Chapter XXXVI: The Winter Wolves

Jaime Lannister was whispering stupid things near her ear as she handed the reins of her horse to the stableboy. Arya rolled her eyes. He was still a Lannister and if she could, she would kill him without hesitation instantly. But Bran had told her not to, and she had- with great difficulty- kept her word. Perhaps it helped that Jaime was more like his brother than his sister. The way he talked reminded her of the Imp, but looking at him always brought Cersei to her mind. Jaime Lannister had both of their siblings in him. Arya wondered if he hated that.

Looking at Sansa's face as her red-headed sister rushed towards her, Arya was filled with guilt. She had stopped herself from thinking too much of the Hound till then, but the moment their eyes met, she could see Sansa look at her almost with pity. There was sadness in her sister's eyes. Even if Sansa or Sandor never said anything of it, Arya knew that their relationship had went beyond friendship. Arya would never ask Sansa of it, and she doubted that her sister would ever say anything to her either. But Arya had read faces for a long time, and she would lie to herself if she said that she did not understand what Sansa had felt for the Hound. Perhaps not love, but something close enough.

Sansa crashed into Arya and embraced her tightly. Arya felt her sister whisper little things into her hair, but she did not say anything. She was still ashamed that she had not brought him back, and she did not think she had the strength to look into Sansa's eyes and take his name.

She moved away from Sansa and realized that her belly had grown since she had left. Or maybe she had not really paid much attention till then. Sansa placed a hand on her stomach and smiled. She kissed Arya on the cheek again, and then there were tears in her eyes.

"Hush, Sansa," Arya joked in a whisper. "You'll embarrass me."

Sansa laughed, and Arya wondered how she had ever managed to hate her. She was emotional and bossy and sometimes an idiot, but Arya wouldn't have chosen anyone else as her sister.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jaime Lannister clearing his throat. Arya sighed and introduced Sansa to him. To her surprise, Sansa greeted him as amicably as anyone could, and let him kiss her hand.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Ser Jaime," her sister said in her usual sweet voice. "I would ask you to rest but I insist that you see my brother first. Bran has been waiting to see you."

Arya scoffed loudly.

"He's not exactly a guest, Sansa. Don't treat him like one."

She heard Sansa sigh, but Jaime was looking at her with amusement.

"I thought I had grown on you, Lady Stark."

"I can still chose to kill you, Ser."

"Your brother wants me to live."

"I can convince my brother."

"Then why haven't you yet?"

This time it was Sansa who cleared her throat. Arya bit her lip and stopped talking. Jaime Lannister bowed respectfully to Sansa and winked at Arya, making her want to stab him in his gut.

When Sansa had Brienne lead him to the Godswood to see Bran, Arya felt herself being pulled away instantly by her. She followed her without a word. When they had reached the top of the stairs, Sansa finally stopped, and turned to her with a face full of worry.

"Jon's coming home."

Arya bit her lip again.

"It's fine, Sansa."

She wasn't naive. She knew that she would have to face Jon sooner or later. Whatever had happened between them, she would look past everything and meet him normally, because no matter how much tumultuous feelings she could feel inside her heart, she still had missed him terribly over the last few weeks. She wanted nothing more than to see his face, even if he was still angry with her. Or if he hated her for what had happened between them. Arya had learned how to pretend. She would pretend that everything was fine and that Jon was still the same person to her. She cursed Jaime Lannister in her mind. That man had put some stupid thoughts in her head, and made her realize things she would have rather not have realized. Her head and her heart were a mess, with the pieces strewn everywhere. But Jon didn't have to know that. Neither did Sansa. And Arya needed to stop thinking.

"Tell me what happened between you?" Sansa asked calmly. Arya almost had the mind to shake her head and leave but then she thought the better of it.

"Nothing much. We fought, and things have been tense that's all. Don't worry about it."

Sansa looked more worried after hearing her words.

"Arya." She held her hand. "I know you're not telling me something."

"It's nothing, Sansa." Arya's heart was racing.

"Arya-"

"It's nothing, Sansa," she insisted. Arya squeezed her hand in return and forced out a smile. She could see that Sansa was not even nearly convinced, but Arya wanted nothing more than to drop the conversation. She would think of Jon when Jon was there in front of her. If she spent any more time thinking of him, she would surely lose her mind. Or worse she would spill everything in her head onto Sansa, which she wanted to avoid at any cost.

"I want to rest," Arya offered as an excuse. Years of being alone had made her well suited to seclusion. Sometimes, all she needed to get her head straight was distance from others.

"Go, then," Sansa told her reluctantly. "Shall I ask someone to prepare a bath?"

Arya shook her head gratefully.

"I want to be alone for a while. I've been tired." She looked at the direction of the Godswood, wondering what Bran was telling the Kingslayer. Sansa noticed that.

"It must be something important," her sister offered.

Arya hummed under her breath. Bran had made her travel for days with an excruciatingly annoying person. Arya would get the truth out of that boy, whatever it was. She dreaded to think of having to see Jaime in Winterfell everyday. She already had a headache thinking of it.

