"Playing at knights?"
Prince Joffrey stepped into the clearing with the easy confidence of someone who had never been told the world did not belong to him.
Behind him walked his betrothed, Sansa Stark, dressed in a pale blue gown more suited to a castle garden than the banks of the Trident.
She looked between Arya and Mycah in confusion.
"There you are," Sansa said with relief. "Father's been looking everywhere."
Arya barely glanced at her sister.
"I'm busy."
"I can see that."
Joffrey's eyes settled on the wooden sword in Mycah's hands.
He smiled.
It wasn't a pleasant smile.
"A butcher's boy?"
Mycah lowered his eyes.
"Y-yes, my prince."
"And you're fighting my lady?"
"We're only playing," Arya answered before Mycah could speak.
"We're practicing."
Joffrey ignored her.
He stepped closer to Mycah.
"So..."
His hand rested on the pommel of the fine sword at his side.
"You think yourself a knight?"
Mycah's face paled.
"No, Your Grace—I mean, my prince."
"I never said you could stop calling me 'Your Grace.'"
"You aren't the king," Arya said flatly.
Sansa sighed.
"Arya..."
Joffrey's smile disappeared.
"No."
He drew Lion's Tooth with a soft hiss of polished steel.
The blade gleamed in the afternoon sun.
"You wanted to be a knight."
He pointed the sword toward Mycah.
"So defend yourself."
Mycah stumbled backward.
"I don't want to fight."
"You were fighting before."
"We were only playing."
"Then play with me."
Mycah looked desperately toward Arya.
Toward Sansa.
Toward anyone.
Neither child knew what to do.
I remained beneath the willow.
Every instinct screamed at me to move.
To stop this before it became something worse.
But another voice—Damon's voice—echoed just as strongly.
Think first.
A prince.
The daughter of the Hand.
A common boy.
One wrong move could cost more than a life.
It could cost a kingdom.
Joffrey advanced another step.
"Pick up your sword."
"It's only wood," Mycah whispered.
Joffrey laughed.
"Then perhaps I'll use wood too."
Without warning he slashed downward.
Lion's Tooth sheared cleanly through the wooden practice sword.
The upper half spun into the grass.
Mycah stared at the broken stick in disbelief.
Joffrey laughed again.
"See?"
Arya's face flushed with anger.
"Stop it!"
She shoved him hard.
Joffrey staggered one step backward.
His expression twisted instantly.
"You little bitch!"
He raised the sword.
Not high.
But enough.
Enough that every lesson Damon had ever taught me vanished beneath a single certainty.
Steel should never be raised against a child.
Arya moved first.
She swung her stick with both hands.
It cracked sharply across Joffrey's shoulder.
The prince cried out more in outrage than pain.
"You hit me!"
"You were hurting him!"
Mycah didn't wait.
He turned and ran.
Straight into the trees.
Joffrey rounded on him.
"Get back here!"
He started after the fleeing butcher's boy.
Arya didn't hesitate.
She snatched up a stone from the riverbank.
"Arya, don't!" Sansa cried.
Too late.
The stone flew.
It struck Joffrey squarely on the back of the head.
The prince stumbled, dropping Lion's Tooth into the grass.
For one heartbeat...
Everyone froze.
Arya darted forward.
She seized the sword before Joffrey could recover.
"What are you doing?" Sansa shouted.
Arya looked at the shining blade.
Then at the river.
Without another word she hurled it as far as she could.
Lion's Tooth flashed once in the sunlight before disappearing beneath the waters of the Trident.
There was a splash.
Then silence.
Joffrey stared at the river.
"My sword..."
His voice cracked with disbelief.
"My sword!"
He lunged toward Arya.
She skipped backward.
Then—
A blur of grey exploded from the undergrowth.
Nymeria.
The direwolf hit Joffrey squarely in the chest, knocking him backward into the grass.
The prince screamed.
The wolf's teeth caught his sword arm.
Not tearing.
Holding.
Long enough.
"Arya!"
The little girl was already moving.
"Nymeria!"
The wolf released him instantly.
Joffrey scrambled backward, clutching his bleeding forearm.
Sansa stood rooted to the spot, horrified.
Arya grabbed Nymeria by the scruff.
"Run!"
The direwolf hesitated.
"Go!"
With one last glance toward her mistress, Nymeria disappeared into the trees.
Only then did I step forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Joffrey looked up at me, breathing hard.
His sleeve was torn.
Blood stained the expensive cloth.
"You!"
he shouted.
"Did you see that?"
"I did."
"That beast attacked me!"
"It did."
"You'll testify."
It wasn't a request.
I looked at Arya.
She stood protectively in front of the path where Mycah had escaped.
Defiant.
Terrified.
Still holding herself as though she expected another attack.
Sansa looked close to tears.
The river flowed quietly beside us, carrying Lion's Tooth farther downstream with every passing moment.
I had witnessed every heartbeat.
Every word.
Every choice.
And before the sun set...
The King would ask exactly what I had seen.
For a long moment...
No one moved.
The only sound was the gentle flow of the Trident.
Prince Joffrey knelt in the grass, one hand pressed against his bleeding forearm, his face pale with fury more than pain.
