How did everyone like last night's episode? It's probably a favourite among mine...I mean, the Reeds, Cat's speech, Queen of Thorns, Brotherhood Without Banners, Bran's dream...and honestly I am petitioning for Alfie Allen to get nominated for an Emmy. That man is brilliant.

I hope this chapter's alright! I'm not really used to writing in a child's voice...granted, Arya is mature for her age. It may also be a bit rough around the edges because I didn't have a beta. I still hope you guys like it!

I'll definitely try to have another update out before the next episode airs.

Thanks to everyone who reads/subscribes/faves and reviews! I wouldn't be continuing to do this without your support. It means the world to me.

Enjoy! xox

Arya

After speaking with Robb and Elira, she was rushed to the river to get bathed. Lady Arwyn, Ryker's wife- Ryker got married?-, helped undress and bathe her. She was one of Elira's ladies in waiting and had offered to watch over Arya. Arwyn was a petite thing, and quiet, with a simple elegance to her. She wore her nightclothes, which Arya assumed was Ryker's old tunic. She didn't mind, of course; it made her feel a bit better about wearing her ratty old boy's clothes.

Arwyn held Needle in her hands, eyeing the skinny sword dubiously. "And what's a little girl like you doing with a sword?" There was a hint of amusement in her voice as she pulled the weapon out of its scabbard. She stood up and took a few practice swings, the sound of the sword chopping the air like music to Arya's ears.

"It was a gift," the Stark girl explained, wading in the river. The water was freezing in the early morning, but it was also refreshing; she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a bath. She crinkled her nose and clucked her tongue at Arwyn. "You look silly."

The Frey girl stopped what she was doing and stared at the princess quizzically. "I'm sorry?"

Arya sighed and ran her fingers through her wet hair, trying to ease out the tangles. "You're doing it wrong. You're supposed to stand side-face." She felt a twisting in her belly as she remembered her lessons with Syrio Forel. She hoped he was still alright- and alive. Of course he's alright. He's the First Sword of Braavos…

"Smaller target?" Arwyn guessed, fixing her stance. Arya nodded, smiling. "Your sword's too small, anyway." Nonetheless, she takes a few more practice swings before slipping the weapon back into its scabbard. "I would get one of my own, although Ryker wouldn't like that very much." She seemed to be talking to herself, but Arya still paid close attention. She had been taught to not only hear, but to listen. "And he especially wouldn't like it after…" Arwyn drifted off, and only then did she remember Arya's presence.

"Especially after what?" Arya piped up, spinning around in the water. A Water Dancer!

"Never you mind," Arwyn muttered, kneeling next to the river. She scrubbed the princess clean and washed her hair again.

"Tell me!" Arya demanded after coming up for air from underneath the water, finally rinsing off all the soap.

Arwyn looked around her to make sure that no one else was there. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked, helping Arya out of the river.

"A secret?" the girl echoed, her eyes glinting with mirth. She always felt special when entrusted with a secret; it made her feel important. "I can keep it." She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Arwyn didn't respond for quite some time, instead helped Arya dry off and get dressed. They had managed to find a plain dress for her to wear, but Elira had promised that once Arya's clothes were finished being washed and repaired, she could wear her breeches and tunic all she liked.

"Arya?" Arwyn said, combing through the girl's knotted hair.

"Hmm?"

"I'm pregnant. That's why I can't have a sword." Arwyn's breath was knocked out of her when Arya threw her arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. She was excited for the prospect of yet another baby, and another addition to the family. She wasn't even really sure if Arwyn was family, but they were good-sisters, in a way…some distant sort, she knew. She would have to clarify it with Elira, but Arya liked Arwyn enough to call her family.

"When are you going to tell Ryker?" She still hadn't seen the Manston boy, but she figured she would see him later that day. Maybe she would give him a chiding about leaving Sansa; she knew how much her sister had loved him. But she loves Joffrey now…

Arwyn smiled and handed the girl her sword. "Soon enough. There's plenty of time for that." She stood up and offered Arya her hand. "Come along, my princess. You should get some rest."

In the afternoon, after a long nap, Arya was roused and brought to Robb and Elira's tent for lunch. Her brother was holding a war council meeting, so she sat on the cot and ate her stew in silence. She remembered Lord Merek Manston from his visit to Winterfell, but she wondered where his brother was. She caught Ryker's eye and he smiled and waved to her. She didn't see Theon, and she did not know any of the other men, apart from Ser Rodrik, who had quickly ruffled her hair before taking a seat next to Lord Merek.

She played with the babes in the crib while the meeting took place and talked softly with Elira. It was not long before Ned and Lyanna were worn out, and she had to put them back. She would have gone outside the tent to practice with Needle, but her sword had been taken from her and left in her own tent. It seemed like the world was going out of its way to make her bored today.

