A/N: Yes, I am still here! Sorry for the extended delay. I've been battling a monstrous case of writer's block, compounded by a case of not much motivation to write. I've gotten through it to a point that I'm trying to resume weekly posts of this story. I see the light at the end of the story, even if I'm extending it a bit, so for the time being, I'm only working on this (maybe doing a little writing of the others, but nothing will be published with them for a while.)

I know someone has been asking for more Aya so my profound apologies to them in particular. So I hope you enjoy this one.

On another note, I've kinda lost my beta and am really looking for another one. If you have an interest in helping me, drop me a pm at (username is MSquared79) or let me know here and I'll open my email address in my profile.

Again, thanks for your patience.

Arya II

She had asked around the keep if anyone had seen Jon. Most answered with a brief no or a shake of the head. So, Arya tried to think like her brother. She knew he was still coping with the truth about his parentage. He had been holding it in well for now, but she knew him. He was like an arrow waiting to be sprung from a bow. He would need an outlet for those emotions. That was why she ended up in the crypts.

Arya had been correct. At the other end of the hall, amidst the stone statues of their ancestors, there was Jon angrier than she had ever seen him.

"Why couldn't you tell me? When I was older, I would have understood why it needed to be a secret. But never once did you say anything!" he yelled at Ned Stark's image. "And then that last day. You said you would tell me when we saw each other next. Did a part of you know you wouldn't leave the South alive?"

That stung for Arya. She had been there in the capital with Father, watching him struggle. She didn't know what it was that troubled him, but she could see the worry he wore. And then she remembered those days, the last days, Father imprisoned, Sansa trying to hide, Syrio sacrificing himself for her to escape. All of it came in a blur to her, up to being in the arms of Yoren as he told her not to look, hearing her sister's screams.

The next sound she heard was a fist connecting with a pillar holding the ceiling up. Jon had punched it and now cradled his right hand in his left. This felt like the best time to approach him. "Did that make you feel better?" she asked.

He looked back to her, his face still red with anger. "I want to be alone," he told her.

"Well, that seems like a bad idea to me, brother," Arya retorted. "Especially if you broke your hand."

"It's not broken," he muttered.

She walked over and grabbed the hand. Giving it a squeeze, she saw him wince. "Perhaps," was all she said. Then she looked around. "I came here looking for you, you know. The day Bran told us."

Now Jon looked around, his gaze falling briefly on his mother's grave. "This was the last place I wanted to be that day. A part of me accepted, long ago, that my mother was dead. But I thought, at least, that I'd never had to confront it."

"But when you did have to confront it, it was right here. It has always been here," Arya finished, her voice one of understanding. "He did it to protect you."

"I know that," he growled at her. But Arya disagreed. At least a part of him understood just what their father had done and why he did it. Jon was right, though. There could have been ways of telling Jon, giving him that comfort, weren't there?

Then he looked at her and she was eleven years old again. "At least I know just why we always got on so well. All of Winterfell said you were Lyanna Stark reborn." He gave her a mirthless smile. "Except I think you'll choose to marry a Baratheon."

Her head snapped to glare at him. "What gave you that idea?" she nearly shouted.

He said nothing, but his grey eyes were alight with mirth. "I don't know if there will ever be a time when I am not angry with him about this," Jon admitted, looking back to their father's effigy. "If he had just told, everything could have been so different. Lady Stark…"

Now anger flared in Arya. She remembered her mother, how she had been to Jon. Arya loved her mother, but those were the times she hated her the most. "You've been wanting to spar with me, haven't you?" she asked, breaking her own thoughts.

He nodded towards Needle. "I have wondered if you got any better with that thing. I'm kind of surprised you haven't gotten yourself injured with."

"Then let's have a go. We both have emotions that are best worked off in the yard." It wasn't a suggestion. She knew he needed an outlet, after hearing just a little of Jon's rant to the ghost of their father. Not saying anything further, she turned her back to him and left the crypts.

