Jon:

WRITING MASTERLIST

Hey peeps! So I know that I decided to stop writing until exams finish in June and I still have a ton of writing prompts to cover (I’m so sorry I PROMISE I will get to them I love y’all so much) but I was inspired by the ending of Game of Thrones and the possible Arya sequel that could come from it, so I was like “Hey, why not try to write something?” Not sure if it will go anywhere but wanted to write something, so if you watch Game of Thrones, here ya go!

*SPOILERS*- don’t read if you haven’t watched 08.06 and don’t want to know anything!!!

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Arya Stark of Winterfell was staring out to sea, collecting her thoughts for her journey ahead. She processed her last few moments spent with her family. How she had told Jon- she didn’t think she would ever be able to see him as a Targaryen; only as the brother who had cared for her as she had cared for him- that she wouldn’t be able to meet him up at Castle Black. Her sister had also been confused, and asked her where she was going instead. 

“What’s west of Westeros?” Arya had replied. “No one knows. That’s where all the maps stop. That’s where I’m going.” Jon hugged her, and she couldn’t help the stray tear that fell down her cheek. 

In a way, Arya missed her childhood. While she had never been happy learning to be a lady with polite conversation and sewing, her family had been truly happy. Whole. Her last memories with her mother, father, Robb, and Rickon... they all felt so distant now. The remaining Stark children had only reunited a short time ago, but now they were parting ways again. She feared that her remaining siblings would become distant memories to her in time too, but Arya had decided what she would do with her life, and she would follow through. She would not stitch tapestries all day; she would create her own future, away from all the pain she had experienced in this Gods-damned land.

After Jon had been escorted away to join the Night’s Watch, she had turned to Sansa, who was still processing what Arya had said. Bran just sat there quietly.

“You’re going?” Sansa whispered.

“I have to, Sansa. I don’t want to stay in Westeros for the rest of my life. I can’t.”

“But what will I do? Bran will be in King’s Landing, and I will be left alone to be  Queen of the north. I barely coped when I stood in for Jon, and--”

“And like Jon said,” Arya interrupted, “The north is left in good hands. Sansa, the north trusts you, and you can trust them to follow you. You are the daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, who were deeply loved by the north, and now the people will love you in the same way.”

Sansa sighed. “But what if I never see you again, Arya? People have never returned from travelling west.”

“You know I can keep myself safe; I’ve always managed, and I’ll find a way to manage. And if I do find anything out there, I promise to come back and tell you of my adventures. It might be when we’re old women though.” That earned a hesitant laugh from Sansa, as she wrapped her sister in a tight hug.

“I’ll miss you so much. We never agreed on anything when we were younger, but you were always my sister, and you always will be.” Sansa’s tears now fell onto Arya’s tunic, and Arya’s fell on to Sansa’s cloak.

Bran had been quiet. Arya then turned to him, and gave him a hug. He wasn’t the adventurous, cheery Bran from her childhood, and didn’t seem to be entirely of this earth anymore, but she still appreciated the hesitant embrace he  had returned.

Arya knew then that she wouldn’t be able to stay much longer without changing her mind, so she turned and walked towards her boat, not looking back.

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Arya was snapped out of her reverie as one of her crew cleared his throat behind her.

“Pardon, milady, but the sea is getting a bit choppy. Perhaps you would like to return to your quarters?” Her first mate, Landar said from behind her.

“Please don’t call me Lady on this ship. The titles are what I wanted to leave behind.” Nevertheless, she followed Landar back down onto the deck. 

As she walked past her crew, a familiar conversation she had had years ago now ran through her mind.

---

“Where will you go?” Lady Crane had asked.

“Essos is east; Westeros is west... but what’s west of Westeros?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nobody does.” Arya replied. “It’s where all the maps stop.”

“The edge of the world, maybe.” Lady Crane wondered.

“I’d like to see that.”

---

 Arya Stark looked back, towards the darkening horizon, and she knew that’s where they were headed, wherever that may be.

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He didn’t kill the Night King, He didn’t become ruler of the Seven (Six) Kingdoms. He didn’t do jackshit that had to do with his special lineage except pass on fucking his aunt once he knew and get to ride a dragon for a bit.

So. Who gives a shit? Why did it matter? He ends up wandering around in the “true north” with the Free Folk, who don’t give a shit about lineage and houses the way folks south of the wall do.