Arya debates sneaking into his chambers and surprising him there. But she decides against it - doesn't want to kill him before she can talk to him. So, instead she follows proper channels. Meaning, she rides through the gates of Storm's End and up to the door.
She's still small and quiet and no one sees her as she enters. The sound of the sea acts as white noise, filling the silence. Arya peers around the hall - she's never been to Storm's End before. It's not the prettiest castle, but it does what it needs to do, she supposes.
"Lady Arya," Ser Davos' voice rings off of the walls and Arya turns, startled.
She really must have been occupied with her thoughts, to not hear the old knight enter the room. Maybe she was making the right choice.
"Just Arya, please," she says, smiling a little.
"Just Arya, then," Davos laughs, a smile crinkling the skin around his eyes. "What brings you to Storm's End?"
Arya bites her lip.
"Me," Gendry says, striding into the hall with all the confidence of a highborn Lord. "She's here for me, Davos."
His tone is a little hurt, but his face is soft and there's a hint of a smile hiding under the scruff of beard that grows on his chin and cheeks. Arya's heart is in her throat and tears well in her eyes.
Davos looks between Arya and Gendry - sees something on their faces, understands the tension in the air - and nods to himself. "Right," he mumbles, "not something I want to be part of."
He shakes his head and leaves the hall, muttering to himself about stubbornness and history repeating. Gendry pretends he can't hear the old man - he absolutely does not want this to be a repetition of history. That's not to say that he wouldn't go to war for Arya Stark. But history has not been kind to the lovelorn Baratheon men, and he would much rather live his life with her.
"Didn't think I'd see you again," Gendry says plainly, fingers itching to reach out and touch her, make sure she's really here.
Arya sighs. "Didn't expect to make it out of King's Landing alive," she admits. She wants to tell him everything that happened in the capital, wants to explain the horror she saw and the revelation she had - maybe one day. He deserves to hear her story, she thinks. Deserves to know exactly how damaged and broken she was.
Despite the hope in Gendry's eyes, there's still a shade of wariness, of fear, of sadness there as well. "Please," he says tiredly, "tell me you're not here to reject me again."
"No," Arya replies quietly. She steps forward, bridging the gap between them. "No, I'm not here to do that."
Hope sparks in his eyes, in the way his mouth twists as if he's fighting a smile. "Then what, Arya?" he asks, his voice nearly breaking when he says her name.
Gods, she loves the way her name sounds on his lips.
She gives him a small, enigmatic smile and instead of answering, she untucks her tunic from her breeches and gently pulls the fabric up, bunching it under her breasts and exposing her stomach and the soft swell between her hips that hadn't been there four months ago.
Gendry's mouth drops open and he gapes at her. His eyes flicker between her stomach and her face - shock and panic and excitement so evident in those blue eyes that Arya loves so much. His hands raise as if to touch her stomach and then hover in the air between them.
"I...you're...are you?" he's unable to form words, entirely shocked.
The seed is strong, indeed, he snorts to himself.
Arya's not sure if the nerves fluttering in her stomach are from Gendry's proximity and stunned silence or from the growing babe's quickening. Either way, her heart is in her throat, blocking her voice.
She nods at him firmly and that seems to break the spell.
"Seven hells, Arya," he mumbles sweetly, his hands finally coming to rest on either side of her stomach. They're large enough to nearly cover the swell of their child. The toughness of his fingertips against her skin sends shivers down Arya's spine. He's looking at her with such an indescribable look that Arya can't seem to meet his eyes.
She rests one of her hands over his and inhaled deeply before looking up at him and saying, "Ask me again."
"Ask...what?" Gendry's fumbles for a moment, still distracted by her skin under his hands. A moment later, her request sinks in and his grin is blinding in its happiness. He keeps one hand on Arya's stomach, fingers curled protectively over the life growing inside of her, and moves the other to cup her cheek. "I fucked this up the first time," he says slowly, "and I regret that. All I've ever wanted was a family, Arya. Not a proper Lady or anything like that. I just want you. Will you - both of you - do me the honor of being my family?"
There are tears rolling down her cheeks - tears that she doesn't make a move to wipe away - and Arya nods. "I chose you, Gendry, a long time ago," she says. "Just took us a long time to get it right."
Letting out a laugh of disbelief, Gendry ducks his head and kisses Arya soundly. She melts into the kiss, her free hand coming up to tangle in his hair. When they break apart, Gendry rests his forehead against hers. He's almost afraid to move, lest he break the spell and she disappears again.
"I'm not going to knit by the fire," Arya says, teasing, but firm.
Gendry snorts, "Don't expect you to."
"I won't wear dresses," she says, laughing into his mouth as he kisses her again.
"Breeches are more comfortable," he replies reasonably.
"But," she murmurs, squeezing his fingers resting against her stomach, "if he's not a thick-headed, stubborn bull like his father, I could be convinced to have more babes."
In all likelihood, Arya thinks, she won't need much convincing to bear more Baratheon babes. She loved growing up with her siblings and the thought of letting her own child grow up alone was a sad one.
"He?" Gendry's voice cracks with excitement. "The maester told you it's a boy?"
"No," Arya laughs, "it's just a feeling."
"Oh," Gendry replies. "I'd be happy with a girl. A little wolf pup like her mother."
Arya rolls her eyes at him, but she's smiling. Gendry's hand hasn't left her stomach the entire time they've been talking, but he pulls it away now and Arya finds that she misses the warmth of it. He pulls her close, hands on her lower back, and buries his face in the join between her neck and shoulder. Arya's arms come up around his back and hold onto him. For all his massive bulk, Gendry seems small now - just that young boy that only wanted a family.
Arya presses a kiss to his neck, tasting soot and smoke on his skin. She smiles - for as much as he as a title now, he can't seem to stay away from the forge.
Her silly, stubborn bull.
Gendry hugs her tighter and murmurs an "I love you" against her neck. Where once that would have scared her into a run, now she leans into his love, feeling their babe fluttering about in her womb.
Tears - Gods, she's cried more in the past four months than in the past four years - drip down her cheeks and onto Gendry's tunic. She swipes them away and holds him tighter.
She never wants to let him go again.
A/N: I know this has been done like a million times since 8x04, but I couldn't get it out of my head! I figure we can't get enough of the fluff in this fandom, so enjoy! Please let me know what you think :)