In one of the reviews I got asked a question about the characters ages. I've gone with a mixture of show and book ages (Theon is his age in the books, everyone else is the age they are in the show). So here are the ages as of this chapter (and as for the timeline, this is 5 years after the Greyjoy Rebellion or roughly 293AC):

Character ages:

Theon: 14

Robb / Jon: 12

Sansa: 9

Arya: 7

Bran: 6

Rickon: 4

Standard disclaimer that GOT and HP do not belong to me. And another trigger warning, this is GOT people…you should all know what to expect when you started reading it.

Sitting in the Lord's Solar within Winterfell, Jon idly picked at his nails as he waited for his fath – uncle to call on him. It'd been a week since Jon had awoken to find Arya in his room with him, and in all that time not only had he not been able to see his sister again, but he been unable to leave his room at all. After she passed out, Jon had immediately scooped his lithe sister up in his arms and rush for the door, commanding the guard that was posted just outside his room to go and fetch Maester Luwin immediately as Jon made a mad dash for Arya's room.

The Maester and his ever-present shadow the Lady Maegyr arrived at Arya's room soon after Jon did. With barely word to him, the Maester ordered Jon to set his sister down on the bed so that he could examine her. Jon kept his back respectively turned the entire time as the Maester and Lady Maegyr looked his sister over while occasionally asking Jon a question about how she came to be in such a state.

'Of course, I couldn't tell them the truth.' Jon thought bitterly. 'I couldn't tell them that I'm the Master of Death, and the reason why Arya was now in such a deep sleep was because I accidently bonded her to my power.'

They were barely within Arya's room for a scant few minutes before door to her room was flung open with such force that it bounced back off the stone walls. The Lady Stark stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and her face pale as she stared at her unconscious daughter on the bed. Then her gaze shifted to him. And the paleness within her face vanish, replaced with a rage unlike any Jon had ever seen before. He didn't remember her crossing the room, nor did he remember when she had the time to pull her arm back. All he remembered was that her sudden and full arm slap across him jaw nearly broke it and sent him spiraling down into a heap on the floor.

He didn't remember much after that. He remembered a pair of rough hands grabbing him under his arms and forcibly dragging him out of the room while Lady Stark screeched at the top of her lungs. He thought he heard something about checking her innocence, but Jon couldn't focus on her voice, hells, he could hardly focus on the walls of Winterfell as he was dragged away from Arya, his head constantly rolling as he still reeled from the Lady Stark's full armed slap. And then he was back in his room, being roughly tossed onto the floor with his door slamming shut behind him and the lock audibly clicking into place.

After that, Jon knew nothing but solitude for a week solid. No one came to visit nor to even talk to him through his door. The only time his door even opened was twice a day. Once for a maid, who wasn't allowed to talk to him, to change out the chamber pot in his room. And the second time to provide him with a single tray of food that he needed make last the day. The solitude he could deal with. Or at least he used to be able to deal with it. But now he was no longer alone. At least not completely. He could almost feel Arya in his mind. But it felt…incomplete somehow. Like whatever was supposed to happen between them had yet to finish before it was interrupted. He could tell that she was sleeping restlessly and he an urge, no, urge was too soft of a word. He needed to see her. But no matter how hard he pleaded at his door or what he promised, the door to his room remained sealed and he was left alone with only the faltering link to Arya to keep him company.

It took a week for Lord Stark to return from Castle Cerwyn just south of Winterfell. A week of agonizing torture as Jon was left with nothing to do but to agonize over the only partial bond that now existed between himself and his cousin. No. With his sister. Despite who his parents truly were, Arya would always first and foremost be his sister.

Hearing the door to the solar being opened, Jon immediately got to his feet. He'd barely managed to stand fully before Lord Stark marched into the room with the Lady Stark right on his heels. Just as she had a week prior, there was a look of utter hatred in the Lady Starks eyes as she regarded him. But strangely enough there was now a new emotion within her eyes that Jon couldn't put a name too. It almost looked like she was, pleased. Which did absolutely nothing to settle Jon's growing resentment with her.

Lord Stark however was a completely different story. His fath – uncle, was completely shut off without an ounce of emotion showing on his face. 'Not good.' Jon thought as the door shut firmly behind the two. 'The only time he has this look is when he is dealing with matters of justice.'

Silence stretched between the three of them as Jon and Lord Stark stared at one another. "Arya has been unconscious for a week now." Lord Stark stated calmly, his eyes never leaving Jon as he spoke. "Maester Luwin and Lady Maegyr have tried just about everything they can to wake her, but nothing is working. What happened?"

Eyes flickering towards Lady Stark, Jon felt his anger rise as he noticed the slight upturning of her lips. "Does it even matter Lord Stark?" Jon asked. "Lady Stark has already told you some poisonous fabricated tale about how I must have done something to Arya to harm her. What is my word against hers?"

His words were petty and probably not the best to say, at least at the moment. But seeing the anger in Lady Stark's eyes was worth whatever wraith was about to befall him. "How dare you accuse me of lying you bast-"

The sound of wood cracking resounded throughout the room as Lord Stark's fist shot out in front of Lady Stark and landed against the door to the solar, stopping her in her tacks and cracking one of the heavy wooden panels on the door. "That is enough!" There were few times that Jon could say he was afraid, truly afraid, and at the moment, staring into the cold eyes of Lord Stark with his fist embedded into the door, Jon was more afraid than he'd ever been in his entire life. "I leave with Robb for one week. For one week! And when I come back, I find that Jon is awake but sequestered in his chambers as if he were less than a prisoner and Arya is unconscious. I am in no mood for pettiness from either of you! I will know what has happened and I will know now!"

Fighting to keep his fear under control, Jon spared a quick glance towards the Lady Stark and felt his fear dissipate slightly as he noticed that he wasn't the only one having trouble keeping his fear of Lord Stark in check. Jon could tell his uncle exactly what happened and why she was still unconscious, but the truth of the matter was he was hesitant to do so. At least in the presence of the Lady Stark. God's only knew what her reaction would be. But Lord Stark had an ability that was almost borderline magic in his ability to command the truth from someone whenever he held their gaze.

"I don't know how Arya got into my room Lord Stark." Jon began, telling what truth he could for now. "All that I remember was waking up and seeing Arya at my bedside shaking me. Then," hesitating, Jon tried to find a way to tell the truth without necessarily telling everything. "I felt something strange and Arya just started staring off into the distance. And then she just collapsed. After she fell, I carried her to Maester Luwin and told him what happened. And then I was thrown into my rooms and haven't left since."

Lord Stark held his gaze unflinching the entire time he spoke. Even after he'd finished, his uncles gaze never wavered. "Is that all that happened?"

