37

Chapter Text

Chapter 37 Fathers and Sons

Robb Stark

The walls of the Last Hearth loomed up ahead. The approach was silent. The Greatjon's ominous silence did not help put the men at ease. The Smalljon had betrayed them once; had he convinced the Greatjon to turn against them as well? It was a doubtful outcome, but it still put Robb on edge that the possibility existed. A slim one, but one nonetheless.

Few could claim to be as outspoken as the Greatjon in their loyalty to House Stark...and yet here they were. In a way, he had dreaded this confrontation more than the one with the Karstarks. It had been the Greatjon that had named him King in the North. The Smalljon had been by his side until the end. They had been...friends.

And it was the Smalljon that had delivered Rickon to the Boltons to be murdered.

It was yet another betrayal in a long list of betrayals that tormented Robb's thoughts, when he let it. Theon Greyjoy, Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, Smalljon Umber, Rickard Karstark, even his own mother had betrayed him once in a rather spectacular fashion at that as well.

Was he that blind? Or just that unlucky? Would he continue to be betrayed? It was a question that haunted his mind and kept sleep from him, when he let it. Father's presence, even when he was mad, kept him sane. Jon's unflinching faith in him, in this new future that they were forging for themselves...these things were a balm to his tormented mind.

They passed the gates of the Last Hearth and entered the courtyard. The Stark guards were in front of them, followed by Jon and Father. He was behind them, while Lord Reed had elected to remain outside at the rear of their group with Rickard Karstark. Bran and Jojen were with them doing...doing whatever it was a Three Eyed Raven and a Greenseer did...

He shook his head. Their group had grown immense, the further north they went. They weren't a group now, they were an army, and eventually relief for the men of the Night's Watch. Men and supplies enough to man the Wall properly and prepare for the Others.

But that was something to focus on for later, Robb could see Greatjon now. He stood there amidst a group of Umber men awaiting them. The men were armed but didn't look like they were preparing for a fight. As for the Greatjon himself, he didn't look armed, he stood tall in the midst of his men, his face blank and his eyes flickering from father and to the Targaryen banner that flew next to the Stark direwolf.

Father and Jon dismounted, they shared a look and then Father stepped forward, his face stony and blank.

Greatjon stepped forward to meet them.

"Lord Umber," father intoned gravely, when he was near enough.

"The Last Hearth is yours, Lord Stark," the Greatjon said gravely, falling to his knees and bowing his head.

Father looked at the kneeling lord and nodded, "Thank you, my lord," he answered graciously.

For Robb, it was a relief to hear the words spoken, but...the Greatjon remained down on both his knees, his shoulders were slumped. He looked...defeated. Robb had never seen him like this.

Father frowned at the submissiveness of the Greatjon, but he kept his face blank as he spoke, "Lord Umber....you were silent. We sent many ravens and yet you remained silent. Why were you silent?" he asked him gravely.

The Greatjon's face flushed with shame, and he remained kneeing as he answered, "My son...my son threw away thousands of years worth of loyalty...he did things...he stood with the fucking Boltons. After that...what could I say to make it right?" he sighed deeply, "Better to be silent....I will accept whatever punishment you deem right and just, Lord Stark." He bowed his head in complete defeat and submission.

It was painful for Robb to see the loud and bombastic Lord so reduced and quiet. Even as a child the times Greatjon had come to Winterfell, he'd been loud and rambunctious. Robb and his siblings had always loved his visits, as much as it had annoyed mother's sensibilities at times. He didn't hold Smalljon's actions against him, Greatjon was a loyal and good man...not like his son, who had proved himself false.

"Get up, Jon," Father said in a sympathetic tone, his face warming, "We have much to talk about."

"Aye, my Lord," he intoned submissively, as he slowly rose to his feet. He cast a look at Jon and frowned, he gave him a long searching look, before finding his voice, "You're Lyanna's son? If she went willingly then why the fuck did Brandon go to King's Landing in such a rage?" questioned the Greatjon, sounding somewhat more like himself now.

Jon shook his head, "Whatever my Uncle was thinking, there's no one left alive that can give us a proper answer...and there are much more pressing issues at hand."

Greatjon's face tightened and then he fell back into the defeated look from before, "Aye...your Grace. Follow me then, my solar is this way," he gestured forward, into the Last Hearth.

