Game of Thrones: The Legend of Jon Arctic – ASOIAF/GOT GOT

[Chapter Size: 3300 Words.]

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Third Person POV

North, 297 AC.

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They headed for Winterfell, with Arya staying close to her family, her posture straight, towering above any other knight as her wolf allowed her to appear so. The horses didn't even dare to approach due to fear, and even Lord Stark, Robb, and their men struggled to keep them calm. It was clear that Lord Wendel and his men's horses were especially uneasy.

The only horses that remained composed were the northern ones within the group, while Arya's guards stayed by her side at all times.

As they continued forward, Arya was constantly watched by the Starks, especially her father, who fixed his gaze on his daughter, long absent from home. Arya noticed his stare, sighed at last, and halted Nymeria to mount the horse she had brought for the journey. After all, she couldn't ride atop Nymeria for an entire year in the North.

Arya approached her father, keeping close to him. He allowed a small smile.

"You remind me of Lyanna, and your skill with a horse isn't far behind hers..." Ned observed as his daughter rode beside him.

"Thank you... I guess..." Arya replied, her tone distant, more a polite acknowledgment than a heartfelt response.

"..." An awkward atmosphere settled between them, while the others in Ned's group remained silent, waiting for him to continue. Finally, Ned sighed.

"Your brother..." he said carefully.

Arya looked at him as if accusing him of something, her expression saying, 'He's not my brother... you know that.' But instead of voicing it, she chose to ignore the insinuation.

"Jon is well, busy with northern troubles," she said simply.

"I imagine... I was just asking..." Ned replied, though he sensed it wasn't the best moment. Still, Arya cut him off.

"That's between you and him, Father. I hope you resolve it, honestly. But I can't answer for Jon—only he knows what's in his mind," she said. Jon had never shared the details of his grievances with her. Arya understood there were matters she shouldn't interfere with, though she sincerely hoped they'd reconcile one day. Despite Jon's anger, she didn't believe her father had been as cruel as Jon had claimed when he arrived at Winterfell mounted on Eragon.

Ignoring the curious and intense stares from the others after Arya mentioned the Arctic King, Ned nodded, understanding what should remain unspoken. He chose to steer the conversation away and refocused on Arya, eager to learn what had happened to his daughter over the past year.

"All right... Anyway... would you mind sharing with me and your brother a bit about your journey? Lord Wendel mentioned you've told tales of the places you've visited. I'd like to hear it from my daughter for the rest of this trip," Lord Stark asked. Arya saw no issue in obliging and began recounting her travels through Westeros and Essos.

They stopped only at night, setting up camp. Ned sat near Arya as they ate.

"I'll be sending some men tomorrow to inspect the hideout you discovered in the forest," he said.

"That's good. My men are already guarding the place," Arya replied calmly, spooning her stew.

"Well... I can't say I was particularly pleased to hear from Lord Wendel that my daughter decided to attack a bandit camp along the way on a whim," he said, looking at Arya.

"You don't need to worry about my safety. I have men to handle that for me, Father," Arya responded.

"Even so..." he began, attempting to express his concern over his 14-year-old daughter putting herself in danger.

"Father," Arya interrupted him, meeting his gaze. "I'm no longer a helpless girl. This is who I am now... I've killed more people at this age than you had by the time you were my age..." she said, her tone serious, her stare unwavering.

Ned was left speechless.

Ned didn't like hearing that. Obviously, he wanted his daughter to remain innocent, free from threats or danger, but Arya saw his silence and read his mind.

"Father... you may not like seeing me running around with a Valyrian steel sword in hand, fighting grown men... but at least I'm prepared for anything now. You may not approve of how Jon educated me, but I certainly don't depend on anyone else to protect me anymore," she said.

"..." Ned didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the fire before them as he pondered her words. He didn't like any of it, but what else could he do?

"I suppose you're right to know what you want... but your mother won't like hearing about this at all," he said, already imagining the chaos such revelations would bring.

"She'll say something about me not finding a husband or whatever nonsense. Big deal... Honestly, I couldn't care less," Arya scoffed.

