Epilogue

Ta-Dah! Here it is at last. This is for Shannon, who is a 'guest' so I can't contact her directly to thank her for the 30 odd reviews she posted to my stories. She pricked my conscience about this. It's also for Venessia and Eirenewbie, without whom I would never have seen Teen Wolf and gone off on this bloody Werewolf tangent in the first place! It's also for everyone else out there who cares enough to still be reading it!

"I don't know why you didn't invite him to the wedding in the first place. He did save you from that Lannister Clegane piece of shit."

"I know" Arya groaned, "But there's some…um…history between us that you don't know about."

Gendry slammed on the brakes.

"Did that fucker try it on with you?!"

"Dear God! Do you have to drive like that?"

"Just fucking answer me!"

"One minute you're getting on at me for not inviting him to our wedding and now you want to kill the guy."

"He did, didn't he? Fuck's sake! We were engaged at the time. I'm glad you told me before we go and see him."

"He didn't try it on." Arya hoped Gendry couldn't tell she was lying. "Anyway, we were on a break at the time." she added sullenly.

"Christ! You think life is an episode of friends? We weren't on a fucking break!"

"Just pull over please."

"What?! You're not getting out of the car! No way am I letting you get out of this car. You think you can just run away every time we have a Goddamn discussion?"

"Pull over or else I'm going to throw up in your bloody car!"

He screeched the Aston Martin to a halt. She had the door open before the wheels stopped turning. Sure enough, she was sick. Violently.

She was still retching in front of a gawking queue of bus passengers when she realised he was kneeling in front of her, holding her hair back and trying to avoid the vomit.

"Sorry babe. I didn't mean to lose my temper. It's just…imagining you with another man…it tears my heart out. And I promise I won't drive like that again."

They both knew it wasn't Jaqen he was referring to, but Arya wisely said nothing and just got on with the business of being sick.

When she was finished, he took his handkerchief from his top pocket and handed it to her to wipe her mouth. It was a while before she could speak.

"It's not your driving." She said miserably.

"Ah, I knew you shouldn't have eaten that cold pizza for breakfast."

"I wanted it at the time." Now the thought of it made her ill. She retched again. He took a step back, but thankfully there was no more to come up.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked gently. "We can do this another day."

"No." She wanted to do this. She did feel guilty about not inviting Jaqen to the wedding and she wanted to tell him their news, before he heard it from someone else. "I'll be ok. Just drive a bit slower and maybe we could stop and buy some breath mints."

Half an hour later they were almost at the Gallery of Black and White.

"Hey, isn't that the pub that we went to the night Jon kicked those city guy's arses? And look, that must be the doorway where we hid from the cops!"

Despite feeling like shit, her body thrilled at the memory, sending delicious shivers of anticipation down her spine. Her first taste of wolf sex and she hadn't looked back.

The looked across at each other and grinned, thinking the same thing.

"How about I give you a repeat performance tonight?"

Arya was just about to eagerly agree when she spotted a removal truck outside the gallery. To her shock, it was in the process of being loaded and the boxes were very definitely coming out of the gallery.

"I'll let you out and I'll go park." Gendry offered as he pulled in behind the truck.

The writing on the truck said "International Removers". Below were phone numbers for London and Braavos.

Arya jumped out of the car and hurried over to the gallery. She had to stand to the side as two men carried another box out of the black and white doors.

"Can you tell me where I can find Jaqen please?" She asked.

The nearest guy grunted "Who?"

"Jaqen H'ghar, the owner of the gallery."

The man looked at her blankly.

"Red and white hair?" she added helpfully.

"Nah, no idea. You'd better see the gaffer indoors."

She waited until they were out of the way and walked in. Most of walls were bare and packing crates littered the floor. The Gallery's distinctive smell of coffee, polish and Jaqen was almost gone, masked by a dozen other smells like sweat, dust and polystyrene.

A swarthy looking man with a clipboard stood near the counter in Jaqen's place.

