Note: AU where Gendry is the second son of Robert and Cersei. He was fostered in Winterfell. Jon Arryn died much older and so Ned was named hand later. Joffrey is older than Gendry - let's say they switched ages ok? but this story is set when they're all past their fifteen. The rest you will have to read xD
Chapter I
King's Landing would never be home. She missed so much of her own home: the Godswood, the Glass Gardens, the Wolfswood and the music and foods from the North. Here, in the capital, the Godswood was merely a bunch of trees, it was too hot and the ways of the court were not meant for her wolfblood. She was perched on her windowsill, looking down to the gardens of Maegor's Holdfast. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel herself getting lost inside Nymeria's skin. The wolf was locked in her chambers in the Tower of the Hand and even though she would have prefered to walk around with her companion, Arya knew it was an impossibility.
The only reason Nymeria was allowed to come with her was Gendry's insistence. Arya turned around to face his sleeping form and smiled to herself, thinking about their previous activities.
She remembered when he had come back with Robb, Jon and Bran, holding the direwolfs and grinning at her when he handed the pup, knowing fully well how happy it would make her. He had fought with his own mother so Lady and Nymeria could stay in the Red Keep and for that, she would be eternally grateful.
She has to admit that King's Landing wouldn't even be bearable if it weren't for his presence. She had dreaded her departure from Winterfell. Originally only Bran, Gendry and Sansa would go south with their father, but after her brother's fall she had taken his place. Apparently the King found her an interesting sight. The uneasiness in her father and Gendry confirmed what she already feared, that the King had less than honorable intentions towards her. His eyes always followed her, blue filled with longing and lust. They were so similar to that of his son that sometimes she couldn't help but to stare right back at him.
"You know, if we are to make the best of our time together, then you should come back here." Came his deep voice from the bed. She turned to him and pretended to prefer staying where she was.
"Maybe I got bored with you and I want to go back to my chambers." She replied to him unaffected. He sat on the bed and her own eyes betrayed her as they followed the lines of the muscles in his torso and the marks that scarred his skin.
"Then I will have to keep you locked in here, my lady." He smirked, perhaps because he noticed her wandering eyes or because he knew she despised the title. She marched towards him with determination.
"My father wouldn't like that," she started as she straddled him and she caught his black locks in her fist, tilting his head toward hers, "and don't call me that."
He captured her lips in a heated kiss, full of love and passion. They both knew they didn't have any time for him to take her again, but they could enjoy some kisses before...
"My Lord!" came a voice outside the door and a knock followed. Gendry reluctantly pulled away and she went on to hide while he barely opened the door looking expectantly at the squire. "His Grace the King is calling for you, he is at his chambers and has asked for your presence as soon as possible."
Gendry let out a sigh and sent the squire back confirming his presence. As he stepped inside again and put on a doublet on top of his shirt he sent Arya an apologetic look. She simply shrugged and went on to check that the squire didn't linger outside so she could make her escape. She went to him for a quick goodbye kiss but he prolonged it, never sure of when they would get the chance to kiss and hold each other again.
"Will I see you at supper?" he asked as he reluctantly let go.
"Depends, if your father wishes to eat in the great hall with everyone or we all eat with our courts." She answered with some disdain, finding the whole thing an annoying business.
With a last look, she departed.
Making way to his father's bedchamber, Gendry pondered what could the King want. He hardly ever cared to communicate with his children, and when he did it was not a pleasant affair. Nowadays the topic was Joffrey's wedding to Margaery Tyrell in a few days and Robert would not shut up about how smarter the Tyrell girl was when compared to the crown prince and how he hoped she would rule in place of Joffrey.
Gendry never received much of Roberts unpleasant words. They were not close, not in the least, but at least Robert treated him - and Myrcella and Tommen - a bit less roughly than he did Joffrey. In fact, after the second Ironborn Rebellion, his father almost treated him with a kind of respect.
He had been a boy of six-and-ten when the Iron Islands had declared themselves independent and at the time he was being fostered by Ned Stark in Winterfell. Joffrey had gone from the capital to Casterly Rock to defend the Westerlands and he hardly saw battle. But Gendry was in the North and he rode next to the Starks and their bannerman to defend the main land and eventually laid siege over Pyke. When he went back to Winterfell and met his family again in naming of Ned Stark as new hand, he had a fair set of scars from his time in the war.
