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A House Too Big

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Sansa’s gown brushed against the stone floor as she sat. Arya stood behind her, quietly leaning against the door as Sansa looked at herself in the looking-glass. She looked like their Lady Mother, Arya decided. Her dress was white and made of silk, and on her cloak, the grey of the Stark direwolf shone with stone embellishments.

“You look pretty,” Arya said. She moved to stand behind her sister, and laid a hand on her shoulder. After the war, they had gotten closer, and became the sisters their parents had always hoped they would one day be.

“So do you,” Sansa said. Her voice sounded a little shaky because of two glasses of Arbor gold she had gulped down just minutes ago. She was used to having a quick reaction to wine, and thankfully Arya had snatched away the goblet in time.

Arya shrugged, looking down once at her dress then biting her lip.

“I am nervous,” Sansa said, fidgeting with the loose strands of her hair. Arya patted her shoulder. She did not exactly know what to say. She was not good at consoling people, especially not in the matters of the heart. Marriage was something she tried her best to stay away from, and she had known love only in a few forms in her entire life, and all of them from the same person.

She looked over Sansa’s shoulder at the glass, at the thought of him, feeling her heart speed for nothing. She bit her lip again, as if to stop her thoughts from straying into some place she did not want them to.

The door opened with a creak. Arya turned, her will scattered at a moment's notice as Jon entered the room. They shared glances, and she turned away instantly, cheeks burning.


His greeting was warm but short. He kissed her on the cheek as Arya took a few steps away from them, fully aware that even if he was beside Sansa, his eyes were on her.

"Jon," Sansa said with a smile. "Where were you?"

"Around," he replied. Arya noticed him holding something in his right hand and looked closely as he gave it to Sansa.

"It is small, but I hope you like it."

Sansa took it with warmth in her eyes. Arya felt a tug at her heart. What she would give to have him behave the same way with her. To have things turned back to the way they were before they returned as monsters to live in Winterfell. She would gladly trade places with Sansa if it would mean that Jon would act like Jon with her.

Sansa took the gift with her hands. A small chain with a stone hung on it. Not too pretty but delicate enough to suit her sister. Sansa smiled with gratitude and placed it on her lap, a promise to keep it close.

"Thank you, Jon," she said. "Where did you find it?"

"Val helped me," he said. Arya's eyes turned to daggers at the name, the pinprick stabs she felt in her heart turning to a pain more raw. "She thought it would suit you."

"Tell her she has my thanks."

"She has good taste, it seems," Arya said suddenly, her mouth moving off her own accord. Jon's eyes flashed, as a warning. Arya held his stare, tilting her head to the side. "She is almost part of the family now, isn't she? We just need a heart tree and a few vows."

She did not care about what Sansa would think, even if she knew that Sansa knew more than she let on. Her sister cleared her throat, her eyes switching between the two cousins. "If Jon was so taken with someone, I would have married him off long ago." Sansa laughed and shook her head. "But Jon, give my gratitude to Val."

He nodded, eyes still on Arya as she gave him a long, hard stare before turning to Sansa. The wedding was to take place soon. The four of them were to escort Sansa to the Godswood, and Bran and Rickon were yet to arrive. Arya waited with her eyes stuck firmly to her sister and only her, and not to the man who was only inches away from her now.


Arya paced back and forth in her room, eyes burning from the intensity of her anger. She held Needle so tightly that her palm was aching. She paced long enough that her legs grew tired and then the door opened abruptly, as if pushed open in fury.

"You stupid, stupid man!" She lunged at him as soon as he entered. Jon's eyes were red, but not from crying. His hair was messy and his face tired. Arya cared less. She pushed against him with all her strength.

"Why would you say that to Aegon?" She shouted. "If it was not for him I would never have returned. He is a good man and you acted like shit, Jon."

"So what if I did?" He asked, unrelenting.

"He is the King!" Arya was shouting now, voice higher than she had intended.

"And he wants you in his bed, Arya! Every time he looks at you, he wants to tear off your clothes and fuck you. The Gods help me but if he lays a hand on you I will rip his skin off his bones."