Swallowing, Jon nodded. "Yes, Lord Stark."

"You did nothing untoward with Arya?"

The question stunned Jon for a moment before he felt his anger flare at the insinuation. "Despite what some might believe, I am not the bastard they believe me to be." Jon hissed angrily, not backing down from Lord Stark's stare. "Sometimes I truly wish that I was just so I could justify their hatred for me. But I'm not. Arya is my sister, despite what some say and want. We may not share the Stark name, but she is the sister I choose above all others. I would kill any who even looked at her inappropriately, let alone act untoward with her."

Lord Stark held his eyes as the two battled wills with one another, neither willing to back down. "Good." Lord Stark said suddenly, pulling back and surprising Jon as he turned to Lady Stark. "Cat, see to Sansa and Arya. I will handle things from here."

Lady Stark blinked, her eyes moving back and forth between Jon and the Lord of Winterfell. "My Lord I-"

"Cat." Lord Stark bit out harshly, turning his hard gaze off Jon and onto his wife. "We will talk about this at another time. For now, see to Sansa and Arya. Now."

Lady Stark opened her mouth to say something, no doubt something disparaging about himself, but the cold look from Lord Stark froze the words in her throat. "As you say, my Lord Husband." She agreed quietly as Lord Stark retracted his fist from the door, allowing his Lady Wife to quietly leave the two of them alone.

Now alone, Jon watched as Lord Stark's shoulders visibly slumped as his uncle moved across the room and towards a small cabinet near the back of the room. Silently, Jon watched as the man who raised him pulled out a small container that Jon knew contained the northern drink called whiskey and proceeded to pour the contents into two tin cups. After downing one of the cups, his uncle refilled it before making his way back towards him. When the two were less than an arm's length apart, he held out on of the two cups towards him. "You're nearly a man now Jon." Lord Stark stated as Jon stared down at the cup with wide eyes. "And after what you've had to endure, I'm sure you could use it."

Taking the offered cup, Jon started down into its depths as Lord Stark took a few steps back from him. There wasn't much in the cup, maybe slightly less than half a finger width, but it was far more than Lord Stark had ever offered either himself or Robb before in the past. "Some say that the answers to problems can be found in the bottom of cup." Lord Stark said as Jon swirled the brownish liquid around. "It's horseshit. Answers are never found in the bottom of cup. Only problems. But sometimes a cup can help to calm the nerves."

Still not drinking the cup, Jon watched silently as Lord Stark sat down behind his desk and began to idly turn his own cup in his hands. When Jon still refused to drink or say anything, Lord Stark sighed and set his cup down. "Jon," he began, folding his hands on his desk. "There is nothing that I can do to take back the injustice of this past week. But I vow that this will not happen again. You may not carry the Stark name, but you have the Stark blood Jon."

Hearing that phrase broke Jon out of his stupor. "Aye, I do have the blood of the Starks. But not your blood, Lord Stark."

Jon was expecting Lord Stark to deny the accusation or to try and cover his tracks. But instead of trying to continue to live the lie, Lord Stark merely sighed and drained his cup in a single go before setting it down, his eyes not able or willing to meet Jon's. "So you know then."

"Aye." Jon nodded, there wasn't much need for clarification on eithers part. Still holding his cup in his hands, Jon made his way towards his father in all but blood and sat down across from him. "I have the blood of the wolf within me. But it is only half of who I am. The blood of the dragon runs just as strong through me."

Jon had never seen his adoptive father look so defeated as he did in that moment. "Jon…I never meant to-"

"It's alright, Lord Stark…uncle." Jon said, cutting his uncle off as he held up his hand. "I know. And if I ever find myself in the same position, I only pray to the old gods that I would have the strength of will to make the same choice as you."

Confusion and relief warred across Lord Starks face as the two continued to stare at one another. "What do you mean?"

Doing his best to keep himself composed, Jon thought back to the many conversations regarding his birth and Lord Starks actions he'd had with Harry while the two where within his mindscape. "I'm the son of a wolf and a dragon…a true born son. My very existence, if it is now, would incur a rebellion and worse to the King, I'm living proof that everything he thought was a lie. The easiest thing to do would be to kill me and be done with it. But you didn't. You held your family higher than your personal honor…and for that I cannot thank you enough. It's because of your actions that I'm even alive right now. I was upset for a long time after I learned of my true parentage…but my mentor helped me work through it."

Spinning his cup once more in his hand, Jon down its contents in one go – and immediately started coughing so hard he was afraid that he would cough up a lung. "Gods uncle." Jon coughed, setting the cup down as a steady warmth seeped into him from the drink. "How do people drink that stuff?"

"With much practice." Lord Stark replied, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "But don't expect me to allow you to become so seasoned, your mother would never forgive me if I allowed you to become a drunk."

Feeling himself smile in return, Jon shook his head. "From what I've heard, she probably would crack my skull open with some sort of mace if I do."

"More likely a sword." His uncle countered chuckling. "She always had more of a hand at the sword rather than the mace." His uncles smile wilted slightly as his 'Lord's face' slipped back into place. "The truth of your parentage is dangerous Jon. Even now after all these years. As much as I want you to be the your own man-"

"I have to continue to be your bastard son uncle." Jon finished for him with a nod. "I understand. It's safer for everyone that nothing changes. Well…at least nothing more than what already has I guess."

"Aye." His uncle nodded. "And I will talk to Lady Stark, you have my word on that. This past week will not repeat itself. But there is something that I must know Jon. Until recently only two souls alive knew who your mother was. Now there are four. I trust three of us to keep this to ourselves…but I need to know who told you Jon. I need to know that we can trust them to keep this information to themselves."

The reminder of his mentor killed whatever good mood was left within Jon. "There's no need uncle. Harry won't tell anyone my secret. Not anymore."

"Harry? Is that his name?" His uncle asked, to which Jon nodded. "And how do you know he won't tell anyone? And speaking of this mysterious man, how did even contact you in the first place. There have been no ravens or visitors for you that I am aware of."

"He won't tell anyone because he's dead uncle." Jon responded flatly. Even if it was what Harry had wanted, Jon still felt the guilty for being the one to bring about his end. "And as for the how and why he contacted me…well…that is a very long story. One that goes back to just after you returned from the Greyjoy Rebellion."

Standing with his back towards his solar and facing out the open windows, Ned stared skywards at the stars littering the night sky as he breathed in the cool northern air. The conversation he'd had with Jon, which had lasted well past nightfall, had left him more than slightly shaken for multiple reasons. 'It's one thing to think of the Master of Death and accept that he might be real and not just a tale. But it is quite another thing to have the truth confirmed.' Ned thought, closing his eyes. 'Now I know he's real. And not only is he real…but he passed on his title to my nephew. Jon Snow, or rather Aegon Targaryen Sixth of his name. The hidden rightful heir of the Iron Throne and the Master of Death. Quite the legacy he has. And not just Jon…but Arya now as well.'

