A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous two, but I hope you still like it! Review if you'd like, I love any constructive criticism I can get, or any compliments.

A week after Sansa and Joffrey had gotten engaged, Ned and Cat announced that they would be spending the next month in their home that resided in the Hamptons as a way to spend the middle of the summer in peace.

Sansa protested immediately, something that shocked everyone. Sansa loved the Hamptons, more than even Arya did. Arya herself loved the solidarity their private home provided her. She wasn't forced to go anywhere she didn't want or perform ladylike duties. She could just be. But Sansa looked forward to spending the summer in the Hamptons every single year, as it was their family tradition. She sometimes disappeared there at random points during the rest of the year for a relaxing vacation, but the summer was a time for the Starks to spend time together completely. And now Sansa was taking her favorite of the many Stark traditions and throwing it back in her parents' faces.

"I can't go to the Hamptons this summer, I have a wedding and an engagement party to plan!" she complained.

Arya was already packing. She was excited to go back to the Hamptons. She looked forward to it every year, as well. She was trying to block out the sounds of her parents trying to convince Sansa to come along with them as she folded various bathing suits into her suitcase, when a shrill beep from her phone sounded across the room from her bed. Arya took her phone from her bed and opened it to see who had texted her. And the moment she saw the name printed there on her screen in bold black letters, she felt her heart skip a beat.

Gendry fucking Baratheon. They hadn't texted each other after that first night, when Arya had ignored him after he made a comment to her about already being bored with her and he had only responded with 'okay, then'. She hadn't texted him again after that, and he hadn't made any effort to reach out to her. Until now. She had begun to hope that he had forgotten about her.

Panicking, Arya threw her phone down on her bed, knowing that if she never opened the message, Gendry would see the status as Delievered only, instead of Read. If she looked at it later, though, she could tell him she had been too busy to look at her phone and received his message to respond at the appropriate time. Walking back to her closet, Arya pulled out two pairs of matching wedged sandals in two different colors. They had been her seventeenth birthday gift from Sansa, and she had to admit they were very cute. Arya put them in her suitcase before taking a break and walking downstairs to see how Sansa's fight was holding up.

Apparently, her parents and her older sister had reached an agreement: Sansa would only be staying for the first half of July, and she would be returning to Manhattan earlier so she could finish planning her engagement party that would be set in early August.

Sansa still seemed very cross about the whole situation, and Arya already knew she was under enough stress so she decided to keep any comments she had to herself. Comments involving advice along the lines of avoiding the whole wedding stress by dumping Joffrey's ass on the curb.

"Are you at least excited to go back to the Hamptons, Arya?" Ned asked her, looking rather exhausted. He definitely needed the vacation as much as everyone else.

"Of course I am," Arya said. "I love going to the Hamptons. I look forward to it every year."

"That's my girl." Ned smiled at his youngest daughter and ruffled her hair before walking into his office.

. . .

"Arya Stark," Gendry announced when he saw Arya walking into the garage. "Nice to know you haven't forgotten about me and finally deemed me worthy enough to grace me with your presence." Once again, laughter was sprouting in his voice, but there was some steely edge to it and no matter how many smirks Gendry wore, the edge cut through his tone like a sharp knife.

Arya, however, chose to ignore his supposed hurt and sat down on the same stool she had occupied a week ago. "Don't sound stupid like that. I've been busy. And I finally had some free time on my hands so I wondered why I haven't gone down to see my good friend Gendry?" Her own voice was laced with sarcasm and Gendry, too, ignored it.

"I'm honored that you think of me as one of your good friends," Gendry said.

She sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall on her stool, crossing her legs and jiggling her ankle rapidly. "I'm leaving," she said suddenly. Gendry looked up at her when she started speaking. "To the Hamptons. For July. So I won't be around. In case you decided to text me again."

Gendry raised his eyebrows and waited to see if she was done, because it looked like there was a lot more she'd like to say. But Arya seemed to know when to hold her tongue at certain points, because she closed her mouth and looked down at the dirty floor of the garage as she waited for Gendry to respond. In the back of her mind, she had the distant thought that her mother would probably faint if she saw the state this shop was in, and immediately get to work on scrubbing every surface raw until it sparkled and gleamed. Thinking about Cat helped distract Arya from where she was in and how she was making a rather insignificant conversation in her life seem like one of her problems that would dominate her life.

