A/N: Thanks for the support.

Our Blades Are Sharp

By Spectre4hire

52: Arya

"OW!" Lyanna protested from where Arya knocked her on the ground. She hissed in pain when she touched the bruise.

"Are you picturing Lyanna as your betrothed?" Jory asked innocently from where she was perched- sitting and watching them.

"I'm not betrothed!" Arya protested hotly, "And I wasn't!"

"She is," Lyanna remarked dryly from where she was on the ground.

Arya's grip on her blunted sword tightened. Her betrothal was a constant source of japes and amusement to her friends, but Arya hated it.

She was not a lady. She was not one for betrothals or families, a marriage or a castle, she wanted her own life. A chance to make her own choices.

Arya would never forget Sansa's letter. Her sister's writing usually so precise and elegant, was stilted and sloppy. Sansa wrote to her telling her that she had agreed in principle to a possible betrothal between Arya and a son of Lord Walder Frey. She wrote begging and insisting she had no choice. That they were trying to save Father. With her betrothed to Domeric and Robb still betrothed to Princess Myrcella, the responsibility fell to Arya.

In that moment, Arya wanted to hate her sister like she use to. It was so easy then when Sansa pretended to be a southern lady, when she'd mock Arya or look down at her for every little thing. She wanted to summon it, that old anger, to let her lash out, to curse Sansa for what she did, but the efforts were stymied. She and Sansa weren't like that anymore. They had changed.

So now all Arya found herself feeling was numb disbelief.

"Arya." Jory's voice took Arya out of her thoughts.

She looked to see she was standing over Lyanna. She offered her hand to help her friend up.

Lyanna took it without complaint, righting herself up, but her eyes remained on Arya. "I'd ask what you were thinking, but," she tapped her arm where her new bruise was. "I'd fear your reply."

"Sorry," Arya apologized.

Lyanna shook her head, "It was a good strike. The fault is mine for not blocking it."

"Thanks." Arya let loose a tired breath. They had been sparring quite a bit since Lyanna and Jorelle had returned from their visit of Cerwyn Castle. Arya wanted to practice every day. It helped clear her mind with everything that was happening in the south. The things she did know like her family fighting the Lannisters, her betrothal, and the things she did not: Where was Jon? How was her Father? When would she see her family again?

"Speaking on betrothals, sister," Lyanna spoke up. "When you marry yours that means Lord Bolton will be your brother." She snickered at Jory's reaction to this unpleasant reminder.

"Good brother!" Jory corrected tersely, glaring at her sister. "And how thoughtful of you to bring that to my attention."

Lyanna was smirking. "I was just pointing out the blessing from the Old Gods," She said innocently, "You'll finally have a brother."

Jory grumbled something, crossing her arms over her chest.

Arya smiled at her friends' antics. She was thankful for their presence in Winterfell. Even with their japes, Arya had missed them terribly when they went to Castle Cerwyn and had been very pleased when they had returned. They never judged her like Jeyne, or mocked her like Beth. They had always liked her for being her, for just being Arya. They understood her and just as importantly they supported her.

Her smile dipped when she spotted Hodor carrying Bran into the godswood, Summer beside them. Her reaction wasn't due to the sight of her brother. No, it had to do with who else was accompanying them. There was Osha. Despite Bran's efforts to mollify Arya's anger or justify the wildling's presence, Arya still did not care for her. She wouldn't forget that Osha tried to ransom Bran to their King-Beyond-The-Wall.

Arya's eyes then flicked over to those walking on Hodor's other side-Meera and Jojen Reed. They were the children of Howland Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch. She knew the name, knowing he was an old friend of Father's, but Arya could never recall meeting him.

They had arrived at Winterfell unexpectedly. Pledging their continued support to the Starks' cause, but they brought no soldiers or information from their father. He claims to be Father's friend, but Arya did not think he sent any forces south with Robb to free Father...

She frowned at the back of Jojen's retreating form. He spoke of odd things that Arya didn't like especially when she noticed how it stuck to Bran. They spoke in whispers in the godswood, and snippets of what she could hear, never made sense to her. It sounded like nonsense, but Bran soaked it all up, like tree roots absorbing the rainwater that leaked into the soil.

