Chapter XXV: The Message from the South

With a sleepy Nymeria huddled near her feet, Arya sat with her back to Sansa's front. The red-haired sister was slowly untangling her unruly and messy hair. Arya held the Red Woman's necklace in her hand, the fading rubies heavy on her palm. She leaned back slightly against her sister and Sansa brushed through her hair with her fingers lovingly. The act was so familiar Arya had to try her hardest not to shed tears in the memory of her lady mother. She sighed softly, and the direwolf inched closer to her.

She was warm.

"You've looking at that for a while," Sansa said.

Arya faintly saw her face reflected on the red stones.

"It's not fair," she replied. "For some people to live unnaturally long when others die even before their time. Even Death is unfair."

Sansa hands paused, and Arya could hear her breathing accelerate.

"I don't think I ever said goodbye properly," her sister mumbled. "At the time, I was so excited and happy to go to the capital and get married to Joffrey, I don't think I said what I needed to to Robb and Mother and Bran and Rickon. And you," Sansa wrapped her arms softly around her. "I hated you so much without reason. I feel nothing but ashamed of my actions."

Arya turned around and held Sansa's hands, wiping the tears off her cheek.

"Come on now, you know I'm not good with crying."

Sansa laughed softly.

"The Maester told me I'd get more emotional in the coming months. Maybe it's already starting."

Arya rolled her eyes but offered a warm smile. She turned around and Sansa continued working with her hair, while Arya put away the necklace and just leaned back into Sansa's lap.

"Arya?"

"Hmm?"

"You and the blacksmith. Are you lovers?"

Arya choked. The act made Nymeria jolt awake and the wolf let out a whine at her mistress interruption her sleep. Arya mussed her fur.

"Who told you that?" She asked in barely a whisper.

"He keeps staring at you and you disappear during the day for hours, so I guessed maybe- Are you?"

Arya kept silent. It was hard to describe her and Gendry. They had kissed more than once, and she knew that she liked it, but he wasn't her lover. He was- Gendry and her best friend and she loved him. But love was too intimate, and love was not something she wanted to be associated with.

"You know he's still a blacksmith, right? And you're a Princess."

Arya frowned.

"Does it matter so much?"

"His status will never let him be with you. You should know that."

Arya sighed. Sansa would always be Sansa.

"It doesn't matter, Sansa. I am not going to marry him, or anyone." She rose up and headed towards the door. She could use some sword practicing. She reached out for the door and stopped.

"And Sansa," she smiled without looking at her. "I guess you don't know but his father was Robert Baratheon."

After her third defeat against the Hound, Arya finally raised her arms and backed away. The Hound smirked.

"I'm still twice your size, wolf girl."

"Shut up, Clegane." She snatched the wineskin from his hand and drank it up, only to cough it all out.

Sandor laughed like a maniac.

"I hate beer," she muttered, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"Then why'd you drink it?"

"I felt like it."

"Bitch."

"What did you say, dog?"

"Your smart mouth is still the same, ain't it?"

"And your ugly face is no better."

He snorted.

"Why do you even try? You can't fight with a sword with that figure of yours."

"Daggers aren't the best weapons in an open field. And Needle can't pierce through armour."

"Then we should continue until you give up." He picked up his longsword.

"You're a shit teacher, Hound."

"Stop talking and fight, wolf bitch."

Arya smirked.

Night had almost fallen.

A shiver ran up her spine when she stood beside the weirwood tree and she could swear she heard the face whispering in her ear. The leaves rustled in the cold wind and Arya flushed. It was getting colder, and colder. Winter was here, but she could only guess how harsh this winter would be.

Her hand was clasped almost forcefully.

"You put yourself in danger."

Arya turned around.

"Why? You're my friend. I can meet you anytime I want. It's you who is making a fuss about it."

"Im not- You don't understand, milady."

"Then make me understand," she challenged.

Gendry sat down on the snow with a sigh.

"I thought this wasn't supposed to happen more than once," he whispered.

Arya bit her lip.

"What? Me kissing you?"

He groaned.

"Don't say it out loud."

Arya laughed.

"There's no one here, silly bull." She touched his hair. It was sweaty. "And don't jump to conclusions. I'm not here to kiss you."

"Then why are you here, Princess?" He asked sarcastically and received a punch in the shoulder.

"I told you, idiot. You're my only friend here."

Gendry looked up at her. It was getting darker and she couldn't make out his features properly, but she didn't really need to. She had memorized his face long ago.

Arya held his face and leaned down, kissing him full on the mouth.

She hadn't lied, she wasn't in love. She loved Gendry with all her heart, almost as much as she loved her family, but she still wouldn't accept that she loved him in a way a man loved a woman.

