Arya ignored the scuttling of the rats as she and Grey Worm made their way through the darkened tunnels that lead to her Aunt Lyanna's tomb within the Crypts of Winterfell.
Rats, cobwebs and stale air. The smells and images of happier times. Of her and Bran being chased by Robb and Jon through these very tunnels. Laughter renting the air around them as Robb would pounce on Bran and Jon on her and then their older brothers would tickle them until they screamed with laughter. These tunnels were only known by the four Starks kids. Sansa wouldn't have been caught dead in these tunnels and Rickon had been too young at the time.
But they had fun when they were younger. When life was much simpler. Easier. When her parents were still alive.
"We're here." She told Grey Worm quietly, as they came up to what looked like a dead end. Robb had discovered the fake wall when he was only 10 winters, sharing his secret with Jon. When Arya had turned seven winters both Robb and Jon had pulled her in on the secret along with Bran. "Come, help me." She told her silent companion.
Arya shifted low so that her fingers slipped into the tiny crack of the makeshift wall. Grey Worm obeyed without question, his longer arms above hers as together they moved the wall slowly but surely.
Dust hit her nostrils as she straightened slowly her gaze running slowly over the tomb that housed her aunt for the first time in years. The room was large, intricate carvings of four wolves, one for each wall, all staring down at the stone coffin protectively.
Her Aunt Lyanna.
Said to be beautiful and willful and with a touch of wolf's blood, people spoke of her in hushed awed whispers.
Her father, Ned Stark, barely spoke of her at all, but when he did there was always a wealth of emotion behind his words.
When Arya was a child she used to come here when things got too much for her. When Sansa and Jeyne's teasing got a little too cruel or when her mother's scolding got a little too much. It seemed as if this was the only place she could find her peace, where she wasn't judged on being different. Where it felt as if only her Aunt understood what she was going through.
Arya moved forward slowly running her hand over the coffin with reverent affection wishing she had time just to sit with her aunt again. Just to spend time with her.
"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her." She remembered her father telling her that when she was younger and there had been such resignation in his voice that Arya had almost apologised for it.
Pushing the memory from her mind, she patted her aunt's coffin before continuing on to the door that lead into the Winterfell crypts.
"Do you remember what we agreed?" she asked her companion in Low Valyrian.
He nodded stiffly his eyes shifting over her unfamiliar face. She was Beth this time. Rich brown hair, pale features, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes. Her disguise in getting into Winterfell and finding her sister.
Grey Worm himself was disguised. Another little gift from Kinvara. Grey Worm wore a ring that disguised his true appearance. The man in front of her looking nothing like the Grey Worm she knew. The man in front of her looking like a true northerner. Pale skin, black hair, dark eyes, stocky build.
"Good, we need to find out more about their forces. How many men they have, their horses and the weapons. While you do that, I find my sister. We meet back here when you hear Nymeria's howl."
"Yes, my lady." Even his voice had changed. No longer a heavily accented voice of a Unsullied slave but that of a northerner.
"And Grey Worm?" Arya said sweetly, glaring at him for the 'my lady' title. "Don't get yourself killed. That is a conversation I do not want to have with Missandei." She teased him lightly, a small smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.
Grey Worm glared at her, not wanting to comment on his relationship with the beautiful translator.
"And you, Lady Arya – "he emphasised the word lady again drawing at slight narrowing of her eyes. "– you be careful too. The Khalessi will be most upset with me should you die. Or get hurt. Or get caught. Do not lose your temper." He reprimanded, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "Remember what your brother told you. Do not kill anyone and leave bodies behind. Not unless you have to."
Arya made a face at him before as she peered out to the darkened halls of her family crypt, her gaze deliberately missing the tombs of her father, her mother and brother. No statue had been resurrected for her parents or her brother. But once they claimed back Winterfell she would make sure they received what they deserved.
Departing from her companion Arya headed towards Sansa's rooms where it was rumoured that Bolton held her sister prisoner.
Much like Varys had his little birds, Arya had her little whispers within Winterfell. And those whispers had told her that there was limited access to her sister. In fact, only three people were allowed in Sansa rooms. Bolton, a maid called Myranda and a man people called Reek but who she once knew as Theon Greyjoy.
The maid was rumoured to be Bolton's lover. A jealous and petty creature she was also said to be just as cruel and just as sadistic as her master.
Arya's little whispers told her that the maid stalked her sister, when Sansa was allowed to walk the grounds. Never straying too far from her, but always just out of Sansa's sight. Watching her sister like a beast would their prey. Waiting to devour her.
