The ride up to Winterfell from where she and the Hound had captured Theon and found Jeyne was, for Arya, the most stressful part of her journey. She wasn't concerned at what Theon would do, Sandor had bound his wrists and ankles so tightly it was a fifty-fifty chance that the fucking traitor would lose his hands and feet from the ropes alone. No, she was worried about what she would find when she finally walked through those massive gates and saw her home again. Would it look the same as when she left? Would Winterfell still feel like home? Would she even know anyone inside the castle?

As they had emerged from the woods flanking the King's Road, they were met by a force of fifteen mounted men, all armed with lances. Each and every one of those lances were leveled at them. From three of the lances hung the banners of her house. A gruff looking man who appeared to be slightly than her father would have been eyed the four of them before speaking. He said:

"State your names and your business here or breathe your last."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Sandor about to tell the man to go fuck himself. That would not do any good for their prospects of survival. Speaking up before he could, Arya said:

"I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell. This is Sandor Clegane, of House Clegane. He's been my escort since we met in the Riverlands. He was bringing me home when we found these other two people."

Gesturing to Jeyne, who had been walking beside her and was now standing next to her horse Arya continued:

"This is Lady Jeyne Poole, the daughter of the late Lord Vayon Poole, Steward to my father, Lord Eddard Stark. She was fleeing from a forced marriage to the Bastard of Bolton."

Pointing at Theon, who was tied across Sandor's horse behind his saddle looking for all the world like an oversized bedroll, she said with venom dripping from her voice:

"And that is the traitor and murderer Theon Greyjoy. He had been captured by the Boltons and escaped. We've captured him again and are bringing him to answer for his crimes before my brother."

Through her entire explanation, the lances never wavered, though she saw a few of the men glance at each other when they heard her name. And when she pointed out Theon, more than one lance shifted from pointing at Sandor to pointing at Theon. These men wanted him dead just as much as she did.

The man who had first spoken to them had a deep frown on his face. When he answered, he spoke slowly as if he was weighing the importance of each word. The man said:

"You say that you're Lady Arya Stark? We heard that she was dead, killed along with her father in King's landing. How do I know that's who you really are? I don't doubt your word on who the big fucker is. Only one man in all the Seven Kingdoms has a face like that. What the fuck is Joffery's dog doing 'escorting' you to Winterfell? And I have no clue about these other two. You say that sack of slobbering shit tied to the horse is Theon Greyjoy? Theon is a young man, no more than twenty. That fucker looks to be in his sixties."

Before she could reply, Sandor spoke up and said:

"Doesn't really matter if you believe her though does it, you dumb cunt? She's claimed to be Arya Stark, your Princess and the sister of your King. If she's lying, she'll get thrown back out of the castle pretty damn fast, probably after getting whipped bloody. But if she's not lying, and her brother finds out you sent her away, how long do you think it'll take the King in the North to run his sword up your arse?"

Speaking up again, Arya said:

"And who are you anyway? We've told you who we are, but you haven't returned the courtesy. If you're the best guards that the North can offer to House Stark, I think Jon should be looking askance at his bannermen. Not to mention getting some new guards to replace you once your heads are on spikes."

Grunting at their response, the guardsman nodded towards Sandor and said:

"You know Hound, most people figure you to be nothing more than a dumb lump of muscle. But you actually have a brain buried in that burned face of yours, don't you?" Pointing at Arya, the man continued saying, "And she's a right little spitfire, isn't she? Alright, you've told me your names and your business. I'll escort you up to Winterfell and let The Stark decide what to do with you. If you're lying, I expect I'll see your heads decorating spikes by the end of the day. Oh, and my name is Osric Wull. My father is The Wull of Black Pine."

With that, the mounted guard wheeled their horses and surrounded them. One of the men stretched his hand out and pulled Jeyne up into the saddle in front of him. At least the poor girl wouldn't have to walk any further. She hadn't realized when they first met in the forest, but Jeyne's arms and legs were torn by briars and her feet were swollen and ripped in places where her slippers had failed to protect her. When the man put his arms around her to hold her steady in the saddle and control his mount, she saw Jeyne flinch at the man's touch. That was something to talk to her about latter. Something very bad must have happened to her in the years since Arya last saw her in King's Landing to make her act like that.

