'We'll Join Our Houses'

Unless they were employing child soldiers that Jon didn't know about, he was certain the armor Gendry was slaving over was for Arya. No one else in Winterfell would need a set that small.

If Jon had turned the front piece over, he would have known it was without a doubt meant for Arya. His little sister had used her dagger to carve Gendry's name into the metal that would rest over her heart.

Arya already wore the thick, leather doublet that was so similar to the one that Jon wore. And the one Jon wore was already modeled their father's. Unlike Robb before him, the only piece of metal armor Jon wore was a breast plate. Jon's addition stemmed from a deep-seated desire to never have his heart pierced by a blade again.

"Why am I not surprised that she asked you to make her a breast plate?" Jon asked good-naturedly, offering his bag of candied dried fruits to Gendry. Sansa had made them for him, remembering how much they both loved them when they were children.

As usual, Jon's huge direwolf—Ghost, Arya calls him Ghost—was not far behind him. The beast nearly blended in with the snow as he trailed behind his master, save for those bright red eyes. When Jon stopped walking, Ghost sat down obediently beside him.

"She insists she's going to fight with you," Gendry said. He did not quite meet Jon's eye, though he did accept his offer of the fruit. It melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with a sweetness he had never tasted in the bland foods of Flea Bottom before. It wasn't hard to see why Jon still loved the candied fruit.

"I won't be able to stop her," Jon admitted. "I think you know as well as I do that Arya has a tendency to do as she pleases."

Gendry couldn't argue with that. He had known that since he met 'Arry'. So in response, Gendry only shrugged. Then he nodded, because he decided the shrug wasn't enough of an answer.

"You're right," Gendry said after a long moment, as it seemed Jon was waiting for him to say something. "I just want her to be safe."

The soft way he said it made it evident to Jon that Gendry was being sincere. Which spoke well for Gendry, because Jon had sought him out to get a feel for him in the context of his youngest sister.

Jon was embarrassed to admit that his own head had been so wrapped up with Daenerys that it took Sansa pointing it out that there was something going on between Arya and Gendry. The roll of Sansa's blue eyes when she told him was enough to make Jon feel like a shamed little boy.

Now he was out there doing his 'brotherly duty' as Sansa had called it.

"We can't rely on Bran to do it, after all," Sansa said. "You practically have to pull words out of his throat now that he apparently sees everything."

In an attempt to make himself a little less obvious, Jon had brought with him a list of what he thought they would need out of Gendry's working with the dragon glass. Jon pulled the little scroll from his belt and unfurled it.

"I've talked with the Hound and Sam and a few others who've seen the white walkers," Jon said, holding out the list to Gendry. "This is what we think we'll need out of the dragon glass, but I wanted your opinion, too."

Gendry's eyes darkened. He couldn't seem to make his arm lift to take Jon's scroll. Instead her shook his head, the shame evident on his face.

"I can't read, your Grace," he told Jon. Now it was the King in the North's turn to feel embarrassed. He hadn't considered that, despite their shared bastard parentage, Gendry would have been raised very differently from himself.

The only word Gendry knew was his own name, and that was only because he had seen it so many times while forging Arya's breast plate. Arya had carved the word before Gendry was even half done with the metal, and he had taken great care not to mar it.

"It's just blades for knives and daggers and arrowheads for some of the Free Folk," Jon swallowed against the lump in his throat. "A couple of swords, perhaps, if you've got the time once the dragon glass is mined."

Gendry nodded once again. "That sounds fair to me. A lot of the supply will depend on how much of the dragon glass can be mined in time."

They were working with an unknown timeline. The storm that still raged in the Northern sea was starting to set both Jon and Daenerys on edge. As long as that storm lasted, they were all sitting ducks at Winterfell.

Jon was having a terrible time trying to keep up his guise. He had no idea why he had agreed to seek Gendry out under false pretenses in the first place. This was Sansa's way, learned from Cersei and Littlefinger, not his own.

But he had felt lost, because he liked Gendry. He couldn't just throw Gendry against a wall with his hand at the boy's throat like he had Littlefinger. How did you approach someone you were almost positive you approved of?

So, Jon made the decision to drop it entirely. "I understand from Arya's stories that you've looked out for her before."

Again was that noncommittal shrug. Jon knew Gendry to be more confident than that, but perhaps if either of Daenerys' brothers still lived, he would feel the same under their gaze.

"We did what we could to survive, me, Arya, and Hot Pie." Gendry glanced down at his calloused hands. "I left her, though. I'm sure she's told you that. I wish I hadn't."

The remorse shone through on Gendry's face.

"She did alright for herself," Jon said, excusing away his regret. "Just don't leave her again."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm a bastard?" Gendry asked. Being a bastard was not the worst thing, he knew, but being an unacknowledged one certainly didn't do you any favors. His words made Jon chuckle.

"And I'm not a bastard? Being named a king doesn't change the fact that my last name is Snow."

"At least you have a last name," Gendry pointed out. "I've always been just Gendry."

"Now you're the last living soul from House Baratheon," Jon pointed out. "There's nobody in this world who can argue with you on that. Once this war is ended and Cersei's reign is through, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't use that name."

Jon watched Gendry's eyebrows shoot up. He figured the boy never expected he might one day be given legitimization. Honestly, Jon couldn't help the smirk from spreading across his lips.

"Why wouldn't you legitimize yourself, then?" Jon shook his head.

"I've already got a name. Snow suits me just fine. Take it or leave it, your chance at a name. It won't make any difference to Arya, and you know that. But I thought it might make a difference for someone who's never had a name."

Gendry smiled ruefully. Later in the day, when he was helping Arya try on the finished breast plate, he recounted the talk with Jon.

She laughed at his words as he slipped the breast plate over her head. Once her face appeared from the metal, Gendry was greeted with her bright eyes and flushed cheeks.

"What's so funny?" He asked, tightening the bands on her shoulders. This brought his face very close to her own, and Arya took the opportunity to kiss his cheek. Gendry was definitely more forthcoming with affection; after so long living her life as kill or be killed, Arya was having a hard time letting herself be soft and loving.

"Jon offered you the Baratheon name to make Sansa shut up," Arya said. She was certain she was right. Gendry had no surname to offer Arya, and she knew that would eat at Sansa and her need for grand airs.

"Then maybe I won't take it," Gendry teased. His attention was divided between Arya and the armor he had dressed her in. He spanned his hands over her waist, making sure the metal fit flush together.

Though his hands didn't actually touch her, Arya somehow felt the heat through the armor as if he had indeed touched her bare skin. He was not intending to be sensual; his blacksmith was definitely showing as he took her hand and spun her around to check the fit from all angles.

"How do you like your armor?" He asked, turning her toward the mirror in her chamber. Gendry had styled it after Lady Brienne's armor, the only female armor he had ever seen. At Arya's request, Gendry had embossed the front in a similar fashion that Jon's was. However, where Jon's showed the Stark sigil, Arya's showed winter roses after her aunt Lyanna Stark.

"It'll do," Arya teased after looking herself over in the mirror. "It will be like you're with me when I wear it, since your hands made it."

Gendry smiled softly at the girl before him. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth, so deeply that Arya forgot how to breath somewhere towards the end of it.