11

BRYNDEN

It was an ugly thing.

Brynden could fool himself into believing much of this world but with this he'd always been honest. As he sat on Walton Frey's bed, awaiting his coming death he allowed himself this last luxury.

The pendant he clutched had once been a gleaming silver piece, the likes of which men would haggle for. Or so he'd been told.

It's glory days had long since passed. Parts were chipped away and rust had attacked others. The life he'd led had not been one where precious things could survive unscathed, still the condition of the pendant shamed him.

He imagined few could see what he once had in the bit of jewelry he had all those years ago.

Are you thinking of the pendant or yourself?

The thought brought a chuckle from deep in his chest. His thumbs tried to trace the outline of what the pendant had once been shaped to be.

That of a swan. A majestic silver swan.

There were few things in life he'd ever held so dear besides his own kin. He'd had some bows in his life he'd esteemed enough to name. He'd kept several swords and more horses. Even more friends. Yet this was the only bit of luxury he'd ever allowed himself during all his travels. While Brynden knew he faced certain death by riding into the Twins he'd kept it with him anyways.

Jeyne had commented on it during their journey to the Neck. He'd tried to keep it from her but one night she awoke and found him doing much as he did now.

"It's special to you." She'd whispered through her suffering.

"It is." He'd answered, forcing a smile. "As are you child."

"No, not like me." The girl had found the strength to smile despite all her hardships. "Robb would look at me like that. Did someone give you that? Someone you loved?"

He remembered being quiet then, of clutching the pendant firmly and willing Jeyne to sleep. When she didn't and made to sit up and rob herself of what strength she had he was honest.

"Someone I love." He'd admitted. "Someone I will always love."

Jeyne had that truth from him at least. It was more than most others ever did. She was gone now of course. So were his parents. His brother, his nieces were dead as well and likely his nephew would follow them. Brynden had lost his king too but Sansa was still out there, waiting somewhere in the darkness for him to do what needed to be done.

When the knock came on his chamber door he brought the pendant up to his lips and kissed it lightly. He returned it back into his pocket before grabbing the bundle he'd prepared, slinging it over his shoulder and throwing his cloak on.

Such was how Walton Frey presented himself to his caller.

Walder Rivers stood armored and waiting when he opened his door. The bastard had brought four men-at-arms as well and Brynden half expected his deception had been discovered.

"It's time."

Those words made Brynden's heart beat powerfully within his chest. They meant the Vale caravan had been spotted nearing the castle.

Edwyn's plot was now put in motion. And his own soon after.

"I am ready."

"You better be, you look horrible." Walder said and Brynden didn't doubt it.

Brynden had barely slept the night before and had spent a day in a castle surrounded by people he'd rather gut than feign courtesy to. Night and day thoughts of what had befallen Cat and her son here had tormented him. Almost as much as the strain of all he needed to do and how many things could go wrong.

He'd been lucky in his mummery. Walton appeared to be a relatively unpopular Frey whom few wanted to interact with. The man's own wife had yet to seek him out and he'd only had one caller to his chambers the night before. A young serving girl asking if he'd had need of her. Apparently her arrival at such an hour was routine and it had not taken much imagination to think of what Walton would have needed of her. She'd been relieved when Brynden had told her he was weary and to leave him.

No relief for me, he thought, not tonight.

Unless this is finally the night it alls ends.

Their group passed servants and stewards but few armed men. The Frey strength left in the Twins was almost upon the walls and lining the route the Royce caravan would travel through the castles. The armed men awaiting Walder Rivers and his coming were the only ones Brynden saw during the whole journey.

The two men watched their approach uneasily, clutching their spears tightly. They had been charged with protecting some fairly valuable people. Within that chamber Brynden hoped the Royce men were awake and ready. Ready to help in the battle ahead.

It was a hope Walder Rivers clearly shared.

"Are they well? Awake?" The bastard asked.

"They are." One guard answered hesitantly. "But Lothar commanded that only he or Lord Walder could command their…"

"We're here to take the Royce men to Lord Walder." Walder Rivers lied. "So move aside."

To the guard's credit he was not fool enough to believe it.

Brynden saw it clearly from how the guard shifted his stance and how his eyes took stock of their group. The man stepped backwards as both Rivers and Brynden drew their swords and attacked.

It was quick work. Bloody work. Only but a taste of what the night would bring.

"Walton, it is almost good to see you." Ser Willem said as Brynden and the others marched into the chamber. Without a word one of Walder's men handed both Royce men their weapons. "I take it I'm free to use these?"

"Only kill those without this." Walder broke in, pointing to a bit of white cloth tied about his sword belt. The other men with them had also donned similar markers and one offered a bit to Brynden. "I'm going to take my place on walls. When the signal is given we take those first. Walton, you and the Royces…"

"We're to take the bridge gate. I know."

"Bloody well do it." Walder growled. "It's going to be hard enough taking this castle, if they flee across the bridge Lothar might be able to hold off the attack there. So keep that gate shut."

A trumpet sounded somewhere outside and Walder grunted to his men.

"They're crossing, let's go."

Brynden stayed back with the Willem and his man as the Freys filed out to begin their treachery. They had their own treachery to discuss.

"So what's the real plan?" Willem asked as he pulled his two blades and twirled them in his hands. "Which stout is for me?"

"Controlling that gate is key." Brynden said. "Have your men rally around it but get them up the stairs to the walls as soon as you can. Won't take the traitors long to realize your men are here to kill them all."

"And how the hell do we get up those stairs? If it's anything like the one I saw at the other castle it's open to fire from the walls and there were men guarding the top."

"The Blackfish will see to those guards." He watched the confusion form on Willem's face. "If you're quick about it your men should be up those stairs with little blood."

Another trumpet sounded and Brynden made to leave when the knight grabbed his arm.

"What about Jon? I couldn't ask about him with the others but you'll damn well tell me how he fares."

"He's in the dungeons. The safest place he could be for what we're about to do." He jerked free of Willem's hold. He'd spare the man any more details of what had befallen his friend. "Now come on."

Edwyn's plan had them meant for different tasks than they set to now. They were already in the western castle so Brynden led the two men to where the rest of the Royces would soon be appearing. As they stepped up to a stone archway and peered out Brynden saw the first of the wagons appeared, just the beginning of a long line ending its journey across the Frey crossing.

He saw spearmen all about the yard, with archers lining the landings and battlements further up. Should the battle start the men up there would be the true threat. One that needed to be dealt with.

"Stay in the shadows until the horn blows." He hissed to Willem, pulling a hood over his head and preparing to begin his part. "Good luck to you."

"Where are you going?"

"To find the Blackfish." He said simply.

As one wagon and a rider passed him Brynden crossed the yard towards the stairs. The lower part was walled all around and after climbing a short way he found a crossbowman standing at an arrow slit watching the wagons roll by. He was a young lad, yet to shave by Brynden's estimation. Green too, as he jumped to see Brynden coming, his eyes flicking down to the white cloth at his side.

"It's almost time." He said as he gestured to the man's white marker.

The lad's eyes fell to his own waist long enough for Brynden to pull a dagger unseen.

"Yes. Yes of course m'lord I'm just alone here and…"

The rest of the his words came out as a red gurgle. Brynden's slash across his throat had left a gruesome spray along the stonewall behind them. The man fell dead as Brynden wrenched Walton's cloak from his shoulders.

