A/N: No notes for this one, except to say that this is Gendry's last chapter. And...if I can do it, so that I can make my goal of posting chapter 50 on the last day of June, I will be writing three chapters today and then posting the remaining five, one each day, starting tomorrow. I will try my hardest. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.
Okay...so, a kind reviewer reminded me of the fact that in the ASOIAF series, Gendry Waters and Mya Stone are half-siblings. I had totally forgotten about that and just picked her because she was the first minor character I thought of. So...yeah, they aren't related in this story. Just so you know. No incest going on here.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Except for Lanius. He's mine.

Rating: M for language, sexual references, and the consumption of alcohol.

By the end of the week, between sparring with Gendry and being bullied by Lanius, all the men were passable fighters. Even Hot Pie could lift his sword and swing it in the general direction of his enemy—which was evidently good enough to earn Gendry his snowberry pie. So when the morning came for them to move out of Castle Dour, Gendry was able to wake at Lanius' order with a small amount of hope for their survival.

"How does it feel now that you're actually a part of Lannister's army?" Hot Pie asked as he tugged on one of his steel boots.

Gendry shrugged. "No different really. The food's worse here, but the company's better."

His friend nodded and thoughtfully fastened his cuirass as Gendry took out his sword and sat on the edge of his bed to sharpen it.

"The blade's silver isn't it?" Gendry nodded. "Guess it'll have to be you that faces Robb Stark then. May the gods be with you." He laughed half-heartedly at his feeble attempt at humor then lapsed into silence at Gendry's unamused expression.

"On your feet, men!"

There was a moment of chaos as the soldiers scrambled to obey the order but all were standing stiffly at attention by the time Lanius appeared in the doorway of the barracks. He looked down the two rows of men, making eye contact with each, before walking slowly between them to the other end of the room.

"As you all should know, this is the morning we leave for Falkreath. The journey will be long and no doubt arduous, but if I hear so much as a whine about how much your feet hurt, I will personally remove them."

Hot Pie squirmed at the thought and Gendry shot him a warning glance.

"As you should also know, this mission is of the utmost importance to our cause. Despite his better judgment, General Lannister is sending you lot of whoresons to capture Ulfric Stormcloak and Robb Stark and deliver them to their deaths." He paused and turned his head to look directly at Gendry, who avoided his stare by looking straight at the back of the soldier in front of him. "I don't think I need to tell you what will happen to you if you fail. Let me just say that you'd be wishing your death was as quick and painless as Stormcloak's will be."

With that, he strode back to the front of the room, his polished steel boots clicking rhythmically against the wooden floor until his heels came together sharply and he glared at the men under his command. "Alright, maggots. Let's move out."

Just as Captain Lanius had promised, the journey to Falkreath was long and grueling, though any complaints on the matter were kept to each man's thoughts or whispered lowly when their commander was out of earshot.

On one occasion, as they were just leaving Dragon Bridge and the comfort of its inn's ale and women, Hot Pie decided to try his luck with a complaint of his own.

"Why does it have to be Falkreath?" he grumbled irritably. "Of all the cities in Skyrim. It's a bad omen, I say."

Gendry raised an eyebrow and looked over at his friend after making sure Lanius wasn't lurking about somewhere nearby. "Why? What's wrong with Falkreath?" Even though he had been raised in Skyrim, he knew little about it, always hoping that he would someday return to his mother's homeland and meet the father he had never known.

Hot Pie stared at him incredulously. "Didn't you pass through Falkreath when you got here? It's right on the bloody border." When Gendry shook his head, the younger man snorted. "It's bad enough that you Imperials flood our lands, but it's even worse how ignorant you all are." Gendry frowned and the Nord shrugged unapologetically as he continued. "Falkreath has the single largest graveyard in all of Skyrim, maybe even all of Tamriel. Over half of the men who died in the Great War are buried there. And the citizens, they embrace it. The bloody inn there is called The Dead Man's Drink for the gods' sakes. Nothing good can come of that, I say. In fact, I think it's cursed. And that's exactly where we're headed."

"You're madder than Sheogorath," Gendry scoffed, shooting the young Nord a look of disbelief.

Hot Pie shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know of it. And I do know more than you. If you don't want to believe it, that's your own damn problem."

With that, their conversation shifted to lighter topics and Gendry had almost forgotten about his friend's superstitious ravings when they made camp that night and a map was drawn up to track their progress. Though it was mainly due to Hot Pie's tales of curses and ill omens, it was with a bit of trepidation that Gendry gazed down at the map beside the fire.

He was beginning to get a bad feeling about Falkreath.

Two more long days on the road saw the squadron to Rorikstead, the tiny hamlet that was once graced with the presence of the infamous legend, Ragnar the Red.

Despite his cruel demeanor, Lanius allowed the men to stay the night at the Frostfruit Inn, and it was only Gendry who saw him disappear into one of the rooms with a hefty supply of mead while his men drank away the money they had been given in advance for Stormcloak's capture.

Against his better judgment, Gendry allowed himself to be cajoled into joining in the revelry and he sat down between Hot Pie and a young recruit named Tarber for his first tankard of ale. After a few rounds, his friend lost his usual inhibitions and had decided to regale his fellow soldiers with a rousing tale of how to bake the best Jazbay crostata in Skyrim.

