Hello everyone,

Arya is back! Are you excited? I'm excited.
Also, I think the dream today is super interesting!
As always, thank you for your lovely reviews, your follows and your favourites ;).

Enjoy!

Chapter LVIII: The She-Wolf of the North

The first thing he noticed when he set foot on the ground – or rather the swamp since they were in the Neck – was the girl standing next to lord Stannis. Her hair was half up and dirty. Her face had lost the chubby features of childhood and her gaze had become hard. She stood straight, her hands behind her back, yet she only arrived at Stannis' chest level. She was still small. She was still Arya Stark. Only a different Arya Stark, he felt like.

Robb walked fast toward his little sister, Daeron trailed behind him after whispering to Rhoynax that she could fly back into the sky. Robb completely ignored their surroundings, he took Arya in his arms as he had rarely done before. While the siblings reunited, Daeron greeted Lord Stannis.

"House Frey is no more?" He asked for confirmation.

"A few women and children." Stannis noted.

"How?" Daeron inquired. For an answer, Stannis nodded in Arya's direction. Daeron's brows shot up, he was incredulous. Stannis Baratheon shrugged, a rare occurrence that indicated he probably did not have more information than that.

Finally, Robb let go of Arya. Daeron stood in front of her for a moment, detailing her. She had dark circles under her eyes and she wore men's clothes, riding ones that looked well made. Now that he was closer, he realised the hairstyle she did was one Lady Catelyn wore often in the past, though she had much shorter hair.

She jumped into his arms suddenly. He held her up before setting her down and backing away a little to look at her. They both had smiles on their face. "Where were you before?" He asked her.

"Here and there." She replied. "It's a long story." She added.

He patted her shoulder. "You're going to tell us everything." He turned to Lord Stannis. "Can we set come here?" The older lord nodded. Down the line, the order was repercussed. Both Robb and Daeron put their arm around Arya's shoulder. They walked toward the edge of what would be the camp to have some privacy.

Along the way, many 'your Grace' were whispered. Daeron had grown use to those. It was only when a man said 'the King in the North' that Daeron realised it was not him they were bowing to. These Northern Lords had been stuck in the events of two years ago, Robb was still their King in their minds. Apparently, Robb had had the same trail of thoughts as him because he looked anxiously at his cousin. After a few more meters, he let go of Arya. "I'm sorry Arya, I just have to address something quickly." The Lord of Winterfell told the girl who did not seem to care and just shrugged. "Lords of the North!" Robb shouted with a confidence Daeron thought he had long lost. "I am not your King anymore, I bent the knee to my cousin, Daeron of House Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar. He was the one who freed my sister Sansa and me when we were prisoners in the capital! He freed Winterfell with the help of the Northerners, House Baratheon and House Velaryon! He is our rightful King." Daeron was proud of his cousin, he had come such a long way since Daeron had found him destroyed in the Black Cells.

"He's the grandson of the Mad King!" Daeron thought he recognized Alysanne Mormont shouting.

"Aye." Several lords nodded their approval of her statement.

"He left us alone!" The young Lord Hornwood added. Daeron cringed a little. Now that he had Arianne and Aemon, more than ever he thought he had no other choice but to leave the Northern camp in the middle of the War of Five Kings.

"I pushed him away." Robb took responsibility. "I made many mistakes. I cannot promise you that I will make no more, but I can promise you, as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, that under Daeron Targaryen our kingdom will thrive. He is the King you need, not me." Daeron was not sure the speech convinced the Northern Lords. It would be enough for the moment though, they needed to talk to Arya.

The young girl had a sceptical look on her fate when they settled down. "So you really go by Daeron Targaryen now?" She asked.

"I don't go by Arya, it is the name my mother gave me." He corrected. He did not know if he should be offended by her comment. He decided not to be since he had only just reunited with her. She frowned momentarily. "What happened to you Arya?" He focused the discussion on the matter at hand.

