"Why can't you be more like your sister?" Catelyn Stark wailed at her youngest daughter Arya. Arya had always been a handful, especially in comparison to her other four children.
"When will you understand that I'm not Sansa?" Arya shrieked as she stomped up the stairs in her heavy combat boots.
"Can't you just try to fit in? Please," Catelyn sighed loudly, "do this for me."
She was promptly answered with the slamming of a door from overhead.
Arya exhaled loudly before she let her small body slide down the length of the door, where she proceeded to slump, her head between her knees. Sansa, Sansa, Sansa, she thought bitterly. Why aren't you more like Sansa? Perfect Sansa. Pretty Sansa. Everybody just loves Sansa. But Arya did not want to be like her airheaded sister, she had no desire to moon over pretty boys and follow every rule their parents set to a tee.
After a few minutes of sitting perfectly still, evening out her breathing, and raising her head from between her knees, she collected herself from the carpeted floor and flattened her palms against her thighs. Arya stumbled over to her wardrobe and flung the doors open before grabbing all of the pretty pink dresses her mother had bought her over the years and stuffing them into an empty bag. Sansa can have them, for all I care, she thought as she filled the first bag. She tied a rough knot on the three bags full of pretty clothing and tossed them all into the hallway outside of her bedroom on the landing of the stairs.
She quickly ran a brush through her unruly dark hair, and swiped her sunglasses and coat from her desk before hastily exiting her room, closing the door as gently as she could. Arya rushed down the stairs, careful that her boots made as little sound as possible.
As she rounded the hallway and had her hand upon the front doorknob, she turned and shouted over her shoulder, "I'm going out! Don't wait up!" Before waiting for a response, she stole out of the house and lightly jogged over the lush grassy lawn into the crisp autumn wind. She pushed her sunglasses onto her nose and ran her fingers through her hair once again.
Arya had no particular place to go to, but it was a Friday afternoon, and she was bound to be able to find something to do. The Stark's had recently relocated from Winterfell in the North to the posh King's Landing one of the Southern most point of the country, which was hundreds of leagues away from everything she had ever known, as well as her favourite older brother Jon. Arya had not made any friends at the school that her and Sansa had started at, while her sister had been absorbed into the popular group as soon as she had set foot onto the school grounds. Not that Arya minded, she had never had any intention of trying to befriend any of the snobs that were attending the private grammar school, affectionately known as the Red Keep by the student body, the Stark parents had enrolled their children in. Arya's younger brothers Bran and Rickon would be attending the same school when they reached high school age, assuming that the Stark's were still in Kings Landing, and Bran had finished with his physical therapy from the fall he had taken mere weeks before they were set to leave for King's Landing, which Arya sincerely hoped that they weren't.
Arya had been dawdling along the main street for about ten minutes when she saw a dim café that sat almost hidden amongst the gaudy stores that surrounded every other inch of this strip of road. She stepped into the dusky store, the sharp smell of nicotine and caffeine hitting her nostrils as soon as she was within the premises. She pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and noticed that there were only a few tables within the café, and only one of them was occupied by a hulking figure, with smoke wafting above his head and hitting the ceiling in pretty plumes. There was a young man standing behind the counter, absently wiping porcelain mugs and looking deeply lost within his thoughts. Arya watched him as he continued to wipe the same mug; upon closer inspection she noticed that he was a lot younger than she'd initially thought, Arya surmised that he couldn't be any older than her, at sixteen. His hair was the colour of straw and he was rather plump, his chin wobbling slightly as he cleaned the same dish again and again.
When he looked up, finally noticing the presence of a customer, Arya averted her eyes, and took a seat at a table that looked out onto the street. She perched carefully, making sure to keep her eyes trained on what was ahead of her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out to see that her mother was trying to call her. She placed the phone on the table in front of her; it proceeded to buzz loudly against the hard wood.
"Not gonna answer that?" asked a deep voice from behind her.
Arya gave a start, but did not turn to see who had approached. "Wasn't planning on it," she stated bitingly before flicking her eyes up to see a tall man standing above her. He had thick black hair that hung too long in his face, she noted. His eyes were a bright ocean blue, and there was a smirk that lingered on his face, with a dimple piercing his right cheek. Arya then noticed his arms, which were bulked with muscles and tanned, framed in a slim fitting white t-shirt. She flushed and averted her gaze back to the traffic rushing past on the main street.
The man cleared his throat, and asked in a gruff voice, "What can I get for you?"
"Can I just get a triple espresso?" Arya asked flashing him a closed mouth smile and fixing him with a stare from her stormy grey eyes.
He lifted his eyebrows, but didn't say anything other than, "Coming up," before striding to the counter and handing the straw-haired boy the paper he had scrawled her order on. Arya watched the interaction from where she twisted in her seat. The pair laughed at something out of her earshot, and both glanced over to see the stares they were receiving from Arya's table. Arya hurriedly turned back to looking out of the window. There was now a young couple pressed against the glass, Arya thought it looked like the guy was trying to suck one of the girls lungs up. Cringing, she decided that she'd seen enough of what the streets of Kings Landing had to offer, so she promptly swapped to a seat on the opposite side of the table. This way, she was also able to observe the spectacle of the café she was in with ease.
