Chapter 1

Arya's POV

Arya cursed to herself as she walked across camp. Stupid, simpering Sansa. She thought bitterly to herself. The delicate flower of the North. Always surrounded by stupid, simpering lords and ladies. Arya kicked up dirt as she sat herself beside the fire. Lem and Anguy were cooking sausages and she carefully stole them to eat. Neither of the men cared, they were used to Arya's pilfering. She'd always taken what she wanted. Not like Sansa, she always asked. Arya looked up to see Sansa laughing at something Gendry said to her. He was sitting, awkwardly Arya thought, to Sansa's right. He looked up and scanned the camp once or twice. Arya hoped he was looking for her but doubted it.

She'd gone through all the trouble of returning to Westeros, leaving the House of Black and White to save her stupid sister and this was the thanks she got? Her great idiot of a sister trying to steal her best friend? Her only friend.

Sansa wouldn't even have looked twice at the blacksmith, Arya's blacksmith, if Arya hadn't enlisted the help of the Brotherhood to free her. She'd heard Sansa was being held by the old Master-of-Coin in the Vale. She'd heard and so she went to save her. Robb and Jon were no longer around to do it and Arya felt like she was the only one left. Now Arya furiously wished she hadn't.

As she watched, Gendry excused himself, and Arya saw her opportunity. She swooped in to the seat he vacated easily and Sansa let out a startled yelp when Arya spoke.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Arya, you scared me. Where did you come from?"

"I was by the fire. Mayhaps you would have seen me if you hadn't been so busy fawning over Gendry." Arya did an impression then, giggling and throwing her head back. She waved her face dramatically and sighed. "Every time he helps you across a river or over a puddle."

"I wasn't fawning, Arya. And what's so wrong with that?"

"He's MY friend."

"So? Why? Are you only allowed to be his friend? Why can't I be his friend?"

"You don't want to be friends. You blush so hard every time he says any stupid thing I'm surprised blood doesn't shoot out your eyes."

"Arya, that's disgusting."

"You're disgusting."

"To be true, I hadn't thought of Gendry in that way until just last night. While you playfully kicked dirt at each other, he looked so…good. He was carefree and sweet and handsome and noble, the way a knight aught to look."

"Please stop."

"A woman could do worse than a Baratheon, even if he is just a legitimized bastard."

"Sansa, stop."

"It doesn't matter though."

"Stop it."

"He only ever talks about you." Sansa slumped a bit dejectedly. "I don't know why he only ever talks about you. He must like you a great deal."

"We're friends."

"Right, so why shouldn't he and I more than friends? Why can't you be happy for me? If I married him, Arya, I'd be a Baratheon and you would be his good-sister."

"I don't want to be his good-sister!" Arya's irritated cry was quiet but Sansa reeled back all the same.

"Arya," Sansa began but she was cut off.

"Arya," he said, standing over them. The girls looked up to see Gendry Baratheon looming over them like a mountain. He was dirty, Arya thought, Sansa probably thought that was novel after all the fat and pampered little Lords she's been used to.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Privately, my Lady." His voice was firm and commanding but Arya refused to bend. She was mad at him, furious.

"Don't call me that!" She said angrily, standing up and crowding his space. Gendry, to his credit, did not back down.

"He is only being polite Arya, and you should be calling him my Lord. You are too familiar." Arya turned to glare at her sister but Gendry's eyes never wavered from her face.

"We should be familiar," he said quietly, "after all this time."

"Whatever you have to say you can say it to me now."

"Come with me, we need to talk."

"Make me, my Lord."

He said nothing in response, just grabbed the top of her arm and jerked her forward. Arya grunted with the force and pulled back but his grip was too strong.

"Ser Gendry!" Sansa was on her feet and a few people had looked over to their little darkened corner of the camp.

"Did you not hear, my Lady, the Lady Arya tell me to 'make her' come with me since she would not come herself?" Arya marveled at his ingenuity, she hadn't expected it. Sansa was silent but Arya saw her sister nod out of the corner of her eye.

"Fine, I'll come with you."

"You should not be alone together." Sansa's voice was plaintive and Arya was enraged further. How dare she.

"Come on, don't listen to her." Arya tugged at his sleeve this time and turning they went, leaving her sister alone on her log. Arya wasn't worried. One of the Brotherhood who was from a noble house, maybe Ned Dayne, would be along soon to console her.

They walked a little ways before Gendry veered off to the left and they headed for the edge of the forest. The land here was riff with hill tribes and many of them had been enlisted in the wars. They had clansmen posted in the forest and in the camp but were warned not to stray too far for not all the clans fought for the same side.

When they stopped Arya could still here the bustle of camp and could see the light from the fires through the trees but they were far enough out that Arya was sure they were completely alone. He just stared at her then, and Arya shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Well? What is it?"

"I'm not in love with Lady Sansa."

"Oh." She didn't know what to think. He'd clearly heard their argument and knew he was the topic. "Good."

"Why is that good?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why is that good? Why don't you want me to marry your sister? She says she likes me, doesn't she?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because your mine!" She stopped, her breathing heavy and her face red with a jealousy she could hardly recognize. "You were my friend first."

"Well you're not acting very friendly." Arya shoved him and spun on her heel to stop off but he caught her arm and wrenched her back.

"Stop leaving." He growled into her hair. Her back was to him and she could feel the hard lines of his body unyielding against her. Arya shivered. She was fast and sly but she was small. Gendry was large, larger than when she'd left, and strong. His arms were thick cords of muscle and his chest had broadened out to accommodate his growth. He is a man grown, she thought despairingly. No wonder he spent time with Sansa.

"Look, if you want to marry Sansa and have fat little babies, fine! What should I care if you do?"

"I don't. I want you to stop leaving me." His grip softened and he turned her around to face him. She hadn't realized she'd been crying but when his hand lifted to her face and wiped across her cheek the wetness he found there glittered in the moonlight.

"I'm not going anywhere."