AN I'm sorry this has taken so long, it wasn't my intention. A few things for housekeeping. I'm aiming to have Chapter 10 done soon enough and it should be on its way quicker than this one. For the thing about Karstark, I'm changing it up with his sons - so only his middle son died at the Battle of the Whispering Wood.


Time seemed to pass with ease. Moments began to feel like seconds rather than hours, the sun seemed to set at the right time and not rise to early or too late. Nothing seemed to linger or waste away, it just seemed to pass with ease over the city - almost forgetful of the war wrecking havoc and wasting away towns only a few days rides away.

The day the squire came was unlike any other for Gendry and Arya, both of whom were sat at their table when he knocked at the door. Arya had finally got her own handmaiden, some girl by the name of Jeyne sent by Lord Tywin himself and a loyal banner man of the Lannisters, and so she was dressed quite early on that day. She had somehow managed to get the girl to agree to allowing her to wear a tunic and breaches that were surprisingly in Stark colours. She assumed they were from her own things but they were still fitting her so she was not shocked when Gendry smiled at the sight of her and murmured in her ear that he'd managed to get them for her. She asked how and he had told her that her sister had ordered them through Shae.

Gendry, like most days, was reading through his book on the history of house Baratheon. Dressed once again in blacks and darkened yellows, they older boy was longing for the Maester to give him something new to read, or for Lord Varys to tell him where the forge is - because he didn't favour asking any of the other Lords and Ladies in the court, having no clue who any of them were.

Both of them had looked up when he entered the room, both wide eyes when the blonde haired young squire walked through the doorway - cocking his head slightly to the side as he observed the duo. "Lord Tywin requests your presence." He spoke finally, folding his hands behind his back to press out his chest in pride. Arya frowned slightly and rolled her eyes towards Gendry. Both of them stood and walked towards the doorway when the squire placed his arm out towards Gendry's chest - stopping him in his tracks and causing the boy to look at the squire with confusion. "Not you. Just Lady Arya."

"Where ever she goes, I go." Gendry stated and brushed past the squire, walking into step behind Arya as the squire jogged slightly to catch up to where the Baratheon bastard and the Stark girl were stood. "I will wait outside wherever it is whilst she is there, but I will not leave her to walk here alone, with you." Gendry growled out to the squire, looking him over as he managed to get the boy's ear for a moment.

The Baratheon boy noticed the look of confusion at the reasoning of his actions, but in that moment he could not be bothered. He would wait for the squire to ask a question before he told him why. Gendry allowed his gaze to wander towards Arya when he began to wait, noticing her sword at her hip and smiling to himself. He hoped that one day he would be allowed to work on the sword, he though - noticing and appreciating the beautiful craftsmanship at her hip. "Why?" The squire finally asked, Arya seeming oblivious to the fact that the conversation was taking place.

Gendry waited until they had reached the doorway before he spoke up again, not quite feeling ready to answer the squire's question. The guard there demanded that he stayed outside of the room and not enter. He shrugged and Arya looked at him with confusion and what seemed to be able to be mistaken for worry, if he didn't know her as he did he would have mistaken it for worry. "I'll be fine, Arry."

When Arya had entered the room the squire turned back to the Baratheon with a confused gaze. "Why are you her bodyguard?" He reiterated his question, his eyes too young to notice the strength of the glares that were cast at the bullheaded boy before him.

"Someone has already tried to kill her." Gendry said, noticing how Arya was lingering in the doorway before them. Not quite shutting the door yet and seeming to be listening to what Gendry was saying to the squire. "No doubt they will try again."

In that moment Arya walked into the room and the door shut behind her, shutting her in the room with the men that sat before her. Her eyes were met with the sight of a long table full with different Lannister loyalists - Baelish sitting to the right of Tywin, Varys beside him and Tyrion a whole seat space between himself and Varys. Opposite Varys was Ser Kevan - Arya remembered him from Harrenhal - and beside him were a few more Lannister knights.

"Sit down, Arya." Tywin spoke as she entered, a chair sitting empty and waiting at the far end of the table - waiting for her to sit down before the men. She stood there for a few moments, staring at the seat as if there was something wrong with it before hesitantly looking at the men before her and sitting down promptly afterwards.

When none of them spoke, she stared at each one of them in turn - noticing the glares and concentrating, scrutinising gazes of each man. She was the one to impatiently break this silence. "Why am I here?" Her voice would have cracked under the pressure of the eyes if she was anyone else, but she was a Stark of Winterfell - one of the lone wolves in the capital.

"To answer our questions, girl." One of the knighted men beside Ser Kevan snarled out to the young girl - as if it was an obvious thing that was taking place, as if everyone knew, as if she should have already known.

A new cup-bearer brought her a goblet filled with water and she pushed it away from her slightly. "Why were you at Harrenhal, Lady Stark?" Baelish phrased his words with an elegance that cut through the silence that was thickening in the air around them.

"Because I was going home." Arya stated, her voice almost as monotone as when she used to speak with Tywin, before he recognised her. The Lannister Lord raised his eyebrow at this and took a drink from his wine. Wine not water. Arya was the only one with water, she noticed. She soon realised that the lingering silence was because they wanted to know more, she didn't know why - she'd already told them the tale many times before. "Because the Night's Watchman taking me home was killed by Lannister men after Gendry and we were taken to Harrenhal afterwards."

She stared straight forewords into the eyes of Tywin Lannister. She knew he already knew all of this, she knew he knew that she resented him for it all. She didn't want to know why she had to repeat it all but she just wanted it to be all over with. "Where's your sword, Arya?" Tywin asked, allowing the men to his left to seem shocked and the two prying men to his right to smile knowingly. He did not pay attention to Tyrion's reaction but he assumed his 'son's' reaction to be somewhat of a mix between the two. In fact Tyrion's reaction was one of amusement, for he already knew about the sword from Jon.

"Here." She motioned to her hip before resting her hand on the hilt of the blade, protecting it as if they would take it off her if she moved her hand. It mattered to her, but to most who sat there, it meant nothing - she had the blade, yes, but they had stronger, thicker, heavier swords that could take her out in one strong blow. If needed. But they doubted it would be needed, she was just a young girl after all.

"Who trained you?" The knight in the middle of Ser Kevan and Ser Amory Lorch spoke up, glaring over the table at the girl as if she was a bigger threat than the goblet of water that sat before her.

"Syrio Forel." Arya spoke his name with pride. "First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos."

