A/N: Hey guys! First of all, thank you so much for all my reviews and the feedback, you guys are awesome! Secondly, I was su intent on getting u the last chapter I completely forgot about the lyric challenge :/ so for those keeping track, the lyric back in chapter 19 was "can't get revenge and keep a spotless reputation, sometimes revenge is a choice you've got to make." which is from 'Mamma's Broken Heart' by Miranda Lambert. This chapter has a lyric from a well known Bryan Adams song :)

And finally, this chapter is a little shorter than the last ones, because I've ended up splitting it in half :/ I started writing and I still haven't stopped! On the plus side, now the next chapter is almost done, and should hopefully be up at the weekend :)

But for now, here is the first of two Gendry chapters :) Enjoy!

xBx

Chapter 21: Gendry

Gendry wasn't sure how he had ended up here, and he was half convinced this was a dream. It had all happened so quickly: One minute, Gendry was handing over the re-worked Valyrian steel, then suddenly they were kissing. After presenting her with the sword, he spent what felt like the longest moment in his life thinking he had overstepped the mark. He was convinced he had made a terrible mistake in messing with the swords without confirming it was what Arya wanted, and he was bracing himself for another tirade, but instead she had kissed him. It had lasted barely a second, but in that second he instinctively held her waist not wanting to let her go. And it seemed as though she didn't want to pull back either; she stayed right there, allowing him to pull her closer, and before he could fully comprehend what was happening he was kissing her again. Only this time it was different: it wasn't quick and seemingly unintentional; it was slow, and deep, and purposeful.

He lost himself in the feel of her hands in his hair, her body pressed close to his, and the taste of her lips. But in the back of his mind a small voice was trying to warn him that this was a dangerous road to start down. That voice was quickly muted and forgotten when Arya hesitantly traced his lip with her tongue – any restraint he may have been showing shattered there and then. His body took over his mind, and their kiss intensified even more than before.

He had no idea how long they had been entwined, but at some point Gendry had lifted her up onto his hips, and now Arya was sat on the table with her legs wrapped around Gendry's waist. Her hands were no longer entangled in his hair, but were now tracing lightly over his chest, raking down his muscles, and her touch was driving him wild.

There was a noise in the other room, but Gendry was so consumed by Arya that he ignored it, and Arya likewise had not seemed to hear it. Her hands had snaked around his waist and were now running up his back, pulling him into her as she leaned back into the table. Gendry wound an arm around her, keeping her from falling back too far, and before he could stop himself his other hand ran down from her waist and along her thigh,

"Gendry?"

Their little bubble was shattered in an instant and the pair wrenched apart, the sudden movement sending a cup clattering to the floor. Gendry instinctively moved to retrieve it, as Arya jumped down from the table and hastily righted herself, just as Harwin entered the room. There was a brief moment of silence, broken by Harwin just as Gendry was straightening up with the cup in his hand.

"Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace," Harwin greeted calmly, and Gendry saw him sweep into a low bow from the corner of his eye. "I didn't realise you were here – I was told you were with Howland Reed."

Gendry had yet to look at Harwin, but he could feel the man's gaze burning into him, and knew that as soon as Arya left he would be in for another lecture.

"I was, I just came from there," Arya affirmed, a tinge of sadness to her tone. She had collected herself almost instantly, and gave no hint that Harwin had almost caught her in a very compromising position. "Lord Howland is not well; it appears he is on his deathbed. I don't believe he has long left."

"I am sorry to hear that," Harwin said feelingly. "I know he was liked well by you father. They were close at one time, during Robert's rebellion."

"Yes they were," Arya sighed. "I stopped by here on my way from visiting Lord Howland," Arya continued to explain. She reached back to pick up the sword still sitting on the table. "Gendry has just given me this," she unsheathed the hilt, exposing a portion of the blade for Harwin's inspection.

"Is that? It looks like…"

"Ice," Arya finished for him. "It is the same Valyrian steel that made my father's blade. Gendry re-forged it."

Up to now, Gendry had been studiously avoiding Harwin's eye, but he now chanced a glance and saw that Harwin was looking at the sword in slight awe.

"Incredible," Harwin whispered. "A little shorter than I remember, I think – closer to a bastard blade?"

Arya nodded.

"Does it have a name yet?" Harwin asked. "Or will it continue to be Ice?"

