Not Today

by ebmordecai

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Chapter 1: The River of Death

A/N: Hello everyone! This will be my first Game of Thrones story. Before we start, let's discuss a few things. First, this story begins right after the Gold Cloaks attack Yoren and the men headed to the Wall. In this story, Arya is a little older…about 15 and Gendry about 20. This is an AU, so remember that when you see scenes that are familiar from the book, yet play out totally different. I'm not planning to write GRR Martin's story all over again, because it's perfection already. So, you won't have to worry about letting me know that I'm getting it all wrong, cause well, again it's AU! This will be a long story, filled with more angst that a heart can take, but there will be light moments as well, fluffy moments. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think. This story will be all about Gendry/Arya, because they have taken over my life at the moment! I will be writing about some topics that might not be easy to read, so if you are the faint of heart…take precaution. Some material may not be suitable to some people, but I will try and do it as respectful as possible. Now, on with the show…

Run…run, Arya.

She was running through a darkened hallway, the lights of the flames on the wall dancing around her. It seemed as though the length of the hallway stretched on into eternity. Was there an end in sight? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, light poured in around her. She was momentarily blinded. Though she could not see anything, she could hear noises coming closer. The sound of footsteps reached her ears as her eyes adjusted to the light.

Slowly, she brought her hands from her eyes. The world around her went out of focus and back again before Arya recognized the place where she stood. The dark hallway was long gone. She stood on stoned steps, the place looking somewhat familiar. Arya turned in circles, until finally she realized where she was.

"Why is it that my daughter always looks as if she is looking for trouble?"

Arya turned swiftly around to see her father. He leaned against the stoned walls, a gentle smile on his face. His eyes twinkled with amusement and she couldn't help but smile at him. He returned her smile, his face beaming. Arya ran down the few steps and threw herself into her father's waiting arms. She felt him squeeze her, as if trying to squeeze his love into her small body.

The Tower of the Hand, of course, how could she have forgotten this place? She was in King's Landing. Her father, Ned Stark, was the king's Hand. Sansa was to marry the king's son and heir to the throne, and she…well she wasn't sure what her role in all of this was.

Her father took her hand and sat them down on the last step, his smile never faltering. Arya loved her father with all her heart. Truly, he would be the only man in her life that she needed.

"Run…run, Arya," Ned whispered.

She stared at him, her face growing confused. "Why?" she asked uncertain.

"They will kill you like they have killed me, child," he said faintly.

Arya watched his face, watched the sadness etched in his handsome features. They would kill her like they killed him? Something caught her attention underneath his chin. It was small in appearance at first, but slowly it began to grow. A red line began to grow from underneath her father's left ear and slowly made its way to the other side. Red liquid began to pour from the red line like water. It took only a moment for her to realize it was blood. Her wide eyes shot up to stare into her father's face. In the place of his saddened look, Arya saw pain.

"Father," Arya called fearfully.

His hands that once held her firmly began to loosen. His eyes, those eyes that held so much love and protectiveness, rolled upwards. There was a sickening ripping sound as Arya watched her father's head being lifted from its body. She followed it, not having the strength to look away. Horrible, gruesome things were hanging from the hole where his neck should have been. The blood, dripping down on top of her like waterfalls, scared her the most. Her father's headless body fell forward with a loud crash, yet Arya found something, or rather someone else, to look at.

Joffrey, that horrible excuse for a king, stood above her with her father's head in his hands. The smile underneath his blond locks was cruel and mocking. He held her father's face out before him, already decayed with death. The tears filled her eyes, yet they would not fall…they never fell.

"Your head will be on a pike beside his," Joffrey said laughing.

"No…no, no, no, no," Arya whispered, as if in prayer.

"Bring me her head!" Joffrey screamed to someone behind her.

Arya was grabbed from behind. She desperately tried to pry the hands from her forearms, but whoever was holding her was stronger. She could not see what was happening, but she could hear and feel. She could hear the whisper in the air as the ax was heading towards her neck. She could feel the wind from it flowing over her hair. She felt the exact moment the blade touched the soft part of her neck, a place designated for a lover's kiss not the sharp part of an executioner's ax. She felt her skin begin to split apart as the blade slid through her like a knife in butter. Then, she felt nothing.

"NO!"

Arya shot up from where she lay. Her chest rose in rapid succession, her body pumping blood faster than it should have been possible. Her wide-eyes searched the space around her, and found the bright staircase gone. The Tower of the Hand had been replaced by a dark and dirty room. For a moment, she could not remember where she was. She could only remember the sight of her father's head, remember the sharp point of the blade digging into her neck. Her hand shook as she rubbed her face slowly. As the seconds past, she remembered the here and now.

Someone moved beside her and slowly she looked over. She came face to face with a pair of deep, blue eyes, eyes she had come to count on time and time again. Gendry propped himself up on one elbow. He watched her without words, just as he did every time. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

Arya rose shakily to her feet to cross the room and walk out into the pitch, black night. It seemed these days that the nights were getting longer and darker. Her only comfort was the breeze that blew around her. It felt good on her flushed cheeks. Arya raised her face to the heavens, giving herself a few moments to relish in the feeling. Moments like these were few and far between these days. Even fewer were the minutes they lasted. This particular glorious feeling of the wind lasted only the time it took for Arya to close her eyes. Joffrey's horrible smile and her father's head in his hands squashed any pleasure the wind could give her.

How long had it been since that frightening day? How long had it been since her father was ripped away from her? A traitor, the people had called him. Arya knew they were wrong. Her father was an honorable man, never the traitor they all thought him to be. It had been an outrageous lie by the so called king. Arya hated Joffrey, hated him with a passion that still burned as raw as the day he had murdered her father.

Arya had to flee King's Landing, for she was the daughter of a traitor in people's eyes. She would not let herself think of what would have happened had she been caught that day. Instead, she had been caught by a man named Yoren. He had taken her from the square, her father's body not yet cold, and cut off her long, brown locks. In a matter of moments, he had turned Arya into Arry. With every cut of his blade upon her hair, he burned into her mind that she was now a boy. When he was satisfied, he threw her into his group, a group of murderers and thieves heading for the Wall to serve in the Night's Watch.

Yoren was now dead, along with almost all of the men headed to the wall. The Gold Cloaks had caught up with them and murdered them where they stood. Arya, with her few companions, had narrowly escaped. She had chalked it up to dumb luck. Yoren had promised to take her back to Winterfell, but now he rotted in a shallow grave. She was no closer to being home than she was on the day her father was murdered. Thinking of her father, Arya began to replay her dream. It was always the same, night after night, she would dream of her father and every time Joffrey would murder him.

Arya leaned against the bark of a large tree, sliding down easily to the ground. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on top of them. Her eyes stared straight ahead, yet she could not see past the blackness. She felt completely alone, as if engulfed by the darkness. Arya wished she could cry, wished she could mourn her father's death properly, but not a tear had fallen. She was lost to her family, yet she could not shed a tear for them either. This was not good and she knew it. Deep down in the lowest recesses of her heart, she knew this was not natural. Something had happened to her the day of her father's beheading. Something had broken within her.

There was movement behind her, the sound of a snapping twig. Arya was not frightened by the sound. Without looking, she knew who it was. This was their routine. Arya would wake from her nightmare and seek the solace of the darkness. Not far behind her, Gendry would follow. When the dreams first started, she wanted to scream at him to leave her be. She felt as if he was invading her privacy during a time when she wanted to be alone. However, after some time she found she didn't mind so much. He never spoke, never asked her about the dreams. He never pushed her to explain to him what she was going through. He only ever sat in the darkness beside her…with her. Tonight was no exception. As the hours passed, they sat in silence. She could hear him breathing, hear that she wasn't alone.

"Gendry?" Her voice sounded like thunder in the sky, though it was just above a whisper.

"Hmm?

"Do you ever think about your father? Who he might have been?"

This was the most they had ever spoken to each other in the darkness. Arya didn't know why, but she wanted to hear his voice, wanted to hear that someone was there with her. "Do you ever wonder how different your life would be if you had known him?" she whispered.

"I used to. When I was younger, after my mum died, I would imagine him coming to take me away with him. After a few years of no sign of him, I learned to squelch that thought."

Arya could hear the bitterness in his voice.

"Your dreams," Gendry started, but paused. "It is about your father, isn't it?"

Arya didn't answer him. Her words were caught in her throat. He had never asked before…until now, but she could not tell him yes. Instead, she nodded her head, not all that sure he could see her actions.

"You should get some rest, Gendry," Arya said instead.

She finally looked over at him. He was hidden in shadows. Only the light of the full moon gave her a way to see his face, though it was obscured. Still, she could see his eyes staring at her.

"As milady commands," he said. He dipped his head in a bow.

Arya rolled her eyes. Ever since he had found out she was a girl, he had kidded her about it. He used his favorite phrase as often as he could. He called her milady here and milady there, and every time he would utter those words, she would push him to the ground in frustration. He thought it was comical, laughing as if he would never laugh again.

"Grow up," she muttered as she got to her feet. Just for good measure, she shoved him until he was sprawled on the ground…laughing.

Walking away, she found her dark mood had lifted somewhat. She found instead of wishing to cry, she wished for the smirk on her face to grow into a full blown smile. Just before she walked into their safe haven, Gendry's laughter still ringing in her ears, Arya did smile. Even if it was small, it was a start.

"It hurts!"

Arya stilled her hands over the wound on Lommey's leg. During the siege on Yoren's men, Lommey had been shot in the leg with an arrow. Though Arya knew it must hurt like hell, her lack of sleep from the night before made her patience low. She had to clean his wound, though it did not look as if it was helping anything. The wound was festering, growing in size and smelling to high heaven. All around it, blue welts could be seen. Arya knew it was a sign of blood poisoning. Lommey needed more than just water to clean the wound. He needed medicine, but there was none, nor would there be.

Sweat ran down his brown. His teeth were grinding in pain as she continued to rub the wound. Blood and puss poured out of the hole in his leg. Arya had to hold her breath to keep from chocking on the smell. Hot Pie had left even before she began her work. Gendry wasn't far behind. The only one who stayed was the small girl that Arya had rescued. Her mother had died before the siege on Yoren's men had happened, but the girl was left to fend for herself. The night Yoren died, Arya had gone back to save the girl, almost getting herself killed, but Gendry had come back for them both. She was a girl of four, her name unknown. They decided to call her Weasel for lack of a better idea. It seemed she and Arya were the only ones who could stand the sight of Lommey's leg, or the smell for that matter.

The five of them were all that was left of the ones marching to the Wall. Ever since that night, four nights past, they had been on the run and trying to stay ahead of the Gold Cloaks. Only now, it seemed their progress had slowed some. Lommey was getting worse and his strength was dying like a flame blowing out in the breeze. Even now, Arya could feel death all around the room, though Lommey's eyes still held some strength of life. She remembered how horribly mean he had been to her when they had first met. Now, her dislike of him had faded somewhat. She couldn't actually say that she liked him, but it was better than hating him, especially at the end of his life.

"I don't want to die," he said softly.

It was the same every time she cleaned his wounds. Arya never answered, thinking maybe he was speaking to his gods. She would never look him in the eyes when he said it. She thought it better to detach herself from the situation. Blood and puss never seemed as interesting as it did in those moments after he confessed his fear of death.

"Sleep," she said, standing to leave. She needed fresh air, needed to get away from the stench.

"Arry," Lommey called out weakly.

She hesitated at the door, turning to the side, yet still not looking at him. "I-I've asked Hot Pie, even Gendry, but I know that won't tell me the truth. So, I'm asking you…"

He hesitated a moment, as if the strain of speaking was too much for him. Arya stared straight ahead, waiting on him to speak. Beside her, Weasel stood closely. The small girl reached up and took Arya's hand in hers. It would seem the girl had found comfort in Arya.

"Am I going to die?" he whispered.

Arya turned to him then. Their eyes met, holding to each other. "Yes," she said. Her voice was void of any emotions. Some would say she sounded cold, but what was she to do? It would not help Lommey to see her tears, even if she could have produced them. What he needed from her was the truth; however she may have chosen to say it.

"Well that puts a damper in things doesn't it?" he said more to himself than to Arya.

Everyone dies, she thought as she walked out of the safe haven. Weasel did not join her, choosing to stay with Lommey instead. Just wait Weasel, in a few years you will learn not to care as well.

Hot Pie was sitting on the ground slowly breaking a twig apart. He did not look up to see Arya pass by him. She wasn't sure how close he and Lommey were. All she knew was that she had met them together, and it seemed as though they had been friends. He was not the one she sought, so she passed without word.

Gendry was collecting branches to start a fire for their dinner. Tonight, they would be roasting what few rabbits and squirrels they had captured. They were babies, and not much meat on the bone, but it would have to do. Beggers can't be choosers. Arya sat down on a nearby log and watched him begin the fire. They didn't speak at first, not until the smoke began to rise.

"He's close, Gendry," Arya said.

Gendry stared at the small fire as it grew. "Are you sure?"

"I've been cleaning his leg for days now. I know what I see." And I know what I smell.

She watched Gendry stand up straight. He looked around him as if the answers to his unsaid questions could be found. With a deep sigh, he strode over to where Arya sat. He sat down heavily beside her, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. She stared at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to do. Arya wanted to say something to ease his burden, but he had put it upon himself to be the leader of their little convoy. Arya had indulged him, though not without a few heated arguments.

"How long do you think he has?" Gendry asked.

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "I have no clue, I'm no healer, but by the way the wound has festered and reeks of disease, he will be lucky to last the night."

Gendry nodded his head at this. "We will stay here until he passes. He and Hot Pie seem to be close, so for them both we will make this easy."

Arya knew that wasn't what Gendry wanted to do. He wanted to be far away from this place as soon as possible. Each day they lagged behind was another day the Gold Cloaks got closer to them. Arya wasn't the only one the Queen was searching for. For some reason, not known to either of them, Gendry was wanted as well. The truth of it was, the Gold Cloaks had been after them because of Gendry, but if they ever found out who Arya was, she would be in just as much danger. Her brother was at war against the Lannisters and the Lannisters sat on the iron throne.

"There's a river nearby. I think I'll take Weasel with me to have a swim. You and Hot Pie should try cleaning for a change as well. You two reek!" Arya said, desperate to change the subject. When things got serious, both of them knew how to lighten the mood.

"I'm the man of the wood now. I'm supposed to stink," Gendry said. She could hear the soft sound of playfulness in his voice.

His sour mood seemed to ease a bit with her jest. She thought that a good sign. When Gendry was laid back and easygoing, Arya knew things were okay. It was the brooding, bad-tempered Gendry that scared her the most. It meant their situation was dire.

"Fine, don't wash up, but be sure to sit downwind of me at supper, so you won't spoil my appetite!" Arya said, rising.

"As milady commands," Gendry bowed and chuckled.

With a huff, Arya gave Gendry one good push and sent him sprawling off the log. His back hit the hard earth hard, but it did little to stop the laughter bubbling out of him. Arya told herself she would not laugh. If she did, he would never cease in calling her milady.

"Bull-headed little boy," Arya mumbled as she went to retrieve Weasel.

It took a lot of coaxing on Arya's part to get Weasel away from Lommey, but after a long while the girl went willingly. Arya had explained they were going swimming to cool down. With nothing to wash themselves, no soaps or perfumes, the river water would have to do. The river was set a ways away from the safe haven they had found, which was just a small shack in the middle of nowhere. The inhabitants had long been gone. Where the river ran, Arya wasn't sure, but it was cool to the touch and delicious to drink.

They came to the bank of the river. The sound of the rushing water was so inviting, Arya thought to just jump in with her clothes on. She knew without touching it that it would be cold, but that was what she was looking forward to the most. Perhaps, it would be cold enough to silence the voices in her head, and the horrible images they showed her. She called them her demons, because they started the day her father was murdered. They whispered things, horrible things to her of death and destruction. Some moments, she felt consumed by them, but she would find a way to battle out of their hold and back to reality. The voices were her secret, something even Gendry did not know about.

Arya felt a tug on the bottom of her shirt. She looked down to see Weasel staring at her. The girl pointed to the river. She wanted to get in. Weasel began to get undressed, but Arya hesitated. There was a strange sound coming from the river. The rushing water began to grow in volume. The sound was queer to Arya's ears, for she had never heard it before. Weasel walked past her to climb in, but Arya reached out and stopped her.

"Put your clothes back on, Weasel. We're going back," Arya said.

A feeling of dread overtook Arya, though she couldn't explain it. Weasel pointed towards the water again, more forcefully this time. She was not happy with Arya's decision. As the seconds ticked passed, and nothing happened, Arya wondered if her imagination was getting the better of her. Was she creating this dread that flowed through her body for no reason? For a moment, she thought about calling for Gendry, but if she was wrong and there was nothing to fear, he would never let her live it down.

Weasel took a step towards the river, but her tiny body froze in mid-step. Arya watched as the girl began to shake. Looking from Weasel to the river, Arya watched as something floated past them. At first, she thought it was a log, until she saw that the log had arms, legs and hair. It was a body. It floated past them face down. She wasn't even sure if it was a man or woman. The body was too bloated. Weasel let out a soft moan of horror.

Arya grabbed her, turning her swiftly away from the floating body as it went downstream. Her need for a swim was all but shattered. Still, the loud sound from the river continued. Unable to see up ahead due to the trees around the bank of the river, Arya waited to see what would come. When she thought back on this moment, she would realize what a horrible mistake that would be. To her horror, another body came into view. This time, it was floating face up, though she still could not tell the gender. One arm was missing, the blood stopping long ago from the wound left from the missing arm. She could see a piece of bone protruding out.

As the body floated past, heading in the same direction as the first, Arya realized the river had not finished giving up its secrets. It seemed now that it had her attention, its flood gates came open. One after the other, bodies began to float in front of them. Some were large, while others were small. Some held hands, while others floated alone in their death. The whole of the river, from one side to the other began to fill with floating bodies. She could easily see how most of them had died, for they still wore their mortal wounds. That is, if they were recognizable at all. It wasn't until the smaller bodies began to float past, their numbers too great to count, that Weasel began to scream. Arya did not even try to stop her.

Behind her, she could hear Gendry yelling her name, Hot Pie yelling Weasel's. She could not answer, even if it had meant her life. Her eyes, as wide as saucers, continued to watch the bodies swim past her in the river of death. The voices in her head were having a field day with her sanity. At the exact moment her eyes caught the body of a small baby, she felt someone grab her from behind. Arya was turned around, her back turned to the river of death. Gendry was there, pulling her into his chest, shielding her from having to see. Hot Pie grabbed Weasel, mimicking Gendry's actions, but he also turned from the river. Gendry stood rooted to the spot, crushing Arya to him. She could hear his heart beating wildly. She could feel his rapid breathing on the nape of her neck. He was staring at the madness in the river.

"Seven hells," he croaked. Yes, in the end, everyone dies.

Chapter 2: You Are Not Alone

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

His jaw clenched from the weight put upon him by helping Lommey move. The boy's strength was all but gone and Gendry had to basically carry him. Lommey's head was tilted to one side, sweat pouring off his forehead like water. His cheek was inches away from Arya's shoulder, for she was trying to help carry some of the load. Gendry knew if she wasn't helping him, he would have grown tired hours ago.

Ever since the gruesome scene at the river, they had fled from the area. Lommey had objected at first, whining that he was in too much pain to move. It was Hot Pie who had explained what they had just witnessed. His pudgy face was wet with tears, but he showed no shame in them. Lommey had listened with a mixture of fascination and horror, yet he continued to protest the move. Arya had jumped in then, stating that if they didn't move whatever had slaughter those villagers would be on them next. Still, Lommey would not agree. It took Gendry grabbing him roughly by the shirt, his angered face inches away from Lommey's for the boy to finally consent. Gendry had sworn to him that they would leave him to rot, and Lommey had believed him.

They had been on foot for most of the day. Gendry had lost count after the first few hours. His shoulders were killing him where Lommey hung on and his legs were feeling no better. He looked over at Arya, seeing her face drenched in sweat and looking tired. He was amazed at how well she had kept up with him, helping him as much as she could. She was stronger than he had thought. Hot Pie was not in any better shape than they were. It had been left up to him when the girl, Weasel, had become too tired to walk. Without having to be asked, Hot Pie had raised her on top of his shoulders and began carrying her the rest of the way. Both Gendry and Arya stared at him as if he had grown two heads. If he noticed their looks, he never commented.

"Stop," Lommey mumbled.

Gendry ignored him, pushing everyone forward. Even at the rate they were going, he felt they were not near as far away from the river as he would have liked them to be. His mind floated to the decomposed bodies, the faces unrecognizable. He had never seen anything like it, nor did he want to again. Sure, he had seen dead men before, that is not what scared him. What scared him were the smaller bodies, the bodies of the children. They were the innocent ones in this cruel world. Most of them were no older than Weasel, and some were younger. What sort of monsters would do such a thing like what they had witnessed? He knew the answer as soon as he thought the question. Those monsters that had destroyed a whole village were the same monsters after him. Those same monsters were after Arya as well, though they did not know it.

Ever since they had come looking for him, Gendry had wondered why. He had a feeling that Yoren knew, but the bastard had died before he had given Gendry as much as a hint. The looks the man would give him were the same looks he would give Arya, and Gendry knew why the queen wanted her. He had warned them the night he died that if the battle took a turn for the worse that both of them should run. Why protect him at all? Why would Yoren have not asked him to fight along with the others? He wasn't anyone special, just a bastard and an armorer's apprentice. Even the man that had taken care of him all these years didn't think Gendry was anything special, for he shipped him off like a sack of spoiled potatoes.

"Stop!" Lommey said more forcefully.

At the sound of his friend's plea, Hot Pie began to slow down. He looked at Lommey, his face uncertain, and then looked at Gendry for approval to stop. Gendry could tell Lommey was not the only one who wanted to stop. Everyone was dead on their feet. Looks were exchanged throughout the group, and Gendry knew they had no choice.

"Just for a moment," he said.

Hot Pie, Weasel and Lommey dropped to the ground where they stood. Gendry and Arya were the only ones left standing. He watched her staring out into the forest before them. Gendry had to admit he was a little worried about her. She had not spoken a word since he jerked her from staring at the river. Though she was of the age of five and ten, the horrors of the river were more than someone her age would be able to take. She had not cried, had not screamed. Arya had just stared.

As he opened his mouth to speak to her, she stepped over Lommey's shaking body and walked away. Gendry watched her for a moment, not sure if he should follow or not. This was not in the dead of night. This was not after one of her nightmares where he would just sit with her without words just to comfort her as best he knew how, which he was not sure if it was even a comfort or not. Usually their time in the darkness would start off heavy with grief and loss, but it would not stay that way. Arya's nightmares would release their hold on her before the dawn broke through. Though she never confided in him what haunted her in those nightmares, he could tell it was taking a toll on her. If his presence alone was enough to comfort her so be it. Words could wait till the light of a new day.

Out of everyone in their small group, Gendry held Arya's opinion above all else. She was strong, resilient and she would have his back, he already knew. After only a short time knowing her, he knew she would be an ally if he ever needed one, which if he looked at their present circumstances, it would be soon enough.

He followed her, until she came to a stop between two large trees. Arya's hands came to her face, rubbing slowly. "Arya," he called to her.

Though it was small, he did not miss the flinch that coursed down her body. "What?" she mumbled.

Gendry walked the rest of the way to her, standing by her side. He never stood in front of her, never behind, but always beside her. All at once, he felt the aches and pains in his body, felt the exhaustion of carrying Lommey. If he could have slept for days, he would have without so much as a thought in his head, though he could not say he would have been able to wake from such a sleep. The Gold Cloaks would have caught up with him easily.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she answered too fast, too controlled.

"Really?" he asked, not believing her. She must have heard it in his voice, for she turned angered eyes towards him. He was used to her anger, to her crankiness, but he never faulted her for it. They were all in danger, so he felt she was entitled to her anger. After what he knew she had been through, anyone would be consumed with anger and rage.

"If you are expecting me to break down, don't worry. It isn't going to happen," she spat.

"Fair enough," he said softly, not pushing her.

Gendry prided himself in being able to read people, their character, and he learned that when Arya was in the state of anger, it was best to air on the side of caution. She was a spitfire, a cobra that would strike if cornered. He had learned that the hard way with his teasing of her. Though it hurt like hell when she pushed him down for calling her 'milady', he enjoyed the bantering a lot. Most of the time, it would bring Arya from underneath the hand of her fears. Gendry knew she would never admit it, but he had the feeling that she liked his endearment for her.

This was not nighttime, and Arya was not going to allow him in her world like she did then. Gendry was aware of this, but still he could not make himself walk away from her. Though this was not their routine, he stood vigil over her while she battled within herself. Not until Lommey called out for them did they return to the others.

They only had a small amount of water. Gendry realized they could not use the water on both Lommey's leg and for drinking. Arya was looking from the water to Lommey's leg, a look of understanding on her face. Gendry knew she understood what that meant. Lommey's leg would not be cleaned anytime soon.

"T-thirsty," Lommey whispered.

The girl, Weasel, was by his side, rubbing his arm softly in comfort. Gendry found it odd that a girl of her age knew to comfort the dying. Then, he remembered how the girl's mother had died right after they had found them. Perhaps, she had learned it then. Arya raised the canister to Lommey's mouth, some of the water spilling out of the sides of his lips. A thought hit Gendry then, one that had him feeling ashamed. Why should we waste our water on a dead boy, he thought. He turned away from the others in shame, as if he had said it out loud.

Gendry left the others in search of wood. He would start a small fire, just enough for them to eat something, for they had left without eating. His stomach growled as if to support his idea. With his arms full, he walked back to the others. The fire was blazing a while later, the pop and sizzle of the wood echoing in the forest. They had cooked two baby rabbits and a squirrel. Gendry stared at the fire, brooding. The small amount of food did nothing but make him hungrier, but he knew no matter what the protein was beneficial for him. He had to stay strong, had to keep his head. The others were counting on him and he would not fail them, though he wished it was just him and Arya. If it was just them two, they would have been far enough away from the Gold Cloaks that he could breathe easier. Again, he felt shame well up inside him.

"Sleep…I am so tired," Lommey moaned.

Their eyes were on the boy lying close to the fire. He was on his back, his eyes staring up at the sky above them. To Gendry, they looked dead, empty. It amazed him Lommey had lasted this long. Perhaps he was stronger than Gendry had thought.

"Go to sleep, Lommey. We will wake you when we are ready to go," Arya said.

He peered over at her. She was staring, not at Lommey, but at the fire. The flames danced in her wide, round eyes. He knew what Arya was saying, knew she was telling him to give in to death. There would be no waking Lommey later. When those dead eyes closed for the last time, the body would follow not far behind. Hot Pie stood up and walked a short distance away. His shoulders were heaving in the effort to keep his sobs low. Gendry had seen the tears on the boy's face before he stood to walk away. Weasel looked from Lommey to Hot Pie, as if she wasn't sure who to go to. She was holding Lommey's hand, but she placed it back on his chest softly. Even the four year old knew Lommey was as good as gone. She got to her feet and joined Hot Pie, holding the side of his shirt in comfort. Gendry expected the boy to be mean to Weasel in embarrassment of his tears, but instead, Hot Pie reached down and took the girl's hand in his.

Again, Gendry looked back at Arya, but she had not taken her eyes off the fire. He would give anything to know what was in her head, what she was thinking. He would not ask, for if she wanted him to know she would tell him. The smallest of gasps, the smallest of breaths left Lommey's mouth bringing Gendry's attention back on the boy. Lommey's chest had stopped moving, his eyes staring but unseeing. His mouth was slightly opened, but Gendry knew no air moved within. Death had finally come to take the boy away from this place. For a moment, Gendry envied him.

"Gendry, you and Hot Pie find soft earth. Dig a hole, as deep as you can get it, so the wolves will not find him," Arya said. Her voice was distant, void of the emotions that he himself was fighting, though he did not even know Lommey. He stared for a moment, desperate to make eye contact with her, but she never looked up from the fire. "The sooner we get it done, the faster we can get a move on," she added.

"Arya…" he began, but she cut him off. "Just…just do it, okay," she whispered.

Gendry got slowly to his feet and walked away. He grabbed Hot Pie, tearing his hold away from Weasel. They walked a good ways forward before Gendry found the right spot. With the shovel in his hand, the same shovel that had helped Yoren to his shallow grave, he began to dig. Hot Pie watched him, his dirty face streaked with tears.

"I knew him only for a short time, but he was the first person that was ever nice to me. He never made fun of how fat I was," Hot Pie said low.

Gendry did not reply, for what could he say? There were no words of comfort for the boy. This was life, you live and you die. It just so happened that some died sooner than others. For a moment, his thoughts went to the small bodies on the river. Everyone dies, he thought.

It took him a while, but he finally reached a depth he was certain the wolves would not reach. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Gendry turned to retrieve Lommey's body.

"He's afraid of the dark, Gendry," Hot Pie cried.

"He's dead, so he won't know the difference," Gendry responded without stopping to look at Hot Pie, his words cutting even himself deeply.

As he reached down to pick the boy up, Arya joined him. She grabbed Lommey's legs making Gendry pause. They stared at each other, speaking without words. Though he could carry Lommey easily, Arya wanted to help. Gendry nodded his head once and grabbed the boy's arms. He was so light, lighter than when Gendry had to help him walk. His soul is gone. He's a little lighter than he used to be, he thought to himself.

They placed Lommey inside his shallow grave. Gendry picked up the shovel, throwing the dirt as softly as he could on top of him. Hot Pie, Weasel and Arya stood around the hole, watching as the earth covered up their companion. Though Lommey had grated on Gendry's nerves, the boy didn't deserve this kind of death, this kind of burial. What could have been done about it, though? This was a time of war and no one would go unscathed.

Gendry wondered if he should say something. He remembered when his mother had died. Someone had spoken on his behalf and on the small number of people who knew her. Yet, words failed him now.

"Goodbye Lommey."

Gendry, Arya and Hot Pie turned to the smallest member of their group. She had not spoken a word since they had known her, just cried. But she had been the first person, the only person, to speak on Lommey's behalf. The little girl turned from the shallow grave and walked away. Gendry followed her with his eyes, wondering what kind of damage this world was doing to someone as small as she. Arya was the next one to turn and leave. After a few moments of silence between him and Hot Pie, Gendry left as well.

When Hot Pie had finally joined them, they grabbed their small belongings and took to the road again. Gendry could not stop the thought of how easier it was now. Death had decided to take care of their weakest link. None of them talked the rest of the way. No one knew quite what to say. Hot Pie walked with Weasel on his shoulders, while Gendry and Arya walked side by side. They walked well into the night, until they finally had to stop due to not being able to see their way. There was no small shack, nothing for them to rest their heads under, other than the large trees.

Gendry lay with one arm behind his head. He stared up at the starless sky, blackness so deep he feared it would fall upon them and swallow them whole. Hot Pie was softly snoring. Weasel was curled up to his thick side, her small hand holding on to a part of his shirt. Besides Gendry, Arya laid curled in a ball. Her back was turned to him, but he could hear the soft moans and gasps. Her nightmares were upon her and it would only be a matter of time before she jerked awake. He waited patiently, and soon enough, she jerked awake. Arya sat straight up, her chest heaving up and down. Her head turned from one direction to another, her wide-eyes looking for something familiar.

He rolled to his side, looking up at her and waiting for the eye contact. As surely as she did every night, Arya found his eyes in the dark. The same grimace was plastered to her face, and then she stood up to walk away. He gave her a few moments to get herself back in control, a few minutes to herself, and then he rose to join her.

Arya was sitting on the cold ground, her knees pulled to her chest as she rocked slowly back and forth. Her head was bowed, her body lightly shaking. Gendry gently sat beside her, bringing his own knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. He waited, not saying a word like always. After several minutes, she finally looked up at him. Each time he sat with her, one thing that he always hoped to see were her tears. It wasn't that he wanted her to cry, but he did want to see that she was grieving the way she should. He knew what to expect this time, and sure enough, her eyes were clear. No tears could be found. The night before, he had been surprised when she had asked him about his father, for they never had talked during these times before, but tonight, he knew she would not say a word.

His next actions were not thought about, he just did it. Somehow, it felt right. He would not let himself think of the consequences, wouldn't let himself think of the sting of rejection. All that mattered to him in that moment was to comfort Arya however he could.

His arm came around her shoulders, sitting there awkwardly for just a moment. He waited for her to push him away. He waited for her to snap her face towards him with her look of anger. He waited for her to jump up and storm away from him, but she did none of these things. What she did do surprised him. Arya slowly leaned in to him, until she was resting her head on his chest. The awkwardness of his embrace ebbed away as he held her firmly. Arya breathed deeply, the air rippling his shirt. They sat like that for the rest of the night covered in the darkness around them.

Though he knew his words would not comfort her more than his embrace, Gendry felt as if he should say something to her. There was only one thing he could say, one thing that would be true above anything else. He could not promise her it would get better. He could not even promise her that they would be alive tomorrow, but he could promise her this.

"You are not alone, Arya," he whispered.

Chapter 3: The Water Dance

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya had not slept any that night. She knew she would regret it the moment they began walking again. She was just tired of the dreams, tired of the same nightmare over and over. Even as she assured Gendry she was fine, she had stared at the blackened sky with sleep well away from her grasps. What she would not give for her bed at Winterfell. She was tired of the dirt and twigs as a bed. She kicked a small pebble from her path, totally aware that she was brooding like Gendry. He was starting to rub off on her.

Arya bent down, taking a thick stick in her hand. She looked it over. Stretching it out, she got in the Water Dance stance Syrio had taught her. When his face floated in her mind, she felt her heart squeeze. He had given his life for her, trying to help her escape. She had no clue what happened to him after he told her to run. Knowing Joffrey, Syrio's head was on a pike beside her father's. The thought made her angry and filled with rage.

She began to swing the stick right, then left…then right again. In her head, his voice called to her, instructed her. Before Arya knew it, she was battling against an invisible foe. The stick slashed through the air in deadly accuracy. Her eyes closed as she went through the motions exactly the way Syrio had taught her. Fighting sideways, she became the smaller target.

She saw Joffrey's face, and the queen's. She saw the Hound and the men of the Gold Cloaks who had killed Yoren and inevitably Lommey. She saw the man they called the Mountain and so many more. She would kill them; kill them all with a swift sword and one blow to the neck. She would punch through the flesh of their chest, cut the flesh of their limbs. Whatever it took to cut them down, Arya would do it without a single thought of remorse.

The stick was moving at such a pace as Arya had never done before. She felt the power surge within her, felt their blood already soaking into the hand that held the imaginary blade. One of these days, by the gods, Needle would dance to the song of blood.

She glided from one tree truck the next, slicing here and there. Each bark was a face in her vision and each face fell to the ground, dead. They will pay father. I swear they will pay, she thought. She wanted to scream out for Winterfell, but she did not want to scare the others. The rage took her over as Joffrey filled her vision again. She began swinging at the trunk of the tree. One after the other her blows hit bark.

Even when the stick broke into pieces in her hands, she did not stop. In one swift motion, she grabbed Needle. Pieces of bark flew around her, as if she were chopping the tree down. Each hit wasn't good enough, each slash did not do the job. Joffrey still stood upright, still breathed his life. The Water Dance was forgotten and she grabbed Needle with both hands, screaming out in anger at the bark that had done her no harm, yet took the face of Joffrey.

"Arya," she heard someone call behind her.

She did not stop, too caught up in her rage. The next few seconds happened in a blur. The moment she felt the hand grab her arm, her mind went into a frenzy. She turned on the person trying to subdue her. Needle went flying through the air, but it cut nothing. With eyes blazing in madness, Arya looked around and horror grabbed her at once. Weasel crouched down on the ground, her small body shaking in fear. Arya let Needle drop from her hands, her wide-eyes staring at the small girl. It had been Weasel who had called to her, who had grabbed her arm.

Arya's eyes found Gendry. He was staring at her with a look of fear and concern. Beside him, Hot Pie was gaping at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. Weasel began to cry and Arya took a couple of steps away from her. She looked back at Gendry, pleading to him with her eyes. The thought of what would have happened if it would have been Gendry or Hot Pie that had grabbed her made Arya turn and run. Her blade would have slit their throats before she could have controlled herself.

"Arya," Gendry called behind her, but she did not stop.

It did not matter if she stopped or not, he was able to reach her easily. What surprised her was that he had the strength to reach out and grab her just like Weasel had done. Granted, she did not have a dangerous weapon in her hands, but she could have tried to hurt him nonetheless. He pulled her to a stop, turning her to look at him. Arya could not meet his eyes. Instead, she stared at his Adam's apple. It was bobbing up and down with every breath he sucked in.

"What happened back there?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she panted.

"Don't give me that, Arya. I watched you try to chop down a tree, and then almost chop down Weasel. You can't pretend we are in the dark now. You can't expect me not to say something!" Gendry said angrily.

Arya flinched at his anger. They had never spoken about their routine at night. To hear him speak of it in anger made her feel worse. She wrenched her arm from his hold, choosing to hold on to her anger, instead of allowing him to see her being weak.

"She grabbed me, scared me is all. She should have known better than to grab my arm while I was swinging Needle," Arya spat, turning to walk away.

She knew it was a poor excuse, and she knew that Gendry wouldn't buy it. He was smarter than that.

"She is four, Arya. What stupid excuse would you have given if it would have been me or Hot Pie? You would have killed us both!" Gendry shot back.

Arya did not respond, but kept walking. She needed to get as far away from them as she could. The voices in her head were hissing. The names of the people she wanted to see lying at her feet bleeding swam in her vision.

"Arya, I need you to keep a cool head right now! We are not even close to being far from those Gold Cloaks. If we all fall apart now, we are as good as dead."

Arya continued walking, and as the minutes passed, she realized Gendry had not followed her. It was for the best. She needed to calm down, and it would not do her any good for him to be here. She knew Gendry cared about her, though she did not know why. Anyone else would have left her a long time ago, but Gendry was different. He had gone beyond the call of duty to protect her and the others. Even though Arya was loathed to admit it, Gendry was right. She could not lose control again like she just did. She could not allow her rage to take over. Again, she thought what would have happened if it would have been anyone other than Weasel that had grabbed her arm. The only thing that saved the girl was her height. Arya had swung Needle above her head.

That thought sobered her immediately and she sank to the ground in horror. She could have killed Weasel. She could have killed them all if they would have tried to subdue her. Arya feared she was losing her mind. She squeezed her eyes closed, begged the tears to come. Of course, they did not show.

Gendry found her a while later still sitting on the ground. She was completely calm, the anger seeping out hours ago. He sat down beside her, bumping his shoulder with hers lightly. She smiled faintly, bumping him back. They sat in silence for a while, each one not sure what to say.

"I can't do this without you, Arya. Sure, I could go out alone and try to find my way, but I would be dead in days, weeks at the most. Two heads are always better than one. I need you to trust me," Gendry said.

"You don't think I trust you?" Arya asked.

"No, not completely. Not like I trust you," he said softly.

This caught Arya totally by surprised and her face snapped up to look at him. There was no lie in his eyes. He had meant every word. Had she ever had someone to trust her completely, outside of her family? Even some in her family she questioned their trust in her.

"Sometimes I lose myself in the rage, in the anger of what has happened," she whispered before she realized.

Gendry nodded his head in understanding. His eyes never left hers. He had eyes that could look into her very soul, and that moment, Arya felt that they did. "I don't know what to do when my rage takes over. It's getting stronger and stronger with each passing day."

"You are strong, Arya, probably one of the strongest people I've ever met. You have been through a lot, we all have, and we are made to stay strong when most people would have broken down by now. In those times where you do not feel like you're strong enough, that is where I have to come in, and vice-versa. When you feel yourself going to that dark place, search for me and I will be there," Gendry whispered.

Arya was surprised to find that she was hoping for Gendry to tell her that. In the quiet of the forest around them, as they sat without another word, Arya realized she would die for him if the need arose. How had they become so close in such a sort amount of time, and how did it happen without her seeing it?

"Thank you," she said.

He bowed his head to her, cutting their eye contact. They sat there a few more minutes before standing and walking back to Hot Pie and Weasel. The small girl looked at her in fear, until Arya smiled at her. It took her a while, but Weasel began warming back up to her and it helped that Arya apologized. Hot Pie still seemed uneasy around her, but she chalked it up as to Hot Pie remembering the day she actually threatened him with a sword. Since that day, he had never quite been able to trust her completely, though she didn't blame him.

"Earlier, before you cut up that defenseless tree, what were you doing? It looked like some kind of dance." It was well after midnight and Gendry and Arya were still up. Gendry was keeping watch and Arya wasn't quite ready to meet Joffrey in her dreams. The humor in the first part of his question did not go unnoticed, and Arya rolled her eyes.

"It's called a Water Dance. My instructor in King's Landing was teaching me before…" she could not finish. "It is the way to fight if you must know."

"Huh, and here I thought the way to fight was you standing upright and your opponent lying at your feet dead," Gendry said playfully.

Arya snorted, "Yes, but how do you get your opponent on the ground dead at your feet?"

Gendry stared at her thoughtfully. She could see the wheels in his mind turning and she wondered what he was up to. Without word, he stood up and walked out of sight. She followed him, but he was lost in the darkness.

A few minutes later, she heard him walking back towards her. He was carrying something, but she could not tell what it was while he was surrounded by darkness. It was not until he stepped into the light that she noticed the sticks in his hands. They were of the same size and thickness as the one she had used earlier. Arya looked at Gendry in confusion. He laid one of the sticks at her feet and bowed low.

"Milady, I would appreciate it if you would show me the Water Dance. Let us put your theory of this being the way to fight to the test."

Arya scoffed at him, but rose to her feet. "You know, it is quite stupid of you to use that name with me right before you want to fight me. I might be small, but I am better than you think, and I am not responsible if I hurt you."

Gendry chuckled, "Believe me I know you're a spitfire, but I want to see how well you deal with a fight. I might not be there to protect you if the need arises."

As Arya dropped into the Water Dance, she grinned. "I need no man to protect me from a fight," she whispered.

Gendry grinned back. She could tell that he was enjoying the bantering as much as she was. "Well then, prove it to me," he said.

"Hold nothing back?" Arya asked.

"Nothing," Gendry responded.

At first, neither of them made a move. They began sizing one another up. Gendry was standing tall and strong, facing her head on with his stick out before him. Arya wanted to tell him that was his first mistake, but she kept her mouth shut. He would figure it out soon enough. She on the other hand was standing to the side. Syrio had told her standing sideways would make her the smaller target. It proved useful as Gendry made the first move, swinging his stick too far to the left and hitting nothing but air. Arya stepped back, grinning at his miss.

He came at her again without warning, but she had no problem stepping out of the way of his blows. Though it was obvious he had no training, Gendry was not that bad of a swordsman. When Arya found an open to Gendry's left, she took it. She twisted around him as he came forward to strike her, her stick finding the side of his hip.

He grunted at the pain, but recovered without problem. He twisted to face her and they stood where the other had stood moments before. Arya dropped back into the Water Dance, waiting, watching. She watched with her eyes, listened with her ears. Gendry came at her from the right side this time and she had to block his blow. She felt the sting rise up her arms to her shoulders, but she had deflected it with ease. They danced around each other for a few moments, both staring the other down. The flames of the fire danced in their eyes as they circled one another.

Arya made the next move, swinging left, then right and then left again, driving him backwards. Gendry blocked her blows, though the last almost made impact. He jumped from her reach to reset himself. Beads of sweat began to appear on his face. His black hair clung to his forehead. He came at her then, driving his stick at every part of her. She was able to block a few and jump out of the way of the others, but one found its mark on her arm and she staggered backwards, reaching up to hold the offended flesh. She gasped as the pain filled her body. Even though Gendry said he wouldn't hold back, she knew if he would have hit her with all of his force her arm would have been shattered. Still, it hurt like the Seven Hells. Gendry looked at her, mortified, not really believing he had actually hit her, but she did not give him the time to linger on his guilt.

She attacked him, using every move and point Syrio had given her. Her stick made contact with his leg, but she did not stop. She made contact with his arm and his stomach, but he did not yield. Suddenly, he reached out with a swiftness she did not know he had and grabbed her unoccupied wrist. Arya twisted herself in his hold, knowing he would release his grip some as to not break her bone. She was correct and it gave her the momentum to twist around to him, as if he were twirling her in a dance.

The moment she came back around, she raised her stick to his throat, but he was waiting with his stick as well. When the both came to a stop, panting and leaning in to each other, their sticks were at the other's throat. Gendry smiled the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. Her stomach did a flop, sending her mind reeling. He was too close to her, too close for her comfort. His closeness made her mind fuzzy, made her stomach do summersaults as if she were ill. His smile showed her that he thought it was a drawl. He stared at her, she at him and for an instance, she forgot where she was. His eyes were so blue, as deep as the ocean of which she knew they were made from. His smile fell somewhat as his eyes glazed over. She could feel his heart pumping fast, feel his breath hitting her face. Suddenly, he was leaning in to her and it scared her. She had never kissed a boy, but it certainly looked like what was fixing to happen here.

Gendry stopped himself before he leaned any further in to her. His face looked uncertain, and Arya knew their chance had passed by. She was right as Gendry pulled back from her, yet he did not let her go. His face went from uncertainty to gloating. He had thought it was over, but if he knew anything about the Water Dance he would have been prepared. She was taught to never stop until the opponent was conquered, dead.

While he was busy giving her a goofy grin, she spun around him. He had no choice but to let her wrist go, otherwise he would have broken it. It was the opportunity she was waiting for and she took it with a vengeance. With one quick move, she was on top of his back, her stick held at his throat.

"Dead boy," she whispered in his ear.

He burst out laughing, despite the fact that he was just beaten by a girl. Arya couldn't help but join in as her laughter rose to meet his. It had felt so good dueling after what felt like so long. It had felt good to know she had just honored Syrio. Where ever he might be, perhaps he would be proud of her. Perhaps even her father would be proud to have seen what she had just done. Arya had beaten someone twice her size and a man at that.

Her laughter did not last long as a scream of surprise took its place. Gendry leaned forward in smooth motion, sending Arya straight for the ground. Before she had a chance to make contact, he grabbed her, bringing her to her feet. She was dizzy and staggered forward, but Gendry was there to catch her. He held her arms until she was steady on her feet.

"That was a great move, Arya, but if it had been someone other than me, your wrist would be broken," he said chuckling.

A few moments passed by before she answered. She was trying to get her breath and calm her dizzy head. "That's true, but I can live with a broken wrist while they lay dead at my feet."

"You think you can teach me this Water Dance?" Gendry asked.

Arya felt the pride rise in her again. What would Syrio think if he would have heard Gendry asking her that? "Sure, if you like."

"Tomorrow, because right now, I am exhausted," he laughed.

Arya grinned at him as she lay on the ground. She felt just as exhausted, and before she knew it she was sound asleep.

The next day, she marveled at the restful night she received. There were no nightmares, no Joffrey overtaking her mind. She had not dreamed of her dead father, but of a dance with Gendry. She had dreamed of the clashing of wooden swords and the feeling of pride. Even as her stomach growled in hunger, reminding her that no food had been available for hours, it still could not quench the peacefulness she felt.

They had stopped for a moment so everyone could go make water. Weasel had finished first and was heading back towards the guys. Arya, even though she and Gendry had been naked in front of one another plenty of times, had all of a sudden felt uncomfortable with the idea. When she had told him she wanted to go off to make her water, he had not argued, but agreed with her easily. She got the feeling that his thoughts had changed on the whole naked thing as well.

As she was finishing, and pulling up her pants, she heard the shouting. "Freeze, you gutter rats! Don't move or I will cut your fucking heads off!" Arya froze on instinct, but she realized that no one was in sight of her. She heard Weasel scream and Gendry grunt in pain.

"I yield, I yield!" Hot Pie yelled.

She reached the edge of a brush right as Hot Pie was slapped to the ground. He slithered away in fear from the man that had struck him. Arya's heart almost burst through her chest as she noticed the Gold Cloaks surrounding Gendry, Weasel and Hot Pie. One of them was holding Weasel still, shaking her hard to silence her scream. Two grabbed Hot Pie from the ground, jerking him to his feet, but it was Gendry that was in the most danger at the moment.

Arya wanted to scream as she watched a man pull his fist back and punch Gendry in the face. His head snapped to one side as blood began pouring from his nose. Two men were behind him, holding him up. The third man began pounding in to him. His fist went flying back to Gendry's face. One, two, three times she watched in horror as Gendry's face took a beating. When the man was satisfied he had served his justice there, he moved to Gendry's stomach. With each punch, Arya heard Gendry gasp for breath. She had to do something and fast before they beat him to death.

She unsheathed Needle and stepped into the clearing. There were too many men for her to take on, but perhaps she could get their attention away from Gendry and hopefully he would have enough strength to fight the others. He did not look in good shape, but Arya knew he was strong.

As she took a step towards them, Gendry looked in her direction, his glazed eyes growing wide. "No," he whispered too low for her to hear, but she could read his lips. At first, she thought he was trying to stop her, for he began to fight against his attackers. The two men were surprised by Gendry's strength and almost slipped their hold, but they recovered and held him firm. The man before him did not seem to notice where Gendry's attention was, so Arya continued to inch closer, but a sound behind her halted her steps. Someone was there. She could feel them right behind her; feel them in the rising of her hair at the nape of her neck.

She turned ready to strike, but the man was faster. Something hard hit her across her temple and she fell at once to the ground. Behind her, Gendry yelled in anger. Rough hands grabbed her, bringing her to her feet, but Arya had no strength to stand. Her head began pounding, her vision all but blurred beyond recognition. At once, she felt the nausea rise in her throat, but she kept it down. Blood was pouring from the side of her head, oozing down into the collar of her shirt.

The man grabbed the back of her hair, leading her to the others. She could barely make them out, for they were just blurs in her eyes.

"Arry," Gendry yelled, using her alias. It was a sign to her to keep her mouth closed and not let them know she was a girl. They would rape her as soon as the truth was uttered, she knew. She did as he said, keeping her eyes on him the whole time, though she could not see him. Finally, the man behind her released his hold on her hair and pushed her forward. She crashed at Gendry's feet, the impact sending pain up her arms from where she tried to stop her fall. The skin was ripped off her palms by the jagged rocks underneath her. She tried not to cry out, but it fell from her lips anyway.

She could see Gendry fighting against the men holding him. What would it matter if he got loose, he could not take them all himself and she couldn't see very well at the moment? The pounding in her head was almost enough to leave her unconscious, but she feared if she fell into darkness, she wouldn't wake up.

"We will take turns with this one. If she isn't enough, we will go with the smaller boy," she heard one of the soldiers say. She knew exactly what he was speaking of and rage filled her body. They were about to rape Weasel. The girl screamed as the man holding her began to walk away.

"Wait," she said in a hoarse voice. No one heard her. Wait!" she said louder, finally getting the men's attention.

The man that had Weasel slowed and turned to see what she was saying. Gendry was standing above her, held still by three men. His pleas reached her ears, for he knew what she was about to do. There was no other way. What kind of person would she be if she sat back and watched them do what they wanted to do to Weasel? Perhaps, if she got a few away from the others she could attack. It was the only plan they had at the moment.

"You can have me," she wheezed.

The soldiers laughed at her. "What do we want with a gutter rat bastard?" the guard above her asked. For good measure, his foot made contact with her stomach, sending her face-first into the dirt.

"I-I'm a…girl," she whispered.

Gendry continued fighting against his captors, his anger rising as she spoke her words. He was not used to feeling helpless, she knew. He was used to using his hands, but this was the way it had to be. Again, she thought of what she could do if she even got one soldier away from the others. She would take them all down one at a time if need be.

"What did you say?" the soldier asked her.

Slowly, Arya raised her head to look at him, the blood from the side of her head continued to pour. "I said…I am a girl. Take me instead of the little one," she whispered.

As the soldier studied her, she glanced at Gendry. His face looked horrified, his eyes wide in fear. There is nothing you can do to help me, she wanted to say. He grabbed her roughly, standing her on her feet. She struggled against him at first, but it was no use. He glanced down her shirt, seeing what others had missed, everyone except Gendry. A smile began to grow on his face until his lips were pulled so far back from his teeth she thought the skin would rip.

"We got us a ripe one, boys," the solider laughed.

Arya was jerked forward, out of eyesight of Gendry and Hot Pie. Behind her, she could hear Gendry yelling for them to let her go, but it only landed him more punches. Weasel was sobbing when Arya passed by her. The little girl looked up at her, her eyes showing her fear. Arya tried to give her a reassuring smile, but found that she could not. The soldier holding the girl threw her back at Hot Pie. He caught her before she could hit the ground. Arya turned her head back to look at her companions. The soldier leading her did not seem to mind.

"NO! Let her go!" Gendry screamed, fighting as hard as his battered body would allow, as Arya and two of the soldiers disappeared into the forest.

Chapter 4: Give Me Water or Give Me Death

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Behind the wall of trees, Arya was shoved to the ground. She felt one of the soldiers grab the back of her shirt, shoving it upwards to reveal a good portion of her back. Arya fought against the weight of him holding her down. She grabbed a handful of grass, trying to pull herself from underneath him. Gendry's angered, and sometimes painful, screams filled her ears. For a moment, she thought she heard Hot Pie scream on her behalf as well. They could not save her from this. Their screams did nothing but cause them more pain. She could hear the other soldiers screaming at them to shut up.

She continued fighting, finding the strength to turn sideways underneath the soldier. He had been too busy unloosening his own pants to hold her down fully. If he would only let up a little bit more, she could wiggle free. If only she had Needle on her at this this moment. When the soldier had come up behind her and attacked, Needle had dropped from her hands. The sword now sat in his belt and he was back with the others.

Her hands dug into the earth, her cries to be free echoing around them. Inch by inch she began to scoot out from under the soldier. He was continuing to push his pants down his legs and talking with the other soldier. They did not see her as a threat, did not think she could get away from them. Just a little bit more, she thought as the weight of the soldier began to loosen. Her chance finally came and she took it.

Her hands clamped down in the grass and she gave one hard tug. Her small body slid easily out from underneath the soldier. The man noticed just in time to feel Arya's foot make contact with his manhood. Arya put every bit of strength she had into the kick, and when it met its target she knew the man would not be using that part of his anatomy for quite some time.

The soldier's face crumbled in pain as his mouth came open in a groan. Arya kicked him again, this time in the stomach and he fell towards the ground still holding his manhood. Arya did not waste any time scrambling to her feet. There was still one more soldier to go, and after the shock wore off, he was on her in an instant.

"You will pay for that," he spat.

Arya's eyes went wide as he unsheathed his sword. The long blade glistened under the rays of the sun. The light bounced off her face and the only thing she could think about was that she was going to die. The soldier she had just kicked was withering on the ground, a moan still on his lips. She had kicked him good, putting all her strength behind it and she knew there would be some damage, at least for a while. He was not her priority at the moment, for the second soldier came at her with his blade.

"I am going to carve you up, little girl. I'll make sure to send your head to your friends out there. I don't think the big one will like seeing your head on the end of my sword," he said smiling.

She could run, but the soldier would put a dagger in her back before she could make it to safety. He was standing in her way, no way around him, so getting to Gendry was out of the question. She needed help and fast. The soldier took another step and now his sword was in range.

Please, she prayed to the old and new gods both. Please, she prayed to Syrio, where ever he might be. Please, she prayed to her father. `

Suddenly, the ground underneath their feet began to shake. The soldier ceased his movement, listening. Arya did the same and realized she heard the sound of horses. Could it be that her prayers were heard?

"Damn it," the soldier mumbled. "Get up. They've caught up with us," he said, bending down to help his fellow soldier up. "They will want these prisoners alive and I really don't want to hear their bitching today."

The man Arya had wounded stood on shaky legs, his hands still holding his manhood. When he raised his pained face to look at her, she saw a hate, so raw, staring back at her. His lips curled into a snarl and he took a step towards Arya. She stood her ground, knowing if she had beaten him once, she could do it again. She met him eye to eye, sneer to sneer. He had dared to touch her, dared to think he could have taken her that way. She would murder him in his sleep the first chance she got, to bathe in his blood with a smile plastered to her face. He did not realize it, but he had woken the rage within her and had it not been for the blade of the sword inches from her chest, she would have clawed his very eyes out.

"You're dead, little girl," he hissed.

Not before you, she thought.

The sounds of men shouting and horses whining grew by the second. Three men on horseback came in to her view. Her hope that it would be an enemy of these men was shattered once she saw the cloaks they wore draped over their backs. They were the same Gold Cloaks as the soldiers beside her.

"Am I interrupting something?" A large man said. He was leading the other men towards them.

"No sir, not at all," the soldier holding the sword to her chest said. She could hear panic in his voice, hear uncertainty. "This one just tried to run away that's all. We had to go and fetch her."

"Her?" the man on the horse said, one eye brow rising.

"Yes sir, she's a girl."

"Yes, well I put that together when you called her 'her'," the man said flatly.

The two riders behind him sniggered. The soldier's face turned red with embarrassment, and Ayra couldn't help but feel a burst of happiness at his expense. The man, who Arya realized was the leader, stared at her with intense hazel eyes. His eyes left hers, traveling to the soldier that attacked her. He was desperately trying to stand upright, but was having some difficulty. His hands still held his manhood. The leader laughed, realizing what had happened.

"Rothe, please tell me that the bitch didn't attack you and actually win," he said with a booming laugh.

When there was no answer from the man named Rothe, the leader said, "Pathetic."

The anger grew on his face, his eyes like daggers striking Arya over and over. She knew he would be after her now, even if she made it out of this situation unscathed. He would not easily forget this offense. Next time, he would not take her so easily, she vowed.

"Take the girl back to the others. Round them all up and let's get a move on. Next time, I expect my orders to be followed, and when I say to round up all the able bodied without inflicting harm that is what I mean. Leave your cock in your pants next time, until we reach Harrenhall. Tywin wants all the laborers he can find, including that of the weaker sex."

With that, the leader turned his horse and went back the way he came. Arya could not believe he had just saved her, though he did not care two shits about her. "Move," the man with the sword growled.

Arya did not hesitate, did not have to be told twice. Her legs, which had lost much of its strength, staggered forward. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she thought to whoever was listening to her. Somehow, she had been spared the pain of rape, though she was far from danger. To prove this point, she felt the man named Rothe grab her shirt and shove her as hard as he could. She staggered forward, losing her balance and falling to the ground. The impact rattled her already sore body. Before she could recover, his hand clamped down on the back of her head, grabbing a handful of hair. With a cry of pain, he lifted her to her feet. She could feel her hair ripping, could feel him taking a good chunk.

She emerged out of the forest back onto the road with Rothe still holding her by the hair. Her eyes went straight towards her companions, searching for those blue eyes. He was there, though barely standing on his feet. Gendry's face was bloody, one eyes already beginning to swell, but the point was that he was still alive. The moment their eyes met, he began to fight against the chains that were now around his arms and legs. Weasel was holding Hot Pie's shirt tightly, but when she saw Arya she cried out. The small girl tried to run towards her, but the men stopped her, pushing her roughly back towards Hot Pie and Gendry.

Before she could reach the three, Rothe turned her roughly to face him. He had not lost any of the anger he held from earlier. He leaned in to her, as if to kiss her, but he began to sneer instead. "Know this, girl. There will never be a minute that you are safe. As soon as I get my moment, I will make you regret the day you were born."

He looked passed her, staring at something over her shoulder. A smile began to grow on his lips, though it was not a nice one. "You think you're going to save her, boy?" he whispered. Arya knew at once he was talking to Gendry. "This is what you're saving will get you," he sneered.

Before Arya could prepare herself, he reared his fist back, the hilt of his blade in hand to cause more damage, and made contact with her stomach, hard. Arya fell forward, momentarily engulfed by the pain. She could not breathe, could not think of anything but the pain radiating from foot to head. She opened her mouth wide, desperate to suck in the cool air, but her body would not cooperate with her. For one horrifying moment, she feared she would smother to death from the blow to her stomach. That is why, when Rothe's hand came slashing across her face, Arya did not even feel it. The impact was enough to knock her to the ground, but still she could not suck in the air. Her cheeks burned, but it was nothing compared to the pain her stomach. Her eyes filled with painful tears as Rothe walked away laughing.

Someone grabbed her softly by the arms, turning her towards them. Arya's face was growing red, then purple, to blue. Why could she not breathe? What had he broken within her? Is this what it feels like die? She wondered.

"Breathe, Arya. I need you to breathe," Gendry said urgently.

His one good eye was staring at her fearfully, the hands on her arms shaking. "Breathe," he whispered.

Suddenly, as if Gendry's words had called forth the air for her body, Arya opened wide and took in the most delicious breath she had ever known. She did not stop there, though. One after the other, Arya drew in a breath of life, drew in every gulp she could find. Gendry watched her, nodding his head. Her hands held the front of his shirt, squeezing the fabric in her tight fists. How scary it had been, when she felt as if she would never breathe again. How horrible a thought, her mortality had been.

As soon as she was breathing normally, Gendry jerked her towards him, crushing her to his chest. For a moment, she was back to not being able to breathe, but this time she welcomed it. Her arms slithered around his waist and squeezed. The moment he grunted, she let up a little, but never let go.

"Oh your feet," a soldier said, kicking them, though his kicks were only half-hearted. The soldier grabbed Arya's arm away from Gendry, but Gendry fought to keep hold and with a hiss of pain, he rose with them. The soldier took Arya's arms and bound her in chains, her legs followed. Hearing the sounds of the clicks, sealing her in her chains, Arya felt like a caged beast heading for slaughter.

"Back in line, the both of you," the soldier growled.

They both walked back towards Hot Pie and Weasel. When Arya came to the girl, Weasel ran towards her, slamming in to her tender stomach knocking her back against Gendry. He held his ground and held them upright. Weasel was sobbing in Arya's shirt, and she wanted to comfort the girl, but there was nothing she could say that would be any comfort. Their situation had just gone from bad to catastrophic.

"Listen up, you gutter rats!" yelled the leader. "We are marching towards Harrenhall. We have a ways to go, and the ones of you who can't keep up will die on this road. Any one of you having fantasies of escape, you too shall die a painful death. You all are the property of Tywin Lannister now, and if you so much as make my job hard…you will pay."

"Lannister," Arya whispered, dread filling her body.

With that, the large caravan of soldiers and slaves took to the hard road. Beside her, she could hear Gendry grunt with every step he took. She feared he may be in worse shape than she originally thought. She glanced over at him, his left eye completely closed. His jaw was clenched, his teeth grinding. He was holding his right side as he limped along. What if he can't make it, she thought? No, Gendry was strong, stronger than even she knew, perhaps.

"I'm fine," he ground out without looking at her. She had not said a word, but he knew what she was thinking.

"Liar," she whispered.

He turned to look at her then. His blood was caked in his hair on his left side. "Don't worry about me, Arya. Whatever happens, you make sure you get out of this alive, understand?"

Arya's heart jumped in her throat. What he had just said made it sound as if he was giving up, as if he knew he could not make it. She wouldn't accept that, couldn't accept the thought of going through this without him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Gendry! I will carry your ass if I have to, but if you give up I'm dead right along with you, so is Hot Pie and Weasel. We are in this together. You and me," Arya said desperately.

After a few moments of staring at each other, Gendry closed his one good eye and nodded once. "You and me," he whispered.

For the rest of the hours that horrible day gave them, they marched down the road. Some people around them were crying, while others were silent as the dead. Some were clinging to each other like Weasel was with Hot Pie. He held her just as tightly. Beside her, Gendry had grown unnervingly quiet. His eyes were set dead ahead, and he was staggering on his feet. Beads of sweat mixed with blood ran down the side of his face.

"Gendry," Arya called to him softly.

He did not answer her, just stared ahead of them. Her heart began to pound, for she knew what was about to happen. She saw it coming before Gendry staggered and could not stop the force of his body going forward. He dropped to one knee, crying out in pain. It was the first sound he had made in hours.

"No," Arya breathed.

The people behind him were mumbling and grumbling as they had to swerve around Gendry. He did not get up, but stayed on his knees holding his stomach. Arya hurried to him, grabbing his arm to bring him back to his feet. The murmuring grew in volume, and pretty soon Arya knew the soldiers would take notice. The moment they saw what shape Gendry was in, they would kill him for sure.

"You have to get up, Gendry, please," Arya begged him.

"Just need to rest, is all. If I could just rest I would be fine," he mumbled back.

"We will rest in a bit, I promise," Arya said urgently.

To her horror, she saw a soldier beginning to take notice. Several people bumped in to her roughly, but she could not take her fearful eyes away from the soldier, who was turning his horse around to come their way.

"Hot Pie, grab his arm…hurry!" Arya cried.

She and Hot Pie took Gendry's arms, sticking their head in between the small space his chained arms gave them. She grabbed the sides of his shirt, hoisting him up with all the strength she had. With Hot Pie helping her, they got Gendry to his feet just as the soldier made it to them. He studied them as they passed, his eyes lingering on Gendry.

"Is he sick?" he asked with disgust.

"No sir, just a little tired, but we volunteered to take some of his burden if he returned the favor later. We thought it would help us to last longer on the journey."

The lie flowed out of her so easily, and though it sounded stupid to her ears, the soldier must have bought it, for he turned his horse back around and trotted forward. Once he was out of earshot, Arya let the breath she was holding go.

"Seven Hells, that was close," Hot Pie cried softly.

"Promise me, Hot Pie. Promise me you won't let him go, even if you feel like you can't walk another step! I can't carry him on my own and he will die if we let him go!" she said.

"I got him Arya, I got him!" Hot Pie replied.

They walked on for a while longer, until the sun began to set and it sent them into darkness. When the soldiers yelled for everyone to stop, it seemed everyone dropped where they were stood. Hot Pie, who had lost all strength a while ago, fell from Gendry's arm. When he did, Arya and Gendry fell together. Her head lay on his shoulder, his chained arm still around her neck. She was breathing fast, her body aching from head to toe. Gendry was panting as well, for he still had to help them, but at least he did not have to use all his strength. She did not know how much they had helped, but he wasn't dead yet, so that was a good sign.

To their right, a beautiful sound could be heard. The sound of water running filled Arya's ears and she wanted to cry out with joy. Her mouth was so dry it felt like paper. Her throat was so parched it hurt to swallow. "Water," she whispered.

"Okay, all you sons of whores, in pairs of two you will be accompanied by one of us to go and get water from the spring. If anyone so much as tries anything, no one will get even to lick the water."

Arya and the others were towards the back of the line. Most of the other slaves had passed them when Gendry had gone down. It was well into the night when it was their turn to go. She looked at Hot Pie and Weasel, nodding her head for them to go. The boy stood up, taking the small girl's hand and leading her towards the spring.

Gendry still lay on his back. He had not moved that much, though he had talked more than before. She knew he was awake, for she could see him staring up at the sky, and every once in a while he would blink.

"Gendry, can you…" she started, but he interrupted her, "What did they do to you back there?" he asked.

He was staring intensely at her, his jaw clenched tighter than she had ever seen. "What…did…they…do," he said, elaborating each word.

His anger and emotion caught her off guard. Just hours ago, Gendry was dead on his feet, but it seemed with a few hours of rest, the fire was beginning to burn inside him again. She did her best to give him a reassuring smile, and thought she had succeeded. "They didn't do anything more than what they did to you."

He was silent for a few minutes, just staring. It was as if he was trying to look past her words, maybe looking for a lie, but finally he said, "You swear to me they didn't…" Gendry didn't finish, but Arya knew what he was trying to say.

She shook her head no, "They came close, too close, but their leader got there first. I hurt one of them pretty bad and now he's out for my blood, but at least he didn't get a chance to…you know," she answered.

"Arya, Gendry, we're back," Hot Pie stated the obvious.

Arya stood to her feet, reaching down and helping Gendry as much as she could. He was in pain, but was able to walk on his own. Though he still grunted, it seemed like less. Maybe he was telling her the truth and he just needed a few hours rest. He already looked stronger, though still badly hurt.

When they came to the spring, Arya stopped short, her eyes staring at Rothe. He was sneering at her, his yellow teeth glowing in the moon. Gendry noticed her hesitation and stopped to look at her. His eyes moved from her to the soldier. What he did next was suicide, but it just caused the soldiers to laugh. Gendry stood to his full height and stepped in front of Arya, shielding her from Rothe's angered eyes.

"Either drink or leave," Rothe spat at Gendry.

He turned around and held his hand out to Arya, letting her know she wasn't alone with the man. He was here, even if he was hurt. She took his warm hand in hers and he pulled her up beside him. They bent to their knees ready to plunge their faces in the cool water when Rothe spoke, "No…not you."

They both looked up, seeing his finger pointed straight at Arya. "You don't get any," he spat.

"She needs water!" Gendry said angrily.

"You'll stay out of, boy, if you know what's good for you!"

No one moved for what seemed like eternity. Arya's throat screamed in the need for water. It was inches away, yet it could have been all the way in Winterfell for what good it did her. She could not remember the last time she had drank anything. Fear took her over, so much so, that she thought of begging Rothe to allow her just the tip of her tongue to touch the water.

"Go ahead, Gendry. I will be fine," she whispered instead.

"Back to the road with you," Rothe said laughing.

She stood on shaky legs. The hardest thing she had to do was to turn her back on the spring. The sound of the water haunted her. The feel of being so close, yet not being able to taste of its sweetness sent her mind reeling. Her body reacted to the loss, drooping and sagging, as if she were already dying. The situation was enough to drive her mad.

Arya fell to the ground beside Hot Pie and Weasel. She was shaking with the need of a drink. It was all she could think of. She didn't need to worry about the voices in her head driving her mad, Rothe's decision to send her back without water was enough to do her in. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heart. Still, her mind screamed for water. Maybe, after everyone went to sleep, she could sneak over and grab a few gulps, consequences be damned.

A few minutes later, Gendry dropped down beside her. She could not look at him, could not see the satisfied look the water gave him in his eyes. She did not blame him for taking a drink. With his injuries, it is possible he needed it more than she, but still, it drove her crazy to think about it. She wanted to scream.

All of a sudden, Gendry grabbed her face, pulling her around to look at him. Her eyes flew open, and as she opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, he plunged his mouth on top of hers. At first, she was stunned into stillness. Again, she thought about how she had never kissed a boy before, but how could Gendry choose this moment to give her a first kiss? Her eyes were open and staring, his blue ones meeting hers. Suddenly, something touched her tongue and it sent her into a wave of euphoria.

Water streamed out of his mouth into hers. It flowed like a waterfall onto her tongue and down her parched throat. Her lips went from dry to moist in seconds, healing the chapped and broken skin. Her teeth relished the feel of the coolness. It amazed her how the water continued to flow when she thought it would stop. How had the guards not seen his cheeks bulging with the water? At the moment, Arya did not care.

She grabbed his face, holding it still and taking the water he gave her hungrily. She had never felt such a feeling before. All at once, she felt revived, felt alive. Even as the last drop fell from Gendry to her, she could not release him. He had just risked his life to save hers…again. Before she could stop herself, she licked the insides of his mouth, desperate to get the very last drop of water.

When they released each other, she noticed the way Gendry was staring at her. He looked upon her the same way he did the night they dueled. His eyes were glazed, his mouth parted. They did not say a word to each other, yet their looks said more than any words could have. With a drop of water, and the risk of his life, Arya realized, she totally and completely trusted him…just as he had asked her to do. As long as he was there, she could face anything.

Chapter 5: Their Routine Has Changed

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Gendry stayed awake long after everyone had fallen asleep. He hurt from head to toe, but nowhere as bad as his side. For a moment, he wondered if they had broken a rib or two. Though he felt his strength coming back to him, it had been a close call that day. If it hadn't been for Arya, or even Hot Pie, he would have been left for the crows and wolves. No matter how strong he thought he was, life had a way of showing him just how mortal he was. He had walked as far as his battered body could walk.

Gendry felt Arya move at his side, snuggling a little closer to him. Luckily, the nightmares had not come yet. He dreaded the moment when they appeared, for there was nowhere for Arya to go and compose herself. Everyone would see her weakened, see her scared, and that was something he did not want the soldiers seeing.

His mind went back to earlier while he was drinking from the spring. He would not allow his mind to go further past that. He could not allow himself to think about Arya being dragged inside the forest. Had he ever felt that helpless? He didn't think so. From the moment he realized she was a girl, he had asked Arya to trust him, but there he was, nowhere near being closed to helping her. He had to watch as the drug her away, watched as the unknown hit him square in the face…or was that a fist that hit him?

He felt anger rise within him and he pushed his thoughts through thinking he had let Arya down. Instead, he thought of giving her the water. Though that thought was just a dangerous as the other, he needed to deal with his feelings. It was the honest truth that he did what he did to save her, because he knew she needed water. As he gulped down the water, her face continued floating in his head. He knew he had to help her, but he didn't know how.

It wasn't until the last gulp he took, holding it to savor it, that he got the idea to carry water back in his mouth. He did not think, not in a million years, that he would get away with it, but he had to try for her. He had kept his head down, until he had no choice but to look up. That was where his shirt came in. He had picked the fabric up, holding it to his mouth as if he were wiping the water away. The soldiers around him did not give him a second look. As fast as he could, without raising suspicions, he turned and walked back to Arya. He refused to spill a drop, refused to swallow even a tiny amount. This was for her…all for her.

He had grabbed her face, crushing his lips to hers and opening his mouth slowly to let the water run down her throat. At first, she looked confused, but soon she understood what was happening. She welcomed his gift, opening her mouth wider to except the water. But when her tongue entered his mouth…

Gendry groaned softly, rubbing one hand gently down his battered face. Here was his problem. He was having a hard time remembering that he had captured her mouth with his for the sole purpose of giving her water. It had been nothing sexual, nothing other than trying to save her. Arya needed water, for it had been days. If he wouldn't have done what he did, she would not last much longer. Yet, he could not get the feel of her tongue out of his thoughts. He couldn't get the feel of her hands on the sides of his face pulling him closer.

With another groan, Gendry turned on his good side, though the movement sent spikes of pain up and down his body. Still, he had to get as far away from Arya right now as he could, which with their circumstances wasn't too far away. He could only turn his back to her, and that wasn't helping much.

She's five and ten, you idiot, he scolded himself. She's five and ten and a lord's daughter on top of that, or have you forgotten you're nothing but a bastard?

The war inside his head went on with no end in sight. He wanted to chalk these new found feeling on the fact that no one had ever trusted him the way Arya had trusted him, and in the short time they had known each other on top of that. He knew exactly what these new feeling were. He knew the night they dueled, but it was easy to ignore them. It had been hard for him to have pulled away from her that night, but he did it and was proud of himself for not kissing her. But now…oh gods help him, now…

Her tongue. Gendry shot up. The pain was immediate and he welcomed it. It was enough to wipe any thoughts of Arya from his mind. The only thing he could concentrate on was the searing pain. He slammed his eyes shut as he fought through a wave of nausea. Though he was a lot stronger than earlier, he had sat up too fast…but that was, again, okay with him.

Gendry heard crying to his left, and he looked over to see what it was. At first, he feared it was Arya trapped in a nightmare, but he realized that it was coming from the edge of the forest. What he saw made the color drain from his face, the pain forgotten.

There, surrounded by three soldiers was a young girl. She looked no older than Arya, possibly younger. She was lying on the ground as one of the soldiers took her. From the light of the moon, he could see her eyes squeezed shut, pain etched on her face. The soldiers were laughing, cheering their friend on. Gendry felt his stomach churn. His hands balled into fists as the rage soared through him. Gendry grunted as he tried to stand to his feet. What he would do against three soldiers, he wasn't sure, but he knew he couldn't just sit there as the girl was being raped. He would get himself killed he knew, but what man sat there as an innocent girl was being brutalized? Not him. Forgive me, Arya, he thought as he continued to rise.

At the moment he was almost to his feet, Arya's head raised. Through the sleep, her eyes looked up at him. At first, it was as if she did not recognize him, but suddenly her eyes went wide. She reached out, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back down, hard. He bit on his lip to keep from crying out.

"What are you doing?" Arya hissed.

"Go back to sleep," he bit back.

"Are you trying to get yourself…" she began, but suddenly the girl being raped cried out.

Arya's eye went wide and she sat up, still staring at Gendry. The moment she tried to turn around and look at what was happening, Gendry grabbed her. One hand went to her arm, while the other gently took her face and held it in place. He would not let her see what they were doing. He would not let something else fill Arya's nightmares.

"Talk to me," he said softly.

Arya's eyes were locked with his, fear seeping out of them. Her head shook back and forth in rapid succession as the girl cried out again. Gendry closed his eyes for a moment, wishing to put an end to the girl's suffering, but with Arya awake, she would follow him and get herself killed. He had no choice but to remain where he was. It made him feel less of a man with every whimper and cry the girl let slip.

"Talk to me, please, Arya," he begged. Anything to hide the girl's cries.

"About what?" Arya whispered.

"A-anything, I don't care," he answered, his eyes still slammed shut. "Tell me about Winterfell, your family, tell me anything."

"Winterfell's nice," she started. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Gendry had to strain to hear her. "I miss it terribly, including my brothers. My brother Bran was sick when I last saw him. They said he fell from a great height, but I don't believe him. He could climb better than all of us put together."

Gendry nodded his head, bowing it low so he wouldn't be pressured to open his eyes and look at the girl being raped. "Gendry, please…" Arya begged. He clenched his jaw, for he heard her need to help the girl as well. He could not chance it, could not chance Arya's life…not for anyone. He hated himself for it.

Instead, he forced her to lie down and he followed. He held on to her, fearful she would bolt upright and charge before he could stop her. Though his hold was gentle, he was ready to force his strength on her if need be.

"What do you think happened to your brother?" he asked.

Arya didn't answer at first, and he opened his eyes slowly to look at her. Her face cut him deep as he noticed self-hatred on her face. She was battling the same demons he was. Blame me, Arya, not yourself. I am the one holding us back, he thought.

"Someone pushed him," she said, her voice cracking.

The soldiers began laughing and clasping the one that had just raped the girl on the back. Gendry cut his eyes to Arya's left just to see if it was over. He soon found that it was the wrong move. Another soldier climbed on top of the girl and the raping began again.

"May he have his vengeance, then," he whispered to Arya, though he never looked away from the soldiers.

"I wish you could have met Jon. He's at the wall, and if Yoren would have stayed alive, perhaps you would have been a Ranger beside him," Arya said. This brought his attention away from the gruesome scene.

"A Night's Watchman, huh? I would have liked to have met him," Gendry said genuinely.

"You still can, possibly even meet all of my family…if you want. One day, when we get out of here, you can come to Winterfell with me. I think you would like it there," Arya said, tears springing to her eyes.

Gendry was taken aback, for he had never seen her cry. Though the tears did not fall, and once she blinked they disappeared, he had never seen Arya look more vulnerable. She should never have to cry again, he thought. He was not stupid enough to believe he could actually make that possible, but it helped to hope. No one had ever invited him home, invited him to meet their family.

"I swear to you, when we get out of this, I will come with you to Winterfell."

"You promise?" she whispered.

"I promise," he answered.

Arya closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and letting it out slowly. Had she wanted to ask him that question before now, but was afraid he would turn her down? She looked relieved.

"Thank you…for earlier, the water. I feel bad I didn't thank you sooner. You risked your life to do that. I…I just wanted you to know that I know what that could have cost you," Arya said, looking away in embarrassment.

Gendry put a finger under her chin and brought her eyes back to him. "Don't ever thank me for saving your life. It goes without thanks. You would have done the same for me. You did when you carried me for so long. They would have killed me without you."

"You and me," Arya said, a small smile on her face.

"You and me," Gendry mimicked.

As they grew quiet, Gendry realized that the girl's cries had grown silent. When he glanced over to where she had been, she was gone. All that was left was empty darkness. He let out a small breath, though it did nothing to quench the guilty feeling lying in his stomach. Instead of dwelling on his hatred, he gathered Arya to his chest. He wouldn't let her go for the world. Arya fit perfectly in his chest, laying her face in the crook of his neck. In the darkness, it seemed their routine had taken a drastic change.

The next day, they began walking again. Though Gendry wasn't one hundred percent, he felt better than this time yesterday. Even his side was beginning to feel better, which put hope in his heart that nothing was broken. He walked between Arya and Hot Pie. Weasel had climbed on Arya's back to give Hot Pie a break. So far, it had been a pretty uneventful morning, but that was all about to change.

There was a scream of anger closer to the front. The caravan came to a screeching halt as the soldiers began to yell. "Everyone, sit down!" the soldier closest to them screamed. They all did as they were told. The moment everyone was out of his way, he saw a girl remain standing. In an instance, Gendry knew it was the girl from last night. No one else would have had the rage and gall to stand up to the soldiers. Her body was shaking, yet she stared each one of them down. Six Gold Cloaks surrounded her. In her hands, she held a large stone.

"Put the stone down, girl!" one of the soldiers yelled.

She ignored the demand and kept her ground. Though Gendry knew the girl was as good as dead, he respected her courage…and her rage. An older woman, kneeling at her side, was begging her to do as the soldier said. The woman was the girl's mother, Gendry would bet on it.

"Do as she says, whore," another soldier spat. They had her boxed in now, slowly shrinking her personal space.

"Do what they say," Arya whispered beside him.

Weasel whimpered as one of the soldiers reached out and hit the girl on the back with the blunt edge of his sword. It was not hard enough to knock her to the ground. No, it was only meant to torment and tease her. The girl turned in the direction of where the slap came, giving Gendry a good view of her face.

He had been right last night. She was young, younger than Arya. He guessed she was of the age of one and ten. She stood tall for her age, long blond curls flowing down her back. Her face was heart-shaped and held all of her youthfulness for others to see. Her eyes were wide, but she was too far away for him to notice the color. Another slap came from the other side and she jerked around, her face lost from his view. She had been very beautiful, even so young.

After a few more slaps from the soldiers, the leader had finally had enough. He broke through the ring of soldiers and walked straight up to the girl. She did not so much as raise the stone in her hand, for fear had grabbed a hold of her.

"'Arya, turn Weasel around," Gendry said, never taking his eyes away from the girl.

Arya did as he said, turning Weasel around and holding the girl's head against her shoulder. The small girl cried softly. Gendry glanced over at Hot Pie. The boy's face looked green, as if he would be sick. His mouth was gaped open and sweat gathered on his brown. He was aware of what was about to happen.

"It's not cowardice to look away," Gendry whispered to where only he could hear.

Gendry's words were all he needed to hear, for he buried his head in his hands and began to sob. Gendry and Arya were the only two left watching. "You don't have to watch this, Arya," he said to her.

"Yes, I do," whispered Arya. He looked over at her, seeing her face void of any emotion. "I want to see what it will look like…when it's my turn."

He opened his mouth to tell her he would never let that happen, but the woman's scream took his attention. "Please, please spare my daughter, milord! Please!" the older woman cried. Gendry had been right in thinking the woman was her mother. She grabbed a hold of the leader's pants leg, bowing her head and begging. It was the swiftest of movements, but Gendry flinched, nonetheless. Beside him, Arya did the same.

For a moment, nothing happened. The moment came and passed and then, the woman's head and body separated. The people closest to her began to whither back, their cries soft yet just as horrifying. Gendry knew the girl would join her mother soon. As if she had heard his thoughts, she charged at the leader, the stone raised in her hand. The girl had no chance. Gendry held his breath as he watched the leader's blade slide through the front of her chest and come out her back. The girl hung there for a moment, the stone still raised above her head. Blood ran down the blade to the ground below.

The leader pulled his blade out, the sound of metal on bone caused Gendry to grit his teeth in disgust. The girl staggered for a moment, looking as if she would stay upright. Even to the very end, she fights, thought Gendry. The sword came up in the air, and the girl's head joined her mother's on the ground. The silence that followed was almost deafening. There was no movement, no words. People bowed their heads, some hiding them completely. Weasel held Arya in a deathlike grip, her small body shaking.

"Take this to heart, gutter rats! Your choices will not go unpunished! I will strike down you all if I must!" He paused, as if for good measure. "On your feet!" he finished.

Gendry reached down, helping Arya to her feet, while she still had Weasel in her arms. "I'll take her now. You need the rest," Hot Pie said, reaching for Weasel's hand. Arya handed the small girl over, looking relieved. Tears streaked down Hot Pie's face.

He saw the soldier coming a ways ahead. Glancing quickly at Arya, Gendry saw that she had not noticed. His blood began to pump faster, beating against his temple. All he could think about was the girl and her mother, think about the way the sword had sliced in to them. How was he to keep that from happening to Arya? To Weasel?

Without explanation, he grabbed Arya by the arm and swung her around him. He put her between himself and the soldier heading their way, but he knew that it would not stop them if they chose to take her. Perhaps, if they saw the way to Arya would not be easy, maybe it would stay their hand for a while longer. It did not make matters better when he saw which soldier was galloping towards them. He still had a hold of Arya's arm, and he felt her grow rigid at once.

Rothe trotted at their pace, his eyes sliding over Gendry to Arya. She did not look up, did not look over at him, even when he began calling her. Gendry kept his eyes ahead, not looking at Rothe either. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep moving. Arya's small hand found his, squeezing.

"There's an opening for a new whore, girl. Think you are up for the job," Rothe said with a laugh.

Gendry turned to him then, his eyes blazing. He and Rothe stared at each other, one smiling, while the other was blinded by rage. "I dare you, boy. I dare you to try and strike me. I would like that so much," Rothe said softly.

For a moment, Gendry thought the consequences would be worth watching the smug smile fall from Rothe's face, but Arya begged him to keep control. Instead of attacking, Gendry continued walking, turning his attention away. It's why none of them saw the hilt of Rothe's sword come down across Gendry's face.

One minute, he was walking and the next, he was on the ground, his head exploding. He could barely hear Arya calling his name, for she sounded like she was in a tunnel. He shook his head to clear the blur, and it helped a bit.

"Gendry, answer me."

Arya's voice came through clearer and Gendry felt it was safe to try and get back on his feet. He could feel the blood on the side of his face, but he didn't care. What was another patch of blood on his clothes? He had plenty already.

"I showed you, boy, what would happen if you tried to play hero! I could give you another lesson if you'd like," Rothe said.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you," Gendry whispered.

"What? What did you say to me?" Rothe said in a voice low and dangerous.

Arya grabbed his arm as he stepped towards the man. His head was throbbing and he stopped caring about anything but feeling Rothe's neck squeezing in his palms. Not even Arya's plea could cut through the madness he saw and felt.

"Enough!" said another voice. Gendry jerked his head to see the leader riding towards them. The man was looking from Rothe to Gendry. A number of his men rode behind him. This is it, thought Gendry. This is where I will die.

"Boy, step forward."

Arya refused to let him go, but he finally pried her hands from his arm. He did as the leader said and stepped forward. He waited for the sword to be drawn, waited for the final blow to come. What surprised him was that he had a deep desperation to live. He had never thought about his death, choosing to believe when the time came that there was nothing he could do about it, so why worry. Now, he was nowhere near being ready.

"I need some able-bodied men to help search for food. You look like you could be good with the sword. You sure have the balls for it to speak to my soldier like you just did."

"Sir, you let this one go and he will run off. He'll slaughter the soldier accompanying him," Rothe growled.

The leader smiled, his eyes moving towards Arya. "I think not," he said, his smile growing. "If you were not as stupid as you seem, Rothe, you would realize that we would be keeping something that means a great deal to him."

Blood drained from Gendry's face as he slowly turned to Arya. She didn't look scared. She looked more angry than anything, which was good, because he was scared enough for the both of them.

"If you so much as step one foot out of line, boy, I will cut her head clean off, understand?" the leader asked.

"Yes," Gendry said, as his eyes remained on Arya.

Gendry was dragged away from Arya, Hot Pie and Weasel. Each step that he took, felt as though he had lead in his shoes. They had him. By the gods, they had him. They were using Arya to keep him from doing anything stupid. The soldier with him looked weary, but said nothing. Without a word, they went deep into the forest.

"Let me give you some advice, boy. Rothe is not the type of man you want to make as an enemy. If he's zoned in on that girl of yours, it's best you let him have her. No sense losing your head over it," the soldier said some time later. Gendry ignored him, knowing he would never let Rothe get his hands on Arya.

They had been searching for meat for a solid hour, but were having no luck. Gendry was ready to get back, ready to check on the others. This was hopeless. Whatever sort of animals called this forest home had long been gone. For a second, Gendry wondered what had run them off.

"You hear that?" the soldier asked him. The man had stopped dead in his tracks, his head cocked to one side. Gendry hadn't heard anything, but that soon changed. It started off low, but it sounded deadly, nonetheless. He turned in circles, trying to find where it was coming from, but it seemed to be coming in every direction.

Suddenly, something huge moved in the darkness. Both Gendry and the soldier took a step back, their eyes wide. When the creature came into the light of the moon, the soldier whimpered. Gendry had never seen anything like it before. It looked like a wolf, but he had never seen a wolf grow as big as this one. It was white and grey with angry eyes.

"Direwolf," the soldier whispered in terror.

Yes, the animal had to be a direwolf, but he had never seen them in person, so he could not be sure. It spread its legs apart, growling and showing its massive teeth. Gendry stepped back again, fear taking over. He knew the look on the beast's face, knew he meant to rip them both open. The direwolf stalked towards them. The soldier grabbed Gendry, throwing him in front of his body like armor. Too afraid to fight him, Gendry stood still.

As the beast leaned in to his face, Gendry began to breathe uncontrollably. Great big puffs of air were sucked in and let out. He truly knew what it was like to be afraid, for he was staring death in the face. The direwolf's teeth were inches away from his neck. Gendry wondered if it would be painful, or would it be so fast it would feel like he fell asleep. He closed his eyes, waiting for the teeth to take its bite, Arya's face floating in his mind.

Nothing happened. Gendry opened one eye, and then half of his bad eye. He stared into the direwolf's eyes, pools of black. It was breathing hard, each time Gendry felt its breath on his cheeks. It turned its head to the side, as if trying to figure out something. Slowly, it sat down, a whine coming from its large snout. It reached its nose out, taking quick sniffs of Gendry's clothes. He stood as still as the dead. He just knew the wrong move would make the direwolf strike.

Behind him, the soldier unsheathed his sword as slowly and quietly as he could. Gendry could feel the movement behind him. He didn't know whether to let the man kill the beast, or let the beast kill the man. The soldier almost had his sword out, but at the last minute, the grinding of metal on metal sounded loud in the quiet forest. The direwolf moved its eyes from Gendry to the soldier. The growling started up immediately.

Before Gendry knew what hit him, the direwolf picked his large paw up and shoved him out of the way. He went flying, landing a good few feet away. At once, the soldier began to scream. Gendry watched a dark patch appear in the crotch of his pants. The direwolf crept closer, until he was in the soldier's face. With a loud growl, he clamped his teeth into the man's throat, slashing him from one side to the other like a ragdoll. Gendry scrambled back, watching in horror as the direwolf tore the man to pieces. Bone and muscle crumbled in the beast's mouth.

There was screaming and yelling coming from where the caravan was. Gendry could hear men running towards them. The direwolf did not seem to care as he continued to mangle the soldier. Gendry knew the man was already dead. The initial blow was enough to kill him in minutes, if not seconds.

Seven of the Gold Cloak soldiers appeared. They looked on as one of their own was ripped apart. Some of them cried out, while others just stood and stared. When the direwolf was finished, it raised its bloodstained muzzle to the other men. There were too many, no matter how powerful the beast was. With swords in their hands, at least one would draw a fatal wound.

"Go," Gendry hissed at the animal.

The direwolf turned back to him, walking slowly in his direction. Gendry cowered at the animal's feet, sure that he would be the next to die. Instead, the animal whined and took one last whiff of Gendry before turning and running off. Though its size was enormous, it glided effortlessly through the darkness. He watched it, well after it had disappeared, not quite able to believe that he had survived. For a moment, Gendry felt as if the direwolf recognized something about him, but he couldn't be sure. Its whine sounded sad, sounded as if it longed for something.

The soldiers grabbed Gendry from behind, bringing him to his feet and pushing him back towards the caravan. He went willingly, wanting to get as far away from the forest as he could. As soon as he spotted Arya standing with the leader, he went to her. Taking her hand, he began leading her back towards Hot Pie and Weasel. He did not care if they tried to stop him. He just needed to think for a minute, needed to get his thoughts under control. The leader did not stop him from taking Arya away, for he was listening to his men's story.

"What happened?" Arya asked.

"For the life of me, Arya, I have no clue. One minute, I'm staring death in the face and the next, I'm watching it take someone else," he said, scrubbing a shaking hand down his face.

"What happened?" she said again, more forcefully.

"It was huge," he said laughing, his hands going from his face to his hair.

"Gendry, you're making no sense," Arya said worriedly. She grabbed his face in both hands, bringing his eyes to look at her. She looked at him as if she thought he had lost his mind, and maybe he had.

"A direwolf, Arya," he whispered.

She stared at him without seeing him. Her head turned in the direction of where he had been when he had seen the animal. A small smile began to grow, until it grew as radiant as the sun. "Nymeria," she breathed.

"Your…" but he didn't finish. Gendry remembered the story Arya told him of her direwolf. It had been told to him before Yoren died, but at the time he thought she was making it up. He began to put two and two together and realized in an instant what had just taken place. He realized why the direwolf had spared his life, why the beast had smelled of him and whined. Arya's scent was all over him and the direwolf could smell her as well.

"Nymeria," he whispered.

Chapter 6: Take This Whip From My Hands

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"Arya."

It was the quietest of whispers, but Arya picked her head up. She looked over at Gendry, his face inches from her own. His arm was protectively around her, holding her tightly to him. His blue eyes were hidden by his closed eyelids. He was sound asleep, his breath even. He had whispered her name in his sleep.

She watched his chest rise and fall, a sign of life pouring in and out of him. His strong arms felt warm around her. Had she ever felt this protected? From the moment they had left King's Landing together, Gendry had not left her side for more than a few minutes. It was hard to think of a time where he was not there. Somehow, over the course of this whole nightmare, Gendry had become a permanent fixture in her life. Would that change one day? As soon as the thought entered her mind, she felt her stomach tense.

Arya scooted closer to him, until she was staring down at him. This had been the first time she was able to really look at him. Before this moment, before she heard her name whispered from his lips, she didn't have cause to watch him. His thick hair was growing. She wondered when the last time he had it cut was. It was the perfect deep shade of black. His bangs hung low, almost touching closed eyelids. Arya slowly reached over, brushing the strands back as softly as she could. The moment Gendry moved, Arya stilled. He moved his head a little, grunting softly.

She couldn't help but softly smile. Drinking in his defined cheekbones and the perfection of his skin, she realized just how handsome Gendry was. She had never had time for such thoughts. There had never been anyone for her to watch like she was watching Gendry. Sure, she had watched her father, Rob and Jon. All three men were quite handsome in her opinion, but they didn't count. No one outside of her family had ever held her attention. There was the butcher's son, the one the Hound had killed, but he was a friend, a playmate. Her heart squeezed at the thought of that poor boy. She blamed herself just as much as she blamed Joffrey. The boy was dead because of her.

Arya sighed deeply. That time seemed a world away now. Had it been less than a year when she had left Wenterfell? Had it been less than a year since she had seen her family…or Nymeria? At the thought of her direwolf, Arya looked into the darkened forest.

"Where are you?" she whispered.

It took all of her strength not to rise from the cold ground and go in search for Nymeria. Had the direwolf really been that close to her? Arya chuckled, thinking of how Gendry and Nymeria had finally met. She had told him so much about the direwolf. Nymeria, Arya knew, would never hurt Gendry if it was true about what they said of Starks and their direwolves. If she and Nymeria were linked, Gendry would mean a great deal to the direwolf.

She felt a pang of sadness touch her, wondering where Nymeria was right now. She wondered why the direwolf did not come to her. The last time they had seen each other filled her mind, and Arya felt like crying. She had shunned Nymeria, throwing rocks and whatever else she could find at the poor direwolf. Though she was trying to save her life, had Nymeria understood that? Or had she felt betrayed.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to the dark. "I'm so very sorry."

"Arya?"

This time, when Gendry called her name it was filled with awareness. She turned her eyes back to him, looking down where he lay. His eyes were watching her, clear and awake. "You okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded her head, lowering her head back on his shoulder. His arms squeezed her tightly for a moment. "Want to talk about it?

