The Heir of Winterfell

At the corner of the corridor, Arya cautiously poked her little head out and observed the two burly guards stationed beside her father's study door.

I need to find a way to lure the guards away... climb through the window... but it's daytime... Arya's little face scrunched up. No wonder Syrio had disagreed with her plan—the difficulty really had increased quite a bit.

She could not suppress the curl of her lips. Even the elegant Syrio had things he could not do.

"What are you doing?"

Arya had been smiling smugly when the sudden voice behind her made her shudder in fright.

She turned around... and immediately said angrily, "You awful Sansa, did you scare me on purpose?!"

She was filled with annoyance. She had not even noticed Sansa sneaking over. When had she let her mind wander? The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

Sansa wore a dark green, round-necked lady's dress. Like their mother, she had thick auburn hair and blue eyes... Seeing that smug look on her face made the Little Wolf Girl even angrier.

Looking at the puff-cheeked Arya, Sansa gently raised a hand and elegantly smoothed her long curls. "Annoying little sister, there's something wrong with what you said. You failed to notice me; it wasn't that I deliberately tried to scare you. As your sister, I have no choice but to kindly remind you that you should be more careful when you're doing something bad. Fortunately, this is Winterfell."

Arya stamped her feet in fury. "I don't need your kindness!"

She suddenly paused, her lively gray eyes shifting. "...I know. Stingy Sansa, you're still jealous that Father named me a swordswoman of Winterfell!"

Sansa's little hands instantly clenched into fists, and her face reddened. "No, I'm not! I'm teaching my little