[Chapter Size: 3900 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Winterfell, 298 AC.

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“Arya…?” Robb said to his sister, stepping into the middle of the courtyard.

“It’s all right, brother,” Arya spoke calmly without looking at him, as she moved to the front of the platform, while everyone, at that moment, had eyes only for the girl.

“So, Prince Joffrey of Westeros… you want to challenge me?” Arya asked openly.

Joffrey looked a little surprised at Arya speaking so openly.

“I thought your daughter had manners, Lady Stark. She acts worse than the common folk and is full of disrespect,” the queen commented directly to Catelyn, standing beside Sansa.

“My daughter is beyond the limits I can impose, my queen. I apologize for that,” Catelyn murmured, unsure whether to be angry at the queen or ashamed of Arya, while Sansa looked horrified by the way her sister acted and even spoke to her future fiancé.

“Arya was taught by the savages north of the Wall, my queen. She has no manners, no respect, and acts like she owns the place. But unfortunately, my father and brothers give her all this freedom. They are accomplices too, so I apologize on behalf of House Stark,” Sansa said, bowing in an apologetic tone.

“Well…” The queen smiled. “At least there’s someone sensible in this family,” she openly mocked as Catelyn shrank, no longer possessing the power she once held over the family and enduring various humiliations.

Cersei was distraught that the Arctican guards were defeating all their opponents, especially Jaime.

She couldn’t believe Jaime had lost to a woman, which made her feel deep contempt for her own brother in that moment, more than ever before.

He had shamed her and their family, letting these savages earn the admiration of everyone present while House Lannister appeared to be diminished.

Even so, her gaze softened at the scene unfolding before her. She believed her son’s plan could yield a Valyrian steel sword, something he deserved as the future king of Westeros. Still, there was contempt for the girl as she saw Arya simply acting openly, even if she was following the expected path.

“Yes, yes,” Prince Joffrey muttered, a little uncertain. “I heard you fight very well, and even stories that you can defeat grown men.”

He began to speak, but Arya could tell by his tone that he didn’t believe any of it. He had never seen her fight before, which was why there was confidence in his eyes. Everyone could see the prince was no warrior. He might be many things, but he didn’t know how to wield a sword properly. Just by the way he walked, it was clear he had no footwork.

“I’m surprised the crown prince wants to show his skill against a girl, when there are so many men to fight. Perhaps the prince just wants to pick someone at his level?” Arya asked, using her own gender — openly considered weaker — to justify why the crown prince was targeting her.

The provocation immediately drew laughter from those present, as she was embarrassing the prince in front of everyone.

“How dare you say such a thing?!” The crown prince turned red instantly, while people laughed at him.

“I’m only speaking the truth. After all, you’re the one who wants to challenge me… and I don’t recall the crown prince ever facing any other man,” she continued, provoking him directly.

“It’s true, the girl got you there, you fool. You think trying to act against a woman will make you more of a man?” the king said, this time mocking his own son.

“That’s not it! Tell her that’s not it!” Joffrey stood up in fury, while everyone laughed at him trying to play it off, but ended up being stared down by the prince, who glared at anyone who dared laugh at him, then pointed at Arya again.

“You will not speak to me like that, you savage!” he growled in fury, while everyone stood in shock.

Swords began to be unsheathed at that moment by the Arctican men, at the same time as the Lannisters from the king’s retinue also quickly drew theirs. Sandor Clegane also drew his sword beside Joffrey.

Even the guard escorting the queen drew his sword from up on the balcony, with the situation spinning out of control.

The Stark men also began to draw their weapons, and the situation was escalating rapidly, with the Stark men immediately siding with Arya — even Robb and many other young men.

“They dare point their swords at us?!” Cersei widened her eyes. She could have imagined it from those who followed Arya, as they’d already shown, but even men of Winterfell and the North were turning against them.

And something caught attention in the next moment, when they heard the sound of heavy steps. Everyone at the edge and those on the platform saw fifty Unsullied, who had been standing motionless in the courtyard, quickly preparing themselves, raising their shields and positioning their spears in a defensive formation, as shouts began to echo all around.

The prince was startled by it all, and Ned became worried, already getting up to ask everyone to stop before a massacre began in his own home, while the king immediately stood.

“Stop this madness!”

The situation was getting out of control before the two groups killed each other. Even Lord Stark was surprised to see that the men of Winterfell didn’t hesitate for a moment to side with Arya, turning their weapons against the Lannisters.

“What do you expect, my king? Your son seems unprepared. He insults others, and when confronted with the truth of his actions, he can’t take it. I’m not lying. Still, he dares call a princess of Arctica a savage,” Arya raised her voice, with a tone much firmer than before, looking at the king.

