Gendry

There was a crackling sound drawing Gendry out of the haze of perfect sleep and he groaned. As his eyes, crusted with dreams, blinked open, he felt a rush of happiness he knew to be associated with Arya, and still not fully in control of all his thoughts, he reached out, dazed, to her. His hand touched cold bed.

Gendry blinked, and then sat bolt upright, his head spinning, everything coming back.

"Arya?"

The television was on, and he reached for the remote to turn it off, until finally, as if he had suddenly regained all hearing, the words that were being said crashed into his ears.

"... Murdered... Killer still unknown... Police investigation..." His entire body went completely cold with a horrible dread and he found himself gasping for breath but there was none. Arya.

"Arya?" His voice broke, weak and hoarse.

There was silence.

Then he was scrambling, falling out of bed with a crash, struggling with his shorts as he shouted her name, banging open the bathroom door even though he knew she wasn't there. He went into a blind panic.

"Arya!"

He threw open the door to an empty hallway, and it banged behind him as he flew to the rooms across the hall where the others were, banging his fists madly against the door shouting her name until Beric wrenched the door open.

"Where's Arya?" Gendry bellowed, grabbing Beric, but he didn't even have to answer for Gendry to know she was not with them.

He dropped Beric and bolted, racing down the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator was too slow, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears, his stomach churning so fast he thought he might vomit.

"Arya! ARYA!"

He tore out of the lobby and into the parking lot, shouting for her like a mad man, and then ran out into the street, screaming for her. But she was gone. She did not answer. There was no whisper of her anywhere, and to matter how loud he roared her name, no matter how raw his lungs were, she could not hear him.

"FUCK!" He shouted raking his hands through his hair and clenching fistfuls of hair in his panicked rage. His breath was choking him.

"Gendry!" It was Edric, running towards him. "What's going on?"

The world was spinning around him at top speed.

"Where's Arya?"

Gendry tried to answer him but there was something else choking him.

"She's... She's..." His voice broke. "Fuck! She's gone!"

"What?" Edric looked panicked. "What did you do?"

Gendry looked over at Edric incredulously.

"I would never hurt her!" He roared, grabbing Edric by the shirt, his hands shaking. "You understand? NEVER!"

"Gendry!"

Suddenly Beric was there, throwing Gendry off Edric, who was shaking like a leaf, the little fucking coward. As if he could have taken Gendry on, and how dare he? How dare he? Beric laid his hand on Gendry's shoulder, and it was then that Gendry realized he was shaking form head to toe.

"I saw what was on the television," Beric said gently.

"She's gone!" Gendry gasped. "Fuck she's gone... She's gone and I was... I was supposed to protect her..." Every word shook.

"We'll find her-"

But Beric's words blurred together into nothing. He was supposed to have protected her, Yoren had given him one job before he died, it had been Ned Stark's last wish... And he had failed her. He had failed her in everything.

"Come on let's get dressed," Beric was saying. "Time is of the essence!"

Everything was a whirl as Gendry let them lead him back to the hotel, and then he was shoving his clothes on, and refusing breakfast because it would take too much time, but no matter how hard he fought with the other men, they insisted they needed food. While Lem and Tom shoved cereal down their throats, they decided where to look for her.

"She's gone to Winterfell," Gendry said firmly, without a doubt.

"But Winterfell's ruined," Edric said. "Theon Greyjoy burned it to the ground!"

"It doesn't matter," Gendry cut across him, and then felt guilty at the look on his face. He was only trying to help. "It's her home. It's the only thing she has left."

"It's too dangerous," Beric argued. "It'll be right where Tywin's expecting her to go, what with Joffrey..."

"What happened with Joffrey?" Gendry demanded.

"He's dead," Beric said. "Poisoned. They think it was Sansa Stark."

Gendry felt his throat go dry.

"We have to go," he said with fierce determination. "We can't leave her out there on her own! Tywin will kill her!"

"It's too risky-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Gendry shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. There was a ringing silence. "I don't care damn it! We can't leave her! We can't leave her out on her own, she's all alone... Her family is dead... We can't..."

He turned away wretchedly, tears burning at the back of his eyes.

