Arya watched him as he trudged along with the group; his face a mask of mixed emotions running across it every once in a while. She saw sadness, hurt, emptiness, shock, anger…everything he was going through internally was being reflected with every flash of emotion on his face. But the one she felt most was the pain.

Gendry looked very much like her youngest brother, Rickon, did the day they left for King's Landing. Like his father has left him in Winterfell to be alone and helpless.

But Arya wanted to tell Gendry that he is not alone and he is not helpless. She wanted to talk to him, to hug him tightly in her arms, but what kept her from doing is the fact that Rickon still had a father who would return to him every now and then.

Gendry's father would no longer be able to do that.

So she kept up with the others but made sure he was always in her line of sight. If Gendry needed to talk to anyone, she would be there in an instant. But for now, she kept her distance and gave him his space. The gods know he needed that.

"We should be safe to camp here for the night," called out one of the guards.

It was the third day since they set off for Winterfell. There were a measly five members of the kingsguards, Ned, Arya, Edric and Gendry. He's King Gendry now, Arya thought to herself. Ser Yoren had to leave for Dorne for the Queen, since no one was more capable to see to her travels than Ser Yoren and his men. And besides, if he were to travel with this group for Winterfell, outsiders would immediately guess that the King was traveling along with them. They couldn't afford to lose the King and so he must be left with the care of the five able kingsguards and Ned Stark.

They found a small clearing near a river that her father said flows in the direction of the north. They had been following it the entire time, watching for the moss growing in trees as an added clue. One of the guards was originally a man of the north and has confirmed that this indeed was the way.

"Gather our supplies, my love," Ned said to Arya as she got off her horse. "I'm afraid we can't risk starting a fire out here. It's too dangerous. We might have to settle for bread, cheese, and a few more salted pork left over from last night. Do you think we have enough?"

Arya went through their satchel of food and checked their rations. "There is enough for everyone," she replied. "How long should we keep traveling? If we keep on for a few more days, the food might not last until then."

Ned nodded in understanding. "If we keep up this pace, we might be home the day after tomorrow."

"And if there are no complications," Arya said with a nod.

"No complications, yes," Ned agreed with a slow nod. He looked around the group of travelers and noticed that Gendry was not with them. In a moment of panic, Ned called out to the guard closest to him and asked where the king was.

"He needed a moment alone," said the guard. "Didn't want to leave him alone but he threatened to cut off my man parts if he was not allowed to leave."

"He's not gone far, anyway. I made sure of that," said another guard, pointing to the right-most part of the woods. "I make sure to check on him every few minutes."

Ned looked at his daughter and he knew she understood him. She nodded before leaving, handing the satchel over to him before she went on her way to find the king.


She found him sitting by a fallen tree trunk in a small area a little further away from their camp site. He was sitting on the grassy floor, legs folded to his chest, arms and head leaning on his knees. At that moment, Arya didn't know if she should approach or just leave him be. But she found her answer when his body started wracking with sobs, it drew her towards him for support.

He was startled a bit; angry even when he looked up but his face turned somewhat controlled as soon as he realized that it was her. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, as if his attempt at being discreet could still salvage what little dignity he had left after being caught crying. Kings do not cry in the presence of others, that much he was taught.

But this was Arya, and maybe he was allowed to cry even for just a day.

"What do you want?" he snapped, although he cringed inwardly after realizing it. Arya was not at fault nor did she deserve his anger, but he couldn't help it. This just wasn't his week.

"I just wanted to see how you were faring," Arya said as she took small steps towards him. "May I?" she asked, signaling to the space beside him.

"Why? Your new friend is going to miss you," he spat out, his voice resentful at the word friend.

Typical Arya would have rolled her eyes at him and called him stupid, but today was not Typical Arya's day. She would have to be Patient Arya if she wanted to get through him and his grief.

"Your Grace," she said, putting a stress on the title. "I merely wanted to ask how you were, that's all."

"I'm fine. Now go back to your friend."

Arya sighed. "You Grace-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"But you are king now. Your people would have my head on a spike if I keep calling you by your name."

"Did it matter before, Arya?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers, leaving her intimidated by the weight of it. "Back when I was just a prince? Did it matter to you?"

"No."

"Why would it matter now?"

Arya inhaled deeply and exhaled as she took the space beside him, mimicking his position. "Besides your new responsibility?"

