Sansa woke in a cold sweat, her breath coming in gasps and tears stinging her eyes. She had been dreaming of her late husband again. Her captor and torturer. Ramsay Bolton. She looked around the room, reassuring herself that he was dead. She had watched him killed by his own hounds and then she had those hounds slaughtered. Still, he haunted her nightly. She wondered if she would ever forget his touch, ever forget the feel of him defiling her body, the wicked glint in his eye as she had begged him to stop.

She rose from her bed, the sun was not quite showing its first rays, but the moon was low and she knew that soon the castle would shrug off the quiet of sleep and come alive with preparations. She wrapped a heavy cloak over her night dress and slipped her boots on. She made her way down to the Godswood and to the old Weirwood tree.

She knelt in front of the tree and silently prayed to the Old Gods as her family had done for generations. Once her prayer was completed, she stood and headed back toward the castle. As she neared the courtyard she heard the sharp and repetitive clanging of a hammer on metal. Curious as to which armorer or blacksmith was awake at this early hour she redirected her path toward the forges.

As she arrived she found a young man, no older than she was. His strong arms shaped the hot metal with ease. She watched him for a minute, hypnotized by the grace of his movements. Most blacksmiths brutalized the steel, slammed it into what they wanted the piece to be and look like. This man seemed to know that some strikes needed to be strong, while others needed a gentle touch.

He paused, wiping the beginnings of the sweat from his brow and looked up. His dark eyes met hers and she nodded her head once at him. He immediately stopped what he was doing, placing the hammer down.

"M'Lady" He bowed and stood before her. "Can I be of service to you?"

"What is your name?" She asked taking a step closer to him.

"My name is Gendry Waters m'lady." He answered as his eyes observed the steps she took toward him. She inspected his tools, running her fingers over some of them. A bastard of the Riverlands.

"You are not from the North." She stated as she came to stand across the anvil from him. He was not much taller than her, but she was tall for a woman. He was however broad. His shoulders and arms rippled with muscles and his shirt and apron strained against the width of his muscular chest.

"I am not m'lady." He nodded. "I came from King's Landing." He had the decency to divert his eyes to the ground upon his admission.

"You were a blacksmith there too?"

"Aye."

"So you made weapons for the Lannisters?" She followed the stream of logic.

"Aye," He nodded and his shoulders slumped.

"What circumstances brought you here to Winterfell to make Stark weaponry?" She asked, genuinely curious about the change in allegiance.

"Forgive me m'lady, but that story is a long one and may not be suited for the ears of a highborn as yourself." He at least had the sense to look apologetic.

"How am I to know that you are not going to turncoat on the Starks as you did The Lannisters?" She queried sharply.

"I… uhh," He coughed uncomfortably but his eyes met hers once more. "I can assure you my allegiance was never to the Lannisters. I made them weak and brittle weapons as a form of protest."

She quirked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at the young craftsman. "And you are not doing the same for us?"

"NO!" He almost shouted the words at her before realizing that he was speaking to Lady Sansa Stark. His voice softened. "No, m'lady. The Starks have always been honorable. As you can see I work sun up to sun down for this house. I constantly aim to improve my skill with the hammer. I aim to make weapons as strong and sharp as Valyrian steel for The Stark army. I aim to make armor so strong that arrows are unable to pierce through, stopping before they become lethal. I want the North to survive, I want them to win, I want them to defeat whatever enemies threaten them…" He stops as he feels his rage beginning to bubble. "I apologize m'lady. I can get carried away." He steps from behind the anvil and kneels before Sansa. "I swear to defend House Stark from this day until my last day." He bowed his head waiting for her answer.

"Rise," She touched his shoulder and he stood in a single movement, looking her in the eye. "Thank you for your loyalty Gendry." She nodded her head to him and stepped away, heading back to her chambers. She hoped all her men were as dedicated to the cause as Gendry.

Sansa woke in the same manner she had the morning prior. She calmed her breathing before pulling on her boots and wrapping the heavy fur cloak around her. She retraced her steps to the Godswood, knelt and prayed to the Old Gods. When she rose however she decided to go to the forge, to see if the man Gendry was at work again.

An unbidden smile crossed her face when she heard the metallic clanking and she fought herself from quickening her step. She did not know what drew her to this base born man, but she did not care to evaluate it at this time.

She stood in the shadows further back, watching him at work. She admired his strength and pondered his delicacy. Surely, he could crush a rock into sand if he wanted, but the way with which he held the hammer, it seemed as if he was touching something delicate. He struck true with each downward strike, hitting his mark time after time with little to no deviation.

He flipped the sword over, crashing his tool down onto it and sparks flew. He did not seem to notice as a couple landed on his arms or neck. As he lifted the sword and deposited it into the basin of water she stepped out from the alcove and cleared her throat softly.

