Epilogue

Four months later.

"It's C-11, guys, this way-"

"Did you pack your parka? Winter is coming-"

"Ned, sweetheart, that has to be the third-"

"Fourth time he's said that, Mum, I've counted-"

"Are we at the right terminal?"

"Gods, we'd better be-"

The party that had come to send Arya off could have passed for a small army. Robb and Theon bickered companionably while Rickon pushed Bran in his chair as they discussed the new X-Men movie. Yoren was interrogating Gendry while Hot Pie, Micah, and Lommy bumped shoulders, laughing. Catelyn and Ned walked behind Sansa, Jon, and Arya, who brought up the head of the party.

"I think this is it!" Arya cried, pointing it out to Sansa. Her hair in its fresh bob swung a little as she looked down to double-check the ticket.

"Looks like it," Jon agreed. Arya put the ticket in her pocket and turned resolutely to face her receiving line. Identical evil grins broke out on everyone's faces.

Robb grabbed Arya and held her still in his arms while Theon tickled her as she screamed with laughter and tried to stomp on his foot. Next, she plopped down onto Bran's lap to hug him properly, followed by a noogie and a kiss from Rickon. Arya then exchanged fist bumps with Micah and Lommy, and Hot Pie gave her something in a plastic bag ("It's a wolf! Mum and I will send you care packages from the bakery all the time." You'd better, Hot Pie."). Arya stopped short at Gendry.

Sansa smiled. Time for her sisterly duty.

"Hey guys!" The company of men (and Mum) turned around. Sansa tossed her hair casually over her shoulder. "Y'know, Dad was telling me the other day that he thinks Wolverine is overrated."

All of the boys cried out in outrage and gathered around poor Dad, who held up his hands and shrunk down to appear less threatening as the masses converged.

Over her mother's shoulder, (Mum was trying to do damage control), Sansa could just see Arya standing on her tiptoes to give an extremely flushed Gendry a kiss on the cheek, followed by a sock in the arm. They turned away from one another in embarrassment, cheeks glowing. Freaking adorable, Sansa thought fondly. Mum had finally succeeded in pulling her charges off of her husband, urging Arya to continue with her goodbyes. Yoren ruffled Arya's hair as he swore to Catelyn he wouldn't have done that bad a job of cutting it. Next, Arya hugged their mother, shared a long embrace and a whispered conversation with Daddy, and then she leapt into Jon's arms. At last, she turned to Sansa.

"Skype every Tuesday at seven, and don't you dare forget," Sansa said, a lump in her throat.

Arya looked a bit teary herself. "I won't forget," she promised, voice thick. Arya stepped forward to close Sansa in a bear hug. Sansa held on tightly.

"You're going to be amazing," she whispered to her sister. Sansa felt Arya smile against her shoulder.

Finally, they parted, Arya wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Group hug!" Bran declared, and Arya groaned and pretended she didn't like it while everyone pressed in around her.

"Don't stab yourself on accident, squirt."

"Remember, Jaqen is going to pick you up from the airport, and you're having dinner with him and Syrio tonight."

"We love yooooouuuu." At last, their family pulled back, and Arya stepped toward the gate.

"I'll see you at Christmas," Arya said, addressing the group at large as she picked up her carryon.

"Damn straight," Jon replied gruffly. Mum dabbed delicately at her eyes, and Sansa wrapped an arm around her.

She watched her little sister scanning the crowd of people who loved her, as if committing the picture to memory. Arya raised her hand to wave one last time, and then turned to walk to her gate. Illuminated by the sunlight pouring in from the windows, she walked through the terminal, past her gate, and out of sight.