DISCLAIMER: If I owned GOT I wouldn't be writing on a laptop that is functioning purely due to string, tape and prayers. Just in case, GRRM and HBO own all rights.
Yo readers, hope all is chillybeans at your end, wherever that may be! So I haven't got much to say this time, apart from thank you to all of the people who have reviewed or messaged me! Oh and also, if you're a history nerd, like me, Dan Jones (an all round great guy) did an hour long discussion with GRRM about Game of Thrones and its historical context, and about how it is largely based off English history- I haven't seen all of it yet, but it is really good. The full version is on Youtube if you wanna check it out- and if you like Dan Jones there are loads of his documentaries on there in full as well, "Britains Bloodiest Dynasty" and "Britains Bloody Crown". They're AMAZING if you're into them :) Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter- Over and Out xox
RECAP:
Arya rides a dragon, and goes to find Gendry. She watches him training in the yard, and sees Jayce being attacked by a group of other boys. She rushes to his defense, takes it too far, nearly kills the ring leader and Gendry pulls her off just in time. They have a chat, and then Jon lectures her. Gendry suggests that its time they leave for Storms End, and it is agreed that its a good idea. The Baratheon Company make it into the Kingswood, when Arya and Gendry notice a fire near Bronzegate, presumably set by bandits. Arya wants to go and scope it out alone- partly to assess the risk, partly to see if anyone there is linked to the Black Knight- and Gendry has a fit over the idea. He forbids her from joining the battle, and she leaves him alone in the woods.
Arya strode away from Gendry, anger coursing through her veins as she tried to put his words out of her head. She was so tired of it- him and Jon, both always acting like she was a child, telling her one minute about her responsibilities and the next about how she was theirs to command! But, as she made her way through the dark, she supposed that what had hurt her the most was that Gendry was supposed to understand. He had told her over and over that he believed in her, that he saw her as more than just a lady of a castle- yet he had just more or less admitted the opposite. He hadn't said the words, but the sentiment was there, or else why would he forbid her from battle? From spying? From doing anything of any use to anyone?
What does he expect me to do? She thought to herself angrily. Stay with the horses? The camp followers? Humiliation coursed through her body at the very idea of it, and she pushed it away. She had other concerns, and she needed to focus.
If Gendry went and battled the bandits then Arya would not have a chance to see if they were connected to the Black Knight. For a moment she had wanted to shout that in his face, but then he would have asked her why, and... Arya bit her lip.
When he had asked her why she had gone to see the Ghost of High Heart Hill she had told him the truth... or at least, part of the truth. She had not mentioned the prophesy, none of it, and how else could she explain her need to destroy the monster she had fought at Duskendale? Gendry would never believe that she just wanted rid of the bandits, and he would ask her why else she was so desperate to find him.
The tall black mountain of revenge... could that be him? The Black Knight? The dwarf had told her she would never find peace if she didn't kill him... more or less. And how could she explain that to Gendry when she had, not days ago, promised not to put herself at risk against him?
Arya sighed and chewed her lip, tugging it viciously between her teeth. She was stuck; either tell Gendry the truth, and have him refuse to let her out of his sight, or not tell him and lose the only source of intel she might ever have.
As far as Arya could see she had only one choice, and it would involve a great deal of stealth.
By the time Gendry returned to where the company had made camp the moon was high in the sky, and most were settled down for the night underneath their furs. He had lingered behind after Arya left him, cussing her, cussing the bandits and cussing himself. Why couldn't she see that he just wanted her out of harms way? He knew she was exceptional, for the gods sake, but she was so tiny. He knew how dangerous she was but a battle was different, and he didn't want her going anywhere near one. Besides, Jon would personally see him killed if she was hurt.
Jon... he had made Gendry swear to keep her safe. "You know what she's like, Gendry," he had told him before they left. "She'll refuse to see the danger she is in; Greyjoy, Frey, this Black Knight person, and gods know who else- they're all after her. Just keep an eye on her, will you? She's my sister, and I don't care if it makes her hate me but I'll not have her harmed."
