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Arya followed her sister into their father's study - or she guessed it was Sansa and Jon's study now. Sansa seated herself behind the large desk, and beckoned Arya to take one of the two chairs before it.
"Well, that was certainly quite... impressive," Sansa began - referring to Arya and Brienne's sparring earlier. "You've become very good with that thing," Sansa nodded towards Needle.
"Thank you."
"However, brawling is perhaps not the most useful skill for a highborn lady," Sansa continued.
Arya narrowed her eyes, and exclaimed: "I'm no lady!"
"So you keep saying," Sansa muttered. She paused for a moment. "Unfortunately in this world - the real world, where girls don't wear breeches or climb trees - the career-options for a woman is rather... limited. And for a highborn lady, doubly so."
"You intend to marry me off!" Arya nearly growled, outraged.
"We need allies!" Sansa declared. "Sure, I expect the kingdoms to unite behind us when they see the real threat posed by the Whitewalkers, but by then it may already be too late." She looked at her younger sister imploringly. "We need as many on our side right now - and marriage has always been one way to bind houses together. The House of Stark simply can't afford to let Ned Stark's youngest daughter remain unwed right now... We need to seek a good match for you!"
"I'll be a terrible wife," Arya grumbled, halfway resigned to her fate.
Sansa sighed. "Of that, dear little sister, I have no doubt!"
There were a few moments of silence before Sansa continued: "So apart from sword-fighting, have you learned any skills that may be useful for a future of running a household?"
"Well, I did spend some time as cupbearer for a great lord," Arya started hesitantly.
"Good, good... Anything else?"
"I spent quite some time caring for the dying and preparing them for the funeral."
Sansa grimaced. "Skills I fear will be all too needed in the time to come." She paused. "But hardly a domestic skill."
Arya perked up and gave her sister a mischievous grin. "Well, I did learn to bake meat-pies... and I've been told they're quite delicious." She deliberately avoided specifying exactly what kind of meat she had used...
"Well, there you go!" Sansa exclaimed happily, "There's hope for you yet."
"And I did arrange a party for over forty men, all by myself," Arya added brightly.
"Was it a success?"
"I would say so," Arya replied with a slightly vicious smile. "It certainly didn't take long before everybody was sprawled across the tables, under the tables, and on the floor from drinking"
"Men!" Sansa said with disgust, shaking her head.
Sansa smiled brightly at her sister. "But don't you see," she said excitedly. "You would make a wonderful lady-wife - bearing lots of sons, who'd grow up to become lords and knights!"
Arya barely managed to keep her face - and lunch - impassive at that. "I still don't know," she hedged. "That's not really me."
"Give it time," Sansa said and rose. "Wait and see, I'll have you domesticated in no time."
"Just remember, that a domesticated wolf is just a dog," Arya grumbled.
Sansa laughed. Both sisters left the study, Sansa with a hand on Arya's shoulder.