"Gendry's right," Edric spoke up. "We have to find her."

A rush of utter gratefulness overtook Gendry, and when he met Edric's eyes, there was an understanding between the two of them. Beric struggled silently for a few moment, his eyes dark and his mouth clenched.

"Yes," he said with an exhausted sigh. "We can't leave her at the mercy of Tywin."

"I'm sorry," Anguy said, shaking his head. "I'm out. I can't afford to get caught just for some little girl. My record's too big."

Beric nodded in understanding, but no one else made a move to abandon them. After Anguy left, they all seemed silently resolved to find Arya and keep her safe. Gendry could have kissed them all.

With grim faces they all piled into the bus and turned North. Beric drove, and Gendry sat in the seat right behind him, his eyes peeled against the road, looking for a blur of red against the green of the forests that popped up thicker and thicker as they went on. Every mile or so they would stop and call Arya's name under their lungs were raw, and if they came past a town, they'd ask around everywhere to see if anyone had seen a young girl with short hair in a red jacket. They had not.

Darkness fell and still there was no sign of her. No one said anything about stopping, and they hadn't eaten all day, but there was a tense silence. No one would sleep or eat until they got to Winterfell.

Gendry couldn't help but feel more and more desperate as darkness crept around the bus. The thought of Arya alone and consumed with grief... Anything could happen to her. He gripped the seat so tight his hands hurt.

"What is-FUCK!" Beric screamed as suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the headlights from the bus caught a roadblock only a few yards away. Beric slammed on the breaks, trying to stop the bus, but they were going to fast, and as he spun away from the roadblock, Gendry caught a quick flash of who it was standing outside with all those police cars. An utterly drenching shutter of fear shot through him just as they spun away, and Beric lost control of the bus, sending them crashing and rolling into the darkness of the underbrush.

Gendry was thrown forward, his hands snatching wildly at the seat but in vain, and he crashed through the glass of the windshield, his body withering against the shattering glass. Incredible, horrible pain seared everywhere with such blinding force that Gendry opened his mouth, sucking at air but nothing came in. He felt his body hit and roll against the ground, and could faintly hear the sound of the bus crunching to a stop some ways off put everything was fogged over with crippling pain. He heard another sound too, and realized that it was coming from him. He was screaming.

He could feel himself slipping before he did. Just before he fell back into blackness, there was the soft sound of feet, and then, just as his eyes fluttered closed, the face of Tywin Lannister leaned over him and smiled.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOoooooooo

Gendry woke up blind.

Light oozed, and all he knew was that his body was broken everywhere, and he could taste blood in his mouth. His head lulled uselessly from side to side, and his eyes fluttered open and closed, swollen and tender. Something strained tightly against his wrists and it felt like there was glass in his leg and side. There probably was.

"Oh good you're awake."

He did not know the voice of the woman who spoke to him well, but Gendry, half blind with pain or not, knew Cersei Lannister when he saw her. She towered over him in the bright, searing light, her glare unforgiving. Ironically she looked like some sort of demented angel. Gendry had the urge to laugh.

"Where..." He gasped, his lip was busted, it bled into his mouth. "Where... Where is she?"

"As if you didn't know," Cersei snarled with hatred. "You lying bastard! You think you can fool me?"

"You don't know," Gendry sighed with relief. "You don't know. She's okay."

Well, he hardly knew, but they didn't have her, that was plain, and right now that was enough.

"Don't play games with me!" Cersei shouted, grabbing Gendry's shirt. "Tell me where she is! Tell me where the little whore is!"

"I don't know," Gendry laughed. It hurt to laugh. He probably had cracked a rib. "I don't know, and neither to you."

Cersei let go, and said something, and before Gendry knew what was happening, a fist was hitting him in the face, and he went crashing to the floor, chair and all. He screamed in pain. The fist had brass knuckles. The skin over his nose had ripped open and blood flowed into his mouth. The chair was yanked back up, and then the fist buried itself in Gendry's stomach. He spat blood.

"Now maybe you'll be more interested in opening up to me," Cersei said, and her face swam close to Gendry's. "Tell me... Where is the girl?"

