"I don't want them to write songs about me." Arya huffed stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at Gendry where he leaned against the bass of the trunk of the tree she was sitting in.
Gendry shrugged and didn't look up from the knife he was running a whetstone over. The fact that he didn't glance up at her glare and appreciate it only made her glare at him harder. "You can not want it all you like doesn't mean they won't write them."
Arya blew out a breath of frustration that made the hairs that had escaped her bun puff up around her face. "Well they'll be stupid songs." she insisted, letting one of her legs drop off the branch she was huddled on so that the tip of her boot just nearly brushed Gendry's shoulder as he snorted.
"Sure. Songs about the woman who defeated the Night King will be stupid." Arya knew him well enough by now that she didn't need to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes.
"The bards shouldn't waste time writing about me." Arya insisted, now leaning forward on the tree branch in the hopes that she would be able to lean far enough forward to see Gendry's expression. No such luck. She sighed and leaned back against the trunk again. "They should write songs about what happened in King's Landing or their new king and queen."
"Why would they waste time on songs of tragedy when the story of Arya Stark is right there?" Gendry asked lightly and Arya looked down at the feel of his eyes on her. His blue eyes were brighter than the sea that surrounded Storm's End and she shifted uneasily under their gaze.
"You make it sound like I'm some sort of hero." Arya forced herself to laugh even though she didn't feel any humor in this situation. It had been nearly six moons since that dreadful night in Winterfell and sometimes when she swallowed, she could still feel the bone chilling grip of the Night King's fingers clenched around her throat. Her own fingers rose of their own accord to rub at the spot he had grabbed while she stared out at the sea far down the hill below them.
"You are a hero Arya." Gendry lightly pushed at her boot that was still dangling by his shoulder so that she would move it and he could get to his feet without knocking her off balance. Even standing on the flat ground he was almost eyelevel with her on her perch on the lowest tree branch. She knew she should have chosen a taller tree to rest in.
Gendry leaned his elbow on the branch beside her knee and Arya swallowed dryly. Touches from Gendry, even causal ones, had become few and far between since she had rejected his drunken proposal. She was still trying to find the words to tell him that just because she didn't want to be a lady didn't mean she didn't want to be with him. Besides, she had learned in the past fortnight she had spent in Storm's End that Gendry's idea of being a lord was unlike any highborn she had ever met. She'd already seen him out in fields twice, helping the people of Storm's End try to recover from the bitter cold of winter. She should have known being a lord wouldn't change Gendry but that night in the armory she had been too full of grief to see anything past it.
"You are a hero Arya." Gendry repeated, his eyes catching hers and refusing to let her go. Years of training herself to be Faceless, to be No One, were the only thing keeping the tug of her heart his gaze gave her off her features. "You're the only one who doesn't believe that."
Arya drew in a long breath before she dropped Gendry's gaze and shook her head. She was no hero. "One heroic act doesn't make me a hero." she whispered, her breath stopping in her lungs when Gendry moved his hand to lightly rest on her knee.
"Says who?" he asked curiously, before he shook his head at her. Arya looked up at him through her lashes surprised to see him almost smiling at her. "The songs seem to think you're a hero."
Groaning Arya shoved playfully at his chest, watching in surprise as Gendry caught her hand and pressed his own against it so that her hand was pinned between his palm and his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart against her fingertips.
"I think you're a hero." Gendry whispered and Arya could see the truth of it in his eyes. Seeing him looking at her like that made her stomach twist and bunch into knots. How could he possibly think that after everything she had done? How could he say such things to her after she had left him there on the docks of King's Landing? Her trip proved to be a short one as she was only four days at sea before she realized she had more pressing business in Westeros she needed to address before she could see the world. When she'd shown up at the docks of Storm's End Gendry had met her on the sea worn boards looking not at all surprised to see her. The thought both bothered and comforted her.
"If you knew what I'd done you wouldn't think that." Arya protested, her fingers curling into his chest ever so slightly. She wanted to enjoy this excuse to touch him for as long as she could. She knew she had lost the right when she broke his heart that night.
"It's because of what you've done that I think that." Gendry insisted and the conviction in his voice made Arya look up from their clasped hands to meet his eyes again. Sometimes when Gendry looked at her, she felt as though he was the only person who really saw the real her. She wasn't Arya of house Stark, she wasn't the slayer of the Night King, she wasn't Weasel, or Arry, or Cat, or Salty, or Nan, or Beth, or Mercy, or No One. In Gendry's eyes she was plain and simply, Arya.
It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
"I received a raven from Sansa this morning." Arya said lightly as if she wasn't blatantly trying to change the subject.