"Braavosi." The knight furthest away from Lord Tywin snarled under his breath and Arya rolled her eyes in annoyance at the man's hate. She thought of how the room seemed to be built on snide comments and hateful words or glances.

"And who gave you the sword?" Tywin was the one to ask the question, actually seeming interested in the fact that she had a sword, rather than the ability she may or may not have had with it.

"My brother." She answered matter-of-factly, stating it with the same tone that they had spoken with to her when she entered.

"Do Starks have a habit of giving their younger siblings swords?" The knight in the centre of the three knights asked Arya, smirking and laughing slightly at the fact that she had being given a sword - something none of them expected.

"No, they give them needles." Arya shrugged off his question with a pushing tone, brushing it away and remembering what she had told Jon when she had being given the blade. How she'd told him that it would be her needle. Back when they were all together, back when they were at home in Winterfell. Before they all left home and all of this had happened. It was something she'd never lingered on, something she'd never thought of for a very long while.

"Why did the 'King in the North'," Amory Lorch laughed slightly before continuing, the knight beside him joining in. "give you this sword?"

"He didn't" The young girl spoke with a strong tone to her voice, stopping any words that the man may have had to say about her brother and leaving them with a confused gaze between them.

"Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard had it made for her." Tyrion suddenly spoke up, understanding and knowing from when Jon Snow had told him himself.

"How many men does your brother have?" This distraction was getting a little irritating to the Lannister knight and Ser Kevan Lannister was getting fed up of the useless information he was receiving from the young girl - not blaming her because he realised she would hardly know anything of these things at her age or in the circumstances they were in.

She paused, silent and biting her lips before muttering out her words. "I do not know." She sighed and glanced down at the water before her. She would not drink it, she was not thirsty - but it allowed her to stare back at the empty look she was casting down at the liquid with the same tone.

"How many houses are sworn to House Stark?"

"Around the entire north…" She spoke hesitantly, knowing that it would not help them. She was not sure whether that was a good thing, since she had seen the Lannister Lord do worse to people higher than her. But then, she was saving her brother with every lie she told. "I do not know."

"What do you know?" The knight that Arya did not know snarled out with another glare. He was not impressed with the very small amount of information coming from the young girl, and yet no one else seemed to care as much as he did.

"I know how to sew." Arya said, staring down at her hip where the hilt of her sword rested comfortably against the bone and stroked her hand over the polished metal with the dint of her palm. "With special kinds of needles." The eyes of those who knew widened slightly at what seemed to be a veiled threat to them.

Baelish, however, chuckled slightly to himself before his voice and body turned serious once more. "Your mother travelled the country to meet with Renly Baratheon…"

Arya snarled and cut off the Master of Coin. "I never saw her." She narrowed her eyes at him and could just about see Tyrion smirk into his goblet as he took a drink. Her sharpness was not missed by those in the room, nor was her anger at the subject.

"Your friend, Lady Arya?" Lord Varys spoke up for the first time since Lady Arya had entered. She turned directly to him, looking the Master of Whispers in the eyes as he spoke - something that did not go unnoticed by those around. "He's loyal to you, is he not?"

"I think so." She glanced down at the table as she commented what she said. Remembering the words that Sansa had told her when they were sat alone in her room, long before Gendry had arrived and long after they had talked about returning home - where she told her simply, to not trust anyone. "What are you wanting to know, Lord Varys?" It was a fact that she was planning to keep to, knowing that her father's honesty and trust was something that got him killed - she had being told that enough by the people in the room.

Varys smiled to himself slightly. "Your blacksmith-"

The Master of Whispers was cut of rudely by someone who no longer cared for the direction the conversation was leaning in. "You support your brother, do you not?" The knight Arya did not know once again spoke - and the Stark girl was beginning to wish that he wouldn't ever.

"Family. Duty. Honor." She spoke, her voice allowing her thoughts to confirm itself in her mind - using the words of her mother's family to answer a question she did not want to. Because there was something in her answer that would have her killed if she answered truthfully. "Winter is coming."

"Here me roar." Tyrion said sarcastically as he felt another silence grown over the room. "Why are we stating house words now, Lady Arya?" The imp's question did not go unnoticed by the young girl, who looked at him straight in the eye as she replied.

"Family." She paused, emphasising the word as if it was a sudden fact to the men before her the order in which the Tully words were spoken. Making sure that they understood that she was smart enough to never say the truth. "Duty. Honor." Tyrion smiled to himself at this, noticing that although he was looking towards the Stark girl the knights of his father and his father seemed irritated by the fact she was speaking in riddles.

"Your brother knows you are here, Lady Arya." Lord Baelish spoke in the tone he always seemed to adopt. His tone seeming so clean-cut as he spoke over the others in the room and the silences that lingered there. "What do you expect him to do?"

"He will be the Young Wolf and continue." She remembered the rumours she had being told by the people north of where they sat. The stories of her brother and Greywind. The stories that she had wished to have heard first hand from her mother and brother. "Because he and my mother believed me to be here all along."

"Young wolf" Lorch scoffed to himself, laughing out his reply with a cynical tone. "What else do you call your brother?"

"What does that matter?" Arya's eyes narrowed towards the Lannister knight, her emotions in less check then what they were back at Harrenhall.

"Why did your brother give you the sword, Lady Arya?" Tyrion, noticing the hate rolling off of the young girl, quickly tried to distract her with another question that seemed tedious to the others in the room.

"Because I am no lady."

"So you know how your brothers fight?" Lord Baelish's question seemed to go ignored by almost all of the people in the room, but still the young girl being questioned responded clearly.

"Robb always leaves his left side open, it was how Jon was always able to defeat him when they practised." Arya felt herself reminisce on the facts she could remember in that moment. Noticing that she had revealed something so obvious to her but not to the men before her - she pushed the thought aside and corrected her words. "But he has a council of my father's banner men. He will not be as stupid to do it in battle."

"He is arrogant and green enough." Tywin snarled out, ensuring that the young girl across the table heard the words he was speaking. Hoping that his obvious dislike for the boy would keep her in line, for she knew full well what happened to those he disliked.

"I wouldn't know." The girl before the men spoke emotionlessly, her words echoing over the room with meaning enough to annoy most of the men in the room - those men who expected her to know more than she did.

"What do you know?" Irritated by the small amount of information the girl had given them, the Lannister knight in both name and sworn allegiance asked her his question.