Arya thought for a moment, and then slowly shook her head. "It wouldn't feel right to call it Ice: Ice was my father's, and while it is the same steel, it's not the same sword. It will need a new name. Something true to the Starks and the North."

Harwin suggested a few, after a brief contemplative silence, most involving "Wolf" or "Wolf's" in the title. They all sounded awkward as they rolled of the tongue, and even Harwin did not look convinced as he spoke them.

"They don't sound right," Gendry said, after the third suggestion. "It doesn't have the same feel as 'Ice', it needs to be something similar to that, I think."

"Like snow?" Harwin asked with a frown. "That doesn't sound fierce at all. Or Frost?"

"Winter," Arya said quietly. She let the word hang for a second.

Slowly, Harwin began to nod. "I like that; it's unassuming but there is a hint at something deadly."

"It does give a whole new meaning to the Stark words," Gendry acknowledged. "Winter is Coming sounds much more sinister."

"Very apt, though, considering you're about to storm north and take back you home," Harwin added. "Winter is coming with a vengeance."

"Winter it is then," Arya declared, pushing the hilt back into the scabbard with purpose.

"I should leave you," Arya said suddenly. "You obviously sought out Gendry for a reason, and I should welcome the others. Thank you, for your work Harwin – everything went to plan?"

"It did your Grace," Harwin smiled. "The others are settling into their accommodation, but then I think they would be pleased to share the tidings, if you command it."

Arya nodded, "of course. We shall meet in my solar; I'll have Lommy serve us there this evening, we can eat and talk at the same time."

"Very good, you grace. I would just like a quick word with Gendry, and then I shall follow. If that's alright?"

"Of course," Arya made to leave, but turned back to look at Gendry from the door. "Thank you for the sword, Gendry. And thank you for the drink and…" she let her sentence trail off, and bit at her lip, but there was a glint in her eye that made Gendry certain she was thinking of their kiss.

"It was my pleasure, milady," he grinned back at her, causing her to roll her eyes at him before she left him alone with Harwin.

When the door to the forge closed, Harwin folded his arms and continued to look at Gendry accusingly. Gendry studiously avoided his gaze, and Harwin took a deep breath, exhaling loudly through his nose, clearly indicating his judgement.

"What?" Gendry finally spoke, trying to feign a nonchalance he did not feel. His heart was still pounding, although it had slowed some, and his body was still tingling from the kiss. His hands were balled in his pocket, but he had a suspicion that if he removed them they may still be trembling ever so slightly. The silence dragged on, and Gendry half hoped that Harwin wasn't going to say anything about what he interrupted – maybe Gendry was overreacting, and Harwin actually had no clue about what he almost witnessed.

"Seven Hells, Gendry!" Harwin finally cursed. "Did I not specifically warn you, ages ago, to be careful – to not go down this road."

"I don't know what-"

"No," Harwin cut him off. "Don't give me that. You know full well what I'm talking about, lad. I'm not stupid, I know exactly what I interrupted."

"We weren't-" Gendry tried to defend, but once more Harwin cut across.

"Your hair always stick up like that at the back, does it?" He asked, and Gendry nervously ran his hand over his head looking uncomfortable. "And I know you work in a forge, and it's hot, but you're never that flushed. And don't even get me started on how Arya looked when I walked in. Queen Arya," Harwin added with intensity. "She is your queen. You are not a couple of runaways anymore, Gendry."

"I know that!" Gendry snapped. "I know she is a queen, that she is leading an army, that she has many people following her around at all times of the day. I know that! But that doesn't make her a different person to the girl I met,"

"But it does!" Harwin countered feelingly, clearly frustrated. "God's Gendry! I leave you alone for five minutes - how long has this been going on?"

Gendry remained stubbornly silent. He didn't feel he had anything to hide, but he didn't want to talk about either; this was between him and Arya.

"Oh seven hells!" Harwin swore warily. "Please tell me you haven't."

"Haven't what?" Gendry asked confused but still annoyed. Harwin looked at him meaningfully.

"I mean it. You better not have bedded her - she better still be a maiden, or I swear to the Gods I will kill you myself."

"Bloody hell, Harwin! Of course we haven't – I'm not stupid!"

"When it comes to Arya Stark, you are."

"I resent that."