Next came the his tunic and if he didn't need it for the fight ahead Brynden would've torn the man's mail off as well.

"This is more like it." Brynden said to himself as he pulled another tunic from his bundle.

It bore the Tully trout proudly across its faded blue cloth. There'd been a good number of Tully guardsmen among those slain at the Red Wedding. Some of their killers had taken trophies and Walton had been one. Brynden had found this among the man's belongings and, as torn and darkened with blood stains as it was, he felt cleaner when he pulled it over his head.

The sorcery hiding his face from the world was helped by wearing Walton's clothes but if Brynden was about to die a he'd die a Tully.

It was a shame to throw Walton's cloak over himself again but it would only be for a short while. Time enough for one last charge. He hefted up the crossbow and was thankful to see it already cranked and ready when he heard it.

Far off, a low hollow noise started up.

Someone was blowing a northern horn.

Sansa's riders are attacking the other castle.

The battle will be on.

Other horns soon answered, some from just below him among the wagons. Through the arrow slit he saw the horsemen pulling weapons and flaps being torn away from wagon tops as archers sprang up beneath them. A castle guard shouted in surprise as he was cut down by one of the riders. Soon after the mayhem of battle began.

Brynden charged up the stairs, the wall to his left gave way to empty air and the carnage of the courtyard lay beyond. Arrows were flying down from the walls and parapets as the crannog bowmen shot their own up at the defenders. It should have been a slaughter but the Freys were a mess.

The idiots were fighting each other all about the castle, some archers were even firing on other Freys. Brynden guessed only half the men that could be fighting Sansa's were actually doing so.

It was madness

An arrow slammed into the wall behind him while ahead three spearmen barred his path, guarding the way up to the battlements. All bore the white rags marking them as part of Edwyn's plot yet their spears pointed down at him nonetheless.

"It's Walton!" He cried, holding up his own white cloth. "Let me pass! I must pass!"

Two foolishly dropped their guard and raised their spears. The third's eyes were locked upon Brynden's chest, for Walton's cloak had flown open. He wondered whether the man was more shocked by the Tully trout beneath or the crossbow he raised.

It didn't truly matter.

The spearman saw little more after Brynden loosed the quarrel. The bolt slammed into his chest with enough force he fell backwards, knocking him into the next man, pinning that one against the wall.

A good shot.

The third spearmen lost precious time to shock. Brynden didn't even need to pull his sword. As the man lowered his spear he was there, grabbing it with both hands and pulling hard. It put the man off balance enough for Brynden to drive him sideways and off the stairs themselves.

As that foe fell to his death the last spearman had freed himself from the corpse of his friend and pulled a dirk. A smart move in such close quarters, it made Brynden's work all the harder. How fast his foe proved to be only made it worse. The man latched onto Brynden's wrist with a firm grip, staying his hand before he could reach his own sword. All he could do was much the same, grabbing his attacker's wrist to hold the dirk at bay.

"My brother! You killed my brother you fucking shit!" The man spat in his face. "You traitor fuck!"

Brynden was slammed against the wall and a knee drove up and into his groin. He almost buckled and his arms jerked back in the pain. It brought the blade almost to his throat. The sorceress' bracelet was torn from his wrist as his attacker's grip forced it up and off. He watched it bounce off a stone stair.

Once. Twice. Then it was gone, down into the battle raging below.

Bugger me.

"Bugger me!" Brynden's would be killer cried out.

In the gleam of the man's halfhelm Brynden could make out his face. Well Walton's face but even to call it that was wrong as well. For he was changing again, the Frey's features melting away to display the true man beneath.

His enemy's fear took hold and he jerked backwards. It was all Brynden needed.

"I'm no traitor Frey."

He moved fast, the man still had his dagger at chest level so he caught the man's elbow in one motion, his wrist in another.

"I've always been a Tully."

He did just as Riverrun's master-at-arms had taught him as a small boy.

'Last man a knight will ever think to face on the battlefield is himself. You remember that Brynden.'

His teacher's words came back to him as he forced the Frey man's dagger up and backwards into his own eye.

"I always have." Brynden watched as the man stiffened, his mouth open in a comical surprised expression.

As he fell back, following his friend in landing far below in the courtyard Brynden finally pulled his sword and continued up the landing. His parts throbbed in agony but it was a small price to pay for what he'd just accomplished.

The battlements ahead were full of men dead or dying but even more were left fighting. Edwyn's men had largely taken this part of the wall yet confusion reigned as they watched their would be allies fighting all manner of Freys. He spun to face the outer wall and gazed over the parapet towards the other castle.

Parts of it were aflame and the sounds of trumpets and northern horns filled the night. He thought he could see fighting along those walls. Perhaps even a shout of Stark or Winterfell carrying across the water.

They made it, he smiled, Sansa's men made it in.

Now I just need to take this castle with one column of men and some swamp archers.

The sound of boots upon the stone steps behind him made him turn and prepare to face reinforcements. He was pleasantly surprised to see they were of a friendly kind.

"Blackfish?" Willem gaped at him from the entrance to the battlements. Behind the knight were a half score of his own men. "By the warrior how the fuck did you get in here? How the fuck did you get up here?"

"Later." Brynden jerk his head towards the Freys. "We'll have a harder go of it when they realize we've taken the stair so let's get to clearing these walls before they do."

"You. Go back and get some of those archers up here." Brynden pointed at one unknown face before grabbing at the bow of another. "Is that a long bow?"

"Yes ser it is, made by my…"

"You'll be sharing that with me for a moment, I won't keep it long."

The man surrendered his bow and quiver easily enough as Brynden led the group towards the fight. A guardsman helping a wounded comrade took notice of their approach and Willem rushed forward, his first slash pinning the man's sword against the wall while the second cleaved into his neck. Shouts answered that killing and more Frey warriors began moving towards the small group. Brynden let the Royce men charge by him, they could handle that fight.

For he'd been searching for a specific target along the walls and now he'd found him. Walder Rivers was just around the bend of the wall they stood on. He was pointing below and shouting at a group of his archers, directing the deaths of men below.

Brynden notched his arrow, and made to stand upon the parapet. It was the act of a foolish green boy. Friend or foe could have shot him down just as easily. Yet Brynden wanted the clearest shot possible.

And I want him to see me.

"The King in the North!" He roared, spittle flying from his mouth. "The King in the North!"

Even through the battle the Frey bastard heard it. Walder Rivers stared across at him even as Brynden loosed his arrow.

Hoster used to tease him about preferring the bow to swords but Brynden had never been willing to abandon it. Cat had always been delighted to see the shots he could make during one of their hunts. The picture of that sweet child clapping and laughing was lost to one of her bloodied and screaming.

That all fell away as Walder Rivers himself fell screaming into his men. The foul man continued to wail while grasping in vain at the arrow lodged with his chest. The archers about the dying man were pointing at Brynden but he didn't care.

He wanted to continue watching but was denied that.

Someone pulled him backwards, off the parapet to land hard upon the battlements.

"How dare…" Brynden started to curse as he heard the arrows fly by overhead.

"Sorry ser! Truly! Ser Willem told me to!" The young man he'd taken the bow off of raised his hands in fear. "Said if you died he'd bloody kill me next!"

Brynden grunted and saw Willem and his men quite outmatched fighting a larger group of Freys.

