In which our little wolf tries to settle into her new life
*Year 298 After Conquest (AC) – New Past*
It takes Arya exactly two days for the pain in her heart to numb and then another day for that numbness to completely overtake her. Her continuous routine contributed for the most part of it. It was hard to think and feel considering she always has things to do. Be it the duties of Lady of Winterfell, getting used to her mobile chair or learning how to ride again. She welcomes the distraction with open arms even though by the end of the day, her body drained and her working muscles ached due to the exertion. At least by then, she would be too tired for her nightmares – or even a certain dream of a silver-haired woman – to conjure up at night.
Tyrion's wheelchair and saddle plans proved to be a success. Once they were assembled and readied, Arya didn't waste any time and instantly made full use of them. Now, she is proud to say that she can move around the castle more freely than the first day she woke up from her fall. The same can be said of her riding where she had dedicated most of her time to train with her horse. The training has always been able to make her forget everything that was going to happen and how she chose to do nothing to stop them.
But, as she sat behind the table in the Great Hall – attending to one of the many duties as the Lady of Winterfell – listening to a man's complain about how Robb had taken away all his able men to fight alongside the Northern army in releasing their Father, every little things that she locked inside her head comes bursting at the front of her mind. She gathers her fists tightly as she regards the still talking man across the room.
"–There's no one left now, only the women that care for the household and they're no good in nothing else. I might as well be left with nothing…all thanks to this petty war that's going on."
Arya couldn't hold on anymore. "Are you suggesting, my lord…" she finally speaks up, effectively cutting the man's next sentence. "That my brother should bend the knee to the Lannister's bastard and beg for my father's mercy then – your Warden…for the crime of telling the truth and save everyone else all of these troubles?" she questioned softly though her demeanour screams anything but and she relished in the gradually cowering face in front of her.
He swallowed a lump then, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "N–No, milady… That's not what I meant at all." he stuttered as the young girl continues fixing him a dark gaze.
She leans forward slowly. "Then, I suggest you choose your next word carefully, my lord. I wouldn't want to misunderstand you again… Gods forbid that a man loses his tongue simply because he isn't articulate enough."
There was a definite silence as cold grey eyes pinned the distraught brown ones from across the room. The man was visibly shaken at the mild threat as he tries to form his next words but to no avail.
Luckily for him, Maester Luwin breaks the tense silence. "We can spare four masons for a week, my lord… Will that be sufficient?"
The man clears his throat then. "Y–Yes, I believe it will… Thank you." He didn't wait to be told as he dismissed himself in a hurry. Bowing to the two people behind the High Table minutely and makes himself scarce.
The young Stark watches him leave in silence. Not until his figure disappears through the archway did she turns to the old Maester beside her. "What?" she asked as he gave her a look. He doesn't have to say anything though. Arya knew a scolding when she looks at one. "I didn't like his insinuation… None of us asked for this war to happen." she defends bitterly.
Maester Luwin sighed softly. "That is true… but, you can't threaten every man that comes asking for help."
"He should've asked nicely then."
"Arya." His voice hardens slightly and she turns to him, her mouth sets in a hard line. "You're the Lady of Winterfell now… Your duty is for the people. They need their Lady Stark, now more than ever."
"Am I to just sit here even when they insult my family?"
"We're in a sensitive time. War is brewing and everyone is on edge, common people most of all." He counters and Arya slumped slightly. She knows very well how wars affect the common people. After all, she was there experiencing the horrid conclusions of the War of the Five Kings another lifetime ago. A flash of images enter her mind then; of barren, charred field, dead bodies and sickly air assaulting her senses, before there were replaced again with warm eyes studying her calmly. She looks away trying to wipe out her living nightmare and how her stomach recoils at the fact that she was about to let those horrible things to happen again this time around.
Maester Luwin misunderstood the young girl's stricken face as something else as he leans closer. "I know how hard this must be, Arya… But, I'll be here to help." He paused waiting for grey eyes to focus on him again before continuing, "And the first lesson I can teach you is this; One of your responsibilities as Lady of Winterfell is listening to people you'd rather not listen to. Sometimes, what they truly need is a lending ear... Someone to share their burdens with, and that is the least we could do."