"I know how to make a paste you can eat out of acorns." At this, the eyes of some of the men widened - specifically those to the right of Lord Tywin who all had noticed before the hollow of her cheeks when she first arrived to King's Landing. Her mentioning of the fact she had made this paste caused Tyrion and Baelish to glance towards Tywin in shock - surprised that she had managed to get to this state to begin with.

"Why would you need that?" Another voice stopped the shocked thoughts of the men in the room in their tracks. A rather annoying voice to Arya, and one she knew she already hated having to get used to again - Joffery's. Arya did not turn to face him, nor did she acknowledge that he was there.

"Your grace." Lord Tywin spoke up as many of the others in the room acknowledged the King and the guard following him in the room.

"Why is the wolf bitch being questioned?" Joffery's voice irritated at Arya's ears, her teeth grinding as she prepared to splutter out a response to the boy king - her eyes narrowing at the shadow flowing over her head and onto the table before her.

"Because she may know something, your grace" The knight closest to her, Ser Lorch spoke up. Narrowing his own eyes at her in a gesture that may have looked irritated or angered to the boy king but actually seemed warning to the young girl.

Joffery laughed for a few seconds, no one else finding what was being said someway humorous. "Tell me, wolf bitch, does your brother fuck his wolf as well as his wife?" His question was followed by the three small council members to Lord Tywin's right turning sharply with worried gazes to look at the girl. Lord Tywin looked plain faced at the boy, his irritation not as obvious as that of the young girl's - who's shoulders shook slightly and who's hands turned white in tight fists.

"I wouldn't know, I have not met my good sister." She turned to face the King in her chair, her voice seemed sketchy to the room - seeming odd and fearful. "Do you fuck your sister as well or are we playing off rumours today?" She smirked and stood, dusting off her breeches and turning her attention to the man at the end of the table. He looked at her with the same raised eyebrow he always had. "May I leave, Lord Hand?"

"Go on." Tywin's voice showed that he honestly no longer cared around the young girl, she had answered all the questions he had needed her to and he was fine with that - after all, it didn't matter to him any more information. Sure, what she had said should have angered himself as well - but it did not. It was only a childish joke that could be reprimanded by him later - when they were not surrounded by knights and lords who would disagree with his actions.

"No." Joffery spoke suddenly, stopping the young girl who would have being leaving in her tracks. "She needs to be punished." He demanded, the men of the room saying nothing as the girl stood before them. "She cannot say these things to me."

At this, the man to his left smiled. His grin widening as the young girl froze up as he walked towards her. He took the girl's face into his left hand had thrown a punishing slap towards her with his right.

She recoiled with the force, causing her to grab the table before her and pull herself upright. She then pushed herself forewords in retaliation, pulling out her sword and pushing the sword towards the mans face. She surveyed his every move, glancing over his face until she recognised who he was.

Seeing this, she smiled. "You practised that slap on my sister, Ser Meryn?" She asked, laughing slightly as his gloved hand slowly pushed aside the girl's sword. He once again grabbed her face with his left hand.

At this, Tywin spoke up. "Arya." His voice seeming sharp and irritated - as if he was talking to a small child with desperate annoyance, as if he had forgot that the girl was in fact a child. "Leave."

"Lord Tywin." The voice of the 'knight' before them cut through the air, his irritation equally as present as in the girl - who glared openly at those before her, her hand grasping the sword as if she was prepared to cut the throat of the man. Her eyes fixed on the open areas of skin not covered by armour and her fingers clenching and unclenching on the hilt of the sword.

Tyrion Lannister knew that some of the men in the room knew that Ser Meryn was a man of no honour. But the fact the young king was laughing irritated him more. Arya Stark was a young girl who had just being slapped by a man sworn to protect, he knew that to send her away would not help a thing in their cause. "Father, you can't seriously be-"

He was cut off sharply by the knight and lord he called Uncle. "Tyrion, take Lady Stark back to wherever they left her friend." Ser Kevan Lannister was not impressed by the display of power by the boy king, he was less impressed by his brother's show of power with the young girl. But he did not want to cause issue where the girl was concerned with his youngest nephew - so he knew sending him away would benefit them all easily.

"Come along, Lady Arya." Tyrion spoke. "I'm sure you would want to hear a little about your brother Jon as we walk to find your friend."


The heat beat against the walls and the bull-headed boy as he sat on one of the many benches around the courtyard, glad to actually be alone - but at the same time worrying. He didn't want to know what they were asking Arya - but yet that was all he wanted to know.

A shadow passed over his face and stood before him, smirking. The boy looked up at the man and smiled at the sight of who it was. "Hello again boy."

"Hello Ser Bronn." Gendry was actually glad to see the ex-sell sword, because the man did not speak like the others - nor was he as untrustworthy as those he could smell from a mile away with their floral breaths.

"I'm never going to get fed up of hearing that!" Bronn laughed aloud and filled the small area before the wall, a smile glinting over his lips as he thought of the fact he was now a 'ser'.

Gendry raised his eyebrow at him, looking up at the knight with a keen interest of wanting to know what he was talking about."Ser?"

"Doesn't matter, m'boy." Bronn sat down beside Gendry on the bench and leaned forward on his knees to mirror how the younger man was sittting. "Your lady wolf in there with 'em then?"

"Yeah." The boy sighed. "Lord Tywin wanned to speak wi her." Gendry felt his voice and clarity of words drop as he spoke with the plain spoken knight - it was something that he was almost glad to hear happening.

Bronn had also noticed this, and laughed quietly to himself. Gendry quickly joined in. "Sounds like you're really getting used to this life" He smirked towards the boy, leaning back on the bench so that his head rested against the wall and his hands pillowing his head for him.

"Not really, ser." Gendry frowned at the floor.

"Stop calling me ser now boy, 've got me kicks out o' it now." Bronn laughed slightly, watching the looks of confusion that swam over the boy's face with slow ease.

"Okay... Bronn." He hesitated, the sellsword noted.

"Well done, lad." He jibed, leaning back a slight bit more so that his head rested against his hands more, the bite of stone growling at his worn knuckles."So your lady is a wolf - and there's lions and flowers around 'ere as well. What are you?" He glanced around the hall to make the point he was saying.

"'m a nobody." The younger stared down at his feet, slamming his feet a few times on the stone to cough up some dust. "But I did like to think I was a bull." He smiled at the dust he made, imagining how it could have looked under the hooves of some horse at tourney or on the road to some war. Now he was never going to be in some tourney or some war, because no tourneys would take place and too many wars were. "Made ma self a bulls 'elmet as well."

