To be perfectly honest this isn't my favourite chapter of all time, but I did manage to post it after about 21 months of radio silence, so there's that.
This chapter took a very long time to write, I was stuck on 1,500 words for an inordinate amount of time, so I just left it, and didn't really think about it. So, we'll see if this writing thing is going to stick this time.
I hope people are still interested in reading this thing, let me know what you think in the comments, and any constructive criticism is welcome.
Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.
"So, come on," Sansa insisted, as they were stopped in the heavy morning traffic, "tell me about Jaqen."
"What's there to tell?" Arya shrugged. She'd had a nice night, she met some nice people, she went home. Arya couldn't see why Sansa was making as much of a fuss over it as she was.
"What's there to tell?" Sansa repeated. "Well, maybe the fact that I saw you and Jaqen kissing as I got home!"
"Seven hells Sansa," Arya all but growled. "I had a good night; I kissed a boy; I met some nice people. Stop screaming at me!"
Sansa harrumphed, her eyes trained on the unmoving traffic in front of her. Arya slouched against the car door, gazing into the empty backseat of the car beside them. Sansa always makes everything so dramatic, Arya thought darkly. Can't I have just had a good night without getting the third degree?
"I just thought that maybe you'd want to talk about it, about what happened," Sansa said in a small voice. "The first date I ever went on, I didn't have anyone to talk to. You were always off playing with Jon and Robb, and I wasn't very well going to talk with mother about it."
Arya laughed lightly, "Can you imagine her reaction? You were out with a boy!" Arya shrieked in her best impression of their mother. "You're only… wait, how old were you?"
"Thirteen," Sansa supplied.
"You're only thirteen years old, far too young!" Arya continued. "That's no way for a lady of your calibre to act!" They both laughed, long and hard, over the matter.
By the time Sansas' car pulled into a parking space, the dark mood had somewhat abated. Arya glanced at her watch, which read only 7:30. She rubbed her eyes as she pushed open the door, and was hit by an arctic gust of wind.
"Sansa," Arya said quietly, as they began to walk towards the café, "have I done something to upset you?"
Sansa had a quizzical expression on her face as she shook her head, no.
"Okay, I just wanted to check," Arya began, "because its 7 o'clock in the morning, and you and I are trekking to get coffee. I bet this is for that photo with the Targaryen, but like I told you, I didn't know she was the artist, or even why she wanted to talk to me."
"Arya, I'm not upset with you," Sansa said with finality. "But I do expect an actual in-depth discussion as to the events of last night, and you can't leave out any details, because I can, and will, find out."
Arya stopped as she watched her sister push through the door to that familiar café. Maybe the internet has become too powerful a thing, Arya thought, as she followed her sister into the store, glad to be out of the wind, her school uniform did not provide the kind of wind resistance necessary for the gale blowing outside.
Gendry was stood behind the counter, his stubble growing into almost a scruffy beard. He looked bedraggled, with a crumpled white t-shirt, and his hair looked to be untameable.
"Hello ladies," he greeted them with a yawn.
Arya scowled at him, while Sansa politely smiled. They sat at a table right by the counter, and Sansa pulled her tablet from her bookbag, and began to scroll through her news feed.
"You look like the dog's breakfast," Arya informed Gendry, as he watched the pair, his hands supporting his stubbly chin as he rested on the countertop.
"Ah, milady is too kind," Gendry said, with a mock-bow. "And she looks rather exquisite herself." He looked her up and down, taking in her school uniform, the seersucker skirt, and bright blue school jumper.
"Oh shut up," Arya scrunched her nose at him, as he resumed his position of holding the counter stable. "And can we please get some coffee on this brisk morning?"
"Brisk?" he repeated. "I thought you Northerners could handle a little autumn breeze. What was it that you told me?" He tapped his chin with his forefinger. "Ah, yes, 'King's Landing doesn't get cold. It's nothing compared to Winterfell.'"
Arya's arms crossed over her chest, as she stuck her tongue out at Gendry who had a triumphant grin on his face.
Sansa interrupted their banter, as she squealed and shook her tablet in the air. Her finger tapped onto a photograph. Arya craned her neck to see herself with a wry-looking grin on her face, and Jaqen with a broad white smile, his arm wrapped around her waist. There were maybe a half-dozen photographs of couples, with the impressive bronze doors of the Dragonpit in the background of nearly all of the photos. But on the next page there was a blown up photograph of Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo, both looking luminous, as they stared not into the camera, but at each other.
"Okay," Sansa said, her voice in a higher pitch than usual. "Tell me all about it. How on earth did you get to meet Daenerys Targaryen?"