It takes Arya a moment before she shakes off her guilt from her heart leaving it hollow again. She straightened herself as she held Maester Luwin's gaze. "I understand… I'll listen and do better."
Because it really is the only thing she could do now, isn't it.
*
The next few days went by a blur. From the moment that Arya wakes up in the morning, she already had a schedule – and of course Maester Luwin – waiting for her. To meeting the lords and ladies and managing the other correspondence castles, hearing any visiting petitioners and mediate their disputes, and to overseeing the maintenance of Winterfell itself.
She should realize before this just how much care Winterfell needed seeing how huge the castle is. There is always repairing or building projects at some part of the castle that needed her approval. And while she was at it, she takes the liberties to instruct the staffs to install ramps wherever she needs them, making the journey with her wooden-wheeled chair throughout the castle less restricted.
With most of her waking time spent attending to governing and day-to-day operations of the castle, she had little to no time at all for her little brother, Rickon. Although they rarely spend the day together, Arya had not let her little brother unsupervised. She had arranged for him to his daily training with Ser Rodrik and then his education later in the day. Though, Rickon sometimes would make his own schedules and decides what he should do that deems worthy of his time.
There are also some days that the youngest Stark decides to do nothing at all but to follow his sister around, latching onto her lap – literally – as she did about her business. And during those rare days, Arya felt a little bit lighter. She envied his innocent and purity and wonder when did she ever grow up from them.
It was a late evening as Arya wheeled her way across the hallways, relishing in the rare time of being alone. She had just finished her last work for the day and after dismissing everyone, decides to direct herself to the kitchen quarters to pass the time before dinner arrives; or more accurately to please her sudden cravings.
The sound of people working and shouting can be heard as she neared the archway. And soon enough she encounters the source of the chatters and clatters as the maids and cooks set about their respective works. Their ease conversation carries through the room.
Arya pushes herself further into the room then. The on-going conversation effectively halted as the sound of her wheelchair comes barrel in none too quietly.
A middle-aged woman immediately leaves the pot she's watching over before she motions for a servant girl to take her place. "M'lady." She acknowledged as she neared the young Stark. "Do you require anything?" Her eyes flicker down to the girl's legs before finding grey eyes.
Though it was only for a brief moment, Arya noticed the gesture nonetheless. If it was another time ago, she would be offended by the attention and how people's demeanour seems to change around her as soon as they saw her disability. Now though, she has learnt to brush it off and even used it to her advantage. Like this moment, for example, as she looks up to the older woman, offering a smile. "Greta." She nodded at the Head cook of Winterfell. "Kidney pie would be lovely."
The once soften features is now set again. "Dinner's only about an hour, m'lady."
Arya leans forward a bit. "An hour is too long, Greta… I don't think I can hold on anymore." She pleads and the face in front of her slowly softens again. "I even came all this way by myself." She tacks on unashamedly.
It was less than five seconds before Greta sighs in defeat. "As you wish, m'lady… but, it'll be one small slice." She decided, moving behind the young girl and pushing her further to a small table across the room. She called for another servant girl to bring the infamous kidney pies.
Despite the head cook's words, the slice of pie she puts in the young Stark's plate is far from being a small one. "Thank you," Arya said honestly as her smile widens. She gets a small smile in return before the older woman left.
The young Stark wasted no time then, taking the first bite of her favourite dish. She closes her eyes in delight at the welcoming taste. The chatter inside the kitchen quarters began to stir again and Arya lets the wave of sounds carries her along with it. The organised chaos could almost drown her from her own chaotic mind and for a little while she can just be herself; Not the Lady of Winterfell, nor the youngest daughter of House Stark, not a faceless assassin, and most certainly not the person who was brought back to relive her horrible past.
She turns to study the many faces of the maids and cooks on duty and let herself sinks further into the familiar routines they were busying themselves with. The serenity breaks apart though when she encounters a foreign face amidst the people.
Swallowing down the remaining of her pies, she continues to study the curious woman behind the rim of her cup next. The woman looks to be in her late twenties, with shaggy dark hair and dark eyes, wearing only one piece of clothing that covers her from chest to ankle. It was not flattering or even comfortable just by looking at it. A sack perhaps would be much better than whatever the unknown woman is wearing.