He looked up and a slight smile came to his lips. "We seem to be the only two souls awake at this hour again m'lady." A tone of jest in his voice as he removed his gloves, placing them on the anvil before turning to bow.

"It appears that way." She answered.

"And what does m'lady require of me this morning?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and she felt a blush creep onto her face, she was thankful it was not full daylight yet.

"I have been thinking about your desire to create the best weapons in the Seven Kingdoms." She answered. "You well know my brother Jon Snow is wed to Daenerys Stormborn?"

"Aye," Gendry nodded as he took a step closer to Sansa. "I was with your brother at Eastwatch. I was the one who ran back to send the raven to Queen Daenerys to alert her of the wight attack. I saw the way the Queen fretted over his near death north of the wall. I daresay I witnessed the love blossom between them that day."

That took Sansa by surprise. She blanched slightly at his admission. Her respect for him seemed to increase slightly every time they spoke "Thank you for helping to save my brother's life." She thanked him. "Queen Daenerys would not have known of the dire circumstances of Jon's mission had it not been for you." He nodded and smiled sheepishly at her. She cleared her throat before getting back to her original business. "Well, as King Jon and Queen Daenerys are currently in the process of mining metal and dragonglass they are also researching the means by which to make true Valyrian steel. I will recommend that you be the one with which they confer about the creation and mastery of making these weapons."

His eyebrows raised in surprise and a look of dumbfounded appreciation crossed his face. "Th-thank you m'lady!" He was stunned but bowed and reached his hand out in request for hers. She let her fingers rest upon his and with his lips he left a gentle kiss to her knuckles. That kiss and the feel of his rough hands so gentle with hers made something tug deep within her, something she had never felt, something that scared her. She pulled her hand back and nodded her head stiffly.

"I shall leave you to your work." She turned and retreated hastily, her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Sansa's visits had not stopped for a fortnight. Every morning she found herself woken from the same nightmare only to seek out Gendry's company, her prayers to the Weirwood became an after thought. It was him that soothed her, not the prayers. At first, he seemed confused by her visits, not sure whether to continue set aside his work in her presence. Soon though she insisted he continue working as they spoke and laughed. He grew to look forward to their mornings together. Her soft giggles wer like music to him and he wished to make her laugh every day.

She told him of her childhood in the castle. About her siblings and the pranks and fights they would get into. How she swore that half the servants would pull their hair out at the wild northern children of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully.

"I met your Lord Father." He said off-handedly as he was shaping a piece of armor.

"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow at him as she ran her finger over a discarded tool.

"Aye, In King's Landing." He answered looking up at her quickly. "In the shop I apprenticed for."

"Was he purchasing something?" She asked studying him. She discerned that he was debating on telling her this. "I'm not as fragile as you think Gendry. Whatever the purpose I can handle it."

"I didn't say you were fragile m'lady." He answered. "Your father came to ask me questions."

"Questions?" She looked at him, wanting to know more. He sighed heavily as he laid his tools aside.

"Yes," He answered. "Lady Sansa, can we walk?" He asked, pulling his gloves and apron off. She nodded and stepped back as he leaned over and grabbed a doublet, pulling it on over his strong chest.

He offered his arm to her and she grabbed it, a blush creeping up her chest.

"I was born in King's Landing." He began with a sigh. "My mother was a simple woman, worked in a tavern. She had beautiful yellow hair and she used to whistle and sing to me." Sansa smiled, picturing Gendry as a boy, staring at his mother with an awestruck look. "We lived with my grandparents until they became ill and passed away. My mother was forced to marry a wicked man. He hit her, kicked her. I was only a boy of six and could not come to my mother's aid." Sansa's smile faded and she gripped his arm a little tighter. "My mother died to her injuries from one of these attacks and the man, not wanting to feed me sold me to the service of a blacksmith. I became an apprentice. At first I was just used to tidy up, sweep, straighten tools, carry armor and weapons to carts for Knights and Lords." They entered the Godswood, strolling through the snow swept grounds as he told her of his life.

"I was happy enough." He continued. "I missed my mother terribly and would cry for her at night. But the blacksmith told me tears wouldn't bring her back. That I needed to be stronger. He told me one day I might get my change to avenge my mother's death and at that time I would need to be stronger than the man that had taken her life. I began to turn my tears into anger. I picked up a hammer at the age of eight. I began to channel all my rage into the weapons and armor. I became so strong that I could carry crates twice my weight. I could bend hardened steel in half. I knew that if I ever saw that man again, I would break his neck." A rage gripped him and his muscles bulged in reaction to his anger. Sansa ran her hand down the length of his bicep and it seemed to relax him some. He took a long breath.

