Chapter 5

Last Time:

That night Cat dreamed she was kissing Tamo and smiled in her sleep.

oOoOo

6 Months Later – Late 297 AC

Greatjon Umber was a large man, nearly seven feet tall. He has always been proud to be called unruly, and ferocious, and a true friend to those who have earned his respect. Right now, he was riding to see two people on that list. Ned and the Little Wolf, Arya.

Ned was clearly warned he was approaching and by the time he and his men had passed the gates, Ned and his family were waiting for them.

He dismounted and dropped to one knee. "Lord Stark."

Lord Stark waved for him to stand, "Lord Umber, I…urghh"

The Greatjon stood and engulfed his friend in a bone-crushing hug. "Good to see you, Ned."

Releasing Lord Stark, he took Lady Catelyn's hand and raised to his lips, "As beautiful as ever, My Lady."

Lady Catelyn smiled slightly, "Lord Umber."

Greatjon turned to the children with a smile. He gave the Greyjoy whelp a nod and then clapped Robb on the shoulder. "You've grown boy, a true Stark, although I can still see the Tully in you." Seeing a slight wince from Robb, he grinned. "Ah, don't flinch. Your Tully kin includes the Blackfish and family, duty and honour are good words to live by."

He ruffled Bran and Rickon's hair and kissed Sansa's hand. Noting that she now wore a sheathed blade attached to her belt. Not a table knife, but a long, silver-hilted dagger. Arya had gone one better and was wearing a thin-bladed sword.

"You lassies can use those blades?"

Sansa nodded hesitantly and Arya beamed at him.

Arya's smile widened, "I...we've got a Braavosi Swordmaster and mistress teaching us!"

Greatjon raised an eyebrow, "Braavosi eh, any good?" He turned to look at Ned, who nodded. He could understand Ned getting his children, even the girls trained. "Well then, I look forward to seeing what they've taught you."

Arya's excitement drained away as she looked forlornly at the keep, "I've got lessons with Maester Luwin…unless…" she looked to her father.

Ned shared a look with Lady Stark, who sighed and nodded. Ned turned to look at his children. "You had best get changed. You too boys…I wouldn't mind a turn in the yard myself. But first, I've got some ale you might enjoy Lord Umber."

oOoOo

Greatjon Umber was no stranger to teaching young people to fight, he had taught his children and several wards. So, the scene in the yard was all the more surprising.

"Bloody Gods…what the fuck, Ned!"

Eddard smiled proudly, "Good, isn't she?"

The Greatjon had no idea if he meant his daughter or her instructor.

"She needs a bit more muscle and to focus a bit on her footwork," grumbled Ser Rodrick before his lips turned up into a smile. "But I'll be buggered, pardon me, my Lord, if I've seen any faster youngster. Her reflexes are as good as any swordsman I've trained."

He watched as young Arya, with a light sword and dirk, held off a flurry of quick blows from her instructor before missing a block and taking a sharp blow to her sword arm.

The slim, silver blond-haired woman stopped moving, "And now you are a dead girl!"

"And where did you find a bloody Valaryian?" Greatjon asked as Arya and her sparring partner began a discussion about the bout.

"She's from Braavos," explained Eddard.

The Greatjon snorted, "With those bloody looks, no wonder she can fight," he looked over to where the Stark boys and Snow were talking to an olive-skinned man. "And that's the other then?"

"Syrio Forel, former First Sword of Braavos. He and Cat are two of the most skilled fighters I've seen in a long while," explained Eddard.

Greatjon nodded slowly, "Water Dancers, their style won't always work against heavy armour."

Eddard and Rodrick shared a look, "That's true Jon," agreed Eddard. "Although Syrio claims that plate armour only makes you slower and easier to poke full of holes. But come and see for yourself. Syrio will have the boys in the yard by now."

Greatjon lowered his voice so that only Eddard could hear, "How is Arya?"

