"So, how did it go?", Sansa asked while Arya angrily hopped into the car.

"They kicked me out.", she grumbled.

"Apparently comparing Kadinsky's works to a five year old's is considered disrespectful."Arya groaned, mimicking her old art teacher's high pitched voice.

"They told me I didn't have to bother coming back."

Sansa sighed. That was the eighth class her little sister was being dismissed from since the beginning of the scholar year.

"Arya, when I told you that you should find a hobby to think about something else, I didn't mean you had to find one every week.", she admonished the seventeen year old.

"Well it's not easy as it sounds, it's not like I have a lifetime passion like you do with ballet."

"Maybe if you were a little more motivated, it would be much more pleasant for you and your teachers."

"It'd be so much easier if Syrio's fencing club hadn't closed.", Arya growled again, looking at the landscape passing out the partly open window of the car. She let the fresh wind of the end of the day toy with the strands of her freshly cut bob. The autumnal evening air was brisk, a release compared to the stifling hotness of the days, here in Los Angeles.

It had been difficult since Robb and Mum's deaths. Six months it had been since the funeral already. It was still strange to think that they were gone. A stupid car accident, on the way to uncle Edmure's wedding. Sansa and Arya had come up with the excuse of Sansa's exams and explained Mum that they could not hop on a plane and join them in London before the end of July when she told them about the ceremony on the phone. Truth was, they were not so exited about another boring family reunion with their cousins on their mother's side (crazy people, most of them, especially aunt Lysa). Little did they know back then that this would be the last time they would speak to her.

Bran and Rickon had escaped the tragedy too. Bran because the journey was too tiresome for a boy in a wheelchair, and Rickon because he had to focus on working to get in a 'satisfying' High School, like their mother used to call it. So they had both remained home with Osha and Old Nan, the governess, in their huge mansion near Manchester.

Winterfell… Sometimes Arya missed the long corridors, the feeling of the cold tiles underneath her naked feet, the landscapes coated in snow outside the huge windows. She missed her brothers, the feeling of home. It stung each time she realized she would never experience again these peaceful Sunday mornings, with air filled with the smell of Mum's freshly baked waffles, the sound of half the family cheering whilst watching their team win at Mario Kart on the Wii, on the giant TV screen in the living room. Mum would always be with Sansa, Rickon and Robb, and Dad would always be with Bran, Jon and Arya. Every Sunday went like this when she was younger. She would wake up at an indecently late hour, down a dozen of delicious waffles drowned in maple syrup, and lay on a mountain of pillows in the living room and erratically press the buttons of the Wii remote until it was time to pack her school-bag for the next day. These days looked so far now.

She had not returned since they had moved in California with Dad, three and a half years ago. He had been transferred there because of his work, the girls had wanted to follow him. Sansa because she had always dreamed about fulfilling the American dream, be where the people are, become famous and everything like in some Disney princess song, and Arya…well, Arya was not sure. Maybe she needed fresh air back then, maybe she just wanted to travel. She had always had quite the taste for adventure. But she had never felt home here, nor anywhere else than Winterfell.

She had not found the courage to go back when their father died, only a year after settling in LA. She did not have enough strength to face this enormous and impressive house once filled with so much joy, now that sorrow had taken over it. Dad had been murdered. By a psycho who crossed his path one morning when he went to work. His death had been unexpected, the three of them had just started a new life, they still had the taste of the fresh motivation in their mouths when he went away prematurely. It happened brutally, fell heavily on the dispersed family. Like every fucking thing that had ever happened in Arya's life.

The two years between his death and that awful month of June passed too quickly. They all tried to recover, each from their own corner of the world, and still to this day, they were not fully themselves.

The girls had continued to go to class in their respective American schools, as if nothing had happened, to deal with the pain, to forget about it just the time they were in class. Arya's grades had just gotten worse and worse, she would often skip.

Going to school was utterly useless in her mind. The courses were on the internet, and Gendry, a Junior in College she had met in her fencing club, would help if she asked him. Hot Pie would even come to prepare her lunch sometimes, and Lommy had come to visit several times before he left for his exchange student thing, and Sansa came back after her day was over. That was more than enough people to speak to in one day. So she started working from home, trapping herself in her little bubble.

