Chapter 10: Arya
"I bet you have, haven't you, you saucy minx," grinned Roslin over the wine glass.
Arya nodded.
"And?"
Arya took a sip of wine before countering, "And what?"
"Did you like it?"
"Well, we've had sex six times since then, so…"
Roslin let out a whoop, and Sansa exclaimed "Arya, well done!"
"Hang on, hang on, hang on," said Roslin. "Sheer number of times does not mean that you liked it. It might mean that Gendry's fucking horny and Arya's more compliant in the sack than we thought."
Sansa snorted and Arya rolled his eyes.
"It was just a thought. I'll leave it if you believe it."
"I can't fathom Arya being compliant in bed."
"Thanks, Sansa."
"Anytime, love. What made it happen? Are you in love with him?" There was something hopeful in Sansa's voice, something wistful.
Arya shrugged. "Just felt like it, didn't I?"
"I suppose that'll do it. In any case, a toast," Sansa raised her glass, "to Arya. For all the sex."
"To Arya."
"To me. Now let's talk about Roslin's sex life."
She leaned back in her chair, hoping that it would work.
"I second this. I mean, I hear enough down the hall, but I must know, have you been training Uncle Edmure?"
Roslin blushed.
"Oh-ho! Let's hear about this."
Arya knew better than to sigh in relief. At some point in the past month, she had realized that the best way not to have to talk about things was to comply and then deflect. She had noticed it the week before, when Roslin had employed the tactic perfectly to distract them from her brother's drug overdose. She hadn't been ready to talk about it then, though she had mentioned it that weekend.
And Arya really, really didn't feel like going into the details.
If she shared it, she might dilute it, and she wasn't ready for that—not yet.
She barely listened as Roslin talked happily about sex positions. She was remembering Gendry's thumb on her clit, his lips on her neck, the smell of sweat and cum on his sheets. When she blinked, she could see the way his face would go slack when he came, the slight tilt of his cock to the left, the sensation of his fingers running lines up and down her spine when she lay on his chest.
She wasn't ready to share that with anyone. Not even Gendry, when he asked her what she was thinking in her post-coital haze.
She didn't want to tell anyone that she was already thinking of positions that she wanted to fuck Gendry in. That she was already entertaining the prospect of various toys into their bed—which she had heard from Aurane made everything better.
She didn't want to tell anyone that the look in Gendry's eyes when he saw her naked was something that she never wanted to forget—the raw want tinged with something she was still working out.
She had thought that would scare her. But it didn't.
It turned her on.
It was part of why she and Gendry had had sex three times that first day.
She couldn't even feel annoyed at how sore she felt afterwards. She was used to feeling sore, and sex-sore was better than any other kind of sore.
It was a squeal that brought her attention back to the room.
"And I said that if he wanted that, he'd better go out and find another man for the job."
"You know that's not what he meant right?" grinned Sansa.
"If he wants a threesome, he'd better be open to any kind of threesome. Besides, I've always been curious about double penetration."
Sansa squealed again. Arya almost spat out her wine.
Roslin winked at them.
"Please tell me you told Robb this."
Roslin started laughing now. "Nope. He'd probably have turned purple at the very prospect. Ahh well."
"Stop picturing my brother and uncle in bed with you," commanded Arya.
Roslin took a sip of her wine and winked again.
"Sansa's turn. Any cock in your life?"
Sansa raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry," said Roslin. "It's just that's been the theme for a while now."
"Why do we always end up talking about sex?" asked Sansa.
"Because sex is interesting?"
"Yeah, but I'm not having any, so…"
"How about this. Anyone or anything been on your mind lately?"
Sansa leaned back in her chair, thinking.
"It's funny. I've just realized that I tend not to think about Joffrey unless someone asks me what's on my mind."
"That's great!" exclaimed Roslin.
"Congratulations."
Sansa flushed slightly. "Thanks. It's weird. It feels almost normal. And then I remember him. But it's a different kind of memory from what it used to be like. It's one that's kind of blurry and fuzzy. And I know it's not quite right, you know? I know it's distorted. I can't remember the good things, so I don't feel bad about them, and the bad things don't hurt so much anymore."
"To the healing process," Roslin raised her glass.
"To the healing process." Sansa and Arya raised their own glasses, and all three of them took deep sips.
"Are you still scared?" Arya watched Sansa closely, expecting her to disengage, or at least drink more wine. But her sister met her gaze evenly.
"Less. I think. I don't know. The context is different. I think it's probably still there, but it doesn't consume me."
Arya nodded.
"I think that I'd be more scared if I wanted to date someone. But I don't at the moment."
There was a pause. Then, Roslin asked, "No one?"
Sansa laughed.
"Well, maybe the fine Ned Dayne," she teased.
"Seven hells," said Arya.
Sansa only laughed harder.
"He's got such lovely eyes, Arya. Big and blue and delightful. And that hair!" her voice was sing-songy in a way that Arya hadn't heard in such a long time.
She began laughing too and soon she and Sansa were leaning on each other, hooting away.
"You two are drunk," grinned Roslin.
"Perhaps."
"But the love's real, Roslin. The love's real," announced Sansa, settling back in her chair.