Ser Preston Greenfield was growing annoyed. The boy was complaining again, moaning about the cart being too rough on his injured arm. The Hound offered no help, merely spurring his horse to ride further ahead. It would be pointless to tell the boy to shut up, he'd just whine about how he was the Crown Prince and how they couldn't tell him to do anything. Seven Hells, why did I agree to this? Ser Preston wondered, not for the first time.
The oxcart Preston had bought for them was making its way west on the winding road to Casterly Rock. They had been traveling all day and now the sun was directly in their eyes. Preston was grimy and sweaty and his back ached from sitting at the front of the oxcart for hours. Damn that woman for making me do this!
At least they could travel during the day now. Before they had reached the Westerlands, they had only traveled at night when they would be less likely to meet any Baratheon guards. It went against all of the Kingsguard's instincts to hide out in abandoned farms and inns like a common thief, but that was the price he had paid when he abandoned his King. Fifteen years as a Kingsguard and all for nothing. Tywin better pay me well for his grandson, my honor should be worth at least a small keep.
"Can't this bloody cart go any faster?" the boy moaned.
"We should reach Casterly Rock by sundown, my Prince," Preston answered wearily.
"I'm the Crown Prince, I demand that we go faster!"
Preston sighed and gave the oxen pulling the cart another whip. It wouldn't do much good, the poor beasts were as tired as he was, but it made Joffrey shut up for a bit.
Joffrey Baratheon had taken to life on the road even worse that Preston had. He grumbled about the summer rains that had turned the Gold Road to mud, complained that the rough wool he had to wear to disguise him was giving him fleas, and often whined that he was too tired to continue for the night. This last point had led to him falling asleep as they were riding, falling off and breaking his arm. It was only a fracture as far as Preston could tell, but Joffrey had cried and wailed, insisting that he was too hurt to ride. Irritated, Preston had been forced to appropriate an oxcart in order to carry the little bastard to his grandfather. Preston had left a sum of gold that he hoped was a fair price for the cart.
The only one who seemed to be enjoying themselves was the Hound, though that might have been from watching Ser Preston and Joffrey having a thoroughly rotten time. The gigantic man seemed to get a perverse pleasure from watching the Prince complain about small things and having Preston try to deal with him. He was whistling as he rode ahead, oblivious to Preston's sufferings. Ser Preston didn't understand why the scarred man hated him so much. The Hound would often bristle at any attempt of Preston's to get him to help out, and Preston would be forced to do all the work himself. He often wondered why the Hound didn't just abandon them. He couldn't be staying out of any love for Joffrey. Despite being the boy's sworn sword, he clearly hated the boy, and after two weeks in the Prince's company, Preston was feeling the same way.
If only Preston had taken Joffrey to the Maidenvault as he had been ordered by the Lord Commander, he would not be in this mess now. It would have been a lot easier than climbing down the cliffs in near total darkness, trying to keep track of a boy while not falling to his death.
But no, he had to listen to the Queen and bring her beloved son to her father. And by doing so, Preston had sacrificed all his hard work over fifteen years. He had betrayed the King he had sworn to protect with his life. He wondered if he had been dismissed from the Sworn Brotherhood, but it made no matter, he could never go back to King's Landing. "A Lannister always pays their debts," the Queen had said when he gave his word to help her children. Well, they certainly had a good deal of debt to him now.
Not that he didn't owe the Lannisters anything, far from it. Born the youngest son of a landed knight, Ser Preston hadn't been destined for much in life besides a wandering hedge knight. But his service in the Lannister army had been noticed during the Rebellion, and Lord Tywin had argued for his appointment to the Kingsguard, an honor he had never hoped for even in his wildest dreams. Ser Preston Greenfield had served faithfully, but he was never allowed to forget who had gotten him his position. And so he had come when Cersei Lannister called, and he had done her bidding.
The oxcart finally crested the hill they had been climbing for the past hour, and they got their first glimpse of the Sunset Sea. And towering over the ocean was the massive fortress of Casterly Rock. It stood like an immense sentinel over the squat huts and comparatively tiny walls of Lannisport.
It took them another two hours to reach the gates of the Lannister stronghold, by which time the sun was nearly down. The Rock's vast shadow engulfed them, turning the landscape from gold to grey.
"Halt!" called a guard dressed in Lannister colors. They had reached the main gate. "Who goes there?"
"Ser Preston Greenfield, of the Kingsguard, escorting the Prince Joffrey Baratheon to his grandfather, Lord Tywin," Preston responded with all the authority he could muster.
The guards looked at each other. "And the other one-oh," the guard had caught sight of the Hound's grizzled, scarred face curled back in a sneer. "Um, go on in then, Lord Tywin will be notified shortly of, uh, his grandson's arrival."
They left the oxcart in the main stable and were escorted to Lord Tywin's solar. Joffrey was holding his arm gingerly and muttering about being seen in rags. Preston held his tongue, with any luck he would be rid of the boy soon and would never have to deal with him again.
Lord Tywin was already waiting for them when they entered the room. He did not display any affection for his grandson when he saw him. Tywin merely looked the boy up and down much the way a knight would look over a steed before riding him in a joust.
"Yes, this'll do nicely." Lord Tywin pronounced curtly. "Now, boy, I expect you'll want to get cleaned up and get some rest after being on the road for so long."
"Yes, thank you Lord Grandfather," Joffrey replied with a bow. He could be courteous if he put his mind to it. "That would be most kind. My arm is badly hurt from an accident along the road; it will need attention from a maester."
Lord Tywin flicked his eyes to a servant standing in the doorway. "Go and fetch my grandson some hot water for a bath and see he is set up some chambers for him. And call the maester, have him see to his wound." The servant bowed and led Joffrey away.
The Lion lord turned his attention to Ser Preston and the Hound. "Now Sers-"
"I'm not a fucking Ser," The Hound spat.
Lord Tywin's face darkened. "You have done House Lannister admirable service, and you shall be well rewarded for your loyalty."
As long as that reward is to get as far from Joffrey as possible, I'm all in in, Preston thought.
"For you, Master Clegane, perhaps lands and titles in the Westerlands somewhere?"
"Fuck your titles, just give me something to kill and enough gold to drink myself to death and I'll be happy,"
"Very well then, maybe a position as a general in the West's army? I can pay you more than you could spend in a lifetime."
The Hound just grunted, Lord Tywin seemed to take that as consent. "And as for you Ser Preston, I trust you will be content with Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"
Lord Commander? What? "My lord, I'm sorry… I don't understand…"
"Oh you will soon enough," Lord Tywin stood and strode to the door that led to his chambers.
"My lord, I'm sorry, but…what is it you wish me to do?"
"Your duty as a Kingsguard, Ser Preston, to guard Prince Joffrey."