"Just thinking about Nymeria. I wish she would come and get us out of this mess," Arya whispered.

"No, Arya. No you don't."

She raised her face to look at him, her eyes staring in disbelief. "What? You'd rather be kept in this hell?" she hissed.

Gendry shook his head no. "What do they say about Starks, Arya? What have you told me is your family's sigil?"

"Direwolf."

"Exactly. So what do you think these men are going to think when a direwolf walks into their camp and straight towards her, protecting you, defending you? There will be no question in their minds of who you are, Arya. With so many soldiers, so many swords, they will slaughter Nymeria. Your secrets will be revealed to all," Gendry whispered.

"Nymeria could take on a dozen men, easily!" Arya shot back, anger rising in her.

"But there are two dozen men present. Arya, I want to believe that she could get us out of this, but the chances of her being killed or hurt are too great."

"You really saw her?" Arya asked softly. The tears began to well up insider her throat. Gendry nodded his head. "How…how did she look?" Her voice was as soft as Weasel's.

"You would be proud of her, Arya." She smiled then, believing his words. "She will come to you in her own time, I truly believe that. When you need her the most, she will be there. Right now, she knows you have me, so…"

Yes, Nymeria would come to her when the time was right. Right now, she belonged to the forest, until the day Arya reached out to her. That thought made Arya feel hopeful. "We will meet again," she whispered to the darkness. Somewhere, far away, she could have sworn she heard a howl.

She felt Gendry reach his hand up to her face and brush back the bangs that fell in her eyes, exactly how she had done to him earlier. Slowly, she looked back down at him, staring into his eyes. Again, she felt a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach. The silence stretched on between them. Arya had the sudden urge to run her fingers over his lips, just to feel the moisture of them again. Gendry's knuckles caressed Arya's cheek as gently as a feather, until he settled his hand underneath her ear, holding her face softly. He pulled her slowly towards him as he brought his face up to meet hers. He didn't have any water this time, so it could only mean he meant to truly kiss her. Did she want him to? Did she want to be kissed at all? The art of kissing had never been important to her. She had never given it any thought, but now that it was close at hand she found it turned her insides to jelly. Yes, yes she wanted Gendry to kiss her.

Their lips were inches apart. She could feel his breath on her face. See his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight from his slightly opened lips. His eyes never left hers. His thumb caressed her cheek, sending goose bumps up and down her arm. The sensation he was giving her, just by a single touch, was something she had not ever expected to feel.

"May I kiss you, milady?" Gendry asked, his lips twitching in a small smile.

Never had that name touched her as deeply as it did in that moment. "Yes," she whispered.

His lips were almost to hers, their noses almost touching. Her heart rate sped up, filling her body with hot, searing blood. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands, so she kept them on the ground, biting her lip at the last second. Suddenly, she felt unsure of herself. If he had asked to duel her, she would have risen to the occasion. If he would have asked her to race him to see who the better runner was, she would have gladly accepted. If he would have asked her to follow him to the ends of the world, she would have done it without thought. This, this was something that felt foreign to her. But she realized that it did not matter, because Gendry was the one wanting to kiss her.

"Get up! Everyone on your feet, now!" boomed a soldier's voice.

Both Arya and Gendry jerked their heads around, looking to see what was going on. The group of slaves began to rise to their feet. Their moment was lost completely and fear overtook them again. Arya cursed the world for reminding her that she was not free, that she was caged. The good always fades in the end, she thought.

"The women step forward! Now!" bellowed the soldier again.

Gendry grabbed Arya's arm, holding her still. The light, giddy feeling drained from her body. What were those monsters up to now? "Move!" the soldier yelled in Arya's face. When she still did not move, he grabbed her hair, ignoring Gendry completely. She was shoved forward, staggering, but she regained her balance. Something small bumped in to her, and Arya turned to see that it was Weasel. The girl's wide eyes were looking around in fear. She clung to Arya's leg, her body shaking. Gendry and Hot Pie were standing directly in front of them. They looked on helplessly, angrily.

"No…no…no…hmm, no…" three soldiers walked between the two groups. One of them was pointing towards different women, shaking his head. Arya knew what they were doing, and it made her nauseated. When the soldiers came to stop before her, Arya averted her eyes. She stared at Gendry's dirty shoes. "Just keep him in sight, Arya, just keep him in sight," she thought.

"Her," said a low, deep voice.

When Arya looked up, a finger was pointed at her stomach. She swallowed hard, wondering how in the world she would get out of this. The first time she was in this situation, she had prayed. Would the gods hear her again? Gendry moved to attack, but the soldiers had been expecting that, and they were on him in a second. This time, it took four soldiers to subdue him.

Arya steeled her nerves as the soldier walked towards her. She refused to look away, refused to cower before him. If they wanted her, she would give them a damn hard time. The soldier grabbed her arms, jerking her towards him. The moment she had her chance, she would destroy him. But what happened next caused a fear within her so strong. The soldier pushed her out of the way. She landed on her side, her hip crying out in pain. When she jerked her head back, she watched in horror as he walked slowly towards Weasel. He had not been pointing at her…but behind her.

"No!" Arya moaned.

Weasel's terror-filled eyes looked from her, to Gendry, to Hot Pie. She staggered backwards as the soldier reached out his hand to grab her. There was no thinking involved in what Arya did next. She just acted.

Raising her foot, she sent it with all the force she could muster towards the soldier's leg. The sound of the bone cracking echoed in her ear, and filled her with a power she had never known. Stunned, the soldiers were that they did not move to help their fellow soldier. They watched with wide-eyes, not believing that one of their slaves had struck a soldier. It was all the time Arya needed to pounce on the man as he lay on the ground in pain. His helmet had flown off with the impact his body had made. She thought that was a good place to start.

She felt pain in her hand the moment her fist hit flesh, but it only filled her with more power. One after the other, she began pounding into the soldier, his cries for help growing. To Arya, he was nothing but a craven. Even when she was grabbed from behind, her arms kept swinging.

They hoisted her up, as another soldier slapped her hard across the face. Blood pooled in her mouth instantly. She could not feel the anger or rage any longer. Then, another slap came…and another. They jerked her forward, leading her away from Gendry. She could hear the fight going on behind her, but they held her around the neck, so she couldn't move an inch. Arya knew she was in serious trouble. She remembered the girl and her mother, remembered the gruesome way they died. Would she meet the same fate now that she had defied them?

When they came to a stop, the leader was standing in front of her, watching her with a face she could not read. He did not look angry, nor did he look particularly welcoming. Now, her idea of attacking one of the soldiers didn't seem like the wisest decision.

"I admire your courage, young giant, though it was rather stupid what you did," the leader said. A smile grew on his face, the first sign of any emotion. "I shall not kill her, though it is what she deserves. Her strength has saved her on this night." Arya would have been lying if she said she didn't feel relieved, though his next words had her thanks stuck in her throat. "However, one does not simply attack one of my soldiers without retribution. Bring the boy."

Arya turned to where the leader was looking and watched them grab Gendry roughly by the shirt, pushing him forward. He fell to the ground, but the soldiers were there, bringing him to his feet and throwing him forward.

"Take the small girl and do with her as you please," the leader said.

They grabbed Weasel as she screamed for Hot Pie. The boy could do nothing but watch them take her into the darkness. Two soldiers stood on either side of him, holding him in place. He had no choice but to remain where he stood. He did not have courage like Gendry to fight back.

Gendry fell at Arya's feet, grunting in pain. How much more could he take? They had beaten him, spilling his blood for days. Still, he got slowly to his feet, his face determined.

"Since you enjoy a good fight, little giant, I will give you another. You hurt my soldier, I hurt one of yours. You and this boy seemed to be tied to the hip." Arya turned to look at the leader, wondering where he was going with this. "Untie her hands," he commanded. The soldiers did as they were told without question. Her wrists felt funny without the weight upon them.

A whip was sat in her hands and she let it slip through her fingers, pulling away from the object as if it were a live snake. "Pick. It. Up," the leader said softly. Arya looked at Gendry, his eyes showing what she already knew to be true. Oh gods, no, she wanted to scream! She lowered herself slowly to the ground, not breaking eye contact. She felt for the whip. As soon as her hands came across it, she wanted to recoil again. She fought through it.

"Hit him," the leader whispered.

"No!" Arya said mortified.

"You will either hit him, or we will do it for you. I can assure you, he will not live long if we are the ones to do it!" the leader spat.

She jerked back to look at Gendry, her face crumbling in agony. His face never faltered, never lost its determination. She could see his strength. It was so like Gendry to remain strong for them both. "Do it," he said softly.

"No!" she cried.

"Rothe, draw your sword and cut this bastard's head off," the leader called.

The moment Rothe moved, Arya uncoiled the whip screaming, "Okay, okay, I'll do it!"

Rothe looked at the leader and stopped when he saw the man nod his head. They turned Gendry around, his back turned to Arya. One of the soldiers drew his sword, and for a moment Arya thought they would kill him anyway. Instead, he took the blade and began cutting his shirt. The fabric tore easily, until pale skin was showing. Arya could see his muscles flexing, waiting, for what was to come.

"You will not stop, unless I tell you to stop. If I tell you to hit harder, you will do just that! If I am not satisfied, I will have him killed." Arya closed her eyes, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "Begin," the leader said.

She picked the whip up and sent it flying towards Gendry's naked back. It hit its mark, but it was easy to see the slap was half-hearted. The whip dropped back to her side as the first sign of tears flooded her eyes.

"Harder!" the leader demanded.

She picked the whip back up, sending it reeling towards Gendry again. This time, he lurched forward into the arms of a waiting soldier. She heard his loud groan and it pierced her heart.

"Harder!" the leader screamed.

"I'm so sorry!" Arya cried.

Her arm came back, the whip ready and in position, and she sent it crashing down upon Gendry's back as hard as she could. He lurched forward again, this time his groan was louder.

"Yes, yes just like that. Keep going, small giant."

A list of names began to grow in her mind. This list comprised of people that Arya would make sure died a slow, painful death. With each blow Gendry took, her list grew. With each name there was a face, with each face there was hatred. With the rising of Gendry's gasps and groans, Arya allowed the hate to fill her. It was the only way she could have gotten through what they were making her do. It was the only way she could look at the bloody back in front of her and send the whip whistling towards it.

The people watching were crying and gasping right along with Gendry. She even began to feel hot, searing tears pour down her cheeks. It was the first time she had cried since she could remember. When Gendry fell to his knees, the soldiers were there to pick him right back up.

After what seemed like the hundredth hit, the leader stopped her. "If you ever attack one of my soldiers again, I will kill you and your gutter rat friends! This was your only warning, small giant," he whispered in her ear. The whip was taken from her shaking hands, and the chains were put back in place.

They escorted her and Gendry back to Hot Pie. Arya did not know how he was still on his feet, but he pressed on, never faltering. His back was bleeding from the welts. For the first time in her life, she thanked the gods she was a girl. If it would have been a man to beat him, Gendry would have been unable to move afterwards.

When they were seated again, Arya moved hesitantly towards Gendry. Did he hate her now? She had caused this, just as she had caused the butcher's boy's death. Her hand reached out to him, but she stopped as he looked up at her. Tears were streaming down his dirty face, pain shown from his eyes.

"Gendry, please…" she began, but he stopped her. "You and me," he whispered.

She crumbled then, crumbled in relief and horror and devastation. She reached out, grabbing his face in her hands and laying her forehead upon his. She had just beaten him to a bloody pulp, yet he was still the same old Gendry…her Gendry.

Arya felt a hand touch her arm and both her and Gendry turned to look. Sitting beside Hot Pie was Weasel. Though she looked terrified, she looked unharmed. Arya looked to Hot Pie for answers. "They brought her back while you were…they said she was too young, no fun in it. They took someone else." She reached her hand out to the young girl, who had somehow wormed her way into Arya's cold heart. Weasel took it, smiling faintly.

For the rest of the night, Arya cleaned the welts on Gendry's back. One of the soldiers had brought her fabrics dripping with clean water. He looked at her without a word, nodding his head. She took them without thanks. She would never thank these monsters for anything.

The next day, they journeyed forward. Arya watched Gendry out of the corner of her eye, waiting to catch him if he needed her to. But he never did. Something loomed before them, but it was Hot Pie who spoke their question.

"What is that?" he asked low.

Arya stared at the structures before them, both hideous and fascinating all at once.

"Harrenhall," Gendry replied.

Chapter 7: The Rats in the Bucket

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

The moment they walked into the gates of Harrenhall, Gendry stopped. His head rose towards the sky, drinking in the enormous structures before him. It was set against the backdrop of a red sky, making it look as though fire was shooting down upon the black stones. The tops of some of the structures were melted away like candle wax dripping down. He had never seen anything like it. Immediately, he felt the hairs on the back of his head stand on end. He could feel the darkness, as if it were reaching out to him. This place was cursed.

Arya was the only one to continue walking. Her head was stretched back, staring up to the very tips of the melted stone. Her eyes looked mesmerized. Hot Pie and Weasel stood at his side, too afraid to continue walking like him…but not Arya. She drank in the vastness before them.

"Dragons," he heard her whisper.

"Dragons?" Weasel whimpered.

Gendry laid his chained hand on the girl's shoulder, squeezing gently. "No, Weasel. There's no dragon's here. They've been dead for centuries."

The girl looked relieved, but he could still see fear on her face. She averted her eyes from the melted structure, looking at Hot Pie instead. The boy looked back, trying his hardest to smile. "Come on," he said gently to her.

Hot Pie and Weasel got back in line, following the other prisoners into Harrenhall. Gendry waited for Arya, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes remained fixed towards the sky. He thought about calling to her, but was grabbed roughly from behind. Before him stood the man that had brought Arya the wet fabrics to clean his welts with. In his hands, he held a shirt. Two soldiers stood on Gendry's side as the man released him from his chains.

"Put this on, boy," the man said.

The stench of death lingered on the black shirt as he pulled it over his head. He realized that the person who had worn this shirt before him had met a gruesome death. Their blood was still soaked to the front of the black shirt. For a brief moment, he thought about refusing, but he did not want to suffer another beating. Throughout his life, he had built his body up to be solid muscle and strength, but he knew he had limits like everyone else. He gritted his teeth, until he got used to the smell. After his hands were chained again, he was pushed forward.

"Arya," he called out. She was still staring and didn't see the soldier come up behind her. He grabbed her roughly, throwing her forward. When she straightened up, Gendry saw her face, and what he saw scared him. She was smiling, but not happily. No, that was a smile someone smiled when their sanity was on the brink of dissolving. He would have to keep a closer eye on her.

They were herded into cells that looked like animal stalls. For a moment, the people before him turned into pigs heading for slaughter. He felt a shiver creep up his spine and slither towards the base of his skull. Suddenly, the sound of screams filled his ears. He looked in front of him and saw a man seated. On his chest he wore a barrel. His eyes were so wide that for a moment Gendry expected his eyeballs to roll from their sockets. His body was twitching, his mouth open and screaming.

The man's wide eyes looked back and forth at the two men who were inches away from him. One of them was standing, while the other sat. The one sitting held torch in his hands. The flames were licking at the barrel on the man's chest. Inside, the sounds of screeching could be heard.

"Rats! Seven Hells, they're eating him alive," someone moaned beside Gendry.

He felt the bile rise from his stomach, heading towards his throat. He clamped his eyes shut, breathing out of his nose. In and out, he took in air as slowly and deeply as he could. The stench from his shirt wasn't helping matters any. He was going to be sick, he just knew it. The man's screams rose in volume, so loud his ears were ringing.

"Make him stop," he whispered to whatever gods would listen.

He felt something grab a hold of the side of his shirt and he looked over to see Arya standing beside him. Her chained hands were squeezing the fabric. They were shaking. Gone, was the fascination from her face. Gone, was the smile. Instead, she looked at the man being tortured with horror. He turned, standing before her and blocking out the scene. There was nothing he could do about the screams, but at least he could stop her from watching.

Her eyes stared at his chest, slowly rising to his face. For however long the man sat there, being eaten by the rats, they never looked away from one another.

"That was my son," a woman said. "My sister was three days ago. My husband before that."

"They take someone every day? Gendry asked without looking away from Arya. He already knew the answer and needed no confirmation. When he had seen the people herded into the stalls looking like pigs for slaughter, it was because that's exactly what they were. They were dead animals.

"Does anyone live?" Arya asked. The woman never answered, but stared at her dead son with unseeing eyes. Weasel pushed herself further in to Hot Pie's side, tears beginning to show in her eyes. Hot Pie stared away from the dead man, his face growing scared by the minute.

The man that held the torch drew his sword, cutting the poor bastard's head clean off. Gendry never saw it, but he knew the sound well by now. He saw the shutter that went through the woman's body as she watched what they did to her son.

"Move aside! Get out of my way!"

Gendry looked over Arya's shoulder and saw Rothe heading towards them. He grabbed at Arya, but the soldiers with Rothe were faster. He was grabbed on each side and dragged away from her. He dragged his feet, trying to stop them from taking him. It did no good. Arya jerked around right as Rothe came up to her. The slaves in the stall all scattered to get away from the man, but Arya didn't move a muscle. Gendry wished he could see her face, but her back was turned to him.

"Got to go for a little while, love," the man breathed, reaching out and caressing Arya's face.

Gendry felt the blood go to his face immediately, felt the rage awaken. That man should never be allowed to touch her like that. Not the way he gets to touch her. He fought against the hands holding him, but they did not budge. He was forced to watch. Forced to watch whatever Rothe had planned in his sick mind.

Rothe stepped closer to Arya, shadowing her in his large body. His hands shot up, grabbing Arya by the chin. On instinct, she reached up to throw his hands off of her, but he grabbed her chains, bringing them down to his crotch. He held them firmly to him, stopping any movement they could make towards his cock. Gendry could see Arya wasn't able to inflict any harm. Finally, he heard her whimper.

"I will be back and when I do, you and I will finish what we started out in those woods." Arya fought against him, but it only made him laugh. "I like a fighter," he whispered, taking her mouth with his. When Arya tried to step back, his arm snaked around her, bringing her closer to him. His mouth was rough and hungry, his tongue shooting out for entrance to Ayra's mouth.

Gendry's mind exploded with fury and jealously. He kicked, bucked, whatever he had to do to reach her. He felt a blow to his stomach, but it did nothing to stop his fighting. He barely felt it. Two more soldiers stepped up just as Gendry got loose from his captives. One step, then two and suddenly, he had Rothe by the throat, pushing him away from Arya. Arya stumbled back and Rothe was in plain sight of Gendry's fury. His fists flew back, ready to strike its target, but the soldiers were on him, pulling him off of Rothe. He never got in one single lick.

They held him still as Rothe began to cough and wheeze. His face had turned beet red. His blazing eyes turned slowly towards Gendry, a cruel smile growing on his face. Once Rothe's breaths were even, he walked up, getting right in his face. His hand shot out, grabbing Gendry's hair and pulling his head back. He grunted against the pain as he stared up at the reddened sky.

"I'm going to enjoying fucking her. And just for the fun of it, you will watch," Rothe whispered.

"You won't touch her," Gendry growled.

Rothe laughed at this, letting go of his hair. He took one last look at Arya, a smile on his face, before he strode off. "I do not want the boy killed. Release him. I have plans for him later," Rothe called over his shoulder. The soldiers threw Gendry behind them.

Arya was there in a heartbeat, grabbing him in a tight hug. She was shaking and he realized she must have thought they would surly kill him for attacking Rothe. No, the man had something in mind that was worse than death. "I'm fine," he whispered.

The first night, they took a little boy, just a few years older than Weasel. They strapped the barrel on his chest and began asking him questions, questions that didn't make sense to Gendry. The spoke of some Brotherhood, some man's name he had never heard of before. He leaned his head against a wooden pole behind him. He and Arya were chained to it together. Her head was in his lap, but he knew she wasn't asleep. There was no way anyone could sleep with the boy screaming for his mother, and the mother weeping for her son.

The next day, it was the same thing. This time, they took an old woman, well into her sixties, and strapped her to the chair. The man that had chosen her was staring at what was happening, his face smiling. He had to be the tallest man Gendry had ever seen. He had heard Arya call him The Mountain, and he realized that name was familiar for some reason. He had heard it somewhere, probably in King's Landing. The Mountain turned his black eyes on Gendry, his smile growing. His finger reached to his neck and he began sliding it from one side to the other, as if cutting his own neck. Gendry just blinked at him and looked away. He didn't think anything could scare him anymore.

The third day, another was taken, another was killed. The Mountain had chosen a girl, about Arya's age. She began screaming the moment his finger pointed towards her. She began begging, began promising things…promising her body to The Mountain. He looked at the girl in disgust, nodding his head to the two men that did his dirty work. The girl only lasted minutes after the rats began eating away at her chest. Gendry wished they would die in silence. He wished for the screams to not come. For one horrifying moment, he felt as though he was losing his mind. The girl's scream was the worst, for he could almost imagine that being Arya in the chair. He did not realize his eyes were clenched shut. He did not realize he was shaking, until he felt Arya's hand slide in to his. Gendry looked down at her, holding her hand as if his life depended on it. Her huge eyes were looking up at him, reassuring him that she was unharmed.

The fourth night, they had chosen a boy that told Hot Pie to stare at the Mountain, for it was what had saved him this long. The boy never saw it coming when The Mountain stretched out his huge hand and pointed it at his chest. Hot Pie wet himself, seeing how stupid he had been for listening to the dead boy, because he had stared The Mountain in the face just like the boy. The boy's head now rested on a pike above them. All night long, Arya began to recite names, repeating them over and over. "Rothe, the leader, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound." Gendry listened, feeling dread seep into his bones. It sounded like a prayer, but he knew it spoke of death. He knew it was a hit list.

The fifth day was the same, and so was the sixth, but by that night, Gendry was out of his mind. The screams, the cries, the pleas, they all ate away at him a little at a time. What drew him over the edge was Arya's prayer. He felt her pulling away, falling into a blackened abyss. In the light of the sun, she did not speak. He would watch her stare into space, her face void of emotion. He would try to talk to her, but would get no response. He could not tell what she was thinking and when he asked, she would say nothing. But at night, she would recite her names. It was driving him mad and he lost his cool.

"Stop it," he whispered. "Stop it!"

She acted as though she did not hear him and her prayer continued. "Stop it…Arya," he said through gritted teeth.

"Rothe, the leader, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound," was her answer.

He grabbed her roughly, jerking her to a sitting position. His fingernails dug into her arms causing her to wince. Finally, her prayer had stopped. She stared at him, her eyes dead. He was angry, furious, but he knew it was not because of her. "Arya," he whispered in defeat.

She did not answer him, but looked straight through him. He was losing her. Slowly, he touched her forehead with his lips, shutting his eyes tightly. "I'm losing it, Arya. I need you to come back to me…please," he whispered against her skin. Nothing happened at first, and Gendry thought it was hopeless. Was Arya already lost to him? He felt her shift and her chained arms came around his neck, holding him tightly.

"I'm here, Gendry," she whispered.

He let out a deep sigh, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her voice was clear and strong. It calmed the raging insanity in his mind. "Don't leave me again," he said.

On the seventh day, The Mountain strode over to the frightened group. Gendry lowered his head, waiting for the next victim to be chosen. "You!" The Mountain hissed.

Without looking, Gendry could feel all eyes turn towards him. His head shot up, seeing The Mountain's finger pointed at him. No, no, no, no, no, he thought. His eyes looked to Arya. She was staring at him, frozen. The soldiers pushed her out of the way and grabbed Gendry. They unchained him from the pole and jerked him forward. He would not scream. He would not plead. They could torture him till nothing was left and he wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

They threw him in the chair, binding his hands and feet. His eyes moved to Arya, and stayed on her the whole time, even as the questions began.

"Is there gold and silver in the villiage?" the man they called Tickler asked.

"I'm not from the villiage," Gendry responded, staring at Arya.

"Where is the Brotherhood?"

The Brotherhood. The Brotherhood, always about the damned Brotherhood, Gendry thought. His heart was beating at his chest, his breath coming out in puffs. "I don't know what that is," he said, fear in his voice. Tickler turned to the other man, nodding his head. Gendry finally looked away from Arya to see the man pick up a large rat, throwing it into the barrel. It was enough to make Gendry want to scream, but he bit the insides of his mouth instead. His eyes traveled back to Arya, wishing she would look away and not watch. Though her eyes were a comfort to him, he did not want this to be the last thing she remembered of him.

The man came at him with the barrel, and Gendry began puffing out large breaths, holding his chin up in the air. This was it. This would be how he would die, by the mouth of a rat. The man picked his shirt up, forcing the barrel to his chest. In an instant he felt the rat bump in to him, trying to get out. He grunted, biting down harder on the inside of his cheek. I will not scream, I will not scream, he chanted to himself.

Gendry turned to Hot Pie, seeing the boy staring in horror. "Take care of them," he said, his voice cracking. Tickler picked up the torch, turning to walk towards Gendry. He tried the binds on his hands and feet to see if they were weak, but they held their hold. The rat was screaming, running in to his chest over and over again. The flame came down to the barrel.

"No!" Arya shouted.

Just then, the sound of riders surrounded them. Tickler withdrew the flame and the rat ran into the end of the barrel and away from Gendry. Everyone began to bow, everyone except Arya. She remained standing, her eyes only on him. He held her stare, wondering if it was possible that they had been lucky again.

A man climbed from his horse, staring at the people in the stall. Gendry knew him at once. This man was Tywin Lannister. The Mountain greeted him and the man wanted to know why they weren't in their cells. When he was given the explanation, he didn't look happy.

"Are we so well manned that we couldn't use able-bodied workers?" Lannister asked. No one answered him. "You. Do you have a trade?" the man asked Gendry. "Smith, milord."

He turned to the Tickler, as if he should have already known this. "Get these prisoners to work." Gendry watched Lannister walk away, wanting to thank the man for saving his life. That is, until he stopped and stared at Arya. He did not speak at first, but only stared. Gendry was so caught up in what was happening that he did not realize they had released him.

"This one's a girl, dressed as a boy…why?" he asked Arya.

"Safer to travel, milord," she answered.

Lannister looked at her, impressed. "Smart! Which is more than I can say for this lot," Lannister said, pointing to his soldiers.

He turned and walked away, but when the soldiers did not move to release them, he stopped. "Release them, now!" he screamed. "And bring the girl. I need a new cupbearer."

"No," Gendry whispered as he was hoisted from the chair. The soldiers grabbed Arya, whisking her away. She turned her head, watching him, until she disappeared from sight.

They sent him to work right away, forging new weapons and armor. The days passed and he had not laid eyes on Arya since the day he was almost tortured. He had looked for her everywhere, asked everyone, but he found that they had her locked up in Lannister's main rooms until bedtime. Then, she was taken to the holding cell for the women. He was going out of his mind with worry.

"She's okay, Gendry. Weasel told me this morning," Hot Pie said. The boy had come by to see him for a moment before heading to the kitchens. Gendry was forging a sword into existence, or beating it was more like it. His anger shot out of him and he continued to hammer in to the anvil. Sparks flew around him, but he didn't seem to notice. "Weasel says when she sleeps, she calls out for you. I'm sure that she will come to you when she can. Lannister is keeping her busy."

Hot Pie was trying to help, Gendry knew that, but the more the boy talked, the worse he hit into the sword. This was the longest he had been away from her and it was killing him. So much so, that he dared think of bursting into Lannister's quarters just to look upon her face. The only thing holding him back was the fear of her getting in trouble for his stupidity.

"How's Weasel?" Gendry asked, trying to change the subject.

Hot Pie sighed. "She's okay, still scared to death, but she says this place isn't so bad now. I get to keep an eye on her since she works in the kitchen with me." Gendry envied Hot Pie. "How can you stand it in here? It's so hot!" Hot Pie said, fanning his flushed face.

"Used to it," Gendry said, brooding. In all honesty, this place felt like the Seven Hells themselves. Most of the time, he worked shirtless just to be able to breathe. His skin was blackened and streaked with sweat, but it was much cooler than wearing the black shirt.

A little time passed by and Gendry forgot that Hot Pie was there, until he spoke softly, "I would have done it, you know.

Gendry stopped beating the sword and looked up at the boy in confusion. "What?"

Hot Pie's face looked sad. He climbed down off the stone he was sitting on and headed to the exit. Before he left, he turned to Gendry.

"I would have taken care of them like you asked."

Chapter 8: The Girl and Her Name Day

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Her foot made contact with the wall and she swallowed a scream. Her hands rested above her head as she tried to get her anger under control. Why was she allowing them to have this power over her? Why was she allowing him to have control over her like he was? The way he spoke of Rob, the things he said, had Arya planning a slow, painful death for Tywin Lannister. He had the audacity to ask her what she thought of her own brother! Yes, he didn't know exactly to whom he was speaking, but it did not make the anger any less palpable. Then, on top of all that, she allowed him to see her anger, her fury. They had stared at one another, the evident threat hanging before them. She had threatened him and he had noticed. What would he do now? Would he punish her, or act as though nothing happened?

Arya turned, leaning her back on the wall and sliding down. "Come on, Arya. Hold it together. You have more than yourself to think about here," she whispered.

After several long breaths, she rose from the floor. Lannister had allowed her leave, and she wanted nothing more than to find Gendry. It had been almost a week and all that she had of him was a passing glance. Arya got the feeling these people were separating them on purpose. If Lannister didn't keep her busy, she had other chores to get done. But now, she was free.

Arya marched down the stoned steps that she had cleaned twice in the past three days. By the looks of them, she would be cleaning them again soon. She couldn't stop thinking about what Lannister had said about Rob. The people of the North had crowned him king. Her Rob was king now. He was a king and a warrior, which the latter scared her terribly. Obviously, he had done a good amount of damage to the Lannisters if the lord's anger was anything to go by.

"Kill them all, Rob. Kill them all," she whispered.

A shadow overtook her and Arya stopped with a gasp. She slowly raised her head up, expecting one of Lannister's men to be standing there. The face that peered back at her scared her more than any of those men could. She did not show it, but she felt it just the same. He was taller than she remembered, though he was locked up in a cage the entire time she could remember. He was watching her, a small smile playing on his lips. She thought about screaming, but chose to remain silent instead. Arya looked around to see if anyone was close, but she found that it was just her and this man.

"The boy has turned into a girl," his soft voice spoke.

Arya picked her chin up, glaring at the man. "I've always been a girl," she ground out.

He nodded his head, "Of this, I was always aware."

Arya was taken aback. He knew the whole time she was a girl? What did he tell her his name was? Jaq something. Jaqen H'ghar, that's it. She tried to pass him, but he slid easily in her way. With a growl of anger, she looked up at him again. "What do you want?"

"She still has more courage than brains," Jaquen H'ghar whispered.

Arya turned and began walking back up the steps. She would hide in a dark corner until the man left. If she had to, she would scream until someone showed up to help her. She remembered Yoren telling her to be wary of the three men in the cage. Why she had saved their lives, she did not know. Seeing him now, Arya wished she would have let him burn.

"You stole three lives from the Red God, girl. These three lives must be paid for. If this girl shall name three names of her own, the gods will be satisfied. If the girl should just whisper her names, the man will do the rest."

Arya froze, her eyes growing wide. The moment his words died in the air, her prayer filled her mind. Slowly, she turned back to him. He was standing in place, not moving a muscle. His eyes held her, filling her with power, intensity. She forgot where she was, forgot what she should be doing at the moment. All that matter was Jaquen H'ghar and what he had just said. Could this be a trap? Was he setting her up for something? If she named three names, men who would die at her request, would he run and tell Lannister of what she had done?

She stepped down one step, and then another, and then another. Soon, she found herself stepping in front of Jaquen H'ghar. Arya wondered what she was doing, wondered if she was the kind of person that would sentence someone to death just by a whisper. If this was real, and he meant what he said, Arya could choose anyone. Something about that thought caused her head to swim. Power surged through her. She held these monsters' lives in her hand.

"I can choose anyone?" she whispered.

"The girl only needs to whisper a name, and I will deliver your payment to the gods with ease."

Arya swallowed hard. Would this change her, knowing she destroyed life? Jaquen H'ghar reached his hand out slowly, touching the side of her face with his knuckles. She did not move away, for she did not fear him. It was the lightest of touches, but it made Arya feel funny. She felt power in his touch, felt possibilities too numerous to count. The hand that touched her so softly would be her deadly weapon if she wanted it.

"The girl has no idea what things could await her, the roads this girl could choose for herself. The path is laid out before this girl, but she doesn't see it. You have enough courage, so all you need is to be shown is that you are capable of doing what must be done."

"Capable of murder?" she whispered.

"Capable of vengeance," he corrected.

Arya breathed slowly, her eyes closing on their own. Vengeance, the word tasted sweet on her tongue when she whispered it. All of the faces she wanted to burn played through her mind in a jumbled mess, but slowly they began to slow.

"Rothe, the leader, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound," she said, a smile beginning to grow.

"Rothe, the leader, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound…whomever the girl choses, Jaquen H'ghar will do the rest.

Arya felt herself lean in to his touch, her smile growing wider by the second. It lasted only a moment before Gendry's face filled her mind. What would he say? What would he do if she told him she was going to have three people killed? Yes, they deserved it, but would he agree? Her smile faded as quickly as it began. Jaquen H'ghar saw this, bowing his head slightly.

"The gods never said payment would be easy, but it must be done. Hatred is a powerful thing for the girl to grab a hold of. It will get her through this," he breathed.

"Arya?"

She immediately jumped back from Jaquen H'ghar as a familiar voice called to her. Gendry was looking from her to Jaquen H'ghar, anger evident on his face. She wasn't sure if he recognized the man or not.

"The girl must think on it. I will expect a reply soon. Remember, it takes only a whisper to bring down a mighty giant," he whispered, touching her face again. She heard Gendry's sharp intake of breath, felt his eyes boring in to her. Arya stepped out of Jaquen H'ghar's touch and walked towards Gendry. When she reached him, he took her arm and guided her away. He was cursing under his breath, his teeth bared.

He led her to where he was working now. The air was thick and hot. At once, Arya began to sweat. How did he handle the heat? Gendry walked away from her to his work bench and began firing up his forge. He was furious, she knew. The question was, was he furious at her? She needed to say something, but she wasn't sure what to say. He beat on his sword like it had done a great injustice to him. Arya found herself feeling sorry for the inanimate object.

"What did he want?" Gendry said through clenched teeth. "That was the man you went back and saved wasn't it? You should have let him fry." With each question, Gendry's hammer drove into the anvil causing sparks to fly out. One touched his shoulder, but he acted as though he didn't feel it. Yes, Gendry was furious. "What did he want?" Gendry asked more forcefully.

"None of your business!" Arya said before thinking.

The hammer hung in the air as Gendry raised his face towards hers. "You are my business," he said low.

Arya huffed, "We haven't seen each other in weeks. You want to fight or enjoy the moment we have?"

For a moment, Gendry didn't respond. Slowly, as the seconds passed, his anger dissolved. "Arya, that man is dangerous. Remember what I told you on the road? It's wiser to fear him that be his friend."

You have no idea, Arya thought. "So, what are you doing?" she asked, just to change the subject. It was then, when she really saw what he was doing, she saw that his shirt had been removed. What greeted her eyes was muscle upon muscle. Yes, she had seen him shirtless before, but that was before he showed interest in kissing her. Yes, she had cleaned the wounds on his back, but it had been dark and she had been scared to death for him. Now, she had no excuse to miss the way his biceps moved when he raised the hammer above his head. She had no excuse not to see the way his abs moved underneath his skin, the way the sweat began to run down his chest. It was easy to see the drops of sweat running down the sides of his chiseled jaw. Arya needed something to do, something that would keep her mouth from hanging open. She needed something to keep her hands busy and her teeth from biting her lips as she stared openly at Gendry's naked chest.

Beside her was a piece of bread. She grabbed it and began stuffing large pieces into her mouth. Yes, this was helping, because she had to force herself to concentrate on chewing. Still, her eye roamed over to him, watching him…wanting him?

"That's my bread," Gendry said without looking up.

Arya almost chocked on the piece in her mouth. He looked up at her, smiling gently. Her stomach did a flip that rolled from her feet to her head. Like an idiot, she just stared at him. "You can have it, since you're eating it like you haven't eaten anything in days," he said frowning. She forced the piece of bread down her parched throat, watching a line of sweat run from his neck, down his chest, to disappear past his black pants. She swallowed with a loud gulp.

"Arya?" Gendry called worriedly.

"Sorry, can I have it?" Arya said as her voice cracked. "The bread?"

"Yeah," Gendry said, still looking at her funny.

She held the bread up to her mouth, nibbling on the ends. What the Seven Hells is happening to me, she thought. As the time passed, Arya took quick looks over at Gendry, and each looked caused her stomach to roll, flip, stumble and ache. How had she not seen how beautiful he was? Why was she just noticing this now?

"Is something wrong?" Gendry asked. He looked at her as the hammer came down on the sword. She was staring straight at the soft, black hairs on his chest and she diverted her eyes away. "No," she breathed.

Gendry picked the sword up and dipped it into the bucket of water beside him. It sizzled and the sound caused her heart to race. She wondered if she would sizzle if Gendry touched her. The thought made Arya groan inwardly. She bit off another piece of his bread and chewed, brooding. He began to swing the sword back and forth. No, he's doing it all wrong, she thought.

"You should stand sideface," she said, her mouth full of bread.

"Sideface?" Gendry asked, his face showing his confusion. "Sideways," she clarified.

He looked at her then, the confusion still on his face. "Why?"

"Smaller target," she said, her shoulders shrugging.

Gendry looked around him, turned and looked behind him. "Am I fighting someone?" he asked.

"You're practicing for a fight, so you should do it right," she answered, climbing from the stone she was sitting on. She walked towards him, and he lowered the blade as she drew near. This was not the best idea she had ever had, for it did little to clear her foggy mind. "Like this," she said softly.

Arya grabbed Gendry by the waist, her hands resting on the top of his black pants. She gulped for breath, for she could feel his muscles moving underneath her palms. She could feel the slickness of his skin. His breath fanned her face, and she could see the pulsing of his heart in his neck. She turned him around in the right position. "Sideways," she whispered.

His blue eyes were boring in to her, through her. He was so close to her that she could now see the beads of sweat on his brow. She could see his thick, black hair plastered to his head, as if he had just stepped out of a bath. "Sideways," he whispered back.

She was supposed to let him go then, for he was now in the right position, but it seemed her hands were not working properly. What made it worse is that Gendry took a step towards her, cutting the space between them. The heat from his body rolled around her like mist. He licked his lips, moving ever so slowly towards her. This was it. He was finally going to kiss her. So why was it that at that exact moment Rothe's face came into her mind? She remembered the way his mouth had taken her, the way his rough skin rubbed her raw. She remembered the way his tongue had forced itself into her mouth and she recoiled away from Gendry. Staggering back, she turned to look away from him. Arya was breathing hard, desperate to get the image out of her mind.

"Arya? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his hand reaching for her arm.

She felt stupid and childish. She felt mortified and sick to her stomach. The first time someone had actually chosen to kiss her, it had been so horrible that she wanted to scrape it from her mind. Yes, Gendry had touched his lips to hers, but it hadn't been a real kiss. He was doing it to save her life. Rothe had come along and ruined everything for her.

"Please talk to me," Gendry said.

"Is that what it's like, to kiss someone the way Rothe kissed me? Is that what it's supposed to feel like?" she asked in a small voice.

Gendry gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her towards him. His face looked both angry and sad at the same time. "No, Arya, there was nothing he did to you that remotely resembled a kiss."

"It's all I have to go on," she whispered.

Gendry reached down, grabbing her hands in his and raising them up. Arya wondered what he was doing, but she didn't have to wonder long, for he laid her palms on his massive shoulders. "The first thing to a kiss is to hold the person close…like this," he breathed. His massive arm came around her waist, engulfing her with his heat. He used his other hand to gently take her face in his palm, rubbing his thumb up and down her cheek. "You look into her eyes and make her feel that she is the only woman in the world." His blue eyes ignited a flame within her so strong she thought she would die. "You tell her how beautiful she is, how no one compares."

He stepped even closer. Now, there was no space between them. He held her to him, their faces inches from each other. Her hands began to shake and it caused Gendry to freeze his movements. "You assure her that she will never get hurt. You tell her that nothing in the world means more to you than her life." The shaking in her hands ceased. She grabbed his shoulders firmly, running one hand up to hold his thick neck.

"And if all that fails, you tell her how much you love her," he whispered. Gendry inched closer to Arya, and she followed his movements. His body was so tense underneath her hands. She felt a shutter run through him. She had caused that. The thought made her mind explode in wonder that she could make someone as strong as Gendry shutter. "And then…you kiss her."

"Gendry...Gendry!"

Arya tore away from his arms, her eyes growing wide at the person intruding in their moment. Hot Pie and Weasel stood there gaping. Their eyes moved from Gendry to Arya, not a word spoken. She could feel his rage before he ever opened his mouth.

"Come on! Are you serious?" Gendry yelled. He threw his arms in the air and turned away from Hot Pie and Weasel. Weasel's eyes filled with tears at Gendry's outburst. Though Arya wasn't happy herself, she felt for the little girl. She turned and ran away. Gendry saw her. "We-Weasel, come back!" he yelled, exasperated.

"I'll go get her," Arya said, knowing the moment, again, had passed.

Gendry looked at her with a longing she had never seen him have before. She had to force her feet to move, force herself to walk away from him. As she got to Hot Pie, he looked so embarrassed. "You are damned lucky I don't have Needle at the moment," she said as she passed.

She searched everywhere for the little girl and finally found her hiding at the top of some darkened stairs. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, and Arya could hear that she was crying. She sat down beside the girl, waiting for her to calm.

"I-I just wanted to-to tell him," Weasel whimpered.

She grabbed the girl's head gently, raising her face up to look at her. Large tears streamed down her face and Arya felt her heart squeeze. "He isn't mad at you, Weasel. It may have seemed that way, but you know Gendry. Has he ever been mean to you?"

"No," the girl whispered, sniffing.

"Boys can be stupid sometimes," Arya said playfully.

Weasel gave her a small smile. The tears began to slow and she pulled her knees down, grabbing Arya's hand. "It's just that, with my mum gone, you three are all that I have," the girl whispered.

"We aren't going anyway," Arya said, rubbing her head softly.

"I just wanted to tell Gendry that today is my name day."

Arya closed her eyes, knowing that it he was going to feel so ashamed. Weasel just wanted him to celebrate with her. Through all of the horrible things they were facing, Weasel just wanted to give them some happiness. "Happy name day," Arya said.

"I'm five now, almost a lady."

Arya nodded her head, smiling at the girl again. "D-do you think one day Hot Pie will look at me like Gendry looks at you?"

Her question took Arya by surprise that she was stunned into silence.

"How does Gendry look at me?" she asked the five year old moments later.

"Like you are the only thing worth looking at," the girl answered.

And then you tell her how much you love her, Arya thought. She looked away, her mind in a different place.

"What are you two doing here?"

Arya and Weasel both jumped up, finding one of Lannister's men behind them. She grabbed the girl's hand and hurried them off the steps. The man was behind them, following them out. Before she realized it, she had them running back to Gendry and Hot Pie. The whole time, she waited for the strike to come behind her, but it never did.

When they made it back to Gendry's workstation, the only one present was Hot Pie. "Where's Gendry?" Arya asked.

"Lannister asked for him," he answered, worry etched in his voice.

"Why?" She felt a tightening in her chest, as if iron bars were squeezing her. What did Lannister want with Gendry? Arya began to walk backwards, Hot Pie and Weasel watching her. "Arya, whatever you're thinking, don't do it. He would kill me if I allowed anything to happen to you," Hot Pie begged.

She turned without another word, desperate to get to him. But what she would do when she got there, Arya wasn't sure. The only thing that mattered to her was that Gendry had been sent into the lion's den. She walked out into the square, bumping in to people left and right, yet she did not stop. They yelled in anger at her, but she ignored them all. Lannister's tower loomed ahead of her, the window open. A horrible thought occurred to her then.

Suddenly, she imagined Gendry's body being thrown from the open window and it caused her cry out. "Gendry," she whispered. "Gendry," she said again. Over and over she called his name, terrified that at any moment he would fall down to the earth below. She would be forced to watch him meet his death without being able to do a thing about it. "Gendry," she said, over and over just like her prayer.

As she tried to climb the stairs in Lannister's tower, her mind was only on getting to Gendry. She never saw the shadow in the darkness. She never saw the hand reach out and grab her. It hit her that something bad was happening only when she felt herself being dragged into the darkness. Was it Jaquen H'ghar coming for the red god's debt?

Her hands swung out in front of her, trying to find something to stop the momentum from pulling her backwards. She found nothing but solid wall, and her fingers slid right over them. Darkness engulfed her as she heard someone breathing hard behind her, fighting against her will not to be taken. Arya open her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over her as soon as she began.

Suddenly, she disappeared into the darkness at the hands of the one who had her.

Chapter 9: Perfection and Blood

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya fought against the strong arms holding her, tried to bite the hand on her mouth. When her teeth bit in to flesh, she tasted the blood in her mouth.

"Shit, Arya, it's me!"

Arya turned abruptly, her eyes becoming adjusted to the darkness around her. A small flame hung against the stoned walls, causing shadows to dance around her. There was no mistaking the person that had grabbed her. Gendry was holding his injured hand in his mouth, trying to calm the pain. Arya felt the anger immediately.

"Are you crazy?" she whispered hysterically. "What were you thinking just grabbing me like that? I could have killed you."

Gendry brought his hand down to his side. He stared at her, no words were spoken. Arya felt the minutes pass. She wondered what was going through his head, for she could not read the expression on his face. Suddenly, Gendry reached out pulling her towards him. The next thing she knew, he was leaning towards her. As light as a feather, his lips fell upon hers. All thoughts of anger were forgotten. The reason she had ran to Lannister's tower was forgotten. The only thing she could think about was the feel of his featherlike kiss.

When she did not pull away from him, He stepped closer, tightening his hold on her. The touch of his lips reminded her of what it had felt like for the water to run down her parched throat. It awakened within her feelings she had never known. She grabbed the back of his neck, afraid he would stop before she got the chance to experience these new found feelings. Gendry responded by applying more pressure to the kiss. His lips felt nice, soft, not at all what she thought they would feel like.

Arya was unsure of what to do, how to kiss him, so she allowed him to lead her. The moment she let go of her worries, and cleared her mind, was the moment she truly felt everything she was supposed to. She leaned in to Gendry, wanting to be as close as possible. He made her first kiss as easy as it could have been…because this was her Gendry.

Sansa had been wrong about what it felt like to kiss a man. There were no loud trumpets going off, no dramatic ensemble of singing voices. There wasn't even a white knight coming to take her away. All there was was Gendry, her and a darkened hallway. It was complete silence, no earth-shattering moment. It was just the feel of his lips and his strong arms around her.

Old Nan had been wrong too. She had told the stories of damsels in distress being saved by their hero and being ridden off into the sunset to live happily ever after. But there was no happily ever after, just the here and now. There would be no riding off after Gendry released her. Still, for Arya, this moment was…perfection.

Gendry finally leaned back, his forehead resting on hers. She had to catch her breath, for suddenly she found it hard to breathe. He had been right. What Rothe had done to her was nothing like this. This was something she couldn't even describe. She found, a little embarrassed, that she wanted to do it again. Arya had watched her parents kiss before, but it always made her scrunch her nose up and turn away. Now, she understood why they did it so much.

"I had enough of being interrupted," Gendry said low, his lips twitching in a smile.

Arya nodded her head, feeling lightheaded. "Yeah, me too," she said in a daze.

Gendry chuckled. Silence grew between them as they stared at one another. Arya realized she didn't want to move, wanted to stay where she was for the remainder of the day. It was Gendry's long sigh that made her realize that wasn't possible. Besides, she was expected in the dining hall tonight. Weese was going to make her serve Lannister's soldiers. Tywin Lannister was leaving for a few days, and she would be answering to Weese instead. When she thought of Lannister, she was reminded that he had sent for Gendry.

"What did Lannister want with you?" she asked him.

Gendry rolled his eyes. "He wanted to tell me how much he liked my work, that he was glad he stopped them from torturing me. He said my weapons were used perfectly in battle."

"Battle against my brother," Arya said angrily.

She saw him flinch, as if she had slapped him. "Yeah…I know. Every time the hammer hits the anvil I am reminded of that."

Arya turned her back to Gendry, not wanting him to see her anger. She knew it wasn't his fault that his hands were used to make the weapons against Rob. What other choice did Gendry have? If he could not produce for them, they would surly have his head. She knew this, but the anger never faded.

"Are you angry with me?" Gendry asked.

"No, not at you," Arya whispered.

Gendry remained silent as Arya got her emotions under control. It took a while, for the anger spread through her like wildfire. But after a while, it eased up and left her tired. She took a deep, long breath, allowing herself to turn back to Gendry. He nodded his head at her and she replied with a nod of her own.

The light of the day was slowly dwindling away. She was expected to meet Weese and the other girls for their jobs. She and Gendry decided that it would not be wise to come in to view together. He told her to go first and he would come soon after. Before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him one final time. The kiss did not last as long as the first, but it was new and exciting on its own. The moment he let her go, she turned and walked away from him.

That night, Lannister's men filled the dining room for supper. They had pulled out a small table in the very back, allowing some of the workers to join them. Gendry was among them, and it made Arya feel better to know he was there. As many times as she could, she glanced at him. Every time, his eyes were on her, speaking words he wasn't able to say.

Weasel was one of the girls picked to serve the men too. Arya tried to stay as close to the girl as she could, but that was not always possible. She watched the girl walk towards Gendry. He smiled at her, giving her small arm a squeeze as she passed by. Though the workers were allowed to dine in the room, they were not allowed to be served like the other men. It was just another way to remind them that, although they were being shown some privileges, they were still beneath Lannister's men.

Arya was so caught up in watching Gendry and Weasel that she missed the hand reach out and grab her by the forearm. The next thing she knew, she was sitting in the lap of one of the soldiers. His arms were around her, feeling nothing like what it felt for Gendry to hold her. She laid her palms on his chest and tried to push away from him. His hold strengthened and she was trapped.

Her eyes darted over towards Gendry, but he would be of no help. Three soldiers were on him. They had his head pushed against the table, his eyes watching her desperately.

"Rothe said you were a feisty one," the soldier whispered, his eyes roaming over her body.

Arya could smell the stale beer on his breath with every word he spoke. It made her want to vomit. "I'm Lord Tywin's cupbearer. It would not be wise to harm me without his permission," Arya said, her jaw clenched.

"Oh, I have no desire to harm you…not too much."

The men around him burst into laughter. The room became still and quiet as all eyes were on Arya and the soldier. Even Weese stood nearby, a large smile on his face.

"That little girl that follows you around, I got a good feel of her today, but she only made me want to try you more," the soldier breathed.

Arya's head jerked up and towards Weasel. She was hiding behind Hot Pie. The girl was shaking uncontrollably. Arya saw red. With speed she did not know she had, she stretched her hand out and reached for the knife that was lying on the table. Her fingers slid around it and she thrust it towards the soldier. He had been expecting her to do exactly what she did. His arm came forward, blocking her swing easily. Another soldier grabbed her arm and ripped the knife from her hand. The soldier stood up, bringing Arya along with him and slammed her on top of the table. The dishes underneath her broke in two. The breath in her body was forced out with a loud whoosh. The soldier climbed on top of her, but she was forced to try to breathe, forgetting him for a moment.

"Do her! Do her good," someone yelled. There were shouts and laughter of approval all throughout the dining room.

The soldier reached for Arya's pants, trying to pull them down. He was going to rape her in front of everyone…in front of Gendry. She began to fight him, reaching up to his face to claw him. Her arms were grabbed and thrust above her head. Arya stretched her head back to see who was holding her. Weese was smiling at her.

"Be a good girl and hold still," he purred.

The soldier almost had her pants down when the blade of a knife came into her view. The tip pressed into the man's throat. He stilled at once, his eyes growing wide. She could see a small drop of blood appear.

"Chiswyck is not such a smart man," said a soft voice.

Arya turned her stunned eyes to see Jaquen H'ghar holding the knife to the man's throat. His eyes were boring in to her, his face holding the smallest of smiles. She didn't look away from him, but drank him in. Standing on either side of him were the other two men Arya had saved the night they escaped. Though their swords were not drawn, they looked at the other men around them as if they expected to be attacked.

"It will be wise for you to climb off the girl."

Chiswyck, that's what Jaquen H'ghar had called him, nodded his head once, his frightened eyes staring at the man that held the knife to his throat. He climbed off of Arya and took a step back. At once, Arya jumped from the table, pulling her pants back up. She turned and went to stand beside Jaquen H'ghar.

"You'll burn for this, you foreign bastard," Chiswyck spat.

Jaquen H'ghar smiled, his blade never lowering. "The gods do not see this as being a fit way for me to die. The man has just been saved from his stupidity, yet he threatens me. The girl has captured Lord Tywin's attention, and it would be unwise for someone like you to mess that up."

For the first time, Arya saw fear in the soldier's eyes. He looked around to his friends, the same men who were cheering him on earlier, but he was met with no approval. The men had gone back to their supper, ignoring him completely. Chiswyck took another step back, and Arya knew that it was over.

Jaquen H'ghar took her arm gently, leading her towards the exit. She turned to look at Gendry before walking out. The soldiers were still holding him down, but his eyes were clear for her to see. The rage erupted inside her mind. She opened herself to him, allowed him to see what Chiswyck had just created within her. She allowed Gendry to see straight to her soul and what she was to plan next. His eyes went wide, his mouth coming open to scream for her to stop, but she stepped out into the night air.

"Chiswyck. The first life I'll offer your god is Chiswyck," she whispered.

"The man will deliver your offering."

"One other thing," Arya said, before going inside her small cell.

"What does the girl need?" Jaqen H'ghar asked, stepping closer to her. His hand rose, caressing her cheek again.

"I want to be there. When the light in his eyes go out, I want my face to be the last he sees," Arya whispered.

He slowly bowed to her, his knowing eyes never left hers. "Later tonight."

Arya climbed into her tethered covers and waited. "Chiswyck, Weese, Rothe, the leader, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound." Two names were added to her prayer, though one would be removed soon enough.

After everyone had climbed in bed, the lights going out all throughout Harrenhall, Arya's eyes never closed. She waited for the sign from Jaquen H'ghar. He had told her that tonight she would have her vengeance and his god, their payment. A shadow moved above her and she looked up to see him standing there. On his face was the faint smile he always wore.

"Does the girl still wish to whisper her first name?" he said so low she had to strain to him.

"Yes," she breathed.

Jaquen H'ghar's hand lowered down for her to take a hold of. His hands were her hands…her deadly hands, she thought. He picked her up easily, never letting go. Turning, they made their way outside without anyone being the wiser. All of them slept through this deadly night. Outside, Rorgue and Biter stood watching. When Arya and Jaquen H'ghar came into view, the men nodded to one another. The three men encircled Arya, as if they were her own band of protectors and escorted her through the darkened square.

As they passed the forge, she saw movement. Gendry stormed into view, his face alight with his own fury. He looked from the three men to Arya. For one brief moment, she lost the will to carry out her deadly plan. His eyes were boring in to hers, begging her to come to him. When she did not move, his hand stretched out for her to take.

"Arya…come to me," he said, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

If his eyes would have been the blades he made, the three men around him would have fallen to the ground, dead, where they stood. The muscles in his arms were wound so tight, Arya thought they would burst. But what haunted her most was the rage within him when he turned his eyes towards her. Gendry had never looked at her like that. That look was saved for the monsters at Harrenhall.

"He's not to be harmed," she heard herself say.

"As the girl requests," Jaquen H'ghar said. Rorgue and Biter took a step towards Gendry. He had no choice but to step back. "The girl must hurry. As the sun rises, so too shall the snakes around us."

"Please, for the love you bear me, do not fight them," Arya whispered to Gendry.

Without waiting on his reply, she and Jaquen H'ghar walked away. Gendry never called out to her, never tried to reach her. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. She prayed that it wasn't the latter. What would he think of her now? Would he hate her come morning? The thought made her sick to her stomach, but she continued to follow Jaquen H'ghar, for her vengeance was stronger than all else.

They had already subdued Chiswyck. His arms were held above his head, a rope tied around them and holding them in the air. He was on his knees, his body naked. His head was lowered, but when he heard Arya and Jaquen H'ghar walk into the small room, his bloody face looked up to them. As soon as Arya met his eyes, he wet himself. A small smile grew on her face.

Jaquen H'ghar walked towards the man and he began to scream. The sound was muffled, for they had put a cloth in his mouth to silence the noise.

"To the red god, to the god of Death, the girl offers her first life in place of the ones she took from you," Jaquen H'ghar whispered.

He unsheathed his blade, placing it on Chiswyck's neck. Arya never lost her smile, never looked away. Instead, she walked forward until she was standing over the man, looking down upon his frightened face. He was begging her through the cloth in his mouth, screaming for her to help him. Arya slowly dropped to her knees, coming to within inches of the man's face. Tears streamed down his dirty face.

"I want you to understand that his hand will end your life, but it is I that has killed you," she murmured.

Chiswyck began screaming again. With a slow and determined motion, Jaquen H'ghar slid the blade over Chiswyck's throat. Arya watched the flesh rip open, watched the blood begin to ooze. She watched it run down his neck, down his naked chest. His screams turned to gurgles. The cloth began to turn red as blood poured from his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body took one last breath. When Jaquen H'ghar removed the blade from Chiswyck's throat, his head fell forward. Blood poured into Arya's lap, but she did not move. This had been her decision. She had chosen to end his life and now she would wear his blood. For what seemed like hours, Arya sat there staring at the life whose soul she had sent to Death. There would be no going back now, for the gods would require two more lives.

Gendry stared at the two men watching him. He wanted to tear in to them, wanted to rip them to pieces. What had Arya done? What had she gotten herself in to? Gendry's mind was in overload at the possibilities of what Jaquen H'ghar was doing with her. Had it been just hours ago that he held her in his arms, kissing her softly? Now, she had forced him to stand aside while she went off with a crazed murderer. He wanted to hit something, beat something, until he could feel the anger die away.

He felt the two men shift in front of him, and he looked up to see two figures in the dark. They were walking towards them, slowly. Rorgue and Biter held the hilt of their swords, not unsheathing them yet. Gendry stared, desperate to see one of those shadows transform into Arya. But when he got his wish, he felt the air within his lungs blow out, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

Arya was covered in blood, from the soft ends of her hair to the bottom of her dirty shoes. It looked as though she had bathed in the liquid. Rorgue walked away, disappearing behind one of the stoned buildings. Moments later, he walked back out with a large bucket in his hands. Gendry could see something sloshing out of the top. As Rorgue passed him, he realized the liquid was water. Biter pulled out a pair of clothing from a small bag he carried around his shoulders. The clothing matched the ones Arya wore.

She began to strip, taking the bloody clothes and throwing them in a pile. Gendry averted his eyes, but when he realized he was the only one that was looking away, jealousy overtook him. He walked past the two men standing guard, walked right up to Jaquen H'ghar and snatched the cloth from the man's hand. He had been in the midst of wiping the blood from Arya's naked back.

Arya looked at him, but there was nothing in her eyes to see. He did not recognize the person standing naked in front of him, and it scared him more than anything could have. Jaquen H'ghar bowed and stepped back, allowing Gendry to be the one to help Arya. He tried not to let his desire for her grow, so he concentrated on the blood. Several times, he had to stop, because they could hear voices and footsteps approaching them. Every time, they would move further into the darkness. The three men would take care of any unwanted guests as Gendry continued working on Arya.

He turned her around, her back to him, wetting the cloth with water and squeezing it on top of her head. The water, mixed with blood, flowed down her skin, causing him to become angrier by the minute. He moved to her shoulders, working his way down her arms. Down her back he went, until he reached the point where he could not make himself go any further. Not like this, not this night, he thought. But it had to be done; otherwise, the soldiers would see the blood. Closing his eyes, Gendry washed her all the way down to the soles of her feet.

Arya never moved, never made a sound as he washed every part of her. When he stood before her to wash her front, she looked him square in the eye, not cowering away. He saw no remorse for whatever it was she had done. He saw no sadness. No fear. This place had finally won her, turning her into someone that did not feel. She felt no empathy. He had failed to protect her from the horrors.

He felt the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to allow them to fall. Still, this was Arya he was talking about…his Arya. Whatever had happened, the fact that she was still his Arya would not change. He would find a way to get her out of this place. By all the gods, he would kill ever monster in this place if it meant he could escape with her, Hot Pie and Weasel. The first monster he would start with would be Jaquen H'ghar.

Gendry helped Arya into her new clothes, though they matched the old ones so well he could not tell the difference. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent. For several moments, she did not move, but then her arms snaked around his midsection.

"You and me," he whispered.

Chapter 10: Escape and Death

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Gendry had not seen Arya since the night before. He had stayed with her, until she had disappeared into her sleeping cell. For the rest of the night, he stayed awake. Above him, he had watched the red comet float slowly across the sky. Was it sent for him? Was it some sign of horrible things to come? He didn't know, but for the remainder of the night, his eyes remained open.

When the sun rose, he headed towards the forge and got to work. When the soldiers weren't looking, he had been working on a surprise for Arya. Right now, though, he could not even look at it. He thought, again, that he would get them out of this hell. Somehow, he would take Arya, Hot Pie and Weasel far away from this place.

He worked well into the day, not stopping, except to make water and eat. The work allowed him to keep his mind off of the events of last night. He would forge a whole damn army's worth of weapons if he did not have to imagine Arya covered in blood.

Gendry felt her presence without having to look up. She slowly walked in, quietly taking a seat. He did not stop hammering the anvil, did not look up at her…not yet. He would take his anger out on the sword before being forced to take it out on her. She didn't say a word, as quiet as a mouse. He could feel her eyes staring at him, watching him.

"Gendry, will you just talk to me?"

Her quivering voice almost broke his resolve. Finally, he looked up at her. She was sitting with her knees pulled up, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her face was pale, as if she had been sick. Her eyes were huge and staring, begging.

"Do you have any idea how much you scared me last night?" he said low, angry.

Arya closed her eyes, shrinking further into herself. Gone, was the stranger he had seen last night. What was left, was the girl he knew. What was left was Arya. "I'm sorry," she finally whispered.

"Save it. I don't want to hear it," he ground out.

The hours between the moon shining in the sky and the sun coming to take its place, Gendry had felt he anger soar within him. He was angry with her, angrier than he had ever been. Arya looked around her, as if she were lost. He watched her get to her feet, her body unsteady. It was then that his resolve was shattered.

"I want the truth, Arya. I want to know what he's making you do," Gendry said.

She stopped and turned back to him. "He isn't making me do anything. I've chosen this," she answered.

Gendry laughed, but there was no humor behind it. He picked his hammer back up and slammed it against the anvil. Over and over, he beat the sword into life. She stood there like a statue, watching him, as if she was desperate for him to say something else.

"You don't know what it was like having to wipe someone else's blood off of you. Can you understand that, Arya?" he asked. He drove his hammer down loudly to drive home every word he said.

"I stole three lives from their god. I must pay those lives back. Death for a life," Arya whispered.

"That's bullshit," Gendry growled. "Stop lying to me, Arya!

His head shot up to her to see if she heard him. He knew she was holding back the real reason why she did what she did last night. He was pretty sure he already knew the reasons, but he had to get her to say them out loud. Arya needed to come to terms with what had happened, because that hadn't happened yet.

"You don't know what it's like, Gendry…" she started, but stopped. Arya averted her eyes, looking at anything but Gendry. "I could hear them screaming for his head. Yoren might have shielded my eyes, but he couldn't shield my ears."

Gendry sighed, realizing Arya was talking about the day her father died.

"I want them all dead, everyone who had a hand in my father's murder. Everyone who works for the people who had my father killed, I want them to die."

"And I guess you think you should be the one to do it, huh? What will it change, Arya? It won't bring your father back."

Silence ensued again. Gendry continued hammering the anvil, desperate to keep his mind preoccupied on what he was doing, desperate not to have to look in her eyes. The anger was too much, his fury too strong. In his mind, she was covered in blood again. He could still feel his hands drenched in water and blood.

"At least I'm fighting back, which is more than I can say for you! How's the weapons making going?" Her voice was like razor sharp ice cutting in to him.

Gendry raised his head again. His fury was past the point of control. He stared at her, wanting her to see him fully. He waited until she finally looked away before speaking. His voice was cold, dangerous and a voice he had never used with her before.

"So, I'm a traitor now?"

"That's not…" but he did not give her time to finish. With one fluent motion, he grabbed the partially finished sword from the anvil and threw it at her feet. The sound of metal hitting stone was deafening. It bounced around them, soaking into his ears with a loud ring. Arya flinched back, looking upon the sword as if it were a live snake. She took a step away from it, her large eyes looking up at Gendry.

"Am I making their weapons? Yes! Do they use my weapons on the battlefield? Yes! Have you just reminded me of that fact? Yes! So, in your own words, you have just named me a traitor, named me someone who works for the very same people that killed your father."

Arya shook her head quickly. "I would never think you a traitor!" she cried.

Gendry laughed bitterly. "Pick up the sword, Arya," he bit out slowly.

He watched her give the sword a quick glance. Her chest was rising and falling in quick movements, but she never reached down for the object.

"Pick up the sword and drive it through this traitor's heart," Gendry whispered, his fist beating into his chest.

"Why are you doing this?" Arya said, tears welling in her eyes.

Gendry turned his back on her, trying to calm the rage. He watched the sparks rise and fall from the anvil. He felt the heat around him, soaking into his naked skin. For just a moment, he could close his eyes and pretend that he was home, working in the forge…a free man. For just a moment, he could imagine his life before all this mess, but it never lasted long. Everything that he remembered before meeting Arya just didn't seem as important anymore. She was still the girl he tried to protect with everything he was. She was still the one that had trusted him with her secret…the only one she trusted with her secret. She was still Arya.

He turned back towards her, miserable. Her face matched his. He could see the rage within her eyes, could see the vengeance, but he could also see that scared girl, who allowed him to hold her when the sun went down.

"You are walking down a path that I fear I cannot follow. You feel nothing but your vengeance, your anger. Yes, these men deserve to die for what they have done, but not by your hand. The cost is too much, and it will destroy you, Arya. It will turn you in to the same people that you despise. I can't watch you destroy yourself like this," Gendry pleaded.

"Tell me, what is it that I have if not my vengeance…my rage?" she said, angrily.

"YOU HAVE ME!" Gendry screamed. The hammer in his hands went flying towards the anvil. The sound was as loud, if not louder, than the sword. "Or has Jaqen H'ghar taken that from me too?"

The men in the forge looked over at Gendry, their low murmurs filling his ears. The hammer lay in ruins on the ground, and he knew he would pay for that. He knew a beating was coming, but he welcomed it. Maybe that's what he needed to stop the raging in his mind. He looked away as Arya walked slowly towards him.

When her hands reached out and touched his chest, he sighed deeply. His hand came up, rubbing his face. He body was shaking with anger and it wasn't helping that Arya was so close. Her hands began to slowly move around his chest to his back, until her arms were around his mid-section. He knew that it was no use being mad at her, not when she clung to him.

"I'm still here, Gendry. I won't lose myself, not as long as you're with me. I'll do whatever I have to do to make this right," she whispered.

At once, his arms went around her, holding her tightly to him. He breathed in her scent. He buried his face in her hair. She squeezed him as hard as she could, as if to let him know she was here. "Tell me how to save you from this? From Jaqen H'ghar."

She looked up at him then, her eyes looking so innocent. "Take me away from this place. Let's just do it, let's get Hot Pie and Weasel and make a run for it…please, Gendry. I can't stand it here any longer," she begged.

He nodded his head, "Okay. If that's what it takes, I'll get us out of here, I swear it!"

His lips found hers, taking in all that she gave him. It wasn't like the first kiss, soft and sweet. No, this kiss was filled with hunger, urgency. His hands rose to the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. He was filled with a need he had never felt before. But it did not last.

He heard the sound of men heading towards the forge. He opened his eyes, moving his lips away from Arya and looking over her shoulder. At that moment, a group of seven soldiers walked in. At once, Gendry pushed Arya behind him, putting himself between her and the men. Weese was leading them, his face smirking. Before he could blink, a sword was at his throat. Behind him, Arya gasped.

"Step aside, boy," Weese growled.

Gendry did not move. Two soldiers grabbed his arms, forcing him to move forward. He was thrown against the hard wall, his face digging into the stone. He felt the hard, cold steel of a blade on the back of his neck.

"If the bastard moves, kill him," Weese said.

Arya was ceased, her hands cuffed behind her back. She stared at Weese, her eyes angry rather than afraid. The man walked up to her, as if he were about to pounce. For several long seconds, nothing happened. Then, Weese's hand came out and struck Arya on her left cheek, sending her head jerking to the side. A moment later, he did the same to her right cheek. Gendry tried to buck the soldiers off, but the blade dug into the back of his neck, causing him to wince in pain.

"Where is Chiswyck?" Weese spat.

"Don't know," Arya answered, turning her face back to look at him.

Weese smiled, his blackened teeth shown for all to see. He grabbed Arya's face, roughly pulling her forward. She was inches from his face. "He went missing last night, didn't turn up for his shift. Now, the way I see it, there was only one person who wanted to do the man harm. So, I'll ask you again...where…is…he?"

Arya spat in the man's face, making him recoil back in disgust. He withdrew a dirty cloth and wiped the spittle from his cheek. Arya quickly glanced at Gendry, her face determined. He was surprised by her strength, but soon that strength turned to pain. Weese pulled his fist back and landed a hard, strong punch into Arya's stomach. Her gasps were immediate, her pain evident. She bent forward, desperately sucking in air. She had no time to recover before another punch hit the same place as the one before it.

"Stop it, you bastard!" Gendry screamed.

But Weese did not stop. Three more punches to Arya's stomach had her own her knees, tears pouring from her eyes. Weese grabbed a handful of her hair, jerking her to her feet. Her face was as white as Gendry had ever seen it.

"Where is Chiswyck?" Weese asked again.

"In hell," Arya ground out.

Weese turned back to look at Gendry. The man walked slowly towards him. He braced himself, knowing the punches would come. The first blow hit Gendry in the side. When knuckles hit flesh, Gendry growled in pain.

"Was it you? Did you want to pay Chiswyck back for touching your whore?" Weese whispered.

"Fuck you," Gendry hissed in fury.

Another fist to his side and Gendry was breathing at a fast rate, sweat pouring from his face.

"Bring him here," Weese said, walking back to Arya.

They forced Gendry to his knees, Arya standing in front of him. They put the sword's blade against his neck, forcing him to look up at Arya. He stared at her, trying to hide his fear, but he knew he wasn't doing a good job. If he was to be honest, he was scared to death.

"Now, what did you do to him?" Weese asked Arya softly.

Without looking away from Gendry, she answered, "I killed him, slit his throat."

Weese looked at Arya, disgust evident on his face. "Where is the body!" he screamed. Arya's eyes remained on Gendry. She never looked away from him, even when she received another punch in the stomach. She bit her lip, holding in the cry. Gendry was helpless to stop them. He could do nothing but watch.

"I cut him into pieces and burned him," she answered.

As a matter of fact, Gendry knew that's exactly what happened to Chiswyck. However, it was not Arya who had burned the body, but it was Jaqen H'ghar. Where was that son of a bitch now? Where was he when Arya's life hung in the balance?

"Take her to the cell. I'll be there momentarily," Weese commanded.

The soldiers jerked Arya around Gendry, leading her out of the forge and out of his eyesight. Weese looked at him, rage pouring from his horrible eyes. He kneeled in front of Gendry, studying him for a moment.

"I know what you're thinking, boy. You think you're going to march down in that cell and save that whore. You so much as try it and your head will be on a pike right along with hers."

The soldiers threw Gendry to the ground, kicking him in the stomach and side just because they could. He grunted with each blow, feeling a different place on his body explode in pain. They left him lying in the dirt, panting for air. His mind began screaming for him to get up, screaming for him to go and save Arya. But he had no clue how he was going to do that. The cells were underneath Lannister's tower. There was only one way in and one way out. There was no easy way to get to her. There was one small window that gave the prisoners inside their only light. The only problem with that was that there were bars in the way.

Gendry got to his feet slowly, holding his left side. Whatever injury he had suffered before coming to this place was awoken again. With every step he took, pain shot up and down his body. Still, he fought through it, only concentrating on getting to Arya. He staggered out of the forge, having to catch himself on the wall before he fell on his face. Shaking the dizziness from his head, he pressed on.

Hot Pie and Weasel were sitting on one of the darkened staircases. It had been their hideout since the first moment they walked into Harrenhall. He thanked the gods, old and new, that they were there today. As soon as they saw him, Weasely gasped in shock, but Hot Pie jumped to his feet, reaching Gendry and helping him sit. Gendry growled with every move his side had to take. Weasel came to his right side, rubbing his arm comfortingly. He looked at the small girl, trying to give her a reassuring smile, but a blast of pain hit him and he closed his eyes, digging his teeth into her lip.

"Where's Arya?" Weasel whispered.

Hot Pie looked from the girl to Gendry, finally understanding. "They have her," he breathed.

"Hot Pie, you and Weasel get whatever supplies you can hide. Go to the edge of Harrenhall and wait for Arya and me to join you. Walk in the shadows, and if you are caught, tell them you got lost. Whatever you do, stay out of sight, do you understand me?" Gendry said urgently.

Hot Pie nodded his head, his eyes growing wide. "Where's Arya," Weasel cried again. He could hear her hysterics right underneath the surface.

"Do you trust me, Weasel?" he asked her softly, touching her face.

"Yes," she cried, large tears filling her eyes.

"Then do as I say. I swear to you, Arya will be okay. Now, both of you go!" Gendry said, pushing them to do what he had told them.

He nodded his head, relieved that at least that part of his plan was taken care of. The next part, he had to look for the man that he wanted to give a slow, painful death to. Grabbing the stoned walls, he pulled himself up, grunting. With determination in his heart, the pain eased in his mind. He did not have long, Gendry was aware of this, but it would do no good to think about that right now.

He found Jaqen H'ghar, Rorgue and Biter in the dining hall eating. As soon as he made eye contact with the man, he whispered something to the other men and got to his feet, heading towards Gendry. He turned and walked out, knowing the man would follow him.

"The boy does not look as if he's had a very good day," Jaqen H'ghar said softly.

Gendry did not even give the man time to taste the words of his own sentence before he grabbed him, throwing him against the wall. Jaqen H'ghar looked alarmed but unafraid.

"They took her for what you do," Gendry said through clenched teeth. "She's in the cell, waiting for execution!"

"If you allow me to go free, I will help you get to her," he told Gendry.

At first, Gendry suspected a trap, but he knew he had no choice but to trust the man. Slowly, his hands came down to his side. Jaqen H'ghar motioned for Gendry to follow him. They went through darkened hallways, twisting staircases. They went through back ways unmanned by the soldiers, until they came across a black stoned building. This was the closest Gendry had ever been to the cells.

"This way," Jaqen H'ghar whispered.

He led Gendry around to the back of the building to the window. Both of them dropped to their knees, looking inside. He could not see a thing, but he could hear sounds of whimpering and moaning.

"Arya," he whispered desperately. "Arya, can you hear me."

For what seemed like eternity, nothing happened. Had they already killed her? Had he been too late to save her? He looked in the darkness, desperate to see her. Turning his head, it did not help his dreaded feeling when he saw Jaqen H'ghar's concerned look. No, she's not dead, he screamed inside his head.

Suddenly, hands came up and grabbed the bars. Both Gendry and Jaqen H'ghar reached out to grab them, but Gendry was faster. The hands let go of the bar, grabbing on to him with strength and urgency. He could feel the hands quiver and shake in his, yet he still could not see the hand's owner.

"Gendry?" it was a weak cry, but he heard it nonetheless.

"I'm here," he said as he plastered his face to the bars, trying to see her. Still, he could not see a thing.

"Is the girl badly hurt?" Jaqen H'ghar asked softly.

"Weese," Arya said frightened. Gendry wished for all that was in him that he could see her face, caress her cheeks. "My second name, my second choice to the gods is Weese!" she finished with a yell.

"Arya, no," Gendry pleaded, remembering their talk before the soldiers had come to take her away.

"Gendry, he's coming back to kill me. Any minute, he will be back. There will be no trial, no public execution. He is going to kill me in this dark cell. There are others here, soldiers, Gendry. Weese has the keys to the cells. Kill Weese, free us and let us get out of here. There are enough men in these cells to cause a revolt. It's the only way!" she cried.

"The girl has named her second name," Jaqen H'ghar stated. "The deed will be done."

With that, the man stood up and stormed away. Gendry took one last look at Arya's hands and straightened himself, following Jaqen H'ghar.

Gendry watched in both fascination and horror as the man took care of Weese and his three soldiers. It only took moments for Weese's lifeless eyes to be staring into the sky above. The moment his dead body hit the ground, all hell was let loose around Harrenhall.

Arya paced back and forth, wondering if they would get to her in time. The side of her face was burning in pain where Weese had slapped her harder than anyone ever had in her life. The men around her waited anxiously as well. They had heard her conversation with Gendry and Jaqen H'ghar realizing freedom was in their grasps. She wanted to give them a pep talk, something like her brother would say, but they had no clue who she really was. None of them recognized her. All she was to them was a way out, so she kept her mouth shut.

Suddenly, the door to their cell began groaning. She heard the sound of a key clicking in to place and the door swung open, revealing the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Gendry and Jaqen H'ghar stood in the door, motioning for everyone to get out. She ran to Gendry, throwing her arms around his shoulders in a hug.

"Listen to me, Arya. Something is going on out there. This place is being overrun I think, but I don't know who the new visitors are. There is fighting everywhere and I need you to not let go of my hand for a second, do you understand?" he screamed over the noise.

New visitors? Fighting? Could it be such a coincidence that these men chose today, her execution day, to go in to battle? Was the gods really looking out for her? Again, her life was spared from death. Suddenly, she felt a horrible sensation flow through her. Jaqen H'ghar's words floated through her mind, 'A life to pay for death'

"Arya!" Gendry called to her, shaking her shoulders gently.

"Let's go," she said, breaking out of her dread.

Jaqen H'ghar and his men ran behind them, their swords drawn. Everywhere Arya looked, men were falling left and right. Blood poured on the streets, running in every direction. She watched one man get his head cut off. She watched it roll, until it disappeared into a gutter. The hand holding Gendry's tightened.

"We will help you to the other two at the edge of the gate. You must run, and do not stop running until the sounds are died away. Do not look back, for this city is going to the god of Death!" said Jaqen H'ghar.

Several times, they had to stop as soldiers ran towards them, their swords drawn to attack. The men took care of them easily and they continued their run. At the large entrance gate to the city, Arya saw Hot Pie and Weasel looking around in horror. When Weasel saw Arya, she cried out with relief. It made Arya run faster. They were almost there, almost to freedom. Arya could taste it.

As soon as they reached Hot Pie and Weasel, they all turned and ran through the gate. The air seemed to smell different, fresher outside of the large gate. Arya turned her head and noticed that Jaqen H'ghar and his men were gone. She never got to say thank you, but she knew she would see him again. She still had one more life to give the gods.

On and on they ran, doing exactly as he had told them. They came to a hill, running as fast as their tired legs would take them. Still, behind them, the screams and shouts could be heard. They were not far enough away yet.

There was movement behind one of the large trees they had just passed, and Arya felt Gendry yank away from her. Someone had grabbed him, throwing him down the hill. Arya turned just in time to see him roll to a stop at the bottom. Next, Hot Pie and Weasel were pushed, rolling exactly like Gendry had done. Arya was left to stand before the one that had pushed them. The face she saw had her wanting to scream.

"Hello, love," Rothe breathed.

His hand shot out, squeezing her throat. She pounded her fists into his chest to get him to release her, but his hold was too strong. He threw her down, climbing on top of her and grabbing her head. As hard as he could, he slammed her head into the ground. Lights burst behind her eyelids, until nothing was left but black dots. She groaned, feeling her head explode in pain. Gendry screamed, but it sounded as if it were coming a mile away. Rothe climbed off of her, yelling for Gendry to come and meet him like a man. Gendry rose to the occation.

He charged towards Rothe, his head going straight into the man's belly. It did not seem to hurt him a bit. He wrapped his arms around Gendry's back, throwing him to the ground. He rolled out of the fall, jumping to his feet. Arya turned her pulsing head, watching through unfocused eyes. Rothe withdrew his sword, holding it out in front of him.

"Sideways," she heard Gendry whisper.

He had no weapon to defend himself, nothing to fight Rothe off, but he had his quickness and his strength. When Rothe would take a swing at him with the blade, Gendry would dive out of the way easily. Hot Pie grabbed Weasel, moving her from harm.

Aray turned on her stomach, grabbing the grass to pull her forward. She could feel blood running down the back of her neck. She started moving slowly at first, but soon picked up the pace. After a few moments, she was able to stand. The moment she stood, she saw Rothe's blade head for Gendry's arm. The very tip of it grazed his skin. Weasel screamed when she saw the blood.

She did not even know the man was back, had not heard of his arrival. How could she not have been prepared? Gendry charged when Rothe's body was opened to him, the small target he wasn't. He hit him with a force, driving them back. Rothe's sword fell from his hands, resting on the soft grass.

Rothe was able to throw Gendry off of him. He soared through the air, landing a good few feet away. For a moment, Gendry was stunned into stillness. He picked his back up off the ground in obvious pain. His sword forgotten, Rothe pulled out his crossbow and pointed it straight at Gendry. He stilled at once, his eyes staring straight at the deadly weapon pointed at him.

Arya was almost there, just a few more steps, and she would be at Rothe's back. As quietly as she could, she bent down and grabbed the sword. Her hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword, bringing it up with her when she stood.

"Any last words?" Rothe growled to Gendry.

Arya raised the sword above her head and thrust it down upon Rothe's neck. The blade slid through his flesh straight through his throat. He croaked and gasped as blood began to squirt out. But Arya wasn't fast enough. By the gods, she wasn't fast enough, and it would haunt her for the rest of her life. Rothe's finger jerked in the crossbows trigger and the arrow was sent flying.

Arya's world erupted into a horrifying scream as the tip of the arrow met flesh, muscle, bone and heart.

Chapter 11: The Field of Wildflowers

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"Noooooooooo!

Gendry stared, wide-eyed, ahead of him. He could not move, could not feel a thing. Rothe's body fell to the ground in a bloody heap. Ayra's screams echoed in his ears, but he could not respond to her, could not make a sound. His eyes were staring, yet he could not make his mind wrap around what had just happened. Even as the blood began to pour like raindrops from the sky, his mind still refused to believe it was true. How had they come all this way and it end like this? How could he have let them down?

"WEASEL!" Hot Pie howled.

The tiny girl stood before him, her eyes wide and dazed. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Blood trickled from the edges of her mouth, dropping down to her chin. Gendry forced himself to look down at the girl's chest. He forced himself to see the horrible object protruding out of her small little body. He felt bile in the pit of his stomach, threatening to rise to his mouth. How could this have happened?

Weasel staggered forward, falling straight towards Gendry. He was there in an instant, grabbing a hold of her body before it could make impact. As quickly as he could, he took the end of the arrow and broke it off, not daring to try and remove the whole thing. He felt Weasel shutter, but it was all the response he got. He cradled the girl in his arms, rocking her back and forth.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he shrieked, tears filling his eyes at once. "Why, Weasel! Why?" he sobbed.

The arrow had been meant for him, for his death, not this precious girl. He never saw her react, never saw her close enough to where she would have time to react. One moment, he was staring at Rothe's deadly face and the next, Weasel was in front of him. He watched the tip of the arrow go straight through her, coming out right above her stomach. She had stared at him the whole time, nothing but love and understanding in her eyes. Weasel had sacrificed herself for him.

"WHY!" he screamed at her, shaking her body.

He could hear her wheezing, could see that her chest barely moved.

"Somebody do something!" he said desperately.

There was nothing to be done, he knew that. Even the most skilled of healers could not mend Weasel's broken body. Tears began streaming down his face. Hot Pie was beside him, reaching out for her, but Gendry could not seem to let her go…not yet. Arya crawled towards them, her cries mixing in with his and Hot Pie's.

Weasel's eyes were upon his face, but he could tell she didn't see him. She had been the embodiment of innocence in this hell they found themselves in. But now, she was just another casualty in a war started by men who would never even know her name, never even know she existed. He yelled with a fury of the injustice of it all. He yelled for a life that was being taken too soon. It should have been him. He should be the one lying on the ground, dying. He had been ready, knew it was his time when Rothe had pointed the crossbow at him.

"I-it's so b-beautiful," Weasel whispered.

Gendry sobbed quietly as he held the girl tighter. The light was slowly fading in her eyes. Soon, death would be upon her.

"Where's…H-Hot Pie," Weasel asked softly.

It was then that Gendry knew he had to let her go. He knew Hot Pie deserved to be the one to hold her in the end. With all the strength he could muster, he turned to the boy and motioned for him to take his place. Hot Pie did not hesitate, but took Weasel close to his chest, smiling down upon her as his tears escaped his eyes. For one brief moment, Gendry watched as Weasel's eyes cleared. She focused on Hot Pie, smiling the most beautiful smile he had ever seen her smile.

"D-do you see her?" Weasel rasped.

"Who," Hot Pie said, his words barely audible.

There was a short pause, Weasel not answering. At first, Gendry thought she was gone, for she was as still as he had ever seen a person be. "M-my mummy," the girl breathed. "She's h-here."

Beside him, he heard Arya stifle a sob. He reached out, not taking his eyes off Weasel, and grabbed Arya, bringing her towards him. She clung to his neck, sobbing in his chest.

"S-she wants me to…to come…with h-her.

Hot Pie closed his eyes. His devastation was visible for all to see. He reached a shaking hand out towards her face, wiping a stray tear away from her pale cheeks.

"I-I don't…I don't w-want to leave…you. I promised…you," Weasel whispered.

Her eyes were growing dim, her breathing slowed, yet her eyes stayed focused on Hot Pie, begging, desperate to hear him say it was okay for her to leave. Her small face crumbled in emotions no one her age should have even bee knowledgeable of, but Gendry could see her love for Hot Pie, her protection of Hot Pie shining off of her. He felt humbled to be able to see such pure love from one so pure as Weasel.

Hot Pie slowly leaned forward, placing his lips upon the girl's forehead. He lingered there, his tears falling on Weasel's skin. His body shook with sobs. As he placed his forehead upon hers, his eyes closed.

"It's time to rest now, little bird. Your mummy needs you now," he whispered with such love that Gendry felt it all around them.

That was all Weasel needed, just the softest of assurances and words from Hot Pie, and her chest stopped moving completely. Her eyes stared up, but could see nothing of what was around her. It was on this day, the day they found their freedom from Harrenhall, that a girl only known to those as Weasel left this world forever.

"I don't want her buried here. It's too close to Harrenhall and she said the place gave her nightmares," Hot Pie said a while later.

His tears had dried upon his face, but the brokenness was still very present. Gendry nodded his head, in agreement with whatever Hot Pie thought was best. After all, none of them really knew the girl like him. Arya let go of Gendry, turning her attention to Weasel. Her hand went towards the girl's hair, running her fingers through the fine strains. She slowly bent forward; kissing her forehead like Hot Pie had done earlier.

Without another word, Hot Pie got to his feet, reaching down and taking Weasel into his arms. He did not wait to see of Gendry and Arya followed. Ahead of them he walked, his body hunched over the girl's dead body.

The whole time they walked, Gendry watched Hot Pie for the first signs of fatigue. He would take Weasel from his arms just to give him a small breather if that's what he needed. Gendry was amazed at the boy's strength, never showing that amount of resolve before.

The forest around them began to shrink, the tree growing closer and thicker. Gendry looked at Arya out of the corner of his eye. Her face was red, her eyes swollen from crying, but there no other sign of what she was thinking. He wanted so badly to know she was okay. Instead, he squeezed her hand gently. She turned haunted eyes to him, and he saw his same emotions staring back at him through her…guilt.

He cursed the gods, both old and new, then. What cruel games they played to take such a young and innocent girl instead of him.

"Here," Hot Pie whispered.

He had stopped, looking through thick brush at something Gendry could not see at the moment. Both he and Arya followed him, until the came across the most breathtaking of sights. Past the thick brush and large trees sat a clearing. It was filled with hundreds upon thousands of wildflowers, their colors too numerous to count. They sat on the banks of a river that flowed steadily and gently. Walking through the sea of wildflowers, beautiful and colorful butterflies took to the sky, their rest disturbed by visitors.

Finding soft earth, Gendry began looking for something to dig with. He did not have many options to choose from. He chose a sturdy branch and large, jagged rocks. Laying Weasel down on the bed of wildflowers, Hot Pie joined him. Soon, Arya was up to her elbows in mud and dirt as well. Together, they built a final resting place for their fallen friend. They built a resting place for the one who deserved to outlive them all.

It took hours, and well into the night, but finally they reached a level that they felt comfortable wolves would not seek her body out. Gendry was both physically and mentally exhausted. He had mud caked to his face, hands and chest. Hot Pie gently picked the small girl up in his hands and carried her to the hole. The tears returned to his eyes as he sat her body down in the mud. For a moment, Gendry could trick himself in to thinking the girl was just sleeping…if only for a fleeting moment.

It was then, as they began to cover Weasel in the earth, the clouds opened and the rain began. Large, angry raindrops fell upon them as they pushed the dirt over the little girl's face. The moment she began to disappear from their sights, Hot Pie completely broke down.

High, anguish sobs burst forth from his mouth as his hands pushed the wet mud on top of his best friend. Gendry knew that that was what Weasel had become to him. He did not try to silence the boy, for if the situations were reversed and it was Arya whose face was hidden underneath mud, he did not think he would be able to cope.

Well into the night, the rain continued, as if the skies were crying for the lost girl. It washed down upon Gendry as he sat beside the shallow grave. Hot Pie sat beside him, his hand resting on top of the mound. Arya was curled underneath a large tree. Her eyes stared at where Weasel was buried, but she said not a word.

"I promised her…we promised each other," Hot Pie whispered some time later. Gendry turned to look at Hot Pie, the boy staring at the mound underneath his hand. "We promised to take care of each other. No matter where we went, we'd always stick together. I-I swore that to her, Gendry."

Gendry closed his eyes, reliving the moment the arrow hit Weasel's chest. He had thought of himself as the leader of this group, yet where had that gotten them? Kidnapped, tortured, beaten…dead, he was no leader. He was no leader at all.

"I promised her," Hot Pie moaned to himself. His dirty hands reached up to his hair, pulling, as he rocked back and forth in his sorrow. He repeated the words over and over as the hours passed. Gendry stayed right beside him, sharing in his sorrow, in his pain. He gave Hot Pie no reassuring words, no comforting phrases, for in that moment all of them escaped his thoughts. He had no idea what time it was as he stretched out beside Arya. Her eyes were still open, still looking at the mound of dirt.

When his face lay inches from her own, her eyes flickered to his. Slowly, she reached her hand out and touched his face. The moment her featherlike touch caressed his face, Gendry let his emotion go. He grabbed Arya, pulling her towards him and cried in her shoulder. She shushed him softly, kissing his forehead and hair. She never cried, never shed one single tear. Not one word was spoken, but he didn't need her to speak. He only needed her to allow him to hold her, allow him to be thankful for at least one thing on this night. Her eyes were all that he needed.

Gendry wanted to believe that Arya was just trying to be strong for him, but the way her eyes kept wandering to the mound of dirt, the way her lips would move without words, yet he could read what she was not saying…her prayer, made him feel a quake of fear. There were three names taken off her prayer list. Those three men lay dead…one burned to a crisp. All of them lay dead at Arya's hands.

"Arya…" he whispered, begged.

Her lips quit moving, stilling at the sound of her name. She looked at him then, her eyes clear and present. He was getting good and telling the difference when his Arya was there, and when the stranger Arya was present. When the day came that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference, he knew that that's when he would completely lose her.

"I'm okay, Gendry. Get some sleep," she soothed.

"It should have been me," he said miserably. "It should be me in that grave and not Weasel. She should have never been killed."

Several moments passed before Arya spoke, but her words did nothing to soothe his ache. Her words did nothing to ease his fragile mind. If anything, it caused him to worry about her even more.

"Anyone can be killed, Gendry," she whispered.

His eyes opened as rays of light shown down upon him. At first, he couldn't remember where he was or how he got there. His mind felt fuzzy, as if he had drank too much beer. It only took one look at the mound of dirt to remind him of the horrible events that took place less than twenty-four hours before. The deep aching in his heart from earlier came back with a vengeance. By the light of day, little Weasel was still dead. It hadn't been a dream after all.

Hot Pie was still asleep, using the mound as a pillow. Gendry worried that he would have a hard time getting the boy to leave this place. They could not stay here forever, for Harrenhall was still too close for his liking. He would drag the boy along with them if he had to. He refused to lose anyone else, refused to fail anyone else.

Arya was standing before Weasel's grave, a bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. Gendry stood up from his makeshift bed of grass and watched as she bent down, lying them over the soft dirt. Arya rested her chin on her knees, staring at the beautiful yellow, red and purple flowers. When the first tear fell, Arya wiped it away, angrily, looking out over the calm river. Gendry could see her chin quivering; see the emotions she fought so hard to hold in. He was in awe of her strength, but he wished she would break down, just to let it all out like he and Hot Pie had done. But that wasn't Arya's way. She carried her demons inside, never to let anyone see them…not even him.

"I had a dream last night, Weasel," Arya whispered, still looking out over the river. "Nymeria came to me, after all these months, she finally came to me. She spoke to me, telling of promises for you. She said you would not be disturbed, she would see to it. Nothing, no man or animal would ever destroy your resting place. She called this place holy ground." After a moment of silence, Gendry thought Arya was done, but she spoke again…this time it was quiet and deadly, "I swear to you, all of them will pay. The Lannisters will be begging for death once I am through with them. Everyone who had a hand in this will pay. I swear it!"

They did not have to worry about packing up any belongings, for they had nothing with them. They had fled Harrenhall with just the cloths on their backs. Not even the surprise he was working on for Arya was saved. Gendry and Arya stood at Weasel's grave, letting their final goodbyes hang in the air like thick fog. His throat felt closed in, as if he had something lodged far down. His eyes burned with the tears he refused to let show. Beside him, Arya stood like stone. He grabbed her hand, leading her from the mound of dirt. Hot Pie remained where he was, staring down.

"Hot Pie," Gendry called softly.

"Just…just a few more minute…please," he begged.

Gendry nodded his head, leading Arya towards the dirt path. Behind him, he could hear Hot Pie's soft sobs again. He did not, could not stop to check on him. This place smelled of death, of injustice and he was smothering in its grasp. He wanted to be away from everything this place held. Including the memory of a sacrifice he never asked for.

It was longer than a few minutes before Hot Pie joined them. It did not matter to Gendry. He would have given the boy all the time in the world to say his goodbyes. The trio turned from the clearing, heading towards a destination they knew not of. The way was silent, haunting. The air hung around them like thick smoke, until Arya finally spoke.

"We didn't even know her real name."

After a haunting silence, Hot Pie whispered, "Beth. Her name was Beth."

Chapter 12: Friend or Foe

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

They had been walking for three days. Exhausted, hungry and tired, the trio finally fell to the ground where they stood. Arya did not move for what seemed like hours, too tired to think. Everything felt like one big nightmare. She lay on the grass, surrounded by the forest, and stared into the sky. It hung above her, grey and overcast. She realized it matched her mood perfectly.

When her stomach began to growl, she knew it was time to get up and go find food. She sat up slowly and tried to stand, but strong hands came down upon her shoulders. Arya stilled at once. She didn't have to look behind her to know it was Gendry. She had learned his touch so easily. He touched the back of her head and she bit her lip in pain. Her eyes began to water. As softly as he could, Gendry pushed her head forward.

"I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth.

"I want to see for myself," he answered, his voice low.

She allowed him to push her short hair back. He spoke no words, but she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Will I live?" she asked, only half kidding.

"The cut isn't that deep. I'm more worried about the large bump."

