Flickering torchlight reflects of his empty plate as, behind an upturned flask of wine, Gendry looks around Winterfell's crowded hall. The mood is solemn, partly due to the fact that its the night before their remaining forces begin the long march south to King's Landing. The final war right around the corner, everyone's guts were tightened and minds preoccupied as they ate the last warm meal they may ever eat. Gendry Baratheon too is distracted as his eyes rove over the head table where an anxious Jon, a stoic Dragon Queen, and a slack-faced lady Stark sit in silence.

He doesn't see the one his gaze always seems to gravitate to. To be honest, it's both a relief and a torture. However, it's the next bit of conversation he hears, behind him, that grabs his attention entirely.

"Left without a word apparently. Left with the Hound."

"Lady Arya traveling with The Hound? Now that's a frightful duo."

"I saw 'em myself while I was out patrolling the walls. Saw 'em meet up on the road and head south. Guess they got their orders to move out before the rest of us."

"Do you think its true?"

"What?"

"You know, that Lady Arya's become an assassin."

"Aye, it's true. Killed the Night King didn't she? Sides, you saw Lord Baelish's trial."

"You mean execution."

"Quick with a dagger our Lady Arya is."

"Cold blooded to boot."

"Can she really be called a lady though? I mean, she's nothin' like our fair Lady Sansa."

"Watch your tongue before I rip it out."

"Lady Arya may not be your traditional lady but I'd lay down my life for her all the same."

"To the Night King Slayer!"

"Here! Here!"

"Come in." A candle before her, Sansa looks up from sitting at the table in the Winterfell library. The sight of the person standing half shadowed yet clearly awkward in the door way surprises her. Nonetheless, she manages to keep her calm Lady of Winterfell appearance as she states, "How can I help you, Lord Baratheon."

"Pardon the intrusion mi'lady," Gendry nods. "But I was hoping I might speak to you about something."

Figuring it was better to have a distraction to keep her from having to continue to squint at the parchments before her, Sansa waved him on with words. "Why don't you sit and tell me how can I be of assistance?"

"It's-It's about… It's about your sister," Gendry tailed off, taking up the offered seat all while feeling relatively small in the taller Lady Stark's overwhelming presence. Settling himself, Gendry continued his thinking that this was all a horrible idea indeed. However, what he had overheard in the dining hall earlier bothered him greatly and he knew he wouldn't be able to rest that night unless he had answers.

"Arya?" Sansa asked with a regally lifted brow as she questioningly appraised the other. "What has my sister done that forces you to come to me now?"

Nervously backpedaling, Gendry flounders. "N-No! She hasn't done anything! Truly, she hasn't! I-I just…," Gendry stifles the urge to bury his face in his hands. Instead, he just sighs, steeling his resolve and, with a steady breath, presses on. "I heard some things about Lady Arya and wanted to know if they were true."

Gendry's stomach clenches as he watches the Lady of Winterfell's features harden at his ill-chosen words. Sansa was very different from Arya in almost every respect with red toned hair, fair skin, clean nails, and a highborn's demeanor. However, Gendry found an uncanny likeness in the two sister's icy glares.

"If you wish to know anything of my sister, Lord Baratheon, I think it wise if you ask her yourself. Arya was never one for idle gossip and neither am I."

"No, that's not-" Gendry shook his head with yet another sigh. "You see, I would love to ask her but she's already left with The hound."

"Arya's left Winterfell?" Sansa asked, her veneer clearly cracked.

"Headed south to King's Landing from what I hear." Gendry relies with just a hint of bitterness that does not go unnoticed by the other.

"But why would she-?"

"Unfinished business," Gendry replied, certain. "Not too sure of the names still left on her list, but Cersei Lannister has always been somewhere at the top."

Utterly dumbfounded, the words fall out of Sansa's mouth unchecked. "You know of Arya's list?"

Gendry shrugged. "No matter where we ended up, every night, I always heard her reciting the same bloody names."

"Then I'm afraid you know my sister far better than I."

Gendry shook his head, thinking back on what he'd just learned at dinner and what he had later learned from asking Sir Davos about it all. "Not if what I heard is true. Heard someone say she's become an assassin. Do you know if that holds any water?"

Sansa shrewdly looked over the other. They have never spoken nor shared a glance. "Why come to me?" She pried. "Why not ask Jon. I hear you and he have a base kinship at best. Why aren't you asking him?"

