ARYA IV

"Arya walked towards the left gate entrance of the castle. Bran stood there with his direwolf pup Summer. The inner courtyard of Winterfell was awash with dust, moving men and women carrying food, tools and many other things. Arya had begun to recognize some of the guards, though. There was Porther and Dacks, Jekken, Varly and Fat Tom. Many more she still would need to speak to.

The pups had all grown up enough to follow them around, as they walked through the courtyard. Arya had named her pup after Nymeria, the Dornish warrior queen who had come from Rhoyne and led her people across the Summer sea with a thousand ships. Bran had named his pup Summer. Robb had named his Grey Wind, though Arya was almost certain that he had had a swift grey horse by the same name some years back. Perhaps that was on purpose. Sansa had named her pup Lady, of course, and Rickon had named his one Shaggydog, as he was only a baby and too stupid to understand the difference between a wolf and dog. She had even told him, told him outright, but Rickon had still ran after the pup, shouting "Shaggydog! Shaggydog! Good Shaggydog!". Arya had smacked herself on the face with a sour look, to Bran's laughter.

Now they were out in the courtyard, playing and exploring. Jory and Ser Marlon stood close by Bran walked across the courtyard, hopping up and balancing on a wooden buck as Summer followed after him on the ground with his happy little pink tongue lapping out. The pups really were sweet. Arya's pup Nymeria followed her as well. Summer had light grey silvery fur and greenish yellow eyes. Nymeria had greyish brown fur and dark golden eyes. Lady was beautiful, just as Sansa, white grey with golden yellow eyes, tame and docile in her manners. She would come up with a smile and lick Sansa's hand, and Sansa would giggle. Even Arya had to admit that it was a sweet sight.

"Gods, but they grow up fast!" Mother said as she swiftly traversed the courtyard, holding her skirts hiked up around her northern style boots and watching Summer.

It was true. It had only gone four days since they got the pups from Father and Uncle Benjen's hunt, and they were already longer in the legs and more active than before, following the kids everywhere they went. Grey Wind was in the fighting of the courtyard just now, standing by as Robb, Gerion, Quentyn, Willam and all the others hacked away at each other.

Arya hopped up behind Bran to balance on the wooden buck, with Nymeria hopping up after her. Arya smiled at that. Summer might follow Bran down on the ground but Nymeria was brave enough to follow her up on the wooden beam as well.

"Look, she's also coming up!" Arya said.

Bran looked back at them.

"Can wolves climb?" He said. "I thought that was only for humans and birds."

"And squirrels", Arya pointed out.

"And shadowcats and tree cats", Bran said.

"And tree cats and..." Bran had already said tree cats. "And martens!"

"And lizards", Bran said.

"And monkeys", Arya said, laughing.

"And... ants..." Bran said.

"That's no deer", Arya said, having already learned the word from the Northern tongue, although Father had surely used the word some time in the Red Keep as well, she thought. "It's an insect! A small creep!"

Bran had tired of the conversation. He was looking up at the roof and rafters again.

"Don't even think about it. You know that Jory is watching you."

Jory gave Bran and Arya a look which confirmed all of their sentiments. Bran's mouth went to disappointment and he turned down his head again.

Uncle Benjen suddenly came up to them then, riding through the gatehouse in a frenzied storm of dust and clappering hooves on his swift black horse, Sprinter or whatever it was called, and shouting out to them.

"Right then! Who wants to go with to the Wolfswood?"

Arya screamed in joy.

"I do! I do!"

Benjen laughed.

"Well then, go to the stables and get yourselves a horse. Bran, you can take the one you had when we went hunting. Arya, go tell Hullen to pick out a good and calm one for you."

Arya frowned. "A calm one? But I want a wild horse, just like yours!"

Benjen laughed again.

"Are you sure that you could handle it then? It takes a certain manner of work to take charge of such a horse. It is not only to be swift as the horse yourself, you have to make sure that it trusts you, and listens to where you want to go, or that you can follow in its steps properly, or else it will take you with it to any strange place it will find."

"I can control it, I'm sure!" Arya said.

"All right then", Benjen smiled. "Go and speak to Hullen, and he will see what he does."

Arya grinned, running all the way to the stables with Bran and the wolf pups hack in their heals.

She saw that Joffrey Lannister was there as well. The older boy had long blonde curles, just like Lady Cersei and Myrcella, and a face which looked somehow arrogant and haughty.

"Are you going horse riding with Uncle Benjen as well?" Arya asked.