She couldn't hear the grunt from across the room but judging by the woman's sour face and how unceremoniously she places the cleaned plate onto its stacks, Arya can imagine it nonetheless. Shoving the last piece of kidney pie into her mouth, she picks up her emptied plate and cup and stationed them on her lap before making her way to the grumpy looking woman across the room.
The sound of her wooden wheeled chair against the floor was loud enough to make a few of the servant girls that are close by to glance her way, offering their lady a polite smile and acknowledgement. But, the woman with the dishes duty seems unaffected by this. Even when Arya had placed her used plate and cup into another tray of dirty dishes near her, the dark-haired woman was still looking down, scrubbing a plate halfheartedly.
Arya decides to announce her presence then. "You missed a spot."
At this, the woman finally looks up, realizing someone else was with her. Her dark eyes rake the younger girl from top to bottom, studying her.
Like everyone else, the woman lingers on Arya's limp legs before she looks up to find grey eyes. Though, this time the woman's gaze didn't soften or the like. Quite the opposite actually and the young Stark finds the act refreshing despite its apparent hostility.
"What?" The woman finally replied. Her voice came out annoyed.
"You missed a spot," Arya repeats, nudging her head slightly to the plate in the older girl's hands.
The woman looked offended by the statement and she throws the still dirty plate back into the tray, making the shallow water to splash around the edge. "Oh, do I now? I suppose you can do better than me?" she challenged.
The young Stark raised an eyebrow at the blatant rudeness. "Despite what you may think, you don't require much wisdom to clean a plate properly."
The dark eyes were unwavering. "Says the little lady who lived in a castle, who had servant girls and boys doing her bidding and even tucking her back into bed… Did they sing you songs and kiss you goodnight too?"
The chatters and workings inside the kitchen quarters have long died now and Arya can feel everyone's stare all around them. She didn't let it bothered her as her gaze stays rooted onto the dark-haired woman who had just casually belittled her. Though the young Stark was intrigued by the woman's honest disregard of Arya Stark's disability, her brusqueness towards the interim Lady of Winterfell was another matter entirely.
"Do you wish to lose your job or do you often terrorize your patron." Arya retaliates.
The woman chuckles humorlessly. "You Southerners and your fancy words… A job?" she drawled, moving to stand up and as she did so, there was a rattling noise down her feet, revealing steel chains. "I may be a Wildling, little lady but we don't tell lies to the people we captured… We tied them and we tell them straight to their faces if we're going to kill them soon after. What we don't do is chained them up and come up with fancy words about them being a slave to some crippled highborn lady who thinks she's better than everyone else just because she's born in a castle."
Arya frowns at the words sputtering out from the older woman, trying to put two and two together as she eyed the chains shackling both her ankles. Luckily for her, Greta – who is now at her side – offers an explanation. "Your brother, Robb found a group of Wildling while he was out hunting, m'lady. They tried to mug him and she's the only one that survived."
A beat passed as the young Stark let Greta's explanation settles in. All the while, grey eyes never leaving the dark-haired woman who seems to lose her fiery gaze as her own dark eyes dart to Greta and back to her only now realizing that she may have misunderstood the younger girl's involvement in her predicament.
To say that Arya was bothered by the fact that Robb or anyone else had not told her there's a Wildling living in the castle is an understatement. Though she understands how Robb might have forgotten about the woman's existence with what's going on with everything else before he left. Nonetheless, the woman could possess a threat to everyone inside Winterfell. What to stop her from infiltrating the main castle and to her room or even worse to Rickon's.
Her jaw set hard and she focuses again into calculating dark eyes. As soon as Arya takes another look at the woman though, she notices the pale skin and dark shadows under her eyes and the protruding bone of her cheeks, wrists and ankles and in instant grey eyes lose their judgment.
The young Stark wonders if the Wildling looks this terrible before or after she was caught. Did someone in this castle was treating her badly knowing that Arya isn't aware of her existence? She remembered about the older woman lashing out about being a slave and the word alone makes her blood boils as flashes of her own enslavement another lifetime ago comes barreling in. She flinches slightly as the phantom pain decides to let their presence known across her body then.
"What's your name?" Arya finally speaks up, clenching her jaw tight as she expertly disposed of the imagination pain away.
