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But Gendry had known deep down he would go. He was his own worst enemy, he knew that as well. He figured his heart was already broken and had been given to her a long time before so it might as well get stomped on a bit more. There was also a part of him that clung on to a whisper of hope that she'd changed her mind now she had her list finished and would return with him to Storms End. Whether as his wife or his friend, as long as she wasn't gone entirely. And as long as she didn't marry another.
He wondered what Ned Dayne was doing. No doubt he would be sniffing round now, as he had before when they had been travelling under the Brotherhood.
The anger and jealousy began to build in the pit of his stomach. He had despised the Lord of Starfall for trying to cost up to Arya, claiming kinship through her brother Jon.
Pathetic. Gendry thought.
As pathetic as asking her to marry you?
The voice asked inside his head before laughing bitterly at him. He couldn't place the mans voice but knew he had heard it somewhere.
His kicked the nearest rock he could find but realised too late it was not a rock but a foot covered in ash.
He crouched low and put his head into his hands. He had promised himself he wouldn't do this, wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him.
He gave himself a minute to compose himself before standing and brushing off any dirt or dust that he could find and headed for the Stark banner. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could leave.
Gendry didn't bother to wait to be announced, he strode straight past the solitary guard sat by the tent. He wasn't to be summoned. Not anymore. Not by her and not by anyone. Except the King, he supposed as an after thought. But not by her. Princess or no princess. Ha, serves her right. She didn't want to be a lady, not my lady, now she's stuck being a princess.
He knew it was childish of him to try and harvest some sort of satisfaction from what he knew would cause her great anger and annoyance, but he couldn't help it.
He hadn't felt this angry since that night, when she had broken his heart and stamped on his hope.
Arya had made her feelings for him as clear as the sea when she had left him and gone to Kingslanding with Sandor Clegane.
Arya was sat at a table surrounded by scrolls, and didn't look up from the one she was examining. Instead she spoke softly, "You suit it, you know. I told you that you would."
Taken off guard by the softness of her time, he tilted his head and took a moment to reply. Was this another one of her tricks, to lull him into thinking they were just Arry and Gendry?
"Why am I here?" He asked through gritted teeth. He tried to bury the anger that was threatening to explode. It had been bubbling for weeks, he had thought it was just all the confusion of the state of country, his fear that something had happened to Her. Now he knew it was all Her.
He had heard of his fathers temper and had vowed to be nothing like him. His mother and Master Mott has raised him better than that.
When she didn't answer, he took a deep breath and imagined hitting some steel in the forge instead of hitting the wooden pole helping to keep the tent up.
"Arya! Or are you too high and mighty now to answer to that? Perhaps I should be calling you Princess Arya?"
Although she wasn't facing him he could see her rolling her eyes and saw her hand grip her quill tightly. This only made him angrier.
"Perhaps I should kneel at your feet? Crave an audience with her Grace?" He knew his tone was bitter and aggressive as it got louder and he would regret it later on but he didn't care. It wasn't as if it could get any worse.
She would let him rant and rage. Better to get it out and let him despise her, maybe even hate her.
Then they could both take there leave of each other. He would go and be a great Lord, with Sansa's assistance from afar, and she could go and become No One. She had spoken with Bran and knew what he needed her to do.
"You really have changed. You're cold. You aren't the Arry I fell in love with. You aren't the girl I thought you were. You're just like the rest of them. Use the likes of me then drop us like shit in the street. You know, even your sister had the dignity and decency to speak to me today. You wouldn't even look at me! As if I meant nothing, was nothing. Clegane was right, you are a cold bitch!"
"You're problem is you're too fucking honest!" She shrugged in an attempt of nonchalance. The tears stung at the back of her eyes and the lump in her throat was becoming more and more painful. She thought of the sea, the gentle bobbing of boats and the hiss of the waves. Soon. Soon she will be amongst them and perhaps feel some sort of peace and clarity.
"My problem?!" He continued to shout, this time turning to face her. "I'm not the one who runs away at the first sign of someone giving a shit!"
"I get it Gendry, you're still pissed with me for leaving." She wouldn't look at him, not properly. For someone so used to causing pain and death, knowing she had made him this bitter made her feel physically sick.