Her chambers had been cleaned and the candles had been lit. Dusk was approaching, and Arya realized that the place had grown colder than the last time she was there. She closed the windows and discarded her cloak on the floor carelessly, moving to sit on her bed. Arya sighed as her backside hit the soft featherbed, and she couldn't stop herself from falling back on it. She closed her eyes briefly, but opened them when she realized that she was still cold. She had been wearing one of Daenerys' gown: a long, flowy material more suited for summers. She had never worn anything like that before. Arya played with the silk hem of the dress, the creamy fabric creasing under her touch, and she closed her eyes again.

A knock on the door made Arya sit up abruptly. She had fallen asleep. She looked around and saw that the candles had burned halfway through. It was night. When she stood up, the cold felt harsh on her skin.

She moved to open the door with one hand, clutching the cloak around her with another. The door opened with a creak and Arya moved her eyes to look at the visitor, only to find a pair of sea blue eyes staring back at her.

Arya let him in. She faced away from him and told him to close the door behind him. She sat on her bed with a thud and looked up at her best friend. Gendry stood quietly in his place only looking at her, and Arya curved the side of her mouth.

"So you finally gather the courage to come visit my chambers?" Her voice was amusing, and she saw that Gendry was visibly surprised by her words. He was expecting her to react differently.

"How are you, Arry?"

Arya closed her eyes. His voice was cracking, and he was nervous. Arya did not know if she was supposed to be mad at him or if she was, but she realized that she had missed him so much, and only that mattered to her now.

"Gendry," she took his name. It had been long since she had said that name. It brought back memories. It had been long since she had kissed him too. Maybe she wanted to. She did not know anymore.

Arya opened her eyes to find him kneeling in front of her. Gendry's eyes were so beautifully blue that it reminded her of Essos, of the waters near the port of Braavos. Blue and bright and striking.

"I would kill myself," Gendry said with a small voice. He was looking at the floor now, refusing to meet her eyes; his hands on her knees. "Don't be mad at me, Arry."

"Shut up, stupid," Arya said with a smile. She ran her fingers through his hair, watching the jet black strands shine in the vermilion candlelight. It was Gendry's turn to close his eyes.

"I do not hate you, stupid," she told him. "I only feel betrayed because you told him. You are my best friend, Gendry. I couldn't hate you even if I tried to."

She regretted mentioning him. She had spent the last few minutes focused only on Gendry, but as soon as she mentioned Jon, his face was all she could see in her mind. She did not want to think of Jon when Gendry was looking at her like that.

Gendry stood up. Arya had to tilt her head up to see him, since he was so much taller than him. Her fingers let go of her cloak as she stood up and wrapped her arms around him. Gendry's body was warm when he held her, and Arya sighed, thinking of Jon again. Jon was warmer, but that was perhaps because he was a dragon.

She leaned up on her toes to reach up and touch his face. Gendry was hesitant at first, but then he welcomed her inviting lips over his own. Arya closed her eyes, wondering if this was enough to make her forget about the other man and keep her attention only on Gendry. His hands were snaking down her back to her waist , and Arya felt him clutch her dress in his big hands and easily pull it over her body.

As soon as she did that, Arya licked her lips. She was bare now, almost. When Gendry moved to kiss her again, Arya let him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pushing herself against him as much as she could. She heard him groan softly against her lips as he made her part her lips and tasted her tongue. Arya's body was filling up with heat.

The kisses stopped when Gendry's hand went below her smallclothes and rested over her breasts. Arya pulled her lips off of him when she felt him squeeze her gently. She gasped and looked at him with wide eyes.

Gendry had stopped. He meant to pull his hand away from her teat, but Arya instantly grabbed his hand and pushed herself against him, at the same time kissing him harshly on the mouth.

Gendry was still hesitant, but as Arya kept kissing him and guiding his hand from one teat to another, Gendry's kisses became more confident. Arya left his mouth for a moment to catch her breath, and Gendry took the opportunity to open his mouth.

"I love you," he whispered.

Arya froze. Gendry had leaned down to kiss the valley between her breasts and was now running his tongue over it.

"I love you," he repeated, and proceeded to kiss down her chest to her stomach, and she felt a flip in her tummy. He softly touched the scar that was forming on the side of her abdomen, and the ones that had always been there: now silver. Arya would've stopped her heart at that moment if she could. Her hands stopped moving, and her body and her mouth and everything.

This man had been her best friend and companion and so much more, and she was betraying him like he meant nothing to her.

"Stop," she mumbled. It hurt her to say those words because she was the one who had started this. He had been nothing but kind to her; perhaps sometimes a little stupid but Arya knew that Gendry loved her. He would never have said those words if he didn't.

Gendry looked up at her and stood up straight. He was not only taller, but bigger too. He towered over her as if she was a little mouse. He had made her feel protected because of that, all those years ago.

"I shouldn't have done that," Gendry said after a few moments of staring at her face. His voice was filled with regret. Arya could not look at his eyes, knowing that what she would say would break his heart and perhaps ruin their friendship.

