Hey again,

sorry for the lack of updates, i promise the next chapter will be up in the next few days, in it'll be in Rickon's POV.

after abusing Gendry (sorry, all you poor Gendry fans, i love him too, i really do) it's time for Arya to finally return to Wintefell, hope you'll enjoy.

P.S. i'm really exited about having more than 100 reviews. you guys are the best:))

Arya

The journey North was too slow.

They have been walking for three weeks now and they had crossed the Neck only yesterday. The slow pace did have its advantages; it let Arya execute her plan without many suspicions. Arya knew that this journey will be her last chance to do this before she'll get too attached. She had to make it perfect; she couldn't leave any loose ends.

She killed the first few people back at King's Landing, before their departure, she was lucky that all the nobles were summoned there to witness Jon's legitimatization. She found some traitor bannermen who deserted Robb and her mother, and she even found two Lannister men who were involved in the slaughter that occurred after her father's arrest. Some she killed with her sword, some she poisoned, and one ran too fast, so she let Nymeria get him.

Her most satisfying kill was at the Twins. Nobody had even known that she's been to the castle, for she returned there long after the army left its grounds. She was quiet as a shadow, and the Frey traitors fell like flies, the survivors will talk about the ghost of the north, wearing the young wolf's crown and screaming in fury. She didn't wear her own face that night; she wore the face of revenge. When she emerged from the Twins that night, covered in blood, she laughed like a mad man and howled at the moon, feeling the old gods whispering all around her. She felt as if she was reborn, she felt complete and exhausted. The Starks have been revenged. She can go home now.

Now, when she'll face her youngest brother she will not cower. She could look the heart tree in its bleeding eyes and be proud. And when she'll dream next of the hall of the dead kings of the north, she will not humble herself in the corner, begging for scraps. She would sit beside her brother and share his food. She was finally a north woman again.

She sighed and let her body sink in the snow. Winter was definitely stronger here in the north than in the south lands. She missed it. she felt so much powerful among the snows and the pines. The North smelt cleaner, wilder. She knew that she was here to stay.

She lay down in the snow, a little further from camp. Closing her eyes, she thought of Aegon's vows to her.

I will never compel you to do anything against your will… I would follow you to the seven hells and back… we are equals…

I love you

Oh, what a fool he was to make such vows. Arya swore to herself that she would never return to King's landing. If it was up to her she would never leave the north again, though she knew it wasn't possible and it was not fair to Aegon. That day in the godswood felt weird and unearthly. While she was looking in Aegon's loving purple eyes, she felt as if she could watch herself from outside her body, as if she was in the heart tree watching her change, watching herself being bound to the dragon prince. In the eyes of her spirit she saw a red cord being pulled between her and the man that she chose as her partner. A familiar voice whispered to her words of encouragement, it sounded like Bran.

Now that she was done with her revenge, or so she hoped, she let herself mourn for her lost siblings. She realized that she had never had the time to mourn them properly, and now it was so hard. She didn't even remember how bran looked like; all she could remember was the back of his head walking away from her. She had her sister to remind her of her mother, she had Jon to remind her of her father, she had Robb's crown… but she didn't have anything to remind her of Bran. Maybe Rickon would look like him…

Arya sighed and got up from the snow. For nearly 8 years she hasn't been this far north, and in a week's time she's going to step through the gates of Winterfell once again. Only she didn't know what she was returning to, and it consumed her. It took her out of focus in training and she hadn't nearly talked to anyone but Gendry and Connington, which were no help.

Connington was busy trying to hide his misery. This would be his last battle; there was no doubt about it. He reeked of his sickness, he couldn't hide it anymore. His walk was stiff and he could barley hold a sword. Arya pitied the old radish. He distanced himself from everyone and drank himself to sleep every night. He took Arya for long talks about loyalty and royalty, and how she shouldn't let the politics of the thrones part her and Aegon. He asked her over and over again to watch over Aegon, who was too trusting.

The conversations with Gendry were entirely different. Gendry helped her to deal with her newly found grief. She found herself telling him about her childhood in Winterfell. She told him about her brothers, and about her father's loyal men, and it helped her remember who they were, and why she was still alive and kicking.

She never understood why Gendry had come with her. She broke his heart, betrayed his trust and treated him horribly, yet there he was, following her like a loyal dog. When she decided she should wed Aegon she thought about Gendry's proposition to her, running away far north and be free. Gendry was a safe choice, he knew her and loved her in spite of her flaws, he was loyal and honorable and very handsome, and she was happy when she was in his company. And He was right, they would have been very happy together, until she got bored and left him. Aegon, on the other hand, set fire in her, he was challenging and powerful, and she had never felt such a strong connection with anyone else. The sex was amazing and she suspected that he was somewhat a warg too. Her old self would have scolded her about choosing lust and power over honor and loyalty. But that girl was long gone, she died with her mother and brother and a thousand northmen at the Twins. Aegon brought forth this new Arya Stark, fiercer, smarter and confident. Gendry was the past, Aegon is the future.

The camp was stirring around her, soldiers laughing and talking preparing for the long march north. The snow was falling again, harder and colder. She thought about the dragons flying in the northern skies once more, and an unknown fear filled her heart.

