Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, or whatnot created by GRRM. Everything else that is not covered by his copyright is hopefully fresh ideas from my lovely mind. Sorry if something is similar to something you may have read or written, but I am not doing it on purpose and I am very much trying to be original. If I was making money off of this, it would in no way be on fanfiction. 'Nough said.

Warning: This had been rated M because I like to be detailed, so I will mention: blood, definite gore, vulgar language, and mature situations throughout the chapters. You no like? You leave.

A/N: Okay, this is my longest chapter so far, so I hope it tides you all over until Friday or maybe Saturady. I'd like to thank all the people that have followed, faved and reviewed this fic so far. It means a lot to me that people actually like my writing. The last bit of this chapter was more of a reward to you all than a necessary part of the plot line. So enjoy.

Any grammer, spelling, and just general mistakes I may have overlooked, please point out and I'll see if I can fix them.

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Snow fell slowly from the skies, dusting the men and Arya in a fine layer of white. It clung to cloaks and hair and melted quickly against their warm bodies. In another life Arya would have appreciated seeing snow like this in Winterfell, where she would have declared war on her brothers and won spectacularly. Now though the wet snow sent a shiver down her spine as it drenched her so completely.

It had been almost half a day since her life had been spared, and the sun was just beginning to rise over the trees. With the sun came the vision of a clearing in the trees, filled with many rough patched tents. They were spread in a halfhearted semi-circle, with the center a bed of dying coals and embers. Only a few men came to meet them, casting curious looks Arya's way.

"Lady Stoneheart, we have news from Notch and his men." An older man stepped towards their group and Arya noticed the chains hanging from his shoulders.

Many of the men split then, heading for their tents or the remains of the fire to warm themselves. She made to move with them, but there was a firm grip on her arm. When she glanced over her shoulder, she came face to face with Harwin.

"Can't a girl warm herself after being exposed to the cold?" Arya muttered, casting a glance back at the welcoming coals.

"If only it were that easy lass. Not like you're the only one that's cold and damp though." He motioned to a man beside him to take Arya's horse. "No, I'm afraid the Lady would like some more words with you concerning your services. We'll wait for her to finish with the Maester, and then we'll talk in the tent over there."

It was the largest tent, Arya noticed. Battered and burned as it was, it looked like it had been savaged in a battlefield. And when she looked closer, she saw what was left of the Stark coat of arms. Half was burned and the other half had loose stitching. Which meant that this had probably been scavenged from Robb's things, just after his men had been wiped out.

"It may be no looker, but we take what we can. Not like we have gold coming out of asses like them Lannisters." Harwin started towards the tent, releasing Arya in the process.

She followed behind him, eyeing as the man with her mare let the horse lay in a makeshift stable. "Luxury is overrated. I've never been the kind of girl to appreciate those kinds of comforts."

He gave a small snort, "Sounds as if you grew up a Lady."

"We all start off from somewhere." She stepped past him and into the pleasantly warm tent. And no matter how well I can pretend, I'm no Lady.

The tent was sparse, minus a few beds bordering the walls and a large table in the middle. Men were surrounding the table, looking at one of the many maps that lay upon it. She could just make out the small details of a few camps on the largest map when it was rolled up hastily and placed out of sight. This caught the attention of the men, and they became quiet. Her mind supplied names to a few of the faces, some belonging to minor Lords of Houses that served the Starks while others served House Tully.

"Was I interrupting something?" Arya continued forward until she was resting her hands against the worn table. "And here I thought you'd be in need of my services."

"Faceless." A garbled noise came from the other end of the table and Arya spared a glance at the Lady operating these men. "Enough, listen."

Arya clucked her tongue and crossed her arms beneath her chest, but was just able to quell a snide comment. With her obeying the command, a few men lost interest in her and gazed at Harwin expectantly. He nodded at them and stopped beside the head of the table by Lady Stoneheart.

"I'm sure you lot have noticed the young woman in our presence. Through unusual circumstances, we have acquired her services as a Faceless Man." Harwin held a hand up to lessen the round of surprised voices. "She has agreed to see that Walder Frey is killed. With this a given, the Lady has decided to take back Riverrun by the time a second full moon has passed."

"And how can we trust the word of this girl? How do we know she is no spy?!" One of the men closest to Lady Stoneheart supplied, casting Arya a dubious glare.

A predatory smile crossed Arya's face and her gaze turned vicious. "Do not take my skills lightly, unless you are volunteering to test them yourself."

His face contorted, and Arya fiddled with the sleeve of her tunic as if uninterested in his fury. He leaned across the table to grab her or start yelling, Arya was uncertain, and she struck her hands out like a viper. It curled around his calloused hand and flipped it deftly, showing to everyone the small needle pressed against one of his veins, threatening to break skin.

