Disclaimer: All rights belong to George RR Martin and any other respective owners.

The Lone Wolf
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Chapter One
Needle

Arya Stark always knew she had a pack. Arya knew that she would always have her family to fall back on. She was comforted by her entire family's existence, although each could get on her nerves sometimes.

There was her mother; Lady Catelyn Stark, née Tully. Arya knew that if she fell and got a scratch, her mother would be there to mend her wound, and wash her up, telling her not to be so rowdy. Her mother taught her all of the proper lessons, and although Arya did not care much for any of them, they would still process in the back of her mind. To this day, Arya still knew what she ought to live by; what her mother taught her: Family, Duty, Honour.

There was also Arya's sister, Sansa. Sansa, of course could not stand Arya, and vice versa. Sansa was the proper daughter; the good daughter. Sansa knew all of her lessons and all of her dances and she had the most proper manners of anyone. Arya knew she could count on her elder sister to tell her what to do and what not to do, even though Arya seldom ever listened. It was also very amusing to pick on Sansa, and that was what Arya admired best about her sister.

There was also Arya's father, Lord Eddard Stark. If she ever felt lonely, Arya could find herself in the Godswood, sitting next to her father as he took care of his great sword, Ice. Not only did he always know how to be around Arya, she felt as though at least a part of him respected that she never wanted to be a lady. For that, Arya loved her father with all her heart.

There was Arya's younger brother; Bran. If Arya felt playful or competitive, Bran would always be there to play swords with her. Bran was smart, and he held interesting conversation. Arya sometimes had trouble understanding what he was saying, or concentrating on the words he would speak to her. But Bran never told Arya how she should be, and he never told her what to do. He just played swords with her, and Arya asked for nothing more.

Arya's eldest brother was called Robb. If Arya needed taking care of, Robb would always be there. She knew he would protect her and her family, but Robb sometimes mixed up their mother's teachings, believing in Duty, Honour, Family. Though, Arya did not hold this against him, as she often forgot all three words, and went with: irrationality.

And although Rickon was still just a babe, if Arya wanted to feel superior, she would help teach Rickon how to hold a bow properly. It always gave Arya great pleasure in teaching Rickon, and showing off to him. Rickon also had a temper like her own, so Arya enjoyed that she was not the only one.

But there was always one person that Arya loved most in the world: Jon. Jon Snow, to be precise. She always felt like herself when she was with Jon. He never made her feel like she should be someone else, and Jon never made her feel inferior. But Jon was a bastard, and Arya loved him all the more for it. He was an outsider, and so was she. The only difference was that Jon did not think he had a pack, which made Arya sad. Arya had a pack, which he was always a part of. Of course, that was until 298AL, when Arya was nine.

It was a beautiful day in Winterfell. Arya was in a clearing in the woods with beads of sweat dripping down her face. She could hear the rustle of the leaves in the soft breeze, and the water streaming down the river in a constant rhythm. The sun shone strongly down on Arya as she held her stance, but the constant chill of Winterfell made it bearable. But of course, Arya was not concentrated on the winds or the sun or even the music of the river. No, she was concentrated of the big boy in front of her. He was sweating much more than her, and he looked as though he was about to collapse. They'd been at it for several hours now, but Arya was not about to give up until she won.

Mycah had improved significantly over the past few years, and was turning into somewhat of an able opponent. But Arya was also improving, and she'd never lost to Mycah. Today would not be the first time.

Arya held her stick firmly in her hand, ignoring the roughness of the bark. She held her stance as they circled around each other, neither making the first move. Arya was growing impatient. She did not like to wait like this, but she knew that it would be too risky to make a move now. Arya thought for a moment. She was much faster than Mycah. If she moved up behind him, she could stab him in the back and catch him off guard. Yes, that was what she would do. But as she was about to make her move, a mocking voice called, "Playing with sticks again?"

Both Mycah and Arya turned to face Jon. He had a grin playing on his lips as he addressed his sister and her friend. "What are you doing here?" Arya asked pointedly.

"I've come to speak with you," Arya rolled her eyes. Could he not see they were in the middle of a battle?

"We're busy, Jon." Jon chuckled a little but his expression grew serious.

"It's important," he told her. Arya turned to Mycah and told him to bugger off. Mycah dropped his stick and did so without a word. Mycah did not talk very much.

Arya turned her attention back to Jon. She sat down on the ground and waited for him to follow suite. The ground was hard, but surprisingly comfortable, and Arya knew she would be scolded for getting so dirty. Jon plopped down beside his sister a moment later and did not say anything. After only moments, Arya grew impatient. "Well, out with it then," she urged. Jon did not look at Arya as he started,

"Uncle Benjen and some of his men will be visiting in a couple days and—"

"And Mother wants me to be a proper lady," Arya interrupted, growing annoyed that he would bring up something so stupid. Arya looked away.

"No, this isn't about you," Jon snapped. Arya shut her mouth. "Now are you going to let me finish?" Jon asked, calmly. Arya nodded.

"Uncle Benjen is coming, and when he leaves to go back to the Wall, I'm going with him."

