Chapter 7

The armoury consisted of a small out building of grey stone and dark, knotty wood. The door creaked loudly on the old, iron hinges and Arthor Karstark had to vigorously kick at the small drift that had built up in order to get through. Still, Arya was happy to be in from the cold when they entered. Her furs blocked some of the chill and Gendry did a fair job blocking the rest but she wasn't quite warm. She'd spent too long across the narrow sea lounging in the heat and the scorching sun. The snows were never so deep in her childhood memory, nothing but soft summer snows and small summer storms, if they could be called so. Nan used to call them flurries.

All along the walls was steel. Not particularly good steel, noted Gendry under his breath but loud enough for her to hear. Arya ignored his muttering though because in a room within were the most beautiful glittering blades she'd ever seen. They were long and short, wide and thin, thick and slight. Each one had a different curve, no two the same. Some were jagged and splintered at the ends, some as smooth and sharp as her father's greatsword, Ice.

"Do you know how dragonglass is made, Ser Jaime?" Arthor Karstark was standing beside a rack of, what looked like, small dirks made of the obsidian glass with cloth and leather wrapped handles.

"You know, I don't think I do. Something to do with dragons I'm sure.

"I do." All eyes turned to Gendry, his voice had been clear and soft. "Lord Tyrion, the Hand, told me." Arya smiled at the awe in his eyes as his fingers slide along the edge of a splintered dagger,his dirty nail catching on a crack down the center.

"Out with it then," said Jaime with an impatient laugh. "My brother knows many things and if he told you how dragonglass was made then he told it true."

"Same as regular glass really only instead of sand and ash, you make it with stone and ash. It can be poured, coloured, and shaped as it cools into whatever you'd make it and after it can be cut. Dragons breathe is so hot it burns sand before glass could even be made. When a dragon breathes on building stone, that's already mixed with ash and wood, it melts, charring 'til it's black and when it cools you get dragonglass."

He shook his head then, to uncover his eyes and Arya couldn't help but think his coal dark hair was as black as the dragonglass he was in such awe of. Red heads she thought, like the whore Theon used to favor, have hair they say is kissed by fire. But no, truly kissed by fire hair should be dark as ash and pitch. It should be dark as Gendry's.

"It takes months to cool and the men of Valyria were the only men who knew how to shape it properly. Most on Westeros cooled too quickly and shattered. That's why the blades are irregular." Said Lord Karstark, nodding approvingly. "Lord Tyrion does know his history. Did you memorize that?"

"I was interested, m'Lord."

Lord Karstark nodded again and inclined his head toward Gendry before walking towards the wall and gesturing at a fragmented dirk that looked as though it was shattered and put back together. "The stones that made much of this dragon glass were once great towers, holdfasts, and keeps during the year Aegon the first took the Realm as his own. The dragons that forged these blades with their deadly breath were the feared Vhagar, Meraxes, and Balerion the Black Dread. Never before and never since has so much dragon fire flowed over our lands."

Arya let her fingers slide across the wood of the wall beside her. The dragonglass looked sharp and she tried to distract herself from touching it by fingering the hem of her tunic. The inky glass glittered in the dim and she was sorely tempted to try her hand at one of the thinner daggers. They reminded her of needle. Her first sword and most treasured. Her fingers itched to dance along the edges of the myriad blades on the wall. She longed to test the weight and the balance, to spin and thrust and dance. She would have smoky and sharp dragonglass for a hand, an arm, an extension of herself. They were mesmerizing.

Her hand reached out towards the handle of the blade nearest to her, slyly she let her fingers trip over the cloth hilt of the dagger and her fingers wrapped around it. Gendry's warm hand rested on her fingers and she stilled. When she turned he raised and eyebrow before he shook his head and tilted it towards the still speaking Lord Karstark. Gendry had been partially blocking her from being seen but now he'd shifted, threatening to reveal her to the party. Arya scowled and with a sly laugh stepped on his foot.

Gendry grunted and snatched his foot back. Arya giggled but stopped short when she saw that they had garnered some unwanted attention.

