(Winterfell: 10/8/298 AC) Ursa IV

"Move your feet, Arya," she chastised the little wolf from Winterfell. The winds were cold, sweeping through the empty courtyard, with the sun still below the horizon. Jon and Brienne sparred nearby, while Jun meditated on a stone platform by the stables. "You're not a bender, don't plant yourself. Someone your size needs to conserve their energy, do not spend it with futile attacks," the girl shot forward, swiping at her feet with a wooden training sword, forcing her to sidestep the clumsy, though not entirely unskilled strike. "Dodge always, strike rarely, but effectively," she smacked Arya's rear with the flat of her own training sword, causing her to stumble forward, but not fall.


"Move! Be fluid in your strikes! Channel your power! Do not disappoint me!" Stern golden eyes surveyed her every action, finding inefficiency everywhere.


"Ouch!" Stark's youngest daughter rubbed her backside and frowned in disappointment. Arya arched her body, curved her arm back, and pointed the wooden weapon forward, her palm to the cross guard. One of the Fire Nation stances Lee had shown her, she had passed on to Arya. She resumed her own stance, aiming the point of the training sword down, and stretching her free arm up and outward, fingers pointing to the sky.

"Have your opponent move, have them exhaust themselves trying to get at you. Rest assured, Arya, any opponent you face will be far larger than you and will tire far faster. When the opportunity presents itself, attack, and do not grow overconfident." Her young friend scrunched her face, determined to take her down.


"Mother, I can't, please let me rest," her lungs burned, struggling to take in air. Her arms and legs ached, threatening the give out against her wishes.

"You'll keep going until you get it right!" the shadows cast by the blue flames hid her mother's face. "Your brother's failure has our people questioning the future of our leadership. Of my leadership!"


"Hyah!" Eddard Stark's youngest daughter shouted and charged forward, moving far more fluidly than she had been only months ago. As carefully and skillfully as the girl moved her sword, her moves were still painfully obvious.


"Pathetic! Again!" the flames flared, bathing the audience chamber in ominous azure light.


'Still,' she thought, dodging Arya's strike and countering with a tap on the shoulder. 'It's still a far cry from the bumbling northern girl I met a little over three years ago. She learns quickly.' Catching Arya as she strained forward, Ursa darted to the side, leaving her foot out, and using the girl's drive to cause her to trip and fall forward. "Do not overextend. Always leave yourself an avenue of escape, should your attack fail. Use the environment to your advantage. Like so," using the tip of her wooden weapon she flicked some snow onto the girl's chest.

The wolf girl looked down, shaking off the snow from her padded armor, before returning her gaze with a questioning look.

"It would not have taken me much to have sent the snow into your eyes, or cause the roof you are standing under, to have collapsed over you," she glanced up and saw Arya do the same. The girl looked at her and then realized the wooden supports surrounded her, and not herself.

"Your environment is as much a weapon as the sword in your hand," she spoke, the sounds of Jon and Brienne sparring still resonated in the background. Nymeria came around from behind her and lay down on the loose hay scattered along the training grounds. "You need only learn how to use it. Again."


"Ahhh! It stings! I can't see!" she stumbled along the floor, failing to rub the burning powder out of her eyes.

"Stop whining!" the room grew hot, and her sweat dripped down into her eyes, causing the powder to burn even more. "Your opponent will use whatever they can to end you. You must learn to fight with any and all handicaps that you may encounter! You will not embarrass me by dying to some barbarian who throws dirt in your face!"


Both combatants retook their stances and resumed their sparring session. This time, Ursa noted, the littlest northern lady became far more cautious. The wolf at Arya's side seemed to be more attentive than usual, casting a queer gaze to her as Arya stalked forward. Back and forth, the girl paced, hunched low and waiting for a time to strike. "Nymeria, you are of no help…" Arya smiled. A quick look to the wolf revealed only a yawn, before it lay its head down.


"Who did this?" his rough hands looked so graceful, tender, as he bandaged her scrapped knuckles.

"My training is difficult father, but I…" she fought off the tears in her eyes, not wishing for him to see her weakness.

"No! I will break words with your mother. This will end," his eyes had grown dark, furious.

"Please father! Do not confront mother. The training makes me stronger. I want to be strong," she pleaded, a single tear escaping from her eye. "Strong enough to make her, to make you proud of me."

"I am already proud of you Ursa, you needn't prove anything more," he grasped her face, and tenderly kissed her forehead.

"Please, father," she looked up into his dark blue eyes, the promise of safety only a word away. "Don't."


Ursa stepped back, analyzing her surroundings. 'Loose hay on the ground, piled logs, archery stands, nothing out of the ordinary.' She stepped lightly and measured her movements, her hair flowing in the breeze. A faint odor tickled her nose, indicating something rancid lay nearby. "What are you up to little wolf?"


"Mother? Will you train me now?" she stood by, watching her mother 'play' with the brat.

"Not now. Go with Chang," she replied, without so much as a glance in her direction.

She saluted, and walked away, hearing the words she had always wanted to hear directed towards another.

