Mid November, 299 AC
Arya gasped for air as the collision knocked the wind out of her. Her mother clasped her in her arms, and all of a sudden she was sobbing, sobbing like a stupid little baby.
By the time Lady Catelyn finally released her they were both sniffling, their eyes puffy. To Arya's surprise, many of the brotherhood were red-eyed, tears trinkling into shaggy beards. Jeyne was weeping into Meri's shoulder too, but that was normal.
No sooner had Lady Catelyn composed herself than she whisked the girls past a dumbstruck lord with red hair who must be her uncle Edmure. Nymeria trailed behind, people scattering to avoid the massive direwolf. Up they went to her mother's chambers, Jeyne still clutching Meri's hand tight.
As always Needle hung at Arya's hip. Lady Catelyn gently set the blade aside, her brows furrowed, as she stripped Arya and pushed her into the tub. While maids scrubbed the dirt from Jeyne and Meri's skin, her mother bathed Arya herself, her hands gentle as she smoothed the tangles from Arya's hair. None of the maids dared attend to Nymeria, so Arya washed the direwolf herself while they waited for gowns to be brought. When the direwolf was clean and all three girls were decent, Lady Catelyn led them to her solar.
Supper was set before them almost immediately. There was trout wrapped in bacon, buttered carrots, mounds of pease, fresh crusty bread. There was even a massive haunch of mutton for Nymeria. For a long while there was no noise but the crunch of bread being torn and the cracking of bone in Nymeria's jaws. Lady Catelyn barely touched her food, her eyes drinking in Arya as if that was all she needed.
When the supper things were cleared, beaming servants brought hot cider and an enormous pile of honeycakes. The taste was so sweet Arya almost cried, and she stuffed down four of them before remembering her manners. Jeyne and Meri showed more restraint, taking smaller but no less eager bites. When the three girls finally abandoned the cakes, their bellies full to bursting, Lady Catelyn pounced.
"How did you escape?"
With a pang in her chest Arya explained about her water dancing lessons, about Syrio, about how he defied a kingsguard with only a wooden sword. Lady Catelyn's eyes flicked to Needle, her expression thoughtful. Arya left out the stableboy she'd killed. Instead, she told her mother about catching cats and the passage under the Red Keep.
Her mother's eyes were sharp, her expression strangely calm as Arya spoke of her time in Flea Bottom, and the cats finding Jeyne and Meri at Littlefinger's brothel. Jeyne and Meri took up the story then, telling how they had been sent away by the queen, how Baelish had ordered them to be trained. That made Lady Catelyn's eyes flash with anger, even when Meri insisted that Bel had kept them safe. Then Arya remembered something important.
"Baelish liked young redheaded whores," Arya blurted. "And Sansa said he was always looking at her like she had no clothes on, and touching her cheek and her hair."
If Arya thought her mother angry before, she had not known what anger was. Lady Catelyn's fists were clenched as she rose to her feet, her lips pressed tight.
"If he weren't dead I'd kill him myself," Lady Catelyn said, fierce as a direwolf.
"He's dead?" Jeyne's eyes were wide with hope. Lady Catelyn nodded.
"I bet the Lannisters killed him," said Arya, wishing she'd been able to stick him with Needle. "So he wouldn't tell what they did."
Lady Catelyn frowned, and Arya realized her mother didn't know.
"He promised father he'd buy the goldcloaks, when the old fat king was dying. For love of- of you, he said. Sansa overheard. But he didn't, he lied , he helped the queen."
"Have you seen Sansa?" Her mother's eyes blazed.
Arya nodded, guilt throbbing in her chest.
"How did she get out?"
Arya bit her lip. Her mother followed the Seven, not the old gods. Her mother was everything a proper lady should be. Lady Catelyn stared at Arya, one eyebrow raised. When Arya remained silent, her mother turned her eyes on the other girls.
"She's a wolf," Jeyne said, quailing under Lady Catelyn's gaze.
"A red one," Meri added.
