a/n: Set in muted modern world of North Winter High School, where gender equality is just coming into fruition, where The Starks live in a humble home in the City of Winterfell in the Country of Westeros, and the Wall is a military training depot/academy.

So, you've been waiting for Jon to appear, right? Well, I'm going to plop him down into your laps suddenly. Enjoy!

The Ages are listed as the following:
Robb - 18
Sansa - 16
Arya - 15
Bran - 13
Rickon - 10
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Jon - 17
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Fic Summary: Arya was sick of standing on the sidelines, so when females were finally allowed, she didn't miss her chance to join The Wall Military Academy. She never expected it to be easy, in fact, she relished the challenge. Excelling in her first-year class unit, she's moved up with the third-year recruits and partnered with a boy named Jon who reminds her of home. But being the best-of-the-best doesn't always mean you'll be liked.

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The Wall Academy:
Elite Military Training Depot

Chapter Five: —

Arya was uneasy. It had been six months since Hell Week and the number of girl cadets had declined by half. Some couldn't take the intimidation of the drill instructors, some got injured or their bodies simply gave out, others couldn't take the constant pressure of it all. Arya wasn't like them. She excelled under pressure, and though she was very defiant, she wasn't going to openly defy Rodrik, not with her dream at stake, so she took the orders and complied like any good soldier. She threw herself into the marches and drills, her marksman skills, navigational skills, all of it, she excelled, top of all the girls. They seemed to hate her for it though, the other girls, but Arya didn't care, she wasn't hear to make friends, she was here to become the first female member of the elite Night's Watch, a Crow. She wasn't going to let anyone get in her way for anything, even if she had to be a lone-wolf or a robot.

That was why she was perplexed right now. She hadn't done anything wrong, so why was she at Castle Black, which acted as the administration building for the Lord Commander and all his ranking officers?

She sat in a row of empty seats against the wall, the desk of Officer Jafer Flowers across from her, in a grey BDU,his name on the breast and multiple pins, he didn't pay her any attention at all. She sat with her back straight, at attention, her hands clasped in her lap, her expression blank. She stared at the wall on the other side of the hall—she wasn't in trouble, she'd done nothing wrong.

"Cadet, you can go in now." Flowers told her suddenly, looking up.

"Yes, sir." She stood, and he went to the door next to his desk and opened it for her.

She stepped into the office, a desk at the closed window, the chair with the back turned to her. "Cadet Stark, reporting as requested, sir." She said, standing at attention.

"At ease," the voice held amusement and she recognized it instantly.

"Uncle Benjen?!" she gasped in surprise. "I-I mean... Colonel Stark."

"It's good to finally be able to see you, Arya." Benjen turned the chair around to face her.

It was true, the six months that she had been at the Wall, she hadn't seen the man once. She wondered how that could be, but knew that it was because of her constant training, and being the second-in-command of an Academy and Compound of this size kept Benjen as busy as her. She should have realized that his was his office, his name would have been the door, but she hadn't looked for it like she should have, and Flowers blocked it from view when he let her in. She felt like an idiot.

"You, too... um?" she seriously wasn't sure what she was supposed to call him.

"Well, I see you have a lot to talk about." He laughed lightly, standing and coming around the front of his desk, leaning his ass back against the edge.

"Uncle, I—"

He waved her explanation away. "I was a cadet, too, once. I know what the life is like, it consumes you, becomes the fire in you blood."

Arya nodded, he got it like her mother never could.

"That's why I called you in,"

"Am I in trouble? Should I tone it down?" she was incredulous.

"Whoa! Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, okay? But since you mentioned it, is there something that I should know about?"

"What? No way!... sir."

He gave her a smile and then his expression turned serious and he stood up from leaning back on his desk. "You've been doing good work here, Arya. You've advance well ahead of the other cadets in your group—it's almost frightning, really—that's why I've decided to extract you from the first-year girls group and partner you with Jon Snow, he's one of our best third-year cadets—like you."

"What! I don't need a babysitter!" She protested.

He shook his head. "Jon's not a babysitter."

