If I Want To

Arya

The only acknowledgment that Arya and Sansa spared one another were dark scowls as they broke their fast with the rest of the family the following morn.

Father noticed, and sighed one of his weary sighs that always made the girls feel ashamed of their bickering, until something else came about to raise their ire at one another.

"What now?" Mother asked, taking in their dark scowls.

"Arya entered the tower room all muddy and improper," Sansa rushed to inform their lady mother. "She picked one of those wild flowers again. The ones that caused her to get rashes before."

"Sansa was being rotten to Jon," Arya said as she turned her big grey eyes to their father. "I didn't like the way she spoke to him. He's our brother and I love him so."

Mother's eyes hardened and her jaw set. "Arya," she scolded her youngest daughter. "You mustn't squabble with your sister over a bastard boy."

Sansa smoothed her hair, her head lifting as their mother took her side.

"Jon is my brother," Arya's voice was loud and stubborn. Mother and Sansa were proper ladies who turned their noses down at bastards. But Arya was no lady. And she would never turn her back on Jon.

"That's enough," their lord father spoke, his voice carrying, curt and hard.

Arya bit her lip, wishing that Father would defend Jon against Sansa and Mother. She was itching to finish eating so that she could find him and give him a big hug. Jon loved her best in this world, she knew because he told her often.

"The endless fighting between you two must cease." Father's brows were furrowed as he looked between the two warring girls, before turning to the eldest. "Arya is your sister and you two must act as such. You may bear the looks of House Tully of Riverrun, but you are Winterfell's daughter."

"What about me?" Arya demanded, scowling at Sansa's pout.

Father's anger seemed to recede, giving way to a small chuckle. "Dear one, no one can ever deny that you are of the North."

Arya beamed before turning her focus to her food, finally willing to feed her empty stomach.

Once her plate was empty, she stood up so gracefully that Septa Mordane might have wept, and asked for her sister's pardon. "It was wrong of me to shout at you," Arya said, feeling generous. Father's nod of approval and Mother's surprised but pleased smile, caused the upward curve of her mouth to rise a tad higher.

Sansa not wanting to be outdone, smiled sweetly at her. "I must also beg your pardon. I shouldn't have behaved so atrociously," she murmured soft and demure.

Arya dipped a quick curtsy, ignoring the shocked silence, before she turned and sprinted out of the Great Hall, Robb's choked laughter trailing after her. She could only attempt to be a lady for so long.

The afternoon found her entering the crypts, eager to explore. She could spend hours playing come-into-my-castle and monsters and maidens in the crypts among the stone kings. They sat on their stone thrones watching her silently, but Arya didn't mind.

Sansa did though, and steadfastly refused to enter the crypts and play with Arya.

While Sansa was frightened of the crypts, Arya loved it. Sometimes when Sansa was being particularly snooty, Arya took great joy in sneaking a treasured brush or doll and hiding it behind the seat of one of the stone kings. Arya had even boldly told Sansa where to retrieve her beloved possession once, but she had been too craven and had cried and run off to tattle and get Arya into trouble. It was always like Sansa to cry and ruin things.

Arya could only remember her sister entering the crypts once, when Robb and Jon had played a trick on their younger siblings.

Sansa had cried even then.

As if her thoughts had conjured her up, Arya heard Sansa's voice calling her from far off, near the entrance of the crypts. She tried to ignore her, but her sister persisted.

Arya finally sighed annoyed, leaving the crypts and climbing the twisting steps to join her sister at ground level. "What are you scared for? Nothing is going to jump out at you."

But Sansa merely shuddered as she eyed the crypts warily. "Father said we must spend time together." Her nose was wrinkled in distaste at her father's order.

"Come and play with me in the crypts," Arya suggested casually, already knowing her sister's answer.

"No," Sansa immediately replied. "Why don't we go inside and eat lemon cakes and practice dancing or singing. We can even write some poetry if it please you."

"I'd rather go riding in the wolfswood if we must spend time together," Arya said, but Sansa was already opening her mouth to refuse.

We have absolutely nothing in common other than our blood, Arya realized, as she often did when her and Sansa were disagreeing. Suddenly anxious to avoid an argument before it started, she quickly dropped to her knees, picking up a bug that had been slowly crawling along. "Do you dare me?" she questioned, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

Sansa's eyes widened as she backed away, and that was all the encouragement that Arya needed as she plopped the bug into her mouth.

Sansa squealed.

It was a shrill sound that caused Arya's grin to grow wider in delight.

Sansa turned and fled, disappearing between the armory and the guards hall as she distanced herself from the crypts.

Even her run was dainty, Arya noted with dull amusement. She looked down at the remaining bugs that continued crawling about, seemingly unaware of the fate of one of their friends.

I'll eat a bug if I want to.

An unbidden giggle escaped her and she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, lest Sansa hear her even from far away.

Remembering that Sansa had run off a while ago and knowing that her sister had a knack for tattling, Arya stood up and dusted the knees of her starched skirts, before scampering away to the nearby armory.

She found Jon balanced on the sill of the covered bridge's window. The bridge connected the armory and the Great Keep, making it easier to travel between the two from within the castle walls. "Why didn't you break fast with us?" she asked, hopping up to sit beside him.

"I woke up earlier. I sneaked some food from the kitchens," Jon admitted, pulling her in for a hug and a light kiss on the forehead.

"Not lemon cakes?" Arya asked with a straight face.

Jon laughed. "No."

She beamed at his laughter, the sound like music to her ears. "I ate a bug," Arya admitted, when his laughter faded.

Jon shot her an amused look. "Why did you do that for?" He didn't seem disgusted, only interested.

"I wanted to make Sansa squeal. It was funny. I think she ran to tell but I left before anyone found me." Arya felt warm and brave as Jon's eyes widened at her daring.

"You're a silly one," he said with warm affection.