Chapter 28

Return to the Red Keep

'Twas their last night under the stars and it should have been perfect. They had made their own fire and spread their furs far away from the rest of Bad Company. With no moon to dim their brilliance, the stars twinkled happily above on this clear, crisp spring night.

Arya had been looking forward to returning to The Red Keep, to seeing Sansa and Jon and to wedding Gendry since they left Storm's End, so why did she feel anxious and apprehensive now?

When she should be looking to the future, why could she not stop thinking of the past and all the mistakes she had made?

She sat beside the fire, hugging her knees to her chest, trying not to think of Braavos or Brienne or her list. She tried to think on Sansa and Jon, but even that did not ease her mind, for it only brought to mind the events leading up to her fleeing The Red Keep. She had never told Sansa she was leaving, she thought guiltily. Having lost each other once before, she owed it to her sister not to disappear again. She vowed to apologise to Sansa on the morrow.

Jon would be smugly delighted that she was to wed Gendry, for that was what her brother had wanted from the outset; a Baratheon alliance. Had he not promised she would like the Lord he had chosen for her and, seven buggering hells, had he not been right? However hearing Jon say "I told you so," was the least of her worries.

She had been such a fool with Sansa, thinking her sister would try and take Gendry from her. But in The Red Keep nothing was as it seemed. 'Twas no wonder Gendry hated the place and she had even more reason to hate it than he. Her father had been murdered there and the closer they got to it, the more the events of the past seemed to be weighing on her mind.

She would simply not think about Braavos or Brienne or her list or The Red Keep or anyone in it she decided. But not thinking about all the problems that seemed to be gathering around her like storm clouds, left her with little else she could think on. Her mind wandered back to the Stormlands. So many wonderful, joyous things had happened there, yet tonight she only seemed to be able to dwell on the bad.

When Gendry appeared suddenly from the darkness she blurted out,

"Do you think Lady Fell thinks I'm a fool?" afore he had even sat down.

Gendry groaned inwardly. If he told her the truth would she still let him into her britches tonight? He had thought about little else all day save making love to her tonight; except when Aegon had near landed Rhaegal on top of their heads. He was still seething about that.

"Why do you care what Lady Fell thinks?" he asked as he unbuckled his sword belt and laid it down carefully beside where they would sleep tonight. He never liked having his sword out of reach. How many more nights would he have Oathbreaker to hand?

"You will be wed to her liege Lord when we return and we do not have to stop at Fellwood Keep on the way home if you do not want to." There. He thought he had side stepped that question quite neatly.

"Aaargh. You might as well just say it. She does. I know she does."

He shook out their furs, using the time to consider his reply carefully. "You apologised. She accepted. I doubt Harlan will even remember. 'Tis the end of it."

Arya grimaced and groaned and messed her hair up with her hands. "Why can I not be like Sansa and always know the right thing to say and when to say it?"

"Because if you were like Sansa, you and I would not be here." Gendry said as he shrugged off his boiled leather jerkin, balled it into a pillow and lay down in the furs.

"And I want you here," he growled, lifting the top fur in an invitation for her to join him.

To his intense frustration, she made no move away from her seat by the fire. He dropped the fur and rolled onto his side, head propped on his elbow to watch her. Even after all these years, seeing a woman bathed in firelight reminded him of that witch Melisandre. He pushed that unpleasant thought to the back of his mind before it could threaten his tumescent desire for Arya.

Arya looked morosely into the flames. "I had better tell you this before we return to The Red Keep and before you find out from someone else…"

He frowned, concerned. He did not like surprises and Arya's surprises tended to be more shocking than most.

"Someone else? Like who?"

"Daenerys or Jon… or Sansa."

Gendry sighed with relief. At least bloody Aegon wasn't in on this 'surprise', whatever it was. If he heard that Targaryen's name mentioned once more today, 'twould ruin his day altogether.

Arya let go of her knees and kicked at the edges of the fire with her boots. In the firelight he could see her biting her lip and 'twas unfortunately not in a flirtatious or amorous way. She was nervous and he realised he was probably not going to like what he was about to hear.

"Well, are you going to tell me or not?" he asked wearily.

"'Tis embarrassing now, but…before you left for the Stormlands, I saw you and Sansa together outside her room."

