For once I've updated after less than three weeks – I wouldn't get used to it, if I were you. I'm sorry that it's a few days later than I was hoping, but on Thursday (the day I was planning to publish this chapter), a close friend of mine was stabbed on his way home from school, so I've been too busy until today to update. We received confirmation that he's okay, Thank God, and so I'm finally able to present chapter 3. Enjoy!

Arya I

Exactly one month after the announcement of the Royal Visit, the market had come to White Harbour. Mayhaps the two events are connected, Arya thought as she played with a sharp dagger on display, watching servants from Winterfell gather the food and spices needed for the visit.

"Arya, no! Don't touch that!" Sansa snatched the dagger from her sister and placed it back carefully, apologising profusely to the stall owner before turning back and sneering, "what kind of lady plays with daggers? If you do that in front of the King and Queen, Mother will have your head!" The next time Robb and Jon leave me alone with her, I will murder the three of them as they sleep.

Arya sneered right back at her sister. "I'm not a lady, at least not a boring one like you!" She quickly ran in the opposite direction, only to feel her sister yank on her hand.

"Stop making a scene or I'll tell Mother!" Arya scoffed at Sansa's lame attempt at threatening her, but moved away from the crowds nonetheless. "I mean it Arya, I will."

"Do it then, see if I care." By now the girls were out of the market and near the trees. The dark-haired girl turned around quickly, hearing a branch snap nearby. "Shut up, you fool," She hissed quietly as Sansa continued her threats. "Can you hear that?"

"Only you because you can't keep your mouth shut." Sansa snapped back, before stopping to hear the noises herself. "Is that humming?"

Arya crept forward quickly, careful to not make a sound. "I think it's singing. Come on, I want to look!" She grabbed Sansa's arm and pulled her into the trees, the musical voice growing louder with each step.

"The ones who'd been gone for so very long,

She couldn't remember their names

They spun her around on the damp old stones,

Spun away all her sorrow and – who's there?"

Even Arya, who found beauty as useful as a blunt sword, stared in awe at the young women in front of her. She was clearly of noble birth, wearing a light silk dress with embroidery, a garment so precious that even Sansa did not possess such a thing. Her hair was the palest silver Arya had ever seen, and the pale skin reminded her of the thick snow she remembered had fallen during the last winter. She was petite, shorter than both Stark girls, and her features were delicate and gentle, but her violet eyes held a dangerous passion within them that took both girls off-guard.

What surprised Arya even more than the appearance of this stranger, however, was the fact that she wore no furs to cover her bare shoulders and only a small pair of sandals, as though she had intended to travel to Dorne and made a mistake.

"Please forgive us, my lady." Sansa apologised at once, ever the perfect daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. "We did not mean to intrude, we just heard your singing and my sister wanted to investigate."

Arya glared daggers at her sister, but the silver lady only laughed lightly. "That is understandable, no need for any apologies."

"Where are you from?" After her interruption, Arya could not help but feel uneasy as those unusual eyes gazed back at her. "I only meant that I have never seen anyone with your hair or eye colour before in the North, I doubt you are from here."

The lady thought for a moment. "You are right. My family is from Volantis, I moved to Westeros as a child. I am glad by brother wanted to visit this market before we travel further, it is quite beautiful – though I fear I am lost." She laughed warmly and looked between the two sisters briefly, eyeing the high quality of the fur draped over their shoulders. "You two, on the other hand, seem to know exactly where you are. Are you far from home?"

"They're not, but you are."

All three girls whirled around to face the man who had spoken, but his dark eyes were fixed only on the unknown woman as he smiled, showing yellowing teeth with many missing. Arya walked closer to him and the woman, but – to her utter shock – Sansa grabbed her hand and shook her head silently, her eyes flickering to the man's hand, where Arya could see a glint of steel.

A dagger.

"Now I don't want trouble with you two." The man began, stalking towards the young lady. "So how about you turn around, go back home and pretend none of this has happened." Before Arya could protest or think of a plan, the young woman nodded at her, silent permission for the two girls to leave her.

