Chapitre 17: chapter 17 crossing the narrow sea
I think back to a few hours ago as i drift into a trance looking at the vast sea…
"Caesar!" Robert's booming voice rang out across the hall, drawing every eye toward him. His massive hands gripped the arms of the Iron Throne, frustration etched across his face. "Let me go with you, just for a few months!" he demanded.
"My lord, you cannot." Barristan Selmy's calm, unwavering voice cut through the King's bluster like a blade. "The kingdom needs you here, in Westeros." The legendary knight stood tall, his hand hovering close to his sword, ever vigilant.
I stood watching them, arms crossed. Robert Baratheon, the once-great warrior who'd claimed the throne with his hammer, reduced to arguing like a petulant child. But my attention wasn't on them for long. My eyes drifted to the far side of the room, where Joffrey stood with his mother, Cersei. The boy's sneer was unmistakable, his eyes glittering with that same entitled cruelty that always sat beneath the surface. Next to him stood the Hound, impassive as ever, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper then his ever stick expression showed on his unmoving face.
"Hey, cousin!" Joffrey's shrill voice sliced through the tension. "Where's the Imp?"
His words hung in the air like a poison. The room froze. Every Lannister guard's hand twitched toward their sword, but they hesitated, unsure of whos side they are truly on. Even Robert's hand paused on the hilt of his blade. A heavy silence fell, as if everyone present knew the gravity of what had just been said—everyone except Joffrey, the fool who thought his crown of heir to the throne made him untouchable.
My blood surged, but I didn't lash out immediately. No, I wanted him to feel it. The weight of his mistake. I took a step forward, slowly, deliberately, my gaze fixed on him.
Joffrey's smirk faltered, just for a moment, but then he puffed up his chest, trying to regain his usual air of superiority. I could see the panic rising behind his eyes though, and so could everyone else. The Hound, who had been standing like a statue, shifted slightly, his eyes darting from me to Joffrey and back again.
As I advanced, the Queen stepped forward, her mask of composure barely holding together. "Stop!" Cersei's voice trembled, betraying her fear. "He's still royal blood—"
Before she could finish, I was upon her. My hand reached out, gripping her by the hair and yanking her forward. She gasped, her body frozen with terror as I pulled her close enough to feel my breath on her cheek. For a moment, the great lioness of Casterly Rock was reduced to prey.
"Let her go!" Jaime's voice came from my left, and I could hear the hiss of his sword leaving its scabbard. He moved to strike, but I was faster. With a single swift motion, I grabbed his sword hand, twisting it brutally until I felt the bones snap.
"AAAAAAHHHH!" Jaime's scream was unlike anything anyone had ever heard from him—a sound of pure, unfiltered agony. He dropped to his knees, clutching his ruined hand as the sword clattered to the ground.
"Jaime!" Cersei's voice was shrill, her panic overtaking her as she watched her lover—her brother—fall apart before her eyes. She reached out to him, but I shoved her aside as if she were nothing.
Jaime's scream was a sound that echoed in the minds of everyone present, a reminder that no one was untouchable. Not even the Kingslayer.
But Jaime no longer mattered. He was broken, finished, a liability Tywin would discard without hesitation. Tywin had his grandchild now, and Jaime had long since ceased to be the favored candidate for heir.
My eyes moved to Joffrey, who stood frozen in place, staring at his uncle's crumpled form in horror. He turned desperately toward the Hound, but the fear had already taken root. The Hound stood still, unmoving, unwilling to intervene.
I grabbed Joffrey by the collar, yanking him toward me. His princely crown fell to the ground, clattering across the marble floor. His mouth opened, a string of pitiful, stammering words spilling out, but I didn't care. He was just a boy playing at being a king.
SLAP.
The sound echoed through the hall. Blood and teeth flew from his mouth, splattering across the pristine floors.
SLAP.
More teeth. More blood. His face was a swollen mess now, his lip split, his nose crooked. But I wasn't done.
SLAP.
His last few baby teeth flew free, his head snapping to the side as his body crumpled in my grasp. I let him fall, his pathetic, bloodied form hitting the floor with a thud as i was getting ready to kick him.
"Stop! Please!" Cersei's voice broke, high-pitched and filled with desperation, but it was too late. I looked down at the mess that was her son, the so-called Crown Prince of Westeros, and felt nothing but contempt as i kicked him in the ribs making him slide to the other side of the room.
I turned to the Hound, who had been watching in silence, his face unreadable.
"Your job is to protect this little shit?" I asked, my voice low and full of derision. "The one who makes fun of you? Disrespects you?"
The Hound didn't respond at first, his eyes flickering to Joffrey's ruined face battered bruised and bloodied across the hall before returning to mine.
"Come work for me," I said.
His brow furrowed slightly. "What's the pay?"
I stepped closer, towering over him. "You work for free, and I don't take your head off."
The Hound stared at me for a long moment, weighing his options. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I can work with that."
I smirked, reaching into my pouch and pulling out a sack of gold dragons. I tossed it at him, and he caught it with one hand, the weight of the gold heavy in his grip. I wasn't planning on not paying him I'm too rich to be a cheapskate but I wanted him to hear it from my voice that he gets what I give and if he misbehaves I kill him.
I turned to Robert, who had been watching the whole scene unfold in silence. His face was a mix of disbelief and resignation, the fire that once made him a king long gone.
"Any problems with me taking him?" I asked.
Robert's shoulders slumped. He looked at me, then at Joffrey's crumpled form, and sighed. "No. He's yours."
"Good." I turned back to the Hound. "Here," I said, tossing a bottle of aged whiskey toward Robert. "A gift. As an apology hasnt even reached the market its the oldest ive got."
Robert's eyes flickered to the whiskey, and for a brief moment, I saw the old Robert—the one who cared more for drink than anything else—resurface. He took the bottle, his eyes lingering on the label.
"You think that'll pay for what you did to my son and brother?!" Cersei screamed, her voice breaking as she knelt by Jaime's side still to afraid to move to her son.
I turned to her, my gaze cold. "No," I said flatly. "That's for taking the Hound. I'm not apologizing for breaking that little shit. Joffrey said what no one in the realm would dare say, and he deserved worse."
Cersei's face twisted in rage, but she said nothing. She knew better. Without Robert's support or Tywin's approval, she had no power here.
I turned back to Robert. "You sure you want this mama's boy as your heir?" I asked. "Tommen might be a better choice. Take him away from her, start training him yourself."
Robert blinked, clearly surprised by the suggestion. I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps the first hint of doubt about his heir. Before he could say anything, I turned on my heel.
"Alright. I'm done here," I said, my voice commanding the room. "Men, move out!"
"YES, SIR!" My soldiers barked in unison, the sound of their voices filling the hall as they marched behind me.
As I stood on the deck of my ship, the wind whipping across the sea, the Hound approached, his massive frame looming beside me.
"The Queen won't forget this," he muttered, his voice low.
I glanced at him, then out to the vast expanse of the sea. "Does it matter? The King won't let her retaliate, and neither will my grandfather. Without Robert or Tywin, she's got nothing. And with Jaime out of commission, she's got no one left to fight for her." I laughed, the sound dark and humorless. "Even if Jaime tried, I'd rip his head off with my bare hands and no one would do a thing."
The men around me chuckled, their voices echoing across the deck. I turned back to the Hound, locking eyes with him. "You're mine now. You do what I say, when I say it. Prove your worth, and you'll live a good life."
The Hound nodded, his expression grim but accepting. "I am to serve, my lord," he said, kneeling before me.
"Good," I replied, a satisfied grin creeping across my face. "Now stand your ass up we've got people to kill skulls to collect i say laughing."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone