Arya couldn't believe it. How could Father betroth her to Domeric? It made her both mad and sad, and a whole mess of other things that she couldn't even put a name to.

Father had told her not long ago, or at least it felt like not long ago. She had went to him after Domeric had told her how Father needed to speak to her. Mother was there as well. They sat her down and told her what was to happen. She had gotten angry, so angry that she had yelled at them, then she ran to her room and locked the door. Truly, she had no idea how long she had thrown her toys, and screamed, and wept, and then just sat in silence.

"Domeric will care for you," her father had said. "And it won't be for many years. By then, You'll be much older than Sansa is now." Mother had added, "He will indeed care for you, treat you as you deserve."

Arya knew Domeric would care for her, she hadn't needed to be told so. Especially not twice. He was already so kind. He listened to her and laughed at her jokes. He even encouraged her endeavors that Mother, Sansa, and Septa would scold her for. Mayhaps Domeric would even take her hunting, once they were married that is. And now that she thought on it, she may not even gag when they would have to kiss, like Mother and Father did on partings.

But no, it would not end that way. To think so would just be dreaming a stupid dream, like other girls did. Domeric would be sickened by this betrothal. Everyone thought Sansa would eventually be married to the Bolton. A beautiful young Lady for a comely young Lord, like in the stupid songs.

But now Domeric was stuck with her. Her. Not Sansa, who was pretty and could sing even prettier songs and recite poetry and do needle work. Arya couldn't do any of those things. She was just awful at them. She sung like a goose, recited lines in the wrong order, and sewed crooked stitches. Domeric would marry an ugly little girl. Well, she wouldn't be little then, but she'd still be ugly. Skinny as a beggar and horse faced. It wasn't fair.

Arya pick up a nearby doll, she had made it herself when she was younger. It was brown and odd shaped, with one leg longer than the other and the left arm fatter than the other. Its stitches were crooked and its head was far too big for its stick thin body. Just like me, she thought before throwing it at the wall.

Nymeria hopped up on her bed and licked her face. Arya hugged the wolf and buried her face in Nymeria's gray fur. Why can't I be a wolf, she thought to herself. Wolves don't have to get married, especially not dire wolves.

There was a knock at her door.

Arya sniffled and yelled, "Go away!"

Whoever was at the door knocked again. "I don't want to see anyone!"

There was a chuckle from the other side, a chuckle she had been dreading to hear. "Not even your dearest betrothed?"

Domeric. Why did it have to be him? She wished he would just disappear, but at the same time, she wanted to talk to him. She wanted to hear his stupid jokes, even though she'd roll her eyes at most of them.

He knocked again. "Arya, it was a jest. Arya, come now. Please?"

She sighed and went to the door, Nymeria followed. Opening the door just a crack she asked, "What do you want?"

Domeric held up his hands and grinned the same stupid grin he always did. "I come bearing peace."

She put her hands on her hips. "So?"

"I don't suppose we could talk?"

Arya was going to tell him to go away. But As she opened her mouth, Nymeria pushed passed her legs. The wolf slipped her snout into the opening, then pushed her head through. And before Arya could stop her, Nymeria had the door wide open.

Domeric scratched under the dire wolf's chin. "Shall I take that as a yes?"

Arya sighed, but let him in all the same. Domeric stepped over the misshapen doll she had thrown and awkwardly stood about. She shut the door and went to sit on her bed.

"Arya," he said. "I want you to know, I didn't ask for this."

That was clear. She pulled her legs to her chest and tucked her chin into her knees. "You're stating the obvious."

"Yes, well- wait. What do you mean?"

She didn't want to say. He'd pity her, she hated being pitied. "Nothing."

He got down on his knees before her bed, directly in front of her. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"We're friends, are we not?"

"I guess."

"Right, and friends talk about things. Look, I only meant- I... I don't want you to feel strange around me. We'll be married one day, but that day won't be for a very, very long time. I don't want to spend all that time with you hating me."

"I don't hate you. I just... I don't know."

"I do care for you Arya. I enjoy your company. But I don't want you to feel like I've been plotting to wed you. I had nothing to do with this engagement, I only learned of this a short time before you. I just, I just hope you don't think me monster that's been preying on you."

She shook her head. "No. That's the last thing that I thought."

He eyed her strangely, as if he was looking into her thoughts. "I also don't want you to think that I'm disgusted by this."

She found some relief in that.