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In the Greatjon's solar, there was a discomforted maid carrying a young boy waiting for them there. The boy could not have been more than two years old, if that, but his eyes held more focus than Robb had ever seen in someone so young.

"Welcome your Grace, we've been waiting for you," the small boy spoke in high pitched, childish voice as they entered.

Robb goggled and gaped, at the very articulate small boy. Father seemed just as taken aback, while Greatjon looked discomforted now. Well, more discomforted than before.

Jon frowned and stared for a moment before saying, "Ned?"

So this was Ned Umber? Robb eyed the young boy unsure of what help such a young child could give them. Jon had been adamant that Ned could help them. Not that with the way things were going they needed much help. The Greatjon was being very reasonable and obedient.

"Yes, your Grace," the small boy- Ned apparently, confirmed with a wobble of his head.

Jon raised an eyebrow at him, "You're very...young."

Young Ned raised his hands and looked at them, "Aye, young. I was small before. I'm even younger- and smaller now..." he sighed unhappily.

"This seems very...strange?" Jon questioned warily.

Young Ned snorted, "I'm small, weak and my good days are the ones were I manage not to piss myself. My really good days are when I manage not to shit myself..." he retorted in exasperated disgust.

Jon coughed behind his hand, concealing a smile, "It's all part of the plan. We could have all stayed dead."

Young Ned sighed and nodded, "Still better than being dead," he paused and then cast a lecherous look at his nursemaid and then winked at Jon, "Though there are some advantages to being so small again."

A child that young should not have been capable of such a lecherous look....

Jon guffawed, "Yes, apparently," he said as the nursemaid turned an interesting shade of red.

"Also, I'm not the only one that's so young again. Can you imagine Lyanna's reaction at being so small again?" Young Ned asked with trepidation.

Jon looked taken aback and then winced, "She's not going to be happy."

Ned Umber snorted and then shook his head, "No offense....but better you than me, your Grace."

Jon winced again and frowned, "Great...another thing to look forward to," he stated dourly, sounding more like the old Jon, then their new King.

"Lyanna?" asked Greatjon in confusion.

"Lyanna Mormont, Lady of Bear Island- or former Lady. Her mother and sisters are alive again," Jon explained offhandedly.

Jon waved away any more questions and turned back to the issues at hand, namely the Smalljon and the coming Winter.

The nursemaid placed young Ned on the table, next to his grandfather and left them to discuss the issues. Robb's disquiet at Greatjon's previous expressions and discomfort paled as they finally sat and he began speaking.

"...I beat him bloody...I almost made myself a Kinslayer. A Kinslayer and betrayer! My ancestors will beat me bloody when I die now, for how low I've allowed our House to fall..." the Greatjon shook his head, his voice sounded dismal and dismayed.

It was still jarring and unnatural to see how the Greatjon's great booming nature had been tempered so. Not that he could blame the Greatjon for his shame.

"But you didn't Jon," Father cut in, trying to reassure the Greatjon.

He snorted angrily, "That damned boy! He came to me after we returned, he told me such things! When he told me what he did I was so angry! I raised him better than that! To break our vows to you? To stand with godsdamned fucking Boltons?!" he shook as he raged, "The next thing I know, five of my men were dragging me off of him. I beat him bloody- I broke his jaw...the maester had a hell of a time putting him back together. Afterwards..." he cast a glance at Jon, and then jerked a thumb at young Ned, "this one started talking about Dragons and White Walkers and the fucking Dead and I thought I was going mad...then I got your ravens and...well..." he shrugged, "I realised the world's gone mad."

"I wouldn't go that far....but it isn't the world we thought it was," Jon admitted grudgingly.

"Aye, that's true," added Father with a mournful nod of his head. Robb could only nod along with his father at that truth.

Things turned towards what was next and with a minimal effort and many 'yes, my lord' or 'yes, your grace' from the Greatjon, explanations were given, allies were named, a certain Lion was named and still there was little reaction from Greatjon, even though Father started twitching then. Peace with the Wildlings was mentioned and still Greatjon remained quiet and obedient, much to Robb's immense surprise. The bare bones of a plan were made for their travel to the Wall. As for the Smalljon's fate...

"...he can take the Black and that will be end of it," Jon said cutting off the Greatjon's darker punishment options that he offered in shame and contrition.