He stills remembers how Arya had smiled when he, Robb and Jon had come back and the sweet kisses she granted him that night as welcoming. The day they had departed to war there was a feast in Winterfell, and she had spent the entire night by his side, reminding him of what they had learnt in their time sparring and training and complaining about her dress. He still remembers how desperate he had felt at the idea of never spending time with her again, never letting her know how much she meant to night, when men went to their whores and kitchen maids, he escorted her to her chambers and had kissed her with promises and had not meant to go any further. But Arya loved to do what she supposedly couldn't, and he had never been able to say no to her demands. To finally have her had been a blessing in the eve of a dreadful time.
The next morning, he had gone to war and she had remained in safely in Winterfell. At least, until she went to visit the Mormont girls and had stayed to defend Bear Island when a surprised attack from the Ironmen had caught the women on their own. But they were northern women, and they fought until Robb had taken a part of the Stark bannerman to help them end the siege.
"Uncle", he greeted ser Jamie, "he sent for me?"
"Yes, it seems he finally remembered there was more than one son. Pity, Joffrey's wedding clearly had left you to do as you wanted." There was no malice in his words, clearly he understood that sometimes it was better to not have Robert pay you attention at all.
"Well, eventually we all must face out parents." He simply answered.
"Don't you remind me nephew," he said darkly as he let him pass, "don't remind me."
The King's chambers was filled with sunlight and his father sat on his chair overlooking papers that he knew the Hand would most likely end up reading. When he looked up, the redness in his eyes confirmed what he suspected, that Robert was drunk as always.
"Gendry, c'mere boy, c'mere!" He motioned for him to sit in front of him and he silently did," How you doing boy?"
He simply lifted an eyebrow at the nickname and shortly answered "Fine, excellent. What am I doing here? Are we planning something special for Joff? Are we going to war with someone?"
His father booming mirthless laugh filled the room "Well boy, what's with that attitude? Did I took you away from the legs of a whore? Some pretty wench that you took to your bed?"
His hands curled in tights fists. The only woman to have ever been to his bed was also the one girl his father now wanted to bed himself. "No father, but I was just busy. Now what is it?"
Robert let go of the subject and seriousness took over his face. "Your brother is finally marrying the Tyrell girl. Now, the war delayed this marriage and the betrothals of many little lords and little ladies, including yours and Cella's."
At this, Gendry could only swallow his bitterness. For a long time now he had feared a marriage. He knew his father had to make the right alliances and it was Gendry's duty to secure one with a successful marriage. For a while, when his father had come to Winterfell after the war to ask for Ned to step up as Hand, he had hoped to ask Robert to allow him to marry Arya. But as soon as his mother had him on some alone time she made clear to him that a bride would be chosen to him and Arianne Martell was almost a certain thing. And when they came to King's Landing his father infatuation to Arya lead to the King promising Ned Stark that he would set up a secure match for her personally. Obviously to some man who would not leave the capital and keep her close to him.
"Have you made a decision then?"
"Yes, " Obviously Robert appreciated the fact that his son did not attempt a speech against betrothals. "I almost had you married to Arianne Martell, but it was set that Myrcella would marry Trystane. And you," a proud smile formed on his lips and Gendry already dreaded the answer, " will marry Sansa Stark."
"Absolutely no!" He jumped forward and set his two hands in the table. "I will nor marry Sansa Stark!"
His father's temper already matched his and he stood up as well with a bit more difficulty. "Now listen boy! You will marry who I say and there will be no more disscussion!"
His fathers outburst always left Joffrey silent, but Gendry was always more stubborn and temperamental. Ned Stark had taught him to be patient and calm, but man cannot always control their nature.
"Yes there will be! I wont' marry Sansa, I won't and you cannot force me!"
"Now listen. I know you and your siblings are an ungrateful lot but I will not accept your disobedience! This match will finally join houses Stark and Baratheon as it always should have been!"
"I do not love Sansa Stark."
"Love? Ha! Love, what of it? It wasn't love that joined me and your mother and look: Four children and seven kingdoms held together!"
Gendry remembered every single quarrel between his parents, how he disrespected her and how she spoke of him. He knew, he could see how bitter they both were and he thought of what future he and Sansa could make. He was fond of her, grew up to her side to care for her as a sister but they had little in common and he could never offer her what she wanted. Sansa dreamt of being a princess, of a lord who would be by her side to adore her and give her gifts.
And him? He wanted not a lady, but a girl with unruly hair who went to ride and hunt with him. They could never make each other happy and they would end up bitter like his parents.
"Father I..." He dropped the volume of his voice, perhaps hoping his father would be kinder if he attempted to be more respectful. "Please let me choose who I marry to."
"Your mother," his father begun with an exasperated tone, "wanted to give you Arianne Martell. But I wouldn't allow it," suddenly his expression changed and he gave him a small almost fond smile, "you're the only true stag in our lot. And it is time a Baratheon marries a Stark lady, like it always should have been..."
