I'm not a lady. I never have been. That's not me.

Arya had never dreamed of being a fair maiden like Sansa had. She'd rather be a knight and fight for what's right like her brothers were trained to do. She was born a girl, and she grew up for eleven years with the same training as Sansa, but lacking the skill and desire to embroider flowers. Jon and their father, Ned, humored her with her own sword and dancing lessons, but she saw her future as bleak.

She wished to bring her parents back from the dead, but their deaths spurred her into action to retaliate against those who would hurt those she loved most. She lived with a single desire, and that was to kill everyone on her list.

The only one that even attempted to break her steely exterior was Gendry. He didn't even do it on purpose. He stood by her from the start, initially treating her like a little brother, but the kind of brother who could see right through her facade. When she told him she was Arya Stark, daughter of Ned Stark, at first she thought he seriously was sorry if he'd offended her. Then she punched him, and he began to tease her. She'd stormed off, but part of her couldn't shake the feeling that things between them were starting to change.

Arya began to admire not only his mind but his body. His eyes were so beautiful that Arya thought she could get lost in them. She wouldn't dare tell him that she liked him, though. Romance was only for girls like Sansa. Arya had more important things to do. The best Arya could do was offer to be a member of Gendry's family. He looked at her so tenderly as he replied, "You wouldn't be my family. You'd be My Lady."

For once in her life, Arya didn't know what to say. She was the ugly little sister who should've been a little brother. Did Gendry think of her in a romantic way? Like the princes in Sansa's songs?

Being rid of Gendry actually helped Arya succeed in her many missions. She ticked off several people from her list, whether by her own hand or someone else's. She mastered the art of fighting and bowed down to the Many-Faced God. A Girl had no name until it was prudent to take her name and identity back. Arya Stark of Winterfell was a killer, and she was going home.

Getting closer to Winterfell made her wish for her family. Jon, Robb, Bran, Rickon. Even Sansa. There was someone else in that lineup that she wanted to include. But include in a different way. She wanted her family back, of course, but she still considered Gendry her family. Not a brother, though. She ached for him in ways she had to hide from the world. Gendry was her weakness.

Arya didn't want Jon to be King. He would've been a good king, but like she wasn't a lady, Jon wasn't meant to be the King of Westeros. King in the North, King Beyond the Wall, but the people of Westeros weren't the kind who would look to him as a leader. After they all decided he would "Take the Black," Arya and Sansa discussed it further. He didn't deserve to not find happiness one day. He'd given so much of himself and saved Westeros from a Mad Queen. He might not ever find love again like he'd found with the girl, Ygritte, but if he went north to join the Free Folk, he'd have the opportunity. They'd never see him again.

She didn't think she'd ever see Bran or Sansa again, either. She was headed west. She was going to find her new family like Nymeria had. She missed her Dire Wolf, a comforting touchstone when things started changing in her life. But they hadn't gotten to spend their lives together like Jon and Ghost had. Ghost was waiting for Jon at the Wall with that odd Giantsbane man.

Having spent most of her life alone, Arya was ready to continue her journey. But something kept itching her at the back of her neck. Nothing was there, but something was telling her to turn back. She'd told herself numerous times that there was nothing left for her in Westeros.

That's not true.

The salty air on her face was refreshing, and her journey was going to be the journey of a lifetime. She'd left her family in good hands. Jon north of the Wall, Sansa Queen in the North, and Bran the Broken, ruling the six kingdoms. Gendry would get any assistance he needed at Storm's End with Sansa and Bran. They'd both promised to help him. As did Brienne and Sam. He wouldn't be alone. He'd have his family, finally. He'd marry and build his own family filled with dark haired, starry-eyed children.

It wouldn't be worth anything if you weren't with me.

Arya rubbed at the itch in the back of her neck. It was still there, and not going anywhere. It would go away eventually. She could stop thinking about him if she wasn't around him. Maybe he'd been the wrong person to sleep with. She didn't think she still had feelings for him. They'd both changed so much in the years they were apart, both growing in skill and drive. But when she kissed him, she hadn't expected her breath to whoosh out of her and her mind to go fuzzy. All she wanted was to know what sex was like, but with Gendry it was different than she'd expected.

