Author's Notes: Arya, Gendry and Nymeria, a happy pack - or are they? Will they a chance to catch up with the Starks as well as with the Lannisters?
The next chapter is from Lady Catelyn's POV and tells what's happening in that seething hotbed of intrigue, at the inn...
Thank you Hardlyfatal for betaing!
Arya
Although Arya missed some aspects of travelling with the convoy – the company, the friendships she had formed, the freedom from responsibilities to make daily decisions of their journey – travelling with Nymeria and Gendry had its advantages, too.
That Gendry had agreed to join them had been a huge relief – in fact, she didn't know how she would have coped without him. But he had come, and on his own accord. He had simply picked up his bag from the ground and followed her and Nymeria out of the village square to the woods, not saying a word or demanding to know what their plans were. He had just come.
Their journey was good - mostly. One thing Arya missed was the food: freshly baked bread from the griddle, the sausages dripping of fat, hot soups brimming with meat and grain and vegetables … They still had their traps and could keep up the supply of small game, complemented with onions, potatoes and bread Arya had grabbed from the kitchens. After they ran out of them, they could still rely on opportunities to buy some from the fellow travellers or from small homesteads they passed, with the coin Gendry had earned, so they were not exactly starving.
They still kept to the Kingsroad, as Arya didn't know how to steer their way through the woods and Gendry was even more clueless, having never been outside Kings Landing. Only for the nights, they ducked deeper into the forest to set a camp, and that's where Nymeria met them, having set her own pace during the day, mostly out of sight.
And that's when the biggest problem of their arrangement was manifested.
As Arya had assured Gendry, Nymeria didn't try to attack him and seemed to accept his company – but just. The tension between the two was unmistakable, both circling each other warily and Gendry refusing to be left alone with the direwolf even for a moment. Once when Arya and Gendry had argued about the plans for the next day's journey with raised voices, Nymeria had stepped between them and growled at Gendry, the fur at her back rising and her scary fangs gleaming ominously in the firelight.
Gendry had stopped talking, Arya had soothed Nymeria, and the situation had passed, but it had told Arya that something needed to be done. She couldn't always be there, and should Gendry and Nymeria become at odds when she was not – the notion didn't bear thinking. So, one evening after the meal, she decided it was time for her to act.
"Gendry," she called across the fire. Gendry had finished his plate and was collecting their few utensils to be put away. Nymeria was lying by Arya's side, as she was often wont, her presence warm and safe against Arya's flank.
"Uh?" Gendry raised his head.
"I think it is time we settle the matters between you and Nymeria. She needs to know that you are part of our pack and that you are not a threat."
Gendry glanced at the giant wolf, frowning. "How do you suggest doing it? I haven't gone near her or harassed her in any way, and still she looks at me like she would rather eat me than accept my presence."
"Maybe that's the problem. You have to let her get to know you." Arya pointed at him. "Get your clothes off."
Gendry's jaw dropped. "What?"
"At least get your tunic off and let her smell you. If she doesn't get a full sense of you, you'll always be an outsider. And you have to do it willingly, let her come near you without fear."
Arya wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but she remembered Farlen, the Winterfell kennel master, explaining to her how a new dog had to be introduced to the pack. He had also said that there always had to be a clear pecking order or otherwise the dogs wasted their time fighting with each other rather than following orders. She wished she would have paid more attention to the details and wondered if it worked the same way with direwolves. Nonetheless, at least she could try.
Gendry looked like he wanted to protest, but seemingly thinking better of it, settled for pulling his tunic off and muttering something about crazy Northern ways.
Arya poked at Nymeria, who raised her head, and after another push towards Gendry, seemed to understand her meaning and got lazily up to her feet. She stretched, yawned, and sauntered to Gendry, who was waiting with his tunic still in his hands.
"Throw it away and lift your arms. Maybe get on your knees," Arya instructed. Her gaze lingered on Gendry's torso as he settled down. It was so different from hers: a broad back, rounded muscles in his arms making their way from his shoulders to his wrists, his chest flat but with clear lines defining it, curving from the top of his collarbones and from under his arms. His hands were large and fingers short and stout, dirt under his fingernails. When Gendry raised his arms as instructed, Arya could see the straight, dark hair of his armpits, and for some reason, the sight felt almost too raw, too intimate. She forced herself to look at his face instead.
Nymeria's snout hovered next to Gendry's cheek and he stood still as stone, only a nervous tick of his mouth revealing his uneasiness. The direwolf took her time, sniffing him all over: his neck, his chest, his arms. Arya closed her eyes and for a fleeting moment, she smelled Gendry too, more strongly than ever. She was used to his scent, of course, having slept so many nights close to him, but this was something different; deeper, more intense.
