AN: I just finished the whole story! YAY! I've been writing all day, and finally - 30 chapters! So I decided to post a new chapter immidiately to celebrate. Enjoy R&R

Chapter 23

Fendrel

They had been looking for Lady Stark for weeks without any luck, and the fifty men were growing tired. Fendrel, who had been assigned as the captain of guards after Jory left for the capital with Lord Stark, was starting to lose hope. However, he knew they ought not to return without any trails of Lord Bran's little sister, or they'd immediately be sent out to look for her again.

They had passed King Stannis' camp on their way to the wall, and was about to ride past it again on their way back. He had sent one of his men to speak to one of the king's guards and ask for the young Lady, but they had not seen her or her companion. So Fendrel and his men were left searching the woods for any trail of her, but neither she nor the horses Lord Commander Snow had sent with them were to be found. As they passed the King's camp, they could hear the sound of kissing steel and men shouting at each other. Whether it was for practice or a real fight, Fendrel was happy he was not a part of it. They rode until the darkness surrounded them before they made camp by a crooked tree. To everyone's dismay, they were starting to run out of food and usually ate nothing but soup and bread for every meal.

Fendrel ate his little share before putting his sleeping fur at the edge of the group. As the captain of guards, he preferred to lay closer to the luring dangers in case anyone were to attack them, but no one in their right minds would attack a company of fifty armored men. They had been left alone for the whole journey, much to Fendrels' relief.

But when he was half asleep, he awoke by a sudden sound from the woods next to them. Drawing his sword from his belt, he stepped through the snow and followed what sounded like snoring. A flicker of hope formed itself in his mind; perhaps it was Lady Arya and her friend he heard? But the idea died as quickly as it had come to him. It would almost be too good to be true.

He tip-toed through the trees, but stopped abruptly as he heard a man speak. He had a gentle voice – low, but soft, almost like a child's. Fendrel concealed himself behind a large tree trunk, his sword at ready.

"Merida, do not weep, my love. We will hide until the guards are gone. They did not see us, we are still safe."

Fendrel could hear a woman's sobs as he scooted closer to the sound. Although it was not the couple they were looking for, the man sounded as harmless as a sheep.

"Just be quiet, dear, or someone might hear us. It's a shame the wildlings killed our horse, or we could have ridden off before they noticed our presence."

The woman's sobs grew louder, and now the man was shushing her loudly to shut her up. Fendrel decided to make his acknowledge his presence and stepped out of the shadows. The woman screamed, just as the man put his hand over her mouth and strangeled it.

"He's alone," the man observed. "What do you want, knight?"

"I am no knight," Fendrel told them in a soft voice, kneeling beside them. "I am a guard of Winterfell. My men and I are searching for Lady Arya Stark and a young man in her company. Perhaps you have seen her?"

The couple exchanged looks, both nodding hesitantly. Fendrel felt his heart leap with joy. This was the closest they had ever been to finding the young lady.

"Tell me," he urged.

"In the king's camp," the woman started her voice thin. "They were to be sacrificed to the red woman's gods."

Fendrel's hope was crushed as quickly as it had lightened up. Arya Underfoot was dead -Sacrificed, none the less.

"We-"the man started, but froze, terror flickering across his face. "I mean, someone let her and the smith escape."

"Tell me more," Fendrel demanded.

The woman looked at the man. "It was in the night, scarcely a day ago. They ran on foot – to the mountains in the west. I saw them when I-"

"Do not say more, Merida!" the man snapped. The woman crumbled under his gaze.

"The mountains you say?" Fendrel stood up, eager to continue their journey.

"Please good ser, do not reveal our hiding place to anyone," the man begged. Fendrel hesitated, but nodded. He was so grateful for this new information; he could kiss them on their lips– the woman and man both.

"I will ask no questions and therefore have nothing to tell. I thank you for your honesty and wish you luck on your road ahead. Do you have a horse?"

"We had, but the wildlings killed it."

"And not you?"

The man gritted his teeth. "I killed them," he admitted. Fendrel gave the man a suspicious look, before noticing the sword fastened to his belt.

