Arya accepts the truth.
New POV, but she'll be staying from now on. I figured Sansa couldn't be the only POV at Winterfell, and Bran isn't a choice. Yet. I have one Bran POV coming in the future, but it's almost at the end of the story.
I wanted to write something else, but I remembered that we haven't seen her reaction to Jon's real name yet. And I promised we wouldn't skip that, so here we go. The other stuff can wait. This is pretty important.
Enjoy. Next chapter on Wednesday.
32. Not No One - Arya
Petyr Baelish. Arya had to remember that was the name she needed to answer to when someone called her. Wearing someone's face only changed how they viewed her, not how she viewed herself. I am Arya of House Stark, she had to be reminded, every time she spotted her reflection on a shiny surface. I am not No One. Not anymore.
"How does it work?" Sansa's voice broke the silence. Her sister had been staring for a long time, seemingly transfixed at the sight of a dead man walking right in front of her.
The face responded to her voice. Sansa, my love, Arya seemed to hear in her mind. She remembered that Jaqen H'ghar had warned of this, of how the faces sometimes carried their memories and traumas with them. Her first night of sleep after putting on the face of Petyr Baelish had been plagued by strange dreams, where she lusted after her mother Catelyn, who turned into her sister Sansa, who turned into her aunt Lysa, who pushed her down, making her fall for a very long time, before finally waking up. The man was obsessed with the women of our family, until one of us killed him.
I need a break. Arya put a hand on the invisible seam under her jaw, pulling the face away. Sansa gasped, raising a hand to cover her mouth, then she turned around to make sure nobody was watching. I made sure of that a long time ago. Arya was no stranger to being unnoticed. She had locked all doors and windows to the library well before they started this conversation.
"It's too complicated to explain, but basically I can fool everyone if they don't come too close." Arya replied, evenly. She knew that if anyone touched her, they would be able to tell the difference, and the glamour would fade.
Sansa seemed to be in deep thought. After a long while, she said, "Robin isn't very bright, so he should be fooled easily… It's the other Vale lords I'm worried about. We'll need their soldiers if what Jon said was true."
"Where is Jon?" Arya asked, frowning in suspicion.
The only reason she came to Winterfell was because of what Hot Pie had said, that Jon was King in the North. She longed to see her big brother again, to have him muss up her hair, and give her a hug and tell her, I missed you, little sister. It didn't take long for her hope to become disappointment, the moment she stood at the South Gate in front of those stupid guards. Sansa was Queen in the North now, and Jon is nowhere to be found…
"He left for Dragonstone, to treat with Daenerys Targaryen." Her sister replied, sounding like she had said that many times before. "It's been over a week, but he hasn't sent any word yet." A crease marred her brow, and Arya could tell she was worried.
"But isn't he the King in the North?" She asked, still a bit confused. Then a strange notion crept in her mind. "Or are you two…?" Married? Would Sansa really go that far just for a crown? No, Jon would never accept that. She was always horrible to him. Arya paused. To us.
Sansa's eyes widened and she laughed out loud, opening her mouth to show her perfect teeth. "No, Arya, I'm not married to Jon. I wouldn't marry my own brother." Then she frowned, saying, "Interesting that you'd think so, though. The reason he lost the crown is because he's not really our brother."
"Yes, he is!" Arya protested loudly, emotion filling her voice. "He's a Stark, and he's always been one. Just because you hate him so much that-"
"Arya!" Sansa interrupted her, the smile returning to her face. "Of course he'll always be a Stark, that's not what I meant. Just calm down and listen for a while, alright?"
She took a deep breath.
No One wouldn't have lost her temper. Faceless Men have no emotions.
But I am not No One. I am Arya Stark, and I love my brother.
With a hint of a smile on her face, she finally said, "Fine."
Sansa nodded. "You might want to sit down. It's quite a lot to take in." She moved towards a reading table with four chairs surrounding it, and took a seat herself.
Arya was going to refuse the offer and stand, but watching her sister move to sit down, she sighed and followed her lead. She always loved bossing people around when they were younger. Now she finally gets to do it with a crown on her head.
"Do you know a man named Howland Reed?" Sansa asked, raising her eyebrows.
Arya nodded. "He's father's friend, the Lord of Greywater Watch in the Neck." She remembered her lessons with maester Luwin, who had made sure all children of Winterfell knew who ruled every castle and keep in the North.
