The Court of Bastards

by MariDark

Stannis takes Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen from her mother's dying arms and raises her as his ward. The New King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, decides that her fate is to wed with shame, making her family line continue in disgrace by pairing her to his friend's bastard, Jon Snow, despite Eddard Stark's initial refusal.

7. Arya I

"Why do we even need to be here?" Arya grumbled, pulling at the neck of her dress as her whole family stood by the East Gate's courtyard. She stood in a duckling line with her siblings. Her gown was as suffocating as always and the mud was staining the hem of her cape, her boots and the stupid dress. Arya knew that Septa Mordane would find a way to blame her. "It's not like we like House Bolton, or they like us."

"He is father's bannerman, Arya," Sansa drawled out with that know-it-all tone of hers. Arya wished she could pull at her stupid pretty braid. It was the same one as Jon's new princess wife was wearing, Sansa even put in a ribbon. It was obviously not the same disgustingly rich kind as the Targaryen used, but, as always, Sansa made do with what Father allowed her to buy. "We must say our farewells. It's only proper, as he is our first guest to leave."

The younger girl rolled her eyes, mouthing Sansa's words mockingly. Her sister huffed and promptly ignored her. Arya didn't hesitate in following her actions.

Stark eyes roamed through the Northern crowd gathered in the courtyard. In the bridge overlooking the courtyards, Arya could see the Dornish guests standing beside Lord Stannis and his younger brother. Lord Renly met her gaze and smiled, Arya narrowed her eyes at him and turned away. She moved her eyes back to her Mother and Father, and Robb, as they accompanied Jon and Daenerys to speak with the Bolton lord. Rolling her eyes away from them, Arya leaned forward so she could look at the line of guests a bit to her right.

The big Yi Tish man with his squinting dark eyes, strange armour and sword beside a man with a shocking head of yellow hair. They were huddled together a few paces beside Rickon — her brother was struggling against Septa Mordane's claws, as he should be —and the yellow-headed man had a cryptic smile on his face as he gazed at the Starks and Targaryens. His eyes were the same squinting eyes of the whispering armoured man beside him, but they were a strange dark grey. Actually, his eyes were almost like Jon's own dark grey eyes.

Arya had once said Jon had dark silver eyes, but, unfortunately, Mother had been near and had listened to her words and, well. After that shrill tantrum, Arya made sure to never speak of Jon's pretty face in her Mother's presence. And Jon was pretty, sure. As pretty as his wife actually.

The youngest Stark daughter turned back to the young pair standing behind the Stark Lord and Lady, huddled close together. His dark cape was glued to the older girl's own white one, their faces close to each other, lips moving silently in quiet conversation. Arya narrowed her eyes at them, suspicious as she took notice of their shared features. Jon had the Stark colours and long face, but he was far more pretty than their father or their uncle could ever hope to be.

His mother must've been some foreign woman.

Yes, she nodded silently to herself. Jon's mother must've been foreign, like Daenerys.

She moved her gaze back to the squinty-eyed duo, leaning further forward so she could better look at the yellow man in golden foreign robes. Maybe Jon's mother was a squinty-eyed Yi Tish woman, and if she was, maybe she could convince him to run to Yi Ti with her! That way, he wouldn't have to go to the Gift and rule a boring a castle with a stuck up princess. Jon wasn't born to sit on a pretty chair or to become some kind of fake prince. He belonged in Winterfell, by her side and Robb's, and Bran's, and Father's.

Surprisingly, the yellow-haired man was already looking at her, clearly ignoring the other man's furiously whispered words by his side. His eyes were very hooded. He looked like a grinning fox, she decided. His vibrant hair was very slick and smooth, with a long fringe framing his angular face on both sides and a portion of his hair pinned up on the back of his head like the new fruit that had been circling Winterfell; the pineapple.

Arya blinked and the man only grinned. He winked at her, taking on slender hand from his long and bell-like sleeves to put a finger over his mouth. Arya glared and opened her mouth to ask what in the seven hells he meant when a hand grasped her shoulder and yanked her back into line.

She knew that hand better than any of her siblings.

"Lady Arya!" Septa Mordane's reproachful voice fell over her like needles. Arya narrowed her eyes. Like embroidery needles. And that made all of it much worse. "Keep your posture, young lady! Look at your sister, so well behaved while you bend yourself over!" Arya rolled her eyes so hard, it was quite possible they would roll out of her head. Shaking her shoulder from the old woman's grasp, she crossed her arms with a huff. Septa Mordane kept complaining behind her and praising Sansa as if she was the Mother come again. She pressed her lips together to contain her strangled scream of frustration. She should crouch and make mud balls and throw them at them both, show them how uncourtly and wild Arya Stark could truly be.

"Septa Mordane," Sansa started, voice low and sweet as her lemon cakes. She'd no doubt just throw more wood into the fire and join the stupid Septa in her tirade, and Arya would have to stand there until Mother came back and reprimanded her too. Just perfect. "Please, stop."

Surprised, Arya and Septa Mordane stared at the redhead with wide eyes. Arya turned towards her Septa, her brows high on her forehead as the older woman shrugged back in response. Huffing, Sansa kept her eyes glued ahead, a faint blush appearing on her white cheeks.

"Very well, my lady." Curtsying, the Septa seeped back. They remained silent, and Sansa ignored her younger sister's suspicious looks. Sansa Stark did not defend her wild sister, and Arya Stark did not defend her lady sister; she thought that was their silent deal and Sansa had just breached their usual silent contract making Arya confused in how she should proceed.

"She's nicer now, isn't she?" Bran whispered furiously by her side, leaning on her body and bringing his lips closer to her ears. Arya bent her knees just a little, keeping her eyes glued to the blushing redhead beside her. "I think it's because of Lady Dany," A scowl almost came to her lips at hearing her name. "She's been following her like a duckling."

Huffing, she turned towards her brother, disdain clear in her voice. "And what? Begging for new dresses or new jewels? To take her to her manse in Braavos?" Arya straightened, letting her arms fall to her sides as she moved her eyes to him, shaking her head. "Perhaps Sansa wants to marry her and become a princess herself?"

"Arya!" A hiss by her side made them both look at completely red Sansa and Septa Mordane. Bran giggled behind her and Arya wished more than anything that he'd been born in her stead, that way, she wouldn't have to stand beside Sansa. "I can hear you both, you must know!"

"How could a lady speak such profanities about her own sister!" Septa Mordane looked ready to explode, turning g purple with rage. She was very prude. All Arya had was to put Sansa's dreams into words. Everybody in Winterfell could see how she admired Jon's wife. Perhaps if Sansa married Daenerys, Jon wouldn't have to go away!

"What?" She moved her head between the two, confused. "What'd I say wrong?" Crossing her arms once, more, she squinting at Sansa, a drawl and clear challenge in her voice as she cocked her head to the side. "Wouldn't you like to marry her and become a princess?"

"That's not how it works, Arya!" Sansa practically shrieked and then ran from the courtyard. As she disappeared into the main keep, Arya stood there with wide eyes as the dead silence fell over her shoulders. All conversation in the place had stopped and Arya could just feel her Mother's glare. Bran's mocking was evident, just from the air around him and the way his shoulders shook. She thought that it was all salvageable. What more could go wrong?

Rickon, that was.

"Sansan wanna marry Princess! Sansan wanna marry Princess!" Her littlest brother sang, laughing all the while as he fell over a shaking with laugher Bran.

Fuck, she thought as the shocked gasps of the guests around them echoed in her ears. Arya let her eyes close, her shoulders sagged in defeat as she shook her head in faint denial. Mother would kill her for that stunt.

Opening her eyes, she met her mother's furious gaze along with her father's calm and collected one. She watched as Catelyn turned towards the amused Lord Bolton — she wanted to throw mud at his stupid smirk — before marching to her with a furious look. Busted, she thought with a dejected sigh, lifting one arm just before her Mother grabbed it and dragged her away. How did she even know it was her fault? It could totally have been Bran's fault! Or, more obviously she was sure, Rickon's! Not every time Sansa ran away crying was her fault. Arya could be innocent too.

Arya looked back to see Septa Mordane shaking her head at Rickon. She could see her mouthing the name 'Arya' and the word 'wrong'. It was her who bailed her out, then. Of course.

By the corner of her eye, she saw the pineapple man turned towards her, a wide grin on his mouth as he watched her. Their eyes met and it only made him more excited, so much he looked scary. His eyes looked like silver in the sunlight, and his hair shone brightly like fresh dye. Strands of smooth hair danced with the cool summer breeze, his thin lips stretched wide as white teeth seemed to sparkle. A doll, the man was a pineapple doll.

Arya stuck her tongue out at him, disappearing inside the keep.

•••

Couldn't she just run away with Jon and fund a sellsword company? It could be very profitable with Jon's incredible sword skills. If they managed to convince Bran, then they'd be the best to ever roam the realms. She with her quick foot and wit, Jon with his deadly swords and Bran with his sneakiness. They could call themselves, the Shadow Wolf, working in behind the scenes, silent like the night. Death would envy their work

As her mother raged with Father, Sansa cried in the background, Bran and Rickon played a clapping game sitting on the floor and Robb just sat in an armchair with his head in his hands, Arya used the time to plan her scape.

"Now they will think terrible, sinful things about Sansa! She will never have a worthy husband!" Sansa bawled her eyes out, sitting in Father's chair — the most comfortable in his solar. Arya thought she was quite lucky — and hugging her knees to her chest. Father kneeled by her feet, caressing her beautiful long hair and whispering sweet comforting words to her. Her brow twitched in faint annoyance as Mother, once more, raved in anger. "This is all because of that boy and girl's marriage! We should've known that someone as…as promiscuous as they would bring such awful things to our children, Ned!"

