AN: This little story is an alternate universe. The plot may parallel to the novels or television series in some aspects, but mostly it's based on a story idea I had which I never got the chance to write. Enjoy x

Disclaimer – I own none of these characters, the ASOIAF series, television series, the title (It belongs to Stars), Mischa Maisky, Great Ormond Street Hospital, or any of the other things mentioned here that I missed


.:. Chapter 1 .:.


There weren't many female figures Arya knew who could resist the urge to spend a great sum of money on one piece of shirt. She herself is no stranger to the temptations of giving in to desires. But unlike her neighbour Margery Tyrell, she still had resistance. At the end of the day all she really needs is her iPod, worn out sneakers, DSLR, a spare film, a pen, and the little book that reminds her of it. She has watched Bill Cunningham say with amusement the lesson she learned which he himself had learned from his bridge, "Use it [the camera] like a pen." And so she had, to capture regular the musings of the world, to make a replica of her angel's toothless smile, and to remind her of what happens when it all crashes down.

"She's a tender age of sixteen, she."

"Gillian, shut your trap, boy!"

"Well she got herself knocked up. Do you think people won't talk, woman? No!"

"At the very least, give her some space. She's done nothing to you and Lord knows how much the girl's been through-"

"Hey," called a breathy voice that didn't belong. Arya looked to her right to find the source of disruption to her black and white movie night. Unsurprisingly, it was the young man whom Arya had invited to this small night picnic of hers. He was wearing his work attire that consists of a fancy tie, tailored suits including a waistcoat, and gleaming shoes. As amusing as she found this sight to be, the tiredness that was caused today tugged at her heart and she finally relented.

The girl lets out the same whispery reply before scooting over the blanket and heaps of pillows stretched out on damp grass. In a swift movement, the blond intruder invites his companion closer to his chest, his arm securely around her, her head on his shoulder. His gentle exhales blew her brunette locks softly. Whilst the young man's left hand traces circles on his lady's palms, the other busied itself with the little bundle between the couple.

This was her tradition. On the third Saturday nights of the month, Arya would watch movies in the park where they held free screenings. She would lay down the picnic blanket, pillows, and lushes of drinks and foods. Sometimes she would go alone, sometimes in a big group. It all depends on the mood and tonight it was just the three of them.

"Where have you been?" sighed Arya.

"I was caught up with work, I'm sorry. Did you wait long?"

"No, it's fine. We had a stroll around the park when Sans wouldn't stop crying"

He chuckled, "Did she give you a hard time?"

"No more than necessary."

"Good," he smiled.

The male of the two carefully caressed the baby propped up in Arya's arms. His smile warmed at the sight of the baby brunette who kept on sleeping. Her little curls were tinged with subtle golden streaks. Cheeks pink and plump, eyes, if open, were sky blue.

"Can you believe it's only been a few months?" inquired the young man.

"Since this little miracle came to this world?"

He looked into her eyes, his own orbs reflecting the answer.

"I know," and she did. Trying to comfort him, she nudged his jaw, only to find herself wrapped in a tighter embrace.

Amongst the other watchers that lay across their own piles of picnic blankets, food, and wine, the three on this grey square flooring felt the most peaceful. As the movie continued, Mattia kissed the little one on the nose and proceeded to kiss his own lady's temple. She gave out a chuckle and turned back towards the screen.

"Don't get all sentimental on me now, Mattia."

"As my lady commands," teased he.

Her glare that came afterwards said a lot.

Gendry Waters is not a man of love. He never shared a bed with anyone before and he shunned out those related by blood to him, sparing his mother. The young lawyer knew of his father, Robert Baratheon, who had come to him asking for a chance that he might come to Robert's office and work with the old fool. Gendry said no. He wouldn't work with the sod that saw his mother as a mere piece of meat and kept them out on the edge of life without even caring to glance. Gendry's own success to this day proved his capability as a self-made man who did not need a bastard of a father. He wouldn't have it any other way even if the road was long and hard.

"The final ones, I see," Gendry looked up to find Hot Pie leaning on their doorframe as his hands continue to pick up the last of his belongings.

"Yeah."

"Why do you have to move? I mean look at all the fun we had!"

"You mean all the times I wake up on the floor because you decided to be scared of everything and 'cuddle' with me?"

"Well I can't help it, mother says it's an ailment!"

