6 Arise

Joe was a big watcher of television in his past life.

After a long shift in the food truck, all you wanted to do was just get home and blob out on the sofa.

He'd seen a lot of content, from shows about home decoration, to late-night crime investigations (which would have freaked Joe out and made him patrol his apartment, checking that all the windows and locks were secure).

This also included documentaries; one day, a particular documentary resonated with Joe more than usual.

It was a story about a man named Miyamoto Musashi, a samurai who dedicated his life to mastering his martial craft.

He was a prudent bastard that would do whatever it took to win. The writings he left behind were simple descriptions of fighting stances, fundamentals, and ideology.

But he only told you the absolute basics, stressing the fact that learning to fight is, overall, a personal journey. You find what works for you. To rise via mimicry is a far cry from achieving symmetry akin to martial perfection.

Yet it wasn't all this stuff that made Joe like Miyamoto Musashi. He just liked how the guy would always make the first move, taking his opponent by surprise.

So when Theon Greyjoy said those words that started the fight, you best believe that Joe pounced on Ser Jaime quick as a cougar.

'Fast.' Ser Jaime thought, 'He closed the distance in an instant.'

It was a flurry of swords, a whirlwind of blurred steel. It was like a dust cloud of death surrounded the two as they parried and struck with a meticulous theater of swordplay.

And a clamor of metal rang, *TANG!* *TANG!* *TANG!*

Robb, Jon and Bran dared not blink in fear of missing out on any of the awesomeness before them.

"Holy shit!" Robb gasped.

Jon agreed, "I've never seen anything like this."

Bran smirked like he had an inside joke, "Joe's been toying with us these past years."

Standing with them in Team Joe's corner were Sensei, Jojen, and Meera.

"Hmph." Sensei crossed his arms, "This is just the 'feeling out' period. They're both probing one another's swordplay for information."

"You're also a good swordsman, Ser Sensei?" Meera asked. She was so nervous for Joe that it sounded like she could break out in tears at any moment.

Sensei's face remained unimpressed, "Nope," he said, practically yawning, "I've just seen what that little shit can do when he gets serious."

"Ohhh," The whole group said in wonder. Even Theon Greyjoy got in on the action. Sensei's words had made their imagination about Joe's skills go beyond bonkers.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

In came Lord Stark. Arya had a tight grip on Lord Stark's sleeves and was tugging him along. King Robert closely behind.

Robb felt guilty. He fronted up to Lord Stark, "I'm sorry, father. I tried to stop it. But they both insisted on the duel having a legal pretext."

King Robert scoffed, "Pfft, a legal pretext, bollocks!"

King Robert couldn't help but observe Joe fight with admiration, "I bet he just wanted to fight the kingslayer. That boy of yours has some balls, Ned!"

Lord Stark ignored King Robert. He was set on ending this madness in his castle. "Why is it they are having this duel, exactly?"

Everyone shrugged.

Arya just wanted Joe to win. Robb had no idea. Jon felt sick to his stomach watching his brother in such an intense engagement (twinning). Bran gazed on with a face that looked constipated. Theon didn't know why the duel was happening but was easily the most emotionally invested in the spectacle.

Sensei, on the other hand, stood awkwardly.

"Heh," Sensei said with a smirk, "Haven't a fookin clue."

Causing Bran to snicker.

***

Earlier this morning~

Bran leaned on a wooden pole by the stables. His direwolf Summer was at his side, still small enough to have that adorable puppy cuteness going on. He sat by Bran, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, grinning with his fangs.

Lord Stark was just about to leave for the hunt, but he spied his son Bran, and the two shared a nod of acknowledgement.

Bran's smile said, 'Have fun out there.'

Lord Stark's replied with a 'Thanks. Love you, son, see you later.'

With Lord Stark and a good portion of the castle's guests out of the way, Bran started doing some morning climbing. What better opportunity than this?

This would be the last time Bran would climb the broken tower for a long while. He was going to ride south alongside his father and his sisters to live in King's Landing while Lord Stark served as the hand of the king.

The broken tower was once the tallest watchtower in Winterfell. It caught on fire some century ago, its stones ashy black. Bran would enjoy feeding the crows from atop that broken tower.

It was easy to get there. Bran had the climbing route all figured out. He could do it in blindfolded if he had to. Every nook and cranny, each foothold and ledge~

Summer watched from the ground, impatient with anxiety and feeling like he was being left out. 'If only I could climb like that too!' the direwolf pup was surely thinking.

