Chapter 14: Ugh, not again!

The third week of the Seventh month of the year 297 a.c

Winterfell

Kyria Stark

She had been curled around Frost for a while when a knock pulled her out of the emptiness of her mind. She looked over her shoulder as the door opened to Robb's contrite face, and curled back around her pup.

Greywind whined and padded around on the floor.

"Kyria... "

"Go away, Robb." She was not in the mood for this. She wanted to be left alone.

Robb sat at her feet, Frost looking up and sniffing him curiously. "Kyria… don't you think this has gone on long enough?"

"What?"

"This thing… with you and Arya. This tension, these fights, don't you think it's enough?"

That was all it took. "How am I responsible for Arya's tantrums?! She was absolutely beastly to me and I did nothing to deserve it!"

Robb sighed.

Kyris glared at him. "You know, I think you should leave. If the only reason you came was to criticize me, you're not needed."

"That's not why I'm here. I just think you two need to talk. Actually talk to each other, not scream. Find out what's wrong. What happened that made her resent you so much."

"Is this a joke?" It had to be a joke. "After what happened, you want me to be the one to take a step in Arya's direction?" She'd never insulted Arya like that!

"You should at least try, sister."

What?! She turned so fast, her entire body bounced off of the bed for a moment, making Robb jerk back for fear of being struck. "As if I haven't?! It's been months, Robb! You said it yourself! I tried to talk to her! I did! Time and time again! She's the one who doesn't want to listen to me! Haven't I done enough?!"

Robb sighed. "What if I promise you this time will be different?"

"And how, pray tell, would you be able to make such a promise?"

"You only need to know that I can. Would you follow me then?"

"How?" she asked again.

"Let me worry about that part."

She huffed. He could simply tell her, honestly! "This is suspicious."

"I know," he agreed, not seeming to care that much about it. "Trust me anyway, sister." He took her hand, and all but physically dragged her out of her bed and Frost's warmth. Any other protests were promptly ignored as he guided her through the main keep.

Annoyed but resigned, Kyria let him. Whose idea was it to make the Starks so stubborn?

They walked through one of the corridors with a larger window, the one oriented South to catch as much light as possible. There weren't that many really large windows in Winterfell, since having those was a bad idea in a castle, especially in a place that could become as cold as Winterfell. To be perfectly honest she didn't know why there was any large window in Winterfell. It sounded like an unnecessary expense. Maybe they only looked larger? Maybe they were merely shaped differently. Who knew? The castle was so old she wasn't even sure anyone had the answer.

She was still pondering when Robb pushed her into one of the smaller, rarely occupied rooms of the Main Keep. A simple solar with tables and a single daybed she suspected might have been recently added to the furniture. Grandfather maybe. It was barely used nowadays and she only knew of it because of the hours of exploration she did when she first woke up.

Sansa sat on the daybed, looking as uncomfortable as she could while wrapped in her impeccable manners. Uncle Benjen stood near her, and Kyria suspected he might have been the one to bring her there. On the other side of the room, Jon had Arya by the arm, and she was clearly jerking at it in an attempt to escape his grip and run off.

Before Kyria finished taking that all in, Robb closed the door behind them and leaned back against it.

She felt oddly trapped. "What are you doing?"

"You girls need to talk," Benjen said firmly.

"What?"

"We all agreed, Kyria. This can't continue. There is something going on between you three and it needs to be discussed," added Robb with a solemnity she hadn't known he had in him.

She really shouldn't have been surprised. "And you decided to lock us up until... what? We yell at each other? One of us caves and begs for release?"

"I don't want to!" Arya protested immediately, jerking her arm. "Let go of me! Jon!"

"No," he said, quiet but firm.

"Uncle Benjen, I don't want to talk to her," announced Sansa tearfully, tone making it clear which 'her' she was talking about. "She'll just ruin everything; she always does!"

"This is not a suggestion. You are going to stay in this room, and you are going to talk."

