X.

Sixteenth day of the fifth moon of 297AC. Winterfell, North of Westeros

"Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. The 'wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave. Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it.You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her." AGoT, Arya II

Thanks to her mother's confinement and the strange situation that had happened in Winterfell two days ago, Arya was taking the opportunity to escape her lessons with Septa Mordane. Because her two brothers, her uncle, her aunt, and her father met every night from dusk to dawn at the Lord of Winterfell's stays, the daily control of the Castle had fallen to Sansa, with the help of Vayon Poole and Maester Luwin.

It didn't seem fair to her that Sansa had it all. Sansa was two years older, which perhaps was why when Arya was born, there was no talent left for her. Arya often felt like this. Sansa could sew and dance, sing and write poetry. Her sister knew how to dress, besides playing the high harp and bells. Worse still, she was beautiful compared to Arya. Sansa had gotten her mother's high, thin cheekbones and the Tullys' thick auburn hair. Arya came out as her lord father, with hair that was dull brown, almost raven, having a long and solemn face. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and whinnied every time she got close. It hurt that the only thing Arya could do better than her sister was to ride a horse. Well, that and managing a house. Sansa had never had much head for numbers and now she was paying for it. Fortunately for Aryas's sister, Aunt Lyanna was helping her, giving Sansa advice each night during the intimate dinner between the family only.

These last two days Arya missed the dinners in the Great Hall with all the servants and the people who inhabited or visited Winterfell. Arya's father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he expected to stay with them. 'Meet the men who follow you, and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger' Arya heard her father say to Robb once. In Winterfell dinner hall, there was always an extra seat at their own table, and every day one man or another was asked to join them. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk might be about accounting, grain

storage, and servants. Next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him talk about armor and swords, and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day could be Hullen with his endless talk about horses, or the Septon Chayle about the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories. There was nothing better for her than sitting at her father's table and listening to them talk. Arya also loved listening to the men on the benches too; To tough as leather freeriders, Knights, young squires and grizzled old men. Fat Tom used to call her Arya Underfoot, because he said that's where she always was. 'I much preferred that, than Arya Horseface.' she thought.

Ever since Jon's incident in the crypts, Arya's brother, his father and his mother have tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. They led a practically nocturnal life, which began before sunset and lasted until the time of the nightingale. They had been secluded in her Aunt Lyanna's old family rooms, where they had moved all their belongings, although these were already packed.

' Tomorrow Jon will go to the Wall and now, who knows until when we will meet again.'

It hurt to Arya soul, know that her brother Jon had to go. Not only him. Her newfound aunt was Arya's ideal female role model, was also going with him. 'What I would give to be able to participate in a joust and dismount three knights.' Unfortunately Arya would have to stay in Winterfell, missing out on all the adventures that Bran was to experience.

'Because that's the other!! He's going to be Jon and Rhaegar's squire !! Whereas I will have to stay here and go back to my lessons with the damn septa when my father returns to rule in the day to day.'

Just thinking about it made her sick. For this reason, before the last night meetings began in the Lord's solar, Arya decided to go to her father's rooms, in order to convince him to let her go with Jon, her aunt and Bran.

When Arya came across Robb on the way to her destination, her brother had an unfriendly face and was talking to Theon, about how he couldn't accompany the squid to Wintertown tonight, because their father required him to plan how to rebuild the First Keep. That was the official excuse that had been given to the squid and all the servants in everything related to what happened the night the First Keep evaporated, the secret nightly meetings of the last two days, the confinement of Arya's mother and the sudden disappearance of Jon.

'If I were Jon, I wouldn't hide. I would show everyone who I am and who they have been despising all of this time.'

But her lord father insisted that Arya's uncle's name could not even be mentioned and that her aunt Lyanna, who had shown herself more than Jon or Rhaegar those days, was a distant cousin from the Flint's of the mountains. The house of her paternal grandmother.