But hells- she could be so damn difficult sometimes! Gendry cursed under his breath. How was he supposed to keep her out of danger when she was so damned determined to go looking for it? He knew he shouldn't have tried to forbid her from joining the battle, forbid her anything and it became her hearts desire, nor should he have insinuated she wasn't able to look after herself, but fuck- he'd been so angry!
He pictured the way she had just stared at him and walked off, without a single word or display of emotion. It chilled him; he would have preferred her to hit him, stab him- fuck it, he'd have preferred to see her cry; the way she seemed to have so quickly put up that wall. He thought about how she had been more open with him in Kings Landing, more honest than she had ever been, and knew that he may have done irreversible damage earlier. It frightened him, they way she had so quickly reverted to closing herself off, to distancing herself. He wondered again where she had picked that up, if he'd been there when it started.
Suddenly, Gendry felt a surge of guilt, and groaned at himself under his breath. He was a fool. Arya... it was clear that she didn't see things the same way as anyone else. He forgot, sometimes, that what she had seen, what she had experienced, had changed her so much. He had never met anyone so perceptive as her. So still. She had been so cold at first, like ice, blank of all emotions, but things had changed between them, hadn't they? Two months ago the only reason Arya would have touched him was to punch him. Now... it wasn't even the few kisses they had shared, but the casual ways that she allowed him close to her that warmed him. Leaning against him when sat by the camp fire. Allowing him to put his hand on her shoulder, or give her a leg up onto Astrid, or pass her something. Not just tolerating him stiffly but letting him without thought.
Because she trusted him.
He wondered when the last time she had really, truly trusted someone was. Jon maybe, but after Jon had taken her from the North and everything, perhaps not. Sansa? He rather got the impression that the sisters had never got on as children, but Arya had shown a closeness around Sansa that he hadn't seen in her before. She was happy around Aegon, but he doubted she truly trusted him... but then, Aegon had known her past before anyone else had, even before the queen had realised. Gendry put the thought out of his head. Here he was, not trusting her, again.
He needed to see her. To make her understand... to apologise. But where was she? Gendry paused, and looked around, but it was hard to tell in the dark. She usually camped out of sight, hidden away in the trees instead of among the rest of the company. Just as he was thinking about heading into the woods to try and find her he heard a soft plucking of a woodharp. He followed the sound and found them sat around a dying fire, the gentle notes of Tom's music barely playing over the sound of Lem snoring.
"Everything alright, lad?" Greenbeard asked, looking up from his task of picking mud out of the treads of his boot with a knife. "Looking for that girl of yours?"
Gendry swallowed and nodded. "You seen her?"
Tom nodded idly, and set his harp aside gently. "No more than an hour ago," he said, stretching his fingers. "She looked mighty determined like."
Gendry creased his brow. "Determined?"
Greenbeard snorted. "She went striding past, didn't even stop to ask about the boy. Just grabbed her skins and packs and went off into the trees. Like she was on a mission."
Gendry sat down heavily with a low sigh. "Probably because she didn't want to see me," he said. "I said something- fuck! I nearly forgot." He sat up straight. "Get Lem up, will you?" He asked Tom loudly. "We saw a fire, over Bronzegate way. Looks like a bandit attack."
Greenbeard put down his boot and wiped his knife on his breeches. "A fire?" He asked. "Why would you think it's bandits?"
Gendry explained hurriedly, the three ex brotherhood members listening carefully. When he was finished Lem shook his head.
"I've been needing a good fight," he said. "How long will it be until we get there?"
"A couple of days at least," Greenbeard said, waggling his knife at him. "Unless they've moved on. We might have to chase after them then, but that would be risky."
Lem huffed. "Risky? When better to do it than now, when we have the numbers all together?"
Gendry clucked his tongue. "And if it's a trap? Say we go in and fight them, exhaust the men- and then get ambushed?" It was only as he was saying the words that he realized he'd said exactly what Arya had been suggesting. He cursed, and the three older men looked at him strangely. "That's why I was looking for Arya," he said. "We had a disagreement about how to do things," he explained.