"Indeed. He knew father very well, and their friendship extends even beyond death." Sansa said gravely, with a pained expression on her face. "When father needed friends to help him search for aunt Lyanna, Lord Howland was one of them."
Father never talked about Lyanna. The few times he had said anything, it was usually a lecture. You have the wolf blood in you, girl, just like her, he would say, whenever Arya acted out. I pray you don't end up like her, he would often add in a sad tone. Some people had also told her she looked like her aunt, but that's unlikely, since she was famous for her beauty. I'm only Arya Horseface, she thought bitterly.
Sansa was still talking, "At the end of Robert's Rebellion, father found her. She was hidden in Dorne, at a tower guarded by two kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower." She paused here, looking at Arya.
Is she expecting a question? Just finish the tale.
"Why were two kingsguard at the tower, you ask?" Grinning, Sansa asked her own question, then answered, "To protect the heir to the Iron Throne. You see, aunt Lyanna had married Rhaegar Targaryen in secret, and their union produced a baby boy. It was that baby they were protecting."
"We have a cousin?" Arya asked, before her mind worked the pieces of the puzzle, eyes widening as she did so.
If Jon's not our brother… And we have a cousin…
No… That can't be true… If so, then that baby is…
"...Jon?" Her voice seemed distant from her own mouth, as if coming from someone else.
Sansa nodded. "Yes. Jon is aunt Lyanna's son, by Rhaegar Targaryen. Father took him and raised him as a bastard to protect him from Robert Baratheon, but his mother had named him Aegon."
Arya fell silent for a long time, trying to work things out in her mind. Father didn't sleep with some strange woman during the war and brought a bastard home, he just pretended to do that to keep his nephew safe. Even from his wife. Mother had always treated Jon terribly. Treating a bastard poorly wasn't kind, but treating a prince the same way…
Jon is a Targaryen prince. And he had been one from the very beginning. All those games they played as children, when they pretended to be ancient heroes, like Aemon the Dragonknight, or Visenya, those heroes were Jon's family all along. He's a dragon.
But he has always been my hero.
"It all makes sense now…" Her voice was hoarse, as she remembered all the moments she cried and he was there for her, to make her smile again. The only one who really understood her, who never forced her to be something she wasn't, who would play swords with her, even when father forbid it.
He gave me Needle.
"Of course he's a prince… What else could he be?" Arya started laughing, her eyes watering from the emotion she had been hiding under the surface the whole time. She wanted to run to Dragonstone and find him, to tell him this didn't change anything, because nothing in this world could ever change how she felt about him.
He's my brother. And I'm his little sister.
Sansa sat there, watching her intently. "I know… Though it took me longer than you to realise it." Her expression changed to guilt. "Growing up here at Winterfell, I wasn't very kind to him. Or to you." She stared into Arya's eyes, the blue shining. "I'm sorry. I was a silly, stupid little girl."
"Yes, you were." Arya said, a bit too quickly. Then she sighed. "But I suppose I wasn't very nice to you either. You were always so prim and proper, and I hated that. Mother, Septa Mordane, father, everyone wanted me to be just as good as you. Everyone except Jon." Her expression brightened for a moment, before she went on, "You don't know what it's like to have an older sister who makes you look worse just by standing next to her. It's no wonder everyone called me Horseface."
Sansa huffed. "You should look into a mirror now, sister. You're beautiful."
Arya rolled her eyes. Her courtesies remain perfect. "My point is that I'm also sorry." She ignored the compliment. "I came here to find my brother, but I forgot that my sister might need me too." Arya moved to stand up, Petyr Baelish's clothes hanging loose on her slender frame. "So I'll be here if you need me, my Queen." She said, giving a short bow.
The Queen in the North grinned, getting up from her chair. Then, as fast as a blur, she was squeezing Arya in a fierce hug. "I missed you." She said, holding her tightly.
Arya hesitated for a moment, before wrapping her arms around her sister, welcoming the feelings in her heart, as she replied, "I missed you too."
Not gonna lie, this chapter made me cry. Arya & Jon is by far my favorite relationship. Well, favorite platonic relationship.
So much so, that my original draft had Arya following Jon to Dragonstone. But Sansa needed her more, so she'll stay at Winterfell a little longer.
By the way, Dark Sister is going to end up with Arya. Spoiler alert. One thing I won't spoil is how the Faceless Men will show up again (dammit, I gotta stop doing that). Well, there you go. Arya needs her own arc too.
30/06/2019