A queen's retrospective
Cersei was not weak.
Where other women were afraid and meek, she was tempered and bold. As such, when a little trifling nightmare attacked her before getting a public confession from the 'Honorable Ned Stark', she ignored it.
She had won. She outwitted the dull northman and was about to reclaim what should've been hers from the start. She'd rule.
It all went wrong the moment Joffrey ordered Ser Ilyn to execute the traitor.
She tried to change her son's mind, to make him understand the benefits of keeping Eddard Stark alive. The High Septon and the eunuch tried the same. But Jofffrey didn't budge.
Her son had the countenance of a king. A king is strong. A king is never easy to cow. Just like a lion, a king does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep.
It just so happened that the virtues she nurtured for the king of the Seven Kingdoms, made him into a strong willed young man set on his ways once decided.
In Cersei's mind, it was a ultimately good virtue for a king. The issue was that Joffrey wasn't a man proper just yet, her son had to learn to listen to good advice, her advice.
The moment Eddard's head fell, she knew war with the North was inevitable.
She wasn't worried too much of the savages in the North, however. The lordship fell unto the lap of the untested firstborn of Eddard. Robb Stark would face her father and brother in battle, the war was as good as won.
Now, if only that recurring nightmare would just leave her nights in peace. How could Lord Tywin lose to a green boy? How could the powerful army of the Westerlands, an army that shattered the river lords time and time again, end up drowning in the Green Fork?
Were she another weak willed woman, Cersei would not be able to fall asleep or lead her son's council. Thankfully she was not like other women. She was strong, her father's equal in cunning.
###
Cersei woke up from a nightmare the day they got news of her lord father.
"Terrible news, Your Grace" the eunuch said in that irritating tone of his while in the king's council. "Lord Tywin lost his army in the Green Fork. My little birds weren't able to find m—."
"Your little birds are useless then," snapped Littlefinger. He had an alarmed air on him. "Your Grace, my agents told me the Northerners treacherously attacked Lord Tywin's host from behind. Just when his army was closing in to rout young Robb Stark's army."
"As I was saying." Varys turned to her for permission. With a nod, she gave it. "My little birds heard knights from Lord Tywin's camp that they were attacked by Vale knights from the rear."
So it was the Vale knights who won the battle for the Stark cur. It made sense. Her lord father wouldn't lose to a mere boy.
Her increasingly wrathful gaze turned to Littlefinger.
"Lord Baelish," said the old Grand Maester. "You assured this council the Vale wouldn't join the war. In fact, I clearly remember you confidently declaring how the Vale wouldn't dare join the Starks."
"I assure you Grand Maester Pycelle, Your Grace." Baelish bowed in her direction. "The Vale didn't join the Starks. I have Lady Arryn's written assurances in my possession."
She took the letter from Littlefinger's hands. Lysa Arryn had always been shy and meek, Cersei knew she didn't have what it took to lead the Vale lords into a war. But still, how could Lord Tywin have lost if it wasn't fo—
"There's other piece of news, Your Grace. Lord Tyrion was captured in the Green Fork," Littlefinger said.
He should've started with that. It was to be expected from someone so lowborn as Baelish though. Someone like him couldn't understand her lord father the way she did. In fact, she suspected no one in the council could understand what had happened.
"As expected," she said smiling. "It seems to me, we have other important tasks. We'll reconvene on the morrow." She stood, leaving perplexed men on her wake.
Her lord father's cunning had no equal in the realm. He rid their family of their shameful stain and was faking weakness to draw all their enemies out of their hiding in one single move. He was so competent at it that even the Spider was fooled. She couldn't wait to see what other legendary deed Lord Tywin had prepared.
And if the Starks rid her of her twisted little valonqar… mayhaps she could convince Joffrey of a pardon or two.
###
Cersei's days had been delightful since hearing of Tyrion's capture.
The wine was sweeter and the food was tastier. From time to time she even hummed along the songs played at court.
There were a few things Joffrey did that worried her a little. Just a little. Her son was still young, and gods knew young men are rash. She was sure he would outgrow out of his rashness soon enough. Having a strong lord like her lord father and Jaime in court would help him with that.
