AN: Just a quick note before the next chapter begins. HI! I'm back! And I'm sooo insanely sorry that it has taken me so long to get another chapter out! I've had all sorts going on since I started this as a one-shot. I had a second chapter all done and then before I had a chance to upload and get started on the next, I had a baby! Life is just starting to get back on track, which means more time for writing I will try as hard as I can to get chapters to you, but I now have a four year old child and a 6 week old baby to contend with so hopefully you can appreciate that real life comes first.

On a different topic, to any readers who aren't too thrilled with the smutty parts of a story I apologise because after reading over my work again and editing slightly I realised that with this chapter included AGIAS has a fair amount of lemons bouncing around. I promise the whole story will not be like this, the next couple of chapters in particular are going to be more Arya figuring some stuff out on her own than Arya/Gendry sexy times, though to those readers that actually really like the mushy stuff, fear not the romance will continue!

With that said, let the show go on…

Noodle xx

Arya drifted in and out of sleep until the sun started to peek through the window. She abandoned the bed and began to get ready for the day, itching to set out on the road. Her dream didn't scare her this time, it made her determined. Whatever her mind was trying to tell her, it pleased her to see Frey men being slaughtered so easily.

When Gendry woke he was greeted by a very pleasant sight. Arya was stood at the foot of the bed facing away from him, in nothing but a skin-tight pair of riding trousers. He watched her bend at the waist, gathering her blouse from the chair in front of her, and blew out a long breath through his lips. She turned suddenly allowing him the view of her bare chest.

"Are you okay?" she asked, he must have been staring for too long because he looked up to find her watching him like he had grown a second head.

He blew out another breath, "I'm as fine as your arse in those trousers." Gendry hadn't meant to say it, but his bluntness caused her to laugh loudly. He smiled back, watching her so carefree and happy for once. "You seem in better spirits today."

"I had a good night." She replied, still smiling.

Arya and Gendry finished dressing quickly (mainly so Gendry didn't get distracted), gathered up some foods supplies, and collected their horses from the stable. They were on the move before the sun had fully reached the sky.

They had decided it was best to stay to the coast until they hit Wickendon, a small town on the northern edge of the Bay of Crabs. From there, they would travel north-west for a couple of days until they reached the Crossroads Inn.

"We need to stay as far from the Eyrie as possible, I don't want to risk Littlefinger finding out I'm alive just yet." Arya said; she wanted them to get to Winterfell with as little trouble as possible. She wouldn't be any help to her family dead.

By travelling fairly light, they moved quickly across the coast, only stopping to rest themselves and the horses. They didn't come across many people traveling off-road, but when they did they were careful to keep their heads down. Arya and Gendry reached Wickendon in a little under a week and only stayed for one night, to give themselves a good meal and a decent nights sleep. They were on their way again by sun-up the next morning.

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It took them a few short days to reach the Crossroads Inn, and Arya was glad for the chance to have a bath. Winter may be coming, but the South's sweltering heat was still ruling over the midlands. She and Gendry were wet with sweat by the time they settled into a huge brass tub, her back resting against his chest and her behind wedged between his legs. She had come to realise just how insatiable Gendry really was. She could scarcely afford to bend over in front of him for fear of being mounted then and there. They had spent almost every evening on the road in each other's arms - part of the reason they were so in need of a bath. Even now, she could feel his hands wandering over her back, sinking a little too low below the water, as he 'washed' her. His palms drifted from the nape of her neck to the small of her back and over her ribs and hips.

Gendry couldn't get enough of her. His hands had a mind of their own, they couldn't be separated from her luscious flesh, they only wanted to touch her. He pushed his arms around her ribs to her front and over her belly. He felt the muscles there tense under his touch, and saw the little hairs on her arms spike up. She was waiting, expecting his hand to dip low between her legs. He could even see her knees twitch like they wanted to be spread wide open for him. It made his cock spring to life, prodding her in her behind. A small groan slipped from her lips at the feel of him, huge and ready.

