I had such a scare this week. My computer crashed and our computerguy said that it was possible that I would lose everything... And I just thought: "NO! What about my fic?"

Luckily, he managed to fix it without deleting my stuff, so. wii.

Chapter 26

Arya

It was midday before Arya was awoken by a maid called Ellyn. As she pulled the curtains from the window, bright light stung Arya's eyes.

"Good morning," Ellyn greeted happily. "Your lady mother told me to draw you a bath. Would you like to break your feast in the water?"

Arya could not hide her smile. No matter how much she hated being a lady, there were certain benefits – like the servants.

"Thank you, that would be great," Arya said and followed Ellyn to the tub room. There were three large tubs in there, but only one was filled with steaming hot water.

"Look at your nails, my lady. They look like a man's."

Arya chuckled and glanced at herself in the looking glass covering the left wall. Her hair was dirty and tangled, her face covered with mud and her body bruised and beaten.

"You must tell me everything about your adventure, my lady," she insisted as she helped Arya strip off her clothes. Arya started sharing her story as Ellyn scrubbed her skin raw. At some point, another maid came in with a tray of food, and Arya ate hungrily. It wasn't until her mother entered that Arya remembered the difficult task ahead of her; she had to make her mother understand that it was Gendry she wanted, not Dickon.

"Look at you," Catelyn said, sitting down next to the tub. "Your beautiful hair… why did you cut it off?"

"I did not want to attract unwanted attention from the men on the Wall," Arya said. "Besides, it is always safer to travel as a boy."

"Smart," Catelyn admitted. "Thank you, Ellyn, you may go."

Ellyn curtsied and left, giving Arya a sympathetic smile. Arya sighed. Here we go, she thought.

"I am tired of fighting, Arya. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps we can find an agreement," Catelyn seized the sponge and scrubbed Arya's back gently. "I heard rumors that you and Dickon had a row when he visited, so I can understand that you do not wish to marry him, and I will not force you."

Arya felt the relief rush over her.

"However," her mother continued. "As a lady you have duties."

Arya pulled away from her mother's touch and scowled at her. "I don't want to marry some stupid lord," she argued. "If I have to marry anyone, I want to marry Gendry!"

Catelyn pursed her lips and gave her a skeptical look. "If that is how you feel, I would rather see you not marrying at all."

Arya gasped, staring at her mother in disbelief. "Mother!"

"You are young and innocent," she said, but suddenly froze. "Arya, you are still a maiden, aren't you?"

"Mother!"

"This is serious matter, Arya. What lord would possibly want to marry a ruined woman?"

"I am not ruined!" she spat. Catelyn sighed in relief.

"Good, good. At least the bastard had the sense to keep his hands off of you."

"Do not call him a bastard!" Arya hissed and jumped out of the tub, wrapping a robe around herself.

Catelyn scoffed. "That's what he is, isn't it?"

"This is about Jon," Arya stated. "You hate bastards because it reminds you of him. Of father's mistake."

"Do not speak to me about this, Arya. This is none of your business!"

"If you only knew who Gendry's father truly was, you would not recent him as much as you do," Arya hissed. Suddenly, Catelyn fell silent.

"Whose bastard is he?" she asked. Arya bit her lip. Gendry's identity was supposed to be a secret. What if her mother did not care if Gendry was the king's son and would do something irrational to have him gone from her life forever."

"I don't know," Arya said quietly. "But neither do you. Perhaps he is the son of a high-born lord, or maybe he is of royal descent. That ought to shut you up!"

"Arya, you are stepping out of line. I am your mother, and I will not be spoken to this way!"

"A mother would want what is best for her daughter. Not intentionally ruin her life," Arya said darkly and turned to leave.

"Arya-" Catelyn called after her, but Arya was already halfway to her chamber. How she wished her father was there; surely he would take her side on this.

She was introduced to baby Atheena the same day. Arya had never seen anything so perfect her entire life, and caught herself envying Talla once again. Having children had always seemed so pointless to her, but holding Atheena in her arms made Arya realize the enchantment of babes. They were like a gift from the gods, given to those who deserve it.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" she asked the little babe, stroking her nose. "When you grow up, I will teach you how to fight with swords and use a bow and arrow."

Talla chuckled beside her. "And then she will become as much a rebel as you are."

