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In his mind, the past spinning out, Ned tried to pinpoint the exact moment where it all began.
He had once thought beginnings would look more…dramatic somehow: a scene of summer, of blooming roses and cloud-streaked skies. Certainly not his solar, enveloped in stone and wood, a fire crackling in the corner - and his youngest daughter storming in, riding on crests of emotion.
The first time, she wore heartbreak like a veil.
The doors crashed open. Lord Eddard Stark looked up from the desk, armed with a blistering reprimand for whoever dared invade his privacy at such an unholy hour, unannounced.
And then he saw who it was, and his heart was jolted with cold anticipation. For a moment, he thought she had come to him as he’d always hoped: to announce her betrothal, after all this time. “Arya? What are you-”
“How could he leave?” she cried, and her voice cracked like thunder in the room. Her eyes were wild and glazed with tears, her face pale and utterly distraught. “I know he mentioned it once, but I didn’t think – I didn’t believe...”
“Who?” Ned said, baffled.
“Jon,” she whispered, and suddenly her anguish became clear. “He left for the Watch tonight.”
As if all her bones had become broken glass, she crumpled to her knees, back bowed and shuddering, and her sobs wracked the air.
He didn’t know what to do. Part of him – cold, considering – thought that the only surprise was that it had taken so long to happen. Ned knew they were close; one was so rarely seen without the other. It had been innocent enough when they were children and playmates. Less so now, grown as they were. Arya had come of age and Ned had waited to see if Jon would do right by her. Or perhaps, Arya would take that first daring step, as she was prone to do.
As moons turned into years and neither showed the slightest inclination that marriage was on their minds, Ned was forced to concede to his lady wife: that it simply would never happen and it was time to let go.
And yet...and yet he could not leave her there, broken by despair. He had thought he would feel relief when Jon inevitably moved on, as would she. And at last, she would look to her own future, walk her own path.
But now that the day was here, now that they had been truly separated...
Ned could not leave her to this. He loved her too much.
He knelt down beside her, pushing back her hair, gently prying away her hands until she stared at him, red-eyed, her skin splotched with tear-tracks.
“Perhaps he’ll visit soon,” Ned suggested hopefully. “Or we can ride up together in a few moons and surprise him. You’ve always wanted to see the Wall, haven’t you?”
Her mouth trembled – and hardened. “No,” she said, her voice husky but fierce. “That’s not enough.”
Lord Stark sighed and stroked her head gently. “Arya, this is what he wants,” he insisted. “We should respect his wishes, as missed as he’ll be. A man of the Night’s Watch is a noble one, indeed.
“It’s a stupid wish,” Arya snapped as she drew back from him, gathering herself. Dusting away the tears, she looked him full in the face. A kind of defiance mingled with the raw pain in her eyes. “There’s nothing noble about it. He doesn’t belong at the Wall. He belongs here.”
The next two words went unsaid.
Surprised at her bold confession, Ned stood, turning his back on her. He couldn’t bear to look at her, breaking on her impossible wishes as waves shattered on the rocks.
“He’s gone, Arya,” he said, unable to keep silent. “He has chosen his path in life. It’s time to let go.”
Her footsteps echoed in his mind long after she had fled.
oOo
The next time, fury crowned her.
She came in on the wave of a storm, or what felt very much like one.
“How dare he?” she snarled as Ned stood carefully to his feet. He had never seen such a ferocious light in Arya’s eyes. It transformed her into something otherworldly, the girl replaced by a tense, unsettling tycoon. “Telling me what to do now, is he? We’ll see about that. I’ll spend my time with anyone I damn well please and I’ll not be told otherwise! Are all men this insane?”
“I can’t quite tell if you’re looking for an honest response from me,” Ned commented, keeping his voice light and unconcerned while his mind raced. “Which of Westeros’ many men of questionable sanity are you referring to?”
Anger rolled from her skin. “Jon. He’s taken it upon himself to chaperone me anytime I leave Winterfell. Thinks it’s inappropriate for a lady of my age to be found alone amongst the likes of blacksmiths and baker boys. Hah!” She paced his solar, her hands clenched by her side. “He goes and gets himself stabbed by his men and I’m the one that’s reckless? Absolute nonsense! Gendry and Hot Pie are my friends, for heaven’s sake!”