"Everything?" She inquired to which the boys nodded. "Well, when Father was arrested, I lived in the streets of King's Landing for a few weeks. I was there when they executed him, but a man of the Night's Watch forced me not to watch. He cut my hair, told me that I was now a boy and that he would take me to Winterfell on the way North. I met Gendry and Hot Pie there. Gendry's with us now, but Hot Pie stayed at an inn. He's a baker there." Daeron looked at Robb who had an amused expression on his face but just shrugged at him. "We started traveling through the Riverlands but we were attacked by the Mountain's men. The brothers of the Night's Watch were killed and my friends and I were made prisoners." The boys gasped. "I saved three men's lives that night and later, when we were brought to Harrenhall, one of the men I saved told me I could give him three names of people I wanted dead. I used it to escape a few months later. Soon after we were made prisoners, Lord Tywin arrived. He put us to work. I was his cupbearer." She precises.

"His cupbearer?" Daeron could not believe Tywin Lannister had had Arya Stark right under his nose for moons and not noticed.

Arya nodded before continuing. "We escaped but we were soon recaptured by the Brotherhood without Banners. They are strange men who believe in a god of light and commit crimes in the name of justice. I wanted to leave but they promised they would take me to Riverrun where you were. We ran into the Hound, but they set him free. A short while later a red priestess working for that man," she spat pointing at Stannis in the distance, "came to deal with the Brotherhood."

"Melisandre, she's dead, I executed her. Stannis recognizes the folly she brought him into." Daeron told her quickly.

"Good." She nodded. "Well, that woman bought Gendry… she made some weird experiments on him, even wanted to burn him. He escaped and hid until I found him again. I escaped but I was caught by the Hound. I travelled with him to the Twins, he wanted to sell me back to you and Mother. We arrived that night." She stared at Robb. "I saw them parading around the severed head of Grey Wind." Robb gulped. "Where is Ghost?" Arya digressed and turned to Daeron.

"Dead. A trap by Lord Bolton got him when we were in the Reach." He revealed. Arya nodded gravely.

"I thought our family was all dead except for Sansa who was a prisoner in the Red Keep. So, I stayed with the Hound, not that I had a choice anyway. He planned to take me to the Eyrie to Aunt Lysa. When we arrived at the Bloody Gate, they told us she had just died. The Hound did not know what to do next, and I had grown tired of being lost. I abandoned him in the middle of the night and walked all the way to Gulltown. There, using a coin the strange man from Harrenhal gave me, I took a ship for Braavos." She told them.

"Why would you go to Braavos?" Robb frowned.

"To train." She replied. "To become no one." She added cryptically. "When I finished training, I came back here. I met Gendry and Hot Pie again at the inn. Gendry chose to come with me as I rode to the Twins. And here we are now." She finished, but Daeron knew she had left much out. Over a year and a half had been edulcorated he realised. He had no idea what she had done in Braavos. Nor why and how she had come back.

"Lord Stannis told me you killed the Freys. Is that true?" Robb snapped his head at his cousin with surprise when he asked his question.

Arya confirmed. "At a feast. Poisoned wine. Every last one of the Freys who were implicated in the Red Wedding are dead."

"How?" Robb asked in shock.

Arya turned calmly to her brother. "I just told you."

Robb looked at Daeron for support, but the King felt they would need time to earn back the trust Arya gave them in childhood. He shook his head. If she did not want to tell, then so be it, the only thing that mattered was the death of the Freys. "Could we meet Gendry?" He demanded instead. He somehow knew the young man was important to her. Maybe if they showed genuine interest in her friend and welcomed him she would tell them more.

Gendry was a baseborn boy from Flea Bottom in King's Landing, yet he had a very interesting story. Jon Arryn and Ned Stark had asked to see him a few weeks before they died. The Gold Cloaks tried to have him executed for no reason. And the Red Woman wanted him for his blood, or so he told them. It was Stannis Baratheon who provided the explanation. He approached slowly behind Daeron as the King was detailing the boy talking to his cousins. He had short black hair, a cropped beard and deep blue eyes. He had told them he was a blacksmith. It was what he did at the inn, repairing the horseshoes of voyagers.

