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Chapter Text

Arya Stark’s body ached like an old plow horse. An old plow horse that had broken down years ago but still was forced to work the crops. Arya’s breaths came in short gasps and her chest hurt every time she tried to inhale a breath. She was sure she had broken a couple of ribs from one of the White Walkers slamming into her chest. She stumbled and grunted as she was reminded of the stab wound she had received to her right thigh. It was blistering with heat and pulsing with pain. She had wrapped it well, but she needed a maester soon or she was going to bleed out and die like so many others had already done on the battle field.

Her vision was blurred and it was an internal struggle just to keep herself from falling over in exhaustion. She could also hear the heavy loud sound of her pulse beating as the blood was struggling to circulate where it needed to keep her alive.

No one could help her on the battle field because the side she was fighting for was getting heavily slaughtered. Cersei had once again betrayed her family and not sent the troops she had promised to Winterfell. This betrayal would be Cersei’s last. Arya’s heart yearned for revenge and she swore to herself she would have Cersei’s head on a stake before her last breath. 

This meant she needed to make it out of this war alive.

Through her vision coming and going she could see the massacre in front of her. Sole torsos littered the ground. Limbs and body parts were everywhere. Arya nearly tripped over a body which had a group of exposed intestines and gore hanging out of it. She was nearly to a protected forested area when a harsh force bellowed into her shoulder.

She saw the blood and flesh spray from her shoulder as the head of an arrow burst through muscle and tissue. The ungodly force had knocked her to her hands and knees. “Aagh!” She cried. The dark voice inside her head laughing maliciously while it shouted at her that this was the end for her. She would be just a memory in the War of Winter.

Her hands gripped the earth underneath her fingers and gritted her teeth, growling in agony as the pain shot from her shoulder down to the stab wound in her thigh.

Suddenly a familiar Braavosi voice echoed in her head, shoving the dark voice out of her head, ‘What do we say to the God of Death?’

She gripped the earth tighter and said through bared teeth, “Not today!”

The words were powerful but when she didn't get her full strength back by shouting these few words, she found it to be just a wishful thought that she would immediately recover. This was not a theatrical play like she had seen many times in Braavos. This was a real battle. And the harsh reality was she was going to die.

Her body hurt all over. Her breaths were getting shallower and more struggled. The pain in her shoulder exploded anytime she went to move off the ground. Her vision was struggling more than it was before and she felt her arms shake. Her body was almost ready to give up and have her lay there and die.

Her life didn’t flash through her eyes like many had told her it would, but a list of names did.

Ilyn Payne

Her arms straightened and she forced herself to control her breathing.

The Red Woman

She grimaced as she forced herself to her knees, biting her lip as the pain in her thigh now added to the burning in her shoulder.

The Mountain

She put her good leg out in front of her and stayed there for a minute to prepare her for the complete anguish she was about to have to endure. The sounds of metal swords clashing against White walkers were fading further away from her. That meant either the battle was moving further away, or she was about to pass out.

With one last deep breath she growled under her breath, “Cersei!” And brought herself to her feet. Arya hissed at her body’s refusal to take her any further, but she forced through it. Soon after reciting the rest of the names on her list over and over to herself she had finally made it to the forested area.

She made it to a tree and slowly slid down the rough bark, making sure not to disturb the arrow in her shoulder. As she laid against the cool bark of the oak tree, her eyes were getting heavier and heavier. She went to push her hair out of her face, but as she did her hand had met a sticky substance. After bringing her hand away from her head to inspect, she saw a fresh coat of crimson red covering her pale fingers. After further investigation she could only assume that she had an open face wound going from her forehead, down and across her left eye, and ending down her cheek. From what she could tell by sight and physical touch, she still had an eyeball where the wound was.

She tipped her head up in complete exasperation. She could vaguely see the War still going on from a distance. Unsullied, Dothraki, and the Winterfell army were holding ranks as best as they could, but it was nonetheless a slaughter. She could also make out a full-on dragon brawl between the Night King and Daenerys.

Her focus wavered from the battle in front of her and she whimpered as her whole body felt like it was being burned alive by one of the dragons. The blood from her arrow wound now coated her whole entire arm, spewing fast like the current of a river. A warm river. The older knife wound at her thigh was also allowing her no mercy. Her wrap was completely drenched, and excess blood was leaking through it.

This is how it ends.

As the thought crossed her mind, blackness swept over the last few strands of consciousness she had left and then there was nothing.

Chapter Text

It was memory. It was a memory of something that had occurred before the war had started. For a moment she thought the war had just been a dream, but a part of her knew she had died on that battle field. That her body was slumped against that tree and her blood was still flowing out of her. Her heart had stopped pumping moments ago and the darkness had just ignited a fond memory. Maybe this was the afterlife. But she was maybe okay with that… If she could just be in this memory forever, she would be okay with that:

The only thing waking Arya from her deep slumber was the creeping chill slowly making its way from her feet to her bare shoulders. As her eyes slowly fluttered open, she realized Gendry was laying on his back and she was curled into his side. Gendry had subconsciously pulled more covers to his side of the bed in his sleep.

When her senses slowly started coming back to her, she noticed instead of her right hand on his shirt it was laying against his bare muscled chest. She was surprised to realize he had stripped down to nothing but his small-clothes around his waist. She looked up at his face and smiled when she saw the relaxed expression showing. She sighed and snuggled back into his side and tried going back to sleep but then a slight breeze in the room chilled her body again.

She thought about ripping the sheets from him and bringing them back around her but then she got an even more daring thought. With a small playful smirk, Arya slowly brought one of her legs over his waist and made sure to keep the covers around them.

Once Arya was comfortably straddling him, she slightly grinded her pelvis against his. Slowly and softly putting her hands to his chest, she applied more pressure to his groin. She heard the sharp inhale of breath come from her partner and her confidence shot up immensely. She felt his stiff, clothed member against her bare cunt which made her let out a small sigh of want and close her eyes.

Arya was caught off guard when she felt strong hands grip her hips and expertly move her from his crotch. In a matter of seconds, she found herself underneath Gendry’s hard body. He was hovering over her and even in the darkness of her room she could see his light colored eyes studying her. His eyes were intense, like he was studying her.

“Gendry… I want you.” Arya almost didn’t recognize the pleading tone in her voice as she brought one of her hands to his face. She was surprised to see him flinch at her touch. She could see he was battling something internally within himself and she brought her hand away from him. He was facing her, still hovering over her body, but his eyes were looking anywhere but at her.

“What’s wrong?” Arya asked, hoping he would bring his eyes back to her. He did not. And that made a small burst of anger rise in her chest, “I swear to the gods Gendry, if you are having second thoughts about me I will-“

Gendry cut her off and his eyes came to rest on her face, “Gods no. I just thought… I thought you were her.” Arya gave him a confused look at his reply and Gendry brought his hand to her face, slowly stroking her cheek, “The red woman. She did horrible things to me and would have killed me if I hadn’t been rescued. With you on top of me like that...”

He looked away from her but she brought her hand to one of his arms, trailing her fingertips down his bicep, "She told me I would see her again. I hope that premonition comes true because I will make her wish she had never touched you."