"So you say," she muttered. "But you're not giving any of the others a 'partner'."

He chuckled lightly. "No, you're right. First years stay in group units. It's only until you advance to the second year that you get separated into partners, but even then it's only cadets in the same year. Jon is third-year. Arya, you're only 15; you came to the Wall half a year ago and have advanced to a third-year ranking. Under Jon and mine's tutelage, you can become the youngest Crow in history, not just the first female. This is a grand achievement, not some ploy of mine because I am your uncle. A girl, my niece, it does not matter. No one gets special treatment here, no one—that's how men get killed."

Aray thought about it for a moment, thought back and realized that Benjen was right. No special treatment had been thrown her way, in fact, because she was named Stark and was one of the handful of girls that had been accepted, she was thrown into the mud as often as she turned a corner.

Yeah, it hadn't been long before the other recruits found out her last name was Stark, just like the second-in-command at the Wall, and not for a second did they believe that she wasn't getting special treatment. She got here by herself, by her own power, not her Uncle, she never believed that for a second.

If she had thought things had been tough before, they were going to be hell once her first-year cadets found out, the second-years too, but especially the third-yars. And what about this Jon Snow? How was he going to feel about being partnered through the rest of training with a first-year—and a girl at that.

She sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"No in the least." He told her cheerfully.

"Is this fun for you? Like some sick pleasure? Torturing the cadets under you."

"Come now, cadet, is that any way to treat your superior officer?"

"I knew it," she muttered, but stood at attention anyways.

"I'll decide not to reprimand you for that little comment... Flowers!" he hollered, "Get Snow in here, on the double."

"Aye, sir!" came the voice beyond the door from Benjen's attendant.

"No need to look so worried, Arya."

"I'm not!" Arya denied. "This is just the rest of my life you're playing with."

"Arya, you have the potential to be the best. So don't you want to grab every advantage that you can?" Benjen asked.

She eyed him for a long moment, her hands tightening at her sides for a moment before they relaxed again. "Yes, sir."

"Sir, I have Jon Snow for you." Flower reported, opening the door and gesturing the teen into the room before closing the door again.

"Cadet Snow, reporting, sir." The older teen stood at attention next to Arya.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He had dark glossy hair that was curly and waving at the same time, with dark brown eyes, a clean shaven chin as was regulation for male cadets. And inch or so shorter than Benjen, he was lean but muscled. He wore the same, plain green, simple BDUs as her but he had a bone pin on his breast to show that he was, indeed, and third-year cadet—as well as his call sign that all third-years were given, LORD SNOW. She could almost swear she had met him before, but knew that she hadn't, she remembered her faces.

"Jon, come over here." Benjen jerked his head.

"Yes, sir." Jon said, walking over to Benjen.

Benjen put a familiar arm around the teens shoulders.

He seemed so familiar, standing there next to Benjen. She narrowed her eyes, peering closer at the older boy. It was staring her in the face. Maybe if it slapped her she would get it, but it didn't, so she didn't. Whatever. What did it matter? That wasn't what was important right now.

"Jon, this is Arya. She's a first-year cadet. I'm assigning the two of you partners." Benjen explained.

Jon looked startled for a second before clearing his expression. He looked at Arya for a long moment, assessing her. "That's fine." He said, simple as that.

Arya couldn't help but feel surprised. She would have expected the boy to be angry—angry at being partnered with a first-year in the first place, but much less a girl. Though the girls were all grouped together, trained under instructor Rodrik and Jory, not interacting with the boys much, when they did, the boys weren't afraid to show their contempt. Some of the girls were better then their first-year boy counterparts, and an embarrassed boy always meant a vengeful boy. Arya was getting it from both sides; coming first in the APA course had not been a fluke.

So if Jon was angry about this partnership, he hid the feelings well. She herself couldn't help feel the knot of anticipation in her stomach. Things were going to be tougher now, she was only a first-year, but would be treated like a third-year. She needed this challenge, had been quietly begging for it. Being stuck in the first-years girls group was dragging her down—it was like having a high school education but being stuck in fifth grade.