She gently pulled her head out of his grip, looking back at him. Gendry looked as bad as she felt. His thick, black hair was sticking up on end. His shoulder, where Rothe had cut him, was healing, but it looked very painful. Black bags could be seen underneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and his guilt was the worst part of all. When Gendry did sleep, he mumbled Weasel's name, mumbled apologies too late to be spoken.

She turned around, staring out at Hot Pie. He was sitting alone, just staring into nothingness. He hadn't spoken many words since they had left Weasel's grave. Arya was starting to worry about him, but she didn't know how to talk to him about it. He was grieving worse than any of them.

"Is he okay?" she asked, her head pointing towards Hot Pie.

Gendry took a seat beside her, wrapping his arms around his knees. He stared at the boy for a few moments, as if trying to decide. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

"It is my fault, you know. It is all my fault," Arya whispered.

Gendry slowly turned to look at her. She turned and met his gaze, allowing him to see the emotions she could not allow herself to show. He reached over, lightly touching her cheek with his thumb.

"No, Ayra, it wasn't you fault," he said.

Arya smiled bitterly, angry tears filling her eyes. She blinked them away hurriedly, refusing to allow them to fall. Gendry's thumb continued to caress her cheek. "Yes it was," she whispered. "I should have cut his fucking hand off first, and then drove the sword through his throat."

With that, she pulled Gendry's hand from her cheek and stood to her feet. She walked through the thick woods, not knowing where she was headed. All she knew was that she needed to move, needed to silence the voices in her head that cried for blood. The anger was so that it drove her mad. Arya leaned against a large tree, her head resting on the rough bark. She slammed her eyes closed, the bloodlust sitting heavily on her shoulders. Her palm rose and slammed down against the tree. Over and over, she slammed her hand down in her angered rage.

When she finally dug underneath her emotions, she realized what her biggest issue was. The moment Rothe shot the crossbow she had thought that Gendry was as good as dead. The moment she realized he was unharmed, she had thanked the gods. She had rejoiced, so thankful that his life was spared. Even in the horrors of watching Weasel breathe her last breath, she had still felt such relief. What kind of person would feel that way as an innocent girl lay before her, dying?

Arya was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into strong arms. Gendry surrounded her with his warmth, with his strength, and she clung to him. "I was thankful it was her, Gendry! I was so thankful it was her and not you!" Arya screamed in his chest.

His hold tightened on her. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, screaming her horrible, inhuman thoughts in his chest. He never responded, never told her to be quiet. He allowed her to scream, until she had no more energy to scream. Still, Gendry never let her go.

When she had finally calmed down, releasing the demons that were eating away at her, she looked up at him. Her face was red, her eyes swollen, and he reached down and took her face in his hands. As gently as he could, he began to kiss away her tears. His lips touched her eyelids, taking her pain from her and in to himself. As softly, as if he were afraid to break her, he kissed every inch of her face. Arya clung to him, allowing him to comfort her in this way. Surprisingly, she felt herself relaxing and letting the anger go.

When he reached her lips, she devoured him. The gentleness was gone, the awkwardness and being unsure melted away. She needed him, needed him as close to her as she could get. She needed to feel something other than the rage, something only Gendry had ever been able to give her. He tamed the rage and anger within her. Gendry responded, pushing her up against the tree. The rough bark pressed into her back, but it could not penetrate pass the feeling of Gendry's mouth upon hers. His tongue touched her lips, begging for entry. When she opened her mouth wider, she felt his tongue gently touch her own. He did not force his tongue any further than her own, being content to just taste her. Arya had never experienced anything like it before.

Suddenly, his face shot away from her, turning to the side. He looked as though he were concentrating on something, and when she began asking him what was wrong, his finger shot up to her lips to silence her.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

Arya stared at him, straining her ears to hear what it was he was hearing. At first, she heard nothing, but several seconds later, she began to hear the sound of horses. He turned his wide-eyes towards her, and without a word they began running back towards Hot Pie. The closer they got to where they had left the boy, the louder the noise became. Several different scenarios ran through Arya's mind, but none of them were good. By the time they came back to where they had made their camp, Arya realized they were in deep trouble.

A group of men, all on horseback, circled around Hot Pie. There were at least ten men, if not more. Their swords were drawn on the boy as he turned to look at each man. The encircled him in a cold, steel circle. His face showed his fear, his body shaking.

"Seven Hells," Gendry whispered underneath his breath.

It was too late for them to crawl back into the thick woods. As soon as they stepped forward towards their friend, the men turned straight to them. On instinct, Gendry stepped in front of Arya. She leaned to the side, looking past him. One of the men on horseback was trotting towards them, his sword pointed in their direction.

"You two, over here…now!" he commanded.

Gendry looked around desperately for a way of escape, but there was none to be found. Arya thought if they made a run for it they could lose them deep inside the forest, but that would leave Hot Pie to his fate. She just couldn't do it. She felt she owed Weasel for her horrible thoughts, and what better way to honor the girl's memory but to protect the one she loved most of all.

Arya stepped out from behind the protective shield of Gendry. She grabbed his hand, squeezing softly. He looked at her, his face showing his helplessness. "You and me," she whispered. Gendry closed his eyes, breathing deeply. She could tell that he understood there was no way out but to walk forward.

"You and me," he responded back.

More than likely, this would be it for them. They would come to the end of their lives on a small road heading towards Riverrun. These men looked as if they were out for blood. Arya prayed her death would come swiftly upon her. She prayed she would be first, for she did not think she had the strength to watch Gendry and Hot Pie die. That would be a fate worse than death.

Together, hand in hand, they walked towards Hot Pie. He looked both relieved and scared. As soon as they entered the circle of horseback men, they were surrounded. Four of the men climbed from their horses and walked towards them. The trio took a step back on instinct, but their way was blocked. What waited behind them was the sharp end of blades. Both Gendry and Hot Pie were pulled away from Arya. Gendry fought them for a moment, but as soon as the blade touched his neck, he stilled. They were forced to their knees. Their hands were bound behind them as a sword's blade was held at their neck. Arya stood by herself, watching the men close in.

"Though I have not put anything past Tywin Lannister, I still find it very odd that he sends children out to do his bidding."

Arya turned her face to the right, watching as someone came into view. The man atop a black horse looked both beautiful and hideous. He had the look of youth, but his face held the look of death. Scars, too numerous to count, shown for all to see. His skin was pale white, as pale as she had ever seen anyone. He looked both alive and dead all at the same time. She wanted to look away from him, desperate to look away from his eyes, but her fascination had taken over. Who is this man, she thought in awe.

"A girl, who wishes to look like a boy…how convenient," he breathed.

She stole a hurried glance at Gendry, seeing his eyes popping out of his head. When was the last time she had had a haircut? Not since Yoren. Her hair had grown, almost touching her shoulders. How could she have forgotten to keep her hair short? Deny it, Gendry's eyes were screaming at her.

The man circled her, looking up and down every inch of her. She remained as still as stone, staring at Gendry. The thought of this man touching her sent her stomach into a frenzy.

"Your name, child?" the man asked softly.

"Weasel," she responded instantly.

The man came back around and sat before her, chuckling softly. "I want to know your real name, Weasel. Also, I want to know what task Tywin Lannister has sent you and your companions on. Think carefully about how you answer, for it will be your friends' fates that suffer for your lies."

"What?" she asked in confusion. Why would this man believe they were doing anything for Lannister? "We are not doing his bidding, milord, I assure you," Arya said, anger in her voice.

The man studied her for a moment, his dead eyes staring in to her. She felt her skin crawl, so she looked away. "You can't even look me in the eyes with your lies, child," he said softly.

"It is no lie, milord."

"I am no lord…not anymore," he said bitterly

He turned his horse around, riding in between Gendry and Hot Pie. He watched them for a moment before nodding at his men. Arya watched in horror as they were bent forward, their necks exposed.

"What are you doing!" she screamed at him.

"We are giving them a fair trial, child. You have the responsibility of speaking on their behalf, and if I am satisfied with your answers, which as of right now I am not, I will allow them to live. So, I will ask you again. What is your mission for Lannister?"

"Nothing, I swear it!" she said desperately.

"You have obviously come from Harrenhall. Is that cursed place not in the hands of Lannister?"

Arya nodded her head, feeling dread sweep through her. There were no other settlements or village from here to Harrenhall. There was no way to deny where they had been. This man would see right through it no matter what lie she thought up.

"We are the law in these parts, child, and we stand against anything the Lannisters are for! I will see all of them dead for what they have done. In the name of the true king, King Robert, the first of his name, and the man who was the king's hand, they will all perish."

Arya felt as if he had slapped her across the face. The air was forced from her body in small puffs. The man who was the king's hand, she thought.

"Eddard Stark," Arya said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"Do not say his name! Traitors are never to speak of him. He was an honorable man, nothing like the filth you serve! Now, again, I will ask what your purpose in our area is! Are you here to pillage and steal from the townsfolk? Know this much that will never happen! We have taken an oath to protect the people who would come to harm at the hands of the man you serve!"

"I. Do. Not. Serve. Tywin. Lannister," Arya ground out.

The man sighed deeply, staring at her. "I do not like to execute children, but I cannot allow you to bring danger to my people. Kill the two boys. We will keep the girl, possibly for ransom."

"No!" Arya yelled, walking towards the man. As soon as she moved, four of his men surrounded her, their blades pointing at her. She stilled at once, looking from Gendry to Hot Pie in fear. They lowered the boys' heads, the steel blade resting softly on the exposed flesh. "You cannot do this! On behalf of the men you say you hold loyalty to, you cannot do this!"

"And what do you know of loyalty, child?"

"I know that loyalty gets you killed, sir. I watched honor and loyalty murder my father and if you kill my friends, loyalty would have murdered them as well. You want my name?" she growled.

The man inclined his head, his face looking amused. The men holding the blades against Gendry and Hot Pie waited for their cue from the man, but Arya knew she had his attention. Her next move was one that was either really stupid or something that would save them all. She had no other choice. With careful, slow steps, she began to walk towards the man. When she came to the blade's barrier, she looked the men straight in the eye and moved their blades aside. They complied, allowing her to pass.

"My name is Arya, of house Stark. In the name of my father, Eddard Stark the hand of the king, I beg you to spare me and my friends' lives. For the respect you hold for my father, let us pass."

For a split second, she saw surprise in the man's eyes, but it did not last. He stared at her for several minutes without responding. Arya met his stare with one of her own, begging the man to believe her.

"Arya Stark is being held in King's Landing," said the man.

"I escaped a few hours after my father was killed. I traveled with a group of men heading towards the wall. Yoren was supposed to deliver me to Winterfell, but he was killed not long after we left. My companions and I are the only ones left."

On purpose, she omitted the three men she had saved from the fire, Jaqen H'ghar, Rorgue and Biter.

"You are quite cunning, child. I will give you that," the man smiled.

"I'm not lying! I swear it on my father's name!" Arya huffed.

"I've heard enough. Kill the two boys, so they will not go back and tell Lannister what they have seen. As for the girl, she will come with me. I frown upon killing women, no matter if they are traitors or not."

Arya was taken by the arms, being held down while she fought against her captives. The swords above Gendry and Hot Pie began to rise in the air, ready to strike them down. The man turned his back and started to walk away.

"This is not a fair trial!" she yelled.

"And there will be no fair trial when liars are the ones speaking," he called over his shoulder.

"You do this, and I swear with all that is in within me, I will destroy you and your men any way I can! Winter is coming, and I will see to it that it takes you first! Slow and painfully, you will fall to your knees and beg for death in the end!" Arya screamed.

The man immediately stopped, his hand shooting in the air. The swords that were meant for Gendry and Hot Pie froze in the air above their necks. The men watched their leader closely. He turned his dead eyes towards her, his smile growing. Arya stood her ground as the man slowly got down from his horse and walked towards her. He nodded his head to the two men holding her, and they released her at once.

"Spoken like a true Stark," the man said softly. "You have your father's face now that my eyes are opened to it."

Arya let out a long breath, her heart hammering in her chest. Gendry and Hot Pie were released. They walked back towards Arya, standing on either side of her, watching the man with the dead eyes. He looked between them, his smile never falling.

"My heart is heavy with the loss of Lord Stark, milady. Allow me to give my respects on behalf of me and my men," he said, bowing his head.

"Thank you," Arya said, unsure of what was happening.

Only seconds ago, Gendry and Hot Pie were about to be beheaded. Now, all around her, the men began to bow their heads in respect to her father. Gendry reached down and took her hand in his. She could feel his palm sweating, shaking.

"Forgive me of my hasty assumptions of you and your companions. We have learned the hard way not to trust a soul, not even the younglings. Our job is to protect the river folk, milady. We do not take that lightly," he said softly.

Gendry chuckled beside her, and all eyes turned to him. "She hates to be called 'milady'."

Arya rolled her eyes. Leave it to Gendry to kid after almost losing his head.

"I see," the man responded. "Perhaps you would prefer Princess Arya. After all, your brother is now king of the North."

She felt Gendry grow rigid beside her. She had forgotten that she had not told him what she had heard in Tywin's chambers about Rob. But, why would he have that kind of reaction? Rob was just…Rob.

"Arya is fine, please," she said, cringing.

"Very well, Arya. May I have the names of your companions as well?" he asked.

For a moment, none of them responded. Finally, Arya nodded her head for them to tell the man their name. What harm could come of it? They already knew who she was.

"I'm Hot Pie," Hot Pie said.

"Gendry," Gendry responded bluntly.

"Well then, Arya," he said, stressing the name, "Gendry and Hot Pie, please allow us to open up our homes for you as our guests. We will dine together. You will have food in your belly and shelter above your head. When you are ready to continue your travel, we will see to it that you are taken to wherever you wish to go safely."

Arya looked from Gendry to Hot Pie, both of them looking uncertain. Though they were starving and cold, they had no idea who these men were. "Parden me, sir, but how can we accept when we do not know to whom we are accepting from?"

The man turned to his men, nodding to each of them before turning back around to Arya. "Forgive my rudeness, mi-Arya."

"We are brothers here, holy brothers, sworn to the realm, to our god, and to each other," one of the men shouted.

"The knights of the hollow hill," yelled another man.

"My name is Lord Beric Dondarrion," the man said. "And we are known as the Brotherhood without Banners."

Chapter 13: The Visitor and the Gift

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya walked around the small camp where the Brotherhood without Banners made their home. She was on a mission, for she had not seen Gendry in almost a week. Sure, she had see him in passing, but he had spent no time with her since they had arrived. Most of her time was spent with Dondarrion, the Brotherhood's leader. Gendry had found his way to their forge, and it was there where he was spending most of his time. Why was he avoiding her? The only thing that crossed her mind was that hearing that she was now a princess had freaked him out. Arya felt her stomach do a flip, dread filling her being.

She passed three members of the Brotherhood, stopping to ask them if they had seen Gendry. Each and every time, they pointed towards the forge. Arya gritted her teeth, ready to give the bull-headed boy a piece of her mind. They were stuck here, though the men seemed nice enough, but anything could happen and Gendry acted as though he thought it would be better for them to spend their time separated.

When she found him, he was alone. Gendry didn't hear her walk in, his mind solely on the rise and fall of his hammer. He looked so at home. Arya watched him for a moment, watched the way his body shifted and moved as he brought the hammer down upon the anvil. It got her to thinking about the "almost" kiss that happened at Harrenhall. He had been so gentle and sure with her. Despite her anger, she could not stop the goosebumps that broke out on her arms. For a moment, she almost forgot the reason she was angry with him, but as his head looked up and in her direction, she remembered exactly why she was here.

"Arya?" he said, his eyes growing wide for a moment.

"Don't you Arya me!" she said, her voice rising in anger. "Do we have a problem, Gendry?"

She stormed towards him and on instinct, he took a step back. Her eyes were staring at him, two split pools of anger. He looked around him, not meeting her stare. As fast as he could, Gendry grabbed something from anvil, holding it behind his back. This peaked Arya's interest.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing behind him.

"Nothing," he said shortly.

"You're lying." When she tried to reach around him to grab whatever it was in his hands, he turned out of her way. She tried going the other way, but Gendry was too fast. He began to chuckle at her frustration. Arya kicked him in the leg, but it did not get her any closer to getting whatever it was he had in his hand.

He grabbed her arm, and in a move that would have made Syrio Forel proud, he twisted her around to where her back was to his chest. When she threw her foot back to kick his leg, he moved sideways, holding her out before him with enormous strength.

"Sideways," he had the nerve to whisper.

Suddenly, he twirled her around, grabbing her at the hips and thrusting her over his shoulders. She began kicking and swinging immediately, but it did no good and only caused Gendry to laugh harder. As he carried her out, she was able to get a quick glance at whatever he had had in his hands. Somehow, he had been able to place it back on the anvil. It was small and she could not make it out, but whatever it was, Gendry had made damn sure to keep it secret.

As soon as they made their way out into the sunshine, he placed her back on her feet. As soon as she was free, Arya reached up and punched him in the chest. He grabbed his chest in mock hurt, but his face was smiling brightly.

"Hardheaded bull," she seethed.

Arya turned and began walking away from him.

"Arya, come on...come back!" he yelled at her. She did not slow. Gendry caught up with her easily, turning her around to face him. Her face was red with anger, but her eyes were filled with hurt. He had been avoiding her, yet he thought it was funny to mess with her like this. The moment he stared into her eyes, his smile fell completely. His hand reached up, holding her face softly. She thought about jerking her face away from his hold, but realized she enjoyed his warm hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Why are you avoiding me?" she asked, the hurt showing.

Gendry sighed deeply, rubbing his massive hands over his face. "I have been, haven't I?" he asked softly.

"It's because of what Dondarrion said, isn't it?"

"Oh, you mean about you being a princess and not telling me? You knew didn't you?" he asked, a little of his own anger showing.

Arya shook her head, a look of embarrassment playing on her face. "I meant to tell you, but with everything that was going on in Harrenhall it just slipped my mind. Then, with Jaqen..."

"It wasn't important enough to tell me, is that what you're saying? Hells, Arya, I kissed you and everything. I know I shouldn't have been kissing you with you being a lady and me being a bastard, but still...this is different!" Gendry said, his voice coming out in hissed whispers.

"Nothing has changed, Gendry. I'm still me. Besides, it's my brother who went off and made himself king! I'm still that same girl you know. You believe that don't you?"

For a few minutes, Gendry didn't answer. She could see a war going on behind his eyes. One part of him believed she was still just Arya, but the other part knew she had changed somehow. The other part knew that she was now royalty. She could see the war intensifying. A sudden horrifying feeling came over her, like this would be the end of them. Arya reached out for him, laying her hand on his bare chest. The heart underneath her palm was beating erratically. They just stared at one another, no words spoken.

"Ugh," he said, as he wrapped his arms around her. "Yeah, you're still the same Arya. A royal pain in my ass!"

She began laughing in his chest, closing her eyes to just take in the moment surrounded by him. As long as she could remind him that nothing had changed between them, her new status change would mean nothing at all. Over the week that he had been avoiding her, she was afraid that he wouldn't be able to look past their statuses. Sometimes, she could tell that he struggled with even the idea of her being a lady. Arya knew it was a mind-blower to know she was a princess, but she felt relieved that his arms were around her now. That had to mean something...right?

"Young man...you there, young man, can you give me a hand?"

Arya and Gendry looked over to a frail, old woman walking towards them. In her hands, she carried two large baskets. The aromas wharfing from the baskets had Arya's stomach growling in appreciation. At once, Gendry let her go and walked towards the woman. As they passed, Arya heard the woman telling Gendry that she was from one of the nearby villages, and that she had brought some soups and bread for the Brotherhood.

"I will be right back," Gendry said over his shoulder to Arya.

As soon as they were out of sight, Arya turned back to the forge. Her face broke out in a large smile. "Fine, Gendry. You want to keep secrets, I'll find out without you," she said, heading to see what it was he had been keeping from her. As she made it to the entrance, she turned around to make sure he wasn't coming back. There was no sign of Gendry.

As she turned back around, her eyes caught movement deep in the forest. She froze, her eyes straining to see past the thick brush and limbs of the trees. Perhaps, she had been seeing things, and after several moments of nothing happening, she decided that was exactly what it was. Again, she turned to walk inside the forge, but there was movement again. This time, a person walked out of his hiding place, revealing himself to Arya. A gasp escaped her as her eyes bulged out of her head. She couldn't be seeing what she thought she was seeing.

Without thought, she turned from the forge and ran into the thick woods. If anyone had seen her pass, they had not called to her. Her feet took a mind of their own, leading her deeper and deeper into the darkness. The tall trees and thick limbs cut out the sunshine around her, and it looked as if night was falling swiftly around her. Still, she kept running, until she came upon the place where she had seen him. The moment she stopped, she began walking around in circles, searching. He had meant for her to see him, she just knew it, but where was he now? Now that she was here, he was gone.

"A girl says nothing. A girl keeps her mouth closed. No one hears, and friends may talk in secret, yes?"

Arya swung around, a scream on her lips, yet she did not let it fall. Standing before her was Jaqen H'ghar. There was blood on his shirt, but he had no injuries. The blood had not been his. His eyes stared at her with the same excitement and intrigue that it had in Harrenhall. Even with a wide berth between them, she could still feel herself being drawn to his strength, to his darkness. She turned away, looking behind her to see if anyone was in sight. She had no idea what he wanted.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice slightly shaking.

"The girl is okay, no?" he asked.

"Fine," she bit out. "Thank you for your help getting us out of Harrenhall."

He inclined his head in answer. They did not speak for a few moments, just stared. It was uncomfortable, not like it was with Gendry. When she stared at him, she felt like she could do it for the rest of her life, but with Jaqen H'ghar, she felt as if he were ripping into her soul with just a mere look.

"Now that you see that I'm fine, it is best you leave. If these men catch you, there will be no way of helping you."

"The girl cares?" Jaqen H'ghar asked softly.

Arya scoffed, "You aren't going to be killed just because you want to check up on me. I won't have that on my conscious. You can call it what you will."

His lips twitched, as if to smile, but it never grew. He took a step towards her and she stepped away, as if they were practicing for a dance. Jaqen H'ghar stopped, not taking another step. He reached slowly in his pocket, pulling something small out and placing it in his hands. Arya looked down at it, confusion written on her face.

"A coin?" she asked.

"If the day comes when you would find me again, give that coin to any man from Braavos, and say these words to him...valar morghulis."

Arya did not move to take the coin, but stared at it as if she were afraid it would come alive in his hands. For Jaqen H'ghar's part, he waited patiently, as if he knew she would take it eventually. And he was right.

She walked slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving the coin. She felt her heart speed up, felt her palms grow sweaty for reasons she could not understand. As soon as her hand touched the coin, she felt a shock go through her. She looked up at Jaqen H'ghar, but he never spoke, only smiled that knowing smile.

"Valar morghulis," Arya whispered.

She realized she was too close to him, and Arya stepped back quickly. He could have grabbed her and ran off, but he didn't. She had let her guard down, which she felt was completely stupid. Still, she held the coin tight in her hands, fearful of losing it.

Without another word, Jaqen H'ghar turned and began to walk away. He did not look back at her, did not say another word.

"Where are you going?" she called out to him.

He stopped then, turning to the side. Only the right side of his face showed as he answered, "Soon, the girl will know the answer to that and so much more."

Long after he was out of sight, Arya remained standing, watching. The coin began to hurt in her hands at how tight she was holding it, but she could not seem to ease her tension. She picked up her closed fist, opening it to look at the coin. There was nothing special about the coin, but she could feel its energy somehow. Surly, this was all in her head.

"Valar morghulis," she whispered again, not knowing what it meant. It felt good on her tongue, rolling off as naturally as her own name. "Valar morghulis," she whispered again.

Arya had no idea how much time had passed before she began hearing the men yell out her name. By the shadows around her, she would guess that night had completely fallen. That would have meant she had been standing here for hours after Jaqen H'ghar left her. Those hours, she could not recall anything. Only a word and the feel of the coin in her hand could she remember.

Shaking herself out of her hypnotic state, she turned and began running towards the sound of her name. It wasn't long after that she saw the lights from torches heading towards her.

"I'm here," she called out to them.

There were several yells and the sound of footsteps running towards her. It wasn't until she came closer to the torches that she saw Gendry leading the men. His face looked as worried as she had ever seen it, and as soon as his eyes found hers, relief washed over him immediately. He ran towards her, picking her up in his arms and holding her close, his breath coming out in quick pants in her ears.

"I'm fine," she said soothingly.

"What the hells do you think you were doing? You scared the shit out of me!" he whispered in her ear.

As he put her back on her feet, she slipped the coin in her pockets without anyone noticing. The men turned and lead her back to the camp. All the way back, they kept commenting on how lucky she had been.

"There are foul things that walk these forests, milady. You are lucky you were not devoured by one," a man told her. Arya turned her head, looking behind her. She had a feeling that she had met something foul in the forest, and before all was said and done she would be devoured.

The men gathered around a large fire, serving the soup the old woman had brought. The air was light, soft talk and laughter surrounded Arya, Gendry and Hot Pie as they shared in the soup. She noticed how Gendry was sitting close to her, even how he watched her from the corner of his eye and knew what he was thinking.

"I'm not going anywhere else, Gendry," she said, sighing.

"What happened out there?"

She had been waiting for him to ask her that, but for the life of her, she did not know how to answer. Should she tell him the truth, tell him that Jaqen H'ghar had come looking for her? Should she tell him that he had given her a coin with a mysterious saying? When their eyes met, Arya made her mind up to tell him. As she started, he interrupted her.

"There's something I want to show you...give you really," he said low.

Gendry stood up, reaching his hand down for her to take. Without thought, she placed her hand in his and he helped her to her feet. As they walked away from the camp, she caught Dondarric's eye. He was watching them closely, a look of understanding in his eyes. He turned his dead eyes towards Gendry, but the boy wasn't paying him any attention...but Arya was. As soon as they made eye contact, he smiled. She never returned it.

He lead her towards the forge. As they walked in, she took comfort in the warmth. This place was now linked to Gendry in her mind. Arya decided that whenever she saw a forge, a blacksmith at work, she would think of Gendry. Somehow, that made her feel comforted.

"What are we doing?" she asked softly.

He came to a stop right in front of where he had been working that day. Suddenly, she remembered the small item he had been keeping from her and her interest began to peak again. She looked around for it, but it was gone.

"After this afternoon, and you disappearing like that, it had me thinking about a lot of things. His hand was holding one of her wrists. His thumb absently rubbed her smooth skin. She felt dizzy in the head, wanting nothing more than to get another kiss. She found she was rather fond of Gendry's kisses now.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Her eyes closed on their own. Her mouth came open a little as she breathed deeply. She felt his hand began to gently slide up her arm, driving her completely mad. His hands found the side of her face, holding it so softly. She leaned in to his touch, finding that all her senses were out of control.

"You asked me the reason why I had been avoiding you this week. I've bee making something for you, something that I want you to have."

With her eyes still closed, she felt him grab her wrist, bringing them up to his mouth. His lips touched her pulse point, causing her to suck in a breath. She was so caught up in what it had felt like, she missed it when he placed something against her skin. When her mind caught up with the seconds that passed, she felt a weight on her wrist that had nothing to do with his hold.

Opening her eyes to look, Arya gasped. The most beautiful bracelet she had ever laid eyes on sat on her wrists. It was made of iron, the color of silvery-gray. Gendry let go of her wrist, allowing her to bring the bracelet to her eyes for a better look. Six charms hung down from around it, and looking closer, she felt the tears immediately. Six heads of direwolves looked back at her. Six direwolves to represent her and her siblings.

"I was so afraid I wouldn't get it done before you found out. I've been in here day and night trying to finish it, and when I saw you today, I panicked," he said, chuckling.

She could not look away from the direwolves, could not stop counting. There were six...not five but six.

"Six," she chocked out.

"I created them like you've described to me." He grew silent, his eyes watching her with alarm. "Arya, don't cry! If you don't like it, or if I've messed something up I can fix it," Gendry said worriedly.

Tears streamed down her face as she continued to stare at her direwolves. There was Lady, sweet Lady, now dead and gone. Beside Lady, there was Grey Wind. Next, came Summer and then Shaggydog, but it was the last two direwolves that had the tears flowing even stronger. Nymeria's beautiful face stared at her with such love. Beside Nymeria, Ghost stood tall and proud.

"You remembered Jon," Arya cried.

Gendry watched her worriedly, his face showing uncertainty, until Arya looked up at him with a tearful smile.

"Of course I did," he answered.

Arya closed her eyes, feeling her emotions overtake her. She missed her family so very much. She missed her mother and her dead father, her brothers and sisters, but most of all, she missed Jon. Now, she could look on her wrist and see their direwolves at any time, as if she carried a piece of them around with her wherever she went. They were here with her, all because of Gendry.

"No one ever remembers Jon," she said through her closed throat.

She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing. There was no greater gift that he could have given her than the bracelet. There was no greater gift that she could have asked for. He squeezed her, blowing out a breath of relief. How could he have not thought she would love his gift? It almost took the place of losing Needle...almost.

"So, I take it you like it?" he asked.

She laughed through the tears, squeezing him harder. "I love it," she whispered in his ear.

"Good, because when you take it off, you'll notice I put something of myself in it too."

She leaned back away from him in order to look in his face. His eyes were dimmed by the darkness around them, but the love pouring out of them to her was undeniable. He had taken so much time to give her a little piece of her family, and it blew her away.

Though she did not want to, she had to see what he had done. Slowly, she released him and undid the bracelet. Sliding it off, she looked on the inside of the bracelet.

"You and me," she read.

"Those words will sit at your pulse-point for as long as you wear the bracelet. You will carry a little bit of me closest to your heart," Gendry murmured.

Arya did not hesitate, but reached up and kissed him long, hard and deeply.

Chapter 14: Stupid Acorn Dress

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"I. Am. Not. Going. To. Wear. It!"

Arya had argued with the plump woman standing in front of her for half an hour now. In her hands, she held a horrible thing, something that Arya did not want to come close to her. When the woman inched forward, she stepped back. Her eyes darted around the tent, looking for the closest exit.

"You will wear it, milady, because it is only fitting for one of your status to dress the part! You cannot think it is okay to walk around in that horrible outfit all the time now can you?"

"Yes!" Arya said, her voice rising in pitch.

She looked at the woman, as if she had lost her mind. Still, the woman held the hideous thing out for Arya to take. Instead of reaching for it, she crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. She turned her nose up and looked away from the woman, who, by the looks of her face, was becoming very upset.

"You will put this dress on, milady, otherwise I will hold you down and put it on for you! You are not in Winterfell, my deary, and we do things a little differently here. Lord Beric is throwing a feast in your honor tonight and you will dress appropriately, otherwise it will look very rude!" the woman spat.

For a few moments, Arya and the woman stared each other down, daring the other to make a move, but neither moved an inch. This was a nightmare. Arya's eyes traveled to the dress the woman wished her to wear and she felt her face grow hot with anger.

"It has...acorns on it!" Arya seethed.

The woman smirked. "Of course, milady. You are in the forest amongst men, who call the forest their home. Now, put it on like a good little girl, or I will have one of the men come and hold you down while I do it for you!"

Arya's eyes grew wide for a moment, wondering if the woman would actually do it, or if it was just an idle threat. With a groan of displeasure, Arya snatched the dreadful dress from the woman's hand and held it up to look at it. Her eyes closed as she sighed deeply. It was even more horrible up close.

"Acorns?" she whined softly.

"The acorns will look lovely, milady, just you wait and see. You will be the envy of all the ladies present tonight and have the attention from all of the men!"

Arya gave the woman a death look, wanting nothing more that for Jaqen H'ghar to be present. She would name this woman her third and final victim. As it was, she had no choice but to put the stupid thing on.

"Acorns," she said again. "What? Do you have a shortage of pinecones?"

The woman had humor enough to snort at Arya's snide comment. But when all was said and done, Arya stood in front of a large mirror, staring at the acorn dress. She hated it, oh gods how she hated it. Hot Pie would have a great big laugh and Gendry...well she would die of embarrassment once he saw her. The woman was staring at her wrist, at the bracelet. Arya didn't know why, but she reached over and covered it with her hand.

"That is quite a bracelet, milady. Who gave it to you?" the woman asked.

"A friend," Arya answered.

The woman studied her for a moment, looking down at the covered bracelet, as if she could see right through Arya's hand. The woman smiled softly, raising her hazel eyes back up to Arya's face. "May I?" she asked, holding her hand out to see the bracelet.

For a moment, Arya didn't move. Finally, she decided there would be no harm done. She walked slowly to the woman, feeling the stupid acorns moving as well. The woman took her wrist and held the bracelet up to better inspect it. Arya watched her, but the woman's face showed nothing of what she was thinking.

"A friend made this for you, you say?" the woman asked softly.

"Yes."

The woman smiled, as if she knew a secret Arya did not. She released Arya's wrist and stood to her feet, her smile never faltering. Arya watched her walk towards the exit, thinking the woman would just leave, but she stopped before disappearing.

"No friend would make such an extraordinary gift. That, milady, is a sign of someone's true devotion to you."

With that, the woman disappeared from the tent, leaving Arya to mull over her words. She raised the bracelet up to look at it again. The work Gendry had done on the bracelet was amazing. The detail was flawless and she could not imagine in the week it took him to make it how many hours it actually took him. She felt her heart swell with pride at what he had done. Truly, it was amazing.

She paced around the tent feeling the acorns moving along with her. The more they moved, the angrier she got. The dress itself was not so bad, but gods, the acorns. Feeling frustrated, angry and downright pissed, Arya exited the tent. She made eye contact with no one, fearing what she would see. This is stupid, she thought. She could feel every pair of eyes upon her, feel her face turning beet red. If she wasn't so far away from the tent, she would run back in and hide till the feast was over.

"Arya?"

She raised her eyes, finally, seeing that she had reached the forge. Hot Pie was gawking at her, and she did not have the courage to look at Gendry. There were other men around. They also were gawking.

"One word, Hot Pie! I dare you to say just one word!" she whispered vehemently.

His gawking turned in to a full-blown smile. After the smile, came the burst of laughter. "It's too easy," Hot Pie chocked out through the laughter.

Arya thought about nothing but wrapping her hands around his thick throat. The acorns be damned. If they all fell off one by one it would make no difference to her. She lunged after him, seeing red. Arya never made it to him as strong arms came out and grabbed her by the waist. She fought against Gendry's hold, trying her best to get at Hot Pie. She could hear Gendry laughing as well and rounded on him.

"You think this is funny?" she seethed. "You think my embarrassment is funny?"

At once, his laughter died away, but his smile remained. He inclined his head towards the exit and lead her away from the gawking men and a laughing Hot Pie. She turned and stared at the boy just before walking out. If looks could have killed, Hot Pie would have been her third victim instead of the woman who made her put the damned dress on to begin with.

Gendry walked her away from everyone and into a thick growth of the forest. When he stopped, he turned towards her and watched her for a moment. Again, she crossed her arms over her chest in a show of defiance. The acorns dug in to her skin, causing her hate to rise.

"I look like an oak tree," Arya whispered. She chanced a glance at Gendry, seeing a thoughtful look on his face. His head was nodding ever so slightly as his eyes roamed from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.

"A nice oak tree. A beautiful oak tree," he said softly.

His words seemed to ease some of her anger and tension. The thoughtful look was Gendry showing his approval. Though she still hated the dress, it made her situation a little better. He stepped towards her, engulfing her in his musky scent. His hands clasped her hips, holding her still. She held her breath as he leaned in to her, his nose burying in her hair.

"You smell nice too," he breathed.

Arya closed her eyes, taking in his close proximity, feeling her stomach flip in excitement, but then Gendry had to go and ruin everything. She should have known it was too good to be true.

"Although, I'd say the acorns were a little bit of an overstatement," he said, laughing.

Her anger came back in full force as she heard his mocking tone. She reached up, pushing against his chest. He moved back without much effort on her part, but his smile remained.

"Well you don't," she bit out. "You stink!"

"Oh yeah?" Gendry said, grabbing her to hoist her over his shoulder. He should have known not to do it. He had used this move on her before, and if he had known anything about the water dance, he would have known that she would have been expecting it. Instead of him hoisting her over his shoulder, Gendry was falling to the ground. Arya had reached her leg out and tripped him. What she didn't expect is that he would pull her down with him.

They began rolling around on the dirty ground, Gendry tickling, Arya swinging. She tried not to laugh, tried to stay mad at him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. His laugh was infectious, his smile beautiful. Soon, she found herself smiling and laughing as well. When everything was over and both were spent, they laid on the ground, huffing. Arya's head was laying on Gendry's arm as they tried to catch their breaths. He picked his head up, looking at the dress and burst out laughing again.

"Looks like you won't have to worry about the acorns anymore!"

Arya picked her head up and looked at the dress as well. A bubble of laughter escaped her mouth and would not stop until she was balled into Gendry's side as tears of mirth ran down her face. As it stood now, the ground had defeated the acorns as all of them were crushed.

"I don't think it matters much," Arya said through her laughter. "I think the woman has a pinecone dress for me next."

A rumble of laughter left Gendry as he grabbed Arya and hugged her to him. She listened to his laughter and breathing, finding herself feeling content. It should always be like this, me and him, she thought.

After the laughter died down, Arya turned her head to watch him. His eyes were closed, enjoying the cool day. One eye popped open and looked at her. His mouth twitched into a smile. The sound of music drifted towards them and Arya sighed. She knew the feast would soon start. She thought it was stupid for them to be throwing a feast in her honor anyway. They listened to the words of the song as the singer began.

"Do you like it here, Gendry?"

He did not answer her at first. His eyes were still closed and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. He finally took a long breath. "I like it well enough," he answered. "I like their beliefs, you know, protecting the ones that cannot protect themselves. They have a fine forge, one that I feel most at home in. When I'm in the forge, everything just kind of melts away."

"You could work in Winterfell's forge. You can still smith for my brother Robb if you choose. I—I would like that a lot," Arya said softly.

Gendry shifted, pulling his arm from underneath her head. Propping himself up on an elbow, he stood over her. His eyes watched her carefully. What he was looking for, she had not a clue. "What do you think this is that's going on between us, Arya? Do you think that this is something that will pass, as leaves pass in the wind? Or do you think this is something that neither of us have the strength to ignore? I know exactly how I feel, but I need to hear how you feel as well," he said quietly.

"I don't know how I feel," Arya said, laughing. She was nervous and when she was nervous, she laughed.

She knew it had been the wrong thing to say once she saw Gendry''s face change from peaceful to angry. He began to get to his feet and she reached out to stop him, but he snatched his arm away. She had embarrassed him. Gendry had put his feelings out there for her, showing her how he truly felt, but she had repaid him with not being able to confess what she was feeling.

"Gendry, where are you going?" she called to him.

He stopped, but did not turn around. "Going to get ready for your feast, milady."

Arya watched him walk away in anger, wondering how in the world she could have screwed this up. Everything had been going wonderfully, and then she had to go and embarrass him. Gendry was stubborn, prideful and strong. Gods, why did I have to laugh, she thought as she slammed her hand down on the hard ground. She got to her feet and stormed towards the tent. She was covered in dirt and mud and another bath was in order.

When Arya was washed and cleaned, she stood before the long mirror and stared at her reflexion. The acorn dress was out of the question now. Thank the gods that dreadful woman wasn't around, for Arya grabbed a pair of brown pants and matching shirt. She would be more comfortable in this anyway. She knew the moment the woman saw her, she would skewer her alive, but Arya didn't care.

Her mood was darkened considerably once she headed out of the tent and towards the growing fire. The men were already gathered around, talking and laughing. She searched around for Gendry, but he was no where to be found. Arya spotted Hot Pie and started to make her way over to him. A loud gasp erupted to her left and Arya turned to see the dreadful woman staring at her with large eyes. Her face was the color of red, her mouth hanging open. Arya gave the woman a huge smile and a wave.

"Disrespectful!" the woman hissed. Arya rolled her eyes and continued to walk towards Hot Pie.

"You sure pissed in that woman's soup," said a voice in the darkness.

Arya stopped walking and looked for the owner of the voice. At first, she saw no one, but knew someone was there watching her. She could feel their eyes upon her and it made her feel uncomfortable. The dreadful lady was forgotten. Hot Pie was forgotten.

"Although, it is quite entertaining to watch the woman's face change colors like that."

It was then that someone stepped into the light of the fire. Arya turned fully towards the boy walking towards her. His good looks were visible immediately, even with the small light shining on him. He looked a few years older than she, but younger than Gendry. His hair was pale blond. It was too dark to see his eyes, but she could tell they weren't light like his hair. He walked towards her with an air of confidence. When he reached her, his head bowed low as he reached for her hand. She jerked it back right as his fingers brushed her skin.

This did not seem to deter the boy as his smile grew wider. "I can only assume that you are Princess Arya Stark, no?"

Arya did not answer him, but watched him closely, looking for any sign of his intentions. He looked too slick, to well put together to be harmless. He wasn't like the other men. To Arya, he seemed well-bred, maybe of noble blood by the way he carried himself and the confidence he showed in his actions.

"And what if I am?" she asked. "Who wants to know?"

Finally, the boy looked up at her, his smile still present. "You are a feisty one, aren't you?"

Arya rolled her eyes and walked passed him, but the boy would not be swayed easily. She heard him walking closely behind her.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed at him.

"Because, I find you intriguing!"

Arya rounded on him then. At least he had sense enough to step back. "Leave...me...alone," she warned. Arya turned and began walking again. "You've known me like, what, five seconds and you use the line that you find me intriguing?"

"What if I told you that I found you beautiful? Would that be better?"

Arya laughed despite her anger. "At least tell me that I will get the privilege of a dance, milady!" the boy called to her.

"Not a chance in seven hells!" Arya shouted without turning around.

The boy did not follow this time, and Arya continued to make her way towards Hot Pie. Her steps slowed as she saw that Gendry had joined him. He was watching her, his face a mixture of embarrassment and slight anger. Hot Pie sat, unaware of the looks passed between Arya and Gendry. She had to make this right with him.

As she opened her mouth to ask to speak to him, the boy from earlier spoke behind her again. "So, about that dance, milady."

"Listen here," Arya said as she turned abruptly, ready to strike the boy down if she had to, but she gasped instead. Beric Dondarrion was standing beside the boy, his hand lying gently on the boy's shoulder. The boy was smirking at her. Up close, Arya could see his eyes now. The were the darkest blue she had ever seen, so dark they looked purple.

"Arya, may I introduce my squire to you, Lord Edric Dayne of Dorne," Dondarrion said.

"Shouldn't you be calling her princess?" Edric asked.

"She doesn't like it," Dondarrion, Gendry and Hot Pie said all at once.

The boy made a silent oh with his lips, as his eyes watched her with amusement. He reached his hand slowly towards her, a smile growing on his face again. "May I have the pleasure of a dance?"

"No," Arya said instantly.

Dondarrion chuckled softly, squeezing Edric's shoulder. "It will take more than flattery to win this little lady's affection. Perhaps, you can tell her about a certain family member of hers that you are linked with."

Now this did raise Arya's interest. She looked from Dondarrion to Edric, waiting for one of them to explain.

"Your father's bastard son Jon and Edric were milk brothers."

At the very mention of Jon's name, Arya felt her heart tighten. "Jon," she whispered.

"Come, milady. Let me tell you of my home," Edric said, his arm outstretched for her to take. It surprised her that she did not hesitate to take his arm. Even if this boy didn't know Jon, due to them being babies at the time, just the thought of being able to talk to someone who was connected with him was enough.

For the rest of the feast, Arya sat with Edric, listening closely to his stories of Dorne. He told her the rumors of who Jon's mother was, though he looked uncomfortable with the topic. Arya hung on his every word, missing her brother more and more terribly with every passing second. She relished the sound of Jon's name coming from Edric's mouth. The entire night had been so fascinating, and it wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that Arya remembered Gendry. The last time she remembered seeing him was when she was walking towards Hot Pie. She had been so absorbed in Edric's stories, and talking about Jon, that she had completely forgotten him.

When her head turned to look in the direction of where he was sitting earlier, there was no one there but a man asleep. She looked around the camp and noticed that most of the men had retired or slept right where they sat. Edric continued to yawn, showing his fatigue as well. She realized she had to find Gendry and tell him everything, knowing how this must look to him. She had spent the entire feast with someone else, someone other than him.

"Thank you for the talk," Arya said, standing.

Edric inclined his head, a tired smile on his face. "May I call on you tomorrow, milady?"

"Erm...perhaps, I will call on you, if I can find time," she said, embarrassed.

Edric chuckled. "I get it it. That is fine, milady."

Arya sighed, "If you keep calling me 'milady', you will wish I wouldn't call on you ever again."

He laughed, standing to his feet. Edric grabbed her hand before she could stop him and placed a gentle kiss on her skin. She waited for the butterflies to appear in her stomach. She waited to feel lightheaded like she did when Gendry would do things like that, but she felt nothing. There were no butterflies, just a fondness for the boy. He was a link to Jon, but that was all. In a way, it made her feel relief.

Excusing herself, she hurried towards where Gendry slept during the night. It was complete silence around the area, as though no one was awake. Perhaps, he did not think anything of it and had gone to bed. Arya could only hope, but as soon as she heard the slurred voice behind her, she knew she wasn't going to be that lucky.

"Well, if it isn't the princess. Did you come to check up on me, milady?"

Arya turned to see Gendry half-standing, half-leaning against a tree. His thick, black hair was a mess, his face flustered. In his hands, he held a large wooden cup. She could feel his anger radiating towards her. At first, she felt guilty, but then realized she had nothing to feel guilty for. She had done nothing wrong, and rather enjoyed her conversation with Edric.

"What are you doing Gendry? Are—are you drunk?"

She had never seen him drunk before, never seen him anything but level-headed Gendry. He stood up, swaying slightly, before walking towards her. She could smell the stale beer on him before he was upon her.

"Thought I would unwind a little bit tonight since I've had to face death everyday since meeting you," he said, none too gently.

She flinched at his words, his anger. The smartest thing for her to do was to walk away, but she couldn't make her feet move.

"Lord Edric Dayne. I guess you finally found people who are worthy of your time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she seethed.

Gendry began laughing, yet no humor could be heard. The wooden cup fell from his hands, spilling the beer onto the ground. He looked down at it, smacking his lips. "Oh well, just my damned luck tonight, I guess," he said, walking the rest of the way to her.

For the first time that she could remember meeting him, Arya watched him approach her warily. He stopped, inches away from her and just stared. She met his stare with an angry one of her own.

"Did you kiss him?" he slurred.

"D—did I kiss him? It's none of your business if I did or not! But for your information, no I didn't!" she said heatedly.

"But you wanted to, didn't you?" he snarled.

Arya took a long, deep breath, reminding herself that it was the drink that was speaking on Gendry's behalf. If he would have been of his own mind, he wouldn't be talking to her this way. Her head understood that, but her heart was having a harder time believing it.

"Never mind...I already know the answer. It just affirms my belief is all," he said, low.

"What belief is that?" Arya asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

Gendry chuckled, running his hands through his thick, black hair and messing it up worse than it already was. All at once, he looked so tired. Arya took a step towards him, but when he spoke, she froze.

"Tonight just reminded me of the line that is between us," he whispered.

"There is no line between us!" she said, exasperated.

His eyes stared at her, as clear as she had seen them since this conversation started. All at once, it seemed to Arya that Gendry had completely sobered.

"No line? Last time I checked, you were of noble blood and I was just a bastard, or have you forgotten!" he said sharply.

"No," she said, walking straight up to him and pointing her finger in his chest, "you seemed to enjoy reminding me whenever you can!"

He grabbed her hand away from his chest. Arya struggled to break free, but he would not let her go. His anger intensified. As much as she tried not to let it creep in, she felt fear creep its way in to her mind. "Let me go," she whispered.

Gendry seemed to come to himself then, releasing her and taking a step back. He turned from her, his shoulders hunched. She could see the tension in his body, see the veins straining in his neck. She had never seen him this furious before, all because she was talking to Edric. He didn't understand, didn't see that it was nothing but her reaching out to someone that had ties to Jon. There was nothing else.

"Perhaps, when it is time for you to leave this place, Lord Dayne can accompany you instead," Gendry said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it struck Arya straight through the chest.

Anger rose up within her at his threat, or perhaps it wasn't a threat at all. Maybe he meant his words. Maybe he meant to leave her too. For him to even say it made her want to punch him until her hands ached. "Fuck you, Gendry!" Arya snarled.

He whirled on her, his face red with anger again. "I am fucked, Arya. I'm fucked because I allowed you into my heart, knowing there wasn't a future in it. I know who and what I am, and it will never be good enough for you! It will never be good enough for your king brother! I am fucked...I am so very fucked!"

She stepped towards him, ready to wage war with her words, but something flew over his head, missing him by mere inches. On instict, Arya and Gendry fell to the ground. Looking past where he was standing, to a tree, an arror was sticking out. Gendry had come to within inches of that arrow being in his skull. As soon as that sunk in for both of them, their conversation was completely forgotten. He reached out, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet, shielding her with his body.

Another arrow came at them, this time swirling past Gendry's arm. It came so close, Arya heard the wind brush past them. He threw her on the ground, falling on top of her to keep her from being hit. It was then that the camp exploded with arrows and shouts from past the tree line. It was then that Arya realized that danger had caught up with them once more.

Chapter 15: Abandoned

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

The forge came in to view, and Arya saw that that was where the men were running to. It was in that direction that Gendry pushed her. She could hear the arrows zooming past them at breakneck speed. To their horror, they watched as the men began closing the door of the forge, leaving them stranded against the assault.

"NO! Heyyyyy!" Gendry yelled.

As if in slow motion, the door continued to close. One of the arrows came too close, and Arya and Gendry both fell to the ground.

"Wait!" Arya screamed.

At the very last moment, before the door was completely shut, one of the men finally heard their screams. They did not hesitate, seeing that it had been Arya who had screamed for their help. Four men burst from the forge, running towards them with shields. One of the men grabbed her, while another grabbed Gendry. The other two men stood behind them, their shields raised as the arrows came flying towards them.

Inside the forge, the place was chaotic. Men were running here and there, dressing themselves in armor. Dondarrion was standing amongst them, his face calm and reserved. Arya could hear the arrows pelting against the forge's door, but it would never be able to pass the iron metal. Weapons were being handed out to the men as they waited for their leader's command. Arya's head was spinning. She wasn't quite sure what had just happened. One minute, she was fighting with Gendry and the next, they were running for their lives.

She turned back to look at him, making sure no arrow had hit him without her knowing. He was breathing hard, sweat running down his face, but he looked unharmed. Arya froze as she watched him. Gendry was dressing in the armor passed out from one of the men. He slid the iron breastplate upon his chest, beating it down until it fit just right. As another man passed him, he reached out and grabbed a sword. With keen eyes only a blacksmith would have, he held the sword out before him, making sure it was balanced and sharp.

"I saw the black goat with the bloody horns on the banners, Lord Dondarrion," a man called out.

Arya continued to stare at Gendry, while her ears listened to the discussion going on around her.

"Are you sure?" Dondarrion asked.

"Positive."

Dondarrion swore for several seconds, looking around at his men before his eyes fell on Arya. She could feel his dead eyes staring at her, but she could not look away from Gendry. She knew what he was doing, knew why he was putting the armor on, but she couldn't allow herself to believe it. He was not a soldier. He was a smith.

"Okay men, listen up. It looks as though the Bloody Mummers are paying us a visit tonight!" Dondarrion bellowed. "If a fight is what they want, a fight is what they will get! We drive them back. Do not let them get past to the villages!"

The men yelled their agreement. Dondarrion walked towards Arya, taking her arm gently to get her attention away from Gendry. She looked up at the man, but could not help but to look at Gendry too. Her attention went back and forth.

"Arya, I need you to listen to me carefully. My men and I will give you plenty of cover, but I must ask you to take the forgotten path down to the nearest village. In this village, you will find a place called Crossroads Inn. Ask for a girl named Jeyne. Tell her what is happening here and she will know what to do. Stay there, and you will be safe," Dondarrion spoke, hurriedly.

"I know the path," Hot Pie said, coming to stand beside her. Arya had never been so happy to see him than she was in that moment.

"Good! Come."

Arya and Hot Pie followed Dondarrion towards the back of the forge. Several men began walking with him. They were almost to the back door when she realized Gendry wasn't with them. Suddenly, she came to a halt and turned, looking around for him. He was standing with a group of men. It looked as if he were waiting to charge outside.

"No!" Arya said in disbelief.

"Arya, where are you going?" Hot Pie yelled over the noise. She ignored him, only concentrating on getting to Gendry. He was not going to do this to her. No matter what had transpired between them before the arrows went sailing, he was not going to do this. He was looking through a pile of wooden shields when she reached him.

"Come on, Gendry, we're leaving," she said.

He turned slowly towards her, his face showing his thoughts. He meant for her to leave without him. He meant to stay behind and fight, while she ran through the darkness to a place she had never been before. What made them think that the Bloody Mummers hadn't already gotten to the small town before coming here?

"I'm staying," he said shortly.

"No...you're going with me and Hot Pie. We are going to the village and you're coming with us," she said, leaving no room for argument, but this was Gendry. Bull-headed, stubborn Gendry.

"Arya, you don't have very much time. Leave with Hot Pie, now!" Gendry huffed.

"Don't do this," she begged him, her voice growing small. "Please—please, don't do this."

They stared at one another as the men got ready to attack. Her face was pleading with him, but his face was a hard mask of stone. "You've been drinking, Gendry. You were drunk not five minutes ago," she said, trying to make him see reason.

"So are half the men in this place, Arya. Everything will be fine. Please, you need to leave right now."

Gendry took a step towards her, taking her face in between his hands. His blue eyes never left hers.

"You can't separate us, Gendry! Do you remember telling me that? Do you remember saying that no matter what, were weren't to be separated? What is this, what do you call this?" she cried.

He shook his head, finally looking away from her. Gendry had made up his mind, and there was nothing she would be able to say to him to change it. He was, indeed, planning on separating them and it caused her fury to rise within her.

"If you think that I'm just going to allow you to ship me off like I'm..."

"Take her," Gendry said over her shoulder, interrupting what she was about to say.

Arya arms were grabbed from behind. Two men were pulling her away from Gendry and she began to fight against them. "Let go of me!" she screamed. "Let go of me right now!" The men continued to pull her towards the back door and before she knew it, she was outside again. Gendry's face disappeared behind the forge's walls.

The men turned her to face forward, yet they did not let her go. She had to run to keep up with their long legs. The only thing that went through her mind was that Gendry had sent her off on her own...without him. The pain cut deeper than any words he could have ever said to her, and in that moment, she hated him for it. In a way, she felt as though he had abandoned her. In the silence of the darkness around them, Arya, Hot Pie and two of Dondarrion's men took the forgotten path towards Crossroads Inn.

The village was small and quiet. No harm had come to them and Arya was relieved, until she remembered where Gendry was, remembered that he was right in the middle of a battle. She turned her head in the direction of the Brotherhood without Banners' camp, as if she could see past the large trees.

"This way," one of the men said.

He lead them towards a three story structure with turrets and chimneys made of white stone. They ran through the darkness, heading towards the front entrance. Dondarrion's men stopped at the door, turning to face Arya and Hot Pie.

"Here is where we leave you, milady. It is still and quiet here, and we will not let the Bloody Mummers pass us. You will be quite safe here. When all is taken care of, we will come and get you and the boy."

With that, both men turned and ran towards the forgotten path. Arya turned towards Hot Pie, who looked as scared as she felt. He met her gaze for a second, but looked away in embarrassment that she was able to see his fear so well. She thought about reassuring him that she too was scared, but decided to just walk through the door instead.

As soon as she walked into the inn, she froze. At once, she knew this was no normal inn. There were children cleaning tables and floors. Some were just lounging around talking to their friends. Two girls stood behind a large bar, and both of them were staring at her and Hot Pie.

"We're closed," the tallest girl said. Arya could only assume that this was Jeyne.

"Not anymore," Arya shot back. "Dondarrion sent me here from his camp. We were attacked by a group called the Bloody Mummers. He sent me here to warn you."

There was no hesitancy in her actions, which scared Arya more than anything. At once, she dropped the glass she was holding and barked out orders to the other children. Even the children did not question their orders. "Grab those tables and push them towards the door! She walked towards a small boy no older than Rickon and said, "Go upstairs and bar the windows!"

Arya and Hot Pie were shoved out of the way as the children began pushing the tables and chair towards the door. Feeling foolish for just standing there watching, Arya began to help. Pretty soon, Hot Pie joined in. With everyone helping, they had the doors secured.

It could not have come at a better time, for outside the inn the first sounds of screams could be heard. Inside, not a sound was made as everyone listened. The girl, who she still assumed was Jeyne, came and stood beside her.

"You're Jeyne, right?" Arya asked her, just above a whisper.

"Yes," she answer breathlessly.

She was just about to tell the girl her name when the someone outside began beating on the door. The children standing around her jumped in surprise. Even Arya couldn't help the flinch that traveled the length of her body.

"This place...its..." Arya began, but the girl finished her sentence for her. "It's an inn, but I take care of the orphans as well," Jeyne answered.

Dread filled her as she looked around at the scared faces of the children. Most of them were very young, and they huddled together, holding on to each other. Their tiny faces showed their fear. Another slam against the door brought Arya's attention back to what was going on outside. The windows came alive with the light of a large fire beginning to grow just outside of the building. Both men and woman's screams rose to a deafening volume. It was in that moment that a horrible thought struck Arya.

"Jeyne," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Is—is there a back door?"

The girl turned sharply towards Arya, her eyes growing wide. It was as good an answer as Arya needed and she jerked around to go and try to protect the back door. She didn't run two steps before she heard the sound of crashing wood. Coming to an abrupt halt, Arya saw shadows moving towards them. The children began to scream as several men walked into the room.

These men were smiling, yet there was nothing nice about them. They looked to have not bathed in months, their skin blackened by dirt. Their teeth were yellow and rotted. The stench that came from them engulfed the whole room, causing Arya to hold her breath as long as she could. Slowly, she walked back away from them as they advanced. More men came walking through, until they outnumbered the inhabitants of the Inn. This was bad...this was very bad.

"Move the tables and chairs away from the door," the biggest of the men said. When none of them did as he ordered, he screamed, "Now!"

Several of the older kids turned and began the task of moving the heavy tables and chairs. Hot Pie was among them. So was Jeyne, but Arya stood her ground. She stared at the man, who by the looks of him, was the leader of the men. They did not move unless he ordered it. As soon as his eyes fell upon her, Arya looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she watch him walk towards her. Her heart exploded in her chest, beating so fast it hurt.

The man walked as slowly as he could around Arya, his eyes looking her up and down. She stood as still as possible trying to figure out a way to get out of this one. The smaller children were watching her. Some were sobbing, while others were as still as stone. The man reached out suddenly, grabbing Arya by the hair and jerking her head back. She cried out in pain before she could stop herself. The man leaned in to her, taking a long breath.

"You smell different, not like these gutter rats," he hissed in her ear.

She did not respond, did not so much as look at him as he buried his nose into her neck. She felt sick to her stomach at his close proximity, feeling his stench soak into her pores. His hold on her hair was becoming unbearably tight.

"Let her go!" Hot Pie yelled.

The moment he did, Arya's eyes went wide in fear. Stupid, stupid Hot Pie, she thought. When one of the men raised his hand to strike the boy, the man holding Arya held up his hand for the man to stop. It was then, the pain in her head be damned, that she began to fight. It was no use, he clamped down on her hair with an iron grip. It did nothing but cause her more pain, yet she knew what was coming, knew it with every bone in her body. If they got out of this alive, she would kill Hot Pie.

"What did you say, boy?" the man asked Hot Pie.

"I said, let her go!" he said without hesitation.

He did not realize what he was saying and it made Arya furious. But she wasn't furious at Hot Pie. She never expected him to be anything more than the twit he was, but she was angry with Gendry. Her anger was so that it shook her body, which the man holding her thought it was fear. He looked down at her, smiling. His yellow, broken teeth inches from her face. His horrible breathe blew in her face. If Gendry would have just come with them, he would have picked up on Hot Pie's mistake and shut the boy up. As it was, Arya was in serious trouble.

"Her?" the man spoke softly, his smile growing. "But, you look so much like a boy."

Finally, Hot Pie understood his mistake. His eyes grew ever so slowly, until they were wide and staring. His face turned pale white as he stared at Arya. She met his stare with one of coldness and bitterness. Though she knew he was only trying to protect her, he did nothing but put her in more danger.

"Her," the man moaned in Arya's ear.

She tried to kick him, but he blocked her easily, jerking her head back to keep her from fighting him. The man pulled Arya with him as he walked towards the wooden bar. Holding her with one hand, he used the other to clear the cups and plates that were stacked and ready to be put up for the night. The sound echoed around the room, causing the children to cry out in fear. The man was strong, perhaps even stronger than Gendry. With one quick motion, he grabbed her by the waist and through her on top of the bar. Before she could even think of what to do next, he was on top of her.

"NO!" she screamed, as he grabbed her shirt and began ripping it.

There was no hesitancy in his movements, no time to prepare and strike back. Before she knew it, her chest was bare to him, the shirt completely ripped down the middle. Arya could hear the screams and cries growing louder as they watched her being assaulted. She could hear the yell coming from Hot Pie for the man to stop. Even the laughter from the beasts that stormed into the Inn could be heard in the horrible moment. It was Harrenhall all over again, but Arya knew that Jaqen wouldn't be coming to her aid. She knew Gendry wouldn't be coming to help her either. The man grabbed her breasts, roughly squeezing them. Her knee shot up, but he was able to stop it with his leg. He forced her legs apart, keeping them apart with one of his massive legs.

"Take the boys outside. Bring their feet and hands to me. Burn the rest of them. Do what you will with the girls," the man huffed as he tried to reach in between Arya's legs.

"We should wait for Hoat to get here before we make any decisions, don't you think? Sounds to me like you think you're running things," one of the men argued.

"Do as I say, you shriveling craven, or I will have your hands and feet around my neck before Hoat gets through with those Brotherhood bastards! DO IT!" he yelled.

After that, the men did what he told them. They grabbed the boys, dragging them to the door as they screamed and shouted. The men that were left grabbed a girl of their choice, and the three story structure turned from an Inn that protected orphans to a horror house filled with high-pitched screams of fear. Arya watched helplessly as Hot Pie was lead towards his death.

When he was gone from her sight, Arya began fighting harder. Several times the man raised his hand, smacking her across the face, but she never felt it. She was so caught up in finding her freedom from this man that he could have stabbed her and she would have never felt it.

"They are just children!" she heard Jeyne scream as a man grabbed her, throwing her on the ground as hard as he could. No other sound came from her again.

The man slapped Arya again, this time opening her lip. The blood poured in her mouth. Tears blurred her vision as she turned her head and saw the raping begin. Most of the girls never fought back. They just laid there, as if this hadn't been the first time something like this had happened.

Something caught her eye at the man's belt. It was a blade, smaller than a sword. At first, it reminded her of Needle, but she knew it could not possibly be. One of the Gold Cloaks had her sword, but she felt a surge of hope rise within her, nonetheless. Arya stopped fighting the man, allowing him to completely concentrate on ripping her pants. The sound crashed against Arya's ears, and she knew she only had seconds before this man would begin to rape her. His pants were already down around his knees, his manhood bulging against her thigh.

She waiting until the right time, waited until he had removed her pants and was raised to enter her. Her moves were quick, precise. She grabbed for the small blade and found her way unblocked. The man was so caught up in his lust that he did not realize she had his blade in hand. She thrust the blade through his skin, right underneath his ear, as easily as cutting through silk. She buried the knife in the side of the man's neck all the way down to the hilt. The blood poured instantly, running down her hands and arms. It rained down upon her exposed chest, soaking into her skin. But Arya wasn't done with the man yet. She changed her hold on the knife, beginning to slit the man's throat completely open. He tried to scream, but she cut straight through his vocal cords. The only sound that came from him was air. Arya did not stop until the blade was on the other side of his face from where she started. His neck was completely opened now, his life flowing down upon her.

The man's heavy body collapsed on top of her, causing her not to be able to breathe. She grabbed his arms to push him off, but she was covered in his blood, and it was a slippery job. She growled in frustration, pushing with everything she had. Slowly, the man began to move, until he was falling to the ground below. Arya sucked in a large breath, her lungs thankful.

"What have you done, whore!" one of the men shouted.

The men stopped their assaults to see their comrade lying on his back, his neck cut open from ear to ear. The girls underneath them were forgotten. They began getting to their feet, and Arya did not hesitate. She jumped from the bar, slipping in the blood. She fell on her right knee, causing the pain to shoot up her leg. Arya cried out, but she refused to let the pain stop her. She struggled to her feet, slipping and running towards the broken back door.

Somehow, she had made it through without being stopped, but she could hear the men not far behind. If they caught her, she would be dead before she could utter a word. The only thing that gave her strength to continue running, was the thought that by doing this, perhaps she was saving those small girls from being violated anymore. It seemed that all the men were after her now.

It was completely dark around her. The moon and stars were hidden behind blackened skies. She ran, not knowing quite where she was going.

"We are going to kill you, whore!" a man screamed behind her. She believed every word he spoke. She stared into the darkness, desperate to see anything that looked familiar. The men were almost to her. She could hear them breathing, hear their footsteps almost overtaking her.

Suddenly, the shadows before her began to move. There was no question in her mind that she was seeing the shadows grow into shapes. The question was, would the shapes help her, or help the men? She saw no other option but to open her mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream.

"HELP ME!" The shadows stilled at her scream, raising something in her direction.

"Get down!" someone screamed at her. Arya did not think, did not hesitate, but did as the voice told her. She dropped to the ground only seconds before arrows came out of the darkness and over her body. One by one, the men fell dead behind her.

She heard footsteps running towards her. Someone grabbed her, but she was too frightened to fight. Arya knew she was going into shock, knew she would not be able to fight, but as the seconds passed, she realized she might not need to fight anymore. Whoever held her close to their chest was shaking themselves. Slowly, she raised her head and came face to face with wide, blue eyes. Gendry was inches from her and looked as frightened as she had ever seen him.

"Get her back to the camp!" Dondarrion yelled, passing them and heading towards the inn.

Gendry scooped her up in his arms and, along with several men, turned and ran back towards the Brotherhood's camp. She clung to him, desperate to feel anything other than the fear. He was whispering in her ear, telling her that he was here, telling her that she was safe now. The camp lay ahead of them, but he did not stop at her tent. He continued walking, until he brought her to a small river close to the camp. The men held back, giving them privacy.

Gendry walked her to the bank of the river, sitting her down on the soft grass. She stared at his face, though it was as if she were looking straight through him. He grabbed his shirt, taking it off and sitting it to the side. She was barely aware that he had taken her ripped shirt off, leaving her completely bare to the cold night. He took her ripped shirt and washed it in the water. He scooted her closer to the river, until he could easily begin to wash the blood from her skin. With slow, easy movements, Gendry washed her from head to toe. Do you know what it's like having to wash someone's blood off of you, she thought, being reminded of the words he spoke at Harrenhall. Here, he was doing it again.

As soon a the last bit of blood was washed clean from Arya, Gendry grabbed his shirt and helped her in to it. The scent of him engulfed her and she closed her eyes to take a deep breath. But the feeling she got from it was one she wasn't expecting. Usually, anything reminding her of Gendry gave her peace, contentment, but not this time. This time, it caused within her a surge of of rage so strong it took her breath away. Without warning or word, she scrambled to her feet, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Gendry as she could.

"Arya, please," Gendry pleaded with her, but she ignored him.

She was to her feet, turning to leave when he grabbed her arm, trying to make her sit back down. It reminded her of the way the man in the inn had just grabbed her and it ignited the rage like gasoline to a fire. She brought her fist back, and with all the power she could muster, she sent it flying towards Gendry's face. Her deadly aim hit the mark to perfection, causing her to grab her wounded hand with a shout of pain. Gendry's head jerked to the side as he fell back from the powerful hit.

He had left her. He had abandoned her at the very moment she needed him the most. A disgusting, horrible human being had touched her in places that should have never been touched by anyone but Gendry, and it was all because he was not there. He had watched as she was drug away from him, and he had done nothing to stay with her.

He stared up at her, his nose busted and bleeding, yet there was no sign of anger in his eyes. She saw pure, raw self-hatred in his eyes, because he was thinking the same thing she was. He saw that she blamed him, almost as much as the man that had hurt her.

"Touch me again, and it will be a sword that strikes you instead of a fist," she whispered.

She raised her wrist, ready to tear the bracelet off but found that she couldn't do it. She stared at it, as if just now noticing it for the first time. She could no more break it from her skin than she could forgive Gendry for his abandonment, not in that moment anyway.

Instead, she turned from him and began walking away. Gendry never stopped her, never called her back and she was grateful. Arya walked back to the camp just as the men were coming from the forgotten path. Behind them, they led a large group, all of whom she recognized from the inn. It was the orphans. She ran towards them, seeing that everyone was accounted for. As soon as she saw Hot Pie's bloody face, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, so thankful to see him.

"I'm so sorry, Arya. I didn't think about what I was saying. I—I'm so sorry," he cried.

She squeezed his huge body, shaking her head and saying, "It's not your fault. I'm just glad you're okay."

The Brotherhood made room for the orphans, deciding to keep them in their camp for the night. Most of the girls were scared beyond words. Arya volunteered to help with cleaning the girls' wounds and feeding them a bowl of hot soup. It was well into the night before, finally, someone began tending to her own wounds. When she noticed the girl washing her, she recognized Jeyne. They stared at one another for a moment, speaking without words.

"What you did back there, you saved us all," Jeyne whispered.

After everyone was settled in for the remainder of the night, Arya walked back to her tent. She was dead on her feet with a massive headache. So when she saw Gendry standing at the entrance to her tent, she realized the sight of him did not help calm her as it used to. He slowly looked up at her, watching her approach. She walked right past him without uttering a word, and he did not push her to talk to him. How long he stayed outside her tent, she did not know, for she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next day, as the sun shown high above them, Arya walked out of her tent,still wearing Gendry's shirt. She had not thought to change. After some sleep, her anger had calmed. Though she still felt abandoned, it was not fair to blame him for the attack upon her. If he would have been there with her, she knew he would have gotten himself killed trying to protect her. She had to find him, if just to see his face, see his smile again. It seemed as though everything was slipping away, as if they were being torn a part. The sad thing was, she realized it was themselves doing the tearing. She would not, could not, lose him too. If she had to beat it in to him that she needed him, she would do just that.

"You and me," she whispered to herself.

When she made it to the river, she heard his voice. She saw him, waist deep in water, Hot Pie at his side. They were taking a bath, yet she could not make herself leave. All of the hurt and pain from last night was gone, and she just wanted to be close to him again. As she stepped out to make her presence known, Gendry's words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Everything would have been better had I never met Arya Stark."

Arya turned on her heels, wanting to hear no more.

Chapter 16: He Means to Leave Me Too

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"Why would you say that?"

Gendry looked out over the calm river, his face showing his miserable state. He could feel Hot Pie's eyes burning into him, but he couldn't find it in himself to meet the boy's stare. He couldn't even make himself answer.

"It's not true and you know it!" Hot Pie said heatedly.

"Isn't it? Everything would have been better! Arya would have been better off if I would have never come along!" he spat.

At first, Hot Pie looked confused. Slowly, the words Gendry had spoken to him began to sink in. "When you—when you said that everything would have been better had you not met Arya Stark, you meant it would have been better for her."

Gendry chuckled bitterly. "Before I came to Yoren, two men came to see me, both the Hand of the king...both dead. Yoren, dead. Lommy, dead. Weasel, dead. I'd say I'm fucking bad luck, don't you think? Now, to top it all off, I betrayed Arya. I don't need to be told the details of what happened last night, because I washed the evidence off of her body myself. And all because I wanted to play the fucking hero. I'm no hero, Hot Pie. Not even close!"

"No, you're a craven. You won't even tell her how you feel!" Hot Pie said low.

Gendry jerked his head around, wanting nothing more than to lash out at the boy, but he spoke the truth. He was a craven, one of the worst. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, long breath.

"I'm not good enough for her, Hot Pie. I will never be good enough, because I'm just a bastard. She deserves everything a lord or king could give her. I have nothing to offer her, except myself, and that doesn't seem like a fair trade. I would never be able to give her what she truly wants."

"If that's how you feel, Gendry, then you're right, you don't deserve her," Hot Pie said.

His words stung, but it did little to quench the hatred within him. Arya was young, stubborn, strong-willed. What would happen when she grew older, when she accepted her role as a lady? One day, no matter how hard Arya fought against it, she would have responsibilities that she wouldn't be able to run from. Where would that leave him? When her king brother forces her to marry a lord, what would he do? Would he stand aside and allow it to happen, or would he fight for her? One thing he knew for sure, her brother would never allow them to be together.

"You love her," Hot Pie whispered. It wasn't a question.

It angered him that Hot Pie could read through him like he did. Yes, he loved Arya, loved her like he had never loved anyone before. It was the reason it made this whole situation too much to handle. It was the reason he moved heaven and earth to protect her. It was the reason he had slaved over an anvil just to give her a small piece of her family in the bracelet. But it was also the reason he knew, when the time came, he would let her go so she could have the life she deserved, and not one such as he would give her. A life of always running, always hungry...always in danger.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Gendry said instead.

"Please, I might be young, Gendry, but I'm not stupid. Your face gives too much away when she's around. You two are like magnets, gravitating towards one another. Hell, it almost got you two killed several times before coming here. If you want to bullshit somebody, do it to someone else, because I've seen way too much."

"You're right, you are young. You wouldn't even know love if it slapped you in the face, Hot Pie," Gendry shot back.

The moment he uttered those words, Gendry wished to take them back. At once, he looked away from Hot Pie's face. The guilt he felt was enormous. No amount of water could wash it from him. He thought about Weasel. The girl's face crossed his mind, causing his heart to squeeze.

"Listen, I shouldn't have said that,"he said, low.

Minutes passed before another word was spoken. Gendry's mood turned dark, hating what he had said and knowing there was no way to take it back. Hot Pie was just standing there, watching the ripples in the water. His eyes were glazed over, as if thinking about a lost memory. Gendry wanted to say something else, something to ease the tension, but his words failed him.

"I did love her, but not like that, Gendry. Weasel was too young, but I always thought there would be something possible in the future. You're right, I've never loved someone like I know you love Arya, but I have loved. I know love when I see it," Hot Pie said, his voice cracking.

Gendry sighed heavily. He rubbed his hand over his face, causing little droplets of water to splash on his chest. Hot Pie turned and climbed out of the river. He was glad of it, for it allowed him to stop thinking about his feelings...and discussing them. He didn't want to delve in to how he felt, knowing damn well what he would find. He went to climb out as well, but Hot Pie stopped him.

"Would you have made that bracelet for Weasel? For me?"

He didn't answer, but only stared. Hot Pie shook his head. "I didn't think so," he said.

The walk back to camp was mostly silent. Gendry was lost in his thoughts. He knew it was dangerous to really think about the way he felt. It was right below the surface, and the moment he came to terms with his feelings for Arya, there would be no going back. You are a bastard, he thought bitterly. No matter what you make for her, no matter what you feel, you are still just a baseborn bastard and she a lady...a fucking princess.

By the time they reached camp, Gendry was a bundle of tension and nerves. His face shown his dark mood, so instead of going to find Arya, he headed straight for the forge. No man was made to work today, but he needed something to get his mind off of his thoughts. As soon as he began beating the anvil, he felt the tension slowly ease. His rhythms were long and hard, causing the sensation to run up and down his arms.

"Either you love your work, or you have a heavy mind."

Gendry's head shut up in surprise at who was standing there. Dondarrion stood at the door of the forge watching him with a smile. The man made him feel uncomfortable, but also fascinated. He could feel power radiating off the man.

"There is a lot to be done, milord. The weapons have dulled with use and need sharpening for the men. If I am to be here as your guest, I can at least pay the kindness with my work."

Dondarrion walked towards Gendry. He went back to hammering the anvil, just to have an excuse not to have to look him in those dead eyes.

"Do you understand our purpose, Gendry? Do you understand what we, the Brotherhood, do?"

Gendry hesitated, the hammer raised in the air. "You protect the ones who cannot protect themselves," he answered.

Dondarrion nodded his head. "When Lord Stark sent me to look for the fugitive Clegane, I knew only one thing and that was serving my king. The moment the king perished, my job was forfeit and I lost everything...including my life. Most people would say that I was lucky Thoros was there to resurrect me, though he did not do it on purpose. I cannot say for certain that I agree with those who think me lucky. My men and I needed a purpose, a reason to stand as true men. We came across the Riverlands in a time when they were being butchered and raped. It was here that we found our purpose."

Gendry did not respond, not quite knowing where the man was going with his words. He hit the anvil a few more times before Dondarrion spoke again.

"We, as men need purpose, Gendry. It is the reason we wake in the morning. When a man loses purpose, he loses his will to live. So, I ask you, what is your purpose?" When Gendry did not answer, he added, "Is your purpose to follow behind a young princess in hope that one day you could possible change your status high enough to fit your feelings?"

Gendry looked up sharply, his anger showing through his eyes, but he hid his feelings the instant they showed. As softly as he could, he laid the hammer down and turned his attention fully towards Dondarrion. Now, they had reached the point in all of this.

"My purpose is to create things, to restore items to their original use. It's all I have ever known, all I want to do. I know who and what I am, sir."

"And what of Arya? What is your purpose there?"

Gendry clenched his teeth, not wanting to talk about Arya to this man. For a moment, he contemplated storming out, grabbing Arya and Hot Pie and leaving. He owed this man no explanation, no matter his hospitality.

Dondarrion's smile fell from his face, noticing Gendry's angered look. "I want you to understand, I am not trying to offend you in any way, Gendry. I think your work is flawless, the best I've seen in these parts. You would be a great addition to the Brotherhood. We are in desperate need of a blacksmith."

"So that's it...that's what this is all about?" Gendry said, snorting.

"I'm offering you an opportunity to stay with us, work with us. I may be an outlaw, but I am still a lord by law. I have the means to knight you, Gendry, if you swear allegiance to us. You would no longer be just a bastard. I would make you Ser Gendry, of the Hollow Hill."

For one brief moment, Gendry felt his heart soar. Dondarrion was offering knighthood to a bastard like him, who had nothing. But as suddenly as the thought crept into his mind, Arya's face broke through. He would have to choose to stay here, choose to leave her. He did not know if he could do that.

"Her brother is king of the North, Gendry. No matter what you have done to protect her, King Robb would never allow a union between the two of you. To him, you are as low as they come," Dondarrion said gently.

Gendry turned away from the man, hating that he knew his thoughts. He thought he was doing a good job of covering his feelings, but Dondarrion seemed to know everything. He imagined himself standing before Arya's king brother. He imagined asking the king for Arya's hand. Laughter exploded in his mind, laughter from the king and all of his men. He would be laughed right out of the king's sight. Still, anything was possible. It didn't matter that they had fought, that she wasn't speaking to him, he had promised Arya he would go to Winterfell with her. He would become a blacksmith there, work his way up to owning his own land and having something to show for his life. Arya was different, had always been different, so perhaps her brother would allow her to follow her heart, and perhaps her heart would choose him.

"No thanks," he ground out.

He heard Dondarrion sigh, but did not turn around to face the man.

"She is engaged to be married, son. When the war is over, King Robb will allow the joining of his sister with one from House Frey. The contract has been signed and sealed."

If Dondarrion would have punched him in the stomach, it would never have had the affect that his words had just had. Gendry could not think, could not speak. Over and over in his mind, he heard the man's words echo. Engaged, he thought. He felt his world come crashing down upon him, and in that very moment, there was no way to deny what to call his feelings. The very thought of Arya with another man caused such a rage within him and it scared him. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was in love with her, and there was no way to deny it. Perhaps, he had always been in love with her. Beautiful, beautiful Arya, his Arya, engaged to another man. There were no words for the pain he felt, no words for the loss of something he never got to have in the first place. Arya...engaged. His head began to lower, as if a great weight was put upon it. So, this is what it must feel like to have your heart ripped out of you, he thought.

"Are you sure?" he managed to whisper.

"I am positive."

Gendry's shoulders had sank with every passing second, but he fought against it and straightened himself back up. He could not lose it, not in front of this man...not in front of anyone. He was stronger, tougher than this. The only problem was that he had never felt this sharp a pain before. It radiated from the top of his head to the soles of his feet and everywhere in between.

"I promised her I would go back to Winterfell with her," Gendry said, his voice weak.

"I am sure that King Robb would allow that, as long as he doesn't see you as a threat to the contract with the Freys. But, of what I have seen of you and the girl, there would be no denying you as a real threat. One day, she will marry the Frey boy and leave Winterfell. Am I to take it that you would go with them? Could you possible make that kind of decision just to be near her? Think about it, boy. Think about what will happen to you!" Dondarrion pleaded. "The day will come when you will be nothing in her mind but a boy who protected her on a dangerous road. She will never be able to see you as anything other than a bastard."

Gendry closed his eyes, wanting to shut out what Dondarrion was telling him, because the words were crawling their way into his heart. They were shadowing what he knew of Arya, knew of the kind of person she was. His body was so tensed it began to shake.

"She is young, Gendry. But she will grow into a woman, a lady, and when that happens, she will do what she must. Starks are bound by family, loyal to upholding the Stark name. Arya will do nothing to cause shame upon her family's name."

It was in that one statement that Gendry knew Dondarrion had him. He thought of the emotions she had at the bracelet, at seeing her family's direwolves. No matter how stubborn, how rebellious, Arya was, she was still of noble blood, a noble house that chose loyalty above all else. In the end, it would not matter what was between them, Arya would do whatever her brother bid her do for the good of the family. How could he have been so stupid to think otherwise?

"You have no last name, no money...not even land in your possession. You have no past, and if you go down this road, you will have no future. Go to Winterfell, and everything you could become as a blacksmith will go up in smoke. King Robb will turn you out as soon as Arya's back is to Winterfell headed towards the Twins. I see how much you enjoy your trade, and I can supply you with the chance to grow and become something amazing, Gendry. Stay with us. Let Princess Arya go back to her family and marry her lord." Dondarrion paused briefly, letting everything he said sink in. Gendry fought against the feeling of tears in his eyes, blinked them back so they wouldn't fall. He fought against the lump in his throat, swallowing the sensation away.

He balled his hands up into fists, wishing nothing more than to be able to hit something, hit something until it felt the pain he did. How did everything come to this? How did it turn out so horrible? He was happy in King's Landing. He was happy being an armorers apprentice. He never asked for this, never asked for his heart to be ripped out of his chest in such a way as this. He was angry, furious, at the injustice of it all. He turned on Dondarrion, his eyes staring holes into the undead man.

"I can give you a knighthood, Gendry. I can make you a blacksmith. I can take you under my wing, so that one day, you will be powerful! I swear to you, give your allegiance to the Brotherhood, become a sworn brother, and I will give you everything you need to change King Robb's mind. The war will be long, with no end in sight. It is possible that you would be able to stay King Robb's hand long enough to sway his mind. I cannot guarantee you this, but it is the best chance you have. Do not believe my words, and leave with the girl. Years from now, on her wedding day, when you stand there and watch her marry someone that isn't you, remember this day and the choices you had."

Gendry could hear no more. He didn't want to hear of choices or of Arya marrying another. Did she know she was betrothed? She had kept secrets from him before, but would she have allowed herself to keep this a secret? He stormed out of the forge, leaving Dondarrion in his wake. He stormed out into the sun. His hands came up immediately to shield his eyes, but he knew where he was going.

Soon, he was surrounded by the cool forest. The voices of the men were muffled, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He came to a halt in the quiet forest, his eyes looking around hurriedly for something to swing at. He had to let the anger out, had to let go of the fury. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Arya in a wedding dress, saw another man at her side. He grabbed at his hair, pulling as if he meant to tear it right out of his head. Instead, his fist came forward, as hard as it could, and made contact with a large tree.

The pain was immediate. The blood flowed through cuts made from the rough bark, yet he relished in the pain. He brought his skin up to his eyes, watching the red liquid drip out. How was it that just days ago,he was giving the bracelet to Arya, both of them so happy. But now, he felt it all slipping away. Engaged, he thought again. He would never be able to compete with a lord. He had nothing to give Arya. He had no name of his own, no money, no land. Dondarrion had been right about that. All he had to give was himself and his protection. Would that be enough to persuade Arya to shame her family? Could he even put her in that kind of position?

"No," he whispered miserably.

Gendry leaned his head against the tree as his thoughts overtook him. Everything he had promised Arya, everything he wanted, was all for nothing now. He could not go with her, knowing that one day she would leave him behind. He was not a dog that followed its master blindly. He would not go just to be with her for whatever time he could be with her. It was either all or nothing with him. He would not be pitied by the people of Winterfell as she rode off into the sunset with her new husband, nor would he be able to remain in a place where every corner he turned would be a constant reminder of the one thing he didn't have.

"Gendry?"

He tried to hide the flinch that voice caused within him, but it shook his entire body. Arya stood behind him, but he did not have the strength to turn and face her. He wasn't sure he could ever face her again. Instead, he kept his head on the bark of the tree, his eyes closed tightly.

"Gendry, we need to talk," she said, anger in her voice.

He heard her walk towards him and as soon as her hand touched his back, he moved from her completely. He walked away, heading further into the forest. He knew it wouldn't be enough to make her leave him alone, but he had to think. He had to get as far away from her to think everything through.

"Oh, I see," she spat. "I heard your little conversation with Hot Pie. You think your life would have been easier if you hadn't met me? Well, just so you know, one of my father's men has found me. He's taking me to my mother and brother in two days. You can either come or stay. I would hate to make your life any harder!"

Gendry closed his eyes, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. You cannot leave me, he thought, but did not dare speak the words. She wasn't his, had never been his. This whole time, she had belonged to another. His body began to shake, and then suddenly the tears were released. He sobbed into the tree, very aware that Arya was watching him, but could not find it in him to care. In this moment, he was not stubborn. In this moment, he was not bull-headed. He was a desperate man with only one option.

The moment Arya's hand touched his arm, he lost it. He grabbed her hand from his arm, throwing it off, none too gently. The momentum pushed her back and she lost her balance, falling to the ground. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and with an emotion she had never looked upon him with before...fear. He could hear her bracelet jingling with her attempt to stand up. It sounded deafening to his ears. When she was on her feet, she took one last look at him before turning and walking away. He watched her until she was gone.

Slowly, he slid down the tree, until he was on the ground. He pushed his knees up to his chest, resting the back of his head on the tree. How could he do what he knew he had to? There was no way he could watch her ride off without him. They had been together too long, seen too many things. They were bound by something stronger than anything he had ever known, yet there was no place for them to be together. There was no situation that would make their lives one that would be shared together. He was a bastard. A fucking bastard, he thought. It was the first time he had ever cursed his mother for opening her legs to some son of a bitch that never gave two shits about her or the bastard child born to her. He had always wanted to know who his father had been. Now, he wanted to drive a knife through the man's heart.

He sat in the forest, until night fell and became early morning. No one came looking for him like they had with Arya. He was nothing...he was nobody. Gendry got to his feet, his body unsteady, and began walking back towards camp. He had no strength left, so the moment he came into the clearing and saw Arya sleeping on the soft ground, he fell to his knees. She was not in her tent, sleeping on her soft bed. She had chosen the hard, cold ground. Her arm was stretched out for her head to rest upon as her chest moved up and down steadily. It caused such sadness within him when he realized she had stayed here, because she knew he was still out there.

When he could muster the courage, he got to his feet and walked towards her. She lifted so easily in his arms as he carried her back towards her tent. Her arms were around his neck, her scent filling his nose and driving him crazy with loss. He could not deny how perfect she felt in his arms. It was the most beautiful and heartbreaking feeling he had ever known.

He laid her in her bed and straightened up to go, but her hand reached out and stopped him. Gendry looked down into her sleep-filled eyes. "I don't care what happened earlier. We can discuss it in the light of the sun, tomorrow. But tonight, please, stay with me," she whispered.

For a few moments, he did not move, just watched her. It was then that it hit him how badly he could have hurt her. His shaking hand came up, taking a piece of her short hair and tucking it gently behind her ear. He knew he could not deny her anything, so he laid down beside her, wrapping his arms tightly around her, bringing her as close to him as he could. Her head rested on his chest, as her hands grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Arya sighed in contentment and went back to sleep. Their routine would end after this night. The thought crashed upon him, trying to drown him deep in his sorrow. He clung to Arya, as a dying man would cling to life.

There would be no sleep for Gendry. His eyes never closed. His body never relaxed. He stared at nothing for hours, his mind going in unstoppable circles. Dondarrion's voice grew loud in his thoughts as they fought to take control of his mind from Arya's voice. On and on, the war raged within him. It wasn't until the first rays of the sun were showing that he knew what he had to do. He climbed out of her bed before she awoke. He stood there a few moments, watching her.

"I love you," he whispered. "I will always love you." With that, he turned and walked away from her as she slept. For the rest of the morning, he stayed hidden in the forge. Arya never came looking for him, and he had never felt more relieved.

The members of the Brotherhood were sitting around the camp, enjoying a lunch of cooked deer and mushrooms. When Gendry came to within sight of the men, he calmed his nerves. He would need every bit of strength he had within him to do what he had to. He looked for Dondarrion and when he found him, his heart sank a little more. Arya was sitting beside him and another man, all three deep in discussion. For him to do what he had to do, she would be so close to him. That thought almost caused him to turn around, but he knew he could not.

As if Dondarrion sensed him, his face turned from Arya's to his. For a few moments, the men just stared at each other, but finally, Gendry gave him one single nod. He saw the excitement and relief in the man's eyes immediately. Arya followed the direction Dondarrion was looking and showed her surprise at seeing it was Gendry he was staring at, but Gendry dared not look at her. It would take just one glance and he would turn and walk away.

Instead, Dondarrion stood and walked towards the circle where his men sat. All of them stilled at once, their eyes turning to their leader. He did not move, did not utter a word. The camp grew deathly quiet. Gendry knew Dondarrion was showing him that in order to make this decision, Gendry would have to go all the way. He would not meet him in the middle. It was his choice to walk to the man and kneel before him, swearing his allegiance. But at first, his feet would not move and he made the horrible decision of looking at Arya. Her face showed her confusion, but her eyes showed her fear. Did she know what he was to do? Could she feel it? Did she even care at this point?

He made himself take that first step toward Dondarrion. He made his leg move towards the circle and further away from his promises to Arya. Gendry forced himself to concentrate on every step, concentrate on every inch he moved. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hot Pie. He never looked at him fully, but he could tell the boy was shaking his head, as if to tell him to stop this madness. Even he knew what he had chosen.

What seemed like eternity was just a few minutes, and he found himself standing before Dondarrion. There was sadness in his dead eyes mixed with the excitement. The man understood what this was costing Gendry.

"Gendry..." Arya called, but he gave her no time to speak anymore.

On one knee he fell, his head bowed low, as he said the words that broke every promise. He said the words that shattered everything that he and Arya built between one another. She was inches away from him, her eyes growing wide in understanding. Though his voice rang out strong and loud, he could hear none of it over the screaming in his head.

"I wish to stay and smith for you, milord, if you will have me. I pledge my allegiance to the Brotherhood, and will hold honor to these men as my brothers. I will serve the realm, our gods and my brothers." I'm so, so sorry, Arya, he thought as his words flowed from his parched throat.

Chapter 17: In The End We Shatter Like Glass

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

He was bent on one knee, his head bowed before the man. Arya's heart was racing, her breath barely exiting her mouth. The words he spoke were like daggers piercing her chest straight to her heart. She wanted to scream, wanted to swing her small arms at him. Why was he doing this? Why was he saying those words? He meant to leave her too. Everyone she knew had left her and now she could add Gendry's name to the list. She had never hated him so much as she did in that moment.

Dondarrion's sword touched Gendry's shoulder and then the other. It happened in slow motion, all the more to taunt her. Her hands balled into fists so tights she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. This wasn't right, wasn't the way of it, yet as Gendry stood he stood knighted by Lord Beric Dondarrion. In one single moment, he was lost to her.

Slowly, as if time itself began to still, Arya watched as Gendry turned his head towards her, his blue eyes looking intently at her. She did not flinch, though she felt the feeling rise in her body. She wanted to look away from him, wanted to scream and cry. She decided not to give him the satisfaction of breaking her. He was the last piece of goodness she had, the last thing keeping her sanity together, but that was all for nothing now.

His mouth came open as if to speak, but she turned from him then. He called her name, yet she did not turn back around. If she so much as looked at him in that moment, she would fall to the ground in a fit of hysterical sobs, and well, that wasn't her. She was stronger than that. The blood of the wolves ran through her veins and no stupid, bull-headed boy was going to make her feel weak. He wanted to stay with the Brotherhood Without Banners, so be it. It was his choice. She, on the other hand, had a destination. Her family was waiting for her and she would be there with them as soon as possible.

Arya's next thought caused her to stumble, though she tried to hide it. She had made plans to introduce Gendry to her Brother Robb. To her mother, she would have proudly stood beside him as they exchanged their introductions. How very stupid of her to think that would happen.

"Arya!"

The sound of his voice calling her name produced the first of the wretched tears in her eyes. She swiped at them angrily, trying to calm her emotions. He was right behind her and any moment his hand would shoot out to turn her towards him. She had to keep walking before that happened…before she sobbed into his arms.

"Arya, I know you hear me! You aren't a deaf…turn around," Gendry said, catching her arm at last.

The night at the inn, when she had cut the Bloody Mummer's throat, she had kept the small blade. It was a poor substitute for Needle, but it was all that she had at the moment. When he grabbed her, she was ready. As soon as she felt the motion of turning towards Gendry, the blade was before her. She pointed it at his chest, the sharp tip of the blade sat easily on his shirt. Arya knew the look on his face would play in her nightmares for many moons to come. Pouring from his blue eyes, a look of such sadness, of such shock, looked back at her. She had never raised her blade to him, never showed anything but the deepest trust in him, yet here they stood.

Gendry took a step towards her, the blade cutting through the outer part of his shirt. Even now, even with the blade so close to drawing blood, he trusted that she would not harm him. What was she doing? This was Gendry. This was the person that had stood by her side through night and day. This was the person who made the horrors bearable to go through. This was the one person that when she felt most alone he would show her that she wasn't. Most of the time, he didn't have to say a word. The feeling of his presence was enough to calm the demons screaming in her head. Yet now, everything had changed. Everything had changed, because she knew that nothing mattered anymore, because Gendry would be gone. In just a few minutes, the demons would finally win their battle and consume her in their lust for rage and insanity.

"Is this the way of it then?" Gendry whispered.

She could hear his anger, but there was also sadness in his words. Her hand dropped to her side barely able to hold on to small blade. Arya's eyes looked away from Gendry's face, not able to see those raw emotions anymore. Instead, she stared at the hole she had produced in his shirt just moments ago. Just like that hole in his shirt, she could feel themselves tearing as well. The demons in her head mocked it with sounds of fabric ripping. She wasn't sure if they were mocking her lost friendship, or her broken heart.

Lost in her own misery, she became aware of Gendry's arms around her too late. Only when he held her tightly to him did she come back to herself. Her arms came up to hold him around his mid-section, but she found she did not have the strength. Instead, they came before her. With what little strength she had left, she pushed Gendry from her. He staggered back, his face crumbling at her rejection.

"If you want to be a knight and get your head chopped off…what do I care!" she said harshly.

Gendry flinched at her words, flinched at her anger. His jaw tightened, and his chiseled face grew dark with anger.

"You might regret saying that one day. Be careful what you hope for, Arya. It just might come to pass!" he said low.

She raised her eyes to his. The parts of her that were only for Gendry died within her. Her face became void of any emotions. She stared at him, as if he were a stranger, never before seen by her eyes, for that was all he was now...just a stranger. The best part of her, the part that was Gendry, blew away, like leaves blowing from a tree in the wind.

"No…I won't regret a thing," she said, her voice dead.

Finally, the moment she had been dreading came to pass. In his blue eyes, as blue as the ocean water, tears formed. He looked away from her, trying to hide what he was feeling, but it was enough for Arya to see what her words had done. She had not only killed that part of Gendry inside of her, but she realized she had killed that part of her inside of Gendry. It seemed death followed her in every fashion of her life.

