Chapter Text
Arya's arrival had brought mixed feelings to Winterfell. Of course, Robb was happy to see her, and less than happy to play host to the Lannisters. But more troubling than the Lannisters was the letter Arya carried.
Robb was worried to begin with when Arya gave him the letter-one Tywin Lannister had charged her to deliver to him directly. It meant he did not trust a raven to carry the words. Reading the letter, Robb saw why.
"Broken vows often have a way of collecting their debts. Some families may be plotting to collect theirs. Beware the Freys and more than that, beware the Boltons and all those aligned with them. They are not your allies, Lord Stark."
Robb had known to be wary of the Freys ever since he took Talisa to wife. But beware the Boltons? That was a new warning to Robb. More importantly, how did Tywin know that he should beware the Boltons? Had they tried to make some deal in the past when Robb was still in rebellion?
There were no specifics in the letter, perhaps because specifics would reveal Tywin's past plans, which Robb suspected were less than honorable. Now that the lion was determined to keep peace with their family, could his warnings be trusted?
His mother seemed equally worried by the note. "If Roose Bolton and Walder Frey are our enemies, we do have reason to fear," she said. "I've learned to fear words not delivered by raven."
"And what can I do?" Robb asked. "If I accuse Roose Bolton of treachery without proof or cause then that could throw the north into a civil war."
"We don't need to accuse him. We only need to watch him," Catelyn said. "All of the northern lords will be coming to court in a few days' time. This is an opportunity to observe Bolton and to see who is aligned with him." She paused for a moment, thinking "I...suggest you ask your sister what she thinks of all this."
"Arya?" Robb asked. "What would she know about it?"
"She has been in King's Landing for the past few years, near to Tywin," she reminded him. "He may have said something more to her."
"Tywin would not share this kind of information with a ward," Robb said.
"Perhaps not. But you know Arya. She absorbs everything like a sponge," Catelyn said.
That was true enough. And it struck Robb as odd that Tywin would trust Arya to carry the letter instead of one of his guards. Not to mention the sword at her hip. That was a very fine blade that he allowed her to carry. He could not help but wonder if Arya had found favor with her captor.
Robb could not fathom how anyone could find favor with that man. He was inscrutable and unmovable. Even so...it did not hurt to ask.
Since returning home, Arya spent a fair amount of time wandering the grounds, especially on days with a clear sky. So Robb also had to wander in order to find her. Eventually he tracked her to the courtyard where she was standing opposite Brienne, turning a sparring sword in her hand. Jaime Lannister was sitting off to the side watching them, wrapping the stump of his wrist with another layer of fabric to protect from the cold.
"I'm not quite sure of this, Lady Arya," Brienne said.
"I can't cut you with a sparring sword," Arya pointed out.
"That's...not what I mean," Brienne said.
"Don't underestimate her, my lady," Jaime called out. "That's her greatest advantage in the field."
"Then perhaps you shouldn't have given it away," Arya cast him a glare.
Jaime smirked and shrugged.
Robb looked on, fascinated. There was a strange familiarity between them. At the very least, Arya did not speak to him as if he was her captor. She did not seem wary of him at all.
"Ignore him," Arya told Brienne. "Just come at me with your best. I did not get near as much practice as I wanted while on the road."
Brienne sighed at last and nodded. "Very well." She adjusted her grip on her sparring sword, then swung at Arya.
Arya took a step back, just far enough to avoid the tip of the blade. Brienne struck again and she dodged again, sidestepping and nudging the blade with her sparring sword to redirect it. Brienne seemed to be testing her to make sure that she could, indeed, carry herself in a fight.
To Robb's surprise...she could. Her footwork was rather effortless as she dodged and redirected Brienne's blows. Her expression did not even shift. She was completely calm and unreadable.
"Dodging is her specialty," Jaime said. "You'll never hit her like that."
Arya cast him a glare. "Why are you helping her? Shouldn't you be on my side?"
"I want to see you both fight at your best. What's wrong with that?" Jaime waved his stump of a hand. "I can't fight at my best anymore. You-watch out!"
Arya spun to the side to avoid another attack from Brienne. The taller woman kept a straight face, but Robb could see the amusement in her eyes.
"You shouldn't let him distract you," Brienne said. "That will lose you this fight quickly."
Arya grinned. "Okay then. I won't."
The two women began to fight in earnest then. Robb could not help but watch. Brienne was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, partly owing to her outstanding strength and speed. She was a woman, but she was larger than many of his men. She had been a great help to them in quelling the Greyjoy rebellion.
But Arya...Arya was keeping pace with her.