"To visit," Arya inquired. She hoped Jon would take her. She and him always spoke about going to live beyond the Wall together, where they'd fight the Others and become King and Queen beyond the Wall. It was a dream of hers. She loved the idea that she would be able to fight like a knight and conquer the North.

"No," Arya frowned. "I'm taking the Black." Jon was looking at Arya now, his grey eyes darker than usual. There was something about his seriousness that made Arya feel strange. She did not want him to leave her. She would not survive without him. Jon was part of her, and she could not stand the thought of her favourite person in the world just abandoning her. Suddenly Arya started to panic.

"No!" She cried. "You can't leave." Arya grabbed his arm, but he pulled away, angering Arya.

"I have to, Arya. I don't belong here." Jon told her, looking away again. How could Jon be so daft? Maybe he did not belong here, but neither did she.

"I don't either! Take me with you, at least." Arya begged. Jon looked down at his hands. Arya could tell he regretted what he would say next, before the words would leave his mouth.

"Ladies cannot become men of the Night's Watch." Jon told her with a clenched jaw. Arya stood up. She'd never been so angry at Jon in her life.

"I'm not a Lady." She told him, malice in her voice and tears in her eyes. She stormed off, leaving Jon disgruntled.

Days later, Arya had still not forgiven Jon. She would avoid him, and most of her siblings, spending most of her time in the Godswood, swinging her stick around, or riding her horse. When Arya was forced to attend her lessons, she would seldom do as her Septa instructed, and she did her work even carelessly than usual. Arya would be doing what hardly counted as stitching, and she would glance out the window to see her brothers shooting arrows or sparring. It would infuriate her to look over to see Sansa giggling in the corner with Jeyne.

It seemed in those few days that passed, that everyone and everything insulted and infuriated her; especially her family.

Arya was angry with Sansa for being such a proper lady. She hated how her sister gave polite smiles to the passing folk. She hated how Sansa could curtsy without falling on her bum or ripping the hem of her dress. Arya hated how her sister ate in small bites and steady hands. Arya hated how she was supposed to be like Sansa. She hated how she was supposed to know all the right songs and all the proper titles. Arya did not want to be like her sister, she did not want to be the giggling girl in the corner. Arya did not want to be a Lady. Sansa and Catelyn and father and her brothers would tell Arya that one day she would marry some lord and be lady of some castle. They would tell her this in an attempt to comfort Arya, but Arya just wanted to spit in their faces and stomp on their feet. Arya did not want to be some Lady to be married to some Lord. Arya would never. She could never.

Arya loved her father. He was an honourable man with good intentions and grace. He was an excellent Lord, a likeable man and a great father. He was also a strong fighter at war. Arya had always looked up to her father, and she knew she could tell him her greatest desires and he would walk to the edge of the world to assure she got it. So Arya told him as she sat with him in the Godswood, feeling comforted by him presence and the presence of the Old Gods, "I want to be a knight," Ned laughed and with a squeeze of the shoulder he told her that she would be a great ruler, next to her lord husband. Arya felt herself loving him just a bit less.

Arya did also love her mother, but in a different way. She loved her mother for her beauty and her grace, but Arya could only be infuriated with the way Catelyn loved her. Catelyn would brush her hair and scold her for the knots and the dirt that were tangled in it. Catelyn would give her daughter the finest of gowns, but yell at her when she came home with tears in the fabric. Catelyn would constantly tell Arya how she needs to be a proper lady. She would tell her daughter she wished she could be more like Sansa. It made Arya want to scream at her mother and tell her, "No!" Arya wanted to yell to her mother that maybe it would be easier for her mother, maybe it would be easier for her father, but it would never be easy for Arya. It would never be fair to Arya.

Most of all, Arya was angry with Jon. Jon was supposed to understand her anger. He was supposed to understand how Arya felt when the people gave her looks of disapproval. Jon was supposed to understand how it felt that she was constantly blamed for not being born proper. Jon was supposed to have thoughts constantly run through his mind that there was something wrong with the way he was because he was a Snow, not a Stark, just like Arya was a Wolf, not a lady. Jon was supposed to be the only one who felt the weight of trying to become someone else in a world, where they hated you no matter what. Jon was supposed to be the runt of the litter, just like Arya was the dark clouds in the blue sky. It infuriated Arya that Jon did understand all these things that Arya felt, but he did not understand that she felt them too.

When Arya found herself standing next to Sansa and Bran, she only felt angry. Horses of grey and black coats trotted up to the line the Starks made, and Arya could only resent the men whom sat on the horses. They were the men who would take Jon away.

The man that rode in front dismounted his horse. He resembled the horse he rode on, with a long face and sharp features. Benjen Stark was a skinny man with eyes an unfamiliar blue. He wore all black, and he nearly blended in with the colour of his horse's coat. A cold wind blew as he stepped forward. Arya's lord father hugged his brother in greeting. Benjen greeted his brother's family, one by one. Arya had to look away when he got to Jon. He is leaving me for our Uncle, Arya thought in pure resentment. But Arya wondered just for a brief moment, wouldn't she do the same?

At the feast, Arya sat next to Bran and Rickon. It was a small feast with only the men that had come to visit, the Starks and a few others. A band played in the background, playing smooth songs that sometimes father would hum to.

