I hate him! Hate him! How could he do that? One day she felt protected, supported, cared for and loved. And then another day she felt like she wanted to die of shame. One day she felt lust and desire. Then she thought she cared and grew to love him. But now she hated him. I hate him! How could one and the same man know her body better than herself and be so caring - she felt cherished, and oh so vulnerable - and then look at her as if she was no better than a common whore. Hate him! Stupid, bullheaded bastard! A camel's cunt! All because he could not stand the idea he was not there first. All because he had idealized her since she was ten and had been listening to too many of Tom's bloody stupid songs. The Arya he had loved in his mind had never existed. Him and his stupid M'ladies! All lies! Hate him! She should have left him in Braavos or sent him on a ship back to the Wall, him and his bloody stupid ideas of what was right and wrong. He knew nothing about right and wrong. Hate him!

He wore nothing but that damned black these days, and looking too damnable hot in it. I hate him! And every time he trained with Jaime, she cheered for every of the Kingslayer's blows that drew blood - every bruise, every broken tooth, and every cut he deserved. I hope he breaks his nose! She refused to carry Widow's Wail anymore. She had thrown it in a corner of the cabin. It was not beautiful. It was a fucking, ugly lie. A stupid heart! I don't want no stupid hearts anymore! Hate him! He drank a lot too, down below but also on deck at night, facing the door of her cabin. And when he did that, he would be staring with those stupid sad blue eyes of his at her door, she knew. Hate him! I hate him! One night she stormed out in her nightgown and demanded to know what he was doing there.

"I'm your Wolf Pack captain, and I'm on guard," he said.

She laughed at him. "There's nothing to guard me from here. You're just being a stupid drunken bull!" He shrugged and took another swallow of his wineskin. "I hope that one night you're so drunk that you fall overboard," she sneered.

He scowled then. His eyes flashed in anger and he frowned so hard he screwed up his face in that way when he had to think hard before giving an answer. Good! Because I hate him! She had turned, not giving him the time to reply, and slammed the door behind her. If he wanted to waste his time drinking and watching her door at night she did not care about it for one bit. So, he continued to guard her, and she continued to bury her hot tears of frustration and pain and hate in her pillow, trying to keep from waking up Brienne. She hated him for that too.

Arya once asked Brienne whether it was traditional at Tarth for women to become a knight. Despite her build and skill, Brienne was mostly a shy, recluse woman, and even spending a few months in the same cabin, Arya had acquired little knowledge or understanding about her. The woman seemed to rely on her privacy and Arya was loath to infringe on it. But Brienne had admitted, rather embarrassed, that it was not traditiona. Her father had indulged her, including refraining from forcing a marriage on her. Arya decided that Brienne's father must have loved his daughter greatly, and it strengthened her own feelings of her dead father for hiring Syrio Forel for her when she lived in King's Landing.

Arya considered naming someone else captain of her Wolf Pack - Edric Dayne - because she knew it would make Gendry hate her as much as she hated him. But she was not sure whether Edric would remain with them beyond Starfall. He had not seen his home anymore since he had squired for Ser Beric Dondarrion. He had no idea whether his aunt Allyria had married someone else. Neither Gendry nor Edric were Northerners, but at least Gendry had to return to the Wall. And her Wolves listened to Gendry, even Edric. They liked him and respected him. No matter how stupid he was, he could silence them with a look and a grumble and remind them of their station. She hated him for that as well.

She did spend most of her time with Edric though. He was handsome, but he also could make her laugh and had an easiness about him that made it hard not to like him. Edric had a pride about his family and ancestral home, not unlike her own. When he talked about Dorne and Starfall it made her curious to see it. She could not even remember whether she had ever met someone who felt as genuinely deep about his home than she did. Gendry certainly never had such feelings and had never understood that part of her. And if her and Edric spending time with each other made Gendry glare over it, then so much the better. Hate him! I hate him!

Edric had told her that after Ser Beric had died, he had attempted to go south to return home and reunite with his aunt, but he was forced to flee the Bloody Mummers at the God's Eye. He had taken a boat and it drifted to the heart of the lake, where he was welcomed by the Green Men who guarded the Isle of Faces. "They had been waiting for me, they told me."

"What are they? Are they children of the forest?" Arya asked.