However, there was a tiny little thing that made her days less than perfect.
Her nights were riddled with dreams of wolves hiding between trees and a lion far in a place where two rivers meet. Whispers in her dreams told her that lion was Jaime, but that couldn't be. Her twin wasn't a craven. Her brave lover would hunt those wolves and skin them himself. That lion was not Jaime, the whispers in her dream were lying to her. They had to be.
With that conclusion, Cersei ignored her dreams for the next days.
###
She was walking in fog. Her hands were clammy and with every breath she felt as if she were inhaling more water than air.
The fog was thick, Cersei couldn't even see a yard in front. The fog hid murmurs from all around her, some harsh, some soft. She heard ravens taking flight, horses in a gallop.
From one moment to the next, the fog cleared and she was sitting in a gigantic hall. The food looked great, the highborn were making merry. She didn't like it, there was no sign of her house anywhere she looked.
The hall fell silent and she listened to the most beautiful song she had ever heard. Frantic, her eyes moved around to find the singer, but all of a sudden, the fog returned.
Her eyes opened and saw a short knight in mismatched armor defeating a Haigh knight. She saw the shield had a laughing white tree. Before she could make sense of what she saw, the fog took away her senses again.
Next thing she knew her dragon prince was winning a joust against a knight with the white cloak of the Kingsguard. Rhaegar then took the crown pale blue rose to crown her. Cersei knew the crown was for her, she was certain, the whispers from beyond the fog told her so.
It was then, the dragon prince rode past her and crowned the northern wench.
Cersei felt a pit in her stomach. Not even in her dreams she could run from a dead girl. It was galling, it was unjust. It was maddening. Would Lyanna's ghost haunt her for eternity?
She stood from her seat, ready to take the crown that was rightfully hers. Make Rhaegar, and Robert, see who was the real queen of love and beauty.
The fog took her away before she could reach Rhaegar.
Cersei's screamed like never before. Pure rage and frustration spewed from her lips.
She raged and raged until her tears dried out. Until her throat was too ragged to utter a sound. Until her hands were bloody from hitting the ground.
And then the fog receded once again.
She was in a river's shore. Far in the distance, men were screaming for their lives and howls all around made the night colder.
The clashing of steel, men cursing and dying terrified her enough to stand. Her shaky legs almost bent before she could take a step. But all her previous rage gave her strength to walk.
The wolves were closing in, she knew. They were getting closer so she found a stick and rocks. Cersei was no craven, if she was to die, even in a stupid dream, she'd do so fighting.
She remembered the lessons she took in her childhood. Back when Jaime and her swapped places at her insistence. Legs wide, hips firm, arms ready.
Then a lion came running to the side, wolves pursuing in laughter. No one paid her attention, and that stung, a lot.
Cersei moved closer to the chase. Even a lonely wolf is fine, she thought. I'll force it to look my way.
She put herself in front of the biggest wolf she saw. She raised her hands, ready for a heavy strike, and then… the wolf passed through her like a ghost.
Cersei woke up with a gasp.
###
She arrived late to the council meeting. She had to have some Arbor red to forget her dreams. Besides, who would dare to call her on her lateness? The eunuch was too much of a coward, Pycelle the doddering old fool would fall sleep waiting for her and Littlefinger knew his place.
Thus, Cersei entered the council room like normal. The only thing out of the ordinary she noticed, was the quick look exchange between Pycelle and Littlefinger.
"Your Grace," said the eunuch. "News arrived from Riverrun."
"Has my brother finally took over the castle? I'm surprised it took him this long. Considering how badly the Tullys control their bannermen."
Varys bowed deeply. "I'm afraid the news are dire, Your Grace. Lord Jaime's host was defeated and Riverrun's siege is no more."
That couldn't be. "Lies," she said. "My brother would not lose to the Stark boy so easily."