There was a bell situated above the door that rang loudly as the door opened and in stepped a man with vibrant red hair that was streaked white blonde on one side. Arya eyed him curiously from her vantage point, and she noticed that the two young men who worked at the establishment watched him with a careful eye as he sat at a table that faced the front of the store, and then locked eyes with Arya; insolent grey eyes meeting cool hazel ones. Arya did not break their eye contact until the man with black hair appeared with her coffee on a saucer with a napkin and a small scrap of paper sticking beneath the edge of the mug.
She eyed the boy carefully as she laid the mug onto the table and moved to grab the scraggly piece of paper. He gave a sharp shake of his head, and whispered, "Open it in a few minutes."
Bewildered, Arya was trying to think of what to tell this stranger when he abruptly turned on his heel and strode to the table of the man with dual-toned hair. Arya's phone began to buzz on the table again, and she noticed that the four other men in the café had fixed their eyes on her and the loud vibrations of her phone. She felt the heat begin to rise in her cheeks and she looked down to see that it wasn't her mother calling, but her younger brother Bran.
Relieved, Arya quickly answered the call with a light sigh, "Hi Bran," she whispered awkwardly in the near-silent café. "How's physical therapy?"
"Ugh," her younger brothers voice rang through her phone's tinny speaker. "Don't even get me started."
"At least you didn't have to come down to hell. I swear, if I have to listen to another word about how great the schools and job opportunities are here," Arya groaned. Her parents had not stop shoving college pamphlets and praising the superior educational system of the South for the past 3 weeks they had been here. "How is home? Are the dogs okay? How about Robb? Have you heard from Jon recently?"
"Home is freezing," Bran laughed. Winterfell was one of the coldest places in the country at the best of times, and the encroaching winter was looking to be one of the worst of the past few decades. "Summer's great, so's Grey Wind," Bran paused before adding, "Shaggydog's not coping well at all. I think he misses Rickon." Both Stark children let out a sigh. Rickon had let his dog grow wild, and now Bran and Robb were set to look after his beast, though he only responded well to young Rickon. "But we'll be alright. Robb's good, I think. He's stripped some of his university workload, and has focussed on spending more time working at Dad's factory while he's away. I think he sometimes forgets that it's Dad's company."
Arya laughed; Robb had the tendency to take things a little too seriously at the best of times. With half of the Starks moving South to collaborate Stark Incorporated and Baratheon Industries, Arya's father, Ned Stark, had asked Robb to fill in a little bit with certain meetings and important decisions, but as Arya had suspected would happen, Robb got into his mind that he was head of the company in the North now. Lord Robb Bran and Arya had jokingly nicknamed him when he got all holier-than-thou.
"I haven't heard a scrap of news from Jon though," Bran said sadly. Jon was their half-brother, Jon Snow. He was Arya's favourite brother, though she couldn't tell anyone that she had a favourite. Jon, who had turned 21 not too long ago, he had graduated high school at the age of 16 and left home to go to a prestigious university that was even farther north than Winterfell, known as The Wall to students.
Arya sighed, "Yeah, me either. I hope he hasn't gone on another one of his spelunking adventures without telling us." The only reason Arya hoped that, was that the last time Jon told her of his adventures she'd made him promise that he would take her along with him on the next one.
"Listen, the reason I'm calling," Bran started talking fast, and his voice shook as he tried to force the words out, "is…"
"Mother called you," Arya stated, interrupting him.
"Yes," Bran breathed, "but I did want to talk to you, I just haven't gotten around to calling in the last few days."
"It's alright Bran, but you can inform her that I won't be home until late tonight," she said in a clipped voice before softening. "Look, I'm sorry you're in the middle of this, but I've got to go. I'll give you a call next week sometime. Miss you."
"Miss you too," she heard Bran say with a sigh as she clicked the phone off.
Arya picked up the mug that rested in front of her and took a sip of the strong bitter coffee, relishing the taste as the coffee hit the back if her throat. She closed her eyes and took another long pull of the black liquid into her mouth. She let out a contented sigh, though when she opened her eyes and looked around the café, she noticed that the man with the black hair, and the man with the red and white hair were both watching her. Awkwardly, she tried to turn to her side as she took another swig of her coffee and began to pull her purse out, she plucked a couple of notes and tossed them onto the table. She tossed back the last of the coffee and collected the scrap of paper from the saucer along with her coat.
She knocked her chair back beneath the table and made for the door, her mind swam with thoughts of her younger brother; he was only a year younger than her and crippled for life. The doctors said he would never walk again after his fall. Bran had always been a climber, he would climb anything and everything, trees, buildings; Arya and him had always dreamed of joining Jon on his spelunking journeys—Arya for the adventure, and Bran for climbing and scaling unfamiliar ground.
As Arya pushed through the front door of the small café she was assaulted by a harsh breeze that nearly knocked her from her feet. She pulled the collar of her coat up to cover her neck and cursed herself for not bringing a woollen beanie as she felt her ears begin to sting with cold. Arya began walking as fast as she could, trying to find somewhere to be, she was not ready to go home, didn't want to speak with her mother, not yet.
