Chapter 10: Pain

Arya avoided Joffrey for three full weeks, partially because he was on a hunting trip for half of that time. For the other half, he seemed to not know of her arrival. Tywin, no doubt, decided not to inform him so that he wouldn't cause trouble.

But his mother knew, and of course she must have told her son all about Arya's new place in the capitol. Arya was walking back to her room when she saw two of his kingsguard in the hall with the king standing between them.

It had been a year since Arya had last seen Joffrey. He looked the same as ever-though perhaps a bit taller. He still had the same cruel green eyes and the same vicious sneer. The last time she saw him, he was giving the order to remove her father's head.

Joffrey's lips curled back into an awful smile when he saw her.

"Lady Arya. It is you." He took a step forward. "I hardly believed it when I heard you had been brought to the keep."

Arya took a step back. "Yes… your grace." She forced the title out past gritted teeth. Rage made her almost dizzy, but she knew better than to lash out. Not here. It would only get her killed. "I'm a ward to the Lannister family now."

"To keep your traitor brother in line. I've heard," Joffrey kept moving toward her. Arya was torn between lunging at him, fleeing or standing her ground. She chose standing her ground, though she swayed on the spot. "I don't know why my grandfather didn't kill you as punishment. Why keep you here? It's not as if you're useful."

Arya's gaze flicked to the Kingsguard. One of them was Merryn Trant. She could see his face beneath his helmet. Two of them in their strong armor would be able to overpower her easily. "I'm a hostage, your grace. I hear those are very useful."

"Sometimes yes," Joffrey said. "But we don't need peace with the northerners. We should have taken all of their heads before we allowed peace."

"And how did you proposed to get all of their heads?" Arya asked. "Your grace."

"I wouldn't discuss my plans with you," Joffrey said indignantly. "But I think a good start would be sending them your head. Payment for all of the men they killed."

Arya lifted her chin. "Your grandfather brought me back for a reason. He's your hand of the king, isn't he? I don't think he would advise you to kill me."

"No." Joffrey looked down at her. She hated how much taller he stood. "But I can hurt you." He glanced back at his Kingsguard. "Ser Meryn. Ser Boros."

The Kingsguard came at her. Arya had exactly one weapon: a fork she had kept from her lunch and slid up her sleeve. It was not enough to defend herself, but she would not go down easily. Ser Boros reached for her and she ducked under his arm, only to stumble into Merryn. He seized her arms and lifted her off the ground, as if to throw her.

It was a mistake. She wrapped her legs around his waist to steady herself and knocked of his helmet. She drove the fork into his cheek, and snapped her teeth down on his ear, biting as hard as she could. He screamed and his grip tightened so much that Arya thought he might crush her arms. But she did not give. She kept biting and tearing the fork through his flesh until he smacked her upside the head, tearing her loose. She slammed to the ground gasping for breath. His ear fell from her mouth and rolled across the ground.

"You little bitch," Merryn snapped. She barely heard him. Her ears were ringing from the blow.

"She's wild as a wolf," Joffrey cried out. She hadn't even attacked him and he sounded afraid. "Show her a lion's strength."

A boot took her in the stomach. Then the ribs. Arya heard an audible crack and pain flashed through her body. She screamed before she could stop herself. Seven hells… had Sansa endured such abuse? Had they hurt her like this? She would kill them if they had hit her even once.

If she survived. Her vision blurred as the pain began to fog her brain. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. She could not fight if she could not breathe.

She could not survive either.

Jaime only happened to be passing by. He was on his way to speak to Tyrion about… something. He could not remember what it was later. It must have been some trivial annoyance. But when he passed down the hall, he heard a cry of pain.

Though he had long ago abandoned his honor, the knight in him still went toward the sound on instinct. Someone was in agony, and someone else was laughing about it.

Joffrey, Jaime thought. Of course it's Joffrey. He has such a love of watching other creatures in pain.

It would likely be better not to intervene. He should leave Joffrey to his toys. He would check the situation and move on. Nothing more.

But when Jaime rounded the corner, he saw Arya Stark crumbled on the floor, curled into a ball to defend her body from the boots of the two Kingsguard standing over her. But the next kick from Merryn Trant sent her sprawling on her back, gasping for air. Joffrey laughed again.