Eddard sighed and when he replied his voice was low enough that the Greatjon had to lean in. "She's put it behind her for the most part. Catelyn has been worried and is sure that she still has nightmares about it. To be honest, I fear Catelyn was the one who suffers the most. She grew up in the South and finds her daughter's near-death experience and her continued obsession with fighting and other un-ladylike pursuits odd. Sansa is learning to defend herself with a dagger, something Catelyn learned as a girl and so she understands the necessity. But for Arya to throw herself into mastering Water Dancing is something she cannot grasp."

The Greatjon could see that Eddard was generally worried. "You think Arya's being pushed forward too quickly?"

Eddard shook his head, "No, for all her Valyrian looks Cat understands Arya. By the Gods Jon, she is at home here in the North. She seems to understand Arya. She's careful to not push her too hard, too fast."

"She understands the North?" questioned the Greatjon.

"She does, it is like she grew up here. She is smart and deadly with a blade. She and Syrio were a find. A real find, Rodrik has been singing their praises. The boys are benefiting from seeing a true master of another style. Even Sansa has begun learning to defend herself."

"How's Lady Stark truly taking that?" the Greatjon asked with a sideways look.

Eddard shook his head, "Better than I thought she would. She has accepted that Arya is not changing anytime soon and even with armed men around them there might come another time when knowing how to defend themselves might save their lives. She wrote to her father and even her uncle about the training. Her father was surprised, and the Blackfish was pleased."

Greatjon grunted, "Aye, the Blackfish would be. From what I hear he's a tough old bastard." He stroked his beard as he considered, "You'd think a woman from Braavos would find the north a hard place to understand. Especially one with Valyrian blood."

Eddard had to agree. He had wondered the same thing. That Cat had Valyrian blood was not an issue to him but others over the last few months had begun asking questions about her ancestry and there had been a rumour that she had Blackfyre blood. Syrio, when questioned had laughed heartily and claimed that she was no dragon. Being from Braavos, she was naturally more inclined toward seabirds and seahorses.

The men had laughed, and Eddard had wondered if she had the blood of house Velaryon in her veins. Lucerys Velaryon had fathered one bastard, Aurane Waters. He had stopped worrying at that point. Bastard or not, Cat of the Canals was a fine lass and had done wonders with his girls' skills and confidence.

"Who knows, her blood might be from the Free Cities."

oOoOo

Cat grimaced as she rubbed a sore spot on her arm. Ser Rodrik was a bloody demon and knew so many bloody styles that he was starting to score hits on her. In a real fight she could take him but in the sparing yard…well the old Knight held his own.

"Cat, fancy a drink?"

She turned to see Jory Cassel holding a mug of ale, "Aye, Jory thank you."

Jory was a decent enough man and one of the few whom she honestly believed was not trying to woo her. Jory saw her as another fighter and liked the idea of her being there to defend the ladies of House Stark.

"I was talking with Lord Stark. It seems that the Greatjon is not going to be our only lordly guest. Lord Bolton and Lady Mormont are due to arrive soon," he explained as he sipped his own ale. "Lady Mormont and her daughters will no doubt be itching to face you in a bout."

Cat shrugged, no doubt they wood. The Mormonts would love another female fighter.

"And" continued Jory with a smirk, "It seems that the new Lord of the Dreadfort has expressed interest in your background…perchance he seeks a lady of the Dreadfort?"

Cat nearly choked on her drink, "W-what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Jory laughed at her response, "No, seriously. I hear that young Domeric is a man smitten."

"Fine, I'll un-smitten him," Cat replied with a frown. There was only one person she dreamed about kissing and it wasn't a bloody Bolton.

"Well remember that Lord Bolton is a good bit easier to deal with than his late father, so don't kill him," replied Jory with a grin.

Several men standing nearby laughed, and Cat shrugged, "I make no promises."

Jory lowered his voice, "He's better than the damn squid."

Cat rolled her eyes, whoever started that rumour was going to pay. Although she had come to believe that it might have been Greyjoy himself. The weasel of an Ironborn had made a few very unsubtle attempts to win Cat over. And as far as she was concerned, she would sleep with just about anyone before Theon.

Jory nodded and she relaxed as he engaged one of his men in conversation. Despite the storm she knew was approaching she was more worried about the discrepancies that were occurring in what she remembered and the events playing out.

