Chapter 20
As Jon and his party sat down to a hearty breakfast, the atmosphere was a mix of relief and cautious discussion. Oberyn, always one to cut straight to the heart of matters, leaned forward with a curious expression.
"So, Jon," Oberyn began casually, "what's the plan now?"
Jon took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying, his voice steady and resolute. "Essos isn't safe for us anymore, at least for the time being," he explained, casting a glance around the table at his companions. "I think our best move is to head back to Westeros. King's Landing might be risky, but it's the last place they'd expect us to go."
Rhea, ever practical and observant, nodded in agreement. "But before we set foot in King's Landing, we need to address the matter of Daenerys's disguise," she interjected calmly, her gaze shifting to Daenerys, who sat quietly beside Jon. "Her Valyrian features will draw attention."
Daenerys, her expression thoughtful, nodded in acknowledgment of the challenge ahead. "We'll need a plan," she agreed softly, her violet eyes meeting Jon's with unwavering trust.
Jon nodded in agreement, his mind already racing through possible solutions. "We'll find something suitable," he assured them, a hint of determination in his voice. "There are ways to blend in, even in a city as crowded and watchful as King's Landing."
Oberyn's eyes gleamed with interest. "And what do you plan to do once we're there?" he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
Jon met Oberyn's gaze evenly over the breakfast table, the morning sun filtering through the open windows of their rented manse in Braavos. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the lingering spices of a hearty breakfast.
"There's a Tourney of the Hand coming up," Jon revealed, his voice carrying a quiet confidence as he leaned slightly forward. His gaze shifted between Oberyn, Rhea, and the rest of their companions gathered around the table. "I intend to participate."
Oberyn raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. "A Tourney in King's Landing, you say?" he mused, sipping from his cup of wine. "And what's the prize that's got you so interested, Jon?"
Jon paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "Gold," he finally admitted, his voice low enough to keep the conversation private among their group. "The tourney is a chance to earn a substantial amount, enough to strengthen our position."
What Jon didn't disclose was that this Tourney was an excellent source for earning more Gacha Points.
Rhea nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered the implications. "It's risky," she pointed out gently, her concern evident in her tone. "But it's a good plan. The Dothraki will be searching for us, so we can't stay here for long."
Jon glanced around the table, meeting the eyes of each companion in turn. "We'll need to move swiftly," he agreed, his voice low but resolute. "Daenerys's safety is paramount."
Obara, always pragmatic and direct, leaned forward with a suggestion. "I know a merchant in Braavos who specializes in exotic garments," she offered, her tone practical yet hopeful. "He might have something that could work."
Tyene, her mind already turning over possibilities, interjected softly, "What about dressing her up as a Septa? It could provide both cover and respectability in King's Landing."
Diana, who had been listening intently, chimed in with enthusiasm, "Yes, and Oberyn could use some of his resources to create a backstory for her. Something that would hold up to scrutiny."
Selina, ever observant, added thoughtfully, "We'll also need to ensure she can handle herself in the event things go awry. King's Landing can be a dangerous place."
Jon nodded, taking in their suggestions. "Let's prepare for the journey then," he decided, his gaze firm and focused. "We'll gather what we need and move as soon as possible."
As the group discussed their plans in earnest, each member contributed their expertise and insights, weaving a tapestry of strategy and caution.
—
In a cozy chamber tucked away in the manse, Daenerys sat surrounded by her companions: Rhea, Selina, Diana, Obara, Tyene, and Nymeria. They busily helped her don the attire of a young Septa, adjusting the folds of the modest gown and fastening the hood securely over her silver hair.
As they worked, Daenerys couldn't help but notice the playful glances and knowing smiles exchanged between her disguised friends. Sensing an opportunity to learn more about their recent adventures, she ventured cautiously, "What happened last night?"
The room fell momentarily silent, punctuated only by the rustle of fabric and the faint sounds of Braavos filtering through the open windows. Rhea, ever the quick-witted, chuckled softly before answering, "Oh, Daenerys, last night was quite eventful."
Daenerys tilted her head curiously, unaware of the implications behind Rhea's words. "Eventful?" she inquired innocently, her brow furrowing slightly.
Selena, with a mischievous glint in her eye, chimed in, "Yes, quite eventful indeed. We spent the night in Jon's chambers."
