I blended their separation from the books (Arya running and getting nabbed by the Hound with someone screaming after them in the distance), and the shows (aka Gendry was sold sometime after that).

Gold and silver. Two colors that not only complement but belong together. There's no crown that weighs heavy on Gendry's head, but his lord title holds him in place. He stands at the edges of Flea Bottom, recalling a past that was ages ago. A whole lifetime for some. More than one life has ended within the poorest part of the city since then. Some he used to know. Now Gendry finds himself standing on the edge of his home. Nails dig into the fine fabric of his new, fancy garbs. His former home.

She's there, in the heart of Flea Bottom. Gendry can see her crouched down, treating a child's wound. A gaggle of kids surrounds her as she explains the way of the world in her curt fashion. The young lord can imagine her words. Arya's unique phrasing was not something he could ever forget. He's never been able to push anything about the youngest Stark daughter from his mind. She was always there, dancing around the edges of his thoughts. Sometimes in her acorn dress, most of the time as Arry, the filthy. However, the image that haunts his nightmares the most is her silhouette. A shade outlined by distant torches long behind her as she runs. and is snatched up into the night. High above the distance, she could jump.

Gendry found himself leaving the brotherhood soon after.

With sure footing, Gendry walks across the threshold of flea bottom. He knows he never stepped on a stick, or hay, or anything else that could make a sound, yet the moment he plants his foot on Flea Bottom ground, Arya's head snaps to look in his direction. Her silver eyes are unkind as she assesses him. If that look was supposed to discourage him, she will be disappointed to learn that it has the opposite effect.

Even as he approaches her his mind still worries. It paces within his skull, reminding him of what happened the last time they spoke. How it led to her bedding him and then leaving with the morning wind without a word.

Now she plans to leave again.

"You're leaving tomorrow."

"I am." She spits out her words as if his statement was a challenge. Arya's never been one to back down from a fight. Her glare fixes itself on the clasps of his cloak. What's it to you? Undoubtedly that's her question, and she'll never know just how important she is to him. He can begin to show her, right here and right now. The children make space for him, but they still enclose the pair. A human fence. He never thought she would get along with kids this well. Then again with her height, they may be mistaking her for one of them. Gendry chides himself and bites his tongue. If Arya could hear his thoughts she would strike him down dead. He almost delights in the thought of seeing her swing steel again.

"May I join you?" If he joins her he'll have many a chance too.

"Last time I checked Baratheon lords aren't masters of the sea." Her eyes narrow. If she closes them anymore she won't be glaring, she'll be resting with a great big frown on her face. Just like she had back in Winterfell.

"I don't wish to master it. I want to travel." He risks lifting up his left hand. She doesn't flinch or moves away as he cups her cheek. "With you." With a gentle grasp, he rubs his thumb right under her eye.

"The boy just gained his title, and now he wishes to abandon his lands." Her sharp tongue stings more than her smacking his hand away.

Desperation and a pounding heart chase his dignity down deep into his chest. Far away to where his head and heart couldn't hear. He clasps his hands around hers. "The majesties can give the lands to another. The title too, I want to join you."

"Why?" Her eyes falter, and her words grow soft. Softer than her body had felt all those months ago in the middle of the war. She can't believe anyone would want to be beside her. Whatever has caused her to think herself unworthy of loyalty doesn't matter. He'll keep swimming against that current, like a salmon going upstream.

"I want to be with you."

Her grey eyes repeat her question. Breathless, and unsure of what to say, Arya holds her head high. She'll never back down from a fight, even when there's no harm in losing.

"You're a lord now." He shrugs. It makes no difference. The title, and the lands, were all handed to him. He thought they would relieve him of that deep sense of unworthiness. She breathes slowly through her nose. A huff slips out, and Gendry allows himself a grin. They didn't. It was Arya seeking him out that buried those fears deep beneath the snow. For a time. He knows they will bear their teeth again. Forever he will be battling them off, but they're quieter when she's near.

"I could be a sailor with you." Arya sighs but he could see that smile on her lips. It's faint but there.

Bran once said that their fathers wanted to unite their houses. Starks, and Baratheons. There are a hundred different reasons why a union should be made, but only one matters to Gendry. That she wants him with her. Around her. Working beside her, cleaning the ship with the sailors, and testing her food for poison. Swinging his hammer around to protect her people as she does the same with her sword. Her new needle. Gendry would give it all up just for a chance to allow the silver wolf to stand on top of a field of gold. To be near her.

"Just give me the order." Gendry holds his breath as Arya pulls her arms behind her back.

"Then, leave it all behind," and Gendry does. He takes more than a few bags of coins from the Storm Lord's treasury for trade, relinquishes his title, and lands, and lastly hands in the last of the formal documentation. A maester handled most of the work. In the end, all they needed from Gendry was a signature, and to deliver it himself. No one aside from the Onion Knight tried to stop him. If anything they were happy to see the unworthy bastard come to realize his true worth. On the deck of Arya's new ship, Gendry settles his hands against the railing. She was worth it. He wants to believe he deserves this. Even with his fears quieted he can not bring himself to be so bold as of yet. At least she seems happy as they start setting sail. She's smiling, and Gendry finds himself ready to support her. In the roughest waters, he will keep her feet steady. He'll let her be the grey wolf that she is, on as many fields of gold as they can sail to.

Silver and gold.

This was requested by an anon of tumblr who sent: "Hi, could you do a fanfic about Gendry leaving his position to join Arya? Thank you!"