I want to thank you for the reviews! It feels good to know that people are reading and that they actually like what they read. I'm sorry this is not a gendry/arya chapter, but a filler that needed to be here. Next chapter though... stay tuned peepz!

Arya

Chapter 4.

When Arya visited the kennel to pet the dogs, she caught a glimpse of her sister's auburn hair sneaking behind the armory. Curious, Arya hurried after, quick as a snake. Sansa stopped and glanced over her shoulder, before she continued past the guard's hall. She's headed for the first keep, Arya realized, quickening her pase. As Sansa entered and disappeared behind the old wooden door, Arya climbed onto the roof of the guard's hall and glanced through the window. Inside the first keep, sitting in the window facing north she saw Jory, who jumped to his feet by the sight of Sansa. As they leaned closer and kissed, Arya decided she had seen enough and jumped to the ground. So Sansa was still stupid enough to sneak around with Jory? Well, that ought to put a stopper to the wedding. If Catelyn found out, the castle would be unbearable to live in. She looked for Bran or Robb or anyone she could confide in, but remembered that Robb were out with Theon and Bran had his lessons with Maester Luwin. She sighed, wondering what to do whit this new knowledge. Perhaps she ought to keep it a secret for now, and confront Sansa with it later. Yes, that did seem like the right thing to do.

The great hall smelled of newly roasted bacon and eggs, making her stomach twist in hunger. She sat down next to Rickon, who already had his mouth full and grinned widely at her, causing food to fall out from between his teeth.

"You're repulsing!" Arya told him. When their parents entered, Rickon swallowed and ate nicely for the rest of the meal.

"Talla Tarly will arrive in a few days," her mother read from a note one of the servants handed her. Arya felt her insides twist. The sooner her parents got Robb's wedding out of the way, the sooner they would start planning hers.

"Won't it be nice to finally have grandchildren?" she asked her husband, who nodded curtly. Something else was obviously on his mind.

"What's the matter, Ned? You look like you're bearing the world's burden on your shoulders," Catelyn stated while squeezing her husband's arm.

"I believe I am," he said, shaking his head. But although everyone gave him strange looks, he refused to say more. "Where's Sansa?" he asked instead. Arya bit her lip and stared down at her plate, praying that neither of her parents would ask her directly. Although she was a pretty good liar, she hated being dishonest toward her parents.

"I bet she's out with Jory again," Rickon said, chuckling. Catelyn's face grew serious and she shot her son a stern look.

"This is not a laughing matter," she told him. "If your sister doesn't manage to pull herself together anytime soon, I'm afraid we'll have to cancel the marriage. "

Arya silently wished they would. Not only for her sake, but for Sansa and Jory's as well. They deserved to be happy together; even if he was not as high-born as they were. Why did class have to matter? In the end, they were all going to die anyway.

"Have anyone seen Bran today?" Ned asked instead.

"He's in the library with Maester Luwin," Arya replied, relieved they had moved away from the subject of marriage.

Catelyn nodded in approval. "He'll become a maester himself if he continues studying like this. I always knew he'd do well."

"Bran wanted to become a knight," Arya pointed out.

"Well, life is unfair, Arya, I thought you of all people knew that," her mother snapped, folding her hands in her lap. "For Bran's sake, stop reminding him of his childhood dream. It will only make matters worse."

Arya snorted. "Make matters worse? He can't use his legs, how much worse could it get? Do you really think he'll ever forget his ambition of becoming a knight? He doesn't need to be reminded, because he thinks about it every time he tries to move his legs, but cannot feel anything. And you keep reminding him by treating him like a child!" she wasn't sure were all the anger came from. Perhaps it was the secret about Sansa, or the fact that Bran would never be able to walk again that shook her, but Arya felt suddenly very tired and angry with the world.

"Watch your tone, young lady," her mother warned. Arya got up in such a hurry, the table scattered.

"I'm not a lady," she yelled and marched out of the room, her blood boiling.