Soon, she found herself approaching a park, where the setting sun shone brightly, and the park benches were free of people and screaming children. Arya set herself upon the closest bench with a street lamp just flickering on above her perch. She raised her hands to her face and rubbed her cold cheeks until she gained the feeling back, before burrowing her hands within the depths of her coat pockets in an attempt to warm them as best as she could, when she felt the scrap of the paper from the man in the café.
Gingerly, she plucked the note from her jacket and unfolded it. The note read: Gendry. Gathering at Duskendale tonight. 10 pm, which was followed by a messily scrawled phone number. Very funny, Arya thought bitterly. No one would ever invite her anywhere; everyone always treated her like a kid due to her short stature and scrawny physique. Arya stood at just 5'1" and did not even reach 100lbs in weight, she rarely wore make up and was currently dressed in jeans and a scraggly old t-shirt that had once belonged to Jon, it's black colour washed to a faded grey and the design on the front cracked from age. She scrunched the note into a ball and tossed it towards the bin that sat on the opposite end of the bench.
A shiver ran through Arya as she tapped her feet in a feeble attempt to warm any part of her body. She heard a rustling from behind her, and as she was turning around to see what was making the noise, she felt a hand press against her shoulder. As quick as a snake, she clasped the arm of the one touching her and pried it from her shoulder and bent it back with a force that was usually not seen in someone so small.
"Arya!" her assailants' high-pitched voice wailed. "Leave off! It's Sansa!"
Arya dropped the wrist and looked up to see her sisters' face screwed up in pain. She let out a relieved breath before snapping at Sansa, "What do you think you're doing?" She huffed angrily, "Don't you know not to sneak up on people!"
Sansa arced up at Arya's tone, "Well, I wouldn't have to sneak up on anyone if you didn't run off all the time! Everyone's been worrying themselves to death over you, and here you are just relaxing in the park like it's a nice summer's day."
"Oh, yeah," Arya breathed, her words dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure everyone's just all in a tizzy. Just go home Sansa. I'll be there later."
But her sister did not budge, she just pushed her long auburn hair behind her ear, and gazed at Arya with her deep Tully blue eyes. Arya and Sansa were polar opposites, where Arya was short, Sansa was tall and lithe, with curves and breasts, while Arya was straight up and down with small buds for breasts that scarcely needed a bra for support. Sansa looked just like their mother Catelyn had as a child, with Robb, Bran, and Rickon all sharing the same auburn hair and deep blue eyes. Everyone said Arya had the Stark look; she had a long face framed with dark hair and grey eyes, the same as her father and Jon. They all say that she was a dead-ringer for the late aunt Lyanna, though Lyanna was often described as one of the most beautiful women anyone had ever laid eyes on. Arya often scoffed when people made the comparison.
"How about," Sansa started lightly, just above a whisper, "we go out and grab a drink?"
Arya hesitated; her sister never usually invited her to do anything together, often treating her like an acquaintance, rather than a blood relative. Arya would typically have just snapped that she didn't need anyone's charity, but it was getting awfully cold as the sun dipped below the trees and the wind picked up. "Okay," Arya sighed, glad to have something else to do than sit in the empty park any longer.
They walked side by side in silence, the wind blowing both of their hair wildly behind them. They soon came upon the café that Arya had vacated just an hour earlier, but before she could say anything, her sister stepped within the dim room that now had candles lit upon the tables which were crowded with men and women who looked to be in their late-twenties and early-thirties dressed in bright colours and bowler hats with extravagant make up and tittering wildly about some party tonight that was going to be "just divine".
"Oh well," Arya whispered in her sisters' ear, "looks a bit crowded in here. We should probably find somewhere else to get to." And as soon as the words were out, the man with dark hair, Gendry, with the note was smiling in her direction and waving signalling her to come over to the counter.
"Do you know him?" Sansa said with a giggle as she flashed a look back at the man with his bright, smiling eyes and bulging muscles.
"Not really, I was in here earlier today," Arya admitted as Sansa grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her towards the counter.
"Back so soon?" he asked with a laugh.
Sansa gave her a look that Arya just brushed off. "Well, I figured the coffee was so good, I would show my lovely sister Sansa here," she nodded at her sister, "just how good it is."
He nodded at her, "Nice to meet you Sansa, Gendry," he said by way of introduction. Pleasantries were exchanged between the two, and Arya sighed deeply, and planted herself on one of the stools that lined the front of the countertop. Gendry moved his eyes towards Arya, "Well, you know my name, but I have no clue who you are," he said with a smirk.
"Arya," she stated.
"So," he continued, unperturbed by her dark demeanour, "are you coming to Duskendale tonight Arya?"
Arya looked at him blankly, and remembered the note he had given her; the note she had tossed into the rubbish. Before Arya could get a word out, her sister had interrupted, "Duskendale? Is that where The Seven are playing tonight?"
Arya's expression remained blank. Who are The Seven? Where even is Duskendale? "Who?" she asked dumbly.
