A/N: Yay, I'm back with another update! We're back to Arya's pov, and we're slowly pushing the storyline along.

Thanks for all my reviews - you guys are great, and I'm loving the feedback :) Last chapter's lyric was 'It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you have' which is from Soak up the Sun, by Sheryl Crow. This chapter has a lyric from a Little Big Town song - if you find it, let me know :D A few chapters ago, Mariion gave me some song suggestions to use - I haven't forgotten them, I've got some lyrics picked out, but they will be used a little further in :)

Now I'll let you read, enjoy!

xBx

Chapter 11: Arya

Arya left the forge briskly; still carrying the crown bundled in one hand and her brother's letter close to her heart. It had affected her, a lot more than she thought it would. After four years of being no one, she had successfully learnt to quell all emotions to the point of not feeling anything. But since her return to Westeros - no, since her return to the Brotherhood - emotions were beginning to make their way back to the surface.

Since starting her first apprenticeship at the house of black and white, Arya had never lost he temper. But today, she had exhibited the wrath of her former self; she was losing control and she desperately needed to regain it.

As she trudged through the snow, back out to her tent, she let her mind relax and reached out to sense Nymeria - she was somewhere near, for when Arya had read her brother's words Nymeria had howled out the emotions that Arya was unable to express.

When she entered her tent she found Lommy, Mathos, Nymeria and her raven waiting for her. The raven flew from its perch to her shoulder as soon as she came through the flap, demanding food in the common tongue as well as Braavosi.

Nymeria looked at her with eyes of understanding – she had felt Arya's emotions earlier, and could possibly still feel them now. Yet she remained stationary, sitting at the foot of the cot, waiting for Arya to come to her.

It was Mathos who broke the silence: "Did Gendry seek you out?"

"He did," she affirmed, but made no mention of their discourse. "Lommy, could you gather something for supper: could you also seek out Lady Mormont and her men. Ask them to sup with me – I promised them an audience, and I should like to keep my word."

"At once, milady." Lommy promptly disappeared.

"Shall I leave you?" Maester Mathos asked, trying to gauge Arya's state of mind.

"No, you shall sup with us also. If it please you." Arya took a seat at the table and placed the bundle before her. "Sir Gendry gave me this," she said, unfolding the fabric and displaying the crown.

"Bronze and steel," Mathos commented. "A true Northern crown. Fit for a Princess, but perhaps not a Queen."

"But I am not a Queen," Arya pointed out.

"Not yet," Mathos ventured carefully and Arya sighed.

"Not yet."

They were silent many minutes, until Lommy returned and began preparing the table for the meal.

"Shall you wear it now?" Maths asked, indicating the crown.

Arya nodded slowly, "I don't see any reason not to." But she didn't venture to remove the crown from the fabric. It was only a circlet of bronze and steel, but to Arya it was so much more: once she donned her crown, there would be no turning back. She would be a princess, in more than just words, and the next step would be queen. And then she would most definitely be someone.

She had been no one for four years - was she ready to allow herself to be Arya Stark again? Arya Stark's memories had been coming back more forcefully since her return, but with the memories came the emotions. She had almost forgotten what it was like to feel - and some days she still retained enough of her training to continue to feel nothing. But today, she had felt more than she had felt in a long time: anger had boiled her blood, disappointment had cooled it, and the full realisation that she had truly lost her mother had saddened her. She had been saddened to the point that, when Gendry had handed her a paper covered in her brother's hand, she had been hard pressed to stop her eyes from tearing up.

"Allow me." Mathos interrupted her reverie gently, and lifted the circlet from the table to position it on her head. A perfect fit. Arya gathered herself together, more easily suppressing the emotions coursing through her now, than before.

"Does it suit?" she asked Mathos, with a smile she knew wouldn't be reflected in her eyes.

"Very well," Mathos assured, before turning to assist Lommy in his preparations. Nymeria chose that moment to pad over to Arya, an intelligent, querying look in her eyes, her head cocked to the side in silent question.

Arya smiled at her wolf - perhaps the only one to understand Arya, better than Arya understood herself. Nymeria gave a whine, and nudged her nose into Arya's shoulder, causing her to laugh.

