Quiet as a shadow; light as a feather.

Arya crept down the dungeon stairs, one small step at a time as she listened to the steady beats of her heart. She suddenly froze, balanced on one bare foot – her left – as she caught sight of him.

There he was, slinking silently towards the bowl of water that one of the night guards had carelessly left behind. Ah, thought Arya, her eyes shining with delight and anticipation as she watched the short-tailed black cat take a long sip of water. My old enemy. Since Arya started catching cats under Syrio's instructions, she had caught every cat that dwelled at Winterfell from the ancient white cat, its fur now coated in dust that languished in the Broken Tower to the droopy-eyed grey and white striped tabby cat that often slept either in the Library Tower or at the door of the Maester's Turret. Maester Luwin hated that particular cat as it once ripped his parchments into pieces, tipped over a pot of ink and padded all over his copy of the map of Winterfell, leaving ink prints everywhere.

At the beginning of every lesson, Arya would proudly present a cat to Syrio. He would smile and nod at her – a precious praise from him. However, there was the one cat that lurked in the shadows that Arya could never catch. That short-tailed black cat with luminous green eyes and a smirk on its face. Well, Arya was not so sure it was a smirk, but she believed it was. Every time Arya approached him, his whiskers would twitch; in a flash, he would escape.

Not this time.

Arya breathed deeply, her grey eyes fixed on that bloody cat. She didn't care if she showed up to her water dancing lesson today covered with scratches – she'll present her foe to Syrio even if she had bloody scratches all over face. That black cat was a menace to Winterfell; stealing food from the kitchens his talent. Gage's own cat was no match for him. Then again, Gage's cat preferred lazing around in the sun and sleeping in the shadows. This cat had no desire to sleep.

Holding her breath, Arya took another step down the stony dungeon steps and hoping the cat did not hear her. She was in luck. That bastard of a cat was lapping up water busily, too occupied satisfying his thirst than noticing Arya. Counting on her luck, Arya slowly tiptoed down another step, keeping an eye on the cat. Quiet as a shadow, Arya reminded herself. Light as a feather. Quiet as a shadow. Light as a feather. Quiet as a shadow. Light as a feather. Retaining one of Syrio's short and helpful mantras in mind, Arya took another step down, and another, and another, and another-

The cat hissed, the jet black fur on its short tail standing on end. Its vivid green eyes met Arya's.

He bolted.

Running as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him, the cat bounded up all the dungeon stairs before Arya could even react. Arya cursed sharply and raced after it, muttering profanities that Mother would certainly not approve of. By the time she reached the top step, the bastard had already darted towards the direction of the kitchens. Arya cursed again. Not the kitchens. Last time she attempted to grab him, he had her running into the kitchens after him twice in one chase before he took off towards the schoolroom. That bloody cat seemed to have known that she wouldn't follow him there when Septa Mordane was conducting sewing sessions, which was at least thrice a day.

Huffing angrily, Arya headed to the courtyard, just in time to greet Lyarra and Domeric with Father, Mother, Robb, Daenerys and Jon. Theon would probably be lurking in a tavern or a brothel, thus absent – as usual – from greeting Lyarra and Domeric, and the Reeds would be in the godswood praying. Arya liked Meera and enjoyed hunting frogs with her. Though she was still unused to the unusual taste of frogs, she found hunting frogs fun. She didn't know what to think of Jojen Reed though. He seemed to detest training as much as Arya hated sewing. Jojen wasn't as good with the sword as Jon and Robb were; he couldn't shoot nearly as well as Theon could; and his spearing skills were obviously more basic than Meera's. He did enjoy spending time in the godswood though.

"Arya! Have you been catching cats again?"

Arya stopped in her tracks and grinned sheepishly. Staring at her with arched eyebrows and a bemused yet slightly aghast expression near the Great Keep was Mother. Beside her with shadows under his eyes was Father, who still spared her a chuckle. To Arya's astonishment, Jon was the only other person standing there waiting to greet Lyarra and Domeric.

"Where's Robb and Daenerys?" Arya asked, glancing around. "They know that Lyarra and Domeric are coming here today don't they?" Robb would never avoid greeting their sister and one of his best friends and Daenerys wouldn't either. It was very odd…and suspicious.

"Robb is writing a letter," said Jon hesitantly, "and Daenerys is…ill."

Arya looked at him curiously. Robb writing a letter? At this time of day? An ill Dany was plausible. She was oft ill at a certain time of each month. "Moon blood," Mother has explained, "moon blood pains." Arya shuddered. She counted herself fortunate she hadn't flowered yet. From Daenerys's constant tummy pains, Arya considered flowering a horrifying part of a woman's life.

"I thought your water dancing lesson ended a couple of hours ago," remarked Father. "A bit late for you to catch cats isn't it Arya? What'll you do if you caught a cat at this time? Keep it in your room?" He chuckled a second time. "I don't think Nymeria will be pleased."