The truth about what had transpired between Jon and Arya had shaken Ned down to his core. After Howland had all but confirmed just who Jon had met with on the Isle of Faces, Ned had poured over the Stark Family Grimoire searching for any references at all to the Master of Death, and the few that he managed to find always referenced the fact that the man always traveled with four women who were referred too as his 'Angels'. 'And now Arya will join those same ranks. And unfortunately, not by choice. Although if she were given the choice, as much as it pains me to admit, I know which way she'd choose.'

Ned was not looking forward to the time when he would have to explain just why Arya's destiny no longer laid with House Stark. She was now permanently bonded with the Master of Death and would outlive all them and their children and their children's children. 'And the trade off for such a prolonged life and power is that she is now barren.' Ned thought morosely. 'How does one explain to their wife and their seven-name day child that said child is now barren?'

Turning his back on the northland landscape, Ned made his way back into the room proper and stood before the low burning fire within his hearth. Unfortunately, the revelation about himself, his mentor and Arya were not the only thing that Jon had discussed with him. He'd also told him, on Ned's urging, just what purpose Jon was meant to serve as the Master of Death. And now that he knew, Ned truly wished he didn't. The Master of Death primary responsibility was to safeguard three objects. The Cloak of Invisibility, which was in Jon's room. The Death Stick, which Jon now proudly wore at his waist and had dubbed Deaths Bane. And the Ring of Resurrection. The one item that truly frightened Ned more than any other, especially after Jon showed him just what the ring could do. It had taken nearly the entire decanter of whiskey to calm his nerves after Jon summoned the ghost of his mother, Ned's sister, Lynna Stark.

'I knew that Lyanna would be upset with me over Jon's upbringing.' Ned thought with only the slightest amount of mirth as he recalled Jon summoning the apparition of his sister into the room, only to have her immediately turn on Ned and try to club him over the head. 'If it wasn't for the fact that she wasn't truly here, I would have a welt the size of the Wall on my head. As it is…I am not looking forward our reunion when my time finally comes.'

The only thing that had given him some measure of peace was when Jon all but vowed to him that he would not seek out to claim his birth right. 'I have more responsibilities than you can possibly imagine uncle.' Jon had told him when Ned had brought it up. 'Most I don't even know of yet. Honestly, the Iron Throne is not a responsibility that I even want.'

Hearing the lightest of knocks on his chamber's door, Ned sighed as he began to mentally prepare himself for what was about to transpire. 'As if this past week hasn't already been stressful enough.' He thought sourly. "Come in."

Hearing the door open, Ned didn't need to look to know who had entered as soft footfalls made their way slowly towards him. "Ned."

Taking one last calming breath, Ned kept his attention firmly on the flames, not willing to turn and face her, not yet at least. The pain was still too fresh in his mind. "What have I told you on multiple occasions Cat?" He asked, still refusing to face his Lady Wife.

"Ned." There was a nervous undertone to his wife's voice that was almost impossible to miss. "I am not sure what you are imp-"

Unable to take it any longer, Ned turned sharply and glared at his wife. "Don't play ignorant with me Cat." Ned hissed. "What are your House words Cat?"

Cat's brows furrowed. "Ned what-"

"The Tully words Cat. What are they?"

Swallowing visibly, Cat's back straightened as she met his gaze. "Family, duty, honor."

"Aye." Ned nodded. "Family first as it is the most important. Jon might not carry the Stark name, but the blood of the Starks flows through his veins. He is a brother to our children. He is family. He would rather die than let any harm come to any of his brothers or sisters. He is family."

Cat's face continued to pale with each word Ned spoke. "But Arya-"

"Then there is duty." Ned pressed on, unwilling to let her get a word in edge wise. "It was your duty as Lady of Winterfell to investigate why Arya fell unconscious. Had you done your duty, as I have now belatedly done for you, you would've learned that the guard posted outside his room reported that no one had entered or left the room until Jon emerged holding our unconscious daughter in his arms. And knowing our daughter, and after talking to Jon, it is most probably that Arya snuck in to see him, no doubt through the window in his room that is near the yard."

"And then there is honor Cat." Ned growled, taking a step towards her, which made her in turn take a step back away from him. "What honor did you have in insinuating that Jon took advantage of Arya when there was no proof of such a thing happening? What honor was there in spreading such a belief to the staff of Winterfell? What honor was there in locking a child in his room and all but starving him for a week for a crime he did not even commit in the first place?!"

Ned hadn't even realized that his voice had risen to the point yelling, nor had he realized that he'd been advancing on Cat until she was forced to stop moving away from him as her back hit the wall. The pure fear in her eyes sent chills down Ned's spine, and not in a pleasant manner either. He hated this. He hated arguing with her. However much they may differ, she was still his wife of twelve years and he had come to love her dearly, despite her many faults.

Taking a calming breath, Ned forced himself to back away from his nearly cowering wife. "What happened this week will never happen again. Am I clear Cat?""

"Yes." Catelyn replied almost immediately, her voice trembling with fear.

He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, to drive away her fear. But he couldn't. Not yet at least. She'd made a mistake, several mistakes. And he couldn't let the matter lay so easily. "From now on, should I find the need to leave Winterfell Robb will be the acting Lord of Winterfell and his word will be law. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Cat nodded once more, a fight seemingly gone from her.

Taking a breath, Ned hesitated to add the last bit on, but it was necessary for the survival of the pack. "And you will apologize to Jon for your treatment of him this past week and for your insinuation of him taking advantage of Arya." Predictably, Cat made to protest, but Ned merely held up his hand bring an abrupt end to any counter from her. "You will not have to do it in public. But you will do it in front of our children and explain to them why you were wrong."

Cat said nothing as she stood there staring at him, the color slowly returning to her as her face turned from a pale white to a soft red in the space of a few heart beats. "This is not meant to humiliate you Cat." Ned tried to reassure her. "You don't have to love Jon. All I ask is that you tolerate him. If not for the fact that he is a motherless boy, then for the fact that our children love him as their own brother. The Starks have managed to endure the long night, rival kings and lords contenting for the throne of winter, countless invasions from other lands and the dragons because we believe in one thing above all else. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Your actions brought division to the pack. And now you need to fix it Cat. That's all I'm asking of you, nothing more."

