A/N: This is it guys. The big one.
X-X
Arya slumped in her chair, eyes drooping.
Her father and mother were sitting off to the side of her raised dais, wearing identical sober expressions, and almost all the household from Winterfell – save Harwin and a few men still out spreading the news –were lining the walls of the audience chamber watching the events with eager eyes.
Men had been parading before Arya for over an hour – second-born sons, impoverished lords and grasping widowers. She'd heard claims the helm shaped like a wolf, trout, sea shell, bird, skull, flower and the old gods knows what else until she wanted to scream.
She'd almost ended it all and told her parents the truth about who she was looking for, but found herself hoping that the Bull might still come.
Because truthfully, watching lord after lord feeding her lies without a glimmer of guilt or regret, had only made her more determined to find the Bull.
He may have lied as well but he hadn't tried to use her. He'd pretended to be someone else, but then done nothing but support and stand by her, unlike these men who'd steal her whole future based on a lie to help themselves.
So, Arya pulled herself up and carried on.
Sansa sailed into the chamber only a couple of men later, her face paler than usual after a late night of dancing, but her hair prettily arranged and courtesies as polished as ever. Arya avoided her gaze – she didn't want Sansa's opinion on any of this. Knowing her sister, she'd find it wonderfully romantic until she discovered what sort of man Arya was truly searching for and her cooing turned to a disgust.
As the hour worn on, other curious onlookers arrived to see how her search was going including Sansa's husband Willas Tyrell; Joffrey's uncle Tyrion Lannister and most shockingly of all King Robert himself. Servants rushed to get him a seat beside Ned and Catelyn while he joked about needing to see his Ned's wild daughter taken care of.
Arya stared him, her pulse racing – this was the Bull's father. The man who'd allowed his own son to be degraded and abused because he couldn't be bothered to argue with his wife.
Of course, Arya thought bitterly, why bother yourself for the sake of a bastard?
"Your grace," Jory called, jerking her back to attention. "Are you ready to continue?"
The next guess was yet another wolf-shaped helm and wryly Arya wondered what all these lords would do they knew the man they were pretending to be normally scrubbed hall floors not danced on them.
At last the trail of men petered out and Arya closed her eyes, a mixture of relief and disappointment washing over her. She had to tell her parent's the truth now, if she could just make it sound like –
"Um, there is one more your grace." Jory said from the door, sounding uncomfortable. Arya looked up, concerned.
Joffrey sauntered into the chamber, gesturing impatiently to his guards. Cersei followed behind him, clearly having just woken up and doing a worse job than Sansa of hiding it.
"What are you doing?" Cersei hissed at her son. "We have bigger things to worry about than this Stark girl."
"Believe me mother you'll want to me here for this." Joffrey said, smirking at Arya, his green eyes glinting. Arya stiffened, foreboding creeping down her spine.
"Prince Joffrey." She said curtly.
He smirked wider. "Princess Arya. I heard you promised to marry the man this famed helm belonged to. The one from the ball?"
What game was he playing? "I did." Arya said flatly. "However, I can assure you that man isn't you your grace."
"Oh really?" He taunted. "Not big and…bull-headed enough for you?"
Arya's breath caught. He knew.
But of course he did, she realised. Joffrey had seen them last night and he was the Bull's brother so he knew the name and perhaps even about the helmet as well. And unfortunately, Joffrey was intelligent enough to piece everything together.
Cersei clearly understood as well, her face flooding white and eyes flaring. She gestured to one of the guards.
"Check the bastard's room immediately." She ordered, and Arya frowned. Was the Bull still in his room? Was Cersei keeping him there?
"So," Joffrey said, dragging Arya's attention back. "How does this work? I tell you the shape of your helm and we call a septon to marry us here and now?"
"Don't toy with me." Arya snapped. "Have your jape and leave."
"Arya." Her father said warningly. "Treat the Prince with respect.
"I think I should be allowed to guess like all the other men." Joffrey continued, still smirking. "After all – you promised."
Arya gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay quiet and Joffrey took it as permission to carry on taunting her.
"Now let me see…" He drawled, "Could it possibly be – a bull's head?"
Silence fell over the room – Joffrey grinning madly and Cersei now smirking as well, enjoying the game as much as her son. All the Northerners looked horrified.
Fury burned through Arya's veins, but she schooled her features to stop it showing, keeping her face smooth and calm.
The Lannisters wanted to play this game? They should know they'd be facing Arya Stark and the wolf-blood of the North. She drew herself up and met Joffrey's gaze.
"Why, my prince," she gasped loudly. "You're right!"
