She wandered around for hours.
She had no more feelings in her feet because of the cold, but Arya Stark couldn't care less. The fight was over and – somehow – they had won.
She had heard all kind of talk of other survivors. Crazy talk. Talk about magic and gods, of Daenerys Taragryan and the Red Priestress and her brother, Jon Snow. They differed in start and in the middle but all the stories were the same in the end: Saying that the Dragon Queen was dead and Jon Snow had ridden the dragons into victory.
Arya wondered if she should wonder how everything could had happen as it did ... all the suffering, the death, the war. But she was beyond caring, actually.
The blood, the screams, the horror of the white winter nights and the fires had cut deep into her and left her numb.
Fear does cut deeper than swords. And the marks bleed longer too.
She had wandered around and set every corpse on fire she stumbled upon, when she heard his voice.
He kneeled next to a man and both were covered in mud and blood and snow and Gendry pressed his hands over a large hole in the mans stomach. Pressing back the blood and entails.
He said things like everything would get better. Stupid things, that the soldier would see his family again, his mother, the girl he loved and wanted to wed when the war was over. The dying soldier hung at his lips and Gendrys deep, calming voice till the very last moment his heart was beating.
When it was over, Gendry sighed, whispered something that sounded like a prayer and set the corpse on fire.
When he turned around, his face was covered in a thick beard and black hair hung into his eyes. It was their colour that make Arya stumble forward, slung her arms around his broad neck and pressing his lips on his.
His hands were so big they covered her head when he pulled her head back, so he could look into her eyes. Her grey eyes, not the masked ones she brought with her from Braavos. This was Gendry. She had never been able to fool him. She didn't wanted to fool him, anyway.
It took him some moments, but then he asked with a husky voice: "Arya?"
She kissed him again. He pulled her away a second time, but never let her go, never let go.
"Are you real? Or am I dead and this is my personal hell with you as haunting ghost, appearing and vanishing again?"
She had to laugh and cry at the same time and with a broken voice she whispered: "And you continue saying stupid thing. I'm glad you do. I missed that."
Satisfied with this as an answer he hugged so tight she couldn't breathe. But Arya Stark was beyond caring.
(c)aditu90