[Chapter Size: 3600 Words.]

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Third Person POV

North, 281 AC.

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Arya was in her room, reading the letter she had just received, brought by a raven from the North, far beyond the Wall.

[I saw her, she is certainly growing and becoming a woman that Artica would be proud of…]

Arya began to read but stopped at the first sentence.

“Damn Jon… How did he fly over the skies of the North and not come to see me?” she muttered softly, making a slight pout as she went back to reading the rest of the letter.

Her eyes widened as she read that Jon had sought answers about his mother, Lyanna Stark, through Lord Howland Reed. The text stated that he knew everything. He had spent the entire day with the Reeds before returning to the North on the same day, taking everything he needed from his late mother.

[…Starting tomorrow, I am leaving with a fleet and a military company directly to Essos. I will be heading to the Dothraki desert. My goal is to invade Vaes Dothrak and destroy all those who are enemies of Artica.]

The letter ended like that. Arya, once again, cursed under her breath, frustrated for not being part of that campaign. However, she sighed in the end. Despite wanting to be by Jon’s side, she had her own commitments now. She would stay in Winterfell for at least another eight moons, as she had agreed with him.

“It is still a bit frustrating…” Arya murmured as she left her bed and sat beside Nymeria, her giant wolf, leaning against her and stroking her head.

“You saw it, Nymeria? He left us behind… He went into a war and didn’t even tell us, and that was more than two weeks ago…!” The wolf only looked at her, unable to respond.

Arya reread the letter once more, sighing again, thinking of Jon. She stayed for a while leaning against Nymeria, feeling the warmth of the animal, until she decided to get up.

She was wearing only a nightgown. She went to her large wardrobe and chose a high-quality dress, preparing for the day.

Upon stepping out the door, Jill, her royal guard, was already waiting, as always.

“How did you sleep, princess?” Jill asked, flashing a smile.

“Too well… But I woke up with a certain frustration.” Arya said, throwing the letter against the royal guard’s chest.

Jill, a little surprised, took the letter and widened her eyes upon recognizing the king’s handwriting.

“He was in the South…” Jill murmured.

“Yes… And he could have passed by here.” Arya retorted, still irritated.

“I hope you won’t be in a bad mood because of that, princess. I’m sure the king couldn’t simply appear here after everything… Especially riding a dragon like Eragon.” Jill tried to calm her down.

Arya rolled her eyes and started walking. The royal guard sighed and followed her right after, already knowing that the princess would be in a bad mood for a good part of the day.

They walked through the corridors until they reached the castle’s main hall. It was not too crowded at that hour of the morning, but everyone present greeted Arya with respect as she passed.

She advanced to the main table, where she found her father, Ned Stark, talking to a woman carrying little Rickon in her arms. Arya saw her adjusting Rickon as she sat beside her father, while exchanging a few more words with Lord Stark and gently caressing the boy.

The woman smiled at Arya’s father before leaving the table, stepping down and approaching Arya.

“Good morning, Princess Arya.” She greeted her, giving a smile to the young woman. Calling her by the title in Artica, wanting to respect her as her guards did.

“Thank you, Cassandra. I hope you are well.” Arya returned the smile.

After that, she moved toward the table, leaving the woman behind.

Cassandra was a northern woman of common origin, who had been hired to assume the role of castellan of Winterfell. Lord Glover had recommended her to Lord Stark, and after traveling to Winterfell, Arya and Ned personally interviewed her.

She was 31 years old, a well-educated woman thanks to her parents, and had a pleasant appearance for someone of her background—certainly, she would stand out if cared for like a noblewoman.

Cassandra already had some experience in administration, as she had taken on certain duties at the castle of Deepwood Motte after her husband’s death during the Greyjoy Rebellion. She remained assisting with management until her two children built their own lives and secured professions—one had joined Lord Glover’s guard, and the other was learning the blacksmith trade. They were 16 and 15 years old, which was already considered adulthood in this historical period.

When she no longer needed to care for them, she accepted the opportunity to work at Winterfell. Arya liked her especially for her strong faith in the Old Gods and her respect for northern culture, making her capable of teaching Arya’s younger brothers.

Cassandra certainly stood out now that the castle was free from the southerners, who had long rooted southern faith in the Stark seat. Arya saw in her someone who could help restore the North’s traditions.

“Good morning, princess!” a male voice echoed near the tables as Arya and Jill made their way to the main one.

Arya looked and recognized the man. It was none other than Buri, her other royal guard. He had slept the night before, as he had switched shifts with Jill.

“Good morning, Buri,” Arya greeted him.

