"And where did you disappear to today?" Sansa asked as she fixed her hair in her room in the tower. Arya stormed into the room and flopped down on her sister's bed. The hem of her skirts were covered in dust from the tunnels under the Red Keep and her hair was a mess from tugging at the braids and buns that had attempted to whip it into submission.

"Nowhere important." She said wistfully.

Sansa paused a moment. Usually Arya would've stormed into the room with a glare at her sister's attempts at perfection, would've mocked her southern hairstyles, would've rubbed a handful of dirt across her skirts just to make Sansa cringe.

"Were you off with the Prince?" Sansa asked carefully. "After he told us about the tea and cakes you both vanished. I suppose I figured you must've vanished off together." Arya kept her head on the featherbed and stared up at the ceiling.

"No, I went exploring on my own. Why would I go anywhere with that dumb prince?" She said, picking at the stitching of the blankets.

"He's the future King, Arya, you shouldn't speak of him like that." Sansa said quietly, trying her best to see her sister in the mirror's reflection. "And you shouldn't break your promise to our mother like that. You told her you would try harder to-"

"I know what I said, Sansa. I don't need you to remind me." Arya groaned.

"It's just, I do need to remind you. We have responsibilities here, Arya. To represent our House, the North, to show everyone here that we belong here as well as they do."

"You're not representing the North. The North is nothing like this! We don't belong here!" Arya shouted, sitting up pin straight. "I don't want to belong here?"

Sansa was at a loss for words, her mother and father had been very specific: Arya was not to know about the marriage. And Sansa knew that if Arya was to remain ignorant to it, she'd have to help her survive this place.

But this put Sansa in a difficult spot: on the one hand she had Joffrey. They'd gotten along so well when they'd last met. Sansa had thought of him frequently in the last five years, her handsome prince. Some memories stood out more vividly than others, and some she'd created all on her own. She'd imagined her future with Joffrey, what their children would look like, if they'd take the reign of Storm's End since Stannis Baratheon had yet to produce a male heir, or if by some strange twist of magic Joff would be named King.

That was the catch of it all. Sansa had spent years pining after her memories of Queen Cersei, the most perfect woman she'd ever beheld. She wanted that, she wanted to be that more than anything. And she could have it, if she married Prince Gendry. She'd never been able to picture the prince, he'd never shown all those years ago in Winterfell, all she had to go on was that, unlike Joffrey, he was the spitting image of King Robert, and that wasn't much for a girl to hold out hope on. But he was so much better than King Robert could ever be. He was unbelievably handsome, well-mannered, Myrcella raved about him constantly and he was well liked by the people. He would make a great king. And he could be hers. She could be his.

Then there was Arya to consider. Sansa glanced over her shoulder at her sister. There was always Arya to consider.

She wouldn't make a good queen. It was the plain fact that couldn't be avoided. She was restless, and impatient, she hated anyone who wasn't from the North, and even some of them she wasn't overly fond of. She wouldn't be a good match for Gendry. They didn't have a future together, they were incompatible at the base of it.

But Arya and Joffrey, that would be a disaster. She's not sure which would happen first: Arya killing Joffrey or Joffrey killing himself.

I could tell her, The thought crept up on Sansa all of a sudden, I could tell her right now. Then the choice would be all mine. "No." She said quietly, shaking the evil thought from her head. She stood suddenly, and looked at her sister.

"Arya," She found herself saying,

"Hmm?" Her sister said. Her eyes were closed, her fingers rubbing her temples.

"If you could go anywhere in the seven kingdoms, anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

"That's a dumb question," Arya said, finally sounding like her usual self. "I would go..." Then she couldn't find an answer. Winterfell, the Wall, those were the obvious choices. East to Essos, the Shivering Sea, the Iron Islands, Dorne, Bear Island. She wanted to go everywhere. And then she would return home. "I don't know where I'd go." She said honestly. Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Gendry. She could out to the woods, she was sure if she waited there long enough that Nymeria would find her. And she'd have grown big and Arya could ride on her back all across the Seven Kingdoms. "I never did go see the Wall." She wanted Jon, more than anything suddenly she had to see him.