"Hi." Arya flashed him what she hoped was a friendly 'you can tell me anything' type of smile. "I'm looking for Jaqen H'ghar."

His dark gaze raked her up and down. She would put up with his lecherous stares if he would answer her question and anyway, Gendry would be here soon. The guy wouldn't be so free with his wandering eyes once he saw the size of her man.

"Never heard of him." He snapped in a Braavosi accent.

She hadn't expected that answer. "But he's the owner of…all this." She waved her arm around the almost empty gallery.

The guy shrugged and rubbed his finger along the side of his prominent, hooked nose. "Look lady, we get our orders from head office and we do our job. Nobody's shown up since we started and we'll be finished in a few more hours."

"But I used to work here and he never told me he was moving." As Arya tried to explain, she realised she had never told Jaqen she wouldn't be back to work either. She had been too wrapped up in the wedding. If she was being honest with herself, she hadn't contacted him because she still felt awkward about that night in Harrenhal. Awkward and perhaps a little scared. She was the big, bad wolf, and shouldn't be scared of any man, but even wolves know when to be wary and mystical things she didn't understand made her very wary indeed.

The guy's attention was back on his bloody clipboard. That wouldn't do.

"Can you at least tell me where you're taking the paintings and who's instructed the removal?"

The guy looked unwilling to part with the secrets of the clipboard.

"Please?" she pouted, putting her hand on her hip and sticking out her chest a bit more, hoping Gendry didn't choose this moment to walk in the door.

"Give me your number. I'll call you if I find out" he suggested with a wicked gleam in his eye, his wide smile revealing a gleaming gold tooth. Yuk.

The means justifies the end she told herself as she made herself return his smile, biting her bottom lip for extra effect. "Sure, I'll give you my number if you can tell me what I want to know." She purred.

He eagerly flipped back a few pages on his instructions.

"I've got an exacting list. Every item is to be accounted for, down to 'a pair of matching black espresso cups'." Arya had to smile. Jaqen loved his espresso. "All to be delivered to a warehouse in Braavos. The invoice is addressed to a company called 'Valyria'."

She remembered Loras' warning when he had tried to investigate Jaqen and the gallery. He told her he'd never seen anything like it. She had imagined a wasp's nest of interdependent corporations. Since Harrenhal, she had known that Jaqen was no ordinary man. She should have known this was no ordinary gallery.

"No mention of Jaqen H'ghar anywhere?"

He pursed his lips, most likely thinking she was looking for an old boyfriend. "Might be his signature here." The man admitted, reluctantly.

Arya craned her neck to look at the signature at the foot of the inventory. She recognised Jaqen's looping, artistic signature.

"That's him" she said lightly, and then pressed for more, "How long ago did he arrange this?"

The swarthy man scanned his clipboard. As he read out the date Arya felt as if fate was dragging an icy finger down her spine. That was the date she had started working for Jaqen. She remembered sitting with him signing her contract and loads of other stuff. She must have written that date a dozen times. The very same day she started working here; Jaqen had instructed the removal for three months time. It couldn't be coincidence. And now, somehow, she was here when everything was being packed up. It had to mean something.

"There's something I'd like to go and get."

Mr Clipboard narrowed his eyes.

"It's just an old cassette tape of mine; I left it in the stereo upstairs."

"Now why would a young thing like you have an old thing like that?"

She shrugged coyly and smiled sweetly. He consulted his clipboard.

"No mention of any tapes. Go ahead."

She started walking towards the stairs.

"Hey Miss!" She stopped on the bottom stair and turned slightly towards him, making sure he couldn't see her belatedly stick her left hand with her wedding ring and diamond engagement ring into her pocket. "You were going to give me your number."

"Of course!" she giggled and reeled off a random stream of numbers that he carefully noted down. Then she ran up the stairs. She wanted to get out of here before he tried to call her.

The desk and the Apple Macbook were gone. The old stereo sat on the floor and the only other thing still in the room was the black couch where she'd waited for Gendry on the night of the full moon.

