Trash Of The Royal Family: CH004

-CHAPTER 4-

-JOFFREY BARATHEON POV-

“You are not going to travel on a horse Joffrey!” Cersei tells me with worry in her eyes, as just as everyone starts getting ready for travel, and I order a servant to bring a horse for me.

Right now we were in the middle of a clearing as the rest of the servants busied themselves by packing everything, while flicking glances at the arguing pair of us.

‘Doting Parents’ really had to butt in here didn’t it? I frowned. It just might be her original possessiveness too. I honestly don’t remember if Joffrey had arrived at Winterfell riding a horse or not, though my memories told me that while Joffrey knew horse riding, he had travelled till here in Cersei’s wheelhouse.

Yet despite knowing why this was happening, this “order” really made me angry.

I was almost a grown man according to the standards of this world… and if I couldn’t even ride a horse as a prince then would anyone even take me seriously as a king?

And to confront me like this in public was akin to showing everyone that even when I became the king; Cersei would be the one to really rule. Because the servants are a gossipy bunch- even if they aren’t spies –and I had no doubt some rumors will fly of this.

“Oh the Prince can’t even ride a horse!” I could almost hear people saying it behind my back.

And that would bring my credibility even lower in the eyes of the nobility… If I didn’t know she was doing this from some misplaced sense of worry and love then I would guess that she was trying to sabotage my efforts to gain a reputation for myself.

But no, Cersei was probably the only real ally I had that wouldn’t ever try to kill me. Instead she would make some hare-brained scheme “for my good” that would inevitable blow up in our faces. So she was an ally I would have to keep a cautionary eye on regardless.

I sharply looked at her as she reels back from my look, but as I remember OG Joff’s experience, I soften my expression. “It’s just horse riding Mother, it really isn’t anything dangerous on the even pathways of the Kingsroad especially with the Kingsguard and Sandor here to protect me.”

Cersei frowns in irritation. “I said you wouldn’t ride a horse and that is final Joffrey. You can travel with your siblings and I in my wheelhouse.”

“But-” I try to reason with her.

“No buts!” She shakes her head stubbornly. “You’re the heir to the Iron Throne. You life is too important to risk on such mundane things! Did you know that the Tyrell’s heir fell off a horse and crippled himself? I hear he can’t even walk two steps without a cane now!”

I sigh in exasperation. “But that was during a bout in a tourney Mother! I’m not going to fight anyone-”

“What has gotten into you today Joffrey? I forbid you from doing so and that is final!” She shakes her head stubbornly as she sends disdainful look at the servant I was talking to beforehand- scurrying him away in fear.

I looked around at the bunch of silent servants around us pretending they weren’t listening in.

I grit my teeth in anger, realising that this conversation was lost. Even if I put my foot down and butt heads with her it would look just like a kid throwing a temper tantrum because he didn’t get the toy he wanted… And it would just nullify the respect I was aiming for in the first place!

All I could do was glare at Cersei in impotent rage and grit my teeth as I silently followed her into her wheelhouse along with Tommen and Myrcella.

If she wouldn’t even let me ride a freaking horse- equivalent to riding a cycle in this age –then could I even enter a training ground without her “forbidding” me from doing that too?

…

The next day I woke up early and well-rested just as the sun was rising up. I was almost confused at first before the events of yesterday filtered through my mind and I threw my head back on the cot I was sleeping on.

I’m still here then… I yawned but a deep frown emerged on my face as I remembered yesterday’s events.

Cersei was a problem. Especially her protective instincts… 

And honestly there was no way to deal with her protectiveness the right way, if yesterday was any indication then whatever logical argument I put forward would be stubbornly put down.

I had spent the whole journey yesterday thinking of what to do. Not training myself against others was not even an option in my mind. Because that way would lie certain death for me.

My only current avenue forwards was to become stronger and accomplish feats. Everything would have to come from that. And if I didn’t even use the powers I had gained by unleashing monstrosities on the world then what kind of person even was I?