Her brother Robb was not dealing well at all with the prevailing situation. Mother's betrayal of house Stark left him outraged with their mother, but at the same time Robb was hurt by Jon's decision. Arya could share the first feeling, but the second was difficult for her to understand. 'If it was up to our mother, all the Targaryen children would have died in order to one day make Sansa Queen and raise her grandchildren to Kings. How is it possible that she knew all the lies behind the kidnapping of Aunt Lyanna and never said anything? Didn't she care about the lives of others?'

Arya thought bitterly, unable to put herself in her mother's position.

'Robb should be thankful that Jon hadn't run through mother with Blackfyre. If she wasn't our mother, Jon would have taken a more drastic judgment. I'm sure of that.'

Arya didn't really know why, but thinking about what her mother did, made her blood boil. Robb had been in a bad mood for two days and confused by the events that were happening. Especially tense were the moments when Robb and uncle Rhaegar interacted at the intimate family dinners. Arya's brother Robb seemed to be throwing daggers at her uncle and always answered in a dry, forced tone. Also, Robb used to look at aunt Lyanna with a face that was somewhere between curiosity and disbelief, but had hardly bothered to meet her. Contrary to how Arya had done.

Her aunt, on the first morning of coming back from the dead, before going to rest, accompanied her to meet Winter, that was it what Arya and her brothers had decided to call the mother from the litter's pups they all had. The huge she-Direwolf with blue-gray fur and the same eyes as her Nymeria, had never been too attracted to people. She seemed to respect the Starks for having given her shelter when she went into labor, but beyond that she never had a relationship with one of them similar to the one they had with the pups. 'That was until Winter saw my aunt'.

When the two met in the kennels, it seemed like a magical moment 'Or at least it seemed to me.' she reflected.

The huge she-wolf, generally passive-aggressive towards the visitors of the kennels, detected her aunt scent and shot out towards her. In turn, her aunt Lya 'As aunt said she had to be called by her favorite niece.' instead of being scared by the mythological creature, seemed that she was meeting an old friend, not hesitating to hug the huge she-wolf as it approached. Instead of shunning human contact, or showing her fangs, snarl and growl, Winter began to lick the face of aunt Lya, much to the delight of her aunt who couldn't stop laughing. From that moment Winter left the kennels, to be the shadow of her Aunt Lya, coming to sleep with her, Jon, Ghost and Rhaegar in Lya's old rooms.

When Arya arrived at her father rooms, his face reflected exhaustion that he could not hide from his night meetings. Arya could see in his face, that her father was not very happy about the new family situation. According to what looked like a face of resignation engraved in stone, where before, sometimes other emotions and even a certain warm could be observed.

With a weary wave of his hand to the side of his bed where he was sitting, Arya's father motioned for her to sit beside him. When Arya did so, her father ran his hand through her hair and spoke to her in a voice that pretended to be warm, but sounded tired and somewhat defeated.

"Hello Arya. What do you need ehm? You are respecting your sister Sansa in her rule of the castle, right?" her father's weary grin seemed to indicate that the last thing he wanted to know now, was new arguments between her and her sister Sansa.

'Fortunately I have come for something else. One thing that will save him from worrying about the relationship between Sansa and me.' Arya thought as she made the biggest puppy eyes and the most tender face she was capable of make.

"Father you have to let me go with Jon. Bran is going with him, Sansa now runs the castle and Robb looks like your shadow since the night Aunt Lya came back. If I go with them there will be less risk of someone finding out what happened that night and also there will be no arguments or fights between Sansa and me. Besides... You know that one way or another I would end up finding Jon, even if I had to do like Aunt Lyanna and run away to look for him." Arya began in a pleading tone, but at the end, she practically came up with an ultimatum.

'That was not the strategy Arya.' cursed inwardly when she saw her father change his until then resigned expression, for one that now conveyed sorrow, pain and acceptance. However, after letting out a long sigh, he gazed into her eyes fondly as he put his left hand over her nape.

"I guess I have no other choice, right?" Her father voice sound half broken, trying to convince her

that she had to stay, at least for him.