The whispers also told of the muffled cries and pained screams that came from Sansa's rooms at night and how that very same maid would hover just outside the door, that same creepy little smile never leaving her face.
Arya could only imagine what went on behind those closed doors and Bolton would pay for whatever pain he put her sister through. Tenfold.
"Oi you girl!" a gruff voice shouted causing Arya to stop immediately as she passed the kitchen doors. "Well don't just stand there, take this up to the great hall. The Lord and Lady would like their food while it's still hot!" the cook snapped to Arya causing her scramble to obey him. "They also have the Lord's father and mother up there as well, so make haste! Hurry, hurry!"
He was unfamiliar to Arya, probably the Bolton's cook, so Arya kept her head low as she gripped the pot of steaming stew.
"Now don't you be dawdling." The cook scolded. "You won't like what the Lord would do to you girl if his food gets to him cold."
Arya nodded, hurriedly making her way towards the great hall, forcing herself to calm the beating of her heart.
Calm as still water, she whispered to herself. Calm as still water…
Entering the main dining halls, Arya almost stumbled over her feet at the first sight of her sister in years.
If Sansa had been beautiful as a child, now as a woman grown, she was breath-taking. Literally breath-taking.
She looked so much like their mother that Arya's heart ached. Clear unblemished pale coloured skin, those Tully blue eyes filled at this very moment with a resigned sadness, her hair the colour of their mother's, a rich deep red that contrasted so beautifully with the paleness of her skin. Even seated, Arya could tell her sister had grown tall and she held herself with all the grace and poise of a lady worth her weight in gold.
This was her sister in the flesh. Proud, regal and so achingly beautiful.
But as Arya studied her closely she saw the strain in her sister's eyes, the tenseness of her jaw and the rigid way she held herself.
Arya also noticed the way Sansa would glare at the man seated next to her, fear and hatred fighting for dominance in her gaze.
Arya forced her feet to move and placed the pot of stew gently on the table. Another servant entered with the freshly baked bread and both Arya and the new servant went to bow and retreat.
"You stay." The other servant ordered roughly. "They will need someone to serve them."
Arya bowed, moving to fill the empty plates with food.
Sansa sat beside what only had to be Ramsay Bolton. He was a small man in stature, pale faced, dark haired with piercing light blue eyes and not entirely unattractive. But there was a petulant look stamped on his face as he glared at the older couple that sat across from him, before turning to her sister.
Arya's heightened senses detected an almost wildness about him. A violence that lingered just beneath the surface clawing to get out. It was there in those eyes of his. The perverse need to inflict pain and carnage on those around him as he scouted for his next victim.
"Well, my beautiful wife to be. Our wedding is soon and we have so much to plan!" he said with almost child-like glee, smiling with mocking tenderness at her sister. "Why we need someone to give the bride away! Reek!" he crowed banging his hand down on the table and just missing his plate that Arya was filling. "Reek here is the nearest thing to a living kin that you have left. Reek will give you away!"
Sansa shot him a look of distain as Ramsay turned to a man hovering in the shadows.
Arya tensed as the man turned towards them, faced scarred, hair dirty and unkempt a fearful look in his blue eyes, cowering slightly as he stared at Ramsay in shock before shooting Sansa a look of remorse.
"Well, someone has to!" Ramsay smiled, blue eyes gleaming with insanity. "What better person than Reek? The man you grew up with! Good?" he asked Sansa with a hint of steel behind his voice. She barely acknowledged him, instead she turned back to her plate, jaw clenched as she took deep, slow breaths. "Good?" he asked again, those eyes glaring at Theon – Reek – with malice.
Arya's fingers tightened around the jug of wine as she forced herself to pour her sister a glass, ignoring the need to smash it in the smug fool's face.
Calm as still water, she reiterated to herself. Calm as still water.
"Yes, yes, very good." the droll tones of Ramsay Bolton's father, Roose, washed aver her, almost making Arya forget about everything and everyone and killing both father and son right there. In her family's great hall. In front of her sister.
But no. There was a bigger plan that needed to be put in place. Jon needed to be seen leading the charge in claiming back Winterfell. He needed to rally the support of the other houses. They needed to see that Jon was a commander worth following.
Because if Arya was to give into her basic instincts now and kill both Roose AND his little mistake Ramsay, people would question Jon's leadership skills. They would question him. And they couldn't afford to not have the support of the other houses.
"Wonderful!" Ramsay mocked his father slightly, taking a drink from the cup Arya had just poured him.
"We need to talk, Ramsay." Roose told his son, pointedly, waving Arya away as she began filling his cup. "We need to discuss Jon Snow."
Arya placed the jug on the table quietly and stepped back into the shadows listening.