She knelt down at the stereo and pressed 'eject'. Lyanna's tape was still there, as she somehow knew it would be. As she slipped it into her bag, she wondered if Jaqen had ever listened to it.

There was still no sign of Gendry and she didn't fancy going downstairs to face Mr Clipboard again, so she sat down on the couch. She would have liked to have put the tape on, lie back and think of Lyanna, but that was hardly possible. Instead, she tilted her head back and looked up at the skylight. It had been repaired and there was neither starlight nor full moon now; no sign at all that a huge, black Werewolf had come crashing through it to claim her.

Right on cue, she heard the low rumble of his voice downstairs and then his heavy footsteps on the stairs. She closed her eyes and savoured his smell; hot, male, wolf and home.

She felt the couch shift under her; his heat then his breath feathering her neck. When she opened her eyes he had one knee on the black leather as he knelt above her. His blue eyes were dark with desire and his mouth was just above hers. "I love you" he whispered against her lips. She automatically moistened hers with her tongue. He wasn't going to resist and kissed her softly, seductively, sliding his tongue against hers. She felt deliciously aroused as he worked his mouth down her throat, caressing her with his rough, wolf tongue, pushing up her T-shirt and trailing kisses over her stomach.

"My child" he murmured as he feather kisses all over her, still flat, belly.

"Our wolf cub" she whispered back. He paused and she could tell he was grinning.

He wanted to pull her jeans down and take her right there. The memory of that night, of biting her, of having her here again with his baby in her belly inflamed him. The fact that they were in Jaqen's territory, thrilled him even more. Her little gasps of pleasure encouraged him on. He had the first button of her jeans undone, and pressed his nose against her soft, sweet skin, trying to drink in the scent of the womb that carried their child; his to protect and defend, as she was his to love and pleasure.

She arched her back, pushing up against him as he licked and pressed hot, urgent kisses lower and lower.

"Hey! Is everything ok up there? You said one tape!" Mr Clipboard yelled from downstairs.

"You'd better stop." She whispered. He ignored her. "I want you to stop." She said more forcefully.

"Liar!" he murmured, blowing against her soft, moist skin, teasing her.

With a great effort of will, she hissed and pushed his shoulders back, panting with the effort of having to refuse him. He was panting too, eyes gleaming orange and his mouth twisted in a wicked grin.

"Your eyes!" She warned with ragged breath. They were glowing orange with wolfish lust.

"Yours too" he growled, loving that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, trying to kiss her again.

"He'll catch us."

"Let him!" He bent his head down to her lips, but she rolled off the couch and out from under him, immediately pulling down her T shirt and fastening her jeans.

He sat up and blew out a long, frustrated sigh.

Arya looked back at him over her shoulder, through a curtain of hair and whispered "Laters baby."

He was immediately on his feet, hands on her hips, pulling her to him, "I love it when you talk 50 shades to me, does that mean I get to tie you up tonight?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, but I might do it to you" she purred, deliberately yanking on his tie, pulling his face down to hers and sliding her tongue into his mouth again. He responded immediately, urgently, pressing his hips into hers, only to have her pull away and leave him standing there with a ranging hard-on while she stalked down the stairs, deliberately swaying her arse at him. Damn but he loved that arse.

He was married to a she-wolf who teased him mercilessly and had him wrapped around her little finger, but he wouldn't have it any other way. God help him if he ever had a daughter like her. Between the two of them, he would have never have any peace.

Arya was trying to ignore the lascivious looks of the clipboard guy and leave, when she caught sight of one painting still hanging on the wall. Could it be her soldier?

She stopped dead, heart hammering in her chest.

"Why haven't you packed this one?" she asked warily, not wanting to let him see how much she wanted this.

"It's not on the list" he muttered - obviously reason enough for him.

"I'll buy right now."

"You can have it." He shrugged. "I have strict instructions only to take what's on the list."

Her soldier's enigmatic blue eyes seemed to be laughing at her, the corners of his mouth upturned slightly at the edges. Had she never noticed that before?

