Making her way up to her family's chambers, Arya found herself groaning at the ache she felt all over. She was feeling parts of her body she never even knew existed as sharp, horribly unpleasant sensations tore through her overused limbs and punished muscles. Her legs were sore beyond belief, and every time she coughed or sneezed she found herself hunched over clutching at her abdomen as her insides throbbed painfully.
By the time she finally arrived at her destination she was dragging her feet and cursing Gendry in her head. He did try to warn her what her zealousness would mean for her body come the morning, but she hadn't believed him. Regardless, she still considered it his fault because he never saw fit to actually stop her, or control his own arousal for that matter. Never mind that she made both tasks particularly impossible for him.
Arya must've looked miserable in her pain when she opened the door to her family's chambers because when they turned to greet her their faces twisted into various expressions of pity at first glance. Well everyone except Theon of course, as he just smirked like the prat he was, and young Rickon, who was too busy flinging his eggs at Bran to bother with the appearance of another person.
Arya looked up and halted her progress into the room, blinking in confusion at their reception of her. Their collective thoughts were made clear to her as her mother let out a strangled exclamation and hurried over.
"Arya!" She called out remorsefully, quickly moving to embrace her youngest daughter. She grasped either of her cheeks and searched her eyes. "Was he not gentle? Did you resist him?" Catelyn asked in quick succession as her family listened intently behind her.
Arya flushed slightly in embarrassment but it was quickly overwhelmed by a surge of anger. She slapped her mother's hands away glowering. "What does it matter?" She snapped tetchily. What right did any of her family have to act concerned and ask such questions after they'd put her in this situation?
None of it was Gendry's fault, so she didn't know why her mother thought to blame him. He had in fact been gentle at first, at least gentler than Arya had been to herself, but then she had asked him for more and he had undoubtedly, and marvelously, acquiesced. Still, regardless of whether it had been magnificent, they were both just doing their duties, nothing more. Neither of them had wanted this marriage. If this whole debacle was anyone's fault it was their families', and they had yet to provide a reason for it. So really, what did her mother care if she was hurt? She wasn't letting her get away thinking she wasn't culpable for her condition.
Arya narrowed her eyes at her mother fuming. "You certainly didn't seem concerned about how he'd treat me when you saw fit to give me away!" She continued to seethe. "It's not as if you didn't know what was going to happen!"
Her mother took a step back from her, eyes hurt and glossing slightly. "I didn't want this for you." She murmured breathlessly into the silent room.
She met her mother's gaze, a defiant frown gracing her features. Arya's hard steel eyes flashed angrily, focused on deep blue ones. "Neither did I." She stated pitilessly.
She heard a seat scrape back and then a solemn voice. "That's enough." Her father told her gruffly.
Arya glanced at her father's rigid expression then sullenly shoved past her mother, intentionally letting their shoulders meet and putting her strength behind it. She felt a slight bit of satisfaction as her Lady mother was forced to take a step back, but all that was erased as she plopped down into her seat rather roughly and yelped as a jolt of pain darted up through her middle on contact. She blushed crimson and grit her teeth, squirming and trying to find a comfortable position. She never did, and when she looked up to the table it was to find her father grimacing uncomfortably and working his jaw while everyone else shot her consolatory looks clearly having deduced the reason for her hurt. She scowled at their sympathy and dumped some eggs onto her plate, childishly spearing them with her fork before bringing them to her mouth. She despised that they were all looking at her as fragile.
Her father seemed to be having the most trouble coming to terms with the condition in which he found his youngest daughter. He was standing hunched over and battling his own guilt, eyes alternating between leashed outrage and forced acceptance as he worked his jaw. He was just about to retake his seat when Septa Mordane came bustling through the door looking as if she had seen the Others.
Pale faced and distraught, the graying woman strode quickly over to Ned who listened intently as she whispered something frantically for his consideration only. Everyone in the room strained to catch the words of the familiar intruder as she disrupted their family breakfast, but their efforts were fruitless. Nevertheless, watching Ned's recently restored stoic disposition crumble into an expression of anguished, shocked grief, they gleaned enough. Something was well and truly wrong.
Ned looked to his wife. "Come Catelyn." He rumbled a bit hoarsely. She wasted no time in getting to her feet and rushing to her husband's side, questioning worriedly what was wrong. Her father however was still busy giving the Septa direction. "Find Jon and tell him to come here at once and tell our men to take up watch outside these chambers. Send word to Winterfell as soon as you can." With that he was towing his wife behind him and leaving his children to protest in his wake. He turned back only briefly. "Robb, keep your brothers and sisters here and all but Stark bannermen from this room. Have Bran stay with Rickon in his chambers to keep him calm while your mother is away." With no offer of explanation besides their father's direction, all of the Stark children were left to stare at the door wondering whether or not they should be afraid.
Robb moved to usher Bran and Rickon away, but Bran had already moved to do so himself realizing gravity of the situation. Once the youngest Stark boys were safely tucked within their rooms, silence dominated until they heard someone at the door, and even then their noise wasn't words, it was a collective in take of breaths. Robb and Theon marched forward unsheathing swords halfway until they all sighed in relief finding it was only Jon.
"What's happened?" He asked looking just as confused as they all were.
Robb eased his sword back into its scabbard and shook his head grimly. "I hoped you could tell us." He grimaced.
Just then Jon laid eyes on Arya and he closed the distance between them, drawing her into his arms. He'd only had her in his embrace for a moment before he quickly pulled away and held her at arms length inspecting to see if she was all right. "Did he hurt you? Did anyone hurt you?" He asked fretfully, though there was an edge to his voice that promised pain if someone had.
Arya rolled her eyes. "Seven Hells! I'm fine!" She stated stamping her foot for emphasis. She was beginning to come under the impression that they all thought her weak.
All heads whipped to the side hearing a incredulous snort. It was Theon, and apparently he didn't believe she was fine. In fact, he completely ignored her proclamation and chose to answer Jon's initial question. "Oh he's done more than hurt her Snow. He's made it so she can't even sit down without writhing in bloody pain." He chuckled derisively turning to Arya. "I didn't think the bastard had it in him. I can't imagine you enjoyed having your maidenhead taken from you so roughly." He smirked.
Jon took a step towards him, his eyes dark, just as Arya whirled around scowling.
"He didn't take my maidenhead!" She shouted at him fiercely before she really had time to think about what she was saying.
Everyone froze in silence, forgetting Theon's harsh words and instead focusing on the significance of hers. They all turned to look at her questioningly, appearing utterly perplexed.
Robb approached her cautiously. "What are you saying Arya? Can the marriage still be questioned?"
Arya huffed in irritation finding she regret her outburst. "Well no." She began fidgeting.
Theon interrupted her when it was clear she was reluctant to continue. "The marriage is legitimate and yet he hasn't taken your maidenhead." He stated flatly, clearly disbelieving the contradictory statement.
She grimaced and looked away. "No he hasn't." She told them shrugging. It wasn't as if she was exactly lying, but now that she'd made her ridiculous claim she wasn't going to be thought a fool. "Not precisely, anyways." She clarified scuffing her shoes and feeling a blush bloom in her cheeks. She really didn't want to explain what she meant to her brothers. Besides that, she knew Theon would give her grief if she did.
