Chapter 1- Missing

Pain.

That was her state of mind. Every morning, every night. Day after day, week after week, month after month, now officially year after year.

Arya couldn't take it anymore.

As if life hadn't been difficult enough. Her father was decapitated in a brutal car accident, and no one ever found who was responsible. She remembered her mother getting the phone call and the horrific pained scream she unleashed, which shattered her heart a thousand times over. His funeral had been only two weeks later, and she thought then that saying goodbye to her father would be the hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

By the Gods, she was wrong.

Then the war came. The stupid, pointless, totally avoidable war. The year was 1098 after the Targaryen conquest of Westeros, and she lived rather comfortably in the Kingdom of the North. That was until the war. There had been 200 years of peace in Westeros and Essos, all to be torn apart because people couldn't back down. The Coalition of Narrow Sea nations, which included the Six Kingdoms, the North, and New Valyria, were at war with the Great Dothraki Khalasaar. Fifty years ago, that would've been a quick war, and the Dothraki would've been no match for tanks, planes and high-grade weaponry. But the Dothraki had been changing. Industrialising. And if they fully industrialised, there would be no stopping them. They had already conquered all of central Essos. One of her earlier memories was the news that Slavers Bay had surrendered to the Dothraki, and it was absorbed into the Khalasaar. It didn't mean much to her then, but it set in motion the conditions which led to the war. Four years later they had pushed east to the mountains. Seven years after that they invaded New Valyria and seized Tolos. Six months after that, the war began. The Khalasaar was by far the biggest and most populated nation in the world, and was improving it's technology by the day. Tens of millions of soldiers were battling in western Essos, causing so much destruction it was hard to believe what the world was coming to.

But that didn't matter to her. She could care less if the Dothraki got the best army in the world, or if they collapsed into anarchy and civil war. It held no importance to her that New Valyria was crumbling just like the old one. She didn't care that her and her family had to prepare for an invasion of millions of Dothraki. She only cared about one aspect of the war.

Jon.

Jon had volunteered for the Northern army a few weeks after the war began, and was rapidly swept away to the front in Volantis, the most intense arena of the war. He had hardly had time to say goodbye, but there definitely been something wrong when he left. He looked dejected. His eyes could barely meet hers. His life had definitely been rough, no doubt in her mind. He had found out about his true heritage in her father's will, and believed his entire life had been a lie. She was the only one to offer him any support. Her mother had always neglected him, and Robb had long moved out. Sansa was kind, but still cold. She remembered how he wept when he found out that Ned Stark was not his father, and how she was the only one to comfort him. Everyone else was either too young to understand, or didn't care enough. She had gone into his room and saw him clutching a bottle of pills, kneeling on the floor, crying silently to himself while harshly berating himself in mumbled whispers. She dove on him, chucking the bottle across the room and cried with him for hours.

"My whole life is a lie…" he told her through shaky breaths. "I've got nothing left…"

She pulled out of the hug, and looked deep into his dark eyes, trying to give a reassuring smile.

"You've got me."

That was eight years ago now, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. Her and Jon had always been close, but after that day they became inseparable. They did everything together, eat, watch TV, work, laughed, cried, drank (but Arya's mother wasn't to know that). They did it all together.

While watching TV, flicking through the regular crap that was on daytime television, they occasionally came to the news, and the rising Dothraki Khalasaar was usually the main headline. Their arms race with the nations of Westeros and New Valyria was analysed and reanalysed by every journalist who had a voice. One day, they showed a report on the long awaited Dothraki naval base, containing one hundred ironclad ships, some of the best in the world. Apparently three more bases were under construction, and that within ten years the Dothraki fleet would be unrivalled on the sea. A Dothraki spokesperson had stated 'these ships are not meant for hostile intent, and the Khal will not use them to attack any other sovereign nation.'

"What are they being used for then? Fishing?" Jon joked, causing Arya to giggle.

"It's an impressive sight." Arya stated, as the report showed an overhead shot of the large fleet.

"The Dothraki have never had a navy in history. They've just conquered the Lionlands and are threatening eastern Valyria. And they expect us to believe they're not going to use their navy to invade across the Narrow Sea?"

Arya looked at Jon admirably. Jon had long been fascinated by the history of war. His knowledge and insight was unrivalled by anyone she'd ever met.

"Why would they want to conquer Essos? What's in it for them? No other nations have ever done it, or want to do it." She asked.

