"Stay with me." Gendry whispered searching her face. She looked back at her uncle and he nodded urging her back towards him. She swallowed nervously. She didn't know if she could take anymore. She almost walked out already from the feelings she was having. His hand was clammy and cold which was strange, but what was even more bizarre to her was that he was holding her hand in the first place. It must be his fever messing with his head.

She stepped closer and nodded. His face relaxed with relief and his eyes slid closed. She could see red on the inside of his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. Maester Vyman was standing on the other side of him with a bowl in his hand. She could see a black mound moving, slithering. Her stomach still caused a raucous and the blood-suckers were not helping.

She looked back at Gendry, his eyebrows worrying at his closed eyes. "Can't you give him some dream wine or milk of the poppy and do this when he goes to sleep?" Arya asked the maester worriedly.

"I would have done that already my lady, but I have already given him too much. I'm afraid if he falls asleep now-," he stopped and glanced away. She knew what he was going to say.

"Let's get this over with." She mumbled staring at the leeches. He nodded and took the tweezers from the table next to him and picked one from the pile. It curled and uncurled frantically until he placed it onto Gendry's stomach. His skin tightened as he tensed against the writhing leech. It was like he stopped breathing.

Unsure of how to comfort him, she said, "Gendry, you have to relax." For the first time since he held her hand, she responded by squeezing his fingers. It was like he was made of stone and she broke him apart with the slight touch. His body visibly sunk deeper into the mattress and his face mirrored someone in a deep slumber. She felt herself begin to panic at the thought of him sleeping, the maester's words reiterating their importance. "Gendry, are you awake?" she said, with no response. Taking in a deep breath, she repeated, "Gendry?"

The maester looked at him with matched concern until Gendry nodded slowly, "I'm here, Arya."

She let the air out that she was holding and said, "Well don't go to sleep, okay?"

He smiled weakly. She wondered what was making him so calm. There were four men in here holding him down when they attempted to put leeches on him then. He's being so strange.

Maester Vyman continued to place leeches on Gendry's middle and he continued to leave his eyes closed. She didn't know what to do. She sighed in exasperation. She felt helpless just standing next to him holding his hand. What was that doing? Nothing. If there was someone that did this, then she would kill them but there was no one. Just sickness. She looked around for something, anything to ease her restlessness. Instead, she settled on Gendry's face.

His eye lids were almost blue with the veins that pressed through. He was so pale, even his lips. They were cracked and chapped with small lines of red where the skin was broken and bloody. She thought for sure if someone touched them they would crumble like one of the ancient Stark statues hidden deep in the crypts of Winterfell. Gendry risked his health to retrieve her antidote and now she stood there watching helplessly; no instant cure and no miracle remedy to fetch in return. Just another person she was forced to stand by and watch suffer and die. This was the exact reason for not making attachments. Her pain was ceaseless even after they had long gone to join the release of death. They were free of worry and guilt, but she never would be.

Her mind refocused on the room. She hadn't realized she was staring until she felt her body swaying. The maester noticed and looked at her nervously.

"Mayhaps you should have a seat, my lady?" He set the bowl on the table and shuffled around the bed and pulled a chair from the wall. "Please, you aren't recovered yet." She stared at him and realized the room was slightly spinning. Sitting would be better than waking up on the floor. She pulled her hand from Gendry's and pulled the chair up to the cot. She didn't understand the instinct that overcame her to place her hand back where it was before. Her fingers slid back into place beneath Gendry's. It startled her when he tightened his grip. She looked to his face and found his eyes open and his dry lips stretched to a small smile.

She didn't see the maester return to his spot beside Gendry until he spoke, "I think this will do for now. We need to let them finish their work." He looked to Arya and added, "My lady, you must get more rest if you want to get back your strength."

She nodded impatiently, "I know. I will resign to bed soon. I'm fine for now."

He bowed and excused himself to retreat to his desk. She rolled her eyes and without much resistance, found herself looking back at Gendry. He was looking at her with a pained expression. This was a different look than before. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He swallowed dryly and rasped, "You should go rest." The sound of his voice almost made her cringe. It wasn't Gendry's deep, confident tone. It was rough and withdrawn. Almost that he was shy of her.

"I just said I'm fine. I can stay for a while longer." He nodded meagerly and looked down at his middle and then quickly closed his eyes. She thought his face got paler; if that was even possible. She had almost forgotten about the leeches until she saw them bulge and writhe on his skin. There were at least ten and five spotting his white skin. It reminded her of blood drops in snow.

