The alcohol kept them both in a deep stupor through the rest of the night and into the morning. A throat clearing woke them both up and Arya was surprised to find her head resting comfortably on Jaime's shoulder, body tucked up against his side and sharing in his warmth as they slept. She pulled herself away, glancing around to see who had found them. She was relieved to see Bronn smirking down at them rather than Tywin or someone who would report back to him. She had the feeling he wouldn't let this little mishap go should he know about it.
"Time to rise and shine, cuddle bugs. The camp's breaking down as we speak and daddy came knocking looking for you already."
The mention of Tywin was enough was enough to rouse Jaime as well, though he looked bleary eyed and almost vulnerable in a way she had never gotten to see him before. They quickly rose and began moving through the familiar motions of packing up the camp, despite the headache's they all bore that morn. Tywin found them when they were getting ready to mount, looking them both over suspiciously and then pulling his son aside for a private word.
Jaime was frowning lightly when he reappeared but she didn't ask and he didn't offer explanation. They set off in somber silence, the cheer from the night before faded with the coals and everyone well aware that they would arrive that their destination just after high noon. The day passed both quickly and seemed to take an age, but they were soon riding upon Winter Town and the churning in her stomach was worse than ever.
She started to drop back further in the company to fade into the background but Tywin froze her with a frigid glance as he nudged his mount beside hers. When he spoke, his tone was stern but also encouraging, and pitched to not carry. "You are of Stark blood and we approach your home. The only person here capable of making you feel cowed is you, yourself. How you present yourself when you meet them again for the first time will stick in their minds for the rest of their days, and of yours. It is up to you, here and now, to decide how that presentation will occur- what impression will you leave them with? Will it be of you slinking around like shade and hiding with the common foot soldiers, or will you be sitting tall and proud as you meet them head on, a woman in your own right, tested and experienced, and more than capable of standing before them on your own feet?"
She swallowed hard and then nodded, squaring her shoulders and remaining at the front where she'd ridden since joining their company. Jaime squared up on his father's other side and they road three abreast through Winter Town and to Winterfell proper. A few others of their party broke away with them to form a second line just behind theirs, while the rest of the army formed ranks in an large stretch of open field. A messenger had already ridden ahead to give word of their coming, and so a party waited to welcome them as they passed through the gates.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took in her family awaiting in a line across the courtyard before the keep. A man grown with Robbs features stood in the center, her aged Mother standing to one side of him while an unfamiliar woman stood on his other side, young child hiding behind her skirts and another on her hip. Sansa stood beside her mother, red hair gleaming under the dull winter sun, tall and perfect and more beautiful than ever.
Bran was seated in a chair beside her, thick fur over his legs to fight the chill. He was staring at her already, she realized, despite the fact that he couldn't yet see her face. Her hood had been up since it had begun snowing quite heavily a couple of hours past, and so no one else seemed to take any notice of her immediately.
A boy who looked like a miniature, more wild version, of Robb rounded off the line, a plain faced woman with dark uncombed hair standing at his shoulder. The direwolves lay scattered around them on the ground unbothered by the newcomers.
They all moved to dismount, leaving them on equal footing. "Lord Tywin." Robb greeted, sounding forced. "We welcome you and your companions to Winterfell. Thank you for answering our call. We have quarters prepared for you and your council and bid you join us for supper so we might welcome you more formally to our halls."
"I thank you for your welcome, but I will continue to reside with my men. My council may decide themselves as to they will where they sleep. We thank you for your invitation to dine with you and will happily accept."
Robb nodded, looking unsurprised and perhaps even a little relieved that Tywin wouldn't be sleeping within the keep. The required formalities continued. "Allow me to introduce my family. You know my mother, Lady Catelyn of House Tully. This is my Lady wife, Talisa of House Maegyr, my heir, Prince Eddard, second of his name, and my daughter Aenela. You've met my sister, Lady Sansa, already, I believe? And these are my younger brothers, Bran and Rickon." The courtesies were observed as they went down the line and then it was Tywin's turn.
"Please, allow me to introduce you to my Grandson by Law and Member for Dorne of the Kings Small Council, Prince Trystane Martell. Most of you have already met my son and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister-" and didn't it still burn a little to not be able to name him his heir in turn. "-my brother and the Master of Coin, Kevan Lannister, Lord Mace Tyrell, Master of Ships, and.." He allowed his voice to trail off for a moment, eyeing her pointedly. "I don't believe my last companion needs introduction, actually."