"Here." He offered the lad's bow back to him. "Pick off as many of those archers across from us as you can. I go to repay Willem for his discourtesy."

His sword was drawn and he was charging towards the fight before the boy could say any more.

Hoster's voice came back to him.

'Being able with a bow is all fine and good Bryn, but what if it comes to a real fight?'

He flung a faltering Royce man back and cut at his attacker. His sword crashing against his foe's shield.

'A fight where you can't be far away but right amongst the blades?'

The man was favoring the gash Brynden had left in his leg when his upstroke cleaved half the poor bastard's head off.

'What if it comes to real blood?'

A killer was still struggling to pull his poleaxe out of the shoulder of the Royce man he'd killed when Brynden leapt behind him, laying a blade to his throat. He spun the man backwards towards the Freys converging on him, jerking his blade savagely.

Blood splattered across his face and tunic as the foe charged forth.

"Then I'll get bloody."

And he got bloodier still.

GHOST

The blood was all around him.

Blood and dying men and men who would die but did not know it yet. He smelt the fear and excitement among the men who did the killing. The fear of the ones who did the dying. Then there was all the noise, all the horrible man noise. Their growls and cries, the harsh clanging of their metal teeth and the whistling of their flying ones.

He was in the den where his brother had been killed. Or was is it the other across the water? That one held a part of him, it held pain and fire and sometimes he forgot he was a wolf.

Sometimes he'd be pulled to a dark place where only pain existed.

He didn't want to go there. Being beside the girl was where he wanted to be. Protecting her, comforting her when he smelt the fear growing. The pain in the dark was that much worse because he could escape to be with her.

But when he heard the girl's pack start fighting within the hollow mountain he'd left her side. She was with good men. Men who pulled their metal teeth when danger came near her.

He'd followed their charge through the den's entrance. He'd had to jump over dead men and horses to be where he was now, in the center of a great space of killing. Around him rose the great flat cliffs where the men's whistling teeth came biting.

But it was his time to bite.

The flesh of the man's leg ahead filled his mouth as he tore it from the bone. He would not eat now, this was not a time for eating. The man tried to cut him with his metal tooth and missed so he took one the man's arms as punishment.

That man would die but there were more. He could smell the men he would kill. The girl's men smelled of the swamps and the long walk they'd made. Their enemies smelt like the hollow mountain and the river water.

A man who stank of fish was cutting a swamp man so he attacked that one next. He came from behind, leaping up and biting at the soft exposed neck. The crack and instant flood of warm blood finished the kill before he'd even landed again.

The swamp man was bleeding. The smell of it thick on him and but there were more prey about and no time to lick the man's wounds. He needed to find more to kill when something stopped him.

The swamp man's growls.

"I see you."

The man clutched at his wound, fighting the bleeding that came from there. Strange green eyes stared at him, challenging him.

"Man and wolf...I see you Jon…don't be afraid…you'll see too…"

The strange eyes and growls confused him. Made him feel like someone else was under his skin.

Pain filled his mind then. The burning was horrible. The pain everywhere. The dark around him was wet and hard things wrapped around his paws. But they weren't his paws anymore. They had become man paws and one was agony. It burned so badly he wanted to gnaw it away.

He didn't want this body. He wanted to be free of it. Free of the pain.

He screamed.

And when his howl ended the swamp man lay staring at him still. There was still life left in his stare though, still breath in his body.

"Jon we'll come for you. Just don't lose yourself yet…Jon…"

The growls meant nothing. This was not the man he sought and it was too dangerous to stay with him. Whistling teeth landed near and men still fought.

So he left the bleeding thing.

The girl's men were on the cliffs now and men fell now and again, their crunching bones echoing loud within his ears. That fight was not for him. He wanted to hunt here, not on the cliffs.

There was another den entrance ahead and the brother's killers were fighting about it. A row of men with long, sharp teeth were stabbing at the girl's men. More killers hid behind the ones stabbing, sending the flying teeth forth from wooden flat mouths. Any man who tried to break their pack fell.

He could hear and smell men fleeing from the cliffs, behind their den walls to this gate and then away. Running to the other mountain across the river. If they ran so far he could not kill them.

They could run to the dark place and make the pain come again.

So he would help the girl's men.

There was a wooden den near where the men fought, where the smell of horses was strong. It was burning in parts but the top still stood and it was higher than the stabbing long teeth. More wooden things were near it and it was those he used to climb, to leap upon the top of the horse den.

His prey was ahead of him but the leap would be far. It could be too far.

He backed away from it and the wood den groaned beneath. The flames from below began to claw upwards. Hot against at his legs, singing his fur. The thought of burning started to push him away, back towards the dark again.

He pushed back. He saw where he must go and ran.

Ran until the horse den ended and leapt. His paws felt only air as he flew over the girl's men. He chose his prey as he flew over the killers.

The man saw him too and screamed, the sound doing nothing to stop his attack.

The men with their flying teeth trying to run or bite him. Men like these had killed his brother. They needed to time to put their teeth into the wooden mouths. His teeth were at the ready.

He was fast, darting back and forth, biting and tearing, filling the air with as much blood as was in his mouth. Until the world around him was a blur of screams and blood.

The backs of the men with the long teeth were easy to attack. The girl's men were soon among him, adding more death to the air and earth.

They left him behind as they pushed into the den mouth. Left him to feel the dampness of the earth beneath his paws. The blood was all around him here.

Something shook him and he jumped, snarling. Warning it away. But there was nothing warn. No man was there to touch him.

Man growls filled his ears but the ones fighting were not so close to do so. Then he was shaking again and the pain filled everything.

"Jon Snow." A man growled from somewhere in the dark. "Say something you bastard."

"He's dying Jon, let him do so in peace."

"No he's bloody not Marq. Not the last one, not with me here." The growls came from a filthy, furry man in the dark. He was above him, small light flickering across his face. "That's it lad, not here. This place has taken enough of our sons, it won't be taking you."

More fire filled the room and he howled at the memory of the pain. He wanted to run, to jump away from it but these men were keeping him in it.

"I've got the chains off the others but I think more guards are coming." A new man had come with more flames. He held a bloody tooth. "We've only four blades between us."

"Then that's how many we'll have to do for them Olyvar." The large man growled. He knew this man. He'd been father's friend. "I could do for some more killing before this night's done. Help me get him out of here before they send more. "

With that the men began to paw and lift him upwards. His back and hands screamed even louder than his dry throat could. He was carried out of the darkness but the agony followed.

Whenever he'd left the darkness he'd left the pain behind.

He'd left his name behind.

So he did so again. He reached for his friend.

And the wolf stood again in the blood soaked battleground. Watching the girl's men running towards the stone trail over the river. Where the darkness was.

The wolf could save the one he sought from the darkness. So he ran to the stone trail, following the sounds of death.

For the killing could last for longer.

Much longer.

SANSA

How much longer?

How much longer can this madness last?

Sansa twisted her horse's reins in her hand as she stared out upon the Twins, from where Maege and she bore witness to the assault.

Well, witness to little truly. Torches and flames lit up parts of the castle ahead but she could make out little from where she was.

I can't even tell if we are winning.

"How long has it been?" She asked, of the score of mounted men about her it was the lady who answered.

"I would say just under two hours." Maege answered, her face grim. "Longer than I'd hoped."

