Queen of Ashes [ASOIAF]

―arya.

           𝓐rya found Amina and Jon sitting in the windowsill of the covered bridge between the armory and the Great Keep. She wiggled herself between them with a grin. Her direwolf, Nymeria, danced around below, urging Ghost to play. "Has Robb beaten the prince yet?" She asked, reclining her head against Amina.

           "Once or twice," Amina told her with a smirk. They'd all decided Prince Joffrey was an entitled brat. Only Sansa remained under his spell, but that was to be expected. "Avoiding needlework?"

          The younger girl huffed. Arya had always considered Amina her favorite sister. Maybe they shared no blood, but when Sansa was the other option, it was easy to choose. Sansa was always so difficult to get along with, but Amina shared Arya's affinity for weapons and horses. And while Sansa considered those affinities faults, Arya had no such disdain for Amina's love of dresses and histories, though she'd rather avoid them herself. "How did you get out of lessons?" Arya asked, linking her arm through her sister's.

          Amina shrugged a shoulder. "I've been given leave of my lessons with Septa Mordane. I suppose it's a consolation. When the rest of you go to the capital, I'll be left behind." Arya frowned at the reminder. She overheard her father discussing Amina with the King. Robert wanted Amina to join them; there were many more suitors in the south, after all. But Ned had insisted she was better suited for the North, and ought to stay behind to help Catelyn run the day-to-day business of Winterfell.

          "Left behind to be a Lady," Arya reminded her. With a teasing smirk, she added, "You and Robb might as well be married already." Beside them Jon intently watched Bran fight the younger prince. "I don't want to go to King's Landing, can't you beg mother to let me stay?"

          Amina ruffled the girl's hair. "I doubt it would have much effect. Besides, the capital will be good for you, just wait. When you return you'll speak half a dozen languages and have friends from every corner of the world." Hereyes glittered at the prospect, so Arya kept her mouth shut and her opinions toherself. 

          They all looked back down as Bran rushed at Tommen again. "I could do just as good as Bran," Arya insisted.

          "You're too skinny," Jon said with a laugh. "I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one."

          "Neither could Bran! They're using wooden swords."

          "She is right. We all start somewhere." Amina smiled softly.

          Below Joffrey challenged Robb to a fight with live steel, but Ser Rodrick refused. Arya wondered if it was because he knew Robb would win. The prince would surely run crying to his mother and then they might all be in trouble. "Oh, let them fight!" Amina taunted. Theon smirked up at her and she laughed. "Come, Arya. The show's over, and there's something I want to show you before Catelyn chases you down."

          Arya climbed down from the windowsill, leaning against it while she waited for Amina to follow. Amina put her hand on Jon's shoulder and squeezed. Leaning down over his shoulder, she whispered, "See you tonight." In the yard, Theon watched them with a frown. Amina blew him a kiss. Then she turned, tossed her arm 'round Arya's shoulder, and led her into the keep.

          In Amina's room, Arya made herself comfortable on the bed, stretching out like she had a hundred times before, while Amina searched though her wardrobe. She hardly remember the last time Amina had left Winterfell for any length of time. Arya was so used to sneaking into Amina's room whenever she felt like it to listen to stories until she fell asleep.

          Amina turned, and laid out her knife roll across the bed. Arya slid over to inspect them. She'd seen Amina throw them countless times, but never had she been so close. Amina slid one out and turned it over in her hand. It was silver, like all the others, but the handle was polished obsidian, not bone like the rest. "A knight gave me this knife, years ago at a tourney. This is the knife I taught myself to throw with. Take it to King's Landing with you."

          "Oh, I couldn't!" Arya protested, even as she took the knife in her hands and turned it over like Amina had. The obsidian was as black as Amina's hair, and near as shiny. It felt like she was holding something important, and she knew without a doubt this was Amina's favorite knife.

          "It's the last knife I reach for," Amina explained, as if she'd read her thoughts. "It's weighted differently from the rest. Here, I'll teach you how to throw it, and then you can practice while you're gone."

          "Do you name knives?" She asked, still studying the knife.

          "No, only swords." Amina smiled conspiratorially. "But perhaps you should be considering a good sword name too." Arya furrowed her brow, but before she could ask any questions, Amina was pulling back a tapestry on her wall, exposing a makeshift target beneath it. "Come on, let me show you how to throw her."