The southbound royal party passed through the Neck and once again stopped near the Trident.
This time, the delay could not be blamed on the queen.
Her massive wheelhouse had long since been repaired and now rested properly on the high bank of the river.
The one truly slowing the journey was the king.
Robert had heard there were wild bulls nearby.
At dawn he dragged Eddard and dozens of men into the western forest to hunt, leaving the entire caravan waiting.
As for why Joffrey had not been invited this time—
"You've got more important things to do," Robert had said before mounting his horse, giving him a knowing wink.
The meaning behind that wink had been painfully obvious.
So when Joffrey returned to the riverbank, he found a chaotic scene.
A crowd had gathered in a circle, pointing and whispering about something in the center.
"It's a wolf."
"Seven hells... a direwolf."
The Hound shoved his way through roughly.
"What are you all staring at?"
The crowd quieted.
"Have you never seen a wolf before? The Starks practically raise them as wet nurses."
Joffrey's expression shifted slightly, and he walked forward.
The people quickly stepped aside.
At the center of the circle stood Sandor, holding Sansa gently by the shoulders.
Her face was pale, fingers clenched tightly around her skirt. At her feet, the direwolf Lady had raised her fur and growled softly at the surrounding people.
"Dog, you're frightening her," Joffrey said.
Sandor shrugged and pushed Sansa toward him before stepping back into the crowd.
"Sansa, please don't mind him," Joffrey said, keeping a respectful distance as he spoke gently. "The Hound may look frightening, but he's actually quite kind."
At least when dealing with children, especially girls.
Sansa lifted her blue eyes and shook her head. "Your Highness, it isn't Ser Sandor."
"...I'm afraid of the other one."
She tilted her head slightly, glancing past Joffrey's shoulder.
Cersei stood at the top of the wheelhouse steps, smiling as she looked down at the riverbank.
On the open grass nearby stood three men who had ridden from King's Landing to welcome the royal party back.
Joffrey narrowed his eyes, studying their faces.
The silent one wore iron-gray mail over a leather coat. His face was covered in pockmarks, cheeks hollow, and only a few thin strands of hair remained above his ears.
The older man beside him wore gleaming white scale armor and the cloak of the Kingsguard. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his posture was straight as a spear.
The last man drew even more attention.
His shoulder-length black hair gleamed like polished obsidian, clearly washed several times. His bright green armor shone like forest leaves.
That was likely the set Tobho Mott had mentioned earlier.
The two well-dressed knights exchanged glances before quickly shifting the blame onto the one who could not defend himself.
"My lady," the white-cloaked knight said warmly, stepping forward, "Ser Ilyn does look frightening. Even I sometimes feel uneasy when I see him."
"That is exactly as it should be," Cersei said as she descended the steps. "The king's Justice must inspire fear in criminals."
Sansa inhaled slowly and regained her composure.
She brushed the grass from her skirt and replied with perfect courtesy.
"Then Your Grace has chosen well."
Laughter spread through the crowd.
"Well said," the older knight chuckled, nodding toward her. "Truly worthy of Lord Stark's daughter."
"I know who you are," Sansa replied politely. "You are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
"Even in the far North, the singers still praise the deeds of Barristan the Bold."
Before their compliments could continue any longer, the green-armored knight stepped forward with a grin.
"Careful there, little wolf. You might flatter him too much."
"Tell me, can you guess who I am?"
His tone was playful.
Joffrey cleared his throat. "Speak with some courtesy."
He knew the man meant no harm. Despite his handsome face, Renly's interests lay elsewhere.
Sansa answered cleverly, managing neither to flatter too deeply nor offend.
"My lord, the golden stag upon your helmet marks the royal house, and you appear both young and noble."
"You must be Lord Renly Baratheon of Storm's End, a great lord of the realm."
Barristan's silver beard trembled with laughter.
"Impossible. Someone that young could only be a troublemaker who hasn't finished playing yet."
Renly burst into laughter, and the others joined in.
The tension vanished.
But the one who had been ignored finally pushed through the crowd.
Sansa pressed her lips together nervously. "Ser Ilyn... if I offended you, I apologize."
The mute knight naturally gave no reply.
Seeing Sansa glance toward him for help, Joffrey explained. "He once served as captain of my grandfather's household guard."
"He said something that displeased the Mad King. For that, his tongue was torn out with heated pincers."
Sansa's eyes widened in horror and pity.
Joffrey chose not to explain what he had said to deserve it.
Cersei approached with a pleasant smile. "Sansa, I'm afraid your plans with Myrcella must wait. I need to discuss state matters with these lords today."
"Would you mind letting Joffrey accompany you instead?"
At those words, the sharp intelligence Sansa had shown moments earlier disappeared instantly, replaced by dreamy excitement.
"Let's go riding," Joffrey suggested as he led her away from the crowd.
"I would love that," Sansa said brightly.
Joffrey called for the Hound, while Sansa summoned Lady.
Safety came first.
Three riders and one direwolf soon traveled west along the northern bank of the Trident.
They chased shadowcats along the hills, waded into the river to catch fat trout, and when hunger struck they followed the smoke of a farmhouse.
The couple who answered the door nearly fainted at the sight of Sandor.
Joffrey patiently explained that the Hound was not a monster.
They were merely looking for a meal.
Of course, he paid for it.
When Joffrey placed a silver stag on the table, the farmer smiled widely. "It's an honor to serve Your Highness. I couldn't possibly accept payment."
After eating and drinking their fill, they continued wandering on horseback, singing loudly.
Even the Hound joined in with a rough soldier's tune.
Laughter echoed between the hoofbeats. Then suddenly Sandor yanked hard on his reins.
"Quiet. I hear something."
Strange sounds came from the woods ahead. It sounded like wood striking wood.
The Hound drew his sword and cautiously rode forward.
"You two stay here."
Sansa instinctively moved closer to Joffrey.
He drew Lion's Tooth from his belt.
The sword already had its name when it came into his hands. That could not be changed.
Joffrey quickly scanned the surroundings, trying to determine their location.
Then his heart tightened.
Fifteen years ago, Robert had killed Prince Rhaegar here with his warhammer, winning the battle that ended the Targaryen dynasty.
This was also where Arya once practiced swordplay with the butcher's boy.
Although he had approached the situation partly out of curiosity, now that the moment had truly arrived, a chill spread through his body.
Earlier, Joffrey had deliberately avoided this place.
But just now, he had relaxed for a moment and let the horses wander.
They had circled through the countryside. And somehow they had still ended up here.
Some paths, it seemed, could not be escaped.
Even if you tried.
__________
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