Her father half-rose of his seat, frowning but Arya shook her head at him, praying he and her mother would stay back. Deliberately, she bent down and extracted the helmet from the sack with a flourish, revealing the bull's head for all to see. Joffrey leered at her, licking his lips.
"But of course," she said sweetly. "If this is truly your helm then it must fit you as well. Try it on." She held it out.
Joffrey hesitated, some of the mirth fading from his face. "I – I, uh…"
Idiot, Arya thought scornfully, do you really think I'm that stupid?
"Go on then," she prompted. "Try your helmet on."
"I don't see how this is necessary." Cersei cut in. "My son says it's his helm, why would he lie?"
"Exactly." Joffrey nodded and paused. "Now tell me, so I know when I deflower you – do you Northern girls act like wolves in bed as well?"
A rumble of anger swept through the Northern courtiers and servants, Jory stepped forward, hand going to his scabbard and even King Robert's face darkened. "Be careful boy," he threatened. "You do not address Princess Arya in that way."
Arya just rolled her eyes. As if you truly want to marry me anyway. This is about humiliation. But a wolf in your bed isn't what you need to worry about.
"Amusing." She said dryly. "But, I keep my vows. And –" She raised her voice so the whole hall could hear. "I vow that if King Robert's son fits this helm then I'll marry him – I swear it, before all these witnesses, by the old gods and the new."
Cersei and Joffrey's faces went slack, eyes darting around the hall. I've got you now.
"Arya." Her father said urgently. "Arya, what are you doing?"
"Trust me." She whispered, and held the helm out.
"Go on then my Prince."
Mutinously, aware of every eye upon him and Arya's vows hanging in the air, Joffrey took the helm and slotted it on in his head. As expected, it dwarfed him, slipping over his eyes and sliding off one side of his head, making him look like a child at play. Tyrion Lannister laughed out loud at the sight, making many of the onlookers to follow suit. Joffrey ripped off the helmet and threw it Arya's feet, face flushed with humiliation and rage. "You fucking wolf bitch!" He spat.
"Joffrey!" King Robert thundered. "How dare you!"
Arya shrugged. "It's alright your grace. As I said, I keep my promises – and I vowed to marry the King's son who fitted the helm." She paused, meeting the King's gaze. "So, I say all your grace's sons deserve the chance to try it."
Her father spoke, voice tight. "Arya, if Joffrey didn't fit the helm, then Tommen certainly won't."
"I know." Arya said quietly, still watching King Robert. "But does his grace have any other sons to try?"
The King flushed, sudden realisation and shame flooding his expression. But before he could answer, Cersei stepped forward, her whole body shaking with fury. "He has no other sons!"
"Yes, he does." A weary voice sounded from the back of the hall.
Arya and the court whirled around, and there – his face bruised and scratched, dressed in a faded tunic with a ragged sack slung over his back, but strong and tall and true – stood the Bull.
"He does." The Bull repeated, standing in the doorway, beside Harwin.
Carefully, shoulders stiff under the pressure, he walked through the crowd, ignoring every stare upon him, keeping his eyes fixed on Arya. She held her breath, unable to look away.
At least he reached the foot of the dais, guilt playing across his face. "Your grace," he said, quiet but clear. "I'm a bastard." And she knew his words were meant for her. "And a servant. I don't have a name or a House or a lordship or anything to offer. But if you're looking for a King's son then that – that I can claim." He glanced at Cersei, "No matter how much people deny it."
"How – how did you escape?" Cersei spat, "Guards, take him at once!"
Her men lurched forward, but King Robert stood, gesturing them back. "What is the meaning of this woman?"
Cersei wheeled on him. "What this means, is that your bastard humiliated our son! He squired for that cursed mystery knight and then refused to reveal his identity to me!"
King Robert frowned, looking down at the Bull. "Is this true?"
He nodded and Arya thought the scratches on his face seemed to throb in the light. "Yes. Her grace came to me yesterday and threatened to send me to the black cells if I didn't tell her the mystery's knight's identity."
Arya's chest squeezed, guilt tightening around her throat. Tortured? She glanced at the Bull, and yet he wouldn't tell? She eyed his bruised and scarred face, fists clenching. Did he care so much that he'd risk the Queen's torture to protect her?
Her father glanced between her and the Bull, understanding dawning on his face. Inwardly Arya groaned, realising her father had worked out how she'd met the Bull.
But her father looked at King Robert instead. "Does her grace normally punish your son for actions such as these?"
"You know how women are about natural children." Robert said, squirming. "They overreact."