"Mayhaps you should go," Sansa said, appalling herself with her own words. Either she was concocting some malicious plan, or else she genuinely felt for her sister. She wasn't sure which feeling burned stronger inside her. "You might never get another chance." If only she knew how true that was.

The sentence hung over them, pure silence filled the room, only the sound of the winds, and then they both turned, Sansa to her vanity mirror, Arya to her own room.

Arya paced around her room for the next hour, by the time her mother came in to check on her preparations for dinner, but of course, nothing was prepared. Her hair, still a mess, was stringy and falling in pieces around her face. Her skirts were not only covered in grime but wrinkled as well. But that wasn't what her mother noticed about her when she walked into the room. She noticed how her daughter was wringing her hands over and over, walking back and forth in front of the balcony door, like a caged animal going mad.

"Arya?" She said, the girl didn't seem to hear her. "Arya, stop this right now." Catelyn said, attempting to sound firm. Arya just looked at her nervously, eyes wide and terrified, and continued her pacing.

Cat backed slowly out of the room and went as fast as her feet could carry her up to her bed chamber. Ned sat on the bed in front of her, staring out the window at the city, he look so tired already, so worn down, and they'd only just arrived in the Capital. "Ned," She said, causing his attention to flick up. "Come quick, it's Arya." Her husband stood and brushed past her, the two of them chased down the stairs to Arya's room once more. The door was open and she was still there, pacing.

Ned gave his wife a knowing look and she nodded closing the door behind him as he entered. He walked up to his daughter and clasped her small arm in his hands. "Arya?"

She finally stopped in her tracks. "I want to see Jon." She said, like an arrow piercing his heart. "I want to see him, now. Can we go now?"

Ned was speechless. "Arya, what brought this on?"

"I haven't seen him in years. And you promised we could go visit him at the Wall and we never did. What if I never see him again?" She asked.

"Arya," Ned said slowly, "What did Sansa say to you?"

"She asked me if I wanted to go anywhere in the world, where would it be?" She said.

"And you thought of Jon?" He said.

"No, I thought of a hundred different places at once, and then I realized Jon and the Wall. He wasn't even my first thought, how awful is that? I want to go to countless different places, and he wasn't the first on my list. He should be." She decided. "He is. My first thought was that this is the last place in Westeros I'd ever want to be. I don't want to be here anymore."

"Arya, it's been two days." He reasoned.

"And that's two days too long." She looked him clear in the eye, "I need to go home."

He wanted to give that to her, more than anything, but he couldn't. "What if instead I bring a part of home here to you?" He said. "Or better yet, you stop hiding what you're hiding under your bed."

Finally, she broke a smile. And though he could barely believe it, a faint red blush crept up her cheeks.

She stood and walked to the side of her bed, pulling out the small case that held her very own sword, the one Jon had given her before he left for the Wall. She took it from it's scabbard and walked over to her father's side. She presented it to him meekly, but could barely hide her pride.

"Do you still remember everything your brothers taught you?" She nodded. "Well, perhaps you should spend tonight on your own practicing, and we'll see what tomorrow brings."

"So I don't have to go to dinner with the royal family?" She asked.

"Not tonight, Arya." He clarified. "But soon, you will. You can't avoid it forever."

She groaned and watched him leave the room, when the door clicked shut behind him she picked up her sword and started to swing.

Sansa sat down at dinner while once again, Arya was absent. Her father and mother had excused her, saying she had taken ill, the King had nodded half-heartedly and Prince Gendry had expressed his concern, but after that no more questions were asked.

It went unnoticed that Sansa too was feeling less than well. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about her conversation with Arya. She'd tried to send her sister away, indirectly of course, but that had been her intent. Deep down she couldn't ignore that fact. And now she was struck by a strange mix of guilt and the disappointment that came from knowing her plan had fallen through.