The painting wasn't large or awkward and she immediately lifted it off the wall, fearing Mr Clipboard would change his mind. As she slid her hands down the sides of the frame, trying to get a comfortable hold on it, her right hand brushed against something loose. She carefully set the frame on the floor and looked at the back of the painting. There was a small envelope taped on the back with her name written in Jaqen's looping hand.

Arya carefully tugged it free. There was something in the envelope. It was sealed and she carefully slid her finger into the little gap at the top corner and worked it open. She had expected a note, but there was only a small, slightly battered, iron coin. After folding the envelope carefully and putting it in her back pocket, she held the coin in her palm, inspecting it carefully. She was puzzled. Why had he left her this?

Suddenly the man from Braavos was by her side, his hand over hers, closing her fingers tight around the coin. If you ever need the man you seek, take this coin to Braavos and speak the words "Valar…"

"…Morghulis" she finished automatically. Gendry's tattoo.

"Yes." He hissed, seeming very pleased with her and flashing that awful gold tooth again.

As he clasped his hand over hers, closing her fingers over the coin, an understanding had passed between them, as it had between her and Jaqen in Harrenhal. He knew Jaqen and he was part of this whole set up, she was sure of it. She felt that icy finger of fate tracing down her spine again and shivered although it was warm. She wasn't going to ask, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, but she wasn't going to give the coin back either. Jaqen had meant for her to have it for some reason. He had saved her life once and she wasn't going to refuse his gift now. Arya pushed the coin deep into the pocket of her jeans.

They both looked up as Gendry came down the stairs, watching them quizzically.

"I was just picking up this painting Jaqen left for me."

The Braavosi man gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head in confirmation.

Gendry smiled as he walked over to them, recognising the Confederate angel soldier. "This guy's eyes always reminded me of Renly."

The man with the golden tooth went back to his clipboard, leaving them both to stand quietly for a moment, looking at the soldier and thinking of Renly.

"I'll carry him" Gendry said finally, picking up the painting. She let him lead the way with the painting under his arm. She was almost out of the door when the Braavosi shouted after her "Arya!" She stopped and turned. He winked. "Congratulations."

She was rather taken aback, as she didn't think she was showing yet, but she managed to give him a hasty 'thanks', before following Gendry out into the sunlight.

It was a few days later when she realised she had never told him her name.

-o-

7 ½ months later…

"Ahh, the head is engaged!" the Doctor declared triumphantly as he carefully felt around Arya's bump.

Arya felt a sudden surge of panic. Baby had been safe and warm inside her for nearly nine months and life had continued as normal, but now…now their baby was getting ready to meet them and soon everything was going to change.

"So, what should we do?" Gendry was very fond of saying 'we' when he had actually done very little since the very enthusiastic and very successful impregnation on the battlements of Winterfell nearly nine months before.

Arya rolled her eyes. He wanted a manual; preferably with diagrams and lots of little arrows, like one of his motorcycle maintenance books, or failing that, a spread sheet, or a flow chart. What Gendry didn't want was the doctor saying "Oh, just carry on as normal and come back in when you're in labour Arya."

"But…!" Gendry started to protest, until she drew him a look that said 'Just shut up!"

He shut up, looking frustrated. If it was to do with the pregnancy, Arya had the final word, or in this case look.

"Yes Doctor, I'll call in when my water break then." She said sweetly.

"Call in!" Gendry spluttered. "We'll have the helicopter on standby and we'll be here within 30 minutes of anything breaking anywhere!"

The Doctor sighed, trying rather unsuccessfully, to sympathise with Gendry's obvious anxiety, "There will be no need to panic. First babies are notoriously slow to make an appearance. I would save the helicopter for number 2, or maybe even number 3."

At least that pleased and distracted Gendry. Number 1 hadn't even arrived yet and he was already planning the next.

