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[Scene changes to Arya in King's Landing.]
"You are late, boy. Tomorrow you will be here at midday."
"Syrio Forel?" Oberyn frowned in confusion. He hadn't heard from the first sword of Braavos in a while. Rumours had it that the man was dead.
"Who are you?"
"Your dancing master, Syrio Forel."
Oberyn's eyes flashed in recognition.
"It would suit her well" The man nodded his head, earning looks from the Starks.
[Syrio throws a wooden sword to Arya, she does not catch it, but drops it.]
"What dance requires a sword?" Robb frowned.
"The Water Dance of Braavos. It's a style of combat that uses the flexibility of the body and speed rather than brute strength. It would suit young Arya Stark and the kind of sword she wields." Oberyn explained
Arya's eyes lit up with excitement although she has the skills but she didn't know how she got them so she was exited to see it happen.
Catelyn's darkened with distaste.
"Tomorrow you will catch it. Now pick it up. That is not the way, boy. This is not a great sword that is needing two hands to swing it."
"It's too heavy."
"It is heavy as it needs to be to make you strong. Just so. One hand is all that is needed. Now you are standing all wrong. Turn your body side-face. So. You are skinny. That is good. The target is smaller. Now the grip... Let me see. The grip must be delicate."
"What if I drop it?"
"The steel must be part of your arm. Can you drop part of your arm? No. Nine years Syrio Forel was first sword to the Sealord of Braavos. He knows these things. You must listen to me, boy."
"Perhaps I can learn this too, it looks interesting" Margaery commented.
The rest of the younger audience too found it interesting. Those who had a head for combat were thinking about how to incorporate it with their own way of fighting.
"I'm a girl."
"Boy, girl... You are a sword, that is all. That is the grip. You are not holding a battle-axe. You are holding..."
"A needle."
"Ahhh... Just so. Now we will begin the dance. Remember, child, this is not the dance of the Westeros we are learning... The knight's dance, hacking and hammering. This is the Bravo's dance... The water dance. It is swift and sudden. All men are made of water, do you know this? If you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die. Now you will try to strike me"
[Arya takes several attempts as Syrio turns his back, defending her and disarming her constantly. She begins picking up on a few things but still needs much work. Ned enters in the doorway and his smile turns to a grimace watching his daughter swordfight.]
Catelyn's expression mirrored her husband's on the wall. She did not like her daughter learning all these unnecessary things.
[Scene opens to Bran in the courtyard of Winterfell shooting a bow as a raven flies in.]
"I'm walking?" Bran asked, half in confusion and half in hope.
"It could be a dream" Robb whispered to Jon, careful that Bran did not overhear him.
"Possibly" Jon nodded.
[As he approaches it, it flies into the crypt, continuously cawing. As Bran enters the crypt he makes direct eye contact with the raven and sees that it has three eyes. He wakes up. Theon enters just as he wakes up.]
Bran visibly deflated. It was just a dream. He was not going to walk again.
"You're seeing weird things in your dreams" Arya pointed out.
"Me walking again is not weird," Bran said heatedly.
"I meant the three-eyed raven" Arya rolled her eyes.
Bran rolled his eyes in reply.
[Old Nan is sitting beside Bran's bed.]
"The little Lord's been dreaming again."
[Theon walks in.]
"We have visitors."
"I don't want to see anyone."
"Really? If I was cooped up all day with no one but this old bat for company, I'd go mad."
"Control your tongue, boy" Rickard snarled, grey eyes dark like a stormy sky. "She is as much part of Winterfell as us Starks, show her some respect or I will pull that tongue of yours out."
Theon nodded stiffly, looking away to scoff to himself. He was not afraid of dead Starks.
"Anyway, you don't have a choice. Robb's waiting."
"I don't want to go."
"Neither do I. But Robb's Lord of Winterfell, which means I do what he says and you do what I say. Hodor!"
[Hodor enters, hoisting up Bran and carrying him away]
"Hodor" Lyanna smiled seeing her old friend, the mood from before lifting slightly. He looked to be in good health, something she was glad for.
"Help Bran down the hall."
[Tyrion standing in front of Robb and Maester Luwin inside the Winterfell castle.]
"I must say I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit."
"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell."
"Any man of the Night's Watch, but not I, eh, boy?"
"I'm not your boy, Lannister. I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."
"Robb" Ned's voice was stern, cold and held a bit of disappointment. "As Lord of Winterfell, you will extend your courtesy to any guest you welcome inside the castle. You will show them the same courtesy whether you like them or not. I taught you better."
"Yes Father, I'm sorry Father" Robb lowered his head. He hated disappointing his father.
"Then you might learn a lord's courtesy."
[Hodor enters carrying Bran.]
"So it's true. Hello Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"
"He has no memory of that day."
"Curious."
"Why are you here?"
"Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt."
"Kneel, Hodor."
"Do you like to ride, Bran?"
"Yes. Well, I mean I did like to."
"The boy has lost the use of his legs."
"What of it? With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."
"I'm not a cripple."
"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it."
"Do you have to drag your father into these things?" Joanna asked.
"I am only saying what is the truth, Mother. Father would rejoice now that I am no longer a dwarf" Tyrion answered with a smile.
Joanna shook her head with a sigh.
"I have a gift for you. Give that to your saddler. He'll provide the rest."
[Tyrion hands a roll of parchment to Maester Luwin.]
"You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and the boy's voice."
"Will I really be able to ride?"
"You will. On horseback, you will be as tall as any of them."
"Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?"
"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things."
"You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."
"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier."
"You have done my son a kindness" Ned Stark stood facing Tyrion Lannister, "for that, I am thankful to you" he lowered his head.
"Please lift your head, Lord Stark" Tyrion said with a tad bit of embarrassment, "think of it as my way of paying you back a little for the... crime my siblings have committed" Tyrion muttered.
Ned nodded his head and took his seat once more.
[Before Tyrion exits Winterfell for the brothel, Theon sees him off in the courtyard.]
"Come to see me off, Greyjoy? Kind of you. Your master doesn't seem to like Lannisters."
"He's not my master."
"Tyrion" Joanna looked at her with warning.
Tyrion rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I have not done it have I?"
"No, but you're very likely to do it, so I'm telling you to behave" Joanna argued.
"Yes Mother" Tyrion mumbled.
"No, of course not. What happened here? Where is Lady Stark? Why didn't she receive me?"
"She wasn't feeling well."
"She's not in Winterfell, is she? Where did she go?"
"My lady's whereabouts..."
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