A war of emotion raged across Cat's face as clear as day. Eventually the war died down and her shoulders, once risen in defiance of the command, slumped in defeat. "As you command, my husband."

Knowing that he wasn't going to get any further with the current conversation, Ned merely gave her a curt nod at her acceptance before turning his back on his wife and making his way back towards the hearth. There was one more thing that he needed to tell her. But by the gods…he didn't want too. He didn't want to shatter what little peace existed within Winterfell. "When I spoke with Jon, he mentioned that he believes he knows what ails Arya." He said, not turning around to face Cat as he spoke lest she see that he was holding something back from his explanation. "He asked to see her tonight, and I allowed it under the supervision of Maester Luwin. Jon gave me his word that Arya would be back on her feet by sunrise. When we meet to break our fast in the morning you will make your apology."

"Is…is there anything else?"

"No." Ned immediately responded, even as a voice inside cried out, calling him a coward. There was more. So much more. But he didn't know how to put it into words without irreversibly damaging their already faltering marriage.

To Ned's utmost surprise, he felt two lithe arms wrap around his midsection from behind. Feeling his eyes beginning to water, he lightly patted the hands around his waist as he felt Cat rest her head against his back. Standing in silence, Ned basked in the feel of his wife leaning against him before breaking her hold and turning so that he could wrap her small frame in his arms. "I…I can't say I will ever tolerate the ba…boy Ned." Cat mumbled against his chest. "He's a symbol of your betrayal to me…to us. But…I will try. For our children's sake."

Feeling the pain of withholding the truth from her in his chest, Ned wrapped his arms tighter around his wife and held her to him. 'It would be so much easier to just tell her the truth.' Ned thought as the two stood in the middle of the room in silence as they drew comfort from one another. 'But it is no longer my secret to tell. And should it ever come out…the fewer that know the truth the better. I will not have Cat or my children put in harms way. And this knowledge would do exactly that.'

Night had descended upon the north as the youngest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark stealthily made her way out of the window of her room and started to make her way down the side of the inner keep of Winterfell and towards the top of the rampart that extended out of the keep that was just below her window. Judging her distance, Arya let go of the wall and landed silently on the roof of the rampart before making her way across the roof and towards the godswood. Despite only having the light of the moon to guide her footing, Arya made her way across the roofs Winterfell without taking a single misstep. To Arya, the light of the moon was more than enough to light her path despite the fact only a small sliver of the existed that night, and even that was covered by the clouds in the sky.

Smiling as she finally reached the godswood, Arya took a quick glance about checking for any of her father's men before stepping off the roof and falling a distance nearly five times as tall as herself before landing gracefully on the ground without a sound. Looking up at the impressive distance she'd fallen from, Arya felt herself smile. Before…well whatever happened with Jon she'd made a similar fall from only half the distance and it hurt! Maester Luwin had even commented while treating her that she was luckily that she hadn't broke anything from the fall. But now, now she could jump from over twice the distance and land without a single shred of pain.

As she made her way thought the trees of the godswood, Arya reflected upon the past week since she'd been awoken by her brother Jon. To say that the week had been a strange one would be silly. Nothing was as it should've been! For starters, mother had apologized to Jon for forcing him into isolation and not giving him the chance to explain his actions the next morning after she awoke! Her mother never apologized to Jon for anything! But she did! Of course, after Jon said that 'there was nothing to forgive', her mother returned to once more ignore her brother's very existence.

And then if her mother's actions weren't strange enough, Jon had to follow it up with his own strange actions. After they'd finished their fast, the guards had brought in the two chests that Jon had brought back with him from wherever he'd gone. Then, to the amazement of everyone in the room, he simply undid the latch and opened one of them! Arya and Bran had tried everything they could to get those chests open, and she knew that her father's men had tried as well, but nothing would open them! And then Jon just opened them as if they were never even locked in the first place!

But the strangeness of the chests was soon forgotten as Jon revealed their contents. There were five Valyrian steel daggers within the first! There were also some books or something that made Maester Luwin and Talisa go wide eyed. But she didn't really care about those. Her eyes were solely and only focused on the near priceless treasures of real Valyrian steel! And then Jon had gone and given one to each of them! She had her own Valyrian steel dagger! Of course, her mother immediately confiscated them from herself, Sansa, Bran and their still baby brother Rickon. But Arya didn't care. She had her own dagger! One that was hers and hers alone!

But he didn't end there. He kept pulling things out! Arya honestly didn't know how such small chests could hold so much! There were dozens of books, one of which nearly made Maester Luwin pass out for some reason. Gauntlets for Robb and Theon of all people, who looked like he'd swallowed something really sour when Jon presented the shinning metal gauntlets to him. There was also some jewelry for silly Sansa and Jayne. And Jon even gave a golden wolf pendant to her mother, who accepted it with a completely flat look, which Arya thought was just rude.

The end of their meal and gifts brought an end to the strangeness involving her family, but for Arya it was just the beginning. During her sewing lessons with Septa Mordane, Arya could've sworn that she heard the needle that Jayne dropped midsession hit the floor. And then when Sansa and Jayne began looking for it, Arya was able to point them directly too it without having ever seen it!

Then there was their weekly arms lesson with Ser Rodrik. For some reason holding the blade just felt more…right. And when she was in the ring, it was almost as if she knew exactly what all of her opponents were going to do! Well, maybe that wasn't quite right. But Arya had never moved faster than she had that day. She managed to block every attack sent her way. And every time she attacked or counter her hits landed squarely without fail.

Ser Rodrik said that she was a natural, something that made her swell with pride! Finally, something that she was far better at than her 'perfect' sister Sansa! Both Jon and Robb congratulated her as well. Although Jon for some reason was looking at her strangely the whole time as if he knew something she didn't. But then Theon had to go and ruin it by saying that everyone was just taking it easy on her and that was why she was able to win so readily. Which then promoted her to immediately challenge him in the ring.

She honestly hadn't meant to hurt him. She really didn't. She just wanted him to stop trying to talk down on her abilities. But instead when he stepped in the ring Arya didn't see him as their family ward or even a friend to her brother. She saw him as one who insulted the pack! Then he had to go and try to insult her further by not taking her seriously as he stood lazily in the ring while holding his blunted blade with one hand. Which she then promptly knocked out of his grip before smashing her blunted blade against the back of his knee and then following it up by bring her sword back around and catching him upside the head. The blow had knocked Theon out cold and bloodied the side of his face. The cut was so bad that Maester Luwin was forced to sew the wound shut with a few loops of thread.

Arya had been terrified that the incident would bring about the end to her training in the yard. And based on the amount of yelling Theon was doing, it was a definite possibility. But then her father had surprised her. Instead of banning her from the yard, he congratulated her. And then within the same gaze Theon a through talking down too about not disrespecting one's opponent whether they be a man or woman, child or adult.