"There was no other way," he whispered.

She scoffed at him. "There's always other ways, you craven!" she spat. "You and me, huh? How fucking dare you ever make me believe there was a you and me."

Arya couldn't stop the tears then, wouldn't have even if she wanted to. They fell from her eyes in an angry rush. Her breath came out choppy, as if she had something lodged in her throat.

"You...promised...me," she chocked out.

"Arya, please," Gendry said, taking a step towards her. His arms were out, as if he meant to hold her again. On his face, his tears fell as well. "I have a chance here, among these men, that I would not have anywhere else. I am a knight of the Hollow Hill, and soon I will be a blacksmith. Tell me if I would have went to Winterfell with you that I would have had that? Tell me your king brother would have knighted me to stand beside him in battle. Tell me that I would have had a place amongst your blacksmith!"

Arya swallowed with difficulty, knowing she could not promise him any of that. She did not know what Robb would have done with him. She only knew that he would have been with her.

"You would have been with me!" she screamed her thoughts.

Gendry's face crumbled even more, his eyes only wet slits. "I would not even have had that," he groaned.

"Because you didn't want to fight for it!"

With that, she turned on her heels and went towards her tent. She could hear him behind her, following her. She threw the blade on her bed and began gathering her things. She was supposed to leave in the morning to travel to the Twins to join her mother and brother, but she wanted to leave right then. Arya needed space, needed to be as far away from Gendry as possible. So when he grabbed her arm to turn her around again, she didn't think but just acted. Before she could stop herself, she slapped him across the face. His head jerked to the side as it did the night she had punched him.

"Did that make you feel better?" he asked her.

"Not even close," she responded.

He turned his tear-stained face back towards her, his cheek growing red where she had slapped him. Would she ever be able to forget the look upon his face? Would she ever be able to forget what true anguish looked like when worn by Gendry? He reached his hand up, bringing it towards her face. Gods, he was stubborn. Had he not learned she didn't want him to touch her? But when his palm touched her cheek, Arya did not fight him. Her eyes closed on their own, knowing this was the last touch he would ever give her. The thought crashed upon her with such force that she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his mid-section. Her tears soaked his shirt, but she did not feel ashamed.

"Please, Gendry—please don't do this to us!" she begged.

He grabbed her face, crashing his lips upon hers. Arya could taste his salty tears. He moved his lips to her ear, kissing as softly as he could. "I swear it, Arya. I swear with everything that I am this is not the end of us. I swear no matter where you are, where you go, I will find you again and when I do, I will be worthy enough to stand before your brother and win the heart of his sister! I swear it on my life!" he whispered fervently.

She moved her head away, staring in to his eyes. "Is that was this is about? You think you aren't good enough for me? By the gods, Gendry, a knight's title doesn't make you worthy! What makes you worthy is here," she hissed, pointing at his heart. "What makes you worthy is your unmoving loyalty to us, to what we are. I do not need a knight. I do not need a lord. What I need is you!"

"This world doesn't work like you, Arya! Things are expected of you, things I cannot give you. I will bring shame to you. I will bring shame to the Stark name. Is that what you want?"

"I beg of you not to do this," she said, ignoring his question, for she knew what the answer would be. "You and me, let us flee from this place right here, right now! If you care for me at all, then take me away as you took me away from Harrenhall."

He tried to reach for her again, but she knocked his hand away. "No!" she breathed. "Take me away."

Gendry's arms dropped to his side and he turned from her. His shoulders were heaving underneath the strain of his emotions. "I can't do that," he said so low she had to strain to hear him.

For the second time that day, Gendry crushed her hopes. "THEN GO!" she screamed in fury. "GO AWAY FROM ME!"

Arya raised her fists and began hitting Gendry in the back. He turned on her swiftly, but never tried to stop the blows. He took what she gave him, every blow as hard as the last. She beat into his chest, until she was exhausted. She slid to the floor, holding her aching hands to her chest. When Gendry took a step towards her, her furious eyes looked up at him and he froze.

"Get out of my sight..bastard!"

Gendry didn't move for what seemed like hours. He was frozen in place, his wide-eyes staring down at Arya. The blood ran from his face at the name she had called him, for she had never used that name on him before. Arya had never seen so many emotions on one's face before, flying through his eyes like the clouds in the sky. He looked away from her, looking around the room as if he were lost. He made a chocking sound, sounding so loud in the silence, before turning and storming out of her tent.

Long after Gendry had left her, she sat on the cold ground, her eyes staring off at nothing as she tried to get a hold of herself. She tried to make herself understand that he was lost to her, that he wouldn't be going with her when she left. No amount of time could make the thought easy. No amount of time could make her heart not feel as if it were ripping slowly. Gendry had done this to them. He had abandoned and betrayed her.

She finally staggered to her feet, looking around to collect her things to leave. The silence was so loud in her ears that she feared her eardrums would burst. For a moment, she felt as if she were the last person living, not a single soul around. Was this what it felt like to be truly alone? She looked down at her bracelet, a pain hitting her square in the chest. Raising it to her eyes, she sobbed openly. Long, loud cries fell from her mouth as she realized what she had to do next.

After she was able to get herself together, she exited the tent, begging the gods to not let her see Gendry. She stayed as far away from the forge as she could, but there was no ignoring the tall building. It called to her, if only for what it held inside. Arya closed her eyes, breathing hard as she passed it and prayed she wouldn't hear his voice. What she did hear was the sound of a hammer hitting the anvil so hard it sounded as though thunder was shaking the sky. She knew it was Gendry, knew the sound as well as she knew the sound of his voice.

She passed the men without looking at them. They moved from her path seeing that she would run them over if they stepped in her way. There was only one person she wanted to talk with, only one man that would take her from this hell. When she saw him, he was talking with Dondarrion. Arya marched straight to him, ignoring the leader and the man who she felt was responsible for Gendry's actions almost as much as Gendry was responsible for his own actions. When the two men saw her coming, their conversation stopped. They turned to her, waiting to see what she needed.

"We are leaving tonight, Harwin."

For a moment, he looked taken aback. "Milady, may I ask what the hurry is? We are scheduled to leave by the first light of the morning. It is much safer that way than traveling by night."

Arya shook her head, "We leave as soon as you and the men are ready! I don't care about waiting for the morning. I want out of here this instant!" she seethed.

"Arya, Harwin is..." he began, but she turned her angered eyes to him and said, "Thank you for your hospitality, milord, but I could care less what you think!" Arya ground out.

"He has a right to a better life as well, Arya. He knows he can have that here," Dondarrion said softly.

Arya snarled at the man, not wanting to hear his poisonous words. What did a walking dead man know anyway? He did not know her. He did not really know Gendry. Dondarrion did not realize that by seperating them, it was as if he were separating a part of her body, one that, without it with her, caused immeasurable pain. She turned, heading back to her tent.

"Tonight, I go with or without your help!" she called over her shoulder.

As soon as she was back in her tent, she collapsed on her bed, feeling as if she hadn't slept in days. Her stomach was in knots, her head pounding against her skull. She rubbed her temples, begging for the pain to stop so she could think straight. It seemed, though she suspected her mind was playing tricks on her, that she could still hear the noise from the forge. It's rhythms matched the pounding in her head. Slowly, she breathed in deeply, letting the air go slowly from her mouth.

"Arya?"

She looked up, watching as Hot Pie shuffled in. He looked around, uncomfortable, as if he weren't sure if he was supposed to enter or not. He slowly looked at her, his face showing his sadness. "It's not supposed to be like this," he whispered.

Arya closed her eyes, lowering her head. "Yeah, well go and tell him that," she answered.

"But it's as much your fault as it is his!"

She looked up at him sharply. How dare he! How dare he blame this on her too. She wasn't the one that was staying. "My fault? How is any of this my fault?" she asked angrily.

"You are so ate up with anger you can't even see what Gendry's doing. Instead of facing this and finding a way for you two to stay together, you're running away!"

Arya jumped from her bed, taking a step towards Hot Pie. The boy never flinched, finding courage in believing what he said was the truth. He never cowered away from her as she advanced on him. "I'm not running away. It was always known I wouldn't stay here long. My mother and brother are waiting for me. He is the one that has chosen to break our promise! He is the one that chooses to remain as I leave!" she breathed, her finger pointing towards the tent's exit.

Hot Pie sighed, the moments passing in silence between them. She watched him look back, towards the exit. "He loves you, you know," It was the faintest of words, yet they exploded around her like a wildfire. The pain intensified in her head.

"I guess sometimes love isn't enough," she said, her voice cracking.

Hot Pie turned his back on her, heading to leave. Before he disappeared outside, he hesitated at the door, turning towards Arya once more. "I'm glad Weasel isn't here to see the two of you. She wanted us to be just like you and Gendry, wanted it so much that that's all she talked about some days. She wanted me to protect her like he protected you. You're wrong Arya, and even a girl Weasel's age knew more than you about love and how it is the only thing that matters."

Arya looked away from his pained face. The tears came back with a vengeance at the thought of Weasel. I hope one day Hot Pie looks at me like Gendry looks at you, like you're the only one worth looking at, she thought, hearing Weasel's words and voice in her head.

"You are welcome to come with me Hot Pie. My brother would love to taste your Pies, I'm sure," she said to change the subject.

She heard him sigh. "I'm staying here, Arya. I've gotten to know Jeyne the past few days and she told me of her needs in the inn. She offered me a job working in the kitchens if I was interested. I kind of like the idea of working with the orphans. They all remind me of Weasel," he answered softly.

Arya was surprised at how much that hurt. Though she and Hot Pie had started off on the wrong foot, she had come to think of him as a friend. They had been to hell and back, so to understand he was leaving her as well only caused her pain to rise. Though a part of her wasn't surprised, the knowledge that he would rather stay here than with her stung.

"Then it's time to say goodbye. I'm leaving in a few short hours," she said against the lump in her throat.

"No," Hot Pie responded. Arya's brow furrowed as she stared at him. "You are supposed to leave tomorrow, so tomorrow is when I will say goodbye."

With that, Hot Pie turned and left her tent. Silence crept in around her, filling the void where she wished for Gendry's voice, where she wished for Hot Pie's laughter. She hated the silence, hated it so much she wanted to scream just to shut it up. For in the silence, the voices in her head spoke of things her heart could not deal with. They spoke of rejection, of betrayal. They spoke of hatred and revenge. And it was in those silent hours that past that Arya truly knew what it meant to be on her own. The independence that she had craved for turned out to be a tent filled with deafening silence. For the first time in her life, she envied Sansa. She envied her for her reliance on her dreams. Sansa had always been the one that knew her knight was waiting out there somewhere for her, and one day he would come to her. If she was more like her sister, Arya knew she would rise from the bed and go in search for Gendry, beg him to forgive her anger and hold her to him. But she wasn't like Sansa and she knew she would not seek him out.

"Milady, may I come in?"

It was a few hours later that Arya looked over towards the entrance as Harwin walked in. He bowed to her, but she didn't have the strength to correct him, to tell him she hated the bowing. Instead, she watched him with tired eyes. He watched her for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something he wasn't sure she would like, but instead, he cleared his throat and said, "The horses are ready, milady, if you still wish to leave. Again, I implore you to reconsider this and stay until the morning, but it is your decision."

"Tonight," she said. It was the only word she could speak.

He bowed once more, turned and walked out. Arya stood from her bed, looking around to gather her things when she realized nothing here was hers. She owned nothing except what little clothes were lying on the bed. The only other thing she owned was the bracelet on her wrist. She reached down, unclasping the bracelet. She would leave it on the bed for it to be returned to Gendry. She studied the beautiful creation, the beautiful direwolves, and turned it over to look inside. The words, Gendry's and her words, stared up at her, as if in accusation of something. She brought it up to her lips, kissing it softly, for she knew she could not part with it. With shaking hands, she put the bracelet back on, Gendry's words lying at her pulse-point. Arya finally commanded her feet to move, walking out into the dusk of the day.

As soon as she saw what was before her, she froze. The men of the Brotherhood stood in two lines, each one looking in her direction. When she passed them, they bowed their head low, wishing her a safe journey. Each man, she looked in the eye. Arya wanted to say something, a show of thanks for their respect, but she could not form words to speak. Each face she came upon, she desperately wanted to see his blue eyes, but each time she felt the disappointment pierce her heart. None of the men were Gendry.

When she made it to her horse, she hesitated to climb up. Behind her, she knew the forge stood. Would he be there if she turned around? Did she want him to be there? Yes, she thought. She wanted him to be there. She wanted to see him one more time, to burn into her memory his face. She wanted Hot Pie to be standing beside him. But most of all, she wanted him to push his way towards her, push his way towards her to keep her here. Arya wanted him to fight for her, to come and take her from this horse before she could leave. But when she turned her head to look, the forge stood empty. There was nothing there but the building itself. Neither Gendry nor Hot Pie could be seen.

"Do you need help, milady?" one of the men asked.

Arya shook her head, climbing upon the horse. She did not trust herself to speak. She took the reigns in her hands, closing her eyes to get her emotions under control. Her caravan consisted of eight men, and as they turned their horses in the direction of the Twins, Arya followed them. She forced herself not to look back. Gendry would not be there. He would never be there. Harrenhall had tried to kill them, but did not succeed. The Brotherhood without Banners succeeded in saving them, but shattered them at the same time. Arya could not deny the irony of it all.

"Why are we going to the Twins and not Riverrun?" Arya asked some time later.

Harwin looked over at her, his face barely visible in the darkness. The eight men carried torches to light their way, and Arya knew what danger she was putting them in, but she needed to be as far away from the Brotherhood's camp as possible. This was the only way, to travel in the night. She could feel her mother and brother close, could feel them reaching out to her in desperation.

"I will allow your brother to tell you the full details, but they are there for the wedding of your uncle to one of the Frey women. The alliance between the Starks and Freys is strained at best. Your brother has made this union to try and build relations back. The wedding is in three days."

"A wedding, how lovely," Arya said, sarcasm dripping from her mouth.

"It will not be just any wedding, milady. When you learn of what has unfolded between your family and the Freys, you will understand of its importance."

"They know I am coming, right?"

Harwin nodded his head. "I sent the raven out myself. I received one of the fastest replies I can remember. Your mother is beside herself with her joy and your king brother has sent some of his own men out to meet us as we come closer. Pretty soon, we will grow to two dozen strong."

And Arya found that Harwin was correct. On the second day of their travel, a group of men holding the Stark banner rode towards them. Excitement filled her body as she saw the direwolf on the flag. These men were home. These men represented Winterfell. Each man welcomed her with a bow of their head. They positioned themselves around her, taking her closer to the Twins, closer to her mother and brother.

As the sun slowly gave up its hold on the sky above, the Twins came into view. Arya slowly turned her head to look behind her. The man riding right behind her smiled, thinking she was looking at him, but she was looking through him to a place that was no longer in sight. She was looking towards a place hidden by the trees. She was looking towards the place were Gendry was and she felt the pain immediately. Was he thinking about her? Did he even notice her absence?

"We carry with us King Robb's sister, Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell!" one of the men shouted, announcing their arrival to the guards that watched the entrance into the Twins.

Arya turned back around as they galloped over the enormous landscape. She desperately searched for the two faces she longed to see. At first, she recognized no one and for a moment, she feared it had been a trap. She feared that she had been set up to come here, only to be taken hostage. As soon as she looked towards the entrance to the castle, the worry faded. Her beautiful mother stood there watching. Even from here, Arya could see Catelyn Stark's tear-filled smile. The woman began to run towards the men, towards her daughter. Arya pulled the reigns on her own horse, slowing down and climbing from her horse before the beast stopped.

"Arya!" she heard Robb shout her name.

He was running out of the castle, his long legs catching up with their mother. Even in his eyes, she could see the glistening of tears. There were here, both of them. As she fell into her mother's arms, Arya could do nothing but cry. She cried for her loss, for the loss of Gendry, but she also cried for her gain, for finally, her mother and brother were holding her after all this time.

Chapter 18: Reunions and Loss

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Catelyn grabbed her daughter's face. From the top of her forehead to the bottom of her chin, she kissed Arya. Tears streamed down her face as he lips parted in a smile that rivaled the sun. Arya clung to her mother, as if she feared by letting her go she would disappear. They both fell to their knees on the long bridge that held the two large towers of the Twins together. Both were sobbing openly, not caring if they were seen or heard.

"My daughter, my daughter," Catelyn whispered through her sobs.

Robb was not to be outdone as he crashed into Catelyn and Arya, wrapping his arms around both mother and sister. His lips went to Arya's hair, kissing her as the tears fell from his eyes as well. He was laughing and saying Arya's name over and over, as if she had just risen from the dead. In a way, Arya thought that that's exactly what it felt like to them. She took one arm from around her mother, bringing it around Robb to hold him closer to her. All three sat on the bridge, their laughter and tears rising in a song of relief and happiness.

Catelyn looked at Arya, her eyes red and swollen, but her smile never faltered. "Your hair," she whispered, as she tugged at the end of one short strand of hair.

"Safer to travel if I looked like a boy," Arya answered.

Her mother nodded her head in agreement. "I still see my beautiful daughter, though."

Robb caressed Arya's cheek, turning her attention towards him. She had never seen him in such a state as he was now. He had only ever been the brother that picked on her, though she always knew he loved her. She knew it more now than she ever had before. She studied him for a moment, seeing the boy she remembered had given way to the man he was now. His hair was longer, still dark and curly. His face had changed as well. The boyish looks had melted from his face, giving him a look of power. He did look like a king.

"You're alive," he whispered to her.

She nodded her head slowly, reaching out to him. Catelyn gave up her hold on Arya, so that she and Robb could hold one another fully. Still, she refused to take her hand off her daughter, not even for a moment. Her hand lay lightly on Arya's back as Robb took her into his arms. Arya closed her eyes, feeling Robb's body shake with his emotions. In her ear, she heard Robb thanking the gods for bringing her safely to him.

Once he finally managed to let her go, Arya looked from her mother to her brother, questions rising in her mind to ask them.

"Sansa?" Arya whispered.

The smile slowly fell from her mother's face. The tears grew once more. "Still held at King's Landing," she was barely able to say. The pain and fear for her sister almost was enough to knock Arya on her face. She closed her eyes, praying to the gods for her sister's safety.

"Jon?" she turned her question to Robb.

The flinch that went through Catelyn's body did not go unnoticed, but Arya chose to ignore it and not bring it to their attention. It was no secret that her mother disliked Jon quite a bit. It was the one thing that made Arya resent her mother. Jon was a part of them, no matter what had transpired to bring him into this world. He was her brother, always and forever.

"We have heard no news of Jon. To my knowledge, he is still atop the wall," Robb answered softly.

Though it was no news at all, at least it was better than hearing of Jon's death. Arya would have to accept that for now, but she made a mental note to find something out about his whereabouts and safety.

"Bran and Rickon?" Arya asked them both.

There was a look exchanged between Catelyn and Robb, one that sent cold, horrible daggers through her chest. When Catelyn began to cry again, and Robb's jaw clenched in furious anger, Arya knew. There was no use in words, no use in answering her question. The looks were answer enough.

"Theon—Theon, with a group of men from his homeland attacked Winterfell. He—he overtook our people and holds our home as his. Bran and Rickon...Bran and Rickon—they..."

Robb turned his face away, just as the tears slipped down his face. His chin began to tremble in the effort to keep his emotions at bay. Arya stared at her brother, wanting nothing more than to not believe the unspoken words he refused to say.

"They are assumed dead, Arya," Catelyn finished in a voice shaking with sobs.

Arya eyes went wide, her head shaking from side to side swiftly. It could not be. It wasn't true. First, they had taken her father. Now, possibly her two brothers. The rage consumed her. The loss overwhelmed her. Arya collapsed onto her mother and brother again, her mouth coming open and releasing the scream of rage she dared not hold in. They held her tightly, allowing her to grieve as they had already grieved for the ones taken from them too soon.

"My hope is not dead, Arya. I will never give up hope for my boys, until their bodies are lying in my arms!" Catelyn cried.

The three of them sat holding each other in silence for a while longer, not having the strength to speak anymore. Arya breathed deeply, taking in her mother's scent, finding she had missed it so. She relished in the feel of Robb's strong arms around her, finding she felt completely safe in this foreign land with him here.

"King Robb, Lady Stark...Lord Frey wishes to meet the newest arrival," a man wearing Frey colors said.

At first, neither Catelyn or Robb looked very happy. They did not make a move to rise, but as the minutes passed, arise they did. Robb reached down, helping Arya to her feet, but did not let her go once she was standing. His long arm came around her, bringing her into his side. She wrapped her arm around his back, snuggling in to him. She could not help but be reminded of how Gendry used to hold her and before she knew it, tears were in her eyes again. Would she ever be able to experience anything without thinking of Gendry? She prayed for the day when he would not even be a memory in her mind. It would make the pain a little less hard to bare.

They walked inside one of the large castles, until Arya found herself standing before a large, black throne. The man that sat on the throne was a small, bald headed man. His eyes watched her approach. There was no gentleness in them, no warmth. She cringed in his presence, though she hid it well.

"Lord Frey, may I present to you my sister, Princess Arya Stark," Robb said.

The man continued watching her without so much as a hello. Arya had the thought to stick her tongue out at him, just to get a response, but thought better of it. Harwin's words crossed her mind, reminding her of the tension between this man and her brother. She should not make it worse. Instead, she curtsied to him to show respect. Being so out of practice, it was a little tough to accomplish the slow bow.

"So, you are the Arya Stark that made a fool of the King'sgaurd? Such a tiny thing as yourself slipping through their hands," Lord Frey said. A bubble of laughter rose up within him, but he choked it back down. Arya could not stop the thought that she wished he would literally choke on his laughter. "Tell me, child, how did you manage to do it? How did you manage to escape those men?"

"Not without help," she answered, her eyes growing darker the longer she looked at him. His own eyes matched hers, and she decided right then that she hated him. Though, she could not really figure out why, still the hatred grew within her.

"No," he said, his voice low, "I have a feeling it was all you, child. If you do not wish to divulge your secrets, I will not make you. You must be tired and hungry from your long journey from King's Landing to the Twins. Your rooms have been made ready and you shall have a bath and something to eat. After that, when you are more presentable as a lady should be, I will introduce you to Elmar."

At the same time, not lost to Arya, both her mother and brother flinched. Her eyes darted from Lord Frey, to her mother and then to her brother. Her mother's eyes were closed, while her brother stared daggers at the men seated before them.

"We have not told Arya of the contract, Lord Frey. If you will allow us time to talk with her, it will be most appreciated," Robb said, his teeth clenched.

Lord Frey smiled, though it was not gentle. "Take all the time you need, King Robb."

With that, Catelyn and Robb escorted Arya out of his chambers. They walked her up the long steps, until she was standing in a large room. All the necessities, everything a princess needed, lay before her. The bed was made of iron with sheets of white silk. Gold hung from the walls and on the floors lay beautiful rugs. Arya had never felt so out of place than she did standing in the room.

Arya walked away from her Catelyn and Robb, stopping at the large window overlooking the grounds. At once, she turned on them both, her voice barely audible. "Who is Elmar and why must I meet him?" Deep within her, she already knew the answer. It was the reason she wanted to scream. It was the reason she wanted to run from the place and never look back. Both Catelyn and Robb watched her, their faces looking guilty.

"Elmar is your betrothed, Arya. Once the war is over, you will marry him and join our House with the Freys."

For a moment, even knowing the answer before he spoke it, Arya felt frozen in place. To hear it spoken out loud caused her heart to fall down to her feet, caused her head to explode in pain. She was betrothed. She was to marry. No, that's not me, she screamed in her mind.

"No, I won't," she said so softly, so calmly. Though, she felt neither of those things.

Catelyn took a step towards her daughter, and Arya turned her angered eyes upon her mother. She stopped, her face looking concerned for Arya. "We had to do it, my love. Without the binding of you to Elmar, we would have surly perished."

Arya turned her back on her mother, staring out of the large window. Her breath was coming out fast and long. Her eyes stared at the treeline before her, stared where she knew Gendry was. At the thought of him, she let out a soft groan. This couldn't be happening. The last words they spoke to one another played in her mind. She thought about how she had told him that if he came with her, he would have had her, that it was all that mattered.

I would not even have had that, she heard his voice in her head.

Her eyes, which had been slammed shut, jerked open. She stared, wide-eyed at the trees that blocked him from her. "He knew!" she whispered to herself. "By the gods, he knew!" she cried louder.

"Arya?" her mother asked, worriedly.

She turned from the window, facing her mother and brother again. She felt lost, felt angry and everything in between. It made sense now, made sense why he would have abandoned her. Somehow, Gendry had known about her betrothal. Somehow, he had known she was meant for another. Everything became so clear. Everything she had thought of him became something else. It wasn't that he wanted to abandon her because he grew tired of her. He abandoned her, because he felt he could not compete with a lord. It was the reason he stayed and became knighted. It was the reason he drew the line between them. How could she have not seen it before?

"Oh gods," she whispered, horribly.

"I know this is a shock, Arya, but this will be a good match. Things have transpired, things so serious that it could affect our part in the war. We need to build back the alliance with them, and you can help us do that," Robb said softly. With every word he spoke, he drew himself closer to her. Finally, he reached his hand out, pulling her chin up, so her eyes would look at his. "I have messed everything up, Arya. I broke the contract of my own marriage to a Frey by marrying another. Only recently have we been able to win Lord Frey back, though it is still on dangerous ground. He has welcomed us in to his home. Your uncle will marry one of his daughters, bringing us closer once more, but your marriage to Elmar will seal us in good standings with them for as long as we live. Please, Arya, please see the good in this," Robb begged.

"This isn't me, Robb. This isn't who I am," Arya whispered, desperate for her brother to understand.

"You are Princess Arya of House Stark. If this isn't you, then tell him who I am looking upon now," he asked.

"I am—I am..." she began, but the words wouldn't come out. She felt the tears instead, until suddenly the answers fell on top of her. How could she have not known, not really have known? "I am a broken acorn dress," she cried, falling into her brother's arms. "I am the hammer that hits the anvil! I am the sound the anvil makes as the hammer hits it! I am a forge...not a castle!"

Robb held her tightly to him, kissing the top of her head gently. "We will figure something else out, Arya. I promise," he whispered.

"Robb!" Catelyn said. There was warning in her tone.

"Mother, not now, please," Robb begged.

Arya turned her face towards her mother, seeing the conflicting emotions in the woman's eyes. After a few moments, Catelyn sighed heavily. She looked at Robb and nodded her head. It was then that he servants walked in. Two girls, a few years older than Arya began drawing a bath. One of the girls held a tray full of food. Without hesitation, Arya let go of Robb and hurried towards the table, devouring the food on the tray. She tasted the different meats and cheeses. She sighed with contentment as the juices of the various fruits touched her tongue. Arya had not realized how hungry she was. Catelyn sat beside her, as Robb moved to sit in the chair right in front of her. They both watched her, a small smile playing on their lips.

"You're going to make yourself sick, sister," Robb chuckled.

Arya looked up at him, her cheeks bulging from all the grapes she stuffed in her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Robb chuckled again, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It's quite alright, love. Eat until you cannot eat anymore," he said softly.

After her belly was stuffed full, Robb excused himself as Catelyn helped Arya into her bath. Arya lay in the tub, her eyes closed and relishing in the feel of the hot water. In no time, the water was brown and dirty, but Arya did not care. She made no move to get out, finding it better to stay submerged in the dirty water. Catelyn sat silently, watching her. Arya turned her eyes towards her mother, watching the woman watching her. Her mother's eyes slid down to the bracelet upon her wrist and her eyes grew wide.

Catelyn reached out, taking the bracelet in her hands and looking at the faces of the direwolves. In the dim light, Arya could still see the tears shining in her mother's eyes. "Beautiful," Cately whispered.

"They are all there, mother. Even Ghost."

This time, Catelyn did not flinch at the thought of Jon. Her eyes remained on the bracelet, a small smile playing on her lips. "Where did you get this, Arya?" she asked, her voice husky with emotion.

"Someone made it for me. A—a friend," Arya whispered, feeling pain in her heart.

"Such an intimate creation for just a friend," Catelyn responded in the way only a knowing mother would respond.

"His name is Gendry. After—after father was murdered, I was taken from King's Landing by a man named Yoren. He was to deliver me to Winterfell, but we were attacked, and he was killed." Catelyn flinched at her word, but Arya went on. "Gendry was a part of the group heading to the wall with Yoren. We formed a bond, choosing to take care of each other," Arya finished in a whisper.

"The hammer, anvil and forge you spoke of? He is a smith?" Catelyn asked gently.

Arya looked away from her mother, down to the bracelet. She nodded her head. Catelyn let go of the bracelet, taking Arya's hand and squeezing it.

"How do you do it, mother?" Arya asked after some time.

Catelyn's face showed her confusion. "Do what, Arya?"

"How do you deal with the pain? How do you deal with the pain of losing the man that you love, of losing father?"

Catelyn's face crumbled for a moment, showing what she truly felt. Arya saw a pain so raw, so deep, she had wished she hadn't said anything. When she went to tell her mother to just forget it, Catelyn finally responded.

"You never are able to deal with it, Arya. It stays with you, sitting inside your heart, as if it was a part of you. You will always be aware of its presence, but the mind has a way of getting used to the pain. It never dulls, never stops hurting, but you come to a point in your life where you feel that it will no longer kill you to live." Catelyn leaned up, touching Arya's cheek softly. "This boy, Gendry, will always stay with you, love, but some day you will be able to live with the pain and not feel as though it is crushing you."

Without thought, Arya sat up from the water and reached for her mother. Catelyn took her, wet and all, and held her daughter to her chest. Both women cried for the men they had lost. A mother comforted her daughter as her Arya was crushed under the weight of her first heartbreak.

Some time later, Arya climbed out of the dirty water and dried off. She was too tired to object when the servant girls helped her into a dress. The dress was green silk with gold embroidery. It was just the kind of dress Sansa would have loved, but to Arya it felt like iron chains. Arya watched one of the servant girls. She was staring at the bracelet, her eyes alight with excitement. For some reason, she got the strong urge to hide the bracelet from the girl's eyes. She didn't want her to look at it, didn't want it to be exposed. The servant girl looked up and noticed anger in Arya's eyes and looked away instantly.

Robb was waiting for her when she exited the room. He smiled at her, grabbing her hand to lead her towards Lord Frey and his son Elmar. Arya's body was so tense, she could hardly keep up with Robb's longs strides. She felt like a prisoner being sent to their death. Her body began to sweat. It glistened on her forehead and above her lip. Her mind was screaming Gendry's name, screaming that this wasn't right. Arya could feel Robb's eyes on her. She tried to put on a brave face, but she knew she was failing miserably. As the door to the Great Room loomed ahead of them, Arya choked back her tears.

"Seven hells," Robb muttered beside her.

He tightened his hold on her hand and changed their course. Instead of heading towards Lord Frey, he was taking her outside the castle. Lord Frey's men, who were following behind them, called out for him to stop.

"I need a moment with my sister," he answered them over his shoulder, not turning around.

The moment she stepped foot outside, Arya drew in a big gulp of air. It was as sweet as the grapes she had eaten earlier. The wind touched her face softly as the sun shown down upon her head. There was not a cloud in the sky. Robb led her down the long bridge, past the first tower, until they were sitting upon a hill under the shade of a large tree. Arya rested her back against the bark and watched her brother, who was staring out at the two towers.

"I can't wait for you to meet my wife, Jeyne. She is back at Riverrun while I take care of the misunderstanding with Lord Frey. I—I never meant to fall in love with her and break the contract, but it just happened, you know?" he said softly.

"She must be some woman to have captured your attention," Arya responded.

Robb smiled, love pouring from his eyes. "She is," he said quietly.

The moments passed by in silence, neither of them knowing how to say what they needed to say. Arya wanted to plead with her brother. She wanted to beg him not to make her marry Elmar Frey. She wanted to make him see that, like him, she had fallen in love with someone she should have never fallen in love with. But it was her brother who spoke first.

"How can I ask you to marry the Frey boy when I myself couldn't even hold to my end of the agreement? But how can I not ask you to marry him and put all of us in danger?"

"It is as simple as not asking me to do either, Robb. You just decide that you aren't going to make me a pawn in this game," Arya pleaded.

"What's his name?" Robb asked, changing the subject.

Arya knew who he was talking about, but she couldn't answer him at first. She felt that if she said his name out loud, she would lose it. Instead, she took several breaths, in and out slowly, before answering.

"Gendry." The name came out so softly, so gently, that Arya wondered if Robb had even heard her at all.

"Where is this Gendry? Why is he not here with you?"

Arya looked over at the trees blocking the Brotherhood without Banners. "Because, he didn't feel like he was worthy enough," she whispered.

"Anyone who has protected my sister from the horrors I can only imagine is worthy enough to me," Robb said, taking Arya's hand in his.

Arya's head shot around, her eyes growing wide at her brothers words. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Could it be possible that she was seeing through his unspoken words correctly? Robb turned towards her fully, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You are not a pawn in this game, Arya. If I have learned one thing from loving Jeyne, it is that you cannot help who captures your heart. I will think of another way to please Lord Frey. If this boy, Gendry, is really the one you love, then bring him before me and I will decide what needs to happen next. He...is not of noble blood, is he?"

Arya shook her head no. "He's a—he's..." she couldn't finish.

"We will worry about it then, Arya. Right now, while we are in this place, we will play our parts. Can you do that for me?"

Arya nodded her head forcefully, throwing her arms around her brother's neck. She squeezed, pouring all the love she could muster in to him. He chuckled softly, patting her on the back and kissing her head.

"Now, let us go and meet this Frey boy."

With that, Arya and Robb got to their feet, walking back towards the castle where the Freys sat waiting. Together they went, hand in hand.

For the rest of the afternoon, into the night, Arya spent her time with Elmar Frey. He had his father's looks, which made it hard for Arya to look at him longer than a few seconds. He seemed a bit dull with her, yawning ever so often. They sat beside one another as the Frey's and Starks ate together, but there weren't too many words spoken between them. Arya found she was quite alright with it. Robb looked over at her, catching her attention late into the night. He smiled his beautiful smile, giving her a quick wink and then turning his attention back to Lord Frey. She had never loved her brother more than she did in that moment.

Finally, Arya was excused to go to her room to sleep. She gave her brother a kiss goodnight as her mother escorted her to her bedchambers. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she ripped the dress from her body, feeling relief for the first time. She crawled into the large bed, covering her naked body with the silk sheets. The moon shown through the large window and landed on her.

Arya picked her wrist up, bringing the bracelet towards her face. The moon shown down upon it, bringing out its silver tone. As gently as she could, she unclasped it from her wrist and turned it over, staring at the words engraved on the back. Gendry's face floated to her mind with a crushing blow, and before she knew it, she was sobbing into the words. She cried until sleep took her over, holding the bracelet in her hands, his words close to her cheek.

Arya awoke with a start, shooting up in bed. A feeling of loss, of unimaginable pain hit her and she knew something was seriously wrong. She searched the room, finding the rays of the sun had replaced the glow of the moon. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her eyes as wide as saucers. It had not been a nightmare that had awoken her. It had not been her father's headless body that scared her so. Something was wrong. Something was dreadfully wrong.

After several moments of silence, Arya closed her eyes to calm herself. She raised her hand, wiping the sweat from her face and that is when she realized what had pierced her through her sleep. Her eyes stared at her wrist. All that she saw was her soft, pink flesh slightly dented from where the bracelet had sat for so long. But now, the bracelet was gone. She did not move, only thought about when she had had it last. Arya remembered taking it off and she jerked around, throwing the silk sheets from the bed. The bracelet was no where to be found. She jumped from the bed and fell to the ground, looking underneath the bed. There was no sign of it.

"No, no, no, no," she whispered.

She stood abruptly, turning the whole room upside down. She threw everything out of the draws, threw all of the perfumes on the floor. She turned in circles, feeling as if a part of her had gone missing. Again, she ran to the bed, tearing the mattress away and searching underneath. There was no sign of the bracelet.

Arya was standing in the middle of the room when her mother burst in. Catelyn's face looked alarmed, for she and everyone else in the castle had heard the loud noise coming from Arya's bedchamber. Behind her, the two servant girls walked in, looking around at the mess. Arya turned her attention to the girl who had eyed the bracelet earlier and before she could stop herself, she lunged towards the girl. Arya threw the girl against the wall, her angered face inches from the girl's.

"Arya, what are you doing?" Catelyn cried.

Arya ignored her, keeping her attention on the girl, who at this point was trying to fight her way free. "Where...is...it," Arya ground out.

"W—what?" the servant girl asked.

"You know damn well what! Where is the bracelet! I saw you looking at it earlier and now it's gone! Where is it!" Arya screamed.

Robb ran in the room next, seeing the commotion. Several of Frey's men came as well and they all froze as they watched Arya hold the servant girl against the wall. Robb reacted first, grabbing the silk sheets and advancing on his sister. He threw the sheets around her naked body and pried her away from the scared servant girl.

"Where is my bracelet!" Arya screamed again, fighting against Robb's hold.

The girl did not answer, looking too scared to utter a word.

"Please escort the girl out, explain to Lord Frey what has happened here and question the girl about the whereabouts of the bracelet," Robb commanded.

The men did as he instructed. They took the servant girl by the arms and walked her out. Arya tried to fight her way free to follow, but Robb kept a firm hold on her. He half walked her, half carried her towards the bed. He held her down until she was spent. Arya stopped fighting and just laid there, looking up at the ceiling. The bracelet was gone. Gendry's bracelet was gone.

"Arya, speak to me," Robb begged.

The lump was too heavy in her throat. She could not get the words out for the longest time. Finally, she was able to say one sentence, one sentence that summed up how great the loss of the bracelet was.

"I've lost the only piece of Gendry I have," she whispered.

Chapter 19: Something Old and New, Borrowed and Blue

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"I was there that day. The day they killed father. So was Sansa," Arya whispered as she stared up at the ceiling. Her mother was sitting in a chair close to the bed, while Robb sat on the bed beside her. She had not moved since they took the servant girl from her room. She had not moved sinse she had realized the bracelet was gone, thus her only connection to Gendry was gone. "Yoren...he wouldn't allow me to watch—but I heard."

"Arya, please," Robb said softly.

"I heard what the blade sounded like as it cut into father's neck. I heard the people cheering and Sansa's screaming. And every day since that day, I've heard it," she said, ignoring her brother's pleas.

"Arya, that's enough," Robb said more forcefully.

"Joffrey didn't even have the nerve to do it himself, not like father when he would take it upon himself to give out death to the punishable."

Arya could hear her mother softly cry, but she had to go on, had to get it out. She felt loss, so much loss that it consumed her. It was as if the bracelet was holding it all together for her, but now that it was gone, she wanted everything out of her.

"I heard father's head roll..."

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Robb yelled.

Catelyn stood up from her chair and walked out of the room. Arya cut her eyes to the side, watching her mother leave, yet she felt no guilt in being the one that made her leave. What was happening to her? The voices in her head were singing of victory. Robb stood from the bed, pacing back and forth. He was angry with her, but as with her mother, she couldn't find the strength to care.

"You will go to her, Arya. You will fall on your knees before her and beg her forgiveness for speaking of father like that in her presence."

Arya slowly turned on her side, turning away from Robb. She heard him walk towards her, felt his weight upon the bed as he sat. His hand touched her shoulder lightly, resting there a moment. She closed her eyes against the feel of it. She didn't want to feel anything. Arya would have been happy to just lie there and sleep the days away until the pain stopped.

"I cannot begin to imagine the horrors you have seen, sister. The road that lead you here must have been something of nightmares. Please, let go of this madness, of these memories. I am here and I will take care of you. No one will hurt you again," Robb whispered.

This made Arya slowly turn to her brother, seeing the pain in his eyes. She forced a smile upon her face, a smile she could not feel. He looked worried, so very worried. She had spoken madness earlier. She had spoken about her father's death as if she were speaking of the weather. She was aware of this, but she found she could not make herself feel anything other than numbness.

"I'm fine now, Robb. I will go in search of mother, asking her to forgive me," Arya answered, her voice mechanical.

Robb saw through it. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. "No, I want you to sleep, Arya. I will go and find mother."

With that, he rose to his feet and walked out of the room. Arya stared up at the ceiling, Gendry's face floating above her. Before she knew it, she let unconsciousness take over.

When she woke up, the sun had gone down and the moon had taken its place. She had slept the day away. There was movement to her right and she looked over to see Catelyn watching her. For the first time, Arya felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm so sorry, mother," she whispered.

Catelyn smiled sadly, taking her daughter's hand and squeezing it. "There is no reason for you to be sorry, my love. I would not have wished you to be there on that day for all the world. You and Sansa will carry that with you for the rest of your life and it hurts knowing I cannot take that away from the two of you."

"He saw me, mother, before he died," Arya said quietly, wanting her mother to take comfort in that.

"Then I am sure your father died with love in his heart," Catelyn responded. "Go back to sleep, Arya. The night is late." How she did it, Arya didn't know, but she turned and was, again, drug into her dreams.

She was running, running through the night, her eyes darting around her. Her legs were long, fast, and she flew by like the wind. In a blur of fur, she ran faster than she had ever run before. She could smell him, smell something familiar and was desperate to reach it. Her breath came out fast as her heart beat faster and faster. She had lost their scent, and had been searching desperately for them ever since. But now, she could smell the boy, smell him so close.

Ahead of her, she could see the flames of torches and she slowed down, looking around her to make sure no threat was in sight. She was completely alone in the darkness. The scent of the boy grew as she crept towards the humans. Each face she looked upon was wrong. None of them were the boy she wanted to see.

She crept closer, until she was at the edge of the trees. There was movement to her left, and she turned her eyes to see. There he was, walking from one building to another. His shoulders were slumped, his head down as if not to make eye contact with anyone.

She began to growl, wanting nothing more than to get his attention, to get him to look up at her, but he continued walking. She watched his brooding face, watched the way his jaw clenched and the way his eyes were sunk in. He looked worse than the last time she saw him, but he would have to do. She had to get back to her master. She just had to. This boy was the only connection she had. His face continued in its brooding and she growled louder, irritated that he would not look up at her.

"What in the seven hells!" someone screamed to her right.

She turned her head sharply, seeing that she had been spotted by three men. Her first thought was to attack, to slaughter them where they stood, but as she looked back at the boy, he finally looked up. His eyes grew wide in surprise and he took a step back. She moved, jumped from the trees and headed straight for the boy. He fell back, like he did when they had first met. She stood over him as more yelling and shouting began. The men in the camp ran from their tents, their swords in hand. She paid them no attention as she hovered over the boy, trying to speak to him with her eyes.

Finally, recognition shown on his face and his fear vanished. He smiled, calling out her name and she answered with the dip of her head. Ever so slowly, she moved towards his neck, smelling his scent. Her master's scent was very faint, but it was still there. She felt excitement surge within her. The boy's hand reached up, cautiously, until it lay between her eyes. He began rubbing, his smile never falling.

"She isn't here anymore," the boy whispered. His voice was sad and angry.

Then we will go and find her, she thought.

Behind her, the men gathered, their swords raised to strike. The boy looked passed her, his eyes growing wide in horror. "NO!" he screamed as they advanced. She was not afraid. She could devour them before the first blade touched her. She turned on them, stopping their advancements. Her teeth were bared, her growl shattering the silence. The boy rose behind her, raising his hands and begging them to put the swords down. They did not listen.

As soon as she saw an opening, she lunged towards two of the men. In their fear, they threw themselves from her path and her way was unblocked. When she reached the trees again, she turned towards the boy. He was watching her, screaming for her to run. Run she would, but not far. Soon, she would return and her and the boy would go after her master, and they would be reunited once more. She raised her head, howling her promise to the boy and disappeared into the forest.

Arya shot up in bed. Her eyes wide, her body sweating from head to toe. She stared out of the window, the moon shining again. Only one word slipped pasted her clenched teeth, only one word she could speak.

"Nymeria!" she breathed.

She lay in bed most of the day, a sickness falling over her some time after she awoke from the dream. Catelyn was beside her, washing her forehead with a cold washcloth. Her skin burned with fever. Arya had no idea what was happening to her, so she did not question her mother for answers. Perhaps all the horrible things she had witnessed and took part in the past months were catching up to her. All she knew was that she was burning up. Robb had come in several times to check on her. She could hear him speaking with her mother in quiet whispers. One minute, she had been fine, but the next, she was bedridden.

She felt her mother's cool lips touch her skin. "I will be back soon, my love. Your uncle's wedding is about to begin," Catelyn whispered. Her mother walked out of the room, leaving her in the silence.

Arya did not know how long she lay there before she heard the screams from outside her window. She swam back and forth from unconsciousness to awareness as the screams grew louder. At first, she did not move, but as the screams continued, she forced herself to sit up slowly. A wave of dizziness hit her, but she shook it off. Ever so slowly, she climbed out of the bed. Grabbing a pair of black pants and a matching shirt, she threw them over her fevered body.

She stood for a moment, finding she still had some strength left despite the fever. She pushed her way towards the large window. When her eyes looked down into the darkened courtyard, she froze. Men were running, some were fighting. All along the grounds, tents had been set up for the wedding. What Arya saw next caused he to throw her hand over her mouth to stop the scream. She watched a group of Frey's men run towards one of the tents, collapsing it on top of the ones inside. Suddenly, it burst into flames, igniting fabric and flesh. Again, the screams filled her ears.

Arya stumbled away from the window, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Her head swam, the fever intensifying. Those men in the tents...those are my men, she thought, horrified. She crawled to the edge of the bed, searching underneath. Her hands came across the small blade. She was grateful she had brought it. Her hands were shaking, her vision blurred, but she pulled herself up to her feet and walked towards the door. Robb and her mother were down there, and she had to get to them to let them know what she had seen. If only the fever would break. If only she could think straight.

Suddenly, there was no time to think as screams of agony and fear erupted below her. It came from inside the castle. Arya reached the stairs, catching herself on the railing. Luckily, no one was around as she began climbing down. As she went, the screams grew to an unbearable volume. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Robb and his men of three thousand plus were here. They would fix this in no time.

One step, two step….on and on she descended until she was on the bottom floor, the Great Room just before her. It was in that room where the wedding was to take place. The doors were bolted shut from the outside. "Why are they bolted shut?" she whispered aloud. From the inside, she could hear the screams. She had found her destination. "Mother…Robb," she said fearfully.

Arya staggered towards the door, moving the large latch from its hold. As soon as the door was free to move, it burst open knocking Arya to the ground. A man fell beside her, a spear poking out of his stomach. She stared at the man, his eyes unmoving…dead. He wore the colors of her House, one of Robb's men.

Squeezing the small blade, Arya got to her feet and jumped over the man's body. Utter chaos could never be able to describe what carnage she found inside the Great Room. Bodies were littered everywhere. On the walls, blood was plastered in horrible shapes. Arya stood there frozen; her body unable to move, as she watched man after man fall to the ground dead. She searched for her mother and brother, desperate to find them.

She found Robb surrounded by men, their blades pointed in his direction. He turned in circles, his eyes scanning their faces. At his feet, his wolf lay dead. Arya could not help the scream that left her. She screamed Robb's name, but her voice was drowned out by other screams. He never heard her.

Arya saw one of the men raise his crossbow, sending the arrows straight to her brother. Arya watched as the arrows made contact with her brother's back, causing the blood to spray from his skin. Robb screamed in pain and fury, falling to one knee. The next blow came from in front as he was lost in his pain. Arya felt each arrow go through Robb's flesh, as if it was her flesh the arrows touched. Tears blinded her vision, her fever refusing to break for just a moment, but she began to run towards her brother. The small blade was raised before her, ready to strike the first man it came towards.

Something grabbed her by the hair, sending her to the ground. She hit hard. She felt her shoulder pop out of place and she screamed in pain. The air was knocked from her body, making her swallow the scream. The pain was something she had never known before. It was almost enough to drown her in darkness. The blade fell from her hands with a loud clank. The man standing over her was smiling at her. Blood and gods knew what else was plastered on his face and hair. She did not recognize him, but one thing was for sure…he was not one of her men. He jumped at her, bringing his weight on top of her, his hands around her throat. The weight upon her dislocated shoulder was unbearable. He began to squeeze the air from her body. Arya struggled in his grasps, but he was too strong. She was going to die in this blood bath of a Great Room, just another statistic of the war.

Her hands desperately searched for the small blade. She tried to remember her training, tried to remember what she had been taught. As her lungs screamed for breath, her shoulder screaming in pain, her mind forced her to calm. She stopped fighting, only stared at the man trying to take her life. His lips were pulled back in a hellish smile, his sharp teeth bare. Yet she kept searching for the small blade, until finally she felt the hilt in her palm. As the final seconds of her life were dwindling down, she raised the blade with her good arm and thrust it through the side of the man's neck with what little strength she had left. It was his turn to gasp and gargle for breath. It was his turn to see death looming before him. Just for good measure, Arya twisted the blade, the sound of muscle ripping in her ear. At last, the man slumped on top of her. His hands released her throat and she breathed in the most delicious of breaths.

With a sob, Arya pushed the dead man off of her, crawling away from him. She held her dislocated shoulder, the pain excruciating. The men were still standing in a circle around her brother, who was on still on his knees, his blood pouring from his wounds. They stood aside as someone walked towards him. Arya recognized Roose Bolton at once. He was supposed to be fighting for them, yet he stalked towards her brother as if he meant to do him harm. The men grabbed Robb, exposing his neck. As Arya watched in horror, Roose Bolton raised his sword and thrust it down upon Robb's neck. She would never forget the sight of Robb's head falling to the ground, or the way the blood squirted from his opened neck.

As her throat began to swell, she watched her brother's head being taken from its body. She thought how ironic it was that she was shielded from seeing her father beheaded, only to have to watch her brother meet the same fate. She cried his name, yet it came out in a hoarse whisper.

A scream to her left took her eyes away from her brother's headless body. Her mother was standing a ways away from her. She was holding someone hostage, but the moment she saw her son killed, Catelyn had slit her prisoner's throat. They had made her watch her son being butchered with no thought for her prisoner's life. Arya fell to the ground, crawling towards her mother, but she was too far away. One of the men standing close to Robb's body turned his fiery eyes towards their mother. Catelyn did not see him, did not see the danger walking towards her.

"Mother," Arya gasped, her hand reaching out to the woman.

Though it was only a whispered gasp, Catelyn seemed to have heard her daughter's voice, or maybe it was a mother's intuition, for she turned her tear-filled eyes to her daughter. They grew wide at seeing Arya crawling towards her, towards certain death.

"No!" Catelyn screamed.

With her attention on Arya, Catelyn was grabbed from behind. They were laughing, because the thought she was begging for her life. They did not realize she was staring at her daughter. They did not realize it was a cry for her daughter to run and survive.

Something caught Arya's foot, and she looked back to see what it was. Smalljon Umber lay there, only moments from death, his eyes moving from Catelyn to Arya. His stomach was opened from navel to neck, the blood oozing out like water. Though the man was good as dead, his hold on Arya's foot was strong.

Arya turned back to her mother, her cries rising as high as the screams. The man approached Catelyn. In his hand, a small blade was unsheathed. Arya kicked her foot, trying to get loose, yet the man held her still. Everything around her became still. Every noise, every scream and whimper dissolved into silence, until it was just Arya and Catelyn. The woman never took her eyes from her child, never looked into the eyes of her executioner. Catelyn smiled, trying to be encouraging for Arya. Even when her life was forfeit, she was thinking of her children.

"Run," Catelyn yelled.

Raymund Frey stepped towards her mother, the blade coming up ever so slowly. "No!" Arya screamed, desperate to get the man's attention. It was of no use. The blade touched her mother's neck on the right side, sliding towards the left. All the while, it left a trail of broken skin and pure, red blood. Catelyn's eyes went wide, though they never left Arya's. When the man was done, Catelyn stood there staring as if she could survive such a mortal wound. Arya watched the light go out of her mother's eyes, watched the lively woman fall to her knees. In the final moments of her life, Catelyn gave her daughter one more smile before falling face-first towards the cold, stoned ground. At the same time, the man holding Arya's foot let go, himself dying.

Time seemed to choose that moment to speed back up. The screams rose again. The blood flowed on the floor towards where Arya was. She could not move, could not utter a word. Resigned to the fate of her brother and mother, Arya crumbled to the floor. She lay as still as death itself. When the eyes scanned the room, they would not see her being one that was alive. She waited for death to come and claim her. She waited for the reunion with her brother, mother and father…possibly her whole family by this point. Lying in the blood of her people, she closed her eyes and could only wait.

What do we say to the God of Death? It was a whispered voice in her ear. It was Syrio's words, yet not his voice. What do we say to the God of Death? The whispered voice spoke again. Arya's eyes shot open when she realized it was Gendry who spoke those words, Gendry who sounded so close.

"Not today," she whispered.

Run!

With all of the strength she could muster, Arya got to her knees. No one was paying her any attention, no one expecting someone to rise from the dead. She was so close to the doorway. Just a few steps and she could make a run for it. Syrio's words, Gendry's voice, continued to repeat over and over inside her head. Every time the voice asked its question, Arya would answer in quick whispers, until she was reciting it like a prayer.

"Not today…not today."

She knew she was wounded, could feel the cuts and bruises on her body, could feel her dislocated shoulder, but she pushed forward. Finally, she made it to the darkened hallway and ran. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. Blood and tears blinded her vision, yet she continued to run and continued to say, "Not today…not today!"

She came to a darkened room, running in for what she had to do. She crumbled against the wall, too dark to see her hands before her. As fast as she could, she put the hilt of the blade inside her mouth. She tasted the blood of the man she killed, but kept the bile from rising in her throat. Taking three long breaths to calm herself, she grabbed her shoulder. With on quick yank, her shoulder popped back in place. Her screams were muffled by the hilt of the small blade, but it still sounded loud in her ears. The physical pain would never be as horrible as the emotional pain she felt, but her shoulder was fixed, though it throbbed horribly. After waiting a few minutes, making sure no one was coming, Arya made a run for it again.

As she turned a corner, Arya slammed in to someone hard. She fell to her bottom with a cry of surprise. She looked up in fear and terror as she stared in to hazel eyes. Arya knew the woman in an instance. It was one of Lord Frey's many wives. She looked down at Arya, her fear and terror matching Arya's.

"Please," Arya whispered, begged.

The girl, no older than Arya herself, looked towards the Great Room where the screams could still be heard. She looked Arya up and down, obviously noticing all the blood.

"My gods. You were supposed to be in bed!" the girl whispered. "I was on my way to get you."

Before Arya could respond, the girl grabbed her hand and jerked her to her feet with surprising strength. Arya staggered forward, barely keeping upright. Without thinking of the pain, Arya and the girl began to run, their footsteps echoing in the halls. Behind her, footprints written in blood were left on the clean floor. They ran past servants barely able to move from their path. She did not want to think about what would happen to the girl if one of the servants told Lord Frey what she had done, how she was helping Arya to escape. None of them questioned Lord Frey's wife, which was another thing that saved Arya's life.

"The fever will break in a few short hours. I did not give you much of the poison, so as to not kill you. I knew what my husband had planned, and you were the easiest one I could save," the girl hissed as they ran. Arya was too stunned to reply. The girl had saved her by poisoning her.

By the time they made it to the stables, both girls' chests were heaving up and down. Arya finally crumbled to the ground, her shoulder screaming in pain, the cuts burning. Her throat was so raw and parched she feared she would die of thirst instead of the sharp end of a blade. The girl ran towards the second to the last stall in the back. At once, Arya could hear the rustling of the horse inside. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone had followed. Through the blood and tears, she saw not a soul.

"This is the fastest horse my lord husband owns. Ride him hard, for he will not break. When you come to the edge of our land, take a right, for it will lead you to the Brothers Without Banners. There, they will keep you safe and possibly come to your people's aid. Do not stop, not for anyone."

The girl stopped, though Arya felt she had more to say. They stared at one another, one covered in blood, the other covered in sorrow. Though the girl never saw what happened, Arya knew she understood the carnage that had taken place. There was a pleading sense of forgiveness in the girl's eyes, yet Arya didn't want to forgive. She wanted to take the small blade in her hands and strike down all who were still left inside.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash behind them and both girls turned to see what it was. Three of Frey's men were storming out of the castle, their eyes trained on the stable. "Go…you must go now!" the girl said fearfully. Arya pulled herself upon the large horse. She gave the girl one last look before kicking the horse's side and galloping out of the stable. The three men chose that moment to come into view. Two were smart enough to jump out of the way, but the third man stood his ground. Leaning forward, Arya ran straight through him, dragging his body several feet before the man came to rest in a dusty heap. He was dead on impact.

There was screaming behind her from the stable as more men joined the two that were smart enough to get out of the way. Over her own loud breathing, she heard the men assemble their own horses. Above everything else, the sound of the girl's guttural scream filled Arya's ears. She didn't have to look back to know that the men had killed her.

The courtyard came in to view and what she saw almost had her falling off the horse in shock. Bodies lay everywhere, scattered on the ground. Some where whole, while others were in pieces here and there. Arya cried out at the horrible images she was seeing. Panic overtook her, outweighing even the fever. She kicked the horse harder, desperate to get away from the blood and gore.

She saw her exit coming closer. The way was clear. The horse was the fastest she had ever ridden, but it did not seem fast enough. Any moment, she felt as if hands were going to reach out and pull her by the hair, knocking her off the horse to a sure death. With a sob, she screamed for the horse to go faster.

The animal was a seasoned horse, taking the sharp right turn with ease. From this vantage point, Arya was able to look behind her. She counted four men with their own horses coming up behind her. She had a decent lead on them, but how long would it last? Arya could not remember how long her ride from the Brother's Without Banner's camp was to the Twins. She prayed to whichever gods, old and new that was listening, that it had not been far.

Something loomed ahead of her on the road, something that sent jagged chills down her spine. There, sitting just a few yards away was a fallen tree. There was no way around it, for on both sides of the road was a steep drop. If she tried to go around, she and the horse both would fall to their deaths. The horse must have seen the tree. It cried out, coming to a stop just inches from the object. It trotted from one end to the other, as if looking for a way around.

"Jump it, you stupid animal!" Arya screamed. She snapped the reigns down hard, but that made the situation worse. Before she knew it, the horse picked its front-legs up and bucked her off. With a startled scream, Arya fell to the ground. The fall was enough to knock her senseless, but amazingly, she just felt just the breath get knocked from her body.

What do we say to the God of Death? Gendry's voice whispered.

"Not today," she whispered back.

She staggered to her feet, falling backwards a little, yet keeping upright. Turning, she saw the four men galloping towards her at full speed. So this was how she would die, ignoring Gendry's voice and Syrio's words. Her hand slid to her side, finding the small blade ready. The sound the sword made when she unsheathed it was shattering. It bounced off the trees, off the silence of the forest around her, yet it made her feel strong. These men had taken her family. Now, she would take them.

They came trotting towards her, the way behind them blocked by the massive beast on which they rode. The men were smiling at her.

"Put down your silly sword, girl, and come back with us. Lord Frey would like a word," one of the men said.

"Swift as a deer, quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords," she whispered as she positioned herself in the water dance.

"Look here boys, this one's meaning to fight!" The four men laughed.

"Quick as a snake, calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords."

The men climbed from their horses, circling around her. Arya turned, looking each man in the face, the small blade stretched out before her. "You will either die on this road, or at the hands of Lord Frey, but understand you will die tonight, girl."

"Strong as a bear, fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords."

They were playing with her. One man would step forward, followed by another, but none of them struck her. She continued to circle around, watching and waiting for the first move.

"The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords," she whispered.

One of the men stepped forward a little too close and she swiped the small blade towards him catching his shoulder. He jumped back, surprise and anger written on his face. The men seemed to stop for a moment, their eyes focused on the tear in their comrade's shirt.

"Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords."

The man looked up from his wound, his eyes bursting with anger. "You're going to regret that, little girl," he whispered. The men seemed to understand that he should be the one to cut Arya down, for they moved back and allowed the man full access. He unsheathed his sword, bringing the tip towards Arya. "Maybe I'll have a little fun with you before I cut you into little tiny pieces and lay you beside your wolf-headed brother's corpse," he spat.

The next minutes flew by in clashing of swords as the man began to swipe at Arya. She was able to block the first blows, but they rattled her body, nonetheless. Her shoulder cried out in protest with every hit. She was tiring with every blow, with every block. In her mind, she saw her father. He was replaced by her mother's beautiful face and Rob's handsome features. Then, she saw Sansa, Bran and Rickon. They all dissolved into the face of Jon. Sitting high atop his mountain of ice, he smiled down at her. Finally, there came a face that broke her heart and made the tears roll down her cheeks. Gendry was looking at her with his intense blue eyes, his face begging her to fight a little longer.

What do we say to the God of Death, he asked her?

No matter how much she wanted to answer his question, the words would not come out. The man fighting her began to laugh. His sword dropped to his side as he turned towards his friends, his laughter rising. "It's too easy," he choked out.

There it was. A piece of flesh opened to her. As he turned to the men on his left, Arya saw a small opening between his armor. It was the slightest of holes fit for a small blade, a blade which she raised to strike.

"Winterfell!" she screamed as her blade slid perfectly through hole and flesh. She felt it tear into muscle and organs. As with the man that was choking her to death earlier, she twisted the blade as blood came pouring out. The men stood and watched in shock. None of them moved, too caught up in what they were seeing. The man she was killing began to gasp. Arya had hit a lung. As he fell to his knees, she rammed the small blade further in the man's body, screaming for him to die. As he slid to the ground, the blade came out of his side dripping with his blood.

Arya was breathing heavy, her eyes staring at the body laid out before her. The men seemed to come back to themselves and began advancing on Arya. She raised the small blade. She forgot to fear death. She forgot to fear her own mortality. All she could see was the kill. All she could feel with the blood soaking in to her hands.

What do we say to the God of Death? Gendry whispered in her head.

"Not today!" she screamed, as the men approached her.

They raised their swords, but none fell on her. There was a loud crash, a loud roar, as someone came in to view. Suddenly, the men began to drop, one after the other, in death. Blood and body parts flew everywhere, yet Arya could not take her eyes off her savior. He was massive, dressed in black. His long, black hair swung about him as his sword did the rest. When the final man was bleeding and dying at his feet, he finally looked up at Arya. She gasped when she got a good look at him.

No, she thought.

Right before the hilt of his blade came crashing down on her head, blackness taking her under, his name floated through her head.

The Hound.

Chapter 20: The Wildfire Begins With Death

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

They had questioned him the rest of the night about Nymeria. Gendry had told them everything he knew. He told them that Nymeria was a direwolf, and that she belonged to Arya. Dondarrion looked uneasy that she had come into his camp, but Gendry had done everything in his power to assure the man that they were safe. When all was said and done, the men had accepted Gendry's version of things.

Every moment after Nymeria visited him, he would walk towards the end of the camp, watching...waiting. Though he hadn't seen her again since that night, he knew she was still out there. He had missed Arya so much that seeing the direwolf had caused him to dip further into his depression. When the nights would descend, he would pace his tent and wonder why he had let her go in the first place. Without her with him, he felt lost. She had given him a purpose, even without trying. Now that that purpose was no longer there, he felt as if he were going out of his mind. Several times, he had planned a way to escape the Brotherhood and go in search for her, but each time Dondarrion's words would hit him. She was engaged, and if he wanted to have even the slightest of chances, he had to make something of himself. He could only pray to the gods that he would have enough time to do just that.

So when the day came that a crushing howl came from the forest, Gendry felt it vibrate from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. He lowered his hammer, walking slowly out of the forge. A group of men had already gathered, their eyes searching the forest behind the large trees. Out in the open, the howling became deafening. Gendry knew at once that it was Nymeria. Without thought, he sprinted past the men, all of whom were calling his name and telling him to stop, and through the thick forest.

The howling continued, growing and growing, until Gendry could hear nothing else. A feeling of such dread, of such loss, crashed down upon him. It almost caused him to stumble, but he kept upright and continued his sprinting. She was close, so close, yet he could not see her. The sound inside her howls spoke of such pain, of such sadness, he just knew he would find her dead when he actually did find her.

"Nymeria!" he screamed.

Her howling did not stop, but grew in volume. "I'm coming!" he whispered out of breath.

Finally, he saw a movement of fur to his left and he stopped, searching. There she was, her head raised to the sky as her mouth came open for another piercing scream. He watched her, wide-eyed, his chest puffing out breaths fast. If she knew he was there she never let him know. Gendry searched her, trying to see if she were hurt and where, but he saw no signs of a wound.

"Nymeria," he called to her.

The direwolf raised her head again, the howl piercing the silence around them. This one was long, as if never coming to an end. Gendry felt it vibrate through him again, almost sending him to his knees in the crushing anguish he could hear within it. Instead of letting it take him under, he forced his feet to move towards Nymeria. He did not fear her attacking him.

The moment he reached her, his hands came out slowly to touch her upturned face. As soon as his palm made contact, the direwolf lowered her head to look at him. The look in her eyes was something Gendry would never forget for as long as he lived. Such loss, such sadness, shown through her eyes towards him. He could not explain it, but even in his own eyes he could feel the tears form.

Nymeria raised her head again as another howl loosened from her mouth. Being this close to it caused Gendry to slam his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than for the direwolf to tell him what was happening. He wanted nothing more than for the direwolf to tell him why she was screaming of pain.

Suddenly, the direwolf fell to the ground, as if she were spent. Nymeria laid her head on her palm, her eyes closing. Gendry stood there for a moment, watching and wondering what to do next. She began to whine, and that was all Gendry needed to hear. He knelt to his knees, scooting closer towards her. As softly as he could, he grabbed her head and placed her in his lap. Her whining grew, until it sounded like a human cry. He petted her head, shushing her softly, but nothing helped. For the rest of the night, he cradled the direwolf's head into his lap as she cried for reasons he did not know.

The next morning he awoke to find himself alone. Nymeria was nowhere to be found. He stood from the cold, hard forest floor and wiped the leaves from his pants. Looking around, he searched for the direwolf, but she was gone. He stood there in the silence for a few moments, wishing she would come to him. When he realized that she wasn't coming back, he turned and walked towards the Brotherhood's camp.

The moment he stepped out of the forest, he heard the talk immediately. The men were looking towards the sky. Gendry looked up, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, until his eyes landed on the patch of red. Against the clear, blue sky, the red burned like wildfire.

"That's not a good sign," he heard one of the men say.

"It's only the sun," Gendry mumbled.

He didn't intend for the men to hear him, but they turned their attention to him. "Son, that's more than the sun," one of the men said. "Blood has been spilled."

Gendry tried to ignore the nagging feeling building in his stomach. First, Nymeria and now the men thinking blood had been spilled. He shook his head, walking past the men. He headed towards his tent for a nap. The sleep he received in the woods had only made him more tired. If it was only that simple, though. He tossed and turned, hearing Nymeria's howl, and seeing the blood-red streak in the sky. To make matters worse, Arya's face danced behind his closed eyelids. There would be no sleep for him that day, or the day after.

By the time the third day rolled around, Gendry was dead on his feet. The nagging feeling within him continued to grow, until it affected his work. His thumb was throbbing after he had missed the anvil and struck it instead. Luckily, he had not put his full power into the hit, otherwise he would have broken it for sure. Hot Pie had come by and visited him, but he had been in no mood for visitors. None too nicely, he had asked the boy to leave. A little hurt, Hot Pie had walked away shaking his head.

He was sitting in his tent, his head hanging low and wishing for sleep, when he heard the commotion start outside. Gendry raised his head and listened, hearing voices rising. He stood and walked out to see what was taking place.

"That cannot be!" someone yelled.

"They would not dare have done what you accuse them of!" another yelled.

Gendry was in the back of a large crowd that had started to gather. He looked up and over the men's heads, but could not see a thing.

"I was there! I saw!" someone yelled.

"You're lying!"

Gendry pushed his way through, slowly. The men did not seem to want to move, but he forced his way through the large crowd.

"Th—they killed him! The King of the North...they killed him!"

The moment the words floated towards Gendry, he froze. He could not move, could not think of anything but what the man had just yelled. The nagging feeling inside his stomach grew until he felt as if he would vomit. The king of the north, Arya's brother...dead, he thought.

His feet moved without his approval. They moved him towards the man, who by the looks of him wasn't in the best shape. He was bleeding, and holding his right arm as if it were broken. Gendry did not care about any of that as he pushed the men out of his way. He came at the man, grabbing the front of his shirt before any of the brotherhood could stop him. The man stared at him, his eyes wide in fear.

"What did you say?" Gendry said, shaking the man.

"Gendry, release him," Dondarrion demanded.

Gendry ignored him, shaking the man again. "What did you say!" he screamed.

"T—they killed the King of the North...in cold blood, just k—killed him!" the man cried.

It felt as if the man had taken a cold dagger to Gendry's stomach. The bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down. Sweat began to break out on his forehead as he continued to shake the man.

Gendry could get only one word through his clenched jaw. "Arya," he breathed.

The man didn't answer him, as if he didn't understand that that was a question. "What about Arya?" Gendry said, his voice strained.

The man shook his head, his eyes still wide. "Th—they're all dead. I barely made it out myself," he whispered. Gendry stared at the man, not wanting to believe him.

"Oh gods no," he heard one of the brotherhood say low.

Gendry felt hands grab him as Dondarrion and two other men pulled him away from the injured man. They held him tight as horrible images of death and blood filled Gendry's head. A horror, such as he had never seen before, played in his mind like a broken record, and it all lead to him standing over the body of Arya.

"No!" he said harshly, fighting against the hands that held him.

"I need you to remain calm right now, until we can figure out what has happened here," Dondarrion whispered in his ear.

It did nothing to calm the raging in his mind, did nothing to calm the horrible feeling that filled his body. "We delivered a girl to the Twins days ago. Her name is Arya, King Robb's sister, have you any knowledge of her fate?" Dondarrion asked the injured man.

The man looked up at him, tears streaming down his dirty face. "I saw her but for a moment. If you delivered her there before that horrible day, she is lost to you," the man answered.

It was enough to destroy Gendry in one single moment. He tore his arms away from the men holding him with a strength none of them were prepared for, not even Dondarrion. As soon as he was free, he ran past the injured man, ignoring the calls for him to stop. Grabbing the first horse he could find, he climbed up and began to ride. He did not care that he had no supplies, did not care that it was mid-day already. He did not care that it was a two day journey. All he cared about was getting to the Twins and getting to Arya, because his mind refused to believe that she was gone. He refused to believe in anything other than he would arrive there and take her away with him. He swore to himself, swore to her that when he found her he would not let her go.

"Not ever again!" he breathed as tears filled his eyes again.

He rode fast and hard, not daring to stop. Gendry did not even realize when he had company. Dondarrion and the Brotherhood had caught up with him, but he would not, refused, to stop for them. They could call his name all they wanted. They could try to ride him down, but he would not yield, not until Arya was in his arms again.

But stop he did. The horse gave him no choice as it whined against the strain of riding without rest and water. It slowed on its own, even as Gendry whipped it to ride on. The horse tried to buck him, but he held on. It stopped, refusing to move. Gendry climbed down, pushing the massive beast out of his way and began walking on foot.

"Gendry! You must stop this, now!" Dondarrion yelled at him.

Gendry ignored the man, continuing to walk. This way would take much longer, but he dared not stop. He heard Dondarrion ride up behind him, until the man stood in his path. Gendry looked up at him with angered eyes only to see anger staring back at him.

"Use your head, son! Stop allowing your emotions to make your decisions. You cannot simply walk up to the gates of the Twins and demand them to release Arya...if she is still alive," Dondarrion said, his words measured.

"Out. Of. My. Way," Gendry ground out.

"Do not make me restrain you, Gendry. I am still the leader here, and we will do this my way! Allow your horse to drink and rest. As soon as we all have had a break, we will continue together," Dondarrion said, not moving an inch.

"And if they kill her while we are resting?" Gendry spat. "I'll rest when she's with me."

He walked around Dondarrion. The man never stopped him. On his own two feet, his horse forgotten, Gendry began walking the rest of the way to the Twins. In his mind, he heard Nymeria's howling. In his eyes, he could see the red streak in the sky. In his heart, he knew the two were connected, and he knew Arya was connected to it all. He knew it with every fiber of his being, but his heart refused to believe it. She was fine, safe, and she would be waiting for him when he got there. If it came down to it, Gendry would fight his way through every guard he had to to reach her.

Hours into his walk, he heard the Brotherhood riding behind him. He looked to his left, seeing movement. Dondarrion rode beside him leading a riderless horse...his horse. He stopped long enough to grab the reigns and pull himself atop the horse. As soon as his feet were planted, he kicked the horse into action. Storming down the darkened path, he left the other men in his dust.

On the second day, as the sun rose in the horizon, the Twins came in to view. Gendry watched the towers floating in his vision. In the sky above, the red streak he had seen days ago had grown until it seemed the whole sky was filled with what looked like red flames. His heart jerked into his throat, almost choking him in grief. Dondarrion and the others caught up with him, matching his gallops with their own.

When they made it to the gates of the Twins, Gendry was off his horse before he could think. Before he could take a step onto Frey land, he was grabbed from behind. The men held him still as he fought to break free. As Dondarrion passed him, he looked at the man with loathing in his eyes. He would kill him for stopping him from getting to Arya. He would kill him and Dondarrion wouldn't be able to come back from it.

"You give me no choice, Gendry," the man said softly.

He had no choice but to watch Dondarrion turn his back on him and walked towards the gates of the Twins. The guards were waiting, watching with weary eyes as the walking dead-man reached them. He stopped with a wide berth between them.

"What do you want?" one of the guards said.

"We only wish to see what has transpired here. Lord Frey obviously wanted it known if he allowed even one person to go free. Allow us to pass to witness with our own eyes," Dondarrion answered.

The guards exchanged looks. Finally, one of them nodded his head, stopping Dondarrion just before he walked through. "You leave them be. Do not disturb anything that you see, is that understood? What you see here is a sign that treachery will not be condoned, not by the lord of this land."

Dondarrion turned to his men, nodding his head for them to follow. His eyes landed on Gendry, lingering there for a moment. "Bring the boy to me," he said.

Gendry was forced forward, stepping in line with Dondarrion. Still restrained, they walked him through the gates of the Twins, and what awaited them caused his mind to explode. The grounds below the first tower were soaked in dried blood. Bloated bodies lay scattered as far as the eye could see. They had been out there for days, some of them already crows food. All around him, Gendry heard gasps and cries of shock.

"Seven hells," Dondarrion whispered beside him.

Gendry did not want to look, so afraid he would see the half-eaten corpse of Arya. He fought against the anguish trying to overtake him. They were dead, every last one of them.

"Where is King Robb's body?" Dondarrion asked.

One of the guards pointed to a mound of bodies before them. Gendry followed his finger, until he looked upon a sight that no man, good or evil, should have ever been forced to see. Built as high as a small mountain lay the bodies of hundreds of men. None of them were recognizable, as they had all been burned. Risen above them, nailed to a stake, was a grotesque sight. Gendry raised his eyes, not daring to believe what he saw. What hung above the mound of burned bodies was a body of a man, but the head was that of a direwolf.

"Behold, the King of the North," one of the guards said laughing.

His arms were outstretched, as if to welcome all that entered the gates. The direwolf's head had been sewed to his body where his human head should have been. Gendry choked on the bile that had made it to his mouth, looking away and taking deep breaths.

"How could you have defiled him?" someone asked angrily.

The guards continued to laugh, not paying any mind to the anger beginning to rise within the Brotherhood. "You have came here to look, and now you have seen. Your welcome is short lived, and it is best you leave...now! Our courtesy is running thin," the guard said.

Gendry felt the men holding him begin to turn him. No, he could not leave without Arya. She was in there somewhere, and he had to get to her. He began to fight against their hold, screaming for them to release him, when something caught the light of the sun. He froze immediately, whispering for them to wait one second.

"Please," he begged, not taking his eyes away from the thing that shown brightly.

Time stood still. The air around him became thick, almost to the point that he could not breath. His eyes saw, but his mind refused to believe. Gendry jerked his arms free, and surprisingly, they let him go. He stumbled forward, his legs refusing to work properly, yet he never looked away at the object that held his attention. He staggered forward, even as the guards demanded for him to stop. Gendry would not have stopped, even if they tried to physically restrain him.

Tears ran down his wide-eyes. His heart beat in his throat, causing him to choke on the sob threatening to come out. He came to the mound of burned bodies, looking upon the body that sat just below King Robb's defiled body. Without thought, or sanity, he began climbing to the top. His hands grabbed body parts, too charred to recognize. His feet stepped on humans too horrible to look upon. But none of that mattered as his eyes stared at the one thing that broke everything within him. Even the shouting from the guards could not cut into his mind.

Gendry reached a shaking hand slowly towards a body about the size of Arya. It, like all the others, was burned beyond recognition, yet it held one thing the other bodies did not. He turned to the other men.

"Help me!" he screamed at them.

No one moved for what seemed like an eternity. Gendry did not wait, but grabbed the charred body and drug it towards him. The act alone almost caused him to break mentally. The smell had him turning his head and gagging. He had known what the smell of burning flesh was like, but it filled his nose and seeped into his pores tenfold.

Below him, some of the Brotherhood had stepped up to help him. As gently as he could, he lowered the charred body down to them. They reached out, hesitantly, but reached out they did. They laid the body on the ground as Gendry slid his way back down the mound of bodies. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he fell to his knees.

The men stepped back as Gendry crawled the rest of the way towards the body. His fingers slowly reached out and touched the blackened wrist. There, lying as perfectly as the day he hd made it, was Arya's bracelet. When his fingers touched the cool surface, Gendry slammed his eyes closed. His mouth came open, letting out the sob and scream he so desperately tried to keep in.

He did not care who heard him, did not care the eyes that were watching him in his unbearable grief. Arya lay before him, burned beyond recognition, but the bracelet was untouched. He grabbed the body, bringing it to his chest and screaming her name.

"No!" he screamed. "Gods no! Not her!"

He rocked her body back and forth, his screams and cries matching those of Nymeria. Everything poured out of him. His love for her. His unimaginable pain. His failure to protect her. Everything he could possibly feel fell from his mouth in the forms of his screams. She was unrecognizable, yet in his mind he could see her beautiful face. He could see her eyes staring up at him in accusation. He could see her soft lips, words of his betrayal floating from them.

"ARYA!" he screamed.

He looked down at where her face should have been, only to see a blackened hole. His tears fell upon her as he continued to scream her name.

"You're not dead," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry!"

He continued rocking her body back and forth, even as Dondarrion and the others stepped forward to drag him away. There was no strength left in him to fight, so as they drug him away, he had no choice but to go with them. They pried the body out of his hands. The moment he let her go, he felt as if they had taken a part of himself away. The men carried him more than he walked.

They were escorted out of the gates of the Twins. The men sat Gendry on the ground as he looked ahead, but saw nothing. Every moment he had spent with Arya, every beautiful and scary moment, floated through his mind as he turned to look where she lay. She had been the first person to ever trust him without question. He had never known such loyalty and the first moment he got the chance he had stepped on that loyalty. He had caused her death, as if he were the one that set the fire to her beautiful skin. He had nothing now, nothing but a growing fury. He had nothing but a growing vengeance he had never felt before. The road he feared watching Arya go down was now the road he found himself on, and it burned within him like wildfire. There was no quenching it. There was no putting it out. The longer he sat staring at her body, the wider it grew, until he felt the flames licking every part of him. Someone had to pay. Someone had to feel the pure anguish that he was feeling at that moment.

The men got him to his feet, turning him away from evil that lay on Frey land. They walked in silence, no one knowing quite what to say. Gendry walked like a man already dead. He did not feel his foot take one step in front of the other, and if not for the men on both sides of him, he would have fallen to the ground.

She's gone. She's gone, he said over and over, until he knew no other words to say.

The Brotherhood stopped close to a river, for Gendry could hear the water running softly. They left him there as they went and drank of the cool water. When one of the men brought him some to drink, he turned his head, not wanting anything that would bring him satisfaction. I caused her death. It is me that is the murderer, he thought.

"We should go back and kill them all!" one of the men yelled.

"They deserve nothing better," another said.

"We will do no such thing...not yet anyway," Dondarrion demanded.

"We call for vengeance in the name of the King of the North!" screamed someone.

"And vengeance is what you will receive."

Everyone turned to the man that had spoken, even Gendry. He had seldom heard the man speak, so when he would speak people would listen. Thoros of Myr was slowly walking towards Gendry. His eyes stared into the boy, as if staring into his soul. Gendry looked up at the man, his face red and swollen from his grief.

"Vengeance will be poured throughout this land, stretching and growing like the wildfires I have seen in my days. It will not stop, will not be quenched, until there is nothing left in its sights. Vengeance will be a sweet name to call what is to come. I have seen it, and the gods help all who stand in its way. The wildfire will devour all, until its vengeance is satisfied, which it will never be satisfied."

He stood in front of Gendry, his eyes continuing to stare, and Gendry knew the man was looking inside him. He saw into his soul, saw the wildfire that had grown and continued to grow. He knew Thoros was speaking of him. Gendry knew the moment he held Arya's charred body in his arms that he would never stop until everyone who had a hand in her death was dead themselves. A blacksmith he was not, but a man afire with vengeance. They. Would. Pay.

Thoros reached towards Gendry's hand, taking it in his own. With his other hand, he laid something cool in his palm. Gendry looked down, seeing Arya's bracelet sitting there. Yes, he would kill them all and then, he would take care of the true betrayer. He would take his vengeance out upon himself.

Chapter 21: The Wolf and The Hound

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"Gendry. Gendry," Arya whispered from parched lips.

The fever had spiked, sending her into a world of blackness. She couldn't move, couldn't find the strength to come back into the light. She withered on the forest floor for two days fighting the poison that Lady Frey had given her. The poison that had saved her life and kept her away from being at the wedding that took her mother, brother and so many of his men. When she would come back to the light, only briefly, she was aware of a presence around her. Arya's mind was too fuzzy to remember what had occurred.

"Gendry," she whispered again. Her eyes were half-opened, but saw nothing.

"He's not here," answered a gruff voice.

Before she could stop herself, she fell into the darkness once more and shut out the light around her. The hours passed with her knowing nothing but sleep.

Finally, the fever began to break, and Arya felt herself coming out of the dead of blackness. She swam to the surface of consciousness, aware of the sounds around her. She kept her eyes shut, listening for any movement. Someone was there with her, someone close. She could hear them breathing, could smell their musty scent in her nose.

"I know you're awake," the voice said.

As soon as she heard him speak, everything rushed back to her. It hit her square in the chest. She remembered watching her brother being brutally murdered, her mother not long after her brother. She remembered narrowly escaping death herself, only to be taken by The Hound. It was he who had just spoken. Hate surged within her at the thought of that man being so close to her. She would kill him, kill him as soon as she could.

Arya opened her eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight even through the large trees. They were in the middle of the forest. She was laying on her back, her hands and feet tied. Her shoulder was screaming in pain, as was her neck and back. Arya had been laying there for a while, and the stiffness was felt throughout her body. She tried to move, only to smother a cry of pain from her shoulder.

The Hound moved towards her, and Arya snapped her eyes towards him. She stilled at once, watching him. The moment their eyes met, he stilled himself. For what seemed like forever, they just stared at one another. What she wouldn't give to be free. What she wouldn't give to have a blade in her hand to thrust in into the man's chest. He must have seen the hatred in her eyes, for his face turned dark.

"I'll sit you up, girl, but if you so much as try and run, I'll tie you to a tree. Not that you will get anywhere with your hands and feet tied. Do we have a deal?"

For a moment, Arya didn't answer him, but the longer she lay there the worse her shoulder hurt. Finally, she nodded her head in agreement. The Hound grabbed the front of her shirt, sitting her up, none too gently, against the bark of a nearby tree. He moved away from her, plopping down onto the ground. Arya studied him for a moment, seeing how his hideous face looked tired, as if he had not slept in weeks.

"You saved me. Why?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

He began to start a fire, not looking up at her or answering her for a few moments. Arya looked away from him in disgust.

"I ask the questions, girl," he said, finally.

Arya rolled her eyes. As if she would agree to that. "Doesn't mean I'll answer them," she commented.

"How did you escape King's Landing?" He stared.

Arya ignored him, looking off into the distance instead. Where was she? How far was she away from the Twins? At the thought of the Twins, she felt an horrible pain hit her and she winced under it's pressure. Arya closed her eyes, which did nothing but make it worse, for she saw her mother and brother's dead bodies littering the Great Room. They were dead...all of them dead.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She tried to suck in a breath, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate. She would not lose it in front of this man, not in front of The Hound. Arya's eyes shot open, yet she could not shake the image of watching Robb's head being cut off, or of her mother's neck being cut.

"Arya," the Hound called her roughly.

She ignored him, so caught up in her grief that she could not shake it. Her father...dead. Her mother...dead. Her brothers...dead. Sansa and Jon...more than likely dead. They had all left her behind. They had all left her in this horrible world. Arya wasn't aware when the Hound grabbed her and drug her forward. She wasn't aware that he sat her beside a river. Only when he pushed her head forward into the icy water did she come to herself again. Her grief and pain ebbed just long enough for her to break the surface of the water and suck in a large breath of air. Still, through it all, not a single tear fell from her eyes.

Arya lay on her back, staring up past the trees towards the red streak in the sky. It burned the blue sky like fire. The Hound sat on balls of his feet, looking down on her with wary eyes. She ignored him, choosing to lose herself in the fire of the sky. How much more was she to endure? How many more would be taken away from her, until the gods were satisfied. She cursed her father's gods, just as she cursed her mother's gods. They had done nothing but take from her everyone she loved. In her mind, she spat in their faces, mocking them for the phonies they were. The only god she would respect would be the god of Death, for he was the only one that showed himself to be true.

When The Hound picked her up to take her back towards the fire, she did not fight him. She would take her time, finding the right moment, and then she would free herself from his grasps, hopefully killing him in the process. He sat her back down in front of the tree, and began making the fire again. No words were spoken for the rest of the day.

As the sun gave way to the moon, the fire burned brightly. The Hound had cooked a rabbit for them to share, but when he walked towards Arya to give it to her, she turned her head away. He threw the meat at her feet, the dirt and twigs sticking to it. She looked down upon her and, though she was hungry, she kicked it right back to him. He stared at her for a moment, shaking his head. Picking the dirty meat up, The Hound began eating it. Arya looked away from him and out into the darkness.

Where are you, Gendry? Where are you, she thought.

"Where are you taking me?" Arya finally asked. It was well after midnight, but she knew that he wasn't asleep. She could barely make out the flames dancing in his opened eyes. He was lying on his back, one arm held behind his head as a pillow.

"I've been following you ever since the Brotherhood without Banners picked you and your friends up. The day they took you, I had planned to strike then. I was going to ransom you to your brother in hopes of winning a place in his services, but I guess Lord Frey took care of that for me. So, I guess I will take you to your aunt at the Eyrie."

"You could take me to the Brotherhood."

"You mean take you to that bastard boy of yours? And get myself hung? I'm not that stupid, girl. The moment I step foot on their land they will hang me," the Hound said, laughing.

"I wouldn't let them kill you." Because I will be the one to kill you, she thought.

He stared at her for a moment, as if thinking on what she had said. She jumped when he burst out laughing. "You do take me for being stupid, do you not? I see the hatred in your eyes. I know what's running around in that little head of yours. You'd not think twice to taking a dagger to my neck and slitting my throat."

Arya looked away from him, not finding it in herself to deny it. Somehow, she would have to find a way out of the binds on her hands and feet and make a run for it. She was fast, possibly faster than The Hound, and she could hide in the forest, until she knew it was safe to make a run back towards the Brotherhood's camp. It would mean going past the Twins, but what choice did she have? She would not go to her aunt.

"You are not like her," the Hound said softly. "So very different."

Arya turned her eyes slowly back towards his hideous face. He was watching her, his look unreadable. The anger and brooding was gone. In its place was calm. She had never seen him look this way before.

"You are uglier, though," he finished.

Arya flinched, though she did not know why. It took a few minutes for her to realize who The Hound was comparing her to. Sansa's face floated into her mind, and she remembered seeing how The Hound watched her sister. Even then, Arya could tell the man was enamored with her. Arya opened her mouth and began to laugh, though there was no humor behind it. She doubted she would ever laugh with humor again. There was nothing funny about this life anymore. Yet the laughter grew, until the tears were running down her face in the effort.

"Shut up!" The Hound warned.

Arya could not have shut up even if she had wanted to. It was just so sad that he loved someone like Sansa, someone who would rather crawl in dirt that allow him to touch her.

"I said shut up!" he screamed.

Arya calmed her laughter, only to strike at him with her words. "You think my sister would ever look upon you as you do her? You foul being. She would rather be spit upon than allow you anywhere near her," Arya seethed.

"I warn you now, girl. I am not above hitting a woman. I will strike you down if you do not shut that hole in your face!"

"And if you think that I am going to sit here and allow myself to be played in your twisted fascination of my sister, you are dead wrong, dog!" Arya bit out.

The Hound scrambled to his feet, lurching himself towards Arya and grabbing the front of her shirt. He twisted the fabric in his fist, his other fist going back and ready to strike. His teeth were bared, his breath coming out heavy and fast. His eyes were a blazed with furious anger.

"Do it, dog. It will be the only time you'll ever touch a Stark girl," Arya whispered.

He jerked away from her, staggering backwards. He turned his back on her, trying to calm the rage within him, but Arya wasn't finished. Not even close.

"Do you ignore Sansa's face when she looks at your scars? Do you look away when she looks at you, repulsed? She would rather Joffrey fuck her than have your hands anywhere near her!"

The Hound spun around, bringing his sword out. He held the tip towards Arya, advancing on her. Do it, she thought. Strike me down and make this pain end! The Hound raised the tip of the blade and plunged it towards Arya's head. She closed her eyes, waiting for the nothingness to take her, but it never came. As the moments slipped away, she opened her eyes to see his sword hanging above her head. He had plunged it into the bark of the tree, inches from the top of her skull.

In quick movements, he was on his knees, grabbing her and jerking her towards him. His face was inches from her own. His eyes were wild with insanity. She had pushed him past his breaking point and all she could do was snarl.

"What about you, girl? Think that bastard gave two shits about you? He allowed you to leave without him. He allowed you to run into the snake pit and watch your fucking brother and mother get slaughtered. You think he loves you? You're just as weak and pathetic as I am," the Hound whispered.

The snarl died on Arya's face, no matter how much she tried to hold it there. His words had cut deeper than she wanted to admit. The Hound saw it and began to smile. "Let. Me. Go," Arya growled.

"Not so tough now, are we? You are just as clueless as that bastard boy. Don't even know who he is."

The Hound released her, sending her back towards the tree. She stared at him, the last of his words not making sense. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

The Hound stood up and walked back to his place on the cold, hard floor. He never answered her, nor did she ask again. She heard the Hound curse under his breath, as he got back to his feet and moved towards her again. Arya watched him warily, wondering what he was about to do. His massive hand came towards her, but it was not her he was reaching for. He jerked his sword from the bark with more cursing. He had almost made a grave mistake and left the sword above her head where she could have easily reached it...almost.

"The Sweetling, The Mountain, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound. Valar morghulis," Arya whispered throughout the night. When she said The Hound's name, she made sure to say it loud enough to where he could hear her. "The Sweetling, The Mountain, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound. Valar morghulis." It went on and on, until The Hound sat up sharply.

"Shut up, shut up, shut...up!" he growled low.

Arya turned her head towards him. "The Sweetling, The Mountain, Joffrey, Cersei, Illyn Payne, The Hound. Valar morghulis!" she screamed.

He jumped to his feet, running towards her and slamming his hand onto her mouth hard. She bit her tongue in the process, causing the blood to ooze down her throat. Her eyes were slits of rage watching him so close.

"The Mountain is mine, girl. Get that through your head right now. Take him off that list of yours, and I know what that list is. The Mountain is mine!" he seethed.

His hand dropped from her mouth slowly. She did not speak, not until he was walking back to his bed made of grass. "I'll kill you first," she whispered to him.

"And I just might let you," he answered back as he laid back down.

For the rest of the night, she said her list silently, starting with The Hound. She would kill him, slowly and surly. She would kill him.

The next day, The Hound grabbed her up from where she was sleeping, waking her with a start. He jerked her to her feet, which she found were loose from the bind. Blinking back the sleep, she looked down at her feet and wiggled them. Though her hands were still bound, he had actually released her feet.

Stupid fucker, she thought.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out her small dagger. It was still caked with blood, and before she could stop herself, she took a step towards it. The Hound looked up at her, smiling. He knew what she was thinking, knew she wanted that dagger as badly as she wanted to get away from him.

"You run from me, and this dagger will be thrown into your back, girl," he growled.

"I want to wash up," she said. "I still have blood all over me.

He stared at her, wondering if it was a trap. He looked around, as if he didn't know quite how to respond to her change of subject. It was true, Arya really did want to bathe in the river before they left. With a growl of annoyance, he walked towards her, grabbing her arm roughly and pushing her forward.

They came to the river and stopped. The Hound did not move, as if he meant to stand there and watch her bathe. "Untie my hands," she said.

"Forget it," he responded.

Arya huffed. "How am I supposed to wash myself with my hands tied behind my back, stupid! Untie me. You have the dagger to plunge in my back if I try to run," she finished, mocking him.

It took a few moments, but finally, The Hound began to untie her hands. As soon as her wrists were free, she rubbed the ache within them. Feeling the bare flesh where the bracelet used to sit, Arya felt her heart squeeze. Where was her bracelet now? Horribly, she knew the bracelet was still at the Twins in the hands of the servant. The loss of it was enormous, almost as much as the loss of her family.

"We don't have all day!"

Arya turned around to look at him. He was watching her, his face growing red with his anger. "I'm not bathing with you watching. Turn around or something. You think I want you thinking of me like you do my sister?" she said, just to get under his skin.

"Girl, I'm going to fucking..." he said, raising the dagger in his hands. "Okay, okay...damn, calm down," Arya broke through his growls, sliding into the cold water with her clothes on.

The water soaked into her clothes, washing the sweat, dirt and blood from her skin. She relished the feel of it seeping into her pores. Holding her breath, Arya slid underneath the water. She stayed there, even after her lungs screamed for air. It would be so easy to stay under. It would be so easy to let it all go. The water felt nice, felt cold on her hot skin. All she had to do was let her will to live go, and all the hurt and pain she was refusing to acknowledge would die along with her. The pain of her family's death, too raw and consuming for her allow to take hold of her, would be gone. Nothing would ever be able to hurt her again, only if she would allow herself to stay below the water.

What do we say to the god of Death? It was Gendry's voice again. The voice that had saved her from certain death. He floated to her mind, his words whispered in her ear. What do we say to the god of Death?

Only this time, the answer wasn't not today. This time Arya opened her arms, giving the god of Death permission to take her. She saw her family's faces again. She saw her father and Robb. She saw her mother, Bran and Rickon. Even Sansa and Jon were there in her mind, and she opened her mouth to drink in a gulp of water and let the last of her breath go. She was ready, ready to be rid of it all. Not even the thought of Gendry's face could save her this time. Not even the thought of returning to him could make her fight, for she knew she would not be returning to him. He was lost to her, just as lost as her family was to her. Gendry was as good as dead to her. It was the final thought that broke everything within her. It was all it took for Arya Stark to die in the cold river.

Strong arms grabbed her around the waist, thrusting her towards the surface of the water. When her head broke through, she refused to take a breath, refused to believe that the god of Death didn't take her. Behind her, she could hear The Hound breathing hard. He held her tightly to him, but she had no strength to fight him. She had no strength to do anything but to open her mouth and allow the sobs to wreck her body. Finally, the tears came. Finally, she was grieving for her family. The Hound did not try to stop her, but remained silent and holding her as she looked towards the heavens and sobbed her grief and curses. She had been so close to joining them, so close to letting it all go, but The Hound had even taken that away from her.

"This isn't the way, Arya," he whispered. "This isn't the way."