"Who's my little flame? You are! Yes, you are!"

"Gah! Burrb!" Ty Lee cooed.


"Nothing much," Arya smiled, inching forward, as the sounds of sparring between Jon and Brienne ceased. "You won't get mad if I knock you down right?"

The warning bells began ringing in the back of her mind, as she waited for Arya to attack, but no attack came. "If you did, I'd be proud of you," she couldn't help but smirk, realizing what the smell was and what the small Stark girl was doing. "Though I would most definitely not go easy on you the next time."

"Really?" Arya stepped forward, and Ursa retreated near the place where the girl wanted her to be.

"Really," she kept her face straight and saw Arya take the bait.


"Show no mercy to your enemy, princess…" Chang stood away, bowing in respect as their spar ended.

"I will remember that, instructor..."


The she-wolf struck forward, dodging to the right, as her own sword came down. 'Let me lead you, little girl,' she pursed her lips, struggling to keep her grin hidden. Arya slashed, and she let herself grow closer to the smelly warmth that resided near her feet. The upward slash came, causing her to draw her chest and head backward, the air of the swinging sword wafting over her face.

"Ugh!" a small foot connected with her stomach, and she keeled forward, grasping at her abdomen.

'Well done.' The following leg swipe came as she knew it would, intent on driving her back over the steaming pile. Instead of dodging the attack, she let it sweep her over, positioning her hands forward and using the momentum from her fall to wrap her legs around the girl and flip her over head first into the wolf shit. Arya's descent into the stinky mess was prevented by her own merciful hand. She held the underfoot's head inches away from her pet's droppings. "Be careful about using too much force, in your attacks, without concern for direction, or possible counter," she stood silent a moment, allowing the Stark girl to take in her advice. "That said, your little ploy was clever, but sometimes subtlety or lack thereof can mean the difference between success and failure."


"The match is over. I yield," her aged instructor lay at her feet, leg burned and broken, with his sole uninjured hand raised in defense.

"No. 'Show no mercy,' wasn't it? You will get up, and fight old man!" she stalked forward, and the man had curiously shown no fear, only cold indifference. This angered her, and she pressed forward, summoning a flame into her hand. "You will learn respect! You will learn that you are no longer the second best firebender in this world!"

"Ursa!" her mother's voice destroyed her resolve, and she stood down, hand hesitating only slightly.


"Okay, okay, let me up. Let me up!" Arya pleaded, her breath short and ragged.

She released her grip, watching as the girl rose and patted herself down, brushing some bit of snow off her leg.

"I'm glad you've taken to your lessons well. Perhaps next time you'll impress me enough to have me consider giving you a place on my personal guard?" Arya's eyes lit up, a smile growing on her young face.

"My father may require some convincing on that front," Jon stated, walking up to them as they rested.

"Besides, I am sure Lady Stark will require far more convincing than Lord Stark," Brienne supplied, rotating her left arm to relieve whatever tension she had built up during her spar with Jon.

The small wolf's face changed into a frown at Brienne's words. "Brienne? Please do not ruin this moment, and you didn't require much convincing," Arya replied, casting a knowing look towards Eddard Stark's bastard.

"I swore an oath to protect Ursa from harm, I swore an oath to House Baratheon of Dragonstone, before the lot of you revealed the truth to me," Jon shrugged, though a hint of annoyance shone in his eyes.

"It was necessary, as it was with me when I swore to Dragonstone. Most do not have the luxury of knowing the truth, for the simple reason…" Brienne started.

"That the greatest enemies of my house rule over the lands containing the former high seat of the Faith, and the Citadel itself. Both of which whose reach, power, and influence are far greater than it would outwardly seem," she seethed, understanding the need for secrecy, though annoying her nonetheless. "My mother has not been blind to the history of your people, Jon Snow. Not just the northerners, but Westeros. She understands what happens when foreigners arrive, with their strange gods, practices, or powers. Any, who threaten the stability of the established order, are met with fear and violence. First, it was the Children against the first men," she looked to Jon. "Your ancestors pursued a war of extermination until a measure of peace was achieved. Then the Andals came…"

"You forgot the Others," Arya chimed in, a sudden cool breeze accompanying her words.

"Yes, 'the Others.' Perhaps the greatest case for the necessity of secrecy my mother has against Westeros," she stated, adjusting the straps on her crimson training garb. "Ancient wildlings the tales of which whose nature has been greatly exaggerated out of proportion. To the point of being seen as demons." A ghost of an expression marred Arya and Jon's faces. "They were wiped out, or driven from the lands of 'normal' men. What does that say about your people, Jon Snow? When my people number in just over one thousand," she thought only on the benders. "And yours number in the millions, how could my mother afford the risk?" Once more she looked to Jun's beloved, "Tell me, when Jun revealed her flames to you what did you feel?"

The Bastard of Winterfell stood silent, before speaking. "I still cared for her," she saw him look towards Jun's small form, atop the stone platform, "but I was afraid."

"And how different would your reaction have been had you not known her?"

