"You bitch," Theon snapped and growled. "You fucking bitch! I will kill you."
He lost the last bit of his sanity. He lost the control that he had maintained over himself since Jon and his entourage had arrived at Winterfell, and he charged towards Slyvia.
"Theon!" A few voices called out from the yard.
But Theon was too maddened to listen to any of them. In just a few strides, he quickly closed the distance and was already upon Slyvia. His sword was raised high, and it looked as if he would cleave her right at the neck.
Slyvia, on the other hand, had barely moved. Her expression had not changed, and she was standing in the exact same position, as if she had been frozen into a statue.
"General Slyvia!" Jory Cassel shouted. "Move! Get out of the way."
She did not move. It looked as if she had been caught off guard by Theon's sudden attack and was about to lose her head.
But at the last moment, just when Theon was about to bring his sword down, she raised her right leg and kicked him in the gut. In his mad charge, Theon did not even see her make her move. She struck him squarely in the stomach, using only a very small bit of her strength.
"Ahh!" A painful grunt escaped Theon's lips as he was sent tumbling backwards onto the ground.
There was a stunned silence in the Winterfell training yard. Theon was lying sprawled on the dirt. He had lost his grip on his sword, and a wave of agony was coursing through his stomach.
Meanwhile, people like Jory Cassel and Robb breathed a sigh of relief. Things had escalated very quickly, and if any harm had come to General Slyvia, Winterfell would have been put into a very awkward, uncomfortable, and difficult position.
"Theon Greyjoy," Slyvia mumbled mockingly. "Get up. Try one more time."
Jory Cassel, who was about to order a couple of men to restrain Theon, halted in his tracks. His words got stuck in his throat.
"General," he mumbled, looking towards her. "What are you doing?"
Slyvia did not respond. She did not even look in his direction. Jory was confused. He instinctively began to walk towards her when, suddenly, two Dothraki warriors appeared in front of him, blocking his path.
"Jory Cassel," one Dothraki said in his broken Common Tongue. "Do not interfere. Let them duel."
"He has insulted General Slyvia. He has challenged General Slyvia," he continued. "She will answer him."
Jory frowned and looked around. The nearly twenty soldiers and Dothraki present in the yard had their eyes fixed on Slyvia. Yet, not an iota of worry or anxiety was present on their faces. They were relaxed. Far too relaxed. Jory took a deep breath and nodded his head.
He knew that things were spiraling out of control, and he knew that he did not have enough status to put an end to this madness. General Slyvia was far too important a person for someone like Jory Cassel to interfere against her actions.
The only relief was that one of the men had already run off to inform Lord Stark of what was playing out in the yard the moment Theon had begun to insult her. His eyes went towards Robb. Just like with him, he saw two of Lord Aeos's men standing in front of the young Stark. Most likely, Robb too had been asked not to interfere.
Meanwhile, back in the ring, Theon's anger flared up once again upon hearing Slyvia's words. He rummaged his hand across the ground and found his grip on the sword. He struggled, but was back on his feet in a couple of moments. With the same maddened look on his face, he charged towards her once more.
This time, despite still being in a frenzy, he was paying proper attention to her. He had enough sanity returned to him to realise his mistake in the first instance.
He had his eyes fixed on her, waiting for and anticipating the move she would make. She did not make one. She remained standing still.
He brought his sword down with the intent of striking her across the face. She leaned back slightly, and the blade passed harmlessly a couple of inches away from her skin. It looked as if it was a lucky escape.
Theon turned and swung once again. He missed. He swung again, and missed once more. Again and again. And now they realised that it was Slyvia's far superior skill and not lucky escapes.
Slyvia still had not moved from her spot. She remained rooted right where she had been standing, the only movement being the slight tilts of her upper body. The way she was toying with Theon was shocking to the spectators and deeply humiliating for Theon.
"Ahh!" Theon roared in frustration as he missed another swing.
Slyvia chuckled mockingly.
"You are not able to touch me even when I am neither moving nor defending myself," she said. "Oh, Theon!"
"Maybe you should have followed Lord Aeos's advice and found out about your real Thrall father," she continued. "Knowing who your true father is would have lifted a burden from your shoulders. And maybe you would not have been this helpless."
"Hehe!" Theon laughed evilly upon hearing this.
"And maybe," he spat, his voice cutting across the silence of the Winterfell training yard, "if your Lord Aeos had found out about his whore of a mother, he would not have run away from Winterfell."
Absolute silence fell over the training yard. It felt as though the temperature had suddenly plummeted. Even those used to the biting cold of the North felt a chill crawl down their spines. The atmosphere turned extremely oppressive and suffocating. The people in the yard felt as if their knees had gone weak, threatening to buckle beneath them.
At that exact moment, Ned Stark appeared on the balcony above the training yard, accompanied by Rodrik Cassel, Maester Luwin, and Catelyn Stark. They had heard everything Theon had just said. They, too, felt the sudden, terrifying shift in the atmosphere as every eye in the yard locked onto General Slyvia.
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