Her eyes landed on the Queen, the regal, beautiful queen with her perfect posture, her dresses and hairs so intricately designed, so polished. Her smile so demure. She could be like her. She would be like her.

She turned to her left, to Prince Joffrey and smiled, "I must say, your Grace, the castle is quite incredible. From what little I've seen of it so far it seems so grand and breathtaking. So much unlike anything in the North."

Joffrey looked at her a scoffed before grabbing his goblet of wine and taking a sip, "Of course it is." He said. "This is a magnificent city, grander than any to come before it."

"Have you seen many cities, my lord?" Sansa asked, desperate to make up for her first comment. She was eager to speak with the prince, to get to know both him and his brother, and to be the darling Northern girl all the Soutrhoners knew and loved. But now that she was here, her fantasies were out of reach and she was finding it harder and harder to become the girl she'd always imagined.

Joffrey's face blanched for a sliver of a moment before he contorted it into an expression of derision, "Of course I've seen many cities. I'm the royal prince of Westeros."

"Of course, you Grace." Sansa stuttered in reply, no longer sure where she'd gone so wrong.

Prince Gendry leaned forwards in his chair, he sat on the other side of Joffrey, and interrupted them. "Mayhaps, little brother, you could tell Lady Sansa some of the places you've travelled?"

Joffrey scowled at his brother but Sansa was still all nervous smiles, "I would love to hear some of your stories, Prince Joffrey."

Gendry smiled. He felt for the girl, and her patience knew no bounds.

"I wouldn't bother with stories about our travels." Joffrey said, his voice a mix of sullenness and uncertainty.

Truthfully, Gendry wasn't sure if Joffrey was capable of telling a story. He didn't converse well with people about matters that didn't revolve around him or his interests, which were unvaried and odd. Gendry could only manage a conversation with his brother under the best of times, more often than not they regarded each other cooly and with a borderline hostile civility.

He could never be sure what is what although he could warrant the obvious guess that it had something to do with the crown Gendry would one day wear, plus a little extra prodding from their mother. It was the same attitude their father took in the practice yard: a little friendly compassion, a bit of brotherly comradery, a good honest fight. Although the Queen didn't play with brute force, she played a different game, and Joffrey had always been her favourite game piece.

Still the Starks were their guests, and they would soon enough be more than that, and Gendry knew it was part of his duty to see that Joffrey didn't alienate this poor girl who would one day be his brother's wife.

"You could tell her about our trip to Storm's End, about Myrcella and Shireen's discovery out on the beaches."

Again, Joffrey could only scoff and drink from his glass. "They saw some red lights in the sky, who would care about such stupid things?"

Gendry had to hold back from laughing at his brother's obliviousness. "Well, mayhaps Lady Sansa would." He said. Joffrey said nothing, only tightened his grip around his fork before letting go and pushing his chair back. He brushed past his brother as he walked away from the table. "I apologize for my brother." Gendry said. The two of them watched as Joffrey disappeared from the Hall.

"Well, I apologize for my sister, your Grace" Sansa said, rolling her eyes.

"You really don't have to apologize for Arya, Lady Sansa." Gendry said, smiling.

"Oh, I really do." Sansa insisted. "For what she was saying yesterday, for her absence when we met you at the steps of the Keep, for the uproar she caused that night. She couldn't even come to dinner tonight to make up for it, she's unbelievable, some times I swear." Sansa's eyes widened as she heard her own words back through her ears. "Oh, I'm sorry your Grace, I didm mean to-"

"Please, you don't have to apologize for everything. Arya is Arya, I was well-informed of that before you arrived. And you don't have to apologize for yourself either." He looked around and leaned in close, unsure of who could be listening or who might appear. "You and I will be family one day, it's inevitable." He smiled and leaned back into his seat. "Might as well start acting like it now."

