The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - VI

ARYADNE WANDERED THE HALLS ALONE. With more eyes around her than in Winterfell, she found that her options for passing the time had significantly lessened. It was time to venture out beyond the castle walls, she decided. No guards would allow her to do so. With years of experience, however, she could easily lose her watchers in the maze of the Red Keep's corridors and passageways.

That was how she found herself in the shadows of the courtyard, by a side gate. She was almost out, until she heard a familiar voice. "I want to see my father."

Two guards stood ahead, barring the way of a child covered head to toe in grime. They both snorted at the demand. "I want to fuck the Queen, for all the good it does me."

"You want your father, boy?" the other jeered. "He's lying on the floor of some tavern, getting pissed on by his friends."

"My father is Hand of the King! I'm not a boy, I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell. And if you lay a hand on me, my father will have both your heads on spikes."

She decided to approach, making herself known. "Is anything the matter?"

They both hurriedly turned, bowing so deeply she half expected them to lose their helmets. "Your Grace. What are you doing this far, and alone?"

"Never you mind. Who is this?"

"Just a beggar, get them all the time. Though never this fucking cocky." At a sharp look, the guard paled and bowed again. "Apologies."

Ignoring their warnings, she approached the child. Through the muck, she knew it was true. "Arya? Seven hells, look at the state of you! Come."

"But, Your Grace—"

"Speak not a word of this, unless you want my father to hear of how you spoke to the daughter of his closest friend." Ushering her on, she offered her netted shawl to wrap around her quivering shoulders, hiding her disarray from prying eyes. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Arya shook her head. "I was— I was following a cat and I got lost."

Her fussing continued as they entered the castle. "A cat?"

"Syrio said. I have to learn from them."

The name caught her interest. She quirked an eyebrow and mused to herself, "What, Syrio Forel? The Braavosi?"

Nodding, the girl hesitated before replying, "Father hired him... as my dancing instructor."

Aryadne was not stupid. She knew of Syrio's history, how he had once been the famed First Sword of Braavos. There was only one purpose for such an appointment. Knowing what little she did of Arya, it did not surprise her that she'd have an interest in the art of sword fighting. Nor that she'd convinced her father to allow her. He doted on his children to a bizarre degree.

—

Lord Stark jumped to his feet the moment the doors to his chamber opened. She didn't miss the way he tensed when he saw her there, so she smiled and guided Arya in. "Look who I found. She's unharmed, do not worry. I brought her straight here."

Allowing himself to breathe, he sat back down and leant heavily against the desk. "You know I had half my guard out searching for you?"

She remained quite, still shivering and clinging the shawl around her sodden clothes.

"You promised me this would stop."

Aryadne knew that she should leave them to discuss such things in private. Before she could turn, the girl spoke up. "They said they were going to kill you."

He stared at her, completely confused. To hear such words coming from his daughter was a shock, to say the least. But Aryadne could not afford to be so unaware. She rushed to close the doors, giving the sign for her handmaidens to wait outside. "Who did?" Lord Stark asked.