Weaving through the trees of the godswood, Arya braced herself against one of the old trees while leaning out to peer around it. The corners of her lips twitched upwards at the sight of her goal standing before the weirwood with his back to her. Jon Snow. Her brother. The one who'd asked her to sneak out of her room after night had fallen in order to meet him in the godswood. The one who said that he knew what was going on with her. Why she felt different than before. And the one who promised answers to those questions if she came out here tonight to meet with him.

But now, seeing Jon with his back turned towards her Arya had different thought. A wickedly fun thought. Crouching down silently, Arya scooped up some dirt from the ground and pressed the moist dirt between her hands until it resembled a ball. It wasn't as good as doing it with the summer snows, but it would do the trick. At least she would be able to extract some sort of vengeance on her favorite brother for being all secretive and for worrying her when he came back from his strange trip on the verge of death.

Sneaking as close as she dared, Arya brought her arm back and let her dirt missile fly right at her brothers back. Smiling in triumph, Arya watched the dirt fly right for her brother – and then continue flying right past him as he stepped off the side effectively dodging her attack with his back still towards her. "Nice try Arya." Jon called out, his back still facing her. "But your going to have to do better than that if you want to sneak up on me."

Huffing, Arya made her way out from her hiding place and shuffled her feet towards her brother. "I almost had you with that one."

Turning around, Arya felt her spirits lift as she saw the bright smile on her brothers face. "Almost. But not quite." Jon replied, stepping up to her and ruffling her hair, which made her in turn kick at his shins, which he once again evaded with ease. "But still, you managed to sneak out of your room and get here without anyone spotting you. Very impressive sister. You just won me quite a few silver stags curtesy of Robb."

Hearing the slight cracking of a stick, Arya whirled about, her eyes wide as she watched two figures, one larger and one smaller, emerge from the opposite direction of where she'd entered the godswood. 'Father…Robb? What are they doing here?' Arya thought, her head going back and forth between Jon, Robb and her father. Arya felt a brief moment of betrayal sting within her as she saw her father. 'Father isn't one to allow for the breaking of rules. And leaving my room at night and alone…that is breaking more than a few.' She thought. 'But Jon…he asked me to come. He…he didn't set this up to get me in trouble…did he?'

Her fears of a reprimand from her father were quickly quenched however as her father came forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm not entirely sure which feeling is stronger within me little wolf." Her father said, giving her the slight warm smiles that he reserved only for Arya and her siblings. "Pride at your ability to be so unfearingly and skilled to make your way here. Or disappointment in the men I assigned to you to watch you and your siblings. I wonder just how good of a job they are actually doing if you were able to give them the slip so easily."

Arya felt her fear disappear completely like snow under the high sun. 'Father…he's proud of me!' "Well," Robb cut in, ending the moment. "Now that you're here, perhaps Jon can finally tell us what brought this little gathering together."

"I suppose I might as well." Jon sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, something Arya noticed that he always did whenever he wasn't sure of something. "This is…complicated. Although that might be too simplistic of a word for our current situation. But before I say anything, I need a vow from both of you, Arya and Robb, not to say a single word about what we're about to speak about. Not even to your mother, Theon nor Sansa, Bran or Rickon. Lord Stark knows what this is about. And Robb you need to know because you're the Heir of Winterfell and Arya needs to know because she's permanently involved now."

Blinking, Arya glanced towards Robb and her father. Robb looked just as confused as she felt. But their father, he was completely straight faced. "You…you need a vow from us before you'll tell us what's going on?" Robb asked, looking back and forth between father and Jon. "And you're saying that we can't even tell the rest of our family? Why?"

"Because this is important Robb." Jon responded. "I'm not saying we won't ever tell everyone else, because we will. But right now…the fewer the people that know about this the better."

Arya kept silent as she watched the exchange. The vow wasn't a problem for her. She trusted Jon completely. And if he said that this was necessary, then she believed him. "I swear by the old gods while standing in the godswood that I will not say a word of what is spoken here tonight." She said confidently, much to the surprise of Robb.

Robb frowned at her oath before turning to their father. "Father…you will allow this?"

Arya could see the discomfort on her father's face plan as day. "Normally I would not. We are a pack, and the pack must be able to trust each completely in order to survive. Unfortunately, sometimes something will come around that we must keep secrets even from those we love. No matter how much pain it brings to others. Unintended or not." Her father answered with an obvious note of pain in his voice as his eyes briefly flickered to Jon. 'Strange…I wonder why he did that?'

Shoulder's slumping in defeat, Robb repeated her oath. "I swear by the old gods while standing within the godswood before the weirwood that I will not speak of what transpires tonight."

She could see Jon let out a breath of relief as her oldest brother finished his oath. "Alright." Jon said, once again scratching at the back of his head. "I'm…honestly not sure just how to go about this. So, I think that I'll take a page from my mentor and dive into the deep end as it were."

The saying escaped Arya, but it's meaning quickly became apparent as Jon lifted his hand. With but a gentle wave of his hand, Arya felt the winds within the godswood shift as something roared to life within her. Something powerful. Something crawling beneath her skin begging to be let out. To be used.

Robb's startled gasp brought her back to what was happening around them, and she felt her own jaw drop. Where there was once nothing, there were now four small finely made benches, one behind each of them. Eyes moving back to Jon, Arya watched in rapt fascination as Jon's hand twitched again as he mumbled something under his breath. Almost as if they'd been drawn by his unspoken command, fallen sticks and branches from around the godswood began to gather under his hand, forming into a perfect fire pile. Then once the pile was complete, Jon snapped his fingers, and in response a small flame came to life within the pile of sticks. The flame quick caught the wood and spread, creating a low burning fire in between the four of them.

Eyes wide in wonder, Arya held out her hand towards the fire. She could feel the heat of the flames on her skin, telling her that she wasn't just seeing things. Turning around, she then poked at the bench behind her. Her finger struck the hard-wooden surface, confirming that this too was not an illusion. "Well, I guess that you two have more than a few questions for me now."

"More than a few." Arya snorted as she watched her brother inspect the fire and bench just as she had. But strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, her father seemed to completely accept what was happening as he took the offered seat while Jon took the one opposite their father.

"You…you can use magic!" Robb exclaimed before Arya could, his eyes wide. "How…when?"

Leaning forward so that his forearms were resting against his knees, Jon gave their brother a small smile. "Well, as for the how…I honestly don't know. Magic is far more complex than you can possibly imagine. Even my mentor, who was far older than you can possibly imagine, knew everything there was to know about magic. And as for the when, well I was first approached by my mentor here in the godswood after Lord Stark returned from the Greyjoy Rebellion."

