Chapter VIII - Joffrey/Arienne

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A half-chapter from the point of view of a certain Joffrey Baratheon, and the other half from Arienne.

Tell meh what you think.

Lol, meh is a funny word.

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As I watch the beautiful Arienne disappear from view, I want to order the guards to open the doors again, to give me one final glimpse of Arienne's radiant beauty. But I can't, for Margaery and my mother are by my sides, watching me like hawks, just like everyone else in the room.

I sigh, why should I feel a captive in my own palace? I'm bound by what people expect me to do, and right now, those expectations order me not to chase after her. So I sit tight in my throne, clutching the hilt of one of the swords that had been welded into it, in order to create this great chair.

My chair.

Actually, it's the chair of Aegon I, the first ruler of the Seven Kingdoms who designed and commissioned it. But he is dead, and now I am the divine being, chosen by the gods, to sit upon this seat, and govern my lands the way that I want.

But this chair is more like a prison that the symbol of monarchy.

I am undoubtably free but a captive at the same time. The swords of those who dared to defy the Targaryen's of old times enclosed me, their sharp edges preventing me from escaping. The men that these swords belonged to where enemies of the Targaryens, so does that make them friends of mine?

No, clearly not, but the swords do not get any blunter and still threaten to slice me apart if I get too close.

I've had enough, I dismiss the council and storm across the hall, with Margaery and my mother struggling to keep up behind me. The gathered nobility, most of whom are strangers to me, part like the sea and let me pass, bowing their heads respectfully as I do.

I decide to leave through the doors that Arienne just used, maybe if i'm quick enough, I'll catch a glimpse of her. Arienne, the beauteous lady from the exotic land that is Dorne. Myrcella lives in Dorne now, engaged to a prince there. I've never cared much for Myrcella, she's frivalous and annoyingly optimistic. But maybe I can use her as an excuse to speak to Arienne.

Feeling rather proud of myself for my grand idea, my mind is shattered by a piercing scream from outside. Within seconds, my kingsguard are around me, forming a protective barrier from whatever is happening outside. But a terrible, disgusting thought creeps into my mind, tugging at my nerves and forcing me to think about a girl who, 5 minutes earlier, was completely truant in the list of people I knew.

What if the screams belong to Arienne?

I force my way past, ignoring the shouts of "Your Grace!" pleading for me to stop. From the scabbard around my waist, I draw my trusty sword, Heart Eater, who has yet to taste human blood. I flex my fingers as the doors are opened, expecting to see a vicious monster, whom I am ready to slay for touching my Arienne.

But instead, a scene of domestic violence has played out before me. On the ground, Arienne's less-beautiful cousin, whimpering in pain. She is the first to see me. Her vision clouds over with shock and the crying instantly stops. I would ask why she is on the floor, but my attention is averted back to Arienne.

Her aunt is facing up to her, she hasn't seen me. Arienne is being forced into a corner, with nowhere to run. I'm about to clear my throat, to order her aunt to stop, when the inevitable happens. She strikes my beauty across her cheek.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion. From nowhere, the oldest son appears and drags his mother back, turning her to face me. She's not afraid though, the rage that must have been inside her has clouded her better judgement. She's wrong not to be terrified of me, or more importantly, the sword that begs to see action in my hand.

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