"Yer a blacksmith, right?" Gendry nodded, but opened his mouth to correct the man, turning his head to face the man. "Armorer or whatever those gits on the Street of Silver like to call em sleves"

"Hey I apprenticed on that street!" Gendry protested, narrowing his eyes slightly at the sellsword with annoyance at the idea of someone disrespecting the life he had led for most of his life.

"Then you know gittishness first hand." Bronn laughed, and suddenly Gendry's features softened and a smile burst onto his lips. Those walking past the duo stopped with shock and turned to face the duo. Confusion at the odd sight passed over their faces.

Gendry stopped himself from laughing abruptly and calmed his voice - hushing his tone. "No more fancy than this lot ere."

"True you are there boy." Bronn clapped him on the shoulder. "What shop were you apprenticing in?"

"Toboh Mott's." Gendry said the name with pride.

"Ah the most expensive one as well." Bronn leaned forwards and laughed once more.

"Cause he's three times more skilled than anyone else there." Gendry snapped out, his fury building once more. It was how he had lived, the same as how Arya would never allow anyone to disrespect her choice to sword fight, he would never allow anyone to disrespect his apprenticeship. "He's the only one on that street that knows how to work Valyerian Steel."

"And a sales man." Bronn chuckled to his self before his features dropped, becoming serious and the sight was almost odd on the sellsword's face. "If only you weren't born wi stag blood - maybe you coulda been a bull on ye own." He smirked to himself afterwards.

"Wouldn't have meant a thing though." Gendry murmured to himself and fumbled with his hands for a moment.

"Nah. It wouldn't have." Bronn agreed, leaning back once again.

In that moment, a floral sight adorned the hall as the Knight of the Flowers passed by, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of the two rather scruffy looking men smirking on the bench. He appraised them for a few moments, Gendry thinking it was some sort of highborn snobbery and glanced down at his hands. When the knight passed, he turned back to Bronn. "Why are you a Ser? You're nothing like these men around 'ere."

Bronn's eyes followed the Tyrell knight as he left the area, a scrutinising gaze on his eyes. "Got knighted after the Battle - 'fore that I was just a sell sword to his right royal Tyrion of 'Ouse Lannister." He turned back to the boy, noticing how Gendry's eyes were suddenly searching the door area once again.

"So he's in there then?" He nodded towards the door, his eyes fixed on the dark wood with a gaze that told the sellsword-turned-ser that the boy was worried about whatever was happening. That he hadn't known what was going on and he found it difficult.

"Ye with your Lady Wolf and enough knights and small council to go into battle." Bronn stated.

Gendry's eyes widened. "Gods. Shouldn't I go in there to 'elp her?" He turned back to look the man in the eyes, standing up as he spoke and reaching towards the door before Bronn managed to speak up.

"Probably wouldn't do 'er any good, lad." He grabbed the boy by the arm and stopped his movements. At that he slumped into his bench and back beside the man, understanding exactly what Bronn had said.

"What am I meant to do then?" Gendry spoke, sounding abruptly defeated and deflated at the issues.

"Sit 'ere and wait." Bronn recommended, passing the boy a flask of bitter wine and opening it for him. The boy flinched as he good a drink, but continued anyway - hoping it would cool his nerves. "There's noting else we can really do."

Long moments seemed to pass when the door suddenly burst open and the young girl fled from the room, the shortest Lannister following her out with much more poise and calmness about him.

"Later then lad." Bronn called out as Gendry obediently followed her, not noticing his own lord standing beside him until the small in height lord coughed and the taller man turned to face him. "What's that about?"

"My Nephew." Tyrion stated and Bronn rolled his eyes. Both kept their eyes fixed on the girl and boy as they left the area however. "My Nephew is an idiot who doesn't realise what is being said."


Arya stormed ahead of Gendry, the Lords and Ladies in the hallways that they trailed through.

"What happened, Arya?" He practically yelled at her, not realising how loud he had spoken until he saw some of the lords and ladies around turn to face them. He shied away slightly and bowed his head.

"It doesn't matter, Gendry." She snarled out at him, continuing on her course away from where their rooms were and towards where the 'Godswood' was. Not caring that she no longer saw them as her gods but only hoping that they could help her in some way.

His eyes caught sight of the patch of red and blue on her face, his eyes widening as he saw it - he pulled her to a stop in the darkened hallway to one end, away from the scrutinising and over aged ideas of propriety. "'M sure it does Arya." He softly placed his hand on her arm to stop her her from wandering off once more.

"They just don't understand, Gendry." She snapped at the air, growling out as if someone was there and not looking towards Gendry as she spoke. "They keep asking questions that I just don't know about and then they won't stop." She stuttered out, finally turning back to look him in the face and smiling at the frowns he pulled "And that stupid liar…" Arya trailed off slightly.

"Arya." Gendry's voice softened, his hand holding her arm released it and moved slowly up to trace over the bruise forming on her face. He frowned slight at it, running his thumb over the yellowing pattern on the height of her cheek. She pursed her lips as Gendry leaned slightly towards her, frowning at the blotted

"Do you want to see the dragon skulls?" She leant back suddenly, glancing around - hoping that no one had seen them. "I think I remember where they are." She seemed to smile at the idea

"What are you are on about, Arry?" Gendry looked at her, stepping back slightly and squaring his shoulders as he glanced around.

"There's dragon skulls here - come on I'll show you." She turned and walked towards the end of the hall, Gendry turning after her with equal confusion as they walked towards the base of the hallway - towards the open arch way at the end.

"Fine then." He muttered.

Arya lead him down through winding corridors and darkened halls - through narrow staircases and thick-walled caverns. Down through dimly light dungeons, illuminated by old lanterns and flamed torches that caused the orange light to wither and change. Passing tightly wrought metal, sharp sides and pressed weeping stone. Oil dripping from failing lanterns and muted voices with muttered words and murmured thoughts flowed through halls.

Gendry leaned down towards her height in his steps, noticing it more as they slowed down - watching her glances become confused and worried. He started to laugh. "We're lost." He stated and continued to laugh as she glared at him. "Aren't we?" he motioned around himself and she nodded glumly, her grey eyes cast down. They both stopped walking and glanced around where they were stood - nothing seeming familiar to the girl nor the boy. "Something must seem familiar, Arry?" Gendry insisted to her, pushing out his arms from his sides towards the walls surrounding them.

