Arya felt the hair on her neck prickle. She stilled, searching with her senses for any sign of danger. The forest was quiet, too quiet in fact. It was suspiciously absent of any bird noises. She looked to her left and right, trying to anticipate where the danger came from.

"Oi." A man's voice fell from above. Arya and Gendry looked up sharply. A man straddled a thick branch, aiming a bow directly at Gendry. Arya cursed herself, she had been so careful to watch the ground, she hadn't even thought an enemy could approach from above.

The man watched Gendry carefully, not bothering to worry about Arya. His carelessness was the opening she needed. She moved slowly, reaching for the dagger. She almost had it in hand, when she heard a scrape and a thump right behind her.

"I don't think so, boy," the smooth voice said. "Hands where we can see them." Arya raised her hands, leaving her dagger where it was. The man behind her had his sword resting near her shoulder, ready to take her head off if she so much as moved.

"That's no boy," the archer called surveying her features, "just an ugly girl." Arya glared at him. She felt Gendry bristle a few steps away. The man behind her whistled and she heard two men approaching from separate directions.

When the extra men came within view, Arya's heart stopped.

"Caught a couple of looters, Lem?" the young man asked. Arya debated momentarily about what to do, but she could recognize a futile situation when it stared her in the face. She lowered her hand from her dagger.

"We're not looters," she said. Her blade was out of reach, but her body was alert for any sudden movements or attacks, "Just travelers." One of them snorted.

"No one's 'just a traveler' anymore," one of them said stepping forward. "But you travelers can come with us. We don't trust anyone trying to travel through our land. You two get the honor of traveling back to the inn with us so we can make sure you don't mean no funny business." Arya bit back a retort. She had no desire to end up stuck like a pig for talking back to some backwater bandit. If they wanted, she would cooperate, but only long enough for her and Gendry to escape. At the end of it, they would be none the wiser, and Arya would be one stop closer to home.

They traveled to a place the men called Acorn Hall. The men seemed glad for a warm place to eat dinner and revel, but Arya was simply annoyed by the detour. Gendry seemed fine with the men. He listened avidly to their stories and tales, absorbing their silly ideals about chivalry and honor. Arya knew how flimsy such words were, how thin the ideas the represented really were. She looked forward to getting to Acorn Hall. Such places were usually bustling, and it would be easy for Arya and Gendry to slip out unnoticed and go one their way. When they arrived Arya was quickly whisked away by a pair of giggling maids. They promised the men to clean her up good and return her promptly.

Arya disliked being talked about as though she were not there, but she went with them without a fight.

"Gods child, when was the last time water even touched your skin?" a maid her sister's age asked. The maids had been scrubbing Arya for close to an hour, and they were still finding dirt on her. Finally, the maids threw their hands up in disgust and let a sullen and soggy Arya get out of the tub. As she was being toweled dry, one of the maids approached her holding a dress out. Arya groaned. There had been major advantages in being thought a boy. She did not wish to offend the lady though, not when she was being so kind. The dress felt tight and restricting to Arya. She had gotten used to the freedom of breeches. She put it on anyway and forced a watery smile onto her face.

"Thank you m'lady," she said, curtsying. The maids smiled at her. She could tell they were proud of the progress they had made. Arya walked downstairs to joing Gendry and the other men.

Arya listened to the men report the news and gossip they had gathered back to Tom. No one paid any attention to her, so she slipped an old knife into her sleeve. Just in case. She listened carefully to all the news, trying to piece together what had happened since she had gone on the run. She had already some idea of the general air of chaos that had descended upon Westeros, but during dinner she began to fill in details as to exactly what was happening.

Her ears perked up at the mention of Winterfell, and she tried not to seem too interested in her home. Her determined nonchalance turning quickly to horror as the news sunk in. Winterfell had been destroyed by the hand of Theon Greyjoy. He had killed her brothers. Bran was gone. Rickon was gone. Her home and all the servants she had grown up with, gone. She ran over those words in her mind, but they seemed wrong. Foreign. That was impossible. Theon had played horsey with her brothers. He had taught them to shoot a bow. He loved them. He could not. He would not kill them. She bit the inside of her lip so hard it bled.

"Arya," Gendry said, shaking her arm to get her attention. "They have a forge here. Go see it with me?" His eyes were gentle, and the pity she saw in their depths was almost too much for her to bear. She nodded, looking at her feet as she stepped away from the table.

She followed Gendry blindly as he guided her down to the forge and then past it. He stopped when he reached the gentle slope of the hill.

