Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or its characters.

a/n: This is the sequel to THE LINK THAT BINDS US TOGETHER; it takes place straight afterward. Altered spoilers at end for season 4.

Fic Summary:She was alone now, as alone as she could ever be. With her dead brother's direwolf for company, she will survive as she must. Together they could find away to survive this war. (Told in Arya's POV)

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Us Together: Part 2 of 2
The Binds That Link Us Together

Arya had become used to pain. Physical and emotional. She had become better at dealing with both. Because if she gave in to her physical pain, she would have died long ago, and if she'd given into her grief she would have gone mad long ago.

She had to drive Nymeria away, the direwolf that was her bestest friend, who was her other half. Though an animal, unable to speak, she was more human than most of the people she had encountered. And though it was to save the beast's life, loneliness and wanting still clutched at her heart when she wasn't paying attention. Her father's death, the rumours of Theon betraying Robb and killing Bran and little Rickon. She thought the Hound was her death sentence, but it had turned out the burned man would be her salvation. She had stuck with the wretched towering man like a kid to his mother. It didn't matter that he was going to ransom her because she would be with Robb and Mother again—her family.

She had been so close, the thought long lost hope growing inside her the closer they got to the Twins without. She should have known it was not to be, she should have known that it had been too good to be true.

It had been blood and death there. Blood and death. She'd come to see many men die, it was a state now not new to her. She'd come accustomed the scent and look of it, the way that her heart pounded into her chest and she wasn't afraid to join in if she must. She was a survivor. She was a survivor and she would do what she must so that she could, even if it meant killing men and getting blood on her hands. No matter the losses that she was suffering, the loneliness and emptiness that might come over her, she would find away to survive on the simple fact that she did not wish to die. Sansa was still living, though in the clutches of the Lanniesters. And she knew that her half-brother Jon Snow was still alive at the Wall, she knew it in her guts and in her heart, Jon yet lived. And that kept her strong.

Robb and Mother were dead. She knew this to be true on the simple fact that Grey Wind was with her and not at Robb's side. A sadness filled her, another hollowness in her heart, more and more names adding to her nightly list. She was not sure of specific names but she had seen their sigils flapping in the night attacking the Stark men that were loyal to Robb; Frey men, Bolton, Karstark. Traitors, traitors, traitors.

She'd awoken to hot breath huffing against her face, smelling of old blood. For an instant she thought of Nymeria, but though the direwolves were siblings, their colour was different. That old loneliness claimed her for but a moment. She was stuck between hard wood and a huge wolf and it was stifling.

"Grey Wind." She muttered, feeling the sadness in her as she remembered Robb and Mother again.

Though her and Mother argued almost about every single thing, especially being lady which was a big issue with the older woman, that did not mean that the hated each other, if anything, it made them talk with each other even if it was in frustrated tones on both their parts. But they loved each other like only an mother and daughter could, they had that bond that nothing could take away from it—except maybe death—but Arya would always have the memory of it. Arya had always been closest with Jon, they were just made from the same kind of cast, looked more Stark than any of the other siblings, but she had also been way closer to her brothers than she did with Sansa. It was just a fact that she had a more adventuress and boyish personality and she connected with her brothers better, including Robb when his attention hadn't been taken up with his best-friend-turned-traitor-Theon-Greyjoy. She loved them all in equal measure, though it had taken all these awful events to realize her true love for her elder sister who she had always hated and felt jealousy towards because she was the lady that Mother wished Arya could one day be. But that dream of her Mother's died when the woman died, and Arya was as far from being a lady as a girl could get. Ladies were raped and killed in these times now and that was not something this girl could afford.

"Grey Wind," she repeated and the huge wolf's eyes cracked open. She was started to see nothing but his whites but when she blinked and looked again he was looking at her with big deep blue eyes. "Hello," she murmured, unsure. She knew that he would never harm her, but he was huge and she remembered all the men he had killed before.