Only recently had Sansa forced her to go back because her grades were starting to get too low. But she hated it, she hated the looks she got from these strangers, these gloomy looks that screamed of pity. Somehow everyone knew she was an orphan now. She did not need their pity. So she went to school to please her sister, because that was the only way to show her that she was fine and that she did not need to be taken care of like a child. She spent the day alone and encircled by strangers there, and came back when the boring courses were over. Sometimes she would eat with Gendry and talk with him, but none of that was very exiting either. Gendry was nice but he always complained about something.

Mum had come to visit them in their small apartment in LA shortly after the funeral, told them to come back home, but they had insisted on staying there. The life insurance was more than enough for them to survive, and Sansa had just turned twenty one and started to work as a model for some company Arya never remembered the name of and thus could not leave California without compromising her blooming career. And Arya had given as a pretext that she wanted to pursue her studies where she had started them, when really she did not want to deal with the pain each time she would look at any room in their house and be reminded that she will not cross her father in any of them.

They had assured their mother that they were fine, that she should spend more time home with her boys while they tried building a life for themselves here. So they had continued to live in that three bedroom flat, away from their childhood, but mostly away from the grief.

This was the Stark way of coping with difficult situations. Ignore the pain, pretend that everything is well. Despite their mother's advice, neither of them had sought any help from the support groups she had suggested. People with problems need help, and they had none. Or at least that was what they liked to tell themselves.

And now they were truly on their own. At least they were together, Arya thought sometimes. True, that the sisters never got along as little girls, but times had changed, and Sansa was the closest thing she had to a best friend now. Bran and Rickon were fine too, Sansa made sure to Skype them every week to keep up with what they were up to.

Bran, who was only sixteen, had started an apprenticeship in some informatics company for technology geniuses called The Ravenous Three Eyed Comp. or something like that (no one truly understood what job exactly he was doing there but he seemed happy), and little Rickon, who was not so little any more, probably taller than Arya by now, had just entered a High School called Skagos, a relatively well classed High School. Mum would have been proud.

And Jon…Jon was somewhere in Canada on a mission, probably freezing to death. He had left home shortly after turning eighteen. He had always dreamed about being in the air army. Unlike Arya, he had always known what he wanted to do with his life.

His story had always remained a family secret. Dad had adopted Jon when he was only a newborn, a couple of months before he married Mum. It had been a hard blow for the young woman back then, she almost got the wedding cancelled when she learned about the baby. Everyone was sure he was Ned Stark's son, that he had fathered him during one of his business travels. Others believed that because Ned Stark had been adopted himself, he felt dutiful of adopting an orphan too to repay the universe or some shit, and thus did so without consulting his wife priorly, and to this day, the mystery still lingered. Mum had never held the boy in her heart, but Jon had definitely been Arya's closest childhood friend. He was her confident, her partner in crime. She felt sad when she remembered that it had been an eternity since she had not seen him, or even talked to him.

Not since he left home

Seven entire years, she recalled suddenly. He was always on a mission somewhere at the edge of the world when important things happened. And she could not blame him, she just felt sad that they did not remain as close as they had wished to.

"You should try theatre class. I believe you haven't been kicked out of this one yet.", Sansa pulled her out of her reverie, eyes fixated on the road.

Arya groaned again.

"Freaking theatre? You know I hate being the centre of attention!"

"You could at least try it, I have some friends who go and-"

"Oh because your stupid friends going is supposed to convince me-"

"Listen! They say you're not forced to take part in the play as an actor, you could help writing, or take care of the lights or whatever when the others are on stage. There are many fun things you could do without being seen. And apparently there's a new teacher since last semester and he's super hot."

"I don't care about the teacher being hot."

"I know but that's definitely a plus."

For a few seconds there was only the sound of the low grumble of the car and the beats of that annoying pop music Sansa had been listening on repeat for over three months now. Arya toyed with her necklace. Jon had gifted her this necklace, for her tenth birthday, the last birthday they celebrated together before he left home, so that she would think about him even when they would be apart. It was the only memento she had of him. Not a picture, not a letter, not even a phone number, just this.

