#ROBB AND NYMERIA BEING THE PACK ALPHAS TOGETHER

[wyclair]

werewolf!robb stark is so real to me

[laboratorioautoral]

Continuation to the last Dark Jon Prompt

This one is dedicated to @circe1fanatic and it’s M rated for a reason. If you are looking for cute couples and healthy relationships, you better check somewhere else. You’ve been warned.

The journey back North was worst than she had anticipated. Not because of the weather, nor the company, but because for most of the time Arya was afraid of what she would find once she reached Winterfell.

After seeing Robb’s mutilated body being paraded in front of traitors, her mother being thrown in the river and all the butchery of the Red Wedding, to have hope of finding what remained of her family had a tasted of doom.

Gendry tried to keep her spirits up, at leas while they were south of the Neck. He didn’t like the cold weather or the snow, but to Arya those were good old friends.

They managed to reach Winterfell’s gates at the same time that the blizzard took over the land. It was a good omen or at least a very fortunate coincidence. Arya doubted Gendry would survive another night in the wild, especially with such a harsh weather.

As expected, the guards tried to prevent her from entering the castle, but with Nymeria and Gendry by her side Arya’s will was not to be ignored. The she-wolf was an evidence of her identity, or at least too damn wild and ferocious to convince the guards that staying on her mistress way wasn’t a good idea.

They were taken inside the Great Hall by servants that Arya didn’t remember. There was a fire waiting for them and as Arya removed her gloves to warm her hands by the fireplace, she looked directly at one of the guards.

“Tell His Grace of my arrival.” Arya said with the confidence only nobility could afford. “Have the cookers preparing us something to eat as well.”

“And who should I announce?” The guard looked at her with a hint of disdain. If Nymeria had entered the hall with them, that stupid man would never dare to speak to her like that.

Arya’s left hand rested on Needle’s hilt, letting it show that she wasn’t someone to be disrespected.

“Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell, younger daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark.” She said in a deadly cold tone. “If you don’t want my brother to have you hanged, than you better be fast about it.”

Arya wasn’t sure if it was her tone of threat or the sight of the sword what made the man’s face get pale. The only thing she knew what that at the mention of her name, the guard run and disappeared into the dark hallways as if he was running for his life.

As she waited, Arya’s heart started to beat as fast as a war drum. She felt suddenly anxious and self-aware. Her hands tried to make her hair somewhat presentable without much success. Gendry looked at her and considered a mockery, but in the end he remained quiet. It wasn’t his place to interfere with her family’s matters.

The white wolf arrived first. Ghost was now a monstrous beast as big as a horse and he wasn’t pleased with the smell of strangers. Arya suspected that Nymeria’s smell was to blame for his defensive position. He wasn’t used to be around other wolves.

From the dark hallways Jon emerged. It took her a second to recognize him under the full beard, heavy furs and long hair pulled back as her father used to wear. He was no longer a green boy with snow melting in his hair. Something about his face was cold and hard like the Wall itself, but as soon as his eyes scanned her face, something in him softened and Jon opened his arms to receive her.

Arya couldn’t tell for how long they remained like that; holding each other as if they were too afraid to wake up and find out it had all been a dream. His smell, his warmth, the feeling of his fingers running through her hair were enough for her to believe that it was all real.

“Welcome home.” Jon said and his voice warmed her inside like a cup of mulled wine would have done.

“I’ve missed you so much.” They said it at the same time and Arya wished that moment to last forever.

She couldn’t have dreamed of anything sweeter than their reunion, but as soon as Jon let go of her and his eyes noticed Gendry’s presence in the hall, Arya saw a sudden change in her brother’s eyes.

Jon straightened his back and his eyes became cold. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as if he was convinced that Gendry was somehow a threat to be eliminated. That man in front of her was not Jon Snow. That was the King in The North and he didn’t like strangers walking into his house, or staying by her side.

Later that day, when they were finally alone, Arya decided to give Jon an explanation.

“He is a friend.” She said as Jon handed her a horn of strong ale. “We’ve met when I escaped King’s Landing. When I returned to Westeros, I found him at an in half way to the North. He insisted to escort me.”

“Then I suppose I should thank him for his services.” Jon said soberly as he avoided to look her in the eyes. “He will have silver and a horse in the morning.”

“I didn’t promise him silver.” Arya replied and Jon finally looked at her. He seemed like a man that had been informed of a robbery in his property. “I said you would give him a position in the household. He  is a talented blacksmith. Those can be quite handy in war time.”

“I’ll see what use I can have for him.” Jon tried to smile. “I won’t let his services to House Stark go unrewarded.”

Jon honored his word, even if he made it no secret that he despised Gendry. Arya couldn’t tell why he was acting like that, but she hadn’t been the only one to notice Jon’s odd behavior.

Bran was friendly enough and it brought an unexplainable joy to her heart to see her little brother again. Although that was a moment for celebration and happiness, Arya soon learned that a great deal of bitterness and distrust had poisoned Bran and Jon’s relationship. All because of the Throne and the right to be called King.

“He usurped us.” Bran once told her. “Open your eyes! I refuse to believe you to be this naive!”

“What would you have me do?” Arya argued with exasperation. “He claimed Winterfell back and he has Robb’s will. I don’t see what can be done to change this and I’m not convinced it should be changed.”

“A will and a sword are not enough to suppress blood rights. I am Robb’s legitimate heir.” Bran insisted. “Your own rights are being affected by Jon’s intransigence.”

“I do not care for the throne or the title.” Arya said it but deep down she knew Bran to be right. “He has the experience and the acceptance of other lords.”

“Than you will see Rhaegar’s son usurping us, suppressing our lineage and do nothing about it?” Bran’s anger brought to surface a secret he had been keeping to himself. A secret that could bring the Seven Kingdoms down and change everything for the Starks.

For a while Arya wondered if Jon knew about it. She observed him closely to find an answer and after a while it became clear that although Bran had told him about Rhaegar and Lyanna, Jon was trying to live as if that meant nothing.

Targaryen or not, Jon carried himself as a true born Stark and Arya believed it to be a source of stability for the North in a way Bran wouldn’t be able to provide. However, as the time passed the tensions between Jon and Bran became more evident and potentially dangerous. Arya couldn’t tell if the problem between them was solely because of their dispute, of if there was something else.

Bran wasn’t the only one Jon was antagonizing. Gendry complained more than once about how the King in the North treated the blacksmith with despise. Only when Jon determinate that Bran and Gendry should be sent to the Dreadfort for reasons that made little to no sense to her, Arya realized that she would have to intervene.

Arya was convinced that Jon wouldn’t be swayed by reason, politics or even a sense of duty towards her father’s memory. Arya didn’t like the part she was about to play, but her love for Bran and her loyalty demanded for her to take action.

She entered the Lord’s Chambers with a bitter taste in her mouth. In another time that would be unthinkable. Arya would never have the need to argue with Jon in order to defend Bran’s right to stay in Winterfell, but those days were long gone. If they were to survive the war that would soon reach their gates, they would have to stay together as a pack and for it to happen Arya would have to embrace her role and position as the voice of reason.

The alpha female. A leader in her own right.

There was a deliberate innocence to her moves and voice that night, in a way that made Arya sound like someone else entirely. It was just another role and another face for her to wear and it was far from being the most unpleasant one.

