A/N: Sorry for the delay with this one, but it is a fair bit longer than the last chapter. 18 chapters in and I'm still stubbornly sticking to my song lyric challenge. If anyone is keeping track, last chapters lyric was "nobody said it was easy, no one said it would be this hard" from The Scientist, by Coldplay. This chapter has a lyric by The Verve hidden in there.

Enjoy :)

xBx

Chapter 18: Arya

Arya and her men had stayed just over a week in King's Landing: Aegon had taken Arya's hint at the coronation dinner and had met her in the Godswood the following evening. He had taken some convincing, but eventually he agreed to assist with her plan for taking care of the Ironmen. Arya had left Harwin in charge of securing the cache of Wildfire and discreetly transporting it from the city, with the aid of a pyromancer. Harwin, Lady Stoneheart, and their teams, left King's Landing on the day of Aegon's wedding: Arya had switched up her guard every day she was in the city so that every night there was someone different dining with her. That, coupled with the distractions of a wedding, meant that those who left early were not easily missed. Arya made sure the rest of her men were ready to move the morning following the wedding, to cover the absence of the others; because of their number, they would be travelling slower than the others, so even though they would be taking the more direct route towards Greywater, along the King's Road, they should not be trespassing upon Lord Reed's hospitality for too long before the two groups met again.

King Aegon, in his thanks for her help in taking the capital, had supplied Arya with fresh provisions of food, armour, and weapons to supplement her current supplies. He also offered to boost her numbers, but Arya refused to take any men with her who were ordered to follow. In the end she accepted the company of three score of Aegon's men, all of whom volunteered to follow her; some were those who had already fought alongside Arya, her men, and the brotherhood, others had come to know her men while they remained in the city.

The going was hard, and progress was slow over the snow, but they persevered and morale continued to stay high. They spent every night on the road until they came to the inn at the crossroads, which they reached by midday about a month into their journey. While only a few of them would be able to find room to board underneath the roof, the idea of having hot bathing facilities, and somewhat fresher food and drink was enough to lift the spirits of all the men.

As Arya and her men came up to the inn front, the commotion naturally drew the attention of those inside, whose young faces could now be seen peering through the windows and some stood curiously in the doorway. A young woman, close to Arya in age, with a slight build and long dark hair, was the only one to venture out to investigate. When she saw Gendry dismount from his horse, down next to Arya, her face split into a wide smile.

"Gendry!" She called out in greeting and ran to him, hugging him without ceremony.

"Friend of yours?" Arya asked with a smile.

"This is Willow. She helps her sister run the inn."

"Thanks for bringing my brother back," Willow grinned.

"Brother?" Arya politely enquired, the little surge of jealousy that had flared unexpectedly now settled.

"Not my actual brother, obviously," Willow – who was clearly very exuberant and talkative – explained happily. "But Gendry has always looked out for us, he's like the brother I never had. You're not wearing a dress and you still look quite feminine," Willow suddenly stated.

"Willow," Gendry tried to warn silently. Arya was wearing a thick travelling cloak against the cold, with the hood drawn up over her hair. While her face was clearly visible, her crown - which she had been wearing constantly since Aegon's coronation - was covered. Willow had no idea she was talking to a northern Princess.

"Jeyne has a fit every time I even suggest wearing boy's clothes," Willow continued, ignoring Gendry.

Arya chuckled, liking the girl's spirit. "My mother used to hate when I dressed in boy's clothes when I was young, although she was never happy when I wore a dress either, because I ruined it by the end of the day. My father didn't mind so much though."

"Well maybe your father could speak to my sister," Willow joked.

"My father died, some years ago."

Willows smile dropped, and her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry." There was a brief pause, and Willow searched for a change of topic before the silence became awkward. "So, it's been a long time since I saw those banners, not since Stark went south with the King, and I was just a small girl. I don't even know your name," Willow realised suddenly. "Gendry hasn't introduced us."

"Willow, this is Arya," Gendry introduced while Arya tried not to laugh. "Princess Arya, of House Stark."

Willows eyes widened once more, "Oh, seven hells! I had no idea, I'm so sorry, I should not have spoken to you like that. I apologise your Grace – I haven't even curtsied."

"It's fine," Arya assured as Willow gave a rushed curtsey. "But we've had a long ride, perhaps you can show us inside."

"Of course," Willow turned to lead them inside, Gendry following a step behind.

Arya turned to Lommy, "Take care of the horses, and then fetch the maps and gather the usual crowd to come inside."

Arya followed the others inside just as Willow was saying: "Look who's back!"

