A/N: I am FINALLY back with an update. I can not apologise enough for taking so long. But I am definitely back into the writing, I have the next few chapters figured out in my head, I just need to get it down on paper. The next update will not take as long.

I have re-written this chapter so many times, but I'm finally happy to upload it now. Thank you to everyone who has been reading so far, and thank you for all the reviews. And especially thank you to everyone who is still here despite the terribly long delay between these chapters

For those of you that can still remember, I'm still sticking to my challenge of a song lyric in every chapter. Last chapter's lyric was: "I need you, I breath you, I can't go through this all again." From Driven Under, by Seether. This chapter has a lyric from a Molotov Jukebox song. Let me know if you found it :)

xBx

Chapter 16: Arya

She was in a bedchamber – one she hadn't seen for years, one she thought she had forgotten. Clothes were strewn about over a bed – her bed, she supposed – at the foot of which was an open chest. Needle was in her hand, yet it felt larger than usual – or was she just smaller than usual?

"Arya. Open the door. We need to talk."

She knew the voice instantly, though once again it had been years since last she heard it. She turned to the sound with slight trepidation – this couldn't be real, her father was dead.

But he was suddenly there, standing in front of her, "whose sword is that?"

"Mine."

"Give it to me."

Arya slowly became aware that she was dreaming: dreaming of memories she thought she had long forgotten. She knew she couldn't remember every word that had passed between them in this instance, but she remembered enough to know that the dream was true. Just like before, her father seated himself on the window seat, Needle across his lap, the blade looking suddenly smaller in her father's large hands.

"Arya, sit down. I need to try to explain some things to you. You are too young to be burdened with all my cares, but you are also a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words."

"Winter is Coming," Arya whispered.

"The hard cruel times," Lord Eddard said, sounding sad. "You were born in the long summer, sweet one, you've never known anything else, but now the winter is truly coming."

There was more to this memory, she knew there was, but in that moment it all changed. Her bedchamber disappeared, as did her father, and suddenly she found herself outside the great Sept of Baelor, perched on a plinth looking at her father, the way she had last seen him. He looked up at the crowd from where he knelt on the steps, his eyes found Arya's instantly:

"Winter is Coming," he said to her, as Ser Ilyn raised Ice beside him.

Aya's eyes snapped open before her dream showed her father's head toppling down the steps of Baelor's Sept. She didn't immediately recognise her surroundings, but as she blinked away the sleep, the memories of yesterday came back. The room was chill, but Arya could hear and smell a fire crackling in the hearth. She stretched her extremities, trying to relieve some of stiffness that accompanies a long deep sleep; her shoulder throbbed in time with her heartbeat. As she stretched, she frowned: half her body was on a soft, feather bed, but the other half of her body was pressed against something much sturdier. She turned her face to the side and found Gendry sleeping peacefully beside her.

This was the last thing she expected to see upon waking: She remembered climbing exhausted into the bed, and feeling the immediate effects of the Milk of the Poppy – she did not remember Gendry climbing in beside her. She struggled to a sitting position and her movements woke Gendry easily from his slumber: Gendry was always easy to wake, Arya suddenly remembered. He blinked at her in confusion for a moment.

"You're awake," he stated the obvious before their situation fully sank in;Arya had lost all capability of speech in that moment, all she could thing about was that rash moment after the fight when she had kissed him. A second later it dawned on Gendry that they were in bed together. Gendry turned a deep shade of crimson, muttered something about telling others, and practically launched himself from the bed, stumbling and almost falling to the floor in his haste.

Arya manoeuvred herself to the edge of the bed; Nymeria had been quietly watching her from the foot of the bed, and now she came to her side laying down so that Arya might more easily lean on her. Arya was just struggling to her feet, leaning heavily upon Nymeria, when Maester Mathos and Lommy hastily entered.

"Thank the God's," Mathos exclaimed, coming over to give her a hand.

"That I certainly will. How long have I been asleep?" She asked as Mathos lead her to the table by the fire.

"A full day – or as near as makes no matter. We thought you were going to sleep through Aegon's coronation."

"When is that?"

"Sunset."

Arya glanced out of the windows and sighed – sunset looked to be only a couple of hours away and there was so much she wanted to do. "In that case, best send for a bath to be brought up."

