A Game of Lies

Balerion the Black Dread

Lewyn had to wait for Arya, outside the tower of the Hand, as she hadn't yet finished her dancing lessons. The heat was unbearably dry, and so he'd sat inside, on the stairs, waiting.

"He's a master fencer, and he was the First Sword of Braavos!" She exclaimed after she'd finished with Syrio Forel, as they made their way across the yard.

Lewyn had asked why he was the former First Sword of Braavos, but she had not known.

He'd liked Syrio Forel instantly. Neither him nor Arya knew the truth, that Syrio had been hired, to deter Arya from playing or practicing with Lewyn. Lord Stark's plan had failed miserably, though, as the two ran about, causing mischief, or sword fighting, each switching between styles at random, keeping the other on their toes, all day, almost every day.

As the day drew on, the heat worsened considerably, and Arya and Lewyn had made their way to the castle, where they found but little relief.

They talked of armor, and swords, and fighting, as they walked the lower halls of the castle. It wasn't until an old, dirty tom cat, still quick on his feet, darted out before them, that they did anything but a slow, lazy walk.

No, Arya had instantly dashed after the cat, whom ran madly now down the halls. Lewyn took off after her.

"What are we doing?", he asked, out of breath.

"Syrio says", she huffed, "if you can catch a cat, if you can outsmart one", she said making a sharp turn, pulling Lewyn with her.

"Syrio say's you'll be a better fighter, if you study the cat", she finished.

Neither of them caught the animal, though the God's know they both tried. It had led them deep into the bowels of King's Landing. And that's where it eluded them, no longer in sight.

"We're lost!", Arya said hopelessly, spinning around then.

"We're not lost", Lewyn laughed. He'd spent his whole childhood exploring these dungeons. He felt drawn to them. Especially the one with the...

The idea struck him then.

"Would you like to see something?", he asked Arya suddenly.

"What?", she asked him.

"Dragons!", he whispered.

She rolled her eyes.

"There are no dragons, Lewyn", she said, crossing her arms to her chest.

"No", he said, walking forward, knowing she'd follow, "but there are skulls".

And he'd led her all the way to the chamber, where the skulls had been stored. Arya was in awe, as they entered, and the light from his torch illuminated the massive statue like figures.

Lewyn walked to the biggest skull, laying his hand just below the creatures empty eye socket.

"Aren't they fantastic?", he asked her as he admired the skull his hand rest upon, "I call this one Balerion", he said.

"The Black Dread?", Arya asked. Her Maester had taught her of Balerion the Black Dread.

"Yeah!", he exclaimed excitedly.

"I only call it that, because it's the biggest here. I'm not sure if it's really Balerion, I doubt it, really, but I can't image they get much bigger than this. And I dreamed-", but he stopped then, suddenly turning back to the dragon's skull, quieting, as if the dragon itself had shushed him.

In truth, Arya found herself frightened of the creatures, their jagged, razor sharp teeth. But Lewyn looked on them, lovingly, even naming them. Arya dared walk closer though, running her hand down one of the beast's teeth. Lewyn just stood, an odd smile on his face, as he stared into the dragon's empty eye, his head cocked to the side a bit, as his hand still rest in the same spot.