A/N: Sorry this update took so long. I'm committed to finishing this story. I have the rest of the story outlined and the next update will be within a week. Let me know what you think. :D

Chapter 24 Dreams Come With a Price

Golden sunlight glitters through the dense forest, its rays casting golden bands along the path. Turning in the saddle, Arya frowns, struggling to remember the places she and Sandor camped so long ago. We always camped by a creek or river; they should be along here somewhere.

Suddenly Ghost darts through the underbrush ahead of them, woofing softly. He has picked up the scent of his littermate. Eagerly Arya spurs her horse onward in pursuit. "Jon, this way!" She is impatient to reach her elder sister, for there are many things Arya wishes to tell her, things only Sansa would understand.

Though they were part of a pack, Sansa alone shared witness to their father's death. When Sansa screamed and struggled against the guard, calling for someone, anyone, to stop Ilyn Payne, her voice carried over the crowd of shouting onlookers to Arya until Sansa was the only one she heard.

Arya felt Sansa's cries echo in her own heart, her suffering searing through her belly like a molten blade, the pain driving her closer to the platform with Needle at the ready. She would have killed every person assembled that day to get to Sansa and her father, had Yoren not stopped her. Their grief was shared, visceral, primal, boiling with rage and misery.

From that day forward, Arya felt bonded to Sansa in a way the rest of the family would never understand. They have never talked about it, nor did they need to, for when they were rejoined many years later, with tears and embraces the sisters' hearts related it all.

Arya's hand instinctively rests on Wolf's Blood, one of two Valyrian swords Danaerys had forged from Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail at the recollection of that day. "Sansa and I will do what Father and Robb could not," she says aloud like a prayer.

"Wait up, Arya," Jon shouts, brushing the brambles out of his face as they lead their horses deeper into the tree line. "Easy Sis, watch yourself. We don't know who or what else is in these woods."

Sardonically Arya turns toward him, a mocking smile playing on her mouth. "Jon, do you truly believe there is something more dangerous than the prince who was promised, an assassin trained as a Faceless Man, the Hound and a direwolf that is as quiet as a cat?" Laughingly she shakes her head. "Just what the hell do you think is in this forest, brother?"

Chuckling Jon nods. "Never hurts to be prepared. Force of habit from serving the Night's Watch."

"Uh, huh," Arya grins at him. "Hurry up, brother, I can't wait!" Ahead of them, Ghost howls low. "He has found them!"

"How can you be sure?"

"You said the only time he ever made a noise was when he was with his littermates! Let us go!"

Nymeria. The nearness of her beloved direwolf calls to her too, a yearning that courses through her blood as natural and desperate as hunger and thirst. Arya still feels the pain of their separation as acutely as the day she chased her off on the Kingsroad. After being estranged for so long, the direwolf's close proximity drives her onward, and the closer Arya comes to Sansa and Sandor's camp, the stronger the sensation becomes. "Jon, they are just up ahead, I can feel it. Hurry!"

Mournful howls answer her, sending shivers through both Arya and Jon. "I believe you are right," Jon motions toward Ghost, who has stopped and cocked his head beside a steep embankment. Whirling sharply, the animal sprints down toward the creek bed below.

"Arya, Sansa and Sandor must be camped down there somewhere," Jon comments warily. "It seems like a safe enough place. That is where I would have stopped for the night."

"Of course; this looks just like the places we camped! Brother, can you not feel them near?"

"Yes, I do." Jon admits. "Steady, Arya."

In a small clearing at the edge of a shallow stream, the siblings come upon Sandor and Sansa sitting on a nearby log as though expecting them. "Sweet sister!" Arya swings herself out of the saddle and fairly runs into Sansa's waiting arms. "Look at you!" She gazes appreciatively at her older sister, taking in her womanly figure and glowing face. Sansa is relaxed, happy and cheerful, and Arya heaves a sigh of relief. "Jon, just look at how well she looks! Your cheeks are as rosy as in olden days."