Arya fell to her knees. Tears spilled over her cheeks and landed in the dirt. She lost her fight with emotion and gasped as sobs racked her body. Gendry rubbed her back in small circles, but his touch was unbearable at the moment. She wriggled away from his touch, not wanting to share her grief. No one could make her feel better, or take away her pain.

Arya let herself feel a lifetime of grief for losing her younger brothers. She cried so long that Gendry had to sit down a few feet away, he was tired of standing. She cried until her tears dried up and her hiccups died down.

She gave herself this one moment to grieve, to pray, to remember. Then she would lock this memory, this grief up. Arya did not have the luxury of letting the pain swallow her whole. She had to be strong and carry on. She had many more lives on her list of people to avenge.

When she turned to look at Gendry with red, swollen eyes she saw his cheeks were wet as well.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Arya nodded, wiping her cheeks with the back of the sleeve.

"It's fine." Her moment was over. It was back to business for Arya, and her business was surviving.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gendry hesitated before adding, "About them?"

"No. You couldn't understand, and it would be pointless." Arya's voice was hard.

"Sorry for trying to help." Gendry sounded sullen. Arya bristled at his tone.

"Do you want me to tell you stories about them? Cry some more for them? Will that bring them back? Will it make me feel better? Will it help avenge their deaths?" Gendry remained silent. "That's what I thought."

"You're right." Gendry shook his head, looking chastened. "I'm sorry, Arya," he paused uncertainly. "I just hate feeling useless." Arya nodded.

"I feel like this is my fault. If I had been there, I could have helped them. My brothers would still be alive."

"Or you would be dead as well," Gendry added. Arya thought about that. It didn't make the hurt go away, but it did lessen the guilt she felt. She was their older sister, and she should have protected them. It was too late for her to save them, but not too late to avenge them.

"We can't go to Winterfell anymore." Arya realized that her destination no longer existed. She had nowhere to go.

"What about Riverrun?" Gendry suggested. "We could join with your brother. I'm sure they could use a blacksmith." Arya liked the way Gendry used the word 'we' like them being together was a foregone conclusion. She had lost so much, she couldn't imagine losing Gendry as well.

"Riverrun," she agreed. There was little other choice, Robb was all she had left, her chance to be safe again. She plucked a blade of grass and threw it at his face. It tangled in his eyelashes and he shook his head vigorously to dislodge it. Arya giggled at him. Gendry threw a handful of grass at her. Arya grabbed a handful of dirt and rubbed it into the top of his head. He followed suit, and soon they were as dirty as they had been when they arrived.

Arya pulled away giggling. She plucked a yellow wildflower from the earth and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. "Truce?" she begged.

"Truce," he agreed, brushing large clods of dirt and blades of grass out of her hair. "How do I look?" Blades of grass stuck out of his hair, and his shirt was covered in bits of rock and dirt. Arya made a disapproving face and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. He cupped a protective hand over the flower she had given him, so her roving hands wouldn't squish it.

"We need to go to Riverrun," Arya announced to the room full of Brothers. Only one or two paid her any heed, and then it was only to laugh at her pitiful declaration. Arya was not surprised, but she was not about to give up. She leapt onto the table and drew Needle, stabbing a slab of meat clean through. The room fell silent. Thirty pairs of eyes were trained on Arya as she scowled down from her perch.

"I said," she began slowly, "That my friend and I must go to Riverrun. My brother, Robb, is there and he will pay handsomely for my return." Clearly no one believed her, she could feel their attention drifting back to food and drink.

"Wait!" a voice cried from the back of the room. "She's not lying, that's little Arya Horseface alright. My father worked in her stables." The room fell silent again. The men clearly at a loss as to how to handle a ten year old noble girl in their midst. Tom stepped forward, clearly in charge.

"She goes to Beric." The few men Arya could see nodded. She stamped her foot, on the table.

"No! Robb will pay my ransom. Take me to Riverrun." Arya's voice wavered, she hated that tears were prickling her eyes, but this is not how she had expected things to happen. She had thought that any man in their right mind would take her ransom gladly. Apparently, greed was not as strong of a motivator among this group, as she had originally expected it to be. Damn men and their misplaced sense of honor. She wanted this ordeal to be over, to be with her family again. Pity softened Tom's gaze, which stiffened Arya's resolve.

"I'm sorry, lass." And he did seem genuinely sorry. "All highborn captives go to Beric first, but we'll get you to your brother in no time." She started to draw her blade out of the meat. Her mind was calm and blank, and she did not have a plan other than to wipe that pity out of his eyes and replace it with something else. A warm hand gripped her arm, and pulled her off the table before she could make a move. She knew by the feel of him that it was Gendry, but she didn't relax.

