Sansa was waiting impatiently for her when she finally left her room, looking just as put together as she always did, despite the late hour. The only indication that she'd been roused from her own slumber was that her glowing red hair hung loose and unadorned around her delicate face.

Arya's own hair had been loosened the rest of the way from its braid and hung in somewhat messy dark waves around her features, softening her normally severe edge and highlighting her femininity. The lingering flush from her recent activities helped add to that softness, though that was as far as it went. The rest of her was wrapped in her normal fitted breeches and a plain grey tunic. Her sword hung in its normal spot upon her hip, and her newest dagger had been added opposite it and had quickly become a familiar weight. Both were hidden from sight by the warm black cloak she'd thrown on at the last second, honestly still reacclimating to the biting cold of her homeland. She may have the North in her blood, but it'd been so long since she'd been home- first in the balmy South and then soaking up the Eastern sun- that the snow felt almost foreign upon the fading color of her flesh.

She didn't see him when they arrived at their destination, not at first, or perhaps she wasn't ready to let herself look upon him, but her eyes were instead drawn to the edges of the room, where the danger was most likely to be present. The room wasn't as packed as one might expected the homecoming of the King in the North to be, thanks in part to the late hour, and Jon's desire to return quietly, but it was still fairly full regardless.

When her eyes did finally rest upon him, she felt almost detached from the scene before her, realizing then that she herself had faded into the back wall and was acting as an observer rather than a participant in the family reunion. Sansa had immediately strode confidently forward, and Arya was a little surprised to see her hug the brother she'd so disdained as a child. They both looked happy to be reunited, and Arya silently reminded herself that she wasn't the only one to change, that she shouldn't hold onto expectations long past and rather be ready for anything that might occur.

Bran was wheeled in then. His eyes moved sideways to glance at her form swallowed in the shadows, but he didn't call her out. Grey eyes followed the scene as Jon swallowed thickly enough to be visible to her keen eyes and bowed over to embrace his young brother, uncaring to maintain his Kingly Grace. She didn't think Bran was going to respond, not at first, but just when she thought Jon was going to pull back a slender, pale, hand reached out to softly cup the back of the chaotic mass of dark curls, so like her own.

'It's so good to see you,' she read on Jon's lips, though she couldn't hear the quiet words from her spot. Only when Jon rose back to his full height did he frown, eyes scanning the room hopefully. She didn't think he'd spot her, wasn't sure if she even wanted him to. Seeing him again, not just as her favorite bastard brother, but as the King in the North, the man who'd taken a stand and forsaken his own vows to avenge their family and their honor- everything suddenly felt so real, so final. A small part of her (one she hadn't realized still existed) felt shamed that she'd stayed away for so long when she could have been helping. She hadn't though, she'd stayed in Braavos for years, she'd shed her name, and her face, and her lineage in her service to the House of Black and White.

Here and now, standing in the cold stone room, she knew everything was about to change. She knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that as soon as she stepped forward into the light, she'd truly be Arya Stark once more. She'd no longer one of the nameless, faceless brethren that worshiped He of Many Faces, but a daughter of the Stark Family, sister to the King, Princess of the Northernmost Territories.

Suddenly a part of her wanted to back out of the room, flee Winterfell altogether. Perhaps join Jaqen on whatever mission brought him back to Westeros? Anything felt easier than stepping forward, than breaking free of the shadows once and for all. It was silly and childish, she knew, for she'd already been back for weeks. The people had seen her, they knew both Stark Daughters had returned home, and so in truth she'd already left the safety of the darkness, but this felt different. It felt more final, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face life with a name, and titles, and expectations as a Stark Lady once again.

The choice was taken from her hands then, as grey eyes locked on grey. It was almost as if his were drawn to her own, because he locked onto her with an accuracy that shouldn't have been possible. Her name was on his lips, familiar and yet silent. Suddenly she wanted to hear it in truth, rather than reading it. She took a step forward despite herself, and then another. Jon began moving towards her, faster than she herself was moving. Before she truly comprehended what was happening, his strong arms wrapped around her slender frame and squeezed her for all he was worth.