In a week's time she'll be in Winterfell, she'll be home.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

From the hill she was standing on she could see the great castle. It looked different, smaller. Gendry was huffing by her side. She challenged him to a running contest in the deep snow, and won, of course. The southern man didn't have a chance.

"How do you mange to float over the snow like that?" he asked, trying to catch his breath. When she didn't answer him he looked up and followed her gaze to the grey castle in the horizon. He snorted.

She cast him a sideway glance, "what?"

"I thought it will be bigger. And that it'll have steam coming out of it, I guess". He cocked his head, looking puzzled.

She turned her gaze back to the castle, "it looks different, darker and… colder". She could hear the rest of the army getting closer. Just a few hours walk from the castle. She felt her heart beating faster. Would Rickon come and greet them at the gates? Will winter town be the same? Will she know anyone else there? Maybe they kept Hodor alive! She smiled at the memory of the sweet giant. She felt Gendry's eyes on her and turned to look at him, he was smiling at her. "What?" she asked him, annoyed.

He chuckled, "I don't think I have ever seen you smile this way. It makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"What would have happened if we made it, all those years ago? If Yoren brought you all the way home, and maybe I would have stayed here as your blacksmith…"

"Then we were both dead, stupid. Maybe I would have been raped by that son of a whore Theon Greyjoy, or maybe the wonderful Bolton Bastard. Then I could have seen my friends murdered and my house burned down." She was angry again; all the happiness of seeing her old home vanished and replaced with hate and sadness. She wished she could have slit Theon's throat herself. Gendry bowed his head, seeing how stupid he was.

"I'm sorry", he said quietly, the miserable look on his face melted all her anger away. She punched his shoulder and grabbed his arm, pulling him with her and walking back to join the rest of the men.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Rolly Duckfield galloped first through the gated of Winterfell, followed by 50 more men on horses. Arya's brown mare strode sure footed right after him, Nymeria and Ghost at her heel. She felt her stomach clench at the foreign smell and scenery. Everything has changed, or maybe it was all the same and she was the one who had changed. Winterfell was darker, she looked for something familiar but couldn't find it. it was all gone. The broken tower, the main entrance, it was all different. Even the bricks of the outer wall looked wrong. She could see scorching marks here and there, even the people around them looked different, they looked wilder. She was filled with such sadness; she had never felt like this before. This was not her Winterfell, her home was no more.

They strode onward towards a grim looking group of men. She recognized Robbet Glover, with his white beard and bushy eyebrows. To his side stood a young man who had the looks of a Manderly. She remembered the fat Manderly, rolling around with a honey cake in one hand and a chicken leg in the other.

Then she saw him. Actually Nymeria saw him first. Her dire wolf ran forward and jumped on a dark figure up ahead. They rolled around on the ground, fighting playfully, Ghost shortly joining them. Shaggydog was huge, much bigger than Nymeria, his fur was bushier and his mouth fiercer. Arya averted her gaze to where Robbet Glover stood.

Next to the bearded man stood a youth, his dirty auburn hair was long and wild and fell into his eyes, framing his long face. He looked at the direwolves wrestling and smirked. He turned his gaze to her and what she saw there startled her. He had the eyes of a madman. They were not Tully blue like the rest of her brothers, and they were not grey like hers, their color was bright and changing bluish grey. They were huge and unblinking and she cringed as they fell on her. His clothes were simple and a bit ragged and his stance was high and proud. He was supposed to be about one and ten, but he looked much older. Was this really her little brother? She would have never recognized him, he looked nothing like the rest of their family, he looked more… of the north. The wild north, that is. If not for Shaggy Dog she wouldn't have believed this was him.

Rolly was talking to the northern men that were standing by her brother's side. She assumed they were her brother's other bannermen, but she couldn't recognize any of them. Arya climbed off her horse wearily, anxious to get around the castle and see what else has changed, she wanted to go to the crypts and pay her respects, she wanted to go to the godswood… she felt Gendry by her side taking in the sight of the intimidating castle. Snow was falling again, and it was getting colder. The dark winds are rising, her thoughts wandered to Aegon. Was he safe? Would he come to her here? She was surprised to find that she missed him terribly, she wanted him to be here with her in this important moment.

She was lost in thought, when someone took her hand. She blinked and almost jumped in the air seeing the crazy eyes staring at her.

"Sister, Welcome home", he said quietly, his eyes softened a little and she realized that he had a voice similar to Bran's. His long face resembled their father's. Gendry coughed loudly and she realized that Rickon was waiting for her to respond. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Was she supposed to hug him? fall down on her knees and cry? pet him on the head? Maybe she should just nod.

She smiled weakly, "well, I'm starved, little brother. Do you have anything good to eat, maybe a Greyjoys chowder?"

Her brother smiled slyly, "unfortunately we're out of Greyjoys, sweet sister, but we hunted down some Boltons this morning, care for a turncloaks stew?", then she remembered that Varys had told her that her little brother was the one to kill Ramsey Bolton at the age of ten, the same age she was when she made her first kill, and she realized that she was going to get along just fine with this brother. She smiled at him and put her hand in his outstretched one. They entered the castle together.