She looked to Jon pleading him with her eyes to make everyone drop the subject but he too looked confused and as if he wanted an explanation, though she noticed his eyes still had a dark cast to them. She even chanced a glance at Sansa, thinking she might object to this line of questioning considering the crudeness of such talk, but she just looked thoroughly bewildered.
Robb furrowed his brow. "I don't understand. What do you mean 'not precisely'?"
Arya rolled her eyes even though she was feeling highly discomfited by this line of conversation. "I mean." She began slowly, clearly annoyed, "I took it myself."
She thought maybe they'd catch on to her meaning, but when everyone just furrowed their brows quizzically and stared at her incredulous, she huffed knowing it wasn't good enough of an explanation. Her eyes scanned the ground as if the stone would tell her what to say so she didn't stick her foot in her mouth again. "The stupid bull felt guilty so I did it myself…by, you know... kneeling over him." She described it as best she could without going into detail.
The eyes of all three of the older boys widened in stunned comprehension while Arya stared at the ground and Sansa looked between them confused. The older Stark girl glowered at being kept out of the loop. "What do you mean kneeling? Weren't you supposed to be lying together?" Sansa asked, the usual belittling bite back in her tone.
Jon ignored her red headed half-sisters ignorant question and came at Arya with one of his own, the hardness lifting from his eyes. "If you came to him willingly," He began looking as if he was on the edge of figuring something out. "Why are you sore to the point that you can't sit comfortably?" He inquired meeting her eyes finally.
Arya quickly moved her gaze to the ground turning scarlet, and realization consequently flooded through Robb, Theon, and Jon upon observation of her abashed behavior. They now grasped that she was at fault for her own pain considering her silent admission to fucking Gendry until she couldn't walk straight. In reaction to their comprehension Jon stumbled back a step wide eyed and stunned as Robb exclaimed "Seven Hells" running a hand through his locks and Theon sniggered in derisive glee.
Sansa frowned, inappreciative at the being left to guess why they were all so staggered. "What are you all going on about?" She asked peevishly.
Everyone suddenly remembered her presence but only glanced in her direction, it was Theon who finally decided to enlighten her. "We're going on about the fact that your sister's apparently an eager little wench." He laughed mockingly before turning back to Arya. "Tell me Arya, which do you like riding better, your horse or your husband? Or can you even tell the difference?"
Theon was standing on the other side of the chamber and across the table from her, but not even the distance or her sore muscles were enough of a deterrent to stop her from launching herself at him. She leapt onto a nearby chair and vaulted herself over the table, flying through the air and tackling a shocked Theon.
He grunted from the force of the impact, but caught her as he fell to the ground and rolled her over pinning her hands above her head.
"Eager to be on your back, are you?" He sneered from on top of her while she struggled underneath him. He leaned forward and lowered his voice so no one could hear. "Didn't you say were on your knees? Did you get a taste of his cock as well?"
She wasted no time in maneuvering a knee up into his groin and delighted in seeing his eyes roll back in his head and the feel of his grip on her weaken as he rolled off of her in agony. She wasted no time in essentially reversing their positions and straddling him, knees on either one of his shoulders to pin him there as she began wailing on him, bringing fist after fist to his face.
She could hear the shrieks of Sansa and the yells of Robb, but it wasn't until he picked her up and peeled her off that she stopped her assault, though she yelled at him to put her down so she could continue. Robb eventually did place her back on her feet but then he rounded on her furiously.
"Have you taken leave of your senses!" He bellowed at her.
Arya whirled on him eyes flashing, rage flooding through her thinking on the circumstances that had been forced on her since leaving Winterfell. "Have I taken leave of my senses?" She questioned him belligerently. "Ask yourself that Robb! You're the one who took leave of your sense last night!" Her expression twisted painfully as all her suppressed feelings bubbled to the surface. "How could you just leave me at their mercy? Both of you!" She spun to include Jon. "Were you so concerned with the knife I had at Theon's neck that you couldn't see how scared I was! Or did you just not care?" She yelled at them, happy to see both of them flinch at her words. "Seven Hells! Why didn't you just pick me up and carry me yourselves? Or punch Theon in the face for that matter? He wasn't the one who needed you!" She pushed Robb as hard as she could in frustration. "I needed you. Was I supposed to fight my way through a hall full of drunken men as they tore off my clothes and mother screamed at me to stop?" She pushed Jon now. "How could you leave me no choice but to let them strip me bare, to stand their naked for all eyes to see! You were going to let them grope me either way, so the only thing I could think to do was not give them to have the satisfaction of disrobing me as well!" She explained incensed. "At least Gendry gave me his cloak! That's more than I can say for my own brothers! My own blood!" She fumed finding that her eyes were much more watery than she would have liked. "When did you stop caring about me?" She shouted at them losing her last bits of composure. "When did you all stop caring about me?"
"Arya—" Jon tried softly taking a step towards her.
She shook her head. "No Jon!" She looked around the room at all of her siblings finding them all looking at her apologetically. She couldn't take it. "Did I do something wrong?" She desperately wished she had, at least then maybe she could understand it. "Have you ever known me to take exception to being treated like that? Did I do something that would give you cause to stand by and condone such treatment? To see me so belittled and not come to my aid?"
Jon took another step towards her, looking pained and beseeching her to understand with his remorseful eyes. "I desperately wanted to put a stop to it Arya, you must believe that. Lady Stark only let me come on the promise I wouldn't make myself noticed."
Arya scowled at him though she did admit that sounded like her mother. She let him know with her eyes that she thought his was a shit excuse as she turned to Robb. "Do you have a justification as well?" She spat acerbically.
Robb grit his teeth and looked to the ground. He was waging an inner battle and appeared a bit ashamed at himself. Still, eventually he steadied his jaw resolving himself. When he met her eye he looked every bit the unrelenting Lord he'd eventually have to become. "It is tradition Ayra." He asserted gently though it didn't seem like he particularly liked what he was saying. "We aren't above it, and we can't be thought contemptuous of it. You held a blade to Theon's throat, I didn't want there to be any more cause for incident less someone take offense." He tried explaining before softening. "Our idleness doesn't mean we love you any less. You are still our sister, Arya. You are still a Stark." He told her hoping to bring her comfort. It didn't work.
Arya laughed bitterly and felt the tears finally fall. "I would gladly die for you and you're worried about drawing offense and causing bloody incident! Damn your tradition Robb and damn it if the Southroners aren't contemptuous of us already!" She seethed sadly before turning on her heel and heading for the door. She turned back with one foot in the corridor, "And you're wrong about another thing." She told him waspishly. "My surname is now Baratheon, not Stark." She spat, still disgusted with the fact and glaring through angry tears at the heart wrenching expressions of her siblings. It gave her little comfort to know she wasn't the only one with a dismayed awareness of her new name. She'd been struggling to come to terms with it since her father wrapped the maidenscloak around her shoulders. Now so were they.
