[Chapter Size: 3900 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Winterfell, 298 AC.

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As soon as Willas asked his third question, the atmosphere in that room immediately grew tense, as if the temperature had dropped even further, to the point of making the two southern lords uncomfortable in their overly lavish noble garments, not suited for such cold they weren’t used to.

“Jon has no interest in the Iron Throne, as far as I know.” That was Arya’s answer, as she looked at the brothers with a rather serious tone.

‘They know.’ She knew. They knew about Jon’s parentage—it wasn’t for nothing that one of the Tyrells had even shown a rather dangerous glint in his eyes when asking that. After all, it seemed to put many things at risk.

Even if they could use it as a threat to attack the Starks… the entire North could join with Arctic as well, which put them in a difficult position. It wasn’t a piece of information that could threaten Jon as much as it might have in the past.

“I see.” Was all Willas answered, cautiously.

“Was that all you wanted, Lord Tyrell?” Arya asked, but with a tone that seemed more like she wanted to end the conversation than seek a response.

“Yes, that satisfies us. We’ve brought the gold we owed… it’s in White Harbor. We heard your departure is approaching… so I’ll ask my brother to accompany you to the port to retrieve the gold from our ship so you can take it to your brother.” He said, pausing before continuing.

“If it’s not offensive to invite myself… I was actually interested in going on an excursion through the kingdom, if the king of Arctic allows it, to visit Arctic. I’ve heard so much about it being unique in the world… but I fear that won’t be possible, right?” he asked.

Arya nodded. “Yes, Arctic is closed at the moment. And it will remain so for quite some time.”

“I’ve heard strange rumors about Snarks and Grumpkins and… the undead. It’s hard to believe.” Garlan let slip beside him, and she had expected that — after all, everyone tended to scoff without knowing the real darkness beyond the Wall.

No one really believed in the White Walkers, as Bran had already noticed that morning, and Arya was aware of that too.

“Say what you want. I’m sure no one believed giants existed… until one showed up at your castle’s door. Am I wrong?” she asked with a smug smile.

“Well… you have a point. But an army of the dead? That’s an exaggeration, isn’t it?” It was Willas who said it, not intending to offend her.

“Well, those who believe… believe. But be aware we won’t be trading anything else for a long time. Even you, who came from the West to buy arctican goods sold in the Free Cities, will feel the shortage.”

“And that would certainly be quite bad. After all, the ice was a big success.” Garlan murmured.

Obviously, chilled drinks had greatly changed the way we organized parties, how people drank at events or even in private gatherings in recent years among those with money.

The sensation of having something cold in a naturally warm environment was incredible — and one we couldn’t provide again until we found Arctic’s products. It was no wonder there was great conflict between letting go of all grudges and rivalries and simply bringing Arctic back as a trade ally, just to keep their hands on those goods, when no one else could manufacture them.

Cigars, fabrics, drinks, and other utensils had easily become luxury items in the lives of nobles — exotic products that had even changed the way they communicated and carried themselves at events.

However, ice was Arctic’s main asset. Arya knew Jon had been a genius for creating the rune boxes, which could only be properly activated in Arctic.

“Our father will certainly be very sad,” Willas couldn’t help but murmur with a sad smile.

Whether it was expensive or not to get ice directly from Essos didn’t matter when he never stopped buying ice, which had made the man addicted to enjoying his drinks that way.

Mace Tyrell had been very satisfied in recent years… but now, the situation didn’t seem so favorable, as he would have to settle once again for warm drinks.

“Anyway, I think we’re done here, am I right?” Arya asked.

“It’s all right, princess. This room is actually a bit colder than the rest of the castle, from what I can see. I’d rather not stay here,” Willas remarked, while Arya nodded and stood up.

Mearin and Jill accompanied her as she headed to the door, stopping when she heard one of the brothers.

“This room wasn’t meant to be a meeting place… someone used to live here, didn’t they? I won’t complain that the princess brought us here, just an observation.” Garlan commented, looking around the empty room, save for the table they had sat at one last time.

