(A/N: Just something that's been nagging me since last week. I hope you all figure out the time difference between snippets. And I apologize in advance if I got their ages wrong because I just made the timeline up and have no idea how old they really are, between the books and the show. If it seems off, I'm sorry. But you all know how this goes: GRRM is the man.)

Catelyn was awakened by someone shaking her left hip. Disoriented, she looked up and saw her lord husband sleeping soundly, both his arms encircling her body. She slowly disentangled herself from Ned and shifted to look at the small child standing beside their bed.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep, Mother."

Catelyn caressed the soft, red curls framing his face. "What is it, my sweet Robb? Are you not well?"

Eight year old Robb shook his head. "I am well, Mother. Just a bit scared of the thunder, that's all."

Catelyn smiled and signaled for him to come up the bed. "Come here, love."

She let the little boy lie between her and Ned, the boy instantly feeling safe from the booming sound of thunder and the loud pelting of rain around the castle. Ned stirred as soon as he felt the bed dip with the additional weight. He looked at his wife and raised a brow in question, but Catelyn only shook her head and pointed to the window. As if on cue, the loud clap of thunder sounded again and Ned immediately understood.

Kissing Robb's head, he said, "All is well, Robb."

As they were about to go back to sleep, they heard the sound of two more pairs of feet, scuttling down the hallway and into their bedroom. A scared-looking Sansa looked at her parents, pleading with her eyes for them to take her in too. Ned chuckled in amusement. "Come up here, little ladies."

Sansa slowly climbed up the bed and into her mother's arms. Robb scooted a little to make room for his younger sister. Arya, on the other hand, was not so subtle.

"Sansa was scared, Father! She wanted to cry, and I wanted to pull her hair because she was a coward!"

"I am not a coward! It was merely the loud thunder that woke me so, Mother! Were you not scared at all?" Sansa protested, snuggling closer to her mother for protection.

"Ha!" Arya exclaimed, hopping into the bed and into Ned's arms. "Sansa is a liar! She would have cried, she would have!"

"Hush now, love. We must all find sleep. It would be a busy day tomorrow for we must celebrate Mother and I's anniversary." Ned said, smoothing his large hands up and down the small of his daughter's back.

"This is a far larger bed than mine, Mother. We can fit the whole of Winterfell in here!" Arya exclaimed, clearly impressed by her parents' large four poster bed. Both Ned and Catelyn laughed at the youngest girl's observation.

"It is not that big, my love. Just big enough for our family to be in, altogether." Catelyn replied, smoothing down Arya's sleep-tousled hair.

Arya looked like she had a brilliant idea inside her head. She sat up and moved to sit on Catelyn's lap. "Maybe we should call Jon! Jon would still fit in here, wouldn't he, Mother?"

Catelyn's face fell, although the youngest girl did not seem to notice. Sansa, on the other hand, gave a little huff of displeasure. "Jon is not our brother, Arya."

Arya's face felt flushed from anger. "He is so!"

Ned pulled Arya back to his side of the bed. "Hush now, love. We must find sleep lest we find ourselves asleep during the feast."

Arya remained awake even after the rest have gone back to sleep. Ned felt his daughter's distress and tried to appease her. "Do not worry so, love. Jon is your brother as much as Robb is. He is my son, too, and every bit a Stark as you are."

"But why is he not a Jon Stark? And I hate Sansa for being rude to him! Jon is my favorite because he plays Knights and Ladies with me, and he lets me be the Knight and him the Lady! Oh I hate Sansa so!"

Ned chuckled. "It is not right to hate your sister. You and Sansa must learn to get along, for in the future, when your mother and I are gone…"

"You can't leave me!"

"Hush. If in the future, your mother and I are long gone, you and your siblings must look out for each other. There might be times when you need to save each other from evil and protect each other from harm. Remember that, my love. Now, close your eyes and sleep."

Arya slowly walked towards the bed. She touched the dark, wooden oak; running her fingers through the bedposts and tracing the carved patterns. At nine years old, she still found her parents' bed enormous in size.

"Come closer, Arya. Come and meet, Rickon."

