AN: sorry this story idea has just been there! I have no clue where it's going but it's mainly for laughs. it's not a huge priority at the moment so don't take it too seriously. It will be really unoriginal perhaps a bit cheesy...I have a feeling the rating will change to M and when it does i will have a little melt down and ask where my life is going. SO ENJOY!

Chapter 1:

He had not planned on stealing one of the princesses of Winterfell. It wasn't even premeditated- at least not on his part. The girl was now I sitting beside him in the front of his wagon arms crossed and eyes forward, set on something unseen by him or anyone but her.

"I'm a dead man you know." He finally said after a long drawn out silence. He stole cheap glances at her watching to gauge her response. She didn't look at him only, if it were possible, farther into the forest. He thought she was about to ignore him as was acceptable of someone of her blood and rank.

"The only thing that will get you killed is your girlish tittering nerves." He knew she was right but he also saw the strain her jaw as she tried to force the both of them to see her logic.

He had been sent to Winterfell to fill the void left by the bedridden blacksmith, Mikken, until he was in better health. In that time he had not ever formally met any of the disgraced former King's Hand's children, only glimpses here and there and less of the only daughter. She was not the only daughter as Mikken had told him but rather the second and second thought of her mother but with the eldest in the capital being primed for marriage to prince Joffrey, Lady Catelyn had to focus on the more difficult of her daughter. The girl constantly kept close to the tumbles of her mother's skirts with her head down and a fresh sulk. He hadn't thought much of what hid behind those sulks not even when she would coolly regard him with her wintery grey eyes. He was trained to keep his head down. If he had lifted his eyes once, maybe he would have seen.

"Do you even know where you are going?" he tried again, poorly hiding his vexation.

"King's landing." She through out mechanically but then she turned to look at him her those too sharp eyes, " But not yet." And then she looked forward.

He realized he was still looking at her, in some sort of after spook, as the wheels of his cart unassuradly conquered some rocky ground and made him bit his tongue.

"AH FUCK!" and she smiled.

They stopped for the night near a small clearing on a shallow river's shore. He had set some snares for fish only to watch them sail down the river's path. The princess snorted and went into the satchel she had brought with her. She had filched quite a bounty of food so he went and started a tiny fire where they sat in unresolved conflict and indecision. She was watching the fire which caught her eye as any flame on steel. She had a strength about her that he couldn't quite place.

"Why is it that highborn lady comes to hide in my ol' cart?" He asked, not unkindly. He felt the heaviness of this social offence even if she chose to look away. Highborn lady were not supposed to talk with let alone travel with bastards of no noble birth. He still felt the chill from finding her curled under a rough burlap blanket in his wagon, soot covering her pretty face and her hair the perfect site for a bird to land in. They had never spoke at the castle and if not for her tendency to walk the small town square he might not have ever seen her, though she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was a rather strong-willed girl and would often be the source of some joke. He remembered how well she swore with the stable boys or how she always offered to help the butcher with the meat carvings. She didn't sit inside with the other gentlewomen she would rather buzz around with the dogs chasing behind her. Mikken had told him that she was sent back to Winterfell as a sort of punishment for something that happened between her and the prince. Gendry hadn't realized how much he had actually followed her. His was more aware of her then he had first imagined and with her so close with no lady mothers, or measters.

" She was going to marry me off. She was hiding it from me but I saw the letter." She wrapped her shawl tighter around her. It was rather worn looking and he figured that she stole it from a maid. He didn't quite understand her explanation though.

"Isn't that what ladies do?" the punch came unannounced and unsuspectingly to his arm. It was like being hit with a snowball no real pain but a certain amount of shock but he knew he had hit a sore spot.

"I will never be a lady!" She shouted. She stood up and paced a while , trying to calm herself. He watched as she tried to sort it out in her head. He could see she was scared." I never wanted to be a lady," she finally admitted looking down at her dress, " I hate dresses and stupid needlework and manners and stuck up little lords!"

" I suppose that might rub some the wrong way." He offered, easing onto his elbows. She looked at him with disbelief but then sat down beside him, arms wrapped around her knees.

" She wants me to be like Sansa but I can't sing, dance or sew." She bit her lip waiting for him to say something prophetic. He found if funny that a princess was turning to a lowborn blacksmith for advice and not some Septon, she must have taken too many winters, her brain must have froze.

"Did you meet you're little husband?"

" I could easily beat him to a pulp." She muttered darkly, a little smile threatening to peak.

" Sounds like a good marriage." He laughed. He saw all amusement leave her face. He was expecting her to hit him again or stomp off in a hissy but she did neither.

"What do you plan on doing then?" what did he plan on doing? By now he was a man grown only looking for a town to settle in. The money he had made from his stay in Winterfell could open a reasonable shop and eventually finding himself a wife. He looked at lady Arya again. She was looking at him, challenging him to speak.

"S'pose what all blacksmith's do- smith."

She didn't add anything witty to that. Perhaps m'lady was tired of speaking with the lowborn blacksmith. She grabbed some bread ripped off two hearty chucks, throwing the one at him. He nodded as thanks and took a bite.

"We'll need a story if we'll be travelling together. Does anyone know you in Torrhen's Square?"

"Not since I was four." He could hear the excitement in her voice and he mentally cursed himself.

"Alright. You can come with me but you follow my lead. You're not a lady anymore."

"I never was!" She laughed, a total transformation from the sulking and cold attitude of before. Damn. Now he really couldn't say no. Pretty girls were such a pain in the ass. He was most likely just another dumb sop playing right into her plans.

"Good. We're sleeping on the ground." He commanded, throwing some peat on the fire to let it sleep too before throwing himself unto his side. He shuffled to get comfortable when he felt her at his back. "What are you doing?" He hissed.

"Keeping warm stupid." She wiggled her back against his and snuggled deeper into her shawl. Before he knew it she was breathing evenly and gone to the world. Gendry wished he could sleep that easily but somehow he kept having images of the Northmen hunting for his head.