[Chapter Size: 4200 Words.]
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Third Person POV
North, 297 AC.
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The next day, Maester Luwin was heading to the Winterfell library to fetch some books before starting his day when he came across an Arctic guard stationed inside. Curious, he approached upon seeing Arya, who was engrossed in some tomes, reading them on a table in front of the woman who served as her guard. Despite the guard already watching him, the maester of Winterfell decided to speak to her. Since Arya had arrived, they hadn't exchanged a single word.
"Arya, I see you're interested in Northern legends," he commented, noticing the titles of the books she had set aside next to her.
Arya paused her reading and looked at Maester Luwin, smiling. "How are you, Maester Luwin? I hope you've been well after all these years..." she said. "I saw you yesterday in the courtyard and even at the banquet, but I didn't have the chance to speak with you." Arya had fond memories of Winterfell's maester, so she spoke to him amicably.
"That's true. I just didn't expect to find you here while the sun is barely rising... And what are you searching for?" he asked curiously, smiling.
"Well, I wanted to learn a bit about what happened during the Long Night, 8,000 years ago. I'm exploring what Winterfell's books have to say about it," Arya explained.
"Interesting and curious, Lady Arya. Jon had the same questions more than seven years ago..." he murmured, scratching his chin. "In any case, breakfast hasn't been served yet. Your father asked me to test you and see how your knowledge stands now, and knowing that Jon taught you, I'm curious to find out if you're as sharp as that eleven-year-old boy back then. Would it be all right if we talked for a bit?" Maester Luwin asked.
"Of course, Maester Luwin. We can talk," Arya replied, nodding.
As they conversed, the maester inquired about Arya's education and whether she had truly acquired everything said about Artica. During their discussion, Luwin couldn't help but be impressed by Arya's knowledge as they delved deeper into their conversation, with Arya revealing much of what she had learned.
Later, Arya found herself having breakfast with her family again in the main hall. Septa Mordane's chair was empty that morning, signaling that she had indeed left Winterfell. Arya ate calmly, without any conflict with her family, while chatting with Bran and answering some of her mother's questions.
"Arya, let's go to the courtyard," Bran suggested, but Catelyn was quicker.
"Sorry, Bran. But I'd like to take your sister to do some sewing. Besides, don't you have lessons with Maester Luwin this morning?" Catelyn said in a serious tone.
Bran pouted, but Arya said nothing. She knew she couldn't avoid it forever and agreed to go with her mother.
In the end, Arya went to the sewing lesson with her mother, sister, and Sansa's friends. Mearin and Jill accompanied her to the room, a place Arya hadn't stepped into for a long time. Back then, she was considered incompetent and even wild when it came to skills with needle and thread, among other lady-like talents.
Mearin seemed a bit out of place, looking at Arya. Certainly, he wasn't used to that setting. Arya sat with her friend in a corner, apart from Sansa's friends, who were on the other side. Catelyn, as always, occupied the center. Jill stayed inside the room, while Buri was left outside, expelled by Jill herself.
Usually, the activities would be led by the septa, but since she was away due to personal matters, as Arya would put it, her mother broke the silence.
"Well, Arya. Let's make a dress. You said you practiced elsewhere, didn't you, daughter?" Catelyn asked, her attention focused on Arya.
"Yes, Mother. I learned to embroider a bit with the Arctic dwarves," she replied. After all, the dwarves were very skilled with needles. While the men were adept with hammers, some of the dwarf women traded needles for hammers. However, most preferred sewing. It was no surprise that most of the fabrics and clothes produced in Artica were made by them, as human women preferred working in the harvest, and the giants weren't particularly good at sewing...
Saying that dwarven women had taught Arya made Sansa's friends glance at each other, while Catelyn seemed a bit lost. Sansa and her friends wanted to laugh but forced their lips shut, thinking Arya couldn't possibly have learned to sew in a wild land, especially with the notion that she had learned from dwarves. Their idea of dwarves was rooted in the Westerosi concept, not the Artican race. But Arya didn't mind.
"Well, shall we begin?" Catelyn asked. "I'd like to see how you're doing, daughter. So, I'll help you," she said.
