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Chapter Text

Arry left King’s Landing as one of several Flea Bottom orphan lads, after Yoren had convinced them to exchange their lives as gutter rats in the capital for a life of service in the Night’s Watch. Warm beds and hot meals awaited them there, the old crow had said. There up north at the Wall. And what more convincing should orphan lads need to leave this horrible place behind.

They rode on donkeys through the city gates and none of them had reason to look back. Least of all Arry, he had lost everything in that vile lion’s den. First, they had taken his friends – Nymeria and Mycah – before he had even set foot into King’s Landing. And that loss had made it even harder for him to accustom to this strange place. It had taken him almost half a year to get used to the heat in the south, to the awful smells in the capital and its backstabbing deceiving people.

And then after a year, once he had finally started to like something about his new life in the south, all hell had broken loose. Of a sudden the city had turned against him. He still didn’t know what had happened, why those monsters had one good day decided to butcher all and everyone he had held dear in the capital. No one had escaped the massacre but him. Shadows, cellars and sewers had shielded Arry from the murderous eyes of those who hunted him. He had tried to get out of the city, but it had been impossible. There had been no way out. They had looked for him everywhere, except in that shithole they called Flea Bottom. So, there he had hid for two fortnights. Even though the downtrodden area had its own different kind of monsters trying to prey on him, but those he had been able to manage, holding them at bay with his pointy blade.

He must have still been in shock, must have still hoped that it all had been just a nightmare that he hadn’t woken up from yet, when literally the entire city had called for his father’s head at steps of the Great Sept of Baelor, where he had stood helpless amidst the blood-lusting crowds to witness it all. There, Yoren had found him and had kept him from watching it. The black brother of the Night’s Watch had prevented the picture of his father’s execution to enter Arry’s memory. But not the sounds, that awful expecting silence right before the sword had come down onto his father’s neck. And then that short odd noise, followed by the crowds’ ecstatic cheering. There and then the orphan boy Arry had been born. Before that he had had a family, friends and a different life.

Now he was heading north on the kingsroad amongst thirty other Night’s Watch recruits. That had been his way out, finally. North, that was as far away from that dreadful place as possible, Arry thought. North, was where he wanted to be.

The other recruits soon started to befriend one another, apart from the three men locked in the cage. No one was to go near those, Yoren had said. He had found them in the black cells under the Red Keep; and needn’t to say more to make the rest of his band keep their distance.

Arry however stayed away from everyone, not just from the three in the cage. He kept to himself, like Yoren had told him. It was easy to follow that order, Arry preferred to be alone anyway, he didn’t feel like making new friends. He had had friends. And they all had been taken from him, so why make new ones? So, they could be taken from him as well? Or so he would forget his old ones? Never. No, he wouldn’t forget, none of them and not what had been done to them. Never, he swore to the old gods and the new.

Only the other recruits didn’t get it and seemed to think Arry weak, that he would keep to himself because he was too shy and scared of them. After all he was the youngest and smallest in Yoren’s band. And so eventually two of the Flea Bottom street rats decided, he were an easy target to pick on. The skinny one was called Lommy Greenhands, because of his mottled green arms from his time as a dyer’s apprentice; before he had been caught stealing. While the fat one was called Hot Pie. He had been a baker’s boy and had gotten his odd name from helping his mother selling hot pies from a cart before she had died.

While Lommy only called him names like ‘lumpyhead’ from afar, he never seemed to tire of giving Hot Pie new reasons to pick on Arry. Bloody craven. They both thought themselves so clever for targeting the scrawny smaller lad. Yet, once they laid their greedy eyes on his blade, they had made a mistake. A big one, which they quickly came to regret. That blade had been a gift from Jon. The only thing left from Arry’s old life, so he would have rather died than giving it up without a fight.

But the two fools didn’t know that, as Hot Pie rode nearer to Arry, trying to intimidate him into handing the blade over. While Lommy called insulting names from behind. As if that would scare him. Hot Pie even told a made-up story, how he once had kicked a boy to death and threatened to do the same with Arry.

In his old life Arry would have just laughed at the baker’s boy, calling him a liar. But now he remained silent, intent to ignore the two idiots. Or at least he did so until Hot Pie finally got bold enough to reach for his blade. Fool. The fat lad was so focussed on snatching the blade from its scabbard, he never saw Arry’s wooden training sword coming down onto his arm, hitting him so hard that he fell off his donkey. And Arry speedily got off his own, pointing the wooden sword at the older lad’s neck, “You’re a liar and a coward. You never killed anyone. But I did, with this blade. A fat boy like you it was. And I think, I like killing fat boys, so you better stay away from me…” he shouted, before turning to threaten Lommy as well, “The both of you.”

But then of a sudden a young man, who Lommy and Hot Pie had started calling ‘the Bull’, warned Arry, “Watch out, behind you!” making him swiftly whirl around to see Hot Pie holding a rock in his hand, about to throw it at him. So, Arry hit him anew with his training sword, again and again.
Not hearing his soon following outcries, “I yield! Yield! Yield!” Arry kept beating him until someone bigger grabbed him from behind and made him stop.
“He’s had enough. Look, he pissed himself.” it was the Bull, “They won’t bother you again, or else I’ll hit them. Both of them.” he assured, drawing Arry’s attention back to Lommy, who looked like he wet himself too. Though, Arry couldn’t tell if that was due to what he had done to his friend or because of the Bull’s threat. Probably the latter. The Bull was taller and looked stronger than most lads his age. He undoubtedly was older than Arry and also seemed older than the two idiots. He could scare grown men off, just by scowling at them, Arry thought.

Right when Yoren came to the scene, demanding to know what the fuck were going on there, making Arry realise that their entire column had come to a stop to stare at the four of them. And of course, then Lommy found his voice again to immediately accuse Arry of attacking Hot Pie like a wild animal for no reason. That shitty coward. “That’s a lie!” the Bull snarled, “The two of you picked on the little one ever since we passed the city gates and just now you tried to steal his sword, he only defended himself.”
“Is that so?” Yoren stared each of them down, causing the two bigmouths to flinch and mumble something like ‘sorry’. So, the old crow told them to ride closer to the front from now on; where he could keep them safe from any further animal attacks. Before he grabbed Arry ungently by the arm to drag him away from the others, “Told you to stay out of trouble and keep to yourself, didn’t I? Just like I told you that I can’t watch you all the time, because that’d raise suspicions and we don’t want that, don’t we?” Yoren warned him angrily and returned to his steed, ordering for their column to move again. Further north, further away from King’s Landing.

“Name’s Gendry.” the Bull eventually spoke, after riding next to Arry in silence for almost an hour. He had kept mostly to himself too and hadn’t seemed interested in befriending other recruits either. Or at least Arry hadn’t seen him talking to others. So why now? And why me? Arry wondered and didn’t respond. Yoren had told him to stick to himself and so he would. No friends meant no one could hurt him, ever again. End of story.

Chapter Text

The further north they got, the bumpier the kingsroad seemed to get. So before long, Lommy proclaimed that his body were too sore to climb back onto his donkey and that he needed a day to rest before they could continue their journey. He clearly had hoped for other recruits to support his request, but unsurprisingly no one dared to admit they felt similarly sore from riding; at least not within Yoren’s earshot. Who predictably wouldn’t have it, telling Lommy to get his sorry arse back onto that donkey of his, or else he would walk for the next three days.

But thoughtless as the former dyer’s apprentice was, he countered that he gladly would walk all the way up to the Wall, since anything were better than a stupid scrawny donkey under his arse. Which certainly must have sounded tempting to Yoren, but he knew just as well as Arry that a walking Lommy would have slowed them down forever. A risk, the black brother thankfully wasn’t willing to take, suggesting, “Alright, princess, how about a ride on a cart then?” Yet, just when Lommy’s eyes lit up, the old crow added, “How about that one over there, with the cage?” making the lad go pale as cream and get back onto his donkey; faster than Arry had thought him able to. In another life he would have bubbled over with laughter at this scene.

But this was his life now. Arry was a Night’s Watch recruit and Yoren had told him his travel companions were all bastards; but not the kind of bastard Arry had known. If they would find out that the queen wanted him, half of them would turn him over for a pardon and a bit of silver and the other half would do the same, only they would rape him first. Therefore, the hardest part would be not to give any of them reason to take a closer look at him. No, they wouldn’t find out. He would play his part and they would be in the North before they knew and he would be safe, Arry had vowed to himself then.

Only Yoren had been wrong, the nights actually were the hardest part. Although Arry was dog-tired from all day riding, every night he lay awake, trying not to think about … King’s Landing, before he eventually would doze off to sleep. And somehow it seemed to get harder and harder to hold his grief and memories at bay, to prevent them from overwhelming him. He would be strong, and he would get north, Arry told himself at night. Yet, come morning he each time woke red-eyed, with no tear left to shed. Of course, he always made sure the others wouldn’t see. Whenever they set up camp for the night, he would place his blanket on the outskirts, a good deal away from the others and the campfires. Near the treeline, so he could steal off in case he needed to make water … or run.

Fortunately, the grown men never seemed to give a damn about him, and since he had beaten up Hot Pie, the other lads now also stayed away from him. Some even seemed to be afraid of him. And he would keep it that way.

If only it weren’t for that stupid Bull, who somehow seemed to find more and more ways to stick around, ever since he had pulled him off the baker’s boy. What was that one up to? Arry didn’t need anyone to stand up for him. He had proven that much, hadn’t he? He could deal with any of them, or so he liked to tell himself. Fear cuts deeper than swords, he thought, recalling the kind voice that had said those words all this time ago. Maybe he was dim-witted? Arry wondered, since anyone with a functioning brain should be able to read the signs. That he wasn’t interested… in whatever that stupid Bull wanted from him.

Come nightfall the day after he had beaten the shit out of Hot Pie, the Bull had handed Arry a blanket – one without any holes – before he had even queued up to get one for himself. He was always amongst the last ones to get their blankets or share of food; to not give anyone reason to take notice of him. Fuck, he couldn’t refuse the Bull’s blanket, Arry had realised furiously then – at least not without drawing attention to himself. It wasn’t like he needed a blanket, they were still in the crownlands. So Arry only ever went to get one to not make anyone wonder why he wouldn’t need one. He could still easily stay away from the campfires, where most of the recruits gathered as soon as they were lit. Bloody fools. How cold did they think the North was? Arry wasn’t cold, he was of the… he didn’t even dare to think it. No one must know.

But unfortunately the Bull mistook Arry’s accepting of the hole-free blanket for an invitation to go on with whatever he was doing. As he continued getting him one of the good blankets ever since. Worse even, the Bull’s blanket seemed to wander closer to Arry’s by the night. Which only made him more intent to stay away from that stupid Bull. Who just didn’t seem to get it. Only two days later he not only saved Arry one of the good blankets, but also started handing him bowls of food every day, so Arry wouldn’t solely live of the leftovers anymore. He hated it.

Of course, Arry had lost a bit of weight in Flea Bottom. It had taken him a couple of days to learn his way around there – where to sleep and hide and where to get food and clean water. And yes, he had lost some more weight now on the kingsroad. Arry knew damn well, he would have gotten even thinner, if he would have continued to just keep to himself. And it made him so mad, to know that if he wouldn’t need to keep his head down, he could get better blankets and bigger portions all on his own. Sure, he was smaller and younger than the other lads, but he could best them still. Wasn’t Hot Pie living proof of that? Arry hated it to be so reliant on the Bull and decided fumingly, but that doesn’t mean I’ve to talk to him.

“You do know, the Night’s Watch isn’t the silent sisters, right?” the Bull asked as if he had heard his thought. Enough! Arry decided to rather starve himself than giving that stupid idiot the satisfaction that he was dependent on him.
“Would you just stop with… whatever this is.” he hissed.
“So, you can speak?” the Bull teased amused, “I was beginning to think I’d only imagined your shouting the other day.”
“You make me look weak.” Arry struggled to keep his voice down.
“No one thinks you weak. Not after what you did to that Hot Pie lad, rest assured.” the Bull claimed, “Unless of course you go on with that barely sleeping, barely eating thing of yours.” Was he pitying him? How dare he?
“Save your pity for yourself! I don’t need you to look after me. I can take care of myself.” Arry snarled outraged.
“Sure, you can.” the older lad agreed, only to disagree an instant later, “But thing is, the Night’s Watch is all about looking after other people. Be it guarding the Seven Kingdoms or protecting the black brother right next to you. And since we’re both recruits now…” he placed a hand on Arry’s shoulder, probably meant to comfort or calm him. But it had the opposite effect, Arry flinched reflexively at the unexpected touch, which then made the Bull give him even more concerned looks. Great, more stupid Bull pity.

Arry stormed off to gather some more firewood for the game one of the poachers had shot that day; yet he followed right behind. Making Arry conclude for good, he truly must be dim-witted. But at least he kept his stupid mouth shut again. And back at camp the Bull brought him once more a blanket and a bowl of hot stew, with an extra portion of meat this time.

Which Arry gulped down greedily, but of course that came at a price. For that night, the Bull’s blanket lay only six feet away, and once Arry didn’t make any attempts to move his own, that idiot actually had the audacity to smile to himself. “Doesn’t mean we’re friends now, stupid.” Arry growled, tired of rebuffing him. What good was it anyway, when he so evidently was too blockheaded to get it? Yet, that then even made the Bull chuckle, so Arry had to throw a stick at him to make him stop.

They continued riding side by side the next morning, and the following day Arry even waited for him to catch up, after he had helped fixing one of the carts that had been about to lose its wheel. Before then the day after that, Arry eventually told him, “Name’s Arry.” But this time the Bull didn’t respond. Though, once Arry side-glanced at him to check if he had even heard it, he saw the Bull grinning widely. His company wasn’t so bad after all. Well, as long as he kept that stupid mouth of his shut.

Chapter Text

Throughout the past fortnight on the kingsroad, they had seen more and more folk heading south. First it had been mostly women, children and old men with farm animals walking quietly past them. But soon they had seen bigger groups, as if whole villages were on the move. And more often they had passed by armed folk, carrying all kind of weapons. A few had had swords, but the most had carried pitchforks, clubs and sticks, giving their group all but friendly looks. Some had even shouted, “Fools!” at them, but none had stopped to explain themselves. And soon after they had come by the first graves, mounds of recently dug soil lined up alongside the kingsroad at more frequent intervals. Something was amiss. Horribly amiss. At first, Arry had thought he was the only one feeling alarmed, until he had noticed both Yoren and the Bull – Gendry – also seemed to get more uneasy and brooding by the day.

Yet, somehow not all Night’s Watch recruits wondered, if they were the only ones travelling north now. Some didn’t seem to understand at all what armed folk and graves on the kingsroad meant. They cheered, once they came by an inn in the afternoon and Yoren announced that they would stay there for the night, promising them all hot meals and ale. They were entirely ignorant of why he really stopped there; and the old crow made no move to end their obliviousness.

He just ordered their camp to be set up along the treeline near the inn and proclaimed, everyone who felt like it could use the inn’s bathhouse. And Arry most certainly felt like it. Desperately, even. He had never imagined, he could long for a bath as bad as he did now. His brothers undoubtedly would have a good laugh at him for that. For when he was little, they almost had to restrain him to keep him inside a bathtub. Back then he had wished, he would never have to have another bath again. Well, be careful what you wish for, Arry thought now sullenly, knowing damn well that the bathhouse was no option for him.

Having Gendry constantly hovering over him, shielding him against any advances from the other recruits, made many things easier for Arry – like allowing him to act bolder and more openly towards the other recruits. Though, when it came to things like bathing, Gendry’s protection was of no use at all. Concerning those things, Gendry’s watchfulness had even complicated Arry’s life. A lot. On the road, he couldn’t just sneak off into the woods anymore, he had to find excuses now to make water. By nightfall at camp it was easier, but Arry still had to wait until Gendry had dozed off, before he could sneak into the woods to change clothes and to have a wash at some small brook or spring. Arry had to follow a strict daily routine now: Making water and the like after Gendry had fallen asleep and again before he would awake come sunrise. He drank as little as possible during the day and all the more in the evening at camp.

But thankfully Yoren thought of those things, too. He had handed Arry a piece of soap, while they both had kept watch on the second night on the road. “Keep it hidden and use it canny, boy, you don’t want to smell of soap when the others hadn’t had a wash for days, understood?” the black brother had warned then. But he also made sure, Arry had opportunities to be alone in the woods and fields. Whenever they stopped for a short midday rest or made camp for the night, Yoren always tasked him to gather firewood or wild berries or mushrooms and roots. He would then say something like, “Arry, you don’t seem too tired from the ride, go on, make yourself useful and fetch us something to spice up that stew.” making the other recruits rather think that the old crow tried to toughen him up, than suspecting he were going easy on the smallest of them.

And luckily most of their band were bone-lazy anyway, all too glad to finally get off their donkeys and rest. So, Arry and Gendry – who always offered to help him – were usually the only ones in the nearby woods and fields around camp, as the poachers typically went far deeper into the forest. Hence Arry only had to sneak out of Gendry’s eyeshot for a little while, which he somehow always managed. Alone in the woods, Gendry suddenly seemed fine with only staying within one another’s earshot. Arry had wondered about that at first, but had come to the conclusion that the older lad probably just assumed, the woods were a safer place than the road or their camp.

So now at the inn, it came as no surprise that Gendry only headed to the bathhouse after he had deemed the common room a safe space, leaving Arry in Yoren’s company. Who promptly used the opportunity to ask the boy, if he were alright with the Bull constantly following him around, “You’ll tell me, if the lad tries anything.” But Arry assured it were fine, that Gendry only wanted to be helpful. “Good.” Yoren said, “Then let’s see if we can’t find out what’s going on in the riverlands here, huh?” And indeed, the people at the inn were more willing to talk to strangers.

Though, Arry didn’t pay too much attention to the first few people the black brother approached. Most of what these folks said sounded like horror stories … from Old Nan, the boy caught himself thinking.

Until someone started talking about wolves, two-legged and four-legged ones coming down the Neck to fight the lions. At that, Arry suddenly listened closely. Some men even claimed, the northerners would have crowned themselves a king. The Young Wolf they would call him, and he would lead his army riding a gigantic grey beast. Robb. Arry felt his heart skip a beat, as hope found its way back into his mind. And then the boy even heard tales of an enormous she-wolf, who would lead a pack of hundreds or even thousands man-killers somewhere by the Gods Eye. Could it be…? No! He couldn’t let himself clutch to false hope again, Arry reprimanded himself.

Right before a woman joined their conversation, claiming her cousin would have seen the she-wolf walk into town in broad daylight to tear a babe from his mother’s arms. “Liar! They don’t prey on babies.” slipped from Arry’s lips before he even knew. Stupid! False hope had made him cast prudence to the wind.
Thus, Arry swallowed loudly when Yoren grabbed him by the collar, “You shut your drunken mouth, green boy! Outside with you, and don’t let me see your face in here again until you’ve learned to hold your tongue when grown folk talk.”

The old crow didn’t have to ask twice. Arry stood panting outside the tavern, trying to shut the voice in the back of his head out that told him there was hope now. That not all were lost. That his brother would have come south with the northern army to get him. He had to get away. Now! Without a second thought, Arry snatched his bundle and made for the woods. With Gendry still waiting in line for a bath and everyone else busying themselves with gulping down their ales, Arry had no trouble to steal away unseen.

And once past the treeline, he started running as fast as he could. Robb was out there, somewhere. And so was she. He just needed to find them, they would protect him … Yet, when he came across a small brook, logic got the upper hand again. What the hells was he doing? Had he forgotten what he’d seen on the kingsroad? Arry splashed his face with the brook’s cold water, to calm down and clear his head of silly thoughts and foolish hopes. He wasn’t safe alone on the run. It was smarter to stick with Yoren’s band. For now, until he found out where exactly Robb was.

And at least something good came from his folly, as he had found himself a bathtub of his own. Although the brook was cold, it was deep enough and its current fast. So Arry could quickly wash himself, slip into some spare clothes and clean the ones he had worn before.

Yet, on his way back to the inn, Arry thought frantically of excuses he could tell, in case someone would have noticed his absence. But luckily no one had, as Gendry apparently was still in the bathhouse. Hence, Arry decided to wait for him on the doorsteps of the inn, where of a sudden a friendly strange voice called out, “Boy, lovely boy.” It was one of the men in irons, the youngest of three in the cage. The one with the red and white hair, the handsome one. Well, next to the other two probably anyone would have looked handsome, Arry assumed and approached warily. “A man could use another taste of beer. A man has a thirst, wearing these heavy bracelets.” the slender fine-featured man claimed. Yet, when Arry didn’t move to get him one, he suggested smiling, “A boy could make a friend.”
“I have friends.” Arry replied deadpan.
“None I can see.” the squat thick one without a nose countered, a threatening tone in his voice. While the pale bald man hissed at Arry like a snake, before he opened his mouth wide, waggling his tongue. Fear cuts deeper than swords, Arry reminded himself.

“A man does not choose his companions in the black cells. These two have no courtesy. A man must ask forgiveness.” the handsome one said, the way he spoke reminded Arry somehow of another strange voice. A kind voice from his past. “You are called Arry?” the man went on when Arry remained silent, yet didn’t walk away either.
“Lumpyhead.” the noseless mocked, “Lumpyhead Lumpyface Stickboy. Have a care, Lorath, he’ll hit you with his stick.” Calm as still water, fierce as a wolverine. Arry didn’t like at all that they apparently had watched him close enough to know those names.
“A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry.” the polite stranger said and introduced himself, “This man has the honour to be Jaqen H’ghar, once from the free city of Lorath,” And then the two others, “This man’s ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge,” the one without a nose, “and Biter. Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed?”

“No.” Arry retorted coolly, to not sound afraid. Rorge and Biter had something monstrous about them. Rorge reminded Arry of a drawing he had once seen of a black hairy ape from the Summer Isles. Whereas Biter reminded him of an immense white lizard, with his yellowed pointy filed teeth.
“You get us some beer, pimple. Now!” Rorge ranted and flung his drinking cup at Arry, “Or else I’ll shove that stick up your bunghole and fuck you bloody.”
Only, Arry was in the mood for a fight after what had happened in the common room and hence stepped even closer to the cage now, stopping just out of their arms’ reach, “Should’ve asked nicely.” he snarled boldly.
“A boy has more courage than sense.” Jaqen H’gar remarked amused.
When suddenly Gendry’s voice came from behind, “What’re you doing?” he sounded slightly alarmed, “We’re not supposed to go near those three.”
“Don’t scare me.” Arry snorted, not breaking eye contact with Rorge.
“Then you’re stupid. They scare me.” Gendry scolded and pulled him away from the wagon, away from Rorge’s roaring laughter and Biter’s hisses.

“How could you let them know, you’re afraid of them?” Arry hissed fuming once they were out of earshot.
“Why claim otherwise, when they already know I am?” Gendry shot back unapologetic.
“Because you never show your enemy that you fear them, stupid.” Arry rolled his eyes at the older lad’s lack of such basic common sense.
“Oh, so you rattling their cage to convince them that you’re not, was a smart thing to do?” Gendry scoffed and raised his brows to emphasise that he thought the opposite. Which led to Arry giving him the silent treatment once more, for the first time since he had told him his name. He truly was a stupid idiot bull.

Yet, when Gendry eventually suggested, “How about we go to the woods and you show me what you can do with that sword of yours?” Arry just couldn’t resist to follow him past the treeline, even though he knew Gendry had only suggested it to get him to talk again.

A few days back, Gendry had asked, if he would get to see his blade and once Arry had drawn it from its scabbard, he had been in awe, “That’s castle forged steel. How did you get it?”
“Didn’t steal it.” Arry had snapped offended.
“Didn’t say you did…” Gendry had placated, though without lifting his eyes off the blade.
“It’s called Needle.” Arry had given away then, “It was a gift, from my brother. Jon.” and had quickly added, “And he didn’t steal it either.”
“Needle.” Gendry had smiled at that, “Good name for it.” So, Arry had even allowed him to hold it and Gendry had examined the sword closely, before he eventually had asked, “Where’s he now, your brother? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Don’t know. Last I heard he was at Castle Black. To become a ranger, like Uncle Benjen.” Arry had said quietly, fighting back the tears that had threatened to spill then.
Whereas Gendry’s eyes had gone wide, “So, that’s why you’re here? Yoren’s taking you to your brother?” and Arry had only nodded, pushing back memories that tried to overwhelm him.

Chapter Text

They hadn’t gone far into the woods, when Gendry spotted the riders on the kingsroad. Arry’s heart nearly stopped, seeing it was gold cloaks heading towards the inn. Hence, he speedily grabbed Gendry’s arm and pulled him down to the overgrown forest ground. “Quiet like a shadow.” he whispered, even though Gendry had already ducked down beside him without hesitation.

And from there, barely twenty yards behind the treeline, they watched the gold cloaks ask the men outside the bathhouse, if they were the group meant to take the black. Fuck. Arry felt all remaining colour leave his face. Everyone there knew his name, and the gold cloaks would put two and two together… stupid, stupid. Why did he have to beat up Hot Pie?
“What is it?” Gendry whispered, staring at him puzzled.
“They’re looking for me.” Arry replied, unable to hide the panic in his voice.
“Why should gold cloaks want you?” Gendry questioned even more bewildered.

However, just then Yoren stepped out of the inn and approached the City Watchmen calmly. “We’ve a warrant from the king, for one of those gutter rats.” their apparent leader announced and handed the black brother a scroll of parchment. Which caused some of the recruits to reach for their weapons, they were clearly unwilling to return to the cells, Yoren had found them in.
“Thing is, those lads belong to the Night’s Watch now. That puts them beyond the reach of kings and queens.” the old crow proclaimed unimpressed, without ever reading the warrant.

“The king gives a shit about your Watch. You’ll give us the lad, or—” the gold cloak had been about to draw his sword.
But Yoren was quicker, he already pointed his dagger at the man’s inner thigh, “People worry so much about their throats, they forget about what’s down below. Now, I sharpened this blade just before breakfast. I could shave a spider’s arse with it, if I wanted to. Or I could nick this artery in your leg and once it’s nicked, no one around here knows how to un-nick it.” the old man threatened. Before he cool as ice reached for the gold cloak’s sword, “We’ll just keep that. And its scabbard, since you don’t mind.” forcing the City Watchman to begrudgingly open his sword belt and throw it to the ground. “The Night’s Watch thanks you. Good steel’s always needed on the Wall.” Yoren stated dry-witted, “Now, seems to me you have a choice. To either die here, a long way from home. Or you can ride back to your city and tell your masters, you didn’t find what you were looking for—”
“We’re looking for a lad named Gendry,” the gold cloak shouted defiantly for everyone to hear, “he’s carrying a bull’s head helmet.”
“No one here by that name!” Hot Pie shot back, even he held a rock to throw at them now.

While Arry stared thunderstruck at Gendry next to him. Seeing his fists clenched and his knuckles all white, made him think twice before he dared to ask, “What would the gold cloaks want with you? And what helmet is he talking about?”
“Left it with my master.” Gendry hissed, “The old fox must’ve sold it to some stupid twat, whilst sending them gold-hatted bastards on a wild goose chase.” as they both watched the City Watchmen turn tails.
“So, no one here knows it’s you they’re looking for?” Arry asked carefully.
“You do.” Gendry studied him now closely, “And Yoren.”
“Good.” Arry retorted, feeling somewhat relieved, “I won’t tell anyone, and neither will Yoren.” However, Gendry didn’t seem fully convinced of that, as he still studied him warily.

“The only problem could be, if someone’s figured out a connection between the ‘bull’s head helmet’ and Lommy and Hot Pie calling you ‘the Bull’.” Arry tried to cheer him up, “So, I suppose lucky you! Most of them are idiots, they probably won’t get it before we reach the Neck.” Yet, Gendry remained silent, so Arry went on, “Look, maybe we should get to know some of the others a bit better? Or at least give them some name they can call you by? Like, um…” he had to think of a good one, “how about Jory?”
“Why that one?” Gendry growled frowning.
“Jory’s a friend of mine, he’d protected me since I was little.” Arry explained, while his guilty conscious reminded him, and who’d died doing so.
“Fine, Jory it is then.” Gendry grumbled.
“It’s only until we’re in the North, then we’re safe and you can be yourself again.” Arry assured, to comfort Gendry as well as himself.

They both decided to stay in the woods for a little while longer, to calm down and to find an excuse for their absence during the gold cloaks’ visit – like something to eat that they could take back to camp. And indeed, they were lucky and stumbled soon across a field of blueberry bushes. From there, Arry ran straight back to the inn, to get buckets and Hot Pie and Lommy to help with the picking. They had come up with that stupid ‘Bull’, so it was just fair to use them laying this false trail.

“Hey, Hot Pie.” Arry approached the two idiots right away, startling them both. But he ignored their wincing and went on with his little scheme, “Um, about hitting you, I shouldn’t’ve done that. I’m really sorry. And, um, I’d like for us to be friends now.” Arry claimed, “Since we’re all in the Night’s Watch now and we’re all gonna be brothers soon, you know.”

The fat lad stared at him as if one of the donkeys had started talking to him, and therefore unsurprisingly he hesitated when Arry offered him his hand to shake. Damn, how much humble pie did he need to eat? “Listen, Jory and I found quite a bunch of blueberries in the woods and we thought, since you’re a baker’s boy, you and Lommy could help with the picking, so maybe we could make some pies tonight?” At that, Hot Pie’s eyes lit up with excitement. Caught you! And with Hot Pie, he naturally also had Lommy on the hook.

Still, when he led them into the woods, they carefully kept a distance. So, they were no complete fools. Good to know, Arry thought. But then all their caution towards him was forgotten, as soon as their eyes caught sight of the many blueberry bushes. “But four buckets won’t be enough to pick them all!” Hot Pie exclaimed overjoyed.
“Maybe we should leave some for the next band of recruits, don’t you think?” Gendry chuckled and poured the berries he had already collected into one of the buckets. “I’m Jory, by the way.” he said and extended his hand to Hot Pie, who shook it without a second thought and so did Lommy afterwards.

Before long, Lommy and Hot Pie seemed to forget entirely that less than a moon’s turn ago, Arry and Gendry had still threatened to beat the shit out of them. It soon almost felt as if the four of them had been friends forever. They fooled around and threw blueberries at one another, the while Lommy and Hot Pie reported vividly about the alleged battle against the gold cloaks, and how they had defeated them alongside Yoren. Arry and Gendry tried their best not to burst into laughter at their tale, and to pretend instead that they were going green with envy to have missed the spectacle. This was nice, Arry caught himself thinking, almost like with his friends and siblings at home.

So it was near nightfall when the four of them eventually returned to the inn, each carrying a bucket brim-full with berries. And it had the intended effect, none of their fellow recruits wondered where they had been all this time, all they wanted to know was where they had found that many berries.

“Arry and Jory found them half a league from here, but they don’t know a thing about making pies, so we joined forces.” Lommy proclaimed proudly across camp. Causing most of the other lads to quickly offer their assistance with the baking, to earn their shares of pie as well. Which only delighted Hot Pie and Lommy even more, they unmistakably felt like the heroes of the day now. And they probably were. For Night’s Watch recruits apparently cared more about full bellies than about gold cloaks and kings. Everyone’s attention seemed drawn to the merry baking activities amidst their campsite that night – and thus away from the two quiet recruits, settling down on their blankets near the treeline.
“See, now you’re Jory and ‘the Bull’ is forgotten.” Arry smiled at Gendry.
“I’d say it’s a miracle we even got credited for finding the berries.” he chuckled amused and returned the smile.

Chapter Text

Lommy and Hot Pie dared to ride with Arry and Gendry now, but thankfully never did for long. Over all their collective pie-making at the inn, the two lads had befriended most of the other recruits; boys and men alike. And were since spoilt for choice with whom to ride during the days. One moment they were riding with Arry and Gendry at the rear and the next they rode at the very front of their column with another group. For them, this all seemed just a great adventure now – and somehow Arry envied them for their innocence and naivety.

Their band had left the kingsroad the day after the inn and marched thenceforth west on a smaller and even bumpier road, leading them a long way round the Gods Eye’s western shores. There, the gold cloaks wouldn’t be looking for them, Yoren had assured Arry and Gendry. Hopefully.

Yet, since that day the landscape had slowly changed and soon Arry understood how the riverlands must have come by their name. Small runlets crossed their path here and there, while streams of all sizes could be heard in the woods or seen cutting through fields and meadows. And every once while they had to cross one of them at trappy fords. The landscape was undeniably beautiful, a true sight to behold at times even. Nevertheless, one could sense something was amiss here. Arry felt constantly uneasy and he wasn’t the only one, Gendry was brooding more and more often now.

As most of the land seemed empty. Emptied of people, and emptied of their animals. Fields and orchards were ripe with crop and fruit, yet no one there to harvest. Thus, Yoren eventually gave permission to reap some of the abandoned crops and fruits – with most of the villages deserted, they had no other option to restock their supplies. Still, Arry didn’t like it, knowing the people who had worked those fields and orchards would need their harvest come winter. And winter was coming. They could see the first leaves turn yellow and read, signalling that summer was soon about to end.

And some people in the riverlands seemed to worry about winter still, they could be seen guarding their fields and fruit defiantly. Armed with simple homemade weapons and pitchforks, they looked wary at each stranger and warned their group to stay away from their lands. Arry always felt a lump in his throat seeing them, they wouldn’t stand a chance against pillagers. Not even against them, and they were just untrained Night’s Watch recruits.

But what complicated their journey now most, was all that water everywhere. It made the terrain muddier and bumpier than ever before, preventing their column from moving as fast they should – considering the current circumstances in the riverlands. Their carts got stuck in ruts and mud several times a day now. And if not that then they came across muddy slopes, they had to climb or find a way around. The carts’ axles were constantly creaking, and so it wasn’t before long that the first one broke and had to be renewed. But thankfully it was already late in the afternoon then. Thus, Yoren ordered camp to be set up right there and then, so a former carpenter and several other men could take care of the cart. The while Arry and Gendry went to get firewood as usual and Hot Pie and Lommy were tasked with the cooking; since them two were practically inseparable.

To Arry’s great relief. His bladder had begun aching about an hour ago, and all that water burbling along everywhere had turned riding into absolute torture. Therefore, he had thanked the gods for that broken axle and once again for Yoren preventing Lommy and Hot Pie from following them into the woods, in hope to find more edible treasures. So now Arry only had to sneak away from Gendry for a moment. Yet somehow, the older lad seemed determined to keep him within eyeshot for much longer now than usual. Arry saw him scanning the woods warily. For fuck’s sake, he needed to get away for just one short moment. And now. But that stupid bull didn’t want to leave… thus, Arry had to force him.

“So, what did the gold cloaks want with you?” he burst out, having no nerves for a more subtle approach.
“Don’t worry. With the riverlands all empty, there’s no one here to tell them where we went.” Gendry got it all wrong.
“I’m not worried.” Arry lied. He naturally still feared, the City Watch might find them again. But right now, he had a far more urgent problem, “I want to know why they came after you.”
“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
“Why not?” Arry pushed on.
“Because everyone who knows is dead or has a price on his head now.” Gendry growled, hoping to conclude the subject matter.
But since he still refused to leave Arry’s side, the boy now furrowed his brow, pretending to think out loud, “Did you steal something?” even though he knew Gendry was no thief.
“No.”
“But what did you do then?”
“Nothing.” Gendry claimed stubbornly, yet still right next to Arry.
“Well, you must’ve done something to piss Cersei and Joffrey off.” Arry snorted impatiently.
“But I didn’t.” Gendry sounded now slightly annoyed. At last.

“You don’t have to be ashamed. I’m sure, most of the other lads did far worse, or else they wouldn’t be here.” Arry pushed on, trying not to groan with pain whenever he bent over to pick up some dry wood.
“I didn’t do anything, and I’m not ashamed of anything.” Gendry was now seemingly annoyed, “So, would you just stop asking?”
“Sounds not very convincing.” Arry was getting annoyed himself, “Come on, you can tell me.”
“I don’t care if you find that convincing. I won’t tell.” Gendry shot back. He seemed to ask for it.
Thus, Arry teased somewhat gleeful, “Did you, you know… with the queen?”
“No, for fuck’s sake. What’s wrong with you?” Gendry almost shouted outraged.
“Well, would explain why she wants you dead.” Arry snorted, as if it were nothing.
“Are you out of your mind?” Gendry asked, clearly uncomfortable.
Even though it hurt like shit, Arry couldn’t help bursting into laughter at seeing him in such distress. Hells, how could he take that question serious? But at least it worked, it pissed him off.

Or so Arry thought, till Gendry pleaded, “I didn’t do anything. Believe me.”
And so Arry had to continue his interrogation, “Is it because you know something then? A secret? About the king and the queen?”
“No, I didn’t do anything and I don’t know anything. Never met any of them and never want to. So, stop asking and leave me be.” Gendry growled, yet made no move to leave Arry’s side. Seven hells.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad—”
“But it is!” Gendry suddenly blurted, “Both Hands are dead because of me.” he caught Arry completely off-guard, whose face turned pale as death.
“Oh, no… no! That came out wrong, Arry, I didn’t kill them or the like, I swear.” Gendry quickly stammered, realising what the younger lad must be thinking, “It’s just, they knew about me and both came see me, and were dead soon after. That’s all. I swear.”

Yet, suddenly this was no longer a game for Arry. His bladder could burst, and he couldn’t care less. He had to know the truth. Therefore, he asked dead serious, “Who are you?” piercing Gendry with his eyes.
“A bastard. Of the old king. King Robert.” his head drooped as he gave in.
“So? He sired lots of bastards.” Arry didn’t understand how him being a king’s bastard had gotten both Hands killed.
“He’s dead. And now that little shit and his bitch mother want all his bastards dead too. That’s why the gold cloaks came.” Gendry hissed angry, “Happy now?”
“Doesn’t explain why the Hands died.” Arry hissed back unsatisfied. He couldn’t stop now, he had to know.
“I don’t know why they died. All I know is, each came by my master’s shop shortly before they died. Told me, how much I looked like my father and if I’d need anything, I should come to them. And Stark also asked about my mum, what colour her eyes and hair were. And before you ask too, she had yellow hair and blue eyes. And now we’re done talking.” Gendry glared at him, truly livid now.

So, when Arry attempted to ask yet another question, Gendry furiously challenged, “Or how about we talk about your little secrets now?” catching the boy absolutely by surprise. Did he… no, he couldn’t know—
“Uh, now we go mute again. Who would’ve seen that coming?” Gendry threw his firewood forcefully to the ground, “Come on, out with it. Can’t be that bad, right?” How did that happen? He had him cornered.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve no secrets.” Arry claimed, trying to glare right back at him. Calm as still water, fierce as a wolverine.
“Oh, okay, then how about that one? You’re a girl.” Gendry snarled fuming. No. How? The smaller lad froze, dropping all his firewood. As his heart first skipped a beat, to then start racing at dizzying speed. It was a miracle his bladder still held the water.
“I’m not a girl!” Arry snapped, but her panicking voice betrayed her.
“Yes, you are.” Gendry snorted, displaying a slight smirk on his face now, “Do you think me as stupid as the rest of them?”
“No, stupider. The Night’s Watch doesn’t take girls, everyone knows that.” she wouldn’t give in. Couldn’t.
“True, but you’re still a girl.” and neither would he.
“I am not!”

“Alright then, pull out your cock and take a piss. Go on.” Gendry dared her.
“I don’t need to take a piss.” she countered weakly.
“Liar. You can’t pull out your cock because you don’t have one. And if you’re not a girl, then you must be some eunuch.” Gendry seemed to have fun taunting her now, while she was the one fuming.
“You’re the eunuch.” she blurted, obviously running out of excuses. Which made him raise his brows and step closer, until he stood right in front of her. Arry tried to stand her ground, but the way he looked down at her now was odd. It made her heart speed up its pace even more.
Whereas Gendry lowered his voice, “You know I’m not.” Smirking confidently and never breaking eye contact, he dared her again, “Or do you want me to take out my cock and prove it?”

At that, Arry gulped, feeling her face burn bright red, whilst her now fluttering lashes, forced her to lower her gaze. No lad had ever dared to look at her… talk to her like that. The ones she had known, had been too terrified of her father and her brothers. But her father was dead now and her brothers didn’t even know where to look for her. And the only thing she could think of in that instant, was a lesson Robb and Jon had taught her once.

Clenching her right fist, Arry took a swift step back and punched Gendry in the face as hard as she could, wiping his overconfident smirk right off of it. He hadn’t had a chance to dodge the blow, he never saw it coming. And it hit him hard enough to make him stumble backwards, thunderstruck. “How’s that for a girl?” Arry snarled, stepping back away from him and darting into the woods.
“Arry, wait! I’m sorry—” she heard him calling. He knew!

Running, unable to stop, she felt her rage slowly giving way to… oh gods, she was panicking. Gendry knew! And she had nothing in her smallclothes to convince him otherwise. Her pretence was over. Arry felt tears welling up. What now? Kill him? She certainly could have. Before Yoren had given him that bloody gold cloak’s sword. Yet now? She had seen Gendry handle the blade, looking like he knew what he was doing. Had he been trained with a sword? After all, he was a king’s bastard. Robert’s bastard. Fuck.

And he came running after her, “Arry, please, let’s talk.” She didn’t stop. Not until he grabbed her arm and forced her, making her feel fully defeated and betrayed now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, I was so livid and things got out of hand. I didn’t mean to tell you like that, that I know.” he claimed, rubbing his cheek. It turned red where her fist had collided with it. Good.
Without looking at him, Arry fought back the lump in her throat and pleaded, “The others can’t know. No one can know.”
“They won’t.” he assured, “At least not from me.” He loosened his grip and let his hand slide down her arm.

Though when she realised, he tried to grasp her hand, Arry wrenched free and hid it behind her back. “Come on, let me see.” Gendry pleaded, vainly. Her hand was pulsing with pain, but that was nothing he needed to know. Her position was already weak enough. She would take care of it later. “I just want to check if it’s alright.” Gendry tried to appease her, “That was quite a punch you gave me there.”
“It’s fine.” she hissed, “Wasn’t the first time.” True. Only, she never punched anyone or anything that hard. Never had to.
“If it’s nothing, then why not let me see it, hm?” he questioned, which made her take a step backwards, fearing he might grasp her arm again.
“I don’t want you to touch me.”
“I don’t have to touch it, to see if it’s alright.” Damn, why did he have to be so bloody stubborn?
So, Arry pulled her hand reluctantly forth, “See, fine. Just a bit red, but that’s normal.”
“Can you outstretch all your fingers?” Gendry asked, making her show him. “Move them?” he instructed her further, “Make a fist and circle your wrist? Open it again. Good.” Arry did as he asked, yet bit her tongue, to not let him see she was in pain. “You need to cool that.” he concluded, “Let’s find you some moss for the night.”
“I don’t need any stupid moss.” Arry snarled.
“Yes, you do.” he countered calmly, “At least, if you want to move that hand the morrow. So, come on.” Was he serious?

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” she scowled at him. He only nodded at that, looking almost hurt. And she could tell, he tried to say something but didn’t. She didn’t care. Arry was determined to stay away from him.

Since to her own dismay, she had to admit to herself, she had started to trust him. Enough to feel safe around him, to let her guard down. It had felt good. Almost like with her brothers. She had even told him about Needle. And about Jon. But all her trust was gone now. Vanished. She should’ve known better, she was old enough. And Yoren had warned her. Told her, she shouldn’t trust any of the recruits. She should’ve listened. After everything that had happened in King’s Landing, why had she been so eager to trust him so quickly? Stupid, stupid fool.

“I suppose you don’t want to hear that now, or you won’t believe me.” Gendry then spoke again after all, “But you’ve nothing to fear from me, Arry, I won’t harm you. Or touch you, not in any improper way. Or any other way, you don’t want. You’re safe with me, and so is your secret. I swear, to the old gods and the new.” She studied him when he said it, searching for hints of dishonesty. But she couldn’t find any. All she saw, looked like remorse. Doesn’t mean, he isn’t lying.

Yet, when she still remained silent, he sighed, “Alright, I’ll do as you ask and leave you be. Just make sure, you cool that hand of yours. And don’t wander off too far, the riverlands aren’t safe anymore.” he told her quietly, “I’ll be waiting on the clearing where we left the firewood. Call me if you need anything.” before he turned around and walked away, without looking back. Probably knowing, she was watching him.

Chapter Text

As promised, he had gone back to the clearing, where they had dropped their firewood during their quarrel. Their quarrel she had started, out of the blue. Gendry still didn’t understand what had gotten into her. But it didn’t matter. He had lost his temper, deciding that were the moment to let her know, that he knew. What had he been thinking? Well, obviously nothing at all, bloody idiot. “Ours is the Fury?” Gendry snorted dismissively to himself, “Screw that, screw fury.” And that tosser of a dead father.

Just like now, all fury had ever done for him, was causing trouble. Gendry was grateful, his sire’s worst traits were far less marked in him. He truly hated himself whenever they took over. Nothing good ever came from that. Not for him, and not for others. And if it hadn’t been for his mother’s constant counter steering, he’d probably be dead by now.

His mother had been younger than Gendry was now, still a maiden when she had met his father. Back then, Robert Baratheon had been the handsome dashing hero, who had valiantly defeated the mad Targaryens – not yet the fat incompetent fool, that had sat the iron throne until two moon’s turns ago. Aye, how brave that bastard had been. Seducing maidens all over the Seven Kingdoms, only to abandon them to their fates afterwards. Leaving it to his stewards and Hands to deal with the consequences, such as him.

Gendry never met his sire. Still, he seemed to have more in common with him than with his beloved mother. Who had been by his side every day until the day she had died, ten years ago. So, why the heck couldn’t he be more like her? Kind. Patient. Thoughtful. Calm. He tried, but eventually the Baratheon traits always seemed to win the upper hand. He undeniably would have needed her guidance far longer than the gods had allowed.

Maybe then he wouldn’t’ve turned out such an idiot with girls, either. Somehow, they had always liked him, just like they had his late sire. Only, Gendry had never learned how to act around them. Well, neither had his father. That twat had merely learnt to fuck them. But never to respect them. Gendry tried it the other way around, he had no need for bastards of his own. Yet, still he managed to ruin everything.

Now he couldn’t even be a friend to a little girl, hiding among thirty scumbags to get to her brother. Her brother, who must be worried sick that he couldn’t protect her now. But he could. And he wanted to. So why the fuck couldn’t he just do it, and keep his bloody mouth shut?

This girl – he didn’t even know her real name – was so different from all the other girls he knew. They dreamt of handsome knights and heroes to spirit them away on white stallions. But not she. She was shrewd and fierce and headstrong. She had a sword. And going by how swift and skilful she had launched her blows at Hot Pie and now him, she most likely knew to wield it. And she could ride. The way she steered that donkey of hers almost effortlessly up and down whatever muddy slope without the animal ever faltering or stumbling, left not much room to doubt she couldn’t do the same on horseback. She could ride to whatever adventure she wanted on her own. She knew, she needed no man to make her dreams come true. His mum would have liked her. And so did he. He admired her, even though she was at least five or six years younger than him.

Gendry thought of the day he had seen her for the very first time, the day Eddard Stark had lost his head on the steps of the Great Sept. The man, who had been Hand of the King to his sire – and his best friend, or so Gendry had been told. The man, who had warned him when the king had lain on his deathbed, and who had arranged his escape from the capital as a Night’s Watch recruit. Yoren had originally planned to leave King’s Landing sooner then, but he had gotten word that another black cells inmate was to join them. So, they had waited another fortnight. Only, instead of a fourth prisoner for the cage, Yoren had eventually dragged her along, claiming he had found another gutter rat to take the black.

She had been a mess then, her face blank. Apart from her sad absent eyes, which had constantly pointed north as soon as they had passed the city gates. Back then, Gendry had thought the Night’s Watch were in a truly wretched state, if they even took someone so young and so evidently anguished. She had reminded him of the smallest and weakest of a litter of kittens then. The outcast one. The one everyone knew wouldn’t make it. But hells, had he been wrong.

As he had had no interest in befriending thieves, rapists and murderers, Gendry had decided to stick to himself on the kingsroad. Hence, having had plenty of time to observe the boys and men around him. Who he soon would’ve to call his brothers. However, his fellow Night’s Watch recruits hadn’t been exactly enthralling to study. Since they had done whatever one could expect of them. Still did. They had boasted, brawled and bullied and cheated, deceived and threatened. And undoubtedly only refrained from worse, because Yoren had announced, anyone making him draw a blade would travel with the three in the cage – for as long as he deemed fit.

Thus, somehow Gendry’s eyes had always ended up watching the weak little kitten, who triggered his protective instinct. Yet, he hadn’t been the only one, he had soon noticed Yoren also kept a watchful eye on the little one. And come the third day, Gendry had finally figured out, what had seemed so odd about this particular kitten. He had seen it sneak back to camp before sunrise, carrying their boots instead of wearing them. Which had made him wonder, why one would think it necessary to sneak around in the woods like that while everyone else was sound asleep. And suddenly it had dawned on him. All that never removing that far too wide jerkin, no matter how hot it got during midday. The smooth flowing way that body moved, those delicate facial features and small hands. Then later that day, when he had pulled her off of Hot Pie, grasping her round the waist and grabbing her hand, he had been certain he held a girl in his arm. One far from a weak little kitten. And from then on, he had tried to stay by her side. For everyone to see, in case some of the scumbags might come to the same conclusion as him.

However, she hadn’t made it easy for him. She truly had been a tough nut to crack. Just as determined to keep him at bay, as he was determined to stay close. Truth be told, he still was just scratching the surface with her. And going by how sudden things had gone south now between them, that would probably be all he ever did. Idiot.

During those past three years in King’s Landing, there had been no one he would have called a friend. No true friend, at least. But with her it was different. They both didn’t talk much and stubbornly avoided speaking about their pasts, yet still that hadn’t kept them from getting along better by the day. At the inn, when she had not only kept his secret but also helped conceal it, she had shown qualities, Gendry hadn’t expected to find in someone so young. And certainly not after only knowing him for a moon’s turn. Someone like that, he could call a true friend, he had decided back then. But he had ruined that now, it seemed. Within a blink of an eye.

She had driven him mad with all those questions about his past, and he didn’t understand why that suddenly was so important to her. Why she had kept pushing and pushing, and just wouldn’t stop. But it wasn’t like she’d held her blade to his throat. He didn’t need to tell her. He could have just walked away. Why hadn’t he? Why couldn’t he keep his temper for once? He could have just asked her in return, why she thought the gold cloaks were after her.

Of course, she wouldn’t have told him, he knew that much by now. But it surely would have made her stop pestering him about the gold cloaks. Yet, instead he had decided to get back at her. To blurt out her one secret he knew, and to brag about how he had seen right through her disguise. Bloody fool. And still that hadn’t been enough, he just had to humiliate her too. Knowing damn well she couldn’t be older than thirteen, he also had to give her a fucking cock speech. Was that how his mother had raised him?

When Arry had countered, “You’re the eunuch.” it had been clear that he had won. They both had known that. But he just had to land his final blow, daring her, if he would need to pull out his prick to prove how much of a man he was. Seriously? He truly was his father’s son. Beyond doubt. Preying on little girls, who didn’t yet know how to hold such advances at bay … Gendry had never felt so ashamed in his entire life. He had thought he was better than that, better than his fellow recruits. When obviously he wasn’t.

