Chapter Text
The First Time They Slept Together
They had been travelling with Yoren to the way to The Wall, and safe to say it was not safe for a girl. Arya had told no one but the boy with those dark blue sea-like eyes, who was as dumb and stubborn as a bull, yet as steady as a bull. So, she had told him that she was not Arry, she was Arya, Arya Stark of Winterfell. He had immediately freaked out then - the sea-blue of his eyes turned almost black, his chin had dropped like the pail of water in his hands. He went on one knee and started to stumble, "then I should be calling you Mi'lady instead", which obviously pissed Arya off, because she wasn't a lady, Sansa was, her mother was, not her. But it had also hurt her to see how Gendry felt obligated to call her Mi'lady just because he was low-born.
So, being Arya, she had pushed him squarely in the chest, and he laughed - he was too big for her to push over. That pissed Arya off even more, and so she kicked him in the chest, and he fell to the ground, knocking over another pail of water. But he still laughs, and with all the love and amusement in his voice, chuckles, "that's not very ladylike." And Arya decides that she likes him. Although he kept calling her Milady.
Naturally, Arya and Gendry became good friends, and Gendry proclaimed himself the bodyguard of Arya Stark. From urinating to bathing, Gendry was never 10 feet away from the Princess of Winterfell, and even took to sleeping beside her just to protect her from the whole horde of men they were surrounded by.
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It was exactly two weeks since Ned Stark's execution, and Arya remembers the smallest details of her father's panic and worry - not for himself, but for the safety of his children, Sansa and Arya. It had not been long after that she heard something thud on the floor, but by then Yoren had her head in his arms, shielding her from what would have been the most horrific sight to see - not because it was gruesome, but because he was her father.
Arya never slept well from the start. So, when rustling in the leaves woke her up, she stayed still, listening for any clue. Gendry was taking the watch then, and when he saw Arya awake, his eyes started to mold into a shape of love and concern and he rushed to her side immediately.
"What's wrong?" he whispered as he dropped his sword on the floor. Arya grabbed it in her hand before it could reach the muddy floor and pulled Gendry down right before some gold cloaks strolled along the top of the valley. Instinctively, Gendry moved closer towards Arya and slung his muscled hand over her tiny body, just over her ribs, before gently pulling her safely into his embrace - as if it would protect her from all harm. Lucky for them, it was dark, and the gold cloaks were drunk.
"Did you see? All like a show to see. Ned Stark's head on a spike, like a butchered pig on display," one of them laughed.
"Honour was all he's known for, aye, but where was it where his head was getting snipped off?" another of them cried. Gendry felt Arya go stiff in his arms, before violently thrashing around, wanting to go after the gold cloaks, go after her father, go after everything she had. But Gendry held her in her arms, as she went on thrashing, and it wasn't long before she turned around and curled into a ball, and Gendry knew, from her soft shakes, that she was crying.
Gendry knew that she had almost seen her father being mutilated. But having his head on a spike at Kings' Landing was a whole different story. So when Arya Stark sobbed in his arms for the first time, his right hand had naturally went to the small of her back like how hers was tightly bound around Gendry's waist. He rubbed her back in circular motions and waited for her sobbing to die down, waited for her breathing to go back to normal, waited for her to stop flailing about, waited for her to slip back into dreamland. And when she did, he continued holding her in his arms.
When Arya woke up in the morning, the first thing she felt was warmth, which was something she hadn't felt since she fled Kings' Landing. Winter was coming, and with it came the cold. So when Arya first felt warmth in weeks, the first thing she did was to enjoy it - press herself closer to it, as if it was a hot fire. She snuggled closer and dug her way to the space between Gendry's neck and shoulder. Gendry's eyes opened immediately upon the movement, and upon remembering that she was a highborn lady and he a was a smith tried to get her off, but she refused to let go.
Gendry sighed, but his heart raced, and his eyes turned a lighter shade of blue - like the sky. When he felt Arya shivering, he had protectively wrapped his arms around her waist, and then pulled her ontop of him, and then pulled his cloak tighter around them, so that nobody would know.
When Arya opened her eyes, all she saw was thick furs. She smiled to herself - she had fallen asleep at the dining table again, and Jon had accepted her begging to let her sleep with him. She mischievously brought her hand up to Jon's head and pulled at his curls but they weren't there. Did he shave it off? Arya did not have memory of Jon shaving his hair off. Until...
She remembered that she was away from Jon, Jon was at the wall, she was away from Winterfell, and that was Gendry, not Jon. But nevertheless, she slipped her hands underneath his tunic and warmed her poor, little cold fingers. Gendry's stomach shivered upon the contact, and Arya could hear Gendry laughing.
"Cold, ey, mi'lady?" he laughed.
"Shut up," she breathed, before nuzzling her head into his chest, pretending it was Jon.
I miss you, Jon, Arya thought.