DISCLAIMER: Is this really necessary at this point? I mean, GRRM is one of the most famous authors out there, and no one even knows me... in any case, I do NOT own A Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire or any of it! Rights to GRRM and HBO!

Good Day readers, I hope you all enjoyed the last update! I won't say much, but a couple of people have requested a short recap before each chapter, so I will start doing that. As ever, please leave me a review, any questions and I'll get back to you asap, other than that, Over and Out! xoxo

RECAP: Jon and Sansa made it to Kings Landing, and have spent a few weeks getting used to court life. Arya and Gendry arrive weeks later, and Arya gets into a bit of a scuffle with a Gold Cloak within minutes of their arrival. Arya reunites with Jon and Sansa, and Dany shocks everyone by recognizing Arya, though Arya hints that it is best left alone. Arya, though extremely unhappy with the feast being thrown in honour of her and her family, spends some bonding time with Sansa, preparing for the feast. Gendry sneaks into her room when Sansa leaves to question the interaction between Arya and Dany, which she refuses to answer. Gendry lets slip that the Ghost of High Heart Hill has been seen at Duskendale, and the news shakes Arya. Sansa catches Arya and Gendry about to kiss, and teases her sister. Meanwhile Jon confronts Dany about the earlier reaction to seeing Arya, and she admits that Arya saved her life once before in Meereen during an uprising, at which time Arya was a slave in the fighting pits. Jon is horrified and plans to seek Tyrion out for advice on trapping Euron Greyjoy, as while he had known Euron had sold Arya at some point, he had not realised the magnitude.

Ok, I think that's all... I didn't know how much detail to put in! Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and I'll see you next time! Over and Out! xox


"Will you stop fidgeting?" Sansa hissed at her sister as they rounded a corner.

Arya huffed. "I can't help it, the stupid thing keeps getting caught between my legs!" The dress that Sansa had put her caught between her legs with every stride, but when Arya had picked the skirts up Sansa had slapped her hands away.

"If you hadn't insisted on wearing those god awful boots then the dress wouldn't have to trail the floor!" Her elder sister snapped, before sighing. "Just take shorter strides, and don't walk so fast!"

Arya groaned quietly, wishing she had been able to stand her ground against her sister. Give her a battle, an angry adversary intent on killing her- no problem. But her sister? It was impossible to withstand her. And as such, Arya now found herself corsetted, dressed, with her hair in a northern braid, as she made her way to the feast she would much rather avoid. "I still don't understand why I can't wear my clothes," she grumbled, her hand slipping to her thigh to reassure her that Needle was still there, strapped to her leg.

"You know perfectly well why you can't," Sansa sniffed, walking with perfect poise and ease of practice. "The queen will be there, and all of the most important Lords and Ladies. It would be an insult to wear those rags."

They rounded a corner, and were met with a handful of men and women in the chamber before the great hall. Arya bit her lip and clenched her fists as heads turned towards her, faces unraveling in shock as they saw her. She wanted to rip the stupid dress off and run, out of the Keep, out of the city and out of the South.

Movement caught her eye and Arya snapped her head forwards, to see Gendry approaching. He was dressed in smart black leather almost from head to toe; a leather jacket with tight laces across the front and long sleeves, dark breeches and black long boots- the same ones he always wore. He seemed flustered as he took her in, and Arya scowled. Stupid Bull.


Gendry waited uncomfortably in the chamber before the great hall, wondering if Sansa was going to have to employ some guards to help drag Arya down. He snorted with amusement, ignoring the strange looks sent his way for it; he would not want to be the one to deal with an angry Arya Stark after she had been forced into a dress.

Thinking of the girl turned his mind back to when the queen had seemed surprised at seeing Arya, and Gendry wondered what it was that Arya was hiding. Whatever it was she was not going to be telling anyone anything anytime soon, and Gendry knew that no matter what he said she wouldn't divulge it until she was ready.

"Is that Arya Stark?" Gendry snapped his head up at words. "Over there?" He heard other whispers, of "I still can't believe she's alive," and "she looks older than I thought." Gendry searched the room for her, and when his eyes fell on her he had to fight to keep his jaw closed. She stood with her sister at the door, but while Sansa wore a polite smile upon her face, the smaller of the two sisters was scowling.

"Ah, Lord Baratheon," Gendry almost jumped when the owner of the voice approached him. A lord, he assumed, but who he didn't know. "I had hoped we might speak, you see I-"

"Excuse me," Gendry mumbled, stepping past the man and towards Arya. She didn't seem to notice him at first, but when her eyes fell on his he saw her obvious discomfort. Why he didn't know, for she was unarguably, the most stunning person he had ever seen.