So the only path forward was to rebel against her orders.

It doesn’t matter if she grounds me inside a room later, I would still have accomplished my goal of becoming stronger.

One battle is all I need. In hindsight, Battle Growth was pretty OP. While I was sure it would never let me fist fight the kaijus, I could probably become strong enough where no human could physically threaten me on the planet as long as I fought and adapted to become stronger against many opponents.

That was why Sandor was perfect for this. He was my sworn shield, and nobody should even blink differently to see him training me (other than Cersei) and not to mention the strength difference between us. 

Battle Growth assured that as long as I was fighting an opponent stronger than me, my strength would grow to match and surpass them in the battle. 

And he was so much stronger than me that it wasn’t even funny. It was like a baby lion cub challenged a rhino to a fight. Sandor in canon was supposed to be one of the strongest and best fighters in all of Westeros. Which meant that my growth against him world be even more pronounced and quick.

I would just need him to take me semi-seriously. I was sure that just exchanging half-hearted blows against him wouldn’t be enough. I would have to fight him with a real steel blade, in a semi real battle.

He just needs to put in some marginable effort and I just need to struggle against him and Battle Growth should work.

But the one thing I hadn’t accounted for was whether the growth was gradual or instant…

Though the description says adapt… Which means the battle’s going to have to last longer than a minute doesn’t it? I sighed preparing myself for a beating. Still it shouldn’t take too long, the difference between our strength was akin to land and sky so the ability would make my adaptation even quicker.

And as long as I became stronger by the end… I didn’t have anything to cry about.

Though if yesterday was any indication then today Cersei was gonna blow a full on gasket once she finds me. I smirked. Can’t wait to see it!

Maybe it was the teenager in me but doing something rebellious seems to be lifting my spirit.

I got up, and washed my face with the basin of water near my bed, looking into my own reflection as Joffrey’s face stares back at me. Sharp cut chin, nose and cheekbones, fair glistening skin, long shoulder length blonde hair, and two emerald green eyes. It was so different yet so familiar at the same time.

“Let’s do this.” I just sigh as I accept it and move on, quickly fastening on the leather armor with chainmail tunic I had a servant fetch for me last night.

Not gonna lie, it took some adjusting but I made it work. Video games never made it look as hard as it was to wear armor the right way in real life. Very different than wearing a tuxedo.

And as I was stepping outside, I came face to face with the armored sleeping form of Sandor right outside the flaps of my tent. 

I guess he at least takes his duty seriously. I though sarcastically and sighed. I just know this going to go swimmingly.

I knew he didn’t hold any loyalty or respect for the original Joffrey and honestly just thought of him as a psychopath no different from his own brother.

Not that he’s wrong but… I have changed now. Hopefully I can change his attitude towards me because the Hound was an exceptional warrior to have on your side.

Sandor blinked awake- probably from my footsteps. His gruff voice reverberating as he asks. “My prince?”

His instincts are sharp. I brought forth my inner Joffrey as I looked at him in faux-annoyance, ordering him. “Wake up Clegane, I want to get some sword training done today. We are going to spar.”

Sandor looks at me weirdly, the injuries on the left side of his face being even more apparent and making me internally compare him to Harvey Dent but with a mixture of Bane added to him, before he shakes his head and gets up.

I instinctively take a step back as he towers over me. If didn’t know any better I would say he was a half-giant!

Still this didn’t deter me in the least bit.

“As you order my prince.” He nods gruffly as he guides me towards a clearing nearby the rest of the tents, with a few other people lingering around the corner and a weapons rack inside one of the tents.

Instantly I grabbed hold of a steel short sword lying by its side on the rack. It’s edge being dulled by design. Swinging it as I checked its weight and clicking my tongue. My muscles are so weak that just swinging this with one arm is straining me!

I had no choice but to hold the sword with both hands as I stepped outside the tent and walked towards the idly standing Hound. 