He followed her, as she knew he would. They headed to the training yard, occupied currently with a few young people practicing, but also Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne and Ser Bronn. She chose to ignore the lot of them, her focus only on her brother.

Jon reached for a sparring sword, but Arya merely unsheathed Needle. He seemed cautious as he watched her. "I have heard a little of your skill, so I would feel more comfortable using blunted edges."

"You gave me Needle, you wanted to see how I've progressed," she told him. Then, with a nod of her chin, she indicated to the sword still at Jon's hip. "And I want to see you with that Valyrian steel sword."

That got the attention of the sellsword. "You afraid of a little girl?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"I'd watch it if I were you, Ser. She's rather good with that thin sword of hers," Brienne warned.

"And she did kill House Frey," Jaime reminded him. Arya winced when she heard that. Not that she was ashamed, no; she just wasn't sure if Jon knew the extent of that.

Mercifully, he didn't seem to hear that. All Jon did was raise an eyebrow. But he put the sparring sword down and grasped the pommel of Longclaw.

Arya couldn't help but admire it. She'd heard comments around Winterfell about it, even asked Lady Mormont during one of their sessions. She figured Jon would have returned the sword to House Mormont and wondered why he had not. "It's called Longclaw, right?" she asked. Her brother nodded. "How did it come into your possession?"

Pulling it from the scabbard, he explained, "I saved the life of the Lord Commander. He gave it to me as a sign of his gratitude. Said his son left it behind when he left Westeros. I tried to return it, but Ser Jorah refused." Then he looked at her. "You sure?"

Now she gave him a feral smile. "By all means, Your Grace," Arya replied.

Their fighting stances set, she and Jon danced in a circle, neither making for the other. They were both looking for the right opportunity to strike. Arya knew to wait him out. Jon was always great with the sword but had the tendency to grow impatient. And then it happened, just as she knew it would.

Jon lunged at her, bringing the bastard sword down. She easily avoided the weapon, ducking under the swipe. But just then, it came at her once more, and she was forced to block. Jon looked like he approved. "You have an advantage, for once, being smaller," he commented.

"You're not so big yourself," she retorted. Then she stepped back, holding Needle behind her. Jon looked at her curiously but made another thrust. She shifted from one side to the next, easily avoiding him again. But just like before, he attacked her side. "Where did you learn how to use that anyway?" he asked, swords clanging at their parry.

"Here and there. Father had a swordmaster instruct me in King's Landing, before…" Her voice trailed and Jon said nothing further. "Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos. Later, in my travels, I went there to...continue what he started."

"And learn in the House of Black and White?" another voice asked.

Jon must have thought hearing the question would make her slip, but she smoothly moved out of the path of Longclaw. She stopped and saw Sandor Clegane standing with the adults. Arya knew the Hound had come with her brother and the Dragon Queen, but since that day they all arrived, she hadn't seen much of him and wasn't particularly looking for him.

Since she hadn't answered his question, he added another. "That how you killed the Frey cunts? With what you learned there?"

Arya and Jon stopped their mock-skirmish. She looked from Clegane back to her brother, as well as noticed any other discussion on their side of the yard had stopped. Nothing was said until Jon asked, "That was you?"

She saw the look in his eyes. He was horrified to think of what she had done, but she bit back, "It was nothing less than they deserved. I was there, Jon, I saw…" Her voice broke, once more the scared little girl who was ready to run and help her mother and brother. She tried to regain her control as she asked, "Do you know what they did to Robb? To my mother?"

Jon looked at the ground, as if searching his memories. "I...Sam told me he was betrayed by Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, that Bolton stabbed him through the heart."

That told Arya he didn't know everything. She was about to answer when the Hound interrupted her. "Robb Stark's head they cut off," he said, "and topped his body with the head of his wolf. They paraded him around on a horse, mockingly calling him the King in the North." Jon's eyes went wide and looked at her.

"Arya…" He made a move to her, to embrace her, but she stepped back.

"I heard...I heard elsewhere that they slit Mother's throat, and they threw her body into the river for her 'funeral'." She couldn't look at her brother, not while she was still seeing Robb and what they did to him.