She was about to head to bed when there was a commotion at the head table. One of the guards had appeared and was talking to Lord Stark, who looked surprised before turning to his wife. Cat was intrigued, this was new.

Moving quickly, she slid through the crowded hall, ducked through the kitchen scullery and out into the courtyard. There was a crowd, but she managed to move to where she could see. The Starks were talking to an older man, standing beside his mount. Cat did not recognise him, but then he turned slightly, and she saw the leaping black trout on a field of blue and mud red. Well, this is a surprise, Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.

oOoOo

Eddard laughed as Ser Brynden hugged Catelyn, then shook hands with the Blackfish, with a genuine smile on his face.

"Not that we are not pleased to see you Uncle, but I am surprised," said Catelyn as they walked toward the hall.

"When I received your letter Cat, I had to come and see this miracle," he replied teasingly before growing serious. "It's no crime for a woman learning to defend herself. And after I heard what happened to Arya…I understand your decision. I have never been one to sprout all that, a woman's battlefield is the birthing bed rubbish. I have seen war, a lady learning to defend herself might save not only her virtue but her life. That Arya has seen such horror, so young is terrible but by the Seven, she showed her spirit."

Catelyn nodded but she looked a bit shaken by her uncle's words.

Eddard nodded, face stern. "I've never felt more…satisfied as I did when I dispensed justice to those scum."

Brynden nodded, "Aye, I don't doubt it. I would like to meet your swordmaster and mistress. A former First Sword and a female Braavosi with a Valyrian look? You've picked the rare ones, Eddard."

"They found me more like, they showed up in White Harbour…" Eddard explained how the two Braavosi had made their way to Winterfell.

"Well, I look forward to seeing them in action…so am I too late to eat, I've been forced to live off my campsite cooking for too long," said Brynden with a wry smile.

oOoOo

Brynden liked Winterfell, his previous visit during the war against the Ironborn, had been a rushed event. A single night before his duties in the Vale called. This visit was going to be longer and at least now his great-nephews and nieces would remember this one. Ned Stark was everything he had expected and clearly a good and honourable man, which was of course good. Catelyn was a good woman, and she deserved a man who respected and loved her.

From what he had seen, their children, even Stark's bastard, were well treated, educated and had that spark he liked to see. You could tell a lot about a Lord by how his servants behaved and more by his children. Eddard Stark was no fool, he could even forgive him the bastard. Shit happens in wartime and at least the man had the honour to take the boy in. Despite the common feeling for bastards in the Riverlands, they could be good men. Being raised with his half-siblings meant that he would not be likely to turn on them. When he had spoken to the boy last night, he had been talking of taking the black to serve with Benjen Stark. Northerners saw the Night's Watch far differently than the south and he would no doubt do well enough. Of course, he could always stay and serve his father and half-brother. More than one bastard served as a Guard Captain or Master-at-Arms for his true-blooded siblings. Only he got the impression that despite the boy's generally quiet, brooding nature, Catelyn struggled to accept his presence. He would have to have a word; the boy was a stain on her husband's honour. That didn't mean she had to mistreat the lad.

Even after the fine meal the previous night, he was, as always up at first light. So, he decided to look over the training yard. No doubt the guards and older boys would be with the swordmaster. Even before he arrived, he could hear the Master-at-arms calling instructions. And was greeted by a sight that made him smile. Robb and his half-brother Jon were exchanging blows as Ser Rodrik called instructions. A second man, shorter and dressed like a Braavosi was standing with his hands behind his back and a slight smile on his face as he watched intently.

Then Robb was on his back.

Jon helped his brother up and Ser Rodrik was questioning Robb's choice of defence.

The Master-at-arms and the swordmaster offered good sensible advice that had him smiling. His days in the yard as a child and then later as a squire were some of his happiest memories. Ser Rodrik and the Braavosi knew their craft and he turned at the sound of another Braavosi accent. On the other side of the yard, a woman was leading both his great nieces across the training ground.

"Bloody Hell," he muttered as he took in the woman's appearance. Silvery blonde hair and Valyrian colouring. She was slim and walked like a bloody cat… a predator. Leaning against the wall, he did not announce himself, choosing to watch.