How would he ever know what the way was? What did he know about her pain? But she allowed him to continue to hold her, for at least she could pretend it was Gendry's strong arms around her. The Hound had gotten something wrong, though. He had called her Arya, but what he didn't realize is that he had left Arya at the bottom of the river. Somewhere down there, she had given up. The girl he held tightly to him was nothing. She went down as Arya Stark, but as her head arose from the water, she came back as no one

Chapter 22: Ours Is The Fury

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"Lord Beric! Lord Beric, come quick!" someone shouted.

Dondarrion turned away from where he was talking softly with Gendry, trying to ease the boy's pain. Gendry had stared ahead, not acknowledging anything he had said to him. Now, his head moved to where the man stood and walked towards. They were fishing something out of the river, but Gendry could not see from his vantage point. He did not care to look, only to hold the bracelet tightly in his hands. He brought it up to his lips, wishing for nothing more than to be able to smell Arya, but all he could smell was burnt flesh.

"Move her slowly...yes, bring her right here," Dondarrion directed.

This got Gendry's attention. He moved his eyes slowly back towards the group of men at the river. He could see them carrying something, something that looked like a body. He stood to his feet, though he didn't want to. Slowly, his pain forgotten for just a brief moment, he walked towards where they laid the body. The men stepped back as not a word was spoken. The silence hung in the air, thick and heavy.

Dondarrion knelt before the body, pushing the hair back, and as the face was revealed, Gendry looked away. She had been floating in the river for days, her skin waterlogged and milk-white There was no missing the slash in her neck, and Gendry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Her eyes had been open and staring, but not seeing.

"Lady Stark," Dondarrion whispered.

Gendry's head whipped back around, and he pushed his way forward. That name alone would cause him to move the mountains out of his way if he had to. The men allowed him through. He came to a stop, standing above her and staring into her disfigured face. Her eyes looked at him, but they did not move. Half of her hair was gone, while what was left had turned white. Her face and neck had looked as though someone had clawed most of her flesh away. She was a hideous sight to behold, yet Gendry could not look away. This dead woman was a link to Arya.

"Thoros, save her...you can save her," Harwin cried.

The man was knelt beside Darrion, tears pouring from his eyes. Gendry had forgotten that the man was Ned Stark's man. He knew Lady Stark personally. His grief was just as evident as Gendry's. "Save this woman!" he yelled.

Gendry turned to Thoros. The man looked saddened as he shook his softly. "She has been dead in the water too long, my friend. To save her would be a worse fate than that of death. Let her go to her gods and be at peace," he said, turning to walk away.

"Thoros, it did not stop you from saving me, time and time again. I agree with Harwin, save Lady Stark," Dondarrion chimed in.

"You were different," Thoros said.

He began walking down the path leading back to the camp, not waiting for anyone to follow. Gendry watched him for a few moments before turning his eyes back to the dead woman. For a moment, he thought of Arya's charred body. Would he have had the strength to beg Thoros to save her, even in such a state that she was in? Could he have been that selfish? A cold hand touched his heart as he realized that, yes, he could have been that selfish. With his sanity on the brink, he thought it would have been better to have her that way than not at all. Gendry only had moments to run from the group of men into the forest.

He grabbed a hold of a large tree as the contents of his stomach came rushing out of his mouth. In violent jerks, he vomited everything his stomach held, which wasn't much. He had glimpsed, just for a moment, Arya's faceless body walking around. He had glimpsed her charred hands reaching for him, smelling of burnt flesh. And it would have been his selfishness that would have brought that scene to pass.

"Let us continue forward men. We have a long way to go, and I want to be as far away from this carnage as possible. I feel a curse upon this land," Dondarrion announced. He turned to three of his men, "Bring Lady Stark's body." They did as he instructed.

Gendry stayed close to her, just so he could look upon her when he felt the need arise within him. As they walked through the day and most of the night, the men carrying her were becoming tired. One stumbled, almost dropping her. Gendry stepped up, tapping the man on the shoulder and moving him aside. He took Lady Stark into his arms, helping the men carry her.

This is Arya's mother. This is Arya's mother, he chanted, over and over. When he felt her waterlogged skin move unnaturally underneath his hands, he chanted, as to not let the bile overtake him again. When he looked over at her, seeing her scarred and hideous face close to his, he would chant.

Finally, the men stopped to rest. They had walked a good ways closer to the Brotherhood's camp, but they had a few more hours to go. Gendry and the men carrying Lady Stark lowered her to the ground and fell where they stood. Gendry tried not to look at the woman, but even in death she called to him. He was desperate to see Arya in the woman, desperate for any features they shared, but even death had taken that from him. Lady Stark looked nothing like her daughter.

"Thoros, I am asking you as a friend, please do this for me!"

Gendry heard Dondarrion, Harwin and Thoros whispering while the men slept. He was laying on his back, close to Lady Stark's body, but he was no where near sleep. Instead, he picked his head up and listened to the conversation going on.

"I said no! You do not know what you are asking of me, Beric! I cannot bring her back. Let us bury her and be done with it!" Thoros pleaded.

"No!" Harwin hissed. "Lord Stark is dead! King Robb is dead! Princess Arya is dead! Probably all of the Starks are dead. We have a chance to bring one of them back! Do this, Thoros."

"I do not answer to you," Thoros seethed.

"No, but you do answer to me! Please, brother. Do this," Dondarrion said, softly.

Thoros turned is back on Dondarrion and Harwin, shaking his head repeatedly from side to side. "No," he whispered.

Harwin threw his hands up in the air in frustration, but Dondarrion remained calm. He took one, long breath before walking to Thoros and laying his hand on the man's shoulder. Thoros turned his pained eyes to his friend. "Then you leave me no choice," Dondarrion whispered.

He turned from the man, his eyes going towards Lady Stark's body. "W—what are you doing, Beric?"

Thoros asked.

"What you will not."

"Beric!" Thoros screamed, waking the men. Everyone sat up, looking around in alarm. Most of the men unsheathed their swords thinking their was an attack. They all looked to their leader, but he had his eyes only on Lady Stark.

"You will all take care of each other, your brothers. You will remember what we stand for and who we fight for! No matter what happens, the Brotherhood will endure," Dondarrion said, kneeling before her body.

"Stop this madness!" Thoros yelled.

Gendry's eyes were wide as he watched Dondarrion. He had no clue what the man was about to do, yet he could not pull away from Lady Stark's body. He sat frozen, watching, as across from him Dondarrion took Lady Stark into his arms.

"Stop him! Someone stop him!" Thoros cried. But no man moved, all frozen and watching like Gendry.

"Death for a life," Dondarrion whispered as he placed his lips upon Lady Stark's lips.

Gendry was so close that he could hear the breath leave Dondarrion's body and travel into hers. His dead eyes went wide for a moment, fear and something else floating through them. Gendry was about to reach over and pull them apart when something caught his eye. He looked down at Lady Stark's chest and gasped. Starting slowly, but building in momentum, it began to move, as if air was passing through her dead body. Gendry's eyes shot up, looking to Dondarrion and seeing him just as the light went out in his eyes. The man let go of Lady Stark, falling forward never to move again.

A loud gasp pierced the silence around the men and Gendry scrambled backwards as Lady Stark's eyes began looking around wildly. The men scattered away from her, leaving Gendry the closest one. He was frozen where he sat. Staring at the dead woman, he watched her sit up slowly. Beside her, Dondarrion lay face-first, and Gendry realized what had happened. The man had given his life for Lady Stark. She now held his life force within her.

"No!" Thoros cried. "No!"

Lady Stark turned her head slowly around, facing each one of the men. Some of them turned away, too frightened to look into her face. Others stared at her in shock and fascination. Gendry was in the latter group. Her eyes continued to move around the group, until they came to Gendry. Her dead eyes stared at him, almost as if she were looking through him.

Before he knew what was happening, she was on her feet and lunging towards him. Gendry tried to scramble back, but her hands found their mark around his throat. He was blown away at her power, finding he could not remove her hands from his neck. Lady Stark squeezed, causing him to gasp out loud. The men around him began to yell at her to release him, some bringing their swords out. Quickly, she stood to her feet, bringing Gendry up with her. With power beyond anyone's wildest dreams, she slung him into he air, throwing him a good few yards away. Gendry landed on his back hard, feeling the air being knocked from his body.

Lady Stark ran to him, knocking anyone out of her way who had the courage to defend Gendry. Her hands were around his throat again, squeezing him. Her lips were moving, yet no sound came from her mouth. He stared at her, trying desperately to understand what she was saying, but it was no use.

"Let him go, Catelyn!" Harwin screamed.

She moved her head to the side, just enough to look at the man. Her teeth were bared, her lips continuing to move. Her hands remained on Gendry's neck. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything but how he would die underneath her power. He thought of how he would be joining Arya soon, and he took comfort in that thought as he stopped fighting against her. His hands came up, the bracelet dangling from his fingers, and laid his hands upon hers.

Harwin slowly walked towards Lady Stark, staring at her lips, as if trying to read what she was saying. Over the drumming in his ears, Gendry could hear the man mumbling words to the dead woman, but there was no response from her. She continued to stare at him and mouth her words, continued to squeeze Gendry's neck.

"Baratheon," Harwin whispered.

She turned her eyes away from Harwin, looking back down at Gendry. Her head began to nod, as her eyes looked down at the bracelet he was holding. Something flashed in her eyes, something that looked like sorrow. One moment, she was squeezing him, and the next, she was slithering away. Her eyes were staring at the bracelet in his hands as Gendry sucked in a large breath, not sure how in the world he was still alive. She did not stop slithering away, until she ran into Dondarrion's body. Her eyes never left the bracelet, not even when Harwin walked slowly to her and knelt down. He reached out, touching her arm gently, yet she did not look away.

"It is going to be alright now, Lady Catelyn. You are safe," he whispered.

She stood to her feet with Harwin's help. Slowly, she walked back towards Gendry, who was now sitting up and rubbing his neck. He scrambled to his feet, waiting for her to attack again, but it never came. There was anger in her eyes when she looked upon him, but when her eyes looked at the bracelet he saw sadness. She reached a disfigured hand out towards his, and he jerked away from her. She began mouthing something, but he could not understand her. Frustrated, she turned her face towards Harwin. After several moments of concentration, he nodded his head.

"The bracelet. She wants to see the bracelet," Harwin replied.

When she reached down and took his hand this time, he did not fight her. Her fingers were cold, unnaturally so. He stilled the shutter within him as she raised his hand to her face. No matter what, no matter who this woman was, he would not release the bracelet. It was all he had left of Arya. Lady Stark stared at it, her eyes filling with tears, yet none of them fell. She began mouthing words again, but this time Gendry recognized what she was saying, and it was like daggers shooting into his heart. Her lips trembled as she mouthed her daughter's name. Arya's name fell from the woman's lips silently.

Her eyes closed briefly before they opened and looked up at Gendry. She lightly touched his neck where her fingerprints were showing in ugly red whelps. Reaching down, she grabbed the hand that held the bracelet and squeezed. Her mouth began to move, and it took Gendry only seconds to recognize his name on her lips.

"Yes," he croaked. "I'm Gendry."

She began to mouth his name and something else, but he could not understand it. She turned back to Harwin, frustrated.

"Gendry," the man said slowly. "Gendry..." he stopped. "Gendry...Baratheon?"

Lady Stark nodded her head once, looking back towards Gendry. He jerked his hand out of her, shaking his head. "Sorry lady, it's just Gendry," he whispered, turning from her.

The men were staring at him as a murmur began to grow. Gendry felt uncomfortable being the center of attention, and decided to walk further into the forest. He left the murmuring and Lady Stark behind him. When he felt he was far enough, he began to pace. Baratheon, why would she call me that, he thought. His mother's face floated in his vision and he forced his eyes closed. Lady Stark had him mistaken him for someone else. He did not know his last name, did not know who his father had been, and it sure hadn't been a Baratheon. An hour passed, and Gendry had himself believing that she was just crazy, or mistaken, either way she had no idea what she was saying. Even as something stirred within him at the thought, he pushed it aside, not willing to believe in fairy tales. What did it matter anyway? With Arya gone, he did not care who he was.

Gendry found his way back towards the men, staying as far away from Lady Stark as possible, although he could not get away from her stare. For the rest of the night, her eyes were only on him. He dared not meet her stare, not yet anyway. Instead, he concentrated on his rage, on his revenge, and began plotting just where to begin. The first thing he knew was that he needed a weapon, something solid and strong, something that would bring fear into any man's heart as they looked upon it. No normal sword would do the job for what he had in mind. When they got back to the camp, he would go to work in the forge and create something for himself.

The next morning, the men arose with a new leader. Sometime, as Gendry was brooding in the forest, they had turned the Brotherhood over to Lady Stark, only she wasn't to be called Lady Stark anymore. She had mouthed to Harwin her new name...Lady Stoneheart. When Thoros refused to take command, followed by Harwin, Lady Stoneheart had stood up and accepted the responsibility. The men never argued, for who could argue with a walking dead woman. Especially one that looked as scary as Lady Stoneheart.

When the Brotherhood's camp came in to view, Gendry did not stop, until he was in the forge. He leaned on the anvil, cold from not being used, and took several deep breaths. He wasn't supposed to come back here without Arya. She was supposed to be here, standing beside him now, but instead, he left her charred body behind. The weight of her death crashed down on him as he was surrounded in the silence of the forge. He crumbled to the ground, holding the bracelet in his hands tightly. Someone moved behind him, but he had not the strength to turn and see who it was.

"Where is she," came Hot Pie's whisper.

Gendry could not answer him. When he opened his mouth, a small moan came out instead. "Gendry, where is Arya," Hot Pie said, his voice cracking.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK!" Gendry exploded. He jumped to his feet, whirling around on Hot Pie and grabbing the boy by the front of his shirt. "Where do you think!" he said through clenched teeth. "I left her in a field of death, Hot Pie. I left her body, so charred it was unrecognizable, behind me!"

Hot Pie's eyes grew wide. His lips began to tremble as the first signs of tears formed. "H—how do you know it was her?" he whispered.

Gendry closed his eyes, not believing he would ask such a question. "The bracelet, you fool," he said, letting go of the boy, and holding up the bracelet.

Hot Pie reached out to take it, but Gendry snatched it out of his way. He would never let it go. No one would ever take it from him. "Get out," he said miserably.

"Gendry...I'm so sorry," Hot Pie said, his voice shaking with the first signs of a sob.

"I don't need your apology. I need my vengeance."

"Gendry?" Hot Pie said, his voice sounding scared.

"I'm going to kill them all. I don't care how long it takes. I will cut them down where they stand. I will slaughter them where they sleep. In the end, their blood will be the ones spilled as the skies turn red," he whispered.

Some time went by as Gendry was lost in his planning. When he finally looked up, Hot Pie was gone. It was much better that the boy wasn't around. He stood, walking out into the late afternoon sun. The men were scattered about, making a fire for supper, or just standing around and discussing what had just happened. As Gendry came into view, they all stopped their whispering and talking to look upon him. No one spoke as he passed, heading towards the forest. He needed to walk, needed to clear his head for just a moment. As he passed the last group of men, he could not help to hear one of the men whisper.

"Could it possibly be true?"

Gendry never turned around, never acknowledged what the men were saying, nor did he want to. He passed into the forest, searching for the one thing that he knew would be somewhere close. He thought of calling her, but decided that if she wanted him to find her, she would make herself known. What he did not expect was to see Lady Stoneheart waiting for him deep in the forest. When he saw her, he stopped dead in his tracks. She stared at him, her eyes a blazed with the same fury he felt. Behind her, something moved into his vision. Nymeria came to stand beside her, watching him as well. For a moment, he even thought the direwolf held the fury each one of them felt. She growled low, though it was no at him.

She left Lady Stoneheart's side and walked towards him. When Nymeria reached him, she rubbed her head against his hand. He picked his palm up, lying it gently on top of her head. Gendry knelt down, coming face to face with the direwolf. "You knew, didn't you?" he whispered.

Nymeria whined, as if she could understand his question. He rubbed her head as she continued to whine softly. "Don't worry, Nymeria. They will pay," he said low and dangerous. The direwolf raised her eyes towards him, the whine being replaced with a low growl. Maybe it was possible that she could understand. As Gendry looked up, his face did a double take as Lady Stoneheart was standing right in front of him. He never heard her move, never saw her standing there. He slowly raised to his feet, staring into her dead eyes. She reached up to her neck, covering the hideous gash on her skin and opened her mouth to speak. This time, sound came from her lips, though Gendry had to strain to understand her.

"They will all pay," she said.

The fury in her eyes was almost enough to knock him off of his feet. His hands dug into Nymeria's fur as he felt the anger radiate off of the woman. "We will make them pay," she hissed out, almost inaudibly, yet Gendry heard her well enough.

As much as he tried to fight it, Lady Stoneheart ignited his fury, united them together in their common cause. He wanted as far away from the woman as possible, yet he wanted her as near to him as she could be. Nymeria began to growl louder, as if to agree. Gendry's head began to nod on its own, though a voice in his head screamed at him to run. It was if he had two personalities, one leading him towards his revenge, while the other was leading him to his sanity. If he went down this road, so many things could happen, but one thing was for sure, at the end of it all, he would be nothing more than what his fury would allow him to be. He would lose himself, but without Arya, he had nothing to lose to begin with. Ours is the fury, a voice whispered inside his head. He nodded towards Lady Stoneheart as he turned away. He had found what he was searching for and called Nymeria to come with him. The direwolf would not hide any longer. She would stand beside him, no matter the road he went down. Nymeria obeyed, walking into the camp while the startled gasps irrupted around them. Gendry and Nymeria ignored them, walking towards the forge step in step.

Gendry fired up the anvil. Night and day, the pounding could be heard from the forge. He seldom ate, seldom slept. Nymeria sat at his feet, growling when anyone would approach, which made them walk away without a word being spoken. He kept her close as to not be interrupted. The sweat ran from his naked chest. The fire burned around him, sending sparks and ashes flying. Still, his hands created a masterpiece of death, of destruction. He never looked up when Lady Stoneheart came in. Nymeria never growled, only whined, yet Gendry did not stop. She watched him for a moment, and then slipped out like a shadow.

Days into his creation, finally someone worked up the nerve to approach. Nymeria began growling low and deep, but the person swallowed their fear and continued moving. Only when the direwolf raised to it's massive height did the person freeze.

"Settle down, Nymeria. It's okay," Gendry said. The direwolf obeyed.

Hot Pie walked slowly around her, though she never took her eyes from the boy. He moved around, making a large berth between him and the direwolf. For a while, he did not speak, but only watched Gendry work. Gendry never stopped, never looked up at Hot Pie.

"Why are you doing this, Gendry? Why are you making that?" Hot Pie asked, low.

Without stopping his quick movements, he looked up at the boy for a moment. "You know why. Don't waste my time with questions you already know the answer to. As for what I'm making, it just feels right," he answered.

"And then what? You're just going to go out with your direwolf and that freak of a woman and kill everyone who gets in your path? That's not you, Gendry."

"Nymeria isn't mine, she's Arya's. As for that freak of a woman, that's Arya's mother, so watch your fucking mouth," Gendry spat.

"She would never have wanted this for you, Gendry. You know this. Arya would have never wanted you to go down this path," Hot Pie whispered.

Gendry didn't answer at first. He hit the anvil hard, his creation almost complete. "But she's dead, isn't she, Hot Pie? It doesn't matter what she would have wanted, because dead people have no cause to want!"

"And you're still alive, Gendry!" Hot Pie yelled.

Nymeria jumped to her feet, lowering her head and growling. Hot Pie ignored the direwolf, keeping his eyes on Gendry. Finally, Gendry looked up at him, lowering his hammer. "Remember what it felt like to lose Weasel? Times that by infinity, Hot Pie, and you will know how very much dead I am. "Tell me, what is it that I have if not my vengeance…my rage?"

The moment he spoke the words that filled his mind, Arya's face floated in his thoughts. She had spoken those same words, and he had screamed at her that she had him. There was no one here to scream at him this time. Hot Pie had no words of comeback, and the boy looked away from Gendry's heated stare.

"Go back to your orphanage, Hot Pie. Go back to your easy life while I burn this land in my wake. When my vengeance is satisfied then I might listen to what you have to say, but you are wasting your breath on me at the moment."

Hot Pie had no response, but did as Gendry told him. He turned slowly towards the door, stopping just before leaving. "You aren't the only one who lost her, Gendry. I lost her too."

Gendry raised his hammer, sending it towards the anvil. He barely heard what Hot Pie had said, but hear he did. Still, it never quenched the pain, never stopped the fury from growing. Nymeria laid back down at his feet, listening to the anvil sing as Gendry pounded it.

It took a week to finish his masterpiece, but finish it he did. He walked through the night, looking for Lady Stoneheart. She had waited patiently for him to finish, never interrupting him when she came by to check on his progress. Beside him, Nymeria trotted. The direwolf never left him alone for a second, and Gendry would have had it no other way.

He found Lady Stoneheart standing amongst Harwin and some of the men. They were in deep discussion as she listened intently to what they were saying, but when she spotted Gendry heading towards her, her attention went straight towards him. She watched his face for a moment, but her eyes lowered to what he carried in his hand. He watched the smile begin to grow on her disfigured face, watched her eyes come alight with excitement. The men turned their attention on him as well, their eyes falling to his hands as well. They stood back, giving Gendry and Nymeria room to reach Lady Stoneheart.

Gendry fell to one knee, bowing his head before the woman. "I swore my allegiance to Dodarrion and these men, but now I swear my allegiance to you. With my weapon, I will have my vengeance, and yours as well."

Her hand came up to cover the gash at her throat as she spoke, "You are your father's son."

Laying at her feet was Gendry's masterpiece. Laying at her feet was the Warhammer Gendry had made to bring about his fiery vengeance.

Chapter 23: Like Father Like Son

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Gendry slowly looked up at Lady Stoneheart. Her words ringing in his ear like loud church bells. Her dead eyes met his, a small smile playing on her lips. She looked as if she knew something he did not, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to know. Still, he knew he had to ask the question.

"My father's son?"

It came out as a soft whisper, yet she heard him loud and clear. Nymeria softly whined beside him, but he dared not take his eyes away from Lady Stoneheart. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, he breaths barely falling from his mouth. She slowly reached down, taking his arm gently and making him rise to his feet. Turning, she escorted him away from the men. No one spoke, only watched them as they walked away.

Lady Stoneheart did not stop them until they came to the river. Still, she did not speak for several moments. Nymeria laid down at Gendry's feet, his Warhammer in hand. They both looked out at the rushing water as it passed them by. Lady Stoneheart's arm was intertwined in Gendry's, and she squeezed it softly. With her other hand, she raised it to cover the gash in her neck.

"The moment I saw you, I knew you were from House Baratheon. You look just like him, just like what I remember when we were young." She stopped, taking a deep breath. Gendry got the impression that it took a lot of strength for her to even say a few words. He would be patient, waiting for what he wanted to hear. "You favor Renley, but the fire I see in your eyes is your father's."

"Who...who is he?" Gendry whispered.

Lady Stoneheart turned to him, reaching up to bring his eyes towards hers. "You are the bastard son of King Robert Baratheon."

The world around him ceased to exist. All that existed in his mind was a reel of images. Jon Arryn's face floated to his vision. The questions about his mother pierced his ears. Ned Stark's face replaced Arryn's. His questions had been the same as the first man. Both were now dead because of it. The road with Yoren, the Gold Cloaks looking for him on the Queen's orders. Yoren's knowing looks, telling him and Arya to run no matter what. Gendry broke away from Lady Stoneheart's hold, staggering towards the river. His eyes were wide, yet unseeing. When he stopped, he bent over, his mind exploding with thoughts and feelings he already knew to be true. Possibly, he had always known who he was. The men that would come into the forge in King's Landing, the way they would stare at him a little too long. The way his master would watch him, hover over him. The way he just sent him off with no explanation right after King Robert died.

"Oh gods," Gendry choked out.

"When Beric Dondarrion brought me back, and I saw you, I thought I was looking at the ghost of your father," Lady Stoneheart said in a rattled breath. "It is why I attacked you. I have blamed Robert for taking my husband away."

Nymeria was looking up at Gendry, her head leaning to one side, as if trying to figure out if he were hurt or not. Gendry slammed his eyes closed, the man who was his father filling his vision. His mother's words floated to his ears. It was the last thing he remembered her saying to him, "You have so much of your father in you".

"The Warhammer..." he whispered. "Was your father's weapon," Lady Stoneheart finished.

He dug his fingers into the weapon in his hands, opening his eyes to look down at it. It just feels right, he remembered saying to Hot Pie. It dropped from his hands as he fell to his knees. Gendry knew what she was saying was truth. He felt it with every part of his being. He was the son of the King.

Gendry reached up, grabbing the hair on his head, the same hair given to him by his father, and he began to pull. His lips curved back into a snarl, his teeth bared. Suddenly, he raised his face to the sky and screamed his fury and his pain. He cursed the gods, both old and new. Words of venom and loathing poured out of his mouth as his eyes stared into the red streak in the sky. Hatred poured out of him to every god he could remember. And in that moment, Arya's face was the only thing he could see.

"I CURSE YOU ALL!" he screamed to the top of his lungs, for he had realized something that drove cold nails into his heart. He realized something that crushed the very soul within his body. He was the son of the King, nobility running through his veins, and the whole time he thought he was not good enough for Arya. He thought he had to prove himself first. The whole time he thought he could not face her king brother, but little had he known that he had every right to stand in front of King Robb. Little had he known that he had every right to take Arya for himself. King Robb could have legitimized him.

Gendry was on his feet before his mind could catch up. He walked towards the woods, raising the Warhammer above his head and crashing it in to the nearest tree. The tree shook with the force of the blow, but Gendry wasn't done. He sent it forward again, crashing it into the tree as the bark went flying around him. His mouth opened again, a hellish scream falling from his lips. It was as if he had lost Arya all over again.

The men came rushing forward, grabbing Gendry by the arms to stop him. He screamed and cursed at them to let him go, but they ignored him. He was lost in his grief, in his torment. They grabbed the Warhammer from his hands, pushing him down to the ground and holding him still.

"Calm down, boy!" Harwin yelled at him.

"LET HIM GO!" Lady Stoneheart bellowed.

Everyone froze, including Gendry. Nymeria was standing beside Lady Stoneheart. She had risen to full height, her head bowed low, teeth bared, as she growled low and dangerous. The men stared at them with wide eyes. "Let. Him. Go," she said again.

One by one, the men let Gendry go, until he was free to stand. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, his tears blinding his vision. He walked towards Lady Stoneheart and Nymeria. "You are filled with fury, good! You are ready to do what must be done! Let our vengeance begin," she wheezed. She turned to the men, becoming the leader of the Brotherhood without Banners. "Tonight we march towards the Twins. There, we will kill all in our path. Anyone with Frey, Bolton and Lannister blood flowing through them will meet an end so vile they will be begging for death before it is over with!"

Gendry bent down, picking up the Warhammer. He wiped the tears away with the back of his free hand. Reaching down, he touched Nymeria lightly on the head, drawing strength from the direwolf at his side.

"That is not what we are about, Lady Stoneheart. With all due respect, we protect the people of the Riverlands," Thoros said quietly.

"And the day my people were slaughtered, were we not of the Riverlands?" she asked. "Where was your protection then Thoros of Myr?"

The man looked away, his face burning with shame. Lady Stoneheart turned her attention towards Gendry. "Behold, the son of King Robert Baratheon, the man whose name you all fight for!"

Every pair of eyes turned to Gendry, some opened so wide it was comical. There was no noise, no sound, as the men of the Brotherhood continued to stare at Gendry. Even Thoros was staring with wide-eyes. But it was Harwin that made the first move. He walked from the group of men, right up to stand before Gendry. He watched the man warily, wondering what he was about to do. What he didn't expect was exactly what happened.

Harwin went to one knee in front of Gendry, bowing his head low. He unsheathed his sword, laying it at Gendry's feet. "With my sword, I will protect you, your grace!" Harwin said loudly.

Gendry took a step away from the man. He didn't want this, didn't want them to look upon him as anything other than Gendry. No, he was not a lord, or a prince. He was Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill. Suddenly, each man fell to their knee as Harwin had done. Each one unsheathed their sword. They repeated the words Harwin had just said, giving Gendry their allegiance.

He felt a hand lightly touch his arm, and he looked over to see Lady Stoneheart watching him. "Take their allegiance, Gendry, for these men do not give it out without thought. You need an army to spread our vengeance, and so I have given you one!" she croaked.

Gendry turned, walking away from her and the men. He needed to think, needed to clear his head, and he could not do it there. Nymeria followed closely beside him, as she always did. There was only one place he knew to go. He headed towards the forge. As soon as he entered, he began to pace. Nymeria settled down to watch him, her head moving back and forth as he moved. He was King Robert's son. Somehow, he couldn't quite wrap his brain around it, though he knew it to be as true as his love burned for Arya. On top of that, the Brotherhood gave him their allegiance, something he had not asked for. He could take a small army into war against all that had had a hand in taking Arya away from him. The words that Thoros had spoken about the wildfire burning the land played in his mind, and all he could think of was the feel of Arya's charred body in his arms.

Lady Stoneheart entered quietly, watching him pace. She did not speak to him, but allowed him to continue brooding. He stopped his pacing, leaning on the anvil and staring at nothing. "I remember the first time I met her," he whispered. "Two kids were picking on her, yet she held her own." Gendry laughed at the memory.

He looked up at Lady Stoneheart, his eyes bleeding with his pain. "I'd never known anyone like her. I'd never had that much faith put upon me before," he whispered. "Did...d—did she suffer?"

Lady Stoneheart walked towards him slowly. Her dead eyes held her saddness. Her hand reached up, covering her neck as her other hand touched his lightly. "I do not know," she said, barely audible. "I died with her precious face in my vision. When I died, she was still alive, but she was in the middle of the slaughter. I assume she followed her brother and myself shortly after."

Gendry closed his eyes, horrible images of how she died filling his mind. Was she alive when they burned her? Did they rape her before they murdered her? Did she scream his name, wondering why he hadn't come and saved her?

"She loved you, Gendry," Lady Stoneheart whispered.

He squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to hear those words. He had no right to her love. He had not right to hold her precious heart in his hands when he had let her down as he did. Arya had suffered, he knew it deep within his heart. And he had stayed behind and allowed it to happen. But now, he had a chance to make it right. Now, he had a chance to bring justice down upon all who took her away from him. All he had to do was to accept what Lady Stoneheart was giving him. All he had to do was to accept who he was. The men of the Brotherhood would follow him. Perhaps, not all would, but enough would stand behind him as he tore the lands apart in his vengeance.

"This is your destiny," Lady Stoneheart said.

"No. My destiny was here," Gendry said, touching the anvil. "My destiny was to be surrounded by this place with Arya by my side, but I screwed that up, did I not? I have no destiny anymore, only death awaiting me."

"Then meet death with blood on your Warhammer!"

Every man needs a purpose, Dondarrion's whispered voice rung in his ears. What's your purpose, Gendry?

He stared at Lady Stoneheart for a moment, before turning his eyes towards Nymeria. She was standing, her eyes boring in to his, as if to communicate her allegiance. This was not him, not the person he should be, but that person died the day he held Arya's charred body in his arms. Gendry had stayed in that cursed land, and what came forth was someone totally different. What had walked away from Frey land was someone who would not stop until all of the land knew what pain was. He would burn all of Westeros if he had to. Either he would have his vengeance, or he would have his death. Either way, he was no longer Gendry.

Taking a hold of his Warhammer, he walked past Lady Stoneheart and Nymeria, heading out of the forge. When he walked into the sunlight, the men were waiting...his men. There were no more than twenty men, but Gendry did not worry about that. As his wildfire grew, he would pick up more men along the way. They were expecting him, and as soon as he came into their vision, the men fell to one knee. This time, Gendry did not turn away. Lady Stoneheart stood on one side of him, as Nymeria came to the other side. He searched every man's face before speaking. They watched him, waiting.

"In the name of the late King Robert Baratheon, and the Hand of the King Ned Stark, I ask you men to follow me and Lady Stoneheart into battle against the people that have murdered our blood! Stand with us! Fight with us as we tear this land a part in our vengeance and justice!" he screamed.

The men raised their swords, screaming their acceptance. They began to chant Lady Stoneheart's name, but soon, Gendry's name was falling from their lips. Gendry stood and listened to them scream, letting the sound fill his body and give him strength for the road he chose for himself. It burned inside him, igniting a part of him he did not know existed. The part of him that was his father. He would start a war in the name of the woman he loved, in the name of Arya Stark, and blood would be shed on her behalf.

"Stand with me men! Arise to your feet and stand with me as brothers! I will burn these lands to the ground in my wake and Westeros will see something they have not seen since my father's days! Stand with me, brothers, and let us bring the Frey's, Boltons and Lannisters TO THEIR KNEES!" he shouted.

The men stood to the feet, their swords above their heads as they shouted. Gendry walked ahead, Nymeria beside him, and joined his men. They gathered around him, some dancing, others still shouting. He walked passed them, to the path leading towards the Twins. They followed, stepping in behind him and the direwolf. "Bring me their heads!" Lady Stoneheart shouted, adding to the men's excitement. Gendry stopped, turning to look upon her. They stared at one another for a moment, both feeling the hatred surge within them. With one nod of his head, Gendry turned back around and continued his march with the direwolf at his side, and the Warhammer in his hand.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She was walking beside him. The men walking behind them were wary of her, and she was glad of it. They needed to be wary. She had not left his side for a moment, nor would she. Her master thought enough of him to mark him with her scent, which meant that he was something special. Now, he was all that she had. The pack was destroyed, but he would lead them back together again...his pain and vengeance. The woman was different, not like she remembered. Something had changed within her, and she felt wary of her, though she still felt a familiar ache that was associated with the Starks. Yes, the woman was a Stark, just different somehow.

As the boy slowed, she too slowed, until they came to a complete stop. The men were bringing something towards them, something that resembled a human. He was a hideous thing to behold, even for a direwolf's eyes. He was crying, snot and tears running from his eyes and nose. His eyes looked upon her, fear falling from them. "Please...no! Let me go, let me go!" he was screaming. She stood to full height, her teeth bared as he came closer.

"Easy, Nymeria," Gendry called to her.

She did as she was told, lowering herself, yet not lowering her lips. She wanted the hideous creature to look upon the thing that would take his throat apart. He continued to fight against the hands holding him, but there were too many, and he was too weak. His legs kicked, his head whipped from side to side to get free.

"Your name?" Gendry asked.

The hideous man did not answer, but pissed his pants. His eyes looked from Gendry to her, back and forth they darted.

"I said, your name!" Gendry said louder.

"P—P—Petyr," he stuttered.

Gendry stepped closer to the man. She followed him without thought. Where Gendry went, she went. "Petyr...what?" Gendry whispered.

The man's eyes went wide, tears streaming down his dirty face. "Please," he pleaded. "Please, please...please."

"Petyr what!" Gendry screamed in his face, unmoved by his tears.

"F—Frey," he answered, his eyes moving towards her. He was frightened of her...good, she thought.

"Frey," Gendry repeated. It slipped from his lips like soured milk.

She watched him turn his back on the man, looking at each of his men that stood with him. His eyes were two pools of fire, his lips snarling. "And what do we do to Freys?" he asked.

"Kill...kill...kill," the men began to chant.

She raised her head towards the heavens and howled her answer. She would kill as well. Every last one of them that took her pack away, she would kill them. Lowering her head, she began to growl. It started low and deep within her, but grew into an earsplitting sound. The man turned to her again, trying to get away from her advancements. She felt Gendry's hand come down upon her head, the only thing stopping her from destroying.

"Tell me something, were you the one that killed her?" Gendry whispered. "Did you watch them torture her? Did you help them?"

"I beg you! Please, I did nothing wrong," the man screamed.

She watched Gendry look to the men holding him, nodding his head. The forced the man to his knees as he cried louder. He walked the rest of the way towards the man, and she knew that she would not get the kill today. Though it did not settle well with her, she would allow him his first kill. Gendry deserved it above any other. The next kill would be hers.

She watched Gendry raise his Warhammer to his eyes, the bracelet dangling from the hilt. He looked at it a moment, saddness crossing his features, before it gave way to his hatred. His eye darted over to the man on his knees. "Know this much, you will not sit long in the Seven Hells by yourself. Others will be joining you very soon," Gendry said, raising the Warhammer above his head.

The sound of the weapon making impact with the man's face cut through the silence of the afternoon like thunder. She watched what was left of the man's face hang to one side, his blood splatter out on those closest to him. Gendry was becoming soaked in it, yet he did not move away. She raised her head again, howling in their victory of one Frey down. There would be others, but for a moment, she would relish in the notion that their vengeance had begun.

Arya shot up, her mouth coming open in loud gasps. Her wide-eyes shot around, looking at the space around her. "Nymeria," she breathed, as she realized she had had another dream of the direwolf.

Chapter 24: Bonding or Deception

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go."

"No!"

"Let...me go."

"...No!" The Hound said, finally growling.

Arya had been at it for over an hour, saying the same thing over and over. To her surprise, The Hound had not lost his temper...until now. He was staring daggers at Arya, his nostrils flaring up with his anger. She just stared at him, her face looking smug.

"Eat!" he said, throwing a piece of squirrel towards her.

Arya looked down at it a moment, and back up at him. With a smile, which came across more like a snarl, she said, "No!"

The Hound shook his head, cussing under his breath. His face was so red it was turning a purplish color. Arya knew she was pushing her luck again, but she found she could not stop. She rather enjoyed making him angry.

"You know, I rather liked you in your catatonic state," he said.

"Well, you know, I rather like dogs that are dead," she shot back.

After the river incident, Arya had fallen into a depression. She would not eat. She would not drink. If The Hound would have let her, she would have slept day and night, but he refused her even that bliss. Instead, he had forced her to keep moving. Sometimes, he even forced food and drink down her throat. According to him, it had taken a week to get her out of it. When she finally did emerge, the bantering between them continued. Though she would never admit it to him, she found she rather liked making him edgy. It kept her mind off of other things, for instance the death of Robb and her mother. It kept her mind off of feeling as if Gendry had abandoned her again. Though she did not know why, she had expected him to come looking for her, but there had not been any sign of him. It was as if he had vanished into smoke.

"Eat or don't eat, I don't care. Die or don't die, I don't care," The Hound said, breaking into her thoughts.

"Oh I don't believe that," Arya said. "I think you'd rather miss me if I died."

The Hound stared at her, one eyebrow raised. "You think that? You're like a thorn in my ass that I can't reach."

"Then why didn't you let me drown? Hmm? You could have found someone else to ransom, some other way to make your money back, but no, you had to go and play the hero!"

The Hound took a bite of squirrel that Arya had turned down. Her stomach growled in protest, watching him chew the meat. She had to admit, she was famished. Still, her pride would not allow her to reach out and take anything from the man.

"Because you were choosing the craven's way out," he answered, not looking at her.

"The..." she stopped, sitting up from where she was leaning against a tree, "I am no craven," she ground out.

"Yes you are," he said, matter-of-factly.

Arya felt the anger surge within her, climbing towards her face, until it burned as red as The Hounds. The audacity of that man to call her a craven. "That's rich coming from a man who ran from a battle!" The Hound's head shot towards her, his eyes showing his surprise. "I might have been in a catatonic state, ass whole, but I heard every word you spoke to me...every story you told me to keep me from falling deeper into my depression."

"That was different," The Hound whispered.

"Why? Because you wanted to save your own ass? That's pretty craven if you ask me!" Arya spat.

"No one's asking you!" he yelled.

Arya let a few moments of silence go by, just to calm him. She liked to allow him to grow calm before ramming in to him again. And she knew just what ammunition to use on him. She knew just what to say for him to explode. It had worked every time, and every time she had come that much closer to his sword being in her skull. Perhaps soon, he would hit his mark.

"How do you think my sister's holding up? Do you think she survived without her dog in shining armor there to protect her from the battle, or do you think she's been slaughtered already?" Arya whispered.

The Hound's head rose slowly towards her. The anger in his eyes actually scared her this time. She could not stop from flinching as he rose to his feet and was before her before she could blink. His face was inches from her own, his hand coming up and grabbing her throat. He applied pressure, cutting off her airway just enough to cause her to struggle.

"Do...not...talk...about...her," he said, low and dangerous. His voice had the hairs of Arya's arms standing on end, yet she forced the smile to her face, which was slowly turning purple with the effort to breathe. "I would mourn her death for the rest of my days, but you...no one would mourn you! That stupid, bastard boy doesn't even care if you lived or died. Your body could be floating in the river by now, and it would mean nothing to him!" he seethed.

Slowly, he released her throat, leaning back to look at her fully. "You want to know why you're a craven?" he asked her. She nodded her head, not able to speak her words from where he had squeezed her throat. "Because, instead of facing what has happened to you, you would rather take the easy way out. Oh poor little noble girl lost her family. Girl, there are people who wake up everyday knowing they will lose someone they love, yet they have the courage to go on living! You're a craven, because you would allow the people that took everything from you to win! You would allow them exactly what they want...you dead!"

The Hound stood to his feet, turning his back on her and walking away. His body was as tense as she had ever seen, and his words stung, yet she found she hung to every word that dropped from his mouth.

"You are a craven, because you do not fight! You do not fight against the darkness overtaking you, but just allow it to pull you under. You think this life is supposed to be easy? Huh?" He turned towards her, as if he expected her to answer. "Do you?" he said louder.

"No," she whispered.

"Wait till the day you see one man fall after the next, then maybe you can have something to cry about. Have you lost people that were important to you, that you loved, sure, but who hasn't? Wait till that is your whole life before you take the craven's way out!"

"Isn't that my life? I've seen hundreds of men lose their lives, innocent people who didn't deserve to die!" Arya said, heatedly.

"You aren't listening," he said, coming back towards her and bending down to make eye contact with her. "No one person deserves to live more than the other. We all deserve death, stupid girl. Your parent's death does not define you! Your brother's death does not define you, yet you allow it to consume you in despair. You are a craven, because you lack the strength to fight it! You are a craven, because you allow the rejection of that stupid, bastard boy to control you! He didn't want you around. So you think it is the end of the world, throw yourself into the river! You getting my point, girl?"

The silence consumed them as his words sunk in. Arya felt the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, for she felt his words to be the truth of the matter. Where was the strong-willed girl she was? Where was the girl that would fight her way out of the most horrible of situations? Arya Stark might have been dead in the bottom of the river, but that didn't mean she couldn't have her strength. It didn't mean that she had to be a craven.

"So how do I not be a craven?" she asked in a voice so soft she wasn't sure The Hound heard her. For the briefest of moments, in the darkness surrounding them, she saw his anger fade. She saw his face grow calm and a little sad.

"You do what comes naturally, girl," he whispered. "You turn your back on everything that means to hurt you. You grow cold inside, not allowing room to be let down. You look upon your hurt and pain as nothing more than dirt underneath your shoes, and then you kick it as far away from you as possible. Forget all that you love, all that you hold dear, because in the end that too shall fade. In the end, you learn that it is about you...and only you. You hold on to your anger and you let it ignite within you, until you are covered in its flames, because anger is the only emotion worth fighting for."

He stood back up and walked back to the fire. Arya watched him, his words running through her mind at break-neck speed. Anger, she thought. I have a lot of that.

"Deep thoughts by the dog," Arya said low.

The Hound heard her, chuckling despite himself. "I've had plenty of experience in what I'm saying. It's never steered me wrong yet."

"I am no craven," Arya said again.

The Hound looked at her, really looked at her, before he spoke. "Then prove it."

Arya looked down at The Hound's hand as he reached it out towards her. There, sitting in his palm, was the squirrel meat he had offered her earlier. She swallowed hard, the voices in her head hissing at the thought of taking the meat, but she reached her head down and took the meat into her mouth. In that moment , she began to devour it, savoring its juices. It was the first time she had made a choice to eat since The Hound had taken her. She was not being forced to eat, but chose on her own. She chose to live.

After she had swallowed every bite of meat, The Hound passed her a cup of water, which she gulped down in two big gulps. After she was finished, she felt full, alive. Something she had not felt in a long time.

"See, it doesn't kill you to go on, Arya," The Hound said low.

She looked at him, staring at his scars and before she could stop it, her question just slipped out. "How did you get that scar?"

She saw the flinch run down his body, though he tried to hide it. Arya wasn't sure if he would answer her, and as she opened her mouth to tell him to forget about it, he spoke. "There is a reason I want to be the one to kill my brother." Arya had to strain to hear his response, but when it settled in her mind, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach.

"He did that to you?"

"We don't all have wonderful upbringings like you, girl," The Hound answered darkly.

Arya looked away from him, ashamed. She could not have imagined one of her brothers ever harming her in that way. There was Sansa, but then not even she could do something so vile.

"Feeling sorry for me, are we? Don't! I don't need your pity! I need my revenge."

"I hope you get it," Arya whispered, meaning every word.

The Hound chuckled, nodding his head. "So do I."

There were other questions Arya wanted to ask, other things running around in her head, but she didn't know if The Hound would take kindly to her prying in his business. Arya snorted out loud at what she had just thought. Did she really care if he took kindly to her questions? She never had before.

"You protected her, didn't you? My sister? That's why you get so mad when I mention her, because you don't know what's happening to her. It's the anger thing you talked of earlier."

Several seconds went by before there was a response. "I did what I could," said The Hound softly.

"Thank you."

The Hound looked at Arya, surprise showing again. Suddenly, she jumped as a loud, booming laugh left his mouth. She got the impression that he wasn't making fun of her, but that he was genuinely amused. "This is too much," he said through his laughter.

Arya lowered her head, a small smile beginning to grow on her face. She realized what was so funny, and couldn't help but to let a small giggle passed her closed lips. "Are we having a moment, dog?" she asked.

"I think we are, oh gods help us," he said, his laughter continuing. "So, does this mean we have to like each other?"

"Oh definitely not," Arya said, smiling. "Besides, I'm still going to kill you."

"And I just might let you," he said, calming. "Go to sleep, girl, before this gets any more amusing."

Arya rolled to her side, her smile still plastered to her face, because she knew she had The Hound right where she wanted him. She wasn't a craven, but she was getting good at deception.

The next morning, her plan had worked to perfection. Though The Hound was still his brooding self, he seemed more relaxed around her. He untied her bound feet when she had asked politely. Though it took some coaxing, in the end he had agreed. She was also able to talk him in to tying her hands around the front, instead of behind her back. With soft words of how much pain she was in, he had obliged her easily. Now, she would make her move.

"I need to pee," she said.

The Hound was putting out the remaining fire and stopped to look up at her. "What are you waiting for?" he asked, as if she would do it in front of him.

She forced herself to laugh, as if he had made a joke. "I'm not going to pull my pants down in front of you! You're a boy!"

He stood to full height, huffing his annoyance. "Up," he commanded. Arya did as she was told, like a good girl would do. He marched her deep into the forest and told her he would be back in three minutes whether she was done or not. Again, she smiled up at him, "It won't take that long."

Arya had already spotted what she needed, and as he turned his back, she reached for it. As quick as the cats in the alleyways of King's Landing, Arya grabbed a large, sturdy branch. It was almost too big for her to raise, but raise it she did. She slithered towards him, not a sound was made, and raised the large branch above her head. The sound of it making contact with the back of his skull was shattering. The Hound went down instantly, falling into the mud face-first. He did not move, and Arya was sure she had killed him. But upon closer look, she could see his pulse pounding in his neck.

She bent down on her knees, getting as close to his ear as she could and whispered, "A craven I'm not, but a fool you are!" She got back to her feet, and just for good measure, she raised the branch again and slammed it back down upon his head. This time, it broke in two.

Arya did not hesitate, but shot off like a cannon. As she ran, she worked her hands free of the binds and threw them to the ground. Their horses were dead ahead of her, and Arya sprinted towards them. In quick motions, she grabbed the reigns of her horse Craven, who she had named after The Hound. How ironic, she thought, as she swung the horse around and charged forward. Where she would go, she had no idea, but where ever it was, The Hound would be far behind her. She had played her part so well, so much so, that she had almost convinced herself. Though his words had hit home, what he didn't realize was that she already felt everything he told her to feel. Her anger was alight inside her, the only thing that mattered. He thought her a weakling, but she was growing stronger by the day.

So deep in her thoughts she was, that she did not see the danger before her. She had reached the path, choosing to go the opposite way of the Brotherhood without Banners, the opposite way from Gendry, because one thing The Hound said was true. She would turn her back on everything and everyone she knew. They can all rot, she thought.

Suddenly, something swung forward, knocking her dead in the chest and sending her flying from the horse. When she made impact, which luckily for her was soft grass, she felt her whole body jarred by the hit. Her vision went blurry as her chest screamed in agonizing pain. For a few moments, all she could do was whither in pain.

"We got us a live one boys!" Someone said above her. Their laughter sounded like fingernails scratching on glass.

Arya was jerked upward, and she cried out in pain as she was thrown over someone's shoulder. They walked her a little ways ahead and then threw her back to the ground. She raised her head, trying to shake the fuzziness away. Something came down on her back, sending her face back into the dirt. She realized it was a foot.

"What's a small thing like you doing riding around out here alone?"

Arya looked up, seeing that she was surrounded by three men. In their hands, each carried a blade. They were looking at her as if she were a treasure they had just found, and then she realized that her hair had grown long again. It was passed her shoulders by this point, and there was no way of hiding the fact that she was a girl.

"Sightseeing," she responded with a cough.

"We'll give you some sightseeing," one of the men said, as the other two laughed.

They twisted her around to where she was lying on her back. One of the men grabbed her feet, while the other grabbed her hands. She began fighting them at once. The third man climbed on top of her, putting his full weight on top of her. Arya tried to buck him, but he was too strong.

Is this my punishment, she thought.

He began to unzip his pants, and pull hers down at the same time, but the man holding Arya's legs suddenly let go. The man on top of her felt the shift and looked up just in time to see a fist fly in his face. He went flying off her, leaving just the man that held her arms. He was the smart one, as he let Arya go and tried to make a run for it. The Hound pulled out his dagger and sent it flying towards the man. The blade hit its mark in the back of his neck, sending him flying forward, dead. The other two men followed him not long after.

Arya laid completely still, waiting for what was to come. She did not have to wait long as The Hound jerked her up by the front of her shirt. He dragged her, ignoring her shouts of pain. She beat his arms and chest with her fists, but it did nothing to stop him. She looked up at his face, seeing the blood running down the back of his neck. Maybe now he would kill her. As The Hound passed Arya's horse, he grabbed the reigns and guided the horse from the road.

She was slammed to a tree, the breath being knocked out of her for the second time in as many minutes. She stared into The Hound's face, his rage massive. He brought some rope out of the back of his pocket and began tying her to the tree. She snarled at him, but he paid her no attention as he worked. When he was finished, he began to pace in front of her. She could hear him taking long, deep breaths to calm himself, but as the minutes rolled by, he was still as furious as when he had found her.

"I should have let them rape you first," he snarled.

"fuck you, let me go!" Arya responded.

"No!" was his answer...always his answer.

"I'm really going to enjoy killing you," Arya seethed.

The Hound stopped pacing, turning his fury towards her. She watched him reach inside his back pocket again, just knowing he was pulling out another blade to slit her throat, but it wasn't.

He stormed towards her, stuffing a piece of rope into her mouth as far down as he could manage it, which had her gagging instantly. He wound it around the tree, forcing her head back and trapped to the tree.

"NOT IF I KILL YOU FIRST!" he screamed in her face.

Chapter 25: His Name Becomes A Whisper On Men's Lips

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself

Gendry sat on a make-shift chair the men had built for him. At first, he felt stupid, but they had insisted. They had told him that he was to stand out when men came to call, and call they did. As news of what he was doing spread throughout the Riverlands, the men came. Some were old and wary, but some were young and angry. He accepted all that wanted to join, for each man had vengeance of their own, whether they be young or old. His little band of fifteen had soon grown to fifty. Each one of them looked to him for guidance, but he always acknowledged Lady Stoneheart, for she was his leader. She stayed out of his way where the men were concerned, allowing him to take control. All that she asked was to be able to kill as well as the men, and he gave her just that. She was unmerciful in her slaughter of the Freys, Boltons and Lannisters. No matter if they had anything to do with the Red Wedding, she called for their blood. Gendry gave it to her willingly.

Above his head, rocking slowly back and forth, was the body of Petyr Frey. The man's mangled face hung unnaturally to one side, already crows food. He was Gendry's trophy. A sign of his furious strength. His men gathered around him as Nymeria sat by his side. His hand was lightly petting her fur, as it did so very often without him thinking about it. He kept a constant connection with the direwolf, as if that connection kept him close to Arya.

A man was entering the Brotherhood's camp. His hands were raised above his head, his eyes looking warily around him. Gendry dug his finger's into Nymeria's fur, making the direwolf growl. He eased up, yet his anger did not fade. This was not a man from the Riverlands coming to join them. This was a vile being from that vile House that had become like a curse to his lips.

The man eyed Gendry, then turned to Nymeria. He staggered a bit, but continued his walk. It wasn't until his eyes turned upwards that he finally froze. In his hands, he carried a bag. Gendry knew at once that the man had come to ransom for the life of Petyr Frey. He began to smile at the man, who only had eyes for the dead hanging above his head.

Gendry turned to the men standing behind him and nodded. The ceased the man at once, pulling him forward, and made him kneel before Gendry's make-shift throne. "Your name," he commanded.

The man swallowed, his eyes darting from Gendry to the body hanging above his head. "Y—y-you killed him," the man whispered.

Gendry smiled, "He was the first, but not the last."

At that moment, Gendry's men moved to the side, allowing the man to look past them at the rows of dead bodies behind them, all of whom were Freys. The man began to shake. Tears flooded his eyes as he shook his head furiously.

"I did nothing wrong! I swear it, my lord!" the man cried.

Gendry's smile turned into a snarl. He rose from his chair, walking slowly towards the man. "Every one of you say the same thing. 'I did nothing wrong. I swear, I did nothing wrong'. The fact that you kneel before me now shows that you did everything wrong, you fool!"

"Please," the man cried, tears pouring from his eyes.

"Your name?" Gendry whispered.

"Merrett,"

Gendry knelt down to the man's level, cocking his head to one side as he watched him for a moment. "Does your family forget their last name when asked, or is it that you are too scared to give it to me?" he asked.

"My name is Merrett Frey, and I have come to ransom for the life of Petyr Frey!" the man squealed.

Gendry tsked, shaking his head. "Seems your a bit late for that."

He stood back to his feet, turning towards the direwolf. He knew she was itching for blood to ooze down her throat, and on her fur.

"I demand a trial!" the man screamed. "I demand to prove my innocence."

"And a trial you shall have, sir," Gendry responded. "You will be held accountable for you actions during the day the King of the North and his people were slaughtered."

"I—I—I had nothing to do with that horrible day! I was passed out from wine." Merett crawled towards Gendry, grabbing the end of his shirt, begging him to spare his life. Gendry kicked him, causing the man to cry out in pain.

"Do we have a witness to this man's crimes?" Gendry called out.

No one answered at first, and the man looked relieved. "You see! There is no one here to speak against me, because I am innocent!"

"I will speak against him," said the croaking voice of Lady Stoneheart.

Everyone turned their eyes to look upon the undead woman walking towards them. She was staring at the man, who began to scream when he saw her. Gendry knelt in front of him, watching as the fear grew within him. He recognized Lady Stoneheart.

"Is that recognition in your eyes that I see?" Gendry whispered.

"S—She's dead!" the man screamed.

"Oh she's very much alive." Gendry began to laugh, turning to look upon Lady Stoneheart. A smile had begun to grow on her face as well. "Very much alive."

Swiftly, he reached out, grabbing the man by his hair and wrenching his head back. Gendry's face grew dark, the smile falling immediately. "Were you the one that killed Arya? Did you watch them kill her?" he asked...he always asked before killing them.

"I didn't kill anyone. Please, just let me go! I will leave this place and never return!"

Gendry nodded his head thoughtfully, "Yes, you will leave this place and never return. You will be in the seven hells along with every other person in your House."

"He was there, Gendry. I remember seeing him at the wedding," Lady Stoneheart whispered.

Gendry's hold on the man tightened, his fury growing. For a moment, he closed his eyes trying to calm the rage within, but there was never a moment of calm, of peace.

"Guilty," he said low.

"No! No, please! Please!" the man begged.

Gendry stood to his feet, turning towards Nymeria. Their eyes met, staring at one another for a few moments before he nodded his head at her. How they communicated was something to behold. The men stood and watched them speak without words, only looks. The direwolf slowly rose to her feet, until she was to her full height. Her eyes turned from Gendry to the man, her head bending low as the growls began. The two men holding Merret let him go, moving back to get out of her way. Fear held the man down, for when his arms were free he did not flee.

"Nymeria, kill," Gendry whispered.

The direwolf ran forward, a blur of rage and fur. As Gendry looked on, he heard the man's screams turn to gargles as Nymeria's large teeth sunk into his neck. With the jerk of her head, his throat was consumed. Gendry felt nothing as he watched the man fall to the ground, his blood pouring out around him.

"Hang him with the other one. Hang them all and let the crows feast on this day. Allow all that pass this place to see my vengeance" Gendry commanded.

As the men did as he told them, he walked towards the river. The blood was still caked on his clothing and skin. He needed a wash. When he undressed, he weighed out into the current, allowing the water to wash over him. He dove underneath the water, staying there for as long as he could. With his eyes closed, Arya's face swam in his vision. She was alive and well, so beautiful it hurt to look upon her.

Finally, his body screamed for air and he went to the surface, leaving Arya in the dark water beneath him. His eyes opened, seeing the brightness of the day, yet he felt the darkness of his pain. If only he could stay down in the darkness of the water, stay down in the place where Arya's face would look upon him for all eternity. Yet every time, he always came back up without her.

"Gendry?"

He turned, seeing Hot Pie standing on the bank of the river. They had not spoken spoken in days, since their fight. By the look on the boy's face, Gendry knew this would not be a casual visit. He made no move to leave the water.

"Does it make you feel better to have blood on your hands? Does it make the pain any less bearable?"

"No," Gendry answered truthfully.

"Have you even stopped to consider that maybe your causing someone else the same pain you feel? These men have families too, you know! Families that will bear the pain you do because of you!" Hot Pie said miserably.

Gendry had never thought of it that way, nor would he let himself think it. These men, every one of them, deserved death.

"Go home, Hot Pie," Gendry said low.

"Why? Because you don't want to hear the truth? She's dead, Gendry! She's not coming back, and nothing you do will ever bring her back! This insane plan of yours to spread your fury will only lead you to an early grave!" Hot Pie seethed.

"GOOD!" Gendry screamed, slapping his hands down against the water. "I beg for that day to come!"

Hot Pie's eyes went wide, his face frozen in surprise. "Gendry?"

"Go home, Hot Pie."

"Come with me."

Gendry's brow furrowed, "What?"

"I want to show you something. Come with me," Hot Pie repeated again.

For a moment, he did not move from the water, wondering what Hot Pie was playing at. Finally, he moved out of the water, gathering up his soiled clothing. Turning, he headed for the forge. Over his shoulder, he called out to the boy, "Give me a moment to change."

Hot Pie lead him towards the inn. For a moment, Gendry faltered, remembering what had taken place in the building. Arya had almost been raped. He wasn't sure if he could face the room where his abandonment almost cost her so much. Hot Pie turned around, watching him for a moment.

"This place doesn't hold her ghost, Gendry. I promise," he said softly.

After a few more seconds, he began to follow again, until he found himself inside. He stood at the entrance, watching the children running around, the laughter filling his ears. There were so many, yet they looked happy and healthy. None of them took notice of him at first, but as he came completely into the inn, they stopped and looked at him. Some were teenagers, but most were very young. Several came running towards him and Hot Pie. He watched them attack Hot Pie, throwing their arms around him in delight.

"Who's he?" a small boy asked.

"This is a friend. I wanted to introduce him to all of you."

One by one, Hot Pie began introducing Gendry to the children. They nodded their heads at him when their name was called, and Gendry returned a greeted nod back. He spent the rest of the day in the company of the orphans. For the first time since losing Arya, Gendry actually smiled, for some of the smaller children were pretty funny.

"Gendry, this is Willow and her sister Jeyne," Hot Pie said.

Gendry looked up to see two girls standing by the bar. He walked towards them, following Hot Pie.

"Hi, I'm Jeyne," the older of the two girls said. She reached her hand out for Gendry to take. Reluctantly, he reached out and shook her hand. "Yeah, I remember seeing you that night," he said low.

"Yeah, but we weren't introduced," she said, laughing shyly.

"He's not as big as I'd thought. You'd think the men that whispered about you would think you were a giant," said the smaller girl.

Gendry turned his eyes towards her. She was staring at him, not hiding her disappointment. He laughed despite himself. "Men talk about me? My men?"

"No, these aren't your men. These are Riverland folk and travelers. Your becoming famous, though I don't see why," the girl, Willow, said.

"Willow!" Jeyne seethed, though Gendry just laughed again.

"No it's alright. It helps to hear things like that, so my ego won't grow any bigger."

"Yes, but it's rude," she said, giving her sister a pointed look. "You must be hungry? Thirsty?"

Gendry's eyes were on Willow as Jeyne spoke, and he saw the younger girl roll her eyes. Only one name came to his mind as he continued to stare at the small girl. Arya, she's got her spunk, he thought.

"I'm fine, thank you," he answered, finally looking at Jeyne. The moment their eyes met, he did not miss the look that passed in her eyes. A look of longing, which had him feeling uncomfortable. Jeyne looked away immediately, finding the orphans more interesting.

"So, where's the wolf," Willow asked. Jeyne kicked her softly, but she never looked at her sister.

"Eating," Gendry answered.

"When can I see her?"

Yes, so much like Arya. "You wouldn't be scared?" he asked, playfully.

"Nope," she said, popping her p. "I'd give her no reason to attack."

"Then I'll introduce you two soon," Gendry said softly.

Willow smiled at him, which squeezed his heart. She would never be able to replace Arya, but the similarities were uncanny. He turned his head towards Hot Pie, and saw the boy's knowing smile. He now understood why Hot Pie wanted to bring him here. The boy knew he would take to Willow right from the start.

"Ser Gendry! You need to come quick. There is a group of Frey soldiers heading this way, their numbers great. They've been spotted by our spies just up the road!"

Everyone turned to see three of the Brotherhood men hurrying towards Gendry. Their faces were flushed with the act of running all the way to the inn. The light feeling he had at talking with Willow vanished immediately, being replaced by his vengeance again. He turned towards Jeyne and Hot Pie, nodding his head and turned to leave.

"Can I come? I'm a good fighter," Willow called out.

Gendry stopped, turning towards the girl. He sighed, feeling his heart squeeze again. "Not this time, little one. You stay here and guard the orphans. Can you do that for me?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, her disappointment evident.

"Thank you."

Gendry turned and stormed out of the inn. His men were waiting for him with his horse in hand. He climbed on top of it and turned, heading towards the road. Nymeria was there beside him as they went to meet the Frey soldiers in battle.

There were twenty-five Frey soldiers in all. Gendry got the impression that Lord Frey was not taking him seriously. They made easy work of the soldiers, though Gendry took a hit to the shoulder. It was opened, his blood pouring out, yet his adrenaline was in overdrive, and he felt none of the pain.

"You have to get this seen about," Harwin said, as he took a look at his shoulder.

"I'm fine!" Gendry ground out.

"Fine you may be, but not invincible. The wound could fester and kill, your grace."

"What have I said about calling me that, Harwin? Gendry's fine."

The man stopped his inspection of Gendry's shoulder, staring him squarely in the eyes. "You are the son of the true king, your grace. I fight in your father's name and show loyalty where it belongs. You might want to be just Gendry, but to these men you are their prince."

"I am but a bastard, no matter who my father was. I am not even legitimized. I am no prince," Gendry said.

"You are what you are in the eyes of your men! You do not get it yet, do you? Your army is growing, your numbers expanding. Soon, you will be a sight to behold. Soon, you can take back the throne that rightly belongs to you!"

Gendry's head shot towards the man, his eyes growing wide. "That is not what this is about!"

"It may not have started out that way, your grace, but it can lead you to the iron throne! What do you think will happen as your wildfire continues to grow? Already, word is spreading of the bull that rides the wildfire. It is reaching parts of Westeros that was unheard of at the start of all of this. You have the Freys, Boltons and Lannisters shitting in their pants with fear, and when the day comes that people learn of your identity, your heritage, they will come to you in droves!"

Gendry scrambled to his feet, turning his back on Harwin and what he was saying. He did not want the throne, did not want to be king. All he wanted was for the men that took Arya away from him to pay. It was his only mission in life.

"Enough of this talk, Harwin! The iron throne is not what I want! I will not accept!"

Harwin stood, coming to stand beside Gendry. "In time, as your army grows larger than any known, you will change your mind, your grace. Until that time, if it is Ser Gendry you choose to be called, then so be it. Ser Gendry it is! But mark my words, the day is coming when a Baratheon will sit on the iron throne again, and they will call him the bull that rode the wildfire!"

Gendry could do nothing but watch the week pass and his numbers grow. The Brotherhood had expanded to hundreds in just days. Each man that came before him bowed as if he were already the king. They gave him their allegiance and their life. He was powerless to stop it. He was powerless to stop the seed that Harwin had planted inside his mind. He was powerless to stop the thoughts of the iron throne, his father's throne. He looked to Lady Stoneheart for guidance, but she gave him none. Her only words to him was to accept what was happening. He couldn't do that, not fully. It only got worse the day a man came screaming into the camp. His words rung in Gendry's ears, sending sparks of fire throughout his soul.

"THE KING IS DEAD! KING JOFFREY IS DEAD!" the man screamed.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They had been riding for days, until they came across an inn. Arya had not spoken to The Hound, and he had not spoken to her. She kicked herself, knowing how close she had come to escape. She should have been more aware of what was happening around her, but no, she had to be stupid instead. The Hound slowed their trot, looking upon the inn with hungry eyes.

"If you so much as squeak in this place, I'll slit your throat, understand?" he asked without turning to her.

"Squeak," she answered.

The Hound grabbed the front of her shirt, jerking her towards him. "I mean it, Arya! I'll kill you for sure. I'm hungry, thirsty and in a very fucking bad mood! Don't piss me off."

"Fine," she ground out.

After putting their horses away, they walked into the inn. There were few people inhabiting the inn, and they made their way towards the back to a small table. Once seated, Arya began looking around.

"Well, well, well...if it isn't The Hound," someone called out.

The voice that spoke caused cold fingers to scratch down Arya's back. She kept her head down, but slowly she could not stop her eyes from rising and meeting the faces of two men she wanted dead. Polliver and the Tickler sat two seats away. Their smiling faces were looking upon The Hound. They had not noticed her yet, and she sunk further down in her chair to keep her presence a secret.

"Polliver, Tickler," The Hound greeted roughly.

"What an ugly face you have," said a boy sitting beside Polliver.

"Shut up, boy!" Polliver hissed.

"No, I mean it's really ugly."

The boy received a slap on the back of the head. Polliver turned his eyes back to The Hound. "Where have you been Sandor? Your brother's been looking for you," he said laughing.

"I'm sure he has," he answered under his breath.

Underneath the table, Arya watched as his hand went to his sword, sitting lightly on the hilt. She realized he was expecting things to take a turn for the worse.

"Guess you haven't heard the news, have you?" The Hound shook his head in reply. "Your master's dead, dog. He was poisoned by his uncle, the imp."

Arya coughed, not able to keep it in. Could it be true? Could it be that Joffrey was dead? The Hound cut his eyes at her, a warning for her to remain quiet. His eyes were angry, furious, but she wasn't sure if it was because of her or because Joffrey was dead.

"Yeah, and the imp went and got himself married before the king's demise. Married that Stark whore, the one that was betrothed to King Joffrey."

It was Arya's turn to feel the rage take hold. Beside her, The Hound grew rigid. His hand holding the hilt of his sword began to squeeze, until his knuckles were white. The man went on, completely oblivious to the two's rage.

"Riverrun is under siege. Someone's growing an army and taking out all Freys, Boltons and Lannisters, or anyone associated with them. People are running scared, that's for sure. They say the bastard leading them has powers beyond any they've seen. Said he carries a beast on one side and the dead on the other. People are fleeing, claiming the wildfire is growing. Whatever the fuck that means," Polliver said, taking a deep swig of his wine. "But you wouldn't know about any of that, would you, craven," he finished with a laugh.

Before Arya had time to process what was being said, The Hound was to his feet, knocking over the table. He charged at the men, all of whom sat stunned. By the time The Hound reached them, the Tickler had drawn his blade, sending it towards The Hound's throat. He dodged it easily, heading straight for Polliver.

Arya jumped up, watching the boy, who she realized was a squire, head towards The Hound, a sword in his hand. She did not think, did not realize she could escape, but picked up the cup The Hound was drinking from and threw it straight at the boy's head. It hit its mark with a crash. The Hound began fighting both men, but was losing miserably. Arya allowed her rage to take control, and began to charge.

As she passed the boy, who was lying on the ground, he reached out and grabbed her leg. She fell forward, crashing to the ground. Kicking his hand off her foot, she reached out and unsheathed his sword. With a yell of fury, she thrust the blade into his stomach. The boy's eyes went wide as he stared into her dark face. Blood pooled from his wound, sending Arya into a frenzy the moment she smelled the iron scent. Wrenching the blade from the boy's belly, she stood and turned towards The Hound.

She watched as The Hound distracted Polliver and ended the man's horrible existence, but as he does, the Tickler struck him, cutting him deeply. Something grabbed Arya's attention, causing her to cry out in joy. She thought she would never see it again, but there it was. It was sitting in the Polliver's belt, calling to her like a lost child. Jon's face appeared in her mind, and she thought of the moment he had handed the blade to her. Tears swam in her vision for a moment, until she blinked them away. This man had it the whole time. Insane fury burned within her.

As quietly as she could, Arya walked up to Polliver's body, taking Needle in her hand. The Tickler had no clue she was there, had no clue his life was about to end. She would make him pay for everything he had done. She would make him pay with his life. She raised the boy's sword above her head and sent it hurling towards the Tickler's back. The blade cut through fabric and flesh, causing the man to cry out. As he went forward, falling to the ground, Arya went with him. She raised Needle, bringing both blades up and thrusting it towards his back again. One, two, three times she raised both blades and stabbed the man. She lost her mind, her control, as over and over again she stabbed him. She saw Joffrey's face, saw the queen. She saw everyone who had a hand in the massacre of her family, and she continued to stab the man. Blood and gore flew around her, soaking her to the bone, yet she could not stop. The Tickler's back was a gruesome sight, yet she did not see flesh, only faces.

Arya heard The Hound call her weakly, but she refused to stop. He finally grabbed her, pulling her off the dead man's body. "Go, now," he wheezed. She dropped the boy's blade, but held firm to Needle. They were reunited once more.

"End him, Arya," The Hound whispered, as they looked upon the boy withering in pain.

With rage still burning inside her, she walked towards him and thrust Needle into the boy's throat, silencing him forever.

Arya had to help The Hound on his horse, but as he mounted, she followed on her own horse. The galloped away from the carnage inside the inn, and Arya felt alive...felt Needle's power at her side.

"We will make for Saltpan, to a ship, and cross to the Vale," The Hound said softly.

Arya looked over at him, seeing him holding his side. Sweat ran down his pain-filled face. His teeth were clenched as he struggled for breath. She knew he was in bad shape, but she wouldn't know how bad until the next day when he fell from his horse. She had been thinking of ways to escape now that he was hurt, so when he fell, it took her off guard. Arya jumped from her horse, falling to The Hound's side. His face was completely white, void of any color. He was breathing hard. She knew he was close to death.

Dragging him off the road, Arya tied their horses to trees to keep them from running off. She looked around, making sure no one was around. They were completely alone. As The Hound withered in a fevered pain, she began to make a fire. For the rest of the day, she sat their and listened to his moans and gasps. The whole time, she wondered why she had not escaped yet. This was her chance, her moment, yet she stayed beside him tending to his wound. It had become infected and red. His skin was hot to the touch.

"S—S—Sansa," The Hound whispered in his agony. "Sansa."

Arya closed her eyes, hearing her sister's name fall from his lips. She felt him reach out, taking her hand in his. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his glazed ones. "I tried so hard t—to protect you," he whispered. In his mind, he thought she was Sansa, the fever making him delirious. When she began to pull away, The Hound began to cry. "Please," he whispered. "Please don't leave me, little bird."

She turned her head away, her heart pounding erratically. She hated the man, hated him with a passion, but his words struck a cord in her heart. She stopped fighting, allowing him to hold her hand.

"I'm here, Sandor," she said. "I won't leave."

This calmed him, sending him back into his fevered dreams. Arya looked back at him, hate and sadness mingling together, until she scooted towards him bringing his head into her lap. For the rest of the night, she held him while he struggled with the infection, yet he was in bliss thinking Sansa was the one holding him.

The next day, Arya stood above him, Needle in hand. She waited until he came too, his glazed eyes staring towards her and then towards Needle.

"Do it," he whispered. "Do what you have been wanting to do for a while now. Kill me," he begged.

She slowly raised Needle, yet she could not thrust the blade forward. She could not kill the man, nor could she help him any longer. Tears came to the man's eyes, as she felt her own tears appear.

"What are you waiting for! End me!" he begged.

Needle slowly dropped to her side as she bent before him. "For the love you bear my sister, I will not kill you. For the hate that I bear you, I will not help you," she whispered.

"You know, you really are a bitch," The Hound said, coughing on a laugh.

Arya closed her eyes, her lips twitching in a smile. A single tear ran down her cheeks. "I've heard that before."

"A—Are you going to t—take me off that s—stupid list of yours?" he wheezed.

She thought about it for a moment, then slowly began nodding her head. "I think you've earned it," she said, barely above a whisper.

Arya stood to her feet, turning to leave. She walked to her horse Craven, untying him from the tree. The Hound's horse, Stranger, was untied as well, and she slapped the horse to make it charge away. She was sentencing The Hound to his death, she knew, but she could not stop herself.

"If I make it through this, you know I—I am going to k—kill you, right?" he called to her.

She pulled herself onto Craven, turning the horse around so she could see The Hound. She gave him a watery smile, nodding her head. "And I just might let you," she responded.

With that, she kicked the horse into movement, leaving the man in the hands of the gods she did not believe in anymore.

Chapter 26: Sail Away To Forget

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

For six days Arya made her way towards Saltpan, until finally she arrived. The town had been burned out, yet she could still make out three boats in the port, one of which was seaworthy. Her plan had gotten her this far, but now she faltered, not sure what to do next. Climbing down from Craven, she looked around for a place to sell the horse, for she needed silver. When she spotted the place she needed, she made her way to it. Minutes later, she walked out with silver in her pocket, but no horse to her name.

"Excuse me sir, I was wondering if I could buy passage on your ship," Arya asked the man, who she assumed was the captain.

He looked her over, once, and then huffed, turning his back to her. "What's a girl like you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home playing with dolls?"

"I have silver for passage, sir," she said, ignoring his words.

He turned back around at this, watching her closely. "This ship is sailing home. I have no time for anything else. Run along now," he shooed her.

"What is the name of the ship? Where's it going?" she asked.

The man looked at his ship proudly, his face shining in a smile. "This here is the Titan's Daughter and she's sailing home to Bravvos."

Suddenly, Arya felt a weight in her pocket that she had not felt before. Her head slowly looked down as her hand retrieved something inside. She brought the coin Jaqen H'ghar had given her out and held it before the man's eyes. The man froze instantly, staring at the coin with wide-eyes.

"Valar marghulis," Arya whispered.

The man's eyes shot towards hers, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Valar dohaeris," he whispered back. "You will have a cabin come the morning. We leave at the dawn." He staggered away from her, as if he feared her so. She watched him go, until he disappeared into his ship.

"You don't want the silver?" she called to him, but he was already gone.

Arya turned away from the ship, walking to the nearest inn. She was starving and thirsty. Deciding to use the silver for food and drink, Arya sat down in the darkened corner by herself and started eating.

"Well, I don't care what you say, his army is growing! Pretty soon, it will outnumber even Stannis Baratheon's army if it continues like it is."

Arya's head shot up at the name she recognized. Two men, a table over, had their heads together and talking in low whispers, but Arya was able to hear them.

"I still say we are safer here," one of the men whispered. "We're a long way away from the battle. I don't feel like getting caught up in their war. Besides, I've heard the boy uses otherworldly things to fight his battles. You telling me you want to be a apart of that?"

"Raymond, the war is spreading to every corner of Westeros, It's coming here whether you like it or not. Now's the time to ally ourselves with someone, and this boy is our best bet. Everyone's talking about him. Everyone's talking about how he's making those power Houses fall to their knees!"

"I still don't like it. But if you want to, then let's do it," the man said.

Arya listened for a little while longer, but they ceased their talking. Someone's raising an army against the power Houses? I hope he burns them to the ground, Arya thought.

She paid for a room for the night, and walked groggily upstairs. As soon as she sat on the bed, the silence gathered around her. The feeling of being alone came down upon her again, and no matter how much she tried to shake it, she couldn't. What was she doing here? Arya looked around the small, dark room, wondering why she had come to this place. Her hands sat in her lap, shaking.

She couldn't do this, could she? Could she get on that ship and leave her home behind? Arya stood and walked towards her window, looking out into the night's sky. The moon shown down on the ship she was boarding at dawn, yet her heart squeezed at the thought of leaving. Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of totally and completely leaving Gendry behind. How easy it would be to turn the other direction and go back to him. How easy it would be to go back into the lion's den just to reach him again.

Why are you doing this, rang his voice in her head.

Arya slammed her eyes closed as she heard him speaking loudly in her mind. "Because you didn't want me," she whispered in the silence.

I will forever want you, Arya, he said.

"Then why did you let me go!" she screamed. "Why didn't you follow me, come looking for me! I waited for you, searched for you and you weren't there! You never came," she cried.

There was no answer this time. Arya reached up, swiping the tears away angrily. She remembered The Hounds words. He told her to look upon her hurt and pain as dirt underneath her shoes and kick it away. She stormed towards her bed and laid down, allowing sleep to take her over.

She was Nymeria again, walking through the forest towards what sounded like a river. The moon hung low, but she did not need the light to see. She knew the way by heart. There were voices ahead and she slowed to listen.

"It looks like it hurts."

"It's not that bad. It looks worse than it really is."

She recognized Gendry's voice right away, but the other voice was foreign to her ears. She crept closer, wanting to make sure he was in no danger. He sat on the bank of the river, the moon's glow bouncing off his chest. She recognized the girl from the inn hovering over Gendry's shoulder. Her hand was touching his skin as he began to hiss.

"I'm sorry," the girl said softly, her face showing her guilt.

Gendry shook his head, "It's alright. Needs to be done."

"Are you sure you won't have some wine to dull the pain?" she asked.

"No, sometimes pain is good."

She watched him for a moment, their faces close together. No words were spoken for what seemed like eternity. "I can make your pain ease if you will let me, Ser Gendry," the girl whispered. "You know that I fancy you very much, and I know if you will allow me I can make your feelings for me grow as well. Your world does not have to end."

She felt anger rise up within her at the girl. This was her master's mate, not hers. She did not think on her actions, but jumped from the brushes and straight towards the girl. The girl looked up, screaming as she saw the direwolf heading towards her. Gendry was on his feet immediately, standing in between her and the girl, his arms raised to stop her.

"Nymeria, no!" he yelled.

She was past the point of listening, wanting nothing more than to feel the girl's blood run down her throat. As she tried to swing around him, Gendry jumped on top of her, bringing her head down to the ground. "I said no, Nymeria! Settle down," he commanded, struggling against her strength.

She began to whine, for she felt the loss of her master. She began to whine, for she felt the betrayal of the boy. Gendry grabbed her face, bringing her up to look at him. In his eyes, she saw her pain match his. So, it was possible he had not forgotten her master after all.

"Jeyne, I think it's best you leave," Gendry said, without looking away.

The girl nodded her head in stunned silence, turning and running into the forest. Still, Gendry did not let her go, but he allowed her head to rise. She looked up at him, accusations still in her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, turning away. "That's how she used to look at me."

She noticed his wounded shoulder had been patched up. The anger soared within her again, because she knew the girl had touched him. She wiggled free of his hold, slowly walking backwards, yet keeping her eyes upon him. He turned fully towards her, reaching his hand out for her to come back to him.

"Nymeria, come," he called quietly.

She continued stepping back, further and further away from him, until she raised her head and howled her pain. He was on his feet at once, stepping towards her, but she turned and darted away, too fast for him to catch up. She left him behind, as her howls shook the night.

Arya's eyes opened, as gasp fell from her mouth. She tried to stand from the bed, but her legs were tangled in the sheets, and she hit the hard floor with a smack. She sat their, her eyes wide but unseeing. Through Nymeria, she had seen Gendry with another woman, with Jeyne. He had forgotten her so easily. He had moved on without thought. Here she was contemplating her actions of leaving when he had already left her behind. The pain was more than enough to cause her tears to pour from her eyes. Had she ever meant anything to him?

Arya reached up, grabbing her chest as an overpowering pain shot through her heart. She looked up at the window, seeing the moon shining through her window. The coin was laying on the table shining in the moon's light. She crawled towards it, grabbing it and holding it close to her chest. By this time tomorrow night, she would be as far away from this hell as she could get.

The moon gave way to morning and Arya dressed. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the deadness in her eyes. After the vision with Nymeria, she had not been able to go back to sleep. Instead, she had sat on the floor with the coin in her hand and rocked back and forth till dawn. In those passing hours, she had given up her hold on Gendry. She had allowed her feelings for him to wash away with her tears. Gendry was no more than a ghost in her mind, like the ghost of her parents and brother. He had to be that way for her to do what she needed to do.

Arya stepped out into the cool wind. There weren't many people about this early in the morning, and she made her way over towards the ship. As she passed the place where she had sold Craven, she took a double take as the horse stood there and stared at her. She slowed, until she stopped and stared. The horse made no noise, no sound, just stared at her. She felt her heart jump, as if the horse was showing her how simple it would be to climb on its back and ride away. It was as if the horse was telling her to come and take it away. The stone that had replaced her heart made her turn from the beast and walk towards the port.

"Your cabin awaits, my dear," the captain said. He bowed low, reaching his hand out for her to climb aboard his ship.

Don't do this, Gendry's voice whispered in her head.

Aray stopped walking, closing her eyes for a moment, and begging the voice to go away. With her eyes closed, she could see his face, as if he stood before her on the dock. How very sad his features were. How very dark his eyes were looking at her. She could feel his pain as much as she could feel her own. But the vision she had the night before came careening through her thoughts. She saw Jeyne's face inches away from Gendry's. She heard the girl's whispered words, as if she were saying them all over again.

"Miss, if you're coming, now is the time," the captain said gently.

Arya opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him. "Kick the hurt and pain away," she whispered.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Arya climbed aboard the Titan's Daughter, walking past the men who looked upon her with curious eyes. As soon as her eyes met theirs, they turned away from the darkness of her stare. She walked all the way to the stern, grabbing the railings as the captain yelled for them to set sail. His yell was like a death nail on her coffin. Her hands tightened against the railing as she felt the first shift of the ship. As it glided out of the port, Arya stared at the land she was leaving behind. Tears formed in her eyes, her heart too heavy to bear. And even as the land continued to grow smaller and smaller in her sights, Gendry's voice still echoed in her ear.

Come back to me, Arya, he begged.

Arya clenched her jaw, pushing his voice and everything that he was away from her. She closed both mind and soul to him as the water swept in around the ship. But right before she turned to go to her cabin, Arya could have sworn she heard the howl of a direwolf leagues away from where she stood.

"There's still no sign of her, Ser Gendry," Harwin said.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Find her!" Gendry ground out. "I don't care how long it takes! Find Nymeria. She can't have gone off too far. She wouldn't leave me that long." At least he hoped she wouldn't. He had no idea what happened, no idea why the direwolf had seemed so angry with him.

He was headed towards the inn, needing to talk to Jeyne about what happened the night before. Nymeria had come and interrupted them before he could speak with her. His head was pounding with a massive headache, and he was on edge for reasons he did not understand. He had awoken at dawn after a horrible nightmare. He had seen Arya across a vast ocean. She had reached out for him, but she was too far away and he couldn't reach her. He had screamed her name, begged her to come back to him, to meet him halfway, but she had never moved. Gendry had watched in horror as the ocean had swallowed her whole, and when he had awoken, the tears were streaming down his face. He had gone off to find Nymeria for comfort, but she was no where to be found. He had felt a desperation that was slowly growing inside him.

"You look like hell," Willow called to him.

Not even the small girl could cut in to his dark mood. He passed by her without speaking, though he did ruffle her hair. She slapped his hand away, scoffing at him. "Where's your sister?" he asked.

Just then, Jeyne came into view. As soon as she saw him, she froze. Her face began to smile, but when he did not return it, the smile faltered. He nodded his head towards the back door for her to follow. Jeyne sat the plates she was carrying down and followed him.

For a long while, the two just walked. Neither of them spoke. When the came to the river, Gendry finally sighed heavily, turning towards the girl.

"I know," she whispered before he said a word.

"No. I don't think you really do," Gendry said immediately. "Jeyne, there will never come a day that I don't think about her. There will never come a time that her name will not be uttered from my lips. No matter how old I grow, or how young I die, there will never be anyone but her," he said gently.

Tears sprung to the girl's eyes, sending a pang of sadness through Gendry. He had come to care about her, Willow and all of the orphans very much. He never wanted to cause Jeyne any pain, but the girl had to understand.

"I am but a broken man," he whispered. "I will never be any good to you or for you, Jeyne. My heart was taken from me the moment Arya stepped into my life, and even in death she continues to hold it."

"I would have taken what you could have given me," she sobbed softly, tear rolling down her cheeks.

Gendry reached out, touching her arm lightly. "That is the whole point, Jeyne. I would have been able to give you nothing, for I have nothing to give," he said painfully.

"You deserve more than that, Gendry."

"And yet, I let it go like it was nothing."

Jeyne reached over, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, trying to feel something, trying to be able to give her something of himself, but Arya had taken it all away. The girl squeezed him, crying softly in his ear. "If ever the day comes where you find yourself again, please come to me," she begged. Gendry slammed his eyes shut, feeling his pain. "I promise," he whispered to her.

She dropped her arms from around his neck, kissing him softly on the cheek, before turning and walking away. Gendry stood by the river, watching the sun glistening off the water. The sight was a beauty to behold, yet he felt nothing but emptiness. It felt as if he were dead already, and perhaps he was. He wondered briefly if this was what Lady Stoneheart felt like.

"Come back to me, Arya," Gendry breathed.

Suddenly, a howl broke through his thoughts, wheeling him around towards the forest. It was Nymeria. Gendry did not hesitate, but stormed towards where the howling was coming from. He remembered the last time he had heard her howl. Days later, he had found Arya's charred body. He knew that Nymeria had felt her death. But what would make the direwolf howl this time? Gendry felt the cold hand of dread grab a hold of him, and he began to run faster. Knocking tree limbs out of his way, he came towards a clearing. She was in the middle, her head raised to the sky. She did not seem to notice him, but continued her song of sorrow.

Gendry inched forward, until he could reach out to her. The moment his hands touched her head, she turned towards him. Her eyes were so sad, her whining even sadder. She leaned in to him, her whining continued. He knelt before her, wrapping his arms around as she continued her crying.

"What's happening this time, girl?" he whispered to her.

Nymeria raised her head again, her howl deafening. There was nothing Gendry could do but to hold the direwolf as she fought against a pain Gendry did not understand.

Chapter 27: Selling My Soul To The Devil

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

The moment Arya touched down in the free city of Braavos, she froze. Her eyes looked around her, watching the people coming and going in a hurry. So this was the home of Syrio Forel. At the thought of the man, a sad smile lit her face. What would he think of her if he could see her now? What would he think of her being in Braavos?

"Excuse me, sir..." she called out to a passing man. He walked passed her as if she weren't there. "Ma'am..." Arya called. Again, she was ignored.

Arya huffed, feeling frustration overtake her. Shaking her head, not willing to be overlooked, she stepped into the middle of the crowd. She reached inside her pocket to retrieve the coin when a voice behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

"A girl looks, but she does not see."

The hairs on the back of Arya's head stood on end. She began to turn around when the voice spoke again, "Do not turn just yet. Ahead of the girl is a small alleyway. There, a man can talk in secret."

Arya did as he told her to. She didn't turn around, but walked straight towards the alley he was talking about. The moment she walked into the darkness, she turned around. He was standing in shadow, his face too dark to read. She squinted her eyes for a better look, but it was no use. How had found her?

"Jaqen?" she called to him.

"A girl remembers," he said, more as a statement than a question.

Arya rolled her eyes, "Well, yeah, I did. You were the one who gave me the coin for passage didn't you?"

"And yet, a man did not think you would come," he said softly.

"Call it a last minute decision."

It was then that he came closer, walking into the light. What Arya saw had her gasping in shock and surprise. Gone was the face of Jaqen H'ghar that she remembered. The face she was staring at was as much a stranger to her than any of the other faces in Braavos. Could she have been tricked? No, she knew his voice well. It was him, though his face had completely changed.

"A girl should not be afraid. Though you do not recognize me, the man is the same as you remember. Is the coin still in your possession?" he asked.

Arya dug it out of her pocket, holding it up for "new" Jaqen to see. "Good, take it up to the hill behind you. There, you will come to a building. If the girl still wants to go down this road, she will know what to do once she has made it to the doors."

She watched him walk backwards, slowly. "Come with me," she begged softly.

Jaqen smiled, "The girl will see me again, do not fear."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows. Arya stood there a moment, not sure if she could make her feet move, but she concentrated on her anger and vengeance and her feet moved on their own. The hill was behind her as Jaqen had said. She began climbing, and realized it was further than she thought. By the time she made it to the top, she was out of breath. Leaning over, she gasped until her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out. Looking up, she saw the building Jaqen had talked about.

The doors stood tall and unmoving as she tried to pry them open. Arya kicked the ebony side of the two-toned door, anger flashing through her. He said I would know what to do when I got here, she thought. Suddenly, the answer hit her.

She took the coin out, raising it in front of her and speaking the words that became second nature to her at this point. "Valar morghulis."

The two-toned doors began to creak open, revealing a dark corridor. With a deep sign, Arya walked forward into the darkness. Around her, stood alters with different gods. Ahead of her, a pool shimmered in the darkness. A man was standing before it trying to draw water. Arya could tell he was having a hard time. Without thinking, she rushed towards him to help. As soon as he turned to her, she gasped, seeing the stab wound in his side. His face was pale, as if death was but a breath away. It was in that moment she took in her surroundings. People lay all around the pool, some not moving, while others were moaning. Something grabbed her by he arm and she spun away, seeing a girl's dead eyes looking up at her. Arya backed away from the dying, her mind reeling.

"You come, but you leave so soon?" said someone behind her.

Arya turned abruptly, seeing a tall hooded figure standing before her. "Jaqen?" she whispered.

"I do not know this Jaqen," the hooded figure responded. "What is your name, child?"

"Salty," she answered, the first thing popping in her head.

"You are bad liar," he responded. "Answer truthfully, for you have come too far to play games."

"Arya," she whispered. "Arya Stark."

The man took a few steps towards her, as if he were mulling over her real name. "There is no place here for Arya Stark," the man said low.

"I have nowhere else to go," she said, desperately.

The man did not reply at first. She felt his eyes upon her, though she could not see underneath his cloak. "You do not have anywhere else to go, but tell him, child, are you afraid of death?" She watched him reach up and pull back his hood. What met her eyes would have had the old Arya running from the room screaming, but the hard, dead Arya was not easily afraid.

"No," she whispered.

The man stood before her, his head that of a yellow skeleton with a worm hanging from one eye socket. "Prove it," he demanded. "If this Arya Stark is not afraid of death, kiss me."

She did not hesitate, but walked towards him and placed her lips upon his cheek. Just for good measure, and to drive home her point to the man, she plucked the worm from his eye, allowing him to see her eat it. The yellow skull vanished, revealing a kindly face, which at the moment looked a little taken aback.

"No one has ever done that before," he said, amazed.

"What can I say," Arya said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You must be hungry," he said, his face softer, his voice kinder.

She thought about it for a moment before answering. "I am hungry, but for vengeance," she whispered.

The man smiled at her. "Then let us be away then. Come, child, and I will introduce you to the House of Black and White."

Arya faltered for a moment, the name sounding very familiar, but she couldn't remember where she had heard it. She had no time to think upon it before she found herself in another darkened room. As the kindly man continued walking, Arya could feel others in the room, though she could not see them. The kindly man stopped and turned towards her, motioning her forward. Arya went, though warily.

As soon as she made it towards him, the lights turned on and Arya realized she was surrounded by other hooded figures. They stood in a circle around her and the kindly man, their faces obscured. She wanted to see the new face of Jaqen, so she could send him death looks for making her come here. She turned slowly in a circle, trying her best to see.

"You show courage, child. You have vengeance...that is good, for you will need it. Prove yourself useful with your courage and your vengeance, and we will accept you into our guild. You will never have to worry about having no where to go again," said the kindly man.

"And what guild is this?" she asked softly.

The kindly man smiled, his eyes boring in to her. "The Guild of the Faceless Men."

Arya sucked in a breath, though she tried to hide it. Now that name she had heard before. She peered around her, desperate to see Jaqen. Suddenly, one of the men looked up, his face barely visible in the darkness, but she did not miss the smile upon his lips.

"Oh fuck," she whispered to herself.

Jaqen was there, watching her with his smile. If looks could have killed, Jaqen would have fallen to his knees before everyone.

"Perhaps I was mistaken thinking the girl had courage," the kindly man said.

After several more seconds of staring at Jaqen, she turned her face towards the kindly man. "I have more courage than some in this room," she ground out, her words directed at Jaqen.

"We shall see. Come, your room and a hot meal awaits." Arya gave Jaqen one last death stare and went to follow the kindly man. The whole time she was screaming in her mind that she had just sold her soul to the devil.

Her room was under the temple, and the kindly man told her she could explore as long as her chores were done. Since her chores would not start until the morning, Arya knew exactly where she was going to explore. She stormed out of her room, heading above ground, but she barely made it half way up the stairs when his voice called out to her.

"A girl is mad," he said, stating his words instead of asking them.

She spun around, pointing her finger at him and storming towards him. A girl is fixing to kick your ass. "What the fuck, Jaqen!" she hissed.

"Perhaps it is best if we take this discussion outside. These walls have ears of their own."

He lead her out into the cool Braavos night. When she had arrived, it had been early morning, yet she did not feel that that much time had passed. The moon hung high in the sky, shining down upon them.

"The faceless men, Jaqen? Are you kidding me?" she said, pouring her anger out.

"A girl has the courage to become a faceless man, otherwise I would have never offered her the chance. A girl does not see her capabilities, for she still sees the girl she used to be," he said softly.

"Capable of vengeance," she said, mimicking their conversation from Harrenhall.

Jaqen shook his head, "Capable of murder," he whispered, turning their words around. "A girl will not be dishing out her vengeance here, but the vengeance of others."

"A little heads up would have been too much to ask?" she spat.

"The decision was the girl's to make."

"Fuck you, Jaqen! I would have never chosen the faceless men!" She said the words like it was a disease.

"Yet, she is still here. She can leave at any time, but she chooses to stay."

"You know why! I have no where..." she began, but he cut her off. "You have a home. You have that boy."

"I have neither!" she yelled.

Silence fell around them for a moment. Arya looked away, into the darkness surrounding them. Even now, it hurt to be reminded that she couldn't go back to Winterfell. It hurt even more to be reminded she couldn't go back to Gendry. She had nothing, for she was no one.

"The man will be here with you every step of the way," Jaqen finally said, breaking the silence.

Arya scoffed, "I'd rather have the yellow skeleton!"

Jaqen chuckled, not feeling offended by her words. Arya crossed her arms over her chest, brooding in her anger. The thought of having someone familiar in this place began to settle within her. It calmed the anger, somewhat.

"I liked your old face better," Arya said, softly. "Is your name even Jaqen H'ghar?"

He shook his head no, smiling.

"Are you going to tell me your real name?" she asked.

