The first week travelling had been full of joy. Remembering her time as a young girl in the capital to her escape from the capital. Having a permanent reminder with the man on the back of her horse with her. They'd made this exact journey before, heading upwards on the Kings Road with the intension of Hot Pit going all the way to Castle Black and her being dropped off either at Winterfell or close to Winterfell. Alas, that all changed when their band of people were attacked and they were taken to Harrenhal further south. That castle was cursed if the stories were true. Each remaining room or hallway being haunted by the ghosts of King Harren and his sons as they burned in dragon fire.

A part of Arya was giddy regarding it. As a young girl, she had idolised the conquerors. Knowing she was in a building that had been scorched by the first King of a mostly united Westeros was humbling. One dragon caused all that damage. The only creature known to still be alive who remembered Valyria as Balerion had hatched in the ruined city unlike Meraxes and Vhagar who both hatched on Dragonstone during the Century of Blood.

First, they had passed Lord Harroway's town but only remained to buy enough food for the journey. Already knowing she was going to have a hatred of salt beef by the time they reached their destination. A part of her wanted to just turn east to Maidenpool and board a ship to White Harbour, but she did not have enough coin for such a passage and from what she had heard, everyone thought she was dead as she had seemingly disappeared into thin air when her father had been beheaded. Something she desperately wanted to forget.

Whilst she'd been too far away to actually see it happen, she had heard it. Ice being removed from its sheath by a man who did not deserve to wield a blade as such, swinging it through the air and the motion creating a whistling sound almost. To the sickening thud that could only be her fathers head being removed from his shoulders. Remembering the panic of it and tucking her face into Yoren's vile smelling clothes as he pulled her into one of the many alleys to cut away at her hair to disguise her as one of the recruits. From then on, Arya Stark of Winterfell ceased to exist and was replaced by Arry of Flea Bottom.

From Arya Stark of Winterfell to Arry of Flea Bottom, to a girl who never confirmed her name who was a Cupbearer, to Arya Stark- hostage of Sandor Clegane, to No One, to Arya Stark, to all the faces she had.

Finally, she was going home. Something she had dreamed of for years but never thought would actually happen. At best, she'd hoped to wear a face in Winterfell. But no, she was heading there as herself again, and she was not going to deny she was incredibly excited over the prospect. They remained in Lord Harroway's Town for a couple hours after purchasing what was needed before heading back to her mare, having to help Hot Pie onto the horse as he'd never ridden one before. A fact which was glaringly obvious as his balance was all over the place and she'd needed to lecture him the correct way to grip his legs to secure himself. Alas, this proved futile, hence there now being a large saddle on the horse which accommodated both riders. Even then, it was a squeeze as her friend was rather large, but it was far from awful. Although she did need to trade her good saddle and many of the few coins she had to her person to get it.

It had rained often, not uncommon for the Riverland's. Slowly working their way up the Kingsroad towards the Twins. Whilst the road typically cut through the Neck, Arya knew taking said route was practically a death sentence. Even most Northerner's would not dare to travel through the famous swamps where if legend were true- were a thing from the Children of the Forest attempting to flood the area to separate the North from the southern Kingdom's much like when they'd successfully flooded the Arm of Dorne thousands of years before. Turning in towards the Trident and following this to where it split into the Red Fork, the Green Fork, and the Blue Fork. The Green Fork being the one they would follow as this cut through the Twins at the Crossing.

Not that it was difficult to see which one was correct, as the murky green colour from the swamps of the Neck made it obvious. Cutting through a handful of small towns but nothing more than this. On the tenth day of riding, the cold air from the North became obvious and the following morning she was awoken by a snowflake landing on the tip of her nose. Reaching her hand out and watching them fall into her palm and watching them melt into tiny little puddles. How long had it been since she'd seen snow? She'd never seen winter snows before as she had been born in the long summer and knew nothing else. Arya had heard the talk of people where they had ridden through. That Maester's had sent forth white ravens to confirm it was officially a winter. Remembering her fathers words from so long ago. A long summer meant an even longer winter. Something she wasn't sure how to feel about.

