Westeros was beautiful. At least it was to Youmu. It was so different compared to the sights and sounds of Gensokyo that it was almost overwhelming for the gardener once the king's caravan finally left Winterfell, and reminded her a little bit of Europe from pictures she'd seen.

The journey had gone on for about two weeks as they traversed through the marshy swamps of The Neck after passing Moat Cailin, but had cleared up as they made their way down the Kingsroad alongside the Green Fork and came to the Ruby Ford.

Horse riding was rough, at least if you were inexperienced like Youmu. Her thighs ached daily, and had blisters and bruising after particularly harsh rides through The Neck, but at least they were at the halfway point, right? The entourage could probably make it to King's Landing a day or two faster if they weren't spending so much time here at the Ford. That wasn't Youmu's call though, and she was actually appreciative of the break.

The gardener dipped her feet into the chilly waters of the Ruby Ford with a low sigh. The feeling on her sore feet was comforting, and she soon dozed off on the grassy shore while basking in the Summer sun beating down on her frame. She was only awakened by the rough tongue of a direwolf licking all over her face.

It shocked her enough to cause her to jump up and look down at the mess of fur and dirt. Ah, it's Nymeria. Arya's wolf wagged its tail while staring up at the half-pint girl who had a disapproving look on her face.

"Come on pup," Youmu leaned down. "Where's your owner?" She asked curiously before the wolf darted behind her and to a small couple standing by the riverbed about fifty yards from her. The gardener frowned before putting her socks and shoes back on to go greet the pair.

"Lady Konpaku!" Arya shouted with a laugh and a smile on her face as the half-phantom approached her and her friend, Mycah. Upon arriving, Youmu looked a little stunned at the boy standing next to the young Stark girl.

"It seems your wolf found me napping and deemed me nice enough to only lick." She sounded a tad annoyed, despite the smile on her face.

"My apologies, Lady Konpaku. She got away from me when I wasn't looking." Arya chuckled nervously before huffing and moving the wolf pup to the side. "Mycah and I were just trying to find some rubies in the river from Rhaegar's armor while…" The last of Arya's words were lost as the girl muttered.

Youmu shook her head. "Speak up. You two were obviously doing something else." She motioned to the fact that the two kids had sticks in their dominant hands.

"W-well we were just going to practice fighting swords is all! Please don't tell my father…" Arya pleaded to the gardener who now had her hands on her hips.

"Oh." Youmu was a bit surprised, and wasn't quite sure how to react at first. Arya had expressed an interest in learning swordplay from her when she was training, but hadn't been approached since. She just figured that the young girl lost interest, but evidently that wasn't the case.

"I mean, I don't see why not. Were you planning to go easy on him?" The phantom snorted and glanced at the red-headed boy who was quite clearly a man-grown, and who should really have no trouble planting Arya back on her ass.

"Of course I was!" Arya then pulled her stick up at the ready as Youmu took a few steps back to observe the kids' fight.

It really wasn't much more than a smattering and clattering of two sticks together. Arya had no technique to speak of, and while Mycah clearly was mimicking several moves and strikes he'd seen from experienced knights, he had no idea how to really blend them together into a proper form. The sight was adorable to Youmu, and was too precious for her to really split up when it was just some kids going at each other like gallant heroes in a vicious battle.

Arya, a scrawny thing in soiled leathers, was dodging and managing to get her stick in the way of most of the boy's blows, but not all. When she tried to lunge at him, he caught her stick with his own, swept it aside, and slid his wood down hard on her fingers. She cried out and lost her weapon.

Youmu was about to congratulate the boy on a job well-done when a shrill laughter caught the trio's attention. Mycah's eyes went wide with embarrassment while Arya glared at the source of the laughing as she suckled on her knuckles to dull the pain,

It was Prince Joffrey, accompanied by a very horrified Sansa Stark. "Arya?" She asked incredulously.

"Go away," Arya shouted back at them, angry tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here? Leave us alone."

Joffrey kept his humored expression as he and Sansa made their way to the trio. "Your sister?" Sansa merely blushed and nodded along. Joffrey examined the boy, an ungainly lad with a coarse, freckled face and thick red hair. "And who are you, boy?" he asked in a commanding tone that took no notice of the fact that the other was a year his senior, or that a half-phantom woman was standing with the two children.

Youmu cleared her throat, which alerted the prince to her presence for the first time. "Lady Ghost." Joffrey dipped his head in a mock bow of respect, which earned him a small growl of irritation. Was he drunk?

"Mycah," the boy muttered. He recognized the prince and averted his eyes. "M'lord."

"He's the butcher's boy," Sansa said.

"He's my friend," Arya said sharply. "You leave him alone."

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, is it?" Joffrey swung down from his mount, sword in hand. "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy," he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "Let us see how good you are."

Youmu frowned once more and stepped forward. "The two were just playing, my lord. There'll be no attempt to see how good the boy is."

Now it was Joffrey's turn to frown as he turned his sword in Youmu's direction. If the gardener was intimidated by the action, she didn't show it. "What did you say, woman?"

"I said there won't be a demonstration for how "good" the boy is." Her tone was adamant, and now her arms were crossed over her chest. "The two were playing, my lord, nothing more."

"He was striking my betrothed's sister! He needs to be taught a lesson, my lady." Joff turned back to Mycah and pressed the tip of his sword into the boy's cheek hard enough to draw a bead of crimson. "Besides, I won't hurt him...much."

