A/N: Yay! A speedy update (well, compared to the last one - I can't promise the next one will be as quick).

Thanks for all my reviews, you guys are awesome! And thank you for waiting patiently. Last chapters lyrics(which no one seemed to get, this time around) were 'all we are is skin and bone, trained to get along, forever going with the flow' from Treacherous by Taylor Swift. And they were spoken by Maester Mathos. This chapter has a little something from Sheryl Crow slipped in there :)

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Chapter 10: Gendry

Gendry was hammering away at the folded steel in front of him, the ringing blocking out all noise as he worked on more swords for Arya's army. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't know he was being called from the doorway until a discarded scabbard hit him in the back of the head.

"What in seven hells was that for?!" Gendry shouted as he whirled around, swinging his hammer and looking ready to attack.

"You didn't hear a bloody word I was saying," Harwin chuckled, shaking his head in that maddening way that left Gendry feeling he was missing something. "We've been summoned to the council chamber – we have a visitor."

"Who is it?" Gendry asked, dropping his hammer, and taking off his apron.

"Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island – she and her men are being taken to Lady Stoneheart now, with Norrey, Knott and Maester Mathos in attendance. We need to go." Harwin insisted.

Gendry followed him from the forge and over to the manse, "did Arya summon us?"

Gendry was well aware of the frown that Harwin sent his way – he disapproved of Gendry's informality when it came to Arya. But Gendry found it strange to refer to Arya as 'Lady Stark' or 'Princess Arya', after she had vehemently scolded him into continuing to call her 'Arry' all those years ago. In her presence, it was different – calling her 'milady' just seemed to naturally roll of his tongue, despite how often it used to rile her – in all honesty, it was the fact that it did rile her that made him say it. He wished he could see that anger in her again, that fire in her eyes. He thought he had seen the odd flicker once in a while – the other day he had certainly seen it, when he had startled her in the Godswood. But she had quickly regained her composure, and soon the fire was quenched and only ice remained.

"Princess Arya-" Harwin amended him, bringing Gendry's thoughts back to the present, "-sent her squire to gather us. She should be joining us when she can. Ned has returned she wished to speak with him."

Gendry remained silent, but he couldn't stop the scowl from forming. He didn't like Ned; there was just something about him that grated on Gendry's nerves. He was arrogant, and just because he would be the Lord of Starfall he thought that made him better than everyone else. But that isn't the real reason you dislike him so much, a voice in the back of his head goaded. Gendry ignored the voice, and continued to walk in silence - some thoughts are best left alone.

When they entered the council chamber, everyone Harwin had mentioned was already present. Lady Stoneheart was perusing a piece of paper, a strange look on her face as she ran her fingers over the writing near the bottom of the page. Arya's squire, Lommy, was pouring wine and handing goblets round to everyone present. Norrey and Knott were sat at the opposite end of the table from Lady Stoneheart, looking gravely at the others, as though they were reluctant to join the conversation until their liege arrived. Maester Mathos stood close to the door, and looked to share in his fellows' concerns. The other four – whom Gendry didn't recognise, but who he took to be Lady Mormont and her men – were clustered around Lady Stoneheart, watching her warily as she read.

As they entered, Lady Mormont turned and her expression changed rapidly from wary uncertainty to unabashed astonishment as she surveyed Gendry.

"Seven Hells!" Lady Mormont exclaimed, unable to control her outburst. "It's like looking at a ghost. Are there any more dead men walking, whom I should be warned about?" She asked Harwin directly.

"We're all alive here, milady," Harwin assured her. "What is it that Lady Stoneheart is looking at?"

"Hang on," Gendry said – this was one instance in a long line of circumstances in which people around him seemed privy to some information concerning himself, of which he was still ignorant. Hearing of the return of Ned had left a bitter taste in his mouth – for reasons he avoided thinking about – and he was in no humour to suffer obscurities when it came to himself. He was sick of the unexplained looks, the whispers among the older men, and cryptic words of Harwin. There had always been something more important happening at the time and so Gendry had let it slide. But not now: right now they were waiting upon Arya's presence before anything important was to be said. This time, Gendry would get some answers.

