Burning Bridges

He found her where he'd always find her, in the Godswood.

He'd barely set foot inside before he heard her voice. "So, how'd you figure me out?"

Gendry sighed, not sure why he suddenly felt like the guilty one. "You stole Tommen's armour, you fought right handed to throw off Loras, before switching back to the left hand, you fought with your little Needle for crying out loud! I'm upset I didn't figure it out sooner! Seven hells, I didn't even figure it out before Sansa."

"Sansa?" She asked.

"Your braid was poking out of your helmet, she saw it from the grounds." He said, eyes swathing around in the dark to find her. "Where are you?"

"Up here." The armour lay in a pile at her feet and she sat on top of the wall on the Godswood, legs swinging back and forth. "Sansa really figured me out first?"

He nodded. "You fought well. Until you got to Loras Tyrell. What were you thinking?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I knew I would never actually beat him. So I thought, why not try everything you've got? Why not be daring and crazy and do something they'd never expect?"

"Like fight poorly?"

"It kept things interesting. And it almost worked." She said, her eyes snapping to attention, and baring down on him. "I threw him off kilter for a few seconds there. I could see it in his eyes, this... sudden fear. And I got a rush from it. It was incredible. Worth whatever trouble my parent's might've thrown my way if they found out." She sighed. "Why did you have to give me that stupid flower crown?"

He shrugged, "Kept things interesting."

"I didn't want it." She said plainly.

"Oh, you made that perfectly clear."

"Good." She said. "You ruined everything. My mother is going to yell at me now, and stick me in dresses and do my hair. She'll say I embarrassed the family and then she'll put Sansa even higher up on her little pedestal. I'd almost gotten away with it and then you had to ruin everything!"

"Arya, Tommen recognized his own armour. You fought with your own sword, your sister and father have both seen it, and so have I! No one had seen you all day! How stupid did you think we all were that we wouldn't figure it out on our own?"

"Nobody else would've known!" She shouted, standing up on the wall and towering over him. "I didn't care if my family figured it out. But if everyone else knew, that's what mattered. And they wouldn't have you hadn't revealed me to 'keep things interesting'! You embarrassed my family, not me! If my mother and father had figured it out they might've been mad. I would've gotten maybe a few days stuck next to Septa Mordane, an hour or two of sewing and a couple of lunches and tea times. Now it's going to be a outrage, a scandal. That's on you."

"That's all that matters to you right now? That you got in a bit more trouble than you thought you would? You're such a child! Do you even realize what happened out there today?"

"Yes."

"Do you?"

"Yes!" She shouted. "You fucked everything up!"

"I chose you!" He shouted.

"And what? So what, Gendry? Is that supposed to make me feel blessed? Humbled? Special? Should I be crying and kissing your feet? Should I be thanking my great, future king for bestowing on me such a wonderful opportunity that I didn't ask for? That I didn't want?!" She said, slowly, she climbed down and pounced from the wall. Her steps towards him were determined and hard, leaving boot prints in the dirt. "You know me! You know that this isn't something I would ask for, or dream about. I'm not Sansa, or Myrcella, or Margaery Tyrell! I don't go to bed every night with images of princes and knights and songs in my head. I dream of swords, and fights and the road back home. And nobody knows that better than you."

He was silent for several minutes. She stormed up to him in her fit and even though he was looking down at her she still seemed as tall as when she'd been standing on that wall. And she made sense. He'd known she wouldn't want it, deep down inside. But he'd wanted her to. And maybe if he tossed her that crown she would've been that person, through some strange twist of fate, she might've transformed into her. But that wasn't her. Sansa had tried to warn him and he hadn't listened.

Finally, his eyes met hers.

"What if I could give you that?" He asked.

"Give me what?" Was her reply.

"Life. A life, in the North, undisturbed, unadulterated. Just freedom and you. Is that what you'd want?"

"No one can actually do that." She said, kicking dirt around with her feet.

"A king can."

She scoffed and took off for the exit. "You're only a prince."

"Not for long." He said, standing alone next to the Heart Tree.

The next morning Sansa woke up to a Hall full of smiles.

Her Septa, her mother, the Queen, Maragery, and Myrcella all sat with expectant eyes and upturned lips. Servants bustled around them, carrying chairs and tables and heavy decorations.

"Good morning." She said, trying to sound cheery. She couldn't have felt worse.

