Hey guys, so I am in love with AryaxGendry and figured I should write something of my own. This ended up being a bit longer then I thought it was going to be but I hope you enjoy it all the same!
GRRM owns aSoIaF and everything wonderful about it.
Enjoy and Review!
Summary: Arya did not know how she came to be in this situation. One second she was about to get her hands on that beautiful wolf claw dagger, and the next she was being pressed up against the wall of the forge with an angry mouth at her ear.
Gendry pounded away at the armor he was fixing, the cold blowing through the open window a relief to the heat in the forge. He never thought the north would be this cold until he got here and realized for himself; the Starks certainly are right when they say 'Winter is Coming'.
Once the war was settled and the brotherhood disbanded, Gendry found himself heading north. Once Bran the new King in the North had rebuilt Winterfell, peace was made with the Dragon Queen. At first he thought his feet were taking him to Winterfell, thinking maybe he could find work smithing for the King, but he never made it past Cerwyn. He had stopped there and started to work odd jobs, planning on making enough coin to finish his journey and have a bit to start off with in Winterfell. However, he could not bring himself to leave. He felt there was a ghost in Winterfell, a ghost of a girl he once knew that he did not think he could face. So he stayed in Cerwyn, just south of Winterfell, eventually taking over the forge when the old master passed.
His skill had grown considerably working for the Brotherhood, he soon had more work than time to complete it, and took on an apprentice, Tom, who learned the craft as well as manned the store connected to the forge.
While he finished buffing out the dent on the chest piece he was working on, Tom ducked into the forge, singling for Gendry's attention. He lowered his hammer, and wiped the sweat off his forward, nodding for Tom to speak.
"There's a customer her asking 'bout the dagger on display, Master Gendry."
Gendry knew the dagger in question, "You know that it's not for sale Tom," he said, waving the boy off and picking his hammer up, intending to get back to work.
But Tom remained, "I know, sir, I told 'em but the customer insists".
Gendry hated customers who didn't listen, he took two swift strides, reaching the curtain connecting to the store and pulling it aside with his hammer, growling "Daggers' not for sale," only to find himself facing an empty room. "Tom, you idiot, stop wasting my time and get back to work."
Returning to his anvil, Gendry thought more on the dagger in question. It was one of his finest pieces, and would fetch a high price if he wished to sell it, only it was meant to be a gift. It was a long dagger, just shy of being considered a sword, with a thin, slightly curved blade, half the width of a normal sword. Its handle was a frightening wolfs paw, with almost excessive detailing. Four sharp claws extended out over the blade, and sheath. The sheath was a violent scene, with four claw marks inlayed with red metal, twisted the length of the cover, showing the wolf slashing at its enemies. It had consumed a great many nights of his time in the brotherhood, when he couldn't sleep due to his dreams.
She was constantly invading his dreams then, his little she-wolf. Dreams of her dying at the hands of the Hound or at the hands of some faceless foe. Sometimes the Gods would be good to him and send him a dream where they were just sitting together and talking like they used to, but mostly he dreamt of how he left her and was not there when she needed him most. Once he heard of her marriage to the bastard that was not him; and knew her to be alive, his dreams began to take a different turn. She was older in them and so very beautiful; she would still call him a stupid bull headed boy, but that was only after they collapsed from the pleasure their naked bodies created pressed so close together.
Once these dreams began, and he could not close his eyes save to see her writhing in pleasure beneath him, he would go to the forge and try to pound those thoughts from his head. After several occurrences, he finally realized what it was he was creating, a dagger for his little wolf. Smaller then a sword, but perfect for her slight frame. Light enough for her to wield easily and strong enough to cut through her enemies.
After its' completion, he began his journey north, intending to present it to the King, since giving it to her brother seemed better than no Stark ever receiving it. Except that it was meant for her, so he settled close to Winterfell, so if she was actually alive and did come home he would hear about it, and be able to present it to her himself.
He finished up the chest plate, satisfied with it at last; night had begun to fall while he was lost in his thoughts, so he sent Tom home and closed up shop. He dropped his tired body into the cot in the back of the forge and fell asleep.
Arya was almost home, she landed in White Harbor a fortnight passed, and was traveling along the south side of the river toward Winterfell. She had heard of her younger brothers and sisters' survival and knew she could not be faceless if Arya Stark still lived hidden in her heart. She paid for a voyage north from Braavos and bought a horse once she landed. While she avoided the main road for most of her journey, she crossed the river at the Kingsroad and followed it into Cerwyn, a town just south of Winterfell.
She kept her head covered at she went through town, intending to stay here for the night before starting for home at first light. After paying for a room at a local inn, watering her horse, she decided to explore the town, as she had not been there since she was a child, and it seemed to have changed quite a bit.