Arya sighed and handed the babe back to her mother. "For her sake, I hope she becomes as obedient and ladylike as Sansa."

"I guess you have heard about my reluctance to marry your brother," Arya said, giving her good sister an apologetic look.

"Everybody has heard, Arya."

"I just want you to know it is nothing personal against your family, I just-"

"Don't love him," Talla finished. "It's okay, I understand. In some way, I guess I was lucky; I did not find love until I married your brother. I did not have to make a choice."

"To be honest, I doubt I would have wanted to marry your brother either way. A lady's life is not a life for me."

Talla put the babe down in the crib with gentle hands. They stood beside each other, looking down at the little bundle. "I admire you, Arya," she admitted. Arya shot her a surprised look.

"Why would anyone admire a disobedient excuse for a lady like me?"

Talla put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "You've got courage. You dare stand for what you believe in; you don't bow down for anyone, not even your lady mother. You might be disobedient, but you are brave enough to go your own way."

Arya gave her a grateful smile. It was good to know that someone did not think she was a reckless, ungrateful girl.

"She's beautiful," Arya said, staring down at Atheena. "Her hair is just like Sansa's."

"Let's hope she grows up just as beautiful as well," Talla smiled.

Gendry

When Gendry awoke, Myra had already warmed a bath for him, and she helped him into the tub. Maester Luwin had given them a special soap that would not sting his wounds when bathing, and Gendry was forever grateful.

"Was it worth it?" Myra asked, scrubbing his arms with a soft sponge. Gendry looked at her, uncertain of what she meant.

"All these injuries-Is she worth it?"

Gendry clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead, dwelling on her words. "Yes," he replied determinedly. "I would give my life for her."

Myra sighed and patted his shoulder affectionately. "I'm afraid you have a lot of wars ahead of you, dear."

"What do you mean?"

"Lady Catelyn does not approve of your love, son. She will do whatever she can to tear the pair of you apart, and I am in no position to stop her."

Gendry snorted. "If she wants me gone, I will go, but not without Arya."

Myra cupped his chin and stared at him. "Do not run away again, Gendry. Just look at what your last adventure cost you. I beg you, Gendry, stay. You have a home here – people who loves you. You have a good job and a great possibility to build a life for yourself here at Winterfell."

"If you expect me to sit quietly by as they ship Arya away to marry someone she doesn't want to marry, you do not know me at all."

Sighing, Myra poured some water over his head and washed the grease out of it. "I wish you the best of luck, dear. If you are to stand against the lady of Winterfell, you will need all the luck you can get."

Arya

She did not manage to escape her mother until twilight, and at the first time she got, she hurried to the forge, dressed in her usual breeches and tunic.

"He is in his chamber," Myra said as she entered the kitchen. Although her attitude toward her had chilled somewhat, she was still as polite as a commoner ought to be toward a high-born.

"Thank you," Arya smiled.

She was caught by surprise to find Gendry clean and newly shaved. It had been so long since the last time she saw him without a beard, she hardly recognized him without one.

"Wow," she chuckled and sat down in the bed next to him. "You look like a boy again."

Gendry snorted back a laugh. "And you almost look like a proper little lady."

"How's your leg?" she asked, pulling the cover away from his thigh. "Is it still infected?"

"It looks gross, don't take the bandage off. I swear, it stinks worse than Mikken does."

Arya picked up a book from his nightstand and looked at him. "You can't read," she stated. "Why would you need a book?"

Gendry gave her a slightly offended look. "I can read! Well, at least I recognize some words."

Arya opened it and wrinkled her nose. "I never liked reading anyway. It's too boring. Perhaps I will teach you one day."

Gendry smiled and ruffled her hair. "Did you get in a lot of trouble with your mother last night?"

Arya snorted. "What do you expect? She's furious. I'm sure she's about to lock me up in some tower until I promise to behave or something."

"And if she did, I would climb the tower and abduct you like the gentleman I am."

Laughing, she put her hands behind his neck and pulled him close. "I think I am capable of saving myself, thank you very much."

"I don't doubt it," he grinned. As their lips met, Arya knew that fighting her mother was totally worth it; Gendry was the one. He tangled his fingers in her hair, closing the gap between them. When they broke apart, she kept her eyes closed and breathed in the smell of him. It was so different from the familiar mix of sweat and dirt, but yet so alike.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked, rubbing her forehead against his. He sighed, stroking her lip.

