The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. (...) The sight of them sent fear shivering through [him] sharp as a knife. He will take your sad grey eyes that have seen so much. | The Lorathi brought the blade to Arya still red with heart’s blood and wiped it clean on the front of her shift. “A girl should be bloody too. This is her work.”

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Jon and I were inseparable as children, and adolescence had only made our bond stronger. Our trip on the Titanic was to be our final goodbye before my marriage, at my mother’s behest, to some rich man from far away that I cared not a wit for. That night aboard the ship, when he gave me that dreadful ruby locket, I thought I had gone mad. Rhaegar’s Rubies had been lost for decades. It was a priceless Targaryen heirloom and said to hold his heart’s true desire. As hideous and heavy as that thing was, the revelation of Lyanna’s portrait nestled inside, and from it Jon’s true parentage, was a gift to rival any gem. I had loved Jon penniless and nameless and he had loved me. Finally we were free. Flying. A few hours after midnight, the shuddering and the screech as we hit the iceberg brought us back to Earth.

He was no true Stark, had never been one...but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. "The Hand's daughter." Harwin went to one knee before her. "Arya Stark, of Winterfell."

Arya stared down at her daughter in her arms, a grey-eyed squalling little thing. She heard footfalls in the hall and the telltale thump of Willas’ cane as he approached. The door opened, Arya looked up from her daughter’s face, and there he was. She smiled, heart beating rapidly.

She had not felt such trepidation in her husband’s presence since their wedding day, when the storm of butterflies in her stomach threatened to overwhelm her. Willas was a good man, the best man she knew save for her father and perhaps Jon, but he was a man still and men wanted sons.

“Are you pleased?” She would not apologize for her daughter like she was some lesser thing, no matter what. Willas took in a deep breath. She braced herself for disappointment. He approached her bed and then cast aside his cane, falling to his knees.

“My Arya,” he stroked her hair and kissed her before casting his gaze down at their daughter, “Our daughter. No man, woman or beast has ever felt such happiness. My heart is fit to burst.” Arya grinned. “Careful with that smile of yours, or your old husband may just fall down dead of joy.”

Oh, all the comrades that e’er I’ve had are sorry for my going away, and all the sweethearts that e’er I’ve had would wish me one more day to stay. But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not…