A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own GOT and only write for fun.
The outer walls of Winterfell loomed large in the distance, a blanket of summer snows covering them softly in white sheen, and if she squinted hard enough she could make out the tiny figures of the men stationed at the turrets. A warm feeling washed over her. She was home.
"This is the place you have been braggin' 'bout?" Gendry joked, but she ignored him. It was true she had bragged. They had been traveling everyday for a little over a moon. When they arrived at White Harbor, they were given fresh horses and an escort that was made up of Wendel Manderly and twenty knights of his house.
They road swiftly, but in their downtime, she spoke often to Gendry about Winterfell. About how the ground wasn't even so the covered bridge connected the fourth floor of the bell tower to the second floor or the rookery, about the crypt where they would pay respects to the kings of winter, and the courtyard where they would play.
Gendry, sometimes, had been easy to talk to. She still wasn't sure how she felt about him. Bad enough that her father had given orders that Syrio was to train him while they were on the ship. She didn't even have her teacher to herself anymore.
It wasn't all bad though. The sun didn't hide out at sea. It beat and lashed out at you as unforgivable as any harsh snow she have ever experienced. It was nice to share that burden with someone who didn't complain. At least Gendry wasn't rushing to a barrel to lose his stomach every five minutes like Septa Mordane. The sea disagreed with her.
Sansa told her that Gendry had to be important or father wouldn't have whisked him away from Kings Landing like he did. Gendry disagreed. " I'm a 'prentice smith, and one day might be I'll make a master armorer… if I don't run off and get myself killed."
Dark, but simple. She could do simple. She liked simple. Still, comments like the one he just made caused her to question whether she even liked him or not. She finally responded to him with a soft, "Aye,' that she wasn't even shore he heard. Nor did she care.
She remembered being a few years younger running from her brothers and falling right there, near a spot she could see in the distance by the large gatehouse. She could almost smell the grass, feel the snow tipped blades rub roughly against her skin, remember how the pain was drowned out by the laughter.
She urged her horse forward, suddenly, and it broke into a gallop. She could hear the guards begin to chase her, and was grateful when she heard her sister's soft voice call out for them to stop. She raced to a spot near the gatehouse where she knew that she could easily slip past all of the people that were waiting for them to return. Only Nymeria followed her now.
She remembered sitting on her father's knee, asking him the first thing he did when he returned home after the last war. She remembered him smiling down bright at her and telling her that his first stop was to see her, she just had been born. He took her to the godswood and prayed to thank the old gods for her health and safety.
It was hard thinking of her father. She couldn't help to think that he was in danger. Back in White Harbor Lord Wyman told Sansa and her that he had gotten word that her father had escaped the capital and had safely arrived in High Garden but that wasn't enough. Even roses had thorns. He should've been on the boat with them.
So now it was her turn to pray. She wasn't stupid. She saw the banners handing from the walls of her home. The silver fist on the scarlet shield, the black bear in the green wood, she even recognized the new one, the skill against a winter field. It was obvious that Robb called the banners. The North was preparing for war.
Her first stop home was going to be the godswood before anything but she didn't want to pray for anybody's safety. She wanted to help. So she would pray for something different. She would pray that she could find a way to help them. Jon was already fighting somewhere in the Riverlands and Robb was preparing to march to meet him. The pack survives. She wouldn't leave them alone.
It surprised her when she found someone else at the heart tree praying. The girl had long dark hair and it looked like a sword was sticking out from her lap. The spiked mace on her back gave her identity away, and she felt the need to call out to her, she hadn't seen her since they were younger, but her father's words echoed loudly in her head. It was rude to interrupt a person praying.
So instead she paused to listen, wondering what her friend was praying about. Knowing her it was probably something similar. Knowing Lyanna Mormont, she wouldn't like the fact that the rest of her family was off to fight while she had to stay behind. They were similar that way.
Sobs and sniffles interrupted her thoughts. Her friend was crying, which had to mean that something was wrong. Nothing bothered Lyanna. Nothing. She approached her quietly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Lyanna," she spoke as softly as she could, the concern growing as she saw the tears falling from her closed eyes. True, it had been long since they last saw each other, but the memories never could fade. The North remembers. It was in their blood.
"Arya," she responded, her eyes, red from crying, shooting open and her backhand quick to wipe away any tears. Gone was the ferocious she-bear that Arya remembered, replaced by a wounded cub. She even stood up to hug her, it was so odd but she hugged back. Her friend needed it.
"Why do we mourn?" she asked, trying her best to choose her words wisely.
"Uncle Jeor," she responded pointing to the sword. It was Longclaw. "We received word just this morning. Riders from the watch rode in carring a message that Uncle Jeor was dead."
Arya held her tighter. Her father had told stories of Jeor Mormont. He spoke highly of the man, of his honor, of his contributions to the North not only at Bear Island but also at the wall. His loss would be felt.
"Lyanna," she spoke softly again still holding on tightly. "The North remembers."
Her friend pulled back a little, "I know."
