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She’d barely seen Gendry since they’d arrived a few days ago, and she was starting to miss him something dreadful. After years apart, her mother hadn’t wanted to let her out of her sight, terrified she might somehow lose her again even though they were safe at Raventree Hall, with no Lannisters around for hundreds of leagues. And while she understood her mother’s need to keep her close, it annoyed her all the same.
She’d spent the last three years traveling the country with the Brotherhood, surrounded by outlaws and sleeping curled up next to Gendry every night. If she hadn’t been a proper lady when she’d left Winterfell, she sure as hells wasn’t one now. So she didn’t see why she couldn’t spend time with her best friend just because her mother decided she needed to make up for years of lost time.
Catelyn didn’t seem to know what to do with her though. Arya wouldn’t let her stuff her into a velvet gown, insisted on being included in Robb’s strategy meetings, and point blank refused to give up practicing with Needle. It’d only been three days, and already they’d argued a dozen times over Arya’s behavior.
She’d finally managed to slip away to find him at the forge, but Lord Beric had dragged Arya away after only ten minutes, explaining that Lady Stark required her presence, that she had something important to tell her. Reluctantly, she’d left Gendy, promising to see him soon, and followed Beric through the castle to her mother’s rooms.
Catelyn looked up from a roll of parchment as Arya entered, Beric following behind her. “Sit down, Arya,” she said, gesturing to a pair of chairs in front of the fire. She turned to Beric. “Lord Beric, I would like you to stay, please.”
Her mother seemed anxious, glancing at Arya periodically as she sorted through papers on her desk. Watching her mother’s nervous energy, Arya began to feel on edge herself. Something was amiss, she could tell. Despite her mother’s frequent glances, she wasn’t meeting Arya’s eyes, and Catelyn kept exhaling huffily every time she looked away.
Finally, her mother stopped fidgeting with the papers on her desk and moved over to the chair opposite Arya. She looked at her daughter for several long moments, then took a deep breath. “Before your father died, Robb rode south to meet the Lannisters in battle. His best strategic move required crossing at the Twins, but Lord Frey had...conditions. He wanted our houses united. Robb married Roslin, but-” Catelyn stopped abruptly, and Arya suddenly went cold with dread. Her mother looked at her, almost apologetically. “You were betrothed to his youngest son Elmar almost five years ago, and now that you’ve returned, you will be married as soon as it can be arranged.”
Arya stared at her mother, disbelievingly. Betrothed? To Elmar Frey? A memory surfaced, from Harrenhal. Lord Bolton’s spineless squire, terrified of leeches, ordering her around, telling her that he was to marry a princess.
“I can’t marry him,” she said, aghast at the thought.
Her mother sighed. “Arya, you don’t have a choice. You will marry him.”
“I can’t marry him because I’m already married,” she blurted out without thinking.
Catelyn’s face went white. “What?”
Behind her, Lord Beric inhaled sharply and moved quickly beside her. “Lady Stark, I can assure you,” he began, but her mother cut him off.
“What do you mean, you’re already married?” her voice was low and sounded dangerously calm.
Thinking quickly and knowing she’d have to beg him for his forgiveness later, she looked defiantly at her mother. “I married Gendry.”
Her mother looked baffled. “Gendry?” She turned to Beric.
“Ser Gendry, my lady.” Beric told her. “Our blacksmith.”
“A blacksmith?! Arya, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.” She was in for it now, and she wasn’t backing down. She turned to Beric. “Four moons ago, when we were at Acorn Hall. We found a weirwood in the forest, and he cloaked me. We didn’t tell anyone because we knew you wouldn’t approve.”
Catelyn looked at Beric. “So there was no septon, and Thoros didn’t-”
“No! Thoros would have never condoned this.”
Her mother looked almost hopeful, and Arya knew what she was thinking. “But no septon means-”
Arya cut her off. “We’ve been fucking every chance we got for four moons, mother,” she said bluntly, going unexpectedly hot at the thought of actually fucking Gendry. “Do you really think you can get this annulled?” Gendry was going to kill her, but she was sure he’d understand. Eventually.
