A/N: Wow, I really have been awol with this update, haven't I? I'm so sorry for making you wait guys! A combination of RL, writer's block and illness. But I'm back.

Thanks for all my reviews to last chapter - I'm sorry I never got around to replying to them all, but I did read them, thanks for all your input, I really appreciate it :)

Last chapter's song lyric was 'Gone for so long now, I gotta get back to her somehow' from American Honey, by Lady Antebellum. This chapter has a Linkin Park lyric hidden in there somewhere.

Hope you like the chapter.

xBx

Chapter 8: Arya

Arya left the warmth of the forge to follow Harwin across the square and into the manse that Lady Stoneheart had taken residence in. It had been a long couple of weeks since coming face to face with Harwin and his men: as soon as they crossed the Blackwater they were accosted by a large Lannister host, who looked to be marching east to reinforce the numbers at King's Landing. The battle was bloody, but Arya had wolves on her side and the Lannisters didn't stand a chance. Unfortunately the Lannisters had training on their side: while Arya's men were not bad with weapons, and had been steadily improving thanks to Aegon's soldiers training them every evening when they made camp, there was still much room for improvement, and as such Arya's force sustained a good number of losses.

After the battle, they had remained stationary for a couple of days for the worst of their injuries to heal, and Arya had sent a raven to Storms End alerting Aegon to her progress with the Brotherhood and the new movements of the Lannisters, as well as suggesting that the time was now right to send for the Dornish Armies and begin marching on King's Landing. From everything Harwin had told her, Arya was as sure of the Brotherhood as she was ever going to be.

Battered and bloody, she had arrived at Stony Sept in dire need of a hot bath to remove the layer of dirt and blood, as well as a dose of Milk of the Poppy to ease the pains in her ribs that had returned after the hard days ride, but Arya was made to wait for her relief. After seeing that her men were camped just outside the walls, she followed Harwin through the square towards Lady Stoneheart's quarters, intending to follow him all the way until they passed the forge. Harwin had said little of Gendry, only that he had spent the past few years at the Crossroads Inn, working the forge and looking after orphans who would then go on to travel with the Brotherhood when they came of an age. Arya had asked no questions; after all, Gendry had chosen the Brotherhood over her, why should she care what he was doing? Instead, she and Harwin discussed Lady Stoneheart: Harwin explained how Lord Beric had given his life to bring her back, he told Arya of her appearance and her inability to properly talk, and most importantly about her thirst for revenge and how it was dividing the Brotherhood.

Arya wasn't sure how she was feeling about seeing her Mother: there were certainly some emotions swirling around her, but after four years of suppressing every feeling, it was hard to let them back in now. She was certainly anxious: Arya was well aware she had not grown into the little lady her mother had hoped she would, and as such she was conscious of the possibility of being a disappointment – perhaps this was why she had made the rash decision to step into the forge; any excuse to delay.

"You go ahead," She had said to Harwin, "Alert Lady Stoneheart of my arrival. Find me when she is ready to receive me; I should see about getting my armour fixed." Harwin gave her a strange look, but nodded and continued on without her.

"Nymeria, stay." She told her direwolf at the door, as she entered the forge silently. Gendry didn't notice her immediately; he was too absorbed in his work. She watched him silently for a few moments, taking in his appearance: She had always been aware that Gendry was considered handsome – he had always been tall, strong, and well muscled, and every girl they came across would always bat their eyelashes and simper over him. But looking at him now, she realised how 'handsome' was somewhat of an understatement. From what she could see of his profile as he worked, taking in the way his muscles moved and twitched under the thin shirt that was currently sticking to his skin, Arya knew he was one of those rare exceptions whom could go into a whorehouse and take what he wanted for free. Arya had spent one of her assignments working in the Happy Port, where she was only a plain faced serving girl – she had to be trained in the arts of pleasure before she could be bought, and the girls in charge of training her had often spoke of the type of men they'd love to service for free. Arya had completed her assassination before she had been sold, and had disappeared with her maidenhood still in tact, but the things she had been told still stuck in her mind.

When Gendry had plunged the sword into the water and began slicing the air, Arya had pushed away the feelings stirring in the pit of her stomach, and spoken aloud, finally drawing attention to her presence. His reaction had been somewhat comical, and while the Arya she had once been with him would have laughed, the Arya she was now remained calm and still, betraying no hint of amusement. She hadn't known what to expect from their first meeting, a few awkward exchanges perhaps? But what she wasn't ready for, was him throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace. She had tensed at first, as his arms put pressure on her injured ribs, but when she took a deep breath in an attempt to control the pain she inhaled his scent. As her senses were accosted with the smells of fire, steel and the woods, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, allowing the comfort of his embrace.