Youmu took a step to intervene, but Arya was faster with her stick. The child swung her stick hard enough to crack it against the back of Joffrey's head. A yelp of pain escaped the boy as Mycah took off as fast as his legs could carry him into the woods.

"Stop it, don't, stop it!" Sansa screamed. Joffrey slashed at Arya with his sword, screaming obscenities, terrible words, filthy words. Arya darted back, frightened now, but Joffrey followed, hounding her toward the woods, backing her up against a tree. Sansa didn't know what to do. She watched helplessly, almost blind from her tears.

Youmu moved with a burst of speed alongside Nymeria, and tackled the boy prince to the ground. The direwolf went for Joffrey's sword arm and thrashed about to get the sword torn from the prince's hand. "Arya!" She called out angrily at the girl, who quickly recalled the direwolf while picking up the prince's fallen sword.

The gardener got up too as Joffrey whimpered pathetically and clutched his wounded arm, but had enough time to send a hate-filled glare Youmu's way.

"She didn't hurt you...much." Arya said with a smirk as she moved to pick up Joffrey's fallen blade and point it at the downed boy with both hands on the hilt. Youmu shot the kid a look as she made her way to disarm the Stark girl next.

"No," he whimpered, "don't hurt me. I'll tell my mother."

Sansa yelled something incoherently to the pair looming over her beloved prince as Arya stepped back, and with all the strength her little body could afford, hurled the weapon as hard as she could into the Ruby Ford before Youmu could pry it out of her hands. This caused Youmu to frown even more than she already had before turning back and rushing to Joffrey's side to examine the wound.

Arya ran to the nearby horse she arrived on and galloped off with Nymeria running at her side, and she was out of sight completely once she made it to the treeline.

"Damnit…" Youmu trailed off as she pulled back Joffrey's sleeve to check the damage. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that while the wound was bleeding, it wasn't fatal or severe. But man would it leave a nasty scar that the boy would remember for the rest of his life.

Sansa knelt beside him. "Joffrey," she sobbed. "Oh, look what they did, look what they did. My poor prince. Don't be afraid. I'll ride to the holdfast and bring help for you." Tenderly she reached out and brushed back his soft blonde hair.

The prince snapped to life and jerked his arm away from Youmu while glaring nothing but the purest of hatred at his betrothed. "Then go," he spat at Youmu next. "And don't touch me."


"You let my son get attacked by a direwolf?" Cersei was nearly screeching hot venom at the half-phantom, "and then you let his attackers just run away?!"

"Your son's injuries were first on my mind to tend to as best I could. I didn't think Arya or the boy would get so far…" Youmu trailed off as her eyes glanced out of the tent. It was now evening and both Stark and Lannister men were out searching along both sides of the river in hopes of finding the two kids.

"Well obviously you thought wrong!"

"As did your son when he threatened a boy with a sword."

If the queen's look could kill, Youmu'd be a fully-dead gardener, but her stance was unwavering, especially when Robert piped up to shut down whatever Cersei was about to say.

"That's enough now, woman!" He turned to Youmu. "Thanks for making sure my son won't bleed to death because of his own stupidity, but now you must go and help find Arya and her friend."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear, but if the Lannister men found the pair first then things could end badly for them, which also isn't what she wanted.

Youmu sighed and bowed. "How may I assist, Your Grace?"

"The Hound is riding out soon. You'll join him."

Sandor Clegane. The Hound. Joffrey's sworn sword and bodyguard. While Youmu had to do her best to suppress the laughter that rose in her throat every time she saw the man's ridiculous custom helmet shaped like a dog's head, she cringed when she gazed upon his burned and deformed face. The first time she saw it back at Winterfell, she was horrified! Who or what would do such a thing to another human being?

The gardener took a breath, sighed once more, and bowed in compliance. "As you wish, Your Grace." She even offered a curtsy to the queen on her way out of the tent, though the other woman only sent a glare of death from those emerald green orbs.

Once back out into the cooling night air, she noticed that tents were being torn down and wagons were being loaded. Ah. They must've been moving operations to a better area to conduct the search. She looked over her mental map of Westeros, and the only friendly Keep in the area would've been Darry, even though Robert would probably only use "friendly" in the sense of "not going to openly rebel against the Crown" sort of way.

Ser Raymun Darry was the lord of the castle the caravan was going to, and they would not be welcome guests. Darry's family fought under Rhaegar's banners at the Trident fourteen years ago, and lost three older brothers. A truth that most likely was not forgotten by either Robert or Raymun, which would give cause for both Stark and Lannister men to find Arya and Mycah quickly.

Politics and the like made Youmu's head hurt, so much so that she pinched the bridge of her nose before she mounted her horse and linked up with Clegane.

The tall man wasn't wearing his helmet, and Youmu just so happened to ride on his left side, his burned side. The gardener glanced upward at him and suppressed a cringe as she got a look at the twisted mess of scars around his left eye, the hint of bone on his jaw, lack of lips on the left, and gross burning down the length of his neck.

She took a breath after checking to make sure her swords were secured to her side. The girl then addressed Clegane. "Are you ready to depart, ser?"

The man was silent for a minute before he spat on the ground between the two horses and replied. "I'm no ser, girl. Just Sandor or Clegane is fine enough, or Hound if you prefer." His voice was gravely and hoarse, and reminded Youmu of a low-crackling fire.