"I already told you..." Gendry gasped. "I told you I don't know! She left..."

"Liar," Cersei hissed softly. "You'll go on lying too, won't you? Bring in the small one, maybe then he'll talk!"

Gendry blinked, and then suddenly they were dragging a bloody mess in, and when they wrenched it around, he saw the face of Edric Dayne, terrified and weeping, tears smearing with the large amount of blood on his face. Gendry reeled back in panic. No, no not this! No!

They pointed a gun at Edric's head.

"I'll give you three seconds," Cersei said coldly.

"NO!" Gendry shouted. "No I told you! I TOLD YOU I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

"One."

"LET HIM GO I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW! SHE RAN AWAY! SHE LEFT US! PLEASE I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS!"

"Two."

"I DON'T KNOW DAMN YOU!" Gendry roared, kicking wildly but unable to move his legs. "I DON'T KNOW! JUST PLEASE! Please-"

"Three."

"I don't-"

BANG!

Gendry screamed and screamed in horrible terror and devastation as Edric's brains splattered against the white walls, blood gushing from his head as he fell with a dull thump, dead, against the ground, his head finally resting in a pool of his own blood. Gendry began to sob in earnest. He had never wanted this. Edric... Edric...

"He was just a kid!" Gendry screamed at Cersei. "You didn't have to do that! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING YOU COLD-HEARTED BITCH!"

A thug made a move to hit him, but Cersei held up a hand. Her eyes were pure steel.

"He's telling the truth," she said with grim finality. "He doesn't know where she is."

There was a swelling silence, and Gendry glared at her, hating her more than he had ever hated anyone in his entire life.

"Are you going to kill me then?" He asked bitterly, cynically almost.

Cersei held his gaze.

"No," she said, not to him really, but to the thug. "You'll be so much more useful alive. Break his arm and ink him. Make sure he doesn't try anything ever again."

Without so much of a shiver of remorse, she turned on her heel, stepped over Edric's dead body, and left the room. There was a moment of silence, and then the thug took a step forward and broke his arm. Gendry let out a shriek, roaring until his lungs went raw, and then he shook from head to toe, leaned over and vomited, still shaking.

A hand forced him to lean forward, and when he tried to fight it off, there were three more there holding him firm. No matter how hard Gendry wrenched and swore and gasped, it was no use. The fight was over, and at last, utterly defeated, his head hung forward, and he barely made a sound as he felt the bite of the needle pierce his neck.

Three Years Later

Janos Slynt sat in the seat closest to the window, though why he did remained unseen. It was pitch black outside and there were no lights from any city or town. They wouldn't be seeing anything out of a window for at least an hour or so, as that was how long the journey to Kings Landing would take. There was nothing to see but maybe faint outlines of trees. So why Janos chose the window seat was a bit of a mystery. Maybe he sat by the window so that he wouldn't have to sit near the old man in the smelly coat who had chosen to sit directly in the middle towards back of the car, by the refreshments bar.

Janos's eyes, far from watching what was going on outside the window, flitted every so often to the girl behind the counter. She was very pretty, with voluptuous blond hair, a round face and a bosom that would put most of the whores he had seen in his life time to shame, and Janos's eyes not so much lingered on her face, but at the breasts that strained against the tightness of her shirt. He contemplated buying a drink and chatting her up.

The rest of the train cars were empty and dark, and this one was just as dirty as all the rest. The lights cast Janos's skin a pale green, and the red veins in his eyes seemed to stand out more than usual as he gave himself a quick look over in the reflection of the window. The car smelled too, and there were wrappers from candy and eaten sandwiches scattered across the floor. Had the girl at the counter not been so pretty, Janos would have complained. As it was, he did not.

"Where's Rudy?" The old man piped up to the girl at the counter. He wore a ripped and used sweater with spilled coffee on it and a tan jacket that had dirty sleeves. Janos smoothed out the sleeves of his own jacket, which was white and clean and new, courtesy of Cersei Lannister. Janos detested anything as dirty and horrid and unkempt as the man that now spoke. "He usually works this shift."

"What, the all-nighter?" The girl asked, flipping her long, thick hair over her shoulder. "Know him do you?"

