A/N: Another fairly speedy update, I'm dreading when my muse takes some time out, and it will be a week or so between updates lol

Thanks for all my reviews - I couldn't reply to all of them, but I did read every single one, so thank you :)

shout out to Mariion, who found the lyric in last chapter which was'Time makes you bolder, even children get older,'taken from Landslide, by Fleetwood Mac.This chapter's lyric is from a U2 song.

Hope you enjoy

xBx

Chapter 4: Gendry

He had been in the forge when he heard the noise; just as the sun was about to disappear below the horizon, the woods surrounding the Inn at the crossroads erupted with howls that continued well into the night. He had never heard the wolves howl like that, not for years now. When he thought of it, the last time he had heard the wolves howl so loud, she had still been with him. He put down his hammer and stepped outside, welcoming the sound that sent shivers down his spine. Was this some sort of sign? Or was he just clutching at the faintest of hopes that allowed him to continue believing she was out there, somewhere, alive.

The more weeks that had passed since her disappearance, the more is seemed ridiculously optimistic to believe her alive, but he just couldn't accept the possibility that she might be dead. They had found no evidence of her death, and besides she had already proven time and time again her uncanny ability for escaping, for disappearing and taking on a new identity. No, she was alive. She had to be.

Gendry returned to the forge, hammering away at the steel he was making into a sword. It was noisy work, but it didn't drown out the sound of the wolves, and nor did it stop his mind from wandering. He had been at the Inn for four years now, possibly longer, he wasn't too sure. He had found this place, with Harwin, Thoros and Anguy, when they had been following the trail of the Hound and Arya. To this day, Gendry could not forgive himself for letting her go that night and he hated himself for making her angry. That hadn't been his intention, when he had joined the brotherhood; he hadn't done it to leave her, he had done it so that he might be able to stay with her. Looking back now, he realised what a stupid decision that had been, but back then he was just a boy - a stupid bull-headed boy, Arya's voice chastised him. Oh, if only she could know just how right she had been. He had thought himself a man grown, but in truth he had still been a boy, he made a bad decision and made the only person he cared about turn away from him. And then Thoros had told her they would not be taking her Riverrun:

She stormed out, running out into the rain and Gendry automatically called out to her, wanting her to come back where it was safe and warm. He made to follow, his instinct taking over, but Harwin put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Leave her be, lad" Harwin said, gently, "She'll calm down in an hour and she'll come back."

"It's pitch black out, it's not safe out there," Gendry had argued.

"We have lookouts. No one will get close enough to harm her." Harwin assured him.

"That's what you thought the other day, and the Hound found his way back to us." Gendry reminded him, throwing off Harwin's hand and stepping out into the rain.

Gendry pounded the steel harder, letting out his frustration at the memory: if only he hadn't let Harwin detain him; if he had ignored him and followed his own instinct, he would have been closer to her. But instead:

He had only taken three steps when an ear-piercing scream ripped through the air. His heart stopped for a brief moment, but his feet moved of their own accord, taking him in the direction of the scream. When he rounded the stables he saw what had transpired: large hoof-prints were clearly visible in the mud; he could also see the small footprints, where Arya had walked, but they ended near the hoof prints. And in between the prints of horse and girl the ground was churned up more than it should be, as if there had been a struggle. Without thinking he turned to the stable and yelled at the boy to get him a horse, within moments he was mounted and tearing off into the woods, in the general direction of the hound. It wasn't long before he heard the sound of hoof beats coming up behind him, and soon enough Harwin was coming up alongside him.

"You'll do more harm than good trying to find them in this." Harwin yelled over the rain and the thunder, "There's no way we'll find them in the dark. We'll set out at first light. We'll find her, Gendry."

Gendry hadn't wanted to stop, but in his heart of hearts he knew Harwin was right,

"How did he get through? Again!" Gendry asked, trying desperately not to lose it, the rain running down his face, making it look like he was crying.