She had been right to strike him. He deserved it. And he was glad she had done so; it had brought him back to his senses. He had tried to use her age and inexperience against her, and she had paid him back, hoisting him with his own petard. Punched him like a man. Which made Gendry wonder, who might have taught her. Perhaps her brother. After all he had also given her a sword. And if the little sister could land a blow like that, despite being almost two heads shorter, Gendry wasn’t sure if he would want to mess with the big brother.

He rubbed his cheek again, feeling the swollen bruise. It hurt. Though, not half as much as that shaken look on her face had. He had to make up for this. Had to prove to her and himself that this was not the kind of man he was – nor wanted to be. He didn’t want to lose the only friend he had amongst these scumbags and idiots. He had apologised and vowed, he would never harm her. But what good was that? She had opened up to him, had started to trust him; enough to tell him about her brother and her Needle. But that was over now, that had been clear as day when he had tried to check her hand.

And now he sat on the edge of the clearing, brooding and worrying if she was alright. With only two squirrels, busily reaping acorns in the branches above him, keeping him company. At first, they hadn’t been thrilled about having him there. But after he had stopped pacing back and forth, having slumped down by the old oak tree and not moved in almost an hour, they seemed to consider him a part of the scenery now and hid their harvest all around the clearing ground.

The while Gendry stared silently into the direction where he had seen her last, waiting for her to return. Hoping for her to return, safely. But slowly he was getting restless as the sun was about to set. Had something happened to her? Or was she just mad at him? Had she maybe decided to go straight back to camp, letting him rot here like the turd he was? Gendry didn’t dare to check. For what if she returned and found him gone? It undoubtedly would cost him the tiny bit of trust she still might have in him. So, he hoped she was just trying to get back at him, playing some stupid little game with him now.

Until he heard someone nearing. Wrong direction. And going by the noisy strides it evidently couldn’t be her. Great. He had expected for Yoren to come looking eventually. Hence Gendry didn’t move, didn’t care. He had a bruised face and she was gone; he knew how that looked like. He deserved what was coming.

And indeed it was Yoren, storming right at him, “Where’s the little one?” the old man grabbed him by the collar, pulling him to his feet.
“Don’t know.” Gendry growled sullenly, “She was somewhere over there when I saw her last.”
“She?” Yoren snarled livid, “What did you do, you bastard?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? So, that shiny new bruise on your face is from those squirrels throwing acorns at you, huh?” Yoren barked, while the rodents above them ranted for being disturbed anew. “You bet, if Ned Stark had known you’d harm that girl, he would’ve gifted your head to that Lannister twit himself.” the old man snarled, “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Gendry tried to remain calm, “We had a fight. I got angry, said some things and she punched me. I didn’t touch her. When she ran off, I grabbed her arm to stop her. But that’s all.”
“Then why let her run off, if that’s all?” Yoren demanded unappeased.
“What else was I supposed to do? Drag her back to camp screaming?”
“Damn right, you bloody oaf. These lands are at war, don’t you know what that means?” Yoren snorted fuming, “You’ll show me right now where you left her.”
“Over there,” Gendry growled, “at most two hundred yards further into the woods. But I promised her to wait here.”
Yoren stared at him in disbelief, “You move your sorry arse now and help me find her, and may the gods help you if we don’t—”
“I’m here.” they suddenly heard her, causing both men to turn into the direction at once, where she now emerged from behind a tree. Thank the gods, she was alright.

“What happened?” Yoren demanded, undoubtedly relieved himself.
“What he said.” How long had she been there?
“Did he try anything? Touch you?”
But she only shook her head.
“Are you sure?” the black brother inquired, clearly not entirely convinced.
“He was being stupid, so I hit him and ran, that’s all.” she confirmed, even though she could have easily got rid of Gendry now.
As Yoren turned back to him, “I don’t care you think yourself a smartarse. I’m smarter. I’ve been watching you, lad, or why do you think I came alone now?” threatening him, “If you just as much as think of touching her or telling anyone about her, I’ll gut you. No further warning, are we clear?” he finally let go of Gendry.
“She‘s safe with me, and I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
“I don’t care what you swear, I just care what you do, or don’t do in this case.” the old man growled unimpressed.
“You don’t trust me, neither of you. I get it. But I’ll prove you wrong, both of you.” Gendry retorted and removed his sword belt to hand it back to Yoren.

“No, you keep it.” Arry intervened.
“She’s right, lad, we don’t want the others wondering about you two after all.” Yoren snorted, “And if it’s me coming for you, that thing won’t save you anyway.” So, Gendry put the belt back on, wordlessly. While Yoren approached her, seeing her hand dressed, “Let me see that.”
“It’s nothing.” Arry huffed, “Already told him so.” causing Yoren to shake his head and snort to himself.
“Nothing’s broken, I checked.” Gendry assured from behind, “Told her to cool it.”
“And I did. I know what I’m doing, I’m not a child.” she was getting angry again.
“Enough with the bickering.” Yoren grumbled annoyed, “You two have given me plenty of headache for tonight. So, back to camp with you. Now.”

“Found ‘em.” the old crow proclaimed once they reached campsite, “Tried to catch some wild horse bare-handed, now look at them halfwits. All black and blue.” Everyone laughed. Seriously? On the other hand, what else should explain her dressed hand and his bruised face, without spooking the others? They clearly had been in a fight. And if not with one another, then with whom?

Yet, Arry seemingly disagreed, as she looked daggers at the black brother’s back. She unmistakably would have preferred, Yoren had alarmed everyone with a tale of brigands assaulting them instead of humiliating her like that. She dropped her bundle and herself lividly to ground, refusing to set any step further into camp with everyone there mocking and laughing at her. So, Gendry slumped down next to her, forgetting for a moment that she probably didn’t want him near her anymore.

Only, before he could do something about it, Lommy came already running with two blankets and Hot Pie carrying two bowls of stew right behind. “So, a wild horse, how did that happen?” Lommy inquired curiously, handing each of them their blanket.
“Ask him.” Arry hissed coolly.
And Gendry grumbled sullenly, “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Um, yeah, we just leave you the stew here then, in case you get hungry.” Hot Pie mumbled sheepishly and was about to waddle off, pulling Lommy with him.
“Thanks, for saving us some… and the blankets.” Gendry offered, deciding he had done enough scaring away for one day, “It’s just, um, today wasn’t a good day. We’ll tell you—”
“You mean, you’ll tell them?” Arry interrupted, glaring at him.
“Aye, I’ll tell you about the horse tomorrow, alright?” he appeased, “But now Arry and I’ve to settle some things first.”
“We don’t have to settle anything.” she snarled, making Hot Pie and Lommy decide, whatever was going on between them, they didn’t want to get caught in the middle of it and hence took to their heels after all.

“I’m sorry.” Gendry whispered, once the two lads were out of earshot.
“Spare me your sorry.” she hissed as she rolled out her blanket to lay down, turning her back on him. For the first time since she had told him her name… or what she had wanted him to believe were her name. Wherefore he then grabbed his blanket to lay down further away from her. “Right, move your blanket to the other side of camp, so everyone knows something’s amiss, stupid.” she growled, without turning back around.
“Well, what would you have me do instead?” Gendry was getting tired of all this. Could this day not just be over now?
“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew? Instead of… playing me for a fool.” she hissed, turning around to scowl at him once more.
“Oh, so you would’ve preferred for me to walk up to you the third day, saying something like, ‘Hey little one, by the way you look like a girl and pulling you off of Hot Pie kind of confirmed it.’?” he whispered fretted, slowly losing his patience with her once more. Not again, he warned himself.

“I look like a girl?” she breathed alarmed.
“Well, yeah, and no. I just noticed some things were odd about you.” he whispered back.
Resulting in Arry instantly studying the other recruits, wondering who else could have noticed, “What things?”
“Don’t worry, they don’t know.” Gendry tried to appease her, “They’re far too busy with themselves to look at you for more than a flash.”
“A flash is all a trained eye needs.” she objected, looking now even more concerned.
“Well, that’s what I am here for, trained eye or not, they’ll have to fight two of us now.”
“Three.” she hissed defiantly, “I can fight too.”
“I meant you and me.” Gendry just couldn’t help teasing her again, “Who’s stupid now, huh?”
“You.” she growled now playfully and punched his upper arm.
“So determined to ruin the other one too?” Gendry teased on chuckling, “I guess, it’ll be just Yoren and me doing the fighting after all.”
“Shut up.” she snorted, “Could have punched you with this one again, I just didn’t want to get your sleeve all dirty with moss and mud.” Unbelievable. Gendry rolled his eyes grinning. She just couldn’t admit any weaknesses, could she? But he didn’t mind, this was more than he could have hoped for just an hour ago.

“So, are you really called Arry, or do you have some girl’s name?” Gendry whispered, after they had lain silently next to each other for a while.
“Arya.” she eventually gave away. And the way she said it, biting her lower lip afterwards, confirmed to Gendry that it was the truth. There was hope for their friendship after all.
“Nice to meet you, Arya, for real now.”

Yet, before they dozed off to sleep, he had to ask, “You weren’t hiding behind that tree all the time, were you?”
“No,” she chuckled amused and teased, “not behind that tree.” Unbelievable.
“But you hid behind some others, watching me feel sorry for myself?” he cocked his brow and studied her.
“There are other ways to do that.” she countered, as if knowing something he didn’t.
“Are you sure, you want me to tell that horse story the morrow?” he challenged.
“Absolutely, and when you’re done, I’ll go and catch one. Single-handedly.”
“There are no wild horses in the riverlands.” Gendry told her chuckling.
“A wild wolf then.” she just had to have the final say. On anything.

Chapter Text

Nowadays, most folk in the riverlands worshipped the new gods – The Seven Who Are One. The gods of her mother. Yet, in the thick forests by the Gods Eye even their followers had to admit, the old gods were still present. This was their land. Land of the children of the forest and the First Men. At the heart of the Seven Kingdoms, on the Isle of Faces midst the great lake the weirwood trees still stood. Still watched. And according to her mother, they couldn’t solely be found there. Legend were, some still grew elsewhere in the riverlands; lone silent watchers hidden away deep in the thickets of ancient woods. Forgotten by most.

It should have comforted Arya to have her gods watching her here. Only, it didn’t. These forests harboured something dark and evil now. The nearer their band came to the Gods Eye, the more tense she felt. This was what the people on the kingsroad had been running from. Something monstrous, yet entirely human. And no gods could to protect them from it.

Arya had thought she knew fear, after all that had happened in King’s Landing. Yet, this here seemed a whole new level of it. By nightfall, they could see blazes illuminating the sky blood-red from afar and come sunrise they woke to a taste of smoke on their lips; more and more often.

Although Yoren had doubled their watch and all the recruits carried some sort of weapon now, it didn’t help her nerves to calm down. For a night with a blazed sky meant typically they would come by a village in ashes the day after – its people and livestock butchered alike.

In the first of those villages, their entire band had fallen silent as if by command. Seeing the smoking ruins of a sept there, with charred corpses of all sizes still clutching to one another inside, had even been too much for convicted thieves, rapists and murderers. Quite a few recruits had thrown up, while the rest of them had gaped petrified at the horrifying scene; until Rorge’s bellowing laughter and Biter’s gleeful hisses had roused them from their state of shock. Monsters, no better than the ones responsible for this, Arya had thought then and had tightened her grip on Needle’s hilt.

Some recruits had even wanted to bury the poor souls at that, which certainly would have been the decent thing to do. But Yoren had intervened, “Don’t. Those bastards might still be around. It’s best we leave everything as it is, to not give them ideas about searching the woods for survivors or robbing Night’s Watch supplies for consolation.” And their lot needed to save their strength now, the wandering crow had told them there, since they couldn’t expect to restock their supplies as regularly as before, in these war-torn lands. “So, cover that pools of sick of yours and get going, lads. Before I need to ration your shares… or starve them three in the cage.” Yoren had added, without even wasting a look into the direction of the now raging Rorge and Biter.

Unfortunately though, that village had only been the first of several wiped-out settlements in the area and so their gaping and retching soon stopped; even Hot Pie no longer threw up on the fourth day. None of them would have admitted it, but they all felt themselves blunting to the sights of horror.

It made Arya feel disgusted by herself and caused her courage to fade away, day by day a bit more. She couldn’t tell how often she recited Syrio Forel’s words now. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Gendry undoubtedly heard her whispering them throughout the day and at camp before sleep. Yet, he never said anything. Arya knew he tried to be strong – for her. That he didn’t want her to know he was terrified himself. And she was grateful he tried, for it made her try as well – for him.

Ever since he had started lying right next to her, Arya had had less trouble sleeping. His presence had somehow put an end to her sleep-crying and had helped keeping her nightmares at bay. It was almost like having Jon and Robb there, she had thought on more than one occasion. But when they had come by that sept, it had affected them both the following night. Gendry had seemed unable to find any sleep, whilst Arya had had a nightmare worse than any before; jumbling memories from King’s Landing with those from the village.

Thankfully, Gendry had eventually shaken her awake and had held and caressed her hand afterwards, until apparently both of them had fallen asleep then. For Arya had woken up all snuggled into his chest come dawn, causing her to blush with shame and apologise immediately. But he had only smiled and assured, it was fine. Proving he meant it, once he pulled her into his arms right away after her next nightmare; despite her half-hearted protests. She didn’t want him to think her weak. Still, Arya couldn’t deny, nestling up against him helped. And not only her, she soon realised. Gendry himself appeared to rest easier this way, knowing they weren’t alone. Therefore, they found themselves huddled up against one another more and more lately.

Even though, Lommy and Hot Pie now never were far; on the road by day and at camp by night, where they placed their blankets hardly three feet away from Arya and Gendry’s. It seemed, the two lads felt safer around people with proper swords instead of simple makeshift spears and wooden clubs – but didn’t want to cling to Yoren and the other grown men, yet. And somehow, having them relying on her like that, trusting her to protect them, made Arya’s courage resurface. At least some of it.

The while Yoren tried to pacify the recruits’ growing unrest by ordering them to light additional campfires at night. To make their numbers look greater from afar, he told them, but it undoubtedly should also make them realise, they were safer if they stuck together in the riverlands. To keep the fools even from dallying over deserting.

Nonetheless, Arya and Gendry refused to build any fires near their little lair of four at the treeline. But naturally their two companions there disagreed – at first. “Yoren said, we need to light one fire per two recruits, so we could at least build one where we sleep.” Lommy had argued.
“No, we’re building both here where we eat.” Arya had countered unyielding.
“But it’d be warmer, if we had one there—” Hot Pie had suggested sheepishly.
“If you need a fire to squat around, sleep elsewhere.” Gendry had hissed, losing his patience with them.
“A fire makes us sitting ducks for arrows and anyone sneaking up from the woods behind.” Arya had eventually whispered, hoping the truth wouldn’t fully spook them, “Yoren knows that, or why do you think he doesn’t tell us to build our fires there?”
“But the others—” Hot Pie had stammered, realising wide-eyed that almost none of their fellow recruits seemed to know that.
“don’t sleep right by the treeline.” Arya had tried to appease him.
“But arrows—” Lommy had still been thinking aloud.
“Do you want for the entire band to scatter in panic and leave us behind?” Gendry had interrupted snarling, “No? Well, then I suggest you keep your fucking mouths shut now.”

And the two lads had taken Gendry quite literally at his word, for neither had said anything else that night and for most part of the following day; not to each other and not to them. Just like after that awful sept. Arya – and probably Gendry as well – felt sorry for scaring them further into quietness. So much, Arya even convinced herself, she would do anything to hear them chatting stupid nonsense again.

But then she wasn’t really amused once they actually did, a couple of days later. When Yoren came to their lair one evening and told Gendry, “We need to talk.” Yet, when Arya made a move to get up too, the old man growled firmly, “Alone.” and led her friend swiftly out of her earshot. Which only frustrated her more, and certainly didn’t keep her from watching their conversation by their abandoned supper fire closely. Seeing them first talk normally, Yoren apparently asking questions and Gendry answering them. However, that quickly changed. Gendry started frowning and even shook his head vigorously, while Yoren kept talking insistently. Whatever the old man said, he clearly disagreed. “What do you think it’s about?” Hot Pie wondered somewhat concerned, edging closer to Arya.
“Maybe he stole something.” Lommy suggested, possibly meant to placate his friend’s worries.
But Arya fumed, “He’s no damn thief.” she hissed and scowled at the skinny blond lad. Unlike you. Before she turned her attention back to the men’s ongoing exchange, seeing Yoren still talking to Gendry; who now stared into the flames, his angry frown deepened. Until he eventually looked back at the older man and nodded – noticeably reluctant. Whatever he had agreed to, he didn’t like it. The wandering crow though seemed satisfied with that outcome, as he strode back to his resting spot. To once more see to his blades.

“What did he want?” Arya whispered as soon as the slight snoring sounds indicated Hot Pie and Lommy were asleep.
“Just asked a favour.” Gendry grumbled.
“What favour?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” he claimed, although he clearly was still upset because of it.
“Was it about me?” she feared it was, or else why wasn’t she allowed to hear ‘nothing’?
“Not everything’s about you.” Gendry countered with a warning tone in his voice. That Arya found all but convincing, yet didn’t want to push him while he was angry. Like last time, when he’d turned the tables rapidly.
“You don’t like it, that favour, don’t you?” she asked carefully.
“Well, that’s the thing about favours. One usually doesn’t like them, or else it wouldn’t be called a favour.” he huffed.
“But you’ll oblige him anyway?”
“Yes.” he grunted sullenly. She didn’t like it either. Arya knew that much – and once she eventually found out, she was glad Gendry hadn’t told her.

Come morning two days later, their band could make out a towerhouse at a distance, standing atop a rock formation above a small port at the God's Eye's southern shore. A sight of hope, they had thought at first. But it wasn’t. The town was deserted as so many others before. Hence, Yoren ordered ten recruits to stay with the carts and animals behind and tasked the rest of them to search the lake town in small groups, looking for boats and supplies, while the black brother went up to the towerhouse.

Though, all they found was a rotting rowboat, some holey sails and buckets of hard tar. Before Yoren returned reporting the same from the holdfast – the lordling, his townsfolk and livestock, supplies and boats were all gone. And Arya went with her gut, “These people left for a reason, we shouldn’t stay here.”
But Yoren wouldn’t listen, “The folks who lived here were at war, we’re not. Night’s Watch takes no part, so no man’s our enemy.” And no man’s our friend, Arya wanted to counter, yet held her tongue. Knowing, it was no use to argue with the old crow in front of everyone, as it only would make the wrong minds wonder why the youngest of them dared to speak like that to their recruiter. Who then at least admitted, “Though, I had hoped to find some boats here, so we wouldn’t need to go the long way around the lake.”
“What about a raft? We could build one.” Gendry suggested, and the former carpenter promptly agreed. As it was still three hours till noon, they could start right away and be poling north the morrow, the man claimed.
“Would mean to leave the wagons and animals behind, but we could reach the northern shore within two days.” Yoren thought aloud, and no one cared to heed the warning of a short skinny Flea Bottom gutter rat – for what could the little one know of such things? Bloody fools.

Since they needed meat in their stews that night, Yoren sent the three poachers hunting and declared the carpenter in charge over the raft building, who went then straight to work. By midday their entire band was busy with their assigned tasks – all but the prisoners in the cage. Some recruits were tying makeshift ropes, like Lommy. Others were building the rafts with the carpenter, but most were lumbering in the woods. While Gendry and Hot Pie worked at the town smithy. The former armourer’s apprentice provided the raft builders with nails and hooks and whatever tools the carpenter required, as the baker’s boy operated the bellows to speed up Gendry’s work pace.

Only, that left a rather nasty taste in Arya’s mouth. Why hadn’t he asked her? she thought sullenly, after all she wouldn’t need to run off cooking once the poachers returned with game. Arya fumed that morning, seeing everyone belittle her legit worries and patronise her because of her age and small build. Even him now.

And it still continued, when Yoren tasked her to assist him with the cart horses dragging the logs to shore. As both the lumbering men and the old crow doubted, she could manage the horses alone. All so strong with their big muscles, yet so thick in their stupid heads. But Arya untaught them quickly, proving she handled the steeds better than any of them. Keeping them calm and steady, she steered the animals safely on the bumpy forest ground and all the way down to the swampy shore. Entirely on her own. Huh! Arya liked her task; after the men finally let her work properly. Being back on horseback – after so long – lifted her spirits at once then. Almost like old times, at home.

The Night’s Watch recruits toiled all day, and hardly any of them complained. Not even about getting only half a handful cheese and a single slice of stale bread during their drastically shortened midday rest. It seemed, some even enjoyed this day of normality midst the war – a welcome break from passing by charred fields and orchards and travelling from one butchered village or hamlet to the next. Hence, come dusk men and beasts alike retreated dog-tired to the holdfast, feeling somewhat at peace for once.

The small keep above the port was simple, just a round tower with a single second-storey entry, framed by battlements with a wooden catwalk and a stone barn in the yard – big enough to shelter the whole town. The battlements weren’t mortared, but the gate was strong and thus only the small postern was cause of concern. They even found a trap door inside the barn, leading through a narrow tunnel down to shore; as the former bricklayer reported when he reappeared through the hole in the ground.

After they had bolted the gate and postern for the night, Yoren ordered for the wagon with the prisoners to be pulled onto the trap and instructed the poachers to spend the night in the towerhouse, to warn them in time if someone approached town. While the rest of them assembled in the barn, to gulp down their bowls of stew and to find themselves a spot in the fresh straw to get some rest before it was their turn to keep watch.

As on the road, Arya and her three companions settled down next to each other. Yet, with the rest of the recruits so close, Arya kept her distance to Gendry. Besides, he had doubted her strength earlier and she was determined to prove him wrong now. Because he was. Starting by showing him, she didn’t need to be cuddled to sleep like a toddler. She could fall asleep perfectly fine on her own. Which thankfully was rather easy that night, for the barn smelled mainly of horses, donkeys and fresh hay and straw. Almost like the Winterfell stables. And so Arya dozed off virtually in an instant.

Only, her calm slumber didn’t last long, she soon dreamed of a wolf howling… warning her! Arya was awake at once and shook Gendry and Lommy next to her. “Wake up, didn’t you hear?” she exclaimed alarmed and then louder, “Everyone, wake up! Something’s wrong.”
“Hear what?” Gendry asked drowsy, yet put on his boots and grabbed his things just as she did, whereas the others only began to stir now.
“A wolf. Howling. Warning us.” she gave away, even though that made most of the other recruits burst into laughter. Laughing at her, belittling her. Again. But she ignored them and focussed on Gendry, pleading, “It’s true, it was a warning cry.”
“Alright, let’s check.” he appeased and followed her out of the barn, with Hot Pie and Lommy not far behind. However, they barely set their feet into the yard, when the poachers’ hunting horn resounded over the holdfast. Someone was coming.

The four of them climbed swiftly up to the catwalk, where Yoren and three recruits had kept first watch at the battlements. But all four men stood turned eastwards now, where the head of a monstrous worm of yellow and orange emerged from the forest. Riders with torches, hundreds of them. And so at last the blazing sky had caught up with them. Tonight, it would be them illuminating the sky, Arya realised with horror, as she felt Gendry’s hand grasp hers and squeeze it reassuringly. You wanted to be a warrior? she scolded herself, Well, there’s your chance. Be one!

As all the Night’s Watch recruits assembled on the catwalk then, Yoren did his rounds among them. “Now, you know what to do, right?” he asked when he came to them, and both Arya and Gendry nodded. “You two stay together, do you hear me?” the old man told her and patted her shoulder for a moment, before he continued on his round.
The while Arya began preparing herself, “Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water. Fierce as a wolverine. Strong as a bear. Swift as a deer. Quick as a snake. Fear cuts deeper than swords.” she said loud enough for her companions to hear and reached for Hot Pie’s hand, to signal him she stood by his side; making him do the same with Lommy to his left, once the torches started flying onto the town roofs. And what had looked like a giant orange worm only a moment ago, was now like angry wasps swarming out and setting ablaze anything they came across.

While their band witnessed the small port beneath them going up in flames like so many other settlements in the riverlands of late, Yoren shouted his commands from his post above the gate. They shouldn’t have stayed here, Arya thought in a mixture of helpless fury and fear, as the riders’ main column headed to the holdfast; apparently led by a stout man in what looked like black and red armour. Outside the gate, he introduced himself as Ser Amory Lorch and bannerman of House Lannister, demanding in his grotesquely thin voice, “Open, in the name of the king!” Not my king, Arya wanted to shout down at him. That little shit never would be.

“The townsfolk’s gone, all I’ve here are some lads for the Watch, and we’ve no part in your war.” Yoren answered calmly, swaying his faded black coat from the battlements for everyone to see. Nevertheless, the knight kept demanding for the gate to be opened, or elsewise they would consider them outlaws in league with the king’s enemies.
“Can’t they see we’re no rebels?” Hot Pie turned wide-eyed to Arya and Gendry, once Ser Amory wouldn’t accept Yoren’s assurances and vow that everyone in the holdfast was of the Night’s Watch and hence no foe of them.
“They don’t care.” Gendry growled, glaring furiously at the men down below – which caused the blazing town to reflect in his eyes, making him look older and fiercer all of a sudden. Like a true warrior.
“But if we’d do as they say—” Lommy suggested panicking, after Yoren refused to open the gate for good.
“They won’t kill us?” Gendry snarled, his eyes fixed on Amory Lorch.
“Look with your eyes, Lommy. We fight them, or we die here.” Arya added, letting go of Hot Pie’s hand to draw Needle, “The man who fears losing has already lost.” she told herself and the recruits around her as much.

Before a mere instant later the first blazing arrows whizzed over their heads, almost half of them landing on the barn roof. Thank the gods, it was slate, Arya thought, seeing most of the fiery shots bounce off and roll into the yard. Whilst the portly knight’s high voice commanded for the keep walls to be stormed, causing Gendry to draw his sword now as well. Which made Arya pull her hand from his, he needed it now. Only, Gendry wouldn’t let go of hers. He held onto it for a moment longer and urged her, “Stay close.”
Until Yoren’s chesty voice rang through the holdfast, “Blades and spears! Spread apart, defend the wall wherever they hit.”

Unfortunately though, the first man Arya saw reaching the top of the battlement was where Hot Pie was posted, causing the baker’s boy to freeze in distress. So, she leapt in front of him and sliced off the fingers of the climber’s hands, while shouting, “Fight, Hot Pie! ” before she whirled back to her post, where another climber pulled himself up just then, drawing his shortsword. But they were quicker. Gendry cut off his sword-hand with a single blow and Arya drew Needle across the man’s throat, diving underneath the spurt of blood to pick up his sword. Before she spun back to Hot Pie, replacing the makeshift spear in his hand with the steel blade.

Just in time, as the next foe’s hands appeared on the battlement between Hot Pie and Lommy. Arya sliced one hand and told Hot Pie to do the same with the other, while she pushed the spear across the catwalk towards Lommy, “In case you need replacement.” Before she returned to her post again, where Gendry had fended off any attackers so far. But somewhere to their right, eventually a man managed to climb over and started cutting down the untrained recruits on the catwalk, allowing more of their men to breach the wall there.

So, Gendry charged at them, leaving it to Arya to defend both their posts, in between keeping an eye on their two companions. Hot Pie fortunately seemed to manage now, as he hacked and stabbed at hands and heads as soon as they reached the top of the battlement. Good. Until at some point Arya realised, Lommy was gone. No! Yet, she had no time to take a closer look at the catwalk further to their left. As she needed to whirl back around to slash and stab at the next climbers, to hold the wall at her post. Before she dared to take a quick glance at Gendry fighting the men on the catwalk to her left, trying to get to the spot where they had broken through. But as she had already suspected, he knew to wield a sword. Good, one less to worry about.

Consequently, she focused on her post and Hot Pie again, shouting “Where’s Lommy?” in between her kills.
“Yard!” the baker’s boy yelled, fighting off two climbers then, as he now also had to guard two posts. So, Arya came to his aid, stabbing both attackers’ throats before she returned to her post. To cut off more fingers and hands and thrust Needle through the visor of another climber. Then again a quick glance at Gendry, who was gaining ground on the catwalk, allowing the untrained recruits between them to hold their posts. Yet right then, she heard Hot Pie’s horrified outcry. Spinning back around, Arya saw him stumbling backwards into her direction, as he ineptly fought off a man charging at him. Another breach. Fuck.

She shoved Needle and herself in between them, commanding Hot Pie, “Hold my post.” and caught her opponent by surprise with her water dancing. The fully armored warrior struggled to defend himself against her quicker fighting style, while she dodged every of his blows, moving behind him and slashing across the hollows of his knees. To then speedily stab the following attacker’s throat. Turning Needle’s blade and ripping it out, she spun back and stabbed the first man in the neck. Before she once more glanced at Gendry and Hot Pie holding their posts, and so did the other recruits in between them. Until Lorch’s men ultimately managed to break through the postern, and Yoren roared, “Retreat! Into the barn! Retreat!”

Arya still fought the men charging at her on the catwalk, but was giving way now to allow Hot Pie and the others to jump down into the yard one by one, while she and Gendry kept closing the gaps until he shouted, “Get down, Arry!” At that, she whirled around slashing one last time to check if he would manage to retreat himself. “Now!” he roared and jumped. As did Arya. Landing the way Syrio Forel had taught her, she immediately spun around again to let Needle open some more hollows of knees and armpits, necks and throats before she reached Gendry.

In time, since the men flooding through the postern now swiftly managed to fight their way to the main gate, allowing the rest of their murderous hoard into the holdfast; leaving the recruits no other escape exit but the trap door.

Still, Yoren kept fighting in the middle of the yard. Whereas Arya and Gendry battled their way towards the suddenly smoking barn, urging the old crow to retreat as well. But he only yelled at them, “You gave me your word, now keep it!” and at that, Gendry grabbed Arya’s arm and pulled her along. Away from the cries of the wounded and dying, into the barn to the screaming, kicking and rearing animals. Where Lommy, Hot Pie and the others desperately fought the burning hay and straw. But it was too late, too many bundles were on fire and soon the entire barn would turn into a thick smoking furnace from the seventh hell. And Yoren was still in the yard.
“The animals, we’ve to free them!” Arya shouted and wrenched her arm free to get to the corrals.
“They’ll trample us all to death.” Gendry called after her, yet followed her still.
“Exactly.” she yelled and pushed him aside to open the first corral.
“The animals! Out of the way, recruits!” Gendry roared and leapt to the other side, swiftly opening the corrals there.
And the other recruits in the barn joined in. “Watch out, recruits! Animals!” they all shouted to warn their companions outside, whilst the donkeys and horses ran for their lives. Stamping down whoever stood in their way, they charged out of the barn, across the yard and through the main gate. Fleeing the burning keep and town.

Arya was about to run after them, to help Yoren. But then she heard Jaqen H’ghar calling, “Good boys, kind boys, help us. We can fight.” he begged, while Biter flung himself at the chains and Rorge kicked cursing at the wooden cage bed. Seeing the flames now reaching the straw by their wagon, Arya spun around to find something to free them. If they could help him… Then, she remembered the axe! she had seen earlier by the wood stacks alongside the barn wall and ran.
“Arry, no!” Gendry called coming after her and fighting off Lorch’s men, while she searched and grabbed the axe, taking it back into the now thick smoking barn. Inside, Rorge’s wild cursing led her the way through the pungent, blazing hot smoke back to the cage. She threw the axe inside, to instantly whirl around again – to finally get Yoren.

Only, Gendry was right behind her and grasped her by the waist, dragging her forcefully to the hole behind the cart. “Yoren’s still outside!” she screamed and fought him, “Let me go—”
“No.” he wrestled her to the ground and pinned her down underneath himself, sheathing Needle and his own sword into their scabbards.
“We can’t leave him—” Arya shrieked in despair.
“We have to!” Gendry snarled unyielding and locked his arms around her, holding her own crosswise to her chest. He moved them both to the edge of the trap door, brought their legs and blades in position and let himself drop, dragging her down with him into the hole. Where he then shook her, “We need to get out of here and quick, that roof’s coming down now any moment.” He forced her to her knees and shoved her into the tunnel in front of him; uncaring she was crying now.

The passageway was so narrow, they both had to crawl. Thus, having him right behind her, holding onto her left leg and blocking her way back into the barn, Arya had only one way to go. Forward.

And when they were about halfway through, they felt it. The rumbling and slight quaking once the barn roof collapsed, sending a blast of burning heat after them into the tunnel. It made them both halt when it hit them and Arya knew then, Yoren was dead.

Nevertheless, Gendry tightened his grip on her leg at the end of the tunnel, to keep her from running right back to the towerhouse. And a part of her wanted to, although she knew, it was too late. And whose fault was that? As soon as Gendry was out of the tunnel himself, gathering her immediately in his arms, she exploded, “You let him die, you craven! You bloody craven, you let him die!” she tried to punch him and wrench free all at once.
But he only pulled her closer to his chest, “He made me promise to keep you safe, no matter what happened to him or the others. And I will.” Gendry told her quietly, “If you want to call me craven for that… fine, then that’s how it is.” At that, Arya went limp in his arms and started sobbing violently.

Yet, he left her no time to deal with the sudden mixture of guilt and grief that struck her at his revelation, since he scooped her up without warning, “We have to leave now. All of us.” he stated and turned around, “Lommy? Hot Pie? Let’s go.”

Both lads had sat silently by the tunnel exit, tired and in shock over what they had experienced only moments ago. Still, they got up straightaway now and followed Gendry unquestioningly towards the north-eastern woods.

Chapter Text

Gendry headed straight to the woods. As fast as he could with Arya in his arms, in between glancing back over his shoulders; constantly expecting to spot riders coming after them or having lost their two companions. Yet, both Lommy and Hot Pie kept following him and as it seemed, no one noticed their three silhouettes fleeing north-eastwards through the orange-lit fields and meadows outside the burning lake town. Which made Gendry eventually conclude, either Lorch and his marauders assumed there were no survivors, or those fuckers were just confident to catch everyone by day.

Consequently, the four of them stepped undisturbed on a deer pass past the treeline that night. Only, the terrain in the pitch-darkness of the forest was even trickier than in the open fields before. Gendry had to slow down his pace considerably, to prevent himself from tripping over roots and rocks and holes in the ground or walking his head and Arya’s right into a branch. Yet, somehow that roused his two companions from their numbed states. Hot Pie of a sudden tipped him on the shoulder, “Jory, wait, let me go ahead and lead you the way.” Before the round lad shoved himself carefully past his back, “Just, um, you need to tell me the directions where to go…”
“Thanks, Hot Pie.” Gendry told him actually relieved, “I’ll give you the directions.”
“And I’ll watch your back. I mean, I warn you if I see— well, more if I hear something in this ghastly blackness.” the skinny lad offered from behind, apparently in need to contribute someway as well.
“Thanks, just make sure you stay within eyeshot, yeah?” Gendry replied over his shoulder.

He was indeed grateful, the younger lads kept an eye and ear out, warning him of obstacles in their way or what lay ahead of them. As it allowed him to slightly speed up his pace again and focus more on Arya’s state now.

She had been sobbing when he had lifted her up by the tunnel, but had quietened down on their way through the meadows. Hence some way into the forest, Gendry eventually dared to address her, “Arry, we could use your help now, navigating ourselves through these woods.” as he felt his muscles burning and tiring rapidly now. Although, she remained silent and refused to look at him, she still lifted her head and loosened her arms around his neck. “We need a hideout when dawn breaks,” Gendry added for all three to hear, once he put her feet back on the ground, “in case those bastards realise, it wasn’t all donkeys and horses that trampled through them fields.”

However, Arya left him scarcely any time to flex his aching limbs, she promptly turned away from him and surpassed Hot Pie walking a few feet ahead of them. Thus, sore muscles aside, Gendry followed swiftly and grasped her hand to ensure she stayed with them; on their way following narrowing deer passes further into the thicket of the old forest.

Where they tried to keep the blazing red sky well at their backs, since the full treetops above their heads allowed only fragmentary glimpses at the constellations. So, whenever they came to a crossing trail, they throughout took the one keeping that damn crimson sky the most behind their backs. Even though, at some point Gendry had thought about changing their directions to mislead potential pursuers, but eventually had decided, it was more essential now to get as much distance between them and that murderous lot as possible. As quick as they could.

And Arya seemed to agree. Whilst she still refused to speak to them, her either pulling him along or constantly walking into his heels now, left not much room for interpretation on that account. So, besides their short stops at three streamlets – to quench their thirsts and wash out their handful of fortunately only insignificant slashes – the four of them kept rushing through the thick woods. For about three more hours, until the fading stars to the east eventually heralded the new dawn. From then on, they focussed more on leaving the least possible traces in their path and started looking for an apt hiding spot.

Before they eventually came across three overthrown trees laying criss-cross atop one another, with thick bramble bushes growing all round; apart from a still rather fresh gash in the ground behind the topmost tree’s rootstock. There, they climbed up onto the trunks and let themselves drop down in their midst, hoping the untouched undergrowth around would fool any chasers into looking for them elsewhere. So long they had no hounds, Gendry thought to himself – knowing, it was no use to scare the others further. Considering how exhausted they all were by then and sunrise drawing nearer and nearer, they could actually count themselves lucky for finding this good a hideout.

So, when Arya then suddenly spoke again, proclaiming she would keep first watch, Gendry felt even too spent to object to that. Although, a part of him still feared she might run right back to the towerhouse, a much bigger part was just glad, he didn’t have to stay up. He wasn’t sure, if we would manage to stay awake for even another half hour. Therefore, he only pleaded, “Just promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.” In hope, she would see reason now.
“I won’t.” she assured straightaway, locking eyes with him and then with their two companions, who studied her almost as cautiously as he did. “I promise.” she told them and turned back to him, “I’m sorry, I called you a craven. I know, you’re not. I just wished—” her voice broke, as she blinked away new tears.
“Me too.” Gendry sighed, laying back and reaching for her hand, just in time before his eyes closed.

Only to startle up freaked, when Lommy later woke him. Though, upon feeling her stir in his arms then, Gendry relaxed immediately. She was still here, he noted somewhat surprised. Thank the gods. Before a dazzling sunbeam hit his face, making him realise, “It’s past midday! Did we all fall asleep?”
But Lommy shook his head, “Arry told us to skip you on the first round.” causing him to snort amused. Unbelievable. Any other girl would have just thanked him. But for her it somehow seemed far easier to return a favour instead of uttering those words. Gendry couldn’t help smiling down at her then; to find her sleeping calmly for once. From utter exhaustion. Nothing else.

They had washed their hands and faces earlier at the first of the small brooks, but the rest of them was still covered in grime and mud and blood. Thus, his smile turned promptly into a concerned frown again, at the sight of her dirt-stained appearance now. All four of them looked quite like they felt – as if they had been to the seventh hell and back. Though, seeing her small stature like that, was especially painful to look at. No living being should ever experience what they had seen these past sennights. Least of all at that a young age… and who knows what had happened to her in King’s Landing?

How the hells got everything so fucked up? When all Gendry ever wanted, was to be a smith. Well, aside from when he was little and dreamed of becoming a famous knight, like every other tyke that age. But unlike most others, he had actually turned out good at fighting; dealing more black eyes and bloody noses than getting them himself, from an early age on. Still, his talent for fighting was nothing compared to his gift at a forge. He had known that long before Tobho Mott had called him his finest apprentice. And all he would’ve needed, was one or two more years to complete his apprenticeship with the Qohorik. But no, that drunken fuckwit of a father just had to get himself killed. By a goddamn boar!

Forcing him to flee the capital like a common criminal, only to get caught up between enemy lines. Where he now also found himself in charge of three youths, of which the youngest was actually a girl. To make matters worse. And on top of that – the bloody fool he was – Gendry had given both her and Yoren his word to keep her safe in all of this. How the fuck was he supposed to do that? In the middle of a war?

He truly had no idea. All he knew was, he had to try. He owed it to the old crow, who had saved him now thrice from Lannister henchmen. And you left him there to die, Gendry thought ashamed. It had felt good to hear her say, she didn’t think him a craven. Since he felt just like that, a bloody coward.

In his mind, remorse fought reason. He had done what the black brother had asked of him, he got her out of there. Saved her. And himself. He could have gone back afterwards, to die alongside the recruiter. Leaving her unprotected. Gendry didn’t like to admit it, not even to himself, but in the end the choice to leave and not turn back had been easier than expected. She simply meant more to him than the old man, or anyone else there. Getting her away from that town, had just been more important than saving Yoren. And although, Gendry hated himself for balancing out one life against another, he knew he would do it again. Instantly.

Only, what was he supposed to do now, with her and the lads? In a region, he only knew from maps he had seen years ago. Go to Harrentown, as Yoren had planned? But unlike the old crow, none of them wore the black of the Night’s Watch. So, they couldn’t count on finding shelter with Lady Whent at Harrenhal, if things on the northern shore were as bad as in the south. Or venture straight back to the kingsroad? In hope, the pillagers fled now all westwards from the northern army. But wouldn’t it be safer then to stay in the old forests until that was the case? Given of course that this supposed witcher of a northern king managed the impossible, and his men actually refrained from looting, raping and butchering the smallfolk in their way. Which Gendry doubted, and not only because he didn’t buy the wild rumours they had heard back at the inn. Chances were, the northern army merely meant a jump out of the frying pan into the fire. For both the riverlands and the four of them.

And then there were the rumours about actual wolves in the area. Gendry didn’t believe, there was a pack of hundreds or even thousands of wolves led by a monstrous she-wolf from the seventh hell. But he knew, there could be some truth in those tales. He had heard stories of wolf packs growing in numbers during wars and winters, and that starvation and scavenging on battlefields made both wolves and shadowcats lose their natural fear of men. Even the part about the monstrous leader could be true, he realised. Recalling some older rumours, how Eddard Stark – then only Warden of the North – had allegedly returned his sigil animal to the Seven Kingdoms, by releasing direwolf pups as big as hounds all over his homelands.

Was that really all fabricated? When the rumours about the Young Wolf claimed, he would ride into battle on a massive wolf, and even Yoren had asserted something similar. Less than a fortnight ago, when he had had enough of the recruits doubting and mocking the existence of snow bears, direwolves, giants and worse, the old man had snorted grim-faced, “You lot better believe in those things now, since before long you’ll come to see some of those creatures up close. And not just beyond the Wall. Them direwolves roam the North again. One even lives at Castle Black now, came with a brother who found him as a pup. A beast as big as those donkeys under your arses. Thus, woe betide you loud-mouths, if you meet that red-eyed devil without his master around.” And if that was true, what should keep such ferocious creatures from crossing the Neck?

They were screwed, literally, Gendry concluded disillusioned. They were stuck in the middle of a war. With no arming or supplies but two swords and the clothes they wore. The while, at least one of the warring parties wanted his head, but also wouldn’t mind raping and murdering the little girl to his right or butchering the two lads to his left. And to crown that all, odds were, they could just as likely fall prey to man-eating wolves. All it needed was one tiny misstep – one wrong decision, and they were done. So, just what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Before long, he decided to consult Arya. As stubborn as she was, not including her would only complicate things anyway – he knew that much by now. But also, except for some impulsive moments, she had turned out quite reasonable and resourceful for her young age. And she had been incredible last night. Aside from the last bit, when he had forced her to leave Yoren behind, she hadn’t even flinched. Not once. Gendry had indeed suspected she knew to fight, but never imagined she would be that good. Her technique was flawless.

Hence, about two hours later he woke her first, to discuss with her in private what they should do now – without spooking the two lads right away. Yet, technically there was no discussion. Since Arya directly told him, there were no way around going back. And he could only concur. Not, that they expected to actually find any real arming or supplies of value left there. But perhaps some things the pillagers had overlooked or estimated worthless, like maybe some tools or hooks… hells, all he needed was a hammerhead and some metal. Therefore, they agreed to sneak back to town in the morning. Reckoning, by then Lorch and his marauders should have left. Or so they hoped at least. Off, to burn and butcher the next village.

Before they eventually woke their two companions, to find that rivulet they could hear burbling along somewhere west of their lair. Which luckily turned out a deep and broad enough brook to wash themselves and their clothes properly. Thus, Arya swiftly announced, she would wander upstream and try to catch some fish while the three of them washed; causing both Hot Pie and Lommy to turn alarmed to Gendry. “He’s not going back there, is he?” Lommy whispered, before she was even out of eyeshot.
“No, just a little further upstream, so our dabbling here won’t alert the fish.” Yet, no one was more stunned than Gendry, when little more than an hour later she not only returned soaking wet and clean, but also carried two fish each in her hands.
“Used my shirt as fish trap.” she explained nonchalantly, seeing the surprised look on his face. Shrewd.

They lit a small fire in their hideout, to dry their clothes and roast her prey. After gulping down the fish, with bramble leaves and the last berries they had found on the inside of the bushes, they let Hot Pie and Lommy in on their plan for the morrow. Their companions naturally protested fervently, and called them insane for even thinking of going back there. Stating, they wouldn’t go anywhere near that godforsaken town ever again. But Arya quickly put an end to that, assuring them, they wouldn’t need to come along and could stay at the hideout until she and Gendry returned. Though, just as they expected, come sunrise both lads followed them back to town – without another word. Too afraid, they could be left behind. All alone.

They returned on almost the same deer passes as they had left there, yet halted behind the treeline. For more than an hour, they watched their surroundings and the scorched shells of the port town, before they lastly deemed the area and the ruins deserted. Only then, they stepped out onto the charred soil, which only two days ago had still been fields ripe with grain. From there, they followed the Gods Eye’s shoreline to the burnt remains of their raft. All their work for naught. “You were right. We shouldn’t’ve stayed here.” Gendry admitted remorseful.
“They could’ve attacked us on the road just as well. And there we wouldn’t’ve had a hidden tunnel to escape.” Arya countered calmly, already searching for any unsinged remnants they could use – it was good to see her spirit returned to its old strength.
“And if they had come just one night later—” Lommy started thinking aloud.
“Don’t.” both Arya and Gendry snarled together.
“Less talking, more looking, Lom.” Hot Pie added, entirely focussed on his task, unlike his skinny friend. But it was a complete waste of time, since they couldn’t even find a single nail or hook.
“Bloody pernickety carpenter.” Lommy growled eventually and for once all of them agreed, though they soon came to regret it.

In town then, all four of them took a deep breath, before they walked up the hill to the holdfast. But the crows on the battlements and in the sky above, as well as the increasing stench of death and decay, gave away what they would find inside afore they entered. That pig-faced son of a bitch had left everyone to rot exactly where they had died, including his own. Right below the battlements lay heaps of mostly Lannister soldiers, flanking the blackened remains of the gate on both sides. And once they stepped inside into the yard, the first dead recruit they saw, was literally the bloody carpenter. Making all of them gulp with remorse over their earlier jest. Although, his head was missing and scavengers had been at him, his carpenter’s attire left no doubt about his identity.

Besides him, Yoren was the only other body, where it was safe to say who it was. His head was split open, yet the great tangled beard could be no one else’s, or the garb, patched and unwashed and so faded it was more grey than black. But it wasn’t solely the sight of the old man’s mutilated head that made Gendry’s mouth fill with vomit then. It was the weapon cutting the skull in two, that caused his heart to nearly stop. It was the axe still stuck in the black brother’s flesh, that made him panic now. Her axe. Gendry’s glance darted to Arya, as he sent silent prayers to the old gods and the new that she didn’t know yet.

Fortunately, her eyes hadn’t lingered on Yoren’s body, but wandered right to the four dead Lannister men-at-arms laying strewn around the old crow. So, Gendry pulled her swiftly into his arm to block her view on the axe, the while he tried to remove it with his free hand, without her noticing. Only, the damn thing wouldn’t move. Fuck. “I want to bury him. At least him.” Arya looked unyielding up at Gendry, as if she expected he would object.
“We will.” he caressed her shoulder reassuringly and pulled her closer to his chest, whilst he signalled Hot Pie and Lommy to aid him with the axe.
“But we should first gather supplies and arming. Just in case.” she muttered even more determined, “And we need to find his coat, given that those fuckers didn’t burn that too.”
“Last I saw it, was on the catwalk. Why don’t you start up there and we look down here and outside, hmm?” Gendry suggested and thankfully she agreed.

Yet, as soon as she turned away, Gendry whirled around and snatched the axe forcefully from Hot Pie’s grip. “If either of you mentions this axe, Yoren’s skull or those bastards from the cage ever again in front of the little one, I’ll split your heads in two, understood?”
“But what have them three creeps to do with—” Lommy questioned puzzled.
“Understood?” Gendry grabbed him by the collar, making both lads nod startled. “Good, then start searching the bodies here.” he told them in a softer tone and let go of Lommy. “Gather anything useful or halfway valuable. Coins, weapons, tools or whatever else you find.”

While Gendry shot a quick glance up at Arya, who seemed already busy with her task, before he swiftly strode out of the gate. Dropping the axe by a pile of dead Lannisters, he pulled the topmost body above it and started searching the corpses there.

And considering their circumstances, they actually got lucky now. First, Arya discovered their own four bundles practically where they had left them, either still somewhere on the catwalk or right below in the yard; apart from filth and blood stains, their sparse belongings and spare clothes seemed entirely untouched. Confirming for good, those craven cunts indeed only came to slaughter them.

Well, some of them seemed to have plundered after all, though mainly their own it appeared. Since the four of them couldn’t find any coins or valuables on any of the dead now. But at least some intact spears, swords and dirks, daggers and sheaths, wineskins and cord and half a dozen bows, quivers and many more arrows; sticking out of corpses and laying on the ground. It was far more arming than they had hoped for, and way more than they could take. The only thing they didn’t find, was neutral shields, armour or chainmail. And while Arya was mainly concerned about the noisiness of the Lannister armours, Gendry was in no mood to run into either Tully men, northerners or more Lannisters while displaying bloody lion-red.

So, they all took a dagger each, and Arya advised Lommy and Hot Pie to also get a spear or shortsword for themselves. Resulting in them taking both. They’re evolving, about time. Whereas Arya and Gendry took each one a bow and filled themselves two quivers of arrows. Knowing, they would need to go hunting now, since they couldn’t find any food supplies.

Already two days ago upon their arrival, had their own supplies on the wagons been the only things edible in the town by the southern shore. But even they lay now charred and crushed under the scorched remains of the collapsed barn roof. Hence, their climb up into the towerhouse was more to reassure themselves, that they truly had searched everywhere, afore they proclaimed there was nothing else left in town. Although, the wooden ladder standing unburnt at the wide-open second-storey door – while the lower wall parts were blackened over a man-high all around the tower – indicated already that the poachers had made it out alive. Thus, all they found inside, were the three wooden stew-bowls and spoons the men had taken up into the towerhouse the night of the attack, and in the ashes of the hearth lay a marginally dented tea kettle reeking of piss. Nevertheless, they took both the bowls and spoons and the kettle. They couldn’t be choosers anymore.

Before they lastly buried Yoren, in the soft ground of what once had been a blooming walled garden alongside the small road leading up to the holdfast. Where Arya carved the black brother’s name into her wooden training sword and marked his grave, declaring, “And now his watch is ended.” Before they swiftly washed out the tea kettle at lakeshore, and then turned their backs on the ruined port for good.

