Summary: Winterfell gets a lot brighter.
Arya
When Arya entered Bran's chambers she saw him sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Relief nearly floored her but she pushed it away in order to race to his bedside. When she was there, Arya pulled her younger brother into a fierce hug, feeling a shuddery laugh escape her body.
"I'm alright Arya." He gasped, hugging her back.
"We were so worried about you!" She pulled back to look at him. "How are you feeling? Are you alright? What do you remember? Does anything hurt?" Bran chuckled at the sudden bombardment of questions.
"Firstly, yes I'm fine, although I'm really hungry. Only my arm hurts thank the Gods. I don't honestly remember anything, except for falling. I never realised how high the abandoned tower was." He frowned and turned his grey eyes to her. He scanned her face. "You look awful."
"That's with concern for you, you idiot!" She playfully hit him and then pulled him into another embrace. It was then she realised she was laughing and crying all at the same time. The sensations were almost surreal.
"Are you alright?" Her brother asked nervously, brushing away the happy tears on her face.
"Of course I am stupid." Arya tittered and sighed, composing herself. "I'll fetch Maester Luwin. He'll want to have a look at you." She wiped the last of her tears away and went to get the maester.
Arya was stood in Bran's room listening to the healer chat to her brother as the rest of her family surrounded them. Her mother was crying again, leaning against Ned for support. Her father and aunt both shared looks of utter relief and then there was Jon, who was smiling constantly. Everyone was rejoicing that Bran was alive and well.
"Well Lord Bran, it appears that the Gods have saved you. Your leg isn't broken as I had previously thought, though it is damaged. Your arm has shattered in three places however and I would suggest no more sword or archery practise." Maester Luwin said. Bran's face crumpled with disappointment but he didn't pass a comment.
"No more climbing Bran." Lady Catelyn said. Her hiccupping ruining the stern effect she was after.
He hung his head and gave a small nod. Arya caught his gaze and she knew that look. He wasn't going to give it up. Perhaps he wouldn't climb the buildings anymore, but he certainly wouldn't give up clambering the Weirwood. Arya supressed a grin. She knew her brother all too well. Or perhaps he was just too similar to her.
Chuckling to herself she left the room, heading outside. On her way to the forge Arya passed the Frey, seeing deep red scratches on one side of his face. They looked red and slightly swollen and she smiled, unable to contain it. She was surprised that he honestly hadn't pissed his pants when Nymeria had pounced on him. She laughed at the memory. Her amusement however was short lived as it was then that he beamed back. The expression on his face worried her. At a first glance his smile appeared to be all politeness, but there was something darker in it, something that made a shiver run down her back. Arya shrugged it off, knowing that Elmar had taken her threat seriously. She had meant what she had said earlier. If he ever went near her family again, she would kill him.
Arya broke her gaze with the Frey and entered Mikken's forge hearing the double clang of steel hitting steel.
The Stark's blacksmith bowed his head in respect to her. She was pleased that he had beaten the fever that had sickened him. His aged eyes were bright again, the chestnut brown warm just as she remembered. Arya smiled back but made her way over to where Prince Gendry was bent over the bench, focus etched on his face as he worked. He was fully clothed this time even though sweat beaded on his forehead. His heavy black hair was tousled as though he had run his hands through it a few times. She couldn't see what he was making; it was small and hidden by the range of tools that lined the surface.
She stopped a few feet away, not wanting to distract him from his work. Instead she sat on a stool and patiently waited.
"How's Bran?" He asked respectfully, not looking away from what he was doing. Arya instantly felt a twinge of guilt remembering the way she had screamed at him.
"He's awake now and feeling much better."
"That's good."
"Maester Luwin says he won't be able to practise archery for a while. Or climb." In all honesty, Arya was just pleased that Bran was able to still use his legs.
"I can imagine Lord Bran not being very happy about that Lady Arya." Mikken laughed, the deep booming sound mingling with the clang of metal. Arya shook her head.
"No he wasn't very pleased." She said, unable to stop her grin. "Though he didn't argue with him."
"He won't listen to the maester." Gendry said though he continued to tap the metal he was working with. "I've noticed that Stark children seem to have a habit of disobeying." He stated the observation as his eyes twinkled with mischief.
"It's a trait that runs in the family." Arya stated, not offended in the least. Her and Bran did have a problem listening to their parents.