No one tried to stop her as she left, although she did hear Sansa calling for her weakly in what wasn't a disparaging tone for once. It was all too much. She was glad no one came after her to see her tears and counted it a good thing considering the fact that she would've fought them tooth and nail had they tried to force her to stay.
She marched angrily straight past her father's men who seemed at a loss of what to do although one did end up tailing her. She went straight to her rooms and withdrew Needle from her belongings and began slicing at everything in sight.
It wasn't until hours later when Gendry returned to find her sitting atop their bed in a pile of feathers, hay, and torn linens that she was no longer alone. He was covered in sweat and soot and appeared tired, however he took one look at her and halted his progress into the room a bit startled, everything was torn apart. She abashedly turned her gaze away, embarrassed at what she had done in her wrath and that he had to see it. He on the other hand didn't much care except that it was clear to him something was wrong.
Gendry turned back for the door. "I'll find your brother Jon." He told her thinking that was who she would wish to speak to.
Suddenly Arya was off the bed. "No!" She cried bounding to the floor and diving into the door, driving it closed just as he had been about to open it. "I don't want to see Jon." She grumbled crossly at the thought of her brother. She especially didn't want any of her family to see what she had done to their rooms.
He looked at her puzzled. "Why not? I thought you and Jon were close?"
Arya grimaced not really wanting to explain what had transpired and searched for something to say. She glanced up at him imploringly, a hopeful gleam in her eye as she tried to change the subject. "Let's go somewhere." She suggested. "Let's leave the city for the day." She wasn't too keen on spending so much time with him, she knew nothing about him, but she really could use a stint away from the Red Keep and she didn't want to be alone. Besides the fact that she'd only been there two days, she'd already come to abhor the stink of so many hot bodies confined to such a small area and he'd surely be more familiar with the these lands than she was.
Gendry looked bewildered. "Where would you have us go?" He had no idea where this all was coming from or what had brought it on.
Arya shook her head then shrugged. "The Kingswood? We don't have to tell anyone." She pleaded. "We can return tomorrow."
He looked at her sideways. "Arya I don't think it wise to leave the city over night. Wouldn't your family worry?"
She looked away and scowled at the mention of her kin. "It's not as if they care what happens to me." Then she looked at him, her grey eyes mercurial. "You're my family now are you not?" She nodded as if to say that was that.
His eyes softened at her statement but he couldn't help but sigh. She had clearly had a disagreement with her loved ones, and while he didn't feel it was his place to interfere, he couldn't help but want to. He'd never had a true family considering it was only when his mother had been on her deathbed that she saw fit to tell him he was the King's Bastard. She told him she'd written to Jon Arryn, her uncle, and appealed to him to take care of the son she was leaving behind. He'd never known his mother came from a highborn family until he was nearly ten and two, and even after he was taken in by the King and the Hand he had only ever felt like a burden. The Queen's callous attitude certainly hadn't helped. Arya didn't understand how lucky she was to have a family that was so clearly devoted to one another.
"I am." He agreed with her statement finding he liked the thought. Then something else occurred to him. "We may now use the name Baratheon, but it's new to us both. Don't fool yourself into thinking you won't always be a Stark. I will certainly always be the Water's Bastard." There was no way anyone would ever look at him as anything but. He'd come to terms with it long ago. "Your family loves you Arya, their only wish is for your happiness." He told her gently.
She pouted petulantly and looked away blinking. "Then why did they see fit to give me away?" She questioned her voice wavering.
Gendry grimaced but shook his head. "I don't know." He told her honestly, feeling his own insecurities rise to the surface. "Why did my father suddenly see fit to legitimize me?" He shook his head trying to make sense of it all, none of it did. "There's no logic to any of it. Especially, them finding me a match for a High Born Lady." He was looking off into the distance trying to puzzle things out and wasn't expecting her to respond.
Arya shrugged at his question. "Better you than that golden haired Lannister shit Joffery." She repeated what Jon said to her yesterday feeling it appropriate.
Gendry snorted at her statement and chuckled. His half-brother really was a grimy little bugger. He was glad he wasn't the only one who thought so. He had a hard time even considering the boy his relative at all. They were so different and looked nothing alike. He was all Lannister as far as Gendry could tell.
Looking at his new wife's still forlorn expression, he suddenly changed his mind. Something was clearly bothering Arya and she wanted nothing more than to get her mind off of it. They wouldn't have any furniture left if she didn't get out of this room shortly. "If we're going to leave the city best we get a move on before we have no light. It's a long ride to the Kingswood." He told her holding back a small smile.
Her head whipped up to his searching his face to make sure he was serious. When she was satisfied he wasn't jesting with her she turned around and began scrambling to grab her things. Gendry just shook his head and did the same and before long they were ready to head off.
There was of course the little matter of getting past the Stark bannermen posted outside their rooms, but that was solved when Nymeria chased them off after they reached the stable yard. Still, it was quite obvious that they were leaving, what with their stop to the kitchens to gather food, and Arya and Gendry both strapped to the teeth with knives and supplies, Gendry carrying his massive warhammer and Arya Needle and her bow. It was only a matter of time before her family knew they'd wandered off. That just meant they had to be quick about leaving and making camp for the night, which they were. Although Gendry couldn't help but notice they were slow on horseback considering she couldn't sit a saddle very well. He blushed once he came to the conclusion that it was because of him and felt guilty once more.
Night was falling quick when he led them off the Kingsroad and into the forest towards where he knew there was a hot springs nearby. He figured it might bring her a bit of solace and remind her of Winterfell and he wasn't wrong. She delighted to see steam rising up off the ground and he thought he saw her eyes water a bit though he didn't move to comfort her. He didn't think she'd appreciate it nor did he feel like it was his place.
They were silent as they set up camp, her wandering off in the woods and then coming back with kindling and wood, making a fire faster than he'd ever seen anyone accomplish the feat in his life. He unpacked and unsaddled the horses, tying them up before bringing furs next to the fire and resting his hammer within arms length of them.
Arya had wandered off again by the time Gendry was getting a bit hungry so he withdrew the bundle of food they'd manage to grab before setting off. He was cutting vegetables with his belt knife and throwing them into a soup pot when she came back carrying two rabbits, Nymeria holding a third in her jaws. He grinned to himself, shaking his head but not saying a word, thinking about how much better of a woodsman she made than him. He put the sausage he'd been planning to throw in off to the side for their morning meal.
Together they worked in silence, him slicing vegetables and her skinning and butchering the two rabbits, throwing the organs and innards to Nymeria and cleaning the bones of good meat to throw in the pot. He was done before she was and went to scoop water out of the springs for broth using his helmet. Soon after she added some wild herbs she'd come across and then threw the carcasses into the soup and explained it would bring flavor and that they'd take them out later before they ate. Together they waited for the soup to simmer and boil, happy to listen to the sounds of the forest alive around them.
She was cleaning the furs of the rabbits she skinned when the silence was finally broken. She didn't look up from her work as she spoke.
"Are you any good with that hammer?" She asked boldly, there almost seemed a challenge behind her words.