"When I was fifteen Lord Jon Arryn came to the shop. He had not been interested in purchasing any items but he asked me questions." This is what Sansa had been waiting for, she held her tongue and listened to him. "He asked me about my mother, about my father. I told him that I had no father. The only true father I had known was the blacksmith. He continued to visit me, tossing me a gold coin here or there for my trouble. His affection seemed odd but I thought nothing of it. Then he died and I was slightly saddened. I had come to respect the man. He seemed strong. His death seemed sudden, but life is funny like that sometimes. It wasn't long after that your Lord Father came by."

Sansa found she had been holding her breath and inhaled at the admission. Gendry studied her to see if she was okay with hearing it.

"Continue." She nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Your father began asking the same questions. I felt uneasy. It seemed too coincidental, but I answered them. He told me that if the time ever came that I would prefer to wield a sword rather than make one to contact him." He stopped and turned to look at her.

"I didn't realize it at the time, but I came to learn that my true father was Robert Baratheon." Sansa gasped at the admission.

"I believe…" His breath caught and he looked down at her hands placed in his. "I believe my answers might have killed your father."

"Nonsense." Sansa answered bringing her hand up to his chin. "Joffery killed my father. The Lannisters killed my father. Not you."

"But if I had not answered his questions, perhaps he would not have believed that Joffrey's claim to the throne weak. Perhaps he would have supported Joffrey's ascension to the throne and he would still be in this world." The pain in his eyes was too much and Sansa wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her face in his neck.

"You simply answered questions. My father was the one who entered the lion's jaws." Her voice was brittle as if she was about to break. She pulled back and looked in his eyes, her hand resting on his cheek. "You did not ask to have Robert Baratheon as a father. You are a victim of circumstance and your heart is good. You are a good man Gendry. I do not blame you for my father's death. I do not blame you for the war that sparked as a result of your father's death."

Gendry nodded, his molten brown eyes cast down at her hand on his chest before they slowly came back up to stare into her bright blues.

"Sansa," He whispered, "I fear that if we do not separate, I will want to kiss you."

Sansa was suddenly very aware of his hands on her waist and the way she was pressed to him. His breath was warm on her cheeks, his eyes alight searching hers desperately. She wanted his lips on hers. She wanted all space between them to disappear. A pressure in her chest told her that this was what she wanted, to lose herself in his kiss, in his touch, but her mind told her that he was a bastard that she had a duty to her people to not fall in love with a base born blacksmith. Duty and honor had always been what she put first, it's what made her marry Ramsay; the man that had treated her so horribly. She needed Gendry to eradicate that decision. The war would come soon, who knew if they would both live through it.

Before she could stop herself she whispered, "Then kiss me."

His breath caught as if it was the last thing he expected to hear. But his eyes softened as he closed the distance. She closed hers waiting with baited breath. He stopped just short of her lips and stared at her face. Her closed eyes, parted lips, the blush on her cheeks, the redness that was biting at her nose. She was stunningly beautiful and he wasn't sure how they had ended up here, but it felt as if they had always meant to be there. He closed his eyes and let the distance between his and her lips dissolve.

The kiss was sweet as a summer wine. Their noses touched and his lips were soft but strong. He left them there, not pushing, just letting lips introduce them on a more intimate level. A warmth spread through her and she wrapped her hand around to the back of his neck. It was the kind of kiss she dreamed of receiving when she was a girl and in that moment, she was again; a young naïve girl and he was a handsome and honorable knight. She smiled against his lips and hummed contently. Her unexpected sound urged him on and he deepened the kiss, not much, but enough. He felt her soft tremble. He knew she was strong, but he also knew she was fragile, he had heard tales of the brutality her dead husband had subjected her to. Men talked after all. He knew she was broken and his desire to fix her was strong.

His hands travelled to the small of her back and he held her to him, their kiss was tame but exuded a soft passion and when he finally pulled back she smiled up at him so beautifully he thought his heart might be torn from his chest at the separation.

He cleared his throat before he took a step back, not wanting to push her too far, too fast. He released her waist and pulled her hands back, letting them rest in his own. "M'lady, can I escort you back to your chambers?" He asked softly. She nodded and he wrapped her arm around his own, the two of them returning to the warmth of the castle in quiet, both letting the moment settle on them

As they arrived at the threshold of her bedroom he stopped and turned to her. "Here you are m'lady." She smiled sweetly up at him before she took a step closer. She rested her lips upon his cheek before turning and opening the door to her chambers. She turned and smiled at him longingly as she closed the door. He stood there for a moment, a huge grin took his face and he sighed like a maiden before he turned and headed back to the forge.

A pair of eyes watched him leave, just as they had watched the blossoming couple say their early morning goodbyes. The eyes narrowed on Sansa's door, scheming even as they observed.