"And…?" he asked, relieved, but puzzled. He had not thought Sansa would have revealed the secret of the new clothes he had commissioned for Arya and, in any event, new clothes were hardly worthy of the aguish Arya seemed to be suffering.

But if 'twas not about the clothes, then what did Arya have to confess?

Arya took a deep breath and let it all come out, "…the two of you were laughing and she hugged you and she is so beautiful that I thought you wanted her and not me and that's why I never came to you the night before you left."

Gendry shook his head, held up the furs again and, in his most commanding voice, gave her an order.

"Come here."

He half expected her to do the opposite of what he asked, as she usually did, but she hurried over and meekly slunk under the furs, lying on her side, facing him but not touching or even looking at him.

He took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and titled her head up until she had no choice but to look him in the eye,

"From the first time I laid eyes on you, I have never imagined spending my life with another woman. I want only you, I always have and I always will."

"I know," said Arya in a small, miserable voice.

"Then you must never doubt it," he said as he grazed his thumb over her bottom lip, wanting to kiss her senseless and show her how strong his love for her was. But she seemed in the mood to talk rather than kiss, so like the good husband he wanted to be, he listened.

"When we are together here and in Storm's End, I can believe it…" she said hesitantly, "…but in The Red Keep with all those beautiful, sophisticated ladies like…like Sansa and Margaery Lannister…I…well…I still feel like little Arya horseface with her dress on back to front."

Gendry rolled his eyes. Why was Arya even mentioning Margaery Lannister? Why in seven hells did Arya think that scheming bitch Margaery could ever hold a candle to her?

"You must trust me when I tell you that you are the most beautiful…" he kissed her forehead, "…the most enticing…" he kissed her nose, "…the most mysterious…" he kissed her chin, "…woman I have ever met."

Taking her full bottom lip between his teeth, he tugged lightly on it. Her involuntary sigh, told him she was beginning to relax.

"Tell me you trust me," he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

"I do," she said breathlessly, titling her head to give him easier access to her neck.

Gendry intended to do his best this night to prove to her how wonderful she was and how perfect they were together. He reached for the laces of her britches and began to untie them in the dark, under the furs, with practiced ease.

She pressed her hips forward, urging him to hurry.

"There is something else…"

He made a low sound in his throat as his fingers found the smooth, skin of her stomach and grazed the soft curls at the top of her legs. Why should they care now what had happened in The Red Keep? Matters were settled between them and besides, 'twas hard to concentrate on what she was saying when his cock was so eager to concentrate on other parts of her.

She pushed his shoulders back so he had to cease kissing her neck. He groaned in frustration.

"There was other reason I left the Red Keep to follow you," she said in a strained voice, "….Aegon."

What?! Bloody Aegon?! He knew it. This day was destined to be ruined.

Blood pounded in his ears as he asked, "What…about…Aegon?" through gritted teeth.

"I had to get away from him afore I murdered him."

'Twas a good job Aegon was still half a day's ride away – or was it? If Gendry was going to have to kill the Targaryen himself, he would prefer to get it over with sooner rather than later.

"What…did…he…do…to….you?" Gendry asked, anger building in him like a kettle, ready to boil over.

"The night you were leaving, he tried to kiss me and…said he wanted to wed me himself."

'Twas not as bad as Gendry feared, for he had no doubt Arya was well equipped to resist Aegon's advances. But the bloody horse's arse knew how Gendry felt about her. Although they would never be friends, Gendry had not thought the Targaryen would stoop so low as to pursue Arya the moment his back was turned.

He was outraged that Aegon would try to take from him what was his. The thought of Aegon touching her filled him with a jealous rage and he felt as if his blood was boiling in his veins.

.

"Wait until I see that fucking cu…" Gendry began,

Arya grabbed his face with both her hands and pulled his head to hers, crushing her mouth against his, swallowing his words, intent on swallowing his anger. He quivered with rage, but as she kissed him greedily, his balled fists uncurled and he grabbed for her arse, pulling her tight to him, grinding his hips into hers.

When Arya finally let him go, his red hot rage had been replaced by an icy cold determination to leave Aegon in no doubt as to what would happen to him and his balls if he came near Arya again.

"I'll be damned before any other man shall touch you again, King or not," he growled from deep in his chest.

She was his and he would make her and Aegon and everyone else in the fucking Red Keep know it. He had never wanted to take her and claim her with such a deep and primal need.