"Right away, Princess." Lommy said, quickly turning to the door.

"And Lommy," Arya called him back. "Get a couple of maids to help you, and see if they can find something suitable for me to wear. My best dress is ruined and I doubt breeches will be appropriate."

Lommy nodded and disappeared and Arya turned back to Mathos, who helped her back to her feet.

"I would wish to speak to the men, do you know where they are settled?"

"Your council are awaiting you in the solar; they will be able to tell you everything you need know."

"That makes things a little easier," Arya admitted as she passed through the double doors.

"Your grace," her men muttered when she entered, all went to their feet and bowed.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting – and perhaps you should not call me 'your grace', here in the Red Keep. Aegon knows I don't intend to bend the knee, but we don't have to be so blatant about it. Tell me what I need to know: who is camped where? Who fought whom? What are our injuries, our losses?"

Each took their turn in speaking and Arya was relieved to hear that their loss had been minimal and their injuries minor. A handful of her men, namely those of her council and personal guard, were housed within the Red Keep; the majority of her host were encamped outside the city gates, in the tourney grounds.

She sent her men away, back to the camps, with the intention of making her rounds in the morning. Only Lady Stoneheart, Harwin, Gendry, and Mathos remained – the former waiting to make her departure until the cover of darkness, the latter three were housed in rooms within the quarters. Once the room was relatively empty, Arya finally noticed the bundle laying on the table.

"What's that?" she asked, moving towards it.

"Tommen's sword, the one you requested. It was brought here last night, Mathos answered quietly.

Arya paused momentarily, her hand hovering over the bundle, before tossing back the fabric to reveal the sword and scabbard within. She stared at it for a moment: the handle was gold and shaped with the head of a lion, with two rubies set as the eyes - it screamed Lannister, and it made her stomach churn. Slowly, she unsheathed the blade halfway, and at the sight of the valyrian steel, with rivulets of crimson running through the folds, she was unsure what she felt most: anger, hatred and anguish broiled within her. Before she let her feelings show to the others, she slammed the hilt back into the scabbard and covered it back over.

"Someone take this, put it with my things for safe keeping; out of my sight until I find the other and decide what to do with them."

Lommy had yet to return, and so Arya decided to take this opportunity to visit the Godswood. There were the usual protestations about her wandering around the Red Keep without an escort, but Arya shot them all down, insisting she would perfectly safe with Nymeria by her side and Needle at her hip. She left before there could be any more complaints. It took her a while, but eventually she found her bearings in the Red Keep; she was unsure of where about in the Keep she was currently housed, but she knew if she could find the Tower of the Hand, she would remember where everything was supposed to be. It took her a few moments to realises the Tower of the Hand was no longer there, but eventually she made it to the Godswood.

The Godswood was empty, just as she had expected. Arya made her way to the large oak that served as the Heart Tree – there were no weirwoods with faces in this wood, no weirwoods at all. No one came here to worship anymore; everyone in King's Landing worshipped the Seven, and even with Westeros in the grip of winter, the Old Gods held no power here. At least, Arya couldn't feel them – how she longed for the Godswood at Winterfell, the Heart Tree by the little lake.

She knelt in the snow in front of the oak and tried to pray, but felt it was somewhat futile: her Gods weren't here, and all she could think of were the memories that had come back to her before she awoke. Before she could think on them too much, the crunching of snow from behind her alerted her she was no longer alone; it was a man's footsteps and she thought she was pretty sure who they belonged to.

"M'Lady?" Gendry asked, sounding hesitant and proving her suspicions correct. Arya turned to him and smiled.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, when you're talking to the Gods," he began, as he knelt in the snow beside her.

"You're not," Arya sighed. Gendry gave her a confused look and so she elaborated: "You can't talk to something that isn't there: The Old Gods have no power here, they never really have. Sometimes I wonder if even the Seven have any power here."

Arya looked back at the tree; her eyes focused on the oak, but her minds eye recalled the Heart Tree at Winterfell and she sighed once more.

"I can't believe I'm back here," she said suddenly. "All those years, everything that happened, everything I had to do in attempt to make it home, I never even made it past the Neck. And for all that, what good did it do me? I'm right back where I started."

Arya moved to stand, and Gendry immediately jumped to his feet and offered his hand which Arya instantly took. Her injuries were still raw, and despite her long sleep she was still feeling tired and weak.