Arya rolled her eyes. "It was that short-tailed black cat I was chasing," she said defensively. "You know, the one that terrorises the kitchens. I have been trying to catch that cat for weeks. I thought I would surprise Syrio."

"Perhaps you should've changed clothes before greeting your sister?" Mother said reproachfully. "What will Lyarra and Domeric say to seeing you in ripped ah clothes?" Arya glanced at her brown jerkin ripped by cat claws and then down at her brown roughspun pants that were hacked off above her scabby knees.

"Lyarra wouldn't think less of me," said Arya, staring at her bare feet.

"At least wear shoes?" suggested Father.

Arya huffed and stood next to a silent Jon. She watched the portcullis rise and Domeric and Lyarra ride into the courtyard, the former on a red steed and Lyarra on a white palfrey. Arya stared enviously at Domeric's horse. She would've loved to ride such a horse like Domeric's.

Lyarra and Domeric greeted Father and Mother, Jon and then Arya. Arya shot a triumphant look at Mother after Lyarra and Domeric dismounted. Lyarra didn't look the least bit shocked to see Arya barefoot and in ripped clothing with knotty and tangled hair.

"Your mother and I will be leaving for King's Landing soon," Father said softly to Arya as he gently pulled her away from the others. "I thought it would be best to tell you now. It's business," he added before Arya could inquire why. "You will find out more about it later, but for now, all you need to know is we'll be leaving for King's Landing tomorrow around the same time Lyarra and Domeric plan to depart for the Rills. I know it isn't ideal, but the matter is urgent. Robb will be the acting lord in my stead and I want you to behave like a lady, understand? He will be feasting northern lords here for the first time and I'm certain you can guess it is not an easy task. You will still have your water dancing lessons with Syrio, but no more catching cats. I will be having a word with Syrio about it."

"When will you be back?" said Arya, wondering what important matter could call Father and Mother to King's Landing so soon. "A month?"

Father laughed quietly, his dark grey eyes solemn. "It will take us a little more than two weeks to get there and two weeks back. We'll be there for at least two or three months. Uncle Benjen will be coming with us too."

"Can I come?" said Arya suddenly. "Maybe I can spar with Bran."

Father shook his head. "Not this time. Next time you can train with Bran. Best behaviour for Robb," he said again. "Maester Luwin will be keeping an eye on you and will be writing reports to us."

Arya nodded. "I promise I won't embarrass Robb in front of the lords." She did not promise to stop catching cats though. Syrio had said the small scratches that she received from cats were nothing compared to what her enemies would do to her. Besides, she had not given up on catching that short-tailed black cat.


After Arya changed into a "much more appropriate supper attire," (a light grey dress) according to Mother and Septa Mordane, she tiptoed around the corridor, amusing the maidservants who hurried to and fro, carrying buckets of hot water, linen cloths, furs and soiled clothes. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself, light as a feather. Father never said she couldn't practise in the corridors.

For the occasion, she even had Needle with her. She was never allowed to take Needle into the Great Hall, but there were still hours before supper and she could easily slip back into her chambers and put Needle back into the soft grey leather scabbard on the small weirwood table that stood beside her bed. Once she would place Needle under her plump pillows, but after one of the maidservants found it and fainted from horror (a coward, Arya remembered), Father had ordered Arya to never put Needle under her pillows again. That went for all the boys too. When Jon heard what had happened, he laughed so hard he almost choked on the small spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. Theon too had guffawed before turning to Jon and Robb and uttering a number of rather filthy japes about his sword. Arya had been sorely tempted to throw a spoonful of oatmeal at him.

Closing her eyes, Arya began to wander around. It wasn't the best idea to walk around with her eyes closed in a dress, but it was much too late to change clothes again. If Septa Mordane caught her in "peasant clothes," as she called them, Arya would probably be punished by being forced to spend an extra hour sewing with the other girls tomorrow under Septa Mordane's hawkish eye.

See with your ears and nose, Arya told herself as she spun around in a circle to confuse herself. Dizzily, she held out her arms for balance and tentatively took a step forward. She slowly turned her head and heard…something.

Voices.

Excited, Arya slowly followed the trail of voices, her eyes firmly shut. See with your ears and nose. After a few minutes, the voices grew louder and sounded as if they were right next to Arya. Arya reached out and touched the cold stone. Walls. She quietly flattened herself against the wall and listened. With a sudden jolt, she realised the voices belonged to Lyarra and Daenerys…and they were arguing.

Arguing?

"You fool!" Lyarra was saying in an unusually furious tone. "Why did you not refuse when…" Arya pressed her ear against the wall, attempting to hear more of their argument. It was so unlike Lyarra to snap at anyone!

