Game of Thrones: The Storm

S2E1 - The North Remembers

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On the day of Joffrey's name day, Maester Pycelle called for a small council meeting. While you felt that being the newly appointed Master of Laws meant that you needed to be there, Joffrey wanted you to be at the tourney with him and his younger siblings.

You stood beside Myrcella on the end where Sandor was standing with you just moments before he was called down to fight in the tourney. Ser Meryn stood on the other side, close to Sansa. You were able to keep your word in that you would not let Joffrey make his Kings Guard harm her, but you feared that your influence on the King dwindled every day that you steered him away from violence. Maybe the tourney would change that since Joffrey had been asking to watch you fight more ever since you cut down one of Lord Stark's men.

As the fight began between Sandor and some poor free rider, Sandor immediately gained the upper hand. If he wasn't beating the poor man with his spiked club, he was beating the man with his shield. The free rider only got one good hit on Sandor, and it was across the front of his helm. After that, however, Sandor landed a blow across the free rider's head, effectively knocking him off the side of the makeshift arena.

You watched in disinterest as the man landed on the hard rock before, blood slowly leaking out from his armor. The rest of the crowd though it was a good fight as applaud could be heard from all the Lords, Ladies, and Knights in attendance.

"Well struck," Joffrey said as he got up from his seat to look down at the dead man. "Well struck, dog!"

As Sandor dropped his weapon and shield to take off his helm, Joffrey looked over at Sansa.

"Did you like that?"

"It was well struck, your grace," Sansa looked up at him with an uncaring tone.

"I already said it was well struck," Joffrey said in annoyance.

"Yes, your grace."

Joffrey stared down at the girl for a few seconds as she looked back out at all the people in attendance.

While they drug the dead man off that lay at the bottom of the arena, Joffrey propped his foot up on the ledge. "Who's next?"

"Lothor Brune, free rider in the service of Lord Baelish," a steward announce as the man walked out in full armor and a war hammer. "Ser Dontos the Red of house Hollard."

When nobody came walking out from the other side, the steward looked around. "Ser Dontos the Red of house Hollard!"

"Here I am," a voice shouted nervously from the steps closest to Sansa. When you looked up, you seen a larger, round man only wearing a breast plate for armor and dragging his double-sided morning star battle club.

When he reached the end of the steps, he dropped his helmet before chasing after it. You rolled your eyes at the man's drunken behavior as he tried to put his helmet on correctly.

"Sorry, your grace," Ser Dontos apologized, continuing to fuck around with his helmet. "My deepest apologies."

"Are you drunk?" Joffrey asked the knight who finally looked up at his King.

"No. Uh, no. No, your grace. I had two cups of wine," Ser Dontos stumbled over his words.

"Two cups? That's not much at all. Please, have another cup," Joffrey smiled, motioning over to the pitcher of wine.

"Are you sure, your grace?"

"Yes. To celebrate my name day. Have two, have as much as you like," Joffrey insisted as Sandor returned to the balcony to stand beside you.