Gendry just stared at her, not answering.

"You weren't betrothed before."

Arya heard him mutter a curse under his breath. He raked his fingers through his hair before dragging his hands over his face. He was silent for a moment, save for the few muttered curses he let out in frustration. "I didn't know my Father planned something like that, Arya. Believe me. I only found out at that moment in the tent."

"When you called for me?" Arya snorted. "I began to think you actually wanted me to hear about it instead of telling it to my face."

"Do you think me a vile person? Do you think I would do that to you?" Gendry said, the anger back in his voice.

Arya had to remember that it wasn't really Gendry talking but the anger and sadness and frustration over the incident of the past few days. Still, not being a patient person, she was struggling hard to not meet his anger with her own temper.

"I don't. But seeing as you're angry and hurting right now, maybe it would be best if I leave you be for now. I'll come back with your supper."

Arya stood abruptly and started walking back to camp, leaving a surprised Gendry sitting there with his mouth agape. She was only a few steps further when she heard him calling out her name.

"Please…"

It was what got through her. Please, he had called out to her with anguish in his voice. She turned back to him and found him crouching there, whether he was about to get up or keeping himself anchored to the ground, she didn't know. But his face was scrunched up in agony, as if he were about to cry a second time. Feeling her chest constrict and her throat choke back tears. She crossed the space between them and fell to the ground beside him, engulfing his larger frame into her smaller one. He welcomed her comforting arms; pressing his face onto the crook of her neck and started crying once more.

Arya's heart broke. This wasn't Gendry. The person she was holding in her arms right now was just a broken man; a shell of the person she knew him to be. She held him tighter, as if her arms would bring her Gendry back and not this sad, hurt, angry person pretending to be Gendry.

"It's okay," Arya whispered as she caressed the hair on his nape, feeling him shudder from it. "I'm sorry about your father. I'm sorry about your people. I'm sorry that you're going through all this."

Gendry buried his face deeper into her neck, as if he was breathing in her scent for comfort and drowning in her skin for strength.

"I'm sorry for everything you're going through, Gendry. But you don't have to do it alone."

And she thinks she hears him sob louder and hold him tighter, and Arya didn't know what to do except to keep holding on. She later realizes that she's sitting on his lap, his arms wound tightly around her back, his face now buried on her chest. "Before my name day…we…my father and I…we had a row," he said, his sobs finally quieting down. "He forbade me to see you, and I was just so angry at him for keeping me from seeing that one person who makes me happy."

Arya pulled away a bit. "I…I make you happy?"

"Shut up," he said, pulling her back towards him. "You know that you do."

Arya only chuckled. "King for three days but already a bossy bit of sorts."

"You're a bad influence."

"Very funny, Your Grace."

"Stop calling me that."

"Did you just growl?"

"I'm a stag. Stags don't growl."

"Well, you're a bull too."

This time, Gendry laughed softly, pulling her head down to his and kissed her. She missed this, she realized, and she met his kiss with equal ardor. He seemed hungry for this-for her-and she reveled in the feel of his soft lips slanting over hers, over and over again. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip; seeking entrance until she opened her mouth and gave it to him. Her tongue danced with his; around and around within the hot depths of her mouth. She felt him shiver when she slightly pulled away, pulling his lower lip with her teeth until she let go. He gasped at the feeling of her tongue and her teeth, pleasure and pain mixed together, and he loved it.

"Gendry…" she whispered when she felt his soft lips trail kisses down her throat, smiling against her skin when she felt her breath hitch for the umpteenth time during their little play. "We should-"

"Your Grace!"

"Arya!"

That jolted them out of their stupor. Arya quickly scrambled off his lap, straightening her skirts which were already dirtied by the grassy forest floor. Gendry was slower to recover, because she noticed that he was trying to keep the hard evidence in his breeches. She covered her mouth to stifle her laugh, and Gendry glared at her as he opted to hug his knees closer to his chest to keep his arousal hidden. Arya pursed her lips to keep the laughter in, taking mercy on him and his obvious discomfort and embarrassment.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?" asked one of the guards. Arya didn't even bother finding out their names because they would be in Winterfell the day after tomorrow, what's the use? They minded their own business anyway, thinking that even the kingsguards were better than blacksmiths and their daughters.