She wasn't sure how she could make him feel better and she was tired of sitting uselessly. When she was younger and was ill in Winterfell, her mother would reminisce her youth and meeting her father. Without hesitation, her mouth opened, "In Winterfell, Old Nan would tell us stories," she paused and glanced at him, "my favorite were the ones about what was beyond the Wall."

He opened his eyes and watched her. Before she could go on he said, "Will you tell me one?" He shifted on the bed and turned his head toward her. His dark hair lay soaked with sweat against his forehead and his feverish eyes bore into hers. She felt his fingers moving under her own. For some reason it made her want to move closer.

"Sure, I'll tell you about the ice dragon." He smiled faintly and she added, "You aren't going to get scared are you?" She grinned and he coughed out a small chuckle.

"Shut up and tell me the story or I'll fall asleep." He teased back. She laughed and started talking about the ice dragon. She told him how if you got breathed on by one, you would instantly freeze. The stories Old Nan told her just tumbled from her mind like she heard them yesterday. It was strange to think about how long ago it was. Just six years ago, she and her brothers were gathered around Old Nan listening to all of her mysterious tales.

As she spoke more about the ice dragon and its crystal blue scales and icy serpentine body, Gendry continued to look into her eyes. His color began to mirror her imaginary ice dragon. Its long, thin body curled in a circle around the black egg of his pupil. His eyes weren't his normal vibrant blue like what a real, fierce ice dragon would be colored, but a stormy, dark grey like an ice dragon that was exposed to too much heat. The original crystal that radiated from its scales became dull and fogged with moisture. Gendry's eyes were similar. They were dark and glassy, far from his usual bright and vigorous gaze. His strong eyes were what Arya liked most about Gendry. But now that vibrancy was being smothered and taken from her.

"There is a constellation in the form of the ice dragon. Its blue-."

"-eyes point North." Gendry interrupted, whispering. His whole body shivered, his face looked completely wasted of all energy. His jaw hung slack and the skin on his face seemed to just barely cling to the bone underneath. She knew he was really sick but now it seemed that he was finally letting the pain show on the outside.

"Maester, can the leeches come off now?" she called over to the old man. She knew if the leeches were gone Gendry would rest easier.

Maester Vyman walked over, "Ah, yes. It is about time to take these off." He reached for his bowl and looked at Gendry, "This may hurt a little, son." He slowly reached forward and pinched the head of one leech to release the suction from Gendry's skin.

He didn't seem to react. His remained tilted her way, eyes staring downward to their hands.

"Here, let me help." She offered anxiously. She wanted to get them off as soon as possible. Lord Bolton once had her do the same when she was at Harrenhal. She stood and released Gendry's hand. As soon as she let go, his hand laid palm up, his fingers curled loosely open, left the way they were when he was holding her hand. His eyes stayed locked where their hands were a moment ago. It made her nervous to not see him respond to anything and just lay limp.

She quickly removed the writhing, fat black parasites from his pale skin. He was whiter than before the leeches. It was like they sucked the very last drops of blood from his body. They pulled the last ones off, leaving blood leaking from the small gaping holes. It looked like he had been stabbed over and over with the blade Jon gave her, Needle. She still had Needle but didn't use it because she had grown out of it. It made her uneasy to think the red gouges in Gendry looked like Needle's doing. The Maester used a rag to dab at the bloody hollows.

When he finished he took her elbow and steered her away. "My lady, you need rest," he held up his hand expecting her angry reply, "as does he. I am going to give him dream wine."

Her chest swelled with relief, "So he will be okay?"

Maester Vyman looked at her with pitiful, grey eyes. "I don't know. The leeches removed some infected blood but I am not sure if it was enough. Not yet." He paused and studied her worried face, "He needs to sleep to improve but if he sleeps I cannot guarantee he will wake up. I have done what I can. He is in the gods' hands now." He patted her arm and walked to his table. She followed him because she didn't believe that Gendry might not live. He talked to her and didn't look like a man that could die.

"Wait. Are you sure? I know he's sick but he doesn't seem that bad…"

"He has been on the road for several days without sleep or any kind of rest. I'm impressed with his strength but he has been continuing on with his adrenaline alone. Haven't you noticed he's beginning to become weaker as he gets more relaxed? His health is finally catching up with him." He poured the dark red liquid into a deep goblet. The darkness of the room made the cup look like an unending pit. "Lady Arya, he is getting weaker. Sleep is his only savior."