Her own arms came to wrap around his neck on reflex, though she was still staring somewhat blankly at the floor over his shoulder as he lifted her feet clear off the ground in his exuberance. He spun her once, twice, thrice, before he feet touched the floor once again. Her hands came to rest on his broad shoulders as his strong hands came to cup her face. "Arya," He whispered, voice thick, raspy and almost broken sounding as he stuttered over her name. "Gods, Arya," He said again, pressing his wind chapped lips against the side of her head as he embraced her again.

He seemed both smaller and larger than he had when they'd said their goodbyes so many years before. He had lines settling into his flesh, aging him beyond his years, and held himself with the bearing of someone under tremendous pressure. Even so, he was her brother, and his warm familiarity was starting to break through the haze she was still feeling. He still smelled the same, like snow and iron and leather. She breathed in deeper, the scent memory helping to break through the haze. He finally pulled back, dropping his hands to wrap one strong arm around her back to rest on her shoulder. She tensed initially, always weary of what she couldn't see, but forced down the inherent jumpiness that resulted from such a gesture.

Feeling somewhat more aware of herself, Arya glanced around the rest of the room. Her eyes immediately fell to the woman with long white blond hair and purple eyes, watching the scene carefully, though keeping most of the emotion from her fair face. It would be Daenerys Targaryen, she knew, having heard much of the Khaleesi turned Queen of horse lords and freed slaves alike. She was smaller than Arya might have expected, but knew better than most not to underestimate someone based solely on their size. This woman had proven herself fearsome queen, and Arya wouldn't make the foolish mistake of underestimating her.

Jon had pulled back completely, moving to introduce the newcomers with a familiarity that had Arya's eyes narrowing in curiosity. Mayhap reuniting the North and South wouldn't be as impossible a feat as she had imagined, she mused, as she watched Sansa step up as the flawless lady she was and offer accommodations and gratitude for their arrival. She of course made no mention of the tightness of their stores or the burden the new additions would place on them.

The reunion broke up not long after, the newcomers exhausted from the journey and craving a good night's rest more than anything else. Arya made her way quickly back to her room, almost forgetting the visitor waiting behind her door. She didn't forget him completely, couldn't forget him, even if she'd have wanted to. She was almost unnaturally aware of him, and knew where he was immediately upon entering her room.

His eyes pierced her from his place seated in the shadows, and he could sense her lingering unease in the tenseness of her frame. She tried to hide it, tried to control herself to his standard, but knew he could see through her regardless. He didn't call her out for being overly emotional, as he might have done under different circumstances. He didn't react at all, not at first, instead cataloging her motions as she strode carefully across the room to peer out into the brightness of moonlight upon fresh snowfall. The sky had cleared, and the stars shone above despite the illumination of the night.

She watched his reflection approach silently behind her, coming to rest by her shoulder. "A Man has something for a Girl." He stated quietly once he reached her, and she turned to look at him fully. He lifted the sheathed sword from where it had been resting loosely in his hold. She scolded herself for not noticing it before, knowing that she was being too careless. Had he desired, he could have opened her throat while she stood there and allowed it. Not that she necessarily though he would, but vigilance wasn't something she could afford to lose.

The sword was a near match to Needle, being a similar size and shape as her beloved childhood weapon. The steel was different, a smokier grey with an almost sinister looking edge cut into the dark metal. She tore her eyes away from the sight and met those of her mentor. "It's beautiful." She murmured softly, reaching out to stroke the unique rippling, different than Valerian Steel, but just as captivating.

He handed it to her, and she accepted it carefully. The balance was flawless, and it immediately felt almost as familiar to her as Needle did. "It is made of Héjīn, a metal found only in the mines of Yi Ti. A man had it commissioned for the next part of A Girls training."

Her eyes jumped back to his from where they were wandering across the darker ripples, knowing what he meant immediately. It was something she'd been looking forward to, after all. One of the greatest benefits to wielding a weapon as slight as Needle was that it left her other hand free for any number of things- balance, a shield, another sword… She'd seen Jaqen wield two blades during his own training, and she'd yearned for the time that she'd advanced enough for him to teach her. It took a special kind of grace to wield two blades- each having to act in sync and separately at once.

She'd begun preparing for such a thing already, in that she was as proficient with her right has as she was with her left when wielding Needle. She'd left Braavos before they could begin the next phase, but the disappointment of it was just one more in a long line them, and so she'd done what she did best- press forward and not look back.

