denbeyondthewall

Arya’s skin was tanned from the Braavosi sun, she had been studying mathematics at the University of Braavos. Growing up, she had always dreamed of going to the University of Winterfell, like her father and her elder brothers, Robb and Jon. However, her fencing coach Jorah Moormont convinced her to apply and to see what could happen, there was no harm in applying. He had even trained there himself, but decided not to go pro after a shoulder injury. But then she got a full-ride scholarship and it was impossible for her to say no. She’d be in the warm, Braavosi sun all day, learn a new language, get to explore Essos, and not give up fencing, something her mother always pursed her lips at.  She couldn’t stop beaming about it for weeks, her excitement was plastered on her face. That was until she told Gendry of her plans.

“You’re really going?” he croaked, unable to look at her, his hands played with his hair, nervously twisting each short strand.

“I’ll call and text you all the time, it’s not like Braavos doesn’t have service,” she reasoned, laying her head on Gendry’s chest. Things had gotten much more familiar for them lately, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Gendry was her best friend and she could definitely see herself with him, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it once or twice. But he was Gendry, the boy she met when she was eleven years old and he had moved to Winterfell from King’s Landing after his mom died, and he came over to her house with Jon and Robb. They immediately became friends, because with Jon and Robb, Arya always followed. He was her best friend, she didn’t want to ruin it, and for what, a hunch that he may like her that way. It was more likely that he pitied her and simply saw her as a little sister.

“It won’t be the same, Arya.” He stroked her hair, and placed a small kiss on the top of her head, “But I’m happy, you’ll be happy.”

She pulled her hair behind her  shoulder, gathering it all to one side, letting the long, dark brown curls fall. It had grown much longer since she left Winterfell in June, then it had only just grazed her shoulders, now it cascaded down her back.  It was unmanageable most of the times, frizzing out whenever she dared to take a brush to it, so she usually pulled it up into a messy bun. It had distinct highlights from the Braavosi sun, particularly around her face, adding dimension and shine.

“Arya,” Ned called, bringing her attention back to their family breakfast. She was still a bit jet lagged, so she ate her pancakes at a monotonous pace. She took a bite of her scrambled eggs, and pursed her lips slightly as they were lacking salt.

 “What did you say?”  she looked at him as she put in their piece of food in her mouth.

“How was your flight, not too much turbulence right?”  he asked, taking a sip of coffee from his world’s best dad mug, a gift from Sansa for Father’s Day a few years back.

“None at all.”

“Good, I know how much you hate it,” he smiled at her.

“How’s Braavos been?” Her mother inquired, her waist-length red hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, and her usually made up face was clean of makeup.

“It’s been good,” she answered abruptly.

“Your classes are okay? Didn’t you say your economics professor was a bit difficult?”

“She was challenging.”

“You nicknamed her ‘the waif,” Rickon interjected, his red curls were still unruly as ever, it surprised Arya that her mother hadn’t made him get a haircut.

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m sure you did well, darling,” Cat added, “That was your last final before you flew home right?”

“Mhmm,” Arya agreed, “I think I’ll get my results by the end of the week.”

“Hopefully you didn’t do too well,” Bran jokes, “That way you’ll be forced to come home.”

“And trade the Braavosi sun for the blistering winter winds?” She laughed, “Wouldn’t ever dream of it.”

“Now, now,” Ned commanded the room with his strong voice, “We’re glad you’re here in for a little bit, especially for the holiday party.”

Oh the dreaded holiday party, the annual Stark tradtiion that usually left Arya groaning and searching for the nearest spiked eggnog curtesy of Theon.

“Oh yes,” Catelyn grinned, “If your final was one day later you would’ve missed it.”

“Damn,” Arya muttered under her breath.

“This year, even the Tyrell’s are attending,” Sansa exclaimed.

“Well, that may be because you’re dating their son,” Robb chimed in.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are you four?” Bran asked.