“Did you sleep well?” Jill didn’t miss the chance to tease her colleague, raising an eyebrow from behind the princess.

“You talk as if you won’t be sleeping tonight… Just enjoy your night today as I enjoyed mine yesterday,” Buri replied, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring the barbs exchanged between the two royal guards, Arya finally sat at the table. She approached her father.

“Good morning, Father,” she said, kissing his cheek and, right after, another on little Rickon.

“Good morning, daughter,” Ned murmured, with his characteristic calm.

“Good morning, Arya,” Rickon responded quietly.

He was still somewhat affected by his mother’s departure. It had only been a few moons since Catelyn had left, and it would take time until he got used to her absence, while he slowly began to see Cassandra as a maternal figure.

Despite being in a bad mood because of Jon’s letter, Arya sat cheerfully. Her family soon began to gather. Robb and Bran arrived a few minutes later, and Sansa followed shortly after, accompanied by her friend—the only one remaining in Winterfell.

Bran seemed excited, showing that he was overcoming much of his grief over their mother’s departure. Robb, on the other hand, maintained a more serious and reserved expression.

Sansa, however, certainly did not accept their mother’s departure well, which had happened four moons earlier. She blamed Arya, perhaps more than anyone, for everything that had happened. The two sisters rarely spoke, and when they did, the atmosphere between them was tense.

Arya often left Sansa speechless—insults and nicknames no longer worked on Arya, which left the redhead lost, not knowing how to win an argument with her sister.

Arya, for her part, did not care. She felt she had done what was right and refused to call Catelyn “mother” again, after all the fights and provocations that took place before she left Winterfell. The woman even seemed remorseful after everything, but for Arya, it was too late.

Arya ignored all the dozens of letters her mother had sent from Riverrun during that period and did not open a single one.

The conversation flowed among the family after everyone had gathered there, while Arya talked with Robb, Bran, and her father.

“You’re upset about something?” Bran pointed at Arya, starting to notice a difference in his sister’s behavior.

“I’m not,” Arya replied quickly.

“Yes, you are,” Bran insisted, stubborn as always.

“I received a letter this morning,” Arya decided to explain, realizing it was no use trying to hide it.

“A letter from Jon?” Bran asked, excited, raising his voice a little. He knew that Arya and Jon kept in touch, even though it sometimes took weeks for the letters to arrive.

With that question, everyone at the table stopped eating and turned their curious eyes to Arya. With no choice, she sighed. She didn’t want to expose that in front of everyone, but now there was no alternative.

“Yes,” Arya said.

“Really, what happened?” Bran asked, even more interested.

“Some problems in Essos. Jon left for there. The Dothraki are threatening to attack some cities he has trade agreements with. So, he decided to deal with it personally. He’ll be away for a few moons,” Arya summarized the situation, avoiding details about Jon’s passage through Moat Cailin.

“He’s going to fight in the Dothraki desert?” Bran became even more excited.

“More or less… He’s going to negotiate with the Dothraki,” Arya corrected, trying to contain her brother’s enthusiasm.

The others exchanged glances in silence. Ned raised an eyebrow, clearly saving that matter for after breakfast.

At that moment, Cassandra approached the main table in the hall and called Lord Stark’s attention by saying his name.

“Lord Stark.”

Ned turned to her, and she continued.

“I’ve prepared everything for your departure, and I also asked the men to remove everything that was pending in the sept. Everything is ready to proceed with the destruction,” she informed.

“Good. Now go eat something. We’ll talk about this later,” Ned replied, satisfied.

Cassandra nodded and chose one of the lower tables to sit and have her meal.

In the end, everyone dispersed from the table. Rickon and Bran went to their lessons, Sansa went with her friend to sew, Robb went to handle some matters he needed to organize, and Arya went to her father’s solar to settle some issues.

“Forty-five thousand men…” Lord Stark murmured, thoughtful as he looked at Arya’s letter.

“Thirty thousand men, ten thousand dwarves, and five thousand giants. There’s a difference, Father,” Arya corrected, with a slight smile.

“Surely you wanted to be with them, didn’t you?” he said, with a tone of mild disapproval.

“Certainly, yes,” she answered without hesitation. After all, she expected to take part in Artica’s wars. Besides, she still felt uneasy about the fact that Jon had passed through Moat Cailin and had not come to Winterfell to see her. She knew she couldn’t demand much, but still, she was a little upset.

Jon sending a military campaign… It wasn’t something so important as to impress Lord Stark that much, despite the fact that it did. But… knowing that he had gone South and visited Howland… Lord Stark felt a bit bitter about it.

