A/N: Originally, this was going to be a one-shot story, but I decided to add another chapter about some of Arya's antics due to a request by a guest review. I like this idea of a bunch of loosely related chapters about Arya and the trouble she gets into. I'll see if people like this and then decide where to go with it.

Enjoy!

Arya Stark woke up to the musical sound of silver swords clashing and birds singing. It was a beautiful summer day, as it had been for so many days in a row, despite last night. It had poured so hard last night that even Father thought it would never let up. Of course, it did eventually die off, because no storm lasts forever. When Arya peered out her window, she saw that last night's storm had left many muddy puddles in its wake. She couldn't hold back the urge to go outside instead of staying in and doing needlework with the monotonous Septa Mordane. Arya had always thought that perhaps her name should be Mundane instead of Mordane. It would fit her quite well, and it even sounds better than her real name.

Honestly, she didn't even know why she had to have a Septa. Her parents had set the lessons up just this past year, upon her seventh name day. She clearly did not want to go, and both Father and Mother knew that. Yet she was still put through such incredibly boring classes with Sansa and her friends. None of Arya's friends went to the Septa's classes (which is a part of what made them so lonely.) In fact, Arya was very certain that none of her friends even knew how to hold a needle, much less how to sew. Oh, how she longed to be out there, with her friends, clanking her sword against Mycah's and learning how to shoot properly. She had done it once, you know. Shot an arrow from a bow. Multiple times, actually. Father even applauded her when she managed to make it hit the bullseye. Too bad Mother won't allow me to be a boy instead of a girl, she thought sullenly, boys can shoot arrows as often as they want to. And they aren't forced to wear dresses that get in their way. This thought brought her back to reality, seeing as she still wasn't dressed for the day.

Tiptoeing across the cold, stoney floor to her clothing chest, Arya pulled out the first thing on top. Arya never was picky when it came to such frivolous matters. She just wanted to be quick about it. The simple orange dress with the sleeves that didn't quite reach her elbow slid on over her head and she quickly laced it up. The she-wolf wasn't quite old enough to wear corsets yet, unlike Sansa, and she hoped she never would have to. Maybe she could just live her life without one forever. That would be so wonderful. But highly unlikely, Arya thought as a sigh escaped her lips.

As soon as she finished buckling her boots onto her feet, she took off, sprinting down the long hallways, down the staircases, and out the doors of the castle. Winterfell was quite large in size, even larger than the Red Keep in Kings Landing, though that was the capital of Westeros. Arya liked how big her home was. It made a great place for exploring. But one never knew just what they would bump into. In Arya's case, she stepped out into the commonplace and ran promptly into Sansa.

"What in the world are you doing?!" Sansa nearly yelled, causing Arya to stumble back ever so slightly.

She gave her older sister a sheepish smile, hiding her hands behind her back. "On my way to Septa Munda- Mordane's lessons?" She meant for it to be more convincing, but the sentence came out more of a question than a statement. The slip up on the name went, thankfully, unnoticed.

"Really?" Sansa raised an eyebrow at her sister. She never could understand why Arya didn't behave properly. It was always a mystery to her. "And you're going willingly?" This was a pleasant surprise indeed. Almost too good to be true... Sansa couldn't believe it.

"Yes, willingly. I'm not completely terrible, you know." That wasn't exactly a lie. She could be very kind when she felt like it, or when the person was deserving of it.

Father often told her how kind her heart was, and that maybe, if she learned to tame it just a bit, she would be the kindest and nicest girl he's ever met. Arya wanted to tame her heart, she truly did. Not all the way, but just a little. She knew she was out of line sometimes and that being mean to certain sisters wasn't always the right thing to do. She wanted to please Father so badly, yet in spite of that, she didn't want to lose her spark.

That's what Jon called it. He said she had the special spark inside her that the Stark's are famous for - the same spark that Brandon the Builder had. Jon said that spark carried on through many generations and he told her that she and Robb clearly have it. She took this as a great compliment, and continued to say that Jon must have The Spark as well. He had argued her, saying for the umpteenth time that he is no Stark. That had made her angry. She hated it when Jon talked that way about himself. So what if he wasn't trueborn? He's still a Stark same as her! He's still Ned Stark's son, whether or not he's got his name.

