Tomas accompanied an irritable Arya Stark to the nearby town where Mycah was said to live along the Green Fork. He smiled at her only for the small girl to return his smile with a glare as she was still clearly upset over the attempted kiss from earlier. Nymeria was not far off, staying between their horses as this time the crown prince was smart enough to keep his distance from the girl and her pet wolf.

The smallfolk stared at the crown prince in awe. It was clear from the look on their faces that not many royalty came up through here. The town was worn and beaten and the people were barely managing to get by with the dirt on their faces and the rags on their backs. Tomas's clean face and clothes would have been enough to differentiate him from the rest, let alone the gowns of the royal family.

"You're drawing too much attention," said Arya annoyed. "They'll never leave us be."

Tomas frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was spoil the girl's day. Arya had light amounts of dirt on her own face and the riding leather she wore made her blend in with the town here more than the prince ever could. Beggars came up to Tomas's horse pleading the prince for any money he had on his person. Tomas felt guilty that he did not think to bring any money with him, although his robes could probably pay for a grand feast for the entire village. He continued past them keeping his head down and Arya looked at him disgusted as she tossed some silver she had remaining into the path of the beggars who dropped to their knees to pick it up and thanked the girl for her kindness. Tomas avoided eye-contact with the girl. At this rate he was never going to get on her good side.

"We're here," said Arya, coming to a stop.

Tomas looked in front of him to see a meat wagon, the smell caused his nose to winkle and eyes to water. It was the most disgusting smell in this entire village and he was left wondering what kind of game Arya was playing, looking at her bemused at the recent development.

"A meat wagon?" Tomas asked.

"This is where Mycah lives," said Arya climbing down her horse.

"A meat wagon?" Tomas repeated.

"We all can't live in a castle," replied Arya.

Arya dug around in the meat wagon until red hair so bright it looked orange could be seen sticking out of it. Tomas tilted his head as Arya whacked the boy with a piece of meat. "Wake up, Mycah," said Arya.

The boy groaned and stood up out of the wagon rubbing his eyes. His face was as rough as his living conditions and freckles covered his cheeks. "Arya?" The boy asked, his vision beginning to clear to see the girl and the prince.

"We're headed to the Ruby Ford, come on," said Arya.

The boy's eyes settled on the prince. "My lord!"

Tomas only blinked, not used to the address. It was obvious the boy didn't recognize him as a prince, which he found odd given how well known both his families are, unless the boy just didn't know his addresses.

"This is Prince Tomas," Arya introduced. "Prince Tomas, Mycah. Mycah, Prince Tomas."

"M-my prince!" said Mycah nervously.

Tomas waved while smiling the best he could through the smell that radiated off of the boy. Arya let Mycah ride behind her and galloped so fast Tomas got the impression she was trying to ditch him. In truth she was probably just trying to lose the villagers Tomas attracted with his presence. The prince picked up speed on his own horse to stay by her side on the way to the Ruby Ford. Out of the corner of Tomas's eye, Mycah kept looking over in his direction making the crown prince uncomfortable. "Is something on my face?" Tomas asked.

"N-no, my prince," replied Mycah. "It's your hair. It shines differently in the light.

Tomas's lips let out an "ah" sound in response and lazily twirled a finger through his curly locks. "That's because I was born with gold hair that shined like the sun," Tomas explained. "Before my fourteenth nameday I took some hair dye from the handmaidens and colored my hair. It was a right mess dripping wet on the floor. When my father saw me he said, "What in the seven hells did you do to your hair!" But when he thought about how Mother would react, he ordered the handmaidens to finish the job for me. The look on my mother's face when she saw me afterwords. If looks could kill I would not be having this conversation."

"Why did you dye it?" asked Arya.

"I wanted to look more like my father," replied Tomas. "The Baratheons always had hair as black as a crow's feathers and mine was nowhere near as dark. I hated looking like my mother and wanted to look as close to my father as was possible."

