After the last guest had departed the next morning, Arya was alone in the godswood, accompanied only by Nymeria. She stroked the direwolf's fur absentmindedly.
"Did you recognize Rickon?" she murmured to her beloved pet. "I didn't."
As if in response, the animal let out a solitary, haunting howl. Somewhere from inside the castle, Shaggydog responded, and then all was quiet.
"She did."
Arya whirled around, startled by the voice.
Little Rickon Stark found himself with his sister's sword at his throat.
"Sorry." Arya muttered begrudgingly, sheathing the blade. "You frightened me."
"It's alright. You didn't mean to." He answered quietly, sitting down on the ground beside her. They sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the view. "So, uh, how's Sansa?"
Arya frowned.
"Good, I suppose. She heard from Bran a few days after I returned. He's doing well beyond the Wall."
"That's nice to know. Any word from Jon?" Rickon asked.
"No, not while I've been here. She got a letter from him just after she was crowned. He's away in Casterly Rock doing business with Tyrion Lannister"
"D'you miss him?"
The question caught her off guard.
"Who?"
"Father." Came the reply, soft and hesitantly, like a child.
"Yes," she breathed, "Very much so."
Rickon picked at the seam of his tunic awkwardly.
"I don't remember him well." he sighed, "I was so little."
"You know what he looked like from his statue in the crypts, right?" she pointed out. After her brother nodded she continued, "Well, he was even more handsome than that, and he was a just and fair ruler. In fact, he was the most honorable man I have ever known."
Before Rickon could reply, the heavy footfalls of Ser Trevyr approached, crushing the red leaves beneath them. He paused, trying to catch his breath.
"Lady Stark-and Lord Stark I suppose, - your sister is holding a trial for the Man who accompanied you here. Do you want to attend?" Arya rose.
"Yes." She answered. "Let me change into something more suitable for court, and I will see that justice is served."
Some time later…
Arya sprinted to the Great Hall, trying to catch some of the trial. As she had expected, the side doors were closed, and two Queensguard stood in front.
"Madam," a tall, sandy-haired one said, "I'm afraid that court has already started. You may not enter at this time."
She drew herself up straight.
"I am Arya Stark, of this ancestral house. I will enter this room." With those words, she shoved them aside and strode into court.
Her sister perched upon her throne, looking as regal as always. Her Tully blue eyes were focused on the man at the base of the great seat.
"Now tell me again," Sansa said coolly, "How you came across Lady Stark?"
"You see, your Grace, she approached me in Braavos, asking about a voyage to the North. I told her that I was heading your way, but I had to be careful because of our shared… occupation. We were simply heading to the Wall when your men found us."
"I see." Sansa spoke, dangerously calm, "You had no idea that she was of House Stark, and had no intention of harming her?"
"No, your Grace. I was a traveling companion. That is all."
"Then why, may I ask, was she found in a sleep like death?"
The prisoner's face grew pale.
"She, um, stumbled on a root and hit her head on a, uh, rock."
"Liar." Sansa whispered softly.
And for the first time, Arya felt truly afraid of her sister.