I own nothing

Great thanks to my Beta Urthona

The foul stench of urine, vomit and rotting wood, mixed with the rather pleasant smell of searing fat and fresh baked goods filled the air around Arya, her belly insistently remembering her that she hadn't had a proper meal in days. It was a great risk coming here, but one she was willing to take on her quest to find her Direwolf.

Arya seated herself in the corner of the inn, carefully avoiding the eyes of the other patrons. Frantically her eyes flickered back and forth between the tables, suspicion and paranoia working at the back of her brain. Nobody, however, paid attention to the gaunt, thin and rather small boy in the colours of House Stark, keeping to himself in the twilight of the day.

The last time she had been in this place, Joffrey had condemned her Direwolf to death, claiming he had been viciously attack by her. He had caused Mycah's death too, lying to the fat old King and Cersei. The memories of what had happened here turned Arya's empty stomach further, causing the wish in her to ride back to King's Landing and finish what she had started. It was not the first instance she regretted not making sure of Wormy's death when she had the chance. Not always, she wished she would have killed him, but the remorse of not doing so came often to her, especially in the cold nights.

"Here you go lad," The innkeeper placed a wooden mug in front of her, the ale inside spilling over the rim onto the table. Arya glanced up at the woman through her irregularly cut hair. It looked rediciulous, even to Arya, the front was long and the back short. - The woman however seemed not to care, flashing Arya a blood red smile. "Come on lad, I don't have time." The woman urged her, her smile disappearing in a rude grimace.

"I need something to eat and a bed for the night." Arya stated calmly, her eyes fixed on the woman's face, she would not be intimidated by her. Arya procured two Silver Stags out of her cloak and slid them over the table. The face of the Innkeeper lightened up immediately, her eyes staring at the coins greedily. "I will also need rations for the road tomorrow." Arya added another silver coin, shooting the woman a wolfish grin which unsettle her for a moment.

"Of course, milord" the innkeeper said, overly courteous. She bowed her head abruptly before clutching the coins from the table. "Anything else?" Arya shook her head and smiled lightly, while watching the woman scamper off. Arya had long ago learned, in the streets of King's Landing, how to deal with the commoners when outside the well protected walls she had spent her life within. With paying far more than necessary – she doubted a good meal would cost more than a few copper coins – Arya had secured both preferential treatment and peace for herself. The Innkeeper wouldn't throw her out or neglect her, hoping for more coins out of her pocket. For the same reason, she had paid the stable boy a Silver Stag as well, to take good care of Sunwarrior. Nonetheless, the diminishing amount of silver in her bag worried her, soon she would only have Gold Dragons left. It would be hard to pay with them in an inn like this.

Arya watched the Innkeeper ordering a younger girl around gesturing towards her, hopefully instructing her to bring food to the table. Arya finally remembered the name of the innkeeper, Masha, Masha Heddle. She had met her and her blood red teeth the last time. Back then she had told Arya how she had known her mother when she had been a child. The woman had been nice to Arya, and back then she hadn't been afraid of the teeth either, rather fascinated how chewing sourleaf could cause such an effect. She even had wanted to try it; it would have been fun to run around with blood coloured teeth.

The recollections let the memories of her mother boil up in Arya, her stomach turning bitter. She missed her mother, especially now. She was alone on the road, only accompanied by her mare and the dreams of her wolf. Arya could feel Nymeria to be close, she had lost her here, had scared her away to protect her, but she knew she was close, coming back here for her, soon she would find her, be reunited with her.

In the corner of her eyes Arya noticed a movement. The moment later a graciously filled plate was placed in front of her. The smell and sight of a big piece of ham, together with mushrooms, onions and half a loaf of bread made her mouth water. Arya had chewed berries and roots for the last days, only once able to buy bread and some hay for Sunwarrior from a farmer on her way. The plate in front of her looked like a feast.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking up at the brown haired girl the innkeeper had ordered around. She was tall and thin, a small chuckle escaping her after watching Arya expectantly. Her face formed a smile. "What?" Arya spat out, narrowing her eyes at her. What was wrong, had she forgotten something?