She did not have Brienne's strength, but she matched her in speed. She fought with one hand and relied mostly on intricate foot work to keep one step ahead of her opponent. She never blocked the full force of Brienne's blows. Brienne would knock her down if she tried. She was just redirecting the momentum.
They circled around each other over and over again in the courtyard, Arya dodging and attacking fluidly, like water, while Brienne bore down on her with the brute force of a knight. Then Arya's left foot slipped on a patch of snow and Brienne knocked her back with the butt of her sword. Arya fell flat on her back with a gasp and Brienne moved forward, prepared to bring her sword down. Her next blow knocked Arya's sword from her hand. But his sister was not deterred. She rolled between Brienne's legs and stood to her feet again, just as Brienne brought her sword back and leveled it with her neck.
"That's you dead," Brienne said.
Arya smirked. "And you."
Only now did Robb notice she had pulled a knife and slipped it through the gap in the armor at Brienne's armpit.
"Well played," Brienne said. "But I still would have taken off half your head."
"And I would have punctured your lung. Better to die taking your enemy with you than not at all," Arya straightened. "You're good. Better than good. I suspect you were still taking it easy on me."
"I was wary of using my full strength yes," Brienne said. "Though even if I did, you were doing a sound job at dodging. I'm not used to fighting such a small opponent."
Arya smiled. "We will have to spar again then."
"Told you that you'd enjoy it," Jaime said.
Arya made a face at him. Brienne placed the sparring sword on the table, then turned to notice Robb. "Lord Stark."
Immediately, Arya tensed and looked to Robb, as if wondering how long he had been watching. "Robb. I...How are you this morning?"
"Well enough," Robb smiled. "Can I speak with you for a moment? It's about that letter you brought me."
"Right." Arya crossed to retrieve her two real swords. The needle like blade from Jon, and the other one...Where had she gotten that from, he wondered. "Lead the way."
Once Arya had strapped her blades to her belt, they crossed up onto the battlements of Winterfell, away from any prying ears. In the distance, Robb thought he saw Greywind and Summer passing through the trees. They often stayed outside the castle walls where they could run free. Direwolves didn't like to be caged, after all.
"Did you...read the letter that Lord Tywin asked you to deliver?" Robb asked when he was sure they were alone.
"No," Arya said. "He said it was for your eyes only."
Robb's mouth twitched. His sister had retained some honesty even after all of her time in King's Landing. "I hoped he might have mentioned something about it to you." He handed the letter to her. "Here."
Arya read over the letter quickly, her brow furrowed. Then she gave it back to him. "No. I don't know anything about this. But then again, I have not spoken with Lord Tywin in nearly a year."
Robb tilted his head to the side. "Did you speak with him often before that?"
Arya picked at the finger of her gloves. "I wouldn't say...often."
"More often than most wards talk to their captors?" Robb asked.
Arya exhaled. "Yes. That's likely."
A particularly icy gust of wind swept over them and they both shivered. Robb glanced down at her second sword again. "That's a fine new blade you're carrying. Did you name it?"
Arya smiled a bit. "Winter's Fury."
"That's a strong name," Robb said. "Where did you get it?"
She ducked her head slightly. Arya was not one to make herself smaller, but in that moment, she looked as if she wanted to vanish. "It was a gift. Well...not really a gift. More like a debt paid."
"A debt paid. By Tywin Lannister?" Robb asked. When she did not respond, he knew he was right. "What debt did he owe you?"
"I suppose he wouldn't have told you," Arya said. "He kept the details of his almost assassination rather quiet. He does hate showing weakness."
"What are you talking about?" Robb asked.
Arya looked up at him. "I saved his life. I was with him when the assassins came. I killed them and got him to the maester before the poison could take him."
Robb blinked, unsure for a long moment what to say.
"It was for you," she continued on. "I knew that if Lord Tywin died...you would never leave the city alive. But even though I didn't do it for him, he still paid the debt."
"I...I see," Robb said at last.
Arya's mouth twitched. "You find it hard to believe, don't you? That I've actually killed someone. You always thought I was playing a game when I tried to spar. But I know how to use a sword and I know how to use a knife. I don't play with either."
Robb exhaled. "It's not that, Arya. I've always known you were fierce and brave enough for ten men. And moments ago, I saw your skill with a blade. I just wish you didn't have to kill or fight."
Arya rested a hand on the hilt of her sword, running her fingers along the pommel. "I do like fighting, Robb. It's not just a necessary evil for me. I enjoy it."
"And killing?" Robb asked. "Do you enjoy killing too?"