Despite all the confusion created the day before, Catelyn still wanted to help her daughter. Arya merely nodded and began working with the threads, moving her hands suddenly with great speed after picking up the fabric she had brought to the room. She wanted to use the materials she had purchased in Myr.
The way Arya started threading, passing one thread over another, was surprising. She easily maneuvered the needle from the other side, seeming to pierce the fabric as she began tying a knot. But no one in Winterfell had seen anything like it—except for Mearin, who knew how Arya sewed this way to finish faster.
The girls looked horrified, as if she were simply ruining the threads at first. "Arya..." Catelyn murmured cautiously.
"Mother, I'm doing what I know. Don't worry. Just wait for the final result," Arya said as she continued working on what would ultimately not be the dress her mother had wanted. Instead, she intended to make something better.
No one there seemed able to keep up with her pace, except for Mearin, who began sewing calmly, in a manner different from Catelyn, Sansa, and her friends. They continued to watch Arya as she worked on the garment, though they were not as frozen as the other women.
"That's not a dress," her mother quickly noted. Arya smiled.
"No, it's not. I'm making a cloak for Father," she replied, continuing to sew, crafting the first part of the cloak. Her mother, though frowning, said nothing and let her daughter work, noticing how carefully Arya placed every thread.
Arya kept building the fabric, leaving an opening at the back and space on all sides for the final finishing.
"Incredible. It's well-stitched," Catelyn commented, almost unbelieving, as she touched the fabric and felt its texture, astonished by what Arya had just crafted so roughly. The girls were also a bit stunned.
"Jill, could you hand me the box with bear fur we brought?" Arya asked. Jill retrieved a small box they had brought along with the fabric and placed it beside Arya. She took the bear fur, which was a bit scattered.
They had skinned a bear on their way to Winterfell, and Arya had decided to keep its fur, which she now intended to use. She began finishing the cloak, lining the entire inner part of the fabric, particularly the edges, with a thicker finish for the shoulders, making it very furry. Where she had left the opening, she used a different thread, a gray distinct from the black of the cloak, and began sewing, creating the Stark sigil. It was a winter cloak, very warm, now lined with bear fur.
Everyone there, who hadn't even finished half their dresses and planned to work through the entire morning, watched as Arya completed her cloak. Meanwhile, Catelyn, who had hoped to have a pleasant conversation with her daughter, ended up simply observing Arya's swift and unconventional movements as she sewed. In less than three hours, Arya had finished her cloak, presenting a unique piece.
"I think I'm done. May I go to the courtyard?" Arya said, standing up immediately. Her mother looked at her, speechless.
"Well, I'd hoped we'd talk a bit more," Catelyn murmured, still surprised by the quality of the cloak Arya had made.
"We can leave that for the coming days, Mother. I need to see my people and my brothers this morning," Arya replied. Catelyn, too stunned to argue, simply nodded.
"Let's go, Mearin," Arya said, flashing her characteristic smile. The red-haired woman also stood, leaving the unfinished dress behind. She had maintained the same pace as the other women to appear less hurried, deciding to finish it another day. After all, she had no desire to stay among the southern women.
Meanwhile, in Lord Stark's solar...
"So, she has knowledge in various areas," Lord Stark said, addressing Maester Luwin. He had just heard about Arya directly from the maester after their conversation in the library and was deep in thought.
"Yes, Lord Stark. She shows great promise. She has extensive knowledge of all the houses and even the history of Westeros in detail, as I could discern. Though I didn't have much time to speak with her, there's no doubt she received a remarkable education. She speaks five languages! For a fourteen-year-old girl, that's extraordinary. There's no one like her in Westeros, I can assure you," Maester Luwin replied.
"I see. At least Jon truly took care of her," Ned said, his tone reflective.
"Now that she's here in the North, we can explore more of her knowledge. Perhaps she could even help her siblings if we involve her in their lessons," Maester Luwin suggested.
"That's an excellent idea. Start her with them tomorrow," Ned agreed.
At that moment, a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Jory entered and announced, "Your daughter is here, Lord Stark."
Though surprised, Lord Stark was quick to respond. "Ask her to come in," Ned replied, nodding.
"I'll leave you two alone," Maester Luwin said, excusing himself from the room. Shortly after, Arya entered, carrying the cloak in her hands.