'But father has Sansa, Robb and Rickon. Even though the little wolf is the most confused of the whole family, and now seemed to cling to the skirts of Sansa as if she were his mother. Jon even if he has his mother and father, hardly knows them. He will need me by his side!! Nobody knows him better than me!!' the thought that it was not only for her, but also for the good of Jon, made Arya increase her resolve in defying her father, although deep down Arya was sorry to see him suffer.

"If you don't let me go with them now, I'll find a way to do it !! Why can't I ever have anything I want?" Arya said practically squealing and in a shrill voice. Her father stared at her for a few seconds, until suddenly he sighed and with his Great Lord voice answered her. "If you promise me in fornt of the Godswood's Heart tree for your honor as Stark that you will listen to your cousin, swearing to obey him in everything he tells you, while you promise me that you will take care of your brother Bran, I will try to convince Jon."

The phrase came out to Arya's father as if he had already practiced it before hand. 'Would my father know that I was coming to ask him this? It has been much easier than I expected.' trying not to miss the opportunity that presented itself, Arya responded quickly, with an excited and grateful voice to her father.

"Yes father, I will swear in front of the Weirwood and on my Stark honor. I will not cause any problems and I will see that Bran does not do stupid things." she said without being able to stop nodding her head affirmatively, while hugging her father with all her might.

"Very well. Talk to your cousin and your aunt about making a place for you, Arya." her father said. Before she could think further, her father grabbed Arya's chin and made her eyes fix on his.

"What are our words Arya?" her father questioned Arya. She had no doubt what he meant, so in her most solemn voice, she spoke the motto of her house.

"Winter is Coming." Arya's father was nodding, while letting out the first half smile she had seen from him in the last two days.

'Is he proud of me?' thinking about it, her chest swelled with pride.

"Do you know why it is important to remember them?" asked her father raising an eyebrow.

"Because you always have to be prepared for bad things?" she replied, trying to sound convincing. 'Winter it is always a time of hardship, so you have to be prepared for it.'

Her father's sudden laugh and the warm that appeared in his eyes, made Arya's heart so happy. 'Now I feel less guilty for asking him to go with Jon, Bran and Aunt Lya.'

"Ha ... in a way yes, but not only because of that" her father said in a tender way, implying that he was going to explain the true meaning behind their words.

"Remember Arya, in winter when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for fights. In winter, we must protect each other, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would really harm us. Your mother is your mother, no matter how much harm she did in the past, that shouldn't change who she is to you. It may have been shown that she had political interests in mind, more than the family well-being, being as different as the sun and the moon from you. But the same blood flows through both hearts. Do not forget. In the same way your cousin Aegon has your same blood, and you need him, as he needs you ...Gods help me... you have to promise me that you won't let Jon do

anything stupid." The end of her father's speech sounded tired and shaky, making Arya sad.

"I don't hate mother" she told him. "Not really. But I'm ashamed of her." It was only half a lie. Her father seemed to have aged years in the last two days, the last thing Arya wanted was to add more guilty to his regrets.

"Father, can I go tell Jon, Bran, and Aunt Lya that I'm going with them? They must be training in the north courtyard, near the remains of the First Keep." she said in a vibrant, rhythmic voice.

"Yes. Go tell your cousin that you are going with him, but first, stop by your room and pack changes of clothes necessary for two moons in a bag. Even though your sewing is poor, you are going to have to learn to live with the clothes you have at your disposal for a while." her father said in a serious and imperative voice. Before she could answer him anything, he grabbed from her shoulders and began to stare at her. Her father's face was serious, tired and his eyes reflected concern.

"You are going first to the Wall and then to Essos. You will meet many different types of people. You will know many different cultures..." before the emotion that Arya was beginning to show for what she was hearing awaited her, her father looked at her intensely and withering, calming her instantly.

With a dry, threatening and harsh tone he said. "I tell you the same thing I said to your brother Bran when he made his oaths to be a squire for his uncle and his cousin. You will no longer be sheltered as you have been all your life in Winterfell. Be suspicious of anyone who does not show you good reasons to trust him, and even so, never trust completely in anyone who is not from your family. And above all, always remember who you are. You are Arya Stark, from Winterfell, you have the North in your blood child, and if your cousin is right in relation to the prophetic dreams of the Targaryen family, now more than ever you will have to be prepared for Winter." father finished in a way, that gave Arya chills down her spine.