Jon laughed out loud, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"Two hundred years ago the Six Kingdoms controlled a third of the globe. At the same time the North was launching crusades past the wall in an attempt to gain all the lands of the Free Folk. Us and the Six Kingdoms sailed west, east and south, colonizing, stealing the riches of the lands we found and wiping out their native populations. I don't think we've particularly helped on the imperialist front."

She was mesmerised by him. The sound of his voice made her feel warm inside, and she found herself staring at his lips intensely. Her brain told her that it was because she was focusing on what he was saying, but her heart was saying something different.

"As for the Dothraki, they've been expansionist for hundreds of years, but limited by technologically superior neighbours." Jon took a nervous look back at the TV, which had now changed report to the upcoming royal wedding. "But that looks like it's changing."

Arya observed him intensely. He was worried, she knew he was. Everyone was worried. Things felt like they were escalating so quickly, and the threat of war loomed over them every day. But that didn't matter. She was there with him, just relaxing and enjoying his company. She thanked the Gods everyday for that.

Jon reached for the television remote, the affairs of the royal family not gripping his interests, but Arya had one more question.

"Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think there will be a war?"

He paused. His eye twitched. He scratched his beard.

"It does feel that way, doesn't it?" he replied nonchalantly, although is blatant worry was obvious to her. He'd always been a shit liar. His best attempt to keep her calm was appreciated, but all it did was communicate his own fear, and whatever scared him scared her.

She had no idea just what the future would hold.

More time passed. News reports were watched, hugs were had daily, laughs were had by the handful and chicken wings were eaten by the dozen. Life seemed so intact, so comfortable, so safe. Arya would reminisce on those days regularly. She would try to recreate them by herself, but to no avail. The news depressed her, there was no one to hug, laughter died in the house years ago, and the chicken wings felt too greasy. All the joy felt like it had been sucked out of the world.

Gods she missed him.

She remembered waking one night, six months before the war, to the sound of the TV. Looking at her clock, it was 4:30 in the morning. She groaned, annoyed at her sleep being disrupted. Getting out of bed, she walked to the living room, ready to lay the classic Arya smackdown on whoever had woken her from her slumber. Her eyes first rested on the TV, which was displaying the news headline: DOTHRAKI INVADE VALYRIA.

Her breath caught in her throat. War had seemed like a possibility, but it was never something she thought about a great deal, or even prepared for.

Jon was the sole inhabitant of the living room, his intense stare at the TV broken by the sound of her entering the room.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" he asked sheepishly, perhaps to distract himself from the horrors of war.

"I can't believe it." Arya stated, completely ignoring his question. "Is everyone too fucking stupid to realise that this will start a devastating war?"

"Obviously." His voice was gruff, as if he knew what he may be soon forced to do. "It's all still up in the air… maybe there will be a quick resolution."

He didn't sound sure.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Jon and Arya looked up to see Catelyn, who looked extremely tired and angry. Jon knew who would be paying the price for that. However, her eyes must've met the TV as well, as all prior expression was wiped from her face.

"By the Gods…" she whispered. She kept her eyes on the TV for another ten silent seconds, which to Jon, unsure where he stood at that moment, felt like an hour. "Arya, go to bed. Jon, stay." She ordered. Arya shot her a foul look, but obeyed. She gave Jon a kiss on the cheek before she turned to leave.

"We'll hang out later, okay?" she said, not sure whether she was stating or asking.

He only nodded in response.

Arya marched out of the room in a huff. Her mother was always breaking her and Jon up whenever she could. It was beyond infuriating.

But that didn't matter, there were clearly more important things happening. She was about to enter her bedroom, despite having no intention of going back to sleep, only for the conversation between her mother and Jon to grab her interest.

It was difficult to hear, but got clearer as edged back towards the living room door.

"– you have no idea what you're doing do you? Do you even care that she's – "

"– can't help it, what you're asking is not fair on her or me, please just – "

"– do it Jon, let her try and live a normal life if you really do – "

"– won't do it. You can't force me."

With that, she heard someone rise from the sofa and march towards the door. As quickly and silently as possible she ran towards her bedroom. She was small and light-footed, which greatly assisted in sneaking around. Jon stormed out and up the stairs to his room, Catelyn looking in dismay up at him from the doorway. The aging matriarch shook her head and muttered to herself before turning off the TV and retiring to her room for the remainder of the night.