Greenbeard laughed. "I imagine she was all for rushing in and killing the lot of them, right? She's got a thirst for blood, that one."
Gendry ignored the jibe and shook his head. "No, actually, she wanted to wait until we had more information." He hesitated and then sank his head into his hands, running his fingers through his shaggy hair tiredly. "She wanted to be part of the battle, and I refused."
Tom snorted, and picked up his harp again. "I imagine she took that well," he said. "That why she was running away from you earlier?"
Gendry grit his teeth. "I may have attempted to order her not to be at the fight."
The three men around him erupted. "You have a lot to learn, lad," Tom chuckled. "Some women like to be ordered around, but not that one. You've got yourself a wild one there."
"Mind you," Greenbeard said, shrugging, "she wasn't trying to keep out of sight. Maybe she wanted you to follow her."
"And why would she run away from me if she only wanted me to follow her?" Gendry asked dubiously.
Greenbeard smirked. "So that you could catch her and show her whats what," he offered slyly.
Gendry narrowed his eyes. "Careful, that's milady you're talking about."
Lem laughed and settled back down on his furs, wriggling his shoulders until he was comfortable. "Maybe she wanted you to show her what that means."
Gendry picked up one of Greenbeard's boots and threw it at the bearded man, who huffed as it landed heavily on his gut. Gendry smiled for a moment, but it slid off of his face as he thought about the way she had left him in the dark, and he sighed. "I ought to go and speak to her," he began to say, but Tom interjected.
"I would wait until the morning," he advised. "Let her cool off, you know what she's like; she's probably busy throwing knives at a tree and pretending its you. No good in presenting her the real target."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence," Gendry said sarcastically, though he knew Tom probably wasn't far off.
"Tom's right," Greenbeard said, as he lay back on his furs, pulling his cloak over his front. "Wait til the morning to speak to her, and when you do remember to speak to her softly; she's a wolf, remember?"
Gendry sighed, and lay back. "I remember," he said, staring up at the stars.
The already warm morning air lay over Gendry like a blanket when he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the sky; such a dark grey that it was almost black, and he knew straight away that it would be sleeting all day, from dusk until dawn. He could feel it in the air as well, hot and moist and sticky. He never noticed how warm it was unless it was like this, and he wondered if Arya felt like this all the time.
Gendry groaned as he thought of her. Would she still be angry? Stupid thought. Of course she was. As he pulled himself up he noticed that no one else was yet stirring, leaving the camp eerie and quite. For a moment Gendry thought that it looked like some kind of grave yard, with everyone lying on the ground like that. Arya always woke early, she would be easy to find among all of the sleeping bodies.
He made his way towards the treeline, in the direction that Tom had gestured the night before. He tried to think what he would say to her as he searched among the wet spider plants and foliage for a nest of furs, but came up blank. Eventually he found a fire circle, a pit surrounded neatly with stones, and burnt remains in the middle. Gendry felt his brow crease; Arya never lit a fire at night, not for the last month. Why would she have lit one the night before, especially if she didn't want to found? Gendry searched in the vicinity for any sign of her, but there was nothing, and with each yard that contained no clues a knot formed in his stomach. There was no sign that anyone had been there at all, no patch that had been lain on, no footsteps, no disturbances- it looked like she hadn't been there at all, and Gendry began to suspect that that was exactly the case.
Ten minutes later he was shaking Jayce awake by the shoulder. The boy woke quickly, and pushed himself onto one arm. His eye was still somewhat swelled, but the uninjured one looked at him quizzically. "Jayce, where is Astrid?" He asked quickly.
"Lady Arya's mare?" Jayce asked. "With the others, over-" He stopped short when he saw the empty space between two bay horses in the makeshift pen. "Maybe milady went for a morning ride?"
"Aye, either that or she went for a late night ride last night," Gendry said dryly, standing up. "Fuck!" He turned around impatiently, scrubbing his face with his hand. He knew immediately now, it was obvious. Arya was too smart for her own good, and too stubborn by far too. Lighting the fire, making a scene, acting as if she was going to bed... far too smart. "Jayce, start waking people up, we need to be ready to leave as soon as possible."
