Chapter 38: Arya XVI

A tiny gray mouse squeaked from the dark corner as Arya sat on the bed. The bed looked like it hadn't been used in a while, but it was in better shape than most she had come across in her travels and it was good enough to make her sleep at least, even if she doubted her eyes would shut.

They hadn't rested until the day they had reached Castle Black, and once they did, they realized they did not have the means to provide sleeping arrangements for everyone. The cold rushed in before they could set up the tents, and the men had no choice but to take shelter wherever they could find space. If only to survive the night, the soldiers were rushed inside the tents- as many as possible. Arya herself, was first given a room quite decent for an old castle like this, but she had blatantly refused it and asked Ser Davos to use the room to let other men sleep. She did not mind a rough bed for sleeping, she had told him with a smile, and had been reluctantly shown to a little room at the end of the corridor with only a bed and a half-broken nightstand.

Arya took the cloak off her body, her skin instantly tingling with the cold sensation of the wind. The room did not have a fireplace or any place to make fire. The only light came from a candle placed on the nightstand. The moonlight softly crept in, but not brightly enough because of the dust smeared all over the old glass windows, now grey without cleaning for years.

Arya cursed at herself for no reason, then started taking her daggers out of their hiding places. There were six in total- four hidden in the furs of her cloak, one strapped to her hip and one in her left boot. She shivered again as she took the last one out and finally detached Needle from her hip.

This is too much, sister.

Arya rolled her eyes and put her sword away, but not out of reach.

"It would not harm anyone to be careful."

Of course not.

"Get out of my head, Bran. I need sleep."

Something we both can't seem to get much of, though.

Arya shook her head, even though she knew Bran couldn't see her. It brought her comfort to know he was there with her, but speaking to him always seemed to make her heart ache and the possibility that she had bid goodbye to both of her siblings for good did not escape her mind.

"Will you stand there all night?"

Arya raised her eyes to the door with a smile. She had tucked herself inside whatever little furs had been given to her when she had seen him standing there. He had been staring at her for quite a while, she guessed. But Jon had not seemed to notice that she had discovered his presence.

"If only you do not let me come in."

Arya wanted to close her eyes and sigh. Jon and she had not spoken for the entirety of the journey to Castle Black. Even after their arrival, the only conversation they had had were through small gestures and a few words.

Arya had missed him, and so much that she could swear that she felt it physically.

"This is your castle, Jon." Her eyes did not leave his, and Arya unintentionally started worrying her lower lip with her teeth, a victim of habit.

"Not anymore," Jon whispered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. He took a few steps towards her and looked around the small room with a disapproving look.

"I know what you're thinking."

Jon raised his brow.

"I just need a bed to sleep, Jon, and there wasn't enough room for everyone anyway," Arya added. She put a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I'd rather they freeze to death than you."

Arya looked at him with narrowed eyes, her lips set into a hard line.

"You cannot be that selfish," she accused him. The wind outside was making the windows rattle. Jon walked over and wiped the dust off the windows with the sleeve of his shirt, making the moonlight barge in brighter than before.

He turned to look at her with a sad smile.

"I want to be that selfish," he said without a hint of apology on his face. "But I am their King so I cannot be."

Jon sat on the edge of her bed and the furniture creaked loudly, as if ready to break. Arya chuckled.

"I had almost made up my mind that you hate me," she confessed, softly. "We haven't talked in a while, have we?" Arya's head was rested on her raised knees, and she looked up at him. A cold gush of air made her shiver again.

"You could kill me, little wolf," Jon whispered and Arya closed her eyes briefly at hearing the endearment. "And I still couldn't hate you."

They were too close now, and Arya remembered what had happened the last time they had been inside a room together, alone. The memory made her heart heavy. She felt his hand on her cheek and leaned towards it involuntarily, her lips parting in a soft sigh.

"You should be with your wife," she said. She almost grew angry at him for making her say those words to him again and again, when she had no intentions of doing so. It was all his fault. He should not have come to her, but the Gods knew that she herself was losing to find the will to push him away.

"My wife is asleep and does not need me," Jon said, his hand moving lower to touch her neck. "And I do not need her."

He paused, and his fingers tightened around her neck.

"But you-" His voice suddenly turned so hoarse that Arya whimpered at the sound of it. "I need you so much. I thought I could fight this, Arya, but I can't. Even our wolves- you know what they do, don't you?"

She did not know what to say to that, and quite honestly, she did not think she could find her voice even if she tried to. She had not expected him to know of Ghost and Nymeria. Their wolves had been cruel to them indeed- showing them things that they were not meant to see.

Wolf. Human. Sometimes Arya forgot which one she was or was supposed to be.

"I haven't slept properly in a week because of the dreams. I know you saw them too. I kept away from you because I cannot look at you and not-" Jon paused, and a look of utter horror passed his eyes. He lowered his hand and ran it through his hair instead. "I did not come here to tell you this but it's been-"

"Torture," Arya said, completing his sentence. She brought her hand out of the furs and pressed her cold palm against his cheek. Warmth seeped through her skin.

"I love you," he whispered. Arya laughed softly.

"I know that already."

Jon shook his head and stood up abruptly.

