Gendry escorted Arya to a more quiet area near the firepit, which was as hot and humid as she remembered when she was captured the first time. He settled her down carefully on a makeshift sleeping mat.
"You've come a long way, my lady." Gendry said as he helped her settle down with her back leaning against one of the many rock formations of the cave.
Arya punched him on his arm. "Don't call me that." She said.
"Ow!" Gendry yelped, rubbing his arm. "Alright, sorry. Your punches are getting harder though." He said. "But still, it's very unladylike."
Arya made a face and rolled her eyes at him.
Gendry pulled her shirt up and revealed a bandaged wound all soaked up with blood. There was so much blood that even her clothes were wet with it.
"With all these blood," Gendry said. "I can tell that it's a deep one." He faced her. "So, what have you been doing?" He asked.
"It's a long story." Arya said. "And you don't want to know."
Gendry pulled one end of the blood-soaked bandage and started removing it. They were red and sticky.
"Well," He said. "With all these blood, it'll take me awhile. Which means you have plenty of time to explain."
"You'll see how I was wounded, when you finish unwrapping it." Arya said.
Gendry's brows went up. "Alright, then." He unwrapped the blood sticky bandage and revealed three cut wounds on her abdomen area. One was a long slash just above her navel, and two deep stab wounds just beside and below it. "Well, these are nasty cuts."
"They were healing." Arya insisted. "Until your friends captured me. They must've started bleeding again when I struggled trying not to be captured."
Gendry dabbed a cloth on Arya's wound and cleaned it with water. "Well, you don't have to worry about these men mistreating you. You're a Princess."
"Don't call me that." Arya said. "It's worse than being called 'm'lady'. And it doesn't sound right."
"Why not?" He asked. "Your brother's a king—"
"Just shut up about it already!" She interrupted.
Gendry held his hands in surrender. Then he pulled a new bandage and started wrapping it around her waist so it would cover all three of her wounds.
Arya faced him. "So, what are you doing here?" She asked.
Gendry smirked like it was obvious. "Obviously, I'm patching your wounds and—" He started to say.
"I meant what are you doing back here, with them?" Arya rephrased, gesturing to the other men. "After they sold you to that red woman for two bags of gold, you went back here? Why?" She asked.
Gendry was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "Because I didn't know where else to go." He said, still wrapping the bandage. "If I go back to King's Landing, the gold cloaks will be looking for me."
"Why do you think they're looking for you?" Arya asked.
Gendry looked down. "I don't know." He said.
Arya raised an eyebrow. With all those moons training with the Faceless Men in the House of Black and White, she could actually tell if a person is lying or not. And Gendry is definitely lying.
"Come on," Arya pressed. "You don't have to lie about it."
"Arya, it's just—" He started to say.
"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."