**Chapter 6: Slow Burn**

The days passed, and Arya slowly began to recover from her ordeal. Gendry continued to care for her, feeding her, bathing her, and generally being a gentle presence in her life. He had set up a small bed for her in his chambers, and she slept fitfully, haunted by nightmares and memories of her time with Cersei's henchmen. As she grew stronger, Arya began to notice the small things about Gendry, the way he smiled when he thought she wasn't looking, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. She found herself looking forward to his visits, to the sound of his voice and the warmth of his presence. Gendry, too, was aware of the tension between them, the unspoken attraction that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. He tried to be patient, to let Arya heal at her own pace, but it was hard not to feel a sense of frustration, a sense that he was being forced to wait for something that seemed so right. As the days turned into weeks, Arya began to open up to Gendry, to let him see glimpses of the person she had been before the war, before Cersei. She would smile, occasionally, and laugh, and Gendry's heart would soar. He knew that she was still hurting, that she was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened to her, but he also knew that she was strong, that she would find a way to heal. One day, as Gendry was helping Arya to bathe, she suddenly flinched, her eyes flashing with fear. Gendry's heart skipped a beat as he realized what was happening, that she was having a flashback, that she was reliving some terrible moment from her past. He pulled her close, holding her tightly as she trembled, her body rigid with fear. "It's okay, Arya," he whispered, his voice soft. "I'm here. You're safe." Arya's eyes were closed, her face buried against his chest, and Gendry could feel her heart pounding, could feel her body shaking with fear. He held her tightly, trying to comfort her, trying to keep her safe. As the moment passed, Arya's body began to relax, her heart rate slowing, her breathing becoming more even. Gendry held her for a long time, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his heart aching with love and concern. When she finally pulled away, her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears. Gendry handed her a towel, and she dried her face, her eyes avoiding his. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Gendry's heart ached as he heard the pain and regret in her voice. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Arya," he said, his voice soft. "You're safe now. You're with me." Arya's eyes searched his face, and for a moment, Gendry thought he saw a glimmer of something, of a connection, of a spark of attraction. But then, her eyes clouded over, and she looked away. Gendry knew that he had to be patient, to let Arya heal at her own pace. He couldn't rush her, couldn't push her to talk about things she wasn't ready to discuss. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to be together again. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the castle, Gendry helped Arya to dress, to get ready for the evening. She was still weak, still recovering, but she was getting stronger, and Gendry could see the progress she was making. As they walked to the great hall, Arya's arm wrapped around his, Gendry felt a sense of pride, a sense of purpose. He was taking care of her, he was helping her to heal, and he was going to be there for her, no matter what. The great hall was quiet, the tables pushed to one side, the fire burning low. Gendry and Arya sat down at a small table, and Gendry ordered food, hot soup and bread, and Arya ate, her eyes closed, her face tilted up to the warmth of the fire. Gendry watched her, his heart full of love and concern. He knew that she still had a long way to go, that she still had to confront the demons of her past, but he also knew that she was strong, that she would find a way to heal. As the evening wore on, Arya's eyes began to droop, and Gendry knew that she was tired. He helped her to her feet, and they walked back to his chambers, the fire burning low, the castle quiet. Arya yawned, her eyes closing, and Gendry pulled her close, holding her tightly. "I'm here, Arya," he whispered, his voice soft. "You're safe. I'll always be here for you." And as he held her, Gendry knew that he would do anything to help her, to bring her back to life. He would wait for her, no matter how long it took, and he would be there for her, every step of the way.