"Gendry," she whispered. Arya cursed Jon inwardly. This was all because of him. She wanted to forget him, and that was why she had let Gendry go on. It was all Jon's fault. If only he would leave her head.

"You love me," Arya said. When she looked at him finally, she found him already staring at her. Arya remembered her nakedness and clutched her arms tight around herself.

"I love you as well," she confessed, and dreaded the next words that would come out of her mouth. "But not in the way you want me to. You're family, Gendry. You're pack. But you're not-"

She stopped. She heard Gendry's sharp intake of breath. He stopped for minute and then he was pulling his hair tightly with his fingers. He paced away from her with hard steps.

"What the fuck do you want, Arya?"

His voice was harsh and angry.

"You're the one who kissed me first. Why would you do that if you think I'm family?"

"I don't know why I did. I wanted to, I just-"

"You're selfish," Gendry shouted at her. "You led me on knowing that this would happen. You love me? How the fuck do you love me, Arry? As a brother? Do you put your tongue in your brothers' mouths?"

Arya closed her eyes again. She did not want to say anything to him. He wouldn't understand, and he would know if she lied. He always has. But Arya did not know how to explain to him what was going on in her head, when she herself did not understand it.

"You're my family," she repeated again. "I'm sorry, Gendry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I did not know that you loved me in that way."

"How else can you love a person you want to kiss, Arya?" Now, he sounded tired. Arya wanted to take them back to the moment he'd entered her room. She should have hugged him and then told him to go. But maybe she was selfish.

"I don't know," she said in exasperation. She pulled up her cloak and wrapped it around herself. "Leave, Gendry."

"I'm not for you to order as you please, M'lady."

For the first time, she heard disgust in his voice when he called her that. Gendry walked away from her and left, and Arya knew that it was the end of something, like that day when he had refused to come with her to Winterfell. But this- she had a feeling- would be permanent.

Arya locked the door behind him and instantly her fist came in contact with the callous stone wall. She hit it till her fingers bled and till she was out of breath. Tears had stained her cheeks. She sat down on the cold floor and laid her head back against the door. She hated being the person that destroyed everything, but she seemed to leave nothing but sadness in her wake. Jon was angry at her, Sandor had died because of her and now she had lost her best friend. She hated crying, too. But sometimes she had no choice.

Arya sat there for hours, toying with the hilt of Needle. She wanted to sleep, but it wouldn't come. She closed her eyes, again. In vain.

Sister.

Arya sighed. Bran had the most uncanny timing, but Arya was thankful. She was getting used to talking to him this way, especially during the night when none of them seemed to fall asleep easily.

"Can I come and talk to you in person?" She asked him.

I'm in the Godswood.

Arya stood up.

"Are you out of your mind?" She fastened her cloak on, and opened the door. "You'll freeze to death. Come back inside."

Bran didn't say anything back, but Arya had already descended the steps down to the yard. She rushed as fast as she could to the Godswood. The snow was thicker and it was hard to walk, and with each second that passed, Arya felt the chill creep inside her furs. Her face was numb. She would kill Bran for this.

She saw his silhouette from afar. The moonlight was bright, and the Godswood eerily silent. No sounds of wolves or shadowcats or even ravens. Arya didn't know where Nymeria was either, and Ghost had possibly left with Jon.

Arya saw him, crouched, under the Heart Tree: one hand touching the bark with the sticky, red sap. Arya had seen magic as a child: Beric and his sword and then in the House of Black and White. She was a warg herself. But Bran's magic was something different. It had made her little brother so strong and wise, but at the same time Arya could see nothing but death and sorrow in Bran's eyes. Like he had seen things that were too much for a boy.

"Bran," she called out loud enough to be heard by him. Arya clutched her cloak tighter. Her furs didn't help her at all.

Bran's back was to her and Arya put a hand on his shoulder when he did not seem to hear her. But as soon as she did, her body felt a terrible coldness, like she was freezing from inside out. Arya's vision blurred and everything went white.

Their was ice and ice as far as she could see. At first, she was standing under the Heart Tree, the crimson leaves falling all around her swiftly. But they froze as soon as they touched the ground, turning into chunks of ice.

Then she saw another tree, but she knew that it wasn't their Heart Tree. It was bigger, and its branches longer. And the eyes were different. The wind was strong, so strong that Arya was almost swept off her feet. She held on to the trunk and closed her eyes.

She called for Bran, but she was alone. When she looked at her hands, they were covered in blood.

Sister.

She turned, relieved to hear Bran but it wasn't him. It was someone else. A man with blue skin and eyes and armour made of pale ice. She remembered Jon describing him once, and she remembered the words as clear as day.

The King.

"Bran," she whispered as the man touched her cheek with a finger, cutting through her skin like a knife through butter. Arya felt the blood and sting and also how it froze on her skin. She was shivering and shaking and all the courage had left her body. When the man withdrew his hand, Arya's knees hit the ground and she collapsed with a thud, seeing black.