"The Seven," Sansa nearly shouted at her younger sister. "You can't tell me that you haven't heard of them." Though judging by her expression, Sansa picked up the unfamiliarity with them. "They are just one of the best bands to come out of Westeros in the last, like, 700 years."
Arya rolled her eyes. Sansa had a very definite way of over exaggerating ever little thing, and her taste in music certainly didn't fit in with her younger sisters love of rock 'n' roll, indie, and electro. "What's this? Some new S-Club group then?"
Gendry let out a snort of laughter at Arya's light jape, though her sister had the very opposite reaction with her eyes darkening in anger, "Arya! You always ruin everything!" she whispered harshly at her sister, trying the keep her voice down so as not to cause a scene. Arya just smiled back at her sister, which caused her to shut her mouth, but continue to steam angrily.
"If you're interested," Gendry offered, "I can get your names put onto the list, a buddy of mine is working the doors at the Dun Fort."
Arya was just about to decline the offer, when Sansa nearly jumped off of her stool and rushed to say, "Oh, that would be amazing!"
Gendry had a rather amused smile on his face. "S'not a problem, just write down your names and numbers here," he said pushing a scrap of paper from his order pad in front of them before turning around to help a customer who was shouting impatiently for service.
"Sansa," Arya hissed at her sister as she was writing her details upon the sheet of paper. "What do you think you are doing? We can't go to Duskendale tonight. You were just trying to drag me home, not half an hour ago."
"It'll be fine, sweet sister," Sansa said in a sweeter-than-honey tone. "I'll just call Dad and let him know that you're staying the night out with Jeyne Poole and I."
"Oh, yeah," Arya scoffed, "that won't seem odd in the slightest, as I always spend time with you and your airheaded friends."
"Hey! Play nice. Anyway, this will keep you out of the house and away from Mother, isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"
A smug smile spread upon Sansas' face as Arya stayed silent, not able to come up with a plausible excuse to change her sisters' mind. "Fine," she sighed as she picked up the pen and lazily scrawled Arya Stark, followed by her phone number underneath that of her sisters neat, loopy handwriting. "But if we get murdered while at this Fort place, I am going to be so pissed."
"Oh, please, don't be so dramatic," she said before leaning over and mussing Arya's hair playfully. Arya scowled at her sister, who simply poked her tongue out at her.
They ordered two coffees, Arya's triple espresso, and a skinny soy vanilla latte for Sansa. "Ugh, that is disgusting," Sansa had scolded her when she'd gotten her strong black coffee.
"This?" Arya asked incredulously. "Look at yourself. You stumbled even ordering the damn thing. If you don't like the taste of coffee, and have to smother it in milk and sugar syrups, I don't understand why you even drink the stuff."
Arya and Sansa constantly bickered as they grew up, with Sansa being a girly girl and Arya being the polar opposite. Sansa had been so excited when her baby sister had been brought home from the hospital, she would get to play dolls and dress ups with someone. Growing up with two older brothers for the first two years of her life had left her with a need for female companionship, and she had been ecstatic when her parents had announced that she would have a little sister. Though once Arya was old enough the walk and talk, Sansa's hopes were dashed, it was just like having another brother. Arya preferred going on adventures with their older brothers and playing in the mud, while Sansa liked the indoors and playing tea parties and neat games. Their bickering had not ceased, even now at ages 16 and 18 they still fought like they were 6 and 8, though with less hair pulling.
After a few more moments of arguing Arya had had enough. "Just call Dad," she instructed her sister. Sansa walked away from the counter and stepped outside into the cold rush of wind on the street.
Arya sighed and took another sip of her coffee, the warmth rushing down her throat and spreading across her chest. Gendry walked back behind the counter and asked in a serious voice, "So, are you two really sisters?"
Arya just nodded. Of course he was asking about Sansa, Everybody always does. Her conversation with her mother from before she stomped out of the house ringing through her head, "Why can't you be more like your sister?"
"You look nothing alike," he noted giving her a quick once over, which left her flushing and pulling her coat tight around her waist, covering the ratty t-shirt that covered her torso.
"Yeah, I look like my dad, and she looks like our mother and brothers," she said without really thinking. She snapped her mouth shut, she didn't even know this man, and she was just opening up to him about her family, something she never did.
"So, I haven't seen you around here before," Gendry commented as he collected the sheet with their information on it.
"Just moved down," she said. "Temporarily," or at least she hoped it was temporary.
"Oh, really?" Arya couldn't stop staring into his bright blue eyes as he continued to talk and question her. "Where from?"
"Winterfell," Arya answered shortly. She was willingly giving up all of this information about herself, while she had heard nothing of the man in front of her. "What about you? Where are you from?" she eyed him carefully, she was always good at spotting liars.
"King's Landing, born and bred," he said, before switching the topic back to her. "So, Winterfell, how does the coldest autumn in fifty years in King's Landing compare to up North?" he was smiling as he asked the question.
"This isn't cold," Arya stated, though a few hours ago, her body had been screaming at her to get out of the chill. "Winterfell in July is cold, gets down to below 0°. But I don't know how anyone can grow their whole lives in the heat you get down here. The week I arrived, it was 40° for five days straight."