Sansa couldn't believe that. It had felt like an eternity since the whole thing had started.

Her heart had suffered greatly during all of this, jumping several times as the attack against the Twins unfolded. First as the Royce wagons entered the castle, her fearing of their discovery all along. Then when the Freys signaled for her men, disguised as their own, to follow the wagons within. The worst had been when the war horns had begun to blow.

That had meant her riders within had attacked the gate. It sent the rest of her army rushing forward from the darkness. Some had fallen behind the initial charge, finally risking the lighting of torches to escape the darkness they'd spent hours shrouded in.

"Fools." Maege had said. "Put them out!"

It had been too late and Sansa had cried out to watch some of those poor men struck by arrows from the castle walls. The sounds of their dying had been horrible. Even those who kept charging suffered such fates. The throng of men charging across the drawbridge had been met with arrows and rocks as well. The light from the castle had let her watch as those who fell were shoved into the moat to make way for others following behind.

Some still living as they disappeared under the water.

Howland and Galbart had led her army's drive through the gate. Those two rushing forth to join Jon and Uncle Brynden in that place which burned and bled before her. Even Ghost ran within to join the thousands of her men fighting and dying in those accursed castles. A howl or two had reached her ears and she imagined Ghost in terrible peril.

Her people falling and dying for her.

All while she watched.

"It's quieting your grace." Maege added. "I hear less than I did."

"Truly?" She asked hopefully. "The battle is ending?"

Maege nodded but Sansa couldn't quite believe it. In her heard the horns and trumpets still blared. The screams and yells echoing even louder.

Yet she slowly realized Maege was right. Some battle still raged somewhere in the night, far and distant. Upon the walls she spied some movement yet none of it frantic or hurried. All much different than it had been.

"I think our men have the battlements." Sansa pointed up. "That was the plan wasn't it?"

"It was." The lady answered. "The battlements and gate, then the bridge to aid the Royces."

"Riders your grace!" One her guards shouted, pointing at some dark shapes moving from the castle gate towards them. "Form up!"

Her mounted protecters quickly encircled her while a few brave men rode forward, to deflect any attack.

There was to be none though. For the men riding towards them flew the Stark banner. It's white backdrop stained red at places.

"Queen Sansa!" A Stark guardsman she knew to be named Rodwell hailed them. "This castle is secure!"

A small cheer went up from her men and Sansa almost yelled in joy herself. For the castle to be secure meant there'd be less death, her men would suffer no more.

"I have been asked to escort you within." Rodwell continued, turning his horse. "If you would follow us."

She gladly did. As she rode a smile stretched across her face.

We took the Twins, she thought, my army took the Twins.

Everyone said no one could take the Twins but we did.

Her joy was short-lived for as they rode closer to the castle the brutality of their victory became evident.

She had not prepared herself for how many bodies there would be. For how much blood and death had come from what she'd willed. Dead men lay all about as Sansa rode through the gate of the Frey castle. Bodies pierced with arrows or hacked horribly. She sought Maege's comfort but the lady was riding at the head of the group, her hand upon her mace. All the other men shared dark expressions as they took in the carnage and Sansa began to feel nervous.

They'll hate you for this, she thought, they made you a queen and you brought them this.

Within the courtyard it was even worse. Scores of bodies were strewn about on the ground, others hanging from the stairs and battlements. Many and more bore the twin towers of House Frey upon their cloaks but that offered little comfort. She feared for how many were her own disguised warriors.

Some of her losses were plain already.

Men bearing the Stark direwolf, Mormont bear, Glover fist, even the Reed's lizard lion, all were represented among the slain.

She worried at how many there were laying like this beyond the courtyard. Many of her men had survived the Red Wedding only for her to lead them back here for vengeance.

Men who'd spent much of the war fighting for the Starks while I did nothing in King's Landing.

And tonight I did nothing while they died here.

"Oh gods…Torvald."

Maege's pained voice cut through all that.

The lady had stopped her horse above one of her own dead warriors. The body was of an old man, doubled over with his pale hands still clutching a spear through his middle.

"You got what you wanted you old goat." Maege shook her head. "Damn you for it."

"My lady?" Sansa asked, somewhat shocked.

"I grew up with him. He was a guard in my father's days…older than he had any right to be when he showed up to march south with your brother." Maege chuckled as she wiped at her eyes. "Said he wouldn't stay behind for one last war. I told him to go home and look to his family…to enjoy his last days with his children's young ones. He said he'd rather die a Northman."

Despite herself Sansa pictured the old man surrounded by small children, carrying them about upon his shoulders like father would carry her as girl. It was a hard thing to reconcile with the bloody corpse which lay below. She knew nothing of this man beyond Maege's words but she had to fight back tears anyways.

"Oh Maege…Maege I'm sorry…"

How many others?

Her eyes drifted over the dead, old and young amongst them.

How many other grandfathers have fallen here? How many fathers or brothers? Sons?

Cousins?

"The Queen in the North!" The shout cut her off.

It had come from above her. A man standing upon the wall looked down at them and raised his sword before yelling again.

"The Queen in the North!"

"Victory!" Another yelled from beside her. "Justice!"

"The Queen in the North!"

More men all about the yard and fortifications took up the call. They began banging their spears against the ground as they shouted. Others clanging their weapons against shields as they cheered her arrival to the castle.

They fought and won this castle, she marveled, they're the ones who died for it.

Yet they cheer me.

She waged her own battle against breaking under it all. Her father wouldn't have cried. Nor would've Robb. They'd have been strong so she struggled to be like them.

Sansa held her head high so her men could see her pride in them.

"I would see this castle." Sansa said to one of her guards. "If you would help me?"

Soon strong hands aided her in dismounting and men in the courtyard bowed as she turned to face them. Some were wounded and others splattered with blood and gore. Yet she looked at each and did not show weakness.

It was the least she could do.

"I want our dead seen to as quickly as possible. They are to be treated as the heroes they are."

"I'll set men to it you grace." Maege nodded and began to give such orders when she suddenly paused. Her gaze locked on something further ahead.

Another man had entered the courtyard through the bridge gate, stepping over bodies at brisk pace. His face was as stained with blood as his Tully tunic was. Sansa could not contain her join when she recognized him.

"Uncle!" She cried out as she ran forward, stepping over a body to get to him quicker.

Brynden Tully was once again the image of himself, a smile pulling upon his face as she closed upon him. Sansa threw her arms around the man before he had a chance to stop her.

"I'm in no state to be hugged by a queen but I'll not argue girl." Brynden grumbled as he returned her embrace. He smelt terrible and trembled slightly as she held him.

"I was so afraid. So scared for you. Are you well?" She eyed his face, it bore some marks of battle but could see no worse upon the rest of him.

"Aye, I'm well enough." He said grimly. "I put a good number of Freys in the ground for your mother."

When she released him he surprised her by grasping her hands and pulling her back into a second embrace. This one almost feeling desperate.

"I'm sorry girl, it's just a good thing to hold family after being here. Forgive an old man this." He whispered, his face full of sadness and his eyes elsewhere.

"You have my love uncle, always that."

He gave her a small smile and a final squeeze before releasing her. Maege had joined them now and he held out his hand to her.

"Both our prayers were answered ser. It's a good thing to see our friends after a night such as this." Maege smiled but her words did not raise the knight's spirits any.

"What news have you heard?" He asked them.