Edric smiled friendly. "Alas, I am bound to some secrecy, and I am not allowed to reveal who or what they are."

"Is it true they have green skin and horns?"

Edric chuckled. "No. They just wear green cloaks and antler crowns."

Arya laughed at herself for feeling like an excited child listening to Nan's stories. It was at the Isle of Faces that Edric had met Rowland Fenn who had traveled there to learn about what was happening to the world when direwolves roamed the forests, part of the Neck was starting to freeze and Winterfell had fallen.

"We both have the most ancient blood in us, the Starks and the Daynes. But our houses have dwindled and are nearly extinct," Edric had said. "There has been no Sword of the Morning since the death of my uncle Arthur, and there is no Stark at Winterfell. The Others have been waiting for such a time to rise once more and claim Westeros for their own. If they win, neither dawn nor spring will ever return."

Arya was almost tempted to laugh at Edric, for believing in such tales, but he looked so serious and worried, she had refrained from doing so. She remembered the Ghost of High Heart and Beric's flaming sword that had scalded the Hound's arm. Perhaps this was an age of stories come again. "So, what did they give you for council?"

"I was to retrieve Dawn and send the Sword of Morning to the Wall, as well as help any lost Stark to get back to Winterfell, and find the Darkheart."

Arya froze when she heard the last. Was it a coincidence that she had just been dwelling on the Ghost of High Heart when Edric mentioned it? What had the ghost been telling her? She called her a wolf child, cruel, and 'dark heart' and ordered her to be gone. Could I be this Darkheart? She remembered the kindly man interrogating her to mentally beat her into becoming No One. How often had she said to him she had a hole instead of a heart? Arya thought about the name she had been given for her last test to become a true Faceless Woman. Is there more behind it than just some paid contract? Could it have anything to do with deciding whether the Others would win or lose?

"Who is this Darkheart?" she asked Edric.

He shook his head. "I don't know, but I think they might have meant my cousin Gerold Dayne. He's called the Darkstar. He's cruel and heartless and he has been lost. No one knows where he is."

"Then why did you go to White Harbour and Braavos, instead of Dorne and your home?"

"Well, I learned that a lost Stark child had been found and was safe in White Harbor."

Arya nodded. "Rickon."

"So, I assumed I would first help him get Winterfell back and travel with Rowland. He's a crannogman who could help me journey through the Riverlands and the Neck unseen." Edric's blue-purple eyes turned apologetic. "I offered my sword and service to Wylis Manderly, but he seemed not intent to make any move to occupy Winterfell. He wanted to wait until Rickon is of age."

It was as she had feared. Manderly wanted to have power over her brother and turn him into a puppet. Rickon had to be about eight now, and it would be another eight years before Rickon would be of age. "Did you see Rickon?"

"Aye, and his locked up direwolf." Edric's voice sounded sad but also horrified. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but your brother I fear has lost his mind. He claims to have no family at all. They all left him, he says. There is this wild woman with him, Osha. He says she's his only mother. And he's wild - I mean really feral. He cannot stand walls or fine clothing - rips it to shreds and destroys furniture. And he howls and growls more than he speaks." Edric whispered, "It's rumored he survived in Skagos for several years." He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "Perhaps Lord Manderly has the right of it to keep Rickon with him."

Arya pitied her younger brother. She had been young and feeling lonely, with every one dying or leaving her. Hate him! I hate him! And she knew what it had done to her. She was No One, maybe this Darkheart. Her youngest brother had been only four when she last saw him. It would have been worse on him. He would have had nothing to rely on to somehow cope with it all. And if he had been forced to survive on Skagos of all places, well ...

Arya nodded and smiled at him. "I understand, Edric. You realized you could not help him, and came to Braavos to sail for Dorne."

"Aye, and Rowland had been ordered by Howland Reed to join me in my quests. But when we arrived in Braavos, we heard talk of a Princess of the North looking for men to join her armed company. I knew it could not be Sansa Stark, so I hoped it might be you."

She had touched his hand in gratitude. Edric had stared at it, confused. "And House Dayne never was able to join the Martells along Aegon's side against the dragon queen," she concluded. "Because the Lord of Starfall was not there."

