A/N: Still don't own, still unbeta'd and still struggling with a very stubborn Gendry. I'll get him in the bath yet. Look for it in the next chapter. You just watch me, bastard boy!

Chapter 12

The curtain walls of her childhood home loomed high on the horizon. The towers silhouetted by the winter sun. The closer they rode the more anxious Arya became. All the towers looked like the broken tower. The granite stone was darker, blackened. The King's Gate stood closed and she saw fires at the tops of the gatehouses, beacons for travelers. Arya could remember the lighted beacons from her childhood. They always lit them when men were a field. She used to love to follow Theon or Harwin or Robb whenever they told the guards to light the fires. She loved watching the sticks and red leaves burn. The heat was strong and would roll off the wood piles in waves, making her feel hot and safe. It was one of the reasons she'd loved sitting with Gendry and watching him smith when they were at Harrenhal. The forge heat always made her feel safe and Gendry was the embodiment of that heat. He had always made her feel safe.

When she looked over at the bull-headed Master Armourer he met her eye and grinned wide, a grin to match the smile she knew was about to split her face in half. Everyone rode a little faster as the castle grew closer. The promise of warm food, soft seats, and plenty of drink raised their spirits out of the wet, sinking snow. They reached Winter Town within an hour and some.

Arya tried her best to dip her head and not let anyone see her face. She desperately wanted to examine every brow and every smile for one that was familiar. She also desperately wanted to run her fingers over every crack and stone, every burn and mar that was done during the war so she could fix it. She wanted to build with a fury even Brandon the builder would have admired, and she didn't want to stop until Winterfell stood as great as it ever was when the Kings of Winter ruled. However, Arya wanted to save the secret of her presence at Winterfell until she was ready to let it be known. She would not be paraded before her sister's guests if she could help it. She wanted their reunion to be private, for her and her siblings only. Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne had agreed with this and promised to aid her but were unsure of their reception and said if asked directly they would admit her identity. They were expected and had let it be known how many would be accompanying them. If either queen got it in her head to inquire as to Arya's identity, Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne couldn't be dishonest. Ser Jaime had also written his brother a raven at their arrival to Moat Cailin, hinting at a secret guest. Tyrion promised him discretion. It bothered her but she couldn't fault either one of them, she admitted it would be the honorable thing to do and Tyrion's assistance in distracting Daenerys and Sansa would be welcome.

They urged their horses forward and made their way through the market square of Winter Town, the smallfolk hardly noticing them. There have been a great many guests come to Winterfell of late, she supposed, for the impending nuptials of her sister. Truthfully, they were probably one of the last parties to arrive. There were to be representatives, said Jaime on word of Lord Hand Tyrion, from every kingdom in the realm. Some kingdoms, such as the Riverlands and the Neck sent two or three. Also, every house still intact in the North, all of the houses and Bannerman of Arya's father and now under the dominion of the new Queen in the North, would be there as well.

She recalled her studies to pull up what she knew of the great northern houses. There was White Harbor, the Dreadfort, Deepwood Motte, Moat Cailin (which she knew to be held by Arthor and Beth Karstark), Karhold (which Beth had made mention of as being held by Arthor's cousin, Alys Karstark and her husband, a wildling man). Hallis Mollen was obviously rebuilding Castle Cerwyn. There was still Barrowtown, Flint's Finger, Driftwood Hall and Hornwood, none of which she had word of. Lady Brienne had told her Bear Island was still in the hands of the Mormont's, Alysane and Maege Mormont specifically. Greywater Watch was where Bran spent much of the time, as Gendry had told her, courting the crannog girl Meera. Last Hearth, Oldcastle, Ramsgate Widow's Watch and Torrhen's Square would also send envoys to Winterfell she thought. The North was vast and the losses, she grimaced, would have been great. It made her furious and she clenched her fists around the reigns of her garron.

There was a loud creak as the gates were opened and the guards called down for them to announce themselves. Lady Brienne did and the second curtain wall which was higher than the first by 20 feet, standing some 100 feet tall, loomed before them. It was said Brandon the builder built Winterfell with the help of giants. The draw bridge lowered from the second wall and crashed thunderously before them. Arya's horse was startled but she mastered it. The mote around Winterfell rushed dangerously below the drawbridge and Arya made sure her neighbors were cautious. They had the horses carry them over it one by one just in case of a misstep, there would be more room for error.

