Chapter 25

Bran

They were all gathered in the great hall, waiting expectantly. If Fendrel's letter had been correct, the company would return tonight. Catelyn had invited every inhabitant of WInterfell to come celebrate with them, and the atmosphere was happier than in a long time. Bran caught a glimpse of Mikken and Myra as he rolled his way through the crowd and to his seat at the high table. They were dressed in their finest garments and sat alone, talking with no one but each other. They're nervous, Bran realized. Perhaps they blamed themselves for Gendry's disappearance.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" one of the servants asked, holding up a silver jug.

"No, thank you," Bran replied, keeping his eyes on the crowd beneath. They were all drinking, laughing and singing. He could not remember ever seeing the people of Winterfell so happy since the night of Robb's wedding. Glancing at his mother, he saw that she was fidgeting with her hands clasped in her lap.

"Mother, would you care to join me on the balcony? Mayhaps we can catch a glimpse of them as they ride over the hills."

Catelyn turned to him, her lips twisting into a small smile. "Thank you, Bran," she whispered and followed him as he rolled through the great hall.

"What if they encountered any dangers on the way?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her waist to shield herself from the cold night.

"Don't worry, mother. They will be here, I can feel it."

Except for the muffled noise from the great hall, the night was completely quiet.

"Have you declined her betrothal to Dickon yet?" asked Bran. Catelyn rubbed her neck uncomfortably.

"You haven't!" his voice was much harsher than he had meant it to be, but he was so dejected he was unable to control his anger. "You do realize that is the reason she ran away in the first place, don't you? If she learns that you still mean for her marrying Dickon, she won't stay long before she takes off again."

"Perhaps some part of me hopes she has had a change of heart on her journey," Catelyn replied quietly.

"It's Arya."

Sighing, Catelyn sat down on the stone bench underneath the diamond shaped window. "I ought to force her into that marriage, just like I was when I was her age. This runaway of hers was folly and she ought not to get her way because of it."

"Your persuasion might have worked on Sansa, but Arya is much more stubborn. You have already ruined one of your daughter's lives, isn't that enough?"

He could have punched himself for uttering those last words. Although it was true, he had not intended to bring it up. Especially not now when Arya would return in a matter of hours. Catelyn stared at him, gaping.

"How dare you?" she hissed through grinded teeth. "I am your mother and you ought not to speak to me like that!"

"I'm simply telling the truth," Bran said. "Sansa wanted to marry Jory – she loved him, but you made her throw that love away for a castle. I refuse to stand by and watch you do the same with Arya."

"If you believe I will let my youngest daughter marry some blacksmith you are mistaken!"

"Then prepare yourself for a life without Arya, because she will not marry Dickon, and if you try to force her to do anything against her will, she will run away again."

Catelyn's face turned pale and without another word, she turned in her place and stomped back into the castle. Bran sighed and turned back to look over the hills surrounding the castle. He stared until his eyes turned watery, but not even then did he see the group of guards bringing his sister back home. He was about to return inside when a flickering light caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he saw it again – dancing through the woods. It was them! It had to be them!

His heart leapt of joy as he rolled back to the great hall and bellowed from the top of his lungs, "I saw them! They are here! I saw them on the hill!"

The great hall fell silent and every eye was looking at him. "Well, let's go greet them in the yard!" someone shouted. The crowd moved toward him like a flock of sheep, and Bran had to swing his chair away not to get trampled down. He saw his lady mother emerging the stairs and joining the inhabitants. Obviously, she had heard what he had shouted all the way to her chamber. Rickon and Talla exited the great hall last, arm in arm. Ever since Rickon and Catelyn's return, Talla had grown very fond of the youngest Stark and thought he reminded her of Dickon, her little brother. They waited in silence until a guard in the watch tower announced the group's arrival. Bran looked over at Myra, who was clutching her husband's arm expectantly, her expression a mixture of worry and excitement.

As the north gate opened, and a long line of riders entered, the crowd waiting started cheering. Bran rolled onto a plateau to get a better look, and when he caught a glimpse of his big sister, his heart stopped. He did not recognize her at first; her hair was cut short and she was even skinnier than she had been before she left, but when she looked at him, her big gray eyes meeting his, he was in no doubt. Arya was back!

