I've still got a lot of chapters to post, but I really struggle with the ending and suffer from a massive writers block... which sucks, because then I can't update as often as I'd like. But anyways, here's the next chapter!

Chapter 18

Arya

"We should hide," Gendry said when they reached the village outside Castle Black. "The wildlings might be in the woods."

Arya frowned. "We can't hide in the village though, that would be too foolish. I say we ride until dawn, if someone does come after us, at least we'll be ahorse and then we have a chance of outriding them."

"Shouldn't we warn the villagers?" Gendry asked.

Arya bit her lip and nodded. "Stay here, I'll do it."

She knew he was about to object, but she shot him a determined look, and he fell silent. "Stay with Gendry," she told Nymeria, knowing Gendry would be helpless if someone was to attack him. Although he had both a sword and a hammer, he had small chances of escaping anyone on his wounded leg.

Arya jumped off her horse and ran to the nearest house where she knocked on her door with all her might. "Wildling attack at Castle black!" she yelled from the top of her lungs. "EVERYBODY WAKE UP, THERE'S A WILDLING ATTACK AT CASTLE BLACK!"

An old man appeared in the doorway, his face bewildered. "Wildlings, you say? Is this a jape?"

"No, it's true! You need to warn the rest of the village. You have to be ready in case they come here." But the man simply snorted and shot the door in her face, muttering something about 'immature fools not letting a man sleep at night'.

Arya sighed and ran to another house, repeating her words. She ran from house to house until finally a young lady took her words seriously, and helped her wake the rest of the village. By the time Arya felt she could leave, dawn was on the edge of breaking. Gendry sat ahorse, fast asleep.

"Gendry!" she said, nudging him. The blacksmith awoke with a startle and looked around, his sword drawn.

"Let's proceed," Arya told him, climbing onto her horse.

If there were wildlings in the woods, Arya and Gendry never saw anyone and were left alone for the rest of the morning. When midday came, Arya found herself recognizing the surroundings, and she felt a strange feeling of longing jolt through her.

"Are we truly going back to Winterfell, or did you only say so to make your brother happy?" Gendry asked.

Arya sighed. "I'd never lie to Jon. I guess it's about time we return home and face my mother."

Gendry cleared his throat. "Are you going to tell her? I mean, about me?"

Arya could imagine what her mother would say about her relationship with Gendry. Her disapproving voice echoed in her ears. 'He's only a blacksmith'. But Gendry was so much more than a smith. He was kind, and good, brave and strong, and he understood her like no one else did.

"Yes," she said confidentially, meeting his eyes. "Why, would you rather I did not?"

Gendry snorted back a laugh. "To be honest, I do not know. Your mother frightens me."

Arya let out a thrill of laughter, forgetting everything about her worries for Jon and the other knights back at the Wall. Gendry was right, Catelyn could be rather terrifying.

"If she does not approve, which I'm sure she won't, we'll just run away again," she said, smiling.

Gendry however, did not find this amusing. "Your brother is right, you know. The woods are much too dangerous; it's not safe for a lady and a smith to travel alone."

She sighed, knowing he was right, again. Gendry usually were. What he lacked in swordfight, he made up for in common sense. Why did he have to be so damn sensible all the time?

"Fine. Then I'll just have to convince my mother that Dickon is not a proper match for me," she said stubbornly.

They rode for several hours until their stomachs twisted with hunger and their eyelids grew heavy.

"We have to stop," Arya said, struggling to keep herself awake. "The horses need to rest."

Nymeria led them to a hollow tree, where they found shelter for the night. Arya handed Gendry a piece of dried horsemeat and ate the last herself. They would need to gather more food in the morrow.

They sat cramped together inside the hollow tree, Gendry with his arm around Arya's shoulder. She was so tired she couldn't even talk and fell asleep on his shoulder within minutes, breathing in his familiar scent.

They rode for three days before they caught a glimpse of a group of people from the hill they were camping on for the night.

"I counted seventeen," Gendry said, staring down at the party; they had put up tents and lit fires where they could boil soup and grill meat. He felt his stomach growl by the thought of real food, and suggested they rode down to meet them at once, but Arya shook her head.

"It will take us hours to reach them. By the time we're there, they'll be fast asleep. The horses need rest. We can ride down early in the morrow."

"Are you sure they're from Winterfell? I see no banner."

Arya narrowed her eyes, gazing through the twilight. "Who else would it be?"

"We should take a closer look before we reveal ourselves," Gendry said stubbornly. Arya sighed, but finally agreed.

"We'll wait until they fall asleep, that way the horses can rest for a few hours."

Gendry pushed his hair out of his eyes. "They'll have someone awake and alert at all times. We won't be able to come close to the camp without being noticed."

Arya bit her lip, staring down at the group. "Unless…" her voice trailed off and her eyes widened in amusement. She turned toward him, deciding whether to tell him about her wolf dreams or not.

"There's something you don't know…" she started, rubbing her neck. Gendry turned to her and gave her an apprehensive look.

Arya took a deep breath. "I sometimes enter Nymeria's mind," she blurted out, cursing the stupidity of her formulation. Gendry snorted with laughter, but his smile died when he saw her serious expression.

"What do you mean?" he asked skeptically.

"When you were attacked by those wildlings, I was there," she told him. Gendry shook his head, his lips twitching.

"You're tired, Arya. You should sleep."

Arya crossed her arms and scowled at him. "I'm serious, Gendry. I saw the whole thing! I attacked those wildlings. It wasn't Nymeria, well, it was, but it was really me!"

"You know what you're saying is madness, right? Go to sleep, you obviously need it."