Jon bought the lie as Arya sat on his bed as she used to do when they were children. His eyes, always so hard, cold and distrustful, were tender and warm just for her. His voice as he called her “my dear” was condescending, but still...The way Jon talked to her was a demonstration of her own power inside the northern regime. At that moment Arya was convinced that it would be only a matter of time for her to convince him of letting Bran stay.

A few kisses and hugs, nostalgic conversation and the trust that had always been so strong between them would be enough to make Jon realize the extension of his mistakes. Arya was sure that she had the upper hand in their little power play, but the way he talked so closely to her ear; how he embraced her and kissed her neck; should have been enough of a warning that Jon was not only enjoying the game, but also preparing the board for his final move.

“I have something more suitable in mind.” Jon said without Arya realizing how near her tights his hands were. “I could make you Lady of Winterfell officially.”

Was that it? He was truly offering her a tittle? Was it an attempt of buying her loyalty in the matter, or just Jon trying to dissuade her from that argument?

A part of her was tempted by the idea of holding the title that once belonged to her mother, but Arya let her feelings for him to blind her for the deep true behind that offer.

“How?” When Arya noticed his hand on her tight it was too late. In a blink of an eye, Jon slid his hand between her legs to touch her in an indecorous way as he kept kissing her neck. “What…?”

Arya was suddenly dizzy and confused. She didn’t know what to do or how to react to Jon’s sudden display of dominance and...Lust.

A million thoughts crossed her mind in a blink of an eye. She could scream or try to fight him, but who would come for her? Who would dare to go against the King in the North? Maybe Gendry could be that stupid, but he was outside the castle, in his own room by the forge. Even if Gendry interrupted that moment, Jon would have him beheaded for the audacity.

“I’m in need of a Queen.” He said with his voice low, deep and dark. “I also need to put an end to those who question the legitimacy or my rule, but the main reason for it is that I can’t stand the idea of another man laying hands on you, so I’ll just make official what we have always known to be true.” His fingers sank withing her, making a little sound of surprise escape her mouth. “You are mine and I’m yours. It have always been like this, but I’m afraid my blood now demands more from you than just hugs and kisses on my cheek. I’ll have you, Arya; and I want that boy gone once he is reminded that you belong to me and no one else.”

Arya couldn’t breathe for a moment. Her nails sank in his tights and her whole body got tense. Jon’s left arm kept her pressed against his chest and Arya could feel his erection rubbing against her ass as his fingers moved inside her.

“Just relax, my love.” He whispered to her before kissing her cheek. “I want for both of us to enjoy.”

She closed her eyes and thought about Mercy and all the faced she had worn. Her mind took her back to Braavos and the courtesans pleasure barges in the canals. Arya had seen men touching those exquisite creatures like that. Her naivety had once make Arya dream of how would feel like to be kissed, touched, and worshiped like those women, but she would never have the beauty for it.

The resistance in her slowly faded. Jon took her earlobe into his mouth and played with it. Arya tilted her head back and let it rest against Jon’s shoulder. There was a sense of impotence to that moment, but there was also a part of her that didn’t want Jon to stop. It was like a dream inside a dream. Something she might have fantasized when she was alone and feeling deprived of any kind of love.

His nose traced her neck and every now and then Jon would leave open mouthed kissed and bites on her skin. His arm became more of a support to her languid body than a rope to keep her from moving. Jon’s fingers made sinuous movements inside her and as Arya relaxed they became more fluid and pleasant. Her ass kept rubbing against his cock and every now and then Jon would growl and breathe with difficulty. Eventually Jon decided he had enough of that.

He pushed her to bed, making her lay flat on her stomach. She saw him remove his clothes as she tried to get up from bad. Before Arya could move away, Jon was already back. His body covering hers as body remained trapped between his arms.

Jon tore her nightgown apart so he could have access to her breasts. He grinned with dark satisfaction before claiming her mouth. His hands parted her legs to accommodate his body between them.

Her hands tried to push him away for a moment. Jon allowed her bit of space so she could breathe. His body still kept her in place as she looked at his face.

There was a cold acceptance, entwined with need she couldn’t quite describe inside his eyes. That was wrong, wasn’t it? Even if he was Rhaegar’s son and not her blood brother, they still grew up together.

“This is wrong.” She whispered to him as if she was trying to convince both of them.

Jon seemed to ignore her argument as he entwined his fingers with hers and kissed her neck until Arya felt dizzy and numb by his scent. This blissful sensations were suddenly replaced by the pain as Jon entered her with a swift movement.

Arya bit his shoulder and her eyes were filled with tears as her body tried to adjust to the unexpected intrusion. Jon stood very still for a moment as she tried to recover her breath. When his hips started to move again Jon tried to be gentle.

She couldn’t tell for how long the pain lasted. It could have been a minute or an hour, but after a while Arya could no longer feel it. Her hips moved along with his and there was this wild frenzy taking all over her body. Her skin was on fire and at every thrust Jon sent her closer to the edge of her conscience until sheer pleasure took her body like a mighty force, like a gift from the gods.

The night passed and every time Jon’s hands reached for her Arya felt a bit of her humanity being taken in a way not even the House of Black and White have managed.

He was making a statement of his claim. Just like the title and the throne, Jon wasn’t willing to surrender anything. He was making it plain for anyone to see that she belonged to him as well.

When Arya woke up in the morning on the Lord’s Bed, Jon was nowhere to be seen. She was suddenly confused, shocked and embarrassed. She thought of Bran, of Rickon, Robb and their father for a moment. She thought about Sansa and her mother as well. That made her feel nauseous, but despite of the discomfort between her legs, Arya tried to convince herself that it had all been a dream. It was the blood on the sheets and what remained of her nightgown what put an end to those illusions.

Arya grabbed her robe from the floor and dressed it before leaving the room as fast as her intimate discomfort allowed.

She hid inside her room for hours without having the courage to look at her own reflex in the exquisite copper mirror that Jon had given her a couple of weeks before. Arya wasn’t sure if she could face Bran after that night. She wasn’t even sure if she could face Jon. Just the thought of it was enough to get her shaky and at the verge of tears.

After hours, or maybe minutes, a servant knocked at the door and announced that her presence was required at the courtyard.

At the courtyard Arya noticed the unusual agitation of men and horses. It had snowed all night and the floor was all white and if it wasn’t for the harsh winter and her own desolation, Arya would say that it was a beautiful white day.

Bran had been placed in a wheelhouse with the Stark banner painted on it. Arya went to the window and held his hand.

“No! No. No! You can’t go!” She said exasperated as she tried to open the door of the wheelhouse to get him out of it. “I won’t allow it! Get my brother out of this shit right now!” Arya commanded to the guards was slowly gathered around them.

“I doubt there’s much we can do now.” Bran answered bitterly as he held her hand. “It won’t be forever. As soon as Jon is convinced that I’m no longer a threat or that he needs my abilities more than he fears them, I’ll be back.”

“To the Seven Hells with it! You are the rightful Lord of Winterfell! He can’t do it with you!” Arya said as tears of anger and deception took over her mind.

A rough strong hand touched her arm and she turned her face to look at Gendry standing by her side. He was dressed in his warmest clothes and carried his hammer on his back. He put her back on the floor and looked at her with sad blue eyes.