“No, they’re five,” Arya laughed.

Her younger brother gave her a knowing look, while the rest of the family finished their breakfast, ignoring Sansa and Robb’s spat.  She knew they all missed her and she felt the same about them too. But, here in Winterfell she was always a Stark first. People saw her as the governor’s daughter, then as Jon and Robb’s little sister, even as the less refined and less beautiful sister to Sansa. In Braavos, no one knew her as anything other than Arya. Wicked at math, fencing, and who could definitely hold her own in a drinking competition against the boys, but that talent she wouldn’t share with her more than conservative parents. They still thought arranged marriages weren’t the worst idea, seeing as they’d been in one, and noble blood in Westeros still had to remain pure, particularly for the Starks .

In Braavos she dated a bit, but nothing was ever serious. She was too focused on her studies, but that didn’t mean she and her friends didn’t go out together and find their way back to their dorms the next morning.

“Arya,” Sansa knocked on her door, “Are you getting ready for the Christmas party?”

The Starks were throwing their annual Christmas Party, which felt more like a ball to Arya. The highest members of society were invited and everyone dressed in black tie attire. It was professionally catered, decorated to the nines, and to anyone who came to see it, it felt like you were walking into a winter wonderland filled with champagne, mistletoes, and cheesy Christmas music. Arya was never one for parties or dresses or presenting herself to society, so to say she wasn’t too keen for the party would be an understatement.  

Sansa knocked again before Arya groaned and reluctantly got up to answer her sister’s obnoxious pleas.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Arya,” her elder sister exclaimed, “You’re not even showered!” The redhead had her hair French braided and tied into a fancy up-do on top of her head while she was wearing an emerald green, floor-length strapless gown with a bit of ruching detailing along the bust. Her makeup was delicate, with a soft peach lip and blush to match accompanied with a simple winged eye-liner and cut-crease eyeshadow. Arya could hear the tapping of her four-inch heels, making Sansa even taller than most models through her door.

“I’m showered,” she argued.

“Sure,” her elder sister rolled her eyes, “Hop to it,” she pushed her younger sister into her bathroom, “I’m not leaving until you’re ready, we have less than an hour.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“Might as well be,” Sansa quipped, “Mother’s getting the last details arranged and she’s already greeting guests, who actually shows up early to an event like this.”

“The Lannisters,” Arya jokes.

“How’d you know it was them?”

“Just a stab in the dark,” she called as she stepped into the scorching hot shower. Its water felt like heaven against her back and on her scars. Fencing in Braavos was much more of a contact sport than it was in Winterfell and she had multiple cuts, scrapes, and bruises all over her arms, back, and legs from her intensive training at the House of Black and White, the local fencing gym. It was world-renowned and had produced fencing legends like Syrio Forel and Jaqen H'ghar. Both of whom had trained her and were her mentors, they truly believed she could become a professional, only if she quit school and dedicated her entire life to fencing.

She clicked off the water and before she could even wrap a towel around her body her elder sister was calling from her bedroom, “Mother picked your dress out for you, I laid it out on your bed. Osha should be in, in a few minutes to do your hair and makeup.”

Arya opened the bathroom door and saw the midnight blue, strapless gown her mother had selected. It wasn’t the worst in the world, and if she had to pick a dress, this one would probably be at the top of the list.

“Arya,” Sansa urged, “I know this isn’t your thing, and that you hate these high society events, but please,” she begged, “Can we have fun. I even had mother invite Gendry for you.”

Arya blushed immediately.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Sansa gave her a knowing smirk, “I’ve got to do the finishing touches on my hair.”

Arya stepped into the dress and zipped it up, but was struggling a bit, “Here let me get that for you Miss Arya,” Osha, her mother’s makeup artist of over twenty years offerred.

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s just Arya,” she laughed.

“Come here.” Osha engulfed her in a huge bear hug, “It’s been forever, little Arya. It only seems like yesterday I was getting you ready for your first Winter Ball.”