"Ser?" Brienne, as tired as she must be, turned to Gendry with concern on her face. "Are you hurt, did you cut yourself?"

Arya watched as the back of the knight's neck flushed the colour of Dornish Red and Gendry apologized to the Maid of Tarth. "No m'lady. I had a pain, in my back. It's nothing to worry over, m'lady."

"Back pain? It looked to me you favored your foot." Jaime smirked at Arya and she ducked her head but shot him a quick smile in return. She returned her attention to Lord Karstark, grudgingly.

"The blades are sharp, as you know, sharper than any steel, Valyrian or otherwise. If you are cut with a dragonglass blade the cut will be deep and heal slow but there will be no scar. Maester's think it is because it cuts so smoothly there are no torn edges on the wound." Arya stared in awe. "These can just as easily gut a goose as take an Auroch's head off so you'd best treat them with care."

He lifted one of the larger, longer, blades off its resting place and handed it to Ser Jaime, who took it up with his good hand.

"Thank you Lord Karstark. It is very generous of you to open your armoury to us. I think 4 blades shall be sufficient. That is one for me, one for Ser Gendry here to accompany his hammer, and one each for our fair maids." Arya groaned along with the Lady Brienne, but stayed quiet as Ser Jaime continued on. "Ser Balman has expressed an interest in a battle axe if you would be willing to oblige him we would be grateful."

Lord Karstark nodded and led Jaime back towards the front of the armoury, leaving Arya and her companions to choose their own weapons. Personally, Arya didn't want to have to use the dragonglass. One encounter with wights was more than enough. Still, the blades were enticing and she endeavored to make her decision wisely. She was careful not to cut herself on the many sharp edges but she still very gently tested each one she weighed. The balance of dragonglass was nothing like she ever felt before. They were not heavy enough by far. She slithered up beside Gendry as he examined a rack of longer, leather hilted weapons. They were not so long as swords but longer than any of the knives she had tested.

"I do not like the weight." He looked left to her before nodding.

"Nor do I, they are too light. They need something to counter the extra weight in the hilt, like a core." Arya smiled at him as he thought. He still wore a pained expression on his face whenever he was thinking. She'd seen it so much on him lately she worried for his health. Laughing she took his arm, trying to draw him back.

"You could do it you know, now that the queen has dragons. You could find a way to core the dragonglass, build proper swords from it." His eyes became deadly serious then, blue as she ever saw them and steadied on her own.

"No, I would have to be in Dorne or Kings Landing for that. I won't go back to the Street of Steel. I would go with you once this is all over, if you'd have me. You'll stay in the North, won't you?"

She was momentarily stunned. She'd hoped but had tried not to hope too hard. He had left her, after all. She'd wanted him to stay and he'd left her and then she'd been taken away. At the time she'd thought she'd never see him again. After the Red Wedding she'd thought she'd never see another friendly face again and now he was taking her to her family and wanted to come along. Gendry had followed her from Harrenhal, protected her identity from Hot Pie and the others even after they found out she was a girl, he'd looked for her after the Hound stole her away, and he'd intended to avenge her by traveling all the way to Winterfell just to get himself locked up in a cell with only a gaoler for a friend. Lucky she'd gotten to him before he'd made that mistake. The Hound would have had his head if the guards hadn't locked him up first. She knew he would follow her now all the way into the North which, once she thought about it, had always been what she wanted.

Arya smiled at him and Gendry smiled back.

A banner of black with a brilliant white sunburst in the center, the sigil of House Karstark, flapped against the wall noisily as the troupe made it back to the main castle. Each in the party carried a dragonglass blade gingerly on their person. Arthor suggested boiled leather to carry them in and each member had a blade or two that could go without.

Ser Jaime and the Lady Brienne were in good spirits, it appeared to Arya, and sat by the fire drinking mulled cider and talking. Brienne had abandoned her blanket and was merrily laughing at Ser Jaime's impression of his brother, the Imp. Ser Alyn, with his new found drinking buddies was challenging Lord Perringer to a contest of strength as Lady Perringer watched on unamused. Instead she and Lady Karstark expounded on the barbaric tendencies of men.