The chain was very fine, and from it dangled the first bullet he ever shot in the centre of the fake aim during his first year of training in England. He had given it to a jeweller for him to make it into something pretty, and then he had offered it to her. The artist had carved a tiny wolf's head at the tip, and the bullet was so small and thin it looked like a needle from a far. It was a gorgeous thing, discreet but meaningful. Arya loved it, she had worn it ever since he gave it to her, and it was actually the only piece of jewellery she ever wore.

"Come on Arya, it's either that or I'll drag you to a shrink if you don't find anything."

"Fine! I'll go to that stupid theatre class.", she spat out.

The room was in the basement of the building, across the street where Arya's High School was. It was an open class concept thing, meaning that not only students attended it but also adults and whoever who passed by and decided to enter.

It was dark and the air was fresh, she descended the stairs and the sound of her footsteps was hushed by the heavy carpet. She was late already.

She pushed the double door open, her eyes met with the swarming of the busy people, mostly tall and pretty girls whose giggles were super annoying. People whispered at the group tables to not disturb the rehearsal going on on the small training stage.

Romeo and Juliet

Ugh, how original

She recognized some of Sansa's friends who had come at the apartment once or twice. She hated Sansa's friends. They were all loud and mega social-media driven, and they only ever talked about two subjects: boys and make-up. She turned her head and wished they did not recognize her so she would not have to speak to them. She looked around but she did not see anything that looked like a teacher.

Apparently that new super awesome teacher is late for his own lesson

She sighed, exasperated. God, these comedians were awful. And the décor looked like a three year old had painted it.

And what is that serving as a gown for Juliet? A floor-cloth?

She crossed her arms on her chest, considered the other people around her. Some of them were sat at a table reading other Shakespeare works. They all looked like these super rich pedantic kids she always wanted to slap in the face because they always talked to her like she was some kind of ignorant savage. Another group was planning some sort of weird choreography. They all looked super concentrated like this was some difficult mathematics test but really the guy was only telling the extras where to put themselves during the representation. Others were waiting, just like her. And that annoying group in which Sansa's friends were was cackling about someone looking super hot with this red hair.

That won't do, she frowned before sighing a second time.

She turned her heels to leave and looked at her phone. 3:17 pm, she could still catch the bus. She would be so much better home with a huge cup of soda. And she could go out for a run with Nym, and then take a long bath before Sansa would come back from dance class. Yes, that sounded much more-

Hmpf!, the air escaped her lungs as she collided harshly against someone on their way in.

She froze when she looked up and her eyes got caught in bronze irises.

"A man apologizes."

"I-I'm sorry.", she mumbled after asking herself what was this weird way of speaking. She could feel the warmth of his body close to hers, and it made her feel odd but she did not want to step back.

"A girl is about to leave?", he spoke, and his deep voice made something in her vibrate. He had a strange accent, she had never heard it before. She blinked twice before her ideas went clear again.

"A g-"Why the hell does he speak like that?

"Yeah, the teacher's late."

His eyes lingered on her for a bit, and she shifted awkwardly and took her eyes away when she realized that she was staring at him.

Damn it-

Now he is hot

But not your regular kind of hot. He had an aura, a presence that filled the room instantly. He had an exotic tinge to his looks, something she could not quite place but that made everything about him sly and almost infuriatingly charming. He looked like the impersonation of an alluring riddle.

"I am the teacher.", he said before smirking. He had this kind of arrogance to him that made her want to scoff at him to see if he would get offended like all of these too self-assured guys.

She frowned a bit when she noticed the blood red, shoulder length hair. Even more odd, he had a single streak of white in it. His skin was golden and smooth, and his lower lip was plump, which provoked the woman in her when he smirked. And the mysteriousness in his sleepy hooded eyes looked almost indecently-damn it, she was staring again.

Wait, what did he say?

Oh shit

He's the teacher

You can't have a crush on that teacher like everyone else in this school Arya Stark!

Only then did she notice the light wrinkles at the corners of his almond shaped eyes, only increasing his charisma.

She was almost disappointed in how mainstream her tastes were when she had always considered herself the odd one.

"A class has been waiting, a man apologizes for that too."