“He already did.” Gendry declared soberly. “I’m not stupid to believe that this has anything to do with him honoring the promise you made me. I’m thankful for the forge, the wage and the safe home, but I know damn well that it will be either this or my head on a spike for daring to look your way.”

“You can’t go.” Arya declared. “Let me talk to Jon. I’ll convince him to let both of you stay.”

“He can’t afford bend to your will now, sister.” Bran’s voice sounded bitter. “If last night didn’t make him change his mind, now that the sun is shinning and he has laid his claim on you...He can’t afford giving in to your caprices. Not without having his authority questioned. You are still a true born Stark of Winterfell and the key to the North.” He turned his face so he wouldn’t look at her crying. “I’ll try to forget what you did. I know you fought for my interests as much as you could. Marry him before he gets a bastard in you and before death, fire and blood reaches this gates.”

Arya had no words to answer to Bran’s accusations. Before she could say anything she felt an arm around her shoulders and a thick cloak covering her. That was Jon’s way of reinforcing his authority and remember all those who were watching the scene that Arya was his.

“You don’t have to worry about it.” Jon said in a cold and sober tone. “Take the time to think about what it’s best for this land and our people. Both Eddard and Robb would agree that I’m the best choice, given the circumstances.”

“I doubt they would like you for bedding my sister just to prove a point.” Bran snapped back, making Arya cover part of her face in shame.

“You better go now. I won’t have you insulting me and my future wife another time.” Jon hit the wood of the wheelhouse to give sign for the party to start moving.

As they moved out of the courtyard, Arya tried to run to them, but Jon had her locked within his arms before she could give three steps ahead.

[everythingjonsa]

Snowed under by your love - Chapter 4.

Okay so this one came by pretty quickly to me but am not sure if the next one will come out at the same pace. Thank you all for all the love and encouragement you’ve been showering me with. It’s the reason why I keep writing. 

My jonsa soul sister @kitten1618x who is my alpha and beta is truly meticulous and thorough in her editing and I am not happy with my writing until she is. So thank you very much, Love!!

Special mention to @becky217 for the prompt response and feedback. @fedonciadale @accuritefish @littledove @mommyandherblog @icequeen28 @hopepeaceandblackgirlmagic @geekprincess26 @lanamv96 @vervainqueen7 @annarosym @treehillraven23-blog @iqqsgonnabeokay @broadwaysprincess @trinuviel @justbrie @castalya @jami-elite @sestamibi-baby @cute-poison20102014 @hyojung12 @sweatysnow @vale110391 @tamica76 @longlivetheyoungwolf @teddyduchess @riahchan @bethnoel @amnex @twilight-sparx @nina2406 @nat111love @eternallyvain @tayanassayag @ronarch2671 @yol101 @unimportantpoetry @myownblueworld @graceverse @m-s-21 @vitvill98 @sansajons @poprox012-blog @devonmorgan1 @redwolf1283 @strangebirds1202 @ralphy246 @littlebird-whitewolf Thank you all for the replies, comments, likes and reblogs..

Because I am not yet on Ao3 and I’m not sure if you’d like to be tagged, please feel free to to leave a reply or message or ask if you’d like to be tagged. Thank you so much for your patience!!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Sansa let the warm water run down her hair, in the shower.  Today had been the toughest day of her life and, she was physically, mentally and emotionally drained out of every single ounce of energy. Can one really outrun destiny? I guess not, she thought. Karma was a bitch and it did come to bite you in the ass. She’d known when she had made the decision of raising Lyanna alone that if the day ever came that Jon Snow found out about his daughter, both their lives would be irreversibly changed. She had panicked when Jon told her about dragging her to the court about Lyanna. Her mind had painted before her, a thousand scenarios of Lyanna standing in a witness box, Lyanna being interviewed by strangers and so many other scary situations for her little baby that she’d forgotten that Jon COULDN’T BE SURE that Lyanna was his. And she had slipped. She had given him the conformation, he was looking for. She’d told him Lyanna was his daughter, after almost five years of keeping the fact hidden from him. And Jon had reacted exactly like she had expected him to react. In fact, knowing Jon Snow, it could’ve been far worse.

He’d wanted his daughter, from the very minute he’d realised she was his. Why do you want her now, she’d ached to ask him, but knew as soon as the question arose in her mind that, it was rather unfair of her to do so. Hadn’t she herself wanted her baby? From the very moment, she’d known she was pregnant, from the very first flutter she’d felt in her womb?

Sansa had also known there was no point in deterring Jon or arguing with him about Lyanna. Nothing she said or did was going to change his mind about having his daughter in his life. She’d seen the determination in his eyes and she’s known that it was more sensible for her to just resign to the fact that this is how it was going to be from now on. Jon wanted in, and there was no way on earth, she was going to be able to stop him. Not that she wanted to. Unbeknownst to Jon, a great burden had been lifted from Sansa’s heart. She’d never liked keeping Lyanna a secret from Jon and now, she didn’t have to.

But suggesting that they go to Winterfell?? THAT WAS UNEXPECTED. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut when she remembered their argument over his suggestion.

“Pack your bags??” Sansa had been outraged at his audacity. “I hope you do realise that you can’t be ordering me around, Jon Snow. I do have a choice whether or not I want to go.”

Jon had literally snarled at her. “Exactly like I had a choice, five years ago, whether or not I wanted my daughter?” He had inched closer to her and she thought all her cognitive abilities had come to an abrupt halt. Damn the man, for having such an effect on her even after five long years. His breathing was very irregular and she could see the fury flash in his eyes. “You should be thanking me that it’s not much worse for you, Sansa Stark. But if you keep your ego aside for a moment, you’ll see that it’s actually a good thing to happen for Lya.”

Sansa hadn’t, for the life of her, been able to understand how this could work in Lyanna’s favour. She’d dreaded thinking about how Robb was going to react if she EVER told him. A shudder ran down her back and Jon had moved away, pulling a chair to sit down. He’d pulled one for her to sit on too, but she had stubbornly refused, like a petulant child. Jon had simply shrugged and continued talking. “All the stories that I’ve heard from Lyanna, in whatever little time that I spent with her, have been about her Uncles and Aunties and Granny and Grandpa and her cousins which can only mean that your family is very much a part of her life and she obviously loves them a lot. It’s rather evident, therefore, to me at least that if I am going to be an active part of her life and so are they; we’re going to have to meet eventually.” Jon interlinked his palms and placed his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, his face filled with disquiet. “So why wait for it to happen? Besides, I’ve been running away from facing your father for years now. I don’t want to anymore.” Sansa had remembered that fateful day all too well and she could see in Jon’s eyes that he did too. “You can tell Lyanna, that we’re going to Winterfell with her Uncle Robb’s friend. We’ll sail to White Harbour and drive down to Winterfell from there. It will give us a lot of time together. Once we’re in Winterfell we’ll …. ummmm…. talk to your family, and then slowly break it to her. She’ll have the people she trusts, around her. It’s the best place for her to be, really.”