He looks at me in question, asking gruffly. “My prince, I thought we were going to sparring with wooden swords?”

“Not today.” I just said. Not like he can really refuse me.

-3RD PERSON POV-

Sandor just sighs as he nods, throwing away the carved wooden sword.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say Sandor was irritated right now. He knew Joffrey’s whims and whimsy, and of his often sadistic nature.

In fact he had even helped in enacting many of Joffrey’s cruel orders on others!

But truly this is the first time, I have been roped into something without being able to say no… Honestly he could have refused if it was some outlandish request- the Queen certainly wouldn’t begrudge him for it. 

But just a spar was nothing unreasonable, in fact it was almost expected! It’s just that Sandor had gotten used to the easy life as the Prince’s sword shield.

After all, the prince had never ever in the years he had served him commanded the Hound to train him. Sandor had thought that the prince thought that being trained by someone like himself was beneath him.

Apparently not. Sandor grunted as he take a iron longsword with a dulled edge from the rack. His posture relaxed and bored as he looks at the significantly shorter princeling across from him. 

Though requesting to spar with live metal was a little strange but Sandor didn’t think too much on it.

At least he’ll get to beat up the little brat for waking him up so early!

Joffrey steadies his feat, both his hands tightly clenching the short sword in his hand as Sandor barks out. “Straighten your posture boy! And hold the sword towards the enemy! Don’t poke yourself with it!”

Ting!

Joffrey’s eyes flicker at him, surprise and delight flickering through it as he hears the unmistakable jingle of the Gacha in his mind.

[Feat achieved! Get training instructions from the Hound!]

[+1 Bronze Ticket!]

So it considers that a feat? But Joffrey shrugs internally as he realizes why. Yeah, while I was in a unique position where I could order them around, most of the knights in my new families employs were future legends whose names history would remember. 

This also gave him another idea of how to gain more tickets in the future but that was for later. Right now I have a fight to survive. He grips his sword as he straightens out his stance using the memories inherited from the original.

Sword held straight, shoulder wide, back straight, eyes forward and no fear. He nods resolutely to himself as he activates Battle Growth in his only ability slot. Remembering the memories of the few training sessions the past Joffrey had attended and correcting his stance..

-Before he charges forward at the giant Hound with his sword held high, swiping straight at the foe’s blade.

Clang! The sound of metal clashing against each other echoes through the clearing as Joffrey keeps attacking the giant, who easily parries and blocks his every strike easily with his own.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“HA!” Joffrey breathes out, his hands and bones in his arms burning from exertion and pain from the shocks of clashing steel against steel, sweat already beginning to pool in his clothes and armor as he stops to gather his breath for but a moment-

Bam! 

-And Sandor easily takes advantage of his mistake and hits the blonde on the head with the flat side of his blade. Looking on in boredom and a little amusement as the prince goes down into the mud with a grunt of pain..

The Hound yawn. “Is that all my prince?” Please let it be so…

Elsewhere, a squire or two let out a jittery laughs at the pair.

Joffrey glares at him, his determination still going strong despite the pain and he grip his sword harder as he stands back up defiantly.

“Not at all!” He shouts out as he attacks but is easily outmaneuvered and slammed back onto the ground with the breath rushing out of his lungs from the impact. “Oof!”

”Then next time don’t advertise your attack like that!” Sandor barks out in annoyance as the prince once again jumps back to his feet, mud and sweat clinging onto his form. He sighs. “You’re already tired. That’s all for today my prince.”

“NO!” Joffrey yells out, desperation clinging to his voice. Battle Growth hasn’t even begun affecting me yet… Which means he isn’t even taking me a little seriously.

He wasn’t even putting in the barest of efforts. Which mean to the ability this doesn’t constitute as a Battle.

So such situations require drastic choices.