Arya stood up. "I knew I shouldn't tell you. I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Wait, Arya-" Gendry called after her, but Arya was already running through the snow, as far away from him as possible. She knew he couldn't follow on his leg, and hoped he didn't have the sense to take one of the horses. She had confessed her deepest secret, and he didn't believe her. He, her rock, her best friend. If Gendry didn't take her word for her dreams, who would?

"Arya," she could hear him shout as loud as he dared, but she refused to turn around. She stopped by a fallen tree, and crawled beneath it, trapped between the trunk and the snowy ground. He wouldn't find her here. She could come out whenever she felt like it. But right now, she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

With a little whimper, she took several deep breaths, and for the first time in what felt like years, she finally released the tears that had been building up ever since she left Winterfell.

Bran

They were seated around the table in the great hall, eating breakfast, when maester Luwin came with a note for Bran. As he unrolled the piece of paper, Catelyn, Rickon an Talla all stared apprehensively at him.

"It's from Jon," Bran told them. "There was a wildling attack at Castle Black, so he had no choice but to send Arya on her way."

Catelyn gasped. "Is Arya out there by herself? How could he do such a thing? One can expect nothing more from a-"

Bran frowned and cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence. "The blacksmith is with her. Mother, calm down, he did the right thing. Besides, our men can't be that far from the wall by now, Arya'll find them."

"Oh, Bran, you know as well as I do that when she gets the chance, she'll take off again. Your bastard brother served her an escape on a silver platter. She's not coming back, not yet."

Bran clutched the letter in his hand, curling it into a ball. She was right. Unless Arya wanted to return, she would find a way to avoid the guards and travel to gods know where.

"Is there still no word from Robb?" Talla asked, stroking her still growing stomach. She was seven months pregnant now, and was getting more and more afraid that her husband wouldn't get home in time.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Bran told her earnestly, secretly hoping the lack of news where good news.

Catelyn rose to her feet. "That is it. Maester Luwin, have Thydor prepare a horse for me. I'm going north!"

"Mother, is that really a good idea? You just returned. Talla needs you when the baby comes. And we hardly have any men left to spare."

Catelyn crossed her arms and looked down at him with a stubborn expression on her face. An expression he had witnessed so many times before in the faces of his sisters. "She is my daughter, Bran. Do you expect me to sit by quietly as she makes another foolish escape?"

Bran had a suspicion of why their mother wanted to take off so suddenly; not only to bring Arya back, but to prove that his previous statement was not true. That Arya was not in love with a bastard smith. "I did not want to do this, but you leave me no choice," Bran said in a calm voice. "Mother, as the head of Winterfell I command you to stay put. You shall not leave the castle walls – you will help Talla through the last months of her pregnancies, and when Arya do return, you shall accept her wish and decline the proposal from the Tarly's."

Catelyn stood speechless for a moment, her mouth open. "Brandon," she finally uttered. "I am your mother-"

"Which makes this even harder to do," Bran stated.

"You can't make me stay, boy. I am the Lady of Winterfell, you have no authority of me!"

Bran crossed his arms, meeting her gaze. "Don't I? As I recall, with both father and Robb gone, I am in charge of this castle and I can make you do whatever I please."

"But-"

"Sit down and finish your meal mother," he ordered her, ignoring her deathly stare. Talla and Rickon sat in silence, watching them with wide eyes. "By the end of the day you will have sent a raven to the Tarly's and explained to them that Arya has no desire to marry their son. Is that understood?"

Catelyn clenched her jaw, looking positively furious, but nodded stiffly.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he left the hall, and found himself breathing nervously. He had always been an obedient child, and never rebelled in any way. Until now. Would his mother ever forgive him?

Arya

She had believed the fallen tree concealed her perfectly, but knew her cover was ruined when she heard steps through the snow drawing nearer and nearer.

"Go away, Gendry," she told him, but she could hear him crouching down beside him. "I want to be alone!"

He said nothing as he reached out and seized her elbow. "Leave!" she snapped, pulling away. Suddenly, his strong hands grabbed her arm and pulled her out from under the trunk. She fought against his grip, struggling to break free as he yanked her into his arms, his hand wrapped around her waist. Her feet left the ground, and she kicked and punched to get back down.

"LET GO OF ME!" she commanded. She tried to turn to meet his eyes, but his grip was too tight. "Gendry, this isn't funny, you're hurting me."

He had never been so rough before. Whenever they wrestled, he would hold back his strength to prevent himself from harming her. This was not like him.

"Put me down this instant!"

When the man holding her sniggered in a deep, hoarse voice, she knew it wasn't Gendry. This was someone who didn't have her best interest in mind.

"Who are you?" she asked, reaching for her dagger, but remembered she had left it in her satchel back with her horses. The man put his large hand over her mouth.

"Quiet, girl," he told her. Arya wanted to protest, to tell him she was a boy, but his hand choked back all sound. She made one last attempt to wriggle free, but the man was too strong. He had caught both her fist in his left hand, and jerked her over the back of a horse.

"The king will want to meet you, sweetling," the man whispered into her ear as he tied a rope around her hands. Arya tried to kick his head, but he ducked away, a nasty grin plastered on his bearded face.

"GENDRY!" she yelled from the top of her lungs. The man hurried to put a piece of cloth into her mouth. "Nymeria," she tried, but the sound where muffled by the cloth. Where were her wolf men she needed her? Something must have happened; Nymeria wouldn't let something happen to her unless she was hurt!

She was positively paralyzed by the ropes when the man mounted his horse and rode through the trees, further and further away from Gendry. Arya felt her throat thicken. She had faced danger before, but she had always had someone by her side. Now, she was alone and helpless.

What do you think?