"Clegane it is, my lord. Shall we go?"

"Aye, we shall." And off they went in the direction of the last Lannister search party.

They rode for a while. Hours, judging by the moon having risen to be high overhead, and the ache in Youmu's belly for food. She called out for both Arya and Mycah every fifteen minutes the deeper they got into the thick forests on the south side of the Ruby Ford, though once she realized that her high-pitched callouts were annoying the Hound, she only called out every thirty minutes. Finally, she stopped calling altogether and just seemed content to listen to the clip-clopping of the horses on the grassy earth below them.

"You ever had to search for someone this long, Lady Ghost?" Sandor finally broke the silence as he slowed his horse to a stop. Youmu followed suit and raised an eyebrow at the question.

"Not quite, no. But I'd have a bird's eye view of the land where I'm from, and wouldn't need to trudge through dense forest like this."

"Bird's eye view? You mean that you'd be flyin'?"

"Of course. It's how most magical people get around. Riding horses is generally reserved for non-magical beings."

"You mean humans." He turned to her as the left corner of his mouth twitched from the burns.

"...Yes," she started, "but I don't mean that in an insulting manner, Clegane."

"I think you're full'o'shit, Lady Ghost." He spat again, "ain't no one can fly, not even a freak like you."

That took her aback. Freak? It was actually the first time someone called her that in quite a while. "I-freak?" Youmu blinked several times before she glanced up to Sandor with a frown. "I'm not a freak! I'm just...different."

"Different like me. A freak. One with half of his fuckin' face burnt, and the other with her soul outside of her body, floating around everything like a lost pet." He laughed a terrible laugh, like a hundred hungry dogs barking and woofing at a master for food.

Her eyes shot a glare at Clegane and the grip on the reins of her horse tightened. "I am not a freak!" She shouted in return as her phantom half hovered silently next to her body as if reflecting its owner's anger to the burnt man. "A freak is an outcast of society. An abomination that shouldn't exist," she was circling him now, "someone or something that has something that isn't a part of the natural order of things."

"Like your soul being on the outside of your body eh, freak?"

She paused, nostrils visibly flaring. "We should keep moving." Youmu broke off the conversation and resumed trotting through the forest in search of the two children while hearing the odd chuckle and snort of amusement from the Hound behind her.


They searched through the night, and while the other search parties returned to Darry to rest up for another day, Youmu and Sandor either weren't feeling fatigued, or weren't willing to speak to the other after the brief argument they had. Luck would soon shine on the pair though as they heard rustling to their right.

"Mycah? Arya?" Youmu called out loudly for whomever was in the bushes, hoping it was one, or both, of the kids. Worry wracked her body as she hoped that no harm came to the two. She felt like she should've gone after them to keep them both from running off. Youmu's grip on the reins tightened as she forced her horse to move towards the bushes.

Sandor pulled his blade from its sheath and held it in his right hand while also advancing. Suddenly, a figure darted out of its hiding spot and took off further into the woods. Youmu's eyes narrowed and looked a bit more intently at the figure, and breathed a sigh of relief once she saw that it was Mycah. But the Hound was faster when it came to the pursuit. He kicked his horse into a full gallop after the boy with Youmu close behind.

"Slow down, Clegane! We only need to bring him back to the camp!" She called out, only for her words to fall on deaf ears. Her horse got closer and closer to the man's so she could head him off and keep him from potentially harming the redhead. However, what happened next shocked and horrified her.

Not only did the Hound run Mycah down, but he also swung his sword into the midsection of the boy! A cry of pain left Mycah's lips as he fell, tumbled along the ground face-first, and went still. Youmu let out a horrified cry and hopped off her horse quickly to tend to the boy in the hopes of saving him. Her eyes shot to Sandor who was laughing at how easy it was to catch their target.

"Didn't run very fast now, did 'e?" The Hound chuckled as he sheathed his sword. Youmu's eyes narrowed and a growl left her mouth as she took several steps forward to be right up to Sandor's horse. Then, with a sudden and violent shove, she actually tipped both the horse and rider right onto their sides!

Laughter turned into yells of surprise, hate, and pain. A crunch was heard as Sandor's horse seemed to break the man's leg, which caused him to let out a howl of pain while he tried to get out from under the beast and nurse his leg. He was spewing vile words and curses at Youmu as she had drawn her sword. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid foreign whore?!" He shouted.

The gardener pointed the tip of her blade at the man's face while her foot pressed on the horse, which miraculously kept the beast and man pinned down. Fear flashed in Sandor's eyes as he realized that Youmu was doing this with just the strength of one leg.

"If I were a lesser woman, I'd kill your horse and let you walk back to camp, but that would be cruel, and you have a job to do that doesn't involve running down and murdering innocent boys," she growled, "but your beast is innocent, so I'll make sure you're able to get back in a timely manner."

A crunch is then heard, followed by the horse neighing loudly. Youmu then took her foot off the horse after making sure to break a rib or two of the animal. She turned to Mycah and ran back to his side. Her eyes moved all over his body while a grimace formed on her face. Gods, this was horrible. Mycah was split open at the midsection, and had his innards spilling out that the poor boy was trying to keep in despite the amount of blood he was losing.

"I-it hurts, m'lady…" Mycah trailed off as his voice was nothing but a whisper. Tears welled in Youmu's eyes as a hand pressed down on the wound while the other moved through his messy red hair.

