Disclaimer: Characters and past storylines belong to the series creators and George R.R. Martin.

If I knew you and you knew me, as each one knows his own self,
We could look each other in the face and see therein a truer grace.

Life has so many hidden woes, so many thorns for every rose;
The "why" of things our hearts would see, if I knew you and you knew me.

from To Know All Is to Forgive All by Nixon Waterman

Arya

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She left the capital mixed of emotion. She'd decapitated the man who'd taken her father's head, and though Cersei was dead, and she'd seen Ser Jaime, now Queenslayer, do it, she felt no satisfaction in the deed. There was nothing to be done about it though, so she tried to put it from her mind, and focused on those still left on her list.

Thoros of Myr. Beric Dondarrion. The Red Woman. The Mountain. Theon Greyjoy.

She'd recently added him when she heard what he'd done to Winterfell, that he'd killed Ser Rodrick Cassel, and his men had killed Maester Luwin and the people who worked there, that they'd burned most of the castle away. She would take care of him last, and then she would go home.

She took the Kingsroad north, feeling the difference from when the lands had been under Lannister rule. She was reminded of the days before the war, when she'd taken the road south, there had been people, and they'd spoken to her, and been kind to her. The road this day felt much the same, though vastly colder.

Winter is here, she thought. She imagined the castle covered in white, snow covering the green hills outside Winterfell. She wondered how long it would be until she set her eyes upon it again, and upon her family.

She wondered how Jon felt being king in the North, wondered if Sansa was jealous they'd rallied behind him a bastard, and not her, a trueborn Stark. Even after all this time, she missed her half brother dearly, and when she'd heard the news, she was glad for him. She was sure he deserved the title, and though she'd never told anyone, she'd always thought him the most like their father, not only in looks, but in the way he was.

She wondered then, what would happen between her brother and the Targaryen Queen. Would she ask him to bend the knee, and take off his crown? What if he refused? Would she declare war on him for control of the North? She hoped it did not come to that. Queen Daenerys had ended Cersei's rule, and there seemed to be peace in the south. Her brother had been named King, and the same was happening in the north. One war was ending, but another seemed to loom in the near future.

Dragon against Direwolf, and she did not like the odds.

When she reached the Inn at the Crossroads she momentarily considered wearing one of her faces, but she could not believe Hot Pie was still alive let alone baking there, so she remained herself. She doubted he'd recognize her in any case, she'd been playing boy for most of the time she'd known him, and she'd been a child. She was not Arry the orphan boy, not Weasel the cleaning scrub, nor Arya the runaway.

It was dark when she arrived, and she sat at a small trestle table in the back. The Inn was not full, but there were a dozen or more men and women, eating, or drinking or both. A girl her age approached her, likely the keep's daughter and she asked for a bowl of stew and a piece of bread. The girl offered her the house ale, saying it was quite good. She shook her head, and asked for water instead.

The faceless men did not have vices, so they remained sharp. She was not faceless, but she needed to stay focused, so she would follow their way as much as it served her to.

As she waited, she considered how she would go about finding the brotherhood. They were still around it seemed, though their numbers had been steadily dwindling. In the morning she would take the River Road West to the last place she'd heard word of them before she'd taken off to King's Landing, and go from there.

Her food arrived then, though it was not the girl who brought it, but a tall bulky man, with dark curly hair. He placed her food and drink on the table, and she looked up, thanked him and pulled the bowl closer. She'd already filled her mouth and was tearing at her bread when she realized he was still standing before her.

"You been here before?" He asked.

She shook her head, and dipped her bread into the broth.

"We've met, i'm sure of it. I never forget a face."

She sneered at him, thinking he was trying to flatter her.

"I doubt it," She answered, brushing him off.

She returned to her hot food, when the man sat down. Suddenly she was alert, and while she let go of both spoon and bread, one hand reached for the water while the other slid under the table, and grabbed the dagger hidden in her clothes. She surveyed the room, but no one seemed to be approaching them, nor paying them any mind. So he was alone it seemed. She kept her attention on his hands, which remained crossed on the table in front of her.

He stared at her intently, though he did not seem to notice that her guard was up.

"Well you're from the North, that's quite obvious though there's something in your accent that's foreign somehow."

She wanted to bare her knife at him to force him to leave but his words had surprised her, how could he know such things?

"What do you mean quite obvious? I said three words to you," She said instead, her voice scornful.

"Five," He corrected.

When he realized that hadn't made anything better, he continued, "Been here long time. People from everywhere come and go, you sort of get to be able to tell 'em apart."