"The bastard." Ramsay dismissed. "What about him? He's dead!"
"Apparently not." Roose told him. "Word has it that he is very much alive and that he is gathering support to take back Winterfell."
Arya kept her eyes on her sister. Watched as Sansa froze, a hopeful look passing over her face before it went blank, shooting Ramsay a side look as if to gain his reaction to the news.
"Then let him come." Ramsay laughed dismissively. "He cannot hope to beat us. We have his sister, we have an army and we have the north."
"Do not under estimate Jon Snow, Ramsay. There is a reason why people fear him." Roose warned his son leaning forward and pointing at him. "He has a wildling army. He has Stark blood running through his veins and the north will more likely support a Stark – even if he is a bastard than they are you."
Ramsay sneered.
"I have his sister. I have my army. And I have my hounds." Ramsay snapped, slamming his fist on the table. "I will destroy the bastard and every wildling man, woman and child that align themselves with him. In fact I will just slaughter them all!" he told his father, madness gleaming from his eyes. "And I will capture that bastard and make him watch and every single one of my soldiers will rape his sister. I will make him watch as my dogs devour her and then I will spoon his eyes from his sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Let him come." He laughed manically, stopping to stare at the look of pure terror on Sansa's face and ignoring the outraged gasp of his father's wife. "Oh sweet wife-to-be." He crooned. "I won't let them kill you. I need you too much for you to be dead. They will just hurt you. A little." He told her reassuringly, patting her hand.
Sansa swallowed, fingers gripping her knife tightly as she glared at him, her hatred practically shooting fire at him.
"Now, now, we can't have that –"Ramsay leaned over and wrestled the knife out of Sansa's hand, before placing a loving kiss on that same hand. "– it looked like you were wanting to stab me with that dear wife-to-be."
Sansa glared refusing to say anything.
"Now you haven't been very nice or very pleasant this day. I'm going to have to send you to your rooms without anything to eat. Reek!" he called out, the mocking smile never leaving his lips as he continued to stare at her. "Take my lovely wife-to-be to her rooms. I will visit her later." He promised maliciously causing Sansa to blanch in fear.
Theon nodded obediently shuffling towards Sansa's chair and taking her arm.
Head held high, Sansa ripped her arm out of Theon's grasp, gathering her skirts and storming from the room, a lame and scarred Theon shuffling after her.
"You girl clean up my wife-to-be's plate and take it to the kitchen." He told her waving his hands at the plates beside him.
Arya forced herself to bow, quickly cleaning up the discarded plates and making her way towards the kitchen.
Lips curling she dumped the plates behind one of the statures just outside the great hall, making her way up to Sansa's rooms. She needed to get her sister out fast. Because the ominous warning in Bolton's voice did not fare well for Sansa.
Holding back Arya watched as Theon fumbled with the keys to Sansa's rooms, the man before her so different to the one she grew up with.
Theon of old was overbearing and cocky. Arrogant to the point of being extremely annoying. This man was afraid of his own shadow.
Arya watched as he opened the doors to Sansa's room and stepped back allowing her to go ahead of him, before shuffling after her.
Moving quickly – so quickly that she slipped into the room without him knowing – Arya disappeared into the shadows, melting into the darkness. He wouldn't be able to see her. No one would. Not unless she wanted them to.
She continued to watch as he shuffled around the room, ensuring the windows were securely shut and stoking the fires before moving slowly towards the door.
"Theon, wait." Sansa implored, staring at him beseechingly.
"I'm not Theon milady. I'm Reek." He mumbled, staring at the floor and creeping closer the doors. He looked like he wanted to escape. As if he wanted to be anywhere but here. Arya's lips twisted into a sneer.
"Help me." Sansa implored ignoring his shaky reprimand. "Please Theon."
"No." he shook his head vehemently, again refusing to look at Sansa. "You're to be his wife soon –"
"Theon –"Sansa pleaded, lifting a hand to reach out to him.
"Do what he says, do what he says or he'll hurt you!" Theon told her strongly, lifting his head to stare at her.
Sansa dropped her hand, her eyes still pleading with the man that they had grown up with. Pleading to find the man that had once been almost like their brother.
"He already hurts me every night." Sansa told him shakily. "Every night he comes and hurts me. It can't be any worse."
"It can milady. It can always be worse." Theon whispered almost to himself. He shook his head, avoiding her stare again.
Sansa sighed sinking on to the small bed behind her.
"Leave –"she ordered wearily, turning her face away from Theon.
"Milday –"Theon began.
"Leave!" Sansa screamed, causing Theon to jump. Cowering slightly before he moved as quickly as he could towards the door.