The beast shifted unto his spade paws and looked at her again. He yipped happily at her like a pup again, nuzzling her with his wet nose as she slowly pulled herself upright, aching, and almost knocked her back down again.

He backed off instantly and that was when she spotted the wound on his flank. It was a long line, a groove in the matt of thick grey fur. Crusted over with dried blood and dirt.

"Gods," she gasped and shifted closer for a better look. The beast turned from her, nosed the wound before he started to lick at it with his big, rough tongue. It did not look that deep but any wound, big, small, it did not matter much; in times like these any could get septic if not properly treated. He licked away the crusted blood and scabs, opening the wound fresh again, gleaming wet from his saliva a fresh trickle of blood trailed from the pink, fleshy wound.

She wasn't sure whether she should stop him as he continued to lick the trickling wound. But in the end she left him to it. Animals got wounded in fights all the time and weren't treated by Maesters and lived, so they must know what they were doing. Maybe licking the wound like that really did help, cleaning it, maybe wolves had stuff in their spit that helped heal them. It was a rather curious thought.

Her stomach grumbled hollowly, and Grey Wind looked over at her. "It's been a bit," she told him, unsure why she talked to him this way. Maybe he understood her, maybe he didn't. She wished he could speak and wondered at the things that he might tell her, wondered at the conversations the two of them might have. But he couldn't and so he didn't, but with him here she felt that much less lonely and that much more safe.

She climbed to her feet, an ache in her side but she ignored it. She felt at her belt for her dagger, she'd become pretty good a hunting small game. Though they were quick, through Syrio's training she had become quick too. Besides, if she could get a rodent, she could always forage for berries, nuts and the like. And that was when she realized that she no longer had the dagger that the Hound had let her keep, and that was when she remember diving at the man with the long sword, intending to kill him before he could take Grey Wind's head, he had struck her with the flat of his sword and that was the last thing she remembered.

She had woken up on the ground sandwiched between a pine and direwolf with no idea how she had gotten there or where they were. Grey Wind must have finished the rest of the men off and then dragged her there, wherever there was. All she did know for sure that it was away from the Twins, her brother's and mother's bodies, and the slaughtered Stark men.

Grey Wind disappeared into the trees, she tried to follow him but lost sight of his fluffy tail within moments. Now she was lost, in a place, she cursed, she had no idea was. So she wondered about a bit, looking for bushes of berries or fallen nuts on the ground, always making sure she knew where the pine tree was.

She had found some purple berries but it was autumn, winter was closing in, and they were shrivelled. She rubbed them against her lips and a moment later popped them into her mouth. Dry they might be, chewy they might be, they were nourishment nonetheless and she savoured them.

By the time she made water and came back to the pine, Grey Wind retuned. Blood on his muzzle, the beast dropped a couple rabbits at her feet. She looked at them open-mouthed, her mouth watering at the sight of the dead creatures. "Thanks, Grey Wind."

He took the bigger rodent. Laying down and holding it with his paws as he tore into it. Arya drank the still warm blood that dribbled from the wounds that Grey Wind made, quenching her thirst and some hunger at the same time, even for the copper taste. And digging her fingertips into the holes left by the wolf's sharp fangs, she tore the rabbit open. She gave most of the it back to Grey Wind and kept the rest for herself. She could not risk lighting a fire to cook it, least they draw the attention of unwanted men who might be on the lookout for them—so she ate it raw.

It was gamey and stringy, and at times she gagged, but she chew it and swallowed it and kept it down and her stomach filled up. Grey licked the rabbits bones clean before he started to gnaw on them. Arya kept a few for herself as well, and cracked them open with a rock to suck out the fatty marrow in the bones.

They moved on after that. Grey Wind in front, with her following. Maybe the direwolf's animal instinct would take them towards safetly. She did not know what else to do, so followed the beast until she could come up with a better plan.