"Yes, it is still strange. I just mean, I'm far older than you. I don't truly know what to think of all this. Just know, you still have a future. I know you don't like being forced into, well, anything. But your life isn't over, it's just that one thing has been decided for you."

Arya didn't feel so bad now. She didn't feel exactly good, but she felt far better than before. A frown was still on her face.

Domeric grinned his stupid grin. "Why my lady, you're smiling. Why?"

Her brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Domeric looked confused. "You're smiling," he stated.

What are you going on about? "Dom, I-"

"Why are you smiling?"

"I'm no-"

"Why are you smiling? It's huge. Your smile, I mean. A very happy smile. It's huge!"

Arya wanted to yell at him, to slap him even. But instead, she smiled. She tried to stop it, but it broke through anyways.

"Told you you were smiling. I don't think I've ever seen anyone smile so much."

"Stop!" It came our half a laugh.

"Look at those pearly whites!"

"Stop it," she said, looking away from him. "You're making me laugh."

"Oh?"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Yes!"

"My lady," said Domeric, feigning a snooty voice. "A proper lady never rolls her eyes!"

She shook her head. "You're stupid."

He placed his hands over his heart. "You wound me, my Lady. Woefully, you do."

Arya now sat cross legged. "Woefully? No one talks like that."

Domeric smirked. "I talk like that."

"Yes, but you don't count."

"Why?"

"Because you're weird."

"Why thank you, my Lady."

"Don't call me that."

"Oh! Who do we have here?" Domeric picked up a small, woolen toy from the floor. It was a gray wolf with leather button eyes, only big enough to be held in a single hand.

"That's from when I was little." Though I was probably still the size I am now. "Father had it made for my nameday."

"Well, he's very comely." He set it on her lap. "No offense, Nymeria. You're prettier."

Her Dire Wolf sniffed and snorted into Domeric's hair. Arya smiled. Nymeria didn't like many people, but she liked Domeric well enough. They had that in common.

"Well, I should be off." Domeric stood and went to the door.

Arya was sad that he was leaving. She enjoyed their time together, but if Septa found out that Domeric had come to see her, the old woman would scream until her teeth fell out.

As Domeric was half out the door, she called his name.

"Yes?" His head was turned towards her.

"I'm... I'm glad that I wasn't, wasn't betrothed to someone else."

He smiled at her. "Me too, Arya. Me too."

Once he was gone, Arya stood from her spot on her bed. "So, Nymeria, what should we bring to King's Landing?"

They would not be leaving for a few days from now. But her Septa was just so picky about how things were packed. It was best to be somewhat prepared. Nymeria proved to have made a choice, as in her mouth she held the little woolen wolf.

"No, Nymeria." She took the toy and tossed it back to the bed. "We won't need that."

But the next time she turned back around, Nymeria was once again sitting with the toy in her mouth. She sighed. "Fine. We'll bring it with us."

Sometime later, Arya found herself bored. She refused to leave her room, she was far too stubborn for that. She wasn't necessarily mad at her parents, but they didn't need to know that. But there was only so much that could be done here. Sure, she could pack, but she had lost interest in that. Now she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. On her belly rested Nymeria's chin. As Arya threaded her fingers through Nymeria's thick fur, she wondered what King's landing would be like. Hot, most likely. She didn't care for the heat. Robb and Mother and Rickon wouldn't be coming. She'd miss them. But most of all, she'd miss Jon. They were closer than the rest. But at least she'd have Domeric with her.

Suddenly, her belly growled. She hadn't eaten since early this morning. It was nearly time for sup. Arya wondered what was being made in the kitchens. Maybe chicken, cooked and honeyed. Even a bowl of stew would taste good.

A quiet knock brought her from her thoughts. Best not be Septa, she thought. Then her door creaked open, she'd forgotten to lock it. But, much to her excitement, a black haired, grey eyed head poked its way in. "Hello, little sister."

She had to smile. Jon would be leaving soon, whether it was before or after her was currently unknown. Last Arya had heard, Jon was to join the Nights Watch, and become a ranger, just like Uncle Benjen.

"What are you doing here?"

Jon slipped into her room, shutting the door behind him. In his hands he carried a plate. "Thought you'd be hungry."

Her mouth watered at the two honeyed chicken legs and slice of black bread. "I am." Her stomach growled again. "Very, very hungry."

Nymeria trotted over and sniffed Jon's leg before she began to glare at the plate.

Jon sat down on her vest and set the plate before her. "Sorry I couldn't sneak more."

