Winter's Thaw

Almost Home

She had meant to sleep in, but couldn't quite manage. Well, she hadn't been sleeping well for some time. It started the first night on the road. The last night at Storm's End, she hadn't slept at all. She spent the whole night staying busy, packing, and setting things right upon their departure. 

She hadn't had any dreams in a long while; she never seemed to have them with Gendry lying beside her. But alone in her spacious tent, a day's ride into their journey to The Wall, she dreamt once more.

In the dream, she was still at Storm's End. She felt a drive to find Gendry, she wandered all around the grounds- to the beach, the kitchens, the hall, and even the library. But eventually she found him, in his bed, but he wasn't alone. 

In the dream, he was with Kahlen, intimate, naked limbs wrapped tight around each other.

Arya couldn't move or speak, she could only stand there and watch, hear the breathy moans they were making, and smell the salty scent of sweat in the air. Kahlen was clearly pregnant, a round stomach and larger breasts.

She heard Gendry whisper- 'It's so easy with you, this is all I ever wanted.' His voice, so sincere, so full of love; blue blue eyes clear and shining.

It wakes her with a gasp. Her heart pounding erratically, she knows she will be unable to sleep further. She exits her tent and follows her feet.

Against her own will, her body seeks him out, sleeping amongst the men, peaceful beneath the moon. Without disturbing him she crawls in beside him, instantly relaxing. There are no more dreams that night, and she's able to rise before the daybreak without anyone seeing her.

The next day of travel she thinks only of her dream, unable to make small talk with Merilee. It wasn't difficult to figure out the significance of the dream. Pride and a rush to get home had forced her to speak too quickly, to speak for both of them. Her actions had created a rift between her and Gendry. And he had every right to be angry. As always, she was trying to play the long game, to prepare for the worst possible outcome. But somehow managed to create that herself through her own actions. But she already regretted her decision, and it was far too late, it couldn't be undone. She would let him be, give him the chance to cool off, to get over it. And she would take her punishment, whatever nightmare was in store for her that night, she would bear alone. That was her plan anyway.

But the next night, she has another nightmare.

Layers and layers of snow, coloring everything the eye could see. At the icy gates of Winterfell, there is barking, and a low warning growl. Trudging through knee-deep snow she continues on, dressed in simple leathers, ill-equipped for the cold. The growling turns more menacing, keeping her from entering, and at once a direwolf materializes out of the snow. For a second she imagines its Ghost, the way it blends in so easily with the snow; and she lets herself hope that Jon is nearby. But the closer she gets, she sees the dark grey fur of Nymeria, her long-lost friend, the piece of her she'd chased off so long ago.

With delight, she picks up her pace, but Nymeria's barks and yips grow louder and more intent. It's as if she doesn't remember her old master, her sister, her pack mate. As if Arya is a stranger. Arya puts her palms out to show she means no harm, to give the direwolf the chance to recognize her as she slows her own gait. But the wolf still doesn't know her, a blow to her heart, a pain she hadn't imagined. The wolf's eyes are wrong, filmy and unreal, nothing like she remembered. The look of hate, of rage in Nymeria's eyes makes Arya stop in her tracks, heart breaking, mourning what was lost and could never again be found.

In an instant, she's knocked to the ground, the wolf's full weight shoving her down into the snow, so hard it knocks the breath out of her lungs; she's frozen, still. With a growl the wolf rips into her throat, a quick rip and her entire neck is missing. There's no real pain, only shock, and an inability to move. The wolf leisurely feasts on its meal, licking its bloody lips, savoring the flavor, looking Arya dead in the eyes as she slowly chews the raw flesh.