Hey guys! Sorry that it has taken me so long to get a new chapter up! Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope this is a good present for you guys, it's just going to get better from here! And I promise to try to update more often for you guys.

The Song of the Smith and Stranger

Ghosts of the Past

The mist that hung over Winterfell had yet to clear when Arya stepped out of the castle into the brisk morning air; her direwolf padded quietly by her side like a shadow. She had once again grown accustomed to the constant companionship of the animal and subconsciously dug her fingers into the coarse fur of Nymeria's scruff as she thought about the long years she spent without her solid presence. Nymeria leaned into the touch almost knocking Arya off balance, the princess was a grown woman now but she was still rather small and what her mistress lacked in height Nymeria made up for in sheer size. The direwolf came up to Arya's hip, a good three feet tall at the shoulder, almost as big as her brothers; yet the males were both larger then her.

As they walked Nymeria's red-tinted pelt shown golden in the early morning light as she moved like a ghost through the fog, her human by her side. She paused every few steps to sniff the air cautiously, tail high, as if she had scented an enemy; it put her human on edge. Arya's fingers tightened around the thick skin under Nymeria's fur when the direwolf let out a soft growl. Arya stopped, tension written plainly in the line of her shoulders. "Show yourself," she demanded with a growl not unlike her beast's.

Tap emerged from the shadows of the castle to take a place on the side of Arya that was not occupied by the gargantuan wolf. Arya grinned at the sight of him, blue eyes dancing, Nymeria wagging her tail accordingly with her human's mood. "Good doggy," Tap said smiling at the direwolf. "How is my favorite princess this morning?" Tap inquired, throwing a casual arm around Arya's shoulder, who wrinkled her nose at the form of address but did not respond, ignoring him but for the tight smile that curled one side of her mouth up. "Off to the field for practice? Great, I haven't swung a sword in ages," Tap whined with conviction.

Arya's eyes slid sideways to him, her first real acknowledgement of his presence. "What are you doing here Tap?" Arya's voice was full of suspicion; it was not like the pirate to go wondering about the castle grounds. Him and the rest of Arya's motley crew preferred staying at the inn in town, causing ample amounts of benign difficulties.

Tap's constant brilliant smile faltered momentarily. "Can't I get up at the crack of dawn for a bit of light combat with the royalty?"

Arya blinked at him, "no." Tap hummed in confirmation but did not comment further. "My brother put you up to this," she hypothesized in Tap's continued silence.

"The king had nothing to do with it," Tap smiled wickedly to himself, as if enjoying a private joke.

"No, but I'm sure the prince did."

Tap scowled good naturedly and narrowed his eyes but said nothing. That was all the evidence Arya needed, she sighed heavily and resigned herself to being followed. She knew a guard would be set up for her eventually (she could not successfully wander around the castle by herself for all time, it was bound to happen sooner or later, sooner if her brothers had anything to do with it) and if such a guard was going to consist of the pirates who had traveled with her she really couldn't complain. Damn Bran, even after being apart for over a decade he could still read her with one look from those inquisitive eyes.

Tap smiled triumphantly, reading her inner thoughts clearly on her face, the princess was not one for hiding her emotions well, even for being a Faceless Man. When she reached the courtyard she was surprised to see it was already occupied. Shaggydog bounded over to them, tongue lolling from his mouth, when he reached them he pressed his nose to his sister's in greeting. Rickon looked up when he noticed his direwolf missing from his side and hailed them with a wave of his hand, his other firmly grasped in his son's. The two year old smiled a gapped-tooth grin around the thumb in his mouth at the sight of his newly acquired aunt and her companions. Rickon's eyes flicked from Tap's arm around Arya's shoulder to Arya's fist still clenched in Nymeria's fur. Tap dropped his arm at the same time Arya removed her hand from the direwolf's warm body. Damn her brothers and their perceptiveness and meddling. The young black haired boy tugged his hand out of his father's grip and waddled over to his aunt. Arya shifted from one foot the other before kneeling down in front of the young prince. Robb placed his hand on Shaggydog's side to steady himself as he made his way towards Arya. When he was within reach, Arya reached out her hand for him. He smiled brilliantly at her, those Stark grey eyes twinkling at her. She couldn't help but smile back despite her uncomfortableness of the close proximity of the young child.

