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“It’s just a stupid sword,” she said, aloud this time…
… but it wasn’t.
Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile.”
“I wish I was home”, she said miserably. She tried so hard to be brave, to be fierce as a wolverine and all, but sometimes she felt like she was just a little girl after all.
Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.
“Is there gold hidden in the village?” she shouted as she drove the blade up through his back. “Is there silver? Gems?” She stabbed twice more. “Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?” She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. “Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? is there gold in the village?”
Her hands were red and sticky when Sandor dragged her off him. “Enough,” was all he said.
Cause your roots will rot away. And your fruit, it wont grow. Your bark will wear thin, body hollow.
“When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.”
She was born like her father, was born to be a Winterfell warrior.
“Do you remember where the heart is?”
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| ASOIAF : (AU) futurefancast|
feat. Rooney Mara as older Arya Stark
