Gendry II

A thunderclap of hoofbeats roared through the air. The Brotherhood had taken off fast, their horses rumbling as they raced east. Gendry tried not to think about what would happen when they reached the inn and saw that nothing was awry. By then, he and Arya would be past Raventree Hall, mayhap almost to Ramsford.

He'd been thinking with his cock when he'd offered to take her north. The things they'd been doing of late ought to fill him with shame, or at least sober him enough to ensure his breeches were loose before offering things like riding more than half a thousand miles north in Winter. Instead, all he could think of was the stirring deep below his gut when her skin pressed against his, the way something he could not name bubbled up within him like liquid slag.

It was possible his heart had gotten involved, just a bit, when he'd seen her face fall in the woods. Arya was losing herself. He'd noticed the way she'd wipe her expressions clear like rain washed blood from a battlefield, the unnatural rigidness in her shoulders when her mother was nearby, the uncharacteristic snaps at him for anything at all, the slight tremble in her jaw when she swallowed, whatever the fuck had happened with Harys...I never should have brought her here.No one could remain sane before the ghost of their parent, not even Arya.

Whatever made him offer, there was no going back now.

Arya being Arya, she'd manage fine on her own if she wanted, but Gendry could not let her go alone. Not even if the Brotherhood had become his home.

A hollow feeling spiralled within his gut.

They were the only family he'd known for half a decade. A quarter of his life… Brotherhood was not just a title, it was a true bond. Some were less family than others, admittedly… but still, they remained sworn to a common cause, a truth he believed down to his bones: smallfolk deserved protection. Lords had no right to hoard their grain nor rape their peasant girls nor force their carters and butchers to march for their squabbles. Highborns had their sworn swords and soldiers to fight for them and castles to retreat to; commonfolk had only themselves and the leaking roof above their head. They had gotten away from it a bit in recent years, focused more on stringing up Freys and keeping warm through drink more than protecting commoners, but their true origins remained. Running off with the heir to the North hardly wove neatly within that concept.I can always return once I deliver her safely to the Wall,Gendry told himself.

It was not as though they'd be able to keep things the way they were between them. Arya would have no more need for a lowborn smith when she saw her brother, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.'You can stay here if you'd like. You can smith for the Wall,'she'd probably offer cheerfully, as though he'd gladly throw away his freedoms and the bliss he'd found between her legs.

Gendry made himself move forward. If he thought on this too much, he'd never leave. Arya would run off on her own and he'd be strung up by his brothers, and his maudlin last thoughts would be full of self-loathing for letting her go.

Arya had gone into the grotto she'd shared with her mother most nights.Not the night that-no. There was no time to think about that. She'd already been gone too long.

A flame flickered from the entrance of the cavern, sending shadows and orange light dancing across the Hill's walls. It was quiet,too quiet;only the faint crackle of fire reached his ears.Is this a trap?Lady Stoneheart's sole focus was the wrongs done to her children… surely she would not harm the one within her grasp.

Unsteadily, Gendry turned the corner, doing his best to move in silence. The dirt floor made it easier -quieter than stone, at least- and he crept with his body pressed along the wall until he could see within the space.

The Hangwoman was dead, he could see as much even in the dim light. She lay on the ground as if asleep, her daughter seated beside her corpse. Arya did not move. If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of her chest, he'd have thought her dead, too. Firelight painted her face as warm as sunset as she stared at nothing in particular.

Guilt knotted within his innards, heavy as stone. How many times had they said they needed to deal with their leadership issue? Harwin had suggested it half a dozen times over the years. If they had just seen to this sooner…

"Arya?" He asked lightly.

She stayed still. Somehow, she seemed smaller, as though the act had shrunk her bones.

"We need to leave."

Empty grey met blue as he crouched down to her level. "Do we?" She sounded unsure, like they hadn't come up with a plan for this. Gendry reached out to hold her face the way he had in the rain the week before, but she recoiled like the wary dogs that once roamed the streets of Flea Bottom.