Gendry lifted an eyebrow but shrugged. "I suppose so." He told her before explaining, "The King says I'm better than he was, though I think he just fancies that he is looking at himself when he watches me. It's a bit unsettling to be honest. It's the only time he really ever takes interest." He nabbed a piece of carrot for himself and chomped on it thoughtfully. "I much prefer my smiths hammer if you must know. I like the harsh jolt that metal runs up my arm rather than the give of flesh and bone." He explained, hefting the humungous hammer easily in one hand and testing its weight while examining it. When he looked up Arya was scrutinizing him solicitously. "What?" He asked.
She shook her head dismissing the thought. "It's nothing." She told him before she went back to distracting herself with the furs. A mischievous glint came into her eyes then. "Do you think you could best me with that hammer?" She asked.
He was a bit caught off guard by the question but sized her up thinking he was probably two times her size if not more. Finally he came to an answer. "I would if you use that blade you seem to like so much." He told her referring to Needle. "You've outgrown it." He informed her plainly.
She scowled at him and abruptly stood up, bringing her prized sword out challengingly. "Shall we find out if your confidence is misplaced?"
Gendry stayed seated and went to protest, but when he opened his mouth to do so she brought the point of her blade to his throat drawing a bit of blood in warning.
"I would grab your hammer if I were you." She told him coolly.
Gendry scowled unhappily but eventually did as told, rising up off the ground with his hammer in his grasp to stand facing his new wife.
She squared off facing him as he took a defensive pose. Before he really had a chance to register what was happening she was coming at him blindingly fast, all fluid movements and graceful thrusts, harrying him seemingly from all sides at once. Luckily he was controlled chaos, his hammer spinning and thrusting and swiping her blows away easily, keeping her at a distance and causing her frustration to rise.
Jon hunched down in the saddle and rode like the wind, Ghost sprinting in front of him in much too precise a direction not to be following a trail. He was in the Kingswood now, and though he wasn't familiar with it, he was by nature comfortable in the forest. He'd find Arya soon enough and bring her back to King's Landing kicking and screaming if he had to.
He was completely of the mindset that she'd convinced Gendry to run off to Braavos like she'd always planned. They had discussed it and Robb was to go North towards Maidenpool while he would search south, riding all the way to Storm's End if need be. Those cities marked the two closest ports where they could find passage, other than King's Landing itself of course, though surely the Harbormaster would've recognized the King's Bastard and they had made a point to question him before running off in search.
Jon had resolved himself to the likelihood that he'd be riding through the night, thinking Arya wouldn't risk her escape to stop for sleep. He was quite shocked when Ghost turned off the road, moving inland into the forest on an almost indiscernible deer path. He thought it odd but from experience knew his wolf wasn't wrong.
Once he was out of sight of the road, he heeled his horse to a stop and tied it up to continue on foot as he would be faster and his mount wouldn't succumb to injury. He followed Ghost silently through the woods until the wolf halted completely and he could see light up ahead. He knew he was near, and if he knew Arya at all she'd have arranged a circumference of sticks and leaves about their camp to alert them of any type of prowler, just as she'd been taught.
He proceeded on, carefully placing each foot until he began hearing the sounds of metal on metal, the familiar clash of weapons. Then he was rushing headlong through the undergrowth noisily. He had his sword half unsheathed when he saw the small fire and two figures dancing in front of it, but it wasn't until he comprehended that one was a light footed female and the other a hulking beast of a man that he stopped in his tracks.
Jon was utterly confused when he realized that it was Gendry and Arya matching skills rather than fending off rough riding poachers and bandits, fighting for their lives like he'd assumed. He found himself sinking back into the depths of darkness amongst the trees to watch and observe, curiosity overtaking him. He didn't know how they hadn't heard his raucous approach, but they didn't, they appeared too enthralled in sparring and Jon was intrigued to see how it would end.
He knew Arya was no fool with a sword. She knew her way around a blade just as well as he did. One time out of every three she could best both him and Robb and she was getting better everyday. If she were given free reign over the weapons yard as they were, he was certain she'd be on a level with them. She had definitely taken to it easily enough. And yet here, matched against her husband, her skill seemed ineffective.
Last Jon remembered of the boy he sparred with in Winterfell was a clumsy fellow wielding a broadsword slothfully. He had easily been beaten and didn't seem all that interested in fighting. Now it appeared as if he had been doing it all his life. He was much more suited to the weapon he swung presently and he moved with a steady confidence that would be hard for anyone to outmatch. Blacksmith or warrior, he was clearly crafted to wield a hammer.
Jon couldn't help but think that what he was witnessing now was what his father was always referring to when he spoke of the King during the War, though Ned had always talked about the King possessing an unbridled fury in the way he handled his weapon. His son was much more controlled, although there was a smooth madness to his strength that made him hard to predict. He knew every inch of his weapon, no doubt because he crafted it himself, and every stroke, thrust and spin he aimed at Arya appeared as meticulous and precise as that of a Blacksmith fashioning his life's masterpiece, though with a feral might behind it that promised death.
He watched as his sister came at the large fellow again and again, as fast and as fluid as a snake striking out at its prey. He watched as she assaulted him over and over again from all sides, attempting to find a weak point in his defenses and exploit it as he moved his hammer deliberately, a stony look of concentration on his face. She never did find a fault in his form, and neither could Jon.
Where at first glance it might have appeared she had him on the defense, a closer look made Jon realize he wasn't even trying to be the aggressor. He was letting her work out her frustrations, careful not to hurt her. Arya must have recognized this too because she was becoming reckless in her charge as her frustration mounted taking insult. She was wildly assailing him, now hacking at him with barely any form at all, trying desperately to make it past his guard and clearly enraged that it wasn't going her way.
None of it worked, in fact it only seemed to humor him as a smirk lit up his face. Soon enough though, having had his fill of Arya's savage assault after it turned even more vicious and frenzied, he finally decided to go on the offensive and it was like nothing Jon had ever witnessed before in his life.
His face hardened to steel and in three massive strides forward, he had Arya moving backwards and beaten. He thrust the shaft of his hammer forward after dodging one of her wild slashes and controlled the movement enough to prevent painful impact of his weapon into her gut as he saw her drift back like he intended. Immediately following, Needle was knocked clean out of her grip and sent flying into the night as he spun the weighted head of his hammer around fluidly, only changing his grip ever so slightly making it hard to anticipate. Finally, she was forced back up against a tree as he swept the weapon above his head using its established momentum seamlessly. From there he brought it down with all his massive strength, driving it nearly two feet into the ground right in front of her with a resounding thud that Jon was certain they would feel back in King's Landing.
Arya and Jon were both left to marvel at the delicate deliberateness and startling power of his form. Arya looked absolutely staggered by what had just taken place as she stared at the man in front of her chest heaving and hair wild. She was looking at him as if it was the first time she'd truly seen him.
Gendry didn't look particularly self-satisfied with his show. He just stood there looking down on her impassively, making no comment about besting her, just letting his eyes bore into hers. His hammer was entrenched in the ground between them, seemingly having missed her as his mark, though Jon knew having witnessed his faculty that had Gendry wished to land a blow elsewhere, it would have landed true. He knew Arya realized this as well as she gazed up at his stoic form.