"Good morning, Sansa." The Queen said, forcing a smile of her own. It was strained and awkward.

"What's happening?" She asked looking around.

"We're preparing for my wedding feast." Margaery said with a smile, next to her the Queen feigned a smile too. "The ceremony will take place tonight."

"That's... fast." Sansa said carefully. Margaery's smile pretended to falter, it felt like a warning. "I'm so excited for you." She said, rushing to hold her friend's hand.

"Look, we have something." Myrcella said, grabbing her attention. She produced a blue flower crown from under the table. "It's all fixed and beautiful."

"It's for you, darling." Margaery said.

"But why?" She asked, carefully.

"To replace the one Gendry ruined yesterday." Myrcella explained. "I thought it would be a nice gesture."

"And why is it being given to me?" She asked.

Cersei flexed her hand on the table and spoke again. "As a symbol of your engagement. You are to be engaged to my son, not quite the one you were expecting, I'm sure, but, well, plans change." Margaery's eyes fell and Septa Mordane cleared her throat. "You will wear it for the day, keep it close afterwards, and your engagement will be announced within the next few days."

"This is what you all want?" Sansa asked.

Myrcella and Margaery nodded eagerly. The older women were silent.

Eventually her mother smiled carefully and said, "It's what the Prince wants, Sansa. He came to see me this morning. He said you two talked and he agrees with everything you said. Whatever you told him yesterday seemed to make a great impact on him."

Sansa nodded, remembering one of the finer points she had made. This engagement was everything she and Arya wanted, what they needed. Her fingers clutched tightly to the crown and she felt a thorn stab her palm. She winced and pulled her hand away, revealing a thin trail of red blood flowing down her wrist.

"Oh dear," Septa cooed. "I thought I'd gotten them all out." She disappeared to find something to clean the wound.

"This is everything we've been hoping for, Sansa." Margaery smiled, grabbing Sansa's hands and holding them tight. The two girls embraced.

"And we'll be sisters!" Myrcella said, joining the hug.

Cersei turned to Catelyn, her tone serious. "We'll announce to the city tomorrow night. We should have several weddings to look forward to in the next month. What a great time to be in the Capital."

"Of course." Catelyn agreed with a smile.

"On the topic of Arya," She began, she stopped when Catelyn placed a hand on hers.

"You already have three weddings to worry about," She said softly, "Let's leave that topic for another day."

"An excellent idea." The Queen agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I will have to continue to fight with the Dornish over travel arrangements." She nodded curtly before exiting the Hall, brushing past Ned Stark along the way.

He took in the scene: his daughter smiling, a bountiful blue flower crown placed on top of her red hair, her friends surrounding her cooing cheerfully. And his wife who's smile disappeared as she walked towards him.

"Ned, before you say anything I-"

"I suppose this explains Gendry's near silence at the Council meeting today."

"He came to me, Ned. I'm quite surprised to learn he didn't come to you first." Catelyn said, placing her hand on her husband's arm.

"Has Robert been told?" He asked.

"I suppose not. I believe Cersei will tell him when she next sees him."

"Gods help her." Ned muttered under his breath.

"Shouldn't it be good news? I know Robert had his heart settled on Arya marrying Gendry, the reason... well we all know why, but surely the fact that this is Gendry's choice will tell him."

"That won't matter. To Robert this will still reek of Cersei. They are vicious to each other, Cat. Cersei pairing Joff with the Tyrells, Robert shipping Myrcella off to Dorne. Gendry is the last straw and she broke him. Wore him down for her own purposes."

"Let that lie for now, Ned. Can't we take a moment to be happy for our good graces? Sansa is all but betrothed to be the next queen. Arya has been given the gift of more time, to be acquainted with the city, the people, perhaps to return to the North once more."

"Cat, consider what we're marrying our daughter into."

"The most powerful family in Westeros?" She said.

"Not just that..." Ned's eyes fell away from her. "Not even that."

"What do you mean?" Cat asked, stooping to make her husband's eyes meet hers. "Ned, you have to explain yourself. You've been so absent since we've arrived. Mentally and physically, always locking yourself away with your books in that small council room. Tell me what's going on. Please, Ned."

"I can't, not yet, not until I'm certain that what I'm thinking it true."

"Are we safe here?" Cat asked, her voice laced in worry.

Ned looked around before whispering his response. "For now."

Gendry hadn't spoken to Ned Stark all day.

