"Are you going to move out with the army tomorrow?"

Arya let out a deep breath, not quite a sigh, and looked over her shoulder at Gendry as she pullled on her trousers and tucked in her under shirt. Gendry was still laying on the bed they had coupled in throughout the night; propped up against the headboard with the thick fur blanket they had used to ward of the cold covering the bottom half of his naked form. The light of dawn was poking through the window and bathing the room in a small glow. He was tanner and dirtier and more scarred than when they had traveled together, but the hard work of a blacksmith kept him in fine shape still. The lines on his face and scars on his body made him look more of a man, though there was no doubt he was. He had almost been a man grown when she had still been but a scrawny girl afterall.

"I haven't decided yet. Part of me wants to fight; to protect Jon and see if I can kill the Queen myself," she paused to sit on the edge of the bed and drag her boots and socks over to her from where she had dumped them last night, "But the last time Starks went to King's Landing things went to shit for us. And I don't want to leave Winterfell again. Not so soon. Maybe not ever. What about you? Are you going to go or stay?"

It was a simple a question on face value, a light inquiry. Between them it was not, however. It brought forth to both of them the memory of a younger Arya, a hopeful and not so scarred version, pleading with an also younger Gendry to stay with her. To a Gendry who had denied her and left her on her own. To the many bad things that happened after.

Gendry did not feel remorse for the choice he made, his reasons had been sound and true, but it was a feeling that lingered in how it was the way it had to be. There was only so much he could've done for her then. He had still been an apprentice back then, and he was not only a young man of no house or standing, but a bastard with no family name to speak of. The fact that he was a Royal bastard was all the worst. Hell, he doubted the dragon queen would take to him having a claim to the throne any better than the Lannister one. As if he wanted the damn thing anyway. Arya had been a child back then, too. Children change their minds all the time, and he couldn't bank his future on the words of a small girl who wanted to be his friend, but probably wouldn't be when she reached home to her highborn family.

There still wasn't much he could do for her now either, honestly. He was a blacksmith now, up there with the best of them, but between hiding and running and the army of the dead coming to kill them all he's hardly had the chance to open up his own forge and earn any real living.

And she, she was Lady Arya Stark of House Stark. First of her name and Slayer of the Night King. Savior to the Realm. The gap between them had definitely increased. Even though they were closer now than they had ever been.

"I swore my loyalty and smithing skills to your brother. I am technically a member of his army." He rubbed a hand across the scruff on his face and then over head as he continued to speak "My balls are permantly frozen here, but I'd be lying if I said I wanted to go back to Kings Landing either. I'll always be looking over my shoulder, but I'm more paranoid there than elsewhere that someone will come around and start asking questions about my father again. I don't need anymore Kings or Queens worring about me wanting to rule the Seven Kingdoms one day. Plus I'm no swordsman. I can fight and swing a hammer, and I will if I need to, but I don't belong on no battlefield with a bunch of fancy knights and sellswords."

Resignation washed over his face as he finished; puffing out a breath from his lungs and knocking his head against the headboard. Saying everything out loud made it clear that he was still a man with few choices. Even fewer good ones. Come tomorrow morning he'd probably be on the road traveling to fight another war against an army that was most likely much larger than the previous one, and most assuredly bigger than theirs. They had lost a lot of people fighting those monsters.

Arya finished lacing her boots up and twisted sideways to face him, shuffling slighty as she did so. She cocked her head a little to the side and slid her eyes over his form before settling on his eyes; her lips twitching upward on one side for a brief seconed before smoothing out. "And If I asked you to stay with me? Here in Winterfell? Even if one or both of us go, would you come back and stay with me?"

Her voice was calm and steady. Her gaze resting firmly on his. It was vastly different than the last time she asked him to stay with her. There was no begging in her tone or heartache on her face. No small wobble to her lips or beseeching eyes filling up with moisture. She asked it like she had asked him to make that spear for her. Like she knew what the answer was already, but had posed the question simply for the sake of asking.

He sat up straight and fisted the blanket in his hand, pulling more of it against him. Hesitating before he spoke.

"Even if I stayed or came back I couldn't stay with you. My place is not to stand beside you. Things are...crazy right now, but they'll get back to normal. You would still only be Mi Lady, a highborn meant to-" Arya cut him of with a burst of laughter and a shake of her head. She swiped a hand up to wipe a tear of mirth from her eye and full on grinned at him. "Meant to what, exactly? Marry some useless Lord for some useless allaince and sit in his castle? Spending my days gossiping and sewing with my lady maids while trying to give him as many male heirs as I can at night like a brooding mare?"

She stood up and grabbed the thick, dark over shirt she wore from the ground and pulled it on over her inner one. "There is no Lord who would marry me without the notion of changing me into a proper lady or wanting something from me. Jon would never barter me away and Sansa would no more force me into an arranged marriage than she would accept another one forced onto her." She grabbed her vest than and spun back to facing him as she buttoned it up. "I might want marriage and kids one day. Maybe with you and maybe not, but most certainly not with anyone whom you imagine belongs at my side."

Arya grabbed her cloak at last and slung it over her shoulders before heading to the door, Gendry watching her with rapt attention as he continued to listen to her words. Mouth parted slightly in awe of her. "I'll do want I want, with who I want. Which right now is you. So stop using our status' as an excuse and figure out if you want me. Stay or go. Come back or don't. But don't let the rules of other people decide for you, because I don't follow them anyway. I don't care if you're a bastard without lands and titles, not that it would matter even if it did bother me." She pulled open the heavy wooden door and paused, craning her neck to look at him one last time. "Because I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. My home will be Winterfell until I die, and any child I have will be a Stark of Winterfell."

She swept out the door than, calling out as she did so. "And for the record, I said if I asked you! I haven't decided yet if I will or not!

Gendry huffed out a semi incredulous laugh and threw the fur off him as he got up to pull his own briches and shirt on."Bloody hell, crazy woman. Alright then. If she doesn't care, than I won't. And when her brother wants my head and the northerners riot for their princess's honor I'll tell her she can bloody well fight them all off. That's what I'll do."

-End-

Just a little thing I had in my head that wouldn't go away. I worked hard to get out before 8x04, so it might be a little rushed, but I hope you like it! Can't wait to see what really happens though. :) And don't forget to drop a review on your way out! Thanks!