On the Road 2
Arya
It had been over a week, and she felt like they had a routine going. She'd timed her piss breaks perfectly, her accent was more authentic, she hadn't any more confrontations with Jaquen, or Yoren, or the figure of her father in her dreams. She was always anxious to sleep, but had yet to see her father again. But she had faith he would return, he'd said he would, and he always kept his word.
She was even more comfortable with her immediate companions, she felt herself smiling and laughing more, not often, but more. They'd finished all the apples and they were the best she'd ever tasted. Once she accepted that Lommy and Hot Pie were just idiots, young and naïve, she began to find them amusing. Some of the things they said were just so stupid and unfounded, that rather than try to argue with them, she let them talk in circles.
"The food'll be better at The Wall." Hot Pie states assuredly.
"Yeah, what makes you so sure?" Lommy questions.
"Well, they'll have kitchens, anyway. Maybe they'll act'ally let me help. That'll be something."
"Who cares about the food? It'll be bloody cold." Lommy complains, to which Gendry grumbles his ascent.
"Maybe not. They must got fires and warm coats and the like." Hot Pie suggests.
"People have survived for generations on The Wall, and generations more. If you're strong, work hard, you'll be fine." She says.
"You won't need a coat, you gots all that extra fat to keep warm." Lommy jokes, shoving Hot Pie and then running away.
"Oye, fuck you." Hot Pie defends.
"You'll be fine, you'll be in the kitchen." Gendry says.
"And you'll be in the forge. But Ari and I will for sure freeze, we ain't got no meat on our bones." Lommy worries.
"Everyone fights, no matter what. Every man is expected to defend The Wall."
"From what?" Gendry asks seriously.
"What do you know 'bout it?" Hot Pie asks at the same time.
"Ari's got a brother on The Wall." Gendry explains. She glares at him, but he doesn't notice or pretends he doesn't.
Lommy and Hot Pie look at Ari with newfound interest.
"Oye. Don't hold out on us." Hot Pie says.
"Yeah, what's it like?" Lommy asks.
"I've never been."
"Still, ya gotta know something." They plead.
"How's the food?" Hot Pie asks again.
"I dunno. There's fewer animals up there, 'cause the cold." Hot Pie's face drops at that. "But the surrounding districts give something during the coldest months. No one'll let The Watch starve to death. Without them… us, the realm would be lost."
"But what's up there? What're we fighting?" Gendry asks.
"I heard stories, that's all. But, I don't know."
"Well, one thing, I know there ain't no women up there." Lommy whines.
"Damn shame, that." Hot Pie laments.
"What do you care? You ain't never been with a girl." Lommy teases.
"How do you know? Have you?" Hot Pie counters.
"No, but I saw plenty naked." Lommy says. Both Hot Pie and Gendry look doubtful at that, but interested. Even Arya is attentive, this story should be good. "Most of the women would get naked while dyin', to keep their clothes clean. I remember the sight o' their titties bouncing as they worked, pink nipples, sometimes brown. I touched one once, Merilee was next to me, she turned and hit me in the face with one. Best moment of my life." He has a wistful smile on his face, but the others are laughing. Arya might have found such a story crude once, but now she just finds it sad. The best moment of his life, and he'll not get another like it.
"I kissed a girl." Hot Pie says, not to be outdone. "Her name was Trudi, she was a seamstress down the road from me. I gave her a lemon tart 'stead of throwin' it away. She kissed me right on the lips."
"What'd she look like?" Lommy wants to know.
"She had blonde blonde hair, and she was nice and plump. Her lips were so soft, like juicy summer cherries." Everything's food with him. And no one's surprised that he prefers chubby girls. Without knowing why, Arya speaks next.
"And you, Gendry?" He looks surprised she'd asked.
"I've kissed girls." He says. She believes him, she's sure he's done more than that.
"Yeah, but. Have you done more, gone all the way?" Lommy prompts.
"I… yeah, I've done more." Girls must have thrown themselves at him, she's not surprised.
"Well, details, come on man, don't hold out on us." Hot Pie pushes.
"None of your business." Gendry answers, a slight blush creeping up his neck.
"What about you, Ari?" Lommy asks her. And just like that, all the attention snaps to her.
"No, I never been with a girl." She answers honestly.
"And you ain't never kissed one either?" She shakes her head no. "Never been hit in the face with a tit like Lommy? Nothing?" Hot Pie jokes. She's considering the constant teasing she will receive based on her answer, and makes a decision.
