arya stark art

jon and arya during the long night

Two types of arya in the wild

storytime with papa

Cat of the canals and her cats ♥︎

It wasn't Harren, Arya wanted to say, it was me. She had killed Chiswyck with a whisper, and she would kill two more before she was through. I'm the ghost in Harrenhal, she thought. And that night, there was one less name to hate. — A Clash of Kings - Arya VII

Part of her wanted to be a swan. The other part wanted to eat one. / "I used to be someone, but now I'm not. You can call me Cat, if you like. Who are you?" / I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth.

A Clash of Kings - Arya V / A Feast for Crows - Samwell III / A Clash of Kings - Arya X

qitn arya stark

"Harwin?" Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen's son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb [ ]

"Harwin!" Squirming, she threw herself forward, trying to wrench free of Lem's iron grip. "It's me," she shouted, "Harwin, it's me, don't you know me, don't you?" The tears came, and she found herself weeping like a baby, just like some stupid little girl. [ ]

"Who in seven hells is she supposed to be?"

"The Hand's daughter." Harwin went to one knee before her. "Arya Stark, of Winterfell."