"Resent it all you like, you're still a bloody idiot when it comes to that woman!" Harwin sighed, he took a seat at the table and helped himself to a drink. "I like you, lad, you're like family to me now. And I don't want to see you get hurt, but you're heading right for heartbreak. I don't know what you think is going to happen here, but she is not the same girl she once was. She is a Queen now, and she has duties to fulfil."

"I am aware of that," Gendry snapped.

"Are you?" Harwin asked gently. "Are you fully aware of what that means? Duty has to come first now, for her. When she takes back Winterfell and the North, she will have to secure her hold, by producing an heir. She is going to have to marry some high Lord, or his son, to form an alliance and conceive a son to continue the Stark reign."

Gendry's stomach dropped. He had never thought of this, but it seemed so obvious now.

"Good luck trying to get Arya to do that if she doesn't want to," Gendry stubbornly countered, remembering her reaction to the suggested betrothal to Ned Dayne and trying to hold on to a little bit of hope.

"It doesn't matter if she wants it or not," Harwin said gently. "She's not the youngest daughter of a Lord, who can get away with doing what she likes, anymore. She's the last Stark: a liege and a Queen"

Gendry turned from Harwin under the pretence of clearing away his own cup and the now empty bottle, but in reality it was to hide the turmoil he knew would be showing in his eyes. He wished he could hide his emotions the way he had seen Arya do.

"I should go," Harwin said quietly, after a moment. "I should not keep her Grace waiting."

Gendry made a grunt of acknowledgment, but still didn't look up at Harwin as he left. When he heard the door close, Gendry went to pull the bolt across, locking himself away for the night. The fire, and the high, that had been brought on by Arya's touch had faded, and Harwin's warning had left him feeling empty. He tried to sleep, but all he did was lay on his cot for hours, staring at the ceiling thinking solely of Arya. She is going to have to marry some high lord, or his son.

Harwin had missed something vitally important from that sentence, he thought bitterly: some high lord, or his son that bears his name. Gendry was the son of King, after all, but was obviously unworthy in Harwin's eyes, because he lacked the Baratheon name. But at the end of the day, Arya would not do anything that she didn't want to do, regardless of whether it was expected or not – he knew her well enough to be certain of that.

Gendry wasn't necessarily thinking she would marry him instead of some northern lord with a respected name, or that she would ever want to marry him anyway. But she had kissed him back. More than that, she had kissed him first. And when he had kissed her again, she had not only let him, but had thrown herself into it with passion; she had definitely enjoyed it just as much as he had. That thought cheered him somewhat, and it were thoughts like that which drifted him into sleep.

The following morning, they were greeted with the news of Howland Reed's passing. It brought an abrupt end to the euphoria of their victory over the Ironmen, the news of which had spread quickly upon Harwin's return. Arya had intended to set forth in another day, as news of the destruction of the fleet would surely have reached the Ironmen in the North by now. However, in light of Lord Howland's passing, she made the decision to delay until after his funeral.

The funeral happened quickly; only two days after his passing he was laid to rest in a crypt below the keep. As the Reeds kept the Old Gods of the North, there was no vigil to be kept in a sept, and very little ceremony – a few words were uttered under a Heart Tree. This was a proper Heart Tree, the first proper one Gendry had seen: a weirwood with a carved face. It was hauntingly beautiful and yet almost terrifying at the same time.

The remained at Greywater Watch another day. From here, Arya had sent Ravens to the holdfasts she knew were still being held by Northmen whom she was confident would be likely to come to her cause. She had written to implore them to gather their armies, whatever men they could, and prepare to meet her when she next sent word, to help her reclaim Winterfell.

It was a healthy host that marched north: those who had remained south to return to their homes had been replaced by Robb's men who had waited at Greywater having no place else to go. They also had the addition of House Reed and their banner men, as well as a handful of men Harwin and the Lady Stoneheart had picked up along their way through the Riverlands.

Now that they were well and truly in the north, their marching patterns changed: they left Greywater Watch in the evening, and marched through the darkest part of the night, only making camp when the sun was high in the sky; they would eat not long after midday and then sleep through until dusk, waking once more to march on early in the night.

The march on this side of the neck was a lot harder than it had been in the south; though the main roads were somewhat passable, the snow was never lower than their knees, and only the toughest garrons could plough through it.

There were now two sets of outriders: one set remained a little further in front to scout ahead, while the second set closely surrounded the main host, keeping them fully encircled with light. There was little need for them to venture far, as Nymeria and her pack were still faithfully following them, and anything that might come for them would have to get past the wolves first.

