Do what you feel, not what you say.

The God's had smiled on him.

He wasn't quite sure if it were the old Gods, or the new, but frankly he didn't care. They had pulled him out of the filth that was his former life and placed him in the cold hard, iron chair that was the throne. The Iron King they called him. That part he wasn't so impressed with...the king part of it all. He was just still pleased with a warm meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed.

The entire realm apparently knew about the whore habits his father had, yet they turned their head and pretended. Pretended the bastard children didn't exist, while at the same time pretending the blond haired, green eye children of Cersei were truly Baratheons. Everyone knew, they all knew, but slowly with time forgot that things as such existed.

Until Brienne of Tarth had found him in that inn. He went with her unwillingly to Kings Landing, but once Varys and Littlefinger both confirmed what she believed, it was only a matter of time. It had taken a few years and a lot of hiding to get there, but the timing had aligned and his allies where in order...

Cersei had given up the throne and legitimized him as they had began to threaten Tommen with vats of wild fire and such, but not until she was at knifepoint. Gendry had made sure was "wildfire" was none such, but looked a close double. Enough that Cersei wept as her youngest was gagged and bound...she always had a soft spot for him. Maybe it was the way he squired as they tied him...or maybe it was the way he was a splitting image of his Uncle Jaime.

After, they were locked away, under heavy guard in the chambers she had so nicely given her own brother, Tyrion, after the battle of black water. He had the window filled in but didn't bother to clear out the useless pieces of furniture and unwanted things. It was the same courtesy that she had extended her own dying brother. He felt bad for the boy, keeping him confined to the small, unlivable quarters but he couldn't risk it. Cersei was a snake and just because she was locked away didn't mean she wasn't a danger. He planned to make the boy his ward soon enough, and send Cersei somewhere far, far away. The boy shouldn't be punished for his mothers crimes Gendry had argued. The council didn't like it, but accepted it all the same.

Gendry had fallen into a routine. It had been years now since he was out on his own, with the brothers, and before that with Arya and Hot Pie on the road. Amusement crossed his face when he through of little Arya Stark...all dirty with her hair chopped, but with her attitude as big as the sky. She was never taken, never backdown, and never gave up. It was been more than a year since he had seen her last, not since he toured the now peaceful kingdom. She was at the wall, under the care of her brother, John Snow. It was no place for a girl he had augured with her, as of than her options were there or with Sansa and Lord Balish in the Vail...Gendry smiled as he remembered Arya words the day she made her decision. It was his last day at the wall, and he had found her in the dining hall, cleaning up. She had stopped what she was doing, and looked up at him from across the room. Her hair was longer now, and it was weird to see her so clean. She was taller now, a maid of longer a girl.

"Come with me."

"No," she had answered him.

"Are you sure? Staying here...this is no place for a Lady," he had told her of the wall.

"I'm not a Lady, besides Sansa would push me out the moon door the first chance she got." He chuckled out loud at her and for a moment he reminded her of his father.

"Your much like your father, you know that?" she remarked as she crossed the room away from him to warm herself by the fire. Her footsteps hollow as her boots sounded on the wood of the floor.

Gendry ignored her comment, "Come back to Kings Landing with me, at least until Winterfell is rebuilt."

She had stared into the fire of the dining hall for a long while after that. Her arms crossed her chest, pondering the possibilities. Arya heard him come up behind her but didn't move. She could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck as his arms intertwined around her. Their fingers found each other as the stubble on his chin tickled her.

"Come back with me Arry...please," he whispered against the soft skin of her neck. Arya shivered at the touch of his lips there against the tender skin. She spun in his arms and found his blue eyes staring intensely. She didn't take but a second to bring her hands to the base of his neck and tangle her fingers into the thick black hair she found there. She inhaled his scent deeply as she pulled his mouth to hers. He was more than willing, his arms tightening around her as their tongues met. The longer they kissed the tighter his hands gripped at the fabric of dress, the harder she pulled at his hair. She wanted to crawl inside his chest and never leave, to never feel that loneliness again. His hands were broad and strong as he held her, the hands of a smith. But he was tender with her all the same. Their lips fought for dominance over the other, neither unyielding. Never before had he wanted to drink anyone in as badly as in this moment. She intoxicated him on all levels clouding his judgement and messing with his mind. The feel of her kiss, the warmth of the fire, the soft mews she made as he ravaged her lips...all of it, every bit of her was perfect for him...just the way she was.

She broke the kiss and pulled away, breathing heavily. Not meeting his heavy gaze, she spoke to the floor, "I would rather died a thousands deaths than return to Kings Landing..." she whispered as she finally looked at him with tears in her eyes, "no matter who the king is."

She had torn herself from his arms and walked out of the hall...and he had never seen or heard from her since.


"Repeat your self and a lord with half a brain would do so wisely..."

" Arya Stark, sheath your dagger and let your Uncle go," Jon commanded.

"Did you hear him? Did you hear what he said?" she asked her bother as she slightly pushed the edge of the dagger into Edmure's neck a little more. Her arm was across his chest holding him in place against the wall...she was stronger than he expected.

"Yes I heard him, and I'm sorry to say, his idea isn't half bad."

Arya pushed her uncle to the floor, crossing the room toward Jon.

"You mean you'll have me do it? This is what you want for me? To be married off to some ninety and five year old man, for the sake of strengthening our tie to them?"

"Lord Frey has much to offer, it would be a wise pairing...besides Arry, you know he can't possibly live much longer, than you can marry whomever you wish."

"If you think for one second, I will let that old man into my bed..."

By this time Edmure had picked himself up off the floor and straightened his clothes.

"You will do this, you Lord and Uncle command it!"

"Do I look like I follow the commands of my Lord?" she questioned.

"Arya, listen to me," Jon said softly... "the Targaryen girl is coming, with dragons at that. Without the seven kingdoms united, she will prevail...would you like that? To see Gendry's head on a stake above the red keep?"

Arya drew her sword, the point finding the large vein in Jon's neck. "Do not say such things to me."

"They taught you well in Bravos dear sister." Jon remarked, a smirk on his face.

"It has already been arranged girl, it can not be stopped. Family, duty, honor...remember the words of your ashamed she would be of you now, the will happen, not even the king himself could stop this, remember last time we broke the promise? It cost both your mother and King, shall we have something like that happen again?" Edmure remarked, "You leave at first light."

Arya left at first light alright, with enough coin to feed her all the way to Kings Landing. She hated to betray her family this way, but there was no other option. She wiped the tears angrily from her cheeks as she pushed the house to a gallop away from the wall. She had a long way to go, but she knew no other place...

*lyrics by Mesh*