"You're a knight," he stated. The man stood up, his hand around his sword.

"I thought you were not to ask questions."

Fendrel rubbed his beard. "I did not ask, I confirmed. Not to worry, ser. Let me and my men escort you and your lady safely to Winterfell as a symbol of our gratitude. We have been searching the woods for Lady Stark and her friend. Come with us, and your lady can have a horse to ride."

The couple exchanged happy looks and embraced each other. "We would be most honored to, my friend," the knight said. Fendrel led them to the camp and ordered every guard to wake up from their sleep. The sooner they found Arya, the sooner they could return to Winterfell.

They rode for the rest of the night, searching the hills for any trails of the runaways, but found nothing. Fendrel ordered the men to split up two and two, which would give them the opportunity to cover a wider area. Ser Jarin and Merida accompanied Fendrel to the top of the mountains, and as dawn approached, they could almost see the whole way to Winterfell from there.

"Do you see them?" he asked Merida, who shook her head. The woman was not used to riding a horse, and clutched her arms around Jarin's waist to prevent herself from sliding off.

"We should search for caves," Jarin said. "That's where I would have hidden had I been traveling through the mountains."

They did as he had suggested, and studied every cave they came over for trails after the young Lady and the smith, but found nothing.

"Do you think they got further than this?" Merida asked skeptically. "They were traveling by foot and with the smith's injured leg I'm sure they didn't get very far in one night."

Fendrel had thought the same thing, and turned his horse to ride back north. "Arya!" he called, ignoring Jarin's warnings about wildlings and savages.

"Arya underfoot!" perhaps the use of her nickname would make her come out from hiding. He did not know why, but he had the feeling the runawyas were somewhere close, too scared to reveal their hiding place.

"Gendry!"

"This is Fendrel Cassel, son of Rodrik, calling for you. My men and I were sent by Lord Bran to bring you home."

No reply. Except for the echoes rooming through the mountains, the hills were completely silent.

"You need not fear me my lady. I am, and always have been, loyal to your father."

"I do not think she's here," Jarin said grimly. Fendrel sighed. Just when he had thought they were so close, but Arya's whereabouts were still a mystery. They started to ride back down when a rumble of stones caught his attention.

"Stop," he ordered the others. Jarin jerked his horse around and looked expectantly at him.

"I heard something," Fendrel told him, jumping of his horse while drawing his sword. He walked to the place where the rocks had rolled and noticed to his surprise a hidden cave impossible to see from above.

"Lady Arya?" he called. Someone moved inside, and suddenly, a mane of short, bushy brown hair peeked out from the entrance of the cave. Her eyes widened by the sight of him, and she seemed confident enough to step outside.

"Fendrel!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "Seven hells, I've never been so happy to see anyone before!"

"Where is the smith?" he asked. Arya pulled away, her face suddenly serious. He noticed a nasty cut beneath her eye and shrugged by the thought of how it had gotten there.

"His leg-"she ran back to the cave, urging him to follow. "He was carrying me through the snow when he slipped and fell to the ground. His scar were reopened – he can't move his leg." Her voice shook as she crouched down beside a lifeless person. Fendrel almost didn't recognize the man with the large scars covering half of his face, but the black hair and blue eyes were unmistakable.

"I tried to stop the bleeding, but it just won't stop," Arya choked out, tears filling her eyes. "He needs a maester as soon as possible."

The young man mumbled something Fendrel did not hear, but Arya leaned over him, her ear by his mouth. "Yes," she exclaimed happily, stroking the man's unwounded cheek. "Yes, Gendry, we're saved."

Fendrel managed to size Gendry by his torso and lift him over his shoulder as he crawled out of the cave. On the outside, Jarin stood ready to receive him and pushed the smith on top of his horse, behind Merida, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Is he okay?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"He needs a maester," Fendrel told her and lifted Arya onto his horse easily. He could feel her ribs poke out of her skin and felt a shiver down his spine. As if the girl had not been skinny before, she looked nothing but a corpse now.