Blushing, her sister eagerly hugs them in return. "Arya, you are looking quite well yourself. What a beauty you have become!" Sansa's eyes meet her own. "Is everything quite alright?"

"Oh, yes of course," Arya demurs, shaking her head as Jon looks over the wagon.

"Clegane, we're here."

"Jon and I couldn't wait any longer to see you and the babies. What has kept you here in this spot?"

"Nothing, oh nothing at all," Sansa winks in return. "The mornings are slow with two hungry babes. We were just ready to leave for Winterfell."

Jon kisses Sansa on each cheek. "A proper lady and mum you are, Sansa."

"You look well, brother."

"As do you."

After carefully looking over her sister once more, Arya finally agrees. "Yes, proper as ever; being married to a dog doesn't seem to have changed you any. Where do have the little ones hidden, Sis?"

"They are inside napping," Sansa smiles broadly as she takes Jon and Arya each by the hand. "Come and meet you niece and nephew."

Leaning in close, Arya needles Sansa's side. "Where is that hound of a husband of yours, anyway? He disappeared when we rode up."

"Sandor thought he heard the babies so he went to check on them. I tell him he is merely nervous."

"So you trained him to take care of his pups, have you, Sis? He must be quite tamed."

Ducking his head out of the wagon, Sandor snarls at Arya. "Come to finish me off, have you, wolf bitch?"

"Like you would have heard me if I did." Rolling her eyes at him, she looks him over. "Dog, you're ugly as ever but I guess that's expected from someone who's returned from the dead."

Smirking, Sandor nods stiffly, his mouth twisting into a devilish curl. "I could say the same to you."

Throwing her head back, Arya laughs long and hard, and much to Jon and Sansa's relief, Sandor soon joins her. "Charming as always, I see. You clearly have taken good care of my sister, so I suppose letting you live was wise after all. When I first heard you were alive, I half expected you to come after me."

"Might do yet."

Arya laughs once more. "If you get out of line, I'll have Nymeria finish you off this time."

"Bugger that, and you, too. Your wolf likes me well enough." Sandor snarls out. "I'll get the babes."

"Where is Nymeria?" Arya glances around. "I felt her-"

At the sound of her name, the immense direwolf leaps out of the brush, whining like a pup and covering her face in kisses. Ghost dances around them, wagging his tail. "Nymeria! Oh I have missed you! I could feel you, girl, the closer we got to camp." Suddenly overwhelmed, she tearfully buries her face in the animal's luxuriant fur. "We will never be parted again; I swear it on the old gods."

Sansa brushes away a tear and smiles longingly at seeing her sister reunited with her beloved direwolf. Sandor bends down and offers the squirming bundle to Arya while Nymeria nudges her eagerly. "Meet Catya Clegane; Catya, meet your Aunt Arya."

Arya remains frozen, suddenly overwhelmed that her niece is named after both her and her mother. Nymeria immediately sniffs the baby thoroughly, whining softly and nosing Arya to accept her.

"Catya Clegane," Arya nods, struggling to hold back her tears as she takes the cooing bundle into her arms. "It suits her well. She's so tiny."

"Well she's a mite bigger than she was five months ago," Sandor shrugs, handing Edric to Jon. "Here is your nephew Edric, goodbrother."

"It's been years since I held a babe-" Jon protests.

"Just hold his head," Sandor gruffly adjusts Jon's arms, "like this. You've got him."

Stunned, Arya casts a surprised look at Sansa. "Sis, I cannot believe my eyes. The Hound giving lessons on child care. Things have changed!"

"Bugger off. Come, I want to talk privately, Jon."

As the men walk away, Sansa leans in close. "Arya, what is it? Tell me."

"Sister, I've, well, I've gone and done something stupid, really-stupid but wonderful."

"What?"

Wincing, Arya sneaks a peek at Sansa with a shrug. "I married Gendry."

"You did? " Sansa pulls her away further from Jon and Sandor. "Oh my dearest! Arya, do you love him?"

