"Where is Missandei?" Arya questioned as she and Daenerys walked past the smith. She slowed, enjoying the familiar sounds of the steel being hammered and the smell of the sizzling fire.

"Likely inside," Daenerys guessed, "trying to get her body to thaw. She doesn't care for the cold."

Arya snickered. "I thought we were going to need to make room for her in our bed. I didn't think she was going to stray from your Dragon blood before sunrise."

Melting into Arya's arms, the two women held each other. "Tired of me already?" Daenerys challenged, just before Arya claimed her lips.

The sound of footsteps made it obvious they'd been caught. Unapologetic as she was, her face still heated as she looked down and saw Rickon watching them. "Hi," he said cheerfully.

"Hi," Daenerys said as she squatted to match his height.

"Can I see your curved sword?" he asked, holding out his small hand.

"Sorry Rickon, it's not a toy," Arya rebuffed gently, aware she would be disappointing him.

"I know that. I have a sword!"

"Really?" Arya verified. She couldn't imagine her father or even Robb allowing Rickon to use a real blade. "Father gave you your own sword?" Even as she said the words Arya was struck by a wave of jealousy. She'd always wanted a sword, but Ned wouldn't permit it. It was Jon who gifted her with Needle before he left for the Wall. If she had to wait for Lord Stark, she likely still wouldn't have a weapon of her own.

Robb, who was walking with Ser Rodrick, corrected the misconception as he went by. "Father gave you a wooden sword to train with."

"It's still a sword," Rickon protested. "Can I see it please?"

She shook her head to answer him. "Tell you what, why don't you go get your sword, and I'll train with you a little bit."

His eyes lit up at the potential. "Really? Like you do with the Dothraki?"

"Exactly like that."

Rickon didn't need to be told twice and took off running for the door. When they were once again strolling around the grounds Daenerys made her opinion known. "That was very sweet of you. He adores you."

"I wasn't the only one who grew up while I was in exile. He was just a babe when I left for King's Landing. He wasn't there when I got on the boat and now to see him again and have him be nearly ten. It makes me realize just how much of his life I missed."

The talking ended when Rickon came back out with three wooden swords. While keeping one he passed the others to Arya and Daenerys. "Alright," Arya started as she twirled the sword on her open palm, "ready for your first lesson?"

R-C

Arya and her warriors training was the talk of Winterfell. So much so that eventually Ned himself made the trip to witness it first hand. Her focus was so singular that she didn't notice him at first.

Kovarro sent the whip cracking through the air, aimed directly at her throat. Arya arched backward, her long hair grazing the snow as she avoided what would've certainly ended the battle. Before she could right herself Kelo slashed at one arm, while Harvin lunged for her legs. She tried to avoid them all, but they were too coordinated, just as she'd taught them to be. She launched herself into the air, over Harvin's blade. Rather than swinging her own weapon she chose to use her knee, slamming it forcefully under his chin and sending him toppling onto his back unconscious. Kelo had the most success. She tried to block him with her arakh but only managed a slight deflection. As the steel bit into her bicep she took a page from Ryn's book. She gripped his weapon like Ryn had once done to her, ripping it from his hands and throwing it aside. Undeterred Kelo pounced and tackled her to the ground. As they rolled around, struggling for dominance Arya became aware of Kovarro stalking closer.

Gripping the front of his jacket she rolled Kelo over and climbed on top. Punches were thrown in both directions as Kovarro got involved. She felt the warmth of blood on her back as he tried to urge her to submit with the whip. Pushing past the pain she slammed an elbow into Kelo's temple, and then rolled away before Kovarro could lash her again.

Unarmed and injured she was at a distinct disadvantage as Kovarro circled her. With a wicked smile he dropped the whip tainted with her blood and drew a dagger. Arya smiled too. The dagger was his favorite weapon and with good reason. He was deadlier than anyone she'd ever seen with the small blade. Lowering herself she pretended to be searching for a weapon, while what she was really doing was picking up a handful of tightly packed snow. Kovarro continued to wait for an opening Arya found hers first. She threw the snow and he acted on reflex, reaching up to block it. In a rush, she threw herself into him, hitting him in the ribs with an unforgiving shoulder. Her own pain not withstanding, she allowed Kovarro to punch her several times, while she focused entirely on prying the dagger from his hand. Once she had it, she was quick to press it into the side of her Blood Rider's throat, even as he sat overtop of her, raining down blows.