"And you don't plan on marrying, Arya?" Ned asked, his tone tinged with concern. There had been proposals from influential figures seeking her hand, so marriage wouldn't be an issue. Even after all these years, Arya had grown into a remarkably beautiful woman, attracting attention from would-be suitors.

"If I do marry, it won't be to anyone on this side of the Wall," she replied calmly.

"You know your mother will go mad over this and oppose it," he warned.

"I live like a princess in Artica, Father. I might not be part of Westerosi high nobility, but I live as well as your king—better, even. Artica is far richer than Westeros despite being so small, and it will only grow wealthier when trade flows begin. Westeros won't be part of it, but the eastern trade in Essos will welcome it," she said.

"We can discuss this later. First, let's get to Winterfell and leave these troubles aside while the rest of our family eagerly awaits your return. Afterward, we'll deal with these issues. Is that fair?" he asked, hoping to avoid a heated argument after just reuniting with his daughter.

Arya smiled. "Agreed, Father," she said.

"Now tell me more about Yi Ti. Jon fought a war against invaders there, and I'd like to hear more about it," he said, steering the conversation back to their earlier topic. However, as the day ended, they had to stop to make camp, leaving Arya unable to recount everything.

There was still the matter of the 16,000 men who had vanished north of the Wall. It was a growing concern—none of them had returned alive. Ned knew he would need to ask Arya about it, but he decided to wait. After all, not even the Night's Watch rangers, including Qhorin Halfhand, had returned; they had been missing for over a year.

For now, he wanted to enjoy this moment with his daughter, who had grown up far from Winterfell. All the rumors about her were true: her beauty, intelligence, and exceptional skills, even as a lady, were undeniable.

Even the king had broached the topic of her marriage years ago, suggesting a potential betrothal for Arya, though the arrangement had shifted to Sansa. Regardless, Arya truly seemed like the princess she claimed to be. Her royal guards stayed close as she continued to speak about Yi Ti and Jon's war against the invaders.

Robb eventually joined them. Though their relationship had become somewhat distant over the years, they were still family, and Arya shared stories of the places she had visited.

Later that evening, Arya retired to her tent with her guards and Nymeria to protect her. The next day, Lord Stark dispatched a group of men who had traveled with them from the south to investigate the location where Arya had encountered the bandits. The group carried documents, gold, captured leaders, and even some women who had been held hostage, all of whom were to be brought to Winterfell.

The journey continued for another day until, finally, Wintertown and Winterfell came into view in the early afternoon.

"So, this is Winterfell. It's quite large..." X remarked, looking at the castle with interest as Arya continued riding alongside her father. Nymeria roamed the fields nearby, accompanied by Arya's other direwolves.

A Stark man appeared with a group of a dozen riders to meet Lord Stark.

"Milord... you arrived quickly," he said, moving to escort his lord back to Winterfell, his wary eyes lingering on the Unsullied army accompanying them.

"Let's proceed. I'm sure my family is waiting for us," the Lord of Winterfell ordered as they continued toward the city.

Upon reaching Wintertown, Arya rode through with her guards encircling her, resembling royalty in a defensive formation. The entire town trembled at the sight of 600 armed soldiers, equipped with spears and shields, marching steadily as Arya was surrounded by her royal guard.

The Northerners' reactions varied as they watched Arya's procession. While she rode confidently, proudly bearing the Arctic emblem even in lands where people feared and distrusted Artica, whispers quickly spread about the arrival of Lady Arya Stark. Many watched her with curiosity, others with admiration.

Arya was somewhat accustomed to the attention by now. She maintained her composed posture as she followed her father and brother toward Winterfell, leaving the town behind with nothing else obstructing their path to Winterfell's gates.

"Arya... I don't think we can house so many of your men in Winterfell," Ned said, acknowledging that while the castle was vast, the sheer size of her group was too much for an already crowded fortress filled with servants and guards.

"That's fine," Arya replied as she turned back toward her men. "[Have them set up camp by the wall. I'll organize everything once I've finished reuniting with my family,]" she instructed Grey Worm, who promptly relayed her orders to the troops.

The Unsullied began moving toward the designated area as Arya continued to the castle with the rest of the group, passing through the gates.

Her father and brother dismounted first, while Arya followed suit, riding slightly behind them with her guards. From her vantage point, she could see her mother, Bran, Sansa, and a little Rickon, who had been only two years old when she left Winterfell.