"Nothing." The girl smiled at her with a beam in her eyes. "A mannered noble born." She stated cheekily, her face showing a relaxed smile.

"Why do you think I am noble born?" Arya asked her before she had a chance to turn around and leave. The girl glanced down on her as if she had asked a very stupid question.

"Who else pays so graciously and travels alone? Merchants and Sellswords are too cheap to pay in silver." She explained to Arya lightly. "For mannered? You didn't grab my arse, this was nice, would have gotten you thrown out, no matter the silver. Who are you? A squire on an errand?"

"There are no knights in the North." Arya stated plainly, the words of the girl going through her head. The girl was maybe eighteen, Arya couldn't really tell with her, noblewoman were so different in appearance to commoners that it seemed they aged slower. The girl could be her age, or ten years her senior.

"What?" The girl asked her, confused, looking her up and down. Arya shot her a grin, moving her cloak to the side to reveal the crest of the Direwolf on her breast, trying not to wince by the pain the continuing use of the bindings around her breasts caused her.

"No knights, no squires. We worship the Old Gods." Arya stated somewhat proudly, seeing understanding in the girls face. She nodded.

"I am Jeyne, the innkeeper's niece. If you need something just call." Jayne said warmly, turning on her heels and left Arya to her meal, however she shot her another smile over the shoulder.

Arya turned back to her hot meal, confused by the smile. This happened rather often when she was disguised as a boy. She had not understood why until Ser Loras Tyrell had come to the capital and the ladies had collapsed at of him in rows, like stupid … whatever. Arya had thought giving the Knight of the Flowers teats would made him a fine-looking girl, and apparently that kind of man appealed to most women. Arya found it both stupid and odd, but as it seemed many girls saw a handsome boy in her disguise, especially because she never considerate herself beautiful. She was always Arya Horseface.

Shaking off these thoughts, she concentrated on her meal. She took the entire piece of ham and gnawed her teeth into it, the fat running down her chin. She had the notion never to have tasted something that good, the days of starvation a distant past for her at the moment. Her mouth filled, she took the mug of ale to wash everything down. She nearly spew it out again, forcing the liquid down her throat. She had ever tasted strong ale before and was not ready for the taste, but she had to keep up her demeanour, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

She continued eating, her belly filling much more quickly than she had expected. Arya slowed down slightly, using the peace in her corner to recall the events of the last week. With the sounds of the inn slowly blurring in the background Arya found herself shocked that it had only been a week since she had left King's Landing. It felt much longer.

She had been careful, using Sunwarrior's superior stamina and agility to get a head start over her pursuers, and she was sure there would be pursuers. They most likely made camp during the already quicker coming darkness of the evenings, though, while Arya had pressed on every day without as much as a pause. She also had been able to use small paths away from the road to make her way, successfully avoiding potential patrols searching for her. Nobody she had encountered on the road had stopped her so far, believing her a simple messenger of House Stark. In these times, in these parts of the Seven Kingdoms, nobody would dare to stop a man of the mighty stupid Regent.

She was not sure if her father would follow her personally, given his disinterest in her over the last month, she doubted it. He had gone searching for Sansa when she had tried to run, but he most likely no longer cared enough about his own kin to do so now, not with Cersei attached to him.

In the few moments of rest she had allowed herself and her dornish mare so far, Arya had always slept on the ground, wrapped in her cloak, which by now looked rather threadbare and shabby. The nights were getting colder and she was glad to be in the inn for the night, not to mention for the food. From here on, she could follow the Kingsroad farther north or go west over the river road. However, she decided it would be better to go to the Ruby Ford first and let herself be guided by her dreams to find Nymeria and then she could decide where to go.

The loud boom of the door bashed open startled Arya like a hunted animal, her hand instinct going to Needle at her side, before realising how futile and ludicrous it would be to attack her hunters. Dread built up in her for whoever would come through the door. Most likely her father's men had been faster than she had anticipated. But she could not attack them, she knew that, Wormy was one thing, but her father's men, never. They were Northerners like her, she could not spill their blood.

