On that day, I did not wait for fate to play its hand. I knew that "Mycah," the poor butcher's boy, might meet a cruel end if left alone with Arya by the river. Thus, I made it my point to go myself. I found Arya by the banks of the Trident; she was holding a branch, half-heartedly striking at the tall grass in boredom.
"Arya! Leave the weeds be, and let's see if you've actually learned anything from those balance lessons," I called out, picking up a sturdy branch from the ground.
Arya grinned defiantly, and we began a "mischievous" duel. I moved with fluid grace, leaping over roots and pivoting around her, while she lunged at the air beside me. Our laughter filled the air, and Nymeria barked excitedly, circling us in a blur of gray fur. At that moment, I looked every bit the invincible warrior; my physical prowess evident in every bound, my features sharpened by the vitality of the fight and the sunlight reflecting off my face.
Suddenly, Joffrey and Sansa appeared atop their horses. Joffrey pulled to a halt, looking down at me with a contempt that had tenfold increased since the day in the Winterfell yard.
"Look at this... the great Hero of the North dueling a girl with sticks," Joffrey said with biting mockery. "Isn't this beneath us, Lady Sansa?"
I ignored him, continuing to parry a strike from Arya. Joffrey's face reddened with fury at being dismissed. He dismounted and drew his steel sword, Lion's Tooth. "I've had enough of your arrogance, Cassel. Raise your wood, and let us see if Northerners know anything other than dancing."
"Joffrey, stop!" Sansa cried out in terror. "It's a real sword and he only has a branch!"
I looked at Sansa with a calm, steady gaze, then turned to Joffrey. "My Prince, steel does not make a knight; the man who wields it does. If you want a lesson, I shall provide one."
Joffrey lunged with pure malice. He intended to kill me, but he was as slow as a tortoise compared to my training. I didn't let Arya intervene, nor did I allow Nymeria to attack. This was my fight.
With a single sidestep, I evaded his blade. With a lightning-fast strike of my branch across his wrist, I sent his sword clattering into the grass. Before he could even process what had happened, I thrust the end of the branch into his solar plexus, then swept his legs with a swift movement, sending him face-first into the mud of the riverbank.
He was a wretched sight; the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms sprawled in the filth, trembling with rage and fear. I placed my foot near his head and whispered: "Remember this taste, Joffrey... the taste of the defeat brought upon you by your own arrogance."
Joffrey wept more from the humiliation than the pain, screaming that he would tell his father. I looked at Sansa, who was watching in stunned silence, and said to her in a grave tone: "Lady Sansa, the truth is the only shield that will protect your family's honor today. Remember what you saw, and do not let fear change your tongue."
Inside the royal tent, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Cersei was screaming, demanding my head, while Joffrey played the victim, clutching his scratched arm. I stood before King Robert with a straight back and eyes that knew no fear. I bowed only as far as protocol demanded, remaining as steadfast as a Northern mountain.
"He attacked my son! He tried to kill him with a poisoned branch!" Cersei shrieked.
Robert, who looked utterly disgusted and bored, looked at me, then at his son. "Speak, Cassel. Did you strike the Crown Prince?"
"I defended myself and the daughter of Lord Ned, Your Grace," I replied, my voice deep and unwavering. "The Prince drew live steel against me while I was unarmed. Even so, he could not stand against a tree branch. Self-defense is no crime; the crime is leaving a Crown Prince to slaughter his subjects for no cause."
Robert turned toward Joffrey and roared with a fury that shook the tent: "Damn you, Joffrey! Defeated by a man with a stick? And you come crying to your mother? You have made an embarrassment of the Baratheon blood! If I were you, I would have killed myself from shame rather than complain!"
Cersei tried to incite him again: "Robert, this peasant insulted him before everyone! He must be punished!"
But Robert ignored her and turned to the girls. "Arya, Sansa... speak the truth, and woe to the one who lies."
Arya spoke with bold honesty about how Joffrey had started the harassment and drawn his sword. Then came Sansa's turn. Sansa looked at me; she remembered my words by the river, and she remembered Joffrey's disgrace.
"He... Alex spoke the truth, Your Grace," Sansa said, her voice trembling but clear. "Joffrey started it, and Alex did nothing but protect us without causing the Prince any lasting harm."
Cersei's face fell in shock. Robert laughed mockingly and looked at Ned: "It seems your men are teaching my sons some manners, Ned. Be gone, all of you! I don't want to hear another word of this nonsense!"
I walked out of the tent, feeling the gazes of the guards shift toward me. I had become the man who humbled the Lion and obtained the King's own admission of his son's weakness. History had truly changed; Nymeria stayed, Lady stayed, and I had become the nightmare that would haunt the dreams of Joffrey and Cersei.