The March to War Begins

She can't believe it's really happening, after almost a month and a half just as Rodrik said to her. She will finally lay her eyes back on her home, Winterfell and the North.

Rodrik and his company had returned with one half of the called banners, she hadn't even realized until she saw eight to nine thousand soldiers camping themselves at the mouth of the Eyrie. She hurried to send ravens to her uncle and sister, to tell them gather as many men as they can gather.

That was one month after Rodrik came back with his army, and ravens from Arya told her that they already have twenty thousand men, with every Riverlander House bending their knees back to her House. Even during Robb's War the full strength of the Riverlands could have numbered to thirty thousand men and before the war all together could have brought close to forty-five thousand just as the Vale could.

The Lannister's from news are too busy with an extremist group following the new High Septon, Sparrow is all he is called. This means her sister, uncle and Sandor went unchallenged as they retook all of the holds from Lannister control. The downside is they will have to leave ten thousand south to defend their backs and protect their lands. Still, this means nineteen thousand men will be marching North, and combined with the Northern Lords on their side and the Moat being held by Lord Reed? Victory is assured.

"Ser Brynden is coming with your sister, at the Bloody Gate. You should be getting ready to meet them." She heard her handmaiden insist and she nodded before finishing in letting her dress her, a northern dress of her design with a wolf running across the neck. She made it in the memory of her Lady that she hasn't seen in so many years, if she is still alive.

After she was finished she had some of her things brought with her, then came the meeting with Rodrik and Waymar and Ser Orion, along with Lady Anya and her son, Lord Belmore and Ser Edmund Waxley. The army will assemble and march out the gate shortly after their meeting, but what she wondered what was the meeting for? Strategy is the best assumption.

"It will be quite strange, isn't it?" She heard Rodrik say and she turned and saw his face, it wasn't stern or ready but nervous.

"Why? What're you so worried for?" She asked him and he shifted in his horse, he's acting like a boy.

"I wonder if Brynden and Edmure will want to kill me or torture me, for what had to be done with Robert and Lysa... " He uttered softly and she widened her eyes.

Yes, will they? She has no idea how these meetings will go. Her uncle Edmure wont be there but Brynden will, and from her one time meeting with the man when she was five, she doesn't see this meeting being so friendly. Then again even she hasn't fully forgiven him, despite knowing why from their talk that night and when she cried into his arms to go home.

"Act like a King, I doubt that will happen... "

And it did.

Not even a moment into the meeting her uncle Brynden floored Rodrik onto the ground when it seemed they were going to shake hands, fortunate that's all that had happened because their goals and enemies are the same for the time being. Brynden did however help Rodrik to his feet and said that under different circumstances then there would be deadly outcomes, but he did protect her and Arya, helped them and made them strong.

Rodrik had agreed and so the talks began.

"Now I have brought us together to begin strategizing our moves, Where the forces of the Vale and Riverlands will go. Come." He nodded for everyone to gather near the table, a map of the North in from of them from the Neck to right Beyond the Wall. "The Barowland Houses have sworn themselves to Roose Bolton, a force can march there to bring them to heel. In the West the remaining Frey and the bulk of the Bolton Army camps, nearing Winterfell where another force will go. Now to the Northwest, House Whitehill and contingent of Bolton soldiers march to meet House Forrester and House Glover." She watched firsthand actual battle formations being made, now all that's to do is to decide who goes where, then there is the dragon.

"I can take the Barrowlands. House Ryswell and House Dustin should be easy." Her uncle Brynden said, Rodrik nodded. "Afterwards I can split my 10,000 men and have five march with you going to Winterfell. What of the Northern forces with us?" She could answer this since she has been exchanging ravens with all of her loyal lords.

"They are camped near Long Lake, close to four thousand. Though they are not as elite as what Robb brought north, but they are Northern despite this. Lord Jon's son is leading them for me." She added in and with a smile of proudness. Rodrik nudged her and looked proud and Brynden gave her a nod, Arya pitched in with her own words.

"What about me? I lead the Brotherhood. I want to be apart of this." She laughed a little at her sisters insistence. The other lords and Rodrik did the same.

She was curious as to why her sister didn't kill the leaders of the Brotherhood or Sandor with them on her 'list'. She asked this, and her sister said she removed them when she saw them fighting for her family, being selfless earned them her sisters respect and friendship, that and something about hearing of a bastard escaping King Stannis, whatever that means. Yes, her sister had grown since the start of this journey of leaving home and she can honestly say it is good for the young Princess. She's also glad her sister found her wolf, friends united.

"Just as you said, little sister. The Brotherhood and Sandor follow you, you command them." She told her sister and Arya almost shed a tear at her acknowledgement, jumping into her arms and holding her tightly. Arya looked up to her and asked a surprising question.

"What about Jon?"

Jon Snow. Her half brother and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. The last raven she received from him was that he was going north, to find the last of the Wildlings so that he may bring them back across. She doesn't want that to happen because it might harm her goodwill with the families of the North that have fought Wildlings over the last few thousand years, but sending a raven to stop him would be pointless because he might already be gone. Jon is putting himself in a dangerous situation with trusting the wild ones, but she hopes he survives.

"He wont be participating in the battles to come, but I am sure he doing good work as he always did. If only I had seen his potential and was more kinder." She was serious, if only she hadn't been so terrible to him and instead treated like a real brother, just as she had done to Robb, Bran and Rickon. Arya nodded and pulled away and went by her side. Now with the battle plans made, she turned back to Rodrik, "What about your new ally? The Dragon." She uttered and Arya looked surprised, Brynden looked shocked and Rodrik and his banner-men gave smiles of pride.

"Ah Yes." Rodrik sighed with a hand brushing away some of his hair, "He be used to crush Bolton resolve, to break their soul. Yes, Sheapstealer will burn the traitors legacy to the ground."

In the five days the forces of the Vale joined together with that of the Riverlands and 18,000 men marched with haste upon foot and horse with siege weapons in tow. She went and spoke to Rodrik about his decision to take a thousand riders and go by ship, passing the Three Sisters and going to the eastern side of the North, from their it is unknown where he will be going.

Lord Yohn and Lady Anya's son and Ser Waxley have been given the command of the cavalry, infantry and bowmen. Arya and her 800 men will be the scouting forces, attacking weak points and demoralizing Bolton supply of either weapons and food. On the Rivelander side of things she and her uncle are primary leaders, Lord Blackwood leading the Vanguard with a freed GreatJon Umber, bowmen will be left to Lord Mallister, infantry is going to be left with her uncle and cavalry is in Lord William Mooton.

The strategies are made and all that's left is to go home and take it from those who have it, the Bolton tricks wont work this time and no weddings to hide blades behind smiles.