"He's my brother's bastard." Stannis stated from behind the King. Daeron frowned, he was about to ask for explanations but the lord provided them anyway. "He is the spitting image of Robert in his youth. Tall, broad shoulders, thick black hair. He's Robert's child, I'm sure of it. Melisandre told me of one of my 'nephews' she had captured and then lost while I fought in King's Landing. If what he says is true, and I believe it is, then it was him."

"Does he know?" Daeron wanted to know.

"Not yet, I don't think so." The Lord of Storm's End replied.

"He should." Daeron stated.

...

Daeron had not thought he would see Valyria again so soon. He had understood now that the closer in time his ancestor was to him, the more chance he had to see them, hence why he saw his grandmother much more than other Targaryens for instance. It was not the Valyria he remembered from the last time. Sure, the tall towers were still there, but there were less of them and they were less decorated than what he remembered.

"Hello Daeron." Daeron turned to see who he assumed was one of his ancestors. Silver hair, purple eyes, a black short-sleeved doublet and red breeches. His clothes were not as ornated as what he was used to though. His sword too, though it was Valyrian steel, the pommel had no decoration. He looked 'poorer' than what Daeron would have expected, the young King thought with shame. He held a glass jar filled with a red liquid that seemed hot since it created fog on the side of the jar. "I'm Shaeron Targaryen." The man spoke in Valyrian and extended his arm toward Daeron. He took it and they shook hands, something he had almost never done in his dreams.

"A pleasure." He replied, though it must have been clear to his ancestor that he was confused.

"You have been to Valyria before, right?" Daeron nodded. "I guess it was some time in the future though. Maybe one of my descendants… It did take me a great deal of energy to get to you." He chuckled slightly.

"I thank you for that." Daeron answered. He wanted to be polite, but at the same time, he was very curious. He could not stop looking all around him. On his left, he saw short houses in the Valyrian style with the occasional round and twisted towers. He was in a paved street, where Valyrians walked freely and calmly. A few slaves walked by, recognizable by their collars. On his left other houses with a forge closest to him. It was entirely made of polished obsidian he realised.

"I think you're going to need what I will teach you." Shaeron said with a smile.

Daeron turned his attention back to his ancestor. "What are you going to teach me?" He asked.

"Valyrian steel!" The man exclaimed happily.

Daeron frowned. "I thought the process was lost with the Doom. I always assumed our family never knew how to make it…"

"We did not exactly… In fact, there was only one family in all of Valyria that owned the forges that made Valyrian steel. They had discovered the process and provided for all of us. Since their prices were fair and we had other things to do, they kept the monopoly." He explained. "At least it was the case in my time. They were a noble family smaller than ours." He detailed. "House Damascus. I doubt their name has survived the test of time. In any case, they helped me greatly during the establishment of Volantis, so I concluded a marriage between my eldest daughter and one of their son. They let me in on the secret after we became friends."

"Did you not pass it down to your sons?" Daeron was astonished to realize his family had lost such a secret.

"I did, but we lost it. What was the point? We owned no forges, and the Damascus were there." Shaeron shrugged. "Now, follow me, let's see." He gestured for Daeron to enter the dragonglass forge that was nearby.

Daeron followed him inside as his ancestor greeted the slave blacksmith who was working the forge. "They're all mutes." He told Daeron. The young King was disgusted by the practice which he guessed ensured the process was not repeated to everyone around. "I brought you the blood blacksmith." Shaeron said to the other man and gave him the jar he had been transporting. So, it was blood. "It's my dragon's blood. The forge needs fresh one every fortnight and the fire must keep burning." He resumed his explanation to Daeron who watched as the blacksmith poured the liquid into the hearth. The hot ambers sizzled. Then, the slave put a long strip of normal looking steel into the forge. He waited until it became red and then, with a hammer started to bend it. It was a slow process. Daeron remembered from the few times he had watched the blacksmith in Winterfell, the steel was not glowing red, but almost white, much hotter. The slave man had to put his piece of steel several more times into the fire to bend in completely. And after that, he had to start over, bending in another direction. "Cold temperature in the forge is very important for the bending process." His ancestor explained in his ear. "That and the air needs to be controlled too. We cannot open the door once it's started, otherwise the outer air could affect the quality of the steel." They watched him bend and twist the steel slowly for four hours. Only then was he satisfied and the Valyrian steel had appeared taking its characteristic folded patters that looked like flowing water.