As they began to ride at a canter towards the towering walls of Winterfell, Arya felt the tension within her increasing with every yard they traveled. Would Jon recognize her? Would she still recognize Jon? Would they still be as close as they once were? Would Jon let her be herself or would he try and force her to be someone she wasn't? Her nerves were starting to get the better of her and the idea of turning and running crossed her mind a time or two. She still had that Braavosi coin Jaqen H'ghar had given her. She could leave right now, ride hell for leather to White Harbor and take the first ship she spied that was sailing for Braavos. Each time the thought rose in her mind, she fought it off as the notion of a silly girl. Jon was her brother. Winterfell was her home. And she was going home.

Eventually, their party rode through the massive outer and inner gates of Winterfell. Arya felt a lump in her throat. Home. She was home at last. The courtyard was bustling with activity, almost exactly as she had remembered it from the last time she saw it before riding south with her Father and Sansa. As Arya entered the castle, another group was leaving. They looked like Ironborn, but they were under guard and manacled. That group was being led by a stern faced and foul smelling man dressed all in black. A Man of the Watch, maybe? Within the castle, she saw smallfolk going about their appointed duties while men-at-arms drilled with their weapons. She could smell the brewery making a batch of ale while on the wind was a faint hint of roasting meat, venison maybe. From one direction, her ears caught the sound of a hammer ringing on steel as something was being made at the forge. From the other, she could hear chisels chipping away at stones to repair one of the buildings. The Broken Tower or First Keep maybe? Both were in that direction.

In front of her, there was a man wearing a breastplate of boiled leather over a coat of ringmail. Osric Wull called out to the man as they entered and said:

"Derrock! Go get The Stark! Tell him there's a girl here claiming to be his sister, Arya. I'm sure he'll want to know right away."

The man replied, "Right away, My Lord."

While the guard ran towards the Great Hall, Osric turned back to face her and said:

"Well, now we'll learn the truth won't we, little lady? Last chance to come clean. If you're not who you say you are, you can go right back out through those gates and no harm will come to you. Because if you're not Arya Stark, I doubt the King will be in a forgiving mood."

Arya smiled icily at the man. "I'll wait here for my brother."

From her right, she heard Sandor mutter under his breath, "Dumb cunt," again. It was quite frankly amazing that the man was still alive. Of course, he was very good at killing, so that probably explained it.

After telling Osric that she would wait for her brother, Arya dismounted from her garron and stretched her limbs. She hated how stiff she got after riding for long periods of time. What if she needed to use her sword? She'd be too stiff to wield it properly. Not that she had ever been able to fully learn how, not after Syrio had been killed. Of course, the long rides never seemed to bother Sandor, but he had enough brute strength that it probably didn't really matter. Gods, she thought. Winterfell really was big. How long had it been since that runner had left to go get Jon? Twenty minutes? Thirty? How much longer would she have to wait to see her brother?

At last, she saw him. He was taller than the last time she had seen him and his frame had filled out considerably. He was that curious mix of being both well muscled while still retaining his lean and lithe appearance. He had also grown a beard. Most striking of all though, was seeing Jon wearing the Stark sigil beautifully embroidered on his doublet of grey wool trimmed in white satin. He had been denied that sigil all his life. Now, he wore it as his own. He was her brother in name now, as he had always been her brother by blood.

Arya called out to him, "Jon!" And took off running towards him. She practically tackled him when then reached each other. Jon was laughing and crying while he held her tight. She saw the tears running down into his beard. They matched her own, as she felt the tears running hot and wet down her cheeks.

Finally Jon stepped back, but kept his hands on her shoulders. Jon had such a smile on his face, she thought his head would split open. Judging by the way the muscles in her own face felt, she was pretty sure his grin was matched by her own.

Jon then said to her, "Look at you, little sister! I thought you were dead. No one had any idea what happened to you after Father died. But look at you! You look good. Are you healthy?"

Arya replied, "No, I'm not dead yet. Almost, a few times. I'm well, no complaints. Well, maybe one. I'm cold." she said with a grin. "I'm not used to the cold up here anymore."

"Aye, well, you'll get used to that again in no time. I have the opposite problem. Winterfell can feel a bit warm for me at times. After three years of ice at the Wall, the heated walls of home feel like a kiln. How did you ever make it all the way back to Winterfell without anyone knowing you were alive, little sister?"

"It's a long tale. Not one that can all be told here in the courtyard. Jon, The Hound brought me home."

Jon's face immediately clouded and his voice hardened. When he spoke, there was suspicion in his voice. He said "Joffery's dog? Why would he bring you here? Why not return you to King's Landing? Surely the Lannisters would have given him a massive reward for you."