There was one thing for Lord Tywin to fake a defeat and patiently wait for their enemies to uncover themselves and defeat them all at once. There was another for Jaime to lose. She knew her brother better than anyone else. He didn't have the patience for scheming, nor the cunning of Lord Tywin. Besides, Jaime was a warrior, he'd always charge sword first to battle. That's why they were perfect for one another. She was the one with the sharp mind for plotting and removing enemies before they were a problem, he was the warrior ready to cut down anything in their way.
"It is as he says, Your Grace," said Pycelle. "The raven came from Pinkmaiden. Survivors from the battle were able to rally there."
No. It couldn't be. She glared at the incompetent men in the table. She could feel her gut burning in rage. How could Jaime have lost? They were all lying to her.
"Mayhaps there's another explanation," Littlefinger said pouring himself a goblet of wine. "Your Grace, how much do you trust Lord Tyrion?"
Nothing at all. "Why should it matter to you?"
"Peace Your Grace," he said raising his hands. "We all know that the Lord Commander is too formidable to lose in the field to an untested boy like Robb Stark. But, what if he was betrayed? What if his plans were laid bare to Robb Stark?"
"No lord under Lord Tywin would dare!" roared Pycelle.
She ignored the old fool, if there was a traitor in the Westerlands, she needed to know.
"Speak clearly Baelish. What are you suggesting?" Cersei asked.
"My apologies, Your Grace," Littlefinger bowed to her. "But I feared being too forward. With Lord Tyrion being captured and the Lord Commander losing immediately after…"
It hit her then. Her hateful and craven valonqar. He must have sold their family to the Starks. There was no other explanation.
She didn't listen to anything else the table said. She kept her inner turmoil hidden. She was a lioness, she couldn't lose herself in a fit of rage in public.
Besides, Cersei understood now. Her dreams were warning her.
###
That night, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms went to bed early.
She steeled her resolve. The last of her dreams let her explore in the fog. She just needed to push a little harder to understand the next warning. She had to. Otherwise, her valonqar would win.
Cersei took the last gulp of wine for the day and went to sleep.
When she opened her eyes, she was in front of Maggy the Frog. She turned away and ran. Just like Jeyne Farman had done.
The forest closed around her on every step. The trees grew darker, the sun grew dimmer. Then, the fog came.
"Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds," the mists whispered.
"Shut up!" she shouted.
"Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds," the mists echoed again.
"No" Cersei braced herself on the ground.
"Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds!"
She was holding her Joff in her arms. He was choking, clawing at his neck. Dying.
"NO!"
"Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds!"
Tommen's head was on a spike.
"No!" She was now with her head on the ground, covering her ears with all her might.
"Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds!"
She was back in the Red Keep. Nursing Myrcella to sleep in her embrace. In the distance, soft music could be heard.
Cersei was terrified, she couldn't move. Something is wrong. I can feel it.
Minutes passed and Myrcella spoke: "Mother, sing me something. Please."
Her throat clammed up. "Myrcella, sweetling. Now is not the time."
"Why mother?" Her daughter tried to get out of her embrace. Cersei hugged her more fiercely.
"What do you mean, my lioness?" Cersei looked around the room. Something is wrong.
Myrcella escaped her arms and turned around. Blood flowed freely from her daughter's eyes.
"GOLD SHALL BE THEIR CROWNS, AND GOLD THEIR SHROUDS!"
She was in the forest once again, defeated. Hollow.
"No," she pleaded.
The fog cradled her and dried her tears.
"No, please," she cried.
She saw seasons come and pass. She saw wars fought and lost.
She was sitting on the Iron Throne. The fog encircling the throne room. There was not a soul with her and her whimpers echoed in the room.
"There's a way to avoid this," the swirling mists said, clear as day. "A way to break the chains of fate and cheat destiny."
"How?" she asked between sobs.
In the middle of the room, the polished marble cracked. From there a white sapling sprouted and grew into a tree in front of her eyes. The tree had no leaves and from one moment to the next, it turned into a man.
The man slithered his way to the throne. Cersei was petrified, not due to fear. She simply couldn't move.
The man reached the feet of the throne, drew his sword to lay it at her feet and kneeled. "There's only one way to defy fate, Your Grace." He raised his eyes to hers.