Arya stared out at the icy landscape. Her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed a bit too hard. In the silence, Robb knew the answer before she spoke. "Sometimes. Yes."
Robb's heart clenched. How much Arya had grown up since they handed her over to Tywin Lannister. At first glance, she was still his little sister. But the longer he looked, the more he saw the little changes. In the way she held her shoulders. In her measured tone when she spoke. In the hard glint in her silver eyes.
His sister absorbed everything like a sponge. And that included bits and pieces of Tywin Lannister.
Robb looked down at the letter in his hand again, very much wanting to change the subject. "In a few days, the northern lords will be coming to court. If Roose Bolton is a traitor like Lord Tywin suggests...we might find proof of it there."
"Would you like me to watch him?" Arya asked.
"Carefully," Robb said. "If you notice him talking to particular lords, let me know. Sitting up at the table, listening to everyone, I don't have an opportunity to watch."
"You can leave it to me," Arya murmured. "I'll let you know if I see anything suspicious. I'm rather good at watching people."
"Good," Robb said. "Also...tell Jaime Lannister to make himself very scarce. I'd prefer it if he locked himself in his room. The Karstarks will be coming. He killed some of their own in the war. I don't want to deal with the fallout of that."
"You could tell him that, couldn't you?" Arya asked.
"He seems more likely to listen to you," Robb said.
Arya fell silent, looking oddly nervous again. But Robb did not have time to push her for anymore secrets. He wasn't sure he'd like the answers.
He couldn't expect Arya to be unchanged. She was a hostage. A prisoner of war to perhaps the most dangerous man in the seven kingdoms.
The fact that she was alive and strong was blessing enough.
Even in Winterfell, Jaime tried to keep up his practice. It was important to drill relentlessly with his left hand until it became second nature to him. It would never be as effortless as with his right hand, but he could still be better than most men if he just worked harder at it.
The northmen gave him distrustful looks when they saw him practicing. He wondered if they were looking at his sword. Could they sense the metal of their old lord's sword in his blade? Unlikely, but still, he was aware of it.
"Perhaps I'm angering Ned Stark's ghost," Jaime thought. Lord Stark would be awfully furious to see him with even a small piece of his sword after all.
Brienne of Tarth distrusted him like anyone else, but she wasn't particularly afraid to speak with him. In fact, she was far more direct than most people, which Jaime found refreshing.
"Why did you come north with Lady Stark?" she asked.
"My father asked me to," Jaime said simply, turning his blade a few times in his hand.
"And why did he ask you?"
"My lady, I do not have access to my father's mind. No one does," Jaime said. "I suspect he wanted someone trustworthy watching his ward on her visit home."
"So you are not here with any darker intentions?" Brienne asked.
Jaime raised an eyebrow. "If I was, do you think I would confess them here?"
Brienne's eyes narrowed.
"Truce," Jaime sighed. "I don't want to fight. Despite what you think of me, I didn't come here to start trouble."
Brienne was quiet for a moment. "Strangely enough, you seem to be telling the truth."
"Yes. Strange, isn't it?" Jaime turned away from her swiping twice in quick succession with his sword. "A Lannister telling the truth. It's quite a novelty."
She did not rise to the bait of his sarcasm. "You are much changed since our last meeting."
"I think it's the missing hand."
"No," Brienne said seriously. "Not just the missing hand."
Jaime turned to face her. "Enlighten me then, my lady."
"For one thing, you've barely insulted me at all. That's different," Brienne said.
Jaime smirked. "Did you miss my insults, wench?"
"Not remotely, Kingslayer," Brienne replied without missing a beat.
Jaime sheathed his sword. "Ah, that old nickname. I expect I'll be hearing it quite often here."
"It's true, is it not?"
"Yes, yes. It's true," Jaime said tiredly.
Behind him, the gates opened. A lone rider cantered inside, dressed in all in black. It took Jaime a moment to recognize the newcomer. The winter had aged him. But it was still very clearly Ned Stark's bastard son. Jon Snow.
The bastard of Winterfell noticed Jaime almost immediately. A mix of anger and confusion crossed his face. "Lannister. What are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same of you." Jaime asked. "Not deserting the Night's Watch, are you?"
"No." Jon swung off his horse. "I'm here on behalf of the Lord Commander."
"You moved quickly up the ranks to be acting on the Lord Commander's behalf," Jaime said. "Did you kill anyone for it?"
Jon glared at him. He had his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "A few. Yes. You didn't answer my question."
"Relax, Snow. I'm just an escort."
"An escort for whom?" Jon asked.
