The bull and his she-wolf

The very first Chapter

He saw her running in front him, others kept getting in his way, slowing him down. They chased her just like he did, but they were yelling, threatening her. All he wanted to do, was to reach her, to fight beside and protect her. He couldn't see her anymore. All men were in his way to her, they were shouting and screaming. He pushed his way through, fighting like a mad king, He was exhausted, he couldn't feel his limbs, but he kept fighting, only acknowledge his rage and fury. He noticed the crowd scatter around him and suddenly he reached to her, only it wasn't her, her head laid on the ground, her beautiful hair all around her splattered with blood, her body tossed around the crowd. He screamed for everything in his lungs, he screamed out his rage and his sorrow, he screamed for the love he never had and never would have neither. The crowd laughed at him and something were tossed in his way, he caught it out of reflex. He met her steel grey eyes, the eyes of the north, only they were blazed with death. He throw it away, screaming and pushing through the laughing and mocking crowd.

Gendry woke up from his nightmare, shaking vigorously all covered in sweat and his breath caught in his throat, and tears streaming down his face. It had been six years and yet he dreamed of her and he couldn't stop the guilt that washed over him, never had he stopped caring for her, never had he stopped blaming himself for choosing the knighthood before her.

He remembered her from his time they were supposed to go to the wall and join the night's watch, though there were complications on the road, they were captured and brought to Harrenhall and survived, and they were captured by the brotherhood without banners and kind of survived, Arya who ran away and Gendry being knighted. It had been six years since Arya ran away, and Gendry soon after became a knight to the king in the north, Rickon Stark. Although Gendry was a knight, he didn't feel like one and Rickon had given him the forge and job as the blacksmith in Winterfell. Just the way Gendry wanted it. He remembered her as a boyish girl, pretending to be a boy to travel to the wall, she was annoying as hell, and he had protected her when Hot Pie and Lommey were bullying her so she stayed close to him because they were afraid of him.

She was the most stubborn girl he'd ever met, she was a pain in the ass and yet he felt a protectiveness over her. He have helped her and even if he didn't like all of her ideas and adventures, he followed, he had overheard some of the brotherhood one night and they said, "It's weird, wherever Arya goes, Gendry follows, but yet she is gone and he is here. You can't have missed the affection between them..." His heart ached, he wanted to go after her, he wanted to search after her and suddenly he understood why King Robert had started a war for his Lyanna. But yet, Gendry was now in his twenties and Arya should be around fifteen now. Maybe something could happen if he ever saw her again. It wasn't possible when she was nine years and he was around the age Arya was in now.

The dawn was nearing and Gendry put on his clothes and went to the forge. He remembered in Harrenhall when Arya used to sit on a barrel and chew on some food she'd found, she used to watch him work quiet as a shadow but suddenly she would comment something, mostly something annoying.

He woke the fire up and fetched the tools he needed to continue with the breastplate he was working on yesterday. He heard the usual sounds when the town started their day, he watched the children laugh and running away from their parents and their commands and demanding calls.

He felt a sting in his heart, maybe he wanted small toddles running around him maybe he wanted a woman to love him, no correctly thinking he wanted Arya to love him and their small toddles running around him. He was so frustrated with his feelings, everything he heard, that she became a whore, and the next rumor said that she was dead, murdered coldblooded at the Red Wedding. She was married to the bastard of Roose Bolton, and then she was dead, but one thing he knew for sure, she would rather be dead than to be married to a man she never wanted, and in his unconsciousness he felt in his heart that she was alive, somewhere in the world.