"If I wanted this entire camp dead, it most certainly would be." She let go of his hand then and slipped the small needle back into the cuff of her sleeve. Arya kicked towards the man that held a blade to her back and listened as he lost his balance. "At least one of you was prepared in case I wasn't who I claimed."

"And who are you exactly?" She sparred a glance at the scowling smith behind her as he quickly stood back up.

"I've gone by many names, none of which I'm willing to tell you." Arya narrowed her eyes at him before she turned back to Harwin. "If it makes your men feel better, I have no need to hear your battle plans. Just tell me when you want the Frey dead and what you want it to look like. An accident, illness, murder?"

The Lady made a motion with her hand and Harwin listened to her muddled speech. He turned back to Arya. "We need know if you can make it appear as if the death was caused by the Lannisters before our planned attack on Riverrun."

Arya thought quietly, pulling a commoners map of Westeros closer to her. With the rivers frozen, traveling north while avoiding the main roads would be easy enough. There were towns and ruins between here the Twins which were perfect for stocking up on supplies. Nymeria could even track down a Lannister traveling party for her to gather evidence. It wouldn't be impossible, but it would be the hardest job she had taken yet.

And she told them as such, going as far as to show them her proposed path of travel. "Expect me there in a moon's time. Walder will be dead within a fortnight of my arrival."

Lady Stoneheart made a dismissive wave. "Leave."

Arya nodded, leaving copious amounts of space between her and Gendry as she left. She turned her head back towards the group. "I'll leave come morning. If there is any pertinent information you feel I should have, make sure you get it to me."

With a harsh look from her new contractor, Arya was gone. She went to the stable with her mare. Her pack was untouched but her horse had been tended to while she was discussing her current job. Arya was sure to rub the horse's neck and give a few soft spoken words before she left; her pack hanging over one shoulder.

"Milady," a young voice called, and when Arya found the owner saw it belonged to a page. He had to be no older than eight. "I've been told to bring you to your tent."

She followed him to a small patchwork of furs towards the edge of the row of tents. It was just big enough for one, but smelt as if it had housed a good dozen before her. If she was certain, there was blood and a badly sewn rip along one wall. Harwin wasn't having a jape at her when he said they took what they could.

"I'm scared to see what you will be serving me for food." But the page was gone, lost amongst the other tents.

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Gendry couldn't help but be surprised when his frown only deepened as the plans for the siege of Riverrun was planned around him. It had been a few hours before a plan had been set, and nothing said during that time had been pleasing. This would take a great deal more men then they had, and even more swords than he could supply. There was no way the brotherhood would be ready for this attack and leave it victorious.

"We'll be sending out our scouts to gather men from the trustworthy towns. We've got word from Lord Blackwood that he has a supply of weapons he can offer to our cause. Lady Bracken has sent word that her husband has fallen ill, and that she will send what men she can." Harwin said, addressing the knights. "Ser Wode, you will head east and gather any supplies and men. Notch has been sent a raven, telling him to head further west and block off the Riverroad from any Lannister reinforcements. The Peach will send word to those allied to us."

"And Ser Gendry," the blacksmith became wary at the look Harwin leveled him. "You will travel north with a few of our men. You are expected to leave for Raventree with the Faceless girl."

His frown turned into an outright scowl. "Can we even trust her? What if she does run off as soon as our backs are turned?"

Harwin looked tired. "If any of you lot knew anything about Faceless, then you know that they don't turn their back on their contracts. Once they have sworn to kill, their target will be dead within only a matter of time."

That did nothing to ease Gendry's worries on the woman. There was just something about her, not the dainty heiress she had pretended to be but the woman she acted like now, that was familiar to Gendry. That itself unnerved him, he was sure he didn't know anyone that could have been a Faceless. But the way her eyes burned through him when she looked his way, as if he had done something unforgiveable.

"Get some rest men, many of you will be leaving by the morrow!" Harwin approached Gendry as he made to leave with the rest of the men. "And lad, watch yourself. That girl may be bound to our group by contract, but there is no denying that she's hiding something."

"Don't worry," Gendry breathed out. "There isn't really much that I can do against a trained assassin."

He couldn't help it, Gendry really couldn't. The things he'd seen when he'd slept that night insured that he didn't get any more sleep than the few hours he'd managed to squeeze in. It wasn't the corpses that walked around the North as if it was normal for the dead to rise from the grave that made him fearful for sleep. No, that right was reserved for the Other that had found a way past the Wall.

The legends on the Others were sparse in the South, often meant to scare young children into listening to their parents. If any of the stories had even held a torch to the truth, no child would ever leave from their mother's embrace. That was one of the few things that Gendry was willing to bet on.