"That great, because even if you both hated the fact, I'm the second around here so my word is final while the Lord Commander is away." Benjen clapped him on the shoulder.

Jon looked at him with a dry expression. "So that's why you're getting away with this, huh?"

Arya was a little shocked at how casually he spoke, but Benjen chuckled at the comment. "Glad to see that Thorne hasn't cut your tongue out yet."

"Don't hold your breath."

"Well, be on your way now, the two of you." Benjen gave Jon a light shove towards Arya and went back around his desk. "Drills and what have you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." They chanted and saluted in unison and turned to leave.

"Don't worry about your things, Arya," Benjen called back, gazing out the window, his office facing the Gift, "I already had all your things moved to the third-year barracks."

Arya wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she just continued on without comment. All he did was move her footlocker, which held her uniforms and toiletries, the things most important to her was secured around her neck. They kept a quiet pace with each other down the halls of Castle Black and it wasn't until they stepped out of the building that Arya finally decided to say something.

"Since we're going to be partners for the rest of our training," she said evenly, "we should be %100 truthful with each other." She paused in stride and he stopped with her. "Do you have a problem being partners with me because I'm a girl?" she asked bluntly.

A twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips before his expression turned serious. "Like I said earlier, it doesn't bother me. Girl, boy, that doesn't matter. As long as you're good, and have my back, I'll have yours."

"Good choice of words," Arya nodded. "The same goes for me too." The started walking again, Jon leading her to the third-year barracks. "I think this partnership will go rather well."

"I think you're right." He smiled. "When we get there, you should change into a new uniform that'll have your call on it. If Thorne comes and your out of uniform, you'll have hell to pay. He's a real bastard about that sort of thing."

"Really? Then why do you still have all that hair on your head?" Arya mused. They were chatting as if they had been friends for years instead of having just met five-minutes ago—she didn't think she could feel this comfortable around someone she'd just met.

"It's still regulation, just like yours." He pointed out.

Arya resisted the urge to touch her own short brown locks. It had been at the end of Hell Week that she had decided that her hair had to go. It had always been unruly and tangled before, and even after she was taught the proper way to pin it into a bun, it would never stay in it. What would it matter anyways? If she didn't like it short, above the collar of her uniform, she could always grow it long again. But after she had gotten it cut, things became much more easier for her. It didn't take her as long to shampoo and rinse her hair, or for it to dry, brushing it was easier, she didn't have to worry about getting punished because its state was unacceptable by a man who had a sideburn-beard. It was life made easy. It no longer got in her eyes during a drill, she didn't have to scramble to get it up for sudden wake-up calls and night marches.

She felt more of a cadet for it, like she was cutting away a past life, one where she had long hair. If you didn't specifically know that she was a girl, and you could outwardly see her breasts, you would think her a small boy instead. She found it was better this way.

The third-year barracks were the same as the first-year barracks which were mirrors of all the barracks in Brandon's Gift. A long rectangular building with ten sets of bunks pushed against either of the long walls, making room for thirty-nine stinky teenage males and not so foul smelling young girl.

Jon led her into the rooming building, it half full with third-years amid their hour of square-away time, the other half were out probably doing things like laundry, showering, working out, or in the wreck room with it's single television, radio and out of date board games.

Jon leaned against the bed post as Arya crouched in front of her footlocker at the foot of the bunk and got out another uniform. Just like Jon had said, there was a name stitched into the left breast. NIGHT WOLF. She found herself grinning, instantly falling in love with it. Of course she was a little disappointed that she didn't get to pick hers, but she knew that it could have gone a completely other way. She knew that Benjen must have picked it for her, he was the one who moved her in with the third-years and he knew her so well.

She closed the footlocker and set the folded uniform on top, and stood. She started to unbutton her shirt and saw Jon turn his gaze away, being a gentleman. Arya rolled her eyes at the action, it wasn't like she was naked under it. She had on a sports bra for support, a tank, and then tee shirt; she was as covered as the rest of them. She put on the uniform shirt with her moniker. She buttoned up, smoothed any wrinkles and then refolded the one that she had discarded and put it in her locker.