Understanding began to dawn on Daenerys as she observed the slightly disheveled appearances of her friends. "Oh," she murmured, her cheeks tinted with a faint blush. "I see."
Diana, always gentle-hearted, leaned closer to Daenerys and explained with a reassuring smile, "It's alright, Daenerys. It's just something that happens between men and women sometimes."
Obara, known for her blunt honesty, added with a smirk, "And it seems to have happened quite vigorously last night."
Tyene and Nymeria exchanged amused glances, then Tyene, ever diplomatic, said, "Jon is a good man, Daenerys. We enjoyed our time together."
Daenerys nodded slowly, processing their words with a mix of curiosity and newfound understanding. "Thank you for explaining," she said softly, her demeanor thoughtful yet appreciative.
The girls resumed their tasks, putting the finishing touches on Daenerys' disguise. As they readied themselves to depart for the day's activities, a sense of camaraderie and shared experience filled the room, bridging the gap between Daenerys' upbringing and the more worldly knowledge of her friends.
With a final adjustment to her hood, Daenerys stood ready, a young Septa in appearance but with a deeper appreciation for the complexities of relationships and the bonds between men and women.
—
As Jon and the rest of the group busied themselves with preparations for their journey to King's Landing, Tyene took Daenerys aside to help her learn how to blend in as a septa. Having spent time at the Starry Sept in Oldtown, Tyene was well-versed in the customs and practices of the Faith of the Seven.
They found a quiet corner on the deck of the ship, away from the others. Tyene handed Daenerys a modest septa's robe, and they began with the basics.
"First," Tyene said, her tone gentle yet firm, "you need to understand the mannerisms and the language of a septa. They are humble, pious, and always speak with a certain reverence."
Daenerys nodded, pulling the robe over her head and adjusting it until it fit comfortably. "Like this?" she asked, her voice soft and tentative.
"Yes, that's a good start," Tyene replied with an encouraging smile. "Remember, you must walk slowly, never rush. Your movements should be deliberate and graceful, as if you're always in prayer or contemplation."
As they practiced, Tyene gave Daenerys tips on how to speak about the Faith. She taught her key phrases, the importance of the Seven-Pointed Star, and how to perform simple blessings. Daenerys absorbed the information quickly, her natural intelligence shining through.
Meanwhile, the rest of the group was busy readying their supplies and disguises for the journey. Oberyn and Ellaria discussed their plans for staying under the radar in King's Landing, while Selina and Diana double-checked their provisions and made sure they had everything they needed for a covert stay in the capital.
Jon, watching from a distance, felt a surge of pride. Despite the dangers and the uncertainty of their mission, his companions were rising to the challenge with determination and resourcefulness. He approached Rhea, who was overseeing the packing, and they exchanged a few words about their next steps.
"We'll need to be cautious," Jon said quietly. "King's Landing is full of eyes and ears. We can't afford any mistakes."
Rhea nodded, her expression serious. "Agreed. But with Tyene's help, Daenerys will blend in. And we'll be there to support her."
As the day drew to a close, Tyene and Daenerys rejoined the group, their lesson complete. Daenerys, now dressed as a septa, looked the part perfectly. Her silver hair was hidden beneath the hood, and her demeanor had shifted to one of quiet piety.
"Well done," Jon said, nodding approvingly at Daenerys. "You look convincing."
Daenerys gave a small, grateful smile. "Thank you. I'll do my best."
With their plans set and their disguises ready, the group prepared for the next leg of their journey.
—
Meanwhile, in the harsh, unforgiving plains of the Dothraki Sea, Viserys Targaryen's fate had taken a cruel turn. Once a prince with dreams of reclaiming the Iron Throne, he was now a broken shell of a man, enslaved by the very people he had hoped to command. The Dothraki Khalasar had no mercy for his Targaryen blood, and his defiance was met with brutal subjugation.
Every night, Viserys was subjected to unspeakable acts, forced to serve the Khalasar's whims. The once proud and arrogant prince was now a mere plaything for the warriors who reveled in his suffering. His days were filled with menial labor, and his nights were a relentless barrage of humiliation and pain. The constant abuse eroded his sanity, and the weight of his shattered dreams pushed him further into the depths of madness.
