Saber
Saber sat in the stitching room, bored out of her mind. She had been curious to see the role of woman in the Seven Kingdoms' society. Now she felt it would be rude to leave, and she and Shirou could not afford to be rude. She cursed her earlier curiosity. The princess of the realm was present, along with Lord Eddard Stark's two daughters and the older daughter's friends.
The younger daughter, Arya, seemed to have taken an instant liking to Saber. Sansa seemed to be conflicted. She had described Saber as "like a hero from a song, except a woman. And not ladylike at all."
Sansa was chatting with her friends about the crown prince, Joffrey.
Arya was staring at them, until suddenly she asked, "What are you talking about?" No one answered, save for with giggles and blushes. "Tell me."
"We were talking about the prince," Sansa said.
"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne Poole added in a proud tone. "He told her she was very beautiful."
"He's going to marry her," said little Beth Cassel, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."
"You shouldn't make up stories, Beth," Sansa said softly, stroking the younger girl's hair. "What do you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?"
"Jon says he looks like a girl," Arya replied.
Sansa sighed. "Poor Jon. He gets jealous because he's a bastard."
"He's our brother."
"What are you talking about, children?" Septa Mordane cut in.
"Our half-brother," Sansa corrected softly. "Arya and I were remarking on how pleased we were to have the princess with us today."
"Indeed. A great honor for us all. Arya, why aren't you at work? Let me see your stitches."
"Here," said Arya, holding up her work.
"Arya, Arya, Arya. This will not do. This will not do at all."
Arya pushed herself out of her chair and bolted for the door.
"Arya, come back here! Don't you take another step! Your lady mother will hear of this. In front of our royal princess and the king of England too! You'll shame us all.
Arya stopped, turned with tears in her eyes, and bowed stiffly. "By your leave, my ladies."
Saber stood and walked over to the girl. "It's quite all right. I was just thinking I would like to see this land's knights in training at work. Perhaps you would like to join me, young Arya?"
Arya nodded eagerly. "I would like that."
The septa sighed. "Very well, then, go on."
Saber led Arya down the stairs. They retrieved the girl's wolf pup.
"I know a good place to watch from," Arya said. She led the way to a covered bridge where her bastard brother Jon awaited, watching the training intently. The younger boys, Bran and Tommen, were swinging at each other with padded swords. The boys themselves were covered in padding.
"Would you like to watch from the yard?" Saber asked the two. "I shall take responsibility for bringing a bastard into the presence of the princes."
The two nodded eagerly. Jon led the way down to the yard. By the time they got there, the bout between the two young boys was over. The master-at-arms of Winterfell was asking Robb and Joffrey if they would go another round. Shirou walked over to Saber.
"Gladly," said Robb.
"This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik," Joffrey said with a bored look.
Eddard's ward and hostage, Theon Greyjoy, laughed at that. "You are children."
"Robb may be a child. I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."
"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb said. "Are you afraid?"
"Oh, terrified, you're so much older." The Lannister men laughed.
"What are you suggesting?" Ser Rodrik asked, tugging at his whiskers.
"Live steel."
"Done," Robb said. "You'll be sorry!"
"Live steel is too dangerous," said the master-at-arms. "I will permit tourney swords, with blunted edges."
The burned man stepped forward. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"
"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it."
"Are you training women here?"
"I am training knights. They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of an age."
The burned man, Clegane, looked to Robb. "How old are you, boy?"
"Fourteen."
"I killed a man at twelve. You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword. He looked to Shirou and Saber. "How old were you when you took up the sword?"
"Sixteen," Shirou replied.
"I was younger, but I did it so that others would not have to, not so I could make idle boasts to others. Shirou was much the same."
Clegan growled and stepped backwards.
"Let's go," Joffrey said.
He turned and left with his party. Saber shook her head at them.