"You have to use wheat from Katla's farm for your flour—she has the best wheat in all of Tamriel, and that's a fact—then get your milk straight from the ox. That's to make the dough. Then add some butter, a pinch of salt, two handfuls of Jazbay grapes picked straight from the vine at a hot spring, and bake it." He raised his tankard of ale and nodded. "That's how you make the best gods damned crostata in Skyrim."

Gendry laughed and shook his head in amusement as he raised his mug for another round of ale. As he turned to look for the innkeeper, he caught a glimpse of a young woman standing beside the bar. Though her face was turned away, her short dark brown hair and petite build made his heart skip a beat and his mouth went dry as his alcohol-muddled mind played tricks with his eyes.

"Well don't just stare at her," Hot Pie urged, a bit more loudly than was appropriate for any situation. "Go on. Before someone else claims her."

Gendry blushed and shot a glare at his friend when the woman in mention looked over with an expression of undisguised amusement. "Stop it. I'm not going to do anything with her—or to her. I...I can't."

"Why?" One of the other soldiers at their table took a bite from the loaf of bread before them and washed it down with the last of his mead. "Because you're a maiden?" Gendry's face turned an even deeper shade of red as the men around them laughed and Hot Pie joined in shamelessly at his friend's expense as the other man grinned. "What? It isn't that hard to tell."

Another one of their party nodded in agreement and nudged him with an elbow. "Go on Waters. Believe me, you won't regret it. A woman like that in your bed is the most beautiful thing you'll ever see."

"Have you ever seen a man broken before your eyes, Waters? It's the most beautiful thing you'll ever see."

More to get away than anything, Gendry got to his feet and downed his ale before walking a bit unsteadily toward the pretty young woman. She looked up when he approached and cocked an eyebrow, accentuating the blue of her eyes. Or were they grey? As grey as the steel she wielded so effortlessly.

"Are you a whore?" The question came out completely against his own will and when the girl raised both eyebrows in surprise, Gendry sincerely began to regret the amount of ale he'd consumed.

"I suppose you could say that. I prefer the term courtesan, however. I like to think that I'm still a lady."

A lady. The word brought a frightening image to mind.

"Of course," he managed to stammer. "My apologies, my lady. The ale is getting to me."

She laughed and offered him a pleasant smile. "Yes, I can see that." She took his hand and then turned toward one of the unoccupied rooms. "Come. You'll be a little less nervous without an audience."

Nodding dumbly, he followed her in and looked around absently as she closed the door behind them and then snaked her slender arms around his waist. He was grateful for the fact that he wasn't drunk enough for his body to remain unresponsive to the affections of the young woman in his company and he turned to meet her lips when she moved to kiss him.

"What's your name?" he murmured, though his hazy mind told him that he already knew the answer.

"What would you like it to be?" she responded, smiling prettily up at him and batting her long eyelashes.

Arya. That's who you are.

When he didn't respond aloud, she sighed softly and then placed a hand on his chest. "What about you? What's your name?"

"I'm Gendry Waters," he replied absently. Eorlund's new apprentice.

"Waters? I'm Mya Stone. Looks like we have something in common then."

The sound of her name broke him from his reverie and he raised his eyebrows, looking down at her with newfound curiosity. This was the first instance that being a bastard had gained him any sort of favor.

With the knowledge that she had his attention again, Mya smiled and trailed her fingers lightly over his chest to the buckles on his greaves. "You've never done this before, have you, Gendry? In fact, I'd bet my best pair of stockings that it was your friends who told you to talk to me." At Gendry's sheepish expression, she laughed quietly. "That's quite alright. It happens more than you would think, actually. Just follow my lead and I promise you'll enjoy yourself."

He nodded, his eyes drifting to the cleavage exposed by the low neckline of her dress as he fervently prayed to the gods that he would remember all this in the morning.

Her thin fingers made short work of his armor and moved on to the clothes he wore beneath as he took the opportunity to explore her lithe body and when his clothes were all discarded on the floor, she looked up at him and stood on her toes to give him a kiss.

"Get on the bed." His mind registered the command, but his body refused to move, so after a moment, Mya smiled coyly and tried a different tactic. "I won't rest until you're all dead."

Gendry's head turned sharply in her direction at the sound of her words and he snapped at her harshly. "What did you just say?"

Her eyes widened with fear at his aggressive response and she blushed as she stammered her response. "I-I won't undress until you're...in bed..."

"I won't rest until you're all dead. Every...last...one of you..."

Grey eyes and sharp white fangs filled his vision and he flailed blindly in her direction. "Get away from me! Get away!"

Bursting into tears of humiliation and confusion, Mya ran from the room, leaving Gendry to collapse onto the bed, still desperately trying to fight the demons that plagued his mind.

That night, he dreamt of Falkreath. Of finding his own grave among the many that stood resolutely against the winter winds. And standing above his lifeless body, fangs dripping with his still warm blood, was Robb Stark, the Stormblade of the Stormcloak army, the Young Wolf.

Gendry spent the rest of the journey avoiding his fellow soldiers, and even Hot Pie gave up trying to make conversation after the third day of brooding silence. It was with dark and gloomy moods that they reached the border south of Falkreath, and not even their own victory could shake them of the darkness that seemed to permeate the very air around the City of Death.

After a long week of travel, and three grueling hours of waiting, the sound of footsteps could be heard along the muddy path, and Captain Lanius took the honor of stepping forward with a triumphant grin.

"Well well...look who we have here..."