A/N This is a mostly alternate ending story, since I've started it a very long time ago. It's loosely based on everyone (and especially a few characters I find very interesting) but should be Arya/Gendry centered. This first chapter was mostly for the meeting of the characters I could use to write in their POV's. Again, I repeat, it should mostly be Arya's and Gendry's POV. The story would most probably have a positive ending, and wouldn't be too long, but you'd better stay tuned to be certain! I'll do my best with this, enjoy!

Summary: The consequences of the won War on both sides of the Wall and a story of two people who were most definitely not meant to be highborn. Little bit of everything in here!

A longer summary to explain things that would have taken too long if they were to be included directly in the story:

Jon, Bran, Rickon, Sansa and Arya are the only Starks left. Jon is legitimized by Daenerys once she won the Throne back. He manages to leave the Night's Watch to help in rebuilding Winterfell. No one's heard of Arya in a long time.

Daenerys and her dragons are accompanied at King's Landing by her almost faithful Small Council. Lord Baelish is still somewhere inside the city, out of their reach. Stannis Baratheon was killed by one of his men when trying to shoot down a dragon.

Gendry stuck with the Brotherhood, being a faithful soldier and a blessed smith, and above all, a knight. The Brotherhood is now taking their duty as arresting anyone rebelling against the new, precious Queen of Old. Lady Stoneheart remains with them with no explanations of her future plans.

Cersei and Jaime Lannister died on the same day, Jaime being struck down by a tail of Daenerys's dragon, bleeding to death, with Cersei screaming on top of him until someone (of a fragile, lean built, with a hood covering their face) stabbed her in the back to stumble on top of her dying brother, now disappearing herself. Myrcella remained with her husband to be, and Tommen was taken care of by Tyrion, who lost his love by her protecting him during the attack.

No one knows what happened to the Tyrells. But everyone knows Starks are dying out.

And only a few know there is still one Baratheon alive.

JON

Jon's original plan was to only be of help in Winterfell and stay until the Kingdoms stabilized. He thought his authority on the Wall could be replaced, even with the Wildlings barely peaceful under the protection of the Wall's guardians. His authority with the more 'civilized' people was the most needed. The more they knew, the more they were capable of, and Jon found his heart aching for the simple tactics in defending the Wall before these dirty mind games when he was truly never fond of the same. Bran insisted Jon played the part of the Lord of Winterfell until there was no other choice but to return to the Wall. Bran promised him all the help he could muster in his brain and wits, and true to his word, he was with Jon on every council, in every moment when there was a decision to be made.

But then the things got complicated. Obviously, more than half of the Westeros adored the new Queen. Her kindness towards them has been more than unexpected with taking the recent monarchs in the view, but her dragons played the huge part, too. No one dared make her day unpleasant.

There had been problems, though. The Small Council consisted of Daenerys, her Dothraki commander, her army's Commander, the Spider and Tyrion Lannister. Too little variety for her people, as she had said in her letter to Winterfell, and she demanded either Jon's best recommendation for men to take in or, which she preferred, his own presence at the Council's meetings. There he had faced a problem. One of them, at least.

The other, closely related to the former matter, was his doubt in the cause of Queen's actions. He had been sure, as it was purely logical (Bran supported this first theory but also was the one to bring the less pure one), that her insistence on him in King's Landing was because she wanted the North and the South to be as close as possible, their people and lords in contact and the good relations she cherished so deeply at their strongest. Further on, it would make a reasonable sense into bringing another mighty House in the Council, and also, as Jon was very popular among the people, it would make even the ones displeased about her reign a little less worried. As the War had shown to all the Westeros, Jon was a younger, stronger and even more honourable version of Ned Stark. They would also call him The Commoner, since his childhood had not been easy as a bastard, and they thought he knew them better, understood them dearer than any Lord might. He helped that theory, of course, by proving it with his kindness towards everyone in every step.

But Danerys Targaryen was also fooling herself, Bran claimed. She had a soft spot for the Lord of Winterfell. Even more of one for the person the lord truly was.