"You're going to take on thirty full grown men, are you?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she said fiercely. Her fist tightened around Needle's hilt. Gendry burst out laughing, cutting through her anger and frustration to allow a small bit of logic through. She sheathed Needle, and slumped into a chair.

"What a fierce little wolf pup you are." Gendry chuckled at her scowling face.

Traveling with the Brotherhood was a different experience than traveling alone. They didn't make their presence obvious, but there wasn't the same level of secrecy or fear hanging around the men. They were always ready for battle, as if a battle could always find them.

They moved out, following whispers here and their across the countryside trying to find this [[Lightning Lord]] of theirs. Arya wondered if they were following a ghost or if thirty odd men had all lost their marbles at the same time. Gendry laughed at her suggestion, but told her to keep such insights to herself. She hoped she was wrong.

Arya never thought she'd miss the directness of their own meandering path North. The Brotherhood tracked back and forth across the countryside often backtracking or returning to places they'd already been. The first night they camped outside, but the second night they had a tip, or so Tom had claimed, that led them to a bustling inn hiding in the woods.

The Peach was a loud, boisterous inn with men coming and going and women serving and flirting. It didn't take long for Arya to realize exactly what sort of establishment they were really in. Arya sat glumly by while the [[Brothers?]] spilled ale down their fronts and pinched bar maids bottoms. The whores had been flirting with Gendry the entire time. He was clearly young, handsome and a step above the average quality of the Brotherhood. His full head of hair and unbroken smile were enough to make many of the young maids whisper and giggle behind lace covered hands.

Arya wished they would leave their table in peace. The constant comings and goings of those chattering hens were making Arya lose her appetite. Gendry could hardly take a bite of his meal he was so furiously blushing at the ribald and open advances of the working women. He looked embarrassed by the attention. Arya on the other hand had not been spoken to once that night and she was bored.

"How does one become a whore?" she asked as one of the girls sashayed out of earshot. Gendry already well into a few mugs of ale choked on the sip he had been taking. His cheeks turned an even more ruddy color, if that was possible. Arya waited patiently as he coughed up the foam he had swallowed wrong. She let him catch his breath, but waited patiently for her answer.

"Are you thinking of starting a new profession?" Gendry narrowed his eyes at her. He obviously did not trust this line of questioning. Arya rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course not," she snapped. "I'm just curious."

"I imagine it's the same reason someone takes any job. Need." Gendry's face pulled tight as if remembering some far off thing. Arya remembered in a rush that Gendry's mother had been a whore. She winced inwardly wishing she could take back her foolish question. Gendry had never asked her why people became Hand of the King. She racked her brain trying to think of a way to steer conversation away from sensitive subjects like long dead mothers and unhappy childhoods.

Before she could come up with anything other than the weather a dark haired girl swept up to the table and sat on Gendry's knee. Could she not see they were having a conversation. Gendry's face slid instantly into an easy smile and Arya bristled at his sudden inattention. One harlot waves his peaches at him and suddenly Arya doesn't exist. Arya cleared her throat, at the same time the whore began to talk.

"Hello handsome." Her voice was low and raspy. Gendry sat up straighter in his chair, Arya obviously going unheard. The whore leaned forward, resting her lips against Gendry's earlobe. "You looking to have any fun tonight?" she asked. Other girls had approached, but known had been so bold. Or so touchy, as Arya noted the girl's slender fingers running circles on Gendry's thighs. Arya stood up and slid away from the table. She suddenly felt like an intruder on a very personal moment, and she did not want to sit at the table anymore.

She saw a drunken man stumbling down the stairs to the rooms and changed her course to avoid an unwanted collision. She was almost around the dark corner to the back door when she felt her arm jerk backwards. Gendry stood there gripping her a little tighter than was comfortable.

"I wasn't going to go upstairs with her." Arya shook her head, she had no idea why he'd followed her to the back of the inn just to tell her that. Apparently the ale had touched his head a bit more than she'd first thought.

"I never said you were," she reminded him. Gendry's face was shrouded in the shadows and she wished she could see his face to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

"Then why'd you leave?" he whined. Sounding like Rickon when she'd taken one of his favorite toys. Arya opened her mouth to answer but then closed her mouth. Why had she wanted to leave so suddenly?