"You don't-" He shook his head again, as if in defeat. Arya studied his face intently. For some reason, she dreaded making him leave. "I don't know why I've come here. It's hopeless."

"No!"

Arya stopped Jon with both of her arms clutching his hand fiercely. The room went so deathly silent that she couldn't hear anything except her heart beating in frenzy. She opened her mouth to say those wretched words, praying that the Gods will not strike her down that very second for her sins.

"Just once," she blurted out, closing her eyes. "Stay with me, but it will be the last time. I couldn't bear it if it isn't. It would kill me. But stay for tonight."

Her voice was ragged and broken and barely there, but she knew that Jon heard every word clearly.

"Stay and kiss me," she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth like poison, but with the taste of something sweet like nectar. She did not know where she had found the courage or if she had done the right thing or not.

Her words had stopped Jon dead in his tracks and he stared at her like he couldn't believe her. Arya couldn't blame him. After all, it had always been her who had stopped him from getting closer. It had been her who had told him to leave again and again-

Until now.

"Kiss me, Jon," she said again, less gentler than before. "Kiss me now or I'll change my mind."

She didn't have to ask thrice. Jon was in front of her in a heartbeat and his mouth attached itself to hers instantly, even before she could see properly what was happening. Arya whimpered underneath him as he kissed her fiercely without stopping, his hands cupping her cheeks and holding her face in place. Arya kissed him back with equal fervour, her hands reaching for anything she could touch on his body. Jon was soon pushing her down on the bed and kissing her like he had no time to waste. Arya broke apart and gasped for air as the bed creaked worryingly beneath them.

"I could kiss you everyday and never tire," Jon breathed out. He had closed his eyes. Arya clutched him tighter against her. Only when she could feel his warmth against her, did she realize how real this was. She and Jon were together- and Gods, she never wanted to stop.

"Just once," Arya told him again with conviction, as if she herself did not quite believe her own words yet. She was feverish and barely got the words out of her mouth, breathing rapidly and feeling her skin turn warmer with pleasure with every touch of his fingers or lips or tongue. Jon said nothing, and kept kissing her, mouth pressed in heated passion against hers. His eyes were closed, but sometimes he would open them and the look Arya saw there made her shiver from head to toe.

He parted her legs and wound them around his waist, pushing himself against her body. Arya's hands slithered inside his cloak, warmth seeping from his body into her cold, numb fingers.

She closed her eyes and kissed him harder. It did not matter anymore. They had done what they had done, and stopping now was impossible. Cersei had called her a ghost, but it seemed that it was not only the Stark look that she and her aunt shared. It was so much more.

Just once, she told herself again, and moaned into his neck as Jon's hand went between her legs, his eyes glinting almost purple in the moonlight.

Her eyes opened abruptly, hand reaching out for Needle in a moment of pure instinct. Arya looked around and sat up on the bed, the furs falling from her naked body in a mess. Jon was asleep, his head resting half on the pillow and half beside it, hand splayed out towards where she slept. His eyes were covered with his dark mop of hair, but as much as Arya wanted to keep looking at him, there was something else that was bothering her and had woken her up.

Arya started breathing rapidly, her throat clenching.

"Jon," she called. He did not seem to move, and she stood up, ignoring the biting cold as she walked nude towards the window. She looked down at what was supposed to be the yard of Castle Black and her eyes widened in horror.

"Jon!" She screamed, and rushed towards the bed, looking wildly for her clothes among the mess lying on the floor. After a while she found her tunic and was haphazardly putting it on when she heard a groan and turned to look at Jon. He had woken up and she found him looking at her worriedly with eyes half open.

"They're here," Arya said, her voice catching in her throat again as she put on her breeches. "I saw-"

The door to their room was suddenly opened loudly, and Arya reached for Needle. A man appeared near the door wearing all black. But his eyes were icy blue, almost too blue to be human. Arya recognized the man instantly.

"Edd," Jon whispered. Arya turned to look at him but the corpse had already lunged at Jon. Arya rushed in between them and pushed him away as she braced Needle for impact. The former Lord Commander lunged at her this time and Arya pushed Needle against him to ward off the attack and kill him, only to watch as the little sword to shattered into pieces with a loud clang as it came in contact with the ice cold body.

Needle lay on the floor, broken and in pieces.

"Arya!"

Jon's blade cut through thin air and pierced through the man's chest, as the corpse split in half. Jon instantly took the almost burned-out from the nightstand and threw it at the corpse, engulfing it in yellow flames.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly looking at Arya and she nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the broken shards of what was left of Needle. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and then a soft but urgent kiss on her head.

"It's just a sword, Arya," Jon said calmly. "Come on, you have to find another. We need to go."

Arya gulped, her hands shaking. But she nodded her head and let Jon put her cloak over her and pull her along through the empty corridor. The scar on her cheek felt colder and almost like it was burning. When they reached the end of the hallway, they looked out of the balcony onto the open field. Arya's jaw clenched.

"Where can I find a sword?" She asked Jon, as she pulled out a dagger out of her furs, all the while staring at the pile of bodies lying directly below them. Dozens of men were lying like lifeless corpses, but with their eyes open wide-

And blue.