Chapter 16: Tied Together

Winterfell

There was something about the Weirwood trees that always unnerved Catelyn. When Catelyn had been heavy with Robb, she had come here to pray. That was the first time she had felt warmth in her blood before the tree. Her children may be Northerner in birth but she had always wanted them to worship the Seven as well, and that day Catelyn had felt that even if they didn't, the Old Gods would protect them. Her children belonged to the North and the Old Gods in the way she never did.

Here she found herself again, kneeling in front of the heart tree. The eyes of the Weirwood face latched themselves onto her, and the chill around her was forgotten as Catelyn closed her eyes, agony pooling inside her heart.

"Keep my child safe. I beg you." The winds blew away her breath, and she wondered if her prayers were even heard by the Gods. She heard a wolf howl far away, and knit her fingers together tightly, feeling the icy touch of the wedding band on her finger. The face of her little daughter flashed in front of her eyes.

"Lady Catelyn?"

She recognized the voice of Asha. She didn't find the need to turn, not pleased with being disturbed during her prayer. She heard the woman approach and opened her eyes. Asha's footsteps were almost inaudible because of the howling wind in Catelyn's ears. She kneeled beside her, and her clothes reminded Catelyn of the ones Arya wore.

"You follow the Seven, don't you?" Asha asked.

"I do," Catelyn answered, then after a while added, "My children worship both the Old Gods and the Seven."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry for your daughter. I lost my family too. I know how you feel."

"Arya is not dead like your family," Catelyn said sternly, refusing to listen to any possibility of that kind.

"I did not mean that," Asha said, her voice harder than before. "I wish Arya returns home safely. I have no reason to wish harm for your daughter. However, your daughter is in the hands of an enemy. You should think of a way to rescue her rather than spend time praying to the Gods. I know mine never listened to me."

Catelyn met Maester Luwin on the way back to the castle, Asha's words still ringing in her ears. She pushed her thoughts aside and looked at the Maester. The old man was shivering despite the heavy cloak around his shoulders shielding his body from the cold. He handed her a letter.

"From Lord Robb, Lady Stark."

Catelyn opened the letter and the contents made a small smile visible at the corner of her mouth.

I will be home soon.

Robb

All she wanted for now was to have all of her children within her reach and to keep them safe. She sighed thinking about Arya. A skinny little thing she was, but always high-spirited. Half-horse they called her in Winterfell; she was one of the fastest riders, even surpassing Robb. Catelyn felt a tear hit her cheek, the drop freezing instantly on her skin. She had never encouraged Arya to leave King's Landing and cone back home to Winterfell, hoping she would catch some Lord's eye, but she would never have let her leave the North if she had known that this would be the consequence of it.

The news of Robb's return was somewhat a balm to the wound.

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

With her husband gone, Winterfell needed a Lord, and it was time for Robb to see to his duties. He had written earlier once stating the possibility of bringing Arianne with him, but it seemed now he was coming alone. She prayed again to the Gods - she wouldn't care which ones would hear her - to keep her daughter safe. The thought of anyone hurting her made Catelyn weary and anxious. Her heart whispered to her that Robert would never hurt a girl, but the Robert she knew wouldn't have attempted an abduction. It was still a mystery to her how people could change so drastically in the span of mere years. Revenge made men do terrible things. She only hoped there was something of the old Robert left in the man, the one who was Ned's friend and never had anything but a kind word to say to her.

The Narrow Sea

Onboard the Iron Victory, Victarion glanced into the horizon. The sun shone brightly above him, covering everything it touched with skin-tingling warmth. This weather didn't suit him, but he had never been one unable to adapt.

The shouts of the crew could be heard clearly, but Victarion's mind was occupied by something else.

My family is dead.

As far as he knew, his brother and his nephews were dead. Asha was apparently safe in Winterfell, but he doubted any Greyjoy would ever be anything akin to that in the North. His regret was deep about not being near Pyke during the siege. All that he knew was that it was the work of the Baratheons. His fleet would have outnumbered Stannis' by enough, but if his brother wasn't able to ward them off, there must have been too many of them. His frustration grew as well due to his inability to fathom the reasons for such actions by the Baratheons.