"Please milady. Just don't get him angry. You won't like him when he's angry." He said softly before closing and locking the door behind him.
Sansa watched him go, her body slumping in defeat.
"I remember coming to this room as a young girl." Arya said quietly after a few moments, watching as Sansa stiffened in alarm. "You use to pretend that you were the lady fair, waiting to be rescued by some handsome prince. I use to pretend that I could rescue myself and would plan elaborate escape routes that would involve me climbing out the window and you threatening to tell mother."
"Who's there?" Sansa asked suspiciously, getting to her feet. Arya watched as her sister grimaced touching her side slightly before pulling herself together. "I demand that you show yourself!" Sansa said icily, every bit Catelyn Stark's daughter.
Arya allowed a small smile to touch her face before took a slow step into the light. But it was not Beth's face she wore when she showed herself to her sister, it was her own.
Sansa blanched, eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at Arya, mouth dropping open. She dropped clumsily onto the bed, her fingers gripping the fur coverlet as she continued to stare at Arya as if she were a ghost.
"We use to argue, terribly, you and I, vexing our father and irritating our siblings. They couldn't understand why we could not just get along." Arya laughed softly. "We both were too stubborn for our own good. Neither wanting to back down. Neither wanting to give in."
"Arya?" Sansa begged softly, tears forming in those eyes, their mother's eyes as she continued to just stare at Arya, not moving. "Please don't let this be a dream." Sansa cried.
Arya moved swiftly, cupping her sister's face, her thumbs brushing the tears that ran down her cheeks. Sansa raised a trembling hand to cup hers, closing her eyes as she leaned into her touch.
"This is no dream, Sansa. I am here and I am real." Arya told her sister resting her forehead on Sansa's. She could feel Sansa trembling as she gripped the hands that clutched her face tightly.
Sansa threw herself at her sister almost toppling her over and wrapping her in a fierce hug.
Arya could honestly say that this is the first hug the sisters had shared, ever.
"Sansa." Arya said softly, trying to draw herself away. Sansa shook her head, eyes closed tightly, wrapping her arms around her again, refusing to let her go.
"No. No. No. If I don't hold on to you, you'll disappear and then I will find this all to be a dream and then I will wake in my constant nightmare. No. please, just a minute more." Sansa mumbled, arms tightening around Arya.
"Sansa!"
"No!"
Rolling her eyes Arya tugged hard on Sansa's braid, causing her older sister to yelp in pain.
"Does that prove to you that I'm not a dream?" Arya asked her sister, staring into her eyes.
Sansa blinked, staring into Arya's eyes.
"You really are here." She whispered.
"Aye sister I am. But we have to move. Now." Arya told her, pulling Sansa to her feet.
"How." Sansa asked, shaking her head. "We can't leave; we can't even get out of this room!"
Arya smiled at her sister as she draped a heavy cloak around her shoulders.
"Every room in our home has a secret, Sansa." Arya said quietly, moving quickly to the wall opposite the fire place where a Bolton tapestry hung. "Every room has an escape route." Never taking her eyes from her sister, Arya lifted the mantle and leaned all her weight on the wall causing it to shift ever so slightly.
Sansa's mouth dropped open as she watched the wall move slightly, making just enough room for the both of them to slip through.
"Hurry Sansa, we don't have much time." Arya told her.
"We – I can't."
"Sansa!"
"No you don't understand. " Sansa shook her head, glancing at the door. "Myranda will be soon. She always comes just after Theon leaves and right before Ramsay to gloat about what Ramsay will do to me. If she notices me gone too soon they may catch us."
Arya's eyes narrowed as she stared at her sister.
"This Myranda. How bad is she?" Arya asked her sister softly.
Sansa glanced away from her penetrating stare, refusing to meet her gaze.
"She can be as sadistic and as cruel as Ramsay." Sansa said with barely a tremble in her voice. Her face however said a whole lot else. "But at least she does not hurt me physically. That alone is Ramsay's privilege. He does not like other people playing with his toys."
Arya's jaw clenched as she stared at the pain on her sister's face. Yes, Ramsay Bolton would suffer for what he put her sister through.
There was a sound at the door that had both sisters' freezing. A shuffling of feet, a soft knock on the door and a jangle of keys.
"She's here!" Sansa whispered fearfully. "She's early! Theon must of let her know. She can't find you here. You must hide!" Sansa's whole body shook as her hands fluttered nervously around her, blue eyes panicked.
Muttering a particularly vile Valyrian curse that would cause for Dany to reprimand her – even though Arya learnt it from her - Arya dropped the tapestry and moved quickly towards her sister.
