AN: I admit, I was hoping for more reviews of the past few chapters. Thank you, though, to all of you who've "followed" or "favorited" this story. I appreciate it!

"So the Red Woman told you of my blood?" Gendry quietly asked Ser Davos.

The older man cleared his throats. "I didn't think you'd want me to tell the exact details."

"Though eventually I will," Gendry.

"Why? Forgive me, Lord Baratheon, but I must ask what good could come from it? Melisandre used your blood to curse Lady Arya's brother—through no fault of your own—and sure enough, he met his end. You're in love. Anyone can see it. It does everyone good to see it. There is darkness enough in this world without adding to it needlessly."

Gendry nodded. "Thank you, again, for saving me."

"I've taken too many lives. It's feels good to save one."

After dinner, Jon made the rounds, talking to as many guests as possible before thanking everyone for coming and excusing himself. Then he, Sansa, Arya and Gendry left the hall together. The sisters were arm in arm, chatting happily.

"I don't think they've ever gotten along this well," Jon said.

"Your Grace..."

"Please, we're brothers now. Just call me Jon."

"Jon…how long did it take for your new name to feel real?"

"When I was 'Jon Snow,' I thought what I wanted most in the world was to be called 'Jon Stark,' but what I really wanted was something I'll never have: I wanted my father to call me 'Jon Stark.'

"Others giving you your father's name still means something. Maybe it means more. My brother Rob was named 'Stark' the second he was born because the right woman was his mother. I was named 'Stark' because the people of the North trust me with the responsibility my father bore. Your father held the realm together after the Mad King was killed. Not every man could have. You will find a way to honor your name."

"Ours is the fury?" Gendry asked, shaking his head at the absurd motto. "Three brothers tore each other apart, and what's left? A bastard blacksmith."

"That's Lord Bastard Blacksmith," Jon corrected with a laugh. "I'm still trying to figure out what we're supposed to say now that winter's actually here."

The women turned to look at them. "What's so funny?" Sansa asked.

"We're trying to come up with new house words," Jon said, "now that Winter is actually here."

"That's easy!" Arya exclaimed. "It should be, 'We told you so!'"

"And what of House Baratheon? Do you think children of ours need to run around proclaiming, 'Ours is the Fury?'"

"More like, 'Mum says if we go to war against each other, she'll feed us to her direwolf.'"

Sansa gasped and pulled away from her sister.

"Arya," Jon said with a censuring tone.

"It was just a joke. Of course I wouldn't really…" Then a memory dawned on her. "The rumor? Surely the rumor wasn't true! Jon, you didn't really feed a bound man to Ghost?"

Sansa straightened to her fullest height and walked away without a glance back.

"I'm sorry. I…I didn't know!"

"It's not what you think," Jon said. He took a deep breath, hung his head and ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture he'd had since childhood. "It was his own dogs. He starved them—used them to hunt people, including Sansa. He bragged of all the foul things he would do to her after the battle. So when we won…she gave him the treatment he would have given others."

"I need to go talk to her," Arya said. Jon nodded, and Arya followed after her sister. She knocked at the door. "Sansa?"

"Go away, Arya!"

"Please? It's our first day back together. I don't want it to end like this."

There was a long pause, then Sansa said, "Come in."

Arya sat beside her sister on the bed. "I want to say the right thing, but I'm no good at it. I should say something comforting about how it's all behind you, but…"

Sansa raised an eyebrow. "But what?"

"What I really want to say is, Good! I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad you're the one who killed him! I'm glad that he died knowing that he couldn't break you!"

"But didn't he? I didn't just kill him, Arya. I liked it."

"You sound like Gendry. Our sigil is the direwolf. Do wolves regret it when they kill a creature that threatens their pack? No, and neither should we!"

"We aren't animals, Arya!"

"Aren't we? Have you ever heard how soldiers talk about battle? Tell me some of them don't love it!"

"It doesn't concern you at all that you like killing?"

Arya sighed. "I was alone for so long, and every night before going to sleep, I would repeat a list, Sansa: a list of every person who deserved to die by my hand. When I came back to Westeros, I didn't go looking for you. I chopped Walder Frey's sons up and fed them to him in a pie before slitting his treacherous throat."

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed, recoiling in horror.

"When Gendry found me again on the bridge, I was planning how to finish my list—how to kill the Mountain and the Queen. Gendry said he would take me to you, but only if I gave up my plan. He said he would marry me, but only if I wouldn't kill Cersei and take the throne. He said it like it was a joke, but it wasn't."

"'Westeros is not ready for the wrath of Queen Arya.'" Sansa recalled.

Arya nodded. "Remember those dancing lessons I had in King's Landing?"

"You always came back a mess. You were so clumsy."

"They weren't that kind of dancing lessons. It was water dancing—swordplay—with the First Sword of Bravos. He said there is just one god, the God of Death. 'And what do we say to the God of Death? Not today.' I've come to realize that Syrio never ran from a fight, but he didn't go picking fights, either. I'm glad that we know how to defend ourselves and our family, but there's more than one way for the God of Death to come to you. I paid it tribute again and again with bloody sacrifices. But I must learn to follow my Dancing Master's advice: Tell it, 'Not Today.'"

"And what about the things we have already done?" Sansa asked.

"Syrio said, 'Every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better.'"

"Then I must be nearing perfection by now," Sansa grumbled, making Arya laugh so hard that Sansa laughed, too. Then they shared a tight embrace before parting for bed.

AN: Please take a moment to drop a line. The quicker I get comments, the quicker I get inspired and you get new chapters! Where do you hope this story goes?