"What did you and Mum talk about last night?" Arya asked the next evening, while her and Jon were watching some cooking show.

He gulped, and refused to make eye contact with her.

"Ummm… just about… me getting a job."

"Liar." She said immediately, slapping his hand.

"Ow!" He reacted in mock pain, which caused a giggle from her. He was the only person left in the world who could make her laugh.

"Come on, spill the beans." She asked again, his attempt at humour failing to change the subject. "I know that's not it because I heard some of the conversation."

Jon's head moved at lightning speed to meet her eyeline, and she could almost feel his heart rate skyrocket. He gulped again.

"H-how much did you hear?"

She was in awe. A stuttering Jon Snow was a brand new sight to her, and it was as amusing as it was unnerving.

"Just about something being unfair… what were you talking about to get you in a cold sweat?"

Jon let out a sigh of relief, but his facial expression made it clear he was still deeply stressed.

"Jon what's going on?" she was worried now. "You can tell me anything, absolutely anything. You know that… please tell me what's troubling you."

"It's nothing, really." He said quickly, not convincing anyone who would've heard it. "It's just about preparing for a potential war, that's all."

Arya arched an eyebrow.

"Preparing in what way?"

Jon had two choices: tell the truth, or lie. He knew the truth would both break her heart and ruin their close bond, and the lie would at best prolong their current arrangement.

"Well… with Robb moved out and me being the oldest man in the house, it would be my responsibility to keep everyone safe and make sure that we have invasion supplies and a working bomb shelter."

Arya looked into his eyes, trying her best to analyse whether or not he was lying. He didn't sound like he was, but she had a feeling he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Okay." She said blankly, turning her eyes back to the screen, her attention still on him. He didn't say anything else, but his eyes had watered slightly and he looked as if he hadn't had much sleep.

He was an enigma sometimes.

Two weeks later, Arya walked into the living room again, and found Jon in the middle of some kind of celebration dance.

"YES! YES! Take that, Catelyn! Shove it up your- "

"What are you doing?"

Jon stopped as he was mid-air-thrust, looking incredibly embarrassed and his usually pasty face turned red in a split second.

The TV was, as usual, turned on. 'PEACE IN OUR TIME' the headline read.

"What's happening?" she asked, moving closer to the centre of the room.

Jon snapped out of his prior embarrassment, jumping off the sofa which he was previously dancing like a lunatic on, grabbed Arya and twirled her round in his arms while she gave a joyful screech.

Her body was pressed close to his as she was twirled around in the air, her arms wrapped around his neck, and his around her waist. She felt the adrenaline rush through her as she felt his muscles against her small, but slightly curvy frame. She told herself it was the fact she was being spun through the air like some kind of roller coaster ride, but that wasn't true. She had felt this before, the butterflies in her stomach and anything of importance vanished from the world except him. The suppressed emotions would resurface in those kinds of moments.

Everyday it got harder to resist.

"They've made peace!" he said excitedly, putting her down so she could face the TV. On the screen the King in the North was stepping off an aeroplane waving the treaty in the air.

Arya looked back at Jon, who seemed ecstatic. He tackled her into a hug again, which made them both fall to the floor, with him landing on top of her. Their faces were only two or three inches away from the other. Their hearts were rapidly beating, and human instinct was taking over and beginning to cloud their judgment.

She knew it was wrong.

But she couldn't contain it anymore.

Just as their lips were slowly beginning to inch together, they were both distracted by something. A shadow fell over them both, and they quickly came to the realisation they were not alone.

Almost comedically, their heads moved to the source of the shadow slowly, as their bodies didn't move an inch.

To their horror, Catelyn stood over them, looking like she was about to explode with anger. Bran stood by her side, looking like he was about to explode with laughter.

"Woah." Bran said, his eyes wide and a naughty smirk on his face.

Jon had no idea how to make this situation appear innocent, and he knew getting up would still look incredibly suspicious. So, instead he just stayed locked rigid in position. After a few seconds, he realised that looked worse, and that staying still didn't actually make him invisible. Slowly, he rolled off of Arya, and stood up, trying his best not to make eye contact with Catelyn. His shoulders were hunched as he moved away from Arya and sat back down, pretending to watch TV.

This was easily the most awkward moment of her life.

Arya followed in Jon's footsteps, only stopping to decide whether or not to sit on the same sofa as Jon. She decided that not sitting on the same sofa would look too suspicious, but not to sit too close.

