TWL Chapter - 83

Sandor was dead. 

He was sure of it. 

The idiot struggling in his grasp had definitely gotten both of them killed. He just didn’t know it yet.

Sandor had given the little shit too much credit apparently. 

No, this was still partially his fault. He should’ve stopped him before he ever stepped inside the clinic.

What he hadn’t seen coming was that the idiot would walk in and immediately try to cut the head off the mage’s lover.

He hadn’t frozen like that in years. 

The way she reacted, grabbing live steel mid swing like it was nothing. The blade had stopped cold against her fingers without leaving so much as a scratch. Not even a drop of blood.

It had given him chills.

And then he remembered something else as he dragged Joffrey out the door of the clinic. The monstrous wolf that had barely glanced at them when they entered? 

It was no longer lounging peacefully. 

It was out for blood.

He nearly pissed himself right there. 

Didn’t help that the idiot he was trying to save had actually pissed himself. Some of it even got on his boots.

Perfect. 

Just perfect.

He didn’t need to guess what was going to happen next. At best, he could let the beast have the prince. 

Then he’d start running and live the rest of his life in exile. But realistically? He didn’t have much faith in outrunning a direwolf or whatever this beast was.

Before he could make that call, he heard the girl’s voice from behind.

“Leave them alone, Fenrir. They were just leaving.”

He finally took a breath when the wolf stopped snarling inches from his face and looked behind him instead.

He took that opening and left with the prince in tow. Swiftly without looking back. 

The only question in his mind now was who he handed the little cunt off to before he ended up executed before having a chance to explain himself.

He didn’t waste time. Joffrey kept trying to wriggle free, tripping over his own feet, shouting muffled threats he didn’t have the spine to carry out. Sandor didn’t care. 

He had one destination in mind. The King.

He marched straight to where he hoped the king would be. He stopped when he saw Selmy guarding his door. The old knight’s hand went straight to the hilt of his sword when he spotted them.

“Clegane,” he said calmly. “Explain.”

Sandor didn’t flinch. “There was an incident,” he said. “At the clinic. The prince drew steel on the mage’s girl. Tried to take her head off.”

Barristan’s eyes widened. That got his full attention.

He studied Sandor for a long moment, then nodded once. “Very well.”

The King raised a brow the moment Sandor entered with the trembling prince in tow.

“What in the seven hells is going on Clegane?” he asked, voice already rough with anger.

Sandor didn’t waste time. “The prince stormed into the clinic. Drew his sword on the mage’s apprentice and tried to take her head off.”

Robert’s expression darkened. “Is she alive?”

“Yes,” Sandor said. “She wasn’t the one who ended up pissing herself.”

Robert blinked. “What?”

“She caught the blade. With her bare hand. Took it from him like it was nothing. Didn’t even look like she got a scratch on her.”

He still didn’t know what to make of that. But it was above his pay grade and he didn’t care anymore.

Robert looked at the struggling prince, then back at Sandor. His expression was unreadable.

“This is the same girl who was the mage’s apprentice turned lover?”

Sandor nodded. “Aye.”

“Fuck,” Robert muttered.

He stood slowly. His anger was growing heavier with every second. “How is he alive?”

“The mage wasn’t there,” Sandor said. “But his wolf was. Looked ready to swallow the boy whole. The only reason it didn’t is because she called it off.”

Joffrey, finally managing to wrench free of Sandor’s grip, clutched his face and spat out weakly, "He's lying father, she provoked me—”

Crack.

The backhand was quick and loud. Joffrey stumbled to the ground.

He felt no sympathy for the prince, he wished he could do that himself but sadly that would not be good for his continued well being.

“What is wrong with you? Do you have to cause problems everywhere you go?” Robert roared.

He rubbed his face, exhaled deeply. “I’ll deal with him later. For now, lock him up in his chambers. Make sure he doesn’t step a foot outside.”

Sandor grabbed the boy by the collar and dragged him away without a word. The spoiled cunt was still too shocked to put up much of a fight.

-----------

Freya sighed once the prince was finally dragged away by his guard. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to figure out how she was going to explain all this to El without him going on a killing spree.

She had half a mind not to tell him at all, but that would only delay the inevitable. It had been a public spectacle, and she had essentially humiliated the crown prince in public. That was bound to have consequences, and she wasn’t exactly in a position to handle those on her own.