"Well, she sort of approached me," Arya started.
"Shut up. She did not."
"She did," Arya confirmed. "I was looking at a piece, and she came up and just said the title, I didn't know who she was, I didn't even really understand what she was saying at first."
Sansa just watched her with wide eyes, experiencing this all vicariously, as that was as good as it was going to get.
Arya continued her story, as Gendry placed the coffees on the table, and pulled up a chair to join them at the table, seeing as the café was all but empty.
"Oh, and I know you're going to flip if I don't tell you this," Arya braced herself, "but she gave me her business card, and then said something in a language I think might have been Valyrian, but her and Drogo were speaking in a different language, that was definitely not Valyrian or the Common Tongue, so I don't know."
"Dothraki," Sansa confirmed with a nod.
"How do you know?"
"Duh, I've read pretty much everything there is to know about Daenerys, so her boyfriend's heritage is not that uncommon a thing to come across," she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, enjoying knowing something that no one else did. "Did you see this Gendry?" Sansa asked moving the screen to sit in front of him.
Arya held her breath, she hadn't wanted Gendry to see that photo of her. She was still thinking about that night on the beach, and how sweet he had been, but whenever she thought about that she thought about the girl with the black hair, with her mouth on Gendry's from the night at the club. Her stomach was twisting into knots, as she watched his face take in her photograph.
"Ah," he nodded, "and I thought you looked exquisite this morning. I should have seen you last night." His eyes met hers for a second before he looked away, back down at the screen.
She wanted to kick Sansa, hard.
Sansa let out a little squeal, unaware of Arya's current unease. "Oh, I have to call Jeyne, she will just die once she sees you're on the actual news, I just know it." She collected herself from the table and strode to the back of the store like she was on a mission.
"So," Gendry started in a quiet voice, "I've seen that guy before."
"Yeah, he works a couple of blocks away at that French restaurant. I think he's been here a few times before."
A silence stretched between them, leaving Arya feeling apprehensive. The silence was broken by a loud crack of thunder, which was quickly followed by an onslaught on rain that hammered against the windowpanes.
Arya was still thinking about Gendry and his pretty girl, her stomach still assaulting her insides, when she thought, To hells with it.
"Gendry, why do you keep being…" she paused to find the right words, "so sweet to me? And then mean?" The words weren't right; they felt wrong. She wanted to tell him how whenever she thought of him her stomach did somersaults, and that that night on the beach just star-gazing with him was perfect. But she couldn't say that. She couldn't just come out and say, 'Hey Gendry, I really like you.' What if it all fell apart? And the black-haired girl kept popping into her mind; she couldn't shake the image of him and her necking in that dark room.
Gendry watched her with a careful eye, waiting for her to elaborate.
"It's like one minute we're great, we laugh, we're having fun, and the next, I'm some annoying kid who won't leave you along."
"I don't think of you like that," Gendry said quietly, averting his gaze from her. He watched the table, as if willing it to do something.
"Well, I don't know how you think of me, because you're so hot and cold," Arya glanced back at her sister, to see that she was still in an animated phone conversation with Jeyne Poole, completely oblivious to the awkward encounter Arya had put herself in.
Gendry lifted his eyes to meet hers, and he grabbed one of her hands. "I don't think of you like that," he repeated, his warm gaze boring a hole through her. He reached a hand up and cupped her cheek; rough calluses lightly scratching her jaw. "I think you're pretty great, even if you can be unpleasant, and petulant, and moody," he grinned as he said this, his dimple flashing on his cheek.
He moved towards her, and with the rain beating she almost forgot. Forgot about where she was, and why she was having this conversation, and about the night before with Jaqen, and about Gendry's girl.
She put a hand on his chest to stop him, just before she lost her willpower. Gendry had a crestfallen expression on his face as he sat back in his seat.
"Gendry, I can't," Arya started quietly.
"Is it because of him?" he asked nodding towards the tablet.
"No, it's not him," she thought about this as she said it. She didn't know what she really felt; she hadn't had much time to process the whole series of events. Gendry's look darkened, and he cast his eyes back down to the table where they remained. "It's just, the other night, when we were at your show," she paused wondering how to phrase what she had to say next. "After the show, I saw you, and you were with this girl…" she trailed off hoping to not have to explain the rest of the situation.
Gendry thought for a moment, his eyes moving from the table to the ceiling. "Oh, you must mean Bella," he said, meeting her gaze at last.
Arya frowned at him; she hadn't been expecting the conversation to go like this.
"Bella is just one of those girls that hangs around with bands because she wants to get with a musician," he explained.
"So, she's not, like, your girlfriend?" Arya asked, her stomach clenching tightly.
