(Winterfell: 10/28/298 AC) Ursa V

"Any word from the acolytes?" she ducked beneath Jun's overly high kick, the hint of exhaustion already creeping into her friend's movements. Ursa felt droplets of sweat dribble down her back and cheeks, the cool early morning air seeing to it that a chill followed their every trickling movement. A faint orange glow loomed just over the horizon, and even though the sun had yet to reveal itself, she could feel its warmth as it gave her strength.

"None yet," Jun gulped down air like she had been drowning, and was in a far worse state than herself. Their matching sleeveless black training Gi's appeared a shade darker on Jun and were drenched in sweat. The cloth stuck to her friend's petite form like a second skin. "Not even from…my father," her tiny friend continued struggling for air. "And the capital…has been quiet…as of late."

"Hmmm…What of Sho-Yu?" she raised her brow, annoyed that her Fire bending partner was on her last legs, even in the face of the rising sun. 'Pathetic,' she wanted to say but felt it undue. Ursa knew Jun was no warrior, and as if to better emphasize the point, the small girl collapsed onto her back.

"Still…awaiting word…from the Fire Lord," she grunted. "How…can…you still be standing?" Jun's small frame lay upon the snow, spread eagle, her tiny chest almost vibrating with her rapid breaths.

"The Grandmaster's only daughter has led a soft life," she remembered her mother saying of the girl, the day before Ursa was to attend the Academy. "Befriend her," the words had been simple, but impossibly difficult for her.

'Especially after having been privately tutored for four fucking years prior,' Ursa cursed at the memory of isolation. 'Being kept away from other children save for my weakling of a brother, who's own uselessness had seen to it that he was free from sharing in my damnable childhood sequestration.' Her mind twitched at the recollection. However, deep down Ursa realized that her mother had been far more correct in the choice than her younger self had understood. 'Brienne had been politics, but somehow she picked you out of the others,' she looked down at her heaving friend. 'Choosing you, even over that fool Takkar. And now I know why,' Ursa stalked over to her grounded friend and reached out. 'You serve as a reminder of the person I could have been, and a warning to the weakness that such lax lifestyles can cause.' "Get up. It's unbecoming of my personal guard," Jun stared at the hand, then took it, which saw her launched to her feet, surprising both of them.

"Ahhh!" the girl shrieked, startled at the sudden movement, before steadying herself.

'She's lighter than I remember,' Ursa noted, looking at her arms, which had grown slightly larger and more defined. "After a mere four hours of training, I must admit that I feel somewhat dissatisfied with your performance, Jun," she said flatly, dismissing her earlier thought, and crossing her arms. Her body still burned with an eagerness to press on for another four hours if not more. 'Wait,' she asked herself, as something sparked in the back of her mind. 'This conversation sounds familiar…'

"I don't…know…how…you do it," Jun smiled, even as tired as her short friend proved to be there was still that openness about her.

"I remember saying that to my mother once. Before I got over it," she frowned, still lingering on the strange thought and inviting no discourse into the subject of her mother's words, forcing Jun to awkwardly enter a training stance even as she still rasped for breath. As the words left her lips, her mind flashed with all too familiar thoughts of her mother's far more challenging training, momentarily overwhelming her current line of thinking. She recalled the damp dark caverns beneath Dragonstone, the dripping water and the echoing sounds of her rapid breath. She recalled the isolation and the seeming eternity that separated dusk from dawn. Bad as the memories were, to Ursa they held no candle to those of the failed Repurposed which had stalked the unlit passageways, hunting her in the winding, twisted caverns. 'The skittering feet of those mutilated bodies with pale white faces, echoing in the darkness. Mother always ensured that torches were inaccessible,' she clenched her fists. 'But I survived with nothing but a dagger, my flames, and the clothes on my back. I endured those long terrible nights, mother,' she told herself, her mind practically spitting out the last word. Ursa felt her anger rise at the memory, squashing the fear they threatened to elicit back when she had still been a hapless pup. 'Only you scare me now, but one day you won't,' her thoughts lingered on the matriarch of Dragonstone, and she felt a sneer forming on her face. Even in the fiery rebellion of her mind, a small part of her had wished she had accepted her father's proposal to confront her mother, all those years ago, but she had been a stubborn child. A trait that she shared with both of her parents and the little she-wolf, who's absence she had noted. Once her fateful choice had been made, Ursa Baratheon knew there would be no other recourse, and so she had steeled herself against the inevitable stripping of her childhood that would follow. The little girl she had been, regretted the choice, but the warrior she had become because of it, did not. Ursa knew hardship, she knew of that endless struggle for survival, and even now, she yearned for it, she yearned for conflict. 'This exile tries my patience,' she felt her temple pulse. Winterfell, as peaceful and welcoming as it had been for her, had lacked the fire of Dragonstone. "Perhaps we should stop?" she sighed, suddenly remembering her previous thoughts on the familiarity of conversation, as she towered over her laboring friend in the same vein as Brienne towered over her. A glance towards her protector from Tarth confirmed that she was still engaged in a fairly heated sparring match with Jon Snow. 'Or more accurately,' her lips twitched, almost catching the familiar thought as it passed through her mind, but unable to stop the forming response, 'was still dominating her comparatively smaller opponent. Though the bastard is learning quick.'

