Author's Notes: I haven't written fanfiction in ages. I used to do it all the time, but I quit about four years ago. Of course this series was the one to bring me back into it, because I can't stand the idea of waiting three more years for the next book. This was supposed to be just a one-shot, but it has turned into an expansive series of drabbles that I was not expecting.
Disclaimer: Look, if I owned these characters, they'd be back together and not separated. GRRM owns all of them.
Tempering Winter
All is Not Lost
He could hardly believe that she was real sometimes.
It was three in the morning; and he watched her sleep, something he has taken to doing since she returned to him one blustering cold morning. She slept so soundly, curled up in a little ball taking as little space as possible, completely unmoving, not making a noise. He'd wake up suddenly, startled by a dream, and bolt upright, believing that she'd gone again, only to turn and see her lying there. She's quieter than the dead, he thought, but no, that wasn't not right, because she was alive – gods be good, she was alive – when he'd spent the last five years thinking she'd died.
The other Brothers hadn't recognized her at first. Lem had pointed her out, a lone woman on a pale mare, and called out to her, saying she was stupid for being on her own. Women shouldn't be on their own during times like these. Things had never been particularly safe, but they certainly weren't now. She'd trotted up to them, the same defiance in her eyes, and said that Lem was the one that shouldn't be on his own. Well, he'd heard the commotion and had come out from behind a tree where he'd been pissing, so that he could tell the woman that Lem wasn't alone, only to be nearly blown off his feet.
"Arya?" he'd croaked, the name clogging his throat.
She had blinked at him, as if unsure whether or not that was her name, but her eyes were grey as the sky that morning. Her hair might have been longer, in a silky braid, and her body might have been much more filled underneath the men's clothing, but she had the look of a wolf all over her. Her grip had tightened on her dirk at her side, but he had been in too much shock to care and Lem had looked like he might shit his britches.
It had been two weeks since then, and she was lying in his bed, as close and far from him as possible. He didn't think it was even possible for her to be here and there were some nights when he woke up that he was sure she was just a dream. But then he would look over and there she was, defying him even in her sleep. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, every night, every morning, just to wash away his insecurities, but he was far too afraid. Despite the fact that they had shared a bed every night since then, they hadn't touched one another since that first morning, when she'd dropped off her horse and thrown herself into his arms. She had been wild, out of control, and he'd felt her whole body vibrating then, but ever since then, she'd been still and quiet.
They didn't talk much, but when they did, the words would rush out of her like a river. If they slept in an inn or someone's home, he'd always offer her the bed. She always shook her head. The first night, there had been enough beds for everyone, including her, in the whore house they'd stayed in. His had been the only bed that hadn't also been occupied by a woman's body and squeals of delight. Arya had appeared silently at his bedside, looking nervous like the girl of six and ten that she was, tittering on the balls of her feet. She held her pillow in her hands. "Can I—?" It was all she had to ask. The smile had jerked onto his face and he pat the mattress. She'd slipped in next to him, but made sure that she was on the very edge, as far from him as possible, with her back turned to him. He hadn't cared and he still didn't. It was enough to just have her in his sight and to feel the heat of her body under the blanket.
And to think, he might not have found her. It had all been by accident. The Brotherhood had been traveling, looking for food and trouble and whatever they could come across, hunting bandits throughout the Riverlands. He had left the place he'd kept with Jeyne, after a knight had come to take his place and sweep Jeyne into his life. It had made him happy, and he'd moved on. He thought that he'd forgotten about Arya, but on those nights when they traveled endlessly and he grew exhausted on his horse, his thoughts would creep back to the wolf girl that had brought him here in the first place.
"Gendry?"
He snapped out of his reverie and turned on his side to look at the girl next to him. "Yeah?"
She was lying on her back, holding her dirk tightly in her hands. She always slept clutching the knife like a child might hold onto a doll. Tom had joked about her accidentally stabbing Gendry with it while they slept, but he knew that she would never do that; she never moved in her sleep. He waited for her to say something, but she was silent. If not for the fact that her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, he would've thought that he had imagined hearing her speak his name.
Finally, after licking her lips, she spoke again: "I hated you for so long." These weren't exactly the words he wanted to hear, but he listened to her anyways. "I don't – not anymore. I just thought you'd abandoned me, like everyone did in the end, but it was really me all along; I was the one that abandoned you."
"You don't have to apologize–"
"I know," she said quickly, still not looking at him. She chewed on her bottom lip and then added, "I wanted to come back, but I didn't think there was anything left here for me. My family was dead; and I'd heard that someone was acting as me. I was as good as dead. But mostly…I didn't think anyone would want me to come back. I thought it might… I thought it might upset things. I'd just lost everything, and I didn't even care that the Boltons had Winterfell."
The memory of what had happened when he'd heard that Arya Stark was marrying Ramsay Bolton washed over him as silence fell between them. He hadn't known who Ramsay Bolton was, but Lem had told him a few stories that had made Gendry sick to his stomach. He had nearly ridden to Winterfell in a fit of insanity, but a few of the Brothers had dragged him back and locked him in a room until he got his wits together. It had been stupid, but he hadn't been able to handle the thought of her marrying a monster like that. A month after though, he'd come to the conclusion that it couldn't be her. She was dead. From all the reports they'd been given, she'd last been seen at the Red Wedding, and very few people had returned alive from there.