Harwin shifted in his saddle, "It doesn't matter now-" He started, but Gendry shouted over him

"How!" Gendry demanded, anger rising in him.

"One of the lookouts fell asleep-" That was all Gendry needed to hear, and he turned his horse around and galloped back the way he had come, ignoring Harwin's shouts.

When he reached the outskirts of the camp again, he soon found the boy who had fallen asleep on duty: it was the same lad that had let the Hound slip through the time before, and he was looking ashamed and confused all at the same time. Gendry jumped from his horse, leaving it to fend for itself, and stormed over to the boy. Before the lad could utter a word, Gendry's fist made contact with his face with such force that his nose shattered, sending blood spurting everywhere, and the lad fell to the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Gendry yelled, pulling the lad back to his feet just so he could knock him down again,

"Twice you've failed at your duty and now she's gone!" He continued yelling as he beat the boy bloody, letting out all his rage and frustration. It had taken three men to pull Gendry off, and by the time they did, the boy was sobbing in a heap on the ground, his face and body bruised and bloodied.

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy!?" Harwin yelled at him, "Pull yourself together! It's done now, no use placing blame!" Gendry jerked himself free of his restraints and stormed back under cover.

If truth be told, he didn't truly blame the lad, he blamed himself for letting her out of his sight. The others couldn't understand what he was feeling in that moment, they hadn't heard her scream. And it hadn't been any oftheirnames that Arya had screamed out. No, it was his name she had shouted; he was the one she had called for to help, and he had been too far away to do anything about it.

Gendry let out a frustrated growl as the memory accosted him: he had been pounding the steel too hard, letting out the anger he still felt at that memory. Tossing the ruined steel back into the melting pot and throwing down his hammer, he walked back out into the snow and took a deep calming breath, but the memories continued to flow.

They had set out the next morning, all of them, heading North to the twins. They knew there was to be a wedding, and that the Freys and the Tullys were to join their houses. They figured that would be where the Hound was taking Arya. They were hindered by the constant rain, and could only pray that the Hound was being hindered too. They traced them to the crossing at the Trident, and followed. They were nearing the Twins when news came upon them of the Red Wedding; Gendry had nearly lost it when they were told the story, but he managed to keep it together.

"She's still alive." He had said stubbornly, "If they had made it, they would have known her to be there, and we would know of her death." He could tell Harwin wanted to believes his words, but he could also tell that Lord Beric and Thoros were hesitant to believe him. They soon discovered a witness who had seen the Hound leaving the scene, with a young boy over his horse. They discussed where he might be going and had decided he would have either made for the Eyrie, to ransom Arya back to her Aunt, or gone looking for a ship at Saltpans or Maidenpool in an attempt to flee the country: Westeros wasn't exactly safe for the Hound at the moment. So they turned their steeds around and began back the way they had come.

Not long after, they came upon Catelyn Stark's body: it had been washed up onshore and they had reached her just in time, before the wolves had started to feast. The wolf nearest the body was the biggest Gendry had ever seen - twice the size of a normal wolf. He had expected it to attack, but to his surprise it had just turned and disappeared back into the woods. He watched as Lord Beric gave his life to Lady Catelyn, the memory still made him shiver: he couldn't explain what he had witnessed that day, but felt sure it wasn't Godly. He had remained with Lady Stark for about a week, though she now called herself Lady Stoneheart. Arya had never spoken much about her mother, but from what little she had said, Gendry was unsure if Lady Stoneheart retained much of Catelyn Tully. Lady Stoneheart was consumed with seeking revenge. She had smiled, when she had been told that Arya was still alive and that the Brotherhood had seen her until recently. As Gendry had been the one who was with her since leaving King's Landing, it fell to him to tell Lady Stoneheart what had transpired – though he left out a lot of details: like the fact that her daughter had killed more men than a girl of one and ten ever should.