Blushing, Arya ducks her head. "Yes, very much."

"Are you-"

"NO!"

"Then forgive me but why did you say it was stupid?"

"I did it in the forest in front of the old gods. We said our vows at the Heart tree, just the two of us," Arya confesses, wringing her hands. I wanted it to be just us, no one else. Well, Bran spoke to us there but that was it. Jon and the queen don't know."

"Why ever not?"

"Because-because I didn't want Gendry to think I agreed only because it was what Danaerys wanted, that's why. He and I were a pack years ago and, well, I was a child then but now when I met him again it was easy and familiar and-" Arya stops abruptly when Sansa draws her close in her arms, looking and feeling so very much like their late mother.

"Because you love him," Sansa finishes, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes with a soft smile. "That is not stupid; that is the best reason of all."

"Yes, but what of the queen? She expected me to wed him to merge houses. I cannot help but feel obligated to her, after all she has done for us, and she is family. Her and Jon would have wanted some big elaborate feast and invited all these people that Gendry and I do not know and expected-"

"And expected you to be someone you are not, if only for a day, for her sake. I know you do not want to appear ungrateful." Sansa sighs understandingly. "I feared the same when I married Sandor. But you must give Danaerys more credit, Arya. She knows exactly what it is to marry a man you do not know, have a huge feast with people you have never met to secure alliances. I am certain she would understand. Hiding it will only make matters worse."

"I know. I only waited for your return, Sansa, and that way if she wants me out, at least you will be in Winterfell. Dany is a good sort I think, but she will do what she has to do as queen. She is not one of us, no matter how good she is, and I am not some child forced to wed a Dothraki horse lord. I do not expect her to understand me, Sansa. I have a choice. And the whole big wedding to unite houses-well, that's not me."

Sansa embraces Arya soundly and takes Catya from her arms. "We will tell her together, Sister, as soon as we return. Let us make things right by telling Jon first, alright?"

A sharp whistling sound cuts through the trees, piercing the stillness. That noise…Arya turns sharply toward the tree line to see Nymeria wrenching an archer bearing the sigil of a flayed man from the trees and noisily tearing him apart.

With her hackles raised, the enormous direwolf stands over the body and lets out a long bloodcurdling howl which is soon answered by the other wolves in the forest. Wolves-it is Nymeria's pack! "Nymeria, protect Sansa and the babes!"

Saliva pours from the enraged direwolf's fangs as she takes position alongside Arya, dwarfing the young woman. The sound of swords clashing near the riverbed tell her that Sandor and Jon have been engaged by more men, and drawing Wolf's Blood and Needle, Arya fights alongside Nymeria to blocks the enemy soldiers rushing toward her sister.

"Fear cuts deeper than swords!" She screams into the first soldier's face as her blade pierces his armored plate. "Sansa, run!"

Ghost drags another man forward. Thick blood pours from a gaping wound in his back, staining the animals muzzle and paws. "Our blades are sharp," he gasps out before the massive direwolf's jaws clamp down on his throat, the sound barely audible over the clashing of steel and Nymeria's ferocious snarls.

"The man who fears losing has already lost," Arya spits in his face, then motions for Ghost to finish him.

"Arya," Sansa slumps before her with a long arrow jutting from her collarbone. "Don't-"

Out of the corner of her eye, Arya sees Ghost tearing the man from the trees, easily dismembering him.

"You're alright, sister." Kneeling, she takes Sansa into her arms, "Look at me. You're alright."

"Don't let them get the babes, Arya, please," Sansa whispers out. "Look after my children."

"You will do that yourself," Arya smooths the red strands from her face. "You and Sandor together." Ripping off her cloak, she presses it tightly to Sansa's shoulder. "You only have a flesh wound. You will live."

"It hurts-"

"Don't try to talk," Arya lays her into the grass.

"No!" Sandor's voice screams into her ear. He and Jon are covered in blood, but whether it is theirs or that of the enemy, Arya cannot tell. "No, no, no!"