All of them had their eyes fixed on Arya, their expressions widening in surprise as they saw their long-lost daughter and sister. She remained on horseback, clad in her Eldenmetal armor with her sword at her hip.

Arya wanted to laugh at their expressions as her father and brother dismounted first. She followed shortly after, ignoring everyone else for the moment, quietly amused by the shock on their faces at how much she had grown. Bran, however, gazed at her with admiration, clearly impressed by the warrior she had become and the way her armor gleamed in the light.

"Arya...?" Catelyn murmured, almost disbelieving as she watched her daughter dismount. Arya approached them, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, its pommel jutting slightly forward. Her armor, feminine yet perfectly fitted to her form, allowed her to move with ease.

"Catelyn... this is our daughter," Ned said, his tone slightly lost as he observed his wife's reaction. He stepped aside, giving Arya space to approach the rest of her family.

Arya walked toward the group with a calm demeanor, her gaze scanning her family after so many years. In this moment, there was no anger or resentment—only a deep longing as she smiled at them, deciding to put their differences aside for now.

Her first gaze fell on her mother, and she offered a small smile.

"It's been seven years, Mother..." she said softly.

"Arya..." her mother repeated, the words escaping her lips as she studied her daughter, finally emerging from her shock. Slowly, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Catelyn didn't approve of Arya's clothing, but that was insignificant now. Without hesitation, she embraced her daughter tightly, even though the cold metal of Arya's armor prevented her from feeling her daughter's warmth.

"Arya! My Arya! You've come home!" Catelyn cried as she hugged her daughter tightly, tears streaming down her face. Arya returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around her mother's back, and they stayed like that for a moment.

"Come now... your siblings want to see you too," Catelyn said as she released Arya and looked between her and the others.

"Sansa..." Following the order, Arya stepped away from her mother and turned to face her sister, who stood watching her.

"Arya... it's good to see you again..." was all Sansa could manage. She seemed nervous at the sight of her sister, now so different, and couldn't even maintain the polished etiquette she prided herself on.

Arya approached and hugged her nonetheless, catching Sansa by surprise as she felt the cold metal of Arya's armor. Though Sansa had been foolish and even cruel to Arya back when they were in Winterfell, she was still her sister, and Arya would treat her as such.

Sansa didn't know how to react, staring at Arya in a daze, which brought a small smile to Arya's face. She let go and moved on to Bran, who was looking at her with wide, emotion-filled eyes.

"Are you really Arya?" Bran asked, incredulous.

"Of course, you stupid boy, who else would I be?" Arya replied, breaking into a wide grin.

Ned's gaze tightened slightly at Arya's choice of words, but Bran didn't seem offended. Tears welled up in his eyes instead. Only Arya would speak to him like that, and it made him rush toward her before she could approach him.

"Sister..." he exclaimed, gripping her armor as tightly as he could.

Overwhelmed by emotion at seeing her now-12-year-old brother, Arya gave him the broadest smile yet, returning his hug as tears rolled down her own face.

"I missed you so much, Arya!" he said, his voice low but full of feeling.

"I missed you too, Bran. I missed you more than anything!" Arya replied, realizing that he was likely the sibling most affected by her departure from Winterfell.

He must have been lonelier than anyone else; Robb had Theon, and Sansa her silly friends. But Bran and Arya had always been together before Jon left.

"Promise you won't leave again?" Bran said, still clinging to her.

"Sorry, little brother... we'll have to talk about that another time," Arya answered. She knew she couldn't make such promises, not now, especially with her mother watching closely after Bran's heartfelt plea.

Arya let go of Bran and moved toward Rickon. The boy, now eight years old, had been shyly hanging back, watching everything as Arya greeted the others. All of Winterfell seemed to have their eyes on her, which made him even more timid.

"Are you my sister?" he asked innocently, looking down with a cautious expression. His words struck Arya like a knife to the heart—he'd only been two years old when she left.

"Yes, Rickon... we're siblings," Arya said, kneeling to the ground and gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Rickon remained hesitant, his young mind confused. He looked at his red-haired, blue-eyed siblings, then at Arya, the only one who didn't resemble their mother. His memories of her were faint and distant. Arya noticed his hesitation but wasn't hurt by it. She saw only a sweet, curious boy and smiled warmly at him.