And then there had been that man, about his age he'd assume. The man with the same eyes as Arya, same fair skin and dark hair. A man who'd had something distinctly not human melt all over him. Something Gendry was sure was not a good thing.

When one of the men in his tent kicked him, Gendry gave up on the idea of sleep completely. On the way out he may have accidently kicked the man back, since there was too little stepping space. At this point he was past caring.

Frigid night air enveloped him as soon as he was out of his cramped tent, enveloping him in a very unwelcome embrace. He honestly missed the warmth of King's Landing on nights like this. Just not the smell of piss and the Goldcloaks after his head. Those he could live without. He quite liked his head.

With his hands clamping his cloak around him tightly, Gendry walked towards one of the guards posts that surrounded their clearing and temporary base. Anguy didn't even bother to spare a glance for him, the archer had his sight focused completely on the shadows. His bow was drawn, but not to its fullest. So whatever was out there wasn't an immediate that. If not for the blanket wrapped around the archers legs and the occasional cock of his head, Gendry may have thought the man had frozen to the tree branch.

"I wouldn't step past the tree line boy." Anguy said, relaxing the bow by a notch. "The wolves seem to be out tonight."

Well damn the Gods, the wolves were never close enough to be spotted around any of the camps before. "How long have they been here?"

"Well," his bow swiveled sharply to one side. "they only gotten close after the sun had set, but I think they were here since we arrived."

"That long?" He looked closely and was able to spot glowing yellow and green eyes hiding amongst the shadows.

"Aye." He pointed his bow further out. "I think the alpha she-wolf has even made an appearance. Near the barren oak."

And Gendry saw its shadow as it prowled in the darkness. Then its eerie golden eyes were looking straight at him. The wolf was then stepping forward and towards the camp. It towered above the other wolves by a good two feet; its bulk could almost be mistaken for that of a horse. But the glint of fangs and the hunters crouch it assumed made the wolf so very much a wolf.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when it turned away from him and back into the night. "Why haven't they attacked?"

"Eh, who knows?" He motioned to them again. "All they've been doing is layin' about and dare I say it, patrolling."

Patrolling? Why in the world would the wolves be doing such a thing? They never hesitate to attack humans anymore, usually going for the kill unless they had better prey nearby. Not that he'd complain, but the wolves didn't make any sense. Especially the she-wolf.

"Why are you out here?" Anguy asked after a lapse of silence. "Don't you leave with the sun?"

Gendry rubbed at his forehead, "Couldn't sleep."

"Thinking about the Stark girl again?" The archer implored, not really looking for an answer he already knew.

And he was silent as the grave, thinking that for once it wasn't Arya keeping him up. Well, at least not before now.

The Faceless was securing a bag across her shoulders when Gendry arrived at the small trail leading away from the clearing. Two others followed behind him, a knight and squire from Stoney Sept. She glanced up at them and turned away, most likely having already been informed by one of the men about her temporary companions.

"Try and keep up." She started at a brisk pace, not even bothering to check and see if they were ready. "I plan on getting to Raventree Hall in six days."

She led them on that hurried gate of hers, leading them along the nearly buried trail. The sun was blocked by dark clouds and made the forest dark around them, making it difficult to stay behind the Faceless. Gendry adjusted the small pack he'd brought with him, sharing a glance with Ser Madynn when the girl stopped on occasion to look into the dark woods. Neither of them trusted the girl and both were wary of traveling with her.

The tension around them was stifling, just as it was with their silence. It was already midday and they had yet to pass the Riverroad as they traveled north. He wasn't sure if both of the two men that accompanied him and the Faceless would last much longer without breaking out into conversation, if only to distract them. Thankfully neither the knight nor his squire made much noise as they walked through the trees.

They were nearing the Riverroad, when the Faceless girl stopped beside a tree just shy of the snow covered cobble. Her hand curled close to the bark signaling them to stop, and she slowly stepped back. Gendry watched warily as the girl looked along the road with meticulous eyes. Neither of their companions paid her much attention, only sparing a glance before they were stepping past the tree line.

When Gendry started to doubt the girl's caution, there was a war cry from just higher up the road. His sword was in his hands before either of the knight or squire's own blades. This cost them as an axe nearly lodged itself into the squire's neck, only to miss when the boy jumped back. Gendry was forced to watch as the ax sailed through the air and struck the knight's swords arm. It went to the bone before the wielder was yanking his weapon back.

Blood splashed across the squire's face and he raised an arm to wipe away at his eyes. The axe was coming down on the younger boy when Gendry rushed forward with his great sword, blocking the heavy attack with his blade. With as much force as he could muster, he deflected the axe and slashed at his opponents exposed face. His opponent leapt back, bringing his weapon up to strike.

