A month had passed since the Royal Party had set off from Winterfell.
Cate spent her time with her sisters, entertaining them when they grew bored of watching the countryside pass on the Kingsroad, and quelling their arguments with a joke before they could even start. If Sansa, graceful and romantic, was the sun, then tomboyish, rebellious Arya was the moon. Cate was the medium, the negotiator. Being sisters was a balancing act, but one she would happily perform for them.
However, Sansa was spending more and more time with the queen and her entourage, and it was beginning to show. Just the week before, she'd altered an old frock to look more like the queen's gowns, adding a lower-cut neckline and long, billowing sleeves.
"Mother would die if she saw you now," Cate said as the two girls walked Moondancer and Lady through the camp made at the inn near the Trident.
"She would not, she grew up in the south. Besides, she's not here to see." Sansa looked over at the queen's ladies, styling their hair in elaborate braided updos. "I wonder if it's easy to recreate one of those?"
Cate sighed, rolling her eyes. She was about to respond when Sansa let out a squeak, halting midstep.
Looking up, Cate saw standing right in front of them a bald man with fierce eyes half-hidden under thick white eyebrows. Had she not been right in front of him, she would've thought him pretty normal - yet his eyes were cold, inhumane almost, as he glared at her and Sansa.
"Pardon me, Ser," Sansa said meekly. The man just stared back at her with those intense, frightening eyes.
Both girls jumped at the feeling of a hand on their shoulder, and each turned to see the prince's enormous guard - Sandor Clegane. Without the dog-shaped helm, Cate could see the massive scar that took up the entire right side of his face. Lady let out a whine, and Moondancer stepped in front of her litter-mate.
"Do I frighten you so much, girl?" He asked Sansa. "Or is it him there making you shake? He frightens me, too. Look at that face."
Both girls turned to look at the ominously silent man.
"I'm sorry if I offended you, Ser," Sansa apologized.
"I think your face is lovely," Cate offered.
The silent man abruptly stalked off.
"Why won't he speak?" Sansa asked Clegane.
"He hasn't been very talkative these past twenty years," the guard explained, "since the Mad King ripped his tongue out with hot pincers."
Sansa shuddered, and Cate's mouth fell open a little.
"He speaks damn well with his sword, though."
Again, both girls turned to see the golden-haired crown prince, a smirk adorning his face. Sansa's face lit up as she smiled, her eyes taking on that dreamy glimmer. Cate found herself wishing it was Sansa who was betrothed to Prince Joffrey instead of her. "Ser Ilyn Payne," he continued to explain, "the King's justice."
Cate raised an eyebrow. "You don't perform the executions yourself?"
Joffrey gave her a look somewhere between bewildered and disgusted. "Why would I? I'm the prince."
"There's a custom in the North," Cate explained. "The man who passes the sentence swings the sword. If you take a man's life, you should look into his eyes and hear his final words."
The look he gave her now was clearly disgust. "Perhaps for a Northern lord, but a king is above such petty work."
Before Cate could snap back, Sansa piped up. "The practice is rather outdated, but perhaps your marriage will finally bring the North into the modern age."
Right. Marriage. Betrothal. Mother had advised her to be nice, to try and get to know the prince before passing judgement.
It was a hard task.
"Is there anything you approached us for, my prince?" Cate asked him.
"The sun is finally shining. Come walk with me."
"I prefer riding."
Joffrey looked surprised at that. "If my Lady insists."
Cate started to walk in the direction of the stables with Moondancer still in hand, but Joffrey stepped in front of her.
"Leave the wolf," he ordered. "And I'll leave behind my Hound."
Really? She thought. Well, she supposed it was only fair considering she'd picked riding. There was time for him later to get used to Moondancer. Cate sighed, and leaned down to untie the leather around her direwolf's neck.
"Go play," she urged her direwolf. "Go find Nymeria."
Moondancer shook her neck before trotting off into the forest
Joffrey insisted on making the groomsmen saddle their horses, and they set off along the Trident. The ride was awkward, with Joffrey occasionally pointing out random animals. Cate asked him about King's Landing, and he gave a vague answer about the city being "as most cities are."