Greatjon sat there for a minute, his face blank and unblinking, before turning to Jon and admitting gruffly, "You may be a fucking Targaryen but there's enough of the North in you for me to like you. You didn't have to give my Ned another chance- but you did!" he boomed, sounding more like himself. He shook his head disbelievingly, "You were betrayed. You could have attained me and mine, and not a Lord in the North or South would have called it unfair or unjust." The Greatjon took a deep breath, "For that and that alone, you would have had my fealty..." he raised his hands gestured at them all all, "But we have this second chance as well because of you. We will be loyal. I will never let our fealty waver ever again. We stand with you till the end- no matter what happens next."

Now this sounded more like the Greatjon that Robb knew. The sure and confident tone that brooked no argument had always been a part of the Greatjon.

Jon nodded, "And I accept your fealty, freely given, and I will make sure that you have no reason to question your fealty to me."

And just like that the North was finally, and rightly, united once more behind Father and by consequence, behind Jon.

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Arya Stark

Arya was unhappy with how things had changed, she had become used to respect in the last life, and then they were back in Winterfell and she was Arya Underfoot again. That hadn't actually been a bad thing. It had almost been idyllic, even with the threat of the Others hanging over them and need to rush to bring the Kingdoms together under Jon. The Stark men she'd always known had been clueless of the truth. Then Lord Manderly and Reed had come...and the Stark men had seen how they dealt with her with respect and wariness. Most had realised that something was different. They'd started to treat her with respect without knowing the truth.

But then came the Riverlanders.

They came to Winterfell, and the respect had turned to fear as the Riverlanders practically shouted out the truth from the top of the parapets. Uncle Edmure's new song, the Rock of Doom, hadn't helped considering it spoke of her actions at the Twins as well.

She still didn't know how to react to how much they were singing her praises. But she did know that she wasn't enjoying being so feared by those that she had considered near and dear to her. Every time she saw Fat Tom now, he seemed to be on the verge of swallowing his tongue in fear. Even mother was afraid of her now.

She sighed, it had been fun, pretending to be who she had been once. Little Arya Underfoot. To be young and carefree again...before all the bad things happened.

These days, for the most part, she didn't have anything to do in Winterfell. Sansa dealt with everything and instead Arya spent most of her time training, getting back into shape and teaching her young body all the tricks she'd known as a grown woman. But she was listless now and wandering aimlessly today. Gendry was making her gift, she was humoring him and pretending that she didn't know that he was reforging Needle for her. She had gotten bored sitting with Shireen. The scarred girl was enjoying her stay in Winterfell, usually spending her time either with Ser Davos or with Rickon and Osha. For some reason Rickon had taken a liking to her scars. Osha wasn't afraid of them, though the other Wildlings were terrified to approach her. They'd seen Greyscale beyond the Wall and weren't convinced that it wouldn't spread to them. Hot Pie was busy in the kitchens, and Lommy was busy being molded into a reasonably competent swordsman along with the rest of Ser Roderick's recruits.

She paused, Lommy had been a pleasant surprise, even if he'd been nasty to her a lot the time, when she had been pretending to be a Night's Watch recruit. He'd still been a friend...sort of...she'd been angry with Pollivar when he murder Lommy- more so that he'd used Needle to do it as well! Well he'd gotten the pointy end, she could still kill him again now- that was something to look forward to...but Father probably wouldn't want to hear about it...

Lost in thoughts of revenge, she found herself coming to one of the sewing rooms in the castle. Or at least that's what she'd always called them. She'd always hated these rooms growing up, sewing was boring and Septa Mordane had always picked on her while praising perfect Sansa. A small part of her had enjoyed seeing the Septa be disappointed with the new Sansa and then terrified of little Underfoot once the Riverlanders had told her all that she'd done at the Twins. At least in the beginning, now it just saddened her to see the Septa so terrified. She sighed and entered the room. Inside she found it almost empty, Old Nan was sitting alone on a chair sewing. Arya stood there for a few moments just watching the old woman sew.

Old Nan looked up and saw her, "Well come on, girl, bring a chair and come sit by me," she ordered her without hesitation.

She pulled up a chair and sat next to the old woman, grateful for the unchanging manner that she was being treated. Old Nan had always and still treated her the same.

"I can see the worry in your face, Arya," Old Nan said slowly putting aside her sewing.

Arya nodded solemnly.

"Your mother's still afraid, isn't she? They all are, aren't they," Old Nan stated sympathetically.

