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Title: Relieving Aggression
Author: girlofgold
Fandom: ASOIAF/GOT
Words: 560
Rating: T
Pairing: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Summary: Years later, after the Starks have retaken Winterfell, Arya spends nights down at the forge. For her, things are perfect as they are, but Gendry is having second thoughts.
A/N: For gameofships. Can also be found HERE.

Arya is quick to notice the look in Gendry’s eyes as they lie on his bed in Winterfell’s forge. She sighs as she stares at him, allowing him to see the irritation in hers.

“Something the matter, my lady?” he asks, his voice full of biting sarcasm.

“You’re doing it again,” Arya accuses. “You’re feeling guilty about us when there is absolutely no cause.”

The guilt turns to anger and he quickly pushes himself off the bed. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Arya, and we both know it. It’s wrong, and it is just going to hurt you in the future.”

Arya wasn’t going to tell him that Sansa knew and has been careful to give her moon tea every morning she returns from the forge. Instead, Arya returns his anger with some of her own. “The only thing that could possibly hurt me in the future is if you left me…again. I know exactly what I’m doing, Gendry—I’m allowing myself to be happy for the first time in so long, and I would appreciate it if you would allow me a choice in the matter!”

Now it’s his turn to sigh. “You’re right—I know you’re right—it’s just—I—this thing we’re doing…it isn’t how things are supposed to be. If I had my way, I’d be able to court you, give you a name, security.”

He’s pacing and Arya knows this has been a long time coming. Gendry’s always been one to worry about the difference between highborns and lowborns. He doesn’t seem to understand that she simply doesn’t care.

Arya stands up as well then, careful to wrap one of the furs around herself to keep warm, and corners Gendry between herself and the bed. “Despite your persistent nickname, I am no lady. I do not want to be courted, I have my own name, and here, in Winterfell’s forge, I have never felt safer. I don’t want anything different.” Her voice up to now has been gentle and calm, but then a devious smirk graces her features. “But right now…I want nothing more than for you to make me forget this…disagreement of ours,” she says before suddenly pushing him onto the bed.

The sound that emanates from his mouth makes Arya glad the forge is not close to where her siblings lay sleeping. Her eyes widen in surprise when Gendry wrestles control from her, flipping them so she lies on her back against the fur that had once been wrapped around her body. Naked as he was when he was standing (she hadn’t been paying much attention while trying to talk sense into him), he enters her with quickly and easily, and Arya moans.

This is one thing she doesn’t think she should feel guilty about, because with him inside of her, she feels content. (Despite the tales Sansa spins, he does not complete her, she is a whole person already—damaged, but whole.)  He does allow her to relax and relieve the aggression and anxiety being Arya Stark again causes.

Her hands reach up to caress his neck, but she looses focus almost immediately, for he quickens his pace in an effort to relieve his own aggression, and she responds in kind, dragging her fingernails against his skin. She’s a wolf, after all, and her claws are always out.

Luckily, he doesn’t mind.
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