"How?" she heard herself ask.
The wolf in the gilded cage
Sansa never thought distress could cause pain until now. Her bed was as soft as her pillows, but her chest was tight and inside she felt everything was broken and could never be fixed.
Also, she was alone.
Back when she found Jeyne in her room, there was only fear in both girls, but sharing the burden between friends made the feeling lose its edge.
Father was alive too.
But it was not to last. After she was summoned to the queen's side, Jeyne disappeared.
She clutched the book Jon had gifted Arya and her. The Hound recovered it from her room in the Tower of the Hand along with her belongings. Sansa wanted to thank him for that at least.
She couldn't sleep without Lady Vin's adventures in her embrace. It was her only companion now, but she couldn't read it. She had made a vow. She could only read it with Arya, never on her own.
There were times when she was tempted to open the book and read it all over again. Maybe even draw strength from Lady Vin. But she was her father's daughter. She couldn't break her promises, it would have made Father sad.
Through all the days she spent in her room in Maegor's Holdfast, Sansa found some amount of refuge in her dreams. In them she was running free in the forests and fields at her sister's side.
She felt tears pooling in her eyes. She should've known not to trust Joffrey or the queen. Back in Darry, she should've known. When the queen shrieked for the execution of her and her sister's direwolves, she should've learned never to trust her.
She cried and pleaded for Lady and Nymeria's lives. It was all a misunderstanding after all, Nymeria saw Joffrey with a sword and took it from him thinking he would harm Arya. Lady was innocent of all blame as she wasn't even there.
That day, she went to bed crying for her direwolf.
When morning came, Arya was missing. Her and the two direwolves.
When she was found four days later, Sansa embraced her and cried in her sister's shoulder. "Thank you, please forgive me" she repeated a thousand times. Arya accepted her apologies. "Otherwise how can we keep our word to read together?" she said. Sansa hugged her with all her strength.
Her sister wasn't a lady proper, and would embarrass her time and time again. But she was brave and kind when it mattered most. Just like Lady Vin.
They both kept their vow and only read the book together. Arya loved the warriors and how loyal and brave they were. Sansa loved everything. From the magic in a far away world, to the characters challenging fate and fighting with everything they had, even when it wasn't enough, even when they knew it wouldn't be enough.
"Hoping against hope", Jon had called it.
But above all, Sansa loved Lady Vin. She was strong and cunning where Sansa was weak and stupid. Lady Vin wouldn't have been deceived by the queen's sweet words.
But Sansa wasn't like Vin. She wasn't strong when the world wanted to keep her down. She wasn't clever when it mattered.
Even worse, she didn't know what had happened to her sister. She heard whispers telling of how she must be dead by now. About Jeyne, she didn't even hear whispers.
Tears fell on her pillow and she gave herself to the darkness again.
When she woke up, there was one question engraved in her mind. Could I be strong?
Robb was strong.
When she heard of the Battle of the Green Fork, her heart soared. Her brothers were coming for her.
Even when Joffrey ordered Ser Mandon to hit her, she didn't mind as much.
She remembered her brother in Winterfell. Commanding respect among their household and even the lords that came to visit.
The noble ladies visiting Winterfell always praised her brother. "He's so gallant," Lady Wylla Manderly used to say. "Eddard Stark's perfect heir," Lady Sara Norrey said to Sansa's mother once.
Robb made friends with ease. Theon loved him like a brother, Eddard Karstark would oft come to Winterfell to hunt with him.
His authority was never questioned, but at the same time, Robb was Father's heir. He was crowned king just recently. That day, Ser Trant hit her harder than ever before.
She didn't have the same authority in Winterfell and much less here in King's Landing. No one would listen to a girl the same way they would listen to the Prince Crown. Or how they would listen to Lord Tywin.
He arrived before Joffrey's name day and stopped all celebrations planned. No one dared to question him, not even the king.
She then thought of her other brother. Jon baseborn status left him with little to no real authority in Winterfell. And yet, her brother was able to make people listen.
