Chapter Text
The Stark house in North Westerville is really big. Henry’s never been there before. Usually Arya comes over to his after school because her parents both work, and her elder brothers are usually out at some sport activity - he’s always hearing about them competing in this or that. He’s been invited over today though, the high school has a teacher-training thing last period, so her brothers Robb and Jon came to get them.
He’s never met her older brothers. Bran and Rick are at school with them, but they’re younger so Henry’s never really had to interact with them in classes. They seem alright. Sansa’s very pretty, and he gave her a flower last Valentine’s day. (He wanted to give it to Arya, but she punched him for it). Sansa had thanked him, but he saw her leave the flower behind when Joffery appeared at school that day. Still, she’s nice.
Robb brought his Irish Wolfhound with him. Jon’s - Ghost - had just returned from a check-up at the vet, and was sleeping apparently. Arya grins, wrapping around the dog’s neck - Grey Wind, that’s the name of this one - but Henry steps back. He’s pretty sure it could flatten him by stepping on him. Robb laughs when he voices this, saying Grey Wind knows who to bite.
“You’re not going to suddenly attack Arya, are you?” The question comes with a laugh, but Henry’s suddenly wondering if being friends with Arya is a good idea.
“Enough Robb,” Mr. Stark’s voice is firm but fair, and Henry’s never been so glad to hear it, “let’s not scare the lad.” Once, Henry had overheard Miss Blanchard saying to Emma that really, Mr. Stark should be the Mayor of Westerville, before adding that Mr. Baratheon - Joffery the Jerk’s father - was a drunken lech.
His Mom wouldn’t tell him what she meant by that, but considering she didn’t get angry, he supposed she agreed. She didn’t much like Mr. Stark though, but Henry did. “Thanks for having me round, sir.” he smiled.
Mr. Stark gave a smile that was kind of like Arya’s, but older and more tired. “Arya, why don’t you show your friend the new pups?” he suggests. Arya’s grin grows.
“Come on, Henry,” she pulls at his arm, “maybe your Mom will let you have one this time!”
He doubts it, but hurries to see them all the same.