As Jon hurried across the courtyard, eager to meet the newest addition to house Stark, he pondered on the past and how the old Gods must have bribed and conspired to bring this little one into existence.

It can't have been an easy task, especially since the first time Tormund met Arya there was a wee bit of confusion, the kind that nearly got him disemboweled.

~)*(~

"Whose child is this?" Tormund had asked him the first time he laid eyes on Arya, patting the pint-sized Stark on the head as he took a swig of his ale.

"Jon," Arya growled in warning, hand clutching needle by the handle. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cut him down like a big dumb weed?"

Jon quickly stood between them as her fingers gripped the blade at her side.

"Tormund," Jon said. "This is Arya, my sister."

Tormund looked her up and down before nodding his head. "You know, It's interesting. I have daughters much younger than you, only taller. You must take after your brother," he eventually concluded, slapping Jon on the back with a bark of laughter.

~)*(~

"For the last time, Winterfell isn't in the south," Arya hissed through her teeth.

Tormund crossed his arms and leaned back on his heel. "Tell me, what's South of the Wall?"

"Winterfell."

Tormund smiled. "Exactly," he said, pointing a finger at her.

Arya closed her eyes and leaned her head back, cursing under her breath. "I hate you," she had hissed.

Tormund gave a hearty laugh, "Yeah, and I liked you better when I thought you were a child."

~)*(~

"Careful with that, little one," Tormund said as Arya practiced her knife skills on a dummy in the Winterfell courtyard.

Arya turned to face him, her eyes like steel. "Stop calling me that you witless troll!" She yelled.

Tormund rolled his eyes and continued sharpening his blade. "Well, what am I supposed to call you?" he asked before shaking his head and adding mockingly. "My lady?"

Arya straightened her posture and walked towards him confidently. "I'm not a lady, that's Sansa. I'm a fighter. A killer. A warrior. A woman."

Tormund snorted. "You're not a woman, that," he said, pointing towards Brienne as she walked across the courtyard. "That's a woman!"

Arya's upper lip twitched as she kicked up a spray of snow, hitting him square in the face.

~)*(~

Tormund watched with daggers in his eyes as Arya flirted with the blacksmith Gendry.

"What do you see in that boy anyway?" Tormund asked her when she made her way over to him.

"Who, Gendry?" She asked, looking behind her.

"Yeah, the pretty boy who makes the swords," he said spitefully.

"He's just a friend," Arya told him, taking a bite of bread.

"He's got little baby arms," Tormund noted aloud.

Arya snorted. "Are you- are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Tormund scoffed. "All I'm saying is I could break his little legs with my bare hands and pick my teeth with his bones."

~)*(~

When Arya told them she wanted to sail West, Jon and Sansa tried to convince her to stay, they had won back their home Sansa had said, it was Tormund who put a wise hand on Jon's shoulder and told him they had to let her go.

"She's wild, like the true North," he told him in a proud voice, despite the ghost of sadness in his misty blue eyes.

So, they let her go, and every day for two years Tormund stared out across the western horizon, just in case she found her way back home.

~)*(~

When Arya returned home from her exploration of the West, it was like she never left. Everyone was there to greet her, including her old friend Gendry Baratheon, and much to the poor man's disappointment, it was the wildling with fiery red hair and a barking laugh that she gravitated towards first.

"You look taller than I remember," Arya said as Tormund smiled at her from across the courtyard.

"Aye," he said, admiring the new scar on her left cheek. "And you've grown more beautiful."

If Jon wasn't mistaken, for the first time in his life, he saw Arya blush.

~)*(~

There wasn't anyone happier at Arya and Tormund's surprising union than Brienne.

"Listen," Tormund said to Brienne as Arya stood at his side one morning. "I know there was something special between us once," he said solemnly as Brienne's face contorted with disgust. "But this," he said resting his hand on Arya's shoulder briefly before she managed to slap it away. "This is my Northern star."

Arya rolled her eyes and clutched needle, "Come on Brienne, lets spar," she said turning away from him. "And Tormund?"

"Yes, my love," He answered, his sympathetic eyes never once leaving Brienne.

"Fetch me an ale."

~)*(~

When Arya told him they were expecting, Tormund reacted exactly how Arya assumed he would.

"Don't you dare start crying," she raised her eyebrows in warning.

Tormund's big blue eyes glistened as he cleared his throat. "Oh this," he said pointing to his eyes with a sniff and a small laugh. "It's just southern allergies."

Arya rolled her eyes, unamused. "We're in the North and it's the dead of Winter."

Eventually Tormund exploded with emotion, bending down to scoop her up and swing her around joyfully in his arms. "I know, I'm just so happy!" He declared.

End.