"Stand." he grunted in her ear, his dominance clear in his voice. No matter how much she bossed him around or stood independently in the day-to-day, he was in control in the bedroom - or the bath. She pushed herself up gracefully, and he followed. He picked up the small block of soap on his way up and rubbed it between his hands to form a lather.

"Turn." he said and she turned steadily to face him, glancing up into his eyes. He dropped the block into the water and placed his soapy hands on her, gliding them over her shoulders and arms. He rubbed the soap into her and moved on to her chest. His hands grasped her around the neck briefly, and spread out to the top of her breasts. He slowed then, running his palms down and over her ample bosom. He heard her breath hitch slightly as his fingers drifted past her nipples, so he did it again, and her eyes drifted shut. The third time, he grasped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs going to tweak her nipples into peaks. He drifted lower, rubbing his fingertips into the soft flesh of her stomach. It was when his hands drifted to rest on her hips that he stopped. Her eyes snapped open, searching out his own. He turned her by her hips until she faced forward again, and used one hand to sweep her wet hair over her shoulder. He rubbed his hands together again, lathering up whatever soap there was left, then began cleaning her again, sliding his fingers over her back and shoulders. He pressed his thumbs firmly into the back of her shoulders and the top of her spine, rubbing in circles to release some of the tension she was holding in her neck. She moaned lightly, her head flopping forward. He carried on, rubbing down her back and over her pert arse cheeks. He grabbed one in each hand and gave them a little squeeze, then brushed his fingertips across the tops of her thighs. He halted his wandering hands when he felt her intake of breath. She wanted him, he could tell. He was thoroughly enjoying this; teasing the teaser.

"I need more soap, would you be so kind-?" he said sweetly to her, gesturing to the bottom of the tub in front of her where the block had drifted in the water. She twitched her head slightly, as if she wanted to look at him over her shoulder but thought against it. He knew what she thinking; just as she knew what he wanted.

Arya knew he wanted her bent over, so she gave him exactly that. She separated her feet slightly and bent slowly straight down, her arse still in the air. She could feel him move behind her so she lingered in her 'search' for the soap. She felt him lean back, and heard the gust of air leave his mouth as he watched her, glistening wet and on show for him. She taunted him a little, grasping the soap and running it up the inside of her legs. She rubbed in the foam with the other hand, her fingers roaming around her calves and over her knees. She made a small lather in her hands and passed the soap back into Gendry's hand. It took him a minute to grab it, but when he did she brought her hands back to her thighs along with his attention. She felt his spare hand brush over her behind and she slapped it away gently. She heard the water slosh slightly and him grunt as he pushed himself up on to the side of the bath.

Gendry had a fantastic view of her teasing little body where he sat. He watched her trail her delicate fingers up the inside of her thighs, rubbing the soap in to her skin. She better not do what I think she's going to do, he thought. I won't be able to control myself if she starts stroking that sopping little cunt of hers. Her fingers ran over the apex of her thighs once, then twice, before she dipped one digit between her folds. He watched as it disappeared completely, thrust up inside of her. He almost unravelled at the sight. He was doubly shaken, his body going hot and cold with pure lust, when she pulled her finger back out and added a second, pushing inside herself again. She jerked her hand, thrusting again and again. Gendry had to grip the side of the bath to stop himself from grabbing her and burying his cock in that sweet pussy. He watched her, his eyes trained on the fingers that were slipping in and out of her with fervour now. He saw her other arm move towards her clit and realised she was no longer just playing his game, giving him a show. She had lost herself in the pleasure. She was rubbing herself in time with the thrust of her fingers. He heard her gasps, every one fuelling his fire. Her breathing sped up, pants slipping through her lips just as frequently as her fingers were pumping between her slender legs. He knew she was near; he had done this to her enough times to notice that the trembling in her thighs and the pink flush covering her skin meant she was climbing to her limit, almost at the point of no return. Her breath stopped, her whole body went as rigid as a statue, yet her fingers carried her on and on. She hit her climax with a shuddering moan, her legs shook so much they buckled beneath her and she dropped down to the water.

