Summary: More than one person becomes jealous.
Gendry
Gendry watched as Arya and her aunt had ridden off towards Winterfell, leaving him stood in the rain with her betrothed. His heart had sunk when the boy had said that word. "Betrothal". He maybe thought Arya had known about this but her lovely silver eyes had completely filled with horror. He had known then that she had nothing to do with the arrangement. She had stepped back away from the Frey in astonishment, her chewed bottom lip quivered. He had read her thoughts easily. She was going to be taken away, frightened and alone while he compelled her to his will. His cruel laugh had made her shudder and he knew what the boy had done in his past. Not to his enemies but to his own family.
There was no doubt in Gendry's mind that Arya had heard what the Frey was capable of and was worried of a repeated history. Frey's were by nature untrustworthy and conspirators known only to side after a battle was won. Suddenly things made sense in Gendry's mind. Lady Catelyn's behaviour storming out of the hall, her aunt Lyanna becoming angry with her father…
He shook his head trying to gather himself and walked away from the Frey. If he didn't he may do something stupid. Besides, he had a purpose here and it was past time it was carried out. As he made his way to the great fortress of Winterfell, Gendry considered the best ways to approach Lord Rickard, Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn.
He hated that he had waited so long, but he had lost track of time. He had spent his every waking moment with Arya; getting to know her, learning her fears, hearing her dreams, sparring and duelling with her in secret. He loved her. Gendry had known deep down for a while.
It was the reason he had come to the North in the first place. He had always been intrigued with Jon's stories and tales, but one in particular had eternally dominated his thoughts for the past ten years. It was his best friend telling him tales of his favourite baby cousin Arya. Before he had arrived, Gendry felt as though he had known the girl for years and he hadn't even laid eyes on her at that point.
He had loved the stories of her fighting and arguing with her parents, stealing Jon's horse to race Bran, melting all of her sewing needles in the forge, trying to burn the dresses that Sansa had made for her. He had laughed at all of them, needing to hear more.
Jon knew of Gendry's growing affection for Arya, as did his mother Lady Lyanna, for it was them that insisted he visit. Now he was here with her and she was going to be taken from him.
Again he felt his fists clench on the reins of the steed. He knew that Arya never showed fear but when she had seen Lord Elmar Waldron Frey she had almost bolted for the trees. He entered the stables, dismounting the horse when Jon came scurrying inside. His dark curled hair hung around his pale face. Gendry frowned.
"Have you heard?" Jon asked, his breath panting slightly.
"Yes. I was there. I heard." He replied, his tone curt.
"Now is the time Gendry. You love her. I know you do." Jon puffed, his breath coming out in a white mist.
"It's too late. It has been arranged Jon." Gendry turned to his dear friend, his expression stricken.
"No its not, that's what I came to tell you." Jon smiled and stepped forward a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "My mother begged Lord Rickard that Arya be given a choice. Not a choice to decline the marriage, but a choice of suitors." His pale grey eyes flashed with hope as a grin stretched across his face. For a moment Gendry couldn't think. Was this really happening?
"Do you really think Arya would choose me?" He asked. Jon laughed at him as if he were being ridiculous.
"Of course she will!"
"I'm not so sure, I haven't been here that long." Truthfully, he had no idea how Arya felt towards him. He didn't even know if she would have let him kiss her. He shouldn't have tried to, but she had just looked so beautiful.
"Gendry have you seen the Frey? He's pathetic."
"The boy is a tyrant." Gendry responded, taking the reins and saddle off the horse.
"Yes exactly. He would break Arya." At the end, Jon's voice became grave and fearful. He couldn't bare the idea that Arya would be worse than beaten and raped too if she was made to marry the Frey. Gendry straightened up and squared his shoulders knowing that at first light he was going to offer his proposal to Lord Rickard and Arya's family.
As it had turned out Lord Rickard wasn't any better and had remained inside his chambers all day. So Gendry wasn't able to offer the betrothal.