Her eyes shot open.
Nymeria, apparently satisfied with her examination, sat back on her haunches and was looking at Gendry with her head tilted.
"I think that is enough," Arya said, her mouth suddenly dry. "Now can you lie down on your back?"
Gendry shot her a look of exasperation but did as he was told, unfolding his discarded tunic on the ground and settling on top of it. When done, he folded his arms above his head.
"What then? Am I the meal being set for her now - is she going to eat me next?" he grumbled.
"No. It is my turn now." Arya scooted closer on her knees. "Reveal your throat to me. Just lift your head up."
"Why?"
"So she can see that you are submitting to me. The dogs – and I suppose wolves too, being close kin to them – expose their throat to the leader of the pack so it knows they are no threat to them. I am the leader of this pack, so if you do it to me, Nymeria sees that you know your place."
"You? Since when have you been the leader?" Gendry spat, jerking his head back.
"Well, at least in this pack of ours. I fed and protected Nymeria since she was a pup, and she seems to still submit to me. And if not me, who? For you to take that role, you would have to fight her," Arya explained patiently.
Gendry's eyes narrowed. "Fight?"
"That's the only way the pack submits to the new leader. If you think it's not me, it must be her then – because as sure as hells it isn't you, at least as far as she is concerned." Arya jerked her head towards Nymeria, who was following the proceedings with interest.
"Very well then, you'll be the leader," Gendry muttered and lifted his chin, baring his strong neck to Arya.
She stared at it, the thick cords on both sides and the prominent apple of his throat, which moved as he swallowed. She wasn't sure what to do next. Was this enough? She glanced at Nymeria, who gave no clues as to what she expected of her.
Gingerly, she bent down. She placed one hand on Gendry's bare chest for balance, and already sitting on her knees, it was only a small distance and she had her face hovering over Gendry's unprotected neck.
She opened her mouth and bit him.
Not hard, just a nibble. Arya's hand felt the warmth of his flesh and the steady thumping of his heart under her fingers, and the scent of him lingered still in her nose. Gendry gasped but didn't move.
She tasted salt on his skin and felt the short stubble of his beard under her tongue. She bit her teeth together, with a small fold of Gendry's skin between them. Gendry jerked but didn't push her away.
After a fleeting moment that seemed longer than it probably was, Arya released her hold and raised her head. "I think that's enough." She got up to her feet and turned away, but not before registering Gendry's wide eyes as he stared at her.
Since that evening, the tension between Gendry and Nymeria was gone. Nymeria even settled down next to Gendry on some nights, and he didn't mind, and the three of them snoozed through the nights filled with sounds of the forest and gentle breezes through the trees.
They didn't talk about it afterwards, except one time, a few days later, when Gendry had been behaving especially moodily and Arya finally asked him what was his problem.
"Nothing. Why would I have any problems? You are our leader and you'll take care of everything," he declared.
"Only with Nymeria, you stupid bull. Just in our wolf pack," Arya huffed. It was not fair for Gendry to take umbrage of such a minor matter. He was older, bigger and stronger – surely he could see that it was he who was actually leading them?
"Are you not a noble, a castle-born? Shall I not be calling you my lady when we get to Winterfell – if I even see you there anymore?" Gendry cocked his head while waiting for Arya's answer.
Except she had none to give.
"It won't be like that," Arya started, but then stopped. It would be like that. She would be scooped inside the family chambers to learn about sewing and singing and all the other stupid things young maids were supposed to learn, while Gendry would spend his time in the smithy, working alongside Mikken, if things went her way.
"You'll get to eat in the big hall and we would still see each other. Sometime you might even be sitting next to my father in the high table; he likes to get to know people who serve under him," she tried to soften the reality.
"Who serve under him, and his family? Don't worry, Arya, I know my place." Gendry got up, scratched Nymeria behind the ear and walked away. Nymeria followed him and Arya stared after them, exasperated.
Why does life have to be so complicated?
No more talk about leadership issues ensued, and for a while, things were good. They were making fair progress, had enough food, and encountered no threats from men nor beast.
Arya still ran with Nymeria on some nights, but more often than not, their presence in each other's daily life was enough. On some of those occasions, however, she saw things. Men riding in groups, banners of lions and stags flying in front of them. Abandoned houses, trampled fields, burned crops. A few times she caught a scent of something familiar, something the direwolf couldn't articulate and the girl couldn't recreate in the morning, but something that gave her a sense of comfort, warmth – home.