It was a few days later, that she finally realized that they were heading back south by the way the moss was growing on the tree trunks and the direction of the rising sun. She stopped. She hated south! She'd been trying to get away from south for nearly two years now, yet she kept coming back whether she wanted to or not. She despised the south and everyone who lived their; they were all liars, killers, and madmen.

The Hound had told her that her Uncle, Lord Edmure Tully, whom she had never met, was marrying a Frey girl to bound House Tully and House Frey. She did not know what came of her Uncle, but what she came to realize was that Riverrun was now in the clutches of the traitorous Freys. Riverrun was an enemy to her now, the last Stark. That was the only thing south that could draw her, but it was her enemy now. She could not head south.

They camped for the night, and Grey Wind went off hunting while she built a small makeshift fire that she would light when the wolf returned with food. She hated that she had to rely on the beast so much, not able to support her self. She felt defenceless without her dagger and had found a thick branch. She broke off the twigs and skinned it of the bark and had taken jagged rock to sharpening the end to a biting point. It was a short spear and now she wasn't as nervous now that she had it tucked into her belt.

When Grey Wind returned, it was with an adolescent bore clamped between his jaws. She carved out a chunk from its backside and left the rest to the wolf. He settled down with the hog as she lit the small fire by striking two stones together and blew the kindling of dry grass. She speared the hog flesh with a stick and held it over the single flame, slow-roasting the meat.

As the meat cooked, she thought about where they might go instead of south. She had been fighting her way north for the past two years and got no further than the Twins. Of course, they could head back that way and circle around the twin castles, but once they did that, where would they go? She didn't know who was still loyal to Robb now that he was dead. Winterfell belonged to the Greyjoys, and the Boltons and Karstarks were traitors. All that lay north for her was Jon at the Wall, and it would take the better part of a year to get there—and with her luck in such things she might never reach it. West was out of the question, the only thing that way where the Greyjoys.

Her meat cooked, she kept the fire lit as she ate. For her, this was like a feast in Winterfell's Great Hall on the simple fact that the meat was cooked. She'd been eating raw, scared of what trouble lighting a small fire to roast the meat that Grey Wind returned with would bring, but she had deemed that they had moved far enough away from their enemies to risk it. Blood and supple juices dripped from her chin but she didn't care, this was the best meal she had had in ages.

After she ate all her share of the kill, she sucked the juices from the stick and poked the dying embers in her makeshift fire pit, pulling what heat she might from it before it could completely go out. Grey Wind had finished with his hog carcass and went of patrolling the area, and Arya laid back next to the embers and looked up into the sky with a sigh.

They only ate a night, or at least she did, for all she knew the wolf snuck snacks in between his patrols. Grey Wind was the sole provider, he did the work for two. She felt guilty and useless, she hated sitting around and doing nothing while he did everything. His wound hadn't turned sepsis and was scabbing healthily for which she was grateful, and he seemed no worse for wear than she did.

She fished inside her belt and pulled out the small coin the man from Braavos, Jaqen H'ghar had given her after he helped her and Gendry and Hot Pie escape from Harrenhal—valar morghulis. He said that if she ever wanted to be like he was or find him again all she need do was give the coin to any man from Braavos and say the words, valar morghulis.

She was fingering the dark iron coin in thought when Grey Wind came back, the fire completely dead now. He settled down next to her, his head nestled down on his front paws when it came to her.

"That's it!" she blurted.

Grey Wind's ears flicked at the sudden outburst of her voice, his body tensing, but he seemed to relax as she sat up and saw the grin on her face.

"See this, Grey Wind?" Arya asked, holding the coin out for him to seen. He sniffed it curiously, huffing. "This will get us away from this place. Jaqen said that it would. On the morrow we head east to the closest port. Yes, that's what we'll do!"

She ruffled the direwolf's velvet-like ears happily before she laid back on the ground with a sigh, holding the coin above her so that it lined up with the full moon, creating a dark spot.