These thoughts left him restless. Knowing that Jon had learned about Lyanna through his friend’s mouth and not from himself made him feel like he had failed.

He had always known he had the duty to tell the truth to his nephew, but he had never had the courage to speak about his sister. So, it was understandable that Jon sought answers elsewhere. Even so, Ned felt that he had made a mistake.

“Father…” Arya noticed his sad expression and continued.

“Jon will forgive you,” she said, with firmness and softness at the same time.

Letters had been sent to Jon by Ned, but Jon had said he never opened them due to a lack of time, because of his duties as king and also taking care of his family.

But, obviously, that was just an excuse, and Arya knew it. Jon was avoiding those letters. Perhaps because he was still upset, perhaps for another reason she didn’t quite know. But she hoped to be able to see her father’s letters. She had already demanded this in her latest messages.

After talking to her father, she realized he was trying to mend things with Jon. Perhaps, soon, there could be a reconciliation between the two.

“I know…” Ned murmured, thoughtful, after hearing his daughter’s words.

Arya was about to respond when the door was abruptly knocked. She and Ned turned at the same time.

“Enter.”

Jory ended up opening the door after Lord Stark’s permission, while the sight of Arya’s royal guard, Buri, was noticeable—he was now taking care of Arya’s security, as Jill had taken the day for some rest.

“Lord Stark, everything is ready. Shall I order the men to begin?” Jory asked.

Ned looked at Arya and stood up.

“We’re done here. Let’s go outside… It’s time to end this,” Ned stated, leaving the solar, accompanied by his daughter.

Outside the castle, a great commotion was forming. Robb was personally supervising everything, being responsible for it. There were several men around the sept, some holding hammers.

Arya had convinced her father to destroy that sept. It no longer made sense to keep it there. Only one person still openly followed the Faith of the Seven in Winterfell, and although Sansa still adhered to it, she had not protested against the decision.

Arya had decided to focus on strengthening the Stark family’s position in the North and on rescuing northern culture. She wished to revive the traditions of the Kings of Winter and reinforce the bonds with the Old Gods.

Despite the respect Ned had earned by fighting and winning the war during Robert’s Rebellion, Robb faced challenges as heir and future lord of Winterfell.

The weight of being Winterfell’s future lord was already upon him. His name was no longer seen in the same light as before, after the fallout with Jon when they were just children. He needed to reaffirm himself. And Arya knew that strengthening Winterfell and northern culture within the castle would be essential for him to gain the full trust of the lords.

The destruction of the sept was a first step. To Arya, it was almost an affront against the High Septon, but as Jon had once told her, some Kings of Winter would spit on her father’s grave when he left this world—for being the first Lord Stark to place the Faith of the Seven there, when they had fought against it for thousands of years—as if he were spitting on all their sacrifice to wrest the North from the hands of the Andals.

It was a mark of southern interference that needed to be erased from the heart of the North.

“I see you’ve done a good job, brother,” Arya praised Robb, stopping beside him.

Robb nodded, taking on the responsibility that was his.

Arya’s eyes scanned the men until she found a familiar face.

It was a man holding a hammer, but his expression was one of pure humiliation. He seemed to be suffering just by being there.

This was the current state of Theon Greyjoy. There was no longer the good life he had once had. Now, he performed manual labor like any other servant or guard. He was being severely punished for his past mistakes.

“Robb, I’ll let you give the order, Lord Stark,” Ned said, giving way to his son.

Robb nodded again, addressing the men.

“You heard it, lads… Let’s begin!” he spoke, pointing toward the sept.

“Start!” His voice echoed firmly across the courtyard with the command.

The men did not hesitate. They approached the sept, grabbed their hammers, and began striking with force. The sound of the impacts echoed as the walls of the house of the southern gods began to crack.

Everyone in Winterfell stopped to witness the moment. The sept, which had stood there for over seventeen years, was being torn down. Each hammer blow made the cracks grow until the first walls began to crumble.

Theon did not seem pleased at all as he repeatedly swung his hammer. He felt he should be by Robb’s side, supervising the men, but that was no longer his reality.

He couldn’t even hold the hammer properly with his hand, still weakened since Jarl had broken it many years ago.

“Stop slacking, squid! Work!” one of the men mocked him at his side.

Clearly, Theon was no longer well-regarded in Winterfell, and that frustrated him. Even so, he kept working.

The structures began to give way, and the men moved away from the more dangerous areas, avoiding being hit by the debris. Little by little, the sept of Winterfell was falling.

Arya knew her mother would not be happy with that—not at all—especially because Sansa also followed the Seven. Even so, Ned remained firm in his decision and followed his daughter’s advice.

These are the origins of the North. The South cannot hold authority here.