Bran knew every inch of Winterfell's exterior.

All he had to do was climb the First Keep, which is attached to the Broken Tower. From then on, it's a straightforward ascent to crow-feeding fun.

But fate destined this to be a climb unlike any other.

For on his way to the top of that broken tower, the young Bran heard some interesting noises, as a man and a woman were panting and gasping and hooting.

Bran had heard such hullabaloo before when he was sneaking around the castle at night and passed by Lord Stark and Lady Catelyns chambers.

What or who could be making such similar noises? Bran had to investigate. For the purpose of.., *ahem*.., SCIENCE!

He climbed that tower, just like he had done countless times before. Anyone watching this kid would think he's crazy. Falling from this altitude would spell trouble.

But Bran never fell. He stuck to the walls like Spiderman. Not once had there been an accident. And if there was, he kept it under wraps, tending to his wounds in secret.

He got closer to the window, trusting the vines on the walls to hold his weight. Distinct moaning could be heard now. Bran peeked around the corner. And what should he see?

'The kingslayer!' Bran thought, watching Ser Jaime pound the cheeks of some woman with rabid fervor.

Ser Jaime pulled the woman back, kissing her neck. Her face now shown to Bran.

'And that.. Is the queen?!'

Bran was taken aback by the spectacle. His mind went blank. He just stood at that window ledge, watching brother and sister fuck each other.

Perhaps he should have gotten out of there when he had the chance. Queen Cersei saw Bran out of her peripheral.

"Uh! Uh!" she moaned before gasping at the realisation of the peeping tom, "Stop. Stop!"

'Oh yeah, she's thinking 'stop, it's too good!' Ser Jaime thought to himself. But he quickly realized, much to his blue-balled sadness.

Ser Jaime quickly dismounted, pulling up his trousers and running to the window, grabbing Bran before he could escape.

"Are you completely mad?" questioned Ser Jaime. Deep down, he was impressed with Bran's ability to get up here.

"He saw us!" cried Queen Cersei, prompting a fear reaction in Bran. The young boy tried escaping, but Ser Jaime wouldn't allow it.

"It's all right. It's all right." Ser Jaime tried to assure.

"He saw us!" Queen Cersei said again, this time firmer and implying what must be done.

"I heard you the first time."

Ser Jaime knew what he had to do. He peeped out the window to see a long way down. Summer was whimpering and pacing back and forth, suffering from anxiety overload.

Bran wasn't an idiot. He could tell what Ser Jaime was pondering. He looked at the famous knight with fearful eyes. A sick feeling in his stomach. The kind of bile in your center that builds up when your illusion of safety is taken away.

"Quite the little climber, aren't you?"

Bran couldn't even find the words to reply. His little heart was beating so fast that he could barely hear anything. His quick breaths nearly made him feel dizzy.

"How old are you, boy?"

"10." Bran quickly said. As a little Stark of Winterfell, he'd always be asked this type of question from lords and ladies pretending to care. His automatic response system enabled his mouth to speak.

The answer took the wind out of Ser Jaime's spirit, "10." He said, defeated, as if there was an answer that could have changed the outcome.

He let go of Bran and gazed back at the queen. His lips were in a smile, but his eyes portrayed a self-loathing. Queen Cersei just waited for the deed to be done.

But looking at the love of his life could fill Ser Jaime with the strength to do even the darkest of deeds, "The things I do for love."

With those words, a strong hand pushed at Bran's chest, causing the boy to fall out the window.

"Waaaaah!"

Down.

Down. Down. Down.

Down to the hard, hard ground.

A deathly descent.

Or so it should have been~

*PFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*

Bran had shut his eyes as tightly as he could. His brain was quick to process the folly of his fall. The image of an egg being thrown onto a rock was conjured in his mind. His bits n' bobs scattering with a splat.

But instead of feeling a catastrophic impact, his back landed on something soft, a surface that concaved along with the tension like a mattress made of grass.

*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*

"Give it up for Ser Jaime, ladies and gentlemen!"

"..?" A voice from below stopped Ser Jaime in his tracks. And that mocking slow clap..

When Ser Jaime popped his head out the window and looked down below, it all started making sense.

The first thing he saw was Bran, alive and well, laid out like a starfish in the midst of a pile of hay.