Before Jon really had time to comprehend the lust filled look in his sister's eyes, she had already flung herself at her husband who caught her easily and returned her vehement plea for kisses willingly as he crashed his lips against hers with a growl.
Jon wanted to look away, and he did briefly, but found he couldn't help that his gaze strayed and he found himself watching as Arya wrap her long legs around Gendry's massive middle as best she could while he held her up with one hand. He watched as the man's other reached out for the shaft of the hammer in front of him and pulled it out of the ground effortlessly, not bothering to pull away from Arya at all. It was too easy for him, it was as if the weapon hadn't been driven into the ground as deeply as a that of a sharpened sword having pierced through flesh. Jon watched in astonishment as Gendry hauled the weapon from the ground and hefted the hammer off to the side so he could walk forward and press Arya's back against the tree and smother her with his body.
Jon understood what was going to happen next. He knew what he'd be privy to if he stayed and he knew it was wrong to wish to see it. Swallowing thickly and gritting his teeth he turned to walk away, shame overwhelming him at his reluctance to do so. With every progressive stride he fiercely battled the desire to just remain hidden and watch them from the shadows. He knew Theon had spoken of spying on people in the brothels of Winterfell, but this was his sister. It was highly unsettling that his feet felt more and more like granite with every renewed step he took away from the firelight.
Appallingly, he halted his progress and stiffened upon hearing Arya's pleasure filled groan, finding the urge to linger too great as her noise surged forth into the silence of the night. His debauched body turned back rigidly of its own accord while he clenched his jaw and tried to combat the feeling of his disgraceful arousal, hoping he could stop this madness and run back to the Kingsroad and find his horse. He thought his enormous disgust with himself was all encompassing but learned differently when everything else was overwhelmed by a covetous thirst to see more. He couldn't force his legs to move, to leave; he was deprived of his capacities entirely.
He watched frozen and morally agonized as Gendry pushed Arya's legs off of him so she could stand. Once she found her footing, he turned her around crudely where he pushed her front back up against the tree, fiddling with the laces of her dress as he pressed kisses into her neck and she moaned, thrusting her ass back into breeches that were similarly strained to Jon's own.
Even from a distance Jon could tell that Gendry was becoming aggravated with the ties of her dress, and so was he considering it took so long that he vulgarly contemplated revealing himself to help assist. Eventually the blacksmith had it and then he was pushing fabric over slim shoulders and watching the dress fall to the ground along with her shift underneath it. Jon's breath hitched and he swallowed thickly, powerless to tear his eyes away while still finding his own anticipation utterly revolting.
Soon enough Arya was left in nothing but her smallclothes and Gendry just so happened to turn her back around again so Jon had a fine view of her perfect breasts. He just barely caught himself from falling to his knees in anguish, his gut wrenching horribly at the enormity of his wicked desires at the same time as his balls drew up sickeningly, his cock well and truly leaden. Gods she was beautiful, and how despicable was he for thinking it.
As her husband knelt down in front of her, making her step out of her final piece of clothing by pushing it over her hips, she simultaneously pulled the tunic over his head. Jon gulped at the sight of her completely exposed, his cock twitching traitorously just like last time.
Just like at the Bedding, Jon couldn't rip his eyes from her person, heedless of the nauseating feel in his abdomen telling him it was criminal. He was immobilized now, as well as incredibly immoral and exceedingly depraved. He hated himself for his thoughts, but she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and only more so because she was completely oblivious to it. Yes her body was flawless, and yes he could stare at her face forever and still wonder at the exact grey of her eyes, but she emanated a pure, ethereal exuberance that was absolutely intoxicating. Its what made her utterly irresistible as well as wholly unlike any of the other submissive Ladies of court. She oozed unbridled spirit on top of being utterly gorgeous. None of the men in Winterfell had been impervious to the noticeable changes in her physique and features, and it was as if all of them were drawn like moths to a flame. There was not a man among the townsfolk who hadn't spoke of desiring to lie with her.
Jon even knew Theon desired to bed her, as he always told him so to rile him up. He'd even caught the Ironborn stroking himself hard while whispering her name as he thrust into his hand and came messily all over himself. Though that time he'd given the intolerable prat a black eye and told him if he ever uttered his sister's name like that again he'd feed his shriveled prick to Ghost.
He wasn't even sure that Robb hadn't had indecent thoughts about Arya. He'd seen his brother gaping at their sister just as lecherously as he himself had been yesterday as she cut herself from her clothes. He flushed angrily thinking such dishonorable things about his brother, but he couldn't help but think it wasn't of his own imaginings. Suddenly it didn't seem so unnatural that he was painfully hard at the sight of his beloved sister, watching as her husband ravaged her. Everyone else seemed to be similarly effected. Maybe it was to be expected for him as well bearing in mind they'd always been close and he'd always been attracted to her fiery gumption. Besides, he didn't know many men who would walk away from such a show, though any type of justification only worked to make himself loathe his debased nature more.
As Arya let a hand stray to her magnificent breasts and began massaging them, her other hand threaded through the curls of Gendry's hair while his mouth and tongue worked her clit. Jon swallowed thickly and mournfully surrendered, fumbling repentantly at his laces craving shameful friction. He knew he'd never be able to forgive himself though he withdrew his leaking cock anyway. He thumbed at the tip as it throbbed in his grasp, tidal waves of shame washing over him like fire.
When Arya moaned and started writhing, shoving herself up and down on what he could only imagine were Gendry's fingers, Jon began to stroke himself battling his own appallingly revulsion. He grimaced, abysmally horrified at what he was doing but not finding the strength to halt, finding he craved release more. He used one calloused hand to prop himself up on the tree he was behind, and trembled cruelly as began with his nauseating pleasure.
Arya breathed Gendry's name continually and threw her head back when the blacksmith hit just the right spot, arching her back and thrusting her breasts out into the cool night air, her nipples painfully erect. Jon bowed his head fighting himself at the horrid wish he could take one of them into his mouth and tug her nipples in place of her own ravenous fingers. Blinking and trying unsuccessfully to separate his relation to the couple he was watching, he spit quietly into his hand desiring lubrication and began anew with his caresses. He drew out his strokes slowly, tugging at his shaft before curling and twisting his palm around his head, self-loathing making him bite his lip at his pleasure and causing him to guiltily look away from the glorious spectacle as he worked himself shamefully, though not for long.
Soon enough Arya was crying out marvelously, her keens boiling Jon's blood as she reached her climax and luring him back in for more torture. He had to look again. He almost felt his knees buckle when he did, though whether from enjoyment or the recognition of his depravity he couldn't be sure.
Jon watched, his expression twisting excruciatingly, as all of Arya's muscles tensed and her exquisite body trembled in ecstasy, face exultant and gratified, her lips a soft 'O' of desperation the instant before she finally found release. Then Gendry was there, standing up and blocking some of his view of her as he shoved his tongue into her mouth, allowing her a taste of herself. Jon wished he could have a taste. Gods how heinous was that! He felt his cheeks heating as he disgracefully pictured himself between his sister's legs, sucking on her clit then laving at the juices pouring out her wet cunt. He hated himself for it, berated himself in his own mind even, though none of it did anything to prevent his treacherous member from bobbing delightedly in his hand, urging him on in his debauchery. He stroked and watched and despised himself for loving the sight of Arya writhing in frenzied bliss.
