|AN|: Hi Everyone! This is my first (and most likely last) attempt at Game of Thrones fanfiction. I just love the idea of Arya and Gendry so much, that I had to get it out of my system. This story is basically my version of the tale of Arya and Gendry's reunion. They deserved it in season 7, but since it didn't happen then, I hope the writers will share it with us in season 8.

I hope you enjoy this little piece, I came up with.

Of course I own nothing.

I COULD BE BOTH

The meal was good. Warm, solid and just enough spicy for her liking. The meal was home, and so was the person she was sharing it with. Her sister.

Sansa looked up as she felt Arya's stare on her face and she raised her eyebrow, meeting her sister's eye.

"What?" She asked, making Arya shake her head slightly.

"I just never thought I would get to do that again," she answered, fiddling with the fork at the side of her unfinished dinner.

"Do what?"

"Be home," responded the younger Stark, smiling a bit under her nose. "See you alive," she added, making her sister chuckle darkly.

"I could say the same thing about you. I thought you were dead for years." Sansa stated, putting down her utensils and moving around the table to sit closer to her younger siblings. "But you are here... You are you," she said with a note of wonder in her voice. "Except... You kill people now." She added and Arya smiled brightly at her sister's statement. Smiling. This felt weird too.

"Only the ones who deserve it," explained Arya and Sansa nodded, remembering Baelish's body bleeding out on the ground. She did feel weird with killing him, or making the call to kill him, but she knew one thing for sure. He definitely deserved it.

"Do you think we can still pick it up?" asked Sansa, genuinely curious about her little sister's opinion.

"Pick what up?"

"What is left of our family?" She clarified and Arya looked straight in her eyes with her eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Is it not what we've been doing for the last couple of weeks?" She asked. "You could easily believe Littlefinger about me wanting to kill you. You could easily turn your back on me, but you didn't. You knew better than this. You knew I would never raise a hand on my family, no matter what our differences," stated Arya calmly, covering her sister's hand with her own. "You knew that I love you, no matter how much you annoy me sometimes," she finished, even if the last words were harder to say than anything she said in a while.

She saw the surprise on Sansa's face at her confession, but she just waited it out with a half-smile expression. "If that's not picking up the pieces, I don't know what is." She added squeezing her sister's hand. With every moment she spent at home, with Sansa and Bran, even if he was hardly Bran anymore, she was less and less no one and more and more Arya Stark again. It was scary, but wasn't it what she wanted? When she left Bravos, she told the faceless man, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell.

Now, she was planning on staying Arya Stark for the rest of her days.

They were interrupted by a loud knock on the door, followed by a stable boy running inside, already bowed in half as he entered.

"Lady Sansa, there's two raiders at the gate. One of them seems to be Tormund, the wildling from the King's army, but I can't recognise the other one, My Lady." He panted, making both of the Stark ladies stand up at once.

"What direction did they come from?" Arya asked, hoping that they might be here to announce Jon's upcoming arrival.

"North, My Lady," replied the boy making Arya and Sansa look at each other questioningly. From Jon's raven, they knew they were coming from King's Landing, which was the opposite direction.

"Lead them to the main room at once. My sister and I will be there in a minute," ordered Sansa and she looked towards Arya as soon as they were left alone once more. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" she asked with a sigh.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't hear, she couldn't feel. She could only see, even if what she saw seemed more unreal than the army of the dead.

She heard the murmur of the man named Tormund's voice as he hastily reported the latest news to Sansa, but she couldn't recognise most of the words. Wall... Dragon... North...

"Who's your companion?" Sansa asked finally, and the boy... No, the man reluctantly turned his head slightly towards the lady of Winterfell.

"The name is Gendry, Lady Sansa. I'm... I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard son," he replied, making Sansa's eyebrows rise impossibly high. She looked at her younger sister to share a surprised look with her only to notice that Arya's eyes were glued to the man and he was staring at her openly as well.

There was a kind of pain in his eyes that she wished she couldn't understand and Arya looked like she'd seen a ghost. The ghost of someone who's loss tore her soul apart.

"He's a good lad, saved our lives when we were north of the wall... All of our lives, including that stupid brother of yours that almost got us all killed in the first place." Tormund stated, slightly confused by the whole situation, but no more than Sansa, who now stared at her sister with interest and a note of worry.

"Arya?" she asked, reaching her hand out to touch Arya's shoulder, only to back up suddenly, when the younger Stark finally spoke up.

"Is that true?" Was the question, directed at none other than Gendry himself and he jerked slightly, startled by her voice. He nearly forgot how it sounded, a warm melody, now slightly raspy as she'd got older, but as soon as he heard it, he was hit with a flood of memories. He wasn't sure what part she was asking about, but he knew that whatever she was seeking confirmation of, his answer could be only one.

"Yes, M'Lady," he rasped with a slight bow, his voice rough from the cold air that had punched his lungs while riding at a mad speed towards Winterfell. He felt like the only thing keeping him from freezing to death now was her warm voice and piercing stare. He could hear her loud intake of breath and he could see how she shivered slightly while letting it out.