"I can understand why they're afraid," she admitted mournfully.

A very deep and dark part of her was fearful of how father would react. Would he be disappointed? Angry? Ashamed? She didn't think that she could deal with that. That would be too much for her. And Robb? She didn't know what he would do...would he be happy with what she did to the Freys?

Old Nan was staring at her now, "And you're more afraid of what my Ned will think as well," she added evenly.

Arya started, before nodding slowly.

"He's your father. Ned can be thick skulled at times, but that's normal for him. As for the rest...they think that you would actually hurt them? The more fools them," scoffed Old Nan in disgusted annoyance, "Especially that mother of your's, for thinking such absurd things. You are and will always be Arya Stark. My Ned taught you well, you're only dangerous to our enemies. You'd never hurt any of us."

Arya gave her a small smile, of all the people to understand, it warmed her heart that Old Nan did.

"Don't you worry, your mother will come around eventually, best to give her time," Old Nan continued unabated, "Now that Gendry of yours seems like a good lad," she finished with aplomb.

Arya's face froze at the sudden change of topic, "He's...nice."

Old Nan snorted, "Nice? Yes, because all men wish to known as 'nice'," she paused and gave Arya a mysterious smile, "Though I didn't take you to be the kind of girl that likes their men so solidly build. Blacksmith's apprentices always have such big hard muscles. I always thought you'd prefer someone that was more wiry."

Arya felt her cheeks heating up, at Old Nan's sudden change of subject. Gendry was not something anyone had wanted to discuss with her these days. Mother had been avoiding the subject- the whole Faceless issue was more pressing, but she expected it was something that would be broached latter on...if mother ever managed to pull herself back together. Father would have words with her as well, once he returned.

"...But I'm woman enough to admit that even I enjoy big muscles on my men as well," Old Nan admitted with a soft cackle.

Arya's face reddened, as her thoughts were brought back to the present. Speaking about such matters with Old Nan was not something she had ever imagined she would ever do.

"You know, there was this knight that I knew...so many years ago. He was built like a tower, square hard shoulders and such big arms. A southerner true, but never had I met such a humble, kind hearted man- then or now," she gave Arya a mischievous wink, as Arya turned an even deeper shade of red.

Old Nan laughed at her discomfort, "Oh my..." she paused as the smile disappeared and she gave Arya a deep thoughtful look, "I was going to say, my sweet summer child...but you're not a summer child any more...are you?"

The heat in her cheeks lessened as she shook her head mournfully.

Old Nan looked at her gravely, "No, you've seen the worst of Winter. Moreso than even I, with all my years, have seen, haven't you?"

Arya shrugged, "Jon and Sansa saw worse."

Old Nan nodded, "That's true, doesn't make my words wrong though."

Arya didn't answer, she just nodded in agreement.

Silence settled on them as they both become lost in their thoughts. It was broken eventually by Old Nan.

"What happened to Willas? I know I died here, so did so many others, but what happened to my Willas?" Old Nan asked with thinned lips, "What happened after the Ironborn came?"

Arya took a deep breath, "Bran and Rickon escaped with Hodor and Osha and the Reeds. They made their way north. Hodor went with Bran beyond the Wall..."

Old Nan looked stricken now at the thought of Hodor beyond the Wall.

"...He carried Bran to the lair of the Three Eyed Raven and the Children of the Forest-"

"The Children? They were with the Children of the Forest?" Old Nan grinned, interrupting her. The thought of the Children momentarily overrode the darkness of the topic.

Arya nodded, yes that would catch her attention, she'd spoken so many times about them, the woman would finally be vindicated that she was right about them still being around.

She continued the tale that Bran had told her, "They were hidden away for a while in cave as Bran learned from the old Three Eyed Raven, then...Bran says it was his fault. The Night King personally came for him." she said gravely.

Old Nan's excitement over the revelation of the Children of the Forest disappeared and she came to sit at the edge of chair, her hands clenched together in trepidation.

"There was a fight. The Children died protecting them..so did Summer, but there was a passage out of the cave with a single door. Hodor dragged him out and then held the door long enough for Bran and Meera to escape."

Old Nan looked aghast, sorrow aging her already old features. She was silent for a long time before finally speaking, "Old Gods protect us...I always knew that the boy was just like his great grandfather. I could always see it. Dying for his friends just he did," she lamented sadly, shaking her head, "I always knew he'd have a bad end. I tried to protect him so much...I wouldn't even let him pick up a sword and shield...and it still didn't work."

