23 Blue Wet True

Joe sighed and stepped forward, and he could feel Lady Arryn's eyes undressing him, "Uh, I'm afraid I'm in no condition. Besides," he said, glancing at Bronn, "This isn't my fight."

Tyrion was disappointed but wasn't going to let this set him back. "I name my brother, then, Jaime Lannister."

Lady Arryn felt she had Tyrion on the backfoot now, "The *kingslayer* is hundreds of miles from here."

"Send a raven for him. I'm happy to wait."

Lady Arryn wasn't having any of that, "The trial will be today."

You could see the life come back to Ser Vardis when he heard he didn't have to fight the kingslayer. The same kind of life that had been sucked out of Tyrion. . .

"Do I have a volunteer?" Tyrion asked, but laughter was the only reply, "Anyone? Anyone?"

Tyrion looked around, but he saw no one return his gaze. None but Joe, who seemed to be waiting for something impatiently.

Lady Arryn called it in, "I think we can assume that no one is willing—."

That's when a black-maned sellsword stepped out of the shadows, "I'll stand for the dwarf."

Looking at Bronn's cheeky smirk, Tyrion damn near pissed himself from relief.

'Bronn of the fucking—.. Wait, what keep was he from again?'

So it happened. Bronn and Ser Vardis had an hour while the court gathered themselves for the bloody affair.

Joe and Tyrion stood beside each other. Tyrion was beyond anxious, his life hanging in the balance. Joe was so excited to watch Bronn in action that he allowed himself to forget his troubles, even if just for the moment.

The Moon Door opened again. Ser Vardis put down the visor of his helm, hiding his nervous expression. But his eyes portrayed all the fear Bronn needed to see.

Bronn put on his fingerless gloves, declined the offer of a shield from a young squire-lad, and took hold of his sword.

Ser Vardis came at him, armour-clad and with a shield larger than Tyrion.

Robin Arryn gave the signal, "Fight!!!"

Joe took a deep breath through his nose. He wanted his brain to have all the oxygen it could get — his eyes to absorb all the light they could muster. He wanted to witness this duel at its purest resonance.

It did not disappoint. Bronn moved with utmost caution and alertness as he picked his spots to engage Ser Vardis.

The first thing Joe noticed was how light Bronn was on his feet. Though not on Joe's level, Bronn's footwork was in the same stratosphere.

Bronn's distance management was also a cut above the rest. Within seconds of their first engagement, Bronn had already calculated both movement speed and the speed of Ser Vardis' blade.

['That's why you never go 100% at the start.']

They were barely a minute into combat when Ser Vardis began to breathe heavily. His blows were becoming slower, his strikes less deadly. Meanwhile, Bronn had barely even broken a sweat.

Ser Vardis had not the equipment to deal with an opponent like Bronn. Sure, he had the material equipment, but he had blunt cognitive tools against Bronn's resourcefulness.

Bronn would jump over objects, use people as human shields, kick candle stands, weave between pillars. . . He used everything and anything at his disposal. All the while, Ser Vardis was evaporated in mind, body, and spirit.

That's what happens when facing an opponent that outclasses you. Mind affects the body and vice versa. When a warrior begins to believe there is nothing he can do, that mental weight can fatigue greater than any armour.

Yet, for a moment, there was a time when Ser Vardis might have had him. Bronn had gotten careless and allowed himself backed into a corner, the Moon Door at his heels. He locked swords with Ser Vardis and had to struggle in a fight of weight and strength.

Just when Bronn felt like he was being pushed back too far beyond comfort, it was like another level of his awareness was unlocked, and Bronn pushed him back with well-timed tenacity.

That was the final blow to the psyche of Ser Vardis. He had put everything into that one last push. It was taking all he had to remain standing. Ser Vardis swung his sword with an energy he never knew existed. He was diving into the deepest part of himself, squeezing out every last drop of strength in the name of survival.

But Bronn knew the eyes of a dead man when he saw them. Like prey faced with the jaws of a tiger, Ser Vardis' body was pumping hormones to prepare him for death.

They engaged again, but this time Bronn felt it safe enough to use his sword more often, and at the end of the sequence, Bronn had parried Ser Vardis' sword aside, allowing for a slice at the cracks of his armour under the armpit.

"Oh!" many gasped. Lady Arryn and Catelyn flinched with doubt and worry.

This was the first time Tyrion allowed himself to breathe, "Yes!"

Ser Vardis felt the gush of blood at his torso. He raised his visor to catch his breath, his face drenched in sweat.

"Enough, Ser Vardis!" demanded Lady Arryn, "Finish him!"

It was at those words that Ser Vardis knew his death was certain. He put his visor down for one last time and readied himself for a final attack.

He came at Bronn with a combination of low-angled strikes that he'd practised many times over his life. Maybe at another time against another opponent, some miracle could happen. Sadly, that was not the case.

By now, Bronn had already memorized this combination — Ser Vardis was practically a one-trick pony. He dodged the opening sequence of the flurry before parrying Ser Vardis' sword and countering with a slice at the back of his knee.

Bronn had the kind of experience fighting against armoured men that Joe could only dream of. The way he found gaps in armour was masterful. Joe felt like it was truly an honour to witness Bronn fight. And judging from the eye test, Joe could argue that he was on par with Jaime Lannister.

Furthermore, in his short time spent with Bronn, Joe had watched the man sharpen his sword for perhaps half of it. Bronn sharpened his blade so much that it was like he planned on removing the hair from the thighs of virgins.