"I'm not a lady," she stated in barely above a whisper, desperately trying to hold her cold, emotionless demeanor, even if she knew she was failing miserably.

The sight of him, the only person she really got close to during all of those years away from home, made her insides clench in a way she'd never think possible. He looked different, yet completely the same. His presence while familiar, felt foreign, and at the same time older, more mature, stronger. His hair was cut too short for her liking, but his eyes still looked exactly the same. Still bore the same warmth and depth.

"You are to me." He stated so simply, so naturally as it was the only thing he was sure of in life and she could feel the glass wall in her heart fall apart into pieces, bringing a definite end to the heartless 'no one' and returning Arya Stark's lively personality completely to the surface again, for the first time in what felt like forever.

She was in his embrace before he could properly blink and she threw her arms around his neck, her feet dangling a few inches above the ground as he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her slightly, burrowing her against his strong chest.

"I thought you were dead Arry. I thought you were dead," he chanted into her ear making her close her eyes and bury her face in his neck as she inhaled the familiar smell of his sweat mixed with the smell she always tied to Winterfell- fur and leather.

He caught Lady Sansa's look over Arya's shoulder. She had not only surprise written all over her face, but also a kind of fondness he wouldn't accuse her of, judging by the proud and cold posture she took as soon as she received them.

"I'm sorry," he stated and Arya jerked slightly in his arms.

"I should stab you in the heart right now, for leaving as you did. I should show you how it feels," she said with what sounded like a muffled sob, making Sansa completely baffled. Until now, she wasn't sure her sister was capable of crying anymore.

"I don't know about that. You are still a scrawny little thing, M'Lady," he replied and she released a wet, but genuine laugh that felt like something as foreign as it was out of this world. It was the only thing she could do. He had no idea. No idea at all.

Apparently even her sister found it amusing, as she could hear Sansa's chuckle join hers and fill the room with laughter for the first time in years.

"So, what do we do?" asked Arya when she rushed after her sister towards Bran's room.

"We wait, we prepare. We fight if we have to." She answered simply, making Arya shiver at the coldness in Sansa's voice. "When do you think they will reach Winterfell?"

"Depending on how far behind Tormund and Gendry they were..." started Arya with a sight. "I'm guessing... a week if they travel slow. From what they were saying, the dead don't seem to be in a rush."

"Let's hope Jon gets here in time. If not, the Stark army will have a Lady as a its head for the first time in history," commented Sansa, her pace fastening and her voice breaking ever so slightly. Arya was sure if she weren't her sister she wouldn't be able to notice.

"You managed being a Lady of Winterfell well enough, I'm sure you'll be a decent head of the army if you have to as well." The younger Lady Stark replied as they reached their brother's room.

Sansa came to a stop and knocked on the door lightly. "I'm not talking about me, I know nothing about fighting." She stated as Bran's empty voice called for them to come in. "I'm talking about you, Lady Arya."

"Seven days? That's all that we have left before we become dead, walking, blue eyed monsters?" asked Sansa with a start as she sat on one of the chairs in front of her brother's fireplace.

"More or less," stated Bran emotionlessly. "I can't tell an exact date," he added. Arya just stood there, her hands behinds her back, in a posture she got so used to after her time in Bravos. She tried really hard not to show them how much she was scared, but she was sure Bran knew anyway.

"Do you think you can plan something in such a short time?" Sansa asked her with hope filled eyes and Arya almost felt like she was obliged to lie to her, only to make her feel better.

"You know I'm not a strategic. I might know how to fight but I've never managed an army." She answered truthfully. "But it doesn't mean that I can't try," she added. "Maybe I got the talent after Father and I don't yet know about it."

"How about your friend? Maybe he could help you?"

"Gendry?" She asked, only now thinking about him again. "I guess he can fight too, but he's more a smithy than a soldier. He would help though. As much as he can," she answered with certainty, making Sansa crave answers even more.

"I will do what I can to protect our family and our people. I would lead the army and fight to the death if I have to. That you can be sure of," assured Arya, "But maybe we should... Maybe we have to consider abandoning the country. Abandoning home," she proposed, sadness filling her voice.

She felt like she was committing treason by only thinking about it. "My heart hurts thinking of giving up Winterfell, but maybe that's the only choice."

"You would leave the people?" Asked Sansa with a note of outrage in her voice and Arya felt a rush of anger surging through her veins.

"I would take the people with me." She replied firmly. "If the white walkers are able to change their victims into one of them, we can't let them build their army anymore. We have to protect everyone, starting with the weakest, ending with the strongest," she reasoned.

"But move a whole country?"

"The Dragon Queen did it multiple times," commented Bran out of the blue. "It's possible." He stated.

"What would Jon do? You've seen how he works." asked Arya more to Sansa then Bran, even if their brother probably saw a lot more.