He didn't wait for the boys reply, but strode off towards the Brotherhood. "Wake up!" He said sharply, nudging them. "Get up- Lem, Tom. Where's Anguy?"
Tom looked at him reproachfully, clearly disgruntled with being woken up to such a sharp tone. "Off with some camp follower most like, why?"
"Arya's gone," Gendry said shortly.
"Arya's missing?" Lem said, standing up heavily.
"No, not missing," Gendry said darkly. "I know exactly where she's gone."
"Steady little mare, shh now," Arya said, pulling up the mare, first to a canter and then a walk. They had been riding hard for the whole night, and most of the morning too now, though it was hard to tell with the sky so dark. It had been raining since dawn, thick, sleeting, freezing rain, which made it difficult to see clearly. Arya had the hood of her cloak drawn right up, but it did little good against the driving rain, and icy water cascaded down her face. She blinked rapidly to keep the water out of her eyes, trying to assess where exactly she was, but it did little good as she didn't know the woods well even in daylight.
She supposed she had ridden for at least five leagues, but she couldn't be sure. They had been about ten leagues in when the company stopped last night, and the road through the Kingswood was around forty leagues... if she was right then she should be coming to the Wendwater soon enough, but with it raining this hard there was a risk that it could be too flooded to wade across. She supposed that was a good thing; she might be able to get through with just Astrid, but there was no way the company all day at least, which would give her more time.
She had left before midnight, and unless the company had woken in the very early hours of the morning then they had likely only set off a few hours ago, putting her a good eight or so hours ahead of them, more seeing as she was travelling so much faster and lighter.
She wondered if Gendry knew yet; she supposed he must, by now at least. It was normal for her to ride away from the company slightly, and while she normally checked in with Gendry once or twice he probably hadn't been expecting her to after their fight. By now someone would have noticed though, she was sure of it, and she was just glad that she was not the one having to deal with Gendry's temper.
She had made up her mind almost as soon as she had left him, and had made sure to give herself as much time as possible. She had grabbed her sleeping things and taken them off into the trees, far enough that no one could see her but near enough to camp that the light of the fire she lit was clearly visible through the dark. Then, when the squires were asleep she had simply taken Astrid, and left.
She wondered who it was that discovered she was missing; Anguy, perhaps, or Greenbeard. Maybe even Gendry himself. The moment she thought of him Arya felt a pang in her stomach; anger, she supposed, but something else too. Guilt? She shook her head. She had no reason to be guilty, it was him who had been an ass last night. She grabbed a strip of salted venison from her pack and worried the tough meat with her teeth, hoping it would settle her stomach. As she chewed she smirked. She would show him; it should be easy enough. If she could get to Bronzegate, or wherever the fire had been she could get an idea of what had happened; if there was no one there then she could ride back and tell Gendry... or she could wait for him there. She would love to see his face when he found her. A moment later Arya frowned; pettiness wasn't the point of this mission.
If there were people there she would observe; if they were bandits she would be able to suss out numbers, strength, positioning. She could even take a captive, if she had the opportunity, and then question him on who they were. If there were any tracks she would scope them out, see where they had been headed... though the pouring rain had likely destroyed any prints there may have been.
For the first time, Arya actually considered how Gendry might react. Badly, she suspected. Asshole, she thought harshly. He didn't think she could do a simple scoping mission. Didn't think she could fight in a battle. She muttered under her breath, her lips pulled down in a frown. She needed to focus, not think about Gendry. She needed to prepare.
She thought over everything she knew about the Black Knight in her mind. Somehow he wasn't entirely human, he was headed northwards... for what? There was a reason that bandits stayed in the south, generally speaking; apart from Dorne, where settlements were spread out across hot, sandy deserts and marches, the south was simply easier to raid. More people, richer land- and therefore richer villages and towns- and more pickings.
