Letters

"I am the harvest of man's stupidity. I am the fruit of the holocaust. I prayed like you to survive, but look at me now. It is over for us who are dead, but you must struggle, and will carry the memories all your life. People back home will wonder why you can't forget."

-Eugene B. Sledge, With the Old Breed

Letters are delivered to anticipating families everyday and are either received with a sigh of relief or sorrowful cries; No parent wants to bury their child, or see no spark of happiness in their eyes. They would think about the little boy they raised all their life, who exceeded milestones, was now lost in oblivion. Even civilians who never fought in a war were surrounded by death; the hard cold reality of having a loved one easily ripped out of the world of the living had become common. Before the war, women and men used to flinch at the sound of wailing humans, but slowly it had turned into white noise.

It was October 3rd 1943, when the Stark's had gotten their first letter. Arya's eyes were closed as she took in the rustling leaves, the eerie silence of the forest, and the cold gentle breeze; she wondered if Jon could feel the same wind against his skin too. She tightened Jon's favourite beige jacket around herself, relishing the warmth she received. Off in the distance she could hear the faint sound of Bran's laughter and Rickon's hooting, which made her miss her other brothers even more. Jon and Robb, Arya thought. But also her father. Come home to me... Of course she missed Sansa too (not that she would ever admit it), but Arya knew her life wasn't in peril like theirs would be soon.

Arya had made a routine of coming out to the forest where her and Jon used to play, hoping one day she'd see him standing by their old tree fort. Arya knew she would run full speed and hug him tightly, and he would muss her hair with a goofy grin spread across his face. She had daydreamed about that moment ever since he left. She always pictured meeting Robb out on the docks, with the sun shining down and making his auburn hair look fiery red. Arya missed his laugh and their Saturday morning fishing. Now, when she reunited with her father, Arya never seemed to picture it in Alabama, but back in Canada where they grew up. She missed the cold chilly winters and the long nights sitting by the fire listening to stories Ned told them about the military boys. Jon and Robb always muttered about how they heard these tales a million times already, but they never seemed to leave. and Bran would lean over and whisper with confidence that he would join the army and fight like the boys their father talked about. But that was before Bran's accident, that left him paralyzed from the waist down. Before their father had left Jon, Sansa, and Robb had left them. Before Arya's friends had died. Before Bran's depression. Before, before before...

A snap of a twig brought Arya back from her thoughts. The intruder was sloppy rather than stealthy, which meant that they meant no harm. She opened her eyes and propped herself back on her elbows and was quite taken aback to see Catelyn Stark. Arya inspected her mother, and instead of her stern but caring look she always wore, it was replaced with something... different. Her posture was slumped and there was sadness in her river blue eyes. She's trying to be strong, Arya thought. But why? Catelyn moved to sit down beside her daughter not meeting Arya's eyes.

"Arya," she said, her voiced strained.

Catelyn slid the note out of her pocket and solemnly handed it to Arya.

Dear Mrs. Stark,

I know by now the War Department has informed you of the death of your husband, Eddard Stark, who was killed in the Pacific Theatre on the 22nd of September. Losing him shocked us all; he was an honourable man and was very loved by his soldiers. Lieutenant Colonel Stark was one of the finest commanders we had ever seen. Lieutenant Colonel Stark was caught and beheaded by our enemy, along with Lieutenant Benjen Stark. May we, as an organization, express our sincere sympathy to you and your family. His sacrifice had not been in vain, for he shall be remembered forever. If we can help in any way, at any time, we shall count it a privilege.

Most Sincerely, Colonel Jon Arryn

Arya knew what those letters had looked like before she read her fathers. she was there when the butcher boy's father had received his son's notice. She remembered how he called out Mycah's name in mourn, while his wife broke down in sobs. Later, family friends letter had come, like Oberyn's, Willas', Matthew's, and Will's... All boys that Sansa and Arya knew and grew up with. Arya could easily count more casualties than the living. Now, her own father and uncle had been ripped away from her, but who was next? Jon? Robb? Edric? It wouldn't end there, everyone she cared about would leave and go where she couldn't follow.

Arya felt lost and betrayed, he was supposed to come back. He promised her, promised her, he promised her. The day Ned left, he had hugged her tight and muttered in her ear, "I'll be back in no time when the war is done in a couple of years, and then we could visit Canada again. You'd Like that wouldn't you?" Now Arya would never get to see his face or hear his gentle voice talk to Rickon. She would never hunt with him again or look back to see his proud face every time she won a match against a cocky boy. Most of all, Arya would terribly miss their conversations together and how he would muss up her hair like Jon used to do. Each night after that day, Arya would hope that Ned would quietly tip toe into her room, kiss her forehead, and tell her everything was alright.