"Jon is not here," she replied with a sigh, "And as much as I would like to ask him for help, I'm not sure we have a way of doing it right now."

"He should be home soon." Bran commented, making his sisters realise that they didn't even notice his eyes turning white as they discussed the future of Winterfell. He jerked slightly in his wheelchair and his eyes returned to his normal shape and color.

"He's a day, maybe two away." He added calmly.

"I say we wait." Arya stated, looking at her sister challengingly. "If he's not home tomorrow by night, we start preparations." She offered fiddling with her fingers behind her back. Sansa liked to have the final say, but Arya hoped that this time, her sister would agree with her for once in their life.

With a heavy sigh and a quite not-lady-like curse, Sansa Stark nodded.

"Arya," Bran called out as his sisters moved to leave his room. "You could be both," he stated making her completely confused.

"I can be both, what?" She asked curiously, only to meet his blank stare.

"You'll figure it out." He stated without any other explanation and she pushed the door open even more confused than she was before.

"What was that about?" asked Sansa as soon as they were back in the halls.

"How should I know? He's become a complete mystery," replied the younger sister, starting her route towards what was now Gendry's room, hoping he was doing fine after the long, exhausting road.

"Arry?" Started Sansa teasingly, stopping her sister in her tracks and making her scowl at her angrily. She'd never heard anybody call Arya that name. "How do you know King Robert's bastard son?" She asked and Arya shrugged a bit and smirked in response.

"Pretty well," she said simply and Sansa rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You know what I mean. Come on. Nobody talks to me anymore," complained Sansa and Arya chuckled slightly.

"So you say there are cons to being a Lady?" asked Arya with a tease. Sansa ignored her sister's jib.

"So? What's the deal with that Gendry character?" she asked, obviously not letting the topic go.

"He's just... Gendry. We've traveled together for some time," explained Arya simply. "He thought I was a boy for a while and when he realised I'm not... That's when everything started to fall apart." She stated with resignation.

"I see..."

"Not like that." Arya denied quickly. "We were two kids, both having a problem with high borns, except one didn't want to serve them and the other didn't want to be served."

"Isn't that the perfect situation?" asked Sansa, her eyebrows raised high up on her forehead.

"It wasn't then," stated Arya bitterly.

"Well... he is handsome. You should check again. Maybe it is now."

She pressed her hand against his clammy forehead, making him wake up with a start and grab her wrist with panicked expression.

"It's just me," she stated calmly and he let go, guilt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "It's just a habit." She nodded with a half-smile.

"It's a good habit. Keeps you alive," she commented as she put her hand to his chest and pushed him slightly back against the pillows, preventing him from getting up. "You should stay in bed before you get sick. You have frost bites and you're exhausted."

"It's the wrong thing to do in the presence of a Lady." He answered half-jokingly, more to see her reaction than anything. He wasn't disappointed as he saw her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare just like they did when she was only a girl.

"If you're trying to find out if I'm really capable of killing you, I recommend you don't." She said calmly, aware of the fact that he was only trying to get on her nerves.

"That wasn't my intention, M'Lady. I just like seeing that person I recognise from long ago." He stated, making her features soften a bit. "It reminds me of that girl that once promised she could be my family and I was stupid enough to decline." He added, and she perched at the side of his bed and, finding his large hand, enveloped it with her much smaller one.

"I wanted to hate you for your decisions and I wanted to forget about you, but I couldn't. You were just a boy then and I was just a child and no matter how much I wanted us to see things the same way, we had different purposes, different desires," she answered with a sigh. "I don't have a right to judge you for that." She added and he squeezed her hand with gratitude.

"I regretted that decision for years," he confessed shakily, "From the moment they sold me to the Red Witch to the moment I found out you were still alive just a few hours ago."

"It's funny. All those years I fought to be a person who could keep themselves alive," she stated and he swallowed audibly and painfully. She reached for the hot beverage at his bedside table and he took it with gratitude.

"What happened to you Arry?" He asked, looking at her with interest and she shook her head slightly at the question.

"It's a long story. Better to tell you some other time." She stated taking the cup from him and setting it back at its place.

He reached his hand to grab hers again and without a thought, she let him.

"Does that offer still stand, M'Lady?" He asked nervously, and with a start she realised that he treated the 'M'Lady' that she hated so much, more as a term of endearment than acknowledgement of her high born status. In this way, it didn't seem so offensive anymore. She didn't have to ask to know what his question referred to.

"How so if for you, I'm still a Lady?" she asked, teasingly. He shook his head as if to say she didn't understand him a bit.

"You will always be my Lady." He responded, bowing his head slightly even in his bed.

She shook hers at him. "And it doesn't prevent me from being your family anymore?" She asked, just to make sure.

"The decision is yours to make," he answered and brought her hand to his lips kissing it tenderly, "M'Lady."

She shivered. "I think," she started breathlessly, cradling his cheek in her palm, "I think, I could be both."

|AN|: I hope you liked it. Please, let me know in the review section. Love you!