Chapter Text

Seeing Arya turn straight to the northern woods again after they left the scorched lake town, Lommy questioned from behind, “Shouldn’t we rather get back south now, like all those riverlands folks on the kingsroad?”
Though, before Gendry could object, Arya’s resolute answer, “No! We keep going north.” forbid any further back talk or alternative directions. While she urged them all to a quicker pace once more, but not solely to outrun pillaging Lannisters anymore. Gendry soon got a feeling, she was running towards something – as if she feared, some secret time frame would be closing soon. Which made him suspect anew, was she maybe of the North?

Given that she – a supposed Flea Bottom orphan – had known what the Neck was, before Yoren had told the entire band. Or how much she seemed to know about the Watch, apparently even their burial rite phrases. Was that really just because of her brother and uncle? Gendry thought, recalling how she had bubbled over with chuckles at the sight of all the unnerved looks across camp, when Yoren had told them there were direwolf at Castle Black. “How about you catch that red-eyed devil, single-handedly?” Gendry had teased her then, nudging her shoulder with his own.
“No problem at all.” she had retorted unimpressed. Causing him to wonder, if she only thought the old crow was shitting everyone, or if she perhaps knew more.
“So, it’s true, there’s a direwolf at the Wall?” he had inquired curiously.
“You bet! The biggest one there is. White as pure snow and soundless like a ghost, you never hear him coming. And when you see him, it’s far too late for you.” she had smirked with mischief at that. Confirming on one hand that she indeed had already heard of it. But the way she had exaggerated the beast’s terribleness even more than Yoren, had shown him once again, she didn’t want to talk about her past, or her family.

Which left him pondering now as much as back then, How came she to know about the wolf? Had Yoren told her earlier in private? But if not, how then? How and when could her ranger brother and uncle tell her such things? Before they took the black? Or were sworn brothers allowed to visit their homes and families again? Which would have meant moon’s turns of absence from their posts and duties in her case, even if they had travelled by ship. Unless she once was at Castle Black or lived nearby. Or at least somewhere, where tales about the Night’s Watch and what was going on at the Wall were common knowledge. And in the light of that Yoren had told him to take her to Moat Cailin, she just had to be a northerner… if not even one of those crannogmen from the Neck. Given how she could fight, ride and fish – unlike most other girls in the Seven Kingdoms. She even knew to hunt, as it turned out now on their way eastwards round the Gods Eye.

They once more followed deer passes to stay away from settlements and open fields, and thus hopefully out of reach for Lannisters and other marauders. Typically, they walked in silence now, so Gendry and Arya could hunt, without delaying their travel unnecessary. Or at least that had been the plan. For in reality they both struggled with the task, although each of them had once been trained with bow. Yet, where he lacked the practice now, after not having shot one in years, she lacked the strength, since both their bows evidently were constructed for grown men.

Come evening the second day without any luck, Gendry was so mad at himself, he forcefully snatched Lommy’s spear and threw it cursing at some skinny rabbit. Only to miss the lucky little fellow by seven feet as well. And whilst Arya patiently corrected his slight posture mistakes, their empty stomachs were great teachers, too. So, the third day, Gendry finally managed to shoot some pheasant, causing Hot Pie and Lommy to cry out with delight; before they both remembered, the four of them were still on the run. Though, from then on Gendry was successful more and more often. And soon after, Arya also hit her target. The fact, her bow was meant for someone bigger and stronger, had naturally only fuelled her into proving otherwise.

“Yes!” Hot Pie hugged her overjoyed then.
While Gendry snorted laughing, “You’re worse than a least weasel going after prey five times their own size, you know.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” she snapped, clearly offended, “Least weasels are shrewd and fearless.”
“Nothing, as long as you still manage to drag your prey home.” Gendry chuckled, picking up the rabbit she had shot.
“I always do.” she growled, and snatched her real prey from his hand, “Anyone can take on someone smaller or of their own size, that’s not plucky. Least weasels are. Given their size, they’re actual giant slayers.”
“I concur!” Gendry tried to stop laughing, but failed, “In case you haven’t noticed, I was paying you a compliment, weasel.”
“Didn’t sound like one, stupid.”

Once they roasted her rabbit and two partridges that day, Lommy and Hot Pie proclaimed, they wanted to learn shooting a bow now as well. And thus, whenever they set up camp for the night from then on, Arya gave them some brief lessons. But agreed with Gendry, that they first most needed to learn defending themselves with their swords and spears.

Gendry had never thought, he could actually befriend these two lads. But the more they evolved now, leaving the simplehearted Flea Bottom gutter rats behind, the more he liked having them around – and not only because it made his and Arya’s lives easier, the more they could contribute.

Hence, the first time in days, when their old selves fully resurfaced, was when the four of them suddenly stood in front of a weirwood tree one afternoon. A heart tree! in the middle of the forest. Both Lommy and Hot Pie cried out with horror at the sight, and wanted to get as far away as possible from the ‘demon tree’ before nightfall. But Arya didn’t move an inch, she stared at the carved face in awe and whispered absent-mindedly, “Mother was right.” before she declared determined, “We’ll stay here for the night.”

Then, naturally the lads freaked out for good and pleaded with Gendry to bring her to her senses. But he didn’t really hear them anymore, he smiled to himself, seeing his suspicions finally confirmed. “The old gods are watching over us here.” Arya tried to placate them, "We’ll be safe here tonight.” But unsurprisingly they wouldn’t have it and proclaimed they wouldn’t stay anywhere near that despicable demon face. “Fine, but I will.” Arya snorted unyielding and slumped down right in front of the tree’s carved face.
“Do I need to bend you all over the knee now?” Gendry laughed at either of them.
“You watch out, I don’t bend you over the knee.” Arya snapped outraged. Like a true least weasel. The while Hot Pie beseeched him to scoop her up again, so they could leave. “Don’t you dare!” she snarled and glared at him furiously.
“Arry’s right.” Gendry appeased then, “No harm will come to us here, neither from the tree nor anyone else.” Though, of course the two lads didn’t want to hear any of it. Unbelievable. Until eventually they at least agreed, that while Arya and Gendry stayed directly by the tree, they would camp on the far side of the carved face, behind some bushes.

“Thank you.” Arya whispered and nestled up to him as soon as he slumped down next to her to keep first watch, leaning back against the trunk.
“So, not only a little weasel, but a northern one at that, huh?” he whispered eventually, hoping not to overstep any boundaries.
She looked up at him then, yet didn’t lift her head from his chest, “What makes you think that?” Her smile told him, he hadn’t overstepped anything. Yet.
“Um, I don’t know, perhaps because you follow the old gods?” he teased, and her smile widened into a grin. “So much for ‘no one can lie in front of a heart tree’, hmm?” Gendry snorted amused.
“I’m not lying.” she chuckled.
“Just keeping the truth to yourself?” he teased on.
“So?” she growled playfully.
“So, Moat Cailin?” he felt his way further, the while he studied her closely.
“What about it?” she furrowed her brow somewhat confused. So, she wasn’t from there.
“Yoren told me to take you there.” Gendry gave away, but she remained silent and even lowered her gaze now. “I thought, he was taking you to your brother?” he went on, trying to put the few pieces together she and the black brother had given him.
“He was.”

“Then where do you think we should go?” Gendry inquired calmly.
“Moat Cailin’s fine, but I can go there on my own.” she looked up at him again, “I release you from that stupid vow.”
“You can’t release me from giving my word to someone else.” Gendry countered amused.
“Yes, I can. If it concerns me.” she disagreed stubbornly.
“No need for that, I’ve nowhere else to go anyway.” he assured, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.
“But what about your home, I thought you weren’t from King’s Landing?” she asked frowning.
“Technically, I am. Born and raised in Flea Bottom, just like them two fools over there. But Lord Arryn eventually decided I was to become ward to Tytos Blackwood at Raventree. Thus, I don’t remember much about those first five years in King’s Landing, mainly just what my mum told me. And I guess, therefore I can’t really call either place home.”
“Where is she now, your mum?” Arya studied him closely then.
“Buried at Raventree.” he sighed.
“Oh.” she averted her gaze again at that, but tightened her arm’s grip around his middle, “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” he hugged her back.

“So, that’s why you don’t want to go back there?” she asked carefully after a while.
“No, it’s not that. The Blackwoods are Tully vassals and thus now at war with the Lannisters. So, the last thing they need, is me coming back there, putting an additional target on their backs.” he let out another sigh, “Probably best, I just join the Watch after all… at least then, I could finally put a face to that brother of yours.”
“I’ll come with you!” she burst out, a light suddenly glinting in her eyes.
“And what about Moat Cailin?”
“Lays on the way.” she assured, “We just stop there for a night, and travel then on to Castle Black.” she beamed with joy at the thought, “To Jon and Uncle Benjen. He’s First Ranger, you know.” She suddenly seemed so young.

“You miss them.” he stated the obvious and unconsciously started caressing her arm lain across his stomach.
“Didn’t see them in over a year. Since I was made to leave,” she gave away quietly, before she then spat, “to marry that little shit.”
“You’re married?” Gendry blinked stunned.
“Hells, no!” she snorted, adding with a dark grin on her face, “Convinced that idiot twit and his bitch of a mother rather quick that I’m all but marriage material. In case you haven’t noticed, I can be quite the pain in the arse —”
“You? No, never.” he teased chuckling, and earned himself a playful punch into the side.

Before she bubbled along, “You know, about that putting a face to Jon, everyone says he looks like me. Well, actually that I look like him. Since he’s the older, turning twenty this year… how old are you, by the way?”
“Eight and ten.”
“But then you’re younger!” she looked surprised.
“Than your brother? Yes, a year it seems.” he chuckled, “How old are you?”
“Four and ten.” That now surprised him. “Wait, how old did you think I was?” she raised her brow accusing.
“Um, I don’t know… younger.” he tried not to anger her, “You know, your height and build—“
“If those indicated someone’s age, you’d be ancient.”
“Is that why you thought me older?” he taunted.
“No…” she growled and dropped her gaze again, but he knew it was true.

She remained silent for a moment, before she quietly admitted, “You sometimes remind me of Jon.”
“I take that as a compliment.” Gendry told her smiling.
“You’re taller though, and more, um, stronger.” she went on, “More like Robb.” Looking suddenly downcast, “He’s here in the riverlands now, with the northern army. I just don’t know where. But if I maybe could get word to him from Moat Cailin, then perhaps he could come home, too.”
“And Robb is who?” Gendry inquired cautiously.
“My brother. The eldest.” she said, as if it should have been obvious, “He’s also twenty this year.”
“So, they’re twins?”
“No, Jon’s a bastard.” she chuckled. Yet, just when Gendry wanted to feel offended, that apparently him being a bastard too, was what reminded her of her brother, she added resolutely, “But we don’t care, he’s one of us.”
Causing him to shake his head bedazzled instead, “Arya,”
She looked up at him again. “you’re amazing.”

Although, it was too dark then to be certain, it looked as if she blushed somewhat at the compliment. And before he even knew, he placed a kiss on her forehead and hugged her tightly, wishing he had a sibling like her. Instead of that literal son of a bitch in the Red Keep.

Though, right then they heard it. “Sister?” a voice spoke of sudden, somehow distant and yet right behind them. Causing them both to bolt upright and turn startled into the direction of the voice. The tree. Gendry pulled Arya reflexively behind himself and drew his sword, before they heard it again, “Arya! Sister!”
“Bran?” she questioned, seemingly recognising the voice. Whereas Gendry, paralysed with shock and disbelief, watched her approach the weirwood tree. Touching the carved face, she asked the grimace, “Bran, is that you?”
“Yes, sister.” the tree answered! Gendry felt dizzy, hoping he was only dreaming.
“Bran, I’m fine. I’m coming home, we’re in the riverlands now. You need to tell Robb!” she pleaded, “And tell Mother not to worry.”
“I will.” the tree spoke again, promised her.
“Thank you. Oh gods, thank you.” Arya whispered, dropping to her knees. Before she turned back towards Gendry. Tears ran down her cheeks now, but her face was beaming with utter joy. And hope.

The while Gendry woke from his petrified state, “You were talking to a tree. What… what was that?” he blurted thunderstruck.
“My brother. Greenseeing, I think.” she snivelled, yet smiled delighted.
“You can’t possibly think that was your brother?” he objected, “Greenseers… that’s just stories from old times.” he stammered.
“Apparently not.” Arya countered thrilled and recited, “Only one in a thousand is born a skinchanger, and only one skinchanger in a thousand is born a greenseer.” Gendry didn’t understand and kept staring at her bewildered. “Happens my little brother’s a skinchanger, runs in the family.” she explained, or tried to.

“What does that even mean?” he demanded flabbergasted.
“Means, he can enter the minds of animals and control them.”
Gendry furrowed his brow in confusion, until he remembered, “The wolf! The one that warned you, was that your brother?” Arya shook her head. Runs in the family! it dawned on him. “You? The wolf, that was you?” he stared at her in absolute dismay.
Whereas she nodded and quietly admitted, “A wolfdream, accidental though.” before she insisted, “You can’t tell anyone.” Gods, this girl’s secrets started to pile up. “You saw how Hot Pie and Lommy freaked out, just seeing the tree.” Arya pleaded and once Gendry still didn’t react, she vowed, “I won’t harm you, or the lads. Ever. I swear.”

Chapter Text

Olenna Tyrell had invited her to visit Highgarden, to keep her granddaughter Margaery company. But Sansa had understood, the Queen of Thorns’ actual intention had been to introduce her to Willas, her oldest grandson and heir to Highgarden. Even though, Willas was more than ten years older, Sansa and her parents had agreed, she should use the opportunity to spend some time in the South. To get to know the lifestyle there. And her Lord Father had promised her, if she would want to marry Willas, he would give her his blessing. But had also made clear, he would support her, if she should choose not to. Or would prefer someone else. Sansa had hugged him fiercely at that, thanking him. And the following moon’s turns, she had spent preparing for the journey and her Lady Mother had bought her the finest fabrics, so she could make dresses in the southern fashion. Yet, Sansa had also made sure, she spent as much time with her parents and siblings as possible. Since she had feared, she were to leave Winterfell for good. But fate had other plans.

A few moon’s turns later a raven had come from the capital, announcing the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, had died and the King were on his way to Winterfell. Her parents had immediately understood what this meant. However, when the king and half his court had finally arrived, things had taken a turn, Sansa couldn’t have foreseen. Not because the king hadn’t even looked a bit the handsome young warrior, her father had always described – and instead had turned out a fat old drunk. No, King Robert I. had clumsily stepped out of the royal carriage, walked up to her parents, greeted them cordially and then had turned to look at their children and had frozen. The way he had looked at her younger sister, not even thirteen at the time, had alarmed her. And their older brothers and parents as well. While Arya, all fierce and smart, yet, still so young and innocent, hadn’t even understood what had been happening. The king had politely greeted Sansa and her siblings, but his eyes had kept wandering to Arya, staring at her in awe. And so had the queen’s – only hers had barely been able to hide the hatred.

Her sister had always been a tomboy, not at all interested in becoming a lady, and their father had for whatsoever reason supported her in that. He had insisted, Arya had to learn the basic courtesies of a highborn lady, because that was what her status required. But apart from that, he had let her be the wild spirit she always was. Ned Stark hadn’t wanted for any of his children to feel like birds in a gilded cage. Like his own sister had been. But then the man, who her aunt Lyanna had run away from, had stood once more in the courtyard of Winterfell. Staring at her sister, as if she were Lyanna reborn. It was true, even their father had said so, Arya seemed to turn into the spitting image of Lyanna. But he had never failed to make clear, though, both had some traits in common, Arya were Arya. Not Lyanna. Only their king had not seemed to understand that.

He had gone down into their family’s crypts, visiting Lyanna’s tomb, and down there he had told their father he would want him for his new Hand. And also that he would finally want to join their houses. Since he would have a son and their father would have a daughter – his mind obviously already set on Arya. A drunken fool indeed! Her sister was all but a suitable bride, and least of all for a future king. Arya would die, if she were damned to such a life. Even Sansa had understood that by then. Her sister was not interested into birthing heirs or running castles for a husband. It were the cruellest thing, one could do to her.

Thus, their father had agreed to become Robert’s new Hand, on the condition that Arya and Joffrey wouldn’t be betrothed, yet. But that instead, Arya would accompany him to court for a year or two, so she and Joffrey could get to know each other. And should they both then agree, their betrothal could be announced and they could be married as soon as Arya would come of age. Of course, Robert hadn’t liked it. He undoubtedly would have rather seen them married right away. But fortunately, Arya hadn’t even flowered yet, back then. And when the queen had claimed, on this condition, she would agree as well, the king hadn’t had much of a choice and had accepted. Obviously convinced, his son wouldn’t be able to resist such a fierce Northern she-wolf. Since he himself had still been smitten with one, though, a dead one. And the fool Robert I. had been, he had believed, time at court would turn Arya into an obedient little princess. A wolf can’t be tamed! And their king had apparently been the only person in Winterfell, who hadn’t realised that. Just like he had misjudged their aunt. He still had been oblivious to the fact, that Lyanna had eloped to avoid their marriage. And if Lyanna had lived and married him, he probably would have hated her even more than Cersei Lannister by now.

So, when they had told Arya ‘the good news’, she had unsurprisingly ranted and raved. Threatening to stab them all, if they so much as dared to look at her again – and their brothers, including Theon had offered to help her in that. Hence it had been Sansa, who had brought them to their senses. Asking them, if they hadn’t understood, their father had left a huge loophole for Arya in his agreement with the king.
She had told her little sister, all she would have to do in King’s Landing were being herself, “Just be the biggest pain in the neck those southerners have ever seen!”
And soon Arya had sat in midst of them, smirking and telling them, how she would teach those stupid perfumed idiots down south what a true Northern she-wolf was. Back then, they had all been convinced Arya would be back in Winterfell within the year. The king would probably banish her himself, forbidding her to ever cross the Neck again, they had joked.

But then Bran had ‘fallen’ from the Broken Tower and hadn’t woken for an entire moon’s turn. Both his legs had been broken, and though, Maester Luwin had been able to fix them, he couldn’t wake him. Only Bran himself could do that, their old maester had said. However, Robert, that lousy excuse of a king, hadn’t wanted to wait any longer and had dragged both their father and their sister south, before Bran had opened his eyes again. Arya had cried, vowing to return soon and Sansa had promised to visit her on her way to Highgarden.

And Jon had left them as well, that day. He had gone with uncle Benjen, to join the Night’s Watch. His decision had taken them all by surprise and none of them could change his mind. Not even their mother. His mind had been set. Uncle Benjen had joined the Watch voluntarily, and he would want to follow this tradition of sons of house Stark manning the Wall, Jon had told them, then. Maybe Arya could have stopped him, if she had stayed.

Sansa would have left Winterfell the following year, but that plan had been destroyed by the cowardly assassination attempt on their brother, proving what they all had known deep down in their hearts. Bran hadn’t fallen. He had been pushed. So instead of her, their mother had gone south, to consult their father in King’s Landing. And hadn’t returned since. So by the end of the year, Sansa had sent word to Highgarden, informing them with a heavy heart that she couldn’t leave Winterfell as long as their mother hadn’t returned. With both their parents and also Jon gone, she hadn’t wanted to leave Robb. Although, he had told her, she shouldn’t miss her opportunity to see the south, she had seen the relief in his eyes, once she had proclaimed, she would stay to help him with the little ones.

And she hadn’t had much time to regret her decision. Since things had gone south rather soon then for their family. Although Bran had woken up and been alright aside from memory loss about ‘his fall’, their mother had impulsively arrested the Imp on her way back, accusing him of the attempt on Bran’s life. And the Lannisters had answered her foolishness by unleashing the Mountain onto the Riverlands, their mother’s family’s land. While in King’s Landing, Jaime Lannister had attacked their father and killed most of his household guards, so he would order their mother to release the Imp. Soon after Robert Baratheon had died and they had received a letter, stating, their father would have been arrested a traitor, their sister would be held hostage and Robb was ordered to come south, to pledge loyalty to the new king. Joffrey. That had been the day any regretful thought about Highgarden had vanished.

Never in her life had she seen her oldest brother so frightened, so vulnerable and so alone. Seeing him like that, had fuelled her own fear even more. Robb had always been so strong and confident. Thus, she had wished then more than ever before, Jon wouldn’t have joined the Night’s Watch. They would have needed him, then. With Jon at his side, Robb wouldn’t have been afraid, they would have given each other the strength to remain calm. And Sansa had hated, that she hadn’t been able to support Robb like that. Because she wanted to. But she had also understood, she was just his little sister, while Jon was his equal. Theon, Maester Luwin, Syrio and she had counselled Robb, had supported him in his decision to call the banners to free their father and sister.

Thus, Robb and Theon had left the following day, to meet with their bannermen at Moat Cailin, leaving her in charge, as the acting Lady of Winterfell. She had never expected to run a castle so soon. Entirely on her own. And even less that it would be her own home. She naturally had promised Robb to make him and their Lord Father proud. That she would protect their baby brothers, their home and their people, no matter what. And to prove it, she had sought out Syrio Forel the very same day, joining Rickon in his water dancing. Arya and her father had convinced her to take some lessons with the bravo for a while when she had been younger. But Sansa had never been as talented with a blade like Arya and had quickly stopped attending. Archery on the other hand, she had continued to practice daily. After all, shooting a bow could be done in a dress just as well as in trousers. And it had turned out her talent. She had managed to best her brothers and her younger sister, which had driven the latter one mad each time.

But still the spiral, making things worse for House Stark hadn’t stopped turning. A moon’s turn after Robb had left for Moat Cailin, Sansa and her younger brothers had all woken from the same dream, seeing their father in the crypts. She hadn’t paid much attention to it, until Bran had told her he had dreamt the same. Then, they gone to the crypts together, somewhat spooked, and had found Rickon right where they had seen their father in the dream. All the way up to the courtyard, Sansa had tried to convince her brothers that it all were just a stupid dream. Although, she couldn’t even convince herself. And then Maester Luwin had come to them with a letter, unable to speak its words out loud. That had been the moment when she had been about to lose her composure.
But Bran, still so young, had taken her hand to give her support and had said, “We’ve to be strong, for him!” looking at Rickon and she had nodded, fighting back the tears.

Almost three moon’s turns had passed since. Robb had marched south and had met with their mother. And a letter had informed them, Lady Catelyn had decided to stay with him. On one hand Sansa had been glad their Lady Mother wanted to support Robb. But on the other she had wanted their mother come home. Rickon needed her. All of them needed her. After all, the battle-hardened Northern bannermen seemed to support Robb with all their heart. They had even crowned him King in the North, when they had been unable to decide, which Baratheon brother they should follow.

It truly was madness. Three Baratheon kings. Two brothers, Stannis and Renly, and their nephew Joffrey all three called themselves the rightful king and fought each other. And according to Stannis, Joffrey wasn’t even a Baratheon, but Jaime Lannister’s bastard. All three of Cersei’s children would be. It would explain a lot. But still it was utter madness. Stannis fighting his younger brother about the throne, before any of them even had it. Instead of joining forces against the Lannisters, deciding who sits the damn thing afterwards, they waged war against one another. So, the Northerners had done good to choose themselves a king of their own. At least their king was reasonable. And only waged war against the Lannisters because they had butchered the whole Stark household, murdered their father and held their sister hostage – leaving him no other choice but to declare war.

Therefore, Sansa spent her days now mostly with running the castle and their lands, corresponding with Robb and their mother and practicing archery and water dancing in between. She had even made herself some trousers, Robb’s and Theon’s old ones just didn’t fit right, and she was eager to improve her fighting skills now. With Robb, Jon and Theon gone, she was the only one standing between their younger brothers and their enemy. Well, not literally, they still had guards and men left to hold Winterfell and protect them. But Sansa wanted to be prepared for the worst. That much she had learnt within the past one and a half year, since her Lord Father and Arya had left their home.

If only her duties would leave her more time to spend with her brothers. Bran was mostly taking care of Rickon now and Sansa felt guilty for relying on her younger brother to do so. Especially, since Bran was so keen to prove her, he could manage. He always offered his help, as soon as he saw her struggling with anything. Which made her wonder, when her baby brother had become so old. So wise. It seemed, as if his mind had aged years throughout his sleep after the ‘fall’. He was only twelve year old, and should still be enjoying childhood. As long as it lasted. Arya had been only a few moon’s turns older, when she had been made to leave.

So, at times, Sansa had only the time past nightfall, she could spend undisturbed with her baby brothers. When they went to the Godswood at nightfall, to pray together. For Mother to come home. For Robb, Jon, and Theon to be strong and to remain unharmed. And of course, for Arya to be fine and to come home as well. They would do so every night now. And afterwards they sat together, to tell Rickon tales and stories, from times before he had been born, or things he couldn’t remember anymore. Until tonight. Tonight was different.

Once they prayed for Arya’s safe return that night, Bran suddenly spoke, “Sister?”
Sansa turned to him, thinking he would be talking to her, but he wasn’t. His eyes were open, but his glance was empty. Absent.
And when she was just about to shake him, he called out louder, “Arya! Sister!” followed by an overjoyed, “Yes, sister.”
Sansa and Rickon just stared at him, thunderstruck.
And last Bran said, “I will.” before he turned to Sansa, smiling, “I saw her,” he started laughing in utter delight. Apparently, he only now understood what had happened, “I saw Arya!”
Sansa was at a loss of words.
But Rickon wasn’t, “What? How? Where?”
“She said, she’s fine and coming home. She’s in the Riverlands now. And I ought to tell Robb, and Mother not worry.” Bran said, beaming with joy.
Yet, Sansa only stared at him in disbelief, absolutely stunned.
“Sansa, do you hear me?” Bran shook her, ”She’s fine. The Lannisters don’t have her, they’re lying!”
Sansa’s mind was racing, and she remembered what Old Nan and Osha had told them, “You mean, you were greenseeing?” she asked, blinking bewildered.
And Bran nodded, “I believe so.”

“She’s right.” Sansa agreed, slowly getting back control over her mind, “If she’s not their prisoner, Robb needs to know.”
“She’s not, I swear.” Bran urged her to believe him, “She looks older now and cut her hair. But it was her! I saw Needle on her belt. And the man said ‘Arya’—”
“What man?” Sansa looked puzzled again.
“The man she was with. A young man like Robb and Jon, or Theon maybe.” Bran was getting desperate to convince her, “It was him saying her name, um, what somehow ‘called’ me, I think.” he paused and then continued “I thought her name and at the same time I heard him say it, and then I saw them. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was her, because of the age and hair… but when I said ‘Sister?’ she heard me. They both did. And then she told me what I need to tell Robb and Mother—”
Sansa hugged him, “Calm down, I believe you.” And how could she not, when she herself could enter the mind with a wolf.
“So, Arya’s coming home?” Rickon asked, his eyes wide with hope.
“Yes.” they both said unison, smiling at their little brother.

“But first Bran will tell us calm and in order what exactly he saw.” Sansa said, looking at him, “Now, you thought of Arya, thought her name and heard the man say it and then you just saw them?”
Bran nodded.
“What exactly did you see? Where were they? Were they alone? Just think on it a moment and then tell us. The more we know, the better. Maybe we can give Robb a hint where to look for her.”

“Um, I think they were alone. It was dark, night. They were under a weirwood heart tree. And he had his arms around her—”
“What?” Sansa interrupted alarmed, “How did he have his arms around her? Did he hurt her?”
“No.” Bran frowned thinking, “Kind of hugging, I’d say. Like father and mother did.” At that Sansa cocked her brow, but her younger brother just went on, “The man was leaning against the trunk and she was beside him, her head on his chest and her arms around him. And then he said ‘you’re amazing’ and kissed her—”
“What?” both Rickon and Sansa gasped wide-eyed.

“A kiss on the forehead, like Father used to do.” Bran snorted.
“And then?” Sansa asked, still wondering why Arya would snuggle into a young man like that, let alone allow him to kiss her.
“Then I said ‘Sister?’ and they both jumped. And the man drew his sword and pulled Arya behind himself. I think he’s protecting her.” Bran locked eyes with Sansa.
“Was he a knight?” Rickon blurted excited.
“I don’t know. He wasn’t wearing armour or anything the like, and I didn’t see any coat of arms.”
“What then?” Sansa asked, trying not to sound impatient.
“I called ‘Arya! Sister!’ because then I knew it was her. And she recognised my voice and stepped to the tree, telling me she were fine, that she’s coming home and in the riverlands now. And that I need to tell Robb and that Mother shouldn’t worry. And I said ‘I will’ and she said ‘thank you’ and looked back at the man, who looked petrified. And that was it.” Bran said, “Oh, and they were in the woods, deep in the woods, I think. There was lots of undergrowth around them, I couldn’t see anything but woods, no road or holdfast or anything, I'm afraid.” he was clearly disappointed, he couldn’t tell them more about Arya’s location.

“It’s alright, Bran, you told us a lot.” Sansa patted his back, “We know now Arya’s not in King’s Landing, as the Lannisters claim. We know, she’s heading home, and apparently she isn’t alone but with a friend, who’s protecting her. And that’s great news, Bran.” Sansa assured.
Yet, he furrowed his brow again, “Something about him looked familiar.”
“What do you mean? Did you recognise him?”
“No.” Bran’s frown deepened, “I can’t really name it… it’s as though he looked like someone we know. Yet, I’m sure, I’ve never seen him before. He was really tall and strong, like Robb. Black hair and blue eyes, I think. Though, I might be wrong since it was dark.”
“Doesn’t ring any bells.” Sansa said a bit disappointed – it would have solaced her, if their sister had someone they knew at her side.
“But it’s good he’s tall and strong, if he’s protecting her, right?” Rickon suggested, eager to comfort his older siblings, who were deep in thought now.
“If he does so, then yes.” Sansa replied.
“I’m quite sure he does. Arya likes him, she looked, um, happy.” Bran claimed.
“Good.” Sansa said, getting up. At least one of us is… “I’m going to write to Robb and Mother now.”
“Then I’ll tuck Rickon in.” Bran offered, ever trying to be helpful.
“I can go to bed myself!” Rickon growled, slightly offended.
But Sansa overlooked his protest, “Thank you, Bran.” knowing, deep down Rickon was glad to have them mollycoddling him. “You did great today. I’m proud of you.” Sansa assured, “Both of you.” and kissed them on the forehead, like their father had used to do. lLike ‘the man’ had apparently done with Arya.

She went straight to the lord’s solar afterwards. Brooding over, how she could tell Robb and their Lady Mother that Arya was heading home, without having to write it down. Ravens can be shot down. She didn’t want their enemies to know, that they knew Arya wasn’t a hostage of those lying bastards, and she couldn’t give Arya’s whereabouts away, no matter how vaguely they were. Her sister would struggle enough to get to the Neck alone, with only one protector. The Lannisters undoubtedly were trying to find her, hunting her. So, Sansa couldn’t tip them off, she had to encrypt the message. Why hadn’t they thought of a code, before Robb had left? Stupid!

But then she had an idea, and decided to split her message in three, making each look like encoded information about their enemy’s movements. “Underfoot confirmed in the Riverlands.” said the first scroll of parchment and the second, “Horseface marching north with reinforcement.” and the last, “Confirmed: Climber is Greenseer. In hope, Robb and their mother would understand what she tried to tell them.

Chapter Text

At the heart tree, Gendry had eventually claimed, he were fine and not afraid of her. But when he had lain down that night, with his back turned towards her, Arya had known, nothing was fine. Not once since they had left King’s Landing, had she seen him sleeping like that – not facing her, not wanting to keep an eye on her. Perhaps he didn’t fear she would hurt him, but finding out she was a skinchanger, had changed something for him. So much for ‘you’re amazing’.

She had felt her stomach tingle when he had said it, and even more when he had kissed her, and his stubble had tickled her skin. Well, evidently, she had amazed him too much then. She missed feeling his arms around her… his warmth. Not, that she was cold. She wasn’t. She obviously had just eased into having him there – so close. She had just liked it.

But she wasn’t like Sansa or Jeyne Poole, she wasn’t weak without a man. She was all but that, she didn’t need him. Or any man. Aside from her brothers, and maybe Theon. They expected her home now anytime. Sansa, Bran and Rickon, they needed her. To protect them. Hence, Arya had no time for… such folly. She had to get home as soon as possible, and nothing else mattered. It was the three lads’ choice, if they wanted to come along to Winterfell or not. She didn’t care.

Or so she tried to tell herself. For whenever she glanced back over her shoulders, to find them – him – still there, she felt undeniably relieved. Nevertheless, she turned her back on him now, too. Night and day. She didn’t even check, if he still kept sleeping like that or not. Since why should she care? Yet, every night she caught herself hoping, she would awake in his arms again come morning. That stupid bull.

Unfortunately, the only thing she woke up to a couple of days later, was a slight dragging stomach-ache that soon worsened, and making water provided but a short relief, before the sickening pain returned again. Only moving seemed to ease her discomfort somewhat, hence Arya remained silent all morning and focussed on going as quick as she could without shooing all game away. But since ‘the incident’ at the heart tree she had barely spoken a word anyway. Least of all to him. Thus, she hoped now, the lads wouldn’t notice, and the aching would eventually allay. It didn’t, though.

By noon Arya felt so nauseous, she didn’t even dare to take a small bite of the duck, they roasted. Then, the lads naturally noticed something wasn’t right with her. Fuck. Nonetheless, Arya refused to meet their eyes. No need to see their stupid judgy faces again. She had had enough of those at the heart tree. Thus, she just sat there with her legs pulled to her chest, clenching her fists and digging her nails into her palms – in hope they would soon move again.

However, when they finally got up, Arya felt all remaining colour drain from her face and cold sweat emerge on her forehead. Before a mere instant later she found herself leant against a tree, throwing up. Just great! Now they definitively knew. So, of course then that bloody oaf had to ask, if she were alright. As if he cared. “I’m just fine.” Arya hissed, hoping she sounded annoyed enough to keep him at bay. And at least her stomach-ache allayed for a while now.

Still, when they came across a small cave less than two hours later, Gendry suggested immediately, they should stay there for the night; claiming the overcast sky would probably mean rain before long. But Arya knew her vomiting was the real reason, even though Lommy and Hot Pie agreed promptly and all to willingly to setup camp there. Since midday she had constantly felt all three lads’ eyes on her, and her refusing to eat her share of duck now once more, only increased the frequency of their concerned side-glances.

However, only when the sickening pain returned a little while later and Arya went to make water again, she eventually understood. She wasn’t sick. She was bleeding. Gods, why now? Out of all times. While she was on the run, disguised as a boy, and all alone in the woods with three lads at her heels. She hated being a girl. Now more than ever.

Thus, Arya stomped back into the cave, snatched wordlessly all her bundle and disappeared into the forest; leaving her dumbfounded companions behind. Though, of course he came quickly after her then, demanding to know where she was going. “To have a bath.” she hissed. Yet, when she didn’t hear him return to the cave, she whirled around and shouted, “What’re you waiting for? Go back.” Which seemed to puzzle him even more, as he still didn’t move. “Now! Or do you want to watch?” she snarled.
“Arya, what’s wrong?” he questioned alarmed.
“Nothing, I need a bath. And some privacy, if you don’t mind. So, leave!” and she ran, relieved once she didn’t hear him follow anymore.

Eventually, she came to clear streamlet, where she washed herself and her bloodstained smallclothes. But soon she started sobbing. How was she supposed to hide she was a girl now? Arya knew of course she could count herself lucky, it hadn’t happened earlier with all the other recruits still around. Nevertheless, it was now as if their entire world came crashing down onto her. Just a few more fortnights… that was all she would’ve needed, she thought in despair, feeling suddenly more than a little girl than ever before in her life.

She cut off some pieces from the fabric she used to bind her chest to avoid new bloodstains on her clothes. But how should she manage to sneak off to change and clean it… who knows how often a day? Not even Hot Pie and Lommy were that stupid to not put two and two together, then. She could run, an impulsive thought suggested. Before Arya remembered, there was still a war going on around them; with men like Amory Lorch and the Mountain’s hunting them. They couldn’t just rape her now. Even if they managed to escape again, she could get with child now.

That thought frightened Arya more than death itself. She didn’t want to die, but least of all like that. Like so many women did. Like her aunt had, once she had been only two years older than Arya was now. If she had to die in this war, she wanted to do so upright and fighting. For the ones she loved and cared about. Not drained of all strength and will, by her own body. Not like Lyanna.

Arya remained at the small brook for almost two hours, in shock over her own body’s betrayal. She sat at its bank, her legs pulled to her chest once more; rocking back and forth, since that seemed to allay the pain somewhat. Until she eventually heard him again. Seven hells, why couldn’t he just get it? He was literally the last person she wanted around now. “Don’t you dare come any closer.” she snarled, without even turning to face him.
“Arya, I’m worried about you.” he told her calmly and approached slower now.
“You didn’t give a fuck since the heart tree. So, why bother now?” she spat.
“You know, that’s not true.” he countered, sounding slightly offended.
“How would I?” she scoffed unapologetic.

“You know damn well I care, or else I wouldn’t be here, would I?” he retorted, getting louder. Obviously losing his patience with her. Too close.

“I said, don’t come any closer!” she hissed, “Just like I said, I needed privacy. Which part didn’t you understand?” about to turn around to yell at him.
But he pulled her to her feet just then, forcing her to face him, “My arse! I’m done listening to your horseshit. You’re sick and in pain, and you tell me right now what’s wrong with you.” he demanded furiously.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just want to be alone.” she snarled, before she broke away from his grip to throw up again.
He was fuming now, “Stomach-ache. Nausea. Vomiting. Sweating… you could die from this—”
“Hardly.” she snorted dismissively and would have laughed at him, if she hadn’t felt so miserable.
“Well, my mum did.” he snapped. Fuck. Arya looked up at him, realising he really feared for her life.
“I’m not sick or dying.” she growled and rolled her eyes, seeing herself forced to speak it out now, “I’m bleeding.”
“What? Where?” he retorted alarmed, looking her up and down.
“Seriously? I’m a girl, you idiot.”

She blushed with shame at that, feeling her cheeks and ears heat up. This literally was the most humiliating moment in her life. He was absolutely the last person, she had wanted to know.

Arya needed to get away from him. At once. Only, he grasped her arm, “Wait, I’m sorry. It’s just, my mum had all those signs. You only lacked the fever, and I feared it would soon follow.” Gendry explained, “Since, err, you know… I’d never seen you like that.”
“Hardly possible, when it’s the first time.” she growled, staring at her feet.
“Oh… oh!” he finally understood what was going on, “Um, I don’t know what to say now.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head, clearly embarrassed himself now, “Um, are you okay? I mean, besides the pain and vomiting?” Arya only nodded, not interested in sharing her thoughts and how she felt now. Least of all with him.

But he still didn’t seem to get it, since he began anew, “Um, did your mother or—”
“Don’t you dare give me that ‘You’re a woman now’ speech!” Arya snarled, glaring up at him.
“What? No. No, I wasn’t—” his face turned now the same bright red as hers, “What I meant was, err, I wanted to ask, if there’s maybe some herb you know of… to help with the pain and nausea.” Oh.
“I believe, my sister and her friends picked silverweed and lady’s mantle for tea.”
“Then we get you that.” he said determined.
“I don’t think they grow so deep in the woods.” Arya sighed, before she then added, “But maybe tea from stinging nettle.” recalling how Old Nan had used to drink it all the time. It would help with literally anything, and old age in particular, the white-haired crone had always claimed. While Arya had thought it utter nonsense when she was little, considering the fact the wrinkly small woman wasn’t called Old Nan for no reason.
“Let’s just see which we can find.” Gendry suggested and picked up her bundle, before he took her hand to lead her upstream.

“What about the others?” Arya asked eventually, “We can’t fool them for much longer now.”
“We could try.” Gendry countered, clearly trying to cheer her up now, “Who knows how far we could get with this little charade, hmm?” But it didn’t work. “Or, since we’re just the four of us now, you could tell them.” he suggested after a while, “They’re perhaps not the brightest or bravest, but they’re good lads. I doubt it’ll matter to them, if you’re boy or girl.” He was right, Arya decided. “I bet, they’ll only admire you little weasel even more then.” Gendry added, once she nodded.

They followed the stream for a while and came across enough stinging nettle for a life time. But although they found two bright clearings nearby, they found neither lady’s mantle nor silverweed there. Hence, Gendry ripped out a handful of stinging nettles by the brook, before they eventually headed back to the cave.

Where their two companions evidently relaxed, upon their return to their little lair. “We found some mint.” Lommy jumped up straightaway and showed them.
“Should help with the nausea and vomiting.” Hot Pie explained and poured hot water into one of the bowls, before Lommy added some of the leaves and offered it to Arya. Who looked questioning at Gendry then, but he only shrugged. Leaving it unclear, if he had told them so or if they had come up with it on their own. Nevertheless, she was grateful and thanked them afore she sat down opposite to them at the campfire.
“Listen, we need to tell you some things.” Gendry began once he slumped down beside her, to drop some nettle leaves shreds into her tea, “Things, you can’t tell anyone, do you understand?” Both lads nodded, noticeably keen to hear their secrets.

Though, while Arya assumed, Gendry would tell their companions her secret now, he instead told them, his name weren’t Jory but Gendry. Which the two younger lads then found a rather disappointing secret; as they apparently no longer recalled that the gold cloaks had brought up that name at the inn. Yet, once Gendry attempted to explain, Arya interrupted him, “And I’m a girl.”
“I knew it!” Hot Pie burst out delighted, “Told you, didn’t I, huh?” He punched Lommy, who stared at her in disbelief.
While Arya and Gendry blurted simultaneously, “You knew?”
Causing Hot Pie to reveal quite proudly, how he had gotten wise to them, “Well, not at first. But when Jory— err, Gendry carried you after the battle, like a man would carry a woman—”
“What?” Gendry interrupted thunderstruck, “How else should I’ve carried her?”
“Well, if she would’ve been a boy, you would’ve hoisted her up over your shoulder and run. Or at least, you would’ve done so with Lommy or me, right?”

Arya stared at Gendry, seeing his face redden. Apparently, Hot Pie had a point, no matter how stupid his theory sounded. “And when we hid under those tree trunks, I also noticed, you two snuggle together like two lads never would… or at least you used to do so until of late.” the baker’s boy went on smart-alecky. The while Arya suddenly busied herself with gulping down her still too hot tea, to not have to face any of them. “I told Lommy you were a girl then, but he wouldn’t believe me.”
The skinnier lad shrugged, “I just thought you two were, you know… since unlike him idiot,” he pointed at Hot Pie, “I know men can sleep like that, too.” Before he looked from Arya to Gendry and inquired, “So, are you two, you know, in love?”
“What?” Arya choked on her tea.
While Gendry blurted, “Hells, no, we’re just friends.” Causing a little sting in her chest.

But Arya had no time to think on it, since Hot Pie asked downright, “Are you sure? You two fight like an old married couple, all bickering and ranting.”
“No, we don’t.” Arya snapped outraged and turned to Gendry, “This’s your fault, you said, we should tell them…” afore she stormed off once more.
Hearing Lommy call after her, “See, that’s exactly what we mean—”
Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious, Arya thought fuming, Stupid men.

Thankfully, were the two apparently not-just-as-foolish-as-they-had-thought idiots already sound asleep, when she eventually returned to the cave. “Want some more tea?” Gendry offered directly and filled her another bowl once she nodded. “And, um, we put some stones near the fire. I could wrap one up in my spare shirt, so you could, you know, hold it to your belly.” he suggested slightly abashed, “I recalled my mum doing that, when I had stomach aches when I was little.”
“You didn’t tell them, did you?” Arya inquired warily.
“No, nothing they need to know.” he appeased.
“More like nothing youneeded to know.” she growled.
“I see, you’re not letting me off the hook about that any time soon, huh?” he tried to suppress his chuckle, but only succeeded once he got serious again, “Do you want me to hold you tonight?” Causing Arya’s glance to dart to their sleeping companions. “I don’t care what they think.” Gendry added calmly.
“Not tonight.” Arya shook her head, yet snorted a moment later, “But I’ll have that stone.”
”As m’lady commands.” he teased chuckling and undid his bundle.
“Don’t call me that!” Arya snapped and punched him, making him chuckle even more.

Chapter Text

Arya sat in the crown of an old tree. Originally, to orientate herself, if they had finally reached the Gods Eye’s northern shore – it had been over a fortnight since Amory Lorch had attacked them. And indeed she could see the lake’s northern end, and even something that looked like a holdfast. It looked small from her point of view, but the way its towers stood out against the sky even from that distance, Arya knew it was gigantic. Harrenhal. Seat of house Whent. Her grandmother’s house. But she had seen her hopes crashed once too often lately, to let herself hope again. Yes, maybe they would be safe there. Maybe they would even find Robb there. But chances were greater to find the keep in enemy hand now. Or why else would Amory Lorch dare to maraud so close-by?

She would think about that later. Since way closer than Harrenhal, maybe an hour away, Arya could make out a fishers’ village. And that was the reason she still sat in the tree. Watching for signs, if it were safe to go there or not. She was unable to come to a clear conclusion. On one hand there were smoking chimneys, apparent signs of life in the village and on the other, there was a swarm of crows circling over its roofs. Which could only mean one thing. Death. And that the enemy had been there. Maybe even Lorch again, killing smallfolks and their livestock. So, the only question was, who lit up the chimneys now? Was it returned villagers? Or was the enemy still there? And if so, why? Arya thought about using a bird, to check what was going on from afar. But in the back of her head she heard Osha’s warning, It’s dangerous to enter a bird’s mind. One easily loses contact to the mundane things and forgets oneself. And she couldn’t risk losing herself in a bird now. Not only was her own life at stakes, but also those of her three companions below the tree.

Thus, back down on the ground she reported her finding to them. And Gendry agreed, there was no other way than scouting. They debated, whether only one or two or all four of them should go. Arya would have preferred to go on her own. But Gendry wouldn’t have it and declared he would go instead, ignoring her objection that he were too noisy. Hence, Arya threatened, if he would do so, she would follow. And the two boys didn’t want to be left behind and proclaimed then they would follow her. So, in the end Gendry had to agree, all four of them would go. They waited for nightfall and moved slowly closer, splitting in two groups as soon as they reached the treeline at the outskirts of the village. Gendry would have preferred to team up with Arya, but the two boys were too frightened to go on their own, therefore Arya went with Hot Pie along the lake shore and Lommy followed Gendry sneaking up from the eastern side.

Arya and Hot Pie crawled behind bushes at the shoreline, and were met by an almost unbearable stench of decay the closer they got to the houses.
“It smells of dead people here. We should go back.” Hot Pie whispered.
But Arya only shushed and went on, until they reached the source of the stench.
“Whatever you do, don’t look up!” she whispered into his ear, then.
Yet, forced herself to do just that. To look at the corpses, swaying in the breeze at the gibbet above them. Most of them were barely recognisable, hanging there for quite some time and scavengers had been at them. The crows still were. Still, Arya crawled further and Hot Pie followed. They had to know what was going on here. But they didn’t, until they were close to the village’s centre, seeing a long slate-roofed storehouse, guarded by two Lannister men. Damn.

Arya and Hot Pie retreated at once. But heard screams coming from the other side a mere moment later. And then metal clanging. Swords! One of the guards ran towards the noise, and Arya swiftly placed her hand over Hot Pie’s mouth. Please, don’t let it be them! She couldn’t retreat further. She had to know first. And soon four Lannister men returned with a prisoner to the warehouse. Gendry! She recognised instantly. NO! The men had disarmed him and dragged him to the storehouse.
As one spearman boasted and laughed, “Carry him, he said! Why the hells did he think, I put my spear through his leg? Stupid skinny bastard.”
NO! Oh gods, please, no. Not Lommy! Don’t let him mean Lommy, Arya hoped, while she watched the men push Gendry through the warehouse door. Her mind was racing. Panic was about to take over. She should have scouted alone! No, she should have used a damned bird! So what, if she had lost herself!? At least her friends would be fine then …

Once Arya looked back at Hot Pie, seeing him all wide-eyed, she knew he understood what happened. She tried to soothe him and hugged him. Held him and caressed his back.
“We can’t know he was talking about Lommy.” she whispered into his ear, “We have to check first! He might be wounded. So, I need you to stay calm now. So, we can help him. And Gendry. Okay?”
Arya didn’t stop stroking his back until Hot Pie eventually nodded. Only then they crawled back alongside the shore, back to the gibbet. She in front and Hot Pie close behind. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water. Quiet as a shadow, Arya told herself. She couldn’t freak out now, or all hope were lost. She had to stay strong. For Hot Pie, to keep him calm. For Gendry, to save him. And for Lommy! A voice in her head tried to tell her, what she refused to accept. No, we don’t know that! Not until I’ve seen his dead body …

But it was all for nothing. When one of the guards passed by the bushes where they cowered behind, unmoving and holding their breathes, a crow mistook Hot Pie for a rock and landed on his back, making him inhale in shock. Although, Arya drew Needle and attacked right away, her sight was blocked by twigs and leaves and Needle was unable to hit its target – it only scratched along the metal of the man’s armour. So, Arya told Hot Pie to run, but it was no use. He got caught by the man in front of the bushes and she leapt right into an ironclad fist. She tried to dodge the blow, averting her face, but it still hit her temple. Making her tumble down like a rock, about to pass out. While the man who had hit her took her sword. No, not Needle! was the thought her fading consciousness clang to, once they dragged her and a sobbing Hot Pie to the storehouse, pushing them inside.

Gendry was by their side instantly. Although, she couldn’t make out his face – her sight was blurry and her head buzzed with pain – she felt him picking her up. He carried her a few feet and laid her down on the ground, examining her. Only then she allowed herself to pass out.

Once she regained her consciousness, she didn’t know how much time had passed or where she was. She tried to get up to look around, but regretted it promptly. The slightest movement increased the buzzing headache out of scale. And Gendry made her lay down again, telling her not to move. But she couldn’t. She had to know.
“Lommy?” she asked, while her hand searched Hot Pie’s.
Gendry silently shook his head and Hot Pie started sobbing again. No! Her headache kept her from joining in, so her tears ran down her cheeks in silence. And when she locked eyes with Gendry, she saw his tears tried to well up, too. But he fought them back with sheer will, clenching his jaw, before he placed his hand above hers holding Hot Pie’s.

It was not long after sunrise, when the storehouse door was kicked open, causing everyone inside to bolt upright. The villagers clustered themselves instantly against the walls, urging away from the door. And although Arya and her companions didn’t know why, the horror on their fellow captives’ faces made them follow their example – headache, bruises and cuts or not. Six Lannister men entered, and right behind the largest man Arya had ever seen. Yet, not for the first time. She recognised him straightaway. Gregor Clegane. The Mountain That Rides. She knew then, they were in trouble. Like never before. And Arya wasn’t the only one to understand that. The moment Gendry saw the three black dogs on a yellow field, he moved her behind him, careful not to arouse any attention. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords … Syrio’s words were no good anymore. Again, Arya had to revise her definition of fear. She knew, what would happen here, was worse than King’s Landing. Worse than passing by massacred villages and Amory Lorch’s murderous attack. And she couldn’t stop herself from trembling and huddling against Gendry’s back. Thankfully, he directly understood and reached behind, grasping her hand. Though, unable to hide his own shaking. Hot Pie seemed the only one who didn’t know yet, how far in trouble they were. So Gendry pulled him closer as well.