"What, your existence?"

The chubby one pouted, "That wasn't very nice."

"And I couldn't stand any of your snoring anymore. Sorry, mate."

"I do not snore!"

"Yes, you do," he smirked.

"No, I don't-"

"What, snore?" asked Lommy who had just walked into the room, "Yeah you do. You need help there, mate?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Hot Pie and Lommy were Gendry's flatmates. The former works as a baker and the latter a doctor, believe it or not. Hot Pie's love for food is thoroughly expressed through the amount of time he spends around them... and his name. Apparently, his mother was eating what she thought was the greatest apple pie she ever tasted when she was pregnant with the child. And so, out of ideas and deeply infatuated with the pie, she named the child Hot Pie. The love for anything gustatory really runs in the family.

Lommy on the other hand is known for his cynical personality and even more notorious for being scared of blood. He can't really explain why he decided to become a doctor, a surgeon. To this day, he still gets queasy at the sight of gore. He's just 'intriguing' that way.

Gendry met them through his contacts. As soon as he graduated law school, he was in dire need of a flat. A few acquaintances of Gendry's introduced him to the two then-already-flatmates. It was only a matter of time before the three of them built some sort of understanding and added a new member to 362 Harrenhal Street.

Now, with Gendry's success blooming and desire for independence burning, he finally decided to move into his own apartment. It's a nice cosy apartment that respects privacy and is closer to his law firm. The majority of the residents there are working adults without any offspring. Meaning, unwanted noise is rare. Today is the day the young man picks up his last possessions from 362 Harrenhal Street and into his new apartment.

"See you, then," he nods as he stopped to look at his two soon to be ex-flatmates.

"Keep in touch."

"I will." A few man hugs and he was off. Off into the new home he hopes brings new opportunities. Oh, it will.

"Sansa, Sansa, no! No!"

Trapped in the world of Mischa Maisky, Arya Stark did not notice the newborn baby that was crawling across the room and picking up what she thought was a white candy. It wasn't candy. The owner of the house barely even knew what it was but she knew it was good. It's meant to keep insects away or drive off the smell of wood or something. Arya knew not what those things are, but she knew they are not to be eaten.

"Spit it out. Spiiit it," cooed Arya. Nothing worked. The mysterious white marble was somewhere inside little Sansa. The older of the two could not open the infant's mouth for a while, but was finally able to. The marble was no longer there.

"Shit!" Arya couldn't help but panic. She instantly rose from where she was sitting on the floor with baby Sans on her left hip. Quick as a lightning, she grabbed her mobile, her wallet, their shoes, the mothball packaging, and the little one's coat. The Stark ran and repeatedly pressed the elevator button going down. Once in and out into the lobby, she dashed some more and dialled Mattia.

"Milady."

"Mattie!" Mattia's spine straightened from where he was sitting on his desk. For all his life, the man never knew Arya to be one for nicknames. The only times she'd ever call someone with a nickname, however simple it may be, is in times of extremities. And from her huffed and puffed shriek over the phone, he knew it was not a good one. He didn't hesitate to ask.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Sansa," huffed Arya once more, "She swallowed one of the white candy looking thing you gave me. The one to keep insects away or something!"

"What!" He wanted to panic too, but Arya was already doing enough of it for two.

"What should I do?"

"Okay, okay, I don't know how serious it is, but I'll ring Ormond and tell them you're coming. I'm going there right now. Just, calm down, okay? Can you get a taxi?"

"I will if a certain someone would stop worrying and hang up the phone," he smirked.

"Sorry, I'll hang up. Get them ready!"

"I will, see you."

"Bye."

"You alright, Tom?"

"I'm fine, sir," smiled the bellboy who had come to help Gendry carry his boxes.

"Huh," mused the new resident, "That was quite a show."

"It was indeed. It's not everyday you get to see a car door slam me on the backside. Did you enjoy it?" He asked with a big grin.

Laughter escaped Gendry's lips. He wouldn't say it, but he did enjoy it. It was amusing though pitiful what his new friend experienced. Tom was just reaching into the car to take his last box of books when out of nowhere came a longhaired brunette in a structured blue dress layered with a tan knit jumper and very high boots. She was carrying a child roughly the age of four on her left hip. From the moment she came out of the double door, Gendry noticed she was on the phone. Judging by the way her face was scrunched up like his normal tablecloth state, he guessed it must have been a very urgent call.

