Only the three of them stood in the silent woods, the trees casting long shadows across their faces.
"Sandor, magic is real, and I have already obtained this power. Now it's your turn."
Joffrey spoke plainly, offering the Hound what he believed to be the finest gift one could receive in this world.
Two days past, after he had gathered the Solidity Rune represented by the black light, the rate at which his Rune Energy accumulated had grown fourfold compared to when he first began.
Though still insufficient for his grander designs, King's Landing drew ever nearer, and preparations could not wait.
The Runes upon the glass candles were likely auxiliary in nature and offered little advantage to his present circumstances. Thus, he had resolved to invest his precious Rune Energy in those he trusted most.
Hannah, standing quietly beside him, added her voice to his. "Thanks to His Highness's grace, I already possess the power of magic. Look."
She extended her right hand and pressed it against a nearby tree trunk, activating the Fire Magic Energy within her. In mere moments, the vibrant tree began to blacken, and then tongues of flame leapt forth, dancing hungrily toward the three of them.
The Hound's hair bristled instantly, and he could not help but retreat several paces.
Fire—his enduring nightmare.
Joffrey was determined to excise this crippling weakness from his loyal servant.
"Sandor, there is nothing to fear from fire! Magic will make the flames embrace you like a protective sword, shield, and armor."
The Crown Prince pressed firmly on the Hound's broad shoulders. "Do not move. This is my command—do not disobey. Accept the power of fire. You will come to cherish it."
After a moment's hesitation, the Hound stood his ground.
A scorching energy enveloped him—a sensation both familiar and alien, mysteriously potent, as though even his soul trembled in its presence.
Then came another energy, one without distinct character, yet somehow warm and gentle, like a mother's touch.
Joffrey observed with profound satisfaction his newest creation.
The thought of the Hound wielding fire as a weapon amused him greatly. He wondered idly if the Restoration Rune might heal those ancient burn scars.
The Fire Rune Mirror Image and Restoration Rune Mirror Image had each consumed three units of Rune Energy. Having granted Hannah a Fire Rune Mirror Image the previous day, Joffrey now possessed less than a single unit remaining.
The Hound gradually regained his composure.
His body grew increasingly hot, as though plunged into molten rock, yet remarkably, there was no pain.
Fire!
He recalled with stark clarity the brazier into which Gregor had thrust his face as a child. The glowing red coals had seared skin and flesh alike, and amidst the sizzling cacophony, he had smelled the mingled scents of burning and roasted meat. Surely the seven hells themselves could offer nothing more terrible.
The Crown Prince patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Fire is no longer your enemy. Master this power swiftly."
"After we return to King's Landing, you shall accompany me northward to Winterfell. During this time, you must not reveal the existence of magic to any soul."
Joffrey added with pointed emphasis, "After our return from the North, opportunities will arise when you may unleash this power."
The Hound nodded silently.
The changes of recent days had been too profound, too swift. He still found comfort in their previous dynamic—the Crown Prince commanded, and he obeyed. Everything had been so straightforward.
When you're a dog, it's best not to think too deeply. That serves no one well.
A resounding roar suddenly echoed throughout the forest, low and majestic—the unmistakable sound of a great predator.
The Hound immediately tensed, every sense heightened.
He stared intently in the direction of the sound, gripping his sword with both hands, ready to defend his charge.
"Your Highness, stand behind me."
Joffrey placed his right hand upon "Dragonflame" at his waist, but felt little true alarm.
What fearsome beast could possibly dwell in such a place?
He found it merely curious.
The Golden Road connected the wealthy Westerlands and King's Landing, capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Travelers traversed it daily—what creature would be foolish enough to claim territory here?
His answer soon emerged from the dense foliage.
It was indeed a wild beast, but like none he had ever seen.
Hannah gasped in shock, and the pink scars on the Hound's ruined face stretched taut, threatening to split anew.
The creature's head alone stood as tall as a man, its body the length of two. Its coat gleamed brown and golden in the dappled sunlight, each muscle clearly defined beneath the fur, seeming to radiate raw power. Golden pupils fixed them with a gaze sharp as Valyrian steel.
What Joffrey beheld was a magnificent mountain lion of impossible size, its very presence a challenge to the natural order.
His expression grew solemn.
A lion larger than a northern bear, dwelling in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms yet never documented—how could such a thing exist unnoticed?
Perhaps it defied explanation, yet Joffrey knew that mysterious forces operated in this world. Giant lions had indeed roamed the mountains of the Westerlands in ages past, creatures of legend rather than history.
The massive lion regarded them with predatory interest and took a deliberate step forward.
All three tensed as one.
