And A Hound
Sansa watched her sister as Arya made her way down the steps to the courtyard. There was a spring to her walk, and the slight smile she wore, constantly for the last week Sansa thought to herself, bespoke of an inner happiness that she was only slightly jealous of. Arya had made not a single attempt to hide her liaison with the young Baratheon, they sat close together at meals, she was with him practically any time he wasn't in the smithy, and the staff reported that his room had not been used.
It was good, Sansa had decided, that Gendry was so far from her type. She liked him, and she found him polite and a gentleman to her sister, but he was much too broody. Almost as broody as her perpetually frowning brother. He was fit, and Sansa didn't miss the unmistakable gazes her sister laid upon her paramour. Any woman would recognized that hungry look, and she understood why, but Sansa preferred men with culture and style. Gendry had never been exposed to those kinds of influences, and so he remained ignorant of them.
Sansa wasn't angry, far from it, she was quite happy that Arya had found Gendry again. But propriety, and Jon, had demanded she speak to her sister. Sansa was just trying to figure out how and when. Midmorning was training time for Arya and the feisty Lady Mormont, consequently Lady Brienne and Lady Lyanna were waiting in the courtyard as Arya descended the steps.
"Good morning, My Lady," Brienne said with a smile.
Arya smiled back. "I'm not a Lady."
"Neither am I," Lyanna Mormont said with her ever-present fierceness.
Arya smiled at her new friend and partner. So much like her five years prior. "Well, since there are no ladies here," she said. "Let's fucking get on with it."
The three laughed and Brienne began her training routine. First she instructed Arya and Lyanna to do the stretching and limbering movements she had taught them. Then she passed them the wooden training swords and ran them through parries and reposts. After they had warmed their muscles and limbered their minds, Brienne coached Lyanna as she spared with Arya. Sansa had grown to love watching her sister dance.
She wasn't alone. After the first few days an audience had begun to form on the walls and balconies of the courtyard to watch the three female fighters train. They were there now, many of them in the same place they took every day. As the tempo of the fight increased they leaned forward and watched intently.
Arya would purposefully slow herself during the first few bouts with Lyanna, allowing the younger girl to score a few hits. Then she would gradually increase her skills and speed, challenging Lyanna to keep up, and that was when the dance began.
"Watch what I intend, not what you think I'm doing," Arya said loudly after ten minutes had passed. She stutter stepped forward and swung at Lyanna. The girl blocked the sword and swept it aside.
"Very good," Brienne praised. "Always follow with an attack if you're able."
Arya backed away and attacked again with a forward thrust. Lyanna moved forward to parry the thrust, and Arya twirled to her left and brought her sword around to take the younger girls legs, but they weren't there. Just as she had trained on Bear Island to hop over sail spars slamming together on a deck, so she had jumped straight up and let Arya's sword sweep under her.
"Excellent," Brienne called.
Arya dropped and rolled to her side as Lyanna's sword swung past her ear. "Almost," she said with a smile, and she hopped back to her feet.
Lyanna pressed the attack as Brienne had taught her. Never relent, never give your opponent time, and once you have the advantage never give it back, Brienne's voice said in her head. Lyanna jumped forward and thrusted. Arya partied and twirled once more to bring her sword down on Lyanna's head. And again, she wasn't there. Taking a page from her older counterpart, Lyanna had dropped and rolled away from Arya only to spring back to her feet and continue to press the attack.
"Yes!" Arya sang out as she parried another thrust. "Don't stop, keep at me!" Thrust and sweep, sweep and thrust, Lyanna brought the fight to her, inexorably, driving Arya back toward the courtyard wall. Sensing the wall behind her, Arya noticed a barrel against it on her right. She jumped backward and then up onto the barrel as Lyanna pressed forward. Jumping off the barrel she essentially tackled the younger girl.
With surprising strength, Lyanna shoved Arya off her with her legs. As she was flying backwards Arya laughed. Her laughter turned to startled admiration when, after landing and regaining her feet, a clod of snow hit her in the face followed by the point of the wooden sword impacting her chest.
A smattering of applause and cheers sounded in the courtyard as a group of men on the battlements from Bear Island took pride in their Lady.
"Where did you learn that?" Brienne asked Lyanna, who wore a rare smile.
The lady of Bear Island tilted her head toward a figure on the ramparts. Brienne turned and looked where Lyanna was indicating. Sandor Clegane stood leaning against a parapet wall casually eating some dried fruit. Brienne smiled and exchanged a look of admiration with him.
"Never fight fair when you fight for your life," Lyanna quoted. "That's what he told Me." she showed them her stern face again. "I think he's right."
Arya nodded as Brienne looked from her student back at the man on the castle walls. "He is," Arya said, and then she nodded to herself. There was something she had been avoiding that she now knew she had to do.
(*)
"Well, Wolf Girl," Sandor Clegane said to the young woman that stopped a few feet from him. "Took you long enough to come find me."