Uncle Benjen's booming voice silenced any other protests they might have had.

Kyria sighed and sat next to Sansa, resigned to her fate. It wasn't as thought they could escape–Robb was blocking the door bodily, and there was no other exit. The men could keep them here as long as they liked, and there quite frankly wasn't a thing they could do about it. So they might as well get it over with.

Benjen turned to look at Arya, who was still struggling.

"Arya."

The little girl stopped, her scowl turning to a pout as she glared at her uncle.

Kyria watched the staring contest curiously, almost eager to see who would win the battle of wills. Which one would blink first? Who would submit to the other? Nothing less than a clear loss would make Arya obey anyone or anything.

Benjen won.

Arya growled, blinking rapidly as she turned her head away and Jon pushed her into one of the chairs. She tried to step on his foot and missed. Ghost tried to playfully grab her feet, convinced this was all a game, and almost tripped her.

Benjen allowed a moment of silence to settle between them, watching over them like a hawk.

"Now, I understand you don't get along. But the scene earlier in the yard can not happen again. This is unacceptable. Had you been in the Watch I would have dragged you three back in the yard and beat you senseless if that was what it took for you to calm down and clear the air between you."

...Brutal.

None of them answered.

Benjen didn't seem bothered, though Jon looked slightly green for some reason.

"Jon and Robb are going to leave the room. I will lock it behind them and none of you will leave until you have talked. Properly."

Oh, by the gods.

"Uncle Benjen-"

"No discussion."

With a nod of Benjen's head, Robb and Jon left the room.

Silence.

Kyria refused to be the first to talk, no longer willing to be the one taking the first step. Not anymore. She wasn't in the wrong, and she refused to cower or cave because little Arya had a temper tantrum, or Sansa was shedding lady's tears.

The silence lasted and lasted and lasted. Longer than she expected to have the patience for. After maybe half an hour, Benjen talked again.

"I can keep you here all day. And I will if necessary."

"You can't!" protested Sansa.

"I can. Robb was told to warn your parents of what happens if you don't come out of this room by supper. You will remain inside this room as long as it takes for one of you to finally talk to the others."

"I don't want to talk," mumbled Arya.

Oh surprise. Kyria scoffed. "You never want to talk anyway."

Arya glared.

Kyria did the same. She was not afraid of a child acting like a toddler.

"And I'm afraid I am not giving you a choice," commented Benjen calmly.

Part of Kyria admired him for his tranquility. Did he learn to be like that at the Wall? It made her wonder what would become of Jon once he went there.

With a sigh, and despite her reservations Kyria, forced herself to talk first. No wounded pride was worth being stuck here all day and night, bored to tears and with only her sisters and Benjen for company. "Why don't you want to talk to me, then?" she asked, more than a little testily. "What have I done to you?" She'd tried to keep her voice as calm as possible, unwilling to show how hurt she'd been by Arya's explosion before, but there was only so much she could do.

It didn't seem to matter, since Arya just stubbornly crossed her arms and looked away.

Sansa, however, followed Kyria's example, no doubt just as thrilled by the idea of a lockdown as she was. "Why do you have to spoil everything all the time, Arya?" she asked, a faint resentfulness belying her otherwise polite tone.

Now that got a reaction. "I spoil everything? Liar! You're the one that always tries to spoil my fun! Because you can't stand to have someone doing anything else besides your boring lady stuff!"

Sansa stiffened, offended. "That's not true!"

"It is! As soon as I start having fun, you whine to Septa Mordane or Mother just to get me in trouble!"

"I do not! It's not my fault you always do the wrong thing! Playing the little boy, as if you could ever be one! You're a girl! A lady! Why should you have the right to do as you please when Kyria and I have to stand by the rules?! You're doing it on purpose, because you can't stand to be awful at everything!"