"Yes," the old man nodded. "I work long shifts up North and come down South for the weekends."

"Got family down there have you?" The girl asked kindly and Janos couldn't help but be put out that her attention was attracted at that smelly old man and not him.

The old man did not say anything.

"Rudy's ill," the girl said. She didn't seem to mind that he hadn't answered her previous question. "So I came in."

"I haven't seen you around," the old man said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'm new," she said with a sigh. "Second day."

"You're doing a lovely job."

This time it wasn't the old man that spoke, but Janos. He got up and smiled at her. She smiled back as he walked over to the bar and placed his hands against it.

"What can I get for you sir?" She asked, her large grey eyes docile.

"A whiskey," he said, looking her up and down. She smiled again and turned to fix his drink. Janos took this opportunity to admire the curve of her bottom.

"It's just," the old man croaked up annoyingly from behind Janos where he sat, "Rudy always tells me the news. He's very knowledgeable when it comes to what's going on in the world."

"Oh really?" The girl asked, looking around Janos, much to his irritation. "Like what?"

"Like what's going on with all the attacks, and all them crime people," the old man said. Janos paid for the drink and tried to wink at her, but the girl was all ears for the stupid old man. Janos scowled and stomped back towards his seat.

"You mean the mob?" the girl asked and Janos froze. The old man nodded.

"Do you know much about it?" The old man asked. "Rudy is always watching the news. Last I heard, three men that used to work for Robb Stark went missing a couple of weeks ago."

The girl shook her head.

"Sorry," she said. "Watching the news isn't really my thing, but I heard from somebody that Joffrey Lannister died in some sort of freak accident?"

"It weren't no freak accident," the old man said darkly. "He died three years ago, and the police suspect it were murder that done it."

"Murder?" The girl said. Then she sighed and shook her head again. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah it's Cersei that runs the casino now," the old man told her. "Got it heavily guarded too. I hear no one without a special card can get in."

"That's right," Janos said, eager to impress the girl at the counter, "only those that are on the inside can get in."

"How do you know that?" The girl asked, wide eyed and demure. Janos grinned.

"Cuz I got one," he said proudly.

"You do?" The girl gasped. "But how?"

"Might be because I know Cersei personally," Janos said, enjoying the look of utter awe on her face. He could almost feel the shag he was going to have with her. "She trusts me more than most folk."

"Then why are you on this train and not in Kings Landing?" The old man grunted from his seat.

"I'm on my way to King's Landing you stupid old sack," Janos growled, getting tired of his interrupting. "Cersei sent for me, personally."

"So you must know everything about it then," the girl said in wonder.

"That I do, but I'm sworn to secrecy," Janos said with a wink. She looked let down. The old man snorted.

"Do you know anything about... Well I heard there was this like sort of gang, called the Brotherhood," the girl asked shyly. "Have you ever heard of them?"

"An urban myth," Janos said with a wave of his hand. "They don't exist."

"I hear they exist," the old man piped up. "I hear Cersei Lannister rounded them up and shot them one by one and then dumped their bodies in the ocean."

The girl turned considerably pale, the blood draining from her face and her hands shaking against the counter. Janos found his irritation with the nosy old man mounting. But... Well she just looked so distressed. He walked over to the counter and patted her hand in what he hoped was a very comforting gesture.

"He's just pissing in the wind," Janos told her reassuringly. "The Brotherhood was just a load of bullshit made up by the Starks to scare the public."

"That's not what I heard," the old man said, interrupting again without fail, "Rudy told me that they caught the Brotherhood and took 'em to a warehouse and shot each one through the head. A butcher it was, he said. Just like they did Ned Stark."

"That old man deserved what he got," Janos grunted, though Ned Stark was hardly older than himself when he had been murdered. "As well as those Brotherhood bastards, if they do exist."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Janos tasted something foul and bitter on his tongue, as though his body was trying to tell him that the words that had just come his mouth were the words that would end his life. If it was, he didn't have time to react. One moment his hand was over the girls, the next second hers was gone with a flash of blond hair, and when Janos whipped around, he just barely saw the gun aimed at his temple before it when off and his brains were splattered across the train car, his body flying backwards and then falling.

