Hi! It's been awhile since I've written anything. So try to be kind. :) All characters don't belong to me, and I can only dare dream and try to grasp the complexity of what George R.R. Martin has created. Hopeful thinking, yeah. First few chapters are based on the series, so I borrowed HBO's lines but later on I'll use more of my own to fill the gaps the series never showed us and later on I'll diverge a bit from the way things played out in the series. So yeah, I hope you guys enjoy. I will try to do my best in making it enjoyable. :)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was nothing like the sight of fire and the feel of metal that could calm his soul. He loved the feeling of being in control, of creating something, and making it better. Most of all, he needed a distraction from his thoughts.

It's been awhile since he had been passed to the Night's Watch by his mentor, Tobho Mott, the memory always associated with a pang of bitterness and slight betrayal. He was good at being a blacksmith, he had done no wrong except for refusing to sell his helmet to the Hand of the King once, but even so he respected his mentor too much to put up any resistance. Being a blacksmith is all he has ever known, and it's something he prides himself in being. He isn't much of a fighter, he wasn't that courageous either. He knew he was strong, but when it came to being brave, his highborn friend in disguise trumped him any day. It's frustrating that a tiny girl could be so strong. He doesn't even understand why it bothers him, that she didn't need him as much as he wanted to be needed. He remembered the first time he saw her, she found herself in a fight with those two kids, Lommy and Hot Pie, threatening to poke him with her sword, things weren't playing out the way she wanted it to, he could tell. So he jumped in and scared them away. Oddly enough, that was the beginning of their friendship. He recalled that for a short time he did think her to be male, her hair was all chopped off and she was too young and too thin to arise any suspicions. But he noticed her, always running off to a far away place to piss and being overly cautious when she does. Then he knew, but he had no desire to pry. Every single person they were traveling with had their reasons for traveling to the Wall, and he had no intention of trying to dig too deep into the topic.

"What are you doing here?" said a familiar voice.

He had no need to even look up to see her face, he already knew it all too well. All the calmness his work gave him was swept away in an instant. He braced himself for the conversation that was bound to unfold.

"Just mending Lord Beric's armor", he replied nonchalantly. He knew her too well, he sensed there would be more questions to come.

"Why?", she asked without an ounce of suspicion or comprehension.

He took a breath to calm his nerves before he finally told her, "I'm going to stay on and smith for the Brotherhood." He saw her face show how incredulous she thought his decision to be, and it wasn't like Arya to ever hold back her emotions or opinions on anything.

"Have you lost your mind?! When the Lannisters find this place, you think they'll spare the smiths? They'll cave your head in with your helmet."

He knew she had a point, but really he thought this through. There was no other place he could think of to go and belong. He knows his life will always be wanted by those damn red cloaks. He told Arya as much. Predictably, she went on about her family, her brother Robb, the King in the North. But he just...couldn't.

He and Arya could never stay friends, he was just a lowborn without even a last name, and she-she's a Stark, a highborn, no matter how unlady like she acts. It's only here in the woods, with the adventure of them being both on the run and wanted by the Lannisters that they bonded. Once she goes back home, and she will get back home, everything will be over. The Brotherhood is his chance for something, to be somebody.

"These men are brothers, they're a family", he finally said. After everything that happened so far, being found by the Brotherhood was the best thing that has happened, a blessing in disguise. It's the closest damn thing to home, a family, a place where he was appreciated. He was glad to be needed, it never occurred to him that feeling relevant in some way was what he craved for. He wouldn't find that anywhere else. He was certain he wouldn't find it especially at Winterfell, or so he tried to convince himself.

"I could be your family", said Arya, with a hint of tears threatening to pour down her face but held back with restraint.

No, he thought, you already have a family, you're a Stark.

He wished he could be her family too, but he wasn't too naive to be swayed by wishful thinking. As much as he wanted to stay with the person who saved his life and has become his closest friend, he knew he couldn't. He would always be a lowborn, and she a highborn. No matter how close they had gotten and how much they cherished each other, it was doomed to fail. They wouldn't be a family, he knew that much was true.

"You wouldn't be my family, you'd be my lady", he managed to reply pushing back the lump that was forming behind his throat. He hadn't meant for the words to be laced in sadness. Thank the Seven Gods she walked away at that moment, the fist clenching pain in his chest was taking over him. He took a deep breath, and focused on the hammer in his hand and continued mending the armor of Lord Beric. With every strike of the blacksmith hammer, he deepened his resolve in his decision, pushing away all the doubts and hopes he had away. Slowly, he resolved himself to his reality.