You'll regret turning down the king's second offer," Ser Meryn Trant muttered, just as the two began grappling in the center of the throne room.
"I doubt that very much," Arthur replied calmly, holding back his full strength. He didn't want to humiliate the knight, but neither would he allow himself to be overpowered.
"Hmph," Meryn snorted, his expression one of disdain. With a sudden shout, he threw his weight into the grapple. From the soles of his boots to his tightened core and tensed shoulders, he launched an all-out effort to overpower the younger man and end what he considered a farce.
He still saw this match as an insult—having to be pitted against a no-name upstart in front of the Iron Throne.
"Come on, Ser Trant! Finish him!" Cleos Frey called out, his voice echoing through the hall.
Ser Meryn's reputation for cruelty and his well-known ties to House Lannister made him a natural ally for Cleos. To Cleos, this wasn't just about a duel—it was personal vengeance for being humiliated in a tavern.
"Yield if it gets too much," Ser Barristan Selmy warned from the side. He wasn't sure if Arthur truly understood what it meant to face a Kingsguard—even one like Meryn Trant, whose skills paled next to Barristan's own. His concern was genuine.
The gathered crowd murmured and shifted, more interested in the entertainment than the stakes.
In King's Landing, even the nobles' power games were a form of theater for the common folk. Love, betrayal, loyalty—it was all just performance to them. The outcome mattered little. They were here to watch.
King Robert, seated atop the Iron Throne, leaned forward with narrowed eyes. Beside him stood Lord Eddard Stark and other lords of the Small Council. All watched intently.
Though they expected Arthur to lose, the fact that he had not yet fallen was impressive in itself.
The two combatants appeared evenly matched in height, but Meryn was broader in the shoulders, thicker in the arms. To the casual observer, it seemed obvious who held the advantage.
Then suddenly—"Goodbye," Arthur muttered.
Feeling he had measured the peak of Ser Meryn's strength, Arthur surged forward. With a sharp motion, he broke the grapple and shoved the knight back with surprising ease. Without pause, he raised Ice—the massive Valyrian greatsword—and brought it crashing down in a series of swift, powerful blows.
Steel rang against steel as Meryn scrambled to defend himself, his sword barely keeping up with the sheer force behind Arthur's strikes.
The throne room fell silent except for the echoing clang of steel meeting Valyrian steel.
"How in the seven hells—?" Robert shot to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief.
It defied all his expectations. Strength was supposed to come with bulk, with girth. But Arthur—lithe and lean—was clearly overpowering the man sworn to protect the king himself.
Not only holding his ground, but driving Ser Meryn back with every swing.
Eddard Stark stood motionless, unable to hide his surprise. A moment ago, he had doubted Arthur's tale of felling twenty armed men. Now, he was reconsidering everything.
Even Ser Loras Tyrell, the famed Knight of Flowers, blinked in astonishment. "That's… rather strong," he said under his breath.
Renly Baratheon leaned closer to his friend. Though he didn't grasp all the nuances of swordplay, he could read momentum—and Arthur had all of it.
"How strong would you say he is?" Renly asked.
"In terms of raw strength?" Loras kept his eyes fixed on the duel. "I wouldn't stand a chance."
Barristan Selmy, watching closely, realized he had misjudged the match. His worry had been misplaced. If anything, it was Ser Meryn who might soon need saving.
Some of the watchers began to change their tune.
"Gods, Arthur's actually winning!"
"Maybe he did knock down twenty men by himself."
But not all were convinced.
"He got lucky! Ser Meryn's clearly holding back!"
"Yes, that must be it—Trant is a Kingsguard! One of the seven sworn swords of the king!"
Despite the clash before their very eyes, some refused to abandon their prejudice. A knight of the Kingsguard losing to a minor lord from the Riverlands? Impossible—unless there was trickery involved.
Yet for those who knew better—for the warriors and the wise—the answer was becoming increasingly clear: Arthur Bracken was no ordinary young man.
