WHISPERS OF THE SHADOW"
Winterfell — Three Days After Bran's Recovery
The castle buzzed with rumors.
A boy healed.
A shadow seen.
A king restless.
But one person walked the courtyard like someone carrying a secret too heavy for her small shoulders:
Arya Stark.
She glanced around nervously, making sure Septa Mordane wasn't lurking. When the courtyard cleared, she slipped into the forest path that led to Leo Pendragon's hidden camp.
She needed to say goodbye.
B — Arya's Farewell to the Shadow
Leo was cleaning a strange-looking blade when he sensed her presence.
"You walk too loudly," he said without looking back.
Arya groaned. "I snuck past two guards and a septa."
"And stepped on four branches."
She crossed her arms. "You didn't have to say that."
Leo smiled lightly — a rare expression.
"You're leaving for King's Landing," he said. "I know."
Arya hesitated before nodding.
"I wanted to… to thank you. For saving me. And for the food. And for not telling Father."
Leo stood, dusting off his arm.
"You kept my secret. I keep yours."
She bit her lip.
"Will I see you again?"
Leo crouched so he was eye-level with her — his metal arm glinting in the firelight.
"Arya Stark, listen to me."
Her eyes widened.
"You're stronger than you know. And you will face things far worse than a bear. But you'll survive. You'll fight. And when the time comes…"
He placed a small wrapped object in her hand.
"You'll know how to use this."
She unwrapped it —
and gasped.
A thin, light dagger, perfectly balanced, sharper than anything she'd held.
"Is this… adamantium?"
Leo nodded. "A girl with a list will need a blade that never breaks."
Arya didn't understand what he meant yet.
But she hugged him tightly.
"Goodbye, Shadow."
"Goodbye, little wolf."
And then she ran back to the castle, clutching the dagger like a secret flame.
D — Robert Baratheon Confronts Ned Stark
That evening, Ned was called to the king's private chamber.
Robert was halfway through a barrel of ale, but his face was serious — far more serious than usual.
"Ned… I need to ask something."
Ned bowed his head. "Anything, Your Grace."
Robert leaned forward, voice dropping low.
"I keep hearing stories. About a man with a metal arm. A ghost in your woods. A shadow with a sword no smith can forge."
Ned kept his expression calm.
"Rumors travel fast in the North."
"Rumors," Robert snorted. "Ned, I fought alongside you. I know what men can do — and what they can't."
He jabbed a thick finger toward Ned.
"Someone healed your boy. Someone protected your family. Someone killed a bear with his bare hands."
Ned said nothing.
Robert's tone softened unexpectedly.
"If someone like that is in the North… I want to know whether he's friend or foe."
Ned finally answered:
"He saved my son's life."
Robert grunted.
"That makes him a friend. For now."
But there was something else in the king's eyes:
Fear.
And awe.
As if the shadow reminded him of something he couldn't punch, drink, or laugh away.
E — Jaime Warns Cersei
That same night, Jaime Lannister stood in Cersei's chamber, cloak dripping from the evening rain, expression tight with barely contained urgency.
Cersei closed the door behind him.
"What is it?"
Jaime didn't sit.
"There's someone here… someone dangerous."
Cersei frowned. "Dangerous how?"
Jaime took a breath.
"The boy — Bran — should be crippled. Or dead. Instead, he walks."
Cersei went pale.
"That's impossible."
"No," Jaime said sharply. "It's him."
"Who?"
"The shadow. The man with the metal arm."
Cersei's breath hitched.
"So the rumors are true?"
Jaime nodded.
"I found his tracks. He confronted me."
Cersei's face tightened in fear she refused to show.
"What did he say?"
Jaime swallowed.
"He told me Bran remembers nothing. That he made sure of it."
Cersei exhaled shakily, gripping a table for balance.
"Then he saved us."
"No," Jaime whispered. "He spared us."
Cersei froze.
Jaime continued, voice trembling with something he hadn't felt in years — dread.
"He warned me. Calmly. As if killing me would be a small inconvenience."
Cersei's mind spun.
"Is he with the Starks? Is Ned using this… thing against us?"
"No," Jaime said quickly. "He doesn't belong to Ned."
"Then who commands him?" she whispered.
Jaime looked her directly in the eyes.
"No one. And that's what frightens me."
Cersei stood perfectly still.
A shadow that healed.
A shadow that threatened.
A shadow that spared them… for now.
"We need to be careful," she said.
"For once," Jaime agreed.
ENDING SCENE
Leo stood at the edge of Winterfell's walls, the cold wind brushing against his hair.
He could feel the tension shifting.
Arya's departure.
Ned's fear.
The king's suspicion.
Cersei and Jaime's terror.
Every thread in the tapestry of fate was beginning to vibrate.
The timeline was moving.
The game had begun.