A/N: Hiya! So yeah, this is going to be a version of what could happen in the book sin the future, though probably wont. All those dead are still dead. (Also found on tumblr) This did not go as planned, but somehow it's better and more fun! Enjoy, review, do what you do.

Arya

Before she could even open her mouth to speak, the wolf was on her, a small strangled cry escaped from her lips as its great paws rested on her shoulders and her back hit the ground. She let out a soft moan as the sudden connection with stone shot up her back. Her eyes were on the wolf though, steady and hard, daring it to make a move. His coat was think and black as the night sky, just like it had been when she's last seem him, though admittedly bigger, the fur was still long, still living up to his namesake and his eyes still shone a bright green, always wondering who to trust, like his owner. She shifted a little as his head came closer to hers, sniffing at her hair, her neck, his eyes grew with wonder. He remembers me. Or my scent at least, she thought, a sigh of relief on her lips until his voice called out in the heat of the forge.

"Shaggydog, to me."

It was silent for a few seconds as the wolf continued to stare down at her. For a second she thought he was going stay, which considering the amount of pain shooting through her shoulder, wouldn't be a good thing. But then he lifted his head and lifted first one paw and then the other from her shoulder and padded away to the where the voice had come from. Arya pushed herself up with her hands, wincing at the pain but gritting her teeth, it could be worse.

"Are you okay Miss? I'm sorry, he's not normally like that, I think you jus-"He stopped talking mid sentence as he took in the person he was talking to. She knew she had changed, knew she was slightly taller, her girl like figure gone and a small woman's left in its place, but she could see it in his eyes he recognised her. Arya swallowed, suddenly feeling conscious of the fact that she was still on the floor, his eyes never left her face as she stood up.

"Arya?" He asked slowly, like testing the name on his tongue.

She nodded slowly, looking him over. He'd grown into what little of a boy's body he had once had, his shoulders broader, more defined. She could see the muscles in his chest where the smoke and dust had stuck to him, the sweat giving him an odd shine. His hair still fell into his eyes, she noticed, still the same eyes looking back at her like they had so many years ago. He's a man grown; she thought suddenly, he's handsome too. Wait, did she just think that? This was the boy, no man, she corrected herself, this was the man that had left her for a brotherhood of outlaws, she only came to find him because he was the last Baratheon that could be relied on to help. That was the only reason she was there, wasn't it?

"Hello Gendry." She said calmly as she could, with her heart beating franticly. 'Shut up!' she wanted to shout at it, and a blush starting on her face. It's the heat, she thought stubbornly.

"Are you – I mean- you're alive!" he said, his voice a mix of happiness and slight anger.

"Yes stupid. What did you think I was? A ghost?" She spat out anger in her voice at his blind stupidness. 'Stupid bull headed boy. Always so slow and stupid!' "Why have you got Shaggydog? What have you done to Rickon?" At first the site of the direwolf had brought slight hope and joy to her, but then a second wave of thoughts had set in. 'Just because they have the wolf doesn't mean they have him'

"What? No I..." he stopped, taking a step towards her, a flash of anger in his eyes. "I thought you were dead! You ran off and the next thing we hear is that the Hound has you and you're spotted near the Twins during the Red Wedding. We- everyone-I though you were dead. You sent no word, no nothing to tell us otherwise. And then we get word that you're married to Roose Bolton's bastard and that's when I had to admit you must be dead because there was no way in seven hells that you would marry him. So come in here and think I'm not going to be shocked or fucking angry because you're meant to be dead."

His words felt like a slap across the face to her, making her wince back with his last word 'dead'. I'm meant to be dead, but yet I'm not. Arya wasn't sure what she was meant to say to him, all her words had escaped her, leaving her looking like a fish out of water as she opened and closed her mouth. Of all the ways she'd pictured this happening, of walking up to him, shocked words but then happiness. Of running and hugs and words spoken that would make them both laugh. Never had she pictured it like this, him shouting at her, logic and truth supporting his every word and her stood like a lost wolf in the summer. She knew he was right, but yet she couldn't bring herself to admit it to him. You stupid stubborn Stark, she thought to herself.

"I- that's not fair! I didn't know where you were by the time I escaped from the Hound. I though all my family was dead! What did you expect me to do? Run around the whole of Westeros hoping that you would find me? You were going to leave me anyway! What would care if I was dead!" Arya knew the second her words left her mouth they were the wrong was, but it was too late. No, this is all wrong. We're meant to be friends, I'm meant to take you North with me because you want to come.

Gendry was silent as he looked at her, his eyes showing his anger, his hand curled tight around the hilt of the sword showed how much. If Arya looked closely, she could swear she could see steam raising from him, but no, that's just the heat of the forge, she thought. For several seconds he said nothing, just looked at her though those blue eyes she'd once trust with her life- still trusted with her life, even if he didn't know it. When he started speaking, his voice wasn't loud and full of heat like she'd expected it, it was low and cold, full of bent up anger and hatred.