They shared an awkward glance, but it was only for a split second.

Catelyn was evidently fuming, but her self-contained rage spilled over when she saw the news headline. Physically unable to speak, she kicked over small glass table which shattered on the floor, startling everyone. Giving Jon a ferocious glare, which Jon met with a submissive glance. Catelyn stormed out, and everyone waited until her bedroom door had slammed until they even breathed.

Bran's eyes went from the smashed table to Jon and Arya, then back to the smashed table, then back to the dazed pair again. He gave them a sympathetic smile.

"I won't tell anyone." He said.

His promise was welcome, but lacked meaning. The person who wasn't supposed to know had seen it already.

Arya remembered how close she had come to one of her deepest and darkest desires, kissing Jon Snow. She knew how wrong it was, he was her cousin by blood, which made it socially unacceptable enough, but they had been raised under the guise they were brother and sister.

Even she knew that was bad.

But she didn't care.

She loved him.

As more time passed, Jon and her mother continued to argue. She saw the light fading from his eyes as each day went by, he became quiet, reclusive, and quick to anger. He started spending less time with her, and looked guilty every time he saw her. In hindsight, she should've seen what was happening. But she was too blinded by her feelings to see it for herself.

The political situation worsened. Turns out 'peace in our time' meant peace for about five minutes. In the treaty, the city of Tolos was supposed to be an international zone, which could be accessed by all signatories of the treaty. For two months, that was the case. But the Dothraki invaded and sacked the city, making it a part of the Khalasaar. War was inevitable at that point. There were hourly news broadcasts about the current situation, infomercials about what to do in the event of an invasion or during an air bombing, pro-alliance propaganda posters popping up everywhere, and the military was requesting volunteers to prepare for war.

The world felt like it was collapsing under it's own weight.

Her life had been so comfortable. She never thought it would ever end. Her life with Jon.

Eventually, it all broke into pieces.

'THE NORTH DECLARES WAR'

The headline struck her to her core. War. For the first time in 200 years.

If Jon's mood was bad before, it was terrible after. Bran and Rickon were given gas masks from their school, Robb moved back home to help protect the family, and Sansa's university course was put on hold for the duration of the war, forcing her to come back home as well. Everyone was downbeat, but there was a wartime attitude in the air – that they would make do with what they could get and do what they could for their country.

Catelyn seemed to be the only one happy about the current situation.

One night, the sound of arguing prevented anyone's sleep again. It wasn't unusual for that to happen, but this argument proved particularly pivotal.

"I can't take this anymore! Why can't you just accept it and move on?"

"You know why I can't! I've treated you like my son and you do this to my daughter?"

"You never treated me like your son! You've always hated me and that's why you want me to do this!"

Arya stuck her head out of her bedroom door to better hear the argument. It turns out that the argument was also particularly interesting to Robb, who's head was resting by the living room door.

"You ungrateful bastard! You will do your bit for this country whether you like it or not!"

"Why aren't you asking Robb to do this as well then? We're both adult men, why is it just me?"

"Because Robb is part of this family. You would tear this family apart."

Arya took a few steps out into the corridor.

"What's happening?" Arya whispered to Robb, making him jump slightly.

"It's complicated." He whispered back. "I think it would be better if you heard it from Jon."

"I can't leave her. You know I can't." Jon said, quietly this time.

"Yes you can. You've got one week. Do it, or you're out."

There was a long silence, only broken with a loud, yet shaky exhale from Jon.

"Fine. But I want you to know that she'll never forgive you for this."

"And I'll never forgive you for what you've done. And I mean it, be gone in a week or I'll chuck you out."

Jon opened the living room door, to find his 'brother' and 'sister' standing right in front of him. Robb, who had heard the whole conversation, looked at him sympathetically. Jon returned this look with a sad smile. Robb pulled him into a brief hug, before separating and continuing his sympathetic look. His glance moved from Jon to Arya, then back to Jon. He smiled knowingly.

"I just want you to know, I don't blame you. Or judge you."

Jon looked down at the floor.

"Thank you." He said quietly in return.

"You'll always be my brother."

Robb moved away, and looked between the two of them again, before winking at Jon and walking back upstairs to bed.

Catelyn stormed past the two of them, giving Jon a dirty glare, before she too retired upstairs.

