The night is dark and yet no longer full of terrors for, inside the damaged walls of Winterfell, the dead no longer move. As for the living, they barely linger from their individual place of battle, each poor soul either too weary or too shocked to do anything but stare. They stare at the mounds of the dead under and around them, at the scattered individuals standing like wide-eyed stone statues that the gods have thankfully chosen to spare. None can hardly believe that the long night has finally ended, not even Gendry who, atop a hill made entirely of flesh and bone, still stands with his battle hammer poised ready to swing. Chest heaving, legs shaking, he continues to suck in lungs full of cold night air… That is, until his over-taxed mind and exhausted leg muscles betray him. Crumbling to rest atop the fallen that had become the stage of his own battlefield, he shakily sighs out a "Gods, we made it."

"Right beast, you were," Tormund approvingly growls with a mighty gloved paw landing solid on a tired Gendry's back. "A bastard you be, but a beast all the same."

"Says the wildling who saved me twice over," an exhausted Gendry replies, hunched over and cradling his mighty hammer gripped tightly in his still shaking hands.

"Saved each other, we did," Tormund admits proudly, before adding what has been on his mind since their enemies all began to magically fall. "But who saved us all I wonder?"

"My sister," Jon rasps, suddenly appearing ragged and torn from a far corner of the courtyard filled with bloodied snow and the recently deceased. His fight with an undead Viserion having ended, he had stumbled out in search of the living. "Arya did this," he continued, pointedly staring at the carnage around them. "Bran told me about it in the Godswood when I went to find him. Theon and the Ironborne didn't make it, but, by the gods, Bran and my sister did."

"Arya did this?" A shocked Gendry questions with disbelieve written all over his sweat and grim covered face. "But, how?"

His brain too exhausted to pick up on the lack of his sister's title, a weary Jon gratefully takes up a seat next to Tormund. With a steadying breath, Jon replies as Tormund puts a calming hand on his shoulder. "Bran apparently had given her a valerian steel dagger. Once stab he said was all it took and she…"

"Delivered the killing blow," Tormund finishes with another pat to Jon's shoulder. Then, after a shake of his head, he heartily boasts, "Ruddy Starks! Hard to kill sons-of-bitches down to the very last. I swear, if I didn't already have the big woman, I'd put my lot in with that sister of yours. Savage little babes her little ones will be. Mark my words."

"You think?" Jon askes, nerves slowly calming in the comforting silence. He even managed a shaky pull of his lips. "Well, thankfully for me, Arya's never been one to want to be anyone's lady."

"Oh, my little crow, women like that never do," Tormund sagely advises, before giving a mighty leer, "what makes the chase all the more grand."

The one who had been silently starting at a patch of destroyed wall, fully lost in his own thoughts, finally spoke up. "A lady can only marry a lord."

"Aye," Jon nods, completely oblivious to Gendry's strange tone. "To be honest, I feel sorry for the poor bastard who tries to tame my little sister."

"Deserves all she gives 'em," Tormund snorts. "You don't go trying to tame a Knight King Slayer like that. Best to let all that fiery passion run free."

Jon gave a chuckle and with it a great part of his tension and anxiety went with it.

However, Gendry's face held no amusement as he gave a single nod and an avid, "I agree."

Cold stone lays beneath her as she sits enshrouded in darkness with the light of the full moon highlighting the bodies piled in mass below her dangling feet. Perched on the walls of her damaged home, the cold bite of winter whips at her chapped lips and wild, blood-matted hair. But her hands are no longer shaking, her heart's rapid cadence is slowly coming to a steady march with each breath she breathes.

I'm alive, she thinks as a familiar feeling embraces her like a warm shroud to keep out the cold. I'm alive. Jon's alive. Sans's alive and so is…

"Gendry."

She had faced the battle of Winterfell knowing that there was a greater chance that she would die instead of live. It was the sole reason she had decided to act upon impulse and lay with the one man she had felt something special toward ever since she was a kid. Admitted, it was a girlish crush back when she was much younger, but the moment she had seen him riding into Winterfell… Absence makes the heart grow fonder or at least that was what her lady mother had once told her to be true. And it was true. That unfamiliar feeling in her heart grew and grew with each visit to the forge to check on the creation of her weapon and it was simply overflowing after the night they had shared. As Gendry slept soundly beside her, Arya had lain there torn and twisted and wholly wake. She had battled with herself to steel her emotions, to harden her resolve to face death yet again. However, although a girl was brave and more than willing to sacrifice herself for humanity's survival, a girl had also found a new reason to live.

