~ As she walked past the blacksmith, she saw Bran sitting by the heart tree.* Hey, Bran. How are you doing? *She sat down next to him. *Her bag on her lap.*

~ home. There was enough land in the North for the Wildlings to occupy and build upon. However, the Northern Lords would turn on Sansa faster than anyone. Perhaps even Lady Mormont. The one solid endorsement Sansa had was Lady Lyanna Mormont. That 10 year old carried so much weight in the North. ~

~ was the the thing, now she was No One during her contracts and Arya Stark when home. None would be the wiser. Jon was gone. She hated that he left them. He was her favorite. Did she ever say it? No, but everyone knew it. He had given her Needle. They were just so close. Perhaps he would come ~

Arya had been in the courtyard with the messenger from Braavos gathering her faces. Advising her she would receive her assignments via raven. That she could continue her work in Winterfell for Sansa. It was unusual, sure. But she had told Jaquen she was Arya Stark and she was going home. But that ~

~ in the future. A few montha later a messenger came with a multitude of them. She nodded and he left.

~ name isn't Stark. Sansa is a Stark. It mattered not that she was a girl. Arya was in her room reading her letter from Jaqen H'ghar. She was requested to become No One now that the Long Night was over. She'd sent a raven with a request to reside in Winterfell and a request of faces she would need~

~ to be determined. Her sister Sansa had seen Walter Frey's face in her bag. After the execution of Baelish, none of the North best question the rule of Sansa. If they did, they would have to get past Arya and Jon. Even if Jon abdicated the Northern Throne for Sansa, the North knew no King whose ~

~ all each of them had been through. Which none of them were willing to share with one another at this point. Actually that wasn't true. Sansa had found her faces. So she'd explained the game of faces. But not much more. Whether or not the North had heard of the demise of the house of Frey was yet ~

*She had remained in Winterfell now that the Long Night was over. She was simply the executioner, her sister handed down the sentences. Not that Sansa couldn't do it. She'd executed Ramsey Snow and watched as Peter Baelish bled out on the floor. In truth she was proud of her older sister. After ~

~ I can do everything by myself. *She had proven that already.* You are not Westerosi, so find yourself on your way to King's Landing. We took in Jamie Lannister already.

Arya Stark knew not the man who approached her. He was not dressed in any clothes of a Westerosi or Braavosi person. And how he knew she was on her way to kill someone. She had told no one.* I have no idea what you're talking about. Nor do I care as to who you are. You cannot aid me in my mission. ~

~ enticing. That was until she heard the twig snap. Dismounting her white mare in an instant, she pulled Needle and calmly called out.* I know you're there. There's no sense hiding.

~ made her. It was good to have Stark emblems upon her clothes once more. It gave her the confidence she had lost over the years and had only recently regained after decimating the Freys. Mounting her horse, she exited the gates nodding at the guards.* Don't forget who I am. *The silence was ~

~ his doing. Arya did not fault Greatjon at all. Just like Robb, Smalljon had to take over as Lord when his father went off to war. Preparing her bag of faces, the clothes from one of the girls she had used in the past and the Catspaw dagger. Arya wore her warmest clothes her mother had recently ~

*She had an agenda. There were people on her list, the Umbers. Particularly Smalljon. He had killed Shaggydog and turned Rickon over to Ramsey Snow. He had murdered him in front on Jon. Beginning the Battle of Bastards. His father had been captured at the Red Wedding by the Freys. So this was not ~

// Oh o.k. (same person)