Lannister Blood

18 - Old Wounds

*this chapter includes Lysandra's POV as well as 3rd person encounters regarding the actions of other characters*

Winterfell

Robb and Arya Stark stand in the Godswood, admiring the old tree, the leaves reflecting beautiful in the afternoon sunlight.

"I was there, you know," Arya says, her voice soft but strong.

Robb looks at her.

"I was there the night you were all slaughtered," she says. "I saw what they did to Grey Wind. I saw how they paraded your body around."

Robb remains silent, considering his sister.

"I wanted to save you and mother." She clutches the sword at her side. "I was too weak to do anything then. I'm not weak anymore."

"You were never weak," Robb says, a touch of playfulness to his tone, but then it grows somber. "Even if you were the most trained soldier in the world, there's nothing you could've done, Arya. I do hope you don't blame yourself."

She doesn't reply. Instead, she keeps her face stoic and releases her grip on her sword. She frightens him, sometimes; the way she seems to be lacking emotions at times. Bran as well, with his strange Three-Eyed Raven journey, though it's different with Arya. The way she is able to move like a thief in the night. The way she cut Littlefinger's throat like it was nothing during his trial. The way she won't talk about where she's been all this time beyond King's Landing. He's gotten very few pieces of her journey out of her. But when she saw him, she wept in his arms for a long time. He did too, though he tried to remain strong for his little sister. Despite how different she may be now, Robb has never been more grateful.

"I'm sorry it was me and not mother..." he says gently. "that came back. I wish it was her. She deserved it more."

"Don't say that," Arya says, glancing at him. "You're here. That's what matters."

She places her hand cautiously on his arm and the two of them stand there for a long while, listening to the soft wind against the falling snow.

"Tell me more about this Lysandra person," Arya says, amusement in her eyes. "Is she a good fighter? Do you trust her?"

Robb smiles a little. "Yes and yes."

"But she's a Lannister."

"Yes. They're not all the same, you know."

"Maybe."

"I have a feeling you may like her."

She raises an eyebrow. "I doubt that."

He chuckles. "We'll see, I suppose."

"Maybe I'll fight her."

"Please don't."

She shrugs, a smirk on her face.

Footsteps crunching in the snow causes them to turn. They see Sansa approaching them, accompanied by Lord Royce. Their faces are grim.

Robb and Arya's comfortable smiles fade at the sight of them. In her hand, Sansa holds a scroll undoubtedly sent by a raven.

"News from the Wall?" Robb asks, but he already knows the answer.

Lord Royce nods once and Sansa's eyes cast momentarily to the ground before warily meeting his.

"Is Jon alright?" Arya asks urgently, taking a step forward.