She walked closer to her lady mother, careful not to wake the newborn in her arms. She crawled her way up the thick feather mattress and closer to Catelyn. Her mother put a finger to her lips, a signal that she must be as quiet as possible. Arya mimicked the gesture, much to Catelyn's amusement.

The young girl leaned closer to look at the sleeping infant. She wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "But he's ugly!"

Catelyn laughed, for she understood how children find newborns unattractive at first. "He may be red and wrinkly and noisy at first, but your little brother will grow up to be as beautiful and strong as you are."

Arya held out her little finger and giggled when Rickon grabbed it with his tiny hand. Catelyn smiled. "Rickon, meet your big sister, Arya. Arya, meet your little brother, Rickon. Protect him and look after him, my sweet."

"Mother, may I sleep on this bed tonight? I want to watch Rickon sleep."

"You love sleeping in this bed, I noticed. We might have to ask your father to sleep in your bed instead."

Arya stretched out beside them both, careful not to wake the baby. She yawned, and her eyes were starting to close. "Your bed is soft and warm, Mother. I'll just stay here and watch Rickon sleep…"

Arya's voice drifted away as she fell asleep beside the babe.

"Maybe I'll watch you both sleep, then. Sweet dreams."

"Do you miss them, Arya? Do you miss Mother and Father?"

The Stark sisters were lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sansa turned on her side to face her sister. "I miss them all the time."

"I miss Robb too." Arya replied softly.

"I miss those days when Bran still had use of his legs. Although I don't let him know that, out of courtesy. I'm still afraid to hurt his feelings, even after all this time."

"Bran knows it anyway. He's not stupid."

They were silent for a moment, their thoughts going back to the past when everything still had a sense of normalcy.

"Remember when we used to play hide and seek in the castle grounds?" Arya asked, her eyes twinkling with the memory. "Robb and Jon laughed at Bran because he could never outrun me. And Theon used to help me hide inside the stables, but Summer would always bark to help Bran find me."

They laughed at the memory, something from long ago that helped ease the loneliness they still carry in their hearts. How distant the memory has become; every remembrance of a happy Stark has soon faded along with the image of a younger Ned, Catelyn and Robb.

"I remember quite a few times when I ran into this chamber and hid under the bed," Sansa said, her voice soft and sad. "Robb was almost at my heels when I thought about this big oak bed. Without a second thought, I dove under and was surprised to find Rickon and Bran huddled together!"

"They thought of this bed first." Arya said, smiling.

"They did. What bright children they were. But tell me, where did you hide yourself? You didn't come back until it was dark. I remember Mother was furious because you were gone half the day."

"Before he left with Father to go hunting, Jon hid me inside one of the empty barrels. I lost track of time and actually fell asleep. I woke up before supper but not before Septa Mordane found me. I got a spanking so bad, I could still feel her slippers marking my arse!"

"You were a hellion!" Sansa exclaimed.

"That I was." Arya said with a grin.

"You still are."

"You love me anyway."

Arya gave an unladylike yawn. Sansa rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless, Arya. You can't even cover your mouth when you yawn."

"Sansa?'

"Hmm?"

"Will Willas be mad if you don't sleep in your chambers tonight?"

"I don't know. My husband is kind. But why?"

Arya yawned again, this time she covered her mouth just to please Sansa. "I want to sleep in this bed tonight. Will you stay here with me?"

"Of course."

After a moment, Sansa added, "You might want to claim this bed for yourself, Arya. You seem to like this better than your own bed."

A sleepy Arya responded, "Because this bed smells of happy memories."

"Arya…we should go back…"

Arya ignored the whispered plea, making sure she sucked on his collarbone hard enough to leave a mark.

"That's going to mark."

"I know, stupid. Now stop thinking and just kiss me."

Gendry didn't need to be told twice. He pulled her head closer and opened his mouth wider to deepen the kiss. He was rewarded with a gasp and felt her fingers thread through his hair. He was proud to know that he was causing this pleasure for Arya.

He pulled away for a bit and stared into her gray eyes. They could do this forever…him staring at her Stark grays and her staring at his Baratheon blues and they'd lose track of time.

"I love your bed."

"More than you love me?"

"Possibly."

Arya tried to get up and off the bed. "Fine. I'll leave you and my bed alone, then."