"I almost lost it when I heard you were marrying the Bastard," he said quietly. If she was going to marry a bastard, he had thought furiously, then why did it have to be that one? No one had talked about it, but Thoros had put a hand on his shoulders. He'd seen the stormy look that had appeared on Gendry's face after that.
She looked at him and wrinkled her nose. "Stupid, you should have known better. I would have died again before letting them marry me off to him." She fingered the dirk while she spoke, twirling it delicately in her fingers. Looking down at it, she bit her lip again and then carefully laid it on the nightstand. It was the first time she'd parted with it while lying in bed. "I grew up hearing stories about him. I would have diedbefore I let him touch me and take Winterfell from me." And he knew she was telling the truth. The girl in bed next to him was still the girl he had known all those years ago. She would have died a thousand times before letting Bolton take her. A smile twitched onto her face, as if it was uncomfortable being there. "Besides, you and Jon are the only bastards for me."
Unable to stop himself, he reached out and grasped her fingers, just barely. She stiffened at first, and he started to retract, but then she grabbed at his hands. "I thought I lost you. I never forgave myself."
"Why are you so stupid? I was the one that left."
"Why did you come back? You still haven't told me."
She let go of him, and he pulled his hands back. There was a distant look on her face, but her eyes were filled with pain that she couldn't hide, not from him at least. "Rickon…" She swallowed. "When I heard that Rickon was alive and Winterfell was being contested for – I realized that I wasn't alone, that I never had been. I'd just made myself think that there was nothing left for me in Westeros, when I was really just avoiding my responsibilities. And then Sansa revealed herself to be alive and I–" Emotion seemed to clog her throat, but she pushed on resolutely. "I knew it was time to come back and face all my fears. I couldn't avoid who I was, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. I am a Stark of Winterfell, of the North, and winter is always coming."
"The Boltons will be even more furious when you show up. Ramsay still claims Winterfell is his through his marriage to you, despite Rickon's being alive."
"And despite the marriage being completely fake." The grin on her face was filled with more amusement than it should have been. It was a wolf's cruel grin that was cut on her face, ragged and vicious. "He'll be even more furious when I cut his balls off and feed them to the wolves. All of the North will want a piece of him, but I think I deserve the first go since he is my husband."
He let out a cold laugh. "You are the same as ever and different all the same."
She settled a serious look on him suddenly, like she might've been seized with the panic of not knowing who she was. She had a look about her sometimes, when people talked to her, that suggested she didn't know how she was supposed to respond or act. What would the real Arya Stark do? her face seemed to ask, as if unsure. But then she would look at him and he would smile and she would find herself again. "I'm glad it was you who found me."
He snorted. "I think it was the other way around. I had my pants around my ankles while you did all the work."
"As usual." Without warning, she scooted closer to him, pressing her body against his chest. Panic and fear shot through his chest like an arrow, but he didn't move. She was warm, warmer than he'd expected when she acted like winter itself, and it felt pleasant to have her so close. He could smell the smoke of the fire they'd made earlier in her hair. She always stood too close to the fire. "You don't have to go with me, you know. None of you do. I didn't ask you. This is my battle; and I won't ask you to fight it."
"If it's your battle, then it's mine." He tentatively moved his arm so that it was around her, allowing her to be closer to him. "Besides, I remember you promising me that I could smith for your brother, and, well, I'm kind of unemployed these days. Once this battle is won" – because it would be won, no matter what – "if you like, I could stay."
She smacked him gently on the chest. "First off, you'll be smithing for me."
"You?"
"Yes, you're going to be my personal smith. No one else can have you."
"Seems a bit selfish, I think."
"I can't have everyone running around with the finest swords and armor." She looked up at him, her eyes as bright as the moon, and he couldn't help but smile. How they managed to joke about something so serious was beyond him, but nearly everything she was and did was beyond him. The fact that she was here was so beyond him that it scared him sometimes.
"As m'lady commands."
She smacked him much harder this time. "And I'll have none of that." He bit back a response and instead nodded his head. She nuzzled against him, growing silent and still again. Her chest slowly rose and fell into a rhythmic pattern while his heart was still hammering away in his chest. All the nights that they had slept in the same bed, he had not once expected her to be the one to move closer to him. The moment had passed and he was sure that she had fallen asleep again when he heard her whisper, "Don't ever leave me."
He looked down at her. "I won't."
Somehow, she managed to press herself closer to him. "Not ever. Not in any way. I don't want anyone to leave anymore. The pack has to stay together."
"You just don't leave me, okay?"
"You don't have to worry about that anymore."
No, she was wrong. It was all he worried about and it would consume him every day. He held onto her now as she fell asleep in his arms, sure it was a dream that he'd wake up to eventually, but for now, he was happy with this.