Father sighed. "The only promiscuous individual in this castle is Theon and we all know that." Ah, so promiscuous was what Theon was. Arya glared at her mother then, opening her mouth, ready to defend Jon. "And Sansa will certainly have a good husband in the far future, there are many asking for your hand already." Those words he directed to his oldest daughter, who peeked at him through her fingers with hopeful eyes.

"There were?"

"There were?" Arya asked incredulously. Her family looked at her with deadpan eyes, all of them nodding to Sansa's clearly distressed form. Arya blinked. "Oh. Of course, there were…" Sansa frowned at her, lower lip trembling as her eyes filled with tears. Arya looked at her father with desperate eyes. Help! Do something!

Ned Stark sighed, shaking his head at her and redirecting his eyes back to Sansa. "Aye. Princes from the Free Cities, lords, heirs…You are not unwanted Sansa. Your brother only jested, and he is but a babe. Calm yourself, everything is not lost." Sansa then nodded, finally letting her legs fall as she sat correctly. Father swept her tears away as Catelyn sat on the arm of the chair, pulling at the wet strands of hair that were glued wetly to her face. "You are beautiful, you all are. My children will have only the best of lives, so don't cry, Sansa."

"Aye," Arya took a tentative step forward, going on the tip of her toes so she could see beyond the top of her father's heavy wood desk. She rested her arms on it, putting her chin on top of them and looking away. "I'm sorry. I was just angry. I didn't mean to ruin your life, I swear." Her mother's dry cough reached her and Arya sighed in defeat. She turned her eyes towards Sansa, boldly meeting her sister's clear blue gaze. "Forgive me, Sansa. I didn't mean to ruin your reputation and chances of…" She scowled furiously, face twisting as she moaned lowly in disgust and then spit the words out. "Chances of marriage." The words were said as if they were a sentence of death, which Arya agreed completely.

The Starks sighed while Rickon and Bran fell over themselves giggling. Robb snickered breathlessly behind her, stepping forward until he stood beside her. Her older brother planted his large callused hand on her hair, messing it regardless of their mother's warning to not mess with her dark tresses.

"Though," She continued slyly, her eyes moving to each of their faces. "Let's all agree that Septa Mordane's face does not agree with that shade of purple." The boys laughed loudly, bending forward and holding their bellies as they nodded. Sansa chuckled wetly with Father and they all ignored Mother's amused sigh.

Father got back on his feet, offering his hand to Sansa. Her sister accepted his hand shyly, jumping from his armchair and walking around the table. Robb offered his arm to her and she immediate tucked herself at his side. Rickon ran into Arya's leg and offered his arms up, demanding to be carried. Arya crochet down, securing him into her arms and standing back up as Bran stood beside her. Mother remained sitting on the arm of Father's chair, smiling down at him when he sat and hugged her wait with a strong arm. The view was disgustingly sweet.

Arya fake retched, making disgusted faces at Rickon, who put his little face into her neck and giggled quietly. Robb stepped on her foot lightly, making her turn to him with a guilty smirk that he answered with a raised eyebrow. But she knew what he meant; their parents had been at odds with each other for a long time now, it was good they were back to the in love pair Arya always remembered.

"My children," Their father started, making them all turn towards him in attention. "As you know by now, Jon has finally married his match." Unfortunately, Arya couldn't help but think. Her lips turned downwards as she tried to contain her scowl. "Soon, he and all of our guests will go further North, to Queenscrown. Usually, as the new lord's father, I'd accompany him. But, I…" Father frowned, sighing and then meeting their gazes. "Your mother and I have come to the decision to stay behind."

"What?!" Arya exclaimed, her mouth half-opening and closing many times before she smacked her lips together.

"Father!" Robb stared, stepping forward and shaking his head as he frowned heavily. "House Stark is the new overlord to House Targaryen of the Gift! Surely we should accompany them?!"

"House Targaryen is not under our rule," Ned spoke, his face stern as he met his son's gaze. "House Targaryen answers only to the Night's Watch. Jon is, technically, of equal footing as a Lord Paramount; all houses who settle in the Gift will answer to him only, and his House has no obligations to the Seven Kingdoms beyond shielding us from what lies beyond the Wall."

Arya couldn't tell what Father thought of House Targaryen's situation, but Mother was clearly displeased.

"But shouldn't we see Jon's castle at least once?" Sansa spoke then, gulping and moving her gaze down as she clasped her hands in front of her. "As House Targaryen is now a branch of our own House, we should keep close ties to them…" Sansa would convince father! She was always so good at political and diplomatic classes. Surely, she could convince Father and Mother to let them see Jon just for a little while longer. "We would like to trade with them too! I've heard many things about how other families and merchants are planning to settle there to negotiate a good deal for gems and metals…"

"Aye, father!" It was Bran who spoke next, holding the edge of father's desk and standing on his tiptoes so he could meet the eldest Stark's gaze. "I would like to see Jon's new home too." Jon's home would always be Winterfell, not some fancy new castle.

"You can't part us so soon, father! How do we even know this Daenerys is not mad like her father and that she will treat Jon well? Maybe she doesn't even like Jon." At her words, everyone turned to stare at her with wide eyes and arched brows. Even little Rickon blinked and frowned at her.

"Arya stupid!" His little hands slapped her cheeks, pressing and forcing her mouth into a pout. "Dany loves Jon."

"Love is a strong word," Robb continued, nodding to his little baby brother. "But it's obvious they are head over heels for each other, Arya."

"Jon's very excited about Queenscrown, too! And Dany is even more than him! He lets her into the negotiations and she's very well liked." Sansa turned her nose upon her, huffing delicately.

"And don't try and be nasty about Dany, Arya." Bran drawled out, crossing his arms and shaking his head at her. "You liked her well enough when she was telling us her stories!"

"Her stories don't define her own person, thank you very much!" She spoke through her forced pout, trying to get away from Rickon's hands.

"Yes, but many of your father's bannermen will remain in Winterfell, and we would like to discuss important things with them." Their mother added, lips twitching as she watched Arya struggle with an incessant Rickon. "For that, we would like our young children to remain home. None but Robb is fit enough for travel, and it's a good opportunity for you to acquaint yourself with our sworn Houses, my son."

Rickon dug his hands into her skin, making her jump a little and scowl at him. She stuck her tongue out and he copied her with a giggle.

"But I know plenty about our sworn Houses!" Robb protested, taking a step forward as he gestured widely with his hands. "Jon has just uncovered great treasure in the North, he is talking with all of these foreigners and all I see as progress! All I see is not only good connections to our House's future but a growth and power that would secure us through wars and Winters!" His speech ended with him gasping for breath, his chest rising and then falling as he let his head fall forward.

"We. Are. Not. Southerners." Their father spelt out slowly, low and gravely. "We are not greedy, and we will not advantage of your brother's fortune to grow rich." Mother pursed her lips, getting up from her position by Father's side to stand behind his chair, lowering her gaze and shutting her mouth like a good and proper wife. Arya hated it; her mother was so much more than a lord's wife.

"That's not what I would do, father! That's not what I see! I will not take advantage of Jon! I will work with him for a better future to both of our houses!" Robb raised his voice, more desperate now as he leaned forward over the desk. "Give me a chance. Let me represent our House in Queenscrown."

Arya finally managed to wrestle Rickon's hands after he lost focus on her, sensing Robb's frustration and looking at him with wide eyes. She fixed her posture, setting her chin high and her back straight like her mother taught her. Bran straightened his stance, crossing his thin arms. In that moment, she had no doubt Sansa was copying her own stance much more effectively. They all stood tall and strong, supporting their brother silently as he faced their father.

Eddard let his eyes roam through their faces, silent and cold as Wolf's Wood that surrounded their home. Sweat started to gather on the back of her neck, her muscles were like thin leaves, fragile and trembling. but yet Arya stood by her brother's side. They stood there for what felt like minutes, one longer than the other.

"I'll think upon it, Robb. But no promises." They all sighed simultaneously. Arya moved her eyes to Rickon's, meeting his wild stare. He lifted his hands and shrugged, showing he didn't know what was happening as he shook his head, and Arya had to bit her lower lip to keep in a high pitched coo. Rickon was just too cute. "Now, go change." He sighed, with a tired smirk on his lips. "We have another feast to attend."

Sansa clapped in delight as Bran groaned. "But we have feasts every day now!" They turned around and started heading out of the solar. Sansa twirling and jumping as she dragged Robb, while Bran slid his feet over the stone and whined. Arya huffed and adjusted her grip on Rickon, turning around.

"Rickon, Arya," Arya pivoted on her feet, dragging a delighted giggle from Rickon. She met her father's dark eyes. "Marriage and love can only happen between a woman and man." His words fell heavily over her head, dragging over skin and stinking of wrongness. Love shouldn't be contained like that, just like a woman shouldn't be contained to fit into a mould like they wanted her to. "Do you understand me?" Arya really did not and, usually, she wouldn't be afraid to tell her father so. But his eyes were very dark and his posture very tense, so she nodded. Rickon stuck his thumb into his mouth and tilted his head, and she nudged him a bit. His eyes met hers and she nodded slowly. Rickon looked back at they father and nodded. "Good." He smiled, maybe relieved. "Now, go ready yourselves."

Arya ran out of there, knowing that everything her father had told her was completely wrong.

•••

Her brother had vanished, again.