No. She loved him how she would love a best friend, how she would love someone who was precious to her and she wanted to keep by her side, always. And kissing was just a part of it. It didn't mean anything more, and besides, Gendry never loved her in that way either. It's just that kissing him had felt better than she'd expected, and there was no harm in feeling good, was there?

Gendry held her waist and pulled her down, until her knees hit the ground. His lips were rough and moved with more experience than her. Gendry's hands tightened around her waist, and he pulled her closer, making her knees bump against his legs. She felt his lips stray from hers and move to her cheeks, then her jaw and then-

She pulled back.

Gendry's face was flushed and he breathed like he was out of air.

"Arya," he whispered, bringing his face close to hers again. "Arya, why would you-"

"Princess Arya-"

They both turned around to see Podrick running towards them. The squire stopped in his tracks and looked between both of them. Arya moved away from Gendry, and he pulled his arm back from around her waist.

"This is why I was worried, milady," he said, and stood up. Arya wanted to stop him, but thought better of it as he walked away, without looking at her or Podrick.

Arya walked towards Podrick, brushing snow off her cloak.

"Don't mention a word of this to anyone," she said. "Especially not to Jon."

Podrick nodded

"Why were you calling me?"

"King Jon asked for you," he replied. His voice was small, perhaps because he was still nervous.

Arya nodded and walked passed him. She did not know Podrick but she was sure he wouldn't dare to tell anyone when she told him not to. He looked rather scared of her at times, and that would definitely work for her.

The only person she was worried about was Gendry. After this, she doubted he would give in to anything she said ever again.

Only Sansa, Bran and Jon were in the solar. The latter was standing by the fire, leaning against the wall.

"What happened?" Arya asked, removing her cloak. The fire was too warm for her.

"I received a raven an hour ago. From Cersei Lannister."

Arya clenched her first.

"It was for Daenerys," Jon continued. "The Lannisters have formed an alliance with The Greyjoy through an impending marriage between Cersei Lannister and Euron Greyjoy. She threatened Daenerys and told her to surrender her army."

Jon sat down.

"So we have decided that Daenerys and I will marry within the week and then she will leave for Dragonstone and march towards King's Landing."

"Will we aid her in the battle?" Sansa asked.

Jon shook his head.

"She has enough men."

"It is for the best, Jon," Bran said, calmly. "The quicker this war ends, the other war begins. Winter is here, and we are not safe anymore. It won't be long until the dead march South. We need to be ready."

Bran's eyes were wiser, and she heard fear in his voice. These monsters they spoke of, she'd never laid eyes on them. The only enemy she had right now was Cersei Lannister, but it made her uneasy to think there was an army of the dead not far North.

"The Wall will hold them back," she stated.

"Only for a matter of time," Bran replied. "I've seen. Their numbers grow and so does their strength. We have to end this before it becomes too much for us to take. Marry her, Jon. Let her take the Iron Throne. We need her dragons. The Throne only matters as long as there are people alive to sit on it."

Jon looked grim. Judging from his face, Arya guessed he had not slept well for days. He looked tired.

Maybe being King is too much for him.

She held his gaze just for a while.

"A wedding would be nice," she said.

"I'll start making preparations, then," Sansa said, smiling. She had enjoyed such things since her childhood, and a wedding was more than enough to make her happy.

The last ones in the solar were her and Jon.

"You don't look very happy," Arya said.

Jon took her hand in his.

"I'm just tired."

Arya wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, her chest tightened. Jon's face was buried in her hair, and he whispered her name.

"I missed you," she said.

Jon had been so busy that they had not even properly talked since three days. Of course, she had been busy practising, and with Sansa but Jon's place in her life was not something such trivial things could fill.

"I've missed you too, my little wolf." The endearment made her heart thump. He hadn't called her that in days.

Jon pulled away.

"Were you out in the snow?" Jon asked. His thumbs traced her cheeks softly.

Arya nodded.

"You'll get sick, little one." He smiled.

"The weather suits me," she argued.

Jon nodded. "Of course, my Princess of Winter."

Arya rolled her eyes.

"My she-wolf," he whispered again. "How do you make me happier instantly?"

"Don't be such a bard, Jon. You're too easy to please."

He laughed aloud, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Warmth rushed through her entire body.

"Tomorrow, spend your day with me," he said. "I have things to tell you."

"I have to practice with Sandor."

"The rest of the day, then."

She was surprised he didn't argue about Sandor being her teacher. He wasn't very fond of the Hound, even though he had accepted him as one of Winterfell's own.

Arya nodded. She had never in her entire life loved anyone more than she loved Jon, not even her father, and she'd hate for them to grow apart now.

"Tomorrow, then," she agreed.