All he needed was a plan now. He needed to avenge the death of his family, and more than that, he needed to take the seat at Pyke. The enemies needed to be driven away from the Iron Islands. No one but a Greyjoy must rule the place, and Victarion vowed he would be the one to succeed his brother. Asha might be Balon's daughter, still she was but a woman, and that only left him. He refused to think of the other possibility.

Storm's End

Gendry's hands were still sooty when the servant entered the smithy and told him his Father wanted Gendry to join him for dinner. He cleaned his hands and wiped the sweat from his face, neck and arms with a cloth. He entered the hall and saw his Father sitting beside Lord Stannis. The latter's wife had died a day ago while giving birth to a babe. Gendry's cousin, but he suspected he wouldn't ever be able to call her that.

"Son," Robert called him. "Come sit."

He caught Stannis eyeing him with a frown, but he ignored him, like he always did. His uncle wasn't fond of him at all, and he strongly opposed Robert's decision to declare Gendry as his son to the entirety of the castle. But Stannis never voiced his opinion out loud for too long, and Gendry always felt as if he was being judged at every move by the Lord of Storm's End.

Gendry took his seat, his face as usual revealing nothing about what he was thinking. He didn't dine with his Father regularly, and only when Robert wanted him to. Gendry didn't have a taste for rich foods, but he did appreciate his current station. If he hadn't accepted Robert's offer, he still would have been working in some lesser-known smithy, or worse, been roaming the streets of Flea Bottom.

A grunt caught his ears and he turned, his eyes instantly fixing on the person who entered the hall. The Stark girl was being pushed by a guard, none too gently, towards the table. Her eyes fixed on his for the briefest of seconds and something dark passed over her eyes, her lips instantly twitching. She straightened and glancing at the other two men at the table, took a few steps forward. Gendry noticed her hands weren't tied, but the guard was holding them behind her back. His grip wasn't harsh, but he could see red marks on her exposed wrists. He guessed she got them from struggling too much against her binds during their journey to the Stormlands.

He noticed the change in her clothes. The worn out dress she had been wearing was now replaced by a green one. Her hair had been combed and was now falling in heavy, dark curls around her shoulders. She looked a Lady in every sense of the word, the only exception being the frown on her face and her harsh, cold stare.

Robert smiled at her, and waved the guard to leave. Once her hands were free, she brought them to her front. Gendry noticed her rubbing her wrists lightly, careful not to let anyone notice.

"Please sit, My Lady," Robert said. "You must be hungry. I heard you didn't partake in your breakfast."

"You heard right," she replied calmly. "Although, My Lord, you should be careful about sending knives with the food." She leaned close to him. "It would take one second for me to hid one in my sleeve and another to push it right through your eye. It would be quite a scandal, won't it? Robert Baratheon dead at the hands of a girl. The man who had claimed to defeat Rhaegar Targaryen and take the Iron Throne for himself."

The smile disappeared from Robert's face, and Lady Stark looked pleased.

Suddenly, Robert caught her by the arm and pulled her roughly.

"You know I can kill you right now and no one can do or say anything!"

Gendry saw Stannis rise from the corner of his eye and he too became cautious.

"You would have done that already if you could, My Lord."

"You cunt! I will-"

"Enough!" Stannis roared. He pulled Robert away from her and turned to Gendry. "Take her to her room. I'll tell someone to send the food."

Gendry rose and nodded. He took her hand, careful not to put pressure on her wrists, and pulled her to her room. The girl walked steadily, amused by the angry outburst of his Father. When he reached her room, Gendry pushed her inside, and let go off her hand. Her smile faded and she looked him in the eye. Gendry noticed for the first time the paleness of her skin, and the redness of her lips. Maybe he hadn't looked too closely at her earlier. He knew now why the Prince wanted her. She was quite pretty and-

Stop.

He cleared his throat.

"Do your wrists hurt?" He asked, as stoicly as possible.

