Viserys Ch 3
A Dance of Two Swords
Location: Kings Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms
"Ow!" Joffrey nearly jumped as his mother painted his arm's scars with medicine and healing ointments. His arm bared the scars of the days before when the dire wolf of Arya Stark bit his arm nearly taking it off. Had the young Stark girl not called off the beast, Joffrey would have surely been mauled to death, but as fate would have it, he was spared death. Cersei, queen of the seven Kingdoms, gripped the arm of her son and began to wrap it in a bandage cloth.
"Please it's nearly helped." The blonde queen said as she tightened the bandage around his arm, giving Joffrey a look that suggested he was acting like a babe.
"It's ugly" he sighed.
Joffrey wasn't well loved to anyone in the Seven Kingdoms say for his mother the she-lion of House Lannister and time had proven it. Joffrey had grown up spoiled, hate filled and near evil, he believed his entire life he was an invisible future king, a boy of noble blood, born of privilege and power. An though it could be said, that Joffrey was indeed born of privileges, he was slowly beginning to realize he was not as untouchable as he believed himself to be. Life had shown him the truth in an instant. His golden hair perfect blue eyes, and perfect skin were no longer that, no longer perfect. Scarred and buried in his arm, the marks of a wolf, a dire wolf, and as he looked at it, Joffrey now knew his was not a life of an invincible man, but that of a fearful boy. And all he could think of was the girl who had did this to him. Arya.
"A king should have scars. A warrior, like your father King Robert." Cersei reminded him.
Again Joffrey sighed. "I'm nothing like him."
"Yes you are. You killed the dire wolf, you only spared the girl for the love your father bore for hers."
"But I didn't kill the wolf." Joffrey corrected his mother, the queen, his face now giving a slight look of confusion by his mother's words.
"Yes you did. When your father rebelled against the Mad King, he was a traitor, now that he sits on the Iron Thrown he is a hero and the True King! And when you come of age and are King, history will be what you make it." Cersei assured him.
Joffrey paused a long moment. A very long moment. His entire life he had been wrong. He had been cruel, spoiled and viscous. Yet a pain in his gut began to stir. Something in him was changing and he knew it. Before, Joffrey saw himself as better than most people, above them, even members of his own family were not his equal. Or so he thought, and all he could think of was Arya, and the butcher's boy who was now dead because of him. He could not shake it. He could not shake the feelings in him. For the first time in his life, Joffrey was not only scared, but knew he had been wrong. His eyes met his mother's as he spoke, wanting her to truly hear him. "But it will never be true. No matter who says it. A lie can never be the truth."
"It is not a lie when the King says it." Cersei again assured him.
"So then was the Mad King right then about my father? Had he won the war instead of us, had my father's rebellion failed, would my father have remained a traitor and the Mad King justified in his actions against the Starks or when Rheagar Targaryen Kidnapped my father's chosen, Lyanna Stark? If the truth is what the King says, then explain to me mother, who is right, my father or the mad king? What would be true if I became king and identified my Uncle Tyrion as a 12 foot tall warrior giant, would that make it true?"
"Don't bring that dwarf into this conversation. Or Lyanna for that matter!" Cersei's anger began to grow knowing her son was making sense with his statement. But it was not just his argument that frustrated her, but the mention of Lyanna Stark, Robert's first love.
"She is dead mother." Joffrey said shaking his head. "Are you jealous of a corpse?" He asked her.
"Of course not," Cersei shot back. "I just hate the thought of losing you. Had she lived you would have never been born." It was a lie, and before she had finished her sentence Cersei knew it to be a lie. She had been lying to her son, to all her children, to everyone for years. Only her brother Jamie and her knew the truth.
"I'm sorry mother." Joffrey sighed again.
There was another long pause. Cersei had never known her son to have apologized. The idea surprised her, but even in her stubbornness she welcomed the apology. "What is it that is truly bothering you Joffrey?"