Joffrey strode forward, adrenaline letting him carry the short sword with one hand like it was meant to as he starts hacking away at the armored form of the Clegane, all of the strikes which the tall warrior easily blocks but-

He’s getting annoyed at my persistence. Joffrey thinks in glee as he pushed his body to his limits, not caring in the slightest of the short breath in his lungs, the burning in his muscles or the creaking of his bones.

 Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Joffrey fights like a bug, even as Sandor constantly tries to crush him and make him give up from the pain and punishment, the prince dodges, blocks and even directs each strike to places he knows would let him stand back up… again, and again and again.

Like a cockroach.

And eventually something had to give and-

Clang!

“Stay down!” Finally Sandor’s patience snaps and for the first time in this spar he actually attacks as he strikes his sword down upon him with his immense strength. Joffrey tries to meet the strike with his own but the Hound’s strength and speed are not a match for the blonde lion cub.

“GAH!” Joffrey chokes up as he is sent sprawling down, his shoulder throbbing in unimaginable pain from the powerful strike of the tall man as his body starts shaking- 

SHIT! FUCK! Finally Sandor realizes what he had done and for a single moment he fears for his life as he sees the Prince and Heir of the Seven Kingdoms, grandson of Tywin “Rains of Castamere” Lannister and eldest son of Robert “Demon of Trident” Baratheon, choke up and convulse on the ground because of his strike- and he feels the sheer dread course through his being at the thought that he’s murdered the prince. 

“Gluk-!” Joffrey feels a burning sensation spread throughout his body as he chokes up- wondering if he was going to die so pathetically before he could even accomplish anything- before the burning sensation suddenly cools and Joffrey coughs out.

-And suddenly as his hands finds and grips the sword beside him with strength. The pain in his shoulder all but disappears as he feels an unknown yet incredibly warm and mighty strength flowing through his limbs.

Joffrey looks down at his hands in wonder. His eyes widening as he clenches his fist and easily lifts and swings the short sword with just one hand.

Swish!

The air sings as the blade slices through the air. But a few moments ago I had such difficulty even swinging this yet now… A hopeful smile spreads on Joffrey’s face. It worked!

“Are you alright my prince?!” Comes the harried and almost worried voice of the loyal sworn shield. His gaze flickers towards the visibly relieved looking Sandor as he climbs back up to his feet. What’s got him so worried? Joffrey thinks confusedly before shaking his head. Ah, he’s probably worried if I injured myself.

He smiles wryly as he steadied his sword against him, asking as if talking about some jape. “What’s got you so worried Clegane? Afraid that I can’t take a beating on a sparring field?”

The Hound glares at the stubborn fool- ticked off yet relieved that he wasn’t going to be fed to the dogs nor become a celibate for life on the Wall. He says out gruffly, his sword pointing down as he advices. “My prince, the wound may be dangerous. We should get you checked by a nurse-“

“Nonsense!” Joffrey shakes his head as he puts his foot down refusing to even have the thought. “That was just the warm up and you haven’t even started teaching me swordsmanship yet!”

Sandor swallowed, helpless against this, as tries to hoist this away on someone else. “If it is swordsmanship you want to learn my prince then there are much better swordsmen in your father’s court. If you would just give me moment to request their aid-”

Joffrey interjects. “That might be true Clegane. And perhaps I shall learn from them too-” For a moment Sandor feels the hope that he could get out of this complicated position before it swiftly snuffed. “-but not now!”

He levels his sword against the Hound as he smirks. “I wish to compare my mettle against Sandor Clegane himself first! So I order you Hound, don’t hold back against me or you shall regret it!”

Sandor grits his teeth in anger as he exhales. “Fine so be it. Don’t go runnin’ off to your mother later my prince!” Sandor Clegane brandishes his sword as he enters a martial stance.

“Now that’s more like it!” Joffrey says out loud with a smile. I have heard much, much worse things than this on COD lobbies, your little taunt aren’t gonna affect me even a little bit.

With one final look we step forward and our steels clash.

Clash!

…