Seven hells, Jaime stalked forward. The boy was going to hurl them right back into the war with the north "That's enough."

"Uncle," Joffrey said. "I'm teaching the girl a small lesson."

"Really," Jaime stopped just behind her. "What is that lesson exactly? That a thirteen year old girl can't win in a fight against two fully armored knights?" He glanced at Merryn. He had a nasty gash in his face and was missing most of his right ear. "It seems she did better than expected."

"We do as the king commands," Merryn protested.

"That's right, you do, don't you?" Jaime said. "I heard you did as the king commanded when he ordered you to beat Sansa Stark too. Because the king isn't very good at handling hostages."

Joffrey's face twisted in rage. "You don't speak to me like that, uncle. I am your king."

"Yes, your grace, you are," Jaime said. "You should start acting more like one."

Joffrey seemed bewildered by Jaime's words as he knelt beside Arya Stark. One of her eyes was blackened, but the other cracked open. She was still conscious.

"Apologies, Lady Stark," Jaime said. "We should get you to a maester."

"I'm not done with her yet," Joffrey said.

"Yes you are," Jaime said.

"Ser Merryn. Ser Boros," Joffrey said. Both Kingsguard took a step toward Jaime and he drew his sword.

"Come closer, and I'll cut through both of you," Jaime promised.

"It's our duty to protect and obey the king," Merryn Trant spat. "Maybe you forgot that while you were a prisoner, Kingslayer."

Jaime tilted his head to the side. "Well, I didn't forget my sword play while I was a prisoner. And that means I could very easily kill both of you. It would leave the king without two of his guards. That would not be protecting him, would it?"

The two men stilled. They knew better than to fight with Jaime. With Barristan Selmy gone, Jaime was the best swordsmen in the keep.

When the knights did not advance, Jaime sheathed his sword again and bent to pick up Arya Stark. Thankfully, she was small and easy to carry.

"Ser… Jaime?" she croaked out. Her voice was dangerously weak.

"Stay awake if you would, Lady Stark," Jaime murmured. "The maester will take care of you."

And my father will take care of them, he thought. Lord Tywin would not be happy about this development in the least.

Tyrion had witnessed his father's anger on multiple occasions. Quite often, Tyrion himself was the cause of it. But he had to admit, it was a bit cathartic to see Joffrey on the receiving end of Tywin's rage.

"Attacking Arya Stark was stupid," Tywin said coldly. "Nearly as stupid as chopping off Ned Stark's head. Apparently you did not learn your lesson from that incident."

"The Starks are all traitors," Joffrey said. "I took Ned Stark's head because he said I was not a king. Robb Stark claimed the same and you offered peace."

"Peace is much less expensive than war, your grace," Tywin said. "Shall I have Lord Baelish explain the numbers to you?"

Lord Baelish looked like he would really rather not explain any of that. All of the small council was keeping quiet, not wanting to stand in the middle of this fight between the King and his Hand. Even Cersei looked hesitant when she spoke.

"That girl is wild," she murmured. "I'm sure Joffrey was only defending himself."

"He was not," Tywin said flatly. "That's the same weak lie you used the first time they fought."

"I don't need a reason," Joffrey said. "She's our hostage."

"And her wellbeing is what keeps us from restarting another pointless war with the north right on the edge of winter," Tywin snapped. The volume of his voice seemed to shrink Joffrey for a moment. Tyrion hid a smile behind his hand. Yes, he did enjoy watching this.

"Your grace," Varys said carefully. "If I may… Robb Stark has sworn allegiance to you and will ride south soon to swear it before the throne in the sight of gods and men. Since they have surrendered… mercy seems a wise course of action."

"I am merciful if I don't execute every one of the north men for treason," Joffrey spat.

"You would be ruling over cold graves then," Tyrion pointed out. "Not very lively subjects."

"That is my right. I am the king ." Joffrey declared.

"Any man who must say "I am the king" is no true king." Tywin stood from his seat. He was quite a bit taller than Joffrey and the boy seemed to notice it, gripping his mother's chair for support. "If your enemies defy you, destroy them. But if they kneel, you must help them to their feet. Otherwise, no man will ever kneel to you. King Aerys never understood that but you must if you want your line to survive."

