This quickly finished its food and turned toward where the small being had moved earlier.
Although their time together was short, This felt a subtle pull toward it. The small thing was simple.
Easy to understand.
This did not dislike that.
The small being was, unsurprisingly, finished with its small piece of meat. Now it only sat silently behind This's chair. It didn't seem to be thinking much, only sitting quietly and looking at the floor, perhaps hungry for more.
After eating, This had intended to rest. It wasn't enjoyable being stuck in the darkness, but there were still many memories This had to go through in the Mindscape. But after eating and feeling its energy increase, This decided to go back outside. It wasn't sure whether it would study more or enjoy the cold, but for now, it didn't feel too keen on resting.
Standing up with minimal difficulty, This looked outside the see-through wall. The light was still quite bright, but This felt it would soon get dark. So, not wasting any time, This left its room.
The small being followed.
Walking through the dark corridors of Winterfell, This absent-mindedly began to practice speaking new words.
Since the first time it had found books, This had made a habit of spending every free moment bettering its understanding of human language.
"So… rryy… Sooo… rrryyy…" This had heard this word many times in Sansa's memories, and even from other humans recently. It seemed to be some sort of way to make all humans stop being angry.
This felt that the word was extremely important.
Bang!
Hearing a loud sound, This was instantly drawn away from its idle practice.
Not far from where it was, a loud thudding sound repeated at irregular intervals. This couldn't tell what the sound was or find anything to compare it to, but that only made it curious.
Following the sound, This found itself near a door within the castle it had not known of before.
Although This hadn't gone through all of Sansa's memories, it felt fairly comfortable with the layout of its new home, but this door was something it had not seen before.
As This slowly opened the door, a harsh wind instantly struck its face, but this was something it was used to now.
Embracing the cold, This moved toward the sound.
In the distance, This saw two figures moving across an open space.
In their hands, they each held long wooden objects.
This recalled seeing something similar in Sansa's memories.
Swords… Although they looked slightly different from the images it had seen in Sansa's memories.
Moving closer, This began to recognize the two humans.
Yet they didn't notice This at all; their eyes were still and firm, only focused on each other. They were Sansa's brothers.
Jon and Robb.
This couldn't understand what they were doing. If This had to guess, it looked like they were attempting to hit one another with the swords.
They swung repeatedly, but neither strike landed. Their wooden swords met again and again with a sharp crack, forcing them apart each time, the sound carrying across the open yard.
Taking the opportunity while neither of them was looking, This moved closer and silently settled behind a tall pillar.
This had only intended to find the cause of the sound, but now, watching them do something it could not understand, it quickly found a subtle interest.
Not watching idly, This observed every moment, taking in everything it could.
Kill…
The word from earlier returned to This's mind. This compared it to what it was seeing.
This had grown more familiar with human feelings, but the feelings they were emitting were not the same as those it had experienced.
Yet there was still a similarity.
This still couldn't tell exactly what "kill" meant, but it felt that whatever it was watching was closer to the truth than what it had been searching for.
As This watched, Sansa's body slowly lowered into the snow until its head rested against its knees.
Was this how humans used the urge "kill"?
This's thoughts drifted deeper into what it was seeing.
Maybe "kill" wasn't what This thought it was. It wasn't about eating, nor wiggles, but more about the bite?
This continued to watch, thinking deeply as it observed each of their movements carefully.
…
This hadn't paid attention to the time; perhaps it had been hours. Eventually, Jon and Robb stopped.
They spoke for a moment. Although This couldn't hear them, it still watched their lips and movements closely, and soon after, they began walking… toward This.
Did they see This? Although This didn't mind humans noticing it, This felt it was better not to be seen.
It could already envision the humans' faces and the long questions they'd ask.
Watching them keenly, This noticed that they never looked directly in its direction, nor made any sign of noticing it. But they were still walking toward This, or perhaps to the door it had come through.
As they came closer, This decided not to be seen. This wasn't entirely sure why it chose so, but guided by its choice, This grabbed the small being by the nape and shifted around the pillar as they walked past.
Thankfully, the small being made no noise.
With the small being in its hand, This watched them walk past, open the door, and enter the castle.
With the two brothers gone, This slowly rose from its half-crouched position, shifting its sight between the shut door and the place where they had been doing their odd movements.
After waiting a moment, This finally felt the brothers were truly gone, and walked to the spot where they had been doing their movements.
This had intended to pick up a sword as they had, but was caught off guard by the area's distinct smell. Unlike the soft smells of its room and clothes, or the mouth-watering smells of food, this smell made This want to cover its nose instantly.