The woman Willow was speaking to had her back to them as Arya entered, she was tall with long brown hair pulled back into a loose braid. She turned at Willow's announcement, and dropped the rag she was holding when she saw Gendry standing before her.

"Gendry!" she uttered in disbelief. She walked hastily toward him, but stopped a few footsteps shy of reaching him. Arya paused in the doorway, watching intently: the look on this woman's face was one of adoration. Whoever she was, it was clear to Arya that she was very much in love with Gendry. But did Gendry return the feelings? Arya stayed back from the tableau, stepping slowly and silently around the edge of the room to see if the woman's expression was mirrored upon Gendry's face.

"You're back?" She breathed, as though she hardly dared to believe the vision in front of her.

Arya could now see Gendry's face: He was looking down at his feet, avoiding the woman's eyes as he shifted uncomfortably, giving nothing away that Arya was able to interpret.

"Yeah," he agreed. "There are a few of us."

Arya looked away, not sure that she should be witnessing this – not even sure what this was. As she was pondering, her eyes noticed the floor at her feet, particularly a spot on the floorboards near her that was darker than the rest. She moved her foot out to trace the stain with her toes, it looked like-

"Blood."

Arya looked up to see the brown haired woman looking at her, and Arya suddenly remembered the last time she had been in this particular spot.

"The stain has been there for years," she was saying. "You would think after all these years it would fade, but there was a lot of blood; I tried to clean it, but the wood just soaked it right up."

"I'm sorry," Arya apologised, knowing it was her fault.

"What for? That was the Hounds handywork. I remember it well."

"Actually, Clegane was preoccupied somewhere over there," Arya waved vaguely to her right. "Which left me to take care of the man they called the Tickler; I stabbed him once for every question he ever asked."

"The tickler?" Gendry repeated, thinking back.

"The man liked to ask questions, about gold, silver,"

"Gems," Gendry finished. "He asked about Beric Dondarion; the man asked a lot of questions," he remembered.

"You're the girl who was travelling with the Hound? Who the Brotherhood were looking for?" the woman asked, looking between Arya and Gendry with an odd look on her face.

Arya nodded, finally removing her hood and introducing herself: "I am Arya, of House Stark."

The woman gave Gendry a strange look that Arya didn't understand – it almost looked exasperated – before turning back to Arya with a large smile.

"It is an honour to have you here, my Lady. You and your men are more than welcome. I am Jeyne Heddle, this is my sister Willow, and we run the inn."

Within half an hour of arrival, Arya and the main leaders amongst her men had taken over most of the tavern space, gathered around a number of tables that had been pushed together and covered with maps.

Willow had taken the orphans to the rooms at the back at Jeyne's command; Jeyne had served them with Ale, and would have stayed to continue to serve until Gendry had a quiet word with her and she left, but not before looking quickly between Arya and Gendry with that odd look once more.

"We need to pick up our pace," Arya was saying, standing at the head of the table looking down on the maps.

"We're moving as fast as we can," Liddle said. "Admittedly, it can't be long now before the Ironmen become aware of our march upon them. But they will have to summon an army back from Pyke, and when they reach land, they will be hindered by the snow just as much as we are – we'll still be ahead of them."

"It is not that which I was thinking of," Arya said seriously, sitting down and glancing to the window. "We've been here two – maybe three – hours, and dusk is already upon us: The days are getting shorter, and the further north we get, the longer the nights will become. We don't need to worry while we're south of the Neck, but once we cross into the North we need to change our habits. We've all heard the stories, we know what's out there: the North remembers. It will soon be safer to make camp and sleep during what little daylight there will be; once in the north we'll be travelling through the night, surrounded by torches, enclosed in the light."

"Travelling at night is risky; if something is coming at us in the dark, we'll never see them, especially with the torches – they'll light the ground close, but make the shadows even darker."

"It's not someone we have to worry about in the North – the Ironmen will never travel at night, they will barricade themselves in their stolen holdfasts. And the light from the torches will be the only thing that will save us from what lurks in the darkness of winter. Being on the move gives us a tiny advantage at best, but it's an advantage none the less; daylight will be the only respite we will have to let our guard down and sleep. We have an added advantage with Nymeria and her wolves: they will follow us, surround us, and they will sniff out any threat long before we see it, and they will warn us."

"What's the threat?" asked one of the men warily; most of the men gathered here were Northmen, and while they may not necessarily believe the stories, they at least all knew them.

"When the long night comes, the cold winds will rise and -" someone started.

"The dead rise with them," Arya finished. "The stories are coming alive; anyone who's met a man of the Night's Watch will have heard their stories. The further north we go, the closer we get to these things. Like I said, we won't need to worry about any of that while we remain south. But the fact remains, it would be better to reach Greywater Watch while the days still hold at least four or five hours of daylight.