Arya circled the hall, looking for something familiar when she stopped abruptly around three-quarters around her circle. She narrowed her eyes at the wall before her, striding towards it and placing her hand on the metal of the object.

"This shouldn't be here…" she ran her index finger over the flat edge of the object, running it up the edge until she reached a join the held the metal to another metal form of leather and metal. "This should be with Robb…"

"What is it Arya?" Gendry approached her carefully, placing his hand on her shoulder to break her from the daze she was in. His eyes searching the back of her head with worry rather than what she was looking at.

"My father's sword." She growled, pulling the blade towards her - collapsing as she misinterpreted the weight and tripped, struggling slightly as Gendry kneeled down to help her up and take the blade from her.

He lifted it up so that he was holding on end in one palm and the handle in another. He held it for a few moments, rocking it in his hands. "It needs some work," The blade glinted in his hands, the light reflecting off of the surface. "But I've never held a blade like it." He folded his hands and tucked it into his belt.

"What are you doing?" Arya growled out her question as she heard voices down the hall from where they stood. She narrowed her eyes at her friend, prepared to rip the blade from his belt.

"It shouldn't be down 'ere." He explained, looking her directly in the eyes as he spoke. "It should be with you." Gendry smiled to her, seeing the joy slowly pulling into his eyes. She smiled at his reaction.

"Lady Arya, Gendry." The two turned to the sudden addition of a voice, looking at the location of where it had come from to find Varys stood before them. "What are the two of you doing down here?"

"We were trying to find the dragon skulls…" Gendry sighed, glancing around and noticing that the Master of Whispers was with someone he recognised, but yet he could not place why. "But we got lost."

The bald man laughed slightly at the expressions of the two before him. "Lord Tywin will be looking for the two of you." He glanced down at the blade being protected by the boy's hand resting against the blade's hilt. "The stairs out are down there." Varys watched as the two bowed and said their goodbyes before hurrying away. He frowned.

They were still too young - looking for adventure when they probably should have had enough.

But for the realm, for the realm they were good.

"Those are the children I need to watch?" The man stood beside him asked, watching as the two strode away - both of them looking at the boy's hip and the blade that rested there with awe. "They're young."

"They're important." The dark-haired man nodded at what the bald man said before turning and watching the duo leaving the dungeons. "Do you not recognise them?"

The man said nothing, staring at where they were stood. Staying stood where he was, beside the bald man. "He does, I think." The dark-haired man spoke as if he was not himself, as if his voice was coming from elsewhere in the room. "I can't, right now."

"Good." The bald man smiled. "You will remember them with time."

The dark-haired man searched the bald man's face with his eye, pursing his lips as he did so. Everything confused him, everything.


The wolf remembered smelling her mistresses scent on the wind, going south from the north - and she was confused. She remembered smelling a stag and her mistress surrounded by soldiers and men she had killed before.

And the wolf hadn't liked it. She liked the smell of the Brotherhood who sometimes had left scraps out because they knew the food would go. She liked the smell of the Stark camp because her brother was there. She liked the smell of her mistresses friend, he would pat her head and not attack her with spears.

She didn't like the Lannister smell.

She hadn't liked back when they invaded her home of Winterfell. She hadn't liked it when they were on the road and she had to leave. She never liked it.

She never trusted it. She never trusted that the boy she bit that smelled more like the two blondes than the fat dark-haired man that had found her funny. She never trusted the blonde woman in how she glared at her family, and she never liked how the blonde knight had spoken to her mistress' brother, her brother's master.

She didn't trust the Lannisters. She didn't trust that they constantly smelt of each other - like how the her mistress' father and mother smelt of each other. She did not like it.

She did not like that their father had taken her mistress to the place that she had fled. She did not like that, so she came back, so she left her mate in charge of her pack. To protect the girl that didn't know how dangerous it truly was.

"Gendry. Hide it in my bed." Arya burst into the room where the wolf was sleeping, the boy that smelt of the fat man running in after her - in his hands a blade, long and broad.

A knock pattered against the doorway in the other room. The boy turned abruptly "Who is it?" He muttered to mistress, frowning at the fact someone was once again disrupting their day.

"Does it matter. If they find it here..." She protested, pushing it under the blankets and sliding it away from the edge with care. Making sure that the perfect edges and cut of the Valyerian steel did not slice open the feather blankets or reveal the position of the blade in its shape.

"I get it." He insisted to his friend, smiling reassuringly at her as she strode from side to side before the bed. The knock once again echoing through the rooms. "Nymeria, down girl." He yelled at her. The wolf stared back at him blankly, as if she didn't understand.

"Stark girl." Meryn snarled through the door, pounding on the door once more as the duo walked through into the main room. "Open this door." Gendry looked worriedly towards Arya before walking towards the doorway and pulling it open - allowing those behind it to enter.

"Your grace." Arya smiled and curtsied mockingly and clumsily - Gendry bowing his head as the three Kingsguard and the boy king entered the room.

"Where is my grandfather, girl?" Joffery growled out his question, not expecting the curtsy or politeness from either of the two. Mostly after what had happened that morning.

"I do not know." Arya said, glancing towards Gendry with wide eyes. Worry glinted through her eyes and he quickly caught sight of the bruise flowering on her cheek. He inhaled slightly at the sight, turning to face the king with a blunt gaze.

"I assume he's in a small council meeting." The blacksmith said with bitter words, the tone seeming to be unheard by the young King - Gendry walked towards Arya, putting himself between his friend and his apparent brother.

"I did not ask you 'brother' - I asked the wolf bitch." Joffery's lip raised into an ugly-looking snarl, his hate seeming plain against the subtlety of the elaborate distaste of the summer air that danced in the thoughts of those outside the room.

"You will not call her that again." Gendry's words steamed as they charged towards the young king - his eyes narrowed as he pushed himself closer to his Lady Stark and away from his 'brother'. Arya would have scoffed at him, or told him otherwise - but she hadn't that day, the bruise stung too much.

"What are you going to do to stop me? I am the King." He yelled out, his hand shaking to accent his point with a grace unbefitting of a king - Gendry noted.

"Not my King." Arya muttered, barely above her breath and a small smile glinted over her lips. She thought of her brother, north of wear they were stood - fighting - and then the smile disappeared, as she remembered when they had freedoms. Freedoms bogged down by starvation and horror - but freedoms none the less.