The old man screamed as the girl leapt onto the counter with the dexterity of a cat, and then, with movements so liquid and robotic that they were almost inhumane, she spun around and reached out for the security camera, twisting it with a practiced jerk as if it were a bird's neck, tearing it from the wall. She leapt from the counter, security camera in hand, and then filled a pitcher full of beer, the old man watching her in horrified disbelief. Not even looking at him, she shoved the camera in the pitcher.

"Erases fingerprints," she said casually as he gibbered, gasping for breath, the utter terror on his face evident.

The train began to slow, and the girl looked up and then reached under the counter, grabbing a black duffle bag and shoving her gun in it. She jumped over the counter again and went over to Janos's body, turning his head over with the heal of her boot, a look of disgust and hatred on her face. Bending down, she put on a latex glove and then reached inside the pocket of his suit, fishing around and then pulling out a card.

She put it in her pocket and then stood, removing the glove and putting it in her bag. She turned and advanced towards the old man, his hands shaking.

"Are you going to kill me too?" His voice cracked and there were tears in his eyes.

"Come on," she said almost gently, and to his surprise she reached out and helped him to his feet, her arm around his back. She lead him towards the door.

"You shouldn't have done that," the old man said quietly. "A nice girl like you shouldn't have killed a nice man like that."

"He wasn't a nice man," the girl said, her eyes hard as ice, "and I'm not a nice girl."

The train slowed to a stop, and she braced the old man so that he did not fall when the train came to a final screeching stop. There was a moment of utter silence, and then the doors opened, and she helped him onto the empty and deserted platform.

"Tell the police," the girl said, taking the mans wrinkled hand in hers and looking him square in the eyes. "You tell them what I looked like and what I did. You tell them I did it and I swear I'll never come looking for you. Don't be afraid."

"What about Rudy?" The old man asked, tears still leaking from his eyes. "Did you kill him too?"

"No," she said gently, shaking her head. "He'll be alright, I promise."

There was another moment as the air whooshed through the silent and dark station, the street lamps flickering dully, the buzzing sound of electricity crackling through the air. Somewhere far off, there were shouts and laughter.

"I've got somewhere I have to be," the girl said as though they had passed a casual hour on the train together with no minor interruptions. "Are you going to be all right?"

The old man looked at her.

"How could you do it?" He asked. "A nice girl like you?"

She gave him a wry smile.

"I thought I told you," she said almost sadly. "I'm not a nice girl."

She gave his hand one last, affectionate squeeze before she let go, and then she turned and walked away and the old man watched her go. He watched her go down the platform until she melded with the darkness and disappeared from sight like a shadow. And then even after that, he watched the darkness.

The girl walked down from the platform and down a set of stairs that lead to a tunnel under the track. The look on her face was of someone who knew where they were going, and yet... There was something very unfamiliar about her, something not right. Nothing the average passerby would see... But if they really looked at her face...

There was a public toilet and she went in, locking the door behind her. She took a look at herself in the mirror, the faulty lights cutting and gorging out the shadows of her face, before she sighed, curled her fingers under the place where her blonde hair began and pulled. The wig came off cleanly, and she opened the bag and dropped it in, raking her fingers over the hair net that had been pulled tight under the wig and letting her long, dark hair fall loose around her shoulders.

With precise haste, she removed her skin tight pink top and then the gel cups in her bra, putting them in the bag as well. She shook off the shoes that gave her three inches more in height and the faded jeans as well. In just a bra and underwear, she opened another compartment of the bag and got out what looked like a strip of black tape. Curling it around the smallness of her waist, she strapped it around and then secured on it what looked like a small hand gun and a retractable knife, along with several packets of ammunition.

Next, she put on a pair of black pants and a grey tank top, adding a switch blade to the pocket on her pants. Then she looked in the mirror at the pretty face that stared back at her. Without batting an eyelash, the girl leaned forward and turned on the water, leaning her head down and washing away the face that Janos Slynt had found so attractive.

When she straightened up, it was like looking at a stranger.

She had not looked at the face of Arya Stark in a very long time.

