Chapter 25
A Good Husband
Ok, I'm late. Technically it's Saturday here, but each chapter seems to be taking me longer and longer. I hope you forgive the delay and enjoy this…
Gendry awoke to sunlight peeking around the edges of the curtains and Arya in his arms. He pulled her closer and kissed her wild hair. He loved her so much 'twas like an ache deep inside of him. For the first time in his life he had everything he had ever hoped for, everything he had fought for. He was Lord Baratheon of Storm's End, betrothed to Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell and he was surely the happiest man alive this morn.
Arya's head rested on his shoulder, her arm flung possessively across his chest and the whole, exquisite, naked length of her lay against him. He stroked his fingers slowly down the graceful length of her back and over the swell of her hip, enjoying the feel of skin on skin. Hers was soft as silk, but he knew the strength that lay underneath. She was finally his; his wild, warrior girl. He had waited so long for her and last night had not disappointed.
The first time he had been so eager that he had worried he had let himself be carried away with the force of his need. But he could not have done too badly for she was as eager as he for their second joining. That time he felt he had something to prove; she had stunned him with her confession about Ghost and Nymeria. In truth 'twas not the fact that she was a warg that troubled him; after all she was a Stark. He already knew Jon and Bran had the gift and Arya's warning on the eve of the battle had come from Nymeria. Nae, that was not what vexed him; 'twas rather the timing of her admission. He had taken her maidenhead moments before and she had chosen that moment to confide that she had warged into Nymeria as the she-wolf rutted with Ghost. He had to admit that the idea of Jon sharing in the experience had shocked and troubled him.
He could have chosen to ignore what he could never really understand or he could have let it irk him, let his jealously eat away at him. Instead he decided to prove to her that her dreams were nothing compared to what he could give her. Judging by the way she had writhed and moaned and begged him for release, he had been successful. That knowledge gave him a great deal of satisfaction.
'Twas that pride that had made him made him think only of her pleasure when she woke him in the night by pressing her delicious, round arse hard against his cock. She had rolling her hips insistently while whispering his name, wanting what only he could give her. When he slid his hand between her thighs, he found her hot and wet for him and from the way she kissed him, her need was as urgent as his own.
After their first two wild joinings, he had promised himself that the next time he would take her slowly and he had. In the dark of the night he had lavished all the care and attention he could upon her. The candles had burnt down low and the fire reduced to mere embers in the hearth. In the faint, orange glow he had worshiped her body slowly and tenderly. The absence of light had left him relying on touch, sound and taste and he had tasted every inch of her. He had licked and sucked and stroked and taken her to the very brink of release, time and again, yet he had not let her over it until he knew she could take no more. Then they had fallen together in the dark in a climax so intense it seemed near death and what came after felt like heaven. Lying in each other's arms, sated and drowsy, 'twas as if there was nothing and no one else in the world except them and their love.
He had listened to old men's drunken talk of marriage and dismissed most of it, but one piece of advice, from Tom O'Sevens of all people, came back to him now; you can have sex with any woman, but if the God's are good, you'll know what it is to make love to a wife.
Gendry trailed his fingertips lightly over the swell of Arya's breast and smiled as he realised that old rouge Tom had spoken the truth for once. It might be Arya's maiden's blood marking the sheet this morn', but last night he had been as much a maid as she. Never before had he allowed himself to spill his seed inside a woman and never before had he wanted to stay after he had found his release. Aye, last night he had made love for the first time and, if the God's were good, to his wife.
With a wry smile and a shake of his head, he banished any lingering doubts and negative thoughts from his mind. He had her promise to wed and he would see it done, even if he had to chain her to his bed as Lem suggested and have a Septon wed them in this very bedchamber.
Arya held to her father's Old Gods and, after what he had seen north of The Wall, he could not believe in any others save them, however 'twas still tempting to do it today. If only bloody Stannis had not burnt down the Godswood. He had still to visit the site, but he had no idea if a Godswood could be re-grown. Did anyone? Mayhaps Sam from his books or Willas Tyrell with his knowledge of plants.
So, in the absence of a Godswood, he would either have to wait or make do with a Septon. Surely there was one of them in Storm's End? Gendry could call for him now and be done with it. A wedding in the Faith of the Seven was recognised in every part of Westeros. If anything should happen to him, Arya and any child she carried would at least have the protection of his name. He would be damned to the seven hells afore he would leave his son to grow up a bastard.
Seven buggering hells, he snorted. Where had these morbid thoughts come from? Moments ago he had believed himself to be the happiest man in Westeros and now he was contemplating his own death. He shook his head again as he traced light circles on Arya's hip. 'Twas obvious, even to him, that this sudden preoccupation with his mortality had been brought about as a result of his now having something to loose; Arya. Before, he had not even considered what would happen if he fell in battle, other than mayhaps who would care for his horse.
He would speak to her about it soon, but not yet. As much as he was tempted to kiss her awake, neither of them had much sleep the night before and the Maester said Arya needed more rest to recover from her ordeal. It had not been like her to ask him to slow down on the stair last night. Nae, Arya had always matched him step for step, blow for blow and mayhaps last night he should have let her rest instead of seeking pleasure with her. He chuckled to himself as he realised how futile any attempt to make her rest last night would have been. She had wanted their joining as much as he and he had been in no mood to deny her. But 'twould be purely selfish to wake her now.
Gendry eased his arm from beneath her, smiling to himself as she made a little moan of displeasure when he moved away.