"Whose ghost?" Gendry asked Lady Mormont, who frowned.

"What is your name?" She answered his question with one of her own.

"Does it matter? Who do I look like?" he persisted.

"Robert Baratheon. In his youth of course – before he became a fat and lazy drunk." Lady Mormont answered directly, before returning her gaze to Lady Stoneheart.

Gendry digested this new, and rather startling, revelation in complete silence. Did that mean what he thought it meant? He had never known his father's name – his mother had never said. Could it be possible?

He turned an accusatory look at Harwin, but Harwin just shook his head, "Not now-" he told Gendry, "-there will be time for that later. What brings you to the Brotherhood, Lady Mormont?" There was his answer, but now he had even more questions - yet once again, it seemed there were more important things to discuss.

"I didn't come seeking the Brotherhood, I came seeking Arya Stark. So that I could bend the knee to the Queen in the North, and offer her the swords I have at my command." She explained.

"Arya isn't a queen," Gendry countered, somewhat harshly - his temper still raised. "Not yet at least."

"Her brother was King, and he named her as his heir. Thus making her Queen," Lady Mormont told them. "If you don't believe me, read it for yourself."

Harwin and Gendry looked to Lady Stoneheart, who nodded and held out the paper she had been reading. Harwin went to take it from her, and quickly scanned the page, "It's real?" he asked of Lady Stoneheart, who nodded again.

"King Robb wrote it, in his own hand, before his army split. He made copies, but no doubt the others were destroyed when the men carrying them were killed. This one, and one in the possession of Jason Mallister, are the only ones left." Lady Mormont explained, "It has been signed by four witnesses – me being one of them – and marked with King Robb's own seal."

"Read it aloud," Gendry called out to Harwin, who dutifully obliged.

"This is the will and word of Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. Should I die with no heir by my lawful wife, the Lady Jeyne of House Westerling, I declare that my crown, Winterfell and the North, pass by rights to my Sister, Arya Stark, a Lady of Winterfell and Princess in the North.

Should my death occur before Arya is of age, I name my brother, Jon Snow, to rule as regent, until such time as Arya can claim her rights as Queen." Harwin read, before looking up at the room again. "It's written in his own hand – all this time, we thought Robb never named his heir."

"Shouldn't we be discussing this with Arya?" Gendry pointed out, "After all, this does concern her – this is her Brother's will, and she is our leader. We should not be discussing this behind her back."

"Which is what I said from the very beginning," Knott agreed.

"Princess Arya seemed reluctant to hold the title of Queen," Lady Mormont said carefully. "When I spoke to her before, she told me she was no queen – she said it would be up to her men to crown her."

"The Princess has no knowledge that this exists," Maester Mathos spoke from the doorway. "She believes her brother died without naming an heir, if she were to know, perhaps she would think different."

"Again, we should not be discussing this without her," Gendry said with force. "She needs to see this, and then we can have this discussion."

"Where are you going?" Harwin called out to Gendry who had turned his back to the group and was stepping toward the door.

"I will not plot behind milday's back," Gendry said over his shoulder. "Until she arrives, I want no more part in this."

Just as he reached out to grab the door handle, the door flew inwards causing Gendry to sidestep just in time before Arya herself stormed into the room. She was furious – that much was easy to see. And while seeing such wrath made the rest of the men take an involuntary step back, the sight made Gendry smile a small smile – the fire in her eyes was back.

"Edric Dayne?" She practically hissed directly at Lady Stoneheart, completely ignoring everyone else in the room. "I hadn't even come back into your life! I had barely set foot back on Westeros, and you had already married me off to Edric Dayne!?"

The smile that had been playing on Gendry's lips suddenly dropped and his stomach turned to lead at those words – Arya was betrothed?

"Why?" Arya demanded, "Even as a child, you knew that was not who I was! How could I have possibly changed? After what the years, and wars have done to you, how could you think they would have changed me in such a way?" Arya continued her tirade, her words becoming louder and sharper.