The dress that he was sure Sansa had wrestled her into was long, and dark grey, an older style than the other ladies gowns. It bared her sultry shoulders and collarbones, the sleeves starting near the top of her arm and running down to her wrist. The bodice was tight, with a lighter grey and white thread design that went from her breasts to the very top few inches of the tight sleeves, and down to her waist, shaped like an arrow head. The skirts flared out from the top of her hips, stopping at the floor and trailing behind her at the back. Her hair was loose but the side sections were pulled away in a series of northern braids. She wore no jewellery or make up, and her pale skin seemed almost white against the fabric, her eyes brighter somehow. Gendry swallowed.

She claimed that she was no beauty, but how she could he didn't know; he had thought her beautiful in the dress she had worn on the first day of their journey south from Winterfell, and even in breeches and leather Gendry believed her to be breathtaking, in a strong, fierce and Northern way, the way he imagined the warrior queens of old had once looked. But stood before him now, Gendry could barely form a thought. However, when his eyes met hers, and he saw her scowl had deepened, he knew that she would not appreciate him saying so.

Sansa cleared her throat. "Lord Baratheon," she offered, smiling softly. "She's beautiful, is she not?"

Gendry swallowed, and looked the younger sister in the eyes. "Aye," he said, his voice slightly rough. "She is." He watched as Arya's face remained guarded, though her eyes seemed to widen just ever so slightly... before her scowl deepened.

"Much better than a towel, wouldn't you say?" Sansa asked innocently, ignoring the murderous expression her sister shot her. Gendry blushed and her white teeth flashed at his discomfort. "If you'll excuse me, I must go and find Jon to tell him we are all ready. The queen will wish to start the feast, I'm sure." She touched Arya's arm briefly before leaving, walking gracefully up the stairs. Arya glared after her, and Gendry cleared his throat.

"It's true," he said, putting his hands behind his back, looking down at her. She turned her face back to his, her eyes narrowed.

"What is?" She grumbled, tweaking her skirt in discomfort.

He smiled slightly, allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch a little. "That you look beautiful." Her jaw clenched at the comment and Gendry felt the corner of his mouth pull up a little further.

Arya narrowed her eyes at him. "You're laughing at me,"she growled. "It's your fault anyway."

Gendry blinked. "What is?" He almost laughed at the indignant expression on her face. "What, that Sansa made you wear a dress? And how is that?" He asked.

Arya stepped forwards and prodded his chest. "Because if it weren't for you coming to my room then she wouldn't have been able to blackmail me into this stupid thing!" She yanked at the dress in distaste.

"Well, I apologise fully, milady," he smiled. "For what it's worth, you do look beautiful. Remind me to thank Sansa later," he added, and Arya exhaled sharply before hiking the skirts right up and stomping off, showing off her long, brown, leather boots. Gendry laughed when he saw them and Arya shot him a filthy look as she disappeared around the corner, skirt swishing behind her.


Arya ground her teeth together as she stormed around the corner. Stupid Sansa for putting her in the stupid dress, stupid Gendry for laughing at her, stupid everyone! Arya wished she could just leave before the damned feast even began, but she knew that it would be viewed as an insult to the queen. Arya sighed as she walked, her eyes shuttering for the briefest moment. What on earth was she supposed to do? Daenerys obviously recognised her, and the others weren't stupid enough to have missed it. Gendry had already been asking questions, and she was sure Sansa was thinking about it. For all Arya knew, Daenerys could have already told Jon.

If she had... Arya didn't want to think about it. She remembered that day, the victory she had won, the crowds cheering. She remembered the way the crowds cheers had turned to terrified screams as the Sons of the Harpy attacked. She remembered the trampled bodies and the smell of human shit and the way the insurgents seemed to appear from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

Before the match Arya had almost hoped that the queen had someone from Westeros that might recognise her, she had heard Jorah Mormont of Bear Island was her adviser. But he had never met her, and it would have done her no favours to be recognised. Slavery was one thing, but a pit fighter... no one could know, not Gendry, not Sansa.

Not Jon.

Never Jon. She had heard what he had done to Ramsay Bolton, how it had driven him mad trying to save her. He had lost his life for it when he first planned to rescue her. Arya would never let that happen again. The Seven Kingdoms were finally at peace, they didn't need Jon to start a pointless war on her behalf. Besides, if Euron was going to die, it would be by her hand.

But if Gendry kept asking, what could she do? He knew something was up, and it would only be a matter of time before he told Jon that she had ever been a slave at all. And Jon would put the pieces together quick enough. Arya being a slave at the time Daenerys ruled Meereen, Daenerys recognising her, Arya's own proficiency with a weapon. And once he knew...