Lady Stoneheart had thanked him, for taking care of her daughter, which only made Gendry hate himself more: if he had truly taken care of her, like he once vowed he would, she would still be at his side. With Lord Beric dead – this time, well and truly gone, never coming back – The brotherhood rallied around Lady Stoneheart as their new leader. But what surprised Gendry most, was Lady Stoneheart's determination to remain in the Riverlands and exact revenge on the Freys, instead of looking for her daughter. Instead she sent Harwin, Thoros and Gendry to continue their search. Gendry had gone, more than willingly – he would have gone without her orders – but from that day on, he could never like Lady Stoneheart, regardless of who she had been before she died.

They soon picked up the Hound's trail, coming across the newly re-built town that he had helped build. Gendry had almost cried with relief when they told them of the girl travelling with him; she matched Arya's description in every way, and they were positive they were catching them. They continued on their way, following the direction the townsman pointed them, and soon they came upon the Inn at the Crossroads.

When they entered it was to find a young girl, on her knees, scrubbing the floor, trying to get rid of a large red stain that could only be blood. Gendry had paled at the sight of it, sudden panic taking hold. The girl had looked up when they had entered, and told them harshly to leave their weapons at the door.

"Who?" Gendry had asked, looking at the stain, but not able to form a full sentence.

"The Hound" the girl had scowled, and Gendry could scarce breath. He felt Harwin's hand on his shoulder, as Harwin asked the question Gendry was dreading to hear the answer to; "Whose blood?"

"Some soldier or other," she shrugged, "The hound killed three of 'em. But he and his little girl walked away."

Gendry's knees gave way with relief at that point, and he sat on the nearest bench, running shaking hands through his hair in relief. "Where did they go?" He demanded.

"How in seven hells should I know?" the girl had snapped, "As long as they don't come back."

"Please," Gendry had said, his voice coming out strangled and sounding almost like he was begging. The girls face had softened at the sight, and she sighed.

"He was asking questions about ships. From what I heard, they discussed Saltpans. Try there." She told them.

They had left that instant, riding hard to the Saltpans; Arya and the Hound had left the Inn three days ago, they were so close. Along the road they found the Hound. Dead. But they also found a set of hoof prints carrying on down the road: the hound had not yet started to decay, he could barely have been dead a day, they were sure, even the crows hadn't got to him yet. And the prints were fresh; they were so close, but yet so far.

They reached Saltpans quick enough, and when they began asking if anyone had seen a girl matching Arya's description they discovered someone who looked like her had sold her horse at the stables two days ago, and was planning on taking a ship. That was all they could discover – Gendry trailed up and down the docks asking anyone and everyone, but while a handful recalled a girl of her description, no one could tell him what ship she had taken nor where she had gone.

Eventually, he gave up: she had obviously found a passage, but to where he would never know. And so they had returned to the Inn at the Crossorads, where they spent the night, and Gendry drank more ale than he had ever done in his lifetime, to try and quell the rage and self-hatred stirring inside him.

Come the morning Gendry had decided to stay: as well as they young girl – Jeyne, he soon discovered she was called – there were a number of orphans, and no men. They had a forge, he could earn some money from people passing through, fixing swords, mending armour, shoeing horses and what not. He never openly admitted the real reason he stayed though, he barely even admitted it to himself: this was the last place Arya had certainly been, and he couldn't leave.

Gendry sighed, running his hands over his face and through his hair. He leaned back against the wall of the forge and stared out into the night. The sun had fully set now, and the stars were beginning to come out. It was freezing cold, but there was no snow – for which Gendry was thankful, the roads were near enough impassable as it was.

"I thought to find you in the Godswood." Jeyne's voice called out, as she crunched her way through the snow to his side, pulling him from his unhappy reverie.

"I'm about to go." He said. He never knew this place had a Godswood until just over a moons turn ago, when a Northern man had been passing through and had asked. When Jeyne had showed the guest, Gendry had followed: the snow had stopped for the first time in weeks, it was a moonless night, and for the first time in his life Gendry knelt in front of a wierwood and prayed.

