Three days earlier

In the coldness of the night, she smelled the warmth of blood. In the silence of the woods, she heard the sound of a beating heart. The moon bled icily in the sky, and the fire that rippled throughout her body roared in pleasure. She could taste it too, on her breath and teeth. Not just blood, but fear. Delicious fear.

'Arya!'

The ground flowed under her in streaks of scattered sticks and leaves as she ran. Instinct took over as she shot through the thin, sleek bodies of the trees, no longer a thing, or an object, but a shadow. Wild. Powerful. Unstoppable.

'ARYA!'

A voice in the back of her head told her that it was Jon who called out her name, but the voice also didn't seem to care all that much. There was something tugging though, at the pit of her stomach and she knew, somewhere inside, that it had nothing to do with the deer she had just eaten. 'This is wrong,' something whispered. 'This isn't you.'

But it was her. Arya was just a shadow, a dream. The moon's light gleamed bright against the wet leaves of the wood, and she stopped, throwing her head back and howling, relishing the echoing tones, her blood rushing hot with adrenaline. And then she heard it again. The heart beat. It began to pump furiously now, and she licked her lips.

'ARYA!'

Jon again, this time desperately. There was something about the command that wasn't a command, but a plea, and when she took of running towards the beating heart, it felt like she wasn't running forwards, but backwards, like there was a great weight tugging her back. The humanity within her was refusing to let go.

But then she saw him. So delicious, so afraid. She could smell alcohol on him, along with a particular scent of car grease and metal. But it was his blood that sent her claws digging into the earth. She had never had something so mouthwateringly tempting. Human. Human.

Before she knew what she was doing, he was beneath her, her claws now digging into his flesh. His heart was beating so intoxicatingly fast, the blood that ran underneath the soft skin of his throat pulsing. Her mouth watered and she leaned forward, drawing her lips back, a growl in her throat-

He had blue eyes. It was such a stupid, irrelevant fact, but for some reason the sharp blue of them caught her eye, and curiously she cocked her head to one side to take a look, and then suddenly something shift. He was terrified of her. No one had ever looked at her like that, like she was a monster, but this boy did.

"We're not monsters," her father's words rang in her head, "we just have... A sort of... Fury problem."

She wasn't a monster. She wasn't-

'Arya!'

This time it was her father's voice. The Alpha voice. Slowly, she turned and looked at him, and then back at the boy. There was a pause.

And then she slashed his throat apart with her teeth.

"NOOO!" Arya screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed, clutching at her own neck, her heart hammering so hard in her chest that she thought it might explode from her throat. She was covered with sweat and shaking, fear, real fear, rushing through her blood. 'Calm down Arya. Calm down. It was just a dream. You didn't kill him. You would never hurt anyone.'

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"You're fine," she whispered. "Fine."

She hated that nightmare. Hated it, because afterward she always felt scared. Of herself. It was a feeling she loathed more than anything else.

"We're not monsters," she recited under her breath, rubbing her arms up and down, "we've just got a sort of fury problem."

She smiled. That always made her feel better, but for some reason, as soon as she smiled, she felt an icy chill. It was probably the sweat, she told herself, but her skin was prickling, and her stomach suddenly turned cold. Her breath caught in her throat, and then she heard it. The muffled sound of voices.

Without thinking, she pulled her sheets back and slipped from the bed. The house, Robert Baratheon's huge, sprawling mansion, still was a maze to her, and in the night it really did transform into a labyrinth. Every hallway looked the same, but she didn't use her eyes to navigate. Instead she used her ears, her fingers trailing along the walls as some sort of support, as if to leave a path for herself, when in reality they left no trace. She just followed the muffled voices until they weren't muffled anymore, but intelligible. She recognized them too. 'Dad.'

The door was cracked open, a slit of light cutting across the darkness of the rest of the house, drawing her in like a moth. As she crept towards the door, her feet softly molding with the carpet, her breath held back, she could hear what they were saying.

"You," her father's voice said. "You killed him!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," this was Cersei Lannister talking.

"I saw you!" Her father's voice hissed. "I know. I know what you did. I know what you are!"

There was a long silence, and then Cersei Lannister laughed. A cold, cruel laugh.

"You are incredibly stupid," she said in a low voice, one that sounded like snakes. "But then again, you are an animal, aren't you?"

"I won't let you get away with this," her father growled. "He was my best friend! Twice the man-"

"Twice the man Jaime is?" Cersei Lannister's voice was deadly. "Is that what you were trying to say?"

There was silence.