Arya felt tears prick her eyes as they were lead to the stables by stable hands she didn't recognize but she easily hid her face in her hood and steeled her look. She would not cry, she told herself. Not that it mattered. Her tears froze in tracks on her cheeks anyway.

"My Lady Brienne of Tarth, her Grace, the Queen in the North, Sansa Stark of Winterfell, accepts you and thanks you for your attendance to her wedding to Lord Sandor Clegane. Her Grace is treating with the Queen Daenerys in the great hall and they wish to receive you once you've finished with your horses."

"Thank you. Please tell her Grace we are honored and shall attend her shortly." Said Jaime as Brienne hardly noticed the young squire who ran up to them. They were removing their packs and other items from their horses and Brienne had given her attention to the work at hand. Arya had the feeling that this was common place for the two. Brienne saw to the work and Jaime saw to the speaking. Arya searched the face of the squire before he left them but she did not recognize him either and it pained her heart. There was once a time when she knew every pair of eyes she would come across within Winterfell's walls. She knew the sound of every footstep and who it belonged to and she new the name of every urchin who cleaned the stables and ridden every horse in them.

Before long they were being escorted to the Great Hall and though much had not changed it was obvious to Arya much was rebuilt, or in many cases still needed rebuilding. The main structures of years old granite were the same and still as strong as they ever were but the stone was blackened and the wooden structures were in various states of disrepair. It was evident too that the hot springs still flowed for when she ran her fingertips along the beloved stone of her childhood it was warm and damp as she remembered it to be.

She glanced sidelong at Gendry and found his eyes wide and his mouth hanging just slightly open. Gendry was in awe. He told her in hushed tones that although he had slept in Winter Town on their way to the North and again on his way back after the Battle on the Wall, he had never been in Winterfell himself. It seemed, in his eyes, very great and she was filled with pride because even though she'd lived here and could have easily taken it for granted she'd always thought it was special too.

The Great Hall was near empty and Arya's breath grew thick and ragged in her throat as they approached the throne of the Winter Kings. Four large and rather menacing looking Direwolves stalked around the edges of the room. One of which she knew instantly to be Nymeria. Arya was unsurprised but grateful all the same. The large wolf that she had recognized instantly seemed to recognize her as well and sniffed the air. It and made its way purposefully toward the group almost immediately. Sansa looked alarmed and attempted to call it off to no avail. When Arya realized that she would have to wait to greet Nymeria she mentally urged the wolf to halt and return to its former position. It worked, to her shock and gratitude, and at 20 or so paces away the wolf halted and after giving a small whine it returned to the edge of the room. The wolves no longer stalked the walls as sentries, however. Instead they stood clustered together, watching Arya and her friends from behind the throne. Sansa looked relieved and returned her attention to the party. Arya shifted her gaze from the wolves, and her beloved Nymeria, and settled her attention wholly on her older sister.

Sansa sat there, as regal and beautiful as any woman could be. Her hair was still light, lighter than their Lady mother's had ever been. It was a beautiful reddish gold and it flowed easily over her grey and white gown. Her skin was the pale pink and rosy and her eyes were the blue of sapphires, they shined out of her face like chips of ice in rose water. Her lips upturned in the smallest of smiles as she beckoned them closer.

"Welcome to Winterfell Lady Brienne. You and your party are most treasured guests. How did you find the King's Road? Not too difficult I hope."

She was still sweet and polite and so very Sansa. Arya was afraid she might cry again so she quickly averted her gaze and she felt Gendry's hand slip around her small fingers and give her a squeeze. Lady Brienne responded in kind, greeting both Queen's and expressing her joy at being there. Arya spied the Lord Hand Tyron Lannister, sitting to Queen Daenerys' right. He was smiling at Ser Jaime, although Arya did not recognize the smile. The small man had been made smaller by half a nose and he had a large gash in his lip. He has seen battle, she thought. Then again, so had they all.

