"You're saying we should convince Catelyn Tully to take a wildling woman as her goddaughter, marry her off to Jon Snow, and humiliate House Stark?" Cersei said.
"Exactly! As long as you, Aunt, can take Lady Catelyn to the dungeons to see Ygritte," Lancelot replied.
"An excellent plan!" A conspiratorial smile spread across Cersei's face.
The next day, Cersei went to the sept in Winterfell. She spent a long time there, praising the Seven alongside Catelyn Tully.
Then, she turned her gaze to the statue of the Mother.
"Oh, Mother! I wonder if your mercy and radiance reach beyond the Wall? Do the women there live in happiness or in agony? Do they harbor grievances in their hearts? Do they face men who abandon them?"
Cersei's words left Catelyn Tully stunned.
What is this southern Queen trying to do?
"Look, Lady Stark! The statue of the Mother seems to have changed. What is that? She is weeping!" Cersei pointed at the statue.
Catelyn turned to look, and sure enough, two trails of tears were sliding down from the statue's eyes.
"This... what is the Mother trying to tell us?" Catelyn asked, looking at Cersei.
"I believe the Mother is weeping for all women in the world, including the one who is about to die—the wildling woman in the dungeon," Cersei said.
Before Catelyn could respond, Cersei continued.
"The Mother's love encompasses all, even those beyond the Wall. We do not know if the women there are happy. Why don't we go to the dungeon together and visit that wildling woman, Lady Stark?" Cersei asked.
Catelyn Tully, though confused, nodded in agreement.
Accompanied by their handmaidens and septas, the two women left the small sept. After they were gone, Lancelot and Arya emerged from the shadows.
For a task like this, he couldn't use Sansa; it had to be Arya.
"We just did something huge, didn't we? We faked a miracle from the Mother and fooled both my mother and the Queen!" Arya said excitedly.
"It's all thanks to the clever Arya. I couldn't have done it alone!" Lancelot ruffled her hair, noticing that it felt softer than when he first arrived in Winterfell.
Feeling Lancelot's touch, Arya narrowed her eyes contentedly.
"I've started listening to Mom recently and brushing my hair. It's just not long enough yet, not like Sansa's," Arya said.
"Some girls look better with short hair than long! It all depends on the barber's skill," Lancelot remarked.
"Why don't you comb my hair for me?" Arya asked, sounding hopeful.
"Doesn't Winterfell have a barber named Tony?" Lancelot asked.
"Tony? Who's that? Our barber is called Benny, I think?" Arya replied.
"Are you sure there isn't a Tony Stark in your family history?" Lancelot asked again.
"Tony Stark? No such person. No one in the history of House Stark has ever had that name," Arya said.
According to the customs of Westeros, naming was simple: just pass down ancestral names generation after generation. It was common for fathers and sons to even share the same name!
For example, Greatjon and Smalljon of House Umber. House Stark had at least several dozen Brandons in its history, and House Targaryen had no shortage of Aegons.
Lancelot went to Arya's bedchamber, picked up a comb, and smoothed out her hair. Then, he took a pair of scissors and gave her a sharp, ear-length bob.
Arya's looks instantly leveled up. She kept checking herself in the mirror.
"So I can be beautiful too! Let's see if Jeyne Poole still calls me 'Horseface Arya' after this!"
With her new hairstyle, Arya's mood seemed to improve drastically. She showed off her hair to everyone she met.
"Arya, it's you! How is this possible? You've become so pretty! No, it's the hair... who cut your hair?"
Jeyne Poole was stunned when she saw Arya and quickly asked.
"I won't tell you! Where is Sansa? I want to see her," Arya said.
"She's playing the lute with Princess Myrcella! Rumor has it the Princess plays as badly as you do!"
Arya stomped hard on Jeyne's foot and ran off.
"Ouch! Arya, you brat! You troublemaker!" Jeyne cursed behind her back.
Arya arrived at her sister's bedroom door and peeked through the window.
Sansa was teaching Myrcella how to play the lute. To Arya's ears, Myrcella's playing sounded worse than that wildling chief's.
That wildling chief, Mance Rayder—his playing was actually better than Sansa's. At the time, Arya had felt an impulse to ask him to teach her, but then her uncle Benjen Stark was set to duel him, so she abandoned the idea.
If Mance Rayder survived, she couldn't very well apprentice herself to the man who killed Uncle Benjen. It would be good enough if she didn't try to assassinate him in the dark.
"Myrcella, you're doing quite well. With more practice in the future, you'll improve even further!" Sansa said, breathing a sigh of relief internally.
Turns out Princess Myrcella is tone-deaf! Not only is her singing worse than mine, but her lute playing is nowhere near my level! Sansa thought to herself.
However, when Sansa noticed a small face pressed against the window, she jumped.
"Aaaah! A ghost!"
Sansa immediately grabbed Myrcella.
Myrcella was startled by Sansa, and both girls started screaming.
"Ghost!"
Their pets, the lioness Joanna and the direwolf Lady, began to roar and growl.
Arya threw the door open.
"It's not a ghost, it's me! Where would a ghost come from in broad daylight?" Arya stood with her hands on her hips, looking at the two of them.
"Two scaredy-cats! You might be older than me, but I can still beat you both!" Arya finished, flexing her muscles for effect.
"It's just you! Arya! Wait... why have you become so pretty?" Sansa patted her chest, exhaling a long breath.
"Just a little sister coming to check on what you're doing! But yes, I am prettier now, thanks to Brother Lancelot cutting my hair! He's so talented, hahaha!" Arya laughed.
"You said Brother Lancelot cut your hair?" Myrcella calmed down from her panic and asked.
"That's right, him! Who knew he was a barber too?"
"Where is he? I want him to cut my hair too!" Myrcella demanded.
"I want him to cut my hair too!" Sansa added.
"No rush for that. Besides coming to see you, I have a secret to tell you!"
Arya whispered.
"A secret? About whom? Brother Lancelot?" Myrcella asked.
Arya shook her head. "About Jon!"
Sansa and Myrcella both looked uninterested.
But Arya closed the door, pulled both their heads under the quilt, crawled in herself, and began to tell them Jon's secret.