Arya's eyes widened.

"You forget yourself, cousin. I am my own person and I will do whatever I please and if I have no problem with Aegon wanting to fuck me then you should not either."

Jon growled. He fisted his hand and thrashed it against the wall, blood spilling in tiny drops from his fist. Arya bit her lip, her instinct urging her to run to him and kiss his wounds away. But when she saw the repulsive look in his eyes she stepped back, donning her anger again and ready to strike back at his next words.

"I am King too," Jon said. He stepped towards her, eyes turned to slits. "That bastard is not of the North. Maybe I should never have let him in."

Arya looked at him with disbelief.

"I trusted you with the truth," she said. "You were once adamant to take the insult away from the title, cousin, but now you use it in disgust. He wasn't meant to know of his true birth and yet you used the knowledge I gave you to hurt him. What does that make you? When did you turn so cruel?"

Jon clenched his teeth, as if in pain, and Arya looked away from him, unable to look at his face. She placed her forehead against the cold wall, hoping all of it was a dream and that Jon would ask for forgiveness the moment she turned around. But it was hopeless.

She felt a hand on her back, warm, and she meant to push it away, when the pressure increased and Arya found her chest pressed to the wall. She resisted but in vain as Jon held her as if with no great difficulty, and Arya felt his breath on the base of her throat.

"Sister," he whispered. She felt a shiver on the lower side of her body. "Little sister." Jon bit her neck softly, the canines digging into her skin. Arya whimpered in response, the panic settling in along with the ache in her lower body, making her clench her thighs together.

"He will have you over my corpse." Arya felt herself unable to move. She felt his weight on her back. His hands wound down to wrap themselves around her waist and she felt him rest his head on her shoulder.

"And even if I die, little sister, I will be sure to come back again to you like I did the first time. That is an oath."


Sansa's cloak was replaced with her husband's. Arya couldn't help but smile as Sansa looked at her husband with so much love in her eyes. The ceremony went away quicker than she would have hoped and Arya displaced her own cloak after getting inside the castle, skin warming.

"My Lady."

She turned. Val was smiling. Hair always in a loose braid and cheeks always flushed, she looked prettier than most in the castle. Her tunics and old saggy breeches made her beauty no less evident, and for the first time in her life, Arya felt herself fill with envy at another's beauty.

"Val," she said, voice smooth. She pulled her hair to one side of her neck, messy and brown and full of snow.

"You look beautiful, Princess," she said.

Arya thanked her with a forced smile. She invited her to the feast but Val shook her head.

"I have other things to attend to," she replied. Arya instantly thought of Jon, waiting for Val in some abandoned corner of the castle. Her eyes roamed around, but at no sign of him, she had to try hard to keep her imagination at bay. "I should have believed the King when he said that you looked heavenly."

Arya flushed without knowing.

"You cannot convince me that I am what the King talks about when you both are together," she said, a lump forming in her throat.

Val gave her a smile that looked sadder than anything else. "I wish the opposite were true," she said and bowed. "Good night, Princess."

Arya bowed and uttered a good night. The woman walked away, her braid swaying behind her. Arya went to the Great Hall, sitting on the dais as the feast had already begun. She dug into her meat instantly, hungry from not having had supper. Nymeria nipped at her waist and she handed her a bone as the direwolf sat on her haunches and bit into it.

The bedding was announced and Willas stood up and led Sansa into their chambers. They had refused to be stripped by strangers and so Sansa kissed Arya one more time on the cheek and took her husband's arm, walking away with him. Arya smiled at their backs, content that her sister had finally found some semblance of happiness in all of the chaos. She kept her eyes on them, then turned in surprise when a hand brushed against her waist. Her eyes met Jon's, watery and heavy, as he moved his forefinger up her waist to trail it along her body up to her breast. Arya gasped as he touched the revealed skin over her breasts, his nails grazing over it lightly. She closed her eyes, but as soon as it had come the touch was gone, and so was he.


Arya watched as the torchlight moved against the face of her father's statue, and closed her eyes, willing herself to remember the time when she could see him for real. She felt herself fill with shame at the realization that she had began to forget the memories of them. Winterfell would have been different with him. Perhaps the place she had returned to would have remained her home, and the people her own.