"Father, I made this for you," she said with a smile. Ned stood to examine the gift, clearly surprised.
"This looks wonderful. And with winter coming, it will be very useful..." he remarked, admiring the fabric before embracing his daughter. Taking advantage of the moment, he added, "Arya, sit down. I'd like to talk privately now that we have a chance to do so without the distraction of travel."
She nodded, and he hung the cloak on a rack in the solar. Sitting across from his daughter, he began.
"Well, you know Jon was here, don't you?" Ned asked. Arya nodded.
"Yes, I know that very well. He told me what happened," she replied. "And believe me, if he had punched you, you wouldn't have been in good shape," she added with a faintly ironic smile.
Ned sighed, reflecting on her words. "Yes, your brother wasn't very happy with me back then, and I can understand him. Honestly, I'm still not sure if he is, and I wouldn't blame him..." he confessed.
"He's not my brother; he's my cousin. So stop calling him that," Arya corrected firmly. "But I still love him and understand his anger. You were negligent with him here," she continued, pausing as the room fell silent.
But Lord Stark broke the silence with a weary tone. "I think you're right," he admitted. He knew he could have improved his relationship with Jon, but his fears had led him to let the boy suffer. "I only hope to see him one day and have the chance to apologize. My sister made me promise to protect him, but I failed. I don't want him to think I neglected him until the end of our days," he said, fearful of never seeing Jon again. The idea that everything had ended with that crypt argument left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn't told anyone what happened that day, and Arya was the first person he confided in.
Wanting to move on while Arya remained silent, he changed the subject. "Anyway, are you going to tell me what happened in Dorne? I don't think Jon kidnapped a girl so easily..." Ned asked, trying to understand the situation better. He had heard from Lord Wendel, who relayed Arya's account in White Harbor, but everything seemed confusing.
"Well, he married her," Arya replied. "And she was pregnant with his child, which is why he captured her. But she's not a bastard as you think, Father. She is Rhaenys Targaryen, Elia's daughter. She survived the Sack of King's Landing."
Ned widened his eyes, stunned. "She survived? But how is that possible? I saw her burned body myself, brought as proof of her death," he murmured, recalling the horror of that day.
"I don't know the details, but Oberyn Martell managed to rescue her. He probably staged it with a false body, another girl..." Arya replied.
Ned nodded slowly, remembering how it had enraged him, prompting him to seek justice against the Lannisters, even confronting Robert, who had simply dismissed the children, calling them mere dragon spawn.
"Well... I can say I'm glad. But then, Jon married her," Ned remarked, still surprised. He couldn't help but feel a certain discomfort with Jon embracing such a peculiar Targaryen tradition.
"Not just her," Arya corrected. "We took Daenerys Targaryen during our journey to Essos and separated her from her foolish brother. He wanted to sell her to the Dothraki in the desert, but Jon intervened. Both Targaryen women are with him now, and Jon plans to marry Daenerys in Artica..."
"So, he has four wives?" Ned concluded, thoughtful.
"Five," Arya interjected. Ned looked at her, surprised, but she continued, "Jon got into a fight in Yi Ti, but there's something I haven't told you yet. Princess Hiyori of Yi Ti was brought to Artica to marry Jon, with Jon being hailed as a hero of the empire on the other side of the world..."
"Five wives? Well, that seems unusual even for the Targaryens," Ned murmured, shaking his head. Arya simply shrugged.
"What can I say? Jon has decided he's going to have a big family," she replied, looking at the table.
A heavy silence settled between them for a moment before Ned broke it again.
"About what happened in Winterfell when Jon came here last time... there's one thing. Jon has a... doesn't he?" Ned asked, swallowing hard. Arya understood what he meant.
"If you're talking about a dragon, yes, Jon has one. An adult dragon," she replied, omitting information about Jon having more dragons. Arya knew that could be used against Artica. Ned nodded, though reluctantly. He had to accept what he had seen: the creature flying overhead, its wings slicing through the air—obviously a dragon, as he had suspected. Hearing it confirmed made him tremble internally. Jon was already strong enough, but now, with a dragon and more Targaryens... A fight could arise, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.