"Apparently." They grinned at one another and she felt the tension begin to dissipate. "Does he remember anything?"
"He can't recall if he was pushed or not if that's what you're asking." He nodded in response and then the awkward silence stretched out again. Neither of them said anything else and Arya didn't know how to say what she wanted to. Not with Mikken there. So she left.
Gendry
He knew that Arya had come to the forge to apologise to him. Gendry had seen shame in the banks of those lovely metallic eyes. He would have guessed that she felt bad for yelling at him the other day. Looking back, he didn't blame her. What she said was true. He would have acted the same way if it were his brother who had been harmed. It scared him to think someone would harm Arya's little brother. In his own home no less, surrounded by people that loved him dearly. Gendry knew if it were him in her place then he wouldn't rest until he discovered who was accountable for the crime. So he didn't know why he had tried to persuade Arya that what had occurred was just an accident. She knew her brother better than he did after all.
Yet the rage he had been consuming her. Rage and desperation and fear had burned inside her and he was worried it would take over. He had seen it happen before. He knew that look when someone couldn't think of anything but vengeance. She had paced the abandoned tower for hours, speaking to herself, listing all those who may have had something to do with the "accident". That was probably why he had tried to calm her.
It didn't work though did it? Gendry chided himself. In fact his speech to Arya had had the opposite effect. She was now angrier with him than anyone else. Arya had thought he would believe her and as a result felt a little betrayed. Neither him nor Jon, her favourite person had listened to her. Again he felt a painful cramp of guilt inside him.
Now, seeing the Frey he understood why she had accused the boy of such malevolence. Gendry studied the boy from the opposite side of the Great Hall.
His eyes glittered, cold and unfeeling in the dim light of the candles. They cast shadows on his sharp features, picking up the rough detail on the violent scratches on his face, making him seem even harsher. Gendry didn't know where Elmar had aquired those wounds though he suspected that Arya had something to do with it. He didn't blame her for ignoring his request not to attack anyone until she knew for sure who had hurt Lord Bran. If roles were reversed he wouldn't see such sense and he knew it. The knowledge just made the repentance worse.
To distract himself, Gendry tried to find Arya in the mass of people. It didn't take him long. To him she stood out, even in this crowd. With her long dark hair, steel eyes and a body that could kill within a second's notice. He was pleased to note that at the moment she was in deep conversation with the Stark's most recent guests, Meera and Jojen of House Reed. Apparently they were good friends of Arya and Bran as they had grown up together. Gendry liked seeing her with people who she wanted to be around rather than those she was forced to put up with. Her lips were pulled in a constant and genuine smile, her eyes flickering between her brother and friends, warm and happy. It felt like the incident with Bran had never occurred.
That was until her gaze timidly flicked up and met his.
She quickly glanced back to Meera though a rose blush tinted her cheeks. She then said something that caused the Reed girl to look over to him. Her bright green gaze was steady and measured. There was no judgement in them as she studied him and bowed her head a little in respect. She turned back to Arya whose mouth dropped. She looked both amused and shocked by something Meera had said. Bran laughed heartily and Jojen frowned as though he didn't understand the jest. Arya rolled her eyes.
"Are you enjoying the feast Your Grace?" Lord Eddard asked, coming to stand next to him. Gendry found himself looking into eyes the colour of the Northern sky. A smile played at the corner of his mouth and he couldn't help but smirk back. He nodded in reply to the question.
"I would like to take this opportunity to thank you."
"Thank me?"
"Yes for asking Arya for her hand." His stormy grey eyes flashed to his daughter and then to the Frey. "I know exactly what would happen if she married him, and now it looks very unlikely that my daughter will meet that fate; thanks to you." For a moment the prince was completely stunned. He never expected Lord Eddard to thank him. "It makes the whole situation easier, knowing that she will be marrying a decent man who loves her." Words escaped him he followed Ned Stark's gaze to Arya who was laughing in earnest at her brother, who against all the advice given to him was dancing with Meera Reed.
She was a small girl, similar to Arya's build and just came up to Bran's shoulders. Her brown hair was loosely braided at the back of her head and she wore an elaborate green gown. It was very different to anything Arya had ever worn. Whereas she preferred plainer garments, Meera obviously liked something more unusual. The laced up top was coloured in a mass of olive and jade scales, all shimmering in the light. The skirts were paler shade of green as were the long sleeves. The style wasn't similar to anything that he had seen before yet it seemed to suit her.