Jon looked as if he was about to cry. His eyes were glistening with water in the faint moonlight, and Arya felt like crying as well. Everything had changed, and she felt like she was looking at the broken Jon she knew three years ago. She walked towards him and wrapped her arms around him. He bundled her up in his arms and wept silently for a good few minutes. She ran her hands through his hair, and he tightened his grip on her, as if she was going to vanish from the world if he let go. She felt that feeling again, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. The urge to kiss him was overwhelming, but she resisted.

"I need to talk to you." He said, his voice shaky and scared.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I… I… I have to leave…"

Her heart sank.

"W-what?" she felt her eyes tingle, as if she were about to cry.

"Your mother… she wants me gone. I'm going to… I have to…"

"Jon…" Arya already knew what he was going to say, but she hoped he wasn't going to say it. That her mind had gone to the wrong place. That he was only going to be moving a mile down the road, and she could see him every day, that the arguing would stop, and maybe, things would be okay. "Where are you going?"

Her heart was shattered by his response.

"I have to go to the war."

She gasped. Then she wailed. Then she screamed.

She buried her head into his chest and bawled, and he lost it at her response.

"Don't go Jon! Please!" she begged. "I can't be here without you!"

Jon, through his tears and shaky breaths, tried to comfort her.

"Shhh… I'll… I'll be able to write, and as soon as I come back, we can do whatever we want for the rest of our lives."

"What if you don't come back?"

Jon gulped. The war had been going on for a month, and a million people had already died. If that was any indication, his chances of survival was slim at best.

He would probably never see her again.

The next week passed quickly, but Arya rarely left Jon's side. If they were to never see each other again, they were going to spend all their time together while they could. Jon's application to the army was accepted, and he would be deployed to the front line after a brief training period.

The night before Jon left, Arya was having a hard time leaving his side. They were watching their favourite movies well into the early morning. Eventually, they had run out of things to watch. Arya looked deep into his eyes, and saw the sadness and fear they were radiating.

She had one chance to change his mind.

"Jon," she started, him turning to look at her with the same sad eyes. "Don't go."

He sighed.

"I have to. I don't have anywhere to go come tomorrow."

"We could run away together."

Jon looked at her curiously, wondering if she was serious.

Arya, unable to contain the raw passion she had for him any longer, inched closer to him, pulling his head closer to hers, their lips finally meeting after months of tension. They melded together perfectly, and Arya felt the world melt away. Jon returned her enthusiasm, as she moved on top of his strong chest, her hands running through his hair, his arms wrapped around her waist. He was tender and affectionate, but she felt his unreleased, animalistic passion as well.

Pulling away due to lack of air, their foreheads rested against each other, looking deep into each other's eyes.

"Don't go." She pleaded one last time. "We can go wherever we want. Let's just disappear together…"

Jon looked away, she could see him processing the offer. Genuinely considering it. Little did she know how badly he wanted to say yes. How he wanted to disappear to some unknown place and spend the rest of his life with her.

But it was far too late.

"I can't."

Those words rang in Arya's ears for years to come. She wished she could turn back time to try and convince him again, to go away with him, and let no one know where they were going.

Jon left the next morning. She had almost refused to let go of him. She gave him one last kiss before he left without saying a word. It didn't matter that he left silently. Nothing he could've said would've made it okay.

Arya broke down in tears as soon as the door shut. She collapsed to her knees and wept.

She was only disturbed by the sound of someone walking to the door from behind her. Turning her head, she saw her mother.

Then she saw red.

"You did this." She seethed, the anger boiling within her. "Why?"

Catelyn placed a hand on her youngest daughter's shoulder, but she shook it off, rising to her feet.

"Why?" she repeated, through gritted teeth.

"He had to go. He's not our family, and that's all that matters now. Family."

"HE WAS MY FAMILY!" Arya roared, the anger exploding like a bomb within her. "You pushed him away… he was my best friend… the only person I could trust. I- I love him…"

Arya pushed past her mother and towards her room, slamming the door.

Sansa shook her head from the landing.

"You did this to yourself." She called down to her mother, who looked up at her frustratedly. "She'll never forget this. She'll never forgive you."

"You know he was a burden on the family. He drained our resources, and corrupted your sister."

"She fell in love, she wasn't corrupted." Sansa replied bluntly. "If we get a message telling us he's dead… it's on you. You marched him into the grave."

The weeks passed, and Arya's soul withdrew from her body. She felt empty, cold, and alone.

So words couldn't describe how excited she was when she received the first letter from him.

