The Price of Revenge

Gendry's eyes never left Arya's face as he sat beside her, his heart aching with concern and love. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft crackling of the candles and the gentle rise and fall of Arya's chest. He had ordered for a servant to bring hot water and clean clothes, and for the castle's healer to attend to her wounds. The healer had arrived earlier, and together, they had tended to Arya's battered body. As the night wore on, Gendry's thoughts turned to the past, to the memories they had shared, and to the future they could have. He knew that he had to be patient, to let Arya heal at her own pace. 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. The hours passed slowly, and Gendry's body began to ache from sitting in the same position for so long. But he refused to leave Arya's side, even when the healer told him that she would be fine, that she just needed rest. Gendry knew that Arya's wounds went far beyond the physical. He had seen the look in her eyes, a mixture of pain and determination that he knew all too well. As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Arya's eyes fluttered open. She gazed up at Gendry, her eyes unfocused, and her skin pale. Gendry's heart skipped a beat as he saw the pain and fear in her eyes. He leaned forward, his voice soft. "Arya, I'm here. You're safe." Arya's gaze drifted around the room, taking in her surroundings. She seemed disoriented, and her eyes kept drifting back to Gendry's face. He smiled softly, trying to reassure her. "You've been hurt, Arya. You're at Storm's End. I've got you." Arya's eyes closed, and she let out a faint sigh. Gendry's thumb stroked her hand, a gentle motion that seemed to soothe him as much as it soothed her. He knew that she would have a long road to recovery ahead of her, but he was ready to walk it with her, every step of the way. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Arya's eyes drifted open again. This time, she seemed more aware of her surroundings, and her gaze locked onto Gendry's face. He smiled softly, and she smiled back, a faint, tentative smile. "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 the girl he had known, the girl he had fallen in love with. 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 morning wore on, Arya's eyes grew heavy, and she drifted off to sleep. Gendry sat beside her, holding her hand, and watching her sleep. He knew that he would do anything to help her, to bring her back to life. And as he sat there, surrounded by the quiet of the castle, he knew that he would wait for her, no matter how long it took. The sound of rain pattering against the windows and the gentle rise and fall of Arya's chest were the only sounds in the room. Gendry's eyes never left her face, his heart aching with concern and love. He knew that Arya's quest for revenge had taken a toll on her, and he was determined to help her find a way to heal. As he sat there, Gendry realized that he still had the silver necklace he had given her, the one with the small, intricate Storm's End pendant. He had kept it safe, hoping that one day, she would return to him, and he could give it to her. He smiled softly, his heart filled with hope. Maybe, just maybe, that day had finally come.