As they danced closer to where he was stood, Gendry caught snippets of their conversation.
"-how tall you are Bran! I mean, you're huge!" He blushed fiercely and shrugged, trying to act casual.
"-well you're still small. Like Arya." He grumbled back, twirling in the opposite direction.
"-still a better hunter than you." Meera argued. Then they both looked at each other and laughed, agreeing with her boast. Gendry grinned. She was so similar to Arya it was almost scary.
"Excuse me Lord Stark." He edged around the group of people near the banquet. Soon enough he was stood close to her, staring down into those molten silver eyes. A little of her previous amusement died away as she regarded him. She was still angry, he knew that. "Arya, I am sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"Not here." She rushed and grabbed his hand, dragging him from the Great Hall. Arya pulled him into an a alcove a little away from the noises of the hall. It was sheltered and quiet near the armoury, and mercifully dry under the overhanging roof. It was still raining profusely, which also helped drown out the din.
"I'm sorry." Arya said quickly before looking away. "I shouldn't have yelled at you the other day. I was just so mad. I'm sick of people not listening to me, or taking what I say seriously." Infuriated she started to pace again, her eyes flashing to his. "He did it by the way, Elmar. I know that he did."
"How do you know Arya?"
"Summer told me." She said simply, her chin rising in that challenging way of hers.
"A direwolf told you that Elmar Frey hurt your brother?"
"Yes and don't look at me like that. I'm telling the truth."
If it had been anyone else she had said this to, they may have thought her raving. But Gendry understood the bond between the Stark children and their direwolves. Jon had told him many times about how Ghost reflected his feelings and thoughts and that sometimes that the wolf could read his mind.
His friend said that it was the wolf blood, which had ran in his mother, his uncles and now him and his cousins.
Arya and Nymeria had a strong connection, so why was it so hard to believe that she could speak to Summer too? Even if he did accept this as correct what were they to do about it? No-one would take her claim seriously, especially when they asked for evidence. What would she say? 'Summer told me'. He couldn't imagine Lady Catelyn taking that well. Putting that aside, technically Arya was still betrothed to the Frey as they hadn't yet confronted Lord Rickard. Gendry sighed feeling his head begin to pound.
"And what do you plan to do with your betrothed?" The word slipped out without his permission and Arya stepped forward, the word notching her irk higher.
"Shut up Gendry." She snapped, wolf eyes glaring at him. He noticed that she only used his name when she was very angry with him.
"Well it's true. Gods, if we don't speak to Lord Rickard soon-"
"My brother had just survived an accident; one that almost took his life. Did you really think it was appropriate to announce our engagement in light of that?" She argued, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes narrowed.
"No but-"
"But nothing. I accepted your offer, which for now should be enough."
How could it be enough when the Frey is constantly following her and now apparently hurting her family? Gendry thought, scowling into the night. He felt another spark in his chest whenever he thought of Arya with Elmar. He had to give it to the Frey as he nothing but persistant. He constantly followed her and tried to get her alone.
Glancing down he saw again how beautiful Arya was. How lovely. He decided to do the only thing he could. Her eyes widened as is mouth lowered to hers.
"What are you doing?" Arya demanded. But her silver eyes heated with something other than just irritation. Gendry answered with the press of lips. She could have pushed him away but instead Arya then leaned further into him. Taking cue, he applied more pressure to her mouth, knowing all the while that he should stop, but the feel of her pressed against him, feverishly kissing him was too addictive.
It was very different to their first kiss which was gentle. This seemed to be full of frustration and urgency. He lifted her with ease and Arya surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist. Gendry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body closer to his.
His mind screamed at him to end this, yet he couldn't force himself away. Her hand moved to the back of his head as he sipped and kissed her lips, her fingers running through his thick hair. Gendry groaned at the heady sensation, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Tentatively his tongue traced the seam of her lips and Arya shivered delicately.
"Arya where- oh I'm so sorry!" Meera shouted as she covered her eyes. Flustered she spun and almost ran back inside.
Arya burst into laughter. It was a nervous, shaky sound that made him smile in return. Slowly he disengaged herself from him, pressing a final kiss to his mouth and followed her friend.
Gendry didn't follow right away. Instead he took a moment to breathe in the cold air, shaking his head at his own stupidity. What had he been thinking?! He was just grateful no-one had seen.