Joffrey bristled at this. "Is that a threat?"

"It is advice… your Grace," Tywin seemed to add the title almost as an afterthought. "I am your hand. I advise you. I suggest that you listen."

"Why should I?" Joffrey asked.

"Wise men listen, especially to the men who won their war for them."

"You didn't win. You made peace ." Joffrey spat the word, as if it tasted sour. "My father won the real war. He killed Prince Rhaegar. He took the iron throne while you hid under Casterly Rock!"

A deep silence fell over the room. Pycelle gripped the edge of the table and Varys and Littlefinger exchanged shocked glances. Cersei stared intently at her hands, as if wishing there was a wine glass in them. Tyrion very nearly started laughing but he forced it down. That was not a wise thing to say to his father. It was technically true, but it wasn't wise.

Tywin regarded Joffrey coldly. In the endless quiet, the boy king squirmed nervously, unable to hold his gaze. He raised his chin in a weak attempt to seem stronger, but everyone could see his fear.

"The king is tired," Tywin said at last, with extraordinary finality. "See him to his chambers."

Cersei was on her feet in a second, taking Joffrey's hand. "Come now. Let's go."

"I'm not tired," Joffrey muttered.

"It's late. You should rest," Cersei led him toward the door.

"Grand Maester. Perhaps an essence of nightshade to help him sleep," Tywin glanced at Pycelle.

Joffrey turned back, calling on what seemed to be the last of his courage. "You can't just send me to my rooms."

"I am. Right now," Tywin said. "And if you jeopardize our peace with the North by harming Arya Stark again, I'll send you there longer."

Joffrey offered up no more argument to that. He fell quiet and allowed Cersei to guide him from the room. Quite the king indeed.

The other members of the small council shuffled out rather quickly, not eager to remain in the aftermath of Tywin's rage. Tyrion lingered for a moment, an amused smile on his face.

"You just sent the most powerful man in the kingdoms to bed without his supper."

"You're a fool if you think Joffrey is the most powerful man," Tywin said.

"A treasonous statement. Joffrey is king," Tyrion said.

Tywin gave him a look. "He'll only become more difficult to manage the older he gets. The Mad King was the same way. In the beginning he took advice. He listened. By the end, nothing could be said."

"That doesn't bode well," Tyrion said. "Joffrey does not even take advice now. He can be manipulated and intimidated. Margaery does quite a good job at the former and you're good at the latter. But eventually he is going to catch on to both."

Tywin did not reply to that. "What have you heard of the Stark girl's condition?"

"Her right arm is broken. Several broken ribs and far more bruises. One of her eyes is swollen shut," Tyrion said. "But she will live."

"Good," Tywin said. "Those kingsguard should be thankful for that. It would be their heads otherwise."

"Meryn Trant may be suffering his punishment already," Tyrion said. "The girl bit off his ear and stabbed him in the face with a fork. Not a clean wound. I hear it has become badly infected because he did not see to it."

"If a knight can be killed with a fork and a girl's teeth, he should not be a knight," Tywin said. "Did Joffrey handle the other Stark girl this way?"

"He tried to. I stopped him when I could," Tyrion said. "She never earned a beating this terrible, but then again, Sansa was a gentler creature. I have no doubt Arya Stark fought back."

"She has her father's foolish bravery as well as his look." Tywin tapped his fingers against the table. "We'll have to cure her of that."

"Cure her of his look? I don't think that's possible," Tyrion said.

"Do you ever stop trying to be clever?" Tywin said.

"No. Do you?" Tyrion asked.

Tywin regarded him coldly. "Keep an eye on the girl, Tyrion, and make sure word of this does not reach her brother until she is recovered. I am not going to fall back into war with the north this close to the winter. If you were able to manage Joffrey before, you should be able to keep him and the Stark girl away from each other now."

Tyrion nodded. He knew their discussion was at its end.

Part of him had wished that his father had never returned. Then he might have continued to be hand of the king forever. But on the other hand, now it was Tywin's job to manage Joffrey, and he might find it was not so easy. The boy was afraid of him for now. That was what gave him an edge.

It wouldn't last forever. When Joffrey got stupid enough, who knew what kind of madness he would rain on the seven kingdoms?