Joffrey rode with Sansa, and Joffrey's horse was a swift red-maned steed, moving very fast.
Sansa's mare needed Sansa to urge her on desperately to keep up.
Their adventure was very much like a knight's tale, and Sansa felt like the companion of the legendary knight.
Sansa was a Northerner, but her mother always liked to cultivate her into a Southern lady, just like Catelyn in her youth.
Joffrey and Sansa searched for a cave along the riverbank, driving a Shadowcat back to its lair.
When they were hungry, Joffrey followed the smoke to a country estate and ordered the bumpkins to prepare food and wine for the Prince and his companion.
Sansa felt she had drunk too much wine, and also eaten the freshly caught trout.
After eating and drinking their fill, the two rode slowly.
Joffrey's singing was high and sweet, and Sansa felt her happiness at this moment was inexpressible.
"Should we go back?" Sansa asked.
After drinking too much, she felt dizzy.
"Wait a little longer," Joffrey said, "The old battlefield is just ahead, where the Green Fork turns.
You know, that's where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen.
He shattered his chest with one swing, crunch, the armor was ruined.
" Joffrey brandished an imaginary warhammer, demonstrating to Sansa.
"Later, my uncle Jaime killed old Aerys, and my dad became King.
Hmm, what's that sound?"
Sansa heard sounds coming from the woods, and she instinctively wanted to take Joffrey away.
"Let's go back, Joffrey."
"I'll go see," Joffrey said.
The two heard sounds coming from the woods; it was the sound of wood colliding, wood hitting each other.
If they got closer, they could also hear heavy breathing and intermittent groans.
"Don't be afraid with me here," Joffrey said to Sansa, drawing his lion's tooth.
Joffrey saw a clearing in the woods, the terrain overlooking the river.
Joffrey and Sansa saw a Boy and girl playing a knight's game there, running around on the grass with wooden sticks, energetically hacking at each other.
The Boy was older and stronger, on the offensive, while the girl was thinner, dressed in dirty leather, clumsily parrying attacks.
But the girl's counterattack was too weak; the Boy's sword swept violently, smashing hard onto the girl's fingers, and the girl dropped her weapon in pain.
"Good sister, your steps need to be steady, you need to eat more, otherwise your strength won't be enough.
Shall we end our game today?" There was also a more mature Boy's voice, watching their fight.
Jon picked up Arya's wooden stick, then went to check Arya's injury.
"Sir, I didn't mean to.
This young lady forced me," the Boy said pitifully.
Joffrey burst out laughing, and the fighting Boy turned his head in surprise, then let go, dropping the wooden stick in his hand.
Arya glared at them, stroking her fingers, which startled Sansa.
The three also discovered the sudden arrival of uninvited guests, Joffrey and Sansa.
"Arya, is that you?" Sansa was startled; it was indeed her sister.
And the one watching the fun was her Bastard brother, Jon.
"What are you doing here?
Don't meddle in our affairs!" Arya's eyes were full of angry tears as she shouted at them.
"Go away."
"Your Royal Highness, we were unaware of your arrival.
If we have disturbed you, we are deeply sorry," Jon cautiously stepped forward and bowed.
He smelled the wine on Joffrey; this was not a good sign.
The Butcher's boy also looked flustered.
"Your Royal Highness."
Joffrey looked at Arya, Jon, then at the Butcher's boy, then at Sansa, his gaze sweeping over them several times.
"This is your Bastard brother, your sister?" Joffrey asked.
Sansa nodded, feeling a shame she had never experienced before.
Joffrey then saw the Butcher's boy, an ugly youth with a freckled face and thick red hair.
"Boy, who are you?"
"My name is Mikke, Your Royal Highness," the Boy quickly whispered.
"He's a butcher's apprentice," Sansa added.
"He's my friend, don't you bully him," Arya quickly said.
Jon frowned; his impression of this Prince was not good, especially a drunken Prince.
"A pig-killing Boy also wants to be a knight, does he?" Joffrey dismounted, then, sword in hand, walked towards Mikke.
There was a gleam of pleasure in Joffrey's eyes.
"Butcher's boy, pick up your sword, let's spar a bit, I'll see if you're worthy."
Mikke was terrified and froze in place.
Joffrey, however, kept advancing.
"Thwack!" Jon Snow moved faster than Joffrey.
His slap landed hard on the Butcher's boy's face, and Mikke's cheek instantly turned red.
"Get lost, what's your status?
You're just a pig-killing apprentice, are you even fit to spar with a Prince?
Get lost, you idiot!"
Arya was too distressed to speak when she saw this scene.
Jon slapped him several times in a row, finally waking Mikke up.
Mikke suddenly realized, dropped his wooden stick, and ran in the opposite direction.
The sound of the slaps was so loud that even Joffrey was stunned, but Jon's words were very pleasing to him, so much so that he ignored Jon's actions.
"Your Royal Highness, he's just a clumsy Butcher's boy.