Gendry laughed and pulled her back in. "No…come here."

Arya let herself be pulled back into the middle of the spacious bed. She felt the mattress dip when Gendry rolled on top of her and started kissing her anew. He was a good kisser; his kisses made her feel lightheaded and almost to the point where she forgets her name.

But she never tells Gendry that.

Growing impatient, she put both her hands on his chest and pushed him until he was lying on his back and she was sitting astride. She started placing feather-like kisses down the side of his neck, making sure that he's watching what she's doing, and sucking on his pulse points. She loves hearing Gendry gasp.

There are many ways in which Arya Stark can make a man yield to her. Gendry taught her long ago that she doesn't need a sword in her hand just to make her feel powerful. One of the ways involve only her lips and tongue and Gendry would yield like Lommy and Hot Pie if they would be caught in the midst of a battle.

In between kisses, Gendry dared to ask, "Is there a possibility that your family and my family might be searching the entirety of Winterfell for us right now?"

Arya bit his lower lip before sucking it, earning a frustrated groan from Gendry. "There is that possibility."

"And do you think," he continues, as he lifts the hem of Arya's gown and skims his hand up the length of her leg. "that there is a possibility that I can get you out of this pretty gown of yours?"

"Yes." Arya replied, her voice now strained. "Who cares if you tear this gown. No one would miss it. Except Sansa, maybe."

Gendry put both his hands on each of her thighs and pulled her even closer to him. "And do you think there's a possibility that…"

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The pounding on the door startled them both. Gendry froze in the process of removing Arya's small clothes. Arya was faster to recover. She pushed his chest and whispered, "Gendry, quick! Get off me!"

Gendry groaned and rolled on his back. "Seven hells."

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Who is it?" Arya called out, afraid to find out that her brother, the King, was the one on the other side.

"HODOR!"

Gendry and Arya both scrambled to get out of bed and did their best to fix themselves. Gendry saw that Arya's hair was totally disheveled, but he chose not to tell her. Maybe he would make her pay a bit, for Gendry knew that he would be hard for the rest of the night just thinking about what they had been doing in bed moments before.

"Gendry!" Arya hissed, getting his attention once again.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"HODOR!"

Arya opened the door, expecting to find a giant of a man standing at the other side.

"Seven hells! Bran!" Arya exclaimed, punching her brother in the arm. "I thought you were Hodor!"

"Obviously, because I said Hodor!" Bran said in between laughter.

Arya folded her arms across her chest and shot out, "I'm glad you find this very amusing, both of you." She glared at Bran, then Rickon, who was hiding behind Bran's chair. "What do you want?"

"Gendry, Stannis requires your presence at the hall. The feast has not yet ended, mind you." Bran explained.

Gendry stepped away from behind Arya and took a regal bow. "Yes, Your Grace."

Rickon started to wheel Bran across the hall when Bran called out to them both.

"Your hair's sticking up in all directions, my lady."

Arya furiously ran her fingers across the length of her hair, glaring all the while at Gendry. "Why didn't you say anything, stupid?!"

Bran called out a second time, without even a backward glance. "And Arya? You might want to change your gown. That one's torn at the back."

Gendry opened his eyes to find Arya asleep on the chair beside the bed. Her brows were furrowed even in her sleep and there were dark circles under her eyes. He tried to reach out to her but felt a sharp pain on his right shoulder. He laid back with a groan.

"You're awake!" Arya was startled by his movement. Hesitating for a bit, she finally knelt by the bedside. Gendry saw that she was about to creep next to him but held back at the last minute and knelt instead.

"Does my smell repulse you so? I know I haven't bathed since yesterday." Gendry said with a frown.

Arya stared at him. "Yesterday? You were injured three days past. Today is the third day. Do you not remember?"

Gendry tried to recall the accident. His mind was a blur of events; he was at the training grounds…sparring with one of the knights…King Bran fell off his chair…the knight, seeing his temporary distraction, lunged at him…Arya screaming…

"Ser Darren was lucky to have used a blunt practice sword, or I would have slashed his head off with Needle!" Arya recalled, anger evident in her voice.

"Do not be angry with Darren. I was distracted by Bran falling off his chair. It was my fault."

