Chapter X: The Lightning Strikes

The weather was biting her skin. Winterfell was colder than she remembered, and even the springs that warmed the walls of the castle gave her little respite from the harsh and unforgiving chill. Arya tucked her Needle carefully inside the furs, hiding the hilt. There were other daggers underneath as well, and she was sure she wouldn't need them, but being careful had never harmed her.

She received warm smiles from Jon and Sansa when she set foot in the room. Soon enough, however, Sansa's eyes roamed up and down her body, and her face lit up with mirth.

"Didn't I give you a dress?" She asked, as Arya took a seat beside her, directly in front of Jon. He shook his head at her, and continued drinking.

"Yes, dear Sansa, of course you did," Arya replied, amused.

"I don't think you're wearing a dress, though," she said, pointing at her attire.

Arya shrugged, and her eyes met Jon's.

"You know me. I will never do your dresses justice. I borrowed Jon's clothes instead."

Sansa sent a accusing glare his way, but Jon just raised his hands in defeat.

"I can't refuse her anything," he simply said.

Arya stifled a laugh. It felt good to be among family again. She had almost forgotten how it felt to share japes and laughs with her siblings. Once upon a time, another Arya Stark used to run around the same castle, fleeing from Septa Mordane and plotting pranks for Sansa and Theon.

She knew that even if she tried her best, she would never be able to find that girl inside her. The girl was dead, as were her parents, Robb and Rickon. She was a different person now, fleeing from different things.

Plotting different things.

Arya heard the footsteps of the person even before he entered, a man in his mid-forties with white, grey hair. She remembered seeing him near Jon the other night.

"Your Grace," he bowed. "My Ladies."

"Lady," Arya corrected. "Ser-"

"Davos," Sansa told her.

"Lady, Ser Davos," she repeated. "Lady Sansa and just Arya. I would appreciate if you don't use titles with me."

Sansa nudged her leg with hers. Arya turned to her sharply, and raised her brow.

"I am afraid she isn't fond of them," Jon defended her, and bid Davos to sit.

Davos threw a affectionate smile her way, much like the smiles her Father used to give her. She managed her own, one that lacked warmth, but she knew how to imitate a mummer's smile perfectly, without anyone realizing whether it held real sentiment or not.

"Your Grace," Davos began, asking Jon with a questioning tone if it was alright to speak what he wanted to in front of her and Sansa.

Arya mouth curved when Jon nodded. It wouldn't matter even if they talked inside a locked room, if she wanted to know what it was, she would.

Davos took a deep breath, and Arya noticed him placing his gloved hands on the table.

"After Walder Frey's demise, Cersei Lannister has bid her brother Jaime to take over Riverrun. I believe he is already there, and he holds power over the Twins as well."

Arya clenched her fists. Cersei Lannister and her lapdog Jaime.

"I saw the Kingslayer leave for King's Landing before Walder Frey died," she said out loud.

All heads turned towards her.

"What do you mean you saw?" Jon asked.

Arya shrugged.

"It doesn't matter." She turned to Davos. "Are you sure he has reached Riverrun?"

Davos looked nervous. When he opened his mouth to reply, Jon stopped him with his hand on his arm.

"What were you doing in the Twins, Arya?" He asked again, slowly pronouncing every word, like she hadn't heard his question in the first place.

She scowled.

"It doesn't matter, Jon," she said in the same tone, before turning back to Davos. But he kept silent.

Arya sighed loudly, unable to stop Jon from staring at her. She hadn't wanted to tell them about her viscous revenge, fearing what they would think of her. But they wouldn't let this go, and she couldn't say she just happened to be present at Walder Frey's dwelling.

A thousand lies formed inside her head, but only the truth came out of her lips, because she didn't want to start lying to them so soon after being back.

"I was the one who killed Walder Frey," she confessed. "I killed his sons, and then I killed him." Her voice was steady and calm and smooth, and it flowed out of her mouth with no emotion. Killing Walder Frey had only brought satisfaction to her, but she couldn't very well laugh while she told them. So it's better they think she felt nothing.

Jon found his voice ages later, while the other two only kept staring at her with shock.

"You slit his throat?" He asked. He didn't look like he was feeling disgusted, rather that he was curious to know. "And were you the one who... His sons-"

"I carved them in a pie and served it to him. Then yes, I slit his throat and watched as the life drained out of his eyes slowly and steadily." Without her realizing, a sly smile had etched itself on her face, and Arya didn't try to hide it.

She felt Sansa's hand on her shoulder and turned.

"He deserved it," Sansa said.

Arya was surprised, because she was Sansa. The Sansa who used to cry at the mere thought of men dying a bloody death.

It's not just me that has changed, she realized, watching her sister's eyes burn with flames of emotion. She was remembering what Walder Frey had done to their family, she had no doubt.

The silence that stretched was too much for her to bear.

"Riverrun is our Mother's home," she began. "No Lannister deserves it." She looked at Jon and Davos.

"I want to take Riverrun for the Starks, and throw the Kingslayer out of it, once and for all," she added.

Davos cleared his throat, and looked to his right at Jon, who was staring at her with a hundred questions floating in his eyes.

"We have just won a battle, Arya. The men are not ready," he said. "The Lannisters have more men than us, and they would overpower us."

"And I have an army of wolves impatient to taste our enemies' blood," Arya said.

"Most of the men are wounded," Sansa spoke. "They cannot fight. I've seen. It will take a couple of months, perhaps more, for everyone to heal and be ready for another battle, even the Wildlings."

"My wolves are enough for them," Arya insisted. "Jaime Lannister cannot be near the North. He needs to be imprisoned or else, killed."

She was being blunt, but she had no other choice. She had killed Walder Frey in the hopes of freeing Riverrun from his filthy hands, but it had led to a Lannister ruling it. She had avenged the death of Robb and her mother, but to bring peace to them, she had to drive their enemies away from the Tully's home. She wouldn't have believed herself to be capable of it before, but now she had a pack.

A pack who will devour lions with ease.

They are thirsty for blood as much as I am craving for vengeance.

"I cannot, Arya," Jon said, shaking his head. "We do not have enough men."

She stood up bracing her palms on the table.

"Then don't," she said, challenging him. "I can do it alone."

Jon's eyes hardened.

"You cannot, and will not. I will not let you run to battle."

"I will," she replied, defiantly. "If you won't give me men, I'll do it with my wolves. Nymeria wants to, even Ghost. You know it."

"The Knights of the Vale could help," Sansa interrupted. She ignored the look Jon sent her way. "They will fight."

"You will not trust Littlefinger again," Jon warned Sansa.

"Can you promise me they will?" Arya asked, ignoring Jon's comment.

Sansa nodded.

"I will never allow it," Jon said.

"I wasn't asking for your permission," Arya shot back instantly.

"I am your King," he said, his voice rough. He stood up as well, and gathered his cloak around himself. "You will ride to no battle. We will take Riverrun when it's time. Ser Davos, if you will follow me."

The two men left, as Arya was left behind with anger running through her veins. Sansa held her hand gently.

"Men know more about these things, Arya," she said. "Let Jon do as he wishes."

Arya said nothing.