Ned

Ned watched as his daughter left the room, his heart aching for her. She wanted to become a lady just as much as he wanted to be hand of the king. Only he had the option to turn the offer down. Arya wanted to become a knight, which were possible in these modern days, but was not thought very highly off.

"That girl has no manners," his wife muttered from beside him. "We ought to find her a husband as soon as possible. I wanted to do so years ago, but you-"

He cut her off in a calm voice, "We'll do so when she's ready."

"Ready!" Catelyn huffed. "Ned Stark you are the only Lord alive who refuses to give away his daughter's hand. I'm sure that when Arya gets used to being a wife, she will be a good one, but that will not happen as long as you let her run around in Bran's clothes and play with blades! You treat her as if she was your son. But she's not!"

Ned sighed and took a few more bites of his bacon. "The time's not right, love," he said patiently.

"When will I get married?" Rickon asked. Catelyn gave him a smile and told him that as soon as he was a man grown, they would find him a wife and a castle to rule.

"I bet Arya wants to marry the new blacksmith," Rickon said, frowning.

"How so?" Ned asked in amusement. Now this was a new theory.

"I saw them playing in the wolfswood. And she talks about him all the time."

Ned pursed her lips and ruffled his son's hair. "Perhaps they are friends, son. No more need to come from it."

"Jory and Sansa used to be friends," the boy said, his face serious. Ned could feel his wife's eyes on him, and needed not turn to know how worried she looked.

"Leave us please," she told her son, who reluctantly threw the last piece of egg into his mouth and exited. When alone, his wife turned toward him, holding his hand.

"Oh, love, what if Arya too falls in love with a low-born man?"

Ned shook his head and pulled his hand away from her touch. "I don't appreciate you calling my men 'low-born', my lady," he said through clenched teeth. Arya would never fall in love with the blacksmith, would she? Sure he was a handsome bloke, and reminded him so much of Robert as a young man it was hair-rising, but still, his sudden arrival had been rather suspicious, even Mikken did not know the real reason to why the boy was here.

"This is what happens when you give your daughters so much freedom. If we had only forced them into marriage when they first flowered-"

"We could risk being hated forever. I ask you Catelyn, what would have been best? Seeing your daughters in a rich, but not good marriage, where they couldn't stand the sight of us, or seeing them happy with someone they love?"

Catelyn frowned and shook her head. "It is a matter of tradition, not preferences."

"Then perhaps it is about time we change the traditions around here," he told her in a firm voice and got up to his feet. "All my men serve me well, and I see no reason why they should be looked down at. Now if you'll excuse me my lady, I have to talk to my eldest daughter."

He found Sansa in her chamber, lying in the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was shaking.

"Sansa, my sweetheart?" he called. The girl didn't move. As he approached her, he closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed next to her. he noticed a letter curled up in her fist.

"Are you alright?" he asked, stroking her auburn hair. Cat's hair. Sansa shook her head so violently, her hair fell down over her face, concealing her puffy eyes.

"Is this about Jory?"

No response. I'll take that as a yes, Ned thought, sighing. He tried to reach out for the letter, but Sansa jerked her hand closer to her chest and gave him a warning stare.

"That's mine!" she said fiercely, reminding him of Catelyn. Ned nodded and retrieved his hand.

"I wish you would tell me what's on your mind, child."

Sansa scoffed. "Why should I? It's not like you care about my wishes anyway." Her voice was weak but bitter.

"That is nonsense. I always thought it was your ambition to become a lady of a castle. You seemed so happy when we first made the betrothal with Edrick Dayne."

Sansa wiped her nose with a handkerchief and turned to him, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I was. Then," she said, biting her lip.

"But then you fell in love with Jory," Ned finished. Sansa let out a moan and fell back into fetal position, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. "I don't know what it is you want me to do, Sansa."