From nowhere she was accosted by memories and emotions: she felt safe and protected, like she used to do when they were on the road together and only had each other. She thought of the last time she had been held by him: the day she had tried to stab the Hound after his fight with Lord Beric, Gendry had grabbed her tight and held her as she struggled, stopping her from doing something stupid.

When Gendry let her go, she quickly got a handle on these emotions, quelling them back down to nothingness, her face the calm mask belonging to No One. When he had asked her where she had been, she had given her automatic response: Who are you? No One. Where have you been? Nowhere.

She was confused about the direction their conversation had taken: it was never her intention to argue, and she had kept her voice level and her emotions in check, but Gendry had seemed to fire up rather quick. When Arya had told him that she knew the reason he had joined the Brotherhood, he seemed genuinely surprised at her assumption, and even upset, which confused Arya even more as she could think of no other reason why he would join. It was then that Harwin had reappeared; calling her back to the reason she had come here.

There was no other distraction she could justifiably find; she couldn't put this meeting off any longer, and Arya was sure the tension she was feeling would be showing slightly through her posture. She left the forge, shivering slightly as she walked back out into the cold. Harwin was still bundled up in his furs, but Arya had removed hers at the camp: the furs were heavy, and the weight was putting extra strain on her already aching body. Nymeria padded after her silently, as Harwin led her into the Manse and along to the room where Lady Stoneheart waited. At the door, Arya's mind snapped out from the thoughts of her initial meeting with Gendry, and back into the present.

Harwin opened the door, "Catelyn." He said quietly, "Your daughter." Arya stepped through the doorway, nodded to Harwin to let him know she would be fine, and commanded Nymeria to wait outside, before looking at the figure standing at the fireplace. She was wearing a cloak, with the hood pulled up hiding her hair and pulled far forward so that when she turned, Arya still couldn't see her face.

Despite being unable to see the emotions playing on Lady Stoneheart's face, Arya was able to read her posture well enough to see the tension that had sprung at Harwin's announcement turn to shock before melting into relief.

"Arya." Lady Stoneheart rasped.

"Hello Mother." Arya said simply, and Lady Stoneheart's head twitched to the side, no doubt confused at the strange accent. "You can remove your hood, I've already seen your face." Arya told her mother.

Lady Stoneheart removed her hood with hesitation, confusion clearly etched on her face at Arya's words. "How?" She asked.

Arya smiled, "Nymeria was the one to pull you from the river," she explained, taking in her mother's appearance, not balking at the bloated skin, or the pink gouges down her cheeks and the slice across her neck. "I was in her mind at the time, so I saw what the Frey's did to you."

Lady Stoneheart gave her daughter a sad smile and moved towards her with arms outstretched. She stopped a breath away from Arya, suddenly unsure about her movements, clearly wondering if her little girl could stomach the touch of her.

Arya smiled again, and closed the distance between the two, encircling her arms around Lady Stoneheart and holding her tight. "I missed you." Arya whispered, not realising until that moment, just how true that statement was.

She didn't smell like Arya remembered: she smelt like damp and decay. Which, when Arya thought of it, wasn't so surprising considering she had spent days in a river after her death. But regardless of her appearance and her smell, Arya did not shy away – she had seen many worse things in the House of Black and White.

Lady Stoneheart pulled back, and placed cold hands on either side of Arya's face. Arya watched her mother's face closely, and could see that if Lady Stoneheart were capable of producing tears they would have been falling thick and fast.

"Beautiful." Lady Stoneheart rasped, but it came out so unclear that Arya had to lip-read to fully understand.

Arya gave a small smile, but otherwise her face showed no emotion at the words: Despite the fact she was moved by her mother's praise, four years of teaching was so completely ingrained in her that Arya sometimes struggled to even feel emotions nowadays, let alone show them. This was not lost on Lady Stoneheart, who frowned as she delicately ran her thumbs under Arya's eyes.

"Why?" Lady Stoneheart asked, only managing to sound out one word at a time. This time it was Arya's turn to frown, not fully understanding the question, nor what Lady Stoneheart was so confused about.

"Why what?" Arya asked slowly, trying to understand without words.

Lady Stoneheart swallowed, and the gash along her neck contorted grotesquely. With careful deliberation, she gently ran her thumbs over Arya's eyelids, causing them to flutter shut for a moment. When Arya opened her eyes again, she saw Lady Stoneheart form the words, "cold," and "dead," and Arya understood: She was asking why Arya's eyes were so lifeless; why they were now ice instead of fire.