He'd only ever slept with three women. He was an attractive man who could take care of himself at the smithy. He could make decent money. Why wasn't he going to brothels more? That part of him certainly wasn't inherited from his fat, philandering father.

She wasn't a ticklish person, but what little shadow he had on his face had tickled her neck in a delicious way. She continued to rub the spot that he'd focused on as she tried to erase the memory, but it wasn't working.

Before she'd left, she and Sansa had talked. She'd asked Sansa to help Gendry. Sansa didn't try to convince her sister to stay where she wouldn't be happy, but she did say something that resonated with her.

Mother always told me that she and father didn't love each other when they first got married. Love grew out of respect. I never had respect for Ramsey. I could never love him, especially after what he did to all of us. I respected Tyrion because he respected me. I might have been able to grow to love him had I not escaped King's Landing. You respect Gendry more than you will ever let on. It isn't a bad thing to share your life. You were never completely alone. You always had friends. Some friends are just better than others. Some friends become your family. Don't be a lone wolf all your life."

It was too late now. She was headed west. He was at Storm's End. It was how things needed to be.

As the sun went down, Arya turned away from the water to return to her bunk. It had been a stressful several days. She'd like to get some sleep where she didn't need to worry about anything except actual sleep. Had she gotten a good night's sleep since she was a child? Probably not.

Go Home, Girl.

Sandor had told her that. Told her not to live a life filled with revenge. She didn't have a home anymore. The world would be her home. As she walked down the stairs, she bumped into someone, but said nothing.

"Begging your pardon, Milady."

Arya paused. She couldn't turn around. He wouldn't have followed her, would he? She felt pressure building up in her chest, and she wasn't sure she could bear it if it wasn't him. But dressed in her leathers, she wasn't exactly feminine. Who else would think of her as a girl, let alone a lady?

She turned only slightly, willing herself to just let it go, but she couldn't. The itch on the back of her neck was urging her to turn.

"I didn't think you liked boats." Arya still didn't look.

"This is less a boat and more of a ship. Less work for me to do."

"Are you sure about that?"

"How much work are you going to have me to, milady?" There was a smile in his voice, and Arya knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was him.

"Don't you have a kingdom to run?" Arya finally turned, head cocked coyly to the side, hands clasped behind her back. She looked him up and down.

He wore black leathers studded with silver, and a silver crown of antlers. He didn't look like a boy who was playing make believe. It suited him.

"Funny thing about kingdoms. You can find someone you trust to run things in your absence."

"Why would you be absent?"

"We don't know what else is out there. What kind of people, different kinds of places. I never dreamed of going anywhere or doing anything until I met you."

He didn't move from his spot on the stairs. He gazed down at her so tenderly that Arya's chest tightened again. '"Figured now would be as good a time as any to see what the world had to offer. Maybe learn a thing or two to take home with me." He paused. "Or keep going."

Arya knew what he was doing. "You're giving up Storm's End."

"I'm finally joining my family." He corrected. "The people of Storm's End are kind. They welcomed me, but it wasn't where I needed to be." He took a seat on the stairs, where he was finally eye to eye with her. "I'm not going to ask you to marry me again. But I'm also not going to take back that I love you. I really do and always have."

Arya shook her head. "I told Sansa to help you become the Lord you were meant to be. You can't just give it all up."

"Sansa taught me some things, yes. I can now use a fork without embarrassing myself at court. But she also encouraged me not to give up hope." He cleared his throat when Arya's face was clouded in fear. "You once told me you could be my family, and I'm asking if you still mean it. If you don't, I'll just head back to Storm's End, and none of this ever happened. I'll wish you well on your journey, and try not to drown myself in utter shame."

The corners of Arya's mouth perked up slightly, but she couldn't hide it. Not from him. Not from this handsome man she'd seen grow up. This man who helped her when no one else believed in her. If things had been different, in another world, they might have known each other all their lives. But they could continue their lives side by side. Exploring the great unknown.

The itching and prickling on her neck started to dissipate, and suddenly it was all Arya could do to keep her hands from him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, so soft almost a brush. He didn't immediately kiss her back, but waited for an actual answer. She'd almost fooled him once before. That wouldn't happen again.

"I'm not going to be your lady."

"Not in public." He grinned, as he looked at her mouth, willing her to kiss him again.

She couldn't keep herself from him, granting his request.