But alive she is and with a whole new set of problems. She had told Gendry their night together would be one used as but an experiment. No words of love or longing had been exchanged. In truth, she had left the storage room with nary a word said between them. Of course, Gendry couldn't have said a single word to her; for she he had left while he had slept. Now that they were both alive, where do they go from here? Does he even still want to be with her or had he given into her request without wanting anything more? So many unanswered questions Arya pondered as she took solace in the silence. She had no idea that being alive and well had started the cogs moving in someone's else's head and heart as well.

"We're going to need more men for the battle at Kings Landing," Gendry replies, scrubbing an arm cross his face.

"Not much of us left," Tormund agrees.

"True," Jon absently nods, "But where we'll find these men, I have no idea."

"I do," Gendry replies assuredly, before adding a tad less assertive, "A portion at least."

"Oh?" Jon questions with an air of tired levity. "And tell me, where might that be?"

"Storm's End," Gendry throws back, having mustered his courage and now projecting it all with an even stare. "Ask the queen to legitimatize me," he confidently urges. "Let me use the Baratheon name in the Queen's honor and I'll bring every able-bodied man, woman, and child under her banners even if it kills me."

"Gendry…" Jon trails off with a pained look, before averting his gaze. To be perfectly honest, Jon was not looking forward to telling Daenerys the truth of Gendry's lineage. After all, King Robert had tried to wipe out all in the Targaryen's bloodline. This was not going to be a conversation that would resolve itself easily.

However, Gendry was not to be deterred. "Look, no offense, but I've never wanted to be some ruddy lord and, to be honest, I still don't. But, right now? Right now the queen needs me to be one and I gotta be one if I'm gonna—" Mouth suddenly shut tight, it was Gendry's turn to look away. To voice it was to make it become real and even though it was all he could think about right now, what would he do if Jon told him no?

"Go on," Jon prods, feeling that he has the right to hear all of the lad's reasoning if he was going to bring this up to their queen.

Gendry sighs, thinking sod it all. Jon's going to have to have to tell him his answer at some point or another. Gendry figures it might as well be now. With a blown out breath, he says, "I want to take your sister's hand in marriage."

Jon pulled a dumbfounded face. "Sansa?"

"No, idiot crow! The Night King Slayer!" Tormund bellowed, guessing correctly, before walloping Gendry on hard on the shoulder, "Gods boy, but you are bold!"

"Arya?" Jon asked, wholly confused. Did the two even know each other? Furiously wracking his brains, he couldn't come up with an answer and it bothered him. Greatly. Regardless, he told the truth because that was the kind of man he is. "Even… Even if I said yes, you have to understand that no one can force Arya into doing anything she doesn't want to. Besides, I will not sell her off like some simple property to be sold."

"I know and I'm not saying that you should," Gendry hastily explained upon seeing Jon's muddled features harden. "See, I'm not asking you to force her to do anything she doesn't want to. All I'm asking for is your permission to ask her for her hand."

"And if she says no? Or gods forbid tries to murder you in your sleep for coming up with such a scheme?" a dazed Jon pushes back with a concerned look of his own.

"Then that'll be the end of it," Gendry simply shrugged. "I just want your blessing on my ability to try."

"Why is marrying my sister so important to you?" Jon questioned while looking over the other man very carefully indeed.

"She's the Night King Slayer!" Tormund bellowed, like this was such an obvious thing.

"Is it because she's become the Night King Slayer?" Jon asked, before wholly putting his foot down on the entire scheme. "Because if it's a lady with a measure of infamy you're after, well I'm sorry to say-"

"No!" Gendry adamantly stopped him. "Gods, no. That's not it at all. Look, you have to-You have to understand that Arya and I—" Gendry took a deep breath. During his pause, he looked up to the heavens. Gods, he had to make Jon understand. …Maybe if he knew the full truth of it. Thinking about the night before the battle, he inwardly smiled. Well, maybe not the whole truth, but maybe if he knew enough of their history together, maybe it would be enough to sway Jon to allow him to ask for her hand. It was the only thing for it. Steeling his resolve, he looked back to Jon and bravely pushed on. "Arya and I first met when we were quite young. She, on the run from King's landing after the Hand of the King, lord Eddard Stark was killed, and me, because I was sold off by my master to the blackguard."