Arya wasn't sure how to respond, where to start, and as she was thinking of her response she couldn't help but realise the irony of her Mother's question: out of the two of them, it was Lady Stoneheart who was dead and cold – Warm blood still ran through Arya's veins, and she had never lost her life. Before she could stop it, a laugh escaped her, and she brought a hand to her mouth to stop the outburst.

Lady Stoneheart looked even more confused at Arya's sudden burst of mirth, which only made Arya laugh more.

"I'm sorry," Arya said, shaking her head, "But out of the two of us, I believe you are more 'cold' and 'dead' than I am." She pointed out.

Lady Stoneheart gave her a look that Arya knew well from her childhood: the look that told Arya she was walking on very thin ice, and the next words out of her mouth had better be a satisfactory explanation of her behaviour otherwise something was going to be taken from her. In that moment, Arya was an eight-year-old girl, back in Winterfell, in trouble over skipping out of her lessons. The thought sobered her instantly: the memory that came back to her was clearer than any she had had of home since leaving King's Landing all those years ago.

Something must have shown on her face, however slight, for it made Lady Stoneheart's features soften, "Where?" She asked then, and Arya knew she was asking where she had been all this time.

Arya swallowed, and then forced her smile back on her face, "We have lots to talk about." She said, finally pulling away and moving to take a seat. "I assume Gendry will have told you how I escaped King's Landing, and how we ended up with the Brotherhood in a roundabout way?" Lady Stoneheart took a seat facing her daughter and nodded, so Arya continued.

"You will have heard that the Hound took me. He intended to bring me to you and Robb. We came so close, only a wall separated us." Arya saw the wariness, and - was it fear? – Flicker in Lady Stoneheart's eyes, and she knew the unasked question.

"Yes," Arya nodded, "I was there the night of the Red Wedding," she confirmed, "The Hound dragged me away. From there we wound our way to Saltpans – the Hound died along the way, Harwin told me they came across his body. At the Saltpans I bought passage on a ship and sailed across the Narrow Sea." Arya paused, and chewed her lip – the old habit coming back to her so easy. Should she tell her Mother? If anyone would understand the things she had done it would be here, wouldn't it? Perhaps the mother she used to be would not have understood, but Lady Stoneheart understood revenge and death better than anyone.

"I went to Braavos, and I spent four years there. Learning." Arya said carefully, "Learning to be No One." Lady Stoneheart surveyed Arya carefully, and Arya lost the nerve to continue: Lady Stoneheart didn't need to know everything she was taught, not now at least.

Arya let a smile play on her lips, "You would have been proud of me, Mother. I listened well to my teachers, and learned a lot." She said, trying to lighten the mood, "I was a far better student for them, than I ever was for Septa Mordane."

Mother and daughter looked at each other carefully for a few minutes, coming to a silent understanding that while one wanted to question, the other was not willing to answer, and the pair came to a mutual agreement that this conversation was not to be had in this moment.

"Harwin filled me in a little on your vengeance seeking. Every Frey you come across, you hang." Arya stated, after a moment, and Lady Stoneheart merely nodded.

"I understand your need for vengeance, Mother." She said, "I want the same thing. But this is much bigger than the Freys."

Lady Stoneheart looked at Arya intently, as if willing her to understand her thoughts without having to speak. Arya looked at her mother just as intently, reading her body language and piecing together her thoughts by looking into her eyes.

"I can't begin to imagine what went on behind the doors at the Twins – but I saw enough on the outside. The Freys butchered Robb, and killed you. I understand how much you need to seek vengeance – but Robb was not your only child." Arya reminded Lady Stoneheart carefully, measuring every word and not showing any emotion.

"The Lannisters have played an equal part in tearing down our family: they started this when they took father's head. The Greyjoys have destroyed the North, burnt Winterfell, and murdered Bran and Rickon. The Boltons have stolen the ruins of Winterfell, claiming them in my name. I've come back because I want to go home. By all means, take down as many Freys as you can in the process, but from now on, reclaiming the North is priority." Arya stated, authority creeping into her voice.

"You are my mother, and I am asking you now to back me as you once backed Robb. I am the last Stark; Robb's rightful heir, and intend to finish the battles he started. But I will need men. I already have Harwin's backing, and he is confident in many of the Brotherhood following his lead. I know you have others out looking for me – a party lead by Thoros, and another led by Ned Dayne. Harwin sent a rider to follow after Ned and tell them to return. And no doubt Thoros will already be on his way here, having glimpsed something in his fires. When everyone is assembled I would like to meet with leaders." Arya paused here, waiting for Lady Stoneheart's acquiescence to her proposition.