Arya set about convincing Troilus and Aabed to come to her and Gendry's chambers to attempt to teach him how to play Cyvasse. It didn't take long and once she had them involved it was only a matter of time before Gendry agreed, if only just to please her. The four of them grabbed their mugs of mead and went on their way. They had only a marginal rate of success however. He had a good head for battle but a bad memory for the pieces and Arya had to point out which ones he could use for which moves. As a team the two did alright but were repeatedly and very soundly beaten by the foreign duo. For lunch they had honeyed capon and dark ale. The ale had a taste that reminded her of nights in Winterfell. Her father would let her, Bran and Sansa each have one cup with dinner. Never more although sometimes Arya would sneak sips out of Jon's cup. Today she snuck sips from Gendry's whenever he wasn't looking, much to Ser Jaime's amusement. The older knight watched them often and Arya did her best to ignore it. When he wasn't he was watching Lady Brienne with this sort of concerned, sour look. The Lady, for her part, kept saying she felt fine but he kept asking anyway.

Arya was still finding it difficult to divide the Kingslayer, the man who killed Jory, from Ser Jaime. Occasionally all she could see behind his smirk was the man who had ordered the death of her father's household guard. A man who stabbed the king he had pledged to protect and stood by at the death of her Uncle and Grandfather. Just as easily Arya could forget they were the same person. It happened when he would remark on Gendry's health or when he watched to make sure she was enjoying herself. The way he worried himself over Brienne and argued with Ser Balman about the advantage of Valyrian steel versus dragonglass and whether or not shields are truly useful in battle.

She agreed with Ser Balman, shields are dead weight.

She confided this to Gendry two mornings after their trip to the armoury. They'd settled into a comfortable routine and were lying in bed, both pretending not to be awake so they didn't have to rise. Arya was on her stomach with an arm loosely thrown across Gendry's chest. He was on his back with one arm over his face and the other rested on his stomach, his fingers twitching against the fine hairs on her arm every few minutes. She spoke as loudly as she dared in the quiet of the morning. The hearth fire had been stoked in the night so her skin was pleasantly warm and her voice was thick and slow.

"Do you think about Ser Jaime ever?" She knew he was awake but it took him a moment to answer her.

"What do you mean?" His voice was just as thick with sleep, and low. Lower than she'd ever heard it.

"Do you ever think about Ser Jaime before the war?"

After a beat he responded. "No. Do you?"

"He killed people you know, good people."

"You killed people." He turned to look at her, his pupils large and black against the bright blue of his eyes. His long lashes brushed against his cheek as he blinked and Arya quickly tried counting them. She couldn't.

"So did you. The people he killed-they," she wasn't sure how to continue but she forged on, "I knew them. Sometimes I think about Jory." She turned on her side to look at him, really look at him. "He was my favorite, he always watched over me. He died trying to protect my father and Ser Jaime killed him."

His brows dipped down and his mouth thinned. "The Kingslayer I was told about is nothing like the Ser Jaime I know. I would follow him into battle. That's all I need to know."

"Jory was Beth's father."

"Who's Beth?"

"Lady Karstark. She was Beth Cassel, she was Jory's daughter." Gendry sobered.

"I didn't know. Does he know?"

Arya shook her head, "I didn't even know. She knew me but I doubt she knows what happened to her father. So many people died."

"That was why, that morning at the breakfast table when she said she knew you, I just thought you told her." He was smiling slightly as he finished. "I meant to yell at you about it."

She laughed and shoved at him. He sighed. "You're not being very lady like Arya of House Stark. It's the Kings Road all over again." He closed his eyes and covered them with his forearm. He couldn't cover his grin though.

"I'm not a lady!" He laughed outright when she shoved him again, harder.

"Maybe not, but you're still small and you're still a pain in my ass, I was half right." Arya clicked with her tongue behind her teeth and she narrowed her eyes but she didn't shove him off the bed. She liked being reminded of the Kings Road, of their shared past. It helped her to remember she wasn't completely alone.

