Long after the crew bedded down for the night, merry with the extra cups their captain insisted they drink, and the first watch was posted, Arya crept into her quarters. Paulo had taken his promotion earnestly and bid her goodnight from his new hammock. And thus, she was alone, save for Brienne's luggage and the slumbering bull on her floor.

The door hinges were silent on their posts. Only the strip of leather at the bottom of the doorway to keep the rain out hissed along the wooden planks. Though, she knew that an entire army could board the ship and he'd sleep though it, given that Robert Stone admitted to slipping him some milk of poppy to keep the man down.

Good of her first mate to make such a wise decision. Gendry would feel better on the morrow.

The lantern flickered as gusts whisked through the open window. The sun had set more than an hour before she left her crew. Wine buzzed through her blood, warming her more than it ought. She toed off her boots into their corner and shed her vest. With a wicked grin and alcohol-tainted thoughts, Arya shucked her pants to the floor. Her long shirt billowed in the breeze. She closed her eyes and swayed, imagining a far-away beach, where the white sand spilled between her toes. Something brushed her left thigh. She tipped her chin down and frowned when she saw it was the hem of her shirt.

With a huff, Arya dropped to the bed. She snuffed the light and laid across the covers on her side. The wind chased goosebumps up her sweaty legs. And as her eyes adjusted to the shadows, they remained on the man only an arm's length away.

It was easy to card her lazy fingers through his Gendry's dark curls. If he grew it out much more, he'd need to borrow Paulo's leather ties. She smirked. The Lord of Storm's End wearing leather ties in his hair. But she really wanted to know why it was so soft.

Groaning, she rolled onto her back, her arms limp across her stomach. The excess wine refused to chase away the thoughts of the man beside her, and had only made the desire she sought to snuff out course through her body like a fever. She stood up. Paced to the table. Returned to her bed. Sat down. Stood up once more. With muddled resolution, Arya dragged her bedding to the floor.

By then, she could see the lines at the corners of his eyes when she scooched closer. When she pulled her fingers through his hair again, the memory of it caught her off guard.

Robb and Jon were fishing outside of the Hunter's Gate. It was a hot day and Mother had sent her to her room for practicing her stitches on Septa Mordane's robes when she nodded off. Arya escaped in search of the freedom her brothers had. Jon motioned for her to approach quietly. She sat near Robb's head and played with his soft hair.

"You could be my family," Arya whispered to the man before her now, their lips nearly touching. Because in the dark, it was easy to be herself. Arya Underfoot, the baby the grumpkins replaced. The wine lulled her into a dream of laying in bed with her husband all day. Perhaps a dark-haired girl she would name Cat who would wield Needle.

"I am a lady. It was me." Her quiet admission came with a limp smile. "Well, a lady in name only and certainly not the lady Storm's End needs. There are things you'll never know about me. Things you'd hate."

Gendry dragged in a long snuffle and held it. Arya did the same, only releasing when his hot breath warmed her forehead. She pressed her lips to his once he settled.

"I could do this every night. Where no one sees me." His lips were slightly chapped when she kissed him again. "But I won't. Because that isn't me." As she stood, her resolve fastened again, pushing past the delusions and longings. She crawled onto her bed and faced the wall. Outside of her window, life still carried on. And so, it seemed, would she.

Arya nodded to Robert in the sliver of dawn, downing the awful concoction of milk and wine to chase her headache away. She gagged and handed the cup back to him. Stretching her legs, she walked the topside from stem to stern. Ropes were coiled, barrels fastened. She stomped on the central hatch to wake her men. Paulo was the first to crawl up, blinking heavy lids.

"Mornin' Captain." He held his book close.

"Did you sleep well?"

"No." His mouth stretched into a yawn. "I will try the floor tonight."

Arya kept her smile at bay. "Perhaps the freight, then. Wouldn't want you to drown first if we sprung a leak." She tousled his hair.

The lad nodded, fighting a second yawn. "Is Lord Baratheon awake?" He angled to see her door.

"He should be roused. See to it." She didn't trust herself in the daylight behind closed doors. And if he stumbled out with his clothing rumpled and askew, the crew would think something. Certainly, they'd never admit it aloud.

