Sansa stayed hidden away for the next two days. Gendry tried to visit, but each time he dropped by, he saw that a guard had taken up a position outside of her door. Each time he came up to ask to see her, the excuses were always the same.
"Lady Sansa is sleeping"
"Lady Sansa is eating."
"Lady Sansa is busy."
Not too busy for Petyr or Sweet Robin, it would seem. Gendry had seen the two of them each visiting her – he had run into Petyr after the first rejection, and had heard Sweet Robin's shrill cry from his room a few more corridors down. He kept his mouth shut, however. That brief run in with Petyr on the first day had been enough. Gendry knew a power play when he saw one, and decided it would be best if Petyr thought he had 'won' this game.
Instead, he headed to the forge to begin working. Once he closed the door behind him, he bent to shuffle through the pile of low quality scrap he had been allotted to use for personal projects. All those fine swords he had been working on for the Vale, and here he was, cutting himself on rusted iron and flaking metals. He had used all the good bits on the rose he had given her nigh a year ago now, and hadn't been able to sneak any away. After he had reached the bottom of his pile, he examined the few pieces he had deemed passable. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he sighed. It seemed unfair he had to make something so important with such shoddy materials. He held up a piece of iron and watched in crumble in his hands.
No. She deserved better.
He looked over at the chest under his work bench, Throwing the flakes down, he twisted his body to face it. He reached out and pulled the leather strap and slowly pulled the trunk out. He sat up on his knees and flipped the buckles up. Slowly, he pushed the lid up until it fell back onto itself, sending a cloud of dust and grime puffing into the air. Carefully he dropped both his hands into the chest and pulled the bull helm out.
He ran his hands over the smooth exterior. He had been so proud of it. Was proud of it. How many years had he been saving up to buy the steel for the horns? How many times had he burned his fingers stealing away warm scraps of fine metal from his master's work bench? He remembered when, at 14, he finally had all the materials to begin to make something that was wholly his.
Gendry shut the lid of the chest and kicked it back under the bench. He turned and pushed himself off against the floor of the forge and stood, making for the anvil in the corver, his right hand grasped around one of the helm's horns.
He laid the helm on the rouch, black surface. Carefully, he eyed how much of the horn needed to hang off the edge. Once he was satisfied, he reached for his hammer.
Turning back to the anvil, he twisted the hammer in his hand, catching it after each small toss. Once he had built up the nerve, he took in a deep breath and brought the hammer down. A loud TINK! Echoed across the forge. He raised the hammer again, and brought it down with more ferocity. TINK! TINK! TINK! TINK! TUNK-!
The tip of the horn bounced against the anvil's edge and fell into the dirt at his feet. Placing his hammer to the side, he bent down and plucked the bit of steel up. He tossed it lightly in his hand, measuring the weight. His estimation was correct. This should be enough.
He pulled himself up and pocket the piece. Avoiding looking at the helm directly, he reached out to grasp the broken horn with one hand and reached to pull the chest out from under the bench. Letting the lid fall back, and her carefully placed the helm back in its place. He sent a consolatory glance down at its uneven horns.
He grasped the bit of metal in his pocket and sighed.
This was more important.
….
Sansa had been held in her room for two days, but she escaped on the second night. Her septa had finally left her to sleep in peace, assuming that a grievously injured noble girl wouldn't be inclined to sneak around. So Sansa had been left on her own after supper had finished, and the guard, who usually left once her septa brought her dinner, had been excused earlier. Now, Sansa lay on her side, watching the sky out her window.
When the moon finally entered into the center of the frame, Sansa threw the furs off of her and swung her legs over the side, grabbing a small blade from her bedside table. gently pressed her injured foot against the stone floor and winced. While it was not as terrible an injury as she had let on, it still pained her to walk on it. Taking in a deep breath, she put weight on the foot, and began to limp slightly to the door.
Quietly she pressed against the wood and peaked her head out. The only torch that was in the corridor had died down considerably, plunging the corridor into darkness. Sansa smiled and slid out of the door, shutting it delicately behind her. She quickly padded down the hallway.
When she stood outside of his door, she paused, listening in the silence for any sign she had been followed. After a few beats had passed, she tightened her grip on the knife's handle and eyed the gap between the door and the stone. When she saw the dark line marking the latch, she smiled to herself and brought the blade just under the iron bar. With a quick flick of her wrist, she flipped the latch onto the opposite side, and slowly pulled the door open.
She shut the door behind her, careful not to make a sound. She replaced the iron latch before turning to consider the sleeping form on the bed. She went to stand at the corner, and fiddled with the knife handle as her eyes trailed down the contours of his sleeping face in the moonlight, the ridiculous position he had fallen asleep in. Sansa smiled to herself, and let the knife clatter to the floor. She braced herself on the wooden bedframe, and began to crawl up to the mattress until she sat by him, looking down on his sleeping face.