Beside her, Lord Beric sputtered. “Lady Arya, you couldn’t have-”
“How many times did you send us off into the woods to collect firewood, Lord Beric?” she asked, determined to do this thoroughly, and she saw his face blanch, realizing just how much time she and Gendry had spent alone. “How often did we tell you we were going to spar? When either of us sat up to keep watch, do you think the other one slept as well?” She turned to her mother and shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “I’d be surprised if I wasn’t already with child, the way we’ve been going at each other. Not a lot of chances for moon tea when you’re traveling with outlaws.”
“Arya Stark!” Her mother was on her feet now, her face ashen. “I...need to speak with your brother. Lord Beric, if you could escort my daughter to her chambers and make sure she stays there-”
“No.” She needed to get to Gendry. Now. “I’m going to see my husband. I’ve not had two words with him since we arrived, and I’ve missed him.” That much was true at least. “I’m six and ten, mother. I’m a married woman, and I’ll not be ordered around like an unruly child.” And she stormed from the room, leaving her mother and Lord Beric staring after her with stunned expressions.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Her false sense of confidence was quickly fading, and her footsteps slowed. What had she been thinking? I married Gendry? Oh, he was going to kill her, claiming him as her husband. Her bastard blacksmith husband. Married to the king in the north’s baby sister. Oh, shit. What had she done?
Arya took off running, thinking quickly. Robb could have him gelded, or worse, killed. The only people who knew about their so called marriage were Lord Beric and her mother, and they both had every reason to keep quiet. But if everyone knew, if it was common knowledge, they wouldn’t hurt him, they couldn’t hurt him. The thought of anything happening to him made her chest tight with worry.
And really, would being married to Gendry be so bad? He was her best friend after all. They spent practically all their time together already, riding together, sparring together, sleeping...oh. Yeah. That. She’d felt a rush of heat when she told her mother they’d already lain together, and now the thought of actually being with him brought a flush to her face she knew had nothing to do with the fact that she was tearing through the castle as fast as she could.
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t lain next to him at night, longing to know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her. Hadn’t watched him working in the forge without a shirt, itching to drag her fingers over the planes of his well defined chest and stomach. Hadn’t woken up to feel him pressed hard against her back, wondering what it would feel like inside her, if it would quell the ache between her legs.
Arya thought Gendry must have thought about it too, the way he looked at her sometimes, eyes dark and face flushed. It was possible he wanted her, wanted to trail kisses down her neck, wanted to run his hands up her sides, wanted to press her against the wall and fuck her senseless, wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Well, shit. She wanted him. Like nothing else, she wanted him. Wanted to push her best friend to the ground and ride him like some kind of glorious stallion. Shit.
She stopped short, breathing hard, but whether it was more from the exertion of running or the thought of straddling Gendry on the forge floor, she couldn’t actually say. She stood still for a moment, trying to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. How had she not realized? And now, she’d just told her mother and Lord Beric that they were married, had been for moons. Shit. She had to find him before either of them did.
Arya took off again, moving through the crowded courtyard towards the forge. She could see him speaking to the castle’s blacksmith, his back to her. She drew up behind him and took a deep breath, praying she wasn’t wrong and desperately hoping he could forgive her if she was. Reaching up, she tapped him on the shoulder.
“Arya!” He looked pleased to see her, that was something. “I mean, m’lady-” His words were cut off as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He stiffened in shock and started to pull away, but she tightened her hold on him and kissed him harder. His arms came up around her, and his mouth moved against hers, kissing her back, and she could have cried with relief.
She pulled back, and looked at him. His eyes were dazed, but his lips were pursed like they were still kissing her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”
“What-”
“Husband,” she said loudly so everyone in the vicinity could hear. Gendry froze. “Husband, I need to speak with you. Privately.” She glanced around to see at least thirty people, guards, servants, smallfolk, and members of the Brotherhood all staring at them in shock. Good.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the small room off the back of the forge where he’d been sleeping, shutting the door behind them.
“Husband?” She’d never heard him sound so confused.
Arya turned to face him. Biting her lip, she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do,” she babbled. “They betrothed me to Elmar Frey, five years ago, and I can’t marry him, so I told my mother and Lord Beric we got married without telling anyone. Four moons ago at Acorn Hall. And I told them we’ve been fucking nonstop ever since so they can’t annul it. And I’m really sorry, Gendry. I didn’t think about what I was saying.”
