Chapter Text
Mist rolled through the trees, coming off the Red Fork River. It gave them enough cover to near the small camp.
“There are only four.” He whispered in Arya’s ear. She nodded in agreement as her eyes darted to each man. She still amazed him the way she was able to find a man’s weak spot from yards away. The training she went through at Braavos must have helped her develop that skill.
Arya was stonehearted now. He was afraid there was nothing left inside her. No feeling, no love. Losing your whole family will do that, he supposed. She did have her Uncle Brynden, but she said she had no attachment since she had never met him until they came to the Riverlands.
They had been living in the Riverlands being rangers for her uncle for many weeks now. Before that, he and Arya had run into each other at Acorn Hall. It was a rough reunion considering she still hadn’t forgiven him for joining the Brotherhood without Banners. He didn’t tell her he had teamed up with the search party her mother sent for her and her sister. He didn’t know why he never told her. Possibly because he didn’t want her to think she needed saving. Arya hated when people would treat her like a helpless lady. She definitely never acted like one.
When they finally recognized each other, there was a lot of punching and name calling involved but she eventually gave in and showed her relief. It was only brief because she didn’t want to be weak; not only for a moment. She was good at that. Never showing her feelings. Her true feelings. She could act like she was happy when she was around her uncle or share a few laughs with the men at Riverrun but he knew the only feeling she had now was anger. It was typical for Arya to let her anger flash but that’s all there was. He used to be able to make her smile, back when she was only a girl. But now when she smiled, it was spiteful and cruel.
He looked at her, and the smile was there. She spotted the sigil on their coats, two towers; the Freys. She crept forward and seemed to completely forget he was there. He knew why.
She stalked forward until she was right behind the first man. He readied himself to jump into action once she struck. The men suddenly turned and ran towards them before he even knew what was happening. He didn’t see her move, yet the man was on the ground, dead. This occurrence was normal when they went scouting. Her hands were so deadly quick her victims never saw it coming.
He ran forward and smashed into the first man with his body. That was one thing he had on Arya. Her body was useless without her hands or sword. He stabbed the second man through the chest, right between the two blue towers. He saw Arya circling the last man, low in her water dance form. She dodged his swing and brought her sword up between his ribs. He could see the tip of her sword peeking through his left shoulder, right above his heart.
“Aren’t you going to kill him?” she asked, annoyed. He turned and saw the man he bowled over. He was unconscious and possibly fashioning a few broken bones.
“We’ll take him back to be questioned. There shouldn’t be any Freys this close to the fork.” He answered, aware of her hateful glare burning into the man. “C’mon, you can kill him later.” He bent to pick up the limp figure, when he heard a rustle in the bushes.
“Gendry!” Arya yelled and sprinted forward. He looked up to see a small, robed man hobbling towards him. He dropped the soldier and reached for his sword. He saw a flash and the man was lying on the ground.
“Arya, I could’ve taken care of it myself.” He sighed. She stood above the man and turned her head.
“How did we miss him?” She sounded wary and confused. Was there disappointment behind her voice?
“It’s fine. He was just hiding and we didn’t see him.” He continued to pick up the Frey as she turned to face him. He looked at her and her face was screwed up in concentration.
“He could have killed you.” She whispered. He saw red on her shirt, just below her breast and thought it was blood from an earlier foe. But it began to spread across her shirt.
“Arya! You’re bleeding!” He dropped the man once more and walked toward her.
She looked down and grumbled, “It’s only a cut.” She touched the spot and looked at her fingers. She lifted her eyes to his and winced. He saw her knees buckle and then she was lying in the dirt in front of her.
“Arya!” He dashed forward and knelt beside her. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her onto her back. She was trembling and staring with wide eyes at him. They were filled with panic and fear. The cut was very small, like she said and wouldn’t cause a reaction like this. “Arya, what’s wrong?”
“Something isn’t right. The cut-.“ Her words were shortened as she gasped and sunk her fingers into the dirt beside her. Her breath came fast and short. Her back arched as she struggled to breath.
He didn’t know what to do. He looked around trying to think of something. Then his eyes met the unseeing eyes of the dead man she had slain moments ago. There was a glimmer of emerald that caught his attention as he looked back at Arya. It was a dagger, a few inches from the old man’s fingers. A smear of ruby shone brightly against the silver of the blade. He grabbed it and carefully shoved it into his belt.
“Help-.” She choked. He scooped her up into his arms and ran for the horses. She was grabbing at his collar, struggling to keep her head from draping over his arm.
“No, Arya. Stay with me.” He demanded, holding her closer. She can’t die. Not like this.
“Gendry-.”
He looked down at her, not slowing as he made his way to their horses. Her face was twisted in pain and he could barely stand to look at her. Tears were stinging in his eyes.
“I-I-,” she was gasping for air again. He shook his head, willing her to stop talking and save her breath.
“No, I’m going to save you.” But as soon as those words left his mouth, so did her’s. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. He slowed, shaking his head. No, you can’t be dead. You’re Arya. You aren’t supposed to die like this. As he dropped to his knees, he looked at her pale, dirty face. Her hair blew over it like the wind was telling him she was gone. He caught the strands in between his fingers and pulled it back behind her ear, refusing to believe it.
She was his best friend, the only friend he ever had. He never even made friends in Fleabottom. His mother always had him working, and when she died, Tobho kept him busy morning to night. He had no one now. The despair from that thought tightened his chest. He pulled her closer, her cold hands brushing his neck. He shivered and felt the hole in his heart grow ever deeper. The reality of what just happened was sinking in and he felt his throat close.