Arya narrowed her eyes.

"Even if they do, do you think I'll tell you?"

He huffed in annoyance and turned his back to her.

"Forgive me if I thought you needed help."

"I will rather rot in the Seven hells than take your help, you bastard!" She spat.

Gendry clenched his fist in frustration. He wanted to shake her and tell her that her antics would get her nowhere. They would only result in making his Father mad.

Stubborn girl.

"You are stuck here, whether you like it or not. No one is letting you get out of here. So stop being so bloody reckless about everything."

"I don't need your fucking advice," she said stiffly. "And I am getting out of here. You have no idea what you're messing with, Gendry."

Gendry didn't say anything and left the room quietly. No one had ever uttered his name in so much hatred as she did now, or maybe someone did, but it hadn't ever made him flinch.

Do what you have to do.

He saw the rain fall in heavy and swift droplets outside. A storm was brewing; nothing unusual for this place, but spending most of his life in Flea Bottom, he was still not used to the frequent rain. The clouds hovered dangerously over the horizon, promising continuous rainfall for at least a couple of days more.

Thunder and lightning were the consequences of the actions by which men anger the Gods, his Mother used to say. Gendry didn't believe in Gods and the larger part of the story was nothing but a vague memory now. But he knew that right now, there were more reasons for the Gods to be angry about than he could count on one hand.

King's Landing

Waking up before sunrise had now became a habit for Jon. Arya and he had practiced almost everyday since the night she had told him that she loved him. Arya had improved greatly in sword fighting, although she had been able to defeat him but a few times. Jon tried to let her win some times, but she always seemed to find out everytime he tried to lose.

Jon tried to concentrate at the task at hand, his sword swinging and slashing through thin air. Men started occupying the grounds, the silence shattering and being occupied by talking and laughing.

"Your Highness."

Jon stilled his muscles and turned his eyes to look at the servant bowing before him.

"What?" He asked, his voice low.

"Prince Aegon wants to speak to you. He says it's important. He wants you to meet him near the gardens."

Jon sighed deeply and sheathed his sword.

Aegon was gazing out to the open water when Jon arrived. Jon noticed his somber expression, taking it as a result of the unwanted events.

"Egg?"

Aegon turned, his hair swaying with the wind. His lilac eyes had turned dark purple, something that happened when he thought too hard or was tensed.

Aegon smiled lightly. "Thanks for coming. I thought the matter too sensitive to take the risk of speaking about it while other people were around."

"What is it?" Jon asked, curiosity flooding his mind.

"I am rather surprised you haven't thought of rescuing Arya," Aegon said, suddenly changing the subject. Jon slouched his shoulders.

"I have been making plans. There are some things needed to be done first," Jon replied.

"Forget whatever you've been thinking," he said, waving his hand in the air. "I talked to Varys. We'll send a few men to the Stormlands, preferably disguising as traders. One of them will get inside the castle and make note of the number of men in Robert's army, and if luck in on our side, he can even meet Arya and make sure she's safe."

"So they aren't going to rescue her?" Jon asked, surprised.

"No, not at this time. First, we need to know about the place she's kept in, and then we can attack them."

"I don't trust Varys," Jon said.

"Varys is loyal to me, Jon. He knows the importance of getting Arya back, unlike our Father."

Rhaegar had found it quite dangerous to let anyone go to rescue Arya. He thought it would be too great a risk, and if Robert found out, he might hurt Arya more. He was right in being alert, but some risks are meant to be taken.

"I don't trust him," Jon repeated. "He is more loyal to the King than anyone else."

"Jon, please." Aegon sighed. "This is the only option left. There are but a few men who would keep quiet, and you know Varys can help with that. We cannot let Father hear of this."

Jon clenched his fist.

"I'll go with them," he replied after a while.

"No." Aegon's eyes were hard. "You cannot go."

"What I can't do," Jon said gravely, "is sit here while she is surrounded by our enemies. Right now, the only people I trust for her safety are you and me."