Bran had given it to her, and she had rather rudely slammed the door on him and jumped on her bed in excitement. It had been nearly a month since he had left, and she'd heard nothing.

Until that day.

Tearing open the envelope, she recognised his carefully crafted handwriting, and began to read it eagerly.

Dear Arya,

I hope you're doing well. I don't have a lot of time to write this letter, it's been very full on here. I'm about two miles outside Volantis, and we're doing our best to defend the city. The Dothraki are launching wave attacks almost daily to try and take the city. We've been mostly successful so far, but not without a significant cost to life. I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you, you never know if this will be intercepted in some way.

I miss you every day, and as soon as I come home (and I promise I will), we can go back to the way things were. I swear.

Sending my best to everyone back home,

Jon

P.S. you can reach me using the return address on the envelope.

She waited a month for that?

She felt incredibly underwhelmed. It was good to hear from him, but it was an unemotional, short message given the time they'd spent apart and how close they'd been.

And how close they both wanted to be.

Despite being unsatisfied with Jon's letter, she immediately sent a response.

Dear Jon,

Thank you so much for writing. I'm glad you did. Life's been hard here without you, and I miss you so much. It sounds like you're having quite the adventure in Essos. Promise me you'll keep yourself safe!

I'm looking forward to seeing you again, hopefully one day soon.

Please write back soon,

Arya

Arya reviewed her penmanship, and was dissatisfied with it. She wondered if this was how Jon felt when he wrote his letter. She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the words to say it. Reluctantly, Arya sealed the letter in an envelope and posted it to Jon.

It continued like this for a number of months. Poorly written letters which lacked emotion or information. It was almost hard to believe that these were the messages between people who had once been inseparable. Jon wrote whenever he could, but the constant threat to Volantis kept him busy most days. He would sometimes recount his experiences on the battlefield, the smell of blood and shit that permeated through the air, the adrenaline that soared through his veins, the longing to see another day. She could tell from his words that he was breaking more and more every time he wrote.

She tried to support him in her replies, the only thing that still tied them together was the promise they would see each other again.

A promise which hung in a delicate balance.

About 18 months after Jon left, Arya heard a knock on her bedroom door. Opening it, she came face to face with Robb, who looked crestfallen.

"What's wrong?" Arya asked, sensing his mood.

"Come and see." Robb said, trying his best to be strong. He motioned to the living room, and Arya followed his lead.

She was met with yet another news headline, but this one made her heart sink.

'VOLANTIS FALLS TO DOTHRAKI'

Arya never thought two words could generate as much fear and stress as they did. Listening to the report, it claimed their weren't many survivors. The Dothraki had broken the coalition lines and sacked the city. The Dothraki weren't big on taking prisoners.

"I'm so sorry." Robb said, wrapping his arm around Arya's shoulders.

"We don't know anything yet." she offered an unemotional response, especially given the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling on the inside.

As if on cue, she heard a letter fall through the letterbox. Arya, needing to move, left the room to get the letter. She picked it up and her heart leapt into her throat.

She recognised the army seal and the typewriter style lettering.

Ripping it open, Arya's world completely collapsed at the words in the centre of the page, written in bold and red.

'STATUS: MISSING IN ACTION – PRESUMED DEAD'

Arya let the letter fall to the floor. She could hardly breathe. The emotions were threatening to boil over. She felt her eyes water, and her knees tremble. She slowly fell to the floor, and covered her head in her hands. Then she screamed, a pained scream which reminded her of her mother when she found out her father had died.

Robb bolted into the hallway, and ran straight to his little sister. The letter on the floor caught his eye, and he too saw the words which caused Arya so much distress. It was too much for him too. He fell to the floor and embraced her, and they cried together.

Jon was family to them.

The worst thing about the letter itself wasn't the news it gave or the lack of information it offered. It was how cold and systematic it was. It offered no support, no guidance, no condolences. It had clearly been printed on mass, and had his name slapped on afterwards.

It was like he didn't matter.

The news eventually reached the rest of the family who all experienced a similar reaction. They cried, they screamed, they cried some more. But no one was as upset as Arya.

When Catelyn found out, Arya had been there to witness it.

She was the reason Jon had left.

She was the reason Jon was dead.

Catelyn had turned white as a sheet, and an emotion that Arya couldn't quite recognise was painted on her face. It wasn't sadness per say, but it was something along those lines. But Arya didn't care.

She was furious.