"Gendry," she said softly, shaking his shoulder. When he didn't stir, she tried again. "Gen-drrrry," she sing-songed. She saw his face contort in the moonlight, fighting against his waking. Sansa pressed a kiss on his cheek and suddenly his blue eyes opened. He turned to look up at her.
"Sansa?" he asked sleepily. She nodded, and began to run her fingers through his hair. Gendry pushed himself up and looked around.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," she said
He looked over at the door.
"Were you followed?"
"Oh, most assurdedly," she said, one of her hands reaching across him and bracing her weight on his other side. "But I think I lost him when I went to the kitchens." she smiled.
She pressed a kiss on his lips, gentle at first, but just as Gendry thought she was pulling away, he felt her swing a leg over his torso. He felt her hands come up to cup his face and she opened her mouth slightly. Gendry snaked his hands up through her hair, gripping the back of her head to bring her closer. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, Sansa squeaked at his force, but rocked her hips against his to show her approval. Gendry bit her bottom lip, coaxing her to open her mouth. She did, and slid her tongue softly over his lip, testing. Gendry felt her fingers begin to tug at the hem of his shirt, and taking the hint he pulled it over his head and threw it across the room. Discarded, Sansa ran her fingers up his torso, and hooked her finger around the leather strap around his neck. Gendry's hand on her waist relaxed as she trailed her finger along the strap until she felt the charm, warmed by his skin, aginst her fingertips.
"My charm," she smiled. She looked up at him. "You're wearing it?"
Before Gendry could answer, Sansa looked back down at the charm, pinching it between her fingers.
"My Lady Mother gave this to me," she said. "My father had given it to her after I was born," she looked back up at him. "I'm so happy you're wearing it," she beamed at him before clenching her eyes shut, tightening her grip on the charm. He covered her hand with his.
"You don't seem real," she laughed. "I thought for so long, the knights and men of honor were all in songs, and I was so stupid for believing in them. But you…" she trailed off. Gendry squeezed her hand reassurdedly. Before he could say anything, however, Sansa pulled his face down to hers, and pressed against him again. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, inviting him to open up. When he did, she pulled his neck. Gendry dropped his hand from her waist and hooked it under her knee, flipping their positions.
He looked down at the girl below him as he let his hand creep up her thigh, pushing her shift up slowly. Sansa smiled up at him, and pulled his face down to hers, biting his lip before slipping her tongue into his mouth. She bucked her hips up against him, and Gendry felt his pants become uncomfortable tight.
He had thought of their wedding night. Who wouldn't, if their betrothed was her? In his fantasties, on those shameful nights when he couldn't sleep, he imagined in. She would be so proper and timid, he imagined. She would blush as he pushed her shift up, and cover her face in a fit of giggles and embarrassment when he spread her legs. He imagined the two of them coupling gently, careful not to hurt her.
But reality was different. He felt that now, as Sansa pressed against him with equal fervor and began to trail open mouth kisses down his throat. Gendry groaned, and one of his hands shot up to pull her face back up. Immediately, he ducked his head down to bite the soft junction where neck met shoulder. Sansa let out a little gasp, and rolled her hips against his. Gendry sucked at where he had bitten, enjoying the sounds he pulled from her.
Outside, a bark cracked through the air. Both of them froze, pulling away from each other and turning towards the window. After a beat, Sansa laughed from under him, and kissed the wrist he was leaning on. She pushed herself up and Gendry made room for her.
"I should," she gestured to the door. Gendry gave her a sad smile. She reached out an grabbed his hand, bringing the back of his hand to her lips.
"Petyr says we'll be married before spring," she said softly, resting her cheek on his hand. She looked up at him, and he wished more than anything her could fall into her gaze. Gendry reached for his bedside table, pulling a leather strap he had been using as a bookmark from its place between the pages. Carefully, he looped the leather around Sansa's finger, tying the top with a snug knot. She giggled. He tied one of the end around his pinky, and when he had finished, he tugged at their bond playfully. She answered by allowing herself to be pulled to him. She rest her forehead against his, and breathed in the smell of him as his hands found their way onto her waist. She pulled the leather from her fingers and brought her hands up to cup his face again.
"Before the first flower of spring," Gendry reiterated. Sansa nodded and kissed him. Gently, she pulled her leg out from over him, and began to crawl down the bed before turning around.
"In three days time," she said. "there's a full moon. Meet me in the star room?"
He smiled.
"Of course," he said. Sansa's mouth ticked upwards as she turned back to crawl off his bed. She bent down to pick up the knife and sent him a look before she left.