But she'd made her mind up. She wasn't Arry, she wasn't one of the faces, she wasn't a Cupbearer. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell, and she was going home. Hot Pit began shivering not long after the snow had started. With him having spent much of his life in the capital where even a cold day would be summer in the North and the remainder of his life in the southern Riverland's where it was always warm, it was a shock to him. Agreeing to stop for a day as they were running out of salt beef. Sending him to get some dry wood so they could get a fire going whilst she looked around for any game or a bird she could butcher for supper. Not that she'd needed to look for long. A pheasant clucking loudly which she crept up on as silent as a shadow. Before the bird could think, she'd grabbed it by the neck and snapped it to kill it instantly. It had been a long time since she'd last ate pheasant, it being a favourite of hers in Winterfell. Especially when Old Nan would make her loved pies that most people fought over. The meat was removed not long after as she dumped the carcass. Skewering it with a stick and slowly roasting it over the small fire which Hot Pie was rubbing his hands beside to get some warmth back into the skin.

"It's only going to get colder; you know?"

He reached over to grab a handful of snow and threw it her way, Arya dodging it with ease before grabbing some herself with her free hand and whacking him straight in the face. Laughing all the while. By now, the meat was sizzling as she bit down into it, juices running down her chin and almost moaning at the delicious flavour. As it got later in the day though, the colder it got. Even she had to resort to cupping her hands in front of her mouth and breathing hot air to warm them up. The horse whinnying which caught her attention as she snapped her head around to see her padding her hooves nervously. Ignoring it as horses were skittish creatures, it was probably a spider or a mouse.

"We should head soon, the longer we remain in the cold the worse it'll get."

Hot Pie agreed with her as both stood up to head to the mare which was now snorting on top of padding nervously. Eyeing her friend and despite no words being spoken, it was obvious what she was saying. Be quiet. Taking a long breath before holding it until there was no sound other than the horses nervous sounds. And then there was a crack, a twig or something. Sounding like it had come from behind her as she slowly turned around and eyed the woods they were currently situated in, slowly removing Needle from its sheath just in case. Then she caught sight of something moving. So swift if she had blinked at that exact moment she would've missed it. Hearing a nervous swallow from behind her.

"Arya- "

"Quiet- "

She cut off at this as she saw what Hot Pie was looking at. A wolf as black as the night sky on a rock directly in front of him. Fangs bared and saliva dripping onto the snow. He was as white as the snow himself now and then there were more snapping twigs and rustling leaves. White, grey, brown, speckled. In the span of about a minute, there was an entire pack of wolves surrounding them. If the way they were looking at them was not enough proof of what they wanted, the growls certainly were. Of all the ways to die, a Stark being eaten by a wolf was just ironic. Searching for an opening or maybe a branch she could heave herself onto and jump from tree to tree like she'd done with Bran when they were children. The mare letting out a distressed sound as clearly it knew what was about to happen too. Wolves closing in further until her back was pressed against a large rock, eyeing Hot Pie with fear. Guilt swimming deep within because he would not be in this situation if it weren't for her.

A low growl emanated from behind her. Closing her eyes as she knew she was trapped. The only thing left to do was to accept and face her fate. Letting out a long breath she only realised now she'd still been holding before slowly turning around to face the one on the rock. It was large, much larger than the others. Mostly grey with white patches and eyes a deep amber in colour. It towered over her, at best reaching the shoulders and fangs directly in line with her face. But there was something there, in those amber eyes. A fleck of green and gold, memories swirling in her mind as she recognised those eyes. It couldn't be, could it? There was only one way to find out.

"Nymeria?"

The name sounded foreign to her, one she had not spoken for years and remembering the yelp of hurt as she threw rocks at her to get her to leave so she would not be executed for biting Joffrey. Wolf snarling more but not making a further move towards her. Taking a step forward before even realising what she was doing. Leaning down and placing Needle on the snow to show she posed no threat. She knew now this was not a wolf, it had to be a direwolf. Even if it wasn't Nymeria despite deep down knowing it was her wolf.

"Nymeria, it's me. Arya."

Just like this, the snarling stopped. The wolf pulling its head back and eyes opening wide seemingly in recognition to either her voice or her name. Timidly reaching her hand out and feeling her sniff to show she meant no harm. A high pitched whine coming from the animal.

"I'm heading north, girl. Back to Winterfell, I'm finally going home. Come with me, Ghost is there too. Remember your brother? All white with red eyes like a Heart Tree?"