Lord Manderly may choose to follow the Seven—that is his right. But in Winterfell, the Starks represent the North and must not forsake what shaped the men who follow them.

That thought echoed in Lord Stark’s mind, with Arya repeating the words Jon had once told her, as he watched the colored glass above the sept door—usually reflecting light onto the altar—begin to crack along with the wall. The men shouted and ran away as the structure gave way.

Rickon had been brought by Cassandra, who held him in her arms. He wanted to watch the destruction, curious like any child. Bran also ran to join them.

Sansa, however, watched from a castle balcony, accompanied by a friend. She did not look happy at all to see it, but she remained silent.

Arya sighed, continuing to watch until the last walls finally fell. Everything happened in about twelve minutes.

“Take him inside,” Lord Stark asked Cassandra, pointing to Rickon.

She nodded and prepared to take him, but the boy protested, with his childish voice.

“But Father, I want to see you leave!”

“We will leave only in the afternoon, son, after lunch. Don’t worry. I’ll handle a few more things, and we’ll meet in the hall,” Ned crouched down and spoke calmly.

Rickon nodded, a little upset, but accepted it. He was taken by Cassandra back into the castle.

Robb was finishing organizing the men after the destruction of the sept, and Arya followed her father to the solar. They still needed to finalize the last preparations.

After the destruction of the sept, it was already near the end of the morning. Arya and Ned discussed a few more matters before gathering with the family for lunch in the great hall. That would be the last one before the journey that would last a few moons.

In the early afternoon, Lord Stark, accompanied by his two sons, Bran and Robb, along with Arya, her royal guards, her friend Mearin, the Artican companions, and some soldiers, were ready to set off on a journey through the North.

Arya had suggested to her father that he should undertake a reconnaissance campaign that year, visiting the main lords and places of the North. It would be good to reaffirm the Stark family’s position and would also prepare Robb and Bran for the future. Both would personally meet their lords and their houses—something rare, as they hardly ever left Winterfell.

Hundreds of horses were gathered in Winterfell’s courtyard. The first destination would be south, to Moat Cailin, and from there, they would proceed to Torrhen’s Square.

After that, they would head north, as Arya wanted to personally visit Icehill Farm, which Jon had helped prosper. She had heard the story several times from his own mouth and had always found it fascinating. She wanted to meet those people who had welcomed Jon when he was lost and who had been rewarded by the gifts the gods had bestowed upon him.

Then, they would pass through Deepwood Motte and visit the Mountain Clans, the land of Arya and her siblings’ grandmother’s family. After that, they would go to Last Hearth and even to The Gift, an area currently managed by the Night’s Watch.

Ever since Queen Alysanne Targaryen granted that land to the Watch, taking it from the North’s hands, Jon had always said that it had been a grotesque mistake. Much of the Watch’s decline stemmed from that act, which gradually distanced them from the support of the northern lords.

Afterward, they planned to go to Karhold and travel down the East Coast, visiting all the lords of that region, until they reached White Harbor.

Finally, Ned still intended to go to Greywater Watch to visit his old friend, Howland Reed, and talk about Jon. Upon learning that his nephew had recently been there, Ned decided to include this visit as the last stop before returning to Winterfell.

The journey, in total, was expected to last about six moons. During this time, Lord Stark would be away from the castle, but Arya had managed to convince him that it would be worthwhile.

Robb and Bran seemed excited about the idea, but Sansa refused to go. Rickon was also too young to travel, which made him sad to know that his family would be away for so long.

However, Sansa would be responsible for looking after him, along with Cassandra, who was already playing almost the role of a mother to the boy. She was offering him a far more northern education than he would have received with Catelyn, which Arya considered quite positive.

Gradually, everyone was ready. Ned looked at the group and raised his voice.

“I believe we are all ready. Let’s go!” Lord Stark gave the order.

Thus, he began to ride. Arya mounted her enormous wolf, Nymeria, and followed beside her father. Her royal guards, Jill and Buri, accompanied her as always, watchful. Other soldiers and Articans joined them, forming the company.

Robb and Bran seemed especially excited. It was an opportunity they had long awaited: to travel through the North and get to know the lands and the men they would one day command.

And so, they departed.

—–

Raccoon Here:

I didn’t want to make Jon spend a whole month going from one chapter to another, so I wrote this chapter to focus on the Starks and the situation in Winterfell.

————-Nexts Chapters —————-

Chapter 241 – Vaes Dothraki.

Chapter 246 – Status of Westeros.

Chapter 256 – The Eyes of Death.

Chapter 265 – The Game of Thrones is About to Begin.

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