Part 6:

Arya couldn't decide what was worse, the screams of the living or the silence of the dead. The forest smelt like Harrenhal, it reeked of shit and death. Funny how nobody ever talks about the fact that people shit themselves when they die. Most people were wielding touches as weapons, some had burning branches. But the flames hurt the living as much as the dead. Blood dripped down Arya's hand from where Needle had cut her as it had shattered. The blood leaving the Dragonglass hilt of her dagger red.

She ducked one strike, dodged another, and landed her blade in another white. Where it fell two more appeared from behind it. She could feel herself slowing down. She was getting tired. There was no time to think about what anybody else was doing. She moved deeper into the enemy's ranks. Trying to get to the ones that controlled them. Suddenly she came face to face with a black armoured walker. This was more than simply an undead wright. There was flesh on his bones, if it could be called flesh, there was understanding and intelligence in his eyes. An ice blade in his hand. He opened his mouth and a sound like screaming wind came out, yet somehow she was sure she heard the word "Stark."

Her mind answered instantly. Before she could comprehend what she was doing she had answered the screaming howl with a wolf's howl. She dodged three strikes but her own blow also missed, she dodged twice more before her blade hit home. She watched her blood slowly dripping along the Valyrian steel as the white walker shattered like glass. Hundreds of whites dropped to the ground as it fell.

She howled again, her eyes sweeping the ranks for her next target. Her howl was answered by a chorus of direwolves. She looked up, expecting to see Nymeria, but it was Ghost who lead the wolves coming to her aid. The army of the dead dropped back but Arya had found her second wind. She knew how to fight them now. Her eyes focused on another of the black armoured walkers. She was about to charge when a sudden wind seemed to come out of nowhere and the sound of enormous wings filled the air.

"Dragon!" Somebody yelled. "Dragon, take cover!"

People were starting to panic. Arya opened her mouth, trying to speak, but all that passed her lips was another wolf howl. She tried again, forcing her mind to make words that humans could understand as Ghost brought an army of direwolves closer.

"Get on the direwolves!" she finally managed to yell. "Get on the direwolves!"

As Ghost came closer she grabbed onto his back, hoisting herself up and hoping against hope that others would do the same. Rodrik was the first to listen, he reached out to a sooty black wolf that was larger than most, the wolf allowed him on its back. He reached a long arm out and grabbed a young boy, pulling him on the wolf as well.

Dirty blonde hair caught Arya's attention, she reached out, barely grabbing Erenella's arm in time. The girl scrambled onto Ghost and held on tightly to Arya's waist. As the dragon got closer more and more people decided to risk it with the direwolves. Arya clung tightly to Ghost and buried her face in his fur. She didn't know where he was taking her and she didn't care. He felt like home. It never even crossed her mind that he might not be able to outrun a dragon. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sound of horses. The turbulence in the air seemed to change but Arya kept her face firmly pressed against Ghost. She didn't look up once, not even when she heard the sound of horses screaming.

~~/~~

Sandor Clegane watched Tyrion pretend not to watch Sansa Stark. His eyes moved across the Great Hall to where Lady Brienne and Podrick were seated. Brienne met his gaze and a moment of understanding seemed to pass between them. She didn't like it either. Gendry didn't know all of the history but between Sandor and Podrick he had gotten most of it. Of course Clegane thought the worst of Tyrion and Podrick thought the best of him so they were very conflicting stories.

Gendry was still trying to work out how he had even ended up in the Great Hall. The first time Clegane had just placed a hand in the middle of his back and said "Come on." The doors had shut before Gendry had realised that he and Podrick were the only lowborns in the room that were not servants, well excluding Ser Davos. Clegane had come for Gendry every supper time since. One of the other blacksmiths had asked once what made him so special. Clegane had simply looked the man in the eye and stated that Gendry was Arya's blacksmith. The question was never asked again.

Gendry had made a decision after their conversation on the road about Lady Arya. He was not going to refer to Sandor Clegane as the Hound anymore, not even in his thoughts. Ever since he had started using Sandor's name the man had started treating him better. The more experienced man had even started training him, sometimes with Lady Brienne and Podrick's help. It was good, but it was also starting to get a lot of attention.

Gendry felt an elbow in the rib and realised that he had been lost in thought. He looked at Clegane in surprise.

"Our queen is trying to talk to you."

Gendry turned his gaze to the high table, a knot of fear in his gut. He stood slowly. "Forgive me, your grace, I…?"

"Gendry Waters, isn't it?" Queen Daenerys asked.

"Yes, your grace."

"And you are Arya Stark's blacksmith?"

Gendry nodded slowly. "Yes your grace." His eyes moved to Jon and then back to Daenerys.

"But you went north of the Wall with Jon."

Gendry swallowed hard. This was not good. "Yes your grace."

"Explain that to me."

"I... I helped Lady Arya hide her identity for two years after she escaped Kings Landing." He replied slowly. "I thought she didn't need me after the crossroads. She was so close to getting back to her brother, King Rob, and her mother." He glanced at Sandor Clegane. "And she had better fighters to help her by then."

"So you're not her blacksmith because of your skills as a blacksmith?"

Before Gendry could reply Podrick stood up. "He is a very good blacksmith, you grace, he was trained by Tobho Mott."

"And who is Tobho Mott?" Daenerys questioned.

The knot in Gendry's stomach grew tighter. Before he could find the words to answer Lady Brienne stood up. "Tabho Mott is one of the best blacksmiths in all of Westeros, possibly the best blacksmith in all of Westeros. He is one of only three known to be able to re-forge Valyrian steel. My blade was re-forged by him and my armour carries his maker's mark."

Daenerys seemed satisfied with that answer. "Good." She said. "I need some armour." She returned her attention to Gendry. "Will you make it for me?"

Gendry bowed deeply. "If I may be so bold, you grace, standard armour is heavy and would be dangerous on dragon-back. You would be better with stylised chain than plate. Or a combination of both. I could draw up some ideas for you, based on what I've heard of what your ancestors used to wear. But you would be better of letting a chain specialist make the bulk of it. I could oversee the making."

"You should have time to be able to make me a blade as well then." Daenerys replied. Clearly she had no understanding of how much work that would take.

Gendry just nodded. "Yes your grace." He spent the rest of the meal wishing he was invisible. An hour later he was sitting on his cot in the barracks with a piece of charcoal and a scrap of leather when Ser Davos came looking for him.

Ser Davos took one look around at the shared accommodation and shook his head. "Well this won't do, this won't do at all. You can't design armour for a queen here. Grab your things."

"Huh...What?" Gendry looked up at him in confusion.

"C'mon lad, grab your things. We're getting you a room."

~~/~~