Hear me Roar - English version

CHAPTER 20 - The walls have ears

               After a good meal alongside Bronn, I head back to the royal apartments. This day has been emotionally exhausting. After the incident in the Throne Room, I spent long hours in the gardens overlooking the Blackwater, wondering how my father would have acted.

               Ned Stark was a man of honour who placed his morality above all else. Nevertheless, I cannot afford to use him as my example. His actions, though honourable, led him exactly where he is now: in a trunk on its way to Renly's camp.

               I must follow my own code, my own morals. But, surprisingly, making the right decisions proves complicated when your heart leans toward a mad king.

               When I attempt to enter my room, I greet the Hound. I am glad he is on guard; I feel much safer with him than with Meryn Trant. However, the Hound stands before me to block my path.

"It's getting late," I tell him. "I need rest."

"No one can enter."

"Is the King unwell?" I ask naively.

               I suspect not. If the King were ill, he would have sent for me. Perhaps Joffrey is angry with me because of the way I publicly opposed him earlier today.

               As I prepare to ask another question, a cry reaches us. Someone is inside the room, moaning in pain. A woman.

"Are you obeying a royal command by preventing me from entering?"

"No."

               Taken aback, I take a moment to observe the Hound. He knows perfectly well what is happening inside and is protecting me from what I might find. A second cry reaches us, more distinct. I recognize one of the voices.

"Clegane, let me in!" I command, trying to push him aside. "My friend is inside!"

               In a sudden movement, he places his hand over my mouth and pins my hands behind my back. My ragged breathing seems to make the floor shift beneath my feet. The Hound then leans toward my ear to whisper:

"I will not let you be Joffrey's next victim. Go sleep elsewhere."

               After ensuring I will no longer scream, Clegane releases me. I could insist and persuade myself that Joffrey wouldn't hurt me. Except I am not that naive.

"How many are there?"

"Two," he replies. "A redhead and a brunette from the Free Cities."

"How did they get there? This is not like the King."

"A gift from the Imp."

               A gift from Tyrion? What was he thinking? That Joffrey needed carnal relations to clear his mind? Aside from huddling in my arms every night, my husband doesn't even touch me. I am deeply hurt that he would find pleasure elsewhere. Not that I want to sleep with him, but frankly, it's insulting.

♐︎

               Back in my old room, I look at Arrow lying at the foot of the bed. This is where she comes when Joffrey kicks her out of our apartments - which is to say, every other night, depending on his mood. Tired from the day, I lie down without delay. And it is still fully dressed, shoes on my feet, that I fall asleep.

               I am startled awake by a most horrific nightmare. Drenched in sweat, I walk to the window. The moon is still high in the sky; I must not have slept long. Joffrey must still be occupied.