"Can you get there as soon as possible? Get me the first flight out, you hear me? Thanks, Owen."

The young woman glanced down at her phone for a second before feeling a force from behind her. She lost her footing in the crowded street and bumped into the car door that soon kicked Tom further in. He ended up sprawled over the car floor, backside throbbing. The young woman quickly opened the door and gave him a hand, somehow still massing to hold her phone and the child.

"Tom! Oh Gosh, I am so, so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Hey, no, it's fine. Arya, I'm fine. Are you fine, though? You seem to be doing a lot of running."

She cringed, "Yeah, it's nothing, just work. Sorry, I'd love to talk, but I have to go. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am. Go, just go."

"Catch you later, then!"

With a last wave, the young woman ran off.

Throughout the whole exchange, Gendry just stood stunned with his own share of boxes beside the passenger door. It was a very funny sight from where he was standing, but he couldn't help but wonder about the girl in the young woman's arm who looked a tad bit too sleepy to be brought out.

Gendry and Tom now walk down the corridor of the 26th floor towards Gendry's room. They've walked down this path several times now and met as well as bonded over the journey of moving his things.

"So, do you know her?

"Who, the person who bumped into me?"

"Well you can hardly call that bumping, it's more like ramming you in. Yes, her."

"Ha-ha, very funny. And yes, I know Miss Stark. You'll soon learn that the staff knows pretty much everyone in this building."

"Ah, so this is one of those places, eh? I wonder what got her so… rushed. From the way she was running, it must have been something urgent."

Much to Gendry's chagrin, Tom smirked, "Oh, checking out a female 'running,' are we?" Gendry shoved the clumsy lad and got a laugh. "Yes, she did look rather dishevelled, but she said it was just work again."

"Hey, go open the door!"

"Yes, milord," teased the ever helpful Tom with a touch of rolling eyes.

Great Ormond Street Hospital was a bit far from where she was living, but Arya ran like there was no tomorrow for the child she was carrying. By the time they arrived at the hospital, she was asked to review the information Mattia gave the hospital and to give the mothball packaging to the nurses. They took Sansa for some testing whilst she was crying. Arya was teary herself when she was left on the waiting area. She was fairly certain Sans won't need surgery, but who knows. The doctors need to check how dangerous the 'white candy' is first.

Now the panicked girl stood on a somewhat abandoned area, scanning through posters though not reading at all. Her Vans made steady taps on the hospital floor. She probably looked like a mess now with her long hair tied into a messy bun, washed out jeans loose and rolled up at different lengths, and white fitting long-sleeve shirt with thin navy blue stripes making her look like a pirate. She didn't care, though. Arya just wanted to hear the good news and cut off all ties with this thing called "worry."

Without anything else to do, she decided to head down to the vending machine. A few clicks and more pounds later, she got her coffee. She's actually stopped feeding off of them like she would oxygen after Sansa was born, but now she'd give anything to keep herself distracted.

The wolf was sitting on one of the plastic chairs when a figure sat down two chairs away from her. He sipped his coffee and let the silence fall upon them for a while before gathering the courage to talk.

"The coffee's here not the best thing," she snorted, "but it does the job. Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah."

"She'll be alright."

She finally looked up at the man's face. His black hair that's as dark as his eyes deeply contrast his pale white skin. The skinny man wore a white coat with badges - random, colourful ones that clash with his serious spectacled look.

"How do you know she will be? And how do you know she's a she?"

"The doctors here are brilliant, and I saw the commotion."

"Oh."

"So what happened? If you don't mind me asking."

She sighed, "She ate this white marble in the clothes rack. It's silly really to think it won't do much harm."

"Ah, the old mothball. And no, it's not silly. A lot of people have made the same mistake, some even worse."

More silence.

"Do you remember the kind of mothball she ate?"

"What?"

"The white marble she swallowed, its ingredient. It's probably written on the back of the packaging. Was it naphthalene or paradichlorobenzene?"

"Uh, paradichlorobenzene."

"Well, at least the toxic level is lower. What time did this happen?"

"18 minutes ago."

The doctor looked at the wall, calculating, "She'll be alright."