"Yes," Joffrey replied, barely looking down on her. "Why go all the way up to dreary Winterfell if you can't enjoy what little charms of the North there are to be had?"

"You're a Lannister", Arya said, half as a question and half as a statement.

"Yes", Joffrey said, seemingly annoyed with the comment. "What of it?"

"Is Lady Cersei your mother?" she asked. "And Myrcella your sister?"

"No", he said, clearly discomforted by the question.

"Are they your cousins? You have hair exactly like them!" Arya said. "Golden."

Joffrey looked down on her then, trembling his head in a swagger which seemed to waver halfway between dissatisfaction, insecurity and pride.

"Yes, of course. I'm a Lannister of the Rock. And so is my... sister.", he said.

"So she is your sister?"

"My lady Cersei, I mean.", he said, clearly not enjoying the talk of relations as much as she was.

"What, Cersei is your sister? But she is so much older than you!"

Joffrey looked truly uncomfortable now, but then he swallowed the sensation, picking up something deep beneath himself, and swivelled out with his blonde locks in the air in front of her, as he held one hand on the saddle of his horse behind him.

"That is because my Father is the great Lord Tywin Lannister", he said. "And a Lannister of the Rock may have many different children, in many different ages, as long as he wills it."

Arya looked down then, supposing that she was content with the answer.

"Okay..." she mumbled. "Have you ever been to the North before?"

"No", he said, looking away in discomfort again at her asking, as if the answer was an absurd one, which perhaps it was. But if Cersei was his sister they might have met before, she thought. Although they had certainly seemed uncomfortable at the Neck and the Barrowlands during their journey there, for as little as they had met them then.

Arya turned back to her own horse, as Hullen and Harwin stood cratsing their hooves one last time. When Bran saw that Father would not be riding with them, however, and that the weather was as cold as yesterday had been, he became less excited at the prospect, telling Hullen and Harwin in a solemn voice that he might stay behind at the castle instead. They both seemed to accept it with a "Of course, my prince" and no other questions asked. Bran went out and back to the courtyard.

When Hullen had given them a couple of nice horses, they all rode out, Uncle Benjen, Arya and Robb, Willam, Theon Greyjoy, Jon, Joffrey, his guardsman Jyck, and Harwin. It was better to be a small party if they wished to see something, Benjen had explained.

They all rode fast. Arya supposed it was good that Bran was not with them. He was only seven, and would not have been able to keep up with the high tempo. It was near enough that she did not herself, and she was nine. Benjen had to stop himself sometimes, to make sure that they all came with him and that noone strayed behind. Harwin rode ahead, as fast as the wind, but apart from him, Benjen himself was the fastest, of course, and then Robb and Willam and Theon Greyjoy, galloping like the wind of three fast and strong adult younglings, with Joffrey soon behind. Joffrey's guard Jyck half-trotted, half-galloped, soon becoming far behind, almost behind Arya herself, as he cursed at the uneven footing of the pebbles, bushes and small trees rising up almost everywhere.

She liked her horse. It had a nice beige soft winter coat of fur and blue eyes like what she had imagined winter frost to look like all of her life, before seeing the slightly more white colour of it here some eternal six or seven days back, just before the day of the hunt. It felt safe in her hands, and took to her every command, though Hullen had chosen a calm and steady horse, and so her sweet winter frost filly did not ride very fast. Still, Arya was glad. They were out and galloping, and Uncle Benjen was as happy as she had ever seen a man to be, certainly a hundred times happier than Father usually was when he rode, with a broad smile and laughter on his face as the wind snapped and fluttered at his long dark brown hair, just the same matte dark colour as Arya's herself. This was what she was born for, certainly. She felt that she wanted to chase after him, but she could not, not with her calm and steady frost filly.

"That's all right, girl", she comforted the horse, stroking its wheat-coloured hair mane. "I like you all the same."

Joffrey came up behind her just then, on his fast grey [courser? ], riding so close that her frost filly got scared and neighed.

"Hey, watch it!" Arya shouted after him.

"Aren't you a Stark?" he said, calling from a couple of feet away as his horse made to turn back again, clippeting with its hooves at the cold hard heathland of the ground. "You are supposed to be born in the saddle from what I've heard! Just like your uncle!"

"I've got a slow horse!" Arya said, angrily.

"Whatever", Joffrey mumbled, turning to steer a wider way around, behind her and then up to Jyck instead.

