A/N: Introduction to characters! Stick around for some drama/action/suspense/romance/etc. soon to come :)

As the sky began graying in preparation for the coming dawn, Arya sat perched against the headboard of her bed, flipping through the little sketchbook she had been doodling in for the past few months. She allowed herself a small smile, quite pleased with how quickly her talent was developing. The first time Sansa saw her drawings her sister had spurted out lemon water through her nostrils. But Arya had not been daunted in the least bit; Sansa might be a successful fashion designer by the ripe young age of twenty, but she could never draw a stick-figure half as well as Arya could.

A sudden crashing noise came from downstairs, causing her to jump with a start. She threw back her sheets and hopped out of bed with cat-like reflexes, but once her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor she retreated right back into the warmness of her sanctuary. Arya bit her lip, wondering what she should do to salvage her dignity. Hastily, she grabbed her cellphone off of the nightstand and texted Sansa: "What the hell was that, are you okay?" Then, after a moment, she decided to add an exclamation point, just to bump up her level of concern.

Her phone vibrated seconds later, alerting her of a new message. She opened it and read her sister's text: "Omg there's a dick in the kitchen!"

Raising a quizzical eyebrow Arya replied: "Don't be frightened, Sansa. The first time seeing one was jarring for me too..."

Bz. Bz. "You've seen one before? When? Why didn't you tell me!"

Arya didn't think that was information one would share with others, even if they were sisters. Nevertheless, she was tempted to say it was Jon's porn collection, but then thought better of it. Ygritte was proof enough that their brother wasn't into that stuff. But before she could think of something else to say she suddenly heard quacking. A duck, she thought stupidly. Sansa needs to do something about that autocorrect.

Bracing herself for another shock of cold, Arya hopped out of bed once more and ran as quickly as she could downstairs. In the kitchen she found Sansa, Bran and Rickon petting a baby duckling on the marble counter. With bright eyes and a goofy grin Arya jumped right into the action, stroking the ball of fluff with greedy fingers. "Where did he come from?" she asked her siblings, still smiling. Ducks were not very common in the frigid lands of Winterfell, especially not one so ridiculously adorable.

"He just walked in through the back door," Bran chuckled. "Poor thing must be lost."

Robb emerged from the hallway, his auburn hair looking like a nest that had been flying through a hurricane all night. Arya bit back a snide remark, knowing full well what the name of that hurricane was. "Mother's not going to be very happy once she finds out you've been letting a stray duck run around on her kitchen counter," he warned with a yawn.

Rickon smiled and said, "Mother won't know. She and father went to see Robert today remember? They won't be back for days."

"She'll find out either way," Jon, who was sitting at the table nursing a cup of orange juice, remarked. "You all have big mouths, the lot of you."

Arya tore off a chunk of bread from the counter and tossed it at her favorite brother. She smirked in satisfaction when it bounced off his forehead and landed in his drink. Jon made a disgusted face but Arya ran to him and squeezed his neck in an embrace before he could speak. "What?" she challenged, "you got something to say? Huh?" She squeezed even harder until he let out a whimpered choke. When she released him he gasped hungrily for air.

"Christ, Arya, what was that for!"

"Nothing," she said sweetly, "I just wanted to hug you is all."

Jon pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but otherwise let it slide. "Anyway," he said, "what's everyone doing today?"

Sansa had moved away from the duck and was now raiding the fridge for something to eat. "Joffrey and I are going out later," she said casually. "He's picking me up in a few hours."

Everyone let out a unified groan. "Honestly, Sansa, how long will it take for you to realize that Joffrey is an absolute prick?" Robb spoke first.

"An ass," Bran added.

"A shit," Jon ammended.

"A cunt," Arya corrected.

The four siblings then looked to Rickon in expectance of his contribution. The youngest boy twisted his face in thought, then let it fall. "Oh, come on guys, that's not fair. You took all the good ones!"

"Not true," Jon quipped. "There's cocksucker, ball licker, shithead."

"Douche canoe, clitsquiggle, fuckface," Arya intoned.

"Dickhead, pussy, asswipe," Robb pointed out.

"Eunuch, twat, jerk," Bran suggested (he had always been the nice one).

"Titty wrinkle!" Rickon shouted loudly, throwing up his hands in victory and beaming with pride.

Arya snorted in laughter, but Sansa was indignant. "Enough! All of you! Joffrey is lovely," she said defensively. "He just has a temper is all, like his father."

Jon scoffed. "That little shit is nothing like his father. His mother's so greedy she probably took over Robert's half of Joffrey's DNA."

"Oh, shut up. Lucky he's nothing like that drunken old sot." Veering the attention away from herself she asked, "What are the rest of you guys doing?"

"I've got to go to work in Father's place," Robb sighed. As the oldest, he was to take over the family business when the time came. Father had always been proud of Robb; at only twenty-three his son was already doing as well as any man twice his age.

