"Gendry!" He was climbing the stairs at a quick clip, and Arya chased after him, up the stairs and into their room. "Gendry, are you okay?" He sat on the bed with his head in his hands. She knelt before him.

"My whole life, I was just some bastard. Gendry Rivers, the blacksmith's apprentice. I could take pride in just one thing: I worked for the best armor in King's Landing, and I made beautiful armor."

"I remember. That bull's head helmet was beautiful," Arya agreed.

"And then the hand of the king came. And when he died, your father came. And then I was headed to The Wall. One day, that crazy Red Woman appeared, and everything changed. She told me who my father was—that he was the reason I was strong and a good fighter. 'There is power in a king's blood.'"

"You will make kings rise and fall," Arya recalled.

"It seemed strange to me that just having Robert Barratheon, the Rebel King, as my father would make such a difference, but Targaryen blood? She took me to Stannis Baratheon at Dragonstone." He told his wife of the room full of candles and braziers. How Melissandre had given him wine and teased him that he was afraid he'd have to pay for every bite. And hadn't he had to pay for it in the end? He couldn't look her in the eye, and his muscles clenched as he admitted all that happened after, from the bed to the leaches thrown in the fire with Stannis Baratheon assigning each a cursed name: "The Usurper Rob Stark. The Usurper Balon Greyjoy. The Usurper Joffrey Baratheon."

"You didn't kill them." He nodded, but he wouldn't look Arya in the eye. "I don't care what that witch said! Rob was murdered by the Freys. Rumor has it, Balon Greyjoy was murdered by his brother. And Joffrey was poisoned. You did none of those things."

He grabbed his wife in a grateful hug and buried his face in her brown hair, which was just long enough now to brush her shoulders. His arms were like bands of steel, and Arya realized just how strong he was, and how careful he had always been with her—excepting one time on the run from King's Landing when they'd been stopped at Acorn Hall. Gendry had been teasing Arya, and they'd somehow gotten into a full-tilt wrestling match. At the end, they'd been covered in dirt and she'd had a torn sleeve.

"Want to wrestle? Just don't tear my sleeve this time, or you'll have to answer to Sansa." Gendry had been on the verge of tears, but burst into laughter at that, kissed his wife deeply and pulled her tighter. He tickled Arya and she responded by elbowing him in the gut.

Sansa walked by their room and smiled when she heard through their closed door the laughter of a happy couple in love.

Arya stood on a small stool as Sansa circled her, putting finishing touches on a gown. It was the nicest Arya would take on her journey: blue-gray with subtle silver wolves embroidered on the bodice and narrow borders of stylized gold stag-horns embroidered along the edges of her sleeves and neckline.

With the help of Mara and some of the other maids, Sansa had also completed a warm cloak lined in gray fur, a few simple sheaths in Arya's favorite shades of blue, green and brown, some neutral gathered-neck blouses Northern women had worn for generations, and the fitted gown-bodice with a long peplum that she'd first envisioned for her sister to use with breeches. During their sparring matches, Sansa had realized that her sister would never wear the number of layers Sansa had originally planned for the sake of tradition and dignity, as it would slow her down too much. Sansa then made Arya a knee-length brown leather jacket much like Jon's, but tailored to Arya's small frame, and brown leather breeches.

"So many clothes!" Arya exclaimed, looking a the trunk they were filling with garments. She had to smile, though, at the thought of her new breeches—the finest she'd ever had.

"You had far more when we were girls," Sansa said.

"I know, but it hasn't been that way in a long time."

Arya had initially been wary at the prospect of being at her sister's mercy regarding clothing, but her time at the House of Black and White and her time with Lady Crane had taught her the value of a good costume. Besides, Sansa had a gift for creating garments that were warm, comfortable and easy to move in. Some of them were quite pretty, as well, though that wasn't as important to Arya. "Thank you, Sansa. I know how hard you worked. Are you upset that we're leaving and you're staying?"

"This is where I feel safest," Sansa said. "If I had my way, I don't think I'd ever leave Winterfell again." Arya nodded, but was a bit sad remembering how Sansa had once thirsted to travel and see all the beautiful, glamorous places the world had to offer.

"How is Gendry coping with the news?" Sansa asked.

"He seems to be adjusting." "A bit stunned, but he says he's used to learning strange things about himself. He told me a really sad story, actually. We were separated years ago when the Red Woman took him. She used his blood to curse people, including Robb. He's felt bad about it ever since. I told him it wasn't his fault. The Freys were horrible long before that witch cast her curse."

"I don't know how to feel about that woman. She saved Jon's life, but she burned an innocent little girl alive because she thought it would bring victory in battle."

"If you don't want to come, then why do you seem so sad?"

"I just got you and Jon back. Things don't tend to go well for Starks when we're separated.

'When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'"

"You have a point," Arya agreed. "But when the dragon queen calls…" Arya studied her sister's face. "Will you be okay here without us? With Littlefinger? I wish he would leave. I've never trusted him, not even when we were children, and…"

"Petyr Baelish," Sansa whispered. "Don't ever let him hear you call him 'Littlefinger.' Lord Baelish is a powerful friend and a dangerous enemy. He must believe we are on the same side."

"And you think he'll be content to remain at the side?"

"No, but for now, what choice do we have? We need the Knights of the Vale. I won't be able to hold The North alone. But can I tell you a secret?"

Arya raised an eyebrow but said, "Of course."

Sansa took a moment to examine the room, making sure no one was listening from the hall or hidded in a nook or cranny of the room. She felt a bit mad for doing so, but couldn't risk it. Meanwhile, Arya shimmied out of the completed dress and hung it in a wardrobe, then slipped into the jerkin, tunic and black trousers she generally used for sparring practice. Her hair was barely short enough to plait well, so changing so quickly had resulted in strands escaping the braid to stick up around her face.

"I received a letter from Tyrion Lannister." Arya's eyes widened, but she didn't speak. "You know he was my husband, but what I never told you is…he was good to me. Kind. We never even…"

Arya nodded her understanding.

"Before I married Tyrion, I was so upset because of the way he looked and all the terrible things people called him: the half-man, the imp. When I met Ramsey, on the other hand… it's hard to believe now, but the first time I saw Ramsey I found him handsome. He had lovely eyes and a velvety voice. Later, I came to know how cold his eyes could be, and how poisonous his words. He was a monster, truly. Ever since, I don't feel comfortable around most men. Jon is alright, of course. Ser Davos reminds me of father. But most men?" She shook her head. "They don't have to do anything wrong and I start to shake. I'm no coward, so it makes me so angry. But it isn't like that with Tyrion. He could have done anything to me back then, but he protected me. He's quite witty, too. Funny... and good-looking."

"Really?" Arya exclaimed in a teasing tone.

"Shhh!" Sansa whispered. "In his letter, he said that he is Lord of Casterly Rock again. The mines are nearly out of gold, but during the battle they discovered that a local stone turns to dragonglass when touched by dragonfire. That means he'll have money and power, too. It's a valuable alliance."

Arya's jaw dropped. "Are you saying…"

"Arya!" Sansa again admonished her sister for being too loud.

Arya rolled her eyes but whispered into her sister's ear, "Are you saying you want to marry Tyrion Lannister?"

Sansa smirked and whispered, "I believe I am."