Arya

She had barely gotten her foot on the ground when she was surrounded by people, all trying to pull her into a tight embrace. Tip-toeing she tried to see over the crowd, but in vain; the people around her pulled her down, asking loud questions.

"Let her breath," a familiar voice said. Arya looked down and saw her baby brother approaching her, fighting his way through the crowd. "Rickon!" she hurried toward him, shoving away the people blocking her path.

"I've missed you," he told her, wrapping his arms around her. She was amazed to see how much he had grown over the past few months. Dorne had obviously been good to him.

"You're taller than me now!" she exclaimed, just as someone else pulled her into a bone crushing hug. Arya looked up and saw Syrio- she had not even realized how much she had missed him until now.

She could see her mother run toward her, arms wide open. Biting her lip, Arya ran into her harms, burying her face in her mother's auburn hair.

"My child," Catelyn cried. "My reckless, stubborn little girl, I have been so scared." As they broke apart, Catelyn cupped Arya's chin and studied her face. "What happened to your cheek?" she asked.

Arya felt her throat thicken, but before she even got the chance to reply, a voice pierced through the air.

"Arya!"

Spinning around, she saw Bran rolling to them. She reluctantly pulled out of her mother's embrace and ran to him. "I'm so sorry," she told him as she bent down to hug him.

"It's okay," he assured her. "The important thing is that you are safe!"

It felt like all she did all night was hug and smile and cry. Everybody wanted to hear about her adventure, and Arya tried to answer everyone as politely as she could, although all she wished to do was to lock herself inside her chamber and sleep for the rest of her year. She tried to catch a glimpse of Gendry, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The maester's steward, Phillip, was the one tending her wounds as maester Luwin was busy with Gendry's more severe injuries. When the feast started, Arya asked Bran where they had taken Gendry, but when she stood up to go to him, her mother gave her a stern look.

"The people of Winterfell have been expecting you all night, the least you can do is honor them with your presence."

"Mother-"

"You will not be allowed to watch as maester Luwin fix your friend. You are more use here than you are there."

But Arya was done taking orders. Gendry was in pain right now, and he needed her there, no matter what her mother said.

"He's more than my friend, mother," she hissed and hurried through the great hall. She could feel everyone's eyes upon her, but ignored them. At some point, they had to accept that she was not an ordinary lady.

She ran to the forge. Even before she entered through the door, she could hear Gendry's agonizing groans. Myra and Mikken were seated in the kitchen, holding hands. When Myra saw her, she hurried to wipe the tears away and bid her a polite smile. Arya wasted no time and crossed the floor to Gendry's chamber in a matter of seconds.

"Lady Stark!" Maester Luwin gasped as she entered. "You ought not to be here."

Arya ignored his words and crouched down on the floor next to Gendry's straw bed. "I'm here," she assured him and took his hand in hers. He looked at her, his face covered in sweat.

"Hey," he breathed, forcing a smile. "We made it home."

"Yes we did," she smiled, stroking his cheek.

"Lady Arya-" maester Luwin started, but Arya cut across him.

"I'm not leaving him. Do what you must, I can take it."

The maester seemed to realize the battle was lost and returned to working on Gendry's thigh. When Arya glanced down, the yellow wound was puking pus.

"I'm going to have to cut the infection out of the leg before I sew it back together," maester Luwin told Phillip – his steward. Arya tightened her grip around Gendry's hand. He had been through this before on the wall, he could do it again.

As the knife pierced the surface of the wound, Gendry's nails dug into her palm, making her bleed. He stared at her, panting, his whole body twisting in pain, but no sound escaped his lips.

"You're doing great," she told him. Judging by the ointment on his face and neck, Luwin had already cleansed the cuts the king's knight had given him.

"I'm finished," maester Luwin sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Tell Mikken and Myra they can come see him now," he ordered Phillip, who obeyed immediately.

Arya stepped aside as they entered, giving them the chance to talk to him.

"How are you feeling, Gendry?" Myra asked, bending down next to him.

"I'm fine, Myra," he assured her in a hoarse voice. Arya was always amuzed by Mikken's quiet character, but never felt he cared less about Gendry just because he never said anything.

"You were so brace," she smiled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Suddenly she turned to Arya. Arya bit her lip nervously. Perhaps Myra was blaming her for Gendry's injuries – just like Arya was.

"I'm really sorry I-"she started, her cheek flushing, but Myra shook her head and squeezed Arya's hand.