Hands still clasped together, the girls took a step back. Almost immediately, the man had grabbed their companion by the throat and held the dagger against it. "That's it, keep going."

She's not even frightened, Arya thought in awe. She is about to die and yet she is not frightened, I will not be either. I am Arya Stark – wolves do not cry. Sansa, on the other hand, had tears dripping down her pretty face as they reached a safe distance away and turned their backs. They could still hear the woman's – or mayhaps she was a girl, she must have been younger than both Robb and Jon – high voice murmur a foreign prayer, and the murderer's hissed promise to "send your pretty head right back to the King." There was the sharp sound of steel hitting bone, a dull thud, and silence.

Arya willed herself not to cry as her sister was, silently begged herself no to feel fear as she heard the man creeping up behind her slowly, and she did not flinch when his hand touched her shoulder. "Don't turn around Arya."

Robb?

Both girls hugged their brother as he came into view; in response, he pulled them tight against him and kissed their heads gently. "Theon, clean that up before they turn around." Once the Stark ward confirmed any trace of the body was gone, Arya turned slowly, preparing herself to see no one else in the clearing.

Instead, she saw her father's sword, Ice, laid on the ground, its Valyrian steel blade coated in blood, while the silver lady stood nearby, rubbing her throat – Arya felt sick as she saw the dark bruises already forming there – before smiling lightly at the two girls. "You did the right thing, well done. Would I be correct to assume you all know each other?"

Before Arya could answer, Robb was at the girl's side, offering her water from his own flask, which she accepted gratefully. The little girl couldn't help but giggle at how Robb's large frame dwarfed the small woman in front of him. "My lady, I apologise for you having to witness such a thing. I hope I did not frighten you too much." His younger sister rolled her eyes as the heir to Winterfell kissed the stranger's hand politely. Show off.

"It's alright Sir, please do not apologise for saving my life. Forgive me, I do not know your name?" She reddened ever so slightly under Robb's intense gaze, yet she seemed incredibly calm for a woman in her position.

"I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell." She jumped in, when it became clear that Robb was too captivated by this strange woman to answer. "That's Robb, Lord Eddard Stark's heir, and this is my sister Sansa." The red-haired girl managed a watery smile, which the lady responded to warmly. Her violet eyes glanced up at Robb as she curtseyed to him gracefully, a new respect in her voice as she spoke.

"I thank you again for saving my life Lord Stark, I fear I may never be able to repay you."

"You don't have to." Robb replied immediately, pulling off his furs. "Take this, you'll catch your death dressed like that up here." The girl began to protest, but soon allowed Arya's brother to drape the cloak over her, hugging it tighter around her shoulders as it drowned her tiny frame.

"Thank you again, my Lord, and I am very glad you are both safe." She spoke softly to them all, her throat clearly causing her more discomfort than she would admit to. "I must be getting back now; my brother will worry if I do not return quickly." She quickly denied any of Robb's requests to escort her back to her relatives.

"Why did the man tell you he'll send your head to the King?" Arya blurted.

"May I at least know you name?" Robb asked at the same time.

She looked straight at Arya with her unnerving eyes and smiled grimly. "I do not know, child – I am of no importance to King Rhaegar." She turned to Robb and, to everyone's surprise, stretched up on her tiptoes to lightly kiss his cheek, the young man's cheeks flushing as soon as her lips made contact with his skin. "Do not ask for my name, I am sure we will meet again soon." With one last smile, she turned on her heel and was gone.

OoOoO

Arya mentally cursed her older brother's stupidity. From the moment Catelyn had seen Robb with blood on his shirt, she and Ned had demanded the whole story. They had attempted to hide the issue as a nosebleed, but Sansa – another fool, in Arya's mind – had cracked under her lord father's gaze and revealed the entire truth.

