Ahhh fuck it! This was what I was talking about yesterday. It’s some good fucking writing, just saying
“I’ll marry you,” Arya breathed as Gendry began to turn. He stopped abruptly, daring to daring his gaze back in her direction.
“What?” He said in disbelief. He surely didn’t ask her to marry him; he would’ve remembered that. So why is she proclaiming such a thing? It’s not as if he opposed, gods no, but he had always assumed she would never agree to such a thing, considering her stance on the action of marriage.
He noticed how she shifted her feet in nervousness and how her cheeks were tinged a deep shade of red. He couldn’t remember Arya Stark ever nervous, so she must be speaking truth.
“I’ll marry you.” She said once more, this time with a little more confidence. “It’s really the only solution, you see. I cannot bear the thought of never seeing Barra again. Every time I think of it, my heart clenches. And…”
She took a long breath, trying to gather their thoughts before confessing something she had only come to realize as she packed her belongings to leave. “If I am being completely honest, I cannot endure another tasteless season. Of course, I have the rest of the year to convince my mother otherwise, but I know that once summer returns, I’ll be dragged back to King’s Landing to mingle with stuffy aristocrats in hopes of finding a suitable match. I cannot do it!”
“But…why me?” Gendry asked before she continued.
Arya looked at him. Really looked at him. And it sent a shiver down Gendry’s spine. He watched as her eyes took him, every last inch. She studied him, as if trying to formulate a worthy enough answer to his question.
“Why not Lord Dayne?” Her eyes cut at the question and they narrowed.
“Ned Dayne,” she scoffed. “Was only after me for my money. He liked my sizable dowery and what my family name had to offer. Besides…that was infatuation. He didn’t—he couldn’t make me feel what I felt when I was with you. I wasn’t sure, not until the…carriage,” she blushed at the memory. “Yet, even then, I was trying to convince myself otherwise. It wasn’t until I knew I had to say goodbye to not only Barra, but to you as well, I knew that I couldn’t. I had averted love for the sole purpose that I would never find it, but knowing you…getting to know you…I was proved wrong.”
Gendry was frozen in place. He was absolutely stoic, save for the look of bewilderment upon his face. He had sorted his feelings for her the night after their encounter in the carriage, but knew that he could never act upon them again. He savored the memory, letting it ingrain itself upon his brain, for he knew that would be the first and the last time he could—would touch her in that manner.
Of course he tickled the thought of proposing; in fact he nearly ran to her aunt’s manor that night to just that, but he knew her feelings about the act. He knew she craved a freedom that not many women were granted, and he knew that the more she inched to an to status of that of a spinster, that she would have that freedom and be even more unobtainable.
“Ge—Gendry?” His eyes snapped to her face. She was flushed, no doubt from her proclamation, and there was a slight look of concern in her grey eyes. She had given her heart to him and he had said nothing. He could only imagine what was running through her head. So he did the most logical thing he could think of.
He crossed the room with lightning speed, making his way to her.
Before Arya had time to think, his lips were upon hers, ravishing them whole. He could taste the strawberries she had eaten and the Earl Grey tea she had with her aunt. He could smell the lavender spray she claimed to not use and the subtle scent of smoke when her aunt had a craving for a drag.
Everything about this woman was intoxicating.
It didn’t take long for Arya to ease into the kiss, letting his lips devour hers in insatiable hunger. She had dreamt of his lips. Ever since they first touched her skin in the carriage. She had craved to feel them again, to have them pepper kisses along her neck. And how she loved his taste. Just the saltiness they exuded made her weak at the knees.
Why had she been so ambivalent about loving this man!? Why did she elude love for as long as she had? Was it just so she could be with him? That he was the one she was meant to be with? Whatever the case may be, she was elated to finally have what her other siblings had. It wasn’t as if she was seeking to be loved, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t have some jealousy towards her siblings’ successes at finding a match.
There were times in Arya’s life where she had wondered if there was something wrong with her. Sure, she was a bit outspoken; more so than any other ladies prancing about within the season, but she didn’t find that to be a reason to be so unapproachable. And perhaps her distaste for the social season was etched upon her face, but it only meant men would have to try harder to convince her otherwise.
How had Gendry succeeded when so many other’s had failed?
“I’ll marry you,” he breathed as he departed her lips for air. “I’ll marry if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Tell me.” She said as she savored the kisses he peppered along her jaw. “Tell me why.”
He pulled back, leaving her craving for his warmth. She tried to bring him back to her, but he grabbed her hands and pushed them to the side. He then took her face between his hands, caressing it ever so gently.
“Because I see you.” He smiled. “I see you.”
“I see that you’re adventurous. I see that you’re smart. I see that you’re a righteous pain in the arse.” He said sarcastically, and Arya couldn’t help but laugh. “But I also see your love. I see how you love. I see your protectiveness and I see how you will do anything to keep the ones you love safe. I know that I cannot constraint you, nor will I and I know that you’ll never be a ‘proper lady,’ whatever that means; but I don’t want that. I want Arya Stark, the woman that I love.”
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