They gathered the men, who all seemed lost for words by the sight of Arya, and headed home for Winterfell.

Ned

He had been in King's Landing for more than six months, and had gathered more than enough information to confirm that Gendry Waters were indeed the king's bastard. If Robert had still been alive, Ned would have asked if he even knew about the boy. But Robert had never been very honorable, and would probably not have cared if he had known. Tobho Mott had told him that an anonymous lord had paid for the boy's apprenticeship, and no matter where Ned looked, all evidence pointed toward Varys. When he had confronted the eunuch however, he had denied everything. No matter what Varys wanted with the smith, he intended to keep it a secret for now.

Ned was growing tired of the hunt that didn't seem to make any more progress, and had decided to lay it on ice for a while. He wanted to return to Winterfell and see his granddaughter – he wanted Robb to see his first born, but his son refused to go before Ned went with him.

They left King's Landing by the break of dawn. The ride would take a month, and Ned could sense his son's restlessness as he rode next to him. No matter how much he looked forward to meeting his family again, he kept thinking about Robert's bastard, and what to do with all the information he carried. He knew that the boy's mother was a commoner from Storm's end called Emeline, and suspected her relationship with Robert had started long before he ever became king. Even before Lyanna were betrothed to the eldest Baratheon son. Ned had also learned that the girl had another son – another bastard. The lad had been raised in Storm's end with his grandmother and as far as Ned was concerned, he knew nothing about his natural brother.

The boy was the rightful heir to the throne, but Ned knew what that kind of power could do to someone; he had witnessed the change in Robert himself. It was a dangerous life, full of conspiracies and politics, and Ned doubted the young smith wanted any part of it. But he had the right to know, and Ned would tell him when the time was right. Perhaps the boy could be legitimized and have a castle of his own to rule. But one needed a king to legitimize a bastard, and neither Joffrey nor Stannis nor Renly would ever risk their position as a king to make a low-born bastard a lord. No, Ned suspected his journey to the capital had all been in vain; when neither Emeline nor Robert was alive, no one could prove that Gendry really was their son. Despite the obvious evidence of his appearance, Ned was afraid he had nothing useful.

If only Robert had still been alive, Ned could have told him that Cercei's children were not his, and that his rightful heir was hitting anvils in some forge. But the Robert that sat on the iron throne would probably not have given a shit about his bastard. After beheading Cercei and Jaime both, and sending their children away, he would have gotten drunk and fucked another whore – bringing yet another bastard into this world. But then who would have inherited the iron throne after his death? Ned decided that anyone were better suited as a king than King Joffrey.

They had ridden for half a day when they were stopped by a group of gold cloaks. Weary, Ned forced his horse forward to speak with them.

"What brings the city watch so far from King's landing?" he asked, although he had his suspicions.

"The king wants a word with you, lord Stark," one of the men said. "We are to bring you back to the capital immediately."

Ned nodded. He had seen this coming, although he doubted it was the king that wanted to speak to him. No, it all reeked of Cersei.

"I will of course return at once if that is the king's wish," Ned said.

"Father!" Robb's horse approached him in quick gallop. "I'll come with you."

Ned could see the terror across his son's face. He was a clever boy, Robb. He too must have anticipated that they would not be left in peace after digging into the old king's early years.

"No, Robb. It is me they want. Go home while you have the chance. Go home to your daughter."

Robb shook his head determinedly. "I am not leaving without you," he said stubbornly. Ned smiled and squeezed his son's shoulder.

"Don't worry, son. I have done nothing wrong – they cannot convict me for anything. I'll only be a few days behind you. Take your men and return to Winterfell. Your wife has been much too long without you already."

"What about your wife?" Robb asked through clenched teeth.

Ned forced a smile. "Go, Robb. That's an order."

Jory and a couple of other men followed Ned and the gold cloaks back to King's Landing, while Robb continued his journey homewards with the other half of the guards.

Although he knew what was coming for him, Ned was not afraid. The important thing was that his family was safe – that was the only thing that truly mattered.