Five Times Gendry Reminds Arya of Home and One Time He Doesn't

The Final Time: Eddard

I have got to say that writing this part gave me so many feels. I cannot even right now; I'm just going to go curl up with my sobbing self. I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter; it is probably my favorite so far, even though it is relatively short.

Note: These drabbles are set in a random time frame where Arya and Gendry are traveling around by themselves/in Harrenhal/with Hot Pie/etc. just because I don't want to be specific because parts might appear in some form later in different stories.

It is a little after sunset when Gendry and Arya break for camp, both of them are tired and irritable. They hadn't spoken much since they had moved on that morning. It had been a strange start to the morning, waking up to find Arya in his arms, her small body curled up against his chest. His arm had been asleep and felt heavy when he tried to flex his fingers. She had felt the muscles in his arm move and let out a little moan in her sleep that went right down to the pit of his stomach. He slipped his arm out from under her head, making sure that her head landed softly on the pillow.

He carefully moved backwards and then got out of bed and headed to the shower. When he came back she was up, sitting in the window sill and watching the sun rise. He came up next to her and leaned against the pane, watching her. She didn't move, sitting as still as a statue; the only thing that moved was her hair as a breeze came through the open window. Finally, Gendry turned his gaze to the dawn, bursting out over the treetops in a brilliant light. He searched the horizon for whatever it was that she was looking at, and found nothing. The sky was as normal as it had ever been.

"Is there something out there that I can't see?" Gendry smirked, looking towards the girl.

She turned and looked at him finally. "No."

"Then what's so interesting?"

"Nothing," Arya hopped off the sill and pushed past him, grabbing their small bag of provisions and slinging it on her shoulder. Gendry blinked, and followed dutifully behind her, out into the daylight.

Now the sun was setting in between the trees and Arya was poking at the fire that Gendry had started. She sat crouched low over the flames, Gendry watched her from across the pit, the shadows of the flames dancing across her face. Arya looked up at him from under the fringe of her wildly growing hair.

"What?" she snarled with a ferocity that made Gendry frown.

"What, what?" he asked with a bit of a laugh.

"What are you looking at me like that for?"

He raised an eyebrow, "like what?"

"Like, like…" She threw her hands up in exasperation and threaded her fingers through her hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. Alarmed Gendry ran to her and dropped to his knees, pulling her hands from the short brown mess. She snatched her arms from him and wrapped them around herself, as if she was trying to hold herself together.

"Arya, what's wrong?" His worried eyes studied her.

"You!" She yelled and pushed him. Her small hands hit him square in the chest and he fell backwards in surprise. He landed on his back, his head dangerously close to the flames. He propped himself up on his elbows.

"What was that for?"

She came and laid down with him, he could feel the warmth of her body as she half leaned over him. Her small breasts brushed against his chest and she leaned her face down so close to his that he could feel her breath on his cheek. His heart beat erratically beneath his rib cage and he felt light headed.

"Ar—"

"Shut up," she snapped her lips near his cheek, her breath ghosting across the sensitive skin of his ear. He shivered involuntarily; closing his mouth and waiting impatiently for her to explain. It occurred to him, a bit late, that he could easily just sit up, or slide out from under her. But he realized he didn't want to. Arya leaned back a little so that she could look him in the eye.

"Kiss me," she said, breathlessly and leaned in again.

Gendry sat up suddenly, banging his forehead on hers and sending her tumbling to the ground.

"Bollocks," Gendry yelled, partially from his surprise and partially from the ache in his forehead. Arya had jumped up and stalked around to the other side of the fire, where she was pacing back and forth. "Arya?" Gendry asked, turning to face her.

She stopped and glared at him, the shadows from the fire making her look much taller than she was. "Why won't you kiss me?"

"Arya, I—"

"Why not?"

"Arya, I can't—"

"I know you want to," Arya whispered, her voice carrying to him on the wind. It was soft and small, just another reminder of how young and innocent she really was.

"I—I don't," he said lamely.

"That's rich," she scoffed. He began to speak again but she silenced him with a look, steel eyes, though in the fire he could see the hurt flickered just behind the surface, "am I too young?"

He shook his head.

"Too ugly?"

He had never taken Arya to be a girl who cared about looks. It was so absurd that he raised an eyebrow, not even managing to answer the question. Of course she was not ugly, how could she be? With those big, solemn eyes and soft, pink lips. All small curves and furious energy.

She saw his look and her anger crumbled, she collapsed on a large rock and laughed once. "Sansa always told me that a man won't kiss you if you aren't beautiful."

Gendry laughed out loud, "well, she's wrong about that."

"What?"

Gendry ran a hand through his ear, "not all men are knights in shining armor."

Arya frowned. "So, it's not even that I'm ugly?"

Gendry rubbed his hand over the scratchy stubble on his face. "That's not—"

"Then what?" Arya snapped, her voice cracking a bit in fury.

"I never took you for a swooning lady." His own voice was filled with frustration, not knowing how to explain how much he wanted her, how he just couldn't. She was young, she would never understand.

That struck a nerve, Gendry knew it was a low blow but when she flinched he felt cruel. "I'm not a swooning lady."

"Yes, but you are a lady," Gendry emphasized the word, gesturing with his hands, waving them in meaningless large circles above his head.

"I'm not a lady!"

"Don't tell me you would ever give up the name Stark," he sounded miserable.

"Of course not, but I don't see what that has to do with you not kissing me!"

"I am a bastard; by birth I have no honor. No right to lands or a castle."

"I'd live in the woods," she cut across him, "I'd rather live in the woods."

"I have no knights to keep you safe," he protested.

"Do you really think I need knights to keep you safe? I don't even need you to keep me safe."

Gendry dropped his eyes.

Arya bit her lip. "I just mean—oh, I don't get it. I don't care about any of those things! You know that, so why does it matter?"

"I am a bastard; by birth I have no honor. Does that mean anything to you? Your father was an honorable man; he would hate me to ruin you." Gendry crumbled a leaf between his fingers, focusing on its sharp edges as he spoke. When he was finished he threw the bits in the fire.

"So that's what this is about? You think you'd ruin me?"

He shrugged.

"Gendry, look at me," the words were a command and Gendry obeyed without hesitation. When he looked up he noticed that she was sitting in front of him, quiet as a shadow. She cupped his cheek with her small hand and her eyes were soft, molten metal. "My father was the greatest man I ever knew."

Gendry looked down. Arya's hand was as quick as his eyes, moving down to his chin and jerking his head up. "My father was the greatest man I ever knew," she started over. Gendry sighed through her nose, and Arya smiled softly, letting her hand fall from his face. "But his honor is what killed him in the end. To the seven hells with your honor. If I was a peasant or you were a lord, would it make any difference? No. So I am going to ask you one more time…" she scooted closer to him. Her face half hidden in the shadows of the flames.

Gendry's hands were immobile at his sides as hers wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him too her. When their faces were so close that her features blurred, she murmured against his mouth, "kiss me."

Gendry turned his head to the side and her lips connected with cheek. She leaned back with a huff and pushed him. "You bull-headed boy! I could skin you," but instead she just stalked to the other side of the fire and laid down in a huff. "Good night," she threw over her shoulder at him. It stung as if he'd been hit.

"Good night," he whispered and curled up in the soft foliage. It was the first time in a fortnight that he had laid down without her heat next to him, and the first time in a fortnight that he did not sleep at all.