Okay so... Here's my plan: I'm going to do a few more chapters of this and then wrap it up, giving it a satisfying ending, and then I'm going to move onto my other stuff I think. Sound good?

Winterfell was on fire. The entire world was on fire. The sky bled red hot, glowing like a freshly forged sword, smoke beating upwards in droves. The flames spit and roared, the sound of their crackling tongues mixing with the screams of the smallfolk as they ran, terrified. And it wasn't just the fire they were afraid of. Winterfell was under attack.

Arya ran from her room, sword drawn and heart in her throat, beating wildly in panic. Outside the walls of the castle she could hear the terror. The screams and shouts. Some were of pain and death, while others were of battle.

She ripped into the yard and into chaos, whipping around frantically, searching. Her eyes went to the forge, but there was no one there.

"GENDRY!" She screamed. "GENDRY!"

Riders dressed in black flooded the yard, riding horses that shown as dark as coal. They were like phantoms, drawing their swords and cutting down whatever was in their path. Arya felt panic choking and grasping at her throat. What if they've already gotten him?

"Arya!"

She spun around to see him running towards her, hammer in hand, and she reached out to him, running as well. She scrambled towards him, hand outstretched in desperation, running across the yard-

The axe swung out of no where. One minute he was running towards her, and the next he was doubling over, making terrible gurgling noises, retching in pain, and then he was falling... Falling... The axe buried in his gut, his blood spilling over his hands...

"NO!" She screamed. "NO! NOOOOOO!"

But her cries were useless. Everything was useless. She ran to him, but it mattered not. She did not reach him in time. By the time she collapsed beside him, the life had left his eyes and they were nothing but empty rooms, where once, only seconds ago, they had been wide awake with life.

She screamed in anguish, her body growing cold with disbelief. This couldn't be happening, she thought, sobs catching at her throat, tears spilling from her face and onto his, though he felt them not.

There was a scream.

Lawna.

Arya's terror was paramount. She leapt to her feet, her sword drawn, her heart squeezed so tight that she could not breathe. And then it stopped beating all together.

The little girl was being dragged from the forge, kicking and screaming, crushed in the arms of one of the faceless knights. And then, out of no where, a sword was drawn.

No.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Arya screamed, her lungs raw. "NO! LAWNA! NO!"

It was as if all the sound in the world had been sucked away. As if time had slowed. She tried to run, but she could not. The sword was lifted high in the air, the steel gleaming in the heat and light of the fire, and then it was cutting down... Down... Down...

The little girl fell like a doll made of straw.

Arya screamed again.

And then there was a jolt, and hers eyes snapped open.

She was lying in her bed, her heart racing, her entire body shaking. Her skin was soaked with sweat and crawling, and she felt queer. She tried to take deep, shallow breaths, forcing herself to be calm. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

Unable to stand the sweltering heat of her bed, she ripped the covers back and stood.

And then she screamed again.

There, on the bed, was a stain of crimson blood.

The door banged open, and Sansa rushed in, her face all concern, but when she caught sight of the blood, the color drained from her face.

"Get the maester!" She shouted at the servants. "NOW!"

Arya's head began to swim and her knees felt weak. Her stomach felt sick as well.

"No," she groaned, feeling dizzy, her hand clutching at her stomach. "No."

"Arya," Sansa's face was swimming before her. "Come here. Sit down. Don't overexcite yourself."

"The baby," Arya said dully, and she could feel tears stinging in her eyes.

"What's going on?"

That was Jon's voice. And then there was a gasp. He must have seen the blood.

"I'm sorry," Arya said meekly as the world tilted and spun. "I'm sorry."

And then she remembered Gendry.

"I must see Gendry," she said, getting up and stumbling. "He needs to know. I must see Gendry."

"Sit back down!" Sansa's voice was harsh and Arya felt her hands force her gently back down into the chair.

"Arya, I'll send for him-"

"No!" She cried, suddenly feeling panicked. What if it hadn't been a dream? What if he was really hurt? Or dead, with an axe in his stomach? "NO! I've got to... Gendry... I must see him!"

"She needs to be calm," this was another voice. The maesters voice. "I'll give her a sleeping draft."

"No!" She shrieked. "Gendry! I must see Gendry!"

She felt hands forcing her head back.

"Arya please," Jon's voice was gentle and pleading, but she thrashed all the same, a foul tasting liquid slipping past her lips and down her throat.

The draft must have been strong, because already she felt her senses dull, the world slowly beginning to turn dark and fuzzy, her eyes blinking closed.

"Tell him..." she heard herself say weakly. "Tell him I tried to stop it... I didn't want... I ran to her... But there were too many of them and the flames were too hot..."

And with that she slid into blackness.

Arya dreamt of blood. The sky bled. The clouds oozed red, dripping like rain, and all Arya could think of was that she would be drowned in it. And again the scene played where Winterfell was burning, and the faceless knights rode in, and once again she was helpless, crying out in vain.

And then she was awake with a jolt.

The room was dark, the shutters were closed, but Arya could tell that she had slept the day away, and that night had fallen. She felt strange. Her body hurt and her head felt foggy and her tongue tasted thick and salty in her mouth.

And then she remembered.

Tears began to leak out of her eyes. Oh no, she thought, oh no. The baby. And there had been a pool of blood... The baby. She had lost the baby.

She gave a deep, shuttering breath and a low whimper escaped her throat as it became coated with saliva, her tears pouring out of her eyes in earnest as she began to weep. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

She reached up to wipe the tears from her face, when she realized she couldn't. Thick, rough fingers were entwined with hers, holding her hand in a gentle yet firm grip.