“This is the most distant room in the castle. Far from the hot springs, that’s why it’s so cold… Someone used to sleep here, a long time ago.” Arya murmured with a melancholic tone, and this sparked the Tyrells’ curiosity, intrigued by the feeling in her words.

“And who lived here?” Willas asked, looking more closely at the place. It certainly held a poor position among the Starks for someone to live here.

She pressed her lips together. “The person who lived here is known today as the King of Arctic,” she confessed.

Of all the places in Winterfell, that was the worst. It was the place where Jon had lived. That caught the Tyrells by surprise, but they said nothing — perhaps out of pity or some other hidden sentiment.

Arya had come here often after Jon left; she seemed to feel those same emotions of longing and melancholy that she had when she was just a child crying for a lost brother since her six namedays.

“Could you take us to the main tower of the castle? We don’t know Winterfell very well.” Garlan asked, and Arya nodded, going to join them to return.

They began to exit through the door, and Bari followed them. Turning a corridor, they came across some bodies on the ground — people bleeding, mostly from broken noses.

“Looks like you’ve had a bit of action around here…” Jill teased behind Arya with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course, it’s always nice to catch a few spies sneaking around…” Bari laughed.

“Take them to the dungeon,” Arya ordered.

“Of course, princess,” Bari replied, as they heard the Tyrell guards in the corridor — those who accompanied the two brothers — though they hadn’t joined the meeting. They had kept their distance, at Willas’s own request, to avoid tension and gain the trust of the arcticans.

They parted ways in the middle of the castle, while Arya headed toward her father’s solar.

Jory entered as soon as she appeared, and she asked to see her father, while the guard returned from the solar.

“Your father has authorized it.” She entered the room alone, finding her father and Robb discussing some things over the table with tools.

“I see you’re busy,” she said, smiling as she watched them.

“Arya, it’s good to see you. How are you? Are you well?” Ned asked immediately.

“Nothing much, Father. Nothing that a little time at the weirwood tree won’t fix,” Arya said naturally.

Being alone sometimes helps form ideas and calm the mind.

“I see you’re busy. I just had a meeting with the two Tyrell brothers,” she continued.

“Really?” Lord Stark raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, we ended up in Jon’s former room…” Arya ignored her father’s overreaction, who looked even more surprised.

“What did they want with you, Arya?” her father asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Actually, nothing much. They just want to return the money they owe Jon.”

“Even after the mess at the Citadel?” Robb blurted out in surprise.

“Yeah… let me ask you…” Ned muttered, still sounding quite surprised. “What did they want…?”

“It wasn’t anything big, Father. Anyway, that’s something I already handled with them. Even with their rather absurd demands — and despite me not answering any serious questions — they agreed to return the money they owed Jon. But I’ll deal with that later. Now… tell me, what are you two working on?” Arya asked, approaching the table curiously.

“The Tyrell brothers were here earlier as well, and we talked. They offered some interesting proposals regarding food. With winter coming soon, perhaps we should take advantage of what they have to offer,” Ned said.

Arya smiled. “I see you’re becoming smart and critical, Father. That’s good,” she said, pleased with her father’s comment. “Since we can’t compare Arctic’s food, it’s good to take this opportunity and refill the North’s granaries.”

“I don’t think you’re referring to the winter, are you?” Ned raised an eyebrow.

“No… Look, sorry, but I strongly believe war is coming soon to Westeros,” she murmured.

There were many things happening:

The attempted assassination of Robb.

The queen’s ambition and her dangerous schemes.

The royal bastards.

The crown’s debt.

New forces, like the Faith Militant, and even the new Greyjoy fleet.

Not to mention all the treacherous nobles and court members in King’s Landing ruling the Seven Kingdoms, able to enforce any laws they pleased in exchange for benefits.

Westeros was becoming a ticking time bomb ready to explode on its own — and it didn’t need any outside pressure to start fragmenting all the kingdoms.

Arya had already expressed some of these aspects. Lords with the king’s approval were recruiting at full speed and growing ever more powerful, ready to form armies.