"You get used to it," Gendry chuckled as Sansa was walking back up to them, tucking her phone into the pocket of her skirt. "So, how are you ladies getting up to Duskendale this evening?"
Arya frowned at being called 'ladies.' But Sansa was on the ball, "Oh, I'm driving, a friend of mine was already thinking of going, so I'm going to pick her up along the way. What time does the show start?"
"Around ten pm. Write down your friends name if you want."
"Great, we'll see you there," Sansa scrawled Jeyne's name down in her loopy, girly handwriting, before draining the last of her coffee and tugged Arya to her feet.
"Lovely to meet you, milady," Gendry said with a smile and a wink as Arya clambered to her feet.
Arya scowled at him before slinking out of the now bustling café, she heard him laughing as the bell above the door rang when she flung it open.
The wind had begun to die down a bit, and the chill in the air now felt welcoming to Arya after the overcrowded café.
Sansa looked her sister up and down, "Okay, before we do anything. You cannot go anywhere wearing that t-shirt. You look like an urchin."
"I thought the whole point of this was to keep me out of the house, and away from the parental figures," Arya pointed out, angry at Sansa's appraisal of her outfit.
"Who said anything about going home for clothes?" Sansa said with a sparkle in her eye that Arya did not like the look of.
They began to trawl down the bustling main street. Friday nights seemed to draw out almost all of the residents of King's Landing, to either the pubs or to the high-end shopping. Sansa dragged Arya into a range of different stores that were filled with delicate, feminine clothing, blouses and dresses and skirts that Arya had no want to wear.
After the fifth store they had left, Sansa was grumbling quietly about her sister and her pickiness, Arya spotted a small store with a dark façade and a range of band posters lining the front window, with Arctic Monkeys, Modest Mouse, Frightened Rabbit, and Weezer amongst them.
"Ugh, Arya," Sansa complained as she saw where her sister was walking, "you're not really going in there, are you?"
"Come on, Sans, it doesn't have to go onto your body. So, calm yourself."
They traipsed into the tightly packed store. There was a young woman with short dark hair standing behind the cash register. Her heavily made up eyes flicked up as the sisters walked into the store, a gust of cool air following them. "Can I help you?" she asked the pair.
"Just browsing," Sansa called for the both of them.
They looked through the rows and rows of shirts and jackets, jeans and skirts. Sansa picked up a range of different shirts, and blouses to show Arya. These were definitely more to her style; there were a couple of sheer shirts in maroon and turquoise, t-shirts with patterned pockets and cartoon prints, but the one that grabbed Arya's attention was black lacy shirt with a low cut back and triangular cut outs on the sides, with sleeves that reached just above the elbows.
Sansa smiled contentedly as she saw her younger sisters grey eyes widen. She thrust the shirt towards her and proceeded to look through the eclectic mix of jewellery and accessories. She pulled up a silver wolfs head pendant and dangled it in front of her younger sisters face. "Oh, Sansa. It looks just like Nymeria, doesn't it?"
Nymeria was Arya's dog, from the same litter that had Ghost, Grey Wind, Lady, Summer, and Shaggydog. They were owned by each of the Stark children, Jon included—Arya always included Jon as a Stark, despite his different surname. All of the dogs had strange features, they looked like a pack of wolves, and they were some of the largest dogs any of the Starks had ever seen. Arya had sent Nymeria running, set her free in order to keep her safe. She had always hated been cooped up at their home in Winterfell, and Arya could sympathise with her need for freedom and adventure, Arya could never sit still she needed to move around, didn't like staying in the same place for too long.
"Come on, this'll do," Arya said, swiping the necklace from her sisters grasp and collecting the lacy shirt she was purchasing and grabbing a black leather jacket from a display in her size and placing them upon the counter in front of the young woman, whose nametag read: Shae.
"You girls up to much this evening?" Shae asked kindly as she began scanning the items and removing the anti-theft pins.
"Oh, we're heading up to Duskendale for The Seven's show tonight," Sansa almost squealed with excitement.
"I might see you there."
"Christ, does everyone in this city know something I don't?" Arya mumbled. She had not even heard of The Seven until an hour and a half ago.
"Don't mind Arya," Sansa said, while smiling at the sales assistant. "She hasn't heard The Seven yet."
"Oh, don't worry darl', you're going to love them," Shae informed her with a knowing smile. She pointed at the ragged t-shirt she was wearing, which was a vintage Joy Division shirt, the cracked print and the fraying hem and collar showing the years of love it had received. "They're kind of like The Strokes meets Interpol."
When they'd finished ringing up the items, and Sansa had put the bill onto the visa card their father had given her when she had turned sixteen. She wouldn't let Arya see the bill and how much everything had costed as they made their way back to the car. It was getting pretty late by the time they reached the vehicle. Their fathers' black BMW M3 convertible sat gleaming under a streetlamp, the girls rushed to the sanctuary of the vehicle and climbed in out of the cold.