He didn't mind all that much as it left him the day to do whatever he liked. Again he decided to spend it with Arya. She thought that Rickon needed more tutoring. However unlike yesterday, she was in a lovely blue gown; much to her irritation. She complained about it constantly getting in the way as she moved around her little brother. He and Bran just laughed.
"For once you look like a lady Arya." Bran had sniggered and she had shot him a warning look. He hadn't stop teasing her about it though. "You even look more like aunt Lyanna today with your hair done nicely and-"
"Shut up. Stupid Septa Mordane ambushed me." Arya growled under her breath and Gendry chuckled. "You think this is funny do you?" She snapped, turning to glare at him. He leaned back against a post and folded his arms. The picture of ease as she her eyes fumed at him. Gendry was about to reply with a 'yes My Lady' as Rickon hit the target close to the centre. He spun and beamed at them. Gendry clapped and smiled at the little lord. Shaggydog barked from his bed of straw as if showing his support.
"Well done Rickon." Bran said softly before releasing his own arrow. It whooshed over the top and stuck into the stone wall behind it. Arya snickered, trying to fight a smile as she bent to stroke Nymeria. "Damn it."
"Do you want me to help you?"
"No."
"Tough I'm going to anyway." She walked past Gendry to grab herself a bow from the armoury. It was long and elegantly curved with intricate wolf carvings near the centre. "Lyanna gave it to me for my sixteenth name-day." Arya said gently, noticing his stare.
"Do your family members have a particular reason for giving you weapons for your name-days?" He asked.
"They know it will serve more good than showering me with trinkets like they did with Sansa. Besides it is only my aunt and cousin that ever had. No-one else approved." Arya rolled her eyes and turned away from him, lining up with Bran who again, missed the target completely.
"Gods, no wonder you can't hit it! Look at how you're standing." Arya tutted and helped Bran get into the right position. "Relax your arm and loosen your grip… good now try it." He concentrated for a moment then the arrow hit the target. "I told you so."
She laughed at her brother, the lovely sound echoing and Gendry grinned, enjoying the sound. He didn't miss the looks that the men of Winterfell gave her either. Appreciation shone in the depths of their eyes as they gazed at her, seeing maybe for the first time how beautiful she was. He was surprised to feel a twinge of anger as he saw some their eyes look more than appreciative.
"Why can't you be like other girls?" Her brother grumbled, lowering his bow to look at Arya who just smirked. Both were oblivious to the staring men around them.
"Don't be stupid Bran; you wouldn't want me to be like them. Besides, Meera Reed isn't particularly ladylike and you never say such things to her." Bran's face heated as he blushed a deep red.
"Shut up Arya." It was the last thing he said before he stopped teasing his sister. A look of smug satisfaction crossed her face. Rickon put his bow down and went up to Arya pulling on her sleeve.
"Can you teach me sword play now?" She smiled at him and crouched.
"I can't, because I'm dressed for it, but I'm sure Gendry wouldn't mind." With that the little lord came over to where he was stood.
"Your Grace will you practise with me?" He asked politely and grinned as Gendry ruffled the boys auburn hair.
"Of course I will." He took the wooden blade from Arya and she handed a shorter one to Rickon. She took hold of Gendry's arm and leaned into him.
"Be gentle with him." She whispered softly, her eyes darting to her brother as he took up a stance opposite. He nodded. He would never hurt six year old Rickon, nor would he use any of his strength against the youngest Stark.
As she slipped past him he took hold of her hand, bringing it to the warmth of his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin. She smiled tenderly at him before stepping back to her brother.
"Rickon, remember what I told you before today. Know what is around you and be careful with your footing." She instructed and he nodded enthusiastically. His bright blue eyes gleamed with love as he gazed up at his sister.
She kissed him on the top of his head and stepped back allowing them enough room for them to circle one another.
Arya
Arya watched with pride as Rickon fought Gendry. Though he was young, he was stubbornly determined. He was fast too but severely inexperienced which made him clumsy. Whenever he made a mistake or stumbled, Gendry would help him up or tell him where he was going wrong. She had asked him to be gentle with her brother and he was obviously obliging. Arya was certain that within the years to come Rickon would become a fierce swordsman. Perhaps even a knight like Bran wanted to be.
