Basically thought of and written over the course of 2 days. Forgive any errors, they're all mine.
This is my first Gendrya fic, so I hope I do them justice and you enjoy :)
It was a bone-chilling cold that had settled over the lands beyond the Wall. The wind crackled and howled through the trees, swirling up clouds of snow beneath a clear night sky. Ice formed on one's breath as soon as it was expelled, building up one's beard as well as on the furs covering the neck. Fingers and toes panged with pain as the damp cold seeped through fur-lined boots and into skin. If not for fire, one would surely perish by the unyielding harshness of winter.
The unlikely band of men huddled around the fire they had built to rest for the night. Tomorrow they would set out to capture a wight, but for now they shared the meat of a roasted rabbit amongst them as they laughed and told stories of their past.
The Hound, though skittish around the flames, tore into his rabbit leg with grateful ferocity. He was first to bring up the Stark girl. "So, Jon Snow," he said in a mocking tone, "did that little runt of a sister of yours ever make it back North?"
"Who? Arya?" questioned Jon, pausing mid-chew.
To the mention of that name, the young blacksmith perked an ear.
"Yeah, the spiteful one," affirmed the Hound.
"Apparently so. I received a raven from Sansa while at Dragonstone claiming that she had finally made a safe return," announced the King in the North with pride.
The Hound chuckled in spite of himself.
"Why?" asked Jon.
"You mean that little rug-rat managed to stay alive?" interjected Thoros.
"What?" blurted Jon, turning to face him.
"She was quite the little devil," added Lord Beric.
"You knew my sister too?" said Jon with a puzzled look.
"Aye," answered Thoros. "She tried to take on our men singlehandedly."
Jon shook his head in confusion, but understood an act like that was most certainly something Arya would have done.
"She stood her ground, threatening to kill each one of us. A lot of talk that little one was. In fact, she was trying to protect some fat boy and that bastard seated across from you," continued Thoros, pointing at Gendry.
Gendry swallowed hard as all eyes turned to him. Jon looked even more perplexed than before. "You too?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, your grace," replied Gendry. "Arya and I had been recruited for the Night's Watch; she of course disguised as a boy. The Lannisters wanted my head and Yoren died protecting us, however we ended up being taken prisoner at Harrenhal until we escaped and ran into the Brothers, your grace." Gendry said, nodding towards Thoros and Lord Beric. "I haven't heard word of Arya since I was sold to Melisandre. I'm relieved she has found her way back home."
There was a chorus of hums in agreeance around the fire. Then Jon spoke up to ask: "She disguised herself as a boy? How did you know who she was?"
"I figured out that she was a girl on my own, but I had no idea who she was. She trusted me enough to tell of her true lineage and I was ashamed for my casual nature around one of such a high-born family. I called her m'lady and she turned angry, pushing me to the ground in a fit of disgust." Gendry smiled at the telling of this fond memory.
"Sounds just like Arya," Jon smiled in return. "She's never been one for fancy dresses or titles. Once she made Lady Catelyn furious by shooting an arrow straight past our younger brother's head. She hit the target dead on, but ended up confined to her quarters for a week. Arya protested that she wouldn't have missed, that she was too good a shot to ever miss. She only wished to show Bran the proper way to shoot a bow, never kill him. The only thing her grievances resulted in was making her mother impossibly more angry." The King laughed and the Hound snorted. Thoros and Ser Beric, grinned widely while Tormund and Ser Jorah chuckled at the nonsense of the young girl. Gendry too couldn't help a smile from spreading across his face, the anecdote painting a perfect picture of the girl he had left behind.
The Hound quickly spoke up, a piece of rabbit flying from his mouth only to sizzle in the fire. "That's nothing," he proclaimed. "When we travelled together, she was pure hell. One night we had stopped to camp under the stars. We had a small bag of silver and some weapons and a few loaves of bread. A thief had come by to raid us but I only found out after being awoken by a loud shriek from the man. The little rat had that Needle of hers pinned to his jugular with his arse backed against a tree. She was cursing at him and threatening to end him right there if he didn't drop our supplies. I was scrambling to reach them, but she was too fucking fast. The bastard shoved his loot back at us and fucking shit his pants!" recalled the Hound through broken laughter. "I tell you, I've never seen a man run so fucking fast in my life, let alone from the threats of a little girl!"
The story had the rest of the men in stitches. Jon's cheeks were rosy as he sat back and snickered. Tormund, despite never having met the Stark girl, erupted in a deep belly laugh that made his fiery red beard bob up and down. Ser Jorah neither was immune to the tale of such a fierce girl. And though Arya had threatened to kill them on many occasions, Lord Beric and Thoros both took a moment to laugh along with their comrades over the likes of Arya Stark.
But it was Gendry whose reaction was least obnoxious. The way the Hound had described Arya to them had awoke the fondness he had for her. They had endured so much together, yet somehow could still manage to make one another smile. She had trusted in him and he in her and it was a feeling Gendry missed terribly. Hearing the news that she had made it – she had survived even after all this time, filled him with such joy and relief. He truly missed her.