During the month it took them to fight off the White Walkers, Daenerys was taken care of in the best possible way by Jon's orders and with him almost daily present around her. When she came from battles, he would make them be certain she was neither hurt nor hungry before she was to rest. There was always one of his most trusted men with her, alarming him of everything the Queen might have been in danger of. These actions of his made her heart a little warmer even in the cold ice the Wall harboured, and her smiles and looks of gratitude made his own broken heart mend like a sword in a smith's hand.

As the situation in both Wars, in Westeros and beyond the Wall has only lately been made better, Jon feared refusing to take his rightful part in the Council would upset Queen's reign and, well, heart.

As much as the fondness in their relationship made him want to be close to her, it also hurt him for being something he should never have, which made him want to go as far from her as possible.

But his was only one of countless hearts in Seven Kingdoms, so he took his family's, and especially Bran's, advice, and sent a letter to the court with the date of his arrival.

DAENERYS

The new Queen had never thought her land would be as broken and filthy as it was when it was officially and finally hers again. Least of all she had expected the love she bear for it to be even stronger at the sight of the broken, filthy people. This was her place, she knew, like she knew slaves were never meant to be and dragons were never made for earth. Her place in which she would mend the broken and clean the filthy. She would help and bring glory back in the shape not one living soul had ever known. She knew books would be written about her, songs and legends, and although she could not know for herself which adjective they would give her, she knew there would be many, and most certainly all positive.

King's Landing lacked in the beauty she saw in the rest of the land. It was purely lacking in justice. People, common people, were thrown in the streets like rats, while highborns enjoyed their every breath. So she changed things.

After less than 6 moons in her reign (after the White Walker's War), the streets were cleaned of both filth and beggars. The lords and ladies were given less and the common folk never starved anymore. Mysterious killings happened no more, and murders all in all were as rare as they would ever be.

And King's Landing was a royal place once again.

The answer to her letter came on a warm day and brought a kind of a storm in her heart. She almost chastised herself for being so childish – she would have, but for chastising herself she had to first admit to herself she was feeling rather more than what was convenient towards a certain man who was until recently called a bastard of North.

Next day, as the Small Council was seated, she informed them of the newcomer amongst themselves. As she spoke in the calmest voice she possessed, stating more logical reasons than necessary on this matter, she sounded all but logical to her shaky mind. The Queen was being put under too much stress in the most recent events.

Nevertheless, Jon Stark, former Snow, former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, was to arrive with an unknown number of guests in less than a two moons notice.

TYRION

It was meant to take a lot to forget the pain he felt upon his most recent loss, but Tommen made the hollow parts of him cover themselves with yet remarkable speed.

Tyrion was never described as firstly kind or fatherly, but with his logic, sense and intelligence came a certain responsibility. He had an increasing amount of guilt inside of his gut, and with every twisted, bad, wrong, unfair thing he had or had not done purposely, he felt the affection towards the innocent, broken and weak blossom.

When Tommen Lannister came under his protection, there was nothing Lannister about him. He was yound and, all in all, nothing but another child. He had cried a lot during the first few weeks; his mother, father, brother, sister and uncle all missing, the boy felt confusion towards every single normal thing in the day. But as he was taught that Tyrion was the one to help him through the daily routine from now onwards, Tommen came to smile more often, run freely around the house, frighten the horses and stuff his nose anywhere near Tyrion's business. Then came the questions: at least 400 in a day. Tyrion was tired, but very pleased to have his nephew rely on his uncle to be the main character with all the answers. When after three nights staying awake for far too long Tommen fell asleep on Tyrion's lap while the man was describing the Wall to the boy, Tyrion almost let the water glide out of his eyes.

As much as the boy has suffered the loss of his mother and other uncle, Tyrion had suffered the loss of his siblings. To see one small person as Tommen escape from the family's burden of sick ideas made him as happy as the sight of his dead sibling lying upon one another made him burst in angst. It made him as happy as seeing Shae laughing after their restless nights. It made him as happy as much as seeing her fall, when the arrow meant for him hit her instead as she moved in front of him, made him want to receive one, too.

It took more than a lot of effort, but Tyrion, as much as a dwarf, was a man grown, succeeded in carrying Tommen to his bed. There, Tommen whimpered suddenly when being left in the cold bed, and the boy's eyes opened shortly before muttering "I saw Mother's hair on a spike and her face was still inside it". So Tyrion sat down in a chair, all during the night holding Tommen's hand and softly leaking from the corners of his eyes. Salty traces were gone by morning, but for a long time Tyrion could feel the warmth of his nephew's hand in his.