"Let me tell you something, Ned Stark," she said in low tones, "your friend died a coward. He was so drunk that when I ripped his stomach, do you know what came out?"

Arya gasped, and clamped a hand over her mouth, her heart hammering in her ribs. She hadn't been afraid, until that moment, but there was something horribly, horribly wrong. She had been assured, until now, that if it came to a fight, her father had nothing to worry about, but there was something... Something about the way Cersei was talking, and what she was saying that set Arya's hair on edge. Because there was something about Cersei in this moment that horrified her to the bone. Something not human.

Her father made a move for Cersei's throat, but Cersei's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, her fingers tightening around it, clamping it so hard that Ned screamed in pain, and Arya could hear the sound of bones crunching.

That was when Arya knew that Cersei Lannister was not human.

"I wonder what we'll find when we rip open you?" Cersei asked, leaning over Ned as she twisted his wrist the other way, grating the bones. He sunk to his knees, his teeth bared in pain. His wolf teeth.

"Mother?"

Arya nearly fell over in relief. She never thought, once in her life that she would ever, ever be happy to see Joffrey Baratheon, but by god she could have kissed him. 'Thank you. Thank you for doing something right in your miserable existence.'

"Dad!"

Arya's heart sank. Sansa.

"Dad what's going on? What did you do to him? Oh my god Dad!" she shrieked, and through the crack in the doorway, Arya could see her sister collapse next to Ned as he shook in pain, the bones in his wrist resetting themselves. "You promised not to hurt him!"

"And you were stupid enough to believe it," Joffrey said cruelly. "You're so stupid."

"I'll ask you," Ned winced as the final shards of bone cracked back into place, "not to speak to my daughter like that."

"I'll speak to her as I like," Joffrey said in that stupid voice of his, and Arya curled her hands into fists. When she opened them again, they were claws.

Ned let out a snort of laughter, and then exploded. One minute he was on the ground and the next he was fully transformed, a raging beast of fury, crashing into Joffrey and sending him smashing into the wall, crashing into a mirror. The glass shattered like rain.

"NO!" Sansa screamed. "STOP! STOP!"

Arya was so shocked she could barely move. Joffrey... He had killed Joffrey. His head was all bent out of shape, his neck broken-

Sansa screamed aloud, a horrible, terrified scream as Joffrey slowly jerked his head around, the neck bone snapping back into place. When he raised his head up, Arya realized something. He had no reflection. In the broken shards of glass, there was only Ned's monstrous shape. And once more, he didn't have normal teeth either. They were fangs.

'They're vampires. Holy shit. They're vampires.'

Sansa was screaming as Joffrey grabbed Ned's neck, crushing it with an inhuman strength. Ned roared in pain as blood flowered across his fur, struggling, but Joffrey's fingers sunk into his flesh, locking him in place.

"STOP!" Sansa screamed. "STOP PLEASE-

Arya knew what Joffrey was about to do before he did it. She didn't even have time to breathe before he was snapping Ned's neck back and then, with the precision of a practiced killer, he drove his head down, sank his teeth into Ned's throat and ripped it out.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Sansa screamed, scrambling backwards on her hands as blood spurted like rain.

"NOOOOOO!"

A horrible, furious rage and grief ripped Arya apart as she burst into the room, fully transformed. Everything was bathed in red as she attacked Joffrey, her teeth sinking into his arm as he shrieked. His blood tasted foul, disgusting, and she spit it out in his face digging her claws into his stone cold flesh as he whimpered pathetically. She roared in his face and he screamed again, her fathers blood on his teeth.

She shot her head down, ready to bite, but suddenly she was flying backwards, her side exploding in pain, and then she was hitting something, glass, because it shattered around her, and then she was flying. She smashed into the ground, rolled down a hill and then landed in a ditch, her body straining in pain. When she looked at her hands, they were human and there were shards of glass in them.

"RUN! RUN!"

Arya looked up to see a man running at her, waving his hands wildly. And then she saw why.

Cersei Lannister stood in the broken window, her fists clenched and her eyes murderous. Ready to claim her next victim.

She didn't have to be told twice. Arya leapt to her feet and started sprinting. Running for her life. She would have phased, but she had too many injuries and her body couldn't manage it. She would have to wait to heal, but with shards of glass still imbedded in her hands, her body couldn't complete the process. Every time the skin would try to grow back, it would just get cut again. The pain was excruciating.

It would be much, much worse, however, if Cersei Lannister ripped her hands off.

