Chapter 4: Interlude I The Prince's Condition.
The Hound had been guarding Prince Joffrey's bedchamber like a gods damned stool for several hours now. He walked a couple of circles in front of Joffrey's door, shaking his stiff muscles, and popped his head over the nearby window.
Aye, must be midday already. The little shit sure's taking his time getting ready, thought Clegane. Though it did bother him that the prince had called no servants to aid him with his clothes. He swore the little shit was incapable of tying his own breeches.
Must have overslept, the Queen will not be too happy with me If I just leave him in there.
Making up his mind, the Hound knocked the door.
When nothing happened he knocked harder. "Prince Joffrey, its getting late and the family will be dining soon!" he said as he tried to suppress a sight. Sometimes his job wisent too much different than a nanny or a septa…
Still no answer.
Bastard must still be asleep.
He opened the door (fortunately Joffrey had not locked it) only to find the Prince still in bed, looking at him. Why haven't he just answered? Thought the hound, exasperated.
Suppressing a scowl, the Hound tried his best to sound entreating. It was really the best to do if the prince was in a sulking mood and you wanted him to cooperate. "Come on Prince Joffrey, its almost bloody midday, you must be starving." He said. There, that ought a do it. The little shit hadn't eaten last night, after all, he must be starving.
Joffrey didn't even twitch. His eyes were fixed on a grey spot on the wall, which contained nothing out of the ordinary to Clegane's eyes. "Prince Joffrey… My Prince…? Joffrey SNAP OUT OF IT!" The Hound almost yelled the last one, out of patience as he snapped his fingers a meter off Joffreys face. With the loud snap of his fingers he finally got a reaction.
Joffrey seemed to rock back slightly as he turned his eyes to Sandor. It was then Clegane discovered this was no usual sulking. Joffrey's eyes didn't focus on the Hound, they seemed to stare a mile beyond him. Joffrey blinked slowly, as if only just now recognizing the Hound.
He blinked a few more times. Finally, he whispered "Go away" in a weak tone as he slowly turned the other way and cuddled under his sheets.
"…Prince Joffrey?" asked the Hound, now confused. It made him remember… bad times. It made him remember the empty stares of the smallfolk villagers that had been brutalized by his brother… the Mountain.
Whatever the reason, he'd better tell the royal family sooner rather than later, so as to not be dragged into the whole affair…
-.PD.-
I can hope ,can't I? The hound thought morosely.
"What do you mean he won't join us, Clegane?" Asked Cercei, her tone frosty. Pretentious bitch, thought Sandor as he kept a straight face. Not that Robert would be bothered about it, in fact he'd probably laugh out loud and maybe even reward him if he said it out loud. No, it was his liege lord Tywin Lannister that restrained Sandor's behavior.
The King didn't seem to care, his meal had started an hour ago with strong ales and was now devouring the pork with such primal joyfulness it made the Hound a little envious. "It appears the prince is not feeling so well." Said Sandor shrugging his big shoulders, not an easy fit in armor.
The Prince's siblings appeared to have taken the news with relief and more than a bit of happiness. They were now talking amongst each other and laughing at this or that.
Suddenly the King stopped chewing through one of his pork chops, and stared at Clegane. Sandor stiffened with attention, even well past his prime King Robert could project obedience when he wanted to… Not that that happened often. "You think he's still sulking because of the North?!" Asked Robert, dangerously. Even though he still hadn't swallowed some of the pork chop on his mouth, Sandor thought he still looked dangerous. "I really don't know, Your Majesty." Said Sandor, warily.
"We can't have that, not after yesterday." Said the king as he washed down the last of the pork chop with ale, and stood up. He scoffed at Cercei's warning glare, "Seven Hells woman, I'm not going to strike him. I'll just shake his lazy bum." He said as he strode out of the small dining room, gesturing at Sandor to follow him. "Might as well learn how to do it!" he joked as he slapped Sandor on the back. He could feel the blow even past the partial plate that protected his back.
They quickly made it to his room, but the door was already open. They entered and found various servants, cleaning and servicing the room, though keeping well aware of the bed. In it, Joffrey was snuggled in a fetus position, his hands under his armpits. His frame was remarkably immobile, except from the small, low intensity shiver attacks he would suffer randomly.
"Well, what's going on?!" Boomed the King. The servants all stopped what they were doing and kneeled. "Your Majesty, we just found him like this, and he didn't object to us carrying out our duties as normal" Said the oldest of them, eyes firmly on the floor. The King nodded "Aye, you seem to be doing a good job of it." He gazed as Joffrey's form, again stuck looking another spot on the wall, this time in the corner.
"If this is about not going to the North again your mother won't protect you, boy." He said as he stood in front of Joffrey. "Joffrey… JOFFREY!" He bellowed at close range. The boy hadn't even noticed, he was staring at the spot on the wall, muttering something under his breath. "…not the … no… no…." He mumbled. For the first time since Sandor knew him, the King looked somewhat worried, eying Joffrey. "Son?" he asked softly. Whereas Robert's bellow didn't have any effect, this soft whisper seemed to rock Joffrey, he seemed to start shaking and clutched his father's arm like a limpet. "Please… don't let him…" he whispered weakly. A few minutes passed as Robert awkwardly petted Joffrey's hair, and soon he was asleep.
-.PD.-
"It seems an indigestion coupled with fever, most likely, your grace. In fact--" Pycell droned on, babbling about the Prince's supposed Illness. Sandor promptly ignored him, and it seemed Robert had too. He grabbed the hound by the shoulder as he guided him a few meters back, leaving only the Queen listening with rapt attention and anxiousness to the Grand Maester.
"A fever… bollocks!" Snapped the King. "I've seen that look before, and it was not because of an 'indigestion'" he snorted indignantly. The hound nodded for him to go on. He didn't know why the King was telling him this, but he guessed he needed someone to talk about this. Prince Joffrey's… condition was oddly unsettling, something the Hound suspected should not be seen in children.
"I saw it after the Battle at the Trident, whole packs of men wandering about without their wits, looking at something as if it were leagues away, or staring at their bloodied hands in confusion. I don't like this Clegane, not one bit." He said, shaking his head.
Clegane stood silent, wondering. Could some Targeryen loyalist have gotten to the prince between last night and today?
He didn't think so.
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