Arya needed Gendry to never find out. "Stupid, bull headed, bastard boy," she swore, rounding a corner.

"I hope you aren't talking about me."

Arya looked up. Jon stood a few feet away, smiling at her, and Arya relaxed. If he knew he wouldn't be so calm. Arya smiled softly at him, stepping closer.

"You look... beautiful, little sister," he said. The effect was immediate; her smile disappeared and she scowled at him, causing him to laugh. Arya thought she saw his hand twitch, as if to reach and muss her hair, but on second thoughts he put his hand down. He chuckled, stepping closer. "I take it that Sansa had to force you into it?" He asked.

"You have no idea," she answered darkly. He smiled... but then the smile seemed to become forced and his eyes seemed to dull a little. Arya creased her brow, but as soon as the expression had come it had gone. Something was wrong. He knows, she thought. But no, he couldn't- or he would already be murderous about it.

He offered a forced smile. "Well, you won't have to stay long, just long enough to save me a dance," he said, smiling what Arya had always thought of as his Jon-smile. Left corner twitched a couple of times and then slowly pulled up.

Arya huffed. "You know I can't dance," she sighed.

He shrugged. "Neither can I, but whats wrong with wanting to dance with my sister?" He asked the question so innocently that Arya could not help but smile as she remembered how he would always dance with her when she was a child. At feasts all of the young lords and lords to be wanted to dance with Sansa, but Arya was the horse faced youngest daughter, and no one had been interested in her- apart from Jon. He would walk up to wherever she was sat and bow so low that she would think his nose must almost be touching his knees, and he would courteously ask her to dance. She would giggle and agree, and he would stand her on his feet and throw her in the air, twirling her until she was dizzy and laughing from her belly.

"I suppose there isn't," she smiled warmly. "But only the one, and do not ask me to dance with anyone else!" She warned sternly.

"Duly noted, My Lady," he smiled, bowing slightly. He reached his hand out, the one that he did not keep gloved, and put it on her shoulder, before sliding it to her cheek. For a split second Arya thought that she saw that look in his face again. "I must go now, and welcome everyone into the hall," he sighed, and Arya smiled; he hated it almost as much as she did. At least Arya wouldn't have to open the damn thing.

Arya watched him go, smiling softly, and sat down on a stone bench. How she wished things could be as they once were. Simple, happy. Her mother and her father together, smiling at each other and their children. Robb, laughing and dancing with the ladies, Sansa blushing prettily at some lordling and whispering with her friends. Bran slipping Summer bits of food under the table, and Rickon chasing after Shaggydog on wobbly legs. Jon sat at the back, on his own, watching the merriment with a quiet smile.

Arya sat there for a while before standing up and making her way to the hall. The doors were open now and she could hear the feast inside. She cursed; if she walked in now everyone would be looking. She just hoped that everyone would be distracted by the feast. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the hall. The dining hall was massive, ten times the one at Winterfell, and the Great Hall in Winterfell was not small itself. The trestle tables were set up in a huge U shape around the outside of the hall, with the queens table on the dais at the back.

Arya felt the way the room seemed to still when she walked in, the way faces turned towards her like dominoes. Swallowing, Arya made her way across the room, praying to whatever God was up there that she didn't trip and fall in her stupid dress. Fully aware of the eyes on her Arya made her way to the empty seat between Gendry and Lord Tyrion. As she reached the table people went back to talking, and Arya just knew it would be about her, the odd girl from the North.

Arya sat down at the table, shooting Gendry a frown, which made him smile and shake his head. "I would have waited for you, but I figured you had run off back to the Wall," he said, his tone light.

Arya had to smile, just a little. "I still just might," she threatened, making him smile again.

"That would be a shame, my lady," Tyrion said from beside her, wine in hand. "I believe that you've made quite the impression on the court." He smiled at her and rubbed the place where his nose should be.

Arya wasn't sure what he meant by that, so she simply smiled and changed the subject. "I hear you're Lord of Casterly Rock now," she said instead, looking for a jug of water. Gendry noticed, and reached for one. She thanked him and poured a cup before looking back to Tyrion.

"You hear correct," he said, raising his own cup, though Arya was sure whatever he was drinking was not water. "Oh how my father must be rolling in his grave," he said dryly, taking a gulp. He looked her up and down before turning back to his wine. "I see you've put aside your armour for tonight," he said, not looking at her, and Arya was about to ask what he meant, and that she didn't wear armour, and that even if she wasn't dressed for a battle she was armed for one- when the hall went quiet. Arya looked up to see Daenerys had stood up, wine in hand.

