The Trident made its own presence known long before I reached the clearing.
The sound of it pushed through the trees, deeper and more constant than anything in the marsh, water forcing its way over stone in a steady rush that swallowed smaller noises without effort.
There was a soothing quality to it.
I followed the bank through the taller grass, keeping low as I approached. My paws still stung with every step, the skin not fully recovered from the road, but the looming danger at the edge of my awareness kept me moving without hesitation. The ache in my shoulder lingered as well, but it had settled into something I could work through.
The clearing came into view in pieces between the reeds.
Arya and Mycah stood near the water's edge, circling each other with sticks raised, their movements uneven but full of energy. They were laughing, both of them flushed from the effort, their focus locked on the game rather than anything beyond it.
"I'll get you!" Mycah shouted, swinging his stick.
The moment held for a breath longer than it should have.
Then it broke.
"Arya!"
Sansa's voice cut across the clearing. She rode in from the path, her mare stepping carefully over the uneven ground, Joffrey close beside her on his taller horse.
They didn't belong to the scene in front of them, and the contrast showed in everything from their posture to the way they looked at what they were interrupting.
Arya lowered her stick, the change in her expression was immediate. "What are you doing here? Go away."
Joffrey ignored her completely.
His attention fixed on Mycah, narrowing slightly as he took in the boy standing there with a stick in his hands and no understanding of what was about to happen.
"Your sister? And who are you, boy?"
"Mycah, my Lord," the boy stammered, his grip tightening.
"He's the butcher's boy," Sansa added, as if that settled everything.
"He's my friend," Arya snapped.
Joffrey nudged his horse forward, the animal's hooves pressing into the soft ground as he closed the distance, using the height and weight of it to force Mycah back without touching him directly.
"A butcher's boy who wants to be a Knight, eh? Pick up your sword, butcher's boy. Let's see how good you are."
Mycah's eyes dropped, his voice shaking. "She asked me to, my Lord. She asked me to."
"I'm your prince, not your lord, and I said pick up your sword." Joffrey's voice smoothed out as he spoke.
"It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick."
"And you're not a Knight. Only a butcher's boy. That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?"
"Stop it!" Arya yelled.
"Arya, stay out of this," Sansa pleaded, her voice already breaking.
Joffrey continued.
He drew Lion's Tooth, the blade catching the last of the light as it cleared his side. The change in the situation was immediate, the play gone from it completely as sword replaced wood.
He came down from his saddle, bringing the point toward Mycah's face, letting it hover just long enough to make the threat real before dragging it lightly across the boy's cheek.
"I won't hurt him... Much."
Arya moved before anyone else could.
She stepped in and swung her stick hard, the impact landing across Joffrey's arm with a sharp crack.
"Filthy little bitch!" Joffrey screamed, recoiling as his grip faltered. He turned on her, whatever restraint he had left gone completely.
Sansa's control broke with it.
"No no, stop it, stop it, both of you. You're spoiling it. You're spoiling everything!"
Joffrey lunged forward, blade lifting as he closed on Arya.
"I'll gut you, you little cunt!"
"Arya!" Sansa shrieked.
I saw Nymeria move in the brush as her protective instinct took over.
If she stepped in now, it would end the same way it should be.
I moved before that could happen.
The distance consumed by each step, my focus narrowing down to timing and angle as I broke from the grass. I didn't go high and I didn't hesitate. I drove forward into the back of Joffrey's knee just as he was about to strike.
The impact took him off balance immediately.
His leg folded, and he went down into the mud with a heavy, uneven fall, it knocked the breath out of him in a sharp gasp.
I didn't give him time to recover.
I lunged again, catching the crossguard of the sword in my jaws and twisting hard, using the slickness of his grip and the angle against him. The blade came free before he could tighten his hold again.
I turned and carried it with me in the same motion, closing the short distance to the water.
The throw wasn't clean, but it didn't need to be.
The sword spun once in the air, caught the light briefly, and disappeared into the current with a soft splash that was gone almost as soon as it happened.
When I turned back, the change in the situation was complete.
Joffrey pushed himself up from the mud, his clothes ruined, his expression caught between disbelief and rage as he stared at his empty hand.
"You..." he choked out. "You filthy... My sword! You threw away my sword!"
I stood where I was, placing myself between him and the others without making it obvious. I didn't need to show teeth or make noise. The absence of the blade had already done that for me.
Sansa hadn't moved, her hands still pressed over her mouth as she stared toward the river.
Arya stood just behind me, her attention fixed on Joffrey now, the shock already giving way.
Nymeria had settled back as the moment passed without her needing to act.
"Mycah, run," Arya whispered.
The boy didn't hesitate. He turned and ran for the trees, disappearing into the brush before Joffrey could get his footing.
Joffrey staggered upright, mud clinging to him.
"I'll have you killed! I'll tell my father! I'll tell the Queen!"
"Tell them what?" Arya stepped forward. "That a dog tripped you because you were bullying a boy? You weren't even bitten, Joffrey. There isn't a scratch on you. Go ahead, show them your 'wounds.'"
He looked at himself then, really looked, and found nothing but mud and humiliation.
There was no blood to point to.
No injury to claim.
Only the fact that he had lost control in front of witnesses.
As Sansa tried to calm him, he spat out. "Don't touch me!"
He turned away, climbing back onto his horse without looking back.
I watched him leave, the tension in the air easing slowly as distance replaced it.
The system flickered faintly at the edge of my vision.
[Objective: Change the Fate of the Wolves - Completed.]
[Level 13 reached]
[Status: Target Humiliated / Wolves Safe]
Arya came over after a moment and knelt beside me in the grass, her hand settling against my head without hesitation. She didn't speak right away, her attention drifting toward the river where the sword had vanished.
"Thank you, Red," she whispered, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
I nudged her hand lightly.
The moment had passed, but it hadn't ended anything.
Joffrey would remember this.
So would the people around him.
I turned back toward the inn and started walking, the sounds of the camp rising again as I moved closer, the peace of the river fading behind me.
We still had miles to go before King's Landing.
But the drama hasn't ended.
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