SANSA

"It's ready for a final fit," Gendry chimed. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with the largest grin Sansa had ever seen him wear.

He had come to find her late in the afternoon, and hovered about her as she finalised inspections of the granaries with Maester Wolken.

She found herself laughing back at him, a smile spreading over her own face as they made their way into the main forge, seemingly empty, and closed the door behind them. "You certainly seem proud of yourself."

She had come to find that Gendry always managed to lighten her mood. He wasn't like her, she had decided. He was cheerful and warm, and he somehow managed to find a joke in everything. At first she found it frustratingly annoying, but she was starting to grow fond of it. It didn't take her long to realise she was starting to grow fond of him.

"Yes…well I'm happy with it," he said. "Though it ain't exactly as you designed it. I added a few details…a bit fancy really but once I started I couldn't stop. Not too fancy for your your lady-ship of course…perhaps not my best work, though…"

He was rambling again.

"I hadn't expected you to make it as detailed as my drawings. I'm sure whatever you've done will be suitable." Sansa said.

"Oh," his voice was suddenly quite serious. "I hope you don't mind. I wanted to make it your own…House Stark and everything."

That had surprised her into silence.

Gendry pulled something covered in a dark cloth out from under the desk and brought it over to the centre table. She noticed he looked cleaner than usual. There was significantly less soot on his face and arms, and the shirt he wore had fewer patches and grease stains. She wondered if he had cleaned up intentionally before coming to find her. It made her stomach flutter.

He gave Sansa a look that seemed to resemble a strange entanglement of excitement and utter fear before unveiling the breastplate.

She had expected to see a plate of shining metal gleaming back at her, but was met with something completely different. It had been covered in dark grey leather, with elegant silver edging and rivets. In the centre of it was a weir wood tree - it's trunk and branches shaped out of polished steel. The leaves were what looked to be dyed leather, finely sown into the darker background, all blood-red with the exception of two deep blue ones.

It was beautiful. The tree itself seemed to be calling her forward to see it more clearly, and as she did so she realised that the leaves on the tree had been shaped perfectly together to make the face of a wolf -staring out at her with the two blue leaves that were it's eyes.

She was completely stunned.

"It's…I don't know what to say…"

"It's too much," he said rather glumly. "I got over-excited, didn't I? It ain't even your house colours. But then I thought, your hair…y'know…" he pointed at the red leaves. "Should have just gone with the black and grey, right? It's just that everything's already so black and grey up here…not that it's not beautiful, o'course -"

"Gendry," Sansa finally managed to get out. "It's incredible."

She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him that it was the most perfect thing she had ever seen. She wanted to tell him that it was so much more than she ever could have imagined. She knew she should tell him that it was far more work than he should have done but she felt so grateful for it that she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

It seemed she had said enough for the grin to return to his face, and her heart felt suddenly full of a warmth she couldn't remember feeling before. It was like the sun that had been missing for so long was right there in the room with them.

"Should I…" Sansa gestured toward the breastplate.

"Yes, of course. Please try it."

She untied the cords on her cloak and pulled it off from her shoulders to lay it over the chair, and took the armour from him. It was lighter than she had expected it to be, at which she breathed a silent sigh of relief. The shoulder straps were already fastened so she put it straight over her head, and began pulling her hair free from underneath, wishing she had braided it that morning rather than wearing it down.

"So far so good then," Gendry said. "It's a little uneven, I'll adjust the shoulders.."

He moved toward her with a hand outstretched to her shoulder before he stopped. "If I may, that is?" He asked, serious again, catching her eye.

Sansa was surprised to feel herself blush a little as she nodded and looked away.

He moved to stand by her right side, and ever so carefully he swept a lock of loose hair over her shoulder. His fingers brush gently past her neck and felt herself tense up. Out of the corner of her vision she could see some small beads of sweat on his neck, and she noticed that his hands shook a little as he loosened the buckle.

She turned her head just enough to meet his eye and this time they held. It was the first time she'd noticed their colour, a soft greyish blue, like the Northern skies at dusk. Then suddenly she couldn't resist the urge to look at his lips. His voice startled her and she broke her gaze.

"I can help you with the side straps too," he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Sansa could feel his breath on her, fanning the side of her face and sending a shiver down her body. Her own breath hitched in her throat. Her voiced seemed to have abandoned her so she nodded again, awkwardly lifting her arms out to the side.

The room was dark but for the light from the fire and some candles on the desk by the door, and silent but for the thundering sound of her heart in her chest. She felt sure that he could hear it, what with the way it was deafening her.

Gendry fumbled away at the straps one by one, working his way from her right to left side. Sansa's breathing grew more erratic with every tug of the leather buckles.

"Do you mind if I just check over it for the fit?"

Sansa swallowed but her mouth was dry. "Of course. That is - I mean no, I don't mind."

He pulled a little at the collar, then under each of her arms. He began moving around her body again and with every touch he looked back at her for permission.

"The weight of the plate should all be here…" He said as he came to stand behind her, placing his hands on either of her hips.

Sansa breathed in sharply. His hands seemed to burn straight through the layers of clothing, metal and leather between his them, to her waist. As he stood there, the heat move through her, lower and lower…

She could feel how close he was to her, but she wanted him closer. She wanted to turn around, she wanted to feel what his body would feel like pressed up against hers. She wasn't sure she had ever wanted to feel that from someone, and she felt shocked by her own thoughts.

She was silent and still for long enough for Gendry pulled his hands away.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have…" he said.

Before any reasonable thought could enter her mind she spun around to face him and grabbed his arm as he began to turn away.

"Wait," she whispered, her hand trembled against his warm skin.