Once the Mountain and his men finally left the warehouse at sunset, Gendry shoved both of them to their sleeping spot. And Arya had believed, they now would be left alone until sunrise. But she was wrong. The previous night, her concussed head had prevented her from noticing what was happening after nightfall. She found out now, when Gendry and Hot Pie lay down left and right to her, pulling their cloaks over them. They both were so close, she couldn’t move anymore. At first, Arya had thought Gendry meant to comfort Hot Pie. But when the storehouse door flung open, both of them moved even closer, their shoulders almost touching above her, hiding her. She had no time to ask why. Whimpering and crying could be heard since the door had opened. And a female voice was louder than the others. Sobbing and pleading, it moved through the room and out of the door, accompanied by the clanging armour. Within the blink of an eye, Arya understood why her companions were hiding her. And tried to make herself even smaller in between them.

They spent eight days in the storehouse, watching the Mountain’s men torture and butcher their prisoners in front of the others. Each morning, Clegane would pick someone to be interrogated by a man the captives called ‘the Tickler’. His questions were always the same, they burned themselves into Arya’s mind – impossible to ever be erased again. Is there any gold or food hidden in the village? Where is the brotherhood without banners? Where is Beric Dondarrion? How many men does he have? Who in the village assisted them? Is there any gold or food hidden in the village? Where is the brotherhood without banners? Where is Beric Dondarrion? How many men does he have? Who in the village assisted them? Is there any gold or food hidden in the village … By the third day, Arya would have been able to interrogate the prisoners herself, in her sleep.

No matter what the villagers would give away, hidden supplies or valuables or names of those, who supposedly had helped that mysterious brotherhood without banners, in the end they all swayed from the gallows. As feast for the crows. It made no difference, if one averted his gaze, never looking at the Mountain. Or if one tried the opposite, locking eyes with him. He picked whoever he liked, erratically. An old man, who had mended their clothes was picked. Just like the girl who had slept with one of the soldiers for three nights in a row.

So, the villagers endured whatever the Mountain’s men could come up with. Without any resistance, just like sheep. But Arya didn’t judge them, she wouldn’t even dare. By now, the Lannisters had literally taken everything from her. Her father. Her friends. Her hope. And with Needle, they now had even taken away her courage. She knew she was about to break, all it would take was the Mountain pointing his monstrous finger at Gendry, Hot Pie or herself. She once might have thought of herself as a wolf. A great direwolf of the North. But now she knew, she was not. She was not even a sheep. She was less than that, a lamb at best.

Never had she felt so vulnerable and fragile as now. Never had she been less in control over her body or her life. And for the first time, she accepted and even wanted the protection of men. Arya hated herself for being so weak, so in need for Gendry and even Hot Pie to protect her – when they both needed protection just as much. Yet, she was grateful they did it. But she couldn’t even tell them, since they were forbidden to talk. They saw villagers getting their faces smashed for disregarding that order – and those were the lucky ones. A woman, who couldn’t stop screaming after her son had been butchered, was killed. Just like that, Raff the Sweetling had struck her down. So, all Arya could do, was wipe away Hot Pie’s tears, when he silently mourned their friend at night, or hold their hands to thank them.

It was no use to be brave, Arya had quickly realised. The brave ones weren’t the ones who lived. The brave ones were killed, as soon as they showed any sign of resistance. So, somehow she was even glad they had taken Needle away. Or else she would be swaying from the gibbet by now as well. It was the smart ones who lived. The ones, who kept their heads down and were lucky enough not to be picked. No tactic or strategy worked to survive this. Except for one’s.

When the Mountain pointed at Gendry, he swiftly pushed Arya into Hot Pie’s arms. Pressing her face against the boy’s chest, so she couldn’t scream or do anything stupid, to get herself killed. And once the Tickler started asking his questions, he calmly answered them truthfully. Telling them, he weren’t from the village, and thus he wouldn’t know anything about hidden valuables or secret food supplies. That he wouldn’t know what the brotherhood without banners was. Or where Beric Dondarrion were or how many men he would have. Since he were an armourer’s apprentice from King’s Landing, heading to the Wall after his master had sold him to the Watch. At first, the Tickler didn’t believe him. So, Gendry retorted calm and almost confidently, that he could easily prove it. He named the technical terms of any part of their Lannister armour and stated, if they would have him an anvil and a hammer he could show them. Then Arya understood, only a moron would kill a blacksmith in wartime. Or at least that was, what Gendry had been counting on. He knew, he was their most valuable captive. Well, not really. But neither Gendry nor the Mountain’s men knew, they had Robb Stark’s missing sister under their thumb as well.

In the end, it was only women and children, very old or very young men, and the three of them that marched to Harrenhal. And the Mountain proclaimed, there they would serve Lord Tywin – their final chance to prove they were no traitors or rebels. They never stood a chance to get north around the Gods Eye, Arya realised. Neither on the kingsroad nor along the western shore. They should’ve gone to Riverrun … then Lommy would still live.

Chapter Text

Upon their arrival, the three of them had been quickly separated. Gendry was put to work in the forge, Hot Pie in the kitchen and Arya was made a servant girl to some understeward. But Harrenhal was so gigantic, people could live and work here for years without ever meeting. Therefore, Gendry hadn’t seen her in over two moon’s turns now. He would work all day, until he dropped down dog-tired onto his pallet by nightfall. And even if he left the forge on some rare occasion, he never even got a glimpse of her. Not even from afar. He undoubtedly would have been worried sick, if it weren’t for Hot Pie. Who came by the forge almost every day, to get the men their share of food. But he also kept Gendry posted about her, assuring him time and again, she were better now. Almost her old self again, the baker’s boy claimed. Though, Gendry didn't believe him until the younger lad mentioned, she would go by the name Weasel now. Good girl. Only, that understeward of hers would watch every step of his charges so closely, she could never sneak away. Not even for a moment, his friend told him.

Gendry got along with the men at the forge. Well, most of them. But none of them was special. Like her. None of them meant anything to him. None of them he would call a friend. Leaving Hot Pie the only one he had left. And not only because Gendry was stung with remorse for what had happened with Lommy. He would never forget the boy’s sudden cry of pain – one moment they had been sneaking through the undergrowth and the next, Lommy had a spear pierced through his leg, before they had even known they had been discovered.

That loss und what had happened afterwards at the storehouse had changed Hot Pie. All of them, evidently. But Hot Pie clearly the most. The two years separating them in age were barely evident now. Which made it easier for Gendry to open up to him. He actually looked forward to his visits. Hot Pie was the only person he would really talk to, the only one who could even make him smile these days.

Especially, when Hot Pie told him, he would like a kitchenmaid named Jenna. And how Arya would try to help him woo her. By apparently telling him everything about her sister and some Jeyne friend, or what the other servant girls would say about stolen kisses. Still, Hot Pie wasn’t persuaded of her matchmaking talents and stated, he would need a man’s advice. And looked expectantly at him, causing Gendry to choke on a piece of meat.
“Um, I don’t think I’m the right man for that, Hot Pie.” he retorted, somewhat sheepishly.
Oh, come on, man, you must’ve been with hundreds of girls—” the younger lad snorted, disappointed.
“Actually, there was just one.” Gendry sighed.
“You’re jesting!?” Hot Pie blurted stunned, “Half the servant girls swoon over you. What’s your problem?”
“You do know, I’m a bastard?”
“So?” Hot Pie frowned.
“I don’t want any bastards of my own.” Gendry growled.
“That’s just fine. But doesn’t mean you can’t like girls!?” Hot Pie countered bluntly, “If you like one, just marry her then!”
“You think, I hadn’t tried?” Gendry retorted, harsher than he had intended.
And Hot Pie’s eyes went wide, “What happened?”
“Wouldn’t want to marry a bastard smith anymore when a fancy knight came along.” he stated sullenly.
“So, it’s not just looks what makes a girl turn you down?” Hot Pie questioned amazed.
“No.” Gendry chuckled and assured, “They find a thousand reasons to do that …”
At that, Hot Pie thanked him and returned cheerfully to the kitchen, his confidence obviously pepped.

Then one day someone entered the forge behind him. But Gendry didn’t turn around, thinking whoever it were, would call, if they would want to speak to him. Yet, after a while he noticed some of the apprentices were grinning and sniggering. And eventually one of the journeymen called him, smirking like the smug fool he was, and nodded towards something behind Gendry. So, he finally turned. To see for himself what all the fuss was about … and there she was! Her hair longer, nicely combed. And her dark grey dress accentuated her female body. She looked older now. No longer the scrawny little tomboy he had known.
“You look …” he stammered stunned, “like a girl!”
“I am one.” she snorted and stepped closer.
“No, I mean … um, almost like a lady.” he tried to explain.
“Don’t call me that!” she retorted offended and punched him.
“I said almost.” he chuckled and teased, “You’d be the worst lady ever—”
“Thanks.” she hugged him fiercely, and completely ignored his grimy apron.
While he still laughed about her taking the compliment as offence and vice versa.

“I think, you just ruined your dress.” he said, still holding her.
“Who cares, can’t wait to get rid of it anyway.” she scoffed.
Making the two apprentices next to them snigger again. Until they saw him glare.
“You look nice, though.” he said, once he put her feet back on the ground.
“Nonsense. Stupid bodice annoys the hells out of me. And don’t get me started about those skirts …” she huffed, “Ever tried to climb a tree in skirts? Broken neck guaranteed!”
“I doubt they put you in a dress to make you climb any trees.” he laughed.
“I know damn well why they put me in one.” she retorted angrily.
“But you’re okay otherwise, are you?” he asked her.
She nodded, “You?”
“Yeah, thought it’d be worse. Lucan isn’t Tobho Mott, but he’s alright.”
“Which one’s him?” she looked around, “I’ve got a message from Weese. Some stupid lordling lost his sword. I’ve to get him a new one.”
They hugged again before she left, “I’ll come by again.” she promised.
And he watched her run back over the yard, realising how much he had missed her.

Yet, he wasn’t lost in thoughts for long, as the smirking journeyman came prying.
“Seems like a handful, that one. Your bird?” he teased.
“No…” Gendry blurted reflexively at the notion, yet regretted it immediately.
“She seems fun.” The man smirked pleased.
“You just said, she was a handful?” Gendry hissed, not liking where this was going.
“Doesn’t mean she can’t be fun, does it?” the man suggested, grinning even wider now.
“Do you even know how old she is?” Gendry snapped infuriated.
“Looks old enough to me…” the journeyman shot back unmoved.
So Gendry shoved the sword he was working on back into the embers, and put the hammer down before snarling, “You stay the fuck away from her! Do you hear me?”
“Thought you ain’t interested in her?” the journeyman retorted unregenerate.
“I’m not.”
“Then what’s your goddamn problem, mate?” the man snorted annoyed.
“My problem?” Gendry growled, searching his mind for a way to put an end to this. “Did it occur to you twat that haply she’s my sister?” he snapped livid.
Which fortunately worked, the journeyman turned tail promptly, murmuring to himself, “Well, how should I’ve known that? Never said you had a sister …”
Gendry huffed noisily, his jaw and fist still clenched. She was right. That bloody dress was a problem.

And only a couple of days later she showed up at the forge again. In the evening this time and obviously not on an errand. Which made Gendry wonder, what happened to the understeward’s watchfulness? This time he had turned immediately, once he had seen the lads snigger again. He had finished his daily work as quick as possible and led her outside, out of earshot from the others.
“So, is this going to become a habit of yours, sneaking in and watching me work?” he asked amused.
“Actually, it’s an old habit of mine.” she grinned, as they walked further away from the forge. “I used to hide in the smithy when I was little. When I was sick of hearing, I’m of no use with a needle and would’ve the hands of a blacksmith, so I—”
“Those little things?” Gendry chuckled and took her hand in his to prove his point.
“I wasn’t just watching Mikken, I helped him!” she huffed, sounding somewhat offended.
“So, I’m your new Mikken now, hiding you from doing your chores?” he teased.

“I can hide myself.” she snorted, “And you’re too skinny to be Mikken.”
Making him burst into laughter, “That might change sooner than you or I might like, with everyone saying I’m all like my begetter …” Before her angry reaction made him frown.
“You’re nothing like your father.” she hissed, her eyes glinting with fury.
“How would you know?” he questioned, getting suspicious when she dropped her gaze to the ground, hiding something.
“Because I know you.” she growled stubbornly, “You’re everything he never was.”
Although, it felt good hearing her say so, he couldn’t stop wondering, what it was she didn’t tell? Yet, he didn’t dare to ask. She would tell him, when she was ready, he told himself, like when she had let him in about her family.
“Gendry,” she asked after a while, “could you make me a sword?”
“I fear, that’s beyond my power right now.” he sighed, hating to have to refuse her. And her disappointed look hurt, especially since they both would feel better if she had a blade again.
“But one day I’ll make you one. I promise. Maybe even my masterpiece …”
She hugged him fiercely at that and returned to her quarters, leaving him once more absorbed in thoughts. Maybe not a sword, but a smaller blade …

And the following day, Hot Pie provided Gendry with an explanation, why Arya had been able to visit him so soon again. Three days back, Weese had apparently been killed by his own dog. And rumours would say now, the bitch had been jinxed. By the ghost of Harrenhal.
“Ghost of Harrenhal?” Gendry snorted, “My arse!” he knew exactly who had jinxed that dog.
“He deserved it.” his friend assured, “That guy gave me the creeps.”

Even though, Hot Pie claimed, the new understeward weren’t as watchful as Weese, it took more than two fortnights until Arya showed up again. In a complete unexpected way.

Like the other journeymen and apprentices, Gendry slept on a pallet above the forge. And he couldn’t say for how long he had been asleep that night, when he suddenly startled to the touch of something cold and wet against his bare chest – her hair.
“It’s only me.” she whispered.
“What’re you doing here?” Gendry asked drowsily.
“Sleeping.” she murmured and snuggled against him once more.
Making him jump at the touch of her bare legs and arms, “You’re unclad!” he blurted wide-eyed.
“No, stupid.” she snorted, lifting his blanket to show him.
“That’s just … smallclothes!” he stammered, feeling the blood rush into his cheeks and his … Fuck! He needed to get away from her. “You can’t sleep here. Least like that!” he claimed alarmed.
“Why?” she asked, completely unaware.
“Where’s your dress!? Put it on again! Now.” he demanded upset.
“It’ll get all grimy again, I can’t wash it in the morning.” she tried to explain.

“Arya, you need to leave!” he ordered.
“But we used to sleep—” she replied puzzled.
“We’re no longer in the woods, there are rules now—” he retorted unflinching.
“I don’t care! ” she countered, “And your smith friends don’t either. I know Pretty Pia’s been here—”
“And why do you think she was here?” he growled, getting angry.
“I’m not stupid!” she whispered defiantly, “But what has that to do with me?”
“If anyone sees you here, you, me, both in undergarments …” he wanted to yell at her and could barely keep his voice down, “They’ll think I bed you!”
“So? Who cares?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, right before he saw something dawn on her.
“You care!?” she stammered, “You don’t want them to think we—” and rushed herself into her underskirt, “I didn’t mean—” she grabbed the rest of her clothes and fled swiftly out of the window.
Letting herself drop into the yard, she darted through the rain. Halfway dressed as she was, disappearing into the darkness. Fuck.

Naturally, Gendry was on edge the following days. Waiting for Hot Pie to confirm she had gotten safely to her quarters. Or if any of the men would tease him about his nightly visitor. But neither happened. Since some other scullion suddenly brought them their shares. Forcing Gendry to stew in his own juice, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

At sunset, he went to the kitchen yard, hoping, he would see her on his way there. But the only thing he got a glimpse of was Hot Pie talking to his Jenna.
“She seems nice.” Gendry said, when the girl had left.
“She is.” Hot Pie replied, before he whispered, “Why did you send her away!?”
“She told you?” Gendry asked surprised and got instantly shushed by his friend.
“Yes, we talk. We’re friends!” Hot Pie whispered seemingly offended, before he stated in the same low voice, “Just like I thought you were her friend!”
“Are you mad at me?” Gendry realised puzzled, also whispering now, even though, he didn’t know why.
“Maybe.” Hot Pie growled, “Depends on what you’re going to do now.”

And told Gendry then, the new understeward were even worse than Weese. Making him clench his jaw and fists more at every word that followed. The new understeward would beat his servant girls with a birch. And would only avoid drawing blood, since he would want them pretty. At night, he would lock the girls in into their quarters, while he would gamble and drink with the soldiers. Though, on his return he would pick one to warm his bed. Or even worse, he would sell them to the soldiers to pay his gambling debts. Oh gods, he sent her back to that! Gendry felt sick.
“You said, she were fine … could manage with the new understeward!” he hissed.
“She was!” Hot Pie assured, “Hasn’t spent a night in those quarters since he’d dragged the first one to his bed.” That’s why she asked for a sword.
Arya would climb out of the window or pick the lock to get out. Knowing with all the towers in Harrenhal undermanned one more empty bed wouldn’t grab a drunkard’s attention, Hot Pie went on.

However, then Lord Tywin would have named her his sole cupbearer – due to her savvy and alleged sense of duty. Since she would work until nightfall, then vanish into thin air and show up again come dawn. Clever. But one of the other girls would have sold her out then, out of jealousy. And furious for being outwitted, the understeward would have tried to kick her down the stairs. Yet, Arya would have managed to stop her fall – unharmed, besides a slightly sprained wrist. But wouldn’t have been able to serve Lord Tywin properly for almost half a fortnight. Which would have earned the understeward the lord’s disregard. And her a deadly enemy.

Thus now, the understeward would want to get back at her, would want to discredit her with the lord. He would have even promised rewards to the other girls and his soldier friends, if they could tell him where she hides.
“He’s hunting her!?” Gendry realised horrified. Why didn’t she say anything?
And Hot Pie nodded, “I hid her in the kitchen storerooms, but the head cook found out. So I sent her to you.”
“Oh gods, what have I done!?”
“She only needs a place when it’s raining.” Hot Pie whispered, “Can’t serve the lord all dirty and wet, you know.” giving her hideout away to him.
“The godswood?”
Hot Pie nodded.
“Okay, I’m going to think of something.” Gendry lied. He knew exactly what he would do, “Be here tomorrow by nightfall. I need you to show me the man.”

He had gone back to the forge, before he went to the godswood, pretending to pray in front of the heart tree. When in truth he only watched the crescent rise, wondering if her brother could see him now.
And just in case he would, he whispered, “I’ll do what I can to keep your sister safe, Bran. I promise.”
But no one answered and Gendry couldn’t deny the relief he felt at that. He still didn’t know what to think about all this. Skinchanging. And Greenseeing.

However, by the time he finally heard her asking from behind, “What’re you doing here?” he had been halfway asleep.
“We need to talk.” he said before he even turned to face her, he wasn’t in the mood to beat about the bush.
“No need! You don’t want me in your bed. Got it.” Arya scoffed and stepped behind the tree.
“I’m not here to talk about that.” Gendry followed her behind the tree.
Though, seeing her unlace the top of her dress, made him stop in his track promptly.
“Not pretty enough to bed, but watching is fine!?” she hissed, when she saw him stare and turned her back on him.
“What!?” he stammered dumbfounded, while she pulled the top over her head.
“You heard me.” she said coolly and removed her dress’s skirt.
Before she quickly scrunched it all up into a bundle, gathering the front of her underskirt, she made to climb the tree.

“Wait! What do you mean?” he grasped her by the waist, and pulled her down.
“Isn’t that obvious!? You’re not that stupid!” she bristled with anger.
An he swallowed, knitting his brows in confusion. Was she saying what he thought she were?
“Either say something or let go of me!” Arya hissed lividly.
Although, he felt absolutely uncomfortable and for sure didn’t want to know the answer, he slowly asked, “Arya, do you want me to bed you?”
His heart was racing and he wasn’t able to unfurrow his brow.
“NO!” she sounded as if he had gotten it all wrong. Yet, before he could feel relieved, she changed her mind, “Maybe.” she whispered insecure.
“Why? We’re friends.” he asked bewildered.
“I don’t know.” she huffed, apparently confused herself, “I just don’t want you to think me ugly. Too ugly for … that.”
“But I don’t!” he assured, “Remember, I said you look nice, and I meant it.”
“Then why were you ashamed of me that night?” she asked puzzled.
“I wasn’t ashamed of you.” he stated, “You just … um, took me by surprise!”
That she had indeed. Only thinking of it, made his blood rush into all the wrong places. He didn’t want to look at her like that. She was his friend!

“And, um, I might’ve let the men believe you were my sister.” he eventually admitted, expecting her to get upset.
“Why would you do that?” she chuckled with surprise and turned to face him.
“Didn’t like the way they looked at you.” he growled abashed.
Yet, she smiled.
“So, you understand, why I wouldn’t want them to see us like that!?”
“That’s stupid! I slept nestled up to my brothers all the time—”
“Lately?” he cocked his brow.
“No.” she murmured, before she snorted stubbornly, “But that’s because I wasn’t home in over a year.”
“I doubt your older brothers would want you in their beds only wearing smallclothes.”
“You don’t know them!” she retorted, unwilling to admit he was right.
“In that case I do! Believe me … unless of course, your family follows the Targaryen tradition.” he teased to prove his point and she countered with a punch.

 “So, can we now be friends again? Just friends and nothing else?” he asked after a short moment of silence, and was relieved to see her nod. Careful not to upset her again, he began, “Like I said earlier, I came to talk about something else. Your new understeward—”
“I’m fine, I can handle that dirtbag!” she interrupted stubbornly.
“I hear your back tells a different story.” he countered calmly, unwilling to give in.
“Bloody Hot Pie!” she rolled her eyes.
“Want to show me?” he asked pleading.
“I thought we’re just friends!?” she snorted, “Yet, now you want me to undress?”
“You could just lift your bodice a bit.” he appeased, his face flushing.
“You can’t just lift the damn thing! Told you, it’s annoying like hells …” she scoffed.
Still, she turned her back to him and unlaced and removed her bodice. Holding it close to her chest, she allowed him to lift her small linen blouse on her back. To find bruises of all stages dappled over her back.
Gendry flinched backwards, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I can take a beating! How do you think I learnt water dancing?” she snorted stubbornly and put her bodice back on, before she turned to face him again.

Though, her eyes went wide at once then, seeing the three blades shimmer in his hand.
“For me!?” she asked stunned.
“It’s no Needle, I know, but they should answer the purpose.” he assured.
It was a dagger and two smaller ones with narrow blades and flat handles, so she could hide them in her sleeves.
“Gendry, they’re … gorgeous.” she murmured amazed, once she examined them. Before she flung her arms around him, whispering, “Thank you!”
“I wasn’t done, yet.” he chuckled and handed her an oilstone and sheaths, “And some leather, so you can attach them to your clothes.”
“Can’t you get in trouble for this?” she worried, “What if someone snatches the blades of me like Needle and recognises your work?”
“Impossible! Unless it’s Tobho Mott.” he assured, “You think, I’d put my mark on lousy Lannister blades?” They could force him to smith for them, but not to use his full potential, he thought stubbornly.
“But Lucan and the others, didn’t they see you make them!?”
“No.” Gendry assured, “Worked some late hours these past few sennights.”
At that she hugged him once more, “Thank you! For being my friend.”

Gendry stayed with her that night. And like before in the woods, they snuggled into each other, right under the heart tree. Though, Gendry feared her brother might ‘greensee’ them again, he feared more for her safety.

And by nightfall the next day Hot Pie led him to the quarters, where the understeward usually gambled. Finally giving a face to his target. And Hot Pie assured, the scumbag would never leave the place before midnight. So, Gendry returned to the forge, pretending to go to bed like the others. Only he didn’t. Once he was certain, the others had dozed off, he rose from his pallet and went back there. Hiding in the shadows. Watching the understeward enjoy his lucky streak during his final hour amongst the living. Until he stood up, bidding cheerfully goodnight to his friends, undoubtedly looking forward to enjoy his warm bed. Sadly, though – for him – he had never made it there. The man had drunkenly tripped on the staircase outside his sleeping quarters, breaking both his jaw and his neck.

However, once Gendry headed back to the forge, she suddenly walked beside him and teased, “You didn’t really think, I wouldn’t know what you were up to?”
“Just like I wouldn’t know who that ghost of Harrenhal was, jinxing a bitch to kill her own master.” he teased back and took her hand. He felt no remorse, only relief.

Chapter Text

At the storehouse Arya had felt like a lamb to the slaughter, but then she had at least still had Gendry and Hot Pie. Though, upon their arrival at Harrenhal they had even taken them away. Turning her from lamb to mouse – as grey as the dress they had forced her into. And since then Arya hadn’t even seen a glimpse of her companions. The holdfast was so enormous, she hadn’t even known where to look for them, even if she would have dared. Which she hadn’t. They probably were dead anyway, she had feared. And the first few days, Arya had winced at every sound and movement, thinking that would be it now. That the Lannisters would finally come for her as well – to torture, rape and slaughter her. She had almost wished for it. For someone to put her out of her misery.

And someone did. When she tasted blood, at first, she had feared it were her own. But it wasn’t. She was the one who spilt it. She was fierce and strong and free. She was a wolf again. The great she-wolf from hell. Come to prey on lions. Lions, her human called them. Those ugly humans with their sharp long claws, in their rock-hard pelts of red. She didn’t fear them. She and her pack had found their weak spots a while ago. Their legs were barely covered by that strange pelt. And neither were their armpits and throats. Right were the big veins run. She truly had no reason to fear them. She had the numbers. And with her sheer size, she was the one triggering the fear, anyway. She was more than twice as big as her smaller cousins. And she could scent the fresh stench of fear leaking from their human pelts, whenever she stepped from the treeline. It was delicious.

Her human was with her, once she and her smaller cousins closed in on the small red caves surrounding the massive black den at the great water. They remained silent. Her human told her so, promising they could catch them all sleepy and unprepared, then. So, first they killed their scouts. And then their guards. One by one, ripping out their throats and dragging them into the undergrowth. Her human was right. In the small soft caves they found the human lions sleeping. Skinned of their pelts and claws. Unaware of the wolves coming for them. It was almost too easy. They raided uncountable little caves on the outskirts of the lions’ lair. Ripping out throats and dragging the limp bodies back to the woods to feast on them.

Arya woke to the howling of hundreds of wolves. Nymeria. Telling her she was retreating her pack after their feast. She had told her so, knowing Lord Tywin would need to act after such a bold advance against his host. He couldn’t risk the demoralisation of his troops. Even though, her friend had been unable to get her out, Arya smiled. Nymeria had still saved her. Handing her back, what she had lost in a storehouse at the Gods Eye. Her eyes flashed, like they hadn’t for a long time. She was no mouse! No lamb! No sheep! And she would not be sheep or lamb or mouse again. Ever. She was the wolf in sheep’s clothing, raiding the Lion’s den! she promised herself that night. She had the means to it. She would manage. Nymeria would return, eventually.

And come morning, Weese instantly noticed the sudden flickers of defiance in her eyes, and slapped her right away. Trying to break her spirit. But he only broke her lip. He warned her, better to forget her newfound courage. Yet, every slap he gave her, only taught her to hide her defiance better. It was almost like a game. Especially, after he had sent her to fetch food for the first time. That was a mistake! Of him. Not her. Finding Hot Pie in the kitchen, alive and well and hearing Gendry were, too, only fuelled her spirit even more. She was a great she-wolf of the North, and her pack was alive. She would fight all seven hells to get them back! Thus, when Weese eventually sent her to get that sword, he had doomed himself.

He, his sword-losing lordling and all their world were forgotten the moment she entered the forge, seeing him. After having been separated for so long, it suddenly felt unreal. Like a dream. Although, she stepped closer, she didn’t dare to speak or touch him. She had never seen him work. And was fascinated. She had liked to watch Mikken work, and had spent some time at the forge in the Red Keep. Yet, this was different. She had seen a sword being made before. But this was something new. She couldn’t tell, was it his slightly different technique? Or was it him? When he eventually turned around – his annoyed expression changing into a surprised smile – the spell on her was broken. It was no dream. He was her best friend! she knew, once he called her ‘the worst lady ever’. Without even knowing.

Afterwards, on her way back, she rubbed some more dirt onto her dress and claimed she would have tripped, due to carrying that big sword. Which promptly earned her another beating.
“Think me fat-headed, you dumb bitch!?” Weese spat, “I can scent your man on you …”
And she decided, time to get rid of him! She couldn’t let him watch her every step any longer. Or else he might find out what she really was up to. Although, it was a necessity, the rumours afterwards surprised her. And she quickly took a liking to her nickname, ghost of Harrenhal. Fitting.

However, she couldn’t enjoy her secret fame for long. She hadn’t thought of Tywin Lannister’s endless row of monsters crawling from his pockets. She had foolishly hoped Weese’s replacement were someone nicer. Stupid! Even though, the new understeward was entirely ignorant and easily fooled, he was worse. And Arya hesitated to plan his demise. It wouldn’t have been much of a challenge. She could have just slit his throat with a stolen blade or a makeshift one – on one of his drunken returns after gambling with his soldier friends. But she didn’t. She dreaded the next monster Lord Tywin undoubtedly had up his sleeve. And after all, she had adapted quite easily to this monster. Sure, she had liked having a bed again. But it hadn’t been a big deal to not use it anymore, once the new understeward had taken over.

She felt safer sleeping in the godswood, anyway. And spending more time there could only increase her chances to hear Bran again, she told herself. She tried to talk to him, calling him. In vain. But she couldn’t give up, one weirwood heart tree was as good as another. And Bran had managed once, he could do it again. She just had to believe that. Only, instead of just sitting below the tree, waiting for her brother to speak to her once more, she soon began practicing sword fighting again. On the ground and up in the tree, to keep her sense of balance sharp. And even though, her sword was only a stick, each cut, lash and thrust was soon accompanied by a name. Joffrey. Cersei. Illyn Payne. Meryn Trant. The Hound. Amory Lorch. The Mountain. Polliver. Raff the Sweetling. Chiswyck. Dunsen. The Tickler. Those were the people she hated. The people she wanted dead. Punished. Preferably by herself.

Although, she had quickly added the new understeward to her list, he wasn’t a priority. She had vowed not to befriend anyone after King’s Landing, and losing Lommy had proven her to better stick to that oath. To protect her heart. Or else it would kill her. Along with the Lannisters killing everyone dear to her. Gendry and Hot Pie, they were the only ones that mattered. They were her pack. For them she would do anything. But the other prisoners didn’t affect her. At least not directly. She wouldn’t allow it.

Nevertheless, she had tried to help the other girls, had woken them when she had picked the lock. And the first few times some of them had followed her out, but soon had stopped. Apparently, they thought beatings worse than being raped and sold. Fools. For Arya it was the other way around, a beating she could take. Yet, being raped and sold a whore, she didn’t know if she could endure that. And she wasn’t willing to find out. The girls didn’t want her help? Fine! Why risk her life for someone she didn’t care about, anyway?

And in the end it wasn’t her, they were indebted to for slaying that monster. She knew Gendry was up to something, as soon as he mentioned her back. So, she followed him, watching the man who had preyed on her fall prey to him. Gendry avenged her. And the other girls. Not just the ones in Harrenhal, she suspected. Arya had seen his face in the storehouse, when he had decided to act against his moral compass. Each time telling himself, he were doing the right thing – choosing the girl he knew over the girls he hadn’t known. Choosing her over his honour, she thought, still grateful. He was smarter than to die a stupid hero!

And obviously smarter than her own father. As she found out a couple of days later, overhearing a chat about a letter Stannis Baratheon had sent to all the great houses. Apparently, had Ned Stark chosen his honour over her. And even though, Arya hated herself for it, she couldn’t refrain from getting angry at her father, then. He had acted as his stupid honour had commanded him. Yet, he hadn’t thought it fit to inform his almost grown daughter about the danger he and his entire household had been in. He and all those people were dead now, because he had been too bloody honourable! Why couldn’t he just pack his things and leave? Why did he care who sits that damn southern throne? Targaryen. Baratheon. Lannister. It made no difference for them in the North. And had he even once thought of her!? How completely unaware and unprepared she was for everything that followed? If only he had said something! She could have helped him. Saved him … no, he wouldn’t have listened. She only would’ve died alongside him, she realised. And recited her list in her mind until nightfall, calming herself, hoping she would have a chance to practice this night. She needed to practice. Now more than ever, now that she finally knew why …

However, after Gendry had removed her list’s latest addition, she was more often forced to recite her list silently in bed. Like a prayer before sleep. Since Lord Tywin – tired of his understewards undermining him with their stupidity – had given her a small room in the Kingspyre Tower. So, she could attend to him at all times. Even on sudden nightly war councils. Although, Arya didn’t mind to have a bed again – and this time out of reach for the creeps – it didn’t fit as well into her own agenda as she had first thought. Sure, it gave her constant access to vital information, like Stannis’ letter or that her brother had made it to Riverrun by now. But at night, she couldn’t sneak off to the godswood as easily as before. If she wanted to practice, she had to prepare the council room first. Making sure the hearth was lit for the hour she were gone. And that water, wine and bread and cheese were within reach for the lord and his commanders, so he wouldn’t need to send for her straightaway.

She needed to practice. Not so much with a sword, since she had none. But with Gendry’s gifts. What good were three beautifully crafted blades, hidden underneath her dress’s layers, if she was too rusty to use them? And unfortunately, she even got caught soon. It was only the fourth time she practiced with the daggers, when she suddenly heard a strange but familiar voice.
“A boy becomes a girl.” he said, before he stepped forth behind a tree.
She had been completely unaware of his presence, Arya realised alarmed. How was this possible? In the afternoon, she had seen him and his two companions ride through the gates at the end of Amory Lorch’s column. And had hid at once behind the next building’s corner. He couldn’t have seen her then, could he? It didn’t matter. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Remembering her training – calm as still water – she readied herself for a fight. And luckily, she hadn’t pulled out the second smaller blade, yet. Leaving her one hidden trump card.
“I was always a girl.” she tried to sound as nonchalantly as possible.
“And a man was always aware of that.” Jaqen H’ghar replied smiling, as he approached.

“You’re one of them now!” she hissed, glaring at him, “I should’ve let you burn.”
“A man pays his debts. A man owes three.” he said calmly, once he stopped right out of her arms’ reach – making her feel on edge even more.
“Three what?” she retorted frigidly.
“The red god has his due, sweet girl, and only death may pay for life. This girl took three that were his. This girl must give three in their places. Speak the names, and a man will do the rest.” he explained, still talking in riddles.
“You want to pay your debt? Get me and my friends out of here!” she countered.
But he wouldn’t have it, “Three lives you shall have of me. No more, no less. Three, and we are done. So, a girl must ponder.” he said, “But not too long.” and turned to leave.
Bewildered at what she believed he was suggesting, Arya asked, “I could name anyone?”
“Anyone.” he confirmed, without turning back or stopping in his track. What the …?

When she awoke at dawn, she was certain, it had all just been a dream – her going to the godswood to practice and him interrupting her with his strange offer. Yet, when she saw him later in the yard, he winked at her, putting three fingers on his cheek. Seven hells.

Chapter Text

Although, she had a list full of people she wanted dead, Arya somehow was unable to name three of them. Even a whole fortnight after her strange encounter with Jaqen. She had seen the Lorathi in the yards on several occasions since, each time locking eyes with her for a flash – waiting to hear her names. But she had none. She needed advice, she then eventually decided.

And while Hot Pie wasn’t her first choice, he was the first one she had a chance to ask. During breaking their fast together in the kitchen, she then asked, which three people he would want dead, if he had the opportunity to kill anyone he wanted. And he promptly named the Mountain, the Tickler and Raff the Sweetling. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with a list.
“Thanks, Hot Pie.” she hugged him, grabbed the last piece of bread and got up, whispering, “Tell Gendry to meet me tonight.”
“Are you two plotting something?” Hot Pie asked confused.
“No. I just need to see him.”

The Mountain. The Tickler. Raff the Sweetling. All three deserved to die. For what they had done at the storehouse and for killing their friend. And most of all, they were here. Within their reach. Yet, Arya wasn’t sure, if she should waste small names like the Tickler or Raff on Jaqen. But what if the Mountain was a too big name? What if Jaqen would die? Then she would accomplish nothing, only maybe a target on her back again, once Jaqen were tortured into giving her name up. She needed his advice, before she would make her decision

Once she arrived at the heart tree, Gendry was already waiting.
“Are you alright?” he inquired.
“Yeah, no trouble with any understewards anymore.” she assured smiling, “And you?”
“Yeah, fine …” he retorted, with a slight undertone in his voice.
“What?” she snapped.
“You tell me!” his brow was furrowed, “Haven’t seen you in almost a moon’s turn and then of sudden you ask Hot Pie odd questions and want to see me.” he was piercing her with his eyes – obviously trying to read in her face, what she was up to.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” she rolled her eyes.
Gendry just snorted and asked, “So, why am I here?”
“I need a sparring partner.”
She wasn’t lying. Fighting with a sword was different than with daggers. She had tried to practice alone, but it was no use. With short blades she had to let her opponent come closer than she was used to. And it put her at a disadvantage with bigger and stronger adversaries. Meaning, literally everyone. she thought sourly. Hence Gendry – being taller and stronger than most men – were the perfect sparring partner. If she could fend him off, she could fend anyone off.

Yet, all response she got was a raised brow, and a look as if she had gone mad.
“I’m serious!” she huffed, “I need to practice.”
“I’m not fighting you.” he snorted.
“So, you hand me daggers for nothing?” she scoffed angrily.
“Certainly not to take the Mountain on.” he growled.
“You think me stupid!?”
His judging brow just wasn’t coming down.
“I’m not taking the Mountain on, you idiot!” she hissed.
“Then why’d you ask Hot Pie who you ought to kill?” he demanded.
“I’m not trying to kill the Mountain!”
“Liar.” he scoffed.
“I’m not lying!” she countered, “I just …. know someone who could.” she said in a softer voice, hoping she were right and Jaqen H’ghar could indeed kill that abomination.
“Who?” he demanded, still not appeased.
“Someone who owes me his life.”
“Who!?” Gendry snarled.
“He wants to pay his debt. Said by saving him and two others, I would’ve stolen three lives from the red god. And now I’ve to give him three in return.”
“Sounds more like you’re the one with the debts.” he snorted annoyed.
“Well, technically I am … it seems. But I only have to give the names and Jaqen will do the rest.”
“And who is that Jaqen of yours?” he demanded angrily.
“The Lorathi, from the ca—” she admitted slowly.
“For fuck’s sake!” Gendry shouted, “I told you to stay away from them—” rubbing his palms over his face.

“You can’t enjoin me to do anything!” she had enough of him treating her like a child, “You’re not my brother!”
She stormed off.
“Yeah, thank the gods, I’m not.” he called after her, “You drive me nuts!”
That made her turn back, to scowl up at him, “That’s because you suck as a brother! Robb and Jon would nev—”
“Girl, I really can’t wait to meet those guys …” he snarled, glaring back at her, “Gonna pick a bone with them about you—”
“Well, good luck then. They’ll kick your arse!” she scoffed.
“Wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you—” he retorted unafraid.
“But I am, you stupid bull!” she shouted and left.
She had her first name. Even though, naming him felt quite tempting then as well.

“A girl told her friend.” she heard, as soon as she was out of eyeshot from Gendry.
“Is that a problem?” she snorted angrily.
“A man only noticed.” the Lorathi stepped forth from the shadows.
“Quite a stretch to call eavesdropping notice!”
Jaqen H’ghar chuckled, “A girl is upset.”
“A girl has a name!”she snarled, she wouldn’t discuss Gendry with him.
“A girl is supposed to name three.” he replied.
“And a girl will!” she hissed annoyed, “After this one’s gone.”
Jaqen nodded, apparently understanding she was testing him.
“How long will it take?”
“Depends on the name. A day, a moon’s turn, a year.”
“I can’t wait a year!” she blurted shocked.
“A girl could give two more names and leave.” he suggested, “And let me do the rest.”
“Leave!? I’m a prisoner!”
“A girl’s brother is winning the war, Arya Stark.”
She froze in shock. How could he know? No one knew!
“A girl has nothing to fear from me.” Jaqen assured smiling, “The name, Arya—”
“The Mountain!” she said quickly, fearing he would say ‘Stark’ again.
She had expected to see shock and dread appear on his face at that, but Jaqen H’ghar showed no reaction at all. He just kept smiling and nodded, “And the Mountain it shall be.” before he turned and left.

Arya didn’t see him again in the following days. Worse even, the Mountain had left Harrenhal on a mission and Jaqen H’ghar hadn’t been amongst the Mountain’s men. How was he supposed to kill him now? Arya fumed and soon began to wonder, if the Lorathi had just played a game with her. She hated to be fooled. But worst of all, she had stupidly told Gendry – who knew now she had been played. Hence, her bad temper worsened by the day. And before long she caught herself snapping at Hot Pie for nothing. She stormed off blushing with shame, then.

So, when she saw Gendry in the kitchen yard the day after, she turned on her heel straightaway – unwilling to see that idiot.To stomp back to the Kingspyre Tower. But quickly stopped in her track. He was chatting and laughing with servant girls and kitchenmaids, Arya realised. Not here to see her! And she exploded.

She turned back around, seeing he had stepped away from the wall he had leaned on in between the girls, and was looking at her now. Still, she stormed right at him. Watching his face turn – from smile to frown to utter confusion – once she passed by him.
“He’s mine!” she snarled at the girls, making him choke on surprise.
Before she turned and dragged him away by the arm. Even though, this thought had accidently slipped from her lips, she was too furious to feel embarrassed, then.
“But I thought you and Hot Pie—” one of the girls teased boldly.
“What? No. Never!” Hot Pie assured shocked, side-glancing towards Jenna. While Arya stared the girl down. Fuming.

Until Gendry’s snorting with laughter made her turn back to him, “Don’t you have any hammering to do!?” she hissed.
“Um, no. Someone seemed to have tampered with my forge today.”
“Wasn’t me!” she shoved him, to get away from him and all the rest of them.
But he caught both her wrists, “I know, Weasel.” he chuckled, before he whispered, “It was me. Thought, we could do some practicing during your afternoon off.” perplexing her.
She hated, how easily he could take the wind out of her sails. Like Jon.
“Doesn’t mean I’m no longer angry with you.” she snapped.
“Same here, you were quite the pain in the neck. Still are!” his voice was serious again, once he let go of her wrists, only to intertwine his left hand fingers with her right hand ones, “Let’s go, before you start stabbing any cooks or servant girls.” Gendry whispered and led her away.

“Me?” Arya huffed, “I was perfectly sound!”
“Sound!?” he snorted, “You’d written ‘murder’ all over your face, once you charged at those girls.”
“No… I had written ‘murder’ all over my face, once I charged at you.” she shot back, “Because you were an arse.”
“So were you!” he replied.
“Then why did you come to the yard?” she scoffed.
“Hot Pie—”
“Gods, that boy’s butting in everywhere!?”
“Told me I’d need to apologise, since you’d—”
“So far I haven’t heard any!” she interrupted.
“Yeah, and you won’t get any.” he countered.
Although, they had walked off the kitchen yard holding hands, their bickering got soon worse again. And Gendry found himself with a dagger at his throat before they even reached the heart tree.
“Dead.” she hissed.
Yet, somehow this way it was easier for them to start practicing. Arya was still mad at him, and thus had no trouble to unleash that anger onto him. And since she had told him, she would have named the Mountain right after their fight, he was mad enough at her to wrench the dagger from her hand.
Before he pushed her against a tree, pointing the blade at her throat, “Dead.”
“Not so fast!” she teased, pressing the second one against his inner thigh.
“Yoren.” he laughed.
“No. Syrio Forel.”
But he quickly grabbed her wrist, trying to force her to drop the blade.
“Wait! Let me take off my dress first.” she pleaded, “Can’t get it all dirty.”

Swallowing, he let go of her and stepped back, about to turn away.
“No need for that.” she assured, “Besides two arms you won’t see any more naked skin.”
Why should he turn away for her undressing, only to see her undressed afterwards? And he had seen her in her bodice and underskirt before … Only at night, she realised. It was broad daylight now. And suddenly, her fingers trembled slightly during unlacing her dress’s top – while he watched. She saw him trying not to look and yet he did. His eyes followed her fingers’ every move, making her feel even more nervous. Gods, she missed her jerkin and trousers … if she still had them, there wouldn’t be a fuss about any of this, she thought angrily. So, when she finally stepped out of her dress’s skirt, she swiftly snatched the third blade – hidden in her boot – and charged at him again. Yet, even though he had seemed distracted by her undressing, he managed to dodge the attack.
“Think me that stupid?” he teased.
“Stupider.” she retorted, pointing the second blade at his heart, “Dead.”

And soon her missing layer of clothes seemed forgotten. Arya knew, once she suddenly was the one dead more often.
“You were holding back!” she accused him angrily.
“Well, what did you think?” he snorted amused.
He was pressing her back to his chest now, holding both her wrists crosswise in front of her, while she tried to wrench free. To get to one of the three blades scattered on the grown around them. In vain.
“How was I supposed to practice with you holding back?” she huffed.
“We’re practicing now, aren’t we?” he chuckled, angering her even more. If she had Needle, he were dead a thousand times by now.
“That’s not practicing! You’re just holding me … enjoying the scenery.”
“Not my fault you can’t wriggle free. But yes, the scenery’s nice.” he teased.
“I’m not talking about the woods, stupid!” she snapped.
“Me neither.” he retorted with a low tone in his voice that made her stomach prickle.
She could feel his breath on her neck then, causing all muscles in her arms and legs to relax and her heartbeat and breath to speed up. Feeling a blush sneak up from her chest, she turned her head to look up at him. His face was so close. Their eyes met and she couldn’t keep her lashes from fluttering – urging her to look away. To get away. But she couldn’t.

Until she suddenly felt his grip on her loosen and her wits return. Caught you! She tried to turn, to face him. And he let her, not averting his gaze.
She positioned her leg carefully between his, while she prepared to hold her weight on the other.
“Don’t make me do this.” she whispered.
His brows knit in confusion, “What?”
She nodded downwards and his puzzled frown deepened. Finally understanding, he pushed her away – just in time before her knee collided with his groin.

While she used his push to let herself fall backwards, snatching the first blade.
“Seven hells, you wicked little minx—” he blurted surprised.
“Like I said, stupider.” she smirked and moved to the next blade, “Now we’re practicing!”
And she had obviously wounded his pride then, since he charged right at her again. To prevent her from getting all the blades. Yet, once he stepped onto the one she was just grabbing, she pushed her full weight against his leg and made him topple. Whereas she snatched the blade from the ground and leapt onto him.
Although, he was on his back, both his hands ready to grab her again, she managed to point the dagger at his heart first, “Dead.”
Only he didn’t care, he grabbed her and disarmed her.
“You’re dead! You can’t—” she protested.
“Watch me!” he snarled and flipped them both over, “Now try your little trick again.” he challenged.
It was impossible, he pinned her body down with his own.
“How would you know?” she claimed, “After all, I had to tip you off.”
She tried to ignore the slight feeling of panic in her stomach.
“Yeah, won’t happen again.” he snorted.
“I beg to differ!” she countered, “And you can’t stay like this forever.”
“Longer than you might think.” he teased grinningly, “And the view’s even nicer than before …”
His eyes seemed changed somehow. Darker of a sudden, as he boldly took her body in.
Unnerving her, until she panicked for good, “I yield! Yield!” she almost shrieked.

He was off her with an instant, kneeling in front of her and blushing with shame, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you … I’m sorry.”
She didn’t reply. She only sat up and pulled her legs up against her chest, furrowing her brow. She didn’t understand what happened. It wasn’t the first time men looked at her body like that. In Harrenhal it was daily routine, and the only thing she then felt was disgust and anger. And it made her wary of men. But this was Gendry. This was different. It didn’t make her feel disgusted or angry. Yet, she couldn’t really name it, it was just odd. She knew, she someway wanted him to look at her like that – to really see her as a girl. To see her as a woman. But now that he suddenly did, she panicked for whatever reason. What was wrong with her!? She even wished her sister were here. She’d know! Or maybe not. Sansa would never find herself pinned down under a man in a playfight, stupid!
“Arya, please say something …” he pleaded.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, “Um, … I don’t know—” she got up to get her dress.

Right when Hot Pie suddenly stood there, panting. Had he been running?
“The—” he interrupted himself, seeing Arya put on her dress’s skirt and Gendry on the ground, hanging his head in shame. “What happened!?” their friend blurted, “I thought you two wouldn’t, you know …”
“We don’t!” Arya said quietly, “We just practiced with the daggers.”
She nodded at them, laying in the grass scattered around Gendry.
Hot Pie picked one up, “Since when do you have blades again?”
“Gendry made them for me.”
“Ah, and now you beat the hells out of him. Understand.” Hot Pie chuckled, “Don’t worry, man, no shame in losing against her.” he patted Gendry on the back.
“I know that.” he growled gloomy, looking up at her.
“I’m fine.” she assured, though, in her head a storm of thoughts was raging.
“Okay, great.” Hot Pie sounded somehow excited, “Now that we’re all fine, I’ve to tell you something … great news, actually. The Mountain. He’s dying!”

Chapter Text

“Rumour has it, he would’ve taken a girl to his quarters and come morning his men found him lying on the ground. Unable to move, with a dagger to his spine and his manhood cut off.” Hot Pie told them.
They were grinning at on another, each wishing they had done the deed themselves.
“So, who should we name next?” Arya smirked.
Yet, Hot Pie’s puzzled frown reminded her, he still didn’t know about Jaqen’s offer.
“Remember that question I asked you, who you’d want dead?” she gave him the short version, “Well, someone owes me a favour. And I’ve two more names to give him.”
“You know my top three.” Hot Pie smirked now himself.
But Arya was looking at Gendry already.

“You saved him. You decide.” he said quietly.
“And you helped!” she insisted, “I want to hear your list.”
“Well, everyone from the storehouse.” he suggested, “But you should probably name someone bigger. Someone important.”
“And which important people do you want dead?” she gently pushed it further.
“You know who. Cersei and Joffrey.” he said reluctantly. Before he got more determined, “But I’d rather choose Joffrey. For killing Ned Stark.” stunning her. “I owe him.” Gendry explained, “He arranged the whole thing with Yoren. To get me out of the city. Never had the chance to repay him.”
Causing Arya to swallow. He owed her father nothing. Not anymore. Not after all he had done for her. But she didn’t dare to tell him that. Not now. Not yet.

“I thought you were a bastard?” Hot Pie inquired confused.
“I am.” Gendry sighed, “But my father was King Robert.”
Hot Pie’s eyes went wide, “So, you could be king now!?”
“Huh?” Gendry stared at him bewildered and Arya snorted with laughter.
“Well, you know, with Joffrey and the others all being incest bastards.” Hot Pie stammered, blushing embarrassed.
Apparently, were Tywin’s efforts to keep that a secret entirely fruitless, Arya thought amused.
But then her laughter died down, “Hot Pie’s right! ” she stared at Gendry.
“I am?” Hot Pie questioned surprised.
“No, you idiots! The throne goes to Stannis or Renly.” Gendry retorted, his brows knitted stubbornly.
“Your childless uncles? You think those arrogant southern lords would allow a greyscaled girl to sit the throne?” Arya countered.
“Doesn’t mean I should?! Shireen’s sons can sit the damn thing.” Gendry growled, “And now leave me be! I’ve to check if that bloody apprentice managed to refuel my forge…” he stormed off, fuming.
“Imagine, you could be his queen and I could be his Hand.” Hot Pie jested happily and punched her shoulder.
“No, you idiot!”
“Why not!? ” Hot Pie asked, feeling apparently insulted, “I’m not that stupid—”
“I don’t want to be a stupid queen!” she interrupted and stormed off herself.
“Fine, your loss!” Hot Pie snorted, “But I’ll be his Hand!” sounding determined.

