Gendry had finished it.

Holding it up in the light of the forge fire, he examined his handiwork. It had taken upwards to a week, but the petals looks so delicate and effortlessly weightless. In the shine of the fire, the copper matched the color of her hair-her real hair-and the steam was thin but sturdy. Like a real rose.

It was late when he had finished polishing it, leaving the right amount of shading in the grooves between the layers. He toyed with the idea of waiting until morning to give it to her, as he was sure it would be breaking some code to seek her out at this time of night, but he honestly didn't think he could sleep if he had to go to bed without seeing her reaction.

Uneasily, he made his way to the castle, with a rough linen cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Won't be able to wear these for much longer, he thought as he opened the door to the main hall. Lords don't wear rough spun fabric. He thought of Baelish's ugly doublets and overly fine cloaks- is that what Sansa expected of him? He imaging himself looking more ridiculous than distinguished, dressed up like that. It wasn't who he was.

It is, he thought. At least now.

He made his way to the stairs leading to the library wing. It was cold inside of the castle, but Gendry felt sweat begin to form on his forehead and on his palms. Suppose she didn't like it? Suppose she laughed at it, a stupid trinket from a stupid boy. Why was he even bothering? He should turn around and go back to the forge-

"I don't WANT to go to bed!" he heard that insufferable brat, 'Sweetrobin', cry from the library doorway.

"My lord, it's late..." he heard Sansa's tired voice try to calm him. "Don't you want to be up early enough tomorrow morning so we can take the walk I promised you?"

"Let's take it now," he whined. Gendry shuffled closer to the door, peering in. "I'm the Lord of the Vale, Petyr said so. They have to do what I say,"

Sansa sighed as Sweetrobin latched himself around her waist. "My lord,"

"Come sleep with me Alayne," he cried. "I always sleep better when you're with me,"

"I'll call for the Maester," Sansa said, not acknowledging his request. "He'll give you some sweet milk...you always sleep well on sweet milk,"

"I DON'T WANT SWEET MILK!" he shrieked. Before Sansa could say anything, his tiny head swiveled towards the door.

"Who's there?" he demanded. "Identify yourself! Before I make you fly!"

Gendry quickly stuffed the rose into his breeches pocket. He entered the library cautiously, rubbing the back of his head.

"Gendry," Sansa's voice softened.

"Good evening," he said, in his best lordling voice.

"You're dirty," Robert spoke up.

"Robert!" Sansa chided. "There's no need to be rude!"

"Well he is," Robert turned back to him. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

To wring your little bird neck. "I was coming to check on the two of you," he said to Robert, before looking back up to Sansa and seeing her small smile creep through her disguise.

"We're fine," Robert stuck his tongue out. "Alan has been watching me, I don't need a stupid, dirty, babysitter."

"My lord," Sansa ducked down to his level. "I think it's time you go to bed,"

"Come with me!" Robert said. Behind him, Gendry could feel another presence. He turned quickly to see the older Maester clutching a vial. He slipped past him and into the room.

"NOOO!" Robert cried. "I don't WANT to. You have to listen to me! I'm the lord!"

"That may be," the Maester said. "But even lords have to go to sleep,"

"I hate you!" Robert spat. "You're old, and smelly!"

The Maester sighed before bending over to pick the boy up. Sweet robin struggled against him, throwing a tantrum as he was carried out of the room.

With the door closed, Gendry turned back in time to see Sansa face drop. She fell back onto the bench she had been sharing with her charge, and sighed heavily.

"Handful, that one," Gendry said, walking over to her.

"He's sick," she said quickly.

"And a brat," Gendry countered.

She smiled up at him. "And that,"

Suddenly, he became self conscious and looked to the fire in the room. It was roaring, and sending off an enormous amount of heat.

"Would you like to sit with me?"

He turned back to Sansa, whose hair was lighting up. Her hair was dyed back to the black it was supposed to be, but he could still see the flecks of red shining through. Her fire refuses to die.

Carefully, he sat down next to her and looked at his feet. She wouldn't let him off so easily, though.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she said, reaching her hand out to lay on his dirty hand. "What's captured your attention so?"

"I've...been busy."

"Really?" she said. "By all means, keep me waiting."

He gave a short laugh before looking up at the wall, trying to avoid eye contact. He was awful at this, why Baelish had plucked him from that inn on the Kingsroad to come back and be this beautiful woman's husband...it was beyond him.