"My King, I did not see you."

Jon's footsteps came closer.

"Liar," he accused. "Why are you hiding here?"

"Have you been looking for me?"

"Everywhere," he answered. Jon's stare was leaving goosebumps on her flesh. Things had went rough between them, and there had been moments when Arya had spoken to Jon only to find that he was now more a King than he was ever her brother.

Cousin, she corrected herself. As he loved to remind her every single day. They barely spoke, and Arya tried to keep it that way. She still had the picture of a Jon who loved her etched into her memory, a Jon that was once the only person who ever felt like home. And she did not want this King to replace her favourite brother.

"You do not have to waste your precious time on me, Your Grace."

"Arya," he warned. A hand brushed her cheek, and Arya closed her eyes. She hated it. Ever since that night in her room when she had first fought with him, it seemed that he had taken a liking to touching her. He would leave her trembling every time, and her own reaction was what scared Arya the most. That her eyes never seemed to remain open whenever he touched her and her mouth betrayed her. Every time his skin touched hers, it felt like she had sinned a thousand times, because it was far from being similar to the touches they had shared as children, and completely different in meaning. She ached everywhere for him: another reason why she kept out of his way as much as possible.

Standing in front of the statue of her father, Arya tried her best to stifle her voice, but she could not stop the small sob-like sound that went past her lips the moment his fingers touched her lips.

"Tell me why Gendry Baratheon has been sending letters to Sansa meaning to ask for your hand in marriage?"

Arya sucked in a breath. Gendry's name brought a bittersweet taste on her tongue. She avoided his question.

"Is that why you are here? To ask me if I will marry Gendry?"

"I want to know why he wants to marry you."

"I don't know."

"Does he love you, Arya? Tell me."

"I don't know!" She cried out. She jumped away from his touch. "Why would you care? You know better than anyone that I will never marry anyone. Do I ever ask you of what you do with Val?"

Jon went silent. She waited for a reply she knew would come, but Arya had not anticipated her words to fall out of her mouth so carelessly. Val's name had always been poison.

"But you care," he said suddenly. "Look at me." Arya lifted up her eyes only to find him looking down at her with eyes as dark as night. "I do nothing with Val."

"I am not stupid." Arya scoffed.

Jon raised a hand and placed his hand behind her hair, pulling her to him. Arya panicked, but it was quickly replaced by the churl low in her belly at the feel of her chest hitting his. He kissed her, all tongue and teeth, and for some reason it did not shock or surprise her. She had known it would come to this since the day he had first touched her. What did shock her was her body's instant liking to his actions, as she could do nothing else but to open her mouth to let him in, as much as he wanted to.

They groaned together. Arya's hands were aching to touch him but the thought of her father's statue just mere inches away, judging them, made her push him away.

"Jon," she said, voice weak and low, when he left her for air. The pressure under her belly increased, and Jon held her face in his hands and attacked her mouth with all of his strength. Arya felt her knees shake. His hands reached down her breeches and Arya's eyes widened the moment he ran a finger over her slit.

"Stop," she said. His finger brushed against her wetness and Arya bit back a moan. "Stop it!"

Jon stopped, as if slapped. He withdrew his hand, still glistening from her juices and Arya tried to correct her disheveled appearance.

"Little sister," he whispered, and the words did the work. Arya glared at him.

"I am not your sister," she said, eyes burning like wildfire. "And I'm not for you to fuck. Leave, Your Grace. Honor my father's memory."

Jon clenched his jaw. He gave her a short bow and Arya looked on speechlessly and in utter shock as he lifted his finger to his lips to run it across his tongue.



Arya bit her lip. She had been trying her best to avoid him, but now that most of the men and women had left and the hall was almost empty, not coming into view of Gendry Baratheon became a great difficulty. She nodded her head towards him, and he came closer. Jon was looking, Arya knew that.

"Did I do something to displease you?"

Arya rolled her eyes, the habit too hard on her actions.

"You told everyone you want to fucking marry me, you bull-headed ass."