The guards respectfully greeted him, the cooks always had something ready for him, the stableboys were always happy to see him. Even Septon Chayle took a liking to Jon.
She had heard how Jon built a town of blacksmiths that later became two. She also heard of how her brother took orphans, would be criminals and beggars of White Harbor and Wintertown, and forged them into good men and women. Of how he was able to rebuilt Moat Cailin in a fraction of time Father had thought possible.
Mother had been wary of Jon, of his ambition. Sansa, had been too much of a coward to challenge her views, but she knew her brother. He would never try anything untoward against his trueborn siblings. Her brother was incapable of doing so.
When they arrived at Moat Cailin, Sansa saw a noble lord in all but name in Jon. The servants were equally attentive as they were in Winterfell, the guards always walked straight and the lodgings were almost as comfortable as her rooms in Winterfell.
Jon was strong in a different way than Robb. A way that perhaps Sansa could imitate.
"Why do you know the names of all the guards and servants," she asked her brother once.
"I don't know them all by name, but I should. The least I can do for their work is to properly reward and thank them. I can only do that if I can recall their names."
She saw how the smallfolk preened when her brother called them by name, and Robb noticed too. He started calling their household by name too. In the Moat, the maids taking care of her accommodations always muttered a blessing to "Lord Snow's family" when they thought no one was listening.
She even heard King Robert say how the Moat's household would happily die for their "Lord Snow". "I'm telling you Ned. I've seen those eyes back at the Trident in my own soldiers. Your boy has good men by his side."
She dried her tears and got up from the bed.
In a foreign place, labeled as a traitor. Could she get someone on her side? Could she be like Arya, Robb and Jon? Or was she doomed to forever be Sansa?
When the maid who cleaned her room came later in the afternoon, Sansa was sitting in the corner of the bed. She kept looking at the maid, trying and failing to find the proper words.
"Hello… good, woman… How- What is your name?"
A fugitive's tale
Arya's scalp still hurt when she left King's Landing. Yoren had shaved her hair, but she had been terrified and fought him while he dragged her.
"I apologize for that boy, but I couldn't risk a gold cloak recognizing you," Yoren said after making her join the Night's Watch caravan.
The caravan went along the kingsroad. Thirty criminals and orphans going to the Wall where her uncle Benjen was.
It took a day before one of the orphans, Lommy Greenhands, had named her "Lumpyhead", and another two before Hot Pie tried to take away her sword from her.
Yoren separated her from Hot Pie after the blonde boy was whimpering in the ground. And after punishing her, Yoren told her about her father. "He was supposed to take the Black. Someone asked me to wait for him."
On and on they went. The Bull, another orphan boy, tried to talk to her. "Lommy's scared of you," he said. She didn't answer, her mind was stuck in the steps of the Sept of Baelor, in her father, and in Joffrey.
After they arrived at a village on the road, Yoren changed plans. "Lord Rykker is a friend of the Night's Watch, he'll provide good men for the Wall."
Out of earshot, he told Arya the real reason. "Your brother is something else little lady. He defeated Lord Tywin and now the lions are moving south. I don't think anyone could recognize you, but I'm taking no chances."
And so, off to Duskendale they were. The plan was to stay there for three or four days. "Until Lord Tywin gets to King's Landing." And then return to the kingsroad on their way north.
On the road to Duskendale, Arya saw the red comet at night. It was a beautiful sight, and scary too. "The Red Sword," the Bull called it. When Arya squinted and tilted her head she saw it too, only it wasn't any sword, it was Ice, with the rippling patterns of Valyrian steel and the red was her father's blood on the blade.
###
They arrived at Duskendale with thirty heads, and were going to leave it with five and thirty. Lord Rykker opened his dungeons for petty robbers and poachers, but not for anyone else. "We hang murderers the day they are caught," the lord said.
When in town, they heard great news. Robb was crowned King and the Starks took Maidenpool from the Lannisters.
Her brother was going to be a better king than Joffrey, Arya was sure. She wanted to be glad her brothers were close. But she wouldn't do so until she saw them herself.