"Sansa, look at me." Arya commanded as Sansa continued to look around her in panic. "Sansa! I need you to act normal –"
"But –" her sister shook her head, eyes pleading with her.
"Sansa" Arya's voice was a soft bark causing Sansa to jump. "Trust me. Everything will be fine." Arya promised squeezing her sister's finger hard before moving backwards and melting back into the shadows of the room. Unseen. Invisible.
Arya watched as her sister took a deep breath to steady herself, pulling herself together like the fighter Arya knew she was before turning towards the door.
"Enter!" Sansa commanded, sounding so much like their mother that Arya grinned a little.
The woman that walked into the room almost seemed harmless. She was a short woman, just a little taller than Arya but definitely shorter than Sansa, skinny with pale features and mousy brown hair.
But Arya just knew that the demure look this woman was trying to give off was just a façade. But when she raised her head to look at Sansa, there was an unbalanced look in those ice green eyes hers as she studied Sansa like she were prey. Her prey.
"What do you want?" Sansa asked the other woman haughtily, watching Myranda with suspicious eyes.
"Now milady don't be like that." the shorter woman drawled. "Are we not friends now? After all I've come to help you get ready to receive Lord Ramsay tonight." She purred, her smile all teeth and pure hatred.
Sansa continued to stare at the servant girl like she were nothing but an annoyance to her.
"You want to be pretty and welcoming for your husband-to-be, don't you milady?" she asked Sansa softly, the smile on her face belying the tone of her voice.
Arya's lips tilted. If there was one thing Sansa always was, was pretty. Extraordinarily pretty. Which ate at the servant girl. Arya could see it as plain as day. She was jealous not only of Sansa's position in Ramsay's life but of her beauty as well.
"I would like to just brush your hair, milady and ready your clothes." Myranda gave a mocking bow, those crazy eyes never leaving Sansa's face.
Arya watched as Sansa glanced in Arya's direction before nodding slightly, moving towards the seat in front of the vanity.
The triumphant glee that exploded across Myranda's face had Arya clenching her fists. Wait, she whispered to herself. Wait.
Arya watched as the servant girl started undid Sansa's braid, running her fingers through italmost lovingly.
"You have such beautiful hair, milady. Like the colours of a burning flame. So vibrant. So rich." Myranda complimented before picking up the brush from the vanity and pulling it through Sansa's hair.
Sansa remained quiet, watching Myranda closely.
"In fact milady I have to say you are probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She sighed, tilting her head to one side and meeting Sansa's eyes in the mirror. "But you have to keep him happy." She told Sansa seriously. "Ramsay gets bored easily. You don't want him to get bored of you." She continued shaking her head. "Bad things happen when Ramsay gets bored." Myranda touched her lips in a fake gasp staring at Sansa. "Oh I'm sorry, milady. But you already know that don't you?" that slow cruel smile twisted the servant girls lips again as she stared at Sansa, sadistic glee filling her face.
Sansa stared back at her stonily, refusing to be cowered by the other woman's insanity.
"Poor, sweet little servant girl Myranda." Sansa drawled, returning Myranda's smile with a mocking one of her own. "Did you really imagine that he would be with you forever, Myranda? You a servant girl, the daughter of a kennel master and him the declared son of a Lord." Sansa's smile widened at the look of rage that crossed Myranda's face. "And then I came along and ruined it. Your dreams, your silly little girlish dreams." A cold look came over Sansa's face as she stood and turned to face the other woman, pulling herself up to her full impressive height. "I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home and you can't frighten me." she finished regally, a slight sneer crossing her sister lips.
Arya never felt more proud of her than at that moment.
"Bitch." Myranda snarled, seconds before she leapt at Sansa, causing Sansa's eyes to widen slightly.
But even before Myranda could touch her sister, Arya was there, grabbing the woman by the hair and jerking her back and away from Sansa and slamming her roughly into the floor.
Myranda screeched, eyes widening at the presence of someone else.
"I will have your head, girl." Myranda hissed, getting to her feet slowly and watching Arya from beneath her brows. "And then I will feed your body to my dogs." She laughed, moving from side to side with an easy grace of a hunter.
Arya smiled coldly, the look on her face causing the other woman to pause. She had seen that look many times before. With many other kills before. It was one of confused fear as if the hunter now knew that it was now the hunted.
"That's if you make it out of here alive." Arya said stoically, prowling towards the rapidly retreating servant girl.
"Who are you? How did you get here?!" she demanded forcing herself to stop and lift her head.
Arya continued to give her that cold assassin smile.
"A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell." She almost crooned to the other woman, giving her a malevolent smile. "And now a woman must die."