Once he sat up, his eyes were drawn to the tapestry hung on the wall directly in front of him. He had been vaguely aware of two figures engaged in some struggle, but, as he looked more closely, he could see that one was a stag and the other a knight. However, the positioning of the figures was all wrong. Gendry had seen enough tapestries hung in enough halls to know they were always the same; a celebration of some victory or other with the usual prancing horse, the demure maiden, the knight with sword or lance. But this was different. The knight seemed to be kneeling, as if in prayer while the stag leapt behind him. Intrigued, Gendry got up to examine the wall hanging more closely.
Instead of cold stone, bare wood, or even packed earth, his feet hit the softness of more tapestries, although not near the size or quality of the one hung on the wall that had caught his interest. He wondered if he would ever get used to such luxury. Tapestries on the floor – how many other boys from Flea Bottom had ever seen that? He could scare believe it himself. Padding over to the tapestry, he stood before it with his arms folded, contemplating the scene.
The kneeling knight wore golden armour, worked in the finest, shimmering threads. His blond hair curled and fell to rest on his shoulders in a cascade of brown and gold. The knight's face was handsome and boyish. Although his eyes were closed, a knowing half smile curled his lips. He was obviously no Baratheon.
Up close, Gendry could see the craftsmanship and detail that had gone into depicting this beautiful knight. 'Twas obviously a labour of love, but who had loved this knight so much and why?
Gendry searched for more clues as to the knight's identity. He knelt on a field of small, blue flowers. Gendry vaguely recalled being told the name of these flowers; forget-me-nots, that was it! The knight grasped a sword in one hand and, strangely, an intricately worked, golden rose in the other. Gendry had seen that same rose recently, but where?
He stood for a while before the knight and stag, trying to recall why that rose was so familiar. When the answer finally came to him, 'twas so obviously, he nearly laughed aloud. 'Twas the rose of Highgarden as worn by Willas Tyrell. But there was no love lost between House Baratheon and House Tyrell. Mace Tyrell had laid siege to Storm's End not once, but twice. Ser Davos and his onions had saved House Baratheon from starvation and defeat the first time and, much as it pained Gendry to admit it, Aegon and his bloody Golden Company the second.
Gendry resolved to find out what was so special about this Tyrell knight and why the fuck he was positioned so that Gendry had to look at him from his bed.
Putting that mystery aside for the moment, he wanted to see for himself the views that Arya had mentioned last night. Not wanting to wake her, Gendry lifted the edge of the curtain and stepped in front, letting it fall back into place behind him with a swoosh. The magnificence of the view from his bedchamber sucked the breath out of his chest with a similar sound.
The sea, the sky, and Shipbreaker Bay stretched out before him in all their morning glory. The sun sparkled on the water and on the rugged, vertical cliffs that formed the bay. Far below him, white crested waves broke on the rocks and half a dozen or so boats, so small as to look like toys, sailed the bay or were outlined on the horizon.
Gendry knew the power of the sea. He had experienced the cruelty of it at Eastwatch; standing helpless on the shore as the galley Storm Crow fought against the tempest for hours and lost, going down with all hands within sight of land. He had thrown up with every other soldier as they battled winter seas to take the Iron Islands and he knew his father's parents had died in this very bay. But this morn' the sea seemed to reflect his own mood; calm, content and at peace with the rest of the world.
Grinning, Gendry stepped out from behind the curtain, ready to face the challenges of the day ahead. Much as he wanted to stay abed and make love to his beautiful wife, she needed to rest and he had much to accomplish afore this bloody feast tonight.
Leaving Arya snoring happily, he gathered up his sword from the floor where he had discarded it in haste the night before. He also found new leather britches and a shirt that had been thoughtfully left out for him, no doubt by Shireen. After he was dressed, he went in search of his boots. Preferring to go barefoot than wear those ridiculous silk slippers from last night, he opened the bedroom door as quietly as he could.
His boots were sitting in the corridor; at least he thought they were his boots, for he had never seen them clean. He had always presumed them to be a dull, matt black, but they were now so highly polished that they shone in the morning light. Shireen was no doubt to thank for this too and he would need to make a point of doing so. Smiling to himself at his all round good fortune, he took a last look back at his wife-to-be fast asleep in their bed and closed the door gently behind him.
As he strode into the hall, 'twas impossible to keep the grin off his face. He knew everyone would take him for a lovesick fool, but he did not care. The Great Hall of Storm's End could have been filled with The Others rather than men breaking their fast and still he would have faced them with a smile on his lips and joy in his heart.
Lem happened to be the first man Gendry saw as he walked in and, from the look of him, Lem did not share Gendry's enthusiasm for the day. His old friend cradled something in his arms and, despite his resolve to let nothing ruin this day, Gendry's heart sunk down to his gleaming boots. His view was blocked by Shireen, who stood with her back to him, but he could clearly see the grief etched on Lem's face .Was it someone or something Lem held in his arms? Was it Ty?
Gendry near ran in his haste to get to Lem. He sagged with relief when he saw over Shireen's shoulder that, rather than Ty hanging limp in Lem's arms, as Gendry had feared, his old friend cradled a bolt of cloth. It took Gendry a few moments to realise that the neatly folded material was Lem's old yellow cloak; only 'twas not so yellow any more.
Shireen was scolding a distraught Lem. "It stank, 'twas filthy and caked in that poor boy's blood. Of course I washed it!" She waged one finger at Lem, while the other hand was fisting on her hip.
"But it ain't yellow no more woman!" Lem wailed before thrusting the cloak out to Gendry like a babe being presented for blessing. "See!"
Gendry did see. Instead of the filthy yellow he had grown accustomed to over the years, Lem's clock was now a very clean shade of…well…lemon.
Realising Gendry was behind her, Shireen immediately dropped her eyes and hung her head. Her black hair fell over her face, shielding it from view.
"Bleaching was the only way to remove the blood stains." Shireen muttered, clasping her hands nervously before her.