And so, as laughter filled the air around them, Gendry could only smile. He turned his head from the fire to his boots, replaying the memories in his mind before he muttered to himself, "Gods, I love her."
~*~
His heart began to pump faster with each footfall that drew them nearer to the gates of Winterfell. She would be there and he would see her again…after all these years.
Gendry was tucked in the middle of their little travelling caravan, the King in the North leading the way home. When the great spans of Winterfell's walls finally stared him down, he reveled in its cold, stony beauty. Snow peaked its trellises while blue-black smoke rose up like a breath from within. The Stark banners flew proudly through the icy wind.
With a holler from Jon Snow, the large wooden gates swung open revealing the belly of the great fortress. Within, Gendry could see men ducking in and out of massive stone arches, shuttling food and supplies to where they needed to go. Stable boys were guiding around unbroken fillies and colts, struggling to train them for the impending winter. A tall redhead clad in fine fabrics, cloaks and furs stood on tall steps, smiling at her half-brother's safe return. And in the right-most corner of the courtyard sounded the song of kissing steel. A tall, broad woman in lavish armour was pitted against the tiny form of another nimble woman. The small one's brown hair was slicked into a half-ponytail and she moved with lightening speed. Just as she was about to deliver her winning move, the tall woman stopped suddenly, straightened and lowered her weapon to her side. The younger woman stilled mid-swing, bewildered until she followed the line of sight of her sparring partner. She turned fast on her heels, heavy breaths halting as her face washed over with relief and joy. She dropped her thin sword and in the blink of an eye she was rushing towards the gates.
It was her, Gendry realized. She was there, alive and more than well. She had grown, no longer looking like the little girl dressed as a boy. She was now a woman and even more fierce a warrior than when they had last seen one another.
The King in the North dropped his packsacks, immediately opening his arms to embrace her. She jumped up, wrapping hers around his neck and closing her eyes tightly, as if fearful that he could slip away from her once again. He embraced her lovingly, gently swaying her to and fro. Jon must have whispered something in her ear, for she smiled against him.
Then she opened her eyes and saw him over the shoulder of the King. Their gazes locked and her demeanor immediately changed. Genry's heart now thundered in his chest. He shouldn't have been watching the two siblings share such an intimate moment, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the one person he had missed so dearly.
Jon sensed a change in his sister and withdrew from their embrace with concern. Arya's grey-blue eyes never left Genry's as her brother spoke to her.
Every emotion was coursing through Gendry. Relief, joy, fear, and something that made his stomach lurch, urging one foot forward involuntarily. Arya shifted slowly, moving around her brother with a gate as agile as a cat. He could almost make out his name, silent on her lips as she began to approach him. She looked unsure and Gendry's pulse throbbed not knowing what to expect. Her face yielded nothing but disbelief, for the last time she saw him she was certain the Red Witch was going to end his life. He felt ashamed for his ignorance. He wished he had listened to her, wished he had not chosen the Brothers over her. He knew his choice had wounded her, especially after all they had been through and, with every swing he used to shape steel over the years, a little bit of this regret fueled the blows.
Arya continued to close the distance between them, her feet softly padding the powdery snow. At last, she was before him, gazing up into his eyes with an expressionless face. He wanted to tell her so many things but simply did not know how. Instead all he managed was "I'm sorry."
"Shut up!" she spat, furrowing her brow. And then she threw her arms around his middle. She squeezed him fiercely, and he responded in kind, enveloping her in a tight hug and resting his head upon hers. A warmth overtook him, rising from his toes to his cheeks. For the first time he felt at ease; like he had finally found home. They stood like that for a moment longer, uncaring of the many eyes that had fallen upon them.
Finally, they pulled away from each other smiling as their touch lingered. Suddenly and before he had a chance to respond, Arya's eyes narrowed, her lips crammed together and her nose scrunched as she threw her fist into his stomach. Gendry doubled with a loud ummphh, and looked back to her seeking an explanation. "That's for leaving me," she proclaimed, crossing her arms.
"Aye. I suppose I do deserve that," he conceded.
"Consider yourself lucky! I am capable of far worse!" Her threat was more playful than spiteful as she tried to hide the grin forming upon her lips.
Gendry chucked. "Same old Arya, as fearless and as vengeful as ever," he smiled.
She no longer hid her grin. "I'm glad to have you back."
"As am I, M'lady." Arya's eyes widened and she raised her fist threateningly. Gendry laughed as he flinched to protect his stomach.
...
While I've read a lot of great fics featuring Gendry and Arya's reunion, in my mind I don't think the first thing she'd do is sock him. She's mad at him for leaving, but he was her family and security in a time when nothing for her was certain. I don't think Arya would have forgotten that, and as angry as she was at him, she still cared. So this reunion was probably a little more sentimental for both parties than what others might have written. I hope you enjoyed it none-the-less3