"... I do. I'll get to that part. It doesn't include Arya. But I suppose it's important." He rubbed awkwardly at his arms, willing the cold away. "The Mountain... the man was a monster," Gendry admitted. He'd heard the Mountain was dead now. That, at least, was a comfort for everyone who had ever seen him. "But Harenhal was filled with that sort."

"We stayed as prisoners for some time. We might have died, but Tywin Lannister thought we'd be more use working than rotting in the ground. I was put to work as a smith. She was made to be his cupbearer. We stayed that way for awhile. I don't remember how long. Weeks, maybe?

But she had a Braavosi friend who helped us escape. Just the three of us. Me, her, and a boy we called Hot Pie. A baker's boy. That was how we met the Brotherhood without Banners." He chuckled darkly. "We had the worst luck, us. Someone always managed to capture us, no matter how careful we tried to be. This time it wasn't my fault. They'd captured the Hound, too. He recognized Arya for who she was."

Before that, Gendry had always been dubious of her real identity. He never questioned it, but he never truly believed. That moment had cemented it.