Sansa immediately started the car and blasted the heater and the radio. "Get changed," she instructed Arya as she thrust the bag of clothes into her lap.
Arya obeyed as the car began to roar down the dark street. She stripped her coat and shirt from her shoulders, and was sitting in just a black bra when she noticed a motorcycle sitting parallel to their car, and she quickly slumped herself against the back of the car seat even though it was likely too dark to see. She pulled her new shirt over her head, and tugged it over her waist, where it cinched in. She pulled the pendant over her neck and tossed the leather jacket over her shoulders. By the time she looked back out of the window the motorcycle was gone, and they were passing through the town of Rosby, just north of King's Landing, where Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole lived.
"Tell me again, why you hang out with Jeyne," Arya said snidely as she watched her sister.
"Come off it Arya," Sansa snapped. "She's my friend. I guess you wouldn't know much about that though."
Just as Arya was ready to spew a fountain of profanities at her sister, she slammed on the brakes in front of a quaint family house. "Here we are," Sansa breathed before Arya could say anything back. "Get into the back seat," Arya did as she was commanded, she couldn't be bothered arguing anymore with her sister. She was going to have to try and drown out the mindless drivel that her sister and her friend were going to be chatting about for the next twenty minutes until they reached Duskendale.
Jeyne slid into the front seat with her dark hair tied into a high ponytail on the top of her head and her dark eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, she was dressed in a pale blue peter pan collar dress with a white trim detailing the buttons that lined the front of the dress, and a beige cardigan draped across her shoulders. She's going to freeze to death, Arya though as she rubbed her own hands along the thighs of her jeans in order to warm her legs through the denim.
"Hey Arya," Jeyne greeted with a smile from her lips that were pale pink with lipstick.
"Hi," Arya mumbled as Sansa was climbing into her own side of the car.
"You'll never guess what Jeyne," Sansa was saying as she turned the key in the ignition, "Arya still hasn't heard The Seven!"
"No way! I'll hook my iPod into the radio and you'll see what you're in for tonight," there was a slow build up of guitars as the first track started. "Everyone loves them. They're the best thing in King's Landing!"
The rhythm guitar kicked in, building the pace of the track, and a deep voice began to sing. Arya was actually surprised, they weren't too bad. Pretty raw, a bit garage-y, but what surprised her most of all was that Sansa and her actually liked something that was the same. "Wow, this isn't too bad," Arya informed them as they skipped onto the next track.
"Told ya," Sansa said poking out her tongue at her younger sister in the rear vision mirror.
The rest of the car ride Arya stayed silent, drowning out the sounds of her sisters' conversation and keeping her eyes closed. Soon they were driving through the cobbled streets of Duskendale. The streets were lined with darkened storefronts, and there was a lighthouse shining off the coast and over the Blackwater Bay. They drove through the winding streets of Duskendale for a few minutes before they drove up an incline that led up to what Arya assumed was the Dun Fort.
There was quite a crowd forming out the front of the venue, with people milling about, a fair few wearing shirts that boasted The Seven. It was just after 9:30 when Sansa pulled the BMW into park between a row of heavy looking choppers and a bunch of muscle cars. The two older girls hopped out of the three-door car before Arya could push forward the passenger's seat and scramble out of the car very ungraciously. Her hair was tangling in front of her eyes as she quickly tried to swipe the strands behind her ears. The gust that assaulted the three girls was strong and chilled Arya right to the bone. She pulled the jacket tighter around her and crossed her arms as she began to walk the short way up to where the crowd was waiting by the front doors of the Dun Fort.
As the three of them got to the doors, Arya strode purposefully for the front of the line, and stated their names. They were handed a handful of drinks cards each, weren't asked for ID and bypassed the huge line entirely.
Sansa and Jeyne were smiling like crazy, and Jeyne asked how she'd managed to get them onto the list at such short notice. "Oh, you have Arya to thank for that," she said tossing a wink at her younger sister.
Arya rolled her eyes, and told her sister to message her if she needed her, and that they'd catch up after the show. Arya quickly escaped from her sister and walked up to the crowded bar, she had never been able to get away with having any more than a glass of wine with dinner when she was with her parents, and everyone knew the Starks in Winterfell, so she couldn't even get served at the local pub in Winter Town. She soon snaked her way to the front of the bar where she was reading all the labels on the liquor bottles lining the mirrored wall behind the bar, when a body stepped in front of her. She lifted her gaze to the young woman who was serving behind the bar, she quickly ordered an ale; when it was placed in front of her she kept her gaze down and passed her one of the drinks cards, hoping she didn't notice how young she looked and kick her out. Though she didn't say anything, just gave her a strange look and continued about serving the other rowdy youths that were crowded around the bar.
With her beer in hand, Arya moved through the crowd and into the front of the hall where the stage was set up, crowded with different sized speakers, a large drum set at the back of the stage and a variety of different instruments. She could scarcely see the floor of the stage over all of the bodies that were already waiting at the front of the stage when a voice whispered just above her ear, "Milady."
She whipped around with a glare, "Do not call me milady," she scolded Gendry, whom she had just met a few hours earlier. She nearly spilled the beer that she was holding all over him in her haste, though the action only served to make him laugh.