Again, he answered her by shaking his head no. She scoffed at him again, turning away to walk back inside. "A girl does not have to be alone anymore," he whispered.

She stopped, turning to look at him. "I'll hold you to that." When he said nothing else, she turned and walked back towards her dark room.

The days turned in to weeks, weeks into months. Arya had chores in the days, but was able to go freely at night. She searched the temple from top to bottom, finding the statues of the gods uncomfortable. They seemed to follow her with their eyes, no matter what direction she went. Jaqen kept his word, and was there whenever she searched for him. Some nights, they spoke of the faceless men and their duties, but other nights they did not speak at all, just sat in the darkness.

The day came when the kindly man called her in the dark, round room again. The members of the faceless men stood in a circle around her again. Jaqen raised his head a moment, just for her to see that he was present. The kindly man walked around her, searching her up and down. Arya stood completely still, wondering what he was doing.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"No one," she replied, for that was what he wanted to hear, though deep inside her heart she knew exactly who she was. She was Arya Stark from Winterfell.

"The girl still lies! What is your name!" he demanded.

Arya looked at her situation, seeing her lot in life. Her father was dead, her mother and brother too. The rest of her family, she had not a clue, but did it really make a difference? She was so far detached from them that it was as if they were dead as well. What of Gendry? Her heart squeezed at the memory of him. He had moved on, finding comfort in the arms of Jeyne. He, too, was so far away from her. There was Nymeria, but Arya knew the direwolf had every right to hate her. She had nothing. She had no one. She was no one. Finally, after months of the kindly man asking her what her name was, she understood. She truly and completely was no one.

"No one," she whispered, raising her eyes to meet his.

He watched her for a moment, his face and thoughts unreadable. Ever so slowly, his lips began to turn upwards in a smile. "The girl finally understands," he said so soft. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Go to the river at midnight. Take the possessions that belong to Arya Stark and dispose of them. Arya Stark, you are not. Starting tomorrow, you will begin the process of forgetting your old life. Soon, the name Arya Stark will be but a whisper upon the breeze."

That night, at midnight, Arya and Jaqen walked to the river like the kindly man had said. In her arms, she had the only belongings she owned. Several men on the Titan's Daughter had given her gifts, but they would be at the bottom of the river after tonight. She held one possession that caused her heart to squeeze. In her belt, Needle sat.

One by one, she threw everything away, until there was nothing left but Needle. She unsheathed it, staring at the blade. She could hear Jon's voice in her head, talking to her about the blade on the day he gave it to her. She held it out above the water, but her hands would not let it go. Instead, she sat it aside as she undressed, throwing away the only pair of clothing she owned. The faceless men would supply her new clothing now. She knew Jaqen was watching her, but he had seen her naked before. She felt unashamed standing naked before him.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that I will ram this fucking blade through your eye," she said, only half joking. He turned his head to look out at the water, a soft chuckle falling from his mouth.

Arya bent down, taking Needle in her hand. She couldn't do it, wouldn't do it. Instead, she turned from the river and walked back to the temple.

"A girl must get rid of all possessions," Jaqen said low.

"And a girl does not give a fuck," she said, as she continued walking.

Arya expected Jaqen to rat her out, but as the weeks passed, the kindly man never said a word to her. She kept Needle hidden safely in her room. The kindly man had been right. After the night she threw away her possessions, he began helping her forget. As softly as the breeze blowing in the trees, her families faces disappeared from her memory. As gently as silk on skin, Gendry's face dissolved into mist, until Arya knew them no more. She poured herself into the faceless men, into her chores. She did everything that was asked of her. Her and Jaqen became inseparable as the months continued to pass.

The day came that Arya was sent for her first assignment, and it was nerve wracking. She had been out in public eavesdropping, but this time she would have some hands-on duties. She was to secure entrance to a heavily-guarded building. She flew through alleyways, crept through busy streets without being seen. She was the Cats of the Canals. How easy it had been to slither into the heavily-guarded building, for who could see a person that was no one. Securing a passageway, Jaqen took over the rest. She watched, somewhat in horror, as he consumed the place in death, yet made it look as though their target's heart had just given out. With the smallest of a sowing needle, he had poisoned the man with the softest of pricks. On her face, a smile began to grow, one that matched Jaqen's perfectly.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gendry and his army of ten thousand walked upon the land that had been known throughout Westeros as cursed. He had not been back since the moment he had found Arya's charred body, but he found himself on this land again. Only this time, Lord Frey's men lay dead or dying. They had come in like the wildfire people called them and obliterated all that stood. Gendry had lost few men in the battle, which he was thankful for. Though his numbers were growing each day, he could not afford to even lose one of them, not if he was going to go through with his plan to burn all of Westeros.

He stormed over the long bridge connecting the two towers, Nymeria by his side. Lady Stoneheart was at his other side, her face burning in the memory of what had happened here. He would give her justice today. He would lay Lord Frey's head before her. The men lined up on either side of them, screaming their victory as they passed by. Gendry could smell the blood of men on his skin and clothing, burning in to his nose, yet it filled him with such power. He raised his blood-soaked Warhammer above his head and screamed out in victory. His men responded in deafening volume.

They entered the tower where Lord Frey sat chained to his black throne. The man watched them coming towards him, his face a mixture of hate and fear. As his eyes roamed to Lady Stoneheart. Gendry saw his breath hitch.

Yes, you bastard, look upon the face of death, Gendry thought.

Walder Frey's sons were lined up against the wall, a sword to their throats. All that remained alive were present, some sobbing and pleading, while others remained calm and quiet. Either way, they would all die today. Lady Stoneheart and Nymeria slowed, but Gendry continued walking until he was leaning towards the Lord chained to his chair. Slowly, Gendry leaned into his face, his lips snarling his disgust. Lord Frey met his stare with one of indifference, and it burned the wildfire deep within him.

"You picked the wrong girl to murder," Gendry whispered. "The wrong girl! Harwin, bring me one of his sons!" he yelled in the lord's face.

Harwin drug one of the older sons towards where Gendry stood. The man was sobbing, pleading with them not to kill him. "I wasn't even here! I swear it! Tell them father! Tell them I wasn't here!" the man cried. Lord Frey spoke not a word.

Gendry began to smile, seeing how evil the man truly was. His pride would not allow him to save his son, though there would have been no saving to have. Perhaps, the man knew it, and that was the cause of silencing his tongue. Gendry turned his back on the man, walking towards his son. His grip tightened on the hilt of the Warhammer, the bracelet making clanking noises as he walked.

"Men!" Gendry shouted. "What do we do to Freys?"

"Kill, kill, kill..." the men screamed back.

"Did you hold her down as they set her skin on fire?" Gendry whispered to the son. "Did you light the match that burned her through?"

"I swear I wasn't here! Show me mercy, milord! Show me mercy!"

"I will show you the same mercy that was shown upon the woman I loved," Gendry purred. "Men, bring me the torch!"

One of the Brotherhood brought Gendry a torch. He took it, nodding his thanks to the man. Lord Frey's son began to scream, even before the flames touched his skin. Gendry kicked him, knocking him on his back. His foot came down, resting on the man's chest as the flames moved slowly towards his face. The man fought against him, but Gendry was strong in his fury. The man's scream grew in volume as the flames touched his face, burning his flesh. Gendry set his clothing afire as the man withered and screamed in pain.

He turned his snarl back to Lord Frey. "One down, twenty-something to go," Gendry growled. "Bring me the next son!" he screamed.

One by one, Gendry cut down each of Lord Frey's son's. By the end, his methods of torture was scaring even himself, yet he could not fight against the fury driving him forward. Each one of Lord Frey's sons littered the floor of the Great Room. The man looked at his dead sons, tears finally pricking the corners of his eyes, though Gendry knew it wasn't due to sadness of what he had seen. The man knew his moment had come.

"You do it, Gendry, and let your men see your wrath," Lady Stoneheart whispered. He looked towards her, surprised that she would not take the opportunity to end Lord Frey's existence. Her dead eyes were staring at the man, a sadistic smile plastered to her face. "Bring me his heart!" she cried.

Gendry walked towards the chained Lord Frey. The man never blinked, never flinched. Gendry wished he had struggled. He wished he had cried out, but he remained with his eyes staring at Lady Stoneheart as Gendry unsheathed a blade and drove it into the man's chest. Lord Frey gasped, but made no other noise. Gendry cut the man open, digging his hand into his chest and cutting the man's heart from his body. The blood poured over his skin, soaking him in red. As Lord Frey slumped forward in death, Gendry turned towards Lady Stoneheart and laid the man's heart at her feet.

His men irrupted in screams and cries! They yelled his name, pumping their swords into the air in their leader's victory and kill. The mighty House Frey had crumbled to the ground at the hands of King Robert's bastard son.

They walked from the tower. "Burn it to the ground with everything and everyone inside!" he commanded the men. No one objected, but did as they were told. Gendry walked away with Lady Stoneheart and Nymeria at his sides, the flames of the Twins licking the back of his neck.

"Now, we go after the Boltons," Lady Stoneheart purred.

Gendry knew she would choose them next, leaving the Lannisters last, for they would feel the mighty wrath of forty thousand men once their time came.

Chapter 28: Secrets, Lies and Hope

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Gendry sat on the bank of the river. He was washing his blood-soaked hands as his eyes stared into the water. His mind was restless as it always was after he killed. He hated these moments, almost as much as he hated the ones he killed. In these moments, in the silence of the forest around him, he could feel the impact of his actions. As each new day passed, and he killed more and more in his vengeance, he was slipping further away from the man he knew he was. Each death took a piece of him, though he didn't want to admit it. But it was also in these moments by the river that he felt himself again, felt as if he could breathe. His hands were stained in the color red, but his soul felt as black as night.

Beside him, Willow sat petting Nymeria. She was the only one, beside Hot Pie when he would come, that Gendry allowed near him after he had slaughtered. At first, he had pushed her away, but she continued coming, until one day he realized that she helped to calm him. The girl did not talk much, but just sat in the horrible silence with him. It was a way to make him feel as though he weren't alone when he would battle the demons inside himself.

He scrubbed his face clean of the blood. His large hands rubbed his eyes, for he felt as if he hadn't slept in years. His legs were pulled up as he resting his elbows on his knees. His deep, blue eyes stared out at the water before him, the sun's rays shining on the surface. Gendry found it sad that such beauty was lost on him.

"Gendry?" Willow called softly beside him.

He was surprised to hear her voice, for she never really talked as she sat with him. He turned his head slowly towards her, seeing her face looking at him, unsure. "Yeah?" he croaked out.

"Is it safe to talk to you now?" she asked, her voice small.

His brow furrowed. "You can always talk to me, Willow," he said softly.

The girl began shaking her head, not looking away from the direwolf. "There are moments I know to be silent. Moments I know when the darkness has you. I'm not judging you," she added quickly. "I just know in those moments, there's no reaching you."

Gendry felt sick to his stomach at her words. Even a child young as she could see how dark he had become. Though he wanted to tell her she was wrong, he knew Willow had hit it square on the head. There were moments he was completely lost in the darkness, and he feared one day he would not be able to find his way back out. When all of this first started, he kept a level head, knew the reason he killed, but now...now he was drowning in it. This was the sole reason he fought so hard to save Arya from this path. How ironic he had chosen the path for himself.

"It's not worth it anymore, Gendry," the girl whispered.

He sighed loudly, "Willow..." he began, but she interruped, "No, you said I could talk, so shut up and listen!"

Gendry chuckled despite his dark mood. Willow was a persistent little snot. It's what made him love her so much, for in those moments he could close his eyes and almost believe it was Arya chiding him. He looked over at her, nodding his head for her to continue.

"You aren't honoring her by destroying the good within you, Gendry. If anything, you bring shame to her memory."

The words were spoken so softly, so gently, but it was as if Willow had slapped him. He felt the pain radiate through his body, felt the shame wash over him like water. He stared at the girl, seeing the first signs of tears and it squeezed his heart. How could a girl her age, the age of nine, know so much?

Oh Arya, if you could see this girl, he thought.

Gendry reached over, taking the girl's hand in his, squeezing lightly. "I'm still me," he whispered.

The girl shook her head, her face growing ever sadder. "Yeah, but for how long? Did you know that every time I come here looking for you after you return from a battle, I wonder if this time I will see that you've finally lost yourself? No matter how much you try to deny it, it's killing you slowly."

"It can't kill me, Willow. I'm already dead inside," he admitted, shocked that he had said it out loud.

The girl looked at him, anger growing within her eyes. "You're not a craven, Gendry! So stop acting like one. You are as much alive as I am, but you choose to be dead. Stop acting like nothing else matters just because you can't deal with the pain. You aren't the only one who has ever lost someone, nor will you be the last. Those men, your men, would give their lives for you without question, but I think it's stupid! You ask them to follow you and do your bidding, yet you can't show them the decency to actually choose to live, choose to make the life they protect worth something! You've given up, yet you ask your men to fight! That's a craven if I ever knew one!"

"What do you know? What have you seen in your short life that makes you the expert," he spat, not able to stop it.

Willow did not look mad at his words. If anything, her face turned more sad. Her large eyes looked up at him, a sad smile playing on her lips. "I may be young, Gendry, but I've seen things no one should ever have to see. I've had things happen to me that no one should have had to face. And yet, I have gotten through it all without it destroying me. I might not have lost a great love in my life, but what I have lost was just as powerful. If someone my age can survive and live on, so can you."

"Nothing will ever hurt you again," Gendry said, conviction in his voice.

Willow shook her head, "It's not me I'm worried about anymore, though."

Gendry sighed deeply, running his hands over his face. His head was beginning to pound like the beat of a drum, over and over again the pain beat at his temple. When was the last time he slept? Ate? He could not remember, but knew it had been days.

"You have to get away from her, both you and Nymeria," Willow whispered.

Gendry jerked his head over to look at the girl, for he could hear a tinge of fear in her voice. "Who?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Willow scoffed, yet the fear in her eyes did not ease. "You know who! Gendry, that—that, whatever she is, scares the shit out of me."

"She won't hurt you," he said, leaving no room for argument, but this was Willow he was talking to and an argument was inevitable.

"That isn't Arya's mother anymore. Thoros was right to not to want to bring her back, Gendry. She's a cold, hard woman, and she is rubbing off on you!"

"That's enough, Willow," he said, his words cutting through the air like a blade.

"No it isn't. I haven't even begun to start!" she shot back.

Gendry could not, would not, listen to anymore. He went to stand up, but Willow grabbed him, pushing him back to the ground. He was taken aback by the small girl's strength, just another reminder of Arya. He stared at her, his anger rising within him, yet he could not speak it out loud, not to her.

"Tell me something, Gendry. When you're out there spreading your vengeance, does she kill too? Or does she make you do her dirty work?" Willow seethed. "Does she stand and watch as every life you take you lose a piece of yourself? Does she smile that smile of hers knowing you become her puppet more and more every day? I might be young, but I'm not stupid, not as stupid as you seem to be when it comes to that walking, dead woman! She's got you so trapped that you don't even see what she's doing. You don't even see how she's using you, not because your the bull that rides the wildfire, but for her sick and twisted plan."

Gendry scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving in anger. He had never felt this much anger towards the girl before, yet as her words sunk in, he felt it rise within him. He had to get away from her before he did or said something he regretted. She looked up at him, anger showing in her eyes as well. He pointed his finger at her before his words came out low and dangers.

"You will never speak to me on this matter again, is that understood?"

"I'm not one of your men to command! I'll speak on whatever matter I want," she said, angrily.

He turned away from her, meaning to storm off, but she jumped to her feet to grab his arm. He swung around, inches from her face. "You're just as stubborn as she was, not knowing when to stop! You don't know what you're talking about so just shut up," he growled.

Jerking his arm away from her hold, he began walking away, but her words froze him in his tracks. They came crashing down upon him like raindrops. He could not move, could not think, about anything but what she said.

"Did Lady Stoneheart ever mention that the bracelet you made for Arya went missing right before the that horrible day? Has she ever told you that one of the servant girls took it? No...I don't think she did."

Gendry stared straight ahead, his mind screaming the words Willow had just spoken. He slowly turned towards the girl, his eyes wide in shock and horror. "What...did...you..say," he barely was able to speak.

"The other day, I went looking for you and I overheard her telling Harwin that the bracelet was stolen two days before the wedding. She said that Arya was so distraught that it made her sick. When it came time for the wedding to take place, Arya had caught a fever and stayed in bed. I—I meant to tell you as soon as I found out, but you were leaving for the Twins and wouldn't talk to me. If she would not tell you about that...what other things is she not telling you?"

Gendry could do nothing but stare as the weight of the girl's words hit him. No, Lady Stoneheart had not told him that bit of information. How could she have kept that from him? HOW! His rage took over, dripping from his eyes. Willow saw it, and stumbled towards him.

"Breathe, Gendry," she calmly said.

He had not noticed that he had stopped breathing and took a long deep breath. It did nothing to calm his beating heart, or the fiery rage that made him want to tear the whole forest to the ground. He began walking backwards, away from the girl, so terrified that she would be in the way when he exploded. When she came at him again, he held his hands up for her to stop.

"Don't," he was able to get out of his parched mouth.

He turned on his heels, storming through the large camp that was the Brotherhood now. Ten's of thousands of men mulled around, building tents and shelters, but as they saw their leader coming, they stopped and saluted. He passed them all without a second glance, heading towards the place he knew Lady Stoneheart would be. He was correct in his assumption, for he spotted her talking with Harwin and several men. He zoned in on her, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed the woman and shoved her into the forge wall. She did not look stunned, nor did she look angry. Her dead eyes stared into his angry ones, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Gendry, what are you doing!" Harwin bellowed.

He ignored the man, for the only person that mattered in that moment was Lady Stoneheart. "Why didn't you tell me?" he ground out.

"Be more specific," she said, a note of humor in her words.

It only added fuel to his out of control wildfire. "You know of what I speak of! Why didn't you tell me about the bracelet!" he yelled at her.

Her eyes grew dark, the humor evaporating. "What of the bracelet?"

"Why didn't you tell me it was stolen," he ground out through clench teeth.

"Would it have made a difference? No! Yes, the bracelet was stolen by a stupid servant girl, but it changes nothing!" Lady Stoneheart shot back.

"IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!" Gendry roared.

He thought of the charred body he had held, thought of the face he could not see anymore. Could it be possible, even just a little bit, that it was not Arya he found on that day? Could it be possible that the body he thought to be Arya's was the servant girl? If she had stolen the bracelet, would she not have been wearing it on the day of the wedding? Would Lord Frey not have made it look as though he had killed Arya as well, when it fact, she could have escaped? The thought was too much for Gendry to bear, and he released Lady Stoneheart, stumbling backwards as if she had struck him.

"Tell me everything!" he demanded of her.

"It will not change anything, Gendry! She was in the room with hundreds of Frey men when Robb and I were murdered! She could not have possibly..."

"TELL ME EVERYTHING!" he boomed.

For the first time that he could remember, Lady Stoneheart looked scared. She eyed him warily, seeing his rage as he had never shown it before.

"Right before the wedding, Arya woke up screaming. Robb and I rushed into her room right as she attacked one of the servant girls, screaming that the girl had stolen the bracelet you made for her. Robb was able to get her off the girl, and had the girl removed from the room. He commanded his men to search for the bracelet, but they could not find it. They locked the girl in the cell, so they could ask her questions. By the time Robb made it to the girl, she was dead. She had hung herself, but the bracelet wasn't on her. Right after that, Arya came down with a fever. Robb and I put her in bed and there she stayed, until my final breaths. But understand this, Gendry, she was there, no matter how you want to twist things around. Arya was surrounded by men that wanted to kill her and kill her they did."

"How could you not have told me," he breathed.

"Because I knew it would give you false hope," she answered. "I knew it would only break your heart in the end when you understood that it didn't matter, because in the end, Arya would still be dead. I didn't tell you for the sole purpose of what I see now. I see the hope building in your eyes, for you think there is a chance she escaped!"

Gendry could not deny it. The moment Willow had uttered her words, something began to grow through his rage. In that moment, he began to wonder if the charred body he held in his arms that day was Arya, or was it someone else. Could it be possible that she had found some way to escape? If so, why had she not come to him? Why was she not here now? Nymeria walked towards him, her head lightly hitting his side. He looked down at the direwolf as he thought back on her howls months ago. What had caused the direwolf such pain that night? He had not been able to forget it, wondering what had happened this time.

Gendry dropped to his knees, staring the direwolf in the eyes. She never looked away from him, but stared back. He wanted to communicate with her, wanted to understand what she knew and he didn't. What had caused her to howl in pain that night? He knew she had felt the slaughter of Robb and the others, could still see her withering in pain the forest, yet she had done it again only months later. Why?

"Where is she, Nymeria," he asked, almost too afraid to speak the words.

"Gendry, do not do this," Lady Stoneheart croaked.

He ignored her, staring at the direwolf. He waited, for what he wasn't sure, but he waited for something. Nymeria continued to stare. Her eyes filled his vision. He lost himself in the moment, in staring at the direwolf's eyes, until something began to swim in the pools of her keen sight.

"Show me," he whispered, forgetting all that gathered around to watch.

Suddenly, something began to glow in the direwolf's eyes. He was not sure if it was his imagination, but he dared not look away. In that moment, a face began to take shape. He watched it as it grew, until he recognized the face as well as he would recognize his own. She was looking at him, the wind whipping her shoulder-length hair back. The last time he had seen Arya, her hair was shorter than this, yet now it reached passed her shoulders.

Gendry stumbled back, as if the direwolf had tried to strike him. His eyes were wide, yet could see nothing but Arya's beautiful face in Nymeria's eyes. She was there, breathing and alive. He half moaned, half choked on the sob that rose within his throat.

"Gendry, enough of this!" Lady Stoneheart demanded.

Her words could not penetrate past what he was seeing, what he was feeling. Arya was there, looking older and more tired than he remembered. It was not a memory, nor was it his imagination. He could feel it within every part of his body. Arya...was...alive!

"Gods be good," he breathed.

Nymeria raised her head to the sky and began to howl. He knew she had felt Arya's presence as well. He scrambled towards the direwolf, throwing his arms around her neck. She continued to howl, yet he began to laugh. Tears gathered in his eyes, blurring his vision. But he continued to laugh.

He was on his feet before he could think. His men scrambled out of his way as he headed towards his horse. Nymeria followed him.

"Ser Gendry, where are you going?" one of the men called to him.

He stopped, not sure exactly where to start. He turned towards his men, most of them watching with wary looks. He could not do this alone, for there was much ground to be covered. Lady Stoneheart stood amongst the men, her face showing her anger. "This is a fool's search," she heaved.

"Then let me be a fool," he shot back. Turning away from her angry, dead eyes, he spoke loud and clear to his men. "I have asked you all to follow me into battle, into death! I now ask you to follow me down the road of life! Arya Stark may very well be alive and if she is, I will not stop until I find her! Ride with me men! Ride with me, until every part of Westeros has been searched!"

At once, the men flew to their horses without question. If they would follow him into death, why would they not follow him into life? He pulled himself atop his horse, but before he could ride away, Lady Stoneheart grabbed his reigns.

"This is folly, Gendry! This road will lead you to nothing but pain and torture. I have not given you all of these men to be wasted on such lunacy! We must make those that killed pay! Arya is dead, just as Robb, Nedd and all of my family are dead! Stop this at once!" she seethed.

"You may have given me these men, Lady Stoneheart, but I have kept them here. She is alive, I can feel it, and I will find her if it is the last thing I do," Gendry whispered.

He yanked the reigns from Lady Stoneheart's hands and turned his back on her. As he rode, full-force, down the long road, his men behind him, he could hear her screaming for him to come back. All the while, he wondered if Willow had been telling him the truth about her. If she was truly still Arya's mother, she would have been on a horse right beside him. Did she not care since death was not his agenda? Did she not care her daughter could very well be alive? No, he did not think she did, for all she was consumed with was death, just as he had been consumed with death. But now, oh gods now, he felt something stir within him, something he had not felt in months. Gendry felt the hands of hope reaching out to him.

Chapter 29: Three Years Later and Home Awaits

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya walked through the streets of Braavos without a care in the world, although she had just sentenced a man to his death. Replacing one of the man's coins with her poisonous one had been her idea from the beginning. Jaqen had drilled her on the cons of such a plan, but it had worked to perfection. Soon, the man's heart would give out making it look as if the god of Death had chosen that time to come and claim him.

At the age of eight and ten, Arya had grown into a fierce woman. Her childish body had given way to womanly curves. Her face was thin, yet her cheekbones were perfectly defined. Her dark hair had grown down her back, falling in a wavy curl. All the men that looked upon her true face found her to be beautiful, though she did not see them looking. She had no time for such trivial thoughts.

Someone stepped up beside her, but she did not flinch. After working side by side with him for three years, she knew him better than anyone else. He walked close to her, yet not close enough to make people assume they were together. Arya put her hands in the jacket pocket of her long, black coat and placed a small smile on her face. She looked as though she were taking a stroll, instead of just killing someone. She had learned to hide her true emotions well, actually changing everything about her. They called her No One, for that was the name she had chosen for herself. The years had blown her memories away, as if they were cobwebs suspended in the air. She remembered nothing but her life in the House of Black and White. It had taken a year of meditation and mind tricks, which the kindly man had contributed to, but finally they had been successful. The moment she totally surrendered the person who she used to be, the kindly man began using her for bigger jobs, though she never went without Jaqen.

They climbed the hill to the temple. Upon entering, Arya walked pass the ones who lay dying or dead without so much as a glance. Death had become her life, and she was not easily moved by the pain and suffering of others. The kindly man was standing at the stairway leading to her room as she and Jaqen came towards him. She nodded her head once, signaling that her job was done.

"A word, No One," he said, his eyes moving towards Jaqen, "Alone."

At first, he seemed to not want to leave, but as she turned to look at him, he began walking away. By the way he walked, she could tell that he was put out by not being involved in their discussion.

"Follow me," the kindly man commanded.

She did as she was told, as she always did. He led her towards the darkened room where the Guild of Faceless Men met to discuss their assignments. When she entered, and found the room empty, her intrest was peaked. He had never wanted to talk with her one on one. He pointed to a chair, and she sat down, waiting for him to tell her why he had brought her here.

"You have been in the service of the faceless men for three years now. You have proven yourself time and time again. Is it still your desire to join us, child?"

"Yes, of course," she answered truthfully.

"We do not take many women, for they are the givers of life and we serve the god of Death, yet I find something in you that I like, that I admire. You have courage beyond your years, and have done all that has been asked of you."

"But..." she said, feeling there was something he was holding back.

"But there is one final test you must pass before you are truly one of the faceless men. This job will be the hardest you have faced yet, though I feel I will be sending the right assassion for the job. You complete your assignment and when you return, we will will welcome you back as a sister."

"And this assignment?" she asked.

"You will travel to Westeros come the morning. A ship has already been bought and paid for. If you choose this asignment, you will board it at dawn."

"And my target?"

For a moment, the kindly man did not answer. She wondered what would hold his tongue, what would make him grow quiet. "Your target will be the bastard son of the dead King Robert Baratheon," he finally said.

Her forehead wrinkled, for the name stirred something within her, though it was gone as easily as it came. "A bastard son of a king? They must have paid heavily for it."

"It is not your place to discuss payment, No One. We do not judge those who seek our service, nor do we judge the life we seek to end. It is the god of Death's place to judge all.

"Of course, my apologies," she answered, low.

Several moments went by as she mulled over his words. So, someone wanted to kill the bastard son of a dead king.

"You can say no if you like, No One. Do you know the bastard son of the king we are discussing?" the kindly man asked.

"No," she answerd.

"Do you accept this assignment?"

"Yes," she said without hesitating.

This was her moment, her chance to prove she had what it took to be a faceless man. She was just as good as the others, better when compared to some.

"He will be heavily guarded, understand that. Behind him, rides fourty thousand men, most of which would cut you down if you so much as look at him wrong. I thought of sending more than just you, but I fear that a group would spook his men. He would take kinder to a young girl I think. When the ships pull ashore, you will make your way towards the Riverlands. It is there that he and his men have built their home. You will go to the Inn at the Crossroads, and there you will wait for him. It is said that he often visits there when he is home."

She was nodding her head at everything he was saying, soaking it in to her mind as to not forget a thing. There was something familiar about this Riverland. Something very familiar about the Inn at the Crossroads. She pushed her mind, thinking on in, but the walls that the kindly man had helped her to build stood in her way. For the life of her, she could not shake the nagging feeling that set in, nor could she break through her walls.

"Go, get some rest, child. You will need it come the morning," he said softly.

She raised from her chair and walked away, feeling a sudden dread fall upon her.

"One more thing," he called to her. "You will know to whom you seek, for they call him the Bull that rides the wildfire."

She walked slowly to her room, pondering on the name the kindly man had just given her. He sounded powerful, but she figured with fourty thousand men he would have to be powerful. She could not shake the dread, could not shake the feeling that she was forgetting something. So caught up in her thoughts, she did not hear Jaqen coming up behind her.

"A girl should not do what the man is asking her," he said low.

She whirled around, her eyes growing wide for a moment in her surprise. "How did you know?" she asked.

"A man hears things through walls," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned, walking towards the outside, but he took her hand in his, leading her towards his room. She had been in the room many times, almost feeling as if it were her room as well. Jaqen was acting strange, and it was making her feel uncomfortable. He had always been cool and calm, never letting his feelings show, but now he just looked angry.

He made her to sit on his bed as he paced in front of her. "A girl should stay here where she belongs."

"If I do this, I become a true faceless man, Jaqen."

"If the girl does this, she will not return," he said, turning his eyes towards her. They bore in to her, making her shift in discomfort.

"This is where I belong."

Jaqen sat down beside her, his eyes still boring in to her. "A man had selfish reasons for bringing the girl here," he whispered. "A man has selfish reasons for keeping the girl here. Do not do this, please. Another opportunity will arise where the girl can prove herself worthy. This is not the time."

"I'm going Jaqen," leaving no room for argument. He would not tell her what to do. He should have known that by now. Slowly, he reached his hand towards her face, his palm gently caressing her cheek. "A man needs the girl more than the girl will ever know." His face inched slowly towards her. His eyes became hooded in his lust. His scent surrounded her, overpowering her senses. She opened her mouth slightly, unable to breathe.

Jaqen's lips were inches away from her own when he suddenly froze. His hooded eyes opened wide, the lust completely gone from them. He snapped his eyes towards her, seeing the anger within them. Slowly, he began to lean away from her and as he did, she allowed the blade she held against his stomach to go with him.

"Do not ever try that again," she purred.

"A girl is heartless," Jaqen spat.

"A girl has no need in what you want to offer her," she said, climbing from the bed. She stood to leave, but his furious voice stopped her. "You think you will be free of me, girl? You think a man does not know how to hunt you down if you do not return? Mark the man's words, I will never eat, never sleep, until you have returned back here to me!"

She smiled, though her smile carried no warmth or amusement. "You can not threaten me, Jaqen. Your threats hold on sway over me. I've been with you too long. I will come and go as I please, and you will do nothing about it. I will go to Westeros and I will return, but not for you. You have been a calming presence in my life, but do not think for a moment you will be anything else.

"You owe the man a name, girl. For that, the man will never be out of your life. I will own the girl," he whispered.

She shook her head, wishing it did not have to come to this. She wished he would not push her, but he was just like her, stubborn and uncaring. She walked slowly towards him, laying her hands on his shoulders. He seemed to calm at this, grabbing her by the waist. When he tried to pull her closer, she stopped him. Instead, she leaned down to his ear, whispering softly. "I give to the gods, Jaqen H'ghar's name."

The hands holding her side began to squeeze painfully, yet she smiled through it. "The gods will not be mocked," Jaqen hissed.

She leaned down, coming within inches of his lips. "I wasn't mocking the gods. My third name is Jaqen H'ghar." She tore his hands away from her waist and turned her back.

"A man has been a friend and stayed by the girl's side! TAKE IT BACK! he roared.

She stopped at the door, keeping her back to him for a few seconds. Reaching into her pocket, she brought out a small needle. It had been the one Jaqen had used in her first assignment. She held it carefully, for the tip held a poison so deadly it took only seconds to kill its victim.

"I have no friends," she whispered. "How can a person who is no one have anyone to call a friend? Though I am quite fond of our time together. It is the only reason I give you a quick death in this needle."

"A man hopes that bastard boy kills the girl. It will be perfect justice for this transgression," he seethed.

She chuckled lightly, finally turning to look at him. "My how your fondness turns so fast," she said, mocking him.

"Take back the man's name!" he snarled.

"I will see you in the seven hells soon, Jaqen." She swung the door opened and walked out. Behind her, Jaqen was still screaming at her to take back his name as she slowly closed his door, sealing him inside with the deadly needle. The moment he disappeared from her vision, he disappeared from her mind. It had been a technique that the kindly man had taught her. It allowed her to stab Jaqen in the back, the only person who ever gave her the time of day in this place.

She laid down in her bed, never fearful that he would come and kill her in the night. Jaqen took his beliefs to heart, and when she had spoken his name, she had sentenced him to his death. He would not mock the gods with his refusal. But she would mock the gods as many times as she could. Her eyes closed, sending her into a dream, the first she had had in years.

She was running through the forest, the wind whipping at her back. In front of her was a man. He slowed, until coming to a stop, and then looking around him. Slowly, he bent down, rubbing her head. She looked up at him, his face sad. He was staring at her, his lips trembling.

"I know she's still alive. I just know it," he whispered. "I feel it inside me."

He stood back up, walking a little ways ahead, but she stayed put and watched. He began pacing, grabbing a head full of his thick, black hair. "I can bring down the most powerful men in the land! I can gather an army with just the sound of my voice! I can have forty thousand men screaming for me to be upon the iron throne, but I can't even find one girl!

He turned back to her, and walked towards her slowly. He knelt down before her, his eyes showing his pain. "Is she really dead, girl? Have I been chasing a ghost?"

He bowed his head, letting out a shuttered breath. She whined, bringing his face back up to look at her. He moaned softly, shaking his head.

"It's time to go home, Nymeria. It's time to go home," he whispered.

Her eyes opened as she shot up in bed. Looking around in the darkness, it took her mind a moment to realize it had been a dream. It had been so long since she had dreamed that she had forgotten what it felt like, yet this dream felt so real. The last words the man had said echoed in her head.

It's time to go home, Nymeria. It's time to go home, he whispered in her ear.

"Nymeria," she said out loud, feeling the name on her lips. That familiar feeling came rushing forward again. Something was right there, right on the surface of her memory, but she could not reach it. She could not open the box to look inside.

Her door swung open, breaking her out of her thoughts. She swung her head around, expecting Jaqen, but it was the kindly man. "It is just before dawn. The girl needs to rise and come with me. You do not have much time before the ship sets sail."

She stood from her bed, not worrying about dressing. She wore a thin nightgown, but she knew the kindly man would give her clothing. She followed him down the darkened hallway, past Jaqen's room. For the briefest of moments, she thought about opening his door to see if he was dead, but she decided against it. She did not want to know, for it was not her problem anymore.

He took her to the room of many faces. Hanging on the walls, were thousands of them. It would be one of these faces that she would wear to Westeros. After studying each one, she chose the face of an ugly, broken girl who had been beaten by her father.

"A wise choice. The bastard son of King Robert will take kindly to you if he thinks you are in need. The one that has come to contract with us has paid a heavy price. See that the job is done and swiftly. Once you have disposed of the man, the faceless men will be waiting here in the temple to welcome you home."

she slipped into the face, hiding her beauty within by covering it with the ugliness of the broken girl. Once the face was sealed in place, she became someone else. No longer no one, but the broken girl. She turned from the kindly man, turned from the temple, and made her way towards the ship. She left all her possessions, all except the small sword she had kept with her at all times. With the sword, she would cut her way to the bastard boy if she had to. One thing was for sure, she would succeed, for she had never failed before.

The entire journey to Westeros she spent trying to find the voice to match the face. She practiced how to sit, how to stand and how to walk. She hunched her shoulders, drawing in to herself. Her voice was meek and timid, completely opposite from what she was used to, but she was beginning to get used to it. By the time the ship docked, she had become a completely different person. She had become the meek, scared girl who had run away from her abusive father. She even learned to cry.

She conned a man into taking her all the way to the Riverlands. She had done it so perfectly, he did not even realize what was happening. For days they traveled. When he asked her questions, she answered in a shy, meek voice. When he tried to get too friendly with her, she shoved the sword into his belly and continued the journey on her own, hiding his body so well he would never be found. The stupid man never saw it coming. She grabbed the reigns, continuing on.

By day, she traveled. Few people passed her, and every one gave her the same warning. "Beware of the Bull who rides the wildfire." Everyone said the same thing, until she began to repeat it to people passing by. Who is this man that people fear him so, she wondered? By night, she slept under the clear sky, watching the stars as they drifted above her. She took comfort in the sounds of the forest. The familiar feeling within her continued to grow, until it burned like fire. Days into her travel, she realized she had been here before. The knowledge of that hit her hard, yet she did not let it take her over. She swept it under her barriers, choosing to use her strength to grow her character. She practiced the right way to talk, the right way to speak without looking into someone's eyes. She learned to be submissive.

Finally, the day came when she made it to the Inn at the Crossroads. She delivered her horse to the stable and walked towards the large building. Inside, she could hear the sounds of music and children's laughter. What an odd place for the man they called the Bull who rides the wildfire to frequent, she thought.

The moment she opened the door, the sounds assaulted her. She slipped in, unnoticed, for there was dancing and singing going on throughout the room. The mood was light and cheerful, something she did not expect. She spotted the bar and made her way over towards it. A pretty girl, a few years older than she, was serving the men ale. She sat down, drawing in to herself as much as she could. The girl eyed her for a few seconds, and then made her way over.

"Hi," the girl said warmly.

"Hello," she answered, softly.

"A—Are you okay?" the girl asked her.

For a moment, she didn't answer. "I'm fine...now," she said, her voice cracking perfectly where it should have. The girl turned around, grabbing a cup and filling it with the ale. She sat it down in front of her. She picked it up, taking large gulps. She had been so thirsty. The girl smiled sweetly at her when she sat the cup down. Without her having to ask, the girl filled it again.

"Are you hungry?" the girl asked. "We have the best pie maker in the land."

"Sounds wonderful," she purred.

"Hot Pie, we have a request for one of your famous pies," the girl yelled.

She looked over to where the girl was looking as someone stood from one of the tables. He was facing away from her, but when he turned, her breath hitched. She turned away from him, staring before her and wondering why she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. The hand that reached out towards her drink was shaking and she knocked it over. The girl was there, immediately, cleaning up the mess.

"There you go, ma'am. You will not find a better pie this side of the Riverlands!" the boy said, laying the pie in front of her. She could do nothing but stare as a voice spoke in her mind.

"Hot Pie!" she heard a voice scream.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had to focus, needed to have a clear head if she was to do this. If the boy would step away from her for a few moments, she could think straight. Instead, he stood close to her, waiting for her to take a bite of his pie. As calmly as she could, she took a bite of the pie, which she had to admit was very good. It melted in her mouth, causing her to close her eyes for a moment in enjoyment of the flavors.

"Told you," the boy said proudly.

She ate the pie as the girl and boy began a conversation. For a moment, she was completely forgotten, which was good, because it gave her a chance to relax. It was easier said than done as she continued listening to the boy.

"Where's Willow?" he asked the girl.

"Where do you think," the girl said chuckling. "She's waiting for him to return."

"Oh yeah, he's coming back today, isn't he?"

The girl nodded her head. She noticed how the girl's pretty face turned sad. When they made eye contact, she smiled at the girl. The girl returned her smile, but it never quite reached her eyes. "Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"A room, if you have one," she asked softly.

"We have one. It will be yours as long as you need it," she said, kindly. "What's your name?"

She had thought a lot about what her name would be. Nothing quite felt right. In that moment, she decided on the first name that came to her mind. It just floated there, like the wind. "Beth," she answered. Beside her, she felt the boy flinch, as if she had poked him. She chanced a glance and saw him openly staring at her.

"That's a very pretty name," he whispered.

She never got the feeling he was flirting or overstepping his bounds. One moment, she saw tears in his eyes, but the next they were gone. When he had said it was pretty name, he had meant nothing but that. For a fearful moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake, but he looked away from her, choosing to talk to the girl again as if nothing had happened.

"Welcome to the Crossroads Inn, Beth. You are welcome to stay as long as you need," the girl told her.

"Thank you," she answered softly.

Outside the inn, there came the sound of many horses. Both the boy and girl looked at one another, a smile breaking out on their faces. "Looks like the king has returned," Hot Pie said, his voice playful.

"So it seems. I'll get his cup ready," the girl said, turning away from them.

The doors of the inn opened as a loud sound of voices drifted towards her. The boy turned, chuckling softly. He walked away from her, greeting someone with a clasp on the back. It echoed in her ears as loudly as the voices.

"Did you find anything?" the boy asked.

There was a deep sigh and then a voice that sent goose bumps down her flesh. "Nothing, but I'm not giving up."

She closed her eyes, allowing the voice to play in her mind over and over again, awaking something within her that had long been dead. Without her approval, her body began to turn in her seat. When she looked up, she found eyes staring at her, eyes as blue as the oceans on which she knew they were made from.

Chapter 30: Truth is in the Eye of the Beholder

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

You and me.

The words drifted through her mind in a silent whisper. They played over and over like a broken record. She continued staring, finding it hard to turn away. He was staring back. Hot Pie was calling his name, yet he was too caught up in watching her to listen to the boy. She forced her eyes away from his blue ones. She forced her body to turn, though it took all of her strength to pull it off.

Slowly, she turned back in her seat, bowing her head and taking a long, deep breath to calm her pulsing heartbeat. Her hands shook as they held her cup. She breathed through her nose and out of her mouth, clearing the words in her head. She could feel his presence behind her, surrounding her. It was as if he were standing so close to her. What was happening to her? She continued concentrating on breathing, continued concentrating on clearing her mind. It seemed her techniques weren't working very well for her.

"Who are you?" someone asked behind her.

She didn't turn around, though she knew the question was directed at her. She didn't think she could face those blue eyes again, but she knew if she didn't turn around and answer it would look suspicious. Calm down, No One, you can do this. You're an assassin for the gods sake, she chided herself.

Taking one final breath, she turned to face the four people watching her. They were standing side by side, their eyes looking straight at her. For a moment, she decided not to look at the man with the blue eyes, but then decided against it. Not looking at him might cause suspicion. She feigned shyness as she looked at each of them trying her hardest not to linger on the last face. The one who had spoken stood beside the man with blue eyes. It was a girl, about the age of two and ten.

"Willow, don't start," the girl that served her ale warned.

The girl, Willow, took a step towards her, her eyes boring in to her. "I know everyone that walks into this establishment, but I don't know you. I've never seen you here before. What's your name?"

The man with the blue eyes reached out and thumped her on the shoulder. "Be nice," he warned.

The girl turned to look at him, her eyes growing wide. "What?" she asked with a shrug of her shoulders. "Gendry, you're an important person now. We can't have just anyone popping up here."

She did not realize how hard she was squeezing her cup, until the man with the blue eyes began staring at her hand. She snapped her eyes down, seeing her knuckles had grown completely white. She eased her hold, keeping her face unreadable. The moment his name was spoken, her stomach did a flip. The walls within her mind shuttered for a brief moment, but righted themselves. The girl said he was important. The men stood closely, yet gave him his space. She knew in an instant this was her target.

Her jaw clenched in that knowledge. She looked at her surroundings, finding every exit. There was the front exit, yet it was congested with troops. She would have to fight her way through fifty men to get to the back door. Her sword sat hidden at her side, but would she be swift enough to strike the man with the blue eyes down and get out before being killed herself? Her odds weren't that good.

His name is Gendry. Say his name, No One, a voice whispered in her ear.

No, she wouldn't say his name, for by saying his name she made him a human being. It made it personal. Instead, she would think of him as the man with blue eyes, eyes so deep she could get lost in them. She chided herself when that thought filled her mind.

"I—I'm Beth," she said meekly.

"Where are you from?" the girl, Willow, asked. The girl took another step towards her. She had to calm her anger, for it was beginning to rise. It would take nothing for her to reach out and snap the girl's neck in two. She would be able to do it before anyone could blink. She continued with her breathing technique as she drew further into herself.

"Stop interrogating everyone who walks in here that you don't know," the boy with the blue eyes said irritably.

"Well excuse me, Gendry! Looks like I'm the only one who cares about your safety," she said, giving the other men pointed looks. "I mean, no offense, lady, but you could be anyone."

No, I'm No One, she thought.

"She's a guest, Willow, so just back off!" Jeyne said.

The girl turned on the older girl, her eyes growing angry. "You want me to just back off? And when one of those assissans come in here to kill Gendry, or one of us, I will say I told you so!"

Her words hit too close to home, causing the anger to soar, so much so that she felt her hand drift towards the hidden sword. When she realized what she was about to do, No One stopped her movements, balling her hand into a fist. She had to get out of here, had to calm down, before she murdered everyone in the inn, including herself.

Slowly, she stood from her seat and turned to leave. "You don't have to go. Please, forgive my sister. She's a little on the deluded side," Jeyne said, her eyes cutting to the younger girl. No One wanted to tell the girl that Willow was the smartest person in the room, but she chose to walk instead. With her head bowed, she passed by the man with the blue eyes. His scent hit her square in the face, causing her to stagger for a moment. She caught herself on one of the tables. The men sitting around the table looked up at her, as if she had bumped them instead. She kept her head down, whispering an apology, and continued towards the door.

The moment she reached outside, she sucked in a large breath of air. What in the seven hells was happening to her. Never before had she been this distracted while on assignment, yet it felt as if she could not breathe properly. It felt as if she could not think. Making sure no one was around, she ran for the cover of the forest. Her head began to pound so hard it was deafening. The walls within her mind were shaking, as if trying to shatter, yet she fought against it. Panic grew within her, so strong she felt as if she were drowning in it. His eyes, those blue oceans, were seared into her brain.

No One staggered towards a tree, catching herself before she could fall to the ground. Slamming her eyes closed, she slowed her breathing, which had sped up at a startling rate. His smell was still in her nose. Every breath she took, she could smell him.

"Stop it! Stop it right now! You are an assassin. Act like it!" she hissed.

Finally, her heart rate began to settle, her breathing evening out. For a moment, she wondered if this had been a mistake. Maybe the kindly man should have sent more than just her, or maybe even someone else entirely, but she knew there was no turning back. Some how she would have to shake off whatever was happening to her.

"Are you alright?" said a voice behind her.

At the sound of his voice, her heart began to speed up again, her breath hitching. "Gods," she whispered.

She turned towards him, deciding to throw caution to the wind and keep her eyes from meeting his. She focused on his Adam's apple instead. "I'm fine. It's just being in a room full of people does not settle well with me," she said softly, playing the part of the ugly, broken girl.

He chuckled softly, like music to her ears. "I know the feeling."

"I'm Gendry by the way," he said after a few moments of silence.

Behind him, there was movement. Four of his men came in to view, watching her closely. She dropped her eyes, taking a step back, as if the men made her nervous. In truth, she could slaughter all four of the men and still have time to take out the man with the blue eyes before he knew what hit him. Maybe this was her chance, but his next words caught her off guard.

"Men, you can go. I won't be needed anything at the moment." His voice was firm, his words leaving no room for argument. They bowed to him, yet he did not see them, because he was still watching her. He was in more danger in that moment than he could imagine. She watched the men walking away, watched them leaving their leader with the person sent to murder him. Men could be so naive sometimes. They thought they were superior to women, but they had never met one like her.

"I want to apologize for Willow. She means well, but sometimes she doesn't think before she speaks."

"I understand," she responded.

He began walking towards her, and before she could stop herself, she took a step back. He stilled instantly. Her eyes moved to his without her permission, and she saw sadness looking back at her. They stared at one another, for she could not make herself look away once her eyes met his.

"Who hurt you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"My father," she answered without thought.

No One wondered if he had the gift of magic, for she was acting as she had never acted before. She was allowing herself to be pulled in by him. She was allowing herself to see him more than just a target. No One knew better than this, had been taught better.

"As long as you are here, he will not hurt you again."

His words were so firm, so convincing, that she could not think of anything to say in return. She watched him watching her. He was quite handsome. His skin had been kissed by the sun, dark and tanned. His thick, black hair fell almost to his eyes. Underneath his shirt, she could tell he had muscle.

You and me. The words floated in her head again.

The sounds of the forest floated around them, for neither one could find the words to speak. He was looking at her so intently that she felt self-conscious, as if he could see beneath the disguise.

"You said your name was Beth?" he finally said.

She nodded her head, fearing to speak. Again, he took another step towards her, and she forced herself to stay in place. No One realized that there wasn't anyone around. It would be the perfect time to strike him down. She had the forest at her back, and she could get lost as easily as any animal. His men would never be able to find her.

Her eyes roamed around them, trying to find the best place to escape. The man with the blue eyes continued his movements towards her. Her hand began to move to her side, reaching for the sword. Just a few more steps, and he would be in striking distance. Her blood began to pump faster, filling her body with the adrenaline she needed. It caused her mind to focus, caused the fuzziness to fade away. He did not seem to notice her hand moving, and if he did, he did not let on. It disappeared underneath the back of her shirt when a voice called out.

"Ser Gendry, a group of men are here to see you. They say they want to join up with the Brotherhood."

He turned towards the man speaking to him, breaking their stare. No One slowly removed her hand from the hilt of her sword, cursing in her head. She had been so close. He turned back towards her. "Excuse me, Beth. Make yourself at home around here. Anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."

With that, he turned from her and walked away. When he was out of sight, she turned towards the tree and kicked it hard. The pain shot through her foot, darkening her already darkened mood. She was failing miserably at her assignment, and all she could hear in her mind was Jaqen H'ghar's laughter.

Days went by and she did not even get a glimpse of the man. It was as if he had turned into a phantom. Most of the time, when she wasn't out looking for her target, she stayed in her room. She would sit on the bed in the darkened room, just staring at the wall. She would plan her move, see her attack in her mind. She would stare into the mirror, at the face of the ugly, broken girl, and practice her facial expressions, until she had it down to perfection. She would not allow the man with the blue eyes to affect her like he had before. This time, when the right time came, she would strike him down.

On the forth day, she decided it was time to go searching for him. She searched every corner of the camp, but he was no where to be found. Had he left? She hoped not. The sooner she finished this, the quicker she could get back to Braavos. The time she spent in her room had cleared her head, but it did little to calm her anger. She was angry with herself and her weakness towards the man with the blue eyes. She reminded herself that if he knew of her plans to kill him, he would kill her first. That helped to steer her on the right path again. Kill or be killed, she had thought.

She heard a loud noise coming from a large building in the center of the Brotherhood's camp. She stared at the building, feeling a sense of familiarity. She closed her eyes, feeling her heart matching the sound coming from within. Her feet began to move on their own, until she stood at the door of a forge. In front of her, she saw the man with the blue eyes. He had not noticed her, too caught up in his work. His chest was bare, the sweat glistening on his muscles. No One felt her breath hitch at the sight of him. It seemed she needed more time in the darkened room, for her head was becoming fuzzy again. She turned to leave, but he called out to her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Hey."

She closed her eyes, cursing herself. Slowly, she turned back to him, putting on her mask of meekness. She walked completely into the forge, coming to stand before him. His arm came up, wiping the sweat off his brow. The muscles underneath his skin moved with the effort, causing her heart to skip.

"What is a king doing fixing his own armor?" she asked without thinking. It seemed the man with the blue eyes caused her to lose control of her tongue as well.

He chuckled, and she could not help to like the sound of it. "First of all, I am no king. Secondly, I am first and foremost a blacksmith. This place," he said, pointing around them, "is the only place that I feel like myself."

"So, out there, you're someone else?" she asked.

"Yeah, sort of. I am what my men think me to be," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"But what do you want to be?" She was desperately trying to make herself stop talking, but her words came tumbling from her mouth, and she was powerless to stop it.

His eyes went distant, the easy look he wore earlier vanished. "I don't even know anymore."

They didn't speak for a few moments. No One needed to leave, she knew, but her leg wouldn't work. She was frozen to the spot, frozen in his blue eyes. You and me, the voice whispered again.

As soon as she heard those words that tortured her, her feet moved. She turned abruptly, meaning to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her from going. She saw it from the corner of her eyes, and her instincts kicked in before she could stop and think . As soon as his hand touched her arm, she whirled on him, kicking her foot out and sending him sprawling to the ground.

He looked up at her, his eyes wide with shock. She looked down at him, her eyes full of anger. She would not let anyone touch her, especially this man. He was already causing enough problems within her that she needed no other contact from him. This time, she was able to make herself turn and storm out of the forge, leaving him on his back to stare at her retreating body.

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That night, Gendry sat outside the forge in the shadows. He had thought about the girl since she had put him on his back. To say he was surprised by her strength would have been an understatement. She had been so meek, so drawn in to herself, that he had looked upon her like an injured bird. Now, he wasn't quite sure what to think of her. Perhaps, she had to grow strong to handle her lot in life. By the healing bruises and swelling on her face, he could tell she had had a horrible life. She had told him that her father had been the one to hurt her. His protective instincts had reared their heads at that bit of information. When he had promised her his protection, he had meant it.

Gendry closed his eyes, leaning his head on the forge's outside wall. When he opened his eyes again, he was staring up at the stars. He felt so tired, so tired of everything. He was tired of the killing and tired of the search for a girl he refused to believe was dead. He was tired of fighting with Lady Stoneheart. So much so, he had sent her away on a mission for him just to be able to breathe. When she returned in a few days, he knew the fighting would start all over again. He was tired of worrying about Willow when he wasn't here to watch over her, and he was tired of seeing that look of sadness in Jeyne's eyes. The girl still carried feelings for him, and he tried to be as gentle with her as possible. There would never be room for anyone in his life after Arya.

"Arya," he whispered to the stars.

Some days, he would say her name just to remind himself that she had been real. After three years, sometimes he would start to think that she had been a figment of his young mind just to get him through the hell that he went through. But it was in the quiet of the night, in the moments when no sound could be heard, that he remembered how he had comforted her in her nightmares. He remembered what she had felt like in his arms, and his heart broke all over again. Some days, he thought it would be better if he could think of her as a figment of his imagination, but his heart would never let him forget.

"Arya, where are you?" he whispered again.

From the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the shadows. Everyone was asleep, or so he thought. He sat perfectly still, watching a shape take form in the darkness. At first, he thought it was Willow, but when the shape came into the moon's light, he saw the broken face of the girl, Beth. She looked around her, as if making sure she wasn't being followed, and then ran towards the woods.

Gendry was on his feet immediately, following her. He walked as silently as he could, dodging around trees when she would stop and look around her. What is she doing, he wondered? A howl pierced the darkness making both him and the girl freeze. Nymeria was close by, coming back from where ever it was that she went at night. He heard the girl gasp and stagger forward. Even in the darkness, he could see how rigid she stood.

Suddenly, ahead of them, he saw a movement of fur. The direwolf came in to view, running faster than he had ever seen her run before. In her path, the girl stood. A loud growl broke from Nymeria's mouth, and the blood drained from Gendry's face. The direwolf's eyes zoned in to the girl heading straight towards her.

"No," he breathed, as he ran from around the tree.

The direwolf would tear her to pieces, not knowing her. Gendry had to get to her first. He opened his mouth to scream Beth's name, but her voice and words froze him with a bone shattering slap.

"Nymeria?" the girl whispered.

Gendry came to a sudden stop, just as Nymeria reached the girl. But the direwolf did not attack. She slowed, until she was just inches from Beth. The girl slowly dropped to the ground, a shaking hand coming out towards the direwolf.

"I know your face," the girl whispered, her emotions evident. "I know your face!" she cried.

Gendry felt as if the world around him was crashing down on top of him. He felt a weight sitting atop his head, felt as if he could not think straight. His heart dropped from his chest to his feet, the color draining from his face. The girl reached out to touch Nymeria, but froze as the direwolf began to growl. She turned, looking around her as if looking to see if she was alone. She did not see Gendry standing behind her. He watched the girl reach up to her face, grabbing her skin just underneath her ears.

What he saw made his eyes pop from their sockets. The girl dug into her skin with a small gasp, and began to rip the skin from her face. Nymeria rose to her full height, her teeth bared and ready to attack. Gendry was frozen, not able to move even to breathe. What he was seeing was unreal, as if he felt it couldn't be happening. Soon, the girl had torn her face completely off. He watched Nymeria's face, for he could not see the girl. The direwolf's head slowly rose. The skin, which was pulled back from her teeth, began to come together. Suddenly, the menacing creature laid down before the girl and began to whimper. She began to crawl the rest of the way towards the girl, her whimpers rising.

The moon came from behind a cloud, shining down on the girl and Nymeria. Her straggly, blond hair had changed to long, black hair. She turned again, making sure no one was around and in that moment, Gendry was able to see a new face before him.

His knees grew weak as he stared into the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Gone was the ugly, broken girl and in her place was someone that took his breath away. He fell to his knees, the air knocked from his body. It took only one look at the girl and Gendry's strength failed him. She reached out to Nymeria, wrapping her arms around the direwolf and crying softly. The sound of her tears caused his mind to explode. The sound of her voice, crying out Nymeria's name, was like a prayer to his ears.

"Arya?" he croaked.

The girl let go of Nymeria, whirling around to stare at him, wide-eyed. She reached up, touching her cheeks and realizing that he was seeing her true face. Gendry could see her so clearly now and the tears were running down his face before he could stop them.

"Arya," he cried her name.

She jumped to her feet, reaching behind her back and drawing out a sword. Acting on instinct alone, he was to his feet again, his own sword drawn. Behind her, Nymeria began to growl again, but he wasn't sure if it was meant for him or the girl. She had changed so much. She was older, her body more womanly. The beauty had remained. She began to walk backwards, away from him and he yelled out to her.

"Wait!"

She stopped, her sword out before her. "I'm going to kill you," she whispered, venom in her voice.

It caught him so off guard that he did not react when she came towards him. Behind him, he could hear the sound of running feet. His men had heard him yell. As slowly as he could, he lowered his sword, until it was lying on the ground before him. He raised his hands, showing her he meant her no harm.

"There's no reason to want to kill me. I just want to talk," he said, calmer than he felt.

"There will be no talking, only you dead at my feet," she hissed.

Doubt crept into his mind, though she looked so much like Arya. Could it be true? Could it be her? She took another step towards him, her eyes filled with hate and contempt. "You've seen my true face now. There's no way I can let you live," she whispered.

"What's your name?" he asked her desperately.

"Shut up!" she hissed, though he heard her voice crack.

"What is your name!" he said fiercely. Please, say it is Arya. Please, dear gods, say it is Arya.

"Ser Gendry!" his men yelled behind him, but he could not look away from the absolute beauty before him. She had her eyes, had her long face, even the hair, though it was longer, was hers. The only thing that made him wonder was the look in her eyes. He did not recognize the look.

His men cam running up behind him. The moment they saw the girl with her sword in hand, they unsheathed their own swords. Gendry was quick to act, stepping in front of them and the girl. His hands were raised before the men and the girl, stopping their movements.

"Put your swords down!" he screamed at his men, fearful they would try to kill the girl before he could talk to her.

He turned towards the girl, his face pleading. "Put your sword down," he said softer.

None of them did as he asked, for the men saw him in danger, while the girl wanted him dead. The girl was shaking, tears running down her face, and all he wanted to do was hold her.

"Please, I beg you, tell me your name," he whispered desperately.

"I have no name," the girl seethed. "And you will have not a breath in your body when I am through with you!"

With that, and to his horror, she charged towards him. On his other side, his men began to charge as well. He was caught in the middle, yet he chose to watch the girl instead. He chose to watch those grey eyes moving closer to him, chose to watch the anger within them. The anger that he had caused.

It happened so fast, leaving his head swimming, but Nymeria reacted before them all. He pounced on the girl, sinking his teeth into the bottom of her shirt and pulling her towards the ground. She made a hard impact, sending the sword out of her hand. The breath was knocked from her body, and she could not move. The men ran past Gendry, ready to cut her down, but Nymeria jumped in their path, growling loudly. He watched the direwolf snarl and show her teeth, protecting the girl that could not move. Nymeria wasn't trying to harm her, but stop her from being killed. When Gendry was able to find his voice, there was only one thing he knew to do. "Bind the girl and take her to the cell."
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They forced No One into a small cell made from the bark of trees. The men pushed her forward and she fell to the ground again. Tears were blinding her vision. She had failed in her mission, failed to kill the man with the blue eyes, but that was not the reason for the tears. For a fraction of a second, before he had come to ruin it, she had felt that she knew the direwolf. She had known its face, had dreamed of it before. Something, possibly a memory was right at the surface, but the man with the blue eyes had made her lose it. She would kill him just for that. Rage had engulfed her, and she wanted his blood on the end of her blade.

She climbed to her feet just as her cell door opened again. She swung around, seeing him standing before her. He looked as though he had had his world crash before him. The tears were still evident on his face as his eyes watched her.

"I asked for your name," he said low.

"I do not have a name," she answered honestly.

"Do you not understand what is happening here?" angrily he said. "You are now being charged with attempted murder! Tell me your name, girl!" he yelled.

Why was he pressing her for her name? It was as if he wanted her to tell him something specifically. She stared at him, her face becoming a mask of hard stone. "Go to the seven hells," she ground out.

"Do you want to die!" he seethed, stepping towards her. "That's what's going to happen if you don't answer my questions! Now is not the time to be stubborn." She took a step away from him, ready to defend herself if she had to. "Do—do you know me?" he asked quietly.

"No," she whispered, leaving out that he made her feel things she wasn't used to. She left out that he made the walls inside her head quiver. She left out that he made her heart jump inside her throat at the smallest of looks.

His face crumbled, as if she had punched him. He lowered his head, turning to the side. For a moment, she felt the urge to go to him. She felt the urge to wrap her arms around him and comfort him, but she shook her head, wiping the feeling away from her.

"You look so much like..." he started, but never finished.

She saw his face change, saw the hardness begin to take hold. Good, she thought. It was easier to see him harden than to see him suffering. She could handle this better if he would treat her like the assassin she was. His head slowly rose, looking in her direction. His tears had stopped, his face growing ever harder. "You were sent here to kill me, were you not?" he asked.

"Yes," she hissed.

"The Faceless Men," he whispered. It wasn't a question but a statement. She began to smile, seeing no reason to keep the truth from him, for one of them would be dead come the morning.

"They used her face," he spat, making no sense. The color came back to his face, his anger boiling over. His hand slowly raised towards her, his finger pointing in her direction. "You will be held accountable for your actions, girl."

"I demand trial by combat," she answered immediately. It was the only way to get out of this situation, so she could retreat and start her mission again.

"And so you shall have it! Come the dawn, you will battle against my strongest warrior. Gods be with your soul," he said, stepping towards the door.

"And the name of this warrior? I have a right to know the name of the man I will kill come dawn!" she said, angrily.

The man with the blue eye stopped at the door, keeping his back to her for a few moments. He did not answer at first, as if he were trying to decide who would face her. Finally, he turned his stoned face back to her.

"Tomorrow, at dawn, you will face me in a duel to the death," he whispered.

"Then I will have come here to do what I was meant to do," she shot back, though she felt her heart crumbling.

Chapter 31: Nothing Is Ever Lost

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Long into the night, No One sat against the bars of her cell, her hands tied behind her back. Her head leaned back as she watched the stars above her head. She knew that she should be sleeping, but her mind would not slow down long enough for her relax. The man with the blue eyes had looked at her with such love, such devotion, but it had turned to anger and hardness before she could blink. Why had she felt as though he had punched her when he had told her it would be him she would be fighting come the morning? The sickening feeling was still stuck in her stomach even now.

"Child, I would say that you need a friend on this lonely night," a voice said behind her.

No One turned her face slightly, seeing a man standing behind her.

"If you can get me out of this cage I will be your friend to the end, sir," she said.

The man smiled sadly. He walked a few steps closer, but not close enough to where she could reach out to him, though with her hands tied even that would be a hard task to accomplish.

"I regret that I cannot help you that way, but perhaps I could sit and talk with you?" he asked.

"It makes no difference to me, though I'm not very good company."

The man took a seat as she studied him. Looking at his robes, she knew exactly what the man was. "So, you've come here for me to confess my sins before I die?" she said, chuckling.

"If you'd like," he answered softly.

No One shook her head, "There aren't enough hours left in the night for that."

"Then perhaps you and I could just talk."

She stared at him for a long time, trying to find his meaning for coming to her. She thought it odd for him to be here so late in the night just to chat. Then, it hit her why he was actually here. "He sent you didn't he? What, he thought I would confess my sins to a priest in hopes of finding out information?" she scoffed.

"Yes, he sent me, but not for information. Ser Gendry could not sleep thinking of you alone in the darkness. Though he would not admit it out loud, I could see his inner torment. I volunteered to come and sit with you."

No One rolled her eyes. "I doubt he was worried about little old assassin me being in the dark. However, I'm sure he was worried of my escape. Go back to your quarters, Priest. There's no need of you being here."

"There's so much emptiness within you, isn't there, child?"

His voice was soft and caring, causing her to stare at him without speaking. It was as if actually cared, but she knew better. This man worked for the man with the blue eyes. The same man that would try to end her life in a few hours.

"What's your name?" she whispered.

"Thoros. Thoros of Myr."

"Well, Thoros of Myr, I do not want to have a heart to heart with you. You can go to that man and tell him to take his concerns about me and drown in them!" she hissed.

"Lost. So very lost," Thoros whispered.

"And I guess you are the one that can help me find my way back?" she said, disdain dripping from her mouth. "I guess you think you can save me?"

Thoros smiled sadly at her again, his head shaking. "Not I, child. But there is one who can save you, only if you allow him to."

"I don't want to be saved," she hissed. "Leave me alone, Thoros of Myr. We have nothing to discuss, and I do not want you here."

The priest sighed heavily, struggling to his feet. He stood there for a few moments, as if he waited for her to change her mind. She turned her face away from him, closing her eyes against the unease in her stomach. The man with the blue eyes could go to the seven hells. She would not allow his concerns for her to affect her so deeply. It was a trick.

"Come the morning, if the duel turns in the favor of Ser Gendry, I will be there for you, child." She did not answer him, but listened to his soft footsteps as he walked away. How could anyone be there for her? She was No One.

The hours continued to pass by, but sleep still evaded her. She counted the star, as many as she could. She listened to the animals in the forest, searching for the sound of the direwolf. She desperately wanted to see Nymeria again in hopes that the memory that was just in her reach would come back. She knew the man with the blue eyes would not let the direwolf any where near her. No One closed her eyes, wanting to be anywhere but in the darkening cell.

Her heavy eyes watched the first rays of the sun shining through the trees. Not a soul was around, not one sound present, while she watched it grow and grow until he burned the blue sky. She swallowed, reminding herself of all the lives she had taken. She reminded herself that she was an assassin, and she had yet to fail a mission. The kindly man was waiting for her return, waiting to welcome her into the company of the Faceless Men for good. She must not fail, could not fail. She breathed deeply, calming herself, until she was breathing normally. Even with the first signs of the camp awakening, she forced herself to remain nonchalant about what was to come.

"On your feet," someone demanded at the door of her cell.

No One turned her eyes towards the man standing there. He was looking at her in repulsion, and she forced herself to give him a sweet smile. "I said on your feet. Do not make me repeat myself!"

"Or what? You will storm in here and teach me a lesson? No, I don't think so. Your king wouldn't like that now would he?"

Behind the man, three others were standing. They all wore the same facial expressions, showing her that she was a vile creature in their eyes. She found strength in their feelings. She would show them just how vile she could be. She would destroy their leader before their eyes, and walk away from the camp with a smile on her face and a whistle on her lips.

The men opened the door, pushing their way inside. They reached out, grabbing her arms roughly and bringing her to her feet. No One did not fight them, for she wanted a chance to kill the man with the blue eyes. She did not fear him, did not think he could defeat her. She had had three years of training, and she would use everything she was taught.

One of the men held some armor out for her. "Ser Gendry requires that you wear this." The chest plate held before her eyes caused her breath to hitch. It was made of iron, but the design on the front was what held her attention. In the center, was a large tree, its branches springing out in every direction. On one side of the tree stood a stag on two feet, rising into the air as if to jump the tree. On the other side, was a fierce direwolf looking a lot like Nymeria. Its teeth were bared.

"I don't want it," she whispered, not able to speak any louder.

"He demands it!" one of the men huffed.

"And I do not care what he demands!" she hissed.

The four men shared a look before one of them spoke. "Have it your way." He threw the armor aside and walked towards her, grabbing one of her arms. Another of the men grabbed the other. They marched her out of the cage, walking her towards the center of the camp. By the looks of it, everyone had come to watch the duel, all forty thousand men.

They watched her pass, none of them holding one ounce of sympathy. They looked upon her as a viper, coming to kill the man they swore allegiance to. She smiled at them, some blowing kisses to. The men mumbled, turning away from her in disgust. She could do nothing but laugh. Would they let her leave when she defeated the man with the blue eyes? Would they allow her to just walk out? Holding to the traditions of a trial by combat, they would have no choice, but it was never a given that one would hold the traditions. It did not matter, for she would fight her way through all forty men if she had to.

They pulled her towards a clearing, releasing her and stepping back. She turned slowly in a circle, looking for the man with the blue eyes, but he was no where to be found. Had his courage failed him? Was he going to choose another to take his place? As she continued her musing, she saw the men around her stand upright, their faces turning to someone behind her. She knew it was him without turning. Again, she felt his presence surround her, but she pushed passed it, keeping her mind on what she was about to do.

Slowly, she turned to face him and her heart began to pound loudly in her ears. He was watching her, his chest heaving deeply. She tried to make herself smile, but her facial muscles would not cooperate. All she could do was stare. He was dressed in casual black pants with a white cut-off wool shirt. His thick, dark hair was plastered to his head, as if he had just come from a swim. Those blue eyes bore in to her, up and down her body they moved. They still looked angry.

One of his men walked up to him. In his hands he carried a sword and armor. The man with the blue eyes turned away from her, taking his sword in hand. For a few moments, he just stared at the armor, until finally he spoke. "I won't need it."

"Ser Gendry, that is unwise," someone spoke to his left.

"It is my decision."

There was no other comment. The man walked away, carrying the armor away. So, he wasn't a coward after all. He would meet her face to face, flesh to flesh. A part of her respected him a little in that moment, but she pushed the thought away as quickly as it appeared in her mind.

He turned his eyes from her, looking around to his men. "Here what I say men! Under no circumstances do you step in to defend me! The girl has used her right of trial by combat, and I have chosen myself to duel against her! No man has the authority to take that away from her! If I fall under her sword, she is to be set free without harm! No man or woman may touch her! This is my word, and it shall be followed!" he bellowed.

There was not a sound around her. The whole camp had grown eerily quiet as they listened to the man with the blue eyes. Once his words were spoken, he turned back towards her. "Bring the girl's sword."

Someone walked up to her, her sword in their hands. She took it from the man, feeling elation at the feel of the hilt digging in to her skin. The sword gave her power, power that she would use to defeat the man with the blue eyes. She looked back towards him, seeing his eyes boring in to hers again.

"You can stop this," he said low enough that she was the only one that heard. "If only you would tell me your name, I could make this all go away."

"You want my name?" she asked. He nodded his head yes. "My name is No One."

For a moment, his face crumbled, but he pulled himself back together, a hardened look replacing the sadness. "Then, I will destroy you, No One, for you wear the face of someone that had a name. You wear the face of a girl that was someone!"

She snarled, his words ringing in her head loudly. "Let's do this," she whispered.

"As m'lady commands," he said, bowing his head.

The moment those words were spoken, she was frozen to the spot, feeling the walls in her head shake. He, on the other hand, did not freeze, but dropped into a stance that had her holding her breath. Before her, the man she was to kill, was in the Water Dance.

M'lady, I would appreciate it if you would show me the Water Dance. Let us put your theory of this being the way to fight to the test. The words crept into her mind like the soft touch of a kiss.

Pushing the voice aside, she charged forward, bringing her sword up to strike. The man with the blue eyes stayed where he was, watching her charge. He had yet to raise his sword. Right as she reached him, he threw his sword up, blocking her blow. She stumbled back, dropping into the Water Dance herself. Finally, the man began to move as she crept around him. They circled one another, looking for the blow.

"Did you think I would not know?" he breathed. "Did you think I would not recognize that face?"

She didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to hear his voice at all. It caused her feelings she would rather not have. To shut him up, she swung at his side. He blocked her easily again. She brought her sword around, sending it to his other side, but again he blocked it easily. He was better than she thought.

"I will do all in my power to destroy you! I will break you till there is nothing left if that is what it takes for you to remember me," he ground out.

She was so caught off guard by what he said that she hesitated for just a moment and he sent his foot out, sweeping it towards her legs. She barely had enough time to jump away from his attack, but he missed her.

"Did you think I would not know the curve of your face?" he whispered.

She charged towards him again, desperate to make him stop talking. She could not concentrate, not with the walls in her mind shaking so hard. She needed to focus, needed peace and silence.

"Your face has been seared in to my mind for years!" he screamed, his anger spilling from his eyes. "You may have forgotten me, but I could have never forgotten you!"

No One watched him for a few moments, not sure what game he was playing at. She had never seen him before, but he talked as if they knew one another.

You and me, a voice whispered in her head.

She shook her head, trying desperately to clear the voice and stop the pounding of the walls. She was losing it, and if she didn't get it together, she would lose her life in the process. That was his plan. He was trying to distract her by talking of such nonesense.

"Shut up!" she seethed through clenched teeth.

He swung his sword at her, missing her by a wide berth. She knew in an instant that he intentionally missed her own purpose.

"I would know those eyes, even in the darkest of nights. I have dreamed of your eyes staring back at me with life flowing through your veins!"

It was her turn to strike at him, and he was barely able to stop a fatal blow to his stomach. She did not let up, anger surging through her. She pulled her sword back, aiming it for his throat, but it did not touch its intended target. With a powerful force, he knocked her sword aside. She was pulled along, staggering to the left, but whirled around just as he pounced upon her.

Instead of his sword striking her, it was his hand. He grabbed for her arm, but she spun out his way, sending him careening forward. She charged with his back turned to her, but he was able to turn just in time to stop her attack. Their swords collided, fighting for the final blow that would end one of their lives. They stood inches from one another, their breaths hitching and coming out in loud puffs.

"Did you think I could ever forget the fire that burns inside you?" he breathed. "There will never come a day that I would not ever know you! Remember me, Arya!" he screamed in her face.

She pushed herself away from him, breaking their connection. She fell to the ground, tumbling until she jumped back on her feet. She knelt before him, her eyes two slits of pure rage. He was breathing hard, his eyes ever pleading.

"Say my name, Arya," he whispered.

"My name is not Arya!" she spat.

Something began to glisten in his eyes, something that looked so much like tears, but she would not allow her mind to think on it. "You have been the only thing I've lived for these past three years. You...are...everything...to...me," he cried.

No One slammed her eyes shut, her head pounding so loudly that she could barely hear his words. The walls inside her mind were shaking at an bone-shattering rate. She was breathing so hard she feared she would hyperventilate.

The man with the blue eyes raised his sword, looking at it as she fought to bring herself back in control. She heard the clank of metal fill her ears, and opened her eyes to see his sword bouncing away from him on the ground.

"Ser Gendry, what are you doing!" a man screamed from the crowd.

"I'm doing exactly what I planned to do the moment I saw her last night," he responded quietly.

"Pick. Up. Your. Sword," she ground out.

Instead of doing as she had commanded, he turned his back on her and began walking away. The crowd gasped and cried out at his foolishness, for she had slowly risen to her feet. She raised her sword and charged at his retreating back. He swivled around and dodged her swing. She came at him from his left side and he lept away. From his right, she swung at his side, but she missed again.

"PICK UP YOUR SWORD, YOU CRAVEN!" she screame in anger and frustration. Losing her focus, she came too close to him and he grabbed her, pinning the arm that held the sword behind her back and bringing her towards him. She crashed into his hard chest, his face inches from her own. Every emotion possible came pouring out of his eyes as he stared in to hers. She tried to fight against him, but he was too strong.

He's strong, the voice whispered.

She whimpered, slamming her eyes closed to silence the voice. She did not need to hear anything the voice was saying. Not this close to him.

"You allowed me in to your nightmares. You allowed me to hold you in the darkness, allowed me in when no one else could get close to you."

You're not alone, his voice whispered into her mind, yet he had not said it out loud. You...are...not...alone.

"Come back to me, Arya! Please," he begged.

With a rageful scream, she twisted in his arms until he had no choice but to release her, otherwise he would have hurt her. She stammered forward, piviting around to look at him again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his sword laying on the ground and she ran towards it, grabbing it up. She threw it at his feet where it lay still. He did not look as though he was going to pick it up.

"You promised me a trial by combat! Pick up your sword and fight me, you craven!" she yelled.

His eyes looked up at her from the sword, the sadness ever growing. "I could no more strike you than I could stop loving you, Arya."

"Stop calling me that!" she hissed, as he took a step towards her.

"See, I have lived in a world where I thought you didn't exist anymore. I've lived in a hell so deep and dark I did not think there was any way of returning. I could no more pierce your skin with that sword than I could go back to that hell."

Her chest was heaving, her eyes wide and blinded by tears that just appeared. The hands holding her sword began to shake violently. Sobs broke through her throat, flowing out of her mouth quietly. She felt the walls in her head begin to crumble. They started one brick at a time, but there was no denying what was taking place.

"I knew a girl once, a girl so stubburn, so strong-willed, that she became my match in every way. Please, Arya. Please tell me that I haven't lost her completely. Please don't send me back to that deep, dark hell, because there will be no returning this time. I know your in there! FIGHT!" He screamed the last of his words as he grabbed her roughly, pulling her back towards him. The sword fell from her hands, lying still at her feet. Her wide eyes shot up to his blue ones, as blue as the ocean from which she knew they were made. "FIGHT, DAMN YOU!" he screamed again, shaking her.

Tears fell from her eyes, flowing down her cheeks in rapid succession. "Say. My. Name!" he comanded. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but a long, staggering breath. She sucked the air back into her lungs, as the overpowering sounds continued in her head.

"You and me, Arya. It has and always will be you and me," he whispered.

In that moment, hearing the words from her own voice in her head, the walls exploded. They crashed before her eyes and a stream of memories flew at her. As soft as mist, they floated before her wide-eyes. The world around her dissappeared into the mist as she was consumed with images.

She saw Winterfell, the land that was her home. She saw her mother and father, their smiling faces looking down upon her. She saw Robb and Bran, Rickon and Jon. She saw Sansa and all of her beauty. She saw the direwolves, all six of them as pups, running around and playing.

She saw King's Landing, saw King Robert's face and the queen's. She saw Joffrey's angered face before her. She saw Syrio Ferel, saw their sparring matches and the Water dance. She heard the crowd in her mind, screaming for her father's head. She saw Yoren grab her, turning her into Arry.

She saw Hot Pie and Lommey trying to take Needle from her hand. But the face that she saw next had her moaning with a sob. The man with the blue eyes' face floated into the mist, standing before her as her protector on the road to the wall. She saw Yoren's death, saw the man with the blue eyes save her over and over again. She saw the road to Harrenhall, saw the carnage within. She saw her first kiss with the man that was holding her, could still feel the way it made her feel on that day. Jaquen H'ghar's face appeared in her mind, asking for the three names of the ones who desereved death. She saw their escape, saw Weasel's lifeless body in the hands of Hot Pie as they grieved for the child taken too soon.

She saw the Brotherhood without Banners, saw them ride into her life and take the only one she had left away from her. She saw the man with the blue eyes kneel and give them their allegiance. She saw how they shattered apart like glass. Her mother and brother's face flew at her, and their deaths caused her to cry out in agony, as if it had just happened all over again.

She saw The Hound, saw him steal her away from the Twins, away from her dead family. She saw her failed escape and the fight that had wounded the large man so. She saw Saltpan and the Titan's daughter, leading her away from the only home she had ever known. The Faceless men crept into the mist, showing her a new way of living, a new way of forgetting. She. Had. Forgotten. Everything.

The mist slowly departed, bringing her back into the here and now. When her mind cleared, she was staring in to his eyes, into a face she dared not dream of seeing again. His cheeks were wet with his own tears as he desperately whispered her name, over and over again. She knew that name, knew it as much as she knew that the visions she had just seen were her memories. She was not No One. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell.

She stared at him, his face so close to her own. A shaking hand reached out, touching his cheek lightly.

"Gendry?" she whispered.

His face completely crumbled as he grabbed her closer, holding her so tightly she could not breath, but she would not complain. Her arms snaked around him, clutching his back as if her life depended on it. Her name was upon his lips, coming at as softly as that of a sweet whisper.

"Arya, Arya...you've come back to me!" he cried in her hair.

"Gendry," she whispered again, for she knew no other word that tasted so sweet.

He leaned back, a large smile breaking out on his face. "I knew you would remember and come back to me."

She reached up, touching his eyes. They closed at her touch. She moved to his forehead, feeling his hot skin underneath her fingers. Down his nose she went, until she lightly felt of his lips. He was real, and he was before her.

"My Gendry," she sighed.

"My Arya," he said, his laughter filling her ears.

His head leaned towards her until his lips captured hers. He kissed her as he had never kissed her before, pushing all that he felt towards her. She felt every emotion he was feeling, and it matched her own. She grabbed him by the back of the head, her fingers digging into his thick, black hair, and pushing him further in to her, wanting nothing but to lose herself in the man that had brought her out of the darkness. She was saved, found, and she never wanted to live a life without him in it again. Now, he had saved her in every way he possibly could. In the rapture of his kiss, Arya Stark was finally home again.

Chapter 32: She Lives

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

He stared into a face he dared not hoped to see again. She was so close to him, her eyes watching his every move. The world around him melted, until she was the only thing in his sights. The sky could fall down upon them all, and he would not have known the difference. She was here. She was alive.

"Arya," he whispered her name again, unable to stop it.

He bent towards her again, capturing her lips softly this time. She responded to his touch, making him tighten his hold on her again. His kiss was slower this time, relishing in the feel of her soft lips upon his, relishing in the fact that he could feel air moving in and out of her mouth. The air that spoke of her being alive. When they came up for air, he drove his face into her hair, memorizing her smell, a smell that he had missed for years. Gendry slammed his eyes closed against the tears when he realized he wasn't smelling burnt flesh, but a scent that calmed him, a scent that spoke of Arya alone.

"You're here. You're real," he whispered, a tearful smile upon his face.

"I'm here...now," she answered, just as softly.

He reached out, touching her cheek lightly. She was real, not some figment of his imagination. All this time, everything he had went through, had done, and she had been alive. He drew her back to him, holding her against him, never wanting to let her go again.

"U—Um, Ser Gendry?"

Gendry heard Harwin calling him. Though he did not want to look away from Arya, the world around him came back into focus. He kept her close to him as he moved his eyes towards the man's confused face. He was aware that every person present had the same confused look about them. He thought about it for a moment, thought what it must have been like to be standing there watching him and Arya, and he began to laugh, for he could not help himself.

Gendry stood to his feet, bringing Arya up with him. He walked towards Harwin, but Arya stayed behind, picking her sword up from the ground.

"Ser Gendry, look out!" Harwin screamed before him.

Suddenly, the man grabbed him, pushing him to the ground and unsheathing his sword. He stood in front of Gendry, shielding him. Most of the men around followed suit. All of their swords were pointed in Arya's direction. His head shot up, seeing how Arya had her sword held out, as if to strike. The men did not understand. It had not sunk in that she was not a threat, and as she reached down to pick her sword up, holding it in front of her, it had looked as though she was going to strike him down.

"NO!" he yelled.

The men stepped forward, circling around Arya. She turned swiftly, looking in every direction, as the men brought their swords closer. Gendry was to his feet at once, pushing Harwin out of his way. He forced his men out of his way as he staggered towards Arya. He reached her, shielding her with his body.

"Put your swords down! Now!" he screamed at his men. At first, they did not react, for Arya still had her sword in hand. "I SAID NOW!"

Finally, the men began to lower their sword. Gendry took a long breath to calm his raging heart. He could feel Arya shaking in his arms, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were wide, her breathing matching his own ragged breathing.

"Step back men," he said as calmly as he could.

It was a slow process, but one by one the men began to step back. When they did, Arya began to calm.

"She is no threat to me! She is Arya, of House Stark. She is the girl I have been searching for all of this time." She really has returned to me, he thought.

A chorus of gasps flew through the large crowd as Gendry's words settled upon them. All eyes were on the girl in his arms. Their surprise was evident.

"Let me through! Let me pass!"

Both Gendry and Arya looked to the right, seeing the sea of men parting as someone pushed their way through. The moment his face was visible, Gendry began to smile widely. Hot Pie stood before them, his chest pumping up and down in rapid movement in the effort to run towards them. His eyes were solely on Arya, his mouth hanging open in utter disbelief.

"Arya?" Hot Pie whispered.

She let go of Gendry, walking slowly towards the boy, until she broke into a run. Hot Pie moved swiftly for his heavy weight, running towards her as well and catching her as she flung herself into his arms. At once, he squeezed his eyes shut as tears flowed down his chubby cheeks.

"We thought you were dead," he said, releasing her, but keeping a hold on her arms. "He's been searching for you for years, hoping. But I thought...I thought..."

Gendry watched from afar, giving the two just a moment of time to themselves. He knew that Hot Pie had grieved when they thought Arya was dead. He knew the boy had suffered at the thought of losing his friend.

"You knew the whole time it was her, didn't you?"

Harwin came up to stand beside him, his question ringing in Gendry's ear.

"From the very moment I saw her face," he answered.

"Seven hells, I cannot believe she lives."

Gendry took a long, deep breath. He had searched for three years for the girl that stood before him. All that he had pushing him forward was hope, but little did he know that it would be her that would come looking for him. It wasn't lost on him that her reason for coming to look for him would be to kill him, but he understood that she wasn't herself. But she was now.

Arya gave Hot Pie another hug, before excusing herself and coming back over to where he stood. She was almost to him when the sound of Nymeria's howl floated towards them. Arya froze in place, her head turning in the direction from where it came. She hesitated only for a moment before turning and dashing towards the forest. Gendry was right behind her, leaving Harwin behind.

By the time he caught up with her, she was standing before the direwolf. Both of them stared at one another. He could see Arya's chest heaving. Nymeria walked slowly towards Arya, her eyes showing her curiosity. Arya remained as still as stone as the direwolf sniffed at her outstretched hand.

"Nymeria," she breathed, her voice cracking.

The direwolf raised herself on two feet, throwing her front paws on Arya's chest. She went straight to the ground under Nymeria's weight. Gendry stepped forward, thinking her hurt, but her laughter filled his ears and he froze. Nymeria licked Arya's face from top to bottom as she laughed and cried.

Arya sat up, wrapping her arms around the direwolf's neck. Gendry walked over to them and knelt beside Arya. She looked over at him, tears filling her eyes. The smile upon her face was as bright as the sun. He reached out, petting Nymeria's head.

"She's been here? All this time?" Arya whispered.

He nodded his head. "Right after you left she showed up. Ever since then, she's been with me."

Arya reached out, taking his hand in hers. She squeezed, her face showing such raw emotion. "Thank you," she was barely able to say.

Gendry raised her hand to his lips, kissing softly. Nymeria whined. Raising her head, she gave one, long howl to the blue sky above. This time, Gendry did not feel the horrible dread that came with her howls. This time he knew the direwolf was signaling that her master had finally returned.

He helped Arya to her feet a while later, leading her towards his tent with Nymeria by her side. They walked through the camp as his men went about their business. When they came in to view, everyone stopped to stare at the girl beside him. Some still looked as though the couldn't believe she was alive, but she was as real as he was.

As soon as they were underneath the tent's shelter, he turned towards her, bringing her into his arms again. Nymeria walked towards his bed, lying down and resting her head on her paw. Her eyes stared up at him, as if she did not want to look away. Gendry reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She looked so tired. He slowly reached down, kissing her on her forehead and allowing his lips to linger there.

"You must be tired?" he asked.

Arya took a long, deep breath, shaking her head no. "I've been asleep far too long."

He leaned back to look at her, and before she had time to prepare, he lifted her into his arms. She yelped in surprise, grabbing his neck. A smile broke out on her face, and he realized that he wanted to keep the smile in place for as long as they lived.

He laid her on the bed, climbing in beside her. They were inches apart, staring at one another. He touched her face, her hair, her arm...anything to keep in constant contact with her. For one horrifying moment, he was afraid if he let her go she would fade away, as if just a dream.

"Sleep," he whispered.

Arya's eyes slowly closed, and within minutes she was asleep. Her body relaxed, her chest rising and falling slowly. He stared at her, at the way her long eyelashes laid on her skin. She had changed so much, yet she was exactly the same. Arya had always been beautiful in his eyes, but now she was exquisite. Her long hair cascaded out behind her, laying on the pillow. He looked down at her body lying close to him, seeing that she had lost her boyish looks. Arya had turned into quite a woman. He wrapped his arm around her waist, scooting her into his chest. She sighed softly, snuggling up to him and settled once more. Gendry resting his chin on her head, taking in the scent of her hair. Before he knew it, his eyes closed and he allowed sleep to take him as well.

Gendry awoke first, gently rising from the bed as to not wake Arya. She turned her back to him as he walked over to the tent's exit. There was something he needed to do, something that spoke to him in his dreams. The moment his eyes opened, it was the only thing he could think of. Taking one last look at Arya, he walked from the tent. He hurried towards the forge, his men stopping and saluting him as he passed. He nodded his head, not daring to stop for a chat. Being this far away from Arya was already driving him insane.

As soon as he entered the forge, he walked to his anvil. His Warhammer sat before him, for he was working on it before Arya had arrived. There it was, shining brightly in the darkness of the forge. The moment his eyes locked on to the small object, his heart squeezed. He took the direwolf bracelet in his hand squeezing it just enough to where he wouldn't break it. It was in that moment, in the feeling of the bracelet in his hands, that he allowed himself to purge his emotions. His face crumbled, his eyes squeezing shut. Tears spilled from his closed eyelids as he raised the direwolf bracelet to his lips. Arya was alive. He could not say it enough, could not wrap his mind around such a thought. All this time, all these years, he had hoped and prayed, and now she was finally with him again. His chest heaved as silent sobs fell from his mouth. It was too much, too much to take in.

"Gendry?"

He turned abruptly, his eyes snapping open at the sound of his name. Jeyne stood at the door of the forge watching him. Gendry turned away from her for a moment, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand.

"Jeyne," he said, clearing the emotion from his voice.

"I—I just wanted to come and tell you h—how happy I am for you," she said, her voice cracking.

He looked back at her, seeing the pain written in her eyes. "Jeyne," he said softly. It was enough to start the flow of tears in her eyes. She looked away, throwing her hands out in frustration. "I'm sorry." she cried.

Gendry shook his head, "It's alright," he said softly. He walked towards the girl. He cared about her, very deeply, but could never have given her what she needed. He had desperately hoped she would realize that, but Jeyne never had. She had always kept the hope of them being together in her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her as she continued crying. "I mean it when I say I am happy for you, Gendry. I know how much pain you went through when you thought she was dead. I—I'll be fine," she whispered.

Jeyne pulled away from him, looking embarrassed. She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek before turning and walking away from the forge. He watched her go, letting a long, deep sigh go. Gendry had tried to make himself move on, had tried to make his feelings for Jeyne more than just friendship, but he found it was impossible to do. He hoped she would be okay, hoped she would find someone who would love her the way she needed to be loved. He watched her go until she disappeared behind the trees.

Gendry walked back to his tent, the direwolf bracelet in hand. When he entered, Arya was sitting up in bed, Nymeria beside her. She was petting her head, a small smile on her face. Nyermia's head shot up when Gendry entered, but upon seeing that it was just him, she laid her head back down again.

"Where did you go?" Arya asked softly.

Gendry didn't answer her, but walked towards the bed and sat down. He reached over, taking her hand in his. He stared down at her wrists, seeing the blue veins that spoke of her life. "Close your eyes," he breathed.

For a moment, Arya just stared at him, her face showing her confusion. "Please," he whispered. Her eyes slid closed and he took the direwolf bracelet from his pocket. As softly as he could, he put the bracelet back where it belonged. He put the bracelet back around Arya's wrist.

The moment she felt it touch her skin, her eyes shot opened. He watched her stare down at it, her eyes growing ever wider. "Where did you find it?" she cried.

He swallowed against the memories assaulting him. He fought against the memory of burning flesh and the body laying in his arms, a body that was never Arya's. She looked up at him when he didn't answer and saw the answer to her question in his eyes.

"You came?" she whispered.

He couldn't answer, not at first. Instead, he nodded his head, his eyes boring into her. "I—I thought you were dead."

Arya lept towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. At first, he was stunned at her quickness, but he wrapped his arms around her as well, holding her closely to him. "All this time I thought you never came looking for me. I couldn't understand why," she said in his ear.

"I've searched for you for three years."

"The bracelet was stolen right before—before..."

Suddenly, Arya began to shake in his arms. Her arms began to squeeze him. "Arya?" he called softly. She did not answer, but continued to shake. He tried to pull away from her, to look at her face, but she would not let him go. "Arya?" he called, firmer.

"They're dead, Gendry. They're all dead," she heaved.

His eyes slowly closed, realizing who Arya was talking about. What horrible images were playing through her mind? What had she been forced to see the day the Freys betrayed her family's trust?

"I am so sorry, Arya."

"I'll kill them! I will kill every last one of them," she said, venom dripping from her mouth.

Gendry flinched, wondering how she was going to take the news that he had done just that, well most of them anyway. How would she take the news that he had gone on a rampage? Would she be scared of him? Would she be disgusted? At first, he couldn't make himself tell her, but he knew she deserved to hear the truth from him. He slid from her arms, standing from the bed and walking away.

"When we arrived at the Twins, it was days after the wedding," he started, his back to her. "The ground was littered with the bodies of your brother's men. They—they had created a mound of bodies, and on the top of that mound was a body wearing the direwolf bracelet. The moment I saw the charred remains, my world was destroyed." He turned towards her, his face crumbling in agony. "I held the body in my arms thinking it was you. I screamed your name, knowing I would never look upon your face again."

Arya stood from the bed, walking slowly towards him, but he held his hands out for her to stop. He needed to get this out, needed to say his words, for he knew where they would lead. Arya needed to hear everything he was going to say.

"The moment I thought I lost you, nothing mattered anymore. I became filled with hatred and vengeance, and I wanted all that had a hand in your death to die. I began to spread my vengeance through the land, burning everyone in my path. The Brotherhood's numbers began to grow, and the men looked to me as their leader. They followed me, killed on my command. Arya, I have killed so many I have lost count," he said miserably. "Hot Pie tried talking some sense into me, but I pushed him away. I pushed everything away, except the pain and torment. I. Made. Them. All. Pay," he ground out.

"Good!" she seethed.

"Is it?" he asked. "I almost lost myself, did lose myself, until I found out that you had lost the bracelet. From that moment on, doubt crept in past my pain and vengeance. I turned my attention on finding you, instead of killing all involved in your supposed death."

Arya stared at him intently, as her facial expressions began to change. The anger in her face died away as it was replaced with confusion. This was it, this was the question that would lead to what he feared telling her. How would she handle it? What would she do?

"I don't understand. How could you have possibly known the bracelet was stolen?" she asked.

Gendry took a deep breath. He walked towards her, closing the space between them. His hand reached up, grabbing her face lightly in his palm. "Arya..." he began, but his tent doors burst open.

"Ser Gendry, excuse me for just showing up like this, but I thought you would like to know that Lady Stoneheart as returned early. She has asked to speak with you."

Gendry closed his eyes, his heart sinking to his feet. "I—I'll be there in a moment."

When the man left, he slowly turned back to Arya. She still looked confused. He slowly reached down, kissing her on her forehead again.

"Arya," he leaned back, starting again, "There's something else you need to know."

Arya turned away from his face, looking at the tent's entrance. Something had caught her attention, and she became rigid, unmoving, as her eyes grew wide. Gendry slowly turned his head to see what she was looking at, but his mind already knew. Sure enough, when he looked, Lady Stoneheart was standing there. She had entered his tent without a sound. Her eyes were not on him, though. She was looking directly into the face of her daughter.