Once again, Ned broke the silence. "You know, when Jon was here in Winterfell speaking with me, he left some projects with Luwin. Luwin said you might be able to help since you have knowledge of agriculture," Ned said. Jon had given some ideas to implement in the North when he was just eleven, and they were already yielding results. Perhaps, with Arya's help, they could improve them further.
"Of course. Let me see them," Arya replied with a shrug.
Ned began pulling out the documents, and the two delved into a discussion about the projects. He used the opportunity to ask questions about Artica and its agriculture while they worked together.
By late morning, Arya left her father's solar to speak with her men. She organized the camp and checked on how they were adapting, ensuring everything was in order. Afterward, she returned to Winterfell's main hall for the midday meal.
In the afternoon, Arya took her two younger brothers outside the walls, much to their mother's scandalized disapproval. They went, and it didn't take long before the direwolves appeared amidst the Arctic camp. Bran and Rickon were enchanted by the massive creatures. Though the wolves were friendly, they didn't allow Bran to climb on them as he wanted. Nevertheless, the boys petted the wolves, marveling at their size and majesty.
Back in Winterfell, Arya returned to the courtyard, where she saw her brother Robb training with the others. He was helping Bran shoot the bow again. The scene remained peaceful until an irritating voice interrupted.
"Hey, Arya! I heard you killed people on your way here. Hard to believe. Why don't you come fight with us and prove it?" Theon Greyjoy said in a provocative tone. Arya glared at him.
"Theon, I won't let you provoke my sister like that," Robb said, trying to defend Arya.
But Arya stepped forward, wearing a challenging smile. "Well, you can try. Though your hand is still injured from what Jon did over seven years ago. Can you even handle a sword?" Arya taunted.
The comment wiped the smile off Theon's face, replacing it with an expression of anger as he glared at Arya. The provocation had clearly hit its mark.
"What did you say? That I can't beat a woman? Is that what you're saying?" Theon growled.
"Theon, I'm not going to let you talk to my sister like that!" Robb said again, trying to defuse the situation.
"She's provoking me, Robb! I won't stand for it," he snarled. Before Robb could intervene, Arya was already stepping closer.
"Let me fight him. Since he loves to talk so much, let's see if he can back it up in a fight," Arya said calmly, as she grabbed a training sword from a nearby basket.
"Arya, I can't let you fight like this. Your father wouldn't approve," Ser Rodrik approached, concerned. Most of the training sessions had stopped as the others turned to watch the unfolding argument.
"It's fine. Only what I can handle is allowed, so don't worry," Arya replied, watching as Theon angrily picked up another training sword.
Ser Rodrik sighed, resigned, but decided he would intervene if Arya was in danger. He knew Ned would never let his daughter get hurt, but he silently thanked the gods that Lady Stark wasn't on the balcony—this would have caused an uproar.
"Very well, but if it gets out of hand, I'll stop this fight. Understood?" he said, looking at both sides. He observed Theon, whose expression was full of fury, while Arya seemed entirely calm. Robb, on the other hand, was visibly worried. He feared that if Theon hurt Arya, he would be held responsible. Despite the rumors about his sister, Robb still didn't fully believe Arya could defeat Theon, especially wearing a dress.
As soon as Ser Rodrik signaled the start of the fight, everyone was shocked. Theon attempted to attack Arya, but she quickly countered, striking his legs with precision and causing him to fall to the ground, groaning in pain.
"Well, that was quick. Now get out of my sight," Arya said disdainfully, as Theon clutched his leg, staring at her in disbelief. Everyone around was stunned—even Ser Rodrik was at a loss for words. Bran, however, was thrilled and ran over to Arya.
"You..." Theon, still on the ground, glared at Arya with hatred, but before he could say anything, a deep voice interrupted him.
"Go on, boy. Keep talking, and you'll lose your head," Buri, Arya's royal guard, said from beside Theon. The Ironborn man looked up, startled and fearful of the guard, who stood still but clearly ready to draw his sword and kill him if necessary.
"Can we end this now?" Ser Rodrik exclaimed, trying to regain control of the situation before it escalated further. "Theon, leave now! Take him away," he ordered a few men, who approached Theon and escorted him out, dispersing the tense atmosphere.
"Well, why don't we continue some training, Robb?" Arya suggested, turning to her older brother, who looked stunned but was now beginning to process what had just happened.