He no longer resembled the man he once was. His silver-gold hair, once a symbol of his Targaryen lineage, was now matted and filthy. His body, once lean and regal, was marred with bruises and scars. The Dothraki saw him as nothing more than a source of amusement, a stark reminder of the futility of his ambitions.
In the dim light of the Dothraki tents, Viserys's eyes, once filled with fiery determination, now held a vacant, haunted look. He muttered to himself incessantly, the words of his once grandiose plans and delusions of grandeur now mingled with incoherent ramblings.
"Fire and blood," he would whisper, his voice trembling. "I am the dragon, the true king... they will all pay."
But his words held no power, no conviction. They were the desperate utterances of a broken man, clinging to the remnants of his shattered identity. The Khalasar paid him no heed, their laughter echoing around him as they continued their cruel games.
Viserys's spiral into madness was a grim testament to the harsh realities of his world. He had once believed himself destined for greatness, but now he was nothing more than a pawn in the cruel hands of fate. His dreams of the Iron Throne had turned to ashes, and the legacy of his family was all but forgotten in the brutal landscape of the Dothraki Sea.
As the hours turned into days, and the days into weeks, Viserys's grip on reality slipped further away. The constant torment and degradation had stripped him of his humanity, leaving behind a fractured soul consumed by rage and despair. His fall from grace was complete, and the once-proud Targaryen prince was now a shadow of his former self, lost in the unforgiving world that had broken him beyond repair.
—-
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling port of Braavos, Jon and his party prepared to board their ship bound for King's Landing. The air was filled with a sense of urgency and anticipation, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. Daenerys, now disguised as Septa Emilia, stood with an air of quiet determination, her new identity a crucial part of their plan.
Jon, Rhea, and the others gathered their belongings, making final preparations for their departure. Tyene had worked diligently with Daenerys, teaching her the ways of a septa and helping her perfect her new role. Dressed in the modest robes of the Faith of the Seven, Daenerys's transformation was complete. Her once striking Valyrian features were now softened by the humble attire and the calm, composed demeanor she had adopted.
Jon approached Daenerys, giving her a reassuring nod. "Remember, you are Septa Emilia now," he said softly. "This disguise is our best chance to move through King's Landing undetected. Trust in Tyene's teachings, and we will succeed."
Daenerys, now Emilia, nodded in understanding. "I will do my best," she replied, her voice steady. "Thank you, Jon, for everything."
Rhea joined them, placing a comforting hand on Emilia's shoulder. "You look the part perfectly," she said with a smile. "Just stay close to us, and we'll get through this together."
As they made their way to the ship, the rest of the party fell into step behind them. Oberyn and Ellaria, ever the vigilant protectors, kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Selina, Diana, and the Sand Snakes moved with practiced ease, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Once on board, Jon led them to their quarters. The ship was modest but sturdy, its crew efficient and discreet. As they settled in, Jon couldn't help but feel a sense of irony at the name he had chosen for Daenerys's new identity. Emilia Clarke, the actress who had portrayed Daenerys in another world, had left a lasting impression on him. It was a small homage, a reminder of the blending of realities that he now navigated.
As the ship set sail, leaving Braavos behind, the group gathered on the deck, watching the city fade into the distance. The journey ahead was fraught with danger, but they were united in their purpose. King's Landing awaited, a city teeming with intrigue and peril. But within its walls lay opportunities, and Jon's secret plan to participate in the upcoming Tourney of the Hand was a crucial part of their strategy.
Emilia stood beside Jon, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "What will happen when we reach King's Landing?" she asked quietly.
Jon took a deep breath, considering his words. "We'll blend in, gather information, and make our move when the time is right," he replied. "The Tourney of the Hand is our best chance to earn some coin and position ourselves strategically. But we must be cautious. The Usurper's spies are everywhere."
Rhea stepped forward, her eyes filled with determination. "We'll be ready," she said firmly. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together."
The ship sailed steadily toward its destination, carrying Jon and his party into the heart of danger. But they were prepared, united by their shared mission and the bonds they had forged. King's Landing awaited, and with it, the next chapter of their journey.
—
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling port of Braavos, Jon and his party prepared to board their ship bound for Gulltown. The air was filled with a sense of urgency and anticipation, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. Daenerys, now disguised as Septa Emilia, stood with an air of quiet determination, her new identity a crucial part of their plan.