With the battle over, Kovarro stood and offered her an extended hand. She took it and spoke in Dothraki as she praised his skill and technique. When the Blood Rider went to do her bidding, Ned stepped forward. "That was pretty intense for training."

She was surprised to see him there as she worked to catch her breath. "Easy training doesn't prepare anyone for anything," Arya commented casually as she looked first at her arm and then over her shoulder to assess her wounds. "If I'm not preparing my people for what combat is really like, I'm not doing them any favors." Last, she opened her gloved hand and checked the depth of the gash she received grabbing Kelo's arakh.

"We agree on that. What did you say to your friend, just now?"

"I told him to get some water and bring the other two around. I hit them pretty hard."

With a thick finger, he pointed to the long opening across her back. "They returned the favor. You need to get those looked at."

"I've had worse. I'll be fine."

"Arya," he reprimanded.

"I'll be fine," she repeated. "I'll clean it in a little while."

"Arya Stark," Daenerys yelled as she marched over. "You're not fine, you're bleeding and you won't clean it in a little while, you'll sit down and let me do it now."

"Check on Harvin and Kelo," Arya instructed. "They got it worse than me."

"Missandei and Jorah will tend to them," Daenerys answered dismissively. "Now take off your jacket so I can see the damage."

She gritted her teeth, peeling the bloody fabric and fur away from her body. She was aware of not only Daenerys's judgemental glare, but her father's as well. It seemed they finally agreed on something. "We have a Maester in Winterfell who could sew the wounds," he announced.

Arya looked to Daenerys, who gave the older man a friendly smile. "That's quite alright Lord Stark, after Drogo and now Arya I've gotten quite good at this."

"Have you heard from Jon?" Arya asked before she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.

"We send letters," Ned explained. "I haven't received any recently, but last I heard he was doing well."

She smiled against the pain. "That's good." She let quiet settle around her before she finished. "I think I may ride to the Wall to see him."

Arya did what she could to memorize her father's smile as he heard this. She was glad they were alone. If her mother had been there, the tension and awkwardness would have been thick enough to cut. The situation of his own making always left Ned forced to balance on a razor's edge, between loving and protecting his son and honoring his wife who had no shortage of opinions on the subject. She didn't agree with the way her mother treated Jon and she was pleased that he'd found a place to be happy. Since this would likely be her last time in Westeros, she didn't want to let it pass without seeing him, even if he was a bastard.

R-C

She sat in what had once been her childhood bedroom with a misshaped piece of wood between her knees. Using Missandei's dagger, she methodically changed the shape until it was a replica of her arakh.

Arya had gotten used to Rickon's daily requests to see her weapon, but that didn't mean it wasn't difficult to refuse him. She had once been him, yearning for a sword, any sword to hold, sharpen, polish and swing. She could relate all too well. Outside the walls, in the Dothraki camp, Kelo was putting the finishing touches on Bran's improved saddle. She hoped both gifts would be ready to be presented the following day.

"Have you made up your mind?" Daenerys asked, her nose buried in a book.

She answered without ever lifting her eyes from the wood. "I need to go," she decided. "I will never forgive myself if I don't."

"Tell me about Jon. What kind of man is he?"

Her hands stopped their task. "Honorable," she began, "to a fault. No matter how horrible he was treated here, by my mother, by Sansa, you never heard him complain." She slowly got back to work. "Of all my siblings, I was always the closest to Jon."

"Why him?"

Arya shrugged. "We could relate to one another. Neither of us belonged, neither fit in where we were put. On one hand he was father's son, like Robb, Bran or Rickon but my mother ignored him when she wasn't bathing him in her contempt and jealousy. He was never happy here, always anxious for the day father would allow him to go to the Wall and Take the Black."