"Was told you orchestrated Lord Baelish's trial," Gendry confessed. "Figured Arya must have told you something important to have you falsely accuse her of treason even if it was all for show."

"I'm sorry," Sansa replied, once again stoic, "Even if she had, my sister's business is still her own."

"Please, m'lady I," Gendry pleaded, "I have to know."

Sansa could not find any hints of falsehoods written within the other's words or features. Gendry truly looked to be a man hurting. Wondering exactly what Arya had done to get under this man's skin so, she prompted, "Answer me this then. What is she to you that makes you so stubborn?"

"Everything," Gendry immediately replied, heart ever on his sleeve. "She's everything to me."

"You love her?" Sansa asked, hands to her mouth and wholly shocked.

"And yet she doesn't love me back," Gendry replied with a wounded smile. "I thought she did, but I was wrong."

"How can you be so certain?"

"I asked for her hand and she clearly refused."

"You-" Quickly coming back to herself, Sansa sighed. "I clearly know nothing of my sister's affairs." Looking over the man on the other side of the table who was clearly still hurting from Aryas rejection, Sansa relented. "First, why do you want to know if my sister is an assassin? What good would it do you to know such a thing?"

"Said no to my proposal, she did, but I can't help but care about her still. I just need something … anything to help me understand her better."

After a stretch of silence, Sansa made her decision. Besides, it may help the poor man move on if she told the truth.

"My sister," Sansa began with a measure tone, "says she has trained to become what she refers to as a faceless man. Now, I'm not entirely sure of its exact definition. However, she did once tell me how simple it would be to take my face and my place after all."

"You mean like," Gendry swallowed, "actually slicing the flesh off someone's face to wear it like a mask?"

"Yes. Although I haven't seen her do it myself, I have seen one of her masks."

"Seven hells… "

"Does that change your view of her?"

"No," Gendry replied, not even having to mull it over. "But it does leave me with so many questions. Like does she have to wash the bloody things first before she puts them on and can she change her voice to match the person too?"

"Her newfound skills don't bother you at all?"

"Why would they?"

"She kills and takes people's faces," Sansa said like it was a more than obvious thing.

"But she wouldn't do it to just anyone would she? Besides, we're all killers aren't we? I mean, I've killed my fair share of people on the battlefield with my hammer and you highborns always do when you send your people off to fight in your wars."

Gendry caught himself too late. "Sorry, m'lady. I didn't mean to-"

"No, you're right. Your only mistake is that you too are a high borne now. You will be learning how that decision isn't made lightly I can assure you. …But back to my sister. It doesn't bother you that she's the exact opposite of what a lady should be?"

"Arya's always been her own person and I love that about her. I mean, what lady do you know talks down to The Hound like he's just some average smallfolk and can shoot arrows like an expert marksman? She had me make a weapon I had never made before for her and she used it to get to the Night King. She's the savior of all man and she's beautiful, funny, brave, kind, loyal, and exciting and now you've got me rambling on and on about her while making myself look like an arse…" Gendry scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, m'lady, don't mean to keep cursing in front of you."

"Its quite alright," Sansa smiles, her mood light from hearing all of his obviously heartfelt words. She could hardly believe that someone like the late King Roberts legitimized son actually had fallen so much in love with her tomboyish sibling. A part of her still couldn't get over the shock. But Sansa was overjoyed for Arya too and another part of her couldn't help but wonder….

"What did you say to Arya when you asked her to marry you?"

"I told her she was beautiful and I loved her and that my title and lands wouldn't mean anything If she wasn't with me. So I said be with me. Be the Lady of Storm's End."

Gendry watched Lady Sansa's face turn into itself like she had just tasted something quite sour.

"They would have been beautifully romantic words for anyone but my sister. Did she tell you she's not a lady?"

"'Fraid so."

"Well, she isn't and she never was. My sister has always been wild. But if you truly love her than you must already know all of this already."

Gendry drew an angry face at her words and the memory of his own words of proposal. "I do, but I was made stupid by the drink and being just given a title. I wasn't thinking straight when I asked her … and now look where it's got me."

"What exactly was my sister's reply, if you don't mind my asking."

Gendry shrugged. "She kissed me and then she said I would make a fine lord and that any lady would be lucky to have me. But she wasn't a lady. She never had been. It wasn't her."

Gendry felt uncomfortable underneath the lady's next silent scrutiny. He almost gave a sigh of relief when she finally spoke. Her words were whispered, like she was speaking an epiphany out loud to test how it sounds.