"I want you and only you," she breathed against his neck, driving him wild with wanting as her hands sought the laces of his britches.

As she made short work of his laces, he lifted her bottom up so he could drag her britches off and throw them out of their furs. Grabbing two handfuls of the material, he ripped her shirt apart, exposing her shoulders and breasts to the chill night air. Her teats were hard and dark against the creamy softness of her breasts. He took first one teat and then the other in his mouth. The high pitched pleading sounds she made as he sucked and nipped at them with his teeth sent new surges of desire pulsing through him.

Looming over her, he seized her hips with both hands and pulled her up towards him. Her surprised little gasp sent heat pumping to his cock. Growling her name as he exhaled, he drove into her. She was so wet and so ready for him. She was his and only his and he needed to make her come, to claim her in a way that he never would.

"You are mine. Say it Arya. Say it."

"I…am…yours" she panted with every stroke and then "Yes, yes, yes" as he pumped into her over and over, faster and harder. Never before had he taken her with such violent, animal abandon. 'Twas all she could do to hold on; her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels digging into his thighs and fingers digging into the straining muscles of his back as his body slammed against hers in a delirious frenzy. His jealousy and his hunger for her thrilled her in a deep and primal way.

Somehow he still had the presence of mind to know that their cries, even of ecstasy, would bring men running. He was close and so was she. Covering her mouth with his hand he bit her shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to smother his wild cry of pleasure as he arched above her, erupting suddenly, filling her with his seed as she shuddered under him and around him. His release crashed over him in wave after heart stopping wave. 'Twas so intense that he thought he might die with the pleasure of it.

Spent and trembling, he collapsed on top of her, trying to get his breathing under control, feeling her heart slamming against his. They lay like that for a while, with him still inside her, not wanting anything to come between them, until he felt he had to roll off for fear of crushing her.

"I am sorry. I was too rough and rushed," he said in a ragged voice as he lay, panting beside her.

"I liked it. 'Twas… exciting," she whispered breathlessly.

He chuckled and pulled her towards him, tucking her close beside him. "By the Gods, you are the only woman for me."

"I had better be," she teased, wriggling closer to him, knowing that even skin to skin was not enough and 'twould never be enough until he was buried deep inside her again.

"We can sleep on the morrow, after we are wed, for I do not intend for us to sleep much tonight," he said, running his hand through her hair.

Tomorrow they would return to The Red Keep and they would be wed.

Arya shivered. She dismissed it as the effect of their sweat cooling rapidly in the chill night air and pulled the furs up around her shoulders.

-o-

Arya did not know if 'twas the animal way they had joined or her fear of being caged again in The Red Keep, but that night she dreamed that she was Nymeria once more.

She had not had such a dream since she and Gendry had become lovers. Although the rational, human part of her brain knew she was asleep somewhere, tonight everything was so vivid, she almost believed this was the real world; all scents and shadows, hunger and the chase.

There was no need to see him in her dream, to know instinctively that he was there. In wolf form he needed no name; not Ghost, not Jon, not Gendry, just the one who always knew what she was thinking, what she needed, what she was.

Hunting and feeding they had done countless times before, yet something had changed. They both knew it and felt it, something a wolf had no name for save pack; primal, irrational, all encompassing. 'Twas everything already and yet held the promise of more to come.

Feeding, tearing, ripping, she bolted down chunks of their fresh kill while he stood silently by. He watched her eat her fill before finally taking his as she rolled onto her flank, full, sated and ready to sleep.

The heavy feeling in her belly, replete with meat and sex was familiar, but this time 'twas something new, something subtle yet undeniable, something she had never experienced before; the miracle ghost flicker of new life in her womb.

-o-

Arya woke up with the taste of venison in her mouth and a hunger for more. Unsure of which memories were hers and which were Nymeria's, she shifted and stretched. Gendry's hand remained resting protectively on her flat stomach.

Was any of it real or had she imagined it all?

She still did not know when she sent Anguy and his archers out to kill a dozen deer for their wedding feast that night.

-o-

Shireen had not expected any of this. As they drew closer to King's Landing, she saw that the dark circle around the city walls was not scorched earth as she had assumed, but rather an army of men, tents and horses spread out for what seemed like miles before the walls of King's Landing.