Jon, Rhea, and the others gathered their belongings, making final preparations for their departure. Tyene had worked diligently with Daenerys, teaching her the ways of a septa and helping her perfect her new role. Dressed in the modest robes of the Faith of the Seven, Daenerys's transformation was complete. Her once striking Valyrian features were now softened by the humble attire and the calm, composed demeanor she had adopted.
Jon approached Daenerys, giving her a reassuring nod. "Remember, you are Septa Emilia now," he said softly. "This disguise is our best chance to move through Gulltown and then King's Landing undetected. Trust in Tyene's teachings, and we will succeed."
Daenerys, now Emilia, nodded in understanding. "I will do my best," she replied, her voice steady. "Thank you, Jon, for everything."
Rhea joined them, placing a comforting hand on Emilia's shoulder. "You look the part perfectly," she said with a smile. "Just stay close to us, and we'll get through this together."
As they made their way to the ship, the rest of the party fell into step behind them. Oberyn and Ellaria, ever the vigilant protectors, kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Selina, Diana, and the Sand Snakes moved with practiced ease, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Once on board, Jon led them to their quarters. The ship was modest but sturdy, its crew efficient and discreet. As they settled in, Jon couldn't help but feel a sense of irony at the name he had chosen for Daenerys's new identity. Emilia Clarke, the actress who had portrayed Daenerys in another world, had left a lasting impression on him. It was a small homage, a reminder of the blending of realities that he now navigated.
As the ship set sail, leaving Braavos behind, the group gathered on the deck, watching the city fade into the distance. The journey ahead was fraught with danger, but they were united in their purpose. Gulltown awaited, a city that would be the first step on their road to King's Landing. But within its walls lay opportunities, and Jon's secret plan to participate in the upcoming Tourney of the Hand was a crucial part of their strategy.
Emilia stood beside Jon, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "What will happen when we reach Gulltown?" she asked quietly.
Jon took a deep breath, considering his words. "We'll blend in, gather information, and make our way to King's Landing by road," he replied. "The Tourney of the Hand is our best chance to earn some coin and position ourselves strategically. But we must be cautious. The Usurper's spies are everywhere."
Rhea stepped forward, her eyes filled with determination. "We'll be ready," she said firmly. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together."
The ship sailed steadily toward its destination, carrying Jon and his party to the first stage of their journey. They were prepared, united by their shared mission and the bonds they had forged. Gulltown awaited, and with it, the next chapter of their journey towards King's Landing.
—
The royal party had set up camp by the Trident, the lush greenery and the gentle sound of flowing water providing a brief respite from their journey to King's Landing. Tents dotted the landscape, banners fluttering in the morning breeze. The scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread filled the air as the cooks prepared breakfast for the nobility and their retinue.
Ned Stark sat with King Robert Baratheon at a long wooden table set up in the open air. His daughters, Arya and Sansa, along with his son Bran, were nearby, enjoying their meal under the watchful eyes of their guards. The sun was still low in the sky, casting long shadows and a soft golden light over the scene.
Robert, ever the boisterous presence, took a hearty swig of wine from his goblet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing like a good breakfast and a fine wine to start the day, eh, Ned?" he said, his voice booming with good cheer.
Ned nodded, his expression more subdued. "Indeed, Your Grace. Though I'm not sure if wine is the best choice for breakfast," he replied, his tone light but his mind clearly elsewhere.
Robert laughed heartily, clapping Ned on the back. "Ah, you Northern folk and your sober ways! Down here, we believe in enjoying life's pleasures whenever we can. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"
Arya, sitting a little distance away with Bran, was more interested in the surroundings than in her breakfast. She watched the squires and knights preparing for the day's travel, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement. Sansa, on the other hand, sat primly, delicately picking at her food, her thoughts likely filled with dreams of courtly life in King's Landing.
Bran, still young and full of wonder, was fascinated by the stories the older knights were telling, his eyes lighting up at tales of battles and dragons.
As Ned watched his children, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Despite his reservations about this journey and the dangers he knew awaited in King's Landing, seeing his children happy, even if just for a moment, brought him some measure of peace.
Robert noticed Ned's distraction and leaned in, lowering his voice. "You're thinking about Jon, aren't you?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
Ned sighed, nodding slightly. "I can't help but worry about him. He's in Essos now, with all its dangers. I hope he finds his place there."