"She rejected the proposal yet she said no words that indicate she rejected the man."

Several moons have passed since Arya started her journey. Night blankets the bit of forest that now has become her earthen bed.

"Didn't tell anyone, did you?" The Hound questions around a chunk of stale bread.

"Tell anyone what?"

"That you left on this fucking fools errand seeking your own death."

"My business is my own. And I'm not seeking death."

"The fuck you aren't. Only lame dogs go off to die alone."

"Are you a lame dog?"

"Little bitch, I let you tag along, didn't I? Do I look like I'm fucking alone?"

"Well, that means I'm not alone either."

"You will be when I'm dead."

At this, The Hound turns away, but not without gruffly voicing his last thoughts of the night.

"Should've at least told that fucking sister of yours or that cunt lord blacksmith. Wasted effort to love a cold bitch like you. Hope their eyes stay dry when you die."

Arya doesn't say anything. She just stares into the flames that barely keep her warm.

I'm doing this for them, she thinks as certain familiar faces look back at her in the crackling fire. Even if the lone wolf dies, I'll make sure my pack survives.

Bells are ringing, green wildfire is burning, and dragon fire lights the already smoke filled sky. Shrill screams fill the air as does the stink of burnt stone, wood, and flesh. It's mass chaos in King's Landing and Gendry is doing all he can just to stay alive. He wonders if she too is here and in what part of the city she is fighting. But a sword comes calling to claim his head and Gendry gets his head back in the battle.

Having rounded a corner of the battlements, The Mountain found them before The Hound and Arya were ready. The patched together man's sword had found a home in Arya's side, before an enraged Hound pushed it off her. Her gloved hand stanches the weeping wound's flow now as The Hound smashes The Mountain through a low stone barrier. It's too late to yell or scream as they go tumbling over the side of battlements and into the fiery blaze below. They are two names on her list that she silently scratches off now – even if one of them, just like Beric, had ultimately saved her life in return.

Pushing away the pain from her wound and the one in her heart, she turns away from the flames consuming the man who was a foul mouthed crotchety old bastard and yet something like a father to her. There was one more name to go and then her list would be done.

However, she has no idea that Jaime Lannister would get to Cersei first and that he would stab his sister in the stomach and then himself for his crime.

The battle in King's Landing is finished, but can anyone call themselves the victor as the walls burn and the streets are filled with the dead and dying.

"All hail King Aegon Targaryen," Varys quietly says as he, Tyrion, Gendry, and Jon approach the final prize. However, it is not a treasure to be won to some.

Heart and head still a mess after watching Daenerys die with her last dragon, Jon scowls at the iron seat made of swords. With a shake of his head, he speaks truly. "I refuse. I told you before, just like I keep telling any who listen, I don't want the bloody thing! I refuse to be made king!"

Its Tyrion who tries to bring reason. "You are the rightful male heir and the only one it can be."

"I refuse!" Jon bellows again, tired of it all, tired of this damned conquest for power taking everything he loves. Having made up his mind before they had even entered the hall, he tells them his future he has set for himself. "I renounce the Targaryen name and give up every stake that bloody name would have given me. Instead, I will remain a Stark and go north of the wall to live with the wildlings!" Glaring at the throne, he all but snarls, "This damned thing has done more harm to my family than any sword ever could! I will not sit upon it!"

Again, it was Tyrion who tried to find the silver lining. "Well, those that go that far north are outside royal jurisdiction…"

It was Varys who spoke next as he turned to a blank-faced Gendry. "Well, if there are no more Targaryens left to us, I suppose bloodlines dictate the crown should fall to the last living Baratheon."

"No," Gendry shook his head dully; for he too had decided his own fate the moment he realized Daenerys' death meant he was no longer a lord. "I'm done being anyone's puppet. Besides," thinking about his whole reason for accepting the late Mother of Dragon's offer, he added, "what I want is beyond the reach of even kings and lords. No. With the queen gone, I'm just a bastard. Think I'll live out my days as a blacksmith for Jon if you'll have me."

Surprised and yet still overly emotional, Jon gave a single nod back in return.

"Well…" Tyrion began, but a frustrated Varys cut him off.

"Fine. Tyrion, you take it!"

"What?"

"Neither the Targaryen nor the Baratheon want it which leaves the last living male Lannister with a claim to the throne. Take it. This is nonnegotiable!"

Tyrian laughed. "I'd rather melt it down than sit on that blasted thing."