Not because he'd been avoiding him. Or because he was afraid. But because he was simply too busy to find Ned. Although he hadn't been able to make himself meet Ned's eye at the Small Council meeting that morning. After that he'd been out in the city trying to find one man: Thoros of Myr.

Deep in the recesses of the Keep, Beric Dondarrion was lying almost dead on a table, surrounded by his closest friends, the King and his Hand, and now, the Prince and the Red Priest.

Gendry burst into the room and shut the door behind him, glancing at Lord Stark for only a moment before returning his attention to his father.

"I found him." He said. Thoros moved silently to his friend's side.

"Can you help him?" The King asked.

"Did anyone see you?" Ned asked Gendry.

Thoros replied yes, Gendry replied no.

"Why does that matter?" Gendry asked. No one answered him.

Thoros lifted the tunic from Beric's stomach and revealed the oozing, green tinted wound underneath.

"Can you save him?" Robert asked.

The Red Priest recovered the wound and looked up at his King. "Perhaps it's time to let him lie, your Grace. He's been through enough already."

"And he'll go through more." The King replied.

Ned's approach was much softer, "He may be needed in the upcoming weeks, for the same purposes he's served the last few days."

Thoros' eyes drifted to Gendry.

"What's going on?" The Prince asked. He's eyes shifted from his father, to Lord Stark, down to Beric's nearly dead body. "He was protecting me?"

Ned nodded, "He was protecting you."

"And with good reason." Robert said. "This is not just a wound, my boy, that was done with a poison soaked sword. Someone tried to kill you."

"Anyone we didn't know, anyone we didn't trust, you didn't fight."

"So I didn't win fairly, then?" Was his reply.

"Try to focus on the more pressing matter, your Grace." Ned said carefully.

"The man who wounded Beric Dondarrion fought you only an hour later. He was stabbed with the poisoned sword before the man could get to you and you fought the knight before he could recover his sword."

"He almost had you before the small knight... before Arya tossed Loras sword to you."

"She's quick one, that one is." Robert said with a laugh.

"She is." Gendry said sadly.

Ned glanced nervously between the father and son.

Thoros' voice broke the tension, "He's dead." He said, pressing his ear to his friend's chest and a hand to his wrist.

Gendry stared down at the body of his father's friend, until a thunderous clap from his father broke the calm.

"Well, we've done it before. Let's do it again." Robert said. They moved to either side of the Lightening Lord. Lem and Anguy held down his legs while Ned and Tom Sevenstrings grabbed his arms. Robert stood at his head and nodded to Thoros to begin.

Thoros of Myr placed his hands on Beric's wound and raised his head up, praying to R'hllor to save this man, to bring him back.

Gendry watched in sheer disbelief. Thinking his father to be drunk, that Ned must be mad, that all these men he'd respected minutes ago had purely lost their senses.

And then Beric's chest rose, with the slowest, weakest of breaths. His lips quivered as air went in and out, his lungs slowly growing steady with each new breath.

"Unbelievable." Gendry said, stepping back.

"And much calmer than last time." Anguy said, the other men let go of his body and began to back away.

"Thoros, how are you?" Robert asked, the man's limp body was collapsed on the table next to Beric's steadily rising one.

"Is he?" Gendry asked, unable to finish the sentence.

"No, just a little tired." Lem assured him.

"You should've seen it last time," Tom laughed. "Last time he-"

Beric rose all of a sudden, shot up like a bolt of lightening, and grabbed the sword from Thoros sheath and swinging it madly about the room. Everyone backed up and hugged the walls.

"Well, exactly this happened." Tom said.

Beric jumped from the table and looked about wildly. Behind him, Thoros rose slowly.

"Beric Dondarrion." He said firmly, though his appearance was pale and weak. "Your name is Beric Dondarrion, you are the Lightening Lord, the Lord of Blackhaven. You fought in the Single Combat Trials, and protected your Prince when you took the blow of poisoned sword." Beric looked down at his abdomen, and lifted his tunic to reveal the fully healed flesh beneath, only a long red-green scar remained.

"You brought me back again?" He shouted, his sword still raised.

"You knew the risks." The King shouted back.

"I was prepared to give my life, I was not prepared to have it given back." He said.

"You're work here isn't done."

"When will it be?" Beric asked. "Hmm?"

