Things felt a bit strained now between Arya and Gendry, but it felt like they entered a silent truce that until their paths must part they will still have each other.

They were practicing archery in the forest with Anguy, or more like Anguy was teaching Arya how to shoot properly. They went on and on for hours, Anguy always reminding Arya not to aim. He tried archery before when they first arrived, but realized sooner rather than later that the bow and arrow were not meant for him. His aim was horrible and he hated himself for being bested by his highborn friend. She always hit the target. Though he hated being bested he couldn't stop the feeling of pride and awe at her abilities. She always made him want to be better, be braver, and be stronger. She just has that effect on him.

They were taking a break, with Anguy consulting him on the arrow tips he had and if he could maybe make some more. He held the pointed tip, examined it, and weighed it in his hand. It was well crafted, not too heavy to limit the range that it could fly, but it was sturdy and strong enough to pierce anything, flesh or wood, if fired at the right velocity and angle. "Can you make 'em?", Anguy asked him. He could make more of these, being a blacksmith is his domain after all. "Yeah, nothing tricky about it. Just need some decent steel", he replied.

The sound of approaching footsteps and hooves disturbed their conversation. They saw Thoros and Beric approaching them with a woman in a red cloak in their midst.

The three of them were silently watching as they came towards them, when Arya butted in saying "I don't like that woman." He had no clue who this woman in red was, "That's cause you're a girl" replied Anguy, to which he couldn't hide the smirk and look they both shared. He may not know the woman but he wasn't blind, she was beautiful, enchanting even.

Then he felt himself being wrestled, and the peaceful moment was gone as he heard someone say "Forgive me, lad."

He was being tied up by 2 men and placed in the cart, despite struggling with all his strength he couldn't shake them off. He could hear Arya arguing with the Brotherhood, accusing them of not stopping this woman from taking him. He couldn't understand, didn't want to understand, that all the things Arya said of him being sold off came too true and too quick.

It's not supposed to be this way, not yet, he thought.

Damn the Lord of Light, damn the Brotherhood who needed more gold than brothers.

The sense of betrayal and anger rose within his chest, "You told me this was a Brotherhood, you told me I could be one of you." he told to Beric, as he was being dragged away.

He didn't answer but the red woman did, "You are more than they can ever be. They're just foot soldiers in the great war. You will make kings rise and fall." Her voice sounded all-knowing, but her words just didn't fit.

He was tired now of fighting, of trying to stay with a family that again had passed him off. Then he heard Arya's voice screaming accusations at the red woman, "You're a witch, you're going to hurt him."

Even after their little disagreement, there she was, still trying to defend him, still trying to keep him from being hurt. The pain was too much to bear, and the shame was overwhelming him. He felt the cart move forward, but he didn't have the strength to look at Arya or to say goodbye.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, we were supposed to part once she went back to her family, he thought.

The words refused to leave his lips, he wanted to say good bye, call her mi'lady jokingly one last time, to fight with her, to tell her not to be too brave. He wanted to tell her to try her best to stay alive and he will too. All those thoughts and feelings left hanging in the silence. All he could think of was that the Lord of Light may have parted them, but hopefully the seven gods will unite them once again.

The sight of their standing figures soon blended into the trees, he could no longer hear Arya begging for the Brotherhood to stop them.

At least they'll take her back to her family, he thought, after all there was gold involved in her ransom. They wouldn't risk losing someone valuable, unlike him, just a tool in the games these highborns played. After what seemed to be hours, based on the setting sun, they arrived at the docks and he was brought onto a ship, sailing to who knows where. He wondered if it was going to King's Landing, if it was time for him to be killed by the Lannisters for whatever made up reason they had. He was released from his constraints once the ship had sailed, it's not like he could swim anyway. He watched the disappearing harbor, the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and the ship. It was deafeningly silent, he missed the endless chatter from Arya, he could imagine her annoying the Brotherhood non-stop. He allowed a faint smile to grace his lips at the thought of the only highborn he appreciated having known. The sun set slowly, the golden light of day disappearing as he lost sight of the shore, he still didn't know why he was taken but for now he dared not ask. The tiredness of the day caught up to him and he allowed himself to rest while he could. He felt the ship rocking and the cool air all around, he slept alone for the first time since he left King's Landing. He missed the warmth of his companion's body beside him.

Each day passed like the one before them, but one day came where the view was no longer just the sea. He remembered the place vaguely, it looked like King's Landing, but he couldn't have been sure due to the amount of damage it took. Even the waters seemed different, like it was poisoned.

He was too curious and finally asked the red woman, "what happened?".

The red woman replied with one word, "Wildfire."

He had heard of wildfire and the madness that happened the last time it was used. It was a highborn's weapon, that he knew, and a very deadly one. Back in King's Landing once again, it seems like his life have come full circle. He was sent away from King's Landing to go to the Wall, only to be led here again.

"Do you miss it?", the red woman asked.

He wanted to laugh, "King's Landing?", was he supposed to miss this place where he was nothing. He was born here, but it was never home.

"Your father's house", she clarified.

He corrected her, "Never had a father. Never wanted one." I have no family, never will, he thought.

He thought that would be the end of it and was about to walk away but the red woman continued, "Haven't you ever wondered where your strength came from? Your talent for fighting?", there's something about her voice that was captivating like witchcraft. Either way, he was hooked into the conversation once again.

He reminded her, "I'm a lowborn, as low as can be. My mother was a tavern wench.", and he thought to himself my strength came from my training to be a blacksmith, but i'm not that strong.

The red woman spoke again, "Mine was a slave, and so was I. Bought and sold, scourged and branded, until the Lord of Light reached down, took me in his hand and raised me up." He was shocked at that information to say the least, he relaxed a bit in her presence without even realizing it, but still didn't yield.

"I was born in Flea Bottom.", there's nothing lower than Flea Bottom.

He noticed the slight of a smile on the red woman's lips and looked at her wide seemingly all-seeing eyes, "Your blood is noble" she said, almost like a prophecy. He never knew who was his father but a highborn man with a tavern wench wouldn't be uncommon.

She pointed to the Red Keep and said "Your father's house".

"I'm just a bastard", it's still a fact, I have nothing to do with those Lords or whatnot.

"The bastard of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men. Why do you think the gold cloaks wanted you? There is power in a king's blood."

At that moment, all cautiousness escaped him, as he stared at King's Landing, and an inkling of hope crept into his body. Hope for what he didn't know.