Part 4:

Gendry watched as the Dothraki road off at speed. He let his eyes pass over the scene before him. Daenerys Targaryen stood a little forward of the main farewell party. Her silver hair and grey and white winter coat making her stand out and look separate, detached, like a being from some strange place that had wandered where it didn't belong. It was intentional of course, a need to show everybody that she was different. An unnatural beauty.

Jon Snow was just the opposite. He and Lyanna Mormont stood a little back and to the right, Jon had insisted that they stand side by side, much to Daenerys' disapproval. Both northerners were dressed in black fur cloaks. They looked like they belonged, the North knew them, not just the people of the North but the North itself. The land, the air, the trees, they were a part of it, they had been forged by it. Davos stood a couple of steps back and to Jon's left. Brienne of Tarth and Sandor Clegane a few steps behind them like a noble guard.

Slowly Gendry let his eyes move to Tyrion, Varys, and Jorah Mormont who were stationed equal to Jon and Lyanna but to the left. Three more uncomfortable men you couldn't find. His eyes shifted across the gap between the three men and Daenerys to where Missandei stood. She was calm and collected, her face unreadable as that of a Faceless man.

"You want to go with them, don't you?" Podrick asked. "You want to go help Lady Arya, or bring her back… Or convince her to let you take her place."

Gendry nodded. He watched as the Horse Lords disappeared into the distance with over half of their Dragonglass.

Podrick looked thoughtful for a moment. "What's stopping you? You could grab a horse right now. Ride as fast as you could -"

"Right. With no food, no money, no Valyrian steel, no Dragonglass… all to catch up with somebody who was a better fighter when she was eleven than I am now. Mi'Lady would be so busy trying to save my ass she would get herself killed."

Podrick looked at him for a long moment then shook his head. "And if you never see her again?"

Gendry sighed. "What am I even going to do if I do see her again? I'm a bastard, lowborn, it doesn't matter who my father was." Suddenly he was angry. "I'm not as lucky as Jon Snow, my father never came to claim me even though we lived in the same city most of my life. I never even met him."

Podrick turned and looked at him, really looked at him. "My gods," He muttered "You have noble blood?"

"It doesn't matter." Gendry replied.

Podrick was shaking his head. "It does, is you Father still alive? You could be named, you could ask Queen Daenerys…"

"No." Gendry replied firmly. "I have no claim to stake. It doesn't matter who's bastard I am. You can't tell anyone, you'll get me killed."

"Does Jon know?"

Gendry nodded. He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes. Podrick was a good man but this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. "Can we change the subject?"

Podrick nodded, he looked around as if trying to find something else to talk about. After a long silence he looked up at the dragons circling above. "What would you do if you had a dragon right now?" He asked.

Gendry gave Podrick a half smile. "That's easy, I'd get as many good fighters as I could fit on it with as much Dragonglass as they could carry and fly north until I found her." He looked and Podrick. "You?"

Podrick shrugged. "I've never been to Qohor."

Gendry looked at Podrick in surprise. "Of all the places you could have chosen why Qohor?"

Podrick shrugged. "It seems so different from everything I know, I mean sure, I've heard the stories about the City of Sorcerers, but it's the gateway to the East, and from what I've heard about the artisans…" Podrick shrugged.

Gendry shook his head. "You don't want to go to Qohor."

Podrick gave Gendry a sceptical look. "And how would you know?"

Gendry looked at the ground. "Tobho Mott's from Qohor." He said softly. "From how he told it… you don't want to go there."

Podrick frowned. "Tobho Mott? Who is he?"

Gendry felt his lips twist into something between a sneer and a grimace. "He is one of only three Black Smiths in all of Westeros known to be able to rework Valyrian Steel. I was his apprentice… until he got tired of me and sold me to the Watch just after King Robert died."

"Wait, so you're a noble's bastard, you had one of the most promising apprenticeships in all of Westeros, and you were sent to the one place that a King shouldn't be able to touch you after Robert Baratheon died? Did it ever occur to you that your master was trying to protect you? Maybe he knows who your father is?"

