Heyy people just thought I would clear something up… If you are some creepy pervert who only reads my fanfiction story for Arya/Gendry "adult" things… Well, this is not going to be rated M, so, as an ASoIaF character would say, go bugger yourself! XD

Arya knew exactly where Gendry went after their, ahem, misunderstanding. She headed straight to the smithy, and was not surprised to find him hammering at the metal as if trying to flatten it. Completely immersed in what he was doing, he did not notice she had come in. After waiting for a few minutes for him to turn around and see her, she decided to send in Nymeria. She walked up, pushed at his legs with her head, and with a thump and a quiet exclamation of surprise there was a much undignified, very disgruntled king sitting on the ground. Arya snickered at the ridiculous look on his face. Just because she was there to make him feel better didn't mean she was going to be nice.

"Hey," she said casually, "what are you doing on the ground?"

"What am I doing on the..! Being shoved over by your pet, that's what I'm doing!"

"That sounds very entertaining, but wouldn't you rather stand up?" Blushing, he stood quickly and brushed off the dirt from his clothes.

"Listen," he began, "about earlier…"

"Don't mention it," Arya said gruffly, "if we're going to be… married,"-she grimaced- "Then there's going to be a lot more than that going on." Gendry's face reddened even more, if that was even possible. Arya wasn't too excited about that part of being married either.

Waking up in the morning with a hand covering your mouth is not a pleasant feeling. Especially if, right after putting your hand over your mouth, they throw your sword out the window, gag you and stuff you in a sack. Although it is very satisfactory if you manage to bite them hard enough to make them bleed.

But it hurts, as Arya soon learned, when a person hits you on the head with the flat of their blade. It can even knock you out for several hours. Long enough for you to be taken out of your home with your captors telling passerby's you are just the dirty laundry.

It truly was a beautiful sight. There was a sparkling waterfall, green grass, even a bright yellow sun and no clouds in the sky. It would be prefect, if only it wasn't just a painting. In a room with no windows, just four blank walls and a ceiling. Even the door was bolted shut. She took this as a complement. Obviously her kidnappers were frightened she would murder them in their sleep and run off, or something like that. But she knew that wouldn't happen unless they had been stupid enough to steal Needle and put it in the room with her. Unfortunately, Arya never had been that lucky. She had never been lucky at all.

Twice a day the door was opened and a small boy with auburn hair would bring in her food and leave. He never said a word. Any of the times Arya tried to speak to him he would glance at her and put a finger to his lips. He must have been commanded not to speak to her. He couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. His eyes were what intrigued her the most. They were blue, and startlingly familiar. He mouthed a word, "Wait". Wondering what he meant, Arya drifted back to sleep.

She dreamed that night. She dreamt of her time at Harrenhal, back when she was Nan the cupbearer. She dreamt of her time in Braavos and of the House of Black and White. She awoke drenched with sweat and felt as if she was burning up. She drifted in and out of sleep for what seemed like years but was only several hours. A woman came in and felt her forehead and made her drink some vile-tasting liquid. Was she sick? Arya did not know. It seemed like so much time had passed. She wondered if anyone remembered her, back where she had come from. Where had she come from? Arya couldn't remember. Who was Arya? Well, she would worry about that later. Her identity didn't seem like such an important thing at all.

When the woman from earlier came back in, she sponged Arya's forehead gently. Drifting in and out of sleep, she was dimly aware that she dumped a huge bucket of ice-cold water all over her. She wanted to jump up and yell at the stupid woman, but she hadn't the strength. Come to think of it, she couldn't move at all, and hadn't for the longest time. That couldn't be healthy.

Arya heard a commotion coming from just outside her door. With quite a bit of effort she found she could move her arms and legs. She stood and almost fell over immediately. After walking in circles for several minutes, she could almost walk like normal. She started pounding on the door. When the door swung inwards it almost knocked her over, so weak was she.

"Whadayou want?" an extremely scratchy and irritating man's voice said.

"To get out of this stupid place!" Arya replied angrily.

He chuckled. Chuckled! At her! "You ain't gettin' out of here just yet. Not 'till yer stupid king pays yer ransom."

"What was that noise?"

"What noise? The one just then… Well… It wasn't me falling on me rump it wasn't, no sirree! It only happened four times, and not since that one day…" He slammed and latched the door, leaving Arya alone once again.

When next she heard a noise, she thought he had fallen on his rump again, hopefully off of a cliff, but sadly, it was not to be. After several minutes of clanging and waiting, she heard her name. A man called her, but it wasn't scratch-voice rump-faller man, it was someone she didn't know.

"In here!" she called out. After all, this could be her only way to escape. Soon enough the door opened and her savior handed her a huge sword. It was awkward to carry and half her size, but she thought she could use it if she absolutely had to. Which she didn't.

Leading her through a maze of twists and turns, the man did not say a word. Arya was sick of silence, but was afraid her voice would carry to unfriendly ears. Eventually they emerged from the maze to a clearing. With people. Actual people! It seemed too good to be true to poor Arya Stark, who had been captured and imprisoned with no one to talk to for days, if not weeks.

A person stepped out from behind a small group of armed men. A small, feminine person, with blue eyes and long auburn-colored hair.

A person Arya had presumed dead, or as good as.

Someone she had never thought to see again.

Sansa.

Dun dun dunnnnnn! PS please review! Yesterday I saw a horrible fic, it really was terrible, and it had over a hundred reviews, and I must say, that is pretty discouraging. So please review!