For once, Arya felt slightly relieved. She was also thankful she ran everyday for it seemed to serve a purpose on days such as this. The doctor beside her leaned against the chair, lost in his own train of thoughts until once again he broke the silence.

"Can I just ask- did you run here?"

Arya was getting annoyed at his question, but nonetheless glad for the distraction.

"Yes."

"Wow, where are you from?"

"A sane woman wouldn't give out her home location for safety reasons."

He chuckled, "Ah, but no one is sane in this world."

"Is there a reason you're bothering me, sir?"

"It's not bothering if the other party answers, is it?"

"You are unbelievable. And may I just add your fashion sense is atrocious."

"Coming from the girl with leaves sticking out on her hair."

"Oh, shut up."

The doctor couldn't help but enjoy their banter. He hoped he has a chance in getting more of them in the future, "The next time something like this happens, just ring me."

With an eyebrow raised, Arya watched the man jot down his digits on a piece of paper and hand it to her.

"Is this what you do, then? Comfort strangers one minute, insult them the second, and hit on them the next?"

"Good to know I managed to comfort you."

"Don't give yourself that much credit."

"You don't like it?"

"No."

"Well if you must know, you have the honour of becoming my first victim."

She squinted, "This is your first time running this scheme?"

"It's not a scheme and yes, it is."

"And how do I know you're not lying and you're not actually a manic sexual predator dressed as a doctor?"

"Ouch. The lady knows how to hurt. And you don't, I could show you my credentials, but you'll probably think it's forged or something," he laughed. The girl looked him up, contemplating whether or not she should believe this mysterious doctor. She must admit he does intrigue her though. He reminded her of someone she knew once a long time ago.

"Alright, say I believe you. Why are you doing this?"

"I felt like it."

Arya threw her head back with laughter, "Ha! That's a lame excuse!"

"It is?" mocked the doctor, giving out a wolfish grin.

Finally, she snatched the paper from his grasped and replied, "Yes, it is. And I'll only be calling for professional help. You may not hit on me and you will only serve as an acquaintance."

The doctor laughed, "Alright! But what now, you're taken?"

She smiled and gave no answer.

The doctor could feel where this was going. No, this was not like any of his first meetings with his lovers. He knew that the most this young woman of nineteen in front of him would be is a great friend. You see, this person here had a knack for judging the people's potential. If he knew they'd hit it off, he wouldn't hesitate to approach.

There was something in the way that Arya carried herself that drew him in. Not in a romantic way, no. It was more like when a child found a new object and can't help but explore it. Maybe she had charisma. Lord knows what it was. He'll dig the answer out later but for now, he'd settle for a handshake.

"Then nice to meet you, miss. I'm Owen. Owen Calibre."

"Tasha. Natasha Shepard."

"Arya!" Shouted Mattia's voice from behind her.

"Or not," he simpered.

"What can I say, I'm an onion," she whispered before shooting away to her other company, paper at hand. Owen guffawed whilst shaking his head at the girl whose spirit seems to have lifted just by a fraction.

In a dim hotel room somewhere in Paris, once a girl and now a woman, Arya sat free of emotion on the edge of the bed. When the door clicked open and soon clicked close not long after, she raised her head slightly, eyes still glazing with shock.

"Owen," the tremble that slipped past her throat did not go amiss by the new room occupant's ears. "Ow'n," this time she allowed her face to scrunch up and her voice to pitch up high. Arya allowed her body to buckle, her vocal cord shriek and screech, and tears run pricking treks as her whole body curled. Her heart burnt, it hurt, it hurt so, so much. She felt warmth envelop her shaking form and crumpled into it. Her cries were loud and her face was red. Arya's nail gnawed at her now messy hair and scalp. Her body shook with great force and her muscles spasm without permission. Another screech and she found herself rocked against the only other person in the room in a ball. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Shh, shh…"He didn't know what to say or what to do. The man can't offer her the comfort that she needed. All he could do was this stupid thing. His eyes burned with uninvited tears. He hushed and rocked them back and forth. Cursing he could do nothing but this.


AN: If you haven't already figured it out, Arya's story jumps a lot in time. The events still ascend though and so does Gendry's. Their timelines just don't match up. There will probably be less of this in the next chapters. And since this is the first chapter and therefore only a preview into the magical world of complexities, I decided to hide a lot, that's why it seems rushed. Don't kill me :)