"It was a spur of a moment decision." Dany was now pleading with her. It was unexpected. Very unexpected."

Lyarra retorted something back. It was quieter now, but her tone remained as angry as it was before. I shouldn't be here, thought Arya. I shouldn't be listening to this. She was about to run off when Lyarra's voice rose.

"The fall of House Stark will be your fault. Yours and Robb's."

Sensing the argument was at an end, Arya's eyes flew open and she bolted fast to her chamber, as swift as the short-tailed cat was in the dungeons earlier today. Her heart pounded as she caught sight of Lyarra leaving her room and striding in the direction of Father's rooms. Well, maybe not Father's chambers. She could've decided to walk the long way to the Library Tower or mayhap to meet with other girls like Jeyne Poole or Beth Cassel for a short sewing session. Arya's gut sensed it was Father's rooms Lyarra was heading to. She wondered if it was wise to find and talk to Dany. Better not. It was best to leave one alone after a quarrel.

What did Lyarra mean when she said the fall of House Stark would be the fault of Daenerys and Robb? Arya pondered on the mysteriousness of it as she went to the Great Hall for supper. It was still early, but it would never hurt to show up in hopes of finding plates of lemon cakes or blackberry tarts left behind. The cooks have said fruits were rarer now and desserts would truly be rare delicacies when winter embraces Winterfell.

By the time Arya arrived in the Great Hall, there were already people chatting and sitting down. She recognised Lords Umber and Karstark at the high table and Uncle Benjen at one of the lower trestle tables having a conversation with two of his sworn brothers clad in black. Other members of Winterfell's household sat at the tables and talked in lowered voices, Maester Luwin to Vayon Poole and a few of the household guards to Ser Rodrik Cassel. The household often ate with Arya and her family but it felt somewhat different this time.

"You look lost."

Arya turned and grinned as Jon came up to her. "I thought Mother would be at least pleased I showed up early," she told him. "She isn't here though."

"Lady Stark is on her way," said Jon, pushing her to the high table. "She'll want you to sit at the high table today."

"Why?"

"Father will be making an announcement I think."

"An announcement?" Arya stopped as the worst possible thought crossed her mind. What if she is betrothed? She was only twelve, but Lyarra had been engaged to Domeric since she was born. Arya shuddered. Other twelve year old girls were betrothed and some even married. Arya knew the day would come when she was to be betrothed, even if she hated the notion of marriage, but she never expected it to be so soon. She glanced at the two lords at the high table who both smiled at her. Oh no. Alarm flashed in Arya's mind. Lords Karstark and Umber both have at least one unmarried son each.

Was that why the lords were here? Did Father summon them for betrothals? It was strange he never mentioned it, but some lords would not tell their daughters about their future husbands until their betrothal feasts. Arya wanted to run, hide and disappear to Braavos.

"What's the matter?" said Jon, looking curiously at her. Before Arya could even respond, Father and Mother walked in with Robb, Lyarra, Arthur and Rickon and Daenerys silently sitting down at one of the tables near the back. Arya's eyes had widened. Lyarra…it looked like she had been…weeping? Lyarra never cried! Well she hadn't in years!

Everyone stood up – except those already standing – and waited until Father, Mother, Robb and Lyarra walked up to their seats on the dais. Before Arya could join them, Father bade everyone to sit.

"I have a few announcements to make," declared Father. Arya bit her lip as she waited to hear the end of her water dancing lessons, the end of her freedom and the name of the man who will eventually claim her as his wife. "The First Ranger of the Night's Watch had informed me that wildlings have launched a war against the Night's Watch. As you know, if the Wall falls to the wildlings, we will be stuck in an endless war with the wildlings ourselves. We will aid the sworn brothers of the Night's Watch as much as we can. Lady Stark and I will head south with First Ranger Stark to King's Landing to request southron troops while Jory Cassel will lead a host of my own men to the Wall with Ser Mallador Locke and Grenn.

"Troops will also be sent out to Karhold with Lord Karstark for defence and as it is now a time of war, all wildlings captured or sighted on northern land will be sent to Last Hearth under Lord Umber's custody. Ravens have already been sent out to every Northern House and no doubt lords will be arriving at Winterfell for more…news." He glanced meaningfully at Robb. "Moreover," Father went on. "In my absence, my son and heir Robb will rule in my stead as the acting lord. All the problems, petitions and disputes will be dealt by Robb until my return. That'll be all." He nodded and the servants began to place dishes of food on the tables. Arya sighed with relief.

"I thought Father was going to betroth me to an Umber or a Karstark," she told Jon with another relieved sigh. Jon barked with laughter. Arya gave him a playful punch. "It's not funny Jon!"