"Little." Sansa said truthfully.

They had won, that much she knew.

But of details of the battle they had heard nothing. Nor of their losses.

Nothing of Jon.

Brynden nodded.

"We have captured several Freys, including Lord Walder. Ser Willem took a party to free the hostages held in the dungeons and reports all are being seen to. Apparently they didn't need much saving, the Greatjon and the others had staged their own escape attempt when they heard the ruckus." Brynden shook his head. "The fool was barely unshackled before he joined the battle."

Maege laughed and Sansa remembered the fierce, almost frightening lord who had visited Winterfell in her youth. Her uncle seemed to puff up like the Greatjon then before loudly making another proclamation.

"We hold both castles and the bridge securely you grace! The Twins and the Crossing are yours!"

Brynden's words sent up another cheer of joy in the courtyard.

It's for mother. For you Robb.

She embraced Maege who was laughing happily, the woman had shared in so many of her worries that she must share in Sansa's joy. It was when Sansa turned back to her uncle she saw his face was still grim.

Her next question was one she feared to have answered.

"And of our losses?"

And then his expression darkened further.

"It was not a bloodless battle. I fear almost half the Royce men dead or wounded. Lord Reed is in a bad way…"

"How bad?" She asked, fearing what the Howland's loss could mean. She valued him so.

"He'll live, unlike many others. We lost scores taking the castles…the worst was the bridge." Brynden's eyes were on Maege then. "That tower cost us dearly."

The tower sitting upon the middle of the bridge had been a terrible thing to consider taking during the assault. Whoever attempted it would have to charge across an open bridge which gave archers a clear field to loose upon them. Galbart Glover had asked the honor of attacking it, promising to shout out Robb's name as he led the charge.

"Of Galbart?" Maege asked.

Her uncle shook his head and Sansa's hand went to her mouth.

"Galbart Glover was a good man. A brave man. He did his duty and he did not suffer your grace."

"Oh Galbart…" Maege closed her eyes.

The pair had fought alongside Robb from the beginning. It was thanks to them both she even had an army to command.

"We will do him the honor of returning him home." Sansa tried to sound strong but this loss was great. "I swear it."

The man had been great counsel and loyal to the end. She swore the Freys would pay. They would surely pay for the loss of more good northmen. Losses she still did not know the full extent of.

Worse was that Brynden still had not mentioned Jon. And why he hadn't filled her with dread.

"Of Ser Jon?" Lady Maege asked the question before she could. The woman was priceless to her.

And Brynden's answer a gift from the gods.

"He lives."

He lives!

The joy the words gave her was instant. She glanced behind her uncle half expecting to see Jon walking towards her. When he wasn't there she looked to the bridge gate.

Then the stairs. Then the walls.

It took her a moment or two to realize how her uncle's voice had sounded. The toneone she only heard from him when something was wrong. Her desperate searching of his face was too much for him.

He hung his head.

"We expect he will live. The Freys…they wanted answers of the man. He could have fed them anything but gave them nothing." The knight paused before finally meeting her eyes. "I misjudged him Sansa. I thought the worse of him and I regret that. I hope I have the chance to tell him so."

"Take me to him." She commanded. "Now."

"As you wish." He said as he offered her his arm.

As they walked across the bridge and through the halls of the Twins she saw much but grasped little of it. The journey was a blur or men bowing, cheering, crying out pain or merely laying unmoving in her path. She passed them all, stepped over the ones upon the ground, all as if in a daze.

She could not keep her thoughts from Jon.

Unspeakable horrors kept jumping into her mind.

They expect him to live, she thought, why is it not certain he will?

She had let him come to this. Whatever happened to him was her fault. They came to a doorway where she saw something which shook her from her fog. For Ghost lay beside the door, his white coat stained red and looking quite miserably. He raised his head just long enough to see it was her, then laid it down mournfully.

Brynden made to open the door but stopped just short of doing so.

"I would warn you this is not something I'd have you see…"

"I would see him. I must. Please."

He nodded and they entered the room. The first things she saw was a table with a basin sitting atop of it which was full of bloody cloths. Then her eyes found the bed and the form of the man upon it.

And she screamed.

Her cry sounded like someone she did not know. Her hands went to her mouth and she rushed forward to the bed. Jon lay on his stomach, covered only from the waist down by a blood stained sheet. His back was a bloody mess with long, ugly slashes crisscrossing it. It was all so horrible it took her a moment to realize it was worse than she thought

It felt as if cold fingers had reached into her chest when she saw his hand. It was bandaged so that she could not even discern there was a hand still there. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and clammy, and sweat covered him.

But he was breathing still, a rasping, weak sound yet it came again and again.

Like Jeyne, she thought, please not him too.

She willed him to open his eyes. To see her there.

"Jon…I'm here Jon…" Sansa whispered as she knelt to his side. "I have you now."

His eyes did not open and he showed no sign of hearing her.

"Milk of the poppy." Her uncle was beside her, his expression filled with concern. "I fear we have little enough but for now he rests."

"He was lashed…"

"Yes. Forgive me, I could not prevent that. Nor what was done to his hand…you would ask me so I will tell you. They held it over the coals." He paused, the look of horror upon her face must have stopped him. "They let it burn."

"Is it still there?"

"The maester said it will mend but the scars will be terrible." Brynden said. "He should have use of it in time."

"Where is he then? Why is he not here tending Jon?" She asked angrily and looked accusingly at the man.

Jon lay here suffering and was alone when they'd arrived. Her uncle should have had the maester there beside him. Caring for him and speeding his recovery.

"Sansa, many men are wounded. Many worse than him. I don't believe Ser Jon the kind of man to ask the healer see to his comfort over their lives."

She wanted to scream at him. To tell him they could all wait. That more would have died if it hadn't been for Jon volunteering to be sent here. To be tortured. Her anger was so she wanted to blame her uncle, her men, even the maester for Jon being there.

Everyone but yourself, she realized, none of them gave the command.

They didn't send him here.

Suddenly it was herself she was angry at. For the reasons she'd just thought and for how easily she sought to place blame on those who did not deserve it. Her uncle was right of course, Jon wouldn't want others to suffer for his behalf. The healers should tend to those who needed it desperately.

Caring for him could fall to someone less skilled. His bandages would need to be changed and his wounds cleaned. She could do such things, she could care for him herself until the healers were free to do so.

How long will that be?

You don't even know how many are wounded, what supplies we have to help.

You can't rule this castle without knowing this and more.

You can't stay here.

Those were the thoughts of a little girl who had no cares or duties. Her army had taken a castle and her bannermen freed. There were things to be done.

"How long will he sleep?"

"For some time. A few hours, maybe more if he's fortunate." Brynden paused but a look from her bid him to continue. "Burns are ghastly wounds, he will suffer."

She reached out and gently ran her hand down the side of his face, the skin cool despite his sweat. It troubled her but Sansa knew what she must do.

Jon had made her a queen, she would be one for him.

"Where are the wounded being cared for?" She asked.

She would make her presence known there first. To show respect and honor for their sacrifices. To give them hope or comfort before the end.

"The great hall of the other castle."

"If you would escort me there I would be seen and offer what help I could, I owe them that much at the least. If the head steward of this castle survived the siege I would have him questioned on the state of supplies here. Then I'd have our men confirm those supplies."

Her meaning was clear, if the man could not be trusted it would be good to know soon.