"That would be…grand…" Jun hunched over, resting her palms upon her knees, while flowery golden eyes pleaded with her.

"Very well," she grunted, her now fully recalled words forcing themselves to be said. 'My thoughts had left me far more exhausted than the actual training,' she had remembered, struggling against the form that had taken control of her words and mind. Ursa watched as Jun collapsed into a heap once again, and grabbed at a patch of snow near her head, before shoving it into her face.

'Why is this so familiar?!' she wanted to scream, but her mouth paid no heed to her commands. Brienne and Jon ceased immediately after, each eyeing and circling each other like a pair of competing wolves, before bearing teeth and smiling.

"You're getting better. Perhaps next time, Jon?" Brienne sucked in the fresh northern air, presenting her hand as she did so.

"Next time, Tarth," Jon clasped the proffered hand and shook.

'We are all soldiers in the service of the Fire Nation and the Seven-Kingdoms. We are soldiers before friends and friends before death.' the words of Lee sparked in her mind.

"This feels amazing," she heard Jun's muffled words spill out from the pile of snow hiding her face.

Staring down at her, the false Ursa replied, "Did I not say that was unbecoming of my personal guard?"

'What in the blazes is going on!? I've already said this!' she tried to shout and found only silence leave the closed lips of her imposter.

The snow immediately melted into vapor, revealing a stunned, wide-eyed look, before Jun shot up and presented palm over fist. "A thousand apologies!" Jun yelped, before a splash of familiar red warmth dotted her vision, along with the taste of copper.

Regaining control of her hands and body, Ursa wiped away the blood and saw her friend twitching in response to the pale white hand that had perforated her chest. "This did not happen," she could only whisper in astonishment. The near crystalline hand was smeared with Jun's red ichor, as it lifted her gurgling form. Tears streamed down her friend's shocked face, before she fell limp, and was cast into the darkness that now surrounded her. Brienne and Jon had vanished, leaving a dull red light upon the patch of snow on which she stood. "This definitely did not happened," she felt a scowl upon her face and took to the tigerdillo firebending stance her mother had taught her. "What are you creature!? Come out! Step into the light!" The murderer stood silent, lingering in the shadows, with only a black frostbitten handprint marring the otherwise perfectly formed left arm. Twinkling blue eyes stared at her from the void and she screamed, pumping her fist forward to unleash a blast of fire only to find that she was incapable of doing so. Looking down at her hand, she found it smaller, childlike. The snow at her feet melted, producing a mirror of rippling water, and in it, she saw herself as she had been on Dragonstone. 'Soft and weak.' Ursa had barely had enough time to ponder the thought as the white hand shot out and grabbed at her throat, slowly crushing her windpipe, and blurring her vision. In her struggle, her tiny hands beat upon the cold grasp until she heard a familiar voice in the gloom.

"Wake up," her father's voice resonated out in the blackness. "Wake up!" the voice echoed again, only this time sounding more feminine, yet just as familiar as before.

"Brienne? Father," she choked, "where?" the icy hand loosened its grip at her words, before finally disappearing as a black and crimson flames swirled around them. She fell to her knees, splashing water as she did, and desperately gasping for air. An inhuman roar blasted out from the darkness, shaking the pitiless black space, and causing Ursa to shoot her head up. She pumped her fist at the sound, surprising herself as a flame engulfed the balled hand.

"No, you're not ready yet," Brienne's and her father's voices sounded out once more.