Sansa wondered how the ‘talk to your family’ bit was going to work out. She knew that her mother and father would be civilised about the whole thing, at the very least. Bran was going to be himself, probably wearing the ‘I warned you this would happen’ look on his face. Arya was undoubtedly the right person to talk to if Sansa was even going to entertain this mad idea. Rickon was perhaps going to be the first one to hug Jon but Robb? Once again, Sansa dreaded thinking about how Robb was going to react. Jon didn’t have a clue how fiercely protective Robb was about Lyanna and how much he’d hated Jon for everything that happened. But he’d never admitted any of this, not even to himself. But Jon did have a point. Lyanna felt most at home, at Winterfell. She was the eldest Stark grandchild. Robb and Talisa’s Ben was just two months younger than Lya but they got along with each other like house on fire, just like their fathers had once. It was also where Lya had come to realise that she didn’t have a father like her cousins. She invented stories and told them to Ben about her imaginary father who was fighting monsters in castles so that he could come back to her. Ben, who adored Lya, believed every word she said. It was their ‘not-very-secret’ secret. She loved playing big sister to Anna, Lilly, George and Nymeria. She’d often begged Sansa to move closer to her family and her cousins. If she were to discover that she had a father too, like she’d always wanted and imagined, it was really in her interest that it happened at Winterfell.

Jon had probably seen the resignation in her eyes. He’d risen up from where he was sitting. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning, Sansa, and I’m hoping you’re going to have an answer by then.” The firm look had come back on his face when he slowly prowled towards her. “If you and Lyanna don’t come with me, I’ll go to Winterfell by myself and bring them all down here, even if I have to wage a war to do it, and then tell Lyanna myself that I’m her father.” He brushed past her and opened the door to leave but not before he told her, “And don’t think, even for a second, that I won’t do it.”

Sansa turned off the shower with a start. The worst thing that could ever happen, was Jon going to Winterfell all by himself. It was a risk she couldn’t take. Who knows what might come tumbling out of her family members mouths in her absence.  Jon Snow must never know, why she did, what she did.

Sansa wrapped herself in a towel and got out of the bathroom. She towel dried her long red hair and changed into her PJs. Sansa then slowly tip-toed into Lya’s room and watched the serene expression on her daughter’s face while she slept. In spite of the emotional roller coaster that Sansa had experienced today, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. When Lya was awake, Sansa often wondered when she would go to sleep so she could get some work done and maybe have some time for herself. But when Lya finally did go off to sleep, Sansa got bored of the silence and the absence of the melodious voice that said ‘Mummy’ every single minute. Were mothers always so conflicted? She knelt down beside her daughter’s bed, carefully ran her hand over her forehead and kissed it, resisting the temptation to do it a hundred times more. How was Lya going to deal with Jon’s presence in her life? What kind of a father would Jon be?

She already knew the answer to that, she thought as she quietly went back to her room. Jon would probably take some time, but he would be the best ever father Lyanna could hope for. Just as he had been the best ever friend to Robb and Theon, the best ever brother to Arya, Rickon and Bran, the best ever son to Ned and Catelyn Stark. Jon had always kept his distance from her and she hated it. Sansa knew she was partly to blame for this distance. She had always behaved cold and indifferent around him. Her siblings, especially Arya, had hated her for this coldness she had shown towards Jon. But neither her siblings nor Jon, had ever known the REAL reason behind her indifference. Sansa had had the hugest crush on him, from the very first moment that she had set her eyes on him. Her heart would start pounding, her pulse racing and her palms would become sweaty when Jon was around. She had been scared her siblings would figure out her true feelings. So had she feigned indifference and dislike to cover up the crush that was festering inside her heart like a wound that wouldn’t ever heal. She had tried her best to get him to notice her in a not so obvious manner, wearing the best of clothes, trying to look as pretty as she could. Unfortunately for her, Jon had always seen her as Robb’s kid sister and nothing else.

It had gotten worse when Jon had started dating girls. Sansa had been heartbroken. She vividly remembered the first time Jon had shyly introduced his first girlfriend, Val, to the Starks. Jon was living with them, then. Val was a stunning blonde beauty at 16, and Sansa, who was only twelve, felt gangly and ugly in front of her. She’d thrown a terrible temper tantrum about a spinach pie and had been grounded for a day by her mother, who was appalled by the fact that her otherwise lady-like girl, had behaved like a hussy. Robb and Arya had tried to speak to her but she had shut them away. She’d always struggled with her feelings for Jon, as she was too fearful to talk to her siblings about it, worried that they would judge her for having these feelings for someone who was like a brother to the rest of them. She had never had an outlet to vent her frustration and that had made things worse for her. When Jon and Robb had turned 18, they had both wanted to move out of the Stark mansion, especially Jon but her father had put his foot down. Finally, a truce had been drawn. Robb and Jon would move to the outhouse which was very much in the premises of the mansion. This had made things worse for Sansa, for now when she went to meet Robb, many times she encountered Jon alone and she didn’t know how to behave around him. Like Robb, Jon had been extremely protective of her and Sansa wondered if any boy would ever have the guts to ask her out, with the reputation that preceded her.

Sansa got into her bed and stacked the pillows for her to rest her head. She sighed and thought about how she’d gone on a dating spree when she’d turned 16, to retaliate against Robb’s machinations to protect her and to convince herself that she didn’t really need Jon Snow. But every boy she’d ever dated proved to be disappointing, if not disgusting and she’d pined more and more for the one boy, she couldn’t have. Finally, things had come to a turn when she had started dating Joffrey Baratheon, a boy who was equal parts disappointing and equal parts disgusting. Robb had thrown a fit, when he came to know that Sansa was dating Joffrey, which had encouraged Sansa to mute the voice of her conscience, and continue dating Joffrey, in rebellion. She still remembered that fateful night, so clearly.

Sansa straightened her knee-length black skirt and green blouse. She was very happy with how her outfit had turned out. Today was her special date with Joffrey. He’d promised to surprise her by taking her someplace special. He’d promised her father, that he’d bring her home on time. Sansa came down the stairs and the first person she encountered was her brother Robb, who was glowering at Joffrey like a big grey wolf. Next to him sat Jon Snow, who looked broodier than his usual self. He must’ve sensed her presence for he looked up at that precise moment and their eyes locked. In all the four months that she’d dated Joffrey, Sansa had never felt so charged and light-weighted at the same time as she felt now, with just one look from Jon. He took in her appearance, slowly giving her a once over and when his eyes returned back to hers, they looked darker and stormier, if that was even possible. Sansa stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away from him.

“Sansa, you look ….” Started Joffrey, getting up from the couch to offer her, his arm, but Robb growled and Joffrey recoiled a little bit, then rolled his eyes. “Ummm… This is a pretty dress. Shall we go?”

She could still feel Jon’s eyes on her. Of course, he disapproved of Joffrey. Why would he not? Robb didn’t like Joffrey, so it was obvious that Jon would follow suit. He had never vocally expressed his dislike and so Sansa was taken aback when she heard him say, “WAIT ….” She turned back to see him get up from his place and walk towards them. Jon was twenty now, piling on muscles by the day and looked menacing in his favourite black T-shirt and Black jeans that he usually wore, matching the black of his mood. He gave her a tentative look before glaring into Joffrey’s eyes with absolute purpose.

 “If you try anything funny with her, golden boy” he paused, a muscle working in his jaw, “Anything at all..” He repeated looking at Sansa again, and she felt dizzy with the intensity in his grey eyes. “You will wish, you were never born….” And with another terse look at the two of them, he stormed back into the house leaving Sansa totally and utterly shocked. It was all she could think about, on her way to some party that Joffrey was taking her to.