His odd statement led to all eyes resting curiously upon her and she cursed him slightly in her head even though she knew she hadn't left him with many options, shrouded as she still was in her black cloak and hood. She took a steadying breath and stepped forward, lowering her hood in the same moment so as not to give herself any more time to delay the inevitable, her cloak falling open with the upward motion of her arms and leaving her petite frame visible, and with it the obvious curves of her womanhood.
She knew she must look a sight after two months of travel in comparison to their own freshly scrubbed skin and clean clothes. She knew her hair was a mess and that her cheeks were likely flushed from the cold. Her lips were chapped and the black plain spun shirt she borrowed from Jaime who typically wore them beneath his armor hung too large on her frame and made her look disheveled despite its high quality. That she wore men's pants and scuffed traveling boots with it didn't help the situation in the least.
Her features had matured even if she hadn't gained much in height, her body had become strong and toned whereas before it was slender simply because of the skinniness of youth. Still, her large grey eyes were the same, as was her nose and the shape of her mouth. Her cheekbones had sharpened but still cut the same line across her face and the bend of her jaw remained unchanged despite the loss of its remaining youthful softness. She wondered in the moment if they would even recognize her. She wasn't sure how she might respond if asked to explain her presence before the King in the North
Luckily, if a bit surprisingly, her sister spoke up before their mother. "Arya?" The redhead gasped, pale hand rising to cover her mouth in her shock, clear blue eyes filling immediately with tears as all polite stoicism fell away from her face. She broke away from the neat line of her family and hurried across the ground to reach her, wrapping her immediately in her long and graceful arms. Arya felt even smaller and more out of place as she noticed her sisters beautiful blue dress become smudged from her own dirty clothing but there was naught she could do about it beyond forcing herself free, and she wasn't at that point quite yet.
She realized she ought to do something in return as she heard her sister sob that she thought her surely dead. Her own arms rose more slowly to return the embrace, though any time she thought of saying something in turn she found the words sticking in her throat. "I, I'm glad to see you as well, sister." She finally managed. She managed to look past her taller sister as she spoke and locked eyes with Lannister green. Jaime sent her a half encouraging, half sympathetic smile
At the sound of her voice she heard her mother breakdown where she stood beside Robb, leaning most of her weight on the strong arm of her eldest son. "Arya?" The aging woman whispered weakly, stumbling forward and drawing her attention back. Sansa pulled away, reaching up to dab at her eyes as she stepped back to allow her mother access. "Oh, my sweet child!" She practically moaned and she draped herself in a hug around her youngest daughter. "I thought you lost to us, I thought I'd never see you again."
Had she not been so fit, Arya might have grunted under the weight of her mother. Instead she was able to shift her stance to provide her more stability and then offer her an embrace back. Catelyn dissolved into sobs, though she could still be heard mummering something every few seconds. Arya began to feel more and more uncomfortable the longer the scene went on, a fact of which was clear to those in attendance who knew her best and was quickly becoming clear to those who no longer did.
Thankfully, Sansa began prying Catelyn free just before Arya thought she might have to do so herself, if only to breath freely for a moment. Her good-sister hurried forward to help and they supported the near hysteric woman between the two of them. Robb approached her next, smiling down at her and drawing her into a strong hug of his own. Luckily his didn't last nearly as long and she was released after just a few moments, though he paused to press a thankful kiss to her forehead, whispering 'Thank the gods for your return' as he did so.
She turned her head to see Bran smiling at her softly, even if his eyes didn't seem quite all there. She glanced around briefly before approaching his chair-bound form, finding herself actually wanting to give an embrace of her own for the first time. The last time she'd seen her little brother, he'd been still and unconscious in a featherbed much to large for his small, broken body, and they'd been unsure if he'd ever wake again even as they rode from the city.
She leant over to wrap him in her arms and felt one of his rise to embrace her in return. "Sister, I am pleased you finally decided to return home." He murmured in her ear. She pulled away and glanced down at his too-knowing tone but her attention was soon drawn to his side and too the wild looking boy watching her suspiciously. Rickon was only six when she left, would he even remember her- she wondered to herself as she stepped closer, hyperaware of the silence of the courtyard behind her save for her mother's continued sniffles.