"You're the one who's awful! You always are!" Arya screamed right back, leaping to her feet. "Following Septa and Mother and their rules! Those rules are stupid! Why should I listen to you or that boring Septa? It's not fair! Bran and Robb and Jon get to do what they want while I'm stuck with stupid girls doing stupid shit!"

"Shut up!" Sansa shrieked back, face reddening with anger, "Stop talking to me like that! You're just spoiled because you always get your way!"

Oh for the gods sake! Kyria was going to have to interfere after all. "Life is not fair, Arya," she groaned, exasperated. "Bran Rickon and Jon are boys. You're a girl, like us. If we have to follow the rules society forces on us, you do too."

"Shut up! Everyone lets you do what you want because of your stupid head!"

"Arya!" Sansa gasped.

Alright, that was enough. "Well my 'stupid head' is why I can tell you life isn't fair!" Kyria snapped back, shocking Arya into sitting back down again. "Do you think I enjoy it? Having this hole in my life that will never be filled?! Being left out of every childhood memory you lot share?! Of all the things that should be familiar to me? Do you think I enjoy not knowing what was my life before that stupid accident?!"

"Of course not!" Arya said, nearly screeching. "I know!"

"Then why do you blame me for it?! Why do you blame me for how others act because of it? It's not my fault I fell from that stupid tree!"

"NO, IT'S MINE!"

...what?

To the complete astonishment of the entire room, Arya burst into loud, ugly sobs, tears covering her face and puffing her eyes quicker than Kyria had ever thought possible. "It's me that made you climb that tree! I asked you to do it because I stole Sansa's scarf and the wind blew it into the tree! It's my fault you fell and hurt your head! And now you don't remember anything and you never will and it's all my fault!" she sobbed.

Seriously, what?

Benjen pushed himself back into his seat, an odd glint in his eye. He remained silent, obviously letting the whole thing play out.

Kyria was speechless. What in Seven Hells- The gods cannot possibly be serious!

Next to her, Sansa seemed just as surprised, flinching back from her sister's ugly tears, fingers clenching on the ends of her sleeves.

Was it- Had Arya felt guilty this whole time? Was this the reason why she was so awful? But why- It- but- That didn't even make sense! How- She might not remember the whole thing, but by the Seven Hells, it wasn't as if Arya could command the wind! No one would have predicted that outcome!

Glued to her seat, Kyria shared an astonished look with Sansa, who seemed just as lost as she was, if not moreso.

"And it's not fair," Arya choked out, blind to her sisters' confusion, "It's not fair that you get hurt and you have nightmares and you're sick and depressed all the time because of me. And now everything is changing and it's all my fault. I just want things to go back to how they were before!"

Annoyance sparked in Kyria's chest. A fine way you have of showing it!

Kyria was speechless, as the rest of whatever Arya might have wished to say was drowned in an abundance of tears and snot. Were all ten-year-olds this ridiculous? Had she been this ridiculous when she was ten? She couldn't possibly have been so self-centered, could she, thinking her choices were the only ones that mattered?

Benjen twitched his head a little, a tiny jerk in Arya's direction, eyes wide and more than a little panicked at the sound of a young girl's tears.

Kyria stared at him, flabbergasted. He- he couldn't possibly want her to- did he mean for her to comfort-

What, did he expect her to hug Arya now? To make it all better, as if the months of tantrums and cruel words had never happened? Because she cried, and felt guilty, that meant that the things she'd said and done, the hurt she'd inflicted on Kyria, no longer mattered?

Kyria's lips pressed into a thin, furious line. As if I would!

No matter what happens between you and them, they are your siblings.

Maybe you should show them the brave girl I know you are.

Kyria shook her head. No. She didn't want to do that. No matter what Father said. Bravery had nothing to do with it, nor did pride! It was a matter of principle. Arya was the one in the wrong, attacking everyone for no other reason than being unable to deal with her guilt, ridiculous as that was. If Arya was old enough to lash out at Kyria for something that wasn't her fault, then she was old enough to deal with the consequences of what she herself had done!

