Arya and Sansa escaped to the godswood soon after their father and brother's departed. Their mother, who was adapting remarkably well to their old life, had wanted them to have their normal lessons with the septa.

"What could she possibly teach us mother," Sansa had asked, a bitter edge was in her voice.

"We aren't the children we seem to be," Arya added.

Their mother regarded them shrewdly. "I am aware of that. I am also quite aware that people will notice if my children suddenly stop their studies. Take the day to reflect, but tomorrow you must behave as everyone expects of you, understood?"

"Of course mother," Sansa replied politely. She grabbed Arya's hand and pulled her out of the room before Arya could protest.

Sansa continued walking until they reached the godswood. She had relaxed her grip on Arya's hand as they went.

"I don't want to be treated like a child again," Arya complained.

Sansa laughed bitterly. "Do you think that I want to be treated like a child again? I had a husband and two sons remember?"

Arya sighed and sat down in the grass, plucking at the blades around her. "And now you are an eleven year old girl again. I was an assassin, and now I am a nine year old girl again."

Sansa sank to the grass beside her. "Can you still change faces?"

Arya chewed her lip for a moment. She did not know if she could do it or not. She had not thought about doing so yet. She closed her eyes and focused on how to transform. She had not needed to change faces in years.

When word of the Others reached Braavos, she was permitted to return to Westeros. Shortly after reaching Gulltown, Arya had learned the fate of her sister. Lady Sansa of House Stark was also the Lady of the Vale, married to Lord Hardyng of the Vale. They were well known for trying to stave off the famines and for lending their support to the Targaryen King and Queen. Arya reached Sansa at the Gates of the Moon shortly before her second son was born.

The sisters remained together until Sansa died when the Other's attacks finally breached the Gates of the Moon. There were survivors, Arya was amongst them. As they were escaping the Vale, they were attacked again. They fought through the long night, setting fire to the animated corpses of their former friends, including Sansa. Arya had been one of the few to survive that night. Afterward, she wandered aimlessly northward. She was determined to die as close to home as she could. She died alone, somewhere in the middle of the North.

Arya waved her hand across her face and opened her eyes. The look upon Sansa's face confirmed that she was still, in a sense, no one. She changed her face back to 'Arya' a moment later.

"Apparently I can." She couldn't help but wonder what that meant. Did she still owe her allegiance to the many faced god? Were the secrets of the guild still hers to keep? Would they discover her existence?

"Then what have you lost?" Sansa looked up at the trees around them, avoiding eye contact. "We have our home, our parents, our brothers, and each other. I will treasure these moments that we have together again. I will do anything that I can in order to help change the future." She paused for a moment, emotion choking her voice. "Even if my sons are never born. So don't complain to me about having to sit and sew and learn to be proper all over again. Not when you have lost nothing."

Arya grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed. "I don't want to lose you again. I don't want to lose father and mother and our brothers again. I lost all of you. I was there when father died. I was there when Robb and Mother died. I was there when you and your sons died. This is the last place I want to be. I want to be out there fighting. I can't do that as a child. I can't do that while sitting and sewing."

Sansa looked her in the eyes. There was steel in her sky blue eyes. "Wasn't your sword called Needle?"

Arya let out an involuntary snicker. "Yes, why?"

She smiled. "We can learn to sew together don't you think?"

"You want to learn how to use a sword?"

"I want know how to fight. I want to know how to defend myself. I want to be able to defend the people I love." Sansa's smile and strength warmed Arya's heart. "What do you think? Sit with me through our lessons every day and then train with me afterward."

"I think that I like you more now than the first time we were nine and eleven."

Sansa huffed a little. "I don't even remember myself at this age."

She rolled her eyes. "You think that life is a song. You dream of love and duty and gallant knights."

"Life is not a song," she muttered with a faraway look. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Are you cold?"

She looked afraid. "I've been cold ever since I woke up. I was killed by an Other. It was so cold. What if they can control me still?"

Arya laughed. "They don't, not now at least. If you get taken over again, I promise you that I will kill you."