"Would you rather I slashed the head of the King in the North, then?" Arya asked, her brow raised.

Gendry laughed and then coughed because his shoulder hurt like hell. "You would do no such thing."

Arya smiled as she gently smoothed hair away from his eyes. "Are you feeling comfortable? Would you like me bring up some food to eat? You must be famished."

"Have someone else bring it up. I want my not-so-lady wife by my side at all times."

Arya looked thoughtful for a moment. "We might not fit in the tub, my lord. I should speak with one of your men and have a tub made that would fit two people, side by side."

"Don't make me laugh, Arya."

But she did laugh, and Gendry thought it was the best thing he's heard in days.

"Come here."

"I might hurt you."

"You'll do no such thing. I'm a bull, remember?"

"A stag too. And stubborn."

"Come here."

"You're a bossy bit of sorts, you know that? Are you not well, my lord?"

"No. Just hungry."

"Then I should have someone prepare a meal for you."

"It's not food I'm hungry for."

"Were you really injured or just looking for an excuse to dally in bed all day and night?"

"I'd wager that you'd like that. Dallying in this bed. With me."

"Does it pain you much? Your shoulder, I mean."

"Just a slight pain, but nothing I couldn't bear."

"You just want me to do all the work."

"If I say please, would it make a difference?"

"Maybe."

"Please?"

"As my lord commands."

"Tell us another story, Mama!"

"The hour is late, my sweet. Maybe tomorrow."

"Just one last story and I promise to do well with my needlework in the morning!"

Arya laughed heartily. "You're worst at needlework, Brianna."

The little girl replied, "But they said no one's as bad at needlework as you, Mama!"

Arya frowned. "And who told you that lie?"

"Papa did!"

Arya turned to face Gendry and punched his arm, earning a yelp from him.

"But that wasn't a lie! You were the worst at ladylike tasks. You would have happily skinned a deer than mend dresses and breeches!"

"Mama, can we all sleep in this bed tonight?" asked the younger child.

"Of course, Rowan. This bed is big enough for all of us."

Both children were lying between Gendry and Arya. On some nights like this one, they slept in their parents' bed, much like Arya and their Aunt Sansa, Uncles Bran and Rickon did when they were younger.

"Mama," said a sleepy Brianna. "This bed is much larger than mine. We can fit the whole of Winterfell in here!"

This is a far larger bed than mine, Mother. We can fit the whole of Winterfell in here!

"I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Arya kissed her daughter's forehead. "You did no such thing, my love. I only remembered something similar that I said to your Grandmother Catelyn when I was still a child your age."

"Do you miss them? Grandfather and Grandmother and Uncle Robb?" asked Rowan, his face staring up at Arya. He looked so much like Gendry, it was shocking to see a smaller version of him running around the castle grounds.

"Every single day, love. I miss them everyday."

"And you, Papa? Do you miss them too?" Rowan asked, obviously not satisfied until every question in his head had been answered.

"Grandfather Ned was one of the most noble men I have ever known. And Uncle Robb was called The Young Wolf because he was every bit the ferocious warrior he is in and out of the battlefield. But there was only one other warrior who rivals The Young Wolf in battle."

All three heads turned towards Gendry. They were all curious to hear about this great man. Gendry grinned, "I might tell you a story about this fearsome warrior tomorrow."

Both children groaned in protest.

Gendry chuckled. "Come now, sleep. I promise to tell you the story tomorrow. I am weary this night, we must rest."

Both children were asleep in an instant. Gendry felt Arya thread her fingers into his. The chamber was dark, but he could see her gray eyes shining with curiosity.

"Who is this warrior you speak of?" she asked softly.

"Go to sleep, love. I'll tell you tomorrow."

"I'm not a child, stupid! Tell me now!"

"Sshh! You'll wake the children."

Arya let go of his hand and turned so Gendry could only see her back.

"Arya! Look at me!"

"Go to sleep."

Gendry grinned, despite Arya's displeasure at being rejected. "Do you want to know who it is, love?"

"No." Arya mumbled.

He gently tugged the end of Arya's braid and whispered, "Good night, my wolf lady."

Arya said nothing in response, but smiled when she heard him whisper,

"My forest lass...my Acorn princess...my fearsome warrior."