She found the blacksmith's shop and slid in, intending to see if anything caught her eye and something certainly did. Sitting on the counter in front of a young boy, was the most beautiful dagger Arya had seen. It seemed to glow in comparison to all the metal around it. If anything screamed Arya Stark it was this weapon. She walked up to the counter to examine it closer, the handle seemed built for her hand, the blade gleaming, screaming for her to use it. She turned toward the boy, who was watching her intently. "How much?"
"Sorry, that's not for sale," replied the boy, trying to look under her hood to see her face. "Just t' show what the Master can do."
"Well why show it if it is not for sale? I wish to buy it, go find out how much it will cost for him to part with it," Arya demanded, knowing she was going to get this blade one way or another.
The boy shuffled to the curtain where the forge must have been located, given the sounds of metal singing. The hammer stopped, and Arya heard the boy murmur something, she moved closer to hear what was being said.
"-at it's not for sale Tom,"
Arya's heart stopped. No, he was surely dead, how could that stubborn bull have survived the wars while running around with the brotherhood. She skipped closer, silent as a shadow, and peered through the curtain. She had to stifle a gasp, and then sneaked out the front before he could pull the curtain back.
Leaning against the outside of the forge Arya had to calm her racing heart. He was here. Just a day's ride from her home. He was here working in a forge, bigger then she remembered, taller; but his eyes, there was no denying it, those bright blue eyes and that black, black hair could only belong to her Gendry. One of the lost members of her pack.
She did not know what to do, if she wanted to face him or not; he was the one who was planning on leaving her, why should she come back to him after that? She thought back on that dagger, it was meant for her, she knew it when she saw it, and knowing it came from Gendry only confirmed her feeling. Well, if he didn't want to sell it, she would just take it herself, the faceless men taught her well. Plus she'd leave some coin on the counter to appease him.
He was dreaming of her again, but this time she was a direwolf, moving so softly he couldn't hear her feet-no paws- touch the ground. She walked slowly toward him, pausing right before him, standing up on her hind legs and placing her front paws on his shoulders. Except now they were hands, and he saw her face, clearer then it's been in any other dream, she must have been seven and ten now, five years younger than him. Her long brown hair was curling softly at the ends, and brushed against him as she leaned forward. Her grey eyes pinning him against the wall of the forge, her lips getting closer and closer until-
He opened his eyes, sighing, 'so close' he thought, she looked so beautiful, he could even see her light freckles dancing across her nose. But something was wrong, he couldn't hear anything, it was too quiet, he sat up a quietly as he could, turning toward the curtain to the store. Furrowing his brows, he thought, "I locked up, and I didn't hear anything, there can't be anyone there". But something was putting him on edge. He crept up toward the doorway, and there he was! A thief inches away from his-Aryas!- dagger. He leapt forward, grabbing the small boy and pinning him against the wall of the forge.
"Who do you think you are, thief, to think you'd get away with stealing from me," He breathed angrily in the boy's ear.
The boy wiggled against his hold, but Gendry held tight. He moved more vigorously and suddenly Gendry was aware of some interesting curves brushing up against him.
'A girl?' Gendry thought, 'what kind a girl steals a dagger?' He thought unwittingly of Arya, 'besides her, she's lost, remember you idiot'. He leaned his face away from the boy-no girls ear, taking both of her small hands in one of his, he reached up and pulled the hood away from her face.
Gasping, Gendry almost released his hold on her. It couldn't be; but those eyes, those freckles, it was his dream all over again. This couldn't be real, she could be here of all places.
"Arya?" He whispered.
How did he catch her? She was as being as silent as a shadow, no one could even sense her when she was trying to not be seen or heard. Yet, one second she was about to get her hands on that beautiful wolf claw dagger, and the next she was being pressed up against the wall of the forge with an angry mouth at her ear.
"Who do you think you are, thief, to think you'd get away with stealing from me," He-Gendry, she thought, breathed into her ear.
His voice sent tingles through her body, she knew she could get out of his hold in seconds if she wanted, but somehow her training slipped her mind. And she started squiring to get him to let her go. She felt his hard chest press against her to try and get her to stop moving, but it only made her fight harder. She couldn't handle this, being so close to him, his smell, him surrounding her, her brain just shut off.
Her hood was being pulled down, and she found herself staring into those bright blue eyes she saw a glimpse of earlier. His breath went out of him in a puff, blowing on her face, causing her to blink up at him as her name fell from her lips in a whisper, "Arya?"
The End! Hope you enjoyed it! I might continue this, but I really have no idea, so for now it's a one-shot! Let me know what you think!
EDIT: So I decided I will be making this a two-shot, which is why I moved it to the in-complete section, don't know when I'll have time to write but I'll try to get it up soon.
If you shoot me a prompt it might inspire me to write another little story about them!