Queen Daenerys, beside the battered Imp, looked stunning. Her skin was dark where Sansa's was light. Her hair a brilliant white blond, so typical of Targaryan's if she was to believe the tales. She had violet, almond shaped eyes and dusky pink lips. Strangest of all was her small stature. Sansa had always been tall, taller then Arya by at least a head and half it still appeared, and lithe. Cersei had been similar and Arya had come to expect that of queens. Daenerys though, was smaller, closer to Arya in height, with wide hips and a generous swell of bosom. Arya had pictured the Dragon Queen to be tall and slight of shoulder, with narrow hips and a grim face. She had pictured, truthfully, some one more like the dead queen. Not someone so…feminine. She wore white furs over a gown of the softest gold and she was smiling.

Finally, after the introduction of Lady Brienne and the two young Queens finished, Tyrion Lannister stood and waddled towards them. "Dear brother," Was all he said. Ser Jaime dropped to his knees and hugged the dwarf fiercely. It was a strange sight to see but it warmed her all the same.

She eyed the rest of the people in the hall wearily. She was saddle sore and nervous and did not wish to be detected here. She recognized no one else, unsurprising since there were so few there. Daenerys and Tyrion to Sansa's right, a guard to Sansa's left. There was a dark girl who looked to be in service to Daenerys sitting on the floor beside Tyrion's abandoned chair and a small, dark haired cupbearer who stood by for the Queen's refreshment. It seemed the women and Daenarys' Hand had been holding council with each other upon her party's arrival.

When the brothers broke apart they were smiling and japing. Arya thought they looked happier to be together then she had ever seen them and wondered at how they spent so much time apart. Tyrion turned his attention to the party then and his gaze lingered over Arya and Gendry, standing side-by-side and from Tyrion's vantage point she was sure he saw that they were holding hands. She went to release Gendry but his hand was stronger and bigger than hers. He hardly noticed her movement and jerking her hand away would draw too much attention. She ended up leaving it and hoping Tyrion wouldn't mention anything.

She needn't have worried. Tyrion very carefully steered the conversation to dinner that evening and to the numerous guests within the castle currently. He ascertained how many rooms they would need from Brienne and promised his Queen's to speak with Jon about getting the party settled. Both women seemed happy for it but Daenerys stopped them as they made their way out of the hall.

"The bastard, the son of the usurper, which of you is he?"

Gendry froze. Ser Jaime nudged him forward and he almost forgot to release her hand before bowing to Sansa and the Dragon Queen. "My name is Gendry, your Grace, Gendry Waters."

"You seek legitimization. Is this true?" Tyrion tried to interrupt and insist the matter could wait but Daenerys said she wanted it finished as soon as possible. She asked Sansa her feelings and Sansa agreed that she would have little time in the future to discuss the matter and wished it resolved before the wedding. It seemed to Arya that Sansa and the Dragon Queen had possibly spoken of it already.

"Then it is agreed, we shall hear the matter now. What recommends you for legitimization? Do you intend to hold Storm's End?"

Gendry was silent for a beat but mustered himself and stood tall before them. "I would if the people would have me. I'll speak plainly-I don't know nothing of running a castle. I'm a smith, a Master Armourer for Evenfall Hall these past two years. I was knighted by Beric Dondarrion during the war and fought for Jon Snow on the wall. I know my letters some but I wasn't raised to-" he paused and collected himself before rushing onward. "I wasn't raised to rule."

Daenerys nodded and Sansa too, seeming to come to a decision before he finished.

"But my father was Robert Baratheon and aside from Edric, who has taken Dragonstone, I am the last Baratheon. I would be honored to rule the seat of my family."

"I'm sure you are a good man. Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion have both confirmed that. You are honorable and just. You are not, however, fit to run a keep let alone be the Lord of such a vast and important kingdom such as the Storm Land's."

Before she could continue Arya stepped forward.

"What if he had someone willing to teach him, someone to run his castle?"

Sansa and Daenerys turned to her, startled. She had spoken in an accent similar to her own but she did not want to be immediately recognized.

"You mean a steward," said Sansa, "or castellan?"

"Perhaps I do, if a castellan would be enough for you."