"I would never have left you. Not till you were safe with people who would look after you. But you never gave me the chance. You left me, Arya. You walked out that night and I looked for you. But I couldn't find you anywhere. You left, not me. And you knew not all your family was dead. You knew your sister was alive, your bastard brother at the wall. You knew you weren't alone. I never expected you to try to find me, but I didn't expect you to run when it looked bad. But now I see all you've ever done is run away when things turned bad." his words cut through her, everything he said was true, and she knew it. She had left him, she had run away, all she ever did was run.

"Gendry I-" but he didn't let her finish. Placing the sword down the and anvil with such force the sounded echoed around the forge.

"Your brother's in the Inn. Tom and Lem found him wandering around the Riverlands with the wolf and Osha, a wildling, so they brought them both here. Thinking that it would be best to keep the little prince safe. If you would follow me, I'll take you to him, m'lady." Gendry's voice was cool and without emotion, but still his eyes burned and suddenly Arya realised that it wasn't just her own family she'd hurt by running, she'd hurt her only friend as well. I can't lose him.

Gendry led her out of the forge and along a short dirt path to the inn. It wasn't a big place, with more windows then she could count and a single door at the front that looked as if it had been knocked down more then once. There were no horse's tired up at the front save for Arya's. Several times she tried to talk to him again, but each time she opened her mouth, no words came out. The sealed letter in her pocket from Daenerys seemed to have doubled in weight since she'd dismounted. How do I convince him to come with me now, when he wont even look at me? The walk was short and in a matter of minuets they were at the door, but it seemed like hours to Arya. He hates me, she reaslied as she stepped around him to enter the run down building. People have hated me before, so why does it hurt this much now?

Rickon came running down the stairs once Gendry had shouted his name and the second Arya saw him she had to step back a little. It had been 6 years since she'd last seen her youngest brother, the last time he'd been no more then a baby, clinging to her leg and laughing when he didn't understand. The boy that stood in front of her now was no baby, was no small child. He is nine, she remembered suddenly. He was tall, near as tall as she'd been at two and ten, his frame was small and skinny like she had been, but his hair was wild, stopping just short of his shoulders, his eyes, grey eyes of the Starks, of winter, looked her over, searching her face.

"Rickon?" She asked slowly, his name coming easily to her, but the boy before her didn't seem to fit the name anymore. 'They say he's as wild as the North that one, a real cannibal.' she'd over heard someone say on her journey to the Inn. And they were half right, he does look wild, but I can still see the Rickon I left in there too.

"Arya?" he sounded as lost and confused as she felt. All the speed and joy he'd had rushing into the room was gone and in it's place was small and lost nine year old boy. Arya nodded at him, a small smile gracing her lips. The first true smile she'd allowed in years, small as it might be, it was a start.

"You've gotten bigger. Nearly a man grown now." She said, the tone of her voice stranger even to her ears. It was kind and soft, like how she'd heard her mother talk to her when she was younger. Rickon looked at her a while longer, his eyes going from shocked to angry to the smallest hint of love. He flung his arms around her neck, toes touching the ground. Arya's arms went around his back, holding him close, not wanting to let him go. If she did, she might lose him again.

"I thought you were dead!" he said loudly into her shoulder.

"I thought you were too." she said back, her voice quieter, just wanting to keep the moment as it was. When he let go, she looked him over again, this time looking to see where the war had changed him.

"Are you okay? Not hurt? What happened? How are you here?" She hadn't meant to ask so many questions, but once she'd opened her mouth to ask one, the other followed suit.

"I'm fine. After Winterfell was burnt, Bran and Hordor when North to find the three eyed crow with the Reeds and he told me and Osha to go South, to find somewhere safe. We were just walking around, sometimes we'd stop in small villages and help them for a few weeks, we never went near any Lords, just in case. And then, about a year ago we ran into Lem and Tom somewhere in the Riverlands, and I don't know how they knew me, but they did and then they brought us here. Gendry's been teaching me to how to make swords and how to fight! And Shaggydog like him." Rickon said, looking up and Gendry as he talked about him. "He says he knows you, that you helped each other years ago."

"Arya nodded, not sure what to say in relation to her and Gendry and the past anymore. "We did know each other, yes. If you've been here a while, why didn't you go back North when you heard that Bran was alive?" She asked.

"Because we couldn't. The Ironbron still block the passage North and even if we got there, Bran would just send me away again, to keep me safe."

They spent several hours talking, shearing stories and little bits of information. Arya told him about the plan to march North, about Daenerys and her Dragons and how they would take their home back. That seemed to make him happy. When Rickon left, saying he was off the sleep, Arya stayed where she was. Sat in the common room of the Inn her back to the dying fire.

"Suppose you'll be wanting a room m'lady." Gendry said, standing next her a few feet away. His voice was still cold, not warmth, not even for her.

"Don't call me that. And yes, I would like one, I can pay." She said, hating the way he kept calling her 'm'lady' even when he knew she hated it.

"I'll have one prepared for you, m'lady." he said, walking away from her without a smile or a goodbye. The fact there was no laughter in his voice when he called her it hurt. He truly hate me for leaving, for running when I could have stayed. Oh Gendry, I wish I could say I'm sorry, I wish you could forgive me and laugh and smile like you use to when I told you to shut up, she thought. But she knew it was pointless, the stubborn side of her wouldn't allow her to give up, to admit she was wrong, and she hated her self for it.