Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
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She had fought tooth and nail to escape the prison she had put herself in. She thought she could do it, that she could become like them, that she could become no one. But the North running in her veins wouldn't let her forget who she was, is, everything about her father and mother would swirl in her mind time and time again.
Robb would appear to her with the amused smiles and the kind eyes he would give her when their mother was berating her. She would remember her sweet sister Sansa, the way she would remain the perfect lady until rolling her eyes at something Arya had done and the only one out of all her siblings that shares memories of Kings Landing. Anytime she was feeling competitive she would remember of Bran, the way they always wanted to out shine the other. There were times she would start to imagine how baby Rickon would look like now, wondering if the wolf blood would drive him insane like it did her.
Jon.
Her favorite brother, the only one who had always truly understood her, never took her for granted, always believed that she could do anything she put her mind to. It was with the sword he had given her that she fought herself out of Braavos, it was remembering him that she entered a ship without anyone noticing. It was with the memory of Winterfell, of their happy family living there that she made her way towards the North. It was with the wish of avenging every Stark death that she lies on the snow, bruised, hurt and tired.
She knows she must gather herself, get on her feet, but her body doesn't answer to her commands. Arya almost chuckles at her predicament, the North may not have left her, but she had left it and now it treated her like an outsider. She wants to recite the names of the people she wanted to cause the same pain they had given her. But instead the names that fall from her lips are the ones that own her heart, body and soul.
"Father, Mother, Robb, Sansa" tears leak from her eyes to start freezing in her cheeks from the cold, but her numbing body almost doesn't feel it "Bran, Rickon" her heart clenches knowing which name would follow, the one person she needed to see one last time, knowing that he would forgive every crime she committed, every dark corner of her mind.
"Jon" she whispers his name reverently, pain settling in her bones, but not because she is close to the God of Death, but because she will not see him, will not be able to ask him to help her avenge their family, to take back what is theirs by right.
That thought stirs her, makes her roll on the snow, her grip tightening on Needle, she tries to get up and falls. With a growl she is able to put herself on her feet, but every two steps she takes she falls down, the snow making it harder for her to get up, for her to find the living family she knows is not far from her.
It is as if she can feel their presence on the northern wind, as if the North as harsh as it is being wants her to win and be reunited with her family.
"I have come too far" she says to herself, wanting so badly for her body to answer accordingly to her mind. Wanting it to fight back the wind and cold as her mind has been doing.
She is falling again, an angry yell ripping from her throat, but she never feels the cold of the snow slipping through her clothes again. She feels warmth seeping into her skin. So with the hand that is not clutching Needle she grips what is underneath her. Pelt.
Her grey eyes open to find white as snow pelt, her heart starts to hammer on her ribcage, head lifting slightly to look at the head of the animal. Two red eyes look at her and that color calms her because it means home, familiarity, Jon.
"Ghost" she whispers and those red eyes blink at her, his snout nudges at her and she moves just as he lowers, somehow having enough strength to climb onto his back.
His pelt warms her, but still the treacherous sleep tries to beckon her. Ghost is running beneath her and she can almost feel his anxiousness, something that she believes doesn't register on his exterior. She closes one hand on Needle and the other further into his pelt, feeling comfort and secure for the first time since… how many years had it been?
Arya lets sleep conquer her, finally closing her eyes, glad that at least in some way she found her way back home.
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A/N: Hi! This was a small fanfic I had laying around and I thought it was time to post it. To be honest I don't know if I will continue this or in what direction it was going, I just had this image of Arya battling to return North as if she is regaining her place in her family's lands, so for now I will put it as complete and if the inspiration strikes I will tackle this again. For the time being I have a multi-chapter of Robb/OC it is called "Winter Sun", if you want check it out!
Thank you to anyone who reads it, reviews, follows or puts on your favorite list!