Arya knows that Jon is better than her. He has The Spark but he has better control of it. Something in him manages to keep the control over the First Man's blood in his veins. Arya's not sure what just yet, but it's got to be strong, she figures. It can't be something weak like the Tully's from Riverrun. Mother can be strong, very strong indeed, and so can her siblings. However, it just doesn't compare to that of Father's or Jon's. Robb can easily lose his temper and Bran just isn't old enough to show any patience yet. The bastard (she hates that word) brother of hers has incredible perseverance, whether he takes pride in it or not. Arya knows that he gets jabs at his status every day, and it must hurt. She isn't sure how the crude jabs don't penetrate his skin. When Sansa jabs at Arya she feels such betrayal and pain. Jon never does. Jon's strong. It's like no one can hurt him, like it would take something very big to even make a dent.*

Arya wishes she could be like Jon.

"Mm. Well, if you're going to the Septa's lessons, you might as well walk with me. I was just heading there myself."

Arya's mind jumped back into the present as Sansa spoke. She noticed that her sister looked a mix of skepticism and hopefulness. Now she really did have to go to her lessons, because Sansa is walking with her. Honestly, she had just planned on skipping them today.

"Alright." Arya nodded, beginning to walk off towards the door she had just came out of. "Let's go then."

Sansa was still behind her, racking her brain to find an answer as to why Arya was walking in the wrong direction. "Arya? The Septa's lessons are this way."

"Oh. Of course." Arya turned herself around and walked side by side with her sister. True be told, Arya's mind was still on escaping her lessons. It was a few minutes before they reached what the young girl always thought would one day be her death place, and the walk was mostly silent. Sansa did no talking whatsoever, either dumbfounded by her sister's easy compliance or simply in a hurry to get there, and Arya only said a few hellos to some commoners she seemed to know.

When they finally reached Septa Mordane's teaching place (which felt like an eternity to both girls, for their own reasons), Sansa noticed that they were the last to arrive. They weren't late in any way, shape, or form, but they weren't early either. They were on time. Mother always told Sansa it's better to be early than on time for anything. Some Ladies, silly as it may be, take being on time as an insult. Now Arya had made her fall behind and she wasn't early. Arya always got in her way.

"Have a seat, darlings. It's time to begin our lessons." The Septa said, gesturing to two seats in the room. Sansa gratefully took the one in between Jeyne and Beth, quietly thanking the girls for saving her a seat. Arya plopped herself down in the only empty seat, sitting across from Septa Mordane, next to Beth Cassel and some older girl she didn't remember the name of.

The circle was comprised of five girls and the Septa herself. Of course, Sansa and Arya had been the students that mattered most, them being the daughters of Lord Stark and all. Then Jeyne Poole, the Stewards daughter, and her older sister Brielle Poole (that's the one that Arya couldn't remember the name of). Last was Beth Cassel, the daughter of Winterfell's Master of Arms. Arya felt they were all quite annoying and stuffy women, and she would do anything to get away from them. Okay, to be fair, Brielle and Beth weren't as bad as Sansa and Jeyne. Beth had her moments when she would follow the other two girls around like a little puppy dog, and repeat the things they say, but she never truly meant any harm. Brielle was the oldest girl that attended the lessons, and the kindest too. She would frown at her younger sister's doings and never said anything mean to Arya. However, she wasn't like Arya. She still wished to be a Lady.

Brielle's the only one in this class that would make a good Lady, Arya thought to herself as the Septa began talking. Something about finding partners and standing up. Arya didn't really know - she wasn't listening. Her eyes were lost on a scene going on outside the window. Jory Cassel (Rodrick Cassel's nephew) and Theon Greyjoy had gotten into a scrap, and it looked like Jory was winning. Robb and Jon seemed to be laughing at them and suddenly Arya felt left out of the fun.