Robert glared at the man with the raised sword. "When your King says it is." That ended the conversation. Beric lowered his sword and sat on the table.

"And what happens now?" Beric said. Thoros rose and joined him, still looking weak.

"Now you tell me who is trying to kill me." Gendry said, hoping to command as much authority as his father had moments ago.

Everyone looked at him uncertainly. Ned spoke first, "Not until we're certain."

"And what until then?" He asked.

"Until then, you're safe." Ned said. "You just worry about your upcoming betrothal." He placed a hand on the Prince's shoulder and offered him half-hearted smile.

"Your what?!" Robert shouted. "You finally did it? I suppose the flower crown did the trick! And she accepted? Excellent news son, excellent news!" Robert exclaimed.

"Quite the celebration to be had." Thoros said with a weak smile.

"He's going to marry Sansa." Ned said. "Cersei's planning an announcement sometime tomorrow."

"We need to work quickly, then." Robert said, more soberly than Gendry had ever seen him.

The two left the room immediately, nothing more was said to Gendry. All his father offered him was an angry grimace before slamming the door in his retreat.

Silence fell into the room.

"Do you suppose he's gone to get the wine?" Tom asked, inciting a laugh from the group.

Gendry, hoping to temporarily forget his troubles, laughed along with the rest of them. "And how exactly are you alive now?" He asked Beric Dondarrion.

"The Lord of Light works in mysterious and intriguing ways." Thoros said, rolling his eyes and sharing a smile with his newly resurrected friend.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving my life, then." Gendry said, offering Beric a hand to shake.

"Of course, your Grace. Just like I saved your father's before you, and gladly would again."

Gendry looked around, confused.

"Not my first time." Thoros said with a wink.

"Hopefully it will be the last." Gendry said.

The Sept was filling up quickly the next morning, in preparation for the ceremony. And everything was perfect, which surprised Sansa considering how quickly it had been put together.

Everything looked beautiful, the Sept was lit by the setting sun, casting golden shades of glass across the room, glittering with the warmth of the ending summer.

Sansa watched the final preparations through teary eyes. The Septa was waiting by the door to instruct them all on when to release the doves. At the exact moment when the doors open and Margaery and Joffrey emerged as a newly betrothed royal couple. That's how she would've planned it. That's how her wedding would've been. She wiped away a single tear from her cheek, trying to be subtle.

Until a piece of cloth was put in front of her face. She accepted it and looked up to find Gendry.

"Thank you, your Grace."

"I thought it would be best for us to sit together." He said, looking around. "To keep up appearances." She moved the flower crown from the bench to her lap and let him sit down. "And you can call me Gendry."

"I'll try to, your Grace."

He chuckled, "Arya called me Gendry the first time she met me."

"She also thought you were someone else entirely," Sansa fought back, "Didn't she?" She wasn't sure why she was being mean to the Prince. Her prince. Perhaps it was his obvious dismissal of her, or the fact that he so blatantly favoured her sister and it made her bitter, perhaps it was the image or Robert and Cersei sitting tersely just a few rows ahead, and how it looked like her future. It might've been that she was sitting in a lavish, Southron wedding about to watch one of her very best friends marry the boy she thought she would be marrying. She just didn't feel like herself at all today. "You're whole relationship was based off a lie."

Gendry shook his head, not believing it to be true. "And our meeting wasn't? When we met on the steps of the Keep you were primed and ready to decide which royal prince you would choose to be your husband. Let me tell you a secret, Sansa. They were never going to let you choose. It was an illusion that they would let any of us choose, let alone you."

Sansa stared straight ahead, her eyes boring into the back of the Queen's intricately woven hair.

"Is this how it's always going to be?" She asked. "You reminiscing about my sister, pining after her, and calling me stupid until we're both miserable."

She turned to look at him and he seemed to be dumbfounded. She leaned in close and whispered, "I don't want to be them." directing his attention to the King and Queen. They weren't even speaking to each other.

"I don't want to be them either." Gendry said, his voice dryer and more real than she had ever heard it. She looked into his blue eyes and found them to be clear and honest.

"Let's not be." She said.

He nodded and leaned back, "I can't promise anything to you, Sansa. Not deep, true love, or blissful happiness, or songs and dreams. But I can be your friend. And I'll keep you safe, and try and make you happy. This may not be what either of us were expecting, but that doesn't mean we can't rule this country well, together."