"Did—" Jon looked at her questionably but she stopped when she felt someone foul come up behind her, and Jon narrowed his eyes at the person behind her.

"What's this then? They finally gave you a partner like the rest of us, Snow? Not so special now, are you?" the other recruit said mocking and scornful. "And lookit him, too!"

Arya turned around to come face to face with one of the ugliest boys she had ever laid her eyes on. He was a shorter than Jon, his natural hair colour must have been brown, but it was several shades darker with sweat and grease. He was chubby, too, and his face was covered in really bad acne. His teeth were crooked and yellowed. The name on his breast was POOCH, and Arya held back the bark of laughter.

"'Ow the hell did you make it to third year, huh, boy?" It appeared that he didn't know she was a girl, even as he looked her up and down, sizing her up. Neither she nor Jon said a word to correct him. "Night Wolf? Should be Bean Sprout, more like. Heh heh heh heh. Maybe some of that love's worn off, huh, Lord Snow?"

Arya really wanted to hit this guy, but she held back. Jon made no move, said no words, his expression didn't even show what he truly must be feeling, just a bored expression. Pooch didn't seem to like that one bit and was turning red in the face in his own anger, making his acne seem even brighter red in comparison

"This isn't over, Snow." The ugly, acne-faced boy hawked on the floor at Jon's feet before turning back to his bunk on the other side of the barracks.

Arya looked after him for a moment before she sat on the footlocker and looked up at Jon next to her questioningly. "What the hell was that about?"

Jon sat down on the bottom bunk that was hers now. "Our first year, we were doing hand-to-hand combat training, we were paired together. He made the first move that was his last move. I floored him instantly in front of everyone and he's held a grudge since."

Arya looked dubious, wondering how that could be it but didn't press further. Did he really think that? She would let it go for now, but could Jon really be this naive? She didn't get to think on it further because the door to the barracks burst open and the third-year drill sergeant Alliser Thorne tromped in wearing a black Night's Watch uniform with the crow badge on the shoulder.

"Line it up, maggots!" Thorne hollered and every recruit scrambled to stand at attention in front of their footlockers, presenting themselves, including Arya. "Inspection time!" Jon wasn't lying when he said that Thorne was a bastard, half the boys were in the aisle doing push-ups as punishment for micro-faults in their areas like the sheet on the bed wasn't tucked right, or the line of buttons on the uniform shirt didn't line up with the trouser zipper. Arya could feel her heart beat nervously as he stopped in front of her and Jon. The pair stood still, at attention, staring straight ahead as Thorne inspected their bunk area.

"Very good, Snow." Thorne muttered, leaning close to Jon's ear. "But not good enough!" Jon flinched at the sudden raised voice in his ear. "Unfolded bed corner. Hit the floor!"

Jon's expression stayed blank as he got onto the floor, going through the push-ups like butter, some of the other boys finally finished and climbing back to their feet, sweaty faced and at attention. As Jon pumped those out, Thorne turned his attention and scorn it seemed, onto her.

"Who the hell are you?!" He barked, close to her face.

"Night Wolf, sir. Colonel Stark assigned me half-an-hour ago, sir." She answered crisply. She wasn't sure whether she was supposed to use her call or real name—she'd find out soon enough.

"Oh, did he then? Where were you previously?"

"First-year recruits, sir. In the female barracks." They were going to find out sooner or later since she was now going to be living here—sleeping with them, showering with them—might as well get it out of the way.

That made Thorne pause if for but a moment, and the news caused the other recruits to start muttering. "Shut Up!" He barked back at them and they did, but that didn't stop the glances her way.

So the secret was out now. But why was Thorne acting like he didn't know? Did Benjen not even tell him? Had he just thrown her into the piranha pool bleeding and unprepared?

"Give me your name, cadet." He ordered.

Arya swallowed, this was probably about to be worse then being a female. But there was no way around it. "Arya Stark, sir."

And that got a bigger reaction than before as she had predicted. It was one thing having been a first-year half-an-hour ago, it was another being a girl, it was a whole different thing all together being the second-in-commands niece.