Arya was tired of Jon going away with stupid Ramsay or the stupid Princess. What did she even had that made him so…so…so stupid! Daenerys Stormborn had travelled the Nine Free cities, and she had seen pirates and she had gone to King's Landing and lived in the ancient Dragonstone. She also was the single most beautiful being Arya had ever seen, but that counted for nothing really. Arya could bet she was as empty-headed as Sansa! Maybe even worse than Sansa.

She shuddered. Someone worse than Sansa was obviously a terrible person.

Her eyes roamed through the crowds, searching for a familiar a face. Maybe she could find someone to play with. Her usual friends were occupied and the servants had been chastised by Lady Catelyn enough in the past days that none would dare to play with her. A true bother, that's what the Targaryen marriage truly was.

Sansa's tinkling laugh reached her ears one more time through the buzzing crowd and Arya wised more than nothing push a piece of bread down her throat and just make her shut up. Everyone was so perfect, so amazing, so talented; while Arya was just Arya Horseface. A scream was stuck on the back of her throat, ready to be let out and face the world.

Her back dragged on the back of her chair as she slid down in it until only her eyes were visible through the table's edge.

If she disappeared, would someone notice? Would someone care? She was no Sansa, being the pride and glory of House Stark; or Robb, gallant and strong and brave. Would Jon notice her missing? Probably not, he was too busy with his new bride. Oh, she thought dully, attentive eyes accompanying the couple twirling among the other dancers, there he is. Jon had turned out to be quite the dancer after all the feasts they had. Every night he would dance with his Lady Wife, and every night the couple would enchant the Great Hall.

Their grace was obvious in the way their feet moved swiftly, never stepping on each others' toes and always manoeuvring their moving bodies between the guests with flawless footwork. Jon had a strong arm around her waist and held her hand aloft very carefully, and with time he had begun to guide her with the confidence of a…

Arya sneered.

Of a prince, she huffed, crossing her arms petulantly.

"Have your eyes found something unpleasant, my lady?" A sly voice with an accent she had never heard before came from above her. Arya let her head fall back against the back of her chair, finding the hovering face of the pineapple man that had laughed at her the day Lord Bolton had departed.

She straightened herself, uncaring by the man hovering and banging her head against his nose. The man snapped away from her, bending over with his hands holding his nose. There was a faint pain on the top of her head, but it was worth it to see the strange pineapple man in pain.

"You are being a creep." Bored, she sat perfectly straight, her legs crossed and her hands poised on her knees. She tilted her head, like her mother, giving him an unimpressed stare as she eyed him from head to toe. "Don't get any silly ideas, I'll have you hang." Mother had told her that if she ever met a strange guest being too creepy, she should say so.

The golden-haired man gasped in pain, one hand pressing against his nose straightening himself with a huff. He shook his head and looked down at her innocent form. She kept her eyes wide open and a Sansa smile on her lips. The man nodded to her, pulling the chair beside hers and sitting.

Arya turned to the table and got the fork and the knife, putting some cheese on her plate. She stopped, looked at the man and then at the knife in her hand. She exchanged her cutlery so her knife was held by her hand closer to him. The man chuckled.

He put his elbow on the table, supporting his chin in one hand as he watched her eat. "You have balls, I'll give you that." Arya stopped cutting the cheese — never mind that there was no need to cut the cheese — to look at him with scandalized eyes. The man smirked, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Now, don't be coy. I've seen you saying worse things with your peasant friends." Arya would put her blade into his pretty mouth if he dared to tail her to her mother.

"Were you stalking me, my lord?" She asked instead, not showing how scared she really was. "I'll have you hang."

He chuckled breathlessly. "I heard you the first time, zoklītsos." Arya blinked, frowning in confusion.

"What's that? What did you call me?" She turned to him, her cutlery pointed up. "You're a foreigner. How many languages you know?" She tilted her head, lifting her chin. "Daenerys knows more than five." She wasn't sure about that, but the man didn't need to know that. His lips twitched.

"High Valyrian, little one. You are very curious."

"You talk funny. Who are you?"

The man stared at her in silence for various seconds before he barked a loud laugh, clapping his hand as he threw his head back. Arya felt insulted.

"Hey! Don't laugh at me!" She threw her cutlery on her plate and crossed her arms, turning towards him. "You are the weird one here!"

The man shook his head again, looking at her with suspiciously glinting grey eyes. His eyes were really squinty.

"I am a mere province lord." A bitter smirk graced his lips. "Though I aim to become the next great emperor of Yi Ti." His quiet confession, daring and promising blood and war to conquer an entire empire, fell easily through his lips. The other Yi Tish guests went on ignorant of the man's promise. And it was a promise. This man would drag the entire empire into war to obtain what he wanted. The silence dragged heavy between them for a long time, he lost in his own thoughts as Arya's mind whirled trying to figure out what he wanted and what he gained in telling her something so daring. It went on until she couldn't endure it anymore.

"You are bloody mad." And then he laughed, he laughed and laughed and laughed. Arya was definitively weirded out and turned away, leaving him alone with his hysterics.

She directed her gaze back to the dancing crowd, only to found Jon and Dany following Ramsay out of the Hall. Arya looked at the man by the corner of her eye. She saw him cleaning his eyes, shaking his head as chuckles still escaped from his mouth. She pushed her chair away from the table, uncaring by the startled looks directed at her, and bailed out of there.

She twisted through the crowd, sure-footed and quick to avoid attention. It wouldn't do to be caught by someone, especially her mother or Septa.

Arya exited the Great Hall in the same way she had seen the trio go. Stopping for a moment, she looked both ways, sharp eyes coughing the hem of Daenerys' dress disease ring on a turn. She did not wait to follow them, gathering her skirt up and running. She turned on the corner, her slippers making her slid a bit. Yelping, she fell to the ground, hands hitting the stone floor and stopping her from falling face first.

She bit her lip, shoving against the floor and using the momentum to get back on her feet and direct her gaze forward. She could see Ramsay guiding them into the dark corridor, a single candle in his hand as Jon and Daenerys walked briskly behind them. She was in clear view of them.

The darkness hid her as she crouched by the wall, far enough that she knew they couldn't see her in the little, shadowed nook in the stonewall. Daenerys looked back once, quickly and paying no heed to her little form. Smirking, she watched them disappear into another curve. She bolted towards their direction, now sure they were heading out and afraid to be followed.

Jon was awful at being discreet. Arya had spied on him and Ramsay so many times, it was actually funny. Sometimes, she and Bran would joke they just got too distracted by each other and their messy schemings that they simply couldn't tell when they were being listened in.

The chase went on for a short moment, quick and entertaining as it always was. Ramsay many times stopped to speak with a few of his boys. Some of them even noticed her passing by, but those were the ones she had deals with, and they only nodded to her. Between all of their siblings, Arya was the closest to Jon beside Robb, but their bonds were very different. Jon had made clear very soon that Arya should not be harmed, and that he trusted her implicitly. It amused her to no end that his orders backfired on him, making Arya very well known amongst his guards and servants. Rare was the occasion that they stopped her from approaching Jon.

All but one would stop her on games. And that one, the newest member of Jon's guard, was Satin.

As a hand shout out of the darkness to stop her from approaching the trio, — who had finally stopped just on the other turn — Arya growled in annoyance. The grip on her shoulder was tight but gentle as the older boy turned her around to face his form, hidden by shadows and the back signature coat of Ramsay's boys. Satin was the prettiest of Jon's guards and, as Ramsay insisted, of similar appearance to the young lord.

The boy had arrived six moons past, from Gulltown to Queenscrown, searching for a job there. He was chosen to be put into Jon's household by Ramsay, who kept Jon's personal servants of similar appearance to her brother. Robb had once said that it'd help to hide Jon himself in tough situations, especially when they'd gone hiking in the mountains or adventure through the woods of the Gift.

Satin, at first, was very scared and had strange behaviours and customs of the South. Mother had forbidden all of them long ago from ever dealing with Jon's growing band misfits, but she emphasized her order once more after Satin's arrival. It had something to do with his past, and later Arya — listening to other talks around the castle — had learned he had been a whore. She had yet to figure it out what whores did, but it seemed very bad; or good, it really depended on who you asked. Yet, none of that stopped her from before befriending him or threatening him from ever betraying Jon, as she did with every one of his servants.

Even Ramsay, but that wasn't a nice memory at all, it made her stomach sank and her body freeze as if she had taken a cold bath at night. Arya swatted those thoughts away and focused on the boy stopping her from following her brother.

His pretty face smiled down at her with clear exasperation and she responded with a full scowl that did nothing more than bringing a chuckle out of him. "Milord wouldn't like to know you were listening in on him again, Arya."

"Then he should work on his skills. It's far too easy to, why should I stop doing it?" She sighed, crossing her arms and lifting an eyebrow at him. She had a point and she would not back down. "Honestly, I'm doing him a favour."

He chuckled, crossing his own arms and cocking his hip to one side. "A favour, you say?"

"Yes." She nodded sharply, taking a deep breath and holding her own against his shrewd stare. Satin was the most clever of all of Ramsay's boys, and maybe that was the reason he kept him around more often than any others. Satin was not the best with a sword, but his mind more than made up for it. He had often given her tips on how to fight when he was not busy with his many duties. "He needs someone to watch out for him, you know? To keep him on his toes and be sure no one is following him since he obviously can't."

"Arya, you know we allowed you to spy on Jon because he didn't really mind it if you did it, right?" No, because Jon never knew she followed him. Arya rolled her eyes at Satin.