She nodded. He was right, this wasn't what either one wanted. But this was what the gods had dealt them, and they could be friends. She smiled and shook his hand.

They would be friends. They would be allies. And they would rule well together. And Arya could be free.

And though he couldn't make any promises, they would be together forever, and friendship could become something more.

Her parents arrived then, with Arya in tow. She was squirming uncomfortably in a blue knit dress.

"It took all my mother's strength not to strangle her into that dress this morning. Have you talked to her since the tournament?"

"I haven't even seen her since that night." He said. "She yelled at me in the godswood before storming off."

"She does enjoy doing that." Sansa mused. "At least now you can tell her the good news, that we're going to try to get her back home, back to Winterfell."

Gendry nodded and smiled, Sansa really did try to see the best in everything. And Arya couldn't even give him a moments notice.

The rest of the guests took their seats and then the ceremony began.

Margaery entered, looking beautiful in a white gown with gold roses embroidered throughout it. Sansa couldn't help but tear up as she walked to hold hands with Joffrey, in front of the Septon.

"I've never wanted to punch him more." Gendry said, his eyes following Joffrey as he took Margaery's hand and led her further. He stood under the light of the rising sun as it shone in through the window. His hair looked golden and his skin seemed to glow. Sansa couldn't help but think he looked handsome. She cursed herself for thinking so.

But Margaery looked beautiful, and happy, and proud. And so Sansa focused on being happy for her.

And then there was Gendry. Gendry who'd reached out, and who right now she wanted more than anything to become friends with.

"He does look all puffed up and ridiculous." She whispered.

She could see his smile growing out of the corner of her eyes.

"Sorry, Gendry, I'm not good at this." She laughed.

"You're alright, Sansa." He smiled back.

When the ceremony finished the newlyweds left hand in hand with ridiculously wide grins covering their faces. Doves flew and the crowd roared, the Queen's smile even looked somewhat genuine.

And although almost no one noticed, Sansa left with Gendry by her side and the flower crown on her head.

By the end of that night, Sansa Stark would be betrothed.

With the celebratory feast still going on below and the moon risen high in the dark sky, Ned tried to reason with the King in the Small Councel room.

"He can't marry her." The King said, pacing back and forth across the floor.

"Robert," Ned chastised.

"I know she's your daughter, Ned, but so is the other one." He picked his cup from the table and swallowed the last of his drink before pouring himself another. "And we can't, we can't let history repeat itself. But she got in there and ruined it all. Vile woman."

"I understand why your upset Robert, but this isn't only Cersei's doing. Your son came to my wife and told her this is what he wanted."

"He's lying." Robert said.

"He has no reason to. This was entirely his choice." Ned said.

"Well she must've gotten to him, somehow. This isn't what he would've chosen."

"Robert, whether or not this was his choice is not the most important issue we're dealing with right now-"

"Maybe it is, maybe he-" Ned was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Sorry to intrude." Cersei said, shutting the door behind her. "I just wanted to share the good news." Her face was flat, anything but jovial.

"You." Robert sneered. "You did this."

"I did nothing." She said.

"You did everything!" He yelled. "Why? Why did you do it?"

The king and queen stared at each other for a good long while, with Ned observing from the sidelines.

Cersei scoffed and broke eye contact first, "Honestly Robert, you're too paranoid." She waved him away and brushed past Robert, past the table to the window, overlooking the city. "We have three children married of in a month, isn't that a celebration? Or do you have to throw a fit because everything didn't go just as you planned?" She turned back to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"You ruined everything, for your own cruel pleasure." Robert growled.

Cersei's arms swept over the table of books, eyes glancing for only a moment at the words on each page. She moved the wine glass away from the table's edge. "You sent my daughter away for yours." She slammed one of the large books shut. "I simply made sure you would have the opportunity to watch your son suffer."

Quickly, Robert reached out and struck her. It left a red slash across her face.

She smiled and wiped the blood from her lip. "We're all suffering, aren't we? Not for too much longer." She whipped around and left the room.

Ned waited in silence for his friend to speak. He wouldn't. "Robert, what are you-"

"Tomorrow, Ned." The King said, not turning around to meet his friend. "Tonight I plan to go to bed. In the morning we will sort out all my son's new problems." He grabbed his cup and went to leave the room.

"What about the other problem? The bastard problem?" Ned asked as Robert gripped the door handle tightly.

"Tomorrow." Was the King's last word.