"Jon?" a voice called from behind them. Jon's hand slipped off of his sword in an instant. Jaime barely turned before Arya rushed past him and launched herself into Jon Snow's arms. He caught her up in a tight hug. Jaime had not seen her embrace any of her other family with quite so much abandon. This was her favorite sibling, to be sure.
"Gods, Arya. I had no idea you were coming," Jon murmured when he set her down.
"I came when I heard Rickon had passed," Arya said. "And you?"
"Yes. The same reason," Jon said. "And to find recruits for the watch." He mussed her hair a bit. "It's so good to see you. I wouldn't think the Lannisters would allow you to come home."
"Hence the escort," Jaime said. "Not that she needs protecting."
Jon looked his sister up and down, as if checking her for any injuries the Lannister might have wrought. He noticed the smaller of her swords and smiled. "You kept it close."
"Always," Arya said. "It's the only thing I had of home."
"You've found a proper sword as well, I see," Jon said, nodding to the second blade on her hip.
"Needle is a proper sword as well," Arya protested. "Just smaller."
"I'm not jealous, Arya. I'm glad. I'm glad you're allowed to carry it." He glanced at Jaime. "Why is she allowed to carry it?"
Jaime shrugged. "Good behavior?"
"Yes. We'll leave it at that." Arya smiled up at Jon. Jaime had never seen her so unapologetically happy. "Does Robb know you're coming? I can take you to him."
"In a moment," Jon said. "I'd like to visit Rickon first."
"Do you want company?"
"Yes. I think I do." Jon Snow gave Jaime one last suspicious look before he followed his sister across the courtyard. Jaime gave him a little wave.
It was curious seeing Arya Stark with her family. She had said once that they didn't have much tension between them. That they all got along well enough. Jaime didn't believe it until he saw it, but she wasn't lying. Her brothers adored her. She and her sister seemed closer than ever. Of course, Arya was keeping secrets, but that seemed a normal thing. On the whole, the years of tragedy had only knit the Starks tighter together.
So this is what a normally functioning family is like, Jaime thought, raising his sword again to continue practicing.
Father should take notes.
The dark of the crypt seemed less oppressive with Jon for company. Arya had not even thought to see him on this trip. He was a man of the knight's watch, after all. This was an unexpected joy. She only wished that Rickon had not died to make it happen.
Jon absently stroked Shaggy Dog's fur as he stood in front of Rickon's grave. He was changed, just like her, from his time away from home. His eyes had seen terrible things. His blade had killed many people. But she did not want to ask about any of that. If she did then he might ask her questions, and she didn't want to lie to Jon.
"How is Ghost?" Arya asked at last.
"Well," Jon said. "He came with me and found Greywind and Summer in the trees. He remembers his siblings even after all this time."
Arya smiled softly. "They remember me too...when I came back. I worried they might not."
Jon sighed and mussed her hair. "Why not? You're still the same girl who left. Just a bit taller."
Arya smirked. "You're the same too. And not taller."
They laughed at that, even though it wasn't true. They were different. They were all different. It was stupid to pretend otherwise, but Arya couldn't help it. Jon was always the one who understood her and let her play the knight without any judgement. He gave her Needle. And with Needle she had killed her first enemy.
She wondered if he knew...if he had guessed...that she was a killer.
"Arya...are you all right? Truly?" Jon asked.
Arya shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"A million possible reasons," Jon said. "You've been a hostage away from home for years. A hostage to the Lannisters no less. When Sansa returned home, she was...well I heard she had plenty of nightmares. You've been down south longer than her."
Arya shook her head. "I imagine Sansa had worse experiences in the south than me. She was betrothed to that monster, after all. Joffrey came after me a few times but...well he's dead now."
"I heard," Jon said. "And you don't have any other tormentors?"
"If I did, would you fight them?" Arya raised an eyebrow. "I can fight for myself, I promise."
"I know. But can you blame me for wondering?" Jon asked. "Whether you can fight doesn't matter. Sometimes people back you into a corner where you can't fight."
"It's not a problem if I avoid corners," Arya said. Jon gave her a look and she smiled softly. "It's all right. I do understand what you mean. And I won't pretend that there haven't been hard moments. I just don't mind them. If our family and the Lannisters stay at peace, I can handle it."
"That's not your job, you know," Jon murmured. "To keep the peace."
Arya looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of her father's statue flickering in the lantern light. "Someone has to."
Jon settled a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "We don't have to speak of the past if you don't want. If you say you're all right, then I trust you. I'll leave it at that."