The wildling woman blinks a few times, not expecting the question before her features turn guarded again. "My name's Osha." She replied curtly.
"Osha." Arya started. "Every person here in The North is a free man and woman… And every person who committed a crime will never go unpunished." She stops, gauging the older woman's reaction. Osha's gaze looks resolute as if she knows or perhaps accepts what will be coming next. "I can't let you walk free when you have attempted to cause harm to my brother and perhaps will continue to do so to other people outside this castle."
Osha clenched her jaw tight. "Fine then, little lady… Do what you have to do and get this over with."
Arya wavered only for a second as she weighs her options for the last time. She straightens her shoulders as she regards the older woman then. "Osha of the Free Folk, you were caught trying to steal and cause harm to the then Lord of House Stark, the Warden of the North, my brother…and because of that alone, your crimes are punishable by death… But, you're not from around here and you have no knowledge of our ways and who the person you tried to rob might be and pressing the Northern's laws to you would be unfair, therefore I won't do that."
Osha's dark gaze cleared then, her mouth agape startled at the declaration.
Arya ignores it. "You will pay your crimes by serving me instead. You will care for my needs and whatever else I require of you from the sun rises till it sets." She trails waiting for Osha to respond. But, the older woman couldn't seem to form a word, so Arya continues. "And because you're not a slave, you will be paid money for your services…and since you're caring for a crippled noble lady, you will be paid twice the normal wage of carers. You will do this until your crime is compensated fully. Do you accept?"
The silence that came after was deafening to everyone's present and Arya waited patiently for the older woman's replied.
Osha swallowed a lump then. "Wh– What?"
"Do you accept?" Arya asked calmly, knowing that Osha heard the previous details of her offer.
Osha chance a glance at the Head Cook beside the younger girl then, who like everyone else in the room, is waiting silently for her response. She looks down to find calm grey eyes again, noting that there is nothing there but determination and fierceness. Deciding not to trust her voice, Osha nods her answer instead.
It was only a slight nod and if Arya hasn't been paying attention, she would miss it. She turns to Greta then. "Take the chain off her."
*
A loud thump blasted through Arya's room and she startled herself awake from her fitful slumber. The arms that have been supporting her head shoot outwards, reaching for the thin slender knife she used to open some of her letters with. Her body straightens and tense, the blade pointed and ready to attack before her eyes even fully open.
When the blur of her vision finally cleared, she finds the familiar face of the Wildling woman she has spent her last few days with. Her body relaxes almost instantly before she places the small blade onto the table again.
After their first meeting, it takes Arya and the older woman less than a day to get familiarize with themselves. The young Stark remembered doubting her decision in taking the Wildling woman into her care moments after the chains were off. After all, she was about to give the older woman so much access around the castle and of her own personal need. Not to mention Rickon's and other occupants' safety might be in jeopardy if the Wildling choose to snap and go on a murdering spree once freed.
But, truth be told, there was something in the split moment when Arya saw Osha's reaction of her for the first time; How the older woman sees her with nothing similar to pity or careful politeness everyone else seems to wear when they're around the young Stark as if they're walking on eggshells around her. And Arya was sure the older woman knew exactly who the crippled in a fancy dress in front of her was, which only makes Arya craves her honesty even more.
Though it was a risky and selfish decision to make, the young Stark makes sure to compensate it by having Nymeria testing the older girl's character. Arya trusted her direwolf with her life and the beast had always been there for her in time of needs and when she's in peril danger. So, when Nymeria gave Osha a once-over and a whole lot of sniff before walking away calmly, Arya decides the Wildling isn't going to be a threat after all.
"Did I not tell you to knock first?" Arya asked groggily, getting back to the intruder in her room. She wipes the remnants of her sleep from her face and then rubbing at her sore neck, no doubt due to the awkward position she fell asleep in.
Osha walks further into the room then, closing the door behind her with less hostility than earlier. "I already did, little lady." She counters giving the younger girl behind the desk a look. "I guess you didn't hear it."
Arya looks up, giving a look of her own. "The point of knocking is to wait until you've given permission to enter the room. It beats the purpose if you come bursting anyway without regards to the occupants."
"Is it written in one of your books there?" The older woman points at the scattered letters and books on the table separating them. "Another teachings of 'How to be a stuck up highborn', perhaps."