His face had gone white, then red. He stared at her, brows furrowed. “Elmar Frey? That little shit from Harrenhal?”
The door behind them burst open, and Robb entered, looking frantic. His eyes fell on Gendry, and Arya could see his fists clench as he looked between them. She moved quickly in front of Gendry, pushing him back. “Robb! I see mother has informed you of my marriage. I’d like you to meet my husband. Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill.” She glared at her brother, daring him to touch Gendry in front of her.
“Arya,” Robb said in a deceptively calm tone. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my husband.”
“You don’t have a husband, Arya. You can’t have a husband. You are betrothed.”
“Well, no one told me that, did they?” She scowled at him. “How was I supposed to know?”
“But, Arya,” Robb said pleadingly, “Lord Frey will expect-”
“You go tell old Lord Frey that his son’s betrothed is married. That she’s been married for ages. That she had no knowledge of the betrothal and therefore cannot be blamed for breaking it. And if that doesn’t work, you tell him that if he wants his son to have a virgin bride, then he is out of luck because that ship has sailed.” Behind her, Gendry shifted, and Robb’s eyes shot to him, looking murderous.
“Robb!” She took a step closer to her brother. “If you touch a single hair on his head, I will never forgive you.”
He looked down at her and seemed to see something in her face because his shoulders sagged and his expression became defeated. He stared at her for a full minute before sighing heavily. “Fine. Fine. But I need to speak with him. Alone.” She opened her mouth to protest. “I swear I won’t hurt him,” he said grudgingly.
Arya looked at him uncertainly. “Promise me, Robb. Swear it by the gods. You won’t touch him. Or send him away.”
He sighed. “I swear it by the old gods that I will not touch him or send him away. He’ll be fine, Arya. I promise. Go to your room.”
She turned to look at Gendry who was staring terrified at her brother, his face ashen. She grabbed his hand, and he started as if he’d just remembered she was there. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed at him. “I’ll see you soon, husband,” she said and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.
Reluctantly, she left, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.
***
She was about to go mad. Two hours. Two hours she’d been pacing in her room. Her mind inventing more and more outrageous punishments that Robb was inflicting on Gendry. She’d just convinced herself that her best friend was already on his way to Lys as a slave when the door opened and he entered, carrying a bundle of clothing and looking completely bewildered.
“Gendry!” She pulled him inside and shut and bolted the door behind him. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry! Robb didn’t hurt you, did he? I’ll kill him if he hurt you.”
He just looked down at her, and shook his head. Arya got the impression that he wasn’t truly seeing her, or even that he quite realized where he was. She led him over to a chair and forced him to sit before handing him a cup of wine from a nearby table. He stared at it as if he’d never used a cup before.
“Gendry!” His eyes slowly moved from the cup up to her face.
“Huh?”
“Are you all right?” He was starting to worry her.
“What?” He seemed to come back to himself and shook his head a bit. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Robb didn’t hurt you at all, did he?”
He shook his head.
“What happened?”
Gendry ran his hand over his face. “Asked me about myself. Asked me about us. Threatened to feed me to Grey Wind if I ever hurt you. He’s upset and disappointed and worried, but…” He trailed off.
“But what?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “He said that since you knew nothing about the betrothal, then Lord Frey would have to accept…” He swallowed. “Our marriage.” He looked miserable, and Arya suddenly felt terribly guilty. She’d put him in an absolutely impossible position. Of course he didn’t want to be married to her. Why would he?
She sighed. She couldn’t do that to him. She’d tell Robb and her mother the truth, that she’d lied. She’d have to marry stupid, spineless Elmar Frey, but she wasn’t going to shackle Gendry to her for life when he clearly didn’t want her.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, Gendry. I’m sorry. I’ll go straight to Robb and tell him I lied.” She turned to go, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. Startled, she looked down at him, surprised to see anger on his face.
“Why would you do that?” he asked harshly. “You’ll have to marry that Frey idiot if you do.”
A stab of irritation shot through her, and she yanked her arm out of his hand. “I know that, stupid, but better that than a fake marriage to somebody who doesn’t want it.” She stomped to the door and had just stretched out her hand to open it when he spoke.