 Apparently, ‘a party at one of his friend’s house’ was Joffrey’s idea of a special date and Sansa was thoroughly disappointed with him. Her thoughts, however, kept drifting back to Jon. It was so out of character for Jon, to have threatened Joffrey, the way he had. She had been too stunned to even react like she would’ve if it were Robb who had issued the same threat. Robb and Theon were the most aggressive of the three. Well, if truth be told, Theon was just plain stupid, Robb was the aggressive one and Jon was the more level-headed of the three, who usually bailed them out of fights, or stopped them from getting into one.

Sansa continued to be lost in her thoughts about Jon, when she suddenly realised that something was terribly wrong with her. She was feeling awfully dizzy and she’d not even consumed alcohol. Had her drink been spiked with something? Joffrey was now giving her a sly look and all warning bells started going off in Sansa’s brains. In spite of the numbness that was dulling her brains, she thought fast and hard for an escape route. 

If Sansa was anything, she was a survivor. She smiled sweetly at Joffrey and told him she wanted to use the Loo, and he had obviously not suspected a single thing. Sansa summoned every single ounce of her willpower to pretend that she could walk steadily but the minute she reached the bathroom, she bolted herself inside. 

She reached into her purse and took out her phone to dial Robb’s number. It was unreachable. She couldn’t even see the numbers on her phone correctly. Frustrated and extremely petrified at whatever Joffrey had planned for her, she pressed the phone assist and yelled ‘JON’ into it. Sansa went to the bathtub and lay down in it, hoping against hope that Jon picked up the phone. He did, on the first ring. “Sansa??”

“JON!” Sansa yelled into the phone “I think Joffrey has spiked my drink. My vision’s blurred, my head is spinning, I can’t even stand on my feet.”

Jon swore so harshly that Sansa was surprised he knew to swear at all. “Don’t move from there. I’ll be there in exactly five minutes.” He cut the call. Even in her daze, Sansa remembered that she never told Jon where to come and get her. She tried to get up from the tub and staggered to the basin when she heard some commotion below. It sounded like furniture was being dragged around the house and someone was hammering the wood a lot. Sansa splashed water on her face and drank at least a few litres in an attempt to flush whatever was in her system. After what felt like a few centuries later, a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

“Sansa…” Jon’s voice came through from the other side. Relief flooded her entire being and Sansa ran unsteadily to the door, unlocked it and flew into Jon’s arms without waiting for him to offer that comfort. Whatever Jon was about to say, had frozen in his mouth, just as he had, when she hugged him. This was the first time that she’d ever gotten this physically close to him. In the next instant, she felt his strong arms go around her, gathering her more securely against him, almost lifting her off her feet. She felt him press his lips against her temple and she was lost, lost in the sensation that was Jon Snow. She nuzzled against his cheek and inhaled his familiar scent. She felt like, this is where she belonged; this is where she was always meant to be; that she had found her haven. But the moment was lost as quickly as it had come, for Jon pushed her away from him with a slight jerk. “Sansa, are you alright?” he said, his breath coming out in huffs.

Sansa took a while to focus on him. He had thrown a black leather jacket over his previous attire but what really caught her attention was his bloody fist. She immediately reached for it, but he drew his hand away. She looked at him furiously. “What did you do to him?”

Sansa saw that violent look come into his eyes. “The less you know, the better. Come now, let’s get you home.”

But Sansa refused to budge. Suddenly a thought nagged at her brain. “How did you know where to find me?”

Jon rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Thankfully, his other fist looked intact. He looked extremely uncomfortable when he answered her. “Robb, Theon and I followed you here. It was Robb’s idea.” He added, when he saw Sansa’s shocked expression. “And you should be thankful we did. He was planning to put on a show for his friends with you, the bloody motherfucker.” Jon spat the words looking angrier than Sansa had ever seen him look. Sansa felt a sudden wave of nausea overcome her and her anger at Robb for having followed her on her date instantly disappeared. She should thank her stars for having a protective, interfering and loving brother like Robb in her life. What would’ve happened if he had decided to leave her alone, just like she had told him to, a million times?

“Before you ask me” Jon’s heated voice broke through her thoughts and she looked at him. “Yes, Robb and Theon were right here. They’ve taken those assholes to the police. Robb asked me to take you home.” Then suddenly, he turned his anger on her. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sansa? Why are all your boyfriends, miserable twisted fucks?”

Jon’s face was now inches away from Sansa’s and maybe it was the drug still acting up in her system but all her anger at Jon was coming back to her. She rolled her eyes. “Because obviously, I’m not dating the person, I desperately want to date.”

Jon’s expression changed and he creased his brows in confusion. “There’s someone else you want to date?” He took a firm step towards her. “Why don’t you then?” His words sounded harsh. Jon clearly did not trust her choice.

Sansa gulped at the disdain she heard in his voice. HE, was responsible for this. She was bursting from within. “Because, he doesn’t want me.” The truth hurt her, but she said it anyway.

Jon looked at her for ten long seconds and then scoffed, shaking his head. “What kind of an imbecile, wouldn’t want you, Sansa Stark?”

Sansa’s heart was pounding against her rib-cage. By some stroke of luck, an opportunity had been presented to her, to finally say what was in her heart. Did she have the courage to go through with it? Sansa took a step forward. She would’ve fallen had Jon not held both her arms and steadied her.

Blue eyes were locked with dark grey ones “Would you call yourself an imbecile, Jon Snow?”

Jon looked like he’d been punched in the face. He narrowed his eyes, then looked shocked and then looked confused. “Sansa….” He said after what seemed like an eternity. “You can’t possibly mean what you said.”

Sansa felt stung, rejected. What had she expected anyway? She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he didn’t let her escape. It was a futile attempt anyway. He was far stronger than her. Fury and frustration bubbled inside her. If she’d come down this far, she might as well go all the way. So she looked directly into his eyes and said “I like you, Jon Snow. Deal with it.” And she kissed him.

She threaded her fingers through his dark silken curls like she’d always imagined in her dreams, and pressed her lips to his. His lips felt soft and warm and she wanted more. Jon still stood like a rigid cold statue and Sansa suddenly realised the folly of her actions. This was definitely going to be the most embarrassing day of her teenage life. How was she going to face Jon, after today?

Her grip on his hair slowly slackened. She was about to move away from him, when he suddenly held her face in his palms and devoured her mouth in a ferocious kiss that sent tremors through her entire body. It had to be SHOCK, thought Sansa desperately. Jon was kissing her. THIS WAS HAPPENING FOR REAL. Sansa was soaring above the skies as Jon’s kiss made her feel dizzier than the drug she had accidentally consumed. There was an entire orchestra playing inside her body as Jon’s mouth worked expertly over hers. Sansa’s hands travelled from his hair to his neck to his corded shoulders where she held on to him for dear life. She felt hot and cold at the same time. Never had she, in her entire dating history, been kissed so passionately by a boy like Jon was kissing her now. Jon’s fingers were now tangled in her hair and he angled her head slightly to deepen the kiss and she arched into him. His tongue was now doing the exploring and Sansa moaned loudly as she kissed him back with the same intensity.

The next instant Jon had withdrawn himself from her muttering “Shit… Shit …Fuck… Shit…”

Sansa shut her eyes to stop the tears from flowing, because she knew all too well that the moment, however beautiful it was while it lasted, was over.

