Game of Thrones: Joffrey the Chosen

That little hand resting on the edge of the blanket could hardly be called a hand anymore.

His fingers were twisted into an odd angle and covered with bloodstains from scratching.

Now it does look more like a pair of claws.

This absurd and chilling thought suddenly popped into Joffrey's mind.

"Ned, this boy is very strong, he will definitely make it." Robert gently patted Duke Eddard's back, his voice unusually low.

"When Renly was a child, he fell from the building and was unconscious for several days, but in the end he was still alive and kicking."

Lady Caitlin covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

"I knew he was going to fall... I warned him so many times, but he just wouldn't listen..." She lay by the bedside, her sobs suppressed and broken.

"I knew it all along..."

Bran Stark lay under the blanket, his back badly bruised.

Maester Luwin had already performed emergency treatment and, after a preliminary examination of the two legs, shook his head heavily.

Even if Bran were to come back to life, he would never be able to stand up again.

His eyes were wide open, blank, like two bottomless black holes, reflecting no candlelight.

Watching this scene, Joffrey couldn't quite describe how he felt.

It was pity, or perhaps anger.

Why would you go out and climb the wall in the middle of the night?

This question pierced Joffrey's heart like a thorn.

The boy had clearly exhausted all his energy during the day, and by the end he was even unsteady on his feet.

"We found him by following the wolf," a guard reported in a low voice. "The wolf kept howling. At first we thought it was a wild dog, but then we realized it was something else."

He swallowed hard. "So we thought we'd go check it out."

"As soon as the cage was opened, the wolf immediately darted out, and we followed behind with torches."

"Then...then I saw him lying motionless against the wall."

Tyrion rubbed his chin, his small frame almost swallowed by the crowd: "The beasts are quite intelligent, though." His tone was ambiguous, neither sarcastic nor appreciative.

He looked up at the guards.

"Have you noticed anything unusual in the vicinity? Did he fall on a stone slab or dirt ground? Also, did he fall under his own room?"

"This..." The guard glanced at Duke Ed instinctively, then hesitated to speak.

Ed didn't turn around; his hoarse voice came from beside the bed, his gaze still fixed on his son's pale face.

"Answer according to his question."

"Yes, sir." The guard nervously licked his lips. "The ground is compacted mud, not very hard... As for the location, I can't quite remember."

"It shouldn't be far from his bedroom, right? He... he just climbed out of the window, didn't climb very high, and then... he fell down."

"Not very tall?" Joffrey suddenly asked.

Everyone looked at him.

Joffrey took two steps forward: "Bran's room is on the fifth floor."

"Given his personality, he'd only climb onto the roof or go up the protrusions on the exterior wall to other towers."

"So falling from such a height, it's impossible for him to..."

He glanced at the unnatural silhouette under the blanket, leaving the rest of his sentence unfinished.

The scholar sighed, "His Highness is right."

"If it were the fifth floor, Little Bran wouldn't be in this state. Judging from the current situation, it's more likely he fell from the guest room area around the third floor."

"But what is he looking for climbing down?" Tyrion pressed. "If he wanted to go downstairs, he could just take the stairs."

Silence fell over the room once again.

Ultimately, Robert broke the suffocating silence.

"There's no use crowding here; let the scholar treat him first."

"Ned, just tell me what herbs you need, and I'll have the best sent from King's Landing."

The crowd began to leave the room one after another.

Joffrey walked last.

He stopped at the door and looked back.

On the bed, those empty eyes remained wide open, staring straight at the ceiling.

For a fleeting moment, Joffrey felt as if he were being watched.

It wasn't Bran, but something older and colder.

"Hey kid, don't try to steal her from me!"

That sentence echoed in my mind again.

Joffrey looked away and gently closed the door.

Robert stayed inside with Ed and his wife, leaving only a few people in the hallway.

The three Lannister siblings stood not far away.

James tossed his brilliant blond hair with a carefree and nonchalant gesture.

"Let's go, I've been working since midnight, I'm starving."

Despite this unexpected turn of events, he and the Queen remained impeccably dressed and looked their best.

Back in the breakfast room of the guest room, the servants served the food, which had been reheated twice.

Lukewarm oatmeal porridge, burnt bacon, and a few small fish.

"Uncle, will Bran recover?" Myrcella Baratheon asked timidly, her golden curly hair cascading down like a waterfall.

Joffrey had no idea which uncle she was asking about.

But Tyrion poured himself a glass of dark beer and answered first, "The condition hasn't worsened yet; the maester says there's still hope."

"He can come back to life." The voice was much gentler than usual.

Mysera exclaimed with delight upon hearing this, and Tommen gave a shy smile.

"Come back to life?" James poked at the grilled fish on his plate. "It'll just be a cripple clinging to life."

"It's probably not even as good as a cripple; it's a deformed freak."

He put down his fork, the metal clinking against the silver plate: "If this happened to me, I'd rather just die."

The little devil arched his overly obvious hunchback and tilted his head to look at his brother.

"Good brother, I'm not trying to be nosy, but if you die, you'll have nothing left."

"But as long as you're alive, at least you can still have hope."

James smiled and retorted, "Well, your life, you little devil, is truly inspiringly tenacious."

"Enough! Don't say these things in front of the children," Cersei said, unable to bear it any longer.

She abruptly stood up, took her two young children by the hand, and walked outside.

As she passed Joffrey, she paused almost imperceptibly.

But in the end, he said nothing, and simply walked quickly out of the dining room, seemingly tacitly allowing him to remain in this delicate standoff.

Only three people remained inside.

The little devil propped his arm on the table and leaned his big head forward.

"What do you think?" His eyes, one black and one green, gleamed subtly in the dim light.

"Isn't this strange?"

"It's strange," Joffrey admitted, "but he's always loved climbing."

"Climbing high and climbing out of your own window in the middle of the night are two different things," Tyrion said slowly, waving his finger.

"Especially a child who's exhausted from playing with someone all day."

James stared blankly with interest, as if he were watching a farce that had nothing to do with him.

Joffrey lowered his eyes and stirred the oatmeal in front of him.

How could he possibly answer?

Could it be that he suspected an old sorcerer from beyond the Great Wall who never slept at night?

Then, using magic, he mind-controlled a boy, manipulating him to climb out of the window and jump.

His height was just enough to cripple him without killing him, so that he could remain in the North.

Who would believe that if I told them!