“You think we’re going to war?” Robb asked, surprised, wanting to question his sister.

“The actions against your sister might have provoked a war,” Lord Stark murmured in a darker tone. “But I don’t think your mention of war has anything to do with a war against Jon, does it?” he added.

Arya sighed and sat beside Robb. “What I’m about to say is everything I know about the current state of the Seven Kingdoms, Father. And what I’m going to say must not leave this room under any circumstances,” she said, in a tone more serious than she had ever used before.

And although Lord Stark was still a bit angry with her for putting herself at risk against bandits, he still recognized that his daughter was exactly what she had always shown herself to be: despite her impulsive decisions, she was highly capable — in areas where both he and Robb were clearly lacking.

Arya sat beside her brother and began to speak. She started with the crown’s unstable situation, with information she had gathered herself during her investigation.

Though she didn’t know the exact number, she knew the crown was in debt by the millions, and that alone already made the kingdom fragile.

Not to mention the debt to the Lannisters themselves. The government was practically in their hands.

She then spoke about the queen herself and the instability her actions could cause, simply due to that vain, snobbish bitch’s pettiness.

There was also the fact that the royal children were bastards, which left Ned and Robb shocked by what they heard.

“Arya, do you realize what you’re saying? Don’t let anyone hear that,” Robb murmured, afraid for his sister.

“I know it’s dangerous, brother. But look for yourself. Nothing about Robert matches his supposed children. And look at how close the queen is with her twin brother… it’s too much.”

“Arya, what you’re suggesting is outrageous!” her father murmured, finding it absurd, trying to see whether his daughter was joking or being serious.

“I’m saying it, Father. And what will you do if it’s true?” she asked.

“Well… I’d like more proof than just a comparison of appearances. Your four siblings all have red hair and blue eyes,” he said in the end. Arya was the only one who looked like a Stark — the other Stark children had all yielded to the Tully genetics.

“But Father, you can clearly see that all of us have your face. The features — you can recognize yourself in Robb, Sansa, in me, Bran, and Rickon. And I’m not saying that just because we all have direwolves, but you can really tell we’re your children. The three royal children… you can’t see anything of the father in them!” she said and continued.

“Even though I feel sorry for Myrcella and Tommen, it’s undeniable what they are. If you look clearly, it’s a path with no return.” She spoke while looking directly at her father, since there was still a chance of a betrothal between Sansa and the ‘crown prince.’

“I’ve already denied the betrothal. There will be no union between them,” Lord Stark confirmed. The king certainly wasn’t pleased, even disappointed. Behind that came more disappointments, as the days passed and the proposals he had for House Stark were rejected one after another.

“Well, that’s outrageous!” Robb murmured. “If it’s true, there’s no way I’d let Sansa marry that idiot.”

“But we can agree that thanks to that idiot, we got the Gift back for House Stark and the North.” Arya said, laughing.

“Well, sister, is there anything you can’t manage?” Robb muttered, as Arya turned back to her father.

“Have you planned anything for the Gift?” she asked, changing the subject, while Ned was still thinking about the royal children. He turned his gaze to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course not. That’s very recent, I haven’t even thought about it. Damn it, Arya… you’ve given me so many ideas for the North. It could be better, but we still lack people,” he said, with so many lands without owners.

“I gave you a model for tax reduction to encourage farmers, and give them the chance at a better life. That will inevitably bring more people looking for opportunity,” Arya said.

She had been debating with her father over the past year about how to bring people to the North. Unfortunately, the Faith had been persistent in trying to destroy the North’s reputation — and it was working, in a way, since nearly all southerners were devoted to the Seven Gods, while they claimed the old gods were a pagan religion that would drag everyone to the seven hells.

“We’ll deal with that later, after the war,” Arya murmured. “But back to the topic of the Seven Kingdoms, Father… don’t forget: do not accept going to King’s Landing, understand? You must not go. Don’t even think about going there. It would be like placing a sentence upon yourself. They would make you a hostage. They’d bring the entire North to its knees.” Arya warned her father, as he stared at her for a few seconds.