"Do you forget who I am?" Arya demanded, "Do you forget that I am not Sansa? After all these years, you still want me to be like her. If you want Sansa so badly, go and find her!" Arya shouted, gesturing back towards the door. "But don't expect me to follow. It's high time you see the daughter you have in front of you – I am a Stark. Your precious Sansa is a Lannister – where does your loyalty lie?" Arya demanded.

Gendry held his breath, not daring to move or make a sound – he had never seen Arya like this, especially not since her return. And he wasn't the only one; the rest of the room looked on with wide eyes and wary expressions bordering on fearful. What had started as a family argument had rapidly turn into almost treasonous accusations.

Lady Stoneheart rasped something, of which 'Sansa' and 'choice' was discernable.

"Not Sansa's Choice?" Arya repeated with disbelief. What came next sent a chill down Gendry's spine – the shouting was nothing compared to the ice that now dripped from every quiet word that followed.

"Sansa chose the Lannisters before we even made it to King's Landing. On the road, Sansa and her precious prince came upon the butcher's boy and I playing at swords. Joffrey drew his sword and attacked him, and when I went to defend, he turned his blade on me. I had naked steel at my throat, he was ready to spill my life's blood, and if it hadn't been for Nymeria you would have lost a daughter before any of your sons. And do you know what your precious little lady said in that moment? She did not cry out for Joffrey to leave me be, she did not beg him to have mercy. She said 'Arya! You ruin everything'-" Arya repeated her sisters words deliberately slow, punctuating every word, which sent a shiver down Gendry's spine – surely her own sister would not have done that? Would not have chosen that pathetic ponse of a prince over her own flesh and blood? Gendry thought, but Arya would never lie about something like that.

"-I was an inch from death, but all Sansa cared about was how my dying would ruin her future." Arya let the words hang for a moment, before continuing.

"Sansa became a Lannister that day. And when she was brought in front of the King, she couldn't even muster the Tully in her. Family, Duty, Honour: They are your words – but Sansa didn't speak for her family, nor did she do her duty and tell the truth as her King bid her. Instead she protected Joffrey. She was Joffrey's little lap dog, he could do wrong in her eyes. And she went running to Queen Cersei at every chance she got – she was a Lannister long before she married the Imp. And still, you want me to be like Sansa?"

Arya breathed deeply for a few moments, as Lady Stoneheart looked at her with an almost heartbroken expression – it was the most human that Gendry had ever witnessed Lady Stoneheart to be. In a moment Arya seemed to gather herself - the rage calmed, and her next words were delivered with calm authority.

"If you wish to have a perfect lady, such as Sansa, for your daughter, by all means you are free to go and take a dozen men with you to search for her. But do not expect me to follow you – I have an army to lead, a war to fight, and a Kingdom to recover. You will go to Lord Edric, and tell him of the mistake you made in offering me to him. Tell him I have no desire to marry, tell him anything – just fix your mistake. Tomorrow, the council will convene here, to discuss our first move, until then I have nothing more to say." Arya declared, before turning and striding from the room, leaving everyone in an uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, Lommy made to follow but Maester Mathos put a hand on his shoulder and gave a small shake of his head.

"I would give her space," the Maester said, "She is a true Stark, she has the temper of a wolf – let her calm."

Gendry stepped back into the room, striding over to Harwin. Without a word, he snatched the paper from Harwin's hand and strode back toward the door.

"What-?" Harwin started to protest.

"See what happens when people plot behind her back?" Gendry pointed out. "She needs to read this, and the longer we keep it from her, the angrier she will be." He declared, before following Arya's footsteps, and leaving the rest of the council behind.

As he exited the manse he stopped; he had no idea where she might have gone. He had never seen her lose her temper like that – perhaps he had once, when they were younger, but he still didn't know where she would likely go to wait out that anger.