A small smile finally crossed his features and it soon turned into a smirk as his hand traveled from her chin, to her neck, down her side, and then finally to her wet mound of dark curls. She returned his playful look and closed her eyes, her mouth slightly opening as a breath escaped her throat when his fingers entered her.

After a few rounds of his fingers exploring her, she whispered his name and he withdrew his fingers. He ducked his head into the crook of her neck and he felt his teeth graze her shoulder and then bite harder. It didn’t hurt but she let out a sharp whimper in response to his mouth and he ceased his actions. He brought his face from her neck and looked right at her. He brought his lips to hers and she accepted his request and passionately kissed him back. As his tongue softly entered her mouth, his hand came to one of her breasts and squeezed the flesh softly. She reached to the front of his small-clothes and started undoing them. She had almost completed her task when Gendry’s lips departed from hers and his hand went from her breast to rest on her hand.

“Do you really want to do this?” He asked, his raspy voice was thick with lust but his eyes showed uncertainty.

Arya nodded, “Yes.” Her breath was erratic, but she rolled her eyes at his imploring expression, “Yes, Gendry, I want you to fuck me.”

Gendry almost was thrown off by her words but playfully snickered, “Do you even know what you’re asking for? Have you even had a man inside you before?”

Arya gave an impatient huff, “No but I know what I want. I want you to shut up and put your cock inside me.”

Gendry nodded, shimmying his bottom clothes off his waist, “As m’lady commands.”

Arya glared at him which only made his smirk grow larger as he brought her closer to him. He positioned himself at her entrance and started off slowly entering her but then gave one swift push. A pained gasp left her lips and her hands dug into the bed sheets underneath her. The pain was great but he was mindfully staying still inside her. His lips kissed the side of her head and whispered, “You feel so good, Arya.” She smiled through the soreness and soon her body was adjusting gradually to his size. A small breath escaped her lips as he shifted and his cock brushed something deep inside her, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. His face was now nestled in the crook of her neck again and he whispered sweet things into her ear between breaths.

She shifted her hips against his, trying to signal to him that she was begging him to continue. He still took his sweet time with her, pulling out of her slowly and then slowly sheathing himself fully into her again. The pain was still there but it was getting more bearable the more he moved and created a delicious amount of friction.

After a few of his soft and long thrusts into her she arched her back and growled between bare teeth, “Faster.” 

He breathlessly laughed at her bossiness and obliged her command, his hips coming forward in a faster, controlled rhythm. His grunts echoed in her ears and her own gasps and pleas echoed throughout her room. She soon felt the familiar feeling deep in her stomach, the same feeling she felt when his mouth had been on her hours before.

Suddenly his lips were on hers and she brought her arms around his neck, feet coming to anchor around his waist securely. His mouth departed from hers but his lips came to linger centimeters in front of her face. Arya was on the edge of complete euphoria, but her body was not allowing her the satisfaction she craved. Then all to quickly, he angled his hips in a certain way and that was her undoing. 

In the haze of her climax she felt Gendry begin moving inside her again, this time grasping her right leg and angling himself so he could thrust deeper into her core. Just as her first release had come, she found herself back to panting for the sweet release she craved so much. He was watching her face and she was returning his pleasurable gaze, as he once again picked up his speed. He let go of her leg and brought his hands to her face, bringing their lips together in a sensual kiss. His moans matched her cries in unison, “Arya.” He breathed her name, “I… You’re perfect.”

She gasped in pleasure at his words and simultaneously found her release for the second time. Soon after she cried her release, Gendry gave one last heavy thrust into her and she felt his warm seed flow into her body. He almost collapsed on her but at the last minute rolled onto the opposite side of the bed, his chest heaving and breaths coming in gasps.

She curled into his side again, this time the covers were shared equally between the two. His strong arm came to rest around her shoulders. She lowered her head to rest on his chest and found herself slowly nodding off to sleep. Suddenly Arya felt a heavy weight on her shoulder, and the image of the memory slowly faded away.

Chapter Text

Arya felt a heavy hand grasp her shoulder and she immediately withdrew her dagger and went to strike but got a shooting pain went through her leg and shoulder which made her curse under her breath.

“Arya, it’s Jon.”

She barely registered his words because her consciousness was slipping again. And this time she let it go without a fight. She just wanted to go back to her bed. To the time before the war.

In the forge Arya sat on one of the unoccupied tables, whet stoning Needle as Gendry was working on more weapons. Arrows, swords, shields. He expertly crafted each weapon to perfection and Arya couldn’t help sneaking glances as he hammered the dragon glass with impeccable strength. His hands would run against the smoothness of the weapon once finished, and Gendry would smile in accomplishment.

He caught her staring once he finished his last batch he was going to make for the day. She flushed and snapped her eyes back to the sword in her lap. Not long after her lingering eyes had been noticed, she felt his presence in front of her and she laid her sword down beside her. She looked up at him and smiled brightly, “Can I help you, sir?” Her voice had a teasing feature to it and the grey of her eyes flashed at him enticingly.

He put both of his hands on both sides of the table where she was sitting and leaned forward. He was basically trapping her from escape, even though she knew she could escape if she really wanted too. His face was so close to hers she could smell the smoke essence he smelt of when working as a smith all day. He didn’t answer her question but instead caught her lips in a passionate kiss, which made her respond by putting her arms around his neck and pulling him in deeper. His hands left the table and immediately went around her waist, pulling her up from the table and holding her to him in a firm embrace.

The sound of the door opening vaguely caught her attention, but neither of them made a move to cease the searing kiss they were indulging themselves in. Soon after the door closed behind the person entering the forge, the man cleared this throat, but they were still too immersed in each other’s hold they ignored it.

“Arya, Seven Hells!”

Arya recognized Jon’s voice and their kiss ended but as Gendry put her down softly, he kissed her forehead tenderly before both turned to the King of the North. Gendry was slightly embarrassed, but Arya stared defiantly at her older relative.

Arya was suddenly jerked awake from her dream as the horse carrying her took a misstep. Someone was sitting behind her in the saddle and as she struggled to look at who it was the words of Jon Snow hit her ears, “Arya, just sit still.” She relaxed at the sound of his voice, but the swaying of the horse’s movements made her feel sick and she felt the bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t help the vomit that expelled from her mouth and ran off the side of the innocent animal’s neck. She didn’t even have the strength to wipe her mouth of the vile ruminants left on her lips.

She knew she was feverish. The pain in her thigh, face, and shoulder was almost too much to bear and she whimpered in pain as the horse took another misstep and jostled her body slightly. She heard an apology from Jon and a promise that they were almost to Winterfell.

She wanted to believe they had won the war against the White Walkers but all she wanted to do in that moment was go back to sleep. And that was what she did.

“Arya?”

The sound of her name brought her back to her senses but as soon as her body started alerting her to the agony she was currently healing from, she groaned and willed herself to go back to sleep. Her memories were keeping her company and that was easier to deal with than the certain situation she was in.

She was brutally aware of the wash cloth going over her facial wound and her hand immediately grabbed the wrist of the person who was doing the action.

“Arya, just let me do this.”

The voice she could now recognize as her older sister’s was firm but full of sympathy. Arya’s eyes opened and the pale face and red fiery hair greeted her line of vision. She took her hand off Sansa’s and allowed her too clean her now stitched wound. In reaction to the wash cloth going over the rough sutures, Arya grimaced.

