Arya was bored by the tourney. All day various knights had charged at each other with their lances. She wanted to compete in these tourneys, she wanted to ride as a knight and joust with the best of them, but every time she watched them, all she saw was the chances of her doing so slipping further away. It was not fair.

"Arya!" Mordane chastised her, "you are expected to watch."

Arya shrugged. "I don't care about it," she replied simply, kicking at the dirt, and letting her mind drift back to Nymeria. Tristan had said he would look for her. Had he found her, she did not know, she hoped he had. He always followed his promises, but he had not promised that he would find her. He was like that, he did the same to their parents, promising them just enough to get them to stop chastising him, but not enough to bind him down.

She sighed and looked up at the jousting. Someone had just been knocked off and Sansa was giddy with excitement. But then the king called out. "Let's get this over with! We finish the jousts tomorrow, clear out for the archery."

Arya sprang to her feet. She had promised her father she would stay for the jousts, not the rest, much like Tristan would have done it to ensure he didn't stay too long. "Bye," she said and turned, but Mordane's hand closed over her wrist.

"Where are you going young lady?"

"Father never said I had to watch the archery."

"You cannot just leave," Mordane declared. "Sit down."

"No," she retorted.

"Arya," she turned and looked at Shireen, who had decided to sit with her.

She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Shireen smiled. "If you stay and watch the archery," she said. "I will ask my brother to give you some tips."

"Not you?" Arya was disappointed, she was just getting out of it, she didn't want to teach her. She saw that now.

Shireen shook her head. "No, he is much better than I am, stay and you will see."

Arya bit her lip, struggling to decide. She sat down.

There were far fewer archers than jousters, the lower reward no doubt the reason. She saw about twenty of them approach the king. She recognised Shireen's brother from the day they had arrived in King's Landing. He was standing in the middle of the line, holding the same type of bow that Shireen had loosely in his left hand. He did not seem concerned by the competition. The announcer called out the scoring system for the first round.

"You will each loose ten arrows at the targets," he declared clearly for all to hear. "The top ten will progress to the next round, the others will be out. Ready? Begin!"

Arya watched Lyonel Baratheon closely. Then her mouth fell open. As the others all lined up their arrows, he drew back and loosed his first almost without aiming. He then proceeded to repeat the process, aiming much less and loosing much more quickly, so much so that, by the time he had let fly all ten of his assigned arrows, the most the other competitors had managed was four. There were murmurs through the crowd. All ten were in the golden circle in the centre.

She felt Shireen lean in close. "Still doubt that he is a better archer than me?" She asked, and Arya shook her head, glad that she had stayed behind to watch this.

"How could he be so good?" She asked.

Shireen smiled. "My brother had… difficulty managing many weapons in his youth, hence why he doesn't use swords," she explained. "But one day, our uncle Rolland gave him a bow and he was instantly in love. Our uncle Rolland and our mother come from the Dornish Marches, the best bowmen in Westeros, she helped him but swiftly he was simply learning himself. No one has taught him in years, he is just brilliant." There was a strange light in her eyes, adoration and love, they were both clear to see.

When the round was done, it turned out that Lyonel Baratheon had easily passed through to the next round. There was one more elimination round of twenty archers, but then they moved on to the final. Twenty final competitors, including a summer islander and a commoner from the Marches.

"You will each loose one hundred arrows," the crier declared. "Whoever gets the most on the target, shall be declared the victor. Begin!"

Once again, the heir to Dragonstone showed his worth, only one of his arrows missed. His closest competitor was a commoner from the Dornish Marches, who scored three below Lyonel Baratheon.

The crowd got to their feet clapping and cheering loudly at the incredible archery display by the King's nephew. She turned to Shireen. "You're right," she said. "He is better than you." Shireen laughed at her honesty. Lyonel had approached the commoner who nearly matched him and was talking with the man openly as they made their way to the King to receive their prizes.

"He is brilliant," she replied simply, clapping her brother along with everyone else. She could not tell what the heir to Dragonstone was saying to the commoner, but the low born archer nodded and then went over to the crier. The black haired Baratheon boy claimed his winnings and left quickly, nodding to his sister as he did so. Shireen turned to Arya. "Would you like him to give you a few lessons?" Arya only nodded. "I will speak with him."