"You knew her back then?" Jon questioned, almost at a loss for words.

"Yes," Gendry replied with a chuckle, thinking back to the young Arya he had first met. "And if you don't mind me saying, she was a cocky little shite with more bravado then brains, going round dressing like a boy and trying to convince everyone she was one too."

Jon smiled in spite of himself. "Sounds just like her."

"Right?" Gendry remarked, sharing Jon's fond smile all the same. "Well, Hot Pie and Lommy and the others were too stupid to notice, but I knew the truth. Sort of. I mean, I knew she was a girl, but I didn't know who she was. She only told me the truth after the gold cloaks came looking to kill the last Baratheon bastard. See, she thought they were coming for her, but they ended up coming for me. So, I asked her about it later and she told me. Had no idea she'd turn out to be a lady, much less one from one of the four great houses. But she didn't give me up and I never told a soul about her either."

In such a tumultuous time, Jon knows that either of their true names couldn't have gotten them killed. "She must have trusted you."

"I like to think so," Gendry admits, before shaking his head at what he remembered came next. "Didn't matter, though, 'cause I obviously never made it to the wall and she never made it back home. After the gold cloaks, we were captured and then taken to Harrenhal—

"Harrenhal?" Jon askes alarmed, remembering exactly who had been in charge castle and what king of men they chose to keep. "You mean when the Bolton's had it?"

"What's this Harrenhal?" Tormund broke in.

"It's a castle that used to belong to the lord whose son we fought at the battle of the bastards. Remember? Their banners were of the flayed man."

"The one who used to be married to your other sister?" Tormund acidly quipped.

"Yes," Jon answered with a great distaste of his own. Then, already enthralled with the story, Jon turned back to Gendry, prodding, "Go on. What happened next?"

"Next we were shackled and locked up in pens with other small folk just waiting for our turn to be tortured. They were looking for the Brotherhood Without Banners, you see. Had a method, they did. Strap a bucket to your chest with a rat inside and light it until you talked or the rat clawed clean through your chest and you died."

"By the gods… My sister saw this?"

"Saw it and heard it many times over, even when we tried to finally drift off to sleep. The Mountain always picked the next in line and everyone was always terrified of who that would be."

"My sister was at the mercy of The Mountain?" Jon asked, suddenly sick to his stomach with all kinds of terrible imagery of what could have nearly been.

"We all were," Gendry continued. "Seven Hells, I was the next in line. Had a bucket with rat on me and everything. Would have died too if Tywin Lannister hadn't of come."

"My sister was at Harrenhal with both The Mountain and Tywin Lannister?" asked Jon, incredulously.

Gendry smiled a proud little smile. "Wasn't just there with 'em. Personally appointed the Lannister cupbearer she was."

"You're kidding me." Jon couldn't believe his ears.

"The old lion put those to work who could be useful. Made me a blacksmith, but he took a real shine to Arya in particular. Like most people who meet her actually. But, like most places, our stay wasn't long."

"How so?" Jon asked, needing to know more.

"Remember when I said the gold cloaks came while being carted off by the Black? Well, that same night Arya took pity on a cage full of some scary looking blokes. She let 'em all out when it caught on fire, you see. Well, in doing that, Arya made a dangerous friend. And said friend was forced to come to Harrenhal too. But this stranger… He was skilled enough to take out the night guards without anyone hearing or seeing. In the end, thanks to the favor he repaid Arya, we just walked out on our own free will. But our freedom was short lived. Of course, just our luck, we happened to run into the very one's the Lannisters and Boltons were seeking.

"You found the Brotherhood Without Banners?"

"More like they found us really," Gendry replied with a humorless smirk. "As you know, I wanted to join them, but—

"The red witch came and they sold you to her."

"Exactly," Gendry nodded, before admitting his shame. "She came and she took me. …But not before I said something to your sister that I wish I never had."