"You did this." She growled, causing everyone's hair to stand up on end. "You threw him out like some common dog, treated him like he was nothing, and now… he's dead."

She stood up, ready to strike with a signature anger only she could accomplish.

"And it's all your fault. ALL YOUR FAULT!" she flipped the dining table, causing anything on it to fly in random directions across the kitchen, smashing and bouncing around like a bomb had gone off.

When gravity had finished pulling the aerial objects back down to the ground, Arya's eyes were locked with her mother's. Tears were falling down her face, but she wasn't sure if it was out of rage or sadness.

"Arya, I – " Catelyn began.

"Don't. Just don't." Arya marched out of the kitchen, as the flurry of tears returned for the tenth time that day. She made it across the hall into her bedroom before she collapsed onto her bed and cried.

She cried for the rest of that day.

And the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

After a week, she was out of tears, and suffering greatly from dehydration. But it didn't change how she felt. If there were tears to cry, they would be shed.

Arya was brought out of her daze at the sound of the doorbell. Lifting herself out of bed, she stumbled towards the door. She looked a state, her eyes were red and puffy, her clothes dishevelled and dirty, her hair tangled and messy. Either way, she opened the door to an elderly man in an army uniform.

"Good afternoon, madam." He greeted, taking in her appearance. His facial expression became sympathetic quickly, indicating to her the reason he was there. He produced a cardboard box from behind him. "These are the contents we retrieved from the locker of Jon Snow." Arya's heart rate doubled instantly. "We are very sorry for your loss." He added.

The old man handed Arya the box. It wasn't heavy, as Jon didn't take much with him. She thanked him, and he turned around and hobbled towards a van parked at the end of the driveway.

Was this his job? To bring the belongings of the dead back to their families?

Seemed like a soul destroying job.

Taking the box back to her room, she opened it and began sorting through his stuff.

There was a spare uniform, two badges and a revolver on top of some assorted other things. Arya took them out and placed them on her desk. She looked at the revolver a second time, and decided to place it in the shoebox under her bed.

Just in case.

Looking back into the box, she pulled out a small stack of photos that Jon had taken with him. She looked lovingly through the photos, reminiscing on old times. Tears she didn't know she still had began to fall. There were family photos, and a few photos of Jon and her brothers, including one with Jon holding Rickon on the day he was born. But an overwhelming majority of pictures were of him and Arya. Tears were now falling heavily, remembering the man she loved more than life itself, lost to her forever.

There were a few other miscellaneous bits and bobs, which held no value other than sentimental or military.

But it was what she found at the bottom of the box that made her heart stop.

There was an unsent letter, dated from the first week of his deployment, addressed to her.

With shaky hands, she opened the letter and began to read Jon's final message.

Dear Arya,

I've tried to write this letter so many times already, but I don't know what to say. It's so complicated. We were raised together, then became best friends, and I can't believe it took only a week of separation from you for me to realise how I really feel.

I so wish I had taken your offer. We should've just run away together. Gone anywhere. Sailed across the Sunset Sea to the Land of Liberty or the Frozen Island, or settled in the mountains of eastern Essos. I'll never regret something as much as I do leaving you behind without telling you the truth.

I love you, Arya Stark.

I feel like I've always loved you. Ever since the day you were born, I remember how cute you were and the way you reached out for me as a baby. We were always all I had. I never should have left, I should've stood up for myself and for you when Catelyn tried to separate us.

I don't know when or if I'm coming back. I wish I could come back now and whisk you away, but I can't. If I desert, I get executed. If I die, I never come back. If I come back, that means the war is over. I've been here for one week, and I don't think this war is ending anytime soon.

Please don't blame your mother, it's not her fault. It must be hard for her to lose her husband, and have his 'bastard son' fall in love with her daughter. She only wants to protect you.

I shouldn't send this letter.

I don't even know if you feel the same… I hope you do…

But what does Jon Snow know?

But if I do send this, I want you to know how much I love you, and how sorry I am.

Until we meet again,

Jon

Arya's tears dropped onto the paper, she was barely able to read the end of the letter. Bringing the letter to touch her heart, she curled up into a ball and cried even more.

She never got the chance to tell him how much she loved him too.

And now, she thought she'd never get the chance.

She thought.

But far across the Narrow Sea, in a tiny rowing boat flowing down a river, a hundred miles behind enemy lines, was Jon Snow.

Who was very much alive.

TO BE CONTINUED