"Come.", he continued, directing her towards the room with his eyes, that arrogant expression still fixated on that annoyingly attractive face.

Well, he might be good-looking but he sounds like a pretentious asshole

And why is this stupid way of speaking so… indescribable?

Arya could not figure out if she wanted to hear more of that third-person speech or if she wanted him to shut up, for each time he spoke his voice made her tremble inside.

"A man would be glad to teach another student, newcomers are quite rare."

"Well, that's no wonder if the teacher is always late.", she hoped to anger him, so she could find a reason to hate him.

But the way he looked at her now only indicated his own amusement, which made her lose that sparkle of boldness.

"A man could show you that he does not always come late, if a girl would be so gracious to come back after that.", he purred, an entertained din to his voice.

At that he turned his head towards the expectant people, and started his course.

Well I guess it's too late to leave now, she thought before finding a place at one of the tables (the one with the less people, of course.)

"Please excuse a man for the lateness, he promises it will not happen again.", he addressed to the class, whose full attention was on him only now, but his eyes quickly fixated on hers before he continued.

"Today's lesson will be about the selflessness of the comedian."

Arya did not expect to be so caught in that. She could not figure out if what he was saying truly interested her or if his looks just made up for it.

Shit

Concentration, Arya Stark

That's nothing like you

She tried to focus, but the group of annoying girls started gushing behind her.

"You ask him!" "No, you do, I've asked a question last time!"

She rolled her eyes and clenched her teeth to hold herself from saying something that would be considered mean. She decided not to get noticed more than she already had. So she plunged herself back in what he was saying, and tried to ignore the fact that she would still listen if he said total bullshit because that strange accent was like candy to her ears.

"…When a comedian walks on stage, he is no longer himself. He puts on a mask, the mask of his character. His words convey the character's thoughts, not his. But so must his eyes, the way he stands, the way he says these words, the way he executes peculiar movements- A question, yes?"

Ugh, who the hell did not understand that

"Excuse me sir, but-but-", it was one of Sansa's friends, obviously.

"You still haven't told us your name, and we'd like to know…", she giggled. Her voice was honeyed and twangy, and she sounded as fake as she looked underneath that heavy coat of make-up.

That has nothing to do with what he was saying you stupid

Arya was not usually so tense. She herself could not figure out why every single person was so unbearable today.

But the teacher chortled.

"We can actually bond that to the lesson. A man can have many names. On stage, he could be a mighty business man from the seventies called Robert, or a beggar in the middle ages named Alexander. If he would put more efforts into his costume, he could even be an Italian opera singer called Isabella, or a waitress called Sara who works to pay medicine school. A comedian has many names. He could tell you one, but how would you know it is truly his? A man was once called Adrian, and Arthur and Paul…So, does the name a teacher was given the first day of his life matter more than the others he was given throughout his existence?"

Well, I guess one could say he just snubbed you

She did not answer, she lowered her head and for some reason Arya felt triumphing.

She did wonder what his name was though. She wondered if he had a name that sounded as foreign as he looked. Something that would roll off the tongue and leave a taste almost as exotic and warm as his golden skin, and make you shiver with-damn it, why am I thinking about this? I don't care what his name is!

The class was only scarcely done when the girls behind started stirring and whimpering like some aroused hens. Arya figured she'd get out quickly before someone would end with her fist in the middle of their face. But somehow that teacher was in front of her and blocking her way before she even made it to the door. The warmth close to her again made her cheeks redden, and she had to force herself to stare at the ground to not get lost in the feeling.

"Can the students put some order in this classroom, please?", he asked the giggling girls who would not stop following him around like he was some kind of preacher of the good word.

Everyone obeyed, and Arya sighed in annoyance. She was about to complain about not being the one who caused the mess but he spoke before.

"Not you.", he purred quietly, just for her to hear.

"Come."

She hesitated, but she followed him through the double door after glancing back at the swarming in the underground room. He did not bestow her a single look as they quietly made their way up the stairs, so she took these few instants to gawk at the way his muscles moved and contracted underneath the tight-fitting cream shirt, and she cursed before forcing herself to look away when she wondered if he was as lean as she imagined.