It felt like an eternity passed before Robb finally called the meeting to an end. Only Robb, Elira, Ryker and Merek stayed; all the others bowed and said their courtesies before exiting. Lyra, Matthew and Arwyn came into the tent with Gendry in tow. Arya held back her laughter when she saw Gendry; his hair was cut and whatever stubble of a beard he'd had was shaved off. He had been put into fancy clothes- a velvet doublet and thick woolen breeches, with knee-high leather boots- and he looked beyond uncomfortable.

"My king, my queen," Lyra said, falling to her knees. Matthew and Gendry followed suit. "This is Gendry Waters. He was another one of our companions on the way back from King's Landing. Princess Arya insisted on bringing him to camp with us."

"Rise," Robb demanded, and the three immediately obliged. "How did you meet my sister, Gendry?" He sounded was courteous and polite, but Arya noted the slight authoritative tone his voice took on. He is king now…he is in charge.

"We met on our way to Castle Black. She was just Arry the orphan boy back then," the blacksmith explained, keeping his gaze down. "I was working in a smithy in King's Landing, and one day, my master packed my bags and said I was to join the Night's Watch." He cleared his throat, then tacked on a quiet, "Your Grace".

"Did you know she was Arya Stark of Winterfell?" Elira asked, her fingers absentmindedly running through Arya's hair.

"I always knew she was a girl," Gendry replied, shrugging a little. "I wasn't as stupid as the rest of them, Your Grace. It's like none of them had seen girls before." Ryker chuckled at that from his place next to Robb.

Robb scrutinized Gendry, his eyes narrowing. Arya wanted to tell her brother to stop scaring her friend. Even though Gendry was bigger than her brother, Robb's presence was much more intimidating. She wondered if Robb would hurt him, or put him in a cage and keep him captive. She'd heard that that was what they did with the Kingslayer. She even heard from some of the guards that he wasn't half as pretty as he used to be; Arya found that hard to believe. She remembered him from his visit to Winterfell, all shining armor and flowing blonde locks. I don't fawn over him, though. That's Sansa's job. Her heart ached thinking of Sansa, who was trapped in the claws of the lions, while Arya was here with their family.

"Do you know who your parents were?" Robb questioned the blacksmith, his hands twitching at his sides. Arya felt as if the young king knew something that she did not. She looked up at Elira for reassurance, or perhaps a quick word, but her good-sister was intently watching Gendry.

"I don't know, Your Grace. I never met my father. And my mother died when I was very young." He shrugged again. "She had blonde hair…she'd sing to me. That's all I remember."

"That's alright," Elle assured him, her hands resting on Arya's shoulders. "I'm sorry for your loss." The blacksmith nodded his head sharply, his jaw clenched tightly.

Gendry licked his lips and took in a deep breath. "I spoke to your father, Your Grace." Robb and Elira visibly tensed at that. "He asked me about my parents, just as you had."

Arwyn stepped forward, a piece of parchment paper in her hands. "Gendry, would you read this and tell us what you know?" She held out the letter for him to take. Arya could feel the tension and suspense in the air; no one moved or breathed until Gendry reached out to grab the paper.

He scanned it quickly before handing it back to Arwyn. "I can't read, my lady." Arwyn blushed and took the letter back, her head down. Of course a blacksmith wouldn't know how to read… Arya wasn't sure if she should laugh or not; the situation had been so serious, and his tone was somehow comical.

"I'll explain the…predicament to Gendry, if you would like me to, Your Grace," Lyra offered, her hands casually on her hips. Arya admired the warrior woman; she was fierce, confident, and was great with a sword. Lyra had even promised her to help her with her weapons training.

"That would be appreciated, thank you, my lady," Robb responded, nodding. "All of you are free to leave. We shall speak again at supper." The tent cleared out immediately, and Arya was amazed by Robb's power. Gendry shot her a look over his shoulder and she tried to smile, wanting to reassure her friend.

Arya hadn't missed the sharp look Elira had given Arwyn. "How about I take you on a tour of the camp?" Arwyn suggested, kneeling down so she was at eye level with the princess. "It's quite a big place, so I don't suggest going around by yourself if you want to see it." The Frey girl offered her a smile, but Arya could tell that it was strained. Stark accepted the offer- it's not like she had much of a choice, really. No doubt if she refused, other methods of distraction would come up.

"I think I forgot something inside the tent," Arya fibbed, trying to keep a blank expression. Arwyn permitted her to go back to retrieve whatever it was she'd 'forgotten'. The young girl rushed back to Robb and Elira's tent, wanting to know what discussion she had left behind. She was careful to avoid stepping on the fallen leaves and small twigs. It was hard for her, though, because the temptation was so great; she always loved the sound of the crunching leaves under her feet. Syrio Forel's teachings echoed in her ears; quiet as a shadow.

She strained her ears to hear what they were saying, leaning as close to the tent's opening as she could without looking suspicious. She made out a few muffled voices, but it was hard for her to distinguish what they were saying. She took one more step forward, drawing in a sharp intake of breath in shock when she heard her brother's clear voice; "Gendry Waters is the son of King Robert Baratheon."