"But I'm strong, father. And I'm always ready, Brienne," She scanned the darkness with narrowed eyes, trying to find the source of the words, yet only hearing and feeling a deep cold breath somewhere beyond the light where she found glistening spider-like eyes staring at her.

"Not yet," her tall friend emphasized, in a fearful tone she was unaccustomed with.

She ground her teeth and stood up, her reflection having since returned to its normal self. The daughter of Dragonstone planted her feet and formed a flame within her free hand. Her hairs stood on edge as the blood of fire surged within her, preparing to attack or raise defense. 'It doesn't matter,' she told herself, 'for only that thing will die if it dares to strike at me.'

"If you do this, you would have disappointed me. Now, wake up!" her father's voice boomed, and she hesitated, locking eyes with the many-eyed thing before she relented and lowered her fists. The thing charged and she did not move, for she felt strong hands shaking her and slowly the thing faded into a haze as it grew closer until a familiar face took its place.

"Brienne?" she blinked and smelt smoke, watching as her friend and their quarters in Winterfell gained form. In the corner of the room, near their small fireplace, she saw Jun's tiny form hunched over, rocking beneath thick sheets, and looking into the flames.

"You were thrashing in your sleep and nearly burned down your bed," the girl from Tarth exclaimed, as she held an empty jug of water. Slowly she became aware of a wetness at her feet and she looked down to see the bottom corner of her sheets blackened and soaked. "Sorry," her friend apologized, as she followed her eyes. "Are you well? You gave me a fright."

"Yes," she said simply, unwilling to elaborate on her nightmare. "Was I loud?" she asked, dreading any incident that would expose her before her mother had issued explicit orders.

"No," Jun said at last. She shifted her gaze from Brienne to Jun, noticing that the Grandmaster's daughter had not turned, her shadow tracing a long-form across their chambers. "You were quiet."

"So were you," Brienne almost shouted, rising to her feet. "Why didn't you help?"

"I was helping," her friend kept her back towards them, still gazing deep into the flame as she spoke.

"How?! How were you helping?" her guardian from Tarth hissed.

"In my own way. You wouldn't understand," Jun never faced to address them, and spoke her words in an almost trance-like manner.

"Why you little…" Brienne stomped towards Jun, spinning her around before stopping dead in her tracks at the frightened look in her compatriot's soft golden eyes.

"The sheets have been stained. Perhaps a request for new ones are in order?" her short friend asked, looking towards her, the normally tanned skin nearly bone-white in the pale flame.

Taking her cue, and knowing of the methods of the Red Priesthood, Ursa replied, "Yes, Brienne, a request for fresh sheets are in order. Say we huddled too close to the flame." The young woman from Tarth looked at them a moment before nodding her head, heading out the door, and closing it behind her.

They both remained silent as Brienne's heavy footsteps faded out. "You saw, didn't you?" she asked, rising and walking over to her normally gregarious friend, before sitting beside her.

"More than I should have," Jun clutched at her chest, in the area where the icy white arm had impaled her. "Mother often spoke of seeing such things in her dreams, of past times warping into terrible futures. Of seeing things in the flames," Jun added turning back to stare at the flickering light in their small hearth. "I never believed her. I was young and stupid," she sniffed.

"What did you see?" she asked, staring at the profile of the girl she had often thought too childish, but now grimmer than ever.

"Nothing that would make sense. A stone dragon, the four elements, a crown of ice. Then? Death." Jun's eyes had grown large, the fear readily evident in them. "Word from Dragonstone," Jun added, almost as an afterthought.

"What?" she perked up, silently wishing to dispel the nonsense of fire dreams with news of reality, hoping it had merely been a coincidence and nothing more.

"The Overseer is dead," her diminutive friend kept focus upon the fire, moving not an inch from her position as she spoke, "and the Fire Lord has been bedridden for more than a week now. There are no signs that she will wake. Steffon sends this in secrecy for only you and me. The enemies and allies, no matter how close, of the Fire Lord, must not know."

The floor dropped from under her, "No. That's not…"

The door handle jingled, stopping her words in an instant. "The sheets?" Brienne asked, uncertainness pervading in her voice, as she passed through the entryway of their room.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, watching as Jun kept staring into the flames with wide-eyed curiosity. "Place them by my bedside," her command coming out more aloof than she anticipated, but being followed just the same. "We will talk on this later," Ursa whispered to her friend, before rising to her feet and returning to her bed. Tucking in, she knew there would be no sleep for any of them the remainder of the night, and she was correct.