The blacksmith started hammering the steel on a mold to give it its final shape. Once he had a rough sword, he turned to Shaeron and nodded. Shaeron retrieved a knife from his belt and cut a small entail in his palm before putting the blood at the bottom of the mold. The slave finished modelling the sword on top of the blood. "It needs the blood of the person the dragon bonded with to be really strong." He explained. "I showed off a little, usually, I leave the blacksmiths a vial of my blood."

"All dragonlords did that?" Daeron asked.

"Most of them." Shaeron shrugged. "Though there were not many who actually bothered to ask what it was used for. It was usually part of the payment to House Damascus and people paid without question." After polishing the newly made sword and fixating the pommel, the slave was done with it. He presented it to Daeron and Shaeron. "See, how sharp it is? And it cannot be destroyed." The old Targaryen showed him. It was indeed pure Valyrian steel, sharp and freshly made.

As soon as he woke up, Daeron asked for parchment, ink and quill which was not exactly easy to find in Lord Stannis's camp. He had to write down what he had just learnt on small scrolls meant for ravens.

...

If Daeron had been offended by lack of propriety, then the Starks would have been in trouble for the way he was received when they arrived back in Winterfell. Though, he understood that Arya's arrival was more important than his and he did not take offense when Sansa and her mother all but ignored him. Even Bran had a small smirk on his face, which was rare now that he was the three-eyed raven.

Arya hugged her mother tightly. Lady Catelyn could not hold back the tears that fell freely on her cheeks. Daeron could see a single drop rolling down his cousin's face. Then, the girl jumped into her sister's arms. They had almost never hugged as children. For Bran, she basically sat on his laps.

Meanwhile, Arianne walked toward Daeron and gave him a peck on the cheek. He turned his attention to her and kissed her properly, no one was watching anyway. Then, he kissed his son's forehead as he usually did.

"There was an issue with one of the prisoners. I'll tell you later. And Rickon woke up." Arianne whispered to him.

"How is he?" Daeron pressed.

"Alive." Arianne answered with a grimace. "The Maester said his lungs were affected the worst by the poison. He has trouble breathing and he cannot get out of his bed for very long yet, only a couple of steps before he collapses in Lady Catelyn's arms."

"Well, at least he's alive." Daeron commented.

Indeed, he was alive. Pale, skinny, sickly-looking, but alive. Daeron gave him the biggest embrace he could without hurting him and Arya took him in her arms as she sat with him on the bed while the other members of the family stood around them.

"Are you up for a feast little man?" Robb said ruffling his littlest brother's hair.

"A feast?" The boy answered uncertainly.

"Yes, you have come back, Arya has come back, Winterfell is our home again, we ought to celebrate." Robb detailed. "In a fortnight when all the remaining lords and ladies have arrived." Rickon nodded enthusiastically. Once they were out of the boy's room, leaving him with the women, Robb spoke to Daeron. "At the feast, I'll chose my bride." He said with resolution. "I've already asked the lords and ladies to bring me the name of their candidates." Daeron was impressed and pleased that Robb was taking action.

Getting the imprisoned heirs – or should he say Lords now – back had changed Robb for the better. He was not as confident as he had been when he left Winterfell, but he was more able to be a lord now.

"Daeron, Robb." Arianne called behind them. They turned on their heels on sync.

"My Queen." Robb gave a quick bow.

"Daeron, the prisoner I told you about." She started. "I think you should both come and see." She said. She led them down, not to the dungeons, but to the kennels, which, in itself, was surprising. She pointed to a man curved into a ball in a corner of one of the cages. "We found him right after you left. He must have been stuck here the last fortnight." Daeron cursed himself. How could he have forgotten. He had seen him in his dream! "We brought him food. He refuses to leave the cage, he says 'master' will punish him if he does."

