Forty-odd Lannister soldiers split into six teams and galloped away, their crimson cloaks billowing behind them as they ventured to surround the ferocious prey hiding in the dense wood.
Ser Jaime Lannister, commanding from the flank, wore his displeasure plainly on his handsome face. For Joffrey's willful demand, he had already sacrificed two brave and loyal men, their blood spilled upon the forest floor for a princely whim.
"Joffrey," he said, his voice as sharp as Valyrian steel, "whether this hunt succeeds or fails, we ride north come morning light. Even if you weep at your mother's skirts again, it will avail you nothing."
Joffrey's lips curled into a smile, his mood untroubled by his uncle's scorn. "With warriors of such caliber at our command, I suspect it shan't take long at all. Besides," he added with a gleam in his emerald eyes, "is hunting such a magnificent beast not a tale worthy of songs?"
A skilled hunter can read his prey's movements like a maester reads ancient scrolls, Joffrey thought. And a well-trained army of Lannister men is more than enough to corner even the most fearsome creature.
It cannot escape us now.
Recalling the glimpse he'd caught of the massive beast earlier, Jaime understood well what sensation such a trophy would cause at court. Still, he offered only a contemptuous "Humph!" before drawing his gilded blade from its ornate scabbard.
"Glory must be earned by one's own hand," the Kingslayer declared. "I will not stand idle while my men die." With that, he spurred his warhorse forward and charged toward the treeline.
Joffrey remained where he stood. Since he could not openly wield magic before witnesses, he would be not only useless in the hunt but a dangerous distraction to the soldiers.
"Sandor," he called to his sworn shield, "do you wish to join the fray?"
The Hound guided Stranger, his massive black destrier, to Joffrey's side. The scarred half of his face twitched beneath his helm.
"Your Highness," he rasped, "that monster might break through their lines. My place is here with you." The unspoken words hung between them: to die for you if need be.
Joffrey's smile lingered as his gaze returned to the deep forest ahead. Among the peaceful emerald canopy, his mind's eye painted a bloody contest between beast and man, each wagering their lives in the oldest game.
Mountain lion, he thought, do not die...
The forest had grown deathly still, as though the very air refused to stir. The smaller beasts and birds had long since fled this makeshift arena where greater powers would clash.
The magnificent lion, born in the high peaks of the Westerlands, roared its defiance, unleashing the fury of a mountain king upon all who dared encroach upon its domain.
It was born a ruler, crowned before its first breath.
Born amidst fire and flame, twice the size of any normal cub. The mother lioness had spent the last embers of her life to birth it. By the grace of the gods, the pride had not abandoned the cub, though its hunger demanded the meat of six or seven of its siblings combined.
The lion had proven worthy of such sacrifice.
Within a single turning of the seasons, it grew larger than even the mightiest lion king. After a duel without suspense or mercy, it claimed leadership of the pride, and under its rule, none dared challenge its territory.
Fire proved a most useful gift.
The great beast had hoped to sire cubs as powerful as itself, but the offspring born to the pride's lionesses were all disappointingly ordinary. Before it could try again, the chance was stolen forever.
Damned men! Once, returning from a successful hunt, the mountain lion had found its pride slaughtered upon the ground, their magnificent pelts stripped away. Several of its youngest brothers had been beheaded, their severed heads taken as trophies.
Hairless apes wrapped in gleaming stone!
The lion had tracked them swiftly. With razor claws, dagger teeth, and tongues of flame, it had tasted their flesh and savored their terror throughout the mountains and forests.
It had claimed its vengeance.
But in the decade since, it had never again found a companion. It had not expected that the "kindred" it sensed this day would prove to be yet another man. It had tried to retreat to the mountains, only to find itself besieged.
Forty men on horseback—unlike the hunters of old.
The lion had seized a moment's advantage to strike down two men, but rather than deterring the humans, its attack had only earned it three steel shafts buried deep within its hide.
It roared in fury and scanned its surroundings with wild golden eyes.
The soldiers in their shining armor gradually encircled the beast. They struggled to control their frightened mounts, moving according to some human plan, constantly confusing the lion's judgment.
The creature had been bleeding since midday, and its strength waned with each passing hour.
Despite this weakness, it could still cross nearly a hundred yards in the space of two heartbeats. Once it closed that distance, the roles of hunter and prey might swiftly change.
Yet Ser Jaime Lannister showed not a flicker of fear. Fighting, fighting, fighting—that was what it meant to truly live.
"Aim!" he commanded.
Two teams of cavalry immediately nocked arrows to their bows. The hundred-pound draw weight was sufficient to pierce armor at a hundred paces.
The remaining four teams of soldiers raised their loaded crossbows, fingers tense upon triggers.