Shadows flashed by the opening to the Hollow Hill, stretched out by the setting sun.

"M'lady?" It was Strongfoot. "M'lady, we've sent a team out to the inn. We'll deal with this quickly."

Gendry grasped Arya's shoulders and pulled her up from where she sat. He pointed towards the dark side of the wall and gently clasped her wrist so she might leave the corpse before they were found. In the northeastern side of the cave lay their best route out of the Hollow Hill. The opening was hidden behind a few stones and logs; Gendry had never seen someone so much as glance at it. It had been carved within the grotto by Ned Dayne, who had always been frightened that he would one day need to escape. As far Gendry knew, there hadn't been any use for it until now.

Never thought I'd be glad for Ned fucking Dayne,Gendry thought bitterly.

"You first," he told Arya more gruffly than he'd meant to. She looked back at her mother for a moment before dropping and crawling through the opening.Finally some desire to live.He covered the entry as best he could and wedged himself in behind her.I'm not going to fit,he panicked. Ned had been thin as a reed, low and slight in frame. He was barely as thick around his waist as Gendry's thigh. Footsteps followed behind him.

"Mother have mercy," Strongfoot said to himself as he came across the Hangwoman, apparently missing the irony of his words. There was no choice. Gendry pressed his way forward through the darkness, shoulders squeezed horribly and dirt falling into his face as his cloak scraped it from above him. There was no light… Arya must not have reached the outside either. A terrible thought occurred to him: was he sure Ned had ever finished the tunnel? He could not remember the conversation all those years back, only the taunting response he'd uttered to the lordling.'Go run back to your castle if you're so worried,'he'd told him with a heavy roll of his eyes.

Gendry forced his way forward. There was no going back now. Either they'd die cramped in this awful hole or they'd reach the other side. He could see nothing; smelled only dirt and the faint scent of weirwood and pine.

He grabbed a root before it gouged out his eye. He could see!

A pale light filtered in, the size of a needle head at first, growing larger with each scrape forward. Soon he could see Arya's silhouette as she crawled along ahead of him. His cock twitched, and he had half a mind to hack it off for its timing.

She tumbled out and he shoved himself forward, grabbing at the muddy hillside as he pried himself out like a pup emerging from some bitch too small for the birth.

"Lad," a disapproving voice called out.Harwin,he knew without looking. The Northman tilted his head at him and raised a thick brow. He looked tired, as though he had aged a decade in the past few years.He probably has.

Gendry readied himself for a blow, but none came. It was deserved after lying to his face like that. He wasn't proud of it, but what else could he have done? It wasn't as though he could say,Oh I appreciate your concern, Harwin, but actually we've been fucking for over a week now. I tried to stop her but now that I've gotten a taste, I don't think I can ever go back. We didn't mean to do it again in the larder. It just happened… and then happened a second time. I know she's a highborn lady, but good luck telling her that.

It had started innocently enough, just a walk through the woods. They hadn't even planned it, it was just that they hadn't spoken in three days, always interrupted by Notch or Torrence or Lady Stoneheart herself when they had a chance to interact. She'd found him when he'd gone to the trees to piss, too restless for sleep.

Once Arya had started talking to him she couldn't stop. She broke open, spilling out her distaste for the Hangwoman and her fury with the Brotherhood, including him, for allowing her mother to become what she had. Gendry had had no choice but to get her to the larder so she wouldn't be overheard. And then, in the dark, sitting before her with her hand in his, he could see the way it tore at her insides, shame tunnelling through flesh and blood and duty alike. How was he to know a conversation would turn into something more, that his comforting hand would turn and caress her without him meaning it to? It was foolhardy, but each kiss and touch and wave of pleasure strengthened their boldness. She'd fallen asleep with her head nestled atop his chest and he could not bring himself to return to his damp, cold cot. Not when he could be warmed inside and out by Arya.

When Harwin had asked him, it was her virtue and his life versus honour. The choice had been simple.