"Why don't you come give your sister a hug? I haven't seen you since you were a baby..." she encouraged.

Rickon hesitated again but, seeing his father nod in reassurance, he stepped forward. Arya reached out and embraced him, stroking his head gently.

"You'll grow to be a strong man, just like Bran..." she said with affection.

"Thank you..." he murmured shyly.

After letting Rickon go, Arya rose and began to return to her father's side. But it was her mother who approached her next.

"Arya, I've prepared your old room. It's never been used. We don't have any clothes for you, but we can have Winterfell's seamstresses make something suitable for you..." Catelyn said.

Arya shook her head. "Don't worry about that, Mother. We brought wagons with my supplies, and I have clothes I didn't even use during my travels, enough to last for years," she replied calmly.

After all, Arya owned numerous garments that would put any lady of Westeros to shame. Her sister would likely lose her mind at the sight of Arya's dresses, especially since they were made in Artica by ice spiders—far superior to any fabric found in Westeros and even the famed cloth of Myr, which Arya also possessed.

"You can't be serious..." her mother said, her expression hardening, clearly displeased by Arya's response.

"I have plenty of dresses I bought in Myr. Some cost me 2,000 gold coins, and others 10,000. So, I'm perfectly fine, Mother," Arya replied.

"What?!" Sansa exclaimed upon hearing that.

Catelyn's eyes widened at the exorbitant prices, but she restrained herself. "We'll discuss this later. How about I take you to your chambers first?" Catelyn suggested.

Again, Arya shook her head. "I can't leave my men alone while they're setting up behind the castle walls. I just need to give them a few more orders and instructions. I don't think anyone will mind if I take ten minutes, Mother," she said with calm confidence.

Catelyn pressed her lips together, clearly displeased with her daughter once more. But this time, Ned intervened, sensing the tension building.

"Arya is right. The Unsullied will only take orders from her. Let her organize her men, and she'll join us soon," he said. Arya had come to Winterfell first to greet her family, leaving her men temporarily unattended.

As Arya returned to her horse with her guards, Bran watched everything with wide, astonished eyes. "She commands her own men?!" he asked, admiration evident in his voice as Arya smiled at him.

"Six hundred... six hundred men without cocks!" Theon commented nearby, mockingly, drawing laughter from a few onlookers.

"Watch your words, Theon, for even a man without a cock can fight better than you," Arya retorted sharply, her tone far from pleasant.

Catelyn looked horrified at Arya's language, as did the septa standing nearby. But Arya didn't care; she couldn't stand the way Theon looked at her. Arya knew she was beautiful, which naturally attracted many stares, but Theon's gaze was particularly vile, as if he saw her as no better than a prostitute. She'd often considered making him an Unsullied himself, her hand itching to draw Darksister from her hip. Her royal guards wouldn't even let Theon near her due to his lecherous glances.

Theon was about to respond, but Lord Stark intervened. "Can we stop with the provocations?" Ned asked firmly, giving Theon a stern look.

The young man from the Iron Islands was forced to lower his head under the disapproving gaze of Lord Stark, knowing he had started the argument.

With that, Arya turned her horse around with her two guards and exited through Winterfell's gates to oversee the arrangements for her men, who would be staying there for a year.

Catelyn watched her daughter leave through the gates and then turned to her husband. "We need to talk about this," she said immediately.

Ned sighed, not wanting an argument. "Can we first welcome our daughter without fighting? You know Arya is no longer the girl she was, and as much as you may be dissatisfied, it's unwise to address this now. Don't even mention Jon. You know it won't end well, and she might just leave again. We can't exactly stop her and 600 Unsullied so easily," he said.

Catelyn seemed to tremble at his words, visibly uneasy, but she simply walked away. She went to join the septa, who was speaking with Sansa at that moment.

Lord Stark sighed again, already realizing that Arya's visit to Winterfell wouldn't be as pleasant as he'd hoped. He knew it wouldn't take long before Arya and her mother clashed, as Arya had clearly developed her own goals while Catelyn was determined to set objectives for her daughter herself.

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