After having done what Arya's father had commanded, she headed towards the north courtyard, where apart from telling them the good news that she could go with them if they wanted, Arya wanted to see the two Last Dragons spar. One of them was her brother, because it didn't matter if Jon was a Targaryen, or that his father really was Arya's uncle. All that did not matter to Arya. Even if his name was Aegon... 'How original... seven Targaryens named like that... they could use another name'. For her he was always going to be Jon.

Although she had to admit that, since whatever have happened to him that night down the Crypts, sometimes Jon seemed different. He had become even more withdrawn if possible, observing everything and everyone. Sometimes it seemed as if Jon was absent, but was instantly able to be aware of everything around him. His words, gestures, and actions had a confidence in himself that she didn't know Jon might be capable of. His gaze, which now had its purple streaks more marked, shone like never before, seeming to pierce the eyes of those on whom it rested. When Jon spoke, you felt compelled to listen to him.

'This new Jon is less melancholic, but colder.' she mused.

And it wasn't just a personality change. Only two days after losing all the hair on his body, a silver fuzz was beginning to grow, where Jon's dark hair had been before. But that did not matter to Arya either.

'It's sure part of the ritual he was involved in. That he has Valyrian hair does not transform him into another person.' she convinced herself.

She ran to where Nymeria was waiting for her in the guard room at the foot of the stairs. The she- wolf stood up as soon as saw Arya, at which she smiled. The wolf pup loved her, even though no one else did, except for her father and her brother Jon. She and her she-wolf went everywhere together, and Nymeria slept in her room at the foot of her bed.

Nymeria eagerly bit her hand when Arya untied the she-wolf. The still small pup had yellow eyes and when they caught sunlight, they shone like two gold coins. Arya had named her for the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, who had led her people across the Narrow Sea fleeing the domain of the former Freehold. What had been a huge scandal for Sansa, who of course, had named her she-pup Lady. Arya winced at the memory and hugged her wolf tightly. She licked her ear and Arya laughed.

"Come." she whispered to Nymeria. Then, she got up and ran, her she-wolf on her heels.

Below the covered bridge between the armory and the great fortress one had a great view of the

entire north courtyard. That was where she and Nymeria were headed.

She and her she-wolf, came out of breath when they find Jon donning all his armor, sitting on a wooden box on the side of which was Blackfyre and a cloth resting against the wall. Arya found Jon with the right leg stretched upwards, where he leaned languidly his chin. Arya's brother was watching the action between his mother and father so absorbed that he seemed not to notice Arya's appearance or Nymeria's. Furthermore, he was as if conversing with himself, in the strange language he sometimes spoke since the night he appeared in his incredible Valyrian-steel armor in the Great Hall.

"Gaomi daor emagon zaldrīzoti iā mandia iā hāedar, yn īlon mazvēttan se tymptir. Ao se nyke gīmigon skorkydoso se vīlībāzma kostagon tymagon, se skorkydoso naejot vīlībagon ziry. Se kȳvanon kessa mirre [1]" Jon seemed to say to himself as if he were trying to self-convincing.

When her she-wolf approached her brother's white wolf, this one moved to meet her.Nymeria moved closer to Ghost, now almost the largest of the littermates, first smelled her she-wolf, then gave her neck a a loving nibble, and finally both wolfs settled one over the other.

Jon who noticed her presence looked at her curiously. "Shouldn't you be working on your seams, little sister?" he said in a mocking voice full of warmth.

Arya made a face at him, then began to explain her presence, almost squealing. "I wanted to see you and your father fight and tell you something important, Jon."