She hungrily sunk her teeth into one of the legs. "It's alright. Why hasn't anyone come to get me?"

Jon pinched a corner of her bread. "Your mother said that if you won't come to the table, then you'll just have to go without."

Arya couldn't believe that. Mother was never harsh, and she'd never before sent one of her children to bed without dinner. "You're serious?"

Jon nodded. "Though she was looking quite glum when I left. Think she's starting to feel bad."

"She should," Said Arya, letting Nymeria lick her fingers. "Where's Ghost?"

"Left him behind. Didn't want to catch any attention. A dire wolf isn't very subtle."

Arya nodded. "I don't suppose you've heard?"

"Heard about what?"

Arya sighed. "Heard why I locked myself in my room."

"Oh." Jon frowned. "Father told us. Robb, Sansa, and me, I mean."

"What do you think?"

Jon stood and went to the window. "I cannot believe it." He turned back to it. "How could Domeric do this..."

Arya felt angry. "He didn't have much choice in the matter." She crossed her arms. "And I don't see why you're so pouty about it. You aren't going to wed him."

Jon stepped towards her. "I-..." he shut his mouth and flopped down on the bed. "Sorry. I'm just... I don't know. I haven't had a true friend like him before."

"Oh? So what am I?"

Jon sighed. "My sister, just like Robb's my brother. But Domeric isn't... he doesn't share our blood, but he treated me like I was... like I was like the rest of you."

"Then why are you angry?"

"Because he's going to marry you. You're my... Well, you're my little sister. It's just strange."

"You don't have to tell me so, I do have some knowledge of the matter. Besides, won't you two be brothers?"

Jon smiled at that. "I suppose we will..."

"Arya," Came her mother's voice, followed by a knock. "Arya, please open the door."

Arya's throat went dry. "Quick," she whispered. "Hide!"

Jon looked around. "Where?"

Arya's eyes landed on her trunk that sat at the foot of her bed. She leapt to her feet and began to fling all she could out of the trunk. "Get in," She hissed.

"I'll suffocate," protested Jon. Arya glared at him. "Fine, fine."

Jon got into the trunk, pulling his legs to his chest so that he could just barely fit. Arya shut the top.

"Arya, please," called her mother.

"Coming!" She hid the food Jon had brought under her sheets. Then she ran over and opened her door. "Yes?"

Mother smiled her pretty smile. "May I come in?" Her soft hands held another plate, one far more loaded with food than Jon's had been. Arya stepped aside to allow her mother passage.

Mother sat down on Arya's bed, and patted the place beside. "Will you sit with me?"

Arya nodded and sat down besides her mother. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Mother took her hand and kissed her hair. "There is no need for that. We sho-... I should have prepared you. It was wrong to spring it on you the way we did. I just forget how young you are and how... how different you are from Sansa."

Arya slid away from her mother and eyed her. "Different? You mean wrong."

"No, Arya. That's not what I meant."

Arya stood from the bed. "Yes, it is. I'm wrong. All wrong. I'm ugly and no good at anything. I tried," she admitted. "I still try. But I- I can't be like Sansa."

"Arya-"

"I can't!" Tears stung her eyes then. That made her mad, and that made her tear up more.

"Arya!" She took Arya's hands in her own. "You are not wrong. You are beautiful and talented. You are my baby girl, and I love you."

Arya sniffled and jumped at her mother, tossing her arms around her neck. They hugged tightly and Arya buried her face into her mother's shoulder. She felt as if she was Rickon's age, young enough to be cradled in her mother's arms.

"I love you, too," she said in a whisper.

"Come now, love." Arya's mother pulled her up to the bed and placed the stuffed plate in her lap. "You must eat before you starve," she said as she wiped Arya's tears.

Arya wanted her mother to stay, to talk and eat with her. But then she remembered Jon in her trunk. She hoped he wasn't dead, or something. "Mother," she said. "Could I... Could I eat alone? It's just... I have a lot to think about."

Mother smiled and kissed both her cheeks. "Yes, my sweat. Of course."

She waited until Mother was gone, then got up to let out Jon. He was perfectly alive, though Arya almost wished he wasn't. "You ruined a perfect moment," she said with a smirk and a laugh.

Jon rolled his eyes. "My apologies, little sister."

She rolled her eyes. "Come, eat with me. You won't have any meals this good on the wall."

"Oh, but haven't you heard? I won't be going to the wall."

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