His only idea was that she would crave solitude, and the only place to get that would be the Godswood, so he struck out towards the back of the town. As he neared the forge, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of steel being hammered, which caused him to frown – Brett should not be in there without him.

With a frustrated sigh, he bent his track and entered the forge, stopping short at the sight before him. The blade he had been working on earlier was ingeniously strapped to the anvil, allowing the forger to wield the hammer with two hands. And just how she was managing to swing the weight with such force, and accuracy, Gendry would never know – Arya was tiny, but gods she was strong.

"What in seven hells are you doing?" Gendry shouted above the ringing of steel.

Arya whirled at the sound, the anger still flaring in her eyes, "What does it look like I'm doing, stupid?"

For a moment, she was back – his 'Arry', the girl he had first met, who was full of defiance and passion and fire.

"It looks like you're ruining good steel," Gendry retorted, trying not to smile: despite the anger and tension that filled the room, seeing her so animated – so like her old self - made him happy.

Arya growled – actually growled – as she dropped the hammer and practically tore the blade from its bindings and plunged into a bucket, before tossing it none too gently at Gendry's feet. "I apologise for ruining your perfect steel, sir," she hissed with sarcasm. "Please, tell me where I went wrong so that I may fix it."

Gendry picked up the sword and examined it with surprise, "This is actually not bad – where did you learn to do this?" He asked, looking back up at Arya with a frown.

When his eyes met hers, his stomach dropped: already the fire he had seen earlier was dying, and the ice was taking over again.

"Nowhere," Arya gave her standard answer, and Gendry couldn't help but scowl.

"Nowhere," he repeated, shaking his head. He moved further into the room, tossing the blade back down on the pile of steel still needing to be worked, and retrieved a flagon and two cups from a sideboard. "For four years you have been nowhere? And you expect me to believe you? I know you call me stupid, but I'm not that stupid."

"I spent four years becoming no one, belonging nowhere." Arya countered, not looking at Gendry. "To truly be no one, one must be able to be everyone. And to be everyone one must know something of everything."

Gendry could make neither head not tail of this explanation of contradictions, so instead of a response, he simply handed her a cup of ale.

"Did you know?" Arya asked after a moment.

Gendry frowned, "know what?"

"About Lady Stoneheart's agreement with Ned Dayne." Arya said, and Gendry was relieved to hear some anger in her tone – however slight. The ice may be back in her eyes, but at least it hadn't reached her core yet.

"No. But it was to be expected," he said carefully. "Did you really not see it coming?"

Arya gave him a withering look, "I just lost my temper in front of half my council – of course I did not see it coming." Arya sighed, looking down at the mug in her hands, "I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"I'm glad you did," Gendry said quietly, not looking at Arya anymore.

"Why?" she demanded, in that commanding tone of hers.

"Because it showed me that the Arya Stark I used to know is still in there, somewhere." Gendry looked up at her once again, wearing a frown, "Do you know how different you are? In many ways you're still the same: you're still small and skinny, despite how much you've grown; your hair is the same tones I remember it, and your eyes the same shape and colour. But you're so cold: it's like you're made of ice, you show no emotions in any situation. But just now, when you stormed into the room and took no notice of anyone except Lady Stoneheart, your fire was back. While everyone else took a step back, and visibly coward at your fury, I felt relieved. I finally had proof that the girl I once knew was still in there somewhere – that she can still be found, and brought back. It's gone now: since you set down the hammer, your wall has come back up – that fire has frozen over," Gendry told her, now looking back down at his hands, not wanting to meet her eyes. It was unfair that no emotion registered in her eyes, while he knew everything he was feeling would be so clearly displayed for her to read. He remained silent, waiting for Arya to speak, to maybe even address why she was so cold.

"Why should it be expected?" Arya said eventually, completely avoiding what Gendry had just divulged, "The proposal, why shouldn't it surprise me?"

Gendry sighed, "Because it was spoke of not long after we joined up with the Brotherhood. Lord Beric had the idea not long before the Hound took you."

"And no one thought to mention this to me?" Arya asked calmly.