Ned Stark nodded, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Arya thought of Jon, and what her father would have done if Catelyn Stark had raised so much as a single hand at his son. But Ned didn't say anything more to Robert, turning to the Bull instead. "You squired for the mystery knight?" He asked sternly.
The Bull dipped his head. "Yes, your grace."
Her father frowned, eyes flickering to Arya. "But you refused to give up their name?"
"Yes, your grace."
"Why? And look at me when you speak."
The Bull raised his head, meeting his father's gaze straight on. Arya wondered if the Bull realised her father knew Arya was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. "I wanted to protect them. I didn't want them to get hurt."
"Even though you endangered yourself doing so?"
"I vowed to keep their secret." He said simply. "And I intended to keep to that. They didn't deserve to be punished for a simple joust."
Her father stared at him a moment longer and then nodded. "That was an honourable act."
"Honourable?" Cersei spluttered. "That knight committed treason! He –"
"Can we continue?" Arya snapped, worried the Bull would be dragged off before she got a chance to say anything. "We're here to see if he fits the helm, not put him on trial. We can argue over guilt later."
Hopefully when I can offer more of a defence, she added mentally, wondering if offering to marry him was actually going to help against Cersei.
Even so, Arya stood and picked up the bull's helmet from the floor where Joffrey had thrown it and walked towards the Bull, the metal cool in her hands. Stopping before him, she realised her legs were shaking. She offered the helm to him. "You – you can try it. If you want."
The Bull gazed back at her, expression still twisted in guilt and doubt. "Even if I'm just a bastard servant?" He asked, and she heard the apology for every lie between them. Arya took a deep breath.
"Especially if you're just a bastard servant." She said quietly.
Awe shone in his blue eyes, and Arya wondered if she'd ever really seen him smile before. Then he bent down one knee, bowing his head to her. "I – I would be honoured."
Slowly and delicately as it were a garland of flowers, Arya placed the helmet on his head – it slotted on perfectly.
"It fits." She said and it seemed the two words echoed to every corner of the room. Murmurs rippled across the hall and Cersei swayed in place.
The Bull stood, chin high, helmet gleaming in the light, looking every inch a prince. Arya's chest burned with something fierce and uncontrollable, fire coursing through her veins. He gazed at her and his expression took her breath away.
"I have something to give her as well." He said and reached into his bag, pulling out a crown of crumpled blue roses. "You left this behind your grace."
She stared at the crown, gently stroking the battered petals and back at his blue eyes. Then, for the first time since Arya could remember, she curtseyed willingly, dipping her head to him.
Of course he understood and, surprisingly gently for such big hands, placed the crown on her head, fingers trembling a little against her hair. Arya straightened, facing his warm smile.
"The Queen of Love and Beauty." He said softly, eyes crinkling. "Now do you believe me?"
She rolled her eyes and punched him to hide her flushing cheeks. "Shut up stupid."
"As you say m'lady."
"Don't call me my lady!"
He grinned, opening his mouth to reply, when Cersei cut across them.
"No." She snapped. "No. I will not let this happen." She turned to her husband, "Your grace – putting aside this, this farce – your bastard disobeyed a royal command and plotted to harm the trueborn Prince! I will not let this stand! And I have those in court who will agree with me."
The King went from irritated to worried, scratching at his stomach and gaze darting around the room like cornered prey.
Arya was about to scream out loud when she caught sight of the Bull's bag, the outline of a shield bulging against the material. She made a decision. "King Robert," she announced loudly, making sure everyone could hear. "I think your son has something else that belongs to me."
The Bull glanced at the sack and back at her, scowling as he realised what she going to do.
"No." He denied. "No, I don't. I won't."
She grabbed his hand, feeling his callouses against her own. "I'm not letting you take the blame alone stupid."
"But –"
"We're both part of this. And I won't let you be punished for what I did."
Still reluctant, the Bull bent down and pulled out the shield, the sack falling away to reveal the sigil of the Laughing Tree. He passed it to her and Arya hooked it onto her arm, raising her chin. A gasp spread round the room, even some of the Northern servants looking shocked.
Arya heard Joffrey screech in fury and Cersei gasped. "You?" She hissed, stalking towards Arya. "You."
Instinctively, the Bull stepped forward as if to shield her, but Arya was already moving to stand in front of him.
"Yes." She admitted baldly. "Me."
Cersei's face flushed red, mottling with rage and her green eyes took on a crazed look. "That's not allowed!" She shrieked. "You did not really defeat Joffrey, women cannot enter jousts! I demand a rematch!"