"Walder Frey, he bragged to me after we retook Riverrun," Jaime said so quietly, his voice could barely be heard, "that Bolton said to Robb, 'the Lannisters' send their regards'. My father arranged all of it. I only found out after I made it back to King's Landing with Lady Brienne."

"He had nothing to do with the Red Wedding, your Grace. I can vouch for him," Brienne said, confirming Jaime.

"You got her out of there?" Jon asked the Hound. "You got her to safety?"

Sandor looked at her. "She tried to run into the fight, to try and get to her mother and brother but I...stopped her. I carried her away, hoping she didn't see anything."

"Thank you," Jon replied to Clegane. Then he went on the attack again, this time aiming at Lannister.

The Kingslayer was caught off-guard, at least momentarily, but regained enough footing to defend himself. Then he seemed to relish the fight. He and Jon locked swords a number of times, less gracefully than Arya had fought him.

Jon said nothing during the exhibition, but Jaime made a few cocky comments. "I see you really are that good with a sword. Glad I get the chance to see, and not when my life is at stake." That was answered by a wide slash that nearly sliced Jaime's arm. He battled back with a kick to Jon's midsection. Jon was able to roll off that back to his feet. He leaped up, charged again, and gained an advantage

"Better than my father?" Jon asked.

Watching them, Arya knew who he meant, but Jaime stepped back to take a breath and an appraising eye. "Rhaegar was good. From what I was told, he got a late start. Was too into his books to think about being a warrior," Jaime replied. "But when he did...he was very good. Better than Ned Stark, oh most certainly." That seemed to shock Jon because he stopped entirely. Arya thought her brother was gearing up for another round, but instead, he took five steps back and then left the yard.

Jaime had the good sense to look regretful for his mistake. Arya wanted to take out Needle and take on Lannister but also wanted to run after her brother and see to him. She decided on the latter, but not before throwing Jaime a vicious look that he appeared to be scared of.

Arya saw him head away from the crypts and back to the Keep. "Jon!" she called after him. But he ignored her. She ran to catch up to him and at last got to him before he entered his room. "Jon, wait!"

It was surprising when he didn't stop her entry. He just continued on his way, dropping Longclaw on his desk. She went in and looked around. "Been a lot of years since I was in your room," she said to him.

Looking out the window, he acknowledged her with, "You always hid from your mother or Septa Mordane here. Usually under the bed."

She laughed at that, a genuine one that made her sound like the child she once was. "Remember the time you and Robb were in here and the septa demanded I come out. The two of you both were insistent that I was not here, coming up with all these crazy places to go look for me."

"I think she actually looked in all those places. And then at dinner that night, you showed up, acting all innocent," Jon responded, but still wasn't facing her.

She walked up beside him, her fingers brushing against his upper arm. "Jaime Lannister is an idiot," she said to him. "He shouldn't have said-"

"He's not wrong." That was all Jon said. Arya knew he was right, that Jaime was right.

"Even if you sprang from Rhaegar Targaryen's seed, it was Ned Stark who raised you," she reminded him.

He let out a humorless laugh. Without meeting her eyes, he reached over the desk and handed her a letter. "It was written by Aunt-by my mother." He handed it to her to see for herself."

My beloved husband,

I have missed you every day that you have been gone, but today, my loneliness was greater. Today, I felt our babe kick for the first time.

It was a strong one, as if spurring on a horse (now I know how all my mounts have felt!). I so wish you could have been here to feel it with me. I know you have been beside the mother of your children twice-over, but I do long for you to be with me. I have many fears, as I know what could happen to me, and if you were here, I know you could put such fears to rest.

And do not think I am still not displeased with you for leaving me here. If you would have let me, I would have wanted to be by your side as you make your way north. I have much to atone for in the chaos that has engulfed our land. One of my great fears is that I have displeased the gods so greatly, I will never be able to make up for what has happened. Forgiveness is not something I can ask for from a tower in the deserts of Dorne.