"Theon…" Robb's voice was seething with rage.

"No, not Theon, Reek!" The destroyed man replied vehemently. Robb burst into the cage and started hitting him. It took Arianne and Daeron both to hold him back, otherwise his punches would have killed the prisoner.

"He did not kill the boys." Daeron reminded his cousin. "They are alive. He usurped Winterfell like the other treasonous lords. He should be given a trial as well." He tried to reason him.

Thankfully, Robb was a sane man. He reluctantly agreed with his King and Queen. He only ordered that Theon was treated as any other highborn prisoner, so the broken man was ripped away from his cage.

...

The night of the feast had arrived faster than Daeron thought it would. When he reviewed the list of potential brides with Robb, he was surprised by one name. Alysanne Mormont. The lady was the ruler of Bear Island. Why would she give up her title? So, when he crossed her path in the halls just before the feast, he could not help but ask her.

"Lady Alysanne." He called her.

She turned towards him and curtsied though she looked quite annoyed to meet him. She was wearing a fine dress of vibrant green wool with leaves detail at the hem and the sleeves. He had never seen the warrior in such a feminine attire. "Your Grace."

"I saw your name on the list of potential Ladies of Winterfell."

"Indeed, your Grace, I volunteered myself." She replied matter-of-factly.

"May I ask why?" Daeron gestured for them to keep moving. "You are the lady of a keep in your own right already."

"Lyanna has been the Lady of Bear Island for three years already." She stated. Indeed, Daeron had grown fond of the little lady already. "What would she be supposed to do? Step down and give me a place I was never trained for? I cannot do that to her. I cannot do that to my people. I am just a broken soul who failed to protect her mother and her older sister." She added bitterly. "I'm not fit to be the Lady of Bear Island. And Lyanna respects you, she is the one you need as the ruler of the island not me."

"Why?"

"Because you're a Targaryen. I cannot accept that." She said.

"Yet, if you were to become the Lady of Winterfell, you would see a lot more of me than if you were the Lady of Bear Island." He reminded her.

"But I would not be the one in charge." She countered.

"I hope you do not mean to let Robb to rule alone. He needs a companion, a partner, not just a pretty wife." Daeron frowned at her.

"I know that, and I can be that companion." She affirmed. "Lord Robb and I, we share trauma. We've lived the same things after you abandoned us." Daeron rolled his eyes. "I knew Queen Talisa, I respected her. I think Lord Robb needs a woman who knows his past to be able to be his future."

"Indeed." Daeron agreed. There was an awkward silence. "Lady Lyanna will be an excellent leader." He said to break it.

"She will." Alysanne agreed. "If I am not chosen by Lord Robb, I will still step down and give her the place." She stated.

"I think my mother would be proud to have such a child named after her." Daeron thought that maybe, if he brought up his Northern roots, she would not hate him as much. It was a miss.

"I wish my mother had not named her after yours." Daeron was confused, he did not understand why she would say that. He thought his mother had been beloved in the North. "I grew up thinking Lyanna Stark was a martyr, a victim of the Targaryens. The symbol of the North's oppression. It turns out she was not. She was just a selfish little girl who ran after a pretty boy and set the whole Realm on fire doing so." She said.

Daeron felt his anger grow at having his mother insulted so. Instead of answering and risking saying something he might later regret, he cut out the conversation. "I wish you luck for tonight, my Lady."

Wow, so many things to talk about!
I brought Gendry back with Arya, I have not planned to give him much more of a backstory, so tell me if it's something you'd be interested in.
I think you might have guessed who Robb will marry ;).
What do you think will happen with Arya?

Next chapter: trials, a wedding and legitimizations.

Guest reviews:

- (acherus01) It's not a subplot to me and Arianne is not as in cannon.

- (Hitman) It would have been a fun story x).

- Thank you!