The Hounds Dragon ***Sandor Clegane***

King Joffrey

"King Joffrey and Queen Reagent request your guard in the Throne Room," Sandor says, walking up behind me as I read A Raven... from dragons keep.

"Yes...They always send you, why?"

He scoffs, smiling, "They figured if they sent that little prick to get you again you might come back with his head on a stick and his cock in his mouth."

"And they are right, just be glad Ned doesn't have a taste for blood. That boy would've been dead long ago." I laugh, walking down the stairs with him.

"You're always in your armor now, I don't think I've seen you in a dress in weeks."

I shake my head, "Something has just felt off, even before Robert's death, I just couldn't be restricted."

"Say bye to dresses,  King Joffrey wants you and your dragons on Kings Guard." 

"The dragons are beyond my control, if the King gets too close there's nothing I can do. They're angry here Sandor, I will have to send them North. Winter is coming." I say, almost afraid of what the three beasts could do to a small boy, one I especially don't favor.

"Why would you send them North if you already have enough to eliminate every army in the realm in the North?" Sandor turns, stopping us in the middle of the hall.

"Not here, Not when I can see the spiders," I say, looking behind me at a guard who stares intently at us. Sandor nods and we both turn, almost in unison on our heels, and continue walking, straight toward the dimmed Throne room that sits at the end of this seemingly neverending hall. 

The bells ring, announcing the official death of King Robert, I hate that he's gone. 'The golden trio' is gone. It's just Ned and I now and Robert was the only one that would rip us apart when we would get into fights. Verbal fights mostly, some fist fights. Sometimes I would be the one fighting Robert, sometimes it would be all three of us, screaming, throwing shit. Mostly because Robert will have run off to a brothel, I'll be a confident drunk, and Ned just wanted to get us past thirty.

I enter The throne room with Sandor and see soldiers, holding helms and marching into their places.

"Lady Visenya!" Joffrey says walking up to me, something clearly behind his back.

I bow my head to him, "You're Grace."

"I found something since you don't wear helms." he smiles, and I smirk, turning my head to the side, "It is the only Targaryen thing left in the keep. I would like a powerful woman to hold powerful things. To keep the peace." 

I simply bow my head again, looking at Cersei and she waves the clothe I gave her when Robert hit her. I lift my head and see Joffrey holding the Targaryen crown. The same one my father wore upon his head, and every Targaryen king before him, "Your Grace... I don't belei-"

"I don't care what you believe, this will sit upon your head, serving as your helm. You will wear it, it will please me. The king." Joffrey commands, proud of his words, "Now, kneel, so I can put it on you, you are quite tall even for a man." he laughs and I hear a few snickers as I kneel. He places the crown on me. It's heavy but it's snug, it fits well.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I will wear this as a reminder of my loyalty to you." 

"Now go stand beside the dog, you two are a good pair. scary and scarred." He smirks and I nod my head, mentally rolling my eyes as I stand beside Sandor, who already has his helm placed upon his head. The mouth of it open.

"I remember going with you, to the blacksmith, helping you decide what to pick."

"Really? Do you still have the drawing of what I wanted the helm to look like?" He asks, looking down, slightly, at me.