Gendry couldn't take his eyes off her that night at dinner. Most of his and Ser Rolland's men were crowded onto the long benches in the main hall. Many were outside drinking and feasting and whoring. Inside though, it was just drinking and feasting.
Gendry preferred these feasts much better than if a King or Queen were present. There was music and a little dancing, but no entertainment, just loud proclaiming voices and ale.
Arya sat next to Gendry. She wore no dress; just her vest and breeches. The skin in between was bronzed and the muscles were defined. He had ventured so far as to casually place his hand on her knee, which surprisingly, she had allowed.
He would have asked her to dance if there was even a remote possibility she'd say yes. Gendry knew better.
The feast was growing old and conversations running low by the time he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Would you take a walk with me?"
She smiled, "Of course," and took his hand.
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Her Blacksmith, His Princess
FanfictionAfter the fall of the Lannister reign in King's Landing, Westeros was returned to its original state of seven seperate kingdoms. A new sense of hope and pride is in the air. It's been five years since Arya and Gendry have seen each other and three...