"His bones, have they been returned to Bear Island?" she asked. That was important. Her father had told them how outraged Lady Dustin had been that he had left the bones of her late husband down south when he returned home with his own sister. Her father had tried to make up for it by sending for them later, but whispers said that she never really forgave him for it. He had broken a northern tradition.
"Aye, they knew that your brother called the banners so they sent his bones to Bear Island and his sword here," she responded pointing to Longclaw. "I would have been there to meet you at the gates but given everything that has happened, your brother gave us leave."
"I didn't go to the gatehouse," Arya smiled. "You know I don't like the crowds, the people worshiping us because of our name."
"You Starks are always so humble," Lyanna responded a little bit of mirth breaking through the sadness. Arya smiled at her brightly again watching as her friend finally lifted her eyes from the grass and looked at her surroundings. She noticed Nymeria and pointed, "What is that?"
"My direwolf, Nymeria," Arya responded simply. Lyanna giggled.
"Your father let you have a direwolf?" she asked, curious. Arya nodded, and her giggle turned into a full blown laugh.
"Good," she said turning suddenly serious. "Now there is no way mother can deny me a cub."
Arya wrapped her arm around her friend and together they laughed loudly. It was good to be home.
They had kept her room the same, which naturally meant it was a mess. From the clothes that she had missed when she packed, to the cup that was thrown in the corner, it was like the servants were given orders not to touch a thing. She smiled, it must have been her mother.
They had gotten word in White Harbor about their mother as well. It was said that she was riding to Moat Cailin, where she could then carry on to Winterfell. If Arya's calculations were right, that meant that they would cross path as Robb lead the North south.
A soft knock on her door broke her thoughts. "Come in," she called out and the door burst open. It was Robb, he was smiling at her. She got up and ran into his embrace, happy to hug him again. She wouldn't give him a chance to say anything else, she had to try first. "I want to go with you. I could be your page or your squire, Syrio has taught me a lot and I've gotten good with a sword. I can fight. I don't want to leave or Jon or father alone out there. Father always says that the pack survives. Don't leave me here, please Robb promise!"
"Slow down Arya," Robb laughed at her. "You know Sansa was right."
"About what?"
"She told me that you would pester me with questions, begging me to take you with me. It's just who you are."
"Does that mean you will take me?" she asked, her hopes raising ever so slightly.
Robb sighed. "Mother would have my head."
"But mother isn't here, and father named you the acting Lord of Winterfell because he trust your judgment. Besides, if I were your page, that means you would have Nymeria, Grey Wind, and Lyarra to protect you and when we got to the Riverlands, Ghost will be there as well! Not even the Lannisters could stand up to the might of four direwolves. The pack survives!"
Robb frowned at her before he shook his head. "Arya, I can't let you go with me. If something happened to you, I would never be able to forgive myself. You'll be safe here."
"What about what I want?" she asked, her anger starting to get the best of her. "If Bran wasn't hurt you would let him go."
He glared at her, matching her anger. "If Bran wasn't hurt he would have no choice but to stay here. Father is with the Tyrell's and Lord Renly and we don't know if we can trust them until he sends word. He could be there prisoner right now and we have no way of knowing it. Jon is already in the Riverlands, helping defend our grandfathers lands, and soon I will march to join him. If something happens to us, Bran would be the next in line. So you are wrong little sister. Healthy or sick, Bran would be stuck here in Winterfell just like you."
"I could protect you," she tried. She punched his arm when he laughed.
"Since when do little sister's protect big brothers?" he asked.
"When they're not stupid and let them!" she responded, her voice rising.
"Arya," Robb said sternly. "That is enough. You are not coming with me. End of story. Now get ready for the feast. It is important we show unity in front of the bannermen, especially now that the Mormonts have lost Jeor."
He didn't give her a chance to respond and walked out her door. To say she was angry would be an understatement but she didn't care what Robb said. She would find a way to be there. Find a way to fight, she just had to figure out a way. She couldn't go as herself, she knew that much, and Nymeria would have to hide in the woods so that she wouldn't be easily spotted. She could cut her hair real short so that she looked like a boy and that nobody would question her. She just had to find someone that would take her as a page or squire, that way there wouldn't be any questions.
She could ask Syrio, but she felt bad. He was supposed to be her teacher, not a solider but she had little doubts that once Robb saw him in the yard that he wouldn't ask him to join their cause. Syrio was very good with a sword.
But none of that mattered right now. She would figure out that later. Robb was right about one thing. They had to show unity and be strong for the Mormonts. For her friend Lyanna. She could figure out a way to join her brother later, right now she just needed to be a friend.
They sat at the great table at the head of the Great Hall. Robb sat in the Lord's chair, and next to him Lady Maege sat as his honored guest. Arya couldn't help but admire her. She thought she lost Bran and could barely do anything for weeks, yet here she was, a woman who just lost her own brother, and she sat in her seat regally and proud. She smiled and laughed but Syrio was right. The eyes told a different story.
Her eyes spoke of grief, of anger and loss. Nobody else at the feast knew that. She carried herself well. A warrior and a lady. Arya hoped that one day she could be like Lady Maege.