"Try and keep up, Jyck! You're embarrassing me in front of the Northerners."

"Yes, my lord", Jyck grumbled, tugging faster at his reins and kicking his horse into a gallop again.

"It is only that the uneven ground is so bedragerly. It's the most terrible footing I've ever experienced."

"You had better get used to it. We'll be out until the afternoon, Lord Benjen says." He paused for a while, still a couple of horse lengths away from her. Arya stood at the back, Jyck further front to the right, and Joffrey further still in front but to the left now, having squeezed his way between Arya and Jyck and now beginning to grow restless and wanting to return to Robb and the other boys.

"I'm going after them", Joffrey said dismissively, not caring if Jyck kept up with his pace, as he ruck into his stirrups and heying his horse on ellegantly.

"Seven save me..." Jyck grumbled, apparently to Arya, or else to himself, for there was noone else there.

"Are you coming along, Arya?" Uncle Benjen called from far away at the edge of the entrance to the woods.

"I'm coming!" Arya shouted back as loud as she could for him to hear.

They thundered through the forest, Joffrey riding akapp with Robb, Theon and all the rest.

"Indeed it is true what my lord father told me about House Stark. Shall we make this interesting, my Prince?" Joffrey asked.

"Certainly!" Robb said.

"'Race you. All the way to the old tree over there!" Joffrey said, pointing to an old gnarled redwood tree that had rutted over to the side by a small stream some two or three hundred feet away.

"I'm in too!" Theon said.

"The road isn't wide enough for three", Joffrey said.

"He is right", Willam said. "Elsewise it would be much a game of pushing and shoving, and not horsemanship."

"Surely a bit of push and shove is part of the game", Theon laughed, exposing his wide row of teeth with a toothgap in the middle.

"Listen to Robb", Jon said in an annoyed tone.

"Well, I certainly won't listen to you anyway", Theon shot back.

"Right!" Robb interjected. "Am I going to race him or no? "

Theon shut his mouth at that. Robb continued on.

"This will be an interesting race. The North versus the west. The great horse tourney at the Wolfswood, The year of 298 after Aegon's Conquest."

"The 14th year of King Eddard Stark's rule", Theon added. "The silent wolf."

"Horse riding with no lance, only talent and horsemanship.", Robb went on.

Willam looked on with an interested look.

"I'll count to three", he said, before Theon could say anything about it, "being the cross of Stark and Lannister myself, I will be the judge for it".

Theon and Jon both nodded in agreement.

"That seems about right", Robb said.

"At the left: Joffrey of House Lannister of Casterly Rock. … How old are you?"

"Thirrteen", Joffrey said, slightly annoyed.

"Thirteen years of age!... And Prince Robb of House Stark... Fourteen years of age!"

"Be in your places", Willam said, angling his look at both Joffrey and Robb.

"One... Two... Three...!"

They both took of, Joffrey to the left and Robb to the right, with Joffrey giving a smack to his horse to make it run faster, while Robb leaned forward, put his heels hard into his spurs, and Arya watched his grey cloak flap wildly behind him, just as Joffrey's did in red and gold on the other side.

And they were off, galloping thunderously forward like two sandstorms, both of them racing, ka-thundering, dundering and galloping with their hooves, and for a moment it seemed almost as if they would be evenly matched, as Robb had gotten away faster at the start, but Joffrey soon gained on him, galopping up on his [ ] and smiling a smug smile at Robb from across the pathway.

But then Robb leaned forward again, pushing on his horse to take him over, as they were nearing the last third of the way, and Joffrey got a slight disadvantage from hitting a branch to his left. Arya heard him cursing, just an angry shot out in the air before him, as Robb took over and made a lead, galloping all the way to the finish line by the turned-over redwood tree and the stream. Joffrey came only a couple of seconds after, but it was enough for them to see that Robb was the winner.

"Blasted forest!" Joffrey swore.

"And the winner is... Prince Robb of House Stark!" Willam announced.

Robb smiled, bowing before the praise and prancing an extra couple of paces to calm down his horse from the speed of the gallop, as Joffrey did much the same, but with an angry look.

"If you people managed your clearings a bit better and didn't leave trees falling out onto the track, perhaps I'd have won!" Joffrey snarled at Willam.

"It is thick with forest in the North. Most everywhere. Get used to it", Willam said, tiredly.

Joffrey continued to grumble as they rode back to the rest.

Benjen and Harwin came back from having ridden out some place else earlier.