The Northman turned to Arya. "You did what needed to be done, milady. It was you, I know, and I'm sorry for that." His lichen-coloured eyes poured regret. "I will not stop you. Be cautious, the others may be less understanding. I'll do my best to keep them occupied." He stepped aside and gave Gendry one last lingering look before running towards the entrance to the cave.

The one thing Gendry had not thought through was retrieving his horse.

The steed was a kind creature - though exhausted from the ride - with fur the colour of iron that needed a good polish. Harwin had taken it upon himself to name every horse used by the Brotherhood, but he did not always share them with the others. Gendry did not know his mount's name, nor did he want to embarass himself by choosing something new.

He was fucking sick of horses, in truth.

Harwin had shown him every trick and tip over the last few years, and while Gendry could sit more comfortably and get the beasts to listen to him, it still was not natural. After a week of riding as long as he could manage, his backside ached and his balls still hurt from holding himself wrong for a fast, uneven portion of the ride that morning.And now I get to do the same all the way to the Wall,he thought. Mayhaps he was more a fool than he'd realised.

He'd left the horse tied up by the entrance of the Hill.Definitely a fool,he cursed. At least he'd had the foresight to tie Arya's horse, the russet and gold mare she'd ridden to the Crossroads, deeper in the thicket. Getting both horses there was a fucking nightmare. His own horse had kicked the other one twice, and hers had bitten his steed's hip and sent him rearing. It was a gift from R'hllor that they'd made it there together at all.

Gendry turned to his side and told her he'd need to risk the entrance again to ride out.

Arya's gaze was still hollow. She did not react to his voice, if she'd heard him at all. "Hey," he said too loudly. "Are you alright? You need to behere." He'd heard of this before, usually after battles or raids, when men -or women,Arya might have corrected him if she was herself - escaped into their own minds to avoid the memories accosting them.

She narrowed her eyes at his comment. It was something.

He didn't want to leave her by herself. She'd probably fare fine, casually killing anyone who approached her despite her distant state, but Gendry would not risk it. Just the fact she hadn't argued with his concern proved something was wrong.

"Alright, well…" He sighed too loudly, living up to his namesake for a moment. He took her hand in his and led her around to just east of the Hollow Hill, where he could almost see the entrance. It would be only a minute or two to untie the horse. She'd be fine.

Something fast flew by his face.

Gendry looked around but could not see a source.What was that?He had hardly thought the question when it happened again. Arya twisted her hand from his grip to pull him to where she crouched.

R'hllor, he was fucking stupid sometimes.Arrows.

It couldn't be Anguy, Anguy wouldn't have missed. Another arrow hissed through the air. This one hit, but not badly, tearing through the wool of his sleeve and scraping his left forearm.

Arya dropped his wrist and drew that tiny sword she used to love so much. Not the sensible one he'd made her bring, of course. Gendry wanted to watch her to see what she was doing, but another arrow passed his face so close that he felt the fletching tickle his cheek.Who the fuck is this insistent?He drew his own sword and turned to find his attacker.

To his left, a grunt sounded, then a crash. Alyn Carring was on the ground, blood pouring out of a small hole in his throat. Arya wiped Needle on her leg and looked at him.She's here now,he supposed.

Gendry's heart stopped as an arrow missed her by an inch. She turned and scanned the treeline and he did the same. Jack-Be-Lucky rounded the Hill.

"Worth betraying your brothers, boy?" he asked in his sharp voice.

Jack had given him one of the warmest welcomes when he'd been knighted.'Beric's made you a man now,'he'd said with a hearty clap on Gendry's shoulder. Now he charged him with a sword. Arya was running towards something in the distance.She must have found the archer.There was no time to look to see who it was. Jack was almost on him.

He steadied himself and drove his sword as hard as he could at the man he had once called a friend, trying his best not to think of the way they'd laughed over ale at the inn just a few moons prior. His sword hit metal, its point shoving through mail with little resistance. Gendry knew his armour: unriveted chainmail. If Jack had only let him make a new hauberk like he'd offered, his blow would likely not have pierced it. Jack cried out as the sword left his gut, spewing hot, red blood upon the ground. Gendry stabbed through the mail again, through his heart this time, so he would not bleed out like a stuck pig. It seemed almost cruel to kill a one-armed man.