"The wolves distracting you?" Jeyne asked, "I wish they'd be quiet, they're scaring some of the younger ones. Have you ever heard them howl like that?" She asked.

"Once," Gendry admitted, remembering the howls he had heard around the time of the Red Wedding. "But it was different." He frowned.

"Different?" Jeyne asked.

"That time, their howls were full of grief," He remembered, thinking back to how those howls had almost echoed the heart-wrenching pain he had been feeling at the time. "Full of pain and loss. But this is different: this is," he paused, thinking, a pained expression on his face, "It's like a rallying cry, almost? Like their calling out for others to join them." He shrugged, "I don't know. But they'll stop soon, they'll move off."

Jeyne laughed, "You talk wolf now, do you?" she joked. To this day she did not know whom the girl was that Gendry had come here looking for, and Gendry had never told her, so she had no idea that wolves, to Gendry, meant Arya.

Gendry pushed himself away from the wall, "I'm going to the Godswood. I'll come in later." He said, making to leave.

"You pray for her, don't you?" Jeyne said suddenly, her voice sobering up. "The girl you came here looking for, you pray for her return? Still, after all these years?" Gendry didn't answer, but he stopped walking. "She was from the North, wasn't she?" Jeyne asked.

Gendry turned at that, "Is. She is from the North. How did you know?" He asked, wondering if Jeyne knew it was the last Stark he had been searching for and praying for.

Jeyne shrugged, "Because why else would you be praying to the Old Gods? You're from the south, where they worship the Seven." Jeyne paused and looked at him intently, "I hope they hear you." She said after a moment, "Maybe then you might be happy."

She turned away and went back to the inn, and Gendry turned to go to the Godswood: Jeyne had been right, he prayed to the Old Gods because they were Arya's Gods. He had never been a religious person, but had been taught to pray to the Seven. He had tried that, all along the King's Road, asking them to keep him and Arya safe. But they had been chased, kidnapped, and barely escaped with their lives – the Seven had been no help whatsoever. Regardless, when Arya disappeared he prayed to the Seven to bring her back, prayed to the Seven to help him find her.

When they failed him, he tried praying to R'hollor, but he had been just as useful as the Seven, so after a year he tried praying to them both. And of course, that was no use whatsoever.

So when he had discovered there was a Godswood, he had tried praying to the Old Gods and he had prayed every night for over a month. Maybe they had heard him: wolves hadn't howled like this in a long time – he used to hear the wolves every night when he had been travelling with Arya, but once she left, the howling had stopped. Now that the howling had returned, perhaps Arya had returned also. Or maybe he was just clutching at the faintest of hopes, because it was the only thing stopping him from sinking into despair.

Nearly a month later, he began to put more store in his hopes, when Jeyne came to the forge late in the afternoon.

"Harwin is here." She said simply. Gendry turned to look at her, and she nodded telling him he had heard her right. He threw down his tools and practically ran to the Inn.

When Harwin and Thoros had left four years ago, they had promised Gendry they would continue to search for Arya, and if they had any promising leads they would come to him. And in return, should Arya return the same way she had left, or should Gendry hear something promising from people passing through, he would go to the Brotherhood directly with his findings.

They had come once before, when they had heard the rumours that Arya had been found and was being sent north to marry Ramsay Bolton. Gendry had heard the same rumour and had travelled to the King's Road to wait for her to pass. It hadn't been her. He knew it even before she came close enough to see her features: The Arya he knew was fierce, and dressed like a boy, but this girl was in a dress and riding like a proper little lady. When they came closer, he noticed the girl was riding of her own free will and none of the men escorting her appeared harmed in any way: no, that certainly wasn't Arya Stark. Arya Stark would have kicked and screamed, bitten and scratched at everyone as they forced her into a dress and made her sit the horse. They would have had to tie her to the saddle to get her to cooperate.