"I hope you have a good time," Gendry said simply.

Arya wanted to lash out at him then. She had already told him once before, but he had the worst mood swings ever. And boys were always complaining about how girls on their periods were a handful, Arya thought spitefully. Let them spend an hour with Gendry fucking Waters! She forced a tight smile onto her lips. "I will," she said with false happiness seeping through her tone.

"When will you be back?" he asked.

"August 1st. Sansa's engagement part is a week after that."

"Don't yell at any reporters while you're away."

"Don't be a stupid bull while I'm not here."

Gendry stood up from the bench he had been sitting on and stretched. "Shouldn't you be getting back, then?"

Arya shook her head. "I'm not leaving for another three days."

He wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. "Then why are you telling me you're leaving now?"

She shrugged. "You sent me a text, and I thought it would be a good excuse to come down here and bother you."

"Well, if that had been your only goal, I think it's safe to say you've succeeded."

Arya scoffed. Apparently, Gendry had gone back to being insufferable. He smiled teasingly at her and rolled his eyes at her. "But really," he said seriously. "I hope you have a good trip."

She returned his smile a little reluctantly. She still hadn't formed a proper opinion on Gendry, if she was being honest, and the scale always seemed to be caught dangling precariously between the sides of good and bad. "Yeah, so do I."

. . .

Arya opened the front door and had to stifle her groan. She shouldn't have opened it, or at least looked through the peephole to mentally prepare herself for the person standing on her doorstep currently. "Sansa's not here right now," Arya said as a greeting. She moved to close the door in Joffrey's face, but he reached out quickly and caught it in his hand, stopping it a few inches from his face.

"Where is she?" he asked. Arya bit back her comment about him not controlling her sister's every move. When she didn't answer, Joffrey asked again. "She's my fiancee, I have a right to know where she is."

"I think she's at work."

"Why is she still working with Margaery Tyrell?"

"I don't know."

"She doesn't belong there."

"She's happy there."

"If Sansa wants to be a journalist, she could just as easily get a job at one of my Uncle Jaime's magazines. Or my grandfather. There's no need for her to work at Ivy or Weeds or whatever Margaery calls it."

"It's Envy."

"I don't care."

"Sansa cares. It is her job, after all. And she can decide where she wants to work. She's a big girl."

Joffrey pushed the door fully open, making Arya stumble back a little bit.

As he walked through the first floor of Winterfell Estate, Arya kept her eyes trained on him. His back was to her so she could inspect her future brother in law as much as she wished, as thoroughly as she wanted. He was described by many as handsome, but Arya didn't see it. He had pale blond hair, like his mother Cersei and her twin brother Jaime, which he covered in bottles upon bottles of hair gel. And he had a rather pointy and pale face. Arya had no idea what Sansa had seen in Joffrey at fifteen because he was even worse than, if Arya remembered correctly. He had just been discovering that girls seemed to want to be with him, and even if it was only for his money, he abused that power shamelessly. How did Sansa ever fall in love with him?

Arya and Jon had spent months trying to talk Sansa out of dating him, having grown up with him their whole lives and knowing first-hand how much of a little shit he was.

But Sansa had always been enamored by the oldest Baratheon child, so when Joffrey asked Sansa out on a date one day, she was just too eager to leap willingly into his hands.

Needless to say, Arya had been quite disgusted with her sister for a time, and there was a large part of her that still was.

"Is there anything you want, Joffrey?" Arya asked tiredly, too short of her already-limited patience to bother trying to fake politeness. She wanted him out of her house now, and she'd do anything to get it done.

"I'm looking for Sansa," Joffrey repeated once more.

"Well," Arya said slowly as she walked to the kitchen to get herself a granola bar. "I've already told you she's not here. So there's no reason for you to stick around, now, is there? So if you could just do me a favor and. . . ." Arya let her sentence trail off as she not-so-subtly inclined her chin to the front door he had just shoved himself through without an invitation.

Joffrey took a step closer to her, eyes narrowing. "You know, I'm going to be your brother-in-law soon enough. No matter what you say after our wedding, Sansa will always choose me."

Arya snorted, a very unladylike sound that she was pleased to see irritated Joffrey, if the slight tightening of his eyes was any indication. "Please. Starks always put their family before anything else."

