***Disclaimer*** This chapter contains somewhat adult themes

Arya tossed and turned fitfully that night. The quiet supper with her uncle had helped to push her anger and frustration to the back of her mind, but now that she was alone, she was unable to calm herself. The Blackfish's words with her early had stirred something in her that confused her and with nothing to distract her thoughts, she was unable to ignore it.

Gendry couldn't possible have loved her. She was Arya Horseface, Lumphead, Weasel. She had none of the looks of her sister, no ladylike courtesies. She had been a dirty little gutter rat when he had met her. How could anyone love a girl like that? But everything her uncle had said had made it sound like Gendry had been heartbroken to see her go. Why, after all these years, would he still care about her? He had to have known other girls far better than he had known her.

She couldn't help imagining Gendry with other girls. The images came unbidden and unwanted; of him telling another girl that he loved her while he stared into her eyes; of him on top of another girl, sweating and whispering her name while her fingers ran through his hair. It made her angry and ashamed for reasons that she couldn't explain

She lay in her bed with the blankets tangled around her legs for hours, mulling over what Gendry might or might not feel for her until a soft knock on the door jerked her back from her thoughts. She rolled off the bed, padded across the cold floor on feet made unsteady by lack of sleep, and opened the door. The person outside was holding a candle and the sudden brightness made her shield her eyes and it was only after she had blinked for several moments that she was able to see them.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed, eyes still squinting against the light.

"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to apologize. Will you let me in?" His shirts was rumpled, like he'd just picked it up off the floor and he wasn't wearing any shoes. His hair was a mess and the black stubble on his cheeks made him look haggard.

"Apologize for what? Dragging me here under false pretenses or deserting me to a band of stupid rebels?"

"Will you let me in?" He asked again stubbornly.

She stood there glaring at him for a moment before opening the door wider to let him know he was free to come in. He brushed past her and set the candle he had been holding on the table by her bed, leaving the lingering scent of cloves in the air behind him. He stood awkwardly, his gaze shifting between her and the floor and Arya was suddenly aware that her thin tunic made even her small breasts uncomfortably visible. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to speak, her anxiety mounting.

"I told them you would be angry with me. They didn't want to believe me when I said just how stubborn you can be. I told them you'd never marry me or anyone else." He looked away from her as he said it, unable to meet her eyes.

"Well you were right about that." She snapped, instantly regretting it. The emotion that crossed Gendry's face was one of almost physical pain.

"I never wanted to leave you," He said quietly after a long time. "I joined them because I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"That's a lie. You could have come with me."

"And done what," He spat, his sudden anger making her jump. "Watched from the smithy as you went back to being a little lady? You would have gone back to being a lord's daughter and I would have been forgotten about. I would have grown old and died without ever being near you again. I'm only here now because Robert Baratheon fucked my mum, that's the only reason I'm allowed to be anywhere close to you."

"You would have had plenty of other girls to pay attention to!" Ones who didn't have a horse face, she thought.

"What do I look like? My father? I'm not the kind of man who fondles every passing serving girl and has lain with more women than he can count."

"You would have had someone! You probably already have!"

Her words stopped him dead. Color rushed into his cheeks and he ran his hand self consciously through his hair.

"You mean...You haven't…" Arya's face was hot with embarrassment, but a small part of her is relieved for reasons she doesn't understand.

"I was too busy looking for you." He mumbled, his eyes falling to the floor.

Arya breathed in sharply and felt her face flush bright red as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. All the anger had drained out of her to be replaced with...what? Shame? Guilt? She had spent so long telling herself that he hadn't cared about her, because if he had, he would have come looking for her when it turns out that he had been doing just that. It had been so much easier that way, to let her convince herself that she hadn't meant anything to him and that he hadn't meant anything to her.

"Isn't that what you wanted me to say? That I've spent the past six years looking for you because I didn't know what else to do without you? I gave up having a life and a family chasing you and the only reason I let them drag me here was because I thought that, just maybe, I'd get to see you again. But now that you're here, every worry I wasted nights thinking about has come true and you don't want anything to do with me." His voice was shaky and when he met her gaze, she saw that his eyes shone with suppressed tears.

And suddenly she couldn't stand the thought of him hurting, especially because of her. Her uncle had been right, this wasn't his fault and he needed to know that. She closed the distance between them hesitantly, afraid that if she tried to get near him he would reject her and unsure of what she was going to do if he didn't. But he knew what he needed, what they both needed, far better than she had.

She drew near him and he cupped her chin in his calloused blacksmith hands and when her grey eyes met his blue ones, every emotion that they had kept secret from each other, and from themselves, for so long came pouring out, though neither of them uttered a word. She felt the pain that he had held inside for years, every agonizing moment that he had spent blaming himself for her disappearance and every second that he had spent telling himself that he wasn't good enough for her, that he would always be beneath her, whether she saw it or not. In that moment she knew that, for him, it had only ever been her and that no matter how hard she had tried to deny it or hide it from herself, he had been the one who had truly meant something to her.

His lips brushed softly against hers at first, apprehensively, like he was scared he might hurt her, but when he didn't feel her pull away he tangled his hand into her hair, yanking her to his chest. She gasped as his mouth crushed down hard on hers, his tongue flitting between her teeth tasting of cloves and wine. He lifted her off her feet one handed, her legs weaving around his waist as he laid her roughly on the bed, his weight pressed down on her. He broke away from her lips and buried his face in her neck, his breath roaring in her ears, his teeth leaving red marks all the way to her collar bone. His hand climbed slowly up the inside of her shift, his fingers trailing across her hips, her rib and when his thumb brushed against her nipple and she almost moaned aloud.

Her eyes snapped open, eyes that she hadn't realized she had closed, when she felt his weight on her disappear. She lifted herself up on her elbows, breathing heavily, and saw him halfway across the room, a look of panic and confusion on his face.

"You're a lady. No matter how many times they tell me I'm a lord, I'll never be good enough for you. I'll still just be a bastard." He hissed through clenched teeth, his face flushed with embarrassment.

He whirled around, nearly ripping the door off its hinges, and threw himself into the dark corridor.

"Gendry, don't!" She shouted after him.

But the door had already slammed behind him, the sound echoing in the cavernous chamber. Arya blew out the candle and felt the tears rolling down her cheeks before her head hit the pillows.