How many men? How many horses? Her sharp, castle warden's mind was already calculating the amount of food, hay and water required to maintain such a force. She gave an involuntary gasp as she came up with a huge figure. Who could maintain such a force and why were they here?

She turned around, looking back into the wheelhouse, wanting to ask Ty. He had come from King's Landing and as Lord Baratheon's squire, he must know. But Ty was asleep on the pallet on the floor of the wheelhouse; or at least he was pretending to be asleep. The road was so rutted here, worn down by thousands of hooves and wagon wheels, that the wheelhouse was bouncing around more than ever. Shireen could not see how Ty could possibly sleep through it, but then she did not know if he had slept at all the night before. He had not spoken to her, nor even looked at her since their kiss last night.

Shireen was no clearer about what she wanted this morn than she had been last night. She wished Davos was here; for he had been her adviser and her support all of her life. But she already knew what dear Davos would say – that a bastard squire was not good enough for the daughter of a King. Mayhaps she did not want Davos here after all.

Oh, she did not know what she wanted.

Shireen dragged her eyes away from Ty and back to the army surrounding her. 'Twas as if all their attention was focused on her. She was acutely aware of men standing watching her with hungry eyes as the wheelhouse trundled slowly passed. She wished Ty was beside her, for she felt safer with him than with any man save Davos, but she would not slink off and hide herself in the wheelhouse. She was a Baratheon and would not let herself be intimidated by a hoard of unwashed soldiers.

Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to stare straight ahead. She knew no man would dare touch her while she travelled under Lord Baratheon's protection, but she was beginning to realise that life in The Red Keep might not be as safe and predictable as life in Storm's End. At least Arya and Ty had taught her how to defend herself, she thought with a weak smile.

By the time the wheelhouse arrived in the bailey yard, Arya and Gendry were already dismounted and talking with the other lords and ladies.

Nervous butterflies fluttered around Shireen's stomach as she considered the scene before her; the Great Lords of Westeros stood to one side, the beautiful, high born Ladies to the other. All were laughing and talking, the men clasping each others shoulders in welcome, while the women were huddled deep in conversation.

Gendry was a head taller than all the other men, save one. Shireen realised with shock that the next tallest in that group was a woman! Blonde and freckled, with coarse features and a fierce, determined look about her, the woman looked more like a farm hand than a Lady or a Knight. But when she smiled as Gendry greeted her, 'twas as if her face was lit up by the sun. Neither Ty nor Arya had ever mentioned this giant of a woman, scandalously dressed in armour, but Shireen knew there was only one person this could be; Brienne of Tarth.

Shireen had grown up hearing the tale of The Maid of Tarth. Accused of killing her uncle Renly, The Maid had secretly been in love with him and had eventually killed the Red Woman to avenge her love. Shireen had thought the whole story achingly romantic, but this was not how she had imagined Renly's Brienne the Blue would look. Shireen sighed. Why was real life never like the stories?

She thought about Ty and his book about Knights. If life was like such tales, Ty's father would be a Great Lord and not some Flea Bottom bastard and Shireen herself would be a princess, untouched by greyscale, death and deceit. Ty would win a great tourney and crown her his Queen of Love and Beauty. As if that could ever happen, she thought with a derisory and most unladylike snort.

Shireen was a practical girl and would not let herself ponder such silly notions; at least not for long. All anyone could do was make the most of the hand they had been dealt by The Gods and Shireen knew hers was far better than most. She sat up straighter. Whatever happened in King's Landing she was determined to make the best of it – as she always did.

Amongst the group of men, two were instantly recognisable. Jon she had met before; at The Wall. Despite the years that had past, she could still recognise him, for he was the male image of Arya, tall and dark and serious.

The man standing shoulder to shoulder with King Jon was as tall and as powerfully built, but as fair as Jon was dark and more… elegant. His clothes were of beautifully tailored green and purple silk, in complete contrast to the functional boiled leather the other men wore.

Only one family had hair of spun silver and such exquisite, noble features. Shireen had no doubt she was looking at King Aegon Targaryen. He was trading words with Lord Baratheon and, even from this distance, Shireen could tell that the words spoken were angry ones. Then, to her surprise, King Aegon threw his head back and laughed which made Gendry scowl even more furiously. Ours is the fury. Lord Baratheon certainly seemed to be experiencing their family words today.