Gendry laughed. He scratched the back of his neck.

"You knew that already. I asked you more than twenty times."

"And I said I won't!"

"That is why I asked your sister!"

"What was the point of it, stupid?"

"I love you!" Gendry's voice rang too loud, but fortunately for her everyone was either too drunk to notice or had already left. She did notice a pair of grey eyes stare daggers into her, but she ignored him, or at least tried to.

"Good for you, then," Arya said and snorted. Gendry took a seat beside her and snatched the wine goblet from her hand to gulp it down at once. Arya glared and Gendry leaned close to her, his breath reeking of wine.

"I love you," he said again, this time seriously. Arya shook her head, trying her best not to look him in his eyes. Her pulse quickened.

"I know, Gendry," she replied, as if it was meant to end the conversation. She knew all too well what he felt, but she also knew what she could never feel.

A hand landed on top of the table, loudly, and Arya looked up, grey eyes locking on grey.

"May my cousin be excused, Lord Baratheon?" Jon asked, eyes filled with distaste and anger.

Gendry looked up in suprise and nodded. Jon grasped Arya's arm.

"Come with me," he commanded.

Arya's eyes flashed.

"I can go on my own," she said.

Jon leaned down in a heartbeat, his mouth near her ear.

"Little sister, come with me now. Or else I will drive a sword through your lover's chest right here in front of you. I swear it."

Arya glared at him in anger. Jon said nothing, but his grip on her did not loosen. Arya ultimately let him take her away to her room, telling Gendry that she would see him soon. As soon as the doors were closed, she broke away from his hold. Jon lashed out at her, holding her hands above her head with a hand, then using the other hand to wrap her hair around itself, tugging at it.

"Why can't you stay away from him?"

"He came to me, Jon. What the fuck do you want me to do?"

He looked at her in anger. Arya stared back. She had never loved Gendry, and she never would but she knew that Jon would never believe her. She pushed against him again, but this time she found no resistance.

Jon let go off her arms suddenly. Arya waited in surprise, and saw him instantly fall on his knees, eyes locked on hers. His hands wrapped around her skirt near her knees and he pulled her to him. Arya gasped and involuntarily held his hair between her fingers, clutching on.

Jon pressed his face against her stomach, burying it in her skirt. Arya felt her heart wanting to burst out of her chest, unexpected excitement surging through her at the sight of him kneeling down before her.

"Don't torment me like this," he whispered. "You do not know what you do to me."

Arya held onto his hair. She wanted a while before replying, studying him.

"And do you know what you do to me, Jon? You're cruel."

His eyes darkened.

"I will let no one else fuck you, Arya. You belong to me. You always have. Since the day you were born."

"I belong to no one."

He gripped her tightly and nuzzled his face against her.

"You are mine, little sister." His hands trailed down the length of her skirt until he had one hand underneath it, running up her thigh. Arya pressed her legs together, and Jon's eyes darkened again, almost black. "You have stopped me once, Arya. This time I will get what I want." Arya gulped down empty air. "You cannot even imagine the things I want to do to you. The ways I want to have you-" He stopped his words, took away his hands and stood up halfway to bring them to the top of her dress and tear it with both of his hands in one motion, as Arya gasped aloud and gripped him tightly. “I love you," he whispered, voice low and deep as his eyes strayed down to her uncovered breasts.

Her chest was aching and trying to burst with all the feelings she had locked away in some deep part of her heart, ready to sprout open. To have Jon like this, with her, to have him tell her he loved her, brought back the affection she had hidden away from him. The love that she had never been able to let to go of. The love that had slowly turned to something more carnal and impure and more intense. The love that had given rise to her feigned indifference and her irrational hatred and jealousy of Val, but had latched itself onto her heart too tightly. She had known that he wanted her, but to hear him profess his love to her brought out feelings she had tried to hide for too long.