"I've touched 'em." She says. Gendry raises his eyebrows at that.
"And, describe 'em. How big were they?" Lommy cups his hands in front of his chest in different sizes, trying to coerce more details.
"Not that big." She can't believe she's describing herself this way, like a piece of meat. "Average, I guess."
"Who was she?" Gendry asks.
"Just a girl."
"Pretty?" Hot Pie inquires.
"Average." She responds.
"You know, you're kinda boring, Ari." Lommy complains. "And you're even worse, Gen. I mean, have some pity. We ain't never gonna get the chance now. A few details won't kill you."
"That's not entirely true." Arya says. "There are whores in Mole's Town." She says. They all look at her expectantly.
"The Night's Watch can't have no women, everybody knows that." Another recruit nearby hears their conversation and interjects. Daryn, she thinks his name is, he's older.
"We can't take no wives or have no children." Gendry says.
"There's whores though. As long as you're not stupid about it, and you're back for your shifts, no one gives a shit." At least that's what she'd overheard her uncle Benjen say on his last visit from The Wall.
"Your brother tell you that?" Hot Pie asks.
"Yeah." She lies. And she wonders if Jon's partaking in those same prostitutes, if their uncle was taking care of him.
"Well, that's the best news I've heard all day." Daryn remarks, clapping her on the shoulder. The others cheer up as well.
"You got any money though?" Gendry asks seriously. And everyone looks more sullen.
"Prolly ugly anyway, those Northern girls." Another man, Penn maybe, adds.
"You ever seen a Northern girl?" Daryn asks him.
"No, never been past Fairmarket. But cold weather breeds hard women, everyone knows that."
"I bet they're still plenty warm between their thighs though." And they both laugh.
"Just turn 'em around, it don't matter as long as you don't gotta look at 'em in the face."
"I dunno about the whores, but I saw one o' their highborns though." She perks up at that, but schools her features to remain blank.
"Yeah, when? Ain't no highborn Northerners in the brothels." Penn jokes.
"Nah, I ain't said I fucked her. I saw her in the dungeons."
"Ain't no highborns in the dungeons, stupid."
"There was. She came in, all curves and silk, smelling like fresh bread, and girly smells." Arya tenses.
"What was she doin' in the dungeons?"
"Talkin' me into comin' on this gods-forsaken march. She coulda talked me into anythin' at that point, full belly, and that soft voice. I wouldn'ta minded buryin' myself in that." The two men laugh heartily, and the others chuckle, a little unsure exactly why. For her part, Arya feels nauseous.
"Fuckable, then?"
"Aye, I tell you I just gotta picture those moist pink lips and that firm little ass, and I'm cummin' in no time. Looked like she could suck the black off a crow, that one." They laugh again, and Arya fakes a limp, hopping, slowing down, then proceeds to take her boot off, shaking it out for a nonexistent pebble.
On the one hand, they clearly hadn't recognized her, but on the other… Uggghh.
The monotony of the day, and of the march itself, is broken up when Yoren lets them stop midday. They unload, caring for the horses first thing, but then they're led to a pond not far off, if slightly hidden by trees and bushes. No one would know it was there from the road, but of course Yoren knew the roads as well as the back of his own hand, as he would say.
The little pond is inviting, sparkling under the sun, water nice and blue. The men don't even hesitate as they strip and jump in. She sees more saggy guts, hairy balls, pimply asses, and hairy scraggly chests than she ever wanted to in her whole life. If the talk from earlier wasn't enough to put her off men in general, the current display would just about do it. What she wouldn't give for the chance to bathe, to be free of the too-tight binding around her chest, to wash under her armpits and between her legs, to scrub her scalp raw; but she can't. It's cruel almost, to watch them enjoy themselves, cool off beneath the sun, rid themselves of stenches and woodsy creatures. She pretends to busy herself with setting their things to rights, caring for the horses, sorting belongings. But the others notice her absence.
"Oye, Ari, come on in." Hot Pie yells cheerfully.
"Yeah, the water's great!" Lommy adds.
"I can't swim." She says.
"Don't matta. It's not deep. Anyways, we'll not let ya drown." Gendry offers.