Young Robb took her hand with his own chubby one and waddled the rest of the way over to her, leaning against her hand for support, unsteady on his short legs. When he was close enough he threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck and clinging tightly. "Up, up!" He commanded and Arya stiffened. She could feel Tap watching her with a smirk on his face. She glared at him overtop of her nephew's curly hair. He smelled clean and fresh, a scent she had always associated with Rickon himself, since he was only a young child when she'd left.

She stood slowly, cradling Robb to her, one hand under his rump and the other across his shoulders. He squealed happily and tugged on the end of her braid, sticking it in her mouth. She gently tugged it out of his grip and threw it over her shoulder where he couldn't reach it. She noticed Rickon standing a few steps off, frowning slightly at her. She raised her eyebrows at him in question but didn't comment. Rickon's Tully blue eyes flickered quickly to Tap and then back to her again before he spoke. "You've changed," he stated quietly.

"So have you," she smiled, swallowing down the nervous emotion that threatened to clog her throat. He briefly smiled at her.

"You never had that kind of patience for me when I was small. You were always running around after Jon or terrorizing Sansa."

She considered him for a moment, the man standing in front of her now. He was taller than her and broad, built so much like Robb, though his hair was a lighter shade, almost blonde but still with that resilient red tinge, the faint trace of a beard on his high cheekbones and strong jaw. He was dressed in furs and breeches, the direwolf of Stark sewed proudly on his vest. "I like Robb here much better than you," it felt strange to say her brother's name when referring to another, but she liked it. "He's quieter. If I recall correctly you were always yowling loudly." She let a smile play on her lips to let him know no harm was meant.

"Horseface," he responded with an equally indulgent smile. Tap raised an eyebrow as the siblings stared at each other conspiratorially. Robb rested his head on his aunt's shoulder, and she unconsciously nuzzled her nose in his hair, feeling a strange burning in her heart that she very rarely had ever felt before and certainly not in a long while: protectiveness. Rickon looked down at his son, coming closer so that he could card his fingers through the soft hair on top of Robb's head. He had begun to fall asleep. Rickon held out his arms wordlessly and Arya narrowed her eyes at him before reluctantly giving up Robb to his father. Rickon smiled and ruffled his older sister's fondly. She slapped his hand away and he left, sauntering across the yard with his son's head peeking out over his shoulder, those piercing Stark eyes staring at Arya.

Tap, who had been standing silently by for the whole scene, spoke up: "so what's the plan for this morning?"

Arya turned, eyeing the pirate she gave him a predatory grin, "you said you wanted to practice?" She drew Needle cleanly from it's sheath by her side, and angled her foot backwards so that she was standing side-faced, resting her weight on the leg behind her, moving her hips into a defensive position. She pointed Needle at Tap's chest.

"I don't think it's the best idea to use unblunted swords," he said warily but drew his own sword all the same.

She raised an eyebrow at him in challenge, "scared?"

He took the opportunity to lung at her full force, his sword coming down in an overhead swing, she sidestepped swiftly, caught only momentarily off guard. She repositioned herself again, twisting to bring her sword down on his back, as she danced around him. He dodged at the last moment to deflect in a flourish, his grin widened. She swayed, waiting for him to attack again. When he did it was with a rapid flurry of blows, mindless and impractical. She darted out of the way easily, hopping from one foot to the other, all the while keeping side-face.

Tap's smile faltered slightly, "damn."

She smirked. Tap backed off somewhat and they exchanged a few more playful blows until Arya managed to spin around behind him bringing Needle up to his neck, his back flush to her chest. "I win," she breathed quietly in his ear before releasing him. They were both panting slightly, their breaths coming out in short bursts of fog in the chilly air. Arya's cheeks and nose were red from the cold, her hair coming out of her braid in chunks, in her breeches and boots with Needle in her hand she looked every part the warrior princess. Sheathing Needle she freed her hands in order to swiftly re-braid her hair. As she sat down to catch her breath an unexpected party showed up in the courtyard.

Sansa's red hair shown brilliantly in the sun which had now fully staked its claim in the sky. She was flanked by a figure who made Arya un-sheath her sword and go storming towards the gigantic man, Nymeria on her heels, ears flat on her head. "You," she accused as she pointed Needle at his neck. He made no move to defend himself, merely raised his eyebrow on the side of his face which was not ashen and marred.

"Put your blade down Arya," Sansa's confident voice made Arya hesitate, but she didn't move.

"I thought you died," she snarled instead, poking Needle into the soft flesh near his Adam's apple.