Now Arya was confused, bad end? She gave Old Nan a searching look, "Didn't your husband die of a chill? In his bed?"

Old Nan looked a little chagrined, before admitting, "Yes, he did."

Arya frowned, "Then what bad end are you talking about?" she asked in confusion.

Old Nan squirmed more in her chair and then sighed, she shrugged, as if coming to a decision, "My husband wasn't Willas's great grandfather."

Arya started and gaped at her in surprise, "What?"

"I've never told anyone this before. My first born son, wasn't my husband's," she explained in a tone that belied how shocking the words were to Arya.

Old Nan had cuckolded her husband? Old Nan?!This...this...was...disappointing...what happened to all her tales of loyalty?

Arya's disappointment must have showed on her face because, Old Nan scowled at her, she reached forward and cuffed Arya lightly on the ear, "And before you start getting all high and mighty with me, I broke no vows to my husband. He knew that my son was never his and he loved me enough to marry me still. I was never going to marry my knight, I was never going to leave Winterfell," she huffed unhappily.

Leave Winterfell?! She tried to imagine growing up without Old Nan and her tales and couldn't. Arya bit her lip, "Then who was he? What happened?"

Old Nan's cheeks grew red as she admitted sheepishly, "It was that strong knight I was telling you about. He was only visiting Winterfell."

Arya's mind went to a dark place, she'd seen the darkness of men's souls after escaping from King's Landing. A knight's vows were only words, "Did he...did he..."

Old Nan understood Arya's hesitation and her eyes hardened and anger flashed in them, "Never. He was the very best of men."

And again Arya was confused, "If he was a good man, then why'd he dishonor you and leave?"

"Simple. I never told him I was with child," she answered with a simple shrug.

"Why?"

"He was leaving Winterfell, I was never going to leave my home. Bran the Builder may have been the one to have built Winterfell, but my kin were right by his side as he did it. We've been here as long as you Starks. We've always served your house and your kin have always done right by us. I wasn't about to throw that away- not even for love."

Arya was impressed, "I didn't know that."

"Home is home, child, High born or Smallfolk, we all have our duties, and the Starks have always kept their word. Southern Kings come and go and the Starks endure. And we stand with you." Old Nan finished vehemently.

Arya blinked, she'd never heard it put this way. Back to the issue at hand, "Oh, alright. So who was he?"

A bright smile came to her old face, "Oh, he was from King's Landing. Born and raised in Flea Bottom. He rose up and became a knight thanks to a kind old knight that made him his squire. When he became a knight, traveled all across Westeros with his squire, from Dorne to the Wall," she paused and chuckled, "they actually made it all the way from Dorne to Wall. They'd seen Starfall and Sunspear and they made it all the way to Castle Black."

"That's impressive," Arya said with an envious edge.

Old Nan nodded, "Aye it is, a part of me wanted to join them, but the road was no place for an expectant mother, and if I'd left I'd never have come back. It was a hard choice, but I've never really regretted it...anyway, my knight was such a kind hearted and honest man, I'd not expected a Southerner to be like that. Honest to a fault, and a man that went out of his way to keep his vows, no matter what it cost him. He was more dour than I expected when I first met him, he was trying to forget a woman, when he came here," she sighed heavily then snorted, "his strange little squire didn't help my expectations either...a strange, strange boy that shaved his head. What kind of boy chooses to shave their own head?"

Arya shrugged, disquieted by Old Nan's descriptions. Though it all sounded somewhat familiar for some reason.

"His squire truly was a strange one, much too cheeky for such a small and lithe boy. He got into more than his fair share of scraps because of it, and never once did his Ser clout his ears or give him the back of his hand. Even with me, he took several liberties. So one day, I took him across my knee and I tanned his hide just as I'd seen my mother do to my brothers, when they misbehaved. The boy couldn't sit still for a whole day afterwards...but at least he learned to keep his tongue stilled. Got into less fights after that as well," Old Nan admitted with an amused and musing tone.

"Everyone always wants to hit Squires," Arya stated with an amused grin.

Old Nan frowned, "They do? Well that explains a lot..." she finished thoughtfully.

"At least that's what I've been told," she answered with a shrug. Pod had told her that. And Bronn had told him that- after hitting him. "So what was his name?" Arya asked, and how hadn't she heard of him before?