Gendry did not intend to let his friends' squabble spoil his mood. Stepping forwards, he clasped Lem by the shoulder.
"Old friend, do you not see that this new, lemon cloak actually suits you better? We have not called you Lem 'yellow' cloak afore have we? It has always been and will always be Lem lemon cloak."
"I suppose so," Lem admitted grudgingly as Gendry gave Lem's big shoulder a brotherly squeeze.
"See? Lemon is perfect!" Gendry winked at Shireen who was peeking up at him from under her hair. "Although I suppose we could yellow it up a bit if you really wanted. I'm sure every man in Bad Company would piss in a barrel for you. If we soaked it in that for a few days, it would do the job nicely, don't you think Shireen?"
"Yes My Lord." Shireen agreed brightly, playing along with Gendry's game. He decided to let her 'My Lord' pass unchecked on this occasion.
"Ach, there's no need for all that…" Lem muttered, clearly unhappy at the thought of his beloved cloak being dunked in a barrel of piss.
"Then let's leave Lady Shireen to get on with organising our feast and you and I shall find Davos. I have a pressing need to talk to him about a few things…" Gendry winked again at Shireen, before steering Lem off towards the dais at the far end of the room. Davos sat there with some other men he did not recognise, breaking their fast.
"Aye…all right then." Lem muttered, still sounding aggrieved and cradling his cloak much as a mother might clutch a babe to her breast.
Men stopped talking, set their spoons down and turned to stare as Lord Baratheon and his companion walked through the long rows of tables. He could see men from Bad Company sat together, near the far wall and his right hand itched for the comfort of his sword as he made his way through the rows of silent men he did not recognise.
These must all be men of Storm's End or mayhaps even Golden Company he thought. He saw little outright hostility on their faces, but neither did he see smiles of welcome. His good mood looked set to be tested yet further. Davos was right; he would have to assert his authority over every man here and soon.
Ser Davos made a show of standing and bowing low as Lord Baratheon approached the dais. The other two men beside him scraped their chairs back and stood with rather less enthusiasm, particularly the shorter, younger one who did not even bother to hide the contempt he obviously felt. He was a man to watch, Gendry thought grimly. Following their leader's example, chairs all around the hall were slowly scraped back and men began to rise.
"I'll go and sit with the rest of the boys…"Lem muttered under his breath, taking a step away. Gendry tightened his grip on Lem's shoulder. Being careful to keep a smile plastered to his face, he hissed, "Nae. You had best stay by my side until we are sure where we stand with these men."
"Aye." Lem groaned under his breath. "I would rather fight a battle where I knew my enemy was the man coming at me with a sword in his hand. Instead I face these scheming cunts who would smile at me while they stab me in the back."
"I doubt these ones would even bother with the smile," Gendry murmured, his own forced smile fixed on his face.
Gendry and Lem walked up the steps to the dais. Davos introduced the two men as "Ser Marq Mandrake and Ser Tristan Rivers. Commanders of Golden Company."
Without acknowledging their presence, Gendry turned to the hall, threw his arms wide and, in the voice he imagined his father would have used on such occasions, boomed, "Friends, your Lord commands you to be seated."
Out of the corner of his eye, Gendry saw Ser Mandrake and Ser Rivers exchange glances, before slowly sitting down.
"Nicely done My Lord," Davos muttered out of the side of his mouth.
Gendry made sure to let everyone else sit before he did so himself. As serving girls rushed to provide bowls of thick oatmeal and jugs of cream, Gendry finally turned to the two Sers. Ser Mandrake obviously had a hot head, for he was scarlet and looked fit to burst at what he perceived was a snub from this upstart young Lord. Ser Rivers was taller, older and was regarding Gendry carefully, as if eyeing up an opponent before a tourney. Gendry saw a grudging respect for him in the older man's eyes.
"I am grateful to you for your assistance here Ser Mandrake, Ser Rivers," Gendry nodded to each knight. "I am sure that, as you are no longer needed here, you will be anxious to return to Golden Company."
"And who says we are not needed here?" Ser Mandrake snapped. "We have defended this castle for three long years in the name of Aegon Targaryen."
Gendry refrained from pointing out they had done nothing to defend The Stormlands from Edric. He was a fool if he expected anything more from sellswords.
"Forgive me, but I understand King Aegon has not paid for your services for several years? My understanding of sellswords was that they considered their employment to be terminated if their fees were not paid, but mayhaps I am wrong, for I have never had the inclination to sell my sword," Lord Baratheon said coolly, drawing his magnificent Valyrian steel sword a few inches out from its scabbard, just because he could. Ser Mandrake looked as if he was ready to spit blood.
"In any event, one thousand Bad Company swords say you are no longer needed here."
"And what say you, Lord Baratheon?" Ser Rivers asked, placing a warning hand on Ser Mandrake's arm as the younger man reached for his own sword.
"I say that one thousand and one swords can be a very persuasive argument." Gendry rested his hand on the bejewelled pommel of Oathbreaker and gave the two Sers a wolfish grin.
With his hand still on his companion's arm, Ser Rivers stood up, closely followed by Ser Mandrake.
"If you have no need of us, we shall let you break your fast in peace Lord Baratheon," Ser Rivers said, bowing low. Ser Mandrake made no attempt to bow and Gendry watched the two of them leave with narrowed eyes.
"What do you know of them?" he asked Davos once the Golden Company Commanders were out of earshot.
"That their fighting days are over, otherwise why would they stay here? Ser Rivers is smart enough to know a winning horse when he sees one. He will back you, but Ser Mandrake…he's an arse and has treated Storm's End like his own little Kingdom since he arrived. I don't think you'll get rid of him easily."
