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When he woke, he couldn’t feel her next to him and for a moment he was scared it was all a dream. But he opened his eyes and they met hers, inches away and he breathed a little sigh of relief.
“Arya,” Gendry whispered, reaching out slowly and gently brushing his fingers across her face. She slid a little closer, pressing her forehead against his. He reached around her little waist and pulled her closer, so that he could feel the warmth radiating from her little body against his.
She leaned in, curling towards his chest. And then she did something he did not expect. She started to cry.
She was tougher than anyone he’d ever known. He’d always known that she cared about him, even this knew Arya, that bore mysterious deep scars on her side and could hide her emotions from everyone in the world. But never him. Even the bravado earlier, as if she only wanted sex. He knew her. Even after so many years apart, he knew her.
He held her for a while, letting her decide when she wanted to talk. Eventually, she pulled away and sat up, rubbing red eyes. He sat up too, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing gently. It hurt more to see her cry than any wound he’d ever felt.
She avoided his eyes, looking to the flickering torch. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. Gendry frowned.
“For what?”
“I shouldn’t have cried, you-”
“Seven hells, Arya, just tell me what’s wrong,” Gendry took her hand. “C’mon, my lady,” he whispered. She smiled a little, making the dumb joke worth it.
“All men must die,” she said, meeting his eyes only briefly before looking away again. “But I don’t want you to.”
“Well I don’t want you to die either,” he said. She laughed a little, and Gendry wondered if she could die. He remembered her throwing the knives, gods, was it really earlier this day? It felt like his life was made of before and after, before he knew his father, after, before he saw the undead army, after, but somehow this had been the biggest. Before he knew, really knew, Arya Stark, and after.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “It’s not about whether you will die or not.”
“You’ve lost me,” Gendry said frowning. She met his eyes again and he saw the strength returning.
“I cannot know whether you will survive or not. It is not for me to know. What I do know is that-” She paused looking down. “I love you,” she muttered to the ground. His heart stopped. She met his eyes again and for the first time since they’d reunited, Gendry saw her. She was more naked now than when she’d stripped her clothes off hours earlier.
“And I don’t know what I would do if you died,” she whispered. Gendry had to fight not to grab her and start riding. He wanted to take her south, out of the North, past King’s Landing, past all the lands known to mankind, where they might be safe. But there was no more safe.
“I love you, Arya of House Stark,” he whispered. “and I swear to you I will not die.”
“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she said, shaking her head.
“I will not die,” he repeated, taking her head in his hands and cupping her cheeks. He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’d live a thousand years for you.”
He met her eyes and saw the fear there. But he also saw and inkling of hope.
“I love you,” he said again, a whisper for only her to hear. She closed the gap between them again, and he pulled her into his arms.