Time to focus on what really mattered, Arya told herself, as she ran back to the Kingspyre Tower. Joffrey would be the second name. Since Gendry was right, about time the little shit paid for murdering her father. Now, she only needed to think of a third one. Cersei? Or rather someone else? Maybe she should rid the world of both Lannister lapdogs? Or Tywin, perhaps? He clearly was the head of the snake. Maybe she should cut it off and make the rest of the Lions run around like headless chickens. It would help Robb. But was that even necessary? The old lion ranted more and more often. Calling his commanders names, while the supposed ‘green boy from the North’ beat him at his own game. And she was already helping Robb. Ever since Nymeria’s attack on the Lannister host, Arya was meddling with Tywin’s war strategies. Making the pack target his messengers and scouting parties, or hunt down his marauding troops. Robb was winning the war. Even Jaqen H’ghar said so. And perhaps she would need the third name for someone else. For a still unknown Lannister monster. Hence she decided to wait. After all, she still had time. The Mountain wasn’t dead, yet.

And as expected, Gregor Clegane dying was something Lord Tywin hadn’t even thought possible, least in such a foolish manner. The old man was furious about Clegane letting himself get killed like that. Whereas, Arya was barely able to hide her smirk, then. Wondering, why no man questioned how a simple town wench should have managed to take down the Mountain all on her own. Men, all so big and strong and yet so stupid! Even Tywin Lannister, the ever so proud descendant of Lann the Clever! He still had no clue there was a wolf hiding right under his nose, preying on him. Arya had used to get mad, once people underestimated her. But Harrenhal made her realise, that was in fact her greatest skill. That nobody ever suspected and recognised her as a threat. So it had been no surprise, when Tywin Lannister had credited her brother with Nymeria’s bold attacks. Suspecting, either Robb himself would control the pack or that he would have some wilding wargs in his army. Fool. The warg he was looking for stood right next to him. Her Stark looks even more pointed out by the grey dress they had forced her into. But it just was beyond Tywin Lannister’s imagination, that his own cupbearer could be the missing Stark girl. Even though, her slight accent had immediately told him, she was of the North. Still, he was unable to see her for what and who she truly was.

Once Lord Tywin finally dismissed her, it was almost midnight. And although she was dog-tired then, she was unable to doze off. On one hand, there was the temptation to go see the Mountain on his deathbed and on the other was Gendry. His piercing gaze stealing her sleep. Well, apparently not the only thing he was stealing. Her heart was racing and her stomach tingling just thinking of his strange look. It was haunting her. He hadn’t done anything wrong, they had been teasing each other since the kitchen yard and she had even started the whole thing about ‘the view’ and had pushed him not to hold back. It was fun. Until of a sudden she had felt as if she were scared of him. And still didn’t understand why. Within a moment, it had just been too much and she had freaked out, once she couldn’t get away from his gaze.

She wished, she had her sister with her now. And was still stunned, it was her advice she wanted and not that of Jon and Robb. Even though, they obviously were the ones with more experience on the matter. She remembered the first time she had caught Robb kissing a servant girl at the stables, he had been about thirteen back then. Arya had felt utterly betrayed at the sight. Since until then, her brothers had always agreed with her, that other girls were stupid. And when she had walked in on Jon’s first kiss at the market in winter town some while later, he hadn’t even come running after her, once she had stormed off ranting. That was the first time she had been mad at Jon. He usually was on her side, no matter what. Theon had told her then, she wouldn’t understand it until she would get her first kiss herself. She hadn’t believed him. After all, Theon had been kissing girls since she had been born. Whereas Arya had scrunched up her face in disgust, just thinking about a boy kissing her. Until she had met him with his stormy blue eyes. Now she suddenly understood. Now only thinking of Robb or Jon finding out about Gendry made her flush embarrassed. She suddenly would have secrets from them. Until she realised, it wasn’t her brothers’ reaction she feared the most. Oh gods, what will her mother say? Damn. Catelyn Tully had sent her daughter south to marry a prince and now a bastard was stealing her heart. Well, at least she could tell her Lady Mother her heart had always known who the true bastard was! Arya thought sarcastically.

But she had enough of brooding about Gendry, then. And decided to rather pay a dying man a visit at the infirmary. She could probably tell the maester, Lord Tywin would want an update on Gregor Clegane’s condition.
But instead, Jaqen H’ghar stood suddenly in front of her, “A girl is reckless.”
“I want to see for myself.” she retorted stubbornly.
And the Lorathi smiled and nodded, leading her to a room in the back. Although, the door was locked, there was a small hole in it, obviously meant to provide infectious people with food and supplies.
“How long will it take?” she whispered.
“A moon’s turn, maybe more.” he answered, shocking her. “This man is strong, a man can’t say how much time it will take.” Jaqen explained.
“But he’ll die, will he?” she asked worried.
“Yes. A man has promised this man’s life to the red god and the god will have it.” Jaqen assured.
“I can give you a second name.” Arya whispered, “Joffrey, who calls himself Baratheon, though, he is not.”
The Lorathi chuckled, “And Joffrey, who goes by the name Baratheon it shall be. And the third name?”
“I don’t know, yet.” she said, “But you will get it, once he is dead.” she nodded at the Mountain.
“As agreed.” Jaqen smiled, “A girl should have some sleep now.”

“I can’t.” she was unable to hide her frustration.
“A girl is confused about her friend, the smith.” Jaqen whispered.
“Did you ‘notice’ again?” she growled annoyed.
“If a girl likes the smith, a girl should follow.” Jaqen smiled.
And Arya was reaching for her daggers, “What did you do to him?”
“The smith is fine. A girl needs not to worry. But there is someone this girl should meet.”
She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t trust the Lorathi. But the Mountain was severely injured and probably even dying. And knowing, that whatever Jaqen was up to, it would concern Gendry – her best friend, one of her pack – made her follow him, no matter what. Over the yards to the Wailing Tower, down to her former sleeping quarters.

There, Jaqen led her to the end of the room, passing by a row of empty beds. But going by the coughing she could hear, someone was there.
And once they reached the last bed, they heard a weak voice, “Who’s there?”
“A friend.” Jaqen H’ghar replied, lighting a candle.
“And who’s this?” a haggard woman asked, studying Arya worriedly.
“A woman can trust this girl.” Jaqen assured, “This girl will help.”
Stunning Arya. Help with what!?
“A girl gets to know this woman and a girl will understand.” the Lorathi spoke.
“What has this to do with—” she asked, remembering Gendry was a wanted man, “… my friend?”
“A girl will listen and understand. This woman has not much time left.” Jaqen said, making her sit down on the bed next to the woman’s.
Arya watched him leave, before she reluctantly turned to face the woman. Swallowing, fearing what she would get to hear.

“Who are you?” Arya whispered.
“Mhaegen.” the woman replied weakly.
“I’m Weasel.” Arya said, even though, she felt somewhat guilty to lie to a dying woman. “Do you know a young smith from King’s Landing or Raventree Hall?” she asked then forthright.
“No.” Mhaegen whispered.
Making Arya frown, Did she maybe know him from before he started his apprenticeship?
“But I’m from the capital myself.” Mhaegen said after a pause.
“How did you get here?”
“I was on a ship to White Harbour. But at Saltpans it was raided by Ser Amory Lorch and his men. I came here as his captive.” the woman explained coughing. This was exhausting her.
“And why does Jaqen think I could help you, Mhaegen?” Arya questioned and handed her some water to allay the cough.
“Who’s Jaqen is?”
“The man who brought me here.” Arya explained frowning.
“How old are you, Weasel?” Mhaegen asked.
“Fourteen. Fifteen next year.”
“Then we’re almost of age.” the woman claimed, dumbfounding Arya, “I’d be turning sixteen soon.”
She looked way older. Was she delirious already or was it because she was so skinny?

“How can I help you, Mhaegen?” Arya asked.
“I’m dying, Weasel. I don’t know how much time I’ve left.” The older girl whispered, her eyes wide with fear, “Who will take care of my daughter, then? Who will protect her?”
“Your daughter?” Arya swallowed, “I’m sure, someone will take her in. There are still good people here.” she assured.
But Mhaegen shook her head, “You don’t understand.”
She removed the blanket from her shoulder, revealing a small mop of soft black hair. Arya stared thunderstruck at the petite infant and back at her mother.
“You know who her father is, don’t you?” the girl asked suddenly smiling.
Arya swallowed, still stunned, “Is she Gendry’s?”
Now it was Mhaegen, who looked puzzled, “No, don’t you see the likeness?” The likeness was the problem. “I named her after her father.” Mhaegen went on, “Barra.”
It took Arya a moment to grasp it, until it dawned on her, “Barra … like Baratheon? She’s Robert’s bastard?”
Mhaegen nodded, pleading, “No one can know. Not here!”
“No one will. Not from me. I swear. Your daughter’s secret’s safe with me.” Arya promised, assuming the young mother needed to hear this. She took her hand then, “Listen, Mhaegen, I know now why Jaqen brought me here. There’s someone you ought to meet. He’ll help.” Arya squeezed her hand, reassuring, “I’ll be back in a moment, I promise.” Mhaegen nodded, but Arya saw the anew fear in her eyes.

So, she darted over the yards to the smithy as fast as she could, climbed up to the window and snuck in to Gendry’s pallet, placing a hand over his mouth, causing his eyes to fly open.
“You need to come.” Arya whispered frantically.
“Why?” he asked alarmed, seeing her wide eyes.
“No time to explain. You need to come.” she handed him his shirt and trousers, “I’ll wait outside. Hurry!”
As soon as he had climbed down himself, she grabbed his hand and wanted to run. But he didn’t move and pulled her back, forcing her her face him again.
“What’s wrong, Arya?” he whispered worried, studying her face.
“You need to come! There’s someone you need to meet.” she urged, dragging him forward.
“Now?” he questioned confused.
“I swear, if you don’t move your stupid arse now, I’ll hit you.” she threatened, “Run! Now!” and finally he did as told, letting her lead the way.

In the yard outside the Wailing Tower, Arya stopped and turned to face him, “Promise me, not to freak out in there.”
“How can I promise that, if I don’t know who’s in there?” he asked frowning.
“Promise me! Or I’ll start hitting you.” she threatened again, “It’s a girl. Two actually. And they need you. So be nice!”
“Alright, I promise.” he murmured reluctantly, his frown deepening.

Unfortunately though, he couldn’t keep it. As Arya had feared, he lost it.
“No! No! I can’t do it.” Gendry stumbled backwards from the bed, panicking, “I can’t! I’m sorry.”
Arya ran after him, to find him pacing back and forth outside the Tower, his palm covering his mouth.
“You promised not to freak out!” she charged at him, shoving him angrily.
“Then you should’ve told me you want me to take in a baby first!” he countered, both panic and fury in his voice now, “You can’t make me do this! You can’t ask this of me.” he pleaded with her.
“Yes, I can!” Arya insisted, cupping his face, “Because she’s your sister. And there’s no one else.”
“No. No. How’d I do that? Here? In this place? I can’t!” he obviously wasn’t just talking to her.
“You can and you will!” Arya demanded, “I’ll help you. And so will Hot Pie, I’m sure.”
He swallowed, “No! Arya, please, you can ask anything of me … but not this!” His eyes were wide in panic, “We’re in Harrenhal. This is no place for anyone, and least for a baby!”
“Exactly. That’s why Barra needs you. You can protect her! Better than anyone else here.” Arya assured, “And we won’t be here forever. We can take her to my family, if you don’t want to raise her. She’ll be safe there. I promise. It’s just for now, as long we’re here—”
But Gendry shook his head, as if unable to stop, “I can’t! I just can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” she heard his voice break and saw tears well up in his eyes, before he broke away from her and stormed off. Fuck.

Heavy-heartedly, Arya returned to Mhaegen, who was sobbing in despair, “He won’t take her, will he?”
Arya had to fight back her own tears, when she sat down next to her, grasping her hand.
“Don’t worry, Mhaegen. He’ll come around. He’s just stubborn and a bit stupid sometimes.” Arya said, assuring the young mother as much as herself.
“How can you be so sure?” the young mother coughed.
Because I’ll make his life the seventh hell, if he doesn’t! Arya thought to herself.
Yet said, “Because I know him. He’s a good man. Not like Robert. At all. He takes care of people. He protected me when no one else did. When no one else could. I would be dead, if it weren’t for him. He just needs a bit time to think about it. That’s all.”
“I don’t have time, Weasel!”
“Don’t worry, Mhaegen. I’ll be here with you as often as I can. And I’ll make him change his mind. I promise.” she said, intent to keep it. To hells with Tywin Lannister. And Gendry, if he doesn’t come around.

He didn’t, though. And Arya didn’t dare to seek him out. Fearing, she would push him into the wrong direction. Thus, instead she visited Mhaegen the following days whenever she could, and even spent the nights there. To take care of her and Barra, making sure they were not alone, while they waited for him to change his mind.

And Mhaegen eventually even told her, how she had met Robert. How scared she would have been in Littlefinger’s brothel, before the king had chosen her. How gentle he would have been with her, telling her she would remind him of his lost love. Arya instantly felt a lump in her throat at that. Barra could be her daughter … if her father hadn’t been the only man Robert Baratheon had ever respected. And lastly Mhaegen even told Arya, it were the Hand of the King, who had arranged their escape from the capital after Robert’s death. Just like with Gendry. Apparently, had her father tried to get Robert’s bastards north, out of the Lannisters’ reach. And Mhaegen even claimed, he would have intended to have Barra raised at Winterfell. Yet, Arya had no reason to doubt her, knowing her father would have done exactly that.

So, when Mhaegen grew more and more restless, fearing for Barra, Arya knew what to do.
“I’ll take her!” she blurted eventually and Mhaegen’s eyes flew open in surprise.
Even though, she was scared like hells, Arya knew there was no other way. No other way to give Gendry the time he needed.
“If you’ll allow it, of course.” Arya added sheepishly, assuming, Mhaegen would have preferred someone older, more experienced.
Yet, Mhaegen smiled relieved and started crying, “Thank you, Weasel.”
The older girl grasped her hand and squeezed it weakly, making Arya’s tear well up, too.
And she decided to do this right, “Mhaegen, before you entrust your daughter into my care, I want you to know my true name.”
The young mother’s eyes widened in panic.

So, Arya quickly went on and whispered, “My name’s Arya. Arya Stark of Winterfell.” speaking her full name out, for the first time in almost a year.
“The Hand—” Mhaegen stammered surprised.
“… was my father.” Arya confirmed, tears running down her cheeks now.
“Why would you do this, m’lady?”
“Gendry. I owe him my life. And I won’t abandon his family to their fate.” she explained. But that wasn’t all the truth and she didn’t want to lie to the dying girl anymore, “And I … he means a lot to me.”
Mhaegen seemed to understand. She smiled at her and squeezed her hand again, slightly stronger now.
“So, will you allow me to take Barra in?” Arya asked the older girl nervously.
“Yes, m’lady. Gladly.”
“I swear, I’ll do anything in my power to keep her safe.” Arya assured, “I’ll guard her with my own life.”
“Thank you, m’lady.” Mhaegen snivelled, her eyes now focussed on Barra in her arms.

And then out of the blue Jaqen H’ghar was there again.
“A woman drinks this when she is ready, and will leave this world in peace.” he handed Mhaegen a small vial.
“Thank you.” Mhaegen whispered and kissed her daughter’s forehead. Kissed her goodbye, “Take her, m’lady! Take care of my Barra.” she snivelled and let Arya pick the infant up.
“I will.” she promised again.
Before Mhaegen drank from the vial, not once averting her gaze from Barra until she closed her eyes forever.
“Thank you, Jaqen.” Arya whispered, fighting her own tears and the lump in her throat.
The Lorathi only bowed to her and left.

Arya looked down at the girl in her arm, little more than a year old. What was she supposed to do now? Swallowing and wiping her tears away, Arya told herself, if Mhaegen had managed, so could she. Had to.
“I’m sorry, little one.” she whispered eventually, “But we’ve to go now.” She squeezed Mhaegen’s hand for one last time and carried Barra away, “I bet you’re hungry. So, let’s see what we can find for you in the kitchen, hmm?”

Once she walked into the kitchen, Hot Pie’s jaw dropped, staring incredulously at Barra.
“She looks like him, does she?” Arya smiled, giving Hot Pie the short version of what had happened.
“So, for a change it wasn’t you, making him livid these past few days.” her friend chuckled.
“Hot Pie, will you help me? I mean, taking care of her as long as we’re here?”
“Sure. She’s his sister, means she’s our friend, right?” he assured, already making faces to make Barra giggle.
Arya had to wipe tears of relief from her cheeks, while they fed her some warm milk and soaked bread. At least she wouldn’t be all alone.

Though, not knowing what to do next, Arya took Barra to the godswood afterwards.
“Maybe you’ll get to meet my brother Bran there. I guess that makes him your uncle now, hmm?”
But of course, they weren’t lucky. Still, Arya sat down, leant against the trunk to tell the tree what had happened, while Barra fell asleep in her arms. Mhaegen had told her which lullabies to sing to soothe her, but apparently ranting about her stupid big brother seemed to work just as fine.
“Don’t you worry, Barra! Your brother’s an idiot, but he’ll come around. Eventually. And until then, you’re my little wolf pup.” Arya told the infant, promising, “And if he’s too stupid to realise what a beautiful little creature you are, then I’ll just raise you on my own. Then you get to see Winterfell and we can go visit your uncle Jon at the Wall. He’ll ruffle both our hair then and before long, he’ll give you a Needle, too.”

Even when Barra was already sound asleep, Arya kept on telling her things that would await her in the North. How Theon would tell her every bawdy joke there is. How Robb would teach her arm wrestling and how to cheat at it. How Sansa and their Lady Mother would make her thousands of pretty dresses – no matter if she asked for them or not. How Bran would teach her to climb even the tallest trees. And how Rickon would be the happiest of all of them to meet her – to finally have someone to pass his clothes on. Over all this, Arya eventually soothed herself to sleep.

Until she suddenly heard Gendry whispering, “Arya, wake up!” feeling his fingers trace along her face.
“Hmm?” she asked drowsily.
For a moment she forgot what had happened and snuggled into him. Until she felt the sleeping form in her arm. Remembering, she instantly pulled Barra closer and pushed herself away from him.
“Seven hells! What do you want!?” she demanded angrily, “If you’re here to talk me out of this … to tell me, I were a damn fool and still a child myself unable to raise her, you can fuck off right again! Mhaegen was my age when she had her, and now she entrusted her daughter to my care. So, you can’t take her away from me … I’ll fight you if you try! And it won’t be like sparring … I’ll kill you, if I have to … are we understood!?”
Why hadn’t he interrupted her? Why wasn’t he snorting and yelling? She frowned confused.
He was just studying her in silence, before he said, “Understood.” his voice low, making her stomach prickle again.
So, when his eyes wandered down to her chest, she swallowed. For a moment she thought, he would get that strange look again. But it wasn’t her body he was looking at. And while his fingers carefully caressed the small mop of black hair, he didn’t even seem to notice his hand brushed over her bosom for a moment. She did. Her heart skipped a beat then and went wild afterwards.
“Thank you, Arya.” he whispered eventually and looked up at her again, “I’m in, if you let me.” Finally.
“Of course, you stupid bull—” she rolled her eyes.
And was thunderstruck, once a mere flash later his lips were on hers. Sparking a firework of tingling warmth all over her body.

Chapter Text

There were moments before in his life, when he had felt the whole world weighing down onto his shoulders – like in that storehouse or when his mother had died. Yet, this was different. This was worse. Once she had led him down into those sleeping quarters, he had expected anything. Anyone. But not that. The woman, Mhaegen, had stared at him in awe. And his stomach had warned him instantly. But he hadn’t listened. He had promised her. Idiot! He should have run right then. Before that blanket had even come down from the woman’s shoulders, crushing his world. Why would she do this to him?

He would do anything for her. But this!? How could she ambush him like that? Asking this of him? He knew nothing about raising a child, least in a place like this. Gendry’s head was spinning, unable to ever erase the little mop of black hair from his memory. It tightened his chest, choked the air from his lungs and seemed to crush his heart. His ears were ringing. He felt sick to the core. And ran. Away from her and her inexorable demanding. But he didn’t get far. Just out of her sight. To retch and vomit in one of the many dark corners Harrenhal provided. And eventually Gendry found himself at the godswood. Screaming and cursing his father, he bloodied his fists at some tree. Before he sank down onto his knees, sobbing. How could she do this to him?

The days that followed, Gendry spent hammering like never before. Scaring off the younger apprentices and even hissing at Lucan, who told him to calm down. He couldn’t. Working from dawn to dusk was the only way to keep that haunting black mop in his mind’s eye at bay.
Only Hot Pie coming by with their food, brought some short relief.
He spotted Gendry’s blood-encrusted knuckles instantly and furrowed his brow, “What happened?”
“Hit a tree.” he growled.
“Arya again?” Hot Pie asked, looking at him knowingly.
But Gendry just huffed, unable to speak his misery out loud and Hot Pie nodded, accepting his silence without taking any offense – unlike the men at the forge. It was astonishing, how well the younger lad knew him by now.
And once his friend was about to leave again, Gendry burst out, "Thank you."
“For what?” Hot Pie asked confused.
“Being here.”
“Sure.” Hot Pie patted his back and walked off.

However, all his efforts to forget what had happened, or more like what was about to happen were in vain. Although, dog-tired by nightfall, falling asleep was getting harder every night. He would wake from nightmares, restless and panting in cold sweat more and more often. Until one night, after yet another nightmare, he couldn’t take it anymore. Was this what his life was going to be now? Him working himself into an early grave? He could just as well take the shortcut and hang himself, he thought and got up, washing the cold sweat off his skin before he dressed.

Hanging his head, he finally walked back to the Wailing Tower, sneaking in to the servants’ sleeping quarters. Only to find Mhaegen’s bed empty. Like the time before, he stumbled backwards, feeling sick. Bumping into one of the other beds, he startled the woman sleeping in it.
"The sick woman? The child?” he asked, his voice breaking.
She blinked confused before she answered, “She died.”
“And the little one!?” he asked upset, a little too harsh.
“The girl …” the woman stammered, obviously scared, “She … she took the child.”
“What girl!?” he demanded.
“The one taking care of them.” the woman replied, making his eyes go wide. Gods, could it be …?
Hope flooded over him and he ran.

At the entrance to the godswood he stopped. Panting and fearing, his hope to find her here were in vain. Or worse, that it wouldn’t have been her who took the child. Hence, he tried to prepare himself for the worst as he slowly walked towards the heart tree. Yet, once it finally came into view, his heart leaped into his throat. For a moment he stared stunned at the sight in front of him. Dreamlike illuminated by the silvery moon in the sky, he found a sleeping Arya curled up below the heart tree, holding his baby sister close to her chest. How could he have been so stupid?

Yes, she was a fucking pain in the arse. But she was gorgeous. And not only on the outside. She undeniably was the most beautiful person he had ever met. Especially now, once she had done what he couldn’t. What he hadn’t dared! For him, he knew. And he loved her for it. No, not only for this. For so much more. But for this he'd love her forever! He carefully stepped closer and lay down next to them, watching both girls sleep – making him finally feel at peace again. This could work, he thought and decided to wake her; prepared for her ranting.

Still, her protectiveness stunned him, but what else had he expected. That was just who she was. Fierce and strong and wild. And he knew better than to think she wouldn’t mean it. She would kill anyone, who tried to take Barra away from her – leaving no room for doubt, she could and would raise his baby sister on her own. If anyone would find a way to do so, it was her. So, how could he have been so afraid of taking Barra in – when he had her backing him?

He just couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her, then. And nothing in his life had ever felt so good. So right. Well, until he realised she wasn’t kissing him back. Fuck. He yanked back, fearing he had overstepped her boundaries again. And was about to stammer his apologies, when he saw the look of utter surprise on her face. She wasn’t afraid, she was stunned.
“What was that?” she whispered, staring at him.
“Um, if I’ve to explain, I obviously didn’t do it right.” he teased sheepishly and felt his ears redden.
“Why'd you do that?” she frowned.
“Because you just saved my life.” he whispered.
She blinked confused, before she looked down at Barra and back at him, “You’re welcome, you idiot.”
She was grinning now, making him cup her face and try again. Slower and more careful now, and this time she kissed him back. So right.

Until Barra stirred between them, making them break apart. Yet, he wasn’t sorry. He would have plenty of time to kiss her now, he thought. So, when one set of stormy blue eyes met the other it was all up with him. They both stared at one another in awe.
“She’s gonna be a true heartbreaker.” Arya chuckled amused.
“She already is.” he breathed, unable to avert his gaze and Barra tried to reach his face. “Can I hold her?”
“You don’t have to ask, she is your sister, stupid!” Arya teased and Barra crawled from her arms onto his chest, studying him closely and then looked back at Arya. “Yes, that’s your idiot brother I’ve told you about.” Arya chuckled and Barra giggled in response.

His baby sister turned out to easier to handle than he and his two friends had expected. They had feared she would cry a lot, missing her mother. But when she did, it was mostly just quiet whimpering. The infant was rather little for her age, even the three of them had been able to note that. Small wonder, given how long she and Mhaegen must have lived of kitchen scraps. Yet, in spite of her tiny size and young age, Barra proved an impressive survival instinct, as if she already understood she needed to keep her head down to live through Harrenhal; it made Gendry almost burst with pride.

Nevertheless, Arya wouldn’t leave anything to chance with the child. She had found two dogs to watch over Barra at any time. And ‘trained’ them to attack and raise alarm, if anyone else but the three of them would come near her. And so they quickly developed a certain daily routine. Barra spent her days mostly with Arya, since she had a small room to hide her and the dogs, for the time Tywin Lannister held his war councils. Or she took Barra to Hot Pie when he had time to watch her. And her time off, Arya spent now mostly with Barra at the forge, making it harder for him to focus on his work – since all he could think of then was holding and kissing his girls.

And Barra indeed turned out a heartbreaker. The maids flocked around her like mother hens, whenever they saw her. A toddler had become a rare sight in Harrenhal, and seemed to remind everyone of better times now. So, it wasn’t before long that Jenna offered her help as well. At first, Gendry and Arya had objected, even though Hot Pie vouched for his friend. Yet, when Barra on some rare occasion cried, disturbing Lord Tywin’s war council, Arya was forced to leave her with Jenna – on the condition that she stayed in the kitchens, where Hot Pie could have an eye on them. Though, of course Arya still felt the need to threaten Jenna, to not betray their trust, if she cared even the slightest for her life. But the girl proved true to her word and Barra even seemed to like her. And unlike Hot Pie or Gendry, Jenna could pose as a servant girl and sneak into the Kingspyre Tower at any time – to pick Barra up in Arya’s room or return her there without raising any suspicion. So, both Arya and Gendry agreed eventually to accept Jenna’s help regularly – making Hot Pie beam with joy.

In the evenings, though, Gendry took over. Picking Barra up in the kitchen yard, and Arya joined them in the godswood whenever she could. The only place, where they could enjoy some undisturbed moments together – pretending they weren’t prisoners in one of the most dreadful places in all of Westeros. To play with Barra and the dogs once the little one was awake. Or to practice with the daggers for some time, while she was asleep. Though, that was becoming quite the challenge, and not because they both could predict each other’s next moves by now. Whenever Gendry found Arya pressed against him, he had to fight his own body almost as much as her. She wasn’t ready, he had to remind himself, then. He didn’t want to scare her off again. And it wasn’t like he wanted to get her with child, least of all in Harrenhal. He knew, he couldn’t give in. No matter, if she eventually would want it. And no matter how well they managed with Barra now.

And they really did. Gendry knew that after about two moon’s turns, once he had gone to pick Barra up and Hot Pie had told him, Arya were already in the godswood with her. As soon as she saw him, she walked towards him with the little one on her hand, hanging her head.
“We’re in trouble.” Arya growled sheepishly.
“What do you mean!?” he asked alarmed.
“Barra, who am I?” she asked the little one.
And his baby sister grinned and hugged her leg, “Mummy!” making his jaw drop.
“I don’t know where she got it from.” Arya said, looking pained, “I’m sorry.”
He picked Barra up and kissed her forehead, making her giggle, “Seems, we underestimated you a bit, huh?” he teased, before he kissed Arya on her forehead, too. “I don’t mind if she calls you that.” he assured, “Unless, you do …” fearing not to hear the answer he silently hoped for.
“But what about Mhaegen?” Arya asked, guilt written all over her face.
”We can tell her later, when she’s older, can’t we?” Gendry appeased.
Making Arya nod, still not entirely convinced.
“So, you little traitor here, have you no shame?” he smiled at Barra again, “Running around, calling some random northern lass mummy, huh? I’m your relative by blood, how about you show some loyalty and call me daddy first?” he teased, playing the offended. It worked.
Arya laughed, “You’re not daddy, you’re stupid.” she grinned at Barra, “Right, that’s stupid?” pointing at him.
The little one bubbled over with laughter and actually tried to say it, “Doo-py.”
“Seriously? Already conspiring against me?” he snorted amused and countered, “Well, little one, then I’ve some news for you! That one’s not mummy, that’s pain-in-the-arse.”
Earning himself a playful punch from Arya and another from Barra, imitating her. They were doing great.

“Arya, I don’t want her to be a bastard.” Gendry whispered later, once his sister had dozed off, “When we tell her about Mhaegen, can’t we just leave out the part that she’s my sister?”
“Sure.” Arya whispered, about to fall asleep herself.
And from then on the sottish dead fucker was out of the picture, and he had a daughter.

Though, naturally his little happiness didn’t last long. What had he expected!? Things just had to go south again. As they always did! Someone just had to screw him over, as soon as he felt somewhat content in his life. Only he hadn’t thought it could be her. Not after all she had done for him and Barra.

It all began a few days later, with Tywin and his host leaving Harrenhal, making Ser Amory Lorch the holdfast’s new castellan. Who didn’t trust some stranger as his cupbearer, and thus dismissed Arya to work as a simple servant girl again. A smart choice, considering their history with the portly knight. Yet, Arya used the opportunity to disappear from the scene, before anyone even had the chance to assign her to some new monster. And the fool he was, Gendry believed she would do it mainly for Barra.

Until he heard the other men at the forge talk, about how the Mountain’s men – now led by Polliver – had been attacked by a giant wolf pack on their latest raid. The wolves would have found them in a village they were marauding, and would have literally besieged them there for days. Plucking the Mountain’s men one by one. Not even half of them would have returned, and some only badly wounded. It made Gendry wonder, if Arya might have anything to do with it. Could she control an entire pack? One of that size? Over such distance? The thought troubled him.

And then the returned Mountain’s men started dying as well. First, the four treated at the infirmary, amongst them Polliver and Raff the Sweetling. Rumour had it, their throats were cut the night after their return. Making people whisper about the ghost of Harrenhal again, claiming it would come for all the Mountain’s men now. But Gendry knew, that was her. For Needle and for Lommy. And he waited for her to tell him. But she never said a word. Instead, some days later Hot Pie told him the Tickler would have been found dead, too. Stabbed. And even he began to suspect her then, knowing Jaqen had only offered her three names. Still, Arya said no word and it drove Gendry mad. As if she knew, he thought it reckless, running around alone in Harrenhal slitting people’s throats.

But she wasn’t done, yet. It wasn’t just enough for her to kill the Mountain’s men. The evening after Gregor Clegane finally passed away, she came to him and Barra in the godswood. Asking for his help, to break those Northerners free, the Bloody Mummers had captured some days ago.
“And how do we do that?” he growled, fighting the anger boiling up inside of him.
“Lorch sent them down to the dungeon. The one under the Widow’s Tower. That’s just one big cell. You could smash the door open with your hammer—” she suggested.
“While the guards make bets on how many swings it’ll take me, maybe?” he scoffed.
“No, we’d need to kill the guards.”
“And how’re we supposed to do that? Just you and I?” Gendry glared at her infuriated, “You think they’d guard a hundred men with only two or three?”
“We’ve to try!” she pleaded.
“No, we don’t.” he spat, “We have to take care of Barra!”

“Don’t you get it? This is for her!” Arya hissed, “There are barely hundred Lannister men left. With the Northerners we could take Harrenhal and leave.”
“You forgot the Bloody Mummers in your little equation.” he looked down at her, raising his brow judgingly.
“That’s why it has to be a surprise attack.” she countered, unwilling to see reason.
“No, Arya, you listen to me closely now!” he growled, piercing her eyes with his own, “I won’t wager my life or hers” he pointed at Barra’s sleeping form on the ground, “for your imbecile thirst of vengeance.”
“It’s not for revenge," she snarled, tears welling up in her eyes, “you stupid mulehead!”
“I don’t care!” he spat, causing her to slap him and turn to leave.
Yet, he seized her arm and wrenched her back around, “No, you don’t get to leave here! Not before you swear to me, you won’t free those prisoners on your own!” he hissed.
“Well, then you’ll be waiting till the cows come home!” she hissed back, unimpressed.
“Swear it!” he roared, waking Barra. Fuck. His temper cooled down instantly, “Arya, she needs you!” he pleaded, “I need you.” he let go of her arm.
“Fine.” she gave in, sighing, “I swear.” and lay down next to Barra to soothe her back to sleep.

Yet, mere hours later Gendry had to realise she outwitted him, once he awoke to the dogs snarling and distant battle noises. He didn’t need any further explanation, then. Neither for her absence, nor the screams suddenly coming from all sides outside the godswood. Arya had apparently chosen the Northerners over them. Hence, Gendry chose Barra’s safety over hers now. He swiftly grabbed his still sleeping sister and disappeared with her and the dogs under some brushes. To wait there until the morning, when hopefully the fighting were over. But of course, that only gave him all the time in the world to worry about her. And Hot Pie. What the hells had gotten into her? Why'd she go behind his back like this? She obviously succeeded in freeing the prisoners. Or at least some of them. But did she make it out alive? Was she safe? Injured? Was she amongst the fighting? Or was she trying to get to them? Or to Hot Pie? He should be safe in the kitchens, shouldn’t he? Unless, maybe some soldiers would try to harm Jenna … Please, Hot Pie, don’t be a stupid hero! Gods, just let him and Jenna be safe. WHERE THE FUCK WAS SHE!? Gendry watched the dogs for a while, trying to figure out, if she maybe were warging them. But he couldn’t tell. They only listened closely to the noises in the distance. Hopefully, she wasn’t warging them. She needed to watch out. To stay alive. Unharmed. To get back to them. To him. Gendry was worried sick. He’d kill her, if she’d make it out alive! he even cursed.

But only later the following day, Hot Pie let him in on what seemingly happened that night. Since he didn’t even get a glimpse of her. Apparently, had Arya waited until he had dozed off with Barra in his arm, and had then snuck away to make her damn weasel soup. Together with that bloody Lorathi and his two atrocious companions.

And before nightfall, Roose Bolton took over at Harrenhal. Honouring her – now apparently going by the name Nan – by appointing her his cupbearer. That girl truly had a gift to always end up at the centre of the storm! Gendry thought sullenly.

Though, others were not that lucky. Lord Bolton had several household folk executed. Guilty of nothing else, but serving the Lannisters after Lady Whent had left them behind, once she had fled Harrenhal. Master Lucan was one of them. Causing Gendry to clench his fists, barely able to hide his fury, whenever the spiked heads over the gatehouse came into his view. This was her doing, he thought spiteful. Just like the poor women, who had been put into stocks for any man to use. Their only crime had been to have lain with Lannister men – and just no one cared, if they had done so freely.

And there at the stocks, he saw her again. After three days. Days Barra had spent crying for her mummy.
He stepped next to her and scoffed, “Admiring your work?” he was unable to hide his spitefulness.
“It wasn’t me who put them there!” she hissed defensively, but he could see the guilt in her eyes.
Still, he was unbearably mad at her and wanted to get back at her, growling, “Yes, you did! You and your weasel soup.”
“I didn’t mean to—” she tried.
“Doesn’t matter what you meant!” he hissed.
“I didn’t think—” she pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s the problem, you didn’t think!” he snarled, “Not of me, not of Hot Pie and not of the little girl who calls you mummy!” She started trembling at that, but he went on, “Were you really that foolish to believe, only Lannisters would've monsters in their army, huh?” Her remorseful look confirmed his suspicion, “Gods, Arya, how can someone so smart be so blind and stupid?”
“I had to do something!” she wiped at her eyes, her voice weak, “I had to get them out. They’re my people—”
“No! Barra, me and Hot Pie, we’re your people, your responsibility!” he said unyielding.
“But you’re not my only responsibility!” she countered, trying to fight back her tears, “I had to help him! He’s my broth—”
“Oh, please… you didn’t do this for your brother! He isn’t even here, is he!?” he interrupted her angrily.
“You don’t understand.” her tears were running down now, “I can’t lose him, like father, like …” at that she ran, straight to the godswood.

By the time he got there, she was sitting in front of the heart tree, her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.
“Oh, come on, Arya, you can’t do this … running away every time we fight.” he said, sitting down beside her.
“You just don’t get it, do you?! I … I’m …” she replied, averting her face.
“Yes, I do! You’re sorry—” he retorted.
“No! ” she declared, “I mean, I had to get the men out. For Robb. They’re his—”
“Not this again—” he interrupted.
Only to get interrupted by her, “Because … I’m A—”
“You know what, I don’t care.” he scoffed fuming, and got up to leave.
But she grasped his hand, looking up at him, tears still running down her cheek, “Arya, of House … ” His head was spinning, before she even finished her sentence, “Stark of Winterfell.”
He only stared at her. Shocked, disappointed and hurt.
So, she went on, “And my brother’s Robb Stark. King in the North. I had to help him … ”
He could swear, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces while she spoke.

“Seven hells, Arya!” he burst out, when he finally found his voice again. He felt almost as sick as once she had ambushed him with Barra. Breathing heavily, he stammered, “You’re … a highborn … a lady.”
“No. I mean, yes. But I’m not a lady. My mother is and my sister … was.” her voice broke and she started shaking.
“Was?” he asked careful, slowly understanding what was going on with her lately.
“He killed her! Theon killed her. And my baby brothers …” she sobbed, “How could he do this? He was like our brother. How could he kill them? Rickon was not even nine … I’m sorry, Gendry. I am. But I had to try help Robb. I can’t lose him, too.” Fuck.

Gendry sat down beside her again, pulling her into his lap. He hugged her tightly and caressed her back, letting her sob, “I should’ve been there … If I had just used one of those stupid crows, Lommy would still be alive and I would’ve been home to protect them …”
“What happened?” he asked, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him, they never would have found Barra if they hadn't been captured.
“Theon, he took Winterfell with the Ironborn … I didn’t believe it when I first heard it. I thought it was a ruse, to make the Lannisters think us weakened.” she snivelled, “I never thought he could actually do it … betray us like that! Robb was winning the war. Never lost a battle. Not once. And I was intercepting any Lannister messenger and scout I could get hold of. But still we’re losing now, and I just don’t know why. We don’t even have a home to return to now …”
“You’ll get it back! The war isn’t over, yet. And I’m sure Bran told Robb you’re alive, here in the Riverlands. So he’ll keep fighting and looking for you.” Gendry tried to soothe her, “And maybe this’s a good time to reveal yourself to the Northerners now, huh? They could escort you to him within no time.”
“No! You were right. Not only Lannisters have monsters. Bolton’s one! The orders he gives, Robb would never approve them.” she hissed, her anger apparently winning the upper hand again, "We can't trust him … or any of his men!"

“Then what’re we going to do?” Gendry asked.
“Now we’re leaving!” she snarled determined, making him pull back to face her.
“No, Arya! You can’t go on being reckless like that. You’re mourning, you’re not in the right mind—”
“I’m doing nothing else but mourning since King’s Landing! My friends there. Father. Yoren. Lommy. Mhaegen. And now my siblings and even my home! I’m done sitting around here, waiting for someone to kill Robb or you or Barra and Hot Pie next. We’re leaving! All of us.”
“Arya—”
“Stop belittling me, Gendry!” she warned and claimed, “I’m preparing for over two moon’s turns now.” She looked up into the tree crown, making his eyes follow her gaze. “People look rarely up over their heads.” she whispered, causing him to frown. “Don’t you see?”
“See what!?” he asked staring into the treetop.
“Blankets. Hooded cloaks. Cords. Wineskins. A kettle. Food. Arrows. Bows. Knives. Dirk. Chainmail. Padded jacks. Shirts. Trousers. Needle. And two swords.” she recited.
“I don’t see a thing.” he looked back at her, now kneeling on his thighs, looking down at him.
“That’s because I’m amazing at hiding.” she claimed.
“How did you get all those things?”
“Stealing. A bit here, bit there. Though, the chaos after the weasel soup provided most of the arming.” she explained.

“Barra and I spent quite some nights under this tree.” he frowned.
“Yeah. And either your survival instincts got a bit rusty lately … or you rely too much on those dogs now.” she teased, bending down to kiss him.
But he pulled away heavy-heartedly, “We shouldn’t, my lady.”
“Don’t call me that!” she hissed.
“But you are a lady.” he objected pained.
“I don’t care!” she scoffed.
“But I do.” he countered.
“That’s because you’re stupid!” she huffed. But him not teasing back made her realise, “You’re leaving me!?” she breathed shocked.
He couldn’t look her in the eyes, feeling the lump in his throat grow, “How about we save that talk for once we actually managed to get out of here?”
“Then kiss me!” she demanded, though, it clearly was more pleading.
“I’d rather not.” he retorted, his heart sinking.
“Kiss me! Or we’ll have this talk right now.” she threatened, and looked absolutely gorgeous at it.
Gendry sighed, "Alright, then.” and pulled her body tightly against his own.

Chapter Text

Within two days Sansa had held Robb’s response to her messages in her hands. “Understood.” had been the only word all three ravens had carried home, assuring her the king in the North had gotten all three of them.

A sennight later, Robb had sent two more ravens, “Aly to intercept Horseface.” and, “Bear hunting underfoot.” Telling her, he would have tasked Alysane Mormont with finding Arya. This was good, more than good. Aly, her daughter and her younger sister Lyra had visited Winterfell three years ago. And Arya had been overjoyed to meet these young women, back then. They had sparred and even gone hunting together. Just the four of them. Their Lady Mother naturally hadn’t liked it, but their father had assured, their daughter were safe with the young She-bears. As safe as one can be, he had said, then. And they had returned Arya home safely, though, fiercer and more wilful than ever. They can do it again. They’d find her! All three Stark siblings had believed, and Robb probably too.

Still, Bran had been eager to repeat the greenseeing incident. Every nightfall when they sat at the heart tree, he had tried to reach out to Arya again. Thinking her name. Saying it out loud. Whispering it, and even shouting it. In vain. Even though, Sansa hoped and wished for her younger brother to have another vision of Arya as well, it had soon worried her, how frustrated and disappointed in himself Bran was becoming for not ’seeing’ her again. Sansa had reminded him, Arya had been at a heart tree last time, and there wouldn’t be many left in the Riverlands. Telling him, he probably would have to wait until Arya crossed the Neck before he could see her again. And he had nodded, recognising she most likely were right. But still, Sansa could see him pressuring himself, trying to force himself into having another greensight vision of their sister.

Only the arrival of Meera and Jojen Reed about a fortnight later managed to settle Bran somewhat. Sansa was relieved to see her younger brother’s mood finally lifted. And neither of the Reeds seemed to mind to spend time with him, no matter his young age. Sansa herself thought Jojen a bit strange. He was of age with her, but she hardly dared to talk to him – he often seemed sullen and deep in thought. Yet, Meera was quite cheerful, she reminded Sansa a lot of Arya. Smart and kind and also a skilled fighter. This’s what Arya will be in a few years, Sansa thought on more than one occasion, and began to enjoy the young woman’s company just as much as her younger brothers. Bran and Rickon soon sparred every morning with Meera. It had seemed quite a challenge for them in the beginning, even though, Bran was a skilled fighter himself by now. But Meera fought with net and frog spear, a fighting style neither of them were used to. And they had to admit, without Syrio Forel’s water dancing lessons, they would have barely stood a chance against the quick crannogmen woman. Even their dancing master himself seemed quite impressed and sparred with Meera.

Hence, both Reeds quickly became close confidants to the three Stark siblings. But that was no surprise for Sansa. They didn't know much about the Reed family, since their father had barely spoken of them. But whenever he had, he had never failed to call Howland Reed his most loyal bannerman. And his children seemed to prove to be just the same. However, what astonished Sansa eventually, were the secret side-glances Bran soon cast at Meera. It made her wonder, if her brother were aware of his more-than-friendly feelings towards the young woman. Probably not, Sansa thought. And she didn’t want spell it out for him, didn’t want to embarrass him or get his hopes up. After all, Meera was of age with Robb and Jon. But at least it proved Bran’s heart was just as smart as his mind – an excellent judge of character.

Since Meera was indeed wonderful. She provided them with stories about their father and his siblings from before Robert’s Rebellion, tales they had never heard before. And even offered Sansa to spar with her in the godswood, to test how far she had improved her fighting skills during the past few moon’s turns – without embarrassing herself in front of everyone. Sansa was eager to learn from the older girl, and it delighted her to think how surprised Arya would be to see her sparring with the crannogmen woman. She could send word from Greywater Watch any time now, Sansa thought. Certain, her sister would seek out Howland Reed as soon as she would reach the Neck.

But instead of their sister, Rodrik Cassel came ridden through the South Gate about three fortnights after Bran had seen Arya. The old knight had escorted their mother all her way to King’s Landing, the Eyrie and to Robb’s host. And reported now, how their brother and their Lady Mother would argue over the reliability of Sansa’s strange messages. Robb would have immediately understood. And wouldn’t doubt, their sister could have escaped King’s Landing on her own. He would argue, Arya had always been excellent at stealing herself away, no matter how well guarded she had been. Hence, he would think her more than capable to do the same in King’s Landing. Especially since their father had sent several letters home, telling, Arya would have again disappeared from the scene, to avoid attendance at yet another courtly event. Thus, for Robb it would all make sense now, why they never once received any proof of life – like a letter in Arya’s handwriting – to confirm she were indeed held hostage in King’s Landing. However, their mother weren’t convinced and would beg Robb not to act as if it were true. Bran were just be a little boy, Lady Catelyn would argue, and would even suspect the fall would have caused some head injury, making him hallucinate about Arya.

What had she expected!? Of course, this all would sound insane to their Lady Mother. Of course, Catelyn Tully wouldn’t jump blindly to the conclusion, that Arya could have escaped the massacre, no one else had survived and would now sneak all the way home to Winterfell. But their mother didn’t know what they knew. What it was like to let one’s mind wander. To join it with someone else’s. To see through their eyes. To hear through their ears. To sense with their skin. To scent with their nose and taste with their mouth. Of course, it was a far bigger stretch for Catelyn Tully to believe her young son were a greenseer, than it was for his skinchanging siblings.

Therefore, Robb had sent the man home they all trusted with their lives, their master-at-arms. To hear the tale with his own ears and report it back to him. Sansa and Maester Luwin assured the old knight, Bran wouldn’t suffer from any head injuries and it all were true. And to prove her point, Sansa even told him about the dream they had had the night their father had died, and instructed him to tell it Robb and Lady Catelyn as well. Ser Rodrik’s brows had knit in disbelief until Maester Luwin assured, it were true. Telling him, he himself would have dismissed it as a foolish coincidence – only to receive the letter confirming Ned Stark’s death a few hours later.

Then Bran took over, telling word by word what he had seen and what he had spoken with Arya. Making Rodrik’s eyes grow wide. And Sansa remarked, the short hair were a clue that it was no hallucination. That this were exactly what Arya would do, changing her appearance to hide herself. And what better than to disguise herself as a boy, while the Lannisters looked for a girl.

Rodrik Cassel stayed at Winterfell for four days, then. The old knight had wanted to return to Robb and their mother the day after he had arrived. But Sansa had insisted he needed to recover his strength and made him stay for three nights. While she used the opportunity to think of a code for Robb, to keep each other posted more clearly about Arya. She thought of multiple codenames for people, places and regions in the North, the Riverlands and the Vale. Suspecting, if Arya for some reason couldn’t get north or to Riverrun, she might seek out their aunt and cousin at the Eyrie. So, before he left again, Sansa instructed Ser Rodrik to ask Robb to send her a raven naming her favourite song – to let her know he had received the code. And she would respond to that with the name of his favourite childhood hero – to let him know, they could use the code from then on.

Still, it had taken almost two moon’s turns before finally a raven arrived, saying “Six Maids in a Pool.” At last. Now they could keep Arya safe, Sansa told herself, then. Pushing back the thoughts, that their younger sister should have reached the Neck by now – even if she would have travelled all the way on foot. Sansa just couldn’t allow herself to give in to the dreadful thought, that Arya might be dead. No, she had to believe in her little sister! Arya would manage. If anyone could, it were her. And if they didn’t know where to look for her, how could the Lannisters? She had to keep her hopes up. For Bran and Rickon. And for Arya.

But soon she had to learn, it wasn’t only her Lady Mother and her siblings in the Riverlands she had to worry about. A sennight later, Jojen revealed the real reason, why he had come to Winterfell with Meera. A dream of his, about a winged wolf in chains and a three-eyed raven from beyond the Wall, telling him to free it. And that he would think Bran to be that chained wolf. Before Meera explained, Jojen would have greendreams, giving him hints about events happening in the future. Although, Sansa was irritated and upset to hear this, she was in no position to call it madness. Not after all she had experienced and witnessed herself lately.

And as if to prove himself, Jojen told them about another greendream. A dream he had dreamt twice. Once at Greywater Watch and now again at Winterfell.
“I dreamed that the sea was lapping all around Winterfell. I saw black waves crashing against the gates and towers, and then the salt water came flowing over the walls and filled the castle. Drowned men were floating in the yard. When I first dreamed the dream, I didn’t know their faces, but now I do. Your septon is one, your smith another and your maester and the old knight with the large whiskers, too.” Jojen told them.
And Meera added, though, they couldn’t say exactly what this dream would mean, something would happen at Winterfell. Something bad, causing those people’s death.
It made Sansa’s flesh crawl, and Bran spoke out what she thought, “But Rodrik isn’t here anymore!”
“He will be and he will die.” Jojen stated, his voice and face lacking any emotions.
“No!” Rickon clutched to Sansa, “You can’t let this happen!”
Making her swallow, “When?” she demanded, trying to sound calm and steady to not further upset her brothers.
But neither Jojen or Meera could give her a clear answer. Within days, fortnights or years.
Sansa clenched her jaw at that.
“It’s unlikely the actual see will come to Winterfell, we’re in the middle of the continent, right?” she eventually asked Meera, the only person present older than herself.
“His dreams are metaphorical.” the young woman nodded.

So, Sansa called for Maester Luwin, Syrio Forel, the acting master-at-arms with Rodrik Cassel absent, and Osha to join them in the lord’s solar at once. Then, Jojen repeated his dream to them. Though, Sansa had asked him not to mention Luwin this time, to not scare their good old maester. Afterwards, Sansa called for the commanders of their guards and remaining forces at Winterfell. Ordering them, to prepare the holdfast and men for an attack in near future, and to let their direwolves in and out of the keep as they pleased. They were their best scouts in case of a surprise attack.