Sansa gave a small smile, “Guess some things never change. You hated when mother took care of your scrapes and cuts.”

Sansa dipped the wash cloth in her bowl again and raised it to her shoulder this time which made Arya abruptly aware of how bare she was in her bed. She gripped the sheet around her as her sister cleaned the wound on her shoulder which had Arya relived to see no arrow protruding from.

“What-“Arya growled in frustration as her throat felt unbearably dry.

Sansa took the hint her sister was trying to give her and laid the wash cloth down on the bed. She went to Arya’s bedside and poured clear liquid into a cup and came over to her. Sansa gingerly grasped the back of her head and slowly poured the liquid down Arya’s throat. Arya gulped the water greedily and when she finished the whole entire cup, she sighed in relief.

“What happened?” Arya asked.

Sansa gave a knowing smile and nodded her head, “Daenerys lost her smaller dragon, her bigger one is terribly wounded. We lost most of our soldiers too. When the Night King was killed all the White Walkers just ceased to exist.”

Arya nodded and laid back on her pillow. She almost allowed herself to go back to sleep when a face appeared in her mind, “Where is Gendry?” Arya asked. “Has he been up to see me?”

Sansa didn’t answer her question and instead went back to cleaning the wound on her shoulder. Arya cleared her throat the best she could and asked her the same question but slightly clearer.

Sansa stopped rubbing the cloth but did not look at Arya. Arya sat up in her bed, gripping the sheets around her and knocked her sister’s hand away from her shoulder. The physical touch jolted Sansa and she shook her head, “He’s fine. He’s just resting.”

Arya studied her sister, “You’re lying.”

The accusatory words caused Sansa to finally meet Arya’s stare, “I am not, Arya.”

Arya’s eyes glowed, “If I get out of this bed… And he is not okay…”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “You are not getting out of this bed for a while.” Sansa glanced back at Arya and she shied away from the glare she was met with.

Arya’s eyes narrowed at her sister’s reaction, “Is he dead?”

Sansa shook her head, “We don’t… We haven’t found his body…”

Arya slowly shook her head, “That doesn’t mean he’s dead.”

Sansa nodded, “It doesn’t. Some soldiers say they saw him leave Winterfell shortly after the battle ended. Which I have no clue why he would leave in such a hurry.”

Arya was silent. She also didn’t have any explanation for Gendry leaving. She closed her eyes as she laid her head back down on her pillow, trying to clear her head to think of a reasonable explanation. Her thoughts were halted as she heard the door to her room open. She cracked her eyes to see it was Jon walking to her, putting a hand to her cheek and bending down to kiss her forehead.

“Sam told me he was surprised you lived. You had lost so much blood. Not to mention the fever from the infection should have killed you long before we got you up here.” Jon paused looking down at her. “I then told him that you were too stubborn to die.”

Arya cracked a small smile at his statement and so did Sansa. Jon then turned to Sansa and then turned back to her, “Gendry is missing but before you start tearing down villages or killing yourself trying to do so, I heard some other men talking… Gendry thinks you’re dead.”

Arya’s eyes widened but then she nodded slowly, “Well, I can see why.”

Jon nodded, “Before I made it back here with you, someone had told him you had been killed on the battlefield. He went on a tirade which would explain why the forge looks the way it does right now.”

Arya sighed in relief to know Gendry had at least made it through the war. But now he was out in the wilderness and by himself.

Arya reached up to grab Jon’s arm, “You have to go find him. Let him know I am very much alive.”

Jon put a hand over hers and reassured her with a sharp nod, “I’ll take a search party and we’ll find him.” Jon gave one last reassuring look and then walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Sansa put the washcloth in the bowl, discarding it onto Arya’s bedside table. She stood from her chair and went to leave Arya’s chambers when she turned around and said, “We will find him, Arya.”

“I know.” Arya smiled softly. Her sister returned the smile and then walked out of her room to leave Arya with her thoughts.

Even though her mind was racing about Gendry’s whereabouts, she knew the only thing that was going to help her body heal was rest. And rest is what she did.

Chapter Text

Most of Arya’s dreams were of blissful memories. One dream she loved to revisit time and time again was the most enchanting vision of the past she could ever wish for.

It always started with her sitting on the ground of a waterfront with her father and mother beside her. They all would be watching the fish swim down the ravine, admiring how the vivid colors of their scales reflected the light of the sun’s ray. Her father, the noble Eddard Stark, would look at her in wondrous amusement at the true warrior she had become. Her mother, diplomatic Catelyn Stark, also would look straight at her but with a strong sense of admiration for the young girl. Her brothers and sisters would be all together as well.

Sansa, Rob, Rickon, and Bran would all be gathered under the shrine, its long branches reaching out over the whole entire Stark family as if protecting them with its strong limbs.  Jon would come soon after and casually lay his side against the tree as she would smile brightly at him and he would return her same warmth.  

Gendry would materialize behind her soon after and sit with his arms around her waist, cradling her with his chin on her shoulder, whispering sentences of deep adoration into her ear. And sometimes she would be able to turn her face and dream of kissing him softly. The memory of his lips still firmly in her mind, locked away so no one could steal them away from her.

 Other times, though, the beautiful dream would turn into a horrendous collage of terrifying imagery. Like dark bloody claws clasping their harsh grasp on her mind. You can never have good without evil / A protagonist without an antagonist.

One in particular had Arya waking up and forcing herself in a seated position on her bed, chest heaving and a cold sweat running down her neck. She could barely remember it but the parts she did had her trembling. Gendry’s head on a spike in King’s Landing. His head was next to her Father’s and as her eyes made its way down it showed her Mother’s as well. Then as if her mind wasn’t torturing her enough other heads started sprouting from the ground of King’s Landing. Sansa’s appeared, and then Jon’s.  Cersei was beside her, making her look at the horrific scene.

‘There’s room for just one more.’ Her chilled voice had whispered to her.

Arya’s eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. Refused to give her nightmare that kind of satisfaction.

She took a deep breath and felt a newfound source of energy within herself. It had been three days through her healing process and Maester Samwell had helped her wounds heal considerably considering the short time span. She even noticed that her shoulder did not sear with pain when she pushed herself up from her bed. It still was painful to move but it was dulled enough to help her get out of bed.

The wound in her thigh had also healed well because when her feet hit the cold floor of her chambers, it did not burn with agitation. Arya gave a small smile as she found herself walking with ease to the mirror in her room. The smile faltered slightly when she looked at her bare body.

Her face wound was what stood out the most. Her stitches had been taken out but the outline of the scar was still red with a jagged appearance, starting from her forehead and stopped midway on her cheek. The scar went clean over her left eye, so she was thankful to the gods that she hadn’t lost it to the knife that had been wielded against her.

Her eyes travelled to the rest of her body and she cringed at the discoloration of it. Bruises covered her pale midsection almost hiding the scars from where the Waif had stabbed her mercilessly. Both the arrow and thigh wound were barely noticeable, but her eye traced the outline of each of the two scars.

