What was long lost

Arya

The feast went on and on. One by one, people came and kissed her hand and called her Lady. Arya's brow raised at this but she didn't say anything. At her left, she felt Jon chuckle lightly. She stomped her foot on his and he winced.

"What was that for?" He asked, rubbing his foot with his hand.

"Nothing, stupid," she said and he grinned at her again.

Sansa was seated to her right and Rickon to hers. Arya saw Theon Greyjoy approach their table. She got alert and put her hand on her sword.

"No," said Jon, putting his hand over hers and stopping her.

Arya looked surprised at Jon and shook her head,

"He betrayed Robb, Jon. He betrayed Winterfell. Why are you all fraternizing with him?" Her voice was low but seething with anger.

"He's changed, Arya," Jon said calmly, "he's not bad anymore. He helped us get all of this back."

Arya let out a low growl and dropped her hand from her sword.

"You better tell me everything," she said, calming just a bit.

"I will."

After three or four hours, the people finally started going away. Arya was too tired by the time all of them retired to their chambers. Sansa and she started walking to hers.

"I have tried my best but I am afraid they could not restore your room to what it was exactly, although it is much the same."

"My room?" Arya asked surprised.

"Yes, the one you stayed in before...," Sansa's voice faded away.

Arya put her hand on her sister's and squeezed it.

"Thank you for everything, Sansa," she said, "you have done too much."

"I am happy you are finally home again."

They reached the door to her room and Arya pushed it. The room surely was much similar to the one she had occupied back when she was younger.

"Do you like it?" Sansa asked hopefully.

Arya nodded. They both embraced each other and bade a good night. Arya entered the room and closed the door behind her. There were clothes on the bed, lots of dresses. Arya hunched up her nose and threw the dresses on a chair. 'Sansa,' she sighed. She looked at her own clothes, which were a ragged skirt and tunic. 'I am going to have to do a lot of work,' she thought. She searched for something loose to wear and found a shift in the middle of the heap of clothes. She changed quickly and got into the bed, her eyes closing on their own accord.

"Who are you?"

"No one."

"No, you are not. You're Arya Stark. Of Winterfell."

"I tried to be. I can't. Everything's changed."

"You left on your own free will."

"I was stupid. I shouldn't have."

"No, you shouldn't have."

The girl ran faster and faster. It was snowing and the cold hit her face, but she kept running. Finally she came across it. The Weirwood tree. It was the same except the face was different. It seemed much younger, much... familiar. Suddenly the girl heard a voice,

"Arya." It was a whisper but somehow she had heard it very clearly. The girl looked at the Weirwood face and suddenly it moved. Not very much, only that she noticed.

"Arya," it said again.

"I am not Arya. I used to be her, I am not anymore," the girl murmured, pain evident in her voice.

"You think you have... sinned... but all men sin... and though there... are many... love is not... one of them," the voice said slowly, "what do... you... feel in your... heart... Arya?"

"I love him. I know he is mine, but..." her voice cracked, "can I give him all of me? Even the worst parts?"

"He already... has... every part... of... you."

Arya woke up with a start. Her head felt like it had been smashed with a hammer. She held it between her hands and groaned. She tossed and turned in the bed, but after the strange dream, sleep didn't seem so eager to come. She got up and draped a cloak around her, and opened her door slowly and walked down to the outside. The air was cold. It looked like it was going to snow soon. Arya walked to the Godswood. The place was silent, other than the sounds of her own breathing and the occasional rustling of leaves. She went to the Weirwood tree and stared at it. The Starks had always worshiped the Old Gods. Her father had always spent solitary time in the Godswood, either working with Ice or just sitting near the lake.

"Can't sleep?" A voice said from behind her. Arya started and turned quickly, ready to fight if it was an enemy. But she saw it was far from it.

"No. I had a dream and couldn't fall asleep again," she said.

"Well, at least I got company now," Jon said smiling.

"And why are you awake?" She asked walking towards him.

"Ghost started growling and I had to open the doors to let him out,"

"He sleeps in your room?"

"Sometimes, yes," he said. They were close now. "Aren't you cold?" He said looking at the loose shift she was wearing.

"No, I am a direwolf, remember?" She smirked.

He laughed lightly.

"Jon?"

"Hmm?'

"Who is your mother?" Arya had almost forgotten the reason she had returned. The mention of Jon and his mother had brought her back, and she needed to know if he had found out who his mother was after all these years.

Jon hesitated a little, but said,

"Lyanna Stark."

Arya let out a gasp. Her aunt was his mother? But how?

"Our father...," she said shockingly, "did he..."

"No, no, no! Gods, Arya. No!" Jon shook his head at her, "it's not like that. Eddard Stark was not my father."

"Then who?" Her voice was rising.

"Rhaeger Targaryen," Jon said. Arya jaw dropped. Jon a Targaryen? Bloody hells! Her hand went to her mouth.

"Not what you were expecting, right?" He said, trying to smile.

"But how, Jon?" She asked rather loudly.

Jon sighed and told her everything. About the tourney, about how Rhaegar took Lyanna, how they fell in love and she bore him a son. Arya stayed still and listened. He told her about Daenerys, about his half-brother Aegon, about how he'd come to know about them during the war, and how he rode Rhaegal.