Despite his young age, the boy already stood more than a head taller than her and he seemed to feel even more out of place than she did, judging by his discreet fidgeting and uncomfortable expression. He mumbled something she couldn't quite grasp and drew Bran's eyes to him in slight reproach. Rickon dropped his eyes for a moment before glancing back at her stubbornly. "Sister." He finally said quietly in greeting, voice curing around an odd accent she couldn't quite place.
"Brother." She replied, hearing the soft Braavosi burr she'd acquired from so long primarily speaking the language come through in her own tone. She wasn't quite sure why she allowed it, fully capable of controlling her voice down to the smallest detail, but perhaps she did so to show him that he wasn't the only one in their family out of place in Winterfell- that she was, too. She'd heard that Theon had sacked Winterfell in the name of the Greyjoy's whilst Catelyn was with Robb and the Northern Army, but she hadn't heard what had happened to her two youngest brothers who had remained in the keep when it happened.
She didn't try and hug him, sensing he might not be open to the gesture. Instead she held out a hand, smiling slightly when he grasped it in one of his own and squeezed before dropping it again. She glanced to the woman standing almost protectively behind him, watching her guardedly. "Hello," She greeted the woman who had gone unmentioned, despite her physical closeness to her family. The woman glanced down at Rickon and then across at Lady Catelyn before looking back at the one addressing her.
"M'lady." She murmured, voice raspy.
"Please, my name is Arya. What's yours?"
"I'm called Osha, M'lady." She replied.
"Where are you from, Osha?" she questioned, tilting her head curiously.
The woman glanced up at her from her lowered gaze, an almost challenging gleam in her eye at the question. It made Arya even more curious before she finally responded. "You won't have heard of it."
"How do you know?"
"Do you know the names of many villages beyond the wall, M'lady?"
Arya's smile grew larger and truer than it was before. "I wish I did." She responded, practically glowing at the realization that she was speaking with an actual wildling. It had been a dream of hers as a girl, after all. "I've always wanted to go beyond the wall. It's probably not the best idea right now, obviously, but perhaps once the fighting is done mayhap you can teach me of your villages so I might visit."
"Mayhaps." The woman allowed, though her own face had softened at the honesty in Arya's tone.
"Well," Robb interrupted, drawing her attention back to the rest. "That has been a rather unexpected turn of events, though perhaps the best we've had in years. If you'll excuse us, I believe our family needs some time. Please, if any of you would like to take our offer of a room inside our walls, let my Lady Wife know and she will see you to them. I do hope you see you all at supper."
Her mother and sister somehow appeared beside her and began leading her away despite her reluctance. At least her mother had gathered herself enough to be smiling at her with damp eyes, sobs seeming contained. She glanced back over her shoulder before she was tugged through a doorway to see the Lannister father and son watching her go with matching conflicted expressions.
She was marched inside to her mother's solar and pressed down until she sat on a sofa and surrounded by her family. Her mother sat just beside her, clasping her hands and flittering in her seat. "Arya…" She began, still sounding dazed. Arya couldn't help but notice the grey beginning to streak her copper hair and the deep-set wrinkles that marred her once ageless face. "My sweet wild-child. I can't believe all my children have come home, praise the Old Gods and New. Where have you been? We though you perished years ago." Desperation to know tinged her mothers voice and she felt a jolt of guilt pierce her.
Part of her wanted to tell her tale true, but she knew she couldn't tell everything and what she could tell would simply lead to more questions. "I've.. I've been all over, Mother. Most of it passed unremarkably, to tell you the truth. Nothing very exciting at all."
"Why didn't you come home?" Her mother pleaded, not sounding at all appeased. "Why didn't you come back to us?"
"I.. I couldn't.. I had things I had to do first, but I came as soon as I could."
"What things? Nothing is more important than our family. You should have been here with us!"
Arya shook her head, unsure what to say. She pulled free and rose from her mother's side, turning to Robb and his wife who had just joined them, where they were standing together nearby. "Robb said you are a Maegyr?" She asked lightly, turning the subject to on she was not the center of. The woman nodded gracefully, darting a glance at Arya's brother as she did so. "I met a Maegyr once- a Sulvan Maegyr, but it was a quite long way from here. I wonder if there might be a relation?"