The girl considered his words for a moment, before she looked at him, her hand clasping around the wolf necklace. "Arya can marry Edrick. They are the same age, it would be more appropriate."

Ned sighed. The Dayne's did not want Arya, no matter how beautiful she was. They had wanted Sansa's sleek figure and auburn hair, her mature manners and her breathtaking smile.

"Would you like to put an end to the betrothal?" Ned asked, dreading her answer. Sansa put her face in her hands, sobbing. But then, when she pulled her hands away, she had a determined expression on her face. She sat up, her back straight like her mother had taught her and replied in a monotone voice: "Jory is simply a low-born guard. Edrick Dayne is to be my lord husband, and that is final." Her eyes were locked on a woven picture of her old wolf, Lady that hung on the wall. Ned felt his heart break for the girl. Her reluctance was so obvious, but still she intended to go through with the marriage to protect the Stark's honor, just like her mother had wanted her to.

Gendry

Whenever Gendry worked in the forge, the days flew quicker than a snake could crawl. Mikken had been so impressed by the wolf necklace, he had told him to make a few other trinkets.

"My hands are too large to get the details right," he had said and hammered down on a piece of steel. Gendry didn't mind. He loved working with small things; he loved how difficult it was, and the feeling he got after finally getting everything right. He especially loved to see the customer's face whenever they saw the result. Like Arya's, whose face had lit up in amazement. The thought of the little lady made him smile. She truly wasn't like anyone he had ever met, and that was what he liked so much about her.

"What are you grinning about?" the smith asked him in his hoarse voice. Gendry looked up and felt his cheek redden slightly.

"Nothing."

"It's that Stark girl, isn't it?" Mikken smirked and gave him a wink. "I saw the two of you come through the hunting gate earlier today."

Gendry shrugged and return his attention to his work. At the moment he was working on a necklace made of steel so the price would not be so high. It would be a spiral with a little shiny rock in the middle. A green rock, reminding him of the tunic Arya had worn the first time they met. Green was obviously her color. He let his thoughts wander as he bent the steel, shaping it just like he had imagined. Mikken would occasionally come over to look at his work, but said nothing. If he was impressed, he did not show it.

When the working day was finished, Mikken told him to bring the jewelries he had made and ask Myra of her opinion.

"No one knows what a woman wants more than a woman," he said, chuckling slightly. The dinner was already set on the table when they came up the stairs.

Myra smiled widely at them. She never seemed anything but happy whenever they were finished in the forge.

"Show her your work, lad," Mikken told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder so violently, Gendry lost his balance. Feeling slightly nervous he scattered the trinkets on the table. Myra studied them closely and a wide smile erupted on her face.

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "Oh, Mikken, he's talented! Look at these details."

Mikken grunted in reply, but Gendry saw the small smile on his lips, almost concealed by the man's white beard.

"These truly are beautiful," she said, hovering over the spiral necklace with the green rock. Arya's necklace, he caught himself thinking, and felt his cheek flush. "You will someday be a very rich man, Gendry Waters." her blue eyes beamed at him, and Gendry felt his heart swell with pride.

"Yeah yeah, he's good, let's eat," Mikken murmured in his beard seating himself by the table. Myra chuckled and brought a pan of stew off the oven. It smelled heavenly, and tasted even better.

Myra still eyed the necklaces with great interest. "Mikken, these necklaces could help increase the income of the forge. We ought to show them to people."

Gendry picked up one of the necklaces – a rose of steel- and handed it to Myra, whose eyes widened in surprise and delight. "What better way to show them off than put them on a beautiful woman?" he said, smiling.

"You flatter me," she giggled but put the necklace on. "Oh my, it is beautiful, don't you think, Mikken?"

Mikken eyed Gendry suspiciously and murmured something into his beard about 'drawing the price of the material out of Gendry's salary', but Gendry didn't mind; seeing Myra's happy eyes was worth it. He couldn't thank them enough for taking him in, although he was a complete stranger.