By now, her hand was touching Nymeria's cheek, feeling the soft fur in her fingertips as joy flooded through her. This was something Arya would never have considered possible. She'd thought she would never see her again, but here she was. Head tilting to lick at her palm gently which was ticklish. Yet she didn't move down, instead tilting her head into her palm before turning around and walking back into the woods. The other wolves obeying their leader and turning to see Hot Pie looked like death warmed over. Judging by the stain on his trousers, it was obvious he had pissed himself. Not that Arya blamed him for such a thing, because she'd been close to doing so before she recognised her eyes. Turning to where she'd gone and seeing deep amber flecked with gold and green for one last time.

"That's not you though, is it? You're free."

Where the words came from, she knew nought. But it rang a bell in her memories somewhere. One she was sure she'd remember soon as she walked back over to Hot Pie, picking up Needle and putting it in the sheath again.

"What was that?"

Only then did Arya remember she'd never spoken about the direwolves to him. Quickly filling him in as she made her way back to the horse to begin calming her down. It didn't take too long to do so, running her hand over her face for a few seconds doing the trick.

"We should get going."

So they left. Making their way further up the Kingsroad. Three days later they finally reached the Twins. Remembering the last time she had been here. Wearing a face that was in her satchel right now and disguising herself as a servant. Faces such as Walder Frey, Lothar Frey, Jaime Lannister, and others she recognised but did not know the names of flashing in her mind. Wondering what people thought of what she had done. At least the weasels young wife would not speak, of that she'd made certain. Younger than she was and despite knowing she had no say in who she was wed to- she was a Frey through marriage and Frey's were nothing but leeches. There were lots of people surrounding the castles but not more than usual. Heading towards the bridge as a man asked where she was going.

"We would like to cross."

"Five dragons that'll be."

Five?! She had nine on her. Cursing silently under her breath but throwing the man the required coins before passing through into the Neck. This area not being anywhere near as swampish and using the moss growing on the trees to ensure she was still going the correct way. Four days it took before they were out of the marshes. The massive hill where the ruins of Moat Cailin being visible and seeing many men patrolling the walls just in case. No one had ever taken the North from the south before, but she also noticed there seemed to be builders too. Lugging rocks tied to ropes in groups of four or six up the hill. Were they repairing the ruins? Where did Jon get the money to do so?

Jon. She hadn't thought about him much, nor had she thought about Sansa much either. So much had changed now and she wasn't going to deny it had her on edge. Would they take her in with open arms? Would they call her fake? Would they even be in Winterfell when she arrived? They weren't stopped once, not being seen as a threat in any way. The thought almost made her laugh, because if they knew who she was it would be a whole other story. The snow got heavier the further north they travelled and the more Hot Pie was shivering and muttering curses under his breath. Something which was silence when she stated it would be much worse at the Wall where he had initially intended to go before being offered a job in that inn.

They passed through a few villages and hamlets before reaching Castle Cerwyn. Remembering from words spoken they had stood with the Bolton's. Hopefully, her brother brought his wrath down on them for doing so. From there it was to the Barrowland's they travelled, Barrowton looking like a forest itself as almost everything was built out of wood. Even the castle was other than a few stones. She'd visited before when she was younger, the sour look of Lady Barbrey as familiar to her as snow was. Then it was to Wintertown. Hot Pie begged at this point to go to an inn but Arya knew they were extremely close to Winterfell now, they may as well make the remainder of the journey. It took just shy of an hour to weave through the tight streets of the small town before seeing the hill drop down. White covering everything other than the massive castle up ahead.

"Is that Winterfell?"

Arya smiled before nodding in confirmation, not trusting her voice to come out normally as emotions overcame her she'd not experienced in years. For so long she'd been suppressing all feeling as she was training to become No One that now she wasn't wholly sure who she was. One thing was for certain though, she was home. For the first time since she was eleven, she was finally home. How long had it been? Three years? Five years? Ten years? So much had happened that keeping track of time was one of the last things on her mind. Riding down towards the castle and entering the first gates. A stableboy running over to take the reins for her horse as she was guided away. Hot Pie shuffling awkwardly as he didn't know what to say or think currently. Two guards were up ahead, turning to face her and blocking the entryway. A part of her mind screaming she had to be formal but deciding last minute to have some fun. So, when they asked where they were going, she replied with her voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Inside, I live here. This is my friend; he is not to be harmed."