Joffrey thought a moment. So much had been running in his head. Pain, fear, anger and hate. "I could have died…"
"Oh please, you exaggerate. It's just a bite." Cersei assured him.
"No." Joffrey corrected. "It came for my neck, the Wolf. I raised my arm, but it came for my neck. What if I had not stopped the wolf's attack in time? What if it had bit my neck and not my arm? I would have bleed out in the grass, dying a coward."
"You're not a coward Joffrey. You are a born Lion, an invisible son of a King!"
Joffrey nearly jumped from his seat. "But that's just it mother, isn't it?! My entire life I have been told that. Son of the King, Son of Robert Baratheon! Prince, Heir to the Iron Throne!" Joffrey slowed his words and soon sunk back in his chair. "All my life, people have told me what I was. A prince, royalty, better than others. Do you know why that animal attacked me? Because of that boy. That innocent butcher's boy! I saw them playing… I knew it was just a harmless game. I knew. But I thought I was better than him. He wore rags, he was poor and I wore silk from Dorne. I thought I was better, I believed he was beneath me. But she didn't."
"You were better then the butcher's boy, Joffrey." Insisted Cersei
"You see mother! That is exactly it!" Joffrey shot up from his chair in anger. "It has been words like those, that have blinded me my entire life. You made me believe it, you Uncle Jamie, even father. I wasn't better than the butcher's boy! I cut his face. I hurt him because I thought I was better. And now he's dead because of me… I should have just let them be. It was just a game… A stupid game. I should have just let them play. Had I not believed myself his superior… I would have never hurt him and that wolf who have never given me a second thought. But I was arrogant. And it nearly cost my life. I should have acted like her. She never saw herself as better, and saw the boy as her friend, not her subject. More humble girl than me, the prince."
"Who? What girl?" asked Cersei.
"Haven't you been listening?!" Joffrey yelled pain now showing, tears filled his eyes. "Arya!"
"The Stark girl?"
"I didn't kill a dire wolf that day. My LIES didn't kill the wolf, but they did kill a boy! And I can't stop seeing his face! I cannot sleep! I cannot eat! All I can do is see his face and cry!" Joffrey wiped away the tears from his face before turning back to his mother. "I don't even know his name."
"He should have never attacked you."
"But he didn't attack me."
"Yes he did. The truth is what you say it is."
"Then Uncle Tyrion is a 12 foot giant, the Hound is the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms and Uncle Jamie is my father." Joffrey countered in spite. He did not know it, but his words struck Cersei closer than he could have imagined. In his wildest imagination he would have never had thought it, but in a dare fit of spite he told more of the truth that he ever could have know.
Cersei heard the words spoken by her son, she knew it was just a sarcastic statement but simply hearing it scared her. She took a silent breath and in a near whisper and fearful words said to Joffrey, "Don't ever say something like that again. What a horrible thing to say about your mother and Uncle Jamie."
Joffrey realized he had offended his mother in his sarcasm and again he apologized. "I'm sorry mother. I just can't… I don't feel well."
Twice in a day he had apologized, that was certainly something Joffrey had never done. "Who are you? This is not like you Joffrey. You're behaving very different. Why?"
"The butcher's boy." Joffrey replied. "I caused his death."
"Even if you did, he is a butcher's boy and you are future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."
"I would gladly give up that future for his life back."
Cersei listened to her son, but instead of comfort, chose to change the subject entirely. "There is something I need you to do." Cersei replied. "Go to Sansa, you've been neglecting her. Show her You still care for her. You owe her that."
Joffrey sighed again, the change in subject did not life his pain, but it did provide a moment of distraction. "Do I have to marry her?"
"Yes." Cersei replied bluntly. She came to him laying her arm on his shoulder. "And if you'd like you need only see her at certain functions. And when the time comes you will lay with her and make little princes and princesses, and if you'd like, you can fuck painted whores. Or lay with the most beautiful noble virgins. Because you are my darling son and this world will be yours."
Joffrey shook his head. "I'd rather not fuck painted whores or Sansa."