There was a commotion behind them - Gendry had managed to mark Jaime's arm with his broadsword. He stood there in the middle of the sparring space, tall and legs wide, and was glowering at her and Edric. He truly looked like an angered bull, preparing to attack her, with his broadsword for horns. She glared right back at him, and then whirled around, her nose in the air. Hate you! I hate you!

At Pentos they anchored for new provisions. Her men thought to make the most of the stop and wanted to visit the city in search of inns and brothels. But Gendry had ordered them to remain on board. Pentos was not entirely safe, not anymore. The Tattered Prince ruled the city, instead of the Magisters these days. He wanted to be gone as soon as may be. Arya knew he was right. Hate him! I hate him!

But they did lay anchor for a few days in Tyrosh, before daring the crossing of the Narrow Sea to Dorne. The port city was busy, all trading business and colorful. She groaned when her men returned with all sorts of colored beards. Hugo Wull and his men came back one night from a brothel with blue beards, as drunk as King Robert. The next day father and son Flint had purple beards, and Morgan Liddle a green one. After that Brandon Norrey the Younger dyed his beard yellow and the Forrester men silver. She had not seen Gendry for several days. At least he had not been glowering and lurking in front of her cabin at night while they lay anchored. And if he dared to board the ship with a dyed beard she would have ordered him to shave it off. When they were preparing to lift anchor, he reappeared with his hair and beard still jet black, but carrying a helmet, a wolf's helmet. Hate him! I hate him! As the Wolf Captain, he had said, he ought to have a helmet and there had been no time to make one in Braavos.

"Why a wolf of all things?" she had hissed.

"I'm a wolf for a long while already, longer than you know, Your Highness," he said with barred teeth, and almost growling, as he hovered over her, his face only a few inches away from her. "The old crone of High Heart dubbed me Black Wolf years ago." And then he stood proudly. "Besides I'm the Wolf captain."

Hate you! I hate you! She had whirled around and ignored him further. When they finally set sail for open sea, he returned to his self-appointed duty of guarding the cabin, drinking wine and polishing this stupid wolf helmet. Hate him! I hate him!

They crossed to Westeros from Essos following the Stepstones. Although it was the narrowest part of the Narrow Sea, it was also the one with the heaviest storms and the hide-out of pirates. Both Winter Heart's armed crew as well as her men relieved each other day and night to be on the look-out for pirates and Ironborn reavers. But heavy storms kept them at bay. Arya had never sailed in a storm before, and she had never been so sick in her life, forced to remain in her cabin with a bucket. When one storm lay at rest by the morn, another one was sure to follow by midday or evenfall. She soon regretted for ever deciding on this route and was sure they would all end up as wreckage on one of the islands of the Stepstones. But the Old Gods must have been with them, for they managed to reach Dorne's desolated shores - Sunspear and Shadow Town appeared to be in ruins.

"I can't see no towers," Edric said aghast. "The Spear Tower and Sun Tower are gone."

She knew it would pain her to see Winterfell at ruins and she sympathized with Edric over his dismay. Edric wondered aloud whether something similar had happened to the Water Gardens, and told her how he as a young child used to play with the other Dornish children, before he squired for Ser Beric – girls, boys, highborn, lowborn, heirs and natural children. It sounded like a magical safe haven for children that she would have enjoyed very much herself. How novel and wondrous that there was a place where nobody instructed children how or with whom to play. There ought to be something like that in every kingdom, she thought. What a great pity it would be if the dragon queen had destroyed it with her dragon and a Dothraki army, because Aegon's wife, Queen Arianne Martell, had taken refuge at Sunspear after she found herself with child. The dragon queen had claimed Aegon was a Blackfyre pretender, a false king. Whether he was false or true was of little matter. Danaerys had dragons and even rode one, Aegon had none. He had been forced to flee and leave her the Stormlands and King's Landing for the taking upon her arrival. Arya did not know whether Aegon would have made a good king, but he and Arianne had ousted the Lannisters from the throne, while Queen Danaerys had brought wholesale destruction to the Reach, Stormlands and Dorne. She decided there that she did not like the new queen – vengeful and bitter. And yet, she thought, am I that much different? If I had dragons and a Dothraki horde what would I do with them? Building a hot water garden for the children in the North seemed such a better idea.