The ache between her legs increased at his confession, and Arya found herself being relentlessly assaulted by his mouth on every part of her that he could reach. He stripped out of his clothes but before Arya could see him properly, he turned her around so that she was facing her bed and not him. Arya’s mouth went dry in anticipation, and under no circumstances was she going to stop him, not when the longing in her belly was finally going to be fulfilled. Her eyes closed of just the thought of being mounted by Jon, of his hands touching her in all the right places and that alone made her moan softly. Jon gripped her hair tightly at the sound, tugging almost painfully.

“You make me mad,” he whispered, his teeth grazing against her neck. Arya reached her hands out to hold onto something to keep still, but found nothing. Suddenly, Jon pushed her by her back and she fell on her bed with a thud, face down.

“Let me look at you,” Arya whispered desperately. She wanted to see him, but he would not let her and currently she had no power to oppose him. Jon bit her as a reply, the pain sharply reaching down between her legs. Arya felt him lean over her, his stomach touching her back, and his length rubbing against her skin. He was hard and ready, and from what Arya could imagine, she herself was more aroused than she had ever been in her entire life.

“Jon,” she whimpered again when she got no answer. He kept kissing her neck and biting it until the skin there felt raw and painful.

“Have you ever loved Gendry?” he asked suddenly, pressing his hardness against her hip.

Arya shook her head, face now flat against her furs. Her hands were gripping them as she pressed her arse back against his cock, too impatient.

“My wolf,” he said in a tone of relief, and moved his hand finally where she desperately wanted it to be. She knew he would find her dripping, and he did, his cock pressed harder against her as he hissed. “I kept away from you thinking I repulsed you, but you-“ He pushed his finger into her cunt deep onto his knuckle. “You are so wet, little sister.” Arya moaned loudly, and managed to cut it off halfway by biting onto her furs. Jon growled, as if angry. With his hand he cupped her chin and pulled it up so her face would lift off the bed.

“Don’t,” he said harshly. “Your screams are mine as much as you are.”

Jon’s fingers moved inside her again and again, until Arya’s eyes started filling with tears, desperately aching for the release. Jon raised himself up and kissed her by tilting her head up. His tongue ran against her own as his fingers rubbed over her clit. Arya moaned into his mouth, feeling the levee about to break.

“Please,” she cried out as soon as his lips left hers. “Please, my love.”

Arya’s pleasure peaked as soon as Jon moved out his fingers from her cunt and replaced it with his cock. She howled out in pleasure, her toes curling at the release. Jon groaned out from behind her, and before she could feel her body calm down he thrust into her hard gripping her hips with his hands.

"Say it again," he demanded in ragged breaths, between his fucking. He brought his face down and licked a trail up her spine, finally resting his mouth over the place he had been unforgiving to, and licked the pink and purple bruises forming there.

"My love," Arya moaned, the pleasure almost too much. Her earlier high subsided to slowly make away for another release. "You're the only person I have ever loved." Tears formed in her eyes. "I have missed you so much."

Jon wrapped his arms around her midsection, and his thrusts increased their pace. He placed kisses all over her back, whispering her name like a prayer.

"You're mine," he said, voice breaking. "You always will be. Come now, little sister. I want to hear you again."

"Always," Arya screamed, and came for the second time, her body running out of strength. Jon kept thrusting harder and harder, until he slowed down and with one final thrust, spilled his seed inside her, warmth flooding her cunt. Arya was out of breath, and hummed in content as Jon fell on top of her in exhaustion, his warm body covering hers.

They stayed like that for a while, until Jon pressed a lazy kiss against the side of her mouth, and his eyes met hers, letting her see him properly for the first time. Arya ran her fingers through his hair. He picked her up and laid her down on the bed, her muscles falling in a heap of relief. Jon followed, turning to face her, and Arya moved her face so close to his that she was able to feel his warm breath.

Jon grasped her arm in one swift motion.

"They can want you," he said in a voice of determination. "But they can never have you. Promise me."

"Yes," Arya whispered, almost as a gasp and absentmindedly bit her lip. Some dark part of her rejoiced in Jon claiming her as his own. Maybe that was what she had always wanted. To belong to him, and to be able to have him.

Jon's eyes darkened, eyes struck on her lips. He dipped his head to kiss her hungrily, making a promise of his own. That it was far from over for the both of them.