This pile of hay was wheeled here by a wagon. A wagon with plenty of surface area and packed with multiple layers of hay stacks.

Next to this wagon? A black Shadowcat whose only other discernible color was the white of its teeth and the red of its gums.

A gruff-looking hunter with an arrow notched in his Weirwood bow, ready to fire.

And a bastard boy with amber eyes.

"There he is!" Joe called out, "The Kingslayer! Or should we call you the boy tosser?"

"He's a tosser alright," Sensei added, with a menacing glare up at Ser Jaime. The kind of glare made Ser Jaime's instincts tell him that Sensei could easily shoot him from there if he wanted to.

"Oh ho! Very zinging of you, Sensei."

*Woof!*

Summer barked with relief as Bran wiggled his way out of the pile of hay. Void licked his paws with disinterest.

Ser Jaime processed all of these observations and stood there breathlessly, the reptilian part of his brain unable to succeed in fight or flight. Instead, it chose a third option; freeze.

"Don't be so shy!" Joe gibed, "And do bring the queen to the window, will you? Don't try to pretend she's not there."

Ser Jaime glanced back, beckoning his love to come over. Queen Cersei did just that, having overheard the conversation.

"There she is! What I tell ya, Sensei? What I tell ya?"

Sensei rolled his eyes, "Yeah yeah, whatever cunt.."

"Haha! I had bet Sensei that those moans were from none other than the queen. Turns out I was right."

Joe could see that his jabs weren't getting anywhere. The Queen and Ser Jaime were so caught out that none of them knew what to say.

"I'm coming up," Joe told them seriously, "Do me a favor and don't push me. I know that might be difficult, given your recent track record.."

Joe then scaled the broken tower. He climbed with the proficiency of a tree cat. Bran had taught Joe to climb well. His teachings and Joe's physical abilities resulted in a swift climb up the tower.

"There we are!" Joe said, pulling himself up over the window ledge and into the broken tower, "Now, what do we have here?"

Queen Cersei stood like a church girl, having been outed for her dirtybehaviourr. Ser Jaime stood tall and bracing, as if trying to act strong in front of his woman.

"Brother and sister, fucking where they thought no one would find them. A knight, sworn to protect the weak and innocent, yeeting a boy out a window. Tell me, do you want to start a fucking war?"

Ser Jaime was about to speak, but Queen Cersei roared first.

"I am the queen! Whom do you think they will believe if this is brought to court?"

Joe chuckled, "Dear Cersei, we both know you can do better than that. You two aren't exactly known to have a normal sibling relationship throughout the realm. What would King Robert think when multiple witnesses come at him with a claim that confirms such whispers? What will Lord Stark do when his own *son* describes how he almost died after he saw the kingslayer BALLS DEEP inside the Queen?"

Ser Jaime had an instant bodily reaction. His blood rose, preparing him for violence.

Yes, that's it… Violence can solve this problem. Ser Jaime will just kill everyone involved and deny everything. All starting with this bastard in front of him…

"At ease, Jaime." Joe said, reading the kingslayer's intentions, "You'll get your opportunity. I have a proposition for you. Given your current circumstances, you aren't in a position to refuse."

Queen Cersei didn't like where this was going. "What proposition?" she asked meekly and with shrouded fear.

"Simple. I can make this problem alllll go away. Bran and Sensei would swear to silence if I asked them. And I care not for using this information unless provoked otherwise."

The Lannister twins were puzzled after hearing this. "So what would you have us do?" asked Ser Jaime.

"I'll give you an opportunity. Fight me, Ser Jaime. If you win, I'll be dead, and you can go about assassinating Bran and Sensei if you don't believe in their pledge."

"?!?!" Conflicting emotions tossed and turned in Ser Jaime's stomach. This green boy who hasn't seen a lick of war was *giving* him the option to solve this with violence?

"Done." Ser Jaime responded, adamant and fierce, "And if you win?"

"When I win," Joe corrected, a devilish grin sending chills through Cersei and Jaime,

"Here's what I'll have you do~"

***

Back to the present.

Joe and Ser Jaime disengaged after their opening flurry, eying their opponent.

"You move well." The Kingslayer began, condescending and patronizing, "Impeccable technique."

Ser Jaime stood in his kingsguard armor, shiny and gold.

It boasted a sturdy-looking breastplate which also offered good protection for his shoulders. The greaves at his feat clanked mechanically with each step he took. His forearms were covered with golden bracers. The helmet was legion-like. Joe thought it looked like headgear the Romans would wear if they existed up till the medieval period.

