Author's note

I know that I'm probably making the characters a little (a lot) out of character, sorry about that. Credit to George RR for creating the characters, and credit to lkgwennire for suggesting a Gendry's point of view (also, sorry for misspelling your name).

"Arya."

"For gods' sake, Gendry, don't stop."

"Arya," he warned.

She cut him off with a kiss, digging her nails into his back. Few moments later, her world shattered into million pieces, and she pulled him closer, pulling him over the edge, never letting go.

Bang.

The sound echoed in his ears.

Bang.

He came to the forge to try to keep his mind off of Arya. It's been like this for two months after Arya left. After two months, he couldn't bear it anymore. He thought of a plan. Then, he had to persuade a few people. One or two had their doubts, but after he persuaded (and by persuaded I mean threatened) them, they were ready to co-operate. And with that, a letter was ready to be dispatched.

That was a week ago.

No word from Winterfell yet.

He swung the hammer again.

"Don't you think you should slow down with that thing?" Jensen walked in and went over to the bench, avoiding Gendry and his hammer in a wide circle.

"Don't you have some other place to be?" Annoyance was clear in Gendry's voice.

"No, I enjoy being in a smelly, steamy forge with a cranky guy who hadn't got laid in three months." Jensen rolled his eyes, "I'm actually here to deliver you a message."

Gendry's eyebrows rose in expectation. "Yes?"

"Your uncle wanted to see you, like, an hour ago."

"Come again?" Arya blinked.

"I'm not making you do anything," Bran looked apologetic, "I just want you to meet him and then you can refuse him. I already sent a raven..."

"You said Lord Baratheon?" Maybe she misheard, "Lord Gendry Baratheon?"

Bran seemed confused about her tone, "Yes. You must be wondering, I know. He's not Stannis' son...

"Do tell," she felt dizzy. Maybe they're talking about some different Gendry.

"He's actually a natural child..."

"A bastard, you mean. He's a bastard. A huge one, too."

"Arya!" Sansa jumped in, horrified look on her face, "That is no way for a lady to speak!"

"...a natural child of late King Robert. Stannis acknowledged him and gave him Storm's End." Bran finished miserably, looking from one glaring sister to another. He didn't look very lordly at the moment.

Arya was still dumbfounded from disbelief. Yes, they must be talking about some other Gendry who bore strong resemblance to King Robert's hair, eyes and love for hammers. That must be it. That's a good, reasonable explanation.

"Arya," Bran called, his voice weary, "What's the matter?"

She didn't answer. She was afraid that, if she opened her mouth, the white, boiling rage she felt would spill out. Then she'd have to explain everything to her brother and sister. At least Rickon was chasing some horses in the yard so she wouldn't have to deal with him too.

"Arya, just meet him. It would be utterly embarrassing if I..."

"Oh, don't worry," she smiled sweetly at him, "I'll meet him."

My fist will meet his nose, I mean.

"Arya, get dressed. They're here and you're late."

She was sitting on her bed in a simple shirt and pair of breeches, polishing Needle.

"Arya, please, what am I supposed to tell Bran and Sansa?" Rickon looked at her with those big, pleading eyes of his and she sighed.

"Is Lord Baratheon here?"

He shot her an are-you-serious look. "Of course he is, he's the one who wants to marry you, remember?"

"Not that one, silly. I mean Stannis, is Stannis here?"

"Oh. No, he excused himself. Said that he had to head back to Dragonstone."

"Good. Tell them I'll be down in an half an hour or so." She calmly replied.

"Aryaaaa," Rickon whined, "They are going to kill me."

"Has anyone told you how annoying you are?"

"Yes, now come on," He beamed, realizing that he managed to get the job successfully done. "Wait, you're going in those clothes?"

"Is there something wrong with them?" she said, daring him to answer positively.

"No, not at all," He quickly smiled.

They descended and the first thing that welcomed her was a disapproving gasp from Sansa. She paid her no mind and her eyes travelled to the man who was casually chatting with Bran. He turned when Rickon announced her arrival."

That son of a bitch smiled at her.

She strode over to them. She had a few moments to decide what to do-punch him or slap him. She didn't want to break his nose, though. Would be a pity to ruin a pretty face.

That settles it, she thought and went for the second option. There was a loud smack when her palm connected with his cheek. Some of his party sniggered, led by the example of Jensen, Misha and Thomas. Bran froze, Sansa looked like she was about to cry and/or faint, and Rickon was stuffing his mouth with lemoncakes, watching the scene with wide eyes.

"You. With me. Now," A poke to his chest followed her every word. She almost dragged him out of the hall.

"What were you thinking?!" she yelled when they were out of anyone's earshot, in the godswood.

He raised his finger and opened his mouth as if to say something.

"But no, you weren't thinking!" she punched his shoulder; "Do you even know how to use your brain? Gods, Storm's End will fall apart if you rule there."

"I already do."

"Shut up!" she punched the poor shoulder again.

"If you keep punching me in the same place over and over, it might even start to hurt."

She screamed. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, you could've told me you're a lord? Do you know how much I've worried over that? About what would happen if we were caught? When in fact, there was no need to worry; I was a lord's whore."

"You're not a whore, Arya."

"I jumped into the bed with the first familiar man I saw after five years."

"Well," he thought about that for a moment, "Is there someone else you wanted to do it with?"

She sighed.

Oh, a good sign, he thought. Means that she's probably done with the yelling part now.

"You should've told me, that's all," she walked over to the lake and kicked a cobblestone.

"I...I wanted..." he looked up into the entwined branches and let out a breath, "I wanted to see if you still cared for me. Without the fancy titles and a castle. If you cared for the real me."

"You really are that stupid," she laughed and turned back towards him, "I cared for you five years ago, when you were nothing. You know I'm stubborn, I don't change my mind about someone that easily." She stood on her tiptoes to plant a light kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Gendry."

"I love you too, Arya," he pulled her into another kiss.

Behind them, it looked like the heart-tree smiled.

For the sake of the story, pretend it's possible or at least point out what's wrong and what should I do to make it better, there is no point in sarcastic reviews.