Her brother smiled, a smile that reached Jon's eyes, transforming his now typical cold and vibrant gaze, into one full of warm and sweetnes. "When my mother and Rhaegar are done, you'll see. In the meantime why don't you join me while I watch them train? By the way, I would rather you call me Aegon or Egg if we're in private, though, when we're just with family you can call me Jon. But remember. The less that is known about my past when I leave Winterfell, the better. The situation is already quite complex, accompanied by two people who should not even be among the living, not including me in this, and Bran plus three Direwolves. Well, three if you don't want to come with us... If you want to come there would be four direwolves..." After starting with a solemn, cold and resigned tone, he ended with a sly voice, as if expecting a negative answer from her.

Arya could only throw herself into hugging him with all her might. She thought she would have to beg him and convince him that even Arya's father Lord Eddard had allowed her to go if she

behaved well. She climbed onto the box and after the bear hug, she sat next to him, A chorus of thumps and grunts echoed through the courtyard, which was deserted except for her, Jon, the two sparring partners, and her brother Bran. This one was supposedly acting as a squire 'Although I would rather say that he is doing the same as me and Jon. Look at them spar.'

Focusing on the spar, Arya could see that her aunt barely make her husband uncomfortable. But for a woman, she was incredibly good. The previous two afternoons, when Arya had also come to watch them practice, her aunt more than once practiced it with her. And Rhaegar insisted that Arya was a match more than enough for Bran to practice the new skills he was teaching her, sometimes stupid, little brother.

"I was also just coming to tell you that my father would let me go with you if you and Aunt Lya agreed, but I'm going to need a sword if I'm accompany you!! I can be part of your new Kingsguard, like Bran in the future!!" Arya said excitedly and Jon looked at her with all the wisdom he suddenly seemed to have.

"You are too thin, you lack strength and muscle. Visenya was such a good warrior because since she had four days of the name was practicing and strengthening herself to be able to wield castle steel, or in her case Dark Sister." Jon said while taking her arm to feel her muscle. Then Jon sighed and shook his head. "I doubt you can even lift a longsword, little sister, I won't mention trying to wield one of them at someone. Practice swords are one thing, castle steel quite another."

Arya snatched her arm of her brother's grip and glared at him. Jon seemed unfazed by this, and began to tangle her hair again while sepaking to her in warmth voice "However I know a type of sword that you can not only lift, but also wield." He looked at her silently with his dark silvery purple eyes, which seemed to sparkle. "That's why I have something for you to always carry with you."

"A present?" Arya said in a shrill voice.

"You could call it that." Jon said exultantly and happy with himself. A big smile lit up his face as he reached down to the side of the box to grab the cloth, which he then handed to her. Arya's eyes widened. Dark eyes, like her brother's, except for the purple streaks and indigo.

"A sword." Arya said in a small, silent breath, almost reverential. The scabbard was soft, supple gray leather. Jon drew the blade out slowly, so that she could see the deep blue glow of castle steel.

"This is not a toy." Jon told her. "Be careful not to cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave."

"Girls don't shave, and neither do you." Arya said jokingly.

"Maybe they should. Have you ever seen your septa's legs?" Jon replied scathingly, to which she couldn't help but laugh.

Looking at Arya's new sword, she now realized that it was not only shorter than a normal longsword, it was also much thinner and had a hilt designed for her. "This sword is not going to cut anyone in half. It is very thin." Arya said half complaining.

"You too." Jon told him. "I had Mikken make this especially for you based on models I saw during the Dragon's campaigns in Essos. The Braavosi use swords like these to practice the so-called Water Dance. Likewise, these types of swords also abound in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't cut off a man's head, but it can leave a hole in him if you're fast enough."

"I can be fast" responded Arya excitedly.

"You will have to work on it every day." He put the sword in her hands, showing her how to hold it, and stepped back.

"How does it feel? Do you like the balance?" Jon asked in a tremulous and doubtful voice.

"I think so." Arya said.

"First lesson," Jon said solemnly and seriously. "Hit them with the pointed end."

Arya hit him on the arm with the plane of her sword, to which Jon responded by grinning like an idiot.

"I know which end to use, stupid." Arya said. A dubious look crossed her "Who will I practice with?"

