Sansa had already guessed what Joffrey meant, but she was powerless to do anything about it.
She lacked the authority to resist him and lacked any subordinates who could intervene.
She couldn't even ask help from the masked knight because, as the prince's betrothed, she was surrounded by the king's men.
She found herself so weak and helpless in reality.
"My masked knight, you are so brave and yet so gallant, but why must you suffer such a fate?"
Gods above, who can tell me what to do?
Suddenly, she remembered a familiar face she had seen in another corner of the audience today, her sister, Arya.
At that time, after seeing Arya, she mocked her for speaking with a forked tongue, because Arya had once said that the fights between knights were boring, and she would rather practice swordplay herself than come to watch the matches.
However, now she thought that if it was the mischievous and adventurous Arya, she would definitely be able to find the masked knight before the start of tomorrow's match to warn him.
But now, she and Arya were still in a cold war phase.
They were both dissatisfied with each other, she believed Arya had killed her direwolf, while Arya felt that her sister had betrayed her by not speaking up for her and the prince, choosing neither side.
Although later, under the mediation of their father, Eddard Stark, the two girls had somewhat forgiven each other, they still hadn't taken the first step due to pride and years of mutual dislike.
So now, did she really have to swallow her pride and apologize to her sister? If she did, Arya would surely mock her mercilessly.
No! Even if Arya mocked her, what did it matter? What was losing a bit of pride compared to saving the life and dignity of the masked knight?
If she couldn't even endure this slight insult, how could she talk about saving the masked knight, let alone deserve the white rose he gave her today?
At this moment, Sansa suddenly felt noble. She felt like the brave noble lady in fairy tales, willing to face difficulties and dangers to save her knight.
So she immediately stood up, smoothed her skirt, and walked towards her father's direction, knowing that once the banquet ended and she was taken back to the Red Keep, she wouldn't have another chance.
Soon, she found Arya in a corner of the banquet hall, eating like a wild child, rudely grabbing a leg of lamb with her hands and gnawing on it. She still had Needle hanging from her waist.
Normally, Sansa would scold her for eating so uncouthly, not like a lady at all, but now she couldn't care less.
"Listen, my sister," she urgently grabbed Arya's greasy hand and pleaded.
"I need you to do me a favor, to pass on a message to someone I can't reach. Can you help me with this?"
"Does the 'future queen' need help from 'troublemaker Arya'?" Arya looked at Sansa with a sarcastic tone.
"Aren't you supposed to be with your prince charming now? If you need help, go find him.
After all, you, the 'future queen,' and him are a perfect match. I, this wild child, am only fit to be your servant."
"He's not a prince charming!" Sansa blushed.
She knew how much her sister hated Prince Joffrey, and their sisterly conflict had intensified because of him.
After hearing her sister's words, she had never disliked Joffrey as much as she did now; everything good about him in her mind had become so ugly.
"It's you who caused such a big fight between us sisters," she thought angrily and sadly.
Ignoring the grease on Arya's hands, she tightly held her hand.
"Stop talking about Joffrey. He's not a prince charming at all. He's petty, cruel, and so brutal.
I should have exposed all the terrible things he did. I'm sorry, sister. I was blinded by him and couldn't see his true colors."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she finished speaking, realizing that she would marry such a person in the future, which made her lament her fate.
"Really... really?" Arya looked at Sansa incredulously. She had never thought her sister would apologize to her for this matter, especially since her sister had lost her direwolf because of it.
She looked at Sansa with hopeful eyes. "Sister, do you really think Joffrey is a bad person?"
"Yes, yes," Sansa cried as she watched her sister's distrustful eyes.
"I see what kind of person Joffrey is now. It was my fault for not seeing it before. You're still blaming me, aren't you?"
"No!"
Arya hurriedly denied, wanting to wipe away Sansa's tears with her hand, but finding her hands greasy from the lamb, she hastily wiped them on her clothes and then wiped the corners of Sansa's eyes.
"I've forgiven you, sister," she said earnestly and anxiously, as if afraid that Sansa would think otherwise.
She quickly added, "Father said, 'We must defend each other, keep each other warm, share our strength, and hate those who truly hurt us.'
I hate the Hound, Prince Joffrey, and the queen. But I don't hate you."
"Thank you, sister," Sansa had stopped crying. Arya's words warmed her heart. She also said, "Lady's death was the responsibility of Joffrey and the queen. I won't blame you anymore."
The two sisters forgave each other, smiled at each other, and their relationship returned to what it was before—or even closer than before.
Suddenly, Arya seemed to think of something and said hurriedly.
"Sansa, since you've realized that Joffrey is such a bad person, why do you still want to marry him? Won't that condemn you to a life of misery? Let's find Father and ask him to stop this."
"No, let's not rush into this," Sansa refused.
She knew her father was busy now, not only was the Small Council making him unhappy, but he was also at a loss as to why Jon Arryn, his foster father, had died.
He hadn't slept well for several days now. Sansa felt that it was not the time to disturb him.
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