Arya closes her eyes, trying to hide her eye roll. "It's called basic manners… You don't need to be highborn to know that. You just need to be a person."
Osha looks less than bothered by the remark. She closes in towards the young girl instead, bending down. "Oh come now, little lady…no point in hiding away your true intention." She trails; a slight tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"And what is my true intention?" The young Stark asked with a raised brow. Osha reaches for the mess of the table then, in an attempt to organize some of it as she lets the question hung. She didn't get to do anything though as Arya snatches the books away. "Do not touch these…otherwise, I can't find what I'm looking for."
"And you can find what you're looking for under this mess?" Osha asked scandalized.
The young Stark carefully placed the books back to their original places along with the scattered things. She had been spending all night, studying and revising Winterfell's records, accounts and along with other things. "It's an organized mess– I said stop touching it."
Osha raises her arms in defeat, palms out and retreat a few steps away. "Fine... You don't need to shout."
"I'm not shouting." Arya may have raised the tone of her voice a little but she's definitely not shouting.
"Yes, you did… And you just did it again." The older woman said pointedly. "You don't even let me do my job. Next thing I know you're going to cut off my pay and throw me back doing dishes."
"Clean something else then." Arya retorts back, annoyed.
"Have you taken a look at your room? There's nothing to clean here… You don't even use your bed. If you have slept there like other normal people who have a luxurious bed would do, I might have something to do now."
"Perhaps you should master the art of knocking first…and then you can move on to the next big thing."
Osha fakes a laugh. "I know you're still bitter about that…" she trails still staring down at the young Stark. "You wanted me to knock first because you're upset that I could walk in on you doing things, aren't you?"
"What are you talking about now?"
"You know…that thing that you do when you're alone?" the older woman said in a hush as she leans forward.
A frown etches on Arya's face. "What thing? And why are you whispering?"
The older woman throws her head back in exasperation. "Oh don't act like you're innocent, little lady. It's really nothing to be ashamed of… You're a young woman now. Everyone does it once in a while." At Arya's still frowning face, she rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me you never touch yourself, down there?" she blurts out.
It takes a moment for the last question to finally seep into her and Arya feels her face heats up by the second. "Wha– Why would I do that?" She knows why but Osha doesn't need to know that.
"By the Old Gods, now I know why you're so cranky all the time," Osha exclaimed as if she had just solved a puzzle. "All that pent up energy inside you… You should let it all out, little lady. Do you want me to teach–"
"No, I don't want or need you to teach me anything." Arya cuts off effectively. Osha still looks down at her with a mixture of doubts and curiosity. "And most certainly not about any of that." Arya puts a stop to it.
Osha shrugs then. "Suits yourself."
Reaching down to the sides of her wheelchair, Arya pushes the wooden wheels to move away from the table and to the edge of her bed next. She turns to face the older woman. "I have riding first thing today, am I not?" she checks, effectively changing the topic.
"You do… I've brought your riding clothes." She nudges to the bundle of clothes on top of the chest across the room that Arya only now realized. Besides them, a basin of water which she guesses is for her washing was placed there.
Before she can do anything, Osha had silently gone behind her to push her chair forward. Arya thanked the older woman and proceeds to wash her face. She relished as the warm water comes in contact with her skin, refreshing her instantly and she feels a whole lot better. Osha's listing of the breakfast menus from behind also contributes to a part of it.
*
"Come on! Faster!" Rickon's voice echoes through the stone walls of the hallways.
Having just finished breakfast moments ago, they're now heading towards the courtyard for their riding lessons next. Rickon had claimed his spot over Arya's lap and Osha has work cut out for her with the extra addition of occupants she had to push along the way.
"If I go any faster, you and your sister will end up flying, little lord," Osha replied, keeping a steady pace instead.
"I'd like to fly." He said over his shoulder. Blue eyes glisten with excitement as they capture grey ones.
"Yes, flying would be great, wouldn't it?" Arya breaks into a matching grin with Rickon before he looks up to Osha again.
"Make us fly, Osha." He demanded.
Though Arya cannot see Osha's face, she can sense the older woman's exasperation radiating from behind her.
"I can't really make you fly, little lord," Osha speaks after a moment.
Rickon's face fell at that. "You said you could if you go faster."