The pieces slowly started to come together in her mind as Arya took her offered seat. "That…that's why you left Winterfell." She said non-accusingly. "You went to go and meet with this 'mentor' of yours, didn't you?"

Nodding Jon held out his hand, to which a random stick flew up into it. "It was difficult for him to teach me here in Winterfell, because honestly he was never here in the first place. And before anyone asks me how that is possible, don't. I honestly don't know how he did it. At least not yet. I still have hundreds of tomes of his to read through before I can start to understand half of what he did. But yes, I left Winterfell to go and meet with him one last time."

"One last time?" Robb repeated, finally taking his seat. "You mean…"

"Aye." Jon nodded, and Arya could swear she could almost feel the sadness within him as if it were her own. "He's passed on from this life. But not before teaching me as much as he could in what little time we had."

"You were only gone for a moon's turn." Robb stated. "And by yours and Lord Reeds admission, you two were only on the Isle of Faces for two days. How much could he teach you?"

"A lot." Jon responded with a sly grin. "It's true we were only on the Isle for two days, but in actuality I was there for years as Harry taught me all he could. Like I said, I still have years of studying to do before I can even begin to compare myself to him."

As Arya listened to her brother, a suspicion began to form within her mind. 'A mentor that no one could see or hear besides Jon. One who could willingly come and go from Winterfell as he pleased with no one even noticing his presence. A powerfully sorcerer who by Jon's own admission has lived far longer than any of us could believe. And he lives, lived, on the Isle of Faces! There…there's only one that actually matches that description!'

"Your mentor…it was the Master of Death wasn't it!" Arya nearly shouted, rising to her feet as excitement coursed through her.

Across the fire she could see Robb about to refute her claim, but then he stopped as he no doubt began to put the pieces together just as she had. "Aye." Jon nodded, confirming her thought. "He was. And now…now that mantle has been passed down to me."

Robb's eyes widened almost comically so, and Arya knew that her own eyes were doing the same. "You," Robb began slowly, staring at their brother with a mixture of awe and fear. "You're…you're the Master of Death now?"

Jon merely nodded. "Aye, I am."

Holding out his arm, Arya gasped as the space just beyond his fingers shimmered. In the time it took her to blink, a sword had appeared in his outstretched hand. The pale white sword that he had with him ever since he'd returned from the Isle of Faces. "This," Jon began holding the sword up. "This blade is one of the things that name me as the Master of Death. There are others…but now is not the best time to go into them. But Lord Stark has seen them, so he knows that I speak true."

"Aye." Their father nodded, his posture completely relaxed as he remained seated. "It seems impossible I know. But Jon, your brother, speaks true. He is now the Master of Death. There is no denying it."

"This…this is incredible!" Robb shouted, his face breaking out into a silly smile. "The Master of Death…a member of House Stark! Just like in the legends from the Age of Heroes! No one will dare stand against us now with you by our side! But first we need to set you up with a keep of your own. And I'm sure once we spread the word that you will have no trouble finding a lady wi-"

"Robb." Jon said, gently but firmly as he stopped their brother mid-word. "I cannot be a Lord."

Robb's face fell and Arya felt her own confusion rise. "Why?" Arya asked. "Is it because you don't have the Stark name? That's stupid. You can pick your own name! Or we can give you the Stark name!

"Because I have responsibilities now, responsibilities that you cannot possibly imagine. Some that even I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around." Jon admitted. "It's not that I don't want everything you're offering, because I do. I want a simple life…but now I can't have that. I will always stand by and support House Stark in every endeavor Robb. But we also can't let what I am spread."

"Why not?" Robb asked curiously.

"Because think of it Robb," Jon continued, staring Robb right in the eye. "The Andals fear the legend of the Master of Death. Hells, they tell their children horror stories about the Master of Death to get them to behave. And fear can make people do desperate and stupid things. Not too mention, your own mother is a devout follower of the Seven. Imagine what she will think if she finds out that I'm basically, in the eyes of the Followers of the Seven, right next a demon? She already fears me because she fears that I will try and take Winterfell from you, which I swear I will never do. What would she do with the knowledge of what I am? Not to mention there are others, Tywin Lannister for one, who would either seek to control me or kill me and all those associated with me simply because I present a threat to their power. No, in time perhaps we can let it out of what I am. But for now, it's best that this secret remains between the four of us."

As much as Arya didn't want to admit it, as much as she didn't want to think the worst of her mother, Jon was right. She remembered vividly when Old Nan told them the story of the Bran the Builder, the Master of Death and his Angels. Septa Mordane, on mothers' orders, had given all of them a long lecture about how the Master of Death a demon in the skin of a man, if he even existed at all. And that they should fear him above all others. And then her mother had followed up the lecture by banning Old Nan from ever telling stories about the mythical figure again. She could only imagine what her mother or Septa Mordane would do if they were to learn that the Master of Death was not only real, but he was Jon Snow of all people.

"Whoa…" Robb breathed, breaking the silence that had descended upon the godswood. "I – I can't even imagine. Gods. This is…this is incredible. And I swear to you brother I will keep your secrets. But I have to ask, if this information is so dangerous then why have you risked exposure by telling Arya and myself about yourself? I mean, I can understand telling father, but why us?"

Arya wanted to smack her brother upside the head. He was being silly. But…he did have a point, as much as she didn't want to admit it. "Because you're going to be the future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Jon stated plainly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You need to know what kind of assests you'll have available to you when the time comes. And as for Arya…well…through circumstances beyond hers and my own control, she's a part of this now. Permanently."

"I'm involved?" Ayra squeaked, though she would never admit to doing so. "How?"

Arya could see that her question made not only Jon, but her father visibly uncomfortable as both shifted in their seats. "Arya," Jon began slowly. "I know that, despite your mother's orders, you've read and had Old Nan retell you the stories about the Master of Death and the Age of Heroes. So tell me sister, what do you remember about the Angels that followed the Master of Death?"

Arya immediately sat up straighter. Next to the tales of Visenya and Rhaeny Targaryen, the tales of the Angels of the Master of Death where some of her favorites. Strong influential warrior women who stood on equal footing side by side with one who was rumored to be next to a god. "Of course." Arya all but scoffed at the silly question. "They were strong warrior women who stood side by side with the Master of Death through everything!"

Jon nodded to her response. "Aye, they were that and a lot more. One was even his wife. They did stand by his side and protect him. And at the same time, he protected them. They were true equals. He shared with them his power and lifeforce and in turn they held shoulder his burden that he was forced to bare. The Angels are in fact a necessity for the Master of Death. Without them, well, things wouldn't end well for anyone. And now, and believe me I didn't mean for this to happen without your consent. And now…now you're one of my Angels Arya."

