The early-morning chill had begun to recede, the castle yard buzzing with activity, as Podrick stood dutifully beside the lady and braced himself for the humiliation to come. Apparently, he'd be waiting a while for the drubbing to be administered on this day.

Lady Brienne was taking her time this morning. Already, she'd polished her sword to a blinding shine, then begun lazily stretching her overlong limbs.

Now she was yawning absently while watching the castle residents scurry about in their daily routines. The weeks-long journey on horseback back from Kings Landing had taken a toll on them both, it seemed.

Dead tired and famished, they'd arrived back at the castle only the evening before. They'd destroyed a half dozen chickens between them, then collapsed into the welcome comfort of their feather beds. Pod had slept like the dead a good ten hours, only waking when Lady Brienne had come pounding on his chamber door a full hour after dawn.

Scanning the castle yard in a way he imagined looked casual, the young squire stamped his feet and blew into his cupped hands, a morning ritual he'd adopted since first arriving at Winterfell.

The North had grown on him - recently it had grown on him anyway. But as a Westerlands man, he was certain he'd never get used to the pervasive chill.

"Shall we train with swords today?"

Podrick looked up at the sound of Lady Brienne's voice. She'd straightened up to full height and now loomed over him. Pulling freshly polished Oathkeeper from its sheath, the lady looked down at her squire expectantly.

"Does it matter, my lady?" Pod replied with an audible sigh, reaching for his steel. There was a hint of dejection in his voice.

"Don't pout, Podrick. It doesn't become you."

Podrick straightened up and faced the lady, attempting to look formidable. He wouldn't lose heart, he vowed silently, even if she bested him 30 days out of 30. Which was about how he could expect these training sessions to go.

"Yes, my Lady," he replied with resolve.

Squaring up before Lady Brienne, the young squire was flipping through his memory bank of maneuvers - grasping for anything that for once might surprise the lady - when out of the corner of his eye he spotted the person he'd been scanning the yard for minutes earlier.

On the edge of his peripheral vision, a slight figure in dark-colored leathers was making her way swiftly across the yard.

His training forgotten, Podrick jerked his head around and called out in her direction.

"Lady Arya!"

Her name had barely escaped his lips when the familiar sensation of a very large boot making contact with his chest sent Pod flying unceremoniously onto his backside. He skidded several feet into a diffuse pile of hay. Scrambling to his feet, Podrick glanced over his shoulder and tried to catch his breath.

The dark-haired figure was still moving away. If she'd heard him she wasn't letting on.

"Pay attention, Pod!" Lady Brienne scolded, a hint of amusement in her voice. "And to me," she added pointedly.

Podrick ignored her.

"Lady Arya!" he called out again across the yard, unfazed.

Before the boot of shame could descend upon him again, the squire dropped his sword and scampered after the girl who'd now stopped moving and turned around to face him.

"What have I told you about dropping your weapon in the dirt, Podrick!" Lady Brienne boomed from behind him, her amusement long gone.

Ahead of him, he could see the girl taking all of this in with mild amusement as Podrick raced up to her. He stopped dead in his tracks about five feet short of her, suddenly feeling foolish.

"Lady Arya?" he said for a third time. He could feel his cheeks going red and hoped the cold would quickly dispel the heat he could detect coming off of his face.

"Just Arya is fine," the girl replied rather pleasantly.

Pod exhaled and smiled at her, feeling relieved. "Yes, my lady .. I mean .." he hesitated.

Lady Arya smiled. "It's fine." She looked at him expectantly.

Pod composed himself. He'd been wanting to speak to the younger Stark girl since shortly after she'd arrived at the castle. Only recently had he worked up the nerve to do so.

"You sparred with Lady Brienne here in the yard. After you came home to Winterfell," Podrick said to her, stating the obvious.

"I did," Arya affirmed.

"You were- It was- impressive," Podrick said with a sizable grin.

"Thanks."

The girl was looking at him with a detached cordiality.

"She's training me to fight. Lady Brienne."

"I've noticed. That's wonderful."

"It is.. She's been training me for months and months, years maybe." Podrick paused. He hadn't realized it had been that long they'd been training together. "But when we fight-" he continued.

".. Well, she destroys me is usually what happens."

Podrick resisted the urge to hang his head and tried not to look as discouraged as he felt.

"She's good," the girl across from him observed, looking faintly amused by his admission.

"She is. But you..You're half her size. Yet when you sparred with her-"

"There are ways to compensate for a size disadvantage."

"See, that..that's what I was hoping!" Podrick felt relief wash through him. There's hope.

"I'm on the shorter side like you," he continued. "So I was thinking. I was hoping. I was wondering-" The young squire could feel the hot blush returning to his face as he stammered at her.

"You'd like me to spar with you and give you some tips," Lady Arya finished for him mercifully.

"Yes! Yes! If it wouldn't be too much trouble..uh..Arya."

The girl looked him over appraisingly. Podrick tried not to squirm under her gaze and willed the remainder of his blush away.

"Are you free after breakfast tomorrow?" she asked him finally.

"I am!.. I can be anyway."

The girl nodded. "We'll meet out here then."

"That's..that's wonderful! Thank you so much, Arya."

She nodded, smiling at him now. "It's Podrick, right?"

"Yes! Podrick Payne. Uh, Pod."

Arya's dark eyes narrowed. Her smile disappeared.

"Any relation to Ilyn Payne?" she asked coolly.

Podrick hung his head. He'd had a feeling this conversation was coming from the moment he'd first landed at Winterfell. He hoped he was ready for it.

"My cousin, unfortunately," he confessed to his shoes. "He's a distant cousin," he added.

"Your cousin 'unfortunately'?"

"My father used to say he'd become a disgrace to the family name, Ser Ilyn."

Podrick looked up at the petite unsmiling girl, an earnestness in his face.

"After what he did to your Lord father, my lady, a man who was innocent. What he would have done to your sister-"

"My sister?"

Arya had stepped closer to him. Her expression was intense, her dark eyes blazing.

"What about Ser Ilyn and my sister?" she asked.

Podrick paused, dreading her reaction. He spoke slowly, avoiding her eyes. "Ser Ilyn was under orders to.. uh.. kill Lady Sansa if the Battle of the Blackwater ended in defeat."

Across from him, the younger Stark sister listened intently. She was shorter than he was and thin in build, but she looked ferocious.

"I served Lord Tyrion, my lady," Pod said earnestly. "I served Lord Tyrion, and I want you to know that he was appalled by how your sister was treated in Kings Landing. I was appalled, also. He protected her many times, Lord Tyrion did-"

"He protected Sansa from what in Kings Landing?"

Arya had moved another step closer to him. Her tone was demanding.

Pod hesitated, not wishing to cause a girl who'd already suffered so much loss any more pain. But it was clear in her demeanor, this slight dark wolf meant to get an answer.