The whole building was quite old and musty looking, there were very few windows and nothing else to light up the corridor. It looked strangely empty for a Thursday afternoon, they did not cross anyone. He stopped only when they were in the part of the construction reserved to the teacher. He held the door for her and waved a hand for her to enter the small dark room filled with lockers.

Argh, why did his stupid chivalry make her smile like a foolish little girl?! And why was she following him in that dusty old room anyway? She looked at an answer in his eyes, but they only told her to continue, and as if under some strange spell, she blindly trusted him and walked into the room. Isn't that the way all girls get killed in horror movies?

"A man apologizes, the electricity comes and goes as it wishes here.", he purred again, much closer to her ear than she thought he was, his deep voice surprising her, and he toyed with the light switch to prove his point.

He left the door partly open to let in some dim light, but that helped very little. She almost gasped when she felt him brush against her as he made his way in the small room, the heat coming from him so sizzling she unconsciously held her breath, and wild thoughts started to pop up in Arya's head. In only one swift move the door would be locked and she would be trapped in the dark room with this mysterious sexy man, completely at the mercy of each of his desires, and maybe if he asked with that strangely alluring accent she'd let him do whatever he wanted-damn it, she cut her maddened flow of thoughts. Maybe staying home alone for so long had not been that great of an idea if she started day-dreaming about savagely making out with each good looking stranger who would grant her the tiniest bit of attention.

The sound of the metal locker door squeaking pulled her out of her confusing fantasies. He picked up a sheet of rumpled paper from the locker that was probably his, and held it out to her.

"Here is the real schedule for the theatre class, if a girl is interested in coming back.", despite the darkness, she knew he was smirking, and she wondered if he ever put on another expression.

"What?"

"This lesson was an open class, but if a girl is interested in doing more than just an initiation, she must come to these classes. They will be much more advanced than what a girl has heard today-"

"Why the hell did I bother coming then?!", she boiled up.

"Why didn't you put the real schedule directly on the board?!"

"The number of students is much more restricted, and the way the course goes is very different, these classes require a certain level-", he remained calm, which made Arya wonder if it was a good thing or if she would rather start a nasty fight with him.

"And how do you know I have that level?", she asked, still frowning. She didn't like how he always spoke in riddles. Or maybe she loved it. She didn't know, but it definitely confused her.

"A man doesn't, that is why a girl is invited to come.", he slightly bowed his head at that.

"A man should know a girl hates attention, she definitely does not plan to go on stage.", she spat out dryly, as if she was defending herself from something.

Only after a few seconds did she realize that she had picked up his weird way of speaking, and that definitely felt like he had just snaked underneath her skin to fully invade her very mind, which made her loose her angry expression.

"A pity, a girl is lovely."Was that an appropriate thing to say? Damn, Arya didn't care, but the way he said that definitely made inappropriate pictures flash in her mind.

"Ah, but a man is sure a girl has many talents. Writing or directing, a lovely girl will surely find something.", he continued as if nothing happened, as if he was not putting some strange enticing spell on her with his sleepy eyes gleaming in the dark.

How the hell did he just call me?

What was about this man that was so infuriating? She could not place it but she couldn't bear the way it made her feel, like she was about to explode at any moment and he was just toying with the dynamite in her. Why was it that she so wanted to slap him but kiss him at the same time?

Wait, what the hell is he doing-

He started getting closer to her, and she did not find anything sharp to throw at him before all her thoughts blurred. He only stopped when she was pinned against the wall and his torso scented with ginger and cloves was a small inch away from her face, radiating with heat and she was strangling herself before she remembered she had to breathe. She held the sheet of paper so tight with her shaking, sweaty hands that she had to pay extra attention to not rip it. She felt tiny underneath him, and she felt her knees weaken when a cyclone of questions launched in her mind.

What was he thinking? Would he hug her? Would he kiss her? Well, she definitely wanted to kiss him but-wait what the hell?! She didn't even know his name! She held her face up and tried to make eye contact to figure the situation out, she didn't find the voice to ask or even say anything. But he didn't look at her and started toying with the electricity board above her head, and before she realized what was happening he was far from her again and the lights were back on.