Arya shook her head; this whole situation, it didn't add up. Greenbeard had said that the report was that the Black Knight had been seen in the Stormlands, leading the bandits, about a half year ago. But there were bandits- presumably the same as before- still in the Stormlands, while the Black Knight was heading north with a different set of raiders. Olyvar had said they weren't from the pass above Duskendale, so was it possible the Black Knight had split the Stormlands raiders and taken some up north with him? Had Gendry misjudged the numbers? If so, and they had split up, why then would the fire have been made to challenge them?
Arya chewed her lip. There was something very wrong going on here. For the first time, it crossed her mind that perhaps the iron born and Elmar Frey had made some kind of deal with the raiders. After all, Bronzegate wasn't far from the coast line, and iron born ships could easily have been there... but there hadn't been any reports.
Arya shook her head; there was little point in speculating. The House of Black and White had taught her that; wait until you have all of the facts. Scope things out, learn every detail before you make a move. That was what Arya intended to do.
Gendry gaped in dismay at the Wendwater. It wasn't flooded exactly, but it had risen quickly, and it would be near impossible to get the entire company over it in a day, and night was nearing. Arya would be well on the other side by now, whatever her plan was. Gendry clenched his jaw.
"Lord, what do you want to do?" Lem asked, the others stood behind him.
Gendry turned around. "We'll cross," he said firmly, pinning Greenbeard with a glare when he made to interrupt. "I know we can't get the company over in time, but at least some of us can, and then we can try and find Arya before it's too late. I want her stopped before she gets there."
Anguy stepped forwards. "Gendry, I'll come with you, we all will- but she's a day ahead of us. We won't get her on time."
Gendry shook his head and made to mount Rogue again. "She thinks there's a whole company trying to catch up with her. We'll make faster time alone, and she'll have to stop for a few hours at least, if only to let the horse rest, hours which we'll be riding. We'll find her," he said, swinging up into the saddle, "and when we do, I'll throw her over my saddle and she won't be leaving it until we reach Storms End."
The smell of smoke was on the air. Ash and charcoal and burning hair mingled with pine and oak and undergrowth. It made Arya's head spin, it lay over her like a heavy blanket, wet wool. It had stopped raining, and the heat of the overhead sun caused the water to rise back into the air, mist swirling around her ankles. Sweat clung to her skin, plastering her hair, sticky and itchy, to the back of her neck. She pushed it away impatiently and licked her lips. Her clothes were uncomfortably damp, dried off from crossing the ford but still moist enough to rub her skin. She ignored it and swung off of Astrid's back.
"Go on, girl," she said, tying the reins so that they wouldn't slip around the mares neck. She pushed the mare's neck, but she just snorted, her ears pricked forwards. Arya hummed gently, and phased into her, just enough to persuade the horse to trot back the way she had come. She would continue alone from here; she would be too easily noticed if she had a fancy horse, or indeed any horse, and she was stealthier on foot.
As she progressed through the trees the smell of smoke grew stronger, and soon enough she began to see signs of a settlement nearby, pathways through the foliage. The nearer she drew to the sight the deeper the ash filled the footsteps she followed. She could hear voices, which grew more distinct with each step she took. The trees began to break slightly, and the ground opened up. Arya crouched down and crawled under a hedge, taking in the scene before her.
Black, against a blue sky. Black walls, black stones, black wood. Everything in sight, blackened by the fire. She could still feel the heat coming off of the rubble that had yet to be touched, smoking, burning piles of what were peoples homes just a day and a night prior. The nearest building- or what remained of it- was no more than fifteen yards away. Three of its walls were still standing, though the roof had collapsed entirely. The other shells of houses were a bit further away. Arya waited, and then darted out.
Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She didn't pause as she pulled herself up onto the window and vaulted inside, landing silently on her feet. It was thick with smoke inside, as she had hoped it would be, enough that no one was likely to come in, and no one was likely to see her should they pass by. She crept over to the front wall and crouched down. There was a long crack between the rough stones, where it had not been built with mortar, forming a gap just big enough for her to see out of.