"No," he said with a serious look on his face.
Arya felt a sort buzzing in her chest, as she watched his face, he looked stern, she wanted to grab him by his shirt, and kiss him feverishly, but she couldn't with Sansa standing just feet away.
"Oh," was all she could manage to say. Gendry's eyes were carefully studying her face, she watched as his expression changed from stern to thoughtful, and as his brow furrowed, she felt a grin begin to grow on her face.
Gendry also smiled as he watched her, the fluorescent lights reflecting in his blue eyes. Arya lay both of her hands upon his shoulders, "I've thought since that night that this Bella was your girlfriend," she let out a small self-deprecating laugh.
"Nope, I'm all by myself," he said quietly. "No one will have me."
Gendry moved so that they were looking directly into each other's eyes, and he opened his mouth about to speak when the bell above the door rang loudly interrupting the unspoken conversation that the two of them were having.
Arya shook herself; this was not what she had expected from this mornings coffee trip. Gendry walked behind the counter to grab his ordering pad before greeting the couple that had just entered.
Sansa had finished her phone call, and made her way back to the table.
"You should have heard Jeyne," Sansa squealed as she tucked her chair back in, placing her phone into her skirt pocket. "She was near speechless when I told her."
Arya nodded, taking a long sip of her coffee, her eyes fixed on Gendry as he worked the espresso machine.
"So," Sansa drew the word out, "are you going to make me wait, or am I just going to have to beg you for all of the details of your date?"
The way Sansa sing-songed the word 'date' caused Arya to look at her sister sharply. She was still processing this new Gendry information, and what it meant, and what it affected. Now Gendry wasn't some abstract idea of a person, he was real, and he was certainly real complicated.
"Well, sorry Miss Touchy," Sansa said in mock-indignation. "I have offended your sensibilities with my trivial chatter at this atrocious hour."
"Why, yes, you have sweet sister," Arya said, softening. "But just this once I'll let it slide."
The café continued to fill up with men and women in business suits ducking in for a morning coffee, and a reprieve from the rain. Arya consistently looked up to the counter, watching Gendry as he worked diligently, while Sansa maintained a conversation, filling in when Arya lagged as her focus drifted away.
"In that bag of yours, you wouldn't happen to have an umbrella?" Sansa asked sweetly.
"In what world would I have had enough time to collect an umbrella this morning, Sans?" Arya asked. Seeing Sansa's sheepish grin, she added, "You rushed me out of the house so quickly, I thought there might be a fire, not the exact opposite."
After draining her coffee, Sansa said, "Well, I suppose we'll just have to race to the car then."
Arya finished what was left of her quickly cooling coffee, placed a high pile of small coins on the table, picked up her knapsack, calmly slinging it over her shoulder before half-shouting at her sister, "Loser is an egg!"
Gendry looked up, as Arya and Sansa flew out of the store, Arya flashing him a grin before throwing the door harshly open, and running into the rainstorm.
The rain was really coming down, as the sisters ran at full pace beside one another. They dodged the umbrellas of the people brave enough to weather the downpour, with Arya coming to a stop under a storefronts scalloped awning by the car. The rain coming in at an angle, so that even underneath the cover, she was getting sprayed. Sansa struggled to find her keys in her bookbag, before finally unlocking the car, and both climbing in simultaneously.
"How'd you like me now, egg?" Arya smiled to her sister, as she shook her head, droplets flying and running down the window alongside the rain outside.
"Who're you calling egg, egg?" Sansa asked. "The deal was, first to the car, and I don't know about you, but we both got in at the same time."
"Oh, come off it."
"The way I see it, is that you took a brief rest beneath that shelter there, and we both got to the car at the same time. If not me a little bit quicker."
"You truly are a scoundrel," Arya said, still smiling. "Must be nice to be able to make up rules as you go along."
In retaliation, Sansa collected the lengths of her hair, and squeezed the water onto Arya's lap.
Arya simply narrowed her eyes at her sister, as the car roared to life, and the air-conditioner blasted out hot air, warming their rain soaked bones.
By the time they pulled into the Red Keep, the car park was near full, with students bustling along underneath large umbrellas. The rain had slowed down a bit to more of a drizzle than an onslaught, but without an umbrella, and with already sodden clothes, it didn't much matter by then.
Sansa tied her long hair into a bun on top of her head, keeping the wet strands out of her face as she dashed over to Joffrey who stood in conversation with a group of boys from the basketball team who dwarfed him by comparison. Sansa tossed a quick, "See you later," over her shoulder as she walked away from her sister.
Arya shook her head as she watched her sister. For such a smart girl, she sure wasn't clever.