She led the girls through some sensible warmups and then had Arya working on one of the training posts while she worked with Sansa. The Braavosi was demonstrating fighting with a dagger. Many fathers taught their daughters basic dagger work. This was anything but. Clearly, Sansa was learning about matching footwork and strikes. From the instruction she was being given she was being taught to aim for the soft and painful parts of the body to inflict the most damage, including the kidneys, clavicle, nose, and between the ribs.

Brynden watched as she showed Sansa a simple one-handed grip and demonstrated using her off-hand to turn aside an opponent's arm. Sansa nodded and tried out the move. The Braavosi corrected her movement, nodding as she adjusted her strike. Sansa was being trained to do more than flail about with a dagger. Good, he knew all too well that training with a weapon was only as effective as your trust in your skills wielding it.

Sansa was sent to the training post to practice and Arya took her place.

Arya's blade was long and slim and clearly not wooden. Facing the Braavosi, she adopted a side-on stance, mirroring her instructor. He had seen Water Dancing before and while he had never been taught the style, he knew enough to recognise it. Arya's movements were already showing the typical fluid movements of Braavosi fighters. The Water Dance favoured lighter, smaller swords and graceful movements as opposed to the strong blows and thrusts of Westerosi knights. Damn it, Arya was good, not just good for her age but good. Her instructor however was something else. Arya attacked again and the Braavosi spun out of the way as her sword ended up almost touching the hollow of Arya's throat.

Arya looked downcast but paid attention to her instructor and in their next bout Arya scored a touch.

'She's going to give her future husband headaches, I hope Ned realises what he's started,' mused Brynden as he pushed himself off the wall and walked over to where Arya was watching the Braavosi demonstrate a series of moves that would leave her opponent badly injured if not dead.

"Uncle Brynden!" exclaimed Arya when she caught sight of him.

Brynden smiled slightly as Arya looked to her instructor for permission. The Braavosi nodded and she ran over.

"Were you watching me?!"

Bryden nodded, hiding his amusement. "I was watching Sansa too. But yes, I was watching. You seem well trained, how are you liking it?"

"Liking it, I love it! Cat is so good." Arya went on singing her instructor's praises for several minutes as Brynden listened.

The Valyrian-looking Braavosi rolled her eyes and then winked at him.

"Ser Brynden Tully, My Lady," he offered the Braavosi a slight bow.

"Cat of the Canals," she replied with a laugh. "I'm no lady, Ser."

"Perhaps Swordmistress would be more proper," offered Brynden.

Cat shrugged, "A title fit to my purposes. I must say that Arya and Sansa are fine students, a credit to House Stark."

"Aye, that they are. I can't help but notice that you are teaching them to fight…properly that is."

Cat shrugged again, "I am. When Arya gets herself in to trouble again, she will know how to fight this time. Sansa is less interested in such, but she will know how to defend herself from any threat to her person."

Brynden nodded, he could not and would not argue against that. Not given what had happened to Arya, half a mile from home. He took a moment to study Cat. She really was a beautiful young woman, but to be honest he was more interested in her skills.

"Do you fancy a bout?" Brynden asked politely.

Cat nodded, "Ser, I would welcome the opportunity to cross blades with a knight of your skills."

Brynden shucked off his heavy coat and handed it to a grinning Aya. "Training blades or live steel?"

Cat made a dismissive gesture, "Whatever you prefer, Ser."

Brynden could not help but notice her complete lack of nerves. She stood as calmly as any anointed knight awaiting a tourney. Walking onto the sand, he spotted Sansa watching and smiled at her.

The bout left him in no doubt that the Braavosi girl was one of perhaps the best instructors his grandnieces could have. Which got him wondering. Who in the Seven Hells was she? She was perhaps, nineteen and she fought like a Water Dancing Arthur Bloody Dayne. Not to mention the Valyrian Steel sword she used. Was she some descendant of the Blackfyres or a bastard of house Velaryon? That she could be from Lys or somewhere else in Essos seemed more likely. But her skill and her Valyrian steel blade raised questions. If she were just a bit younger, she might have been taken for the exiled princess Daenerys Targaryen.

oOoOo