As he withdrew his blade, something hit him. One of the arrows had landed. It burned through his shoulder and sent him reeling back for a moment, but he caught himself well-enough to get his sword out of Jack's chest and ready for the next fight.

The shaft stuck out from beneath his arm and limited how far he could reach. He gnashed his teeth against one another as he ripped it from his flesh.Fucking hell.It was more painful than he'd expected, and something felt wrong once the arrow was free.

A man's scream sounded from the trees, hopefully a sign Arya had taken care of their archer problem. There was a sickening thud as Likely Luke fell from high within a soldier pine and bent in every direction upon the ground.

The world felt strangely unsteady.

Arya's face fell as she approached him, fading from fierce and determined to something akin to pity. Had he fought that poorly?

Gendry's legs felt shaky. He lurched a bit, but a tree caught him.

"Put pressure on it," Arya hissed. For the first time since the cave, her voice had some tint of feeling.Pressure on what?

Oh…He was bleeding… and not a little.

Arya grabbed his fingers to press them against the wound for him, small hands warming his own.

It was no use. The blood that poured from him was as bright as a blade fresh from the forge - Luke had hit something vital. He let his hand drop to his side and shook his head lightly.

"Do it," she urged through the black fringe in his view, taking his hand in hers again to force the motion.

"Arya…" Her name was half a whisper, half a wish. They both knew what would happen. The Lord of Light had been kind enough to grant him as long a life as he had, he was not a fool enough to believe he'd be given another chance. The world spun. He leaned back against the ash trunk. It scraped his back in a pleasant sort of way as he slid down into the open arms of its gnarled roots.

"I can fix this." There was fright in her perfect grey eyes - a refreshing change from the emptiness that unsettled him earlier.

Only highborns think they can stop death,he tried to say, but his voice failed him and his throat scraped out "highborns" with a morose chuckle.

He said her name again, slower this time, taking the time to savour the way it felt on his tongue and lips. It was a good name, he realised. Easy to say. A nice name.Better than Arry.

A look of inspiration set within her brows and she glanced over her shoulder. He tried to turn his eyes to the spot, but they would not leave Arya. He should have spent more time with her; should have seen every angle the sun could cast upon her beautiful face.

Cold washed over him in waves, as though someone had brought him to die by the sea. It submerged his feet and hands first, then rose higher as they sat together in the darkening night.

Gendry focused on Arya again. A thick smear of red followed his thumb as it moved across the crest of her cheek - the only colour in a world rapidly bleeding into dullness.

"I'm glad…" His mind failed him... He couldn't remember what it was he was glad for. Something about her… That she had found him? That their friendship had taken such a turn? That she had sought him out and actuallywantedhim? That she'd been a fresh breeze amidst a stale life, alluring and comforting and impossible to resist? That he'd buried himself inside of her and made damn sure that she gasped and shivered and felt exactly what she did to him? That she was alive and whole? Gendry could not think. It was pathetic, to be so lost within someone so quickly… but it was Arya. Of course it was Arya. There wasn't enough life left to hate himself for this.

He didn't mind this ending, not if she was with him. Gendry thought back to the larder, when the world had shrunk down to a few planks of half-rotted wood and the chill of a Winter night's air, as though they were the only two people alive. A fire had burned within him long after he'd spent himself dry; each lingering kiss had piled on another bit of kindling until he could think of nothing but the warmth in his chest. If he could relive one moment, it would be that.

The trees faded from russet and green to lifeless grey. Soon all he could see was a long, perfect face streaked by the comet they had watched together a lifetime ago.

The ocean washed upon him higher and higher, until he could no longer feel her warm body pressed against his leg or her hand pushing against him. She said something, but he heard only the soothing crash of waves.

With his final breath, he succumbed to the sea's dark embrace.