But holding off on the thought, This's attention instead shifted toward the large barrel full of different wooden swords.
Although they were all slightly different, they were unmistakably the things Robb and Jon had used.
Recalling the intense and vivid memories of Jon and Robb, This felt it didn't even need the Mindscape. It went toward the barrel and placed its hand on a wooden stick.
Not thinking twice, This grabbed a stick similar in size to the rest, with a white handle and red hues blended into it.
This had no idea what it was attempting, but guided by the vision of its new brothers, it tried to lift the slightly large stick. But to its dismay, unlike its brothers, This struggled intensely to even lift it from the barrel.
"?…" Not understanding the problem, This attempted it again, yet still failed.
Is This wrong? Releasing its grip on the stick, This briefly closed its eyes and entered its Mindscape without much difficulty, recalling the memories of Sansa's brothers.
In the memories, the brothers often held the stick in one hand, swinging it swiftly. There were only a few times they had used both hands to hold it; This thought its problem lay there.
Opening its eyes, This once again held the stick, first with its right hand, then uncomfortably with its left.
Attempting the same movement as before, and with much difficulty, This managed to lift the stick out of the barrel.
However, the moment This attempted to raise it, the weight shifted violently.
This nearly lost its balance immediately, its arms trembling without control. Yet for a few brief moments, This held it upright, before the stick dipped downward heavily and This awkwardly corrected it with both hands.
Heavy…
This stared deeply at the object.
Jon and Robb had moved these things so easily.
Yet even holding one felt difficult.
With the stick lowered in its hands, This tried to remember every movement precisely.
First their feet, then their arms, and even their breath.
Slowly, This copied the first movement it remembered.
It twisted its body slightly and swung the stick to the side.
The result was terrible.
The moment it committed entirely to the swing, its footing slipped.
It ended with This lying face-first in the cold snow.
Still holding onto the sword, This got back to its feet with a slight frown.
The movement was exactly how it remembered.
But something was missing.
So This tried again.
This time, it copied Robb instead.
Lifting the sword above its head with much effort, This planted its feet firmly. Noticing its arms beginning to give in to the weight, it harshly brought the stick down, striking the ground.
The blade came down much harder than expected, breaking through the thin layer of snow and hitting something solid beneath.
Bang!
The impact vibrated through Sansa's small arms with so much force that This immediately released its wounded hand from the handle.
The weight of the strike had been so unexpected, it nearly pulled This down with it.
The same familiar burn spread through This's fingers, similar to when the small being had bitten it. The burning sensation lingered across its fingers.
Interesting…
The earlier movements from Jon and Robb had looked simple.
But now, This understood they were not.
Unlike This's attempt, the brothers had done these movements with ease, blending each action smoothly into the next.
Breath moved first.
Then feet.
Then arms.
Then impact.
This replayed the memories repeatedly as it stood still.
Grabbing hold of the stick with both hands, This slowly repositioned itself.
As it recalled, This adjusted its feet first.
Then its hands and shoulders.
Focusing intently on the movements, This felt the stick was slightly easier to lift this time.
This copied another movement.
Pointing the tip of the stick toward the ground, This held it tightly and swung it upward as fast as it could.
The stick cut through the air unevenly and didn't have nearly as much force as its other attempt, but This found itself still standing, with no burning sensation in its hands.
Although the movement wasn't nearly as good as Robb's or Jon's, This thought it was better than its previous attempts.
Another attempt followed.
Swinging the sword to the side, This found that its body couldn't handle the force and often fell with it.
Again.
Swinging the stick downward, This often found its hands burning, especially its left.
This noticed, from the corner of its eye, the small being sitting on its behind and watching silently from nearby.
For a moment, This wondered whether it could use the small being to do what Jon and Robb had done, but due to its small size, This decided it was impossible.
As This lifted the stick again, preparing for another swing, a sudden sensation spread through its thoughts.
Not from outside, but inside.
Like a breath of fresh air sweeping across the darkness.
This froze.
Its grip loosened slightly around the sword's handle.
Something felt strange. Without thinking, This closed its eyes and fully immersed itself within its Mindscape. This could feel the difference. The darkness felt thinner somehow. And This could still hear the wind outside.
But it was softer now.
Distant.
At the same time, memories surfaced rapidly.
Some were more familiar, like Jon's footing and Robb's movements.
Others were less so.
The way some humans straightened their backs when speaking.
The way Septa Mordane carried herself differently from the other servants.
The way Mother changed around Father.
The way humans changed in certain moments.