Arya would have kicked them both, if they were in reach. Lady Catelyn sat down, eyes wide.
"I saw her," she whispered, disbelieving. "I thought-" she fell silent.
Well, in for a copper, in for a dragon.
"She leapt off the wall of the Red Keep, taking Joffrey with her," Arya said proudly. Lady Catelyn started, then made for the door. She opened it, looked both ways, then locked and barred it.
"Keep your voices down," her mother said urgently. "There were rumors, but-"
Softly Arya explained about Yoren, about how Bel had smuggled the direwolf and girls out of the city. Her mother's eyebrows were raised so high they were nearly in her hairline. She said not a word as Arya spoke of the goldcloaks, of stealing away from Yoren, of Gendry following her, of finding Sansa.
On and on Arya babbled, unable to stop. So much had happened since they took her father's head. Finding little baby Nan, getting caught by the brotherhood, the ghost of High Heart, Acorn Hall, Sansa ruling the people of the hollow hill. But she did not speak of riding inside Nymeria, of tasting blood. Mother wouldn't understand, she'd send Arya away.
Finally Arya came to Rushing Falls, and she fell silent, guilt pulsing in her belly. In her mind she saw the red direwolf going over the falls; Ser Amory's face turning black as he dangled from the same noose he'd used on Lord Beric.
As Arya stared at her feet, trying not to vomit, Jeyne took up the tale. She did not say why they had been at Rushing Falls, merely that Sansa had been lost and Arya injured.
They had taken Arya back to the hollow hill. Her head had ached for days, her belly barely able to keep anything down. While Arya lay sick, Nymeria had searched for Sansa without success. Lord Beric decided that Arya must be returned to Riverrun, and when she was well enough to ride, they had made their way here.
Without Sansa. After weeks of staring into the fire Thoros had finally seen Sansa in his flames, clasped in the claws of a lion missing one paw. Arya had tried to steal away that very night, only to be stopped by Gendry. Stupid bull. Arya was her sister, she was her sworn sword, and instead of protecting Sansa from danger, she'd led her into it. How was she to know that Sansa would follow her, let alone leap in front of a sword?
Arya tasted coppery blood as she bit the inside of her cheek. Thoros had not told anyone what he had seen except her and Lord Beric. To the others he simply said that Sansa was alive and well, but he knew not where.
Her mother took Arya's callused hands in hers. She had expected tears, but instead mother's eyes shimmered with guilt.
"Theon took Winterfell," Lady Catelyn said. "Bran and Rickon tried to escape, but he caught them at a mill on the Acorn Water, and mounted their heads on the walls."
Jeyne uttered a small shriek, clapping her hands over her mouth in horror as Meri wrapped an arm around her. For a moment Arya forgot to breathe.
"He couldn't. The direwolves would have ripped him to pieces."
Lady Catelyn shook her head bleakly.
"Ser Rodrik thinks he must have killed them first. I should have been there. I thought the direwolves would keep them safe..."
Nymeria nuzzled at her leg. Numbly Arya pet the direwolf's fur, her ears pounding like she was underwater. Suddenly Nymeria nipped at Arya's hand, startling her out of her shock. What was that for? Arya snapped. Nymeria whuffed, exasperated. Her fierce girl was being stupid. Her pack brothers were far away, but she could feel them still.
Hope fluttered in Arya's chest, and she hugged the direwolf tight.
"They aren't dead. Nymeria knows, she can feel them. And if their direwolves are alive, Bran and Rickon must be alive too!"
Lady Catelyn stared at Nymeria, then stretched out her hand. The direwolf nuzzled her snout against the scarred palm.
"Ser Rodrik was wrong ," Arya insisted. "Nymeria knew when Lady was slain, she did. Theon must have lied, he never found them."
"How I wish I could believe that," her mother said softly.
Arya wanted to scream and run away as seamstresses surrounded her. Lady Catelyn had ordered her measurements taken for new garments, and Arya couldn't stop fidgeting, despite the hurt look in her mother's eyes.