“Ah. And you’re surprised?” Ned sat on the edge of the desk casually, as if this were a normal occurrence. “You know why he does it, of course.”
Some of the violence in her expression faded, replaced by puzzlement. No, she hadn’t given any thought to the matter: only reflexive, virulent rage.
“An entirely fruitless way of going about it,” Ned continued, as if musing aloud. “Though I imagine dying and being brought back to life can wreak havoc on one’s common sense, so I wouldn’t hold this against him. Communication has never been his foremost quality - a Stark trait, apparently.” He raised his eyebrow. “It’s not easy telling someone you love them.”
Arya snorted. “I know he loves me, as I love him. We’ve been saying it since we were children.”
“Not quite the same,” he said pointedly, eyeing her.
Suddenly, her rage evaporated, leaving her bare before him, once more his little girl. “He’s not in love with me,” she whispered in disbelief.
Ned said nothing.
“Why would he have left then?”
“Why would he come back?”
“This is home. He - he isn’t Lord Commander anymore. There was nowhere else to go.” A thin, sad smile curved her mouth. “He can have anyone in the world now, Father. Why would he choose me?”
Ned smiled and walked up to her. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he poked her nose, like he used to when she barely reached his hip. “Have you seen yourself, my dear? Who wouldn’t?”
She studied him, head tilted to one side. He loved that look: sweet, quizzical, tearing through any facade one might be foolish enough to wear around her. Few people could lie to Arya: she had an uncanny ability to pluck untruth from words, save those lies she wanted to believe.
Frowning, she turned her face aside as if the words had been a blow. “It can’t be true. If it was, he wouldn’t have left me behind.” Arya wrapped her arms around herself like a shield. “I’ve only just learned how to be me. I’ve made a life for myself, found people who care for me - and I did it without him. Because I had to. Because he was gone. That’s not something I can just forget.”
Ned reached for her hand. It was cool and clammy, but despite herself, her fingers curled around his. “And is that so wrong? It’s a beautiful thing - to learn how to belong to oneself. The fact you are you and no one else is one of your greatest assets. It’s so very easy to live through another, to be a shadow of yourself, and you both may find yourselves happier that you chose the harder path. It’s lead you back to each other, hasn’t it?”
Arya didn’t speak for a long time, and he thought that perhaps he had silenced her. But when she did speak, her eyes were full of yearning. “Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle,” she said in a whisper, as if quoting some half-forgotten memory.
She smiled brightly then, pecked him gently on the cheek and turned to leave. Reaching the door, Arya looked over her shoulder, uncertainty creeping into her eyes. “What if you’re wrong? What if this is all a mistake and - and he leaves again? What then?”
Ned shrugged, “Then you take to the open road once more, the world before you, and find another castle. And what an adventure it would be!”
She considered his answer, a half-smile flitting on her lips like a secret.
And when her footsteps had long faded away, he could still hear a gentle humming echo through the halls.
oOo
The third time, she wore joy like a second skin.
She rushed in, sliding between the doors like a ghost, and she must have been there for several seconds before he noticed her.
“Arya? I thought you were out riding with Jon,” Ned said, putting aside the letter that he still had not finished. He stood, unsure of why she had come.
She shut the door, back pressed to it. There was a feverish glitter to her eyes, a faint echo of the wildness he had seen in her rage. Now however, she was neither violent nor broken but something that held more of excitement in her flush and the way she could hardly remain still.
“We’ve just come back and I couldn’t wait a moment longer to see you, to tell you the news.”
He held his breath - surely, couldn’t it be?
“Arya…?”
Across the solar she walked, moving as if she danced on the air itself, the long sweep of her hair an earthly echo of the night sky. Breathlessly, she announced, “Jon asked me to marry him.”
Ned gaped.
“And I said yes.”
With a thrilled bark of laughter, he rushed out from behind his desk to embrace her tightly. Her happiness radiated from her very self, the room feeling that much brighter in her presence. She wrapped her arms around him, letting him spin her around as she laughed loudly.
Beaming, he exclaimed, “We must tell everyone immediately. They’ve been waiting far too long!”