Relief flowed through her body, the tension disappearing when she saw only three men, clad in brown, coming through that door. The first was a young man with a silver embroidered doublet, the other two most likely his protectors, by the look of their leather armour. Arya recognised the crest of House Darry, a black plowman on a brown field. The Darrys owned these lands, but weren't a rich or powerful House at all. Her mother – the thought of her froze her chest again – had told her and her siblings once that the Darrys were not the most liked under the liegemen of her grandfather, only the Freys surpassed them in dislike and distrust.

The group seated themselves in the centre of the room, laughing and bawling loudly, making a scene for everyone and getting their attention. The young man boomed his fist on the table and bellowed loudly, "Ale! Ale for me and my men!" stirring up the innkeeper and Jeyne immediately, both of them eyeing the three with fear. By the speed they moved, Arya suspected the boy was rather important, otherwise they might have let him wait or called one of the men in the back Arya had gotten a glimpse of two men, most likely capable of quickly throwing unwanted costumers out in the mud.

Continuing eating, but with one eye carefully observing the group of men, Arya let her free hand run up and down Needle's hilt. She didn't like what she saw, the last thing she wanted was attention, and how long might it be until these stupid fools would be drunk and pick a fight. She had seen such in King's Landing, in the inns and that was during the day. She was sure, now, in the evening, it would be worse. Why did this always had to happen to her?

Jeyne brought them their mugs of ale, she carefully approached them with a distrust Arya found unsettling. Arya could see through the corner of her eye how uncomfortable the girl looked, her face tensed up. She placed the mugs on the table, retreating quickly as if burned, very different to her behaviour towards Arya. However she didn't make it far, the young man grabbed her arm and pulled her back to stand before him. He spoke to her while his hand was sliding over her hip onto her buttocks.

Arya stopped her meal, leaning back and watching what transpired with a dark expression forming on her face. She felt anger gurgling up in her, seeing how desperate Jayne looked being touched by the man. The comment of Jeyne earlier came back in Arya's mind, puzzling her now. She saw him pinching in her flesh saying something, causing a yelp that made his companions laugh out loud. Nobody in the room seemed to care, while the Darry boy's sinister smirk fixed on Jeyne, toying with her like a cat with its prey.

"Jeyne!" Arya called for the older girl, ramming her fist on the table in the fashion of the Darry man. She couldn't simply watch the display anymore, angry about what she saw, the behaviour of the men, their arrogance reminding her of Wormy. Yet, as well, she felt anger with Jeyne for not fighting them. She could have fend them off or her aunt could throw the stupid men out. But nobody acted. So if nobody wanted to intervene Arya would, no matter her wish to stay anonymous here. She felt pity and empathy for Jeyne.

With relief in her eyes, Jeyne quickly untangled herself from the young man most likely stammering an excuse by the looks of it and hurried over to Arya. The eyes of the group followed her falling on Arya, in her little corner, glaring at her in a way that promised nothing good. But Arya had no qualms with it, rather she felt challenged, a prospect that made her blood heat up in anticipation. She grinned at them wolfishly from under her hair, before turning her attention to Jeyne.

The girl arrived at her table with a thankful expression on her face, not to be subject of unwanted attention anymore, glancing fearfully over her shoulder from time to time nonetheless. She had her hands folded in front of her nervously and her body shuddered anxiously.

"I want you to go and check on my horse." Arya stated calmly, her eyes only shortly glancing at the girl before fixing the group of men with a dangerous expression. She moved one of her hands in her pocket purposely fishing out a Gold Dragon and holding it up between her fingers. "When you come back, send some water and another plate." Satisfied, she gazed up at Jeyne seeing her eyes widen by the sight of the coin. Arya saw the same startled expression on the men at the other table. And sadly most likely the rest of the room. Jeyne took the coin and whispered a quiet thanks before running off.

Arya turned back to her meal, her body tensed in preparation for what could come next. She had chosen the Gold Dragon hoping the men would understand that a boy able to waste gold was not a victim they would like to have. On the other hand a part of her wanted them to come over. She could break a few bones in their bodies, maybe dislocate their shoulders. Syrio's training had made her deadly enough to deal with such thugs. She knew it would be foolish, but most likely fun; she wanted the release. This part of her was rewarded when she felt three pairs of eyes on her. Arya ignored them purposely, leisurely dipping her bread in the gravy of the mushrooms and onions, her hand wandering down to her dagger; it would be easier to draw.