Gendry had described Aegon as a 'horse's arse'. If he was, then Shireen thought he had to be the most striking, magnificent, horse's arse she had ever seen, but she also sensed he was dangerous and unpredictable. Shireen had every intention of heeding her cousin's warning to steer well clear of King Aegon Targaryen.

Shireen turned her attention to the ladies and immediately her eye was caught by Queen Daenerys. Her hair was as striking as her nephew's and, with her petite frame and voluptuous curves, Shireen might have her thought The Dragon Queen quite the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, if 'twas not for the statuesque lady standing beside her. With intricately braided auburn hair, a demure expression and a figure that would make grown men weep, she could only be Lady Sansa Stark.

Arya cut such a contrasting figure; clad in britches, sword at her hip, hair shorn. There were other ladies in the group, but they all faded into the background compared to these three striking and so very different women, all three of whom were surely destined to play a part in Shireen's immediate future.

-o-

"Oh Sansa!" Arya cried as he flung herself onto her sister.

Sansa's eyes flew open in surprise as she returned Arya's bear hug with a more gentile hug of her own. While there was no doubting her sister's joy, such a display of affection was previously unheard of from Arya and Sansa was unsure quite what to make of this new, demonstrative Arya.

Sansa caught Daenerys' eye over Arya's shoulder as the sisters embraced. Daenerys shrugged and smiled, as surprised by this new turn of events as Sansa.

"Let me see you," Sansa said, stepping back and holding Arya at arm's length. "You look happy and…different."

"I am," Arya grinned, "I mean…I am happy."

"So you reached an arrangement with Lord Baratheon?" Sansa asked tentatively.

Arya giggled, leaving the two ladies dumfounded. Daenerys had never heard Arya make such a carefree, joyous sound before and if Sansa had, then 'twas so long ago she could not remember it.

"Yes, we reached an 'arrangement'," Arya said happily, "We are betrothed and I have agreed to wed him this very day!"

"Oh, not today! You cannot do it today!" Sansa wailed, taking one of Arya's hands in hers.

Arya frowned. "I can do anything I want and if I want to marry Gendry today, then I shall!"

Daenerys reached for and caught Arya's other hand. "Listen to your sister afore you make your decision," Daenerys implored.

"'Twould only be for a short while," Sansa pleaded.

Arya shook her head. However, she was not feeling quite so certain about her decision now. Her sister and the Queen were up to something.

"I will not have a spectacle before the whole of King's Landing if that is what you think to arrange. Gendry and I have already agreed to marry in the Godswood and 'twill be today. I have given my word." Arya said, raising her chin in the air and intending that to be the end of it.

Sansa dropped Arya's hand and with a resigned sigh said, "We meant to keep it a surprise, for you, but as usual you have spoiled it."

"Sansa!" Daenerys said sharply.

"'Tis true." Sansa pouted, "She always ruined all of my surprises."

"I did not!" Arya hissed, "And even if I did, 'twas only because they were stupid surprises in the first place!"

"Sisters!" Daenerys said in dismay, "'Tis a happy occasion we all wish to celebrate and there is no need to argue."

"She started it!" Arya declared, "She always thought she could tell me what to do and now she thinks to dictate to me when I can wed!"

"Stop this! Both of you!" Daenerys snapped, aware that their conversation now had the rapt attention of all the ladies around them. She continued in a harsh whisper, "You are not little girls now. Please act like the ladies and representatives of House Stark that you are!"

"Hmmmph," Sansa said, folding her arms across her chest.

"I'm no lady," Arya muttered under her breath.

Daenerys took a deep breath, finding it hard to refrain from reaching up and knocking both of their heads together. There was nothing else for it; they would have to tell Arya why they wished her to delay her wedding.

"Jon has sent ravens to Winterfell. Bran travels south as we speak to attend the wedding."

"Oh!" Arya said, pulling a guilty face.

"See!" Sansa said smugly.

Arya stuck her tongue out at her sister.

Daenerys took another, deeper breath, "'Tis obviously a decision for you and Lord Baratheon to make Arya. We shall all respect that decision; whatever it is."

Sansa opened her mouth to object, but shut it again as The Queen gave her a hard stare.

"When did Jon send the ravens?" Arya asked, looking at Ghost, standing patiently by Jon's side, her brother's fingers absentmindedly stroking the Direwolf's pelt.

Arya rubbed the scar on her hand left by Ghost's bite outside the walls of Storm's End. She understood how Jon knew, but she wanted to know when he knew.