"No, Jon is clueless. He would never know if I jumped on him." Satin smiled again, his delicate features soft as he looked down at her.

"Arya Underfoot can only be noticed if she so wishes…" His words didn't sound so sure and she felt rightfully offended.

"Of course!" She uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on her hips with a snort. "I am the best at what we do." She pursed her lips, her shoulders falling slightly. "I may not be a perfect lady, like Sansa, but I am good at things too, you know that!"

His lips twitched and she just knew he was laughing at her misery. It hurt, but she would admit it to no one, under no circumstances. She wasn't Sansa, crying every time someone said something about her that she didn't like. She would've probably dried up if that happened. So, she just punched him.

Satin bent over in pain — she was Arya Stark and she knew where and how to punch to make it hurt — and she ran around him. She entered the corridor only to find Ramsay, Jon and Daenerys waiting there.

"It's not what we thought, she's been asking Luwin and-" Jon's main manservant stopped talking when Jon, facing her, directed his gaze away from him to fall upon her. Ramsay looked over his shoulder at her, making a double take before he turned around to face her. Daenerys had her back to the stonewall and kept moving her eyes between Arya and Jon.

The whore boy from Gulltown came running and gasping. He stopped behind her with a halt that almost made him fall on top of her small form. "Milord!" The slight shake in his voice made her twitch for a moment, unsure how to proceed. It wasn't usual for her to be so barred from her brother. "Forgive me, I tried to keep her back."

Jon remained silent, his eyes glued to her. Dark and brooding, his grey eyes — she used to think they were silver. Now, she asked herself how she could ever have thought so. — pierced her like daggers. He had never looked at her in such a way. "Arya," He started, his voice low and careful, drawling his Northern accent. "You shouldn't be here."

"How could you not have stopped her, Satin?" Ramsay threw his hands over his head, the corners of his mouth turned down in displeasure.

"I tried, milord. I really did. But…" She heard him take a step forward but Ramsay was already walking around her and taking him away.

"Come, let's talk about your incompetence and let Jon finally deal with this huge breach of security he allowed to fester for fucking years…" His grumbling disappeared behind her, Satin's clumsily steps echoing in the silence as he was dragged forcefully away.

At first, Jon looked like the Jon of her memories. Standing alone, brooding and pretty and watching over her from a distance. But then the frame broke, the memory shifted as Daenerys slowly moved to stand beside him. He did not stand a little bit in front of her or behind her, to protect or to loom over. She did not step back as a dutiful wife or stepped forward like Arya — Because Arya had to stand on the front line. She had to step forward and make them see herbecause otherwise, she would remain forever invisible. — would.

They stood beside each other. Together, united and equal like she wished to be with her brothers. And; even though Jon never took his eyes from her, she could see how synched he was to the tiny older girl by his side. Arya could see the way how he seemed to stand taller, fuller and stronger and better.

It came to her then, what was wrong in the picture. What was wrong with her older brother, the half-brother, the bastard brother that meant more to her than anyone else had ever.

Jon wasn't alone.

He wasn't alone, he wasn't unwanted. He wasn't behind her or hidden or withdrawn somewhere they couldn't see him. Arya didn't have to look around to notice him, didn't have the absolute knowledge that she was the one he could connect best with. It wasn't her standing by his side, supporting him and befriending him and being with him.

She felt a sting down her throat and her eyes were wet. Her mouth trembled slightly when she opened it to speak and she gasped. "Why do you have to go…" She bit her lip, shook her head as hard as she could and closed her eyes even harder. "You belong here…" One tear slipped and she slapped one hand forcefully against her cheek as if it would stop her pain from flowing out. "Thi—Things don't ha-have to chan-change…" A sob came out and she bit harder on her lip. She heard him take one step forward and she shook her head, slicing her hand through the air in front of her. "No! You stay there! You—You will leave! You don't want me anymore! Why…" She blinked at the ground, crying so much her vision was blurred. Her sobs were so strong her whole body shook. Wet and messy and so unnecessary, just like Sansa. "Why couldn't you just…"

"Arya…" She covered her face, shaking her head again and again. She refused to let him see her cry. She refused to let Daenerys see her cry. "Arya, I'm not abandoning you…"

"Yes!" Finally, she stomped her foot down and looked up at him. His eyes were shiny in the dim firelight and he was much closer to her now. She wanted to throw something at his stupid face. "Yes, you are! You are leaving me for her!" And then, she pointed at Daenerys. She kept her arm shoved in her direction. It made something in her scream and rage at how all the other girl did was close her eyes and lower her head. Like she was asking for forgiveness, or as if she felt sorry. "And, and, and what will there be left for me? I'll be alone and who will teach me how to fight?" Something broke and the tears just fell harder. Defeated, her shoulders loosened and her arms fell weakly to her side. "Who will believe in me?" Her brows buckled and she looked down, gulping. "Who will be there for me?" She hugged herself tightly, back bowing and chin tucked inwards. "I wanted you to stay here! Then," She sniffled when he put his hands — large and callused. She knew his nails were short because they were kinda weak and always broke. — on her shoulders. "Then we could be together. I could spy on you and fight with Ramsay and try…" She sobbed, directing her gaze up and meeting his dark and sad eyes. "And try to sneak up on you, and you would let me and then we could go hunt wildlings and go to the mountains meet with the nomads and…"

"Arya…" He shook his head and Arya knew he wanted to cry too. Jon was always such a wuss. He had always been the dramatic one, the melancholic one who would stare into the distance with tears in his eyes.

"Why can't you stay?" Her words were only for them both, charging the air between them as Jon put his hands on her cheeks, caressing her tears away.

"I…" He sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't make me do this, Arya. Don't make this harder than it already is."

It made her furious. How could he say something like that? He just needed to tell her what he wanted. It was simple. Yes, I will stay with you, Arya. Simple answer. He just had to do it. He just had to say it. It was the honourable thing to do. He would keep his word once he said it. She needed him to tell her he would stay.

"It's not difficult…" She pressed her lips into a thin line, her arms going around his waist as she held tightly to his leather jerkin. "All you have to do is stay here, with me, and Robb, and Bran…Stay with us, Jon." She gulped, a small, hopeful frown twisting her features and making a tear roll down his cheek. Jon directed his eyes up, a heavy sigh falling from his quivering lips. "Please."

Jon shook his head, breathing hard. "I can't…" He set his jaw, grinding his teeth together as his hands let go of her face, falling to his sides. He leaned forward, full lips laying a soft kiss on her forehead. "I won't." And he stepped back, never breaking eye contact with her.

"That's not fair…That's not fair!" She stomped her foot again, hands fisting so hard she thought her fingernails would pierce her skin. "You were supposed to stay with us!"

"Arya…" Daenerys finally stepped forward, one hand lifting towards her.

"No! Shut up!" She yelled, tears no longer falling, only a numb kind of sorrow and fury left. "It's all your fault!" She sneered at her, taking one step back away from the pair. "All your fault!" And she turned her back on him. She paid no heed to Jon's anguished calls or to Dany's strangled apologize as she ran from them as fast as she could.

At the very end of the corridor, near the turning edge, leaning against the wall with crossed arms and a smug face, was Ramsay. Arya stopped, looking up at him with wide and hurt eyes. He smirked, cruel and mocking.

"Grow up, Horseface. Things change, don't you know?" She bared her teeth at him, spit at his face and ran to her rooms.

•••

Changing was the scariest thing that could ever happen to her.

They were happy, the Stark siblings, a misfit fit of clashing personalities and colours and origins that somehow just fitted. Even the outsider like Theon and Ramsay, they were all a team. Arya bothered Sansa, Sansa fretted over them all, Bran would climb the roofs above them, Robb lidded them with Jon, Theon and Ramsay were just there being assholes, little Rickon was running wild around them. Mother and Father would always be there for them, guiding and representing and laughing with them. Mother hated Jon, yes, but it didn't make him any less family. Ramsay was like a stray dog that only really liked Jon but the family had to deal with too, but that was beside the point.

Jon wanted to leave.

Why? She kept asking herself, shouting angrily and punching her pillows as she kneeled on her bed. She kept punching and punching, ignoring her scared handmaid as she finally left her room.

What Daenerys had that made her remotely attractive to him, beyond her pretty face? Was it the fact that she travelled around? Arya was sure Father would allow them to make a tour. Was it the fact that she was giving him a castle? Jon could rule Winterfell with Robb! Was it because he had found some gold up in the mountains? He could take care of that while still living in Winterfell!

His marriage was useless! Useless!

You're just jealous because Jon now has someone better than you to love.

She punched the pillow one more time, making it finally give and explode soft feathers in her face. Arya gasped for air, letting her head fall forward until she tucked her chin close to her chest. One tear fell and then another and soon a sob came out.

It didn't take long for her bend over her legs until her forehead was touching the bed. And then, she bawled her eyes out.

The pain was too much. Too much. Jon was leaving and he wanted to go. Arya thought he didn't like the girl. She had thought they were safe, that maybe it could all be cancelled. Maybe Jon would prefer to stay in Winterfell with her. And now? No she couldn't even go with him, and he was going away and that stupid girl was taking him away.

It was just not fair.

A knock on her door made her grit her teeth and shout, "Go away!" A sob came up again and she put her arms over the back of her head, pressing her face against the mattress. The person knocked again. "GO AWAY!"

They ignored her plea and opened the door. She felt the humiliation growing inside and cursed the damned handmaid for not bolting her door. She heard the person closing the door and then slowly approach her bed. The mattress dipped slightly with their weight, and one large hand pressed lightly between her shoulder blades. Arya lashed out, pushing herself up onto her knees and shoving the person's hand away.