Later on, Arya was, at her dancing master's instructions, chasing a black cat into the dungeons of the Red Keep. He was a fast one, darting off as soon as she got near, but she would not give up, could not, not until she had caught it, this cat had made it his personal mission to bother her, so she would catch him.

The cat sprang off down a hallway, and Arya chased after it, though the hallway was dark it had to lead somewhere, all hallways did. But she skidded to a halt upon catching sight of a shadow on the wall, the shadow of a monster. Then she realised that it was made by a skull, the largest skull she had ever seen, that of a dragon. It's bone was black as iron and it's fangs sharp as swords. Several pieces appeared to have been broken off, but she couldn"t tell. She reached out to touch it, but then she heard voices and her heart froze.

"… certain there was no sign of him," said one voice, soft and silky.

"We fell upon the horse lords as they rested," said another, "his treasures were there, he was not, and he was not left in the city either." This voice was harder, that of a warrior. Arya looked around desperately, but the only place to hide was in the mouth of the Dragon, so she got in and lay completely still. "The magister is dead, we must move on."

The first man sighed. "True, though he was a friend, and will be missed." The second man, based on the sound he made, didn't seem to agree. "With both of them gone, we are in more than a sorry state, they were supposed to be the boy's line to legitimacy."

"Well, unless you can locate the daughter, we will have to proceed without them," the second man said. They came into view and the second man seized the first. "Here is far enough, any further and we may find too much light for liking." Arya saw that he wore red armour, with two lions, one on each breast, standing proud on his breastplate. A Lannister? She thought, and then she realised that these weren't Lannister Lions, they were white and they had wings.

"You have a plan?" The first man said, he was dressed in black, with a hood pulled low, completely at odds with his voice.

"I do," the second man confirmed, "though we are troubled by your reports, if this war that you are saying is coming, then we will have to act fast if we want to take advantage."

The second man nodded and continued. "So we will, one Hand is dead, and as for the other, well, why can this one not die as well."

"This Hand is not the other, but things are progressing too fast. He has one bastard already, he has the book and soon the rest will come with it."

"Is that true," the second man muttered. "Well if the Hand cannot be killed, then the book can disappear, it is hardly beyond you."

The first man chuckled. "That would only confirm his suspicions my friend, I am afraid things are worse than that, the fools tried to murder his son. Worse, they botched the attempt."

"Wolves and Lions," the second man muttered on. "They were not meant to share a bed for long. How long before war?"

"I believe that is beyond my knowledge now," the first man sighed. "Soon, I would say, though without more birds-."

"The fat man may have been willing to cut the tongues from children for you," the second man cut across him angrily. "I will not, your web has lasted this long spider, make it last a little longer."

The first man sounded affronted in his reply. "I had hoped it would be of use to the boy for many years yet."

There was a brief silence. "And what of the Stags, they will not sit silent whilst this is going on."

"One courts the rose, seeking to supplant the other, as for the other one well, who can say, he has sealed his island."

"And the Usurper?"

Arya knew that some called Robert the Usurper, was that who they were talking about.

The first man spoke up. "The lion has plans that will remove him, I doubt even the wolf can stop that."

"He will try."

"Yes he will," the first man agreed, "and I shall help him, remember, we have the advantage. Robert Baratheon may be a drunk, but he is a warrior of renown, he slew the last dragon at the Trident, as long as he lives, so does peace, but when he dies, there will be war."

The second man grunted. "There is no stopping it, not even for a year?"

"No," the first man replied.

The second man shifted and Arya saw that his red armour was offset by blue hair. "Then we shall have to act, I will help the boy make a name for himself where I can. You control the flow of information, spider," he continued. "The Usurper must not know about him, not until he is ready."

"Have no fear of that my friend. There are many players at work seeking to bring about war and death. I will do what I can and, by the time the boy is ready, the Kingdoms will be ripe for the taking."

"Let us hope so," the second man said as the two of them moved off.

Arya caught a few brief snatches of more conversation. "You have a plan for it," the fading voice of the first man said. "May I know what it is?"

"You will know," the second man assured. "We have a contract written in blood, and when the boy is revealed, you may not be able to suppress it."

"Maybe not, but people here will only threaten him if he proves to be the man he claims to be. Although, by that time, there will not be a force left capable of stopping it"