He had just enough blood still at his brain to slide back in to the tub. He reached forward and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her still-twitching body. "Seven hells." he whispered next to her ear. She chuckled softly and began to sink into him. Gendry willed his erection to lessen, he knew with a climax like that she would be exhausted and he didn't want to push her past her limits tonight. She was warm, clean and happy. He wanted to tuck her up in to her toasty bed and lay down beside her, watching her drop off into a restful sleep for once. He had noticed since they left Braavos that her sleeping patterns had turned short and stuttering. She was up multiple times in the night, and tossed and turned for a good while before she could settle again. With all the travelling they were doing during the day, she seemed to always be tired. She would begin to nod off in the saddle, and he would be forced to nudge her awake again until she was happy enough with their days' ride to camp for the night. Now they had a chance to sleep in a fairly decent bed he wanted to make sure she would sleep well and long.

Arya had slipped down, her head nearly resting on his lap, and was beginning to drift to sleep so Gendry thought this would be a good time to take her to bed. He stood gently, lifting her into his arms and her eyes fluttered open just as he stepped from the tub to look at him questioningly. He put her on her feet then turned and gathered a towel from near the bath. He wrapped up her from head to toe until she was a petite bundled package and carried her to their bed, slipping her beneath the blankets like a child and kissing her forehead to lull her back to sleep. It was when her eyes had drifted closed again and her breathing had deepened that he whispered, "I love you, Arry." before he could help himself.

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It was a sudden downpour of steaming rain that woke Gendry in the very early hours of the next morning. It pelted the small window of their room. Gendry stared through the glass, the rain beating a rhythm that calmed him to his core. He had always liked the rain, right from being a small boy living in Kings Landing. It was extremely rare in the south so whenever the heavens did open it fascinated him while all the other summer children ran for cover.

Gendry pulled on a thin layer of clothes and crept out of the room, careful not to wake Arya from the most restful sleep she had had in days. When he swung open the heavy wooden door to the inn, a gust of rain swept in, splattering the mud on his boots. He stepped out in to it, savouring the icy droplets on his face as the muggy heat of the day's dawn engulfed him. He stood under the downpour, welcoming it and letting it soak his clothes through to the skin.

He trampled through the mud to an open space behind the building where a wooden cart was stood, its driver leading an old withered horse to a small barn that leaned against the side wall of the inn. He was just turning back to head inside when the stout man emerged from the barn, pushing the gate shut behind him.

It can't be… Gendry watched as the man began pulling crates and boxes from the back of the wagon, heaving them through the rain to an open door that led to the inn's kitchen. He approached gently, trying to make as little noise as he could in the wet dirt, in case his assumptions were wrong. When the man returned to his wagon a second time Gendry got a good look at his face. "Hot Pie." He murmured, scarcely able to believe that the fat little boy he once knew had stayed at the Crossroads Inn all this time. Gendry smiled, wandered over to the wagon and pulled a large box down into his arms.

"Hey, what are you..?" Hot Pie started to admonish him, until his eyes flickered up from the crate into Gendry's face, and widened. "Gendry!"

His smile spread from ear to ear, and he dropped the crate he was carrying to clap Gendry on his shoulder firmly. "I never thought I would see you again! How are you?"

"I'm good. I can't believe you're still here." Gendry replied, looking up to the brown stone building.

"I own it now." Hot Pie straightened to his full height, just a head shorter than himself. "I married the old man's daughter and when he died a year ago he left it to us. She's lovely, Clarisse her name is." His eyes glistened as he spoke of his wife, clearly a man besotted. "Are you staying?"

Gendry nodded, "We got here last night. On our way North."

"We?" Hot Pie looked hopefully. Gendry suddenly thought, should he be telling people that Arya was back in Westeros? He doubted if anybody would care that the bastard son of a dead king was roaming the Riverlands again, but a lost Lady of the North? She could be hunted if people found out she was here, either for money or just to stop her from reaching any family she had left. The Riverlands were her mother's home but that didn't mean that Lannister men weren't lurking in every town from Storm's End to Castle Black.

"Hot Pie!" He followed Hot Pie's gaze over his shoulder to see Arya striding up to them, a smile gracing her face. She swept past him and wrapped their old friend in a bone-crushing hug.