"I said SHUT UP! Give me fifty, right now. All of you!" He yelled, and everyone dropped to the floor. His cold stare held her in place. "That goes for you too, Snow." Jon had just fninshed with his fifty for the corner of the bed and now he had to do fifty again. "Stark, huh? The Colonel sent you over here. Smart, making this move when the Lord Commander is away. Well, it seems I'm stuck with you for the time being, but don't think you can get off just because you're a girl, or a Stark. You're all the same in my eyes, scum that ain't worth a pot of piss. Give me seventy, right now, cadet!" Thorne shouted in her face.

Arya dropped to the floor, levering herself onto her toes and palms and started to pump, her body straight like a board. Seventy? This was outrageous, nothing had been wrong with her presentation. He was punishing her for the simple fact that she was a Stark. She knew things like this would happen, but that still didn't make it feel any less unjust.

As punishment for not being properly squared-away, Rodrik had only made them do twenty push ups. Did all first-years do twenty, boys too, or had they been going easy on the girls this whole time? Or did the punishment get grander after each year? The thought of that mistreatment made anger flare through her, was the this whole thing just a sham?

Her arms were shaking by forty, sweat beading on her forehead. Everyone else was already finished and she could feel all their gazes burning into her. By fifty, it was dripping from her nose. She lost her strong pace a while back, now at sixty. The back of her shoulders ached, her arms trembling now. She was nearly there though, a few more to go.

"Come on, Stark." Thorne mocked her. "If you can't even do seventy, what are you even doing here?"

She wasn't going to collapse, she wasn't. Being a girl didn't make her weak, it just meant that she had to do more to prove herself. It was having to do that 'more', that made her stronger in the end. It was why she was going to do seventy and not show weakness, that, and her determination that carried her through. 67, 68, 69. She felt pressure on her back as she started push up for her last push-up and knew that Thorne had planted his boot on her back. She grunted, straining against it.

"Come on, Stark. Push. Show us all that bringing females to the Wall wasn't a complete joke!"

Arya gritted her teeth, straining not to buckle under the weight. She was not a joke. She pushed back against him, grunting harshly and suddenly her arms were fully extended and she was up—she'd gotten her seventy. Thorne took his foot away, and though all Arya wanted to do was hug the floor, she got to her feet.

She stood at attention, she straightened her aching back. Her arms trembling at her sides. Sweat dripped into her eyes as she started straight ahead. Gasping lightly. Jon sent her a proud glance. Thorne stood in front of her, watching her for a very long, nerve wracking, minute, his expression hard.

"It seems you're not a complete failure, Stark." And he turned away from her. "Outside! Marching formation! NOW!"

Everyone turned as one a filed through the door. Jon shot her a look, but she gave him a small nod, telling him she was fine. And she was. It didn't matter what Thorne tried to throw her way to get her placed back with the first-years. She would face it all head-on and pound it into dust.

This was the start of a very long, very harsh couple of years. But that was all part of the ride, wasn't it?

-tbc-
********Game/of/Thrones********

Note:

I have no idea whether or not seventy push ups is a lot, but even if it isn't, it seems that way to me. I haven't done a push up in years, so don't ask me.

The Key:

Recruit Descriptors: - First-year recruits uniforms are blank but for the leaf pin dubbing them a green or new recruits who's names aren't worth knowing.
- Second-year recruits get their names on their uniforms, with a grass pin.
- Third-year cadets have a bone pin, and get a codename or nickname on their uniforms
- Fourth-year recruits get a talon pin, their uniforms have their true names on the breast, are ranked as privates, and have dog tags, stating their identification number, first initial, whole last name, on the second tag is their ID# and their codename. This year is when they are trained in specific duties that they will carry out as an officer when they graduate training school and gain the rank of corporal.

Stark Notes:
- Six months into her first-year of training, Benjen fast-tracts Arya to the third-years and partners her with one of his favoured cadets, Jon Snow.
- Jon has no blood relation to the Starks... or does he?

Thanks for Reading!

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