He adjusted his stance and met the blow, pushing through it and striking the pommel of his blade into the man's nose. The man reeled, and Gendry slashed, taking the man's head in one fell swoop. A glint of steel flashed to his right, and he knew that he had no time to right himself to block or dodge.

A small blur went under his guard, straight at the attacker. He was turning to meet his new opponent when the Faceless's voice rung out. "No! To your left, I got this one."

Gendry faltered but did as instructed, settling into a prepared stance. The smaller man had been trying to sneak up on Gendry's blindside, but turned to circling instead when he was caught. Rushing towards the slight man, Gendry feigned a slash to the head. What his enemy didn't expect was for Gendry to instead bring his blade straight through the man's chest. His dying opponent coughed blood onto Gendry's face before he slid to the snow.

There was no longer the sound of battle going on around him, but Gendry kept his sword at the ready. As he looked around the road, he saw that there were at least five men around him, not Freys themselves, but possible banner men or vassals. Slowly the fight in him died and he cleaned his blade before sheathing it.

He glanced around to see how his party had faired. The Faceless was wiping her blades along the robes of the fallen, and then she went to searching the corpses. He noted that the knight traveling with them was struggling with his arm as his squire limped to the fallen man. The boy had a gash on his leg that needed patching and a growing bruise along half his face.

"Ser Madynn," Gendry approached the knight. "Do you think that you can make it back to the main camp before they leave for a new location?"

"No," he grunted as his squire tied off his mangled arm. "Not without a horse. And even then I couldn't make it back on my own."

Gendry sighed, "You'll need to bring your squire back with you then."

"Well," the Faceless called to them. "It appears the men had at least one horse and were waiting to ambush us."

He turned to face her, "And what makes you say that?"

She held up some parchment with one hand and pointed towards the far end of the road, where Gendry could just make out a tethered horse. "Well, they seem to have an order from the Lord Frey to camp along this road until they find your Brotherhood. The horse speaks for itself."

As he passed her to get to the horse, he swore that she muttered stupid. His chest gave a painful lurch but he was quick to dismiss it. He needed had already decided that he wasn't going to bother with her. But by the Gods, he was certain he'd snap at some point if she started referring to him that way. Like Arya had when she had been annoyed with him. This was going to be a long trip, Gendry just knew it.

When night fell, a blizzard took hold and forced the party of two to make shelter near the Red Fork. The snow pelted against their thin tent viciously, nearly collapsing it on more than one occasion. Both of them were forced to stay close to keep warm, but Gendry could tell that neither of them were fond of the situation. Ever since they had begun their journey, he had been acutely aware of the narrowed eyes and barbed words sent his way. He was sure that she would rather freeze in the storm than stay in here with him if not for the fact that it would kill her.

Even then, he had his doubts.

They'd just finished their small rations of fish jerky when Gendry let his curiosity get the better of him. "What is your problem?"

"Problem?" She exclaimed, and Gendry could feel her glare focused on him. "If anything I'd say that my problem is you."

"My point." He rolled his eyes and settled in his furs, his back still turned to her.

She was very quiet after that, and Gendry turned so that he could get a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. "You remind me of someone that hurt me years ago. I've never forgiven him."

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her incredulously. "You're mad at me because some man screwed you over?"

The Faceless bristled at him, "You have no idea how alike the two of you are. That is more than enough reason for me to not like you."

"Then tell me about him and I bet I can prove you wrong." He lifted his head in her direction. "You have no idea how creepy your glare is."

"I wouldn't tell you even if I could." She turned away from him, pulling her furs around her. "Once you become a Faceless, you leave your old life behind. You wouldn't make it through the training alive otherwise."

"Really?"

"Shut it blacksmith," Her voice had a warning edge. "The House of Black and White doesn't just let its secrets out. Dig too deep and you'll have a grave prepared the next day. Mine included."

It was silent after that and Gendry turned his back to her, shivering into his furs. After a while she let out a soft sigh and he assumed she had fallen asleep. So it nearly caused him to panic when she started shifting restlessly against his back, hitting and kicking for the longest time. None of the attacks hurt in anyway, but stopped him from finding any rest.

And then her arms were wrapping around his waist, pulling her body flush against his back. She nuzzled her face between his shoulder blades and he could feel her breath against his neck. What made it worse was when she forced a leg between his own and curled even closer to his body, making him increasingly aware that he was sharing a small tent with a woman. The swell of her breast made it obvious that she was no girl.

A cross between a moan and a growl passed her lips and it made Gendry realize that it had been nearly six moons since he had been this close to a girl. He blushed and tried to force her arms off of him, least she wake up and kill him. Distantly he wondered if asking more about the Faceless Men would have given him a swift death compared to the torture that he would go through come the morrow. Though, now felt like more of a personal hell than any he was sure that she could think up.

He knew that the next five days just may be the longest he'd ever live to see. If he lived that long.