Meanwhile she was hearing what other tables were talking about. Mayhaps she'd learn something of importance.
"One day I'm off-loading wine barrels in Braavos, and the next the Seven Kingdoms have three kings!" the sailor in a table across from her said.
"Bah! Three kings or one, it does not matter to us. We'll be in Braavos, or Pentos, or Myr by next month."
"Stag kings, wolf kings… it's all the same to old Nale," said a big belly man with salt-and-pepper hair. "As long as they buy, I'll sell. That's all there is to it."
Arya's brother wasn't the same as Joffrey, but saying so here would be foolish, so she kept quiet.
"The same for you might be," the first sailor said. "We can't reach King's Landing by sea. Lord Stannis took the royal navy and is stopping trade to the city. He can't keep up the blockade, my captain said. King's Landing means a lot of gold to the Free Cities." He leaned in as if to share a secret. Arya sharpened her ears. "He said Myr or Tyrosh will set sail with their navy by the end of the month."
Nale chuckled, and loudly said: "Your captain tells a high tale Kem. The Free Cities don't care for a blockade to King's Landing. Their merchants will simply come to Duskendale, Maidenpool or Gulltown. Or White Harbor. They don't care for wolves, stags or lions. The only god they have is gold."
The sailor, Kem, grumbled something she couldn't quite catch.
"Bah, don't worry about my friend. He just has this whore he likes in King's Landing," said the other sailor. "You were telling of the wolf king in Maidenpool?"
Arya had to hear this, mayhaps Yoren had heard wrong and they were going straight to the Lannisters' hands.
"The wolf king's brother," said Nale and took a long gulp of his ale. Hurry up old fool. "A boy no older than six and ten. Merchants say the Stark King offered to pardon the lions from their crimes if they left the town in three days. Then made his brother to set up trials for the criminals they already caught."
"Bah!" Kem said. "Trials you say? I'm certain they hanged them all, why did they need trials?"
Arya almost drew her sword. How dares he question her brother?
Nale chuckled, "That's what I thought too." He sipped his ale enjoying the annoyed looks his companions gave him. "The septon who told me this story says there were holy men and women declaring the guilt or innocence of the accused."
There were soft murmurs all around. Arya realized she was surrounding the table, along with the Bull and many of the inn's guests.
"But, the Northerners don't follow the Seven," someone in the audience said.
"Followers of the Seven or not, they showed respect to holy men and women. Unlike the Lannisters who raped septas and hanged septons, the wolves march with them in their ranks. As a matter of fact, the septon told me the garrison was so moved, that at the third day, they opened the gates to receive the Father's justice themselves."
The whole inn was hanging by Nale's every word. Arya herself wanted to know more.
"But that's not all," Nale said and stood up with a leg over his chair. "The final trial was that of Amory Lorch! A man so vile, his name will be used as a curse by my grandchildren." He spat on the floor. "The Others take him and his name."
Arya looked around, she didn't recognize the name, and from what she looked, no one else did.
"Who's that?" someone asked.
"I think we all here remember the Sack of King's Landing," said Nale while looking around.
The people quietened at those words.
"Many of us lost an uncle or aunt. Or mayhaps a daughter or son that day."
Arya heard mutters and curses in the crowd.
"Back in Maidenpool, Ser Amory confessed his great sins to the Father Above while in his trial. He confessed he was the killer of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, two name days old, daughter of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. The demon in human skin climbed the walls to the room of the little princess and stabbed her half a hundred times!"
She could scarcely imagine what that man did. 'half a hundred' kept repeating in her mind.
People cursed the man, his name and his family. "The Others take him," she heard a hundred times. The Bull looked green, Hot Pie was white as a ghost and Lommy, he hid behind Hot Pie when she looked for him.
Nale raised his hands asking for silence. "But that's not all my friends. The crime was not solely from Amory Lorch, someone ordered him to do it."
The old man sipped from his tankard and the crowd started throwing suspects at one another.
