For the first time in a long while, Arya's heart was hammering so hard it hurt.
Mormont?
Lyanna Mormont?
This… this couldn't be right.
Those Lannister knights had bragged loud and clear that Bear Island's banners were already hanging from their saddles like trophies.
Unless…
"Uh, yeah, I'm Yoren," the old crow squinted into the dark. "But I count a dozen of you, and only one's bothered to give a name—and it's a woman. What's hiding behind the daughter of Bear Island?"
"Call me Tom of the Sevenstreams," a tall man drawled, giving a lazy, mocking bow. "Pitching camp by an old tomb's not exactly lucky. Folks say the dead get bored down there and like company…"
"I don't reckon Lord Walder's that kind of man," Yoren spat. "If he was half as fair as the stories claim, he wouldn't turn the Watch away… but he'd sure enjoy seeing your leader finally show her face. You or her—neither of you looks like you're in charge."
"The old maester always said ravens were clever birds," the last figure spoke, voice steady and calm. "These men are under my command, Yoren. I'm Brynden Tully, Lord of Riverrun, commander of the Brotherhood of the Trident, and the new lord of these lands."
Uncle?!
But… that was impossible!
Every village and castle for miles had been saying the Blackfish was dead.
Every Lannister was bragging they were the one who killed him.
Uncle… Arya's mind spun with shock, excitement, and raw panic.
What was she supposed to do?
Reveal herself right now?
Wait?
Or stay quiet and keep heading north?
"So you're not dead?" Yoren blurted.
"No," Ser Brynden answered flatly. "And the Lannisters are going to regret it soon enough."
"I'd wish you luck, ser, but I don't think you need it."
"We came to offer your men a choice," the Blackfish said, sweeping his gaze across the camp. "Maybe some of them will want to reconsider."
"They put on the black the moment they made their choice," Yoren shot back.
"But the world's changed since then, crow."
Arya had no choice but to step forward with the others.
The shock of a dead man walking wasn't just hers. Every recruit in camp wanted to hear what came next.
"War's broken out up north. Bolton and Manderly are tearing each other apart fighting over who gets to be regent for young Lord Stark. Both sides are raising men as fast as they can. And now ironborn ships are raiding the northern coast. Who knows what those bastards are after, but I can tell you this—if you think they'll respect your black flag, you're a fool. Half of you won't even make it to the Wall."
"Die?"
"We've got thirty armed men. Who would dare—"
"Anyone would dare!"
"Haven't you heard what the ironborn are doing?"
"Those bastards would do anything…"
"We took vows…"
"Quiet!"
Gendry's roar cut through the noise like a blade.
To everyone's surprise, it actually worked.
"Please continue, my lord."
"I give you a choice," Brynden Tully said, his voice carrying clear across the clearing. "You can keep marching north and spend the rest of your days freezing on the Wall, guarding the realm against old wives' tales, chewing on turnips, staring into the dark, and wondering if you should just jump. Assuming you live long enough to get there."
He paused.
"Or you can stay here with us and do something that actually matters for the realm."
"What kind of something?" Watt asked eagerly.
"Killing Lannisters, of course."
Another voice came out of the night.
Arya froze.
That voice… it was so familiar.
Exactly the same!
Could it really be Theon Greyjoy—her father's ward?
That annoying, arrogant ironborn who always bullied her and Jon, who loved making himself look big by putting everyone else down—impatient, proud… and now his own blood kin were burning and raiding the North.
But he was alive.
And he wanted to kill Lannisters.
Mother always said Uncle was an excellent judge of character. He wouldn't waste time on useless men.
Had the gods played some cruel joke, sending the relative she hated most straight to her?
"Theon's right," the Blackfish said, driving another knife into Arya's heart without meaning to. "The realm has real enemies now, not monsters from old women's stories. I need every man willing to stand with me. I won't promise an easy victory or easy days… I don't lie, and I won't start now. But I swear on the honor of House Tully of Riverrun that when we win, I won't forget the ones who joined us in our darkest hour. They'll get the biggest share."
The first to break the silence was Gendry.
"Will you kill the queen's men?"
"Yes. That's exactly what we're going to do."
"I'll go with you, Lord Brynden," Gendry said firmly. "I was Tobho Mott's apprentice in King's Landing. I can work a forge, and…"
"Perfect. We need men like you. What's your name?"
"Gendry."
"Uh." Yoren spat. "Gendry, did you forget why you ran from King's Landing? All of you swore an oath to the Watch. Deserting is a death sentence. My brothers have a duty to—"
"The crow crossing the border got it wrong," Brynden Tully cut in with quiet authority. "No one here is going to die tonight. I give you my word—anyone who wants to keep heading north can go. We won't stop you."
"Let every man decide for himself, crow," Theon said, his voice dripping with the mocking tone Arya remembered all too well. "We've got the numbers… and I think a lot of the men you recruited would rather stay right here in these autumn woods."
"Thank you, Yoren," the young apprentice said calmly. "I remember why I ran. I don't want to run any farther."
Arya's new friend—maybe her only friend—stepped out of the line and broke with the black.
But what happened next went far beyond anything Brynden Tully had expected.
Gendry took a few steps forward, and Arya, who had been hiding behind him, was suddenly completely exposed—staring straight into Theon Greyjoy's eyes.
"Lord Tully!" Theon shouted, rushing toward her without hesitation. "My lord! Here—!"
A moment later his voice boomed across the entire hillside.
"It's Arya Stark!"
The camp exploded into chaos—shock, outrage, disbelief, confusion… The Night's Watch recruits couldn't believe the orphan Arry was actually a highborn lady.
The Brotherhood men were just as stunned.
Only Yoren and Lord Brynden stayed silent.
"Have you been drinking sour wine again, Greyjoy?" Lyanna Mormont said, still not believing her own eyes. "You see Lord Eddard's daughter in this wildling brat?"
"Little Bear, which one of us lived with Lord Eddard's children for years in Winterfell?" Theon shot back, already right in front of the girl. "This is Arya. Filthy, stinking, tired, and skinny… but she's Arya Stark. No doubt about it."
"You…" the last of House Tully said slowly, his eyes on her. "Tell me your name. Whoever you really are."
The moment of truth had come.
She could play dumb, change her voice, slip into the shadows, let Theon make a fool of himself like he always did, and keep heading north.
But Arya remembered Gendry's question and his answer.
She suddenly understood—if she revealed herself, she could stay.
Lord Brynden would never send his sister's daughter back north, not to traitors and ironborn.
And if she stayed, she could avenge her father, Robb, her captured mother and sister.
"I'm sorry, Bran. I'm sorry, Rickon," she thought.
"Yes, Lord Brynden. It's me. Arya Stark of Winterfell."
Arya tried to curtsy, but the movement was clumsy and awkward.
She lifted her head and looked straight into her uncle's eyes.
"I ask you, my lord—let me join your Brotherhood."
——
Ps: The story line has been changing since Daemon Blackfyre's rebirth. Everything is heading into unknown directions.