A Furious Thing

Winterfell

Life as a Snow was no easy thing. The name of a bastard was not you wanted, especially in the Hall of honorable Lord Eddard Stark. To be the only thing existing that proved he'd broken a vow made one forget they were anything but that- a mark against his honor.

Arya Snow had spent the better part of her fourteen years trying not to let the stares burn her. Some weren't as bad as others, like the openly curious stares from the smallfolk, some had become more familiar than the palm of her hand, like the hostile stare of Lady Catelyn Stark, but some would always sting, the baffled look every time a visitor saw Lord Stark's natural born daughter with his trueborn children. They never understood why he'd like to keep his shame close.

Snow, Pyke, Rivers, Stone, Hill, Storm, Sand and Waters- the names for reviled bastards in all the Seven Kingdoms and the Crownlands besides. Arya, though fondness for books was not in her nature, had made a hobby out of researching noteworthy bastards in Winterfell's library. That was where she was when the King was spotted coming up the Kingsroad.

They'd been going on about this visit for a month now, and Arya was quite tired of hearing Lady Stark clucking over Sansa and Bran and Rickon. The children had been reminded over and over how important their behavior was, and no hair was allowed out of place. Robb, at seven-and-ten, insisted he was too old for Lady Stark's' ministrations. His new bride, Jeyne Westerling fussed enough anyway. Jon had always been good at taking care of himself. Catelyn never worried about her second eldest son.

Seeing Sansa getting fussed over always made Arya angry. It wasn't like she needed it. Her half-sister was absolutely beautiful. She looked just like her mother, eith long thick auburn hair and Tully blue eyes. Arya, on the other hand, had the long face and grey eyes of a Stark. Her hair was dark brown and unruly. If anyone's hair needed brushes, it was Arya's

"Arya," a hurried whisper broke through the silence of the library. She glanced up from the passage about House Blackfyre.

"Jon?"

"Father wants to see you," he explained, still whispering.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Maester Luwin isn't even here, Jon. You don't need to sneak."

"Father wants to see you," he repeated, louder this time, "and I think you'll want to get there before my mother's done helping Sansa get ready.

"Stupid Sansa and her stupid hair," Arya muttered. Jon pretended he hadn't heard. She joined him at the door, leaving her book for later. Maester Luwin had learned early on how useless it was to clean up after her.

"So, are you excited to see the royal family?"

Arya scoffed, "What, from the back row, next to Hodor? Why would I want to meet a whole new group of people who don't understand why father bothered to acknowledge me?"

Sometimes she felt like she was older than all of her half-siblings. They could be so naive, even Jon. "Sansa hasn't shut up about our handsome Princes in weeks- and she hasn't yet seen either of them."

"She won't need to wait much longer- the King's riding up our road as we speak. Which is why, Arya, we need to hurry."

"Would you like to race, dear brother?" Arya asked with a grin. Jon rolled his eyes, feigning aloofness, but when Arya took off down the corridor, her brother was hot on her heels.

When Jon and Arya skidded to a halt more or less in front of Ned Stark, the man was trying not to smile. There was no such conflict on Catelyn's face.

"Arya," Ned began. She sobered at how fast his almost smile disappeared. So this was serious. "It's imperative nothing happens when the King arrives. Do you understand?"