A Gentle Breeze | Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

Chapter Thirteen

||Fire and Blood||

Zephyr stood next to her brother Joffrey in the throne room as a bard sang a song for him, quite terribly if she had to admit.

"The boar's great tusks, they boded ill

For good King Robert's health

And the beast was every bit as fat

As Robert was himself

But our brave King cried 'Do your worst! I'll have your ugly head! You're nowhere near as murderous as The Lion in my bed' 

King Robert lost his battle and

He failed his final test

The lion ripped his balls off, and

The boar did all the rest."

Zephyr was not amused in the slighted because this song was pretty much humiliating her father and her mother.  As much as she hated Cersei, she couldn't help but feel angry afterwards.

Joffrey slowly began clapping and when he did, so did the crowd in the throne room. Zephyr wasn't even going to bother to muster even the fakest of smiles and clap along, no. She wore her resting bitch face like it was a badge of honor.

"Very amusing." Joffrey spoke. It was not amusing at all.

"Isn't it a funny song?" Joffrey asked his people. "Thank you for your rendition. I imagine it was even better received at that tavern."

"I'm so sorry, your Grace." The bard spoke "I'll never sing it again, I swear."

"Tell me, which do you favor- your fingers or your tongue?" The King questioned. Zephyr knew her brother didn't find it amusing either, despite his facade. He would make the bard pay dearly for that song as well, she knew. She knew because she knew his anger. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, it always shone through his eyes.

"Your Grace?" The bard asked, not understanding what he meant.

"Fingers or your tongue, if you got to keep one, which would it be?" Joffrey asked again slowly losing his patience. "Or I could just cut your throat."

"Every man needs hands, your grace." The bard said which would result him in losing his tongue instead.

"Good." Spoke the King, "Tongue it is."

"Your grace, please-" The bard began begging tearfully as two of the guards went to hold him down. "Ser Ilyn, who better than you to carry out the sentence?" Joffrey asked the executioner who sliced Ned Stark's head off not too long ago.

"I beg you, please no!" the bard kept pleading as Ser Ilyn took out a dagger and something to pinch his tongue to hold it in place with and went to one of the fires to heat the blade.

Zephyr was sure Lord Baelish would've made a comment to Lord Varys something similar along the lines of "Oh, are we getting flashbacks already?" if everyone still had an appetite after so much bloodshed has already been caused.

As the bard kept begging, she assumed Joffrey got tired of hearing it. "I'm done for the day. I'll leave the rest of the matters to you mother." He said as he took off his crown, handing it over to the Hound.

Her brother went off with The Hound and two other guards briefly talking to Sansa, and she assumed he wanted to show her, her father's head on the spike. She sighed as she noticed how cruel he gets as each day passes.