Gendry sighed. "You call that changing the subject?"

Podrick gave Gendry an apologetic look. "Sorry. So…. Can you rework Valyrian steel?" he asked cautiously.

"Maybe." Gendry replied. "I think I understand the concept of how it's supposed to be done… but Valyrian isn't exactly readily available to practice on." He looked up at the dragons. "Having one of them help would make it interesting."

~~/~~

Sansa stood at the top of the wall and watched as the people, animals, and wagons poured into Winterfell. In just under two weeks Arya had sent her more food than the Northern Lords had sent in three months, yes, there were more mouths to feed, but the odds were starting to look better. Every cart was stacked with hay for the cattle, sheep and goats. Every person that came through the gate was prepared to earn their keep. Every village elder she spoke to had stories of Arya's growing army and strong leadership.

Who would have thought that a childhood of befriending maids, cooks, and butcher boys would have served Arya so well?

Sansa looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Lord Yohn Royce of the Vale approaching. "Lord Royce." She greeted as he came closer.

The old general nodded at her greeting. "Lady Stark, you grandfather used to like to stand here too when he was Lord of Winterfell. He used to say it was the most public way to be private."

Sansa nodded. "It's not a place you are likely to get overheard." She gestured to the continuous line of traffic pouring south towards the gates. "It's quite a sight, isn't it, we'll be as packed as King's Landing soon."

Lord Royce allowed himself to take the sight in for a minute. "Never thought I would see it at Winterfell, that's for sure." He paused, seeming to struggle to find the words he wanted. "It sounds like your sister is building an army on cow herds and blacksmiths."

Sansa smiled. "Don't forget the cooks and butcher boys. They say she's over a thousand strong now?"

Lord Royce nodded. "They say it. But how many of them do you think can count that high?"

"And she's only taking volunteers?" Sansa questioned.

"That's what they say."

"She has a way of inspiring devotion amongst the lowborn, she always has." Sansa said thoughtfully. "Every cook, every cow herd, every butcher boy or blacksmith that has chosen to follow her, they will be willing to die for her. They may not have training but they will fight hard. She's always been that way. She doesn't even realise what she's doing, but she will make every one of them love her."

"How?" Lord Royce asked.

"I don't know." Sansa replied. "But she's devoted to Jon, if she does survive, she might just bring him back the most loyal army any Lord has ever seen."

"And if Jon doesn't survive?" Lord Royce asked.

She liked Lord Royce, he was a sharp thinker, and he would be Lord of the Vale until Robin Arryn came of age. If Robin Arryn came of age. "Would you back her for the Iron throne and me for Queen of the North?"

She let him study her as he considered his answer. "Why not you for the Iron throne?"

"Why did Stannis hold Dragonstone instead of pushing for Kings Landing himself?"

"Because the people loved Robert." She saw the thoughts ticking over in his head. "Tactically it was smarter to support his brother's claim. But marrying didn't make him any less a Baratheon. If you or Lady Arya marry you would no longer be Starks."

"Arya has never wanted to marry a Lord. I think she would be very happy to marry below her station." Sansa replied with confidence. She felt a smirk pull at her lips. "I bet there's already at least one bastard out there somewhere who thinks he's in love with her."

"And you?" Lord Royce pressed.

Sansa paused. Were they really having this conversation? "You know I love Jon dearly, yes?"

"Of course, Lady Stark. But if something happens there won't be time to discuss tactics, we will have to move quickly."

"I don't expect to marry again. The first one was a sham, and the second one… well. I understand the need for heirs but any bastard can be legitimised if required."

"And if you had to marry?" Lord Royce pushed.

"What do you think of Podrick Payne?"

"He seems kind, loyal, and completely lacking in ambition." Lord Royce replied with approval.

Sansa nodded. "I do hope you have somebody you trust keeping a good watch on our young Robin Arryn, I worry for him. He doesn't seem quite right in the head and his obsession with the moon door scares me."

~~/~~