Hey folks! so sorry this chapter is posted so late later the last one. As a theater person i never know exactly how crazy my schedule will become, and this month it was insane!

Some notes: early versions of airplanes had to have their propellers started manually before taking off.

Gendry and Arya are breaking a lot of rules, but what is a story with these two if there isn't some rule breaking, am i right?

These are the corresponding French translations to all the fruits mentioned, but if i have made a mistake feel free to let me know in the reviews. The chapter is short, but i have more Jon and Sansa stuff coming in the next one and it will be lengthy i am sure. if you would like to leave a review it is always greatly appreciated. I love hearing from my readers :) Enjoy! - FlamingRose

December 6, 1917, Rural outskirts of Paris

"Le Pomme," Gendry repeated as he held the apple in front of his face. Arya sat across from him, a bowl of fruit between them. It was late in the mess hall, way past dinner, but their friend—who went by Hot Pie- let them spend time in the mess when everyone was gone to conduct French lessons. This way, they could speak freely without being interrupted or overheard. Arya had been giving Gendry late night lessons for almost a whole month, and he had yet to take her up in a plane. She was learning the mechanics and she had sat in the plane once, but never gone up. She was starting to wonder if she ever would.

"Good," Arya said without looking up. Her head sunk from its place on her hand to the crook of her elbow. She was sure it was well past midnight. They should have been asleep. They'd have to rise at four the next morning.

"Hey hey, don't fall asleep. I'm nowhere near where I'd like to be on this," Gendry said as he swatted at her.

"I don't see why I can't just keep translating for you."

"Because you won't always be here. What if one of us is on a mission and the other stays behind? How will I communicate? I need to learn the language."

"I'm tired, Waters," Arya complained, "can't we just go to bed?"

"Bed?" Gendry said with a lilt of his voice.

"I didn't mean together and you know it," Arya mumbled from behind her sleeve, her head still down on the table.

"We'll have to fix that." Gendry mumbled after a moment. Arya's head shot up. She found Gendry staring fixedly at the apple in his hand, a crease between his eyebrows. He was thinking hard about something, and to her relief it wasn't what she thought it was.

"Fix what?" she said, hiding her initial surprise behind what she hoped was a cool expression.

"I don't think it's fair that you can refer to me by my last name but I don't even know your real first name."

Arya sighed. It was true. He was already doing her a huge favor by allowing her to send letters under his name. He never asked who she wrote to. He never asked to read what she wrote. He gave her complete privacy and the benefit of the doubt. She could have been a German spy for all he knew, but he trusted her all the same. He deserved her name at least.

"You can't tell anyone," she said.

"I know. I already promised."

"Even if you want to take it back."

"Even if I want to take it back."

"Even if—"

"Oh just tell me already dammit!" he said exasperated.

"Alright," She said, "My name is Arya Stark." Gendry's eyebrows shot up.

"Stark? The millionaire steel tycoon? That Stark?" His breathing became noticeably quicker.

'This is why I didn't want to tell you," Arya said as she stifled a yawn.

"I've been cursing in front of you, saying crude things, and you're a society gal. Sorry—society lady."

"I am not!"

"You're a Stark, of course you are." Arya sent a swift kick to his shin under the table.

"That wasn't very lady like." Arya groaned in frustration as she got up from the table.

"Arya come on," Gendry said between his stifled laughter. He got up from the table to catch up to her. He stopped her with one hand on her arm and spun her around.

"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you'd send me right back," She blurted, "And after all the work I had done to get into the Flying corps I wasn't going to go back home. I need to be here. If that meant getting rid of my name and identity I was going to do it."

"I wouldn't have sent you back—I don't think. Well, I don't know. I'm sure your family is facing a bit of a scandal right now. But I gave you my word. I won't oust you, and the fact you are a Stark doesn't change that. Your secret is still safe with me." Arya relaxed and took a deep breath. She nodded and let go of a small smile as she saw the truth in his eyes. She could trust him. Gendry was one of the most trustworthy people she knew, aside from Jon perhaps.

"Besides, now that I know who you are it makes a lot more sense as to why you know so much French. Now can we get back to the lesson? I still have to name grapes and blueberries."

"I'm still tired, Waters," Arya complained, though her moment of frustration had woken her up a bit.