Hearing the suspicion in her brother's voice cut Arya deeply. Didn't Jon believe her? Why would he suddenly doubt why she was home? The coin from Braavos called her name again. Again, she crushed the impulse. This was her brother. Of course he'd be suspicious of Sandor. The man had been Joffery's sworn shield. That was all the reason Jon needed to be suspicious of the man. However a small quiet voice from deep within told her, don't forget that Jon is a bastard. Having any of Father's other children show up could threaten his position. She roughly told that voice to shut up. Jon had been a bastard. He was a Stark now.

Grabbing both of Jon's hand tightly in her own, Arya said, "Jon, it's me. You're my brother. And my King. Will you trust what I tell you?"

Jon nodded and Arya continued, "The Hound brought me here because he ran from the Battle of the Blackwater. He told Lord Tyrion 'Fuck the King.' Jon, he betrayed the Lannisters. If he brought me to King's Landing, he would have lost his head."

Arya paused for a moment and when she continued, there was a hitch in her voice. She said:

"He tried bringing me to Robb. We...we tried to meet with him at the Twins. Jon, I saw what the Boltons and Freys did to Robb's body. They cut off his head, tied him into his saddle and sowed Grey Wind's head where Robb's used to be. They were parading him around the castle yard like some kind of sick trophy. We can't let them get away with that. We cant."

When Arya told Jon about what had been done to Robb, she saw the blood rise in Jon's face until he was almost beet red. When he spoke, the rage was plain his voice. Through clenched teeth Jon said:

"They won't, little sister. We will kill them all. When we are through with them there will be nothing left of their Houses but blood and bones. Anyone who hears their names will shudder in terror and remember what House Stark does to traitors and murderers."

With that, Jon made a visible effort to collect himself and not let his anger rule his head. He gave Arya a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and said:

"Well lets go talk to The Hound, shall we? I'm sure he's expecting a 'reward' for your safe return?"

"Ransom, more like. But yes, he is."

"He's got balls, I'll say that for him. He's got to know that I could have him cut down in an instant." Suddenly, Jon looked very chagrined and glanced down at Arya and continued, "Damn it, I'm sorry Arya. I shouldn't talk like that in front of you."

Grinning, Arya told him, "Fuck that. After months of riding with Sandor I've heard far worse than that and can probably curse more fluently than you. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You're right. You're not. Come on. Let's get this business with The Hound over with and then you can tell me all about what's happened to you over the last three years. I'll wager that you've got just as many stories as I do. And probably not many that are very pleasant."

"No, not many. But we're both still here and our stories aren't over yet."

"They're not. So let's make them good ones from here on out, eh?"

By that time, they had reached Sandor. It was then that Arya had her "oh shit" moment. She had completely forgotten to tell Jon that they had captured Theon! But before she could say anything, Jon had already called out to Sandor. Jon said:

"Hound! I understand that I have you to thank for the safe return of my sister?"

"That's right," he replied. "And a right pain in the ass she was too. How the fuck did any of you deal with her growing up?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Arya and I got along just fine. You must be thinking of Sansa. I assume that you'll be wanting a reward for her safe return?"

"No, I wasn't thinking of the bloody Little Bird. That one right there standing next to you is the one I mean. And yes, it is what's customary after all. It wasn't exactly easy getting her all the way from the Crownlands to here without getting caught. We came damn close to getting caught up in the Red Wedding at the Twins, then we got spoted at the Crossroads Inn in the Riverlands. And we had to sneak through those fucking swamps down in the Neck. Shit, I still smell like rotting bog. Not to mention that we had to dodge the fucking Ironborn and the Boltons."

"From all that, it sounds like only a miracle could have brought you here safely. A miracle, or a deal with Tywin Lannister."

"Fuck the King. Fuck the Lannisters. We're standing here because we're good at killing. Very good at it, actually."

"We're good at killing?"

"Aye," Sandor replied. Pointing at Arya, he continued, "That one is a right little she-devil. She killed more than I did on our trip north. Scary little fucker too."

Jon was giving her a look. It was a mixture of surprised and appraising. She found it hilarious. She told him:

"What? You're the one who gave me the sword. Don't look so surprised that I've actually learned how to use it."

"Guess I'll have to star looking at you as a woman grown, won't I little sister?"

"For a start."

Jon grinned at that. This was the brother she remembered. Sandor cleared his throat and said:

"If we could get back to the subject at hand. It's fucking cold up here and I'd like to find a nice fire to warm up in front of instead of standing around outside like a great fucking idiot. I want a reward for the safe return of your sister."

Sandor then took a few steps back and grabbed Theon's hair and roughly yanked the bastard's head up before saying:

"And I want a reward for this fucker. I understand you've been wanting to see his head on a spike for quite awhile."