"So," Arya declared, returning to her brisk voice of command and getting back to her feet and consulting the maps once more. "From here, we're continuing on up-river. The Blackwater is frozen – not quite all the way through – but solid enough to travel along. The Green Fork is smaller, further north, and winter is truly setting in: it will hold our traffic just as well. That should speed us up nicely, however, once we hit marsh land we're going to go back off river to circle around The Twins – We're not going near that place. At least, we'll not be in easy sight of it," She added thoughtfully, the formations of a plan starting to take shape. But this was not the time to indulge. "Once we're clear of the Twins, we re-join the river and it will lead us straight up to Greywater."

They finished up quick enough after that, packing away the maps and returning the tables to their original place. The evening was a jovial one, considering the cold and gloom of the long winter nights that had set in. Numerous camp fires burned bright around the yard, and the inn itself was a constant buzz of activity. Jeyne hardly spoke two words to anyone as she was constantly moving around, dividing her attention between the children and her guests, making sure nobody was wanting for anything.

Gendry had disappeared early into the evening, no doubt to the forge; Arya had been making the usual rounds of her men, and was spending some time getting acquainted with willow when an ear-piercing scream rent through the air.

Silence fell around them and Arya wasted no time in moving outside to the source of the scream, drawing Needle as she went. Jeyne, who looked to have been taking a tray of something out to Gendry judging by the clutter in the snow around her feet, was stood looking deathly pale and in shock. Gendry was in the doorway to the forge, hand outstretched toward Jeyne in a warning to stay still, calling out for her to relax, and not panic. In between the two stood Nymeria, growling faintly.

Arya relaxed instantly, firmly placing Needle back in its scabbard, and placed her hands on her hip.

"Don't worry, she won't harm you," Arya assured Jeyne. "Will you, Nymeria?" she added sternly, walking over to the wolf.

Nymeria sat back, but continued to growl quietly.

"This is Nymeria," Arya explained to Jeyne. "She's a direwolf, my direwolf. She is very protective of me, and my men. She won't hurt you – don't interrupt me!" She said sharply to Nymeria as she growled a little louder, over the top of Arya. Nymeria turned her head away from Arya in sulk, but stopped growling. Arya turned back to Jeyne, and saw Gendry stifling a laugh out of the corner of his eye.

"Nymeria will only harm those who wish me ill," she reassured her. By now, most had gone back to whatever they had been doing, only Arya, Gendry, and Jeyne were still gathered around Nymeria. Jeyne still looked terrified, and Gendry shifted uncomfortably as though torn between staying and going. Arya gave her attention to Nymeria, placing both hands behind the wolf's ears she spoke quietly to her; their bond was now so strong, that at this proximity Arya could experience Nymeria's thoughts and feelings simultaneously with her own.

"Go hunt, I know you're hungry," Arya told her. "We're safe here; go feed your pack. I can take care of myself for a day."

Nymeria hesitated a fraction of a second and then bounded off out into the woodland, but not before giving Jeyne one last little growl.

"I apologise, Nymeria can be frightening for those who have never seen her before," Arya addressed Jeyne once more. "Especially for those of the South, who didn't grow up hearing stories of such things that live beyond the Wall. Gendry, you told me once of a Godswood that was here? I'd like to go there, if you would show me."

Gendry, ever the man of few words, merely nodded; he threw down the rag he had been holding and turned to lead the way out behind the inn, without meeting Jeyne's eyes.

They walked through trees in silence, until Gendry slowed as they came upon a small clearing and stopped in front of an oak, larger than the other trees around it.

"This it?" Arya asked.

Gendry smiled, "yeah. Don't worry, Maestor Mathos and Harwin have told me this isn't what a proper Godswood looks like. But I've never seen one, so I wouldn't know what to compare it to."

"You'll see one soon enough; Winterfell has quite a magnificent one, if the Bolton bastard hasn't razed it to the ground. The weirwoods make up the goodswood that is nestled in the forest amongst the sentinels; the weirwoods are tall, majestic, their bark is white, almost the colour of the snow but not quite the same. The leaves are this brilliant vibrant red – not crimson, like the Lannister colours, but deeper, like blood or wine. The sap is the same colour; when you carve into it, the sap will fill the carvings, sometimes running down from it, before drying. The red stands out vividly against the white, it's beautiful.

"At the centre of the Weirwoods is where you'll find the biggest one, the oldest one, with a face carved into it – that's the Heart Tree, the one you go to when you talk to the old Gods. It's said that the Gods dwell beyond the wall, but use the faces in the trees to see everywhere; when you talk to the faces, the gods can see you, hear you, and sometimes even speak to you.

