There are some moments, rare moments, where Arya will come to Gendry. Not to say she does not visit him at all. She does, quite a lot more then any royal should ever visit a blacksmith. However, the rare moments he speaks of are not the ones where she comes barreling in, demanding he set aside his work and train with her, or the nights where she insists she sleeps on a bed of hay next to him because her feather bed just doesn't feel right anymore. They aren't the nights where Arya comes to him asking for nothing more than to see and confirm his presence there, or the days she throws a hammer about for one reason or another.
No, his favorite moments were the rare ones when Arya would come to him, and say nothing at all as she embraces him. Her small arms would link together at the other side of his frame. Tightening her grip on him saying nothing at all.
The first time it happened he was scared. Twas the night before the first fight of the war between the others, and them. The first real stand of the humans against the others outside from the small skirmishes that occurred on their journey down. Gendry can still recall that night almost perfectly. He hadn't rested in days, working around the clock to make all the weapons the army would need. He even had help from a few northerners that knew their own way around the smithery.
Still, he was alone that night. The other hands have taken to sleeping upstairs or to go back to their tents within the yard. A few even found shelter within the castle to rest. Gendry hardly rested anymore by that point. That night he had stayed up until he could see dawn beginning to rise. Then he would rest for a couple hours at most and wake up when it was fully visible. Alone on a stack of hay, he was given. The straw was better than the dirt he had grown used to sleeping on.
It was still dark when she first came. A little thing filled with rage, and a new power she hadn't possessed before. The air was chilled with the approach of winter. It was already colder than his nights beyond the wall had felt. Gendry heard Jon tell warning that the closer their enemies get the colder the air will turn. Gendry spent his whole work that night wondering how far were the others, how much time did they have left?
Arya didn't make her presence known right away. Gendry found her standing in the middle of the entrance to Winterfell's forge as he turned around to set down another finished sword. His eyes froze as he saw the princess before him. Her pale skin, long dark hair, and leather and fur armor making her seem as if she was the embodiment of a winter's night itself. Gendry still swears he heard wolves calling that night. They were so loud he thought they could be calling all the way from the Riverlands, but no one else heard their calls that night. Only Gendry and the roaring flames behind him.
Arya wordlessly wanders into the forge, and before Gendry could think of a funny way of telling her she shouldn't be there, the warrior wrapped her hands around his lower waist. A sense of warmth he had been struggling to keep fills him then. Before he could stop himself, Gendry lets slip, "You're still so small Arry. Your head barely reaches my chest."
He expected her to punch him, or push him as soon as he had spoken. Instead, the young, wild wolf girl just squeezed him tighter, digging her sharp nails into his back. Gendry holds back any noise that she may have been hoping to cause by the pain.
They stood there for a while. Long enough for Gendry to watch the moon sink ever lower behind the castle's walls. Arya's grip gave no sign of loosening. Not that Gendry was complaining about it. If she was just a little taller he could kiss her forehead. That would get a reaction out of the little she-wolf.
Instead, Gendry bends down and lifts her up by her legs. The young lady squeezes her arms tighter around him before demanding, "What are you doing?" Her voice stern, an attempt to hide her surprise.
"Giving you a lift, milady," Gendry explains as he holds her legs at their bend, close to his chest. She lifts her arms up so she wasn't bent at such an awkward angle.
Gendry hides his smile by setting his head on top of hers. She still felt lighter than a child, even after years of them being separated, and all the training she claimed to have done. Or perhaps he had gotten stronger while she grew as well. The small wolf and her giant bull. Yes, he liked that thought. Arya begins to squirm a little as Gendry moves her back over to the haystacks. He could still hear the snoring of the men above. He carries her right past the hay that was meant to be his bed, and to the dark of the back of the forge. Gendry felt Arya relax as he moves aside a loose board from the back wall.
He knew it would be smarter to stay in the forge. It was warm after all, and he could still work as they sat together, but somehow it felt to crowded in the night. They all could die tomorrow, and tonight he knew exactly where to take her. There was no place in this castle Arya Stark did not know. She and her siblings made that know as they showed everyone escape routes one after the next in case the castle ever fell.
"Where are we going?" Arya asks as they travel through the snow.
Gendry shifts her weight so he could free one hand while still carrying her. He points to the weirwoods. Arya gives him a pensive look before her silver eyes reflect a glint of light from the moon above as they look back ahead.
Gendry had spent a few precious moments he had searching the castle that was Arya's childhood home. He had not yet made his way to the weirwood trees where the Starks had prayed to their old gods for generations. The smith had heard rumor of a warm pond among the ancient trees. It was supposed to always be heated and apparently never froze over even during the winter times. A perfect place to stay warm and share a few moments with his long-lost Stark. After only a minute Arya knew the boy was lost. Somehow she also knew his intent. Placing her hands against his chest, she frees herself with one great push.
Without a word, Arya grabbed Gendry's hand and led him through the old gods. Their faces of blood sent more than one shiver through his spine. As silent as a cat Arya weaves her way through the trees. Only stopping when they made it to the body of water that had been Gendry's original goal. Arya bent down and rested a hand onto of the water. Steam greeted her and curled around her hand.
"Legend is that their is a dragon that rests beneath the lake. That is why the water is always warm." Arya looked over at him and motions him closer. "One of Old Nan's stories." She said by way of explaining.
A few months ago he would have said that was impossible. Dragons were gone, but after seeing Daenerys' dragons. After riding one, he knew them to be very much alive now.
"Is it safe to swim?" Gendry asked only recieving a shrug back. Arya takes off her boots, and rolls up her pant legs before throwing them into the pond. Her legs up to the crook of her knee were in the water. Gendry sits a little closer to Arya then the pond but could still feel plenty of heat from it. Or perhaps it had been from how close Arya was back then.
Arya's silver eyes reflected the pond for a great amount of time that night. Neither of them knowing if that night would be their last. He had wanted to say something in that moment back then, but was too afraid of ruining it. He wanted to hear more of Old Nan's stories, and about her life as a child here, if these trees could actually see them with their heavy presence, or if she even still wanted him to be her family. After so many years away, he had realized the answer not long after their separation. He did.
Arya moved closer to Gendry, not bothering to take her legs out of the water. Silent, her eyes like steel, she leaned over to him and gave him a kiss. It was rough, and rush, and she had bit him a little then, but overall Gendry wouldn't complain. It answered a question he did not want to ask. Once Arya moved away she smirked, most likely because she could see his blush even in the pale moonlight. That was their last night of true peace before the biggest war anyone had ever seen started, and they spent it alone, in quiet, by a pond that spilled clouds of steam around them. It was the warmest Gendry had ever been since being in the north, and until the heat of battle was ending he had never been warmer after.
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