Gendry waved him away. "Everything's fine, Rodrick. I'll be back soon."

The guard named Rodrick sent Arya a suspicious glare before taking his leave. Ned stepped forward then, sending Arya almost the same kind of glare Rodrick sent her, although she felt more threatened by this. He looked at the king who was still hunched by the fallen tree trunk, looking as sheepish and guilty as Arya was.

"Arya, you were supposed to hand out the men's supper."

"I'm sorry, Father. I'll see to it now."

"No need," Ned said with a deep sigh. "I've already given them theirs. Here," he said, handing over a cloth that was somewhat used as a wrapping. "You can take part of the bread and cheese. There's salted pork and ale is for Your Grace. Serve him the bigger chunk of bread and cheese."

Arya nodded obediently, seeing to the preparing the food immediately.

"I apologize, Your Grace. Our rations are not as fitting for a king as we would like you to have but-"

Gendry finally stood, walking towards Ned. "Please do not apologize. I am fine with just bread and cheese and the ale. Arya needs the food more, skinny girl that she is."

Arya threw him a glare. "Shut up!"

Ned gave her a pointed look, his mouth a grim line. Arya gave a small shrug and said, "Shut up, Your Grace."

Gendry threw his head back and laughed. Ned looked even more appalled than he was earlier, clearing his throat for lack of a better thing to do. "You have a feisty one in your hands, Ned. I assume she keeps you on your toes?"

Ned only gave a slight bow as affirmation.

Gendry grinned widely. "I'm sure. She keeps me on my toes, too."


He watched her sitting across him, laughing at something this blacksmith apprentice said. He hasn't seen her this happy since they left King's Landing. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh, but thinking back on those last couple of hours where he unloaded a bucketful of tears and list filled with his problems, he was angry at himself that he wasn't the one making her laugh right now. Who the hell does this apprentice think he is?

Ned said something to his apprentice - what in seven hells is his name? Henry? Henrich?

"You're stupid, Edric! Not everyone who wears an armor is a knight! Anyone can buy armor!" Arya said with a laugh.

Ahh, Edric. And did she just call him stupid? I thought I was stupid?

"Would you like to retire now, Your Grace?" one of the guards asked him. "We've set up a tent for you. You may retire, if you wish so, Your Grace."

"Thank you," was all Gendry could say.

He caught Arya's eye before she stood to stow what few possessions they had and the leftover food. She told her father that she would retire now as she was quite tired. Gendry saw that they had bedrolls laid out for themselves, and only one tent was erect. He frowned upon realizing that his companions were to bed out there, under the night sky, vulnerable to any possible danger. He knew he was king now, but could he demand that a hierarchy of social statuses be followed when these men and this girl were endangering their lives to bring him to safety?

"Will you be sleeping out here?" Gendry asked Ned when he approached the kind blacksmith.

"Aye, Your Grace. I would apologize again for the small tent as it was the only one we could find at a short notice."

"There's plenty of room, enough for us all. My guards will sleep out, they're trained for that."

"We'll manage out here, Your Grace," added the apprentice.

Huh.

Gendry turned to look at him. "Edric, is it? You think Arya's safe to sleep in the open, when danger lurks everywhere?"

Edric met his gaze without wavering. "I know how to fight, Your Grace."

Gendry snorted. "I'm sure."

"What does that mean?" came his reply, forgetting his courtesies at that moment.

"Edric," Ned called out with a warning tone.

"I do know that you are king, Your Grace," Edric said, the sarcasm dripping with every word. "But your being king does not mean everyone below you in rank is useless."

"I wonder where you get your theories because you don't know me," Gendry replied.

"And you don't know me," said Edric. "Your Grace."

"Are you daft, boy?" Ned said as soon as Gendry left, anger lacing his voice. "That was the king you were arguing with! He could have your head in a spike!"

"I see the way he looks at Arya and it's the same way for her! She'd only end up hurt because someone of her rank will never be allowed to be with someone of his rank. She deserves someone who would care for her, even if he were just a lowborn."

Ahh. Ned can finally see what Edric meant.

"And by that, you mean someone like you?" Ned asked with raised brows.

Edric was silent.

"Do you forget that it is her father you are speaking with this moment? Watch your words, boy. You came here to smith, not to take my daughter's hand in marriage. Go get some sleep. We rise early on the morrow."