Lady Stoneheart nodded, while surveying Arya with a strange look hinting at bittersweet remembrances. But Arya ignored it and continued.

"You do not have to follow me, if you do not wish – you can remain in the Riverlands. And I will not force men to follow me, but if they chose to swear their swords to me, I ask that you let them follow me freely."

Arya surveyed the room they were sitting in: it was large, with a good-sized table sitting in the centre around which at least twenty men could be seated. "Would you object to me using this room? When the rest of the men return, I should like to meet in here."

Lady Stoneheart nodded, and then smiled sadly, mouthing the words: "so like your father."

Arya smiled at the words, half of which came out in a rasp, the others not at all. "Thank you." She said, ignoring the unbidden memories tugging at the corners of her mind.

Arya stood before an awkward silence could ensue, "Forgive me, Mother," she announced, "It has been a long ride, I need food and rest. I will talk with you on the Morrow."

Arya left the room and was greeted by Nymeria, waiting patiently to follow wherever her master would lead. Arya made her way back out to where her men were camped, in search of Maester Mathos. She found him just outside her tent, awaiting her patiently and tending to a fire burning at the mouth.

"How was Lady Stoneheart?" He asked.

"Exactly as I was expecting." Arya told him truthfully, before quickly surveying the camp, as Nymeria bounded off to hunt with her pack. "It's quiet."

"Many of the men have made their way in to the Peach, I believe." Mathos explained, following her into her tent, "How are your ribs?"

"They ache." Arya said.

"They haven't been re-strapped for a couple of days, perhaps I should redo them?" Maester Mathos suggested, but Arya shook her head.

"Not yet. I haven't bathed in weeks; I'm covered in blood and dirt. Just some Milk of the Poppy for now, and then I will go in search of hot water."

"Lommy is seeing to it as we speak – I sent him for a tub a half hour ago." Mathos declared as he rummaged through his vials, "A couple of men who have returned to camp say they saw him near the Peach."

Arya chuckled, "I won't hold my breath for that bath then. At least not for another hour or so."

Mathos smiled, and handed her a goblet of ale in which he had mixed some Milk of the Poppy, "The men also said there was a Godswood at the rear of the town – perhaps you can pass the time in there, if you do not wish to sit around." He suggested, knowing Arya well enough by now to know she was a restless spirit.

Arya frowned, "There's a Godswood? This far south?"

"Apparently so." Mathos confirmed, "Though I would wager it is what the Southerners call a Godswood."

"What does that mean? A Godswood is a Godswood." Arya said.

"In the North, a Godswood is full of ancient wierwoods, with a heart tree at its centre. In the south a Godswood is a patch of forest with a wierwood planted randomly in the midst." Mathos declared, causing Arya to chuckle once again.

"Perhaps I will go see this Godswood." Arya said after a moment of thought, thinking it would be nice to stand in front of a wierwood once again. "I shall return in an hour or so."

Arya made her way back through the camp and back into the town, greeting people here and there as they greeted her – she was amused at the many forms of courtesies she was shown: some called her 'milady', one or two 'princess'. One young boy even knelt in the snow and called her 'your grace," much to her amusement – though she didn't let it show.

She found her way out to the Godswood, and just as Mathos had predicted, it was nothing but a clearing in the forest, at the centre of which was a single wierwood. What surprised her was that there was already someone kneeling at it.

Arya stood quietly for a moment: despite the thick snow on the ground, Arya had been silent in her approach thanks to years of training, and as such her arrival had gone unnoticed. The person knelt at the tree suddenly lifted their head to gaze up into the branches of the wierwood, and Arya recognised the shock of untidy black hair.

"I never knew you prayed to the Old Gods." Arya commented, successfully startling Gendry to his feet.

"I didn't use to, milady." Gendry admitted, "but I do now."

Arya ignored the 'milady', "Why did you change?" She asked moving forward to stand in front of the wierwood.

"The other Gods never answered my prayers." Gendry said truthfully.

"But the Old Gods did?"

"Yes. It took them four months to listen, but they answered in the end." He told her.

Arya looked up a Gendry, "What did you pray for?"

Gendry was quiet for a moment, "Your return," he finally said, quietly. Arya looked at him thoughtfully, and then to the wierwood before gazing up to the sky. The stars were out, but the night was moonless.