"I'm fine, Nymeria," Arya assured her wolf quietly, so that no one else would hear. "We'll have our revenge: me for Robb, and you for Grey Wind. Seeing his hand was painful - but it's the pain that brings my force of nature back to life. Now go hunt - I know you want to."

Nymeria padded to the entrance of the tent, looking back once more before exiting. Not long after Nymeria had vacated, Lady Mormont appeared, her men following behind her. Norrey, Liddle and Wull, of her own men, joined them also - Knott remained absent, as the task of training Lommy with the sword fell to him this evening. When the table was set with the food, Arya gave Lommy leave to go.

"We are more than capable of serving ourselves," Arya assured the lad. "No you go make sure you are more than capable with a sword - you'll be needing that skill soon enough."

Arya waited for Lommy to depart, before addressing her guest of honour, "Lady Mormont, I offer you my apologies for the outburst you witnessed earlier-"

"Not at all, Princess," Maege smiled. "It rather confirmed to us, that you are who you say you are. Having never met you before, I had only your brother's representation of you to go off. You certainly look like a Stark - you are very much your father's daughter."

"Thank you," Arya smiled. "I hope I will turn out like him in more than just looks."

"Time will tell," Maege smiled back. "Robb said you had a passionate personality - that as a girl in Winterfell, you never failed to make your opinions known."

Arya laughed, "That's one way of phrasing it, to be sure."

They spent a rather enjoyable meal, swapping stories about the Robb Stark they all knew - Arya told tales she had thought long forgotten, of times in Winterfell, and Maege and her men told Arya something of Robb's skills in the battle. Towards the end of the meal, Arya ventured to ask about the girl whom Robb had wed. After receiving a genial, yet commonplace assessment of Jeyne Westerling, Arya was still unsure how the match had come about. But, instead of pressing the matter, she moved onto more key topics.

"You were not with Robb, when he went to the Twins," Arya said, not mentioning the Red Wedding in so many words, but everyone suddenly sobered as if the words had been spoken aloud.

"No," Maege confirmed. "Before his grace set forth for the twins, he sent a good number of us north, on a different route: we sailed up from Seaguard. We were sent as envoys to the Crannogmen."

"And how did that go?" Arya asked, refilling her cup, and passing the jug along to the man at her side.

"Well," Maege assured. "We found the crannogmen - or rather, they found us - and they led us to Greywater Watch. Lord Howland welcomed us, and would have complied with all that King Robb had asked. Only word reached us about the wedding. Since then, we've stayed where we were. Howland was generous enough to extend his hospitality, if we helped defend his lands. Howland Reed's health is failing, but he recovered some when the rumours of your return reached Greywater. He bids me tell you, that he shall give you the support that he would have pledged your brother."

"How many men?" Arya asked.

"Roughly a dozen score," Maege admitted. "Not many, but every little helps. And you can be assured of all their swords."

"Thank you. What do you know of the Iron men's movements in the North?" Arya asked then, getting to the main topic she wanted to discuss. It was one of the men who answered.

"They're getting fewer, that's for sure. But they still have a good hold."

"How so?" Arya pressed.

"They have a small number of men holding Moat Cailin and Thorren's Square. But the rest have made their way back to Pyke - why we don't know."

"The last of their ships left the mainland a few days before we started south," another joined in. "There has been no reason for a retreat-"

"So they are planning something," Arya finished his sentence. "And what of Deepwood Motte?"

"Forever changing hands, but never to the Iron men; always one North Lord or another," Maege said. "This is why the other two are so lightly manned: they don't see much threat coming their way. The Northmen are busy fighting alongside the Night's watch, or amongst themselves - there is no man to spare, to take back the other holdfasts. The Bolton bastard still rules Winterfell in your name, despite your impostor's disappearance, and only fights those who try to take him down: He doesn't stir from behind the walls."

Arya sat thoughtful and quiet, as the rest of her men continued to discuss the movements of the Iron-men. As she listened, her mind was racing; thinking of the purpose behind the seemingly pointless retreat, as well as what her first move was to be. The party broke up not long after that, Maege and her men returning to where they were to be spending the night, and Arya's men back to their sleeping tent.

Arya remained sat up into the night; once the table had been cleared of the remains of supper, she covered it with maps, and poured over them in silence for an hour or so, before finally retiring for the night.