Sansa shifted awkwardly beside her, and Kyria deliberately looked away from her youngest sister and her uncle, to see what Sansa wanted.

She was holding out a handkerchief. Fine linen, well-embroidered by Sansa's skilled hands.

Oh. Oh, of course. Of course the 'perfect lady' would know how she was supposed to deal with a fellow distraught lady. But why was she holding it out to Kyria? Arya was the one making a mess over on her chair-

Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no.

When Kyria looked up from the handkerchief to Sansa's face, however, she saw her sister staring at her wide-eyed and pleading, the picture of maidenly distress.

…oh, fine. Biting back a sigh, Kyria took the handkerchief and stood up, deliberately rolling her eyes so Sansa would know exactly what she felt about being forced to do the emotional labor again. Why must it always be me? Benjen was there too, and he was a grown man!

A Stark man, and therefore useless in the face of an emotional lady. Even a bratty child of a lady like Arya.

Stepping forward, she stuck the handkerchief under Arya's nose. "Here," she said, tone as gentle as she could manage at the moment. "You do know it wasn't your fault, I hope."

"What?" The word came out clogged and heavy, and Arya blinked up at her through red and swollen eyes.

"My fall from the tree. It wasn't your fault."

"But I- I- asked-"

"Yes, you asked me to climb the tree. And I chose to do so-in wool skirts and petticoats, I might add. You couldn't have known I would fall, nor could you have stopped it. It wasn't your fault."

"That's not true! If I hadn't-" She burst into sobs again, cutting her sentence short with an ugly moan that tore a part of Kyria's heart.

Kyria's hands clenched in the front of her skirts, heart lurching with each new sob. Part of her wanted to believe that Arya was faking it, or forcing herself to cry, trying to garner sympathy, to act as if she were the victim here, so that guilt would force them all to overlook her faults and transgressions. But it didn't feel forced. And even if it were… No matter how hurt she was, that was her little sister bawling her eyes out in front of her. Her little sister, awful as she could be.

Kyria took a deep breath, and looked at Sansa over her shoulder.

Sansa just stared back at her, face flashing through different, conflicting emotions. She was leaning forward, as though wanting to do something, to act, but she didn't move. "Kyria…" she pleaded between her teeth, almost a whine.

"Don't look at me like that, Sansa," Kyria hissed, too quietly for Arya to hear over her wracking sobs. "I am not the only older sister here!"

Sansa looked down, worrying her sleeve-ends again, shame bending her shoulders into an unladylike hunch.

Kyria refused to feel bad for her.

Maybe you should show them the brave girl I know you are.

…Why did she have to be the one to act?! It wasn't fair! And this wasn't bravery, it was… was… was being the adult in the room! Wasn't that what Benjen was for? He could hug Arya, if that was what he thought best! He hadn't been yelled at and abused by her for the past several months!

A thick, wheezing breath, as Arya choked briefly on her tears, coughing hard enough that it had to hurt, and her face would have gone red if it weren't already.

Kyria looked at Sansa one last time, but she still had her head down, hands folded demurely in her lap.

Of course.

Why me?! Kyria asked one last time, and then gave in to the inevitable. "Arya…" she sighed, deliberately talking over a fresh burst of sobs. "You're so… arrogant."

"W-what?" The words had shocked her out of her sobs, and a faint spark of anger lit her watery eyes.

"Listen to me," Kyria said, firm and not especially gentle, but not too harsh, she hoped. "Just listen. Do you think you are responsible for everything I choose to do? No? Then you aren't responsible for my fall, either. What is done is done. Whoever was responsible for what happened to me, it doesn't matter anymore. The facts remain the same. I will not go back to who I was before. I've accepted that. So have Father, and Robb, and Jon. You need to do the same. I have accepted what I am and what happened. I can even forgive you if you need it. But know that I don't blame you. It was not your fault."