Robert grunted in acknowledgment. "Jon's a strong lad. He'll be fine. Besides, he's got the blood of the North in him. He'll thrive."
Ned looked at Robert, appreciating the king's attempt to reassure him. "I hope you're right, Robert. I truly do."
As Arya, Sansa, and Bran finished their breakfast, Arya and Bran were already eager to explore the Trident. Ned, ever the cautious father, instructed Jory Cassel to assign Stark guards to watch over them like hawks. Sansa, more reserved, joined them reluctantly, casting curious glances back at the royal camp.
Once the children had departed, Robert leaned back in his chair, his expression turning more serious. "Ned, we need to talk about Sansa and Joffrey."
Ned felt a familiar knot of tension in his stomach. Robert had been persistent about this subject, and Ned had so far managed to deflect the conversation with polite refusals. "Robert, we've discussed this. I don't want to force my daughters into marriages against their will."
Robert shook his head, his face a mix of frustration and determination. "Ned, this isn't just about what they want. This is about the future of our houses, the stability of the realm. A union between House Stark and House Baratheon would solidify our alliance."
Ned sighed, choosing his words carefully. "I understand that, Robert. But Sansa is still young, and Joffrey... he is not the kind of boy I want my daughter to be tied to."
Robert's eyes narrowed slightly. "You know as well as I do that we can't always choose who we marry. Duty often comes before personal desires. You've always understood that."
Ned looked away, his mind racing. The real reason he was hesitant about this betrothal went beyond Sansa's feelings or Joffrey's character. He knew there was a very real chance that Jon might press his claim to the throne after Robert's death, a possibility that seemed more likely with every passing day. Robert's drinking and whoring had only worsened, and Ned would be surprised if his friend didn't have any sexually transmitted diseases. The thought of tying his family so closely to the Baratheons, only for that union to potentially turn them into targets, was a risk he wasn't willing to take.
"Robert," Ned began, his voice steady, "my loyalty to you and the realm is unwavering. But I must consider what's best for my children. Sansa is just a girl, and Joffrey... he needs to grow and mature before we can even think about such an arrangement."
Robert's expression softened slightly, but he remained resolute. "I know you're trying to protect your children, Ned. But we must think of the bigger picture. The realm needs strong alliances, especially now."
Ned met Robert's gaze, his resolve firm. "I promise you, I will consider the matter carefully. But for now, let's not rush into decisions that could shape the rest of their lives."
Robert sighed heavily, clearly frustrated but willing to let the matter rest for now. "Very well, Ned. But don't take too long. The realm waits for no one."
As they sat in silence, Ned couldn't help but feel the weight of the future pressing down on him. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, and every decision carried the potential for immense consequences. For now, he would continue to navigate these treacherous waters, hoping to protect his family from the storm he sensed on the horizon.
—-
Meanwhile, Sansa was exploring the Trident, her mood lifted by the warm sun and the gentle breeze. She was accompanied by her friend Jeyne Poole and a few armed guards, their presence ensuring her safety as they wandered along the riverbank. The beauty of the scenery, with its lush greenery and sparkling water, was a welcome distraction from the complexities of court life.
Initially, Sansa had been enamored by Prince Joffrey, captivated by his handsome looks and his status as the heir to the Iron Throne. The idea of becoming his queen had once filled her with excitement and dreams of a grand future. But, as time passed and she observed his behavior more closely, those rose-tinted glasses began to fade. Joffrey was not the golden lion he portrayed himself to be; instead, he was a spoiled brat, prone to cruelty and arrogance.
Jeyne, sensing Sansa's contemplative mood, nudged her friend gently. "What are you thinking about, Sansa?"
Sansa sighed, glancing back at the camp where Joffrey's presence was like a looming shadow. "Just...everything. The journey to King's Landing, the people we will meet there."
"And Joffrey?" Jeyne asked, her tone cautious.
Sansa nodded. "Yes, Joffrey too. I used to think he was perfect, you know? Like a prince out of a storybook. But now, I see things differently."
Jeyne gave her a sympathetic look. "He's not what you hoped for, is he?"
"No," Sansa admitted. "He's not. He's cruel, Jeyne. I've seen how he treats people when he thinks no one is watching. I don't want to marry someone like that."
Jeyne squeezed Sansa's hand, offering silent support. "You're brave, Sansa. It's hard to let go of dreams, especially ones we've held onto for so long."
