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Within the woods, the wind is silent. There is no sound, besides her panting. Her brother stares, his expression just as emotionless as ever. He doesn’t speak, just peers into her like he’s looking at her soul. There’s a burning around her neck, where it tried to choke her. The pain was the only reason she knew that she wasn’t among the dead. She can’t tell if time is actually passing, even if the snow continued to fall, nor did she know when the ringing in her head started. Bran is her only constant, the only thing keeping her standing, until she hears his voice.
“Bran! Theon!” Jon is charging into the clearing, sword raised. Once he spots them, he slows. His eyes flick over Theon’s body, and the shattered pieces of the Night King at her feet. She knows he’s confused, that he doesn’t understand what happened besides the fact that this war is over. His eyes met Bran’s as he asked, “What happened?”
She knew her brother would explain, so she didn’t have to tell Jon everything right then. Arya didn’t care who knew she killed it. She needed to make sure her sister was alive. She needed to see Gendry, know he wasn’t dead. So, she limped away from her brothers, her entire body screaming in pain. “Bring Bran inside.” He didn’t need to be sitting outside all day again.
Sansa came running at her as she made her way out of the Godswood. It was obvious that she had been on her way to see if Bran was okay. He was the only one who stayed put the entire battle. Her sister didn’t crush her with a hug, stopping to look her over and ask after their brothers. “Bran’s okay. Jon looks like hell. Theon is dead.”
Somehow, her relief and heartbreak were simultaneous. It was written all over Sansa’s face, but she looked past Arya, further into the woods and smiled. There were her brothers, slowly making their way back to the castle. Sansa steeled her emotions quickly, moving to take Bran from Jon’s hands. Their elder brother was happy for the help, and Sansa moved faster than all of them. “Everyone back into the castle, I’ll clean you up and we will figure out what’s next.”
Jon laughed, startling both the girls. “What’s next.” He shook his head, “I spent the last few years thinking nothing else but this war. That there was no next, only this.” He looked at Arya with adoration, “I thought I would die when I killed the Night King.” Arya couldn’t help the pride that swelled in her chest. She had saved her family, saved the world. Overwhelmed, she turned away from them all and kept moving.
Once they were in the warmth of the great hall, Arya collapsed on a table. She couldn’t bare to move anymore. Sansa parked Bran on the edge of the room and helped Jon over to sit next to her. “Don’t.” She could feel him staring, and hated it. She wasn’t some godsent hero. She wasn’t the women in the stories, Nymeria or one of the Dark Sisters. She was a girl protecting her family. “Please, Jon. Just. Don’t.” She distracted herself with the loud steps coming her way, with the hammer that fell to the left of her and man who knelt in front of her. She leaned into his body, taking comfort in his arms wrapping around her
“Arya.” His voice was hollow, like he didn’t believe it. She had to smile, as it was her name, for the second time that night. He was so warm, warmer than she thought possible. He completely enveloped her with his arms, holding her loose enough that nothing hurt but keeping a good barrier between her and everyone else in the room. For that, she was grateful.
He planted a kiss on her the crown of her head, then her cheek. He pulled away, and when she whined in protest, he laughed lightly. His thumb circled around the injury on her forehead so she nodded, confirming that she would be okay. His hands traveled further, checking her over for other cuts. Jon huffed to the right of them, and brought her back to the rest of the room. She could feel eyes on them. Probably her sister’s, definitely Jon’s. Looking at her brother she smirked, “I killed the Night King,” Gendry made a noise of panic, but she ignored it, “I can do whatever I like.” So, with that said, she planted her hand on her stupid bull’s face and pulled him in for a kiss.
Sansa’s steps were clear to pinpoint from the other white noise around them, so Arya pulled away. Gendry moved to sit next to her, never too far to stop touching her. Sansa took his place in front of her and cleaned her forehead, “You’ve always been too wild for your own good, but I can’t say I’m not grateful. The dead rose in the crypts.” Arya’s eyes widened and she damned them all for being so stupid. Safest place in Winterfell.
“Are we just going to ignore what just happened?” Jon could barely summon enough anger to fill his voice, but Arya was impressed with the effort. She wasn’t too surprised, no one really wanted to face the possibility of their younger sister being improper, but she wasn’t going to allow it. Once more, she pulled Gendry closer to her. She didn’t want to interrupt Sansa’s help, so there wouldn’t be any more kissing. For now, at least.