"Stuck your foot in your mouth did ye?" Tormund asked, his own curiosity peaked.

"Aye. I did truly. You see, I had made my mind up that I was finished serving other people who would do nothing but use me for their own means. I thought with the brotherhood, it would be different, that I had found something to stand behind. You know, something good. Well, I was wrong, and I was wrong when she told me she could be my family."

"She said that to you? Arya did?" Jon asked, wholly taken aback. Even as a child, Jon knew Arya's affection didn't come lightly. He knew if she had said that to Gendry, he must have become something special to her.

"She did," Gendry replied, before adding with sadness. "Tears and all, she said that to me."

"What gormless thing did you tell her in return, boy?" Tormund angrily prompted, wholly invested in hearing the rest.

"Me being just a simple bastard, I told her the truth." Looking into a dark corner, he recalled the words like it was just yesterday. "I told her you wouldn't be my family. You'd be mi'lady."

"Ouch," Jon supplied, understanding the reason for a young Gendry's harsh words while equally imagining his sister's wounded heart.

Gendry shook the ghosts of memories from his head. "Even if I was a bastard, it was stupid of me to say to her. I know that now. I mean, Beric sold me to the red queen before I could even officially join. Arya was the only one who cared about me. She truly cared and I turned her away. But I got my just deserts, I did. I was carted away, to never see her again, until—"

"Davos recued you and you marched back to Winterfell with me and the queen."

Gendry nodded his thanks. "Thanks to you and Sir Davos, I finally found my to Winterfell at last, to the very place she wanted me to follow her to. My days here, I loved working at the forge, crafting weapons from a material I had never used before. But I also worked and waited. I waited for her. And when she came and found me, I couldn't—I couldn't believe my eyes."

Jon's reserve softened at the way he watched Gendry speak of his sister. There was awe in Gendry's voice and in his eyes.

"Time made her change. She was taller, leaner, cleaner, with longer hair and wearing traveling clothes meant for an actual woman. …She really looks the picture of a highborn now. To be honest, I almost didn't recognize her. But she had opened her mouth and I knew." Gendry's smiling mouth lapsed into toothy grin. "The way she handled The Hound, it couldn't be anyone but her. He accused her of leaving him to die and she just said," A laugh, "She told him I robbed you first. Gods, only Arya would do and say something like that and just stand there staring up at him as if in challenge. Was brilliant, she was. And then she turned to me and said my work had gotten better and I said something stupid to her in return. I blame it on the nerves. She makes me nervous, you know? Never used to, but she does now."

"What did you say?" Tormund asked as Jon continued to watch the other.

"She told me I had gotten better and I told her so have you." Gendry quickly shook off the lingering embarrassment. "Anyway, she had come to ask me to fashion her a weapon and I was more than grateful for the excuse to see her again."

Remembering seeing his sister atop the battlements before the battle had begun, Jon asked, "Was it the spear?"

"Yeah, good bit of work, that," Gendry said proudly. Then, thinking back on his words at the forge, he scrubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, by the seven, I even told her she'd be safer down in the crypts."

"In hindsight no one was," Jon sighed, before adding, "But I bet she didn't like that one bit."

"No," Gendry smiled, his adoration of Arya showing clear all over his face, "She didn't. Even had to prove to me how wrong I was by showing off a bit of her skill. Got all three of those dragon glass daggers stacked together in one place… Gods, she can use bows, daggers, swords, and even a spear now. Like to ask her who taught her all that, I would."

Realization dawned on Jon as he gazed upon the face of the man all but glowing while speaking about his dear little sister. "You love her," Jon said, more than sure of his words.

"I do," Gendry firmly admitted, to Jon, to Tormund, and to himself too.

"Does she love you?" Jon asked, steadily warming up to the young man beside him.

"Don't know really," Gendry gave a wounded laugh. "I mean, I know she still cares, but exactly to what extent I don't really kn-"

"Go find her!" Tormund suddenly barked. "You get up and you go find the Night King Slayer right now or I'll break both of your legs and make you go find her myself!"

"No need to find her," a voice spoke up behind them, too close not to set all three sitting men on high alarm. The voice came from the only person who could ever hide in the shadows and listen to a man's entire story without being seen. "She's already here."

