Everybody wants to rule the world

Arya II

Arya willed her horse to a slow pace as her companions finally caught up with her. She had rode ahead trying to get her mind to steady and for the news to sink in, good and bad alike.

It was a conundrum, really. She was supposed to feel proud of Jon and be ecstatic because he was now crowned the King, and after years of ignorance, he would finally get what he deserved. He would be respected and loved, and that was something Arya knew Jon Snow had always craved for but never said out loud. Her mother's ignorance and his status as the bastard had always made Jon feel low. He didn't tell her- he never told no one- but Arya had always known him and loved him more than anyone else.

But on the other hand, her other brother was dead. Her little brother, whom she never got the chance to know properly. Ramsay Bolton had killed him and Arya had made up her mind to give him the gift when Beric told her he was already dead, devoured by his own hungry and bloodthirsty hounds. It was not quite so unlike a death she would have give him herself.

It was hard to talk after that, so she had only nodded when Beric had offered her to come with him and the others. She was not going to stay with them, that much she was sure of. She knew where she wanted to go.

Vengeance was something she couldn't give up, but right now, she needed to see her family- or what was left of them. She needed Jon to smile at her with his lovely eyes and Sansa to look at her clothes with disapproval. She needed to make sure they were safe. They were the last of her pack, and she wasn't going to let anyone kill them or slaughter them.

The pack must survive.

Revenge drove her forward. It kept her awake at night, and it made her who she was. Everything she was, she wouldn't be if she wasn't so driven to bring justice for her dead parents and siblings. Her list had two names still.

And justice will be served, no matter what.

"We are almost there," Beric told her. They were heading towards the place the Brotherhood stayed. It would do some good for her to see old acquaintances, she thought and nodded.

I'll leave after night falls, she decided. Beric would be long asleep.

Sandor was quiet beside her. She wanted to ask him how he had survived those wounds, but he looked like he didn't appreciate her company. It didn't surprise her in the least.

After riding for fifteen minutes, they finally reached their destination. She noticed only one figure from where she was, and no one else was in sight.

"I see only Thoros. Where are the others?" She asked, glancing around.

"They are in the back, most likely." Beric jumped down from his horse, and Arya followed.

"They would be surprised to see you, Princess," he added.

Arya shot him a brief look.

"I'm not a Princess," she said. "Don't call me that again."

"But you are," Beric insisted.

Arya shook her head and walked forward. Thoros turned, and from the look on his face, he was remembering her though it was coming slowly to him. It took a while before he finally recognized her. Thoros stood up with wide eyes and bowed clumsily. Arya remembered a time when she used to be clumsy. Now she couldn't afford to be.

"Arya Stark of Winterfell," he acknowledged.

"That's better," Arya said, turning to smirk at Beric.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, My Lady," Thoros said.

"Neither did I," a voice called.

Arya turned her head and her heart leapt in her chest. Her grey eyes were met by a pair as blue as the sky. He was gaping at her, his jaw dropped. He was staring at her like she was someone he'd never seen before.

"M'lady."

She ran to him and jumped up at him, as his strong arms enveloped her little body. Arya was sure she had lost him, that after the Red Woman took him, she had killed him.

But he isn't dead.

Gendry was right here, her only best friend since leaving home. They once finished sentences together, like she did with Jon what felt like decades ago.

"You've grown heavier," he muttered and she kicked him lightly. He grimaced.

"Shut up, bull."

Arya pulled herself away and laughed.

"It's good to see you again, Arry," Gendry said, looking down at her with a smile. He was so tall now, and bigger, but he still smiled liked an i***t would.

"You too, old friend," she whispered with equal fondness in her voice. She remembered how angry she'd been when the Red Woman had taken him away.

"Her," she said, remembering the woman and her words to her. "She took you. What happened?"

Gendry lowered his eyes to the ground and shook his head. When he looked back up at her, he was smiling but it didn't reach his eyes.

"It's the past, Arry. I don't want to talk about it."

"It's alright," she assured him. They couldn't change the past even if they wanted to, and perhaps it would be wise not to recall things not worth recalling.

"So, Milady," he said and received a punch inthe arm for it. "Will you stay?"

She didn't want to lie to him but she couldn't stay either. She wanted to go home to Winterfell, and roaming around with the Brotherhood would only result in delays she couldn't afford.

"I'm still thinking," she said. It wasn't the truth, but wasn't a lie either. Not really.