The king looked at her for a few seconds, then looked at his son. The entire courtyard immediately fell silent, thick with tension. Then Robert slapped his son on the head, making the boy nearly fall off the platform, stunned.

“You’re an idiot! What do you think you’re doing, you fool?! I told you to show respect to the girl and any other Stark!”

“What are you doing, Robert?!” Cersei shouted from the balcony, seeing her son struck and humiliated in front of everyone.

“Your son is a fool who’s drawing a dozen blades against us. He’ll learn to behave if he wants to be king of Westeros!” Robert spoke with such fury that many stepped back.

“Why are you hitting me?! She’s saying your heir is a coward! Why are you taking her side?!” Joffrey exclaimed, looking indignantly at his father.

“Wait… king of Westeros,” Arya spoke again, as Robert was about to say more to his son. Arya was looking at the furious Joffrey.

“I suppose I should imagine why you want to provoke a fight with me. That’s why, isn’t it?” Arya began to say, unsheathing Dark Sister as the Valyrian steel gleamed under the morning sunlight.

People watched the beauty of the blade, personally captivated by its appearance, until she finished the motion and fully revealed the sword.

“You want this sword, don’t you? Imagine a king of Westeros wielding a Valyrian steel blade. That hasn’t happened since Aegon the Unworthy handed Blackfyre to House Blackfyre. And also when that same sword fell into the hands of Brynden Rivers, the commander of the Night’s Watch, who was lost long ago.” Arya let her words resonate through the area.

“Yes!” Joffrey immediately raised his voice. “I want that sword! I want to fight you for it!” he exclaimed, even setting aside his fury to make room for the desire to possess that weapon, staring at it hypnotized and imagining himself glorious, with such a sword at his waist, ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

Arya saw this and curved her closed lips into a smile.

“Well… and I suppose you want to fight me for the sword as a wager, right?” She exposed Joffrey’s desire.

“Yes,” he admitted, while everyone turned their attention to the center of the area where Arya stood, surprised at how she had captured everyone’s focus that way in the middle of a situation where they had nearly started a bloody battle, with so many swords still drawn at one another.

Even Ned remained silent in the face of a situation he was no longer controlling. To be honest, there was worry in the eyes of many Northerners and the guests staying at Winterfell.

“But I wonder: if I’m offering a Valyrian steel sword, what does the crown prince have to offer me? After all, this same sword was wagered by MY KING…”

She made her last words crystal clear, causing everyone to raise their eyebrows — after all, she was talking about her own brother.

“…In a jousting tournament in Highgarden, where Renly Baratheon wagered a vast plot of land to build a port city for Arctica in the Stormlands, and he lost. Despite that, he still owes that land to Arctica, since he lost the bet. I wonder what you have to offer, crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms?” Arya asked again, not missing the chance to emphasize that Renly still owed a plot worth millions of gold coins to the kingdom of Arctica.

Joffrey looked lost.

“I’m sure my grandfather can pay any amount,” he tried a solution, hoping to begin the final fight already. He was giving in to anger and wanted to fight Arya after being humiliated, still confident that he could win — after all, she was just a pretty girl.

“You’re placing solutions on others. I want to hear directly from someone here who actually owns something,” Arya made it very clear.

“How about… I’ll give you Harrenhal.”

Suddenly, the king’s voice rang out, offering a solution. He was enjoying seeing that the girl was really wagering the sword and holding firm, so he would reward her accordingly if she won.

“Harrenhal?” Ned murmured, stunned.

There was no established house on those lands — Harrenhal is a fief that historically belongs to the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and he can grant it to whomever he pleases. Unlike traditional hereditary fiefs.

But the Whent family had been occupying the place since Maekar I granted them possession. However, nothing was official, and King Robert had already punished them severely for siding with Rhaegar, and it seemed that wasn’t enough — he could remove them at any moment.

“Wait… that…” Catelyn was immediately shocked.

It was her mother’s family, the Whents, since her mother had been of House Whent before marrying Hoster Tully, which made her the mother of Catelyn, Lysa, and Edmure Tully.

“That seems rather fair…” Arya admitted, but shook her head a moment later.

“But I was thinking of something else, if I may, King Robert.”

She spoke firmly, as Robert narrowed his eyes.

“Speak. What are you thinking, then?” he exclaimed.

“How about something that was taken from the North a long time ago?” Arya began.

“What do you mean, Arya?” Ned narrowed his eyes, not knowing what she was referring to.

“I’m talking about the lands that belong to the Night’s Watch. Lands that once belonged to the North and were its great farmland, until the Good Queen intervened and simply took them away, turning them into a vast stretch of useless land, which even pushed the Watch into the critical state it’s in today, with no one to farm them. What I want is for the lands of the Gift to be returned to the hands of the North.” Arya made that very clear to everyone there, raising her voice.