"We'll see," Gendry mused, a plan to assert his authority at the feast tonight already beginning to form in his mind.
Lem had more immediate interests, digging into his bowl of porridge and asking Davos to tell them about Edric Storm and how he came to lead the band of outlaws. "And why no fucker lifted a finger to stop him," Lem added with a growl.
Davos' eyes flashed angrily as he held up his maimed hand, "If I could wield a sword, I would have hunted them down myself."
"He did not mean to give offence Ser Davos," Gendry said in an appeasing tone. "Edric had an army and even the Onion Knight who saved Storm's End single handedly, is no match for an army."
Lem nodded his agreement and kept eating as Gendry continued, "Lord Buckler told us he needed all his men to protect Bronzegate, although we suspect he did a deal with Edric, for Bronzegate seemed to be the only place in the northern Stormlands that did not suffer Edric's raids." Gendry leaned forwards, "But tell me Ser Davos, how did Storm's End come to be untouched?"
Davos tugged at his greying beard, grimaced and shook his head wearily.
"I can assure you there was no deal done with Edric here. Edric stayed away from Storm's End as he knew that, if attacked, our Golden Company friends would fight back. But providing Edric kept his distance – why would they bother? What do they care for the Stormlands? They only care for gold. After Renly and Stannis called their banners, there were not enough Stormlands men left to make up an army and, more importantly, no commander to lead them, save Edric."
Gendry groaned, rested his elbows on the table and ran his hands through his hair. So many times he had wished he could have been here earlier. Years earlier. But he was not Lord Baratheon then and mayhaps Jon would not have faired so well without Bad Company fighting by his side. There was no point in wondering 'what if?' Gendry was here now and determined to make up for lost time.
"So why did Edric Storm turn against his own people?" Gendry asked wearily.
"I believe you are the cause of that Lord Baratheon…"
"Me?" Gendry repeated incredulously.
"Aye, you. Think back to the time we all spent together at The Wall." Davos said pouring himself a cup of ale and settling back to begin his tale.
Gendry and Lem were both eager to hear Davos tell of what had transpired in the years since they last met.
"I hold myself responsible for taking Edric to The Wall in the first place and for much that transpired thereafter," Davos sighed, tugging at his grey beard. "You will recall that after Stannis died 'twas agreed I would escort Lady Selyse and Shireen back to Dragonstone."
Gendry and Lem confirmed that was their recollection too and leaned closer.
"The way I remember it," Davos continued, "'twas not the plan that Edric would accompany us. However, I doubt anyone at The Wall was particularly sad to see him leave or anxious for him to stay."
Gendry nodded. He had been too preoccupied with the life or death struggle against The Others to concern himself with Edric Storm. If he was being honest, his initial fascination with his half brother had quickly waned once he discovered they had nothing in common save their black hair and blue eyes.
"I recall Edric being jealous of you," Lem said to Gendry, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.
The truth of it was that Gendry had been jealous of Edric when they first met, for Edric had been acknowledged and given everything a King's son should have – save his father's name. However, it was soon apparent that Edric had more interest in playing at war, than actually fighting one. He was keen to sit on the war council and rattle his sword, but preferred to hide behind the walls of Eastwatch or Castle Black while others fought and died.
"Do you not recall Stannis dismissing Edric as 'a little bastard Renly'?" Lem asked.
"Aye, I do, but what has that got to do with me?" Gendry asked.
"Stannis sneered at Edric, but he took a shine to you," Lem chuckled.
Gendry had fought side by side with Stannis against The Others, but he certainly did not recall ever thinking Stannis had "taken a shine to him" as Lem put it.
Davos also chuckled at Gendry's confusion. "As Stannis didn't give you to the red woman, didn't compare you to Renly and never chopped your damn fingers off, I think we can agree Stannis liked you, or as close as he ever got to liking anyone."
Gendry shrugged. 'Twas all in the past now and he could not see that it mattered whether Stannis liked him or not.
"Aye, Edric was jealous," Davos said, "for although he had advantages you did not, you have never been afraid of any fight and you'll choose the side of right, no matter the odds – just like your uncle Stannis."
Gendry rolled his eyes. It never ceased to amaze him that Davos spoke so highly of Stannis, when the miserable old git had chopped the Onion Knight's fingers off.
"'Twas because he could not compete with you in battle that Edric accompanied us on the long journey south," Davos continued. "Mayhaps he hoped you would die at The Wall and The Others would rid him of his rival. During the journey I began to realise that Edric's ambitions to gain a title and lands burned brighter than any of us thought. Because of his martial failings at The Wall, 'twas clear that, if Edric was to realise his ambition, he would need to rely on something other than the strength of his sword arm."
"The Gods know he wouldn't get far relying on that," Lem snorted in disgust.
"So how did he propose to gain a title and lands?" Gendry asked impatiently.
"By wedding Shireen."
"The little shit!" Lem exclaimed, banging his fist on the table, "Shireen was his cousin and a more innocent child did not exist!"
"Aye." Davos agreed, rubbing his two hands over his face. One hand had long, strong fingers; the other only gnarled stumps. "And with that mad mother of hers not caring two figs about her and with Shireen being so naive, she was easy pickings for a scheming bastard like Edric." Remembering the reprimand he had earned the last time he had used the word bastard, Davos nodded to Gendry and muttered, "Apologies My Lord, but you know what I mean."
Gendry couldn't help but grin, "'Tis quite apt in the circumstances Ser Davos. Please continue with your tale."
"Aye, well, the bold Edric decided that marrying the only legitimate Baratheon heir was easier than fighting for lands or a title."
Gendry raised his eyebrows at that, although Davos seemed oblivious.
"I didn't realise what was going on at first. It never occurred to me he would try something like that, what with them being cousins and all."
