Having spent time amongst them, the first thing one will notice is the surprising beauty and resilience of their women. Not only do they clean and cook, they also lead the camps; babe in arm, directing men on where to pasture. We know them as Dothraki, however they call themselves 'Oselikai', and of these, there are many divisions."- Daemond Of The Two Worlds:Races Of Essos
ARYA I
Arya decided to spend much of the early morning keeping to her room. It was large, smaller than Sansa's massive block but much bigger than the room Jon was given. Ironically, she typically hated being told to stay in her bedroom, but the excitement of the wolves combined with the news of this 'King Robert' visiting had turned the normally quiet halls of Winterfell into a hive of activity. Even now, she heard multiple steps walking just outside her locked door, rushing to ensure that Winterfell would be a hall fit for a King.
Arya sighed, slouching as she turned to review the items found within her immediate surroundings.
Her room possessed all the niceties a girl her age would need: a glass mirror, a furnace with real wood burning inside of it, a dresser for clothes (complete with a walk-in closet.)
From her bed, Arya turned to watch Nymeria nibbling on one of her shoes. She laughed, unbothered as the pup's sharp teeth punctured finely made soles.
Arya, of course, had decided to name her pup Nymeria. Robb noticed Arya's love for reading.. And had given her many of his learning books detailing the stories of Old. Arya-
She loved the books.
Unlike the datadisks she received from schooling, the books were bound materials, complete with covers and pages that almost bled information.
Arya adored them- she loved how they felt, loved how their words looked on the old parchment... Robb had said that Father himself gave the books to him, noting that no one expressed an interest in history other than Robb-
To which now, Arya was the next benefactor. Arya smiled, looking at the books as they sat above her dresser. Despite this, however, Arya didn't feel like reading right now.
Boredom.
Due to the King's visit, everyone was preoccupied. Sansa was even taking additional etiquette classes so their Andal guests wouldn't be insulted by any misspoken word or action. Arya and Sansa got along quite well- At least when none of Sansa's friends were around. In the years past they often spent time exploring Winterfell with Bran, climbing and running about. After a while however, mother had forbade this, and Sansa was kept to maintaining a certain decorum, one befitting of a Lady.
Mother.. She was furious upon seeing Sansa's wolf, however it seemed that Mother was moreso focused on this King than anything else, and promptly let this minor grievance slide.
Mother..
Arya could picture her now, rushing about the castle, flanked by aids and assistants who got jittery when she asked things like "Why is this still here?" and, "This looks terrible, do it again better."
Everyone was cleaning and fussing and yelling and getting stressed out. Arya didn't see what the big deal was.
Arya coughed softly, sliding off of her bed and onto the floor.
Nymeria padded up to her, now disinterested by Arya's half destroyed shoe.
Nymeria licked Arya with a wet tongue, Arya laughing and hugging her, wrapping thin arms around the growing wolf's neck.
Through Arya's one window the sound of hovercrafts pulling against the air was heard.
Shouts and orders floated between the landing crews and the craft waiting patiently (sometimes not so patiently) for the next delivery of southern goods.
Arya got up to her feet and walked to the window, Nymeria in tow. Arya smirked, seeing that Winterfell's court was in disarray- People scurried about the snowy ground, little ants to Arya's eyes. She raised her hand and followed the men, squishing them between her fingers. She giggled, then turned to face her mirror.
She wore the same clothing as she did the day before, and her hair was unruly.
She had thick dark brown hair, almost as black as Jon's and fathers. She studied her face, comparing herself to them now as she always did. When she was younger, she had thought she was a bastard.
To her, 'Bastard' meant having black hair and gray eyes. Arya asked mother if she was like Jon, and Catelynn had laughed, reassuring her that she was not a bastard at all.
Still...
Arya saw Jon in her face. The same solemn eyes, the same long and solemn features, even the same ears . . . She didn't mind though.
Sansa looked too much like a fiery red flame, sharing her mother's square face and red hair. Robb looked like her, and Bran looked like a young Robb. Baby Rickon had dark hair when he was born, but now it was turning to a ruddy red, his eyes bright blue like Catelynn.
Nymeria brushed against Arya's leg, distracting her from bored musings. Arya looked down at her, and the wolf turned to the door forlornly.
"You want to go outside?" Arya asked, leaning over to pet Nymeria. She was eleven, two years older than Bran and three years younger than Sansa. Robb was the oldest, but only by a few months. Rickon was only four, and Jon was around the same age as Robb, but so much smaller that you would think he was much, much younger. But, he was a bastard, so Arya mused it didn't really matter. Bastards matured faster than trueborn children, Old Nan had told them.
The old woman had spoke in that tittering way of speaking she had, her voice wracked by years and years of unending life.
Arya had no idea how old 'Old' Nan was.
Father said that the woman was as old as Winterfell, to which Arya had believed until about a year ago. She blushed inadvertently, remembering how embarrassed she was when Sansa told her that wasn't possible. Arya knelt downwards, gathering Nymeria within her arms. She was about to leave her room-
Then realized it would probably be best to cover Nymeria with something. Arya looked about her bed, before finally settling on a small wolfskin blanket conveniently the same shade as Nymeria's fur.
With her cargo sufficiently obscured, Arya made way for her door, opening it and instantly being hit by a rush of activity.
Everywhere servants tried hanging tapestries, scented candles, and sigils of lions and stags.
Arya liked the stag. It was black on a yellow field, standing tall and vigilant. It was powerful, and it made her feel safe. The lion however . . .