She can see how deep it's not, Gendry's standing and she can see quite a bit of him. Whereas with the boys and old men, she couldn't look away fast enough, she has trouble turning away from Gendry. She does, but out of the corner of her eye she misses nothing. When she'd first met him, she'd seen his eyes and hair, that coupled with the context; she'd quickly deduced who his father was. But the more time she spent with Gendry, the farther apart the two seemed. The fat, drunken, bearded king, and the kind, shy, Gendry. Gendry was tall, his hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, little droplets of water hung in those long eyelashes, he had no fat, only muscle from pounding steel; she understood why he intimidated the others.
The King loved whores, and made no secret of it. Gendry had said he'd been with girls, though she couldn't imagine he had much to spend. When the women at The Sept, the ones who'd come frightened and alone, begged for help to undo their mistakes, Arya had thought them foolish. To fall for men's lies, to let themselves be weak, to ignore the consequences, well; she hadn't had as much pity as she should have. She could understand now wanting to be held, wanting the feel of a warm body to keep you safe, to feel less alone. And more and more lately, her eyes would wander to Gendry, she slept closer to him than the others, and she enjoyed making him smile. She'd seen him piss often enough, but always turned away, mostly. Here she watched every water drop drip down his hair, cheekbones, and the grooves in his chest, shoulders, and stomach.
"Ari, get the camp ready for the night, and keep your eye out on our stuff, yeah." Yoren instructs, giving her a plausible excuse not to bathe, and she gratefully runs off, trying not to look too rushed.
She collects wood, many armloads before she's satisfied. She finds some bushes with wild nuts and picks as much as she can carry, bringing her treasure back to camp. She's always looking for new herbs and plants on her forays into the woods; she'd already found sage for fever, burdock for rashes, buckthorn for digestion, and she had bit of the moon tea left, just in case. She gets to work on the nuts, placing them in a sturdy bowl, and pounding them with a nice-shaped rock. It takes quite a while but she manages to get through the hard shells to the meat underneath. She tries one and moans out loud in pleasure. Up North these were a delicacy, and she wouldn't waste a single one.
"Hey." It's coming from the cage. For an instant, she assumes it's Jaquen, but as she looks up, she can see it's one of the others, the one who'd asked for beer. "Come closer boy, let's have a look at you." He requests.
"No." She says. She imagines that however hot and uncomfortable she is, the men in the cage must feel it ten times worse. So she ignores them rather than take offense.
"Pretty boy. So pret'y. I know you. I know you." He says louder, more sure.
"The boy brought water, nothing more." Jaquen says, and she's grateful to him.
"No. Pretty pret'y. I know you. From before. Bread and grey eyes. Not a boy, but a girl." She drops the rock she was holding, nothing she can say, she hopes to ignore him. No such luck.
"Girl. Girl." He repeats. "Come 'ere then, girl. I promised to fuck you." She begins to panic, she stands as if to run, but doesn't know where to go. "Girl, girl. Come 'ere, girl!" His shouts are so loud, she's sure someone else must hear. As he keeps screaming, she looks around behind her, checking for approaching recruits, imagining all the possible consequences, what she'll do when someone hears. But the shouting suddenly stops. She spins back around to find him on the floor of the cage, unmoving. The third man, the one with part of his face missing, is huddled back in the corner of the cage, and Jaquen is standing calmly, looking directly at her. She walks closer, her feet moving without her permission. As she gets closer, she sees the man on the ground's chest isn't moving, and his eyes look empty. He is dead, she realizes, and all the while, Jaquen's gaze hasn't left hers.
Eventually a few of the others stroll over, and she backs up slowly from the cage. One notices the body, and shouts for Yoren. Jaquen and the other are questioned, so is she.
"What happened here?" Yoren asks.
It's the quiet one cowering in the corner who answers. "We ain't had water all day, or yesterday. It's hot." He explains, looking frequently at Jaquen for confirmation.
Yoren doesn't look completely convinced, but accepts the explanation eventually. They position six men around the cage, all pointing swords at the two prisoners within. Two more open the door and pull out the body, before shutting it again. They check him, and sure enough, he's dead. But they find no mark to explain why. Arya looks back at Jaquen, who nods slowly as if to say 'you're welcome.'
They need to bury the body far from camp, and Arya volunteers to be one of the four. The man is dead because of her, but she hadn't done it herself. As her father would have. The least she could do is clean up the mess. The dirt gets under her fingernails and the smell of the newly rotting corpse in the hot sun clings to her skin.
