Yes, naturally.

Jon bounded into the clearing, Jaime hot on his heels. "Arya! Sansa! What's going on!"

Sandor sheathed his sword, looking to see Jaime behind Jon. "The children were fighting. Prince Joffrey has demanded I behead the Stark girl. Do I have your approval to disobey that order?"

Joffrey seethed. "My uncle does not command you, Hound. I do. Nevertheless, I will show mercy. In exchange for Arya's life, I demand the blood of the butcher boy. He started it all, in truth, and I merely intended to save my intended's life, before she cruelly attacked me. Perhaps they are in league together..."

Jon looked at the stupid, smug prince, and swore silently that he would never let him marry Sansa. His sister was too trusting, and so blinded by hope for a royal romance that even now she seemed more motivated to maintain her relationship with the Prince rather than salvage what she had with Arya. He strode boldly to Arya and took her hand. "No one will hurt you, Sis. And I won't let them hurt Mycah, either."

Jaime shook his head. "Clegane. You will not harm Arya Stark, nor the butcher boy. And you -" he turned to Joffrey. "You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, unless you want the kingdom to know that before your illustrious reign, you were defeated in a duel by a girl years younger than you. From now on, you will be practicing with Jon and I."

Joffrey had been beginning to cower, but now his eyes lit up. "Fine. I need to become a better warrior, anyways. One day, I will wield a hammer like my father and defeat even you, Uncle." He stalked off.