It unnerved her. It was too yellow, the image of the lion as bright as the morning sun. It stood on hind legs, with paws raised in attack. The mouth of the lion was open, revealing bloody teeth, as a tail curled around the thickness of the lion's legs. It looked scary, and Arya was ashamed to admit that she shook when she gazed at it.
Even now, Arya stood dumbly at the foot of her room, watching as everyone moved about her under the gaze of the Lannister beast, newly hanged. Arya began to make her way down to the main hall.
More than once, people nearly bumped into her, and some did, giving pained apologies as they scurried by. Men with data chartres argued with men without them, pointing to holographic diagrams that shifted with each stroke of their fingers. Machines moved, too.
Little ones, large ones, and even some of the gargantuan domestic construction models, assisted people as they hung flags from the high ceilings of the castle-
While tiny robots, no more than moving boxes, sent and received messages and ferried small tools to builders.
Arya noticed that it was hotter than normal within Winterfell, and this, she realized, was done for the mechanized contraptions that typically were a rare sight. Robb had said something about southron and westling machines being unfit for the cold here, and how that in itself was a protection in times long past.
Arya shivered, eyeing the Human-sized skeletal machinations that watched with red eyes, recording everything silently. Those ones unnerved her. They were scary too- With their skulls and maroon eyes, they looked more like ghosts than robots. She couldn't imagine facing one in battle, but knew that many, including Father, had.
"Arya, what are you doing?" She heard Jon's voice as she turned her head, saw him walking up to her, his long hair brushing against his cheeks.
He is little, Arya thought.
Arya was nearly up to his chest, and she was younger than he.
"Nothing I guess. Everything is going on but I'm not involved. Everyone, even Sansa is busy. What are you doing?" She asked him.
Jon shrugged. He was wearing a gray tunic with black trousers. Brown boots hugged his feet, reaching halfway up to his knees. In his hands, his direwolf, as white as snow, peered at her with red eyes.
"Have you named him yet?" She asked casually. Jon suddenly looked stricken, his face frozen in strange fear. It was then that Arya noticed he had been crying. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he returned to his normal level of composure.
"Ghost. It's a fitting name, I think." Jon smiled at Arya, and she returned it back to him, mirroring the expression on her face.
"And yours?"
"Nymeria!"
Jon grinned. "A name from one of your books?" Jon glanced down at the small pup that was huddled within Arya's blankets.
Arya nodded happily.
Jon's smile grew wider for a moment, then thinned as his face took on a more serious expression.
"I was going to go to the Godswood, if you wanted to come along." He invited, and she replied eagerly.
"Anything is better than being here." She said.
Jon agreed silently, bobbing his head forward as he took the lead. They walked together, Arya making a conscious effort to hide her pup, though Jon made no attempt to shield his from prying eyes.
People ignored Jon, not glancing at him or speaking. Some even gave him dirty looks. But they all made sure that they spoke to Arya, granting her with M'lady and princess.
If Jon noticed, he seemed not to care, walking easily as they made their way from the upper walkway of Winterfell's massive halls. Maneuvering between heavy traffic down a fleet of stone stairs found them at the base level of Winterfell. In the main hall, Arya heard the voice of her mother, Lady Catelynn Stark, yelling as two men were moving a large table.
"No you fools! It has to be under the light." She said, shaking her head. She was dressed in a black gown, her body modestly covered from neck to foot, despite this, her figure could still easily be deciphered. As they slinked past, Arya heard Catelynn's piercing voice call her out.
"Arya, where are you going? I thought you were tutoring with Sansa." She said, frowning. Arya turned, and Jon Snow continued off, leaving the main hall.
"I was . . . but, well, I finished. Sansa wanted to learn more of the knitting and cooking- so she is staying later than normally." Arya lied.
Catelynn sighed, running a hand through her long red hair. "Where are you going with him?" She asked, finally.
"To the Godswood." Arya replied, breathless.
Catelynn curled her mouth, and looked down at the direwolf, Nymeria.
Arya winced. She had tried hard to cover her pup, but Catelynn's piercing and discerning eyes spied Nymeria despite Arya's best intentions. However, Catelynn seemed to relax-
But only slightly.
"So be it. Be careful." She said, and turned back to her work in the hall.
Arya sped off, leaving the warmness of Winterfell and graced by the cool air of the outside. The sound of dozens of ships buzzed in the air-
Arya looked above her, eyes filled with wonder as large barges loomed over Winterfell, lower than the gray clouds as hovercrafts zoomed between landing docks and the massive sky-behemoths.
"I've never seen so many ships." Jon said behind her.
He walked ahead, settling in her view. He was right. Their Father hated technology, but it seemed that a visit from the King made him forget his own conventions.
They spoke to each other softly as they made their way to the Godswood, Arya informing Jon of how she skipped her classes today.
Jon had laughed, but he did give her a warning.
"Be sure you do not instigate your mother, Arya. She has done you a service, allowing you that pup." He cautioned.
Arya nodded, knowing he was right.
Still! He has no idea how annoying those etiquette classes are!
Finally, the two siblings made their way to the shimmering glass of the Godswood, interior of it in stark contrast with the mechanical jungle that had taken root within Winterfell walls. Inside, they spied two people conversing. Jon paused by the glass panel, and Arya stood next to him, placing her hand on the shifting wall.
Robb and Eddard.
"I- can't" Jon began.
Arya shook her head, pushing him through the opening glass of the Godswood. The sound of hushed but heated conversation silenced instantly. Arya noticed that both she and Jon sank slightly in the Godswood's moist, untouched earth.
For a while, none of them spoke.
Eddard glanced up at Arya, while Robb's icy blue eyes met Jon's.