She lowered her head, and gripped the straps of her knapsack as she began to hike up the path to the imposing red building.
As the bell rang signalling lunchtime, the rain had still not stopped, forcing everyone to eat inside the crowded refectory. Arya had been thinking all day about her conversation with Gendry. She couldn't help but smile as she thought about him, and his gruff manner, and scruffy charm.
She thought about her birthday when he and Hot Pie had taken her out, and how stupid she had been letting some girl she didn't know ruin her night, and then being too scared to ask about it, or do anything. She sat at a table with Hot Pie, who was deep in conversation with Lommy and Ned Dayne.
She watched Ned, his dark blue eyes, alight with laughter at Hot Pies antics. She thought about her birthday night again, and how she had asked Ned if Gendry had a girlfriend, Arya thought he hadn't denied the fact, which was essentially agreed with its truth, at least in her eyes.
She narrowed he eyes, as she watched him, wondering why he hadn't just told her. He seemed to notice her stare, as he turned to her and gave her a grin.
The corners of her mouth flicked upwards, but she was still studying him, wondering. She reached over and nicked the chocolate chip biscuit that sat in front of Hit Pie, opening the individual plastic wrap, she quickly took an enormous bite, breaking off about half.
"Hey!" Hot Pie exclaimed as he watched her in horror.
"You snooze, you lose," Arya said, as he took the crumbling remnants from her hand.
He grumbled at her, but she saw the edges of a smile creep onto his face.
"Alright, I've got to get going, I've got a test in Valyrian for my last class that I am outrageously unprepared for, and none of you can help me, because I have just witnessed your inane conversation for the past 15 minutes."
She left with a laugh, as the boys all threw their hands to their chests, mock-outraged with their best Southern Belle accents.
Arya found her way to the library, where she proceeded to go through her notes, flipping open her textbook. There was a section at the back that she hadn't gotten to yet, titled Braavosi (Low/Bastard Valyrian), though High Valyrian was spoken through the Free Cities of Essos, Braavos had kept its independence, and its own language, though its roots were in the same as the Old Valyrian of the others. There were many similar words, Arya could plainly see, but as she flicked through the short chapter she noticed a phrase.
"Valar morghulis," she mumbled, reading the words, sounding them out phonetically, matching them with her previous night. "All men must die."
She shuddered at the translation. "Valar dohaeris," she continued, "all men must serve."
Arya sat wondering about the strange interaction, reading that it was a common greeting in the Free Cities, she wondered why she hadn't learned that in any of her classes yet.
Before she had even had a chance to really sink her teeth into her possessive plurals or demonstrative adjectives the bell marking the end of break rang loudly. She sighed deeply, collecting her notebooks with the sinking feeling in her stomach of being woefully underprepared.
The test had been even harder than she had expected, she'd tried her best, but the sections on relative clause verbs and complex compound sentences had her head reeling. She had ended up doodling pictures of wolves in the borders, as she racked her brain for any information she may have overheard that had unknowingly sunk in.
She made her way to the smaller gymnasium, known as the Small Hall, glad to be able to work out her frustration with Syrio Forel at her afternoon dancing lessons.
Syrio was waiting for her as she ran in after changing with her socks slipping down her shins.
"You are late, girl," was all he said by way of greeting.
Arya huffed, disgruntled, "I haven't had a good day Syrio, so I would not suggest making me more annoyed than I already am."
He looked her up and down, "You must learn to clear your head before entering this space, girl. Today we shall not dance."
Arya opened her mouth in protest, but was silence by Syrio as he slapped a wooden stick hard against the hardwood floor, the cracking sound reverberating through the high ceilings.
"There is a cat that is always hanging around, we have named him Balerion, but Qarro has decided that The Black Dread is more appropriate. He has a torn ear, and enjoys chasing birds, he is older than sin, and twice as mean."
"Okay," Arya said, wondering why this cat had anything to do with her, and her lessons.
"You will find this cat, and bring him to me."
Arya scoffed, thinking this a waste of her time. Cats were easy, they'd fall for a scratch between the ears and a belly rub, "Not a problem."
She left the Small Hall, and found that it was still raining outside. The first logical place for her to go was to the kitchens by the refectory, as all the birds outside were sheltered from the rain.
Stalking through the near empty halls, Arya eventually rounded a corner after hearing a meow. There, on top of a row of lockers, sat a big black cat, with a slender build. His left ear was torn, so Arya knew this was the cat she was looking for. She approached slowly, making a soft clicking sound with her tongue and teeth, gaining the cats attention.
The cat watched her with his golden eyes, looking impassive. This is going to be even easier than I thought, Arya thought to herself smugly, as she reached a hand out to the cat.