"Your mother's alive," he whispered.

Chapter 33: Unbelievable

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya took a step away from Gendry. Her eyes were wide and staring at the person who just walked in. There was nothing normal about the eyes that were staring at her now. There was nothing normal about the way her skin hung upon her body, or how she could see a slash in the woman's neck. Arya body was shaking as she continued walking backwards.

"Arya, it's alright," Gendry said softly, calmly.

She shook her head rapidly from side to side. No, there was nothing alright about this situation. The woman took a step closer to her, coming completely into the tent. She did not stop, but walked straight up to Arya. She scrambled backwards, hitting the bed and falling onto it. As fast as she could, she crawled to the other side, turning to look back at the woman.

"Lady Stoneheart, give me a minute to explain before you advance on her like that!" Gendry said heatedly.

Arya stood frozen to the spot, the bed between her and Lady Stoneheart. Gendry began walking towards her, but her hand shot out, stopping him. "No!" she hissed. "What in the seven hells is going on!"

Gendry raised his palms before her, "Arya, I can explain..." he began, but Lady Stoneheart jumped in. "There is no explaining. Arya knows who I am." Gendry turned his eyes towards the woman, anger spewing from them. "Yes, I know that, but she deserves an explanation as to why you're standing here in front of her and not dead," he growled.

"It can't be," Arya whispered, her eyes growing even wider.

Gendry began walking towards her again, and she backed away from him, though the hurt in his eyes caused her heart to squeeze. She felt like a trapped bird in a cage. There was no way out, no way to get away from the woman standing on the other side of the bed from her. She had her mother's face, even her mother's eyes, but this was not her mother. Gendry stilled again. She could see the torment in his eyes, see that he wanted to hold her, but she just couldn't allow him to at the moment.

"Let me pass," she said low.

"Please, Arya. I will explain everything. If you want Lady Stoneheart to leave then she will leave, but please don't go."

"I will not be going anywhere," the woman spoke.

"This is my tent! If I tell you to leave, you'll leave," Gendry said sharply.

For a couple of moments, Gendry and Lady Stoneheart were caught in a staring match. Arya could feel the tension and anger coming off of them in waves. It engulfed her, causing her unease to grow at a massive rate. Nymeria stood up from where she was laying on the floor, her growls echoing in the tent. The direwolf looked from Gendry to Lady Stoneheart. Her eyes moved towards Arya and stayed put.

Nymeria jumped on the bed, placing herself between Arya and the other two. Her head hung low, her growls rising. Arya knew the direwolf could feel her fear, her confusion. Both Gendry and Lady Stoneheart walked slowly from the bed. It opened up room for Arya to flee.

She climbed on top of the bed, climbing onto the direwolf, for Nymeria had grown in such size that Arya easily fit on top of her. Once she was in place, Nymeria did not hesitate, but bolted from the tent. Arya hung on for dear life, feeling the wind swipe at her face and hair. Behind her, she could hear Gendry screaming her name, screaming for her to come back. She couldn't do it. She could be no where near that...that...that woman.

Arya and Nymeria flew through the camp as onlookers stopped with gasps and cries on their lips. The direwolf was fast, faster than even Arya could imagine. She wound around buildings, jumping over objects in her path. The men had to scramble out of the way as she flew by them like the wind. To the forest they went. Arya recognized the path easily, for it was the path leading to the Crossroads Inn. She leaned forward, resting her head on Nymeria's fur. Images of Lady Stoneheart assaulted her, images of her mother's face.

"Dear gods," Arya whispered over the wind in her ears.

She had watched her mother die, had watched her throat being cut. She had watched the light go out in the woman's eyes, heard the last gasp of air leave her body. But even after all of that, her mother had just been in front of her. Arya's fingers dug into Nymeria's fur, her head swimming with disbelief. She needed a moment, needed time to think. She closed her eyes against the pain she knew she had just caused Gendry, but she was desperate to get away from her mother's face, desperate to get away from her eyes. He would come looking for her, she was sure.

The Crossroads Inn came into view and Nymeria began to slow. As soon as they reached the three story building, Nymeria came to a stop, and Arya climbed off on wobbly legs. She petted the direwolf's head, giving her thanks. When she entered, she breathed a sigh of relief that not many patrons were drinking. Maybe a total of four men sat in the inn.

Arya looked over at the bar and saw the person she was desperate to see. Hot Pie was talking softly to Jeyne, his hand patting her back gently. She looked visibly upset, but as her eyes turned up to look at Arya, her pain turned to surprise. Hot Pie looked over, his eyes matching Jeyne's.

"Arya?" he called out.

She was rooted at the door, breathing hard. Hot Pie walked over to her, taking her arm gently and guiding her to the bar. As soon as she sat down, there was a cup in front of her, and Arya drained the ale in one gulp.

"Another, please,"she gasped.

She had drank three cup fulls of ale before Hot Pie spoke. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Arya rested her elbows on the table, her forehead in her palm. Her eyes were opened and staring at the wooden bar, but she could only see her mother's face.

"She's alive," Arya finally croaked.

Without having to ask, Jeyne filled her cup again and Arya shot it in one take. Slowly, the ale was working, causing her mind to grow fuzzy, her body to feel light.

"Oh shit," Hot Pie whispered beside her.

"Oh shit is right, friend," she whispered back.

"When did she get back?" Hot Pie asked.

Arya shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "When did the dead stand up and start walking?"

There was silence beside her, and she slowly turned her head to see Hot Pie staring at her. His face was unreadable, yet his eyes spoke of anger. He was angry at the thought of Lady Stoneheart, but why?

"What is it, Hot Pie?"

"Where's Gendry?" he said, his voice rough.

"I—I left him behind. I had to get away from her as fast as possible. I rode Nymeria all the way here."

Hot Pie grabbed Arya's arm, pulling her to her feet. She staggered a bit, feeling the ale's effects, but righted herself and followed him. He took her into the back of the inn, into the kitchens. Once they were alone, he turned on her sharply, inches from her face.

"Listen to me when I say this, Arya, that woman may look like your mother, she may even sound like her in a round-about way, but she isn't Catelyn Stark. Something happened to her when Dondarrion brought her back. She only thinks of killing, only thinks of revenge. My gods, some of the things she has forced Gendry to do..." he paused at that, as if he had said too much."

"What things?" Arya whispered.

Hot Pie swallowed, looking unsure of himself now. "It's not my place to tell you," he whispered. "Gendry hasn't been himself for a long time now, and that woman has fed off of it, used it for her gain. Everyone could see it for the longest, and only recently has he been able to see it for himself. I'm telling you, Arya, something isn't right with her."

"Yeah, she's dead," Arya said, her voice hoarse.

"No, she's very much alive, but changed."

Some time went by as they stared at one another. "S—so, she's really my mother?" Arya asked, her voice as soft as a child's.

Hot Pie's face looked pained for a moment. "Yes, she's your mother. Please, Arya, please let Gendry explain it to you. He has been there from the beginning, knows everything."

As if Hot Pie saying his named summoned him, they heard the loud crash of the inn's front door being swung open.

"Arya! Arya! Hot Pie!" Gendry's voice boomed to them.

She could hear panic in his voice, hear fear in his words. Hot Pie turned from her, going out to meet him. Arya took a few moments to get herself under control. She calmed her beating heart, calmed her breathing, before stepping towards the kitchen doors.

"Please, tell me she's here," Gendry begged Hot Pie.

"She's here, just give her a moment," Hot Pie answered.

Arya could see him from where she was standing, could hear his audible sigh the moment it left his body. He closed his eyes, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. She felt guilty for just storming out like she did, but she had no other choice. She wasn't angry with Gendry, how could she be.

When she came in to view, Gendry turned to look at her. She saw the relief in his face immediately. He walked slowly towards her, reaching for her hands. He held them tightly in his, laying his forehead on hers. Both of them closed their eyes, not caring that everyone was watching.

Gendry looked to Hot Pie, nodding his head in thanks and leading Arya out of the back door. For a while, neither spoke. They walked deep into the woods, the sounds of birds chirping above their heads. Gendry let go of her hand and she stopped walking, but he kept moving, until he slowly turned to face her.

"We showed up at the Twins days after the events that took place." Arya flinched at his words. "Like I said before, everyone was dead. We found Lady Stoneheart floating in the river. You know that Dondarrion had been awakened from the dead by Thoros. You remember that, don't you?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Yet, Thoros refused to bring your mother back, saying that she had been dead in the water too long." Arya felt her head begin to swim. "Dondarrion and Harwin would not give up, but Thoros still refused to do it. Instead, Dondarrion gave up his life-force to Lady Stoneheart killing himself in the process. I was inches from them, watching. Her eyes flew open and she arose, alive...just like that," Gendry whispered the last words. "She saw me and attacked, almost killing me."

"Why?" Arya asked, her voice shaking.

Gendry looked over at her, his face void of emotion. "Because, I reminded her of the man she blamed for taking your father away from her."

It was then that Arya remembered the reason she had come to this place. It was then that the words of the kindly man floated to her head. "You are to kill the bastard son of the dead King Robert Baratheon."

"Gendry..." Arya breathed, her eyes growing wide.

"No one wanted to take the lead after Dondarrion died, so Lady Stoneheart chose herself for the task. She refused to be called Catelyn Stark, but Lady Stoneheart instead. She and I were inseparable at first, for she was all that I had left of you besides Nymeria. I have done many things under her power, and I wish I could say that I was forced to do them, but I wanted blood on my hands. I wanted it to run down my arms and bathe within its red liquid. Arya, I completely lost myself."

Arya thought of how their worlds had paralleled when they had parted. She, too, wanted blood on her hands, to drown the sorrows with her rage.

"I'm so afraid, so scared, that if you knew what I've done, you would turn away from me, Arya. When I say I went to a dark place in my life, I meant it. I allowed Lady Stonehearts vengeance and rage to consume me, making my vengeance and rage overflow. I have had men begging at my feet as I crush their heads with my bare hands," Gendry seethed.

She saw the torment in his eyes, saw his soul darkened. He was looking away from her, staring off into the forest as his eyes blazed with memories. She tried walking towards him, but he took a step away from, holding his hands up for her to stop. His body was rigid, tense. She could see the demons he was fighting, for they were the same demons she was fighting as well. He did not understand, had no clue that she had chosen the same path as he.

"I found out that Lady Stoneheart knew the bracelet had been stolen, but she had failed to tell me. I now understand why she didn't tell me. She didn't want hope to build within me, didn't want it to overshadow my rage, for I did her bidding in death as well as my own. I...will...never...forgive...her...for...that!" he seethed. "All those months I wasted thinking you were dead. I could have been searching for you."

Arya started walking towards him again, not caring if he didn't want her to. She stood before him, laying her hand on his chest and feeling his heart pounding. He watched her, his eyes pleading for her to understand.

"Your sins are mine, Gendry," she whispered. "All that you have done, I have done as well. The path that you so desperately tried to save me from in Harrenhall was the path waiting for me after what I saw on that horrible day. If your soul is tainted for what you've done, then my soul has been shattered like glass."

Gendry's arms shot out, grabbing her to him. She could feel his body shaking, could feel his breath hitch. Was he so afraid that she would turn from him in disgust at what he had done? Was he so afraid she would hate him when she learned of his rampage? If anything, it proved to her how much he loved her. Though the path he chose had been that of death, he had chosen it because of his love for her. He had chosen it to bring the people down that had taken her away from him.

"The Freys have suffered a horrible blow from me, Arya. I destroyed Walder Frey as he sat on his black throne. I burned the Twins to the ground in my rage. The Boltons are on the run, yet I have caught some of them. The Lannisters are what awaits me, but I can't find the rage to finish it...not anymore. I want them dead, yet I can't find it in myself to do it. These men, my men, deserve so much more than a life of killing," Gendry whispered in her ear.

She squeezed him, wishing to take his pain away, but she knew it was not possible. The choices he had made he would have to live with just as she would have to live with her choices as well.

"We all have our demons, Gendry. Yours are no worse than my own. I have done the same as you, for it was my way of life for years. I did the work of the Faceless Men, and the work of Faceless Men is working for the god of Death. I am not the girl you remember me being," she said, softly.

Gendry leaned back, his face inches from hers. "And I'm not the boy you remember me being," he breathed. "But I don't want to be that boy again. I don't want you to be that girl, for they allowed everything to shatter. The boy walked away from the girl, because he thought he wasn't good enough."

"And the girl walked away from the boy, because she thought he wanted to leave her too," Arya responded.

"I will never leave you again," Gendry said, his words leaving no room for argument.

"You and me," she whispered.

"You and me."

Gendry reached down, taking her mouth in his. She could feel his want, his need for her, and she opened her mouth to him. His tongue slithered inside her mouth, meeting her tongue with gentle ease. He grabbed the back of her head, keeping her in place as he roamed the inside of her mouth. Her hands sat on his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him closer. How she had missed his touch. How she had missed his lips upon hers. Not even the lust for the kill could overshadow the strength of her want for Gendry. They spent the remainder of the afternoon in each others embrace, whispering their secrets.

"Your the son of King Robert?"

"Bastard son, but yeah," he answered.

Arya was blown away by that knowledge, though it all made perfect sense to her now. It made perfect sense as to why the queen was after him. It made perfect sense as to why Yoren had told him to run with Arya when they were attacked. The thick, black hair was Robert's all the way. Though she did not know what the king had looked like when he was younger, she did remember Renley. Gendry could have passed for his twin. How had she not seen it before? How had she been so blind?

"The men have made me their leader in battle, because of who my father is. They talk of me sitting on the iron throne. They talk of me being the true king."

"What?" Arya said, surprise evident in her voice.

"Forty thousand men want me on that throne, Arya, but I don't want it. I've never wanted it. There was a time when I thought it over, thought of sitting in my father's chair, but I've realized that's not me. I am no king, yet these men do not give up that easily. They plan to take me all the way to King's Landing. I am not even legitimized."

"With forty thousand men, I really do not think that matters," Arya said.

"It does to me." Gendry removed his arm from around and and walked a little ways ahead, keeping his back turned to her. "I've spent years not knowing who I truly am, and even now, knowing that I am the king's son, I still am not truly a Baratheon, nor will I ever be. Yet, my men look to me as they would their dead king. The comparisons to me and my father is uncanny, they say."

Arya blew out a long breath. What he was saying was overwhelming. Who he was was overwhelming. "If our fathers could see us now," she breathed.

Gendry chuckled, "Think they would be proud? A Baratheon and a Stark together again?"

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "Either proud or scared...I'm not sure which one. Is it history repeating itself, because their lives sure didn't turn out for the best?"

Gendry walked back towards her, taking her face in his hands. "We will change the course of history then. The Starks and Baratheons will live on," he whispered.

She reached up on the tips of her toes, kissing him long and hard. Their kiss was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. Both Arya and Gendry turned to see one of the men standing there watching them. He looked uncomfortable, his face growing red.

"L—Lady Stoneheart wishes to speak with the girl," he said.

Arya closed her eyes, not really wanting to speak with the woman, but knowing she had to at some point. If Lady Stoneheart was one of the Broterhood's leaders, she could not put off speaking with her much longer.

"You don't have to, Arya. If you aren't ready, she can wait," Gendry said.

Arya shook her head and said, "No, let us just get it over with."

With that, Gendry took Arya's hand and led her back into the inn. The room was filled with the Brotherhood. They watched as Arya and Gendry came into the room. At once, her eyes flew to one of the tables to see Lady Stoneheart seated. The woman watched her, her face unreadable.

Arya took a seat in front of the woman as Gendry stood close behind. For a long while, no words were spoken, not a sound was heard. Arya stared at the woman, at her mother, seeing the way her eyes bore in to her. She saw the milky-white skin. She saw the slash in the woman's throat, and she slammed her eyes shut as the image of her mother's neck being cut assaulted her. It was only the feel of Gendry's hand coming to rest on her shoulders that pulled her from the horrible image.

The woman's hand rose, covering the slash in her throat. "You do recognize me, do you not?" she asked, her voice low and scratchy.

Arya nodded her head. "Y—Yes," she stuttered.

"I am not that woman anymore, the woman who gave you life, but I still have my memories. You are my daughter."

"No," Arya said at once.

The woman's head tilted to the side just a fraction of an inch, her eyes holding her curiosity. "No?" she drawled.

"No," Arya said again. "You might resemble my mother, might even have her memories, but I am not your daughter and you are not my mother. My mother died on that day. What I look upon now is just a shadow of who she was."

The anger was building inside of her for reasons she could not quite fathom. The longer she had to stare at the woman, the angrier Arya became. She should have been in tears, feeling joy, for her mother still lived, but something about the woman raised red flags in Arya's mind. She could feel the danger from this woman, feel that this woman was like a snake hidden in high grass ready to strike the first flesh that came in her vision.

Lady Stoneheart began to smile. It grew slowly at first, until he filled her whole face. "Look at what they did to me, Arya. Remember what they did to your brother. Did you know the direwolf's head rests upon his shoulders now? They slashed my neck as you looked on helplessly. They burned those men alive."

"Lady Stoneheart, that's enough," Gendry seethed above Arya's head.

"They would have raped and flayed you alive if they would have had the chance," she continued, ignoring Gendry. "Remember the blood you swam in in the Great Room? Remember the screams of the innocent as their limbs were cut from their bodies?"

Arya felt the bile rise in her throat. She felt the images assault her with a vengeance. It was as if she was reliving that day all over again. She knew the game Lady Stoneheart was playing at. She knew the woman was trying to build the rage inside of her, but what the woman did not understand is that Arya had her own rage. What she did not understand is what happened at the Twins could not do any more harm than it had already. Arya realized that Lady Stoneheart looked upon her as a threat, for she calmed the rage inside of Gendry. She calmed him so much that he refused to continue burning the land with his wrath. No, this woman was not her mother any longer.

"You cannot affect me, Lady Stoneheart. Nor will you use me as a pawn in your game. You are not my mother. You might have been at one point, but what has been is dead. I watched you die, so in my mind you continue to be dead."

Her smile never left her face, her eyes never moved. Arya stood from her seat, turning to leave. Gendry was right beside her, as close as he possibly could stand. She could feel Lady Stoneheart's eyes upon her as she walked from the building. Arya was holding her breath and didn't release it until she was riding on top of Nymeria again. Gendry rode beside her on his horse as they road into the Brotherhood's camp.

She had a chance to really think about Lady Stoneheart, and no matter how much she wanted her mother to be alive, she could not look on the woman as such. She was right to have changed her name, for Catelyn Stark she was not. Now, the question was, what would Lady Stoneheart do in retaliation to her open rebuke? Arya wasn't so sure, but if it came to down to it, she would defend herself at all cost.

The days past slowly by. Arya spent most of her time with Gendry, some time with Hot Pie, and some time to herself. One particular day, she found herself in the forge watching Gendry work. Luckily, Lady Stoneheart had not approached her again, but she knew the day would come when the woman would confront her. Though he tried to hide it, Arya knew Gendry was keeping the two women far from one another. She watched Gendry's muscles work as he hammered away at the anvil. Arya had missed watching him where he was most comfortable. It seemed he forgot about everything when he worked. He had no worries, no fears, as he created.

Before Arya knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, walking towards him. He did not seemed to notice her, but she was okay with that. Silently, she walked up behind him, gently touching the sweat that ran down his back. His arm froze in the air, his head turning to the side to watch her out of the corner of his eye. She felt something, a sensation, in the pit of her stomach that she had not felt before. Could it be...lust? She scraped her nails down his back, feeling his body shutter.

Gendry turned towards her, dropping his hammer with a loud clank. His chest was in her face, his dark curls wet with his sweat. She had no clue what was happening to her, no clue why her mind turned fuzzy and wouldn't listen to her commands to stop. She was driven forward by a need to feel him close. Though she knew she loved Gendry, this was something different. This was a primal need, a need to melt into his sweaty skin. The way his chest heaved, she thought he could feel it too.

She leaned forward, her lips caressing his skin. Her tongue reached out just enough for her to taste him. The soft moan escaping his mouth made her excitement build, until she felt the feelings in her lower stomach would drive her crazy.

His hands reached up, grabbing her face and crushing his lips with hers. His touch was hungry, his body shaky and tense. She could feel his erection, and she was overwhelmed that she had caused that. Swiftly, he grabbed her hips and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waste as he continued their kiss. He walked them forward until her back hit the forge's wall, sealing her in place.

Arya grabbed his thick neck, digging her fingernails into his skin, which caused him to moan again. She caught the moan with her mouth, taking it in to her body. His lips left her, and she began to whimper, until he placed them back on her neck. He kissed her, tasted her, causing sensations to explode inside of her, sensations she did not even know existed. One of his hands came up, taking her long hair and holding it back. His path to her entire neck was opened to his lips and tongue.

She kissed the side of his face, tasting the sweat that fell down his skin. The taste of him sent her into euphoria. "I love you," she whispered, not able to stop the words. They flowed on their own, yet they felt completely right.

Gendry froze, his lips laying softly on her neck. For a few moments, they stayed as still as stone. Slowly, his head leaned back, his blue eyes meeting hers. His face was unreadable, yet his eyes showed such love, such devotion. He watched her for what felt like forever before his lips began to move. At first, she did not understand him, for no sound was coming out.

"Marry me."

The words floated to her ears like the soft kiss of silk. Her eyes grew wide as what he had said sunk in. "Marry me, Arya," he whispered again.

"I—I..." she began, but something stopped her.

Outside the forge, the sound of a horn began to blow. Gendry's head shot in the direction of the sound, his eyes slowly growing wide. It continued, until the sound of men's yells joined it. Arya was set on her feet as Gendry turned towards his anvil. He grabbed his Warhammer from the anvil, grabbing his armor as he passed.

When she finally found her voice, she asked, "What's going on?"

"The horn only blows when there's a host coming towards the camp," he answered, pushing his armor in place.

Arya did not hesitate, did not wait for his approval, as she walked towards the wall that held the armor. She was a good fighter and would not be left behind. He looked over towards her just as her head came from underneath the chest plate.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What does it look like," she answered, grabbing one of the swords.

"Arya..." he began, but she turned towards him, giving him a look that stated she would not argue with him. She was going, and he wouldn't be able to stop her. For a moment, he looked as though he would do just that, but then he sighed heavily.

"Fine! But you stay close to me...please," he said, his last words begging her.

They left the forge together, his men armed and ready. They were already to their horses when the man working the lookout came to fill Gendry in on what was coming.

"There numbers are not that much, m'lord. They seemed to be carrying a white flag atop another flag I cannot make out yet."

"A white flag?" Gendry asked.

"Yes, m'lord. It is plain to see in the bright sun."

Arya listened to the conversation, realizing the white flag meant someone was coming in peace, but was it a trick? Gendry did not speak for a few moments, as if to decide what the correct course of action was. He looked around at his men, his eyes turning towards Arya.

"We will ride out to meet this group. If they come in peace, we will give them just that! Men, stay cautious, for it could be a trap."

With that, Gendry climbed atop his horse, Arya atop Nymeria. Together, side by side, they rode in the front of the massive group of Brotherhood. When the visitors came in to view, Arya hoped for their sake that they came in peace. Gendry's army outnumbered them without the threat of lives being lost on Gendry's part if the men wanted war. Still, Gendry looked alarmed and tense. Arya, on the other hand, felt excitement flow through her. She missed this, missed the feeling of a fight.

They were close to the group of men now, and the moment Arya noticed the man riding in the front, she gasped. She recognized his face immediately. "Seven hells," Gendry whispered, for he recognized the man as well. The group stopped, their white flag held high above their heads. Gendry held his fist up, stopping his massive force as well.

The man leading the small group rode slowly towards Arya and Gendry, his men remained where they were. Gendry turned his head towards Arya, nodding once.

"Stay here," he commanded his troops. The command flew throughout the large number of men, until it reached the back.

Arya followed Gendry towards the man. Her heart hammered in her chest, her eyes as wide as saucers. This man would have been the last person she would have thought to have seen. They all came to a stop, a wide berth between them. For a moment, the man and Gendry just stared at one another, their faces showing the same surprised expression.

"They said the Bull who rode the wildfire favored his uncle Renley, though I did not believe them," the man whispered.

"They said I favor my father, King Robert, in battle, though," Gendry answered in return.

"But it is your uncle Stannis they say you take after in your mentality."

Gendry nodded his head. "So I have heard, but since I do not know any of these men I cannot be so sure."

"Well then, I am flattered that people think your intellect is of me, Bull that rides the wildfire, for you have destroyed enemies I had once hoped to destroy myself," the man said softly.

Arya and Gendry found themselves looking into the face of his uncle, Stannis Baratheon.

Chapter 34: A Family of Bastards

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

A fire had been started around the camp. Hot broth and ale was served as the Brotherhood sat around talking quietly. Gendry studied the man in front of him. Stannis was busy eating his broth, but his eyes would travel up to meet Gendry's. Both shared the Baratheon blue eyes, and though Stannis' hair had receded, the color of black still lay upon his head. What did this man truly want, Gendry wondered? They had not said much to one another as he and his men were fed. Their horses were being fed as well. Once the initial shock of seeing each other wore off, Stannis had asked Gendry to allow him and his men to rest.

"We have met before. Do you remember?" Stannis asked.

Gendry remembered. He had accompanied Jon Arryn in King's Landing to see him before the man had mysteriously died. "Yes," he answered quietly.

"When Arryn told me what he was searching for, it peaked my interest. Everyone knew my brother had bastards, it was no surprise, but I wondered why he wanted to see you so badly. The moment I saw you, I felt like I was thrown into the past. You have so much Baratheon in you. I stayed in the background as he questioned you about your parents, but I needed no proof as to who you were."

"If it was no surprise who my father was, then why search me out at all?" Gendry asked.

"That was the same question I asked Arryn. He told me that he had questions, horrible, earth-shattering questions, about Robert's trueborn children.

"Questions?"

Stannis nodded his head. "Gendry, Cersie never bore Robert's children. All Baratheons are born with black of hair, yet Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella all have gold of hair. Jon Arryn had realized that the three children Cersie passed off as Roberts trueborns were in fact her brother's children. Children born of incest."

Gendry sat as still as stone, allowing the information to settle within him. There was not a sound to be heard beside the fire as his men heard the truth from Stannis.

"That is why he died, is it not?" Gendry whispered, not able to speak any louder.

Stannis nodded his head. "He realized the truth. Perhaps others had figured it out as well, but he was verbal about what he had uncovered. That knowledge cost him his life. My brother has no trueborn heirs, only bastards."

"And Ned Stark?" Gendry asked quietly, feeling Arya shift uncomfortably beside him.

Stannis' eyes turned towards Arya, staying on her for a moment. She had sat quietly the whole time, not saying a word as he and Stannis talked. He looked at her quickly, just to make sure she was okay. She was staring in to the fire, her eyes unblinking.

"He came to see you as well, did he not?" Stannis asked him.

"Yes, just...just before..." He could not finish, not with Arya sitting so close.

"Right after your father died, I received a letter from Ned Stark. Within this letter, he confirmed what I already knew from Arryn. Yes, Ned Stark had realized the truth as well. I have heard from a reliable source that he confronted Cersie. Why he did this, I will never know, but knowing how honorable the man was, he did it to save her and her children. He knew when Robert found out the truth, he would murder her and the children without a thought. For his honor, he was betrayed. For knowing the truth, his life was forfeit. I would have followed in both his and Arryn's footsteps if I would have not fled right after Jon Arryn was murdered. It is the only thing that saved me."

"How many are there? How many bastards?" Gendry asked softly.

Stannis did not answer at first. Gendry had been looking into the fire, listening to the man's words. When he did not answer, Gendry slowly looked up at him. The man was staring straight at him with an intense look.

"There were many, but no longer," he answered quietly. "Someone was looking out for you, Gendry, for you are still alive today. Joffrey and Cersie had every bastard of Robert's hunted down and killed. No matter how small or big they were, each one lost their lives."

Gendry slammed his eyes closed, not believing what he was hearing. It was why the Gold Cloaks had come searching for him. They were there to murder him like all the rest. He felt Arya's hand slither into his and he squeezed it. "A constant reminder of what a Baratheon should look like?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"I am the last that remains of Robert's bastards? Is that what you are trying to tell me?"

Stannis shook his head, his eyes never leaving Gendry's. "I cannot speak for how many still remain alive, though I know it is not that many. I personally know of only two more, besides yourself. One of them has been in my care, until the appropriate time that I knew I had to get him out."

"Him?"

"Your brother, Gendry. There is also a sister from the Eyrie."

"A brother and a sister?" Gendry said, astonished.

"Listen to what I say, boy!" Stannis said, leaning forward. "I have done things, things I am not proud of but thought to call it justice. Though I feel the iron throne is mine by right, I am not blind to the fact that my blood is dying out. House Baratheon has suffered a fatal blow, and if I do not try to stop the bleeding, there will be nothing left of this great House. Though you three are bastards, you are all that is left of my brother. Therefore, I feel it my duty to protect all the Baratheon blood I can!"

"This, coming from the man who murdered his brother."

Everyone turned with a gasp, seeing Lady Stoneheart's eyes boring into Stannis. The man slowly rose to his feet, his blue eyes wide. "What in the seven hells?" he breathed.

"Tell Gendry how you murdered your own brother Renley! Tell them how you used magic to destroy the only brother you had left!"

"Y—Y—You are dead! The news of the Red Wedding reached my ears! I know you are dead!" he said, his eyes growing bigger.

"I am very much alive, and I remember everything. I was standing in Renley's tent when that shadow came in. I was there when a shadow, looking so much like you, drove a knife into your brother's back! Now, you sit here talking of honor and family. You know nothing of either!" she spat.

Stannis swayed on his feet, his eyes never leaving Lady Stoneheart. "I was blinded by..." he began, but she interrupted him. "By what? By that Red Witch of yours? You wanted him dead, do not deny it! You allowed him to fall without blinking an eye!"

"I will go to my grave with his face in my mind!" Stannis growled.

"Save your horrible lies!" Lady Stoneheart bellowed. "You will pay for your crimes, Stannis Baratheon. String him up and let him hang!" she yelled to the men.

The men answered her yell with one of their own as the advanced on Stannis. His sword was unsheathed at once, his men behind him following his lead. Gendry acted at once, jumping to stand before his own men to stop their advances.

"Enough!" he screamed, making his men come to a halt.

"Gendry, stand aside. This man will hang for his crimes!" Lady Stoneheart seethed.

"A crime, which he has already paid dearly for in the lose of his men at Blackwater! Stand down men!"

His men stopped advancing, their faces looking at him in confusion. He slowly unsheathed his sword, ready if they attacked, his own men. For a moment, no one moved, until Arya came to stand beside him, her own sword out before her.

"I will hear what the man has to say, for it is of great importance to me. Lady Stoneheart, justice has already been served in this matter and no harm will come to him and his men, is that understood?"

"No, it is not understood. It is a trap, Gendry! Open your eyes and see this." she whispered back.

"I will be the judge of that and will suffer the consequences if I am wrong!"

More of his men came towards the camp to see what the commotion was about. Would these men listen to him? Or would they listen to Lady Stoneheart? The discord inside the Brotherhood had grown to such extreme, he wasn't sure where their loyalty would lie if a situation such as this arose. He looked over to Harwin, begging with his eyes for the man to stand with him. Harwin was looking from him to Lady Stoneheart, his face showing how torn he was. This had to end, all the discord. The Brotherhood would tear themselves a part if he did not stand up and be the leader he was supposed to be. Lady Stoneheart was taking them down a dark path, had been taking them down a dark path, and he had done nothing to stop it, because he wanted to be swallowed up by the darkness. That all changed when Arya had come back to him. Now, he wanted the Brotherhood to be the men they were supposed to be all along, but he knew that wasn't possible if Lady Stoneheart was with them.

"I command you to bring Stannis Baratheon to justice for the crime of murder. Men, arrest him," she commanded.

"And I command you to relieve Lady Stark of her duties as leader of the Brotherhood without Banners. Escort her, unharmed, to her quarters until I come to see her," Gendry said, his voice sure and true.

There was the softest hint of surprise in her dead eyes, but she hid it with a smile. The smile grew until her teeth were bare to him. "You fool," she whispered.

His heart hammered loudly in his ears. Finally, after years of watching the woman make the decisions for him and the others, he was doing something about it now.

"What authority do you have to do this?" she asked, walking towards him. "I made you what you are, or have you forgotten that! You would have none of these men if it were not for me!"

"We give him the authority!" a man shouted in the crowd. A great murmur went up, agreeing with what had just been said.

Gendry turned to Harwin, nodding his head. Three men walked towards Lady Stoneheart, taking her arm, but she shoved them off. "I can walk myself," she said low. He watched her walk away, and as she went out of sight, he turned his head towards Arya. She was staring at the woman's' retreating back, her face void of emotion. He reached out, touching her face lightly. She turned to him, giving him a strained smile. It was the only thing she could give him to show that she was okay with what he had just done. Gendry knew that Arya did not think the woman her mother, but he still did not want her hurt by what he had just done.

Gendry turned looking towards Stannis, his face growing hard. "I swear that if you try to stab me in the back I will kill you myself," he growled.

Stannis turned from Lady Stoneheart to Gendry. He nodded his head, understanding what Gendry was telling him. "Maybe I would have at one point, Gendry, but not now. I can prove it to you," Stannis said, turning away from him.

Stannis took a step away from Gendry, reaching out his hand and beckoning someone forward. It was then that Gendry noticed two figures standing amongst his men. He could not see their faces, for they wore a long, brown cloak around them. The hood obscured the view of their faces. They both walked forward to stand in front of Gendry and beside Stannis.

At the same time, they removed the hoods from their faces, and Gendry found himself staring into the same blue eyes that he himself wore. The same blue eyes that his uncles and father wore. He took a step back, his eyes growing wide.

"Gendry, may I introduce you to Edric Storm and Mya Stone, your brother and sister," Stannis said softly.

He was speechless, not able to say a word. He could only stare, stare at the faces that resembled his own in some ways. The moment his mother had died, Gendry had thought he was alone in the world. He thought there was no family left, yet now he found himself staring into the faces of his family. There were loud gasps behind him from his men, yet he ignored them as he continued staring.

"Wow, you're big!" Edric said, his eyes widening in astonishment.

Gendry could not reply, but continued to stare at him and Mya. By the look of her, Mya was older than him, but Edric was younger. The young boy looked up at him as if he were a god.

"You two must be tired. Come, sit by the fire," Arya said gently, doing what he himself should have been doing, but he just couldn't find the words. Edric and Mya passed him, giving him a sideways glance as they did. Gendry stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes now looking at nothing but air.

"Gendry, I know this comes as a shock, but there was nowhere else to take them. Where I am going, Mya would not be permitted, and I do not trust anyone else to take Edric. Something evil is after the young boy. Something evil will be after you all if you are found. It is something I allowed to happen, and I only realized too late the error of my ways. The damage has been done, has been created, so I acted as fast as I could to get Edric out of harm's way. I knew of Mya, so I went to the Eyrie and took her as well. I cam here searching for you, the last piece in my dead brother's puzzle."

Gendry finally felt himself coming back to reality. He turned his face towards Stannis, not really understanding half of what the man had just said, but he knew he would protect Edric and Mya without thought. "Where are you going?" he asked, finding his voice again.

"Towards the Wall. I received a message, one that has been lost for years, that spoke of the Wall's need of more men. Robert and Joffrey overlooked this request, one that sounded urgent. Tell me you know the stories of what is beyond the Wall."

"Some of them," Gendry responded.

"Over the past year, the talk has gotten more intense. People are saying that the wildlings and white walkers are on the move. They say their purpose is to break through the wall of ice and take back a land they feel is theirs."

"That is impossible!" Gendry said, his voice showing his disbelief.

"Perhaps it is, but let us say it is a possibility. Let us say that both groups are heading towards the Wall. It is our last line of defense, and if it falls we all fall with it. Though I feel I am the true heir to the iron throne, if what some are saying is true, there might not be a throne to fight for in the end," he said low.

Gendry thought about this, and it sent a long shiver up and down his spine. In his mind's eye, he saw the forest around them being overrun with wildlings, or worse, white walkers. He felt a sickness in his stomach, a sickness full of dread.

"You have forty thousand men at your back, more men than most anyone, but these numbers won't even put a dent into the numbers the wildlings and white walkers will have. Gendry, the fight is not with the Boltons or the Lannisters, though I wouldn't mind the Lannisters being swallowed whole by the white walkers, but it is with what lies behind the Wall. They are coming, I can feel it in the air."

"So, you come here to tell me what? You come here to tell me you need my men? You throw a half-brother and half-sister in my face to win me over? Tell me Stannis, what is it that you want from me?"

"You do not trust me?" Stannis asked.

"No," Gendry answered honestly.

Stannis smiled, though it's meaning was not known to Gendry. "Good!" he said, simply. "Understand this Gendry, I do not want my House to die out, but I am the true heir to the iron throne. Anyone who stands between me and what is rightfully mine is committing treason. For a moment, I can put that aside, because I am more worried about what is beyond the Wall than I am about who is trying to take the throne away from me. I come to you, because Edric and Mya need a safe haven. I come to you because you are my blood, no matter how you were brought into this world. I come to you, because you have forty thousand men behind you, and you have the means to take the iron throne if you want it. Do you want it?"

"No," Gendry answered honestly again.

"And yet, I do not believe you," Stannis said, low.

Gendry looked away, looked at all of his men, men who did want to see him on the iron throne. He thought about how simple life used to be. He wished it would go back to a time when a game of thrones was not his to play. It was true, he did not want to be king, but his men had given him no choice but to accept his fate.

"I will go to the Wall and grow my forces there while I help to fortify the last barrier we have to what awaits us beyond. I plan to return with men of my own, Gendry. I do not want us to be on opposite ends of each other, I swear it. Too much Baratheon blood has already been spilled. Lady Stoneheart was correct, some of that blood has even been spilled by my hands."

"So, you have come here to warn me? That is your real reason for coming here?"

"One of them, yes. If you were anything but my brother's blood I would not give you such courtesy." He paused for a moment, stepping closer to Gendry. "We could join together, become a powerhouse like none has ever seen before. You and me, Edric and Mya could take the Seven Kingdoms. Our House sigil will fly high once more!"

"You forgot one thing, uncle," Gendry whispered.

Stannis stared at him, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Which is?"

"I am not a Baratheon," Gendry answered. "Neither is Edric or Mya."

"Under ordinary circumstances I would agree with you, but these are dark times with darker days ahead. I can legitimize you, Gendry, something I am sure you have thought of and wanted. I can make it happen."

Gendry waited for him to continue, but he did not. There was more, he could see it in the man's eyes. There was a catch.

"But..." Gendry pressed.

"But...in order for me to be willing to do that, there must be a price to pay. I will legitimize you, Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill, but in return you will swear allegiance to me as the true king of the Seven Kingdoms. You will swear your allegiance to the true king who has the right to sit upon the iron throne."

"You legitimize me and you make me the true heir of Robert Bartheon. I am the eldest son. Why would you do that? You run so many risks doing this, Stannis."

"Not if you swear your allegiance to me and your men are turned over to me. I could make you my heir, Gendry, since I have no sons of my own," Stannis said, his voice calm, yet his eyes burned with his excitement.

They had finally come to the heart of the matter, to the reason Stannis had come. He saw Gendry as a stupid, bull-headed boy that would not know the game if he saw it. He saw forty thousand men for the taking, but Stannis underestimated him. Anger swelled up within him, and he had to fight it back down before it exploded.

"You and your men are welcome to stay for the night. By the morning, you are free to go," Gendry said, turning away from the man. Stannis grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. "There will come a day when you either choose sides or you find yourself holding one of those sides. When I return, I will have the numbers to stand up against any that oppose me, Gendry. I am here, begging that you heed what I say for the sake of our House. An heir to the throne is better than being killed by the one true king that should be sitting on that throne."

"Goodnight, Stannis Baratheon," Gendry said, tearing his arm away from the man's hold. The sun had given way to the moon and stars as he made his way through the camp. As soon as he stepped into his tent, he found Arya sitting on his bed patiently awaiting his return. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him.

"You look tired," she said, softly.

He nodded his head, feeling the weight upon his shoulders grow heavier. Not only did he have Stannis to deal with, but he had not forgotten about Lady Stoneheart. She was still there for him to handle. The thought caused him to feel more tired. He walked towards his bed, sitting down heavily. Arya reached back and began rubbing his back in comfort.

"Edric and Mya?" he asked.

"I have sent them to the inn for the night. Jeyne and Hot Pie will take care of them. Tomorrow, you can go and speak with them whenever you are ready."

He had not even begun to deal with the two who were his half-siblings. He went from having no family to two people to take care of in a matter of hours. His mind turned to the others, the ones killed by the queen and Joffrey, and his stomach lurched in disgust.

"There were sixteen of us, Arya. Sixteen and now there are only three, maybe four. Gods, how do I wrap my mind around that," he breathed.

"There is no way of understanding madness, Gendry."

Gendry slowly laid back on the bed, staring up at the tent's ceiling. What Stannis had told him, everything he had said, played over and over in his mind. Arya sat beside him, as silent as the night. He turned his head towards her, his face showing the battle within him. He reached out, bringing her towards him. She laid her head on his chest, his heart hammering in her ears.

He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he was sound asleep lost in a dream.

He was in a large field surrounded by thousands of men. Before him, a great host of men, women and children stood. In their hands were weapons of all sorts. Their cries filled his ears, causing his breath to hitch. Above them, the sky had turned a ghostly dark, as if smoke hid the blue sky. On one side of him sat Edric and Mya, while on the other side sat Stannis. A banner with a large Stag flew above their heads as they waited patiently. Gendry could feel his excitement and fear mixing together, could smell blood in the air before a single drop was shed.

The host before them raised their weapons in the air, their cries rising in volume. Yet, Gendry and his men remained where they were. They were waiting for something, waiting for the prayer that each of them had said before heading to the field. Would the new and old gods hear their prayers?

Suddenly, the great host before them began charging forward. The horse that Gendry sat upon became spooked. It whined, moving its head up and down. Gendry steadied the large beast, soothing it as best he could, though he felt just as scared as the horse. He could not show his fear, could not let his men see how truly scared he was. He was no warrior, but a blacksmith, yet he found himself on the battlefield.

"LOOK!" one of his men screamed.

Everyone, including Gendry turned to look behind them, even though the danger was coming from their front. At first he could not see a thing, though he felt there was something there. Like mist rolling on top of a lake, his viewpoint was blurred. The men around him began to yell and cry in surprise and excitement. It was then that he felt the ground below him begin to shake. He looked at the hill above them harder, desperate to see what was causing the ground to shake, but still the mist remained. Still, the ground continued to shake, and Gendry continued to stare into the mist.

"We will not die today!" Stannis whispered beside him.

Gendry's eyes shot open as wide as they could go. He jerked up, the feeling of being in battle still lay upon his heart. It wasn't until he felt Arya sit up beside him that he remembered his surroundings. The dream had been so real. Even as he sat in the darkness, he could still see the mist, could still smell the blood in the air. He never saw what made the earth quake, never saw through the mist, but it left him breathless.

"Gendry?" Arya called out, her voice still filled with sleep.

He was still trapped in the memory of his dream, and could not answer at first. He could not answer until his heart had calmed. He could not answer until his breathing evened out. He knew it was not a dream, knew it deep within his heart, yet he could not wrap his mind around what he had just seen. When he found his voice to speak, there was only one thing he could say, only one thing that slipped out, yet it caused his blood to freeze over.

"They're coming," he whispered in the silence of the night.

Chapter 35: Whatever You Desire, You Shall Have

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

"You weren't there," Gendry whispered.

Arya was staring at him and he at her. Grabbing her arm softly, he scooted her towards him, laying his forehead upon hers. The dream kept repeating itself over and over in his head. He remembered the faces of his men. He remembered the faces of Edric and Mya...even Stannis, but Arya's face had been missing. She wasn't there.

"You weren't there," he whispered again.

"Gendry, what's wrong?" she asked softly.

He did not know, though he felt as if he could not breathe. Why had he remembered other faces besides hers? The dream had felt so real. Why had she not bee by his side? He raised his forehead from hers, staring into her grey eyes. He could see a look of concern flowing out of them.

He reached his hand up, holding her cheek softly. "Marry me, Arya. Please. I will give you all in my power to give. I will lay you down in a featherbed, as deep and soft as I can find. I will dress you in the best yellow silk and on your head I will place a crown. Be my lady love and I swear I will be your lord till the day I have no breath left in my body. I will forever keep you safe, and my sword will forever guard you," he pleaded.

Arya did not answer him at first, but continued to stare. He could not read her face, for she was hiding her thoughts from him. Gendry opened himself to her, allowing her to see everything he felt. He allowed her to see his fears and his love. The hand caressing her cheek began to shake.

"No,"she whispered.

"No?" he croaked. He felt as though she had slapped him, as if she had driven a dagger through his chest and into his heart. Arya grabbed his face in between her hands and leaned slowly towards him. Her lips touched the skin on his forehead like smooth silk.

"I do not need a fetherbed, Gendry. I do not need the finest yellow silk, nor do I need a crown on my head. Give me a gown of golden leaves and bind my hair with grass. I need you to be no lord, but my forest love. In return, I will be your forest lass. These things are all that you need to promise me, and if you can do that...I will marry you," she whispered, her lips still touching his forehead.

Gendry's eyes slowly closed, his breath falling from his lips in one quick sigh. Arya had finally said yes. He leaned back, capturing her lips with his, his strong arms wrapping themselves around her small body and bringing her towards him. Arya's hands went around his thick neck. She kissed him back, just a hungry and wanting as he.

"I will give you all that you desire," he said, through his kisses. "Whatever Arya Stark wants, it will be hers.

"I desire only you," she said against his lips.

"And so, you shall have it." A smile began to grow on his lips.

Without a word of warning, Gendry grabbed Arya and stood from the bed. She yelped in surprise, her arms squeezing around his neck to keep from falling. He adjusted her legs around his waste and exited the tent. The moon still hung in the sky, shining brightly down on them. Most of the men were asleep, but some were walking the camp, keeping watch. When they noticed Gendry and Arya, they stopped at once, their faces showing confusion.

"She said yes!" Gendry said loudly.

Arya began to giggle in his ear, hiding her face in embarrassment. The men that stood and watched them began to smile, for they understood what Gendry was talking about.

"SHE SAID YES!" he screamed, surly waking up all in the camp.

The men around them began clapping and hooting in excitement and congratulations. Soon, other men began climbing out of the tent to see what the fuss was about. Some looked alarmed, as if they were expecting an attack, but the moment they saw Gendry holding Arya they relaxed. Before either of them could blink, they were surrounded by well wishers. Gendry allowed Arya to slid down his body, letting her feet touch the cool ground, but not letting her go completely. As he shook the hands of his men, he realized this was the happiest he had ever been. The dream he had had melted away. But no matter how much he tried to shake it, he felt a small ball of dread grow in the pit of his stomach. Nothing had ever been that simple, and he feared that marrying the girl he loved would not be that simple either. He decided to push his mind away from the thought. He would not dwell on negative thoughts, and if something did happen, he would deal with it then.

Gendry watched his men congratulate Arya, but something caught his eye to his left. Turning his face fully to look, he noticed Stannis watching them. The man's face was calm, and a hint of a smile was present. He excused himself from his men, kissing Arya lightly on the temple, and walking towards his uncle.

They stood in shadow, neither speaking for what felt like an eternity. "Your father would have been pleased with this news, I dare say," Stannis finally said.

"Would he?" Gendry said, quietly.

"Like a moth to a flame, a Baratheon is drawn to a Stark. Your father loved a Stark, the girl's aunt to be exact, and that love started a brutal war. Nothing good has ever come from a Baratheon loving a Stark, Gendry."

"I am not my father," Gendry answered.

Stannis turned his face towards Gendry, his blue eyes sparkling in the moon's light. "Yet you have killed in her name before. You have created an army of thousands to avenge her supposed death. You are more like Robert than you realize. It is why these men follow you."

"Is this where you give me advice...uncle?" Gendry said, his words sarcastic.

Stannis' smile was barely visible, there one moment but gone the next. "I doubt you would listen if I did. You are aware that some will look down upon this marriage, for she is a lady and you are no lord?"

"I do not care."

"For her sake, you should. It is the way of the world, Gendry. You are but a hedge knight, but she, she is a lady of House Stark. You have no land, no money. You have nothing to give her as her status requires. You are not a fool, and I know you know this," Stannis said softly.

Gendry felt like he was back in the forge the day Dondarrion came to speak with him. Their conversation drifted to his mind, replaying over and over like a broken record. He had been in this situation before, and the aftermath of that conversation was shattering.

"The last time I listened to someone tell me I wasn't good enough for Arya I let her go. I let her walk away from me and hell is what that decision left in its wake. I let her down, abandoning her in the worst of ways. I will never allow that to happen again. I love her, more than I've loved anything, and I will make her my wife in every way. I will not turn from her again just because I am not a lord. I will give her more than any lord could give her."

"I wish I had half your conviction, Gendry. If that is your choice, then I must give you my congratulations. If you will only think about what I said earlier, about giving me your allegiance and these men, I can give you something in return. I have the power to legitimize you, Gendry. I have the power to make you a lord. I can give lands. I can give you money...anything you desire."

Gendry looked away, shaking his head and chuckling. "I am no lord, nor will I ever be. I am of the forest now, uncle."

Stannis clasped Gendry on the shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I will retire to my tent now. My men and I will leave in a couple of hours for the wall. I pray you will keep your mind opened to what I have said. Our alliance can serve a greater purpose, one that you cannot even fathom. House Baratheon can sit upon the iron throne once more as it should be!" With that, Stannis walked away into the shadows, but before he could completely disappear, he stopped. Turning, he said, "You might be interested to know that your sister Mya is from the Eyrie. She has confided in me about a certain individual who is hiding there. It might be of some importance to your betrothed."

Gendry watched Stannis disappear, his words running through his head. Who could it be? He made a note to ask Mya about it, for it concerned Arya it concerned him as well. He watched Arya with his men for a moment. They all gathered around her, laughing and welcoming her in their midst. It made pride swell within him. He did not care what all of Westeros thought of him marrying Arya as long as his men approved. To him, that was all that mattered. With a long sigh, Gendry turned away from the group realizing he had some unfinished business. He knew she would be awake, for he never knew her to sleep.

He walked in the shadow, until he came across her tent. Two men stood at the entrance, and as soon as they saw him, they bowed their heads. He nodded at them as he passed to enter. She was sitting on her bed, her face looking straight ahead. Gendry stood at the entrance, not wanting to go inside any further. He knew she knew he was there whether she acknowledged him or not. Moments passed in silence as he watched her watching the wall.

"Have you come here to give me my sentence?" Lady Stoneheart said softly.

No matter how angry he was at her, she had been there through everything. A part of him acknowledged this, though he knew she could no longer stay with the Brotherhood. She would never give up her power, never let the men live in peace. He had known this for a while now, but Arya's return had given him strength to do something about it. Still, it did not take away from the fact that she was one of them. He could not throw her out to fend for herself. Lady Stoneheart never asked to be awakened from the dead, never asked to live in her rage. Yes, he was here to give her her sentence, but he had no idea what that was. He sighed heavily, feeling his lack of sleep.

"I have done nothing to warrant such treatment. This is wrong, Gendry. I am the leader of the Brotherhood and you have committed treason! If anyone should deserve to sit in their tent with men guarding them it should be you," she spat.

"Leadership is given where men give it. You taught me that, Lady Stoneheart," Gendry said, calmly.

She finally looked up at him, anger written on her face. "Then, oh brave leader, what will you do with me?" she whispered.

In the moments that passed after she asked her question, the answer finally hit him. It would get her away from the men, yet it would still give her a purpose inside the Brotherhood. She would not like it, but he knew she would go just out of curiosity.

"I am sending you and five hundred of my men with Stannis to the Wall. There, you will be a guest amongst the men., but that is not the reason I am sending you. Lady Stoneheart, Stannis told me something is happening beyond the Wall. The wildlings and white walkers are on the move. They head towards the Wall of ice, but their purpose is not good. You and my men will go and help to fortify the Wall's protection, and when their purpose is known, you will come back here to me and my men and give report. I heed you to accept this, for it is a mercy sentence."

"You think sending me to the Wall is a mercy sentence? I am a woman. They will turn me away. Besides, Stannis will have me murdered the first chance he gets!"

"Not with five hundred men around you. Stannis will not touch you, nor will the men on the Wall refuse you with five hundred men. They will welcome you as a guest. They will fear you as a powerful woman. You know this, Lady Stoneheart. This is what I command of you."

She stared at him. He could see the wheels in her head moving, see that she was interested. "Why? Why the wall?" she asked.

"It is a long journey, one that I hope will quench your need for blood." Gendry walked slowly towards her, sitting on the bed and looking directly at her. Her unnaturally, white skin was illuminated by the glow of the candles. He could not help but to feel sorry for her. No one deserved to live as she had to live.

"The anger and rage will never be sated as yours is. My Ned and Robb are still dead, still rotting corpses. I was not as lucky as you to have them returned to me."

"I know," Gendry said painfully. He reached a hand out, laying it upon her cold one. "But my men and I are on a different course now. The people of the Riverlands need our protection, something we've abandoned on the road of revenge. The hunt for the Boltons and Lannisters will never die away, Lady Stoneheart, but I can no longer allow it to be of the scale that it was. I realize you cannot accept this, nor will I ask you to any longer. I cannot take your rage and anger away, but I cannot allow it to break the Brotherhood apart."

"So, you send me to the Wall instead?"

"Yes," he answered softly.

"Finally, Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill, you have become a true leader," Lady Stoneheart whispered. For a moment, her lips twitched in a smile, but it did not build in to one. She turned her hand over, squeezing his for a moment before letting go. "Leave me. I have a long journey ahead of me and I must rest."

Gendry stood and made his way back out into the night. Most of the men had retired to their tents, but the man he wanted to see was still talking with Arya. He walked towards them, kissing Arya lightly on the head before asking Harwin to follow him. The men excused themselves from Arya and walked away from the camp.

"I need you to choose five hundred men to accompany Lady Stoneheart, Stannis and his men to the Wall. They will leave at dawn, so I apologize for the short notice, but the idea just came to me," Gendry said.

"Five hundred men? You're sending five hundred of our men, and Lady Stoneheart too, with Stannis and his men? Is this really wise?"

"Harwin, there is something coming, something beyond the Wall. I need to know what that something is. I also need to get Lady Stoneheart out of this camp, just for a while, so I can put us back on the right course. If she stays, that will never happen. I do not fear Stannis, for his numbers are less than the five hundred I'm sending. He would be a fool to strike them."

"And if he tries to turn them to his cause? I understand he is blood, Gendry, but I do not know if this plan of yours is wise," Harwin said, his words measured.

"It is a chance I must take. I need answers and I need them fast. The men at the Wall need hands and I have many to give. This is my choice," he said, not leaving any room for argument.

Harwin did not say another word, but bowed and went in search for the five hundred men. Gendry was left in darkness and silence, praying that he was making the right decision.

The next day, Arya made her way towards the inn on the back of Nymeria. When she came into the village, many people stopped and gasped at the direwolf. Nymeria paid them no attention as she took her master towards the door of the inn. Arya had come to tell Hot Pie the news about her and Gendry's betrothal. She had left Gendry with his uncle. The night before, he had told her of his plan to send men to the Wall. He told her of his plan to send Lady Stoneheart to the wall, and the only thing she could think of was the shock on Jon's face when he came face to face with the woman. That was, if Jon was still alive and at the Wall. She had not heard a word about his safety, something that drove hard nails into her stomach. She longed for the day when she could look upon his face again, longed for the day when she could feel him mussing her hair again.

She entered the inn to the chorus of singing from the orphans. They were hard at work, cleaning floors and table tops. The inn was not yet opened to its patrons. Arya went towards the bar, seeing Jeyne and Mya scrubbing the wood. The women looked up at her, smiling lightly. She had not had a chance to talk with Gendry's sister, and the thought of his siblings had her mind reeling. Soon, this girl would be her sister-in-law, so she might as well get to know her.

"Need a hand?" she asked Jeyne.

The girl shook her head no. "Just finishing up. We open in a few moments. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

Arya turned her attention towards Mya, who was staring at her with a thoughtful look. "You look nothing like her," she said softly, speaking her thoughts out loud.

Arya looked puzzled. "Not like who?" she asked.

"I come from the Eyrie, Arya. I knew your sister, Sansa."

The moment the name was spoken, Arya felt the breath leave her body. She stared, wide-eyed, at the girl before her, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "My sister?" she breathed.

"Yes. Before Stannis came and took me away, she and I were friends. She misses you a great deal," Mya said softly.

"She—she is alive?" Arya whispered, the first tear falling from her eyes.

Mya nodded her head. "She is alive, but I do not think she is in any better place at the Vale than she was at King's Landing. She is surrounded by serpents."

Sansa, sweet, beautiful, wonderful, annoying, Sansa was alive. It was the first time since she came face to face with Lady Stoneheart that she realized some of her family were still living. "W—who is there with her? Is she with my aunt?"

Mya hesitated for a moment, causing Arya to fear the worst. Her eyes pleaded with the girl to answer. "There is a new lord of the Vale, Arya."

"A new lord?" she asked, confused.

"Lord Petyr Baelish," Mya answered.

"Lord Petyr Baelish?" Arya spat.

She knew the man from her days at King's Landing. She remembered the way his eyes would slither from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, yet they always moved on to Sansa. She knew the man grew up with her mother and aunt, and had even heard the man was in love with her mother. The thought of Sansa in his clutches caused her anger. Arya vowed right then and there to get her sister out of harms way. If she had to go to the Vale and tear the place to shreds she would. Though her and Sansa had hard feelings between them, the girl was her blood, her family, and she loved her despite their differences.

Hot Pie came from the kitchen, Edric following him. Both boys had their hands full with cups and dishes. Seeing them, made Arya put her sister in the back of her mind, though she would not forget what needed to be done.

"Hi, Arya, where's Gendry?" Hot Pie said in greeting.

"He's bidding his uncle goodbye."

Mya and Edric exchanged glances, a moment of fear passing on their faces. "Gendry is glad to have the both of you stay with him," Arya added, easing their tension. It seemed to do the job as both began to smile.

"What brings you here today?" Hot Pie asked, taking a seat beside her.

Arya bumped his shoulder playfully. "He asked me and I said yes," she answered.

It took Hot Pie no time to understand her words. His eyes went wide, his face lighting up in a smile.

"Asked you what?" Willow said, taking a seat beside her. She had not seen the girl in a few days, and barely had time to get to know her, but she knew the girl was important to Gendry. The anger she had felt towards Willow and their first meeting and calmed. She felt grateful towards the girl, for in her absence she had helped to gap some of Gendry's loneliness.

"He asked me to marry him."

There was a loud clatter from behind the bar and everyone looked over towards Jeyne. She was standing with her back turned to them. The plates she carried in her hands were in ruins on the floor. Arya felt a pang in her chest, for she had forgotten about the girl's feelings for Gendry. She felt no ill will towards Jeyne, and couldn't blame the girl for her attraction to Gendry. Jeyne had never overstepped her boundaries since she had returned, and Arya respected the girl for it.

"Let me help you with that," Edric said, bending down to help pick up the broken pieces. Arya watched him, watched the quick glances he sent Jeyne's way. It was as plain as day to see those glances spoke of his affection towards Jeyne. The girl was too busy looking down to notice. Arya willed her head to look up, willed the girl's eyes to see what was in front of her, but she never did. Perhaps she would put a whisper in Jeyne's ears just to help them along.

The front door came open and the orphans began to squeal and yell at the person who was walking in. They all turned to see Gendry being overrun by the children. He laughed as they collided in to him, hugging his legs, arms and chest. Arya smiled, watching him with the children. It was plain to see that they loved him and he them.

"Why haven't you come to see us?" one of the children asked.

"You used to come all the time!" another yelled.

"Don't you want to play with us anymore?"

The questions continued, until Gendry had talked to every last orphan before him. As soon as they were satisfied, they went back to their chores. Gendry stood and walked towards the bar. He and Arya's eyes met and he smiled a gorgeous smile, taking her breath away. She would wake up to the smile for the rest of her life. He stood behind her, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder as his other hand went out to take Hot Pie's outstretched hand of congratulations. Gendry looked over at Mya and Edric, nodding his head and smiling. He reached over towards Willow, mussing her hair. Arya felt her heart squeeze at that, her mind thinking of Jon again.

"Stop that!" Willow said, trying to sound annoyed but failing. Her smile gave away her true feelings. Jeyne walked towards the kitchen before Gendry could greet her. Arya watched her go before standing and leaving the group to talk amongst themselves as she made her way to follow Jeyne.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw the girl's shoulders heaving. "Jeyne," she called softly.

Jeyne fliched at hearing Arya's voice, and her hands swiped at her face as swiftly as possible. Still, when she turned to face Arya, she could see the tears still in the girl's eyes. "Congratulations, Arya. I truly mean that," she said, her voice full of tears.

"Thank you."

"When is the wedding?" Jeyne said, turning to busy herself with more dishes.

"We haven't talked that through yet, but probably soon. Jeyne—I..." she started but Jeyne stopped her. "Don't," she whispered. "You do not have to say a word, Arya. He never grew to have the same feelings that I did. You were never far from his mind, and there was never room for anyone else. I realize that and will always understand that."

Arya nodded her head. "Thank you, though. You were there for him when I couldn't be. I will always be grateful for that. He cares a great deal for you, Jeyne."

"I know," the girl whispered.

Arya smiled, causing Jeyne to give her a watery smile in return. Arya turned to walk back to the others, but stopped before leaving the room. "You know, there is another who has his eyes only on you. You might want to look up, otherwise you might miss his looks next time."

Arya left Jeyne with a puzzled and surprised look on her face. Gendry was seated at a table with Edric and Mya. They were talking softly, smiles on all their faces. She watched them for a moment. They really did resemble one another, though they were only half-siblings.

"So, when's the big day?" Willow belted out.

She was looking from Gendry to Arya, waiting for an answer.

Gendry looked over towards Arya, smiling softly. "Ask the bride to be," he answered.

Arya rolled her eyes. She should have known he would leave that huge decision to her. She thought about it as all eyes stayed glued to her face. Her eyes were only on Gendry's blue ones. She thought about how much time they had lost. Years they spent away from each other, and she started to feel uneasy. She didn't want to waste any more time.

"A week," she whispered.

Gendry's smile widened. "A week it is, m'lady," he said.

"Gives us enough time to plan a wedding for people to remember!" Mya said, laughing.

"No!" Arya said at once. "I don't want anything big. I—I don't particularly like weddings," she said, an obvious shiver running down her spine.

The room went silent at Arya's outburst. All smiles vanished from their faces as Gendry slowly got to his feet. He walked the distance between them, wrapping his arms around a visibly shaken Arya.

"Oh, I am so sorry," Mya said, horrified. "I did not think before I spoke. Arya, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," she said, barely able to speak. Images assaulted her. Images of blood and dismemberment. Images of her brother's dead body and of her mother's slit throat.

"Hey," Gendry whispered, laying his forehead on hers. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, her misery written in her grey eyes. "It can be just you and me if that is what you want. It will be nothing more and nothing less that what you desire."

Arya kissed him softly, his words calming her immediately. She looked over at Mya, giving the girl a soft smile. She knew she meant no harm. "You knew about what happened to my family?" Arya asked her.

"I—I was there when your sister found out."

Arya felt Gendry flinch. She looked over at him seeing his eyes grow distant. "Gendry?" she called to him, but he did not answer. Instead, he turned from her and walked back towards Mya.

"You are from the Eyrie? Stannis told me you were from there."

"Yes," Mya answered. "I have lived there all my life."

"He said there was someone there, someone of importance to Arya," said Gendry.

"My sister," Arya answered before Mya could.

She watched Gendry's eyes grow distant again, wondering what was going through his head. Suddenly, he shot to his feet and hurried towards Arya. Before she knew what hit her, he kissed her long and deep. "You and I will be married in one week, but I must tend to some business before then." There was excitement in his voice.

"Business? Gendry, what are you up to?" she asked. She eyed him suspiciously.

"Trust me!" he whispered, pleadingly. "I have to go away for a few days, but I will return."

"Go away? Gendry, what is going on?" she asked, her temper rising at his secrecy.

"You will understand when I return. I want you to stay here with the others. I will be back before the wedding," he said, kissing her long and deeply again.

When he let her go, he walked over to Hot Pie. "Take care of them while I am gone! You gave me a promise in Harrenhal, remember?"

"I remember," the boy said, his face looking as confused as Arya felt.

With that, Gendry hurried out of the inn and a while later, he left the Brotherhood's camp with over two hundred men. Arya watched him go, not knowing where or what he was doing.

The days passed slowly by as she worried for his safety, worried about what he was doing. By day, she practiced her Water Dance, missing the way combat made her feel alive. Though she loved being here with Gendry, she missed the action that used to be in her life in Bravvos. She spent the mornings dueling in her head, and at night she helped in the inn. She spent a lot of time with Mya, getting to know the girl and finding that she had made a friend, something she was desperately lacking in. But it was in the dead of night, as others slept, that she sat underneath the stars with Nymeria longing to see Gendry's smile again. Their wedding day was coming up fast, yet he was no where to be found.

"He's okay, isn't he, Nymeria?" she whispered to the direwolf. Nymeria whined in response.

It was the day before her wedding when Arya could take no more of his absence. She climbed atop Nymeria. The direwolf flew through the forest heading towards the Brotherhood's camp. She would demand one of the men to tell her where he was and why he wasn't back. She felt dread, so strong, start to travel throughout her body. Had he come across an ambush? One so large his two hundred men could not overcome? He was a powerful man, everyone in Westeros knew it, and he would be a valuable prisoner. When he came back, she would beat him to a bloody pulp for putting her through this.

"The stubborn, bull-headed boy!" she breathed through the wind whipping around her.

She made it to the camp in record time, heading straight towards Harwin. The men took a step back, eyeing the direwolf warily as it came to a stop before them.

"Where is he?" Arya seethed.

None of the men answered her. "I said where is he!" she yelled.

"M'lady," Harwin started. "Don't," Arya interrupted. "I just need you to tell me where he is, so I can go and flay him!"

Harwin opened his mouth to answer, but the man on lookout burst through the camp. "They're back!" he bellowed. "They're back!"

Arya ran for the path leading to the camp. Sure enough, she saw the host of men galloping towards them. She felt tears in her eyes the moment she saw Gendry's smile. She was both angry and elated that he was coming towards her. First, she would beat him to a bloody pulp, then she would kiss him till she could kiss him no longer.

"Do you have any idea what you've done to me these past few days?" she seethed at him when he came within ear shot. Arya threw her hands up in the air. "Do you have any idea what was going through..."

She stopped, noticing someone riding on the back of his horse. Their face was obscured by a hood, but as they pushed it back, Arya felt her world shift underneath her feet. She could not speak, could not think about anything but the person's face. She watched, wide-eyed, as Gendry climbed from his horse and helped the person down, yet their eye contact was never broken.

Arya was frozen in place as the person walked towards her. Tears blinded her vision, yet she did not look away. She was aware of Gendry watching her, aware of the smile on his face. No words could have ever express how much she loved him in that moment. There was no way of truly showing him what he had just done for her. Arya opened her mouth to speak, but a gasped escaped instead.

The person came to stand in front of them, tears showing in their eyes as well. Though her vision was blurred, she was desperate to drink in the person's face. She was desperate to keep this moment in her memory for as long as she lived. The person did not stop when they came before her, but threw their arms around her and squeezed. Arya grabbed them, slamming her eyes. Tears soaked through her closed eyelids as she began to sob. The person sobbed in her ear as well. She could not believe it, did not think it was possible, yet Gendry had made it possible for her.

Arya's eyes shot open, searching for him. He was standing in front of her, tears in his eyes as well. His chin trembled with the effort to keep from crying, yet his smile remained. "T—Thank you," she cried to him.

She did not give him time to answer, but leaned back and looked into the person's face. Soft hands came up and touched her cheeks softly. They both began to laugh through their sobs. Arya touched the person's hair, seeing it's unnatural, dark color. Though she did not recognize the hair, she would know the face anywhere.

"Sansa," she finally was able to whisper.

Her sister smiled at her, reaching up to kiss her forehead lightly. "It's me, Arya, it's me."

Her sister was here with her, by the gods, she was here. While she was thinking of ways to torture Gendry for putting her through stress in his absence, he had risked his life to bring Sansa to her. It truly was an overwhelming thought.

"Sansa," Arya said again, as she grabbed her sister in a hug once more. It was the only word she could make her mouth say.

Chapter 36: My Wife, My Husband, Our Loss

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Sansa stared at the direwolf bracelet, her eyes wide with wonder. She fingered each charm, whispering the direwolf's name, until she came to Lady. A small gasp escaped her as she raised Arya's wrist to her eyes.

"Lady," she whispered.

"They are all there, all six," Arya said low.

"It is absolutely beautiful. He made this for you?"

"Yes." Arya smiled, pride swelling within her.

The two girls laid in Arya's bed, huddled up to one another. Their faces were inches apart as they whispered their words. Both had cried until they could cry no more. Now, they were exhausted and spent, choosing to tell each other of what had been happening since they took the ill-fated trip to King's Landing. Arya had hung on every word that dropped from her sister's mouth, realizing how much she had missed the sweetness of her voice. Still, Sansa had changed quite a bit. When she talked of Joffrey's murder, the girl actually smiled. It was something that Arya would do herself. Gone was her sweet, innocent sister.

"I am no longer made of silk, Arya, but of strong steel," Sansa whispered.

Arya reached her hand out, smoothing her sister's dark curls back. She saw the sadness in her eyes, saw the innocence that was lost.

"I'm so sorry," Arya responded.

"I'm not. I grew up and learned the world is not what I thought it to be. I—I'm better for it," she said, stuttering.

"You deserve better than Joffrey. You deserve a true knight, someone that will take care of you. I'm glad he's dead."

Sansa smiled a sad smile, closing her eyes for a moment. No words were spoken for what seemed like eternity. Arya was content to just watch her sister.

"There was someone, though it would be someone you wouldn't expect. It is someone I would never have expected," she said, chuckling softly. "I don't really know how it happened, how my feelings grew, but one day I woke up to realize that my heart had softened towards him. By the time the realization hit me, it was too late and he was gone. I—I don't even know where he is," Sansa said, her eyes growing distant.

"Who is he?"

Sansa did not answer at first. She looked away from Arya's stare, her cheeks growing red. "I'm afraid to tell you, for I know how you will react."

"I'm getting married tomorrow! You aren't the only one who has changed. Remember when I said I would never marry? Look at me now."

Her sister took a long, deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "Promise you won't laugh...or be angry?"

"I promise!"

"His name is Sandor Cleagan, but you know him as The Hound," Sansa said so soft that Arya almost missed it. The moment the words made sense in Arya's head, she had wished she had heard Sansa wrong. The breath was knocked from her body. The color drained from her face. The memory of that man, and what she had done to him, floated to her mind and she jumped from the bed in a hurry, desperate to hide from Sansa's eyes.

"Arya?" her sister called to her.

How could she possibly even begin to tell her what she had done? How was she to look in Sansa's face and tell the girl that the man she had fallen in love with was dead because of her? Arya felt like running from the tent. She felt like running and not stopping until she was far from this place.

"You promised you wouldn't be angry!" Sansa cried.

"I am not angry," Arya whispered, her back still turned to the girl.

Sansa climbed from the bed, grabbing Arya's shoulders and gently turning her around. Arya's face looked as miserable as she felt.

"Hey," Sansa soothed, quietly. "You are supposed to be happy on the night before your wedding! Forget I said anything, okay."

"You don't understand, Sansa," Arya said, tears blurring her vision.

"Then help me to," she answered, sitting back on the bed. She kept Arya's hands in her own as she looked up waiting for her to speak. "Tell me what has you so upset."

There was no way out of it. Sansa deserved the truth, deserved to hear what she had done. She deserved to know that because of her, she would never have her knight back.

"Years ago, I left this place in search of mother and Robb. I was there when the Red Wedding took place, Sansa." Her sister visibly flinched at this, but Arya pushed through and continued. "I escaped, just barely, but I did. I ran into The Hou—Sandor Cleagon. He kept me for ransom, thinking he could take me to the Vale. I—I..."

"He was coming to the Vale?" Sansa gasped. "He was that close to seeing me again?" Her eyes went wide, only making it that much harder for Arya to speak the truth.

"He would have never made it," Arya said, her chin trembling.

"Why?"

"We ended up at an inn and he got into a fight with some men there. He was wounded pretty badly. I took care of him for days, but the wound was enough to..."

Sansa slammed her eyes shut, her face crumbling in pain. Arya averted her eyes, not able to watch what her choices were doing to her sister. Though her and Sansa had had their share of rough times, seeing her pain killed a piece of Arya.

"D—Did he die? Did you stay with him until the end?" her sister whispered.

"No," Arya breathed, the first tears falling from her eyes. "I left him there to die alone. I had lost everything. I was broken in every way a person was broken, and I was eat up with rage. My rage and hatred towards him allowed me the strength to walk away when I could have helped him."

The moment the words were out in the open, the air inside the tent deflated. Arya felt a cold draft seep in around her, causing her to shiver. Sansa just stared at her, her eyes big and round. Tears floated to the surface, swimming before Arya to see. Her mouth hung open slightly, yet her chest did not move with air.

"You left him to die? He was still alive and you left him?" she said, her eyes growing wider.

Arya turned away from her sister, walking to the other side of the tent. She could not take that look, the one that accused her of crushing her sister's heart. "I'm so sorry," Arya pleaded.

It was a long time before another word was spoken. Both girls were trapped in their misery, in their pain. Arya heard Sansa rise from the bed, but she refused to turn around to face the girl. She expected her to walk out, never to speak to her again, but suddenly she felt hands pull her around. Sansa's face was covered with tears, yet she did not look mad. Before Arya could think, her sister wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight. Arya grabbed her sister, crushing the girl to her.

"You don't hate me?"

Sansa shook her head no. "We have lost too much to hate one another, Arya. Maybe the girl that I used to be would hate you, but the girl I am now desperately needs her sister. Whatever wrong you did against me by leaving him to die does not change how much I love you."

Arya cried out at her sister's words, tightening her hold. She would not have dared hoped for Sansa to take the news this way. It was the first time that Arya could remember hearing her sister say that she loved her.

"Besides, if he did not die in front of you, I dare say he is not dead at all," Sansa sniffed, chuckling.

Arya joined in. "You might just be right."

Arya leaned back, looking into her sister's face. The girl still held pain, yet she held hope as well. Arya could not believe it, but she hoped that The Hound was alive as well. Somewhere out there, he could possibly be waiting to return to Sansa. "He loved you too, you know. When I nursed his injuries, he called out your name. It gave him comfort to think I was you."

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, hearing Arya's words. "Good," she whispered. "Now, let us get you back in bed! You have a big day tomorrow!"

Arya could see her sister trying to smile and ease the tension, but the pain still remained in her bright eyes. She tried to hide it, just as she always tried to hide her pain. It was no use though, Arya could see straight through her.

As the night grew late, the two sisters talked of lighter moments. They laughed about old memories past, of Winterfell and their parents' laughter. When horrible memories would rear its ugly head, the girls would grow quiet until one of them could lighten the mood with something funny Robb used to do, or something funny Jon would say. When tears pricked at their eyes, they would grab hands, fighting against the pain together.

Sansa was the first to drift off to sleep. Arya watched her for a moment, watching her beauty. She had always been the beautiful one, and no matter how much steel she became, she would forever be the beauty of them both. Even the dark hair color could not take that away from her. Even the old bruises could not take that away from her.

Suddenly, she heard something hit the flap of the tent. Arya's head shot up, looking towards where the sound came from. She listened for a few moments, but heard nothing else. Laying her head back down, she closed her eyes to try and get some sleep, but the sound was heard again. Her head shot up, her eyes squinting as she listened. Still, there was nothing else to hear. She sat up on the side of the bed, slowly, as to not wake Sansa. After a few moments, the sound was heard again.

Arya stood from the bed, slowly making her way towards the entrance of the tent. Her foot stepped on something hard and she bit her lip to keep from screaming out. Looking down, she noticed small pebbles littering the floor. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. Something whirled through the tent, hitting her on the arms.

"Ow!" she hissed loudly, not able to hold it in.

"Oh shit! Arya, I'm sorry."

"Gendry?" Arya seethed, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

A hand came through the flap of the tent, moving it just slightly. Gendry was standing with his back turned to her.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"It's bad luck to see you before the wedding."

Arya rolled her eyes, pushing passed the flap and going to stand before him. His eyes were shut tight. "That's just stupid," Arya said, chuckling.

"No, it's tradition."

She reached up, grabbing his face gently. He sighed at the touch of her. His mouth began to grow in a glorious smile, reminding her of what she would be waking up to for the rest of her life. Arya leaned in to him, softly touching his lips with hers. The moment she did that, his arms came around her, holding her closely to him. Gendry deepened the kiss, causing butterflies to flutter in Arya's stomach.

Gendry broke the kiss, leaning his cheek upon hers. He inhaled long and deep. "You still have your eyes closed, do you not?" she asked. "Yep!" he answered, popping his p.

"What if I told you I was wearing something naughty?" she whispered.

He groaned, clasping one hand over his eyes, while feeling down her side with the other. Arya slapped his hand away, laughing. "You will be the death of me, woman," Gendry said, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

She put her fingers over his lips to silence him. "Please, do not ever say that again," she pleaded. Gendry's eyes slid open. They looked at Arya, concern written on his face.

"Don't you know by now? It is not possible for someone that gives me such life to be the death of me, Arya." He lifted her hands up to his lips, kissing them gently. His eyes remained open and stared at her. "This time tomorrow, you will be my wife and I will be your husband. I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how alive you make me feel. Will you meet me tomorrow? Will you still be my forest lass?" he whispered.

Arya threw her arms around his neck, drinking in the scent of him, the scent that was forest and something that only spoke of Gendry. "Yes, I will meet you tomorrow and be your forest lass."

He kissed her once more, before turning to walk away. She watched him go, watched the shadows around him swallow him whole. Silence fell around her, and for a moment she listened to it grow. No longer did it drive her mad. No longer did she feel as though she were lost within its depths. For the first time since she could remember, she took comfort in the silence around her.

The next morning started with a frenzy of running women. From one side of the camp to the other, they fetched items here and there. Ayra sat on her bed, watching Sansa and Mya act as though it was their wedding. They fussed over how to do her hair and what she would wear. Arya just shook her head, laughing at the way they acted. She knew Gendry would not care how she wore her hair, or what she wore as a dress, though she realized she didn't have anything to wear. For a moment, she began to panic, but then she calmed down by reminding herself that Gendry would marry her in a cloth sack if that's what she wanted.

"Bathe! We need to bathe!" Sansa shrieked. "Calm down, there is a river near by," Arya said softly.

At once, the girls had her on her feet and pushed her out of the tent. They made sure to keep her out of eyesight of Gendry and the men, who were busy preparing a small area for the wedding. She could hear them hammering away, their laughter and talk floating to her ears. It made her smile. The girl's dove into the river, splashing and swimming with ease. For a moment, it felt as if it were a normal day. Even Sansa and Mya seemed to calm down. Arya dove underneath the water. A memory floated to the surface, a memory of the darkest part of her life, when she wanted to give in to her misery and pain.

She floated down as far as she could go, searching for something. When she righted herself, she kept afloat underneath the murky water, lost in the memory. It dawned on her what she was searching for. She had left Arya Stark underneath the water that day, never to be her again. But fate would have it otherwise. Gendry had found her again, had helped her to find the person she truly was. So this time, when she left Arya Stark underneath the water, it wasn't due to pain she could not handle. It was due to the fact that she would be his wife, she would be Mrs. Arya Waters. This time, she would not lose herself, but gain a happiness she thought was lost to her. When her lungs screamed for air, she did not fight against them, but pushed herself back to the surface. When she broke the surface of the water, Sansa and Mya did not seem to notice. Again, Arya could not help but smile.

When their bath was over, the girls hurried back to the tent. As soon as they walked in, they froze. Arya stared at her bed, her eyes growing wide. Something was laying across the sheets, and Arya felt her breath hitch. She pushed passed Sansa and Mya, standing before her bed. A piece of paper lay on the thing that held her attention, and Arya reached out to read it.

"Let's go back to the start. All my love...Gendry," Arya whispered.

There, lying before her on the bed, was an acorn dress. Arya picked the dress up, holding it to her chest as if it were the most precious thing to her. She could not help the bubble of laughter that broke through her mouth, nor could she stop the tears in her eyes. It was absolutely amazing.

"It's an acorn dress," Sansa said, her words filled with disgust.

"It's perfect," Arya said softly.

She turned to the women, motioning for them to help her in it. Although they looked as if they didn't want to, they helped her anyway. The dress was different than the first acorn dress. This time, instead of real acorns, there was a acorn pattern sown into the material. From top to bottom, Arya was covered in the dreaded acorns, but this time, she felt like the most beautiful woman in Westeros. The dress signified everything that they almost let slip away. It was a reminder of the day they let everything shatter, yet it also was a reminder that a new beginning was possible. By Gendry giving her this dress to wear on their wedding day, he was letting her know that sometimes even shattered glass was fixable.

When the dress was on, the girls moved to Arya's long hair. They had taken grass from the forest, just as she had told them to, and began braiding her long tresses. It took them hours to finish, but the final result was breathtaking. Her hair was braided down her back, with ringlets shaped around her face. Arya had never felt beautiful, yet in that moment, that was all she could see. She. Was. Beautiful.

"He will be completely floored," Mya whispered to her.

"Knock, knock!" said Hot Pie.

He walked into the tent, and the moment he saw Arya, he froze in place. His eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open. "Arya?" he breathed. Suddenly, she felt self conscious. Perhaps she had went a little overboard. Maybe she should have kept it simple, like the acorn dress.

"You look stunning," He said, his eyes still wide.

Arya looked up at him sheepishly. She rolled her eyes, not used to so much attention. For a moment, she thought of going to Gendry and telling him to just have the wedding in the tent, just her and him, but she knew he had spent all day preparing the space for the wedding.

"Shut up," she said, half joking.

"No, Arya, I mean it. You really look stunning. Gendry is going to lose it when he sees you."

"You think so?" she asked shyly.

Hot Pie nodded his head. "I know so." He stepped towards her, his arm out for her to take. "Your escort awaits, m'lady."

Arya had asked Hot Pie days ago to take her down the aisle. Her father was not here to do the honor. At the thought of him, Arya felt a pang in the pit of her stomach. There would be only one Stark family member here to see her big day. She turned her eyes towards Sansa seeing the same sadness in the girl's eyes that she felt.

"They all would be proud of you," Sansa whispered.

With that, She reached over, giving Arya a kiss on the cheek. She walked out of the tent on the verge of tears. Mya hugged her neck, following her sister out. It just left her and Hot Pie.

"I wish Weasel was here to see this," he said softly.

Arya looked at him, laying her hand on his heart. "She is," she responded, pushing the words past the lump in her throat. "She is surrounding this day."

Hot Pie picked her hand up, kissing it lightly. "Yes, she is," he whispered.

As they walked out of the tent, Arya took a long breath to calm her nerves. The images of the Red Wedding decided at that moment to make an appearance in her head. As soon as she took the first steps towards her own wedding, she saw the gruesome sight of the Great Room. She saw the dead at her feet, the wall written in blood. Arya slammed her eyes closed, staggering to a stop. Her worst fears were coming true. Her memories were outshining her happiness, drowning her in blood.

"Arya?" Hot Pie called to her worriedly.

His voice was but a whisper amongst the screams she could hear. Her brother stood before her, his head missing. Her mother was there, a slash in her throat. Arya gasped and moaned, trying to push the images aside, trying to find Gendry in her mind, but they were too strong. The same thing would happen to her wedding. She and everyone present would be swept away in death, she could just feel it.

"Arya, talk to me!" Hot Pie said, loudly.

She could not talk, but could only take a step back. She moved away from him towards the tent. They were all coming towards her, all the men she saw die that day. Their hands were outstretched trying to touch her. She needed to run, needed to get as far away from the Twins as she could.

Suddenly, something broke through the images before her. It was a smell. It smelled of forest and something that spoke just of Gendry. A hand softly touched her face, as strong arms went around her waist. All at once, she felt protected, felt love. The images of the day at the Twins began to melt away. Arya slowly opened her eyes, looking into blue eyes, as blue as the ocean from which she knew they were made. Gendry was there before her, holding her tightly to him.

"I remember the first time I saw you. I daresay that I loved you even then," he whispered to her, calming her more. "I have never met anyone like you. You...take...my...breath...away."

It was in that moment when the fear and horror let her go. Gendry was here, and he always made it better. He never looked away from her, even when she sighed, signaling that the images had let up their hold on her.

"Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife today, Arya?"

She nodded her head yes. With that, Gendry turned them towards Thoros, who would be marrying them today. All eyes were on her, yet she could not find it in her to care. All she knew was the smell of the man beside her. All she knew was the strong arms that surrounded her. All she knew was that today she would become his wife. Instead of Hot Pie taking her down the aisle, it was Gendry. Side by side, they walked to meet Thoros.

Arya and Gendry turned to look at each other, never letting their hands go. He looked down at her wrist, thumbing the direwolf bracelet. A small smile played upon his lips. Arya was able to get a good look at him. He stood before her in a white, crisp shirt. He wore black pants, bringing out the white of his shirt even more. His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, as his hair, as deep as midnight, was combed from his forehead. She had never seen him look more handsome than he did in that moment.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, as if reading her thoughts.

Thoros began the ceremony with words of love and devotion. Half of what he said, Arya missed, for her thoughts and attention were solely on Gendry. Nothing seemed to exist outside of his face.

"I, Gendry Waters, promise to take you, Arya Stark, as my wife. From this day forward, I will hold only unto you, loving and protecting all that you are. You are my life, my love and my best friend. No one will come before you in my life. It will always and forever be you and me," he said softly.

"I, Arya Stark, promise to take you, Gendry Waters, as my husband. From this day forward, I will hold only unto you, loving and protecting all that you are. You are my life, my love and my best friend. No one will come before you in my life. It will always and forever be you and me," she whispered, not able to speak any louder. She cursed the tears in her eyes, cursed her weakness, but seeing Gendry's smile made it as though it didn't matter.

He picked her hand up, and on her ring finger he placed a simple gold band. Arya's head shot up, her eyes growing wide. "I stayed up all last night making it for you," he whispered. She felt horrible, for she had nothing to give him in return. She should have known he would have come prepared, as he was always the logical one. He placed a matching gold band in her hand quickly, winking. Arya rolled her eyes, laughing softly, yet she picked his hand up and placed the ring on his ring finger.

"By the power placed upon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Gendry, you may kiss your bride," Thoros said happily.

With a shout of excitement, Gendry picked Arya up in his arms, crushing his lips to hers. Around them, the men began to shout and yell their congratulations. Gendry and Arya ignored them as they deepened the kiss. He twirled her around as she laughed against his lips.

"My wife," he whispered.

"Always."

The reception started with dancing and music. The men soaked up the excitement and happiness, for it had been forever since they had something to celebrate. Tom Sevenstrings provided the songs as everyone began to partner for a dance. At once, Gendry took Arya to the makeshift dance floor of soft grass.

"I can't dance," she said.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, as he took her hand in his other hand. "I won't let you fall," he whispered.

He leaned down, snuggling his nose into her neck as he began to twirl them around. Arya closed her eyes, putting her trust completely in him. He was true to his word, as she had did not fall once. She danced, until she could not dance any longer. She laughed, until she felt her lips would fall off. Was it possible that the bad was over? Could there truly be a happy ending after all?

"What are you thinking about?" he asked against her ear.

She didn't answer for a moment, too caught up in her emotions that had been running wild all day. Here she was, standing in Gendry's arms, in her husband's arms. Three years ago, something like this was impossible in her mind, yet she could not deny its existence. She felt overwhelmed, overwhelmed and grateful.

"I was just thinking how, even though I gave up on my father's gods and my mother's gods as well, they never gave up on me," she whispered.

His hold tightened. "They never gave up on me either."

Arya leaned back, staring at him. She reached up, touching his cheek lightly. "How will I ever begin to repay you for saving me in every way possible?"

Gendry laid his hand on top of the one touching his cheek. "Promise to always love me. We will start with that."

"You and me," she said, smiling.

"You and me."

Suddenly, they were surrounded by men. They grabbed Gendry from Arya, raising him above their heads. His laughter rang out, and Arya couldn't stop her laughter from joining his. They hoisted him around, singing songs of thanksgiving and joy. His men, men that pledged their life and loyalty to Gendry.

"It is time for the wedding night," Thoros announced. "Men, if you will take Gendry into his tent to ready him for his wife. Ladies, please do the same for Arya."

Arya, Sansa and Mya watched as they carried Gendry off in a chorus of shouts and yells. He was still hoisted above their heads, his laughter reaching Arya's ears and making her smile. Sansa looped her arm in Arya's, while Mya did the same on the other side.

"What? I do not get hoisted in the air like Gendry?" she said playfully.

"No. It is just for the men to congratulate themselves on being masters of the world," Sansa said, rolling her eyes.

"So, what happens now?"

"Now, we take you back to the tent to get you ready for your husband, Arya. The men will come to retrieve you when the time is right. They will bring you to Gendry and there, you will lay with him as husband and wife," Sansa answered softly.

The thought had Arya's cheeks burning. The butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of lying with Gendry. He would be her first and only.

They entered the tent and the girls giggled as they talked of Arya going to her husband. "Shut up," she said, her cheeks burning brighter. They sat her on the bed as they began to take her hair down. It flowed down her back in curls from being braided with the grass. Arya heard the flap of the tent move, as someone entered. She was still laughing when she noticed the way Sansa and Mya looked towards the newcomer. Their smiles slowly slipped from their faces.

Arya turned at once, seeing someone watching them. He was dressed in all black, a large sword at his side. Arya felt the hair on the back of her neck rise on end. She stood from the bed, watching the familiar face, yet she could not place him yet.

"You made a beautiful bride, Arya. My apologies for watching from a distance, but your beauty was stunning even from afar."

His voice was deep, yet it triggered a memory in her mind. She was fifteen again, walking amongst the brotherhood. She had just torn the acorn dress from her body and branded more comfortable clothing. She was getting a look that could kill from the woman who had dressed her, and he had come out of nowhere. Arya's eyes went wide when his face floated to her mind. He was older, yet his long, blond hair and deep blue eyes, so deep they looked purple, had not changed.

"Edric Dayne?" she said, surprise in her voice.

"Hello, love," he said, smiling.

The smile caused her stomach to jump, but it was not the same feelings that Gendry caused within her. This feeling was foreboding. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to remain calm. Behind her, she could feel nervousness coming off Sansa and Mya in waves.

"I need the two ladies behind you to come to me, please."

Stall! Whatever you do, stall, she heard Gendry's voice whisper in her head.

Her sword was underneath her pillow, just a breath away from her. She shot a quick glance towards it, wondering if she could make it in time. If it was only her in the tent, she would have already reached for it, but with Sansa and Mya with her, she did not want them in harm's way. Arya desperately wished for the men to hurry to get her.

"Arya, we do not have much time, and my patience is not what it used to be," he said, low.

As quickly as she could, she dove for her pillow, grabbing the sword in her hand and raising towards Edric. He did not move, did not look as though he was concerned. That made Arya worry all the more. In the blink of an eye, as fast as she had ever seen anyone move, Edric's hand flew towards them. Something flew from his palm, something that sparkled in the candle light.

The substance struck Arya in the face, causing her to stumble forward, straight into Edric's arms. Her skin began to tingle. Her muscles began to tighten until she found it difficult to pull away from him. Behind her, she heard Sansa and Mya fall to the ground. She tried to turn her head, but her body would not cooperate with her. Gendry's voice exploded in her mind, telling her to fight. She could not so much as move a finger, much less fight.

"She will not be happy, but you are the next best thing. Besides, I have not stopped thinking about you for three years, Arya. You will be my prize to her, yet you will be mine," Edric whispered.

He caressed her cheek, lowing down to kiss her gently. Arya was completely paralyzed and could not stop it from happening. She could not even speak to scream for help. Whatever he had threw upon her had immobilized her.

"Do not worry, my love. The effects of the potion will wear off, but by that time, we will be far away from this place."

Arya was thrown over his right shoulder, the screaming from the Gendry in her head becoming louder. She was completely and utterly helpless. He jerked around, his black cloak flying about him. Arya was able to get a full view of the room. Sansa and Mya were lying on the floor, their wide and fearful eyes watching her. Tears streamed down her sister's face.

Edric stormed out of the tent. Arya was facing Gendry's tent. The men were just now making their way towards her. She tried to open her mouth, tried to scream at the men, but nothing would come out. She was forced to watch them silently. Their laughter floated to her eyes, Gendry's laughter. Suddenly, his face came in to view. Arya begged him to look at her, begged him to see what was happening. He was standing at the entrance of the tent, talking and laughing with his brother Edric.

"Help me," she was able to croak.

Edric Dayne sped up his walk, staying in the shadows. "Now, now, love...do not go and alert them to what is happening. You are stronger than even I imagined," he whispered.

A loud rustling sound could be heard in the direction they were walking, though Arya could not turn her head to look. She slammed her eyes shut, focusing all her strength to scream. She willed her mouth opened, willed her vocal cords to work. Her eyes flew open at the exact moment her mouth fell open.

"GENDRY!" she screamed with all the power she could muster.

The laughter ceased at once. The men turned their faces in the direction of where Edric Dayne was carrying her. Gendry tore through the men standing before him, for he had recognized her voice at once.

"Arya?" he called out.

The moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the space around them. Arya was staring straight at Gendry and he at her. His eyes grew wide as he saw her being carried away. Edric Dayne broke out in a sprint, leaving Gendry and his men behind them.

"ARYA!" Gendry howled.

She was thrown on the back of a large creature. It was as black as the night around her, and in her position, she could not make out what it was. Edric Dayne jumped on behind her, screaming for the beast to fly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as long, black wings stretched out. The beast made a deafening scream as it rose itself on long legs.

"Arya!" Gendry screamed again.

She was lying on her stomach, but she was in a position to see Gendry and his men break through the line of trees. At once, each and every man stopped in their tracks, their eyes growing wide as their mouths hung open in shock.

"GO, DROGON, GO," he screamed at the beast.

Arya felt herself being lifted from the ground on the giant beast. But the beast was not finished with the men on the ground. He turned his body around, his mouth coming open in a loud scream. Gendry and his men covered their ears, some crying out in fear of what they were seeing. Arya and Gendry stared at one another, his face showing his helplessness. He could no more get to her than she could move a muscle.

Suddenly, Arya felt the heat of hot flames licking at her skin. Her eyes went wide, a scream piercing her heart as she watched the flames shoot towards the large trees in front of them. The men below were trapped as fire and large limbs rained down from above.

"NO! I SAID FLY!" Edric Dayne screamed, jerking the beast's head to the sky.

Gendry paid no attention to what was coming down around him, for his eyes were only on Arya. Her eyes shot away from him, watching as a good chunk of a tree was heading straight for him and the men around him. She tried to scream, tried to warn him, but her voice had stopped working completely. Arya was forced to watch as the large chunk of tree landed on Gendry and his men, smothering them in smoke and fire.

They flew further and further into the air on a beast she could not see, yet she could hear. Its shrieks were deafening, speaking of power and things she dared not think of. This was a dream, it had to be, for this was her wedding night. It was not supposed to be this way! She was supposed to be with Gendry as his wife, not flying higher and higher into the sky.

Yet, as the last of her strength faded from her body, and darkness taking her over, she could not get the image of the large chunk of tree falling down on top of her husband. There was no way Gendry and his men could have survived it.

As Arya gave in to the darkness, her heart full of agony, one question floated through her mind.

Where in the seven hells am I being taken to, and who awaits me this time?

