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"My lady, your lord father wishes to speak with you in his solar."

Arya turned away from the window. She smiled at the blonde handmaiden, Sara, she had chosen a few years ago. Arya had found her in the woods, running from her husband. Arya admired that bravery and took her in. She had been a loyal servant and friend, ever since.

"Thank you, Sara." The woman nods and leaves Arya alone once more. She looked back out the window, watching Bran and Rickon spar. She winced each time one of them made a mistake. Idiots, she thought. She left the window and started across the castle to her father's solar.

The door was already opened when she arrived.

Arya stood in the doorway, smiling at the sight of her father. He was hunched over his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration."You asked for me." She made her presence known.

"Yes, come here, sweet girl." He looked up from a set of papers and smiled. Arya entered the room, closing the door behind her. "You already know the entire royal family is making its way up here as we speak. The king has two sons. Your mother, of course, wishes for you to wed one of them."

"Of course she does." Arya did not like the idea of marriage, in fact she opposed it. She did not want to be a lady, she wanted to be a warrior, an explorer. She wanted more. However, when she turned fourteen and bled for the first time, she began to put up less of a fight. She could run away or put up fit after fit, but what good would it do? As long as she could continue her training, she did not care what else was forced on her. She had told her father to wait, as long as he could before marrying her off. She had told her mother that she would compromise where she could when it came to her lessons. She decided she would try to do both. Three years later, at seventeen, it seemed the day she dreaded had come. It was worse than she thought, the princes of Westeros meant that she would be Queen. The thought terrified her. All of the responsibility and eyes that would be on her, made her want to run beyond the wall. Arya sighed as she sat across from her father. She reached over to grab some of the account papers he had yet to get to.

"You've always known this day would come." Her father said, handing her a quill.

"Yes, I have." She replied. "Will I have a choice, at least?"

Her father nods."I'll do my best."

Arya purses her lips.

Lord Stark sat back in his chair with his hand poised near his mouth. Arya could feel him studying her. "Talk to me child."

"I'm just tired." Arya sighs. She looked over the numbers on the pages, making corrections where it was needed. She was always good with numbers."Resigned to my fate, I suppose."

Her father chuckled. "You're mother will be glad to hear that."

"Don't worry," She smiled. "I haven't given up entirely on running away."

"Good to know."

Arya stayed in her father's solar for a few hours. They looked through the papers and scrolls that littered his desk. It was a ritual the two had every week since she turned fourteen. She was the best with numbers in the family and she was creative. She could solve problems, quickly.. Her mother said it was the mark of true lady. Arya rolled her eyes at that. Her mother was convinced that her unruly daughter was becoming the lady that she and Sansa were. But it was not the tasks that Arya enjoyed, it was spending time with her father. Her father, who had a naturally calming presence, would listen to her and indulge her in her fantasies of freedom. He allowed her to go hunting, to spar in the yard, he watched her shoot arrows from the battlements, and even acquired a Bravosi swordsman named Syrio to train her in a fighting style that would suit her. But with all that, it was this time spent in Lord Stark's solar, looking over accounts and correspondence that Arya felt closest to her father. He was a man of little words and with his youngest daughter he was always direct and honest. Arya sometimes thought that if she had been born a man, her father would have named her heir to Winterfell. Not that she wanted it and Robb would make a good lord.

When finally left the lord's solar, she was cornered by her mother.

"Oh Arya, has your father talked with you, yet?"

Arya rolled her eyes."Yes, mother."

"Good, then you know the King comes with the intention to betroth you to one of his sons."

"Yes." Arya picked up her pace to walk ahead of her mother.

"Arya," her mother pulled her back and placed her hands on her shoulder. "I know this was never your dream. But you could be surprised with how things turn out. You could fall in love or at the very least you'll be Queen. You would be in a position to do good for your people, make your own rules."

Arya was taken aback by her mother's earnest expression. She had only ever shown frustration when it came to Arya's lack of enthusiasm for marriage and lady like pursuits.

"Family, duty, honor."She recited her mother's words, not knowing how else to respond to her mother's tenderness.

It was enough as her mother raised her hand to caress her face. "Winter is coming. Gods help King's Landing if it does."

Arya gave her lady mother a true smile.

Gendry sighed as he guided his horse up another hill. He looked behind him to see his younger brother Tommen hanging out the window, drooping on the side of the carriage. The month long ride North, had taken a toll on all of them it seemed.

"The air is so dry up here." Joffrey complained.

Gendry rolled his eyes. "You prefer it to smell like shit, like back home."

"It doesn't have to smell, just have some moisture. And this bloody wind keeps slapping me in the face."

"Praise the wind," Gendry muttered to himself. His younger brother had been getting on his nerves the whole way up, especially when he had to go in and drag him out of brothels so that they could continue their journey. Even their father wasn't as bad as he was.

"You know, I pity you brother." Joffrey took a sip from a flagon he had strapped to his belt. "We have to come up here to marry you off to some cold Northern shrew."

Gendry rolled his eyes. "Since that's the case, i'll ask you not to speak of my future wife in such a manner."

"Aw, how chivalrous." Joffrey mocked.

"Gendry!"

Their father's voice boomed from a few yards ahead. Gendry dug his heel into his horse to spur it on. He lined his horse into step with his father's.

"Yes, your grace."

"Hold on, stop right here."

Father and son stopped their horses on top of another hill. There nestled at the end of a stretch of rolling hills covered in light snow, sat a grand stone castle that seemed endless.

"There it is, Winterfell."

Gendry took in the fierce structure. The towers were rounded off, there were no sharp edges like at the Red Keep. The stone walls were simple, no intricate architecture. It was sturdy, imposing, and impressive.

"People are different here, lad. Don't expect cheering and warm welcomes." His father warns him. "They may seems harsh, stoic, but they are good people underneath. They're an honorable lot, loyal. The Starks more than any of them."

"I look forward to meeting them," Gendry said, honestly. He, like the rest of his generation, had grown up on stories of his father and Eddard Stark fighting alongside each other, brothers in arms.

"Now, the girl Arya, I don't know much about her. Ned says she is like her aunt, which means pretty words will do nothing to win her. She will be a woman of action and she will judge you on your treatment of others."

Gendry, who was used to his father's boisterous drunk state, was surprised by his somber tone.

"I've heard the common folk in these villages talk, they call her a she-wolf. You need that boy. She-wolves are strong and fierce. They're loyal. They have good instincts. If what I'm hearing about the Targaryens across the sea you'll need someone strong. You'll need a she-wolf to stand by you as queen."

A realization came upon Gendry as he listened to his father's words. "That's why you turned down, everyone else."

"I can't trust those in the south. They're all after something. Northerners don't care for politics."

They sat upon their horses for a moment more, staring down at Winterfell.

"Well, then let's get to it." His father clapped him on the shoulder before urging his horse forwards.

Gendry stayed in his spot a while longer. His eyes stayed on the castle before him. He watched as smoke was released from chimneys and could barely make out signs of the inhabitants starting their days.

The rest of the caravan was beginning to pass him up. He thought of his father's words and held a sense of anticipation in his stomach.

The next phase of his life would begin here. He only hoped he was ready for it.