Arya gave a small smile.

“Oh come on dear, it’s not nearly as bad as you think, plus you look marvelous. Finally let your hair grow past your shoulders, I think I can actually braid it this year.”

“It’ll take a miracle to make it look as refined as Sansa’s.”

“Well good thing I’m a miracle worker.” She took the two-inch barrel curling iron to Arya’s long chestnut colored locks and made thick, bouncy curls that flowed down her back. She tied the front section in a half-up half down style braid, leaving the rest of the curls loose. Finishing off the style with a simple blue-rose pin, placed directly in the center of her hair. Arya looked at herself in the mirror and gasped.

“A blue winter rose,” Osha smiled.

“A blue winter rose, indeed,” Jon agreed.

“Jon!” Arya burst out of the chair, barely missing the hot curling iron as she clobered him with a giant bear hug.

“Hello to you too,” he said.

“I didn’t think you were coming, Robb said you couldn’t get leave.”

“Told you she’d buy it,” Robb appeared in the doorway with Theon.

“You clean up pretty well, little wolf,” Theon acknowledged.

“Thanks, Theon.”

“He’s right,” her elder brothers agreed, “Four-months in Braavos and you’ve come back a whole new person.”

“Oh shut-up,” she smacked Robb’s shoulder.

“You ready?” Jon extended his arm to her.

“As I’ll ever be.”

The party was in full swing, the Tyrells, Targaryens, and Baratheons were in attendance. Robb was dancing with his girlfriend Jeyne, while Jon was desperately flirting with Daenerys Targaryen, and Theon was trying to tell a crude joke to every single server at the party.

“Guys,” Sansa gathered her elder brothers and Theon, “Is Gendry here yet.”

“He texted that he’s on his way, work went a bit late,” Jon answered.

“Good, there’s a mistletoe right at the entrance, we have to get him and Arya there.”

“What, why?” Robb asked shocked.

Sansa smacked him, “Why do I keep getting smacked,” he whined.

“Because you’re stupid,” Sansa answered.

“Yeah, even I know Red’s plan.”

“Well, would someone please catch me up.”

“We need to get Arya and Gendry under the mistletoe.”

“So they can what?”

“Robb Stark, I cannot believe you’re the heir to the Winterfell fortune,” Theon groaned.

“We’re all equal heirs, it isn’t medieval times.”

“Besides the point,” Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Genry like Arya and Arya likes Gendry, there, now I’ve said it so can we please get a move on,” Jon said.

“She what? He does? How? No. You’re kidding.”

Gendry had been shown into the party by the Stark’s main steward, Jory Cassel and he felt so out of place. He had his best suit on and a gift for the hosts tucked under his arm. He hoped he wouldn’t have to see his father, they had never been on the best of terms, but he didn’t doubt he was here.

“Okay,” he said to himself, “Just find Jon and Robb and you’ll be fine.”

“Still talking to yourself,” a familiar voice called behind him.

He turned around to see Arya wearing a dress, a sight he’d never thought he’d see, even at all the previous Christmas parties she managed to wear black jeans and claim it was black tie. Her hair was curled perfectly and she had a small amount of makeup on, making her look ethereal.

“Hi,” he croaked out.

“Hi,” she responded, shyly looking at the floor.

“How’s Braavos been?”

“Good. Warm.”

“That’s good.”

“And the shop?”

“The same, pretty busy.”

“I missed you,” they both said at the same time.”

“Ditto,” she laughed.

“You look really good.”

“Thanks, so do you.”

“You know,” he teased, “I think we’re under a mistletoe.”

“I’d say we are.”

He leaned in for a kiss and she reached up as well.

“See,” Sansa said, “We didn’t even need to trick them.”

“What?” Arya broke her kiss, “Why I oughta.”