The silence was broken by Bran, who exclaimed excitedly, "Robb, fight Arya! She beat Theon so easily. I bet you can't beat her either!"
Robb, finally snapping out of his shock, nodded. He grabbed a sword and walked over to where Arya stood, already prepared.
"Let's go, Robb. I won't be as cruel with you," Arya said calmly, flashing a smile.
"Don't get too cocky, Arya!" he exclaimed, readying his sword.
As soon as Ser Rodrik signaled the start of the fight, the two advanced, wooden sword against wooden sword. Arya wasn't as aggressive as she had been with Theon, making the fight more balanced. Robb, however, was surprised by his sister's skills. She kept up the pressure without leaving any openings for him to attack. It was a controlled, well-matched duel.
Robb tried to create an opening, but he soon realized his sister was skilled enough to defend herself and attack with precision. While he relied on his strength, Arya remained calm, as if she didn't consider him a serious opponent. This began to frustrate him.
"You're comparing me to him, aren't you?" Robb said suddenly, almost unconsciously. Arya raised an eyebrow.
"Are you talking about Jon?" she asked. Arya truly had no intention of humiliating him. For her, this was just a friendly spar. However, since the subject had been brought up, she knew she'd have to address it eventually.
"You know I'm talking about him! You're comparing me to him again!" Robb exclaimed, trying to strike her harder.
"I'm not doing that. After all, you are you, and Jon is Jon," she replied, parrying his attacks. But then she added, "However, I see that guilt and jealousy are consuming you, brother."
"I'm not jealous! Nor do I feel guilty!" he snarled, growing more aggressive. Ser Rodrik, who was watching the fight, grew concerned as he noticed Robb beginning to lose control.
"You know," Arya continued, remaining calm as she parried his attacks, "I've never thought of you as a bad person. And I still don't. However, there are sins you've been part of, Robb, that are hard to ignore. You are the oldest wolf of the litter, and the next generation of Winterfell looks to you for leadership. But you acted without honor," she said, continuing to block his furious strikes.
"I am an honorable person!" he shouted, his voice rising, now drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
"Are you sure about that?" Arya asked, raising an eyebrow as she continued to fight. "You know that even if you didn't create the chaos, you were still part of it. You neglected to tell our father the truth, and we lost a brother that day. All because you refused to take responsibility for something you and Theon were involved in, finding support with our mother, fueling the hatred she harbored for Jon, simply because he wasn't her child. Do you truly feel honorable about that?" she asked with mockery.
Arya spoke as she defended herself, the sound of wood clashing against wood echoing through the courtyard. The battle seemed balanced, and more and more people gathered, surprised to see the youngest Stark daughter holding her own against the heir of Winterfell.
"That's not true!" Robb shouted again, his voice carrying for all to hear, as he tried to strike Arya once more. But Arya decided it was time to end this. Her brother was already out of control, and even Bran's once joyful face was now filled with worry as he watched.
With a swift motion, Arya struck Robb's hand, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his wooden sword. Then, she hit his heel with force, eliciting another shout. Robb fell to the ground, clearly defeated.
His gaze met Arya's, who looked at him firmly. "There's still time for redemption, brother. If you don't, you'll dishonor the Starks and never be a true Lord of Winterfell while you continue to think like a Squid or even a Trout," she said. "You're a wolf of the North. Don't let jealousy consume you, brother. In any case, our fight is over."
Arya turned and walked away as Robb, without saying a word, slowly got up and left the area.
"Robb!" Ser Rodrik called out, but Robb didn't respond, leaving with his head bowed.
Meanwhile, Bran ran up to Arya, jumping around her in admiration. "Arya, you're amazing! You beat Robb!" he exclaimed excitedly.
"Bran, step aside. The fight isn't over yet. I need another one," Arya said, turning to Ser Rodrik. Bran was surprised to see his sister finally unsheathing Dark Sister.
"Ser Rodrik, I recall us talking yesterday about a fight. Why not settle it now? A steel duel. Don't worry about me; after all, I'll take it easy on you," she said, flashing a smile.
Ser Rodrik was stunned, while those around murmured in astonishment. Finally, after what he had witnessed, he nodded and accepted the challenge, stepping to the side to retrieve his sword and prepare for their duel.
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