"The time will come when you will want to do both. Your father desires for our two houses to be united. He wants you to marry Eddark's daughter, his Hand. Now promise me you'll see the Stark girl."
Joffrey thought a moment. "The Stark girl…"
"Promise me." Said Cersei
"I promise mother." Joffrey gave a quick nod and charged out of the room.
Moments Later Outside the Hand of the King's quarters.
Joffrey walked along the corridors of the massive Castle that was the Red Keep. He followed swiftly by a King's Guard and his personal body guard, the Hound, a man who was tall as a cedar and a face burned from his brother. Joffrey did not know how he felt around the Hound, he had taken the life of the Butcher's Boy, but at the same time, the Hound had protected him since he was a babe and even saved his life on occasion.
Joffrey looked at the Hound, then turned forward continuing to march. He thought if he was doing the right thing by bringing the Hound along, after all, on his mother's orders the Hound had killed the butcher's boy. But it was also true that the Hound was on the of the few people Joffrey had come to trust. But those thoughts could wait, Joffrey had his mind set, he needed to see her, and before long he did. He charged marching down the halls with purpose, but the moment he saw her he froze. There she was, wearing not a dress, but pants and a squire's shirt. She wasn't standing, but balancing her arms parted in the air, standing on one foot. Ayra.
Joffrey was near taken back as he had expected her to be inside the room of the Hand of the King, not standing outside the doors and certainly not balancing her body. Her hair was in a short braid, she was much shorter than her sister, black haired, a foot less in height and nearly two years younger. Joffrey met her eyes, she seemed shocked to see him, and Joffrey too was taken back by what he saw. His heart skipped, but why? No one ever made him feel like that. Why?. He adjusted himself trying to stand proudly but failing. He opened his mouth. "Hello…" the words struggled.
Arya shot back a look of confusion then ignored him, going back to her balancing. "She's not here."
"What?" Joffrey confusingly said.
Arya continued to balance ignoring him. "Sansa is not here. Go away."
Joffrey was still taken back. "Oh…" He said, then continued to stare at her in confusion. "What are you doing?"
Arya keep balancing. "I'm practicing my dancing."
"That's a strange dance." Said Joffrey.
"Ugh," Arya dropped her second leg to the ground and now became annoyed. "It's not a normal dance it's sword dancing."
"Don't you need a sword for that?" Joffrey asked even more confused.
"What do you want Joffrey?! Sansa is not here!" Arya wanted to push him. He angered her, his mere presents gave her fury.
Joffrey shook his head. "I'm not hear for Sansa."
"My father is with the small council. Go away." Arya shook her head and returned to her balancing.
"I wasn't looking for the Hand of the King either." He hesitantly said, knowing Arya would come closer to discovering why he was really there.
"Then why are you here?"
"To see… you…" His voice nearly whispered. Joffrey felt almost as a mouse to her.
Arya raised an eyebrow at him. "To see me?"
"Yes."
Again Arya went back to balancing. "I don't want to see you. Or that!" She pointed, but even as she did Joffrey knew who she was aiming at, the Hound.
"Oh…" Joffrey looked back at Sandor Clegane, the Hound and saw him make an ever so subtle adjustment before looking back at Arya. "I'm sorry. I know he killed your friend. I should not have brought him here."
Arya became even more angered. "His name was Mycah!" Arya never screamed. "He was my friend!"
Mycah, it had been nearly a week since the wolf incident, his face flashing in Joffrey's mind, but now he could finally but a name to the face. Knowing the poor boy's name actually made Joffrey glad somehow, yet also made his death all the more real. "Mycah…" Joffrey said staring at the floor in shame. "Mycah…"
"It's your fault!" Ayra screamed. "I hate you! I hate you and Sansa both, and that giant ogre!" Ayra came at Joffrey with a giant push knocking the boy prince to the floor. Instantly the king's guard stepped forward nearly pulling at his sword, the Hound did not move. Joffrey from the floor saw the king's guard step toward Arya but before he could respond Joffrey grabbed at his leg from the floor.