"How's Bran taking it?" Arya asked for her younger brother.

"He was worried about you," Catelyn sighed.

"You and Bran have always been close,"

Yes, Arya thought.

Just like her and Jon. Would she have to read a letter about Jon's disappearance? Or maybe even Robb's death? At least she knew that Sansa, Bran, and Rickon would survive. She needed some good news to fall back on. Arya and Catelyn talked little, but instead, they sat there on the leaf covered ground together. It was such a beautiful day for a tragic death.

Later that day, Arya was swinging her legs over the side of a wooden bridge, her thoughts elsewhere as Edric rambled on about girls and war. There was a cool breeze that felt nice against her skin and made her wonder if Jon could feel the same wind too. Much to her mother's dismay, Arya wore Robb's plaid flannelette shirt and Jon's old jeans. Edric used to lecture her on how girls weren't supposed to dress that way, but after many attempts to persuade her to wear a skirt, he sighed in defeat. Now he accepted Arya for who she was; a girl who hated girls clothing. Arya didn't loathe that she was a female, she was just against the restrictions that came hand in hand with being a "woman". A pompous idea exploded in Arya's mind. At age 16 (almost 17), she was never like Sansa who had everything a woman should have; Arya was flat chested with very little curves. In most cases, she could pass as a boy... But for how long? Could she pretend for a couple of months? Or years? Arya could enlist with Edric, under Bran's name... Or maybe even Arry. Yes, Arry Snow. A bastard like her cousin Jon. Of course everything was easier said than done, but Arya decided she'd talk to Bran later that evening.

Dinner was quiet that night, as the remaining Starks gathered around the table. Arya wheeled Bran to his spot across from her seat. She had changed into a nice light blue blouse with a flowery skirt, to abide with her mother's wishes. Ned and Benjen's death smothered the content mood that the Stark's tried to portray. Rickon was at that age, where the concept of death wouldnt effect most children his age, but he was wise compared to most. He understood that's his father got chopped apart by a stranger he's never met, and he understood that he would never see Ned again. Arya felt crying was weak, and swore an oath to mask her expression for her family. She needed to stay strong for her brothers, but especially her mum. Arya jerked her hand back, when she felt a cold nose on her skin.

"Oh Nymeria," she breathed and petted her husky.

Nymeria was the last connection she had to the North. Ned had always preferred to call them Direwolves, acknowledging the fact the Stark's huskies reminded him of his favourite legend. Summer sat by Bran's side, occasionally nudging his leg. No one made conversation that night, as every topic possible would lead to them crying.

She cut and cut until the brown hair that had once been long was now short, choppy, and uneven. Bran sat behind her in the bathroom, examining birth certificates and identity cards. Arya and Bran were always close growing up, and he realized why she wanted to do this. Of course he didn't want her to get hurt, but Bran knew Arya; and it was better to be on her side than to make her fight alone.

"Arry Snow of Mobile Alabama," Bran commented. "Isn't that a bit obvious? Arry, Arya. Snow, Jon Snow. Mobile Alabama, here..."

Arya scoffed, "I didn't think about it too much..."

"How about Arry Williams?" Bran asked.

She gave a slight nod at his idea, and examined her appearance. The hair would be passable, but she was worried most about the three attributes she couldn't help. It was mostly her monthly "gift" she was anxious about, but her voice, and wrapping her breasts with cloth... She'd worry about those as the time became closer. Arya thought back to the letter that they received, the last sentence replaying over and over in her mind:

If we can help in any way, at any time, we shall count it a privilege.

And she might just take them up on the offer.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and gave me kudos(:
Sorry for the long wait (i've been busy with homework and basketball) and im also sorry for not really knowing how to work this website.

You guys are honestly so nice to me and i cant thank you enough!

Thanks to RobbMadden on Tumblr, go follow her shes freaking fab and is the reason why I'm doing this story.

Please tell me if there are any big mistakes in the story, sorry.

Oh aha i'm on season 3 of GoT, binge watching is fun.

Stay nifty guys.

-BrandonnStark43

PS. To all those who reviewed, Thank you so much! I'm sort of new to fanfiction and all, so thank you guys for being so nice! honestly you are all on point!

PPS. I'm thinking about writing a story (probably will go on wattpad?), about a girl's perspective during WW2, from Germany. What do you guys think?

Thanks so much, I love you all.