After she was done noting the absolute trauma her body had gone through, she turned to her wardrobe and started dressing herself. As she laced her boots, she heard someone open her door. She always held her breath as if the doorway would show Gendry standing there. His playful smirk on his lips with his arms folded across his chest. Her eyes met those of Jon Snow’s, and she sighed in minor disappointment. She brought her attention back to her boots, ignoring Jon’s stare. He had always had a weird way of sensing when she was up to trouble. She hadn't appreciated it when she was younger, she didn't appreciate it now.

“What are you doing, Arya?” Jon asked in a hard tone.

Arya finished lacing her foot ware and stood, making her way to the table that had Needle and her dagger laying across it. She ignored his question and snugly fixed the weapons to her waist.

“Arya…”

Arya jerked her face towards him as her fingers finished securing her weapons, “I’m going to go find Gendry.”

She saw Jon’s face fall and she cut her eyes away from him. Jon had not sent a search party out to look for Gendry for a few days and nights now. Arya had understood that his problems had gotten more difficult with Jaime Lannister’s arrival at Winterfell. Jaime had brought grave news of his twin sister’s forthcoming attack on them. Jon may be preoccupied with defense strategies, but Arya had one task on her mind.

“We need you to stay in Winterfell. It’s not safe out there.” Jon paired his statements with a move to put his full body in front of her door.

Arya slowly walked to him, “I thought you of all people would understand why I need to leave. He’s out there somewhere and he needs to know.”

“Arya, we need you here. We have an army headed for us again and we need-“

Arya stopped and her eyes shined with anger, “I will help you fight this war after I bring Gendry back.”

She went to pass him, but Jon shifted his body more and put a hand on her shoulder, “If he was coming back, he would have already come.” Arya felt as if a piece of her sole had broken from within her. She didn’t have time to catch her breath before Jon was continuing, “You need to stay here, not chasing ghosts.”

Arya couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “How dare you.” Her eyes showing a seething glare towards him, “He worked day and night making weapons for you and your army. He served you and this whole fucking castle. And after a few days of searching, you’re just going to give up on him?”

Jon sighed, “I’m sorry. Those were not the correct words to use. I just meant that we have more pressing issues now. Another full army is marching towards us, Arya. I need to know you’re here and safe. I almost lost you out there on that battlefield, I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.”

Arya scoffed, “I don’t need protection. I never have and I never will. Not from you, not from Sansa. Not from anyone.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at her, “Like you saved yourself out on that oak tree? You’d be dead if I hadn’t gone out looking for you.”

That stopped Arya but the anger spurred her away from logic, “Yes, you did. And I am beyond thankful for that, I truly am. But this time, I’m not heavily wounded. I’ve felt better then I have in the few days I’ve been kept here. I’m ready to find him, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

She went to open the door, but Jon slightly pushed the hand against her shoulder and forcefully shut the door. He didn’t speak, just looked at her with pleading eyes. She ignored his silent request and felt the wildfire of anger burst with in her like crackling embers in a fireplace. She kept her glare trained on his soft eyes and spat, “If you weren’t my blood, I’d slit your throat where you stand.” Her words were harsh and low. The sentence she had spoken shocked even herself, but it did the trick of faltering Jon.  

She stepped past him, shoving his hand off her shoulder and went through the door. Suddenly three Winterfell guards blocked her path, trapping her in the doorway of her room. Her lip came up in a snarl and her anger kept her tears at bay. Jon’s voice sounded from behind her, “I don’t want to do this.” Arya looked at the guards, calculating how she was going to get past them. Jon continued while she was thinking her plan of action through, “But I need to do this.”

Arya withdrew Needle and that caused the other guards to withdraw their weapons. She felt Jon moving closer to her and she strategically turned around and placed the blade to his chest, stopping it before it could pierce his flesh.

Jon was clearly thrown off by his sister and Arya sighed in frustration, “You don’t understand-“

Jon cut her off, “No, I do.” The harshness in his voice echoed through her ears and before she could stop him he continued, “When I heard of Lord Stark’s death, I went to leave the Knight’s Watch. I didn’t care if they came looking to behead me, I just cared about getting to Rob so I could kill every, last one of those bloody Lannisters.” He paused as the fire in Arya’s eyes slightly softened. “My brothers came to stop me. They succeeded. Do you know why?”

Arya swallowed keeping the blade at Jon’s chest. Jon slowly put his hand lightly on the blade, “They loved me as their own and wanted me not to get myself killed.”

Arya shook her head and whispered, “Let me go, Jon. Please.” The tone in her voice was pleading and almost a whimper.

Jon’s eyes softened, “I can’t. I just got you back.”

“You’re being selfish.”

“Aye, maybe. But you don’t need to be risking your life out there for someone who will come back when he’s ready to come back.” Jon reasoned. “We need you here, Arya. All of us.”

As if her body was against her, Arya was surprised to hear the metal clang as Needle fell out of her hand and down to the ground. The emotion she had been holding internally had finally rose to the surface. Her body started to shake uncontrollably and suddenly she felt Jon’s arms go around her. Her legs suddenly gave out from her and Jon allowed her to fall to the ground softly. She was pulled to his chest and he slightly rocked her as the sobs overtook her body.

She drew in a breath and whimpered, “I’m sorry. I just…” She pulled in another breath. “I want him here.”

Jon shushed her and his hand stroked her hair, “I know, little wolf. If it were a different situation, I would go out there with you, I would. You know that, right?”

Arya nodded and she really did believe his words. She tightened her grip around him and let her sobs rack her body while Jon held her to him.

Chapter Text

“I take the twig of the elm tree

And autumn’s chestnut leaf

And write in words of mystery

As black as grief”

-Henry Treece

She could feel the darkness start to consume her again. No matter how hard she fought, it always found her again.

As Arya cried in Jon’s arms her brain replayed the scene that had just occurred. She hated herself for putting a blade to one of the most important people in her life. She hated who she had become.

“I… I’m sorry, Jon.” She said between gasps.

“Shh…” Jon shushed her as he combed his fingers through her hair. A hard sob racked her body and she shook her head, “No. I shouldn’t have… I would never…” Her cries would not allow her to complete a simple apology. She felt helpless and weak.

“Arya, I know. We all have our demons.” Jon whispered, trying to calm her.

She remembered when Gendry had said those exact words. She wondered how many people would have to say those words before it would make her feel better about the actions she had executed. Her chest hurt and her heart ached, as if her body was turning against her. The cold claws of the so called “demon” had its grip so tight around her that she couldn’t breathe.

Jon suddenly grabbed a hold of her shoulders, bringing her away from his chest. His eyes searched her face and sighed, “I shouldn’t have said what I did. You’re not the only one who crossed the line.”

She shook her head again, not letting him give her excuses, “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Arya cried out, sniffling and exhaling a breath at the end of her confession.

Jon cupped her face in his hands, bringing her attention back to him “You are Arya Stark, daughter of the noble Eddard and Catelyn Stark. You are a warrior and a loyal wolf of this castle.” Arya rolled her eyes and diverted her eyes away from his.

Jon continued, “You take care of the ones you love and kill for them.” Her eyes slowly came back to his as he spoke the words, “You love him. I know you do. And I am not allowing you to leave to go and save him.”