Arya realized what she had done, her eyes widened and she stepped back from the guard looking at Joffrey laying on the ground.
"Stop!" Joffrey called. "Don't… don't hurt her."
The King's guard staved his sword and stepped back behind Joffrey who still clung to the floor. Arya froze in place, Joffrey stared back up at her. Neither moved. Unknown to either of them, Sandor Clegane had been intent on every word, the usual giant who hardly said a word as the hound would break the silence between both parties. "I never harmed him."
Joffrey looked up at Sandor, slowly rising to his feet. "What?" Joffrey and Arya said in near unison.
"The butcher's boy," Said the Hound shaking his head. "I never harmed him."
"Mycah?" asked Arya.
"Never knew his name," shook the Hound. "But I never harmed him."
"But my mother ordered you to…" Joffrey was still stunned hearing the words from the Hound felt as if his burden was slowly lifting from his heart.
"And my father, he saw you carry Mycah's body!" Arya insisted.
"He saw me carry my supper wrapped in blanket over my horse. A deer, a bloody good deer, but I never harmed the boy. Just told him to run away if he wanted to live. Or the queen's wrath would follow him."
Arya and Joffrey both were stunned to silence at the revelation. A tear of relief forming under Joffrey's eye, another tear of joy falling from Arya's. Clegane for the first time in either one of their minds didn't seem like the monster he was painted out to be. Joffrey leaned to the Hound almost desperate. "Are, are you sure Ser Clegane. Are you sure Mycah is alive."
The Hound shook his head again. "I don't know if he's alive. I just said I didn't kill him. He ran off into the King's woods. Never saw him again. All I know is that if he is dead or alive, it has nothing to do with me. And I'm not a knight your grace."
"But you didn't kill him?!" Arya near cried.
"I did not." Said Sandor.
Neither child knew it to be true, what the Hound said, but both prayed that it was. Joffrey turned from the Hound stared back at Arya. "This entire week, I have been struggling with the pain I had caused. This burden. And now," Joffrey looked to his scars, "Now I can breathe again."
"I'm sorry I pushed you." Said Arya.
"I'm sorry too," Joffrey said nodding at her.
"You're sorry?" an apology from Joffrey came as a surprise even to Arya.
"For everything." Joffrey confessed. "Everything I caused."
"But my wolf bit you."
"She did. And I near died from it. But… something in me woke." Joffrey stared again at the floor partly in shame, partly in sadness, but mostly in revaluation. "I have been a spoiled rotten child these past few years of my life. And only recently have those years of stupidity became apparent to me. If your wolf bit me, I deserved it."
"You have been a little shit." Arya laughed.
Joffrey turned back to her and for the first time in his life gave a girl a genuine smile. "Yes, I suppose I have." He slowly tuned to the Hound and the now silent King's Guard. He spoke with hesitation but managed to get the words out. "I don't suppose you could leave us? Myself and Arya I mean. A moment of privacy?"
The Hound and the King's Guard looked at each other with a hint of confusion, not at the request of Joffrey, but the fact that it did come not as an order but as a request. The two gave a slight bow and too their leave. "My prince," the two said in unison before walking away.
Joffrey turned back to Arya gave her another soft smile. "I fear I have been behaved monstrously these past few weeks." As Joffrey spoke Arya looked on in confusion. She watched as he reached from his pocket and pulled out a golden necklace adorn with a golden pendent at its center. "With your permission…"
Arya did not know how exactly to respond, she never saw boys as something other than friends or family, but at this moment she realized what Joffrey was offering was not a gift of friendship but something a boy gives to a young lady they doted for. Arya stared at the necklace and slowly began to turn around. Joffrey's hands shook but despite himself he managed to place the necklace on her. There was yet another awkwardness with them but Arya looked down at the pendent and managed to make the sincerest smile she could. "It's beautiful."
"My mother wears a very similar one. In truth, my mother wanted me to give it to your sister Sansa. She and I are to be wed." Joffrey stated.