"I cannot imagine you thinking about betrothals," said Jon, still smiling. "What came over you to think about that? I can picture Jeyne Poole dreaming of it – as it is what she already does – but you? What happened to wishing for longer lessons with Syrio? You always said you wanted that. A whole day of catching cats, water dancing and walking around Winterfell blindfolded…! Do you remember that? It was a day you always craved for."

Arya blushed. "Did you know Lyarra and Dany have been arguing?" she said in an attempt in change the subject.

"I am not surprised," Jon muttered gloomily.

"You know why they've been arguing?" said Arya, eager for news.

"I have a feeling I know why. How do you know they have been arguing? Were you listening at doors again?"

"Last time was an accident," Arya retorted. When she was seven and avoiding Septa Mordane, she had wandered to the courtyard to watch her the boys spar. It was what she normally tried to do but that time she had ventured to the armoury to find a wooden sword. In the armoury, she had accidently overheard a raunchy conversation between Theon and Waymar Royce. At the time she did not know it was a bawdy conversation and when she had asked Jon and Robb about it a little later, she didn't understand why they laughed so hard.

"And this time?"

"Lyarra said something to Dany like the fall of House Stark will be her fault. Oh and Robb's fault too. Why would she say that?"

Jon shrugged. "Maybe they were discussing…alternate outcomes to the king's war? You know they like discussing matters like that."

"Lyarra was really angry. She was furious."

"I've never seen Lyarra furious before."

Arya sighed and chewed her lip. She glanced at Jon. His smile was gone and he was brooding again. Jon was always brooding.


When rosy-fingered dawn touched the tips of the northern mountains, a tired Arya dragged herself from the bed. Every morning it was harder to get out of bed to face the cold day – and it wasn't even winter yet.

She quickly pulled on last night's dress and grabbed her brown furred cloak. It was too cold to wear her water dancing clothes right now. Giving her tangled and knotty hair one swift brush, Arya trudged down the stairs to the courtyard where most of the others were waiting. Even Arthur and Rickon were there with a very sleepy Septa Mordane. The septa looked at Arya and for once, said nothing. Arya hugged Lyarra first and grinned when Domeric ruffled her messy hair. She hoped Lyarra was no longer mad at Daenerys. Perhaps Jon was right. Maybe Lyarra and Dany were having a heated discussion of sorts. It wasn't any of Arya's business to listen in after all.

"We will write to you," Mother promised as she embraced Arya. "Be good and keep an eye out on Arthur and Rickon."

Arya nodded, knowing full well that looking after Arthur and Rickon would be one of the nursemaids' duties. She would play with them at times though as little Rickon loved watching her water dance.

With Robb, Daenerys, Jon, Arthur and Rickon, Arya waved farewell to Domeric and Lyarra and then Father and Mother. Lyarra and Domeric were heading to the Rills – they will pass through Winterfell again in a few weeks. The drowsy Septa Mordane was first to leave, ushering Arthur and Rickon inside the Great Keep too. Jon headed off for an early round of training and Robb and Dany wandered to the godswood together, whispering in lowered voices. Deciding she might find both the Reeds in the godswood (Jojen loved waking early to pray), Arya followed. She silently walked up to them, planning to scare Robb when she heard Daenerys say to Robb, "Lyarra said the fall of House Stark will be our fault. She is right isn't she in saying our marriage will cause your House's downfall?"

Arya almost tripped over her own feet as she halted, her mouth wide open. No, Dany must be lying – Robb was engaged to Princess Lyanna wasn't he? Unable to stop herself, Arya loudly blurted out, "You and Robb are married?"


Happy New Year! This chapter takes place a few weeks BEFORE the last chapter.

The winner for the 2nd competition is Clary Sage! :D I'll write the Jaime/Lyanna oneshot for you - I hope you do not mind a short wait? Anyway, I appreciate your comments on the characters and I'll definitely try and improve them in the next chapters. Honestly I never considered Lyarra and Domeric like Snow White and Charming (yes, I watch and love Once Upon A Time :D ), but now that you mentioned it, I see what you mean. I'll try and work on Jon, but I find writing him a little difficult as I personally dislike him, TV show-wise and book-wise. As for Arya being queen, it's interesting and unusual. It's hard to explain, but I personally find the younger sister (fictional or real life/historical) marrying into a higher title (Eg. Queen) over the elder a little irritating or hard to take in if you know what I mean? Sorry if it's not a clear enough explanation.

Spectre4hire, funniest thing was that this chapter was originally meant to be a Lyarra chapter before I changed my mind and trashed it. Even funnier was that I planned for it to be a Catelyn chapter afterwards as she will end up contributing to the Northern arc when Ned and Ashara arrive at the capital. I ended up changing it to this Arya chapter as I decided it would be better for a transition chapter including the send-off rather than suddenly placing Ned and Ashara in King's Landing.

I hope you guys have a great year!