The rest of the voyage was pleasant, with good weather. It was as if winter had not reached as far as the Summer Sea. But this part was the slowest of the whole voyage, for there were threacherous cliffs and shoals along the coast. Edric had not dared to land in Planky Town and complete their voyage up the Greenblood with the orphans' barges and overland beyond Godsgrace. No one knew what the Dothraki had done inland, nor how loyalties lay towards the Daynes.

When she finally saw Starfall with her own eyes, Arya thought it could have come straight out of one of Nan's stories, with all its high golden colored spires and towers and whitewashed walls sparkling in the sun. It was settled at the heart of an island where the Torrentine rushed into the sea, and it showed no sign of any recent war.

"What do you think?" Edric asked of her with expectancy in his voice.

"It's beautiful! So summery and light."

Edric beamed at her comment. "Welcome to Starfall, Your Highness," he had said, offering her his arm to lead her in, while Gendry walked behind them with a silent grimace. Hate him! I hate him!

The castellan and steward called it a miracle to see their Lord safely returned. A feast had been ordered to celebrate the homecoming of the Lord of Starfall. Edric installed her in the tower room of his late aunt Lady Ashara Dayne. Aside from Brienne, her Wolf Pack was to sleep in the lower rooms or the hall, but Gendry butted heads with Edric and insisted on having a room close to Arya to watch her. Hate him! I hate him! Arya had free use of any of Ashara's dresses and discovered that Ashara also had male attire for riding and hunting. Arya even found a beautiful dagger and a bow and arrows in the whitewashed tower room. She used to imagine Ashara had been some courtly looking lady like Cersei. But seeing she must have dressed like a man, like she did, made Arya think that she must have been more than that, after all. It was strange to consider her father may have loved this woman who had jumped from the tower after she learned of the death of her brother Arthur and that Ned Stark had married Arya's mother instead of her. She remembered her fury when Edric had first mentioned it all those years ago. But she was older now. She understood that, before her father and mother were married through circumstance, they perhaps may have wished for someone else. And if her father had perhaps fallen for a fair brown haired woman with violet eyes who hunted and rode horses, she could forgive him that.

All was not well though for the Daynes. Ser Beric's betrothed had been kidnapped recently, after the war of the False Dragon. Upon finally learning of her betrothed's death, Lady Allyria Dayne had set out to return to Starfall over land through the passes of the Red Mountains. Gerold Dayne of the Cadet Branch, had been missing for many years, but he kidnapped her, allegedly to force her into marriage, so that he could become Lord of Starfall. The return of Edric foiled that plan at least, but Edric still wanted his aunt back. He could not leave her in the power of his heartless cousin. His men and women were set to prepare to ride out for the Red Mountains and find them. Although armed women were in a minority of those preparing for the hunt of Darkstar, there were enough of them for Arya to notice and realize that at least at Starfall women doing battle was not something exceptional. One of Edric's sergeants was a woman even.

Of course, Arya Stark's presence at Starfall evoked plenty of gossip. She was a unique beauty – the alluring boyish, petite type that almost seemed to have an ethereal quality. She had traveled from the North to Starfall together with Edric Dayne, along with her own company of warriors. They had no other explanation for it than that she was Edric's choice of a wife, and that Arya Stark would be their new Lady of Starfall soon. "Finally", they said, "a Stark will unite with a Dayne." They hoped that a wedding feast would follow promptly. Arya smiled about it when she heard of it. While she thought Starfall almost magical in its beauty and their acceptance of warrior women warmed her to the region, she had no intention of remaining at Starfall, let alone become the lady of House Dayne. It was even funnier when she noticed Gendry's mood growing fouler by the consecutive days.

While, a wedding had not been on Arya's mind, it evidently had been on Edric's. To her own bewilderment, he went down on his knee for her one evening, not long after their arrival. He had invited her to walk the beautiful citrus and flower gardens of Starfall's godswood.

"Your Highness," he began, lifting her hand. "I have always had the highest regard for the Starks of the North."

She had giggled nervously and whispered. "Lord Dayne, what are you doing?"

With great feeling he had stammered, "P-Princess Arya, w-would you accept me as your husband and Starfall as your home?"

"Edric!" she had gasped, glad the dusk was hiding her blush. She wanted to pull her hand away, but he was holding hers tightly with his own.