"I know." Arya softly said.
Joffrey shook his head. "She told me to 'give that necklace to the Stark girl.'" Said Joffrey quoting his mother "So I did… just not the Stark girl she wanted. I gave it to the Stark girl… I wanted." Joffrey found himself staring clumsily at the floor again.
"You wanted?" Arya questioned.
"No," Joffrey shot back up as he suddenly felt embarrassed. "Not, not in that way… Just that." He struggled to find the words. Feelings inside him confusing. Even some frustrations. "It's just… you see me."
"I see you?" Arya confusingly asked.
"I'm a coward." He paused "I'm nothing like my father. I've been a scared child all my life. But everyone treats me like, like…"
"Like you're going to be king one day." Said Arya.
"Yes," he hesitantly said. "Like I'm going to be King." Joffrey suddenly walked up to Arya and gently took her hand.
Now suddenly Arya felt something stir in her. This young man was promised to her sister, but here he was instead holding her hand and for the moment Arya even felt as though she wanted him to hold it.
"Arya… you don't treat me the same. You don't act like every other noble I've known. You act, like, like you don't think you're better. Like everyone matters. Like a queen should be…"
"A queen?" Arya said in confusion.
"I'm sorry. If I knew what to say… I don't know. All I know is that I want to get to know you more. But despite myself... I'm just scared."
"Why are you scared?" She asked.
"I don't know. I'm not a warrior like my father. I'm not a soldier. I'm don't know how to fight… I don't know how to…"
"Dance!" Arya suddenly interrupted.
"Dance?" Joffrey asked in confusion.
Arya smiled taking Joffrey's hand and running with him down the castle halls.
"Where are we going?" He asked half nervous half excited.
"To dance!" Arya smiled.
A short while later. Private hall of the Hand of the King.
Joffrey felt tugged by Arya and soon the two came into a large open room with a single man inside. His back was turned but Joffrey even then could see his curly hair black and shining from the sun. His hands were crossed behind him holding two wooden swords and a body slender and fit. "Who is?" Joffrey tried to ask but Arya placed a finger over his mouth silencing him.
"You are late again boy." Said the man who's back was still turned.
"I'm sorry master. I was delayed." Arya stated.
"Delayed? Death does not care if you're delayed." The man shook his head still staring out the window to the open air.
"There is only one thing we say to death... Not today." Arya replied.
"HA!" smiled the man. "You are learning boy. And you brought a friend I see."
Even though his back was still turned the man somehow knew Arya was not alone. "How did you…"
Before Arya could even finish, she was cut off. "You must have eyes like a hawk, feet like a cat, and ears like a rabbit, boy."
"She's a girl." Joffrey finally spoke.
"Boy, girl, Death does not care. You must be a sword, that is all."
Suddenly the man turned around and tossed both swords at Arya and Joffrey. Arya caught her blade; Joffrey's fell beside him. The man smirked, his beard was as curly and as black as his hair, his face was worn but somehow welcoming, his eyes peered over at Joffrey then at the wooden sword by his feet. "Tomorrow you will catch it. Now pick it up. Tomorrow you will be here at midday."
Joffrey looked down then picked up the wooden blade by his side. "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow." The man nodded. "Fancy clothes. This will not do." He pinched the golden buttons on Joffrey's shirt. "Are you trying to get noticed? Tell every would-be thief look at me, I have money, I have gold, I'm just a boy. An easy target."
"I'm no boy, I'm Prince Joffrey Baratheon heir to the Iron Throne."
The man smiled. "And I am Syrio Forel, nine years the First Sword of Bravous. And I young man… will be your Dancing Master as I have been to your friend Arya."
Arya smiled at Joffrey taking a stand and drawing her sword at Syrio. Joffrey followed taking his sword and standing with Arya. "Ha!" Syrio smiled pulling out another wooden sword from a bag and pointing it at the two youths. "Alright young swords. Let us see how well you both dance together."