Her eyes met with the most devilish grin she ever saw. She must have been quite a sight, her eyes wide and her face as red as his hair. She closed her mouth (which she did not remember opening) and could not figure out a single word, the mingled anger and confusion made her tremble before she managed to speak again.

"Hum,… thanks-Bye then.", she mumbled staring at her stupid, almost torn piece of paper before sliding out of that freaking room.

What the hell was that?!

Sansa's expectant look made her roll her eyes.

She was still shocked by whatever she had just experienced so she took a few seconds before answering.

"It was fine. I guess I'll go back a few times to see if I really like it.", she finally outed, knowing that her sister would not start the car until she would not be satisfied.

She chuckled, turned the keys and put on her designer sunglasses.

"And? How is that teacher?"

"He's an asshole.", that got out of nowhere.

"Oh, really? That's not what I've heard, what did he do? Did he force you to recite verses on stage or what?"

Arya stared at the moving road and looked for an answer. Why did she say that?

"No, he…I don't know. There's something about him that annoys me.", she truly did not know.

"You better not use that as an excuse to get fired from this class too, we're starting to run out of options-"

Figuring out a way to make meaningful sentences out of the messy words in her head was truly difficult.

"I won't, he's good as a teacher, it's just when…when he's not doing his lesson that he's annoying. And I'm not forced to listen to him when he's not lecturing."

"Oh, okay then- I bet you won't have a lot of chances to have him just for yourself anyway, from what I've heard-"

"YES, he is quite good looking and he gets the attention of all the other girls. Is that what you wanted to hear?", she spat out almost furiously.

Sansa laughed, and Arya sighed, confused when she realized how sharply she had just said that. It was very unlike her to get carried away for something so silly.

"Calm down, if you don't want to talk to him then it's a good thing, isn't it?", Sansa continued with the cheerful mood. Sometimes, Arya was really thankful for her sister's kind nature, she needed her to soften her harsh features and help her to not always boil up.

"Yeah, it is.", Arya chilled out, only half-way convinced by her answer.

She quickly kicked her way out of her snickers when she passed the door, and threw herself on the carpet of the small living room to give Nymeria her daily amount of petting and kissing, like she always did when she came back from school. Her dog was perhaps the only person she had ever been so tactile with.

"You don't greet me first?"

The voice came from behind her. She immediately ceased with all her movements (which surprised the husky) and her eyes went wide as she wondered if she had heard right.

She did not have the time to see his face, somehow the next second she was off the ground and she squeezed him as tight as she could.

"Jon…", she managed in a whisper.

She wondered why her eyes watered, she did her best to hold the tears. She would not cry. Arya never cried. Crying was just not her way of showing emotions.

What she could not help however, was the drop of expression when he settled her on the ground again and her eyes finally met with his manly features.

"Surprise!", Sansa said in a sing song from across the room, but she didn't hear.

Her eyes did not leave him. He was so different. He was not the Jon she knew. His eyes were darker, his hair was longer, he was taller and bulkier, and he had a freaking beard.

He looked nothing like the eighteen year old boy who left Winterfell so many years ago. For half a second her mind ventured to associate him with the word handsome. But Arya shook her head to regain her senses. Yes, she had definitely been lonely for too long.

"How long has it been?", he continued, smiling at her.

"Way too long.", her eyes still did not leave him. His were on hers too, obviously admiring what had changed and what had not.

"You haven't grown much.", he teased, and she punched him in the chest before hugging him again. His embrace felt warm and familiar. Arya did not usually like cuddling, but with some people she did.

"I thought I wouldn't see you until my graduation."

She detached herself from him for the second time, and something in her strongly stirred when she felt the urge to kiss him. They used to kiss when they were children. On the cheeks, on the forehead, sometimes he would even kiss her hand like a gentleman to mock her because of her unladylike behaviour. A kiss would have felt natural. A quick peck, an (almost) chaste thing, just to see if his lips were as smooth as they looked, if his three-days-beard would tickle her chin.

Hell, what is wrong with me today? My libido has been through the roof all day long

The evening was spent catching up. Jon told the girls about his travels, about his trainings, and each time he started recounting about another adventure Arya felt the blood rush through her.

"How long are you staying?", Arya asked despite the sudden fear.

