"…and then I cut open her mattress and filled it with sheep shit," the young girl seated before me finished with a giggle.
"Arya Stark, your mother would have us both hanged if she heard the way I let you speak," I said, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
The eleven year-old turned in her seat, halting my hair-combing, showing me her ear-to-ear grin. Her big gray eyes had a mischievous glint to them. The young tomboy had a playful spirit. This was one of the many reasons I loved her as if she were my sister.
"Go on, continue to tell me how you love to torment your poor sister," I said, as if I didn't already know everything the girl had done. I flicked my wrist and Arya turned back around.
"It's not like she doesn't deserve it," Arya mumbled. "Sansa's nose is so high in the air it's a wonder she doesn't have nosebleeds all the time."
I pursed my lips. Arya's older sister was not my favorite of the Stark children. The auburn-haired thirteen year-old acted like a spoiled brat sometimes, making it very hard to sympathize with her when hearing tell of Arya's pranks.
"She thinks life is a song and that she's going to be saved from a dragon by a knight in shining armor," Arya continued.
"Too bad for her—the last dragons died out long ago," I murmured, setting my comb down on the girl's mattress beside me. I started to braid a strand of her dark brown hair.
"You should tell her if she ever puts her stupid needles down," Arya spat.
"Those stupid needles come in handy, little lady," I reminded her. "Septa Mordane says you're slacking in her lessons. Sansa's been making her own dresses, but you're too busy day-dreaming about swords and archery."
"Because her lessons are boring," Arya whipped her head around and furrowed her brow at me.
I couldn't help the grin on my face. I was about as lowborn as lowborn was so I never had to attend lessons on how to be a proper lady. When I first came to Winterfell I was taught a few things, but not nearly as much as the young ladies were. I could only imagine I would take to all of those lessons like the girl sitting between the roaring fire and me.
"Turn back around, little one," I said. I began to braid another strand of her hair once she turned.
"Fallon, tell me again about your life in the south," she said.
I gulped, trying to remember what abridged version of my childhood I had told her before. "I lived in the south until shortly before Robert Baratheon rebelled against the Mad King."
"Did you ever see him? The Mad King?" Arya asked over her shoulder.
"No, I can't say I did."
"But you lived in King's Landing."
"Aye. In a charming little slum called Flea Bottom. The Mad King rarely left the Red Keep, fearing assassins at every turn. I doubt he'd venture into our district.
"You have such beautiful hair, Arya, I can't wait until it grows longer," I added, running my hands through the loose hair that hung past her shoulders.
"What did your parents do?" Arya refused to stray away from the topic at hand.
"They ran a tavern. My mother occasionally sang and played the lute. She started teaching me on my fifth nameday. She died three months after."
"Were you sad?"
"Terribly so," I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "She was a lovely woman, given her circumstances."
"And what about your father?" Arya asked.
"I imagine there was a time when he had more redeeming qualities," I sighed, tying up her hair at the crown of her head with a gray ribbon. "He was not-so lovely after she died."
"How so?"
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. "I'd best fetch you some hot water for your bath, little lady."
"Wait," Arya whipped fully around in her seat before I could even take a step away. "At least remind me how you came to Winterfell."
"I ran away and booked passage with a band of traveling actors," I told her, smoothing a flyaway hair down on her head.
"Did you act with them?" she asked.
"Until we arrived here and they sold me to your grandparents, who took me on as a servant. But they were very kind to me. Kinder than most in the nobility would be to such a lowborn girl. They taught me to read, taught me to say 'my lady' like the other highborns instead of 'milady', and they even had a lute made especially for me. Your Aunt Lyanna used to have me play for her, before she was taken away. I don't have many memories of her, but she was as kind as she was beautiful. You look just like her."
Arya wrinkled her nose, taking my compliment as an insult. Unlike most of her female peers, she could not have cared less about beauty.
"Now, sweet girl, let me prepare your bath."
As I walked out of Arya's room, I felt a knot in my throat. I wasn't much of a practicing woman, but I prayed to the Seven that the girl never encountered a man as vicious and depraved as my father.
We'll see how this goes. Can't say updates will be consistent, but I'll try my darndest. Fair warning-I haven't read the books (yet), but I'm aware of some of the stuff in them, thanks to the Wiki of Ice and Fire, SO this will be based on the show with some of my own shit.
I don't own anything except for my own OC's. Many thanks to GRRM and D&D for their amazing work.