Lem snorted, "Cousin's ain't so bad. There's been a hell of a lot worse going on with them Targaryens and Lannisters."
"Mayhaps if he hadn't fucked every single one of Selyse's handmaidens on the journey, I might have had had more faith that his intentions towards Shireen were honourable," Davos said. "He'd spend half the day in the wheelhouse with the woman and I'd hear them all giggling and laughing. Aye, he was working on Selyse too – not that she took much persuading. If I hadn't kept the wheelhouse guarded at night by men I could trust, I dare say Edric would have ruined Shireen afore we made it to Dragonstone and then they would have had to marry."
"I commend you on your vigilance Ser Davos," Gendry said seriously. Davos dismissed the compliment with a wave of his maimed hand.
"Damage was still done. I tried to speak to Selyse, but I would have been as well speaking to one of those Dragonstone gargoyles she loves so much. All she was interested in was the King's blood running through Edric's veins. Edric had convinced her 'twould be the start of a glorious new era for them all. She still holds to that damn Red God you know. I pity the poor bastards stuck down there in Dragonstone with her." Davos sighed, gazing down at his cup of ale, oblivious to the fact he had used the word "bastard" yet again.
'Twas Gendry's turn to sigh, "And what did Shireen think of Edric's plan to wed her?"
Davos groaned and lowered his voice to a whisper, as if afraid they were being overheard, "You must not tell Shireen I have told you this, for she is mortally embarrassed by it now. She thought herself in love with Edric then. He had what I believe was your father's way with women," Davos said darkly, while glaring at Gendry, as if he was somehow to blame for Edric's charm. "She had never had a man show so much as a passing interest in her before and her head was easily turned by Edric and his silver tongue. He had her under his spell. All he had to do was snap his fingers and she would come running."
"So how come they ain't married and Edric ain't Lord of Dragonstone right now?" Lem asked.
"On the last night afore we sailed for Dragonstone, I took Shireen for a walk along the beach where I knew Edric had arranged to meet two of Selyse's handmaidens and, as I had hoped, we caught them in the act. Shireen turned and fled, but 'twas enough to break the spell he had over her."
"And Selyse? Did this break the hold he had over her too?" Gendry asked, for it was natural that an innocent maid like Shireen be shocked by finding her betrothed fucking the servants. But Selyse was another matter. She was a cunning bitch. Gendry remembered well enough Selyse's schemes to marry Gerrick Kingsbloods' three daughters to three of her knights. Shireen would not be the first daughter forced to wed a man who blatantly fucked serving wenches under his young wife's nose.
"Ah, well…" Davos said with a grin, "I had a suspicion Edric was not only fucking the handmaidens but their Lady too. Selyse was quite happy to betray her own daughter by fucking Edric but she could not forgive Edric for betraying her."
"Edric fucked old Selyse Florent?" Lem spluttered incredulously. "Mayhaps Edric had more guts than I thought."
"Ambition will drive a man to do things normally considered beyond the pale," Davos agreed.
Gendry had to nod his agreement. He would not have fucked Selyse Florent for any lands or title, but what had driven him to rise from the sewers of Flea Bottom if 'twas not ambition and principally his ambition to prove himself worthy of Lady Ayra Stark?
"That very night I stole a boat and took Shireen to Storm's End. Edric found himself abandoned by both Shireen and Selyse, his plans to gain lands and wealth by marriage in ruins. He was going to take what he felt he was entitled to right way or wrong. He found support amongst the dregs of the Stormlanders, became an outlaw and stole what he could not obtain by any other means."
"Why did you bring Shireen here?" Lem asked
"Where else was I to take a Baratheon Lady, during a war?" Davos growled. "The bast…men of Golden Company had no love for Stannis, but I hoped the smallfolk here would take Shireen to their hearts and so they have."
"Aye, she certainly has Storm's End and everyone one here under her thumb," Gendry muttered, remembering how fear of Shireen had made him tidy up his clothes and that bloody rag last night even though 'twas his room and he had Arya waiting for him, naked in his bed. The memory brought a smile to his face for several reasons.
"You need to arrange for her to wed as soon as possible," Davos demanded finally.
"Me?" Gendry near yelped.
"Aye. As head of House Baratheon 'tis your responsibility to ensure your House survives and thrives and that includes making marriage alliances for your kin as well as producing your own heir."
"He was certainly doing his best to plant his seed last night!" Lem guffawed, slapping Gendry's back so hard that ale from the cup he held in his hand sloshed over the table. When Davos also expressed his approval by slapping his back, Gendry was forced to accept their congratulations with good grace. This only confirmed what he already knew; in a castle there were no secrets. From the lowest kitchen wench to the highest Lord, everyone knew everyone else's business.
"Shireen is well past the marrying age, but with the war and no father or uncles to arrange a match for her and a mad mother…"
"And that greyscale," Lem added, to a snort of disapproval from Gendry.
"What?! I'm only saying aloud what we're all thinking." Lem huffed. "Your great lords are in short supply now seeing as we did for half of them during the war and the ones that are left ain't exactly going to be falling over themselves to wed Shireen."
"So you must give her Dragonstone as a dowry." Davos said to Gendry. The old man's eyes bored into him. Gendry suspected Davos was warning him not to oppose his plans for Shireen.
Lord Gendry Baratheon, the first of his name (but hopefully not the last) blew out a long sigh. His good mood was rapidly disappearing. Sellswords in his castle, marriages, dowries; all problems he had hoped never to encounter.
"I have no use for Dragonstone," Gendry conceded. "Shireen can have it for her dowry."
"Does that not mean you have to get rid of the mother first?" Lem wondered.
"Exactly." Davos grinned.