After Bran's incident when she found him in his chambers. She was convinced he had walked, but Maester Luwin would not hear of it. When he finally humored her, asking how she thought Bran walked, Arya had answered-that it was magic that helped her brother.

He had smiled, but Arya was not fooled by it. She recognized it as the ones that Mother gave to Rickon when he would babble incoherently.

The day after she had found Bran in his room, Jojen and Meera had arrived to Winterfell.

"I don't like him."

"You don't like anyone," Lyanna pointed out.

"That's not true."

Jory got up from where she had been sitting. "You don't like your betrothed."

"You don't like the Septa."

"You don't like the wildling."

"Alright," Arya cut in before they could continue down the list. She wanted to be annoyed, but it was taking all of her effort to not smile or chuckle with them.

"Mother's told us stories about the Crannogmen," Lyanna came up alongside Arya, watching them disappear into the thick wood of Winterfell's godswood.

Arya had heard tales of them too. Frog eaters, and mud men, she remembered Theon japing that they had webbed toes and lived in hollowed out trunks and wore moss. He called them Bog devils too, Father had heard that and had not been pleased.

"Least the girl, Meera can fight," Jory had moved to join them. "I've seen her with that spear of hers." She nodded her approval, "I should challenge her," she smiled at the thought, "Never fought against a frog spear before."

"That's because you're not a frog, Jory."

Jory chose to reply by reaching behind Arya and swatting her sister's shoulder which only made Lyanna laugh more.

"Mother thinks they want a betrothal," Arya found herself saying over the squabbling sisters.

"A betrothal?" Lyanna repeated, "With who?"

Arya shrugged. It was a conversation she had accidentally overheard. It had been between her mother and Maester Luwin, after the Reeds had arrived to Winterfell. She was suppose to be getting ready for sleep, but she was not tired. So Arya had slipped out, and when she heard their voices she hid to let them pass. They hadn't seen her, but she could see and hear them.

"Never mind," She said quickly, "Forget I said anything." The last thing she wanted to do was be caught gossiping. Not just because it meant she would be acting more like Beth or Jeyne but because if Mother found out Arya had been listening when she should not have been...

"A match between you and Jojen?" Lyanna teased. "A way to break your Frey betrothal?"

"Never!"

He was strange. Arya did not like how his eyes would look at her. It was like he could see right through her. She hadn't liked that. She had tried to get Nymeria to scare him so as to stop him, but her wolf had not been in the mood. She would not forget how Jojen's eyes turned to her after she failed to convince Nymeria. When he looked at her, it was as if he could read her intentions. His lips had crooked into the smallest of smiles, before saying in a tone no louder than a whisper, "Just like your brother."

Arya's thoughts on the young Reed were suddenly pushed away by Jory's voice.

"It would not be between them," Jory was shaking her head. "Sometimes, I wonder how you can swing an axe, seeing as how blind you can be."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Lyanna frowned, offended at having her skills questioned.

Jory answered her sister's wounded tone with an eye roll. "It would be between Bran and Meera," She wore a knowing smile that reminded Arya of her mother when she spoke of certain things. "You should see the way he looks at her."

"Arya! Arya!"

The three turned to see Rickon come running towards them.

Arya smiled at her youngest brother, moving to meet him.

Rickon nearly ran into her. His face was red and he was grinning. "I'm suppose to fetch you."

"Fetch me?" Arya tousled his hair. "What for?"

"There's been a raven," Rickon answered, "Word from Riverrun, from Robb!" Rickon proudly puffed his chest out at successfully relaying the message.

"From Robb?" Arya felt the hope swelling within, "Of what?"

"Mother's waiting for both of us."

"What of Bran?" Surely, he needed to know about this message from their brother.

"Mother already talked to him," Rickon grabbed Arya's hand, and began to tug, "We need to see Mother now."