“Who said I didn’t want it?” he asked hotly.
She whirled around, advancing on him angrily. “You looked miserable when you said ‘our marriage’ like someone just destroyed your favorite hammer. Clearly, you don’t want it, and I won’t hold you to something you had no choice in, so don’t worry. You won’t have to be pretend married to me anymore.
He stood up, forcing her backwards as he crowded into her space. “Well, maybe I want to be pretend married to you,” he said furiously. “I don’t want you to have to marry Elmar Frey .” He sounded so disgusted by the idea that she could have laughed. He was glaring at her, and her anger suddenly melted away.
“You want to be pretend married to me?” she asked him quietly.
His face fell, and he took a step back. “I don’t- You-” He sighed. “Look, Arya, if that’s what it takes to keep you from having to marry him, then of course I’ll be pretend married to you.”
She stared at him, her heart somewhere near her stomach. He didn’t want her. He was only agreeing so she wouldn’t have to marry Elmar Frey.
“You’d do that for me?” Her voice sounded small and entirely too vulnerable for her liking.
He jerked his head back slightly, as if her question had insulted him. “I’d do anything for you, Arya. You know that. Besides, surely being pretend married to you has some benefits.” He looked around the room, taking in the furnishings. “Apparently, these are my rooms now too. I’ve never slept in a featherbed before.” He flushed and then started stammering. “Not that we’ll share the bed or anything. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be stupid, Gendry,” she said. “You’ve slept beside me almost every night for years. I’m not making you sleep on the floor now.”
“It’s different now, Arya,” he argued. “It’s...not proper.”
“Why? Because they think we’re married? They already think we’re fucking, what could possibly be not proper about it?”
He inhaled sharply and his eyes darkened at her words. She didn’t think she imagined the way his gaze flickered down to her mouth. Did he want her after all? She took a step closer to him, watching him carefully as she reached out to touch his arm. His breath stuttered, and she took another step, keeping her eyes on him.
“Would being married to me be that bad?” she whispered. “Falling asleep together. Waking up together. Keeping me warm at night, wrapped up in your arms.” She definitely wasn’t imagining the way his breathing had sped up or the look in his eyes. She took another step, only a foot away from him now, and leaned up on her tiptoes to breathe against his ear. “Fucking me.”
The groan he let out only encouraged her, and she continued. “In that featherbed. On the floor.” Feeling emboldened, she lightly bit his ear, and the sound he made shot straight through her. “Against the door. In the forge.” His breathing was ragged now, and his hands had moved to grasp her arms, holding her in place. “Anywhere you want me, Gendry. I’m yours.”
Whatever had been keeping him still vanished, and his mouth was on hers, his hands roaming over her body, pulling at her clothes in desperation. Heart pounding, Arya pulled him across the room toward her bed, their bed, kissing and shedding clothes as they went. They fell together, naked, and when he sank into her, she thought she’d never felt so complete.
***
“You have to marry me now,” she said, looking up at him from where she was resting on his chest.
He smiled softly down at her. “Oh, do I?”
She nodded. “Wouldn’t be proper otherwise.”
He snorted. “M’lady, nothing about this was proper.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve never been a proper lady. You know that.”
His eyes softened. “Aye, I do know that.” He took a deep breath. “I think that’s why I love you so much.”
She stilled. “You love me?”
He nodded. “Have for ages. I never thought you saw me that way.”
“I didn’t realize I did until today,” she confessed. “After I told my mother we’d been fucking for the past four moons, I realized how much I wanted you.” She pulled herself up to kiss him deeply, and he responded instantly wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.
“I think I must have loved you for ages too,” she said. “I just never understood what it was until now.”
“So you love me?” he asked.
She nodded and sat up, straddling him. “Yes, you stupid, bull-headed man. I love you. And you’re going to marry me as soon I’m done fucking you again.”
He smirked at her, rolling his hips up into her. “As m’lady commands.”
***
The ancient weirwood at Raventree Hall had never seen a wedding quite like theirs. The bride and groom, alone in the dead of night with no witnesses, giggling madly as they said their vows and then immediately consummating the marriage right there on the floor of the godswood, but then there’d never been a love quite like theirs either.