Northern Conqueror

Chapter 25: Old Faces

Chapter 25: Old Faces

"I knew it was you," Sansa said coming to a stop at the sight of the short dark haired girl staring up at their father's statue in the crypt.

Keeping her gaze on the statue Arya asked, "Do I have to call you queen now?"

Sansa fought back a gasp, partly from her knowing of Sansa's betrothal but also from hearing her voice after years of fearing she never would. "Not yet," she said with a small, teasing smile, "Lady Stark is fine."

Arya turned her head, meeting her sister's gaze. When Sansa smiled and approached, she turned to meet her, letting Sansa hug her.

"You shouldn't have run from the guards."

"I didn't run," Arya said shaking her head. "You need better guards." Sansa laughed lightly. "It suits you. Lady Stark. Queen Sansa... Jon left you in charge?"

"He did," she answered. Arya stared at her, so Sansa smiled to hopefully ease the moment. "I hope he comes back soon. I remember how happy he was to see me. When he sees you his heart will probably stop!"

Arya made herself laugh. Sansa turned her head and Arya followed her to their father's statue. "It doesn't look like him. It should have been carved by someone who knew his face."

"Everyone who knew his face is dead."

"We're not," she said looking to Sansa. "They say you killed Joffey. Did you?"

"I wish I had," she sighed.

"Me too. I was angry when I heard someone else had done it. However long my list got he was always first."

"Your list?"

"Of people I'm going to kill."

Sansa looked at her and chuckled, so Arya returned one of her own.

"How did you get back to Winterfell?"

"It's a long story. I imagine yours is too."

"Yes. Not one with a pleasant start."

"Mine either," Arya said with a nod. "But our stories aren't over yet."

"No," Sansa said raising her chin. "They're not."

After a moment, Arya stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her sister. Sansa took a breath, glad for the embrace she returned. "Arya. Rickon and Bran are home too... but Bran's different."

Arya followed Sansa out of the crypts and through the courtyard, garnering a few stares and whispers as they made their way to the Godswood, before anyone could stop them. They made their way toward a weirwood and found Bran sat in a wheelchair with Rickon sat facing him, his back against the trunk.

Spotting the two approaching, Rickon leapt to his feet and ran to Arya. Her eyes widened, opening her arms to catch him as he practically tumbled into her, wrapping her in a hug and lifting her up slightly as he swung back and forth. Arya chuckled, waiting for her feet to touch snow again.

Looking at her baby brother, now a bit taller than her, she didn't know whether to smile in joy or frown for all the time she'd missed. He led them to the weirwood where Bran waited, eyes shifting to Arya as if not surprised by her appearance.

"You came home."

Arya rushed over to hug Bran, Sansa looking down with a proud smile as Rickon stepped beside her, letting her wrap an arm across his shoulders.

"I saw you at the crossroads."

Arya's brow knit. "You saw me?"

"I see quite a lot not."