As you wish M'Lady- Gendrya

Numb.

The gates of Winterfell. It had been too long since she last placed her eyes upon them. They were different- or so she thought. Or maybe it was just her that was different. Maybe she was the one that had changed, and the world had stayed completely frozen in time. 

"Arya!" Sansa ran too her, and held her close. Arya smiled for a second, so that she didn't seem to be as serious as she was, but in her chest she felt numb. Aside from the lingering pain, that was rekindled when she saw her home.

She had hoped, for a time, that she would be with him when she walked on this soil again. That they would be together, as they had promised each other. But that was a long time ago, and she didn't linger on the thought.

"Bran's here too,"

Bran was the only one she really wanted too see, besides Jon. She had a dream where Bran was speaking to her. She couldn't see him, but she could hear him comfort her. He told her, in a tone similar to her own, that one day she would find him. She would find him, in a place she least expected it. But he also told her that before Arya could find Gendry, she had to find Bran first. 

"Where is he? I need to see him, it's urgent,"

"Come with me," 

She followed in her sister's footsteps. The literal part of that phrase was the only one Arya would ever uphold. She had never wanted to be like Sansa, in any way. She didn't want to wear dresses, or braid her hair, or sit and stitch in perfectly straight lines for hours. And she didn't want to write love poems for her husband, in her pretty, neat hand writing, after her children had retired to their chambers. And she certainly never wanted to be married to a bitch like Jeoffrey. If she was going to marry, it would be to someone strong. Someone normal. Someone who understood the ways of the world, without wanting to rule it in a chair, far away from danger. She wanted a fighter, a survivor. Someone who would come home from a long days work, covered in dirt and kick off his boots. Who would then come, and kiss her on the cheek before they sat and ate dinner, discussing how both of their work had been. Someone who would listen as she told him how her hunting went that day, rather than pretending to listen to some soppy bullshit from a lovesick puppy. 

"Arya. You found me," Bran said, with a smile.

Sansa gasped. He hadn't smiled once since he had arrived at Winterfell. But, then again, he always did have a bond with Arya that he hadn't shared with Sansa or Robb. She turned, and walked away.

"I had a dream-"

"I know."

"You said-"

"I know." he smiled, again, but the numb tone of his voice remained, as did Arya's. She went and held her brother.

"You will find him now. You asked him, many years ago, to come here with you. To fight with you, under Robb's command. He will come. Leaving you, was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and was the hardest thing he will ever do. He promised himself he would find you. That he would make his way to Winterfell. To you,"

"When will he come?"

"When the winds of winter blow, and the summer nights grow colder. And he won't be alone. With him, he brings an old friend of yours,"

"Why did he leave?"

"That is a question that would be answered better by him," he put his hand on Arya's, "father would be proud of you. Very proud. So would Robb, and mother,"

Arya was the only person who could bring any emotion to Bran. She was his weakness, in a way.

"Bran, even if he comes back, it could never be, could it? It isn't proper for someone in my position to marry a bastard. That's what mother said, all those years ago,"

"He isn't a bastard,"

"He is, he's-"

"the child of Robert Baratheon, and Cersei Lannister. Cersei believed him to be dead when he was a babe. Robert loved the child dearly, and therefore had the best maester he knew operate on his heart. It was successful, but it was too late. Half of King's Landing allready knew the child was dead, so he gave the child to a smith, to train,"

"How do you know?"

"I was there. I'm everywhere now. I know everyone and everything that ever lived.  I'm the three eyed raven, now,"

"Oh,"

"He will make kings rise and fall. And you. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Eyes you'll shut forever," Arya looked at him, a lump growing in her throat, "those words have haunted you for years. Because you never understood them,"

Every night when Arya sat in whatever accommodation she had, from a bed, to a tree, to beside her horse, she heard those words ring round in her head like the bells of the high Sept in King's Landing. The bells she heard when that bastard cut off her father's head. And ever since she heard those words, her list was a name longer. Of all the names on her list, that was the one she was itching to cross off. She had appointed names to the colours.

Brown eyes- Cersei Lannister. 

Green eyes- Walder Frey.

Blue eyes- The red bitch that took Gendry from her. 

Cersei was responsible for the death of half her family. She passed the sentence, and Walder Frey swung the sword. And the red bitch. The woman who haunted her dreams. The one person she'd come close to fearing. The woman responsible for most of her pain.

Appointing names to the colours, calmed her mind. It gave her a sense of security. But Gendry... make kings rise and fall? That had her well and truly stumped. After all, Gendry was a smith, nothing more. He had claim to the iron throne. He knew that. Even as a bastard, his claim was always stronger than Jeoffrey's. But instead, he stayed working as a smith. Loyalty. Simultaneously his best and worst trait.

"You can't tell Gendry,"

It hurt to hear his name out loud.

"I can't tell him what?"

"That he's not a bastard. If the dragon queen finds out, she'd burn him too ash. She has to learn to trust him first, then you can tell Gendry. But you must check with me first if you want to ensure his safety. I know how much he means to you. And I know how important he is in... the grand scheme of things,"

"The dragon queen won't lay a hand on Gendry or-"

"She'll be added to your list. Along with her three dragons, army of Dothraki and Unsullied, and our brother at her side,"

"Our brother?"

"Jon,"

"He's with her?"

"He loves her, though he won't admit it. The army of the dead are coming, and we need all the armies we can get. But, it probably won't be enough,"

"Will he be fighting?"

"Yes."

"Will he fight well?"

"Yes."

"Will he survive?"

Silence.

"Bran... will he survive if he goes and fights for Jon?"

"It's hard to tell,"

"Will everyone else survive if he doesn't fight?"

He looked her in the eyes, "No,"