"Back then, when I first heard it mentioned, you weren't talking to me." Gendry reminded her, "And I didn't know it had been discussed between Ned and your mother-"

"She's not my mother." Arya said quietly.

"What?" Gendry asked, confused. "But Harwin-"

"Before she died, she was my mother. But whatever Lord Beric brought back – it's not Catelyn Stark. I thought it was, but it's not. My mother would not have done that to me." Arya continued to speak quietly, her eyes trained on the mug in her hand, so that Gendry could not see her eyes, nor any emotions that may have been displayed there.

"Are there any more plots I should be made aware of?" Arya then asked, her eyes snapping back up to meet Gendry's. "What was in discussion prior to my arrival?"

"Lady Mormont was telling us to convince you to take your title of Queen in the North." Gendry admitted, "I was about to come look for you – I felt the conversation shouldn't continue until you were there, but before I could leave you arrived."

Arya shook her head looking exasperated, "She called me 'Your Grace' when I first saw her – I told her it isn't in my power, Robb never named me his heir."

Gendry drew out the letter from his pocket and held it out, "this says different," he said quietly.

Confusion flittered briefly across Arya's features, but Gendry saw it. She took the paper wordlessly, and unfolded it to read its contents. Gendry watched her closely as she read, but was little rewarded for his efforts. Her eyes flickered momentarily with some emotion, but it was over too quickly for Gendry to interpret it. He was amazed – truly amazed – at how in so short a time she had quelled every feeling that had previously risen, and restored that cold and blank façade. After a moment, Arya's fingers went to trace over the same words Lady Stoneheart had seemed to trace.

"Robb-" Arya whispered, and Gendry could hear in her voice that – while she didn't show it in her features – the words written in front of her had effected her. Whatever else she was about to say was drowned out by the sudden howling that erupted from somewhere nearby. While it made Gendry start, he wasn't too concerned – after only a few days of Arya's presence, Gendry had become accustomed to Nymeria and her pack.

Arya cleared her throat, and tried again, "Robb named me his heir. He never believed me dead."

"So it would seem," Gendry nodded, "You can call yourself Queen: if you want it, you can have it – there are many in the North who would bend the knee, I'm sure. If it's what you want."

"It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you have," Arya said, folding up the letter and tucking it into the doublet she wore – as ever she was dressed in men's garb. "I can call myself Queen, but will men follow?"

"I think they would," Gendry said seriously. "Especially if the right people start – many will follow wherever Harwin and I lead."

"They are still struggling to see me as a princess, let alone a Queen."

"Then make them see you as one," Gendry suggested. Struck by a sudden thought her went into the corner and delved to the bottom of his travelling pack. Returning to his seat, he elaborated, "You already act the part – no one can doubt your authority. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to look the part," he suggested, holding out the bundle to her.

Arya looked at it, as cold as ever, "I hope you're not suggesting I start wearing gowns."

"That wouldn't be very practical to fight in," Gendry grinned. "No, I'm not – just take the damn thing."

Arya took the package he was offering, and unwrapped it to reveal the crown inside. Her eyebrows rose at the sight, but no other mark of surprise crossed her features, "You made this."

It wasn't a question, but Gendry affirmed it none the less.

"When?" Arya asked him, and Gendry could feel her gaze on him though he never lifted his eyes.

"Years ago," Gendry admitted with a shrug. "A girl I knew was angry at a bad decision I had made. I was hoping to give it to her as a peace-offering, so that she might be presented to her brother, the King in the North, looking more like a proper princess."

The silence that followed felt like an eternity to Gendry, who still couldn't bring himself to look up at Arya and see her reaction. Eventually, just when he thought he would go mad with suspense, the silence was broken.

"Thank you," Arya said quietly. "I like it – it's very fitting for one of the North."

Gendry looked up at her then, wondering if she was really telling the truth, "You do?"

Arya nodded, "I've heard what Robb's crown was like – this is like a smaller version. You used the same metals."

Gendry nodded, trying to ignore the surge of pride that he felt at Arya's commendation. "I'm glad it pleases you, milady."