Up in arms, Varys exclaims, "For the good of the realm, someone must sit on this bloody throne! Since the other two pigheadedly refuse their names and claims, it has to be you! Or are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you're going to go off and live with the wildlings too?"

"Take it, "Jon urges. "You're a good man and obviously my sister trusts you. If Sansa would be willing to work with any king, I believe it would be you."

"Wait," Tyrion says, his brilliant mind having caught on to something at the mention of the fair lady of Winterfell. "If I agree to become king I will have one stipulation."

"Name it," Varys eagerly said, more than willing to move things along to be able to crown someone at least.

"If I take the crown, I'll only take it as the King in the South."

"And what of the North?"

"I'll leave the lady Sansa of Winterfell to be the Queen in the North."

"Why not just marry her?" Varys questioned clearly at a loss.

"Because," Tyrion sighed. "I refuse to force that poor girl into marrying anyone ever again, much less myself for a second time. Once is more than enough, I'm sure."

"Thank you." Jon told him with earnest eyes and an open heart.

"Don't thank me yet," Tyrion quipped. "Save your thanks when I've finally proven to the small folk that another Lannister is what they need. It's going to be a rather uphill battle what with everything my dearly departed sister left behind."

In a singed corner of King's landing castle, Arya slumps against a piece of wall not too far away from the bodies of the dead. In clear view of Cersei's corpse, Arya finishes the last stitch of the needle through her own flesh with a painful cry. Still, as long as she keeps the wound clean, she knows she will survive. With Cersei and the Dragon Queen gone, she was certain that Jon would become King. She knew Sansa would never be able to hold her tongue. If anything, Arya guessed her loose-lipped sister probably already told Varys or even Tyrion. Her brother turned cousin would rule the 7 kingdoms and Sansa would remain the Lady of Winterfell. Bran would do whatever the 3-eyed Raven does and…

Gendry would learn to rule Storm's End with whatever lady he took. The thought is almost as painful as the hurt she feels as she goes to stand.

"I'm done here," she growls, through clenched teeth as she haphazardly makes a path through the scattered debris. Feeling empty and more than lost, she doesn't mean she's finished with just her list, but of her stay in Westeros as well.

"You know well my reasons for heading far beyond the wall," Jon told his silent traveling partner "But, if you don't mind me asking, I'd like to know yours."

Gendry, shrugged. "Like you, the title of king would've been ash in my mouth."

"But why follow me?"

"Where else would I go? …Besides, if I stay near you I might see her again."

"Who? I don't understand." Jon questioned. Then, with a lighter tone, he prodded, "Something tells me you have a story and we still have a long way to go."

"Not much of a story really," Gendry replied looking away as they galloped along the dusty trail with their horses side by side. "But it may not be one you want to hear."

"How so?" Jon asked with a frown.

"To put it plainly?" Gendry began and then sighed. "I fell in love with that sister of yours and she kindly broke my heart."

"Sansa did?" Jon asked, shocked.

"Arya."

"Arya?" Jon shook his head clearly confused. "How did this happen? When did this happen? I wasn't even aware you two even knew of each other."

"Oh, but we do and here I am," Relenting, Gendry begins with another sigh, "Ours goes back to a time when we were both escaping King's Landing, right after her lord father was executed. Got passed around from the Black Guard caravan, to the Boltons, and The Brothers Without Banners we did. You already know how my story with the brotherhood goes."

"They sold you to the Red Witch."

"Aye, but not before Arya asked me to be her family and I all but told her no," Gendry adds bitterly. "Ironic when you think about it. I tell her no then and then she tells me no now."

"What do you mean?"

"The second I was named Baratheon I ran off to find her. Two guesses what I asked."

"You didn't."

"I did," Gendry scowls. "Be the lady of Storms End, I asked all on bended knee." An angry shake of the head. "Wish I never did that. Wish she never kissed me before that. Wish I could get her out of my stupid head now!"

"You love her." Jon's statement sparks a fire in the other.

"Of course I do! Wouldn't be sitting her whinging on about her if I didn't!" Gendry looked away with an attempt to calm down. "Sorry, she just gets under your skin and you can't get her out, you know? I mean, she's the most manipulative, conniving, beautiful, absolute warrior of a woman and I…I'll never find another quite like her. Don't want to."

"So, that's why you're going."

"Pathetic in the grand scheme of things, I know, but it's my reason and this is the future that I chose."

"What exactly did Arya say to you? When you asked for her hand?"