Arya let a rough sigh leave her lips, “I just want to know.” She didn’t have to explain herself to him. The way he looked at her told her he understood. He untangled himself from her and stood before her crumpled form on the floor. He offered a hand to her and she took it without a second thought. He brought her to her feet and his eyes scanned her face again.

He walked to where Needle was laying and crouched down to the ground, picking up the thin blade. He looked from the sword to Arya and gave one last sigh as he handed it to her. She gripped the handle and sheathed it, the sound of the weapon being returned to its holder signaling her surrender to Jon’s wishes. It pained her to give up on Gendry, but she knew where she was needed.

Her hands slowly went to the release on the straps to release her weapons from her waist, but Jon’s large hand enclosed over hers.

“Go.”

Arya stopped what she was doing and slowly brought her eyes to the man in front of her. There was a small smile on his lips as he squeezed her hand, “Go find him.”

“Jon, I-“

Jon swiftly cut her refusal off, “I need to put my own selfish reasons behind and let you do what you were born to do.” Arya was too shocked to speak but Jon continued for her, “I can’t continue to watch you sink deeper and deeper into this frame of mind and that’s exactly what you will do if I keep you here. I honestly didn’t know how much you truly cared for him.”

Arya let his words sink in and after what felt like an eternity had passed, she nodded while bringing her hand away from her belt. She found her voice and asked, “When are you leaving for Kings Landing? I don’t only want Cersei dead… I want to be the one to do it.”

Jon nodded, understanding her blood lust, “We aren’t moving our forces for a day and a night. We have men on the outskirts and no raven has been received about incoming forces. I can only guarantee that time for you. The search I led to find Gendry didn’t turn up much so I can’t point you any direction.”

Arya nodded, “He didn’t go far. He’s probably somewhere camped out close by. He may be missing for a few days now, but he wouldn’t abandon Winterfell all together.” Arya gave a small smile, “He knows I’d find some way to convince the Gods to let me come back and haunt him for the rest of his life.” Jon chuckled but stopped when he saw Arya’s stare gloss over with a fresh wave of sorrow and she croaked, “I just need to know he’s alive.”

Jon walked over to her, “Then what are you waiting for?” Arya’s eyes darted to the open doorway and then back to Jon. He nodded his head to her door, “Find him… Find him quickly.”

She returned Jon’s smile and nodded in appreciation. Her newly found purpose blossomed in her chest as she went to her bed and withdrew her pack from underneath her bed. She grabbed her heavy cloak from her wardrobe and threw it over her shoulders. Before she left her room, she embraced Jon in a hug which he returned with the same love and respect.

“Grab a horse from the stables and gather any supplies you think you’ll need.” He squeezed her tight before letting her go. “And, please, be careful.”

“Always am.” And with her remark she left, leaving Jon behind in her room.

She quickly walked to the stables, the wind still frigid against her face. The smell of manure hit her nose and she marched past the stable keeper. He had yelled after her something along the lines of what her business was and she just replied, “Ask the King.”

Arya grabbed the bridle hanging on a wall hook and grabbed a saddle from the rack beside it. She walked by each stall until she saw a familiar grey eating hay in one of the boxed shelters. She dropped her saddle to the ground and her fingers unlatched the gate to the horse’s stall causing the horse to turn its head to her. The dark eyes of the big dappled grey met her bright grey ones and she whispered, “Let’s go find him.” The horse snorted and she smiled, rubbing her hand down the length of the horse’s face.

She quickly brought her horse out and finished saddling. As she mounted and walked her horse towards the gates the same two guards that had met her when she had first arrived to Winterfell blocked her way out.

“Look, I’m leaving. You get your wish.” She smirked as she woah-ed her horse.

“Nice try. We know who you are, and we have orders not to let anyone in or out of Winterfell. Including the youngest Lady of Winterfell.”

Arya rolled her eyes but before she could kindly tell the guards to fuck off, Jon's voice echoed from behind her. 

“Let her pass!”

The gruff voice caused her to smile smugly at the guards whom were completely thrown off by the King’s order. They slowly moved aside and as she walked her horse by them, she heard one of them mention, “It is absolutely useless trying to keep orders straight for these Lords and Ladies.”

Chapter Text

War is never over
Though we win the victory
Still in our minds the battles 
No freedom is not free.

- Cecil L. Harrison

The morning sunrise brought a heavenly splash of yellows and oranges that cascaded down onto the strong silver neck of her beautiful horse. The trees and fields in front of her were flourishing like nothing Arya had ever seen before. It almost made her feel like she had ridden into an alternate universe. The natural Winterfell winds were still chilled but the area around her was full of life and prosperity. The vivid, joyful scenery in front of her made her forget for a moment what life could have been. As she stared at the road ahead of her, she almost forgot of what this world could have been if they had not defeated the Night King.

Further into her day of searching, she was so mesmerized by the stunning nature that she almost forgot to stop at a feed mill along her route.

People were always possible sources of information. Some ignored her questions, too busy with their daily lives to busy themselves with her claims. She would always just move onto the next but after the first handful of people claiming ignorance, it dwindled her faith slightly. No one had seen the broad shouldered, dark haired man with a large, elegant made hammer at his side. She came to find that she was saddened each time she mounted her horse with no more information than what she had started out with. The disappointment would make her chest ache more and more with unavoidable grief. But once she laid eyes on the trail in front of her, it was almost as if some unknown force was beckoning her to keep going. To not give up.

Therefore, she didn’t.

Sometimes she would see a shopkeeper or mill worker and stop them to ask if they had seen someone matching Gendry’s description. A tall man with a thick black beard and stained teeth at a lumber mill had mentioned seeing someone matching Gendry’s physical appearance with a huge, well-made hammer traveling south. Arya quickly thanked the enthusiastic man by giving him a few silver coins.

There was a long stretch of just empty trails and fields that seemed to go on forever with no end in sight but still held the same wonderful atmosphere. Even with the many stops, she was starting to become aware of how long it had been since she had been on horseback. Her body screamed for her to stop completely but she pushed on stubbornly. She needed to cover as much ground as she could. The further she went the better chances of her finding Gendry.

If there’s anything left of him to find.

She shoved the dark thought from her head immediately and glared at the road ahead of her. The paths were getting slightly darker as she traveled them. The sun was starting to set and the elegant ambiance started to turn dark and unknown. Soon, she would be travelling in the dark on lands far away from Winterfell, lands she did not know very well.

Her hope was dwindling every mile she crossed without coming to another stop. Without the bright, welcoming colors of the day to urge her on, the dark feelings of despair were looming around her heart. The bright spirit of hope she had found was starting to depart from her slowly. Then all the thoughts she had been pushing away, flooded her mind and capsized her mental defenses. The sudden rush of a dark realization she had been refusing to notice suddenly became apparent to her once blind eyes. Maybe Gendry had done what she never would have believed possible. Maybe he had abandoned Winterfell.  