Robb's worried face stared at her, inquisitive blue eyes somehow already knowing. Arya gritted her teeth, barring her sobs from spilling out of her.

"What is it?" She hissed, fisting her hands on top of her knees.

"You finally gave in," He spoke, gently and softly as if she was some fragile lady needing coddling.

"I did nothing like that!" She rubbed one arm over her face before facing him again. She dared him to tell her no.

"You did." He nodded, putting one elbow on one knee and supporting his chin on his hand. "You're crying like a baby now."

She threw her busted pillow at him, making even more feather fall prettily around them. She crawled towards him and started banging her fists on him.

"I'm not!" He straightened, making her fall to his lad as he held her wrists. "I'm NOT!" She thrashed against him. He brought her close and hugged her tightly. "I'm not…" She sagged, gasping for air and trembling all over. Robb nuzzled her hair, hugging her close.

"It's alright, Arya." His breath hitched and his words faltered. He hugged her close and tightly. Arya put her arms around him too. She held him as tight as she could. "It's alright to be sad, little wolf." She turned her face into his neck, pulling her legs so she could straddle him. "I'll miss him too, you know?" Arya wept, fingernails digging into his clothes the same way Robb did to hers. "But you know our Jon," He chuckled wetly, taking a deep breath. "He's all about duty." Robb pulled away from her and she looked up at his sad eyes. "He won't abandon the people of Queenscrown."

"But…Daenerys…" Robb shook his head, closing his eyes and chuckling again.

"You'll understand one day, Arya."

"But I wanna understand it now." She protested, crossing her arms.

Robb smirked at her, nodding distractedly. "Don't be so harsh on them, Arya." He nudged her. "You'll make them cry."

She grumbled, scowling. "But they made me cry first." She squinted her eyes at him. "I can even see how you wanna cry too."

"Now you're pushing it." He shook his head, a smirk on his lips.

"No," She sniffled, smiling up at him. "Am not." Robb smiled back at her before his arms circled her and he shot to his feet. Arya squealed with delight as he twirled her around before putting her on her bed.

"Now," He smirked down at her. "I think it's beyond time someone gets some sleep!" And he tickled her. Arya squeaked and laughed, begging him to stop as his laughter joined hers.

"Stop, Robb!" She was breathless by the time he stopped, falling beside her on the bed with a huff. She turned towards him, tucking her hands under her chin. "Tell me a story."

He grinned at her. "Visenya?" Arya crinkled her nose and shook her head.

"No Targaryens." Robb looked at her with soft eyes, one hand tucking her hair behind her ear.

"She's a nice girl, Arya," Robb's eyes glazed over. "Jon's lucky to marry her."

Arya looked away from him, feeling a pang of guilt that she was quick to swat away. "Still, no Targaryens. At least today?"

Her brother sighed but nodded. "Princess Nymeria then?"

Her grin was matched by her brother, and he tucked her close to his heart before starting his tale.

Arya slept with a smile on her lips and dreamed of being a wolf, running free through the summer fields of the North with her pack.

•••

Arms resting on the wood parapet of the walkway overlooking the courtyard, Arya watched with dull eyes as her brothers sparred against each other. The clash of their wood swords lulled her into a false sense of peace and security. That morning, the sky was greyish and the servants were bustling with activities.

Arya had heard that the multiple guests had each brought goods to the marriage. Both for House Stark and House Targaryen, as they would host their retinues for a long while. In between their rustle and bustle were Robb and Bran.

Their older brother was teaching him how to fight with sword an shield, and already, Arya could point out the wrong things in his stance. His feet were too far apart and his arms were weak and messy. His strikes were harmless and his hold on the sword far too awkward for proper balance. He threw the wooden sword around aimlessly, uncaring by the blade itself and its tip, only hoping for it to hit his adversary.

I could do much better, Arya thought while watching Robb slamming his sword against Bran's shield multiple times before piercing low at the metal, making the smaller boy fall to the ground. Robb laughed and Theon barked out a jest. Ser Rodrik glared at them both, making Robb scramble to help Bran up. It made a small smile appear on her lips despite the detached way she felt that day.

Robb messed with Bran's hair the same way he did with hers the previous day, adjusting his shield and stepping back, positioning himself to receive Bran's oncoming attack when they were interrupted.

Jon rode fast into the courtyard, accompanied by his band of misfits and a few other Lords that had gone out early with him to ride. He made his horse circle his brother with impeccable control and grace, a huge smirk on his lips.

"Snow!" Robb shouted to him, following Jon's path with a broad grin. "Stop showing off!"

"Jon!" Bran laughed, running to their bastard brother when he finally stopped with an effortless manoeuvre. Jon jumped from his horse and crouched low to hug Bran close.

"How is your training going, Bran?" She heard him ask, a breathless tone to his voice. Arya felt her numbness slowly fade away, the more she heard his voice. Wasn't he sad? Wasn't he affected by what she said and did the previous night? "Are you keeping your shield up?" The teasing question was one of his — and Father's — most important lessons. Otherwise, your head will ring like a bell.

She wanted to ring his head until he couldn't walk anymore or his face wasn't as pretty as the princess undoubtedly preferred. That way, maybe, the idiot would stay home, where he belonged.

But would he even want it? She frowned at the back of his pretty head as he walked forward with Bran to meet up with Robb. Satin appeared from somewhere and took his black horse away along with Ramsay's grey one. The older bastard went to Theon, who bailed considerably as the Snow swaggered towards him with a smirk.

"No, Bran still needs to understand the importance of his shield." Robb drawled out, grasping at his brother's forearm and hugging him with that manly weird handshake-hug-pat on the back Arya didn't really get.

"I know it! It's to stop the sword from hurting me, right Jon?"

The brothers laughed at the younger one and Arya felt all the angrier. Stupid Bran. A shield could do many things in battle! She would get down and get a shield herself and hurl it at him so they could properly see how she could do so much better than Bran.

"Why so angry, my lady?"

She squeaked, jumping back and striking a fighting stance with her arms raised and her feet far apart. Her opponent ended up being the old man that always accompanied Lord Stannis Baratheon. She remembered sitting with him and his wife on the first feast. Ser Davos was his name, called the Onion Knight he had missing fingers and a funny bald head. He was fun to talk with too; his wife often mocked him and put him in his place. Arya liked Lady Maria a lot.

"What do you want?" She spat out, crossing her arms and turning back to face the courtyard. Robb and Jon were now showing Bran the right movements as Ramsay and Theon watch on. She saw Lord Renly beside a pretty young man in armour and other nameless lords that had accompanied Jon.

"To go back home, to have my children all remaining at the same age as you," He pointed one finger ta her. She moved her eyes away from him, keeping them focused on Jon's movements. "Peace, good food, to sail again."

"You want many things." She murmured to him.

"Yes, I do," She heard his sigh, tired and worn. They stood together there, looking at the group of men and boys as they sparred together. Jon's prodigious skills were evident, and Arya was proud to see her brother thrive and show those stuck-up assholes what a bastard lord like him could do.

Of course, as soon as she remembered that he was now a lord and would leave them seemingly willingly, she immediately scowled and looked away. She wanted to throw a rock at his stupid pretty hair.

"He seems like a fine lad," Ser Davos, resting his arms on the half-wall and leaning on them.

"Who?"

"Your brother," He was an alright brother until he betrayed her for a pretty and useless princess who travelled the world for pretty dresses. "The bastard one."

She turned sharply toward him and punched his shoulder. "He is my oldest brother!" Arya wouldn't let anyone belittle Jon because they didn't share mothers. She lifted her chin and sneered at him like mother sneered at Ramsay. "He is the oldest, older than even Robb by months! You will not call him anything but my brother."

"Oh," Ser Davos gasped, blinking surprised and tilting his head at her. "Is that so?"

"Yes!" Her lip quivered for a moment, but she punched her fist against the parapet, hoping the pain would chase away the sorrow and tears and silliness. "and he is leaving home because of your princess," She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved one finger in his face. "So don't you dare treat him as just a fine lad."

"Ah, I see," He smiled at her, one hand slowly gripping her finger and lowering it. He then clasped his hands behind his back and nodded towards Jon. "You care about him a great deal, don't you, Lady Arya?"

The title made her want to push him down the walkway, but his words brought a faint sting to her eyes. "Don't call me that," She whispered to him, sniffling and turning back so she could look down at Jon. He was laughing with Lord Renly and Robb as they watched Ramsay and Theon spar. She snorted, rolling her eyes and lifting one hand to sweep away the wetness in the corner of her eyes. "And I think that's obvious."

"You aren't wrong," They watched the boys fight, Ramsay quick with his sword always a finger away from Theon's leather armour. Ramsay would win brutally, as he always did. "Was it him who taught you how to punch?" Arya blinked up at him. He shrugged his shoulder up. "It's still hurting a bit, you did a good job."

She pursed her lips and nodded at him in thanks. "Aye…" She gulped, sadness filling her as she liked down at him. He wouldn't be with her for much more time so she could learn more and prove to him she could be as good as any boy. "Jon taught me how to fight," She narrowed her eyes at him and silently dared him to defy her. His lips were drawn in a pensive pout as he stared down at Jon.

"Then he and Lady Daenerys will fit right in," She started away from him, a confused frown on her face. "Well, they seemed cosy enough before…" She saw him shuddering but ignored it.

"What do you mean? Daenerys likes to watch fights?" He chuckled, shaking his head and straightening.

