A pack for us (Arya VI)

A pack for us
Arya VI

Arya stood outside her childhood bedroom frozen with fear. Breath shaky and unsure. How would it have changed under Bolton rule? _You are a Stark of Winterfell. A faceless man of Bravos. You do not fear a child's room. _With new found confidence Arya openned her bedroom door.

After so many years away she thought she'd remembered it wrong. But no. It was so small. Her bed neat and tidy if not a little dusty. Her drawers as empty as the day she packed for Kings Landing. One curtain ripped down piled on the floor. Letting the last sun of the day trickle in.

Arya approached the window and stared out. She'd forgotten how beautiful this view was. She could picture clearly watching Robb and Theon practice with wooden swords. Bran and Rickon chase cats, chickens or anything slow enough for them to catch. She could picture Jon brooding from the stairs, Ghost silently standing at his side. Those days were long gone...

The Starks lie broken the sons slain or broken. The father and mother betrayed. The sisters playing there own game. The castle left to a bastard...

Not that Arya minded. She always knew Jon would be a lord. She just wished it was in happier circumstances... Even the wall couldn't stop her brother.

Arya watched the sunset for what felt like hours until it was smothered by the snow tipped stone walls.

The stars were beautiful tonight.

Bright and mysterious they played there games. She tried to find the constellations her mother had tought her so many moons ago. She was the galley, the ghost and the king's crown sat awkwardly atop the pale moon.

A lone howl echoed from the courtyard...

Odd...

Ghost hardly ever howled...

The howl reminded her of Nymeria. She thought of Ghost the last direwolf left. Arya wondered if the wolf even realized his siblings were dead. That he was likely the last of his kind south of the wall. The thought made her sad. But hopefully. One day the wolf will find a new pack of his own...

With one final sigh she turned in her chambers. The room was dark and cold. But in the darkness stood a figure.

Arya grasped for needle.

"Step into the light or I'll kill you where you stand!" Arya barked at the figure.

The shadow raised his hands and stepped forward. It's broad shoulders covered in a huge black cloak. The shinning long sword at his waist. Black hair rough and snowfilled.

Eyes blood shot and frozen tears stuck to his face.

"Jon?" Arya lowered needle and approached with her guard lowered. "Are you alright brother?"

Arya reached for his gloved hand but he pulled back.

"Arya" he said coarsely "there's something you need to know. I'm not your brother."

Arya cocked her head. "I know we aren't real siblings Jon. Don't think anyone has forgotten your a bastard. No matter how far you run your name will follow you." She reflected on Bravos and the faceless men.

She was someone.

"No Arya" Jon said shaking his head. " I'm not a bastard... I'm I'm..."

He paused and looked deep into Arya's eyes.

"I'm your cousin. I'm Lyanna's son. I am a Targaryen. I am of old Valaria and the First Men. I am the wolf and the dragon. I am the rightful heir of this realm." His eyes continued to stare through her.

"Ok" Arya answered quietly. Unsure what else to say. "I believe you Jon."

Jon smiled the warm loving smile he used to give her. Arya felt a heat between her legs. Like an itch she couldn't scratch. The wider his smile grew the hotter she became. The heat traced up her body to her cheeks. Before Jon could notice she jumped into his arms and hugged him.

"Nothing has changed Jon"

Everything had changed...

(Hello. Sorry for the absence I've been doing jury duty and still am. It's rather... Emotional so I don't often feel like writing but I'm trying to get back into it. Anyway enjoy!)