"I always liked you, Arya, and since we met again in Braavos I have come to feel admiration and love for you." When she did not immediately respond, he said with some doubt. "Perhaps, you have not seen my admiration grow, and I have taken you by surprise. But if you will have me, you would bring the greatest honor to my house. And in return for giving me everlasting happiness I will pledge my house and my bannermen to your cause to reclaim Winterfell and the North for the Starks."

She blinked at the young lord who looked at her with admiration, his face aglow with feeling, though his words had been rather formal. She could see that the young Lord had spoken truth, though she had never imagined she could inspire such a type of love in a man. It was different than the almost animalistic and possessive kind she had experienced from Gendry. There was no doubt about it that she thought Edric a handsome man. He was tall, had long fine blond hair and eyes that looked almost violet. Though of legal age, he was young still, and lacking Gendry's rawness. But Edric was refined, alluring and kind. Could I grow to love him, in time? Of course his pledge to help restore Winterfell to the Starks with his liegemen was not without value.

She pulled her hand away. "Lord Dayne, I am greatly honored by your proposal, but I admit it has taken me by surprise."

"Do not say no yet, Arya. Promise me you will think about my offer."

She could hear the disappointment in his voice and she could not bear it to distress him by giving him a refusal, without actually weighing his proposal. "I will think about it, Lord Dayne."

Arya hurried out of the gardens only to nearly bump into Gendry who just returned from the stables. He squinted at her with suspicion, and she felt too vulnerable to meet his searching eyes with a stern, reproachful glare in return. She had wanted to race past him to her room. But his hand grabbed her arm just in time in an iron hold she knew would leave bruises afterwards. "Arya?" There was raw pain and anguish along with rage and anger in his voice. It sounded like a threat almost.

"Let me go!" She wrenched her arm free of his clasp. She wanted nothing to do with his pain. It was her life. Hate him! I hate him!

The welcoming feast was held the following evening, and she had not eaten such a rich meal since long. It was exotic and spciy. She tried several grape leafs stuffed with different sort of ingredients; like the one filled with raisins, peppers, onions and mushrooms, or another with white cheese and olives to temper the heat in her mouth. The green peppers stuffed with creamy cheese and onions brought tears to her eyes and made her nose runny. She grabbed for a pitcher of water, but Edric shook his head. "Only bread, milk or cheese can lessen the heat. Water will only make it worse." So, she tore a piece of the flatbread and dipped in almond milk and chewed on it. Edric had been right. Gradually, the painful sensation of the spices lessened and went away. The meat that was served was lamb, but she refrained from eating it. Arya never liked lamb. Instead she tasted a hot dish of grilled snake with fiery mustard sauce, and tried to combine it with another piece of flatbread dipped in a chickpea paste.

There was music and dancing and laughter, and she even allowed Edric to invite her onto the central floor. It was a different type of dancing done in the North or at court. Men stood at one side and the women at the other, involving clapping hands beside the head, shouts and stomping heels of the boots, lifted skirts and twirls, and passing steps to the other side, but without ever touching one another. Somehow, it reminded her of the dressing games she played with Bellegere in Braavos. She was not any good at it, but it was fun nonetheless. But by the time the deserts were served for some reason the earlier joy had left her. There were stuffed dates with honey, creamcakes, lemon tarts and sweet lemon cakes. Though the latter had been Sansa's favorite desert and not Arya's it instantly reminded her of her childhood and home in the cold North. This was not her home. These were not her people. She had no home anymore, really, and perhaps never would have. Despite its appeal, nothing about making Starfall her home felt right. Edric's offer had plenty of advantages, such as house Dayne uniting their forces and loyalties with those of the North loyal to the Stark. And she knew every young highborn woman was supposed to relinquish her father's House. Had the king not died, had her father lived, and had Ser Beric returned with his squire to King's Landing, this may indeed have been the match her father would have promoted. If things had been different, she might have grown happy here. But so much had happened, and she was so much changed. It would not be right.

The feast was suddenly interrupted by an ugly brawl that was quickly taken outside in the yard. But fights were not uncommon to her during a feast. She had seen it happen in Winterfell as well. Most likely it was about one of the serving wenches. It was Brienne who approached her seat and whispered in her ear, "Your Highness, you are required to come to put a stop to the fight. I fear somebody will get killed, and it would destroy our chances to get a loyal contingent from Lord Dayne's service."