"My Lords and Ladies," she said, smiling around the room. "It has been a year since the Long Night, and the new dawn is a bright one. The Seven Kingdoms are at peace and recovering well. Trade with the Free Cities is more profitable than ever, and," she looked down at Jon, who was seated beside her, with a warm smile, "we are all reunited at last. Jon, Aegon and myself are stronger than ever, thanks to our ever supportive banners. Lady Sansa will soon be joining High Garden to cement the peace. And of course, Lady Arya has returned home. So," she raised her glass, "Raise your glasses with me, for a new dawn."

Jon stood up beside her, and raised his own. "For a new dawn," he said, smiling at Daenerys, "and long may it last."

There was a scarping of chairs on the floor as the room stood up and raised their glasses. "A new dawn," people called at different times, "and long may it last!" Arya stood up a second too late, and raised her water for lack of wine. She mumbled the words quickly and sipped, still blushing from the queen calling attention to her. Arya looked over at her as she sat down, to see the beautiful woman was watching her, and as their eyes made contact Arya saw the queen nod at her, and raise her glass imperceptibly. Arya nodded back and looked away, wondering what it had been about.

The rest of the meal passed in peace, and soon enough the servants came to clear the plates away. Daenerys stood again and called for music, and as the band struck up people flooded the floor. Arya watched from her seat as people swayed and turned in unison, dresses swishing and whirling, laughter ringing up to the ceiling.

"You're not going to dance, my lady?" Tyrion asked, nodding at the dancers.

Arya shot him a look. "I don't plan on it, my lord, no. Dancing is not exactly something I am good at."

He laughed and raised his glass; Arya wondered how many he had had. "To that, Lady Arya, I can relate. Fuck dancing," he toasted.

Arya couldn't help but smile and raise her glass. "Fuck dancing," she repeated, drinking. The dwarf grinned at her and gulped noisily, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He stood up and excused himself, before waddling off.

"He drinks a lot," Arya observed, turning to Gendry.

He nodded. "Aye, he does, but I believe tonight is particularly difficult for him," he said, before elaborating at seeing her confusion. "Today was the day his brother died, two years ago. He doesn't normally drink so much." He stood up, and held his hand out to her. Arya stared at it and he sighed. "Dance with me?"

Arya narrowed her eyes. "You promised no dancing," she accused.

He shrugged. "I also promised no dress, but look at you. Come on," he said, smiling. Arya hesitated and placed her hand in his. He led her down the steps the the dance floor, where they both stood somewhat awkwardly, unsure what to do. Gendry put a hand at her waist, and she moved hers to his shoulders.

"I warn you," he said, "I have never danced before." Arya laughed once under her breath.

"Well, you'll likely fare better than I," she said. He smiled and they began moving, attempting to copy the other dancers. Arya watched how Gendry looked down at their feet every few seconds, stumbling through the paces.

"I see that the blackmail wasn't enough to get you into heels," he said, looking down at her warmly. Arya chuckled, and he looked down at his feet again, before tripping.

"If you look up you'll be able to balance better," she said, reaching up and taking his chin in her hand. His skin was hot to the touch, and he nodded. "My Septa told me that once. "You have two left feet, Arya, so I advise you don't look at them" were her exact words." Gendry chuckled.

"I bet your Septa just loved you for a student," he japed and Arya allowed herself to laugh freely.

"I was awful," she admitted. "Sansa was always the lady, the star pupil. I think Septa Mordane wished I would somehow bang my head one day and see the light. The only thing I was any good at was household lessons, but it was Maester Luwen that taught us maths." She remembered how she used to run Septa Mordane around and around the whole castle, causing trouble.

"Did you like learning how to run a household?" He asked curiously.

Arya twitched her nose and bit her lip. "I liked being better at something than Sansa for a change," she said, causing him to laugh, "but my favourite was history. I loved to learn about Aegon and Visenya and Rheanys and their dragons. About Good Queen Alysanne and Nymeria's thousands of ships." She smiled; she remembered all of the stories she had learned as a child.

Gendry watched her thoughtfully as they turned. "It must have been nice to grow up in a castle, with Septas and Maesters."

Arya watched him carefully for any emotion on his face but he gave nothing away. "I guess it was," she admitted, "but it wasn't always easy. Having everyone look to you and know you disappointed them for not being more like Sansa." That was true at least; Jon had been her only true friend.

He smiled. "Well, for what its worth, I prefer you as you are," he admitted, and Arya raised a brow in surprise. "You're beautiful in a dress, it's true, but it's plain to see you aren't comfortable. I like you in leather and wool, your hair messy from riding. I like watching you train so hard that you sweat. You wouldn't be you if you were like Sansa."

Arya felt her eyes widen in surprise at his confession, and her lips parted slightly, unsure what to say. He... preferred her to the ladies of the court? Even with a sailors mouth and swords and bruises? She was about to call him a stupid boy, when his hands dropped to her waist and he hoisted her into the air as if she weighed no more than a doll. She gasped as he span and set her down again, a beat after everyone else.