So when Bronn found his target and sliced with a clean motion, Joe knew that Ser Vardis was fucked.

"Ugh!" Ser Vardis groaned as he dropped to his knees.

This caused the crowd to gasp even louder.

"What are you doing?" a woman cried, "Get up!"

"Get up!"

"Get up!"

To his credit, Ser Vardis *did* get up. Yet it was to no avail. He groggily charged at Bronn with no technique or direction. The sellsword stepped to the side and used his leg to trip him up.

Bronn kicked away his shield. However, the knight kept hold of his sword till the very end.

As Bronn loomed over him, Ser Vardis gave it one last effort.

Bronn almost lazily caught Ser Vardis' arm before it even began its swinging motion.

There Ser Vardis knelt, awaiting death. Once Bronn felt like Ser Vardis wasn't going to erupt with one final sudden trick, he looked up to Lady Arryn to see if perhaps she would stop this.

When Bronn saw no indication of the kind, he took his sword and held it out. Ser Vardis summoned his bravery and looked Bronn in the eye.

"No!" some cried.

"Mercy! Mercy!" others would say.

Lady Arryn watched with a serious brow as she shouldered the weight of responsibility that many high lords before have had to endure before her — the death of one's own subjects.

Bronn angled his blade. He would make this as clean as possible.

Lady Catelyn closed her eyes, submitting to the fate of the gods.

It was only when a certain voice spoke out did Lady Catelyn open them again.

"Enough!"

And when she did, she found a bastard boy holding Bronn by the arm, stopping his killing blow.

"The justice is clear as day. This duel is over," Joe said, letting go of Bronn's arm, "Ser Vardis is a good man who fought bravely. Let him live to see another day with his family."

Then Joe turned and glared at Lady Catelyn with his jagged amber gape, "Let him live to see the *winter*."

Lady Catelyn didn't care about Ser Vardis either way. She just felt like Joe used her husband's words too liberally, even at the best of times. In any case, the results were obvious. Tyrion was to be released. Yet it was not Lady Catelyn's decision to make.

"Trial by combat is to the death, *boy*."

The way she said it made Joe's stomach curl. But he hadn't come all this way just to cower to Lysa Arryn, of all people. How many times had a predator nearly killed him, and every time he wanted to pussy out, Sensei made him go out there and face them again?

"Or until one side yields. From what my father told me, Lord Jon Arryn would have spared this man," Joe said, "I don't think he'd want a loyal subject to die senselessly for the false accusation of his murder."

Joe leaned down to level his face with Ser Vardis, "Do you yield, Ser?"

"Huff. . . Huff. . ." Ser Vardis had hardened his heart for death. But now, with a second chance within his grasp, he made no reservations to hide his true feelings, "I. . . Yes. . . I yield."

Joe clapped his hands together, "There you have it. Combat over. One side concedes to the other. This trial by combat has fulfilled its purpose. If anyone objects to the will of the Gods, speak now."

"You have no right to come into this hall and speak my husband's name!" Lady Arryn spat, "How dare you interfere with the king's justice!"

"You deny the truth of my words?" Joe lashed back, "The sky is blue, water is wet, and Tyrion is innocent. But by all means, if we must run this to completion~"

He turned to return to the fringes of the crowd, "Then as you were," he said to Bronn.

The crowd began to stir again, "No!"

"Mercy!"

"It's done!"

Lady Arryn's voice echoed in the court, "Silence!"

She sat back on her throne, her nostrils flaring as she pondered her decision. The court of public opinion was firmly on the side of mercy. And even Lysa, as crazy as she was, could understand the defeat of Ser Vardis. Besides, the man yielded.

"Very well," she said with malice toward Tyrion, "The Imp has been trialled for his crimes and found not guilty in the sight of the Gods. You are free to go."

"Yes!"

"Nice!"

Bronn, Tyrion and Joe began their celebrations. Then Lady Arryn stood and glared at Bronn, "You don't fight with honour!"

"No," replied Bronn, before a lazy glance at Ser Vardis, struggling to his feet, "He did."

Robin Arryn didn't quite understand the sequence of events, "Can I make the little man fly now?"

Tyrion felt an almost orgasmic feeling as Mord unlocked his cuffs. Joe had never seen Tyrion walk with such vigour and bravado. "Not this little man. This little man is going home."

"I believe you have something of mine," said Tyrion to Ser Rodrik.

Ser Rodrik remained still as a statue, moving only his eyes to check Lady Catelyn's permission.

With a slight nod from Lady Catelyn, Ser Rodrik threw Tyrion his pouch of gold, which Tyrion caught, before giving Lady Arryn the most sarcastic curtsy ever attempted in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tyrion made a beeline toward Mord and threw him the entire pouch of gold, "A Lannister always pays his debts."

And with that, the doors to the courtroom opened. Bronn did his version of a respectful bow and followed Tyrion in toe.

Joe lingered there for a while. He scanned around the room, slowly and methodically inspecting everyone with eyes of ice-cold contempt until, finally, he looked the way of Catelyn and Lysa Tully.

Lady Catelyn squinted her eyes with hatred. Lysa, however, parted her lips slightly and breathed with a shallow moan. No one heard this but Robin Arryn, who took note of it.

"I pray there comes a time when I can look you both in the eyes and find forgiveness. Be the better man and all that kumbaya bullshit. But until that time comes—."

That's when Joe began his stride. His dark wolf-pelt cloak swayed with each step. Icebreaker sat handsomely at his right waste, the dragon egg in the dark-green sash on his left.

"— Stay the fuck away from me."