"Oh Robb, are you alright? How did you know where to find the girls? Are you certain he is dead?" Catelyn threw her arms around her eldest son. "I am so proud of you for protecting your sisters."

Robb rolled his eyes good-naturedly and hugged his mother back. "You can hear the two of them arguing in Dorne, and having your head chopped off normally does kill you Mother."

"Besides," Arya cut in. "He killed that man for his lady friend." Theon laughed loudly, Sansa giggled and everyone else in the room turned to stare at Robb. That's for not cleaning your shirt.

If looks could kill, Arya would be burned to a crisp, but the damage had already been done. "What do you mean Arya?" Catelyn demanded, quickly growing agitated. "Robb, have you been seeing a woman?"

"No, Mother." Robb sighed, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "The man had a knife to a girl's throat when I arrived – " he paused to glare at Jon as he muttered something Arya could not hear " – what else was I supposed to do?"

"Who was this girl?" The Lord of Winterfell had been so quiet that Arya had almost forgotten he was there.

"We don't know." She answered quickly. "She had silver hair and said she was from Volantis, but she refused to give her name." Sansa nodded beside her and Catelyn pursed her lips.

"She was probably on the run from something. What respectable lady won't give her name to the man who saved her life?" Mayhaps one who understands there is more to the world than being ladylike, Arya thought with venom.

"She could've been a whore." Theon supplied helpfully. "Maybe that's how you'll see her again Robb! You can take a trip to the whore house, bend her over and – "Before anyone could say anything, Theon was pinned against the wall, the cold Valyrian steel blade against his throat.

"Robb, don't!" Catelyn called, but her words were ignored. Sansa gasped at her brother's anger, and quickly scowled when she saw matching smirks on Arya, Bran and Rickon's faces.

"I'm not going to tell you again to keep your mouth shut." Robb threatened, pressing the blade harder against Theon's throat. "You will not talk about a lady like that, especially not in front of my mother and sisters. Do you understand me?" Jon, the only person brave – or foolish – enough to approach him, placed a hand on his cousin's arm, but Robb did not lower the sword until Theon had muttered an agreement.

Arya grinned brightly and her eldest brother gave her a slight wink as he sheathed his sword again, brushing off the half-hearted scolding from Lady Catelyn. "Mother, he deserved it," was his only explanation, before turning to Lord Stark. "Father, may I be excused now?"

Ned nodded, clearly having ignored the interaction that had just taken place. "All of you can, but don't go too far." Arya felt herself grin as she realised the Royal Family could arrive any minute. She was the first to leave, pushing past Theon and taking care to shove into Sansa as she left through the heavy wooden doors.

The cold was harsh against her face, and she breathed in the icy air until her lungs ached. She moved quickly through the courtyard, laughing to herself as she heard the titters of agitated servants as she interrupted their preparations. Sansa can impress them with her sewing needles and singing, she thought vehemently, I'm more wolf than girl. As if to prove her point, she grabbed a small pie from the baker as he hurried past with a small mountain of them. He looked around quickly to find the culprit, but the little girl had already disappeared.

She bit into the pie happily, the taste of rabbit filling her mouth as she grinned. Her youngest brothers suddenly appeared beside her, Bran running ahead as he yelled at Rickon to keep up. Arya looked down at the smallest Stark, who had stopped running after his brother in favour of gazing at the delicious pie in her hand. Cursing his ability to manipulate her, Arya signed loudly and broke the pie in half, handing the slightly larger piece to the small boy in front of her. His eyes lit up and he gave her a bright grin; she barely had the time to ruffle his hair before he was off, chasing after his older brother with a renewed vigour. The dark-haired girl smiled after him, her breath fogging in the icy air and she finished her rabbit pie, a small noise of contentment leaving her lips.

A loud shout interrupted her moment of peace, as all eyes around her turned to Bran, who – to no one's surprise but to her mother's displeasure – was perched on one of the high towers of Winterfell, his smile visible to even Arya as she stood far below him.

"The King is here!"

OoOoO

Until next time!