Arya was bored. Not in a 'Septa Mordane caught me flaking and now I have to do extra needlework' sort of way, but more in a 'Jon promised he would play at swords with me but he's fifteen minutes late and I have been sitting in this rock for far too long' way. In fact, that's exactly what had happened. Her half-brother had seemed irritated at breakfast and dinner yesterday, and Arya knew that an irritated Jon would be more likely to accept her request to fight than a level-headed one. Not that he would ever turn down a request from his favorite sibling (and who else could that be but Arya? Boring Robb? Even boringer Sansa? ), but it was better to be absolutely sure.

She wasn't so sure herself, though, as the image she was tracing in the dirt with her wooden-practice-sword-turned-pencil became just a mess of squiggles. He probably forgot, she bemoaned and decided that waiting on the rock for another minute would surely drive her mad. Nevermatter, I'll find something to do without Jon.

The problem was, nothing seemed fun after the prospect of training had crossed her mind. Maybe she could find Bran and have him fill Jon's proverbial shoes for the day, but he was probably climbing or something dumb like that.

Wandering through Winterfell would have to suffice. As she wandered, being careful to avoid places a Septa or a big sister could be lurking about, she came upon a window in the upper-level hallway. It was one of her favorites (aside from the one that overlooked the training field, that is). It looked far out beyond the fortress walls of the castle, displaying miles upon miles of rolling Northern landscape. There was no snow on the ground currently, but when there was, it was hard to pull the young Stark away from that window, where she would spend hours planning an adventure through those hills and forests. The godswood could even be seen from here, the sun glinting off the godspool just a gleam from her vantage point.

That gave Arya an idea.

…

By the time she reached the ancient circle of weirwoods, Arya's skirt pockets were so stuffed with rocks and acorns that she couldn't add a single one more. It would make climbing the tree that much more difficult. Bran could probably make the climb with twice as many rocks stuffed into even more pockets, she thought with a small pang of jealousy. As she had predicted, a few small stones tumbled from her skirts as she made her way up one of the more climbable surrounding trees, perching herself in the most hidden of the lower branches. There she made her lookout.

Arya hoped that her Father had chosen a different time to pray that day. If he had caught her rock-in-hand, a serious talking-to and an all-day appointment with Septa Mordane could be expected. Luckily, her hopes had been confirmed. It didn't take long for a target to be spotted, given how much noise it was making, and she sighed in relief when she identified the two boys beneath the opposite tree as Robb and his constant companion, Theon. She couldn't see them properly through the branches, but she would recognize the voice of her third-favorite sibling anywhere, even when it was lowered to a whisper such as now.

As Arya moved to a less hidden branch to get a better look, the rock she drew from her pocket all but fell from her hand as it slackened in confusion. A wayward branch still blocked a bit of her view, but she could make out Robb leaning peacefully against its white bark, ginger hair shining against it, his eyes closed and face tranquil, while his hand ran tenderly through the dark hair that pooled on his thigh where Theon's head came to rest. The ironborn whispered something that brought a slight blush and a lop-sided grin to Robb's face, and he bent his head down to place a soft kiss against the other's lips.

Disgusting, thought Arya, who felt a little queasy all of a sudden. No doubt that Sansa would find the romance in this scenario, but it was entirely lost on the younger Stark girl. At least she had her rocks handy to put a quick stop to the grossness if it happened again. Plus, it was easy to hit a stationary, distracted target.

It didn't take the (gag) lovers long to give Arya another motive for attack. Theon, who seemed to like being kissed for some reason, sat up and, bracing himself on the ground with one hand, used his other to pull Robb back towards him and plant their gross mouths solidly together.

This is why Jon and Bran are my favorites, she mused, moving a reasonably sized pebble behind her head and preparing to throw. Even Rickon isn't that nasty and he's a gross baby that poops his pants (her littlest brother was well past his pants-pooping years, but her point still stood).

She waited. Robb's hands linked behind Theon's back. She waited. With a moan, lips parted and soon tongues were introduced into the equation for some reason. She waited. Robb shifted so that he half-lay half-sat against the tree with Theon pinning him down by the shoulders. She waited. Kiss-swollen lips parted with an awful smack. Three words tumbled secretively from them.

I love you.

She threw the pebble. As sure as the Seven, it flew in a beautiful arc through the branches, glancing by illuminated leaves, and coming to strike with an audible bump against the side of Robb's leg.

He jumped up with a yelp, ramming into his partner's head and eliciting a string of curses from the both of them. Just as he began to frantically look through the treeline, Arya made her escape, jumping from the branch and darting as quietly as she could back to the castle.

…

She found Jon sitting on the same rock she had not an hour before. He looked up at her with exasperation.

"And where have you been?" he asked with an air of annoyance. Arya, now as frustrated as Jon had been the day before, threw an acorn at him. He dodged it. She threw another. That one hit his chest. Unlike Robb, Jon just raised an eyebrow at her, a silent question she knew all too well.

"Robb's being gross," she answered simply. He looked at Arya's face, then to her overfilled pockets, then to the scuffed-up dress. A look of realization crossed his face before he broke down in laughter.

"Were you throwing acorns at him and Theon?"

"They were kissing!" she retorted "And I threw rocks at them, not acorns." That only made Jon laugh harder. By the time he was able to breathe again, tears were running from his eyes.

"What? It's not like he caught me or anything."

"Of course he didn't, Robb can't see past the end of his damned nose when Theon's around. Do you know how many times I wanted to throw a rock at them?"

Feeling embarrassed, Arya picked up the wooden sword from earlier and whacked Jon with it. You're lucky you're still my favorite.