“I am a bloody lout…” Jon was cursing himself and in general. He looked utterly disgusted with himself. Then he turned to look at her. “I am sorry Sansa….b-but this … us… This can never happen. Ever… You are Ned’s little girl. You’re Robb’s sister.” Jon cringed at the very mention of Robb.

“Jon, there’s nothing wrong with what happened.” Sansa said, hoping against hope that he could stop seeing her as Sansa STARK. “Just because I’m Robb’s sister….”

“Sansa…just stop, please” Jon moved away from her, running his palm through his curly locks. “This was …. an…an aberration… Please don’t talk about this again.”

An aberration? He’d called the best kiss of her life an aberration? “You are a bloody imbecile, Jon Snow!” Sansa had yelled at him “I hate you more than anyone else in this world.”

And hatred she had felt, for herself, thought Sansa, as she drew the covers up to her chin, wiping the lone tear that had fallen out of her eye when she was lost in her memories of her past. For her utter inability to hate him. He’d brought home Ygritte, his new girlfriend the very next day and Sansa’s skin had turned to porcelain, and no one except Bran had noticed. He had been just fourteen, but was extremely intuitive. He had looked at her and Jon several times during that cursed dinner, which was nothing but a blur in her memory. She hadn’t displayed any emotion outwardly, but something inside her had shattered that day. A realisation had dawned upon her; one she would never be rid of.

A realisation that she would remain utterly and irrevocably in love with Jon Snow, to this day, until her last day!

[thelegendofclarke]

um arya wanting to be the leader of a pack is never addressed? she doesnt necessarily want to lead a pack, she just wants a pack. arya’s pack would consist of people she knows and loves, not hundreds of random men. the fact that nymeria is a pack leader is a doesnt mean arya is going to be one. after everything she has been through all arya will want is to be peaceful with people she loves not be in the middle of a war.

Sooo I completely disagree with like, 99% of this… And I am being generous with the 1% because while I do agree that Arya will “want to be with the people she loves,” I don’t think I agree with the context in which you are using it.  

But ok, you are bringing up a few different things here, so for the sake of attempting to be semi-organized i’m going to try to go point by point…

The fact that nymeria is a pack leader is a doesnt mean arya is going to be one.

Well, to be quite honest, I would argue that’s pretty much exactly what it means?

The direwolves are immeasurably important for the Stark children. They are (pretty heavy handed) metaphors for the children and their Starkness in many ways, and the wolves’ arcs are full of allegories and foreshadowing. Its continuously emphasized that the wolves are special. It’s brought up numerous times that they were “meant” for the Stark children, destined for and delivered to them by the Old Gods…

There’s not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years. AGOT, Bran I

“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord…The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. “I am no Stark, Father.” Bran, AGoT

“What was it that Jon had said? When they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa’s, and for what?” Ned, AGOT

“These wolves are more than wolves, Robb. You must know that. I think perhaps the gods sent them to us. Your father’s gods, the old gods of the north.” Catelyn, ASoS

“He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.”Catelyn, ASoSGhost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him.” Jon, ADWD

“Part of you is Summer, and part of Summer is you. You know that, Bran.” Jojen, ACoK

“… just as a part of you would remain in Summer if your boy’s flesh were to die upon the morrow.” Bryden, ADWD

“I am him and he is me. He feels what I feel.” Bran, ADWD

“‘Wolves and women wed for life,’ Haggon often said. ‘You take one, that’s a marriage. The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him…’” Varamyr, ADWD

And having Nymeria be deeply connected to Arya’s fate won’t be the first time that it happens for a Stark child and their dire wolf.

Robb and Grey Wind died together, Robb’s last words were his wolf’s name.

Lady’s name is clearly symbolic of Sansa herself, as “Sansa was a lady at three.” Lady was killed as a sacrificial lamb for the Lannisters, punished for a crime she did not commit. Then Sansa became a soft of scapegoat/sacrificial lamb for them as well in Kings Landing, and shouldered the punishment for her family’s crimes against the throne. Just as she begged for Lady’s life in WF, she begged for her father’s life and for her own in KL.

Ghost has pretty much ~literally~ become his name by housing Jon’s spirit after he was killed by the Night’s Watch.  

I think Bran is going to be instrumental in bringing back the return of summer.

So what’s to say that Arya won’t become a leader, a skilled commander, a dedicated warrior, and a guardian of her people like Nymeria was?! The bond that each Stark has to their dire wolf wolf is completely unique and belongs only to them. Nymeria and Arya are obviously connected in a deep way, Nymeria is part of her. And honestly, I think that Arya’s connection with Nymeria is the strongest of all the Starks, including Jon who is currently posted up in his dire wolf’s body.

Despite only being together for a very brief period of time, Nymeria and Arya were able to form such a strong and and deeply cerebral bond that Arya wargs unconsciously into Nymeria pretty much every night. And when she warns, Arya cannot tell herself from; she essentially becomes Nymeria. She feels what Nymeria feels, senses what Nymeria senses, sees what Nymeria sees, and Nymeria’s pack is her pack.  Even though she doesn’t mean to do it, even though she isn’t even conscious of doing it, even though she doesn’t know it is Nymeria, even though they are different continents, the bond is still there. It defies time and space and distance…

The wolf dreams were the good ones. In the wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. Arya, AFFC

I dreamed I was a wolf again. She could remember the smells best of all: trees and earth, her pack brothers, the scents of horse and deer and man, each different from the others, and the sharp acrid tang of fear, always the same. Some nights the wolf dreams were so vivid that she could hear her brothers howling even as she woke, and once Brea had claimed that she was growling in her sleep as she thrashed beneath the covers. She thought that was some stupid lie till Talea said it too. Arya, AFfC

She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought.They are calling to me. Arya, ACoK

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. Arya, ASoS

She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. […] And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. Arya, ASoS

Her dreams were red and savage. The Mummers were in them, four at least, a pale Lyseni and a dark brutal axeman from Ib, the scarred Dothraki horse lord called Iggo and a Dornishman whose name she never knew. On and on they came, riding through the rain in rusting mail and wet leather, swords and axe clanking against their saddles. They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting them… She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. The Lyseni’s mount reared and screamed in terror, and the others shouted at one another in mantalk, but before they could act the other wolves came hurtling from the darkness and the rain, a great pack of them, gaunt and wet and silent. Arya, ASoS

Nymeria is even part of Arya’s false identity. When creating cat of the canals, arya’s story is that she came to braavos on a ship named Nymeria. And even when trying to be faceless, their bond is so deep that Arya cannot stop warging into Nymeria at night:

In her wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. Arya, AFfC

I should not be dreaming wolf dreams, the girl told herself. I am a cat now, not a wolf. I am Cat of the Canals. The wolf dreams belonged to Arya of House Stark. Try as she might, though, she could not rid herself of Arya. It made no difference whether she slept beneath the temple or in the little room beneath the eaves with Brusco’s daughters, the wolf dreams still haunted her by night. Arya, AFFC

And Arya’s connection to the wolf pack is not just through Nymeria, their alpha. She comes across and/or senses members of the pack at various times during their March through the Riverlands. And when she does, she recognizes them, she communicates with them, and they acknowledge her.