Throughout their wet kiss, he could see Arya's hand fondling Gendry's cock teasingly just before she began to undo his laces painfully slow. Jon had to stifle a grunt as she finally extracted Gendry from his restraints, her hand grasping him firmly and forcing him to watch the other man's body tense at her touch. He felt his own grip tighten around his cock wishing it was Arya's fingers he was feeling and not his own. He stared at the slim fingers wrapped around Gendry's wood, practically salivating at the monstrous idea that it was himself he was really looking at, and that hers were the fingers now working him devotedly.
Whatever words she issued to make his gaze whip up to hers, Jon didn't hear them though he could see her lips moving. Gendry nodded hesitantly to her question and whispered something back. Then suddenly Arya was on her knees, looking up at her husband with nervous but committed eyes as she took him into her mouth.
Jon fell into the tree he'd been using to support himself, switching hands and jerking himself wildly. Gods those lips! The self-reproach he experienced as his filthy mind thanked him for staying was almost too much to cope with, though it wasn't enough to make him leave.
He could tell she hadn't had a man in her mouth before, and realized that was probably what had been discussed. He watched her wrap her swollen pink lips around Gendry's cock and gobble him up almost to the base. The other man threw his head back and groaned loudly and Jon almost joined him, the both of them loving the eager sight of her. As she withdrew herself, cheeks hollowed, she began a pace, sucking his stiff girth greedily as well as noisily. Jon matched her movements with his hand on his own prick.
It looked like Gendry was struggling not to thrust into her mouth, and the one time he did she wasn't prepared for it and choked. Jon couldn't exactly say why but he found the sight of her sputtering especially enticing as her breasts jiggled and her face twisted; he gripped himself a bit harder feeling his stomach turn at his own hedonism. Gendry looked to be apologizing for it but Arya waved it off and said something that visibly took the blacksmith aback. Jon only realized what she must have suggested as she enveloped his cock with her mouth once again, looking up at him expectantly as he tentatively grabbed her face with both hands and gingerly began thrusting into her mouth.
Jon felt his own mouth drop open, and closed his eyes at the wonton sight, gritting his teeth although not stopping with his hand but rather tossing faster. He was a needy abominable swine who might burn in hell but he couldn't stop, not now.
When he finally lifted his eye-lids back up he almost lost his load seeing Gendry's pace had picked up and his sister was squeezing her eyes shut in apparent discomfort. Gods but he hated that the muscles in his lower abdomen fluttered in pleasure at the glorious sight. How could he be enjoying this so thoroughly when it was so utterly repugnant on his part?
When Gendry's thrusting and lusty need became too much, her mouth now only open around him instead of sucking at him avidly, he brought her up off her knees. He turned her facing away from him and she immediately began grinding her wonderfully round ass back against him, practically begging to be penetrated. Jon had to bite his lip at the scene, and he watched as Gendry pressed his own throbbing cock up against her in an appeal for friction. Jon couldn't help but imagine how wet she was as Gendry tweaked her nipples and grabbed at her breasts, burying his head against her neck. Fuck was he on the verge, and damn was there anything ever more grossly immoral than that!
Jon involuntarily thrust into his hand, and found himself thanking the old gods and the new as Gendry bent her over so she could brace herself against the tree, giving him a perfect view of the slick blushing lips of her sex and the wonderful pink warmth of her cunt behind them. Gendry himself seemed to enjoy the view, though he wasn't a filthy ingrate for doing so, and he took more than a moment to stare at her like that until she wiggled her hips beckoning for him to take her. He lined himself up.
Jon brought a fist to his mouth and bit down hard seeing Gendry probe her entrance lightly. Just as he prepared to enter her, Arya thrust herself back onto him impatiently, unable to wait any longer. They both called out at the feeling of their union and it was a good thing because Jon couldn't stop his own guilty strangled moan.
Arya started throwing her hips backwards as Gendry and Jon both looked to where they were joined, enthralled by the sight of watching him disappear into her over and over again, her lips straining around his girth and sliding up and down in tandem with her splendid movements. Eventually Gendry felt the need to assist and then he was thrusting into her languidly, snapping his hips coarsely at the end and driving the last few inches into her roughly. The sound of their skin meeting in lewd sounding smacks had Jon stroking furiously in twisted need.
Soon enough Gendry was overcome by the sensation and began plowing into her unreservedly, each blow running deliciously up through her core, the violent collision of their hips making her tits bounce spectacularly in rhythm and her fine little ass jiggle as she mewled agreeably and met him fervently thrust for ferocious thrust. Jon was helpless to the whims of his wicked pleasure at the exquisite sight and even more so when Gendry moved one hand to Arya's lower back, pressing down hard enough to make her arch her spine while he moved his other hand to her shoulder to assist in throwing her back into him brutally.
Jon worked himself raw, finally feeling his eminent climax just as Gendry roared out his own, burying himself deep into Arya as she moaned in magnificent release around him, clutching at her breasts weakly as she struggled to keep herself standing on orgasm weakened legs. Jon spurted his creamy white load hard all over the tree in front of him, muscles convulsing, and jaw clenched, eyes drinking in the sight of his sister in utter satisfaction and loving it in all his remorseful shame.
When he finally came down from his pleasure all he was left with was guilt and self condemnation, mortified with himself at what he had just done, that he couldn't stop himself while it was happening. His lack of self-control was reprehensible. The only thing that stopped him from revealing himself and submitting to whatever punishment they deemed fit was the fact that he couldn't bear to think of his sister not speaking to him ever again.
Jon didn't look back up, he didn't want to know if they would go again less his body force him to stay for more torture. He hurriedly fumbled with his laces, hands trembling thinking about the horrid deed he'd just committed. He slipped his way back through the woods silently, hoping it all was some disgusting out of body experience, some evil nightmare.
When he knew he was far enough away that he'd just be another muddled sound in the darkness of the forest, he finally let out the breath that he didn't know he'd been holding and he staggered into a tree feeling the bile rise in his throat as he experienced the unfettered need to wretch. He was a decrepit bastard piece of filth, he knew it now and he knew it back when he had his prick in hand, caressing himself at the sight of his favorite sibling in the heat of her desire.
Suddenly he was sprinting to his horse, not really aware of what he was doing, running desperately away from the hideous reality of his wonderfully corrupt release. He almost mounted his horse and galloped back to Kings Landing, almost. Then he remembered why he was here and what he had promised.
His legs felt like lead as he turned back towards the forest, head hung low as he made his way back towards his sister, only this time making as much noise as possible and sending Ghost ahead of him to make his presence known.
When Arya felt Gendry withdraw from her with what she had now deemed her favorite of his appendages, it was as if the all strength in her body left her and she almost crumpled to the ground. She hadn't realize that her knees were so weak but apparently Gendry had and suddenly his large arm was looped just under her bare breasts and making sure she didn't collapse.