Her face grew stern. "Who?" she asked, but already had an inkling.

"Ser Gendry and the captain of Starfall's guard, Your Highness."

She knew it! That blockheaded, drunken fool would ruin everything. Hate him! I hate him! "Excuse me, Lord Dayne; I believe I have to settle some matter outside." She rose, before Edric could inquire after it, and Brienne followed her on her heel to the courtyard. Outside, she heard yelling and hooting. Starfall guards against Wolf Pack stood in a circle around the two men fighting. Jaime was watching it all with a sneer from the side wall. She stomped towards the gathered men, shoved No Nose Ned out of the way and wormed through the throng of shouting men. "Stop this at once! Now!" They had drawn blood with sharp, she could tell. "Now, Ser Gendry!"

He scowled at her, as blood was dripping along his forehead and cheek. Whether it was his or the other, she could not tell. He was panting and staggering on his legs. Drunk for sure! I hate him! The other looked to be in no better shape. His white shirt was soaked in blood along the arm piece. He stood, bent over, leaning with his hands on his knee to catch his breath.

"I will shove both of year heads together if that's what it takes, but you make your peace now, shake hands, and go to your beds to sober up."

Gendry spat on the ground, but did as she ordered him to and held out his hand. Arthur Sand, the Starfall captain seemed to have no intention of accepting it, but the other guards shoved him and told him to do what the Lady Arya was saying - she did not appear a woman to trifle with. Arthur straightened up and finally shook Gendry's hand. She wanted to say something to Gendry as he walked towards her, but he ignored her completely and walked right past her without giving her a glance.

Arya contemplated returning to the feast and just let him stew, but she had enough of it. Weeks - nay months - she had indulged him too much in his insolent, stubborn behaviour and his drinking. She raced after him and flung the door open to his cell close to her room. He had removed his black shirt and was wringing it in the washtub. The water looked deep red. Blood was dripping from a scrape from his temple and a gash in his shoulder. By the Old Gods, I hate him so! "What the bloody seven hells were you thinking?! If you want to get yourself killed, could you do it with soldiers that are foes, rather than friends?"

His black, bearded jaw clenched and flexed and he dropped the shirt in the basin with a splash. He turned around and his blue eyes were full of rage. Hate him! I hate him! "Are you going to marry him?"

"I hate you!" she spat.

"Tell me, Arya! Was it him?"

"No, it wasn't him, you fool! It was some fucking forty year old ship merchant of Braavos I was supposed to kill, pretending to be a courtesan. The Black Pearl guided me. I didn't like it, but it wasn't half as bad as I expected it to be."

She saw the blood drain from his face. He turned white as a sheet. "The Winter Rose," he whispered.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" she cried. And then the anger left his face and was replaced with something else. He had figured her out. She could foretell by the shift in his eyes what he would do next. "Stay away from me, Gendry!" she threatened, and she started for the door. "No, no, no, don't you dare." She ran when she saw him lurch for her.

But he was quick as a snake, grabbed her by the arm, whirled her round and pressed his bruising lips hard on her mouth. I hate you! But her own lips and mouth betrayed her. She kissed him as ravenously as he kissed her. She pummeled her fists against his chest, but he ignored it, lifted her in the air and crashed the door of his room shut with his boot. I hate you! She moaned and chewed her own lip as he tore at her bodice to reach her breasts with his mouth, while he slammed her against the wall and pressed his crotch into her. I hate you! And she wrapped her strong legs around his hips, as he squashed his erection into her belly. He had ruined the bodice and was sucking her nipple so hard it almost hurt. He devoured her teats hard and painfully. She was panting and gasping for air, while she had never felt such an urgent longing before. Arya was instantly wet for him. I hate you! Her hands searched for the laces of his pants and yanked hard at it. She grabbed for his slick, wet head of his proud cock that sprang free, thick and heavy. He slid her skirt up and searched with his fingers for her little flower, finding it easily enough and rubbing it gently with the right amount of pressure, while he rolled his tongue in her mouth again. She whimpered as she felt her body crying for him in need and her mind was awash with dizziness.

"I love you," he said hoarsely, hungry like a wolf. "I love you! I love you!"

I hate you! And her mouth sucked his tongue inside, famished, while she lifted her hips in expectation of him. "Fuck me, Gendry! Now!"