Patterns…
Roles…
New words it hadn't known before were learnt intuitively.
This stood completely still.
The strange feeling deepened.
Then something interrupted the deepening stillness.
Footsteps.
This immediately turned toward the sound.
A smaller figure had entered the yard and was approaching from the doorway.
This could feel their mood slowly dampen as they saw Sansa's face, settling into confusion.
It was Arya, the girl who had called This's smile weird. This hadn't spoken to her much since then, only briefly listening to her speak about Septa or her dislike for learning.
Arya's eyes moved repeatedly between Sansa and the wooden weapon Sansa held.
"…Sansa?" she asked slowly.
This looked at Arya silently.
Arya tilted her head.
"What are you doing?"
This thought carefully.
The answer was simple.
"Movement."
Arya stared.
"What?"
This lifted the sword slightly off the ground with much effort.
"Understanding."
Arya looked even more confused now.
Instead of asking more questions, as This expected, she walked closer toward This.
Her movements were quicker than most humans'.
"I thought you hated swords and fighting?" Arya said suspiciously.
This processed the words carefully.
Hate. Another strange human thing. This understood it as disliking something extremely; it was one of the few words often repeated in Sansa's memories. But This had never hated anything.
Those feelings did not belong to it.
"Sansa did." This answered as honestly as it could.
Arya blinked.
"…What does that even mean?"
This looked down at the wooden sword.
Then at Arya.
Then back again.
This did not know how to explain the difference.
Arya stared at This for several long seconds as the cold wind swept between them.
Then her eyes slowly lowered toward the oversized wooden sword trembling within Sansa's grip.
"…Can you even use that thing?"
This considered the question.
"No."
Arya snorted immediately.
"Hah! I knew it."
Her suspicious expression loosened slightly, though confusion still lingered beneath it. Then, without hesitation, she moved toward the large barrel beside them and dug both hands inside.
A moment later, she pulled out a much smaller wooden sword than the one Sansa held. Unlike the heavier ones Jon and Robb had used, this one was thinner and noticeably easier to move. Arya held it naturally.
Comfortably.
"This one's mine," she said quickly. "Well… not really. But Jon said I could use it sometimes."
Without warning, she swung it twice through the air. The movement was sharp.
Fast.
Far smoother than This's own attempts.
"I need to practice too," Arya muttered while adjusting her footing awkwardly. "I'm bad now, but I won't always be."
This watched carefully.
Arya's movements were smaller than Jon's and lacked Robb's weight, but there was far less hesitation in them.
The difference was obvious. Arya's movements were crude, yet they possessed a strange flow This lacked.
Arya swung again.
"I'm not going to spend my whole life sewing and smiling and marrying some stupid lord," she complained. "Septa keeps saying ladies need grace and courtesy and proper posture—"
Arya's voice became slightly higher as she mocked:
"'A noble woman must be gentle, Arya.'"
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
"I don't want to be gentle."
This listened silently. Another one of Arya's lengthy speeches began. Humans often spoke at length when their feelings were involved. This listened carefully regardless. Sometimes humans revealed important things during these long talks.
Arya suddenly glanced sideways.
"You like all that stuff, though," she muttered. "Songs and dresses and princes."
This thought for a moment. It wasn't sure Arya wanted an answer, but gave one anyway.
"Sansa wanted humans to like her."
Arya froze mid-swing. The wooden sword in her hand slowly lowered.
"…What?"
"So she copied them."
Arya stared at This strangely.
The wind howled softly around them.
"That's…" Arya frowned deeply. "That's a weird thing to say."
This did not respond.
Instead, This looked toward Arya's sword.
Then toward her stance.
Then back at her face.
After a moment, This spoke again.
"Do you want to do the movements together?"
Arya blinked.
"You mean spar?"
This tilted its head slightly.
"Yes."
Arya hesitated.
Her eyes drifted toward the oversized wooden weapon still awkwardly held in Sansa's hands.
"You can barely lift that thing…"
This looked down at the sword.
Then tightened its grip again.
"I can still move it."
Arya stared for another moment before suddenly grinning.
"…Fine."
She stepped backward across the snow, raising her smaller sword.
This mirrored her movements, slowly, from memory, as it lifted the larger wooden weapon with visible strain.
The two faced each other silently beneath the fading evening light.
Then—
"Sansa Stark!"
The sharp voice cut through the courtyard instantly.
Arya visibly flinched.
This turned calmly toward the doorway.
There stood Septa Mordane, wrapped tightly against the cold, her face filled with disbelief and horror as her eyes locked onto the wooden sword in Sansa's hands.