"I-I wish I could help you…" She muttered as the warm lifeblood flowed freely onto his hands, her hand, and the grass beneath them. "I-You...you'll be safe soon, Mycah."

His grip on his waist loosened more and more until it went limp altogether. Mycah's eyes dulled as they lifelessly gazed up at the bristling trees in the morning breeze. Youmu was silent for several minutes as a ringing filled her ears that drowned out even the howling and cursing of Sandor Clegane who was doing his best to nurse his broken leg. She just stared blankly down to the boy of thirteen years who was just beginning to experience life...and now had the rest of it cruelly stolen from him by the whim of an evil, violent man.

Youmu did her best to compose herself despite the tears that were running down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes, took a few heavy breaths, and stood up. The gardener grabbed a cloak from her horse and wrapped the boy's body in it before mounting him on the back of her ride. She climbed back up into the saddle and shot one last look to Clegane who was waving his sword in the air. "I hope you have a pleasant ride back, Clegane." Youmu then turned around and trotted off back to Darry.

When she arrived, it was early evening. The soldiers of Ser Raymun shot her a look of apprehension and leveled their spears at her. Youmu held a hand up. "I'm with the King's search parties." They looked at each other, clearly apprehensive about letting such a strange woman into their castle, but two Lannister guards who were with them vouched for her, and so she was let in.

Youmu caught sight of Lord Stark as she was riding past the fearful and judgemental eyes of bystanders. "Lord Stark," she addressed him with a dip of her head.

The man looked to the back of her horse and noticed the wrapped body, as well as Youmu's bloody hand. "You ran him down.". He said with anger rising in his voice.

"The Hound did."

"And where is he?"

"Probably limping back to us as we speak." Her words were like ice as cold tears formed in her eyes once again, "I'm...sorry that I wasn't able to save him. Is your daughter safe?"

"Safe, yes, but far from happy."

"Then this is news that isn't going to improve her mood…" Youmu trailed off and looked away from the man for a brief moment before she continued, "I will tell her."

"She is my daughter." Stark replied, "I will tell her. You should get cleaned up and put some food in your belly."

"Yes, my lord." Youmu knew better than to argue at this point due to her own emotional state, and she was definitely hungry and tired. The gardener parked her horse and had one of the Stark men take care of the butcher's son's body.

She didn't dare look at the sobbing Arya and Sansa as she trudged into the tent she was sharing with the two daughters, and instead collapsed right into the bed she'd grown accustomed to sleeping in. Hungry, tired, and angry, the half-phantom drifted off to a dreamless sleep while the scene of the boy's death played over and over in her mind.

It was the first time she saw a boy die.


Two weeks was a long time to say nary a word, but not having anything to say helps keep one's self-imposed vow of silence. Youmu, Sansa, and Arya barely said much of anything beyond courtesies and honorifics, and the day after she collapsed in her bed, Youmu learned just what the two girls went through.

Sansa lost Lady, her direwolf, to the queen's orders due to not having Arya's wolf in its place, was killed and its body was sent to Winterfell to keep it out of Cersei's hands.

Arya of course lost her friend to Sandor Clegane, and apparently forced her own direwolf to run off deep into the woods to keep it away from the queen's vengeance.

The gardener was tired, exhausted, and worried the entire time the caravan traveled down the King's Road, but her interest was piqued when they moved out of Darry and down past White Walls and were within sight of Harrenhal and the Gods Eye. As Youmu rode past the locations in question, she felt a strange sense of rejuvenation. It was as if magic filled her veins once more if only for a minute. The feeling was fleeting, but it was there. It was odd.

The Gods Eye was a lake that contained the Isle of Faces, an island that had the largest concentration of faced weirwoods. It was the place where the First Men and the Children of the Forest ended their war many millennia ago, so Youmu figured that it could've been a hotspot for magic at some point in time.

Harrenhal was massive, incredible, and the largest castle in Westeros. It was as if it was made for giants rather than humans, and it burned beneath the powerful and fearsome dragonfire Aegon the Conqueror had at his disposal. The stone, along with Harren, the castle's owner, melted and burned to become nothing but a husk that was much too large to properly garrison and eventually had rumors that it was haunted.

Dragons are said to be Fire Made Flesh, so Youmu hypothesized that the very fire itself had magical properties, and things touched by them had residual energy. She, however, wouldn't know unless Youmu actually visited Harrenhal.

Though those two weeks had now passed, and on the horizon was King's Landing, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Youmu gazed at the Red Keep from afar and took in a breath. The castle, as well as the entire city itself, was truly breathtaking.

Even from a hill overlooking the city, Youmu saw several landmarks aside from the Red Keep. She saw the gate they were about to go into, the Dragon Gate, along with the silent looming menace of the ruins of the Dragonpit, which rested on the Hill of Rhaenys. The latter had shut its own gates over a hundred years ago when the last dragons died, which left it to rot and wither away from age and lack of upkeep.

Thankfully, they didn't travel along the road South of the Dragonpit, which included the slum of Fleabottom, a location Youmu had no desire to visit in her weary state. The North road of the Dragonpit was much more pleasant, and had a much better smell, even if the city overall smelled like feces and dirt.

The aroma of boiled, grilled, and roasted food assaulted her nostrils as her horse clopped along the cobbled road, which caused her to let out a small, hungry sigh. The appeal of a full, hearty meal with greasy, dribbling meat appealed to the short gardener, but at the same time, she knew that she needed to get situated in the Red Keep.

