Tyrion turned to his nephew. “Joffrey, it is past time you called on Lord Eddard and his lady, to offer them your comfort.”
Joffrey looked as petulant as only a boy prince can look. “What good will my comfort do them?”
“None,” Tyrion said. “Yet it is expected of you. Your absence has been noted.”
“The Stark boy is nothing to me,” Joffrey said. “I cannot abide the wailing of women.”
Tyrion Lannister reached up and slapped his nephew hard across the face. The boy’s cheek began to redden.
“One word,” Tyrion said, “and I will hit you again.”
“I’m going to tell Mother!” Joffrey exclaimed.
Tyrion hit him again. Now both cheeks flamed.
“You tell your mother,” Tyrion told him. “But first you get yourself to Lord and Lady Stark, and you fall to your knees in front of them, and you tell them how very sorry you are, and that you are at their service if there is the slightest thing you can do for them or theirs in this desperate hour, and that all your prayers go with them. Do you understand?
