Holding the hilt of my sword tightly in my hand, I looked down at the blade still tainted with the Petyr’s blood, dripping slowly into the dirt of Riverrun’s Godswood. My father stood not far from me. I could hear his leather gloves straining as he held his hands in tight fists down at his sides. His body ridged as he stared in the face of the Heart Tree, praying to the gods to give him the strength to resist giving me a thrashing.

Rickard's stern and authoritative voice echoed across the air in the Godswood, a hint of a warning in it. "You could've killed him, Brandon." His eyes, sharp and observant, were locked on mine. "What were you thinking, dueling him here, in view of everyone?"

"He challenged me for Catelyn’s hand. My betrothed, thanks to you." I finally spoke bitterly, my teeth clenched. My hold on the hilt of my sword tightened even more. I was reluctant to engage Petyr in combat, yet I understood that declining would be perceived as dishonorable and cowardly. Two characteristics my father wouldn’t tolerate. "I merely acted as any other honorable man would have."

Rickard's gaze remained locked on me, his eyes cold and hard. "That does not excuse your recklessness. You could've refused him, and it would have been seen as merciful." His voice was laced with disappointment, but it was also stern. "Sometimes, wisdom and restraint are more honorable than senseless violence."

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled sharply. I’ve only wanted to give Petyr the opportunity to showcase his bravery in an honorable way, just as I would for any other man who dared to challenge me. I had no intention of humiliating him by refusing him, nor did I want him to believe that I did not regard him seriously or that he was inferior to me due to his lesser lineage.

“I am not marrying Catelyn Tully.” My unwavering and determined gaze found my father’s, as I stood tall and unyielding. This was all her doing. A stupid girl who dreams of courtly love and a fairytale life.

I would have respected her, if she had given her favor to Petyr when he requested it instead of thrusting it into my hand. I would have thought better of her, if she had permitted her brother Edmure to support Petyr rather than forcing him to serve as my squire. I would have admired her, if she had halted the duel altogether instead of merely begging me to spare his life. It was evident that the Tully’s words: Family, Duty, Honor, meant nothing to her. For she forsaken a man she claimed to consider family.

“Betroth me to another, I don’t care who, and I will not resist. That I swear to you.” The godswood grew still, even the whispering of the leaves in the wind seemed to hush. “If you keep my betrothal to her, I’ll sooner join the Night’s Watch. The choice is yours: Your southron ambitions or your heir.”

My father’s expression didn't waver as he held my gaze, his expression betraying nothing. The silence between us hung heavy in the air. No birds sang, nor did small animals scurry through the undergrowth. The Godswood was unusually still and quiet.

Finally, he spoke, his voice sharp. "Your threat to join the Night's Watch is not something to be taken lightly. It is an honourable order that demands sacrifice." He took a step forward, his boots crushing the fallen leaves that lay on the ground, closing the distance between us as he stood in front of me. His height and powerful frame looming over my own form, his gaze was like ice, unwavering in its intensity, his grey eyes looked like chips of steel as they bore into my own. “Have you thought through the consequences of your words, Brandon?"

I clenched my jaw at the tone my father had used. I was not a young boy to be reprimanded like a child. “I've thought it over." My voice held a sharp edge just like my father's own words had. "I will not marry Catelyn Tully. I will not be bound to a woman who fails to value a man's honor and loyalty."