Sulvan Maegyr was one of the three Triarchs of Volantes. The elected rulers were considered so honored that it was said their feet wouldn't touch the ground a single time during their rule. They rode elephants or were carried in a litter through the city if they had a need to leave their palace. Though only one with knowledge of the workings of the Free City of Volantes would likely recognize the name, she was still surprised that none in her family seemed to. She thought war, if nothing else, might make them more aware of the world outside of Westeros and Winterfell specifically.
Her new Good Sister nodded, watching her cautiously. "Sulvan is my Grandfather, though his company is hard to come by. I would wonder how you found yourself in it?"
In truth, it hadn't been her who'd found herself in his company but Jaqen. A man in a position of such power in a city of such wealth- was it any wonder he had an almost, amicable, relationship with the House of Black and White? She'd been tasked with shadowing him for a time and learning everything she could from her observations. Volantis was one of the more… interesting… cities she discovered in their year of travel. "The winds blow all directions." She replied vaguely rather than giving any sort of answer.
Sansa spoke before the resulting silence could drag. "We'll have to have a feast to welcome you home! Things aren't so tight that we can celebrate your return. We'll have to give the hunters until tomorrow, at least, so we won't be able to host it tonight. But that's alright- it'll give the seamstress time to sew you a gown that will fit you properly! I don't imagine any of your girlhood clothes will still fit you, even if you haven't grown much in height." She continued. Arya could hear the forced note in her voice as she prattled on, and she appreciated the effort her sister went to in order to avoid further awkwardness than what was already felt naturally so nodded along appropriately as her mother joined in and the two of them discussed her wardrobe.
Appreciation or no, she could only take talk of colors and fabric for a limited time before she snapped and so she turned back to her present older brother. "I heard Jon was here, but I haven't seen nor heard of him since I arrived. Where is he?" She asked.
Robb darted a quick look at their mother before answering. "Ahh, he stays with his men most days. Come, I'll show you to his camp." She could see her mother scowl at the mention of her half-brother even without turning her head and felt her heart sink at knowing he was still likely facing her ire for simply daring to exist in her home.
She nodded her thanks and hurried across the room, not meeting their eyes despite Tywin's words echoing in her ears. What sort of impression might she be leaving them with, indeed? Never before had she felt so out of place and, as much as she tried to pretend otherwise, she feared the others might have picked up on her obvious discomfort.
She followed Robb back through the keep and out into the open. She could see the familiar outline of the Lannister camp taking shape in the distance, but they turned the other way. They soon came upon rows and rows of tents made of naught but rough prepared white and grey animal hide and fewer of the plain black fabrics the Night's watch was known for. They approached a tent that looked like all the others surrounding it and Robb knocked his knuckles against one of the wooden supports before he ducked inside.
Arya followed a bit more hesitantly and looked across the glare of a warm fire once she was inside. Jon- her favorite person in the world- stood across from her, staring in shock. "Arya?" He mouthed almost silently, recognizing her immediately, before he crossed the canvas in a few large strides. He swept her fully into his arms in a bone crushing hug until her feet her dangling clear of the ground and then spun her around in one, two, three circles. She embraced him just as tightly, clenching her eyes closed as his familiar curly hair tickled her face.
"I missed you too, brother." She replied, pulling back as he set her on her feet.
"I wasn't sure I'd get to see you again. Everyone was convinced of your death, it was hard to remain positive at times." His warm, sword calloused hand cupped the side of her face and his warm chapped lips pressed a heartfelt kiss against her forehead. "Gods, I can't believe you're here!"
"I think I might be too stubborn to give in to the Gods."
"Aye, I think you might be right!" He agreed with a choked sounding laugh. "May that trait remain true here as well."
"What are they like?" She asked. "The dead men? I've heard stories, but not from anyone whose actually fought them."
He peered down at her curiously but didn't dismiss her outright like many would. "And why would you need to know that?" He asked instead. She saw Robb shift uncomfortably to the side of the tent, but he didn't move to interrupt.
"I know a thing or two about fighting now." She answered softly. "And it's always better to know your enemy than to not."