Gendry blew out an even longer and deeper sigh. He had walked into that one. Sellswords, marriages, dowries and now he could add mad mothers to his list of problems.
"Let us find her a suitable husband first and then worry about Selyse." He decided. He could only cope with so much this early in the morning.
"So you'll take Shireen back to King's Landing with you, find a suitable husband for her there and gift her Drangonstone?" Davos asked, only 'twas not really a request – more of a demand.
"Aye, she can return with us to King's Landing," Gendry agreed, trying to think of any eligible men who would make a good alliance for House Baratheon. If he had a choice, he wanted a strong lord who would hold Dragonstone for him. He came up with no one – not a single name. Lem had been right; seven years of war had decimated the sons and heirs of the Great Houses of Westeros.
Gendry decided he would put that problem off too. Mayhaps, when they arrived in King's Landing, the Dragon Queen might take the matter out of his hands. He suspected Daenerys might even enjoy such an onerous task. He had more pressing problems to attend to.
"Now we are agreed how to deal with Lady Shireen, can we decide how we are going to deal with Golden Company…"
-o-
Arya was woken by sunlight flooding into the room, but 'twas not Gendry she saw when she opened her eyes. Instead she saw Shireen bustling around, pulling open the curtains.
With a groan Arya sat up, dragged her hands through her hair, yawned and muttered "What time is it?"
"Time to get up." Shireen said, as she yanked back another set of curtains to let even more light into the room. "I have arranged for food to be brought here as you have slept past the mid-day meal. Then you must bathe and prepare for the feast tonight."
Arya yawned again and was about to protest when a maidservant appeared at the door bearing a tray laden with delicious smelling food. Arya's growling stomach was quite ready to comply with Shireen's demands even if Arya was not. She had not eaten much the day before and her stomach had been far too full of butterflies to manage more than a few mouthfuls when she sat down by the fire with Gendry last night.
The maidservant placed the tray on a table beside the bed, curtseyed and retreated quickly. Shireen nodded a brisk approval to the woman before dismissing her.
"How is Ty?" Arya asked between mouthfuls of peaches and cream.
Did she imagine it, or did Shireen blush slightly as she answered, "He had a restless night, but Maester Pylos says that is a sign of his healing."
"Good," Arya said, watching Shireen closely for any other signs that something was amiss, but without seeing either her eyes or even getting a clear view of her face, 'twas difficult to read Shireen. The Faceless Men taught that to know what a man was thinking was to know his weakness. Once you knew his weakness, you could exploit it. The emotions she had been taught to seek out were greed, envy, lust and pride. Mayhaps woman were harder to read, for Arya had little experience of them or mayhaps Shireen had none of those weaknesses. But she had others; there was no doubt about that.
"Why do you never meet my eyes when we talk Shireen?" Arya asked.
Shireen pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. "On this occasion, 'tis because you are undressed."
"Oh." Arya said, surprised. "I had not realised bare skin made you uncomfortable."
Arya recalled having a robe somewhere. She looked around the room, before finding it folded by the fire. She remembered telling Gendry she had been too warm last night. He had seemed to appreciate her removing the robe, but that was nothing compared to his reaction when she told him she agreed to a betrothal.
Smiling to herself as she recalled what happened next, Arya swung her feet out of bed and then moaned in pain as several parts of her body protested all at once. Her shoulders and arms still ached from the ride, but the more insistent pain came from her thighs, her bottom and between her legs. Parts of her body well used for the first time last night made their discomfort known as she walked stiffly over to the fireplace. Pulling on her robe produced another involuntary groan.
"Maester Pylos has provided healing herbs for your bath." Shireen said as she walked over to the bed and picked Arya's discarded shift up from the floor.
Arya muttered her thanks. Mayhaps a bath would sooth her aching muscles and…other places. Tying the belt of her silk robe around her waist, Arya walked back towards Shireen who held the shift up to fold it, then realised 'twas torn straight down the middle. Her eyes flew open in surprise.
"Um…sorry abut that," Arya muttered. "Can it be mended?"
Shireen hastily rolled the ripped shift up in a tight ball, "It will make good polishing cloths," she said, her voice high pitched and strained by her obvious discomfort.
"The sheet might be ruined too…" Arya muttered, pulling a face. Oh why did she have to have this discussion with Shireen of all people?
Shireen threw back the bedcovers and the two women stared at the bloody sheet. The maiden's mark was at the very edge of the bed. Embarrassment flushed Arya's face scarlet.
In truth, she was surprised they had made it to the bed at all that first time. In the heat of the moment, she had not realised Gendry's feet must have still been on the ground. 'Twas no wonder he had seemed angry with himself after. Bedding her while wearing a pink silk robe and his small clothes around his knees was probably not how Gendry had imagined their first joining. 'Twas not how she had imagined it either, but all the same, she had not been disappointed. Remembering the hot, urgent passion of it made Arya's toes curl and that place between her legs ache even more, but 'twas an enticing ache, full of anticipation.
Arya was so lost in her lascivious thoughts that she was only vaguely aware of Shireen asking her a question.
"Pardon?" Arya managed to splutter.
"Your wedding night." Shireen repeated as she pulled the sheet off the bed. "Do you wish to keep this sheet for the bedding?"
Although she was avoiding meeting Arya's eyes, from the colour of her face, Shireen was as embarrassed by this as Arya was herself.
"Um…I think not. A little blood can be easily produced if needs be."
Shireen was obviously horrified by that suggestion. Arya was not sure if Shireen was shocked by the idea of inflicting an unnecessary wound or by the thought of proclaiming oneself a maiden when 'twas not true.
"Will you cut yourself?" Shireen gasped.
