Eventual Spring

Spring's Discord

Arya

She was still having trouble getting used to the warm weather, the various colors of wild flowers, and the blue blue skies year-round in Winterfell. It seemed her family's words were no longer relevant.

Winter is coming.

No, it wasn't. It had already came and went. The Maesters had officially declared it Spring. Perhaps they could adopt new words now.

"My Lady, what would you have me do with the sheets?" A servant asks, nose scrunched in disgust. Arya looks up from her reverie to peruse the sheets in question. Soiled. Ruined.

"Wash them, thoroughly. Twice." She advises, and the woman nods grimly.

Winterfell was finally free of guests. She was more than glad to have her home back.

Mostly, they kept to themselves in Winterfell, safe and sound behind the walls. They were very careful as to who was let in. She preferred it that way. Arya had learned her lesson well. Arya kept her own family safe at all costs.

But many many new people had come to settle in the now temperate North in the surrounding districts, and she still had her duties. Now every three moons, they hosted a Petitioning. Those with serious requests, disputes that could not be settled, and crimes they needed sentencing for would attend. She never quite looked forward to the chore, but she understood the importance. It was a duty of the Warden of Winterfell. She was the authority in the North. And all knew it. She was not questioned. The fate of the Boltons saw to that.

Everyone knew.

But no one spoke of it. She made sure of that as well.

She and Gendry had wiped out the entire line. The women and children spared could no longer claim the name Bolton and live. The Starks were once again the voice and muscle of the North.

And over time, the gatherings had become a pleasant diversion, she had come to look forward to speaking with the people, to being needed. They'd developed a reputation for fairness. That, coupled with the more moderate weather and open land, had drawn new citizens by the droves. The North was prospering, and Winterfell was at the center. She was proud.

But she was happiest when the petitioners went home and the land was peaceful once more. If she had it her way, it would only be the three of them at all times. Gendry, Alana, and her.

After all these years, Arya could honestly say she was content. She and Gendry were perfect together. Once she'd let him in, she'd been able to relax somewhat. She trusted in their bond and their love. He'd long since stopped attending the hearings and the meetings, stopped reading the paperwork and the political correspondence. But he listened when she was troubled or torn, held her when she needed it, and made love to her till she no longer cared about petty squabbles. He told her every day how he loved her and worshipped her. And she made sure he knew it back.

And Alana was a true miracle. Every minute of every day she thanked the Gods for gifting her with a child. There was a time when she believed she would never have one. Alanna was smart as anything. Always curious. Beautiful like her grandmother, dark hair with Arya's own grey eyes. She was kind and easy with a smile, a little lady through and through.

In short, Arya had trouble finding common ground with her.

As a babe, Mother and daughter were inseparable. She had taken joy in finding out what foods her daughter liked best, hearing Alana's first words, and introducing her to the horses.

But one day, something had changed. Her daughter seemed overly sensitive at every correction, obedient but shy at every lesson she taught. Her daughter began to seek her out less and less, preferring her father's company.