"Arry." His face was a picture, slack-jawed and slightly pink as Arya pulled away still beaming at him. He scanned her up and down once. "You certainly can't pass for a boy anymore." he muttered. Gendry narrowed his eyes at the man, coughing lightly as his friend's eyes roamed up and down Arya's womanly figure once more.

"I mean… you've grown up… we all have… it's just more noticeable on you…because you're a girl….woman!" Hot Pie stammered, glancing back and forth between Gendry's glare and Arya's knowing smile. "You look…. Healthy." He finished.

"You look taller." She replied. "Though no less fat!" She prodded a finger at his rotund belly.

"Oi!" he grumbled, swatting away her hand but still grinning from ear to ear.

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Gendry and Arya rested their tired horses for the day, choosing to catch up on some sleep themselves. When evening rolled around, they trudged down to the crowded inn for a warm meal and some ale. Clarisse, Hot Pie's wife, was a pretty young woman. Petite with yellow hair, she seemed an unlikely match for him but the look of love shone from her face every time she set eyes on her husband. Clarisse was also extremely chatty. She peppered Arya and Gendry with questions, in between filling customers' mugs, about anything and everything that seemed to pop into her head. She also plied them with the latest rumours from all over Westeros which was only partly annoying.

Gendry was on his second bowl of soup when a heavily cloaked man swung open the door to the inn and made his way to the table nearest to them. He was closely followed by two others, all dressed for the road.

"Evening Geralt, how's the forest treating you boys lately?" Clarisse addressed the table as she plonked three mugs down and filled each one to the brim.

Geralt was the eldest man of the group, his beard silver and the hair on his head thinning. The other men were much younger and had similar enough features to suggest they were his sons.

"Not great Clarisse, if I'm honest." He rasped. "Somethin's scarin' the deer away. Tracks say it could be wolves. Robin swears he saw one the other day, only it was huge as a horse." Geralt looked to the young man on his left sceptically. Arya froze with her spoon half way to her mouth, her eyes wide, and twitched her head to the side slightly.

"It was, I'm not makin' it up!" Robin replied.

"I heard that bodies have been found in the woods near The Trident, all torn to pieces." The other man said, taking a large gulp from his mug. "Heard it from an old man we passed on the road when we was coming back from Seagard. He said that some sort of monster was attackin' anyone who went wanderin' through the trees at night."

Arya had paled slightly, her eyes flickering from her bowl in front of her to the door. She slowly lowered her spoon, still listening intently to the men behind her even though they were now telling Clarisse all the gossip they had heard while travelling. She began pushing her chair backwards, muttering an excuse under her breath and headed to the stairs up to the rooms. Gendry watched her go, the skin between his eyebrows puckered in confusion.

Arya hurriedly slammed the door to their room shut behind her and started pacing back and forth over the wooden floor. Her dreams. The men in her dreams had been ripped to shreds; reduced to bones and bloody rags. How was that possible? Was she having some kind of premonition? The fact that she was dreaming about lacerating Frey men with her teeth made her feel equal amounts of concern and exhilaration. Arya was no fool; she could guess who it was that was slaughtering her enemies so savagely.

Nymeria.

She had felt a special bond with her Direwolf companion right from the day her father and brothers had brought the pups back from the woods. However, she had never expected to be dreaming through the eyes of her sister wolf. This otherworldly link between her and Nymeria shouldn't be possible, but now that it was Arya was determined. She needed to find her direwolf. It was difficult to believe that Nymeria had remained in the Riverlands, so close to where they had parted as nothing but babes. Arya wondered if, just like Hot Pie, she had found some reason to stick around.

The sun had only just peeked over the horizon the next day when Arya crept from the back entrance of the inn, Needle strapped to one hip and her saddle bags swung over her shoulder. She liberated her horse from the stables and mounted, digging her heels into the mare's flank and holding on tight as she jettisoned forwards. They fled down the mud road as fast as the horse could manage, kicking up dirt as they went. Leaving Gendry behind had been a difficult decision to make but Arya would be able to move a lot quicker by herself, even through the thick undergrowth of the forest where she would have to travel on foot. She only hoped he would understand that this was a journey she needed to take alone; to regain a little bit of Arya Stark. She was tired of trying to be No One.

