Arya

"It's a trap," Arya said. "Lord Tywin's letter. It has to be."

"I know," her mother said. "He knows I have no power to give him anything he wants. He'd take me prisoner the moment I arrived. Does he really think I'm that stupid?"

"He's desperate," said Edmure. "That's a good sign."

"He's going to lose in the North, even if somehow they managed to get to Winterfell the other houses would prevent them from doing anything. The whole thing is just a ruse to try and... to try and get me to go to Casterly Rock."

"What would taking you prisoner accomplish?" Arya asked. "What would he trade you for? He has no interests in the North, so he would want something from Father."

"Probably a pardon for his children," her mother said. "Your father would ask the king, if I was held prisoner, but Lord Tywin has to know the king would never agree to that."

"It doesn't matter anyway," said Edmure. "You're not going to go to see him, the issue in the North will be resolved quickly, the Boltons will be eliminated... what could he have possibly promised them that would make them this stupid?"

"Power," said Catelyn. "The Boltons have tried to overthrow the Starks time and time again for centuries. This time they had the backing of the most powerful man in Westeros. And he still is. Even with his children in danger, even with his daughter no longer the queen, he still has enough money and support to do a lot of damage."

"But not in the North," said Arya.

The meeting was adjourned, and Arya followed her mother back to her chambers. "Mother... I think you should go."

Her mother looked sharply at her. "You think I should walk right into a trap?"

"No. I think you should set one of your own."

"And how, exactly, would I do that?"

"Take a secret weapon with you."

"What secret weapon?"

"Me."

She looked stunned for a moment, then said, "Arya, you're just a girl."

"I'm not, and you know that. I can fight. I'm good at it. I can kill. If you take me with you to see Tywin Lannister, maybe I could take him out."

"That's a very dangerous plan."

"He'll have men with him, it's true. But Nymeria can take care of that. And I can get Lord Tywin. He'll never expect it."

"I don't know..."

"He may not be able to take the North, but he'll be a thorn in our side forever. We have a chance to end it. Let me try."

Catelyn took a deep breath and looked into her daughter's eyes. "Alright."

Sansa

Sansa put on her best smile as she walked up to Renly Baratheon. "Lord Renly," she said with a smile.

"Lady Sansa. I was sorry to see your brother leave the capital, he's a very energetic young man."

"He is," Sansa agreed. "He was pleased to squire for Ser Loras, as well. What a coincidence that his previous squire died just after we arrived, is it not?"

"Indeed," said Renly. "Poor boy. Loras thought maybe his grandmother was somehow behind it. What a silly notion. What would she stand to gain?"

Sansa took note of that. Olenna Tyrell. She had thought it too obvious, but maybe it wasn't. She had been trying to ensure an alliance between the Tyrells and the Starks, but for what? An alliance between the North and the Reach, that spanned the whole country. Perhaps she was planning another rebellion. But for now, at least, Margaery was going to be queen, and if they had been planning to overthrow Robert they wouldn't anymore. She thought about Daenerys, across the Narrow Sea. What was she doing now? She had probably hatched her dragons by this point. There were so many plots in motion, all over the world, and there was no way she and Arya could deal with them alone. She didn't know if Arya had told anyone the truth, but she was going to have to tell her father. She just needed to wait for the right moment to do so. And in the meantime, she had to increase their political standing as much as she could.

"Lord Renly," she said, "Whose idea was it to have Bran squire for Loras?"

"Oh, it was mine," Renly said. "I thought it would be good for House Tyrell and House Stark to ally. Of course, at the time I also thought House Stark and House Baratheon might be allied by marriage. Now we know Joffrey's not even a Baratheon."

"True. But House Stark and House Baratheon could still ally by marriage."

"In what way?"

She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

"You're not suggesting-"

"My lord, it would be improper of me to suggest anything."

"But you're implying-"

"Really, Lord Renly, I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Right. Well, good day, Lady Sansa."

"Good day to you as well."

Smiling to herself, she walked away. Then she found Varys. "Lord Varys."

"Lady Sansa."

"Apparently Loras suspects his grandmother of the poisoning."

"Yes, it does seem the most logical option, doesn't it? She knew Renly would suggest Loras choose Bran as his squire, she could ally your houses without having to surrender one of her marriageable grandchildren."

"Then who does she marry Loras to?"

"I'm sure she has her plans."

"I wonder how much Margaery knows."

"I imagine we will learn in time. Or perhaps you will."

She smiled. "Perhaps I will."

Bran

Bran sighed as he got off his horse to make camp for the third night in a row. He hated that he'd been forced to leave the capital, and he hated traveling in disguise on the Kingsroad. And off it, at times, so they wouldn't be seen. Was Tywin Lannister really going to send men to try and kill him? It seemed ridiculous, if he so much as lay a finger on Bran, the king would have his head. He couldn't really be trying to take Winterfell, the whole thing was a trick of some kind, Bran didn't know too much about the Lannisters, but he knew they were good at tricks.

When the camp had been made, he sat with the two men by the fire and ate his soup. He was getting very tired of soup. Then he went into the tent and went to bed, his wolf curling up beside him.

This isn't right, Brandon, said the voice.

What do you mean?

You know this isn't right. This isn't how it's meant to be. Someone has meddled with time.

Who are you? What are you talking about?

Winter is coming, and you must be prepared for it. You must fix what has gone wrong.

What's gone wrong? What do you mean?

An image flashed through his head. It was his father, in front of a crowd. He was kneeling down, and then... and then a sword came down and Bran's eyes snapped open.

He was sweating, he realized, and his wolf was beside him, watching him with a curious expression. "Summer," said Bran, for suddenly he knew the name he had not been able to pick. How had it come to him? What was that voice? What was that image, that image it had shown him? Was it real? The future? Had it already happened and he just didn't know? No, it couldn't have. It couldn't be real, he would know if it was. He shook under the covers as he tried to go back to sleep, but the voice still haunted him.

Winter is coming...