When morning came, Arya left her tent to break her fast with her men, as she was accustomed to do. When she approached the cook fire, she was distracted by the conversation she overheard between Lothor Knott and another.

"-bloody well told you so, didn't I?" Knott was saying. "Told you that blacksmith had his look."

"So you reckon they're certain? He is King Robert's bastard?"

"I'd swear my life on it - I was there when it came out, and that Harwin bloke confirmed it."

"Swear you life on what?" Arya interrupted, coming upon them.

The men jumped up at her voice, "Beg pardon, princess," Knott said. "We didn't see you there."

"That's quite all right. What did Harwin confirm?"

"About that blacksmith-"

"Sir Gendry?" Arya supplied, a hint of ice in her tone, warning her men to show respect.

"Aye, sir Gendry," Knott repeated, sounding more respectful. "Is it true he's a Baratheon bastard? One of Roberts?"

As soon as Knott had said it, Arya realised it was true - how could she have not seen it before? Going over everything she knew, she realised it was actually quite an obvious surmise. But she didn't let this realisation show. "Does it matter?" she asked her men, before changing the subject directly. "Knott, gather the usual, we have a meeting in a half hour."

"Yes, Princess."

Arya turned back to her tent with the thought of breakfast forgotten, seeking out Lommy on the way to task him with gathering her maps still out on the table, and taking them up to Lady Stoneheart's solar, where the meeting would be held. In her tent she strapped needle to her waist and picked up her crown - if ever she needed to look the part of authority it was today. When that was accomplished, Arya turned to exit the tent, but before she reached the flap her raven gave a disgruntled squawk and flew to her shoulder. Arya frowned at the bird, "Don't want to feel left out?"

The bird squawked again, and this time spoke: "Winter," it cawed, and then a moment later, "coming."

Arya stopped short, "who taught you that?" She asked, amazed. Of course she received no answer, and so she continued on her way, the raven staying put on her shoulder the whole time. Arya made her way through the gates of the town, with the intent of finding Gendry. She could tell, yesterday, that something was playing on his mind, but she had been completely distracted with her brother's letter, and so she had not questioned him about it.

She found him in the forge, hammering away at the steel with as much ferocity as Arya had felt yesterday. The raven took flight when she reached the doorway - whether it was too noisy, or too hot, she didn't know. Either way, the bird preferred to sit at the window. She watched Gendry work, taking in his form, and noticing that he wielded the hammer so naturally, it was as if it was an extension if himself - another likeness I should have picked up on, she mused.

"Gendry," Arya spoke after a moment, alerting him to her presence. Gendry turned to look at her and it was obvious he was still distracted.

"Council in ten minutes," Arya reminded him.

"Right." He put down his tools and removed his apron, hanging it on a peg.

"You seem distracted," Arya commented.

"I'm fine."

Arya didn't believe that for a second, and so she decided to be blunt - time was a luxury they really didn't have right now. "I'd be distracted too, if I'd just found out my father was a King."

Gendry looked up, suspicion clear in his eyes, "Did you know?"

Arya shook her head, "If I had known, I would have told you. I swear it. But, looking back, I should have really figured it out – it is quite obvious."

"Is it?" Gendry asked, sounding both incredulous and irate.

"Yes," Arya confirmed, explaining herself fully. "You look like him a little bit – well, I see your resemblance to Renly Baratheon, and my father used to say that Renly was the image of Robert when he was young. Except Robert was broader in the shoulder, and a bigger build – like you, I would imagine. You have the same hair, the same eyes. And then there were the Gold Cloaks: the reason they wanted your head is painfully obvious now."

"Not really," Gendry countered. "I'm just a bastard – I might be a King's bastard, but I'm still just a bastard."

"No," Arya opposed him forcefully, Gendry's bull headed stubbornness beginning to irritate her. "You're more than 'just a bastard', you're King Robert's bastard. You are clearly a Baratheon, and not only that, you are probably his eldest male son."

"So?"