Nevertheless, urged Maester Luwin her to inform Robb about this potential threat to Winterfell. But Sansa and Bran refused. Robb had enough on his mind, with the war and finding Arya. They didn't want him to worry about them now, too.
“After all, we’re given the same lessons in warfare strategies as Robb.” Sansa proclaimed.
And Bran added, “Father always said, Winterfell could be held by fifty good men. We’ve more than that, Maester Luwin, we’ll manage.”
So, instead Sansa instructed their maester to send ravens to all the great Northern houses, to remind them again to repair and reinforce their holdfasts. Even though, Robb had done so right before he had marched south. Still, Maester Luwin pleaded with them, to at least inform these houses about the threat to Winterfell. But Sansa wouldn’t have it. Fearing, they might get word to Robb, who surely would send troops home, then. Men, he needed in the Riverlands. But she ordered to constantly have a raven and a rider ready to inform their closest bannermen at Castle Cerwyn in case of an attack.

Thus, they prepared on their own, all dreading the day Rodrik Cassel would return to Winterfell. Sansa felt awful because of that. The old knight had never been anything but kind and loyal to all of them, and now she wished to never see him again. For him to never return to his home and his family. But of course the day eventually came, once the broad stature with his large white whiskers stood in the courtyard again. Sansa was barely able to hide her fear when she welcomed him back, then.

Robb had sent the old knight home again, to guard Bran whenever he were at the hear tree. To stand witness, in case he would have another greensight vision, and to report it back to him and Lady Catelyn. Since unfortunately, their Lady Mother were still not fully convinced of Arya’s escape. Hearing, she were so intimate with a man in the woods, would have only made Catelyn Tully wail about her prospects. For Arya to either be dead, or imprisoned and possibly dishonoured in King’s Landing. Or free and probably dishonoured by some stranger. Whereas, Robb would have laughed with relief, to hear their little sister would have found herself a ‘friend’ to protect her, and wouldn’t doubt Arya were still alive.

And Ser Rodrik told them then, a giant wolf pack led by a large she-wolf, would roam the Riverlands. And rumour would have it, they were targeting Lannisters specifically. Causing the smallfolk to whisper, said she-wolf were the ghost of the lost northern princess – who they believed to have been killed in King’s Landing. Robb would have had several reports, describing the she-wolf as Nymeria. And Grey Wind would have found his sister’s mark near corpses of a Lannister scouting party. While some of his own men would say, the pack would have warned them in advance of surprise attacks. And one messenger would even claim, the wolves would have escorted him to safe territory. Therefore, Robb would suspect Arya behind all of it. Believing, that might be the reason, why she hadn’t come home, yet. Oh gods, please, this just had to be true! Sansa's heart jumped at the prospect of hope. It’d be so like Arya, to not come home and sit on her hands while Robb fought a war. And neither would she, Sansa decided, inspired by her sister. She’d face whatever threat was coming for them. And wouldn’t buckle under the pressure.

Thus, once reports came about Ironborn harrying Northern shores and attacking Torren’s Square, Sansa didn’t hesitate to order the remaining Stark forces to come to their bannermen’s aid – to show those Ironborn the North were all but weak. She was so confident, believing the forces would return victorious within no time. And that seventy men were more than enough to hold Winterfell against any attempted attacks until then. Sansa felt so well prepared. She had even ordered for Bran and Rickon to sleep in her room, ever since Ser Rodrik had returned from the Riverlands. All of them slept fully clad, their weapons and coats within their arms’ reach – with two men standing guard outside their door.

Little had she known, she was fooled. That she had done exactly, what their enemy had wanted her to do. But luckily their wolves couldn’t be deceived as easily as her. They were out in the wolfswood, the night Jojen's dream came true. They had been hunting, once they noticed a small force was approaching Winterfell. It had been Bran’s turn to warg his wolf, then. Therefore all three of them were awake, even before their wolves howled, and returned through the Hunter’s Gate. Sansa instantly ordered the two guards to raise the alarm, and to send the rider and raven to Cerwyn. While the three of them ran to wake Jojen and Meera, never leaving each other’s side.

Still, they had barely set their feet into the courtyard to meet with their wolves, when two other guards came running, “My lady! Winterfell has fallen! You were betrayed! It’s Theon Greyjoy!” 
Sansa froze in disbelief. This can’t be true?! “He would never …” she stammered, trying to assure her equally shocked brothers.
Until Meera’s slap hit her, “We have to flee!” the young woman demanded.
Just before Syrio and Osha came running, “Ironborn! In the keep!” with a panicking Hodor in tow, repeatedly screaming his nickname.
“We can’t run!” Sansa insisted, readying her bow and her brothers mimicked her. Feeling her favourite weapon in her hand, reminded her of her training and Sansa managed to sound less shrieking now, “We have to fight, protect our people!” 
“No, my lady!” Syrio Forel countered, “Your brother can’t win this war, with you three dead or held hostage.” as they heard the fighting come closer from the South Gate.
“We have to go!” Meera shouted, “Now!”
But where could they go? Where would they be safe? Sansa's mind was spinning in panic, until kind grey eyes appeared in front of her mind’s eye.
“Rickon, get onto Shaggydog!” she ordered, dragging Bran with her to the small North-eastern Gate. With their wolves and the others following close behind.

“Sansa!?” Bran shouted.
After she had ordered the guards at the gate, to close it behind them. In hope, it would delay their escape from being noticed.
“Wall!” Sansa answered his unspoken question, not once slowing down.
She darted north, as fast as she could. And only let go of Bran’s hand, once she realised, she was slowing him down. Rickon on Shaggydog stayed right beside them, while Lady and Summer ran scouting the territory ahead of them. They couldn’t afford to run blindly into another trap! And if it truly were Theon attacking them, he knew they would try to get to Jon. Or seek out the Umbers at Last Hearth, if their way south to Greywater Watch or White Harbour was blocked. But first, they had to get to the mountain clans! Sansa told herself and ignored her lungs’ urging to slow down. There they'd get horses and supplies. And could send ravens to Robb and Jon. They needed to know.

Chapter Text

He just didn’t understand, she told herself once she left him and Barra under the heart tree. To find Jaqen and ask his help to free the Northerners. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose another! Couldn’t lose Robb, like she had the others. The sweet and innocent ones. She had nightmares ever since she realised, it hadn’t been a ruse. Nightmares of Sansa. Her auburn hair fiercely swaying in the wind, loosening her arrows from the battlements, each a perfect hit – until a single arrow from Theon hits her in the heart. Nightmares of Bran. Bravely duelling Theon – until the traitor strikes him down with a blow of full force. Nightmares of wild little Rickon. Riding Shaggydog and wielding his Braavosi sword – until Ironborn surround them and pierce them both with spears. She couldn’t lose another! He just didn’t understand.

And like before, she didn’t have to look for the Lorathi. He was already waiting for her, near the entrance of the godswood. Eager to hear a third name. But she had none for him, she needed help.
“Three lives were snatched from a god. Three lives must be repaid. The gods are not mocked.” Jaqen spoke, his voice silk and steel, kind and yet warning.
“I never mocked.” she retorted annoyed. Did he think her stupid!? That she wouldn’t know what he was doing, riding with Amory Lorch? Killing and butchering, that’s all they did! So, what was his goddamn problem now? “The name … can I name anyone? And you’ll kill them?” she asked again, angry.
“A man has said.” he assured.

“Swear it! Swear it by the gods.” she demanded.
“By all the gods of sea and air, and even him of fire, this man swears it. By the seven new gods and the old gods beyond count, this man swears it.” he vowed.
And had barely finished, once she hissed, “It’s Jaqen H’ghar.”
At that, she saw the Lorathi for the first time in distraught, “A girl … makes a jest!?”
“You swore. The gods heard you.” she replied frigidly.
“The gods did hear.” he confirmed and drew a thin dagger.
For a split of a moment, Arya feared he would attack her and reached for her own blade, hidden in her sleeve.
“A girl will weep. A girl will lose her only friend.” he said, pointing his blade at his heart.
“You’re not my friend." she snarled at him, "A friend would help.”
“A girl might unsay the name, if a friend did help?” he asked, trying to smile again, but failed.
“A girl might.”
He put his blade away, “Come!” he said and grabbed her wrist, “A man will not sleep until this girl unsays a certain name.”
He dragged her behind to the kitchens, and ordered four kettles of hot soup to be made. Weasel soup, people would call it later. After hearing, she would have made the boiling soup, that an hour later was flying at the guards in the dungeon under the Widow’s Tower.

“A man would hear a certain name unsaid.” Jaqen demanded in the dungeon, once the captives had been freed.
“I take the name back.” she proclaimed, yet asked, “Do I still have a third name?”
“A girl is greedy.” The Lorathi countered, piercing her with his eyes, “The debt is paid and now a man must die.”
“What!? No, I unnamed—”
Jaqen passed his hand down his face. And where it had gone, his features changed.
“How did you do that!?” she stammered thunderstruck.
“You have many more names on your lips, Arya Stark. Names to offer to the gods. You could offer them all, one by one.” the man with the unfamiliar features spoke, accent-free and in a different voice, “You could come and learn. Learn how to be faceless.” What!?

It took her a moment to understand. Faceless? Like the Faceless Men? Her skin crawled. Syrio Forel had told her about them.
“The most deadly assassins in the world. If they come for you, then death is certain.” her dancing master had said.
And she had heard about them again, in the Red Keep and last in Flea Bottom. When rumours had claimed, her father would have paid one to get Robert killed – to steal his throne. Hence, Arya stared incredulously at the stranger in front of her now. A Faceless Man. Offering her to become one herself. Offering her the means to take out every damn monster from her list. He studied her closely, expectantly.
“No.” she couldn’t. Gendry. Barra. Hot Pie. Robb. Mother. They were all she had left. And they needed her! She had to keep them safe.
“Then we must part.” the stranger said and handed her a coin, “If the day comes, when you must find me again, give this to any man from Braavos and speak these words, ‘Valar morghulis.’”
“Valar morghulis.” she repeated reflexively, staring at the coin in her hand.
“Good.” he turned to walk away.
“You still kill Joffrey, right?” she burst out concerned. Before the little shit got the chance to kill the rest of her pack as well.
“Yes. That life has been promised to the gods.” the stranger confirmed, “Say the words again, Arya Stark.”
“Valar morghulis.”
He only nodded then and walked away, leaving her alone in the now empty dungeon.

Before Arya eventually stepped out from the Widow’s Tower herself. Still absently-minded staring at the coin in her hand again. Until an arrow whizzing by and hitting a man across the yard, roused her from her straying thoughts.

The supposed Northern captives and the Bloody Mummers fought the Lannisters, to gain control over the holdfast. It had been all a ruse. The goat had sold Lorch out, Arya had come to understand, once Robett Glover had mistaken them for Vargo Hoat’s men. But how could she have known? She had to do something. Robb had needed her help. And now they do, you bloody fool! Arya realised and snatched a dead man’s shortsword, to strike down the Lannister archer, who had loosened the arrow. She claimed his weapon and quiver and ran over the yards, back to the godswood. At its entrance, she briefly warged Bobby, the big black dog. Thank the gods! Gendry and Barra were alright, hiding under some bushes – with no sign of anyone else in the godswood. She would keep it that way. And stayed at the entrance, guarding it. Them.

Until the fighting slowly died down. Although, she couldn’t yet say which side had won, Arya snatched more weapons of dead soldiers. And each piece of arming she gained, she hid in some brushes near the entrance – to take them to her secret store later. Without risking to get caught by him. She was in no mood to hear Gendry’s scolding so soon after she had fooled him. Better to let him calm down somewhat. Both of them. After what she had witnessed just an hour ago. Thus, she ran back and forth – to the yard to snatch anything she could get hold of, and back to the bushes to hide her plunder and grab some more. Thankfully, kept Gendry’s protectiveness over Barra him from leaving their hideout before sunrise, giving Arya time to even relieve two men of their chain armour.

Come dawn, she swiftly checked, if she had left any tracks leading to her hidden treasures, before she ran to the kitchen yard. To check on Hot Pie and Jenna, and to hear who was in control over Harrenhal now. Though, she had known before she got there. They were! Her heart was pounding in excitement, once she stepped into the kitchens to see Hot Pie.
“Everyone’s talking about you and your weasel soup!” he said, sounding as if he were proud of her – it made her blush.

And she really had thought, this were finally the end of all the terror and fear, for her and her little pack and everyone else at Harrenhal. Had thought, her return to Robb and her Lady Mother were finally within her hands’ grasp.

Thus, she had asked Hot Pie and Jenna to take Barra for the day. She needed know which Northern bannerman was in charge now. So, she could reveal her identity to him. So, she and her little pack could get safely to Riverrun. Within no time. She truly had believed that. Fool! In the afternoon, once she saw the man in charge ride through the gate – or rather his banner – her heart sunk instantly. Seven hells! Bolton. Lord of the Dreadfort. That holdfast’s name came not by chance. Was she cursed!? Of all the bannermen her brother had, it had to be that man?

And it got even worse. As soon as Roose Bolton had unhorsed and greeted Robett Glover and the other leading Northerners, one of the men grabbed her arm and dragged her forth.
“That’s the weasel who made the soup, m’lord!”
Bolton’s cold eyes pierced through her, making her feel beyond uncomfortable. Another monster. Just as bad as the Mountain. Maybe worse. She instantly thanked the gods, that Roose Bolton had never visited Winterfell since she was born. He had never seen her. But that man had a reputation to read people like others read books. And she certainly was grateful now, that her instinct had kept her from revealing herself to Glover, during the escape from the dungeon. Sure, Bolton could return her safely to her brother. Easily. If he wanted to … but at what price? No, she wouldn’t allow Robb to become indebted to this man. Just because she couldn’t wait to get to him. There was another way. They just had to get out.

However, that turned out to trickier than she had thought. Lord Bolton was seemingly impressed by her weasel soup. And it now certainly looked as if it would have been all her idea – with Jaqen gone. She hadn’t seen the faceless man again, neither his old nor his new face. Hopefully gone to kill Joffrey. But it made no difference for her now. Since Lord Bolton unfortunately decided to reward her. Naming her his cupbearer, after he had made sure she were not afraid of leeches. There was only one leech she was afraid of. The one draining her of her courage, every time his icy eyes were on her. She shouldn’t have wasted her third name on false Northern prisoners. It hadn’t helped Robb. Not even a bit!

And Roose Bolton even demanded to know her real name, since Weasel would not suit his cupbearer. Careful now, that man can spot a lie! Her mouth was dry, once she searched her empty mind for a name to give him. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water, she tried to soothe herself, until one name popped up.
“Nymeria! I’m Nymeria.” she proclaimed, and it was no lie. “But you could call me Nan, if you like, m’lord.” No lie, either.
“Alright, Nan.” Bolton approved.
And from then on kept her so busy, she could no longer take care of Barra. Hot Pie and Jenna, covering each other’s tasks, stepped in for her now. She missed the little one. Terribly. Which clearly was mutual. Since whenever Arya came to the kitchens, fetching something for the lord, Barra’s eyes lit up. Only to well up in tears again, as soon as she made for the door. Brief hugs and kisses, or a quick caressing over the infant’s head was all she could dare. Since Arya was intent to keep Barra a secret from Roose Bolton. She would rather break both their hearts, than endanger the little one by taking her to the Kingspyre Tower.

Yet, at night she snuck to the godswood. But Gendry and Barra weren’t there. Two nights in row now. On one hand, Arya was relieved, to escape his undoubtedly enraged told-you-so speech for a little longer. He had been right. As much as she hated to admit it, she should've listened to him. She shouldn’t have freed the prisoners. It only endangered her pack at Harrenhal. It hadn’t made any difference for Robb. And they … they were still dead. If she hadn’t freed the men, she still would have a name to give to Jaqen – which would be Roose Bolton now. But mostly, nobody would run around talking about any weasel soup. Bolton wouldn’t even know she was in his holdfast. She could still hide with Barra in the godswood, then. Play with her. Watch her explore the world. And hold her while she slept. She missed the little one. She was getting used to being called ‘mummy’. Somehow even liked it. Had. Since now she only got to hear it at the kitchens, and it always was full of longing and despair. Arya kicked against a root of the heart tree and cursed herself. Flight was the only option they had left now.

The night before, the night after the fall of Harrenhal, she had hid all her new plunder with her other stolen items in the treetop, and had snuck back to the Kingspyre Tower. To her new old room. There, she had quickly checked on Gendry and Barra – listening to their sound sleep breathing through Bobby's ears – before she herself had dozed off exhausted. Though, this night she returned to her room immediately, and called Nymeria. They needed her now. At least, if they hoped to survive their escape. Then, she watched Barra and Gendry sleeping at the forge for a while. Even in his sleep his brows were knit now. Yap, that speech was coming for her. There was no doubt about that. And she deserved it.

And if that wouldn’t fuel her remorse enough, during the day her eyes now always landed on the spiked heads above the gatehouse and the poor women in the stocks, whenever she had to fetch water. Bolton truly was a monster. Punishing and executing simple household folks, just because they had lacked the courage to defy the Lannisters. Even though, Arya knew those people would have ended up there, even if she hadn’t helped freeing the Northerners, she felt sick with guilt. Each time she looked at them.

The day before, Goodwife Amabel had found her there at the stocks. And had threatened Arya, she would soon switch places with Pretty Pia – since Lord Tywin would retake Harrenhal within no time. She had angrily swung her bucket at the old woman then, threatening to kill her, if she ever dared to come near her again. That vile old witch was one of few servants in the stronghold, who actually deserved to get her head spiked. And although, the Goodwife’s warning was real, it hadn't bothered Arya for long. She wouldn’t be at Harrenhal much longer, she had promised herself.

However, now it was Gendry who snuck up to her, once she stared at the poor women and the spiked heads.
“Admiring your work?” he scoffed spitefully. It hurt.
It was, as if he lent his voice to her own accusing remorse. And he was right. With almost every word he said. She hadn’t thought things through. Had endangered them all, and had indeed turned a blind eye to the monsters in her brother’s armies. Bolton was one, but Robb needed his men. Or else they wouldn’t stand a chance against the Lannisters’ armies, not after losing Winterfell and them. And suddenly the grief, she had held back for almost a moon’s turn now, overwhelmed her and she ran. Yet, he followed, proving once more why he was her best friend.

Once she had calmed down – and he finally accepted, they had to leave – they agreed to meet again after nightfall, all four of them. And Arya ran swiftly back to fetch that bucket of water. To clean the lord’s chamber. They couldn’t dare to escape, if Bolton suspected she were up to something. But luckily, she had served as Tywin’s cupbearer long enough, so she still managed to get the chamber ready, before the new castellan returned from his inspection of the holdfast.

Nevertheless, she was the last to arrive at the heart tree after nightfall. And apparently had Gendry already told Hot Pie what was going on, since the lad rushed upset towards her. Really upset, seemingly mad at her.
“I’m not leaving without her!” he proclaimed heatedly, “She’s my friend!”
Arya glanced at Gendry, who shrugged.
“You owe her, you two fuckers!” Hot Pie hissed, once he saw it, “You owe me!”
“Actually—” Arya began.
“No not ‘actually’!” their friend was fuming, “She’s coming with us! Or I’m staying—”
She couldn’t help but burst into laughter, “You’re cute, when you’re angry, Hot Pie.” she chuckled, “Of course, she’s coming!”
“What?” he stammered surprised, “Then why isn’t she here!?”

“Because the three of us have experience in this. She doesn’t!” Arya declared, “We prepare everything, and once we’re ready, you two go and seize her.”
“Huh?” Gendry burst out flabbergasted.
“You sneak to her quarters. Hot Pie tells her to come. And if she doesn’t, you seize her!” she explained, scowling at Gendry, “We’re not leaving her behind! She’s our friend. Barra loves her, and so does he!” Hot Pie's blush thereat was even visible in the dim light of the moon.
“I know that!” Gendry hissed, “I just don’t get why I need to seize her. It should be her decision—”
“Because…” Arya huffed annoyed, “we don’t have the luxury to wait for her to make up her mind. She’s coming with us. She’ll regret it, if she doesn’t! But she might not understand that, yet.”
Hot Pie hugged her fiercely then, “I’m with her!” he declared, and Gendry rolled his eyes in defeat.

Afterwards, Arya climbed swiftly into the tree, “Gendry, get up here!” she whispered, “Hot Pie, you catch. We don’t want to make any noise now.”
She handed Gendry the noisy items, like the chainmail, to carry down. While she plucked the other stuff and let it drop into Hot Pie’s arms. Until she was certain, she had plucked all her plunder from the tree. Then, she told them to get Jenna.
“Hey! Where’s Storm going!?” Gendry turned back, once the quick grey dog shot past him.
“Scouting the postern.”
“And Barra!?” Gendry worried. Like the mother hen he was.
“Bobby?” Arya nodded at the big black dog, who lay next to the soundly sleeping Barra, staring Gendry down.

Arya put on her hooded cloak and some trousers underneath her skirts. Before Gendry and Hot Pie returned with Jenna. Gendry carried her over his shoulder, a sullen expression on his face. And Hot Pie waddled behind, constantly whispering apologies to the girl.
“You gagged her!?” Arya hissed outraged, once Gendry let her down and stepped back.
“She was about to scream.” Hot Pie retorted apologetically, adding several ‘sorry’ addressed to the girl.
“Jenna, I’m really sorry for this and so are they.” Arya nodded at the two idiots, “I’m removing this now. And then we’ll explain everything. Just don’t scream! Okay?” she pleaded and the other girl nodded, still wide-eyed.
“What the fuck’s going on here!?” Jenna demanded furiously as soon as she could, studying them warily.
“We’re leaving. And you’re coming with us.” Arya answered calmly.
Making Jenna’s eyes go even wider, “Have you lost your minds!?”
“We know what we’re doing, Jenna! We just couldn’t tell you earlier, because, um, everything had to look normal.” Arya appeased and told her, she would have time to calm down and get used to the idea now, “You’re safe here with the lads. They’ll put on chainmail and arms, to protect you and the little one. And I’ll be right back with horses, okay?”
At that, Jenna slumped down onto the ground, staring bewildered at the grass beneath her. And Hot Pie sat down across from her, again apologising and assuring he would never harm her.
While Gendry handed each of them a cloak and walked up to Arya. Pulling her towards him by the waist, he whispered, “Be careful!”
“I swear. I’m back within less than an hour. Don’t leave her out of your sight!” Arya nodded at Jenna.
For a moment, Gendry leaned his forehead against hers. He was afraid. And then kissed her. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water. Fierce as a wolverine.

However, for once it turned out a good thing, that she had been so publicly exposed as Weasel and new cupbearer to Roose Bolton. At the stables, she didn’t have to introduce herself once she approached the stable boys. She only had to claim, Lord Bolton would want his four best hunting steeds saddled and ready for a wolf hunt, since their howling would disturb his sleep. And indeed, Arya had made Nymeria howl a few times on her way to the stables. Where the naïve lads now quickly went to work. One even offered to lead the four mounts to the Kingspyre Tower for her. But Arya declined, telling him, Lord Bolton wouldn’t want to see anyone leave their post. She felt sorry for the stable boys, once she walked off with the four steeds and hoped their punishment wouldn’t be too harsh. Roose Bolton should well notice that not only his best horses, but also his cupbearer had disappeared.

Back at the godswood, Gendry and Hot Pie strapped their supplies and weapons to the saddles. Whereas Arya gained their steeds’ trust, soothingly caressing and talking to them. Before Gendry helped Jenna and Hot Pie into their saddles and Arya adjusted their stirrups. While Hot Pie explained to Jenna, what would happen next and asked her to stay calm – to not look anywhere else but onto her mount’s neck, until they were past the postern. And last, Arya wrapped Barra with a cloak and cords safely to Gendry’s chest, and strapped another hooded cloak onto his shoulders. She felt his worried eyes on her then and knew, he wanted to kiss her again. But didn’t dare. Didn’t want to her know, he feared for her life. So she tiptoed, and pulled him into another kiss herself. Showing him, it was alright.

“Everyone hoods up.” Arya ordered, once he had mounted his steed, and handed him the reins to hers. “Your horses will follow ours. Just hold onto your saddles!” she assured Jenna and Hot Pie. Before she told Gendry, “I’ll send Storm when the path’s clear. Trust me!”
“I do. Just be careful!” he whispered, his voice low.

Then, Arya and Storm ran towards the small gate and only slowed down, once the postern came into view. The man who fears losing has already lost. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water.
“Good sir,” she approached the guard there, “Lord Bolton sends me. To give you guards some extra coin, for securing this great keep for our brave king once more.” she smiled shyly at the man.
Who fortunately let his guard down at the prospect of silver, “The king in the North!” he hailed dutifully.
He was young, not much older than Gendry. Arya’s heart sunk, but it had to be done. She showed him Jaqen’s coin and once he reached for it, she let it drop. Swift as a deer.
“I’m so sorry, kind sir. I didn’t expect your glove to be that cold.” she knelt down.
And so did he, “Never mind—”
Quick as a snake. Her dagger slit across his throat and Arya dove away from the blood spurting. Quiet as shadow. The guard sank down, his hands clutching to his open neck. He gaped at her in disbelief.
“I’m sorry. I truly am!” she meant it, as she watched the life fade from his eyes.

“Storm, get Gendry!” she whispered and the dog darted back over the yards to the godswood. Swift as a deer. Quiet as shadow. Arya picked up her coin and dragged the body into a dark corner – so it couldn’t be seen from the battlements around them. Then, after so many moon’s turns, she could finally get rid of her skirts. And placed them next to the guard, for Roose Bolton to find. To understand this was her doing, she thought, once she took the guard’s place until she heard horses approaching. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Calm as still water.
“Open the gate!” Gendry ordered and she went to do so.
But soon cursed, “Fuck.” the heavy bar seemed stuck.
Thus, Gendry was instantly at her side, demanding, “Onto your horse!” before he yanked the bar up and opened the gate.
Arya led their horses and dogs through, and he closed it again. So, hopefully their escape wouldn’t be noticed right away.

Once Gendry was back on his mount, Arya pressed her heels against her stallion's flanks and urged it to a quick pace – as fast as she dared with Hot Pie and Jenna. She turned in her saddle, seeing both of them clutch to their mounts, as she had told them. Good.

Both, Hot Pie and Gendry had agreed, at first they needed to get distance between them and Harrenhal. That they would need to ride as fast and as long as Hot Pie and Jenna could manage. Before they could slow down, to throw their persecutors off scent by following as many shallow streams as they could find. Though, Arya didn’t worry so much about that. Anyone chasing them would come to regret it. Nymeria would see to that! But she couldn’t tell her companions. Not yet.

Chapter Text

They stayed on the road for nearly an hour, riding as fast as they could risk with two untrained riders in their midst. Yet, eventually Gendry noticed Jenna was loosely jumping up and down in the saddle, looking as if she could be thrown off any moment. He rode up to her then and snatched her steed’s reins, slowing both their horses down.
“Arya, stop!” he called.
“I’m sorry.” Jenna snivelled, once she looked at him wide-eyed.
“It’s fine. You’re doing great.” he assured, though, without success.
The girl was close to tears, when they caught up with their companions.
“Don’t worry, Jenna. I was just about to ask Arry to slow down myself.” Hot Pie claimed, eliciting a small smile from Jenna.
“The hardest part’s behind us now.” Gendry added, “It’s time for us to get off the road anyway.”
“And by dawn the leech lord won’t even know where to look for us.” Arya snorted determined.
Although, they knew, going off road in the dim light of the moon would slow down them down significantly, increasing the risk for their horses to trip, they had agreed it were the safer way. Safer than careering into returning Bolton forces, or Lannisters preparing to retake Harrenhal.

They left the road at the next ford, heading north in the shallow gravelly stream’s bed. Thereafter, they followed deer passes northeast and then moved southeast, going downstream in another shallow brook. Before they headed west, galloping through meadows and fields, until they reached woods again, where they followed another stream northwards, hoping Bolton’s trackers would have lost their scent by now.

At least, Arya seemed quite confident about that, and Gendry soon got an idea why. They were still following that stream north, when they suddenly heard it. First, only a few distant far in the south. But soon more and more wolves joined in. It was getting louder, obviously creeping north. Towards them, spreading around them. Surrounding them.
“Seven hells!” Gendry cursed and scanned the woods, before Hot Pie’s and Jenna’s panic drew his attention to them.
“What’s going on!?” the girl shrieked, glancing at Hot Pie and then him.
“I don’t know.” Gendry admitted.
And was about to move his mount next to Jenna’s in front of him, once he realised the animals weren’t panicking. Their ears moved into all directions, listening closely, but otherwise they remained disturbingly calm. What the fuck!?
“Arry!?” Hot Pie exclaimed, “What’s happening?” and got no reaction.
At that, Gendry’s eyes darted up to her.
Locking with hers, once she finally turned around to proclaim, “Relax! It’s just a warning cry. No need to worry.”

And as abrupt as it had started, the howling died down. Leaving a deafening silence behind – only the wind rustling the trees and the gurgling brook could still be heard.
“Warning who!?” Gendry burst out demandingly, staring at her in disbelief.
The sudden sound of his voice startled their two companions.
“Other wolves, obviously.” Arya retorted with an annoyed undertone, trying to stare him down, “It’s just howlin—”
”That’s not just howling!” Hot Pie blurted, “That sounds like that giant pack that attacked the Lannisters and the Mountain’s men. They’re hunting us—”
“Nonsense! The wolves won’t harm us.” she claimed.
“How’d you know?” Hot Pie questioned unappeased
“Because I know!” Arya snarled and shot him a warning glance.
“How!?” Hot Pie demanded.
“The dogs and steeds are calm, are they not?” Gendry intervened, then.
“Exactly! And now let’s go, we need to find a place to rest.” Arya hissed, casting a glance at him, before she moved her steed further upstream, signalling them to follow.

Nevertheless, it was already dawn, when they finally came to a grassy clearing deep in the woods with a small spring by the treeline. Bobby and Storm drank eagerly alongside the horses, before they disappeared into the woods to hunt themselves some mice or rabbits. If anyone would find them there, it were by chance. Not by design. Arya was certain. Still, they didn't want to make it easier for them by building a fire – they had agreed not to do so for at least three days.

So, while Hot Pie set up camp and Jenna took the still sleeping Barra, Arya and Gendry took care of the horses.
“That howling. The warning cry.” Gendry eventually whispered, once he worked opposite of Arya, rubbing the first steed dry. “It was for you, wasn’t it?”
“Sort of.” she didn’t look at him.
“You’re controlling that giant pack.” he went on.
“Sort of.”
“Come on, Arya, you’ve to give me a bit more than just ‘sort of’.” he pleaded, when they moved on to the next horse, “You’re warging hundreds of wolves—”
“What? No, just one.” she chuckled and finally met his gaze. “Their alpha.” she added, when she saw his bewildered look.
“The she-wolf from hell?” he realised, “It’s no myth … it’s a direwolf, like your brother’s?”
She smiled at him then, “Mine. Nymeria.”
“The warrior princess. Of course!” he returned her smile.
“She takes care of Bolton’s trackers.” Arya assured, while they worked on the last horse.
“Then why’re we going in circles?” Gendry cocked his brow.
“She can’t be everywhere, stupid! And certainly can’t stop any ravens.” she snorted, “But she’ll follow us now, covering our tracks. So you better get used to a bit of howling.”
Making him chuckle.

Once they were done, she stepped in front of him and placed her hands on his chest. Fuck. She looked up at him longingly. And he knew, she was thinking of what he had told her the day before. Or else her hand would have long reached up to his face. He couldn’t bear her look, without bending down his head towards her. Stop. Step away! But he couldn’t. Not yet. So instead, he pulled her into his arms and placed a kiss on her forehead. And she let him, she closed her eyes and held on to him. They stood like that for far too long. Yet, not even close to long enough, for neither of them. Until they heard Barra’s happy babbling.
“Let’s talk tonight.” he suggested then heavy-heartedly.

She only nodded, and they picked up the little one together. Telling, Hot Pie and Jenna to get some sleep, before they settled down with Barra on their blankets. To feed her pieces of bread and apple, and some water in between. At first, she eagerly ate and drank and clearly enjoyed to have both of them around again. Which made it easier for them to focus on the little one and avoid looking at one another. But eventually Barra noticed the horses and was quicker to her feet than they expected.
“Not so fast, little horseman!” Arya grabbed her, “Riding lesson number one, never sneak up from behind. You might scare them and get hurt.” She got up with Barra on her arm, “You should join them!” she nodded towards Jenna and Hot Pie, “I’ll take first watch.”

“Okay.” he sighed and lay down, covering his eyes with his right arm. They had managed to get out. And with a bit of luck, they could even leave these war-torn lands behind them. Yet, in that moment, Gendry wished for nothing more than to be back in Harrenhal. How was this possible? That the worst part of his life had also been the best? People were tortured and killed at Harrenhal, but he had found a family there. And now he was free and about to lose it all. Were the gods mocking him!?

They probably were. A cruel jest, though! He had fought all his life against comparisons to his sire. To not become like him. Yet, of all the girls in the world, he fell for the same as his father. Literally, it seemed. Even Gendry had eventually heard the rumours in King’s Landing. How Ned Stark’s daughter would turn into the spitting image of her aunt. How King Robert had ridden north to see for himself. And how everyone had expected to hear of her betrothal to the crown prince. But fortnights had followed fortnights, and nothing had happened. Instead rumours had spread, about the growing dislike between the queen and the Hand. And about feasts, where Robert had drunkenly addressed the Hand’s daughter by her late aunt’s name. Some gossipmongers had even claimed to know, the king would have taken liberties with the girl. And from then on, the rumours had gone wild. Saying, the king and his Hand would plot to set the Lannister bitch aside, so ‘Lyanna reborn’ could take her place. Lyanna Stark had been his father’s downfall. Would Arya now be his? Would the loss of her finally make him turn him into his father? Make him go down the same dark path as his sire? Lucky him, he had no armies! So, at least he couldn’t drag the whole realm down with him. Even if he wanted to, he thought bitterly.

If she had just been honest with him!? He would’ve kept his distance. Would’ve never allowed himself to fall for her. Would’ve never allowed Barra to call her mummy. And certainly, would’ve never kissed her. He would’ve never held her in her sleep … where it all started. With holding her in his arms. Finally having someone who needed him. Someone who cared about him, who genuinely wanted him. Horseshit! Who was he fooling here? How could he not have held her!? When she had whimpered in her sleep, battling nightmares? He hadn’t known what she had been through back then, but he had seen her eyes. That first day in King’s Landing, once her father had died. He would’ve held her nonetheless! He would have never kissed her. And never would have allowed her to get so close with Barra. But for him, it wouldn’t have made any difference. He would have fallen for her anyway. Because how could he not!? Instead of mere hours, he only would have been miserable for several moon’s turns now. Fuck.

He tried to clear his mind, to get some sleep. In vain. So, he listened to Arya and Barra, giggling together in utter joy. How could this be wrong? When it felt so right. And not only for him. Even his baby sister was madly in love with her. Barra adored her, above all others. And it came to no surprise, Arya was amazing with her. Not the slightest conventional, probably as free-spirited as a mother could be. Nevertheless, Barra was safer with her than with anyone else. Even now, when he was positive if he would remove his arm from his eyes, he would find them both on horseback. No saddle or reins or anything. Knowing damn well he wouldn’t approve. Still, he smiled. Arya would die before she let anything happen to Barra. So, how fucked up was their world, to rip those two apart!? Who so evidently belonged together! Just because one of them was a highborn and the other was not?

His two hours were over before he knew. At least his body had gotten some rest, while his mind had seemed unable to shut up. Nevertheless, once he heard Arya approach him, he played to be at sleep. Stupidly hoping, she would steal a kiss. She leant over him and maybe even thought of kissing him. But she didn’t. And at least, in this short moment his mind let him focus on pretending to be asleep. To not swallow loudly. Until she sat back on her blanket and shook him by the shoulder to wake him. Once he side-glanced at her then, her gaze was stubbornly fixed on Barra. Watching her chase Storm over the clearing.
“Everything alright?” he asked, knowing it was not.
“Yeah, fine. So far no one’s coming after us. Anymore.” she assured quietly.
“Good.” he said and got up, “Time to save poor Storm from the little monster, huh? He must be exhausted.” 

Gendry grabbed Barra and told her, they would need to be a little quieter now so Arya could sleep – earning himself a prompt frown. The little one seemed confused at how everyone, even the dogs were so sleepy during daytime. But as usual he was able to lure her into a more quiet game. He practised some words with her, which she seemed to enjoy more and more by day. Probably due to the immediate sense of accomplishment, once she named things correctly. Thereafter, they built some mud cakes and Gendry struggled to not get dirt all over her. But the little one brightened his mood visibly. He’d never become like his father. Not when he had Barra. With her, he could survive letting Arya go. She’d be his little light in the dark. Just as she had been for all of them in Harrenhal.

Once he woke Hot Pie to take over for him, the dogs were thankfully rested enough to help bridle Barra again. Hot Pie seemed barely been able to hide his aching from the hard ride. But he tried. Something the old Hot Pie wouldn’t even have thought of. Still, he now only tasked his friend to feed the little monster and let her tire herself with the dogs. In hope, she were asleep again, when they continued their ride. Before Gendry lay down next to Arya – who had turned her back towards his blanket. So, he quickly closed his eyes and tried to focus on dreaming of his future with Barra. They could go to Dorne, where bastards weren’t disregarded. Or Essos, where no one knew them. Maybe Qohor, to finish what he had started at Tobho Mott’s shop.

It had worked, he had fallen asleep this time. It had worked too well. When Hot Pie woke him later, he found Arya where she wasn’t supposed to be. In his arms. Seven hells. Fortunately, their friend had woken him first, so Gendry could carefully remove his arms now, before he shook her awake. And even better, Barra was asleep again. As planned, so they saddled up quickly and strapped her to his chest again. Where she slept for another two hours, before they had to stop and wrap her differently. So she could see what was going on around her, and finding herself on horseback again delighted Barra promptly. Especially once they galloped over fields and meadows once more. Gendry was barely able to restrain her cheers, then. But otherwise, the little one behaved nicely, evidently overwhelmed by all the new things she got to see. Therefore, they halted only two more times for short pauses.

Before they set up camp at dusk, on another small clearing in the woods, with a nearby runlet this time. Barra was soundly asleep by then. Hence they placed her on Gendry’s blanket, and Jenna and Hot Pie dropped down dog-tired onto theirs. All of them were sore from the ride now, even Arya. Their eight moon’s turns at Harrenhal had taken its toll. But unlike Hot Pie and Jenna, their bodies at least remembered how to ride and kept the aching at a minimum. Which was still bad enough, and all Gendry wanted now was to drop down onto his blanket and sleep until dawn. But he knew, it was no use to delay their confrontation any longer. They had been too good at avoiding confrontations before, and it had always led to having a worse one in the end. Only this one, he feared, would be their final one. The worst one.

Like earlier, Gendry wanted to use the opportunity when they took care of the horses. But somehow he couldn’t speak it out, and only got more uneasy the longer he waited. Which she unmistakeably noticed, casting him nervous glances. Damn. Therefore, once they had rubbed the last horse dry, he took a deep breath and stepped around the mount to face her.
Asking quietly the question, he needed answered most, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
It took her a moment to reply and she didn’t look at him, “When? On the kingsroad, when I barely knew you? In the storehouse? So you could tell the Mountain if he’d picked me? After I told my brother I was no hostage!?” her voice was shaky.
“Before I kissed you!” he blurted in disbelief.
“How should I’ve known when you’d kiss me?” she hissed defensively.
“You knew! We nearly kissed once we sparred that first time.” he countered hurt, “But instead you led me on—”
“I didn’t!” she objected, making him pierce her with his eyes until she averted her gaze, “I didn’t want to lose you.” her voice almost broke.

Nevertheless, he huffed, “And what about my baby sister!? Who thinks you're her moth—”
“That would’ve happened anyway!” she interrupted angrily, “You seem to forget, Mhaegen left her to my care, not yours.” Of course, she’d bring his greatest failure up now.
“Mhaegen was desperate and didn’t know—” he countered.
“Yes, she did!” Arya snarled, dumbfounding him, “And it only assured her to entrust her daughter to me.”
“You told Mhaegen!? But not me?” he burst out, feeling a pang in his chest.
“You would've left me!” she hissed, tears in her eye.
“Gods, Arya, how did you think that’d go?” Gendry countered, “You returning home to your family with Barra and me. How that'd look like!?”
Her silence at that left him stunned. She really hadn’t thought this through.
“What if I’d tried anything?” he demanded disappointed, “Would you’ve let me dishonour you!? Entirely clueless—”

“Clueless!? You had more than enough hints to put the pieces together on your own!” she snarled, spilling angry tears now, “How could a commoner afford castle-forged steel? Or water dancing lessons? Why did I think the gold cloaks were after me? Why do I know all those things about noble houses and politics? How come I'm the missing Stark girl’s namesake? And my big brother the king in the North's? How come I’m a skinchanger, and the Young Wolf mysteriously makes a direwolf do his bidding? Even though, I told you skinchanging runs in my family! Still, you never asked any of these questions. And you know damn well why, Gendry. You didn’t want to know!”
Leaving him only to nod in defeat. She was right. He didn’t want to see it.

“We never had a chance, did we?” he asked after a while of awkward silence.
“That’s up to you …” she whispered and stepped closer.
“Arya, you can’t really believe that!? You’re a highborn. I’m a basta—”
“I don’t care.” she countered stubbornly.
“Arya, that’s not your decision—” he retorted, almost speechless over her ignorance.
“Yes, it is!” she objected furiously.
“No… it’s your brother’s.”
“You don’t know him! Robb would let me decide.” she stated stubbornly, “He went to war to get me and Father back!”
“Yes, and his men followed him, fighting and dying for him now.” Gendry countered, “They expect rewards for that, once the war's over.” he cupped her face, “They want you!”
Her eyes went wide at that. She hadn’t thought of this before.
“Your brother might no longer be in a position to let you decide.” he went on heavy-heartedly, “And I can’t compete with those men.”
“Yes, you can! You kept me safe. On the kingsroad. At the towerhouse. The storehouse and at Harrenhal.” she pleaded, “I’ll tell Robb. I’ll tell all of them! Nobody can deny you a knighthood then—”
“Arya, a knight’s still too far below a princess.” he sighed.

“And with Barra … no one’s going to knight me. People will think I’d ruined you, no matter what.” he continued, “Your brother could even legitimise me and her, but behind our backs people would still sneer and gossip. Barra would never be anything else but your bastard.”
“You can’t know that!” she countered desperately.
“But I do! Because there’s only one thing worse than a nobleman’s bastard.” he proclaimed, “And that’s a noblewoman’s bastard!”
“The North’s different!” she objected, “No one knows who fathered the Mormont women’s children. And nobody dares to call them anything else but Mormonts.”
“The Mormonts are a small house on the edge of the realm, why’d anyone care!?” Gendry countered bitterly, “But House Stark's one of the eldest and most prominent—” it suddenly dawned on him, “Seven hells, you’re not just the youngest daughter of a lord anymore!” he swallowed loudly, “Arya, you’re your brother’s heir now. His only heir.”
She stared at him thunderstruck. And he had to clear his throat, to fight back the lump growing there.
“You’re a priceless trophy now! Every man in the Seven Kingdoms would want you now, for himself or his heir.” He felt sick and gasped for air, “Oh gods, what if they believe Barra were yours and mine … they'd do worse than—”

Arya stepped back from him in disbelief, “You’re taking her away from me!?”
“I have to! I’ll take you to Riverrun, and then …” his voice broke.
“No! We can think of something. There has to be a different way.” she countered and huffed naïvely, “I won’t marry any highborn prick, they can't force me!”
With the right leverage they could, Gendry thought bitterly, but didn’t have the heart to speak it out loud. So, instead he only said, “That's not how this world works.”
“Then I’ll make it!” she snarled and shoved him.
“No, Arya, you won’t.” Gendry whispered disillusioned and cupped her face, caressing her cheek for a moment, before he kissed her … goodbye.

It was just a brief one, since he quickly let go of her, “I’m sorry.”
He turned away and picked up Barra, before he moved his blanket away from hers. So Hot Pie and Jenna lay now in between them. He didn’t dare to look at her anymore and lay down, his back to where Arya still stood. Pulling Barra to his chest, he caressed her back and soothed himself to sleep. Which was surprisingly easy. Now, that everything had been said. His mind was blank, and so was his heart. Allowing him to doze off into a deep and dreamless slumber.

Until Hot Pie woke him about five hours later and sat down next to him, causing Gendry to frown. His friend took a deep breath, before he looked at him, “She’s gone.”

Chapter Text

Arya stood right where he left her. Amongst their grazing steeds. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, as she watched him carry his blanket and Barra away from hers. How could he do this now? After all they had been through. They had survived the slaughtering in King’s Landing, and again at the towerhouse and storehouse. And now they even got out of Harrenhal. How could he just give up like that? She stood there with clenched fists, and yearned for him to get up and change his mind. But he didn’t. Because he was right. She had gotten them out of Harrenhal, away from all those monsters there. But still, they weren’t safe. She put them in danger.

No, she wouldn’t allow it! Arya eventually brushed away her tears, she was Arya Stark. A she-wolf of the North. Unwilling to give in to despair. She would fight, until her dying breath. And thus decided to deal with her sorrow as she had done before – on the kingsroad, in the woods around the Gods Eye and at Harrenhal. Turning it into something that suited her better. Anger. Determined and deadly.

Gendry wanted her away from Barra. Fine! She would retreat. For now. At least, then he couldn’t belittle and patronise her anymore. And she would fully exploit that! But first she needed to make sure, he was sound asleep. He had tried to fool her in the morning, playing to be at sleep, when he was not. When she had tried to steal a kiss. As if she couldn’t tell the difference! As if she wouldn’t know his slight snoring by now. No, she needed to be sure now, and hence didn’t move until she heard it – through Bobby’s ears.

It didn’t take long to gather her few things, but the others needed the rest. So, she kept watch for another two hours, before she saddled up her steed and woke Hot Pie. Leading him across the clearing, away from Jenna and Gendry.
“What’s going on?” he asked sleepy, until he saw her saddled up steed, “You’re leaving?!” he stared at her in disbelief.
“I have to!” she said, feeling the lump in her throat grow again.
“Arry, no!” Hot Pie pleaded, suspecting instantly Gendry had to be involved somehow, "Whatever he did or said, he didn’t mean it! Not really.”
“Yes, he did.” she objected, feeling tears well up again.
“No, please, Arry. Please, stay!”
“I can’t.” she objected heavy-heartedly.
“I’ll hit him, if you want.” Hot Pie claimed, “He’ll kill me afterwards, but I’d do it!”
Arya hugged him at that, grateful for his loyalty and friendship, “Thank you, Hot Pie! But there’s no need for that. He did nothing wrong. It’s my fault. I kept secrets from him. From both of you! For far too long.” she explained, her voice breaking.
“What do you mean?” Hot Pie frowned.
And she made him sit down next to her, leaning against a tree trunk.

“I wasn’t honest with you, about who I am.” she began, “My name’s not just Arya. It’s Arya Stark.”
Hot Pie nodded, “Okay…”
Seeing, he still hadn’t processed that information, she continued carefully, “Of Winterfell, and my brother’s Robb Stark.”
At that his eyes went wide, “The Young Wolf!?” he asked baffled.
“Yes.”
“You’re saying the king in the North is your brother!?” he questioned in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“Seven hells! Then what’re you doing here? With us? Why aren’t you with him?” he stammered bewildered.
“Guess, why we’re heading to Riverrun?”
“Oh, right…”

Arya wasn’t in a hurry to leave the three people, who had become her family as much as the one she had been born to. They were her pack, too. Therefore, she took all the time needed to explain to her friend what had happened. Ever since Robert Baratheon had come to Winterfell. He needed to know … to understand. And Hot Pie patiently listened. Even when she told him about the wolves, and the skinchanging and Bran’s greenseeing. Like most outsiders, he had difficulties to understand how the skinchanging worked, but he didn’t freak out. He had matured so much since the kingsroad. She had realised it before at Harrenhal, but it still amazed her, considering the naïve fool he had once been.

“But I don’t get why you've to leave now? In the middle of the night.” Hot Pie eventually said, “Did your brother send some escort to get you?”
“No. But it’s the best for Barra, if I don’t stay any longer.” she retorted.
“Doubt that!” he disagreed, “She’ll cry now as much as she'd do in Riverrun. You’re her mother!”
“No, Hot Pie, I’m not. Mhaegen was.” Arya countered, her voice breaking again, “Don’t you understand!? She can’t be calling me ‘mummy’ in Riverrun. If she does, people would assume Gendry had dishonoured me.”
“But he hasn’t.” he retorted, “Or has he!?”
“No…” she snapped at him, “You know he wouldn’t do that!”
Hot Pie cocked his brow at that, stating, “I know, he doesn’t want to sire any bastards.”
“But that’s exactly what Barra would be called! My bastard. And if Robb dies childless, her life would be in danger. Because people would think, she could’ve a claim to the Northern throne after me. A better one than some ambitious noble lords, with only distant blood ties to House Stark.”
“That’s quite fucked up.” Hot Pie remarked overwhelmed.
“Yeah, beyond fucked up, I’d say.” Arya agreed, “So, you understand why I’ve to leave?”
Hot Pie nodded.

They had sat a while in silence then, until Hot Pie suddenly asked, “One thing, why didn’t you tell him earlier?”
“Why don’t you tell Jenna?” Arya countered, locking eyes with him.
“Well, I… um, I don’t want to lose her!” Hot Pie stammered red-faced, “You know, her friendship …”
“And there you have your answer.” Arya sighed, “First, I didn’t trust him enough and once I did, it was already too late.”
She got up then, and offered him a hand to pull him up as well.
“Where will you go?” Hot Pie questioned, obviously concerned.
“Not far. Just out of sight. But you can’t tell Gendry!” she insisted and instructed her friend, “If anything happens and you need help, tell Storm to get me. He knows where to find me.”
Hot Pie frowned uncertain.
“Trust me! I’m keeping an eye on you.” she assured and told him, “So, all you’ve to do is, keep Gendry from doing something stupid, like looking for me. You can’t let him do that. He needs to focus on Barra and you and Jenna now.”
Hot Pie only nodded, obviously bothered by the thought to have to keep Gendry in check.
“He knows Nymeria’s coming. So just tell him, I’m with her.” Arya appeased, “And don’t let him take you anywhere else but Riverrun, that’s northwest from here. Don’t let him fool you!”
Hot Pie nodded again, slightly relieved.
“You all find good work there and you can stay as long as you like.” Arya promised, “And if not, I’ll provide you with an escort to wherever you want.”
“But what if you need help!?” Hot Pie burst out.
“Don’t worry, Nymeria will keep me safe.” she placated, “But if I should need help, then Bobby and Storm will let you know.”

She hugged him then again, “Thank you, Hot Pie. For everything. You deserve a knighthood, for what you did for me. And I'll make sure you get it!” she vowed and kissed his cheek.
Before she let go of him, to sneak to Gendry and Barra to kiss them goodbye. Though, once she turned around again, she found Hot Pie still standing there on the edge of the clearing – absolutely stunned. Until she mounted her steed and rode past him, whispering, “Don’t wait until it’s too late!”