Tyrion Lannister had more honour than weight and height combined. He had more intelligence, or honesty, or goodness within his character than all the Lannister gold. He might have even had more intelligence than his father Tywin, had it not been for the fact that Tyrion was actually a good man. No good comes without a sacrifice, and no bad man has ever felt himself sacrificing anything.

So, when Daeneryis Targaryen came to take her rightful place at the Iron Throne, Tyrion didn't madly fight her as not only a minority of others had until she proved herself worthy. No, Tyrion didn't wait for her to prove herself. He waited for her to unravel herself.

Once he saw the look upon her face with his own eyes witnessing, when she was met with the terror of people and chaos in King's Landing, the Imp concluded she was worthy enough to be called Daenerys the Good. But as she collected herself just as quickly, the man knew she could as well be given the name of the Brave. Brave people knew to be stupid; and for standing still stubborn in her opinions of ruling the place that hasn't felt peace in so long, Daenerys could well have been stupid.

But when she ordered to bring three servants at random from any tower in the Court and questioned them about the state of the city, talking to them like they were just as noble as she, Tyrion knew she was kind. When she continued her actions towards the slaves and servants in the same matter as the first three, treating them better than fat lords and bitch ladies, Tyrion felt a confident smirk form on his face.

The Queen was wise.

The intelligent could well see who but them was also capable of manipulating minds. But the wise could see who else was able to help the weak and hurt the strong. The wise could separate the good and the bad, but they would also accept the simplest truth: most of the intelligent ones were the biggest of fools.

Tyrion took it for granted even before they spoke that he and the Queen would soon be in each other's trust. Sometimes Tyrion was reckless. Sometimes he lacked experience. Sometimes he overrated or underrated people. But the cruelty in the most recent times made his mind sharper and his heart bigger.

Tyrion was right.

It took her three weeks after Jon Stark was declared part of the council to finally come to him with guilt and truth on her face.

She rode her fastest dragon to Casterly Rock (Tyrion was feeling the bittersweet pleasure of being the one in command of the place) where he was sitting in the garden with his nephew, telling him the most precious stories of North. The child was becoming rather invested in matters concerning their cold neighbours with warm hearts.

She walked to him without a word. Tyrion needn't look up to know it was her; the sharp, fast clacking of her boots was original in the area.

"I've been wondering when you would finally present your honest thoughts on Commander Snow." Tyrion said calmly as she settled on the bench beside Tommen, who looked at the man and woman before excusing himself and taking Tyrion's book with him. Tyrion fondly smiled at the little thief for they had shared the same attraction towards the words, before he turned to face the Queen who had already caught the softness in him with her own eyes.

Although pleased to witness such affection and happiness, which she obviously was, her glare was sharp when she spoke.

"You are mistaken, my dear lord. The right title and name for the thought man would now be Lord Stark." Her voice was so soft and dear that Tyrion often wondered if she had to practice to bring the authority's coldness into it.

"My dear Dany, I fear you are the one in the wrong light." Tyrion softly tapped her palm after taking her hand into his. She had such small hands, being so young and small herself, that he could barely imagine himself a dwarf he was beside her. It made her becoming his friend a lot easier. "Lord Stark he may be now for all we know; but we both know he's grown to feel as a bastard, just as you have grown to despise slavery by being one yourself. You are so frustrated by it you could never stand to look at someone in the similar condition, reminding you of your time as one, am I not correct?"

"Still, he is a lord – "

"For now, as I've said." Tyrion shrugged. "Do not pretend the rumours and whispers aren't stuck in your thoughts. Jon, whether Stark or Snow, had never meant himself to be a lord for long. His honour and duty come first, so the Wall serves as his certain future."

Dany sat beside him for a while, just looking at the skies with a frown on her lovely face. "A respectable queen should not be disturbed by these thoughts. A good, honourable queen would not bother concerning herself or her dearest friend" she gave Tyrion a light smile, "with such matters."

