literature

Mine is the Fury - Epilogue

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Half a year had passed in a flash and with each passing day the Stormlands felt more and more like home to Arya. The North would always be her true home. Winterfell would always be the seat of her father's house, the place that would forever hold her heart. At least it is what she made herself believe. In spite of it all she had yet to return back home. All these weeks she had spent at Storm's End, falling asleep next to Gendry, waking up next to Gendry. Always telling herself that she would leave eventually and always delaying this departure. Gendry never asked. She knew he was content that she was staying so long and scared that she would leave one day. Yet he never bothered to ask and Arya appreciated it. It was some kind of unspoken agreement between the two. He would not ask when she would leave and she would not say that she would go. Instead they were living in the present, cherishing and loving each other in a tacit consent.

After each time that Gendry told her that he loved her, Arya had believed him more and more. And one day she had realised that Gendry felt like home. It was not the Stormlands, which she too had come to like, but it was waking up next to the man that made her feel like home. He was the soothing force behind her. He gave her strength and peace and reassurance. She felt calm with him. Accepted and loved. He was familiar, he was warm, he was her sanctuary amongst all the chaos.
Arya had long since stopped thinking continuously about revenge. She had stopped thinking about Cersei albeit she remembered that she had sworn to herself to kill her. All these nights she had been listening to Gendry, who had never stopped to mollify her, to mitigate the pain and ease off the anger and the wrath. She had listened to his words. She had felt his arms around her and his breath on her skin, when he had sworn to love her and to revere her until his final breath of life. Despite the fear she had believed his words. She felt the wounds in her soul gradually healing. It was Gendry who had helped her. Through him she had discovered that she was not broken beyond repair. Gendry complemented her. And Arya knew that she was complementing him. Gendry felt like home. He was her home and she was unwilling to leave him. He had been the one to mend her, to support her and to be by her side ever since she had returned to Westeros.

The realisation felt strange to her and at first she was reluctant to accept her change of heart. Nevertheless she was less averse to the thought than she had believed she would be. She knew it was what Gendry wanted and although she had opposed it all along, she had decided that she wanted it for herself, as well.

So one night she took him by his hand and led him to the godswood of Storm's End. She led him beneath the heart tree, never letting go of his hand. The weirwood tree was young and without a face but it was a heart tree all the same. It would suffice. Snowflakes were falling softly on the naked branches of the young trees. The pale moonlight the only source of light.

Arya watched the change in Gendry's facial expression when realisation finally hit him and she felt a tug at her heartstrings when she saw the love and thankfulness inside his eyes. It only served to reassure her in her decision.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”, she began the ceremony. “Arya, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, true-born and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Gendry took one step closer to her and took her other hand into his before he answered, his voice thick with emotion. “Gendry, of House Baratheon. Do you take me, Arya of House Stark?”

Her father could not be there and no one else to present her, thus shortening the custom. It did not matter, Arya liked it better this way. No one there but the two of them. She did not need witnesses. No witnesses but for the old gods. She did not need a bridal gown. No wedding feast and guests and music. She was with him and it was all that mattered.

“I take this man,” Arya finally said and the ceremony was done. She was his wife now. Her name was Arya Baratheon, although she would always be a Stark.

“Arya,” Gendry breathed and took her face into his hands. He stared at her as if he had been starving all along and his hunger now had finally appeased. As if he had been a dying man and now had finally found salvation.

“And what comes after the wedding?”, Arya asked cheekily, before she put her arms around Gendry's neck and pressed herself against his body. My husband, she thought. It would take a while to get accustomed to the sound of it. Contrary to her expectations she felt good. Happy and almost light-headed.

Gendry then too wrapped his arms around her slender frame and placed a strong and firm kiss on her lips before he grinned into their kiss. “I would not want to miss out on that, m'lady.”
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believeinheaven's avatar
Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap  bravoooooo ooohhhh i love this!!!! la in love la in love la in love Playful Kiss: Faint Playful Kiss: Faint