Arya did not need to be told twice. She excused herself from Lyanna and Jorelle, allowing Rickon to lead her back into the castle to see and speak to Mother and to learn what had happened in the south.

"I got her," Rickon announced proudly. He was still holding Arya's hand where he lead her into Father's solar where Mother and Maester Luwin were waiting for them.

"Thank you, darling," Mother smiled warmly at him from where she sat behind Father's desk. Maester Luwin was hovering behind her. She turned to Arya, "Has Rickon told you?"

"Only that we've received a raven from Riverrun."

"We have," Mother gestured for Arya to sit down across from her.

"What is it?" Arya did not care about sitting down. She wanted to know what was happening with the rest of their family.

Dark wings, dark words, she remembered the old saying, but she pushed that out of her mind as quickly as it had entered.

Rickon had scrambled up to take the seat. His small legs dangling, swinging them back and forth. His eyes were bright, looking between Mother and Arya.

"Robb has won a great victory."

"Truly?"

Mother had a proud smile when she nodded, "He has. He has also captured the Kingslayer," her mouth twisting at the mention of the infamous Lannister.

"What about Father?" Arya asked, "What about Jon?" She noticed how mother's smile dipped at the mention of him, but she did not care. She loved Jon, she hadn't forgotten about him. He was part of their pack.

"Lord Stark is still a prisoner of the Iron Throne," Luwin answered solemnly. "However, with the Kingslayer being your brother's captive, it is possible for an exchange to take place between Lord Robb's forces and the Lannisters."

Rickon cheered at that. "So Father's coming back?"

"That is your brother's plan, sweetling."

"Lord Robb also wrote about Jon Snow," Maester Luwin said delicately. He looked to Mother, who gave a tight nod, but she kept her focus on Rickon. "He writes that Jon is a knight." He pulled out a rolled up note, presenting it to Arya, "For you."

"Jon's a knight?" Arya smiled, "He's alive?"

"Yes," Luwin confirmed. "He is with Lord Robb's forces at Riverrun."

Arya snatched the letter from the maester.

"That can wait, Arya."

Arya was about to protest until she saw the warning look from her Mother. Her defiance was snuffed in an instant.

"We are going to Riverrun."

"We are?"

"Yes," Mother answered, "You, myself, and Rickon, some guards, and some supplies."

Rickon jumped out of his seat at the news. Clapping his hands in excitement. As he babbled about seeing their brothers and going on an adventure to the south.

Arya felt as giddy as Rickon though she contained her excitement, focusing it inwardly as she reflected on the happy news. Not only were her brothers safe, but she would soon be seeing them!

"Rickon," Mother called him over and when he was near enough she took his hands in hers. "Now, Rickon you are a Stark. We are expecting you to act like one before we even reach Riverrun."

"I will," Rickon squirmed. He was struggling to slip out of her grip, but Mother would not let go.

"Then take your wolf and stark packing," she kissed his hair. "And I'll come check on you after I finish speaking with your sister."

Rickon nodded fervently, "Come on, Shaggydog." The large dark furred direwolf had been lounging by the hearth, got up in one swift movement. Tongue lulled to the side as his green eyes took in the room. He yipped playfully when Rickon approached. They sprinted alongside each other when leaving the room.

Mother watched them go with a sigh, but her eyes were shining. "It will be good to see Riverrun once more."

Arya felt something tugging at her. Pulling away from the happy reunions she was playing in her head of seeing Robb and Jon again. It was in thinking about her brothers did her other one come to her attention and his notable absence in Mother's plans.

"What about Bran?"

"Bran will remain. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," she looked down at her still scarred hands. "Bran will stay and continue at doing a wonderful job of helping to oversee this castle along with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrick."

"Your brother has already been told," Luwin said quietly. "He understood and accepted his duty to your family and to Winterfell."

"Rickon was going to stay too," she paused, "But Bran insist that he go." She looked proud at the maturity he showed by making sure Rickon would travel with them.

Arya nodded, she understood, but she was still disappointed that Bran would be staying. She feared how he reacted when Mother told him. Or what dark thoughts would linger with him after they left. She'd speak to him, make him know that he will not be forgotten or ignored.