It wasn't your typical, fully-kitted outfit that most knights would adorn themselves. Much of Ser Jaime's body was exposed to danger if only an opponent were skilled enough. Yet how long had it been since that happened?

Robb snickered, "He moves well, the kingslayer says."

Jon could also see the humor in it, "Pfft. Impeccable technique." he parroted.

Ser Jaime didn't like the sound of that one bit. The tone of the Stark boys, that hint of ridicule that Ser Jaime was used to dishing out but not receiving. How could they be so confident? Had Jaime's reputation failed to seep its way to the north?

Joe didn't reply. He simply smiled at Ser Jaime and prowled with playful footsteps.

Lord Stark had seen enough, "I'm putting an end to this-"

A familial hand clenched at Ned's shoulder, "Halt, Lord Stark. Your king commands it."

"But your grace, this-"

"Is a duel between men! It would be disgraceful to the seven if we were to break this up."

"We don't worship the seven in the north, your grace."

And besides, that's not really how the faith of the seven and duels work…

"It does while I'm here!" King Robert asserted, "Someone fetch us some wine and a chair to sit on! Quickly now!"

Everything had escalated absurdly fast.

Ser Jaime held back his disgust toward his king, 'Of course. Sit and watch. It's all just a big game to you, isn't it?'

But now wasn't the time to let his mind wander to anything other than the opponent in front of him.

Just from that initial engagement, Ser Jaime could feel how Joe's technique was leagues above the average combatant.

*TANG!* *TANG!* *TANG!*

A combination of strikes. As soon as one swing of the sword was finished, another was already coming from a different angle. It offered Ser Jaime not a moment of respite. All he could do was react to the onslaught.

'It's like he's made of water. Each movement flows into the next like endless drops of rain.'

"Hyah!"

The moment was right. A lazy slip-up in Joe's attack.

Or so Ser Jaime thought~

Ser Jaime parried a simple strike like he had done countless times before to countless other men. He shifted Joe's bastard sword away, opening the youth to a counter riposte.

*ZING!*

But before Jaime could even begin the motion, a searing warmth fizzed at his cheek. His helmet flew through the air after an upward slash from Joe somehow sliced at his face.

"Gods!" the crowd gasped.

It didn't feel real to Jaime at first. Not until he felt his cheek and saw the blood on his fingers did he believe it.

"Ooh," Joe mocked, resting his bastard sword on his shoulder, "That was a close one. The ladies of the realm will weep when they hear the handsome Jaime Lannister's face has been blemished."

King Robert was mid-way through sipping some wine when he heard this, "Pfffhahaha!" he laughed, spitting some of his wine out. Some of it even went into his nose and caused a burning pain.

If Ser Jaime needed a wake-up call, this was surely it. He stiffened his brow, regarding Joe with the utmost seriousness of a warrior.

"Haha," Joe chuckled, "Now that I get a good look, it kind of suits you!"

In Joe came, another barrage of strikes. Up, down, left, right, and directions Ser Jaime didn't even know were possible.

*TANG!* *TANG!* *TANG!* *TANG!*

As Ser Jaime desperately defended, the vibration created by their collision of blades began drumming at his bones.

'Each strike is so resolute.'

And it never seemed to end. Just when Ser Jaime thought he survived the storm of combinations, they would keep going, going, and going.

Any attempt by Ser Jaime to break out of the cycle, Joe moved accordingly.

*FFFFFFF*

Ser Jaime's sword cuts at the air. But it cut just that; air. The tip of his blade was barely an inch away from Joe's nose.

All the while, Joe kept smiling.

Ser Jaime couldn't believe it. Joe's eyes were following his sword as it went through the motions. 'Impossible! He's watching my blade!'

"Huff… Huff… Huff…"

Arya watched with fascination, "The kingslayer's getting tired already?"

Each question so far had been directed at Sensei, so he answered, "No. He needs to find calm. The mind can wear you out just as quick as any labor, if not quicker."

King Robert agreed. He was now sitting on a chair that was brought out for him, sipping his wine and eating grapes from a vine held out by a servant, "It's hard to save your breath when you're shitting yourself."

"So the kingslayer's scared?" Robb mused.

"Wouldn't you be? He's constantly being pressured, and Joe's distance management has him swinging at air."