She leaned forward so she might hear the whispered words sooner. "And what about you? You weren't a bastard. How could you relate to him?"

Arya knew the words weren't said with malice, but genuine curiosity. Maybe that was why she didn't mind answering or perhaps it was just because Daenerys was the one doing the asking. "I didn't fit in either. My mother already had one perfect daughter. Sansa loved all the right things, pretty dresses, sewing, even politics. She took to it like a duck to water, always assuming she'd marry a Prince or King one day. When I came of age my mother tried to mould me in Sansa's image. She forced me to spend hours learning with the Septa, perfecting my handwriting, knitting and all other manner of foolishness."

"What did you want?"

"I wanted to be on a horse, riding at my father's side, defending the Realm. How could the gossips at court compete with that?" she wondered rhetorically.

Daenerys surprised her with a kiss on the lips. Forgetting Rickon's toy she coiled her arms around Daenerys's neck and pulled her closer, for a longer, more serious try. "I'd say you got your wish."

She didn't need a mirror to know her face wore a cocky smirk. "I always get what I want."

With her warm, wet mouth teasing around Arya's ear, Daenerys poked her a little. "Is that so? Always?"

With an abundance of charm, she tilted her head back and looked into Daenerys's eyes for several seconds. "Always," Arya confirmed. "I got you, didn't I?"

After a lustful growl, Daenerys tackled her until she was flat and then quickly climbed on top. "You don't get to take credit for that," Daenerys said as she began kissing Arya's neck, while nimble hands were unlacing her top. "If it were up to you, I'd still be waiting."

R-C

Breakfast was an interesting affair. After only two bites, Rickon had been presented with the gift Arya made for him. His own wooden arakh, to go with the wooden training sword his father had given him. He was thrilled, and immediately went to work, fighting all sorts of invisible enemies from all around the room. Arya watched him for a few seconds, privately enjoying that her gift was so well received and then she moved on to Bran.

"After we eat, I'll take you to the camp. Kelo is waiting there and your saddle is ready. It should make aiming much easier, especially on the move."

Bran set down his fork and smiled widely at the exiles. "Thank you so much, both of you. I can't wait to try it out."

"If you listen to Kelo, you'll be hitting every target you can see and likely some you can't," Daenerys added. "He's even tried to teach me, although I think I'm a lost cause."

Further down the table, Missandei, Talisa, and Robb were all engaged in a conversation about Talisa's homeland. The baby was still sleeping, a rare occurrence his parents seemed willing to make the most of.

When Ned and Cat came down the staircase they gravitated toward Bran and Arya's conversation first. Catelyn tried to coax her youngest boy into his seat while she prepared a plate for both Ned and herself. "What are you all talking about?" her father asked on his way to the head of the table.

"Arya's friend is finished with the saddle for me. She's going to take me to try it out." Bran told him happily.

He smiled at his son and then looked to his daughter. "You can do your practicing inside the walls today."

The fork that was less than an inch from her lips froze and she glanced at Daenerys who was no more prepared for Ned's change of heart. "I wanted the Dothraki to give Bran some tips."

Ned nodded. "One of those Blood Riders you trained with the other day?"

"That's right," she confirmed.

"You can bring those three with you. I think my men would benefit from seeing how seriously the Dothraki take their training," Ned said before he took a massive bite from the plate Cat set in front of him.

Arya knew better than to push for more. Concessions by her father were rare, but not nearly as rare as him changing his opinion once it was made. If he was willing to allow any Dothraki inside the gates of Winterfell, Arya was going to take that as a sign of real progress. She tried to infuse her words with as much sincerity as she could. "Thank you," she said, finding and holding his eye from several seats away.

Under the table, Daenerys reached for and took her hand, pulling it into her lap. They didn't need words, she knew that Daenerys was just as surprised by the allowance her father had made as Arya was. It also didn't escape her notice that her mother was smiling wide, shooting approving looks at her husband every few seconds.