She was so consumed with the dreadful thoughts in her head, she almost didn’t notice a figure step out onto the path she was on. That one figure turned into four. She could make out the dirty, stained faces of all four men- their clothes ripped and soiled. The first man had walked in front of her horse. He was broad shouldered and had tangled dark shoulder length hair. He was clean shaven but that was about the only thing clean about him. His beady eyes looked at her like she was a piece of meat for the taking. An involuntary shiver rand own Arya’s spine as his voice hit her ears, “Look at what we got here, lads!” Now she saw the other three men gather closely around her horse. Two looked like brothers, both thin and gangling with sandy colored hair that had leaves and twigs hanging out of the mop that covered their head. Both were also sneering at her and licking their lips.

She felt a hand clasped around her thigh and she unintentionally growled with a glare plastered on her face as his fingers dug into the material of her breaches. The fourth man had a full-grown beard and full head of greasy dark hair to compliment it. His eyes were dark pits of nothing, and his rotting teeth looked jagged like a direwolf’s. She could smell the alcohol and rotten meat smell that leaked out of his body. She kept herself form gagging, but the smell was almost too awful to bare.

The disgusting man spoke with a laugh on the tip of his slimy tongue, “Henry, I’d say looks like we got us a horse and a nice cunt to keep us warm tonight.”

Any normal high-born woman alone on horseback would be terrified, but she was no normal high-born.

She was staring daggers into his soulless pupils and she noticed he was looking at the scar over her eye. She tilted her chin up, her lips upturned into almost a snarl. She wore her battle wounds as a badge of honor, and she grasped on the hope that this man would get the idea and lead his band of low lives away from her.

It didn’t come as a surprise to her when they didn’t.

The man’s dirty face scrunched up at the scar on her face but soon after gave her an unnerving smile, “Good thing we ain’t picky.” Howls of laughter rang out from the men as Arya fingers traced the hilt of Needle at her side. Her two prized weapons were hidden underneath her cloak, out of sight and unnoticed by her attackers.

The man gave her thigh a harsh pull and he almost set her off balance but the strength in her leg allowed her to refuse the force. She immediately jerked her foot up out of the stirrup to meet the man’s chin. The satisfying crack she heard echoed through her ears. She was about to take advantage of the sudden shock between all four men, but something stopped her in her escape.

She could kick her horse and run right through these awful men. She could run right over the man who was closing in at the front of her horse. But she would just be allowing these despicable bandits to pick off another unfortunate soul, and she couldn’t allow that.

When she had landed from dismounting her horse, it took a few moments to find use in her legs, but her survival instincts quickly kicked in. She expertly dodged and maneuvered through each pair of hands that came for her body. The shock of her agility and courage threw the men off for a few precious moments and she swiftly stabbed one of the thin, sandy haired men between the legs. She slashed her target wide open, the bewilderment showing plainly on his ugly face. His pained moans were like a melody to her ears as his innards escaped his body.

The supposed brother to the man she had just butchered was slightly taller but still as thin and spindly as the other one. She heard the other two coming up from behind her but before the man’s friends could do anything, she was already gutting him with her fine blade. She heard the running footsteps of his friends and she expertly swung the dead weight of the man around in front of her, pushing him into them.

The dead weight of the skinny man successfully plowed into one of the men, knocking him to the ground. One man, however, had not been taken down by the body she had used as a figurative weapon. It was the beady-eyed man and his eyes looked like those of a snake, ready to devour her. His overall mass made him look intimidating, but he was very predictable. He lunged at her, giving away where exactly he was going to be as she brought her sword down onto the back of his neck. Her blade was to fine to cut all the way through his thick neck, but it slid across the back of it and tore through flesh all the same. A howl of pain erupted from him as he was grasping where she had assaulted him. The overall disbelief of the man gave her enough time to quickly slash him across the throat. Now his hands clutched at the open wound where his blood was flowing through like a rushing river. He held his hands there as if he could keep his skin together just by gripping his neck. He crumbled to the ground with a hard grunt, giving up the fight for his life soon after.

She stood there, panting with rage and hatred for the type of scum these men were. The last man struggled to get up from where he had fallen, stumbling right as he was about to get off his knees. Something elicited a scream of anguish from his lips, and she figured something clearly wrong with the joint of his ankle. He was just about try to stand again when Arya slowly put the end of her sword’s blade to the man’s throat. That suddenly stilled him and he shook with complete fear like the coward he was. Arya could swear he was pissing himself, and it made a malicious giggle escape her lips.

She had saved him for last. The man who had criticized her scar with his eyes and the evil smile he had put on his lips. The man who had gripped her thigh so harshly she probably would have dark, indigo reminders of it in the morning. This man who thought, so ignorantly, that he and his mates would take turns raping her on this uneventful night.

It wasn’t long until he was begging her for his life, almost whining as he pleaded and cried. Arya lowered Needle slowly and smirked at the man’s sigh of relief. His body giving a hard shudder with the ignorance of thinking he had had his life spared.

Her blade slashed quickly across his abdomen causing him to fall over his knees, his face hitting the soft ground as a muffled groan left his lips. She went behind him as she sheathed Needle and brought out her dagger in its place. She grabbed the long slick hair of her assailant’s head and brought him back to his knees, his dirt-covered neck open and bared to her. Ignoring the pained screams, her mouth was inches from his ear as she whispered coolly, “Listen carefully because you’re going to remember this name as the God of the Death takes your worthless soul.” She put her dagger to his throat and started adding pressure, “This nice cunt’s name is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and you…” She slowly brought the knife across his throat, relishing in the pained gasps the man let spew from his dirty lips, “You… are nothing.”

She let the man’s body fall and watched him gurgle from the blood spraying through the open gash in his neck and stomach, the blood pooling in monstrous amounts underneath him. She mounted her horse who had walked a little ways away from the fight but stood loyally for her return. She looked out over the massacre she had created and a small smile of triumph played on her lips. Where once this open trail had just held brightness and innocence, it now also held stains of crimson justice.

Chapter Text

she asked

‘you are in love

what does love look like’

to which I replied

‘like everything I’ve ever lost

come back to me.’

- Nayyirah Waheed

Further along Arya's journey, the night had grown darker and she could barely see the path she was traveling on. Not to mention she found herself going insane with the contradicting thoughts that crossed her mind in a crossfire of hope and anger. It made her mind grow tired and weary. One part was telling her that he had to be close, but the other part was telling her he was long gone. A deserter. A traitor. She wouldn’t dare give him the excuse of heart ache. People died in this world and that was no reason to abandon the people that needed you most.

But then she asked herself if she would do the same. The emotionless Arya who had first arrived at Winterfell’s entrance would have immediately said she wouldn’t have left Winterfell. But with all recent events of loyalty and love entering her heart again, she hesitated to answer the question within herself. Would she have needed to leave Winterfell if someone had told her Gendry’s dead lifeless corpse was left on the battle field? Surely not.

Then the darkest thought of her mind whispered, ‘Maybe you’ll find out where your loyalties lie when you find him dead in the forest somewhere.’

The thought made her shiver but before the tears could form in her eyes, she finally could make out a bright lantern hanging on what hopefully was the door of an inn. She kicked the sides of her horse to usher it on and soon they were in a full gallop to the light symbolizing yet another beacon of hope.

It was a small establishment that more than likely was full for the night, but she admitted her horse at least needed a rest. With night approaching, it wasn’t safe for even Arya to make the journey back to Winterfell. The four bandits she had slain were the least of worries at night fall.