She continued on the Kingsroad until midday, and then branched off into the dense trees that lined the side of the road. She jumped down from her horse, needing to trample along by foot through the woods for a while until they parted suddenly on to the edge of a huge swell of water as wide as Kings Landing, from the Red Keep to Fleabottom.

Arya sighed, stepping down to the lake that parting in to three forks. "The Trident." She glanced towards the path of water nearest to her; the Green Fork. If she followed it she would end up at The Twins. Arya's steely glare narrowed as if she was shooting daggers through Walder Frey himself.

"I'm so close, Nymeria." She said to the wind. "A days ride if I tire out the mare, three at most if I take my time. I could avenge them. I could carve out the throat of every Frey inside those walls and get justice for my family." Arya turned her head, trying to stem the thoughts that boiled inside her. She was trying not to get noticed, and killing an entire house was sure to attract attention.

Arya dropped down to her behind, pulled off her boots and sunk her feet into the cool water, the hems of her trousers soaking through. She sat for a while, staring out across the gleaming surface of The Trident, the mid afternoon sun reflected off its surface and the breeze rippled the water, making the mirrored trees shudder as if they too could feel winter approaching. Arya was staring, lost in her own thoughts, not noticing when the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. She shivered, though the nip in the air barely touched her. Her eyes began to blur and she blinked, shaking her head slightly. A cold pain pierced through her skull, and her gaze started to cloud at the edges, like a curtain was being pulled over her vision. Arya's breath hitched, panic settling through her.

"What….?" She breathed, rubbing her eyes with her fist hoping to clear away some of the haze, but it just kept creeping in. Soon, she could barely see the water that whispered around her ankles. She hopped up on to the shore, plunging her hands into the clear pool and splashing it in her face, massaging some over her eyelids. She had been blind before, but this was something else entirely. There was no dark, and no shadows permanently just beyond her reach. Her eyes were filled with a blank white, more dense that the thickest fog she had ever seen. "What is this?"

Arya's hands stuttered over the ground, pushing her body to stand upright. She began to turn, one way then the other, trying to remember where she left her horse and where the forest began. Just as the hysteria washed through her, the white curtain began to fade. The centre of the fog was parting, an image pushing its way through. Her body began to burn, her limbs twitched. She froze, her toes buried in the long grass. The image was getting clearer and clearer, until the fog had almost dissipated.

She saw herself.

A figure stood exactly where she was, arms out from her sides and legs planted far apart. She saw the soggy bottoms of her trousers, and the laces of her tunic hung down near her waist. She saw her dark hair curling at the ends, now grown to past her shoulder blades. She saw her own eyes, once as dark as her hair but now an eerie, pale white. She was moving.

No, that couldn't be possible. But, yes, those were her feet that brushed through swathes of crisp green. Those were her arms that had settled to hang loosely by her hips. That was her body that was moving, heading south of its own accord, but she couldn't feel it. She didn't feel the grass under her soles, or the swish of her thighs gliding past each other as she walked steadily towards a thin river that opened out into the great expanse that was The Trident. She didn't even feel it as her body scaled a large rock on one side of the river, the skin on the tips of her toes scraping on the jagged surface.

However, Arya did notice the ruffling of her hair when she shifted, heading towards her body. It was all very confusing. Arya watched, powerless, as whatever she had become glided towards the opposite side of the river to where her body stood, staring blindly at nothing. She had heard of outer body experiences, but this was unimaginable. She could feel her spirit moving, watching the shell of herself across the water as she stalked low to the floor. She could hear the clicking of claws with every step her spirit took. All her senses were heightened; the rustle and creak of the forest echoed through her head, the sun burned her irises and she could smell the lavender soap from her body as if she had the bar under her nose. She could feel the shifting of dirt beneath her as she reached the river, staring at the carapace across the water.

Arya's body shuddered. Not just the body she was watching so intently, but her soul as well. Her vision flickered, the hair on her neck prickling once again. The image behind her eyes shifted back and forth between herself and a blur of ashen fur and long, strong limbs.