Now though… She still wasn't entirely sure why he was there, but he hadn't tried to kill her, far from it, rather. And he'd said he wasn't after anyone in Winterfell. Granted, he could have been lying, but she didn't think he was. She still trusted him despite everything, trusted him more than she trusted herself, some days. "The snow in the inner courtyard is deep enough to muffle most noise. What it doesn't, the walls of the keep will block." She offered, knowing it was true. The mounds of snowfall that had been pressed to the walls of the space would catch most sound. With the lateness of the hour, they'd be undisturbed for hours, and the moonlight was more than enough for the two of them to see by.

He didn't respond verbally, but rather nodded his head, small smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. Arya reached up to unclasp her cloak, knowing the bulky material would be more hindrance than anything in the activities to come, and knowing that she'd be moving plenty enough to keep herself warmed. Those dark eyes watched her closely all the while, and the man followed easily behind her when she moved to depart the room.

They reached the resounding silence of the snowscape a scant few minutes later, and Arya took a moment to simply breath in the biting coldness, feeling the pain of it help break her from the remaining fog the events of the night had put her in. She could feel herself settling as the chill set immediately into her limbs, and she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply once more.

More settled than she had been all night, she easily heard the familiar whistle of a staff sailing through the air toward her. They were clearly going to warm up before moving on to two handed sword play- a good choice, considering the months since they'd last played together similarly. She caught the hard yet flexible wood easily, and spun it in her hands to get a better judge of its weight and dimensions as she turned to face him fully.

She realized then that her hair was still loose- an inconvenience, but no matter. They kicked off with a simple 'tap' 'tap' of wood, but quickly gained in speed and determination. After a few rounds passed by, Jaqen added in a second set of staffs. This dance was familiar, and she was able to keep his pace for several long minutes before she found herself on her back. This happened several more times before he silently brought them to a halt, looking pleased with her maintained skill. It wasn't an easy feat to spar aboard a ship or while traveling alone through the woods, after all. "Good." He murmured quietly, walking around behind her.

She stood at ease, relaxed and comfortable in a way she hadn't realized she'd been missing. She was sore, both from the points her opponents own staffs had connected with her, and from the exertion of matching such a competitor, but that only helped center her more. Truly, Breanne had nothing on this man. Despite the physical pain, she felt alive once more, exhilarated and breathless all in one. Her arms rested loosely beside her, wood dangling from her relaxed grip as she awaited his next instruction.

The thick piece of cloth dropping over her vision didn't surprise her, for it became a familiar thing once she'd been given back her sight. She may have passed that test, but being able to fight blind was a skill she needed to keep honed. You never knew where circumstance might bring you, after all, and Arya had long ago vowed that she'd never be helpless again.

She didn't feel him step away, but felt cooler along her back all the same. She steadied her breathing, forcing her heart rate to calm and straining her ears for any sound that might manage to evade the muffling piles of the snow around them. A whistle to the left had her reacting, and the crunch of snow under her own foot deafened her to the whistle coming up behind her. Jaqen's second staff connected with the flesh on the back of her thigh with a thwack that would definitely leave a bruise.

And so a pattern formed. No matter how lightly she tried to step, the sound of snow crunching under her light boots was all that she could hear. The seventh time she landed on her back, she felt a flare of annoyance at herself. She was missing something, doing something wrong. Every environment had its strengths and weaknesses. The weakness was obvious, but what was its strength?

She crouched lower, straining once more as she tried to determine where her master prowled. She wanted to turn, wanted to give herself the best chance of picking up on a stray sound, but she resisted the urge. Her patience paid off, and she heard the air stir directly behind her. She spun on the ball of one foot, at the same time using her hand to create a spray of snow the way she did as a girl while she and her brothers played all those years ago. Sansa rarely took part in such antics, but Arya and the boys always had fun in their childish snow battles.

It might have been a gesture left over from a long forgotten childhood, but it did its job all the same. As the wall of loose snow formed, Jaqen's foot faltered the slightest bit, scuffing across the crystals of ice stacked upon the ground and giving away his location. She reached out with both of her own staffs, hitting ankle and knee simultaneously, though from different angles, buckling his leg. She knew if she backed off and let him regain his silence then she'd lose the advantage she'd gained, and so she pressed blindly on.