"Distance management?" Jon said queerly.

"Ah," Sensei realized how weird that sounded, "Don't look at me. It's what the lad called it. Watch, look at his feet. They tell all the story you need to know."

The Stark children did just that, fixing their eyes on Joe and Jaime's feet. Lord Stark and King Robert did the same, and they all could understand Sensei's words.

It was like a dance, with Joe as the lead. The way their feet moved made it seem like everything happened according to Joe's will. If he wanted Jaime to step forward and follow, his feet did so. This direction, that direction- it didn't matter. Joe could get to Jaime whenever he wanted, but the same could not be said in reverse.

The whole spectacle had a childlike quality to it. It was like watching a brood of kittens play fight with one another; the seriousness was nonexistent. One moment, Joe's feet are brazen with a 'catch me if you can!'; the next, they pounce with a 'ready or not, here I come!'

It would all look like one big game if it weren't for the deadly display happening above. The colliding of razor-sharp edges and the repugnant stench of death drawing near.

'This is ridiculous,' Ser Jaime thought in a moment of reprise, 'He reacts to every feint. Everything I do is met with resistance.'

And yet, Ser Jaime could sense hesitancy in Joe's blade. Underneath the calm demeanor of that smile, a reluctance to commit tried to hide.

'What is he waiting for?' Ser Jaime wondered. Had he overestimated Joe's resolve? Joe wouldn't be the first boy who grew up in a castle with talent for the sword, but not the stomach for the blood it brought.

'Damn it. Perhaps I've given him too much respect!'

Ser Jaime felt jolted, lke a professional hot dog eater who gets his second wind, a bounce in his feet, a burst of action.

He sprung forward and parried the strike that came his way. It was all instinct. Feeling the direction of Joe's blade now misguided, Ser Jaime twirled his body round in a spinning attack.

It was his textbook move, the trump card Ser Jaime would use in all dire situations. But instead of his spinning counter finishing with Joe's head cut off, Jaime's head was the one that took punishment.

*DOOF!*

Ser Jaime fell to the ground, throbbing pain at his temple, his vision blurry, and a sickening nausea settling in.

"I was wondering when you were going to bust that out." Joe said to the recovering Jaime, "I had practiced that move with this exact moment in mind."

"Ugh.." Ser Jaime groaned, picking up his sword and gathering himself. He still had no idea what had happened.

"Your spin move. I was quite scared of it, to be honest. I didn't know how that was going to go down. Turns out I was worried for nothing."

Theon Greyjoy was jumping in his spot. He was that damn hyped, "Holy fook!"

Arya and Bran, with their jaws, dropped, "Woah!"

Jon was almost numb with a serene calm of pure objective observation. His mind was centered on the moment, "I feel like I'm watching one of the songs."

King Robert was laughing so thunderously that bits of grape were flying out of his mouth, "Bahahahaha! How pitiful, the mighty kingslayer!"

The whole crowd had to take a moment to process it at first.

Ser Jaime parried and went for his spin attack. But at that same time, Joe twirled with a spin of his own, quicker than the Kingslayer.

By the time Ser Jaime was hacking away at the space he had thought Joe was in, the hilt of Joe's sword had been back fisted to the side of his head.

So hard that everyone could hear that blunted sound of skull against metal.

Ser Jaime swallowed hard as his vision and composure returned to him.

"Don't look at me like that, Ser Jaime. Did you think I would end my coming out party that quickly?"

Joe pointed his sword at him with an almost feminine poise. An elegant provocation

"We're only getting started!"

***

The rest of the hunting party had returned. Sandor Clegane, Tyrion, and Prince Joffrey were perplexed when they arrived at the scene.

It continued for over an hour: the swell, the sweat, and the sparks of steel against steel.

Through it all, none dared look away. Far be it from them to miss out on witnessing history.

"Huff… Huff…"

Ser Jaime's body felt heavy with fatigue, his chest clogged with mucus from places unknown. His face was battered and beaten, with knees that wobbled with each attempt to get back up.

Robb stated the obvious, "He's spent. Even Bran could avoid his blade now."

"Mmm." Replied Sensei with a pleasant hum. His mind wandered back to his time spent with Joe during those years in the Wolfswood.

.

..

… [It was a time of many questions for the aspiring Joe.

"What if I had nothing to hunt with," the ten year old would ask, "How do I eat then?"