"The first time you prayed to the Old Gods," she started slowly, "When was that?"

"It was a night like this – the stars were out, but there was no moon." Gendry told her with a frown, somewhat confused as to why it mattered. "the moon has turned four times since then. Why?"

Arya thought back over her journey: this would be her third black moon since setting foot in Westeros, the one before that she was on board Summer's Snow. Therefore the one before – the night on which Gendry first spoke to the Old Gods – would have been when she was still in Braavos.

"I remember that night." She told him, remembering her wolf dream from that time, "It was the first clear night in weeks; the snow had finally stopped. The Gods didn't take four months to listen, they heard you're first prayer and they answered. The following day was the day two men of the Night's Watch stumbled across me, one of whom recognised me. And then, in less than twelve hours I was sailing for Westeros."

Gendry was looking at Arya with a pained expression – the one he usually wore when he was thinking hard.

"If you were across the Narrow Sea, how do you know what that night was like in the Riverlands?" He asked.

Arya instinctively chewed her lip – should she tell him the truth? There was once a time she had trusted him with her identity, but that was before he had turned his back on her in favour of the Brotherhood.

Gendry gave a breath of laughter, and looked down at his feet, "You once trusted me with your biggest secret, but you can't tell me this?" he asked, echoing her thoughts.

"How did you know?" He repeated.

Arya decided to give some portion of the truth, "The same way I know that you were with Harwin, Thoros and Lord Beric when they came upon my Mother's body."

Whatever answer Gendry was expecting it wasn't that, and shock was clearly displayed on his face as he asked: "Which is what, exactly?"

Arya smiled, "A story for another time." Before Gendry could argue she asked her own question, which had been unanswered in the forge and had played on the back of her mind ever since. "You never answered my question before; about your intentions, your reasons for joining the brotherhood. What were they?"

Gendry looked confused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to explain, "I didn't join to leave you, like you thought." He said slowly, "I joined so I wouldn't have to leave you."

Arya looked at him for a moment, and suddenly her old temper broke through the ice that had built up, "Do you know how stupid that sounds?" she asked. "I was a hostage; the brotherhood were going to ransom me – by joining them you became one of my captors."

Gendry laughed, but only for a second, and Arya froze over once again, "I know now it was stupid. But at the time, it seemed like the best thing to do."

"At the time you could have come with me to Riverrun: My brother was a King, you would have had his thanks for helping to bring his sister safely to him. He would have given you a forge, and boys to work for you."

"Yes," Gendry said, "and you would have been up in the castle, and I would not have seen you again."

Arya frowned, "That's not true. You were my friend, they wouldn't have stopped me seeing you."

"Maybe not at first," Gendry conceded, "but eventually they would. I was just a bastard blacksmith and you were a princess. Eventually they would have stopped you from seeing me, dressed you in fine linen and married you off to some Lord."

"They wouldn't." Arya countered, "I wouldn't do it. But that still doesn't explain why you chose the Brotherhood."

"By joining the Brotherhood, I became a Knight." Gendry explained, "That opportunity doesn't come along for a common bastard like me – I was ridiculously lucky to even become an armourer's apprentice. To be made a Knight was amazing for me. A bastard smith is no fit company for a Princess to keep, but even a princess has Knights to guard her night and day." Gendry said, looking down at his feet, "By joining the Brotherhood, I could stand in front of your family with a title, and ask for a place in your personal guard. Though at the time, you could probably have defended yourself better than I could, but it would still allow me to see you every day."

Arya didn't know what to say; she drank in every word and knew he was telling the absolute truth.

"I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn't even matter," Gendry continued, "you were taken, and my title seems a bit pointless now." He was silent for a moment then, and Arya could feel him looking at her intently.

"I never betrayed your secret, you know," he said suddenly, and Arya frowned, "To this day I have never told a single soul that you are Arya of House Stark. Even when we went after you and the Hound - it's always been Harwin that's told your name, on the rare occasion we gave it. Even with Lady Stoneheart, I never said anything about you until Harwin told her I had been with you since King's Landing."

Arya looked back at Gendry just as intently as he looked at her, trying to find a lie but there was none to be found, and Arya realised that if she were going to trust anyone, Gendry would be the safest bet. But right now was not the moment.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "And thank you for praying for me."

They were silent a moment longer, until Gendry finally took his leave, leaving Arya to stand at the weirwood and pray to her Old Gods in peace.

A/N: So not a lot really happened in this one I know, it's more of a filler. But progress will start happening in the next one.

Thanks for waiting patiently, and I'll hopefully update quicker this time around.

xBx