"Sansa always hated the Godswood, the face on the tree scared her I think," Arya reminisced. "So she worshipped the Seven, like mother, their aesthetic beauty pleased her more, I would imagine. But I preferred the Godswood: it's more natural. There was never a sept in Winterfell until my mother came North, it was built for her. That never made sense to me, worshipping something that was built by man rather than worshipping something that is already there, created by nature."

"I was never much one for worship anyway," Gendry said. "I've only ever set foot in Baelor's Sept once, and that was at Aegon's coronation. It seemed more like a shrine to money, than Gods; a stone statue is never going to hear you, though I prayed to the Smith a few times years ago. Didn't get a response."

Arya chuckled, "I don't think many people do to be honest. The Gods don't tend to talk much."

"Then why do we continue to pray to them?"

"Because sometimes they answer; not with words, but in the way you really need them to."

Gendry nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Some Gods do," he admitted.

"The old Gods do," Arya amended.

"The Old gods," Gendry nodded. "They spoke to you?"

"They sent me Nymeria. Direwolves hadn't been seen south of the Wall for so long, people were starting to believe them to be a myth, only alive in the stories. Then suddenly there were six pups – one direwolf pup for each Stark child, even Jon. Jon is a Snow by name, but certainly a Stark - he and I were the only ones to inherit our father's look. The day Sansa chose Joffrey over us, her direwolf was taken away – the direwolves were for the Starks; some will say it's a coincidence, but I know now it was the work of the Old Gods. What about you?' Arya asked, shaking off her recollections before emotions could consume her. "What did the Old Gods send to you, to keep you praying to them?"

"They brought me you," he said simply.

Arya didn't know what to say, but the silence seemed so natural that perhaps nothing needed to be said. Gendry and Arya had been growing unintentionally closer on the march from King's Landing: they travelled side-by-side, whether they were riding or walking. They ate together, drank together, talked together, he was by her side more often than any of the others. Mostly they talked of trivial things, but lately Arya had started talking about Jon and Winterfell more often. She had mentioned her father a couple of times now, and Gendry had told her of the one time he had actually met Lord Stark, back in King's Landing.

"The further North I travel, the harder it becomes to not remember," Arya admitted after a moment.

"Is remembering such a bad thing?"

"I don't know," Arya said truthfully, causing Gendry to frown. Arya may be slowly opening up to him, and talking more of her memories, but there was one thing she was still stubbornly silent on: Gendry still knew nothing of those four years she spent across the Narrow Sea.

"But I didn't come here to remember," Arya said, getting back to business. "I came here to keep track of the others."

"I thought as much," Gendry smiled, sitting down in the snow. "You never allow yourself to be distracted."

"I try not to allow it," Arya conceded, taking her place next to Gendry. "But it happens."

Arya had been trying to keep track of Harwin and Lady Stoneheart's movements daily, through her raven, which she had sent with them. As their distance increased, Arya had found it easier to first slip into Nymeria, hunting with her for a little before reaching out from animal to animal. This evening was no different: She focused her mind, and found herself almost instantly with Nymeria, leading her pack, trying to sniff out anything they could eat. Arya was uneasy for her, more particularly her pack; food was already scarce, and it would be worse once they crossed the neck – the pack would suffer, not all of them would make it to Winterfell. Arya also knew, realistically, that the same could be said for her army.

It took Arya some time, but she finally found her way into her raven: The group had stopped for the night, somewhere along at the side of the Blue Fork, over which they had been travelling a few days. A fire was crackling and an animal was roasting on a spit – it wasn't big, nor particularly meaty, but it would have been better than nothing. She was perched next to Anguy this evening, being fed crumbs of hard bread. The raven was reluctant to move away from the free feed, but Arya persuaded it to take flight and soar high, circling above, giving Arya a good look at the ground.

Arya only briefly stayed with the raven, circling high enough to see a good way into the distance, and long enough to grasp a good idea of their surroundings. When she pulled herself back into her own skin she was laying in the snow with her head in Gendry's lap. She sat up slowly, adjusting to being back on solid ground in her own body.

"I didn't want your head laying in the snow," Gendry explained. "So I moved you, when you went down – I didn't think you'd like frostbite to your face."

Arya gave a small chuckle, and Gendry looked at her closely. "Are you alright?" He asked with a frown.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"You were away longer than usual."