“Not yet!” rushed Arya, giving his hands a squeeze. “Jon can be rather traditional at times, as you know. He’s insisting on speaking with you first before we tell anyone. Out of respect, I imagine, as he surely knows no answer matters more than my own.” She rolled her eyes fondly.
“Right then - bring him in,” Ned smiled approvingly. “Let’s get this over with quickly and on to the celebrations. Gods know, I’m not getting any younger.” He made a move for the door, expecting Jon to be waiting on the other side.
A sudden tug on his hands drew him to a stop. “He doesn’t know I’m here!” she hissed. “He’s so looking forward to speaking with you. Please don’t tell him you know! He might think I spoiled his moment.”
“Well, you did spoil his moment.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that, does he?” Her head turned, picking up sounds he hadn’t.
“Quick, play along!”
She whirled and was sat at the desk while he gawped – when there was a polite, yet insistent, knock on the door. Ned straightened immediately, cleared his throat, and called out in a formal tone, “Enter!”
“-sorry, what was that last sentence?” Arya said politely, quill poised above the parchment, her face neutral.
Jon stepped over the threshold, gaze moving from one to the other as Ned paced, hands behind his back. “Pay attention, my dear. ‘And as a token of our gratitude, Winterfell will deliver four shipments of wool, six shipments of timber, and fourteen volunteers for your service.’ Good morning, Jon. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
He felt the nervousness in the air as Jon fidgeted where he stood. “My lord,” he greeted with a deep bow. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Ah, worry not,” Ned waved him off. “Just sending off a letter. I find my words have greater effect when Arya writes them. Perhaps because they can actually read her writing. My eyes aren’t quite the same anymore, I’m afraid.” He gave an emphatic sigh.
Arya raised her brow at him; he winked back.
“Is there something you need?” he asked, turning back to the younger man.
Jon blushed, shooting surreptitious glances at Arya, who nodded encouragingly. Fighting a smile, he straightened his shoulders and looked Ned in the eye. Good man. “My lord of Stark,” he began, “I’m here because I - no, that’s not right.”
He frowned, cleared his throat, and started again. “My lord of Stark,” Jon repeated. “I was wondering if I might have the honour of - that’s not it, either.”
Jon cursed under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ned shot an alarmed look at Arya, who to his surprise, had a knowing expression flitting across her face, her eyes filled with tenderness as she watched her betrothed flounder.
“Uncle,” Jon finally uttered in quiet tones, as if to keep from disturbing the universe. “I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that…that I love your daughter. I loved her as a boy: without knowing how, or when, or from where. I loved her as I took my vows and served my Watch. I loved her as I was lost somewhere in the shadows, beyond death, beyond this world.” His grey eyes darkened, trapped in an abyss that Ned could scarcely imagine.
Jon took a deep breath and looked back at Arya, his face softening, the nightmares ceding like tides. “With Arya, the shadows seem so far away. Being around her is being alive, it's breathing, it's…home. And if she loves me too, then I do not deserve it, but I do ask for your blessings for our marriage so I may, some day.”
And Ned saw with clarity how the road paved ahead of them, twisting and turning with tears and laughter and whirlwinds of emotion. He saw her chaos and his endurance, so balanced and precise that it would cleave through all the darkness and the pettiness and this dusty, deadly world. For each other.
Always for each other.
“Yes,” Ned said, in a whisper that reverberated through his study and cast the room in a brighter, softer light.
Jon’s eyes were dark and astonished as Arya jumped into his arms and happily spun them around. Ned saw her reflection framed in their depths like a promise of the days to come.
Oh, to be young and filled with the follies of youth.
“And now - to the festivities!” Ned proclaimed, clapping Jon on the back and leading him towards the solar door. “I’m not quite sure how young men such as yourself celebrate these days, but I think a hunt, followed by a grand feast, always seems to do the trick.”
Arya groaned, “Must we have a grand feast, Father? Jon despises theatrics and I’m certainly not inclined, either.”
“And I don’t want to impose,” Jon protested.
Pausing on the threshold, Ned shrugged and said simply to Jon, “Not to worry. I’m sure Winterfell can offer something to your taste.” With a nod, he turned on his heel and strolled down the corridor.
There was a bet he intended to collect from his dear wife.
Behind him, he heard Jon say tenderly, “I think it already has, you know.”
Arya laughed.