He already knows he was wrong, why don't we go back?" Jon kindly advised.
"Quick, pick it up, I remember you, your swordsmanship is not bad either," Joffrey's eyes darted.
"Since he ran away, then you and I will spar.
Hurry up and pick it up, or do you only bully little girls?"
"No, I can't, I'm just Lord Eddard's bastard," Jon quickly waved his hand.
"bastard, bastard, I hate bastards like you the most," Joffrey said suddenly and viciously, as if remembering something.
"Pick up a weapon!" Joffrey raised his longsword, and Jon pretended to tremble.
This Prince was even crazier than he thought.
"Why didn't you intervene when that Butcher's boy hit my lady's sister just now?
Are all bastards like you, with bad intentions?"
"No!" Arya shouted.
Joffrey's longsword pierced Jon's cheek, a bloom of blood appeared on Jon's face, and the place where the sword pierced began to bleed.
"Stop!" Arya shrieked in anger, then grabbed the wooden stick that had fallen to the ground.
Sansa was so scared.
"Arya, don't interfere."
"Little sister, don't get involved, this is a man's game.
I won't hurt him too badly," Joffrey said to Arya, then stared at Jon.
"Don't do it, Arya," Jon took a step back, quickly trying to dissuade her.
If Arya hit the Prince with a stick and really knocked him senseless, things would be even worse.
Sansa, seeing this, quickly jumped off her horse, but it was too late.
Jon picked up Mikke's wooden stick, blood flowing down his face.
"I surrender, Prince."
"That won't do, a knight cannot surrender so easily," Joffrey laughed, his longsword pressing closer.
Jon felt that something was wrong; this Prince was using a real sword and had drunk a lot of wine, such a person was the most unstable.
Jon first picked up the wooden stick, and Joffrey rushed straight at him, slashing diagonally.
Joffrey's sword easily cut Jon's wooden stick.
But with a drunk person, Jon still found a slight opportunity; Joffrey's steps were too unsteady, and his sword swings were wild.
Jon cautiously moved to Joffrey's side; he didn't attack, only defended, dodging the most dangerous attacks.
Then the crack in the wooden stick caught Joffrey's sword, and that was an opportunity.
"Damn it! What are you doing, you Bastard!" Joffrey roared, Jon was pulling.
Jon was stronger than him, and better at swordsmanship.
Jon was going to take his lion's tooth.
Joffrey hurriedly pulled his sword back, the longsword came out of the wooden stick, Jon was burdened, not daring to get too close.
Jon dodged backward, but the blade again drew a long, diagonal wound on Jon's shoulder, blood gushing out once more.
This time the wound was longer, and the blood directly stained Jon's clothes red.
The large amount of blood, the red blood, even made Joffrey pause.
Sansa screamed desperately: "Stop, both of you stop, you've messed everything up!" But no one listened to her.
Jon endured the pain, snatched Joffrey's sword, then threw it directly on the ground, far away from Joffrey.
Arya threw a stone from her hand; it missed Joffrey but hit Joffrey's steed.
The steed, startled, ran out of the woods.
Joffrey looked at the two of them, cursing terribly.
Sansa didn't know what to do, only watched helplessly from the side, her vision almost obscured by tears.
"I hate you all!" Arya rushed to her brother's side, looking at the injured Jon, with wounds on his face and shoulder.
This Joffrey was a lunatic, and Sansa was still so infatuated.
Joffrey sobered up a bit; he seemed to have cut the Hand's Bastard, which wasn't too good.
"You're a lunatic, an idiot!" Arya cursed, then quickly bandaged Jon.
A gray shadow appeared beside Arya, glaring fiercely at Joffrey.
The Direwolf wanted to rush over, but Jon controlled it.
The Direwolf bared its teeth at Joffrey, the wolf began to snarl, its sharp teeth like blades.
Joffrey was so frightened that he fell to the ground, covered in dirt.
He dared not pick up his longsword.
Joffrey knew the terrible state of being pounced on by a wolf; his pretty face and hands would not be saved.
Joffrey looked up at the Direwolf and Arya, letting out fearful whimpers.
"No," he said, "Don't hurt me, or I'll tell Mama."
"Don't you dare bully them!" Sansa shrieked at her sister.
"I'm sorry, Prince, let's end the game for today," Jon said with difficulty.
His dripping blood made him look very frightening.
Arya and Jon ran to their mounts, Nymeria following behind her.
After they left, Sansa walked to the Prince's side.
He closed his eyes in pain, breathing rapidly.
Sansa knelt beside him.
"Joffrey," she sobbed, "Oh, look what they've done, scaring you like this.
My poor Prince, don't be afraid, I'll ride to the estate we just left and find someone to help."
She reached out and gently brushed his soft golden hair away.
Joffrey suddenly opened his eyes, filled only with hatred and the most utter contempt.
"Then get lost!" He spat at her.
"And, don't—you—dare—touch—me!"
"
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