That was ridiculous, of course, because they were still so far away from the North, so Arya just shook her head and concentrated on what was there and then.
And then everything changed.
When there was bartering to do, it was mostly Gendry who visited the houses or chatted up the groups of travellers they met. After one such occasion, where he had gone to see what the scattering of huts nearby could offer, he returned to Arya and Nymeria with an ashen face. After some prompting from Arya, whose curiosity had been raised to find out what had so upset him, Gendry told her the news about the herald from the capital who had travelled through the region to read royal proclamations.
About Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Sansa of House Stark.
At first, Arya refused to believe him. No, he must have heard it wrong, it must have been some other lord, some other lady, it must not have been an execution but a banishment… After running out of excuses and seeing Gendry's sad eyes when he shook his head, something broke inside Arya, and she collapsed into a heap, tears breaking through. None of those graceful silent tears streaking down her cheeks, but an all-out ugly bawl with wailing and blubbering and fists banging the ground, the trunk of a nearby tree, and Gendry's chest when he engulfed her in his arms and held her steady, ignoring her protestations and cries.
The first night was the worst. Afterwards Arya couldn't remember how she had gotten through it, or the day that followed. All she remembered was being woken up, handed some food that after she had first refused, Gendry had compelled her to eat, and which she had then chewed without tasting, bleary-eyed and hollow. She remembered being marshalled forward, sometimes steered by her shoulder, and sometimes dragged by the hand.
Gendry was always there, silent but present, taking care of everything and making sure that Arya was looked after even when she didn't care about her own state. Nymeria never left her side, even when they were walking on the road unless Gendry saw people coming and drove her away. As soon as the people were gone, she slinked to walk with her once more, her warm snout touching Arya's hand every now and then, as if checking on her.
After a few days clouded in fog, the haze of misery started to lift off and Arya looked around, saw that they were still going ahead, and she started to ask questions in her mind about what they should go. And she concluded that she wanted her mother. Lady Catelyn was the only one who could comfort her now.
She brought it up that evening, suggesting that instead of Winterfell they would head to Riverrun instead. Random pieces of gossip Gendry had picked up on the way suggested that the Young Wolf's headquarters were still there, and that's where she would find Lady Catelyn.
Instead of resisting her plan as Arya had thought, Gendry agreed to it with no fuss. They discussed how to best execute it and agreed that following the roads was still going to be the safest option. Arya remembered her geography, and how on their way to the South someone had said that the River Road and Kingsroad intersection was right by the inn at the crossroads. The place where the Lannisters had first shown their true colours.
Gradually, Arya got dragged back from the edge of despair, and with a new goal invigorating her and giving her life a purpose, she and Gendry continued their journey.
She thought a lot about her father, and how he must have felt in his last moments. Alone, betrayed and punished by the crown he had so reluctantly agreed to serve, but in which he had nonetheless so firmly believed in. Had they told her about Sansa and the Hound to burden his load even more before they had killed him? Arya didn't put that above Joffrey – she had hated that snivelling coward ever since first seeing him in Winterfell, all haughty and arrogant.
And Sansa… Why had the Hound taken her in the first place? He was a horrible man who had killed the only friend Arya had had on their journey, and worse: he had japed about it. Arya had noticed the way he had sometimes looked at Sansa, and that sobered her, and a new gnawing worry started to eat her innards. So far she had been so despairing by the news of her father that she had paid less attention to Sansa's fate, but now…
Her new ritual, reiterated every night when she lay herself down, was to repeat the names of those who had wronged her. Joffrey, Cersei, the Hound. She added Varys too, just in case, as he had had some evil plans for Gendry. She didn't tell Gendry but held her hate close to her chest, where it festered and grew.
It took them another week before Arya saw the familiar sight of the inn with white turrets and chimneys. As they got closer, they saw tents clustered on two sides of it, telling a tale of many guests. Too many, Arya thought and said so to Gendry.
"They have fresh food, and maybe news. We should go and at least have a look – or I could go." Gendry implored.
"We don't know who is there. Look at all those tents, it is not a couple of farmers on their way to the markets," Arya argued back. She didn't like the look of it. She – Nymeria – had seen too many soldiers in these parts recently to be at ease.
"Even so, what would they care about one traveller? I can sneak in and out with nobody noticing. I could fill our bags with food, ask a few questions from the servants if they seem talkative, and slip away again. You and Nymeria could wait here."
Arya could see that Gendry was itching to go. She didn't really care one way or another, her sorrow still too overwhelming.