"I'm guessing you were sent to summon me? Has Lommy returned?" Arya asked as they began to walk back, Gendry keeping step.

"Yes, and sunset is near." He paused for a moment; Arya glanced over at him and could see he was distracted, thinking of something.

"You're not back where you started," he said suddenly. "Last time we left Kings Landing you were running; this time you'll be marching. Last time you were disguised as a boy, you were on your own at the very beginning. You're not hiding any more, you have an army, and you have…. This time it's different. This time you will make it home."

Arya wasn't sure what to say to that: He spoke the truth, there were no lies in what he said. But Arya was more curious about what he hadn't said; what else did she have? And why couldn't he finish that sentence? She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She didn't dare turn her face to him; she was still weary, her dreams still played on her, and try as she might she couldn't stop the memory of their kiss popping up in her mind. She knew her expression would show something of what she was feeling.

He was looking determinedly ahead, as they made their way across the courtyard to their rooms. There was something else playing on his mind.

"There's one other thing," Gendry said after a moment, once more sounding hesitant. Arya waited silently for him to continue.

"The sword that Tommen brought you, it's one of a pair?"

"Yes, made from my father's greatsword-"

"Ice," Gendry nodded, remembering the conversation Arya had had with Cersei. "I think I know where the other may be."

Arya stopped walking and finally turned to face him: "How? Where? Who has it?"

"Jaime Lannister said he gave his sword – an exact replica of Tommen's – to Brienne of Tarth,"

"Yes," Arya said impatiently. "I remember the conversation in the Throne Room: she was hanged by Lady Stoneheart," She paused, and looked questioningly at Gendry. The brotherhood never let anything go to waste – especially good steel. "Lady Stoneheart?"

Gendry shook his head, "no. Her weapon of choice is a rope. But those who hanged her took her steel, though they didn't know of the Swords history – they knew it was Valyrian steel but it was obviously Lannister's. I saw it once, and I remember the distinctive blade – the rivulets of red running through the steel, I'd never seen anything like it. Until today."

"Who kept it?" Arya asked again – she had fought alongside a few of the Brotherhood a few times now, but she had never seen a sword like that of Tommen's.

Gendry scowled, for reasons Arya couldn't imagine. "It was Valyrian steel – extremely rare, and only ever owned by old families with titles: It's a sword fit for a Lord," he said pointedly.

"Ned Dayne," Arya finished and Gendry nodded. "I need that sword."

"I can find him, if you like? While you change, the coronation will be starting soon."

"No, it will wait until after – you need to change too," Arya countered, starting up the stairs to her rooms. Gendry started to protest, but Arya cut him off: "You are part of my council and part of my guard, you will accompany me to the Sept, along with Harwin and the others."

When Arya returned to her bedchamber a tub of hot water was waiting for her in front of the fire; the doors and windows were now all closed and the chill that had lingered earlier had been warmed by the fire blazing in the hearth. On her bed were an assortment of gowns that Lommy and the maids had managed to scavenge from various ladies within the keep. A couple were generously offered by lady Margaery.

"Where's the rest of it?" Arya asked bluntly, when showed one of the ensembles. The maids glanced at each other, clearly confused. "It's winter, how did she wear this and not freeze?"

"Queen - I mean Lady Margery wears this on milder days, a lot of her gowns are of this fashion," one of the maids explained timidly.

"I think I'd prefer something warmer, and plainer," Arya stated. "And one that doesn't make me look like an expensive whore," she muttered quietly to herself as she began to undress and step into the tub. The maids continued to show her the remaining gowns, and when Arya finally decided on one of Margaery's more demure gowns they made some hasty adjustments that it might fit her better, while Maester Mathos attended to her dressings.

As Mathos worked on her he told her what had transpired while she was unconscious; how she spent much of the night running a dangerously high fever and how keeping her hydrated and her temperature down was almost impossible.

"I won't hide from you that we were extremely worried: You are not invincible, Your Grace, however tough you may be."

"I'm sorry I had you so worried. Thank you for taking care of me."

"I would thank Gendry, too. He never left your side you know; he certainly went above and beyond his duty," Mathos said carefully. There was more to his meaning than Mathos was willing to voice. Arya avoided his gaze while he tended to her shoulder, not knowing what her eyes might betray.