Jon walked over to the horse that Theon was tied over. He looked at Theon, then glanced at quizzically at Sandor. He said:

"Would you mind telling me who the fuck this is and why I should want him dead? Because I don't recognize him."

Before Sandor could reply, Arya quietly said, "Jon, that's Theon."

Jon's eyes grew wide in shock and anger. At the same time, his hands closed into fists. Before anyone could even blink, Jon spun around and slammed his gauntleted fist into the side of Theon's head, cruely snapping his head to the side. His head jerked so suddenly at the impact that Sandor actually ripped out a chunk of Theon's hair where his fist had been holding his head up. One of Jon's hands then closed around Theon's throat and started to squeeze. Jon put his mouth right next to Theon's ear and told him in the most menacing voice she had ever heard her brother use:

"I hope you're pleased with yourself you murderous piece of shit. The deaths of Robb, Bran, Rickon and everyone that lived here and raised your miserable squid ass are all laying at your feet. When you see him in hell, tell your father that by the time the North is done with those shit stained islands you call home, the Ironborn that are left will quake in fear at the mere mention of the North."

Theon's eye's were bugging out of his head and his mouth was opening and closing spastically as he struggled to breathe. It looked like he might have been trying to say something, but Jon had his throat crushed too tightly in his hand. Deciding she needed to say something, Arya said:

"Jon. Right after we caught him, he said that he didn't kill Bran or Rickon. He said it was 'only' two farm boys."

Looking at her in surprise, Jon exclaimed, "What?!" As quickly as he had started to throttle Theon, Jon released him. Arya could hear Theon desperately trying to breath between sobs. Much as he did in the Wolfswood when he was captured and she had her blade at his throat, Theon started blubbering:

"I didn't kill them...Didn't kill them...Didn't kill them..."

"Oh, shut up," Arya told him scornfully. "For fuck's sake, you cry more than a girl. Were you always such a craven piece of shit?"

Once again Sandor butted in. He said:

"Before you all get into who killed who here, there's still the matter of my reward. Cause if I don't get it, I'm liable to start killing. And I like killing."

Several of the guardsmen put their hands on their swords and took a step or two forward at hearing that. Jon waved them down. He told the Hound:

"You're right. We do have business to conduct. You deserve a reward for the safe return of my Sister and for the capture of Theon Greyjoy."

Sandor interrupted again. "Not just them." Pointing to Jeyne, who up to know had remained in the background, he said, "That's Jeyne Poole. As I understand it, she's the daughter of the Late Vayon Poole. He was your father's Steward, wasn't he? I figure I should get a reward for her as well."

Jon motioned Jeyne to come forward. He wasn't her brother now. In this moment, he looked for all the world like Father. He wore what she thought of as the "Lord's face" as Jeyne timidly approached him. When he spoke to her it was not unkindly, but it was also with a tone that would brook no argument or deceit. Jon asked her:

"What's your name, girl?"

"Jeyne Poole, Your Grace."

"You look a bit like I remember. But there are probably a thousand girls in King's Landing that would look like her. How'd you end up back in the North when the rest of my Father's Household was put to the sword?"

"I was captured by one of the Kingsguard, Your Grace. They kept me in a room with your sister, Sansa. At least at first. But then some men of the City Watch came and brought me to Lord Baelish. I was to be given over to his 'care.' He...he forced me to become a whore."

Jeyne started to cry. Arya's heart went out to her. This must be humiliating for her. She wanted to rush over and protect Jeyne and tell Jon to bugger off. But she couldn't. Jon had to ask, no matter how distasteful it was.

Jon spoke up and said, "I know this is hard for you. And I'm sorry for that. But I have to know. Can you continue, or do you need to take some time and tell me your tale in private?"

Still sniffing, Jeyne said, "I'll continue, Your Grace. If I stop now, I don't know if I'll be able to start again. While I was a prisoner in King's Landing, Lord Baelish had me beaten, whipped and raped. He would have men use my mouth and my arse. And if I refused or attempted to stop them, I would be whipped until I was bloody and then I would be raped anyway.

"When he felt that I was sufficiently 'trained,' he sold me to the Boltons and told them I was Lady Arya, Your Grace. Lord Bolton forced me to marry his son, Ramsay. He...he raped me that night. Ramsay forced Theon to help him. But Theon saved me, Your Grace. He buried a knife in Ramsay's neck and ripped his throat out. And he helped me flee from the Dreadfort and reach Winterfell. I would still be a captive of Ramsay if he hadn't done that, Your Grace."