Gendry shrugged. "She said no."

"What were her exact words?"

"Twisting the knife, eh?"

"Humor me."

Gendry sighed, "She said you'll make a fine lord and any lady would be lucky to have you, but I'm not a lady. I've never been. That isn't me."

Jon nodded. "Well, Arya always refused to be like her sister Sansa. It doesn't surprise me that she said that to you."

"Again with the twisting," Gendry replied. "That's the same thing Lady Sansa told me when I told her."

"You told Sansa?" Jon quirked a brow, thinking he surely knew nothing like others have claimed. "You've talked to Sansa about this?"

"That's another long story," Gendry said back. "But she basically said the same thing, that I should've known better than to ask Arya to be the Lady of Storm's end."

"Well, your talk with Sansa does surprise me, but what does surprise me even more," Jon continued, "is the fact that my little sister didn't say she could never love you." Jon searched the skies with a fond smile. "Stark women are proud and fierce. None more so than Arya. It should make you feel better to know that she may have rejected the offered title but maybe not so much the man."

"Again, the same words as Lady Sansa. Even so, it doesn't make me feel any better. Not really. I mean, I never expected Arya to be anyone but her cocky hateful self. I thought she knew that."

"Did you ever tell her that."

"Well, no, but-"

"Maybe you should."

The wind rustled her hair as she closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of salt water and fish around her. The road was long from King's Landing, but she finally found her way to a small fishing port by the sea. She could have found a boat in King's Landing, but she didn't want to stay any longer in that ruined city than she had to. No. She was leaving Westeros from here, but she wasn't leaving Arya Stark behind, nor her family. They all had found their roles to play and she needed to find herself. She would write letters to Sansa and Jon later and tell them of her decision. Besides, this wasn't goodbye forever. She would come back and visit when she wanted. Besides, a part of her couldn't bear being in the same lands where she might hear of the goings on at Storm's End. She didn't want to hear of any arranged marriages or new babes being born in the Baratheon bloodline. She made a mental note to kindly ask her siblings to keep those tidbits of information out of their own letters to her.

"Another Lannister on the throne. Just what we need."

"You're telling me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Arya turned to the two fisherman loading up their boat.

The nearest one gave her a look as if to say what rock had she crawled out under. "You know, the imp. Our new king."

"Jon refused the throne," a new voice spoke up behind her. "And so did I."

Heart in her throat, Arya froze. Seeing this new development, the two fishermen decided it was high time they moved on to another boat some distance further down the dock. Arya was thankful, because she wasn't even sure she could endure this herself.

"You don't have to turn around, but I would like it if you listened," the voice behind her said.

Arya didn't move. She couldn't move. Her muscles were betraying her. Heart thumping loudly in her chest, her prolonged silence prompted the all too familiar voice to continue.

"'The night I asked you for your hand, we were equal in title then, but never in character. I mean, you've always known who and what you are while I had just been named a lord and still had no idea who or what I should be. If you had accepted my proposal you would have been miserable, forced into a position that isn't you next to an idiot like me. So, I'm not angry you refused. Actually, I'm glad you told me no."

Gendry's shoulders squared as he spoke next with a determination deepening his voice. "With that said, one day I will be your equal and when that day comes, I'll find you. Wherever you may be, I'll find you again and this time… This time I'll make sure it's you who falls in love with me."

With no more names on her list to cling to, the damn inside her breaks. She digs the heels of her palms into her traitorous eyes that leak hot and heavy. Gendry's here. He's right here, saying he loves her and he would wait for her and later come and find her and… It's all too much to bear. How could this idiot be so sweet?"

"You don't have to do that, Stupid," she croaks, throat clogged thoroughly with emotion. "I already fell for you."

She feels strong arms encircle her from behind. They're warm and feel like home and she turns and sinks her forehead into his chest.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"I know."

"You were supposed to be a stupid lord."

"I know."

"You're supposed to marry some stupid highborn lady—"

"I know."

"—and have a bunch of stupid babies—"

"I know."

"—and live happily ever after like in all those stupid stories they tell."

"I know," Gendry says, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. "But I've never wanted any of that."

"Arya," he gives her a tight squeeze. "All I want is you."

They stand there together on the dock, wrapped in each other's arms in silence for a good while. It's Arya who chooses to speak first. She does so with a shaky breath. "…Will you come with me?"

This time its Gendry's heart that soars and gets caught in his throat "Always," he manages to rasp, "Anywhere you go."