"Oh?" was all she said. Then, before Mathos could continue, she added: "I've known Gendry a long time. We escaped King's Landing together…he was, and still is, a very good friend. He was the first to know who I really was. And he has kept my secret ever since."

Arya wasn't sure who she was really trying to convince: Mathos or herself. Mathos' tone had suggested something more than simple friendship was at play, and he was already aware of her history with Gendry. But she and Gendry were friends – despite the distance that had come about after years apart, he was the only one who knew about her gift, her link with Nymeria. They were just friends. But Mathos was hinting at something more.

Before she could dwell on these somewhat unnerving thoughts, the maid returned to hurry her from the tub; sunset was fast approaching and she needed to be dressed and her hair fixed before she could leave the keep.

The maids dressed her in silence (the hasty adjustments they had made to the chosen gown were surprisingly good, and the fit was not at all bad, though not perfect. Arya was impressed and made a note to mention her appreciation). They were just making finishing touches to her hair when the bells began to toll.

"Leave it," Arya waved them off, moving to the bed to retrieve Needle and fasted it around her waist. Mathos handed her the small circlet of bronze and steel, she was uncertain if it was a good idea. Mathos gave her a small nod, and she made the impulsive decision to don the crown, knowing as soon as the metal touched her head it was the right thing to do. A maid handed her a thick winter cloak, and she hastily departed.

Arya descended from the Keep to the Sept on horse, accompanied by Harwin and Gendry at her sides, and the rest of council (except for Lady Stoneheart) followed behind, with a suitable guard surrounding them. They left their horses at the edge of the square; the common folk had crowded into the plaza, and Arya couldn't help but remember the last time she had been here. As they made their way through the crowd, Arya ignored the impulse to look over at the statue of Baelor the Blessed; instead she kept her eyes straight, her face expressionless and strode purposefully toward the sept. As he ascended the steps, however, her pace faltered and she unwillingly slowed.

For a few moments the rest of the world faded away, time seemed to slow, and Arya's gaze wondered to her right. She stopped at the top of the steps, and moved two paces to her right. She turned slowly, vaguely aware of Gendry and Harwin's distant voices calling out to her in confusion. She raised her head and her eyes rested upon the Statue of Baelor, direct in her eye line: This was the last place her father had been, she knew it the instant she stepped into it. A sudden wave of emotions threatened to overtake her; Arya closed her eyes for a second, and was instantly in Nymeria's skin. She let out a long, agonising howl, before returning to her own skin at the feel of someone's hand on her elbow. Nymeria's howl had set off the rest of her pack, and they kept up a relentless chorus in the distance, causing confusion among the common folk.

She knew without looking it was Gendry by her side. She took a deep breath and suddenly the sense of acceptance and determination hit her with a force like never before. She wasn't that little girl anymore, who could do nothing but watch helplessly. She was a woman grown: Arya, of House Stark, the first of her name. Lady of Winterfell and Princess in the North. She had a Direwolf by her side and an army at her back. And in that moment it was suddenly clear and accepted that her next move was to march for Greywater Watch to pick up the crown and army her brother had left her.

"Arya?" Gendry still had his hand on her elbow, and in that moment she had an epiphany about him too: Human nature has this way of running away, when it should stay, but Gendry had been by her side, and never strayed since the day she fled King's Landing. Even when she thought he had, he actually hadn't. She had been the one to leave him; she was the one who had run away. And as soon as she returned, he came back to her; he would never leave her again and she knew it – he was part of her pack. She also realised then, that was exactly what she wanted - she wanted him to stay by her side.

"Are you alright?"

Arya looked up at him and smiled. "Yes," she told him, in complete and open honesty. Something must have been showing in her eyes, because Gendry gave her a quizzical look, but didn't ask as she moved back towards the doors of the Sept.

She walked slightly taller than she had before, her head a little higher, her stride a little more purposeful. Arya had ascended the steps still a reluctant Princess of the North; she entered the sept a determined Queen.

A/N: Hopefully that was worth the wait. I promise the next wait won't be as long. Next chapter will be back to Aegon's perspective. Let me know if you found the hidden lyric, and the Molotov Jukebox track that it's from :)

Thanks again, so much, for reading and sticking with me - you guys are the best!

xBx