She nodded, and suddenly didn't care anymore. Sensing no danger, she sheathed her dagger.

"Can I eat now?"

She turned to her food and didn't let him answer. She picked up the bread, tore at it and dipped it into her bowl, then stuffed it into her mouth. When she looked back up, he was gone. She looked around but did not see him, and suddenly felt awful. She ate her stew fast and paid for her meal, and decided she'd rather spend the night under the stars.

When she went to leave, she saw him in the back, and decided she would apologize. She was a Stark and unkindness was not their way. She approached him directly, and he looked at her with squinting eyes.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness earlier, I was just really hungry."

He did not seem to be bothered with that nor her words, as his eyes suddenly grew wide.

"Arry?" He said then. "From Winterhell?"

She was surprised though her face did not show it. She could not believe the tall man, though still young and the right age, could be the short boy she'd known years ago.

"Winterfell," She corrected.

When he smiled, she knew that it was. He'd been her friend, and though he was a coward, she trusted him.

"I knew I knew you!" He exclaimed.

She made a face at him so he would keep his voice down, and he seemed to suddenly remember everything else that came with being her. He beckoned her to follow and soon they were outside, at the back of the Inn, where they were alone. In an effort to guide the conversation away from herself, she spoke first.

"Hot Pie. I hardly recognize you and I can't believe you're still here."

He shrugged, "Grew up fast, and times were hard under the Mad Queen. And they call me Hallys now. Seems Hot Pie's not fit a name for the head cook."

He beamed at her, and she was glad he seemed happy. For a moment she envied him, his simple life, and how he'd succeeded at it. She'd done well enough in her own life, but she had sacrificed a lot, surviving almost on will alone.

"It suits you," She said kindly, sounding unlike herself.

"And you? Heading to Winterfell now that your brother is king?"

She was not entirely surprised he was so well informed, word always travelled fast in the seven kingdoms, though often skewed in the many retellings. But she realized he likely knew of what happened to her mother and brother as well, and her Aunt Lysa, being here, at the Crossroads Inn, right in the thick of it all.

She hesitated a moment, deciding whether to tell him the truth or not.

She opted for the later, knowing it would not do any harm, "Not yet."

And then deciding he might be able to help her out she told him of her real quest, or at least part of it.

"I'm looking for the Brotherhood. They owe me a debt."

He did not seem surprised by this, almost everyone in the Riverlands was owed something by the outlaws, though that was not exactly what she meant.

He grinned, "I'm not sure they'll be able to pay you back, their ranks have only dwindled since the Mad Queen died."

She smirked in return, "I'm sure we'll come to some sort of agreement. Do you know where they are?"

He did not even hesitate, "I saw Anguy 'bout a moon ago. Came by with some new faces. I fed 'em, and he told me about the others. Old Lord Lychester helps 'em sometimes. Says they're hiding in Sallydance, though ain't no one looking for 'em no more."

She was not entirely surprised Anguy was still alive, his skills had vastly outweighed his age, even then. She could only imagine what he'd become, and briefly wondered if she'd have to kill him too.

"Wha' happened to Gendry?" Her old friend asked then.

Whatever mirth she had in her, disappeared at his mention. She still did not know what had happened to him, but she'd known the red woman's intentions from the moment they snatched Gendry, and whatever it was, she knew it had not been good.

She was not sure whether she should tell him or not, what would be the point now, to bear such a burden on him, the bull was long gone. And then she realized, she did not want to steal from him the only other person who would mourn his disappearance.

"I don't know," She finally said, deciding on the truth she had.

"A red priestess came and took him away."

There was a moment of silence, in which she thought he might realize why she sought the Brotherhood, but he seemed only disheartened by the news. It was then that she remembered that he'd known her before she'd become the killer she was now.

"He might still be alive," He sounded hopeful.

She wanted to feel it, but couldn't, instead she felt only a burning rage as she thought of the ones responsible, each face crossing her mind in a list. She saw no point in denying him his hope though, but she could not bring herself to share in it.

She decided on an ambivalent reply, "I guess we'll never know."

That night she stayed at the Inn after all, and left in the morning after Hot Pie fed her, gave her directions to Sallydance and sent her off with a bread that looked so like a wolf she almost didn't want to eat it. She assured him she would visit again though it was a promise she did not exactly intend on keeping, though maybe someday, she would.

When she was done.

a/n: Kind of a short chapter, and a filler at best, but crucial to my story. Next update to be posted soon. Reviews are welcome and appreciated!

Thanks again.