Danni and Jon's baby girl – Lyanna, had arrived six weeks earlier. Gendry had gone to visit Lyanna everyday while Danni was in Maesters Hospital, but now the new Targaryen family were back at Storm's End, Gendry had been taking a helicopter to work in London and back home to Storm's End every night so he could see Lyanna, when he would normally have stayed in London. Arya had no doubt he would be even worse when their own baby arrived. She imagined it would be difficult to get him to leave Storm's End at all when that happened. The planning application for a permanent helipad at Storm's End had already been submitted, so he could waste as little time as possible on the commute. She had no doubt a helicopter pilot's licence would be next. Boys and their toys.

Still, Arya had to admit Lyanna Targaryen was a cutie. When she had been born, she had a shock of dark hair and dark grey eyes like Jon, but with every passing day, her eyes had lightened until they were now Targaryen lilac and that first dark hair had now disappeared, to be replaced by a peach fuzz of white blonde. Arya presumed that the old wife's tale that every baby looked like their father must be true.

She found herself looking more often at the portraits of the generations of Baratheons that lined the staircase of Storm's End, imagining Gendry's portrait there and, someday her son's, for she had no doubt she was carrying a boy. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. She sometimes wondered if she just assumed her first would be a boy because in Harrenhal Jaqen had shown her a boy in Gendry's arms. She hadn't seen her baby's face clearly in that dream, or whatever it was, but she imagined she could see her son when she looked at all those Baratheon portraits. When she stood before them and closed her eyes, she daydreamed of a black haired, blue eyed Baratheon boy.

-o-

Exactly 9 months after their wedding…

"Lyanna and her mum and dad are waiting outside. They're desperate to see you both." Gendry smiled down at his beautiful baby boy, eyes closed, sucking contentedly on Arya's fat nipple, his little fist already settled proprietarily on Arya's breast. "Do you want me to tell them to wait until he's finished?"

"I hardly think Danni will mind – do you?"

"No, but Jon might."

"It's nothing he hasn't seen before."

Gendry arched an eyebrow quizzically.

"I mean Daenerys is breast feeding too. I've seen the back of Lyanna's head more often than I've seen her face. Any anyway, I'm sure Jon won't even notice. Daenerys' tits are way bigger than mine.

"Hmmm, I don't know anymore…" Gendry mused, trying to look deadly serious, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Arya threw a rolled up baby sock at him which fell woefully short. Little Jon gave a soft moan of annoyance as his milk source shifted under him. He pushed his little fist a bit harder into her breast.

Arya and Gendry both looked down at their little boy.

"He's gorgeous isn't he?" Gendry sighed.

"Just like his daddy. And he's greedy like you too." Arya laughed

"Us Baratheon men know what we like and we know we like your breasts" he teased, before leaning over and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We like them a lot" he whispered, looking wistfully down at his son sucking on a mouthful of perfect, fat nipple.

"Let's introduce Lyanna to our son before you start telling me you're hungry too."

"Sure" Gendry agreed, but he had to drag himself away from his wife and child to fetch the three other people he loved most in the world, apart from his own little family.

As Gendry held the door open, he declared proudly "May I present my son…Jon Baratheon!"

Daenerys, holding little Lyanna in her arms, bustled straight into the room, but Jon stopped dead at the threshold. "You called him after me?" Jon gasped, his voice little more than a whisper, cracking with emotion.

Gendry clasped him on the back and pulled him in for a man-hug, which Jon immediately returned.

"You think we would have called him after anyone else mate? You saved Arya's life and you saved mine."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck." Gendry agreed, nodding his head sagely. "Look, if anything happens to me I want you to…you know…take care of them for me." Gendry muttered against Jon's ear, his arms still clasped around his mate's shoulders.

"Same here bro."

The oath sworn, the two of them suddenly broke apart, quickly turning away from each other, stuffing their hands in pockets, both obviously choked with emotion and not sure how to deal with it. Jon coughed to clear his throat. Gendry sniffed. Neither one could look at the other.

Arya and Daenerys looked from them to each other and rolled their eyes. Men.