Jon would have shared the responsibility, being the same age as Robb and all, but he wanted to join the Night's Watch instead - the most prestigious military faction in Westeros. Arya had begged him not to join, since it meant that he would be away at the Wall for several months or even years at a time, but Jon had explained to her that it was an honor to serve and protect their home. She didn't talk to him for weeks after that, but he made amends when one night he brought her a present. A real valyrian steel dagger. "Stick 'em with the pointy end," Jon had instructed, "but don't go around poking holes in everyone who makes you angry. If you did, there'd be no one left for me to protect." She was twelve at the time, and over the six years that had passed since then, they had never fought again.

Arya's fond ruminations were interrupted by Bran's voice. "Me and Rickon are going to visit Meera and Jojen to pick up Summer and Shaggydog."

"Rickon and I," corrected Sansa.

"Potato, tomato," he waved vaguely at the air, demonstrating how little he cared for grammar. "Anyway," he continued to answer Jon's question before his sister could say another word, "do you and Arya want to come?"

She tossed a handful of cereal into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then took a swig out of the milk carton. "Oh, gross!" Sansa exclaimed in disgust.

Arya stuck her tongue out - coated in what looked remarkably like shit but was actually soggy Cocoa Puffs - to indicate that she didn't give a flying fuck. "No thanks," she told Bran. "Besides, they're your friends, not mine."

Bran shrugged. "They wouldn't mind, but suit yourself. What about you, Jon?"

"I know them even less than she does, so I see no reason to go either. But hey," he looked at Arya then, "wanna to go to the lake? You know, to celebrate the first day of summer?"

Arya's face lit up. "Can we bring Nymeria and Ghost?"

Upon hearing their names, both Arya and Jon's wolves trotted into the kitchen, their fur matted with sleep. The duckling, which had fallen asleep in Rickon's arms, jerked awake and began quacking in fear. After watching Rickon step outside, Jon frowned. "Arya, they're wolves. You know it's illegal to keep them as pets. The only reason we haven't been arrested yet is because we're so far up north, where no one bothers to check for criminals."

"I thought the reason why we haven't been arrested yet is because Father practically runs the justice system."

"She has a point," Robb agreed, peeling a banana. "There are law enforcements in every city, but as the leader of the northern province, Father has the last say in all matters, major or otherwise."

"Wow, look at Robb all grown up and serious," Sansa acknowledged approvingly. "Too bad Father isn't here to kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star."

Robb made to throw the banana peel at his sister, but she shied away and hid behind Bran.

"Well even so, we can't just bring wolves out in the public. People will shit their pants."

Arya hugged Nymeria and let the beast lick her unwashed face. "I can understand if people would do that after seeing Ghost, but how can they be afraid of my wittle buggy wuggy boo?"

"Wittle?" Bran hooted, "Nymeria is the second biggest of the pack. She could tear out a grown man's throat in half a second."

"Only if I told her to," Arya grinned mischieveously.

"It doesn't matter," Jon sighed heavily, "we can't bring them."

All of a sudden Bethoveen's Symphony No. 5 began playing loudly. The whole room broke out in laughter as Arya looked at her phone to see that it was their father.

"That's the ringtone you gave him?" Robb raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Actually, it's the ringtone I use for everyone."

"Why? It sounds like the Doom is coming or something."

"Exactly. Everyone knows I only text, so if someone calls I'll know that I'm either in huge trouble, or there's a dire emergency."

The laughter died down in an instant, and Arya, when she realized that she had been staying out of trouble of late, froze in panic. After a beat, she picked up the phone. "Hello?" her voice was hesitant. "Oh. Oh my god, are you serious? Yeah, do you want to talk to them? Oh. Okay. Sansa and Bran? Yeah, okay I'll tell them. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, see you soon. Love you, too. Bye." She clicked off her phone and looked up. "Jon Arryn is dead," she said softly.

A flurry of shouts and questions attacked her all at once.

"What, are you serious?"

"How?"

"What happened?"

"What do we do?"

"Is Father coming home?"

"Where are they right now?"

"Hey! Hello? Tell us!"

"Okay, everyone needs to just CALM. THE FUCK. DOWN." Arya smoothed her still-bedraggled hair and took a deep breath as she waited for her siblings to pipe down. When it was quiet again she explained, "Father is going back to King's Landing with Robert and Joffrey first. Mother is coming home. Robb is staying to take Father's place in his absence, and Rickon is staying as well. Bran is going down to begin learning about the family business, and the three of us - " she nodded at Sansa and Bran, " - are going to attend the funeral. And Jon, since you're leaving for the Wall in less than a week anyway..." she trailed off from there, letting him draw the conclusion himself.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them like an old scratchy blanket.

"Hey!" Rickon broke the spell as he bounced back into the kitchen, breathless, with a toothy grin spread across his face. "Did I miss anything?"