"Well then I guess I won't finally take you up in the aircraft today, Stark." Arya perked up at the statement. What she'd been waiting for was so close.

"Could we fly at night?" Arya asked.

"If you get through this bowl of fruit with me, then yes." Arya rushed back to the table and swung her legs over the bench. Gendry smiled at how she nearly bounced in her seat waiting for him to return to the table. She was so easily revitalized. He wondered if she ever got tired—truly tired.

"So these are?" Arya said quickly holding up the grapes.

"Les raisins," Gendry answered.

"And these?" she held up a handful of blueberries.

"Myrtilles," Gendry said with a triumphant smile. He reached out for a couple of berries, but Arya snatched her hand away and popped two in her mouth.

"Hey!" Gendry exclaimed indignantly. Arya ate another.

"Come on Stark!" he said lunging across the table. She was much too quick for him. She was up and on the other side of the table in seconds. She popped one more blueberry in her mouth.

"You'll have to catch me Waters!" she called across the mess hall before dashing out the door. Gendry followed in pursuit. Arya was quick and quiet, possibly the stealthiest soldier Gendry had ever come across. If it wasn't for her shadow darting in and out of the moonlight he wouldn't have been able to see her. The camp was quiet aside from the almost indiscernible footsteps of the two young people. He could hear her laughter in and out of the air like tiny bells, almost as if she was not human at all but woodland sprite. She would be something so ethereal and mischevious, Gendry mused as he ran. They were soon at his plane and Arya stood rooted to the spot in front of the left wing holding out her hand. Gendry stopped in front of her cupping both of his hands under hers and she dumped the remaining berries into them. He ate them quickly before she changed her mind. It was a worthwhile reward. Then again, seeing her cheeks flush in the moonlight could have been reward enough. Arya was pretty, though he could tell she didn't think so—at least she didn't give it much thought, but he wouldn't tell her. That would be asking for death. Or at least serious injury.

"Alright Arya," he said quietly, "Go to the propeller," She smiled broadly and ran to the front of the plane waiting for Gendry's cue. Gendry made his way into the plane and gave the motor a start. He signaled with his hand and Arya pulled down the propeller with all her might. As it spun she ran to the plane and jumped in.

"Strap in!" Gendry called to her. As she did the plane began to lurch forward. She could feel her heart in her throat and her smile was unstoppable though she was sure her face would freeze in place. She didn't care. She gasped as she felt the plane lift off the ground and almost left her stomach behind. The plane gained altitude and she watched the ground as it became more and more vast beneath her. The wind in her hair became an overwhelming sound on its own, almost as loud as the plane. It was the most incredible feeling she could have ever imagined. She never dreamed she could find this feeling on earth. She was flying. She was as high as the birds going towards the stars. She was free.

Gendry heard Arya's peals of laughter and cries of excitement as he glided the plane over fields and trees. Her whoops and yells would wake an entire camp, but he let her get as loud as she wanted. Up here, no one could hear them. It's why he loved the skies so much. No one could hear his laughter, cries, screams, whatever guttural sounds possessed him were drowned out by the wind and the motor. Up here, he was free to feel and be whatever it is he wanted. There was nothing like it, and he was happy to see Arya felt the same. She would be an incredible pilot. Better than him, perhaps. Better than most for sure.

After what Arya was sure was too short a time, Gendry landed the plane and steered it back into its place. He and Arya got down from it and snuck their way back into the camp. The sky was becoming a lighter shade of blue signaling the rising of the sun.

'That was amazing," Arya whispered to him as they made their way to their tent, "absolutely amazing."

"It is, isn't it?" Gendry said almost reverently.

"When do I get to fly, Gendry? When?" she asked eagerly. They stopped right outside her tent that she shared with Hot Pie.

"Soon," he replied, "now that I know how you take to it, how natural you seem to feel up there, I'd say in almost no time at all."

'Then I better get some sleep. At least pretend to sleep. Who could sleep after something so exhilarating as flying?" She gushed. She darted to her tent and turned around to smile and wave quickly at Gendry before disappearing inside. Gendry stood outside her tent for a moment, his hand up in mid wave, his smile small but soft.

'Who could indeed," he said softly to himself before turning to make his way to his own tent. Soon, he'd have to be up and awake to face the day. The sun would come too soon. If only he could still be up in the clouds.