"What did you say, wolf bitch?" Joffrey's question threatened the air and Arya placed her hand defensively on her hip, the palm resting slightly over the hit of needle once more.

"Nothing." Arya's voice was hardly above a whisper. "Nothing of importance." She repeated the second half of her sentence a slight louder, only to find that the King had infact overheard what she had said.

"I'm debating getting your mouth sewn shut if you continue to speak out of turn, wolf bitch." Joffery stepped forward towards her, motioning carelessly towards her face as he spoke. She felt her feet unintentionally stumble back, her hand sliding towards the sword at her hip so that her palm was resting on the cool metal hilt of the blade.

"You will not touch her." Gendry growled out the words, keeping the barrier he had created between his brother and his friend

"And you cannot stop me." Joffery smirked towards the taller, stronger and older boy. He knew the older boy, his so-called 'brother' would not do anything to stop him - because he physically couldn't without 'The Bull' becoming classed as a traitor and killed for it.

"No. I'm just a bastard." Gendry stated, walking back a few steps closer to Arya as he drawled out his words slowly.

"Ser Meryn!" Joffery's eyes flamed and Gendry was not completely sure why, he just kept his eyes level and eye contact maintained.

Neither Gendry nor Arya was quite sure how Nymeria had managed to enter the room without any of them noticing the giant wolf's form. Nor were either of the quite sure how she had managed to make her way between them both and attack the knight of the kingsguard as he reached for Gendry's shoulder.

"Nymeria!" Arya screamed out, running the few step distance between the animal and where she was to close in the distance and pull at the wolf's fur. Nymeria then relented her jaw's grip on the knight's arm and nuzzled the young woman's face, the blood still staining the fur on the chin of the wolf.

"Ser Meryn. Rid us of this beast." Joffery yelled to his guard and Ser Meyrn raised his broadsword so that his shadow was covering where Arya was crouched with the direwolf.

"You will do no such thing." A cool, overly calm voice took over the room and suddenly Ser Meryn stopped his motions and lowered his sword. "Arya, Gendry - take the wolf into your rooms." He ordered and Arya stood abruptly, wanting to flee as quickly as she could.

Gendry, however, did not move. He stood still, seething through his teeth. "Gendry - come on..." Arya spoke up and Gendry suddenly broke out of the trance he had forced himself into and flexed out of the room.

"Mi'lord..." Gendry seemed to be prepared to say something to Lord Tywin. Prepared to say something that would not be said by him, the words lingering in his

"Boy. Do as I say." Tywin did not turn to face the boy, but his voice echoed so much that Gendry felt that he did not need to. "I will speak with my Grandson over the wolf issue." At this he turned at left the room, following Arya out of the door they had not come in.

As he left the room into the hallway, he heard a low growl. "Nymeria." He saw the wolf approach out of the long shadows caused by the torch-light. "C'mere girl - let's go find your mama's sword." He patted at his leg and the wolf rubbed against his leg.

"Mama? She's a direwolf - not a small child." Arya said over the shadows, waiting by the wall as Gendry walked towards her. His hands grabbed at where Ice had being on his hip, wishing that he had some sort of weapon on him in that moment - thinking about how Joffery was acting that day.

"And sometimes she acts like a small child around you - don't deny it." He smiled at her as she tried to protest the what he was saying.

"Okay." She groaned slightly and they both stood in the corridor, glancing around the limestone hall with thickening silent.

"Arya?" Gendry turned to her, Nymeria walking towards the other end of the hall, padding over the stone with no sound echoing through the hall.

"Gendry." She mimicked him.

"I've thought about it and you're right - we can't stay here." He said in a hushed tone, glancing around the hall at that they were walking through. His eyes seemed scattered and never seemed to concentrate on a point for more than a few seconds - as if he was just checking that there was nothing out-of-place in a room he'd never seen before.

She turned on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide with shock. "What?" She seemed to smile, her eyes glinting with wonder at the idea and Gendry agreed. The idea was 'wonderful' - mostly the wonder part of that word rather than the fact that it could actually be fulfilled. But it sounded good all the same.

"Arry. You are right." Gendry said, looking the girl in the eyes and nodding towards her. "Okay?" He asked her as she didn't reply to what he had said and she raised an eyebrow towards him and taking his arm and leading him up the corridor. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere else." She glanced worriedly back at the end of the hall, where the wooden door stood between the two of them and the Lannister men - who would listen and tell Lord Tywin and then they may loose the few freedoms that they were allowed. And they may loose their only windows of opportunity. "How are we going to leave then?"

"There's a boat. Somewhere out there. That heads off to the free cities." He motioned towards the edge of the bay, passed where the water was still stained green and where ships fashioned in different ways docked. "I remember seeing Bravvosi men that used to come to the smithy." He thought back to a time when everything was normal, when he could wake up and have a day where he didn't have to think about the words he said or when he would eat next.

"And we go to Braavos?" She asked, imagining what that would be like - to go to the place that she'd heard so many merchants in the bay speak of. To be free.

Gendry smiled to himself and watched as the young woman beside him leant over the windowsill to get a better view of the ships. "And we go to Braavos. Maybe then back to the Riverlands and to your brother."

"And then we do what?" She asked, standing back up so she was facing him fully and stepping away from the window so that she was in the corridor.

"Fight? I don't know Arry." He shrugged and lead her away from the window, towards where he could hear no voices coming from their solar so he opened the door and sighed with joy at the sight of the empty room before him. "We'll figure it out."

"I like that idea." She smiled to her self and glanced around the room wearily. "I like that idea a lot."


The next day seemed to arrive sooner than both of them had expected, after their parting of ways that evening, and they soon found themselves sat in the solar. The two of them surrounded by foods and Arya had managed to squirm her way into breeches and a tunic that day without the aid of her handmaiden Jeyne. They fit her properly and he assumed that they had been made for her since they had arrived. But the conversation from the night before still rolled around in her mind, so she decided to get up and lead Gendry towards a place she could remember. A place she would be sure that would be still empty.

"Arya where are we going?" He asked her, sounding hesitant as he followed behind her loyally - through the twisting corridors and stairways that seemed to go on forever.

"Somewhere quite enough for us to talk." Arya said, not turning back as she tried to retrace the steps she had taken years before - years when she was younger and more innocent, when her dreams were of knighthood and riding rather than freedom and her family to be together once again… and ghosts. Ghosts of her father and how Bran used to be, even ghosts of King Robert's laughter or Jory and her father's men.