"Oh no, in no way. My lady is too enamoured with peace for that," As she had thought; Daenerys was a wuss. Arya wondered how she could be related to someone like Visenya Targaryen. "But, a secret between us," He leaned closer to her, eyes twinkling as he winked at her. "My lady does love to put her sword to use." And he leaned away and bowed to her, walking down the walkway towards the armoury without looking back.

Arya stood there and blinked, and blinked a bit more. A sword? A sword that belonged to Daenerys?

She squinted her eyes towards the opposite direction from where Ser Davos had gone. Down the walkway was the closest path to the Main Keep. She looked down at Jon when she heard his voice. People were pushing him towards Ramsay, who stood as the winner of his fight. The called his name and his guard opened his arms to him, his training sword in hand. Theon passed by him and shoved his training sword in Jon's direction.

Her eyes moved towards the way to the Main Keep. Scowling furiously and cursing her curiosity, Arya stomped her way down, knowing exactly who she wanted to speak with.

•••

The red door seemed to mock her, and she wanted to set fire to it. She remembered Jon's stupid attempt at painting it himself, to make the princess more comfortable. He had been paired red from head to toe, it was all very macabre and Sansa had screamed in fright. The end work was shit too, so Arya didn't understand why he did even bother. A bunch of bullshit, of course, he just wanted to be silly.

Why would a red door ever maker her happier?

Shaking her head, she slapped her cheeks lightly before taking a deep breath. She put her hand on the door handle and pushed with all her strength.

Inside, she first saw the blond handmaiden sitting on the bed's edge, closer to the door. Arya's eyes immediately moved to the young girl sitting by her side. Daenerys was with a simple white dress with a square neckline and tight around her burst, flowing down like silk. The sleeves were long tight around her arms. She was also shoving an entire fruit down her throat and hollowing her cheeks around it.

The three of them froze in their places, and Daenerys looked at her with wide violet eyes the colour of lavender. She had both hands holding delicately at the base of the fruit — It was a banana, she had tasted the sweet fruit a few days prior. She had not eaten the way the princess seemed to prefer, though. Arya didn't see anything practical about it. — and her full lips completely around it. She seemed like she was sucking on it.

Arya started to regret ever coming close to the weird girl.

The blond handmaiden stood up quickly with a "My lady!" while Daenerys let go of the fruit and spit it out. The fruit exited her mouth like an arrow as she shot to her feet and raised her hands like she was surrendering herself.

"Arya!" She squeaked out. Her face was redder than her door or the sigil of her house. She was breathing harshly out and kept moving her hands around. She decided to enter the room and closed the door behind her without taking her eyes away from the suspicious duo. "What-What are you doing here?" Her eyes quickly looked at the door and then moved to the handmaiden with clear desperation. So, they forgot to lock the door and were caught doing…something with a fruit. Arya pitied Jon. His wife had, clearly, the Targaryen madness.

She decided to cut the crap and get what she came to get. "I heard you know how to use a sword."

That brought the princess to a stop. She frowned, tilted her head and fell back on the bed, unusually gracelessly. Arya crossed her arms and cocked her head to the left, narrowing her eyes at her and waiting for a response that wasn't fumblingly embarrassment.

"Sword?" She asked, squinting at her for a moment before moving her eyes to her handmaiden. The older woman shrugged, a helpless look that Arya recognized from Robb and Father' own faces when dealing with her and Sansa. Daenerys straightened before meeting Arya's grey orbs again, clasping her hands dotingly on her lap. Arya started to doubt Ser Davos' words. "You have heard right, I'd guess. But…" She stopped, her mouth hanging open for a few moments, brows creased and lips quivering before she spoke once more. "Last night…"

"There's nothing about last night." Arya hissed, hackles raised. "Imma not gonna answer to anything from you."

Daenerys' face softened, her brows turned down, expressively and bold in showing her apparent emotions. She nodded, disheartened in such a way it made Arya uncomfortable. The same way Sansa did when she genuinely started to cry about something Arya did to her, instead of fighting with her.

"I…" She faltered, questioning herself for a single moment. Daenerys did not look like a villainous princess stealing her brother away. Her face last night…She seemed devastated, Arya remembered. She seemed then, she seemed tiny now. Arya had heard the awed stories about this girl, about how she had defied convention the night of her marriage by welcoming and freeing three slaves. The hushed whispers of reverence between the servants and the hopeful talks about the visiting merchants and small folk from Winter Town and beyond. Daenerys did not look like the figure beyond real life, strong and cunning and undaunted, that her guests seemed to admire after a brief discussion with her and Jon. "I came here to offer a deal." It was time for Arya to judge her the only way she could.

"A deal?" She answered back in a whisper, curiosity shining in her ethereal eyes. She truly was pretty, prettier than anyone Arya had ever seen. It was kinda disgusting.

"Yes," She nodded. Taking a deep breath, Arya closed her eyes and remembered her mother's lessons. Straighten your posture, lift your chin, clasp your hands in front of you and stare down anyone you deem your enemy. You are a Stark, and Winter is Coming. "I want to fight with you." The sentence brought a blank look from Daenerys that irritated her and only made her stare harder at her. "For Jon's honour, if I win, Jon stays." A very simple deal.

Daenerys' mouth hung open again. She moved her eyes to her handmaiden, but Arya persevered and kept her eyes glued to the princess.

"I cannot fight you, Arya," The princess rejected her and her shoulders fell in disappointment. What?! Daenerys stood up from her bed, a fire in her eyes as she looked down at the she-wolf. "I will not dare to raise my sword against my husband's sister!"

Arya Stark stood speechless. The meek empty-headed princess was standing before her with her shoulders set and a face she had only seen her father wear. Daenerys, in her simple white dress — so different from the beautiful flowing blue velvet dress she had used as of late, or her other elaborated pieces — looked more regal and powerful than she ever did. As the Targaryen Lady stared down at her, furious and outraged and unwavering in her decision, Arya thought back to the legend of dragon lords and Valyrian people. Of blood that was red and made of pure fire and uncontrollable rage that was nothing to the Fury of House Baratheon. At that moment, Arya caught a glimpse of the Great House of the Three-Headed Dragon. At that moment, Arya thought that maybe she could understand how Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms.

At that moment, Arya knew exactly what to do.

If she won't fight her… "Then fight Jon." She stood her ground and crossed her arms. Daenerys blinked, taken aback. Arya smirked. "I want to see you fight." She set her jaw, forcing the words out. "Show me that you are…" Daenerys took a step closer to her, eyes so earnest Arya felt breathless. "That you are more." She felt those fucking tears that'd been building inside her since the previous night come back again, but she refused to let them fall again. "Show me that I'm wrong." Show me you can be good. Show me that Jon isn't just… isn't just leaving for an empty castle and a hollow life.

Please, be worthy of my brother. She thought, feeling light and weightless and just… He deserves it. Jon deserves to be happy.

Daenerys and Arya remained there for what felt like years. She never turned away from those piercing violet orbs that dissected every aspect of what made Arya, Arya. She felt judged and studied and appreciated. She felt like she was being heard. She felt like she was being seen.

"Very well," She finally nodded, slowly but surely. Daenerys turned to her handmaiden. "Doreah, fetch me my boots and some breeches to go under this dress." She turned around, suddenly full of movement as the blonde woman, Doreah, was quick to conclude her orders.

"What…what are you doing?" Arya shook her head, following her as she approached the hearth.

"I am preparing myself to fight with my husband…" Doreah held out a white bundle of clothing to Daenerys, and she gripped it and crouched down to put on the breeches. "For my good sister's approval, and, apparently, his honour." Doreah gathered the flowy white skirts — so different from her usual heavy dresses — and held them close to her lady's waist as she laced her tight pants. "A most interesting situation, but…" The handmaiden let the skirt fall around her legs once more as Daenerys looked at Arya with a small smile. "If it is the price to make your mind at ease, I shall comply with your request."

She sat in an armchair and begun to put on her high boots while Arya stared at her in faint shock.

"You mean—You'll do it now?!"

"Yes!" Her boots were quickly laced and then she jumped from her armchair, somehow completely energized. "Jon must have returned from his riding trip, am I right?" She turned around, pointing at a red chest. "Doreah, fetch me my training sword."

"Y-Yes…" Arya was completely shocked by her easy compliance and eagerness to proceed in a duel. Ser Davos hadn't said she enjoyed peace?

"Then he must be in the courtyard, sparring." She nodded to Arya, gathering two parts of her hair on both sides of her head and pulling them back. Doreah came back with a simple sword in a black leather scabbard in her hands, putting it on the armchair so she could secure the Lady's pale hair with little pins and leather cords. When ready, Daenerys clapped her hands and took her sword. "Let's meet the boys."

"Wait…" But Daenerys ignored her and just went to the door, stopping for a moment to stare at it with reverence — honestly, it looked crappy. Arya was confused by the Targaryen in a way she had never been before. — before she opened and it and exiting her rooms.

Doreah and Arya stood there in silence, staring at the door the Lady had just disappeared into. Arya turned around to look at the blank-faced woman, who just lifted an eyebrow at her before nodding towards the door.

"Hey! Daenerys! Wait, Daenerys! Dany, wait for me!"

•••

Daenerys walked like a woman on a mission. Her strides were wide and her dress billowed behind her dramatically. Her hair was full of movement and everything about her was very vibrant despite her washed out physical colours. She was completely in white, but as they walked by guests and guards and servants, Arya felt as if she was a rainbow bringing colour and life everywhere she passed. Anyone could see the energy boiling just beneath her moonlit skin.