He offered her a flask of wine, and she turned it down.
She asked him about what he liked to do when he didn't have lessons, and he started on a tangent about battles and fierce warriors.
He offered her the wine flask again in the middle of his speech, of which he'd already had several drinks from. She accepted this time.
Halfway through his praising of Robert Baratheon's prowess at the Trident - He swung a hammer, Cate thought, it didn't require that much skill - they paused, hearing the sound of wooden clattering from a clearing by the river. Curious, they went to investigate.
It was Arya and some boy calling "I'll get you!" as they fought with sticks.
Well, not really fought, it was more like waving them around and sometimes hitting them against each other. Cate giggled, and Arya turned at the sound. The boy, using her distraction, rapped Arya's knuckles with the stick.
"Your sister?" Joffrey slurred. He must have had more to drink than Cate realized. "And who are you, boy?"
The boy, suddenly awkward, dropped his arm to his side. "Mycah, my Lord."
"Aren't you the butcher's boy from the inn?" Cate asked.
"He's my friend," Arya said.
Cate was ready to leave at that, but Joffrey had other ideas.
"A butcher's boy who wants to be a Knight, eh?" Smirking, he slid from his horse and unsheathed the sword at his side. He'd told Cate it's name, something insipid like 'Lion's Tooth' or 'Lion's Claw.' "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy. Let's see how good you are."
Cate watched the prince circle the boy predatorily, sword brandished before him, and grew suddenly uneasy. "Leave him, my prince, he's not worth it."
Joffrey's gaze didn't leave the butcher's boy, though. "You hit my Lady's sister. Do you know that?"
The uneasiness grew into alarm, and Cate started to slide from the horse. "They were just playing!"
"It's only a stick, my lord," Mycah was saying over her.
Joffrey looked positively murderous just then. "I'm your prince, not your lord. And you're not a knight, only a butcher's boy."
Suddenly, the edge of the sword was cutting into the boy's cheek. Cate's breath seemed to leave her body as red blood ran down Mycah's neck.
"STOP!" She screamed. She ran at him, shoved Joffrey to the side. He stumbled, fell over. Then Cate pushed the butcher's boy. "Go," she ordered, "Go!"
"You bitch!" Joffrey shouted, jumping to his feet and swinging his sword at her. Cate gasped, ducking aside. She saw before Joffrey did as Arya, her little face twisted in rage, raised her stick and brought it down on Joffrey's back.
"DON'T HURT MY SISTER!" Arya screamed.
And Cate didn't know if it was the wine, or the shock, but suddenly everything was a blur as Joffrey swung his sword yelling obscenities, then Arya was on her back with the prince shaking the sword in her face -
And Nymeria and Moondancer burst from the underbrush, snapping and snarling. Nymeria bit into Joffrey's sword hand, crushing it. Moondancer drove herself between the sisters and the prince, ears down and lips curled back.
Cate ran forward, sweeping Arya out of the way and grabbing at the sword Joffrey dropped. With both hands, she held it before him.
"Nymeria," she said in a low, calm voice, "let him go."
That was all it took for the direwolves to slink away, back into the woods. Cate looked down at Joffrey, snivelling on the ground.
"Please don't," he whimpered.
"I'm not going to do anything to you," she snapped. "You're going to march back to the inn and tell the King what you did."
"What I did?!" He squealed. "Your fucking wolves attacked me!"
"And you attacked my sister!" Cate snarled, shaking the sword. His mouth snapped shut. "That's what I thought. Now get moving."
He stood and glared at her from over his shoulder, and there was nothing but loathing, the vilest contempt for her in his eyes.
What do you think? Did Cate make a mistake, or did she do the right thing? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
Radio Free Death - I mean, that wasn't my intention … she's probably gonna come off as "special" since the story is from her POV. She's more just a Tomboy with a Girly Streak in a world where Proper Lady is the most acceptable, and she's old enough to understand that and too young to have any power to change it.
