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The aftertaste of pear wine clings onto Arya's tongue. She nips down instinctively.
Sweltering, smoking heat billows from the forge, and Gendry walks into another section, finishing up the repairs on the helms, smearing the ash on his forehead with his wrist. She emerges from the darkness as he tugs off his smock, cracking his neck.
"Where've you been?"
"Visiting Bran," Arya drawls, resting a hand to Needle's pommel. Her voice flat. "Why's that your concern?"
That's the wrong way to go about it, she realises too late.
Gendry bristles after a silent moment, his face twisting up. "Suppose it's not—" he's interrupted by Arya swooping in, her mouth sealing over his, groaning and opening himself to a deeper, frantic kiss. Gendry's hands slide up her waist, feeling the ridges of her leather-jerkin and Arya's slim form. She groans with him, pawing Gendry's back, leaning towards Gendry mouthing over her jaw and neck, suckling lightly.
Two of the guards eye her.
He must have noticed, because Gendry leads her back towards the front-entrance.
"Out in the open like that, Arry?" he pants. The coldwater-blue of his eyes slit away to black. Arya remembers that best the first time Gendry had been inside her.
"We weren't going to remain a secret for long."
"Who else knows?"
"Bran." Arya makes a low, aggravated noise, rubbing her nose. "Bran knows everything there is to know regardless."
"What is it? Something's wrong."
"How do you think…" she trails off, glimpsing the dubious look, "You're a stupid bullheaded boy, that's what's wrong." Despite the insult, Gendry laughs and embraces her, Arya's head nudging to his chest. She braces herself for the inevitable. "Bran said we were having a daughter…"
Gendry's first thought is to scoff. "That's not… you're not pregnant."
"How would you know?"
"… … you're serious…" Arya thinks it's like staring at a wayn fall apart under increasing pressure. Gendry runs his fingers over his cheeks, wide-eyed. "Hells… did you go to the maesters?"
"You don't seem happy."
"Neither do you."
"My list isn't done," she explains, frowning. "Cersei's not dead. The Mountain's not dead."
"Why does it matter?"
"Gendry, you know why I say the words—"
"Aye," Gendry says, furrowing his brows. "I heard you muttering your gods-damned list, night after night, for over a year. I probably started reciting it too in my sleep." He hasn't let her go, gripping her sides, but Arya doesn't want him to. She wants him to understand. "Now there's something you can live for. Besides killing folk."
"I'm not letting anything stand in the way," Arya declares, emptying herself of any more self-doubt.
"Arya, please, I am asking you…" Gendry's warm, strong hands relocate to her face, cradling her, keeping their eyes locked. "Think about it. Think about her if she's real," he whispers. Arya nods, clasping over and thumbing Gendry's bare wrists.
"I am," she insists, soft and harsh together. "A world with Cersei Lannister in it… isn't a world worthy of my blood."
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GoT isn't mine. YALL ASKED FOR MORE! YOU GOT MORE! I'm willing to do more chapters to this and post this wekeend, but I wanna hear you guys tell me you want it. You are all my biggest motivator for this. Tell me in a comment. I am so excited to know what you think.
This was requested by damn near everyone on FFN and AO3 but more specifically: horntailblue (AO3), ilikethis (AO3), AngelBells (AO3), Kelly (AO3), babycakesbriauna (AO3), TheSeekerofLife (AO3), LadyKlarolineBethylLightwood (FFN), Guest (AO3), AnonyomusPseudonymous (FFN), msninabonita4 (AO3), Luiza Moura (FFN), Raiza-chan (FFN) and a big shoutout to themirrorminder.372259 (FFN) for giving me specific prompts for this. I was gonna go a different direction but I love this more.