Everyone is in a strange state, refreshed from the swim, but uncomfortable with the very real death of one of their own, even one who'd made them uncomfortable.
Just then a lone howl fills the air, a wolf keening low and long, perhaps smelling the corpse and getting hungry. There's some tensing around her, a few mutters, and more curses of fear.
"No one goes off alone, hear me?" Yoren warns before taking his post as watch. Everyone agrees, and clumps even more tightly into groups. Even Gendry, Hot Pie and Lommy sleep close, despite her stench. These men are tough, and they're afraid. There are twenty of them, some grizzled, criminals, with weapons and pasts. But this one lone wolf, bold, and unafraid; that scares them. She's a wolf too, she can be bold. She smiles wolfishly.
She waits until everyone is asleep, even Yoren. Then waits just a little bit longer for the night to turn so dark nothing is visible beyond a few feet. Her boots are kept off, and she tiptoes more quietly than she ever has before. She's sneakier than when she'd escaped out her room before dress fittings, stole pies from the kitchens, or hid during embroidery sessions.
This is all so dangerous, the pond isn't that far from the road, but it isn't plainly visible. She goes around to the farthest side, and finds a good spot with a lot of moss and other covering. She knows it's stupid, but can't make herself turn back. She sets her pouch beneath some leaves, and sticks her blade into the moist ground near the edge, ready at a moment's notice, just in case. She strips at lightening speed, and leaves it all in a heap by the edge. She carefully wades in, not making much noise. It feels strange after so long, but her body quickly acclimates to the temperature.
Once in, completely covered by the surface of the water, she grabs the clothes and the bar of soap she'd pilfered, she's careful to only get the dirty parts wet, to make sure they dry fast. She scrubs at the stains near the collar of the tunic, goes over the creases in the pits and the groin of her pants repeatedly until the smells are at an acceptable level. Her breast binding she soaks and scrubs, it's frayed and darkened with body oils and sweat, so it still smells strange when she's through, but she hangs the lot up on a nearby branch. Finally, she can clean herself, her head has dried flakes of skin between the hair follicles, and she can feel the shortest pieces growing out. She's careful to do behind her ears as her mother always used to remind her, and takes the time for her most intimate places. She hasn't been in long, she'd promised herself no more than ten minutes. She hears a rustling in the bushes and immediately goes on alert.
The wolf, she wonders? Surely a Stark need not fear wolves. There's more rustling. She grabs for the blade and holds it out in front of her. The rustling's stopped, but she's sure she didn't imagine it. She steps out quickly, unmindful of the noise, and peels her eyes in every direction. Her breaths are shallow, and once more she wonders what her fate will be. She sees a shadow, but can't make it out, it's no animal. Without taking her eyes off the movement, she bends down to pick up her clothes, blindly groping with her left hand she comes across the tunic. Rather than let herself lose sight of the threat, she only holds the damp shirt against her front before confidently addressing the figure.
"Show yourself." She says, gripping the steel. Though she has no idea what she'll do, there are only a few of them she could overpower with the blade, and even then, the noise would likely alert more people. Not even Yoren could protect her then. Her only real course of action would be to make an offer or…
"It's me." Says the voice, coming closer, footsteps sheepish. She lets out a big sigh of relief.
"Gendry." The hand clasping her shirt flattens against her chest, feeling her heartbeat slow. "What are you doing out here?" She asks.
"I was looking for you. Yoren said not to go off alone. I thought the wolves would get you, or…" He doesn't finish his sentence, his eyes are too busy roaming along her body, head to toe and back again, mouth agape.
"For fucksakes." She mutters, swinging the blade round emphatically. He puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender, the shock mixing with a bit of fear. "Well…" She looks at him expectantly. He doesn't move. "Would you mind?" She opens her eyes wider and gestures with the blade.
"Oh. Yeah o' course." And he turns around. "I'll keep watch."
She lets out a disbelieving huff. She puts the blade between her teeth and wriggles into the damp top. She grabs for the rest, but finds them still quite wet. Stupid. She hadn't thought this through well at all. If it had been anyone else…
"You're a girl." He says, still turned away from her.
"Clearly." She only has herself to blame and shouldn't take it out on him, but she hates how helpless she feels, almost naked in the dark. "Damn." She curses.
He turns at this, makes to turn back again, but she motions him not to bother. "It's alright."