Old Nan gave her a very long look, "He was a very tall knight with a strange bald squire. I thought I was rather obvious in my descriptions of them," she huffed in annoyance.

Arya looked at her blankly, and shook her head, who was she talking about?

When she didn't answer, Old Nan gave her another disappointed look, "I'd have expected a Faceless Man to be more intelligent than this. How many famous knights have come to Winterfell? And how many stayed for any amount of time?"

Arya frowned, the only knight that came to mind was the Kingslayer, and he was much too young to be Hodor's great grandfather.

Old Nan gave an exasperated shake of her head, "Perhaps you still are a summer child."

Arya gave her an offended look at that.

"Duncan. It was Duncan the Tall. My dear, kind, and sweet Duncan," Old Nan admitted with a heartfelt sigh, "He had such broad and strong shoulders- I couldn't resist him."

Arya's mind came to a crashing halt at the admission. What the actual fuck....Old Nan and Ser Duncan the Tall?! Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Duncan?! That Duncan? The greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms?

Her face must have betrayed her questions, because Old Nan nodded her head, "Yes, the Duncan the Tall. The knight who never forgot his vows. Why do you think that I repeated his stories so many times to all of you? He deserves to be remembered, him more than most men." She stopped and a stricken look came to her face, "When news of Summerhall came, it had been so many years since I'd seen him last...yet I was inconsolable, I cried myself to sleep for an entire moon. It was as honorable an end as all knights want...but Duncan didn't deserve that. He should have died in his sleep, at peace and surrounded by all those that loved him."

Arya was at a loss for words, Old Nan's tales of Ser Duncan had always been one of their favorites, especially Bran's. At least before he became the Three Eyed Raven. And now she was telling her that Ser Duncan the Tall was Hodor's great grandfather?!

"When I first saw Willas, I realised he had the same gentle heart that Duncan had had. That was what I loved most about Duncan, his gentle heart," Old Nan sighed mournfully.

"Gentle? He was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard...I don't think gentle was something anyone would say to describe him," Arya questioned baffled at Old Nan's description.

"So? All men fight. Not all men like it. Duncan was good at it, but he didn't enjoy it."

Arya sat back in her chair, Jon had said the same thing. It seemed the best ones never liked to fight. She was overwhelmed by all that she'd heard now. Old Nan and Duncan the Tall. That had come out of nowhere to hit her. The stories of Ser Duncan the Tall and Aego-

She froze, running through all that Old Nan had told her. She didn't...

She gave Old Nan a gaping look, "You tanned the hide of his squire?! His squire? Aegon Targaryen?!"

Old Nan shrugged nonchalantly, "I didn't know that at the time- but I'll admit that when the truth came out that his squire had been a Royal Prince, I was more than a little discomforted. Then he went and became King. Yes...those were some interesting days. Wasn't really sure what to do about it at the time. Oh, I knew that Duncan wouldn't have let Egg do anything to me, and he'd been a young boy at the time, still made for some disquieting moments at the time," she admitted simply.

Arya now gaped in awe of Old Nan, "Wow."

Old Nan grinned at her, "You're the first person I've ever told this story to."

Arya closed her mouth and said, "Thank you."

"It's easy to get lost in old memories when you're my age- and it's good to share them with someone," Old Nan admitted, and then she gave Arya deep look, "But you shouldn't be worrying so at your age," Old Nan reassuringly patted her hand, "And don't you worry about my Ned, if he has a problem with you, I'll knock some sense into that thick skull of his. Just like I did to Aegon Targaryen."

Arya giggled, just imagining the Lord of Winterfell being taken to task by Old Nan.

Old Nan gave her a dry look, "Don't think I won't do it."

"I know you would," Arya retorted, with a pleased smile, "Not even Kings are safe from you," she finished cheekily.

Old Nan chuckled and nodded, "Good. Now get off with you, I'm sure you have more important things to do than sit and gossip with an old woman lost in old memories...unless you're finally going to tell me about this House of Black and White that Luwin's been going on and on about?"

Arya shook her head ruefully, "Still not going to tell you- or Maester Luwin about that."

"Then get going," Old Nan shooed her, "I'm sure that muscled man of your's wouldn't mind spending more time with you."

Arya blushed and didn't answer her, she just bowed her head and left the old women to her sewing and her memories.