When the hall was as full as it was going to be, her brother had invited the North but most of the houses hadn't arrived yet and he told those house south of Winterfell to meet him at Moat Cailin, her brother rose and began to speak. The hall immediately quieted.
"When I was a young boy my father would bring me to his solar and tell me about the great houses of the North. He told me about the new houses like House Bones, made up of the free folk who had sworn loyalty so that they didn't have to live in fear. He told me of the old houses like Houses Glover, Bole, Branch, Forrester and Woods, who worked hard and diligently to rebuild our western fleet."
He paused then, looking down at Lady Maege with sadness in his eyes, "And then he told me a story about an old bear that was as loyal and honorable as ten men. He told me how he led his people to prosperity and defended them with everything he had when the Iron Born would raid. He told me that how when he felt his time was up at Bear Island, he refused to waste away into nothing, and instead volunteered himself to the Watch and rapidly rose through the ranks where he became the Lord Commander."
Arya watched in awe as her brother spoke. Robb turned back to the crowd. "Tonight, my friends is a bittersweet moment. It is true that my dear sisters have returned to me, but a great man has fallen. A great man whom, everyday, lived his life like any true northern man should. He lived without fear. He lived with honor. He lived with a respect and loyalty that he passed on to his people and family."
Robb continued. "When I called my banners, it was the Mormont's who were one of the first to respond. They boarded there ships and raced down our coast to make sure that they were among the first here to respond to there Lord. That unwavering sense of loyalty comes from one man, Jeor Mormont."
"I know many of you have questions as to why I have summoned you. You ask yourselves why you are here, you ask yourselves who is this summer child who thinks he can summon the banners to play at wall. I answer you today simply. The North remembers. It remembers the long night, where winter seemed like it would never end, and it felt like that the sun would never rise again. It remembers the ice blue eyes of those monter's who know nothing but destruction and murder. The North remembers that Winter is coming."
He paused again, Grey Wind at his heels surveying the room as if he was making sure everyone was paying attention. "Jeor Mormont remembered as well. Some of you are here directly because of Jeor Mormont. Lord Bones, my father may have given you your freedom but it was Lord Commander Mormont who gave your people the lands at the gift, it was Lord Commander Mormont who knew the histories of the North and was able to provide my father with a list of castles that had long been unoccupied so that the freefolk could build, and again, it was Lord Commander Mormont who punished anyone who attacked or treated any of you at the wall unjust."
"Lord Commander Mormont knew and understood something that we didn't at the time. We all are one people. We are the North. We are warriors and fighters that do nothing but survive and thrive in lands that no other people could. We are the first men. He knew that. He understood that. Thousands of years ago, our ancestors were under attack by an evil unheard of. They fought and banished that evil, but that evil has returned," he pointed to a trashing box that was chained to the table.
"Unchain it," he commanded. The members of the watch who had delivered the news and box rose quickly with torches in hand. Robb took Lady Maege's hand and pulled her behind her as he drew Ice and nodded. As soon as the men unchained the box, a pall hand broke free and started to flail around, looking for something to attack. The wolves howled, but before anybody could make a move, Robb swung Ice quickly, severing the hand in half and leaving it lifeless.
Robb looked around the room. "Winter is here. A man who knew it was coming, who fought to bring some of you to safety from it, a man who has protected the world from it died not long ago because two wights rose south of the wall and attacked him while he slept. I have called you here to fight. I have called you here because even though we as people are strong, we are not strong enough. It is time we interfered in the business of the south. It is time we united the rest of Westeros under one cause so that we can stop men from perishing. The others will not stop, they will not tire, all they want is destruction. We will need the South's help to fight this war, and there is no way that Joffery Lannister is the King who can lead us against these monsters."
"I ask that you help me. That you help the North. Soon other Northern houses will descend upon Winterfell asking the same questions you had, wondering why it is we fight. We fight because we must. We fight for survival. We fight because we remember… just like Lord Commander Jeor."
He turned around and picked up his glass before turning back to the room. "Tonight we celebrate a man who every single person in this room should strive to be like. A man who lived life with honor, loyalty and no regrets. Tonight, and forever more, the North remembers Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Soon we march to make sure he did not die in vain. For Jeor!"
The wolves howled and the great hall shook. Arya found herself standing, arm in arm with her friend Lyanna, pride in her eyes. They all rose then, some hooting and hollering, others quietly tipping there glasses and mugs as a sign of respect, but they all said one thing. It was the unity that Robb spoke of that they needed. "For Jeor!"
A/N: I could put an excuse here as to why this has taken so long, but I've got nothing. I've just been busy with other stuff and haven't had as much time writing as I used to. Yet, you all have stuck with me here, still liking, favoriting, sending me messages of encouragement, and I really appreciate it.
This chapter was from Arya's point of view. I always help the belief that even if she did somehow make it home, Arya wouldn't have been satisfied sitting safely at Winterfell while her brothers fought. I hoped to portray that here, as well as some leadership from Robb from someone else's point of view. Hope that I did a good job.
Let me know what you think! As always, I really appreciate it! Until next time!