The village was small, no more than ten or twelve cottages, all of them charred and collapsing. Wagons lay tipped over, their contents spilled across the mud, gritty and grey with the still falling ash. And, in the mud, lying like broken rag dolls, were the bodies. Burnt, shrunken carcasses. Arya allowed her gaze to move past them. She had seen this before, too many times for her to let it affect her when there was work to be done.
Just past the bodies there was a sort of pen, the kind made by knocking wooden beams together so that they hold each other up. The kind one might use to keep pigs in. Yet it was not pigs inside, or sheep, but humans. Women and children, mostly. Arya estimated there to be about twenty of them, maybe fewer. A guard stood, leaning against the fence, his back to her. Arya watched as one of the children began to wail, and he turned around and cuffed it, sending it sprawling into the mud.
She wanted to charge out, to stick Needle through his gullet and watch his life flow out of him, hot and thick and red, wanted to watch him suffer. But she didn't. Instead she inhaled and forced herself to repeat those words that had saved her life so many times before. Just so. Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth. Syrio's words, from all those years ago. See with her eyes. Hear with her ears.
Arya forced herself to look past the prisoners. In the centre of the hamlet there was what looked to be some kind of communal storage barn, still in good enough condition, all the walls and roof intact. Laughter and speech floated out of the windows. Arya watched carefully, taking in every detail. There was only one door, but she didn't know which way it opened. That was still good though; only one escape route. The roof was thatch, surprising it hadn't caught fire. There was one window, but small and high up.
As she watched three men came out, swigging ale from heavy tankards. They carried crude swords and wore leather and chain mail, but nothing else. Simple. And just like what she saw at Duskendale. Arya watched them walk over to the one guarding the prisoners. She couldn't hear them, but one of them, tall and bearded, pointed into the pen. The guard nodded, and Arya watched with fury as they climbed over the fence and dragged a young woman out of the pen, ignoring her wails.
The bearded one began to half carry her away, and Arya realised with start that he was heading for the building she was in. Quick as a snake, she crawled behind a table, which was lying on its side. She listened as he pulled her in, sobbing, and threw her onto the stinking straw pallet. Arya's hand went to her knife, her hand tightening a round the hilt.
Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya silently pushed away from the table, any sounds covered by the girls terrified shrieks. The man was fumbling at her skirts, and the girl pressed her face into the straw, trying to forget what was happening. Arya supposed that it was better to do while the girl wasn't watching.
Arya's hand flashed, and her knife slit through bone and sinew. Hot, black blood sprayed out of his throat, and he gurgled sickeningly before falling forwards. Arya wiped her knife on her breeches and shoved him off the frozen girl with her foot. The girl bolted upright and took one look at the mans body. Arya shot forward and pressed her hand against the girls mouth, half a second before her scream alerted the whole camp.
Arya pressed her finger to her lips. "Quickly, there isn't much time," she breathed. The girls breathing was ragged and she stared at Arya in fear, but nodded. Arya waited for a couple of seconds and then, slowly, took her hand away. Immediately the girl's face snapped towards her attacker's desecrated body, and fear flashed across her face again. Arya shook her head. "Forget him; we need to go, now. Get up."
She took the girls elbow and pulled her up. She was taller than Arya, with filthy blond hair falling out of a tangled braid. "Out the window," Arya breathed. "Now." She helped the girl across the room, guiding her through the smoke and rubble. "When it's clear run straight for the trees and don't stop," she instructed as she gave the girl a boost up onto the window ledge. "Keep going. You may come across a company of men. Ask for Lord Baratheon, and don't be afraid to tell him who you are. Got it?"
The girl nodded. "I...thank you," she whispered. Arya swallowed.
"Go, now." The girl jumped off the ledge, and Arya watched as she waited, and then sprinted for the trees, where she quickly disappeared into the growth. Once it was clear Arya had to think. The guards would come when the man didn't return, and they would find his body.
Moving quickly, Arya dragged his body over to the half of the building that was deepest in fallen roof. She didn't have much time, not enough to do the job properly, but if she was quick... Arya gripped her knife and hacked off a long strand of his hair, and then stripped him of his leather vest, chain mail and sword. She rolled his body under the rubble and covered him as best as she could.