While his father went on to relive the past in his mind, all Gendry could think was that he did wanted a Stark lady, just not this lady.
"Father..."
"We will speak no more of it. You will marry Sansa Stark and that will be the end. Both me and Ned had agreed that the two of you are well past the age to be at least betrothed and we both think this is a proper thing, so don't you think that by talking to Ned Stark you will achieve anything."
It amazed Gendry that his father knew him well enough to prevent what he would do. It also left him hopeless.
That night, as they all feasted in the Great Hall his father announced the betrothal. He saw in Sansa's expression that she already knew. And he saw in Arya's hurtful eyes the surprise and deception. Sansa exchanged a look and a sad smile with him and he knew. He knew she felt the same way he did, she did not love him no matter how close they were. He supposed that she was in some ways relieved, she could get worse. So did he but he still did not find it in himself to even smile politely.
He found her in the Godswood in the middle of the night, softly stroking Nymeria and listening to the sound of the leaves. She did not turn, but he knew she felt his presence.
"Sansa doesn't us, she doesn't know a thing." She began with a low voice.
"Arya"
"So, I would really appreciate it if you don't tell her, ever. And do name one of your children after me." she tried to show indifference but she was failing miserably.
"Arya, listen to me, we can find a way out of this." He sat next to her and took her cold hand. It surprised him, she was always so warm whenever he touched her. Always full of fire and energy. Her stormy eyes found his and he was not surprised to receive a challenging glare from her.
"Oh really? And what do you suppose we do? Run away to the Free Cities? Bring dishonor to our families?" There was irritation in her raised voice.
"I would marry you first." He offered.
"A secret marriage? I am a Stark, I have a duty to my family and I can't throw that away. And neither will you, so don't even start." She finished with defiance, daring him to keep fighting with her. It was always very easy to pick up arguments with her.
Instead he kissed her. And she kissed him back with fervor and desire. It seemed his body lost coordination, as his hands softly caressed her hair, the back of her neck and her sides as his mouth moved almost violently along with hers. Nymeria howled and they breathlessly separated. The wolf was smart when they were clearly losing their wits. The Godswood was not a proper place for them to be together, anyone could easily find them and remain hidden as they looked on. Nymeria lost herself in the trees making her way back, clearly signaling Arya that she should follow.
"After Joffrey's wedding, I will go back to Winterfell-" he opened his mouth to protest but she simply put her hand on his lips. " Listen to me, I will not stay here just to see you been forced to court her and kiss her and clap on your wedding and cheer on your bedding ceremony. It is not only for our happiness, I won't bear to look her misery. This is not the match she wanted and I don't want to see her sour face when she gets all that I want with you."
She had never told him those were her intentions. Growing up, she always spoke of how she would never marry and she would remain riding and hunting in the North. He dreamed of having adventures with Jon and Robb all through the seven kingdoms. But here they were now; Robb was married, Jon at the Wall, he would marry Sansa and Arya...
He took the hand that covered his mouth and gave it a uncharacteristic soft kiss. Her eyes were glistening but he knew very well she wouldn't let herself shed tears. Not even when her mother was particularly harsh or when she had a nasty fall had he ever seen her cry, and he knew she wouldn't weep over something they both had long predicted would eventually come.
"I love you." It was not the first time he said it. In fact, he sadly remembered how happy they both were when he said those words to her. Happy and foolish, it seemed.
"And I love you, stupid." She gave him a quick kiss in the cheek near his lips, as she always did when they were trying to be flirtatious but subtle. That's how they always were with their affections: subtle, secretive and rushed.
"Maybe if you spoke to Sansa..." He began.
"I love her and she loves me, but she's was one of the few girls in court who didn't have a proper betrothal and I know she cares about that. You and her... You could both do worse."
It was true. Myrcella was going to the ends of Dorne to the court in Sunspear to be married to a lad she had never even seen in her life. He knew himself lucky, but that did not meant he couldn't get angry at her lack of fighting.
"And you? Who will they give you to?" The thought of her with any man made his blood boil and he knew it went beyond jealousy. It was also because he knew she would be miserable with anyone else.
"It matter not, I will run North, all the way to the Wall and beyond and Jon will help me..."She said it with a smile, but he knew perfectly well that when it came to it, she would just have to accept whatever fate came to her.
They kissed one last time, a much slower but more final kiss. Nymeria howled sadly in the distance, but this time they ignored her as their heart and bodies claimed each other one more time. Their touch tainted with the fear of losing each other.