"It's getting harder to reach out," Arya explained. "Which is to be expected, since we're getting further apart; they've made good progress along the river. I didn't really recognise the area, but I flew above the trees: I could see a town in the distance, Fairmarket maybe?" Arya guessed, remembering the maps. "They seem to still be on the route we discussed. They should be coming upon Seaguard in a day or so."

"They're keeping to schedule?"

"I think so, as much as they can. We should probably head back, before too many people miss us," Arya suggested.

Gendry sprang to his feet, holding out his hand to help Arya up. Arya took it without hesitation, even though she could return to her feet with ease. They maintained their clasp perhaps a little longer than necessary, and Gendry's thumb brushed gently over her knuckles, as if by simple instinct, before he let her hand drop. They returned to the inn in silence.

The next day was a welcome respite: the men slept a few hours more than they usually would, and the sentries who had been on duty that night slept through most of the limited daylight hours. Many of the men enjoyed the luxury of bath, a privilege which Arya had already indulged the night before.

Arya spent most of the day outside, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to get involved in Lommy's sword lessons that had been continuing on the march. Their sparring drew quite the crowd, of which the orphans all were a part of. After watching Arya fight, Willow decided she also wanted to learn, and refused to listen to Jeyne's rejections of such a ridiculous notion, and became adamant that whenever anyone in the Brotherhood stopped by, she would get a lesson from them. Arya spent the evening once more inside the inn, enjoying the happy environment, again surrounded by Willow and the children, who seemed to find her more approachable than the men – the only men they had willingly approached were those of the Brotherhood they knew, Gendry, and Maester Mathos.

Arya hadn't seen Gendry much since last night, and Mathos had also been out of her sights for most of the day. Willow was telling Arya about one of the younger children's injuries, a cut that seemed to refuse to heal.

"I have no idea what to do with it," Willow sighed. "Even Jeyne doesn't."

"I'll get my Maester to look at it, if you like?" Arya suggested. "I'll go find him now, and send him in to you."

Finding Mathos didn't take long, though longer than she expected. She eventually met him coming towards the camp fire closest to the inn, just as she was about to return inside. "I've been looking for you," she smiled.

"Forgive me, your grace, I was in the forge with sir Gendry. Is everything well?"

"With me, yes." Arya then told him everything Willow had told her, and the two bent their steps back toward the inn.

"I'll follow you, in a moment," Arya said as they came close to the forge. She let Mathos move inside without her and veered towards the forge's door. She had seen very little of Gendry all the time they had been here, he had spent most of it holed up in his old forge. Arya wondered if it had anything to do with Jeyne. She hadn't brought it up with him last night, she didn't know how to, or what to say, or even whether she should.

From her observations, Arya was quite certain that Jeyne loved Gendry. But Gendry had never talked of her, and so Arya had no idea what kind of relationship they had had in those four years he had lived here.

As Arya approached the forge, the door was open wide allowing her to view inside and see that Gendry wasn't alone. It was quiet; Gendry wasn't hammering anything, but tidying up some scrolls, his back to the door and his guest. Jeyne stood in the middle of the room, her back straight, determined to say whatever it was she was there to say, but she seemed hesitant to close the distance between them.

Arya's habit of moving silently meant that she came close to the door without alerting them to her approach.

"You've been avoiding me," Jeyne was saying to Gendry's back. There was something in her voice that told Arya she shouldn't interrupt this, probably shouldn't hear it either but her curiosity was spiked. Instead of leaving, she shifted silently into the shadows with her back to the wall, invisible to anyone around, but close enough to the doorway to hear every word.

"I haven't," Gendry countered. "I've just been busy."

"Busy. Right." There was a moment of silence, and then Jeyne switched track.

"Arya Stark? The girl you've been looking for all these years, is a bloody Stark of Winterfell? Not some nobody like the rest of us, but born a raised a lady! A Princess, no less, soon to be a queen! What in the seven hells are you about, Gendry? Why did you never say?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell: I promised her, when she told me who she was that I would never tell anyone. Besides, it was dangerous to be a Stark at that time."

"You're very loyal."

"She was my friend, Arya is my friend – the first real friend I ever had. We've been through a lot together, I will always be loyal to her."

"So it would seem. Harwin is noticeably absent."

"He's with Lady Stoneheart."

"The fact remains, they're not here. But you are; you left them for her?"

"No,"

"Then why are they not here, but you are."

"Where they are is none of your business; it's Arya's."

"Arya?" Jeyne questioned, in a tone that questioned the use of her name, as opposed to her right to be giving orders. "Again, it's 'Arya'. Not Lady Stark, or Princess?"

"What are you trying to say, Jeyne?"

"It's very familiar, perhaps too much so: she has a title."