Arya's eyes narrowed, and suddenly the tongs that were on the bench beside her were sailing through the air towards Gendry's head.

"Don't call me, milady." Arya growled, sounding so much like her old self that Gendry wondered it was a habit she had little control over.

"Seven hells!" Gendry yelled, as he threw himself to the side so that the tongs narrowly missed him, "what did you throw them for?"

"There wasn't any crab-apples handy," she retorted with smirk, so quick that Gendry was sure Arya had not thought of the words before she had spoke them.

He was momentarily caught by surprise that she would remember that – it had been years; it was one of last times she had actually spoken to him. He couldn't help it; he let out a startled laugh.

"You remember that?" He asked sounding amazed.

"I do." Arya said quietly, barely louder than a whisper, before looking away from Gendry and back down into her lap. Silence reigned for a moment more, before Arya suddenly stood.

"I need to go – I have to speak with Lady Mormont. And then I need to go over the plans for tomorrows meeting." Arya looked up again, meeting Gendry's eyes once more, "Thank you, for this-" she gestured the crown in her hands, which she then folded back in its rags, "- it's exactly what I was needing."

She left then, quickly, leaving Gendry to his thoughts, which were more confusing than they had ever been. Arya was intoxicating – there was no other word for it. Even though he was holed up in the forge for hours on end, he still took brief respites. Whenever he would step outside into the cold winter air to cool off, his eyes would automatically seek out her form. And when they found rested on her, they were mesmerised: when she was sparring in the training yard, she had a grace about her that was almost unreal. In everything she did, she excelled; her arrows never missed their targets - and she had made some interesting shots. Gendry's personal favourite was shooting a crow as it flew overhead, with such precision it landed at her feet – the smirk she had given Anguy after that particular feat was one he would never forget (Anguy's previous attempt at such a shot missed its mark).

And on those rare occasions when the ice behind her eyes seemed to melt, Gendry thought he could look into them forever without ever wanting to turn away. He was now very much aware of her beauty – more so since the incident in the woods. When she had tackled him to the ground, it wasn't just her strength and speed that had surprised him; it was how much he enjoyed the contact. It was the first time he had touched her since he had hugged her on her return. And to feel her again, to know she was solid and very much real, eradicated all doubts of her staying that he never knew he had. The feel of her hand on his chest, her legs tight around his waist, was something he never wanted to let go of – and it was this that truly surprised him. At the time, he had never wanted her to move, but his mind had begun to wander into dangerous territory – he was thinking things that would get him arrested, anyone were to discover them – and removing her from his waist was a necessity rather than a want.

That had been the first time he had really seen Arya in that light: she was beautiful – she always had been, even when they were young he had seen a beauty in her strength – and now every time he saw her, he had to consciously stop himself from thinking about the feel of her in his arms. Unfortunately, his mind ran riot while he slept, and if anyone ever discovered the content of his dreams, he would likely be castrated – nevermind arrested: This was Arya: his liege, his princess – who would one day be his Queen. And he was just a bastard knight: the thoughts he had could never happen.

But your not just a common bastard, a voice in his head countered, apparently you're a King's bastard.

Gendry stood up, and began stoking the furnace to bring up the heat. Could he truly be King Robert's bastard? It would fit with the few things that Harwin had mysteriously said; it would explain the whispers. But why keep it quiet?

This startling revelation brought about more questions than it had answered, and Gendry was frustrated with what he had learnt: He had never liked King Robert - he was a drunken sot - and now he was being told he was like him, because he was the man's son. And to be told so bluntly - to be delivered the blow and then not talk about it, to not have his questions answered, was just too much to take.

When the furnace was ablaze once more, Gendry took out his frustrations the best way he knew how.

A/N: So, Gendry finally knows the truth, but will it change anything? I have the next couple of chapters well planned out - I've even drafted a few parts of both, but it still might be a couple of weeks before they're ready to be posted.

Thanks for reading, and I'll update as soon as I can.

xBx