Arya sprinted as fast as she could, through the garden and then barreling through a hedge, the man following closely behind her. She gritted her teeth and tried to run faster. She could smell Cersei, and her strange perfume that smelled like apples, and she wasn't far behind. She was running as fast as she could, but it wasn't fast enough.

Arya's foot caught on a root and she went sprawling, screaming in pain as the shards of glass bit into her skin.

"RUN!" The man shouted, reaching down and grabbing Arya's arm, yanking her to her feet. As he did so, he stuck a cross in the ground, and then he was dragging her, forcing her to ignore the pain and run. Run. Run.

"That should hold her," he shouted, "but only for a few minutes!"

"Who are you?" Arya asked as they ran through an empty park, the light from the street lamps illuminating the bright red blood coating Arya's hands.

"A friend of your father's," the man said gruffly, releasing her arm. "RUN!"

Arya threw a look over her shoulder and nearly screamed. Cersei Lannister was just passing the park, running at a speed that wasn't human-

"HEAD FOR THE WOODS!" The man roared as they ran. "GET IN THE WOODS AND STAY THERE!"

Arya could see the woods, stretching out before her, the dark mass of trees like a black hole, sucking her in. She closed her eyes and pushed, fighting to run faster, faster than she could. 'Almost there-'

She suddenly felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. There was a moment, where she gasped but there was no air, and then she opened her eyes and sighed aloud. The woods. Safe.

She whipped around to see the man clear the woods and then whip around, Cersei Lannister racing towards them-

But then, then... She stopped short and screamed. 'She can't get in,' Arya thought with wonder. 'She can't enter the woods! But how?' Arya had been in those woods more times than she could remember, and they had never kept her out. In fact... She no longer felt afraid. These were her woods, her trees, her leaves scattered across the ground. Maybe that was why Cersei couldn't enter.

"Damn you Yoren!" Cersei snarled. "You filthy bastard! She was mine!"

Yoren laughed. Coldly.

"Don't you think this a little despicable, even for you? Killing a little girl?" Yoren said, and even though his voice was laced with sarcasm, there was a deadliness underneath.

"She's not a little girl," Cersei growled. "She's an animal! And she ought to be put down!"

"Well it won't be by you, will it?" Yoren said, and this time he did chuckle. "This is wolf territory. No bloodsuckers allowed."

"I'll get you for this," Cersei said through gritted teeth. "You're dead."

"I'm feeling very threatened right now," Yoren said drily. "Very terrified."

"Don't trifle with me!" Cersei shouted. "You think this is a joke? I will rip your throat from your neck with my teeth!"

"If you can get to it, you're welcome to it," Yoren said softly, and there was no denying the challenge there. Cersei's eyes flashed in the shadows.

"You can't hide in there forever, Arya Stark!" She called out to Arya. "And when you step out of that forest, I'll find you!"

Arya blinked, and she was gone. Cersei had disappeared, and there was only the light of the street lamps and the darkness of the woods and the sound of her heart hammering in her chest. She could barely breathe her mind was racing so fast. 'Dad... Dad...'

"Stay here," Yoren said sharply, turning to Arya. "Cersei was right. The minute you step out of the woods you're as good as dead."

Arya couldn't say anything. Her mouth was opening, but no sound was coming out.

"Look out for yourself kid," Yoren said softly.

"You're leaving?" She couldn't help it, her voice broke. She didn't know who this man was, or what he was, or how he knew everything, but she couldn't have him leave. He had saved her life. She couldn't have him leave. She couldn't be alone.

"I have to," he said regretfully. "But I'll be back."

"But I... I..." tears were starting to run from her eyes.

"Stay hidden," Yoren commanded sharply, but when he saw her tears, his expression softened. "Don't give up. Whatever you do, you make them pay, you understand?"

She nodded, but she didn't understand, not right now, because there was a huge, gaping hole filling her chest, a pain that far exceeded the one in her hands, and she started to cry, tears running down her face as she tried to shut them out. They wouldn't stop. There was a bubbling, within her, and it kept climbing, from her stomach all the way up to her throat until it was unbearable and she burst out in ugly, horrible sobs.

When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, Yoren was gone and she was totally and utterly alone.

For some reason, the light of the street lamps frightened her, so she wandered blindly towards the darkness, burying herself deeper and deeper into the thick of the woods until she couldn't see from tears and then she collapsed at the foot of a tree, curling into the thick of its roots and picking the glass out of her hands, the salty hot water from her tears washing away the blood that had dried on the surface of her skin. It hurt, pulling the glass from her hands, but it was a numbing pain, and when she was done, and her skin healed, she felt its absence.

