"I can't believe you did it," she said, slowly tracing the silhouette of the fresh bull tattoo on his shoulder with her finger.

He was silent, not moving. She didn't stop, just continued to run her finger around the image. The intimacy of the moment not lost on her. They were alone, in the tiny room the Brotherhood had assigned him. He sat on the lone cot and she half kneeled on the bed, half stood leaning over him, continuously tracing the tattoo. All the ointment he had asked her to rub in to it long since absorbed.

But she didn't move. Didn't stop.

"Arya," he sighed, turning slightly to face her.

They were close, so close.

Then they were both touching each other. His hands, her face. Her hands, his neck. At fourteen, Arya wasn't able to quantify what was happening. Only knowing that it had been building for a while. A long while.

And when he leaned in, slightly brushing his lips over hers, she knew it was right. It was the only spark they needed. It was not chaste, it was not gentle.

Their mouths, their tongues colliding, heat and friction. Their hands exploring.

She ended up on her back, having lost her shirt somewhere in the process. He was laying between her thighs, sucking on her collarbone while his hands had slipped down underneath her underwear. Making her moan, pushing up, wanting more. She needed more. But when her hands moved to his pants, to remove them, to get at him, to get more.

He stopped. Removing his hand from her pants to stop her own hand with his, leaning back as he did. Creating space between them, too much space.

Arya groaned, rising to follow him. To bring him back to her.

But he was far away. Too far, too far.

Arya jolted awake, sitting up, the dream disorienting her. Her body hot, flustered looking around, trying to get her bearings. She remembered, she was in a hotel room on the outskirts of King's Landing. She could make out the outline of Gendry's body on the other twin bed in the room, his back to her.

She moaned, falling back on the bed, the ache between her legs so very real. For half a second she thought about waking Gendry, begging him to finish what they started so many years ago. But she didn't.

Instead, settling on taking a shower. She could take care of her own aches.

When she emerged from the bathroom sometime later, feeling considerably more relaxed and less frustrated, she saw Gendry sitting up on his bed, examining his hand-held.

"Ser Ilyn Payne was found dead this morning within his apartments at the Red Keep. The former King's Justice appears to have died of natural causes." Gendry read.

Arya smiled, then laughed. He looked up at her, smiling too.

"You aren't going to tell me what you used?" He asked.

"I could tell you," she said, leaning in conspiratorially, feeling slightly silly for the first time in ages, "But then I would have to kill you."

Gendry smiled at that before getting off the bed, stretching.

"One left," he said, as he disappeared in to the bathroom.

One left. When she had told Gendry of her plans, he had only nodded along, asking the occasional question about logistics, before rising and telling her they better get started. She had been slightly surprised he wanted to come with her; but when she attempted to raise objections he had silenced her, explaining that she would need him and that each member of her family would kill him if he let her out of his sight again.

Gendry knew her family. That was odd for her to comprehend; that he had seen them more recently than she. He had told her about meeting Jon while making trades with the intergalactic defense space station known as the Wall. How Jon had begged Gendry to tell him everything he knew. Jon had been the one to help him initiate trade with Winterfell, after her remaining brothers had reclaimed it. How they too had begged for details of their adventures. He had suggested going to Winterfell first, but she knew she could only return when her list was complete. He had understood, not bringing it up again.

They left that day for Lannisport, using the small transport ship Gendry's crew had assembled for them. Word had spread that the former Queen Cersei was being held at Casterly Rock until the Dragon Queen could deal with her, being preoccupied by the Other's war on the Wall. Arya felt relief that she would get to Cersei first.

Once in Lannisport, they started to put their plan in to action. Arya had briefly considered going the poison route again, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to be there, she wanted to be the one to wield the weapon.

The plan was a simple one. Arya had done her homework, reading ancient manuscripts by hacking in to the Citadel's database. She discovered an underground tunnel that had been abandoned. It led from the rocky coast up to the old dungeons of the great keep. All her intel told her that security had never been updated to include the tunnel system due to cave-ins. She had originally thought that the cave-ins meant the end of that plan, but she found her solution in Gendry. He had modified a laser gun to deconstruct molecules, something Arya didn't even know was possible. When Arya asked him where he had learned to do that, he had scoffed, muttering something about not being as stupid as he looked.

It was a laborious process, one that took longer than they had originally anticipated. The modified laser gun worked well, but it still left debris to be cleared. The climb was steeper than they could have predicted. The path ended in what appeared to be the former warden's office, a long hallway full of cells now used for storage was off to one side, stairs leading up on the other.

Arya collapsed on a bench along the wall, Gendry following to sit next to her. He handed her a protein bar from his pack, while she fished out water from hers. They ate in silence. Arya let the coolness of the stone walls cool her down, letting her head lean back, closing her eyes.

"What happens when you're done?" He asked.

"I don't know. Go home. See my family," she said, not opening her eyes. "I don't know."

"Go find your husband?" He asked.

She opened her eyes then, turning to him. He was studying her.

"I'd forgotten," she confessed, biting her lower lip. She had heard about 'Arya Stark's' marriage to Bolton's bastard while still on Essos. "I suppose I'll have to kill him too. Last I heard he was hiding behind Dreadfort's force fields."

"I was so angry when I heard. After everything, Arya Stark ended up married to a bastard in the end."

But not the right bastard.

She stood up, staring down at him. "I never cared about titles or nobility. It's what a person does with their life, not the position they are born to."

"Aye, you might not care, but the universe does." His voice was bitter.

"Fuck the universe," she said, grabbing her pack. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Then, we kill my husband."