She gave her sister a wry grin. "For that I thank you."

Arya returned her smile and then lay down in the grass, looking up at the sky through the leaves of the trees. Sansa lay beside her a few moments later. "I missed the godswood and summer," Sansa murmured. "And grass. I missed Winterfell. If I never see King's Landing this time I will die happily."

"Even if the Others kill you?"

"I think that I would rather die by the Others than deal with the Lannisters again."

Joffrey, Cersei, Ser Illyn, Ser Meryn, Ser Gregor, the Tickler, Raff the Sweetling, Dunsen, the Hound, Lord Walder, Tywin Lannister, Roose Bolton, Ramsay Snow. Valar morghulis.

Unbidden, the very long list of names ran through her mind. She knew there were more people whom she had forgotten. Names that she had promised to the god of death. Names that had been given to the god of death. She wanted them to die again. She would kill each and every one of them a second time if she could. A blade in her hand. A blade in their throats.

Her passion for killing had lessened before she became truly faceless. Death was now an art. Death was now a gift. She was no longer the young child who had wished to be a swordswoman. Neither was she the young girl who sought nothing but blood. She had become a sword. A sword who could smile and laugh like a normal girl. A sword who killed when killing was needed.

The sword sighed. She found herself agreeing with her sister's desire to never deal with the Lannisters again, but knew there would be no way to avoid the Lords of the Westerlands. I am nine again. I can pretend to be blissfully ignorant, at least for today.

"We get our wolves again today."

"I know. I can't wait until they return."

"It's so strange, seeing everyone again. We all lived to be older than Robb, except poor Rickon."

"Drowning seems like a terrible death."

"Says the girl who was killed and reanimated by an almost immortal enemy. I starved to death remember? I think that I would have rather drowned."

"You can this time around if you want." Arya ripped a wad of grass from the ground and threw it at Sansa's face. She spluttered and jumped into a sitting position. "What was that for!"

She wrinkled her nose and laughed, pushing herself onto one elbow. "I will die with a sword in my hand as I did the first time."

Her sister pulled up grass and threw it back at her. They proceeded to throw grass at one another for several minutes before falling to the ground giggling. They eventually returned to the Keep to clean up and figure out what tasks they were supposed to actually do that day. They made a game of trying to remember the names of the people in the castle. Arya was better by far than Sansa at remembering the names of the people they saw.

At some point, Jeyne Poole appeared. The girl wanted Sansa to spend time with her instead of Arya, which Sansa promptly disagreed with. "I am spending today with my sister," she declared. "Either spend time with both of us, or we will see one another tomorrow for our lessons." Arya remembered how much she loved her sister in that moment. Surprisingly, Jeyne stayed with them.

It was late in the day when their father and brothers returned. Lord Stark seemed exhausted, but greeted Sansa and Arya with a kiss when he arrived. He was holding a small direwolf pup. Jon and Robb followed after him, and gave the girls their direwolves. Bran was behind them, holding his wolf.

"Nymeria."

"Lady."

The girls murmured the names of their wolves happily as they snuggled them.

"I have been told that this direwolf is your youngest brother's," their father said. As he was speaking, their mother and Rickon arrived. Lord Stark handed the pup to his youngest child.

"Shaggy," the boy exclaimed, cuddling the small wolf close.

A thin smile lit briefly across their father's face. "Have any of you seen Theon today? He was supposed to ride out with us, but did not." Sansa, Arya, and their mother all said that they had not seen him at all. "I must go speak with him then."

"No," Bran announced. "I will go. I believe that I returned his memories as well. Robb, would you mind looking after Summer for me?"

"I will make sure that he is fed," Robb replied, taking the small silver-grey pup from his brother. "Let's go feed them. That is, if there is nothing else you need father?"

Lord Stark smiled at his children. "Go, feed them. We will dine together tonight in my solar."

Arya, Sansa, Robb, Jon, and Rickon headed to the kitchens to feed their wolves. Bran walked away to find and speak with Theon.


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