At that, her newest Flameguard remained in quiet contemplation. "I do not know," he finally said.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow. Know that my mother will reveal the truth, one day, when the Westrosi people have come to recognize us as no different from themselves," she reassured, before a dark thought entered her mind, 'I only pray that the revelation is not met with war, otherwise, Westeros would burn…'

Some light shuffling sounded out behind them, as Jun finally emerged from her meditation, and jogged towards them, an intensity in her eyes. The Grandmaster's daughter scanned the area to confirm they were alone before she spoke. "Your brother sends word from the capital," she whispered, looking at her, as they huddled together.

"Arya? Meet us in the great hall, we will be there shortly," the wolf girl appeared unsure before she raised her left fist and pounded her chest, nodding in acknowledgment. "What does my dear brother have to say?" she grumbled, watching as Arya skirted past the library tower and the old well until finally disappearing under the stone archway leading to the Great Hall.

"Lord Stark appears to have plans on heading to Dragonstone with the Fire Lord, and Steffon," Jun answered, clasping her hands behind her back, as she reported to her superior. A brief quirk of her brow marred her face for an instant, "Theon too, I suppose, but who cares about him?"

"My father?" Jon asked, as his right hand came to rest on her second smallest friend's shoulder. "Is he well?"

"He is, my love," Jun smiled slightly, glancing to Stark's bastard before returning to focus on her.

"Did he say what for?" Ursa raised her eyebrow in minor interest, bringing her arms to rest over her chest.

"'Urgent business,'" was all he said," Jun stated, looking around once more. "It also appears a company of a hundred benders, commanded by instructor Chi-Ha, will be sent to replace the Flameguard the Fire Lord will take with her."

She spared a glance to Jun, remembering the name, but never having been the woman's student.

"The instructor? Whatever is happening in the capital must be serious if your mother has roused Chi-Ha from Dragonstone," Brienne noted.

"Still nursing that bruise Brienne?" Jun stated, whispering something about the instructor into Jon's ear.

"Several bruises, in fact. However, I am not complaining, she was a good teacher," the tall woman from Tarth grunted.

"If you say so," Jun turned to continue her impromptu verbal report. "Anyways, the Imp is also on his way to King's Landing and Princess Myrcella is being sent to Casterly Rock with supposed plans of betrothing her to Ser Loras."

"To what end?" she wondered, head filled with reasons and possible plots. Her mother was never one to make such large moves or allow such large moves to happen, without cause, especially one that would risk exposure.

"As you have said, the Reach, and the Tyrells in particular, hate your parents, Ursa," Brienne stated plainly. "Perhaps it is merely a way to wed the Tyrell's closer to the crown and mend the injuries they suffered in the war?"

"Possibly, but you are forgetting one thing," Jun countered. "The Lannisters also hate the Fire Lord. She's overshadowed the Queen and Lord Tywin and more than one occasion. They may not outwardly show their disdain, but they could be planning to counter her influence within the court with this marriage. They might even go as far as replacing certain Small Council positions?"

"They could certainly try," she hissed, the torches surrounding them flared a moment before dying down. "Hmmm, but still," she relaxed, lifting her hand to her chin, and thinking on the time when her mother had come to Winterfell with the King.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Jun's light voice shook her out of her memories.

"Just remembering an odd occurrence, nothing more."

"What does Ursa Baratheon constitute as 'odd,' I wonder?" she pressed, flowery golden eyes focused on implacable molten ones.

She drew in deeply of the cool air, "When the King came to Winterfell after Lord Arryn's death. I was taken by my mother to train near the Broken Tower." A sharp intake of breaths awakened her to her Flameguards' distress. "Simple martial arts and breathing exercises, no bending," she reassured to mutual exhalations. "I expected nothing of interest to occur, but after were finished our first set my mother took me around to the entrance of the tower," she paced, chewing on her nail, as she spoke. "Where we saw the Queen and the Kingslayer emerging from within."

"What were they doing?" Jon questioned.

"I do not know, but the Queen did not look pleased," she answered truthfully. "Although," she paused, "I have a feeling my mother understood what had been transpiring in the tower to unsettle the Queen."

"My father does not think too highly of the Lannisters," Jon supplied, his expression growing grim. "Do you think my father and the Lady Azula have uncovered a Lannister plot?"

"That started in Winterfell? Possibly, and considering my mother's investment in the North, with Lyanna's Bay, and the Mormonts, and myself," she choked out the last. "I would say that if they have, she is trying to keep him safe by moving him out of the city."

"Why not tell the King, if they suspected anything? Why Dragonstone? King Robert is Lord Stark's best friend. Surely anything he would have to say would be accepted in King's Landing," Brienne's logic had been sound, though Jon thought differently.

"Whatever plot this may be, I do not believe my father would move on it unless he was absolutely sure."

"Then whatever evidence he needs will be on Dragonstone," she stated, confused on what lay hidden in her home that Lord Stark would need to know. 'Unless my mother wishes to reveal the truth about the bending?'

The winds whipped through the Courtyard, as they stood in silent contemplation.

"Seriously, what is with the Lannisters and plots?" Jun's voice rang out, shattering the quietness.