"I'll not cut myself stupid! I'll cut Gendry. Just a little. He'll not mind. Mutch." Arya chuckled. Shireen giggled, immediately covering her mouth with her hand, as if ashamed to be laughing at such a wicked thing.
Arya could not imagine Sansa laughing at that. Mayhaps Shireen was not as prim as Arya had first thought. Full of the joys of her first bedding, Arya wanted to share her excitement with someone.
"How about you Shireen? Is there a man you have dreamed of lying with?" Arya asked, sitting down on the bed and patting the space beside her.
Shireen looked at the bed where Arya's hand rested, shook her head and clutched the bloody sheet closer to her chest.
Unperturbed, Arya continued, "Mayhaps you have not met the right man yet. I never imagined I would want any man until I met Gendry…well, met him again."
Shireen said nothing and her eyes remained downcast. Her only response was to incline her head slightly towards Arya. Arya took that as a sign to continue.
"I knew him before, when we were children, but I thought he was stupid and smelly then." Arya laughed as she remembered rolling around Lady Smallwood's forge with Gendry and grinned as she recalled his recent confession that he had wanted to do more than just tickle her. "I suppose I liked him well enough, but I was too young then. Mayhaps the right person, but the wrong time? What about you?"
Shireen shook her head and turned away to gaze out of the window, still hugging the bloody sheet to her chest. Arya got up from the bed to stand beside her and, after a moment's hesitation, put her arm gently around Shireen's shoulder.
"I did not mean to upset you," Arya whispered as a single, plump tear rolled down Shireen's cheek. Giving herself a shake, Shireen sniffed and wiped the tear away on the back of her hand. Arya had seen that sad, wistful expression before; Sansa had worn an identical expression on the night of the feast in King's Landing. That night Arya had felt closer to her sister than ever before, but even then, Arya had not asked Sansa what caused her unhappiness. She did not intend to make the same mistake now.
"You do not need to tell me, but I would like us to be as sisters. Goodsisters," she said, giving Shireen's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "and mayhaps I can help?"
Shireen turned her shoulders ever so slightly towards Arya, lifted her head and for the first time, shyly met another high born lady's gaze. Shireen waited for Arya to grimace as she saw the full extent of the greyscale or even recoil in horror, but Arya did not so much as flinch.
Shireen so wanted to be like Arya, to be bold and wild, to travel to exotic lands, to not care what anyone else thought of her and, more than anything, Shireen wanted someone to wed her for love. She had bottled everything up inside for so long, that this little sympathy from Arya was enough to make Shireen's stoic facade crumble. Her breath came in ragged sobs as she told, for the first time, how she had fallen in love with, and ultimately been betrayed by, Edric Storm.
-o-
Gendry's breath caught in the back of his throat as he watched Arya walk towards the dais, her eyes never leaving his. She was wearing a dress; red like she had worn in King's Landing. But 'twas not the dress that made him unable to tear his eyes away, that made him oblivious to everyone and everything around him.
Nae, 'twas the fire in her eyes that lit an answering one in his belly; 'twas the proud curve of her neck, the lithe, deadly grace of her walk, the sensual roll of her hips. 'Twas the memory of her legs around his hips, her tongue in his mouth, his cock and his seed deep inside of her that made him realise he was lost. If she asked him to follow her to the ends of the earth he would do it; anything to have her, to possess her and not lose her again.
He held his hand out as she approached. As she placed his hand in his, he bent his head to brush his lips across the back of her hand. "Milady" he murmured.
"My Lord," she replied with a wicked smile that sent blood pounding through his veins and straight to his cock. After all those frustrated nights under the furs, he had not thought it possible to want her any more than he had, but he was wrong. He wanted her with an urgency and a need that both shocked and excited him.
He motioned for her to sit by his side. Arranged around them on the dais were various minor lords he had met only today and the sellswords Ser Marq Mandrake and Ser Tristan Rivers. Davos' and Lem's were the only familiar, friendly faces.
Not caring what anyone else thought, as he pushed Arya's chair in behind her, he whispered against her ear, "'Tis a pretty dress, but I would prefer to see you naked," The deep flush of her cheeks pleased him no end.
Sitting down, Gendry not only had to adjust his sword belt, which he had deliberately worn tonight, but he had to adjust his britches to accommodate his straining cock. Only when he was comfortably seated, did he notice that everyone else was still standing, awaiting his command, "Sit!" he bellowed, with more force than he intended.
Immediately the Great Hall was filled with noise; chairs scraping, people talking, cups being filled.
"How are you?" he asked, hoping Arya understood what part of her he was particularly concerned about. Gendry did not know how long it took a woman's body to heal after the first time, particularly when that first time had been followed by two more times. He had already resigned himself to a few more nights of frustration, but still, he hoped she was a fast healer.
"How am I?" she repeated. "Well, this dress is so tight I can hardly breathe, my feet are pinched in these fancy dancing slippers and I swear Shireen was trying to stab me with hair pins earlier," Arya said stiffly, pretending not to understand what Gendry meant.
"Oh." Was all he said, but his face fell, disappointment writ large all over it. What woman would not want to do anything she could to bring the sparkle back to those sky-blue eyes of his? Arya was delighted to see how much he wanted her and 'twas all she could do not to laugh.
"And how are you My Lord?" she asked, trying hard to stifle a grin and not entirely succeeding.
He shrugged and sighed, "My Lordly duties have taken up all of my day and I suspect tomorrow will be no different… and the day after that…and the day beyond that. There is a never ending stream of people who want something from me."
Arya slipped her hand under the table to rest on the crotch of his soft leather britches. His eyes widened in surprise and his cock, already hard, twitched and rose higher under her hand.
She leaned across him on the pretext of lifting his wine cup and took the opportunity to murmur softly, "I want something from you too…" as she stroked her hand firmly up and down his leather encased cock.