Arya nodded once. For a moment, so many stories came to her mind. Her fight with the assassins. The pain of being beaten at Joffrey's orders. Killing Joffrey. But she couldn't tell him any of it. Of all of her family...she wished that Jon would see her as the same. As his little sister.
It was stupid, but sometimes she liked to pretend nothing had changed.
It was an unexpected joy for Jon to see his little sister again. When he went to the wall, he knew he wouldn't see her often. When he heard she was taken captive by Tywin Lannister, he thought he might never see her again. To see her after all of these years, still smiling with needle at her hip...well, it was a rare bright spot.
Most of Jon's life was not particularly bright. With Mance Rayder marching closer and closer to the wall, and continued sightings of the others, the Night's Watch was dreadfully underequipped. He needed men. He needed a lot of men. More than could be provided by scouring dungeons. That was why he had come to Robb for help.
His brother had a great many cares as Lord of Winterfell. They had aged him, and yet the position suited him. He looked more like their father than ever, and he carried himself proudly. Jon had always envied Robb for how much better he was than him at everything. People, politics, fighting, girls. But he had never hated him for any of it. Robb was very hard to hate.
"The cold seems to have made you grimmer than ever," Robb said when Jon entered the great hall.
"Aye. It's much colder at the wall than here. This feels almost like spring," Jon said with a smile.
Robb smiled in return, embracing him warmly. "I'm glad you could come."
"I'm sorry I did not come sooner. I wish I could have seen Rickon before..."
Robb squeezed his shoulder. "You're a man of the Night's Watch. Your life isn't your own. Rickon would understand."
Jon nodded once. "I wish that I came only to grieve. But it's the Night's Watch that sends me here as well. Mance Rayder is close, with a hundred thousand men. And we do not have the forces to repel him for long."
"You have a rather high wall," Robb reminded him.
"It's not enough. He has giants," Jon said.
"Giants?"
"Aye. I've seen them with my own eyes. And I swear, I am not mad," Jon said. "We need more men."
"You can have your pick of the dungeons," Robb said. "As always."
"I could drain every dungeon in the north and not have enough," Jon said. "There are only a few hundred of us at Castle Black. A few hundred against tens of thousands. We can hold it for a time but not for long."
"What do you suggest then?" Robb asked. "I cannot ask decent, law abiding men to take the Black against their will."
"I don't need them to take the Black," Jon said. "Men can ride north to fight of their own free will without saying any vows. In times like these, the Lord Commander would not deny them."
Robb ran a hand over his face. "That may entice more men. They are tired from war, but no one wants wildlings running across our lands unchecked." He looked up at Jon. "You came at a good time. A few days from now, the northern lords arrive for court. I will let you speak to them then."
Jon let out a breath. "Thank you. Truly."
"Think nothing of it. Starks have guarded the wall for thousands of years," Robb said. "It is our duty."
"Our?" Jon raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a Stark."
"You are," Robb said. "If you weren't part of the Night's Watch...well I would have given you the name Stark by now. Legitimized you. You've more than earned it. But the Stark name will do you little good at the wall."
Jon felt a well of emotion rising up inside of him. How long he had wanted the name Stark. He hated the name Snow for the longest time. But Robb was right. The name didn't matter now. Jon's life was not his own. Snow was as good a name as any.
"Have you seen Arya yet?" Robb continued. "I know she would be happy to see you."
"She found me as soon as I arrived," Jon said. "Strange that Jaime Lannister is here with her."
"Keeping an eye on us, I expect," Robb said. "His father will want a full report on the loyalty of the north."
"I suppose," Jon said. "Does Arya seem well to you?"
Robb hesitated. "Well? Yes. But...different. We can't blame her for that. She's had to survive down south." He paced to the window. "I wish I could have saved her, Jon. When Tywin Lannister forced us to make peace-when he dangled her in front of me-I wished I could have killed him then and taken her back home with us."
"It would have meant more war," Jon said. "And more Stark deaths."
"Father would have hated it...me sacrificing her for peace. He always loved Arya so much." Robb shook his head. "Anything that happens to her now...however she has changed...that is on my shoulders."
"Arya would be angry at you for saying it," Jon said. "You have the north on your shoulders already. And what's done is done. You can't change the past. If Arya has changed...well, she was never going to stay our little sister forever."
"No," Robb murmured. "I wish she could have. I wish we all could have stayed as we were four years ago. It was so much better then."
It was better. Even though Jon had been a bastard and Catelyn Stark had hated him...it was all so much better when their father was alive. When Rickon was alive. When Sansa and Arya were home and safe. When Bran still had his legs.
But the past was gone and none of them had gone unchanged by the war. And Jon had a feeling there was still much more to come.