R-C

"You don't need to go," Arya said gently as they cuddled together, "certainly not tonight."

"I do," Daenerys objected, her tone leaving little room for debate. "I may be too much of a coward to apologize to your father directly, but I can apologize to your ancestors."

Arya rolled so she could prop herself up on an elbow. "You aren't responsible for what others did."

"How can you say that, after everything my family did to yours?"

"It was before either of us were born," Arya reminded her.

"That fixes things? Your father has every right to hate me. Your whole family does."

"If that's true," Arya said, leaving the bed and falling to her knees on the floor, "then I owe you multiple apologies."

Daenerys was not amused. She held out a hand in invitation but Arya wouldn't budge. "For what?" she was finally forced to ask. "You've done nothing but risk your life for me day and night. There is nothing to forgive."

"That's not true. By your logic, I am to blame for all my father's actions. He knew Robert sent assassins, but did nothing. Because of Robert and my father, Drogo and Rhaego are dead. You have reason to hate me too."

"That's hardly the same thing," Daenerys contested. "I believe your father when he says there was nothing he could've done to change Robert's mind."

"He still should have tried."

This time when Daenerys held out a hand, Arya took it and allowed herself to be brought back to bed and into Daenerys's waiting arms. As soon as she was in reach, Daenerys took advantage and kissed the other woman. After their tongues had dueled for as long as the limited air supply would allow, they separated reluctantly. "I could never hate you."

"And I could never hate you, not even if all of my family did." She paused to try and gather her thoughts. "I couldn't hate you because I love you Daenerys."

Daenerys Targaryen had known for a long time that she was in love with Arya Stark. She'd known it the first time they shared a bed, the first time they shared a kiss and with increasing frequency every day since. Still she always thought she'd be the one to say it first, guessing incorrectly that Arya would put little stock in the label. Up to that point she hadn't said it, because it didn't seem important. She knew how she felt and she knew how Arya felt. Even without those three little words, the evidence was overwhelming. It was obvious each time Arya defended her to her family, first with Robb and his men and then with Ned. When she drew blood to protect Daenerys and the khalasar it was perfectly clear. If others couldn't see it, it was only because they weren't looking in the right places. Daenerys was. Hearing the words whispered with such conviction they were more meaningful than all the other times in her life she'd been on the receiving end of such affections.

Chuckling in disbelief Daenerys pushed a hand through Arya's long hair. "Well aren't you full of surprises. Just when I think I know what to expect…"

"I'm sorry," Arya rushed to say. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I know it hasn't been that long since Drogo."

She pressed a finger to Arya's lips. "Stop." There was a pause, after which Arya nodded, promising a vow of silence. Daenerys let her finger fall away. "As I was saying, just when I think I know what to expect from you, you go and say the last thing I thought I'd hear tonight."

She looked into Arya's eyes and could tell she was preparing to respond so Daenerys stopped savoring the moment as she had been and finished. "I love you too and I have for a long time." As she watched the myriad of emotions passing over her face, Daenerys did her best to identify each one before it was gone. "You were right about one thing though," Daenerys said as an afterthought.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"We aren't going to the crypt tonight," Daenerys said as she knelt on her half of the bed. In perfect synchronization, she pushed the fabric of her dress off her shoulders. The material slid down her body and puddled at her knees. "I don't think we'll be leaving this bed until sunrise at least."

"At least," Arya agreed, her eyes drinking in Daenerys's form as she got to work on her own clothes.

R-C

"No one will be required to accompany us," Daenerys said to preface what was coming. "The main army can start to pack up the camp and when they're ready, begin the march down from Winterfell toward King's Landing. Arya, I and whoever wishes to join us will not be gone long. We will catch up to the khalasar long before you near the capitol."

"It's cold there," she told the Dothraki around her. "Colder than here. There is no danger, no one to fight. Ride South and prepare for battle. When we arrive, I will lead you against our enemies."

