Chapter 7

Dust clouded the hot air as she set the chest down with a low thud. Wiping her hands on her thin breeches, Arya looked back over her shoulder at the keep. Their ship was to set sail tonight, and the small dock was steadily filling up with crates and barrels of all sizes. The chest by her feet contained more of her…personal possessions, and Arya had dismissed every serving boy who offered to drag it down in her stead. Holding out her hand to block the blazing sun, she could make out a figure running towards her from the keep.

"Oye! I've already told the lot of you that I don't need help!," she warned, blinking. Stepping out of the sun, she lowered her hand. He stopped abruptly in front of her, breathing hard. "Gendry."

He took a few deep breaths, hands on his knees, before speaking. "I—I wanted to see you. Before you left." Gendry now straightened to his full height, half a head taller than herself.

Arya crossed her arms, looking up. Even with the brightness clouding her vision, she could make out a glaring streak of dirt from cheek to jaw. "I'm not leaving till tonight."

"You and I both know I wouldn't be allowed down, m'lady…I wanted to see you again." Gendry stepped closer, prompting Arya to take a step back as she looked away. The cold stones of the keep now brushed against her back.

"Why are you acting like this? You never cared this much before," she countered. Arya avoided his eyes, focusing on the grime clinging to his face.

He knotted his eyebrows. "You mean during the war? Of course I cared about you…just in a different way is all. You were a child then…and now—"

"Now what?" she demanded, meeting his eyes. "Dammit, Gendry!" she yelled, not caring if anyone saw. "Tell me then. What am I supposed to be now?" The last part was hissed out, her nostrils flaring.

Gendry studied her. After a long pause, Arya's chest still heaving, he reached down, running a hand through her loose hair. "I haven't a clue."

The air, suddenly charged with electricity, seemed to freeze around them. Arya rose up to her tiptoes, and without thinking, kissed the dirt right below his ear. Gendry tensed beneath her, but did not pull away. Arya trailed her kisses down, following the streak until they ended at the tip of his jaw. As her lips pulled away, his hand reached for her own, interlacing their fingers and bringing their hands high above her head. Gendry bent down, kissing hungrily at her lips for the briefest of seconds before releasing her hand. Arya looked up at him now, the rise and fall of their chests in sync.

"Come back for me," he breathed out, resting his forehead against her own.

Arya nodded, savoring the feel of his nose against hers, their lips just inches apart. "I will."

Walking beside the queen, Arya played with a loose thread on her tunic. The Kingslayer led their small party, with Ser Jorah rounding out the back. A handful of unsullied accompanied them, silent as they marched. To their right the Blackwater Bay glimmered, the smooth surface reflecting a thick blanket of stars from the clear sky. Their own ship lay about a mile down, secluded in an alcove off the bay.

"Did you have any pets growing up?" Dany asked, looking up. The queen had just finished telling Arya of the birth of her three dragons.

"My family found six direwolf pups in the woods. Mine was called Nymeria," Arya replied, suddenly uncomfortable. She reached up, rubbing the goose pimples crawling up her arms. Dany halted, giving Arya a knowing smile. The rest of their party came to a stop, mimicking their queen. Jaime turned to give them an exasperated look, which both girls ignored.

"I know how hard it is to speak of one's family, Arya. If you ever—"

Without warning, a scream went out. Arya and Dany whipped around towards the terrifying cry. One of the unsullied lay sprawled on the ground, dark blood seeping beneath the fletching of an arrow erupting from his throat. The queen screamed as another arrow went flying, this one grazing the arm of an unsullied as they ran to protect their queen, shields ready. Ser Jorah ran, sprinting up to protect her. Arya looked up amidst the chaos to where the arrow flew from, a point high up on the wall of the keep.

"Arya!" The voice caused Arya to peel her eyes away, now focusing at the dark form running towards her, crimson rippling from its shoulders. Jaime reached for her hand as another arrow pierced an unsullied's shield. "Arya, we have to go! Now!" Even in the darkness, Arya could make out the terrified pleading in his eyes.

She looked back once more at the queen, now on the round beneath a sea of iron and wood. From the distance she could make out more guards running towards them, ducking and rolling beneath a growing stream of arrows. Arya clasped onto the cold hand before her and ran.

Both at top speed, they sprinted away from the attack towards the end of the bay. Despite her agility, Jaime had longer legs, leaving her pulled along behind as they darted the arrows raining down. His cloak flew back at her, clouding her vision with blood before she ripped it away, tearing. On and on they seemed to run until he abruptly pulled her left, painfully jarring her wrist. A few yards ahead was their ship, unaffected in its alcove. High above on the ship a man began to yell, urging the crew to prepare to sail. Arya glanced behind; horrified at the battle taking place. Unsullied and unknowns now fought openly, their swords and steel reflecting off the bay and casting horrible shadows onto the keep's walls.

"Arya!" Jaime yelled, his voice distant. She looked up to find Jaime already on the ship, hands stretched down below the rail. Understanding and without looking back, Arya ran, springing off the hard ground until her hands were grabbed roughly from above, hauling her weight up. Another set of hands grabbed her legs as they appeared, yanking her over the edge before dropping her down hands first onto the hard deck. A hand reached for her own bruised one, but Arya shook her head in protest. Wincing, she propped herself up into a sitting positon, breathing hard as she leaned against the rail.

"What…in seven hells…was that?"

Although a small group of men now surrounded her, the crew no doubt, she looked only at Jaime. With a grim face, his eyes met her own. "It seems like the Tyrells have grown thorns." Jaime turned his face and spat at his feet.

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to review! I really enjoyed writing this chapter and would love to know what you think of it, and the story in general! I haven't gotten too much feedback on the last several chapters, so I really want to know what you're thinking. Thanks again!