A/N: I love you guys, I really do! You people are too good to me in your words and comments. Another thing, I am not a Dany hater for the anon that got mad at me! I actually really love the girl! Anyway, all will be revealed in the next few chapters! It's fixing to get majorly intense! Now, on with the chapter...

Arya awoke as she felt the creature set them down on the ground again. Edric gently scooped her into his arms, walking towards a large castle. Her eyes were open, yet she refused to speak to him. Even as one question after the other fell from his mouth, she was planning a slow death for him in her mind. She glared at him with her eyes, begging her body to work properly again. He looked down at her with his purple-looking eyes, his mouth breaking out into a smile.

"I know what you are thinking love, but if you will give me time, I will make you love me as I love you," he whispered.

The shadow of the large front door fell upon her as he walked her through. Arya felt the feeling slowly coming back in her fingers and toes. She could barely wiggle them, but it was a start. She would concentrate all her power on each limb until she was able to stand and fight on her own. Desperation clouded her mind as she thought of watching the large chunk of tree fall on Gendry and his men. Her mind was telling her there was no way he could have survived such a thing, yet her heart was telling her he was still alive. For now, she would hold true to her heart.

"What is this?" said a voice before her. "What is this?" the voice said louder.

"Dany, let me explain," Edric said, his voice sounding a little nervous.

Arya forced her head to move. It did, but just an inch. It was enough to see a woman standing at the end of a large room. The walls of the room were made of black granite, as black as the floors below her. The woman was seated on a throne, but she began to rise. Slowly she rose, until she was standing fully above them.

"What have you done?" she whispered, her eyes growing wide.

Her eyes shot towards Arya, both women staring at one another. She pleaded with the woman, pleaded for her help.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" the woman screamed.

Edric stopped suddenly at her scream. Arya heard him swallow, his hold on her tightening. The woman moved at once, hurrying out of Arya's vision. One minute, she was gone, but the next, she stood inches from Arya's face. She placed something on the ground, motioning for Edric to sit her upon it. He did as the woman bid, lying Arya on the softest pillows she had ever felt.

They moved away from her, standing before her. Edric's back was turned to her, yet she could see the slight shake of his shoulders. Was he afraid of this woman? Should she be afraid of this woman? Arya raised her eyes to look at her. She had long, white-blond hair. Her face was as beautiful as Arya had ever seen a face be. She had full lips, and the gown she wore flowed, as if made by clouds.

"Who is she and where is the Bull that rides the Wildfire?" the woman seethed.

"I could not get to him. His men surrounded him most of the night. If I would have tried, they would have killed me, no matter if they would have recognized me. Thoros would not have been able to save me.

Thoros?

The woman turned her eyes towards Arya again, anger bleeding out of them. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Arya, of House Stark," Edric answered. "And I want her," he added softly.

The woman's face shot to Edric, the anger growing higher. "Stark? As in Eddard Stark?"

"Yes, the very same one, sweet aunt. I arrived too late to stop the wedding, but I took the girl just before she went to lay with her husband."

The woman's hand shot out, grabbing Edric's throat. It squeezed the flesh for a moment, before she blew a breath out. She released him and began to pace. "Why? Why would you take the girl! Your orders were to go to the man named Gendry and tell him of my desire to speak with him! You were not to have TAKEN THE GIRL!"

"It is the next best thing. Send a raven to let him know of your desire to see him. He will do as you wish. I took the girl, because I want her for myself!"

Arya flinched at his words.

"You want her for yourself?" the woman hissed. "Do you have any idea what you have done by taking her! I need the Bull's alliance. I need his men, but you have made us an enemy! You are right, nephew, he will come, but with his fury and vengeance! Release the girl and pray I can quiet the Bull's anger!"

"You should not fear him. You have your dragons. What does he have? Mortal men."

"He has the alliance of forty thousand men and most of Westeros!" she screamed. "He has everything I need, yet you do not think of this. You are more like your father than I thought!"

"Do not speak of my father," Edric growled.

The woman walked slowly to stand in front of him. Her eyes bore in to his, her chest heaving in anger. "I will speak of my brother how I wish. You are just as big a fool as him! You know the story, Aegon! You know what his love for a Stark girl cost him!"

"Aegon?" Arya whispered, surprising even her own self that she could speak.

Both the woman and Aegon turned to look at her, for they had heard her whisper. The woman bent before her, brushing Arya's long hair away from her face. "Are you hurt, child?" she asked softly, her voice as velvet.

"No," Arya said softly. Feeling continued to grow within her body. She could raise her arm slightly, move her leg just a bit. "Aegon? Aegon Targaryen?"