Arya blinked. 'What did he…what…I'm…how…who…' "What?"

Jon's smirked irked Arya as he reached out and ruffled her hair. "You're one of my Angels now Arya." Jon repeated. "In your heart you know that I'm speaking the truth of the matter. All this week you've felt different than before. You're faster, stronger and you can think of solutions to problems far faster than before. And if that wasn't enough, when I used my magic after you arrived you could feel something within you. Something calling out to you, begging to be used. It was your own magic. Supplemented and boosted by my own. And in time, I will teach you how to handle it properly. Once I can figure out my own magic that is."

Arya stared blankly at her brother as her seven name-day mind tried to wrap around what her brother had just told. "I'm…I'm an Angel now? I – I have magic?"

"Aye." Jon nodded.

Smiling broadly, Arya leapt up to her feet and embraced her brother. "That's awesome!" She exclaimed, her excitement taking over her completely. "No more silly sowing lessons or Lady etiquette with that boring Septa!"

"Not quite, little wolf." Arya nearly cringed at the sound of her fathers low rumbling voice coming from behind her. In her excitement, she'd honestly forgotten that her father and Robb were actually with them in the godswood. "You are still my daughter and still not of age. And while you feel those lessons are boring, there are many who would do anything to have you place within these walls."

"Lord Stark is right Arya." Jon continued before Arya could get a word in. "We have a long time ahead of us Arya. It won't kill you to go back to your lessons. And despite what you might think, Harry's Angels were actually quite lady like with their actions." Lowering his voice so that only the two of them could hear, Jon added a little more that made Arya smile. "Plus if you do your lessons well, I can show you how to use your magic to prank the Septa."

Feeling better, but still not great at having to go back to doing Lady things, Arya nodded and stepped back from her brother. "There is more that you need to tell her Jon." Her father added, making Arya swivel around, first to her father and then back to Jon.

"What?"

She could see her brother's face fall. "Arya…I…making you an Angel was a mistake. I should've asked you and explained everything before making the bond with you."

"A mistake?" Robb scoffed. "Come on Jon, you just gave Arya probably the greatest gift any has ever given her!"

"Aye, I suppose I have." Jon nodded with a smile, a smile which quickly faded. "But I've also taken from you. The last Master of Death lived for nearly eight thousand years Arya, as did his Angels. Odds are that we won't live that long, but we will live for a long time. Thousands of years perhaps at least."

Looking towards her father and older brother, Jon's words and the meaning behind those words slowly made sense. "Oh," she mumbled, feeling tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. "You mean…I'll, we'll, out live everyone."

"And their children and their children after them." Jon nodded sadly. "And that is not all. The bond we now share Arya, it's one of protection and balance. I share my power with you and protect you. And in return you protect me and help shoulder my burden. But, you can't have anything that would cause you to question our commitment to our cause. The magic that binds us together won't allow it. So, to that end…it's made, damn it. It's made you barren Arya. You'll never be able to have children of your own."

"Oh," Arya mumbled as she shrugged. "Well, that doesn't seem so bad."

"Perhaps now when you're young it doesn't seem so bad." Her father said, looking sadder than ever before as he stared at her. "But in the future you will know the pain of what you has been taken from you."

Biting her lip, Arya turned back to Jon. "So, basically we're going to live a lot longer than everyone else and I can't have children and those are the only downsides to this whole being an Angel thing?"

"No." Jon replied, shaking his head. "There are some other things, but I need to consult Harry's journals before we talk about them more. Cause, quite honestly, I don't even understand most of what Harry told me about the downsides."

"Okay," Arya nodded solemnly before pushing those feelings aside in favor or something else. "But in the end, we're still going to do everything we can for our brothers right?"

"And our sister Arya." Jon reminded her firmly.

Rolling her eyes, Arya shrugged. "Fine, and silly Sansa as well. Even though I doubt she'll want our help with anything…unless it's about dancing or sewing. Well, now that we've gotten all of that out of the way…when are you going to start teaching me magic brother! Can we start right now!? Because I really want to know how to turn clothes different colors! I'd love to see the look on Septa Mordane's face when I – umm, never mind."

Despite the solemn mood within the godswood, Arya smiled as she heard her brothers and even her father at her only slightly unintended slip of the tongue. 'I'm going to be an Angel!' Arya thought as she moved to the side as her father and brothers continued to discuss some of the things Jon and she could do to help Winterfell and the North as a whole. 'I am an Angel! This…this is completely awesome! I can't wait to rub this in perfect Sansa's face!'

Hiding behind a small mound of rocks, Ygritte watched as her fellow Free Folk engaged the Crows on the southern end of the Bridge of Skulls. 'Fuck, you dumb fucking cunt.' Ygritte cursed at herself as she tightened her grip on her bow. 'You just had to go and take the first fucking opportunity that presented itself to you to get south, didn't you! Now look at where the fuck you are!'

Notching an arrow, Ygritte peered around her hiding place and observed the small fight happening just on the southern side of the Gorge. The small raiding party she'd managed to find consisted of no more than three hands worth of Free Folk. Small enough to make it across the narrow bridge gather some supplies and retreat back across the bridge with hopefully none the wiser to their presence. Unfortunately for them, the Crows had for some reason decided to be at the bridge at the same time they'd just managed to step foot on the southern end. Unfortunately, the Crows numbered more than twice their own and her fellow Free Folk were being driven back as the Crows fancy steel cut through the Free Folk unmercifully. Animal hide might do good against fending off the cold, but it did little against the fancy steel of the Southern fools and the Crows.

At the start of the fight a handful of the Free Folk immediately fled south and Ygritte cursed their cowardness at leaving their fellow Free Folk to the mercy of the Crows. The only reason she wasn't amongst her fellows fighting against the Crows was because she'd wandered off after crossing the bridge to a safe spot to relieve herself. And by the time she'd managed to hitch up her pants and grab her bow, the fight was nearly over.

Watching the last of her fellow Free Folk get cut down, Ygritte lossened the tension on her bow and rolled back into her hiding place behind the rocks. "I think that's the last of the fuckers. Not much of a fight." She heard one of the Crows laugh, which made her want to come around and sink an arrow right into his eye.

"This isn't all of them." She heard another say. "Five fled south at the start of the engagement. You five, stay here and scavenge what you can from the Wildlings. Take anything useful and head back to Shadow Tower and report the Commander."

"Wait, this one here, she's still alive."