He obviously has more he wants to say, but he's still having trouble concentrating enough to get words out. His gaze is particularly locked to her chest, to which she looks down and realizes how see-through the material is, even in the dark. She crosses her arms over her breasts uncomfortably. But she finds she can't make eye contact with him either. She sighs, and sits on a flat surface, and motions him to sit with a shift of her head. He does, but looks even more flustered sitting next to her, it's easier though sitting side by side.
"How… ummm…" He swallows and tries again. "What's a girl doing travelling with The Watch? Girls can't take the black, can they?"
"Of course not." She wrings out a wet clump of hair. "Yoren's taking me home, it's on the way." He does look at her face then.
"So Yoren knows?"
"That's right."
"Who else?" The dead prisoner from the cage. Jaquen. But she keeps that to herself.
"Now you do." And she looks at him intently and reaches for his hand. "You can't tell anyone. Not Hot Pie, not Lommy, not anyone. Please Gendry." She begs. He looks down at their entwined hands.
"Of course not. I wouldn't. I swear it." She lets out another huge breath of air.
"Good. Thank you." She'd never really thought she would have to worry about him. It hadn't been long, but she knew she could trust Gendry. She lets go of his hand to wring out the breast binding. His eyes travel to her legs. "Gendry." She says to get his attention.
"Sorry. How long… I mean. How didn't I know? How?"
"Men are stupid. No offense." He just nods.
"I knew there was something." He says and she looks at him expectantly. "Well, I didn't know. I mean, when I first met you, you smelled so nice and all. And your skin's so soft, but then after a while…" He trails off once more, and she rolls her eyes.
She decides things will be better once she gets dressed, no matter how wet her clothes are. She uses his shoulder to lift herself up and pulls her pants up behind his back.
"Still, it's not safe." He continues his thought.
"Well, it was the only way I could get out of King's Landing. This is practically the last place they'd look for me." She defends.
"Who?" Who indeed? The Queen. Joffrey. Lord Baelish, perhaps.
"The Queen." She says simply. His eyebrows shoot up at that.
"So you're important then?" He asks.
"Yes, in a way. If she got her hands on me, it would be… very bad."
"You're important. That's why you've got soft hands, and you talk like you do."
"Talk like what?"
"You don't talk like the rest o' us, I noticed that straight away." Ah, so he wasn't completely oblivious. Still, she had thought she had managed a passable accent. "You rich?"
"Not at the moment." She answers honestly.
"You… a highborn? A lady?" He seems a bit frightened.
"Before this, yes. And if I make it home… But you can't…."
"Ah shit. You're a lady. And I've been pissing in front o' you and everythin', I…"
"Quit it!" And she shoves him hard in the shoulder. "Don't make a big deal out of it. That's the last thing I need, you treating me like some noble lady and everyone getting suspicious. I'm just Ari, understand?"
"Yeah, yeah. O' course. Sorry."
"Forget it. Look, we should get back. You go first, I'll wait a few minutes. It won't look as strange." He nods in understanding. She walks behind another bush and reties the bindings before heading back too.
He's on his pallet, the exact same spot, eyes clearly open in the moonlight, searching for her. Something about it makes her chest loosen, to have someone know about her, and wait up for her. She lays down beside him, like always, and falls asleep easily. She doesn't feel Gendry breathe in her newly cleaned hair and skin.
In her dream she's sitting upright watching the stars, the constellations easy to recognize from her time in Winterfell.
"Hello, love." It's her father, seated beside her eating a few of the nuts she'd cracked. She wastes no time this time and hugs him tightly. He hugs her back tightly. "Everything alright, love?" He asks into her shorn hair.
"I was careless, but it'll be fine. I'll be better from now on."
"Don't worry so much. You've always been too careful. Your mother's fault, I'm sure."
"Well maybe you weren't careful enough." And there's a bite in her words. She immediately feels guilty.
"Aye, you're right."
"I'm sorry. Forgive me, father."
"Of course, love." And he strokes her hair.
"Is mother alright? Jon?"
"Yes." He says with a sad smile. "Rest now, love." And he lays her down, and tucks a thick blanket around her. She feels safe and warm, whole, digging her fingers into the fabric and rubbing her face into the fibers.
Light and scattered voices rouse her from slumber. She awakes to realize her fingers have dug into Gendry's shirt and her face is pressed intimately against his bare chest. She scrambles up ungracefully and mutters an apology.