"Fight," he whispered. "Fight until the whole world understands that keeping us apart is useless."

Ned

After his meeting with the king – and queen, Ned had been released, much to his surprise. The king had found no reason to keep him as a prisoner, and had not had a choice but to let him go. But instead of returning to Winterfell, Ned continued his search after the truth about Gendry. When he visited Mott's forge for the second time, Tobho told him about the owner of the alehouse Emeline had worked at. Aaron was his name, and although the blacksmith did not know whether the man was alive or not, Ned went to seek him down and pay him a visit.

The alehouse might have been very beautiful at some point, but the lack of care had made it look old and uninviting. The common room was almost empty except for a few elderly men in a corner. Ned crossed the room and went to the counter where a woman in her mid-forties with dark hair was smiling widely at him.

"What can I do you for?" she asked.

"I am looking for Aaron – the owner."

The woman gave him a sad smile. "I'm afraid Aaron passed away three years ago."

Ned nodded and looked at her. It was a long shot, but perhaps…

"How long have you been working here…?"

"Dimia," the woman said, winking. "I've been working here since I married Aaron. That must be about… twenty-five years ago."

Ned smiled, pleased with her answer. "I am Eddard Stark, warden of the North. May I have a few words with you? It's about a woman who used to work here about twenty years ago."

The woman glanced around and nodded. "Would you like some wine my lord?"

"Yes please," Ned said. Dimia pulled a bottle of wine from a shelf and motioned for him to follow her.

"Aleina, watch the counter, dear!" she shouted up a stairway just as a young girl around Arya's age emerged from upstairs. She had a mane of curly, light brown hair and a smile identical to Dimia's.

"Your daughter I presume?" Ned said.

"The youngest – only one more bird to kick out of the nest." She poured wine into a cup and handed it to him. "So, who is this woman you are asking of?" they sat down by a table in the corner of the room, farthest away from the other guests.

"All I know is her first name, Emeline. She had yellow hair and green eyes, and about two-and-twenty years ago she got pregnant."

Dimia's eyes widened as the memory of Emeline came back to her.

"Emeline, of course I remember her! She was such a lovely girl – and her son, ah, what a sweetheart."

"You knew her son?"

"Of course. She brought him to work every day. I don't usually approve of having children in the alehouse, but Gendry was such a good boy. From the day he learned to walk, he would help out as best as he could, wipe tables and scrub the floor."

"Could you tell me how she died?"

Dimia's face turned dark and she glanced nervously around. "We do not speak of it out loud, my lord. It was a tragic death."

Ned leaned closer and whispered. "This information could secure the boy's future."

"You know where Gendry is?"

"I do."

Dimia sighed and clutched her hands together in her lap. "It was the boy they were after. The gold cloaks. They stopped by the alehouse one night when Emeline was working late. Gendry was sleeping with my children upstairs – they loved having him around. However when the knights asked for him, Emeline denied his existence. But they already knew – someone had tipped them off. At first I did not realize what the gold cloaks wanted with an innocent child, but then I remembered something Emeline used to call him: 'your highness'. I thought it was just a harmless nickname, but when the gold cloaks came-"

"You realized he was the king's bastard," he finished in a whisper. Dimia nodded, rubbing her cheek nervously.

"When she refused to give them his location, they took her with them. She went almost willingly – only to keep her son safe. She was always very protective of him; a good mother." Dimia paused and poured a cup of wine for herself, taking a large gulp. "She was able to buy the boy some time – long enough for my eldest son to sneak him away and hide him in the neighbor's attic. I expected Emeline would return the same night, but she never did. The boy stayed with us for some time, until Tobho Mott offered him an apprenticeship. I wanted to keep him with me, but I am not a stupid woman; everybody knows that when a bastard boy is offered a trade, one should not decline that offer."

Ned nodded, folding his hands. "she died protecting him," he said.

"She was always very brave, Emeline. It was a loss not easily forgotten." Dimia rubbed her cheek again, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Tell him about her," she said in a meek voice. "Tell him how brave she was. Let him know that he was loved."

"I will, you have my word," Ned assured her.