"As milady commands," he breathed between his laughter. She shoved him in the shoulder, hard, though it seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever, as his laughter just seemed to increase. "Aren't you a bit young for that?" he asked pointing at the pint that was held tightly in her hand after he had recovered.
She frowned at him, "See, now, why would they serve me if I was too young?"
"Pretty girl like you, I bet they give them to you free as well."
Arya nearly burst out laughing, 'pretty' had never been a word people used to describe her. The most common name she had received when she was growing up had been Arya Horseface, with Arya Underfoot coming in a close second. "No. Really, no," she said before remembering that she had in fact been given the free drinks cards upon her entry.
"Well, I'm sure you'll like The Seven," he informed her. "Nothing like S-Club," he let her know with another grin, his bright blue eyes dancing. "Do you still have my number? Maybe we can catch up after the show."
Arya shook her head; she had thrown it out, thinking it was just a joke being played on her. But she handed him her phone to put his number in, she had no idea why he wanted to talk with her. Probably to see Sansa, Arya sighed inwardly. "I've gotta run, I'll see you around though," he said with a wink and a mischievous grin as he handed her phone back, "Milady."
Before Arya even had a chance to react, Gendry was darting through the crowd away from her. And then Arya was stood amongst a throng of unfamiliar people with her vision obscured by the row of people who were over a head taller than her. After she finished her beer, she crumpled the plastic cup and tossed it onto the floor, the alcohol was going straight to her head before she realised that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. The rush of warmth to her face that followed the ale, and the wobbly feeling in her legs was telling her that the one pint was more than enough on her empty stomach.
As the stage area continued to fill, the lights began to dim, and raucous cheering and applauding began as the crowd began to chant "Se-ven! Se-ven! Se-ven!" repeatedly.
There were a couple of figures entering onto the stage that Arya could see, and the crowd began to push wildly, with Arya being thrust around violently, though she managed to be pushed forward, where she was behind a pair of younger girls, whom she could just see over the top of. There was a man with a shaggy beard and wearing a bright yellow jacket that climbed behind the drum set, and the bassist was almost right in front of Arya who looked rather young with pale blonde hair. One of the guitarists was a slightly older man with thinning brown hair and a long, pointed nose; the man on keyboard stood very tall, as he stooped above his instrument, his large stomach poking out beneath his bright red t-shirt. There was a tall young man with red-gold hair that stepped up to the microphone and shouted his greetings into the crowd. It was right then that Arya noticed the rhythm guitarist, who stood on the opposite side of the stage, and was slightly obscured by the lead singers tall figure. The guitarist had shaggy black hair, and muscles bulging from beneath his white t-shirt. "Well, I'm sure you'll like The Seven," he had informed her. That cocky bastard, she thought as she watched Gendry pick up his instrument.
The first song started with a rapid pace that had the first dozen rows jumping and thrashing about. After the first few songs, the lead singer introduced himself and his band mates, "I am Beric, this strapping lad beside me is Gendry, on drums is Lem, keyboards is Thoros, that guitar over there is ol' Tom O'Sevens, and on bass is little Edric," the bassist frowned at Beric.
So, who's the seventh? Arya thought, it would be rather stupid to have a band called The Seven when it only had six members.
"And last, but in no way least, we have Anguy mixing for us," Beric nodded to where a tower of speakers had been set up, with a young man with red hair and freckles who gave a sheepish wave to the crowd that had turned their heads his way. "And without any further adieu, here's one of our new tracks."
They proceeded to burst out with a fast-paced grunge-sounding track with catchy lyrics that had the audience chanting along. Arya caught the eye of Gendry once in the middle of one of the songs when he was leaning into his microphone singing backups. Arya quickly averted her gaze, and watched the bassist, Edric, who was standing almost directly in front of her.
There was no denying that the band had a presence, they commanded everyone in the entire hall, and their sound was catchy and danceable. They played for another half an hour, with Arya slipping out the back of the crowd up to the bar once again. The beer she'd had earlier had left her flushed, but she was feeling much better than when it had first hit her like a punch in the chest.
She strode up to the near-empty bar and ordered another pint, and taking a seat on one of the vacated couches at the back of the Dun Fort. She nodded her head along with the heavy beat, the bass reverberating through her chest. After their set had finished, Arya's phone began to buzz. Sansa's message read, "OMG, I didn't realise Gendry was in The Seven!"
"Ready to leave?" Arya replied, halfway through her beer.
"Oh, not just yet. It's still early. Half an hour and then we'll meet at the car."
Another message buzzed on her phone, "So, what'd you think?" Gendry's message piped through.
"Not horrible," Arya relented.
"Oh, come on. We're better than that? Wanna meet the band?"
Arya wasn't sure what she wanted to do. However cool it would be to go backstage, she didn't want to admit to this near stranger that she loved the show, or even that she liked the show. This is too weird, Arya thought sipping on her beer.
After a few minutes, she still hadn't replied, and her phone buzzed with another message, "We don't bite. Come 'round to the stage door."