Eyes widening, Ygritte risked a look around her rocks. Her eyes widened as she saw the Crows divided into two groups. One group, the larger of the two, were slightly away from the battle while handful others were standing over one of her fellow spear-wives. She was a young woman, no older than Ygritte on her first raid. She remembered her cause she was a pretty little thing who only wanted to see the lands south of the wall and nothing more.

"She's a pretty thing." Ygritte hear the Crows laugh as one roughly kicked her in the gut. "Seems a waste if ya ask me."

"What should we do with her?" Another asked, turning to the larger group and looking towards one man in particular, more than likely the leader.

The leader shrugged. "She's a wildling. Fuck her, gut her, through her into the Gorge I don't care. The rest of you, with me. Do whatever you want then get rid of her. We have so stragglers to hunt down."

Ygritte stared in horror as the five that were left behind surrounded her fellow spear-wife. Their grins positively feral. "Well boy's," one said, taking out a dagger. "Let's have some fun!"

Unwilling to watch what was about to happen, Ygritte turned back into her hiding place. "Fuck." She muttered, knocking her head back against the hard rocks. Turning her head south, she saw the larger group slowly making it's way away from them at a leisurely pace. "Aw come one ser." One of the Crows in the larger group whined like a child. "Why do they get to have all the fun?"

"You can have fun with the next group that tries to cross. For now, shut up and lets move."

Grabbing a handful of arrows, she notched one and held the other in her bow hand as she watched the larger group slowly leave the area. Five she could handle. But against the larger group she wouldn't have a – "Ouch! Fuck! The fucking bitch bit me!"

"Well you did just try and stick your cock in her mouth! Hahaha! If you want to use that hole before this one, then knock her fucking teeth out you dumb fuck!"

Closing her eyes, she tried to keep out the sound of her fellow spear-wife being stolen repeatedly and by multiple Crows. "Fuck! This one is tight!"

"Bet she was a maid! Haha, you lucky fuck! I can't wait to get in there!"

"Yeah it's fucking - hey you dumb fuck! No cutting her until I'm through with the bitch!"

Unable to take it any longer, Ygritte spared one last look south to make sure the other group of Crows were out of eye sight before making her move.

Rolling out from behind her hiding place, Ygritte raised her bow. The five Crows had her fellow spear-wife on her hands and knees with one standing behind her taking her like a dog. Taking a breath, Ygritte leveled her bow and released. Her first arrow flew true right into the back of the head of the one who had his dagger in her speak-wife's mouth. Before the others could react, Ygritte loosened her grip on one of her arrows in her left hand and notched it before pulling back and letting it fly right into the mouth of the one who was mounting her fellow spear-wife.

By the time she'd drawn her third arrow, the remaining three finally noticed her presence. But it was too late for the one on the left as her arrow found its mark right into his eye. "Fucking cunt!" One of the Crows yelled as he tried to charge her before falling face first into the ground as his legs got tangled in his own down pants.

The other at least had the mind to put his wee cock back into his pants, but he was far too slow going about it. And Ygritte was on had her dagger buried in the fucker's throat before he could even draw his weapon. "You fucking bitch!" The one on the ground yelled as he struggled to pull up his pants. "I'm going to fucking rip open your fu-"

Flicking her wrist, Ygritte sent her dagger end over end through the air and into the man's throat. "Shut the fuck up Crow." She growled as she watched the man choke on his own blood as his hands tried desperately to remove her dagger from his throat.

Hearing a low groan, Ygritte felt her rage spike as she looked up. The Crow that'd been mounting her fellow spear-wife, the same one she'd put an arrow into through his mouth, was still alive and trying to crawl away with his pants still around his ankles. Grabbing one of the Crow's swords, Ygritte marched over to the bleeding and crawling Crow. Watching him in contempt for a moment, Ygritte stomped her foot down hard onto the middle of his back and pressed down, holding him in place. "An you Crows call us fucking savages!" Ygritte growled as she let the tip of the sword running down the Crows back. "And you go and stab an unwilling girl with your wee cock. You didn't wanna steal her or make her ye wife. Ya just wanted to spear your wee cock into something warm. Well, now ya gonna know what it feels to be speared before ye die."

Lowering the sword point just enough, Ygritte crouched down and brought her arm back to level the sword with the ground before thrusting forward right into the Crow's arse. "Now is it?" Ygritte growled as she slowly sheathed the sword into the Crows ass while keeping her weight on his back to keep him in place. "Not so pleasant when you're the one the getting speared eh?"

By the time she'd fully sheathed the sword, the Crow had long since stopped struggling as his life blood bled out onto the snowy ground. "Y – Ygritte."

Hearing her name, Ygritte immediately let go of the sword. Bile rose in her throat as she made her way back to her fellow spear-wife. Her clothes were shredded, and her maiden's blood soaked her inner thighs. Her exposed chest had a large wound just below her chest that was bleeding heavily and her face, by the old gods her face. Her cheeks were split open and several of her teeth were gone.

Kneeling down next to her, Ygritte grabbed her hand. "I'm sorry." She mumbled, bringing the dying woman's hand up to her lips.

Her spear-wife cried as she fought against the pain wracking her body. "I…I didn't want to hurt nobody. I just…I just wanted to see the south."

"I know." Ygritte mumbled, "these wounds…I ain't no healer."

"I know." The girl whispered. "Please…end it."

Nodding, Ygritte pulled out her second stone dagger and placed the tip against the girl's heart. "Be at peace with the god's sister." She mumbled before thrusting her stone dagger into the girl's heart, ending her suffering.

As she watched the life leave the young girl's eyes, Ygritte cursed the mysterious boy that'd invaded her thoughts several turns of the moon ago. She still remembered the morning clearly. She didn't know what it was that woke her, but she remembered waking up from a well-deserved sleep after a successful hunt with the image of young pretty boy ingrained in her mind. Ever since that moment, every time she closed her eyes, she saw the boy. Gods, she didn't even know who he was! All she knew was that he was south of the wall and that she needed to get to him.

And that was the only reason why she'd even decided to attach herself to this raiding group in the first place! To come south and find this boy! Although what she would do when she found him, she didn't know. He was pretty enough to be stolen. But more than anything she just wanted answers! She wanted to know why he invaded her mind so thoroughly!

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Ygritte put down the girl's hand and went about collecting what supplies she could from the crows and her fellow Free Folk. Once she'd collected all that she could, she stopped once more over the dead girl. After a moment of hesitation, she roughly marched over and cut free one of the Crows cloaks and wrapped the girl in it before heaving her corpse over her shoulder. "It may take me some time to find some wood." Ygritte spoke aloud to both herself and the corpse. "But I promise ye that I won't let ye turn into one of them."