"What's going on?" He asked, with his breath still steaming up his neck and sweat pouring.

"We just had a race", Theon said, "Robb versus Joffrey". Benjen looked surprised. "Robb won."

"Well then, congratulations, my prince though I am sure that Joffrey also rode well."

It was as if Benjen could sense that Joffrey would be mad for his failure.

"I did", he spat out. "Thankyou, my lord. The tree branches got in my way."

Benjen nodded back, managing a tightening his mouth together, and then the issue was buried.

"Well then... Should we be heading back, or shall we continue so that I can show you the old stone wall?"

"There is a wall here in the forest?" Arya said.

"There sure is. An old hunter's croft, I believe it to be. He had a mighty fine wall, but it must have been some hundreds of years back. The place is all grown over with moss. One can still go up on the wall, though. The stones are almost all intact.

Joffrey sighed, clearly disappointed with the dreariness of the North once again.

"If that is what you have to offer, Lord Stark, then we shall be glad to check it out."

Theon laughed a little at the wording.

"What he has to offer? Tighten loose a bit, Joffrey. What else did you expect to find up here in the woods? A nice warm inn with some golden-haired tavern wenches to pour you Dornish wine?"

He laughed, as did Willam, though discreetly, not to give offense to his... cousin? Arya was unsure.

"I had expected to see some more wolves perhaps, if this is indeed called the Wolfswood.", Joffrey said. "So far... there's nothing. Only woods and more woods."

"The wolves will come, if we wait 'til the night", Benjen said. "But it is not so good of an idea to do that. And there are not only wolves here, either. Brown bears, shadowcats... And worse things."

"It certainly couldn't be any worse than having to deal with all the mosquitoes and lack of roads", Joffrey complained.

"We get it", Willam said. "It's not Casterly Rock or Lannisport. Try and do the best with what it is."

Joffrey soured, but held his tongue after that at least.

"Well then..." Benjen said. "Come on, lads. And Arya. Next up is the mill. My sister Lyanna used to love going there. We would ride there once every moon, at least."

"Great! I want to see it!" Arya said, trying to bring some light into the conversation again, something which Benjen appreciated. And then they set off to the direction of the mill, though it was a long one, and Benjen led the way.

...

…

When they all got home later that afternoon they were all tired but happy. Although Joffrey still seemed somewhat sour, and he cursed at all the mosquito bites he had gotten on his neck. Jon did as well, smacking at a mosquito with his black glove when it neared him in the air with a surring sound, but somehow it sounded more petulant coming from Joffrey. He sounded like a girl, like Sansa when she was whining over something, Arya thought.

Benjen came up to her after they had dismounted by the stables.

"So, now you got to see it. Did you like it?" He asked her.

"I loved it!" Arya said. "I only wish I could have gone faster, or had a faster horse, but..."

"Aaah, don't think about that!" Uncle Benjen said, whisking away the notion with his hand. "You did great. Perhaps next time you can have a faster one. A [courser? ], truly fit for a Stark princess.

"I would very much like that." Arya said. They all stood putting off their riding cloaks and boots as Benjen neared Arya again, holding something behind his back, a packet or something like it.

"I brought you a present today", Benjen said smiling, "though you'll have to ask your Father if you can use it. It's not for girls, in truth."

Arya immediately became excited at the thought.

"For true? What is it? What is it?" She jumped up and down, trying to see what was in the packet.

Benjen slowly lifted down the brown cloth packet, which was folded over with a fabric servett with the Stark direwolf on it, and gave it from his tall length all the way down to her arms and hands.

She opened the package. It was a long, slender metallic thing, a slender steel stick with a handle and pommel, and beside it a tiny whetstone and a swatch of beige clothing lay.

"A sword!" Arya exclaimed.

"Aye", Benjen smiled. "But only a small one. Mostly for practice."

She lay down the sword and hopped up into his arms to thank him.

"Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, Uncle Benjen!" She cried. He hugged her hard and warmly back, holding her for a long while, and then putting her down on the ground again. She almost thought that she saw wet tears and red at the corner of his eyes, but she was sure that she was imagining herself. Uncle Benjen could not cry. He was always happy.

But perhaps they were tears of joy... She had heard of those, in Grand Maester Pycelles' lessons when he had spoken of the ancient song about the victory at the battle of Golden Clyft, when Lady Caroline Clyft had cried tears of joy at surviving the jump over the broken bridge to reunite with her husband Lord Steffon Clyft as the army of the Oakharts came amassing behind them, yes, Arya had heard the stories of joyful tears, but never ever saw them. She thought it strange that one would cry if one were happy. Nonehteless, Benjen smiled.