She found her destination easily enough and sighed at the sight. Ghosts filling the air of her instructor and her lessons. The blood still stained ground and the air still seemed as thick as it had the day of her last lesson.

"We need to discuss what we talked about." Gendry had followed close behind her and she spoke as soon as they entered the room, knowing that the room gave her some comfort in her existence in it - that it was safe there.

He looked at her carefully before nodding in agreement with her words. "Yes."

She thought of all the ways she could managed to incline into the subject, carefully and subtly. But none came to mind. "How will we get on the boat in the first place?" She asked Gendry bluntly, wandering around the room until she found two plants with thick, long stems growing into the room.

Gendry followed her movements and grabbed one of the two stems and pulled - slamming his foot down on one side of the stick so that it was at sword length. He then did the same for Arya. He passed her the stick and then looked her in the eye. "Your friend could help us?" He stood quickly and raised his stick-sword, standing to the side like she had insisted to him so many times.

"I'm not sure he'd help us escape." She said as she hit her stick-sword against his with speed causing him to step back before he swung back at hers. He grinned slightly and she joined in.

But then her words seemed to sink in and he paused, letting the sword drop to the "Right. 'Cause he just kills for you?" He was close to giving up then, irritation lacing through his voice.

"Fight me." She hit the stick against his chest and when he didn't follow what she had said until he did as she instructed. "Yes he does just kill for me"

"Right that's helpful." Gendry rolled his eyes, sure it was helpful - but for the most part it was not the most helpful thing the man could do for them. She pushed on his chest lightly when he let his guard down and stepped back in the direction of her push. "Where are we going now?" He asked, annoyance strained in his voice.

"Towards the wall." She said, hitting her 'sword' once more against his with a little more effort, sighing

"Arya." Gendry dropped his stick to the ground, this time letting it fall flat to the ground, paying no attention to it as it rolled away. "This is not helping, we need to figure out a plan."

"Do you now?" The clank of metal against metal was a sound that the two shuddered at, the voice that accompanied it was one that Arya dreaded more than the boy had. The voice of one of the men from the long table with Lord Tywin. One of his knights, the annoying one who scoffed at her and who had answered Joffery's question without a flinch. "A plan for what exactly?"

"Nothing at all ser." Gendry knew his voice seemed hesitant, but he could not control it as many of the Lords and Ladies of the court seemed to be able to.

"I'm not sure I heard that lie right, boy." The knight scoffed and entered the room further with long, clunky strides. "Would you like to repeat yourself to Lord Tywin?" At the man's words the young girl darted from under the arms of the man and the boy she called her friend, the man's hand reaching out to grab her tunic and missing marginally whilst he firmly grabbed the shoulder of the boy.

"Arya!" Gendry screamed out towards her, trying to shake off the man's heavy grasped hand as he attempted to reach out to Arya. Her tunic clad shoulders leaving the room at a speed that the boy could not comprehend in his panic addled mind.

Lorch, however, was not having any of this and spun the boy abruptly so that he was facing him - leaning threateningly over the boy as he growled out his question. "Where is she going boy?"

"I do not know." Gendry answered, focusing alone on the ground at his feet. He then looked the knight in the eye, thinking about what he would have liked to have said next.

"Come along boy." The knight kept his hand clamped painfully to the boy's shoulder and pushed the boy along the corridor before him, Gendry reluctantly following along suit with worry and panic covering his face. "We need to speak with Lord Tywin." The words echoed in the air around him as he knew that this would not end well.


"Jaqen." Arya yelled at the man dressed in a red and gold uniform of the Lannister guards. He was stood alone, turning to face the girl as he heard her shout. Red and white hair was reflected over the basin of water he stood before and her face was only a shadow on the slight ripples there.

"A girl becomes a lady." The Lothari criminal glanced over her appearance, her skin clear of dirt and her hair cleaned and brushed out - she was not the stick thin girl he had first met on the road, but still she was a girl.

"A girl was never a lady." She snarled out, hissing her words with hurry and determination that made it difficult for him to not see the hate and worry that poured from her - emotions that he had always been able to spot and see.

"A girl is now a lady." The faceless man corrected with an ease that out the girl at unease. "A girl has something for a man?"

Arya nodded. "A name: Ser Amrory Loch."

"It is done." Jaqen said and turned back to what he was doing, dipping his hand once more into the water to continue with the cleaning of his weaponry and the jobs he had to complete before the day was through.

"Now. He's going to tell Tywin." She yelled out and pushed at the man's legs, her voice seeming to break with desperation.

"A man is going." He said and nodded at the young girl, glancing over her worried features. "A man will speak with a girl again." He turned away and stepped in longing strides away from the Stark girl.


North from where King's Landing trapped two Starks, two more stood in a muddied canvas tent. Surrounding a wooden table were a handful of Lords and Ladies: Bolton, Umber, Mormont, Karstark, Manderly, Mallister, Flint, Frey and Blackwood.

Outside the canvas rattled and seemed to rock in the winds, the rain darkened shadows over the dull grey sky and the patterns seemed to create shadows of white shapes on clouds of black and dark grey. The rain falling from those clouds hit against each leaf before splatting against the stretched material of the tent's canvas. Flying from the roof of the tent was the Stark sigil and inside the iron and bronze crown sat upon dark red hair.

"What have we heard of my sisters?" The King asked, glancing up from his war map to look suddenly between the Lords and Ladies in the tent, their conversations about typical war related issues stopping.

"Nothing, your grace." Smalljon Umber's voice bellowed from the tall man, his voice sounding as large as the man himself. "Only that Lady Arya and the boy have being taken to the capital."

"My daughters need to come home." Catelyn stated, a fact that was getting more and more prevalent every time the Lady Stark mentioned it - which had become more frequent since the news of Arya's escape and recapture had reached the encampment.

"And how do you propose we do that, Mother?" King Robb leant over the table, his hands flat of the paper of the map and the coolness of the wood underneath. He wished that their markers were not so central and closer to the bay of Dorne - so he could easily fulfil what his mother was asking and go home.

It took a few moments for Catelyn to think of her answer, Lords and Ladies turned to face her with questioning or disapproving glances - but few of the disapproving glances "We make an agreement with the Lannisters."