To say Arya was confused was an understatement. Gendry had texted her last night and told her she needed to come to his apartment tonight by six o’clock. So here she was sitting in her car outside Gendry, Jon, and Robb’s apartment five blocks from the Stormland’s campus. Where she would hopefully be attending next year. Her brothers and Gendry were all juniors this year. Although both her brothers were planning on going to graduate school in the next few years.

She had yet to go inside because their car was not parked outside. She wondered what the hell was going on. After another five minutes another car pulled into the parking lot and their unmistakable forms emerged, and they looked to be carrying boxes. Decently sized boxes at that. Wasting no time Arya turned off her engine and climbed out of her small car, closing the door behind her with a small thud. The walk to their second story apartment wasn’t a long one, but it was quite a cold night and she had all she could not to run up the stairs. She had better balance than most men, but she was convinced that even she would fall on the ice. When she reached the door she knocked on it loudly. Jon opened it almost immediately. He must’ve still been standing in the entryway. He picked her up in a tight hug and carried her inside. He set her down on the tile floor and waited for her to remove her boots before he walked into the kitchen. Arya followed shortly after hanging her coat up and placing her gloves and hat on the radiator. She was wearing her favorite Night’s Watch t-shirt that Jon had gotten her when he went to their concert a few years back, somehow she hadn’t managed to rip it yet.

Their kitchen wasn’t very large but it had an island the looked into the living room, Arya thought it was an attempt to make the small space seem bigger. On the  island were the two large boxes she saw them with earlier as well as a few bags of pretzels and various candies. Arya’s eye lit up immediately, she saw Jon and Robb smirk. Gendry on the other hand stood there confused, typical bull.

“Can someone explain to me why Arya and you two turned into a pack of hungry wolves?” Gendry asked, his hands still resting on top of one of the gingerbread houses he pulled from a paper bag. His eyes locked on Arya’s and it felt like they were piercing into her soul. They were those breathtaking blue eyes that haunted her dreams at night. Those blue eyes that belonged to a man she could never call her’s. She had put her pride aside before and asked him to her homecoming dance, but he had rejected her. Although he did it the nicest way he knew how, Arya understood his message loud and clear. She was and forever will be Arya horseface. She should have known Gendry wouldn’t like her. With the number of girls that were always fawning over him why would he choose her? Why would he when there were people like Sansa? Your typical beautiful girl who swoons over you and won’t challenge your masculinity. Arya hadn’t tried to seek out a romantic partner since the incident with Gendry and most boys weren’t interested in her. Many men had told her that she acted to much like a boy to ever have anyone want her that way. She was done with society’s sexist rules and how women were treated as dainty and unworthy. She didn’t need a man to make her happy, but she wondered how having one would make her feel… Would she feel different if she had someone in her life that treated her differently?

“Arya?” She heard as she snapped out of her daze, “You okay over there?”

She nodded her head and walked over to the counter where the items laid out. “Well, I know exactly what's happening here.” Gendry still looked confused, of course. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re having a gingerbread house competition!”

“Why’d we only get two gingerbread houses then?” Gendry questioned.

“Our family only plays in teams. So we’re having a face off. So, I want J-”

“Robb and I have already decided that we’re going to be a team.” Jon interrupted his sister. She looked furious, but then an evil glint shown in her eyes.

“You’re going to regret that.” Arya pointed a finger at her favorite sibling. She turned to Gendry and poked a finger into his chest, ignoring the excitement she felt when it hit nothing but muscle. “I hope you’re ready.”

They stood there staring at into each other’s eyes for a moment ignoring the knowing stares from both of Arya’s brothers. After who knows how long of grey staring down blue, Robb coughed and broke them out of their daze. Neither had known that Gendry had grabbed Arya’s hand that moved from poking his chest to gently resting there.

“We’re going to crush you.” Arya said annoyed. Gendry’s hand had moved to rest on her lower back in a comforting manner, unbeknownst to Robb and Jon. Arya forced the red off of her cheeks, ducking her head so no one could see her blushing.