"Aye," he gasped gruffly. "Name it and it shall be yours."
"I want you to find a husband for Shireen. A good one."
"What?" he hissed. That was not what he had expected or hoped she would say.
"You heard me. A husband for Shireen."
Gendry grunted and lifted her hand from his crotch to drop in back into her own lap.
"Davos beat you to that request. It seems my most pressing duty here is not to rid myself of bloody sellswords, to secure the castle's defences or supplies, but to find a good match for my cousin."
"Not a good match. A good husband." Arya corrected him.
"I have already agreed with Ser Davos that she will return with us to King's Landing. I will deal with the matter then, but until we are back in the bloody Red Keep, I don't want to hear another word about it." Gendry said through gritted teeth.
"But…"
"Arya," he growled, "I need to secure my position, our position, here. Much as I want to see Shireen happily wed, if I do not attend to essential matters first, all our struggles, all my struggles, will be for naught."
"But…"
"Nae," he snapped, cutting her off. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a very small child, "Do not vex me on this. You have my promise that I will attend to it in King's Landing. Until then …not…another…word."
"Fine." Arya huffed, crossing her arms, wishing she had worn her britches after all and not bothered with this bloody red dress Shireen had found for her. Why had she been so eager to please him anyway?
"Do you have Needle strapped to your thigh?"
Arya scowled at him, before muttering, "Of course."
"Good. Be ready in case this does not go according to plan."
With a deep intake of breath, Lord Baratheon stood and called for attention. As he had anticipated, the men of Bad Company and most of the men and woman of Storm's End fell silent immediately but more than a few of the men from Golden Company continued with their conversations, deliberately defying his command.
'Twas for this reason he had ordered Davos to seat the loyal men of Bad Company at the sides of the hall. With their weapons hidden under their tables, they would be able to control every exit, if required.
"Friends, people of Storm's End, brothers-in arms," he began, raising his cup, "A toast to The Three Headed Dragon." He was pleased to note that every person in the hall raised their cup.
"'Tis by their command I am made Lord Baratheon of Storm's End." As expected, that provoked a rather more subdued reaction, the men of Golden Company being noticeably silent.
"As my father's son and the rightful heir to House Baratheon, 'tis my intention to make the Stormlands great again! I will do this with your support, with Lady Arya of House Stark by my side and the men of Bad Company behind me!"
Although he did not look directly at her, he was aware of Arya's cup stopping halfway to her lips. A tremendous cheer went up from his men, positioned all around the hall. The men of Golden Company began to look nervous, belatedly realising they were surrounded.
"I wish to thank the men of Golden Company for their service to Storm's End and House Baratheon. A toast to Golden Company!"
Although they raised their cups, by now the men of Golden Company were in a state of near panic. Gendry saw hands reaching for swords that were not there, for he had insisted every man remove their weapons before entering the Great Hall. Seeing the men of Bad Company comply, the men of Golden Company had reluctantly agreed. No doubt they were beginning to question the wisdom of that decision.
Gendry drained his cup before bringing it crashing down onto the table. "Men of Golden Company, I thank you and I relieve you of your duties. You are free to leave. Now."
Gendry spread his arms and his hands wide, indicating the doors at either side of the hall, guarded by his loyal men.
There was consternation and confusion amongst the sellswords of Golden Company and on the dais Ser Mandrake and Ser Rivers were openly arguing. Gendry smiled as Lem and Davos moved into position behind the unarmed sellsword Commanders. Gendry rested his own hand on the pommel of his sword.
To Gendry's surprise Tristan Rivers, shoved Marq Mandrake aside and strode towards him. Gendry's sword was half way out of his scabbard and Lem's hands were on Ser Rivers' shoulders when the big man dropped to his knee before Lord Baratheon.
"My Lord!" the sellsword shouted above the confusion. Gendry held his hand up and the hall fell silent, expectation weighing heavily in the air.
"My Lord Baratheon," Ser Rivers repeated, "I have a woman here, three children and another on the way. I will gladly swear my allegiance to you and to House Baratheon. If you grant me leave to remain, my sword is yours."
Immediately Ser Rivers speech was finished, more shouts came from the floor of the hall, "I have a wife and child too!", "I will swear allegiance!" and some cries of "House Baratheon" from the men in the centre of the hall.
Gendry glanced towards Lem and Davos who both nodded their consent.
Sliding Oathbreaker, back into its scabbard, Gendry also nodded. "Very well. Those who bend the knee and swear allegiance to me and to House Baratheon are free to remain at Storm's End."
There was more confusion on the floor of the hall and a few scuffles broke out as a significant number of the Golden Company men pushed their way through the crowd to kneel at the front of the dais. Ser Rivers remained kneeling, but Ser Mandrake looked furious, his face scarlet with rage. Gendry could see from his position on the dais what the men on the floor could not. In addition to a restraining hand on Marq Mandrake's shoulder, Ser Davos held a knife to the sellsword's back.
"The rest of you are free to leave," Gendry thundered. "Your weapons will be returned to you once you are outwith my castle walls."
Amid grumbling and pushing and in some cases jeering, the rest of Golden Company, including Ser Mandrake, was herded to the doors in order that they could make their way from the hall.
Once they had cleared the room, Gendry asked Arya to stand by his side. Together they accepted the oaths of the kneeling men and only then did Gendry begin to accept that Storm's End was truly his.
Thanks to Brazilian Guy for saving my ass (again) and for always being there when I need him.
I'm intending to post next Friday and I hope not to have another week off until we're done. I think we have 3 more chapters to go, but I always seem to find more I want to say, so that might turn out to be a rather elastic prediction.
Until next Friday…