And this girl was all wrong – yes, he hadn't seen Arya in many months by this point, but still, he would have recognised her with ease. Her face was wrong, her hair was the wrong colour, and far too long. And her eyes - there was the most striking difference: Arya's eyes were the grey of steel, but they burned with fire most of the time. When she laughed, they sparkled, when she was angry the rage burned bright in them – but she never cried, at least not where anyone could see, and Gendry had never known her to show fear. But this girl, her eyes were brown; not even remotely close to the steely grey he was longing to see. And the expression: there was no fire in her eyes, instead there was fear, and tears. Whoever this girl was, she certainly wasn't Arya Stark.

Gendry had relayed all this to Harwin, when he had come the first time, and Harwin had gone off to report to Lady Stoneheart. But now he was back, and Gendry wondered if this had something to do with the wolves.

"What have you heard?" Gendry asked, as he entered the inn and took a seat opposite Harwin.

"Hello Gendry," Harwin said, sounding tired, "It's good to see you too. You look well." He smiled, speaking the pleasantries Gendry had forgotten.

Gendry ignored him, "What have you heard?" He repeated.

"It may sound like a long shot," Harwin began, "But two weeks ago, the wolves in the Riverlands starting acting strangely. For hours they howled non stop, I've never heard wolves howl like that-"

"Just after sunset?" Gendry asked,

"Dead on sunset," Harwin frowned, "How did you know?"

"The wolves around here, howling just the same, just after Sunset," Gendry told him. "You think it's a sign?" Gendry could hear the hope in his voice and felt ridiculous: he had never been one for superstition or religion, but when it came to finding Arya it seemed he was a desperate man.

"At first, I wasn't sure." Harwin admitted, "but a week later, news came from the south, that the wolves down there had done the same, not long after sunset. It's as if the howling started in the Riverlands and spread until all the wolves in Westeros were calling out. And there was other news." Harwin said slowly.

"What news." Gendry said, just as Jeyne came over with a pitcher of ale and two tankards. Harwin waited to speak until Jeyne had poured and left.

"There are rumours that the Ghost of Lyanna Stark was seen in Oldtown. That she left with an hundred men, heading north." Harwin said quietly.

Gendry frowned, "Who's Lyanna Stark?" He asked, trying to think if Arya had ever mentioned her.

"Lord Eddard's sister." Harwin explained, "She died young, when the Mad King was still alive. She's the one Robert Baratheon went to war for. It seems certain Stags have a weakness for Stark girls." He muttered before taking a swig of ale.

Gendry couldn't make head nor tail of this last comment, and right now he didn't much care what Harwin meant, all he cared about was what this might mean. "You think it's Arya?" He asked.

"Who else could it be?" Harwin said, "I never knew what Lyanna looked like as a child, but I saw her as a woman grown. When you and Arya came to us, I saw the difference in her from when she had been at Winterfell: she had grown, and was beginning to resemble her aunt in looks. Resembled her in temper too," Harwin smiled fondly, "Though I think Arya might be a little more wild, I suppose she would have had to have been, to survive the King's Road and Harrenhal." He commented his smile fading.

"You think now, then, that she will look more like her Aunt?" Gendry asked, becoming more hopeful by the minute.

Harwin nodded thoughtfully, "I think she will be her double: I thought she would grow to be, when I last saw her. And what age will she be now? It's been four years, nearly five? So she'll be five and ten? Maybe six and ten?"

Gendry shrugged, "I don't know how old she was when she disappeared: we'd been on the road so long, and in Harrenhal longer, we lost track of days, weeks, months. I don't even think Arya knew truly how old she was." Gendry admitted.

"Either way, Arya left us a child, by now she will be a woman grown. Almost of an age with Lyanna at the time of her death – if ever Arya is going to look the double her Aunt, it will be at this age." Harwin said.

"We have to go find her," Gendry said, making to stand, but Harwin put a hand on his arm, keeping him in place.