"And who are you, thinking you can deny me the wench?" The young man who stood in front of her table flanked by his companion asked arrogantly, reminding her of a Lannister. But it seemed he had not the means to justify his arrogance, so Arya continued to ignore him, trying to hide the grin forming on her face. That action seemed not to fair well with him. He spat, outraged: "Answer me! How dare you not to answer me?"

"And who are you?" Arya asked finally turning her face from her plate, feeling confident, despite the fact that she was a barely fifteen year old girl that had bludgeoned the future King of the Seven Kingdoms and was on the run, alone, without friends. A dark part of her had taken over, a part that had lingered very long in the shadows, a part that felt more prominent now that she was so close to her Nymeria.

"I am Lyman Darry, son and heir to Raymun, Lord of these lands. You should show me respect, you vagabond." He boasted with condescending spite. Arya now realised where his arrogance came from, but she was not impressed with the Lordling with his fulsome self-importance. She turned the upper half of her body to him, once again revealing the crest of the Direwolf, grinning wolfishly up at him.

"I am Arry." She stated, using the name she had used in King's Landing. "All you have to know is that I am in service of Lord Stark – you know – the Regent?"

"So Lord Stark s employing boys now. Are there no men in the North?" He insulted her after a moment of hesitation. Arya could see his mind working, doubtful how to deal with her. She had not wanted to use her father's name, still pained by his behaviour, but she had figured it would be easier. The facial expression in Lord Lyman's companions betrayed the uncertainty over their Lord's behaviour. However, with the words of the Lordling, Arya felt her anger boiling up further in her throat; she felt ready to spew it like fire, feeling personally insulted by his words. She wanted to break something. He was the son of the Lord here, though, so she thought better of it.

"The man of the North are fighting," Arya smirked up maliciously, feeling amusement by her idea, "And as it seems so are all the Darry men. Seeing you three in front of me."

"You little…" Lord Lyman shouted reaching out with her hands to grasp Arya. She was quicker though, her dagger was already out when the innkeeper screeched from behind him.

"Not here please!" She came up behind them fear written in her face. "Milord please, have another ale on the house." She begged, her eyes pleadingly hushing between Darry and Arya. Arya put down her dagger and turned back to her food, ignoring the young man again as if nothing had happened. The sigh she heard from the innkeeper signalled her that it was over and out of the corner of her eyes she observed her guiding the men back to their table. Arya saw Darry glaring at her disquietingly, but ignored it. She felt pleased with herself that she had been able to control her emotions, just like Syrio had taught her, asking herself if he would be proud of her now.

After finishing her meal, Arya got herself the direction to her room from a grateful looking Masha Heddle. Leaving the people behind, she made her way up a flight of wooden stairs. She sighed gladly, seeing an actual bed in the small room. She took off her cloak and belt letting herself fall on the smelly mattress. She did not care, enjoying to be warm and comfortable for a change.

She started to undo her doublet, wanting to be rid of the bindings around her chest when the unbolted door was opened quietly. Cursing herself for being ambushed in such a way she closed her doublet swiftly. Turning around she reached for a blade on her belt when she saw Jeyne standing in her room.

"What are you doing here?" She asked puzzled, stepping closer to her weapons, just in case. Jeyne looked at her tentatively but not frightened.

"I wanted to thank you." She spoke carefully, nearly stammering, her eyes looking a bit too uneasily for Arya. "Arry isn't it?" She looked up in Arya's face with a skittish smile.

Arya nodded perplexed, not sure what was all this about. Jeyne stepped closer to her, causing her to take a step back. In reaction, Jeyne, averted her eyes and walked over to the bed, sitting down. She started to fumble with her hair, which only puzzled Arya more, until she started to reach for the bindings of her gown.

"What are you doing?" Arya exhaled, disconcerted, her eye wide. "Stop that!"

"Don't you want me?" She asked, anxious again, gazing up at Arya with an expression she had never seen. She stammered out, "You paid a Gold Dragon, you paid for me."