Beth tapped on her shoulder, bringing her mind back to the room. "You're to be my partner," said Beth.

Arya quickly stood next to the older girl, a confused look growing on her face. "Partner for what?"

Beth sighed and whispered to Arya. "We're practicing dancing."

This did not appeal to the She-Wolf in the least. "Ugh. Must we?"

"You can be the man." Beth offered, her eyes watching the Septa but her soft words directed at Arya.

"Okay."

And so they danced. Sansa was partners with Jeyne (of course), and Septa Mordane was using Brielle as her example. Now, Brielle being a woman of ten and four, already knew how to dance, so that made it quite easy to show the younger girls the art. Arya thought it was quite useless and would never help her defend herself. Dancing is so very dull. It's not at all fun and exciting.

Nevertheless, she still had to dance with Beth. Poor Beth was doing her best, but with Arya as a partner... Let's just say she didn't look very skilled. Arya was doing her best too, but Beth's best and her own best are two very different things. The old gods never meant for her to be a dancer. Not this type, anyway.

Sansa and Jeyne were wonderful at it. Nearly as good as Septa Mordane and Brielle. Every time Arya tripped over her own two feet or Beth stumbled because of her the older girls would snicker and giggle to themselves. Arya didn't care. Why should she ever care about what they think? They don't know anything that truly matters anyhow. All they know is how to curtsy and dance, not fight and run and all those things that boys learn. At least I'm good at the useful things.

"Arya, straighten your posture. No slouching." The Septa ordered.

Reluctantly, Arya obeyed. Her shoulders were now back and she was standing taller, though not by much. The rest of the class went about the same, Arya making mistakes and Septa Mordane correcting them harshly. After dancing they practiced their sewing for the thousandth time, and then the painstaking session was over and they were free to go. Arya thought it was a miracle that she was even able to last that long in the same room with that insufferable woman and her equally insufferable students.

When the girls walked out, they all talked amongst themselves about stupid things, like dresses and boys. Jeyne was just saying something about Beric Dondarrian (why does she always talk about the man so fondly? Is it because of his legendary fighting skills?) when Arya saw it. It was hard to see in the mud and dirt, and if she hadn't been so bored by the conversation she probably wouldn't have found it at all. She had the most wonderful idea.

"Look!" She exclaimed, picking it up with one hand. "Look, Sansa, look!" Arya turned to face the girls, sticking the brownish-pink thing right in front of her sister's face.

Oh, how she screamed. Arya was sure anyone all the way to Dorne and back could hear it. Sansa stumbled, falling in a small pit of muddy earth. The other girls all screamed as well, but none as loud as Sansa. After all, it was so close she could've licked it had she been brave enough. Arya laughed as Brielle and Jeyne helped Sansa up, all four girls taking a long step backwards.

"What? Don't you wish to hold it? It's really very tame." Arya said, petting the smooth back of the animal.

"It's a gigantic worm!" Sansa squealed, looking so scared you'd think she had just had a knife held to her throat. "It's horrid! Get it away from me, you beast!"

Arya didn't comply. She simply held it out closer. "It's not a worm! It's a snake."

Somehow, that only made it worse.

"AHH!" Screamed all the girls in unison. They all ran off, tripping over each other to be the first inside.

Arya smirked to herself, then to her new pet. Would Mother and Father allow her to keep him? She'd always wanted a snake as a pet. They're aggressive, yet calm at times. And it scared Sansa to bits, so that automatically gives it brownie points.

Arya couldn't argue with her sister on the account of it being a giant worm. It did have a rather striking resemblance to a worm. It was all one color - the same color most worms happen to be - and it didn't have any patterns or designs on it like the other snakes she sees around the castle sometimes.

If I do get to keep you, she thought, looking at the animal in question, I think I'll name you Wormy.

A/N: *Jon is clearly not like this, I know. But Arya loves and admires him so much I thought I should write that without saying otherwise. It's from her perspective and that's just how I think she views Jon. And I couldn't resist the subtle nods to his dragon blood ;)

Reviews are always welcome!