Game of Thrones: The Direwolves in the North

Chapter 2: Gendry's Choice

"You ought to keep it a secret, then?" Arya interrupted.

"You could get killed." Gendry insisted.

Arya made a face. She had escaped the Red Keep and King's Landing, had pass off as a boy and a new recruit for the Night's Watch, been a cupbearer to Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal, trained with the Faceless men in Braavos and survive several kill attempts from the waif and other people. She was not afraid of being killed just because of some secret information.

Arya shrugged. "It's the same way when I told you I was Arya Stark of Winterfell." She said. "You would've been killed. But I told you anyway, because I trusted you. Don't you trust me?" She asked.

"I do," Gendry said. "But..." He faltered as he secured the ends of bandage and pulled down her shirt.

She decided not to press him. Whatever that red woman told him about the gold cloaks, he was clearly traumatized and would not want to talk about it. The same way Arya would not want to talk about her father because it just reminded her of the time he was executed and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

After a few moments of silence, Arya spoke up. "You can come with me to Winterfell." She offered. "What's left for you here, anyway?"

Gendry faced her. "What's going to happen to me there?" He asked.

"You're a smith and you can fight." Arya pointed out. "Your skills will be more useful there than it will be here."

It took a moment before Gendry replied. "That's kind offer, Arya." He said. "But—"

"Just please, think about it." She insisted. "But I'll be really glad if you'd come."

Gendry took a canteen of water and poured a few drops of milk of the poppy in it. He handed it to her and Arya's eyes widened.

"Don't worry," He assured. "It will help ease the pain. And help you sleep."

Arya reluctantly took the canteen and took a sip. Gendry gently laid her on the mat and she began drifting into unconsciousness.

. . .

A few minutes after Arya had fallen asleep, Gendry found himself staring at her. Which he found strange, since he'd been travelling with Arya for awhile and he'd never looked at her before that way he'd looked at her now.

She'd grown into a rather pretty young woman, he had to admit. She still had a pale complexion as women from the North do. Her dark hair had grown longer, and now went down to her shoulders. You could never mistake her for a boy now, that's for sure. Gendry thought.

Gendry reached out his hand and brushed part of her hair out of her face and pushed it behind her ear. He stared at her again for a moment before standing up.

Arya's words came ringing back to him. You can come with me to Winterfell. She had said. I'll be really glad if you'd come.

When Hot Pie, their other travel companion, had decided to stay and be the cook in the Inn at the Crossroads. Arya looked like she was about to cry, and it had been him who comforted her about it. It had seemed bearable, that Hot Pie had to stay and they had to go on.

Gendry remembered the look on her face he told her that he had decided to stay with the Brotherhood. Pained. He had abandoned her when she needed him most, and that was the biggest mistake he had ever made.

He felt like he owed Arya that much, and decided to make amends for it. So, he walked over to where Ser Beric Dondarrion, Thoros and the Hound who were sitting near the fire pit.

"Lord Beric," Gendry addressed. "I—"

"Gendry," Beric interrupted. "Were the princess' wounds treated?" He asked. "Is she asleep?"

"Yes, my Lord." Gendry said, rubbing his arm. "I, uh...I wanted a word with you."

Beric straightened. "What is it, boy?" He asked.

"I...I wish to go with the princess to Winterfell." Gendry blurted out.

Thoros and the Hound exchanged looks, like they were expecting it.

"And why is that, boy?" The Hound asked.

Before Gendry could say anything, Thoros interrupted. "Oh, I know." He said, taking a drink from his canteen of ale. "You're starting to have affections for her, aren't you?" He asked, laughing.

"What? No!" Gendry said in defense. "I don't—" He sighed, feeling himself blush at Thoros' comment. "I just want her to return home safe after all the dangers out there, and the pack of wolves roaming." He reminded them.

Beric considered it, he glanced at Thoros, who shrugged.

"I'll be back once she's home safe in Winterfell." Gendry promised.

"And if the King offers you to stay in his service, would you?" Beric asked.

"Only if you'd allow it." Gendry said.

Beric stood and held Gendry by his shoulders. "You should learn to make your own decisions, boy rather wait for an order. If you wish to stay at Winterfell, that's your choice. We can't stop you. You're of noble blood—"

"I'm a bastard." He reminded him.

"A bastard of the great house in the Stormlands." Beric pointed out.

"Wait," The Hound spoke up. "You're saying this boy's a Baratheon?" He asked in astonishment.

Thoros nodded. "Robert's bastard, yes."

"That makes this boy a prince." The Hound said, pointing at Gendry. "And you're ordering him around? He should be wielding a sword rather than forging one."

Beric faced the Hound. "We taught the prince sword fighting. He's already good." He explained. "But he's better with a battle axe, like his father."

"I'm no prince," Gendry corrected. "I'm a bastard."

The Hound snorted and faced Gendry. "Now, you're starting to sound like the princess." He said, gesturing to Arya, who was sleeping soundly farther from them. "Savages who refuse to be called by their titles. You're perfect for each other."

Gendry felt himself flush. But thanks to the light and the heat of the fire, they probably didn't notice.

Bericturned to Gendry. "You should get some sleep, Gendry." Beric said. "You'll be needing your strength for the long journey."