A Furious Thing

The Red Keep

If that had been the last time she'd seen Gendry, Arya's heart would have been a roiling mixture of regret and relief, but it wasn't. It was as if he'd suddenly decided that all he wanted to do, amidst the preparations and chaos of his impending engagement, was spend time with her. He covered it up- rather shoddily, by inviting Jon along. Jon didn't seem very comfortable with the state of things, and spent most of his time rejecting the requests. So any official meetings or time spent together was thwarted

But Arya was ashamed to admit that she stopped avoiding the prince soon after Jon started to. She walked the halls of the castle, her promise to avoid its inhabitants completely forgotten. Gendry found her in the doorway to the library only a week from the tourney, and his arm landed on her arm without a thought. She tugged him into the darkness of the room and towards a cranny holding ancient looking scrolls.

The kiss she'd avoided last time had only heightened the sensations of this one. Gendry's mouth was soft and hard, both at the same time, lips pressing urgently at her own, and his hands were everywhere. Admittedly, her hands strayed from his shoulders as well, but she was half out of her mind.

"We shouldn't," she said, jerking her head away from his to stare up at him. "I- I promised I wouldn't. And your mother..."

"My mother had made enemies of most of the court. and my Uncle Tywin isn't very happy with her at the moment. My father feels no fear, defying her."

"Gendry- If it isn't your mother, it will be the Tyrells."

"Tell me you want to stop," he ordered, voice taking on a tone Arya had never heard before. "Say it, and I'll leave you alone."

"I..."

After her failure to answer, he didn't hesitate at all, kissing her with all he had. It left her breathless. When his slick tongue brushed against her, she opened without hesitation. A new feeling pooled in her belly, a warmth and a tingling she found frustrating.

They had to have been locked together like that for at least half of an hour, before Gendry finally drew away from her. She pressed her forehead to his and tried to regulate her breathing.

"I- I should be going. My father wanted to speak to me..."

"Wouldn't want to keep the king waiting," she chuckled breathlessly.

He smiled, drawing away to stand straighter and fix his clothing. She did the same, unwrinkling her tunic and re-lacing the ties of her undershirt.

"We shouldn't do this again," she said after a moment, wincing when her words were met with silence.

"Arya..."

"We shouldn't... But I want to," she admitted.

He grinned, tugging the bottom of his doublet and pulling the fabric tight over his chest. "Good."

They met every day, in any small, empty, shadowed place they could find. It was curious to Arya, how much time they could spend unfound, when they were in a crowded castle. But she didn't question it, too busy...too busy spending as much of her time as she could with Gendry. She knew it would have to end eventually. Whether it was because they were discovered or because he needed to do his...duty, to Margaery.

One night, in the godswood, blanket spread underneath them, staring up at the wide, strong branches, Gendry's hands in her hair, Arya told her about her time on Tarth.

"You know what it is to hold a weapon in your hands and know that you can protect yourself," she shrugged, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to know. "Before, when I was younger, I yearned for that, I needed to know that I wouldn't have to depend on men forever."