“Well, let’s get to it then!” Robb said clapping his hands together. Jon laughed and grabbed one of the boxes. He brought it to the other end of the counter and unfolded the cardboard box so there was a large base to build their house on. Arya immediately did the same. She motioned for Gendry to grab a bag of pretzels and a few bags of various candies. She began by massaging the bag of frosting, ignoring the way Gendry’s eyes followed her hands as they softened the bag of buttercream. It took him a moment before he grabbed a few pieces on gingerbread and helped Arya to begin stacking them accordingly. She was planning on building a castle, not Winterfell, the castle her family held back in the days of the first men, but a typical one you would see in the storybooks. Her and Gendry peaked across the counter and saw that Jon and Robb were building what looked to be a log cabin. She smiled and continued to work on their modest castle. Gendry was working on building a forest made from ice cream cones on the other side of their piece of cardboard. Arya had to admit that she was impressed at his work for someone who had never built a gingerbread house before.

“What do you two think?” Jon asked, “Let’s say thirty minutes left?” Everyone agreed that that should be more than enough time to finish their masterpieces. Arya and Gendry were putting the last touches on their roof while Robb and Jon added ice cycles to their cabin.

“Time!” Robb called out much louder than he needed to. Arya jumped and was caught by a pair of strong arms. Gendry was holding her to his chest. She could feel every inch of his body where they were connected. One hand was resting on the skin exposed at her hip where her shirt had rode up. His hand felt like it was on fire, not that he would ever say that out loud for her to hear. He had turned her down once, much to his dismay, but he knew that if he had said yes that both Robb and Jon would gut him like a fish. Arya was their baby sister and no man would ever be good enough for her, no matter if it were himself or the crowned prince. So all those feelings he had for her for the past few years he pushed aside. His relationship with Arya had been strained since he turned down her proposal of going to her homecoming dance. He wished with all his being that he had said yes when he saw her that night before she left. She had been wearing a tight and too short black dress and her hair was down in loose waves around her face. Gendry had never seen anything so beautiful and he wanted to tell her so, but it took her months to even talk to him again and seven hells if he was going to lose her again.

Gendry leaned in close and whispered in Arya’s ear, his mouth accidentally touching the soft skin of her earlobe. “For what it’s worth, I think we won.”

Arya shivered as a chill made its way from her neck to her toes. She relaxed and felt her body rest even more on Gendry, allowing him to hold almost all of her body weight. She rested her hand on his that was still pressed into her hip before she allowed herself to stand freely on her own two feet. Robb and Jon were still focused on their own gingerbread house to notice the exchange between their youngest sister and their friend.

“I’ll admit it, you did a good job.” Arya said moving to stand between her brothers. Jon wrapped his arm around her shoulder as Robb slapped Gendry on the back.

“Aye, it turned out really well, but I think you and Gendry might have outdone us this time. We’ll get you next year though.” Arya chuckled at that, Robb nodded in agreement. “Now if you excuse us, Robb and I have dates tonight.”

“I guess that means I should get going then.” Arya started to move to gather her things.

“Wait, why?” Robb asked confused. “We thought you’d stay here with Gendry.”

“Uh, why would you think that?” Gendry questioned, Robb’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

“For starters, everyone knows you fancy each other. We figured that you’d have both gotten together by now, but seven hells, you two are moving agonizingly slow and everyone thinks that you need a push. So, here it is, a push.” Robb stated, Jon stood next to him now nodding his head in agreement.

“Are you two out of your minds?” Arya bellowed, her head going into her hands embarrassed. She felt two hands on her wrists, but she moved to pull away. Their grip remained unmoving, not allowing her to get away. She heard some shuffling and then a door shutting loudly

“Arya, open your eyes and look at me please.” Gendry pleaded. Arya lifted her face and looked him in the eyes. “I know I messed up once, but I swear it’s only because I thought myself unworthy. Well, that and I thought your brothers would kill me and wide my body in a ditch somewhere in the Stormlands. But I’m here now and everyone has made it clear that I can finally act on my feelings for you. Arya, please, tell me now if you still feel the way you did when you asked me to your homecoming dance. If you no longer feel that way towards me I understand, but I need to tell you how I truly feel.”