Her fingers got to work immediately, twisting and plaiting the strands of hair among her own. She dressed in his clothes and, when she was done, pulled out the knife she had used to kill him. She had only wiped it hastily, and the blade was still slick with blood, pooling in the runners. She collected it up, still warm, on her fingertips and drew a line across her forehead with it. It wouldn't do quite the same as changing face, but it would do enough to get her in.
She probed her face with her fingers, as she always did, and noted no changes in her face; her lips were still chapped, her cheeks still soft. She held up the blade of the knife, and reflected back to her was the face of the girl's would be assailant; thick eyebrows, ruddy cheeks, a hook nose and a trimmed beard. As she looked at it she began to see through it; glamours were not so reliable as other faces, but it was better than nothing.
When she exited the cottage smoke was already billowing from the open roof, and shouts of alarm were raised. She cleared her throat and then strode towards the pen that was filled with the prisoners. The two guards she had observed earlier crossed over to her.
"Haesten, what the fuck?" The one growled. Arya saw his fists clench at his sides. "Care to explain why that building is on fire?"
Arya-or rather, Haesten- shrugged and smirked. "Stupid bitch wouldn't stay still." The angry guard motioned for her to continue. "I broke her neck, and set fire to her. Figured that it didn't matter if the building went up too." She said it maliciously, a cruel sneer crossing across her false face. Of course, it wasn't the girl that was burning, she should be well into the forest by now, but the real Haesten. Well, she couldn't have someone running into the body while she was inhabiting his face, could she?
The guard in front of her let out a string of curses. "We're here to do a job, not fuck and fire up houses that don't matter."
Arya sucked her teeth and stroked the coarse beard at her chin. "Yeah?" She asked slowly. "And what is that? Because I don't see anything to do other than fuck and fire." She chuckled under her breath and watched as the man in front of her fumed silently. "Perhaps you should give it a go, you look like you need to relax."
The angry guard, taller than Haesten by half a head but also half as wide, stepped closer, and Arya could see the vein throbbing at his temple. "Don't act the dumb cunt, you know that we are here for them," he snapped, pointing towards the pen. "We have to be ready at a moments notice, or have you forgotten?" He snarled. "You know what he'll do if he gets angry." With that he shoved Arya's- or Haesten's- shoulder roughly. "Don't. Make. Him. Angry." He turned and stalked off, and Arya could practically see the anger radiating from him.
Playing her part, Arya swore under her breath and slammed a thick hand down onto the fence, causing several of the prisoners to squeak and shudder away in fear. The other guard shrugged. "He is right, an arse, that's true, but right. Do you want to end up watching your own guts being pulled out of your belly while you still breathe?"
Arya shot him an irritated look. "It's not like he would be concerned with me, just one of his band. I doubt he'll much care for one wench either." She gestured to the building, where the real Haesten's skin was melting off of his bones. She rubbed her beard and exhaled. "I need a pissing drink," she grumbled, and headed to the central building, where she assumed the majority of the band were.
As she neared she could hear raucous laughter, smell beer that had not been left to brew for long enough. She pushed through the doors and strode confidently to the barrels, snatching a wooden tankard from the side. As she tapped the ale she took in her surroundings subtly. No more than twenty men, but likely several more spotted about the burned village. Thirty then, no great difficulty. As she watched their drunken roaring she resisted shaking her head; the fools- they should be more wary. That guard that had yelled at her had the right of it; even if there wasn't the threat of the Black Knight- she assumed- they should be more vigilant than this. Again, she wondered if it was all some set up, some big rouse to draw someone into a trap- but who? Gendry? What would the point of that be?
She waited until the ale slopped over the sides of the tankard and then made her way over a bench in the corner of the room, adopting a sulky expression. The closest table to her seemed particularly rowdy, and she attempted to hone in their conversation, but it seemed to her just a lot of useless drivel. She was just considering getting up and leaving when one of the drunk men stood abruptly and announced loudly that he was going for a piss. Arya watched as he went out of the door and set her tankard down before standing up and leaving, putting weight behind her steps to avoid someone asking her where she was going.