"I wouldn't have had to if you had fought for yourself." Arya spat out, her brain still processing what she had heard, anger returning inside her, her Wolfblood starting to roar. "You could have stopped them too."

"He is the heir to Darry." Jeyne replied, distraught, starring at Arya with disbelief. "His father could dispossess us all out of a mood if I would have denied him. We all would starve. I am a commoner, I can't do anything against a noble." She averted her eyes again. "And now I am your commoner."

"No!" Arya felt disgusted, not simply by her words but also by her implications. How pathetic she was to let this happen. "Why would you think that?"

"The cook said I should come to you," Jeyne confessed, with tears welling in her eyes, and continued, "My aunt agreed."

"Then tell them to sod off!" Arya spat again, gesturing the girl to leave.

Jeyne stormed out of the room at her words, her face in a grimace Arya couldn't decipher, but it caused a hard pang of guilt hitting her deep in her heart. She let herself fall onto the bed – or what they sold her as one.

This should not have happened. Not this way.

Angry with herself, Arya balled her hand to a fist and hammered a strong blow against the wall behind her. Her face contorted into a painful, silent scream, pain radiating through her bones from the hand that had connected with the hard wood.

-##-

The next morning Arya left her room early after a very short night of sleep. The encounter with Jeyne had not left her head, nor did the anger. She was angry with Darry, but also with the innkeeper and even with Jeyne. However she couldn't take the risk of getting caught, so she had to leave all of this behind. She took the rations from Masha Heddle, not dignifying her with a second glance. She found Sunwarrior happy and ready in the stables, with Jeyne at her side. The girl bid her goodbye to Arya, looking a bit better than the night before. Something compelled Arya to slip her another golden coin. Jeyne looked like she would faint by the sight, stammering another thanks. She pressed a hurried kiss on Arya's cheek and ran off. When she was gone, Arya grimaced and rubbed her face where she had been kissed, shuddering before taking Sunwarrior to the Ruby Ford.

Arya reached the Ruby Ford quickly. Letting her mare browse, she dismounted, making her way closer to the water. It was there she had practised with Mycah, and where Joffrey had found them. Staring at her reflexion she remembered how Nymeria had attacked him, wishing her wolf had ended him right there. She remembered how she had taken his sword and threw it into the river while he had cried like a baby by his scratches.

Deep in her thoughts, she made the mistake not to pay attention to her surroundings, the loud neigh startling her. She turned hastily, hand on Needle, she found three horses waiting a few feet away from her: Lyman Darry and his men.

Arya took her stand, knowing she could not run, not willing to run. Her Wolfblood running hot in her again, ready to strike. Lyman grinned maliciously at her, dismounting his horse with self-confidence. He drew his sword and approached her with the blade on his shoulder.

"Did you enjoy the little whore, boy?" He taunted her, grinning, fairly sure of himself. Arya drew Needle, calming herself with a deep breath. "I hope she was worth it, seeing it was your last time." He stopped just short, out of her reach, smirking with deadly purpose. "You know, three of my uncles were killed here, by Robert and your Lord Stark, for defending their true King. It seems right to spill some northern blood here for your insult."

Arya did not reply, her face a hard mask of readiness. She observed her opponent carefully whereas he waited for her retort, growing increasingly agitated by her passive behaviour. Arya had no time to taunt him, knowing a false step, a small mistake, could very easily mean her end. She waited, seeing Lyman growing furious.

The moment felt like someone would have let a bowstring fly. With an angry cry, Lyman Darry stormed at Arya with his sword raised to swing down on her recklessly. To Arya, his attempt seemed amateurish. She stepped aside gracefully, letting him strike at nothing. She did not wait, her trained reflexes taking over. The Wolfblood in her cheering, she brought Needle's point between the young man's trousers and doublet, piercing his flesh. Arya put all her strength behind the single strike, her thin sword leaving the man's body on the other side.

He screamed in pain while Arya pulled her blade out of him. He collapsed on the ground, turning on his back with tears in his eyes. He held his stomach, his sword somewhere on the ground. Not thinking Arya stepped over him, her heel on his chest. She brought Needle down again the point going through his throat, piercing the artery.