Sansa Stark looked from her betrothed to the trees where Nymeria had vanished.
"Arya..." she whispered.
Arya didn't answer.
Her eyes never left Joffrey.
"Go," I said quietly.
She looked at me.
"Take your sister."
She hesitated.
"But—"
"The prince isn't dying."
"He—"
"I know what happened."
Our eyes met.
She searched my face for a heartbeat before giving the smallest nod.
She took Sansa's wrist.
"Come."
Sansa resisted only for a moment.
"Arya..."
"Please."
The two sisters hurried back toward the Kingsroad, though Arya cast one final glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the trees.
Now only Joffrey and I remained.
He slowly rose to his feet.
His sleeve was soaked with blood, though the wound itself looked little more than a deep bite.
Painful.
Not life-threatening.
"You."
His voice shook with anger.
"You saw everything."
"I did."
"That beast attacked me."
"It did."
"And that butcher's boy assaulted me."
I said nothing.
"He struck me first."
"He struck you with a stick."
"It doesn't matter!"
His face reddened.
"I'm the prince!"
"I am aware."
"You'll tell my father exactly what happened."
"I'll tell the truth."
Something flickered across his face.
Uncertainty.
Only for an instant.
Then the arrogance returned.
"The truth favors me."
Before I could answer, shouting echoed through the trees.
"Your Highness!"
"Prince Joffrey!"
Royal guards burst through the brush with drawn swords.
One hurried immediately to the prince.
"My prince!"
"He attacked me!"
Joffrey pointed wildly toward the river.
"The butcher's boy!"
"The wolf!"
"The Stark girl!"
The guards looked around in confusion.
One noticed me.
"Who are you?"
"Ser Talion Rivers."
"A knight?"
"I was knighted by Ser Damon Vypren of House Vypren."
The man gave a short nod.
"Did you witness this?"
"I did."
"Then you'll come with us."
"I will."
Joffrey interrupted.
"And find the butcher's boy!"
"He struck the Crown Prince!"
The captain barked orders.
"You four!"
He pointed downriver.
"Search the woods."
"The rest with me."
Within moments the quiet riverbank had become a hive of activity.
Tracks were examined.
The river searched for the missing sword.
Messengers galloped toward the royal camp.
I had the uncomfortable feeling the afternoon had only begun.
By the time we returned to the inn...
The entire royal household knew something had happened.
Servants whispered in corners.
Lannister guards stood outside the largest room with hands resting on their swords.
Stark men had gathered nearby, speaking quietly among themselves.
The atmosphere had changed completely.
The laughter from the previous evening was gone.
In its place...
Tension.
Father met me the instant I entered the yard.
"What happened?"
"I think..."
I looked toward the crowded inn.
"...we're about to find out."
Before Father could ask another question, another rider galloped into the yard.
The horse was lathered with sweat.
"The King commands the presence of all involved."
His voice carried across the entire inn.
"Prince Joffrey."
"Lady Sansa Stark."
"Lady Arya Stark."
"And..."
His eyes found me.
"Ser Talion Rivers."
Several heads turned.
I heard whispers.
"Who's he?"
"The innkeeper's son."
"A knight?"
"House Vypren."
Father looked at me.
"You don't have to be afraid."
I almost smiled.
"I'm not."
That wasn't entirely true.
I wasn't afraid for myself.
I was afraid because I knew exactly what Damon would say.
A knight's words carry weight.
Speak carefully.
Never let fear change the truth.
Mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping flour from her hands.
"They're calling you before the King?"
"Yes."
She frowned.
"You've done nothing wrong."
"I know."
She stepped closer and straightened the collar of my tunic, just as she had when I was seven years old.
"There."
"You look respectable."
"I was hoping for intimidating."
"You've never been intimidating."
Father coughed into his fist.
"Not to your mother."
I laughed despite myself.
The tension eased, if only a little.
Then the royal messenger cleared his throat.
"Ser."
I nodded.
"I'm coming."
The largest room in the inn had been transformed into a royal hall.
King Robert sat at the head of a long table, looking thoroughly exhausted.
Queen Cersei stood beside him, one hand resting on Joffrey's shoulder.
The prince's arm had already been bandaged by the royal maester.
Lord Eddard Stark stood opposite them.
Behind him were Sansa and Arya.
Arya's clothes were muddy.
Sansa looked ready to cry.
The room fell silent as I entered.
King Robert looked up.
"And who's this?"
Lord Eddard answered first.
"The witness, Your Grace."
Robert rubbed a hand across his beard.
"Gods..."
He sighed heavily.
"One more."
He looked at me.
"Your name?"
I bowed.
"Ser Talion Rivers, Your Grace."
His eyebrows rose slightly.
"A knight?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Whose man are you?"
"I serve House Vypren of Fairmarket."
Robert grunted.
"I know Lord Lucias."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Good."
His blue eyes settled on me.
"You were there?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"You saw what happened?"
"I saw all of it."
The room became utterly silent.
Queen Cersei's eyes fixed upon me.
Lord Stark watched without expression.
Joffrey glared as though willing me to agree with him.
Arya simply waited.
King Robert nodded once.
"Then speak."
"Tell us exactly what happened."
"And leave nothing out."