People stopped to look at her, to really look at her. They admired her in a way that was otherworldly, and through it all Daenerys remained unbothered. It was just like when she had first lowered her hood, the first day when she had just arrived and they were introducing themselves. The whole castle had held its breath at the vision of her, so obviously different from everything and anything they had ever had contact with. Her appearance opened old wounds and enchanted them all over again.

And now, so intense and brilliant and bold as she marched through the castle towards the courtyard, with no hesitance and no fear, Arya could once again understand why the name Targaryen held so much weight in their world.

The single-minded resolution Daenerys displayed was the kind that made entire civilizations bend their knees and fall prettily behind her lines. It was the kind of thing that inspired and brought changes. At that moment, Arya felt like Daenerys could change the world.

Despite herself, Arya was already kind of rooting for her brother's wife. She was just too confident to ever think otherwise.

Which was absolutely silly, she had just made a bet that if Jon won, he'd stay.

"Why are you so intent on doing this?" She gasped out, doing her best to keep her pace matching the older girl's. "What's in it for you? It's an arranged marriage."

She could see the courtyard already. Jon's quick movements as he parried his sword against Theon's were completely calculated and deadly. Daenerys still did not answer her, heading out of the shade provided by the castle and out in the early morning light. Mud quickly stained the hem of her dress as she stopped just shy out of the loose circle the man had made around the fighters.

Arya slammed into her side, her head barely going beyond the girl's waist as she held tightly to her. She looked up at Daenerys, expecting her to be looking at her, but the princess' eyes were directed solely to one person.

Daenerys took a deep breath, and then, "JON!"

Arya gaped at her as Jon stopped his continuous attacks on Theon, his sword sliding against Theon's until the hilt. As his the dull blade hit the guard, he twisted his wrists just a little bit, putting enough force behind his move to make Theon's sword fly from his grip. Jon tossed his hair back, straightening and turning to face them. One of his hands rose to push his hair away from his face as he tilted his head.

"My lady?"

"Fuck!" Theon banged his shield on the ground, other hand reaching for his fallen blade.

Jon sneered at him. "Watch your language. Arya's here." Now it was time for her to look at Jon with raised eyebrows. Really, brother?

"Oh please, spare us from that. Arya knows more profanities than all of us combined." The crowd around them laughed nervously. Arya only felt bothered because she knew it wasn't actually the truth. Yet. "Now, what does your little lady wants now?" He chuckled, lucking her up and down. His eyes widened when he finally noticed the sword in her hands. "Well, it seems it's not your sword she came for, Snow."

Arya did not understand, but there were plenty of shocked gasps around them and Jon looked ready to murder the Greyjoy. Ramsay was already looming a few paces behind Theon, no doubt ready to slice the hostage's throat and damn the consequences. If it was so insulting, and Jon's name was involved, Arya decided to take it as a slight. She glared at Theon and took a step forward, mouth opening and ready to fire as many of his dirty little secrets — Theon did a lot of things in Winter Town, and people liked to talk — and as many insults as she could muster. Daenerys stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before she started walking towards Theon.

"Forgive me, I don't recall your name." Arya suspected it was a lie. Daenerys hadn't forgotten even the servants' names. She always greeted everyone by their name or title. The people gathered around them thought the same too, because they all chuckled. Theon narrowed his eyes at her, shifting uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to answer when she stopped close to him. She did not let him speak. "But I didn't come here to speak with you." And she twisted sharply to face Jon, turning her back on Theon. Robb barked out a laugh that made Theon blush from the tip of his hair to his very toes. Arya grinned at him and crossed her arms, nodding in approval. "At the request of my good-sister and the apparent protector of your virtue, husband," Before she even finished, Jon was already turning his head to look at Arya, deadpan fully pointed at her.

She felt fully offended by his deduction. Not everything that happened in their family was her fault.

"I am here to fight with you, for the honour of being your wife." His gaze snapped back to his wife, wide-eyed and incredulous. Arya could see the smile Daenerys was giving her most to contain. "In the name of Lady Arya of House Stark," She wished the ground would swallow her whole. Arya could just feel the judging stares upon her back. She contained herself from baring her teeth and telling them to look away. She had asked for this, she would see it through. "I am here to prove my worth to you as a wife, winning your favour through battle."

The couple exchanged long looks, uncaring for the whispering crowd and doubtful eyes around them. Jon had a deep crease between his brows, his lips pressed into a thin line. Daenerys kept her confident poise, arms relaxed and hair moving lazily in the gentle breeze. He moved his eyes down to her sword.

"Is that…?" He asked, pointing at the sword.

Daenerys looked at it and back him, chuckling and shaking her head as she took the bade from its scabbard. "Of course not, Jon!" She bit her lip, showing the blade to him and giving the scabbard to Ramsay. It was thinner than a usual sword, doubled edged with a simple cross guard. "That'd be hardly fair." She chuckled, looking back towards Arya and winking at her. "Do you accept my challenge?"

"Oh," He finally smiled at her, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Is it a challenge, then?"

Daenerys nodded, stepping back and putting arm crossed on her lower back. She dragged her feet apart and twirled her sword, pointing it at him. "Of course." Her movements were smooth, and the blade almost seemed to glide through the air. "Then, what does my lord say?"

Though it was she who asked for Daenerys to fight, Arya was wonderstruck. To her grip on the sword's handle to the way she had moved into her fighting stance screamed competence and skill. Even in a dress, she moved with complete awareness of her body, no doubt or question about what to do or how to move.

Daenerys knew what she was doing.

So distracted by the Lady's movement, Arya only noticed Theon's form looming over the older girl's after he spoke.

"You think a little sword like this will be effective?" He drawled out. Daenerys moved away from, pivoting and facing him as she took a step back closer to Jon. "And what kind of fighting stance was that?" He mimicked her, putting his arm strapped with a circular shield over his stomach and slashing his sword upwards, pointing it at her. An idiot, Theon has always been an idiot and it seemed that part of him knew worse manners than even Arya. "Women have no place in battle," He cooed at her, letting his sword arm fall and smirking. "So stop your pretty dancing and let us spar for real," some of the men around them raised their voice accordance, making Theon's eyes shone as he turned to the crowd, arms open high. "Let's show the lady a real fight, boys!" The stupid lords cheered louder and Arya glared at all of them, she saw Robb with his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips as he shook his head.

Arya ran across and stomped on his foot. Robb yelped and moved away from her. "Arya, gods, why did you do that?"

She sneered at him and pointed at Theon, who was glowing by the attention he received. "Stop him!"

Robb opened his mouth but was interrupted by Theon again. "So," He smiled arrogantly at the pair. Jon was glaring daggers at the Greyjoy. Daenerys looked down at him with a regal and detached expression, chin lifted and eyes narrowed. "Why don't you let me show you some real sword work." He grinned wolfishly, and Robb face palmed beside her. His heavy sigh was telling of what he thought of his best friend. Theon should just die already! Arya thought, growling in frustration. She didn't understand the insult, but she was sure it was an insult.

Jon took a step forward, face dark and dangerous as he vibrated with a murderous rage Arya had only seen once. For a moment, her eyes strayed to Ramsay, make her shudder before she turned her eyes back to the Targaryens. Daenerys hadn't let Jon do whatever he wanted, beating him to it by stepping forward towards Theon. Jon watched her like a falcon while Theon bit his lip, smirking like crazy.

The dragon girl smiled serenely at the Greyjoy, leaving her sword arm low and strident towards him slowly, moving her lips and tilting her head. "You are making mistakes, my lord." Theon grinned wider.

"Mistakes?" He asked, eyes wide and dark. The light hit against Daenerys' sword, different from the dark and old blades they had for training. It reflected on her dress and the ground, her light skirt flowed around her, loose from the underside of her breasts till her booted toes. Her hair moved hypnotically, gold and silver and made of stars and moon and the sun itself. Theon watched her with hunger.

"Yes," She smiled, still walking slow, but her arms tensed just so. Her shoulders setting firmly and Arya could see the sword in her hand arching up inch by inch. "First," And then she moved.

On her next step, Daenerys bent her knee, leaning forward and bending her sword arm back, pointing the sword at Theon. In a blink of an eye, she had thrust herself forward, running at him so fast Theon barely had time to raise his shield. The tip of her sword hit the metal piece with a bang and Theon cried in alarm as the force of her blow pushed him back. But the girl didn't stop there.

She corrected her grip on the handle and sliced the sword up, stepping further close to the older boy. Daenerys brought the sword down with the pommel hitting him square on the jaw. As he was tilted sideways to the ground, she still was quick enough to kick him back, sending him to the ground.

"You were not paying attention." She spoke slowly, voice sweet and lofty as she looked down at him. Theon was breathing hard, wide-eyed and spitting blood as he looked up at her. He had been thrown on his back and seemed to be too shocked to properly react. She smiled. "Two," And she stepped towards him again, slicing her sword in front of her as if to rid it from the blood. Theon crawled back, panting loudly with his eyes never straying from her form.

Theon scrambled back to his feet and barely managed to lift his sword to block her attack. They parried and he tried to use his force and shield to push her away. And then Daenerys danced around him. She pivoted, delicate and quick as she moved around his body until she was at his back. She sliced him, the dull blade moving heavily against his leather armour and making him stumble forward.

Theon was angry now, heaving and getting his teeth as he turned to face her again. "What was that? You're using some kind of dance?" He pointed his sword at her, blood spilling from his mouth. "Don't know how real fighting works, girly?" He spat at her. But on the next moment, he was screaming as she brought her sword down on him. He tried blocking with his shield, clumsily. She kicked him again, making him stable back.