The younger girl looked up at him and when he moved to speak again, Arya leapt up and threw her arms around his neck. His head was buried in her neck, Arya’s hand grabbing at the hair at the nape of his neck. Gendry pulled back and looked into Arya’s eye for a moment before leaning in tentatively. When his lips met hers it felt like pure bliss. They moved slowly at first, exploring each other’s mouths with pure curiosity that spanned over years and years. Their innocent kiss deepened quickly. Their tongues fighting each other with passion. Gendry lifted Arya up and moved to set her on the counter, accidentally sending Jon and Robb’s gingerbread castle to the tiled floor below.

“Shit!” He yelled and pulled away from Arya. She laughed at how his hair stuck up in different directions. He turned and looked at her like she were mad.

There were only a few days remaining before the winter holidays and Arya was getting antsy. This would be the first holiday her remaining family spent together. Jon promised that even he would make the trip north. The last raven said he would be here on the morrow.

Sansa was excited as well, but she was the one in charge of ruling and running Winterfell, so she did not have enough time to get truly excited. Bran never got excited about much anymore. Arya missed her younger brother’s old behavior that was filled with unending joy and curiosity. Arya only had one person she could still connect with, Gendry. Ever since they were reunited before the war their connection had intensified more than when they were younger. At first Arya was angry at Gendry for leaving her when they were kids, but she knew better than blame him for his previous actions. It was a different time, and they were different people. Hells, she was only a shell of the girl she used to be. Living in Bravos and training under the faceless men had made her lose part of herself. Thankfully, being around her family and friends and made it possible for her to regain some of what she had lost, but her childhood innocence would forever be lost in the free cities.

Arya was trekking across Winterfell’s courtyard and into the small building that was the castle’s forge. The snow was beginning to fall harshly and gather in large two foot piles around the yard. The groundskeepers was busying themselves with shoveling it into piles on the sides of stone buildings. Most likely praying that the hot springs that flowed through each building’s stone walls would melt the piles of snow. If it piled any higher Arya would be buried up to the waist.

She approached the forge and listened to the repetitive pounding and clashing of metal on metal. The sounds and the scent mixed in the air and all Arya could think of was Gendry. He had been so happy when Arya showed him the smithy. All the work he had done for the great war had been at Dragon Stone and Castle Black, they had only stopped in Winterfell for a mere few days before continuing even farther north.

The look that crossed his face when they saw each other for the first time in years is one that Arya will never forget. There was a mixture of sadness and amazement in Gendry’s eyes. It was a very similar look to the one he wore when he lost his bull helm many years ago. Arya always wondered if he would remake one for himself someday; she hoped he would, but maybe she just wanted to relive her happy memories.

Arya never bothered to knock when she entered the forge. She was used to seeing the men’s bare torsos. They never heard her knock anyway, however, they no longer were shocked at her sudden appearance. She ignored the looks they gave her. She could hear many of them mutter that the forge was no place for a lady, but little did they know she was no lady at all. The only one in the smithy that truly understood her was Gendry. He made her life much more adventurous and joyful since his return. As much as she loved her sister and her brothers, they had all grown so much and into very different people than when they were younger. The only one that was around her for most of her adolescent life was Gendry and his understanding of her upbringing made it easier to tell him stories than the rest of her remaining family.  

