[300 AC]
Wooden sword in hand, Arya danced through the empty and well-lit room that was part of her and her sister's quarters, along with a half-a-dozen other rooms.
After being taken in by the temple, asking for a wooden practice sword had been one of the first things she had done, before taking up her training in Water Dancing again, with the primary goal being to gain some semblance of strength to protect herself.
While being held hostage in the Red Keep, the most profound lesson the young Stark girl had learned was that power was the ultimate tool. With it, one can do just about anything, but without it, one would constantly be at the mercy of those stronger than oneself.
Having witnessed the Red God's descent over King's Landing, Arya also knew that personal strength was much, much more valuable than any kind of authority.
The things Syrio had told her about the god of the Red Temple and his personal guard had become the goal that she had set herself, the goal that she had promised herself to strive towards.
Arya had not hesitated to pester the High Priest that had taken them under his protection, after she had realised that he would not harm her for just being persistent, much to her sister's displeasure.
Finally, she had managed to get Thoros to agree to bring up her request with the Red God, who she knew was in the temple from time to time.
Hearing footsteps approaching, the young girl stopped her practice, as she faced the entrance only to see the High Priest step into her training room, his mannerism subdued but somehow still exuding pure might.
Right behind him though was a silver-haired woman in a warrior's attire Arya had never seen before, though the female warrioress gave off a feeling that was much more dangerous than the High Priest.
The woman's crystal eyes were shining with a calm light, but the Stark girl felt as if a silent predator was staring at her intently, revealing all her secrets with but a gaze and looking for her weaknesses, ready to pounce on her at anytime.
The back of her neck tingled with an overwhelming sense of danger, as Arya's body slowly froze up in fright.
The young girl didn't know who that exceptionally beautiful woman was, but she instinctively knew that despite her enchanting appearance, the warrioress was the most powerful being she had ever faced.
"Arya, this is Ruyu, a Feather under the command of the Red God and a member of his personal guard.", Thoros introduced with an even and respectful tone, "The Lord has sent her with me to test and train you for a period of two years, before he will personally decide if you are worthy to be accepted amongst their ranks."
Hearing these words, shock and exhilaration fought a hard battle in Arya's mind as she was seemingly a major step closer to her goal, though another look at the silent Feather had her wonder if things would really go as smoothly as she imagined.
Somehow she truly doubted that this would be the case.
…
Looking at the joyful and frightened girl before, Ruyu sighed internally, knowing that the girl's apprehension was well-founded.
These next two years of apprenticeship, if the girl chooses to accept her Lord's offer, would be anything but simple. Her apprenticeship wouldn't really be a test of her talent as a combatant or fighter, as this was not an important criterium for a Feather.
The things she, and her brothers and sisters, would try to find in Arya Stark were persistence, commitment, willpower, and mental endurance. Of course, they would have her undergo rigorous physical training to push her to her limits and excavate her potential in those areas, but it didn't matter how good a fighter she was in the end, as long as she had the will to never give up.
The Feathers all possessed this quality, their hearts and minds being unbreakable fortresses, and for the girl to be one of them, she had to show that this was something she likewise possessed.
…
[300 AC]
[Vale – The Eyrie]
Nervously tapping the inkless feather in his hand against the blank sheet of parchment, Petyr's gaze was unfocused as he thought about the intel he had managed to obtain through his spies.
The Red Temple had suddenly shed any and all pretenses, and unveiled its might to the Seven Kingdoms.
As it stood, the temple already ruled Dorne and the Crownlands, while the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, and the Iron Islands were soon to follow.
The endless schemes and plans that he had formulated with the sole goal of creating chaos in the Realm and rising to power in its wake, had turned to smoke in but an instant, the Red Temple having made his efforts obsolete.
Even worse, Petyr had no idea what to do next, as the admittedly limited information his spies had managed to gather had not aided him in uncovering the next move of the temple, though he did believe that it wouldn't be long before he saw the forces of the Red God arrive in the Vale and crush those that thought to resist the temple's rule.
Having just married Lysa Arryn a few months prior, the newly-titled Warden of the East did not plan to raise arms against the Red Temple though, as he knew full well that the consequences of such an action would be anything but good. There existed no force in the known world capable of resisting the temple, to speak nothing of its god.
So Petyr, despite his love for power and authority, would do the only smart thing and submit to the Red Temple in hopes of retaining at least some of his power and more importantly his life.
He had seen what happened to those resisting the temple while in King's Landing, the hideous grimace frozen on the Spider's severed head haunting him in his dreams still. It had been one of the reasons why he had left King's Landing, to minimize the possibility of being targeted by the temple, which now seemed like the wisest decision he had made in a long while.
Sighing quietly, Petyr regained his focus and began to write an invitation to Lamos, the High Priest stationed in the Vale, as he knew that it may be better to take the initiative when declaring himself well-intentioned to the Red Temple's goals.
"ROOAAAARRRRR!"
Suddenly though a deafening roar shook the atmosphere and rumbled destructively through the land, causing Petyr's eardrums to burst without fail.
Shielding his bleeding ears from the echo with a horrified grimace on his face, Petyr tried to lift himself from the seat with trembling limbs and catch a glimpse through the window to know what was going on.
Before he could do so though, fire consumed his vision as his whole figure was turned to ashes the next instant.