She felt his cock searching, bumping against her thigh, while he pressed himself up against her. When he grabbed his cock with one hand and eagerly guided it where she wanted him, she chewed her lip in anticipation and thought she would soon lose her mind. His other arm was wrapped underneath her leg to hold her where they stood, his fingers digging into her thigh. It would leave bruises. She squeezed her legs tighter around his hips to brace herself for the impact. He rubbed the glistening head of his cock quickly several times between her swollen lips. She let gravity help her fit around his cock. And then she felt him finally enter her and her own muscles part for him. His stiff cock pushed into her, hard and deep, and stretched her, and claimed her, and her wet muscles embraced him like a glove. I hate you!

She sobbed. The sensation of fullness inside her made her want to beat his back. "More!"

Gendry rasped her name. He was panting rapidly and then retreated, gritting his teeth. No! No! No! But before he was fully gone, he shoved himself in her again. I hate you!

"Deeper, harder," she gasped.

He retreated again, and she squeezed her inner muscles to cling to him. He swore to the Lord of Light to have mercy on him in a deep raucous rumble. He slammed into her again as deep as he could.

"Yes!" I hate you! "Faster!"

He let go of all restraint and pumped hard, pressing her tightly against the wall, burying his face in her neck, one arm holding her leg up, the other leaning against the wall. He drove into her, again and again and again, over and over. She had the hardest time to keep up with him, trying to match his pace, making sure her treasure of pleasure pressed against the root of his thick, slick cock and hardly relaxing her inner muscles on him. She could smell herself on him and him on her. The mix of musky smells of the both of them was intoxicating to her like sweet summerwine. Her hands went around his ass, to ride him, and the feel of his buttocks clenching and flexing made her delirious. He thrust into her, harder, faster with every stroke, over and over, grunting with every plunge. His muscles were tightening. All of his muscles, arms, thighs, hands, knees, and chest compressed her.

"Lord have mercy," he croaked. "I won't last long anymore."

She was urging him on, tightening every muscle of her body. The edge was so close and yet so far still. He whimpered. No wait, not yet! Had she only thought it or had she shouted it? She clung to him and waited, unmoving, yet clasping him with her thighs and inner muscles. "Help me get there, Gendry," she mumbled.

He waited. "Don't move!" he said. "Please, don't move."

His mouth sought her lips, softer, more loving, and slowly he retreated partially, before thrusting inside again. She jolted. Yes, she edged closer to the brink and she moaned long and low. His hand coursed through her hair as he leisurely and at length built up the rhythm again. This time she was there to follow him. It was slow, but inch by inch she clawed her way up for the last stretch to the needed height. She did not believe she could tighten her muscles anymore. She was sobbing and his breadth came out rasping. Now! Now! Now! There it was - the edge, and close enough for her to take the plunge. Her nails dug into the cheecks of his clenched ass as she pressed him into her and her muscles squeezed and pressed and clutched on his cock like a fist.

He groaned as he drove hard and deep into her, again and again, kissing her jawline repeatedly. "Come for me, Arya. Come," he whispered.

She cried out in ecstasy and joy, and broke out in laughter. Yes! Her mind and her flower seemed to explode all at once. The sensation rushed from her spine into her brain, and she thought she could reach for the stars. Her body was the milk path across the night sky. Was this really happening? Meanwhile the blood rushed in low, deep pulsations through her pleasure center, into her glands and her inner muscles relaxed and tightened over and over, as the waves of her orgasm lapped back and forth.

She felt him attempting to leave, but she clung to him. "Don't leave me, Gendry! Don't leave."

Gendry whimpered unintelligible words as he speared into her with irregular jolts and filled her with his seed. He kissed her repeatedly. She needed to find some tansy tea tomorrow. He moved inside and out a few more times to spill it all. She relaxed and he relaxed. They slumped against the wall and sagged down onto the floor, him staying inside her though he was shrinking, her legs still around him - their rasping breaths, soaked hair, embracing arms, reaching fingers, sweating legs, and exhausted bodies intertwined.

"Don't hate me anymore, Arya," he mumbled to her with his eyes closed, still trying to catch his breath.

"I don't hate you, Gendry. I love you," she whispered as she caressed his cheek. And he smiled.