As the caravan reached an intersection that would lead them closer to Aegon's High Hill, where the Red Keep was located, Youmu caught sight of some sort of establishment that had a simple name: Chataya's. She was at first curious at what it was, but the sight of beautiful women, the sight of their exposed breasts, and various men and soldiers with the caravan gazing longingly at them sated her curiosity.

She quickly looked away from the brothel as her pale cheeks flushed a rather vibrant pink hue. Oh, right. Those existed, and were rather prominent here in Westeros. She knew of one, maybe two such establishments in Gensokyo's human village, but she was never on the side of town that they were, and thus never saw if they were as open with their forms as the ladies here. The gardener didn't hate those who worked in brothels or those who reaped the benefits of visiting one, but she personally found the trade abhorrent and degrading beyond all imagination. That, and she was worth way more than whatever the highest-priced whore was in Chataya's.

After they turned left, they traveled until they reached the Street of the Sisters, and then finally Main Street which took them all the way to the imposing Red Keep.

All this time, Youmu grew more and more anxious and nervous from the amount of staring she was getting from the smallfolk and even the City Guard. She knew why, of course. She was a pale, almost corpse-like girl with snow-white hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a near translucent floating white mass that followed her everywhere she went. It was easy to understand why everyone, including lords and ladies, would be wary or even afraid of her.

She wasn't going to let who she was ruin any friendships or alliances she may form while here, and if the Stark family and Baratheon king was any indication, others would be willing to look past Youmu's...obvious differences.

"Here we are, Lady Konpaku." Eddard Stark spoke up as he pulled up his horse beside Youmu's.

"King's Landing is...very beautiful, Lord Stark." She replied after a smile formed in her lips. "This is the first large city I've visited like this, and it's very impressive."

"It certainly catches you off guard the first time you see it." Eddard said as he dismounted his horse.

Youmu did the same before she smoothed her skirt out and adjusted her swords on her left side. "I just wish the ride wasn't so…"

"Awful?"

"Hah. Yes." She snorted before her gaze moved up to settle upon the Red Keep and the seven massive drum towers that were capped with iron ramparts. If Remilia Scarlet were to have a castle, this would be it. Youmu thought while making her way up the steps to the stable gate after her horse had been led away by one of the Keep's servants.

Before she could open the gate herself, a man did so for her and approached the small gardener with a nervous twitch in his step. "L-lady Ghost." He bowed respectfully, though Youmu saw the fear in his eyes. "Come with me, and I'll show you to your room."

Good. It'll be nice to rest my feet and legs from all this damn riding. Youmu thought as she followed behind the keep's servant with her hands behind her back and her phantom half sticking close to her.

The pair walked through the red halls of the castle silently with Youmu's gaze being directed to the various windows she walked by every ten feet. That feeling crept up through her veins and her spine once more the longer she was in the Red Keep. Is this a place where magic was particularly strong? The gardener rubbed her chin while she instinctively flexed her biceps from the sensation of...almost feeling as though she could fly again. She wouldn't try it of course, but the urge was there.

I'll have to try out some simple spells when I'm alone. Youmu thought once more as it seemed their destination was now within eyesight. She glanced around and it seemed as though she had been placed near some kind of meeting or conference room, which she thought was an odd choice.

"Your room, my lady." The servant opened the door and stepped to the side to motion Youmu inside. "I do hope you don't mind being placed near the council chamber. His Grace the king thought it would be convenient for you so you can give updates on your quest to return to the Land of the Dead." He bowed once more and departed when Youmu fully stepped into her room.

More like where I can be watched and listened upon, I'm sure. She was certain that the king's Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, and the Master of Whispers, Varys, would take a very peculiar interest in her.

Youmu stepped inside the room and nodded in approval at the layout. A small hearth to the north of the room with a small, but rather spacious bed, to the left, and a wardrobe in the corner next to the hearth. She moved to close the door, but found a man standing behind it! The gardener jumped and pulled her wakizashi out and pointed it at him in surprise.

A small yelp left her mouth due to the sudden fright of seeing someone hiding in her room already. The man held his hands up defensively and his lightly powdered face had a look of amusement. His lips spoke apologies, but his eyes were laughing.

"Do forgive me for entering your room unannounced, Lady Ghost," he started, "but I was merely curious to see if you were truly as exotic as my birds say you were."

She studied the plump, large man with soft white hands and powdered face before she replied. "Enter my room unannounced again," she replied, "and you'll find that my swordplay is just as exotic." The gardener sheathed her sword and let out a small breath she'd been subconsciously holding in.

"Once again I do apologize, my lady, but you know how curiosity is, no?"

"I do, yes, and I know what it does to cats."

"Cats, birds, spiders, all such creatures meet such awful ends when their curiosity gets the better of them." The man bowed respectfully and continued, "I am Varys, the Master of Whispers."

"Also known as the Spider, no?" Youmu raised an eyebrow, but bowed politely in return. "It's nice to meet you, Lord Varys. I'm Youmu Konpaku, and I'd prefer if you dropped the Lady Ghost."

"I would be more than happy to do so, my lady, but I can't say the same for all of the stewards and smallfolk in King's Landing," Varys said as he slipped his hands into the opposite sleeve, "your name is quite different, after all."