"You look wonderful Arya. Ow was zee birth?" Daenerys asked as she started removing Lyanna's perfect little designer coat.

Arya looked at Daenerys, who was the epitome of French chic, even with a two month old baby in her arms. Not a hair was out of place and there was not a hint of baby sick anywhere on the fitted black dress that clung to every voluptuous curve. A quilted, Gucci changing back was slung nonchalantly over her shoulder. Trust Danni to have a designer changing bag. Arya groaned inwardly. Daenerys had been back in her high heels and body-con dresses when she brought Lyanna home from hospital. Before she'd seen how Daenerys did it, Arya had imagined she would spend a few months slobbing around in jogging bottoms and a vest. No way could she do that now. Sometimes it was crap having a drop dead gorgeous, French sister-in-law, who also happened to have an iron will. It was certainly a lot to live up to.

So Arya lied. "Yeah, the birth was fine."

Gendry drew her a 'what-the-fuck' look. She chose to ignore him. She would tell Daenerys all about the twenty four hours in labour and how her son was the biggest baby born in the hospital for years another time, but she didn't want to have to relive all the gory details right now.

"Can I 'av a 'old of your big boy?" Daenerys demanded, in turn thrusting a surprised Lyanna towards Arya.

You just didn't say no to Daenerys.

"Sure." Arya pulled baby Jon off her breast. He was sucking so hard he came off with an audible 'pop'. His little face scrunched up in annoyance at his meal being interrupted.

"Oh mon Dieu! 'ee looks just like 'ees father when 'ee is angry!" Daenerys threw back her head and laughed, white blond hair tumbling around her shoulders. Arya thought of her own hair, pilled up on top of her head in a scrunchie and sighed.

As the mothers swapped babies, Gendry announced "Lyanna Targaryen, meet your future husband Jon Baratheon!"

"Gendry!" Daenerys and Arya shouted in unison. Jon just laughed.

"What?" Lord Baratheon yelped, pretending to be wounded by the girls disapproving looks "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it!"

"Of course we 'av" Daenerys admitted to Arya's surprise, "but you cannot force zees things. They will marry oo they want."

"I wouldn't mind. He's a handsome boy" Jon chuckled, stroking his little name sake's chubby cheek. "Looks just like a Stark!"

It was obvious to anyone that, with his shock of black hair and beautiful blue eyes, he was his Daddy's spitting image, but that didn't stop Gendry spluttering "Stark?! Look at that hair! He's a Baratheon through and throu…" he trailed off as he finally realised Jon had been joking and the other three were laughing at him.

"Don't worry dear. We all know he's yours, but honestly, if I hadn't given birth to him myself, I wouldn't know he was mine." Arya teased. It was true. Her little Stag didn't seem to have any Stark features. Maybe his toes, she thought. As hers were much nicer than Gendry's, she was quite happy about that.

"Let's hope he's got your personality, brains, manners, legs, sense of humour…" Jon started listing Arya's many excellent qualities

"Ok, ok!" Gendry interrupted, getting the message. "He's half Stark too. What about little Lyanna? Who do you think she takes after?"

All eyes turned to the little girl in Arya's arms, staring back at them with enquiring Lilac eyes. Although she was two months older, she didn't look any bigger than her new born friend, in fact she looked much more delicate. Already she had long, graceful Stark fingers, while baby Jon's clenched fists looked like little war hammers.

"She's as beautiful as her mother." Jon said, his awe at his two girls entirely obvious to everyone.

"And she 'as zee lovely nature of 'er daddy." Danni replied. The scorching glance that passed between Jon and Danni could have started a fire. Arya was delighted they had found each other and that Jon finally had the family that he had wanted all his life. Their pack was strong and this only made it stronger. They all felt it. Family and pack was everything.

Their reverie was broken by some urgent whimpers from little Jon. His mouth was open and his eyes closed, as he tried to move his head in search of that elusive milk supply. Daenerys dress was very low cut, exposing a vast expanse of soft, golden breast, full to bursting with milk. Only a few hours old and he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it Gendry thought proudly.