"Tommen, who sits the throne now, and Joffrey, who sat on it before him, don't have a single drop of Baratheon blood," Arya explained patiently, repeating the takes she gad heard over the years, and voicing for the first time her own beliefs. "I believe my father discovered this, somehow. And I think it's why he was arrested. They are Lannisters, through and through. Which makes you, King Robert's eldest son – so you have a better claim to the Iron Throne, than the boy currently sitting on it. That's why there was a bounty on your head, why you were suddenly shipped off to the Nights Watch: it wasn't that your master got sick if you, he was trying to protect you. This could potentially be a slightly awkward situation."

"Are you saying I should stake my claim?" Gendry asked, looking uncertain.

Arya shrugged, "That's up to you – do you want to be King of the Seven Kingdoms? Because if you did, I'm sure the Brotherhood is only a handful of the men who would back your claim."

"Seven Hells, no!" Gendry said fiercely, without a second's thought. "I know nothing about ruling a Kingdom. And besides, the Brotherhood follow you, not me."

"Are you sure?" Arya pressed. "You know who you are now-"

"I'm still the same as I was three days ago: a bastard knight and a blacksmith, who's tolerable with a blade and even better with a hammer," Gendry assured her. "I may be the bastard of a King, but it doesn't mean I have the makings of a King. And besides – haven't you declared your support for Aegon?"

"I have," Arya nodded. "Which is the awkward situation I referred to: After Aegon has graciously provided me with men and supplies, it would have been rather rude of me to turn my cloak and support another."

Gendry looked surprised at her words, "You'd transfer your allegiance to me?"

"Of course," Arya said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know Aegon, but I know you. You're my oldest friend – you were part of my pack – you followed me when I asked; it would only be right for me to follow you. Does that change your mind? Are you re-considering your hasty dismissal of your claim to the throne?"

Gendry shook his head, "No. I still don't want to be King."

"In that case, we have plans to make," Arya declared, turning to leave. "I will see you in five minutes."

She made her way to Lady Stoneheart's solar, where everyone she had asked for was gathered around the table. She had her four leading men who had followed her from he south, as well as Harwin, Lady Stoneheart, Ned Dayne and Anguy. Lady Mormont and her men were also there, as was the two commanding men - Shore and Manton - that Aegon had sent with her.

"Lommy," Arya called as she approached the table, "Serve us some light ale – we might be here awhile, and we will need to be refreshed."

As Lommy began pouring cups and handing them around, the room quieted but Arya refused to speak until all were present. Barely two minutes passed before the door opened and Gendry entered, no trace of their previous conversation marking his features. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to Arya and a quiet apology for keeping her waiting, before taking a seat next to Harwin.

"Now we're all assembled," Arya finally spoke. "We can begin." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother's mouth twitch into a sad smile for the briefest second and she knew she had just emulated her father again, for only that could have caused such a reaction.

She turned to the maps in front of her and the others gathered around closer. "We're currently in the heart of the Lion'sden: The Lannisters at the rock will be trying to cross to King's Landing as we speak - Lem and Brune have already taken men out to stop them. We've been stationary too long - we need to march. The question is, where?"

"North, surely," Harwin said slowly. "Isn't that the whole reason for your return? To take back the north?"

Arya nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off the map. "From what I understand, the ironmen still claim to hold the north, but they are ruling from Pyke."

"That's so," Ned joined in, and he began relaying the information he had previously said to Arya upon his return. Throughout his entire speech he never once looked Arya in the eye, even though Arya's gaze never wandered from him. Arya had moved on from yesterday's misunderstanding, but Ned appeared to have not. When he ceased speaking, Arya added the information she had previously learnt from Maege and her men, the evening before, with the odd input from her and her men.

"And in King's Landing-" Arya continued, "- the Lannisters are preparing to fight Prince Aegon, neither of whom care much for the North at the moment, as the North will give allegiance to neither. Or so the ironmen believe."

Arya stared intently at the map, voicing her thoughts without looking up, "If we go North, we have no choice but to take Moat Cailin. As soon as we do, they will send word to Pyke, and their other holdfasts. They will sail from Pyke up the Saltspear, and we will be taken from behind. You can guarantee the ironmen will have enough supplies to last a siege until their fellows can come to their aid."

We need to do something to stop them sailing, Arya thought, We also need more men. Her mind was working fast, drawing on the half-formed ideas that had been running through her head the previous night. Arya looked up at the two men who had travelled with her from Storms End at Aegon's request.