She weakly managed to find her footing and turned around to face him wincing at the feel of her punished cunt. She had already been sore, but now her body felt completely brutalized and she couldn't blame anyone but herself. She was never one to do things half way and had always been known to throw herself into her passions once discovered. Bed sport was certainly no different, and like all things she enjoyed she paid for her eagerness in the sore feel of her body afterwards.
Gendry noticed her discomfort and his own expression twisted into one of guilt, appearing anguished and remorseful for what he had inflicted on her, looking like he was about to make a fuss about it.
When he opened his mouth for what she was sure was going to be an apology she glared and cut him off. "Don't you look at me like that stupid! How many times do I have to tell you I'm not breakable!" She huffed.
Gendry grimaced and fidgeted. "I should've held myself back. You could hardly sit your saddle before." He offered her ashamedly.
Arya snorted. "I would've taken more offense to your restraint than anything else. Besides it not as if you really had a say in the matter." She grabbed her discarded clothing and looked to begin dressing herself when he halted her.
"The springs might ease the pain of your muscles a bit." He suggested, nodding to where steam was rising from the small pool.
She didn't need to be told twice, it sounded like more than a brilliant idea. She dropped her clothing and strode past him not bothering to test the water but rather just falling right into its welcoming warmth and feeling some of her pain easing as it enveloped her.
Arya hadn't planned to lie with him again so soon, and while still recovering from the vigorous activities of their marriage night no less. Regardless she didn't regret one second of it.
Never before had she ever been subject to desiring a man, but with his hammer driven into the ground in front of her and his powerful body silhouetted against the firelight he had been practically irresistible to her in his strength. She hated being bested in a spar, but somehow that hate transformed into a need to devour him in the only other way she could think. Her lingering ache had been forgotten entirely as a completely hedonistic lust rose within her and took over. She craved the feeling of power her body exerted over his. What was strange was she even enjoyed the dominance his had shown over hers, found it arousing even. Normally she loathed to be reminded that she was generally outmatched in might because of her gender, but with him she relished it, reveling in the newfound wetness it caused between her thighs. It was certainly a new development, if a one to be wary of.
She moved to float on her back, closing her eyes. "Will you spar with me again?" she asked.
She heard him chuckle and opened her eyes seeing him enter the water, bowl of soup in hand. "I suppose so." He told her.
She swam over to him and stole the spoon from his bowl and scooped herself a bite. "Good because I'd hold a sword to your throat again if you didn't agree."
Gendry snorted and swiped the spoon back. "I'm sure the master at arms would love to see my wife threatening my life." He took an exceptionally large spoonful of soup and spoke while chewing. "Though if you plan on flinging yourself on me after every time I may have to insist that we keep out of the weapons yard."
Arya punched him in his solid stomach under the water as hard as she could and he sputtered for a moment through his food before catching his breath and smirking at her, shaking his head ruefully and taking another bite. The fact that she affected him so little with the blow irked her. She promptly snatched the soup bowl and turned intending to keep it away from him, though she halted in making off with it across the pond as she turned and her gaze fell on the glowing yellow eyes of Ghost as the silent wolf came into the firelight.
Her eyes whipped upwards as she heard something clamoring towards them in the woods. Gendry was next to her in an instant and then pushing her behind him protectively the next. Arya rolled her eyes and shoved past him getting out of the pool and hurriedly going for her clothes. "It's Jon." She told him. When he didn't move she rolled her eyes again. "Well don't just stand there idiot. Get dressed."
She heard her brother's distinctive voice calling her name in the darkness long before he came through the ring of trees entering the small clearing into the firelight. Arya was still struggling with the ties of her dress but just managed a sad excuse of a knot before turning to face him. It was strange though because he wouldn't meet her gaze and looked like he was agonizing over something. He wasn't acting like himself and the way his posture was sagging and he was dragging his feet made him appear as if he had given up all his fight.
Even though her instinct was to run to him and ask what was wrong, she was still more than cross with him, and even more so now that he had come after her when she had just wanted to get away. She scowled at the crown of his head until he swallowed thickly and met her eyes. His expression was twisted sorely and his normal quiet confidence seemed overwhelmed by a dreadful tension that had his shoulders slumping.
He looked and sounded defeated as he spoke. "I'm sorry Arya." He told her hoarsely sounding nothing like himself.
The tone made her heart ache for him but she wasn't going to let him off that easy. "That doesn't mean I'm just going to forgive you." She snapped at him.
He stared at her solemnly, his eyes slightly glossed over. "You shouldn't. I don't deserve your forgiveness." His demeanor was stoic and he gulped sorrowfully.
Arya stared at him brows furrowed and took a step towards him before she realized what she was doing and stopped herself. She considered him warily, "What's wrong?" She asked him seriously. He was behaving strangely and it had her of kilter and alarmed.
Usually after he'd apologize for being an ass and she had stubbornly refused to accept said apology, he'd tell her she had no choice seeing as they were siblings and it was his right to irritate her with his infallible wisdom. There was generally some ruffling of hair on his part and some begrudging hugs on hers, and then he'd always tickle her until he got a smile and she'd elbow him in the stomach before they ran off to find trouble, Jon assisting in sneaking her away from lessons with Septa Mordane. Never before had it gone like this.
He just stood there and told her he'd understand if she never forgave him. That she shouldn't forgive him. The Bedding had been a nightmare and she truly hadn't been prepared to excuse her brothers their apathy towards her degrading plight but suddenly she felt horrible for making Jon feel so guilty. He looked broken and remorseful and he could hardly look at her.
"What's wrong Jon?" She repeated. "Did you just come after me to apologize?" He knew her well enough to know she'd be more agreeable after some time alone sulking so she knew there must be other reasons that he had sought her out preemptively.
"No." He shook his head looking to the ground trying to figure out what to say. "I've come to bring you back to King's Landing." He told her. When she scowled he licked his lips and went on before she could get a word in. "Your Lady mother leaves for Winterfell with Robb, Bran, and Rickon as soon as preparations have been made and you're safely returned to bid them goodbye. Our father is sending a third of our men back to accompany them."
Arya tried to process all the information quickly but none of it made sense. "Leaving?" She asked breathlessly. Nearly half all of her family was deserting her, leaving her to rot in the capital and not even lingering a full day after her wedding before they made ready to depart. The realization would've stung more if she didn't comprehend there must be a reason behind it. "Why only a send a third of the men as escort? Why not half?" She asked seeing the discrepancy immediately. Robb was her father's heir, and Bran and Rickon behind him, surely he would provide more guards to protect his legacy and the Stark bloodline. Why would he stay behind himself? "Jon what's going on?" She asked him anxiously.
Jon grimaced sadly. "The Hand's been found dead Arya." He told them gravely. "There are whispers it may have been poison. The whole city is up in arms."
Arya was about to say something when a third voice startled her into realizing it wasn't just her and Jon. She had forgotten Gendry was still there until he stepped forward.
"The Hand is dead?" He questioned somberly looking for confirmation he'd heard correctly. "Jon Arryn is dead?" There was an edge of disbelief to his voice.
When Jon nodded grimly Gendry immediately strode over to saddle the horses hiding his face though the stiffness of his movements gave his thoughts away.