She swatted his shoulder. "What was that for?" She hissed, blushing, and he smirked.

"I also like it when you get all flustered," he said, just as the song ended. He let go of her somewhat reluctantly. "I must go and speak to Greenbeard," he said, looking over the heads of the dancers. Unable to share the same luxury of being tall Arya could not see, but she assumed he was looking at the old Brotherhood member.

"Why?" She asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "Is something wrong?"

Gendry smiled and shook his head. "No, just someone reported seeing bandits nearby, similar to the one's dominating the Stormlands before I got there." He sighed and rubbed his jaw with his hand. "The locals call their leader the Black Knight. They say he's not human.'"

Arya smiled. "Words are wind," she said. "And like wind, word travels fast. Don't think on it too much; I'm sure he'll drop as fast as any other man with a sword through his heart."

Gendry chuckled. "I hope you're right," he said. "But nevertheless, I must speak to Greenbeard."

She watched after him as he left and then moved to the side of the room, reaching for a glass of water, thirsty after the dance. It hadn't been as bad as she had thought it would be, but it had left her throat dry, and she gulped the water down so fast that a lady to her left pulled a face, which Arya promptly ignored.

She watched the crowds and spotted Sansa. She wore a light pink dress, with a white lining and a fancy golden belt. She was dancing with someone, and Arya creased her brow. The man was tall, though nowhere near as tall as Gendry, and handsome too- with two perfectly healthy legs. Not Wyllas Tyrell then, Arya thought. Yet Sansa seemed to smile at him in a way that Arya could only recall as the way her mother used to smile at their father. Before Arya could think any more about it someone spoke from behind her.

"Cat."

Arya turned around to see a tall and wiry man, with silver hair and violet eyes, the same eyes as the queen. Arya blinked. "You've changed your hair," she said without thinking, causing the king to chuckle.

"So have you," he said, tweaking one of her long braids. "How are you Cat? The last time I saw you was on the way to Lorath. I heard what happened there." He watched her intently and Arya blushed. Another person that knew about what had happened to her. Great.

"I survived," she said simply, looking him up and down. "As did you, apparently." He was taller than last she had seen him, and broader in the shoulder and chest, but when she imagined him with blue hair she could still see the Young Griff from her past.

He smiled and nodded. "So I did," he said, before offering her his hand. "Will you dance?" He asked. Arya hesitated and he smirked. "You wouldn't deny a king now, would you?" Arya smiled and hesitantly placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

He confidently took the position, the song faster and more upbeat than the one she had danced to with Gendry. He held up one hand, the other folded behind his back, and waited for her to match him. She did, and then they were off. Aegon was a good dancer, she observed, and his confident paces were easier to keep up with than Gendry's jolted and unsure ones.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked as they turned a circle.

He shrugged. "I didn't until I saw you walk into the hall, late I might add," he added, teasing her. She blushed and smiled. "I hear that you're a lady now, Cat. That's one hell of a journey, from a fisher girl in Braavos to a Lady of Winterfell and the Seven Kingdoms- soon to be Lady of Storms End." They parted momentarily and swapped hands before starting again, as was part of the dance required for this song.

Arya sighed. "Not if I can help it," she said, and he smiled. She looked down and then back up. "But what of you? A sellsword's son to the King of Westeros. Now that's what I call one hell of journey, Griff. But it isn't Griff anymore, I suppose, just as I'm not Cat."

He looked down at her, smiling almost sadly. "It was easier then, wasn't it? Simpler. When I was a boy called Griff and you were a girl called Cat." He put his hands on her waist and picked her up, with more strength than she had first guessed he had. Not as strong as Gendry though, she thought in the back of her mind.

"I have to ask that you promise not to tell anyone that you knew me, Gr- your Grace," she corrected herself. He raised a brow.

"Aegon is fine," he said suspiciously. "And why not? It doesn't seem important." He narrowed his eyes.

Arya shook his head. "Look, no one knows what happened after Braavos and Lorath, so just keep quiet will you?" She asked, her voice hushed as he span her beneath his arm, her skirt flaring out. "I don't want anyone to know."

He watched her, his purple Targaryen eyes watching her scrutinizing. They were a lighter shade than Daenerys'. "Why not?"

Arya sighed, wishing he would just stop. "I don't want Gendry to know, but I especially don't want Jon to know." He raised a brow and she sighed impatiently. "Alright look, if people ask just say that we met on the way to Westeros. You took pity on the orphaned fish girl, and afforded her passage on your ship."

