Gendry's few belongings were shoved into a pack over the next day. Mott had said he must leave within the week - but Gendry came to his own conclusion that the sooner he got out of King's Landing, the better.

"I'll leave under cover of night," he told Mott that morning.

"Smart," Mott agreed. "Where will you go?"

Gendry shrugged.

"The North might be a safe bet," Mott said. "Winter is coming. You won't get chased far North."

"Yes, but the North has the Boltons skinning people alive," Gendry pointed out.

Mott shook his head. "I hear things from some of the higher borns who come through here. They say Sansa Stark has returned to Winterfell - and her older brother Jon Snow has been named Lord of Winterfell and King in the North."

"The Starks have the North again?" Arya, Gendry silently added to himself.

"From what I hear. The North was a safe place with them ruling."

I could go to Winterfell, Gendry found himself thinking. No, that was a stupid dream. Arya wasn't there - and he could hardly turn up at the gates of Winterfell and proclaim that he had abandoned a Stark.

"I'll find somewhere to go," Gendry reassured Mott. "I just need to get out of here."

Mott had left Gendry in charge of the forge that afternoon. Business had finally slowed to a halt, and Mott had headed for the door saying how badly he was in need of an ale.

Gendry busied himself tidying up the forge as best he could, his nerves on edge. In a few hours he would head out of King's Landing. Both how and where, he did not know. He knew at the back of his mind that he wanted to find Arya - but he could not do that or focus on that until he was out of danger's way.

A rap at the door broke Gendry away from his thoughts. It sounded almost metallic, as though a sword had been hit against the door.

He peered out of the window, and saw a figure huddled in a grey cloak, a sword clutched in their left hand, partially hidden by the cloak.

Gendry swallowed, and opened the door halfway.

"I need your help," the figure whispered. His voice sounded highborn.

"What can I do for you, ser," Gendry replied, looking at his feet. If this man was highborn, then he could potentially be a danger to Gendry's safety. But to turn him away would arouse yet more suspicion.

"I need your promise that this will be done in the upmost confidence."

"You have my word, ser."

"May I come in?"

Gendry opened the door wider for the man, bolting it up behind him.

He turned around to find the man had pulled the hood of his cloak aside - and Ser Jaime Lannister was stood in his forge.

Panic swelled in his chest. This man was a member of the family who had killed other children of Gendry's blood. By putting off leaving until nightfall for safety, Gendry realised that, ironically, he was now in more danger than he had ever been in in his life.

"As I said," Ser Jaime said quietly, "I need your word that nobody will know I was here."

"You have my word, m'lord," Gendry replied.

The boy's a Baratheon, Jaime noticed immediately. He could see Robert's look stamped across the boy's face. How had Cersei let this boy survive, when she had gone as far as to murder babies to secure her children's name?

He's a Baratheon and he knows it. The boy was desperately avoiding eye contact, and looked like he would rather be anywhere on earth than here right now.

Jaime held out Widow's Wail. "Here," he said. "I need this sharpened, polished, tidied up." He swallowed. "It's Valyrian steel."

The boy's eyes shot up, and Jaime met the bright blueness of them with what he hoped was a warm look.

"Yes, m'lord," the boy muttered, awkwardly taking Widow's Wail over to the counter at the side of the forge.

"It's alright. I'm not here to hurt you," Jaime said in a tone he hoped was reassuring.

"M'lord?"

"Don't play stupid. You're one of Robert Baratheon's bastards."

The boy didn't reply, and busied himself lightly tapping the edges of the sword with a hammer.

"What do they call you?"

"Gendry, m'lord," the boy replied after a pause.

"And how long have you been in King's Landing, Gendry? I wonder how my sister missed you." Jaime cursed himself in his head. Even now, when he wanted nothing more to do with Cersei, he found himself making jokes for her at the expense of others.

"I wasn't here for a few years," Gendry admitted. "Got sold to the Watch, but your men killed the people taking us there."

Jaime saw the Gendry immediately curse after saying that, and he laughed to himself at how the boy seemed concerned he had caused offence.

"I wonder why you would come back to a place like this."

"Had nowhere else to go, m'lord."

There were a few moments of silence except for Gendry working away at the sword.

"I would wager you haven't seen many Valyrian steel swords here."

"No, m'lord. I wonder - no."

Jaime looked at the boy. "It's alright. As I said, I'm not here to hurt you. Ask anything you want. You're doing me a favour promising nobody will know how I'm here."

"I just wonder - is it a family heirloom, m'lord? There aren't many swords of Valyrian steel in the world anymore. M'lord," he added hastily.

"In a sense. It was my nephew's. But it was reforged from Lord Eddard Stark's sword after he died," Jaime admitted.

At the mention of 'Stark', Jaime noticed that Gendry paused in his hammering, and a wave of pain seemed to shudder across his face. The boy swallowed and then continued, albeit slightly more shakily than before.

"You don't approve of what happened to Lord Stark?"

"I - it's not my place to say, m'lord."

Jaime sighed. "If it's any consolation, neither do I anymore. What came of the Starks has come to be a terrible business."

Gendry looked up at Jaime, and there was hatred etched across his face that Jaime couldn't comprehend. Why did this lowborn boy seem to care so much about the Starks?

"My Master told me Jon Snow is now King in the North. He and Sansa Stark reclaimed Winterfell," Gendry said with an angry edge to his voice that Jaime could not comprehend. Jaime noted that 'm'lord' had been omitted. Something about the Starks clearly got this boy on edge.