Youmu briefly frowned when she replied. "You aren't wrong, but if I'm expected to refer to people by their proper names and titles here in Westeros, it shouldn't be terrible of me to expect the same of those around me."

"How right you are," Varys agreed as he turned to leave the gardener's room, "either way, I should be going. I have a small council meeting to attend. You're welcome to sit in whenever you'd like, and I'm sure that everyone there would love to meet you personally."

And like that, the man was out the door and towards the council chambers. Youmu was left a little dumbfounded at the visit by the Master of Whispers, but the knocking at her door brought her out of her stupor. It seemed that the other stewards found the gardener's small room and began carrying in and depositing what little she brought with her from Winterfell.

Only three small chests with clothes, smallclothes, and books and maps that she was allowed to take from Winterfell's library were all that she had aside from her two swords. She thanked the servants and set about unpacking and organizing her clothing.

Where to first? She asked herself while stuffing her smallclothes into the wardrobe and making sure everything was neat and folded. Her gaze turned to the singular window that was on the wall between her bed and hearth and soon she found herself leaning against it and just staring out into the city below.

King's Landing was on a scale that Youmu just wasn't used to, especially compared to Gensokyo's human village, so she was caught up in just watching all of the smallfolk and their daily business.

It grew boring for Youmu after a good thirty minutes and she moved to leave for the Red Keep's library, but then she got an idea.

I wonder if I can gather seasonal essence here… It wasn't an ability she used at all after she stole Spring in Gensokyo for the first time, but she was curious if she could still do it.

Youmu drew Roukanken, examined the blade briefly, then set the sword on the window sill. She concentrated as she outstretched her hand to channel as much magical energy she could muster into her weapon. Roukanken's own magical properties acted as a great channel for Youmu's various abilities, so while she had to concentrate a great deal to summon the strength, the sword was receptive to her attempts and eventually the gardener could see small orange particles flowing into her weapon.

She flexed her hand as the brief orange glow subsided after a few seconds on her skin. Interesting. She felt magic on her fingertips for a fraction of a second before it too faded away. It was almost as if she was normal for that briefest of times.


The library of the Red Keep was massive, far larger than Youmu ever expected, with many more books to dig into than she honestly could ever hope to do on her own. The collection was also magnificently organized into certain topics, and she immediately went to the aisle labeled 'magic'.

But she needed to be more specific than just magic. Youmu needed to find boundary magic. It could also be under gap magic, though Youmu was searching for anything resembling the Japanese words for Sukima, or even Onmyoudou, the latter of which was a Taoism-derived magic from Japanese court wizards.

However, after a solid hour of searching, she came up empty. The gardener just figured that since English exists in a different form, Japanese or even Chinese would, too.

Hm. Maybe I'm looking for the wrong words. Her thumb rubbed over her chin in thought before a light clicked on in her mind. "Of course…!"

Youmu moved towards any mentions of fleets of ghost ships. She pulled out a book with an inquisitive look and started to flip through its pages, making sure to take great care of the age and yellowness of the pages.

It was towards the end of the book, but she found it. A reference, no, multiple references, to ships disappearing in a mist that blanketed the sea after pillaging coast-line villages.

Some of the Free Cities in Essos, as well as towns along the coast in Dorne to the South, all said that small fleets with sails black as the night pillage and raid to their heart's content, then merely disappear before their very eyes.

Youmu thumbed through several more pages, but was unable to find any references as to who or what those fleets belonged to. The first thing that came to her mind was the Greyjoy fleet, but as far as she knew, they were neutered after their failed rebellion years ago.

A sigh left Youmu's lips just as she heard footsteps behind her. Choosing not to draw this time, she turned to face whomever it was, and found that it was Jory, the captain of the Stark household guard.

He looked surprised that she noticed him so quickly, but he spoke nonetheless. "Lady Youmu, I was sent to fetch you for supper. The Hand wishes to have you dine with him and his family, if you want to join, that is."

The gardener closed the book and held it under her left arm and smiled to reply. "I'd be honored, my lord. Lead the way." She turned to follow after him through the darkening halls of the keep.

She was eventually brought to the Small Hall, which was a long room with a high vaulted ceiling and bench space for two hundred at its trestle tables. Youmu noticed that every guard of the Starks now wore a new heavy wool cloak that had hands of beaten silver clutching each end of the cloak to signify their service to the Hand of the King.

As she sat down next to Arya, but noticed that there was quite some distance between her, Sansa, Septa Mordane, and Sansa's friend, Jeyne Poole. Ah, they must still be fighting.

Youmu let out a small sigh just as the stewards were bringing out the first entree, a sweetly thick pumpkin soup. The girl took a spoonful of the soup in her mouth and savored the sticky sweetness rolling down her throat for just a moment before she dug into the meal with great fervor as her belly demanded more and more.

The first course was finished and taken away just as Eddard Stark strode into the Small Hall, which prompted Jory to stand. "My lord."

"Be seated," Eddard Stark said. "I see you have started without me. I am pleased to know there are still some men of sense in this city." He signaled for the meal to resume. The servants began bringing out platters of ribs, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs.

Youmu gave a small snort at the comment and a chuckle from Arya, but Jory continued. "The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," he said as he resumed his seat. "They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

The gardener raised an eyebrow at this. A tournament? If only I could participate. She wasn't sure what activities would be in it, but judging from past tourneys, she figured that jousting, archery, and dueling were all on the table. Youmu silently wished she were allowed to take part in at least the dueling, but her otherworldly status, and her being a woman, most definitely disqualified her.