"I've never called her a title. At first it was Arry, then it was Arya. It's just the way it's always been."

"Oh Gendry," Jeyne sighed after a moment. "You're more of a fool than I am."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's not like you; she is from a whole different world to us."

"Jeyne-"

"You had a life here – have a life here. Please don't leave again. Stay. The children miss you; I miss you,"

Arya didn't stay to hear more; she felt she had already listened to too much. And what she had heard, she didn't know what to make of. She needed a quiet place to think, and so she moved off out to the Godswood.

She had been right then, Jeyne was in love with Gendry: everything in her tone of voice confirmed Arya's suspicions. Why should she be surprised? Gendry was handsome, he was tall, and muscly, and strong. And he was a wonderful person, he was kind, and loyal – a little quiet and serious for the most part, but still easy to talk to and laugh with. Who wouldn't fall for Gendry?

Arya was well aware she was developing feelings for Gendry, but she was keeping them suppressed as much as possible, ignoring them while she tried to focus on the task of leading an army, being a Princess and preparing to become a Queen. Plus, she had no idea how Gendry felt about her; like he had said to Jeyne, they were friends, and had been friends for a long time. But their growing closeness in the past weeks had caused her, in those brief moments of complete solitude, to question if simple friendship was all they shared: as well as talking to him more about her past and her family, in the time they spent together, there were glances that turned into lingering looks, and when their hands accidentally brushed against each other, they had started to hold the contact longer than strictly necessary.

She had been denying it from the moment they had arrived here, but Arya was jealous of Jeyne: Willow's welcome of Gendry caused the first stirrings of this new feeling, but Willow had quenched them just as quick when calling him a brother. Jeyne, however, looked at Gendry in a way that Arya really wished she wouldn't. When Nymeria had frightened Jeyne half to death, there was a part of Arya that had taken a little pleasure in the scene; seeing Nymeria guard Gendry against Jeyne's advances was perhaps the biggest warning sign that Arya had been suppressing feelings greater than a simple attraction – Nymeria was more in-tune with Arya's emotions than Arya was herself these days.

She had realised back in King's Landing that she didn't want Gendry to leave her side, and now she was beginning to understand – or at least admit – why that was. But did Gendry want to stay with her? He had pledged himself to her, back at Stoney Sept, and agreed to follow her until the end. But did he care about Jeyne enough to stay here?

Her musings were interrupted by the crunching of snow, as someone came up behind her.

"Sorry," Gendry apologised when he saw her. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You're not," Arya smiled. "You never do. I was just enjoying a little peace and quiet."

"I can go, if you prefer?"

"No, stay," Arya requested. She realised she almost sounded like Jeyne, and hated herself for it. "I haven't seen you all day; have you missed your forge?"

Gendry laughed. "Yes, and no. I haven't had much to do, really – everything that needed fixing I did in King's Landing. But it's been nice having my own little space for the day."

"Mathos mentioned he'd been with you today,"

"Yeah, we were just discussing….learning about some things," Gendry mumbled, almost avoiding the question.

"Learning what?"

"You'll find out, if anything comes of it. Right now, it's not that important. What time will we be leaving tomorrow?" Gendry asked changing the subject. Arya was heartened to hear him say "we", but he continued to avoid her eyes and stare forward thoughtfully.

"A couple of hours before dawn, hopefully. I think the days rest has done all the men some good." Arya paused for a moment, and then said slowly: "You don't have to come with us, if you would rather stay."

"You don't want to me come with you?" Gendry asked quickly, finally looking at Arya with a frown.

"Of course I want you to come with me," Arya assured him with feeling, and his frown relaxed. "I want you by my side until the very end, but this was your home for four years. I'll understand if you wanted to stay. I hope you don't, but it will be safe here – safer than the North. I wouldn't be angry if you wanted to remain with Jeyne."

Arya turned to walk back to the inn, but Gendry grabbed her wrist as she went past and turned her back to him.

"I don't want to stay here with Jeyne, and she knows that," he told her. "I swore my sword and my life to you back in Stoney Sept; I promised to follow you, and I intend to keep that promise. This was never a home, not really. It was just the place I was waiting; waiting for you to return, so I would have somewhere to go."

They were stood close, barely an inch between their bodies; Gendry still had hold of Arya's wrist, but his grip was gentle now. There was something – a feeling, an energy - moving between the two of them, an electric kind of tension that they were both well aware of. Arya instinctively chewed her bottom lip, wondering what was going to happen next. All it would take was one small step forward and their bodies would come together – and then what? Did she want to find out?

Yes. Yes, she did.