Joffrey smiled, a twisted and sickening curl of his thin and pale lips. The sight sent a bitterly cold shiver down Arya's back even though it was still the beginning of July. "Well, then, I guess it's a good thing she's going to be a Baratheon soon enough, right, Arya?" Arya fought the urge to kick him in the shin, or slap him across the face, or give him a good insult that everybody knew he deserved. But before she could move a muscle, let alone think of a bad enough word to describe him, Joffrey was on his way to the front door, his confident swagger making Arya want to knock him down. "I'll be seeing you, I suppose."

Arya slammed the door closed on him before he was barely out the door. She turned away from the door so fast you'd think it had offended her, crossing her arms in anger and frustration and sighing heavily as she felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her all of a sudden. She still had to finish packing for the Hamptons. They'd be leaving in two days, and Arya hadn't even finished packing yet. Sansa would have a heart attack if she heard it. And for the first time, Arya felt a sense of dread at going to the Hamptons for the summer.

. . .

The Hamptons had always had a certain charm to it, especially the area where Arya spent her summers. The Stark's estate was set in a remote and private neighborhood that was gated off from the rest of the community, and if you didn't live there, you had to speak to someone in a little box through an intercom to get through to the person you were visiting. It was all very secure and safe, and Arya loved it here.

She dropped her suitcase and bag on her bed and looked around. Her room was exactly as she had remembered from last summer: White walls with gold, glittery swirls painted on, bookshelves lining the walls, a large closet next to the big bed, and two dressers with a desk and a vanity mirror.

The room had been redecorated by Cat three years ago, but Arya had to admit that even though she had no use for such a big closet or a vanity, she loved her room.

Arya quickly changed out of her shorts and tank top and switched it for a black short-sleeved top with gray shorts that had suspenders attached to it. She slipped on a pair of black knee-high socks and black flats. Eager to get back to the Hamptons, Arya dashed down the stairs of the Stark's mansion, calling out a quick goodbye right before she disappeared down the stairs.

She got in her car and drove out of the small community, waving goodbye to the worker sitting in the box as she exited the gate. She opened her windows and let the soft summer breeze drift through her hair as she drove.

The outlet malls had always been her favorite place to go. Arya was never a fan of shopping, but she loved going to these malls. They had cute little food shops that only had three tables that seated two, and vintage clothing stores that Arya found herself drawn to every time she went inside. She parked her car in the large parking lot and slung her bag over her shoulder as she walked out to explore all the new places that had been added while she'd been gone. A few stores remained, and thankfully many of them were Arya's personal favorites. She went to those first, sampling delicious chocolate truffles and buying a few vintage clothing items so Sansa couldn't complain about her wardrobe and its lack of variety and style.

As she was walking down the street to see other stores, she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl said. Arya was struck silent by the girl's beauty. She wasn't exactly tall, but the four-inch wedges that she currently had on her feet definitely added some height to her. Her long whitish blond hair was pulled back into a braid crown so it didn't blow into her face from the wind. And she was wearing a gorgeous silk colorfully striped maxi dress that tied around her neck with a bright gold necklace glinting in the sunlight. Arya was absolutely stunned. She was absolutely beautiful, the kind that stopped people in their tracks, the kind that people like Sansa and Margaery possessed.

Arya still hadn't responded, so when the girl apologized once again, she blushed. "Oh, no it's my fault. I wasn't looking."

"Neither was I." She had a bit of an accent tingeing her voice, but Arya couldn't place it because it was so faint.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Arya asked, hesitantly eyeing the wedges peeking out from the hem of her dress. They looked seriously dangerous, and if Arya had been wearing them, she'd have sprained her ankle by herself without anyone bumping into her.

"Oh, no, of course not. What about you? Are you alright?"

Arya nodded, smiling slightly at how genuine this girl sounded.

"Dany!" A male voice interrupted them, and a man who looked somewhat similar to the girl appeared at their side. He looked Arya up and down with sudden interest and Arya felt her cheeks heating up.

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen, but people normally call me Dany," the girl said, extending her hand for Arya to shake. She did.

"Arya Stark, pleased to meet you," Arya said.

The man stiffened slightly, but Dany and Arya pretended not to notice. Instead, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Arya, this is my nephew, Aegon."

Aegon, recovering quite quickly from the tension that had apparently been taking over his body, took Arya's hand and instead of shaking it, kissed it lightly. Arya blushed while Dany rolled her eyes. "Aegon Targaryen, pleasure to make your acquaintance."