Arya shook her head, turning away, hair made unkempt by all that had happened falling forward to hide her face.

Stubborn as any Stark.

"Arya, look at me," Kyria said, reaching forward with one hand to turn her sister's face towards her, and ignoring the way Benjen had shuffled a step back to let her deal with things alone. She was tired of his insistent eyes nudging her to comfort her sister. She refused to do it! She would reason with her sister instead, even if it seemed far more difficult of a challenge. Nearly an impossible one.

Gods, she hoped it wasn't an impossible one, because she was so very not going to comfort the selfish brat.

"Arya," she repeated firmly, "my head is not your fault."

She tried to jerk away, but Kyria forced her to turn back again.

"Stop that. Listen. You are not responsible for my head. I don't hold you responsible. Nobody does but you."

"No. I-"

"Shut up, Arya," Kyria snapped, exasperated, and then sighed and shook her head. "This is my life, my accident, my situation. You can't make it about you."

Arya opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she wrenched her face out of Kyria's hand, scrubbing away the remains of her tears.

"Do you understand?" Kyria asked, putting just a bit of archness in her tone, the way she would when Robb was being stubborn about studying something he really ought to.

Silence. Then Arya nodded.

"Good," Kyria said briskly. "That said, you are responsible for being so hateful to me earlier, and I would like an apology."

Once again Arya opened her mouth, ready to say the first thing she could think of, no doubt. But then something made her pause, and she seemed to actually think.

Kyria quickly hid the surprise blooming on her face. Now was not the time to start another fight because Arya's fragile pride was wounded.

And while Arya thought, Kyria realized that she, standing, was looking down at her sister's hunched frame. Has she always been this small? And why had she only noticed it now? Because Arya was actually being quiet for once?

A shuffle from behind Arya drew Kyria's eyes, and she saw Benjen nodding insistently at her sister again, eyes almost bugging out of his head. Did he really want her to hug her sister so badly, or was he just panicking, still? Confusing man.

"I- I didn't think I was so awful," confessed Arya after a full minute of silence.

Excuse me?!

"I was just- so angry! All the time and- I- I didn't know what to do with all of it so I-"

"That's no excuse to lash out at the people around you," Kyria interrupted, refusing to let Arya make excuses. She didn't want excuses; she wanted Arya to admit the wrongs she had done, to her and by extension to the entire household. She wanted Arya to truly understand the consequences of her actions.

"I- I was stupid."

Oh?

Arya scrunched her head down further between her shoulders. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Kyria. I- I feel really bad about it."

There we go, finally! Kyria sighed, and rubbed the relief from her face.

Arya looked up, then back down again, more shy than Kyria had ever seen her before. Her eyes were pleading for something she would not say aloud… Not that it was hard to guess. And if she was perfectly honest with herself, Kyria would admit that she might need that hug too, after what felt like hours of battling Stark stubbornness and entirely too many volatile emotions.

Arya inched closer, head low and eyes big, hands out in a tentative, silent request to be held and comforted.

Oh, fine. With Benjen all but waving for her to do it, and Arya being the one who took the first steps, clumsy as they were, Kyria gave in and opened her arms to her youngest sister with a heavy sigh.

"Oof!" She stumbled back a step when Arya practically leapt at the invitation, throwing herself into Kyria's arms and knocking her back to sit abruptly down on the daybed next to Sansa.

She'd never really realized before how small Arya really was. How young. It was no excuse for her behavior, of course, but it did help Kyria understand where she was coming from, just a little bit. After all, it wasn't like she was the best at dealing with her emotions either, and she literally couldn't fathom what it must be like to carry such guilt at such a young age.

Adults say they remember what they were like at our ages. Do they, really? Or do they only think they do? She knew she didn't remember being a true child, and… if Arya was any indication, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Silence fell in the room. Kyria leaned back against the daybed, loosely holding Arya against her. One sister down, one to go.

TBC.