"Well, that's bad for my House. But no longer for me to deal with," Jaime shrugged.

"M'lord?"

"Look, lad, the reason I'm here instead of at the Red Keep forge is because I'm leaving King's Landing. What my sister has done here is unforgiveable. And I swore a vow. To return the Stark girls to their mother, many years ago," Jaime wasn't sure what made him feel he could talk to this boy. But he knew, unswervingly, that he trusted him. "Lady Stark died before I could fulfil that promise. I know, Starks and Lannisters are enemies," he smiled, noting how Gendry's mouth was slightly open in shock. "But that's all changed now. I cannot stay here and support a Queen who burns innocent people to the ground. I must protect Sansa Stark, and fulfil my oath to a dead woman."

"What about Arya Stark?" Gendry said the words so fast he almost babbled them.

"Arya Stark? Nobody's heard from her in years. My bet would be she died in King's Landing five years ago."

"You're wrong." Gendry babbled it out again, then looked like somebody had smacked him across the face. He hurriedly got back to sharpening the sword edge.

"Pardon?" Jaime said slowly.

"Nothing, m'lord."

"You knew Arya Stark? She still lives?"

Gendry's jaw was grinding.

"I've already promised I won't hurt you. I will keep that promise. Tell me. This is important."

"I don't know. I was with her. Then we got torn apart. But that was three years ago now. I was meant to keep her safe." A wave of pain washed over Gendry's face, and Jaime heard him sniff as he carried on cleaning the sword.

Jaime dithered on the spot. "Come with me," he said hurriedly.

"M'lord?" Gendry's eyes widended.

"I plan to head to Winterfell. If you are loyal to Arya Stark, come with me. You cannot stay here. If she is still out there, we will find her."

"How can I trust you," the boy almost spat out. "So many lords and ladies have tried to 'help' me. And they've abandoned me and used me. You don't see us lowborn people as real people, do you?"

"I do," Jaime said quietly. "I have done some terrible things in my life. It has taken me too long to see people on level footing. And for that I can only apologise and feel ashamed. But this is me trying to make amends."

Gendry was almost finished with the sword, and was carefully tying the scabbard back into the sword belt.

"If you knew Arya Stark, come with me. You want to find her again?"

Gendry's eyes were filled with pain. Jaime didn't wait for him to reply - he could see the answer as clear as day in the boy's eyes.

"Ironically, being in the company of a Lannister is probably one of the safest places for you," Jaime reached for Widow's Wail. "I vowed to return the Stark girls to their mother - to their home. I see that as stretching to protect those who care for them."

The boy ducked down for a pack under the counter. "I know how to work a sword. If you betray me, I'm not going to take it lying down this time."

Jaime chuckled, pulling his cloak back on. "Gendry, from what I know of Arya Stark, I can understand why you two got along."

—

Winterfell was finally just in front of them.

Lady Brienne of Tarth felt relief wash over her. As her and Podrick Payne had journeyed North, they had heard many stories of Jon Snow being crowned King in the North. From a distance, she could see the Direwolf banners of House Stark hanging on Winterfell once more.

Brienne thought as to how Lady Catelyn would have felt, knowing one of her beloved daughters was safely in those walls. She knew Lady Catelyn had a history of hatred for the bastard Jon Snow - but surely even she would have recognised that Jon was the best protector of Sansa there could be now.

"M'lady? Are you alright?" Pod asked.

"Yes, Pod. I am relieved that Lady Sansa has her ancestral home back."

The gates of Winterfell opened to them, and Brienne saw Lady Sansa rushing towards them before they had even had a chance to dismount.

"I am sorry, my lady," Brienne said, head bowed. "I am sorry I could not secure the Tully army to assist you in battle."

"It's alright. We are safe. That's all that matters." Sansa gave a small smile. "I've had two bedrooms made up for you. House Stark requests that you two remain as part of the household."

Pod bowed his head. "You honour us, Lady Sansa."

"You returned me to my brother. To my home. Winterfell is a home to you both. Now and always. I hope you know that."

"Thank you, my lady. That is most kind of you," Brienne clutched at Oathkeeper, as she always did in moments of emotion.

"There is hot food in the kitchen. I imagine you will want some after your journey."

—

"I can manage by myself," Arya said grumpily.

"Aye, course you can. You lived a whole 2 years after you left me! But you need another person with you, girl."

"Why?"

Sandor Clegane rolled his eyes, dumping his heavy body down on the ground and pulling out a flask of ale. "Because one of us can free your Uncle while the other rescues his wife and child. Too difficult otherwise."

"I don't think you understand. I CAN MANAGE MYSELF."

"And I don't think YOU understand how dangerous the Twins is. Walder Frey killed your family, or do you forget that?"

"I know. I killed him a few days ago."

The Hound spat out his mouthful of ale. "You WHAT girl?"

"I told you. I can manage by myself."

"If Frey is dead, that makes it even more dangerous."

"Why should I trust you?"

"I could have killed you or turned you over a hundred times, girl. But I took care of you."

Arya shrugged. "We wait for cover of darkness."

"Aye. And I can get some fucking rest before that."

Arya lay down on the ground, leaving a decent sized gap between herself and the Hound, her hand tightly wrapped around Needle. She shut her eyes and dreamed.

Nymeria was so close that it almost hurt her. She missed Nymeria so much that it physically hurt. Seeing the world through Nymeria's eyes only made her miss her more.

Once they had found her family, she would find Nymeria. And with Nymeria, she would be able to avenge Gendry.