"I was going to get some air." She pointed behind her to the back door and the cool night that lay beyond. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. She had just felt like going somewhere else.

"Okay, but I wasn't going with her." Gendry's words were slurring together, and Arya suddenly remembered the sad, drunken king. She hoped this didn't become a habit for Gendry. The last thing she wanted to see was him become some drunken fool.

"Let's take you up to bed," she said. Arya slipped her arm behind his back to support his slowly tilting form.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked cheekily, and Arya couldn't help but laugh at his boyish tone.

"Don't you think you've had enough invitations for one night?" she asked him, remembering the parade of beautiful young women that had thrown themselves at her blacksmith.

"You can never have too many invitations," he informed her. There was enough light by then to see him wiggle his eyebrows at her. Gendry was a silly drunk, Arya was coming to realize. Very silly, indeed.

They had shuffled half of the way up the stairs when they had to stop to let Tom and two females with mussed hair and pink cheeks slip past them on the way down. Arya saw one of the girls wink at Gendry, and kiss him on the cheek with a loud smack before scurrying down to the noisy room.

"See?" Gendry crowed. "Those girls think I'm handsome." His voice was accusatory, but Arya had no idea what she was being accused of. Arya realized that taking care of a drunk was very much like taking care of a toddler.

"You are very handsome," Arya assured him, rolling her eyes at his ridiculous behavior. He pouted at her, apparently not drunk enough to ignore her patronizing tone.

"You don't think I'm handsome." Gendry seemed to be holding less of his own weight as this ridiculous conversation progressed. Arya was soon sagging under the lopsided form of her only friend.

"Yes I do." She needed to get this big lug of a blacksmith moving again.

"Then prove it." He wagged a droopy finger halfheartedly at her. She was tempted drop him and let him roll down the stairs, but she just sighed.

"How do I do that?" He was lucky she found him mostly amusing. Patience was not a trait Arya Stark was known for, and he was severly trying hers.

Gendry's eyes lit up, he motioned in what she assumed was supposed to be the direction of the girl downstairs."She kissed me." Gendry was accusing her of something, but she still didn't know what it was. Did he want her to kiss him?

She tipped him over onto the hay so that he was laying on his back limbs splayed out in every which direction. He grinned up at her, and proclaimed loudly, "I'm ready!" Gendry squeezed his eyes shut and puckered his lips into an exaggerated pout. She didn't make a move, maybe he would fall asleep before she would have to do anything. No such luck. His eyes blinked open full of hurt. He rolled over on his side, tucking his arm as a pillow beneath his head. He looked sad. Even if he was acting like a drunken idiot, she didn't want him be sad. She bent over and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. He sighed happily and drifted off to sleep, his lips quirked upwards in a soft smile.

The next morning Gendry woke groggily. His head ached and his stomach lurched, he informed her. She did not feel sorry for him, she was sore herself from carrying his drunken corpse every which way. He looked slightly embarrassed at that, but did not offer up any recollections of the previous night. Arya assumed he had lost those memories to the alcohol. Her brothers had told her how that could happen.

They were the only ones up in the inn. The men were all sleeping happily, like well fed dogs before a fireplace. It took a few minutes for their incredible luck to dawn on Arya. They could steal a few horses and be at Robb's wedding before the Brotherhood even roused themselves from their drink induced stupor.

Gendry's condition was a hindrance, but not so large of one that they couldn't work past it. They just had to get him down to the horses.

Gendry blinked at her through heavy lids. She was sure he had no idea what she was going on about, but he trusted her so he gathered up his things and followed her downstairs. They didn't run into any maids doing cleaning, and Arya supposed dawn wasn't a whore's busiest hour. They made it out the backdoor and were creeping around the corner of the inn towards the stables when they heard it.

A high pitched whistle, sounded from around the corner, not a signal to alert for escaping captives but a joyful lilting tune. She should have known better than to hope there wouldn't be anyone left to guard the mounts. She recognized the guard instantly, she'd heard that song countless times at Winterfell. It was [[Harwin]], who she'd known since she was a child. She felt only the smallest twinge of doubt before she settled her mind. She reached for Needle, hanging at her waist. Gendry grabbed her arm looking horrified.

"What are you going to do?" he asked in the quietest whisper he could manage. She looked at him like he was an idiot, and looked pointedly down at her blade and back at the oblivious guard.

"No," he insisted. "There will be another opening. We'll wait for a better time." His words pleaded with her, but she knew them to be foolish hopes. There was not likely to be another night with the whole Brotherhood so well sated with doxies and drink. She shook her head and tried to pull from his grasp.