Ned Stark spoke once more. "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?"

Sansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. "A tourney," she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Eddard. "Will we be permitted to go, Father?"

"You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly."

Youmu took the opportunity to speak after setting down her food. "If this is a royally funded tourney, then Princess Myrcella will be there," she wiped her mouth, "she's much younger than Lady Sansa. I don't think that it would look good if your family was conspicuously absent as well if this is in your honor, my lord."

Ned winced at Youmu's words, seeing her point. "Very well, I shall arrange a place for Sansa and Arya."

Arya spoke up for the first time since dinner started. "I don't care about their stupid tourney."

The gardener rolled her eyes and replied. "Oh come now, I'm sure there'll be lots of exciting jousting and dueling." She deliberately left out archery as Youmu herself found it quite dull to watch if she was honest.

The idea of watching knights in different colored armor bashing each other with sticks and swords and shields seemed to cause Arya's eyes to light up with glee and wonder. She turned to her father. "Can Lady Youmu sit with us?"

Ned's eyes moved to the gardener in thought while he internally sent a silent thank you in Youmu's direction as it looked like she may have defused a brewing fight between Arya and Sansa. "I don't see why not. She's a guest of King Robert after all, so it would only make sense to be seated with other esteemed guests."

"I would be honored to have a seat with your daughters, Lord Stark." Youmu replied as she too seemed to sense the tension between the two sisters simmer down after she interjected and win Arya over.


Dinner finished without much incident, and Eddard was quite happy to finally have a meal that didn't end in a shouting match between his two daughters. His head ached just thinking about what would've happened if Sansa spoke up and made a quip. That was done and over with now though, and he had made his way to his daughters' rooms to wish them a good night.

Sansa was first, and now came Arya. She was in her room near the base of the Tower of the Hand, and when he knocked on her door, he heard a weak "come in."

Ned pushed open the door just as Arya hid something behind her back. She looked like she just got caught with a pie in her hand that she knew she ought not to have taken. The man let out a small grunt and motioned to his daughter. "What's that behind your back?"

"Nothing." She was quick on the response.

"Then show me."

Arya fidgeted for a moment before exhaling dramatically and showing off what looked to be a rather thin sword. Eddard put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow. "Whose sword is that?"

"Mine."

"Give it to me."

His daughter looked apprehensive at first, but slowly surrendered the weapon hilt-first. Ned took and examined it.

"A bravo's blade," he said. "Yet it seems to me that I know this maker's mark. This is Mikken's work."

Arya lowered her gaze to the floor, finding it much more appealing than the potential disapproval in her father's face.

"My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household. How is it that you come to own a sword, Arya? Where did you get this?"

The nine-year-old fidgeted in place once more and said nothing, which earned a sigh from the man.

"I don't suppose it matters, truly." He looked down gravely at the sword in his hands. "This is no toy for children, least of all for a girl. What would Septa Mordane say if she knew you were playing with swords?"

"I wasn't playing," Arya insisted, "and lady Youmu has a sword. She even has two!"

"Lady Youmu is in a situation that warrants her owning two swords."

"Maybe I'll need to have a sword some day…!" Ah, she was a defiant one.

"I most definitely hope not," Eddard continued to examine the thin, short blade as a few ideas swirled around in his head on what to do with it, "a lady like you would have knights and sworn swords to defend you."

"But I don't want to be a lady!"

"I ought to snap this toy across my knee here and now, and put an end to this nonsense."

"Needle wouldn't break," Arya said defiantly, but her voice betrayed her words.

The use of a name brought a small smile to his lips. "It has a name, does it? All the best swords do, I suppose…" He trailed off, "do you know the first thing about sword fighting?"

"Stick them with the pointy end," she blurted out.

Ned laughed. "That is the most basic of it, yes."

"I was trying to learn but…" She trailed off and her eyes filled with tears. "I asked Mycah to practice with me." Arya turned away as those tears rolled down her cheeks, unable to fight back her grief any longer. "I asked him," she cried. "It was my fault, it was me…"

Ned moved in and wrapped his arms around his daughter with a hand holding her head. "No, sweet one," he murmured. "Grieve for your friend, but never blame yourself. You did not kill the butcher's boy. That murder lies at the Hound's door, him and the cruel woman he serves."

She cried for several more long minutes, and her father held her in his arms as she cried out all of her grief in one go. "I hate them all…" Was all she managed to murmur out before her crying slowed down to a soft, quiet whimper.

Eddard sighed softly and ran his hands through his daughter's hair for a few more moments before he broke contact. He had set Needle aside when he embraced Arya, and now he'd picked it up again and moved to the window of Arya's room to stare out at the castle courtyard while deep in thought.

He turned back to Arya and held the weapon up again. "I do not mean to frighten you, but neither will I lie to you. We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfell. We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience...at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up."

"I will," Arya nodded hastily and seemed to sit up straighter as she'd moved to her bed after her breakdown. "I can be strong, as strong as Robb!"

He held Needle out to her, hilt first. "Here."

Arya seemed hesitant for a moment before Eddard urged her to grab it. "Go on, it's yours."

"I can keep it?"

"Yes, you can keep it." He stated. "If I took it away, no doubt I'd find a morningstar hidden under your pillow within the fortnight. Try not to stab your sister, whatever the provocation."