"When I can, I will training you personally, but I think my mother and Bran could be good sparring partners. Besides, Rhaegar has given my mother a practically identical sword." Jon promised, suddenly staring into space, his body as dejected and with a weight that could not support.

"I wish none of this was happening ..." Suddenly, it seemed that her brother was going to cry, while muttering with infinite sadness. Arya moved quickly towards him to give him a big hug.

"Put down your sword first." Jon warned her, suddenly turning his sudden sadness into a huge smile. She put her sword aside almost shyly and showered him in kisses.

"I almost forgot." he told her in a suggestive voice. "All the best swords have names."

"Like ICE or BLACKFYRE? " She said as her brother nod while looking at the blade in her hand.

"Does this one have a name? Oh tell me!" she implored.

"Can't you guess?" Jon joked. "Your favorite thing in this world."

At first it puzzled her 'He must be being ironic.' she mused inwardly. Then she quickly fell on the name, that they said it at the same time.

"Needle!" Both fell into laughter that caught the attention from Arya's uncle and aunt, whom stopped their spar to go where she and Jon were.

Her Aunt Lya was wearing leather riding breeches and boots from when she was still living in Winterfell and a black embossed leather breastplate, which, like the leather bracelets and gray camisole she wore under her breastplate, once belonged to Jon. Jon's father, Rhaegar, was also fully dressed in Jon's clothing and leather complements, from which had the Stark sigils removed.

'Since Jon always liked to wear black or dark gray, you can see that uncle is comfortable in those colors.'

Personally Arya preferred to see her uncle dressed like this rather than like the first night.

'It was very strange to see a Targaryen, with that silver platinum hair, dressed in the clothes of father and Robb.' Arya thought, as she saw how her aunt still was panting from the effort she made duing the spar, with red cheeks and locks of her long braided raven hair stuck to her face from sweat. Arya's uncle was also a little breathless and showed signs of having exercised his body, but he did not appear to be nearly as tired as her aunt.

'It seems that Jon is right about wielding a long sword. My aunt is taller and stronger than me and yet she is hardly a match for her husband with a sword similar to the one Jon has given me.' Arya reflected.

She was pulled from her internal thoughts by her uncle Rhaegar. "Arya, we have something to tell you. Your aunt Lya, Aegon and I have reached an agreement on your new status when you are with us...If you want to come, of course." The once Silver Prince said in a conspiratorial way as he looked at his son, wearing a smile that reached his dark indigo eyes. Meanwhile her aunt Lya motioned for Bran to come closer to them before setting her sword and breastplate next to the box where Jon was sitting.

'Status? Don't tell me that the condition that I go with them is that they call me my lady... ' Arya began to frown and look suspiciously at her uncle.

"Easy there Arya!! The three of us know how much you hate the title of lady... that's why you will never have to use it again!" her Aunt Lyanna intoned in a sweet, energetic voice. Arya was about to go hug her aunt when Jon grabbed her shoulder, stopping her short and turning her to face him.

He began to look into Arya's eyes with some doubt but with complicity "Arya, as I consider you my sister, and I hope that you consider me your brother, from today you are Arya Stark, Princess of Westeros and Winter's Princess. The same titles that my mother holds. What do you think?"

The way Jon spoke to her seemed to ask her to be happy with her new titles and station. Arya didn't really know how to react. On one hand, she did not like titles at all, much less being referred with deference

'However, these are the same titles as my aunt has and she unhorsed three Knigths and does not seem to mind the idea of being called Excellence or Princess. Maybe sometimes you have to give in on some things to have others.'

"I like it. Thank you." Arya said briefly but warmly as she went to hug Jon. She knew that what Jon was doing was of great importance.

'When we return to Westeros and Jon sits on the Iron Throne, I will be a princess and I will be by his side protecting him as father asked me.'

Without Arya knowing very well why, Jon shuddered away from her embrace, his expressions changing to ones of disbelief and concern. She was not the only one who noticed the abrupt change in her brother's behavior, as her aunt Lya put a hand on Jon's shoulder, taking an interest in her son.