Each night, Gendry would march close to Arya, sometimes at her side and sometimes just behind. She would alternate between her men each day, giving each of them a turn to talk with her, laugh with her, and strategize with her. Come daylight, when they made camp, only Arya had a small tent to herself. The rest of them slept under large tents that could fit fifty men at least; that many bodies, and a number of small braziers dotted around, helped to keep them warm in the biting cold of the harsh northern winter.

Most days, Arya would eat with the men, sat around the cook-fires, and once again Gendry was always by her side. He couldn't escape her – he didn't want to escape her. No matter who she would be talking and eating with, Gendry would always end up part of the conversation, and by the end of the meal they would end up in a conversation just the two of them. Gendry was aware he was probably not hiding his feelings well, and was sure others were beginning to notice. He tried to keep a handle on them, tried to supress them; always in the back of his mind was Harwin's warning regarding Arya's expectation of marrying someone more deserving. But try as he might, he couldn't bury his feelings for long.

They were only a couple of days from Moat Cailin when Arya chose to eat within her tent, with a select few of her main men, for this first time. A few days before, she had sent a group, led by Gellert Reed, to take another route through the swamps that was only know to the crannogmen. The intention was for them to travel around Moat Cailin so that they could come at it from the North, where its defences were weakest. The rest would have to attack from the south, though how was still to be decided.

As usual, they stopped to make camp not long after the sun was clear in the sky, and by the time the tents had been erected, and the fires were hot enough to cook, the sun was at its apex. Gendry was helping Maester Mathos bring in some hot coals for Arya's brazier while Lommy was setting up the only table they had with them to eat at.

"When you're done with that, Lommy, fetch Harwin, Ned Dayne, the Lady Maege, Norrey and Knott," Arya ordered. "Lord Glover as well," she added as Lommy was leaving, before turning to the Maester. "Mathos, would you find the maps when you're done, we may need them."

"Of course, your grace," Mathos smiled.

"You'll be joining us, of course?" Arya smiled at Gendry, in a tone that clearly assumed his answer.

"If you wish, your Grace," he responded with the tiniest smirk, as Mathos left the tent to fetch the maps Arya had requested.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," Arya sighed. "It's too formal."

"Formal, but necessary," Gendry countered. "Especially when there are others around – particularly Harwin," he added, more to himself. Gendry didn't think he could take another lecture from the man, but Harwin had been looking at him in that way in the last few days, which told Gendry he was going to get another talking-to when the opportunity presented itself.

"Well, there's no one else around now," Arya pointed out.

"No," Gendry agreed. He thought back to the last time they had been alone, and his throat went dry. And it seemed Arya's thoughts were on a similar track to his.

"This is first time we've been alone since that evening in Greywater."

Gendry was well aware of this, and was suddenly very conscious of how close they were. He cleared his throat and turned away to put some distance between them. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming, but Harwin's warning, and the fact the Lommy could return with others at any second, were clear in the forefront of his mind.

"What's wrong?" Arya asked, sounding confused, and even a little unsure.

"Nothing," he tried to convince her. How could he explain what was going on in his mind? How could he tell her the emotional turmoil he was going through, just being this close to her?

"Gendry?" She started, and then sighed. "Never mind," he heard her mumble. Gendry turned back to Arya to see her looking at the brazier thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked quietly, and Arya looked up at him.

"It's nothing," she said after a moment, with a shake her head. "Just, I thought," she paused, and then dropped her gaze, biting her lip in that way she always did when struggling with her thoughts.

Gendry instinctively took a step back towards her, wanting to know what she was reluctant to say. She looked up at him, suddenly, after a moment's reflection.

"Did I cross the line? That night in Greywater?" She asked him calmly, but there was something in her eyes that made him think she wasn't as calm as she sounded. He was getting used to reading her now, and seeing behind her mask – or maybe she was just letting him in. "Should I not have kissed you?"

Gendry didn't know how to respond; he tried to say something – anything! -but instead his mouth made a strange sound, and he cleared his throat once more.

"I apologise," Arya continued, dropping he gaze once more. "I did not mean to overstep – especially if you are, perhaps, promised to another?" she said carefully. "Is there more between you and Jeyne than I realised?"

"What? No!" Gendry was quick to assure her, surprised out of his silence and suddenly alarmed that he had given her pause to think that. And wondering what had made her even think of that possibility in the first place!