"Oh fuck off, I ain't ever seen you here- "

"I'm Arya Stark. Second daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully. Sister to the King and Lady."

The fatter one snorted aloud at this, not hiding his amusement as clearly he did not believe she was who she said she was.

"Arya Stark is dead- "

"Clearly not as I'm standing right here. If you don't believe me send for Maester Luwin or Ser Rodrik, they'll confirm."

"No one of those names here, only Maester here is Aemon."

Dammit, clearly they were dead. Eyes creasing a little at the Valyrian name. Just how many other people did she knew were dead now? Old Nan? Hodor? Beth? Only remembering now that the stableboy who tool the reins of her horse was not the simpleton she'd grown up around who could only speak one word.

"Then ask the King or the Lady then. Or you can deny me entry and when they find out you turned me away you will face the consequences?"

Hot Pie sucked in a breath at her retort, thinking she had crossed one too many boundaries with that remark. But it done the trick. Both tightening their lips as they allowed them into the courtyard and ordering them to sit on a rock as they went in search of her brother and sister. Looking around at the faces there were and frowning at seeing Dornishmen. Why were there Dornish in Winterfell? That was a question that would be answered soon enough. Nerves beginning to eat at her before her eyes darted to the entrance of the crypts. A part of her wanting to go down but she didn't want to leave Hot Pie. Only someone of Stark blood could enter the crypts- or so the tales spoke. Arya had seen more than enough magic over the last few years to not want to tempt fate. They weren't waiting for long, a woman walking out with a face so familiar it almost made her heart burst immediately. Sansa had always looked the most like their mother, but now that she was older she could see she had some stark features. Primarily the shape of her face. Whilst not long like many Stark's, it was wide and defined well. Skin as pale as the snow and hair as red as the sap that dripped from the carved faces in Heart Trees. Stopping right in front of her yet not saying anything.

"Do I have to call you my Lady now?"

A tiny smile formed, clearly trying to bite back a laugh and noticing her eyes were welling up.

"Yes."

A few seconds of silence followed at this before her sister cracked and launched down to hug her so tightly her feet were barely on the ground. Gods, she had grown even taller. Probably as tall as their father had been. Arya's head didn't even reach her shoulders anymore.

"It suits you, Lady Stark."

And it did, there was no denying it. Even when they were children Sansa had been the embodiment of a typical Lady.

"Where's Jon?"

"Holding a meeting, being King is rather tiresome work. He takes walks through the Godswood when he finishes though."

She knew what she was on about, telling her where to find him.

"I remember how happy he was to see me, when he sees you, it would surprise me if he didn't fall to the ground in shock. We're not alone either, Bran's home too."

What? Her eyes widened in shock at this, looking to her in surprise and asking where he was.

"In the meeting with Jon, they should be out soon."

"Oh where are my manners. Sansa, this is Hot Pie. He escaped Kings Landing with me all those years ago."

He waved a little awkwardly which in most cases would've been funny but right now it wasn't. Sansa asking a servant to have a room readied for him alongside alerting the cooks to prepare an extra meal for another guest. This shocked her a little because it wasn't like her sister to be so open to Smallfolk. Just how much had changed? The pack was back together, or almost all of it. No Robb, no Rickon, no father, no mother.

"They say you killed Joffrey, did you?"

"No, but I wish I had. I came close to doing so once, Sandor Clegane stopped me- "

"The Hound stopped you from killing Joffrey?"

That was a sentence she never would've thought would be spoken. Feeling guilt over how she had left Sandor. As much as Arya hated him, she did come to care for and respect him. He took care of her. Granted, it was for his own gain, but he took care of her nonetheless.

"It wasn't long after father- well. He took me outside, made me look at his head on a spike. He was on one of the planks between Maegor's Holdfast and Traitor's Walk. I walked forward about to push him off when he stepped between."

Respect she'd never felt before for her sister came out at this. She never thought she would have it in her to kill someone. But Arya could see the truth on her face. She had killed. Mayhaps it was accidental, mayhaps it was purposeful, mayhaps it was once or twice or a dozen times. That was something that could be answered at a later date. She only realised then that Hot Pie had left, likely being led away by a servant. Walking with her sister into the Godswood towards the Heart Tree. The face leaking bright red sap and reaching over to touch it. The pool of water at the base being as black as the night sky from the jet black rocks that covered the bottom to give it the appearance it had.