He still pinned her, eventually, but she got in enough strikes of her own that it left her feeling satisfied overall. "Good." He said again, and she felt the smile pull at her mouth. His icy hands reached up to remove the blindfold, and she was surprised to see that the horizon had begun to lighten while her sight had been bound. She blinked to help her eyes adjust more quickly and then pressed herself up from where she still sat in the snow. The coolness of it felt good against her exertion warmed flesh, and the dampness it left behind was simply another annoyance to ignore- in addition to the ice crystals that now hung to the ends of her damp hair and hit against her rosy face as they danced. His own face had reddened slightly under his tan, and the physical reminder that he wasn't any more immune to the environment than she was gave her an extra surge of strength.

Their staffs were tossed back amongst the pile of them and then they drew their swords. After the dual hold she'd already been using, having a blade in either hand didn't feel as odd as it otherwise might have. Still, she moved through a couple of lazy arcs and swings to get used to the change of weapon.

Jaqen only allowed it for a couple of moments before he moved to stand before her. His own swords were larger than hers, as he himself was larger than her, and as lethal looking as the hands that held them. They came together slowly, her mentor allowing her a longer adjustment period than he'd given her before. It wasn't too surprising, though, considering this particular dance had a lot more room for error. They may have warmed up with the staffs, but Jaqen wasn't one to bother with blunt steel. If you couldn't control your blade enough to strike with the blunt edge, then you weren't worth his time to train.

The sound of steel on steel had her blood singing, and she knew her face was betraying her euphoria but she couldn't bring herself to face. This, this was what she'd been missing- adrenaline pumping through her veins, feeling almost high on the challenge and thrill of it, having to spend every ounce of her focus on matching his own easy skill. Every time the flat of his blade stung across her flesh she forced herself to move faster, to be that much better. Exertion tried to tug at her limbs but she ignored it, pressing on and on, ever unwilling to give up. Her eyes met his and she could see a miniscule smirk tugging at his own lips. He was enjoying this as much as she, and she felt her blood surge hotter still.

She blamed the combination of that shared euphoria and the muffling power of the snow for the fact that neither she nor her mentor heard the group appear above them on the open walkway. She did hear the stunned sounding "Arya?!" Float down in Jon's rough voice. Jaqen immediately faded back into the shadows that he'd already been partially fighting from, and Arya spun in the direction of her name, wrists automatically coming to cross behind her back and putting both blades out of immediate sight.

Her slightly widened eyes met what must have been the group on their way to an early strategy session. She looked a sight, though she didn't know it. Her face was pale and flushed both, her nose nearly as red as an apple for the length of time they'd been outside in mere breeches and a tunic. Her eyes were gleaming brightly and the adrenaline still surging through her made her look alive in a way she hadn't since she'd been back- that they hadn't seen her since she'd been a child. "Arya, you're bleeding!" Sansa said suddenly, voice almost shrill in the echoing silence.

She was bleeding, she could feel it running down her arm. It'd been her own fault- Jaqen had struck her shoulder with the flat of his blade- a move that would have severed the limb had they been fighting in truth, and she'd raised her arm at the same moment, leaving a shallow line scored across her curve where shoulder met arm. The identical gash in the fabric of her tunic did nothing to hide the wound, and she curled her toes in her boots as she tried to determine the best move from here.

"Who was that, Arya?" Jon demanded sternly, and Arya saw the slender Queen beside him set a dainty hand on his arm and him calm almost immediately. "Who was that?" He asked again, voice more reasonable.

She tried to shrug innocently, but she couldn't quite pull it off, mussed as she was. "No one?" She offered, but the frown she received in return let her know that answer alone wasn't going to cut it…

~*~ TBC ~*~

A/N:

Hello to my wonderful readers. I have some bad news: My computer decided to crash a couple of weeks ago. Not sure what's wrong with it, but I got it to start once, and it ran normally. And then it crashed again, and I couldn't get it to boot up for a week. I got it to start again this morning, and so I'm going to spend today polishing up everything that I have partially written and post it in parts rather than waiting. I will update as I am able, but I'm not sure what's going to happen with my laptop.

This will be part one of two. Please forgive any mistakes, I am working out of a cold medicine induced haze today. Thank you so much for reading, and I please let me know what you think!