"What do you think the first men did when they had nothing to hunt with?" Sensei replied.

"I don't know. Their bare hands? Rocks?"

"Think about it, you little shit. All prey have better hearing, better sight, and better smell. They can run faster and jump higher. What do men have?"

"Their minds?"

"Yes. But there's something else."

"Opposable thumbs?"

"No! Well, yes… But no!"

The young Joe got frustrated, "I don't know, tools? Fucks sakes, what is it?!"

"I'll give you a hint."

Sensei breathed deeply through the nose, *SNIFF*.., and out through the mouth with a relaxed "Hahhhh.."

Through the nose, *SNIFF!*… and out through the mouth, "Hahhh…"

This continued. Sensei could not have made it any more obvious. He found it hard not to laugh as Joe stared at him like that dumb ass in class who never quite got it.

"Hahhh…"

"Hahhh…"]…

..

.

"Huff…"

"Huff…"

Ser Jaime's heavy breathing filled the vacant silences.

"A stag may be able to sprint away if need be. It can smell us coming before it even needs to use its eyes that are so acute to movement."

"…" King Robert listened to Sensei intently.

"But so long as you keep your eye on it, a man can chase a stag forever. Even a rabbit will eventually tire if pursued long enough. All living creatures succumb to the effects of exhaustion, and there is none more resistant to its effects than man!"

A wave of realization zapped at the Stark children, "So that's what Joe's doing!"

"Yes," said Sensei, "Just like the first men in the days before the bronze age, Joe is running his prey into submission."

"Huff… Huff…"

Ser Jaime was on his knees, leaning on his sword to remain upright. He unbuckled the straps of his armor. The shoulder guards were the first to drop, followed by the breast place and braces. By the time he undid the laces on his greaves, the relief on Ser Jaime's face was evident.

"Looks like my plan has been outed," Joe sarcastically beguiled, watching how Ser Jaime's wobbly legs and sword could barely help get the man to his feet, "What do you say, kingslayer. Shall we end this?"

Ser Jaime wiped the dribble from his chin. His back cracked as it straightened, now unencumbered by the weight of his armor. He readied himself for one last huzzah. His mind had accepted death much earlier. He gave it everything he had.

The only thing to do now was to do the very same, right down to the final moments.

Joe couldn't help but admire the acceptance on Ser Jaime's face. No bitching, no complaining, just a man who put his life on the line and who is willing to accept the outcome.

"NOOOOO!!" Queen Cersei shrieked, "JAIME, DON'T DO IT! ROBERT, STOP HIM! STOP THIS!"

"Hahahahaha!" King Robert quaked, amused by Jaime's pathetic appearance and his wife's visceral reaction to her brother's death.

Ser Jaime closed his eyes and smiled. The deathly screams of his lover would have been terrible under normal circumstances. But now, here, with his body at its limit and an impending death knocking at his door, all Jaime could hear was a symphony of love.

Those piercing octaves coming from Cersei's throat were proof of their union, unwavering since the days spent in their mother's womb.

How could he complain? Ser Jaime knew death was something everyone must face. But he got to die how he wanted, in the presence of the one he loved. No doubt Cersei would cradle him as he got ushered to the afterlife.

Ser Jaime opened his eyes, and with a sharp inhale and a tightened grip on his sword, he gave Joe a nod.

A nod that said, 'Let's go. I'm ready.'

Joe tilted his head and smiled at Ser Jaime endearingly. It was the kind of smile Ser Jaime wished his father could have given him, if only once.

They strode, their blades bearing at each other one final time.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Queen Cersei yelled, having to be retrained by guards.

'No! You fool!' Thought Tyrion as he watched his only friend throw away his life.

Just as the moment happened, Cersei and Tyrion closed their eyes. They wanted to watch the exact moment, but their eyes closed of their own accord.

And so too did Ser Jaime's

*SHINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!*

But it was not the sound of tearing flesh that followed.

No. It was more like the shattering of glass~

"…?" Ser Jaime opened his eyes. Why wasn't he dead? Where was the pain?

Cersei and Tyrion opened their eyes to the same question.

They saw their brother, Jaime, with Joe standing over him, his bastard sword almost touching his throat.

In Ser Jaime's hand was his sword, still held there in the position he left it- an attempt to block one last attack.

Yet it was no sword. Not any longer.

All Ser Jaime was holding was a stump of a thing. The steel had broken into pieces. The remaining shards scattered at his feet.