"Valar morghulis," she whispered in the night, pressing the cold coin to her lips before she tucked it back safly in her belt. She had no idea what the words meant, but she kept them close to her heart because these were the words of their salvation. She turned on her side, using her arm like a makeshift pillow and curled against the big wolf for warmth. Whether this was truly the right course of action instead of trying to head north to the Wall and Jon, they would soon find out.

With the sunrise she rose, making water before they set off once again. She didn't know whether Grey Wind had understood what she had said last night, but as she turned east, he had no choice but to follow her if he hadn't. She didn't have a clue as to how far south they had gone, all she was sure was that they were going east now. East was where all the ports were located, she knew, that headed across the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities. A big port was White Harbour, but they were south now so that didn't help them much.

It was a day and a half when they crossed over a wide dirt road that had seen lots of traffic and she was sure that it was King's Road. But that didn't help as much as she wished it had in getting her bearings of their whereabouts. She wished she had a map, or allowed to go to Maester Luwin's lessons instead of Septa Mordane's, but it was too late for things like that.

It was a day later that Arya realized she was no longer leading Grey Wind, but he was leading her. Maybe he had understood what she wanted when she told him about heading east that night.

She would just have to trust the direwolf. He hadn't led her wrong yet.

Her brain told her this was mad, but her heart told her it wasn't. She had so little left in her heart, but Grey Wind would never steer her wrong. He was a beast, and beasts had uncanny direction and ways to find water—so might be he could find a port. She follow him until they came upon a town or an inn and then she would ask for the nearest port as the wolf hid in the trees. It seemed so simple, and would be until it wasn't, but she wasn't scared.

They been travelling for about fortnight now since the Twins. They had come across a few houses, but they had snuck around them like the wind, she knew they could not help her.

When they settled down for the night and ate, it was to a meal that Arya had caught. There was a small stream nearby, and she'd been able to spear—after an hour or might be—some fish the her homemade spear. She knew that the five fish she had caught would not be enough for the two of them, as she took two for herself and Grey Wind got the last three, so after he ate his share in three whole bights, she wasn't angered when he went off to hunt for himself.

She'd built another smile fire and cooked the fish. It was nice to have a change and she'd even found some wild onion growing on the stream bed, she ate a few with her fish, but plucked the rest to take with them on the morrow.

After she was done eating, she washed her hands and face it the cold water and dried by the dying fire. It was out by the time that Grey Wind returned with a fresh scent of blood about him—his hunt a success.

He settled across from her and she sat with her knees drawn to her chest, watching the beast, so thankful to have him with her. She never truly realized how human Grey Wind's eyes truly looked.

She got on her knees and reached across to the startled beast, grasping either side of his big head and stared into his eyes and he looked back with a familiar-ness that was somewhat unnerving. She remembered Nymeria, and sometimes she could swear the wolf had looked back at her with a human gaze. But this was different. She tried to remember back when she had last seen Grey Wind before this war had started, back when they were all whole and happy in their home at Winterfell. Had Grey Wind's eyes also been this blue? A blue that reminded her of her Mother's Tully-blue eyes. A blue that made her think off...

"Robb," she whispered. The wolf's ear flickered at the name and his head moved in her grasp, almost as if he were nodding. Arya scoffed and released his head, sitting back. "I must be loosing it. Robb is dead. And the dead stay dead." She said bitterly. "He's gone, Grey Wind. Gone..."

She turned her head away, unable to stand him looking at her with Robb's eyes. She squeezed her own shut tight as the wolf let out a soft whimpering sound. No, she could not turn her back on the beast. Though he could never tell her as much, the girl knew that the wolf loved Robb just as much as she had. Turning from Grey Wind would be like turning from Robb. This direwolf was all she had left.

"I'm sorry, Grey Wind." she turned back to the huge beast where he had settled down on his stomach and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. "I know you miss him as much as I do. We're all we have left,"

He let out a sigh, his muzzle across the back of her shoulder.

After that, they settled down for the night. Thoughts of her brother's blue eyes following her into sleep.