The Dothraki shrieked in appreciation of Arya's words. Very few had a desire to see the famous Wall. They didn't care who built it, or why. It didn't matter to them how tall it was, or how long it kept the Seven Kingdoms safe. To the Dothraki, unless their enemy was on the other side, it was of little importance.

"Are you sure you aren't willing to join us Ser?" Daenerys asked her knight. "Your father is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is he not?"

"He was," Jorah allowed, "but that was years ago. I don't even know if he lives."

"Do you not wish to find out?"

"My father made his opinions on my conduct quite clear in our last correspondence. He left little doubt what would await me if he saw me again," Jorah explained sadly.

Daenerys had heard enough. She thought she was helping by suggesting he accompany them, but she could see now it was far more complicated. "Fine. The Blood Riders are coming with us, so you'll be responsible for moving the army…"

"Don't rush," Arya interjected. "It'll be a short visit, but the weather can be treacherous that far North."

"We'll be fine."

"Just make sure you don't get to King's Landing before we do," Arya instructed.

"This is your war. We aren't fighting it without you. We probably shouldn't be fighting it at all," Jorah finished with contempt.

"Let's not do this again," Daenerys implored.

"If you disagree with what Daenerys and I have planned, you're free to go. You don't have to fight in a war you don't believe in."

"I'm loyal to the Khaleesi and will honor her wishes, but I know we're here for your pride and little else," Jorah declared with a fierce glare.

Daenerys was ready to intervene between the woman she loved and her oldest friend if necessary, but it wasn't. To her surprise, Jorah's words passed as if Arya hadn't heard them. The Northern woman took Daenerys's hand and interlocked their fingers. Somehow this action managed to hurt Jorah far worse than any words Arya might have said.

R-C

Rumors had spread through Winterfell like Wildfire. They said the savages would be leaving for the South while Arya and a small group of her friends headed North to the Wall. Ned knew why she was going and he was proud of his difficult daughter. She'd always had a strong kinship to Jon. He was the one who gave her Needle, a reward as their father saw it for treating him as a Stark and not a Snow. Jon may have been a bastard to him, and a painful reminder to Cat but Arya never saw him that way. He always admired that about her.

Missandei was chatting happily near a fire with Robb and Talisa, while the child slept in her arms. Rickon was swinging the wooden arakh his sister made for him, grinning as he did, trying to tempt two of his guards into a fight. Catelyn was in the kitchen making arrangements for their dinner. Outside Bran was making use of his new saddle in the courtyard, taking instruction from Kelo and Harvin. Although she wasn't present, Arya had taken advantage of his invitation to allow the Blood Riders inside the walls. A few questions at the gate and he learned Arya hadn't returned to the Dothraki camp that day. When he searched nearly the whole of Winterfell without success, he knew there was only one place left for her to be.

He was pleased when he heard the muffled whispers. He descended the steps slowly, attempting to remain quiet. Arya was surely different from the girl who once lived down the hall, but if she'd come to pay her respects to their ancestors, then maybe she wasn't as far gone as he originally feared.

Ned's feelings changed when he reached the bottom and realized he hadn't heard Arya praying out loud before the statues but Arya and Daenerys whispering together. His child stood against the wall, her hands folded behind her back. On her knees in front of his father's shrine Daenerys wept.

He wanted to charge in, to demand the Targaryen leave a place where she didn't belong, but the conversation he overheard slowed him.

"…how could he do this?" Daenerys was asking. "How could anyone be capable of this?"

Pushing off the wall, Ned watched as Arya closed the gap between them. With a tender touch, one he hadn't seen in the 'new' Arya, she lifted Daenerys to her feet and turned her away from her grandfather. "He earned his name," she stated simply. "He was ill."

Daenerys sank into Arya's open arms. "What does that say about me?" she questioned. "Is that what we have to look forward to, my descent into madness?"

"You aren't your father," Arya said with force. "You aren't going to lose your mind. You are kind, and decent and beautiful. That will never change."

Ned's face heated as he listened. He couldn't explain why exactly, but somehow the moment he was witnessing seemed too private to spy on. Never before had he felt that way inside Winterfell. All at once, he saw what Robb, Arya, and Cat had been telling him. Maybe Daenerys was different. He still wasn't sure, but for the first time he was willing to entertain the possibility.