Arya frowned at her husbands back sadly. "Gendry..." She called out to him her voice anguished. She approached, feeling for his loss, and reached out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder but withdrew herself and stopped, bowing her head not really feeling it was her place to console him. She was no good at this sort of thing. "I'm sorry." She told him remorsefully staring at the ground. He only nodded curtly before gathering their things.
Arya moved to help him break camp and dumped the soup out on the ground where Ghost and Nymeria quickly lapped up the broth and devoured any pieces of meat. She dunked the pot in the springs and poured water on the fire before stamping out the ashes and strapping needle to her saddlebag. She hauled Gendry's bloody heavy hammer over to him so he could do similarly. They were quick about it with Jon there to help and soon enough he turned to find his own horse muttering about meeting them at the road. Arya was left to struggle in mounting her mare feeling sorer than she could ever remember.
Gendry saw her hesitation and instead of leaving her there to decide how to go about easing herself atop her horse without causing a great amount pain, he lifted her off the ground and gently placed her in the saddle. Had the situation been any different she probably would've scowled and kicked him in the chest, insisting that she was capable of doing it herself even if it did hurt, but she wasn't heartless. She knew he just wanted to get back to the city and didn't want her holding them up.
The Kingsroad was silent as their horses rode through the night, making as good of time as they could. No one spoke a word until Jon left them at the gates explaining he was going after Rob who had apparently headed towards Maidenpool seeking out Arya and Gendry to the North. Evidently they had both ridden out solely with their wolves insisting Stark bannermen remain in the city should incident occur within the keep. Arya sent Nymeria with her brothers in case they should come upon trouble on the Kingsroad. Three huge Direwolves escorting two Northern lads strapped with castle-forged steel wouldn't be a welcoming sight for bandits or thieves. There were three more wolves in the keep that would do for protection for the rest of them.
Gendry led the way back to the Keep at a brisk pace and Arya couldn't help but noticed that the city seemed quiet, as if everyone were perched on the edge of a knife, waiting for the coin to drop and chaos to erupt. She didn't quiet understand how the death of one man could cause such alarm and anxiety, but she wasn't familiar with the politics of the capital, nor the Game of Thrones. To her it was just silly southron nonsense, although now it seemed much more real, and much more dangerous. The common folk certainly seemed to be sensitive to the significance of it all.
By the time they were back in the keep Arya was just following Gendry and she wasn't even sure where they were headed at this point. That is until he approached a door flanked by two of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy and Mandon Moore. There must've been orders to let the two of them past because they were let through without so much as a protest or a word. They entered into the King's solar and both her father and King Robert ceased their words and turned to examine the newcomers.
Ned was up on his feet and striding towards them the instant he realized who had come in. Before Arya could determine if he was going to yell or send her away she was being pulled into a bone crushing hug that she returned though with less force. After a moment he held her at arms length. "Are you unharmed? Where're your brothers?" He asked in quick succession.
"I'm fine." Arya gritted out. She was really getting tired of saying that. "Jon went to find Robb. I sent Nymeria with him." She informed her father.
Ned gave her the briefest of smiles. "Good." He told her fondly, cupping her cheek. His eyes flashed to steel though when he turned to Gendry. He took a threatening step towards the large boy clearly working to restrain himself. "I thought I could trust you with my daughter." He rumbled softly, leashing his anger and looking for an explanation. "I thought you'd match well with her, be able to power over her willful demands. Instead the both of you steal out of the city like smugglers, leaving your family to guess where you've gone off to." His anger was directed at the both of them now.
Arya frowned indignantly ignoring her father's ire and feeling her own well up. She spoke just as her husband went to open his mouth. "Power over me?" She seethed at her father. "Is that what you wished in selling me off? In making me marry?" She asked hazardously. "To find someone to tame me and make me a proper lady?" She spat out disgustedly. She sounded almost frenzied at the end. She'd had it with people trying to manipulate her into being something she so clearly wasn't
Her father turned to her looking irritated. "Ary—"
"No!" She cut him off as well. "If that was your aim I assure you, you have failed miserably!" She was enraged and there was no stopping her. "You don't know me at all if you think I will just stand by and let myself be—"
"Arya!" She actually jumped at the loudness of Gendry's bark, as embarrassing as it was. He too looked heated and she'd never even considered the thought that he could raise his voice to such a decibel let alone do it. He may have been large but he seemed a bit bashful and meek, although he could wield a hammer like no man she'd ever witnessed. Maybe she should've expected it.
"Enough!" He thundered at her gruffly though bringing his volume down. "You're not helping at all! You're father has a right to be angry." He said through a clenched jaw, ready to take whatever chastisement their father's saw fit to dole out.
Arya frowned sullenly and looked to the ground. Had she been looking up she would have seen her father blinking in surprise momentarily as he looked between them. Whatever his consideration, he brushed it off to continue once he realized his resentment hadn't dissipated. "Did you think I'd take it in stride to find my daughter and her new husband slipping away to Braavos without a word?" He questioned coldly.
Arya gulped, she could understand why her father would jump to that conclusion. She'd threatened to do as much for years, though never in the company of a man. In fact, it was usually implied she'd do so to escape a betrothal before she was to be wed. She wondered if she could sneak off now without being seen so as to avoid the awkwardness of the required explanation that was sure to follow.
Gendry looked genuinely confused. "Braavos?" He asked bewildered. "We went to the Kingswood." He told them perplexed. He had no idea what her father was on about.
Ned was similarly caught of guard. "The Kingswood?" He questioned skeptically. When Gendry nodded Ned blinked. "Why the Kingswood?"
Gendry shrugged. "I came back to our rooms after the forge and I found she'd—"
Arya elbowed him and gave him a sharp look. She definitely didn't want her father to know she had destroyed their chambers.
Gendry rolled his eyes but continued. "I found her," He looked at her pointedly, "upset." He explained. "She said she wanted to get away from the city so I took her to the hot spring in the Kingswood hoping it would bring her some comfort and remind her of Winterfell. I should've left word with your men. I see that now. It was foolish of me not to think of the courtesy." He paused for a moment before looking confounded again. "Why'd you think we went ran of to Braavos if you don't mind me asking?"
Arya watched as a wave of relief flooded her father's face and then the King slap his back chummily. She was happy that Gendry's question was ignored.
"I told you the boy wouldn't be so convinced, Ned." The King chuckled. "He's just been given titles and a highborn wife. He wouldn't let the girl talk him into fleeing for Braavos! He comes from my seed, it's not in his nature to let a woman lead him by the balls."
Arya scowled at the Kings words but watched as her father came forward and grasped her husband's forearm.
"I owe you an apology. I was quick in my assumptions but I was worried." Ned said solemnly his eyes now a soft smoke.
Gendry nodded and shook her father's hand. "It is I who am sorry. It wasn't my intention to frighten you or your family."
When they broke away from each other's grasp Gendry's gaze turned disconsolate and he regarded his father and her own with dread apparent in his eyes. "We've heard news of Jon Arryn." He muttered morosely, his tone along with the mood in the room turning somber. "What's happened to my Uncle?"