"That's right, Arya. I'm Daenarys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. The man that took you is my nephew, the lost prince Aegon Targaryen."

Arya felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. She had heard the stories of her aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. She had heard of how he had kidnapped her, causing King Robert's fury to start a war in her name. Blood had been shed throughout Westeros, yet it was for nothing as Lyanna had died in Arya's father's arms. Could it be possible that history was repeating itself?

"Aegon is dead!" Arya hissed, not believing it.

"That is what some would want you to believe, but it is true. He lives, though I question his good sense at the moment," Daenarys said, her eyes shooting toward Aegon. He looked away, his face growing red in shame.

"Let me go, or history will repeat itself," Arya pleaded.

"No harm will come to you, I swear it! You will be released to Ser Gendry when he arrives. My nephew will apologize and speak nothing of his true intentions."

"Like the seven hells I will," Aegon seethed. "I have thought of nothing but her for three years! Now that she is here, I will not let her go! Why do you fear this Bull so much? You have dragons, sweet aunt, you should be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, instead of fearing someone's wrath.

Daenarys stood to her feet, watching Aegon for a few moments without speaking. "You have no clue, do you?" she whispered. "Yes, I have dragons, but to take what is mine I would have to take it in fire and blood. What kind of ruler would I be? There is a way to do this right, Aegon, and keeping the girl is not that way! As I said before, I need Ser Gendry on my side. I need his numbers behind me! It is not weakness or fear that stays my hand, but it is the love of my people!"

"You can have all that you desire, but the girl is to stay with me! She is his wife, and will only get in the way of your plans. You should be wanting me to keep her."

Daenarys turned to look at Arya again. Her eyes grew distant for a moment. "His wife?" she asked.

"Yes," Aegon answered.

"Was the marriage consummated?"

"No. I stole her away before she went to his bed."

Daenarys began pacing again, her hands wringing in the silk cloth of her gown. Her long hair swished back and forth with her movement. "So, my plan may still work. Only if I can calm the Bull. Aegon, send a raven to Ser Gendry. Tell him to come here and that the girl is unharmed. Tell him she is not my prisoner but awaits his arrival."

"Dany..."

"Do it!" she commanded.

"Why are you doing this to me? I have pledged my everything to you! I have given up my claim to the throne for you and your dragons, and yet you deny me the only thing I want! Why?" Aegon bellowed.

"She is not yours to claim, not yet! If Ser Gendry agrees to my plan, then she will be free to be with whomever she wants. Until that time, you are to treat her as a guest. You leave her be!"

"What plan?" Arya asked, her skin pricking with foreboding.

Both Daenarys and Aegon turned to look at her. "The claim to the throne is mine, but the people wish to have Ser Gendry on the throne. I will propose marriage to join both of our Houses and to have the people's approval. If he wants this done peacefully, he will have no choice but to accept. I—I am truly sorry, Arya," Daenarys said softly.

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

"Push, men! Puuuuush!" Harwin screamed.

Gendry laid his hand against the large chunk of tree that fell upon him and his men. When it had fallen, he had thought he had moved far enough away, but he never expected it to roll. Now, he found himself on his back, his leg stuck underneath. The blazing fire inched its way towards him. The pain shooting through his body could be seen on his face. Sweat poured from his brow as his eyes closed and his jaw clinched.

"Get it off, now!" he yelled to the men.

He could feel the flames licking at his skin, could feel it burning him already. Just a few more minutes and he would burn in the orange flames. The pain intensified, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. He wanted to pass out, just to escape the hot flames and pain.

More men joined the ones already trying to move the chunk of tree. They turned their backs, grabbing a part of the tree that wasn't on fire and heaved upwards with their backs.

"That's it, men, just like that!" Harwin boomed.

Gendry could feel the pressure on his leg begin to ease, but the flames were inches from him now. It would lick his left arm first and climb towards his face. He felt his hair begin to singe at the closeness of the flames. His chest heaved, his blue eyes growing wide. Gendry grabbed his trapped leg, grinding out a growl of unimaginable pain.

In the last moments, before the flames reached him, Gendry felt someone grab him from behind and pull. His leg came free of the chunk of tree, and he felt the coolness of the night again. At once, his men surrounded him to survey the damage. He could do nothing but close his eyes and allow the darkness to take over.

"If we do not stop the bleeding, he will lose that leg!" Someone screamed above his head. Gone was the night sky, but a tent above his head. He could hear several people moving around him. Their movements spoke of their frantic state. Gendry could barely open his eyes, so he chose to close them once more and drift back into darkness.