There were times when Tyrion would have used the chance to mock her or just snort. There were times when Tyrion would even advise her not to give in for she had more important business. But these were new, tough times, and Tyrion couldn't speak of none of those.

"Dany, my only Queen, a matter of affection is not a matter that should ever be entwined with work or duty. That is why the Night's Watch, the toughest duty to ever be done, has their vows. They know the danger. After a while, everyone learns the danger. No matter whether you're a Crow, a Wildling, a smith or a queen. But what I have learned is that it cannot, this affection, be born purposely and cannot be killed willingly. Once it is there, the worst thing you can do is try to make it go away." Tyrion kept his eyes well fixed on Dany's. She looked like a child just then, and he thought maybe he wasn't such a poor fatherly figure at all. Although modesty would not be one of his virtue to imprint upon his 'children'. "If you try to make it go away, you hurt yourself, you hurt that person, you make yourself even more miserable and not only do you suffer, your duty suffers, too, and you, my Queen, are in no position to danger your duty. That is one thing you should never allow come near you."

Dany frowned even deeper. "Such wise words you give me, my friend. But how can I escape the danger when a single man has been able to capture my thoughts more than this whole Kingdom for more than a moon?"

Tyrion laughed and tapped her knee. "Love we can manage. And your thoughts are your own, so as long as you answer the questions as good as possible, no one will know you're not thinking of taxes, but of Lord Jon's strong hands."

SANSA

Sansa was offered to be taken to South with Jon's party, but no one was shocked when she refused it as fast as the words could allow her. After all the terror, cold, dull sky and calm, peaceful, silent atmosphere of North was making her more into her father than she had ever been.

She had not missed the fabulous gowns or the popular lords. She had not missed the morning's, noon's, afternoon's and night's gossips. She had not missed the way she was adored. She had not missed the way she was always inside the gossips she heard. All that she cared, all of it was now irrelevant.

What war does to a human…

Sansa had not been as affected by the battlefield wars they've led. She had been affected by the one in the Court, the one she got into by being taken as a future Lannister, Tyrell, or Lannister again. She had been affected so deeply that although the war was over, it had taken her moons and moons to stop the one inside her. Rickon helped more than Bran or Jon did. Bran was too wise for her, and words did not help. Jon was always only Arya's. Neither Jon or Sansa understood each other, although the love between them was always strong. But little Rickon, still a child, an emotional one at that, would always know if she needed him to grasp her from her swirling thoughts by hugging her or smiling and laughing or when she was needed to be irritated so he would be scolded and she would be distracted. He had done it so well, that after 4 moons she found Rickon to be a regular sleeper in her bed, where he would seek whatever resemblance Sansa and their mother shared, and she would seek for something good to hold onto. So his little body would be tucked underneath her chin and she would bring her arms around him, and when he felt water falling onto his head, he would hold her hands so firmly it would hurt in the best way.

After all, Sansa had not lost only half of her family, her home, her peace and herself. She had also lost the only man besides the ones she had blood connection to, to ever be kind and loving towards her. The Hound. It hurt a lot to acknowledge the emptiness caused by the tall man. It felt better, though, to know at least that affection had been pure.

The morning Jon was supposed to leave, all the Starks huddled in the smallest room there was in the castle to breakfast together. They brought blankets and lots of food and even wine and sat on the floor and laughed for hours as they have awakened earlier to spend every last moment together.

After all the food had gone away and half of the wine was shared between Jon and Sansa, the laughter began to fade.

"I'm going to send a few men away when we get somewhere in the middle of the journey." Jon said in a husky voice. He coughed.

"Where?" Sansa silently asked with understanding note in her eyes while the other two asked 'why'.

"To the forests around Harrenhall and the Twins. I wanted to search those parts for myself, but it would make no difference whoever goes, and besides, I just…" Jon trailed off, too lost in the memories of the letter with the worst news he had ever been aware of in his life. Fortunately, Bran saved him the terror of being stuck inside those memories.

"You're sending them to look for Arya." The boy (well, he was almost a man now) whispered. "You believe she's still alive."

"Ghost has felt Nymeria dozens of times." Jon said harshly, defending himself.