Chapter Text

They had reached the Trident two days ago, and had since been following it upstream towards Riverrun, where Hot Pie and Jenna insisted they wanted to go. Even though, Gendry technically was still in charge of their group, he suddenly was the outvoted one now. Who had seen that coming? Well, of course it was no surprise to see Jenna side with Hot Pie – they had been friends, long before Gendry and Arya had eventually accepted her into their group. But still it felt odd, to suddenly have them tell him what to do. After Hot Pie had followed his and Arya’s lead for so long.

And even though, Jenna had helped them with Barra for several fortnights now, Gendry had still mainly seen her as Hot Pie’s friend, only part of their group because of him. Not really one of them. However, that had begun to change, once Arya had left. And not only because Gendry was ashamed of his behaviour, then.

He had been so mad at Hot Pie for letting Arya go without warning him. He had been barely able to restrain himself from punching his friend that night. And had only realised what he had all said, once Hot Pie’s fist had collided with his jaw. Jenna had gasped in shock at that, while he and Hot Pie had only stared at one another wide-eyed. The girl had regained her poise first and had placed a hand on Gendry’s forearm, to make him let go of Hot Pie’s collar. He had stepped back ashamed then, apologising to both of them. His fucking fury had gotten the better of him again – and had made him feel even more lost and alone throughout the following days. Barra had been the only one he had really talked to then, the only one who had made him smile and laugh. Yet, as soon as she had fallen asleep, he had transformed into a sullen mute, only talking when absolutely necessary.

Until about a fortnight later, he had found out, he hadn’t actually ruined Hot Pie’s and Jenna’s friendship in his irrational state. Rather the contrary, it had seemed. Once he and Hot Pie had bathed in a stream, his friend had enquired about his jaw.
“It’s fine again. Don’t worry.” Gendry had growled then.
“I don’t. You deserved it, you were an arse!” Hot Pie had retorted amused.
“Yeah, and I’m sorry for that.” he had flushed again, all but proud of himself.
“No need for that!” Hot Pie had chuckled, “Well, for calling me ‘a fucking idiot’ and claiming I’d blurt out Arry’s secret just to impress Jenna, you should be! But not for calling her my girlfriend.”
Gendry had looked at him in surprise, “Wait … are you saying—”
“Yeah, exactly that!” Hot Pie had grinned, causing Gendry to genuinely smile at him for the first time since their fight and clap his friend’s shoulder.

However, if Hot Pie hadn’t told him, it probably would have taken him a while to notice his relationship with Jenna had changed. They had tried to be considerate of him, had probably thought, he couldn’t bear to see them happy while he was miserable. They were wrong. He had even told Hot Pie, he wouldn’t mind. But the lad had only patted his back, giving him this annoying compassionate look again. He didn’t mind! He was used to seeing other people happy when he was not. But most of all, Hot Pie and Jenna didn’t remind him of what he had lost. Not really. They were so … different. Way too calm and in chime. Gendry didn’t want what they had. He wanted bickering and ranting! He wanted ever annoying pain-in-the-arse Arya Stark. For him and Barra to just get their favourite person back.

But she was gone. For good now. Once Nymeria had stopped carrying game to their camp, Gendry hadn’t had to wait for the following night to know the pack had left. Having hundreds of wolves lurking around, hadn’t exactly gone unnoticed. Even though, they had only ever got to see Nymeria, they had still seen the tracks in the surrounding woods and meadows and had heard their howling. So, he had precisely known when they had left. And so had she. It was for the best, Gendry told himself, when he watched Barra sleep. Fortunately, the little one was used to stay the nights with him, and so mainly yearned for Arya during the days, when it was easier to distract her from her sorrow. Gendry tried to compensate the gap Arya had left, as good as he could. And teased Barra to not make him regret spoiling her now. But in truth, he wondered how many moon’s turns it would take for her to stop asking about Arya – stop missing her. Would she manage before he could? Hopefully! For her sake.

A sennight after the wolves had left, they had spotted the burned ruins of a farm at the Trident’s southern shore. And after finding carrots and cabbages in the half overgrown garden, they had decided to stop there for a break. They had known they were taking a risk, then. But with Nymeria no longer providing them with game, they had felt they couldn’t let a chance like that slip. And the stupid idiot that he was, Gendry had even suggested to go hunting, while his friends harvested the crops during Barra’s midday nap – so they wouldn’t need to eat their freshly refilled supplies right away. Bloody fool!

He hadn't been long gone, but was already deep in the woods once he heard the singing. Fuck. He didn’t wait to locate it. Barra! was the only thought Gendry had, and he ran. Back to the farm, as fast as he could. But he wasn't fast enough, and heard bellowing laughter even before he reached the treeline.
“Even your dog knows you stand no chance!” a man’s voice roared, while Gendry snuck closer.
“Come on, lad, be reasonable, lay down your sword.” another voice suggested. Fuck.
“I don’t think so!” Hot Pie retorted, but the shrill tone in his voice gave his panic away.
“It’s no use anyway, in case you haven’t noticed I’m holding a bow here.” a third man mocked. Fuck.
“That’s good for you! But what makes you think you’re the only archer here!?” Hot Pie countered boldly, surprising Gendry. So, it was just one bowman.
“Maybe your frightful trembling, lad.” the first voice snorted.
“You’ll find out soon enough, we’re not bluffing.” Jenna countered, giving him time to sneak closer. Good girl.
But the men only laughed.

When Gendry finally reached the treeline, he saw Hot Pie in front of the cottage wall, shielding Jenna with Barra in her arms and Bobby at their side, snarling. Where was Storm!? But he had no time to wonder about that. There were three ragged looking men standing on the river road, with only a torched crop field separating them from his friends. Robbers. One tall and broad with a bushy beard, wearing armour and a helmet, though, his yellow hooded cloak stood out the most. He had his hand resting threateningly on his longsword’s hilt. A soldier. The other, at least ten years older, thinning hair and smaller. No armour, but a belt full of throwing knives, carrying a woodharp.The singer. The third one, leaner and younger than the others, probably only a couple years older than Gendry. The archer. Holding a bow, six arrows standing in the ground before him, waiting to be notched. Fuck. They were in trouble!

“Come on, lad, you don’t want to do this!” the singer called, once the soldier stepped forth.
But so did Bobby, positioning himself in front of Hot Pie now, who flexed his fingers on his sword’s hilt. Gendry had resumed teaching him sword fighting, but against pisscloak here, he wouldn't stand a chance. Gendry wasn’t even sure he would, all about the man said battle-hardened. Craven! He thought and notched an arrow, intent to protect his little family. But he didn’t even get to aim at their archer. Quicker than he had thought possible, had the man notched and loosened an arrow at him, hitting his left shoulder. It pierced through his chainmail and padding as if it weren’t even there, and bow and arrow dropped from his grip, as Gendry sank to his knees. A pang like he had never felt before spread through his body.
And the archer shouted into his direction, “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t see you— Fuuuuck!”
The breath-taking pain had kept Gendry distracted, until he heard the archer’s pained outburst. Looking up, he saw an arrow sticking in his shoulder now, too. What the—

“Pity, you didn’t see me, arsehole.” Gendry heard her shouting. This can't be … 
His eyes went wide, as she emerged from the opposite treeline. With Storm right behind her, darting towards him over the field at full speed. 
Her next arrow now pointed at the soldier, “And you, pisscloak, step away from my dog!” Arya snarled, making Gendry chuckle and regret it immediately.
She gave the scowling man a wide berth and moved towards Gendry. Who clenched his jaw in pain and got up, drawing his sword, before he stepped forth from the woods himself.
“Well, children, I think, this seems to be a little misunderstanding here. We mean you no harm—” the singer appeased.
“No harm!? You shot him!” Arya fumed and nodded at Gendry.
“He was about to shoot us.” the archer retorted unapologetic.
“Should think about that before you go around, threatening children.” Gendry hissed and walked towards Arya, with Storm at his heels.
“True.” the singer admitted. “But thing is, we asked your friends nicely—”
“Liar!” Hot Pie snarled, “You threatened to loosen arrows over the wall!”

When he finally stood next to her, Arya quickly side-glanced at his shoulder, “How bad is it?”
“Hurts like shit.” Gendry growled, “But probably nothing severe.”
“Listen, lassie—” the singer tried again, seeing Arya’s arrow pointing at himself – now that the soldier was far enough away.
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped.
“Listen, girl, your companion’s injured—”
“I’m just fine! Thanks.” Gendry lied.
“… and so is our archer here.” the singer ignored him, “They both need treatment. There’s an inn not far ahead, kept by some friends of ours—”
“Good for you.” Arya snorted sarcastically.
“We could get them both patched up there, and share some ale and bread instead of fighting one another.” the singer offered.
“Fuck off!” Gendry snarled, “Think, we'd follow you to your friends, so you can finally outnumber and rob us?”
“Listen, boy, unlike you apparently, I’ve been shot before.” the archer belittled him cockily, “Believe me, what’s awaiting us tonight ain’t gonna be pretty.” 
I know that, you damn fucker! Gendry thought and glared at the scumbag.

“How far!?” Arya demanded.
Making Gendry turn his head abruptly, “You’re not actually considering this?” he whispered in disbelief.
But she ignored him.
“About two miles upstream, a league at most.”
“No! We’re not going anywhere with them. We don’t even know whose side they’re on!” Gendry announced for everyone to hear.
“We’re king’s men, boy.” the archer snorted.
“Which king’s!?” Arya retorted, “There’s a king in every fucking corner of the realm now.”
“King Robert.” the soldier glared at her.
“The old drunk!?” Gendry snorted bewildered, “I’ve news for you, he’s dead. Killed by a boar.”
“Aye, and more’s the pity.” the singer said, “But we still serve our cause.”
“Which is!?” Arya demanded warily.
“Protecting the smallfolk in the Riverlands.” the singer claimed.
“I’m smallfolk, well done protecting!” Gendry huffed disdainful.
“Listen, lad, girl, we could’ve killed your friends and your dogs, long before the two of you arrived.” the singer stated, “But we didn’t. Why’s that?”
“Our young mate here’s not one to miss his target, he’s the best shot in the realm.” the soldier clapped the archer on his good shoulder.
Making Arya now snort disdainful.
“Aye, your boyfriend isn’t still standing by accident.” the archer smirked.
“Same goes for you!” she hissed, ignoring the boyfriend-tease.

“So, nobody wants to kill anyone here? Well, that’s good news, I’d say.” the singer sounded cheerful and suggested, “How about we start anew? I’m Tom of Sevenstreams, but Tom Sevenstrings is what they call me, or Tom o’ Sevens. This great lout with the brown teeth is Lem, short for Lemoncloak. It’s yellow, you see, and Lem’s a sour sort. And the young fellow here’s Anguy, or Archer as we like to call him. And the three of us would like to invite the five of you to join us at our friend Sharna’s inn.”
Gendry side-glanced at his friends, realising they were about to accept, “You can’t seriously—” he whispered alarmed.
“You need treatment, and you need it now!” Arya hissed.
Her piercing scowl told him she had made up her mind. She would take the risk, dragging him there, if she needed to. So, he only rolled his eyes.
“Now, who are you?” Lem demanded.
“I’m Jenna.”
Gendry rolled his eyes again.
“And I’m Hot Pie.”
And again.
“Good for you. It’s not every day I meet a lad with such a tasty name.” Tom chuckled, clearly thinking Hot Pie was fooling him. “And what would your friends be called, Mutton Chop and Squab?”
“Squab’s fine by me.” Arya snorted, showing she still didn’t trust them.
“And I’m the Bull.” Gendry eventually growled, glaring at the three men.
“And the little one?” Tom asked curiously.
“… is none of your business!” Arya and Gendry snarled together.
“Fine.”
“Now, the three of you will lead the way!” Arya demanded.
“Fine, as well.” Tom assured.
“Fine.” Gendry hissed, “You can start walking, we’ll catch up.”
And Tom bowed to him mockingly, “Don’t forget to bring that cabbages and carrots.”

Gendry had thought about breaking the arrow shaft off, to be able to fight properly, if necessary. But then realised, that might cause more damage than good, so he didn’t touch the arrow and carefully climbed onto the farm ruins and from there onto horseback, while Hot Pie retrieved his bow and Jenna helped wrapping the still sleeping Barra to Arya’s chest.
“Let’s go, find that inn!” Arya stated, once she returned on her mount, “Before this one falls off the horse.”
Gendry snorted at her tease, yet couldn’t help but smile once he followed her on his steed. She wasn’t gone.

The three men waited for them behind the next road bend, but the four of them kept warily their distance.
No matter Tom’s efforts to engage them in conversation, “That’s some nice mounts you’ve there. How did you get them?” he interrogated.
“They’re ours, that’s all you need to know.” Gendry snarled, noticing Lem’s greedy look.
“Sure.” Tom chuckled.
“Is he always so sullen, or only when shot?” Anguy winked at Arya, making Gendry clench his jaw.
“We prefer sullen over talkative.” she scoffed.
“Then you should get along finely with our Lem here.” Anguy teased.

“Do you know any songs then? I’d dearly love someone to sing with, that I would.” Tom tried again, “Lem can’t carry a tune and our longbow lad only knows marcher ballads, every one of them a hundred verses long.”
“We sing real songs in the marches.” Anguy boasted.
“Singing’s stupid. Singing makes noise.” Arya huffed and claimed, “We heard you a long way off. We could’ve killed you.”
“There are worse things than dying with a song on your lips.” Tom teased.
And Lem grumbled, “These are our woods, if there were Lions or Wolves hereabouts, we’d know.” making Gendry roll his eyes once more.

He made his horse fall back then, and Arya immediately halted hers, “Are you alright?” she glanced worried at his shoulder.
“Yeah, fine. Just don’t want to listen to that horseshit any longer.”
She smiled relieved, and was about to move her horse closer to Hot Pie and Jenna again.
“Wait, ride with me. ” Gendry burst out, “You know, like old times … on the kingsroad.”
Yet, she only nodded, reluctant, and Gendry soon came to regret his suggestion. The rest of the way had been indeed like old times. Really old times, before she had started talking, when she still had ignored him, that old times.

So, in the end he was actually glad when the inn, a two storey building at the Trident’s riverbank, came into sight. It even looked friendly, almost homey – with the whitewashed upper storey, slate roof and smoking chimney. It didn’t look at all like an outlaw lair, or as if Lannister or Bolton forces were lurking around. Looks can be deceptive, Gendry thought, unwilling to give up his wariness. And was glad, when Arya announced they would leave their horses saddled up and guarded by the dogs, until she would say otherwise. 

The three outlaws waited for them outside the stables.
“What took you so long to get off that horse, boy?” the archer teased, “I might be dying here—”
“Was hoping for it.” Gendry growled, scowling at him.
Tom chuckled, “Let’s get that arrow out of you, before you turn as sour as Lem.”
His yellow-cloaked companion only grunted, before they walked through the inn’s door. While Arya signalled them to stay behind, before she entered herself, a hand on Needle’s hilt and the other ready to grab one of her hidden daggers – yet Barra still wrapped to her chest. Gendry didn’t like it, but they needed to be able to ride off quickly if this were a trap.

However, so far it wasn’t. Arya returned an instant later, waving them to come in.
“I did.” they heard her proclaim, once they entered the common room.
The three outlaws were seated at a table at the back of the room, where a tall ugly woman with a knobby chin inspected Anguy’s shoulder, bursting into laughter just then.
“I see! Once again, our Archer couldn’t keep his hands to himself, huh? What a surprise?” the woman snorted, not even looking up from the wound, “Well done, girl.”
Arya looked baffled, “No, I shot him, because he shot him.” she nodded at Gendry, now standing next to her.
The woman cast them a glance and laughed again, “I like her already, Anguy, paying you back in your own coin …”
She was fumbling around the archer’s wound now and Anguy hissed in pain, but still mocked, “Mayhap I should marry her then, hm?”
Gendry clenched his fists, and hissed in pain himself.
“What is it?” Arya worried.
“Nothing.” he growled.
“Dream on, Anguy.” the woman snorted and Gendry silently agreed.
While a man in a stained apron with a lumpy face and yellowish skin came up the cellar steps. Great, they were outnumbered!
“Husband, get the lads and their guests here some ale and boil me two kettles of water.” the woman yelled, coming towards them now, “And you, handsome, come here!” She grabbed Gendry’s good arm and forced him to sit down on the bench to their right. “No need to be afraid, old Sharna knows what she’s doing.” the woman assured, causing Gendry to wince as her finger pushed through the hole in his attire to examine his injury, but he was determined not to hiss like that bloody Marcher.
“That chainmail of yours is blocking my sight, but the amount of bleeding and the fact that you’re still standing tells me the wound’s not severe. You’re lucky Anguy’s a good shot.” the innkeep remarked. Lucky!? There was an arrow sticking out of his shoulder! Before Sharna then turned to Arya, sitting next to him now. “I’m not in the habit of serving ale to toddlers, and there’s no cows for milk and the river water tastes of war, with all the dead men drifting downstream. But I’ll send the boy to a spring in the woods, only that’s gonna be another hour.” the woman said, studying the still sleeping Barra.
“We refilled our wineskins this morning, she’ll survive.” Gendry growled.
And the innkeep chuckled, “She’s yours, isn’t she?” Gendry only nodded.

“Alright then.” Sharna got louder again, “Both of you, upstairs then!” she nodded at him and Anguy. “And you, Lem, as well, I need you to hold them down.”
“Can’t we do it here?” Gendry questioned alarmed, unwilling to leave Arya and the others out of sight.
“Absolutely not, lad, people eat and drink here, you’re not bleeding all over my taproom.”
He swallowed and reluctantly got up.
Only to see Anguy wink at him, “Are you already pissing yourself, boy?”
“What’s your goddamn problem!?” Gendry snarled.
But Arya stepped in his way, hissing, “Leave it!”
“Nothing, I just find it hilarious how she leads you around by the nose, Bull boy.”
Her head whipped around, “I swear, if you don’t shut your damn mouth, I’m going to finish what I started!”
“Aye, Anguy, shut it!” Sharna bellowed, “The lad here’s more man than you’ll ever be, at least he assumes responsibility for his bastard.”
“She’s not a bastard!” Arya and Gendry objected reflexively.
Which earned them doubtful looks by both the innkeep and the outlaws. Damnit. Denying it in unison and both flushing afterwards, looked naturally all but convincing.
“Even better,” Sharna snorted amused, “but now let’s get you two squabblers upstairs.” She shoved him forward towards the staircase at the other end of the room, but then stopped again in her track, “And where the heck do you think you’re going?” the woman scolded, making Gendry turn to see his three friends following them.
“Where he goes, we go.” Arya proclaimed stubbornly, staring the old innkeep down and making Gendry smile.
“Fine, but if I see anyone fainting apart from them two fools, you’re out at once.” Fainting? Oh gods, please, no!

But it got even worse, when Sharna led them to a room with three beds, “So, who’s first?”
“He!” Arya demanded, nodding at Gendry. Seriously!? 
“Nah, the old man can go first, he was so afraid of dying just a moment ago. Can’t have that happen on my watch, can I?” Gendry snorted, unwilling to let that arrogant fucker see him faint.
“You stupid bull-headed idiot.” Arya hissed, but he scowled at her unyielding.
“I know what you’re doing, boy.” Anguy interrupted them amused, “You don’t want your girl think you weak … or is it perhaps me you fear?” the archer winked at him and lay down swiftly on a bed, “Sharna, love, work your magic, please.”
“Sure.” the innkeep snorted. “As soon as you're done with your little pissing contest here.”
“Aye, little indeed.” Lem grumbled. Fucking outlaws.

Gendry sat down sullenly on the second bed, while Sharna carefully cut the fabrics of Anguy’s jerkin and tunic, to remove them.
“You realise, he’s hoodwinking you?” Arya whispered, sitting down next to Gendry.
“I know… ” he growled sulky, “But that son of a bitch is just yanking my chain.”
“Not just yours.” she claimed, but smiled.
He had yearned to see that smile again. And now that he did, his responding smile soon faltered into a longing stare. Yet, she couldn’t hold his gaze and averted hers quickly.
She seemed even relieved when Sharna addressed her, “Girl, what arrowhead did you use?”
“Bodkin.”
“No barbs?”
Arya shook her head.
“Good. Within a moon’s turn you’ll be as good as new, Anguy.” Sharna proclaimed and inquired, “And what am I about to find in his shoulder?”
“I guess, we’re about to find out?” the archer smirked at him.
But Arya moved snap-like to his bed and grabbed the arrow shaft, “Are we?” she snarled.
The Marcher hissed in pain and reached for the arrow, to keep her from twisting or ripping it out, “Bodkin, no barbs, I swear!”
“Well, look who’s led around by the nose now?” Gendry snorted amused. 

“If you two go on like that, I’ll just rip those arrows out and be done with it.” Sharna scolded and shoved a wooden stick into Anguy’s mouth, for him to bite on, and threw another in Gendry’s direction.
Before Arya returned to sit on the edge of his bed, followed by Hot Pie and Jenna now.
And when the innkeep and Lem were distracted by Anguy’s pained grunting, Arya whispered, “We leave as soon as you’re well enough.” She squeezed his hand, yet didn't meet his glance.

Sharna had soon removed the arrow from Anguy’s shoulder, rinsed and stitched the wound together. Before she made the archer sit up again, to wrap some bandage around his shoulder and his chest.
“Out of the way now, children!” she demanded as soon as she was done, and Lem followed her to Gendry's bed.
The innkeep cut his leather jerkin and removed it, before she shoved the wooden stick into his mouth and told Lem to clip the arrow’s shaft with a tong, while she held it firmly in place. Once the soldier was done, Sharna helped Gendry out of the chainmail, before she cut through the padded fabric and his shirt underneath, removing them as well.
“And he gets even more handsome!” The woman teased, making Gendry turn beet-red. “I’m only jesting, lad.” she appeased chuckling.
He cast an embarrassed glance at Arya, but she had turned her back on him, playing with Barra’s hands, it seemed.

And Sharna handed him the wooden stick once more and made him lay down, before she widened the entrance wound with her knife. Fuuuuuck. Gendry barely managed to suppress his cry of pain. And suddenly fainting didn’t sound so bad. But he didn’t. Not even when her finger slid into his flesh alongside the shaft – to check whether a vessel was bleeding or a bone got punctured. Gendry squinted his eyes shut, spilling tears as he grunted and panted, but he didn’t faint.
“Don’t!” he heard Sharna suddenly warn and opened his eyes reflexively. “Or do you want him to break your fingers?” she scolded Arya, who had attempted to hold his hand.
When their eyes met, the innkeep used the opportunity and pulled the arrow out. Fuuuuuuuck.
“There, you go.” the woman proclaimed and dismissed Lem, “Tell Husband to ready the stew!”
Like before with Anguy, Sharna rinsed the wound and stitched him up.

“Doopy?” Barra mewled suddenly, wiping at her eyes.
“I’m here.” Gendry appeased.
Yet, realising she wasn’t strapped to his chest, she looked up and her eyes went wide in surprise, “Mummy!”
“Yes, I’m here too.” Arya cast Gendry a nervous glance, before she kissed Barra’s cheek and removed some strands from her face.
The little one stared at her, barely blinking. As if she were afraid, Arya would be gone again if she did.
“So, the little dormouse finally decided to join us, and just in time for some stew.” Sharna cast them a side-glance, while she wrapped the bandage around Gendry.

“You did well, didn’t faint, I’m impressed.” Anguy teased, grinning down at him.
“What're you doing out of bed!?” Sharna demanded outraged, “I don’t wanna see you on your feet again before the morrow, neither of you.”
“But—” Gendry attempted to object.
“No ‘but’, it’s bed rest for the both of you.” the woman snarled, “I won’t have you halfwits wander around in a fever.” Fuck.
Gendry huffed.
“Disagreeing, handsome?” Sharna shot him a warning glance, “No? Good.” she got off the bed and was about to leave the room.
“Wait!” Anguy protested dumbfounded, “You make me share a room with them?”
“Aye, the other rooms are for our paying guests.” Sharna scoffed, “So, unless you’ve got some copper—”
“What guests? It’s war.” Anguy stated indignantly, “We’re your only guests.”
“I’m not wasting another clean room on you lot.” Sharna bellowed and turned to them, “No offence, children. But I know these guys.”

“I need privacy!” Anguy countered displeased, sounding downright pathetic.
And the innkeep raised an amused eyebrow, “That’s what the bed curtains are for.”
Gendry would have burst into laughter, if he hadn’t felt like protesting himself.
“What if a lady friend comes visiting tonight?” the Marcher went on.
“Are you already feverish?” Sharna snarled, “Im running a respectable house, no lady visits.”
“And what’re they still doing here then?” he pointed at Arya and Jenna, raising a questioning brow.
“Them two share the spare bed with the little one, closing the curtains behind themselves. And the other lad takes the floor, just like Lem and Tom will.” Sharna proclaimed and stared each of them down.
Hot Pie and Jenna only nodded speechless, while Arya and Gendry exchanged a glance – to see what the respective other was thinking. But Sharna didn’t wait to hear further objections and slammed the door shut behind herself. Damn.
“Now I really regret I only aimed for your shoulder, boy.” Anguy huffed sulky.
“Yeah, same here.” Arya retorted, probably fearing Gendry would go for the next round.
But for once, he agreed with the guy.

Jenna helped to unwrap Barra from Arya’s chest and put her on the bed with Gendry. But once Arya was about to see to the dogs and horses, the little one cried blue murder. Fuck. All assurance from both Arya and Gendry, that she would come back, didn’t shut her up. Therefore, Hot Pie and Jenna offered to see to the animals, but Arya wouldn’t have it. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Least of all, with Anguy there, who already was bored to death, and hence watched their every move curiously. So, in the end only the three girls left, since even Hot Pie and Jenna seemed to think, they couldn’t leave Gendry alone in the same room with the Marcher. And Gendry saw his suspicion confirmed, when Anguy tasked Hot Pie to get them each a pint of ale, rather than sitting useless on his hands. The baker’s boy cast them both a worried glance before he reluctantly stepped out of the room, and he returned quicker than Gendry had expected.
“How about a toast?” Anguy proposed, raising his pint into their direction, “To… misery loves company?” Unbelievable.

However, before nightfall, Hot Pie had been downstairs several more times to get them refills. And Gendry recalled, at some point he had wondered where the girls had gone. Their girls, and his girls in particular. Hot Pie had then claimed, they would have had their stew in the common room and would have played with Barra outside. And apart from that, Gendry only recalled thinking at one point that Anguy’s company wasn’t so bad after all, though, by then he obviously must have been already deep in the cups.

When Gendry woke a few hours later, he shivered with cold, despite that the embers in the hearth still glowed. And his head was almost the same throbbing mess as his shoulder. Something was wrong. And where was Barra? Hot Pie? Jenna? Arya! Wait, why was he in a bed? And why only in undergarments? Before he remembered again what had happened the previous day. He got up then and almost tripped over the snoring Hot Pie. Since when was he snoring so loud? It was killing his head. No, wait, that wasn’t Hot Pie. Someone else was the one snoring so loud. Fucker. Gendry stumbled to the bed that had been empty before, its curtains were closed now. Only one-handed as he was now, he couldn’t find where to pull them open, so he scrunched them angrily up, to see who was sleeping in the bed. It was them, Barra, Arya and Jenna, all sleeping fully dressed and Arya grasped Needle with her spare hand. Thank the gods.

Yet, when Gendry was just about to let go of the curtain again, Arya turned around, “What're you doing?” she inquired sleepy.
“Nothing, I just didn’t know where you were, is all.” he growled.
At which, she bolted up onto her knees, placing her palm against his forehead, before she turned back around to shake Jenna awake, “You need to take Barra, he’s feverish.”
The girl but nodded drowsily and pulled the toddler into her arms.
“Here, my dagger, keep it under your pillow.” Arya instructed further, before she got out of bed. Grabbing her blanket and Needle with one hand and Gendry’s forearm with the other, she dragged him back to his bed.
”Get back in!” she ordered there and shook Hot Pie awake, which took longer than usual.
“I wasn’t sleeping!” Hot Pie burst out at last, “I’m awake.” he bolted upright and grabbed his sword, and his disorientated state suggested he was just as drunk as Gendry.
“No need for that.” Arya hissed, “Gendry caught a fever, we need to keep him warm, so get out of your armour.”
And while their friend fiddled himself clumsily out of his jerkin, chainmail and padded jack, Arya handed Gendry a cup of water, which he emptied in one go. So she refilled it once more, and unlaced her own jerkin and even her top underneath, which once had belonged to her grey dress, causing Gendry to gulp.
“Shut it and drink!” she hissed and scowled at him.
So, he drained the second cup and lay down on his good side, allowing Hot Pie to crawl into bed next to him,too close! He wasn’t that feverish.

But before he could object, Arya climbed over of them both and moved Gendry’s bad arm carefully to rest on his hip, before she covered them with their three blankets and nestled up to his chest. Not close enough. 
But still Gendry whispered, “You shouldn’t—”
“Now isn’t the time to discuss propriety. You’re sick, so we need to get your fever to break.” Arya hissed, “So, unless you want to be stuck here for another night, I suggest you shut up now and let us keep you warm, you stupid bull.”
At which the little protest that Gendry had managed to come up with faltered for good. At least— no, not at least, stupidly his wound kept him from embracing and pulling her closer that night. Leaving him nothing but to close his eyes and take in her scent, allowing it lull him back to sleep. He had missed it. Her.

The next thing he knew then, was how a fully dressed Hot Pie stormed into the room come morning, shouting, “Riders!” and disappearing down the stairs again. Fuck! 
Gendry bolted up and grabbed his sword, but was barely down the stairs, once Arya hissed, “Get dressed, you idiot! Hot Pie, help him!” 
Dress into what? Gendry wanted to counter, recalling how Sharna had cut all but his chainmail and trousers. But Hot Pie already motioned him to do as they were told. She really was leading him around by the nose. But ususally she was in the right to do so. Like last night, Gendry thought upon reentering their bedroom, where the Marcher in his sweat-soaked shirt now tried to dress himself alone.
“I see, you’re quite well this morning, Bull boy.” Anguy teased, “I wonder what possibly could’ve made your fever break so quick!?”
Yet, Gendry ignored his allusion this time.

Hot Pie brought him his trousers and helped him into one of his spare shirts.
Only when he handed him the padded pack, Gendry looked up surprised, “Who washed and mended it?”
“Sharna and the girls.” Arya!?
“I doubt this’s her work.” Gendry blurted, as Hot Pie helped him into the the thick fabric.
“No, Jenna’s and Sharna’s. But she helped washing. Sharna thought, she was ducking out until she saw the crooked stitches.” Hot Pie explained, while he tried to get Gendry back into the chainmail. But it was no use, Gendry couldn’t lift his left arm far enough, so he told his friend to just grab the rest of his clothes and they made for the stairs.

In hope when they emerged from the inn, they would find the girls already waiting on horseback. But only Jenna did so, staring perplexed at an approaching group of riders. More outlaws. Fucking great! And worse even, Arya seemed intend to face them on foot, with Barra strapped to her chest. Shit!
“Arry, no!” Gendry pushed Hot Pie aside and ran after her.
“Underfoot?” a bearded man with brown hair burst out.
Afore Arya called, “Harwin!”
That made Gendry stop in his track. She knew the man? 
“Gods, be good!” the man unhorsed at once and hurried towards her, “Arya Underfoot!” where he went down to one knee before her. He knew her! 
Her arms flung around the man’s neck, dumbfounding the man’s companions as much as Gendry.
“You know the lass, Harwin?” Tom inquired walking now past him, as the man returned Arya’s hug.
And Lem bellowed right behind, “That wench shot Anguy!”
“Did you, my lady?” Harwin pulled away from Arya, yet without a sign of anger or surprise, and she only shrugged.
“It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.” the Marcher shouted as he stepped from the inn.
“M’lady!? Who the fuck’s she supposed to be?” Lem growled disdainful.
“The Hand’s daughter.” Harwin got up, “Arya Stark, of Winterfell.” he proclaimed for all his companions to hear.

Great, Gendry thought sullenly, and Arya’s drooped head suggested, she was as happy about this public exposing as he was.
“You’re in trouble, Bull boy.” Anguy chirped gleefully, standing next to him now.
“Your grace?” Tom stammered perplexed, going down to his knee now as well.
And one by one the other men followed, even bigmouth Archer beside him. Until only he, Hot Pie and Harwin remained standing.
“Get to your knees, you fools—” Lem bellowed.
But Arya spun around, “Don’t you dare!” and snarled for everyone to hear, “Get up, all of you! And if you care for your lives, you never address me as such again. Yes, I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell. But I’m no damn lady and surely no fucking princess.”
The men looked at her bewildered and then at each other.
“Get up!” she repeated fuming, yet without success.
“As m’lady commands.” Gendry bowed grinning, which made her scowl at him. But seeing him pull Anguy back up onto to his feet then, turned her glare into a smile at once.
“She gave you an order.” he told at the archer smirking.
“I see why you like her,” Anguy whispered unimpressed, “but you’re still in trouble, big time.”

And as if he had heard his companion, Lem got up and charged right at him.
“Leave him be!” Arya commanded.
But Lem had Gendry already by the collar, making him hiss in pain at the sudden yank at his padded jack.
“I said, leave him be.” Arya snarled stepping next to them, pointing Needle at Lem’s throat.
But the lout ignored her, “You’re a dead man, Bull boy.”
“You’re the dead man!” Hot Pie countered, standing now across from Arya, mirroring her stance and pointing his blade at Lem, too.
“Brothers, this cheeky bastard here's doing the princess.”
“No, I’m not.”
“No, he’s not!” Arya and Hot Pie blurted simultaneously.
Nevertheless, Harwin studied her now questioning, “Arya?”
“He’s not! We’re not doing that.” she hissed, as the other men closed in on them.
“Who are you fooling, princess, he got you with child?” Lem snorted.

“I. said. I'm. no. fucking. princess.” Arya fumed and pressed Needle to the man’s skin, drawing blood now, “Just like I said, the little one’s none of your fucking business.”
“Oh, you mean the toddler?” Harwin nodded at Barra, finally understanding, “That’s not hers.”
“Yes, she is,” Lem disagreed stubbornly, “I heard her call her mummy—”
“And that proves what?” Gendry challenged, scowling at the man.
“Brothers, I assure you, Arya is not this child’s mother.” Harwin appeased, seeing the doubtful looks on the other men’s faces, “She can’t be …”
“How’d you know?” Lemoncloak questioned rigid, unwilling to let go of Gendry’s collar.
“Look at the child! How old is it? A year, or two?” Harwin went on.
“One and a half.” Gendry corrected in a growl.
“One, one and a half or two, it doesn’t matter,” Harwin retorted, “since Arya hadn’t yet flowered once I left King’s Landing.”

“What the fuck, that’s private business! Hers. Not yours.” Gendry exploded and wrenched himself free from Lem’s grip, ignoring the pain it caused his shoulder. “Nothing to discuss in public,” he shoved both men, “and least of all in front of you ragged lot—”
“You’re wrong, lad.” Harwin countered calmly, “Such is not private, when the king intended to betroth her to his son and heir. The whole court would’ve known—”
“But that gold-haired fucker wasn’t even his son!” Hot Pie spat now angrily, “He is.”dumbfounding the entire band as well as Gendry and Arya.
“Uh-oh…” Hot Pie realised too late, “Shouldn’t have said that, should I? Shit, sorry.”
“Well, this’s getting better and better,” Anguy burst into laughter, “Tom, is this really happening or is it just a fever dream of mine? Shame, if it were …”

Gendry regained his wits at that and grabbed Arya, “Hot Pie, we’re leaving.”
“No, you’re not.” the men stepped into their way, “She’s not.” they scowled at him. He knew it!
“What the fuck, Harwin?” Arya shouted furious, “Order your men to step aside.”
“You’re not in command here, princess.” Lem snorted disdainful, “And neither’s Harwin.”
“Who then?” she demanded livid.
“The lightning lord.” Sharna told them from the doorframe of the inn, “Lord Beric Dondarrion.” Seven hells.
“They’re the brotherhood, the ones the Mountain's men were looking for …” Hot Pie stammered aghast, losing his poise, and the men fully enjoyed it.
“Aye, we’re the brotherhood without banners, Bull boy.” the Marcher smirked now complacent.
They were captives once more.

Chapter Text

They undoubtedly wouldn’t have survived their hasty escape, if it hadn’t been for their wolves. It was them, who led their way through the pitch dark of the night. Who kept them on the road, away from slippery steeps and treacherous cliffs. And who kept them warm, once their bodies eventually refused to take another step. They didn’t dare to build any fire that first night and not the night after. Thus, even Shaggydog offered his warmth to the humans, but only begrudgingly, of course. As if he wanted them to know, to better not get used to him acting as if he had a soft spot. All his life, the black wolf had been busy to prove what a frightful creature he was. Be it by scaring someone as large as Hodor off, or by teaching boasting young guards a lesson. And in doing so, he clearly mirrored Rickon’s need, to prove he wasn’t the weakling of the litter.

But these couple of days out in the wild, with only cloaks to keep them warm, had showed them all, they weren’t as strong as they had thought themselves. It gave them an inkling of what winter would feel like, and how right Old Nan had been to call them summer children. They were of the North, and yet only now they began to understand what the North really was like – and it was only the end of summer. Sansa felt the cold creeping into her bones, as soon as she lay down. Only able to hold it at bay, by snuggling up to Lady like pup. And just days ago, she had thought herself a true Northern she-wolf. How wrong had she been. If it weren’t for Bran and Rickon, and the few companions who had escaped with them, Sansa would have long given in to crying into Lady’s furs like a babe. That was how she felt at night, nestled up to her wolf. Not even a wolf pup. Just a naked helpless babe, crying for her mother. She had never been in such desperate need of her mother’s warm embrace. Why couldn’t this all be just a nightmare? A nightmare she could wake from, to find her mother at her bedside, soothingly stroking her back.

But Sansa wasn’t dreaming. It was really happening. She knew that, whenever she woke from actual nightmares. Nightmares of what happened at Winterfell, after they had fled … how Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik and Mikken died in agony. Because she had refused to warn them of their fates. Because she had left them there to die – like the craven she was. Or nightmares of Theon catching up to them, telling her it all would have been a misunderstanding, that he actually brought the Ironborn to protect them, that they could return to Winterfell and once they did, he would slit Bran’s and Rickon’s throats, to punish her for their escape attempt. And nightmares of Arya finally returning home, unknowing of Theon’s betrayal, only to become his hostage in their stead. It was Lady’s soft nudges that woke her then, preventing the others from noticing her weakness.

She had to be strong! Or at least pretend to be. To look the leader, her brothers needed her to be. And so she did. Yet, she constantly feared, the others could see through the pretence. If the two guards, their last remaining forces, would see how weak and vulnerable she really was, what would they do? Would they only abandon them? Or betray them like Theon? In her mind, Sansa fought with herself. Constantly. At night, with her nightmares and remorse, for having abandoned their people – without even trying to fight for them. And throughout the days, she fought her own insecurity and doubts. To not let anyone see, she actually had no idea what she was doing. Robb had entrusted her with the safekeeping of their home and his people, and she had failed him miserably. She couldn't fail him again! She had to keep at least their baby brothers safe. And therefore, Sansa kept going. This was what Father and Robb and Jon and Arya expected of her now. Probably even Mother. And to her own disbelief, Sansa actually managed to keep the charade up – or maybe her companions only let her believe, they wouldn’t see her struggling. Thus, when they finally came across a group of mountain’s clansmen, Sansa felt relief wash over her, as if the weight of their entire world were lifted off her shoulders.

Almost a sennight after their escape, they met a group of ten riders, blazoning the Flint’s banner. Friends, not foes. And one of them even recognised them. Artos Flint, second son of their clan chief. He had been at Winterfell during old king Robert’s fateful visit. And his eyes went wide, once the three siblings and their wolves emerged from the treeline.
“My lady, my lords?!” he stammered, staring at them, before he remembered they were royalty now and bowed, “I mean, your graces.”
It turned out, they were a scouting party. Sent by their chief, after a raven had reached them, saying, Winterfell were under attack. At first, the riders couldn't believe that their famous ancestral home would have fallen to savage Ironborn. But hearing, Theon Greyjoy would have betrayed them, was all the explanation they needed.

”Bloody turncloak. Spineless traitor.” some of them growled, and those were the kinder names the clansmen had for the man, Sansa once thought of as family. Who had grown up with them, as if he were one of them. But Father took him from his home, and now he took ours in return, Sansa thought bitterly. It hurt, to realise their father hadn’t been without fail. He was wrong, raising them to treat Theon like a brother. He had been their captive, no matter how kind they had been towards him. And unlike Sansa and her siblings, Theon Greyjoy apparently never forgot that. He obviously never saw them as family. Or how else could he betray them like that? He had seen a chance to get back at his captors and he took it. And Sansa couldn’t say what hurt more, his betrayal or the fact that he managed to fool her like that.

Artos Flint offered to escort them to their chief’s holdfast. Assuring, they were safe there. Still, Sansa was glad to see, he ordered two of his men to continue their ride south. And Sansa and Bran asked them, to try to find out how the people in Winterfell and winter town were treated, and if anyone had been killed. Both siblings still hoped, not all of Jojen’s dream would come true.

The remaining eight clansmen offered them their horses.
“We’re hill clansmen, aye, but we’re not as savage as our reputation might say, your graces." Artos insisted, "We know our courtesies, as well as any Northerner, rest assured.”
“No horse for me! I’ve my own mount.” Rickon burst out, before anyone else could respond and climbed onto Shaggydog again.
“You’ve to forgive our baby brother. He and his wolf are the true savages here, constantly forgetting their manners.” Bran chuckled.
And Sansa added, “Unlike Rickon, we gladly accept your kind offer, my lord. Though, one steed will be enough for me and Bran, we can share.” 
“So can I and Jojen.” Meera assured.
And also Syrio and Osha chose to do so, to not steal all the clansmen’s horses. So, in the end only the two guards and Hodor refused to mount a steed. The guards probably thought honour forbid it and the latter clearly felt safer travelling on his own feet.
He shook his head and stomped his feet on the ground, mumbling upset, “Hodor, Hodor, Hodor.”
Until Bran appeased, “It’s alright, Hodor. You don’t have to ride, if you don’t want to.”
Making the gentle giant grin and reply with a content, “Hodor.”

About a fortnight later, they finally arrived at the Flint’s holdfast. Where Chief Torghen and his eldest son and heir Black Donnel greeted them in the yard, offering their keep as their shelter – as long as they would need it. Sansa knew, Flints and Starks were connected by blood, her great-grandmother Arya had been a Flint. And her father had always spoken very highly of the mountain clans, praising their honesty and loyalty. So, she addressed the chief now as ‘Lord Flint’ just like her father had done and curtsied, before she thanked him for his generous hospitality. While Bran made sure Rickon followed her lead, bowing before their hosts, alongside him and Jojen and Meera.

Then Black Donnel ordered servants to show Osha, Syrio and Hodor and the two guards to their quarters and offered to show the Starks and Reeds to their chambers himself. But once Sansa’s room turned out Donnel’s own chamber and Bran’s and Rickon’s as Artos’s, she felt embarrassed. Hence she told the man, they couldn’t accept such generosity, if it meant for their hosts to give up their own chambers. And assured, she could share a room with Meera, while Bran and Rickon could stay in Jojen’s chamber. Nevertheless, Donnel seemed somewhat offended by her refusal and argued, they couldn’t let princes and princesses sleep in lesser chambers than their own. But Bran quickly appeased, claiming after what happened in Winterfell, their wolves would probably want to sleep in the same rooms, and they wouldn’t want them to ruin such exquisite chambers. On that, Black Donnel gave in and even seemed relieved, his furniture wouldn’t fall prey to bored wolves. And called the maids to ready some hot baths for their guests.

Even though, Sansa longed for it, she suggested for Meera to bathe first. She needed to consult with Black Donnel and Lord Flint about their situation. And Donnel readily led her to his father’s solar. There they told her, after their scouting party had left, they would have had a raven from Cerwyn, saying, Ironborn would have taken Winterfell. But the Cerwyns couldn’t provide any information, how Ironborn raiders could have managed to take the keep in such a short time or what would have happened to the three Starks there. Until then two days ago, another raven would have come from Cerwyn, saying, according to winter town people, Theon Greyjoy would have killed all three Stark siblings, and that their burned corpses were hanging from the South Gate.

Sansa felt sick to the core. Could Theon really do this? Kill a random girl and two little boys? And could she have prevented it, if they’d stayed at Winterfell? Or would he have killed and burned her and her brothers then instead?
“Your grace, are you alright?” Black Donnel’s worried voice roused her from her thoughts.
“Oh, yes. I’m alright. Please, go on, my lords.” she wasn't alright. How could she ever tell Bran and Rickon about this!?
“So, once Halder came riding in this noon, saying, Artos would’ve found all three of you alive and well, with your wolves and even the Reeds at your heels, we began to hope again, your grace.” Chief Torghen explained, “But we didn’t dare to send word to the king, before we’d seen you with our own eyes.”
“Lord Flint, please tell me, you haven’t yet sent that raven to Robb!?” Sansa asked alarmed.
“Oh, no, your grace. We thought we’d wait, in case you’d want to tell the king yourself.” Donnel assured.
“Thank you, my lords. That’s indeed very thoughtful of you.” Sansa replied relieved.
“Of course, your grace.” Lord Flint went on, “And it’s not like southern ravens are common here in the hills. We clansmen usually have nothing to converse with those folks beyond the Neck. So you’re lucky it was our men, who found you. I’m not sure other clans have ravens to send south. They might need to send ravens to bigger houses first, to get word to the king.”

Although, the Flint and Black Donnel generously offered to aid them in any way they could, telling her their shared blood ties would demand no less of them, Sansa hesitated.
“My lords, I think this actually might be a good thing, that my brothers and I are presumed dead.” she said eventually. Just not for those poor souls hanging from the gate. Sansa tried to shut her guilty conscience up. If they were thought dead, no one would look for them. No one would hunt them, or try to use them as a pawn against Robb. “We could hide in the open, and no one would see us.” she explained.
But the two Flint men weren’t convinced.
“I’d think it a good idea, if your looks weren’t such a giveaway. Especially yours, Lady Sansa. You look so much like your mother.” Black Donnel said.
“Then it’s a good thing, looks can be changed.” she countered determined, as her plan took form in her mind.
But still the chief wasn’t convinced, “You’re young, your grace, you might not know that, yet, but grief can make a man do foolish things.” The Old Flint told her, “Our king needs his head clear and focussed on the war, to keep himself and his men alive. He might not be able to do that, if he mourns another loss.”

However, once Sansa told them, she of course wouldn’t want to keep Robb and her Lady Mother in the dark about their survival, they finally seemed to listen to her. And slowly began to take her serious. She ordered them, to add questions about Winterfell and the fates of the three Starks to all their correspondences with other Northern houses for a while. And even to send ravens to Winterfell. First, to ask Theon to release his Stark captives against a ransom. And later to beg him to release the corpses, so they could get a proper burial. Thus, no one would suspect that the Flints would know more about the Starks' whereabouts than others.
“I’ve to admit, Lady Sansa, you quite surprised me here.” The Old Flint eventually chuckled, “Keep on like that, and you might become a she-wolf like in the old days.” before Sansa left his solar to send her raven to Robb and Lady Catelyn to Riverrun.

They stayed for more than a moon’s turn with the Flint clan, to make sure, no search parties were looking for them anymore and to await the two scouts’ return. Sadly, they only confirmed what they had already known deep down in their hearts. Maester Luwin would have been stabbed, for sending ravens to the surrounding holdfasts during the attack. Their mother’s septon would have been drowned in a bucket, for calling the Ironborn’s god a false one. And Ser Rodrik would have been beheaded, as well as their master blacksmith, good old Mikken. Both, for publicly declaring their undying loyalty to House Stark. After that, the rest of Winterfell’s people would have given up their resistance and would serve Theon and his Ironborn now. But only in order to survive, winter town folks would have assured the Flint scouts. And there were hope, they said, Stark loyalists would gather troops to retake the stronghold and to drive the Ironborn back into the sea.

Hearing all this, made Sansa feel more conflicted than ever. She consulted Meera, Syrio and Osha, who all urged her not to give in to false hopes. They reminded her, her first and foremost duty were to keep Bran and Rickon safe. And that were not the case, if she or all three of them would return to Winterfell, before the holdfast were safely back in loyalists’ hands. Meera reminded her, the castle might withstand a siege for over a year. Yeah, she herself had made sure of that! Sansa knew, her advisors were right. But once she rode through the gate of the Flint’s holdfast – heading north, further away from Winterfell – she felt, as if she would abandon their people for a second time. The only difference was, this time she and her companions were actually prepared for the journey. Lord Flint and Black Donnel provided them with the warmest furs and clothes, supplies and strong horses and even a cart, so they wouldn’t have to leave Hodor behind. While Artos insisted on a twenty men strong escort, led by himself. And so, they rode north – disguised as a group of fur traders, who had hired a clansmen escort, after hearing Ironborn raiders roamed the North.

It took them more than two fortnights, before the Wall finally towered above the horizon. It was one thing, to read about the size of this giant rampart, constructed to protect the Seven Kingdoms from wildlings and giants and monsters of old times. Seeing it now with their own eyes, was something else entirely. On overcast days its top hid in the clouds and when the sun finally came through again, the Wall seemed to have grown another fifty or hundred feet.

Rickon was amazed the most, “Do you think Jon and Uncle Benjen will allow us to go up there?” their baby brother babbled, “I wonder what it feels like to touch the clouds.”
Reminding Sansa and Bran of the one secret, they had kept from him for almost a year now. Jon had sent them a raven then, saying, Benjen would have gone missing beyond the Wall. But had added, rangers sometimes would stay out there for several moon’s turns, and thus they shouldn’t give up hope, yet. Nevertheless, they hadn’t dared to tell Rickon, then. To not have him worry about another beloved family member.
And so Sansa was grateful, when Bran stepped in for her once more, “You know, with Uncle Benjen being a ranger—”
“First Ranger!” Rickon corrected stubbornly.
“Yes, First Ranger. But that means, he might not be at Castle Black once we get there.” Bran continued. And upon seeing Rickon’s disappointed expression, he quickly added, “But I’m sure, they would let us go to the top anyway. Maybe we could offer to man one of their posts for a little while. Don’t you think?” Bran distracted Rickon successfully, appeasing Sansa’s remorse for a little while longer.

When Mole’s Town came into view, they decided to set up camp behind some hills south of the village, to shield themselves against preying eyes from the settlement. While Artos and three of his men went to Castle Black, to inform Jon discreetly about the arrival of his presumed dead siblings.

It took them hours to return. Hours that felt like days or years. What took them so long, for a ride of only half a league? Why’d Jon keep them waiting? What if he'd gone looking for Uncle Benjen? Had he gone missing now himself? After all, they hadn’t heard from him in several moon’s turns. Sansa and Bran were barely able to hide their growing tension from Rickon. And tried to appease their baby brother by telling him, Jon were probably busy serving the Lord Commander, and they possibly would have to wait until the Lord Commander would retreat for the night.

