SO sorry for not posting for a while! I had a softball tournament and AllStars is starting and my dad's birthday and… Yeah. I've been pretty busy, so sorry for not updating in so long. But still, thanks for all the reviews and such, you guys are the best(: And sorry my chapters are so short, but when I write them on Microsoft Word they seem way longer… Well, I'll try my best to update more frequently and make the chapters longer, if anyone cares XD It should be easy, now that school's over and everything. And, just a little warning, I read a really cute romance book a few hours ago (Yes, the whole thing start to finish) so I'm contemplating putting some romance in this chapter… Let's see how this turns out!

Even after years of trying and trying and trying, Arya still couldn't sew properly to save her life. Nor could she act a lady, walk in high heels or be any less stubborn, but at the moment all she could think of was her sewing. Why can't I sew perfect, beautiful little things like Sansa had? She thought with more than a touch of irritation. When the septa came around to see her work, she was clearly shocked. Arya dearly wanted to tell her that it only made her look more like a rat with beady little eyes, but she held herself back, with no little difficulty. If she was going to be a stupid queen, why not start being nice to people now?

Because, a little voice inside her head nagged, it's no fun.

Shut up, she told it sternly, and there were no further comments made.

She looked down at her silly dress. It was blue with silver stitching, and it looked quite good on her. And she hated it. She tripped over it constantly, and kept accidentally sewing the sleeves to the fabric she'd been working on. So far her day wasn't going very well. Until she saw it.

A skinny black cat, so starved that she could see each of its ribs from twenty paces, stood on the windowsill. He looked hungry, so of course Arya had to give him something. As the cat lapped up a bowl of milk, Arya thought about her childhood, and what her life had been like before Jon Arryn had gone snooping around and gotten himself killed. She thought of Robb and Jon Snow and Rickon, Sansa and Bran, but most of all, she thought of Nymeria. She had not seen her old friend, but strange things had been happening of late. There were continued reports of wolves stalking about, getting closer and closer to King's Landing, and Arya had been having dreams. Dreams that most people didn't have… Of a pack of wolves, seeking something, or someone, and destroying all in their path to finding it. Snapping out of her reverie, she looked up to see the septa staring at her. The old woman had a look on her face, a look the clearly said What is wrong with this crazy person and why is she feeding that stupid thing? Arya bared her teeth at her, hoping that it would pass for a smile. The old crone looked away quickly.

She felt something nudging at her leg, and looked down to see the cat. It wanted something, she knew, but what? More food? It couldn't possibly still be hungry after emptying that huge bowl. The cat took a few steps toward the door, and then trotted back to Arya. Ah, she thought with amusement, apparently I am supposed to follow him. He nipped at her finger insistently, and she stood up with a sigh. Donning her cloak, she swept out of the room, nodding to the septa as she passed. She walked as if she had a clear purpose, when honestly she was confused herself. One thing she knew was that if you looked perfectly normal, no sneaking around or anything like that, people are much less likely to notice you or to suspect you of anything.

The starved little cat led her into the edges of the Kingswood, to a point where the trees were just starting become thick enough that she couldn't see the castle anymore. Arya heard howling in the distance, but oddly, she wasn't afraid. The wolves were coming closer, and fast. But Arya had nothing to fear; she wasa wolf. Not just any wolf, either, but a Stark direwolf. She was in no danger. The cat scuttled away, but Arya paid it no mind. With each passing moment she felt as if she was healing, being sewn back together. As if a piece of her had been separated, removed, for a very long time and she had grown used to it until now. But finally, her other half was joining her at last. No, not her other half. Nymeria was her. She was Nymeria.

With a leap and something that sounded curiously like a squeal, Nymeria was with her again. Finally, Arya was whole. It was time to head back to the castle. To her betrothed. It was time to go home. Winterfell would always hold a special place in her heart, but Arya had come to terms with the fact that she would never again be at home there; not after all that had happened. After all that had changed.

Arya walked barefoot into the council room, Nymeria padding alongside her, and watched as all the council member's jaws dropped. She certainly looked rather interesting, to say the least. Her short, plain blue dress went down to her knees, which was considered absurdly low in places other than the free cities. She had her long hair back in a braid, and her handmaids had woven flowers into it. Her gray eyes glinted mischievously as she watched the men's reactions. Suddenly, Gendry began to laugh. A deep-throated, happy laugh, so carefree and unexpected that soon everyone else was laughing along with him. After the moment of mirth had passed, Varys spoke up.

"My Lord, we have much more to discuss. The Dothraki are not content with our truce, we must come up with a suitable reply to King Bran about the new borders, and there is also your impending wedding, and…" He went on, but all Arya heard was his words, about the wedding. True, it was rapidly approaching, only two weeks away. Everything was happening so fast, she barely ever had any time to herself, any time to think. Her life had changed so much in the last few weeks.

She turned around abruptly and ran out of the room, her direwolf followed at her heels. The king called after her, but she ignored him. She ran and ran and ran until she couldn't run any more. She doubled over, panting and gasping for breath. Arms folding across her knees, she sat with her head against a wall, eyes closed as she calmed her racing heart. Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. She became dimly aware of a strong, warm pair of arms encircling her, but she couldn't stop her rapidly beating heart, let alone wonder who had followed her.

"Arya," a deep voice said quietly, "What happened? What's wrong?" the voice sounded worried. "What are you so afraid of?" What was she afraid of? She had faced opponents armed with nothing, had lived in an alien city completely blind, and now any mention of marriage made her fall apart. I'm afraid of being abandoned again.

Arya came to three conclusions all at once: 1) Nymeria was gone. 2) The mysterious speaker was Gendry. 3) She had spoken out loud. He had heard her.

"Wait… What? You think I'll… Leave you?" It did make sense. Everybody had left her. Her parents, her older brother and sister, Yoren and Hot Pie. Even Gendry. He had left her, and she had been stolen by the Hound, which eventually led to her arrival in Braavos. Several minutes passed where neither of them said a thing. Finally, he spoke up. "I won't. As long as you wish me to stay, I will." Arya lifted her head up to look at him, and his face was right there. They were almost touching, but neither of them pulled away. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his hand up to gently cup her face. They were both holding their breath, scared of what might happen next.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his face down to hers, until their lips met.

The kiss was sweet and shy, questioning, even, if a kiss could be called that. Arya froze, unsure what to do. Gendry moved away, confusion evident on his face. Hopping up, Arya ran (again!) out of the passage and into her chambers. What just happened? Why had he kissed her? What was going on? She felt a cold, wet nose bump her hand. Nymeria. And she had gotten her a handkerchief. How wonderful.

Arya sat and thought. And thought. And thought. Had she like kissing him? Maybe. It hadn't been horrible, at least. It was more the kind of thing Sansa would enjoy, not Arya. Did she want to kiss him again? Possibly. What was she going to do next? Most likely talk to him. And soon, before he started feeling bad and blaming himself; he wouldn't be a very good king if he felt he wasn't being chivalrous, now would he?

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA cliff hanger! (Well, my attempt at a cliffhanger.)

OK really quick I'm going to have fun and be obnoxious. This is my sad attempt at being funny:

Girls reading this are thinking: *GASP* OMG what will happen next? What will Arya do? Will she end up with Gendry and live happily ever after? *SQUEALS* Now I'm going to leave a million reviews saying to update, weeeeee!

Boys reading this are thinking: EWWW cooties! RUN AWAY!

(Not to be offensive or anything. I AM a girl, and I don't hate boys :D)

The end.

(But I will try to update ASAP. Sorry it took me so long for this chapter! Love you guys!)