"You don't have to explain, I've seen Nymeria, too. I mean, we've. Summer and me." Bran frowned. His abilities were becoming a daily presence. It was of some help, though.

"Shaggy Dog sometimes howls and although I can't hear any howling in return, he sometimes barks happily and howls again. It happens rarely, but it's still something." Rickon said with big, pleading eyes.

Sansa's heart broke at the thought of Rickon having his hope awakened just to be crushed again.

"I think we shouldn't rely on wolves." She said firmly as she pulled Rickon closer and underneath her own blanket. "It is nice to send someone to seek her out, but we should not rely on sentiments and hope. She's Arya. I'm sorry, but if she was alive, I think we'd know it."

"Sansa… if she is alive, then she almost certainly travels either alone or as a fugitive. She wouldn't even know any of us is still alive." Bran said.

"And after all, of all of us, she's be the one I'd bet on to survive anything." Jon added.

"Dad once said," Rickon sniffed, "she and her direwolf shared the same capabilities. That must mean she can defend herself and bite bad people?"

As others agreed, Sansa was thrown off by the accuracy of Rickon's memory. She stared blankly at the top of his head as realizations came hitting.

Their direwolves must have been somehow similar to them, to their rawest nature. And as wild as Nymeria was, as capable and independent Sansa had learned the wolf was, separating from the rest whenever she was sure it was for the best, the young woman was now frightened more than ever for her younger sister.

Nymeria didn't bite. Shaggy Dog, Summer, Ghost, even Lady when she was alive, would bite.

Nymeria was the only one Sansa had seen kill.

And as she looked up to see Jon staring at her, Sansa mouthed the words that kept repeating in her head.

Nymeria doesn't bite. She kills.

GENDRY

The forge was almost empty when the bells rang. Gendry's head shot up in surprise rather than shock; the war was over, both of them actually, and only one third of the Brotherhood was at their camp. When in the matter of moments, before the last bell rang, the forge turned into rattling mess of Brothers seeking for weapon and armours, Gendry calmly wiped his hands and threw on only the lightest of the armours he could find. His hammer was close enough so he was one of the first to step out in the night air.

Gendry has been all around in the last few years, the years it took to battle and calm. He had been near King's Landing with Thoros and few chosen, sneaking out Sansa Stark to take her to the hideout of her brother Jon, he had been at the Twins when the Frey's fell and their lord was killed, he had been even beyond the Wall, fighting the most chaotic of the Wildlings as the dragons and a huge army fought the White Walkers and the almost civilized number of Wildlings fought by his side. He hadn't been recognized as anyone worth Queen Cersei attention, nor had Sansa Stark noticed his staring when he tried to see any resemblance to her sister – there was only a slight similarity in the way she stared down at everyone as a defence mechanism, but Sansa Stark had a beauty in her that Arya would never be able to keep on her outer appearance. He knew Arya's ghost of mother – Lady Stoneheart, but he had never once talked to her about anything but his identity, after which he stayed away from her. It had been partially because he was so repulsed with the truth of his existence, but mostly because of the unnatural state of a both dead and living woman once called Lady Catelyn Stark.

He was one of the most trusted in the Brotherhood, keeping peace amongst drunken nights along with Thoros, although a few times it was Thoros who needed treatment (especially after Dondarrion's passing). He was a knight, a blacksmith, he was a strong bull and a silent companion in any battle, whether verbal or physical. He was a good thing for everyone in the Brotherhood. They liked his presence and survival of the wars. No one loved him but Thoros, though.

And now he was dead, too.

Gendry stood in the second row as they listened to the sound of horses and people nearing them. he was in the shadow enough not to be noticed and close enough to hear and see the majority of events to take place. He even cast a reluctant glance towards her, since he knew she was always there, her hatred and passion for blood ever present. It didn't surprise him to see her looking back at him, but as always, his skin felt colder at the sight of her unhuman eyes. He wished Thoros had less honour when he was still alive. He wished they had killed her together as they always aspired to do.

The clatter became even louder and Gendry knew from experience they were closing around the corner, when the first horse stomped into the light. A small yelp escaped a few of his companions at the sight of strong, healthy horses bearing riders from the North. Shields and armoury were lowered at almost the same moment first of them had recognized their friends.