Even thinking the name was strange, and it brought on a sense of incredible loneliness and vulnerability that displayed itself on her face in a look of deep disgust. She hated feeling lonely and vulnerable, but she also hated being a coward, and that's what she had to do. She had to face her fear, stop being a coward and face herself. Her worst enemy.

Arya reached down, and ripped off two Velcro patches on the black bag, making it look like it was not just a solid black bag anymore, but one with two grey patches. She stuffed the patches in the trash and then slung her bag over her shoulder, walking out of the restroom as a completely different person with a completely different face and a completely different bag.

The girl with the blonde hair was still in the bathroom. Arya Stark walked free.

She walked briskly, every step increasing her speed, but nothing about her seemed unnatural or panicked. In fact, she was filled with purpose, her eyes steely in the dark, her mouth set in a thin line. She walked out of the tunnel, up the stairs, and then down a thin alley and into the city, emerging from the dark only when she passed under a flickering street light. Cars drove past, men slept on the streets, drunk and stinking, but they didn't even garner a look from the girl with her hood pulled up and her bag slug over her shoulder.

She took a sharp turn and then walked down an alley, taking another off beaten road and winding towards the docks, hurrying down the stairs to where a large junkyard sat, a few feet up from the silent black waters. Unceremoniously she dropped the bag, ripped it open, and got out a small container. Unscrewing the top, and crinkling her nose at the smell of gasoline, Arya poured it over the bag, and then threw the container in the water.

Casually, she got out a piece of paper with the blonde haired girls name and identity, lit it, and then let it drop on the soaked bag. It burst into crackling flames, burning bright and hot in the blackness. Arya took out a cigarette and lit it against the flames.

She took a drag, watching all forms of hiding burn and melt together into molten ash.

There was no time for lingering. It was going to get light soon, and by then Arya had to complete the job. She knew by the maps that she had studied that she was only a few blocks from the Red Keep, and she hurried up away from the burning bag and towards her goal. Her handgun felt hot against her skin, and the image of Cersei, bloodied and dead, burned even hotter in her mind. Tonight she avenged her family.

She had Janos's card, but she wasn't stupid enough to use it. Anyone with eyes could see she wasn't a balding older man, and she'd get caught by security within a matter of seconds. Still, it was always good to have a plan B.

You could hear the sound of the casino a block away. Arya scanned the area of the alley she stood in. She needed to find a point of vantage, to analyze the scene. Spying a fire escape, she leapt onto a dumpster and took a running jump, her hands locking on the bottom of the latter and yanked it down with her weight. Without wasting a second, she crawled up, reaching the escape, and then silently, like a ghost, she scaled up to the roof.

She had been right to do this. The alley by the back door of the casino was being guarded by a Lannister thug in a white jacket. Just like a mouse waiting innocently for the cat to pounce and rip it apart. So stupid.

He paced idly in and out of the light, and careful as a shadow, Arya found another fire escape and slithered down it, pausing on one of the landings, only a few feet above him. She steeled herself, and took a deep breath.

She sat crouched over him, Needle gripped in her hand. The thug stood in the pool of light from the street lamp, and just above to collar of his beige suit, she could see the little lion tattooed on his neck. The inked sign of every Lannister man. It seemed to glare and gloat at her, and Arya saw red, tasting his blood in her mouth as she positioned herself to strike.

Like a leaf, she fell to the ground, soft and nimble, just a twist of the shadows. Straightening up slowly, she advanced towards him, gripping her knife in her hand, her eyes on the little lion grinning at her in the dull light. Swift as a shadow, she thought quietly, her breath as soft as silence, and then she struck.

Her knife was in the air, and she brought it down, about to drill it into his neck, when he surprised her by whipping around, a thick hand suddenly crushing itself around her wrist, jerking it to a stop, and she wrenched her hand around, effectively breaking his wrist. He let out a roar of pain and crumpled to his knees, and she twisted her wrist away, his fingers slipping from it, Needle ready to slash his throat-

But then he looked up and suddenly she could not breathe. His voice sounded like a million miles away.

"Arya?"

Gendry.

We're hitting the home stretch. Only three more chapters to go.