"I didn't mean it that way… It would be dangerous if I push this any faster. These wheels aren't exactly made for speed, you see." Osha explained in length.
"Then why didn't you just say so in the beginning?"
Arya schools her face into indifference in return with Rickon's now solemn one. "Yes, Osha…why didn't you just said so in the beginning?"
"I'm sorry, little lord." Osha finally said, sighing.
Rickon lets out a huff. "You're no fun." He jumps off from Arya's lap soon after. And when his feet touch the ground, he sprints forward, almost making himself stumble at the sudden change before he successfully breaks into a run.
"Well, thank you for nothing," Osha commented as Rickon's figure finally vanished down the hallways leaving them behind.
"You should've told him straight away what you want him to do… He's six. Simple words are all he needs." Arya said back, a ghost of smile on her face.
A chuckle left the older woman. "I'll put that under the lists of your many teachings, little lady."
Osha speeds up as there is no extra carriage now. The sound of the wooden wheels hitting the stone floors envelops them both in comfortable silence. A few moments later takes them outside the courtyard. Rickon is already making himself comfortable as he plays with his direwolf, Shaggydog. Nymeria joins them as a third wheel but the direwolf lost interest as soon as she realizes her mistress arrival.
Arya felt a smile forms as Nymeria comes running towards her before the direwolf landed her muzzle none too softly on her middle, nudging her a few times in excitement. It's a good thing Arya is already seated. "Good morning to you too." She greets, rubbing the direwolf's sides with the same affections.
Nymeria hasn't got quite as big as Arya last saw her another lifetime ago in the woods and she wonders if the fact that she kept the direwolf indoor will make any difference. She tried to give as much space for the beast as possible, letting her roamed around Winterfell in hope that Nymeria could grow to her true potential.
"My lady." A voice interrupts her train of thoughts then.
Arya looks up to find Ser Rodrik hovering near, nodding in greeting. "Ser Rodrik." She greets back.
As if in command, Nymeria gives one last nudge before she turns and walks away leaving Arya with the Master-at-arms.
"What do you wish to do today, my lady?" Rodrik asked. He had brought the usual horse the young girl always trained with.
"I wanted to teach Rickon how to ride… He's been asking for it for a while now." Arya remembered how much her little brother pestered her for training since he hasn't had a chance to start properly.
"Of course… I can bring another horse for him." Rodrik was about to do just that before the young Stark stops him.
"Let's use mine first… I can ride with him and guide him through." She suggested. She had bonded with her horse in time and she's confident that she can fully control it now. Besides, her horse is the gentlest breed among the others. This way, she hopes Rickon will slowly gain the confidence to ride one all alone.
The older man looks down at her calculatingly. No doubts picturing the worst thing that could happen to the Stark's children if something were to go wrong.
"You've seen me ride, Ser Rodrik… It'll be fine." She tacks on.
A beat passes before Ser Rodrik finally agrees. As he walks away to get the horse, Arya calls her little brother. Rickon comes running to her in an instant, ready. She chuckles softly at how dishevelled he already is. There are a few smudges of dirt on his clothes, his hair messy and his face sweaty. She wipes his sweat off with the sleeve of her shirt as she explains what will happen. He listens intently, eyes wide and eager.
When Ser Rodrik comes back with a horse in tow, he passes the rein to a stable boy and moves to help the young girl next. He places her carefully onto the saddle then before fastening the many straps on her legs. Rickon joins her soon after that. His back against her front.
"Alright there, little brother?" Arya asked as he wiggles to find a comfortable position. He nods his head after getting the comfort that he seeks.
"Is your horse a 'he' or a 'she'?" Rickon speaks then as he followed her hands from behind him, into gripping the reins with both his hands.
"A 'he'," Arya replied and whistled. At the sound, the horse starts to trot. Their body swayed by the motion created.
"Does he have a name?" Rickon sounded again.
Ser Rodrik is following them close by from behind and Osha has settled across the courtyard, watching them from afar. The other occupants of Winterfell are already tending to their daily chores.
"No, he doesn't." Arya never thought to give her horse one. Mastering the skill to ride was her sole reason. "What do you think we should name him?"
A moment passes as she lets Rickon think of an answer. She pulls the rein to the right, making the horse turns and trots that way.