Paulo scampered off as Brienne called out a greeting from the dock. "I don't know that we slept much," she admitted. "But we brought our breakfast and are ready for departure." Here was a woman at ease in her role as both warrior and mother. A tendril of jealousy snaked through Arya, sinking its teeth into her soul.

"The easiest place for you to be would be the bow—the front. We will be busy maneuvering in the waters for the short trip and ropes can be precarious."

Jayna's blond brows dipped as she surveyed the deck. Her gaze lingered on each coiled rope, as if she memorized their place. She only looked up when the cabin door flung open and Paulo skidded out, followed by Gendry, who held his head in both hands.

"Do you feel better?" Brienne asked, grinning widely.

Gendry squinted at the women. "My stomach is empty and my head is swimming."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Arya said. She guided the passengers to the bow as her crew emerged from below and began preparing to sail. "Paulo is my right hand and will help you with anything." The boy straightened his thin frame.

"Where are your shoes?" Jayna stepped forward to her small counterpart.

"Don't need 'em on a boat. And I grow too fast to keep 'em."

"What about splinters?"

"Don't feel 'em."

"Don't you get cold?"

"Iffin' I do, I just put on a pair of socks."

"What if they get wet?"

"I change them. Don't you ever go without shoes?"

Arya smiled and left to the helm, where her brother waited as a crow and its creepy third eye. "I'll bring Jon back," she said when it hoped onto the top wheel spoke. "I'll find an egg and hopefully we can figure it out. But I would like you to tell me why I have to lug around the lord of Storm's End."

The crow cawed in her face. It made her ears hurt.

"Fine. I'll figure that out, too. I always do."

Bran flew away.

Arya cleared her throat. This part was always her favorite. "Push off!" she yelled. The hurricane of following orders between the sailors was a tune she knew best. Overhead, the top sail unraveled and filled with the wind. The gangplank scraped the starboard side as it was pulled and stored. She and Robert relayed commands. Wood creaked and groaned as the ropes were cast off by dock hands. Finally, the clanking iron anchor chains rattled below her feet and the boat eased away from Kings Landing.

She couldn't help but see her human cargo at the front of the ship. Paulo gave Gendry something to eat, perhaps hardtack, then he and Jayna sat on the deck facing one another. Probably another round of questions. Brienne wedged herself against a rail and watched the children. Opposite, Gendry nibbled on his food and stared out across Blackwater Bay. Arya adjusted the rudder in small measures, as if that would help his stomach.

Midday, after the sun reached its zenith, Arya turned the wheel over to Robert and invited her friends to sit on some boxes near her cabin to eat. "My apologies that we do not have a dining hall," she said, passing out small sandwiches the cook had Paulo deliver. "We rarely take on passengers and eat in shifts."

"Like an army," Jayna suggested, launching into her meal like a rabid dog.

"A floating army," Paulo said, nodding.

Arya was impressed. "I see your mother taught you military tactics already."

Jayna's slight shoulders straightened under her blue tunic. "My mother teaches me everything. Even swordplay."

Paulo's mouth dropped. "You have a sword?"

Jayna pulled the thin blade near her waist. Arya caught Brienne's glance. "It has no name yet."

"It looks like Captain's!"

The girl regarded her sword and replaced it. She shoved the last of the sandwich into her mouth. "Muver taught meh lots of thuff."

"Do you know how to read star charts?" Paulo wiggled in his spot, knowing he'd trumped her. When she shook her head, he nodded. "I can teach you! Captain, permission to show the lady the charts?"

Arya grinned. "Granted." And the pair darted away, neither aware that at that same age, she'd seen more violence than a child should.

"Thank you," Brienne said. "Jayna has a way of … chasing off friends."

"Lucky for her, my boy has grown under my shadow and is used to that." Arya licked her fingers clean.

Gendry hadn't even made it halfway through his sandwich before he put it down and sipped some cold ginger tea. "Does he remember anything at all?"

Arya looked over her shoulder. "Other than the nightmares, no. And those are rare now."

"Thank the old gods and new," Brienne sighed. "No one should have to remember that."

"Have you had any ideas on how to find your brother?" Gendry asked, picking at the bread.