Jon had once given an ideal model to the North, years ago, while Arya had shown interest and they’d had a discussion, with him teaching her. About what the North could be, if reorganized effectively. The problem was that the kingdom had few people — it wasn’t heavily populated — but that could be reversed with opportunities, bringing people from the South.

There were areas like the Gift itself, the isolated lands of Skagos, Sea Dragon Point, Moat Cailin, and the western region of the North that had no houses occupying them.

And if that became possible, the North could become the most powerful of all the Seven Kingdoms. After all, it was so vast it occupied nearly half of Westeros’ entire territory.

But due to food scarcity, harsh climate, lack of mining, logistical issues with roads and navigation, the kingdom remained in its current state of stagnation. If Jon had the power to rule the North entirely, he had said he would change many things — and Arya never forgot that conversation.

She herself had been implementing several changes along with her father to slowly improve things. But they were small changes, and the results would only show after years — like changing how farms managed agriculture, among other things.

Now, she could do something far beyond her reach as the second daughter of House Stark.

She had found an opportunity that, from what she had seen of the king, she might actually achieve. If the Gift were reoccupied and managed by a Northern lord — perhaps one of her brothers, like Bran or Rickon, in the future — it would bring radical changes to the entire realm in the generations to come.

People would see a new opportunity: land to farm, a dignified life, and accessible food. After all, food was such a costly asset in the North that everyone sought opportunity only in the South, and the North remained at the mercy of southern prices — especially when not even the crown of Westeros allowed them to buy the cheaper food Arctic was selling in Braavos.

So, perhaps, she had finally found the solution right there in Winterfell, in that very moment.

As soon as Arya spoke those words, a murmur rose from the crowd, which immediately began discussing her statements.

Ned couldn’t help but widen his eyes, stunned, when he realized that what Arya had chosen — after everything — was the Gift.

“A land in the North is all she asks for?” Cersei wanted to laugh at that, openly mocking, seeming not to grasp what was truly at stake.

At the same time, Catelyn and Sansa also didn’t seem to fully understand what that could mean, though Catelyn wasn’t quite so naïve. Still, she thought it was wrong for her daughter to demand such things, when she could have a land of her own in the South — although she also didn’t want her mother’s family to be forced out of Harrenhal.

While people were still whispering, someone understood perfectly well what it all meant. Tyrion stood frozen upon hearing it, his gaze falling to his sister, who laughed on the balcony.

“Does she have no idea how Father will want to kill her after hearing about this? For leading his son into betting against her sword…” he murmured, almost in disbelief, realizing that whatever they had planned was backfiring.

He knew well how mad his father would be upon seeing this. If the Arcticans, or even the North, were to have those lands again… Though Arya had chosen them for the North and not Arctic, it was still confusing to Tyrion how they would handle that.

Unlike Cersei, Tyrion knew the history of the North very well, and how the removal of the Gift from Northern hands had forced the North to depend on food bought from the South, while the Gift itself decayed under the Night’s Watch’s administration.

In the end, even those lands were better managed by the North, since they used to provide a large number of people willing to join the Watch in exchange for shelter and food.

Both had lost much because of it. Now, Tyrion needed to see how the king would respond — but knowing him, and the way he kept saying he liked the girl, the answer was fairly predictable.

“Very well,” the king exclaimed. “I will give the Gift back to the North… if you win a fight with my son.”

“Robert, are you sure about this?” Ned asked. After all, he needed to be certain Robert truly agreed.

“Of course I am! If your daughter wants something equal to the sword, then I’ll give her what she wants. Though I think it’s a waste, since she wants to stay in the North…” he said.

Having Ned’s daughter in the South, holding a noble house, would have been interesting to him too. Having a Stark nearby — especially someone who reminded him so much of Lyanna…

“Very well, then so be it. I await you to come fight me, prince of Westeros,” Arya said, pointing the Valyrian sword at Joffrey, which stirred even more murmurs from the crowd.

“Now put those swords away!” Robert roared at the men, and then swords began to be returned to their scabbards, while someone signaled for the soldiers to return to their normal positions — all obeying flawlessly.

“Very well, then!” Joffrey roared at that moment, as he descended from the platform.

“Aren’t you going to prepare yourself, princess?” Ser Rodrik asked as he saw her still standing with the sword raised. She was still wearing a dress.

“I have leather beneath the dress, but I won’t need to remove it,” she said openly, which made Joffrey pause, while a royal guard was preparing to put a leather armor on him.

He looked at her instantly, filled with rage.

“You dare underestimate me…?” he murmured angrily, though he held back from calling her a savage again.

