A/N: I was scrolling through my social media when I came across a link titled 'this Game of Thrones tribute to See You Again will make you emotional' and I clinked on it... And it did. I was emotional. And because I was emotional, I wrote this little thing because these two need to reunite, it's a thing that needs to happen. If it does, I swear I'll cry. Happy tears. But I'll cry.

With that said, please read and review and remember that these characters are not mine.

See You Again

The ground crunches beneath her shoes, her hair is pulled back in a braid and protected from the savage winter winds. She hasn't seen her home in three years, and her heart starts to hammer in her chest the closer she gets to it. When she sees it on the horizon, she can't breathe. The crushing weight of the memories she would have rather forgotten, press against her chest and constrict her windpipe. It stands tall and proud, just as she remembers it. Though, she knows it will be silent save for the whispers of the winter winds and the echoes of a time she longs to embrace once more.

Though, those memories are lost within her past, lost within her inability to name herself. She is not Arry or Weasel, she is not the Ghost of Harrenhal or Cat of the Canals or Mercy, she is not Blind Beth or Nymeria, she is not even No One. She has been playing a part for three years, and the real girl is buried somewhere beneath all of the pain and the anger, because that girl is someone she lost the day her father lost his head.

She is close now, so close to the one place she has always longed for, that she can feel the excitement ripple through her skin. The skin drenched in the blood of her enemies. And when she gets there, she stands there. Stands in the archway to Winterfell and it feels wrong to enter such a place when her heart cannot decide who she is. From behind her, she hears the treading of paws and she turns, watching as Nymeria edges up beside her. The direwolf brushes her face against this lost little girl's palm and trots past into the courtyard. Her ears flicker forward and her tail begins to wag. She glances back towards the girl and then a white streak bounds across the courtyard and two direwolves reminisce with yips and yaps and playful nudges.

The girl is still as stone. In the distance there is a voice calling to the pale wolf, a voice so familiar. "Ghost!" it says, firmly at first, then the name loses its harshness, giving way to disbelief. She can almost feel the breath of incredulousness on his lips as they breathe out the name of her own four footed companion.

Then she's inside. She's standing inside Winterfell and he's standing there, dressed in the black leathers of the Night's Watch, though something about them makes her wonder if he still follows their creed. But, she can't hardly grasp any sort of thought because the next thing she knows, she's running. And then her arms are around him, tight around his neck and her face is pressed against the crook of his shoulder.

And her little body is an earthquake. Her fingers wind into his fur cloak, body hiccuping with sobs she didn't know she wanted to cry. He's holding her, his arms firm around her little body and she swears she can feel wetness against her own shoulder. His name falls from her lips, a broken whimper. She thought she was strong. She never expected to break. But, she thinks, as he lets out a calming noise, there are worse people to break down in front of than Jon.

Jon. The truth of the experience hits harder and she is sucking in grief stricken breaths as her hold tightens on him. She is so afraid that this is a dream, that she will wake up within moments back in Braavos and she will just be Mercy again.

He sets her down gently, kneeling before her. Her knuckles are white from holding onto him and it takes him a few moments to pry her back from him so he can look at her. He wipes the tears from her face in a gentle way and she wants to cry again, but she sniffles and holds it in. "I missed you," he says and she can see the way his eyes mist and tears collect.

She chokes on a small smile, nodding. "I missed you too," she manages and he hugs her again. As she hugs him back, the little sword at her belt shifts and she murmurs, "Stick 'em with the pointy end…" And she even allows a tiny smile when he chuckles.

For three years she wished to be a wolf. She wished for the wolf dreams to come true, she wished to never wake up from them. Every time she wished it, she would wake up. She would wake up and be a detached someone in a body that no longer belonged to her.

But, for the first time in three years, in the arms of her brother, Arya Stark is home and she is free.