Gendry's brow wrinkled, whether at the sudden turn of conversation or the statement itself Arya wasn't sure. "Didn't know you told her you were here."
"I didn't." Arya admitted with a light shrug. She hadn't told any of her siblings she had returned to Westeros so quickly but she had expected it wouldn't be long before they reached out to her. The only surprise was that it hadn't been Bran with his apparent all-seeing knowledge. Then again, maybe that was how Sansa knew where to find her. Even as she thought it Arya knew it wasn't true. Sansa would not be starting her reign by accepting even the smallest favor from the king to the South, whether he was her little brother or not. Her older sister had always been quite resourceful, Arya had just been too blinded by childhood hatred to see it.
"Should I be worried of spies?" Gendry asked lightly, still not dropping his hand from hers. Arya curled her fingers in even more until she was gripping the edge of his cloak. She was surprised by how fervently she did not want to let go.
"Yes." Arya admitted with a nod causing Gendry to laugh at her forthrightness. She'd always loved making him laugh. It was such a rare occurrence that each laugh felt more valuable to her than ten gold dragons.
"Are you a spy?" Gendry asked lightly making Arya roll her eyes at him.
"Be a pretty shite one if I told you."
Gendry nodded in agreement to this before the grin slowly melted away into his more somber usual expression. "What does your queenly sister want?"
Arya held his gaze for as long as she could, knowing that once she said the words aloud she would have to make her decision. Even as she thought this Arya knew that's not the real reason she doesn't want to say it. She had made her decision the moment she'd read the letter. She had only wanted to prolong for as long as possible acting on the final directive at the bottom, right above her sister's new long fancy title.
Come at once.
She didn't know what would be stranger, watching others take orders from her sister or having to obey them herself.
Arya permitted herself two seconds to close her eyes. Two seconds to accept the fact that Gendry's face was going to change once she said the words, that he was going to drop her hand. That he was going to take this as the second rejection of his heart.
Opening her eyes, Arya forced the words out as she slightly loosened her grip on his cloak. There was no point in holding on to things she could never have. "Sansa's asked me to be the captain of her Queensgaurd."
Gendry blinked at her once, twice, as he absorbed this information. To her surprise he did not immediately drop his hand from hers, instead he squeezed it ever so slightly tighter as he gave her a small smile.
"Finally."
It was Arya's turn to blink at him in surprise and she tilted her head to look at him, certain she had heard him wrong.
"Who else was she going to ask?" Gendry rolled his eyes at her confused expression. "She left Brienne in the Capital to be her spy and who else would she trust to keep her safe but you?"
Her years of training hiding her true expression was the only thing that prevented her mouth from dropping open to gap at Gendry. As it was, she simply raised her eyebrows before admitting, "You might be better suited to this highborn nonsense than you think."
Gendry snorted and interlaced his fingers through hers as he watched her carefully. "When do you leave?"
"She wrote to come at once." Arya admitted, the words coming out so soft she knew Gendry had to strain to hear them. She was only just settling into life at Storm's End, she wasn't ready to leave it yet. But Gendry was right, if she didn't go to protect Sansa than who would? And there would be people to protect her from. People from the South unhappy about the North regaining its independence. Lords of every age from every house in Westeros trying to win the hand of the new beautiful young Queen. Arya had realized upon her return to Winterfell that her sister was much stronger than she would have thought her capable of but no one could protect themselves from every threat alone.
"It will be good." Gendry nodded again, his eyes searching her face like he was trying to memorize every part of her. "The two of you together again."
Arya let her eyes travel across his features slowly and unabashedly, drinking him in just in case this was the last time she ever saw him. She wanted to remember him this way; looking at her with care instead of watching her in heartbreak. Even though a small part of her hated to leave him she knew the truth of his words. She could hear her father's voice in her ear as she recited, "The lone wolf dies but the pack survives."
Gendry smiled at her softly and placed his other hand on top of the pile of their hands on his chest. "I was part of your pack once." he whispered softly, his eyes looking more like the sea than ever as he looked at her.
Arya leaned forward to place her other hand on his chest, not on the pile of their conjoined hands but directly over his heart. She could feel her own eyes burning with the intensity of her reply as she promised him, "You still are."
Westeros had always been a land whose history was told with songs. Songs of joy, songs of sorrow, songs of terribly awful things and songs of terribly wonderful things. As the years went on the songs would change, their original lyrics forgotten or embellished to create a better, more profitable, tale. Certain songs fit best at certain occasions, Florian and Jonquil was almost always sung at weddings, Jenny's song in times of sorrow. And on nights when the wind whipped the trees against each other and rain fell in heavy droves bards across the land would sing the song of the wolf woman who saved the world and the man she wed who never tried to tame her.