He nodded. "I still don't understand why no one can know about what happened to you. I imagine it would lead to Jon having Euron executed. Isn't that what you want? Revenge?" He twisted her around.

When she came back she replied. "Of course I do... but on my own terms." She waited a moment. "So you'll keep it a secret, what happened at Lorath?"

He hesitated and span her away again. When she face him again he answered her. "You won't put yourself at risk?" He asked, squeezing her hand.

She almost rolled her eyes. "You know that I can look after myself," She answered, but he didn't appear reassured. She sighed. "I swear I will not put myself at risk- do you promise now?"

He smiled and bowed on the last note of the song. "I swear it Lady Cat," he teased. "Your secrets are my secrets." He smiled and then walked away, disappearing into the crowd of smiling and laughing people. Arya still felt somewhat shocked at seeing him, even more surprised that he had recognised her so easily. Arya sighed and was about to turn and go to sit down, her feet aching, when someone tapped her back. She turned around.

"You promised me a dance, remember?" Jon said, smiling down at her. Arya almost groaned, and she thanked the gods that she had fought Sansa about her footwear; had she conceded to wear heels she would be on her knees by now.

"I was actually just going to sit down," she said, and he shook his head good naturedly.

"Not yet. I need to talk to you."

Arya was taken aback by how serious he sounded. "Well, I suppose I can spare one dance for my big brother," she smiled, taking his hand. He smiled down at her and took her waist, the music starting. Jon wasn't as bad as Gendry, but he wasn't by any means a good dancer. He was able to dance passably well but she struggled to keep up, for he hadn't the confident grace of Aegon nor was he as free and innovative as Gendry had been.

"I saw you dancing with my brother," he mentioned as she turned beneath his arm somewhat awkwardly. "You seemed familiar with him," he said casually.

Arya nodded as he turned them around, stumbling. "I told you on the way to Winterfell that I'd met him before." He cocked a brow, and Arya was glad that she had had the chance to go over the story with Aegon minutes ago. "He didn't know who I was, nor I him at the time, but I sailed to Westeros with him," she told him. "He still had blue hair then."

Jon blinked, and grinned. "He had blue hair?" He asked. She nodded and he laughed from his stomach, causing a few of the partners around them to shoot them looks.

"He called himself Young Griff," she recounted, smiling. It must be strange for him to have found out, after all these years, that he had a brother- a brother from his real father and not his uncle.

"What about you?" He asked. "Who were you back then?"

Arya swallowed. "I called myself Cat," she said, keeping it true. "Cat of the Canals. He found me when their ship stopped in Essos and he gave me passage. I don't believe Jon Connington was too impressed about it." Ah- Connington. She would have to fins out if he was alive as well, for he knew her secret as well. He seemed like the sort of man that would not wish to stir up trouble... but then, he had seemed fiercely loyal to the throne, and who knew what he would do? She shrugged mentally; it would be easy enough to sort out. She smiled, only to see that Jon's face was entirely serious now, surprising her. "Jon?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked suddenly. Arya looked up, startled by the question. His face seemed almost wracked with pain, and her stomach jolted. He knows. She slipped her face into a mask, but it was too late; he had seen her expression. "Dany told me."

"... I see."

They had stopped dancing. "I- why did you say nothing when you found out Euron was still alive?" He asked. "I would have done something, something more than sending you South and away from him. I would have killed him for you." He took her chin in his hand, but she shook it off.

"That is precisely why I said nothing," she said. "I knew what you would do, but Euron Greyjoy is mine and mine alone. You didn't need to know." She let go of his hand and stepped back. "I'm not your little sister anymore, Jon. I'm not yours anymore." She felt a kick of guilt immediately at the wounded expression on his face, but she couldn't take the words back. Unable to deal with the heartbroken face she moved back a step and then turned. When walking wasn't fast enough she pulled the stupid skirts on her dress right up to her hips and ran.

She heard people calling her, Jon and Sansa, but she ignored them. She ran through the crowds and out of the doors, across the open courtyard. She made her way through the castle, her heart thudding and her breath fast, her eyes stinging and her thoughts a jumbled mess. Now what was she supposed to do? She couldn't- she wouldn't apologise. Arya rushed to her chambers and kicked the door open.

A maid had lit the fire, casting orange shadows throughout the room, and Arya yanked her stupid dress off. She should never have come here, she had known that. If she hadn't been so stupid she would have left Gendry long ago- fuck it, she was a Faceless Assassin, and she needed to remember that! She yanked her clothes on in a rush, and sat on the bed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw colours.

They knew now, and it would not be long before Gendry knew, and the he would make good on his promise and never let her out of his sight. She wouldn't get the opportunity to find Euron and kill him if Gendry had her under surveillance around the clock. But Euron could be anywhere, on the other side of Westeros, in Essos- wherever he was he would be surrounded by water and his own men.