"S'alright." He says, looking at her warmly. She goes off to make water, very glad her clothes have dried in the night, and though she smells better, she still feels the clothes sitting strangely against her skin. Upon her return she sees her little pack talking over breakfast, and she has a stab of irrational fear that he's told them. But when Hot Pie holds up her food invitingly, and Lommy doesn't even look up, she feels ashamed for doubting Gendry.
Unfortunately, Gendry is looking at her funny. She gives him an annoyed look, and he quickly looks elsewhere. They begin the day's trek, and Gendry tugs on her sleeve to signal that he wants to walk in the back, presumably he has more questions.
"Sleep well?" He asks. She blushes.
"Sorry about that, I didn't know what I was doing."
"I don't mind." They walk for a few more minutes in silence, the slower pace grating on her nerves a bit.
"What's your name, your real name?" She considers lying, telling more partial truths, but now that she's decided to trust him it seems almost counterproductive.
"Arya." He repeats it in a whisper. "Of House Stark." And she bites her lip.
"Stark?!" He says too loudly, she quickly determines no one heard, but glares at him. He only makes it worse. "Your father was The Hand of the King, the traitor…"
"He was never a traitor! He was the most honorable man that ever lived. Joffrey's a liar. That cunt Cersei too. Don't you ever say that again." Her voice is dangerous, not loud but controlled.
"Sorry, sorry…" He was just repeating what he'd heard she knows.
"He was never a traitor." She says more calmly.
"The Queen would kill you, wouldn't she?"
"Doubtful, I'm much more valuable as a hostage."
"And you need to get all the way to Maidenpool?" Maidenpool? Oh, right.
"No, that was a lie. I'm going home to Winterfell."
"Winterfell? But that's almost as far as The Wall? If anyone else finds out… If it had been anyone else last night…"
"I know." She's embarrassed at her mistake.
"Shit!" Then he looks over at her. "Pardon."
"I'm no different than yesterday, Gendry. You've been cursin' and pissin' in front of me the whole time, you'd better not stop now. Nothing can be different, understand." He nods that he does, but she's not sure he'll be able to keep to it.
"So what else was a lie? Your brother?"
"No, that was true. My brother Jon is at The Wall. I'd give anything to see him now, but, well… I have to make it home to Winterfell first."
"But why would a li'l lord join The Watch? I sure wouldn't take the black if I had anythin' better. I mean everyone knows The Watch is a joke, a punishment for shitheads. Oh, er, criminals."
"The Night's Watch is an honorable tradition that has been around for generations. The Watch mans The Wall and keeps the realm of men safe. Up North we believe taking the black is a worthy sacrifice." He looks at the thieves and rapers walking the road in front of them and still seems doubtful. She elaborates. "Also, when my father and I left for King's Landing, there wasn't really a place for him there anymore."
"Why not?"
"My mother was, well she was a right bitch to him." That felt rather good to say. "She blamed him for something that's not his fault, treated him like shit all his life." At his curious look she keeps going, glad to express all her frustration on the subject finally. "He's a bastard, like you. My father went to war and came back with a babe. It's him she was mad at, but she took it out on Jon. He never did anything, tried harder than anyone. He gave me this blade, these are his clothes I borrowed; he's my favorite brother." She smiles sadly, and he smiles back at her, something unreadable in his eyes.
"Your favorite brother, eh? How many've you got?"
"Four?" His eyes widen at that. She laughs a little at his surprise.
"Aye. There's Robb, he's oldest. He's Lord of Winterfell now, but he'll be fine. Father's been training him all his life, or he was. Then Jon. Then me." He interrupts.
"How old are you?"
"Ummm." She has to think. She was fourteen when she left, but. "What month is it?"
"Dunno, late autumn to be sure." She nods.
"By the second snow, I'll be fifteen. You?"
"I turned nineteen a few weeks before I left." She nods in acceptance, then continues on.
"Bran. He's like a monkey, always climbing. Always used to get so frustrated whenever I beat him at anything. I can't help it that I'm a much better archer. What was I supposed to do, let him win?" She asks rhetorically.
"O' course, not." He smiles.
"And baby, Rickon. He's only six. He won't understand what happened to Father."
"I met your father." He says suddenly, seriously. She'd known that once, but she'd forgotten. And she didn't know all the specifics.
"What… what did you talk about?" He scratches his head, collecting his thoughts.
"He asked me about my mum, what she was like. Same as The Hand before him. Wanted to know if I was alright."