"And I trust Varys," Aegon argued. "Right now, he is the only choice we have and we have to make do with what we got. But I cannot let you go. If they discover you, we will lose the war and more importantly Arya." Aegon held his brother at arm's length. "Don't risk this."

"No one will know, Egg. I will leave unnoticed and-"

"No, Jon!" Aegon almost shouted. "We have to do everything from here. You cannot go."

Jon pressed his fingers on his temple, his lips thinning into a hard line.

"I just want her safe and away from that place. It's all my fault, Aegon. I knew something was not right when I let her go. I felt it in my bones but I still didn't do anything."

"No one could have possibly known," Aegon assured him. "We are all at fault here. Everyone should have been careful. You cannot blame yourself."

Aegon straightened and added, "Once I reach Dragonstone, I'll make further plans. The men will leave tomorrow night, four of them. They have orders to go directly to Dragonstone from Storm's End. I will do everything in my power, Jon. I promise."

"But my hands are tied."

"You can help me." Aegon turned to Jon. "Keep Father distracted and don't let hin dwell too much on me. The lesser he knows of anything, the better."

Jon nodded his head. "Mace Tyrell is leaving for Highgarden," he said.

Aegon raised his eyebrow. "Father let him?" His surprise wasn't as much as Jon had expected. Perhaps Aegon had already accepted their Father's habit of making foolish decisions.

"Margaery and Loras are staying. They may be some kind of leverage Father thinks he has against him. He thinks Lord Tyrell cannot possibly do anything rebellious while his two children are in the Crown's custody."

"I think so as well. Will he dare risk his children? Two of them at that?"

"He actually might not," Jon agreed.

Aegon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I must go and see Sansa," he said. "She was devastated and angry after I told her I'm leaving. We haven't spoken since last evening."

He walked back to the castle, leaving Jon alone to dwell on the facts and circumstances. A rush of air blew away his hair away from his face, humming beside his ears.

Four men. Varys' men.

How could he trust four men he barely knew and let them go to Storm's End and potentially risk Arya's life? If anyone found out they were sent from King's Landing, they would be beheaded immediately and Arya will have to suffer the consequences, being the only important person within the Baratheons' reach.

Jon had never trusted the eunuch, but he had to admit the Master of Whisperers had a strange sense of allegiance to his brother. He was one of the people who want to see Aegon on the Iron Throne even after his absolute rejection of it. It wasn't the main motive for his distrust of Varys, though. Jon would give up any Throne for his brother, but Varys was too cunning a man for him to trust.

But perhaps he needed to have confidence in his brother on this one. He wanted to go, instead of staying here and waiting for someone else to deliver news of her. Maybe he could sneak out without anyone noticing. Aegon would be gone long before the men leave anyway.

I have to do something.

0-0-0-0-0

"Sansa please, just look at me."

She clutched the sheets in her fists, sobbing quietly. Her back was to him and she was sitting in her bed. Aegon stood near the door. She had averted her eyes away as soon as he entered her room; partly because she was still angry with him, and partly because she didn't want him to look at her red and swollen eyes.

"For Gods' sake Sansa, what do you want me to do?"

Another sob escaped her when she opened her mouth to speak.

"You can start by not going anywhere and staying with me," she said, turning her face to him. Aegon's eyes softened when he saw her, and he took a few steps towards her.

"You know I have to," he argued.

"No one can make you do anything, Aegon. If you don't want to go, then don't."

Sansa felt her heart clenched when he stood in front of her and looked at her sadly, his purple eyes darkening.

"I don't want to leave you, but there are things I must do, and I can't do them here."

"So you're willing to leave me all alone here?" Sansa asked stubbornly. Her words weren't justified even to her and her mind wasn't working properly.

"Look, Sansa." Aegon took a seat beside her and tilted her chin up using his forefinger. Sansa looked at him, barely keeping herself from crying all over again.

"I have to go to Dragonstone. I have made some plans to rescue Arya. I have to leave to be able to put them into action," he added.

"So you care more about Arya than me?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and her eyes immediately widened, realizing what she had just said about her sister. The sister she loved and the sister who was in so much danger right now.