"Aegon, what is it? What's happening to you?" Jon's mother asked with concern and wonder.

Jon seemed to not understand exactly what was happening to him, but his expression was beginning to reflect panic. With a questioning and concerned look, Jon turned to his father. "Rhaegar, do you feel like a tightness in your chest? Do you feel like heat rushing throughout your body? As a ball of heat compressing from the inside? " Jon's tone was fast-paced and urgent.

Rhaegar frowned before answer the question raised by his son. "I've been feeling something like that since I appeared in the crypts, what is it? What's up?" her uncle's voice rang with some alarm.

"Is it more intense now than that night?" Jon asked almost fearfully. Arya's brother body attitude was now a ball of badly contained nerves.

"Yes, Why it's that?" Rhaegar answered his son questioningly.

Instead of calming down, Jon became even worse and began to mutter something unintelligible to anyone present, showing despair in his eyes.

"It can't be, by all the gods it can't be. Seven times curse you Senya..." Jon began to exclaim practically desperate.

Arya and her brother Bran didn't quite understand what was happening, but her aunt Lyanna was beginning to have a worried look on her face after hearing the name of the Conqueror's sister

"Don't tell me that the effects of the ritual are wearing off and we're going to die again ...?" the broken and trembling voice of her aunt worried Arya immediately.

'It's true!! Visenya did the ritual. Is this that Jon and Rhaegar are feeling something related with the ritual, would they die again? It can't be. No ...' Arya began to fear internally for her brother's life.

"Easy mother, and you too Arya. We are not going to die again unless, gods forbid, someone kill us... no... maybe I have reacted in a bad way. Look at the sky in a southeastern direction..." Jon said now much calmer, with a firm and enigmatic voice while he stood up to his full height and directed his gaze where he had indicated. Like him, she, her brother, her aunt and her uncle began to do the same.

At first Arya did not see anything, only the sky painted with the orange and yellow tones, which the sun leaves before setting, while casting its last rays through the clouds, towards Wolf's Wood. Fixing her eyes better, she was able to see what looked like eagles in the distance.

Eagles that got bigger and bigger the closer they got in a straight line towards the castle, as if it was calling them. Before Arya could understand why those birds, which were definitely not eagles because of their monstrous size, were heading towards where they were standing, a deafening roar shook the North, practically making her ears bleed.

It was her brother Bran, whose eyes were about to pop out of their sockets and with his mouth wide open, who said what Arya's eyes were beginning to distinguish clearly, but that she could not believe.

"Those ar...are...Dra ... Dra ... Dragons !!!" her brother Bran tried to say, but it was practically a hesitant stammer. She froze listening to him, as she felt her heart pound in her chest.

Suddenly, there were three shrill shrieks. Arya stretched her neck as far as she could and finally saw them clearly, approaching at great speed and getting bigger and bigger before her eyes. Three gigantic dragons flying side by side in the northern sunset sky.

The one in the middle of the three was gigantic, the largest creature Arya had ever seen. As dark as night, it looked like a monstrous flying shadow. The smallest of the three, possibly as large as the Great Keep, was a mixture of orange and yellowish colors, blending in with the reflections of the setting sun. The third dragon was bigger than the yellowish one, but considerably smaller than the black one. Its silver scales reflected rays of light, causing it to be dazzled when staring at it.

The black dragon released another earth-splitting roar that was answered by roars from the other two dragons. Arya couldn't take her eyes off them. They were beautiful, magnificent and absolutely fascinating. She watched as they flew over the Wolf's Wood, covering the forest and everything else under the shadow of their wings. They did not carry any Dragonrider on theirs backs, only huge iron chains at the base of their serpentine necks, which would surely serve as a saddle. Arya watched them as they flew over Winterfell and Wintertown, plunging them into utter

darkness, ending with two of them descending just outside the castle on the other side of the north courtyard, shaking the foundations of the castle by doing so.

The third, the gigantic black one, circled the castle once more and let out a chilling roar accompanied by a blaze of dark black fire that climbed high in to the sky. 'A flame just like the one that pulverized the First Keep two nights ago' thought suddenly when she saw that dark shot of flame.