"I think we should call him Carrot." He suddenly declared.
"What now?"
"Carrot... Because he has the same colour as a carrot."
A chuckle left her freely. The horse they're riding has basic coats of chestnut with slightly reddish-gold colour. Though, his mane and tail are in a lighter shade.
"Are you sure you're not naming him Carrot because you like carrots so much?" Arya asked bemused.
"Of course not." He sounded sure.
"Alright… If we name him Carrot, do you promise not to eat him?" she asked in all seriousness.
Rickon looks over his shoulder with a giggle. "That's silly… I know he's not a real carrot, so I promise I won't eat him."
"That's good then… Carrot it is." She agrees.
Carrot continues trotting along the courtyard at a slow pace as Arya guides him. They had two more rounds around the courtyard before Rickon starts to be restless and is asking to ride one by himself. He had the biggest grin when he finally hops on to another horse and successfully guides it to move on the first try. She praises his effort without missing a beat and he beams further. They go for another round then, this time side by side.
Today could not have started more perfectly than this, Arya thought. The clear sky, fresh morning air and Rickon's smiling face. She could feel that familiar hollowness inside her chest filled almost to the brim.
But then, at the periphery of her vision, she caught the silhouette of Maester Luwin, walking towards them with purpose. Arya halts her horse which Rickon soon followed and waits for the maester to close in. She notices the open scroll in his hand first and when she looks up to his face, he looks subdued, defeated almost. And that glow inside her a while ago vanished and was replaced with dread instead.
Her grips on the rein tighten as Maester Luwin finally arrives. He doesn't look any better up close. Grey eyes lock into brown ones in what Arya felt like the longest time before the maester finally speaks up.
"Arya, I have news…from King's Landing."
She wished he didn't say anything. The tremor in her hands begins, then she realize she's breathing heavily because she knows. She knows what that means. The cheers of the people, Sansa's screaming and then her Father's kneeling. She couldn't get to him then, and she still could not, even now. She blinks and the vision cleared, replacing Maester Luwin's forlorn expression instead.
"It's your father… I'm sorry Arya."
Arya would have thought that by now, none of it would affect her that much. After all, she has mourned for him, more than once. But, she was completely wrong. There was something horrible that creeps over her like an icy chill, numbing her senses. Yet, she feels the heat from every part of her body at the same time.
She needs to get whatever those are out because if she doesn't, she might combust and freeze to death right there and then. Her body leans backwards in a sudden motion and she notices late that she was the one pulling the reins so hard earning a loud whine from her horse before he starts to gallop at her instruction.
She ignores the frantic calling of her name from the many people she left behind as she rides away in increasing speed. The guards stationed at the main gate were shouting among themselves before they finally decide to open the gate wider for their lady to pass through. Outside, the cold wind slaps her face so hard that it hurts. Her eyes sting and she lets the tears down as she's being carried away.
*
The day is as perfect as Arya thought before. The sun is shining bright and there are no grey clouds, only blue skies for as long as her eyes can see. Even the air is warmer than usual and her tears had long dried now. She didn't know how far she has gone and how long the time has passed since she rides away from Winterfell. And honestly, she didn't care about any of it.
Carrot has decided to stop at his own will when she gave up in guiding him moments ago. So now, here they are on one of the hills, watching the sun rises from the horizons. Nymeria has been with Arya ever since she steps out of her home and the direwolf is still there by her side, acting as a silent companion as the young Stark wallows in her grief.
Absentmindedly, Arya rubs Carrot's neck, apologizing and soothing him for the sudden exertion she had placed on him earlier. He neighs softly at the contact. The quiet of the surrounding takes her mind to revisit what Bran in her dreams had advised. His words - more like a warning now that she really thought about it - had initially made her scared of what's to come, especially for a certain silver-haired queen. But now, she felt nothing but rage and resentment towards him and herself. She wonders if he's happy now. This is what he wants after all.
The sudden movement of Nymeria breaks her train of thoughts as the direwolf turns the other way and Arya can hear the multiple approaching hooves from behind. Carrot grew restless at the oncoming riders so she reached to pet her horse in a comforting manner where he relaxes at the touch.