"Storm's End already has a castellan," Interjected the Dragon Queen. "Why should I not make him the Lord of the Storm Lands?" She could see Gendry shaking and she knew he was thinking the same as the Targaryen queen but Arya refused to let him think himself not good enough.

"What if he had a Lady Wife, one who knew what it took to run a castle?" Daenerys smiled at Arya. She looked kindly, like her mother, and leaned forward.

"And how would you have me convince a woman to take a husband with no-"

"You would not need to convince anyone to take him."

"You believe in this bastard smith so well that you would interrupt your Queen? Engage in a private matter which does not concern you and argue his case. Who are you?" This was it. Arya steeled herself and begged the Mother and the Old Gods for mercy that Sansa would not be furious for what Arya was about to do.

Arya reached out and found Gendry's hand. She wrapped her small fingers around his and let his heat seep into her skin. This was it, no more hiding. "I am," she stopped to consider her name. She had been Beth, Cat, The Ghost and Nan. She'd been a Weasel and a boy named Arry going to take the black. She removed her hood and looked only at Sansa. "I am Arya Waters. I was once Arya Stark of Winterfell. Ser Gendry gave me his cloak in the shadow of the Heart Tree of Moat Cailin. I was a Lady once and I am his wife whether you legitimize him or no."

There were a few seconds of blessed silence in the Great Hall before Sansa shot to her feet. Gendry's hand seemed to squeeze her involuntarily and she actually felt it dampen. A great intake of breath was heard but from which corner of the room she could not tell. It seemed to come from behind her and before her all at once. Mayhaps it did.

"Arya!" Sansa's shout brought Arya back to herself and she watched in a stupor as her sister flew from the throne of their fathers and down the steps towards her and Gendry. In a matter of mere seconds Arya was wrenched from Gendry's grip as Sansa barreled into her. Her vision was obscured by red hair and grey fur and then the howling began. Howls echoed in the hall as the wolves fell about the two sisters licking and nipping at their clothes. Arya was stock still, unsure of what to do and hardly aware of the wetness leaking from her eyes. Sansa was sobbing and angrily mumbling admonishments into Arya's shoulder. She could only make out half of them but they sounded vaguely threatening and were peppered with numerous whispers of "I love you."

With a loud crash the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open. The frantic howling of the beasts had caused a ruckus and several guards rushed in through the many doors leading into the hall. Arya and Sansa both looked up from their embrace to see the many figures silhouetted in the doorways. One Arya recognized instantly as Jon. He had on training leathers and his hair was as long and wild as she ever saw it.

"Sansa?" He rushed in, obviously concerned but stopped short when Arya raised her head to him. Another figure, a boy, stopped closely behind him. The boy was small with grey eyes and a tangle of thick black hair. Rickon, it seemed, took after Jon and her as well. Arya found her voice with some difficulty and it cracked a little as she tried to keep it steady.

"Jon. Rickon?"

Sansa was still tangled in her arms and tears were tracking her pale cheeks but she looked almost dignified as she met Jon's eyes.

"She's come back."

Arya had no words left in her and silently thanked Sansa for taking the responsibility. Jon broke then and Arya had no breath left in her as his arms clutched at her tunic and his kisses fluttered across her face and hair. He encircled her and Sansa too, in his arms. His words, unlike Sansa's, were not admonishments but apologies. He'd looked for her, he said. He was so much like Gendry.

Gendry.

She whipped her head around and saw, in the gap between Jon's dark curls and her own arm wrapped around his neck, her husband. Only until that moment he had not known it. The significance of the act was lost on him. Being betrothed and being wed were two different things and their union was not consummated, hardly a union at all and yet still was.

His skin was pale and damp, she could tell from 10 paces away. He was clammy and afraid and his eyes seemed frozen in shock. He was still only just taking in what she had said. He was thinking back and piecing together. She had not meant to do it. She had wanted her reunion with her family to be private. She had wanted her union with Gendry to be a long time off. She wanted time to talk with him. She had intended to do it properly. Time, it seemed, they did not have. She had not wanted to blurt it out in front of Daenerys or Jaime or the Hand but the Queen, she saw clearly, would give her no choice. Sansa had not cared for the matter and the Storm Lands were not in the dominion of the North. If he wanted the Baratheon name and seat, it was the Dragon Queen he would have to please.