With no time to really process anything, the black dragon settled heavily on the remains of the north wall, where the entrance to the First Keep would once rise. Arya had to bend her neck back to be able to look up at the huge snout of the gigantic dragon.

"Balerion ..." Jon said reverently.

At that moment everyone present, except for Jon, had a shudder in their body and fell back to the safety that the arch of the armory bridge might offer. Jon, on the other hand, seemed as if he was drawn to the magic that even Arya could feel exuded from the mythical dragon.

Arya's brother began to advance towardsThe Black Dread with determination and confidence. When he was less than thirty paces from the dragon, it lowered its neck and snout to bring it up to Jon's level. Balerion's eyes, which looked like molten lava, fell on Jon and he reached with his hand out to the huge muzzle and laid it calmly, beginning to speak sweetly and singly in that strange language he now spoke sometimes, as if it were commonplace everything that was happening.

"For the old and new gods, Rhaegar do something! That beast is going to devour our son in front of us!" Her aunt Lya exclaimed, who was pale. Her husband, on the other hand, seemed fascinated with what he was witnessing, just like Bran, and only the cry of his wife brought him out of the reverie in which he was immersed.

"Lya , What do you want me to do? They called me the Last Dragon, but I have no idea how to interact with a dragon and much less can I claim how these three got here! I don't even know if it really is Balerion...if it is, the chronicles and descriptions of the Maesters did not do it justice. What a magnificent creature!" Rhaegar answered in an excited, high and melodious voice to Arya's aunt Lya, showing that he had more astonishment and disbelief at the situation, than concern about what might happen to his son. Bran nodded at Rhaegar's every word as if he signed them himself, then turned his gaze back to Jon and The Black Dread.

When Arya turned at the sound of a murmur at her back, she saw that without them noticing, much of the servants, guards and the entire family except her mother, were behind her. The vast majority were terrified, their eyes darting between the gigantic dragon, Jon, her uncle Rhaegar, and her aunt Lya. Arya's father, who had also appeared there, looked like he was seeing one of the Others. Robb was totally pale, and Maester Luwin looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth nonstop. Her sister Sansa had a mixture of disbelief, fear and fascination

'I see that we have something in common. After all, a lot of the stories she likes are related to the Targaryens. What's more Targaryen than the fucking Black Dread in flesh and fire?' Arya thought with a certain inner satisfaction at seeing Sansa in such an unrefined state. When she turned her gaze towards Jon, Arya saw how Jon had climbed on top of one of the protruding horns that protruded from the enormous head of the dragon, which rose about five meters from the ground causing the general murmur among the recently gathered.

"Silence!" Jon exclaimed, in a call echoed by Balerion's deafening roar. Arya's brother fearsome mount, twisted its neck so that its head better admit the weight of her brother, who at that time gave the impression of being someone out of legends or songs.

As Jon requested ... 'ordered rather' the people fell silent, all staring at the figure of her brother who had one hand wielding Blackfyre which he had drawn, and the other clutching one of Balerion's horns against which tightened.

"My name" began to say Jon in a voice as loud and clear as she had never heard him "is Aegon Targaryen, the Dragon Reborn and sooner or later I will regain what is rightfully mine. To those who oppose me or the Stark family, I will teach the meaning of the words of house Targaryen." Jon proclaimed sharply and menacingly.

"But as long as the North and its people do not meddle in affairs south of the Neck, no one should fear for their safety. On the contrary, they will have my support to defend them." He declared this time in a persuasive and friendly tone.

Before Arya could react, everyone present, including her father, her brother Robb, her sister, her uncle, her aunt, and her brother Bran, even little Rickon, dropped to their knees and paid respect to their King. Only she remained standing, to which Jon gave her a knowing smile, while raising an eyebrow gracefully. She replied almost laughing, with a bad courtesy of the head.

'My brother has my undying loyalty. He doesn't need me to kneel before him. I am the Princess of Winter.'