"Wha-?" Jaime managed to utter in disbelief.

"Oh, please!" Joe said in jest, "Did you seriously think tiring you out was my big plan? I'm a little hurt."

Ser Jaime blinked extra hard as if to confirm this wasn't a dream, "Then all that time-"

"Was spent not trying to kill you but to break your sword."

The one who came to the correct conclusion was Tyrion Lannister.

"You got it!"

Queen Cersei dropped to her knees, the tears never-ending.

Meera was doing her best not to cry along with her. The dazzling image of Joe basking in the victorious sun sendt her heart a flutter, an aching selfish need to snatch him up and have Joe all to herself.

Arya couldn't contain herself. She was bursting with energy. She wanted to grab a sword and start practicing right away. Bran was much the same.

Sansa and Lady Catelyn watched from above, as speechless as the rest of the crowd. Rickon had left his mother's side and was running down to join the rest of his family in the courtyard.

"Well fook me," Ser Rodrik said, feeling proud of his contribution to the skills Joe had just shown.

Joe backed off from his defeated opponent, "I win. A deal's a deal."

"Haha," Ser Jaime laughed. The up and down roller coaster of the ordeal he just experienced, the absurd outcome that was about to follow.., "Hahaha! Yes, a deal is a deal. But as you can see, I have no sword."

Joe smirked and handed his sword to Jaime, "Well, it just so happens I brought mine."

Ser Jaime took hold of Joe's sword, his hand lingering by Joe's for a second.

It was here that Ser Jaime got a good look at Joe's amber eyes for the first time. They gazed at the kingslayer admiringly, so warm and happy that they brought Ser Jaime's walls down, completely broken.

He sensed no lie in Joe. It had been over an hour of exchanging their life stories by way of battle, alongside what he had encountered from his interactions with Joe thus far. It all came together and brought Ser Jaime to a conclusion:

'This boy- no. This man. He *sees* me.'

Ser Jaime took firm hold of Joe's sword with the bit of strength he had left, "Kneel."

Joe did just so, "Make it flashy." He whispered.

"In the name of the warrior," Ser Jaime said, placing the sword at Joe's right shoulder, "I charge you to be brave."

"In the name of the father," he said, the sword now at the left, "I charge you to be just."

And finally, back to the right again, "In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the innocent."

Then Ser Jaime mustered his remaining strength. A big group of people was watching. He had to make it *flashy* as Joe instructed.

"Arise, Joe of House Nix, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms!"

"!!!" Bran was overcome with goosebumps.

And a breeze passed through with force.

Joe rose, he and Jaime exchanging a pleasant smile. He took his sword back from his benefactor's hands, now a fellow knight of the realm.

*Clap!* *Clap!* *Clap!*

The first to applaud was Mikken the Blacksmith. Everyone then followed. The folk of Winterfell grinned like they had produced a child that won an Olympic gold medal.

Joe took a moment to take all the admiration, a fulfilled calm on his face.

He stabbed his sword into the ground~

"My name is Joe of House Nix!" He declared, his voice clearer than any words etched on stone, "Take note of this name! Burn it to your skin, brand it to your heart! Do what it takes never to forget!"

As he said the words, a rumble ripped through the sky.

"Robb, look! The clouds are moving!" Bran said, "Father, do you see that?!"

"Shh, Bran." Hushed Jon.

"Yeah, idiot." Arya piled on, "Clouds move, okay? Hush, and let us listen!"

"I'm serious!"

Joe opened his arms to the crowd, welcoming and triumphant, "For when the time comes, that name shall be your war cry!"

Joe then pointed upwards with his sword, "No matter how dark it gets, look to the sky. For that's where the sun will be!"

*AWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

The six direwolf pups then howled up at the grey-blue bowl above.

*AWOOOOOOOO!*

And so did Vera, the honorary direwolf she was.

*Roarrrr!*

Void got in the action. His roar sounded like that lion from the old school opening to MGM movies. (Not really. It was more like the Puma sound effect from the movie Anchorman: Legend of Ron Burgundy).

*NEIGH!!!!*

Horses neighed and spurred on their hind legs. The dogs in the kennels howled and barked. And in the distance, a choir approached.

*TWEET!* *TWEET!* *TWEET!*

It wasn't a cloud that Bran saw moving. It was a bundle of White Ravens rapidly approaching from the distance. Thousands of their tweeting calls surrounded the courtyard as the White Ravens flew around it like an avian tornado.