"When we left Storms End, Prince Aegon was finalising plans to storm King's Landing," she said to them directly. "And when we joined with Harwin, I sent him word of our progress. If I'm right, He and his host will be marching soon." Arya said, and they both nodded.

"It's likely they're marching as we speak," Shore confirmed.

Arya looked back at the map: by her estimation, it was just as far from Stoney Sept to King's Landing as it was from Storms end. But they were a smaller host than Prince Aegon's, they could move quicker, a majority could even travel down the Blackwater Rush, getting there in a matter of days over the ice. Arya chewed her lip thoughtfully, frowning, while the others watched her carefully and quietly.

"What's troubling you?" Gendry said suddenly, speaking for the first time.

"What do you mean?" She looked up at him, masking the surprise she felt at his seeming to read her so well.

Gendry smiled a small smile, "You may have changed a fair bit since you went away, but you've still retained something of the girl I knew. You would always bite your lip when you were thinking hard, or making a difficult decision. Bite any harder, and you're going to draw blood. What's wrong?" He repeated

"Nothing's wrong." She assured them all, while pondering the meaning of Gendry's knowledge of her. At the same time, she mentally kicked herself for letting old habits come back so easy – biting her lip had been the hardest habit to let go, and the easiest one to get back. "How much good steel do we have?" She asked Gendry directly, bringing back her authoritative tone.

"Define good?" He asked her, and she frowned – surely he knew what she meant? "We have enough usable steel to arm each man twice. It's good steel in that it will hold up well enough in a battle. But it's not as fine steel as Needle."

Arya nodded, "That's good. We don't need finesse, we need strength." She looked to the rest. "We move for King's Landing in a matter of days." Arya declared, and she was unsurprised to see the confused looks.

"We need more men to take the North," she said simply. "We help Aegon take the Iron throne, he'll give more men to help my cause. We are fewer than his host, we can make the journey to King's Landing quicker in good time, and meet his host a few miles out. We will separate: One group shall travel east, directly, and meet with Aegon's men who - if my calculations are correct - will be returning right about now, from the Vale. Another shall travel the south side of the Blackwater, meeting Aegon's main host coming up from storms end. And a number of us will go over ice – along the Blackwater – getting there quicker, and getting inside the city walls." She said, a plan taking shape in her mind as she spoke.

"We will create a diversion, that will allow us to open the gates. When the timing is right, Aegon's army will meet little resistance. And when Aegon holds the city, and is declared King on the Iron Throne, we will take our strength North, and reclaim what is ours with ease."

"There is sense, to be sure," Harwin said slowly. "But can you be certain he will increase our number."

Arya looked to Aegon's men, and Manton answered for her: "He will. He offered her three times as many men as she brought north. The smallness of our host backing her was Lady Stark's choice, not ours."

"And the fact that no man of the North has come forward to bend the knee to him is not going to hinder his decision? "Harwin asked, ever cautious.

"The North have shown no love to the Lannisters, that is all that matters right now. Lady Stark brokered and alliance, His Grace accepts that, even with the knowledge that the North seems to like naming Kings of their own."

Arya smiled, "Fear not, Harwin. We have his word. I will write to Prince Aegon before the day is done, and tell him of our plans. You should tell your men what we plan to do, make sure they are ready." She commanded.

As they began to leave, Arya called a few back, "Gendry, Harwin, Lady Stoneheart. Stay a moment. And you, Shore."

When the door was closed behind the departed men, the remaining four looked at her intently, waiting. Aside from Gendry who looked at her shrewdly, a knowing smile lighting his eyes – though only Arya noticed the smile.

"Are we about to hear the real reason we're going to King's Landing?" He asked.

Arya smiled a small smile, "I told the truth before: we are going to fight along side Aegon and help him take his throne. But you're right, there's another reason I want King Aegon in King's Landing, as opposed to Prince Aegon at Storms End." She looked at them all, "We're about to play the Ironmen at their own game. Only we're going to play it better."

A/N: The plot is slowly moving forward.

I'm no longer taking part in the fanfiction comp - it was a team decision, there were a number of reasons, one of which being that we were neglecting our multi-chapter fics. You guys have been amazingly patient waiting for updates, and from now on they will be much more regular.

I already half the next chapter written, so I will post it next week :)

-Bec