Sansa smiled back at him. He reached for his goblet of wine and took a quick sip before turning back to Sansa. "So where is Arya tonight?" He asked, trying to make his voice sound even.

Sansa shrugged, "She'd had a bad day, to be quite honest, she hates it here. Anyway, our father said she could stay in her room for the night."

"So how far do you think she's run?" Gendry asked, making her laugh.

"She could be halfway across Westeros by now." Sansa giggled, then her smile faded. "She might've actually run. I should go check on her, actually."

Gendry nodded and Sansa stood to go, her heart hurt as she stood. She finally had a chance alone with the future King and here she was, leaving him alone at the feast, to check on her sister of all people. Then, Prince Gendry stood too.

"I'll help you search." He said. "It would not be good if we lost her again."

Sansa smiled and together they made their way from the hall when a single voice, ringing out clear above the others, stopped them.

"Sansa? Where is Sansa?" She turned to look and found the Queen perched in her chair, her eyes scanning the hall for the young Stark girl.

She turned back to the Prince, "You should go," He said. "In my experience it's best not to make her call your name a third time."

Sansa wavered, her mind stuck between the two decisions.

The Prince nodded his head back to the noise of the Hall, "Go," He said. "I'll go find Arya."

Sansa beamed up at him before scurrying back to the tall table at the front of the room. Her skirts were in a flurry around her ankles and her hands flew to fix her hair as she approached closer.

"Ah, Sansa, there you are." Queen Cersei said as Sansa stood breathlessly before her. "Come have a seat. My daughter was just telling me all about the afternoon you two spent together, I'd love for you to regale me with more stories of the North, as you've done for her."

Sansa accepted the seat next to Princess Myrcella and began to speak, checking over her shoulder one last time with a smile to see if the Prince was still at the door to the Hall. She searched for only a moment, letting her smile falter slightly, before turning back to the Queen and sharing her tale. Prince Gendry was already long gone.

It was late in the godswood when Arya finally started to feel tired. She left her room hours ago, practicing her swordplay had suddenly made the space seem so small and she'd already made a few slashes in the castle's stone walls from some over eager swings.

But out here, the air was clear and crisp, and there was endless amounts of space. And she wasn't alone out here, every tree was a challenger, every shadow an enemy waiting to be torn down. And when the wind rose up, they were ready to fight, and she was ready to fight back.

With every swing her arms felt weaker but her spirit gained strength. This is what she missed, the power that came with holding a sword. The might she felt, small as she was, when she made the tree bark splinter with her blade. She cornered in on the enemy, a small, crumpled tree in the far corner of the wood. She pretended she was Queen Nymeria conquering Dorne. She pretended she was fighting in the War of the Seven Kingdoms. She pretended she was her father, wielding Ice against those who fled their duties at the Wall.

She swung, and stopped short. Suddenly, Jon was in front of her. Jon with his raggedy black hair, Ghost was at his side, his clothes were all black like all other men of the Watch. Her breath hitched as she realized this was the last time she would see him, this little recollection here, because soon she would forget. She could feel herself forgetting already, and she hated herself for it. Had his hair always been that short? Was that how it had looked last time she'd seen him?

She shook her head and he was gone. Needle was pointed high in the air, her arms were taut and straight.

"I knew I'd find you here."

She swung around, her arms still straight as pins, and found Prince Gendry at the other end of her sword. His eyes widened and he held his hands up in front of him,

"I surrender." He said jokingly. Her arms relaxed, but only slightly. "You weren't at the feast." A statement, not a question.

"I wasn't feeling well.' She said.

Needle fell to the dirt with a small, hollow clatter and Arya crumbled with it. She wasn't crying, Arya Stark didn't cry. Instead her fingers began eagerly attacking her hair, to pull it from the semblance of a bun she'd compiled it into when she'd begun training. She threw the leather tie on the ground and let her shoulders slump forward.