He was smiling, an unusual thing for The Hound to do in her experience, but that usually meant he was genuinely happy. She closed the distance between them and hugged him firmly. "Thank you," she said and hugged him harder. "I'm so happy you're alive."
"Off your list, am I?" he said with a smile in his voice, and he hugged her back just as hard.
She nodded against his chest. "Have been for a long time." She looked up at him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry I left you. That was cruel, and I shouldn't have done it." There, she had given the apology that had haunted her for a few years.
"Don't trouble yourself, Wolf Girl," he said. "Worked out for the best. I wouldn't have met your brother otherwise."
"You protected me, saved me over and over, taught me," Arya said, shame still coloring her voice. "And I repaid you by leaving you to die."
He took hold of her shoulders and made her look up at him. "But I didn't die, Arya," he said. She couldn't remember him ever using her actual name before. "I was saved by some friends." His face became hard. "And then I learned some about you, Wolf Girl, about revenge." He drew her into a much tenderer hug. "You're forgiven."
(*)
"There you are," Sandor Clegane said as he entered the smithy. "Young Lord Baratheon."
Gendry looked sideways at his companion beyond the wall. "'M not a lord," he said.
"Actually you're a prince," Clegane said and laughed. "But your title's not why I'm here."
Gendry looked up from the bench where he was melding shards of dragon glass to steel arrow tips. "Need your armor mended?" he asked.
"No, nothing like that," The Hound replied with a smirk. "Come to talk about the Lady Wolf Girl."
Gendry became wary. "What business is it of yours?" he asked.
"I'm one of her protectors, so they sent me," Clegane said. "Don't worry, I'm not here to cut your balls off." He looked Gendry in the eyes. "Unless you hurt her."
A chill went down Gendry's spine. That Clegane would cut his balls off if he hurt Arya was in no doubt. Late in the evening, after dinner, bathing, other things, they would lay in her bed and talk. She had told him as much as he wanted to know about her travels after the Brotherhood. Clegane had turned from kidnapper to protector in just a few days. He'd taught her, shielded her, and he had nurtured Arya's hunger for revenge. When they had met Brienne and Payne, and he had been wounded, she had left him to die. Only yesterday had she found him to apologize, and Gendry could tell, as she relayed the story with her head laid on his bare chest, that a great weight had been lifted from her with the Mia Culpa.
"I have a feeling you'd be third or fourth in line," Gendry said with a smirk. "She'd be first, Brienne, the King, then maybe you."
Sandor chuckled. "Don't let it come to that, lad," he said. "She may not act like a princess, but she is, and that makes her very important in the big game."
Gendry looked at him puzzled. "She's not a princess," he said.
Clegane snorted. "Her brother's a king," he said. "Makes her a princess. I knew you father well, you look just like him by the way. He was king, and that makes you a prince."
"I don't want to be a prince," Gendry said sullenly.
"I'm betting she doesn't want to be a princess either," Clegane said chuckling. "Tough shite for the both of you." Sandor looked the young man in the eyes. "You're the last of King Robert's line, the last Baratheon. You should be heir to all his lands and titles." He turned to leave. "And you even have a claim to the Iron Throne."
Gendry's blood ran cold. "No!" he said forcefully and shook his head. "No, I don't want that."
Sandor turned back to him. "Good."
(*)
"My… Arya," Brienne said as they walked from the courtyard. "Can we talk for a moment?"
Arya looked to her side. "Of course," she said.
Brienne led her to an unused horse stall they were passing. She leaned on the rail and composed her thoughts. "I'm not the best one to speak on this subject…"
"But?" Arya prompted.
"But they chose me," Brienne said with a grin. She cleared her throat and turned to Arya. "It has not escaped your brother and sister's notice that you and Gendry Baratheon are… very close these days."
Arya smiled. "Sansa jealous?"
Brienne shook her head. "Not at all," she said. "In point of fact, she's very happy for you. The King and Lady Sansa are just concerned for your welfare." Brienne sniggered. "And they want to make sure you adhere to some standards of decorum."
"What?" Arya said, annoyed. "Do they think they'll find us fucking in a hallway?"
Brienne contemplated. "Yes," she said with a grin. "Among other places."
Brienne saw the fire in her young friend's eyes. "He's the best thing to ever happen to me, Brienne," Arya said with heat. "I won't give him up!"
"They don't want you to," Brienne said firmly. "And they are comfortable with how you and Lord Baratheon are conducting yourselves, but they are somewhat concerned that you might push the bounds of propriety beyond what the northern lords would accept without compliant."
"Are they afraid I'll corrupt Lyanna?" Arya asked, spite coloring her voice.
"I think it's far too late for that," Brienne said with a smile. "Lady Mormont idolizes you." Brienne put her hand on Arya's shoulder. "Arya, your brother and sister love you, and they want to make sure you are happy. That's all. They sent me because they were afraid of your reaction." She chuckled. "Rightfully so it seems. You do know the whole of Winterfell is abuzz with gossip about you and your prince."