"Gendry," she said softly. He turned back and looked at her. Her face was soft, but with the unmistakeable look of concern. Quickly, Gendry dove into his pocket, not wanting to have her think something was wrong. He withdrew the rose, and handed it to her.

"I tried making it as quick as a I could," he said. Sansa's breath hitched as she reached out to take it from him, her fingers grazing his as she took it into her hands, cradling the blossom in her palm as her other thumb ran the length of the stem. "I just couldn't get it right. The copper was brittle, and the petals kept falling apart...I had to start from scratch a few times-" he turned back to look at her, expecting her to be angered at his ugly gift, or, by some miracle, happy, but she was neither. She was crying.

"Oh...Oh no, did I do something wrong? Seven hells, I-"

"No!" she spoke up, and he froze. "No," she said, softer this time. She looked back down to the flower. "It's-it's perfect. It really is. It's been so long since anyone showed me some kindness without wanting anything in return. I guess I forgot how it felt to have someone..." she trailed off, grasping for the words to say.

"To care about you?"

She looked up at him, a bit shocked. He smiled at her and, carefully, as if he had never done it before, reached out to touch her face. As gently as he could, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, taking a tear away. "You're welcome,"

He moved to leave, but she had grabbed his hand. When he turned to ask her what was wrong, she crashed her lips against his. As quickly as it had happened, she pulled back, with a look of surprise, as if she was shocked by her own behavior.

"Sorry," she said, looking back down at her hands.

"Don't be," he whispered, his fingers reaching up to brush his lips. "Sansa..."

"I can be impulsive," she smiled, looking back at him. "But don't think this means you'll get to come into my bed before the wedding,"

"What?! No, I would never-" Sansa laughed at his fluster, before he found out she was joking. He laughed in spite of himself.

"Thank you for this," she said, gesturing back to the rose after a beat. He looked back down at her hands, having forgotten the rose entirely.

"Of course," he said. She turned back and looked at him, letting her eyes linger on his, then fall to his lips, before speaking again.

"I should...go to bed." she said. She looked back into his eyes again. He felt his head give a small nod, never taking his eyes off her pretty mouth. Her head turned to look at the door, breaking his trance.

"I'll walk you," he said.

Sansa looked back at him, as if she was going to correct him.

"I'm not trying to- I just want to make sure you get there safe,"

He didn't have to say anything. His small hints during their small amounts of time together, Sansa had picked up on his mistrust of Petyr. She had caught him standing in the doorways during her discussions with Petyr, and saw his body clench with discomfort whenever her guardian put his hands upon her, as innocent as it may seem.

"Very well," she said. Almost instinctively, she wrapped her forearm around his, her fingers grazing his bicep. Gendry was surprised by how natural it felt.

They walked in silence down the corridors, listening to the sound of their footsteps. Occasionally they would pass by a window, and Gentry's eyes would fall to Sansa, her skin glowing in the moonlight, her hair reflecting back its silver. Every step they got closer to her quarters he resented. He would have walked all night around this maze of stone and sky as long as she was next to him.

Sansa stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and turned to him. Her hair was loose, long, framing her sweet face as she looked up at him.

"Thank you, for walking me," she smiled. She turned to unlock the door but he caught her forearm,and quickly spun her around, pressing his lips against hers.

Lemon he thought. That's what that taste is.

After a moment, he pulled away. Sansa face had an odd expression about it- dazed like a dream. But when she looked back into his eyes, there was an unmistakeable feel to her stare. Hunger.

"Goodnight, Sansa." he said, turning to walk his way back to the forge.

"Goodnight," she called out softly. She quickly pushed open her door and fell against it, shutting it. Alone in her room, safe from any onlooking eyes, analyzing her face for small slips or a glance behind the mask she had learned to wear, she allowed herself to smile. She held the rose out to her face, and looked into the petals.

Roses. How did he know she loved roses?

:::::::::::::

Hey guys!

Thanks for reading. I know this is kind of a crack ship, but I love it. Your reviews make my day in the middle of finals. I'm going to try to keep updating this as much as I can through out hell week. I'm working on another Gendry/Sansa story at the same time, it's called 'You Don't Know Me'. Apparently I'm the only one of who writes Gendry/Sansa, so check it out if you need more! Or write some yourself! Let's make this ship grow.

Thanks again guys!