"Same could be said for you, wolf pup." The Hound growled.

"Quiet, both of you. Arya, put away your sword, he's not going to do anything to you." Sansa met Arya's gaze with her own frosty one, Arya scowled back at her but sheathed Needle, Nymeria's ears stayed against her skull, tail in the air and coat bristled threateningly.

"What is he doing here?" Arya demanded, trying to keep the childish whine from her voice. Her sister was not impressed.

"He is part of my guard, and a friend."

"A friend?" Arya looked incredulously between Sansa and the Hound. "Sansa, he's a Lannister dog." The Hound flinched but said nothing in defense of himself.

"The Hound protected me more than anyone else during my time in the Red Keep," Sansa's voice was distant. "I owe him my life."

"He wanted to ransom me!"

"To your mother and brother you ungrateful bitch," the Hound snarled. They narrowed their eyes at each other. Sansa's hand reached out to touch the Hound on the arm. He looked at her before breathing through his nose and retreating a step. Arya's gaze flickered between them, her brother's weren't the only perceptive ones, and she'd be damned if she didn't know what that look meant. Wasn't Sansa married?

"I would like to extend an invitation to break your fast with me, if you would?" Sansa said, smiling serenely as if nothing had just occurred between her guard and Arya.

Arya chewed her lip thoughtfully, Sansa was not exactly the first person she wanted to spend all morning with, but she was looking even less towards court that was being held later in the morning and decided a distraction would not be unwelcome. "I guess I am pretty hungry," she conceded.

"This way," Sansa turned, her skirts swirling on the ground as she strode towards the inner walls of the castle. Arya looked back over her shoulder at Tap who raised his shoulders in a shrug before stepping in line beside the Hound to follow her into the castle. When the reached Sansa's quarters Arya collapsed in her chair, admittedly more hungry than she had let on, Nymeria laid down next to her chair and put her head contentedly on her paws. Sansa sat more gracefully across the table from her. The Hound and Tap positioned themselves on either side of the door, the Hound stock still and back straight whilst Tap leaned against the frame, putting one foot up against the wall and picking at his fingernails with a dagger, winking at Arya when she looked up and smiled at him. Sansa watched the interaction before taking a dainty bite of mutton. Arya followed suit and began eating with vigor. It wasn't until they were both finished, Arya nursing a bit of Dornish wine and Sansa sipping lightly on some water that they actually spoke.

"Why did you put out the search?" Sansa asked casually, putting her water down and staring at her sister, who shifted unconsciously from the gaze.

"I wanted to find him," she answered, her teeth trapping her bottom lip and worrying it back and forth.

"Why?"

"He helped me when I needed it, and I never said thank you."

"You were never one for thank you's Arya," Sansa pointed out.

Arya scowled, "he deserves one."

Sansa assessed her sister for a minute more, "yes, I do believe he does."

Arya looked up, startled by that statement. "What?"

Sansa just smiled. "It looks about time. Rickon and Bran are probably already waiting for us in the Hall."

Arya heaved herself up out of the chair with a groan, Sansa treated her with an indulgent smile which Arya rolled her eyes at but gave a small one in return. In the Throne room the four large chairs sat in a row upon the dais. Rickon and Bran sat side by side as Sansa and Arya came in, Sansa sitting to Rickon's left and Arya to Bran's right. Nymeria sat next to the chair so that Arya could put her hand on her head, the gesture relaxing both of them. Shaggydog lurked in the shadows in-between Sansa and Rickon's chairs, while Summer laid out lazily next to Bran's legs.

The court was full to the brim with commoners and representatives of other houses of the North. When everything was settled a man stepped forward. His hair was blonde and he had beady, mistrustful eyes. He nodded his head in acknowledgement at Rickon but then turned his attention to Arya. "Princess," he said with reverence and she stiffened. "I know you probably don't remember me since you were young when we parted but I've dreamed of you every night. It has been too long, I was so glad that you returned home and I came as soon as I heard. Let me have the pleasure of reintroducing myself, I am Gendry, the Smith."

Arya snorted a laugh, causing all her siblings to turn towards her.

"Is something funny m'lady?"

As soon as the words left him Arya's mouth hardened. "You are not him."

"I know it's been a while, Princess—" the imposter stuttered under the ferocity of her gaze.

"You are not him," she repeated forcefully.

"M'lady," he pleaded.

