Redemption – Chapter 1

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Note: Well, onscreen "Game of Thrones' has been brought to a conclusion, for better or for worse, and Gendrya shippers have been left to sort out their feelings. I have done a major rewrite of this story to take into account the finale, paying particular attention to Arya's character arc. I am trying to accept what I have seen, and write a happy ending. Consider this as my wishful thinking imagining of how it all turns out. I am an older, romantic optimist and like to write fluff, so I hope you like my vision.

This story focuses on the voyage of "Arya the Adventurer" on her ship Nymeria, after she asks, "What is west of Westeros?"

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The War of Five Kings, the Battle of Winterfell, and the Battle of King's Landing were all over and the survivors blinked their eyes and observed the new world, hoping to see that life could return to some form of normalcy. The Kingdoms were devastated by the wars, food production was down, The Night King had left the North a frozen wasteland, and King's Landing was destroyed. Evil Queen Cersei, her lover-brother Jaime were dead, along with Cersei's unnatural champion, Robert Strong, killed by his own dying brother, the Hound, and Cersei's ruthless ally, Euron Greyjoy. King's Landing and many of its inhabitants had been destroyed by Drogon's flames and the dragon queen's madness. Daenerys Targaryen had been killed by Jon Snow Targaryen in order to prevent the future bloodshed she had planned. Her allies, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and Golden Company had all returned to Essos. Jon had been arrested and his fate was to be decided by the lords who were also going to choose the new ruler of Westeros. When it all settled out, Bran Stark was chosen as king, with the clever Tyrion Lannister as his Hand, Sansa Stark was to be crowned Queen of an independent North, which would have its hands full recovering from the Night King's devastation. Jon Snow was exiled to the Wall to travel into the wilderness with the wildings, but that was not really punishment in his eyes.

Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End had been privy to all the proceeding, but cared not a whit for the politics. Lord Gendry was brooding over one thing and one thing only. He had bared his soul and proposed to the love of his life, Arya Stark, the Faceless Man and Killer of the Night King, and not only did she reject him, she wrote him out of her life. She left Winterfell without saying goodbye and could have died in King's Landing. After it all was over, she completely avoided him during the political discussions, acting as though he did not even exist, and then promptly disappeared, once again without a word of farewell to him. Her siblings said she had boarded a ship and intended to sail into the unknown waters west of Westeros, never to return again.

It had been three long years since her departure, yet Lord Baratheon still brooded. He had convinced himself that he had loved the girl, and had been sure that she held strong feelings for him, yet she had found it easy to just to push him right out of her mind and life. Gendry brooded and continued to do what he did best, as he tried to deal with his sorrow. He was an excellent blacksmith, and as a craftsman and skilled builder, his services were in great demand as the kingdom was being rebuilt. There was an enormous amount of work to do, and Gendry split his time between King's Landing and Storm's End, traveling frequently, and contributing greatly to the reconstruction.

However, Gendry Baratheon was also the Lord of the Stormlands, the master of his Great House, and the son of a king, and held many noble responsibilities. But the bastard born smith had no skills or experience for being a lord, and had dreamed that Arya would be his Lady and help him with his duties. His dreams had been cruelly smashed and he lacked the interest to pursue them. Lord Gendry was a conscientious man, though, and when he was in Storm's End, reluctantly heard grievances, judged disputes, and gave succor to the pleading needy. When officiating in the Great Hall, he wore a modest black tunic with a golden stage embroidered on it, and had no taste for ostentatious wealth. He let it be known that he considered his lordly responsibilities as a job, and not an opportunity to abuse power. Davos Seaworth, his devoted mentor and guide, was slowly teaching him how to be the leader of his House, and when he had to make decisions for his vassals, he simply used common sense and compassion. The Stormlanders found him strange at first, but were beginning to value their new lord, as he was simply a practical, humble man.

