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Most of the Red Keep blazes hot with dragonfire and wildfire.
Gendry shields his eyes, looking up the billowing, black clouds. From a thickened cover of smoke, down the road, a young woman strides towards him.
He jumps off his horse, calling to Arya. At first, Gendry assumes she's injured, due to the limp, but soon realises — every inch of Arya has been drenched with a vibrant crimson blood, from head to foot. Most of it has baked from the intense amount of heat onto Arya's breeches and leathered doublet, caked with bits of carnage and hair, cracking.
"I thought I told you to stay North," she mutters, passing him and frowning in Gendry's direction.
He stares round to her, lips parting, wide-eyed.
"Arya—" Gendry's voice sounds weakened, too-small, "—where are you going?"
"Dunno," she admits. "I didn't expect to make it this far." Arya snatches onto the reins of Gendry's horse and twirls them to her fingers, gauging their resistance. "There may be a ship heading to White Harbor, or across the Narrow Sea, or…"
"I'll make you a knight," Gendry blurts out, coming in closer.
Arya's eyebrows, crusting dark red, quirk. She releases a quiet, snorting laugh.
"What?"
"I can do that now. As a lord. You can be a knight, and when I go back to Storm's End—"
"You're a lord," Arya explains, telling this to Gendry slowly as if he were a child. "Lords don't make knights. Kings do."
"King's blood." Gendry lets out a low, frustrated noise, taking her by the shoulders. "Arya, I don't care," he says hoarsely, "I don't care if you're a lady or not. I don't care about a gods-damned title—I just want to be with you. Wherever it is, whatever it takes."
Robert Baratheon's blood, leeches pulsing with Gendry's blood, Cersei Lannister's blood… all has been shed. In the name of power and revenge. He doesn't want that. Gendry never lived in a castle, or owned horses or servants, or gold. Gold does not compare to the woman in front of him, reeking of death and decay and gods-know what else she found in King's Landing.
Arya studies Gendry's pinched expression, the corners of her mouth lifting.
"You called me beautiful that night—do you remember? You told me you loved me," she whispers. "Is this beautiful to you?"
"Don't be stupid. It's only a little blood," Gendry mumbles, furrowing his brow, wiping off Arya's left cheek with the side of his thumb. Until he can see her lovely, pale skin beneath the smears. He knows what she's trying to do. Scare him off. Convince Gendry that she's not worth any trouble or consideration. More of the hardened, stenching crimson peels off. "Ah, there you are," he says, as if proudly, grinning when Arya does and rubs off her lips. "I see you."
"You're an idiot," Arya tells him, pushing onto her tiptoes when Gendry's mouth roughly presses to hers, licking inside her.
Wherever it is… they'll have each other.
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GoT isn't mine. IF SEASON 8 WON'T GIVE ME WHAT I WANT,,,, THEN I WILL FIX IT. Conner knew I wanted to share something today right after watching Gendrya get slammed with canon angst SO HERE WE ARE. HOW DID YOU LIKE EPISODE 4? DID THIS HELP YOU BE LESS SAD? I HOPE SO.
Also, if you've asked for prompts: I have written everyone's drabbles! Thank you for your utmost patience during the posting process!
((Want a request for GoT? I'm doing 100-500 word drabbles of any ship + any prompt until S8 ends. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a ship and prompt, as well if you want NSFW or SFW. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))