The giant lion sensed the danger surrounding it. The enraged beast king burst from cover and charged directly toward Jaime Lannister, whose golden armor made him the most conspicuous target.
"Loose!" Jaime shouted.
With the singing of bowstrings, more than a dozen arrows sliced through the air toward the charging lion. Three buried themselves deep in the creature's flesh.
The neighboring teams of soldiers fired their crossbows as well, and seven more bolts found their mark.
The furious beast paid no heed to its wounds. In the blink of an eye, it was upon Jaime, leaping high—surprisingly agile for its enormous size—and vaulting directly over the knight's raised longsword.
As Jaime spun to face the beast, a massive paw swept toward him, bringing the stench of blood. He bent backward to avoid the blow, but the head of his tall warhorse was nearly split in two by the lion's terrible claws. The mount collapsed to the ground with a thunderous impact, dead before it could even scream.
Jaime leapt from the falling horse and rolled several times before regaining his feet, raising his sword to face the monstrous creature.
Another volley of arrows darkened the sky, and the number of shafts protruding from the lion's body more than doubled.
"Come on!" Jaime cried, his voice filled with battle lust while his eyes remained cold and calculating. "Now we shall see who is the better killer!"
The cavalry tightened their circle around beast and knight.
What man among them would allow Ser Jaime to face such danger alone? Who would wish to be remembered as a craven?
The giant lion recognized its dire predicament.
If those gleaming steel heads pierced its body a few more times, its fate would be sealed.
With unexpected cunning, the lion immediately abandoned Jaime, who posed the least immediate threat with his single blade, and instead charged toward the mounted archers who were nocking fresh arrows not far away.
In the space of two breaths, five men were ripped from their saddles.
The other soldiers hastily launched a counterattack, but only six arrows found purchase in the beast's matted fur.
A deafening roar shook the trees.
A crimson glow appeared around the mountain lion's body. The heat seemed to momentarily banish its pain and wounds. It chased down two fleeing soldiers, crushing one man's skull beneath its paw and knocking another from his mount.
From the lion's maw burst visible tongues of flame. The unfortunate soldier was transformed into charred flesh after only a few moments of agonized screaming.
Jaime nearly succumbed to the urge to rush forward and challenge the beast himself.
"Nock! Draw! Loose!" he commanded instead. "Don't let another man die! Keep shooting until this demon can take no more steps!"
Pain eventually overwhelmed the power of the flames, and the lion failed to catch another fleeing man.
A dozen more arrows found their way into its flesh.
The great beast finally collapsed to the earth, its breathing labored and sorrowful.
The hunters waited with the patience born of years of training.
After what seemed an eternity, when even flies began to land unperturbed upon the lion's wounds, the surviving soldiers finally allowed themselves cautious smiles, tinged with both triumph and bitterness.
Six lives lost, four men grievously wounded, and a dozen precious warhorses sacrificed—but in exchange, they had captured a mountain lion that breathed fire.
"Warriors," Ser Jaime called out, magnanimous in victory, "this beast shall be our shared glory. You have all fought well this day."
He swept his golden hair back from his face, now streaked with dirt and blood. "I shall personally pay each man ten gold dragons, with an additional ten for the families of those who made the ultimate sacrifice."
The somber mood lifted at these words, and the soldiers raised a cheer.
Such coin represented several years' wages for most. When combined with the rewards promised by both queen and crown prince, none could ask for greater compensation.
The giant lion was conveyed back to the royal convoy and secured within a newly-constructed cage of iron.
Seeing the beast locked behind bars and firmly bound with heavy chains, Joffrey released the breath he'd been holding. As long as the lion survived, the scholar's surgical skills and recovery magic would be sufficient to heal it.
"Ha! We shall take it to Winterfell and let Lord Stark gaze upon my mount!" Joffrey proclaimed, his voice taking on the cruel edge that emerged whenever King's Landing drew near. "How does a direwolf compare to this?"
Hannah approached and took his arm gently, her touch familiar and bold. No mere servant would dare such familiarity with the crown prince.
"Congratulations, Your Highness," she said with a smile that reached her clever eyes. "This magnificent creature shall inspire awe. I should dearly love to see it run free once more."
Joffrey smiled and tapped the little maid's forehead with one finger.
"Such roundabout flattery," he chided. "You simply wish to accompany me to Winterfell. Did I not tell you yesterday that your talents are better employed in King's Landing?"
Once the Narrow Sea stirs, he thought, Varys the Spider will surely sense it. I must have eyes and ears of my own in the capital.
"Remain in the Red Keep," he instructed her again, his voice low but firm. "Keep watch over them all."
His green eyes held hers intently. "Trust in your abilities. When necessary, act directly in my name. King's Landing must not fall to chaos while I am away."
Hannah had no choice but to acquiesce to her prince's command.
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