"Anything else?" She prompts, desperate for any information on her father.
"He liked my helm."
"Did he?" She asks with a smile.
"Aye. He wanted to buy it, but I wouldn't sell it. I swear, I thought my master would skin me alive. But Lord Stark, he said it was fine. I think he respected me for it. He told Master Mott that if I ever wanted to swing a sword rather than forge 'em, to let him know." He finishes. She's silent for a time.
"Ari…"
"He liked you."
"I dunno. I guess so."
"Of course he did." He seems pleased by that.
"I liked him too." Of course he did. What had her father wanted with him, why go to all this trouble for him? In the end, intentional or not, her father had died for him. She'd have to ask him the next time they met. "Weird though. I don't know why he'd bother with the likes o' me."
And now she was torn. She'd told him most of her secrets, and he'd taken it all well. But he'd already slipped up a few times, and she could imagine keeping his own secret might be harder. She decided to test the waters.
"What about your father?"
"I'm a bastard Arya, a, Ari. You know that." He's still embarrassed about it.
"Yeah, but, do you know anything about him, or…?"
"I don't know, don't care." Okay.
"But, if you could find out, would you want to know?"
"The bastard left me and my mum. She got sick and died and he did nothing for her, for me. He can drink himself to death in some tavern for all I care. It's prolly where he is right now." He looks angry, jaw clenching. Well, that little revelation can wait.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"S'alright." And just like that, he's back to good-natured Gendry. The funny part is, he's not far off. He'd drunk himself to death, to be sure. But Arya was pretty sure he'd never known about Gendry's existence. She'd leave it for now.
When Yoren finally calls for them to make camp she can't believe it, she hadn't even felt the time go by. Talking about her family, talking openly with Gendry, her good night's sleep, the fresher smell coming off her person; it was a good day.
Sitting down, enjoying their meal of rabbit stew and biscuit, Arya feels herself finally relax.
As the sky darkens, they hear horses approach. The horses' gaits are heavy, and there is the distinctive clink of armor. Soldiers, goldcloaks, The Queen. She freezes, unable to move. Gendry looks from them to her, eyes wide, and jumps to action where she couldn't. He pulls her up and settles her into a ravine; he uses his large frame to block her head from view.
"Stay down." He whispers. When the soldiers get closer, he instinctively tries to turn towards them, but she grabs his arm to stop him. Between her teeth she hisses.
"Don't turn around, don't let them see your face." His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, but he does as she asks.
"You in command here?" The soldier asks, and she knows the voice immediately. It's that of Ser Meryn, the one who'd beat her on Joffrey's command.
Yoren walks up to him calmly. "Aye, but you could try asking with manners next time." Ser Meryn ignores him and she hears paper crinkling.
"I've a warrant for one of these gutter rats you're transporting." He says. Gendry looks at her, clearly frightened on her behalf. Truth be told, so is she.
"The thing is." Yoren responds. "Once they join the Night's Watch, they're beyond the reach of Kings and Queens." She couldn't be more proud of Yoren than in that moment. She hears steel being drawn. "It's a funny thing, people worry so much about their throots that they forget about what's doon low. Now I sharpened this blade before breikfast, I could shave a spider's arse if I wanted to. Or, I could knick this artery in your leg; now once it's nicked, no one 'round here knows how to unknick it. We'll just keep that." And she hears a sword being unsheathed. "Good steel's always needed on The Wall. Now it's your choice, you can die here at this crossroads, or you can go back home and tell the Queen ya didn't find what you were lookin' for."
There's a long pause, the goldcloak weighing his options, before he says, "We're looking for a boy named Gendry, he carries a bull's head helmet." Gendry stops breathing, but doesn't take his eyes off her. "Whoever turns him over, will earn the King's reward." The horses neigh as they're reared on. "We'll be back, with more men, and we'll be taking your head along with that bastard boy."
The soldiers ride off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their wake. Arya can sense the others staring at Gendry with new interest, and she wonders how many will run to Joffrey and collect a reward. She catches Yoren's eye, who motions with his head for her to follow him, she nods in understanding. She looks back to Gendry to find he hasn't taken his eyes off her. She expects fear or confusion, but instead finds anger and hurt. Great, just great.
A/N: Okay, so that was a mega chapter. So much fun though, expect a new one soon. Questions, comments, likes, dislikes, suggestions, theories, please review.