"No," He said again, a little more measured this time. "You did not overstep. I should be apologising to you – I was the one who overstepped. We're not a couple of runaways anymore, you're a queen now," He tried to explain, using the words Harwin had said to him back in the forge at Greywater.

"So?" Arya frowned. "We're still Arya and Gendry – didn't we have this conversation before? Do we really need to have it again?"

"You'll have to marry some Lord, one day," Gendry continued.

"Oh seven hells!" Arya interrupted, sounding exasperated. "Why is everyone so obsessed with me marrying all of sudden?"

"Because you're Queen, now," Gendry pressed, once more repeating what Harwin had told him. "You need to marry, and provide an heir to secure your hold on Winterfell and the north."

"Secure?" Arya laughed darkly. "Gods! I need to take it back, first! This is a conversation for spring – assuming we make it that far."

"What do you mean?" Gendry asked, suddenly wary.

"We are marching north in the grip of winter, to fight the Greyjoys and the Boltons. Assuming they don't get us, the cold and the Others just might. The days are getting shorter, and soon we will be in the long night, and only the Gods know how long that will last and whether we'll have enough food and warmth to survive. But if we do survive, if we make it through to spring – only then will I need to think about 'securing my claim' as you say."

Gendry wasn't sure what to say to that: the general feeling among the army was one of optimism and excitement, despite the harsh conditions they were marching in. And Arya was so good at hiding her thoughts, he had never truly realised just how wary she perhaps was.

"I just want to go home, Gendry," she sighed quietly after a moment's pause, sounding almost tired. And he suddenly realised that she must be exhausted – she had been trying to get home since they had left King's Landing roughly six or seven years ago now, and she had only just finally set foot in the North. But there was still a long way to go.

"I just want to go home, to Winterfell, and weather out the rest of winter. But I need to fight first: fight for my home, with you by my side - don't tell me it's not worth fighting for, you can't tell me it's not worth dying for. I don't want to worry about what is right and what is proper, right now – I never have worried about it in the past. I just want to enjoy what I have right now," she told him earnestly. "So please stop putting up a fight every time we get close."

She had moved closer to him as she had been speaking, and Gendry had almost become hypnotised by the softness of her words and the sincerity in her eyes. She tentatively reached out her hands and gently rested them on his torso, just below his chest. Instinctively, his hands went to her waist and rested there just as gently as hers. Whatever reservations he may have had, whatever he may have told himself in order to try and exercise caution, all was forgotten: all that mattered now was that Arya was right there in his arms, and he never wanted to let her go.

"Harwin is going to kill me," Gendry whispered with a sigh of defeat.

"Not unless I command it," Arya whispered back with a grin, and Gendry knew from her smile that she knew she had won. She inched closer to him, coming up onto her toes.

"Lommy will be back with the others soon," Gendry warned.

"Yes," Arya agreed, chewing her lip with playful grin.

"So we probably shouldn't…"

"Probably not," she agreed again. But they were too close to stop now – and even if Gendry wanted to, he didn't think he could. His lips brushed gently against hers, but before they could lose themselves they heard Nymeria give a short yowl from outside the tent – a warning of someone approaching. The hastily stepped apart as the tent flaps rustled; Arya moved to the table to pick up her cup as Gendry turned to face Harwin, who gave him an exasperated look. Gendry tried to look innocent, but the man wasn't to be fooled. Harwin knew – he always knew – and Gendry didn't even bother to try and convince himself otherwise. Harwin didn't say a word, just rolled his eyes as others entered the tent behind Harwin.

Ara welcomed them in and they all moved as one to seat themselves around the small trestle table, where they would eat, drink, and then discuss their plans for Moat Cailin.

Arya was silent for the most part, letting each of those gathered have their turn at speaking, and listening intently to their suggestions and discussion. Gendry tried to follow as best he could, and added his own voice to the mix on occasion, but with such a number crowded around so small a table they were all sitting closer than normal. Elbows accidentally collided when they ate, arms were grazed against others when one moved to tug a map closer, and Gendry was too easily distracted whenever Arya's leg would happen to brush against his own as she moved. He wondered vaguely if she was perhaps doing it on purpose, probably knowing full well the effect she would be having.

"The holdfast is strong to the south, it was built to stop armies going North," Norrey was saying.