The girl held the weapon close to her chest like a doll. "I won't. I promise."

Ned gave her a kiss on the forehead and left the room. He was tired, but he had one last stop before he could truly go to bed.


Youmu's room was close to the council chamber, as he'd passed it on his way to his first ever Small Council meeting as Hand, so it was easy to find even this late at night. He knocked on the door, and when he heard the permission to enter, he pushed into the room to find the small half-phantom reading through a book.

She stood up quickly, which Eddard stopped. "Easy, lady Youmu. I hate to disturb you this late at night."

Youmu, although tired, managed a smile as she shut her book. "It's quite alright, Lord Stark. I was just doing some late night reading."

His eyes studied her small frame briefly, and eyed the floating phantom half that seemed to glow in the light of the hearth that'd been lit for warmth. "I…" Ned trailed off, "have a request for you, if you would be willing to indulge me."

"Of course. What is the request?" Her eyes were quizzical as she studied him in turn.

"I just discovered that my daughter, Arya, had smuggled a sword with her all the way to King's Landing."

Youmu's eyes widened before she set her book on a table near her chair. "I see," she started, "I had no idea, but I could keep it from her if that's what you want."

Ned shook his head quickly. "No, no, that wasn't my intent. I was wondering if you would be willing to give her some lessons so she could properly use her weapon."

"Ah," she replied, "well, I've taught several others before her, even kids, so she shouldn't be too much of a challenge."

He smiled. "Thank you, Youmu. I'll make sure you're well compensated."

Youmu shook her head and chuckled a little bit. "There's no need for that, Lord Stark. The king is already going to give me a hefty allowance due to my quest."

"Very well, if you insist." Ned turned to leave before he glanced back at the book on the table. "Already started, have you?"

"No sense in wasting time, right?"

"Of course," he gave the briefest of smiles to the small girl, "is there any progress?"

"I've found some references to ships disappearing and reappearing in mists that cover the ocean after they pillage coastal towns in Dorne and Essos, but other than that, nothing about people."

"Ships appearing and disappearing…?" Eddard rubbed his chin in thought, "well, I'll leave you to it, and if I learn of anything on the subject I'll let you know."

Youmu bowed and smiled. "Thank you, my lord. I would greatly appreciate it."

Ned then left the room and retired to his own chambers, where he promptly collapsed on his bed and fell into a deep sleep.


The next morning, Arya, her sister, father, and Septa broke their fast in a small solar where the family could have some privacy. At midday, Vayon Poole, another one of Eddard's men, summoned her to the Small Hall where the trestle tables and benches had all been shoved to the walls to give a nice wide open area.

Then, Arya heard a familiar voice in the shadows. "You are late, boy." Youmu stepped out in front of the nine-year-old with a subtle smirk on her face. "Tomorrow you will be here at midday."

"Lady Youmu? You know I'm no boy!" Arya's eyes darted to the half-phantom's hands where she saw what looked like two curved practice swords which looked quite similar to the gardener's own blades.

"Boy, girl, you are a sword, are you not?" One of the wooden blades was tossed Arya's way, which she tried, and failed, to catch. It clattered on the ground and echoed in the near-empty hall.

Youmu clicked her tongue, though the smirk hadn't left her lips. "Tomorrow you will catch it. Now pick it up."

Arya did so, and gripped the hilt as tight as she could and with her hands as close together as they could be. Youmu tsked and shook her head.

"You need not grip it so tightly and with your hands so closely. It's a sword, not a club."

"But it's too heavy, and what if I dropped it?"

"Ah, but the sword is as heavy as it needs to be, and for balancing. A hollow inside is filled with lead, just so." Youmu advanced on the girl, but not to strike her, no, to correct her grip.

She stepped behind Arya and gently adjusted her grip. "Your hands must be only a few inches apart, and your grip must be deft and delicate."

Arya nodded in compliance just as Youmu stepped back out in front of her, but she was still confused. "But what if I drop it?"

"Can you drop part of your arm? The steel is a part of your arm, boy, and you must wield it as such."

"I'm a girl," Arya interjected.

"And again, boy, girl, you are a sword. Swords do not have gender, so you must not let yours be a factor."

"Easy to say when you can push a horse on its side…"

The smile faltered, but Youmu nodded. "This is true, but I didn't become that strong overnight, and neither will you." The half-phantom took five steps backwards and gripped her own wooden sword properly. "Now, you will try to strike me."

Arya tried to strike her. She tried to strike her for four hours, until her entire body was aching, while Youmu instructed her every step of the way.

"I know this is not the style best suited for your sword, Arya, and in time I will teach you that style as well. But for now, learning different methods of fighting will catch your opponent off guard, even more so since you fight with your left hand." Youmu helped the girl up off the ground and smirked once more. Arya was beginning to get the feeling that Youmu was enjoying herself.

"You will practice your overhead strikes and your uppercut swings after supper tonight, and I will see how you do on the morrow."

"How long do I need to practice?" Arya's nose crinkled at the idea of having to do something that would be considered extra work when not with her teacher.

"As long as you feel like you should. We will go at this course at your own pace, young one, but one way or another, I will turn you into a warrior fit for your Needle."

Arya and Youmu bowed and the lesson for the day was done. Arya, however, was still filled with jubilant energy and skipped off to leave the Small Hall. She turned and expected Youmu to be following her, but all she saw was the half-phantom's smile and a vague sadness in her eyes.