Unlike previous lords, Gendry had no desire to waste coin on lavish feasts, and seldom entertained guests. However, from the beginning of his elevation, Ser Davos gently reminded him that he was required to fete his bannermen, as one by one, every Stormlands Lord and Lady visited with their marriageable daughters. Gendry was awkward and uncomfortable during these meetings, and could not wait for the gatherings to end. Even though she had been gone for three long years, there was room for only one woman in his heart, and he had no interest in the little ladies. Gendry was also well aware of rolling eyes and the distasteful expressions they wore when they thought he was not looking, because the circumstances of his lowborn birth were well known, and no highborn lady would voluntarily seek to wed him if he did not hold the seat of power over the Stormlands.

So Gendry Baratheon spent much of his time working in the forges of King's Landing and Storm's End, bending metal to his will, creating beautiful and useful objects out of raw iron or steel, and training apprentices to carry on his work.

But day after day Gendry toiled in the forge, shirtless as usual, completing the tasks put before him, trying to keep his hands and mind occupied. Sometimes his thoughts wandered to the forge at Harrenhal, an awful place, but he could not forget his role there and the sight of the small girl lurking nearby, eyes glued to his chest as he worked, and that he could not help but watch her also. I wonder what she would have done if I had dropped my hammer and impulsively kissed her? The smith sighed internally, she would have slapped me, no doubt! But it was a pleasant thought. He buried himself in his work until one day he clearly heard a strong, unmistakably familiar voice demand over his hammering, "What are you doing?"

Gendry Baratheon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again, and turned to the door. There she was, calmly leaning against the frame, staring at him with those wide grey eyes, arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing clean leathers, but a much lighter outfit than the one he had last seen in the cold North. She looked healthy, although there were a few new scars on her face. She was the same, but a little older, and her chestnut hair was longer and braided down her back. He hadn't seen her arrive, so he had no idea if she had any mobile infirmities.

He stared at her face, this girl who had appeared in his dreams every night. Specifically, he was visited by her singular shy, lowered eyelids expression, the one he proudly knew the bold warrior woman wore only for him. Three years at sea had not been kind to her complexion. The sun and wind had dried her skin and drawn thin lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. But the weather had also turned her pale Northern flesh a healthy tan and added a line of freckles over the bridge of her nose. He was tempted to kiss those endearing freckles.

"Forging door hinges, milady. This castle still is in repair. Why are you here?"

She chose not to admonish him as she usually did for addressing her as 'milady', but simply smiled softly, stood upright, and took a graceful step towards him, revealing that her limbs were fine. "Well, I'm sure you are aware that I took ship and sailed west to see the lands beyond the maps. I have seen many lands and met many people and have learned that places and people are much the same all over the world. I began to yearn for friendly, familiar faces, and as luck would have it, my ship brought me to King's Landing two weeks ago. I saw my brother Bran and he told me you were here. I have never been to Storm's End, though, and it was not too far away." She paused, "Bran told me that you never married."

He caught her eyes, "Aye, these ladies do not appeal to me. I do not want a proper lady."

Up until this moment, the girl had exuded supreme self-confidence. Suddenly her eyes lowered, her face became as shy as a child's, and her voice was hesitant, "I never gave you a proper goodbye. Are you pleased to see me?"

Gendry took a deep breath, dropped his hammer, and walked to her, gently taking her hands in his own, "I told you once that all I know is that you are beautiful, and that I love you, and none of it would be worth anything unless you were with me. I meant those words. Arya, I was drunk and I stupidly fucked up the rest of it. Every day and night I think about that, and wish I could have done it differently. But know that all I wanted was for you to be with me, simply be with me."

Arya met his gaze and calmly answered, "And I responded that I am not a lady. I never was. That's not me."

"You can be whatever you want!" Gendry exclaimed emotionally, dropping her hands and gesticulating, "I love you the way you are and I do not want to make you into anything different that is not you! I would not nag you to marry me and have my babes! If you want to spar and ride all day, that is fine with me! I would not ask you to wear a gown, unless it has acorns on it." She could not help but giggle at the memory of Acorn Hall. That was the first time they had really touched each other, and it had been fun. They were both becoming more relaxed.