She followed him back to where Gendry laid. He was still staring with his eyes half open at his hand. She walked to where she had been before and touched his hand. She wanted him so badly to react and not be so vacant. His fingers moved softly to her touch but his eyes stayed frozen in an impassive look. She would have thought he was dead if not for his fingers' slight movement.

Maester Vyman pressed his palm against Gendry's forehead and his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. He shook his head and moved his hand to the side of Gendry's face and leaned it so he was ready to take the wine. He raised the goblet to Gendry's lips and she felt something stir inside of her.

"Wait." She said quickly, "I need to tell him something before he goes to sleep." The maester nodded and stepped back. She wasn't sure if he would wake up again and she needed to tell him she was sorry. Everything that happened made her feel that she was responsible for his potential demise.

She gripped his hand tighter and opened her mouth ready to tell him everything she was thinking. Suddenly she felt butterflies filling her stomach causing her to hesitate. Instead she whispered, "Gendry." She didn't know what to expect but he moved his head and opened his eyes wider. They looked blank and darker than before. "I…" she stopped because her stomach was overwhelming her and she decided that her own sickness was just making her feel silly. I'm so stupid. Why would he care? It wouldn't bring him happiness.

"Just wake up. Okay?" He managed to tense his mouth and force a small smile. The color of his eyes changed at her words. They were even darker, but not duller. There was recognition and realization in the depths of his eyes. He knew he might not wake up.

The maester reappeared beside him with the goblet. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes from the sadness in his. Gendry's hand trembled in hers and she took it in both of her hands to possibly steady it. Her mind was returning to the state it was before; when his racking coughs were consuming his body and she believed his fate would become similar to her family's.

The goblet glinted in the limited light as it was tipped against Gendry's dry, broken lips. The desperate gaze was extinguished momentarily as he closed his eyes and he received the dream wine. She watched his adam's apple work to swallow the liquid. The goblet was removed and she searched his face, hoping for one last glimpse of his eyes, just once more before he fell asleep. But instead she saw a tear escape and run down his cheek as if it was fleeing from his sorrow. His hands' tremors spread to the rest of his body. His eyes snapped open suddenly with complete dismay filling them, startling her with a gasp.

"Wait, I don't-" he breathed, panicked.

She spoke breathless, startled, "Gendry, it's okay. You're going to be fine." He was shaking his head and more tears spilled, soaking his pale skin. The maester looked upon him, forlorn. He turned and walked away, shoulders slumped. She watched him leave in disbelief. She didn't think he was trying hard enough to make Gendry better.

His breath was slowing and his eyes drooping. He continued to mouth words through his wheezing. His eyes were pleading with her like he was trying to tell her something. She still held his hand with both of hers, trying to calm him.

"Gendry, don't be afraid. You'll wake -," she stopped as he had pulled her hand to his slowly, heaving chest. His action brought her closer to him, the stench of stale blood and blatant fear caressed her nose.

"I don't-," he whispered, breathing a puff of air that smelled and tasted like desperation over Arya's mouth, "I don't want this-," he mumbled. She could feel the tears in her eyes and tried pushing them away. Why do I feel afraid? Fear cuts deeper than swords. His eyes were falling and she could only see a glimmer of blue just through his wet eye lashes.

"Don't be afraid, you won't die." She murmured, convincing more herself than him. She assumed he was trying to say that he didn't want to die or that he was afraid to die. That was normal but it wasn't something she was afraid of happening to herself. However, now it seemed she was afraid of him dying. She had killed men for the many faced god but this was different. It was Gendry, someone she knew. Valar Morghulis. All men must die. She tried to convince herself that the same phrase applied to this, but she couldn't do it. The phrase cut deep into the empty hole in her chest, ripping it through and through.

His hand had gone completely limp and his eyes nearly closed. He continued to breathe, "I don't want this…" but never finishing. Finally, he sighed one last word before allowing his eyes to succumb to the influence of the wine.

"Arya." His mouth hung slack with the last vowel released. She couldn't move. Her body wanted to linger over him and let the sound of her name sink into it. The nearness of him would have made her uncomfortable but she felt like she was protecting him, defending him, guarding him. She felt like a wolf standing over an injured pack member.

Before she stumbled from the room and into the coolness of the hallway, she silently promised Gendry she would return every day until he woke. She wouldn't let her lonely curse consume him. Not today.