Lyman Darry stared up at her with wide open eyes, his red water flowing out of his body bubbling, draining him. Arya's eyes were wide open as well, her body feeling stiff, frozen. She had killed him, she realised now. She had never killed before. There he was, the arrogant little piece of shit, dying with a pale face and tears in his eyes. Arya felt nothing, only a cold spreading in her, numbing her.

"Milord!" She only registered the scream from behind her in a blur, mechanically turning around to see both men on their horses charging her. She felt nothing, her reflexes raising Needle for a futile defence, her brain frozen in a pre-killing state.

She didn't notice the grey shadow coming out of the bushes. The charging horses reared up in panic throwing of their riders. The gigantic creature mauling one of the attacking men who tried to get back on his feet, before turning to the next one, biting his throat open as well.

The creature approached Arya standing still frozen over her victim. Familiar golden eyes looked in her grey, triggering tears to well up.

"Nymeria."

-##-

"Look at me!" the colourfully dressed character called out, laughing, throwing his little balls in the glow of the fire, starting to juggle. The little group around the fire started to cheer, another man began to join and they juggled together. All the while the leader eyed Arya his eyes clouded in deep thought, but his mouth was smiling cheerfully.

She had been on the road for ten days since she had found Nymeria, her and her two companions now traveling west to avoid the hunters, trying to put them off. They would suspect her to have crossed the Trident at the Ruby Fort and use the fastest way north: so she had chosen a different path. Arya planned to turn north soon, and then she would try to cross the Trident someplace safe, and then north. She had no idea what then. She thought about going to Jon, but her doubts about this decision were still crushing. However, she saw no other option right now.

Her rations had run out three days ago, forcing her to feast on the forest again, even with Nymeria hunting for her. Arya had risked approaching the little travelling group of mummers for the night, seeking their fire and food. She had paid them her last two Silver Stags. They had been willing to accommodate her for the night. Arya felt no fear from them, with Needle and Nymeria at her side she was sure the seven mummers, three women and four men would pose no threat to her.

"Where are you heading, young Ser?" The leader of the group, Halfdan, asked Arya while she watched the show mildly amused.

"There are no knights in the North." Arya answered reflexively, glancing over to him, seeing one of the woman preparing the food over his shoulder.

"Of course." Halfdan said making a grimace to humour her. He was, as much as everybody else, a silly light-hearted person who jested most of the short time Arya had known him. Each reminded her a bit of Lord Tyrion's jests and wittiness, but in an overwrought way.

"Where are you heading?" Arya asked out of curiosity, Nymeria moving between her feet, making the others at the fire nervous with her size. They, of course, had questions about her origin. All they knew, however, was that Arry, a liegeman of Lord Stark, was travelling on a mission with his wolf and was willing to pay.

"To the leaf feast of course," Halfdan roared out laughing. "There will be a great competition for mummers on the second day. We will just make it in time to prove Halfdan's mummery is the best, and earn ourselves three hundred Gold Dragons." He smiled proudly, looking around. Arya followed his gaze seeing anticipating faces. Halfdan turned his attention back to her. "Maybe, if you are headed in the same way we could travel together. Mummers can be seen with much suspicion, but a fine young man of the Regent's – long may he live – service would offer us some credibility, and you a warm fire and good food every day. And of course our illustrious company." He spread his arms welcomingly to include his people, they all smiled back at Arya. She saw the calculating gaze flashing under Halfdan's façade, he saw an opportunity to better his position in the world, maybe hoping to gain favour by making her life easier. Still, Arya was intrigued enough to give in.

"Where is this leaf feast then?" She asked, playing the scenario in her mind. Her hunters would ignore the mummers for certain, not thinking her able to travel with them. She would hide here, would have food, shelter, and if there was an ignominious plan behind their offer – an offer made by a colourful bunch of people Arya found interesting – she could always leave using Nymeria's strength as well as her own to overcome them. She would do it, she thought, until she had a clue where to go, or maybe as long as the gods needed to give her a new way out.

Halfdan answered her, "Casterly Rock of course."

So sorry

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