She tied her horse giving one final pat to the horse’s neck as the creature lowered its head to take a much-needed drink from the trough. As she made her way up to the entrance, she noticed the grotesque stares of some of the drunkards outside. From the corner of her eye she saw one of them making a move towards her and instead of speeding up to get in the inn’s doors, she turned to look at him with one hand resting on Needle. She couldn’t help noticing the man look over the scar on her face. She gripped Needle and he finally seemed to notice the sword at her side.

He sneered at her, “Don’t need no damaged goods, anyways.” 

She smiled grimly at him, taking no heed to his insult, and then made her way inside. She finally found a seat away from most of the commotion of the room and sunk into it. As a tavern girl stopped by her table asking her what she would like. The smiling girl nodded as Arya ordered bread and some of the inn’s finest ale. After the girl left her, Arya’s body melted into her seat and a sigh escaped her chapped lips.  Her muscles were screaming at her and she closed her eyes, begging the restlessness to go away.

The ale and bread were served to her and she took a dry gulp from her cup. The smooth liquid poured down her throat and she licked her lips in appreciation. She started studying the occupants in the bar, some were looking over to her curiously. She would lock eyes with some of them, conveying to them that she was no one to mess with.

A sultry voice behind her caught her attention. Some woman was clearly trying to impress and bed a man sitting at a nearby table. His back was to Arya, but his reply was what kept her attention.

“Sorry miss, not interested.” His voice was gruff and hard. She was surprised that a man in this kind of setting was refusing the services that a woman like her had to offer. Arya was perplexed but shook her head as her attention fell on some of the other guests. Soon, unsurprisingly, a brawl had broken out between two men who were fighting over a platter of young, red head cunt for the night. Both were thrown out and Arya couldn’t help the smirk that fell on her lips. She hadn’t been privileged to this much entertainment in a while.

She snuck a glance back at the strange man and he was still sitting there in silence. She watched as his hands went to remove the hood of his cloak and her breath caught in her chest as he twisted his body around to grab the attention of a tavern woman. Her heart practically exploded in her chest as her eyes searched the man's face. It was him. The lighting may have been dimmed in the place, but she knew she had found him.

Gendry.

He had turned back around in his seat after finishing with his order, clearly not noticing her. She finished her ale, the warm feeling sliding down to her belly as she sauntered over to his chair. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing softly. She wasn’t surprised by the annoyance in his gruff voice as he spat, “I’m sure there are other men who would enjoy your company but-“

She cut him off, “Stupid, I don’t want any other man.”

Gendry’s whole body froze, his head not daring to turn towards her. She smiled as she brought the hand that was on his shoulder to his chin. Her fingertips gripping his chin as she pulled it to the side, forcing him to look at her. She was surprised to see tears start to moisten his eyes. Then suddenly he swiped her hand away from him and grumbled, “Great, I’m going mad.” His words were filled with despair and her heart ached for him. She tentatively brought her hand to his cheek and she felt him tilt his face into her warm palm. “You’re not really here.”

Arya came to the side of his chair and crouched so that he had to look at her again, hand still plastered to his cheek, “Gendry, I’m not dead. Whatever you heard after the war, it wasn’t true.”

His eyes searched her face, like he was trying to solve a complex puzzle. A smile twitched upon his lips and then his hands came up to cup her face. She closed her eyes and brought her hand from his face to cover his own hand. She opened her bright grey eyes to look deep into his soft blue ones -eyes she had not seen for what seemed like an eternity.

His smile brightened and his face showed complete relief. He slowly leaned forward and his lips finally met hers. She reacted to the touch immediately and brought her arms around his neck. His hands came to her waist and brought her to his lap, her legs hanging over the side of his legs. The kiss became more heated and she moaned in his mouth with overwhelming need. When they departed for a few breaths of air, their foreheads came to rest against the other’s.

“I thought I’d never find you.” Arya whispered to him.

His eyes met hers in a sensual, longing gaze and she could tell he wanted to say something, but he just tenderly brushed his lips against hers again. His arms returning to their place around her waist and bringing her closer to him than she already was. “The old and the new Gods clearly wanted you too.” Gendry whispered before Arya captured his lips with her own again.

When their lips parted again, Arya took a moment to look around the brothel. They might as well have been tearing off each other’s clothes because no one was taking notice in the two lovers. She turned her gaze back to his and smiled, taking notice in the way his arms kept their strong grip around her waist. The ale surely was taking its toll on her, the courage swelling in her belly and chest.

She leaned forward, her lips right at his ear, “I’m supposed to bring you back to Winterfell.” She gently kissed right below his earlobe, biting at the skin a little as she continued, “But the road back home is way too dangerous, even for me.”

She heard the faint rumble of a chuckle from Gendry and she leaned back away from him, “What’s so funny?”

Gendry shrugged, his eyes bright with lust, “I just thought I’d never hear you say something was too dangerous for you to accomplish.”

Arya smirked but looked away form his heated eyes, “Well, I never thought you’d abandon Winterfell but here we are.”

Her eyes came back to his and she could tell she’d hit a nerve with that statement. He looked down to the floor and then back to her. He looked like he was about to speak but closed his mouth right before words escaped him.

In response to his silence, she slowly got off his lap. She looked at him and was concerned with the hurt in his light-colored eyes. One of her hands grasped one of his and she intertwined their fingers as he started whispering his apologies, “I needed time. You were dead.” Arya was about to speak but he continued, “I was going to go back. You must believe me. I would never completely abandon your House.”

Her grip on his hand got firmer and she said, “You talk too much. If you truly were going to come back to Winterfell and serve under Jon, then I cannot blame you for needing this time to yourself. No matter what war my house was to face next.” She paused before saying, “Gendry, there is nothing to forgive.” And to back up her statement, she pulled his hand, ushering him to get up from his chair which he did. “Now, where has this grieving smith been staying these past few days?” Gendry caught the playful twinkle in her eye and smiled as he made his way in front of her.

Chapter Text

Arya was completely naked and bare for him to see.

She hadn’t hesitated in the slightest when they had entered the small room he had quickly paid for as Arya was tugging him incessantly to the creaky staircase. It wasn’t until she was completely undressed that she caught her reflection in a mirror off in the corner. The dark marks that still shadowed her body told a gruesome story that she wasn’t sure she was ready for Gendry to be aware of.

But when she shyly looked at him, her ridiculous fears were erased from her thoughts. She had slowly turned to reveal herself to Gendry and expected shock and disbelief. But the softness and sparkle in his vibrant blue eyes made her heart jump with uncontrollable lust and delight. The relaxed yet calculating expression on his beautiful face had her almost on her knees. She never would have imagined a man having this much control over her body, nonetheless with something as simple as a look.

Oh, how much she had changed.

He looked at her like she was some sort of unattainable Goddess. Like at any moment he would get down on his knees and worship the ground she stood on. Soon, she noticed his eyes start to waver from the silent lusting. She noticed the way his eyes passed over her battle wounds. How his eyes lingered on the still dark bruising on her chest and the marks of shoulder and thigh wounds.

Again, the hateful voice in the back of her mind tried to regain control of her confidence. It whispered harshly to her that he would look upon her newly attained bruising and scars in disgust. That he would realize the ugly scar on her face was not a trick of the light and it was going to be there for a long while. Maybe even forever.  