"Joe!".., "Joe!" .., "Joe!"

The grand parade would say-

"Nix!".., "Nix!" .., "Nix!"

It was pure pandemonium—a vortex of voices. Wildlife chaotically ruptured around Joe. His sky-pointing sword was like a staff that conjured this animal-whispering spell.

Until Bran came with the scabbard, and Joe sheathed his sword, sudden as that.

And the white ravens dispersed in all directions, dissipating in a feathery mist.

The horses settled.

The barks from the kennels died down.

Void and Vera approached their master, bowing before him.

And so did the six direwolf pups. Nymeria, Shaggydog, Lady, Grey Wind, Summer, and Ghost.

Some in the crowd did the same without willing reservation or conscious thought.

It began with Hodor. Then Mikken. Then Gage. Then many of the castle folk and soldiers of the garrison.

Their knees bent~

They didn't know why. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.

Lord Stark saw it all, and above being amazed, a dreadful feeling ate away at him.

*Promise me, Ned.*

*Promise me.*

There was someone who defiantly did not kneel.

Even through that magical sequence of events…

At the end of the day, it was all a roundabout challenge to his legitimacy. King Robert agitated his way forward.

Joe was in the middle of embracing Ser Jaime, who congratulated him for being knighted.

"Joe of House Nix, was it?" King Robert said, "And by whose authority is a bastard bestowed a name?"

Joe played ball, "A king."

"That's right! A King! So I ask you, Joe *Snow*. By whose authority do you have that name of Nix?"

Joe raised a brow and looked at Robert queerly. After the wild night of getting to know the man, he didn't take him for such a sour puss, "Oh, let me have my fun, will you? We're all kings in our own minds, your grace."

King Robert got to the point of his inquiries, "Joe Snow, I would legitimize your name and house."

"Really?" Joe pretended to care, as if he needed approval, "How wonderful!"

"Aye. After you join my Kings Guard."

That's when everyone looked to the person left and right with wide eyes, "Wha?!?!?!"

King Robert held out a welcoming hand, "What say you, Ser Joe Nix?"

"Hmm." Joe placed a hand on his chin and smiled. This offer was genuinely unexpected, but he appreciated it all the same.

"I refuse," Joe said, cool as a cucumber.

*Gasp!* The crowd in disarray.

"The king's guard is among the highest honors in the realm. A bastard refused such a call?"

Jon clenched his fist and cursed his brother's foolishness. What was he thinking?!

Joe pretended not to hear such bickering.

"What?" King Robert barked, insulted, "That was not a request, boy. It was an order from your king!"

Joe winced as he glanced at Ser Jaime, "And why would I serve a king who laughed at the misfortune of someone who swore to protect him?"

["Bahahahaha! How pitiful, the mighty kingslayer!"]

"…" King Robert couldn't deny the charge.

Joe placed a hand on King Roberts's shoulder, "I don't want to spend my life as a glorified sentry. You understand, don't you? So let's just remain friends, okay?"

King Robert felt warm at the touch. How long had it been since someone came at him as an equal or looked upon him as a friend that doesn't need to kiss his arse? Yet from Joe, he could hear that sincerity. From Joe, he could see that comrade gleam.

"Fine, fine! All right, Ser Joe!" King Robert said with a wink, "Or should I call you Ser Joe Nix? Hahahaha!"

Joe couldn't help being surprised. King Robert could have easily played the 'I AM YOUR KING!' card and made this situation messy.

"I'll take that as a full legal acknowledgement of my house and name!"

"Hahahaha! Don't get too carried away!"

Joe pat King Roberts chest, "Hey, this is cause for celebration, is it not? How about we get cunt faced during the hunt? SOMEONE GET THE WINE!"

King Robert was overcome with eagerness. This was the kind of energy that was missing this morning.

He could smell it- an air ripe with the hunt!

"And someone get some apples! Tyrion, where are you!"

King Robert and Ser Joe walked together with arms around each other's shoulders, shouting orders and talking madness about what they would hunt and how much they would drink.

The crowd couldn't believe it. They had just been privy to a miraculous sequence of events that would no doubt spread throughout the continent and beyond.

Swords breaking, wolves howling, and ravens flapping their white wings of change.

And now, the King and the newly anointed knight leave the scene, just like that.

The temperature dropping an extra degree.