"My father was so good at lying, wasn't he?" Arya said, "And all these years. If only we had known. If mother had known, she never would have treated you the way she did."

Jon smiled sadly. She probably shouldn't have said that, Arya thought.

"But what is gone is gone," she said again, "it's never good to linger too much in the past."

Jon nodded. There was silence for a few minutes, then Jon asked her,

"Where were you, Arya?"

The question had finally surfaced. Arya had thought about what she'd say when they asked her this. She could lie, she was good at it. 'Can I lie to him, though?' She thought.

"I cannot tell you, Jon," she said softly.

"Arya...," he took her hand made circles on the back of it with his thumb, "you know I'd never judge you."

No, he won't. But could she tell him all of it? All that she'd done? About the people she'd been, the ones she'd killed. Would Jon still hold her hand like that if he knew how many throats it slit and how many people's blood were on it?

Jon waited patiently while Arya gathered her thoughts.

"I cannot tell you now. I promise I will, just not today," she said.

Jon took both of her hands and kissed them, making Arya shiver involuntarily.

"Whenever you're ready," he said, "I'll be here to listen."

The snow started falling and both of them made their way inside the castle.

Jon's room was further away than Arya's so when they reached hers, he opened the door for her to get in.

"Thank you for telling me, Jon," she said.

He smiled and brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it slowly. Arya leaned a little into his touch. He stared at her and slowly leaned in, bringing his lips close to her face. He kissed her right cheek, and smiled at her again and turned to go. As she closed the door behind her, Arya let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her heart beat loudly and quickly. Arya wrapped her arms around herself and fell on the bed, her heartbeat returning to normal only when she started to fall asleep.

When she woke up, it was still snowing outside. Staying in Braavos she had always woke up to bright sunshine, and the cold made her feel grateful she was home. She got up and dressed herself, wearing a dress which was not so ladylike like the others. She decided to tell Sansa to give her some breeches. She couldn't wear these dresses forever. Just as she finished dressing, a knock sounded on her door.

"Arya?" Sansa's voice came.

"Come in," she replied.

Sansa entered, and beamed at Arya.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Arya remembered what happened the night before, "I did."

"Good," Sansa grinned.

"Is everyone up already?"

"Yes. Rickon's practicing in the grounds with Theon and Jon. They were planning to go riding."

"Oh!" Arya exclaimed, "I must go with them!"

Sansa's smile faltered.

"You'll go riding? With the men?"

"What else?" Arya replied enthusiastically, "though I hope I don't end up murdering Theon."

"Do you think that is appropriate, Arya?" Sansa said worriedly, "ladies aren't supposed to..."

Arya cut her off.

"Sansa, please...," Arya said, gently holding her sister's hands, "I am hardly a lady, you know that."

Sansa sighed.

"Alright," she smiled, "As you like, wolf."

She turned to go but Arya stopped her.

"Sansa, wait!"

"Yes?" She asked.

"Do you have any breeches? I can't wear this," she said pointing to her dress.

Sansa shook her head,

"I'll tell the maids."

Arya grinned at her sister. After a maid brought the clothes, she wore them and picked up Needle and ran down to the grounds.

Steel clashed steel as Rickon and Theon plunged at each other. Arya saw Jon standing at the side and walked up to him. He eyed her carefully and grinned,

"Sansa let you wear that?"

"Yes, she did," Arya said rolling her eyes, "she said you all are going hunting. I'm coming too."

Jon looked surprised but shook his head.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

Arya groaned.

"Yes, I'll go and you'll take me," she said defiantly, "Rickon isn't going to deny me and I'll cut Theon's throat if he tries to argue with me about anything at all."

"Arya, it's dangerous," Jon said, "didn't you know how Robert Baratheon died trying to hunt a boar?"

"Robert Baratheon was fat and stupid. I know how to hunt, Jon," she said.

"Oh really? And how many things have you killed?" He said smirking.

Arya's face changed to one without expression. She replied with a hard voice,

"More than I should."

Jon's smile vanished at her words and he looked at her face,

"Arya?"

She opened her mouth to say something when a man shouted,

"Milords!"

Theon and Rickon stopped practising and Jon and Arya turned to look at the man running towards them.

"Milords!"

Jon went to the man and asked him what was the matter.

"There is someone near the woods, Milord. I saw him...," he panted, "One minute he was someone, the next he looked like another man. Some kind of spell, Milord.

Arya's eyes widened ran where the man was pointing.

"Arya!" Jon's voice called behind her, but she kept running. A Faceless Man, it is a Faceless Man.

She kept running. Jon, Theon and Rickon had reached her and all of them stopped as they saw a man emerge from behind a tree.

Arya's throat felt dry. She took a step backwards and gripped Needle tightly. 'No!' She said in her head over and over again, 'No! No! No!'

The man was dressed in a torn tunic and breeches. His left eye looked bruised and blood oozed out of his arm. He started walking towards them and Jon and Theon unsheathed their swords.

"No!" Arya shouted and came before them. She blocked their way.

"Arya, get out of the way!" Jon shouted at her.

"No, Jon, you won't hurt him," she said.

"You know this man?" Theon asked.

"Yes," she said quickly. She looked at the man standing in front of them, his red and white hair almost fully covered with blood, "I know him. He is my friend."

"Friend?" Jon asked.

"Yes. His name is Jaqen."