"As you suspect," Nale continued his tale. "The lord who ordered the Sack of King's Landing, was the man who ordered for a girl of two to be stabbed half a hundred times. Lord Tywin Lannister gave the order."
Arya felt sick. Tywin Lannister was a monster, Joffrey was his grandson, and her brothers were fighting them. Would she return home only to find Rickon dead by a hundred stabs?
"Ah, but that's not all of Amory's crimes," said Nale.
"There's more!?" asked Kem, echoing her mind.
"Aye, but my tankard is empty…" said Nale.
Someone gave him his own tankard. The storyteller thanked him while laughing and said out loud, "I've been in luck for a while, and the seven taught me to be generous with my luck. Innkeeper! A round of ale for my friends!"
The Bull helped Arya get out of the Inn. "Are you well?"
No. "Shut up."
###
They left Duskendale for Maidenpool together with a few merchants. "King Robb is buying grain. Well, I got grain." She heard them say.
Among the merchants in their group, there was Nale too. Yoren told her the man was too loud, even if Lord Rykker might be of the same mind.
While on the road, they crossed paths with a few merchants coming from Maidenpool. And in the nights, Nale kept telling stories around the campfire. He was a good storyteller, Lommy and Hot Pie followed him like lost puppies, always eager for a story. But Arya… she had a nightmare after Amory's tale. She was not alone there, the Bull didn't like hearing Nale either and kept her company away from him.
And so days passed and they were getting closer to Maidenpool. The closer they got to the town, the more agitated she grew. Jon was close, she could feel it.
The moment they saw riders with the Stark banner, Arya almost ran straight to them. The memory of the docks back in King's Landing stopped her. Those men wore the colors of Winterfell, but none had known her.
The riders looked them over and let them go on their way. Arya saw how some of the people afoot looked relieved after talking to the guards, she didn't understood why.
Just a little more, she repeated in her mind. Just a day or two more.
###
The last day of her journey started by eating soup and bread given to them in carts under the Stark banner. "Food for the brave riverlanders hit by war," told the men and women in the carts. I'm no Riverlander, she thought, but everyone got a bowl, even Yoren, who was definitely not a Riverlander.
The soup was nothing like what Arya ate in Winterfell, but the people in the caravan looked elated. Hot Pie shyly asked for seconds to a matronly woman, Arya heard the response.
"I'm sorry child. It's only one bowl for each, but don't worry, you can find work in Maidenpool. Lord Stark will hire every hand."
It sounded wrong to her ears, people calling her brother 'Lord Stark'. Her lord father was 'Lord Stark'. But he died.
They ate and were escorted by some of the guardsmen to Maidenpool. On the way she saw men and horses tilling the land on the sides of the road.
Some people separated from the caravan and continued on their way north.
Once close to the port town, she saw the Stark wolf above the pink walls, and more soup carts and people cutting wood and nailing planks.
Her feet itched to run, perhaps that was why Yoren was at her side from the moment the gate opened.
Inside the town, everyone was moving from one place to another, some carrying planks, some with wheelbarrows full of dirt.
Yoren asked for an audience with Lord Mooton or Lord Stark. Arya was too distracted to hear what they were saying. She waited for an eternity until the guards moved out of the way and escorted them up the tower.
When the door to her brother's solar opened, she caught a glimpse of him.
Jon!
Yoren's hand stopped her before she could move. It was fine, she wasn't mad. Her brother was right in front of her after all.
"Don, you can leave us," Jon said to the guard.
The moment the door shut, Arya found herself in her brother's arms.
Last night she prepared a jape for Jon. Mayhaps pretend she was a boy for a while. She forgot everything, and it didn't matter anyways.
I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I'm going home.
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A/N: We finally see the happenings in KL.
On other news, I've checked some grammar guides (joy!) and they insist I use em dashes for interruptions. So… we have em dashes now (maybe it'll feel like I'm writing in my native language now, lol)
Also, there was supposed to be a small speech in Arya's part, with the 'soup carts', but I suck at writing them and I didn't have the energy to find a good speech and adapt it.
You can give me tips: p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / yorud, only if you want and can.
Anyways, give me your comments! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