The next time his eyes opened, he could see Harwin and Thoros sitting at his side. The men were talking, but their words were a jumbled mess in his mind. Had he lost his leg? He was too weak to search for the answer. His body screamed for the darkness again, so he gave in once more.

Twice more after that, Gendry tried to rouse from the darkness, but he was weak. Each time, he would hear soft voices speaking around him, yet it was not the voice he wanted to hear, that he needed to hear. In the hands of darkness, he replayed Arya being taken from him over and over. Gendry was in his own personal hell. Not even the pain from his leg could cut as deep as his failure to protect her for a second time.

Finally, it seemed as if his mind was clearing. He could see light shining behind his closed eyelids. Voices rose in volume, becoming more pronounced to where he could tell them a part.

"He is stirring," someone whispered closed to his right side.

Gendry groaned as he moved his head from side to side, his eyes coming open slowly. It was day by the looks of the light shining through the tent. His hand came towards his face, though it took in a few moments to get control of his movements. His arms felt as if they weighed a ton.

"It is the Milk of the Poppy, Ser Gendry. It will ease its hold on you momentarily.

"Milk of the Poppy?" Gendry said, his voice hoarse.

"We had to give it to you. Your pain was unbearable, and we needed you to rest to gain your strength back."

Gendry looked over to Thoros. The man looked as if he had not slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot. Hair had begun to grow on his chin.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"T—two weeks," Thoros answered, his words barely visible.

Gendry stared at the man, not believing what the man had just said. "Two weeks?" he croaked.

Two weeks that Arya had been taken. Two weeks that she was with gods knows who. Two weeks that he had been flat on his back while she could have been tortured or worse...killed. He tried to swallow, but his throat would not cooperate.

"You kept me under for two weeks?" he asked, his anger rising.

"We had no choice, Ser Gendry. You should be dead, for who could have survived what you survived? You should have lost that leg, but still the gods remain on your side. Not even a broken bone for such a large chunk of tree to roll on top of you!"

With more strength than he felt he really had, Gendry began to sit up. Thoros was at his side at once, helping him to sit on the edge of the bed. His injured leg dangled before him, yet by looking at the leg, you could tell that nothing had happened. There was a deep ache, something he felt he would always have, but when he flexed his foot, his foot obliged.

"Arya," Gendry said, softly.

"Ser Gendry, there is something we need to discuss first," Thoros said, but went quiet at Gendry's sharp look.

"There is nothing more important to me than getting her back, so whatever it is that you want to discuss with me better be about her. Who took her Thoros? Who was it?"

The man closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. To Gendry, he looked guilty of something. Gendry grabbed the sheets in fists, his knuckles growing white with rage.

"You know something, do you not?" he whispered.

"I do. Do you remember Edric Dayne?"

Gendry's forehead furrowed in confusion. The name rang a bell. Suddenly, a face appeared in his mind. A young boy, with long blond hair and eyes so blue they looked purple.

"Dondarrion's squire?"

"Yes. He is the one that took Arya."

"Why?" Gendry breathed, his eyes growing wide.

Thoros' hand shot up to his face, rubbing his sweaty skin. "I have known him since he was a babe on his mother's bosoms. He is not who you think he is, Ser Gendry, though who he really is will come as a shock to all."

"Who. Is. He," Gendry growled, his patience growing thin.

"Baratheons are not the only men who are drawn to Stark women," Thoros whispered. "Do you remember the story of your father's rebellion?"

Yes, it was often told around the forge. It started because of Arya's aunt, my father's betrothed."

"That is correct. So, you know that Rhaegar Targaryen saw Lyanna Stark and instantly became infatuated with her. He stole her away from King Robert, and thus starting a long and bloody battle."

"I already know all of this, Thoros! What is your point!" Gendry said, becoming impatient.

"It was thought that Rhaegar's two children, a girl and a boy, were killed by Gregor Clegane. It was told that the man smashed the the baby boy's head on stone, so unrecognizable that some refused to believe it was even a child at all. But, there was something that Clegane did not know. There was something that your father did not know. The baby boy that died on that night was not Aegon Targaryen. We could not get to the small girl in time, but the boy was saved. The baby Clegane murdered was an orphan, and no one ever knew the difference. Of the two dead children laid at your father's feet, only one was the true child of Rhaegar Targaryen."

Gendry's eyes went wide hearing this. He could not breathe for several moments, for the truth was too unbelievable.

"Edric Dayne is Aegon Targaryen? How do you know this, Thoros? HOW!" Gendry yelled.