"Except you don't," said Arya. "You still look like your mother."

"Don't remind me," replied the prince.

"You shouldn't change your hair just to appease your father," said Arya.

"Not even if I really want to?" asked Tomas in a humorous tone similar to his uncle, Tyrion.

Arya looked at Tomas annoyed for a brand new set of reasons before she and Mycah hopped off their horse when they arrived at the Ruby Ford. Tomas only chuckled at the stare, finding it funny that the girl even cared what he did with his hair. The pair's eyes were fixated on the ground searching for anything red that glowed. All that was on the ground aside from grass were rocks, sticks, and dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. Tomas didn't expect any of the rubies from Rhaegar's armor to still be here. The Battle of the Trident happened years ago before any of them were even born. If there were rubies to be found they would have been uncovered and probably sold already. But Tomas didn't want to ruin their fun so he said nothing during his dismount.

Tomas caught a glare from the dark gold eyes of the direwolf while approaching the pair. He followed her glance to the pants sleeve that concealed the knife on his ankle. Does she think I intend to stab them? Tomas thought to himself. Almost finding the thought amusing if true. He would have never showed anyone the knife in the first place if he intended to stab somebody with it. As a gesture of good will, Tomas removed the strap from his ankle and rested it on his horse's saddle. A smile gracing his face at Nymeria who only stared back at him in kind. Tomas slowly walked over to Arya and Mycah, not wanting to make any sudden movements that gave the direwolf cause for concern. The last thing he needed was to be tackled to the ground and ripped apart.

"You find anything?" Tomas asked.

"No," replied Mycah, disappointed.

"We only started looking," said Arya, looking at Tomas. "He was your father. Where were they standing when he knocked the rubies off?"

Tomas raised an eyebrow at the question. "Do you really expect my father to be able to remember that far back? I can't even remember what I did a fortnight ago."

"Whatever," Arya replied, moving on ahead until she came across a big stick on the ground. "Look!" She picked the stick up and swung it in her hand like a sword. "It's big enough to be a practice sword."

"Careful, Mycah, she's armed," joked Tomas.

Mycah laughed and Arya gave a not at all amused "Hah, hah" in response; picking up another stick of similar size and tossing it to Tomas. "Let's see what you can do then, my prince."

Tomas stared at the stick like it was a foreign object and then back at Arya in uncertainty. Mycah was already backing away from the two to give them room.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Arya.

"I was told never to strike a lady," replied Tomas.

"Don't call me that!" demanded Arya.

"Would you rather I call you a boy?" asked Tomas.

Arya swung the stick at him forcing the prince to block. "Don't call me that either!" she said.

"What in the seven hells do you want me to call you!?" Tomas shot back.

"My name is Arya!" she yelled, striking at the prince some more with the stick. Tomas could only parry each strike and back away at her aggression. "Fight back!" she cried.

"I would fight back if you'd stop swinging that bloody stick at me!"

Tomas ran to the left only to be cut off by Arya by the time he got there. He then ran right, once again being blocked by Arya who swung at him again and barely missed. The girl was fast. Faster than Robb. Of course she was nowhere near as strong given her small stature, even still, those strikes at his hand hurt like hells when she got him. He was thankful neither his father nor Uncle Renly was here to see this. His father would have him disciplined for being beaten up by a girl and Renly would be laughing his beautiful ass off at the sight. The only witnesses to the display was a peasant boy and an animal that couldn't talk and he pointed his stick at the peasant boy. "You're not to breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Not a word to anyone, right," said Mycah.

"Not to breathe a word of what?" asked Arya, repeatedly beating the stick across his back.

"Hey!" yelled Tomas.

"Not to breathe a word of what?" the girl asked again, striking the stick at him harder.

"You're an abusive little child, you know that?" asked Tomas.