The gallops are becoming louder and faster by the seconds before they finally stop not far. If Arya has to guess there is more than one rider behind her right now. She should probably turn and confirm if they are enemies or worse than that. But, she couldn't find it in her to care or even acknowledge any of them. She can even forget about their existence as they decide not to approach any further and let her be. But, after a moment though, a soft thud sounded and grew closer by the second before the lone rider appears on her right.
"Well, I don't think you need any more training, little lady… You rode like the wind itself." Osha's voice sounded then.
Arya's only response was the blink of her eye as she still looks ahead.
A soft sigh escapes the older woman at the lack of reaction. "I'm sorry about your Father, Arya." She tried again, but the young Stark was still unresponsive so she decides to continue anyway. "I lost my husband not long ago… Bruni, his name was. He was killed by a man from my clan – stabbed from behind. I saw when it happened and when I confronted the man about it, he denied it and everyone else believed him... So, I sneaked into his home and put a spear through his eye."
The young Stark turns her head at that. "Is that why you ran away? Are they looking for you?"
Osha shrugs. "Probably." At the questioning gaze from the younger girl, she continues. "I left because I have no home anymore… Bruni was my home."
Arya looks ahead again at that. Her Father was her home. And now she had lost him yet again. And soon she will be left with nothing.
"If you were sent back in time to save the person you love then and the person you'll come to love in the future, which one will you choose?"
The older woman frowns at the sudden question that seems to come out of nowhere. The younger girl's face looks vacant as she stares ahead at nothingness again. Osha decides to go along with it then, thinking the question over. "Why do I have to choose one? Can't I have both?"
Grey eyes captured black ones. "No, you can't."
"Why?"
Bran's words ring through her ears. "Because one is supposed to die and one isn't. And if both lived then innocent people will die instead."
"That's very specific," Osha commented.
Arya gives no answer to that and lets the silence envelops them instead. It lasted for a while and she almost didn't think she would hear an answer but then Osha finally spoke. "When Bruni died, there was a big part of me that was lost as well and I can't ever get that back… If I can go back and stop that from happening, then I will. Even if it means that I'll be losing in one way or another. At least I know that I've done my best… Because what's worse is doing nothing about it when you've given a second chance."
The sun has gradually risen in the sky now, further warming the surrounding. Arya grips the reins tighter as the older woman's words hit her every nerve. She turns her horse, her mind sets and her heart determined.
It's time to go home.
*
As soon as she gets back, she searched for Rickon, finding him in his room. Shaggydog was with him as they sat comfortably on the bed, minding their own business.
"Hey, little brother."
Rickon looks up from petting his direwolf to find Arya by the door. The young girl wheeled her way in then, Nymeria by her side which soon moves forward to meet Shaggydog.
"Hey." He greets softly as he moves to sit by the bed. "Where did you go?" he asked. Blue eyes locked into grey ones.
"Nowhere… I just had to get away for a while."
"Was it because of what happened to Father?"
Arya grabs a fistful of the furs on her lap tightly. "Yes… Did Maester Luwin tell you what happened?"
He nodded and then. "Is our Father a criminal?"
A frown forms on her face. "What? No. He's not." She stated firmly but he looks unconvinced. She moves closer towards him then, taking his hands into her own. "Our Father told the truth about the false King Joffrey and he was punished for it… He is nothing short of a just and honourable man. Don't ever let anyone else tell you differently."
Rickon looks down to their tangled hands. "If he's a good man, then why did he leave us? Why did he die?" he asked, looking up again with glistening eyes.
Her heart broke at that sight. She reached to cradle his face gently as she thinks of what to say. But, she struggles to find a good enough answer so she chooses to wrap her arms around him instead, hoping to shield him away from the cruelty of life even if it was for a moment.
Rickon snuggles in closer, moving to wrap his arms around in return. It lasted for a while before he finally pulls away. Arya studies the young boy in front. At his now determined gaze, his messy hair and his youthful features. They brought a pang of regret to her but also a new resolution. She grips his shoulders firmly then.
"I will be truthful with you Rickon, I don't know what will happen now... Things might get worse or it might get better. But whatever it is, I want you to be strong for our family and for yourself."
He straightens himself. "I can be strong... I even know how to ride now. It'll be useful."
She smiled. "Yes. It certainly will." And she's done being useless, as well.