"No." Robb spoke in a voice that was harsh and final, seeming to not be able to be budged on the thought and purpose behind them. He glanced heavily back down at the map, his eyes going straight to where the encampment was found on the map.

"They want this war less than we do." Catelyn spoke as if she had thought over this issue of a time, as if she was understanding it. "They're fighting the battle on more than two fronts."

"And who do you propose we send to speak with them who they will not kill, mother?" He asked, annoyance lacing his voice. This would cause a problem in his Lords if this happened, but then it almost needed to happen. "No, mother."

"Robb I've not seen my girls in years. They've both flowered and grown without their mother and without their father." Her voice hitched, the older lords and ladies looked towards her in understanding - for they had experienced these "They need me Robb."

"Mother." Robb's voice spoke with an authority that fitted who he had become with ease and understanding of his kingly station. His auburn mess that his hair had become in the young king's attempts to run his hands through his hair in irritation and frustration.

"Your grace," Dacey Mormont, heir to Bear Island and the only woman in Robb's thirty, spoke up from Robb's left, her fingers brushing over the edge of the map as if she was thinking carefully of the words she was about to say - but her eyes looked at her King confidently. "I will accompany your mother if it means that we can bring an end to this war."

"Lady Mormont." Robb spoke to the woman with respect for the strong fighter - and for what she was offering for him and his mother. "We have nothing to give them."

"We do, your grace." The lady glanced out of the tent's opening, towards where a wooden and metal pen had been created for the blonde haired man sat inside of it - watching the tent as the brown haired woman's eyes cast over and he caught her eye, smirking.

"No." Karstark roared, his voice filling and hollowing out the tent. "He killed my son." "He will not get away with this!"

"You have heard the rumours of what happened to Princess Sansa, have you not Karstark?" Before the Starks managed to respond, Dacey Mormont spoke up, her eyes glaring at the older man. "Rumours of what is to happen to Princess Arya?" These rumours had spread like wildfire through the camp, quick and with so much ease that they were shocking to say the least - running from that she would be forced to marry the bastard to much more shocking and horrifying ideas stemming from the idea that Tywin Lannister would 'punish' her for her escape. "They are of the north, they cannot stay there any longer."

"What will it take for you to agree with this, Karstark?" Karstark scoffed at his King's question, finding little reason in answering it, or being able to answer it. He was finding it hard - for it was so overtly against his morals and the morals of many men in the room. This was going against what they were fighting for.

"Sansa could marry your youngest son Eddard?" Catelyn's question was left in the air and caused whispers and mutters to fill the empty space, it would not advance the Starks house in anyway - if anything it would undermine them more, with their King married to the Westerlings and the youngest Stark girl apparently defiled on the road north with the Night's Watch. But Catelyn saw the strength in it, and as did many of the younger lords - most of Robb's thirty - the lords that thought they should be loyal to the crown and the north, the lords that saw the best in what the union would bring.

At Lady Stark's words, the Karstark patriarch spluttered and his eyes widened. "You would give my son your daughter's hand to allow the Kingslayer freedom." He repeated the idea, it still sounding as preposterous to him as it did when he heard it from Catelyn - but the idea seemed to appeal "You do me a great honour Lady Stark."

"Mother?" Robb's voice seemed unsure of what his mother was proposing to the Lord, but Karstark's reaction told Robb something important - that this would buy the man's loyalty.

"She will not marry any southern lord." Catelyn spoke, almost as if she was talking to her son alone - as if no one else was in the tent. "Tywin Lannister has already taken my youngest daughter's choices from me, if these rumours are in anyway true." She pointed at the letters that piled at the edge of the table - holding down one corner of the map. "Theon Greyjoy has taken my youngest sons from me." Robb looked down at the map and glared at the spot that marked Winterfell, his gaze cast downwards at the map for a few long moments as he seemed to become more and more irritated by the prospect.

But then something clicked in his mind, something that he suddenly could understand as the eyes were all watching his face and reactions. "We offer them the Kingslayer and peace and we take the North" He said the words as if he was testing the idea but he found himself agreeing with the idea. "Those are our terms, mother." Some of the Lords, the more war worn smiled with agreement whilst a few - notably the Boltons - glared on at the two Stark.

"Then it is decided." She muttered, smiling to herself more than to her son at the thoughts of happiness that passed through her, she was going to get her daughters back. And she was going to see them again.

"Take Lady Mormont and some of her men with you, mother." Robb spoke with authority, a tone that made it sound like an order for Dacey Mormont and yet a promise to his mother. An order that Dacey would happily follow - for as a member of Robb's thirty she protected him more than just on the battlefield. So Mormont nodded in agreement and offered Lady Stark her Morningstar and left to prepare for the travels south with Brienne.

"To the King of the North." Around her the men coughed up into a raucous chants of words. "To peace." She stood and smiled, speaking the last one quietly to herself. Yes, Catelyn Stark would be heading south for peace. Stark, because she was a Stark. Stark, because she was King-Mother to the King of the North, the Young Wolf.

"Don't loose this war suddenly whilst I'm gone." She said, her son not hearing her words over the sound of yells and joy from the men. Something lingering in the words that she had said almost to herself, something that told her that something was not right - that there was more joy than she had expected in them announcing this idea.

But then, she thought, maybe it was for the best. They were all tired. They had all lost much. And they would have lost more by the war's end. Maybe with the new idea, it would all work for the better - Lady Stark hoped to herself.


A/N okay I like putting in Bronn and Gendry scenes, because they give me joy. And I hate Meryn… and I can't think of any overly dick-like Kingsguard other than Ser dickwad Meryn.

Also I'm using the term 'git' because I like the term 'git'. And as a British person who calls people gits I would like to use the term - although it's probably not historically correct use of 1940s slang or actually used ever in Westeros, other than right now, with Bronn - in my version. And the thing with Gendry's speech has happened to me before when I'm on holiday - my Yorkshire accent can sometimes become so strong that it's difficult to understand, but if I spend three of four days in any country my accent 'neutralises' and it becomes easier to understand for non-yorkshire people. Except for when I was on holiday a few years ago and I met a girl from Yorkshire and my accent became the thickest it's ever been in less than two seconds. I guess there's some sort of phycological explanation for it - but that's what's happening with Gendry.

And Dacey - because I like her from the books and she's a fab Mormont badass woman and shall be giving her and a few other secondary/tertiary characters in Robb's Army a chance. I'm sorry about the fact they aren't in the show, but I need named characters to fill roles I need characters to use for the plot.