Sansa smiled faintly, appreciating her friend's understanding. "Thank you, Jeyne. I just hope my father will understand. He's always so protective."
"I'm sure he will," Jeyne reassured her. "Your father loves you and wants what's best for you. He'll listen."
As they walked along the riverbank, the guards maintained a respectful distance, allowing the girls some semblance of privacy while remaining vigilant. Sansa felt a sense of relief, knowing she had Jeyne by her side and her father's support to rely on. The future might be uncertain, but she was determined to face it with a clearer understanding of the world around her.
They stopped by a cluster of trees, where the sound of birdsong mingled with the rushing water. Sansa took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a while. The Trident was beautiful, and for a moment, she could forget the pressures of her impending arrival at King's Landing.
"I hope we can come back here someday," Sansa said softly, looking out over the water.
Jeyne smiled. "Me too, Sansa. Me too."
As they continued their exploration, the bond between them strengthened, and Sansa felt more prepared to face whatever lay ahead. She had her family, her friends, and her own inner strength to guide her, and that would be enough.
---
Elsewhere, Arya and Bran were having the time of their lives, playing knights with Mycah, the butcher's boy. They ran around, wooden swords clashing, their laughter echoing through the trees. Mycah was pretending to be a fearsome dragon, and Arya was a valiant knight, determined to slay the beast and save Bran, the captive prince.
Suddenly, their fun was interrupted by an imperious voice. "What are you doing here, peasants?" Joffrey Baratheon, accompanied by Sandor Clegane, the Hound, approached with a sneer on his face. Joffrey looked at Arya and Bran with disdain, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Mycah.
"Just playing," Arya said, her grip tightening on her wooden sword.
Joffrey's sneer deepened. "Playing at being knights, are we? How quaint. Let's see how brave you really are."
He drew his real sword, a finely crafted weapon that gleamed in the sunlight. "Fight me, butcher's boy. Let's see if you're as tough as you pretend to be."
Mycah backed away, fear evident in his eyes. "I was just playing, your grace. I don't want to fight."
Joffrey advanced, ignoring Mycah's pleas. Arya stepped in front of Mycah, her chin raised defiantly. "Leave him alone, Joffrey."
"Stay out of this, you little beast," Joffrey snarled. "This is between me and the butcher's boy."
Unbeknownst to Joffrey, King Robert, Ned Stark, and Ser Barristan Selmy had been passing by and had paused to watch the unfolding scene from a distance. Robert's expression turned dark as he observed his son's behavior.
Ned's jaw tightened, but he made no move, wanting to see how his children handled the situation.
Joffrey raised his sword, but before he could swing, a stern voice cut through the tension. "What is going on here?"
Robert stepped forward, his face a mask of fury. "Joffrey, put that sword down. Now."
Joffrey hesitated, clearly taken aback by his father's sudden appearance. "Father, I was just—"
"Put it down!" Robert's voice boomed, leaving no room for argument.
Joffrey reluctantly lowered his sword, casting a venomous look at Arya and Mycah. "They were playing at being knights, Father. I was just—"
Robert cut him off with a raised hand. "Enough. Playing or not, you do not draw a sword on an unarmed boy. Have you no honor?"
Ned stepped forward, placing a hand on Arya's shoulder. "Are you all right, Arya?"
Arya nodded, her eyes still glaring at Joffrey. "Yes, Father."
Robert turned to the Hound. "Take the prince back to camp. We'll discuss this later."
The Hound nodded and led a sullen Joffrey away. Robert watched them go, shaking his head in disappointment.
Ned looked at Robert. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Robert sighed heavily. "I'll have words with him. But you, Arya, did well to stand up for your friend."
Arya smiled slightly, feeling a swell of pride. Mycah, still shaken, looked at Arya with gratitude.
As the group made their way back to camp, Robert walked alongside Ned. "He's got a lot to learn, Ned. A lot to learn."
Ned nodded, glancing back at Arya and Bran. "So do we all, Robert. So do we all."
---
Author's Note:
Hey everyone! In the upcoming chapter, Jon will be making 10 Gacha rolls specifically for Character Cards instead of 50 random rolls. I'd love to hear your suggestions on which characters you'd like to see Jon summon to Westeros. Let your imagination run wild! Your input could shape the next exciting developments in our story. Leave your suggestions in the comments below!
---
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