“I’m only telling the truth, Prince Joffrey.” She replied.

“Very well, then!” Joffrey roared, ignoring the royal guard. He walked up to his uncle, who was standing ready, and pointed to his weapon.

“Give me the sword!” he said with such anger that he didn’t care how demanding he sounded.

It was humiliating for Jaime as well. It was already enough to be there, before everyone, having lost to a woman. And now, the prince was demanding his sword as if he were a servant, keeping it just to hand it over when needed.

Even Tyrion, from a distance, felt pity for his brother. Jaime had always cared deeply about what people said about him — and now he was being treated like this by everyone. Perhaps he had never been so humiliated.

In the end, he gave in, teeth clenched, pulling the sword free as if losing a part of himself right there. After all, a man like him couldn’t be without a weapon — especially not his own sword.

Joffrey took it precisely because it was lighter than usual, being made of Eldenmetal. For someone lacking strength, with his thin arms, it was ideal.

He returned to the center of the courtyard and stared seriously at Arya, holding the sword with both hands, aiming it at her, while Ser Rodrik assessed the situation and looked to the king, who simply nodded, authorizing the match.

Joffrey looked at the sword and noticed a few names engraved on it — and Arya noticed.

“These are the names of everyone who used it. A detail MY KING added before giving it to me, obviously ending with my own name,” she made clear, not to Joffrey, but openly, taking pride in it.

Joffrey only clenched his teeth and prepared in silence — all he saw in the next moment was her on the ground and him claiming the sword.

“Is everyone ready?” Ser Rodrik asked.

“Yes,” Arya replied, while her father looked deeply worried.

They were fighting with real swords, and no one had said a word about that. Robert, on the other hand, seemed thrilled — he genuinely wanted to see if the rumors about the girl were true. He wanted to see her prove it, while many from the South believed Joffrey would win in the end, though they were also concerned about the girl, as the swords were sharp, and yet no one spoke out against it.

“It’s strange… he’s fighting with our own sword,” Jill commented.

“You just fought with the same sword the spoiled prince is using now, when you fought his uncle,” Bari teased Jill.

“Begin!” Ser Rodrik gave the signal.

Arya remained calm, while Joffrey, more impatient, quickly charged, swinging a strike directly at her. With no solid stance, he looked more like a squire than anything else.

Arya handled it with ease: she simply deflected the sword, tossing it to the side, while Joffrey lost his balance.

He couldn’t even dodge, and the girl — using only one hand to deflect the blow with Dark Sister — used the other, with a closed fist, and struck his face, sending him falling backward as everyone gasped in a hush, stunned to see Arya simply punch the crown prince in a single move.

And as Joffrey fell backward, he let out a cry of surprise.

“What?!” the king exclaimed, stunned, while the ladies were shocked on the balcony.

The prince fell, rolling a few inches before getting up, touching his nose and feeling dizzy. She hadn’t broken it, but it certainly burned. As he tried to recover, he looked at Arya with even more fury.

“You dare hit me?!” he shouted hysterically and charged at Arya again, while she looked at him like a fool.

He was completely unbalanced, letting his rage take over his reasoning to fight for him.

And so he launched his strikes, while Arya quickly defended herself, stepping back a few paces. Joffrey looked like a wild, uncontrollable beast.

Even so, Joffrey was no stronger than Arya. Despite her frame being much more delicate and slim than his, she managed to parry all his attacks and swiftly landed a cut through an opening, making the prince immediately stumble backward with a cry of pain, clutching his face, feeling the blood run down.

He looked at Arya as if he were seeing a ghost, unable to believe the blood on his hand, while all the men around him stared, stunned and horrified. He had a cut on his cheek — small, but clear — with blood dripping down.

Sansa looked terrified, but the queen was even more desperate.

“She’s trying to kill my son!” she screamed for all to hear.

“Be silent, woman! Your son chose to fight with real swords. Did you expect him to walk away without a scratch? Instead of anger, you should feel ashamed. Our son is losing… to a girl!” Robert roared in disgust and shame.

It was just a cut on the face, but what displeased him most was seeing his son openly being beaten in front of everyone.

His gaze turned to his son.

“Stop this! You’ve already been humiliated enough. You’ve already lost,” he said in disgust, while Joffrey looked lost, staring at Arya again as the fury within him grew even more, letting that anger take over every action.

He quickly charged with the clear intent to kill Arya, while everyone cried out as they saw the prince run at her.

Arya calmly prepared herself, her dress swaying to the side, before simply colliding with Joffrey’s attack, pushing him aside and knocking him off balance, then moving her sword hand and slashing with the cold magical steel at his arm, cutting his forearm — not very deep — while the prince immediately dropped the sword, screaming in pain and falling to the ground.

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