"Pissed? That's putting it mildly! I tell you I love you and ask you to marry me and you fuck off to Kingslanding where you could have been killed! Look, it's fine if you don't care about me, I get that, people have fucked me over my whole life but you... you don't even care about yourself!"
Now it was time for her rage to spill over, her calm exterior thrown aside like one of her faces. She stood up to face him.
"I do care about you, you stupid-" she screeched but he interrupted her. She had never seen how icelike his eyes were before. Not like the Dead or the Night King but something more. Instead of being calmed by the blueness of the sea in his eyes, now she felt as if the water was coming to drown her.
"Yeah well not enough! Not enough to stay obviously!" He growled, throwing himself onto crate by the desk that was covered in maps and a plate of half eaten bread. He couldn't look at her.
"People die if they stay with me, don't you understand?" She spat back.
"People die in war, but all that's all done with now." He replied through clenched teeth, calming himself. Witnessing the fire in her eyes had calmed him,proven to him it hadn't all been one-sided. He hadn't imagined it. She did feel something.
"Is it? I've lost my parents, two brothers, my other two brothers are lost to me. Sansa doesn't need me now-
"Well have you ever thought that I might need you? I have no idea what I'm doing, I never wanted any of this!"
"Which is why you'll make a good Lord." She replies quietly sitting on the desk, her back to him. "You know how it feels to have nothing. You're one of the kindest men I have ever met. You're brave and smart. You will be a wonderful Lord because... well... you protect people, you make them feel they matter and they are safe." She tried to smile. She truly believed he would be a fair and just leader. How could he not?
"Just not you." It wasn't a question but his acceptance.
She smiled grimly.
"I didn't want to go without saying goodbye this time."
He let out a long sigh before he nodded slowly . "Where to this time?" Of course she was leaving him again.
"What's west of Westeros?"
He gave her a sweet, understanding smile. "Of course. The wolf cannot be tamed. Only you would go off in search of trouble after winning two wars. When do you leave?"
"Day after Bran's Coronation, if I can get a crew assembled in time." She replied swinging her legs back and forth.
So he had 15 days and 14 nights to persuade her. To make her see that she didn't have to leave. He wouldn't try to tame her. She could just be Arya.
He nodded slowly, taking it all in.
"I can give needle a check over if you like, before you go. I haven't been able to spend any time in a forge since I got to Storms End."
"That is very generous of you my Lord." She smiled, looking at him slyly through her eyelashes.
"Don't call me that-" he stopped himself and laughed.
"It's annoying isn't it ...my Lord." She grinned twisting her neck to see the frustration in his face.
"Yes,My Lady. Or is it Your Grace now? Should I bow?" He smiled back.
"Look at you. You look like a proper Lord. Where's my bullheaded blacksmith gone?"
"Here's still here." The mischievous grin dropped from his face and silence fell.
"I need to go and oversee the plans for travelling to Dragonstone. Had hoped I would t have to go back there. Again."
"I know." Her voice had softened to a whisper.
"Never thought I'd have to go there again."
They sat for a few minutes, listening to the jostling outside and the distant shouting of orders being given.
"Only thing is...I've already given the order to pack up my tent and my men to go on ahead...so I'll have to go with them, having nowhere to sleep tonight." He chewed his lip to stop himself smiling.
She turned so she was facing him and tilted her head in his direction .
"It won't change anything. If you stay with me tonight, I still plan on leaving."
Her plans were set. She couldn't afford to feel That again.
"No, but what's life if not for living? Come and find me...if you want to. I leave at sundown."
He stood up and walked towards the flap of the tent. He paused a moment then pulled it open and strode confidentially through it.
Arya looked to the ceiling, at the rough needlework that had pulled bits of the tent together. She sniffed and blinked the tear that threatened to fall before beginning to check the maps again. She would depart in a moons turn or less. A moons turn.That's all she had left to be Arya Stark.
A part of her hated him for leaving it to her to decide but couldn't blame him.
Feeling more alone than ever, she engrossed herself in her maps for the next few hours, making notes on scraps of parchment, crossing through previous notes she'd made. She couldn't concentrate. Damn him. She longed to be No One again. To feel nothing, to be nothing.
Sandor. Jon. Robb. Rickon. Bran. Father. Mother. All gone from her in one way or another. She sighed heavily and drank the last drops of wine from her cup. Her mind was made up.