And indeed, when they finally heard riders approaching, it was long past nightfall. Yet, neither of them dared to leave their tent. Especially not Sansa. She was too afraid, to see their men return alone and empty-handed. And again it felt like hours, that she stared at the flap of the tent. Waiting for it to be moved, by whoever had returned from Castle Black. Once it finally did and only Artos entered, Sansa’s heart sunk. Could they really be so unlucky? Were they cursed? She didn’t even hear what the Flint clansman said, her head was already spinning. If Jon were here, he would have come! Hence, whatever Artos had to say, she already knew it.
“Sansa?” Bran tried to get her attention, “Let’s go!”
“Where to?” she heard herself absently-minded asking.
“To Jon!” Rickon exclaimed excited.
“He’s here!?”
Her little brother shook his head, “No, silly, at Castle Black. Waiting for us!”
“Then why hasn’t he come?” Sansa blinked in disbelief.
“Because you said, no one must know about us. Jon’s just doing what you asked.” Bran chuckled, “So, come on, let’s go!”
He dragged her outside, where the others already waited.

The Flint men readied their horses and broke camp.
“Your graces, we can ride ahead, if you like. My men can follow with the cart and supplies.” Artos suggested.
“Yes, come on, hurry, Sansa!” Rickon was about to drag her to her horse.
“No!” she pulled him back, reprimanding, “We’ve to arrive as one party. Remember, we’re fur traders? And no real fur trader would leave their goods behind—”
“But Jon—”
“He’s not going anywhere now.” Sansa assured, “He’ll be waiting for us, until we’re there.”
“And after all, he kept us waiting for hours. Just look how over-exited you became, Rickon!” Bran teased, “It’s just fair, we keep him waiting, getting all nervous now in return.”
At that, Rickon’s disappointed expression turned into a grin, “You’re evil.”
“Not half as much as you!” Bran ruffled their brother’s hair.

Still, the time it took for the men to break camp, only added to the tension the three of them felt. What would Jon say? Was he mad at them, for letting him believe they were dead? Was it alright to come unannounced? Were they even welcome? Could Jon convince the Lord Commander, to let them stay? And most of all, would they be safe here? The only thing, that kept those worries at bay, was the struggle Sansa and Bran had with Rickon, once they told him the wolves couldn’t go to Castle Black. With their Tully auburn hair disguised, the three beasts were the only giveaway, who they really were. But Rickon didn’t see reason, until Sansa threatened, she would make Hodor carry him like a babe all the way to Castle Black, if he wouldn’t get onto his horse right away.

So, when their small column finally was moving again, Sansa felt so tense, it almost hurt. And her brothers’ bickering was a only a slight distraction. Bran argued, a fur trader’s son had no reason to ride ahead, since no one he knew were waiting for him at Castle Black.
“Or are you the half-witted son of a fur trader?” he teased.
Rickon truly was the Wild Wolf, as some of the Flint men had started to call him. Even wilder than Arya, Sansa thought, with a small smile on her lips. Or did she only think so, because she hadn’t seen their sister in over two years? However, thinking about Arya turned out a bad idea to calm herself. It only started a new spiral of thoughts. What’d Jon say, if they told him Arya escaped King’s Landing? Would he be mad for not telling him? Would he be relieved or worried, to hear Arya was roaming the Riverlands? With a stranger and a giant wolf pack at her heels?

By the time they rode through Castle Black’s gate, Sansa was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t realise, they had arrived until her horse came to stop in the courtyard. Where they were greeted by a black brother, who seemed to be of age with Jon and Robb. A fat dark-haired man with a moon-shaped face, who introduced himself as Samwell Tarly. But everyone would call him Sam, he said cheerfully. Tarly, as in House Tarly in the Reach? Sansa was wary of him at once. She was old enough to understand, joining the Night’s Watch didn’t necessarily mean to forget all former loyalties. So, she kept an eye on him.

Watched him call some stable boys to take care of their horses, and another brother named Pyp, to show their ‘servants’ and escort to their quarters. Before Sam announced, he would take them to their quarters in the King’s Tower, where they could rest and wait until Jon Snow would have time to greet them. Smart move. As Sansa had suggested, she and Meera were given a room together, and Jojen shared one with Bran and Rickon again. While the two Winterfell guards – their supposed father and uncle – shared the room next to theirs. And to not raise any suspicion, they had their meals served in the guards’ chambers, where they waited for Jon to seek them out.

Yet, while her companions and brothers dug into the food, as if they had starved the past fortnight, Sansa barely touched any. Which made Meera shoot her a worried glance. Sansa even jumped at the knock on the door, once Artos’ men announced, Jon Snow would want to see them. When the door opened, Rickon darted towards it and leapt up. Jon. And Bran quickly joined their hug. Only Sansa’s body wouldn’t move. Not even when Jon’s eyes briefly met hers, before Rickon fired all his questions at him.
“What took you so long? Can we go for a walk atop the Wall? Twice? Once to touch the clouds, and once to see the lands beyond? And maybe Winterfell in the south? Can I see the ice cells? Are there any prisoners right now? Wildlings maybe? Oh, and why the beard? To not freeze, or to look like father? Or to hide any battle scars—"
“Slow down, Rickon! Or how else do you expect to get any answers?” Bran interrupted laughing.
“And don’t forget to breathe!” Jon laughed, too.
But why couldn’t she? Sansa wondered and her mind answered, because you lost Winterfell. Abandoned those poor people to their fates. Twice. To save your own skin. You ran like a coward. Jon’s no coward. He wouldn’t have run. He would have fought. Like you should have!

“Sansa, are you alright?” When did Jon walk up to her?
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I just need to send a raven. Robb and Mother need to know we’re here now.” she babbled, unable to look at him for longer than a flash.
“Sam can do that.” Jon appeased.
“No!” Sansa shrieked, “No one must know we’re alive.”
“Sam’s my friend.” Jon assured, slightly frowning, “He won’t tell, you can trust him.”
“No! I’ve to send it myself.” Sansa insisted, making Jon’s frown deepen.
“She’s using a code.” Bran explained, yet looked at her worried now, “In case the raven gets shot down, you know.”
“Um, okay. Sure.” Jon said, somewhat puzzled, “But I’d actually like to give you a hug first? If I may …”
Sansa only nodded, and Jon’s arms pulled her close. Still, she couldn’t return the hug. Even though, she wanted to. So, she was glad to feel Rickon’s arms fling around both of them, hoping that would keep Jon from noticing. And when both her brothers finally let go, Sansa felt awkward and ashamed. Why was she acting so strange? She only felt a short relief, when Jon was finally done greeting the others in the room, and offered to take them to the rookery.

However, sending the raven didn’t really help Sansa to calm down. In fact, in only took away her excuse to explain her tension. And she was glad, nobody pushed her about it. So, while Bran and Rickon gave Jon an update, about what had happened, Sansa remained silent. Only, when Rickon attempted to blurt out, they had news about Arya, she interrupted. And thankfully Bran understood, this wasn’t something they should discuss in front of the guards. He yawned loudly and announced, it were time for him and Rickon to retreat to their chamber. And before Rickon could object, Bran dragged him out through the door, with Jojen and Meera at their heels – leaving an awkward silence behind in the room.

Until Jon eventually broke it, “Sansa, I’d like to show you something.” he stated, “Get dressed, as many furs and layers as you have. We’re going up to the top.”
And told the guards to come along as well. So, nobody would wonder, why Jon went up there alone with one of the fur trader’s daughters.

While they ascended the Wall in the cage, neither of them spoke again. Besides two or three comments from Jon, about what they could see from up there, if it weren’t still night. Sansa hated herself for being so awkward. He’s your brother, stop being stupid! she told herself, but it was no use. Atop the Wall, Jon led her and the guards westwards. All four of them walked in silence next to each other, until they passed the last manned post half an hour later. At the next post, Jon lit the fire basket.
“No one can see or hear us here. So, you two can stay and keep yourselves warm.” he told the Winterfell guards, “My sister and I need to discuss some private matters.”

Jon then led her further westwards to the following empty post, and lit the fire basket there as well.
“So, will you tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked there, “Why you’ve been acting strange all night?”
“I don’t know, Jon. I don’t know, what’s wrong with me.” Sansa could feel the lump in her throat growing. “I don’t know where to start.” she admitted after a while.
“Well, how about why you’ve barely spoken a word to me?” Jon suggested, shooting her a side glance, “Are you mad at me?”
“What!? No, never.” she looked at him puzzled, but again she had to avert her gaze right away.
“Sansa, come on, you can barely look at me.” he grasped her arm and stepped in front of her.
Feeling tears well up, she eventually burst out, “I think it’s … you remind me of them! Robb and Father.” and suddenly it bubbled all out from her, “Looking at you … it’s as if I’d look at them and I just can’t … not after what happened. Not after failing them so miserably—”

“What do you mean?” he knit his brows.
“Maester Luwin, Rodrik, Mikken, Mother’s septon, they’re all dead. Because of me!”
“No, Sansa, you listen to me!” Jon cupped her face to make her look at him, “That’s on Theon, and him alone. Not you. Or anyone else. Just him, and his damn Ironborn.”
“You don’t understand, Jon.” Sansa felt tears running down her cheeks, “We knew … I knew … knew, the attack was coming. Knew, they’d die … and I did nothing. I let them die. I could’ve warned them, Jon. Saved them and I did nothing.”
“What in seven hells are you talking about?” he frowned confused.
“Earlier, we didn’t tell you everything. The guards can’t know this. Gods, I don’t know what they’d do if they find out.”

“Then tell me now!” Jon demanded irritated.
And Sansa did, in between sobs she told him everything. From how the Reeds had warned them, and how she had been too stupid to understand the simplest metaphor – that ‘the Sea’ could only mean Ironborn. How she had been too afraid to warn those good men of what awaited them. Too afraid, they wouldn’t believe her, and would doubt her ability to lead House Stark in Robb’s absence.
“And you were right in doing so, Sansa. They would’ve died either way. They either wouldn’t have believed you, or if they had, they would’ve been too stubborn to leave their posts.”

“Unlike me!” Sansa sobbed.
Jon attempted to disagree. But she argued, as her brother, he wouldn’t want to see her as the coward she really was. And to prove her point, she told him, how she hadn’t even tried to fight. That she hadn’t even shot one single arrow from afar. And what relief she had felt deep down, once Meera and Syrio had urged her to flee. How quickly she had agreed, and how desperate she had been to get as far away from Winterfell as possible. How badly she had wanted to live, knowing others were dying. For them. For her.

At that, Jon pulled her into a hug and caressed her back to soothe her, “Nobody blames you, for choosing yourself and your baby brothers over Winterfell and its people.”
“And there you’re wrong, Jon. Even I blame me!”
“But that only shows, how deeply you care about Winterfell and the people there. How hard it was for you to leave them behind. But you had to run! To keep Bran and Rickon safe. You did what you had to, Sansa! Remember, family, duty, honour. Your mother’s words. Yes, honour and duty are important, but family is the most important of them, family comes first.”

At that Sansa froze for moment, before she pushed Jon away, “Family comes first!?” she asked with a growing frown, “You mean that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Seven hells, Jon! Then why did you leave?” her voice sounded shrill, “We’re your family. And you left! You left us! For fucking duty and your fucking honour!” She noticed Jon winced at her swearing, but she didn’t care. She was about to start yelling, “We needed you. And you left!” Why was she blaming Jon now of a sudden?
“I had to! To keep you safe—” he countered abashed.
“Rubbish, Jon! You were sick of being Winterfell’s bastard … the only stain on honourable Ned Stark’s otherwise perfectly clean reputation. You wanted to be more. Stepping out of Robb’s shadow. That’s all the reason you had and needed to leave us!” What was wrong with her?
“Sansa, that’s not true—”
But she couldn’t stop herself, “You left! And let us fall prey to Lions and Ironborn. Robb needed you, Jon! You should’ve seen him, once we received that damn raven telling us about Father and Arya and the massacre. Seen him tremble with fear. It scared the hells out of me! Robb needed you! If you’d been there, he wouldn’t have been afraid. If you were at his side, he’d never doubt himself and his strength. I tried to give him that, but I couldn’t. Since I’m just your stupid little sister!”
“Sansa—”
She even shoved him now, “You could’ve told Robb not to send Theon home! You never trusted him as blindly as Robb and I did. If you would’ve told him, Robb would’ve listened!” She just couldn’t stop herself anymore. Was she going mad?

“Sansa, there was no other way. I had to leave!”
“No, Jon, you had not to leave, you chose to! And leaving Robb wasn’t even the worst! At least, he has an army and battle-hardened commanders. But what about Arya, Jon!? She needs you! More than any of us. And now she’s out there. In the Riverlands. All alone!”
This time Jon caught her, before she could shove him again, “What do you mean she’s in the Riverlands? Alone?”  he was shouting now, too.
“What do you think!? She’s trying to help Robb, trying to get home, of course! What if she doesn’t know about Theon? What if she comes home now? You know, she’d never surrender. She’d die, like Rodrik and Mikken!” Sansa sank to her knees, “If you hadn’t left, Robb would’ve sent you to find her! Or would’ve sent you home to hear about Bran’s vision, not Rodrik!”
“What vision!?” Jon knelt down himself and shook her.
But Sansa ignored him, sobbing, “You could’ve been home once it happened, could’ve held Winterfell! You wouldn’t have lost it … like I did! I needed you, Jon! I needed my big brother and you weren’t there— ” she started hitting him in the chest.

“But that’s just it, I’m NOT your brother!” Jon blurted, causing Sansa to stop and stare at him in disbelief.
“What the fuck, Jon!?” now she was actually getting mad at him, “We ARE your family! Night’s Watch or not. If you like it or not—”
“That’s not how I meant! Of course, you’re my family, Sansa. Always! But I’m not your brother, I’m—”
“You know what, it’s late, I should get some sleep.” she said icily and hurried up. He had made his choice. Time to accept it! She was second eldest now. She had made some mistakes. But it wouldn’t happen again! she vowed to herself, once she turned to walk away.
“Your cousin. Not brother.” he burst out.
“What did you just say!?” she asked, unsure if she had imagined it.

“I’m your cousin, Sansa.” he repeated, when she turned to face him again. Only now he wouldn’t look at her, “Ned Stark wasn’t my father. It was all a lie. To keep me safe … and all of you.” he went on with a pained expression.
“But you … you look like him.” Sansa managed to stammer.
“Because of my mother.” Jon locked eyes with her then, watching her reaction closely.
“Your mother?” she asked perplexed.
“Lyanna.” he whispered, his voice breaking.
It took her a moment to put the pieces together, but then her eyes went wide in shock, “Seven hells, Jon, your father—”
“Yes.”
“But that means—”
“Yes, that’s why I left. I took the black, to remove myself as a threat to Robert and his heirs.” his head was hanging in defeat, “I thought, it would keep you all safe, Sansa. I never thought the Lannisters could turn against Fa—, your father … for a different reason. If I had known, I never would’ve left, I swear! I would’ve fought with you. Would’ve protected you, Sansa.”

And this time she pulled him into a hug, “I know, Jon.” she assured and apologised, for yelling at him and blaming him for no reason, “I just couldn’t understand why you of a sudden decided to leave us. But back then I told myself, you’d want to follow the Stark tradition of younger sons, you know, manning the Wall and all that. Like Uncle Benjen. But I don’t blame you for joining the Watch. I mean, I would’ve left for Highgarden myself soon after. And who knows, if I would’ve ever returned to the North, then. So, even if you hadn’t left, our time together was coming to an end. Thus, I could hardly blame you for leaving first. It seemed just a bit sudden, out of the blue, then. But now I get it, I understand now. It’s fine.” she paused before she went on, “It was just … you know, soon after all hell broke loose. And we … we didn’t know how to stop it. And it kept getting worse. I was alone with the little ones and had no idea what I was doing. But I hardly could tell Robb that, could I? Seeing him when that bloody raven came, changed something. I could no longer see him as my ever so strong big brother, like I had before that. I knew, he was just as insecure and frightened as myself. So, I had to pretend to be strong. That he wouldn’t need to worry about us … You see, pressure was building up on us, Robb and me. And Bran, smart-arse that he is, of course noticed and tried to help. But that only made it worse. I didn’t want him to worry about such things, he’s still just a boy … and so I found myself more and more often wishing, you wouldn’t have taken the black. That you were with Robb, whenever I worried about him. Or that you secretly would’ve followed Arya to King’s Landing, so the two of you could’ve escaped together. That I wouldn’t need to worry about her so much … or just that you'd stayed with us in Winterfell. Knowing, you would’ve thought of something … to fight the Ironborn or to take Winterfell back! You wouldn’t have lost the North, like I did … I don’t know what got into me earlier … I’m sorry, Jon! I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I don’t blame you. At all! Please, believe me, Jon!”
“Thank you! I often feared you would … that you'd be mad at me, after what happened in King’s Landing.” Jon whispered.
“I could never be mad at you for that! And neither will Robb and Arya or the little ones, I’m certain." Sansa assured once more, "Nothing that happened was your fault!”

They both remained silent for a while, then. The good kind of silence this time. The one of mutual understanding.
Until Jon whispered, “Thank you, for not freaking out about my parentage.”
"Well, Jon, happens I'm a princess now myself, so I'm afraid 'Prince Jon' doesn't sound that impressive to me anymore." Sansa teased, making them both laugh.
Before Jon got serious again, “And you should know, I couldn’t be any prouder of you, Sansa. Robb chose well, leaving you in charge. None of us could have done better!”
“But you would’ve fought!” she objected.
“Probably. And I possibly would’ve died, abandoning not only Winterfell’s people to their fates, but also Bran and Rickon. They’re alive and safe. Because of you, Sansa! So, don’t you ever think again, you would’ve lost the North. You saved it!” he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead, “And the day will come, once the North will know that, too.”

And just like that, Sansa felt calm and safe – for the first time in over a year. Truly safe. She closed her eyes and clutched to Jon, to keep feeling this way as long as she could.
But all of a sudden, Jon let go, “Look, Sansa! That’s what I wanted you to see.”
He turned her around and Sansa was stunned, staring at the most beautiful sky she had ever seen. Watching it get illuminated in a thousand different shades, until the first beams of sunlight hit her face.
Right before Jon’s sudden outcry, “Oh, shit!” caused her to look away, up to him again.
“What!?” she frowned.
“Your guards must’ve frozen to death.” he chuckled.
“They better not, or else our disguise is blown.” Sansa burst into laughter.

Chapter Text

Gendry was fuming mad, when Lem shoved him rudely back inside the inn. But his anger paled in comparison to Arya’s wrath. She breathed fire and brimstone at the former Stark man, who led her into the house. She had thought him a friend. Before he and his new friends had stepped into their way – to take her hostage.

Naturally, she had been unwilling to give up just like that without a fight. But even Bobby and Storm coming to their aid and trying to keep the outlaws at bay, had made no difference. It was too late. They had understood too late. Sixteen able-bodied men had closed in on them. They had been outnumbered. For good now. They were only four – six, counting the dogs. And far from able-bodied. Gendry’s shoulder had started bleeding again, Arya had the whimpering Barra strapped to her chest, and Hot Pie and Jenna would have stood no stand chance, anyway. But still, they had tried.

In a desperate attempt to facilitate their escape, Jenna had stirred their mounts into the outlaw band. But the hunting steeds had baulked at the unfamiliar manoeuvre, and that giant green-bearded bastard had pulled the girl her from her horse. Arya had fumed and threatened to gut the man, if he wouldn’t let go of Jenna. But it had been for naught. A knife at the girl’s throat had made Hot Pie drop his sword instantly, and Gendry had begrudgingly called off the dogs. Leaving Arya not much of a choice, but to sheathe Needle, then.

She had thought Harwin would help them, would escort them to her brother. But he no longer was her father’s man. Or her friend. He had deserted her and her family for the brotherhood, becoming yet another traitor in her eyes. And his betrayal hurt. Evidently. Arya had wasted no time to let the man know what she thought of him now. Although, the former Stark man tried to appease her, tried to explain himself, she remained unwilling to listen. She distrusted the man’s every word now, calling him ‘Theon’ and ‘turncloak’, ‘liar’ and ‘coward’. It was merely the truth.

The longer Gendry thought about it, the angrier he got at the man himself. He deserted her! He let her starve in Flea Bottom and fall prey to Lorch and the Mountain’s men, Lord Tywin and Roose Bolton, and their vicious minions. For the gods’ sake, he’d seen her grow up! He must’ve known she’d escape the Lannisters eventually. All he had to do was wait for her on the kingsroad. But he hadn’t! He abandoned her to her fate. All she’d been through since the kingsroad, that man could’ve been prevented it. But he chose to forsake her. Gendry only halted his inner rant against the deserter, when Sharna reopened his wound to check for internal bleedings and damages. But otherwise he paid no attention to the innkeep, then. Neither to her anew teasing. Nor to her scolding, while she put his arm into a sling, so he wouldn’t rip the stitches again. He didn’t even hear, she ordered him another day of bedrest - he only found out afterwards, from Hot Pie. Since he was too busy to silently vow, if Arya or her brother wouldn’t take that coward’s head, he would.

But as things looked some hours later, Arya would do the job herself. Since Harwin found a new reason to piss her off. Now, that everyone knew who she was, Sharna suddenly had lots of spare bedrooms to offer. Two of them just for them five. Cells. And of course, one of them was meant for Arya alone. What a surprise. No, actually, Gendry was surprised. Surprised, how a man who had known her all her life, could think she’d play along with that.
“It’s for your own good.” the former Stark man argued at nightfall, once Barra had fallen asleep.
“Go fuck yourself, Harwin!” Arya hissed dismissively, “If you think, I’d leave my friends out of sight around the likes of you, you’re mistaken.”
“No one means them any ill—”
“Tell that to the little girl you scared nigh to death today, or his now twice injured shoulder!”
“Arya, please.” The Northerner went on, “What’d your lady mother think—”
“That you should burn in hell, alongside the other turncloak.” she snarled, making the man look once more as if he was in pain.
However, eventually she gave in and followed him sulking to the next-door room. Fool! As if locking her up in a different room would do the trick. Gendry thought, and would be in the right.

Less than an hour later, he heard their bedroom’s window open and couldn’t help but chuckle. How could they not have thought of that?
“You shouldn’t.” Gendry whispered nevertheless, once she opened his bed’s curtains.
“Wrong. I shouldn’t’ve made you come here.” she countered and climbed over his legs to lay down next to Barra.
“Yes!” he objected, “We could’ve never fixed my shoulder as good as Sharna.”
”But now it’s even worse.” she opposed, “We could’ve just ridden off this morning, if I hadn’t—” she started caressing Barra’s tummy.
“You couldn’t’ve known he’s one of them now.”
“Yes! If I’d looked with my eyes … not my stupid heart.” she disagreed, “He wouldn’t look that ragged if he’d serve Robb now.”
“Your heart’s not stupid. Just loyal.” Gendry placed his good hand over hers atop Barra’s stomach.
“That’s just another word for stupid.” she snapped unappeased, “Blind loyalty gets people killed!” Was she talking about her father?
Thus, Gendry countered swiftly, “Makes you still only half as stupid as me. After all, it’s my fault I got shot. Hadn’t I gone hunting—”
“But you only did, because I sent the wolves away—”

“Could you two please stop blaming yourselves!?” Hot Pie suddenly hissed from the other bed, “Some of us are trying to sleep here, you know.” causing Gendry to chuckle. Jenna was getting to his head.
And Arya hissed back, “Oh, shut it, Hot Pie!”
“Leave them be!” Jenna scolded.
“But we all know who’s to blame here, those ale guzzling fuckers downstairs.” Hot Pie insisted.
“Ignore him!” Jenna went on, “He’s just afraid, I won’t see him as a hero anymore.” Ouch.
“That’s not true!” Hot Pie objected, evidently snubbed. Oh, lad.
“Yes, it is!” Jenna countered resolutely, before her voice softened, “But I don’t want some stupid hero who dies in battle, you silly. I want my Hot Pie. Who’s smart enough to survive this war, and one day runs a big castle kitchen with me, or our very own baker shop. So, you can calm down now and worry about our escape in the morrow. Hells, we got out of Harrenhal, so how hard can this be!?” the girl argued, dumbfounding not only Hot Pie.

After that, both Arya and Gendry remained silent. So Hot Pie would get the peace he had demanded. But probably more so, because they felt somewhat embarrassed, their friends had heard their private exchange – they had assumed they were already asleep. And Arya most certainly didn’t like, Hot Pie and Jenna witnessed her guilt-ridden attempt of an apology.

Thus, the silence turned quickly into an awkward one. Even in the dark behind the bedcurtains, Gendry could feel Arya’s eyes on him. She wanted to say something. Probably finish what she’d been about to say. Or maybe wanted him to say something. He wanted to, and searched for her eyes in the dark - to guess what she was thinking. And all the while his hand remained atop hers on Barra’s stomach. But her hand had stopped moving, caressing the little one. Which only made it all the more awkward. Should he remove his? Stupid question. Of course, he should! But probably not because of her. He wanted to caress her hand. But didn’t. They couldn’t go back to how things were at Harrenhal. Harwin was right, it wasn’t proper. Of course, she disagreed there. Obviously, considering she’d just snuck into his bed. So, it fell to him, to keep her in check. Even though, he didn’t want to. This past moon's turn without her was hell. Therefore, his hand remained where it was. Unmoving as well. It was ridiculous. And kept them both from falling asleep.

So, eventually Gendry could no longer take it and blurted, “Why did you send them away? The pack, I mean.” he was dying to know where she had been.
“Robb needs them.” she retorted quietly, “Tywin crushed Stannis at the Blackwater. Together with the Tyrells, it seems. And apparently Mother released the Kingslayer, after Theon—”
“What!? How—”
“I don’t understand it, either.” Arya huffed, “I mean, how could she weaken Robb like that!?”
“No, Arya, I mean how do you know of this!?” he asked, getting a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Um, well, there was this hamlet about a sennight back.” she reluctantly began, “You snuck around it—” Seven hells!

“Where those pillagers were!?” he burst out aghast.
“Yeah, but we took care of them.” Of course, she did!
“Arya—”
“Those villagers needed help!” she hissed unapologetically and pulled her hand away, “I could help. End of story.”
“You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse!”
“Hardly. These idiots were too busy ogling me like easy prey.” she snorted and turned to lay on her back, “Once they realised I wasn’t alone, the wolves were already at their throats. Only three even managed to draw their blades.”
“You confronted them alone!?” Gendry gasped outraged.
“No…” she growled annoyed, “I let them think I was alone—”
“How could you—”
“What!? It was two dozen men.” she snapped, “If they’d seen the pack, they would’ve dug themselves in, hurting even more villagers. Or the wolves. Or me. This way they didn’t.” For fuck’s sake!

“Because you were lucky—”
“No, stupid.” she snarled, “Because I knew what I was doing.” She now even turned her back on him, “I’m sick of standing by, watching monsters prey on the weak. These scumbags won’t harm anyone anymore. So, stop patronising me!” Unbelievable.
“But you could’ve gotten hurt …”
“Oh, please, as if you wouldn’t’ve done exactly the same, if you had had the chance.”
“But I— you know what, forget it!” he huffed angrily. This wasn’t leading anywhere.
“No, tell me! ‘But you’, what!? But you’re a man?” she spat fuming, “A big strong man and no fragile precious highborn princess?”
“But I didn’t!” he snapped, “I wanted to, yes, but I didn’t. That’s my point.”
“Yeah, sure.” she snorted unconvinced.

He remained silent for a moment, to not end up waking the whole house by yelling at her now.
“But why didn’t you go with the wolves then, to your brother?” he asked eventually.
“You know why.” she growled.
“Then you could’ve come back to us!”
“You didn’t want me there.” she retorted icily.
“You know, that’s not true.” he snapped, close to yelling again.
“Weird! I recall you avoiding me like a plague and saying, I were a danger to your lives.” she snorted angrily. Seriously!?
“Well, then what’re you doing here in my bed!?” he snarled at her.
“Fine.” she got up and climbed over him, “Good luck, if you get a fever again.” Fuck.

Gendry reflexively grabbed her arm to stop her, “I’m sorry.” he sat up, “It’s just … I was worried sick, not knowing where you are, if you’re okay …”
“I told Hot Pie I’d be with Nymeria.” she huffed.
So, he pulled her down onto his thighs. Wait, what’re you doing!? his mind inquired alarmed.
“I know.” he cupped her face. Oh, no. “Didn’t stop me from giving him hells for letting you go, though.” Bad idea. Absolutely bad idea. But his body wouldn’t listen. He pulled her face towards his, “Don’t ever do this again! Disappearing like that, without any warning, okay?”
“I thought, we shouldn’t?” she growled, probably changing the subject, so she wouldn’t have to promise him anything. Damn girl.
“Probably the fever.” his thumb found the edge of her mouth. Stop it, you damn fool!
“You don’t have any.” she felt his forehead. She’s offering you a way out.
“I won’t tell, if you don’t.” he teased and gently rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. Don’t. Just don’t.
“But—” Another way out. Take it!
“Just tonight. One last time.” You’re so gonna regret this!
She brought her lips to his. No, he wouldn’t. He had missed her. This. Gendry thought, before they carefully shifted Barra and her blanket further towards the wall, so Arya could lay down next to him. She was his. On last time.

But she wasn’t and never would be. As expected, Gendry came soon to regret his action from that past night. Not right away, though. At dawn, when he had woken up to find her in his arm, he had still been the happiest man alive. But only until she had snuck out of the window and back into her own room. Then, reality had come crushing down onto him with lightning speed. Making him realise, he was the stupidest man alive. Sure, he had put an end to their fight, but he hadn’t solved it. He had merely postponed it. He still thought, she had been reckless with those marauders and she still thought, she hadn’t. He knew it, and so did she. And on top of that, this night had ruined all his efforts to let her go. It had brought him right back to that clearing, to that morning she had vanished into thin air. But apparently, he was the only one feeling that way.

Since she was too busy scowling at the outlaws, and undoubtedly already preparing their escape. But she had to be subtle at it. Those damn bastards feared for their ransom, and hence watched her closely. Just not last night! Bloody drunkards. Yet, now Arya only so much as looked at the door and some of them jumped from their seats. And none more than Lemoncloak, he watched her every move. Like a hawk.

Even when she demanded to check on their horses and Harwin offered to ‘help’ her, the lout was about to follow them to the stables, before he was stopped by Tom. Did he even distrust his fellow outlaws? However, Lem’s worries were in vain. Arya stomped back into the taproom mere moments later, unmistakeably sick of hearing Harwin’s excuses.
She lifted Barra from Jenna’s lap and huffed, “The little one wants to play outside now. So, anyone intent to annoy me further, better keep up with us.”
Arya nodded at Gendry, Hot Pie and Jenna to make them follow her outside, and half the brotherhood men followed close behind. Bloody idiots.

She was assessing them, testing them. And she was using them. She wouldn’t try to escape, before she was certain his shoulder would be okay. Hence, she played with Barra outside all morning, as if everything were normal. But naturally she couldn’t resist teaching Barra to make faces at their captors and call them dumb-dumbs, which the little one logically enjoyed to the fullest.
Barra was running around in the yard with Arya and the dogs, protruded her tongue at the men and pointed her tiny fingers at them, muttering “dum-dum” in between her happy giggles.
So, before long, the men had enough of being insulted by a toddler and retreated back inside ‘to get more ale’. Well, most of them did.

Lem unsurprisingly couldn’t be lured into letting his guard down. The man leant against the wall under the sign of the kneeling king, his eyes fixed on Arya. He suspected, she was up to something. Whereas Harwin seemed somewhat absent as he watched her and the little one fool around together. Making Gendry wonder, if the scene maybe reminded him of little Arya back in Winterfell. A thought, that inevitably made him smile. He’d like that, people seeing something of Arya in her.

However, Gendry’s smile vanished rapidly, once he heard Anguy letting out a guffaw. That fucking bastard actually enjoyed Arya and Barra mocking him. Enjoyed it far too much! He stuck out his tongue in return and made faces back at them, eliciting even happier giggles from Barra. Seven hells.

And it got worse, when the four of them played Statues with the little one, Barra kept calling “dum-dum” whenever she saw Anguy moving, which Archer eventually took as an invitation to join the fray. At that, Gendry had enough, he stepped into Anguy's way, growling, “Stay away from her!”
“Of course, as you wish, Bull boy.” the Marcher chirped and turned away. Yet, only to turn right back around, smirking, “But the little one isn’t the only lass I ought to stay away from, right?” That fellow!
Gendry wanted to punch him, “You stay away from her, or you’ll regret it!”
“Which one, again?” Archer teased on. Both! For the gods’ sake, that idiot was begging for it.
“Arya,” Gendry hissed, still glaring at the man in front of him, “she’s getting tired. She needs to eat something before her nap.” He stepped away from Anguy and lifted Barra up onto his good arm. But naturally his baby sister was all but amused that he brought her unexpected entertainment to an end, carrying her away from her funny new friend. Gods, he hated that prick.

Nonetheless, Anguy found a way to yank Gendry’s chain even more. While he had gone upstairs with Barra for her nap, Arya had decided, that was the perfect time to practice her water dancing. But of course she hadn’t told him. Probably knowing, he didn’t want her to practice in front of their captors. Their all male captors …

Hence, Gendry only learned about it by accident. He had opened the window, so Barra could hear the birds chirp, whilst he told her stories about a cheeky little sparrow who refused to nap. And by the time the little one had finally dozed off in his arm, their chirping had almost lulled him to sleep as well. Until of a sudden he heard Archer’s voice coming from the yard, “I could be wrong, princess, but wouldn’t this be more effective with a partner?” What the fuck?

“Don’t call me that.” Arya snapped. What the hells was she doing?
Gendry wanted to get up to see for himself, but Barra wasn’t sound asleep yet. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t he leave her one moment out of sight, without that guy instantly creeping up on her?
“Well, how else should I call you then, m’lady?” Anguy chuckled. You should call her nothing, you twat shouldn’t even talk to her.
“I’ve a name.” Arya snorted clearly annoyed.
But the Marcher just wouldn’t leave her be, “Alright, Arya Stark of Winterfell, why’re you practicing your swordplay alone? Is your valiant protector still too weak to spar with you?” Seriously?
“It’s just Arya, dimwit.” she hissed, “And in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the iron dance of Westeros.” Of course, he didn’t, he’s too busy ogling you!
“And your Bull boy can’t handle your foreign sword style?” Anguy questioned. He was so begging for a beating.
“What’s your goddamn problem with him?” Arya snarled now. Unbelievable, she still didn’t get it.
“Nothing.” Archer chuckled, “I’m just wondering, if you’d want a sparring partner, Arya.” She’s young, not stupid!
“Let me guess, you’re suggesting yourself?” she questioned, sounding even more annoyed. Good girl.
“Could be fun.”

“Doubt it.” she snorted, “Or is our master archer now a master water dancer as well?”
At that, Anguy laughed, “No, but you look like you know what you’re doing. So, why not teach me?” Wow, that arsehole really thought her a simpleton.
“And why’d you want that?” she questioned warily. Takes a little more to fool her, idiot.
“Happens, I’m blessed with a curious nature.” Archer stated, “I’m always interested in trying new things.” Gross! Did girls really fall for this crap?
Arya certainly didn’t, “Well, too bad, wise-arse, I’m not interested in teaching you anything.” Could’ve told you so.
“Maybe I could teach you something in return, Arya.” Anguy offered in a purring voice. Gods, lad, she isn’t interested, deal with it!

“And what might that be?” she snorted dismissively. No, Arya, just stop talking to the creep.
“Well, I can think of quite a few things there.” Archer retorted, “But how about archery?” Hearing that, Gendry almost burst into laughter, and just when you think, he couldn’t get any stupider, he does.
“Already forgot who shot you!?” Arya laughed out loud.
But Archer just teased on, “How could I forget, Arya?” Wow, his 'lady friends' must be blind, deaf and dense.
But Arya was neither, “Stop stressing my name like that!”
“So, do we have a deal, Arya?” Anguy went on, “You teach me some of your swordplay and I’ll help you improve your—” She needs no improving, least of all from you bugger!
“How about you try shooting a bow made for someone taller and stronger?” Arya snapped, clearly affronted by the Marcher’s suggestion.
“There’s no bow Archer can’t hit his target with, princess.” Lem grunted dismissive. Of course, that cunt was there, too.
“I could provide relief for that. If you—” Anguy went on. How many more times do you need to hear it? She said ‘no’.
“My archery’s just fine.” Arya was pissed now, “You idiots down south aren’t the only great bowmen, I learnt from—” Oh, no. Fuck.

Gendry pulled his arm out from under Barra and snuck to the window. He had suspected she still struggled processing, that the very man who’d killed her siblings and invaded her home was the same man, who had been like a brother to her. And seeing her now in the yard, her shoulders slouched and her expression almost empty, only confirmed his suspicion. She must’ve forgotten for a moment. Gendry clenched his good fist reflexively. He’d so kill that damn Marcher for this.
But right when he was about to head downstairs, he saw Anguy approach her surprisingly understanding, “Was it your father, who taught you?”
“No.” she clenched her right fist and snarled hateful, “Theon Greyjoy.”
And Anguy proposed calmly, “Well, don’t you have all the more reason to improve your archery, then?” He stepped even closer to her, “To pay the bloody turncloak back in his own coin?” Son of a bitch!

Although, Arya was still scowling at the Marcher, Gendry already knew she was about to accept his offer. No!
Ere only a moment later, she burst out, “Fine, when do we start?”
“Whenever you want.” Anguy told her. Of course! That sleeky fucker just couldn’t wait to lay his hands on her.
“And what if I’d say now?” she challenged angrily. What the fuck, Arya?
“Then now it is.” Anguy replied smiling. You’re so dead, you damn bastard!
“With your wounded shoulder?” Arya snorted. Hells, was she teasing him back now?
“Don’t need it for that.” Archer grinned, “So, shall I fetch your bow, while you finish your swordplay?” Gendry was fuming now. Yeah, who needs a bloody shoulder to fondle her?
And hearing Arya say, “No. First, I’m gonna kick your arse, Archer.” only added to his anger. She’s teasing back!
Anguy noticed, too. The Marcher laughed in delight, when she told him to find two sticks for them to spar with.

At that, Gendry got carried away by his fury. Storming out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen, he hissed at Hot Pie and Jenna, “You need to watch Barra.” and didn’t even wait for their response, he just stormed off out into the yard.
Where Arya stood right behind a disarmed Anguy, her stick at his neck, she laughed gleefully, “You’re a dead master archer.”
“What’re you doing?” Gendry hissed outraged, his hand still clenched into a fist.
“None of your damn business, bastard.” Lem grunted in response.
And Anguy chuckled, “What does it look like, Bull boy?”
“I’m not talking to you fuckers.” Gendry scowled at Arya.
“Sparring, obviously.” she snorted nonchalant, “Or at least that’s what he’s trying. Fails miserably, though—”
“Yeah, sure. Let's call it ‘sparring’.” Gendry snapped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arya retorted frowning.

“Do you have a problem with that, boy!?” Anguy baited. He was so dead!
“Stop calling him that!” Arya hissed, “Or else—”
“Nah, let him.” Gendry challenged infuriated, “Let’s see, if he dares saying it to my face.”
“Anytime, boy, anytime.” Anguy snorted smug.
“Gods, not this again.” Arya rolled her eyes, scolding Gendry, “Go back to Barra, you need to rest your shoulder.”
“Aye, bastard, listen to your mistress.” Lem growled disdainful.
“I’m not his mistress—” Arya hissed outraged.
But Gendry ignored Lem’s remark and instead snarled at her, “So needs he!”
“Nah, I’m good here,” Anguy claimed, “I can spar with the little lady all day long.”
“Not, if I stop going easy on you, dum-dum.” Arya huffed and shoved the archer, “In case you haven’t noticed, I give a shit about your stupid shoulder.” Was that supposed to comfort him?
“He’s one of them, your captor.” Gendry hissed fuming, “How can you let him— them know what you can do with a blade?”

But she only rolled her eyes again, “I’m just showing him some basics, no need to worry.” She simply didn’t get it.
“For now.” Anguy teased gleefully, “Or do you want me to only teach you the basics?”
“Can’t you just shut up for once?” Arya hit the Marcher’s healthy shoulder with her stick.
And Gendry growled at the man, “You have nothing to teach her.”
“I dare say, I could teach her lots of things …” the archer challenged.
“Shut up!” Arya snapped at Anguy, before she turned annoyed back to Gendry, “He's just teaching me archery, nothing else.” Nothing else? Horseshit!
“You know how to shoot a bow.” Gendry snarled, scowling at her.
“But I know better, Bull boy.” Anguy smirked.
“Shut it!” Arya and Gendry shouted simultaneously, before she told him once more to go back inside and rest his shoulder.
For a moment Gendry just stared at her, speechless. How could she be so blind and dense?
But then his fury got the better of him and he snapped at her, “Who’s patronising who now?” before he stormed back inside. Why did he even bother? Like Pisscloak said, it was none of his business, she could do whatever she wanted. And if she didn’t care what he thought, why should he care about her—

Only he didn't get far, since Harwin stepped into his way now, nodding at the bench to Gendry’s right, “Sit down, lad, we need to talk.” They had to be jesting.
“No, thanks.” Gendry hissed cynically, “Not in the mood for chitchat.”
“Wasn’t a request, bastard.” Lem grunted from behind him. Of course.
Gendry shook his head and let out an angry snort, before he slumped down onto the bench. Knowing, there were only three things this lot could want to talk about with him alone. Either they hoped he would tell them where Arya had been all this time, or they wanted his help to appease her; but Gendry’s bet was on number three. It didn’t matter, though.
His answer remained the same, “I’ve nothing to say, to either of you.”

“That’s not an option.” the green-bearded Tyroshi countered, stepping next to Harwin.
“Only three against one today? You’re getting braver, lads.” Gendry taunted.
Which earned him a smack on the back of his head from Lem, “You shut that smug mouth of yours.”
“I thought you wanted me to talk?”
“We do.” Greenbeard stopped Lem from smacking him again.
“Lad, I’ve served House Stark half my life." the former Stark guard tried to reason with him, "I know that girl’s family, and I know her. That’s why we need to know, what’s going on between you two—”
“Oh, spare me your fake protectiveness,” Gendry hissed, “I’m not buying it, and neither is she. You don’t care about her, you just care how much coin you can make of her.”
“Whereas your interest in her is utterly selfless, bastard?” Lem spat.
“That matter is between her and me.”
“The king in the North will beg to differ on that.” Greenbeard countered, before Lem could lose his temper again.

“As is his right, but thing is, you don’t speak for Robb Stark. None of you do.” Gendry countered and locked eyes with Harwin, “You forfeited that right the day you deserted,” he felt the anger boil up inside of him, “when you deserted her! You didn’t care what’d happen to her—”
“That’s not true—” Harwin tried to object.
“Oh, but it is.” Gendry snarled hateful, “You knew her all her life, you should’ve known, she’d rather die than cave in to the Lannisters. You should’ve known, she’d find a way to escape and would try to get home. Yet, somehow I didn’t see you waiting for her on the kingsroad … and we both know why, your old master’s death brought your pay to an end, so why bother his little girl was still trapped in the city? Why risk your life for her, when there was nothing in it for you? After all, that wasn’t what you’d signed up for … all those years ago, when you’d offered your services to Ned Stark. Back then, when that had merely meant to stand guard in safe old Winterfell. So, who could blame you for abandoning her—”
“Apparently, you do.” Harwin interrupted, still surprisingly calm.
“Damn right, I do!” Gendry hissed, “And one day you’ll pay for it—”
At that, Lem grabbed his collar again, yelling, “How dare you, you smug little cunt—”

“More like, how dare you, you damn fuckers?" Arya retorted livid from the door and slipped past Harwin and the Tyroshi, swinging Needle’s pommel at Lemoncloak’s face before anyone could stop her. Gendry heard the man’s nose break, a blink of an eye before blood spurted right into his face, as Lem roared with pain, letting go of his collar. “I told you to leave him be.” Arya yelled whilst Harwin pulled her away.
“So, did I!” Sharna barked from across the taproom, “As handsome as the lad may be, I’m getting tired of stitching him up again and again, just because you fool can’t control your temper.” And over the innkeep’s then following full-throated chiding, Gendry had missed the first bits of Harwin's exchange with Arya, as he wiped Lem’s blood off of himself.
“You know, you can’t commune with him like that!” the Stark deserter told her, “you’re a highborn and he’s—”
“He’s my sworn shield.” he heard Arya shout, as she shoved Harwin away.
“What?” Gendry blurted stunned, feeling his own jaw drop.

Which of course, caught Lem's attention, “You wanna tell me that little bugger's your bodyguard?” he hissed, spluttering blood, “He’s no damn knight—”
“Nobody needs to be a knight to be a sworn shield, you damn turd.” Arya snarled. Gods, this girl.
And Harwin tried to reason with her, “Arya, your lady mother would—”
“Would say he did your job, and that since the day I met him …” Arya was fuming, “The day Father died, you know, when Yoren found me at the Sept of Baelor.”
Gendry saw the men’s eyes widen, but most of all Harwin’s. Aye, she was there that day, you should've foreseen that too, you hypocrite.
Arya ignored their stares and just continued with her rant, “Yoren smuggled us both out of the city that day, hid us amidst his Night’s Watch recruits. But it was Gendry’s merit that none of those rapists and murderers looked twice at that odd scrawny ‘boy’ at the rear of their column. He made sure none of them came near me, or stole my food or my blanket. And once Lorch and his men attacked us, murdering Yoren and half his recruits, he got me out there. I would’ve died there, if it hadn’t been for him! Hells, he even managed to keep me safe when the Mountain caught us.”
“What?” Harwin gasped horrified. For an instant even Lem’s eyes went wide at that, but quickly narrowed again. He thought she was lying.

“Aye, that’s right,” Arya hissed, “he is the reason I still have a maidenhead you arseholes can worry about! He and Hot Pie. They hid me from the Mountain’s men, for days! And in Harrenhal, when Tywin’s understeward beat me and tried to sell me as a whore, he took care of the creep. So, how dare you treat him like this? Yoren tasked him to protect me and escort me home, because he knew, even Father would’ve trusted him with my life. And he kept his promise, still does. So, if anyone here besides myself, can claim to be in charge of me, it’s him! Not you, Harwin. You lost any authority you had over me the moment you deserted. You left me to rot in King’s Landing! So, don’t you dare judge him or doubt his honour. He did your job, even better than you ever could. And unlike you greedy cravens, he never asked for anything in return, neither before nor after he found out who I was … ” she concluded her tirade, leaving everyone in the taproom speechless for a moment. Including Gendry, never before had anyone advocated for him like that.

“Arya, I’m sorry.” Harwin eventually broke the silence, “For what happened to you, and to your friends, and I’m sorry I questioned their motives. But you have to believe me, I didn’t do what I did, because I didn’t care about you—”
“Whatever, Harwin.” Arya scoffed and grabbed Gendry’s hand, pulling him off the bench and towards the stairs.
“It was a trap,” the former Stark guard called after her, sounding desperate now, “for your father.” Seven hells.
“What?” Arya turned back around, narrowing her eyes.

The former Stark man locked eyes with her then, explaining quietly, “Lord Tywin, he sent the Mountain across the Red Fork to draw your father west, to kill or trade him for the Imp. Only it seems the Kingslayer didn’t know so, when he attacked your father and our men in the streets … So, your father had to send Lord Beric with us in his stead. And we walked right into the trap, the Mountain’s men awaited for us at the Mummer’s Ford. But they were only the van of Tywin’s host, who afterwards swept up into the Riverlands, burning everything in their path. Back then, we thought we only had to retreat to the woods and wait for Robert to march west and then join him. But Robert died, and suddenly your father was a traitor who got executed, and we were the outlaws. We had to make a choice, Arya. You saw what happens to the people here …” Harwin paused, waiting for her reaction.

“So, Father would’ve died either way.” she concluded after a moment of silence, noticeably fighting back tears now. Shit.
“Most likely, I’m afraid.” Harwin confirmed reluctantly, causing Gendry to gently squeeze her hand.
“He sent several Winterfell men with Lord Beric.” Arya went on, “What happened, are they …?”
“Six of us remain.” Harwin told her calm, “Scattered across the Riverlands, though. All with different fractions of the brotherhood.” Leaving some more for her to mourn.

“Who?” Arya inquired, her voice almost breaking.
“Alyn.” Harwin said, inviting her to join him at one of the tables, and she accepted, yet pulled Gendry along with her.
“Gregor had men concealed on both banks at the Mummer’s Ford.” Harwin continued, as Sharna’s Boy had brought ale to their table, “They fell upon us from front and rear. I thought I was doomed with the rest, but Alyn shouted commands and restored order to our ranks like a true leader.” The former Stark guard told them about each of his nineteen companions. How and when the fourteen had died, and where he had last seen the other five, or what he had heard of them. And where Harwin lacked the information, other men in the room could often provide some.

Anguy joined them first at the table, slumping down next to Arya. Surprise! But she apparently suspected now, he had only sparred with her to distract her, so the others could question Gendry. Hence, the archer could try now all he wanted, she remained coolly towards him. Which naturally lightened Gendry’s mood immensely, making it easier for him to ignore the man’s taunting. Also, having Harwin sit right across from them, seemed to tame the Marcher a bit. And thus, they got to hear, Anguy didn’t just join their round to annoy the hells out of everyone, but that he also had been amongst those unfortunate forty at the Mummers’ Ford.

Before Tom Sevenstrings joined their table next. No surprise, either. The singer’s mouth never seemed to shut up, unless he was eating or drinking. So, of course he couldn’t resist putting his oar in as well. And after him, Greenbeard sat down next to Gendry, “Little lady, that was quite a thing to watch, how you broke Lem’s nose. And how you championed this one here was no less impressive.” the Tyroshi complimented and patted Gendry's shoulder, making the rest of the men at the table agree. “Apologies for earlier. You’re a good lad, it seems.” Greenbeard turned to Gendry, “We could use a brave man like you, you know. I mean, once you kept that promise of yours and the little lady’s back with her family.” What? Gendry stared at the Tyroshi in disbelief. Just moments ago, they’d suspected he'd ruined her. “I'm serious.” The man chuckled amused.

Before then a fully armed Hot Pie snuck down the stairs, both hands clutching to his sword. “What’s going on?” he burst out confused, seeing Arya and Gendry suddenly share a table with their captors.
“There comes the great hero!” the men of the brotherhood roared with laughter.
“Huh?” Hot Pie stammered, “We’d heard shouting and fighting earlier …” he was clearly embarrassed about his appearance now.
“And we heard about your time with the Mountain’s men.” Tom exclaimed.
“Oh, that, um, that was nothing.” Hot Pie muttered and sheathed his sword, evidently thinking they were just mocking him.
“Nothing, he says!” Anguy guffawed.
“Lad, surviving the Mountain’s men and Harrenhal is far from nothing.” Greenbeard appeased.
“Yeah, but that’s only because of them two.” Hot Pie nodded still beet-red at Arya and Gendry, “I would’ve already died at the towerhouse, if Arry hadn’t whirled around me with her sword all night.”
“Appears our warrior princess left out the best parts of the story.” Anguy winked at Arya. She definitively did, on purpose though, you idiot.
“Nonsense, Hot Pie, you did great then.” she ignored the Marcher, “And even better afterwards.” Indeed.
“Come, lad, sit.” Tom nodded at the seat next to himself, “I could make a song about your journey.”
“But, um, Jenna’s still upstairs with—” Hot Pie stammered, unsure what to make of this all.
“Then get them downstairs!” Anguy laughed, “And tell the little one, dum-dum’s ready for another round of making faces.” That son of a bitch…