Arya had to admit that the way she looked at her friend changed over the years. She was with him while she was transitioning into womanhood. She remembered the very moment she realized that how she viewed most men changed. That day at Harrenhall when Gendry was practicing swordplay shirtless was some sort of sexual awakening for her younger self. Thinking back on the memory, Arya started to realize just how sinful the situation had been. Her brother was at war, her sister held captive in King’s Landing, and Arya was ogling her best friend’s chizeled figure. She knew she should feel bad, but she didn’t. Even now she couldn’t stop herself from appreciating how handsome he was. He had only gotten more muscular and handsome in their time apart. War had hardened him more as well and left him scarred, but Arya didn’t mind. Scars littered her body as well. She had a very large and wide scar that the waif had given her in Bravos a few years ago. As well as many other small gashes from small battles and fights over the years. One thing Gendry’s body held that Arya’s didn’t was burns. He told her a story of him getting burnt by the scalding hot flames in Tobho Mott’s forge while they traveled together before they parted ways.

Arya sauntered to the back of the forge where Gendry’s own hearth stood apart from the rest. It was separated by a thick stone wall and a massive wooden door. Arya used to struggle to open it when she was younger because of how heavy the wood was. It was a blessing that she could open it on her own now.

Gendry always worked later than the other blacksmiths. It was nearing dark and it was almost time for supper; many of the other men had already retired for the evening. She always chuckled to herself when she walked into his room and saw him still slaving away over the hearth, his sweat dripping from his brow onto the hot coals. She would watch it drip as she sat on his bed in the far corner. Arya laid there for minutes before her friend set down his hammer and turned toward her. He removed his sweat-soaked apron and hung it in the corner by the small window. Arya watched the muscles in his back move as he stretched his arms above his head, looking to relieve some tension he held in his shoulders.

“You’re here late today.” Gendry said as he sat down next to her on the featherbed. He picked her feet up and rested them back down on the tops of his thighs. “Did Sansa keep you longer today?”

Arya nodded her head and groaned. “She kept going on about expenses and making sure we managed the crops well so we can last through the rest of this long winter. It doesn’t matter much anyway, I knew you would work up until supper. That’s why I stole some food from the kitchens.”

Arya grabbed the bag she was carrying earlier and set it on the bed next to her. Gendry reached in and pulled out some bread, jerky, and a flask of winter wine. “This is all you brought? I can eat this all myself.”

“If you want something else you can go sneak it from the kitchens yourself. Hot Pie doesn’t appreciate when you steal the food he makes.” Arya retorted. Her wrists knew just how he felt when he caught her sneaking some food. She was surprised her wrists weren’t broken from her friend smacking them with his wooden spoon.

“Fine. I will!” Gendry got up and disappeared, Arya wondered what was making him act so stubborn and short lately. She wished she could corner him and ask him about his attitude. Suddenly it was as if the Gods heard her prayers because Gendry yelled from the front of the forge. “Uh, Arya! The door won’t budge…”

“Stupid Bull, what do you mean it won’t-” Arya stopped her verbal attack when she looked out Gendry’s small window. The snow was piled up to the base of the glass. The snowfall must have picked up since she came inside. It was coming down hard when she walked across the courtyard, but now it was blizarding so badly that you couldn’t see more than a foot in front of yourself.

Gendry stalked back into his quarters, shut the door, and flopped on to his bed. Arya wondered to herself why he shut the heavy door, but when the heat started to get trapped inside the small room she understood. If he hadn’t of shut the door there was a chance that they would lose all the heat, she just hoped they could keep the hearth going all night. If they couldn’t there was a chance they could freeze to death in their sleep.

Arya went and sat next to him, picking his head up to rest it on her thigh. Gendry sighed and looked up at her. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve been acting so strange lately?”

Gendry seemed to tense immediately, but Arya ignored it and grabbed a piece of jerky. As she ate she could practically feel the gears grinding in Gendry’s head as he struggled with whatever was on his mind.

“If you don’t want to talk at least eat something.” she shoved a slice of jerky into his hand and took a sip from the wine flask.