The eyes. They were not hers, but they could have been. They were as dark as night, the pupil unnoticeable.

Arya gasped, breathing erratically as though emerging from the depths of the lake. She was herself again, her own limbs hanging as gangly as they ever had been. A sheen of sweat graced her brow and her head pounded.

Sister.

The word echoed through her thoughts gently, like a wash of cool rain. It was not a harsh demand that pushed through her senses, invading her mind completely like she imaged the link would be. It was a whisper so fragile and soft that it could have come from her own mouth.

Nymeria.

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She had grown. That was Nymeria's first thought. Her sister had grown so beautifully into a strong and courageous woman. She could feel it. The link between then was strengthening the closer they were to one another. She had dreamt of this day for years. She wished she could weep and scream and laugh all at the same time.

Nymeria tipped back her head to the sky and let out an almighty howl that shook the trees around, their leaves still trembling even as her cry faded. When she looked back, Arya was staring at her as if she were a ghost.

Slowly, Nymeria padded across stones just below the water's surface until she reached her kin. Just as her paws hit solid ground, Arya broke free from her stupor. Her split in two with the most mesmerizing smile the wolf had ever seen. She bounded the last few paces, her eyes never breaking contact with her sister. The cracks in her heart that had lingered since the day Arya had sent her away finally healed when she was wrapped in a crushing embrace. This was what she had been waiting for. She had stayed put for all this time in the hope that they would meet again, and now her wish was finally coming true. Though they may have parted as nought but babes, their bond had never diminished.

Love. Arya's whisper resounded in her mind.

Nymeria was home.

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Gendry was steaming. He was fuming. Well, actually he was worried out of his mind. But he might as well have been fuming because being worried made him feel angry. Anger was easier to deal with than the thought that Arya had run away from him as fast as should the second they reached the Kingsroad. She had left him a note. Not a letter; a fucking note.

Gendry,

I will meet you at the Northern Border in two weeks' time. Don't hate me, there is something I must do and I must do it alone. You will understand in two weeks.

Arya.

That was it. That was all she had written.

He could never hate her, but right now he was having a hard time liking her. Though without any other option, he started to pack up his things and made his way down to the tavern to bid farewell to Hot Pie.

"You're leaving already?" Hot Pie said, his face downcast. "You only just got here."

Gendry felt guilty. Just more fuel to add to the tongue-lashing he would be giving Arya in two weeks. Though after two weeks, first he would yell then he would be giving her a different kind of tongue-lashing.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm sorry it's just Arya needed to go somewhere pretty urgently and she asked me to meet her further along the road so I had best get going or she will yell at me for being late." He replied, trying his best to reassure his friend with a forced smile and an awkward chuckle.

Hot Pie didn't buy it. If anything, his face slipped even further into a morose expression.

"Don't worry, we will see each other again my friend." Gendry clapped his portly friend on the shoulder hard, making him buckle sideways slightly.

Hot Pie mustered up a parting smile, and Gendry gathered his horse and set off on his journey, still sullen and moody.

Two weeks later, in the dead of night, Gendry waited by the waystone that marked the border between the Riverlands and The North. He had arrived two days ago and had no choice but to wait for Arya. He had considered riding ahead, just to spite her, but decided against it when he realised he had never been this far North, and he had no knowledge of what the rest of the journey held. As a child, Gendry had heard from the mad old spinster who ran the orphanage in Fleabottom that Northerners were wild creatures that invited wolves into their homes and each man could ravage a wild boar before it was even cooked. They were 'more wildling than westerosi' she had said. He was in no doubt that Arya was wilder than any southern man or woman he had ever met, and she was a lady! Truth be told, he was a little apprehensive about travelling so far into unfamiliar territory. If he was really honest with himself, he would have used the word petrified.

Gendry was lost in his own thoughts. So much so that he hadn't noticed two sets of midnight dark eyes glaring out at him from between the dense forest lining to his left. If he was paying attention, he would have heard the light crunch of a leaf under the sole of a boot. What he did notice, was the drip drip drip of blood running down a Needle.