She did not want to think about him leaving again. This evening had been like she had discovered a new Jon, and she was happy to realize that despite the years apart and the fact that they had both changed a lot, they did not lose their complicity and their similar sense of humour. This Jon was much more self-assured than the boy who had left Winterfell seven years ago, he was a man, a real man, and every time he laughed when he told about his friends in the military or when she explained one of the few funny adventures that had happened to her since her arrival here, Arya felt something in her jolt, as if her heart had been pleading to hear that cheerful melody for years and was finally being indulged. She felt herself blush every time she made him laugh or each time his sparkling eyes met hers, she was so red that her cheeks burned, but she pretended that that was because of the beer.

"At least a year, I'm moving in the third room of this flat and I have to fraternize with the US forces."

Arya sprung from the table and threw herself at him again. An entire year with Jon around? That was the most amazing thing she had ever heard. Her cheeks ached from how large her smile was but she could not help it. Since Sansa was quite busy with her modelling thing lately, it would be just the two of them in the apartment most of the time, just like when they were children fooling around their home when the parents weren't here.

They could have these peaceful evenings of dining off cookies and cereal in the kitchen again like they used to do during the holidays when she was in elementary school, they could go out for a jog with Nymeria and Ghost, his trained army dog, at whichever hour of the day they would like and just run on the beach like they used to do in the snow during winters in Winterfell. Or they could just lay around on the couch and watch these old movies while cuddling all day long, although that would make them look a lot like a couple, Arya realized.

"That's going to be a fun year.", Sansa smiled.

"Yeah, and this way I could help you a bit with the bills.", Jon added.

"What? No, no way! We're paying the bills with Dad's life insurance, you don't need to pay anything!"

"I do, I'm not gonna stay here without paying anything San!", he continued smiling.

"But, we've discussed about this before, all five of us are contributing for this apartment and Winterfell thanks to the insurances, you're already paying your part."

"Sansa, I didn't get anything from the insurance when Dad died.", he said, his tone suddenly formal.

"What?", the two girls hissed confused, and the cheerful taste in the air died.

Arya lowered her eyes, she felt the seriousness of the conversation brusquely weigh her shoulders down.

"I…something about the adoption papers wasn't in order, and your mother actually-well that's nothing you should worry about-"

"What the hell did Mum do?", Arya was suddenly angry again. If she had understood right, Jon had not only been despoiled his part of the life insurance, but also his whole heritage as Ned Stark's son.

"She…I don't know if I should be telling you-"

"What, you're afraid that she'll come haunt you in your sleep?", Arya threw ironically.

"Arya!", Sansa shrieked dumbfounded.

Jon gave her a look, he had not forgot how harsh she had always been.

"Don't 'Arya' me! She had no right to disinherit Jon!"

"Actually, she did…she had a paternity test made and… used that to support the fact that the adoption had not been done totally in the rules, and somehow I don't have access to anything concerning the family any more, even my name was totally erased from all the papers concerning Winterfell…"

The news was dropped like a bomb.

"We'll take care of that with the lawyers when I find some time. But still, I refuse that you pay anything, even more so if you don't have access to any of the money you had a right to.", Sansa said with an assured and bossy tone, but Jon did not want to hear any of that.

"I will pay. Look, I don't care about that inheritance, I don't need it. I've built myself, and I want to help you now that I can. There's no trying to convince me.", he answered, and his authoritarian voice made something in Arya shake.

There was silence. One second, two.

"So…you're not Dad's son?", Arya ventured with a small voice.

Silence again, he sighed and put a sad smile on.

"No, according to the lab there's no kinship.", he marked a pause, his expression was blank.

"It felt strange when I learned it, it still does. It's like that news changed everything and nothing at the same time."

But it did change everything.

After that he said the travel had tired him and wished the girls a good night, and when he gave her a kiss on the cheek, Arya felt something in her bloom. Something had shifted. She paid no attention to it, she did not want to consider it, she tried to ignore the feeling of release when she thought that they shared no blood. She knew that this kind of thoughts would lead her to nothing good. But a little voice in her head told her that she always knew, and she cut her flow of thoughts. These were dangerous waters to swim in.