"That's a man, a good man, an innocent man," he nodded to Harwin, "Who's done nothing more wrong than stand in your way, and you're going to kill him for it?" Arya could tell he wanted her to deny his claims, but she had no intention of doing so. Gendry could be so naive sometimes.

"I stopped believing in the goodness and innocence of men a long time ago." She stared directly into his eyes, not wavering in determination or conviction for a second. He stared back his face searching for something. Apparently he found what he was looking for. His face filled with sadness and acceptance. Arya sighed with relief. Good, he would let her do what needed to be done.

"I hope you find your family," he said and squeezed her arm. Arya froze wondering what that meant, and her moment of stillness gave Gendry enough time to shoot around the corner and into the open view of Harwin.

"Ho, Harwin!" Gendry called out in a sunny voice. "Tom was telling me last night you're the best swordsman within a hundred miles. I sincerely doubt that could be true, especially when you haven't ever lifted a sword against me." Harwin reacted with a defiant protest and challenged Gendry to spar against him. Arya watched Gendry's broad shoulders disappear around the corner to the front of the house.

She was frozen, crouched behind the corner of the inn running over what had just happened in her head. Gendry had just given her the perfect chance to escape, but he wasn't going with her. She didn't understand. They were supposed to be leaving together.

Apparently, he had changed his mind. She thought briefly about staying behind, staying with Gendry. That thought was tempting maybe they could find another way. She dashed that idea away quickly. She wasn't going to trade her freedom for the stupid ideals of some baseborn fool. He had only slowed her down anyways and now she could reach her mother and brother even quicker. She knew from the gossip that they were within a day's ride and at the wedding of Edmure to a Frey. She hadn't been able to glean the details of who was marrying who or why. That could all be sorted out once she got there. All she had to do was get there and everything would be fine. She would be fine and she could forget about that stupid boy.

She had a vague idea of which direction to go, and once she found the well traveled road that obviously led to the wedding navigating was easy work. She didn't know what to expect once she arrived, but chaos was definitely not it. There was a flurry of activity outside of the castle walls and Arya had no idea what was happening. She made sure to place Needle across her lap, well within easy reach and approached the first group of men she saw. They were packing up items onto wagons and horses. They behaved and looked like thieves but no one made moves to stop them so Arya supposed they weren't doing anything wrong.

"Is the wedding celebration over?" she called when her horse came within earshot. The men looked up startled. One of them burst out with nervous laughter, and they rest joined with slow chuckles. She did not like these men one bit.

"Aye," one of the men answered, nudging a neighbor with his elbow. "The celebration is long over." The men shared a knowing smile, and Arya felt herself go cold. She did not want to speak to these men, they were obviously Frey men and she needed to find her family. They would stay for a few days to help settle the new marriage, unlike the majority of revelers.

"Where can I find the Starks?" she asked. The men chuckled again. One pointed in the general direction of the walls. They were staying in the keep as guests. Good, Arya hadn't slept on a proper bed in ages. She rode on noticing as she approached the vast number of crows that circled the keep. What an ill omen for a new marriage. She didn't notice the heads until she was almost within earshot. She pulled up on her reins halting the horse in its tracks. The top of the wall was decorated with bloody heads. There were too many to count, but her eye was drawn almost instantly to the lone body on the walls. It was mounted like a hunting trophy arms outstretched. She felt the bile rise in her throat as she recognized her brother's armor topped by the head of her brother's wolf. The retched onto the ground next to her horse.

A kindly old lady looked up at her as she passed, smiling sadly.

"Tis right gruesome it is. Everyone of them Northerners slaughtered except the groom," the women felt the need to explain.

Arya tried not to sound hopeful as she asked, "Even the women?" The women glanced away but nodded.

All at once everything hit her. Mycah. Nymeria. Father. Bran. Rickon. Robb. Mother. Sansa captive. Jon at the wall. Gendry gone. She had no one. She had no where.

And in that moment, as she realized she had nothing in this world left to live for, Arya Stark breathed her last breath.

Cat didn't know what she was doing or where she would go, but when she showed her coin to the men at the docks and spoke the words Jaqen had taught her, people listened. They treated her as if she was someone, and she would follow that feeling to the ends of the earth.

AN: Sorry it took me so long to post the final chapter. I know this probably doesn't end the way everyone would want it to but hopefully you enjoyed reading it. If you did, or even if you didn't, please review! It means a lot to authors. I do have a general outline for a part 2 that will be much more AU and will break from the established events more than this.