"Fine then. Go and have your look. But be careful. Don't talk to anyone who looks suspicious, or a Lannister soldier, or anyone from the capital. They only have to hear you to know that you are from the wrong side of Visenya's Hill," Arya relented. They could use some fresh food, and maybe there was news to be had, hopefully better this time.
After establishing their camp and ensuring its security, Gendry left, and Arya settled for another nerve-racking evening of waiting. One could never be sure what awaited when meeting other people, and she couldn't deny being worried.
She ate, then fixed a tear in her breeches, in the process sticking her thumb with a needle way too many times, largely because of Nymeria. She had been behaving oddly the previous day and night, pacing restlessly and making funny noises, frequently coming to poke Arya in the thigh. Arya shushed her but she was relentless. In the end, Arya had to get firm with her and ban her from the campsite, which resulted in Nymeria slinking off into the woods.
Eventually Gendry came back, his bags brimming with bread, cheese, onion, carrots and potatoes. He had even bought half a dozen apples, and Arya eagerly bit into one, savouring its taste and crispness.
"So, what did you see?" she asked between the mouthfuls.
"Lots of people. Men, mostly. Soldiers, from the look of them, although some looked like wildlings or savages with their furs and hairy looks," Gendry replied. He didn't look happy.
"That's all?"
"I didn't really get to see or hear much. When I saw a Lannister flag on one the tents on the other side, the ones scattered around like chicken droppings, I knew I had to be careful." Gendry threw the last parcel to the ground.
Lannister. Blood roared in Arya's ears at the mention of that name. Her first instinct was to rage and rush to the inn to exact her revenge – but even before the thought had taken a full form, she knew how futile it would be. Joffrey and Cersei were not there, and neither was the Hound if he had any sense in his thick head.
"Just as well we are not going there," she replied coolly instead.
"I had a quick word with the kitchen maid at the back door of the inn, but besides getting this food from her, she wasn't much help. She didn't know who the men were, as she had been visiting her relatives and since coming back this morning had worked without a break to serve the guests." Gendry sat heavily on the ground next to Arya, who offered him a bite of the apple.
"First thing tomorrow we turn to River Road, skirting past the inn. The sooner we get out of here, the better," Arya said. She had been right in wanting to avoid the inn, then.
Gendry agreed with her, and soon they settled for the night.
That night neither the girl or the direwolf slept well. Nymeria roamed the forest, her path taking her closer and closer to the inn. The tents stank of humans in closed confinements, and the ground all around the inn of human excrement. The direwolf didn't like it, but among the bad smells were ones she had sensed before, familiar ones, and she lifted her snout and breathed in the night air.
Arya whimpered in her sleep.
The morning was cool and crisp, dew-drops glimmering on blades of grass when Arya rolled their bedrolls. Gendry had already collected their other belongings and was waiting for Arya to get ready, tapping his foot and making japes about women and the time it took or them to get ready. There was no sign of Nymeria, but Arya wasn't worried, as she often made her own way and joined them further along the journey.
Indeed, they had hardly set their feet on the path that would see them bypassing the inn and heading directly to the River Road, when Nymeria arrived, running from the direction of the inn.
"Good morning to you, too," Arya greeted her, but instead of only brushing past her and galloping forward, Nymeria ran around her in circles, yelping.
"Nymeria, what are you doing?" Arya stopped and waited for the direwolf to move out of her way, but she only came closer, nudged her with her big head and started back, towards the inn.
"Not there, girl," Gendry shouted. "Wrong direction!"
Nymeria paid no heed but trotted for a while, then stopped and looked over her shoulder, clearly expecting them to join her.
"Not this time, Nymeria. We're not going to the North, we're going to Riverrun," Arya cajoled. "Mother is waiting for us there, so come here."
Nymeria did turn at that, but instead of following, she again did a few of those curious little rounds around Arya, pushing and prodding her before heading once more back towards where they had come from.
"She's behaving oddly today," Gendry remarked as they followed the direwolf's antics.
"She is. I don't recall seeing her this agitated before." Arya wondered whether Nymeria had gotten the scent of the Lannister soldiers and felt the same urge as she had, to attack them. Yet there was no aggression in her behaviour, her tail high in the air and her ears pointing forward.
Still, they had no reason to go back, and as Arya had decided to go to her mother instead of taking the long road to her home, she had no time for Nymeria's antics. Shouting her to follow them one more time, Arya shrugged her shoulders and started to walk. Gendry followed her.
They reached the River Road without incident and watching the wide road stretching in front of her, full of promises of her mother and brother and the security of his father's bannermen, Arya felt as she was finally getting somewhere.