But she couldn't stay here. Not where Jon and Sansa and Aegon and Gendry were all going to searching for her, not this foul place where she had striven to never see again. This place her father had died in. She needed to do something, something that was her. Arya needed to be free, to be alone, just as she always had been.

Gendry... he meant a lot to her. That was why she had stayed so long when she never should have. She needed to start remembering who she was again, and she couldn't do that here. She jumped up and grabbed a jerkin, her sword belt and weapons. Ideally she would take furs and food too, but there wasn't time. For all she knew he, or they, could be headed after her now. She crossed the room hurriedly and dropped the heavy bar across into its slots. The thing was huge, the only way anyone coming could open the door would be to take it off its hinges. It wouldn't hold anyone forever, but it would buy her some time.

Arya cast a look about the room as she sheathed Dark Sister. Without looking back, Arya hopped up onto the window ledge. She heard footsteps on the other side of the door, and with one last breath, leapt.


Gendry walked back into the hall, surprised by the commotion, having been out in a courtyard with Anguy and Greenbeard. When he walked back in the lords and ladies all seemed to be gossiping and no one was dancing. Confused, he pushed his way through the crowds, searching the sea of faces for Arya or Jon or Sansa, someone who might be able to explain to him what was happening. Eventually he caught sight of Sansa, talking to a man that Gendry did not know.

"Sansa," he said, walking over to her. She turned around and Gendry was surprised further to see that worry was etched upon her face.

"Gendry," she said, sliding immediately to courtesy. "This is Harold Hardying, the Lord of the Eyrie. Harry, this is Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End." Gendry reached out and caught the other mans forearm in greeting.

"You're betrothed to my lady's wild sister, are you not?" He asked. Gendry held his breath and exhaled tersely. He should have known the cause of the commotion was Arya.

"Aye, I am," he said, before turning to Sansa. "What has she done now? Did she stab someone?" Harold seemed to think he was joking for a moment, but Sansa's serious answer sobered him.

She shook her head. "No, but if you don't find her soon she may end up doing just that," she said. "Jon is in through there, you had best go and speak to him before you find her."

Gendry creased his brow. "What did she do? Surely it wasn't that bad?"

Sansa shook her head in exasperation. "In all fairness Arya didn't do anything that couldn't be expected, but you really ought to see Jon. He'll explain, and maybe you can knock some sense into him when he's finished." Gendry blinked at her harsh words, but nodded and strode off in the direction she had pointed, through the ante chamber and into a small audience chamber, lit by candles and a roaring hearth.

"Jon, you can't!" The queen was whispering in loud tones, while Jon stood his ground. Aegon leaned against the hearth appearing utterly amused by the whole situation. They all looked up when he entered, and Aegon chuckled.

"And so the husband arrives," he said, his tone strange. Gendry ignored it.

"What in seven hells is going on?" He asked. "I leave for twenty minutes and I come back to chaos, only to find that Arya has gone missing!" He breathed out heavily, dreading to hear what had happened. He never should have stopped in Kings Landing!

Jon looked him straight in the eye. "I found out what Arya has been hiding, from you, from me- from all of us."

Aegon snorted again and crossed his arms. "Not from me," he said, smirking when Jon shot his older brother a filthy look.

"Will one of you just explain to me what is going on?" Gendry snapped, losing his patience and not caring if he was speaking to royalty.

Daenerys stepped around Jon, her silver hair glowing ominously in the fire light. "You were the one to inform Jon of Arya's time as a slave," she said carefully, "and that Euron Greyjoy was the one that captured and sold her." Gendry nodded, wondering what it had to do with anything. Daenerys sighed and sat down gracefully. "Well, we were able to piece together some more of the story, and this fool decided a good time to tell her was in the middle of the feast." She explained it with an almost guilty expression.

Gendry blinked. "I see... but I don't understand why this would cause such a commotion." Unless... "Did she kill someone? Did she try to kill you?" He asked, looking at Jon. "Wait, what did you even discover?"

Aegon pushed away from the wall, an odd expression on his face. "You see, the girl that you know as Arya Stark, I knew as Cat. Cat of the Canals," he explained. Gendry exhaled, confused. "And she knew me as Griff, a sell swords son. We met in Braavos, and I gave her passage on my ship to Lorath." Gendry felt his brow crease in confusion. What did this, what did any of this, have to do with Arya being missing? "She made me promise when we were dancing not to tell any of you, but with what has happened I hardly think it matters now."

Gendry snapped his gaze up. "You danced with Arya?" He asked, half surprised, half jealous.