"I'm sorry about earlier," She ran her fingers along the dirt as she spoke. "I shouldn't have called you a liar."

Gendry smiled down at her, thinking how she was still so young in some ways, and how neither of them was ready for what they had to face.

"That's fine. I suppose in some ways I deserved it." He said, sitting nearby, wanting to give her space. He placed his hand gingerly over the sword and waited for her nod of approval. When she gave it, he picked it up and balanced it in his hand.

"This is beautiful work." He said.

"My brother Jon had it made for me, before he left for the Wall." She explained, though she didn't offer more than that. She still felt a stab of pain in her heart at the mention of Jon.

"It's perfect for someone your size." He added, flipping the blade by the handle and offering it back to her. She accepted and placed it carefully on the ground between them again, like a line in the sand. "Dinner's over." He said. "But there'll be leftovers in the kitchens soon, if you're hungry."

She shook her head though she was quite hungry. She was also dead tired, and sweating all over from practicing for so long. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to fall asleep right there in the cool dew of the godswood. So she lay down in the dirt and the grass with Needle by her side and turned to look at Gendry.

"Tell me something." she said simply. She wasn't sure whether she wanted a story, one about the old Kings and Queens who conquered the land, or for him to tell her something about himself, she just wanted a voice.

"Okay," He said, running his fingers absentmindedly along the blade until it reached the part where it met the hem of her cloak. "One day, I was out exploring the castle. And I found a hidden passageway, nothing too fancy, it led out to the Street of Steel."

"Out behind the stables," Arya said as her eyes drifted shut. "Between the servant's entrance and the hay bales."

He smiled and shook his head. "Exactly." Of course she already knows, he thought. It had taken him twelve years to find that spot, and she'd found it in two days. "So I ran out of the castle for the day. And I ended up in Tobho Mott's shop. I remember thinking how warm it was in there. The Red Keep has always felt so cold to me. I'm not sure how they manage it."

"Winterfell's built over a hot spring." Arya said absentmindedly, her eyes fluttering shut. "Stays warm all winter."

He smiled and nodded. "Well the same cannot be said for this castle."

"So what did you do?" She asked.

"I stayed there for four days." He said.

Arya's eyes opened wide, "What?!"

"I went inside and Tobho asked me if I was the new apprentice, I lied and said I was. He was new to the city, he didn't know who I was or what Prince Gendry looked like. And I was a boy of eleven who didn't want to be stuck inside a castle all day. I tell you, when the real apprentice showed up, he was this tiny little ratlike boy, just as skinny as me, but I was a little taller, I just started swinging Tobho's hammer at him til he went running down the street. Told Tobho he was thief I'd chased away, he loved me after that."

"So what happened next?" Arya asked. "Surely someone noticed you were gone?"

"Not a one." He replied. "I returned that night, thinking selfishly, ridiculously that the whole Keep would be in an uproar."

"And?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows, suddenly fully awake.

"And no one had noticed I was gone. Not too surprising I suppose, I was just a kid at the time. All I'd missed was a day's lessons, fighting practice, and the like. Apparently the queen had made my excuses for me, saying I was sick and whatnot. I came back and every kept asking 'Oh are you feeling better, Prince Gendry?' or 'Good to see you back on your feet, your Grace.' and I was so confused. Then at dinner my father hadn't even noticed I was gone, my mother didn't ask me what I'd done that day. Everyone just carried on with their lives. So I left again after the feast and I didn't come back. After a couple of hours I got back to Tobho Mott's shop, he yelled at me for hours, threw me around a bit too. He noticed I was gone."

"That's terrible." Arya said.

"No, it was... good. I worked for him for three days, and I learned a lot, was humbled a lot. Then the Gold Cloaks showed up, they'd started searching for me that morning and found me that night. Poor old Mott didn't know what was going on, he had no idea who I really was. I thought they were going to beat him within an inch of his life."

"What happened?" Arta asked, leaning in closer.