They ate in silence until the outside light drained from the room and the only source of light they had left was the dim fire growing from the hearth. Gendry sat up and went to the small closet in the corner of the room and grabbed a heavy fur throw. Arya kicked off her shoes and crawled under the covers after removing her fur cloak. She set it on top of the thin woolen blanket before Gendry covered the feather bed in the thick fur of his throw. Arya pulled the covers aside and shifted so Gendry had enough room to crawl under the covers. Gendry stood and looked at her like she was crazed.

“Oh curse the Gods.” Arya said as she sat up. “Gendry will you get into bed you’ll freeze to death. I don’t know why you haven’t been acting yourself around me lately, but you need to get over your inner conflict. You’re making me think I’ve done something to spite you.”

Arya looked at her hands in disappointment. Gendry ushered himself forward quickly. “It’s nothing you’ve done Arya.”

“Well then spit it out already!” The younger girl snapped at him. Hells that was part of the problem wasn’t it. Gendry knew she hadn’t been a child for quite some time now. She was a woman grown and had been for years. Maybe him knowing was what made him feel so guilty. He shouldn’t be looking at her like a woman grown, he should be looking at her like a princess, someone he should never be speaking to. Maybe that was why the whole situation was so messed up. He was flabbergasted when Jon approached him the other day and asked to speak to him. Ever since they defeated the Night King the pair had become good friends and held a mutual respect for one another, but he never thought Jon saw him as anything more than Robert’s bastard. When Jon legitimized him the other day he had felt uncomfortable beyond belief, but his inner turmoil hadn’t started until Jon asked if Gendry would consider marrying his sister. At first he thought he was talking about Sansa and Gendry had laughed, but Jon had made it very clear quick enough that he meant Arya. Jon told him that he knew they had been friends growing up and knew they had reconnected once they were reunited. He didn’t want to force his sisters to marry, but they needed to rebuild the realm. Jon told him that he knew Gendry wouldn’t force Arya to change who she was and that he respected her just as much as a true northman. Gendry had been speechless. Jon dismissed hima and told him to think about it; he did make it clear however, that it would be in Gendry’s best interest to marry soon. He was now the Lord of Storm’s End and would need to take a wife. It was the final thing Jon mentioned that had struck Gendry so deep though. It had been Robert’s dying wish to unite their houses, and Gendry was the last chance to honor his wish. He knew his father and Eddard Stark had been the closest of friends and he knew what it would mean to unite their houses, but he didn’t want to force Arya to do anything that wasn’t her.

“Gods Gendry! Will you get under the covers you’re freezing!” Arya demanded and he did as she asked. He was staring at the ceiling when he finally told her the truth.

“Jon legitimized me the other day.”

“Gendry that’s wonderf-”

“And he asked if I would marry you. He knows you don’t want to marry, but he says we need to rebuild the kingdom. He figures that it would be mutually beneficial because I won’t force you to change or be someone you aren’t meant to be and I will have to take a wife soon. But Arya, I would never force you to do something you wouldn’t want to do. It isn’t right of me, but I don’t want to marry someone I’ve never met either.”

“Oh,” Arya looked at him and stared. He could see the turmoil boiling in her eyes. “I-I…”

“Arya, Jon didn’t give me a say in getting legitimized. He thought it was in my best interest, but I never wanted this. The only time I ever wished I could get legitimized was when -”  Gendry stopped and turned away from her, her gaze feeling too heated.

“When was it Gendry?” Her voice was so soft now, it made him want to reach out to touch her. To run his hand over her soft skin.

“It was when I first realized I loved you, but I could never be with you since I was a bastard. It was when I realized I could never truly have what I wanted most.”

“I told you before I could be your family, and now I will be.” Gendry looked at her with wide eyes. “Gendry, I’ve known the minute I saw how many people were slain on the battlefield that I would be forced to marry. I couldn’t think of anyone better for me to marry than my best friend. I’m positive that I’ve loved you for quite some time as well. I found myself thinking of you quite often over the years.”