"None." Arya swiped the sandwich and proceeded to take a bite. "I'm hoping that by the time we reach home, Sansa will have something for me."

"By home you mean Winterfell?"

"Of course, stupid."

Brienne's laughter barked like a seal. "Forgive me, lord," she said with a grin. "I've missed this one's wit."

"Oh, it's still as sharp as her dagger," he said into the rim of his cup. He flicked his gaze to Arya's and captured hers. For a heartbeat, she regarded him as a man. A man she could—. She looked away to make it pass.

"Sam gave Paulo a book on dragons. I am hoping that he will give us some clues on where to find dragon eggs. Though from there, I will leave it to Jon to figure out."

"Captain," a deckhand called, nervously looking between the trio. "Robert Stone has asked me to fetch you."

She nodded to Brienne and Gendry and followed the weathered man back to the helm. "What is it?" Arya climbed the platform and looked to the west, where Robert's eyes stayed glued to the horizon.

"I believe that we will have clear skies tonight. But a storm will delay our arrival to Dragonstone." In all of their years at the wheel together, Robert Stone was never wrong about the weather. Not even once.

"Let's make haste, then." She took over the wheel while Robert ordered the crew to drop both mainsails. The white cloth snapped open. Both masts rasped and held fast. Her hair blew out behind her as they began to pick up speed.

And there she remained until dusk. The crew began their shifts, swapping duties below and above deck. Brienne and Jayna disappeared to her quarters. Paulo told her of a little alcove that fit him. Her feet ached from standing there for hours, but she held fast until Robert Stone silently pried the wheel from her hands. "You need sleep, Captain," he said with a nod. Compass and shielded lantern in hand, he moved her to the side and took charge of the vessel.

Arya grabbed the plate of cold meat and stale bread that had sat next to her for hours. She retreated to the stern deck, behind a small wall that blocked the wind. With her back against the wood, she watched the lights of Kings Landing grow smaller. One step closer to Sansa, and then Jon.

Her sister. Sansa had married a Northerner and had two children before her husband died. She didn't seem bothered by it in her letters. Only that the men in her small council seemed determined to marry her off again.

Arya wondered what her niece and nephew looked like. Did Eddard have dark hair like his father? Or was his sister Lyanna kissed by fire?

Winterfell had changed too, Sansa explained. Free Folk traded there and returned North. Babies were plentiful with the long cold winters. And she'd rebuilt Mother's glass garden. Maybe there'd be a lemon or two this year.

Kings Landing grew smaller and smaller still, until the lights disappeared behind Rosby's Horn. Arya rested her head against the wall. She still needed to grab bedding to sleep on the deck. It was still warm enough and she had no desire to bunk below. She'd figure out something different for the next night, if the storm hit, but it was good to watch the star and remember how very insignificant she truly was.

Exhaustion kept her awake after she'd laid down. The most she tried to make herself sleep, the more alert she became. Until finally, Arya stood and gripped the stern railing. Willing her eyes to close and relaxing her muscles, she fell into rhythm with the ocean—the fish and creatures below, the tide's ebb and flow. The week washed away into the salt water as she breathed deeply. It was enough to be out at sea again.

She jerked when something brushed her hand, muscles coiled into a fighting stance.

Gendy chuckled. "I don't ever think I've snuck up on you." He leaned onto the bannister.

Arya took two shaky breaths. She hadn't heard him coming and anyone could hear his footsteps one hundred paces away. Resuming her place at the rail, she was grateful it was dark so that he couldn't see the angry heat in her cheeks. It rendered her silent.

"You know that I can't lie to you," Gendry said, hesitating. The crescent moon lent no help to allow her to see his profile, but she felt him shift toward her. Their arms touched elbow to shoulder. He started to speak, then stopped with a sigh.

She stilled when he leaned closer, his forehead at her temple. "I think … I think that you should live your life. Take opportunities. Be honest. Be true to yourself. Tell them how you really feel." His lips dipped and he kissed her softly on the cheek. Full of every promise she ever denied herself.

"Because in the dark where no one can see you, you can be a lady. And I will never tell anyone."

For the second time in one evening, Gendry Baratheon shocked Arya Stark.