“One of them came padding out from under the trees. He stared at her, and bared his teeth, and all she could think was how stupid she’d been and how Hot Pie would gloat when they found her half-eaten body the next morning. But the wolf turned and raced back into the darkness, and quick as that the eyes were gone.” Arya, ACoK

“She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me.” Arya, ACoK

“Once, from the crest of a ridge, she spied dark shapes crossing a stream in the valley behind them, and for half a heartbeat she feared that Roose Bolton’s riders were on them, but when she looked again she realized they were only a pack of wolves. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled down at them, “Ahooooooooo, ahooooooooo.” When the largest of the wolves lifted its head and howled back, the sound made Arya shiver.” Arya, ASoS

“Somewhere far off she heard a wolf howling. It wasn’t very loud compared to the camp noise and the music and the low ominous growl of the river running wild, but she heard it all the same. Only maybe it wasn’t her ears that heard it.” Arya, ASoS

“They came upon three wolves devouring the corpse of a fawn. When Hot Pie’s horse caught the scent, he shied and bolted. Two of the wolves fled as well, but the third raised his head and bared his teeth, prepared to defend his kill. “Back off,” Arya told Gendry. “Slow, so you don’t spook him.” They edged their mounts away, until the wolf and his feast were no longer in sight.” Arya, ASoS

And while the wolves never display any type of hostility or aggression toward Arya and her friends, they cause all kinds of hell in The Riverlands. Most significantly, they seem to focus their aggression on people and places associated with the enemies of The North/House Stark: Lannister loyalists, Freys, Boltons, Red Wedding Participants and anti Tully forces.

“The wolves have grown terrible of late. There are places where a man alone would do well to find a tree to sleep in. In all my years the biggest pack I ever saw had fewer than a dozen wolves in it, but the great pack that prowls along the Trident now numbers in the hundreds. (…) I have been spared that, Seven save me, but I have heard them in the night, and more than once. So many voices … a sound to curdle a man’s blood. It even set Dog to shivering, and Dog has killed a dozen wolves.” He ruffled the dog’s head. “Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man.” Brienne, AFfC

“After the toast Lady Amerei stopped weeping and the table talk turned to wolves, of the four-footed kind. Ser Danwell Frey claimed there were more of them about than even his grandfather could remember. “They’ve lost all fear of men. Packs of them attacked our baggage train on our way down from the Twins. Our archers had to feather a dozen before the others fled.” Ser Addam Marbrand confessed that their own column had faced similar troubles on their way up from King’s Landing.” Jaime, AFfC

The next day Ser Dermot of the Rainwood returned to the castle, empty-handed. When asked what he’d found, he answered, “Wolves. Hundreds of the bloody beggars.” He’d lost two sentries to them. The wolves had come out of the dark to savage them. “Armed men in mail and boiled leather, and yet the beasts had no fear of them. Before he died, Jate said the pack was led by a she-wolf of monstrous size. A direwolf, to hear him tell it. The wolves got in amongst our horse lines too. The bloody bastards killed my favorite bay.”… “A ring of fires round your camp might keep them off,” said Jaime, though he wondered. Could Ser Dermot’s direwolf be the same beast that had mauled Joffrey near the crossroads?” Jaime, AFfC

“I will hunt today,” Roose Bolton announced as Qyburn helped him into a quilted jerkin.“Is it safe, my lord?” Qyburn asked. “Only three days past, Septon Utt’s men were attacked by wolves. They came right into his camp, not five yards from the fire, and killed two horses.”“It is wolves I mean to hunt. I can scarcely sleep at night for the howling.” Bolton buckled on his belt, adjusting the hang of sword and dagger. “It’s said that direwolves once roamed the north in great packs of a hundred or more, and feared neither man nor mammoth, but that was long ago and in another land. It is queer to see the common wolves of the south so bold.”ACOK, Arya

“It’s been a bad year for wolves,” volunteered a sallow man in a travelstained green cloak. “Around the Gods Eye, the packs have grown bolder’n anyone can remember. Sheep, cows, dogs, makes no matter, they kill as they like, and they got no fear of men. It’s worth your life to go into those woods by night.”“Ah, that’s more tales, and no more true than the other.”“I heard the same thing from my cousin, and she’s not the sort to lie,” an old woman said. “She says there’s this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.” Arya, ACoK

“Men on horses, with flapping black and yellow and pink wings and long shiny claws in hand. Some of her younger brothers bared their teeth to defend the food they’d found, but she snapped at them until they scattered.” Arya, ASoS

arya wanting to be the leader of a pack is never addressed

Well obviously it’s never outright addressed, that would be far too easy. It’s true that Arya is not necessarily ambitious in that she thinks about being an alpha or a pack leader. But GRRM himself has said, “[I]f there’s one truth, I think, it’s that people who really desire power are the people who shouldn’t have it.” (x) He said this in reference to Jon potentially having power, and that he would be a good character to have in power because he didn’t really want it. I think this is true for Arya as well. The fact that Arya has never had any kind of overwhelming desire to be a leader is one of the reasons she would make sure a great one. 

GRRM has also specifically stated that Nymeria’s pack is not a Chekov’s Gun: “But you don’t hang a giant wolf pack on the wall unless you intend to use it.“ (x). So who is going to use it other than Arya? As I discussed above, Arya’s bond to Nymeria and her pack of giant, terrifying, man flesh chomping wolves is unique. No one but Arya has that particular bond.

Furthermore, while its true that Arya has never explicitly or directly expressed any desire to lead a pack, the “strength of the pack” is an extremely prevalent and prominent theme in here arc. Which leads into the next point…

arya’s pack would consist of people she knows and loves, not hundreds of random men.

I agree with the statement that Arya will want to be with the people she loves. However, I think you are failing to take into account Arya’s incredibly huge heart, and capacity to love and care about others, and to feel protective of and loyal to them. Arya fixates on this idea of “pack” and “my pack” and “finding a pack,” almost to the point of obsession, through out the series.

And Arya uses the term “pack” in a pretty liberal and inclusive manner. If you’re a friend or a family member or a loved one, or someone Arya cares about, or has known for a long time, or feels protective of, or even if you’re just a Northerner, you’re part of Arya’s pack.

“She would make much better time on her own, Arya knew, but she could not leave them. They were her pack, her friends, the only living friends that remained to her, and if not for her they would still be safe at Harrenhal, Gendry sweating at his forge and Hot Pie in the kitchens. If the Mummers catch us, I’ll tell them that I’m Ned Stark’s daughter and sister to the King in the North. I’ll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry.” Arya, ASoS

Wolves. Arya went cold. Robb’s men, and my father’s. She felt drawn toward the cages. (…)She looked at their filthy hair and scraggly beards and reddened eyes, at their dry, cracked, bleeding lips. Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry. They all seemed to be looking at her, the living and the dead alike. The old man had squeezed three fingers out between the bars. “Water,” he said, “water.”Arya, ASoS

“There is no place here for Arya of House Stark, she was thinking. Arya’s place was Winterfell, only Winterfell was gone. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. She had no pack, though. They had killed her pack, Ser Ilyn and Ser Meryn and the queen, and when she tried to make a new one all of them ran off, Hot Pie and Gendry and Yoren and Lommy Greenhands, even Harwin, who had been her father’s man. She shoved through the doors, out into the night.” Arya, AFFC

And Arya’s pack means everything to her, she will do anything to protect them. Arya’s most impulsive and/or courageous moments and kind, heroic acts are born out of protectiveness and loyalty to her pack. We see it for the first time when she defends Mycah while armed with nothing but a stick against Joffrey who is armed with a sword:

“He’s my friend,” Arya said sharply. “You leave him alone.”“A butcher’s boy who wants to be a knight, is it?” Joffrey swung down from his mount, sword in hand. “Pick up your sword, butcher’s boy,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “Let us see how good you are.”Mycah stood there, frozen with fear.Joffrey walked toward him. “Go on, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?”“She ast me to, m'lord,” Mycah said. “She ast me to.”Sansa had only to glance at Arya and see the flush on her sister’s face to know the boy was telling the truth, but Joffrey was in no mood to listen. The wine had made him wild. “Are you going to pick up your sword?”Mycah shook his head. “It’s only a stick, m'lord. It’s not no sword, it’s only a stick.”“And you’re only a butcher’s boy, and no knight.” Joffrey lifted Lion’s Tooth and laid its point on Mycah’s cheek below the eye, as the butcher’s boy stood trembling. “That was my lady’s sister you were hitting, do you know that?” A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah’s flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy’s cheek.“Stop it!” Arya screamed. She grabbed up her fallen stick.Sansa was afraid. “Arya, you stay out of this.”“I won’t hurt him … much,” Prince Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher’s boy.Arya went for him.Sansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince’s head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa’s horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion’s Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire. Sansa was shrieking, “No, no, stop it, stop it, both of you, you’re spoiling it,” but no one was listening. Arya scooped up a rock and hurled it at Joffrey’s head. She hit his horse instead, and the blood bay reared and went galloping off after Mycah. “Stop it, don’t, stop it!” Sansa screamed. Joffrey slashed at Arya with his sword, screaming obscenities, terrible words, filthy words. Arya darted back, frightened now, but Joffrey followed, hounding her toward the woods, backing her up against a tree. …“Arya whirled and heaved the sword into the air, putting her whole body into the throw. The blue steel flashed in the sun as the sword spun out over the river. It hit the water and vanished with a splash. Joffrey moaned. Arya ran off to her horse, Nymeria loping at her heels.” Sansa, AGoT

Another example was when Gendry was captured by Clegane and his men, she was willing to risk everything, including her own freedom and life to save him:

“The only thing that mattered was that they had Gendry. Even if he was stubborn and stupid, she had to get him out. She wondered if they knew the queen wanted him.…She thought that the dark might let her crawl close and free Gendry, but the guards kindled torches off the cookfire. A squire brought meat and bread to the two guarding the storehouse, and later two more men joined them and they all passed a skin of wine from hand to hand. When it was empty the others left, but the two guards remained, leaning on their spears.…Where’s the Bull?” asked Lommy.“They caught him,” Arya whispered. “We have to get him out. Hot Pie, you got to help. We’ll sneak up and kill the guards, and then I’ll open the door.”Hot Pie and Lommy exchanged a look. “How many?”“I couldn’t count,” Arya admitted. “Twenty at least, but only two on the door.”Hot Pie looked as if he were going to cry. “We can’t fight twenty.”“You only need to fight one. I’ll do the other and we’ll get Gendry out and run.”“We should yield,” Lommy said. “Just go in and yield.”Arya shook her head stubbornly.“Then just leave him, Arry,” Lommy pleaded. “They don’t know about the rest of us. If we hide, they’ll go away, you know they will. It’s not our fault Gendry’s captured.”“You’re stupid, Lommy,” Arya said angrily. “You’ll die if we don’t get Gendry out. Who’s going to carry you?”“You and Hot Pie.”“All the time, with no one else to help? We’ll never do it. Gendry was the strong one. Anyhow, I don’t care what you say, I’m going back for him.” She looked at Hot Pie. “Are you coming?”Hot Pie glanced at Lommy, at Arya, at Lommy again. “I’ll come,” he said reluctantly.” Arya, ACOK

Even when you look at Arya’s infamous “list,” it isn’t just people who have done her harm. It is almost exclusively focused on people who have hurt or wronged her pack mates. Arya doesn’t hate for herself, she hates on behalf of her pack, she is angry on behalf of her pack, she seeks justice on behalf of her pack. Just some examples:

Sandor Clegane, for killing Mycah.

Ilyn Payne, Cersei and Joffrey for killing her father

Cersei and Joffrey for killing Lady, Sansa’s direwolf.

Ser Amory Lorche, for killing Yoren.

Dunsen, for taking Gendry’s prized bull helmet.

Raff/The Sweetling, for killing Lommy

This strong, pack based mentality comes from something here father told her, that she has never forgotten and still carries with her:

Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm.” Ned Stark, AGoT

Nymeria has something that Arya desires with all her heart and soul. She has a loyal pack of brothers and sisters; a family who who are “fierce and terrible and hers.” Arya’s “pack” is her people. She is loyal to them, she loves them, and she protects them. And there is no limit on Arya’s ability to love.

after everything she has been through all arya will want is to be peaceful with people she loves not be in the middle of a war.

I addressed the “being with the people she loves” statement above. As for the “all arya will want is to be peaceful with people she loves not be in the middle of a war” part, I am not entirely sure what you mean by it, but I am going to go with how I am interpreting it…

GRRM did not have Arya decide against getting rid of Needle for nothing. He didn’t have her be taught by Syrio for nothing. He didn’t have her join the faceless men for nothing. Just like Nymeria’s wolf pack isn’t a Chekov’s gun, I don’t think any of these things are either.

Arya is not spending all this time honing her strategy and fighting skills to never use them. Just like Bran isn’t honing his warning and greenseer skills to never use them; and Sansa isn’t honing her political and diplomatic skills to never use them; and Jon isn’t honing his Lord Commander skills to never use them. They are all learning these things for a reason. And I don’t think the reason is for them to go sit on their arses in Winterfell, as much as I would love for that to be the case. I love Arya, she is probably one of my favorite characters not just in this series, but ever written tbh. Of course I don’t want for her to have to go through any more of the pain, or fear, or violence, or heartache that is war; I hate how much trauma she has been put through already. But in ASoIaF, war is a reality; the whole story is about the war for the continued existence of mankind. Arya is not a passive character; on the contrary, she is a pretty damn active one. She cannot and will not sit idly by why there are threats to her home or the people she cares for and the pack she loves.

I’m not saying that Arya is going to spend the rest of her days at war, I don’t think that at all. I’m also not really even saying Arya has be be a soldier or a fighter? It doesn’t have to be that literal, rarely anything in ASoIaF ever is. Nymeria of Rhoynar wasn’t a soldier, but she was still a leader. She still commanded armies and led her people and was a conqueror. I think it’s a common misconception about her, but Nymeria was a war leader but not a warrior, a commander rather than a combatant. But that has done nothing to diminish her importance or her legend, her reputation still proceeds her.

Arya specifically chose Nymeria of Rhoynar for her wolf’s namesake. Nymeria is the only direwolf who is named after a historical figure, or even a human being… I do think Arya, Nymeria, and her wolf pack are going to be instrumental not only in taking back Winterfell and her people’s home, but also possibly in the Battle for the Dawn. Nymeria of Rhoynar wasn’t able to save her home from destruction, but I hope that Arya Stark will. I hope she can be a Northern leader and legend, a strategist and counselor, a conqueror and hero, who can help bring her people the salvation they need.  

And you don’t have to agree with all of this, or any of it for that matter. But it feels like there is so much there… Too much there to really ignore.