"You missed a rather exciting visitor by a few days."

"Who?"

"Daenerys Targaryen."

Her eyes widened at this, wanting to call falsehood to that but there was nothing but truth on Sansa's face.

"Why was she in Winterfell?"

"To meet Maester Aemon. They're kin. Uncle, granduncle, great-granduncle. I've no idea. Jon released him from his vows to the Night's Watch and asked him to come here so the current Maester could go back to the Dreadfort where he was initially assigned. Although she wasn't subtle on trying to convince Jon to bend the knee."

"Did he?"

"Do you remember how stubborn Jon is, Arya? I think out all of us you would know."

At least that thing hadn't changed, laughing along with her sister and that answered her earlier question with the Valyrian name.

"Great granduncle, Maester Aemon refused the crown in a grand council in favour of his brother Aegon. Who was father to King Jaehaerys and Queen Shaera, who were parents to King Aerys and Queen Rhaella."

Sansa snorted a little and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'of course you would know that.' Only hitting her then they were getting along. Not trying to get along like when they were children, just getting along.

"How did you get out of Kings Landing?"

"Long story, I'd imagine yours is too."

A smile formed on her face at this, knowing they would be sharing stories as they ate. Neither spoke for a while after this, Arya picking up on footsteps and Sansa seemed to catch on. Both sharing a mischievous look. Arya climbing high into the branches as she looked around but it was difficult to see through all the branches and red leaves. A man walking in that looked both familiar and unfamiliar to her. Wearing a crown atop his head and a long billowing cloak with a fur underlining. Stopping in front of Sansa and talking to her, removing the crown from his head and muttering angrily under his breath. Blue eyes catching her attention as she climbed down behind him once again as silent as a shadow. He was taller too, either the same height as Sansa or very close to it. A sword of Valyrian steel at his hip that wasn't Ice- wondering to herself what had happened to their ancestral sword. Reaching to crack her knuckles before realising that would echo loudly and would ruin the fun. Positioning herself to leap and a second later she was on his back, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he spun around in circles in surprise, Sansa laughing merrily at the encounter. She finally let go and he turned to her, recognition coating his face immediately before scooping her into his arms but he did lift her completely from the ground confirming he was slightly taller than Sansa. His scent was familiar, his face was, his mess of curly and wavy hair was familiar as it was much alike her own. They always looked the most alike out of them all.

"How?"

"A few hours ago."

He placed her down at this but still didn't let go of her. Their sister squeezing in on the embrace too which was not like her at all. Once again understanding so much had changed. Despite so much changing though, so much had remained the same though. Jon looked the same as he had before although he wore his hair tied back now and he had scars covering his face. She'd heard the talk, of how he had been released from his vows after taking a knife in the heart.

"You still have it?"

He was looking at Needle, unsheathing it and showing it to him. Recalling when he had gifted it to her so long ago despite it feeling like it had only been days before it was so vivid in her memory.

"Have you ever used it?"

"Once or twice."

Or a few dozen times, but he didn't need to know that. At least, not right now.

"Am I missing something here?"

Arya turned to Sansa now and showed her the sword too.

"I got it as a gift when we all left."

"How did you get father and mother to agree- "

"They don't need to agree if neither know."

All snorted aloud at that quip.

"Father knew, he found me practising in the Red Keep. Got a contract with the First Sword of Braavos to teach me."

"So that's why you were always covered in bruises, I'm assuming that's what your 'dancing' lessons were?"

No words needed to confirm this. Jon unsheathing his own sword and her staring in awe at the dark blue ripples on the smoky blade which confirmed the material. The pommel being a wolf head seemingly carved out of ivory or at the very least coated in ivory with little rubies for the eyes to resemble Ghost.

"It's called Longclaw. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont gave it to me after I saved his life."

"And now you're King in the North."

"No, not to you. To you, I'm Jon Snow. Your annoying and protective older brother. Come, sup will be served soon, and we have a lot to discuss."

Arya felt a little more mischievous at this. Curtseying awkwardly and speaking.

"Yes, your Grace."

Sansa let out a bark of laughter which again was so unlike her but Jon instead gripped her to bend her over and tussle her hair like he'd done when they were children. She was finally home.