"Not to worry, my lady. You are both safe and that is all that matters."

"Although his thigh has suffered severe injuries, I am positive he will be able to walk again, however I am afraid he will always have a limp." Maester Luwin said. "I will have to cleanse his wound once aday, and his bandage must be changed morning and night."

Myra nodded, patting Gendry's shoulder. "Thank you, maester."

Arya stayed by Gendry's side for the rest of the evening. When Myra brought him soup, Arya fed him, and when he needed to reveal himself, she brought his bed pot out for him.

"I can't believe we're home," she said, smiling. It was like her face had frozen in that position ever since she returned to Winterfell.

"Thank you, Arya. For staying, I mean."

She chuckled and wrapped her hands around his face. "Of course I stayed. You're my smith."

"And you're my lady."

Catelyn

"Where is your sister?" Catelyn asked, looking at Bran. The feast had already ended, and Arya had never returned from visiting the smith.

"I have not seen her," Bran replied. Catelyn sighed, pulled her cloak on and went out into the cold night, determined to bring Arya back to the castle. She had believed her daughter had grown tired of rebelling by now, but she still kept disobeying orders.

Catelyn crossed the yard and knocked on the door to the forge. Although it was in the middle of the night, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs almost immediately. Mikken opened and let her enter, bowing slightly. "My lady," he greeted.

"I am sorry to bother you at this hour, but I believe my daughter is here."

"She is, my lady. I did not have the heart to send her on her way," Mikken said and motioned for her to follow him to the second floor. Despite all the years she had lived at Winterfell, she had never seen the inside of Mikken's residence, and was surprised to see how small it truly was.

His wife, Myra, was seated by the small table with a piece of clothing in her hand. She put down her sweing kit as Catelyn entered and curtsied politely. "My lady," she said.

"I'm looking for my daughter," Catelyn replied.

"Let me take you to her," Myra said and crossed the floor. Catelyn followed her as she entered a chamber at the end of the room. She gasped by the sight that met her. In the small bed covering most of the floor was the blacksmith with dirt on his face and his breeches covered in blood. His face had been badly cut, and he no longer looked as handsome as he once had. But what shook her the most was the fact that her daughter, a lady of Winterfell, was asleep next to him, her head resting on the man's chest and her arm wrapped around his waist.

"Arya," she whispered, giving Myra a flabbergasted look. How could she let something like this happen? Had she no honor?

"This is highly inappropriate," Catelyn hissed, reaching out to pull Arya off the bed.

"They are in love, my lady. Who are we to deny them happiness?"

Catelyn snorted, rolling her eyes. "Do you expect me to let my daughter marry some bastard?" when Myra did not reply, Catelyn gave her a stern look. "Arya is a high-born. She is to be lady of Horn Hill and I will not let her spoil that opportunity because of some childhood crush."

She seized Arya's arm and jerked her out of the bed. Arya's head snapped up and she looked around with a confused expression on her face.

"Mother!" she exclaimed. By now, Gendry was also awake and tried to climb out of the bed, but his injured leg stopped him.

"Lady Stark-" Myra said, but Catelyn was already on her way down the stairs, dragging Arya after her.

"Mother, let me go!" Arya yelled, jerking her hand out of Catelyn's grip.

"Arya, if you don't come with my right now, I will-"

"What? Disown me? Because I really wouldn't mind! When will you realize that I am not a lady! I don't want to marry Dickon, I don't want to rule Horn Hill. That life is not for me!"

Catelyn crossed her arms. "Listen to yourself. You are tired and hungry. Now, come with me and we will have the servants bring you some proper food."

"I am a woman grown. I refuse to be bossed around like a child."

"If you truly are a woman grown, then act like one," Catelyn said through clenched teeth. Arya scowled at her before looking back to the chamber where Gendry was, then shot Myra and Mikken a friendly look.

"I will return in the morrow to see how he is," she promised before marching past Catelyn. Arya had already run to the castle when Catelyn emerged the forge, and when she knocked on her chamber door, there were no reply.

Great, she thought, turning to leave. She was even more stubborn now than she was before she left.

AN: I'm sorry to all of you who like Catelyn. I guess I let my personal feelings effect my writing. I know I have exaggerated her a bit, but well, what story would it be without a little uphill, eh?