“But…” But he didn’t finish, as Arya frowned.

“I know.” Was all he said.

“Anyway, you said a war might break out soon, with the current conditions of the Seven Kingdoms. What do you think the North should do?” he asked.

“It should remain neutral.” Arya didn’t hesitate.

“Neutral? We can’t just refuse a war in the South if Robert asks for the North’s help. Maybe I should call the banners,” he said. He had once told Robert that the North would stay neutral in a war between the Seven Kingdoms and Arctic.

But now, an internal war — especially with everything pointing to the Lannisters trying to take over the Seven Kingdoms — would he just stand by?

“Father, I still think it’s foolish to get involved in this war. Wait for Jon to finish the war against the dead. Soon, there will be nothing stopping him from coming south. And even if they tried something against the North, the Northerners could very well hold their ground for years in this position. And with winter coming — even longer. No one’s better than the wildlings at fighting in these fields. Sending the army south, into a civil war, would be suicide.”

“That’s a lot to think about, Arya. I’m not going to say what I’ll do, this or that, because everything seems too uncertain. I don’t see why we shouldn’t help Robert if the Lannisters attempt a coup.”

“Father, they are bastard children. Don’t forget that. The twins want to place bastards on the throne. Pure-blooded lions?” Arya murmured. She knew it was a bit harsh to say certain things, but she had no choice.

“Let’s leave this conversation for another time.” That was all Ned said. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, Arya. A lot happened today, and for now, let’s just focus on the Tyrells’ offer. And, as you said, let’s fill our granaries. The gold Jon once donated to House Stark has never been touched. Maybe this is the opportunity. After all, winter is coming.” He finished, as Arya nodded, and Robb did too.

“Besides, young lady…” he began, looking directly at Arya. “Let’s talk about your punishment.”

“Ah, all right, bring it on, Father.” She said, challenging him, while receiving a disapproving glare from her father for her rebellious attitude.

“Very well. For putting yourself in unnecessary danger, I want you to assist Maester Luwin and give lessons to your siblings and the other children all morning.”

Arya was about to protest when her father added:

‘Well… fine.’ Arya thought for a moment. She felt she would lose the entire morning, but it didn’t matter.

“Not just that. You’ll also help Robb transcribe letters as the heir of Winterfell throughout the city. He and I both know you have more knowledge of that, learned from Jon. I expect you to assist your older brother,” he said, while Robb seemed to blush a little.

“Of course, you can count on it.” Arya smiled.

“Arya, remember: you’re grounded. This is a punishment. I don’t want you to see it any other way,” he said.

“All right. I thought I’d be cleaning the kennels or something like that. This is fine — doesn’t seem like a very bad punishment.” Arya shrugged, already knowing she’d be forbidden from going back into the forest.

Ned just sighed.

“You’re the one treating me like a little girl.” Arya laughed at her father’s expression.

“But you are my little girl,” Lord Stark murmured.

Robb smiled, and Arya subtly curved her lips into a smile too.

“Of course I am.” She simply stood up, walked to the other side of the table, and gave her father a kiss on the cheek, smiling brightly. “I need one more thing. I’d like to read Jon’s letters,” she said.

And as she said that, her father couldn’t help but show a look full of tenderness for his daughter. He nodded, picking up a few letters from his desk, which he had set aside to make sure they didn’t fall into anyone else’s hands.

Arya took the letters eagerly, as if she were about to uncover a treasure.

“Well, I’m going to my room to read and write a few things. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

“That’s fine. But I’d like us to discuss a few more things tomorrow. Maybe… later…” Ned thought better and decided.

“All right. Don’t forget I only have a few more days in Winterfell. If I’m right, the letters will say whether Jon has already sent the ships to fetch me,” Arya said, as Ned just nodded.

“Very well. I’ll relieve you of your teaching duties tomorrow, and we’ll have a serious conversation,” he said.

Arya nodded and left, heading to her room. Soon, lying on her bed, she began to go through the letters.

And upon opening them, she saw that Jon had written something happy for her.

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