When the child is born, know that I will be by your side as soon as I can. You must come back to me, my love, so we can heal our land together.

Always,

Lyanna

"I was always Rhaegar Targaryen's son," Jon said. "All my life, I thought he didn't have me legitimized because your mother would have thrown a fit. But he never intended for me to be a Stark. 'You don't have my name, but you have my blood' was what Ned Stark always told me. He never truly saw me as his." He let out a deep sigh, before turning back to her. "So Ser Jaime is right to compare me to my true father."

Arya took one last look at the letter before setting it down, moving to stand in from of Jon, and slapping him across the face. It set him back a step or two from the sheer force of it. When he recovered from the shock, she met him with a hard stare. "That's for being stupid."

"Arya-!" he cried in a tone she hadn't heard since she was a child fighting with Sansa.

But he wasn't going to get a word in. "You were just as much Father's son as Robb, Bran or Rickon. He was absolutely thinking of Mother's reaction when he chose not to give you his name," she berated him. "Which was wrong of Mother. And it was wrong of Father to never tell her, or any of us, you most of all." Then she threw her arms around him like she had that last day at Winterfell. "You've always been my brother, you'll always be my brother and you have always been and will always be Ned Stark's son. And don't ever believe anything different!"

"Or you'll slap me again?"

Now she gave him a feral smile just like the one in the yard. "You don't want to think about what I'd do," she said.

He nodded in understanding. Then he sat down. "We haven't properly talked since I've been back," he said, "and from things said, I think we need to have it now." Arya shifted uncomfortably, but awaited his questions. "What did Clegane mean about how you killed...House Frey? The House of Black and White?"

She looked down at the floor, regretful now about having done it. Not because she regretted the action itself, it was just she never thought she'd have to face her family, Jon especially, with the killings done. However, if anyone was owed an answer, it was this brother. "The Faceless Men, they're assassins. I met one when I was captured at Harrenhal. He killed some men for me and then gave me a coin that I was to bring to Braavos if I decided to go there. I was trained with poisons, and how to properly fight."

"So that's what you are now?" He looked so sad at that thought.

But she shook her head. "No, I...did not complete the training, not entirely. I was sent to kill a woman, who was only wanted dead because she was a lead actress and her understudy was jealous. They tried to kill me for not completing my task." Arya just shrugged her shoulders. "I killed the one they sent and told them I was going home. I realized I could never give up being Arya Stark. I tried to get rid of all my things, but," she touched Needle, at her side, "it was your gift I could never throw away."

"And the Freys?"

Pleasure graced her face at the memories. "When I came back to Westeros, I went to the Twins. I impersonated a maid, with one of the Faces I took from the House of Black and White." Jon's brow furrowed, trying to understand what she as talking about. She waved him off, not wanting to get into those details just yet. "I killed his sons, the ones who killed Mother and baked them into a pie. Then I fed the pie to Lord Frey, before revealing my identity and slitting his throat. Then, wearing his face, I held a feast, toasted the whole of House Frey for the way they wiped out...the way they killed Talisa, and Mother, and all our bannermen breaking guest rights. I had the wine poisoned and they all drank it."

He got up from the seat beside her, trying to take it all in. "I would have gone south, to King's Landing and killed Cersei, but I was told you had won Winterfell back and been crowned King in the North. So I came home." She stood next to him. "You saved me a second time, Jon." She embraced him again, but he didn't return it immediately. She was afraid, so afraid, he would not want to look at her again, knowing what she had just said.

Then he enveloped her in his arms. "I beat Ramsey Bolton bloody, would have killed him with my bare hands if Sansa hadn't come into the courtyard. What he did to her, killing Rickon when I was so close to saving him...I understand the need to exact revenge." He pulled back to look her in the eyes. She knew what he was searching for, the little sister he left all those years ago. "You scare me, I won't deny that. But also understand you."

Arya smiled at him, shyly like she often did when she was younger. She knew their relationship would never be the same, never be what it once was, but in the understanding they shared, well, that was something to build up from.