Chapter 150 — Sisters Reunited, Yet the World Is Hell
"Gendry, I think they're not travelers."
Arya Stark lowered her voice immediately after shouting her surrender and hurriedly whispered to the blacksmith's apprentice.
"They're probably scouts from the Riverlands lords. They might even be scouts sent by King Robb Stark himself."
As she spoke, Arya didn't even notice the excitement she could barely suppress in her voice.
She couldn't identify which house the three riders belonged to.
In fact, she hadn't seen any obvious banners or sigils on them at all.
And even if there had been—
it wouldn't have helped her much.
Back in Winterfell, whenever Septa Mordane lectured about the histories of noble houses, Arya's mind would wander far away while she waited impatiently for the lesson to end.
She had never cared for titles or heraldry.
The only noble she could remember was Lord Cerwyn, whose lands lay close to Winterfell. He and his son Cley often visited.
"If Sansa were here, she might recognize what house they belong to."
After whispering this to Gendry, Arya suddenly thought of her sister—the sister she had never gotten along with.
She silently swore that if she ever saw Sansa again, she would apologize.
She would hug her.
And tell her that she loved her.
But that wasn't what mattered right now.
What mattered was this:
Were these riders truly scouts from the Riverlands?
Or perhaps soldiers from Robb Stark's army?
Either possibility meant the same thing.
She might be saved.
And even if they weren't—
then at worst, it would just mean more trouble.
After surviving real battles, Arya felt confident she and Gendry could take them down if given even the smallest opportunity.
So Arya stood up boldly, raising both hands high.
"We surrender!"
Meanwhile, hearing Arya's reasoning left Gendry stunned.
His mouth hung open.
After all, the very idea Arya was acting on now was something Lommy Greenhands used to babble about endlessly.
And Gendry himself had mocked Lommy for it more than once.
If he remembered correctly, even this Stark girl had once said something similar.
"Only knights and nobles take prisoners and ask for ransom. People like us surrendering won't mean a thing to them."
That was what Gendry had told Lommy when the boy complained that old Yoren should have surrendered to Ser Amory Lorch.
And Lommy had soon proven how wrong that hope was.
So seeing Arya actually choose to surrender left Gendry dumbfounded.
He had never seen that stubborn kid—no, this shaved-headed noble girl—act like this before.
She never seemed to give up.
Even when she prayed at night, she replaced the names of the gods with the names of the people she wanted to kill.
But after hearing her explanation and remembering who she really was, Gendry began to understand.
His thoughts drifted until—
thump!
Arya kicked him lightly in the leg.
"Get up!" she whispered urgently.
"That knight has already seen you. The arrow was a warning!"
Gendry snapped out of it and slowly stood up.
Since they weren't running, Weasel calmed down too—though Arya still held her wrist tightly.
The three of them stepped out cautiously from behind the crumbling house and onto the muddy path outside the courtyard.
Meanwhile, Podrick, Sansa, and Jalabhar Xho had already ridden close enough to see them clearly.
They couldn't help but stare curiously at the three children who had dared to hide in such a devastated village.
But as Podrick's gaze fell on Arya—
on the obvious shaved head…
on the unmistakable Stark features—the long face and gray eyes—
his eyes suddenly widened.
"Wait… you… you are…"
But before Podrick could finish—
Arya suddenly shouted in shock.
"You're Sansa!"
Her voice came out faster than Podrick's realization.
"You're Sansa!"
She cried out again in disbelief.
Sansa Stark, who had not recognized the figure at first while sitting on her horse, froze as soon as she heard the familiar voice.
It was as if lightning had struck her.
And once Arya confirmed that the girl on horseback was truly Sansa Stark, she could no longer contain herself.
With a cry of joy—
Arya rushed forward and threw herself toward her sister.
Sansa froze for only a moment when she realized that the ugly, shaved head belonged to her sister, Arya Stark.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
She reacted exactly the same way Arya had.
All the grace and composure she once tried to maintain vanished instantly.
She scrambled off her horse in a hurry, not caring that her skirts and cloak dragged through the mud. Stumbling forward, she rushed toward her sister.
The two sisters, reunited after so long and under such terrible circumstances, forgot every quarrel they had ever had.
They threw themselves into each other's arms.
Family.
That was all that mattered now.
Holding each other tightly, both of them burst into uncontrollable sobs.
They cried with broken voices, tears streaming down their faces, unable to form complete words.
Only after the storm of emotion slowly faded did they begin telling each other what had happened during their time apart.
But the more they spoke, the more they cried.
---
Nearby, Jalabhar Xho stared in shock.
"Is that really Miss Arya Stark of House Stark?"
He vaguely remembered seeing Arya in King's Landing before.
But in his memory, the young daughter of Lord Eddard Stark did not look like this.
As a man from the Summer Isles, Jalabhar was already somewhat face-blind when it came to the pale people of Westeros.
Yet even so, comparing the lively girl he remembered with the shaved-headed child before him made it difficult to believe they were the same person.
Podrick was equally surprised.
After all, when he had still been fighting alongside Tywin Lannister at the Trident, Eddard Stark had already been executed by King Joffrey.
Podrick knew only that Sansa Stark had been kept in King's Landing as a hostage by Cersei Lannister.
As for the rest of the Stark family, he had heard nothing.
He did not even know whether Arya Stark had survived as she had in the original story.
And when he thought about the timeline—
From the battle at the Trident…
to their arrival in King's Landing…
to all the chaos they had caused there…
and then returning to the Riverlands—
more than two months had already passed.
Under those circumstances, who would have imagined that Arya would still be wandering the Riverlands?
And that they would run into her like this?
Could such coincidences truly exist?
Or…
had Arya simply followed the same fate she had in the original story?