Joffrey swiftly drew "Dragonflame" and communicated simultaneously with the Fire Rune and Solidity Rune within his being.
Though the magical energy he had accumulated over recent days was considerable, he doubted his ability to strike such an agile predator in open combat.
He suddenly recognized his vulnerability with painful clarity.
His magical power remained but a tender shoot, and he had not grown into a warrior's strength. In this state, his chances of survival were no greater than any other mortal's.
I've grown too confident, too careless.
The smooth progression of his magical research had allowed him to forget the harshness of this world. This lesson, he suspected, would not soon fade from memory.
"Sandor, attempt to control that power—fire will help us survive."
"Hannah, set flame to the surrounding trees."
"I shall keep watch upon the beast."
Would fire truly intimidate such a creature?
Joffrey kept his gaze fixed upon the mountain lion, channeling Fire Magic Energy into Dragonflame. The blade gradually took on a reddish glow, as though freshly pulled from a forge.
The giant lion advanced no further.
In such an encounter, amid such terrain, the defenders held subtle advantages—fewer vulnerabilities, more time to react.
The adversaries reached an impasse.
Hannah seized the opportunity to fully activate her Fire Magic Energy.
The flames around them grew in strength and number, the air becoming increasingly heated until light and shadow themselves seemed to twist and dance.
The giant lion shook its massive head, its thick mane undulating like golden waves.
In those amber eyes, Joffrey perceived not fear, but something akin to comfort—even pleasure.
Flames burst forth along the Hound's sword.
Faced with mortal peril, he had finally conquered his lifelong dread of fire.
The Hound stepped forward, placing himself between the Crown Prince and danger.
"Your Highness, in the name of House Clegane, I shall fight to my last breath."
He recalled the tale his grandfather had repeated countless times.
As kennel master at Casterly Rock, his grandfather had been fortunate enough to save Lord Tytos Lannister from a lion's pursuit one autumn day, losing a leg and three hounds in the process.
House Clegane, whose coat of arms depicted three black dogs on a yellow field, had been born from that act of courage.
The Hound's scarred lips twisted into a grim smile.
Surely my lion is larger than that one, he thought. And there are no dogs this time.
No—I am the Hound.
He raised his flaming sword, calculating the angle of his charge.
The Crown Prince's hand stayed him.
"Not yet. Wait a moment longer. Time favors our position."
The peculiar climate of Westeros had nurtured unusual vegetation.
Summer might last for several years, and winter just as long. The trees had adapted to metabolize and cycle according to years rather than seasons.
Now, with summer having blessed the Seven Kingdoms for nine long years, the forest floor lay blanketed in dry leaves and fallen branches.
Once ignited, such tinder would not easily be extinguished.
Those who possessed the Fire Rune could employ Fire Magic Energy to resist the flames' damage—a decisive advantage.
The fire crawled like a serpent toward the giant lion, following the layer of fallen leaves.
I do not believe you will remain unmoved this time.
Joffrey watched with anticipation.
Yet as the flames reached the great beast's paws, he observed a familiar red light enveloping its form.
How can this be possible?!
He recognized the unmistakable glow of Fire Magic Energy, his unique sensitivity to magical forces allowing him to perceive what others could not.
A magical creature?
Curiosity and desire began to outweigh his fear of death.
Not only did the beast possess the Fire Rune, but it could somehow conceal its magical aura, revealing its nature only when actively employing magical energy.
Could it be aware of the existence and function of Runes?
Could it channel Rune Energy as I do?
Would it actively seek new Runes? No, he reasoned, it likely could not perceive the patterns as he did, rendering such acquisition impossible.
A thought suddenly crystallized in Joffrey's mind: Perhaps the lion had appeared because it sensed the aura of Fire Magic emanating from him, venturing from its hidden domain out of curiosity. Was it searching for its own kind?
The ravenous flames consumed everything within reach.
Scorching air, laden with ash, showed equal malice to all living things.
The mountain lion shook its massive body, turned away, and trotted leisurely into the undergrowth.
Watching the giant beast vanish, they immediately fled in the opposite direction, escaping the conflagration.
Several hundred paces distant, the three halted their flight.
Lannister soldiers arrived belatedly, led by none other than the "Kingslayer" himself, Ser Jaime Lannister.
"Joffrey, what transpired here? How did this fire begin?"
Joffrey glanced briefly at his nominal uncle, then turned his gaze toward the direction in which the lion had departed.
"A fortuitous accident," he replied softly.
Meeting is fate, he thought. It seems you are destined to become my mount.
A smile played at the corners of his mouth as a question formed in his mind.
Just how many direwolves could a mountain lion that breathed fire defeat?
==============================================
Support me at p@treon.com/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
=============================================