"Is Prince Gendry fighting your brother?"
"He's teaching him." Arya corrected, seeing Jeyne Poole come up to stand next to her.
She had never liked the girl though she had been good friends with Sansa. She was too annoying for Arya to bear longer than a few minutes. She glanced at the girl, seeing again how she wore her hair in the Southern style. It was pinned and elegantly coiled on her head and Arya wondered who had done it for her. She was only the daughter of a steward after all and didn't have handmaids; not that it mattered.
Arya wondered if she was trying to impress Gendry who again, paid her no attention at all. Once more he knelt down to explain something to Rickon who frowned and looked lost. Arya quickly stepped forward. She knew that look.
"I think that's enough for today." She said, taking the sword from her brother's hands. His blue eyes were fatigued. If Rickon continued any longer he would become grumpy and bad-tempered. Luckily Arya knew when to stop her brother before he reached breaking point.
"Thank the Gods; Lord Rickon was starting to wear me out." Gendry's sapphire eyes were playful. He wasn't worn out at all.
"No Arya, I'm alright and I want to beat-" The little lord yawned, cutting off whatever protest he was about to give.
"There is always tomorrow Rickon. I'm not going anywhere." Gendry said softly. "Besides I need my strength to battle your sister." Arya chuckled and turned to see Bran coming towards them.
"I'll take him Arya." He offered and towed their brother away to the main castle. He would be fine later once he had eaten and gained some rest. No doubt he would be a bundle of energy tonight at dinner. She turned to Gendry and smiled.
"How do you keep up with him?" He asked sounding slightly drained.
She was about to reply when Jeyne was suddenly there, her presence irritating Arya in a way she had never felt before. She didn't like her being so close to Gendry. It probably wasn't right to feel so angry in such an innocent situation, they were only talking. Yet she saw the way Jeyne's eyes roamed over him slowly, lingering on his mouth. Arya had never really looked at boys in that way and they had returned the favour. So Arya didn't know why she felt so strongly about Gendry. Perhaps it was because of the way he had pinned her beneath him, the way he had almost kissed in the Godswood.
Her hands clenched at the memory. She was frustrated with herself for wanting to be kissed by him and annoyed at Elmar for interrupting. And now she was mad at Gendry for talking to someone else. Gods what's wrong with me? Arya asked herself. She couldn't focus on anything today, hence why she had refused to teach Rickon. It wasn't her dress. She didn't care about ruining it at all like she had pretended. It was Gendry's fault. Stupid Prince. She thought again, looking up at him. Stupid with his handsomeness and irritating charm. He's a stupid bull-headed boy.
Arya wasn't paying attention to their conversation as she excused herself and headed for the Weirwood tree, the only thing that gave her solace when she had nowhere else to go. She made it without fuss, allowing Nymeria to curl at her feet as she sat beneath the blood red leaves. It was lovely under the trees, their soft rustling as the wind blew through them. The muted sunlight shone through the gaps, causing beams of light to hit the forest floor.
The water in front of her rolled slightly with the light breeze and she turned her eyes to the bleeding red face in the tree. Its empty eyes stared back at her, unfazed and untouched by time. It was almost surprising to think that the face used to scare her as a child. Now all she felt was a calm spreading through her as she looked at it, a peace.
She wasn't sure what to ask the Old Gods as she had so many questions buzzing in her head. But she didn't need to. She was sure that they could sense her inner turmoil and were answering her with the gentle noises of the wood. She now understood why her father came here so often when he needed to think. Nothing could compare to it. Here she could be free to show any emotion she liked without the fear of being yelled at or judged. She could scream or cry or laugh and the Old Gods would let her.
Arya pressed back into a tree beside the pond and continued to gaze at the face feeling Nymeria lounge on the ground next to her. Absently she stroked the thick fur and let her eyes drift close.