Arya slowly lifted her foot, intending to close the gap between them, when the snapping of a twig and the sounds of approaching footsteps in the snow alerted them to presence of another.

Instead of stepping towards Gendry, Arya unwillingly stepped back and turned to face the intrusion.

"Sorry," Willow said when she saw them. "The Maester was looking for you, both of you actually. When you weren't in your forge," she directed at Gendry, "I figured you would be here." Willow's eyes flickered to Gendry's hand still clasped around Arya's wrist.

Gendry let go, and Arya moved forward towards Willow. "Thank you, we'll go find him."

As Arya moved past, she saw Willow raise her eyebrows at Gendry, and struggle to contain a smirk.

"Don't," Gendry warned quietly, though Arya still heard. "Not a word."

The following morning, they departed the inn in good time and were well on their way by the time dawn crept up on the horizon. They joined the trident before the sun was fully risen, and took the Green Fork north not long after midday.

A days rest at the inn had given them all a new surge of energy and optimism, and the going was strong. They made camp by the river side, and broke through the ice every night to try and fish what they could. Arya and Gendry, though they never avoided each other, never brought up their moment in the Godswood. They had their moments alone, when Arya would reach out to her Raven and keep track of Harwin and Lady Stoneheart's movements; they reached Seaguard the same day Arya and her men left the river to circle around the Twins.

As well as keeping track of the others at Seaguard, Arya had been monitoring their own progress through Nymeria: She and her pack always hunted ahead of Arya on the nights, and when Nymeria came across a Frey sentry Arya knew it was time to leave the river, and circle around. From there, Nymeria and her pack kept to the West of Arya's army, maintaining a barrier between them and the Freys. Once into the sparse forest surrounding the Twins, it was safe enough to move close enough that the holdfast was visible to them – they stayed their banners to make detection harder, and Nymeria and her pack took care of any sentries that wandered too close.

Arya called an early halt to the march the night they circled; the top of the towers of the Twins could just be seen above the tree line to their South-West. As the camp settled in for the night, Arya made her usual rounds, but retired to her tent earlier than usual. She changed out of her breeches, and into a warm woollen dress that she had acquired in King's Landing. She removed her crown for the first time in weeks, wrapping it carefully and stowing it safely in her bedroll. She gave Lommy strict instructions to bring food to her tent in an hour, enough for him and herself, and to eat as much of it as he liked. Under no circumstance was he to mention to anyone that she would not be there, or let anyone inside.

Just as Arya threw a warm cloak around her, the flap of her tent rustled and Gendry entered. He stopped short when he saw her.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

Gendry gave her a strange look, and Arya thought he might understand exactly what she meant.

"That's the same 'nowhere' you use when you mean 'somewhere, but I'm not saying where'. Similar to your 'nothing' and 'no one'. What's happening?"

"Gendry,"

"You've been growing more distant since we left the inn," Gendry interrupted her, determined to get an answer from her. "Closing off again; for a brief time, I thought the old you was coming back, that the ice inside you was melting. But now, you've frozen over again: you're the person who I first saw in Stoney Sept. Who is that? Because it isn't Arya."

"She is no one. I'm a million different people from one day to the next."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I can't do this now Gendry," Arya sighed. "I need to go"

"Then let me come with you-"

"No. I'll have Nymeria with me, I'll be fine. Please, you need to stay here. Ask me no questions, say nothing to anyone. If you want to help, stay outside my tent and make sure no one enters. I'll be back in a few hours,"

"Will you?" Gendry asked quietly, a strange look in his eye.

"Of course I will!" Arya frowned.

"The last time you ran off in the middle of the night," Gendry started, but Arya interrupted.

"This is nothing like last time. I won't abandon my army. I won't abandon you. I'll be back before you know it."

Arya didn't stay to listen to anything else, she couldn't; she needed to be one hundred percent focused for the next few hours, and Gendry was certainly capable of distracting her. She threw her hood over her hair, covering her face, and slipped out of the back of her tent and into the night. Nymeria was waiting for her close by, they slipped past the sentries barely without notice – he saw movement and flashed his torchlight over Nymeria, but her size kept Arya hidden from him, and his wariness of the direwolf kept him back.

"Seven bloddy hells," Arya heard him mutter. "One day that wolf is going to scare the life right out of me."

Once clear, Arya climbed upon Nymeria's back. "Alright," she whispered to her wolf. "You know where we're going."

Being a direwolf, Nymeria was built for running in the deep snows of the North; without her pack to slow her down, she covered the ground at a fantastic rate. Arya estimated it took them barely two hours to reach the Twins. They paused at the edge of the woods, in the spot closest to the holdfast. Arya removed her cloak that was cumbersome and would slow her down, and held it out to Nymeria who took it in her mouth.