"If the squids can take it, we can damn well take it back with ease," Lord Glover countered fiercely. "They can't stay in there forever."

"We don't have time for a siege," Gendry said carefully. He knew Arya wanted to move on as quickly as possible.

"Perhaps we could negotiate?" Suggested Norrey. He was the most diplomatically minded out of the Northmen, it seemed. "Talk our way through, get them to yield. We will likely outnumber them twenty to one at least, and a siege will be pointless. With their ships burnt at Pyke, they will have no chance of reinforcements,"

"They're not likely to give in that easy," Harwin said grimly, with a shake of his head. "Besides, if we start negotiating, we'll be there for days – as Gendry said, we don't have time for that. We need to take the castle, and take it quickly – catch them unawares."

"It's not easy to take from the south," Knott reiterated. "The weakness in the defence lies on the north side,"

"Which is why we have sent Gellert Reed and his Crannogmen to take their way through the swamp lands," Arya finally spoke up. "They will bypass Moat Cailin to come around and down from the north. But you have the right of it: we need to take it quickly, and the element of surprise will be our greatest advantage."

"That will be a difficult advantage to manage," Gendry countered, speaking bluntly. "We march in the night, surrounded by torches - their sentries will see us coming long before we see the holdfast."

"If we could send scouts out ahead without the torches," Ned began to suggest, but Lady Mormont cut him off.

"And offer them up as live bait to the Others, and whatever else is creeping out in the darkness? It's not worth the risk. Besides, the nights have been so dark, our men won't see what we're up against until they're right under the walls."

"If only we had eyes like the wolf, we'd see as clear as day through the dark, and keep anyone else at bay," Ned grumbled.

Gendry felt Arya tense beside him and he looked across at her; she sat up a little straighter and took a pensive sip from her cup.

"Well, we don't," Harwin said shortly. "So let's plan with what we've got."

"Maybe we do," Arya said carefully. "Ned's on to something: we have the wolves-"

"Wolves are wild, they can not be trained to do a human's bidding," Knott argued.

"No," Arya agreed. "But they follow Nymeria's lead, and I can control Nymeria. The wolves can guide us, and protect us from whatever is out there - only a small number of us, it's true, but it might be enough." She stood then and pulled the maps closer to her, leaning over to point on the map as she spoke.

"We're not going to know everything until we get right under the walls, that's a truth we can't change. But we can surmise well enough to plan our attack. Nymeria can go on ahead and be my eyes, she'll be able to see how many towers have sentries and how many sentries there are."

She paused here, clearly thinking carefully of the next step, and Norrey used the moment to question her previous remark.

"How can Nymeria tell us the number of men we're like to face?" His tone was one of genuine wonderment, and not cynical or mocking in the least, but Gendry was uncertain how Arya would answer. He of course knew exactly what she was planning to do. In the end it was Maege Mormont who answered him.

"Direwolves are no ordinary wolves. and the Starks have a way with them, my friend," she said with a smile. "The Mormonts live further north than the rest of you, so happen we remember better than the lot of you. If her Grace says Nymeria will tell us, let's just trust her and leave it at that."

"The ironmen are made for reaving the shoreline, not holding keeps in the middle of land," Arya continued, as if there had been no interruption. "There's not likely to be many of them, but we still need to take out their sentries fast,"

"Anguy would have them off the walls in no time," Harwin commented. "And still have arrows to spare. A few of the lads he's been training are getting damn fine with their shots too."

Arya nodded. "I won't need many; the fewer of us the better. We can go forward with no torches - Nymeria and her pack can surround us and be our leading eyes. I'll take only the best archers and the best climbers, we won't need the better fighters yet. Once we take down the sentries, we'll be over the walls quickly. If they react fast, and open the gates to engage us, the wolves can take care of them. It's likely they'll only have two, of the three, towers manned, and there's probably no more than thirty of them behind the walls, and most of them will be asleep. If things go to plan, it should be an easy take. We'll halt the march out of sight of the castle, in the middle of the night. I'll take a score of men with me: we'll go on foot, the rest of you will keep back beyond their sight, and then join us at dawn." she declared.

A/N: So a couple of thousand words shorter than usual, but since the next half was looking to be another 5,000 words at least, I thought I'd best give you something to read while I finished the rest :)

I hope you enjoyed, I'll finish off the next part this week and get it posted over the weekend.

Thanks again for reading, let me know what you thought :)

xBx