"Alright," Arya shrugged. "And if you do that I'll tell everyone why a rematch was needed and who beat him the first time."
"You wouldn't." Cersei snapped. "You'd be humiliated forever and the stain on your reputation would never fade."
"Maybe." Arya said. "But the stain wouldn't be as big as the one his reputation." She looked at Joffrey who was turning purple. "Is that how you want to be remembered? Being defeated by a woman?"
Obviously unable to hold back anymore, Joffrey let out a scream, drawing his sword and lunging at her – Arya blocked the stroke with her shield, barely in time to stop the blade slicing her neck and the Bull jumped forward, shoving his brother away from her. Screams erupted round the room, half the Northern servants rushing forward and even Arya's parents leapt to their feet.
"ENOUGH!" Robert bellowed. "Enough! This is madness!"
Catelyn strode over to Arya and the Bull. "Are you alright?" She asked Arya, cupping her cheek and scanning her for injuries. Arya nodded wordlessly, stomach turning.
Meanwhile her father approached Robert, taking on that hard-eyed flinty that belonged to King in the North, not old friend Ned Stark. Robert squirmed in his seat, grimacing.
"Your son just attacked my daughter." Ned said coldly. "I don't need to remind you the cost of royal blood drawing steel against each other."
"Your daughter tried to murder Joffrey." Cersei spat back. "And that bastard committed treason helping her!"
"Oh, for god's sake woman!" King Robert snapped. "Murder? Treason? It was a joust. Woman aside she didn't intend to hurt him and there's no law against the boy squiring for her! They unhorsed Joffrey fair and squarely." He glanced at Ned as if for approval. "And after Joffrey's display against Princess Arya, you and your son are in no place to argue anything."
Cersei and Joffrey stared at him, fury building in their eyes. Arya pulled herself together, grabbing the Bull's hand again.
"Is it agreed?" She asked, raising her voice. "The Knight of the Laughing Tree can be put aside. No one will suffer for it."
There was a moment of silence, everyone in the room waiting to see what the Lannisters would do.
"Oh, I have seen enough of the both of you." Cersei sneered. "Go back to the North and rot or freeze I do not care. But I want you out of my court."
"And let it be the last we see of you bastard." Joffrey added.
Arya and the Bull glanced at each other, shrugging. "Nothing would please us more." Arya said.
Still looking venomous, the Queen and Crown Prince stalked from hall, golden heads glinting and guards following behind them. The crowd seemed to exhale in unison.
The Bull squeezed Arya's hand and they turned to face the two Kings – their fathers gazing at them as if they'd seen at them a ghost. King Robert's eyes lingered on Arya's crown, while Ned was fixed on the shield still hooked over her arm.
"Your graces – can we have a moment?" The Bull asked. "We will explain everything. I just want to talk to Ar – Princess Arya first."
King Robert nodded, seeming still shaken. "There's a lot to talk about." He said, unusually sober. "Come to me after you're done and we'll discuss matters."
Ned nodded as well, expression thoughtful. "And I'd like to speak to you Arya – but you may take a minute."
"Thank you, your grace." The Bull bowed.
Ignoring the stupefied crowd, Arya tugged the Bull's hand and led him behind the dais, ducking into the room connected to the audience chamber. She shut the door behind them.
Immediately the Bull turned to her, his eyes clouded with guilt. "I'm sorry," He said intensely. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about who I really was to begin with, I'm sorry I lied. I'm so sorry for everything. You deserved better. I know you did – I never meant to hurt you."
Arya smiled, the last fraction of doubt dropping away, certainty settling in her heart.
"It's alright." She said honestly. "I mean – I wish you'd told me the truth. I wish you'd trusted me, and I don't like that you thought who you were would change what I think of you. But, after hearing everything with you and Cersei and Joffrey and what you've gone through – I understand why you did it."
The Bull exhaled in relief, shoulders slumping. "Thank you." He paused. "What happened in there – you vowed to find the King's son, before I told you who I was. You knew?"
"Only since this morning." Arya said. "After how you acted last night and – well a few other things. I suspected you weren't who you said you were. Actually, I thought you were a smith so I went to talk to Tobho and he told me everything. So, I knew what I was promising."
The Bull nodded but still looked troubled. "And you truly don't mind? I meant what I said before: I'm a servant, a bastard, I have nothing to offer you. I grew up in Flea Bottom and have been a servant since Robert claimed me. The most I have hoped was to train as a smith. I'm no fit match for a Princess." He said it plainly, but his fingers twitched against hers as if stopping himself from holding her hand tighter.
