The Weight of Memories

Arya's eyes snapped open, and she was back in the dark, damp cellar where Cersei's henchmen had subjected her to unspeakable torture. She could feel the weight of their hands on her, the pain of their blows, and the terror that had gripped her heart. Gendry's gentle voice whispered in her ear, "Arya, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe." She turned to him, her eyes wild, and he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, and he stroked her hair, trying to calm her down. The memories lingered, haunting her, and she couldn't shake the feeling of being a victim, of being powerless. As the days passed, the flashbacks intensified, and Arya found herself reliving the trauma over and over. Gendry was always there to comfort her, to hold her through the darkness, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about it. She was afraid of being vulnerable, of being weak. One evening, as they sat together in the great hall, Gendry asked her about her day. Arya hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to burden him with her problems, but at the same time, she longed to talk about it, to share her feelings with him. "I had a bad dream," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Gendry's eyes filled with concern, and he reached out to take her hand. "Tell me about it," he said gently. Arya hesitated, unsure of how to put her feelings into words. "I was back in the cellar," she said, her voice cracking. "I could feel their hands on me, their blows, their laughter." Gendry's grip on her hand tightened, and he pulled her close. "I'm so sorry, Arya," he whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that." Arya felt a lump form in her throat, and she began to cry. Gendry held her tightly, his arms a safe haven, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could let go. As she cried, the memories flooded back, and she relived the trauma all over again. But this time, she wasn't alone. Gendry was there to hold her, to comfort her, and to remind her that she was safe. As the night wore on, Arya's tears subsided, and she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She looked up at Gendry, her eyes red and puffy, and he smiled softly. "You're not alone, Arya," he said. "I'm here for you, always." Arya's heart swelled with emotion, and she felt a sense of gratitude towards him. She knew that she still had a long way to go, that she still had to confront her demons, but with Gendry by her side, she felt like she could face anything. As they sat together in the silence, Arya realized that she was starting to trust Gendry, to trust him with her secrets, her fears, and her heart. It was a fragile trust, one that could be broken at any moment, but it was a start. Gendry's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Arya felt a spark of attraction, a sense of connection that she couldn't ignore. She knew that she still had to be careful, that she still had to protect herself, but she also knew that she couldn't deny her feelings forever. As the night drew to a close, Gendry walked Arya back to his chambers, his arm around her waist. She didn't resist, didn't pull away, and Gendry knew that she was starting to accept him, to accept his care and his concern. As they stood outside his door, Gendry looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. "Arya," he whispered, his voice soft. "I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you." Arya's eyes met his, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. The air was charged with tension, and Arya knew that she was on the cusp of something, of something that could change her life forever.