With that thought, Podrick's gaze shifted toward the boy standing nearby—one hand behind his back, the other holding the hand of a small, confused little girl.
Podrick nudged his horse forward, riding past the sisters who were still kneeling in the mud and crying together.
He stopped in front of Gendry and Weasel.
Seeing the mounted knight approach, Weasel tried to run in panic, but Gendry held her firmly.
"Tell me your name, boy," Podrick said.
He studied the youth before him—blue eyes, thick black hair, tall and broad-shouldered, with the sturdy build of someone used to hard work.
Gendry looked up.
He noticed the confident young knight on horseback, the dark-skinned servant riding behind him, and the enormous sword hanging beside the saddle.
"Gendry… ser," he replied, awkwardly kneeling on one knee like he had seen customers do at the forge whenever important nobles visited.
"Lift your head," Podrick said.
"And your trade—what did you do before all this?"
Hearing the name Gendry made Podrick sigh inwardly.
Still, he asked again.
Gendry answered honestly.
"I'm a blacksmith's apprentice. I studied at Tobho Mott's armory."
"So it really is him…" Podrick muttered with surprise and a hint of amusement.
After confirming the identities of Arya and Gendry, Podrick's gaze shifted toward the little girl who kept trying to escape.
"And her? Is she your daughter?"
"No, ser," Gendry replied quickly.
"Yoren found her on the road. Her mother was with her, but she died the next day."
"So you've been taking care of her ever since?"
"It was Arry—no… Miss Arya Stark who took care of her."
Podrick glanced briefly toward the sisters still crying together.
Then he looked back.
"You must all be hungry," he said.
"And those two young ladies probably need time to finish their tears."
"Do you know how to care for horses?"
"No," Gendry admitted blankly. "I only know how to forge iron."
"So you can make fire, then?"
"Good. You're in charge of that."
He nodded toward the child.
"I'll take the girl."
"Jalabhar, take care of the horses."
"We'll leave later."
With that, Podrick dismounted and gently patted Weasel's head.
The child squeezed her eyes shut in fear at first.
But when she realized he was only patting her head, she slowly opened them again.
A pair of gentle brown eyes smiled down at her.
---
Gendry remained kneeling in confusion.
He had never met anyone like Podrick before.
Especially not someone so young.
Besides the giant sword hanging from the saddle, Gendry also noticed a helmet adorned with massive golden antlers.
He vaguely remembered that his master Tobho Mott had forged that helmet himself.
But its owner should have been Renly Baratheon.
Not this calm young knight.
Meanwhile, Jalabhar Xho was not surprised by Podrick's orders.
In just a few days, he had already grown accustomed to the strange habits of his terrifyingly powerful new master.
"Yes, Lord Payne."
He dismounted and led the horses away to graze.
Only then did Gendry slowly stand and search for dry wood.
The unlucky village had already been burned once before they arrived.
Most of what remained was ash and charred ruins.
Eventually, Gendry had to walk quite far to gather enough fresh wood.
But when he returned—
the mood had grown even heavier.
Yoren's body had been brought outside.
Podrick hesitated briefly before speaking.
"According to Night's Watch customs… we should burn the body first, correct?"
Arya nodded quietly, her eyes hollow as she looked at the corpse.
"I think so…"
"Then we'll do it that way."
Podrick nodded and looked at Gendry.
Gendry stared at the small bundle of firewood in his arms.
Clearly, it was nowhere near enough to cremate a body.
At best it would only roast it.
In the end, Podrick did most of the work.
He cut down several trees nearby, using the Stark family's Valyrian steel sword, Ice, like an axe.
Soon he had chopped the wood into proper logs.
Yoren's body was placed on top.
Arya lit the pyre.
Wet wood burned poorly, sending thick smoke into the air.
Standing upwind, Podrick began awkwardly reciting a eulogy.
"He was a sworn brother of the Night's Watch."
"A wandering crow who spent his life recruiting men for the order he served."
"No one knows what his life was before the black cloak."
"But after joining the Watch, he served faithfully and tirelessly."
"He died defending justice, kindness, and the weak."
"May the gods guide his soul to heaven…"
"May he never have to return to this world…"
After struggling to find the right words, Podrick paused.
Then added quietly:
"His watch is ended."
---
The funeral lasted until evening.
Arya gathered Yoren's ashes in a clay jar she had found somewhere.
Together with Podrick and the others, they built a small grave for the man who had served the Night's Watch for thirty years.
The gravestone was only a wooden plank.
On it were carved the words:
Night's Watch — Yoren
---
Dinner was once again eaten in the abandoned village.
Afterward, everyone went to sleep without speaking much.
Weasel naturally curled up beside Arya, and for the first time in a long while they had a warm sleeping bag.
Soon the house filled with the sounds of snoring.
But Sansa could not sleep.
She had eaten only a small bite before losing her appetite.
Lying on the straw, she stared at the ceiling.
Eventually she turned her head.
The familiar figure was nowhere inside.
When she stepped outside, she found him sitting on a low wall.
The moon tonight was as bright as it had been that night.
Silver light fell across him.
Brighter than the white cloak of the Kingsguard.
Without realizing it, she walked over and sat beside him.
Together they looked up at the stars.
"What are you looking at?" Sansa asked softly, as if afraid to disturb something.
Podrick replied calmly.
"I'm wondering whether the gods truly sit in the clouds…"
"Or if they're somewhere among those stars."
Sansa tilted her head, unable to fully understand his meaning.
They sat silently for a moment, listening to each other's breathing.
Then Sansa turned toward him again.
"Why did you say in the eulogy…"
"'May he never return to this world'?"
Podrick's answer came quietly.
"Because he doesn't deserve hell."