The cat arched its back, hissing at her, swiping at her outstretched hand, before jumping and running down the corridor quick as a bolt.
The scratch drew blood, and stung. She cursed and chased after the ugly old feline. But as she rounded the corner, she ran into Myrcella Baratheon, knocking the books she was carrying to the ground.
Balerions' tail slunk around the corner and out of sight, as she collected herself.
"Dammit," she cursed to herself quietly, helping collect the books of the young blonde girl in front of her.
"Hey Arya," Myrcella smiled at her, ignoring her cussing.
"Hi Myrcella," Arya said dully. She had met the girl briefly, due to Sansa's infatuation with her worm of a brother.
"Oh my gods," she squealed, grabbing hold of Aryas' wrist, and flipping it over inspecting the wound. "Are you alright? You look absolutely ragged."
"It's nothing it's just a scratch. Listen I've got to go," she quickly ducked out of the conversation and went in the same direction the cat had fled to.
She was walking for another fifteen minutes before she saw the damn thing, perched on a windowsill, licking its paws.
She was quiet as shadow, and light as a feather as she stalked the hall, when she was less than a metre away, the cats ears flicked backwards, and she wasted no time, leaping trying to get hold of the bloody thing. Her knee scraped hard against the red brick wall, leaving a long bloody graze down her shin. The cat managed to claw her along her other arm before getting away again.
She scoured the halls for another twenty minutes without seeing hide nor hair of the beast, before she decided to return to the hall, feeling shame at not being able to catch a simple cat.
Syrio inspected her wounds before tutting, and saying, "So slow? Be quicker, girl. Your enemies will give you more than scratches."
Arya wasn't sure what enemies he was speaking of, but she understood that she wasn't up to scratch. She was dismissed for the day, she took a handful of band-aids, and began applying them liberally to her nicks and scratches.
The graze on her knee was the only thing that really bothered her, it stung whenever she bent her knee to walk, but it wasn't too sharp a pain.
She stepped out of the red keep into the dark afternoon, where the rain had finally come to a stop, only to be replaced by a harsh wind that chilled her, dressed as she was in shorts and a t-shirt.
When she finally got home, after catching an overcrowded bus, and walking three blocks in the quickly encroaching evening, she collapsed onto the couch in the empty living room with a deep sigh.
She had a lot to think about, not to mention a lot to study, that wasn't the last High Valyrian test she was unprepared for, as well as her history class, which she had sort of let fall by the wayside. There was just something incredibly dull about the ancient Great Houses, and the Human Rights Revolution was great, but it's just so tedious to learn about transnational activism and its effects on foreign policy and international law.
"What happened to you?" Sansa asked as she walked in and sat beside her sister, looking at the haphazardly placed plasters that adorned her arms and legs.
"Bastard bloody cat," Arya said simply. The actual explanation sounded ludicrous, so this was going to be as good an explanation as she could give currently.
"Well, let's clean them properly, before you get cat scratch fever."
She led Arya into the kitchen, Arya was still deep in thought as she watched Sansa's hair which had curled slightly from being wet, and left in a bun all day.
Leaning on the kitchen counter was a figure with long curling dark hair, dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a black t-shirt. Grey eyes flashed as Arya met the gaze of her brother Jon.
"Jon!" she screamed, running and jumping on him.
"Whoa, Little Wolf," Jon exclaimed catching her with ease, "none of us are as small as we once were."
She slapped his chest, before telling him to "Shut up." She gripped him tightly, it had been a long time since she had seen her brother, and she had missed him more than words could say.
"Oh, before I forget," he said, dropping her back to the floor, "I have something for you."
"A present?" Arya asked with a sly grin.
Jon presented her with a long thin box, it looked like the kind flowers got delivered in; Arya scrunched her nose at the thought, thinking Jon couldn't possibly be so stupid.
She unwound the twine that held the two halves together with a bow, and saw that inside was a small, slender blade with a leather bound hilt and a conical pommel. It was an elegant little sword, and Arya picked it up in wonder, passing it from hand to hand as she watched the light glint off of the blade.
"It's from Braavos," Jon informed her as he watched her, "they fight with these blades upon the Moon Pool by the Sealord's Palace."
"It's beautiful," Arya said, still watching as the blade reflected the light.
"Okay, but it's not a toy. Be careful you don't cut yourself. And don't let your mother catch you with it, or it'll be both our heads."
"I've missed you," she said to Jon, almost jumping to hug him again, before remembering she was still holding the sword. She placed it down on the table, and gripped him about the waist in another fierce embrace.
"And I've missed you Little Wolf."