Arya turned her gaze to the woman who sat on the Iron Throne. The Targaryen, Mother of Dragons they called her. She was smiling at them, tears in her beautiful violet eyes. The Hand, beside her, looked equally happy although he was smirking instead of smiling. When Jon scooped Rickon into his arms Arya's heart broke as he introduced the boy to his own sister. Of course he wouldn't remember her. He had been only just two years when she had ridden off with their father to King's Landing. He looked frightened to see Jon and Sansa looking so upset but Sansa was laughing then and cooing at the boy and he flashed Arya a small, tight smile that spread warmth through her chest.

Arya could hear the whispers and cheers among the guards and household who had come to see the commotion as word of who she was spread amongst the crowd. Soon Daenerys was before them, smiling gently and looking much older than Arya had been led to believe she was.

"It is my honor to have been here at your return to Winterfell, Princess Arya. Your sister has spoken of you a great deal and I would be delighted in helping to prepare a celebration feast in honor of your return and your wedding." She knew, of course, that the Southron Queen was only trying to be helpful but when she chanced a glance at Gendry he looked even more panicked than he had before. Jon, who had not been there when she revealed herself, stiffened.

"Wedding? What wedding?"

Arya did not bite her lip, although she wanted to. She turned to weakly smile at Gendry. Ser Jaime clasped him on the shoulder with his good hand and nodded at her to continue. She felt better knowing Ser Jaime was with him, would talk sense to him.

"I am married." She had meant to sound less timid, less girlish.

"That's not possible." His voice was firm and incredulous. "To who?"

Arya looked behind her and Jon followed her eyes to Gendry. He narrowed his eyes at the blacksmith and Arya saw his fists ball up at his sides.

"Gendry," he growled low in his throat. They had been friends once. She had hoped their acquaintance would make this easier on Jon, who had always been very protective of her. Arya positioned herself carefully between Jon and Gendry. She widened her stance for more stability.

"My Lord," he responded firmly. Arya smirked, he did not quiver or shake for Jon and he had remembered her little lesson on etiquette. She turned her head again and saw that he was flushed, vastly preferable to his previous clamminess. His eyes sparkled in challenge and he strode purposefully up to them and stood behind Arya.

"Jon," Sansa interrupted, "Ser Gendry has asked to be legitimized, like you. Isn't that good?" She sounded like she was trying to calm a wounded animal, and maybe she was because Ghost was piteously whining in a corner of the hall. Nymeria growled and licked at the white wolf but to no avail.

"And I have no reason to deny him." Daenerys Targaryen spoke up. He nephew looked from Daenerys to Sansa and back to Arya before settling his gaze on the man behind her.

"I am a bastard of Robert Baratheon, my Lord. I intend to hold Storm's End, if they'll have me."

"Us." Gendry looked down at her amendment and blushed in a rather unmanly manner.

"Us," he finished more quietly.

Arya saw some of the tension leech out of Jon's shoulders and he turned to her very seriously.

"Is that what you wish?" She did not need to look in his face to feel the nervousness of the man behind her. How could he still believe her not to want him after she proclaimed him to be her husband? Stupid smith.

"Yes. Of course," she replied in Braavosi custom. They always said 'Of course' as though everyone should have already known. "Why would I do it if I didn't want to?" And really, he should have known that.

"Then, I guess congratulations are in order little sister." He smiled widely and wrapped her in his arms again. Arya relished in the embrace. Cheers went up around them and in short order she and Gendry were being escorted by Sansa to their own room. They had to prepare for the feast in their honor and as much as she did not want to be parted from her family Sansa insisted both of them have a bath.

Arya groaned inwardly. What was she going to tell him, how could she possibly explain? She didn't have long to think about it because Sansa had found them their room and promptly deposited them there.

He looked at her levelly once the door was closed.

She broke the silence softly. "You can bathe first, if you like"

He placed his hands on his hips. "Sure," he shrugged easily but he didn't remove his eyes from hers, "right after you tell me how I got married."

Arya groaned again.