Arya ignored him and squeezed as tightly as she could. "I wouldn't have cared." She said vehemently. "I never would have cared. Of course, it would have made life a bit easier." She admitted wryly. "Knowing all this from the beginning instead of having to face Cersei and Joffrey now. But I wouldn't have cared if you'd told me you were a bastard from the very first. All the best boys are bastards." She traced the bulls helmet still on his head. "It wouldn't have changed anything. I still would have chosen you." She swallowed. "And – and I'm sorry too."
"What?" The Bull looked staggered, "what – what could you possibly have to be sorry about? After – after everything you just did, how could you even…"
"I'm sorry after all this, you didn't end up with much of a choice." Arya answered. "Everything happened so fast, I didn't get a chance to ask what you wanted." She bit her lip. "If you even want to marry me at all."
He blinked, "What?"
She swallowed, forcing the words out. "I know you want to choose who you marry. And I know you want to marry for love. Not just for money or status or a title, but because you want the woman. And not many men want a woman like me. So, if – if you don't want…I understand. Truly. You don't have to marry me. You can leave and become a smith anywhere, I can find a position for you. Or travel – or – or any of that, I didn't mean to force you –"
"Stop." The Bull cupped her cheek, his eyes damp. "Let me be very clear. I want you. I'd want you as a Princess and I'd want you if you were some servant girl I met in Flea Bottom. If I could choose any woman in the world, I'd choose you. Whether you're a Stark of Winterfell or just Arya, I'd always choose you."
Arya pushed back her hair and looked at him. "So, you take me as I am? The Knight of the Laughing Tree who will never be a lady?"
"Only if you take me as I am." He replied. "A simple bastard servant who loves you."
She smiled, feeling tears well in her eyes. "Of course I do."
Unable to hold back any longer, she grabbed the collar of his tunic and pulled him down – capturing his lips with hers in a burning clash. Immediately, the Bull pulled her flush against him, letting out a deep groan as her tongue slipped into his mouth and returning the attack with an intensity that matched everything he did.
Arya reached up to grip his hair, only to meet the cool metal of the bull helmet– she pulled back, laughing suddenly.
The Bull pulled back as well, breathing heavily. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing…I just realised, well I don't even know your name."
He laughed too at that, disbelief in his face. "Gendry." He said eventually. "Gendry Waters."
X-X
A/N: IMPORTANT QUESTION: I'm deciding on what Gendrya's name/house etc. will be because they're not going to be the Boltons of Dreadfort any longer and need opinions!
I've got their House name and sigil (to be revealed) but can't decide on the name of their seat or house words:
For the house words I'm between Defend the Defenceless (or something similar, like protect/unprotected, help/helpless); By Act, Not Stature or The Pack Survives. Thoughts? Votes?
For the name of seat/castle, I'm really stuck. Something 'Tree'. (Because of Arya and Trees and Knight of the Laughing Tree). But I don't know what-Tree.
Protectors Tree? Laughing Tree? Knights Tree? Defenders Tree? Guardians Tree? Opinions and ideas needed!
There should be another two chapters to go after this, including Arya and Gendry having a more detailed chat about everything that's happened, facing Ned/Robert and returning North.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a ton of fun to write because EVERYTHING FINALLY CAME TOGETHER. I've been planning that whole reveal scene since I started the story and it's so satisfying to have it down.
I loved the idea of Gendry and Arya crowning each other respectively with the helmet/flowers. (And that both those items are so iconic for them, not to mention the previous Baratheon-Stark generation).
And I tried to push literally every possible way for Arya/Gendry to be viable – not only fitting the helmet, but her vowing she'd marry Robert's son, him defending her as the mystery knight (which Ned was definitely impressed by for the record), Joffrey attacking them.
And also, that's why it was important Arya knew Gendry's identity beforehand because she could do the 'I vow to marry a King's son' bit and totally manipulate everyone like the brilliant strategist that she is.
I went back and forth on whether to include the reveal about Arya as the Knight of the Laughing Tree – it would be a MASSIVE scandal, but I also really wanted it to come out and for everyone to know what a badass Arya is.
This is also where you see the Starks having equal royal status with the Baratheon-Lannisters, really helps. In canon Joffrey could attack Arya and get away with it because he was the Crown Prince, while here it's royalty attacking royalty and that's a big no-no. So, Joffrey really screwed himself over on any hope of Arya and Gendry getting punished there.
Yes, their love declaration scene was also adapted from the 2015 Cinderella. Because the 'take me as I am' is just so perfect for Gendrya and their own insecurities about being a bastard/not a lady.