"Practice yard?" She hopped up and out of bed, her bare feet making hardly a sound on the dry reeds. Jaqen H'Ghar had said smart girls went barefoot. She smiled slyly at her companion. His torso was bare, as he was wont to sleep nude and being that he was sharing a bed with a lady he felt a loose pair of breeches more appropriate. Arya said a tunic would do if it bothered him but he blushed and insisted he wouldn't.

Gendry groaned but agreed, "practice yard," all the same.

They spent their spare time, which was pretty much all their time save what they spent taking lunch and dinner or speaking with the Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime about travel plans, in the practice yard. It was mostly left to them being that the previous castle guests had left the day before. Farewells were said and she promised to find Troilus and Aabed just as soon as their party arrived at the castle. Troilus and Aabed in return promised to keep her identity a secret once they reached Winterfell. Arya and Gendry had a few days to themselves since their party was set to leave three days hence. Maester Pierce felt that Brienne would be well enough for travel by then. Ser Wyl it was officially decided, would travel with the Karstark's retinue.

While Arya got dressed Gendry went to the kitchens and gathered them food to break their fasts. She was braiding her hair when he came back into the room, her back was to him but she could see him in the mirror. It afforded her a chance to watch him watch her. She caught his gaze and smiled. When she turned around he looked thoughtful.

"I haven't said but, it's strange seeing your hair long."

Arya scoffed, her hair was not long, just to her shoulders. She told him so and he shrugged.

"Longer than I've ever seen it." He tossed her an apple and they headed out.

Gendry swung hard and fast and his war hammer cut the air above her as Arya rolled her body sideways. She spun and thwacked his back with her practice sword. She was fast enough to evade his hammer but not his arm as he reached out and grabbed a strong hold of her.

They had been at this for nigh on four hours by then. They'd decided to practice in the stables since the snows last night had made it impossible to clear the yard. The doors where closed to keep out the cold and the smell of fresh hay and horses was thick. This afternoon they had been pretty evenly matched. Half the time Gendry's strength won and the other half Arya's speed won. The rest of the time they called a draw, which was what this situation was about to be.

Gendry had much improved since she'd last seen him and his smooth muscles from working a forge had grown considerably in her absence. Still, he was bigger than her and therefore slower. She bit her lip as he smiled down at her. "I win M'lady. If this were the battlefield I could do with you as I willed."

In a fit of pique Arya swept her leg across the ground and toppled Gendry. Unfortunately it toppled her too. They landed in a heap on the floor laughing. Arya made a grab for his war hammer but he quickly held it out of reach. She struggled in his grip to grab for it. Her chest heaving with giggles as she stretched. Gendry, one hand above his head and one around her waist wasn't much better. He could hardly hold her for how hard he was laughing at her struggle. He knew in this close proximity she was at the disadvantage. She wriggled in his grip like a fish. With a frustrated growl he flipped them over to cage Arya beneath him.

"I win!" He laughed as she struggled in vain to move him. She desperately tried to knee him but he'd made sure she couldn't reach. "Admit it, I win!"

"You have not you stupid!" She was weaseling her hand to her hip and hopefully the hilt of her dirk when he caught her wrist. His war hammer lay forgotten above their heads.

"M'lady."

A startled, "What?" was all she managed to get out before he pressed his lips to hers.

Arya melted into the kiss and the weight of him on her. She'd not known how she felt until this moment but when she felt his tongue slip across her bottom lip she was sure. She wanted him for her own. His mouth was warm and wet and tasted of apple and cinnamon as his tongue wrapped around hers. She snaked a hand up into his hair and she felt his thumb sweep across her cheek before he jerked away from her. His pupils were big and black and his cheeks were ruddy as he breathed deeply through his nose. He sat up and stood. She knew how she must look and took not a moment to be embarrassed. Why should she?

"Gendry-"

She was cut off before she had a chance to finish by the bull-headed bastard boy before her. "M'lady, I, Ser Jaime wanted to speak with me. I'll see you tonight." He was already on his way out before the sentence was finished.

With a sigh Arya fell back in the hay. Stupid bull. She felt a heat, like a burning spread through her and she resolved to finish that kiss. She would wait up for him all night if she had too.