The next day they came across an inn and whore house. She left Grey Wind and her spear behind in the cover of trees and approached the inn. There were lost of men, whores and even children running around. She saw no House sigils and felt relief that it was just smallfolk here. She blended in well with the others, some of them dirtier than her.

She took the safest bet and asked a working whore about the closest port and after a minute of trying to seduce her, thinking her a boy, and realizing she had no copper she finally told her of Saltpan, a small port just five days walk from there.

After hurrying back to Grey Wind, that was where they headed straight off.

Saltpans was a burned town dominated by nothing more than a holdfast, but the port was there and intact, lined with ships. Two were shallow draft boats, which her gaze ran over without a second look. It was the third one that took the girl's interest. It was bigger, a salt sea trader with two banks of oars, a gilded prow, three tall masts with furled sails. It was the only boat it could be, but she couldn't use the coin unless it was a Braavos ship. She'd left Grey Wind outside of the town, he would draw too much attention that they didn't need at the moment, even though the docks traversed a great many strange people, a direwolf would be the strangest, most memorable. It would draw attention to her as a Stark, and she'd be hunted down actively despite the war. She was thought dead and knew it was better that it stayed that way. But alone, it was easy enough to pull a man to a stop and ask him about the ship; he answered her being shooing her away like a pest but she didn't care. It was just her luck, in this instant the old gods must have been looking out for her; the ship was actually a galleass called Titan's Daughter of the Free City of Braavos.

Arya made her way to the end of the dock where the big ship was moored, currently being loaded with food and supplies before its departure. They'd arrived at Satlpan just in time. She approached the man who looked to be in charge, keeping order to the loading and approached him.

"Are you the captain?" she asked him.

He gave her but a glance. "I am, what is you want, girl?"

"I heard that you are to sail across the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities." She said.

"That is true. So what do you want, child? Be quick about it."

Arya took a deep breath. "I wish for passage to the Free Cities."

He looked at her then, long and hard. "No."

"I have coin!" she protested.

"Stag, silver, it does not matter. You cannot afford passage on my ship. Go home, girl." He dismissed her and started to move on.

She would not be ignored. "You are a man of Braavos, correct, my lord?"

"That is my home country, yes."

"Here." She dug in her belt for the coin. "I have an iron coin for passage."

He tried to wave her away but stopped when she pressed the coin into his hand. "H—" he inspected it, looking at her and blinking in clear surprise.

She remember what Jaqen had told her to do. Give the coin to a man of Braavos and say the words and he will take you to Braavos. "Valar morghulis." She replied.

"Valar dohaeris," he responded, touching two fingers to his brow. She had no idea what that meant either but it was a good sign. "Of course you shall have passage on my ship."

Arya felt relief sweep through her. She'd done it. But there was more, one little problem that wasn't so little. "I also have a beast that shall accompany me." She said firmly.

"What kind of beast?" the captain asked after a moment.

"A special kind of beast," she murmured. "A direwolf."

He stilled at that. "A d—"

"Yes." She set her shoulders firm, her voice taking the same tone. "He will accompany me, and you shall accommodate him, captain."

"As you say," he agreed after a moment, flipping the coin through his fingers. It really was magic, she thought. "A direwolf, eh? What a prospect." He turned from her and back to his ship, keeping the coin. "We leave by nightfall, be aboard by then."

Arya nodded and left again. She would wait until the sky darkened and the docks thinned out before she brought Grey Wind with her. She did not know how this would work, a winter animal in a hot desert, but they would find away. They were all the other had now. She would take care of the direwolf as he had taken care of her this last month. Together they would find a way.

-the end-

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Note:

So what did you think of this sequel, did it help complete the story? Did you think that through Arya's POV, it was truly Grey Wind or Robb as the direwolf? Your guess is as good as mine, take your pick of who you prefer—reader's choice! Don't be afraid to tell me.

Thanks for Reading!

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