"Wait for me," she instructed. "Bring this to me when I return, and make sure you take out any Freys that get too close."

Arya then made her way into the Twins: it was slow going at first, trying to navigate a way in without being seen, but she had been trained well and patience was key to success. She made her way, hidden from view, into the servant's entrance of the holdfast and into the kitchen. Just outside was a pile of ashes, discarded from the cook-fires. On a whim, she grasped a couple of handfuls to sooty up her dress, and mark her face; if by some misfortune she was seen, it would be easy to pass for a lowly kitchen maid, who would be unknown to most people. She stood in the shadows of the kitchen for a few moments, listening to conversation trying to figure how to reach her intended destination.

It was as if luck was on her side, for she wasn't waiting long until a serving man entered requesting a tray for the "Old Lord."

"He's sent his young wife to her own chambers now he's done with her,"

"Done with her," scoffed the cook. "What much can he do at his age?"

"Well whatever he's done has left him with a thirst; he wants Strongwine."

There was an apathetic bustle as the wine was brought to the serving man on a tray, in a small jug with a single goblet next to it. As the man left, Arya moved swiftly and silently around the kitchen, keeping to the shadows and reaching the halls without detection. She followed the man through the mostly deserted castle, right up to the bedchamber of Lord Walder Frey.

There was one guard standing watch at the door; when he turned to open the door for the serving man, Arya took the opportunity to slip quietly into an alcove along the hall. The serving man re-emerged, exchanged a few words with the guard, and took off back down somewhere. It was now, or never.

Arya slipped a small dart, and a mouth-shooter from the sleeve of her dress, taking careful aim she shot the dart right into the guard's neck. The dart was coated in a potent toxin that sent its victim into an instant deep sleep – so deep it could be mistook for death. While it was potent, and fast-acting, it was not particularly long-lasting; Arya had thirty minutes at most. She emerged from her hideout and went to the guard, now sat slumped against the wall. She quickly removed the dart, stowing it back in her sleeve, before taking the guards cloak and throwing it over herself. She entered the bedchamber. There, before her, already asleep, was the frail and old body of Walder Frey. She had never seen him for herself, but he certainly matched the descriptions she had heard. He slept like a corpse, she noticed; on his back, straight as a plank, his arms down by his sides.

She walked around the bed slowly, all her lessons from Braavos clear in her mind. She drew a dagger from her belt, all the while listening intently for any sign of movement outside the door.

She went to the side of the bed, and climbed lightly onto Lord Walder, straddling his waist. He stirred, but didn't wake. Arya placed the dagger to his throat and covered his mouth with her free hand, then she leant down to speak quietly in his ear: "I have a gift for you, Walder Frey, and you will be awake to receive it."

With a few nudges Lord Walder stirred awake; at first he was confused, then he saw Arya, and felt her on his hips and the confusion was replaced with a lecherous leer, before he finally registered the hand over his mouth and the feel of cold steel at his neck, at which his eyes filled with panic.

"You don't know me, but you knew my Mother and my Brother. Winter is Coming," Arya said quietly, but Walder heard every word. The fear in his eyes grew and he tried to struggle against Arya, attempting to throw her off. Arya tightened her grip around his waist, pinning his arms securely to his side, and pressing her hand down firmer over his mouth.

"I am Arya, or House Stark and I have a gift for you. This is for Robb and my mother. Valour Morghulis." She said, sweeping the small blade neatly across his weak neck. His blood spilled freely across her hands and onto the cloak she had covered herself with, and Arya watched with satisfaction as the life left his eyes.

There was an unexpected movement to her right: unseen by her, in the small privy room adjoined to the bedchamber a dog had been presumably sleeping, but had now come out into his master's room. Arya heard the beginnings of a growl and quickly sent the dagger in her hand flying neatly across the room to silence the barks before they could begin.

She removed herself from the bed, her eyes never leaving the dog that now lay dead. As soon as she had set foot in the room she had embraced the no-one she had once been in Braavos, and no emotions could be found within her: in that moment she was cold, calculating, and only after revenge. Revenge for Robb, revenge for Grey Wind.

She stepped to retrieve the dagger, looked slowly to Walder's lifeless body, and then back to that of his dog. She didn't have much time, but she had time enough.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. A lot longer than the last one, let me know what you thought, if it's too long I'll cut the next chapter back.

I have a really busy few weeks at work in the lead up to Easter, and heading to conference mid-month it may be April before I get the next chapter up, but I will try and write as much of it as possible over the next couple of weeks.

Thanks for reading :)

xBx