"You and Ty arrived at Storm's End first," Daenerys recalled. Arya nodded.

"A few days later, we received another raven confirming Lord Baratheon had arrived. I believe 'twas the day after that when Jon sent the raven to Winterfell."

Arya groaned and rolled her eyes. She and Gendry had made love for the first time the night he had arrived, after she told him they were betrothed. Jon must have known almost immediately.

'Twas just as Gendry said – there were no secrets in a castle, even from Direwolves. Mayhaps especially from bloody Direwolves, Arya thought, glaring at Nymeria who was contentedly rubbing herself off Gendry's hip. Most disconcertingly, Nymeria turned around at that very moment and fixed Arya with knowing golden eyes. Arya gave a groan from the back of her throat that came out as a growl.

Damn, but she needed to speak to Jon about all of this, but that would need to wait, for there were more immediate matters to attend to. The wheelhouse had arrived and was squealing to a halt beside them.

As the wheelhouse trundled to a stop, Shireen was shocked to find every curious face turned towards her. She immediately dropped her head and hid behind her hair, but not before she had seen Arya running towards the wheelhouse, extending her arms intent on helping Shireen down from the high seat.

Shireen was not sure this was appropriate; 'twas certainly not ladylike for either of them. With a sigh and a final look back at Ty, who was still pretending to be asleep, she took Arya's hands and allowed herself to be lifted down from the wheelhouse seat. Arya did it with a flourish and even gave her a little twirl before setting her down on her feet.

Shireen wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Through her hair she could see the disapproving glances of the other ladies. The Queen and Lady Sansa were laughing. Shireen hoped 'twas at Arya and not at her.

Arya dragged her by the hand towards the assembled Great and Good of Westeros.

"Come meet my friend and my kind-of-good-sister-to-be, Lady Shireen Baratheon!" Arya announced to the crowd.

Shireen was so nervous, 'twas all she could do to stare at the hem of her skirts. Almost instantly, two of the most exquisitely embroidered gowns she had ever seen appeared beside her feet.

"I'd like you to meet Dany and Sansa," Arya said excitedly.

Shireen used her lowest, longest curtsey to avoid meeting the gaze of The Queen and the famous Lady Sansa.

One of these Great Ladies seemed to know what she was up to, for she said gently,

"Please do not be shy Lady Shireen. We do not bite."

"Indeed we do not," said the other voice playfully, "We have Arya for that!"

Arya cursed under her breath while the other two voices chuckled softly. Shireen thought the sound of their laughter was as musical and bewitching as the mermaids Patchface used to sing about.

Shireen peeked up from under her hair to see the two greatest and most beautiful ladies of Westeros smiling back at her.

"'Tis…'tis an honour," she managed to stutter.

"The pleasure is all ours," Queen Daenerys smiled and Shireen found herself smiling shyly back until Lord Baratheon appeared out of nowhere and placed his heavy hand on her shoulder.

"I see you have been introduced to my cousin Lady Shireen. Can you find her a good husband?"

Arya thwacked Gendry's bicep, which only resulted in a grunted, "What?" from that Lord.

Shireen was mortified, but The Queen looked delighted, clapping her hands together in her excitement.

"Another wedding! How wonderful."

Something seemed amiss with Arya, for she scowled and pulled Gendry off to one side, whispering in his ear. Shireen had no time to dwell on that, as The Queen and Lady Sansa each linked an arm through hers and, chattering excitedly, led her towards the imposing entrance of The Red Keep.

Shireen had time for one last, brief look over her shoulder before she was bustled into the castle. For as long as she lived, she would never forget what she saw; Ty's golden head resting against a window post, his expression heartbreakingly sad, as the wheelhouse trundled away.

Gendry's day was getting worse. His brief conversation with Aegon had nearly resulted in a treasonous fight with the King. 'Twas only Jon's intervention and an agreement to settle their disagreement later that prevented a duel on the spot. And now Arya said they needed to talk.

He clenched his hands into fists and waited. Arya had only just pulled him aside when Brienne had approached. Another one who 'needed to talk'.

What the fuck was it about The Red Keep that everyone always needed to be whispering and plotting and planning while no one actually did anything? The urge to whistle for Thunder, grab Arya and ride like the wind back to Storm's End was growing stronger with every passing moment.