Daenerys cleared her throat. "Try to focus, Gendry," she advised and he nodded, thinking back to what Aegon had said.

Lorath... that sounded familiar. "When was this?" He asked the Targaryen.

"Around four years ago. During the time that-"

"- that Euron Greyjoy was taking slaves from the Free Cities and sailing to Slavers Bay," Gendry finished. So her slavery had come up. No wonder she was pissed. He sighed and scrubbed his jaw; if she hadn't known before that he had told Jon when she had asked him not to, she would assume that now. "I don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "We already knew this."

Daenerys shook her head, and Jon stood, angry and sullen behind her, his face weathered with fury and bitterness that shocked Gendry. He had seen the man angry before, and he always seemed somewhat weary, but he had never seen him like this before. "We did... but I know more of the tale. You see," she said, standing up and walking to the fire place, "I met her once before. She saved my life."

Gendry's eyes snapped over to her. "What do you mean?" He asked, impatient. Why would no one just tell him straight?!

Daenerys sighed and turned back around to face him. "I remember her face, I'm certain... though I could have sworn the girl I saw had scars, unforgettable scars on her face." She appeared troubled for a moment. "It was in Meereen, when I was queen there. I was forced to re open the fighting pits, but one day there was a rebellion and I nearly died... had one of the fighting slaves, a young girl that the crowds called Dark Heart, not saved my life." She looked straight into Gendry's eyes. "It was Arya, I'm almost certain of it."

Gendry realised how much his hands were trembling and forced himself to unclench his fists. Arya... a gladiator... it couldn't- it wasn't... was it? But it all fit, all of the things that he had been putting together slowly... was this the last piece of the puzzle? "Are you certain?" He asked, his voice stronger than he thought it would be.

She hesitated and then said "I recognised her the moment I saw her, but... those scars. I would never forget them, and Arya does not have those scars on her face. But other than that..." She trailed off and sat down again, twisting the fabric of her skirts in her hands.

Gendry swallowed and turned around, rubbing his jaw with his face again. He hated to admit it, but it didn't sound far off the truth, just a possible answer to the riddle he had been labouring over for months. And... Jon had thought it a good idea to just brig it up? In the middle of the feast? For a moment Gendry wanted to hit the man for his stupidity. And Dark Heart... where had he heard that before? Not in years, surely, but he was certain he had heard the phrase. Arya knew how to look after herself. But he would not ever let her get hurt. He turned around. "When did she leave?" He asked, looking to Jon.

Jon did not answer, instead looking up. Fire blazed in the depths of his grey eyes, and not from the reflection of the roaring hearth. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill Euron Greyjoy."

Gendry frowned. "Not if I do first," he muttered darkly, already picturing thrusting a sword through the mans throat.

Aegon rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you ought to actually speak to the girl first?" He asked sarcastically. "Arya is the one Euron is after, and seeing as you," he gestured to Jon, who glowered back at him darkly, "just unveiled her biggest secret that she has been hiding for years, what do you think she is doing right now?"

Gendry swallowed and looked to Jon. "When did she leave?" He asked again.

"Two minutes before you came," he sighed. "Gods, it's my fault. I just blurted it out without thinking... we have to find her and apologise."

Aegon stepped in again, sighing in exasperation. "Did you really not hear anything I just said?" The two men looked at him in confusion. "Look, Jon, Cat- Arya- has been separating that past from her present for years, and you just brought it up. How do you think she is feeling right now?" He said the words with utter exasperation, and he turned around in disbelief when both men came up blank.

Daenerys put her hand on Jon's arm. "Jon, when you brought it up you broke whatever wall Arya has been building between the past and the present. Even if she won't acknowledge it, she is feeling confused, angry, and likely scared. She will want this over with so that she can move on. So what do you think she is doing right now?"

Jon paled.

He strode to the door and called the guards. "I want the Keep sealed off now," he said. "No one leaves." The guards nodded and left, their armour clanking down the hall. Jon turned to the others. "I don't care if Arya is a seasoned gladiator, or whatever else she is- she is my baby sister. I will not risk her putting herself in harms way like this. Right now she is not thinking rationally; she will go off after Euron, and it could cost her life."

Dun, DUN, DUUUUNNN! Big oofs all around. Woah, so I hope you liked it, give it a review if you did! Or if you didn't, but that would make me sad :( So I know that obviously none of this happened, that is kind of the point! Please try to remember this; I have had a couple of pm's stating this, non of them mean or rude at all, but I'm just saying- I know that I have changed things from the books and TV programme! That being said, I hope you enjoyed it, if you did let me know your thoughts, if you didn't- let me know your thoughts anyway! It helps me to know what you guys want from the story! Anyway, that's all from me, over and out! xox