"I was ignoring it," Arya said in a huff.
"Continue to do so," Brienne told her. "It will die off as you become less interesting."
Arya looked up at her. "That's unlikely," she said.
(*)
"Who's coming this time?" Gendry asked from Arya's side.
"The Lannisters," Arya said. "Sansa told me her 'husband' is among them."
"The Imp?" Gendry asked.
"Yes," Arya replied. "And don't call him that. He hates it."
Gendry nodded. "I know," he said. "I've met him."
"Sansa tells me he's actually the most gentlemanly Lord she's met," Arya said, looking at his hand clasped in hers.
Gendry smiled down at her. "Should I be offended?"
Arya's smile was wicked as she looked at him and said, "I like my lord less gentlemanly."
Jamie Lannister was first through the gates, followed by his brother, and then a small host of gold cloaked knights. The King in the North strode to Jamie's horse to greet him as he dismounted. "Welcome to Winterfell, my Lord," he said and shook Jamie's true hand with his left. "We have gathered wood for your fires. You'll find it stacked in the fields to the south. Tell your banner men to help themselves to what they need." He sniggered. "We northerners are used to the cold, but I'm thinking yours are complaining by now."
Jamie smiled. "They are," he said. "How is the forging going?"
Jon clapped him on the shoulder. "It's going well," he said. "Come on. I'll show you." He led Jamie to Gendry and Arya. "Jamie Lanister, this is my sister Arya and her… friend, Gendry Baratheon."
Jamie looked surprised, "Baratheon?"
"Yes, my lord," Gendry replied. "'M King Robert's bastard."
Jamie laughed. "One of many," he said, and he put his hand on Gendry's shoulder. "Only one to survive my sister though. Glad you did."
Arya appraised the man before her. He certainly was the handsome man she had been told he was, but Gendry was even more so, at least to her. Then, as she looked around the courtyard, she noticed the way Brienne looked at the latest arrival. OH! she thought. So this is the one that captured the heart of Brienne of Tarth. She smiled to herself and looked back to her own love.
"Gendry's our best smith, so he's leading the forging of the weapons," Jon told Jamie. "Come to the smithy, and we'll show you what we've done."
As Jon, Jamie, Gendry, and Arya left the courtyard Tyrion Lannister approached Lady Sansa. "My Lady, it's good to find you well," Tyrion said as he kissed her hand.
Sansa smiled, she really was genuinely happy to see him. "My lord," she said as she curtsied. "It's good to be found well, and I am also pleased to see you again." He was dressed as a Hand, down to the broach on his shoulder. "You are Hand of the Queen?"
"Of Queen Daenerys, yes," Tyrion said.
Sansa smiled broadly. "Come, my lord," she said. "I think there's wine to be had in my chambers, and you can tell me of your adventures after the Purple Wedding." She looked far away, over the castle walls. "I understand that's what they call it now."
"Yes, they do," Tyrion said. "Wine?"
Sansa took his hand. "Yes," she said with a smile as she led him away.
(*)
"My Lord?" Podrick Payne asked.
"'M not a lord," Gendry muttered as he sorted shards of dragon glass on the bench of the smithy.
Podrick shrugged. "What would you prefer?"
"My Name's Gendry," he said.
Podrick nodded. "Podrick Payne," he said and held out his hand. "Most people call me Pod."
"Good to meet you," Gendry said. "Your Brienne's squire, yeah?"
"Yes," Pod said. "And before that I served Lord Tyrion."
"I like him," Gendry said.
"Me too," Pod said. "And he likes you, which is why I'm here." Pod sat on a stool next to the bench. "Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa have spent a lot of time in conversation since his arrival yesterday."
"What's that got to do with me?" Gendry asked.
"They spoke of your… companionship with Lady Arya."
Gendry turned slowly, dangerously to Podrick. "And?" he said low and rough.
Pod smiled. "Lord Tyrion has a special gift for you," he said.
Gendry looked at him silently.
Pod chuckled. "The gift is me," he said. "Or more correctly, my advice."
(*)
Gods! Arya thought. What in the seven hells was that? She struggled to catch her breath, and the room refused to focus. It had been good, very good, with Gendry. She had been prepared for pain, and there had been a little the first time, Gendry was a large man after all, but once it had faded that first time it had been wonderful. Tonight though, tonight was indescribable, and they hadn't even done… that yet. "Wha... How?" she managed between breaths.
Gendry chuckled, and he wiped the sweat and other moisture from his face on a blanket as he crawled up her body and gathered her in his arms. "Pod told me a few things about women," he said.
"Brienne never said anything about him knowing… all that," she panted.
"Don't think she knows," Gendry said. "I asked Pod the same thing, and he said she's… untouched."
Arya had recovered enough to laugh a little. "Jamie Lannister could touch her if he wanted."
"Yeah," Gendry agreed. "Pod said that too."
Arya looked at him, the fire burning hotter than ever. "Gendry," she said, and she rolled him onto his back to straddle him. "Touch me."