"Leave," she bit out forcefully.

"The Princess will consider your words," Rickon said, his voice rich and full, demanding the attention of the blonde man and everyone else in the room.

"Get out," Arya demanded, louder. The man hastily stumbled from the room. The next four attempts after the initial one were just as bad, if not worse. They were too short or too thin or blonde or had brown eyes or talked funny, she sent them all on their way. As evening drew nearer she was becoming distinctly panicked. She had given the orders for men to search or come forward with any news of Gendry Waters two moons ago, almost as soon as she had arrived. It had been long enough for the word to reach the capital at the very least and gave ample amount of time for anyone from the far reaches of the South to make their way North. She wondered if she might've been mistaken. Maybe one of the men she had sent away had been him and her memory was just not accurate. She had sent them all away with such finality; she doubted if one of them had been him they would try for a second attempt. Would she even recognize her friend if she saw him? Would she know her smith? With his black hair and blue, blue eyes? Would she? She bit her lip in consideration, lost in thought, until the doors to the courtroom opened, making many people jump and causing Rickon to straighten on his throne, where he had taken to leaning one side, legs crossed and looking distinctly bored.

A man walked in flanked by two guards who were protesting his intrusion. One of the guards grabbed for his arm but he yanked it way and continued barreling forwards. When he reached the bottom of the dais, he looked up at Rickon from under a fringe of black hair. "Your Grace," he mumbled through gritted teeth, as if it pained him to address someone of high rank. Rickon acknowledged him with a sharp nod of his head. He turned then, almost instinctively his eyes connected with Arya's and she felt her heart drop into her stomach: deep blue eyes, deeper than the sea she crossed to escape them.

"Arya," he breathed, it was no more than a whisper, but the sound of it echoed inside her head. Nymeria stood and Arya's hand dropped from her head. The giant direwolf walked down the dais almost hesitantly, tail up and ears flicked forwards. The entire court watched in eager anticipation, torn between horror and curiosity. Nymeria circled him, once, twice but the man never took his eyes from Arya's, pinning her to her seat no matter how she tried to squirm out from under them. His lips were set in a hard line and he looked tired and angry but mostly relieved, the only move he made was to half way lift his hands, as if reaching out for her. She flicked her eyes downwards to this movement and saw him stop abruptly as if he hadn't realized what he'd been doing before. He clenched his fists and she could see the ripples of muscle moving up his forearm and into his bicep as he struggled to regain composure.

It was enough to break her temporary numbness. She stood and made her way towards him, following the same path her direwolf had taken, Nymeria still circling him. He watched her slow approach with a curiously blank expression. Arya's heart was jumping around in her throat. When she was near enough to reach out and touch him, she stopped. She saw a muscle in his jaw flex and relax, "Arya," he said again, quietly, almost pleadingly.

Arya turned towards Rickon who was watching the scene before him with guarded curiosity, when he noticed his sister's gaze on him he turned towards her. "Brother, arrest this man for crimes against the crown." She had never used a commanding voice, but it rang throughout the halls, bargaining no argument. The two guards who had followed the blue-eyed man into the Hall looked at Rickon uncertainly but when he nodded shortly they grabbed the man by his arms and shoulders.

"What?" his eyes darting, confused, between Arya and Rickon. "Dammit, Arya, it's Gendry. You know me. You fucking know me. I'm fucking sorry, alright? I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't know. I'm sorry," he struggled against the guards. "I fucking looked for you! I spent ten damn years searching for you and you're just going to lock me up?" He managed to elbow one of the guards in the face and wiggle his way free from the other. He stepped forward and grabbed Arya's face in his hands. "It's me, you know it is. It's me," he said almost desperately pressing his forehead to hers. She didn't move, stood there stunned as his coarse hands burned into her skin as if she was on fire. Nymeria whined. A growl ripped through the sudden silence that had engulfed the court.

"Ser, remove your hands from the Princess. You are to be taken to the cells until we decide what to do with you." Rickon was standing now, Shaggydog at his feet. "That was no way to speak to a lady of the court," he added as a kingly after-thought.

Gendry released Arya's face, and the burning chilled so suddenly that Arya reached up to touch her cheek. Gendry glared at her balling his hands into fists. "She's no lady." He stepped back and the guard who was not profusely bleeding from his nose grabbed one of his arms. He made no struggle this time but simply looked up at Arya with those blue, blue eyes before he was dragged forcefully from the room.