I'll let him know that we appreciate him staying and doing his service to our family.

Satisfied, that it would help, she turned her thoughts away from him and onto the letter she was holding. It felt heavy in her hand and her desire to read it grew with each passing second. "I should pack as well," She wanted an excuse so that she could leave to read her brother's letter. Arya had already started moving towards the door when her mother's voice caused her to stop.

"Arya?"

She halted. She was afraid that Mother was not going to dismiss her. "Yes?"

"Are you not even curious of why we're going to Riverrun?" There was a lilt of amusement in her tone.

"Ah," Arya stammered, she had been so distracted by the good news about her brothers and the excitement of seeing them again. She hadn't really thought about why they were heading to the Riverlands. Arya tried to recover, but Mother took pity on her and clarified the matter.

"Your sister is marrying Domeric," She revealed. "We are attending their wedding."

Arya found herself once more in her her room packing for a trip. A few months ago it had been to begin her fostering at Bear Island with the Mormonts. Now, she was going south to Riverrun. She would not be traveling alone, Rickon and Mother were coming as were Lyanna and Jorelle. And yet, it was who was waiting for them that kept Arya's attention, mainly on the thoughts of her older brothers-Jon and Robb.

In her mind she could see Jon smiling down at her, tousling her hair, and calling her little sister. Robb was there too. He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, And what sort of mischief have you gotten into while we were gone?

She yearned to see them so badly, her heart ached.

Soon, she reminded herself, when she opened her eyes. It became a little prayer for her. A reminder that helped to ease her longing for a reunion with them. Soon, I'll see them.

Mother said it should not take longer than a fortnight to travel from Winterfell to Riverrun.

The mention of Mother brought her attention to one of the dresses that had been selected for Arya to be brought south with them. Arya held it loosely in her hands, inspecting it with a growing frown. In one fleeting heartbeat, she considered throwing it in the fire of the hearth instead of her trunk. The temptation passed, but not the desire.

It was grey wool. She was sure if Sansa was here, she'd be able to tell her all about the intricacies and the details and how it was stitched, but to Arya it was just a stupid grey dress. The only thing she liked about it was the sprinting direwolf embroidered into it. She dropped it into her packing trunk not wanting to give it a another thought.

Sansa, her sister was the reason that Arya was going south. She was to marry Domeric to seal the vital alliance between Winterfell and the Dreadfort. Arya was happy for her. However, it curdled at knowing that while Sansa got to marry who she wanted, Arya was betrothed to a stranger, a Frey.

I don't even want to marry! I want to fight. I want to travel. I want to explore. This isn't fair! Arya bunched up one of her riding trousers and tossed it towards her trunk in frustration. She missed it completely. They landed on the floor where Nymeria was resting. The direwolf gave them a curious sniff before putting her head back down, uninterested.

Then she remembered her sister's letter, her pleas and apologies and whatever frustration she felt died like sails losing their wind. Arya moved over to grab her discarded trousers, but went to petting Nymeria first, who welcomed the touch with a yawn, stretching out her long legs.

"You are a lot alike."

Arya spun around to see Jojen Reed standing in the doorway. He was dressed in green-trousers and shirt. His hands were behind his back.

"I am not surprised," He continued, "It is to be expected from wargs that are so closely bonded."

Arya stiffened at the mention. "I'm not a warg!" She denied it at once. She knew what she was. Her training with Alysane helped her with that, but she wasn't a fool. She knew how people would react if they knew she was one. They would be afraid of me, or hate me. The wargs were always the monsters in the stories.

That got a small smile to crack his solemn demeanor. "You are a warg. Just like Bran, and I suspect your brothers too," He moved into her room, uninvited, "and your sister."

Sansa, a warg? It seemed so ridiculous Arya wanted to laugh, but then how could she? Lady was docile and gentle just like Sansa, could it be her sister was one too? It sounded absurd, but Arya could not deny there was merit in Jojen's observation.

"You said my brothers?" Arya watched him carefully.