"You'll have to practice at it as often as you can. Almost every day, I reckon."

"I will! I promise!" She said.

"And remember. This is no toy. A practice sword, perhaps... But it can kill a man all the same, or a woman, if you poke them full of holes inside."

"I understand", Arya said solemnly. "I will only use it if I am set upon by wildlings.", She said, half joking, half being serious.

Benjen looked at herd with severity then, stopping up for a long while. "This is serious, Arya."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I know. I won't use it other than when practicing."

"I meant the wildlings."

She looked up, surprised.

"They are out there. It is not just some story. They were here not too many years ago, trying to breach the gate and come inside. Then I was glad to have all of my loyal and brave watchmen here."

"But you have great walls here. They can't get in. … Can they?"

"Perhaps they cannot, but the wintertown is an easier prey. They came in there, and killed four men and two women before we had a chance to stop them. I don't ever want you to think that the wildling are just some story from old times past. Your Father has told them about them, hasn't he?"

"Yes..." she said.

"And what has he told you about them?" Benjen said.

"That they... Come down from beyond the Wall to plunder. And... kill sometimes."

"That is true. They are a dangerous people, for that they are lonesome and desperate, and they live in a hard land, and that they do not follow laws and rules the same as us. We must all fight against them when they come. And the men of the Night's Watch are doing a good job to keep them at bay. But more is always needed."

Arya nodded somberly, sad to have disappointed Benjen with her ignorance.

"I understand. I did not mean to laugh about it."

"All right", Benjen said. "That is good, Arya. As long as you understand the dangers that a sword is made to handle, and that you don't point it at someone just because you are mad at them. ... Now off with ye', go and have fun with it. I have to go and meet with Cersei.", he said, tousling her hair somewhat, and then being on his way.

She was glad for the present, but suddenly sad, sad and shameful for the letting down to Uncle Benjen.

She slowly made her way back towards the courtyard, where she had last seen Bran. He was not there, though, and neither was Summer. Perhaps he had gone to the Broken Old Tower which they had spoken of exploring earlier that day, in the morning. She went around, looking for something to do, as Ser Arys accompanied her and welcomed her back from her riding.

They walked in the courtyard, as Nymeria came running up to her from the side alley where she had left her with Rickon and Shaggydog earlier. She smiled and laughed as she saw Nymeria running up to her excitedly.

"Hello Nymeria! I missed you!"

Nymeria woofed and barked, hopping up in her lap. Arya giggled, stroking her fur and trying her best not to be completely slabbered by Nymeria's little pink tongue over her forehead, cheeks and everywhere else, though she supposed that she helped her clean of the sweat. I must taste like a salted ham, she reflected. The flies soon came on her again as well.

"Look what I got from Uncle Benjen, Nymeria! A sword!"

Nymeria sniffed at the sword, but Arya pulled it away from her before she had a chance to lick it.

…

"All the best swords have names you know", she suddenly heard a voice saying from somewhere beside. It was Jon.

"Hello, Jon."

"Hello, princess.", he teased her somewhat, but was also being half serious.

"You don't have to call me that anymore, I've told you a hundred times. You can just call me Arya. We are cousins after all."

"All right... Arya." He smiled.

"I wouldn't know what to name it", she said, holding up the sword carefully, examining its weight and handle.

"It's so skinny", she smiled.

"Just like you", Jon pointed out with a smile.

"But what name can I give it? Robb's steel sword is called Grey Justice. He always names his things grey. He is strong, but he has no imagination."

Jon laughed.

"Perhaps he just likes the colour grey." Jon shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you like?" He asked her.

"I don't know", she said. "I named Nymeria after... Nymeria... The warrior queen..."

"I have heard of her", Jon said, with an amused grin.

"But a sword... I don't know... I only know what I don't like to do."

"And what is that?" Jon asked her.

"Sewing. But I have to sew all the time."

"A wise man once told me that one should accept what one is, and what one has in one's life, so that that way, the world can never use it to hurt you."

"A wise man? Who? Maester Luwin?"

"Lord Tyrion."

Arya grew confounded at that.

"Accept that I must be a princess stuck at sewing..." She considered the thought.

"So..." She looked up at Jon, and then at the sword. Then they both said it, at the same time. One, two, three.

"Needle!"

Arya and Jon both laughed.