Tomas screamed when Arya chased him around the ford, more laughter drew from Mycah's breath and the direwolf tilted her head at the scene. Arya kept swinging at him and Tomas had difficulty keeping his balance. "Quit it!" he said, his anger starting to rise as Arya wouldn't relent. "I said quit it!" Tomas shouted, shoving Arya to the ground in his anger. Tomas was surprised at himself, not believing that he actually just did that. Arya's gray eyes stared at him furiously.

"Arya, I'm sorry," Tomas said.

"You are just a little shit!" Arya yelled.

"Let me help you."

Tomas went over to help her up, but Arya slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" she cried.

"I'm only trying to–!"

"I said don't touch me!"

Tomas reached his hand out to grabs her and she slapped it away each time. They struggled, Mycah stepping forward debating internally whether or not he should do something while Arya's direwolf got up on all fours. The snarl from Nymeria didn't even register to either of them until it was too late. Tomas felt the wolf's massive teeth bite down on his wrist causing ample amount of pain to shoot through his entire arm as a result. Arya gasped in surprise and Tomas screamed, holding onto his wrist and backing away squirming. Mycah ran over to check on the prince, Arya holding Nymeria back from doing any more damage looking on in concern.

"Are you all right, my prince?" asked Mycah.

"Do I look bloody all right to you!?" yelled Tomas.

"Don't yell at him!" shouted Arya.

"I'll yell at whoever I like your damn wolf bit me!"

"She didn't mean to. She thought I was in danger. If the queen finds out she's going to want to hurt Nymeria."

Tomas saw the fear and pleading in Arya's eyes and it was enough to bring him down from his anger. He looked to his wrist, the direwolf had gotten him on his sword hand. Blood was starting to drip down his arm from where the two bite marks were. The colors left his cheek and he thought he was going to faint at the mere sight of it, but he willed himself through it.

"My mother doesn't need to know I'm hurt," said Tomas. "Mycah, if you'd please."

Mycah escorted Tomas over to the river where they washed out the wound. Tomas bit down on his lower lip to suppress the scream that wanted to dive out of his mouth at the washing. They managed to wash away most of the blood but more continued to draw from the wound and Tomas did his best not to throw up.

"I need something to stop the bleeding," said Tomas.

"I don't have anything," replied Mycah.

Arya looked between the two, ripping off her arm sleeve and walking over to where the prince was. She gently took him by the arm and wrapped her piece of cloth around the wound like a bandage, pulling down the sleeve on his robes to hide it much like the knife that was on his ankle.

"Thank you," said Tomas.

"Are you sure we're going to be able to hide this from your mother?" asked Arya.

Tomas wasn't sure, but he nodded nonetheless. "Anyone ask about your sleeve just say you tore it on something. I think they'd believe that."

Arya would have glared at him for that if it wasn't for the circumstances, that much the prince knew. "Can you ride?" she asked.

"No," the prince answered. "I can't ride with my right hand. I'll have to walk it."

"I'll go on ahead and take Mycah home. Meet you at the inn."

Tomas nodded, watching Arya take off with Mycah and Nymeria, the words "thank you" mouthing off from the girl's lips just before the distance swallowed them whole. He wasn't sure to be proud, ashamed, embarrassed, or a combination of the three, but Tomas at least took comfort in knowing he did something right in the end. He walked over to his horse's side, placing the knife he left on the saddle back on his ankle now that Nymeria wasn't there to give him a hard time about it. He gripped the end of the rope that tied around the animal's nose and led it across the ford.

Tomas looked down to his injured wrist and chuckled lightly. My first battle scar and I can't even show it to anybody. If it could even qualify. Emerald green eyes gazed out to the countryside, taking in the beauty of it all on his way back to the inn. Tomas was already thinking of a convincing lie to tell anyone who became the least bit suspicious about his wrist and how his body language should play out. He found it amusing that he was going through so much trouble to protect the pet of a girl who was mean to him. All because he liked her in spite of the fact.

The things I do for love.