"You knew Viserys," Daenerys said after a lull where Arya did nothing more than hold her. "He was cruel and obsessed with the Iron Throne. Turning out like him wouldn't be much better."

"You are nothing like your brother!" Arya shouted, her voice echoing around them. "He was an abusive pig and if Drogo hadn't killed him, I would've."

Smiling against her tears Daenerys leaned in and pressed her lips to Arya's. Ned watched, expecting his daughter to push the Targaryen away, but she didn't. Instead she gripped her around the waist and gripped her tightly as the kiss deepened. He never considered the reason for Arya's devotion, but he likely should have. Her spirited defense of the Targaryen made much more sense now.

He escaped the crypt without revealing himself. The final thing he heard was Arya saying, "Next is my Aunt Lyanna."

R-C

Half a dozen Dothraki were accompanying them to the Wall. Arya knew it wasn't out of interest in seeing the wonder but only in a desire to protect her and Daenerys. Jorah refused to join them, afraid of angering his father. He would lead the army South in the coming days.

Almost entirely covered in furs Missandei rode atop her horse to where Arya and Daenerys were waiting for the others. They both took notice. "Missandei," Daenerys started, "you don't need to come along, unless you are sure you want to."

"I am your handmaiden and your advisor," she replied. "What if you need my aid or advice on your journey?"

Throwing a sharp look at Arya, she smiled fondly. "Should that happen, I'll put Arya to work until we return to you."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Arya joked from nearby. "I can't craft those braids she likes as you do and I have little chance of providing helpful advice regardless of the situation." She gave Missandei a knowing smirk. "Trust me, your job will be secure. In fact, I bet after a few weeks with me, she'll be eager to have you back at her side."

"You're irreplaceable," she said to her lover, before her violet eyes landed on Missandei. "And you are welcome to do as you please. If you wish to see the Wall, join us. If you ache for warmer climates, help Ser Jorah lead the khalasar South."

"My place is with you," she decided, her posture changing with the new wave of determination, "unless you two want to be alone, that is."

"Daenerys and I will have plenty of time to be alone," Arya predicted.

"She's right, but there is no need for you to freeze needlessly. We'll be back with the khalasar before you reach the spot where we came ashore."

Missandei considered her options for a few moments then angled her horse to Arya. "This Wall is truly made of ice?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I can't imagine such a thing. I would like to see it, even if it kills me in the process."

Moving away from Arya, Daenerys put a heated hand on Missandei's nearest leg. "I would never let you freeze."

"Do you have room for a few more?" Ned asked as he and four of his men rode into the Dothraki camp.

The good-natured teasing and laughing was over and all three women were suddenly serious. "You intend to join us Lord Stark?"

Despite the question coming from Daenerys, it was Arya he addressed. "I haven't seen Jon in ages. I'm not sure the next time I'll be back in the North, so it seemed prudent to take advantage."

His daughter nodded. "Lead the way. We'll catch up shortly."

She spent an hour going around the camp, ensuring everyone knew what was expected of them in after they were gone. Predictably when they reached Jorah he tried to change Daenerys's mind. "Khaleesi," he pleaded, "the wilds near the Wall are dangerous. There is too much risk for you to accompany Arya on her personal errand." He pushed a hand through his hair and groaned. "If something happened to you…"

"Nothing will happen. I'll be perfectly safe with Arya and the others," Daenerys stated calmly.

"It's far too great a risk," he said, repeating his earlier point. "Stay with the khalasar, stay with your people and we will lead them together."

Daenerys set a kiss onto Jorah's prickly cheek. "I'll see you again in a few days," she exaggerated. "Keep our people safe."

"I will," he swore, blushing as Daenerys returned to Arya's side.

Their horses were delivered to them and they said their final goodbyes. Arya looked up at the thick clouds and the lightly falling snow. If the weather permitted they would catch up to her father and his men by dinner.