"Do you mind?" Daenerys asked, as she tugged down her dress, without waiting for a reply. "Of course not" Arya answered anyway.

Gendry wasn't really paying much attention until Daenerys deftly popped out one of the largest breasts he had ever seen, the nipple ripe and swollen. His son was latched on in a heartbeat. Gendry had to look away for fear he'd be caught gawking. No baby need ever go hungry with Danni around.

"Err, is that ok – feeding each other's babies?" Gendry asked, feeling distinctly awkward.

You could have knocked Gendry over with a feather when the answer came from Jon. "Of course it is! Have you never heard of a 'wet nurse'? I had one myself apparently, after… you know…Lyanna died."

Daenerys frowned at him. "I do not like it when you say zat Jon. There eeze another Lyanna now. You must start referring to zee first one as 'maman'."

"Mother" Jon echoed slowly, rolling the word around his mouth as if it was an alien, newly discovered thing. Perhaps it was.

The two new mothers exchanged soft, knowing glances. They both loved him so much and becoming mothers had brought the significance of family and pack into sharper focus.

"We must celebrate!" Danni declared, deliberately trying to lighten the mood. "I 'ave champagne! And orange juice for us Arya" she winked.

Jon retrieved the chilled champagne and a small bottle of orange juice from Danni's designer changing bag. They had to make do with plastic, hospital cups as even Danni hadn't been able to fit champagne flutes plus the bottles into a changing bag.

"A toast to the future!" Big Jon declared

"To the future!" all four of them cheered. Little Jon and Lyanna weren't left out, having a milky toast of their own.

THE END (again)

So, that's it. They're all going to live happily ever after.

I have to admit that, after all this time, I'm not quite ready to leave these characters. I did wonder what would happen to Lyanna and Jon in the future. So I wrote another story - "Happy 18th Birthday Jon Baratheon". Only problem is I wrote it long hand, ON PAPER while on holiday in the summer. So it needs to be typed up and I'm a busy Lady3jane.

When it finally sees the light of day, it will be a bit of fun. Everyone is invited to Jon's party except Aegon (eighteen years later and Big Daddy Gendry still can't stand hearing his songs on the radio). But young Lyanna Targaryen has Uncle Aegon twisted around her little finger. She arrives at Storm's End a week early and suggests to Jon that he should have the mighty Fire & Blood play at his birthday party. Will he be able to resist? Old secrets are revealed and old friends are reunited as Jon and Lyanna fall hopelessly in love. Watch out for that…sometime.

Meanwhile, I've been busy writing a new story. It's a (sharp intake of breath) ROMANCE, set in King's Landing after the war is won, so it's AU, or perhaps 'Futurefic' would be more apt. Here's an extract from chapter 2 of "The Reluctant Bride" for your entertainment. Our hero isn't called Gendry in this excerpt (and to find out why you need to read the whole story!), but it's him alright…

He was still removing his chain mail hauberk and gloves as he strode through the covered walkways that led from the stables to the heart of The Red Keep. His destination was Jon's solar, where the morning council was invariably held. It was yet half way to noon and he had no doubt he would find his friends still deep in their strategic planning.

The route was familiar enough, but he never paid much attention to what went on in the castle that did not directly affect him. Let Sam, Jon and Aegon worry about running this place, he had his own castle to run and the longer he lingered here, the more anxious he became to ride to the Stormlands and claim what was his. But he could not leave yet. There were still matters to be settled before he could turn his back on King's Landing; duties to be performed and a wife to be won. Once he had fulfilled his obligations and had his wife by his side, he did not intend to return here unless he was forcibly dragged behind a team of wild horses. Let them come to Storm's End.

As he strode along a high walkway, he heard familiar noises below. The grunts of effort he recognised from years of training, but there was not the usual accompanying clang of steel when swords met, or even the hard clap of wood against wood if practice swords were used. He stopped to listen.

