16 Chapter 16: Forgone Brother

Arya stands alone in her room, eyes bloodshot and puffy, with ugly tear stains running down her face. The first rays of the sun would soon shine on Winterfell but the girl hadn't sleep all night. Instead, she'd spent the entire last night thinking of what she overheard. The previous day, her mother had apologized to Jon.

Arya didn't know what she was apologizing for or why she was doing it in public, but she still felt happy for her brother. It took a lot of time for Jon to integrate himself with the family, and now it looked like he was fully accepted by her mother. It was only a few hours after the fact that she learned that Jon was leaving Winterfell to go become a knight.

This was something Arya could not accept. For most of her life, Jon had been her only friend, the only person who could understand her. They both shared the wolfblood that their siblings lacked. They had inherited the Stark black hair and grey eyes, not the vibrant red hair of the Tully's. They were considered wild and improper. Jon for being a bastard, and her for being unladylike.

Jon was the only one of her siblings that she felt she truly shared blood with. Not that annoying spoiled brat Sansa or that crybaby Bran. In her eyes, Jon was her actual brother, not just a half brother, but a real one. When she was younger, Arya remembered that Sansa would complain about her constantly, saying that she must be a bastard like Jon, otherwise she wouldn't be so wild and barbaric. At the time Arya hated this, but now she wished she was a bastard like Jon.

Then maybe she would be able to join him on his journey to become a knight. She'd be able to learn to swing a sword, ride a great majestic stead, not just a pony. Perhaps she'd even be able to wear armor and ride into battle like her father had in Robert's Rebellion. She could almost see it herself, her and Jon, side by side, swords in hand charging at knights with the wind cutting at the skin.

"Uggghhh." She screamed into her pillow. "Arrgghhh."

Her sadness quickly turned to anger when she heard a light knock at the door. Arya got up, face wracked with grief as she opened the door with a hard push. "What do you wa-" She paused mid sentence and stared up at her brother. Jon had come to see her before he left, she thought to herself.

For the first time that night, she smiled. Jon leaned down to her face, one knee on the ground like a kneeling knight, Arya liked that, it made her feel like a lord. Then he brought his hand to his back and pulled from behind him an elegant sword. The blade was incredibly slender and intrinsically beautiful, like a needle. The detail carved into the handle of the blade formed the face of a black direwolf, the sigil of their house.

No, she thought, her house. And the tears threatened to fall down again. Jon seemed to realize this, as he brushed at her eyes with a light hearted smile. "I brought you a gift. Why are you crying? Don't tell me the brave knight Arya is afraid of a sword." She pouted. How could she be afraid of a sword?

She was Arya Stark. The daughter of the Lord of the North, she could never be scared by a sword, or any man wielding one. Jon was being silly. "You better be scared of me. If you don't bring me with you to the Reach I'll hunt you down with the Winterfell guard." Jon's smile stretched from ear to ear. "No doubt you'll raise the banners and send the entire North after me as well."

She smirked. "If I have to. But I'll spare you mercy if you take me with you. I want to become a knight too." Jon shook his head, and her hopes were once again dashed. "I'm sorry Arya. But neither lord Stark nor mother will let you go. Your place is here at Winterfell."

Arya felt her stomach drop and a horrible feeling churned in her. "Can't you just take me without them knowing? Please? I promise I'll behave and do whatever you say." Jon dropped the sword along with it's sheathe and pulled her into a tight hug. His comforting warmth made her even more sad. She wouldn't be able to feel this for a few years or maybe never again.

"I really am sorry Arya, but I can't take you. They won't give me permission and they'd send men after me if I took you. Just be a good girl and wait for me here in Winterfell. I promise, that in a couple of months I'll be back to visit you. Ok?" The tears that had been temporarily stalled poured like a waterfall into Jon's shoulder. But Arya still nodded. She knew that she was to stay in Winterfell. Her desires didn't matter to her parents, they would never let her out of their sight from fear that she would be in danger.

Jon pulled back from their hug and lightly kissed her forehead. "Just wait Arya." He whispered. "I promise I'll be back. Until then..." He grabbed the sword and placed in her hand. "I want you to learn what you were always meant to do. You are a warrior Arya. Always remember that."

Right, she thought, I am a warrior, this is what I was born to do. She backed away from Jon and timidly swung the sword. It was incredibly light, almost as easy to move as a pen. But the sharp noise it made when it cut through air gave it a feeling of elegant danger. Like how the dragon queens were described in the books.

"Do you like it?" Arya beamed at him. "I don't just like it I love it." But the memory of Septa Mordane chastising her for wanting to be a knight was clear in her head. "Do...do you really think I can become a knight Jon?"

"Oh I don't just think, I know you will. One day, the entirety of Westeros will fear the name Arya Stark."