It was almost difficult to phase, maybe because her body was so exhausted, but she did it anyway. She felt safer in wolf form. Even if Cersei couldn't enter the woods, it didn't mean that she couldn't send someone to do her dirty work for her, and Arya didn't want to take any chances. She was tired and broken and numb, and being in her wolf form was easier. In her wolf form, she didn't have to feel human.

A day passed and she hardly stirred, but as the sun rose the next morning, Arya began to feel ravenous. She hadn't eaten anything in over a day, and her stomach twisted with starvation. She tried to push it out (she dared not move from her hiding place amongst the roots, least there be some stray hiker or a wandering couple in the woods), but it was no use. What was worse, there was a full moon coming about, and even when she was well fed, the moon always effected Arya the worst.

When it broke through the clouds, she felt the madness. There had never been such a horrible, excruciating battle within her. It felt like she was being ripped apart. All she could smell and think of and taste was blood. Human blood, animal blood. Cersei's blood. Her teeth gnashed wildly, without any control, as if desperate to bite into something, but she fought ardently. She could not, she would not, let herself become a monster. But the monster within her would not let go.

She even attempted to phase back into her human form, but that was pointless. Arya had never had the control her siblings had. Sansa had been a pro, mainly because she hated the wolf in her so much, but it was Jon, her half brother, that Arya had admired the most. When Sansa phased, she reeked of discomfort and misery, but when Jon phased... He was his wolf form, but he was Jon still too. Powerful, in total control. Unstoppable. He was the same Jon, just stronger.

"The problem with you is that you're too strong," Jon had told Arya. "When you phase, it's not just turning and putting on a different face, it's like... It's like you become the wolf. You aren't Arya anymore. You're something else."

It was true. Even now, as she sunk her claws into the ground to keep from running, she could sense herself turning. Her humanity slipping. She was so crazed that all she could smell was blood. Wait. No. There was blood. Fresh blood. Blood from a strong, beating heart. Blood only a few feet away.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was facing the back of a tree. She could hear him, the human, breathing. She could hear his heart beating too. It was wild. Afraid. She took a step closer, and then another.

His eyes were blue.

Then she saw the bow.

There was no time, and yet she tried. She leapt at him, trying to stop him, but midair it bit her, sinking into her side, and she heard herself scream, not a howling of a wolf but a real scream. Arya's scream.

Then there was only blackness.

She was fading in and out. Everything was foggy, weird, disoriented. Her head hurt terribly, and she was freezing and sweating at the same time, and somewhere in her messed up mind she could register that her side hurt very, very much. When the black faded out for a bit, only for a few seconds, something told her that she was no longer on the forest floor.

'Someone's carrying me,' said a voice. And so they were. There was something cool around her shoulders, coating her arms. 'A leather jacket,' the voice informed her. There were smells too, of car grease, of metal and a slight hint of aftershave. And blood. So much blood. There was a poison to the blood smell too, but she didn't have much time to think on it, because the blackness swallowed her up, making her nothing.

The pain was so intense that she thought she might be sick. Arya could barely even open her eyes, she could barely even move, but the pain in her side was so excruciating that she felt panicked. Her mind was racing, frantic, but her body paralyzed. Trapped. Struggling, she forced her eyes to flutter open, but everything was blurry, and she realized that she was shaking while feeling on fire, her body coated with sweat.

'What's happening to me?' She thought desperately. 'Am I dying?'

The room was starting to focus, and Arya raked her eyes over it, searching for a sign of familiarity and finding nothing. The wallpaper was peeling, and there were water stains on it, and the windows were closed, the curtains drawn, bathing the room in darkness. It was a mans room, she thought. There were heaps of men's closing everywhere, anyway, and the bed she lay in smelt like a man, if that made any sense at all.

'What am I doing here? What is this place?'

Then she remembered the blue eyes. The blue eyes that tried to kill her.

There was a noise. Breathing.

Arya whipped around, nearly crying out in pain, but realizing that she couldn't. She was incapable of sound. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands flying to the wound in her side where the arrow must have hit. They came away bloody.

She looked up, ready to face whoever was there, only to find that the other person in the room wasn't about to attack her. In fact, he was asleep, sitting in a chair with his head hanging down, his arms crossed over his broad chest. She realized she knew him from somewhere. The mop of black hair, the blue eyes.

He was the boy that she had nightmares about.

yes, I did steal the 'fury little problem' line from harry potter, but I like to think of it as affectionately borrowing.