"I'll ask Maege to set men to it."

"Also, if enough are able, I'll want to see the men we've freed as soon as possible. I imagine within the next hour." She rose from Jon's side to take stock of the weary older knight. "I know you must be exhausted ser but I would have you awake for the next few hours at least. There is much to do."

"I wouldn't sleep if you ordered me to. A cup of wine or three with the Greatjon will be a fair reward for that." He smiled and spared a glance to at Jon.

Sansa would not do the same for she feared her strength would leave her if she did.

"I will return here to tend to Jon after all else is done, I will be the first thing he sees when he wakes, no matter what."

The knight offered his arm and they left the room.

Her fighting the urge to run back the whole time.

ARYA

Haven't they seen dead bodies before?

Arya had already been annoyed at the slow pace the others were taking. Now they seemed content to stop at every hanging body they came across. Like dead bodies weren't common enough in these lands.

It took them long enough to realize who the dead men hanging from the trees were. She'd figured it out after the third one but hoped if she kept her mouth shut they'd move quicker.

She was wrong.

"Mordane, do not stray too far ahead." Brienne called up to her. She was doing her best to hurry the others along. "Just because these may be the men who did those crimes at the Saltpans doesn't mean there aren't more."

I hope there aren't, she thought, I hope they are all on trees somewhere.

Brienne rode up beside her while the old septon droned on about the history of the inn they were riding to. Going on about this owner and that owner and what happened to them.

"He doesn't know everything," She said quietly.

"I don't believe the septon claims to." Brienne shrugged as she had her horse match the pace of Arya's. "Yet he knows more about these lands than most."

"I could've told you there was an inn at the crossroads. I've been there."

"With the Hound? When he killed his brother's men?"

"He only killed the one." She said, eager all at once to tell Brienne the tale. "I killed the Tickler and their stupid squire. The Hound was so drunk they almost killed him. If it wasn't for me…"

"Lower your voice." Brienne cut her off before looking out into the trees where another hung man swayed in the breeze. "I do not doubt you my lady, but for the same reason I still call you Mordane I hope the septon is right and the inn run by different people now. The fewer people who know who and where you are the better for us."

"You mean the Brotherhood?" She asked. "They aren't our enemies, I rode with them for awhile. Remember I told you Beric…"

"I do remember but even the Lightning Lord sought to ransom you for coin and I hear little of him these days. More talk of a hangwoman called Lady Stoneheart. Who is to say who she would ransom you to?"

"I won't be a prisoner again." Arya declared and Brienne nodded.

"Nor would I allow such a thing to happen." The lady warrior leaned in towards her and began to whisper her next words. "And I'd hear what the septon knows of these lands, before we leave him at the inn."

That surprised Arya. Brienne had been treating the septon as if he hadn't lied to her back at the island. Like she'd forgiven the septon for lying. Brienne must have seen her surprise so she continued on.

"I believe him a good man but you are right, we can not trust him. For the journey I plan on making I cannot allow him to follow...or slow us down."

Hearing that Brienne wanted to move quicker was a huge relief. Knowing she understood who was slowing them down helped too.

Of course she sees that, Arya thought, she's not just another stupid lady.

"But if we leave him behind and the Faith finds him he'll tell them we're heading to the Vale."

"Which is good for us, since I intend we strike for the Neck instead." Brienne said. "Those lands are far but I believe them to be the refuge we need. It would be hard for others to track in and the people there were staunchly loyal to your family."

Arya became excited at the idea of heading to the North. The Vale was nothing to her really.

"My father always said Howland Reed was his greatest friend."

She wanted tell Brienne more of what she knew about the Neck when the lad shook her head quickly.

"There will be time to talk of this further but say nothing to the others. Only you and I know this. I have not yet decided to tell Ser Hyle and Pod I will inform when it is time."

"Pod? Why him?" Arya looked back at the quiet squire and when he caught her gaze his eyes fell. The swollen eye and cut lip she'd given him probably the reason why.

"Because you do him wrong, he is a brave and good lad. He sought your sister for a good cause and did not balk at seeing you to safety." Brienne was no longer whispering and seemed disappointed in her. "And he is not the man who killed your father."

Ilyn Payne did and the boy's a Payne.

Good enough for me.

They'd been two days riding from Quiet Isle when Hyle had let the name Payne slip. The boy had stuttered he'd squired for the Imp and that made him bad enough. When she'd learned who Pod's cousin was all she saw was Ilyn Payne pulling forth Ice and closing in upon her father.

Why she'd used fists and not Needle Arya still couldn't say.

"My lady!" The boy had tried to shield himself from her blows but she was all tears and rage.

"My father…he killed…my father…"

Each punch brought another accusation until she'd been lifted up and thrown away into the dirt. Brienne had been as shocked at the others but had acted quicker than the knight and septon.

Since then the squire had kept his distance and that suited her just fine.

The only person in the group she thought was worth their horse was Brienne. The woman was strong, fearless and led these men because she was the best to do so. No one bothered her about acting a lady and she never bothered Arya to act the same.

Hyle and the septon had given her strange looks when she'd traded the dress the brothers made her wear for a boy's riding clothes. Hyle had said she was meant for dresses and comfort. He was always coming about her when Brienne was off somewhere. Full of little jokes and comments, always trying to make her laugh and had even brought her some flowers one morning.

Something about him just bothered her.

Brienne's right not to tell him, she decided, it be better if it was just us two anyways.

The thought of that happening made her happy to arrive at the inn.

The Crossroads was different from how Arya remembered. Instead of whores there were small children about, the oldest a girl about her age, the youngest about two and naked. Most hung about the inn's porch but passed the stable noise came from what sounded to be a forge. She had her hood up over her face just in case any might remember her yet none looked familiar to her.

Brienne glanced to her and Arya gave a quick nod to signal all was well.

After that the lady and the others began to haggle with the one girl over the state and cost of the inn, it was all so boring Arya dismounted.

She knew Brienne wanted her to stay close but she'd spotted what looked to be a half eaten apple near the edge of the stable. Still good enough for a horse and she figured to reward her own for being such a good ride.

"No one thinks of you lot first." Arya whispered to the beast as she fed it the apple, stroking its snout the whole time. "No one."

Suddenly someone else had joined the others in speaking about the inn. It was a voice Arya recognized.

One she knew so well.

Arya whipped around to find who she hoped to.

"My lord?" Brienne asked then.

But standing at the entrance of the stable was no lord. She knew it wasn't a dream when their eyes met. His blue eyes had been full of anger and suspicion but now widened in surprise. Those muscled arms suddenly falling limp to his sides.

"Gendry?" She asked, pulling back her hood.

He just stood there gaping at her. His hair was longer and he'd grown some more stubble about his face but little else was different. The leather apron he wore was filthy and besides that his chest beneath was bare and sweaty.

Of course he'd find a smithy.

He loves them so.

"Gendry it's me." She repeated as if he wouldn't know her, it felt like it had been so long. "Say something. Say you know me…

He didn't say anything, instead he started walking towards her, letting the others speak for him.

Shout really.

"Hold!"

"Back away from her boy!"

Gendry didn't listen and when he lifted her up and into his arms in a powerful embrace she heard more cry out. Not her though, she hugged the big fool right back.