"Because I was one of the few men who stole the child away, and brought him into the service of Beric Dondarrion. I was the one who sent him away when Lady Stoneheart took over. I was the one who told him to go look for his aunt, the Mother of Dragons."

At the mention of dragons, Gendry was taken back to the night Arya was kidnapped. The large, black beast had been a horrible and beautiful sight to behold. It was mind-blowing to know dragons existed again after hundreds of years.

"You knew all of this, this whole time, yet you said nothing?" Gendry asked, accusingly.

"I was concerned for the boy's safety. Gendry, I did not want history to repeat itself. You are as much a Baratheon, blood and flesh, as Aegon is a Targaryen. I prayed to the gods, old and new, that the sins of the father would not strike down upon both of your heads, but I should have knew better once the Stark girl appeared."

"You should have told me! I am not my father. I do not share his hate...not until now! I will find them and he will know my fury!"

"Ser Gendry, there are other things that require your attention at the moment. I know what she means to you. Remember, it was I who married you two, but something has happened that threatens all we know and care about!"

Gendry's eyes darkened. "There is nothing that means more to me than Arya. Whatever has happened, I do not care. Westeros can fall into the seven hells, and I will watch it burn gladly as long as she is by my side!"

With that, he slid from the bed. The moment his feet touched the ground, he almost hit the ground. He caught himself on the bed, grinding his teeth against the ache in his leg. Breathing deeply, he tried standing upright. It took several moments, but he was able to stand without help.

"You do not understand, Ser Gendry..." Thoros tried to say, but Gendry interrupted him. "I understand that you betrayed me, Thoros!"

"I did what I had to do and would do it again!" Thoros shot back.

Gendry turned his back to the man, his anger surging through his veins. He wobbled towards the flap of the tent, desperate for his strength to return to him. He would take every last man he had to search for Aegon and Arya. The story of Rhaegar and Lyanna froze his blood solid. After everything was said and done, after all of the fighting and bloodshed, his father had still lost the woman he loved. It would not happen to him. He refused to believe it. His hand grabbed the flap, tearing it out of his way, and walking out. What he saw before him had him frozen in his tracks.

There were people everywhere the eye could see. There were women, children and men. Some where old, yet some were young. Where had they all come from? Why were they here? His wide-eyes looked upon a vast sea of people he did not recognize.

"Ser Gendry, I must ask you to put your anger aside for just a little while to hear what has happened," Thoros said behind him.

"What is this?" Gendry asked, his words but a breath.

His eyes fell on Sansa. Seeing her made Gendry long to have Arya in his arms. She was talking to someone, yet he could not see the man's face. Sansa's face was red and swollen, as if she had been weeping as long as he had been in the darkness. As if she felt his eyes upon her, she turned to him. He could see her lips moving, yet he could not make out what she said.

The man she was talking to turned his body sharply towards Gendry. At once, he could see the man's raw anger shining through his eyes. In long strides, the man came towards Gendry. His men looked upon the man warily. It was as if they feared this man harming him. Even as he came close to Gendry, the man did not slow. Before Gendry knew what was happening, the man had a hold of the front of his shirt. He twisted the fabric in his fists, his angered face inches from Gendry's.

"Where is she?" the man said low and dangerous.

At once, he felt a pang of shame run through him. "I—I don't know," he answered.

"Let him go, now!" Harwin yelled.

The man that grabbed him had several blades pointed at his skin, yet he did not let go. If anything, his hold on Gendry grew stronger.

"Put your swords away," Gendry commanded.

None of his men did as they were told. They took a step towards the man, their blades almost piercing his skin. It was in that moment that other men, none of them Gendry's, stepped forward, their blades drawn as well, yet their blades were pointed at Gendry's men. They all found themselves in a standoff, and the slightest slip would turn it into a bloodbath.

"I said, put your swords away!" Gendry boomed.

"It was your job to protect her!" the man seethed, ignoring that Gendry had just yelled in his face.

He knew at once who this man was, for there could only be one other who would share in his grief and rage of Arya's kidnapping.

"I don't know where she is, but stand with me and we will find her together...Jon Snow."

A/N: What, what, what...Jon Snow has finally decided to join us! Welcome him everyone! Okay, so I can actually say now that we are coming towards the end of this story..awwww! I'm not sure how many more chapters are left, but we are coming to the climatic conclusion, something you DON'T WANT TO MISS! War is coming to Westeros, the likes of which none of them have seen, and not all will survive it! Okay people, you know what to do...review, review, review!