Gendry held his hammer tight and ready to pounce just in case this was some kind of a trick, but when the first rider jumped down and took off his helmet, he instantly lessened the power which he gripped his weapon with.

"In the name of the Lord Stark of Winterfell, we were sent into a mission given to us by directly Jon Stark himself."

Gendry looked quickly to his right to see Lady Stoneheart glaring at the man and rubbing her palms. He smirked as he remembered the girl who was once this lady's daughter telling him how little fondness there was between Ned Stark's son and Ned Stark's wife for not sharing the same blood, and for the child being the constant reminder of Eddard's betrayal.

The man of the North continued: "We were not aware of your accurate location, we were only told by Lord Stark of the forest you would be in. He sent us here to see if there were any of you willing to help our mission or offer at least some information."

The current Commander (they have been changing too fast since Thoros' death for Gendry to remember the names) stepped up and spoke with a tiny bit of mockery in his voice. This man was not of Gendry's good affection. He did not think the man had deserved as high position as he had gained. He did not believe he would present the Brotherhood well.

"You seek for help without giving any explanation on what it's needed for. An information you also require might need some clearance before we can say anything."

The men behind the one who spoke in Stark's name began to mutter unhappily. There were around 50 of them, and Gendry could hardly believe they were anyone but Jon's most trusted. This must have been an important matter.

"We have better manners than to discuss Lord Stark's problems in open with many ears able to hear what was not meant for them." the soldier said, gritting his teeth and forcing politeness.

"Then let us head for a better place, a closed place, with less ears unworthy of this mission." Said the man next to Commander. Commander gave him a sharp glare but did not speak, and the man did not bother playing ashamed. A good lad, this was, although his hair was partially white and his voice was older than most.

In the inn he had visited on the first day he met the Brotherhood, when he still had a girl pretending to be a boy by his side, Gendry was a part of the small bundle of men discussing the mission. He was not sure why anyone would choose him to be a part of the discussion, but his identity was not a secret, at least not to the Brotherhood, and the man who spoke instead of the Commander sounded rather hasty for him to join them. He saw a knowing spark in the older man's eyes, and could judge the man had a good guess on why the Winterfell's most trusted were with them that night.

He learned soon the man's name was Remmer and he was in Brotherhood's service for almost 20 years. He named all the present (there were only 7 of the Brothers) and asked for the names of the soldiers.

"Hold on, you've said everyone's full names except of the smith's." As soon as the North's soldier pointed that out, a weird irony presented itself to Gendry; 7 of the new Gods, seven of the Brothers, and Gendry was a smith. "Sounds a bit misty I'd reckon. If you wouldn't mind?"

"Gendry Waters." The smith said when Remmer gave him a questioning glance.

"Pardon me, I cannot always remember everyone's names." Remmer smiled. Gendry knew this wasn't the truth though; Remmer was wordlessly asking him to choose how he would be known – but Gendry was never legitimized, and there was no reason for him to state he was a Baratheon even if he wanted to be. Which he wasn't sure of.

"All right, well, we'd better get to the thing." Serwyn, which was the name of the first soldier, sighed and leaned his elbows on their table. There were only three of the soldiers; the rest were sent to catch some sleep. "You're probably all familiar with the names and fates of each and every child the Starks have had."

Remmer nodded. "Five of the Starks left only."

Serwyn raised his eyebrows. "I'd reckon the last time I saw them it was four. Lord Jon, Lady Sansa, and their two brothers, Bran and Rickon."

"What of Lady Arya?"

"She's our mission, Ser, missing since Eddard Stark was beheaded."

Gendry felt his heart falter for a second; Arya wasn't in Winterfell. Arya never came home. How had he never wondered if she's there? His mind was certain on her safety and survival – she was to go to the Wall one day, see Jon, and go back to Winterfell. It was her plan (well, not counting the murders she planned) as well. "Arya escaped King's Landing and passed through this camp, but we haven't heard of her since."

Serwyn looked at Gendry like he was shocked the boy had a voice. "That's new."

"New?", Gendry asked with little kindness, "She passed here 5 years ago!"

"Boy." Remmer warned him. He turned towards the soldiers. "He is right, though, the girl was our guest for a while."