Food was brought to the table in the most elegant servings, and wine was served by some pretty ladies a couple years Arya's senior. It was a pleasant dinner, and Ned had even insisted that Jon feast with them, much to Catelyn's distaste. The conversation ran strong, and Arya found herself laughing despite trying her hardest to brood. All the men had smiles on their faces, and when Jon said something, they all laughed. Though, Catelyn decided it was time to speak up. Arya did not even know what Jon had said.

"Jon Snow, you shall not say such crude things!" She shouted. The table went silent, and Jon flushed. Arya did not know exactly what Jon had said, nor could she have understood it, but something told her that what he said was not as crude as Catelyn apparently believed it to be. No one said anything as Catelyn glared. She went on to lecture her husband's son, in a very mean way. Arya frowned. She was sure Catelyn would have laughed had anyone else said what Jon had said.

Arya was not going to say anything when she heard her mother say,

"You are a disgrace to the Stark name, and I regret that blood runs through your veins. You should never have been born," But before Catelyn could continue, Arya decided it was time she came in.

"Stop it!" She yelled at her mother. "Jon did nothing wrong! And he is no more a disgrace than I am!" Catelyn looked appalled, but she managed to say to her daughter,

"You will not speak to me with such manner. You—"

"I will speak to you the way you deserve to be spoken to. Jon has done nothing wrong, and if you are so fed up with his existence, then why don't you look at the man you married?" Arya took in a breath. She did not give a rat's ass at the looks the people around the table were giving her. Arya was angry, and she was going to do something about it. Pleasing everyone was a lady's job. Arya was no lady. She stood up, nearly knocking her plate to the ground. "Father is the one you should blame. It is him that decided it would be a great idea to bed another woman, and take home her child. If anyone is the disgrace it is you. And the man you decided to marry." Everyone stood still as Arya finished. No one said a word until she moved away from the table. She started to run as her name was called; by whom, she did not know.

She found herself sitting against the hard trunk of a Weirwood tree, with tears spilling from her eyes. Arya wiped them away with haste, frustrated because she did not understand why she was sad. She thought she was angry, but the tears told her otherwise, and she did not understand. Arya pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face from the sadness of the world.

Arya bit the inside of her lip, heaving with the sudden urge to wail and run into her father's arms. She wanted to curl up at his side and listen to the sweet sound of the sharpening of the metal. But her father was not with her, and the only comfort Arya could find was in the rustling of the trees and the whistling of the winds. She concentrated on the music the Gods were giving her, trying to follow the constant movement of the wind.

She pretended she was a leaf, blowing with the wind, not knowing when or where the wind would disappear and let her fall to the ground. She pretended that she was being guided by the harsh steadiness of the air. She felt lighter and heavier all at the same time. She liked the uncertainty the wind came with and she found comfort in the solitude of being a leaf, freed from the branches of a tree.

For a moment, Arya turned into the leaf, until she turned into the wind.

"Arya," Breaking her dream, Arya looked up from the seclusion of her arms. The cold slapped her in her wet face, sending a chill down her body. Jon stood in front of her with an unreadable expression. Arya wiped away another tear, feeling embarrassed.

Jon took another step toward his little sister and knelt before her. There was a hesitation in the air, but Arya ignored it. Before she could think, Arya crashed into Jon and wrapped her skinny arms around him. Jon embraced her and they stayed like that for what felt like a very long time. Arya knew she would miss Jon, more than anyone. He was her best friend and Arya truly loved him. Jon was her favourite, and that, everyone knew. So Arya clung onto Jon because it was a reality that in a few short days, Jon would be on the road to greet his new family; his new pack. Arya wondered if she was ever part of his pack, because he was part of hers, and she could never leave her pack. That is why she held onto Jon, in hoped that maybe he would not leave. Her embrace only loosened when Jon whispered in Arya's ear, "I've got something for you,"

Arya let go of her brother, wiping away another tear. "A present?" There was a hint of a smile on Jon's face as he took something from his belt. Jon held it out to Arya, it was a sheathed sword. It was skinny in comparison to the swords Robb and Jon were given. Jon placed it in Arya's hands and she looked at it in awe. It felt light in her hands, and she stood up, unsheathing it. The blade shone like the sun, in the light of the moon. She was the most beautiful sword Arya had ever seen. She loved it, just as she loved Jon.

"A sword," she said, exasperated. Still on the ground, Jon snickered. "It's skinny,"

"So are you," Jon said, standing up. "But it's not a toy. It's a real sword. I had it made special." Jon told Arya proudly.

"I love it," Arya said, looking up at Jon. Her heart began to lift again, and the wind in her body began to rise, lifting her heart, and moving with uncertainty.

"It needs a name, you know." Arya's brow furrowed in thought. What should she call her?

A coy smile reached Arya's lips as she looked back at Jon, feeling truly happy; feeling proud. "Needle."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please tell me what you think! Gendry will not be introduced until a few chapters in; just thought you should know :) And there will be a couple OCs, but I will also be trying my hardest to make use of all the characters GRRM has created! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if you have any suggestions, I'll try and work them into the plot.