Arya had only ever seen the mountains from afar as a child- never been into the rocky crags, the lakes that dipped between peaks into lush valleys. The small castle wasn't as imposing as Winterfell, just a small stone structure in the middle of a stone wall set against a rushing waterfall, with the 10-wolf banner of the Cassel's next to the Starks flapping in the wind. She couldn't help grinning- Jory's enthusiasm was infectious, and he gave her hand a quick squeeze before riding ahead of their party through the gate.
She came up a few moments later, laughing to herself as she saw Beth throw her arms around her cousin and hold him close. Beth sauntered over to Arya's horse and Arya dismounted gracefully. The Cassel woman held her face in between her hands, smiling warmly and searching her eyes.
"I can see so much of your father in you", she said, making Arya frown for a quick moment but accepting it as a compliment. She shared Jory's soft eyes, but she had a strong chin like Ser Rodrick had had.
Beth hugged Arya close. Over her shoulder she saw Jory go over to a fruit vendor, one of the few farmers that made their way North to try to unload a surplus. He bought an apple from the man, a man in his 50th year with blonde hair and a short, pug-like nose- but striking green eyes which fixed onto Arya's. She felt a knot develop in her belly. As he winked at her and smirked, she gasped.
Jory held her hand and she laughed, free to give him open-mouthed kisses among the catcalls and drunken mumblings of the small Hall. Again, not as big as Winterfells', but she remembered shivering in the cold on King's Road, cuddling between two large hogs for warmth. She was not picky. Besides it was wonderful seeing Jory so carefree- its something she had wanted for herself, but she couldn't tear her mind away from that odd farmer in the yard. She did not know the man, but he was…familiar somehow.
"An apple for a Lady?" she heard someone ask her from behind. Arya's back stiffened and knew it was the farmer.
"A girl is no longer a girl…and a man has noticed."
She turned and looked up at his face, still smiling down at her but becoming younger somehow, the farmer-tan smoothing back into a face she recognized. She stood solemnly and tugged his cloak for him to follow.
Jory's eyes narrowed and he stood up, trying in vain to see above the crowd and wish he could hear what they were saying. He saw his Lady wife arguing with a farmer who serenely looked at her. He noticed the farmer touching her arm, her arms crossed over her chest. A single tear fell from her eye, and Arya looked up then, meeting eyes with her husbands questioning face. She walked away then, whirling into the kitchen's. The farmer surveyed the room quickly and walked casually the opposite way.
Arya sat in a stairwell, the stone cold against her but a welcome strength against her weakness. When had she gotten so…weak? She had been so many people- she was looking forward to again being Arya Stark…or Arya Cassel. Either way, she would be Arya again. She thought it was behind her and then she saw Jaqen. Jaqen whom she thought about often, the handsome shape-shifter who had helped her 9 years ago and who she had always wondered about. What was he doing here?
"Did a girl think she could simply run home?" he had asked her. He touched her on the arm then, where the tear from her eye had landed.
"Yes actually- a Lady did! Jaqen or whatever your name really is, I am done. I was never a true servant anyways. I never gave all of myself away, didn't the Master know that? I did not even finish my first assignment. Why would you come a world away for me?"
"A man often wondered about the girl. The girl with the grey eyes and death in her soul. A man volunteered."
She remained puzzled and walked away then, through the kitchens.
Jory sat up underneath his furs, looking over inventory documents. He sighed. NOT what he had wanted to do on with his time alone, in his stronghold with his wife. He couldn't shake seeing the tear come down her freckly face He wanted nothing more than to throttle that farmer- what could he have possibly said? He knew Arya would have been furious- she certainly knew how to take care of herself. He cleared his throat, setting the documents aside as Arya entered their quarters, glancing at his face quickly as she entered and then avoiding his curious gaze.
She sat on the edge of the bed, removing her boots, standing when she felt him gently stroke her back. Not lustfully, but tenderly. She did not want the affection now. She did not deserve it. Arya did not regret her time in Braavos. But that was then and this is now. She stepped out of her dress acutely aware of his gaze on her.
Jory wanted no more than to hug her to his chest, but there were still some places she could not let him in yet. 'In her own time' he told himself. He wanted to know everything- about the farmer, about the House of Black and White.
"My wife…have I done something to offend you?", he said, oddly reminded of the time he had last seen her as a child- rushing in, telling her to pack her things before they fled the Red Keep.
Arya looked at him then and shook her head, crawling underneath the furs in her smallclothes and resting her head on his lap. He smoothed back her hair, laying a kiss on her crown before blowing out the lantern and laying down himself.
Arya sighed, wanting to shake him, tell him everything, lay down her burdens. But she could not; not to this man who had his own burdens to bear. When she finally felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she knew he was asleep. She slipped from underneath his large, warm hands, laying a kiss on one of his palms. She pulled on a shift and quietly went out the door. Jory rolled onto his side, his eyes open.