"Not now Brienne," Arya was saying, looking first at Brienne and then pleadingly at him. But he had no intention of interfering. He vaguely recalled Brienne telling him she had sworn to complete some task for Arya. Brienne lived for such tasks and he had been far to preoccupied with wooing Arya at the time to enquire about this latest one. He was not of a mind to ask now either.

Arya gave him another pleading look. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. If Arya thought he was going to get involved in this, then she was mistaken. Arya was his betrothed of course, but Brienne was one of his oldest and best friends. He would not be taking sides here.

"But I need to speak to you. Now." Brienne was demanding of Arya.

"And I need to speak to Lord Baratheon," Arya replied grabbing hold of his sword belt, ensuring he could not remove himself from their discussion.

"'Tis important," Brienne said, giving Arya an intense look.

"And so is what I need to speak to him about," Arya shot back.

Gendry's patience was wearing thin. "Can you not speak of it in front of me and get it Goddamn over with?"

"No!" they both said together, both glaring at him.

He threw his arms up in surrender.

"One of you has to yield, for I have better things to do than stand here and listen to your bickering," he said badtemperdly.

Brienne yielded first. Bowing to him she said pointedly to Arya,

"We must speak soon."

Arya nodded but turned quickly away. Brienne glowered, spun on her heel and left.

"Are you going to tell me what in seven hells all that was about?" he asked Arya as he watched Brienne's stiff back disappear into the crowd.

"Someday, but I have a more urgent matter to discuss. We need to delay our wedding."

Snapping his gaze from Brienne to Arya he wondered if he had heard her correctly. After every promise she had made him, was she really asking to delay their wedding? Blood pounded in his ears. By The Gods, he wished with all his heart that they had never come back here.

"But you gave me your word Arya. I have waited seven years for this and we will be wed today." He gritted out through clenched teeth.

"I know," she whispered hoarsely, clutching at the front of his boiled leather jerkin in a way she had never done afore. "But Bran is on the way from Winterfell and I would love so much for him to attend our wedding."

She looked up at him with those big, grey eyes, shining with unshed tears and he knew he could not deny her this.

"I have not seen Bran since I left for King's Landing with your father all those years ago," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

'Twas so long ago. She had not seen her brother since afore he had even met her.

Gendry scrubbed his hands over his face and grimaced. He still found it hard to understand why The Gods had seen fit to allow her to meet his father while he had not. His father had borne no love for any of his children and Gendry was not fool enough to think 'twould have been any different with him. But all the same, he had a detached curiosity about Robert Baratheon; about his father's life long friendship with Ned Stark that mirrored his own with Jon, about whether their hammer wielding hands were truly the same and he would have liked to observe, and mayhaps learn from, his father's decline from King to drunken sot.

But 'twas never meant to be. Arya had met King Robert and Gendry had not. The Gods had intertwined all of their fates and he wanted to believe that this delay was just another part of The God's plan for them, another obstacle to be overcome on their path together.

Blowing out a long sigh, Gendry pulled Arya into his arms and rested his cheek against her head. He stroked his hands over her shoulders and down her back, before wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight to him. No doubt this was considered scandalous behaviour for The Red Keep, but he cared nothing for what any of the twittering little birds here thought.

"Then we shall wait," he said with a heavy heart.

Arya hugged him tightly and whispered her thanks.

Mayhaps 'twas just the oppressive atmosphere of The Red Keep, but he had a growing feeling of unease. He tried to smile but found he could not. Instead he closed his eyes and thought on their time together in Storm's End. He prayed that would be enough to sustain them. She was his and all would be well.

He wished he believed it.

I did post an update on my profile page on Friday (as promised) and intend to do that every Friday if I don't manage to post as some people seem to appreciate it. Again, as it's already Sunday, a post next Friday is unlikely – only four full days and a work filled week away. But you know you will get it asap.

I had to go back and read a few chapters this week to remind myself what happened in The Red Keep and you know what? I couldn't stop reading! It's been such a long time (Christmas) that I could hardly remember any of it and I actually thought – Wow, this is good! Hahahaha. How vain is that? But if I'm writing something I like and enjoying writing it, I like to think it comes across and makes for a better story.

Reading it again also reminded me of all the fun I've had with Brazilian Guy along the way. Thank you again Ser, for everything.

See you soon…