"Well I can't argue with that logic. They're formidable, to be honest. They feel no fear, they never tire, and they have numbers that make it seem almost pointless to cut one down.."
"How do you kill them?"
"Valerian steel works. Dragon glass. Fire. Killing a white walker also kills all the wights it's raised, but they're not east to get to."
"Those are the only ways?"
"They only way's we've found so far."
She nodded, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry I stayed away so long."
He smiled at her again, fondly. "I'm just glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?"
"'Course I'm okay."
"How'd you get here, anyway? Did you make the journey on your own? Where have you been?"
"I arrived with the Lannister Army." She answered honestly, watching for his reaction. "I knew Lord Tywin a long time ago, and when I met his troop at the Crossroad, he offered me to travel with them. Safety in numbers, and all that."
"The Lannisters?" He sounded dismayed but hid it for the most part. "Did they treat you well?"
"Of course they did. Lord Tywin has always treated me well, as has Sir Jaime." She told him honestly. "I very likely owe Lord Tywin my life."
He nodded slowly but didn't argue. "Where were you before you met him at the Crossroad?" He tentatively pushed. "If you don't mind my asking."
She looked up at his features, so like her own, and the words came easy where before she couldn't manage to bring them to life. "I was in Essos- In the Free city of Braavos, where I went to meet another man who saved my life once, and who offered to teach me his ways."
"His ways?" Jon asked, sounded suspicious again at her vague story.
She felt the urge to bite her lip but didn't allow herself the tell. "As a Faceless man." She whispered the words for the second time in a day.
"A Faceless man?" He questioned, tone shifted. "As in, the order of priests who warship Death as the one true God… The Assassins Guild?"
"One in the same." She whispered, wondering what she would do if he reacted badly. Jaime had taken it well enough, but he was plenty enough fucked up in his own ways that he was more on her level. Jon and Robb were honorable men, if they were still anything like their Father- and she was sure they were, being now a King and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch…
"Gods, Arya. You never choose to do anything easy, do you?"
"Nothing easy is even worth doing." She repeated back the words that had been spoken to her so recently. Her brothers exchanged a long look and Robb moved closer to join them.
"Arya," Her eldest brother began cautiously. "If you joined the order of the Faceless Men, how are you here now? I thought their service to Death sworn for life?"
She dropped her eyes down to her hands, small scars dotting their surface from hours upon hours of weapons play. "I left before I swore myself to the House- When I heard of the Great Gathering, actually. I knew I couldn't stay away any longer so I boarded the next ship sailing for Westeros and I came home."
"You just left?" Jon questioned next, sounding concerned. "Arya, most places like that don't care for their members just leaving. Do we need worry about them coming after you?"
Her shoulders tensed into a shrug. "Ask me again if we live longer enough for it to matter."
"You might have been safer in Essos." Jon told her, tone regretful.
"Valar Morghulis." She told him firmly. "All men must die. I am not afraid to meet Him if my time comes to a close." She translated at their looks of confusion. "Though, speaking of Essos- where is the Dragon Queen? I heard she sailed for Westeros with her army months ago. I thought I would meet her here."
"Part of her army is out scouting the wilds. The Queen took her dragons South to warm them for a few days. Seems they don't care much for a Northern Winter. She'll be back any time."
"I see. I should like to meet her, I think."
"You'd like to meet her, or you'd like to meet her dragons?" Robb teased knowingly and she felt, just for a moment, as though no time had passed at all.
"Can I only have one or the other?" She returned playfully before sobering once more. "I am glad to see you both so well. Could you…"
"Could we what, little sister?"
"Could you not tell the others what I told you? I'm not ready for everyone to know where I've been just yet."
"Your secret's safe with us." Jon swore.
Eventually Sansa came and fetched her from Jon's tent, bringing her back into the keep and to her childhood room where a hot bath had been prepared for her. Her room was just the same as she had left it, and it made her feel like an intruder to the girl she'd once been. It seemed her sister had no plan of leaving immediately and so she began stripping her filthy clothes off despite her continued presence, having lost any shyness long ago.
She stepped into the steaming tub with a blissful sigh, feeling the lingering ache of cold leave her for the first time since somewhere midway across the Narrow Sea. She wasn't one to spend ages soaking in the tub and so she soon began to scrub her skin clean. The water was brown before she was done, but her skin felt fresher and her scalp no longer prickled, so she was grateful all the same.