His green eyes were flicking this way and that, but he looked disinterested on wherever they landed. "Yes, your brothers," he sounded bored in his answer, "That included Jon Snow." He added as if sensing the question on her lips.

We're all wargs.

"They were a gift," Jojen said softly.

"By the Old Gods," Arya had heard this before from some of the guards who had been there the day they were discovered.

Jojen's lips twitched, but he did not smile. "Did they tell you how they found the mother?"

"Yes," Arya did not understand, "It was impaled by antlers-"

"From a stag," he finished for her.

Arya frowned, "So what?"

"A message to accompany the gift."

Nymeria raised her head, eyes watching Jojen, but he did not seem worried by the wolf's growing irritable nature.

"And what was the message?"

He shrugged, stopping in front of them. "They are hard to interpret, but it means something. Is not the king's sigil a stag?"

Arya felt a chill go through her. "The King's dead."

Jojen tilted his head, "The king had children, and brothers."

"What are you saying?" Arya growled. Were the Old Gods warning them? A wolf was killed by a stag. Did that mean one of them would be killed by one? Would her family be hurt by the Baratheons?

"Jojen," A new voice joined their conversation as Meera looked in on them from the doorway.

"I needed to speak to Arya."

Meera's eyes flicked from Arya to Jojen, "Does this have to-"

"It does."

"What are you talking about?" Arya didn't like how they seemed to be having a conversation about her in her room and in her presence while ignoring her.

"My brother," Meera began before looking at him, who nodded as if giving permission for her to continue, "He has the Greensight."

The Greensight, Arya knew of the word from the stories Old Nan use to tell them. It was said that they had prophetic dreams.

"That is why I have come to Winterfell."

Arya felt her muscles tense when he crouched down in front of her and Nymeria. Her direwolf let out a low growl, but Jojen did not seem frightened, he only hesitated. His dark green eyes going from the wolf to her, the corner of his lips tugged upwards.

"H-have you had any?" Arya tried her best to keep her tone calm not wanting to betray the growing trepidation she felt building within.

"I have," He closed his eyes. "On the trip to Winterfell I experienced some." He took a breath before continuing,

"I dreamed of a dragon drowning in ice. Its heart bleeding fire that melted through its scales." He kept his eyes closed, "I dreamt of a shadow adorned with a crown of flames, and in its hand it carried a burning sword. Its face shifted with each flicker of the light."

"I saw a man standing in a smoldering ruin and at his feet were a pile of bodies, human and direwolf. He was holding the torch and a long red sword."

Arya's stomach clenched. An icy chill climbed up her spine. She didn't understand them, but she still found herself scared.

She wanted him to stop. To stop talking, to leave, to never mention any of this again, but she couldn't find the courage to say it.

He opened his eyes. His deep green eyes studying her as if he could read her fears like words on a parchment. "You should not worry. I will not be here when you return to Winterfell."

Good, Arya thought, The sooner he returned to his father's castle, the better.

"You've said enough, brother," Meera put her hand on his shoulder.

"And yet there is more to say," He stood up, "There is little I can gleam from what I dream, but it was enough to bring me here to your brother."

"Did you tell him this?"

"That and more," Jojen revealed. "It will give him hope and courage for the trials put to him."

"You shouldn't fill my brother's head with that sort of stuff," Arya growled, "It's bad enough he cannot walk again, but you lying to him about this nonsense," she waved her hand, angrily.

Jojen didn't flinch at her tone. "I only wished to show your brother a path that would not require walking," He dipped his head. "I understand the loyalty of the Pack. My father said as much as did the three-eyed crow."

Three-eyed crow, Arya found herself mouthing in confusion.

"You will be the one to let them know."

"Let who know?" Arya didn't understand, "About what?"

Jojen did not answer her instead he turned and left. He did not stop until he reached the doorway where he looked over his shoulder expectantly at his sister.

"Do not worry for your brother," Meera smiled at her. "We will watch him when you are in the south." She stood straight and bowed her head, "We are loyal to House Stark." She put her hand to her chest and nodded before joining her brother. "I pray that you and your family never doubt that."