Winter's Thaw

The Return of Stannis

Arya

They end up staying that night, too tired to ride back. The next morning they get a very late start, having overslept considerably. They're all sore, but satisfied, with a few basketfuls of different fruits and vegetables to bring back until the harvest is truly over.

Arya is in good spirits, quite proud of herself, and her little team.

"What exactly will we tell Gendry when we return?" Shireen asks. She was considering that herself. Her bare bones plan had been completely upended. They had stayed an extra night, there were no new dresses, and they all looked as if they'd been through the wringer.

"I'm not sure yet." She answers honestly, biting her lip.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to keep his manly honor intact."

"It's not just about Gendry. I'll need to do things like this for Winterfell all the time. I won't just live there, I'll have to hold it, govern it. Storm's End is just a practice run for me." She insists though it sounds hollow, even to her.

Her mind goes back to plausible lies she could tell to spare his feelings, unable to settle on any one.

They arrive back at the castle at the setting of the sun- horses, guards, soldiers, and knights swarming around. It's a frenzy, and it can mean only one thing. 

Stannis had finally arrived. 

And she'd missed it. 

Of course.

Maester Elwin was waiting for them, and looked at her expectantly. She frantically sent Shireen in ahead, with the intent to stall as long as possible. She sends Merilee ahead to her own room to start a bath and set out a dress.

To Lommy she gave the vegetables, to be added to the evening's supper. He all but ran to the kitchens to deliver his quarry to Hot Pie.

She approached Elwin.

"My Lady, we are so glad you have returned. Is everything, well with Evanfall?" He's twiddling his fingers nervously.

"Aye, Maester, not to worry. Everything is fixed." His shoulders untense with a big sigh. 

"How long has Lord Stannis been here?" She near-whines.

"He arrived last night, but Lord Gendry has managed to convince his uncle to hold off on anything formal until your return." An entire day, that was no good.

"Good, the Lady Shireen will stall as I go make myself more presentable."

"Uh, My Lady. There is another matter. A letter arrived not long ago; I thought you might be particularly interested as you've been so attentive to all correspondence. It's from The Wall." 

A letter, from The Wall? It's unopened, and she doesn't recognize the script.

"Thank you, Maester." He bows and leaves.

In a trance she makes it to her room. The Wall, Jon?

There, the maid Kahlen is waiting, a lukewarm bath ready. Arya hops in the tub, submerging her head beneath the bubbles, perhaps a bit longer than necessary. A few ruby red drops confirm what she'd suspected earlier. Apart from the aches and pains of working and riding, those were cramps she'd been battling. Of course.

She opens up the letter.

To The Great Houses of Westeros,

How many of these letters were there? All the houses?

We seek your aid. The dead walk beyond The Wall and seek to destroy all life. Once The Wall is breached, they will wreak havoc upon the land indiscriminately; rich and poor alike, it will make no difference.