There were many in the throne room who shared the same disbelief. In front of their stunned eyes, Arthur swung Ice in a brutal arc and shattered Ser Meryn Trant's longsword, ending the duel in an instant.
Ser Meryn stared at the jagged hilt remaining in his grip, then at the broken blade clattering across the stone floor. His expression was a mixture of shame, disbelief, and humiliation.
Just moments before, he had been certain he would dispatch the upstart Riverlands knight swiftly, proving the dominance of the Kingsguard before the court and the smallfolk alike.
But the duel had not gone as expected. He had not anticipated being overwhelmed—much less disarmed—in front of the Iron Throne.
Even if his opponent had wielded a Valyrian steel sword, defeat was defeat. The whispers would spread quickly. His reputation, already murky among the knights of the realm, was now in tatters.
Cleos Frey and his cousin stood frozen, mouths agape. They had been convinced that Arthur had no chance against a knight of the Kingsguard.
But now that illusion had been shattered before their very eyes. Their internal defenses cracked under the weight of reality. And if Ser Meryn had lost, they too might suffer the king's wrath for causing this spectacle.
Arthur turned his eyes toward the quiet knight, then slowly panned across the stunned crowd, finding a quiet satisfaction in the awe etched into their faces.
There was power in their silence.
Turning toward the Iron Throne, he stepped forward and raised his voice.
"Have I proven my strength?" he asked, arms spread in a calm, composed gesture, his gaze fixed on the king.
King Robert blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Ah… yes. Yes, you have," he finally said, clearing his throat.
It was clear to anyone watching that Robert Baratheon had not expected this outcome. But then, neither had most of the room. The king's surprise was mirrored on dozens of faces, so it passed without comment.
"Ser Arthur Bracken clearly possesses the strength to defeat those twenty armed men," Robert declared, his voice echoing across the chamber. "Everyone can see that now. Therefore, I believe Cleos Frey and his cousin misled their king… for reasons of their own."
Robert's mood shifted quickly. He turned on the Queen's kin with fury in his voice, berating them in front of the court.
"You lied to me, embarrassed yourselves, and wasted my time!" he roared. "You're lucky I don't have you both flogged. Get out! And if either of you so much as looks sideways at that tavern girl again, I'll see you gelded and shipped to the Wall!"
The hall remained silent as the two Lannister cousins stumbled back in shame. It was a harsh dressing-down, but a deserved one—and it let Robert feel like he had restored order without dealing with paperwork.
Besides, he had more pleasant distractions waiting for him in his chambers.
As the king rose to leave, the Kingsguard closed in around him. But before exiting, several of the white-cloaked knights glanced at Arthur—curious, perhaps even slightly wary.
Ser Barristan was the last to leave. His eyes lingered a moment longer on the young man who had bested one of their own.
Arthur paid them no mind. He walked down from the center of the room and approached Lord Eddard Stark, who stood solemnly at the base of the throne steps.
With both hands, Arthur offered back the Valyrian steel greatsword. "This sword is incredibly sharp," he said, respectfully. "Truly worthy of being called a blade of Valyria."
Eddard accepted Ice and reattached it to the wide strap at his waist.
"My apologies for doubting you earlier," Ned said, now speaking with more warmth. "From what I've seen—before and after—you are a man of honor, courage, and strength."
As a man raised by House Arryn, whose words were As High as Honor, Ned held personal standards that few met. But Arthur had impressed him—not only through his skill, but through his integrity.
"I only did what anyone with a conscience would do," Arthur replied. "Anyone who saw that tavern scene would've known it had gone too far."
Eddard nodded seriously, recognizing the truth in his words.
"You're free to go," he said. "After today's display, I doubt the Queen's cousins will be eager to cross your path again."
Arthur smiled faintly. Part of him hoped they would try—just so he could knock them down again.
The crowd, which had begun thinning once the king departed, now trickled out in waves. Most were still muttering about what they had just seen.
As Arthur turned to leave with Patrick Mallister and Desmond, a voice rang out from behind him.
"Ser, may I come with you?"
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