She rolled her head over to see Gendry, sitting next to the bed in a great, probably very uncomfortable chair. One of his arms was curled onto the bed, and his head rested atop it, so that he was leaning over, fast asleep. He must have been there a long time.

Gendry.

"Oh no," she whispered aloud, tears starting to make everything blurry, shimmering in her eyes and coating her face in sticky rivers. He would be so disappointed.

"Arya."

She hadn't even noticed him stir, but suddenly he was awake, and his fingers were stroking her hair, and she wished he'd stop being so nice to her because it was all her fault and she couldn't stand it.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, looking away.

"It's all right," Gendry said softly.

"No, it's not," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "This is all my fault."

"Arya, I don't blame you," Gendry said softly. "I lost my temper too. I should have known better than to make you so upset."

Arya blinked.

"But the baby," she said. "I didn't want... I didn't... I..."

And then she was squeezing her eyes shut, crying again.

"Arya," Gendry's voice sounded extremely concerned. "Arya I thought you knew... Arya look at me."

She shook her head.

"Please."

She turned and then opened her eyes to find Gendry smiling. Why was he smiling? Was he mocking her?

"Arya," he said gently. "You didn't lose the child."

"I didn't?" she repeated stupidly. "But there was blood..."

"Yes," he said, and the smile slid from his face, "there was. And... The maester is concerned. He says you shouldn't leave this room for a while."

"A while?" Arya repeated, a strange mixture of happiness, relief and annoyance clashing inside her. "I have to stay in bed-"

"Don't start," Gendry said, his tone full of warning. "Please."

Arya frowned.

"I have some self control, you know," she said, feeling shaky and confused. There were too many emotions flashing around inside her, changing too quickly, and she felt dizzy and anxious.

Gendry must have noticed, because he sighed, and she felt him rub his rough thumb against the top of her hand in a reassuring way.

"You slept a long time," he said softly.

"Yes," she said with a frown. "What time is it?"

"Some time in the night I suppose," Gendry sighed, running a hand over his unshaven face.

"Where's Lawna?" she asked, all anxiety again. Gendry gave her a wary smile.

"In Sansa's room," he said.

"In... Sansa's room?" Arya repeated, sure she had misheard him. Gendry chuckled.

"I know," he said. "She looked as happy about it as Sansa did, but... It looked like you weren't going to wake up for a while, and I didn't want to leave you alone. Jon said you were really upset..."

Arya felt stupid. She had thrown quite a fit earlier, and it was nothing to be proud of, her going to pieces like that.

"You didn't have to stay," she said, her cheeks inflamed. Gendry frowned.

"Yes I did," he said as though it were obvious. "Of course I did. The pack stays together, remember?"

She did remember. She remembered Gendry bending the knee to the Brotherhood. She remembered him leaving her. But you left him, she thought. And he came back. And he's never left since. Now I'm the one that's always leaving.

"Could you stay?"

Arya sounded so small just then, even to herself. But, in the past several hours, it had felt like every one of her nightmares, all buried in the back of her mind, had suddenly come forth in one raging torrent. She had not been this afraid in a long while, and it left her trembling. She hated it, to feel small and weak. But Gendry makes me feel strong, she thought softly, looking over his face, when I cannot find my own strength, I find strength in him.

"Of course," he said with a frown, as though she had somehow wounded him in assuming that he would leave. She pulled his hand close, cradling it to her.

"Come lie next to me," she said, wiggling slightly, very careful not to hurt her stomach. Gendry did as he was told, looking very unsure about the whole thing. "This might be the only time we ever get to share a featherbed."

He chuckled, curling into her, their faces close to one another. And then he began to sing.

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword.

Arya laughed softly and curled her nose with distaste.

"You're a terrible singer," she said. "And do you know how the rest of the song goes?"

"Of course," Gendry said, a flicker of his stubborn expression flashing across his face.

And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree,

She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.

"No featherbed for me," Arya repeated.

"No," Gendry said. "Only straw cots."

There was a long silence as they both lay there, trapped in different worlds, left to their own swirling thoughts.

"Do you remember... That was the first time I ever saw you look like a little lady," Gendry spoke up at last. Arya sighed.

"I was never very fond of dresses," she said. "And you practically tore that one to shreds."

Gendry frowned.

"Not without provocation," he said, "and as I recall, I got a clout about the head for it."

Arya grinned.

"Don't look so pleased about it," he snapped, but he looked amused all the same, and she knew that he was biting back a smile. I miss this, she thought to herself. I miss arguing with him without really arguing. Everything's so much more complicated now.

"I didn't mean to upset Lawna," she said. Gendry sighed.

"I know," he admitted. "You were probably just trying to help."

"I was," Arya said earnestly. "I thought that it would be nice, to teach her sewing. I thought that now that I'm a... Such a..."

"Fearless warrior?" Gendry teased. She rolled her eyes.

"I thought they wouldn't say anything," she said.

"They always say something," Gendry said darkly. "Just because you ride away before you can hear it doesn't mean they don't say it."

Arya looked down at her stomach and sighed.

"I've left you with a lot, haven't I?" She said in a very small voice.

"I left you once," Gendry said, and though his tone was gruff, she knew that he bitterly regretted it. "When you needed me more than I need you now."

"I don't want to leave anymore," she whispered, and it was true.

I just don't know if I can stop.

Love every single one of your comments. Just in case you were worried that Arya's dream might be a vision of the future or something, it's not. It just shows the terrors she's been through and her fear that they might happen again, despite her pushing away said fear. I know that someone wanted a Bran chapter, and I might do that later.