There were swords at play all right; he would recognise the noise of steel slicing through air anywhere, but this 'whoosh' and sharp, high ring of metal against metal was new. Intrigued, he decided he needed to see what was afoot below. Let the strategic council wait. If he dallied a few minutes, indulged his interest in all things martial, it would hardly matter. He walked to the edge of the balcony intent on discovering the source of the noise.

He looked down on an open square, flooded with morning sunlight, where two combatants were engaged in a fast game of thrust and parry. The blades they used were mere toys; slim, tapered and so thin that they bent upon contact rather than inflicting a hard lesson as they should. He had never seen such swords and was immediately keen to know of their history, the secrets of their construction and why, by The Gods, anyone had a use for such a…such a… useless blade.

The man he could see was dark skinned, sweating and vaguely familiar; one of Aegon's Golden Company perhaps? He tended to avoid mixing with those pirates as much as he could, but their paths had probably crossed at some point. He had no idea of the man's name, but was fairly certain he hailed from Bravvos or one of the other free cities. Whatever his name, he was clearly no match for his more skilled opponent.

They fought side on, not face to face and toe to toe in the way he was used to. He had never seen such a style before - or had he? Had she not told him once to face his opponent side on to present a smaller target? He snorted with derision. His size had intimidated many an opponent in the field. Better to let them see the full size and strength of him, for then he would see the fear in their eyes. When he saw that fear, even if it was before he'd swung his sword, he knew he had already won.

As he watched, the sweating man was pushed farther and farther back across the yard, drawing the certain victor out into the open. There was ample opportunity to study the superior swordsman and his technique as he advanced on and on into the centre of the square. He was tall and slim and although each man was dressed similarly in boiled leather, the man he could only now see cut a much more athletic figure. His every movement was sharp, precise, powerful and relentless, but this was no sword play Weyland had witnessed before. The aim did not seem to be to disarm and defeat your opponent, but rather to score points and to showcase your skill and technique. The swordsman coming into view was undoubtedly a Master.

It was obvious with every lunge and thrust that he was witnessing years and years of training. The sword flowed with this warrior and every movement was perfectly controlled, balanced and full of lethal grace.

Weyland imagined he was watching a performance or a dance, rather than training which had the sole aim of saving your life on the battlefield. In his own training he had only ever been concerned with disarming and defeating his opponent as quickly and as ruthlessly as possible. The difference between living and dying lay in your speed and strength and Weyland had both in abundance.

He turned his attention from the style of fighting to the fighters themselves. The sweating man was a decent enough sword, but clearly outmatched as he was forced to retreat further and further back. The morning was still cool and yet he was drenched in sweat and almost on the verge of yielding. The grunting Weyland had heard earlier was coming solely from this sweating man, while The Master made barely a sound. The hair at the base of the almost-victor's neck was damp and his skin glistened in the morning light, but beyond that, there were no signs of exertion or strain. His movements remained calm, unforced and each target was claimed with pin-point accuracy.

As he watched with increasing fascination, Weyland's attention was caught by the suppleness of an exposed wrist and the grace of a gently curved thigh. His heart missed a beat. There was a perfection of form and sensuality about this warrior no man could match. After all those years, he had almost failed to recognise her.

He had not expected her to be as tall, but the hair was the same; dark and unruly like Jon's. The sudden realisation that he watched Arya Stark made him jerk back into the shadows, his heart hammering in his chest. It was her, returned from the dead.

Brienne of Tarth had made good her promise, but what if Arya realised he watched? What if she looked up and their eyes met? Would she smile and welcome him as an old friend? Or would she see him and curse him for abandoning her to The Hound? He cursed himself now for a coward, but he needed to speak to Jon, needed to see how it was with her before he made his approach.

Without risking another look, he strode towards Jon's Solar, only this time with a far greater sense of urgency.

I hope you liked that and it made you want to read more. The first chapter is up now and it's gonna be coming at you every Friday. Sound familiar?!