"Do you know where she went?" Serwyn asked with a glint of hope in his eyes, and Gendry's stomach flipped. No, they didn't know, because she disappeared after a small fight with him of all the people.

"She was planning on returning to Winterfell, that's for sure." Remmer sighed. "I'm not the one to ask about the details, but I know that was the end for her as she planned it. Everyone knew that."

Serwyn's jaw clenched and his muddy eyes reversed their attention towards Gendry. Coldly, he said: "And you, boy?"

Gendry was shocked for the first time since the war. "What me, Ser?"

"Are you to be asked about 'er in more detail?"

Gendry shared a quick look with Remmer, who nodded. Gendry was not even sure why he was seeking Remmer's allowance, for these were the good ones. Good men. Winterfell's, Stark's and Arya's men. "I was, erm, to say her companion till we reached the camp."

"Companion? Not something more I dare say, or Lord Stark will – "

"No, no, no, Ser, I assure you, she pretended to be a boy for the whole trip to be safer from danger."

"Were you the danger?" Serwyn teased, with only a little honest curiosity in his words.

"No, Ser, I knew she was a girl."

"How?"

Gendry stared at him in annoyance and disbelief. "How?! Ser, you might not know me, but one thing I'm not is stupid!"

Serwyn looked at Remmer to check if any anger had risen, but Remmer was as calm as possible. "I'd put that to questioning."

After the men had laughed enough and Gendry gave them a few forced smiles, Serwyn continued.

"So what of your companionship then? Are you to be of any help for us or do you have nothing?"

Gendry swallowed when he realized how stupid he truly was. He couldn't help but feel the blood drain from his face. If there was any stupidity in guessing she was safe for all these years, this was million times worse. He realized there would be nothing good after he gave them his answer.

"Arya was planning on joining her mother and brother's army."

"What do you mean – she never got to them! She couldn't have! There was no notice – "

"By the Seven." Remmer's whisper cut off Serwyn's shouting. The horrified look on the man's face was equal to Gendry's. The other men began to realize just as he whispered again. "The Red Wedding."

Gendry had never missed Arya's insults more than that moment.

ARYA

She hadn't had a single drop of water on her skin for almost three days. Her breaths were short and shallow and her eyes saw no better than they would in the dark. Her skin was rough and her lips were painful. She couldn't move quiet if the Old Gods ordered her to. Not that she would have any reason to listen to them anyway.

She was tired, though.

She sighed as she sat down and leaned against a tree. She should have known running off into woods just because she heard a wolf didn't mean it was Nymeria or that she could find her way back. Even if she could, her luck wouldn't be any better. The river she was heading for was almost two days walk from the place on the road she had last been on.

Those were her sloppy, slow thoughts as she closed her eyes to try to think whether she would let herself die or think of solutions.

What do we say to the God of Death?

She opened her eyes and groaned in effort of pushing herself up to her feet.

"That 'e sh – should better o' send some water" she slurred over her words.

Be patient. Use your senses.

That she did.

It took her almost a whole day to find the river, but once she did, it seemed half of her sickness was taken away by the lone sight of it.

Afterword, she would know it had been a miracle for her to survive almost 4 days without water, but for Arya Stark of Winterfell who was no longer the girl she was when someone last called her that (around 5 years ago), stranger things have happened.

As soon as she knew she could stand straight and bear the weight of her own body, she stripped her dirty clothes off. She had to wear even more layers now than ever before, because her age seemed to bring out that she wasn't a boy at all. It didn't matter in the last few moons though, because her body had lost almost all there ever was of the meat on her bones, and the only thing that could lead anyone to thinking she could be a girl was the hair she hadn't cut in two years, now coming down almost to the middle of her back. It was thin, dry and suddenly Arya was struck with the thought of her appearance being more of a Wildling one than any other person's in Westeros.

She huffed in annoyance and slid into the water. She was still too weak to swim or let the current take her, so she held onto the ground above her as the waves crashed in.

She had to get her strength back – she had to gain some weight and find a way to King's Landing, where she would find that pig Baelish and get the burden of his life away from everyone's back.