"Arya I-" A shocked Gendry began with his weary body shakily trying to get to its feet. "Did you hear—?"

"Every word," she replied as she simply strolled into their view.

"Night King Slayer, I greet you!" Tormund all but saluted as he rose to his feet as well.

"And I you," Arya nodded back.

"Should I be here for this?" Jon anxiously asked Arya as he looked between his sister and the man who had just admitted to them and her that he was in love with her.

Tormund, however, thought he should stay. "Don't know 'bout you, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Stay," Arya told Jon, "You need to hear this too." And then she was turning back to Gendry and he felt his stomach clench before she had even begun to speak.

"When I was a girl … my father told me that I would marry a high lord and rule his castle. He said that my son's shall be knights and princes and lords." At this, Arya looked deep into Gendry's wide eyes and quietly asked "Do you know what I told him?"

Entirely put on the spot, a befuddled Gendry muttered, "Don't know."

"I told him the truth," Arya spoke clearly to all three men avidly listening. "I told him, no, that's not me. I said that because, even now, I refuse to be some prim and proper lady who gets married off like some chattel only to be stuck in some castle just to knit and pop out baby after baby."

"That's not what I want for you at all," Gendry automatically pleaded his case, "Arya, I would never—"

"I know," She smiled tenderly at him and Gendry felt his heart start to soar. "I know, and that's why," She next turned and address Jon, "I have two requests of my own. "

"I hesitate to ask," Jon responded back truthfully, "But go on. Out with it at least."

"There are many who survived this night and deserved to be knighted. But for Gendry specifically, make Gendry head blacksmith and an official knight of Winterfell."

"Me, a knight of Winterfell?" Gendry asked with wonder.

However, Arya didn't skip a beat. "This is your new home after all is it not?"

"I suppose so," a smiling Gendry agreed, before turning to Jon. "I mean, if you'll continue to have me."

"I'd be honored to keep you on as a friend and newly knighted blacksmith." Jon and Gendry shared brotherly looks of honorable affection before Jon turned back to Arya with another dose of anxiety. "And dare I ask, your other request?"

"Name me Master of Arms."

This time Jon's mouth fell squarely open. After righting himself, he had to make sure he heard correctly. "You want to be Master of Arms at Winterfell?"

"Yes," She replied after nonchalantly fixing the collar of her cloak. "That way I can train other to always protect my sister, my brothers and," A flick of her gaze toward Gendry, "my new husband-to-be."

Gendry found himself at a loss for words while he all but swayed on his feet at the news. However, others were not so silent.

"Drive's a hard bargain, the Night King Slayer does!" Tormund cheered approvingly.

"That she does," Jon agreed and then sighed. "You have my approval but it's still ultimately up to Sansa and the Queen. I'll ask them both, but I can't promise you anything." Patting Tormund's arm, Jon prodded, "Come on, you're coming with me."

"Why?" Tormund asked with a raise of a brow and feet still planted firmly.

"For the moral support," Jon quipped. "Come on. I think it's time we leave these two alone, don't you?"

Tormund just shrugged, deciding to tag along.

Arya watched them go and then turned back to the one still quietly staring at her. However, she was the first one to speak. "You would have done it too, wouldn't you?"

"Done what?" Gendry asked, yet again thrown for a loop.

"Become a stupid lord just so you could ask me to marry you."

Gendry gave a shrug. "If it was the only way, why wouldn't I?"

"But it's not."

"Thanks to you," Gendry nodded in appreciation and then, thinking of the Night King and now this, he playfully grinned. "Seems you always seem to be saving me."

"Look," Arya began, needing to get one final thing off her chest. "Before we officially become betrothed, there are still things about me that you need to know," With a serious air, she added, "Things that may end up changing your mind."

"I don't see how," Gendry told her with a ghost a smile that died when it wasn't returned. "What do you mean?"

Arya began to pace, her steps leaving boot prints in the blood covered snow. "After the red woman took you, I traveled for a time as a hostage of sorts with The Hound."

"Kind of figured" Gendry shrugged. "I mean, I heard him say you'd left him to die and all."

"When I was with the hound I killed 2 men. Rorge and Polliver, two names on my list. You remember my list?"