"Three days," she whispered before disappearing behind the closing door. Gendry pushed himself up and went to the door, latching the door once again. Instead of returning to bed, though, he let himself rest against the door.
No.
There was no way he could go back to sleep.
He brought his hand up to his face and pulled the leather tie from his pinky. He held up the perfect loop that Sansa's finger had left into the moonlight.
….
After a few attempts and a lot of cursing, Gendry had finally managed to melt the tip of the horn down. The molten metal glowed in the small pot he had clutched between the pliers, and he held his breath as he poured it into the small mold he had made earlier that morning. Once he had emptied the contents of the small pot, he placed the pinchers back down and made for the anvil. On the top, he had balanced one of the special rocks that the climbing woman – Mya? – had shown him earlier that day. He hadn't believed her when she first told him, but something about her made him trust her. "It's blue, like her eyes." She had winked at him when she placed the rock in his hands. Gendry raised the hammer, hoping the woman wasn't just having her fun with him.
When he brought the hammer down, however, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the CRACK! and see the neat black line separate the sphere into two halves. Carefully, Gendry pulled the two pieces apart and gazed inside. Bright blue crystals danced in the fire light, and Gendry smiled to himself. Carefully, he placed one half on the anvil's surface, and brought the hammer down onto it's back. He continued hammering under he had a sizeable pebble of bright blue crystal. Returning to the mold, he pried it apart and took the small object in a smaller pair of pinchers. In the heat of the fire, he began to obsessively pull at the curves, ensuring no unsightly bulges were marring the smooth surface. When he was finally satisfied, he left it on the edge of the fire, one side still hot from the flame. With great care, he took some of the wire bristles he had found in his chest and began bending them into geometric shapes. Quickly, he pressed the wires onto the hot surface, molding them together. Once they were attached, he placed the blue gem, and a few other flecks of crystal into the surface. When the last piece had been carefully attached, and he had run his fingers over it until his thumb was sore to ensure that all pieces were permanently placed, he held the piece up to the light and smiled. It was then that he realized that he had only liked the bull helm.
He loved this.
…..
Sansa was hiding under her bed, careful not the breathe.
Come on, she thought, her eyes trained on the bottom of her door. Just check in and then go.
Since her bed rest had come to an end, Sansa had noticed more surveillance in her corridor than usual. Whether this meant Petyr knew about her trip to visit Gendry a few nights ago or it was his reaction to her first offence, Sansa couldn't say. What she did know, however, was that Ser Franklin was assigned to her corridor that night.
Ser Franklin was new, and, bless him, trying his best. Sansa had spotted him weeks earlier as he tripped over his words when reporting to Petyr. He was terrified of him, Sansa knew, and luck would have it, he was the one in charge of her that night. If everything went as planned, Ser Franklin would peak in, see the pillowed form she had left under her covers, and then go about his rounds. If he somehow discovered she had escaped, he wouldn't dare tell Petyr, and would instead spend the entire night searching for her. Sansa could slip back in without him noticing or telling on her. It was perfect.
If he would just open the door.
Just as Sansa was about to push herself out to stretch, the door creaked open, and candlelight illuminated the entry to her room. Sansa held her breath as she saw Ser Franklin's foot take a hesitant step into her chambers. Before Sansa could worry that she had left part of her lump uncovered, the candle light dimmed, and she heard the door close. Letting out a small sigh, she crawled out from under the bed and walked quietly over to the door. She pressed her ear to the wood, listening for the faint footsteps that meant Ser Franklin had already made the turn at the end of the hallway. After another pause, the echos died out. Gathering her courage, Sansa pushed the door open, and quickly slid into the dark corridor.
When she made it to the dip in the stome wall, she threw her legs over with ease, determined not to fall on her face like she had previously. She carefully lowered herself down the two meter drops, minding her still bruised ankle. Once she was at the bottom, she scrunched down and crawled her way through the tunnel.
When she appeared at the other end, she saw Gendry laying at the center on his back, fiddling with something in his hands. Sansa stood up, and cleared her throat. His head twisted to look at her, and Sansa was struck suddenly with how beautiful he looked, stretched under the stars, bathed in a soft white light that made his hair dance with silver streaks. He pushed himself up, and flushed pink as she approached, realizing that once again, she was just in her shift.
"Look how beautiful the stars are," she said, gazing up at the heavens. The inky expanse of sky was full of stars, swirling across the landscape. The moon hung fat in the air, casting a soft glow on everything that lay below. Sansa smiled and turned her attention back to Gendry.
"Shall we lay down?" she asked. She reached for his hand, but as she moved to sit, he pulled her back up. Perplexed, Sansa stood up again. Her smile was replaced with concern when she saw how he tried to avoid her gaze.
