this is our homecoming (this is a land half forgotten)

4

"We could still run." Arya twists so she can turn to smile up at him. "Go find that ocean."

They are at the front lines, right outside of Kings Landing. The city seems to have gone silent, everyone drawn back into their homes, the only sound the distant scurrying of a family fleeing in the darkness or the slamming of a door.

"We're already at the ocean." They were. They were all camped out at the beaches, crowding around their individual fires. Arya had been lurking at the outskirts of it because that's what she does, and Gendry had gone to find her, because that's what he does. "And it's warm enough."

"Not the real ocean. Somewhere that it's blue." She takes a step closer to him, and the back of their hands brush together. Gendry pretends not to notice, just sets his jaw and stares into the fire. She knows that he would not run. He knows that she wouldn't, either, not while her brother is leading the charge. Gendry isn't entirely sure why they're having this conversation. "Remember?"

"I remember. I remember we said we would go when the war is over."

"The war is over."

"Not this one."

"This isn't our war." She darts in front of him, and Gendry shakes his head, turns to go the other way just to get rid of her, but she is so much faster than him. She is so much, always. "We promised to fight for the living and we did. We won that war." She reaches up, goes on the tips of her toes so she can place her hand on the dip between his neck and his shoulder. "Gendry." Her nails dig into his skin and he hisses, almost inaudible, but not, because she never misses things like that. She still does not move her hand. "We don't owe them anything else."

His throat is dry. It takes him three tries before he can force the words out.

"I promised your brother." He swallows, hard, and she still does not back away. "I swore my sword to him, always."

"And you swore yourself to me. Always." Did he? He doesn't remember. "You don't have to fight, Gendry."

You wouldn't love me if I didn't, he thinks, and feels guilty about it. I have always been a soldier.

"Get some sleep, Arya." He takes her hand and forces it down to her side. He does not know why he's always the one who is sending her away, not when all he wants to do is hold her close. "We march at dawn."

Arya smiles. It's not a happy smile, but it's not an angry one, either. 

The city is a wasteland.

No one comes to meet them. Not when they pass the farmers scattered at the edges of the city, or the markets with their empty stalls, or fleabottom. There's only faces hovering at the edges of windows and the faint screaming of children, but no one moves to stop them, not until they reach the castle gates.

"Gentleman." Even without the hand, Jaimie still cuts an impressive figure. "Has my sister really paid you enough to try and kill two dragons?"

"No." The man on the horse doesn't move, but he does smile. There's a scar cutting through his face, warping his features. "But she paid me quite enough to justify killing you."

Brienne pulls her sword first, and behind her, the unsullied follow, until it is just a screaming of steel. Overhead, the dragons scream, and the man at the front of the Golden Company laughs and laughs, until the moment where he is not laughing anymore, because Arya has put a knife through his eye.