"How could I not? You said it every night when we traveled together." Shaking his head, Gendry questioned, "But what does your list have to do with me changing my mind? I've always known of your list and I've never cared."

"You might be aware of my list but," She gave him a deadened stare, "you have no idea the lengths I have gone to make sure I have what it takes to finally finished it."

Thinking of all the scars he had witness the night she disrobed for him, his imagination began to run wild as he said, "Tell me."

"I found Jaqen H'ghar."

"Where?"

"In Braavos."

"You sailed across the sea?" Gendry all but sputtered.

"I did, and because of my thirst for vengeance, I found my way into the House of Black and White where I was trained to be one of the faceless men."

Not liking the sound of that at all, Gendry shook his head, confused "What is that? I don't understand. What is a faceless man?"

"It's a nameless person, one who pledges to forget their past and dedicates themselves to taking lives in the name of the Many-Faced God."

"You mean you were—you were a bloody assassin?" Gendry spits out the word like a curse. "Wait, are you still pledged to this Many-Faced God?"

"No," she assures him. "No. Not anymore. I could never let go of who I am nor turn my back on my family."

"So you left?"

"Yes."

"Bet that many-faced god didn't take it too well, did he?"

"I couldn't leave until a life was given for a life. I almost died in the process but, in the end, I gave him the Waif who had been sent to come after me. …And here I am."

"And here you are," Gendry nodded. "Who's still left on that list of yours?"

"IIlyn Pane, The Mountain, and Cersei."

"I remember that list being a lot longer."

"A lot of them have died."

"By your hand?" Gendry asked, a little afraid to know the answer.

Arya shrugged. "Mine as well as others."

Gendry sighed with relief, thinking her news wasn't so bad. "So you've killed people? Granted, probably a lot of people. But so what? We all have. This is war. It doesn't make me think any less of you."

"Not everyone has a collection of faces that they wear to become someone else," Arya finally admits, with each words followed by a slowly drag of her eyes from the ground to his face. And when their gazes meet, she sees the look of horror she was expecting reflected back at her and … it hurts.

"You carve people's faces and wear them like a mask?"

"I do."

"Do you have like, a whole bag of them hidden away or something?"

"I do."

"How does that even work?"

"It's complicated."

"Do you still do that now?"

"When it's needed."

"When was the last time it was needed?" Gendry exclaims, truly shocked to the core.

"When I slit Walder Frey's throat and wore his face to poison the rest of his family."

"Seven Hells woman!" Gendry bellowed, before trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. "That was you? …I mean, everyone kept saying they thought it was Jon or someone under Jon that had done the deed, but it was—you took out an entire house by yourself!"

"I did," she couldn't help but admit with a ghost of a smile …that vanished just as soon as it came. "Have I tainted your view of me?"

"Tainted? No," Gendry shook his head still getting over the surprise. "But made things very clear? Yes."

"How so?" Arya questioned, not catching his meaning at all.

"Well," Gendry began, running a hand back through his short crop of hair, "I don't have to worry about you, do I? Being the Master of Arms and all. I mean, you're the Night King Slayer and a bloody trained assassin to boot. Who else would be more qualified than you?"

"So, you're okay with what I just told you? Okay with the fact that I'm not going to stop?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I mean, you're here now, using these new skills, twisted as they may be, to protect your family. If that isn't honorable, I don't know what is."

"You're part of that family I'm protecting now too."

"Can still hardly believe it."

"Well, you better get used to the idea. This was only one battle. We still have another waiting for us at King's Landing. I'd like to get married before that happens, you know."

"Think we gotta wait for Jon to talk to your sister and the Queen first. Still, I don't see them saying no to the hero of all men."

"Even if they do, I say we just do it in secret."

"Come here you," Gendry gently chided, finally moving to pull her into his arms. "Because of you I'll be a knight and finally have my own family," he whispered into her hair as she gratefully wrapped her warmth around his body.

"You're a part of my pack now," She murmured into his blood crusted chest, before giving him a tender squeeze. "The lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

"You know, I quite like that," Gender next whispered into her ear.

"I thought you would," she whispered back, right before her lips found his.

It was true they had another battle to win, but Arya decided this one… This one, they would do together.