"Feels a bit too groupie-ish," Arya relented. The girls that milled around the stage doors were the ones looking for a root from someone pseudo famous. "Anyway, I'm leaving in a minute."
"Haha, alright. See you next time Arya Stark."
Arya flushed, which was pathetic, and very unlike her. She didn't flush over attractive males, or even give them a second thought. That was Sansa; she fawned over big muscles and pretty faces. Arya was different. Arya had no use for such pathetic girlishness.
She downed the rest of her beer, and quickly replaced it with another, along with a glass of water. By the time half an hour had passed, Arya was certainly feeling the alcohol running straight to her head, feeling very drunk indeed. She called Sansa phone, which went to voicemail after a few rings. She called again, and was met with boisterous laughter, when Sansa picked up the phone, "Arya! Where are you?"
"I'm by the bar, waiting for you. I thought we were leaving now?"
"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud," Sansa scolded her younger sister. "Come backstage! Jeyne and I are here, and it's so much fun. Everyone is so lovely."
"I don't think that's a very good idea," Arya said hesitantly.
"Come on, party pooper," Sansa insisted. "We'll leave in a bit, but you've got to come here first."
"Fine, whatever," Arya conceded. "I'll be right there," she said hanging up the phone. Brilliant, she thought bitterly.
She grabbed the leather jacket that she had peeled off of her sweaty back from where it lay across the table. Picked up the half-full pint and wandered around to find the band room. There was a heavy-set man with two full sleeves of tribal looking tattoos stationed out the front of the room, "Name?" he asked her in a gruff voice.
"Uh, Arya," she told him. "Stark."
"Go on through," he said opening the door, his steely expression never faltering.
She walked in silently, and her senses were assaulted by the smell of whiskey and stale beer.
"Arya!" Sansa squealed from across the room whilst jumping to her feet.
"Sansa," she nodded, wondering why her sister was so interested in her wellbeing, and why she seemed so excited to see her. She took another sip of her beer, which was starting to taste rather flat, from her nursing it. "Ready to go?" she asked her sister, feeling incredibly out of place, as she looked around at the room full of strangers.
"Oh, just another few minutes, I'm having too much fun."
Arya sat herself on a vacant armchair, she crossed her legs beneath herself and observed the band members and they drank and laughed. The singer, Beric, was making out with a tall woman with dark blonde hair at the far end of the room. Thoros, Lem, and Tom appeared to be deep in conversation. Leaving Gendry and Edric chatting amiably with Jeyne, and Sansa when she appeared back there after telling Arya to stick around.
She sighed heavily, and continued to sip her flat beer in silence. She closed her eyes, and felt like the world was shifting and turning beneath her. I shouldn't have drank this much, she thought, taking another drink. I need something to eat.
She looked around the room, and noticed Gendry watching her with cool blue eyes, from where he was standing with her sister and friend. He tapped his wrist, and there was a question on his face. Arya just shrugged and continued gazing around the room, hoping there was some sort of food around.
"Thought you'd have left by now," Gendry said as he made his way to where she was perched.
"Oh, well, Sansa's my ride. And I'm in no fit state to drive," she murmured. If I even had my licence, that is. "So, imagine if I said I hated The Seven before you guys went on stage?" Arya asked with a chuckle.
"Ouch, don't ease into it or anything," he said, grabbing his chest in mock-hurt.
"Oh, shut up, you already know you're fantastic. You don't need anyone to tell you that," she said. "I think the wildly screaming crowd would have inflated your ego enough."
"Fantastic, are we?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows are her.
"Stupid," she muttered under her breath, giving his shoulder a rough shove.
"You know," he said with a grin, "you shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you."
"Well, then I wouldn't get to insult anyone," she told him, gesturing to her short, skinny legs. He released a loud laugh, that drew Sansa's eyes straight over to them, her sister giving her a knowing wink, to which Arya just screwed her face up, and tapped on her left wrist, silently informing her it was time to go.
"Okay, well I think we're heading off now," she told Gendry when he'd finally recovered from his laughing fit.
"So soon?" he asked, and then looked at the clock and noticed it was already after 1am.
"I am knackered," she told him as she jumped up from her seat a little too quickly, blood rushing straight to her head, making her sway a little on her feet. "Come on Sans," Arya beckoned her sister towards the exit.
"Coming," Sansa told her sister impatiently, before spouting her goodbyes to the men she had been talking with.
"So, can I call you sometime?" Gendry asked with a slight smile on his lips, while running a hand through his already messy hair.
"Me?" she asked, and when he nodded, she just stuttered out a, "S-sure, I guess."
His smile faltered a bit, but then he just grinned wider as Sansa grabbed her elbow and they, along with Jeyne began to leave the crowded backstage area. "Bye ladies," Gendry called out to them, Arya shooting a grimace over her shoulder at the word 'ladies.'
This is my first go at an on-going chapter story, and this was written between the hours of 12am and 2am.
I would love to hear what people think of it, whether it's complete rubbish, or something that you wouldn't mind continuing. Reviews are definitely recommended.
Obviously GRRM owns Westeros, and all it's lovely inhabitants.