Sansa handed her a drying cloth once she was done and she wrapped the bulk of it around her petite frame while using the end to wring out her lengthening hair. Her sister sat her down on a stood and began running her slender fingers through the wet and tangled locks. Arya allowed the motion reluctantly, if only because she wasn't sure how to put distance between them just then, not when her sister seemed so honestly happy to see her.
The taller brought a second cloth to her hair once the worst of the knots had been released and began toweling it free of moisture herself, less roughly than Arya had been doing. Once as dry as she could get it, she gathered the small vial of oil she used on her own hair and spread some between her palms to work into the thick dark locks. More manageable than it had been, Sansa grabbed the comb on the mostly empty vanity and began to work the smaller knots out, brushing it until it fell smoothly across her bare shoulders.
Sansa gathered up the tops of her hair, knowing her little sister didn't care for it falling into her eyes, and weaved it into a braid that wrapped around the back of her head in a half-crown pattern. The rest of her hair fell loose, and the hidden wave in it emerged as it dried. Arya watched her work silently, thinking on all the wasted time women spent pointlessly trying to make themselves look more beautiful. She held her tongue as her sister began to groom and sculpt her eyebrows into something sleeker with a touch more of the oil on a course brush.
She drew the line at powder being applied to her face and Sansa bowed her head in acceptance with more grace than Arya might have expected. A knock came on the door only moments later and her sister hurried across the room to allow their mother entrance, a dress clutched in her hands. "Talisa sent one of her gowns for you to wear for supper tonight. We'll have the seamstress here in the morning, of course, but this'll do for now.
Arya frowned immediately but forced her face to clear just after. She'd known this would be one of the things required of her and she had already decided she would choose her battles more carefully than over what she wore to supper. She was pleased to see it a slate grey, lines of lighter shades cutting through the fabric and lending it an almost sleek sheen despite its simple monochromatic design.
The neckline dipped into a slight point but was fairly modest all things considered and showed little beside her sharp collarbone and the barest hint of the swell of her breast once she pulled it on. It was still too long, but she was wasn't entirely displeased with the choice when it was all said and done.. Soft slippers were handed to her to cover her feet and made scarcely a noise when she walked. It seemed she'd only just finished dressing when her Mother and Sister were leading her to the door, insisting they would be late if they didn't leave immediately. She didn't even get the chance to arm herself and she hoped it didn't come back to haunt her.
They entered the dining hall a few minutes later and Arya was surprised at how many people were crammed at the tables- more than she'd ever seen in the room at one time before. She felt her spine stiffen as all eyes in the room seemed to turn towards them, several of the men breaking into applause at the sight of her returned. She was stopped every couple of steps and hadn't yet been able to make it to her seat when a hush fell over the room. She glanced across to see the Lannister party that had accompanied her earlier in the day enter the hall, faces as stoic and composed as they always were in the company of others.
She felt an almost desperate urge to join them, and why shouldn't she? It wasn't a secret that she arrived with them, why shouldn't she check how they were settling in? Not giving herself time to debate, she excused herself from the Lord offering her well wishes and then moved out of her Mother's reach before the woman could grasp her or pull her back.
It was technically Talisa's place to welcome their guests as the Lady of the Keep, but Arya hoped her good sister wouldn't mind her overstepping considering the uniqueness of the situation. "My Lords, Your Grace," She greeted formally. "Please, allow me to show you to your seats." She led them across the room from a position within their ranks, taking advantage on the knowledge that fewer present would dare call her into conversation whilst she stood beside the gruff old Lion himself.
She was able to make it to the head table with them as a buffer, and she gestured them to take their seats as the table of high honor sat just beside the Stark Family's own. She started to turn towards the open seat her family had clearly left for her, but she was called back before she could walk away. "If you're able, come visit our camp later. I have a gift for you." Tywin told her quietly.
She eyed him curiously but nodded without questioning him just then. "I'll make my way there." She promised. Her eyes darted quickly to Jaime, who winked at her once their eyes locked. She smiled slightly despite herself and then forced herself to turn away and take her place without further delay, knowing she was still being observed. She had the feeling it was going to be a long meal, indeed.
To be continued