He continued, "You wanted to see the world, have adventures. I understand that now. I did not realize that I was offering you a prison sentence. That was wrong. Well, did you meet many interesting people?" And then nervously, "Did you meet any men?"

The traveler knew what he was implying, "I met many men. Some viewed me with fear, hatred, or anger. That was easy to deal with. I understand violence better than most people. Many more viewed me with lust and I am used to deflecting that emotion. But some men were insistent and I was forced to kill or maim them when they became too forward."

"Did you meet any that you liked?"

Now Arya smiled as some memories, "There is a sort of man that is attracted to a woman such as myself. I met several handsome and silver-tongued princes and pirates who flattered me and cleverly attempted to bed me. I even let a few kiss me. But I knew that they only considered me to be a conquest and they were eager to brag that they had fucked the Night King's killer. I would never let men like that see me naked or stick their cock in me."

"So you took no lovers?" It was obvious that Gendry was very interested in her answer.

With a wicked grin, she replied, "Well, no men as lovers, but I will not say more. On those rare occasions that I felt too lonely, I touched myself and imagined a handsome man with a pair of bright blue eyes and an adoring expression." She suddenly looked shy again and murmured, "That is one reason that I am here."

Gendry's eyes widened and he practically choked. "Well, now I can truly say that I am pleased to see you. I just want you to be here so that we can talk and share meals together," he continued, "and mayhaps," he smiled a little, "spend the nights together, too."

Her eyes were lowered as she reached for and squeezed his hands and murmured, a soft smile on her face, "That might be nice."

The Hound had planned to kill his brother and did not intend to leave the Red Keep alive. However, he did not want Arya to share his fate. He grabbed her and looked sharply at her and gritted out, "Cersei is dead! Go home, girl! Don't fucking waste your life alone and miserable like I have! Live your life!"

Arya considered her departed friend's words and caught Gendry's eyes, repeating, "Aye, that might be nice." But then her eyes clouded and she appeared troubled, complaining, "But frankly, Gendry, all I got out of our wrestling on those grain sacks before the battle was a lingering pain between my legs. I worried all night that it would interfere with my fighting ability and make me vulnerable. But I learned at the House of Black and White how to suppress pain and ignore it when needed. I did like the feeling of our naked bodies lying together and felt a thrill when my teats brushed your chest, but I still do not see what all the fuss is about." She was still confused about the meaning of their brief tryst, but one memory stood out: When she boldly leaned in to kiss him, he stared at her wide-eyed, and breathed, "Ar'a!" pronouncing her name as if it were a prayer. That was another reason why she had returned to him.

Gendry grinned and leaned closer, daring to brush his lips against her cheek, then leaned back, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief, "I do not have much more experience than you do, but mayhaps together we can discover what all the fuss is about, because surely there is an awful lot of it."

"That does sound interesting," she whispered, and, ah! there was that shy little smile that made his knees weak and caused him to want to impulsively hug her and kiss that silly little bun on the top of her head. Arya shifted her mouth closer to his, closing her eyes and preparing to give him a deep kiss, as deep as the one she left him with after breaking his foolish heart. It was the right thing to do, because all the passion that she had put into that kiss returned immediately and she realized that she belonged here, within the arms that now embraced her, as Gendry moaned with satisfaction and he returned her ardor. They both became lost in their emotions, needing the reassurance that this reunion was meant to be.

Finally, their lips parted, but not their torsos. Arya ran her hand over the fine black hairs covering his bare chest, and Gendry stroked her back with his strong hands, but not even attempting to cup her sweet bottom. That would come later. Gendry took a deep breath, and suggested, "Well, now that you are here, would you like to take a tour of the castle? I would love to show you my home!"

Leaning back and appearing relaxed and comfortable, Arya smirked, "Aye! That sounds like a good idea! Tell me, are there any feisty old tomcats?!"

"I am not sure," he replied with a puzzled expression, breaking their embrace but taking her hand and entwining their fingers warmly, "but I think we can find out."

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Note: I hope you like my fantasy.