"Seven Hells, Gendry, I've just got here, I've ridden hard to get here as quick as I could. I'm not going anywhere before I get hot food down me, and I've slept in a bed." Harwin said, "We'll set out first thing tomorrow, I promise, but before we turn south, we need to return to Stoney Sept."

"Why?" Gendry asked, though he felt he already knew.

"Lady Stoneheart will want to hear what I've heard. I was near Harrenhal when I heard the rumours, and I came straight here to tell you. Lady Stoneheart probably wont thank me none, but she chose hanging Freys over following Arya's trail, you didn't." Harwin said; like Gendry, Harwin was uneasy with Lady Stoneheart's command. "And anyway, most of the men should be returning to Stoney Sept about this time, from there we can plan how best to find her. Send out groups in more than one direction." Harwin voiced.

Gendry didn't remain at the table long after that; when darkness fell he went out to the Godswood like he did every night, to pray that this Ghost of Lyanna Stark was in fact Arya, and to thank the Gods if it was. He then returned to the forge, where he found Jeyne waiting for him, a sad look in her eyes.

"You're leaving with Harwin, on the Morrow, aren't you." Jeyne said. It wasn't a question: she knew.

"Yes." Gendry said, moving to the corner where his pack was – he had never fully emptied it when he had decided to stay, there were still a small bundle of things at the bottom, but he didn't remove it. Instead, he began to put his limited necessities into it – it took all of three minutes.

"I knew you would be, I see the hope in your features, stronger than I have before. They've found her." She stated.

"Maybe." Gendry allowed, "Harwin has heard some promising rumours."

"Rumours?" Jeyne asked, "You're leaving us for rumours?" Gendry sighed, but Jeyne continued, her eyes starting to brim with tears, "Why can't you just forget her? If you forgot her, you could be happy here, with me." She finished.

Gendry knew that Jeyne had feelings for him, but he didn't return them: he had tried to, at one time, but it had only made things worse. It had been the night he had returned from his venture to the King's Road, his disappointment was severe and Jeyne had tried to comfort him. Being the fool that he was, and after having drunk a fair amount of ale to dull his senses, Gendry had let her comfort him. Only it hadn't comforted him in the least, and since then Jeyne's feelings had only grown.

"You know I can't." Gendry said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Why?" She asked, "Did I disappoint you? Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?"

"You know that's not it," Gendry said patiently, trying not to see the tears forming, "I shouldn't have led you on like I did: I didn't mean for it happen, I'm sorry. But I can't forget about her, I was supposed to keep her safe, I need to find her."

Jeyne turned her face away for a moment and took a breath, blinking away the tears. When she turned back around she had complete control of herself once again, "And what about the children? Who is to keep us safe?" She asked.

Gendry smiled, "Willow and yourself can take care of yourselves well enough, I've seen the proof." He reminded her, "But regardless, you will have Tommy." He told her.

Tommy was the oldest of the orphans, and for the past few years he had been working with Gendry in the forge.

"Tommy?" Jeyne repeated, "He is only a green boy of six and ten! He's never even seen a battle!"

"He is the same age I was when I first came here," Gendry reminded her patiently, "And he's strong and sensible and reliable. He knows how to work a forge well enough, I've taught him all I know. He can continue to bring in extra coin the way I did. You don't need me here now." He said.

Jeyne sighed, and nodded, finally admitting defeat, "I'll make some extra bread in the morning for you to take with you." She said, "I hope you find what you're looking for." She smiled sadly, before turning and leaving him alone; to try and get some sleep before setting off on what he prayed was not going to be some fruitless expedition.

A/N: Okay, so Gendry ended up being a little bit on the emotional side in this chapter, but he will show his more manly side further into the story lol This was just a bit of background chapter, to get up to speed with how Gendry has been spending his years.

Let me know what you thought, and tell me if you found the U2 lyric :) - By the way, if anyone has any requests of any songs they want me to use, let me know :)

Next chapter will be another one form Aegon's pov, not sure how long until it will be ready, but hopefully within a week.

xBx