"I stepped in the middle of them, grabbed one of my half finished swords and started swinging at the guards. Told them everything. They brought me to my father and he just laughed. Picture it, him sitting up on his Iron Throne, me, this kid with shackles around his wrists standing in front of him with three Gold Cloaks on either side."

"And what did you do?"

"I told him everything too." He said. "That I'd left, that no one, not even him, had noticed I was gone. And that I'd had more fun, learned more, done more in that shop that I'd accomplished during years stuck in the Keep."

Arya laughed, "And what did he say to that?"

"He laughed. The next day he brought Tobho Mott into the Keep, named him the King's Blacksmith, and then he made me his apprentice. I've been training with him for years now. I'm quite good, if I do say so myself. Though this," He picked up Needle and examined it again. "This is something pretty special." He handed the sword back to her and she accepted it tentatively.

"Thank you." She said.

Earlier today she'd wanted nothing more than to run, to run away from him. He was so close to her, and she'd said so much. Thinking back over the conversation in her head she still couldn't remember just what exactly had compelled her to say all those things. Normally she didn't like talking, or listening. She'd said so much in the caves and then she'd taken off. Now sitting in the godswood, hearing Gendry's stories, sitting with him, she didn't want to go off again.

His hand was warm when she took her sword from it.

"So what are you doing out here? Dinner may be over but the Feast will go on till morning."

"Your sister was worried about you," He said. "I told her I'd come find you."

"Of course she was." Arya muttered.

Sansa had probably spent the whole night complaining about her absence to Gendry, Sitting next to him, telling him about how Arya was too unladylike to sit through a proper meal, and how she never could behave right. And she'd ask him to tell her stories, but not about his days as a blacksmith, no, Sansa would be more interested in how Gendry helped King Robert handle matters of the Kingdom, the problems he himself would one day deal with when he sat on the Iron Throne. She'd ask about all the great Houses he'd met throughout the years, all the fancy parties and important guests who'd strode through the same halls they lived in now. She'd pester him with questions and bat her long eyelashes in that stupid way and let her arm rest just inches from his as they talked and talked and talked. The idea of the whole thing made Arya's stomach churn.

"So, how long did it take you to track me down?" She asked, pulling herself from the thoughts that made her queasy.

"This was the first place I checked." He shrugged.

"Really?" She asked.

"Truly." He answered. "I had a hunch about where you'd be, though I didn't expect you to be armed. I suppose I should've, your father did warn me." He said, remembering his conversation with Lord Stark the night before.

Arya's eyebrows crinkled in confusion but she shrugged it away. "Well, congratulation, you've found me." She said, standing up and smiling at the dirt rubbed in to her breeches. "And now, I think I'll go to my room. I've been down here for hours, practicing, I'm so tired." She said, as a yawn escaped her lips.

"I'll walk you up." Prince Gendry offered, rising from the ground and offering Arya a hand.

The Stark girl either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it as she lifted herself and her sword from the ground and strode right past him out of the godswood, insisting that she could walk herself.

She stopped at the entrance and turned around, "You were a terrible liar, by the way." She began. "You should really work on that." Gendry watched her, her hands fidgeting with her sword, her eyes glued to the ground in front of her. "You could practice next time I get stuck with the other girls doing their needlework. You come up with a good lie to get me out of there and we could explore again like we did today." She looked up at him.

"I could do that." He said. "I suppose I could use the practice." He smiled, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "If you'd like."

She laughed and relaxed a little, "Anything would be better than an afternoon of tea and lemon cakes."

"That would be too cruel a fate." He said.

Arya laughed and nodded, unsure of what to do next, "Alright, well, goodnight." She said, taking off immediately.

"Goodnight." Gendry said to no one. He smiled at no one, and laughed at no one. Then he turned to the Heart Tree to the small remnants of black sot handprints left on it's bark. One small, one large. He shook his head and left, walking to his own chambers. And the Godswood was still.