Her students were still staring at her in open-mouthed shock. To be fair, she was kind of stunned herself. It wasn’t every day you caught a sword with your bare hand.

She hadn’t meant to do it. Not consciously. It had just… happened.

The fact that blades couldn’t cut her wasn’t entirely new. A few weeks ago, she had accidentally dropped a scalpel on her arm during cleanup. The blade had bounced off her skin without even a scratch. Curious, she’d pressed it harder, testing it again and again until the metal finally snapped.

El had done something to her. She didn’t know when, and he hadn’t said anything, but it had to be him.

The weird part wasn’t that her skin was impenetrable.

It was that it didn’t feel that way.

Her skin still felt soft. Warm. Real. It bent, it stretched, it moved like it always had. No stiffness. No strange resistance. No pain. And yet nothing, not even the sharpest scalpel she could find, left so much as a mark.

She hadn’t found a good moment to ask him about it. And now… she had a feeling that moment had passed.

Freya sighed again, dragging a hand down her face.

She had heard plenty about the crown prince from El. None of it had been good. She’d thought maybe he was exaggerating.

Apparently not.

The boy had walked into her clinic, started barking orders like he owned the place, and within a minute had drawn steel on her, for nothing more than standing her ground.

She hadn’t planned on getting mad. But when he took out his sword and started threatening her in front of everyone, she had gotten mad.

There were enough people in that building already who were sick or hurt. The last thing they needed was some entitled brat swinging a sword around like it was a toy.

She’d seen toddlers handle kitchen knives with more care.

She could contemplate this later. Right now, she needed to act.

“Alright,” she said finally, standing up straighter and turning to the students still frozen in place. 

“You guys need to manage the clinic for a bit. I need to go explain what just happened, before El hears it from someone else.”

They all nodded, still distracted and a little pale. But that was good enough for now.

----------

Robert found Ned easily enough. He looked busy, surrounded by papers, but not so busy that he didn’t look up the second Robert walked in.

“We have a problem,” Robert said flatly.

Ned’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“My moronic son just tried to kill the mage’s apprentice.”

Ned shot up from his seat. “What?”

“She’s fine,” Robert said quickly, holding up a hand. “But I don’t think that’s going to stop the shitstorm that’s about to hit.”

“Where is he now?”

“Locked in his room,” Robert replied. “But it was a public event, apparently. I’m sure the whole of Winterfell will be talking about it soon enough.”

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stay calm. “Gods, Robert…”

“I’m sorry about this, Ned. Truly.”

“You don’t understand,” Ned said, voice tight. “Do you know what happened the last time someone tried to hurt Freya?”

Robert frowned. “What?”

“Have you heard about what happened at the Citadel?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. The freak locust attack.”

“That was him.”

Robert blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t have any proof,” Ned said quietly, “and he was definitely here in Winterfell when it happened. But it couldn’t have been anyone else. Not with some mercenaries trying to abduct Freya and barely a moon before the locusts.”

Robert sank into the nearest chair, eyes wide with disbelief. “Gods. How do I fix this, Ned?”

Ned let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Let me go speak with Freya and see what I can do. Are you sure she wasn’t hurt? Because if she was… I don’t think there’s anything you or I could do to stop what happens next.”

“She wasn’t,” Robert said quickly. “From what Clegane told me, the sword didn’t even leave a mark. She just caught it. And she even stopped the direwolf from mauling him to death.”

Ned gave him a long look, then sighed. “Good. That’s something.”

Robert rubbed his face, looking more tired than Ned had ever seen him. “He’s my son, Ned. And I still don’t know how he ended up like this.”

Ned didn’t say anything to that.

“You should send Joffrey back to King’s Landing. As soon as possible.”

Robert glanced up. “You really think that’s necessary?”

“Yes,” Ned said simply. “The longer he stays here, the worse this is going to get.”

Robert nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll make the arrangements. He’ll be gone by tonight.”

“Keep him in his room until then. And Robert… if he ever tries something like this again, I won’t help you.”

There was no threat in Ned’s voice, but the words hurt him all the same.

“I understand,” he said softly.

Ned gave him a nod and stepped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.