Gendry peered over her head at Jon and smiled sheepishly, “I’d rather like that, actually.” Sansa snorted, but Arya could see the wheels turning in her head. Her sister was getting ideas, and Arya couldn’t have that at all. She shook her head lightly, making Sansa’s thoughts stop in their tracks. It wasn’t the last of the conversation, but Arya couldn’t handle it today. Maybe not for another year, honestly.
Arya ignored whatever Jon had to say next, looking over the room. The Hound was standing, which she couldn’t tell if she was happy about or not. Brienne and Jaime were next to the fire, but Tormund was between the two, fussing over Brienne’s injuries. Pod was on the other side of her, talking to Tyrion and drinking. She didn’t see the dragon queen, but couldn’t bring herself to care. The most noticeable absence was Lyanna Mormont.
“Once we’re cleaned up, you wanna go to the forge?” Arya asked under her breathe, raising an eyebrow towards Gendry. He nodded, moving to wrap his arm around her again. She didn’t flinch, even though his hand brushed across the ice burn. “Actually, table that.” She looked at her sister, “I need a warm bath.” She motioned around her neck, “Got a little ice on the skin.”
Sansa nodded and went to draw one in her room. Arya didn’t understand why Sansa was doing this all herself, but this was their family so she didn’t question it. If Sansa wanted to do whatever she could to help, Arya wasn’t going to stop her. No reason to make her sister feel useless. Jon was wiping off his face with a wet rag, didn’t notice when Sansa left, mostly because he kept flinching when anything went over an open wound. Arya rolled her eyes at her stupid brother but refused to help.
She wasn’t startled when Sandor sat down behind her. Gendry met his eyes and nodded once. He didn’t know much, but it was clear that they had been fighting together during the battle. Gruffly, he asked, “You did it, then? Red Bitch didn’t explain much, but she did say goodbye once it was all over.”
“Yeah, I slayed the beast. Nothing to rob, no reason to keep it alive.” Arya slyly remarked, barely turning her head towards him. She was comfortable right where she was. Looking at Sandor wasn’t necessary. In fact, having her eyes open wasn’t necessary. She leaned back into Gendry, resting her weight on him.
“Shame.” He shoved a canteen across the table and motioned for her to drink. Gendry took the ale down without hesitation, holding it for Arya, even though he knew it tasted like ass. Arya grumbled, but accepted it. “He being a King and all that.”
Arya hummed to herself, shoving the ale back and moving to stand. “Come on, Gendry. We’re gonna find you some washcloths too.” Jon grumbled at this, but the Dragon Queen finally came into view so he was distracted. She used that to her advantage and snuck out relatively undetected.
The pair quickly made their way back to Arya’s chambers. Sansa was still there and just raised an eyebrow at Gendry’s presence. Arya shrugged, “Why waste hot water on one tiny girl?” She was still going to take up the entire tub, though.
Sansa took her leave without a word to her, but glared at Gendry. While not a fighter, she could still destroy someone. “Respect her.” Arya snorted, as if Gendry was anything but respectful. Her sister could never understand that, but it was okay. Sansa shut the door behind her with one last glance at Arya.
Gendry didn’t move towards the bath, but instead collapsed in front of the hearth. “Wake me up when we leave for King’s Landing.” Arya almost gagged at the thought as she made her way into the tub. One of his eyes peaked open, watching her. He sat up quickly, when he saw her neck. “Was that?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” She muttered, not wanting to talk about it. This isn’t something to brag about. This was war, people are dead, she has no right to boast about her accomplishments when children are dead. Hundreds of people had to die.
Moving onto his knees, he crawled over and took the rag out of her hands. Arya didn’t protest, just let him help. “You’re allowed to stay home, you know. You don’t have to fight the Mad Queen too.” He knew it was useless to try, but someone had to tell her it was okay to stop.
“Cersei will die.” Arya’s back when straight, her entire body tensing. Green eyes. She looked at Gendry, at his blue eyes, and shuttered. She peered into the fire instead, “I have to kill her.” Much like revenging the Red Wedding, like killing the Night King. It was her destiny. Maybe she would die doing it, but not today.
He nodded, as he had expected that answer. “So when do we leave?” When she whipped around to see him, all she focused on was his smile. “I’m not going anywhere without you, m’lady. Not again.” They stared at each other, in silence, until Arya splashed water at him.
The laughter was infectious, and exactly what she had needed. “You stupid bull.”