"D-Deal… I accept the deal."
Prepared, Joffrey placed one arm behind his back, and with the other hand, he held his sheathed sword. He was still naked above his waist, so he was slightly careful this time. But at the same time, Arya only had a simple, sleeveless nightgown on her.
Nothing to protect your ass today, girl.
"Ready when you are." Joffrey confidently said.
Fire in her eyes, Arya maintained her raised needle sword, recalling all the training she had done. Although she could still feel the mess that Joffrey had left between her thighs, she tried to ignore that viscous fluid.
"Haaa!" Arya made the first move.
Measured and precise. She didn't aimlessly go for him and instead looked for Joffrey's weak points. Joffrey was underestimating her, and that was her advantage, or so she thought.
Joffrey had mastered his footwork. Jaime Lannister was many things, but he wasn't a bad swordsman. Learned directly from the man, Joffrey had plenty more things to show to Arya. For now, he just made her slowly realize that it wasn't only her who had improved.
"Ugh!" Arya grunted when she failed to land any blow. Her sword ended up being too short, brushing past Joffrey each time. Her movement was like a dance, beautiful in Joffrey's eyes, but deadly in Arya's.
She's gotten better. Far more confident. Joffrey appreciated her.
Woosh!
Arya jumped forward to close in the gap since Joffrey led her around in circles. The area was cramped inside that large tent, yet she felt restless to reach him.
Clank!
For the first time, Joffrey moved his scabbard and blocked Arya's blade. He was far too strong, stopping her from moving her sword in any other way but back. "You've improved."
Arya bared her teeth and lunged at him again. Every time she failed to hit Joffrey she became more impatient and desperate. She growled like a wolf, tried to defeat him at all costs, and even became reckless. Her opponent had no blade, after all.
Pa!
"Did you forget the last time?" Joffrey slammed the flat side of his scabbard on her hips. It wasn't gentle either. "You're a grown woman, Arya Stark. Don't you want to be a knight? Is this how you'll become a knight?"
"Shut up!" Arya tried to ignore the pain. All she needed was one single thrust into his naked chest. "I'll kill you!"
"I know what a killer looks like. It's not you, Arya." Joffrey toyed with her, using his scabbard to deflect her and push her left and right. The smacks from his scabbard weren't soft either, leaving her red wherever it hit. "Just surrender to me as the realm has."
"Never!"
Clash!
Joffrey purposefully closed in the gap this time and locked her sword arm with his scabbard and body. "Are you sure? You know you can't win."
"It's not… over! Aaaah!"
Pa!
Joffrey smacked her on the face this time, but not hard enough to make her bleed. He didn't want to ruin that pretty face.
He let her dance around until her panting breath became audible. Until her sweat-drenched her hair into wet strands. Until her nightgown clung to her skin in that dampness, revealing every curve of her body.
Unlike the last time, she couldn't even get close enough to Joffrey. From start to finish, he had control of the duel.
It was worth training with Jaime.
"Let's end this." He muttered and started using his scabbard as a real sword.
Bam!
He smacked her on her sword arm, making it sore.
"You're not bad, Arya. But you have no idea how to use those skills."
Bam!
He hit her on that same arm again.
"You're shorter."
Bam!
"You aren't muscular like me."
Bam!
"Then why insist on a duel? It's a losing strategy." Joffrey tried to teach her something. "That sword isn't meant for dueling."
Clank!
Finally, Joffrey struck her sword hard enough that Arya lost grip. The Needle fell to the ground.
Joffrey wasted no time and closed in on Arya, pushing his scabbard's flat side against her neck. He shoved her back against a wooden cupboard that held his clothes and pressed himself against her front.
He looked down at her face. His scabbard remained roughly against her neck as he saw rage in her eyes. He said nothing and kept staring into her gray eyes. As far as he could remember, Arya had been the ferocious one. He could understand where her rage was coming from. She saw her father beheaded. She had to run away and struggle for food. All her brothers had died too.
Too bad, a lion can't be bothered with your sob story, she-wolf. I'm out on a hunt, and it is inevitable.
"Soon," Joffrey whispered. "You'll soon have your revenge. So will I."
Arya looked at him directly. She didn't want to, but her eyes were overcome with tears. It wasn't helplessness, or the loss just now. It was the frustration of the circumstances. Ever since she had left Winterfell, nothing good had happened.
"All this will be over soon. I'll be free, and you will be a proud Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. The North will have a new Lord."
"What? New Lord?! Joffrey, don't y—"
"It's Robb Stark's bastard son," Joffrey revealed before she could rage. "I received your mother's raven before we left the Red Keep. She asked me to legitimize the babe. I'll do so once I return."
Shocked and confused, Arya fell into deep thoughts. It wasn't unimaginable that Robb might have bastards. She knew about his visits to the brothel every once in a while. But she also felt empty, aimless, with nothing to strive for in her life.
"Just get it over with," she muttered weakly. "You won… I-I know what you want. Just be done with it."
What's the rush? Joffrey shook his head.
"Perhaps tomorrow. For now, you should rest." Joffrey freed her and stepped back. He could feel her gaze on him, so he walked to the side and picked up his discarded tunic. Then, he tore a strip from it and returned to Arya. Without asking her, he tied the strip of cloth on the right arm where he had hit her. "Use hot water on it in the morning, or it might swell."
Aye, look at me. Be confused by my kindness. Joffrey was a master of winning hearts by now. With Sansa, it was all about being a gentleman, a prince in shining armor. With Arya, it was half roughness and half kindness.
Arya remained standing in her place, however. She watched Joffrey return to the bed as if nothing had happened.
Soon, the candles gave out and only the dim light from the outside lanterns entered the tent.
For almost an hour she remained standing there.
"Go to sleep, girl. We got a siege to end tomorrow." Joffrey voiced from the bed in a sleepy tone.
Arya gulped and returned to the bed, stiffly laying down. This time, she didn't feel Joffrey shift closer to her. But sleeping was the last thing she had on her mind.
"Why are you doing all this?" She asked all of a sudden. "You went to the North to stop the Boltons. You killed the Freys. You killed the Tyrells. You…"
"That's what a king does." Joffrey softly answered her. Some of his words were genuine, some lies, and others sugar-coated facts. "Just because the last two kings did their best to ruin the realm doesn't mean I should follow in their footsteps. My father did enough to tarnish the Baratheon name—I'm merely cleaning up the mess. Peace… Peace across the Seven Kingdoms… That's my dream."
But was it a lie? His end goal was to secure his legacy, after all.
Arya said nothing in reply and asked something else. "What about Sansa? Is she just a playth—"
"I love Sansa," Joffrey replied without a second wasted. Perhaps he did love her in his own twisted way, he thought. He did feel the desire to protect her and their daughter. "I'll marry her, but not yet. Not until the realm is at peace. The illusion that the rebellious lords can marry their daughters to me must remain until I've won overwhelmingly."
That includes the mother of three bloody dragons.
"And there is also the 'Others'... Ah, ignore that. No one would understand, they'd call me mad. Go to sleep, Arya. I won't lay a hand on you tonight." Joffrey turned his back towards her, an arm's length away from her.
"Then why me? Why are you trying to… to… bed me?" Arya asked.
Joffrey vocally chuckled. "I say, why not? You're charming, strong, and desirable—I fancy you."
Arya gulped, and it was heard all around. She dared not ask anything more. Her thoughts were in enough turmoil already.
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