Chapter 37: Revelations

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya awoke as she felt the creature set them down on the ground again. Edric gently scooped her into his arms, walking towards a large castle. Her eyes were open, yet she refused to speak to him. Even as one question after the other fell from his mouth, she was planning a slow death for him in her mind. She glared at him with her eyes, begging her body to work properly again. He looked down at her with his purple-looking eyes, his mouth breaking out into a smile.

"I know what you are thinking love, but if you will give me time, I will make you love me as I love you," he whispered.

The shadow of the large front door fell upon her as he walked her through. Arya felt the feeling slowly coming back in her fingers and toes. She could barely wiggle them, but it was a start. She would concentrate all her power on each limb until she was able to stand and fight on her own. Desperation clouded her mind as she thought of watching the large chunk of tree fall on Gendry and his men. Her mind was telling her there was no way he could have survived such a thing, yet her heart was telling her he was still alive. For now, she would hold true to her heart.

"What is this?" said a voice before her. "What is this?" the voice said louder.

"Dany, let me explain," Edric said, his voice sounding a little nervous.

Arya forced her head to move. It did, but just an inch. It was enough to see a woman standing at the end of a large room. The walls of the room were made of black granite, as black as the floors below her. The woman was seated on a throne, but she began to rise. Slowly she rose, until she was standing fully above them.

"What have you done?" she whispered, her eyes growing wide.

Her eyes shot towards Arya, both women staring at one another. She pleaded with the woman, pleaded for her help.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" the woman screamed.

Edric stopped suddenly at her scream. Arya heard him swallow, his hold on her tightening. The woman moved at once, hurrying out of Arya's vision. One minute, she was gone, but the next, she stood inches from Arya's face. She placed something on the ground, motioning for Edric to sit her upon it. He did as the woman bid, lying Arya on the softest pillows she had ever felt.

They moved away from her, standing before her. Edric's back was turned to her, yet she could see the slight shake of his shoulders. Was he afraid of this woman? Should she be afraid of this woman? Arya raised her eyes to look at her. She had long, white-blond hair. Her face was as beautiful as Arya had ever seen a face be. She had full lips, and the gown she wore flowed, as if made by clouds.

"Who is she and where is the Bull that rides the Wildfire?" the woman seethed.

"I could not get to him. His men surrounded him most of the night. If I would have tried, they would have killed me, no matter if they would have recognized me. Thoros would not have been able to save me.

Thoros?

The woman turned her eyes towards Arya again, anger bleeding out of them. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Arya, of House Stark," Edric answered. "And I want her," he added softly.

The woman's face shot to Edric, the anger growing higher. "Stark? As in Eddard Stark?"

"Yes, the very same one, sweet aunt. I arrived too late to stop the wedding, but I took the girl just before she went to lay with her husband."

The woman's hand shot out, grabbing Edric's throat. It squeezed the flesh for a moment, before she blew a breath out. She released him and began to pace. "Why? Why would you take the girl! Your orders were to go to the man named Gendry and tell him of my desire to speak with him! You were not to have TAKEN THE GIRL!"

"It is the next best thing. Send a raven to let him know of your desire to see him. He will do as you wish. I took the girl, because I want her for myself!"

Arya flinched at his words.

"You want her for yourself?" the woman hissed. "Do you have any idea what you have done by taking her! I need the Bull's alliance. I need his men, but you have made us an enemy! You are right, nephew, he will come, but with his fury and vengeance! Release the girl and pray I can quiet the Bull's anger!"

"You should not fear him. You have your dragons. What does he have? Mortal men."

"He has the alliance of forty thousand men and most of Westeros!" she screamed. "He has everything I need, yet you do not think of this. You are more like your father than I thought!"

"Do not speak of my father," Edric growled.

The woman walked slowly to stand in front of him. Her eyes bore in to his, her chest heaving in anger. "I will speak of my brother how I wish. You are just as big a fool as him! You know the story, Aegon! You know what his love for a Stark girl cost him!"

"Aegon?" Arya whispered, surprising even her own self that she could speak.

Both the woman and Aegon turned to look at her, for they had heard her whisper. The woman bent before her, brushing Arya's long hair away from her face. "Are you hurt, child?" she asked softly, her voice as velvet.

"No," Arya said softly. Feeling continued to grow within her body. She could raise her arm slightly, move her leg just a bit. "Aegon? Aegon Targaryen?"

"That's right, Arya. I'm Daenarys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. The man that took you is my nephew, the lost prince Aegon Targaryen."

Arya felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. She had heard the stories of her aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. She had heard of how he had kidnapped her, causing King Robert's fury to start a war in her name. Blood had been shed throughout Westeros, yet it was for nothing as Lyanna had died in Arya's father's arms. Could it be possible that history was repeating itself?

"Aegon is dead!" Arya hissed, not believing it.

"That is what some would want you to believe, but it is true. He lives, though I question his good sense at the moment," Daenarys said, her eyes shooting toward Aegon. He looked away, his face growing red in shame.

"Let me go, or history will repeat itself," Arya pleaded.

"No harm will come to you, I swear it! You will be released to Ser Gendry when he arrives. My nephew will apologize and speak nothing of his true intentions."

"Like the seven hells I will," Aegon seethed. "I have thought of nothing but her for three years! Now that she is here, I will not let her go! Why do you fear this Bull so much? You have dragons, sweet aunt, you should be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, instead of fearing someone's wrath.

Daenarys stood to her feet, watching Aegon for a few moments without speaking. "You have no clue, do you?" she whispered. "Yes, I have dragons, but to take what is mine I would have to take it in fire and blood. What kind of ruler would I be? There is a way to do this right, Aegon, and keeping the girl is not that way! As I said before, I need Ser Gendry on my side. I need his numbers behind me! It is not weakness or fear that stays my hand, but it is the love of my people!"

"You can have all that you desire, but the girl is to stay with me! She is his wife, and will only get in the way of your plans. You should be wanting me to keep her."

Daenarys turned to look at Arya again. Her eyes grew distant for a moment. "His wife?" she asked.

"Yes," Aegon answered.

"Was the marriage consummated?"

"No. I stole her away before she went to his bed."

Daenarys began pacing again, her hands wringing in the silk cloth of her gown. Her long hair swished back and forth with her movement. "So, my plan may still work. Only if I can calm the Bull. Aegon, send a raven to Ser Gendry. Tell him to come here and that the girl is unharmed. Tell him she is not my prisoner but awaits his arrival."

"Dany..."

"Do it!" she commanded.

"Why are you doing this to me? I have pledged my everything to you! I have given up my claim to the throne for you and your dragons, and yet you deny me the only thing I want! Why?" Aegon bellowed.

"She is not yours to claim, not yet! If Ser Gendry agrees to my plan, then she will be free to be with whomever she wants. Until that time, you are to treat her as a guest. You leave her be!"

"What plan?" Arya asked, her skin pricking with foreboding.

Both Daenarys and Aegon turned to look at her. "The claim to the throne is mine, but the people wish to have Ser Gendry on the throne. I will propose marriage to join both of our Houses and to have the people's approval. If he wants this done peacefully, he will have no choice but to accept. I—I am truly sorry, Arya," Daenarys said softly.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

"Push, men! Puuuuush!" Harwin screamed.

Gendry laid his hand against the large chunk of tree that fell upon him and his men. When it had fallen, he had thought he had moved far enough away, but he never expected it to roll. Now, he found himself on his back, his leg stuck underneath. The blazing fire inched its way towards him. The pain shooting through his body could be seen on his face. Sweat poured from his brow as his eyes closed and his jaw clinched.

"Get it off, now!" he yelled to the men.

He could feel the flames licking at his skin, could feel it burning him already. Just a few more minutes and he would burn in the orange flames. The pain intensified, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. He wanted to pass out, just to escape the hot flames and pain.

More men joined the ones already trying to move the chunk of tree. They turned their backs, grabbing a part of the tree that wasn't on fire and heaved upwards with their backs.

"That's it, men, just like that!" Harwin boomed.

Gendry could feel the pressure on his leg begin to ease, but the flames were inches from him now. It would lick his left arm first and climb towards his face. He felt his hair begin to singe at the closeness of the flames. His chest heaved, his blue eyes growing wide. Gendry grabbed his trapped leg, grinding out a growl of unimaginable pain.

In the last moments, before the flames reached him, Gendry felt someone grab him from behind and pull. His leg came free of the chunk of tree, and he felt the coolness of the night again. At once, his men surrounded him to survey the damage. He could do nothing but close his eyes and allow the darkness to take over.

"If we do not stop the bleeding, he will lose that leg!" Someone screamed above his head. Gone was the night sky, but a tent above his head. He could hear several people moving around him. Their movements spoke of their frantic state. Gendry could barely open his eyes, so he chose to close them once more and drift back into darkness.

The next time his eyes opened, he could see Harwin and Thoros sitting at his side. The men were talking, but their words were a jumbled mess in his mind. Had he lost his leg? He was too weak to search for the answer. His body screamed for the darkness again, so he gave in once more.

Twice more after that, Gendry tried to rouse from the darkness, but he was weak. Each time, he would hear soft voices speaking around him, yet it was not the voice he wanted to hear, that he needed to hear. In the hands of darkness, he replayed Arya being taken from him over and over. Gendry was in his own personal hell. Not even the pain from his leg could cut as deep as his failure to protect her for a second time.

Finally, it seemed as if his mind was clearing. He could see light shining behind his closed eyelids. Voices rose in volume, becoming more pronounced to where he could tell them a part.

"He is stirring," someone whispered closed to his right side.

Gendry groaned as he moved his head from side to side, his eyes coming open slowly. It was day by the looks of the light shining through the tent. His hand came towards his face, though it took in a few moments to get control of his movements. His arms felt as if they weighed a ton.

"It is the Milk of the Poppy, Ser Gendry. It will ease its hold on you momentarily.

"Milk of the Poppy?" Gendry said, his voice hoarse.

"We had to give it to you. Your pain was unbearable, and we needed you to rest to gain your strength back."

Gendry looked over to Thoros. The man looked as if he had not slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot. Hair had begun to grow on his chin.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"T—two weeks," Thoros answered, his words barely visible.

Gendry stared at the man, not believing what the man had just said. "Two weeks?" he croaked.

Two weeks that Arya had been taken. Two weeks that she was with gods knows who. Two weeks that he had been flat on his back while she could have been tortured or worse...killed. He tried to swallow, but his throat would not cooperate.

"You kept me under for two weeks?" he asked, his anger rising.

"We had no choice, Ser Gendry. You should be dead, for who could have survived what you survived? You should have lost that leg, but still the gods remain on your side. Not even a broken bone for such a large chunk of tree to roll on top of you!"

With more strength than he felt he really had, Gendry began to sit up. Thoros was at his side at once, helping him to sit on the edge of the bed. His injured leg dangled before him, yet by looking at the leg, you could tell that nothing had happened. There was a deep ache, something he felt he would always have, but when he flexed his foot, his foot obliged.

"Arya," Gendry said, softly.

"Ser Gendry, there is something we need to discuss first," Thoros said, but went quiet at Gendry's sharp look.

"There is nothing more important to me than getting her back, so whatever it is that you want to discuss with me better be about her. Who took her Thoros? Who was it?"

The man closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. To Gendry, he looked guilty of something. Gendry grabbed the sheets in fists, his knuckles growing white with rage.

"You know something, do you not?" he whispered.

"I do. Do you remember Edric Dayne?"

Gendry's forehead furrowed in confusion. The name rang a bell. Suddenly, a face appeared in his mind. A young boy, with long blond hair and eyes so blue they looked purple.

"Dondarrion's squire?"

"Yes. He is the one that took Arya."

"Why?" Gendry breathed, his eyes growing wide.

Thoros' hand shot up to his face, rubbing his sweaty skin. "I have known him since he was a babe on his mother's bosoms. He is not who you think he is, Ser Gendry, though who he really is will come as a shock to all."

"Who. Is. He," Gendry growled, his patience growing thin.

"Baratheons are not the only men who are drawn to Stark women," Thoros whispered. "Do you remember the story of your father's rebellion?"

Yes, it was often told around the forge. It started because of Arya's aunt, my father's betrothed."

"That is correct. So, you know that Rhaegar Targaryen saw Lyanna Stark and instantly became infatuated with her. He stole her away from King Robert, and thus starting a long and bloody battle."

"I already know all of this, Thoros! What is your point!" Gendry said, becoming impatient.

"It was thought that Rhaegar's two children, a girl and a boy, were killed by Gregor Clegane. It was told that the man smashed the the baby boy's head on stone, so unrecognizable that some refused to believe it was even a child at all. But, there was something that Clegane did not know. There was something that your father did not know. The baby boy that died on that night was not Aegon Targaryen. We could not get to the small girl in time, but the boy was saved. The baby Clegane murdered was an orphan, and no one ever knew the difference. Of the two dead children laid at your father's feet, only one was the true child of Rhaegar Targaryen."

Gendry's eyes went wide hearing this. He could not breathe for several moments, for the truth was too unbelievable.

"Edric Dayne is Aegon Targaryen? How do you know this, Thoros? HOW!" Gendry yelled.

"Because I was one of the few men who stole the child away, and brought him into the service of Beric Dondarrion. I was the one who sent him away when Lady Stoneheart took over. I was the one who told him to go look for his aunt, the Mother of Dragons."

At the mention of dragons, Gendry was taken back to the night Arya was kidnapped. The large, black beast had been a horrible and beautiful sight to behold. It was mind-blowing to know dragons existed again after hundreds of years.

"You knew all of this, this whole time, yet you said nothing?" Gendry asked, accusingly.

"I was concerned for the boy's safety. Gendry, I did not want history to repeat itself. You are as much a Baratheon, blood and flesh, as Aegon is a Targaryen. I prayed to the gods, old and new, that the sins of the father would not strike down upon both of your heads, but I should have knew better once the Stark girl appeared."

"You should have told me! I am not my father. I do not share his hate...not until now! I will find them and he will know my fury!"

"Ser Gendry, there are other things that require your attention at the moment. I know what she means to you. Remember, it was I who married you two, but something has happened that threatens all we know and care about!"

Gendry's eyes darkened. "There is nothing that means more to me than Arya. Whatever has happened, I do not care. Westeros can fall into the seven hells, and I will watch it burn gladly as long as she is by my side!"

With that, he slid from the bed. The moment his feet touched the ground, he almost hit the ground. He caught himself on the bed, grinding his teeth against the ache in his leg. Breathing deeply, he tried standing upright. It took several moments, but he was able to stand without help.

"You do not understand, Ser Gendry..." Thoros tried to say, but Gendry interrupted him. "I understand that you betrayed me, Thoros!"

"I did what I had to do and would do it again!" Thoros shot back.

Gendry turned his back to the man, his anger surging through his veins. He wobbled towards the flap of the tent, desperate for his strength to return to him. He would take every last man he had to search for Aegon and Arya. The story of Rhaegar and Lyanna froze his blood solid. After everything was said and done, after all of the fighting and bloodshed, his father had still lost the woman he loved. It would not happen to him. He refused to believe it. His hand grabbed the flap, tearing it out of his way, and walking out. What he saw before him had him frozen in his tracks.

There were people everywhere the eye could see. There were women, children and men. Some where old, yet some were young. Where had they all come from? Why were they here? His wide-eyes looked upon a vast sea of people he did not recognize.

"Ser Gendry, I must ask you to put your anger aside for just a little while to hear what has happened," Thoros said behind him.

"What is this?" Gendry asked, his words but a breath.

His eyes fell on Sansa. Seeing her made Gendry long to have Arya in his arms. She was talking to someone, yet he could not see the man's face. Sansa's face was red and swollen, as if she had been weeping as long as he had been in the darkness. As if she felt his eyes upon her, she turned to him. He could see her lips moving, yet he could not make out what she said.

The man she was talking to turned his body sharply towards Gendry. At once, he could see the man's raw anger shining through his eyes. In long strides, the man came towards Gendry. His men looked upon the man warily. It was as if they feared this man harming him. Even as he came close to Gendry, the man did not slow. Before Gendry knew what was happening, the man had a hold of the front of his shirt. He twisted the fabric in his fists, his angered face inches from Gendry's.

"Where is she?" the man said low and dangerous.

At once, he felt a pang of shame run through him. "I—I don't know," he answered.

"Let him go, now!" Harwin yelled.

The man that grabbed him had several blades pointed at his skin, yet he did not let go. If anything, his hold on Gendry grew stronger.

"Put your swords away," Gendry commanded.

None of his men did as they were told. They took a step towards the man, their blades almost piercing his skin. It was in that moment that other men, none of them Gendry's, stepped forward, their blades drawn as well, yet their blades were pointed at Gendry's men. They all found themselves in a standoff, and the slightest slip would turn it into a bloodbath.

"I said, put your swords away!" Gendry boomed.

"It was your job to protect her!" the man seethed, ignoring that Gendry had just yelled in his face.

He knew at once who this man was, for there could only be one other who would share in his grief and rage of Arya's kidnapping.

"I don't know where she is, but stand with me and we will find her together...Jon Snow."

Chapter 38: War Is Coming

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Jon slowly released Gendry, yet his anger did not fade from his face. His hands slowly fell to his side, which made Gendry's men finally lower their swords. When they did that, Jon's men relaxed and their swords fell as well. The air around them became eerily quiet. No one spoke, the tension as thick as smoke.

"I will stand and fight with you, but if she is harmed in any way, you will answer for it," Jon said, low.

Gendry nodded his head once, understanding what Jon was telling him. If something horrible had happened to Arya, he would never forgive himself.

"Come, let us talk in private," Gendry said to Jon, motioning him to follow into the tent.

He turned, not seeing if the man was following, but knew that he would. As soon as he entered the tent, he turned back around, his mouth opening to speak, but Jon's fist went flying towards Gendry's face. One moment, he was standing upright and the next, he was flat on his back. His jaw cried out in furious pain. Gendry raised his eyes, seeing Jon standing over him.

"That was for sending Lady Stoneheart to the Wall. That...that woman has been nothing but a nightmare for me!" Jon said, his finger pointing towards Gendry.

"Point taken."

With a deep sigh, Jon held his hand out to help Gendry back to his feet. His clasped the man's hand, standing back on his aching leg. "I had to send her away, Jon. I had to send her away for my men...for Arya."

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, the anger finally subsiding. "How has my sister been? I've missed her more than words could possibly describe."

"She's missed you too."

Jon smiled a sad smile, his eyes growing distant for a moment. "The last time I saw her she was but a child. A wild child, but still a child."

"You would be proud of the woman she has turned out to be. Arya has been through things that would destroy a weaker person, yet she has grown into a beautiful, strong woman."

The smile fell from Jon's face, his eyes growing dark. "Sansa told me she was there the day of the Red Wedding. Is it true?"

The question sent Gendry's mind back to a dark time in his life. He looked away from Jon, feeling all those emotions he felt in those days. "Yes," he answered. It was the only thing he could get out.

Jon sat down heavily in a chair, the air deflating from his body. "My gods," he whispered. "The horrible things she must have seen."

"She has never spoken of it, but sometimes I watched her eyes grow distant. Sometimes I could see the memories playing in her mind, demons reeking their havoc. In those moments, I would hold her and wait for them to release their hold on her. Like I said, she is a strong woman. Not once did they take her under to where I could not reach her," Gendry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jon chuckled softly. "How in the world did you get my sister to marry you? I would have never thought in a million years she would become someone's wife."

Gendry smiled. "It took some coaxing, but she finally agreed. Made me the happiest man in Westeros."

For a few moments, they sat silently in the tent. The sounds from outside swirled around them. The sound of thousands of new mouths rang in their ears. It reminded Gendry of what he had seen when he first stepped out into the open.

"Did these people come with you and your men?" Gendry finally asked.

Jon looked at the flap of the tent, as if he could see past the fabric and out into the sea of new people. His face became haunted, his eyes fixated upon the flap, as if he were lost in thought.

"Yes," he answered softly.

"Where did they come from?" Gendry asked, no hesitation.

Jon turned his face towards Gendry, his look reminded him of the nights Arya would battle against the ghosts in her head. He looked like a doomed man awaiting his execution. "What has happened?" Gendry asked.

"Something that my father feared when he was alive. Something I did not believe was possible, yet I saw it with my own eyes."

Gendry felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. "What happened, Jon," he asked louder.

"The Wall has been breached, Gendry. The Wall of ice has fallen, as if the sun melted it. We tried to stop it, but our manpower was not enough to stop the bleeding. From two points, they were able to break through."

"Who?" Gendry breathed, not able to believe what he was hearing.

"From the west side, the Wildlings. From the East side, the White Walkers. Both groups broke through at once, yet I do not believe they are working together. The White Walkers work with no one but themselves. There were too many of them, and there were too few of us. Seven hells, we begged for more men! We begged for enough men to stop such a thing from happening, but no one would listen!"

Jon's face fell in his hands for a moment, silence filling the space around them again. Gendry stared at him, wide-eyed, not able to comprehend what he was hearing. The Wall, the mighty Wall, that protected Westeros from the horrible creatures women used to tell their children about had fallen.

"It cannot be," Gendry whispered.

"Oh, I assure you, it happened. My men and I fought against whatever vile creatures wormed their way out of the hole in the ice, but it did not put a dent in their numbers. The Wildlings went straight for our ravens, destroying every last one of them, so as to not warn anyone. They left us no time to send out riders either. They just kept coming, and my men kept falling to the ground in death. Thousands of Night's Watchmen are dead on this day, and those things are still spilling from the hole in the ice. Me and what few men were still alive escaped. Stannis was one of the men that survived, and he told us about the Brotherhood's camp. We flew like the wind, stopping in every village from there to here and warned the people of what was coming. Some listened to us, while others did not. I begged them to heed my warning, but a few would not leave their homes. Before I knew it, I was leading thousands away from the closeness of the Wall."

"You did the right thing," Gendry said, softly.

"Did I?" Jon hissed. "You think it was right for the Commander of the Night's Watch to run like craven? I gave an oath to protect the Wall, to protect the last line of defense from those people and those things! I ran as my men lay dead on the ground! Do not tell me it was the right thing, for I should have stayed on the Wall and died like the rest!" he screamed.

"Your oath was not to protect the wall."

"What?" Jon said, sharply.

"You made an oath to protect the people of Westeros, not the Wall. If you would have stayed, none of us would know what was happening until the Wildlings and the White Walkers were at our doorsteps. Those people," Gendry said, pointing to the entrance of the tent, "Those people would be dead had it not been for you and your men. Without the ravens, you had no way of warning anyone what is coming. You would have served no one, especially the people you took an oath to protect, if you would have stayed and died."

Jon placed his face in his hands again, his shoulders heaving up and down as he rode the wave of his emotions. Gendry stood, walking towards the man and laying a hand on his shoulders. Jon looked up at him slowly, his eyes haunted.

"Their numbers far exceed any army I know. They will lay waste to the lands of Westeros without a second thought. The Wildlings believe this is their land, while the White Walkers hate anything warmblooded. They will hit us from both sides and there is nothing we can do to stop them."

"We will not give in until our final breath is taken, Jon! Possibly, there is still hope for us."

Gendry's mind was working on overload. For just a moment, he had to do the unthinkable and put Arya aside, though after he did what needed to be done, he and Jon would go in search of her. He would find her before the fate of Westeros became dire. It was the only way he could put all of his efforts in handling this horrible news that Jon had given him. If she was by his side, he could concentrate his attention on where it needed to be.

"Jon, gather your officers and meet me back here in a few moments. We have a lot to discuss."

With that, Gendry walked out of his tent, searching for Harwin and the other men. It took him a moment to find them, but he summonsed them with him. He found Stannis talking with Mya and Edric. He summonsed him as well, and the man came without question. A total of ten of his men sat amongst Jon's eleven men. The tent was cramped, but no one said a word about it. Each man looked to Gendry and Jon as they told of what they knew. Gendry's men looked on with wide eyes, their mouths hanging open in disbelief, yet Jon's men just closed their eyes as they were assaulted with the memories of what was being said. When they were finished, not a word was spoken for the longest time.

"It cannot be true," Harwin whispered.

"I assure you, sir, it is," Jon answered. "They bare down on us even now! It will not be long before they reach this camp. If we do not do something, we will all perish. The people of Westeros will perish after us."

"We do not have the numbers to fight both the Wildlings and the White Walkers. If they both attack, there is nothing we could do to stop it!" Lem Lemoncloak growled.

"No, we do not, not even with forty thousand men can we withstand such an assault," Gendry answered.

"What do you propose we do then, Gendry?" Stannis asked.

All eyes were turned to him. He could feel them upon him, and his head began to swim under the weight of such a question. Was there anything they could do? Was there a way to survive this new threat? For a moment, Gendry was not so sure. If they were attacked by the Wildlings on one side and the White Walkers on the other, there would be no defending such an attack. It was in that moment, as they continued to wait for an answer, that a thought came to Gendry. It was a thought so farfetched, so unbelievable to believe it would actually work, yet he knew with all of his heart there would be no other way. Perhaps if the plan worked he would not have to worry about the Wildlings and White Walkers doing the killing, because his plan would be enough to start a war amongst themselves, but he had no other choice.

"Thoros, how many ravens do we have?" he asked.

"Close to two hundred, ser," the man answered.

Two hundred would barely be enough, but for now, it would have to work. He turned to Jon, nodding his head at the man, who was staring at him with a wary look about him.

"Ser Gendry! Ser Gendry!" someone yelled from outside the tent.

Gendry and the others turned just in time to see a small boy break through the flap of the tent. In his hands, he carried a piece of brown parchment. "This just came by raven," the boy said, breathless. "I ran it all the way here when I received it."

Gendry took the paper from him, seeing his name on the front. Without hesitation, he tore into it, for he knew with all his heart it contained information about Arya. His hands shook as he held the paper to his eyes to read.

"She is safe. No harm has come to her. She is my guest, Ser Gendry, I swear this to you. Come to the Tower of Joy in the mountain of Dorne, and there she will be delivered to you in the same health that she was taken from you. You and I have a lot to talk over. Daenarys Targaryen."

Gendry read the note out loud and several times to himself. It stated that Arya was unharmed, and he prayed that it was true.

"A trap!" Stannis spat. "It is a trap, Gendry!"

"We will ride out today. If it is a trap, so be it. I will face this Targaryen with all of my fury if she has harmed Arya in any way!" Gendry answered.

"I will go with you," Jon said.

The other men agreed, standing to their feet to ready themselves for the journey, but Gendry raised his hand, stopping their movements. They were better served here than with him. He had a task for them to accomplish, something that might be impossible, but he had to try. Another thought hit him and he could not help but laugh.

"Ser Gendry?" Harwin said.

"Two hundred ravens you say?" Gendry said, ignoring the looks from his men.

"Yes."

"Take those two hundred ravens and send them flying. Send them to every corner of Westeros. Send them to every Major House, every Minor House and Independent House. Let them know what has happened at the Wall, and that their lands will be overrun with Wildlings and White Walkers soon. Do not sugarcoat for them what has transpired. Let them know everything that has taken place, and tell them they must stand and fight with us! If we are to survive this, the people of Westeros must do it together!"

Gendry and Jon turned to leave, to make their way to the mountains of Dorne, when Stannis spoke, "You mean every House, do you not? Even the House of our enemies?" The shock in his voice bounced off the walls of the tent, colliding with Gendry's ears.

"I mean every House, uncle! I mean the Lannisters and the Martells and the Greyjoys. I mean the Tullys and the Arryns and the Tyrells. I mean the Boltons and the Cleganes and the Daynes. Every...last...one...of...them! Send a raven to them in peace, letting them know that their presence is needed at the largest meeting Westeros has ever seen! No harm will come to any of them if they accept this invitation. Though most of them I would love nothing more than to kill, the time for such things have come and gone. If we all are to survive what is to come, we will all need to become united for the sake of our land!"

With that, Gendry turned to walk out of the tent, Jon right behind him. "And you will be going to Dorne I take it? If she is not in any harm, allow her to stay there, Gendry. Allow her to stay out of harms way!" Stannis called out to him.

"Arya comes back with me. I will not leave her again! Besides, if no harm has truly come to her, perhaps I can make peace with the Targaryens."

"Why would you do such a thing! They took your wife!" Harwin seethed.

Gendry turned to the men in the tent. A smile slowly rising on his face. "Why? Because they have dragons. Now, get those raven's flying! We do not have much time!"

With that, he turned and walked out. He and Jon walked swiftly towards their horses. Gendry grabbed the reigns hesitating. His eyes scanned over the area, noticing Nymeria at once. She was not alone, though. Three more direwolves stood beside her, their eyes staring at Gendry. Jon turned his head in the direction that Gendry was looking.

"There is four?" Gendry breathed.

"The white one is mine, Ghost. The other two are Summer and Shaggydog. They belong to my brothers."

Gendry jerked his head around, staring wide-eyed at Jon. The man began to smile watching the direwolves. "They're here? Bran and Rickon?"

"Yes. They found me at the Wall right before the attacks. I could not believe it, but there they were. Right now, they are with Sansa at the inn. I sent them there to rest."

"My gods," Gendry whispered. He let go of the horse's reins, stepping forward. "Nymeria, to me!" he commanded.

The direwolf did not hesitate, but ran towards Gendry. His hands dug into the direwolf's fur, knowing exactly what he needed to do. He had seen Arya do it many times, and it just felt right.

"She listens to you?" Jon asked, surprise in his voice.

"We've been through a lot, haven't we, girl?" he said softly, rubbing Nymeria's head. She leaned forward, allowing access to her back and Gendry climbed on, steadying himself upon her body. Jon watched for a few moments, his eyes growing wide. Suddenly, he turned to Ghost, calling the direwolf to him. The white beast did not hesitate, but came to its master. Jon climbed on, turning to Gendry with a smile upon his face.

"I never thought to ride them."

"Neither did I, not until I saw Arya do it. They are faster than horses, so you might want to hang on!"

Jon's hand dug into Ghost's fur. "This should be fun," Jon said, a little nervous.

Both direwolves raised their heads, howling to the sun above them. Jon and Gendry looked up against the blue sky as some two hundred ravens took to flight. Their squawking filled their ears, causing goosebumps to break out upon Gendrys' skin. There was no turning back from his plan now. There was no taking it back, and pretty soon he would have to come face to face with the men he swore to kill. Pretty soon, he would have to sit with them, united. They watched the awe-inspiring sight as the ravens flew as one.

"Are you sure about this plan of yours? Some of these men you've summonsed would rather see Westeros burn than stand with us."

"Then let them burn!"

With that, Gendry and Nymeria move forward. The direwolf blew past Jon and Ghost, leaving them in a trail of dust and grass. Gendry's hold on her tightened, for he almost fell off with the sudden rush of air around him. His thick, black hair whipped back from his face. The wind was defining in his ear, yet he could hear Ghost catching up with them. He jerked his head over, seeing the elation in Jon's eyes. As they made headway on the ground, the ravens above their heads did the same. All two hundred headed towards their destination and if the gods found favor in Gendry and the others, a plan to save Westeros would begin to take shape.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Arya had been given a lavish room to sleep in, yet no sleep would come to her. It had been over two weeks and no word of Gendry had been heard. He would never have allowed that much time to go by without getting to her. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her face lying in her hands. She would not cry, not yet. She would allow the anger to grow within her, and as soon as the opportunity presented itself, she would destroy Aegon. This was all his fault, and he would pay.

"He is not dead. He is not dead," Arya whispered over and over.

The tears threatened the corners of her eyes, for her mind played the scene of the chunk of tree falling down on top of him. No one could have survived that, a voice said in her mind.

"He could," she answered.

She stood from the bed, walking towards the large window. Looking out over the beautiful land, she desperately wanted to see him riding up to the castle she was held in. She forced her eyes to search, forced him to be there, but there was nothing but wind and grass. Arya often spent her time looking out of the window, waiting.

Just as the first tears spilled from her eyes, there was a knock at the door. She swiped at the tears, clearing them from her face. The door slowly opened and Daenerys walked in. She stayed by the door, not walking completely into the room. Arya got the feeling the woman did not trust her, which she thought was smart on her part.

"You must be tired of this room, Arya," Daenerys said, softly.

Arya turned back around to the window, giving the woman her back in answer. She heard Daenyers sigh heavily. The soft fabric of her dress swished with the movement of entering the room, yet Arya still did not turn around.

"You are not a prisoner here. You can go and come as you please, Arya. I—it was never you I wanted."

"No," Arya said, laughing without humor. "It is my husband you want!"

Arya squinted her eyes against the sun's rays that shown through the window. It caused the tears to spill out again, yet she didn't stop them this time. "He could be dead because of your orders," she whispered.

"Aegon told me what happened. I am sorry for that, Arya, but I do not believe he is dead."

Arya swiped angrily at her face, at the tears. She felt weak for crying, felt weak for not trying to escape. Why had she stayed so long? She was free to roam around the castle, and she could find a way to flee. Why had she not done just that? Perhaps it was the fact that she was tired of running. Perhaps it was the fact that she would not get two feet out of the door before Aegon would find her. He was there at all times, though she could not see him. She could feel him close. Arya knew he would not ever allow her to leave. Her only hope was that Gendry was alive and would come.

"Take a walk with me?" Daenarys asked.

For a moment, Arya did not answer, as though she had not heard the woman's request. Finally, she turned to look at her and nodded her head once. She followed Daenarys through the door, stopping as she saw Aegon standing close by. He stared at her, a look of longing and hurt in his eyes. Arya became hardened at once, the tears ceasing their movements down her cheek. She walked past him without so much as a word spoken. His eyes stayed upon her until she was no longer in his sights.

"No matter what you think of him, Arya, Aegon is a good kid. He loves just as fiercely as his father did, and he makes the same mistakes as well."

"Keep him away from me, or I will kill him," Arya spat.

Daenerys did not comment, but walked her towards the back of the castle. As they came outside, Arya stopped in the throes of a gasp. Before her, sat three large dragons. She could not help the shutter that ran down her body, nor could she help the fear that caused her to take a step back. Their large eyes looked upon her and Daenerys, yet they made no move to rise.

"It's true," Arya breathed. "Dragons exist again."

"It is true," Daenerys answered proudly. "I thought you might want to see them."

Arya's wide eyes drank in the three beasts. They were terrifying, yet there was something magical about them. She could feel the heat from their bodies soaking into their skin, feel their large, beady eyes watching her. One shook its head from side to side. The sound was loud to her ears.

"You allow them to roam free? Aren't you afraid they will fly away?"

Daenerys smiled. "No, they are my babies. They know to stay where they are. The green dragon is Rhaegal, named after my brother, Rhaegar. The cream dragon is named Viserion, named after my second brother, Viserys."

Arya waited for her to name the third dragon, but Daenerys grew quiet, her eyes gazing upon the dragon in question. She looked over at her, surprised to see tears in the woman's eyes, though she held a small smile to her lips.

"And the black dragon, what is its name?' Arya asked, quietly.

"D—Drogon, named after my husband, Khal Drogo."

It was the quietest of words, a whisper in Arya's ears, yet there was no denying the pain in her voice. She was surprised by this information. She was surprised to hear that the woman had been married.

"Your husband?"

Daenerys finally turned her tear-filled eyes towards Arya, her smile never falling. "Yes. Drogo was my husband for a time, though the gods chose to take him from me. He and the child that grew in my belly."

Though she tried to fight against it, Arya felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. She had struggled with the fact that Gendry might be dead for weeks. How would she cope if she knew, truly knew, that Gendry was dead? How had Daenerys coped with the loss of her husband? For the briefest of moments, she forgot about her anger and rage.

"Come," Daenerys said, leading her past the dragons to a beautiful garden. The smell of lilies and roses filled her nose at once. Arya breathed deeply, taking in the scents around her. "I often come to this place to think. When I feel my heart breaking at the thought of my husband, I find his presence among the beauty here. I miss him so much," she whispered.

"Yet, you would have me feel the same pain that you feel?" Arya asked.

Daenerys looked over toward Arya, her face growing sad. "I would not wish the pain on anyone, Arya, I swear it, but there is no other way. A marriage alliance with Gendry would be to the benefit of us both."

"No! It would be in your benefit alone, Daenerys. It would give you the crown, yet it would make you no better than the men that took the crown away from you," Arya said sharply.

Danerys flinched at her words, her face looking shocked. Arya knew she had her attention, knew it was the time to tell the woman what she had been rehearsing for days. She walked towards where Daenerys had taken a seat. She sat down beside her in the midst of wildflowers, lilies and roses.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Daenerys. You do not have to take back the throne in this way."

"What other way should there be? Would you prefer me to take what is mine in fire and blood, because that is the only other way besides a marriage to Gendry."

Arya closed her eyes, shaking her head softly. "You allow the people of Westeros to know their true ruler has come back to them. You allow them to know that a Targaryen lives."

Arya opened her eyes and looked at the woman's shocked stare. The insects around them chirped as what Arya said sunk in between them. "You believe I am the true ruler? Above your husband? You have the chance to be queen, Arya, I know you know this!"

"But you have yet to ask me if I want to be queen. You have yet to ask if Gendry wants to be king."

"Do you want to be queen?" Daenerys asked instantly.

Arya smiled softly, shrugging her shoulders. "No, that's not me," she answered.

There was no other words spoken for what seemed like ages. The two women stared at one another, speaking with their eyes, instead of speaking with their words. Behind them, one of the dragons snorted, and Arya felt the heat on the back of her neck. She wanted so badly to turn and look at the creatures again, but did not dare break eye contact with Daenerys.

"I once asked my brother what I am about to ask you," Arya started, but stopped as she felt sadness creeping in at the thought of Robb. She cleared her throat, starting again. "I once asked my brother what I am about to ask you. I asked him not to make me a pawn in the game of thrones. And I ask the same of you, Daenerys. Please," she begged. "Please don't take away the only good thing I have in my life. You were married once. You know how powerful love can be, and I have just now found that again."

Arya reached out, taking the woman's hands in her own. She squeezed the delicate skin, wanting nothing more than to show how much love she had for Gendry. She wanted Daenerys to understand what it was she would be taking from her.

"You win the throne, not by fire and blood, not by a marriage with Gendry, but because it is rightfully yours to have. The people of Westeros will believe in magic again," she said, turning to look at the dragons. "When they see the Targaryens have risen from the ashes again, you will need to play no games to get the iron throne. Please, Daenerys, please do not be like those usurpers who care for nothing but their own gain."

She could see the emotions waging war in the woman's eyes, could see that her words were working. Arya felt like shouting within her as she realized Daenerys was listening to what she was saying, and by the look on her face, she was agreeing with her.

"I—I," Daenerys stammered.

"Dany! Come quickly, someone is coming."

Both Arya and Daenerys turned to see Aegon standing at the door of the castle. His eyes were wide as he beckoned for them to come.

"Is it Ser Gendry and his army?" Daenerys shouted, rising to her feet. Arya felt her heart jump into her throat as she waited on Aegon to answer.

"I do not know. There are no armies, but two men upon large creatures. They make haste towards the castle without slowing. Should I gather the Khalasar?"

"Creatures? What kind of creatures?" Arya asked, walking slowly towards where Aegon stood. "What kind of creatures!" she screamed.

"I am not sure, for I could not see that far away, but they look like large wolves."

Arya did not hesitate, did not think of anything else, but sprinted towards the castle. Her heart was pounding, her head exploding in the thought that Aegon could have possibly seen Gendry coming for her. She left the garden behind her, left the dragons behind as well. The heat stayed on her back, until she ran inside the castle. At once, Aegon reached out and grabbed her arm. His fingernails dug into her skin as he pulled her back to him. She fought against his hold, wanting desperately to break free. Her mind was only on getting to the front of the castle.

"We do not yet know who they are, Arya!" Aegon seethed, not letting her go.

She whirled on him, her eyes a blazed with anger. "Let me go," she .growled, angrily.

"No," he ground out.

Aegon never saw it coming, not until Arya's fist hit its mark. She reached her free arm back, and with every ounce of strength she had, she sent her fist flying towards him. At once, the blood began to pour from his nose, and his hand on her arm let go. He staggered back, his eyes growing wide in shock and pain. The blood pouring from his nose began to seep through the cracks of his fingers, running down his knuckles. Arya relished in the sight of the red liquid, in the pain she had just caused him.

"You will never touch me again," she whispered.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels and stormed towards the large front doors of the castle. At first, the wooden doors would not budge, and Arya cried out in frustration. Bearing down hard, she began to hear the wood creak as it moved. It filled her ears as light began to stream in the crack from the doors departing. She was almost there. Just a bit more pulling and she would have them open.

As soon as she had made the doors come open enough, Arya squeezed through and out the front of the castle. She had to shield her eyes against the burning glare of the sun, but sure enough, she saw two riders coming towards the castle. She squinted her eyes, desperate to see better, but there was no denying Nymeria. She recognized the direwolf in a moment, even as the riders were still far away.

With a cry of joy and relief, Arya began to run. She sprinted as far and as fast as her legs would take her, even as the tears blinded her vision, for the closer she came to the two riders, the more she knew it was Gendry. She could see him hunched over Nymeria's back, riding as if he rode the wind. His thick, black hair was whirling about his face.

"GENDRY!" Arya screamed as loud as her lungs would allow.

He was alive. He was alive and here before her now. The chunk of tree had not killed him as she had feared. The relief at seeing him was overwhelming, and she could not find the words to describe what it felt like. Perhaps this is what Gendry had felt when she had come back to him after fearing that she was dead. Perhaps this is why he had fought so hard for her.

Arya was aware that Gendry wasn't alone, but her eyes were only on him. Not even the fact that the other man rode a direwolf had sunk into her head yet. She watched Nymeria pick up speed, leaving the other man behind. Arya felt tired, her legs begging her to stop, yet she would not. She wouldn't stop until she was in his arms again.

When he got closer, Gendry slowed Nymeria down and jumped off the direwolf, running the rest of the way. "ARYA!" Gendry screamed in return.

The space between them began to shorten as the seconds passed. She could see that he was running with a slight limp, but the point was that he was running at all. He should have been dead, for who could have survived what he survived? Gendry was so close, she could see the smile upon his face.

They collided in a whirlwind of arms and legs. Arya threw herself into his waiting arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him as tightly as she had ever held him. Her legs went around his waist as he clung to her like a drowning man would cling to a piece of wood floating in the water around him.

"You're alive," she cried into his ear.

"I'm alive!" he said, both laughing and crying at once.

Gendry leaned back, kissing every inch of her face, until his mouth found hers. The sensation of his lips upon hers was too much for Arya to have hoped for. She held the sides of his face in her hands as she joined him with kisses of her own.

"Are you hurt? Did—did he do anything to you?" Gendry asked, his voice shaking.

"No," Arya said, shaking her head. "I'm alright, Gendry. I have been treated well."

She kissed him again, this time slowly and deeply. She drank in his scent, the feel of his rough lips upon hers, the feel of his breath upon her face. How could Aegon think to ever contend with something like this? How did Daenerys ever think she could take Gendry away from her? What they had, the love between them, was stronger than even death itself. No mortal could put their love asunder. Her eyes scanned his, seeing the familiar blue.

Something moved behind them, and she heard the whine of a second direwolf. It reminded her that Gendry had not been alone, that someone had come with him. Her eyes slowly lifted from Gendry's blue eyes, looking past his shoulders. A man was riding towards them, his face as shocked as she felt, for when she looked upon the face of the man her heart gave a giant leap. She knew the curly, black hair, knew the dark eyes staring at her. The smile upon his lips was a smile she had seared into her memory and kept all these years. The man riding towards her was her brother in every sense of the word. Before her, rode Jon Snow.

"Jon?" Arya breathed.

Gendry allowed her to slide down his body, yet he had to hold on to her, for the knowledge that Jon was here was enough to have her fall to the ground and cry out. Her eyes were large, round circles, the tears ever present. She watched Jon climb from Ghost, running the rest of the way towards her. Without a thought, she stepped around Gendry and began to run.

"Jon!" Arya cried louder.

It was too much to hope for, to unreal to believe. First, Sansa had come back to her, now Jon. He was there waiting when she jumped towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He laughed and cried in her ear, calling her name over and over. Jon was here. Jon was holding her. Either the gods were cruel gods who allowed her to believe in a dream, or they had delivered both Gendry and Jon to her on this day. Either way, she could not breath, could not think, against the pounding in her head and heart.

She was sure of one thing. The arms around her, tightening their hold, felt real. The sound of his voice at her ear sounded real. The tears that fell from her eyes were just as wet as real tears, so she had no choice but to believe it was all real.

"Do you know how good it is to see your face?" Jon breathed, his forehead resting upon hers.

"About as good as it is to see your face!" she answered.

Jon laughed, a sound that had Arya's heart soaring. How she had missed the sound of his laughter. Gendry came to stand with them as all three looked at one another, their laughter rising. Suddenly, from behind them came the sound of a thousand winged birds. Arya turned abruptly as Daenerys came into view riding on the back of the black dragon Drogon. She heard the gasps from Gendry and Jon, yet she could not look away. The sight of a dragon flying again after thousands of years was one that would stay with her for all eternity.

"Seven hells, would you look at that," Gendry whispered beside her.

"Beautiful," Jon whispered as well.

Drogon sat Daenerys down easily, a loud shriek leaving the beast's mouth and causing Arya, Gendry and Jon to jump. They were frozen in place, their eyes staring wide and shocked. Daenerys glided down the dragon's wings, as if she had practiced many times. Her graceful way of landing on the ground was worthy of envy. Her long, purple dress flowed in the breeze around her, as she slowly walked to where they were frozen. Daenerys' eyes found Arya's, smiling just a fraction, yet Arya saw it. She found herself smiling back at the woman, for she could not help herself.

"Welcome, Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill. You are among friends, I promise. I welcome you to the Tower of Joy. I must say, I do not know your companion's name to welcome him as well," Daenerys said in a sweet voice.

"U-um," Jon started, clearing his voice. "I am Jon Snow," he answered softly.

For several moments, Daenerys and Jon stared at one another. Arya felt like a spy watching something she should not be seeing, for neither of them were paying her and Gendry much attention. Arya looked from the woman to her brother, both wearing the same look of appreciation.

"Welcome, Jon Snow. You are a guest here as well, and the both of you will be treated at such."

As Daenerys spoke her words, her eyes never left that of Jon Snow's.

Chapter 39: United We Stand, Together We Fall

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

They followed Daenerys into the Tower of Joy. The moment Gendry walked inside, his arm around Arya's shoulders, he froze. Standing before him was the man that had taken her the night of their wedding. He felt his fury rise within him, but he pushed it back down, knowing it would not serve his purpose to take his anger out on the man. Gendry took a step towards Aegon. The man did not flinch, nor did he take a step back. Gendry walked up to him, until they were inches apart.

"My first instinct is to destroy you. I would, believe that, if our situation wasn't dire. It has saved you on this day, along with Arya being unharmed. I have no choice but to swallow my rage, but I want you to know that if you every lay a hand on her again nothing will stop me," Gendry whispered.

Aegon looked confused for a moment, as if he expected this to be a trick. He watched Gendry closely, his eyes darting down to Gendry's hand he pushed it towards him. For a moment, neither men moved as his hand was held out for Aegon to shake. Gendry had thought about how to handle this. He wanted to pulverize the man, but he knew that he needed his help. He knew all of Westeros needed him and Daenerys. After a few seconds, Aegon reached out and took Gendry's hand, shaking it firmly. Gendry nodded his head, turning his back to Aegon and looking towards Daenerys. She, Arya and Jon watched his exchange with Aegon with wide, shocked eyes.

"Daenerys Targaryen, we need your help now more than we ever have."

"Come," she said, turning to walk into the Great Room.

Gendry did as she commanded, followed by Arya and Jon. Aegon came in last still looking a little wary of Gendry. He paid him no attention. Daenerys walked towards the throne at the front of the room. She turned and sat, her full attention on Gendry. With a deep breath, he began to tell her all that had happened. He told her of the breaches in the Wall, of the Wildlings and White Walkers spilling onto Westeros soil. The woman did not move the whole time, did not ask questions. Her eyes stayed glued to Gendry, yet he could not tell what she was thinking. Her face was as unreadable as stone. Jon walked over to stand beside him, telling his part of the story and all that he had seen.

"I have sent out two hundred ravens to every major House, minor House and independent House in Westeros. Now, I stand before House Targaryen, asking you to stand with us. If there was ever a time your people needed you, it is now, Mother of Dragons."

The large room grew completely silent as Gendry's words sunk in. He stole a glance at Arya, her eyes wide. Aegon walked passed him, going to stand beside his aunt. He looked down on her, her up at him, and he nodded his head.

"Why should fight alongside people who would rather kill us than talk to us?" Aegon asked softly.

"Because you love this land as much as we do. Do not deny it, for I can see it in your eyes, Aegon. You were brought up to protect the land, the land that once was ruled by your grandfather. You are a Targaryen, and honor runs deep in your blood," Gendry answered.

Aegon turned to look at Gendry, his eyes showing him that he had hit it right on the nail. He could see the fire burning within the man's eyes, a fire that burned just as hot and bright as his own.

"Could it be that a Baratheon is showing us respect, Aunt?" Aegon said, low.

"I am no Baratheon, but a man of the land. And right now, if this man must beg for your help, I will do just that. We are doomed, Aegon. We are completely doomed without help."

Finally, Gendry saw some emotion run through both Aegon and Daenerys' face. The son of the man that had killed their brother and father would beg if he had to. It showed them the seriousness of the situation.

"When is this meeting supposed to take place?" Daenerys asked.

"Three days time. By that time, we hoped to have everyone assembled. The ravens went out three days before today, so most should have reached their destination by now."

Daenerys stood from her throne, her eyes never leaving Gendry's. She descended the steps, coming to stand before him and Jon. She looked at both men, a look of determination on her face.

"House Targaryen will stand with the people of Westeros to bring down those who threaten our lands."

Gendry's eyes slowly closed, a deep sigh falling from his lips. They now had dragons, three of them, and he knew just how to use them. Jon had told him of how he had killed a White Walker with fire. Those huge beasts would be a sight to behold. He reached his hand out. Daenerys did the same and they shook hands. "It looks as though the sins of the father has not tainted our blood, Ser Gendry."

"No, it hasn't."

Gendry stood before a long window, staring out into the late afternoon day. Below him, he watched Jon and Aray walk slowly. There arms were locked together as they talked of what had happened these past few years. Gendry had decided to give them time to themselves. Daenerys had gone to fill her Khalasar in on what was happening. Right now, they were preparing for battle. Behind him, Gendry heard footsteps approaching, yet he did not have to turn to see who it was. He already knew.

"I must say, I was taken aback by your reaction to me taking Arya. It was not what I expected," Aegon said.

"I will admit that it wasn't my first course of action. But some things are more important that my rage. Pray that you never know what it feels like to watch someone you love being taken from you and you are helpless to stop it. Pray you never know that fear."

"I am afraid I will know just that soon, Ser Gendry," Aegon whispered.

Startled, Gendry turned to look at the man. His eyes were looking past Gendry's shoulders out the window. Gendry could see the whirlwind of emotions playing in his eyes, surprising him.

"Let me take her away from all of this. Let me protect her. I will run to the farthest part of the world if it means she is safe from death," Aegon pleaded.

For a moment, Gendry found himself pondering this. All he wanted was to keep Arya safe. He would give anything to keep her far from what was to come, but he knew she would never leave. Arya would stay and fight along with him.

"I can't," Gendry answered, low.

"You say you love her, yet you refuse to protect her. You will allow her to die? Do you even love her?"

Gendry walked towards Aegon, his anger rising to the surface again. "Do not ever ask me such a thing again. You will never know what she and I have been through. You will never know how much I love her. She is the very air that I breathe, and I have known a world where I didn't think she existed anymore. I would love nothing more than to grant you what you wish, but by doing that, I would disrespect who she is. I would rather her stand on the battlefield with me than to deny her a chance to fight for what she loves and believes in."

"I love her too. I have for all of these years," Aegon growled.

"Yet you know nothing about Arya! You know nothing of the dreams that haunt her at night. You know nothing of the way she shakes in your arms as she fights against the demons you are too powerless to destroy. You know nothing of the way she smiles, something that would light all the darkness in Westeros. You know nothing of the joy she brings with just a single touch of her lips. You...know...nothing, Aegon Targaryen!" Gendry seethed.

And then Gendry saw it. It was the smallest of changes in Aegon's eyes, yet he had caught a glimpse of it. The man looked defeated, as if he knew he cold never have Arya. "You are right, I do not know her like you do, but that does not mean I love her any less," Aegon said.

He came to stand beside Gendry, as they both looked down upon Jon and Arya. No words were spoken as the ghosts of this place whirled around them. Gendry could almost feel a chill in the air, as the stories of what took place here filled his mind. The Tower of Joy was where Rhaegar had taken Lyanna, and where Lyanna had died. Above their heads was the room that Eddard had found his sister.

"Stand with me, Aegon," Gendry said, turning his attention to the man. "If you truly love her, stand with me and fight. Let us make up for our fathers' wrongdoings towards one another. They destroyed the other, because of their love for the same woman. Let us not be so stupid. I cannot begin to explain what is coming, and if we don't stand together, we will fall."

Aegon turned from the window, his eyes haunted. He reached up, clasping Gendry on the shoulder. "I will stand with you, for the love I bare this land gives me no other choice. Whatever is to come, we will meet it head on, and it will know our wrath!"

Gendry nodded his head, realizing that his rage and anger towards Aegon was slowly dying away. What would Robert and Rhaegar think if they could see them now?

"Gendry, Aegon, we are ready to go," Daenerys said, as she walked into the room. Her khalasar came behind her. Gendry looked at the Dothraki men, their hard faces making them look ready for battle. Though there was not nearly enough to defeat the Wildlings and White Walkers, it was a start. It gave him hope that others would come with their armies. This plan of his had to work, for there was no other option.

"Then, let us be off," Gendry said.

They made their way outside to Arya and Jon. Gendry went immediately toward Arya, wrapping his arm around her. "It is time to leave," he announced. At once, the khalasar went to their horses, but Gendry, Arya and Jon did not move, their eyes staring towards the dragons. Daenerys and Aegon walked towards the dragons, who leaned down for them to climb on. Daenerys stared at them for a moment before a large smile broke out upon her face.

"You want to ride them, do you not?" she asked from atop Drogon.

"Yes!" all three said at once.

"And what of your direwolves?"

"They are nowhere to be found. It is not out of the ordinary that they roam free until they feel that it is time to return," Jon answered.

"Very well. Gendry, you and Arya can ride atop Viserion. Jon, if you like, you can ride with me," Daenerys said, a small smile breaking out on her lips.

They watched as Jon stepped forward, walking warily towards the black dragon. Drogon did not seemed to mind that a stranger was coming towards him, but dipped his head low to allow Jon to climb up. He sat behind Daenerys, wrapping his arms around her waist. Arya chuckled softly.

"Shall we?" Gendry whispered, sighing heavily.

"This should be interesting."

With that, they began walking towards the green dragon, Viserion. He did as the others had done earlier, and lowered his body for Gendry and Arya to climb up. Once they were in place, Arya in the front and Gendry holding on to her tightly from behind, the dragons stretched their large wings out to the side. Their mouths came open, smoke rising from within, as the shrieked.

Suddenly, Gendry felt them rising in the air. His eyes went wide as the ground below them moved further and further away. The wind began to whip around them, causing his skin to grow cold. His hold on Arya tightened. They turned in the air, and like an arrow piercing the air, they were off. The flap of the dragon's wings sounded like a clasp of thunder in the sky. Gendry did not know what was better, riding a direwolf, or riding a dragon.

Below them, the landscape began to change. Gone was the mountain of Dorne as they moved closer towards the Brotherhood's camp. The forest became thicker, the villages looking like small dots from their viewpoint. Viserion glided to his left, coming very close to his brother Drogon. Gendry jerked his head over, seeing Jon's arms out to his side, his head raised back as the wind whipped at his long, curly hair. A look of peace and happiness shown on his face. Daenerys was laughing at him. Gendry looked to his other side, seeing Aegon leaning low on Rhaegal's back. His white-blond hair was flying around him. He looked as though he had always belonged on the back of a dragon.

It took them a while to get back to the camp, yet not as long as it took them to get to the Tower of Joy. By riding the dragons, they had saved a lot of time. They landed the beasts in a large field, a ways away from the camp. Gendry did not know if the men would take to the dragons very well, and he wanted to give them a word of warning about them first. Daenerys understood this and agreed.

As they walked through the camp, his men stopped to stare. Their eyes were only on Daenerys and Aegon. Their whispers reached Gendry's ears. "Targaryen," they said. "The Mad King's daughter." If Daenerys heard their words, she never showed it. Gendry led them towards the center of the camp. There was no mistaking the large group of people gathering. This is where the largest meeting Westeros had ever seen would take place.

Harwin and Gendry made eye contact, and the man began to walk towards them. He reached out, taking Gendry's hand in his to shake. "You've made it just in time, Gendry! My gods, they are answering the raven's call," he said, excited.

"Are they all here?" Gendry asked.

"Not all, Ser Gendry, but most have made it. Others are on their way, sending a rave back to announce their arrival. The Tullys were the first to arrive. The Martells after them. The Tyrells have come as well, Loras and Margaery. Most every House is present, except for a few."

"Who is missing?" Gendry asked, angrily.

"Well, for starters, the Freys." Beside him, Arya flinched, as if Harwin had reached out and hit her. "It may be that they are too afraid to come. The Greyjoys, though I am not sure who would come to represent them. The Cleganes, though there is word that one is on his way, though none will say which one. And finally, the Lannisters."

"The Lannisters should have been the first to arrive since they sit on the iron throne!" Gendry seethed. "We need the Kingsgaurd."

A horn blew in the distance, and Gendry jerked his head around, fear growing within him. "The horn signals another House arriving, Ser Gendry," Harwin said. Everyone in the camp turned to see the newest arrivals. Instantly, it was known who the guests were by the lion sigil flying high upon their banner. Two men led the caravan, one grown, the other a dwarf. Behind them came a lavish carriage made of gold. Gendry knew who sat inside it. Behind the carriage came a host of solders, the Kingsgaurd.

"Look who decided to come out and play," Arya whispered under her breath.

Jamie and Tyrion Lannister climbed from their horses. The imp looked around warily, but Jamie went straight for the carriage. Everyone watched as the doors were open and the Queen Regent stepped out. She was immaculate as usual. Her body was covered in purple silk. Her long, blond hair falling behind her back in curls. Her eyes looked around them, a look of disgust on her face. The Kingsguard filed in around her, as if to protect her from someone.

"She'll need protection," Arya seethed.

Gendry touched her back lightly, wanting to ease the anger within her, but he knew there was nothing he could do. She would have to suffer through seeing people she wanted dead.

"That just leaves the Cleganes, and possibly the Freys and Greyjoys if they show," Harwin said.

"We will give them till tonight, and if they haven't arrived, we will begin without them. Not another moment can be wasted."

Too much time had been wasted already, and the more they waited, the more people would die at the hands of the Wildlings and White Walkers.

Gods help us all, Gendry thought.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Arya could feel the rage grow within her as her eyes scanned the sea of new people. Roose Bolton stood off to the side, his beady eyes searching every face. He had betrayed Robb. Her hands balled into fists, tears of rage pricking the corners of her eyes. His bastard, Ramsay Bolton was standing beside him. To Arya, he looked as ugly on the outside as he was inside. The sound of Cersei's voice floated to Arya's ears, and she was taken back to the day her father was murdered. Her prayer was upon her lips as she silently said each name she wanted to kill.

She stepped away from Gendry, turning towards the forgotten path. He caught her arm, turning her around to look at him. For a few moments, she refused to look in his eyes. "Arya, please. There was no other way. We have to fight together," he whispered.

"I know, but I'm not ready to face them yet. Please, let me go, Gendry," Arya said, jerking her arm out of his grasp. Jon came towards her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "I will take her to the inn. There are some people there that need to see her."

With that, Jon and Arya walked away from Gendry and the hundreds of people, who most of them she wanted dead. For a long while, neither spoke to one another. Arya's mind was in shambles knowing she would have to come face to face with the people who betrayed and killed her family. How would she ever have the strength to face them?

"I agree with Gendry's plan, Arya. I was at the Wall when they broke through. I saw their numbers and it's..." he trailed off.

"You agree to stand shoulder to shoulder with the men who murdered father? You agree to stand shoulder to shoulder with the men who murdered Robb and mother? I'm sorry, Jon, I can't do it!" Arya seethed.

Before Arya was aware of what was happening, Jon grabbed her arms roughly and turned her around to look at him. His face was angry, as angry as she had ever seen him look at her. "Do not think for a minute that I don't want to shove my sword in those men's heads! I have lived every day of my life knowing that my family was being picked off one by one and I could do nothing about it! I could not go to father and save him! I could not go to Robb and save him! I feel the same anger and hatred that you do, Arya, but I know what is coming! I have seen it, and not even with Gendry's plan do we have hope of succeeding!"

Arya's eyes grew wide at this. What was he saying? Were they doomed from the start? "What do you mean it won't succeed?" she whispered.

Jon closed his eyes, his chest heaving one, long breath. "I have seen their numbers, Arya. The White Walkers alone have enough men, women and children to wipe out all of Westeros. You throw the Wildlings in on top of that, and their numbers far exceed anything we have! Yes, we have dragons, and yes they will help to defeat the White Walkers, but the Wildlings...we have only mortal men and not enough. I cannot see how we will win this."

"Why have you not told Gendry this?"

"He already knows, Arya, but he still holds on to hope. Without hope, those men will not go into battle and at least try to win. You must put your anger and rage aside, just for a little while, for if you do not, it will be your defeat. We have something to fight for, Arya. Our family still lives, and they need us now more than ever."

With that, Jon let her go and continued walking. Arya was frozen in place, his words dancing around in her head. They had no way of winning this war. It was the first time she had heard someone speak of it out loud and the overwhelming need to survive consumed her. She turned and began to follow him again, yet she felt like her feet were made of lead, like her body weighed a ton.

They came upon the inn, and Arya stopped to get her emotions under control. Sansa was in there, and she would be able to see the truth on her face. She would not do that to her sister. She would not make her worry about what was to come. Sansa had been through enough already. She swung the door open and walked in with Jon coming in behind her. The moment her eyes scanned the inn, she froze.

Arya felt the breath being knocked from her body, as if she had taken a blow to the stomach. Her eyes went wide, her mouth coming open in a gasp. Two faces sat before her, two faces she dared not believe could still be alive. It seemed like too much to hope for. It seemed like to much to believe, that the gods would give her another miracle in the form of Bran and Rickon.

The two boys sat at the bar, their smiling faces looking towards her. Though they looked older, she still saw her little brothers. Rickon climbed from the stool and ran towards her, colliding in to her hard. His arms were thrown around her waste as he held to her tightly. On instinct, she wrapped her shaking arms around him and cried out at his realness. The strength melted from her body and she sunk to her knees, grabbing the boy closer to her and whispering his name.

"I always knew you would come back to us," Rickon said in her ear.

Through the sobs and tears, Arya began to laugh. Her eyes lifted to the bar from where she sat on the floor. Bran was watching her, a small smile on his face. His eyes sparkled in the dim light above his head, and she realized he was crying. With all the strength she could muster, Arya stood with Rickon in her arms and stammered towards Bran. She reached out to him, and he to her. As soon as their hands touched, he leaned towards her and both brothers and sister held one another as if they feared to let the other go.

Behind her, Arya felt Jon join them, his long arms snaking around her and Bran. Soon, Sansa was there, her own tears falling from her eyes. They made room for the girl as she crashed in to them. The remaining Stark children held to one another as tightly as they could, for they were the last of their family. They cried, and they laughed. They talked and they sat looking at each other silently. Arya held Rickon in her lap, touching his hair and his arms. She drank in Bran's face, a face that was starting to look so much like Robb. How could it be that a heart could shatter and mend itself all at once? Arya realized that the last of her family had found their way to her, only to be taken away when this war would start. She closed her eyes, laying her cheek upon Rickon's head as she listened to Bran tell of what they had been doing. She listened to him tell his tale of Theon's betrayal and their journey beyond the Wall and back.

They spent hours upon the floor of the inn, talking and laughing and grieving for the loss of their father, mother and Robb. Arya wondered if they had met Lady Stoneheart, but she did not have to wonder long.

"That—that woman is not our mother, is she?" Bran asked.

"No!" both Arya and Jon answered at once.

"So, she is truly lost to us?" Sansa whispered.

Arya looked at her sister's broken face. She reached her hand out to her, and Sansa took it, squeezing. "This is our family now, Sansa. Every one of us is what is left of our family. And right now, we need to stand together like we never have before. You all know something is coming, do you not?" They all began to nod their heads. "Then, you must know that we have to represent the Starks in this. Would that I could save you all from the horrors that await us, but I realize that it is not possible. Bran, you are King of the North now, and your presence is required at a meeting tonight. Can you be counted on to be there?"

"Yes!" he answered with such conviction it had Arya's heart breaking.

"What about me?" Rickon asked.

"You too, little brother. Sansa, you too," Arya said.

Sansa nodded her head, her body shaking just a little. The girl was scared, but so was everyone else. They should all be scared if what Jon was saying was true. Arya found it odd that she was calling them to the meeting when she should be hiding them away. The truth was, those days of pretending things were normal and okay were gone for them all. It was a new day, a new world, and there was no where they could go to hide. Arya knew this, though it did little to make her feel better.

The door to the inn opened, and one of Gendry's men walked in. He bowed before them as he spoke. "House Stark's presence is needed at the meeting that is about to start."

Arya turned back to her brothers and sister, trying to put on a brave face, but she felt as though she failed miserably. Jon climbed to his feet, reaching down, and placing Bran on his back to carry him. Arya followed his lead, helping Rickon and Sansa to their feet. As one, they walked from the inn and towards the forbidden forest. None of them spoke as the last rays of the day began to fade.

They were the last to arrive, or so they thought. No one saw the man walking down the path leading towards the Brotherhood's camp, and if they did, no one said a word about it, but Arya saw him. Jon, Bran and Rickon went on ahead, but she and Sansa stopped. She looked over at her sister and realized that Sansa was staring at the man as well. She knew the built of him, knew the long, black hair falling around his shoulders. Though he was still far away, Arya was sure she knew who he was.

"Oh, Sansa," Arya breathed, her eyes growing wide.

Her sister took a hesitant step forward. She could hear the girl breathing hard, could see her eyes plastered towards the man walking. It seemed as though he spotted them, for his footsteps faltered and he came to a stop. Even from her viewpoint, she could see his chest heaving. Yes, she knew this man, but the fact that he was alive was too much to believe.

"Sandor?" Sansa whispered. She took another step towards him, and this seemed to get him to walking again. As if shackles had been lifted from her feet, Sansa broke out into a run. Arya covered her mouth with her hand, too shocked by what she was seeing. The Hound picked up his pace, until he too began to run. Arya had left him to die, yet here he was. He was alive and well by the looks of it.

The Hound and Sansa met one another. Sansa threw herself into his waiting arms, and he crushed her to him. "Little Bird," Arya heard him say. His eyes came open, staring right towards her. She felt her heart jump in her throat. How would he react towards her? His scared face held hers, yet she did not see any anger in his eyes. Surprisingly, he began to smile at her, nodding his head in greeting. Arya returned his smile with one of her own. If it was possible for her and the Hound to stand the sight of one another after what they went through together, perhaps the others could do the same. She turned, leaving them to their moment, and walked towards the meeting place. It was held in a vast open space to where everyone would have enough room. At once, she noticed that alliances were standing together, their eyes staring angrily at their enemies. Gendry stood amongst them all, searching every face. When he turned to her, she saw the relief and fear in his eyes. She walked to him without a moments hesitation. He took her hand in his, squeezing softly. She could feel the slight tremor in his arms.

"House Clegane had just arrived. Give him a moment with Sansa, and the Hound will join us," Arya whispered.

Though he looked confused by this, Gendry did not ask any questions. Instead, he nodded his head and turned to the people awaiting his word.

"First of all, thank you all for coming. I realize that I did not give you much information, but that is about to all change. Something has happened, something that threatens all that we know and love! Jon, if you will," Gendry said, his hand motioning for Jon to step forward. Arya watched her brother come to stand beside her and Gendry.

"The Wall, the last line of defense for Westeros, has been breached. As we speak, thousands upon thousands of Wildlings and White Walkers walk our land in the open. They hunt our people, slaying every man, woman and child. We, of the Night's Watch, tried to stop it, but their numbers were too many. They mowed us down where we stood, killing all. Me and a small band of men barely escaped, but we did so in the hopes that we could bring word to all of you! They are coming, and they will not stop until every one of us are dead! There is no talking to them, no reasoning with them. They only know of killing, and only believe that they have a right to be here. Not for a moment are we safe. You cannot buy your life with gold," he said, his eyes looking towards the Lannisters.

It was complete silence as everyone drank in this information. Some looked horrified, while others looked humored, as if they did not believe such a thing was possible. Ramsay Bolton was the first to laugh, showing that he did not believe.

"This is ridiculous!" he barked.

Gendry turned around, nodding to someone by the trees. Arya looked around to see who it was, and gasped as several men approached. They were leading two Wildlings ahead of them. Each one was tied from head to foot. When the people saw this, they gasped. The men jerked them to kneel before Gendry.

"Tell these people what you and your people plan to do," Gendry commanded.

One of the Wildlings spat at Gendry, barely missing him. "Go fuck yourself!" the Wildling grounded out. In one quick motion, Gendry unsheathed his sword. Without a word, he sliced the head right off the Wildling. The Wildling's companion began to scream as the headless body fell to the ground. "What are you planning to do!" Gendry screamed, the blade of his sword resting on the other Wildlings neck. The man was whimpering, begging for his life.

"W—we want Westeros for our own! I—It is our land as much as yours! Please, please don't kill me!"

"Are you working with the White Walkers? How many Wildlings are there?"

"W—White Walkers work with no one!" the Wildling cried. "Our numbers are too many to count! Please!"

"Are they coming for us? Are the Wildlings and White Walkers coming for the people in Westeros?"

For a moment, the Wildling did not answer, but looked around him fearfully. "Y—y—yes," he said, finally.

Gendry turned his eyes upon Ramsays Bolton. "Do you believe now, sir?" Gendry whispered. Bolton's eyes were wide, as was just about everyone listening. "The men who have brought these Wildlings into our midst have seen what we know to be true! They have found the Wildlings, yet the White Walkers are coming up another way. They have separated, which makes this more dire. Take this Wildling into the holding cell," Gendry commanded.

As soon as the men lead him out, and took the body of the dead Wildling, the group exploded in to a fury of questions. Each man and woman wanted to be heard, speaking louder than the next. Suddenly, their loud questions turned into angry accusations. The Tullys pointed towards the Lannisters, their angered screams filling Arya's ears. Loras Tyrell turned his furious eyes towards Stannis Baratheon and his men. His sister had to hold him back as he lurched towards the man. The Boltons just sat and laughed, their eyes staring daggers at the Starks. House Arryn, which was just made up of one man, Petyr Baelish, looked as though he was having a wonderful time at the outbursts. Arya had to keep from walking towards him and smashing his face with her fist.

"Enough," Gendry called out, yet no one listened. "ENOUGH!" he exploded.

Suddenly, the screams died down as all eyes flew back to Gendry. Arya could feel his rage coming off his body. "What in the seven hells is this?" he spat. "I give you proof that we are at war with another enemy and you turn on one another? Do you not understand what is happening here! Do you not understand that if we do not stand together, we will all fall the same? Put away your hatred and anger towards your brothers and sisters! Put away your hunger for revenge, or none of us will survive this!" He pointed towards the trees, past them. "Our enemies are out there, not in here! They are coming, and they will burn this land to the ground! Your blood, and the blood of your children, will seep into the soil in their wake! The White Walkers are ahead of us and will strike at the front. The Wildlings will strike from the rear, and all you people want to do is bite each others heads off! ENOUGH!" Gendry screamed.

Silence descended upon them once more. It lasted for minutes, until the voice of Cersei spoke. "I will not sit here and be talked to like this by a bastard boy!" she seethed.

"Then you are free to crawl back to your throne! But know this, it may not be your throne for long!" Gendry bit back.

Cersei smiled, though it came out more like a snarl. "You think you are Robert come again? You think you can rally these men for your war? I should have cut your head off when I had the chance," she whispered.

"Cersei, enough," Tyrion called out.

"I haven't even begun, little brother! I am going back to my children, to my son, the true King of the Seven Kingdoms," she snarled, her eyes darting towards Daenerys. "I will not allow any of you, especially a Targaryen to take the throne from my son!"

"You are blind, Cersei! You do not wish to see what is coming. There may not be a throne for your son to have," Tyrion said, softly.

She stared at him for a moment, a look of fear passing in her eyes, yet it was gone in an instant. She scoffed at her brother, walking away to leave. The men of the Kingsguard looked as though they did not know what to do. Their eyes turned from their queen to Gendry.

"Then by all means, little brother, you stay and die! I would love nothing better than for the Wildlings to flay you alive!" She turned her attention to the Kingsguard. "Come!" Cersei commanded them. "You too, Jamie. Come with me."

All eyes fell to Jamie. He was looking down, not able to meet his sister's stare. "I can't," he whispered.

Cersei's eyes went wide at her brother's words. She took a step towards him as he finally looked up to meet her stare. His face looked miserable, his eyes haunted. "I cannot leave, sweet sister. I am a warrior, and Westeros is under attack. I will stay and fight."

"J—Jamie?" Cersei said, stunned.

Tyrion took a step towards his sister, his eyes growing hard. "If you choose to do this, Cersei. If you choose to leave and take the Kingsguard with you, I want you to know this. I want you to know that after this war is over, and we are lucky enough to survive it, I will stand beside the person who will take your son's throne from him. I will stand beside them gladly as I watch you fall from your pedestal. And as I stand watching, you will look upon my smiling face and know you have been defeated for the last time!"

Cersei's eyes grew wide at her brother's words, as Arya's grew wide as well. The Lannisters were known for their loyalty to their blood, yet here Tyrion was letting it be known he would have a hand in taking everything away from his sister.

"It is time to choose, dear sister! Will you stand with us, or will you turn away from your people when they need you and your men the most?"

The shock fell from Cersei's eyes, leaving coldness and hatred. She slowly turned her back on Tyrion and everyone, turning her head slightly to speak. "I am going home to my children! May you all burn in the seven hells."

With that, she walked towards her golden carriage. Helplessly, everyone watched as the Kingsguard followed. A good chunk of their army's numbers going with her.

"CERSEI!" Jamie screamed at her. "Do not do this!"

She never stopped, never turned back to the brother she claimed she loved with every fiber of her being. Instead, she disappeared behind the walls of her carriage, as the Kingsguard turned her towards King's Landing.

"We need those men, Gendry," Arya whispered under her breath.

There was nothing Gendry could do as they watched the Kingsguard walk away from them. All eyes turned back to Gendry. For a while, he did not say a word, but turned in a slow circle. He met each man and woman's face. Fear had suddenly crept in around them, and not even the Boltons were laughing anymore. When he came to look upon Daenerys and Aegon, Gendry stopped.

"We have fifty thousand men and your dragons, Daenerys." At this, a large gasp swept through the group.

"Dragons?"

"It cannot be!"

"They have been extinct for thousands of years!"

The shouts continued, until Gendry held up his hands. "Three dragons remain, alive and breathing as you and I are alive and breathing." Arya looked over at him, seeing his eyes come alive. She realized a plan was starting to form in his mind, and she turned her whole body towards him, waiting. She could see the plan growing in his mind.

"Daenerys, you and Aegon will take the dragons, along with ten thousand men and strike out at the White Walkers. Let the dragons breath fire down upon those creatures as the men run in to destroy them! Use the dragonglass that Jon and his men brought with them to end their lives along with the fire.

Both Daenerys and Aegon nodded their heads in acceptance. Again, Gendry turned to look at the people present.

"And what of the Wildlings," Stannis asked.

"I will ride out to meet them on the battlefield with forty thousand men." He stopped, his eyes falling to the ground. "I—I will not choose who will go with me, for forty thousand men against a number too large to count is suicide. It is not my hope that we can defeat them, but that we can give Daenerys and Aegon enough time to take care of the White Walkers. Perhaps I can offer them time with a diversion. I cannot ask any of you to join me and not join Daenerys and her dragons. I know how this will turn out for me and the men who will accompany me. Only by volunteering will you be chosen to stand with me."

Arya closed her eyes, feeling the hairs on the back of her head rise on end. Somehow, she knew this was the way it would be. Somehow she knew there was no way to win this. Gendry had resigned himself to his fate, and she knew she would not be anywhere but by his side. Reaching over, she grabbed his hand in hers. His head shot up, his eyes looking in to hers.

"No, Arya," he whispered, taking her face in his other hand. "I want you to go with Daenerys and Aegon. I want you to be atop the dragon, so you will be out of harm's way. You know there is no coming back from where I am going."

She stepped closer to him, not caring who was watching. This was her husband, someone who meant everything to her. "You and me," she whispered.

Gendry exhaled, as if he felt defeated by her words. There was no way he would get her to leave him, and Arya knew that Gendry understood that. If his fate was death, it was her fate as well.

"House Baratheon stands with you!" Stannis said, as he and his men stepped forward.

"House Tyrell will also," Loras said, as he and Margaery stepped out. "Y—you look so much like him," Loras whispered, his eyes staring at Gendry.

Suddenly, the representative from each House stepped forward, giving Gendry their allegiance. Even House Bolton was there among them. Roose and Ramsay did not look happy, but they did look determined.

"House Stark stands with you!" Bran cried out from where he was sitting. Arya looked over at him, a watery smile filling her face. Rickon stepped forward in Bran's place, coming to stand beside Jon.

"The men of the Night's Watch stand as well," Jon said, proudly.

"House Clegane will stand as well," the Hound called out, Sansa close to his side. Arya had not even seen them walking in.

"You have House Tully's sword, Ser Gendry!"

"House Martell will stand!"

"House Westerling stands with you as well!" a woman called out. Arya jerked her head over, seeing a woman walk forward. She had not even known the woman would be here. It was Jeyne, Robb's widow. Arya nodded her head towards the woman, who returned her nod with one of her own.

More houses came forward, until it left House Lannister. Tyrion and Jamie were looking at each other, a small smile playing on their lips. "Oh, what the hell, brother! Let us die on the battlefield together," Tyrion said, softly. Jamie nodded his head, chuckling.

Both brothers took a step forward together. "House Lannister will stand with you all!" Tyrion called out.

It was settled. Daenerys and Aegon took their leave, taking ten thousand men with them, and walking towards the dragons. Arya watched them go, watched as Aegon turned one more time to look at her. Their eyes met, yet she did not turn away. He smiled at her sadly, dipping his head forward. She copied his movements, letting go of her anger and rage towards him. They were connected now in a fight for everyone's survival. Aegon turned his back on her and disappeared around a large group of trees.

"Oh seven hells, this is too depressing! If this is our last night on this planet, let us be drunk with wine. Everything is better with a little wine in the belly," Tyrion yelled.

Before too long, the camp was alive with music and wine. The men celebrated their last night alive with dancing and song. Arya stood off to the side, watching them. Gendry was making his rounds, shaking the hand of each man from each House, giving them his thanks. Sansa and the Hound were off to the side, wrapped in each others arms. She could see the look of love on her sister's face from a mile away. Bran and Rickon sat talking with Jon and his men. Their laughter floated to her ears every so often causing her heart to swell. Mya and Edric sat with Stannis, their conversation looking serious. Arya chuckled, knowing that Stannis would never let loose, even if it was his last night to be alive. Jeyne and Willow walked amongst the men, making sure their cups were full of wine. Hot Pie made sure their plates stayed full with food. His eye caught her, and they both smiled at one another. Arya did not feel up to celebrating, so she turned and made her way back to her and Gendry's tent.

She walked inside, the music dulling down, because of the walls around her. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind exploding with the knowledge that she and everyone she loved would be dead by tomorrow night.

"This cannot be how it ends," she whispered to the space around her.

Her eyes glanced around the tent, seeing Gendry's belongings and her own. The smell of him engulfed her, and she could not stop the sob that escaped her mouth. She would lose him tomorrow, just as she would lose Jon, Sansa, Bran, Rickon and Hot Pie. With tears in her eyes, she looked upon the bed, not yet broke in with her and Gendry's lovemaking. Her eyes squinted against something lying on the sheets. A white piece of parchment lay there, her name on the front.

Arya rushed to it, grabbing it up and opening it at once. The moment her eyes read the words, she gasped in complete shock. It could not be true! She read the words again and again, before throwing the piece of parchment on the ground and running out of the tent towards the forest.

The words on the white parchment read, "Valar morghulis. A man wishes to speak with a girl in the forest. Come right away."

Chapter 40: Becoming As One

Summary:

No one said life was easy. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Death has become our world and within it, we are slaves to its horrors. Take my hand, for the moment you let go of me will be the moment I lose myself.

Arya ran past the celebration taking place amongst the men. She glanced over, seeing Gendry still wrapped up in talking to the men from each House. She never thought to tell him where she was going, for she knew she had to deal with Jaqen H'ghar on her own. Gendry had enough on his mind as it was. She turned and ran towards the forest.

She crept through the trees as silently as possible. Running further and further away from the camp, she wondered if maybe she had not read the parchment wrong. There was no sign of anyone. Arya came to a stop, turning slowly to look in every direction. The sound of a breaking twig floated to her ears behind her, and she closed her eyes, knowing he was there. She could hear him softly breathing. Arya raised her hand towards the hilt of the blade, ready to strike him if she needed to. She would not be taken again.

Slowly, she turned towards him. He stood several feet away. He was wearing the face of the Jaqen she remembered from Harrenhal. For some strange reason it comforted her to see him as she remembered, and not to see him with the new face from Bravvos.

"A girl comes quickly," he breathed.

"A man should be dead."

Jaqen's lips twitched at this. "A man kills only when he feels the time is right. A man has not felt the time was right."

"Why are you here?" Arya asked, the hand on the hilt of her sword tightening.

Jaqen took a step towards her and on instinct, Arya took a step back. She did not trust him, no matter how much comfort his face brought her. He would slit her throat without so much as a thought.

"I have come to return something that was lost to a girl, and to beg her for the final time to take back a man's name. A man knows what threatens Westeros, a man would stand and fight if only his name would be taken back."

Arya's heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second as she watched him pull something from his back. What he held out before him was a representation of home, of Winterfell. It was Jon's smile and Robb's laughter. It was the love shared between her mother and father. It was the free spirit of Bran and the innocence of Rickon. It was the hope that love truly existed in Sansa. In his hands, Jaqen was holding Needle.

She stepped closer to him, forgetting her fear. The only thing she cared for, the only thing that mattered, was Needle. Jaqen allowed her to take it, and stepped back. Arya closed her eyes against the feel of the sword in her hands once more. How she had missed this piece of her.

"A girl only has to take back a name, and our swords are hers," Jaqen whispered.

"Why would you help us? What does the Faceless men hope to achieve?"

"Someone has paid handsomely for our services. He requires that each of the thirty men that came with me kill one hundred Wildlings. Not just that, Arya, but these creatures will not stop at Westeros. A man fears that Bravvos would be next."

"Who would do such a thing?" Arya wondered out loud.

Again, Jaqen's lips twitched. "It is not a man's place to ask such things. A girl should remember that."

Arya held Needle to her chest. She looked away from him for a few moments, thinking about what she needed to do. He had returned Needle to her as a peace offering. He and his men would stand and fight. She had calmed from the once rage-filled girl she used to be.

"Jaqen," Arya began, but stopped. She felt the hopelessness fall back on her again. She felt the blackness of the night grow darker. "If you stay and fight with us, what good would it do me to unsay your name? There is no hope of winning this war. For you to die in battle, it would be a waste."

"Yet, a man would die by his own choosing and not that of another. A girl was once a friend, or as close to a friend as a man has ever had. In her eyes, a man does not see the pain and anger that was once present. A man sees the innocence of a child he remembers from Harrenhal. Unsay a man's name, Arya...please," he whispered.

Arya closed the gap between them, lowering Needle to her side. She placed her palm over his heart, feeling its beats. In some weird, unhealthy way, she had been his friend, and he had been hers. In the darkest part of her life, Jaqen had been there.

"I take back Jaqen H'ghar's name," Arya whispered.

She watched his eyes close, felt his chest heave beneath her palm. It was as if he were a man awakened again. His hand came up to cover hers. Bowing his head low, he stepped away from her and turned to leave.

"Jaqen, please! Please, go home," she begged.

His stopped and turned halfway to look at her. "A man will stay and fight, and then a man will go home."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness. Arya stood and stared at where he went for a long time afterward. Finally, she turned and made her way back towards the camp. As she got closer, she noticed that the music had slowed down in rhythm and the laughter had faded somewhat. Curious, she turned towards where the group of people had been instead of going towards her tent. Most of the men had retired for the night, but a few remained. Gendry was one of them. She watched him standing before a large bonfire, his eyes staring into the red flames. Arya walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his waste. The moment she touched him, she felt him sigh heavily. He turned his head to the side to look at her out of the corner of his eye. He smiled at her softly.

"Dance with me?" he whispered.

"Okay," she answered.

He took her hand, guiding her towards where Tom Sevenstrings sat playing his soft music. Arya melted into his arms, breathing in his scent. He pulled her closely to him, burying his nose in her hair. She could feel the tension in his body. Everything they would not share together crashed down on her in that moment. All of the memories they would not make together weighed on her shoulders, and Arya grabbed Gendry tighter. Her eyes slammed shut against the pain, against the tears. Everything would be over tomorrow. Their future would ceased to exist. She let out a ragged breath, for she could not hold it in against the emotions reeking havoc inside.

"Remember when we first met? The horrible journey to Harrenhall? Remember the hell we've gone through to get to each other?" he asked, softly.

Arya nodded her head, for she could not make her voice work. A single tear ran down her cheek, soaking into the fabric of Gendry's shirt. He held her tighter, taking a long, deep breath in her hair.

"Now I want you to remember something else," he breathed in her ear. "I want you to close your eyes, Arya. I want you to close your eyes and listen only to my voice."

She did as she was told, yet the tears still spilled through her closed eyelids. Gendry leaned back a little, pressing his lips to her temple.

"You and I are sitting on the porch of a cottage. We are surrounded by trees of all shapes and colors. You belly is swelling with our child. I rub your feet, reminding you of how beautiful you are to me. It is that same cottage, years later, and we are sitting on that porch watching a boy and girl running through the yard. The boy has my looks and your temper. The girl has your looks and my stubbornness." Arya chuckled, though she felt no happiness in that moment. "Still, years later we are sitting upon that porch. Our hair has grown white with age, yet our love has grown stronger with each passing year. Not only are we watching our children, but our grandchildren as well. Nymeria is there, running around the yard and chasing the children." Gendry stopped, clearing his throat as if something has lodged within it. "L—laughter can be heard around us. There is no talk of war, no talk of death. There is only love and family and gods how I wish I could give this all to you," he cried. "Would that I could change our fate, Arya. I would with no question or worry of consequence."

Arya squeezed him, shushing him. "I do not need any of that," she whispered. "All I have ever needed was you, Gendry. After everything we have been through, all I needed was you."

He leaned back, placing his lips upon her cheek, his tears soaking into her skin. "You have always been the best part of me. I cannot even remember my life before you, Arya. Whatever comes tomorrow, I want you to know that you have made me feel more love and joy that I ever thought possible. Before you, I had no one. After you, I had all I needed."

They continued their dance as the men and woman around them went to bed. Tom Sevenstrings never stopped playing, but allowed his haunting music to float around them. Arya and Gendry held tightly to each other, whispering their words of love. They whispered of the past, of the present and things they would never have together in the future. Arya drank in every word he said, every promise she knew he could not really make, yet he tried. As the dawn drew nearer, the understanding that they would be separated by death was becoming more real. She could not get close enough to him.

Gendry captured her lips with his, begging entrance into her mouth with his tongue. She welcomed him, taking him in and memorizing the taste of him. His fingers skimmed across her neck, moving her long hair aside and causing goosebumps to break out on her skin. She did not argue when he picked her up in his arms, nor did they break their contact. His tongue touched hers, causing her to moan inside his mouth. Arya did not open her eyes to see where he was taking her. It did not matter as long as he was with her.

When they came inside the tent, he sat her gently on her feet, yet continued to kiss her. Arya whimpered when his lips left hers, but the whimpering only lasted for just a moment as he trailed kisses down her jaw. His lips touched the sensitive part of her neck, causing her to hiss in satisfaction. Her fingers dug into the fabric on his back. He raised his hand, softly grabbing the collar of her shirt and moving it out of his way. His knuckles tickled her neck, causing her to squirm and giggle. Gendry chuckled at this, his breath dancing upon her skin. Arya grabbed the back of his head, pushing him further into her neck, for she could not get enough of his touch. She needed more of him.

His hands left the collar of her shirt, sliding down her arms and her sides, until they stopped at her waist. Gendry grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up. More goosebumps broke out as fabric and hands touched her delicate skin. He moved his kisses back up her neck to her jaw. Arya raised her arms, allowing him to pull her shirt over her head. For just a moment, he leaned away from her to remove her shirt. Arya felt a moment of insecurity as she stood before Gendry topless. Her arms immediately came up, covering her breasts from his eyes.

Arya averted her eyes from his, but she could feel them burning in to her. "No," he whispered, his voice husky. He gently grabbed her arms, removing them from his view. She took a chance and looked at him. His lips were parted as his eyes drank her in. "I wish you could see yourself as I do, Arya. I wish you could see just how beautiful you truly are."

Gendry pulled her to him again, kissing her neck again. His arms came around her, his hands touching the skin of her back softly. His fingernails moved from the nape of her neck, down to the very bottom of her back, scraping softly. Arya felt a tickle begin to grow in the bottom of her stomach. Everywhere her naked skin showed, Gendry would touch with the softest of kisses. Her body needed more, was begging for more. His lips moved from her neck down towards her collar bone. He kissed there for a few moments, but continued to work his way down. His tongue darted out, tasting the saltiness of her skin. It caused Arya to moan softly again. She felt embarrassed for such a sound coming from her mouth, but there was no way of stopping it. It seemed that her body was starting to work on its on. She was helpless to control it, and all she could do was ride the feelings exploding inside of her.

His lips dipped lower and lower, until she felt them on the sensitive part of her breast. Arya's eyes rolled back, her hold tightening on the back of his head. Gendry kneaded and kissed, sucked and blew. Before Arya could stop it, she was moaning long and deep. She whispered his name, begged him not to stop, begged him for more and more. She could feel him growing hard against her, and it only made her feel more excited. Arya felt heat and moisture between her legs, felt the tickling in her lower stomach become powerful and overwhelming.

She grabbed his arms, pushing him away, and grabbing at his shirt. Her movements were jerky and needful. She growled in frustration when his shirt would not be removed so easily. Gendry chuckled again, reaching down to help her. His hands were laid upon hers as together they raised his shirt above his head. Yes, she had seen him shirtless before. Yes, it had been many, many times that her eyes had roamed over his abs and muscles, but never in such a setting as this. Arya found herself slowing her movements. She found her eyes roaming from his face to his neck, to his collarbone down to his nipples. She roamed from his nipples to the hardness of his stomach. She drank in the dark hair upon his chest to his belly button. The line of hair that started below his belly button and disappeared underneath his pants caused her mind to explode. Arya wanted to explore where that hair went.

A shaking hand reached out, touching the dark hair upon his chest. It was so soft against her skin. Gendry remained as still as stone as she explored with hands and eyes. She leaned in to him, touching his collar bone with her lips. The smell of him caused her eyes to close. She memorized the smell of him, memorized the touch of his skin. Her hands explored his chest, while her lips did some exploring of their own. She felt him jerk as her fingernails scraped the sensitive part of his stomach. His muscles rippled under her palms. She could feel his strength, could taste his masculinity. Gendry reached behind her, holding her long hair back as she moved down his chest leaving trails of kisses and licks in her wake. She reached his belly button, dipping her tongue inside it. Gendry hissed above her head, moaning her name softly. She could not help but to smile, to feel powerful.

She slowly moved back up his stomach, his chest and towards his lips again. This time, their kissing was more possessive, more needy. His hands moved down her side again, reaching her pants. Gendry let go of her lips, only to move back to her breasts. As he caused the sensations to run overboard in her stomach, his hands began to slowly remove her pants. Before she was aware of what was happening, Arya stood completely naked before him. He did not give her time to feel embarrassed, did not give her time to feel shy, as he pulled her towards him. Flesh against flesh, heat against heat, Gendry picked

Arya up from the ground. He walked them slowly towards the bed, their lips never parting.

Gendry laid Arya down on the bed, standing over her to stare. The only light came from a few candles around the tent. The flicker of the flames cast their light upon her body as his hooded eyes looked upon her. She allowed him to look, not feeling embarrassed as she had before.

"Perfection," he whispered.

Arya slowly sat up, raising her face to stare up at him. Her hands reached out, grabbing the top of his pants. She never looked away from his blue eyes as she lowered the last remaining barrier from his body. He ran his knuckles softly over her cheeks, his lips smiling down upon her. They were red and slightly swollen where she had kissed him so hard, yet they looked wonderful. When his pants were removed, her eyes fell to his manhood, which stood erect and waiting for her. Though, again, she had seen it before, it felt as if it were the first time. She did not know much about lovemaking, but she wasn't scared, for she trusted Gendry above all other. He would take care of her.

After she got her fill of drinking him in, he leaned her back against the bed. She felt him crawl on top of her, felt his skin slide against her skin. She felt his manhood move up her leg, lying erect at her thigh. Suddenly, the sensations inside her stomach moved further down and she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her. Gendry resumed his exploring of her body with his lips and hands. He took his time, kissing every inch of her. His hands played upon her stomach, causing her to giggle against his hair. He moved his hands further down, until they rested on her thigh.

"Do you trust me, Arya?" Gendry whispered.

"Yes," she answered, no hesitation in her voice.

His hand moved to the most sensitive part of her body. They gently moved inside her and her body thrust upwards without her help. She moaned, feeling a feeling that she had never felt before. Gendry kissed and licked at her stomach, whispering her name against her skin. Her hands grabbed a fist-full of his hair, yet she did not yank it, far too afraid to ruin the moment. His finger moved further inside, and she cried out his name.

"Gendry!" she moaned.

They began a slow rhythm at first, causing her brain to quit working. She could not think, could not form the words to describe what she was feeling. The feeling Gendry was producing within her was taking her under, drowning her deep within a pool of feelings and sensations she had never known. His lips upon her skin only added to everything already happening within her.

Tears filled her eyes, yet Arya did not understand why. She wasn't sad or unhappy, nor was she scared or frightened. She was on another level, one that had no name.

"Arya?" Gendry whispered.

When she looked down at him, his eyes were staring at her. He could see the tears begin to run down her face. In an instant, his fingers were gone from within her, and he scooted back up to lie next to her.

"What is it? Have I done something?"

She tried to smile at him, but found she could not. Her fingers went to his lips, barely touching them. "Everything is...perfect," she was able to say, though it was barely audible. Gendry reached up, wiping the tears from her face. His lips took the place of his fingers, taking her tears into himself. Her mother had never told her how intimate lovemaking really was. Old Nan never told her stories of how two souls could become so close, as if they were one, when giving one's self to another. The knowledge of what awaited them on the morrow made Arya want to feel Gendry as close to her as she possibly could, yet she never knew it would feel like this. She never knew she could love him more than she already did.

Arya reached her hand down, taking his manhood into her palm. She began to slowly stroke him. Gendry's eyes fluttered closed, his head coming down to lay in the crook of her neck. She felt his body shudder with every stroke, felt his muscles tense with each passing second. She felt his breath upon her neck, heard her name fall from his lips so sweetly, as if he were in a prayer. His hands touched her everywhere. They began to moan together, began to call to one another. Arya began to stroke faster. Finally, Gendry grabbed her hand, stopping her movements at once.

He climbed on top of her, his hooded, blue eyes staring in to hers. He slowly leaned towards her lips, kissing them with feather-like touches. She felt him begin to enter her. Gendry moved to her neck, to the place that drove her wild with lust every time he kissed and licked her. Arya wrapped her arms around his back, desperate to bring him closer to her. The moment he entered her, everything suddenly stopped, and she cried out in pain.

Gendry froze his movements at once. Not even a breath was fe