"Arya! Arya, wake up!"
Arya groaned, groggily sitting up in bed. Her brown, shoulder-length hair was tousled about her head.
"Wake up, Arya!" Sansa's voice drifted through the wooden door as she pounded on it. "The king will be here today!"
"Right," Arya yawned. "The King...the King!"
Arya's grey eyes lit up. She hadn't seen the king since she was one-and-ten. Now that she was five-and-ten, this visit had been long awaited.
"You'd better wear that dress!" Sansa's curt voice cut through Arya's thoughts.
Arya's brightened features soured. She turned her gaze to the silver, silk dressed laid out for her in the corner of the room.
"And don't even think of a grand escape! I have guards watching you," Sansa said before Arya heard her footsteps retreat down the hall.
Arya grumbled to herself. Sansa was worse than their mother had ever been. But now that Sansa was Lady of Winterfell, she felt it necessary to nitpick about every little thing.
Sighing, Arya ripped the covers from her body and got to her feet, shivering as she did so. Arya donned the stupid dress. It was clingy around her bosom and her hips and she cringed. She longed for the comfort of her stable clothes. Not to mention, the king would more than likely make a jest about Arya's girly clothing. But Arya decided there was nothing she could do about it and moved on.
She set to taming her hair. It was short, but it was thin, meaning the tangles and knots in her hair took a while to comb out. It was times like these she wanted to hack it all off, but that hadn't looked very good on her five years ago; surely it wouldn't look good now.
When Arya was finished, she gazed into the mirror. The woman staring back at her was not the girl the king had once known. Her face had thinned out and high cheek bones shaped her face. Her once flat chest had blossomed and now her breasts threatened to spill out of the tight dress.
What would the king see when he saw Arya today? Would he recognize her? Would he acknowledge her changes or still see the stubborn little girl he'd once called Arry?
Arya looked down at the dresser she sat at. Sansa had laid out makeup for her. For a split second Arya thought: if she wore makeup, surely the king would see her how she was now. But then she quickly dismissed the silly thought. She had never once cared what people had thought of her, least of all a stubborn bull.
Arya got to her feet and exited her room. Sansa had not been lying; two guards were stationed outside her door. Arya rolled her eyes and made her way down to the great hall. That's when she heard a horn sound.
Sansa came rushing out of nowhere, grabbing Arya by the arm. "They are here!"
Sansa pulled Arya along and they soon found themselves outside, being approached by a large company. At the head was the king himself, riding a smoky gray horse.
"Your Grace," Sansa bowed as the king approached those awaiting for him.
The king dismounted his horse, handing the reigns to his young squire. He then assessed the two young women who stood in front of the interested Winterfell residents.
The king's eyes lingered on Arya and she noticed something flash in his deep blue eyes.
"M'lady," the king bowed, but his eyes never left Arya.
"Don't call me that, idiot," Arya scoffed.
"Arya!" Sansa hissed. "That is the king!"
Arya shrugged. The king's blue eyes gleamed.
"M'lady," he repeated on purpose. "Would you walk with me?"
Surprise registered on Sansa's face. "Your Grace, surely you must be weary from travel-"
"And what is more relaxing than a nice stroll?" the king said, trying to sound serious. He held his hand out to Arya. "M'lady?"
Arya bristled at the title, but under Sansa's warning gaze and in front of a hundred people, Arya had no choice but to accept the king's hand and let him lead her.
"I should kill you," Arya whispered as they left the others behind.
"In that getup? Can you even move in that thing?" the king quipped.
"Barely, yet still better than you, Gendry," Arya said.
Gendry smirked. "You haven't changed a bit."
"But you have. Almost didn't recognize you with all that royal, polite talk," Arya teased her old friend.
Gendry nudged her shoulder with his. Arya smiled up at him.
Gendry had changed as much as Arya. His figure was even broader, his muscles large. His jaw was now chiseled and he wore his hair the way befit a king.
"So m'lady," Gendry said, making Arya scowl. "I do hope this doesn't make your suitor jealous."
Arya snorted in a very unfeminine manner. "What suitor? What about your queen? Won't she be lonesome without you?"
"Queen? I haven't taken a queen," Gendry said matter-of-factly.
This took Arya by surprise. Curiosity pulled at her. "Why?"
Gendry smiled wistfully, staring up at the blue sky. "I guess I've been waiting for the right one to come around. I do have one in mind but..."
"But...?"
"But she's kind of stubborn and might not want me."
"How do you know for sure?"
"I don't."
"Only one way to find out," Arya said, but her heart wasn't in the comment.
"I agree," Gendry said. He pulled Arya by the hand, turning her to face him. She placed her free hand on his chest to steady herself.
"What are you doing?" Arya asked, flustered as she realized how close she was to Gendry.
"Do you remember when you told me I could be a part of your family?" Gendry asked quietly.
"You said no," Arya whispered, still feeling the pang of hurt when he had rejected her.
"But things are different now. I am king."
Arya wrenched free of Gendry, her eyes flashing. "So now I'm good enough?"
Gendry's own eyes betrayed his sudden irritation. "It was never about you being good enough."
"Bull, Gendry!"
"It wasn't!"
"Yeah? Then what was it about?"
Gendry took a step towards Arya, making her shrink back a bit. "There was no way I could just call you m'lady and nothing else. I couldn't see you every day and not be able to talk to you!"
Arya's bitterness dissipated for a moment. "It wouldn't have-"
"It would have been that way and you know it."
"So what do you want now?" Arya asked, feeling defensive.
"You," Gendry said, catching hold of Arya's hands.
The words took Arya aback, but they could not take back the years of bitterness Arya had harbored over Gendry's rejection, so she pulled away. "Well I don't want you."
Hurt flashed in Gendry's eyes. "Arya-"
"Go away," Arya commanded, turning her back on Gendry.
There was a long moment of silence before Arya heard Gendry leave. She immediately regretted what she had said. She had always wanted Gendry with her. If she hadn't, she wouldn't feel so bitter and angry. But now she had wounded him. He probably wouldn't even look at her now...
The snapping of a twig behind her made Arya perk her head up. She hadn't time to turn around before she was forcefully spun and she was facing Gendry. She mouthed his name.
Gendry said nothing. Holding Arya by the shoulders, he pulled her close and pressed his lips firmly against hers. She did not resist.
"Gendry, why me?" Arya murmured against his lips.
"Because you are my Arya," he replied, holding the Stark closer. "Even when you were gone, all I thought of was you."
"Yes..." Arya whispered. "And I of you..."
Gendry kissed her deeply once more and words were lost to the woods around them. It didn't matter the years that had gone by and how Arya had missed Gendry. Because he was here now, in her arms, and he was no longer just a thought; he was hers.