"I thought you died at the Saltpans…we all thought you died there…"

"Almost of boredom." She smiled before scrunching up her face at his sweaty embrace. "You smell horrible."

He smiled back and Arya realized how much she'd missed his stupid smile. Then his eyes flickered away and the smile disappeared.

It was the only warning she had before two powerful arms wrenched them apart and knocked Gendry to his arse. Hyle stood between them, his hand pushing her back as he drew his sword and pointed it at Gendry.

"That is not how a smith treats a lady!" The knight barked as the children were shouting at him.

"Leave Gendry be!"

"Stop!"

Arya was about to join in when Brienne was there, slamming her arm down into Hyle's wrist, knocking his sword from his hand.

"Leave him be! He has no blade!" Brienne then reached to pull Arya to her side as they both glared at Hyle.

"I was to stand by and let some peasant molest the lady? No wonder women can't be knights…" Hyle fumed as he was watched Gendry gain his feet.

"He's not some peasant!" She found her voice and pointed at her friend. "He's a knight and my friend!"

"A knight?" Hyle laughed and Brienne looked shocked as well.

"It's true! He's Ser Gendry of Hollow Hill! Knighted by the Lord Beric himself, I saw it!"

"Lord Beric?" Brienne pushed at her again, this time to put herself between them. "You were part of the brotherhood? You served the Lightning Lord?"

"I did." Gendry brushed off his apron and waved away the eldest girl as he drew up this full size. "Before Lord Beric's light left this world."

"He's dead?" Arya couldn't believe it when Gendry nodded. It didn't make sense, the man she'd known had been killed a number of times and every time he came back. "But I thought…where was Thoros?"

Gendry seemed pained then, looking at her in a way that almost bordered on pity, even sadness. His mouth opened but no words came. Instead he began scratching at his arm nervously.

"It's not a tale I'd tell…but I'd hear yours." Gendry turned to look at the assembled group before him and the suspicion he'd shown earlier came back. "Are these people your friends or captors?"

"I am the Lady Brienne of…"

"Brienne's my friend, those two are fools and he's a liar." Arya made sure to point to the knight, squire and the septon in turn. "But they all helped me away from the Faith and travel with me now."

"Arya that is not fair."

"Bugger fair, it's the truth. And Gendry's my friend too so we'll have rooms and food here tonight." She said with her hands on her hips.

Gendry and the girl Willow exchanged the same wary look Brienne and Ser Hyle did.

"You are no longer in Lord Beric's Brotherhood? We'll have your vow of safety if we bed here?" Brienne asked and Arya couldn't believe how awkward everyone was being.

"I would never let anyone hurt Arya. But if you're staying here you'll have to offer something." Gendry gestured to the children all watching the events from the porch with worried interest. "Food or coin, there are mouths to feed."

"A peaceable offer if I ever heard one." The septon came forward as his dog ran up the porch and the children shrieked as it began to chase them about. "Dog! Dog! Oh well, it's good for young ones to be a little scared of beasts. I can offer food in exchange for my bed this evening."

"And us coin…but not too much of it." Ser Hyle put in and the haggling began all over again.

In the end they took three rooms beside one another, Brienne and her sharing one with a hearth. Pod had seemed disappointed having to share Hyle's room instead of Brienne's and Arya couldn't blame him. After what Hyle had done to Gendry she liked him even less.

She also blamed Hyle for Gendry keeping his distance from them. He hadn't even come in to the inn afterwards and Brienne wouldn't let her go anywhere without her.

It was all so stupid, Gendry was right there and after all this time she couldn't even go talk to him.

What are they afraid of? That one of the orphans might snatch me away?

Only one person had ever been able to snatch Arya from anywhere and it had been the Hound. And he was long gone.

Eating dinner with the others had been a pain, children ran all about, the septon tried to pray and the girl Willow was bossy and reminded her too much of Sansa at her worst. And Gendry hadn't even come in to share their meal.

Again, it was Brienne who came to her rescue. It was her that suggested someone take a plate out to the forge and Arya had jumped at the chance.

"It would not be proper for the young lady to go alone…" Hyle had started before Brienne rose from the table.

"Then I shall accompany her. Come on now, before he goes hungry."

It was raining hard outside the inn but they didn't run, Brienne and her weren't bothered by a little rain. As they walked across the yard towards the forge, which rang with the sounds of work still, Arya remembered something from earlier.

"Why did you call Gendry a lord?"

Brienne made a face but did not break her stride.

"He reminded me of someone I knew once, I made a mistake is all." She said before stopping just before the forge. "What do you know of the knight? Do you know where he comes from? Or his parentage?"

"He's from King's Landing and he said he never knew his parents. He's a bastard, like Jon but don't call him that. He's a knight now."

Arya didn't think Brienne would do that but she had to be sure, things could not get more tense between them. Especially if she was going to convince Brienne to take Gendry with them.

The three of them would make a much better group than the one they rode with now.

"I show respect to all those who deserve it." Brienne answered. "And Ser Gendry seems to have earned yours."

Within the forge Gendry was hard at work. He had sweat running down his face and chest, his hair matted about his face as he pounded away at a sword. His eyes seemed to be elsewhere and she thought he hammered harder than necessary, each blow seeming fueled by some anger he held.

Then again she knew little of Gendry's trade.

"Who's the sword for?"

Her question caused Gendry to start, his arm pausing mid swing.

"Me." He said before shoving the blade back in the flames and turning away from them. "A knight needs a sword and this one will be mine."

"If you say so. We brought you food." Arya set the plate off to the side of the shop and saw bits of armor and weapons all about, including a spear as tall as Brienne.

Gendry still didn't turn around but she heard him grumble.

"Ladies shouldn't be bringing food to the likes of me."

"It was no trouble ser." Brienne said, her eyes inspecting Gendry as if trying to figure him out.

Not likely, she thought, I still can't.

Arya was in no hurry to leave so she made the best of their silence.

"I don't know why you want a sword…you swing a hammer like a bull kicks." She thought Gendry would cheer up at the use of his old nickname but he only shook his head, sweat falling from his dark hair as he did so.

"I'm a knight now, not a smith."

"So? Robert Baratheon used a war hammer and he was a lord and a king. Tell him Brienne."

The tall woman appeared at a loss for words, blinking several times before numbly nodding. Gendry didn't see it, his back still to them. He'd always been a stubborn ass but now he was acting as difficult as Brienne was acting strangely.

"I'm sorry about Hyle." She said. "I told you he was a fool…"

"Don't." Gendry turned to face her finally. "You don't have to apologize to me. Not after..."

He trailed off then and she knew something was wrong. He wouldn't look her in the eyes and his fists were clenched.

"Your mother…you know at the Twins…you know she…"

"She died." She said it so quickly she felt badly for it, but it had been moons ago. Arya had all that time alone on Quiet Isle to accept that. "So did Robb and Jon, I was there but I couldn't help them."

"We never found your brother…Jon Snow. Beric had us look for you both. When we searched for you we came on bodies but we never found him. We found..."

"Stop. Just stop." Arya almost begged.

Just because she'd accepted her family had died at the Red Wedding didn't mean she wanted to talk about it. She also didn't want to look weak so she quickly thought of something else to talk about.

"How did Beric die?" She asked.

Gendry didn't answer at first, instead moving to where the sword was being heated, turning it over. Then he added more wood to the furnace and crouching low to look into the flames.

"Gendry?"