Aegon stilled and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you saying? Are yo-"

Sansa crushed herself onto his chest, cutting his words off midway. Her resolve broke and she cried freely. She felt Aegon's hand on her back and his breath against her temple.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do. Please, don't leave me alone here. Arya's gone and now you will be gone too."

"No." He leaned back and held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. Her blood felt warm just from his touch. She didn't know how she could stand to be so many miles away from him.

"You are not alone, Sansa. Jon is here, Queen Lyanna is here, and soon your Father will be here too. You won't be alone."

"But I will be lonely," she stated. Her hand reached out to touch his face, her fingers tracing his jaw, his cheeks, his lips. "I am going to miss you so much."

"Every moment of every day, I'll miss you," he said.

Sansa pressed her lips to his, her arms wrapping around his torso in a tight embrace. She would miss that too, she realized. Holding him and kissing him and making love to him.

Aegon pushed her back onto the bed, and kept kissing her, his hands pushing her hair away from her face.

Sansa closed her eyes shut as Aegon softly kissed her brow and then bringing his head downwards, dipped it in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. His arms reached back and started undoing the laces of her dress.

"Aegon," she purred, arching her back and giving him access to take the dress off her. Aegon complied swiftly, his fingers making quick work of sliding the garment away from her shoulders. Her hand traced every part of his body, scared by the thought that she would forget how he felt beneath her fingers. Both of them were lost in caresses and kisses and moans and whispered consolations. Her tears may have stopped spilling but Sansa felt how heavy her heart was. She would be a fool not to notice that Aegon was feeling the same, but he seemed to be hiding it well.

By the time both of them were naked, the room was bright with the warm hues of the afternoon. They had never made love during the day. Their escapades were always in the night, when most of the castle was asleep and they could sneak anywhere without anyone noticing. The only light around them had been that of the candles, but now they were bathed in the afternoon glow, both of their eyes shining and glistening, reflecting the love that was so great that it couldn't be expressed just with their words.

Aegon pushed himself inside her, his eyes shutting close and his lips parting to breathe harshly. He whispered her name softly and pulled her to crash against his chest, denying even the air to come between them.

Sansa whimpered in pleasure, her legs around his waist urging him to go deeper inside her.

"Look at me," Aegon breathed raspily. "Open your eyes."

Sansa struggled, but kept her eyes fixed on him. Suddenly, his hands wrapped around her harshly and he groaned, pushing his tongue inside her mouth. Sansa reached her peak, her whole body arching and her cry was swallowed by Aegon's mouth. Her high triggered his, and his body stilled as his seed entered her body. Both of them fell back on the bed with a thud, their breathing loud and urgent.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, kissing her earlobe.

Sansa barely had the energy to breathe, but she panted out softly,

"I-I love y-you, Aegon. Come back to me. P-Please."

"I will, sweet one," he promised her. "Where else can I go but come home to you?"

"I love you," she said again, her words this time more coherent.

Aegon kissed her lips again, then pulled the covers over them. Sansa didn't let go of his arm. She wanted him to stay, and she didn't have to ask. As if reading her mind, he placed himself behind her, his body spooning hers.

"Can I stay?" He asked against her neck.

"You don't have to ask," she whispered. Her fingers entwined with his which were placed over her stomach. Sansa pressed her body back against him, feeling his warmth. She felt like crying again, but kept the tears at bay. She just wanted to remember this moment like this, wrapped up in his arms, instead of the memory being blurred by tears.

They stayed like that most of the day, until they knew they couldn't anymore. He left her arms reluctantly, and kissed her again, the last one most likely till he returned.

The next day he was gone even before she woke up in the morning, and Sansa had never felt as alone in her life as she did then.

A/N: Sorry for being late in updating, but at least I got it out. I will be uber busy the next week so I wrote the ending quickly.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for reading. Also thanks for the follows. They are over a 100 now. Thanks a lot. :)

Music:

Always Take You Back (Night Terrors Of 1927)

Don't Worry About Me (Frances)