But never once did his eyes grow cold. Not once did his lips upturn in disgust. They just continued to study until his eyes met hers with complete admiration and some other distant emotion she could not yet place.

She let a breath escape her and suddenly it was her time to study the smith sitting on the of the edge of the inn’s bed. He was also bare and naked for her to see. He was also leaning back with his hands planted firmly behind him. His body also showed some dark bruises, indigo and yellow outlines surrounding the points of contact.

After her eyes had finished studying his battle wounds, their eyes met one more. Where she felt hatred for what they had been put through, his eyes shown with wonder and bewilderment.

Gendry opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. When he finally spoke, his words came in a raspy tone, “Arya Stark, how are you here?” A few more glances over her body she noticed an emotion she was familiar with. Rage burned in his eyes, but it was only for a moment when something else crept onto his expression. Along with a small knowing smile. “I’m sorry. I remember. You Starks are a hard bunch to kill.”

Arya cocked her head to the side, faking her impatience, “Sometimes.” She was surprised by her reply and sighed, “Do you really want to talk about the war of the Wights?” Her eyes flashed to his, a smirk playing on her lips as she cocked her right hip. “Because we also have another war waiting for us and we need to ride North to…” Her words trailed off with another deep sigh.

She slowly walked to him, dragging each step as if she was in a dance with time itself. She stopped when her knees almost touched his, “Because I’ve been waiting. Waiting and wanting longer then needed.”

“Arya, if I had known-“

Arya silenced him by climbing onto his lap, a slender finger coming to rest on his partially opened lips. “Shhh.” She stifled a moan at the feel of him against her and she rocked her hips against his. She bit her lip and tipped her head down to touch his before her lips capturing his in a deep kiss. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders rippling under her fingertips. Like vibrations of anticipation for what was to come.

Gendry’s rough, calloused hands rested on her waist. He slowly stroked down to her hips and gripped her, “I am in awe of you.” He said these words between deep mouthed kisses, her tongue slipping deep into his mouth. Their lips departed which turned into slight pants from both parties.

Arya let out a small laugh, “And to think.” Her breath hitched as he moved her hips closer to him, bringing her wanting and begging cunt closer to enveloping his ready cock. Her eyes closed slightly, “I used to be such a pain in your ass.”

His mouth came to her neck, sucking and teething at the flesh, “Still are, sometimes.”

With that she adjusted her hips one last time and slid onto his cock, her nails digging in to his broad shoulders. She felt his lips drop to the nape of her neck, his mouth giving a soft nip to it as she moved her hips against him to get a comfortable rhythm of friction going.

He brought his face away from her neck and combed one of his hands through her soft hair. “Arya...” His eyes searched her face and as he gave a thrust in perfect timing to her hips, her mouth slightly parted in a vivid show of pleasure. A small chuckle escaped his lips has he plunged his mouth onto hers, causing Arya to react immediately to his taste.

The kiss was desperate and sloppy but neither seemed to care. The only thing that came between the heated kiss was the soft breaths between them both.

Arya’s body felt like it was on fire. Inside and out. Each time she slid down onto him, it felt like sparks of embers filled her abdomen. Her impatience for her impending release had her whimpering into his mouth, pleading for the ecstasy she craved.

Gendry scooted them further on the bed, suddenly wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and twisting so her back hit the soft featherbed underneath. Gendry rested his elbows on the bed above her shoulders and cradling her head, grunting as his hips snapped forward into her irresistible heat. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she yelled in pleasure as his thrusts got deeper and deeper.

Arya’s legs came around his waist and he gritted his teeth as she brought him impossibly deeper inside her. Even when he took control, she would always remind him that she was in charge. He was almost twice her size, but she held the true power. And she was sure he was completely fine with that.

His face came to rest in her neck, whispering her name over and over again. She felt her walls quiver around him and he must have felt it too because his thrusts became erratic and less controlled.

A strangled moan signaled her release that came sudden but felt as if it was drawn out for minutes. “Gendry.” She whispered his name between harsh breaths. He was still inside her, his thrusts slowed but she can tell he was holding back. His breaths were still uneven, and his focus wavered as her hand found his face, “Seven Hells, Gendry. Please.”

He smiled through gritted teeth at her words and with a few swift movements of her own hips, she had him coming undone inside her.

*****

“I wish I had stayed.”

Arya was just finished fixing her weapons to her waist and she shook her head at Gendry’s words, “Can you shut up about it?”

“Arya, I’ve disgraced your family. I failed Jon. I-“ A hard stare from Arya had his last few words dying on his tongue.

“You were a broken man. No one is blaming you for leaving.” Arya could tell by the way Gendry looked away from her, avoiding her stare, that her words were not changing his mind.

She walked over and sat on the side of the bed, grabbing his hand in hers, “You told me you were going to go back.” His eyes met hers and he gave her a nod. She nodded back with a smile, “Aye, ya left your post when you were needed. But Jon knows... That’s why he let me come after you.” She squeezed his hand, “And that’s why I’m bringing you back.”

His eyes held her stare, “Arya...” She sighed, readying herself for more of his apologies but his pause brought her attention back to him. When he didn’t speak she did, “Gendry, what am I going to have to say to-“

“I love you.” Her heart fluttered in her chest. “And I know you’re no Lady, but one day I hope to have your hand and maybe make an exception... An exception to be M’lady.”

Arya should have scoffed. A long time ago the thought would have had her groaning and moaning in distaste. She would have got up from where she was sitting and walked away from him like she had when they had been with the Brotherhood. How the fullness in her heart at his words should have made her gag and curse her ridiculously feminine response.

But it just made sense. It made sense to her.

“Gendry... I... I love you, too.” Because what else could this feeling be? The way heart was racing and pounding against her chest. The warmth she felt flood through her body like drinking a full cup of ale. She had never been in love before but she was sure this was what it felt like, and she was choosing not to fight it like she would have done.

After what seemed like minutes of him processing, his expression immediately brightened and he sat up to cradle her face in his hands. His eyes searched deep into hers, as if he was expecting her to take back what she said. A bold stare shone back in response to his searching one. “I accept your proposal, Gendry of House Baratheon.”

He gave a small smile to her choice of title, “Not. M’ still a bastard.”

She immediately threw her body into his, knocking him backwards and flat against the bed. Arya had straddled his waist and put her hands into his, holding both above his head. She leaned down close to his bewildered face, “Maybe. But after Jon leads us to victory in King’s Landing, Baratheon or not, you will take my hand in marriage.” He shook his head and chuckled at her words, but she quickly added, “That, of course, does not mean I am a lady. Or that I am inclined to do whatever you want me too.”

Gendry nodded, “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of making Arya of House Stark do anything she didn’t want to.”

She leaned in close to his face, bright smile showing that she liked the sound of his promise. She slowly brought her lips to his, sighing into the kiss. Her hips gently rocked against his and her teeth caught his bottom lip between them as she gave a playful tug.

Before things could go further, she sat up and patted his shoulder to Gendry’s dismay, “We need to get going.” She got up from the bed and couldn’t hide the snide smirk on her face as she walked to the fire to extinguish the flames.