"He died like he did all the other times…giving his life for another."

It made sense to her, Brienne seemed confused but she didn't know the Brotherhood like they did. As she pictured Beric she imagined him dying to save some woman somewhere from sellswords or Lannisters.

"I'm glad."

"What?"

"Arya!"

Gendry and Brienne were shocked.

"I'm glad he's dead and that he is still dead. I liked him, I mean it. I think he was a good man." She shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. "But he wasn't happy Gendry. I heard him tell Thoros he wasn't. Each time he came back less and less himself. Why come back if you can't be yourself?"

"Arya what are you talking about?" Brienne was lost.

"But…I thought you wanted that." Gendry said, his eyes finally on hers and if she thought him angry she was wrong. He was sad, as sad as she'd ever seen him. "You asked Thoros if he could bring back a man without a head? You wouldn't want that still?"

The memory made her feel weak. When she'd asked Beric for that she hadn't understood what his powers truly did. Afterwards she saw what Beric was going through, how his wounds remained and how he lost so much of what he loved.

Father would have come back but whether it would have really been him or some horribly scarred ghost of what he was she didn't know. All Arya knew was how much she loved him and how warm he was when he hugged her.

And that was all gone now.

"Beric said it…said it wasn't him that came back so it wouldn't be my father who came back. I loved my father but he's dead and I wouldn't want something that only looked like him. I'd want him to be happy." She wiped at her eyes, the tears had come despite her willing them away. "I hope he's happy."

"Quiet." Brienne commanded suddenly, her hand going to her sword.

She was moving towards the door and Arya was about to ask why when the woman held out her hand, her had cocked as if listening. The rain pounding against the building was all she heard at first, that and Gendry walking back to where his sword was burning.

Then she heard Dog barking, loud and frantically and Brienne shared a worried look with her.

"Someone is coming."

"Friends." Gendry said and Arya felt her stomach tighten.

"What friends Gendry?"

"You know them." He shrugged without looking back.

No, he said he wasn't with them anymore.

She wanted to scream at him but instead she ran to Brienne's side as the lady peered out into the rain through the small gap in the door she'd opened. Riders were splashing into the yard and reigning up before the inn. She counted seven of them and at first couldn't recognize any with their hoods up over their faces.

Until she spotted the last massive rider, his pale ugly head and sore laden cheeks all too familiar.

I do know them.

"They aren't our friends."

"Your sword and armor ser." Brienne spoke to Gendry who frowned. "You'll need it to protect Arya."

"To protect all of us." Arya added as she reached down and was glad Needle was still at her side.

By then Gendry had come over to take a look for himself and swore to see who had gathered outside the inn.

Arya spotted something else familiar, a helm she'd grown to hate.

"He's dead." She said. "He said he was dead."

She cursed the Elder Brother for lying about this as well.

"Not him, another."

Brienne's words were almost drowned out in the thunder, Willow's words were to the riders certainly were. Whatever Arya thought of the girl it took courage to go out onto the porch armed only with a crossbow against a group like that. The man's voice was louder and though she heard little enough she recognized it.

Rorge and Biter.

The Bloody Mummers are here.

Brienne suddenly turned and pushed Arya back at Gendry.

"Her safety ser, see to it." Was all the woman spoke before she walked out into the rain and went forth to face the mummers.

All of seven of them?

Alone?

She can't!

Gendry just stood there, gripping her shoulders and holding her back from helping.

"What are you doing? Get your armor!" She managed to fight him off until he only held her one wrist in his powerful right hand. "She can't fight them all!"

"No she can't but I'm not letting you go out there!"

Outside the sounds of fighting had started and she saw Brienne battling off a manic charged by Rorge. The others were just watching and laughing which meant there was still time.

Time for them to help her.

"Gendry I can fight so get your sword! She'll die!" She used his grip as leverage and slammed her knee up and into his groin.

Gendry wheezed and released his grip enough for her to yank free and turn to the door. She saw Rorge impaled upon Brienne's sword and almost cried out in joy. Then Biter was rushing at Brienne, smashing into her and sending them both down to the ground.

Arya was running out into the rain with Needle in her hand, heading straight at Biter and Brienne as they brawled in the mud. Someone gave a shout and one of the mummers swung at her with a mace.

Arya ducked beneath his blow, feeling the blow whip by just above her head. His attack had thrown him off balance so as she launched an attack of her. Slashing upwards Needle cut through the man's thigh and across his groin. He screamed in agony before falling down clutching at himself. Whatever pride she took in that turned to horror as she saw what Biter was doing to Brienne.

The monster raised up over top of her protector, a chunk of her cheek hanging from his mouth as he chewed.

Arya moved to help as others joined the attack against the mummers. Newcomers were riding into the yard and she saw Hyle rushing forth from the inn.

None told the man who ran at Arya this, that or he just really wanted to cut her in two. He was wielding a curved sword and cursed her in some strange tongue.

Arya tried to meet his attack but the when their swords struck together Needle was torn from away her grasp. She watched it tumble through the air, landing in the mud to her side. Arya dove down into the muck too, avoiding her attacker's next cut and crawling to reach her sword.

She never reached it, the man's boot catching her in the ribs and causing her to roll sideways in pain.

The rain was in her eyes but she caught a glimpse of Biter still atop Brienne. Blood running down his mouth and the side of her face a bloody ruin.

No please, not her too, not because of me.

The legs of the man who would kill her appeared just to side of her view. Any moment his sword would come down and she hoped it would before Brienne died. She didn't want to watch Brienne die.

When the lightning flashed she thought it was the killing stroke. She'd closed her eyes against its coming and waited. Yet nothing but the crash of thunder followed.

She'd been spared, and so had Brienne. For Biter died in their place.

Gendry had saved Brienne, her friend burying spear so powerfully through the back of Biter's head it stuck out the monster's mouth a good foot.

Two bodies fell in front of her then, grunting and wrestling. The man who was supposed to kill her was instead doing his best to hold off Podrick, who wielded a bloody meat knife in his hand. Blood spilled from the mummer and stained the mud but he fought on, his fist pummeling Pod's face brutally.

Arya didn't waste time, she dug into the mud and crawled to Pod's aid. When she was over top the mummer's face she jammed her thumbs as hard as she could into the man's eyes. He howled as her nails clawed deep into the softness there. Then howled no more as Pod drove his knife deep into the man's chest.

They stared at each other after their enemy lay still. Pod's eyes were dazed, his lips and nose a bloody mess while Arya was a mess of mud from head to toe, her side burning in pain. All around them the yard men still shouted and dying horses screamed yet no more weapons clashed. The fighting was over, the newcomers milling about the bodies of the mummers, some surrounding Hyle who argued with them loudly.

She didn't care about that, she only cared about Brienne.

Pod was the same.

They helped each other to their feet, Arya doing her best not to lean against him more than he did for her. Together they went to Brienne.

Gendry was there, kneeling over her while another man in a familiar yellow cloak stood beside him. Brienne moved some in the mud and Gendry looked to be speaking to her quietly.

"Gendry, how is she?" Arya asked. "How bad is it?"

"Not bad enough…look at all she did." Gendry answered. "She fought so hard…she can pull through I think."

Arya had hope then, hope for Brienne despite how bad off she looked.

Until the other man spoke.

"It go better for her if she dies now. Why waste good hanging rope?"