"Gendry," she said, gently turning him to face her. His eyes met hers, and she let a hand fall onto his cheek. "Is everything alright?"
"I-," he inhaled, and looked up at the stars. Sansa felt something flood in the pit of her stomach. She had been too forward last night. Too romantic and girlish. He was going to tell her he didn't like that. He had changed his mind about her-
He held something up in the light. Sansa was pulled from her anxiety, and considered the object in front of her.
"I know we're going to be married soon," he said. "but…I was thinking about how many times you've been pushed into choosing things. And I guess I just wanted to know this is something you weren't being forced into. Because…you're clever, and fun, and kind, and…everything. I don't ever want you thinking…" he sighed unsure how to continue, but kept his gaze in line with hers. This was too important. He took in a shakey breath. "I know that I'm the son of Robert Baratheon. But I'm not a noble. I'm a blacksmith. And maybe we were never meant to meet. But I…" she reached up an wrapped her fingers daintily around his wrist, refusing to break eye contact. He gathered all the courage he could muster.
"I love you, Sansa. And I wanted to know if you could love me. Not the person they're saying I am, or who I'm going to have to be." He bounced his hand, still clutching the small silver ring. "So, um, I guess…I'm asking if you'd be a blacksmith's wife." He looked at the ring in hand, so convinced it looked pathetic compared to the jewels she must have seen.
"Will you marry me?" he finally asked in a voice that was too confident and steady to be his.
Sansa didn't answer at first. The moment hung between them heavy as fog. Just as Gendry was about to turn, toss the ring, curse himself for being so stupid, Sansa spoke.
"Do you really?" she asked.
Gendry's eyebrows shot up.
"What?"
"Do you love me?" she asked, a small smile threatening to break out on her face. Gendry let out out a barking laugh.
"Yes," he laughed. "Bloody hells, woman, you think I make rings for every girl with a pretty face and propose to them?"
Sansa's covered her face with her hands, her eyes betraying her smile. She closed her eyes.
"This is real?" she asked.
"It's more real than anything I've felt before," he said.
Sansa dropped the hands from her face and beamed up at him. Gendry felt his heart beat against his rib cage. Sansa reached up and wrapped her hand around his, and nodded.
"Me too," she said. She stepped in closer to him, and pulled his mouth down to hers. After the kiss, Sansa broke out giggling. It was infectious.
"You haven't even said anything!" Gendry laughed. Sansa threw her arms around his neck, and Gendry braced himself to catch her weight.
"Yes," she breathed. "I love you too. Yes,"
Gendry let out a laugh of disbelief, and kissed her. He placed his hands on her waist and pushed her away, and took her hand in his. He pushed the ring up past the second knuckle, and let it go limp in his hand. He admired the ring before Sansa pulled her hand up to inspect it.
"You made this?" she said in disbelief. He nodded. Sansa smiled and lowered herself onto the pile of clothes, reaching her newly bejeweled hand up to him. He let her pull him down, and settled against her. Sansa climbed atop of him and rested her chin on his chest looking up at him.
"I will be the wife of the best smith in Westeros," she smiled.
"'Best' is a bit of a stretch-"
"No," Sansa cut him off and held up her ring. "The best."
He smiled down at her.
"Alright," he said, running his fingers through her hair. She smiled, and adjusted herself on top of him. She let her cheek fall against his cheek.
"I'll make lemon pies," she said suddenly. Gendry looked up at her, but her eyes were on the stars. "and sell them at the market."
"Will you?"
"Yes," she sighed. "And you'll run a shop. And we'll have a small house on the edge of town."
Gendry closed his eyes as he indulged in her fantasy. He saw the two of them in front of their small house, in simple worker's clothes. He imagined Sansa with a round belly.
"And children?" he asked impulsively, Without skipping a beat, Sansa answered.
"A girl first," she said.
"And then?"
"Another girl," she smiled.
"Alright," he smiled back.
"Maybe one boy," she said. "Just because you're so devilishly good at seducing me,"
Gendry felt himself tighten under her. She felt it, and laughed.
"Come now, don't you know where babies come from?" she giggled.
"I do," he said, letting his hand fall onto her back. Sansa's big blue eyes turned from the sky and considered him. She roll onto her belly, letting her chin once again sit at the center of his chest. He wondered if she could feel the hardness pressing against his trousers
"So two girls, and then as many boys as you can talk me into," she smiled.
"If last night's anything to go on, it shouldn't be too hard."
Sansa crawled up his length until her face hovered over his.
"No," she smiled. "It shouldn't be," and kissed him.
Y'all my computer deleted the first draft of this so I rewrote it tonight for you. Loveeeeee yall