When they were finished poking and prodding at her the seamstresses consulted with Lady Catelyn. They spoke in quiet voices, occasionally casting disapproving glances back at Arya as Lady Catelyn shook her head. Already Arya was disappointing her mother.
She could not return to Lord Beric. The outlaws had left in the morning, bearing the ransom Edmure had grudgingly paid. To her surprise, Lord Beric's squire had remained. Edric was Dornish, and lord of some keep even though he was twelve. He wanted to stay with Lord Beric, but he was going to be sent home. Lady Catelyn had found proper garments for him to wear, and the little lordling had waved farewell to a smiling Lord Beric and a scowling Gendry.
After checking that Lady Catelyn was still busy with the seamstresses, Arya drew the dagger Gendry had given her. It fit perfectly in her hand, the crossguard shaped like two snarling wolf's heads. You could make swords at Riverrun, she'd told him long ago. Then come north to Winterfell. Mikken was a good smith, he made Needle. You could be his apprentice. He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't said no, either. She'd thought he was going to stay...
Arya took out her whetstone, willing away the tears. She wouldn't cry over some stupid apprentice smith. She'd be fine without him. Arya had her mother, and Jeyne, and Meri, and Robb would be back as soon as he thrashed the Lannisters. Then they'd find Sansa, and Bran, and Rickon, and go home to Winterfell.
Slowly Arya drew the blade against the whetstone with long, smooth strokes like Syrio had taught her. She'd miss sparring with Gendry. If she was lucky maybe Edric would agree to spar with her, since he was Dornish.
The squire had served as her nursemaid when when she was ill, helping Thoros by dabbing the sweat from her brow, bringing her water, and pouring the red priest's awful concoctions down her throat. He was friendly enough, but Edric wasn't Gendry. Gendry had helped her find Sansa, he'd carried her back from Rushing Falls. And he'd left her, with no farewell but a promise to have Thoros watch for her in the flames.
Arya was so deep in her thoughts that she barely noticed when a maester came and fetched her mother away. The seamstresses left soon after, muttering about doublets and tunics and surcoats. Were they making clothes for Edric too? They must be.
Everyone was getting new clothes. Jeyne and Meri were thrilled with the gowns found for them. Lady Catelyn had put them in the charge of a septa, and even now they were doing needlework in Jeyne's chambers. Jeyne was already embroidering a new handkerchief with weirwood leaves for Sansa. As for Meri, the septa was continuing the lady's maid lessons that Sansa had begun. Only Arya knew that Meri snuck down to the yard after meals to visit with the cows of the smallfolk.
Nymeria was confined to the godswood. She'd wandered the keep after breakfast, and quickly caused a commotion when she backed an old knight into a corner, snarling. Apparently the knight was related to Robb's new bride.
Robb's too young to be married, Arya thought as she sheathed her dagger. Lady Catelyn had explained it all very quickly this morning over boiled eggs and fried fish. Robb had married some Westerlands girl when he was supposed to marry a Frey, so her uncle and Arya would be marrying Freys in his place.
"We won't leave you behind," Lady Catelyn had promised, seeing Arya's face turn mutinous. "Elmar can come north to Winterfell; we're already fostering two of his cousins. When you come of age Robb will give you a keep near the Gift, and you'll never leave the north unless you want to." Robb needs alliances to win the war , Sansa's voice echoed. This is how we can help Robb avenge father.
With a sigh Arya left the chambers, Needle at her hip. A knight with the blue towers of House Frey on his tunic was guarding the door, and he agreed to show her the way to the godswood. "Your mother has commanded that you be escorted at all times," the knight explained as they walked down the spiraling stairs.
The godswood was very pretty, full of birds and autumn flowers. Arya had feared that the knight would hover, but instead he took up a post near the entrance to the godswood. Using Needle in a gown was quite different, and it took ages before Arya stopped tripping over her skirts. Then she ran through her forms, over and over again, sweat dripping down her face, muscles screaming.
She would not fail her sister again.
