POV: Arya Stark
Arya jumped up and down after she had read the letter from Jon. His journey hadn't been too exciting but it was still better than lessons from the septa, which she might or might not have skipped to train with the wooden sword she had stolen from the armoury.
She swung the wooden sword with all the unfocused energy she could muster up. Then again, maybe the sword wasn't her weapon? Jon had always been her favorite brother and he hadn't chosen a sword, so why should she?
But what weapon better suited her? She was too weak to effectively swing a sword, her limbs too short to wield a spear like Jon, though maybe in the future, she could. She was good with the bow and arrow but she lacked the strength to draw a war bow. Her lack of strength also ruled out a mace or Warhammer. That left an ax, a dagger or some of the more… exotic weapons, like a whip. The dagger was the most traditional choice for a woman. Daggers were easy to hide under those ridiculous dresses that ladies had to wear and it suited her swiftness. The ax was a more unusual choice. Even a child could wield an ax. She was torn between the two options.
"Why choose?" She realized. She could use an ax out in the open and hide her dagger on her for a surprise attack!
Now how was she going to get hold of an ax her size?
POV: Catelyn Stark
Catelyn was very much enjoying her time with the bastard gone. Without his interference, Arya hadn't been able to skip her lessons as often. That girl… she would be the death of her someday. She was sure she had been corrupted by the sin spawn. With him gone, maybe she could finally make her into the proper lady she was meant to be.
She was sitting in a room with Sansa, silently embroidering. Catelyn did this to relax. Ever since she was a girl, she found working with her needle to help her concentrate. She was embroidering a fish. It had started as a direwolf but old habits died hard. She was so used to embroidering fish that when she didn't think about it, reverted to that out of instinct.
Looking up from her work, she looked at Sansa's work. Hers actually turned into a direwolf. Her stitches were fine if a bit unpracticed, the snout was a bit too long and a tiny amount crooked.
"You are doing great dear", old Nan said, "your stitches are very neat"
Her attention switched from her daughter to old nan. Old nan was a lowborn woman who had been in Winterfell for generations. She had been an old woman when Catelyn was a child herself and no matter how much time passed, she never seemed to fall ill or deteriorate like the other elderly people she knew. Her eyes were still focused, her mind still sharp. How old she actually was, no one knew, no, that wasn't quite right. The maester kept good track of all the important people in Winterfell. He might know how old she was but Catelyn? She could only guess. Surely, by now she was over a hundred name days old, she may very well be the oldest person alive in Westeros. Every year, they believed it would be her last, for how old she was and yet, every year, she kept on surviving.
Catelyn turned to Arya and… wait, "where is Arya?"
"Oh my, that girl… snuck out again?" Old Nan sighed wearily, "I'll have the guards search for her and-"
The door swung open and one of the guards was dragging Arya behind himself. Her dress was torn and dirty and she was struggling against his grip, "milady, we caught young lady Arya attempting to… liberate a small hand ax from the armoury"
"Thank you for bringing her here, you may leave now", Catelyn dismissed the guard. He nodded and walked off.
"I don't know what to do with you", she shook her head, "that bastard has implanted some vile thoughts into your brain. You are a lady, not some smith's son. You shouldn't play with weapons, the seven know you can use all the training in stitching which you can get"
"I still don't see why I should have to do any of that, fighting is what I was born to do"
"No, what you are born to do is be a dutiful wife and young lady and bear your future husband kids", Catelyn explained. Why couldn't she see? Motherhood was a miracle beyond any other.
She pouted.
How was Catelyn going to get through to her thick skull?