"Two," She repeated, short of breath but in a different way from Theon. She seemed exhilarated. "You seem to think I take it as an insult when you call me by what I am," Her serene facet finally fell and she sneered at him, snarling back and snapping her teeth at him. "I do not." And marched towards him with long strides, lifting her swords and striking at him. Theon met her strike for strike now, moving more skillfully now.

Theon was too slow, yes, but he had more physical strength.

Their swords met, fighting for dominance. They remained like that, forcing the dulled blades against together. Finally, Theon was gaining ground on her. He kept pushing her back more and more, her grip faltering when met with his superior strength. Daenerys started to lean back. Theon grinned at her, maniac and bloodthirsty.

Arya looked at them with wide eyes and her breath stuck to the back of her throat. She felt as if she would explode at any given moment.

At last, Theon managed to make her fall to one knee. Daenerys held her ground even when facing her apparent defeat, crying out loud with the effort to stop him.

"He has her on her knees!" Arya grabbed Robb's clothes. "He'll kick her! Just like she did!" She shook his arm, not taking her eyes away from the stagnant fight.

"No…"

"What?" She stared up at him. Robb was staring at them — no, at Daenerys — with awed blue eyes as bright as the cloudless summer sky.

"Theon wants her on her knees, Arya. And that will be his defeat," He smirked. "Look who really has the high ground. Look."

And she did. She turned her eyes to them, forcing herself to find the same source of hope that made her own brother so sure the other girl would win. She now held her sword with two hands, holding Theon's blade from striking her shoulder as she positioned her feet slightly turned. Theon practically loomed over her form. And then, Arya saw it.

Theon brought his sword closer and was already cackling with victorious glee. "Who's laughing now?!" Daenerys glared up at him and bared her teeth in a hellish smile.

"Three," She grunted, almost shouted, and shoved her sword sideways. The blades created sparks as the metals glided against each other. The guard hit the other's blade and pushed it away from her flesh. Theon fell forward, sword stabbing into the mud as Daenerys pivoted on one knee. As the boy put a leg forward to try stopping his fall, Daenerys shoved her own knee into his gut. Theon made a strangled sound. "I am Daenerys Stormborn." She kneed him again and shoved him away. He fell sideways to the ground.

She threw her hair back, her white dress glued to her form because of her sweat. Her skirts and hem were ruined by mud and even a bit of blood. Strands of silver-gold hair were sticking to her face and neck and chest. Her panting made her breasts push against her neckline, straining upwards. Daenerys stared down at Theon Greyjoy with utter disgust as he stumbled back to his feet.

Her free hand rose to push back the strands of hair glued to her face. "I am Lady of House Targaryen, Lady of the Gift and Lady of Queenscrown." She let the hand fall limply beside her. She then started walking towards the hyperventilating Iron Born. "And you underestimated me." She brought her arm back and punched him squarely on his jaw.

All was silent as Theon fell to his back on the mud, wheezing and spitting blood and drool. Utterly spent with various odd dents in his leather armour. Daenerys stood over him, holding her head high as she turned her head back to her husband. Her hair was a sweaty mess and her full lips were hanging open with a lazy smirk as she stared at him with hooded eyes. Her small stature did nothing to mask how utterly wrong Arya had been all this time.

Daenerys of House Targaryen, wife to Jon Snow of House Targaryen, was no mere princess.

She was a queen.

Arya broke the dead silence with whoops and claps. "YOU GO DANY!" She punched the air in front of her. "Take that, Theon! YEAH!" A few of the men amongst the crowd started to scream in joy, whooping and clapping with her. Robb laughed and clapped loudly as Jon ran to his wife, hugging her close and twirling her around. Theon punched the ground and rolled away in the mud when Ramsay crouched next to him, a big and perturbing grin on his lips.

Jon put Dany on the ground and stepped away from her. He had no smile on his face, only a really weird and dark look that Arya found weird. She just shoved the thought away and put in the little new corner in her mind that she would leave reserved as 'House Targaryen's eccentricities'.

Daenerys bit her lip and stepped away from her husband, one arm crossing behind her as she brought her sword up. She then spoke loudly enough to make the crowd pay attention once more. "I guess we may proceed with my request, then?" She lifted one eyebrow, nodding towards Arya and waking at her briefly before meeting Jon's gaze again. "I wish to gain your favour, my lord."

Jon's lips twitched before he nodded towards Ramsay, who went to fetch him a dulled training sword. "I'm almost certain that this is not the conventional way to gain a lord's favour." Ramsay went back with the sword and throwing to Jon. Her brother caught it with nought a look and it made her proud. Seven hells, her brother was cool.

"I am not a conventional lady," Daenerys rebuffed, cool mask back in place as she crouched slightly. She manoeuvred her sword gracefully, slicing the air and extending her sword arm in front of her, low with the tip at the same height as her breasts.

"Thank the gods for that, my lady," Jon threw his scabbard on the ground, two hands holding tightly the sword handle as he entered his fighting stance. Sword low and held in front of him, tip high and feet far apart.

Daenerys tilted her head and smirked. "I believe in no gods, my lord," Arya could just feel the choked gasps around them. She wanted to cackle and applaud. "I am what I am by my own merit." And then, they ran towards the other, swords clashing with sparks flying.

Arya Stark decided that Daenerys Targaryen was everything she ever wanted to be.

•••

A/N: This chapter was first dedicated to one of my greatest friends, magicmoon111, and I do it once more. She won the 2017 Jonerys Fanfiction Awards for Best Canon Divergent. Check out her work at ao3! Her Life and Her Death is one of the best long-fics around, and it's inspired by CoB! I'll put the summery so you can have a taste ;)

Swayed by the powerful words of a dying queen, Stannis Baratheon takes in baby Daenerys Targaryen as his ward. In the North, Eddard Stark is ordered to raise Jon Snow to wed and dishonor the Targaryen princess, by bringing bastard blood into her line, and ending the Dragons forever.

Across the continent, and across the Narrow Sea, the wheel continues to turn, and the Great Game commences. Thus begins a series of events that would change the fate of Westeros forever.

She's currently in her 40th chapter, so you will have a great journey!

Blinded in a bolthole, thank you very much! I love Ramsay's character and he was one of the more important factors in pushing along this story. Also, many thanks to Rak Ewo, who doesn't say much but still says something in every chapter. Yes, Madara123, they will have a spy network kind of battle? I don't know lol. GODOFWAR129, I'm being slow, but if you guys want to see more in ao3, I won't stop you. I just feel like taking my time. Dzerx, don't I know it? Thank you to all of the guests who reviewed, and to one in particular who mentioned my attempt to still develop Jon and Dany's relationship through other POVs. Unfortunately, I will use other POVs as much as I use Dany and Jon's. Thanks to lucavento, timijaf, BioHazard82, obliviandragon and anja. quickert. 9. To AlmightySpartan, the direwolves will appear in the Third Act, but we are still years away from Jon Arryn's death. Maybe in the far future, Jon shall have his Valyrian sword, DylanTheDemon. islamy96, most of the males I know love fashion as much as I do and shopping even more so, hahaha. Arkansas Sweetheart, yeah, it's a modern view and I don't agree with her views too but, to Cat, Ned bringing Jon to her home was a great insult, and for remaining bitter over it made for quite the toxic relationship. As for her telling someone, or ending up dead...let's see. Knighthunter911700, about Jon having more of his powers, well that will depend on what he will face, I guess. Why would he ever need to stand in fire and survived it, I wonder. :D

Now I leave you with this chapter's notes. See you next time!

Y'all. So. That happened. Is that a cliffhanger? Dunno really. Do we see that fight's consequence reverberating throughout the entire story? Maybe so. Are the cuteness and family drama and love vibes overload? Hell yeah. Is this chapter a lot to take in? lol, you tell me.

First, should I be saying sorry for that fighting scene? The duel thingy is something I am REALLY nervous about. Like you have no idea. This is my second fighting scene and the only real one without something magical involved. Please tell me your thoughts about it! As it's a duel, I could really focus on the details, but I dunno if it made for a boring and tiring scene. The dialogue of it made me need to put some heavy detail to what was happening but I don't if it ended up too bad? I'm really nervous you guys.

Now, about Ned's words. That's something that hurt me to write and I hate to do it, but Ned's a conservative dude from a medieval era world. He was warning his kids about the only thing that was accepted by the society, and Arya, as always, didn't really agree.

Arya is SO young. She's just a little kid and everything is just going so fast and her big bro is leaving and there's this girl who's stealing him from her - in sum, she bottled it all up and it exploded horribly. We'll see Jon's side of this fallout.

One thing that amuses me about her character is her repetitive use of certain words. 'Pretty' and 'stupid' are the main examples. So yeah, that was deliberate. I had to always catch myself and remember to use simpler words for her, while also putting more profanity because Arya would know that, even if she did not know what it meant. I really liked that contrast.

Also, I love writing an oblivious Arya. She's just a lost and angry little ball of prepubescent violence that we all love. This was pretty much a character focused chapter, with a few things about Plot Things thrown at it so it can all tie up nicely in the future.

We introduced Satin. As I said before, I'm trying my best to not use OC characters, and I need long and dark-haired boys. At least one that I could name. Thank god, we have Satin. He's cute, he's smart, he'll fit right in.

To be honest, I don't have much to say about the chapter. I'm just tired maybe. I'll wait for your reviews and I'll answer your questions and doubts!

Love you all :3

~Mari

Ps: please review and give me your thoughts. They're like gold for me T_T