During her tale, Jon's face had displayed a range of emotions. It showed everything from rage, to sadness, to shock to relief. When he spoke, Arya could hear the emotion in her brother's voice. He said:

"I am truly sorry to hear what happened to you, My Lady. Though I am glad that at least one of those who harmed you has paid for that. However, I do have just one more question. I need you to tell me some things that only someone who had lived in Winterfell would know. I need to know it's really you."

"I used to call Lady Arya, 'Arya Horseface' and the guards called her Arya Underfoot. The Master of Horse was Hullen, your father's brewer was Barth. The kennelmaster was Farlen. Lady Stark's septon was named Chayle and the cook was named Gage." Pointing to a set of windows in the lower levels of the Great Keep she said, "Those were the rooms where my father and I lived. And there is where we practiced our needlework," she finished pointing to another set higher up.

Jon gave the poor girl a warm smile, took her hands in his own and told her, "Welcome home, Lady Jeyne. We'll get you inside in just a moment." Redirecting his attention to Sandor, Jon said, "Hound, I'm satisfied with the identity of everyone here. I'll give you three hundred dragons for Lady Poole, five hundred for Theon and a thousand for my sister. That's eighteen-hundred dragons for your troubles and as a sign of my thanks."

"Piss on that. I want five hundred for the Steward's daughter, a thousand for the white-haired prick tied to my saddle and fifteen-hundred for your sister."

"I'll give you four hundred for Jeyne, seven hundred for Theon and twelve-hundred for my sister. That's more than fair. Hells, most knights and minor lords don't warrant a ransom that high. And Hound, I would advise you to think carefully on this. You're surrounded by my men and your odds of getting out of here alive are not very high should you demand too much."

"Fuck that, do you really think I'm afraid of dying, boy? But I'm not unreasonable. Throw another two hundred dragons in and we'll call it done."

"Done. I'll have your gold brought to you shortly." Jon turned to one of the servants in the yard and said, "Mychell, would you please bring some bread and salt from the kitchens?"

"At once, Your Grace," the man replied before running for the kitchens.

When the man returned with the ordered bread and salt, Jon offered it to Sandor who accepted it. It felt odd for Jon and Sandor to be haggling over how much to pay for her. She knew they would have to, but it still made her feel, well, almost dirty. She was broken out of her thoughts when Jon said:

"Lord Osric. Thank you for bringing my sister and Lady Poole safely into the castle. This will not go forgotten. Could you please have some of your men take that sniveling piece of shit tied to the Hound's horse and throw him into the deepest, darkest dungeon cell you can find? I need to finish my business with his sister before I deal with that.

"Aye, Your Grace. Lets go men. Aden, Anthor, grab that sack of shit and bring him with us."

Arya took one last look at Theon as he was carried away. She couldn't quite read his face, but he seemed strangely at peace. Once Theon was gone, Arya looked at Jon and asked:

"His sister?"

"Aye. Have I got a tale for you little sister." Looking over his shoulder at hearing foot steps approaching Jon said, "But perhaps you should hear it first hand from those that lived it." Jon paused again as a grizzled man with windburned skin and dark hair gone grey strode up to them. When Jon continued he said, "Arya, this is your Uncle, Ser Brynden Tully. He captured Asha and her men when he came North after the Red Wedding. He also brought Robb's wife with him."

The old man with the black fish sown on his surcoat looked her over with a critical eye before he said, "You've the look of your father. Though I can see a shadow of Cat in you as well. I'm pleased to meet you, niece. It brings me some small relief to see that not all of my niece's children have gone from this world."

Arya looked the Blackfish up and down as well. It was only when she realized that Jon was staring at her that she remembered her courtesies and gave her Uncle as shallow bow. But not before glaring at Jon with a look that screamed "we'll talk about this later," and said:

"I'm pleased to meet you, Uncle. My Lady Mother spoke to us often of your exploits."

"Yes, well, we'll have time to get better acquainted. I've promised to help your brother rid his land of the traitors and vermin that have overrun it and he's promised to help me take back Riverrun. So we'll have plenty of time together."

Turning to Jon, he said, "Your Grace, we should be getting back to the Great Hall to settle things with Lady Greyjoy."

"Aye, your right. Arya, why don't you come with me down to the vault? Thank the Gods father never showed Theon where that was. It went untouched when he took the castle. We'll get Sandor's gold and you can fill me in on what's happened to you since King's Landing and I'll tell you about the Wall and what happened beyond it."

"Beyond the Wall?!" Arya exclaimed.

"Aye, beyond the Wall. You won't believe half of it!"