He was the only one she wanted to kill right now, and there were three reasons (which she had learned by being invisible near to drunken men and women and their gossips) each more selfish than the other:

1 – no one was able to find him although he kept mocking them with traces of his presence in the capitol itself – she was certain it was her, with all the training and knowledge of the city who would be able to find him;

2 – he plucked into everything that could have went right and made it wrong, and above all, thought he deserved Catelyn Tully more than Ned Stark even when she herself became a Stark;

3 – he was a bad, bad person who could only do more harm.

Arya had only been back from the Free Cities and instead of seeking out her family who she had not seen for over 5 years, she was jumping into the cruellest act she could have mustered up. But Arya was angry, and in the time she was away, each they had stripped away something of her that belonged to Starks. It was her only hope that once she satisfied her need for vengeance and blood of those who deserved death more than anyone, she would be able to calm herself and go back to her wild, peaceful North, where her family would be complete once again, and Jon would never go back to the Wall, and Father would never leave them for the honour and duty, and Bran wouldn't fall of that tower because no one would push him anywhere where his sister wouldn't catch him.

Arya Stark had become delusional, and as the process of madness took over her poor soul, she was even more dangerous than she ever was.

She had been by the river for two days, scrubbing her clothes clean, hunting and eating more than she ever had, wanting to regain as much energy as she could; she ate 5 squirrels and 2 rabbits in those two days. She found leaves she could boil and plants with juices Maester Luwin praised as healthy for hear and skin. She found everything she needed to make the potion and wash herself with it. She did all she could to get herself away from the Wildling's looks. In the end, she pulled the ends of her hair in front of her eyes to see it was regaining some of its natural, strong, dark colour and firmness. Her skin felt smoother once she had rubbed it with potion and water so many times her lip started bleeding at the effort she was chewing on it in annoyance. Her clothes now only looked old and boyish, but she could hide her hair under a cap and walk with slumped shoulders so no one (even though she doubted she would meet anyone soon) could even guess there were breasts on her chest, no matter how small.

She continued walking up the river she knew would lead her to another which would lead her to the road for King's Landing. It took her almost a full moon to get to the road, but by then, she had eaten so much meat she was stronger than she was maybe even during her time in Braavos, and she hoped she would also get some fat on herself soon, too. That would make her more secure for the times that could easily happen, when she wouldn't be able to hunt much or find anything to eat.

When she came to the road, she decided to stay behind the trees whenever she heard the clattering of horse shoes, and wait till she saw what kind of a person would come by. She had decided, although she was more than disgusted by the idea of pretending to be so unintelligent, that if she saw a good chance, she would straighten her back and take the hair out of the cap and make herself seen as a poor, lost girl. Probably robbed, too, so the person would take her with them wherever she wanted.

It just so happened that her plan worked almost as soon as she figured it out; she was walking down the road for less than an hour, when she heard a horse. She saw a man with a carriage in which his little daughters were placed, motherless and poor, and of course, the kind man had enough compassion to let her accompany them as far as she wanted. He was heading for King's Landing, too, so Arya was as happy as she could've been.

She had a nice chat with the children, who brought a rare smile with only pure thoughts upon her face, and the girls looked up at her and stared. Upon asking what was wrong, the youngest, only 5 at the time, explained with no restriction.

"You are very pretty, miss."

She had never thought anything like such words would ever bring tears, but Arya became more broken in every way possible, so it wasn't a big shock to sense wetness in her eyes. She had not let them slip, of course, but this was the first time she had talked to a child without being one herself, and she realized that not every girl in the world was so bad – as children, they were so naïve, innocent and beautiful in everything and the looks.

Maybe it was all the years she had spent yearning for revenge, maybe it was that she wasn't a child anymore, but being told she was pretty for once hadn't made Arya Stark feel mocked or unworthy. It made her feel pleasant.

The warmness inside her lasted until they were less than half a league away from King's Landing, when from the inside of the carriage, three females were shocked by a roar louder than any sound they have ever heard.

Looking out, Arya was as frightened as she ever could have been.

"Dragons."

A/N (once again) - Reminding you to review if you had managed to put up with my words till the end! Whether it's positive or negative, your comment on this would either make my day or save any other poor souls from reading a rotten fanfiction. I don't mind, as long as you give this a chance.