For a moment Arya thought she had lost him and kicked herself internally- some faceless assassin she was!- but then she saw him head around the back of one of the semi standing cottages. She edged her way across the muddied ground and pressed herself against the corner.
Moments later her knife was pressed closely against the mans throat. In his panic the man inhaled, ready to shout out, but her hand covered his mouth instantly. "Squeal and I'll cut your throat to the bone," she growled in Haesten's deep tones. He nodded and then winced as the movement caused the blade to nick his skin.
Stumbling under his weight Arya forced him around, and peered around the corner; the building he had chosen wasn't far from the trees, near where she had sent the girl. Arya weighed her options; she could either force him across to the trees and hope they weren't seen, or she could kill him now and leave quietly before it was noticed. She shook herself and steeled her nerve. If she killed him now she wouldn't have a chance to get more information.
"Listen here, scum," she whispered. "Do as I say and this knife stays clean. Got it?" He nodded, more carefully this time, and, taking a deep breath, Arya pushed him forwards. She forced herself to walk- running would only be more awkward and likely to attract attention. Each step they grew closer to the trees, yard by yard until they had reached the shadows. Arya pushed him on until they were out of sight, and then quickly relieved him of his only sword, a rusted half blunt thing. She shoved him forwards.
"Walk," she ordered. "Quickly, or I'll run you through." She followed behind him, directing him through the trees until she knew they were far enough away. When they were Arya shoved him against a sturdy oak and took him in. He was of middling height, with lusterless brown hair and eyes. His member still swung free of his breeches, and she sneered inwardly with disgust at how pathetic he was, whimpering and cowering before her. It'll be easy getting what I want out of him, she thought absently, as she flicked her knife in her hand.
"Haesten?" He asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion, jaw quivering. "What- whats going on?"
Arya breathed out heavily. "And I thought maybe you were clever," she sighed. "I told you to be silent." She flashed her knife and he flinched away. Arya smirked. "Do as I say, and this has no reason to come anywhere near you. Understand?" He nodded. "Good. Then tell me, who are you?"
The man opened and closed his lips in confusion. "I- you know who I am, what do you mean?"
Arya cocked her head and grinned slowly, "You people have no imagination," she said disparagingly, before slowly dragging her hand down her face, feeling the glamour fall away like water. She watched as the mans face grew into one of horror and grinned. She wouldn't normally have taken off her disguise but it was tiring to maintain and who was he going to tell? She had no plans of letting him walk away afterwards. "Now, tell me who you are or else I'll snip off that thing between your legs and I'll feed it to the crows."
The man struggled with his words before stuttering out an answer. "'Rick, Lady. Just a soldier is all."
Arya slammed her knife into the wood, half an inch from his ear, pressing her face up close to his as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. "You lie. Tell the truth this time."
He shuddered. "Raster. My name is Raster."
Arya nodded slowly and yanked out her knife. She turned around casually, before leaning against a tree, one knee bent, her foot against the trunk as she studied the tip of her knife. "And why are you here, Raster? What is it that you are doing here?" She asked without looking at him, but she knew he was trembling with fear, and some deep seated part of her relished in his fear, soaking it in like sunlight.
"We was told to take the village Lady," he said. "Jus' to take as many alive as possible. Preferably women an' chillun." Arya gestured impatiently fro him to continue. "Tha's all, jus' take 'em, an' wait for a group of others to tell us the plan."
Arya looked up sharply. "A group? Sent by who?"
"I don't know, just that they come from up north of 'ere," he said, his face white. "They was meant to join us weeks ago , but they never did so we jus' went along with the plan."
Arya bit the tip of her tongue to stop herself from accidentally speaking her thoughts. This man, Raster, he believed that a group was coming to tell them further plans, a group heading south. Could it be that the group that had been tagging the company, the group she had encountered following their stay at the Crossroads, was the one he spoke of? They had been heading south, too far from the Company to be spies, and she had never learned why.
But why would Euron want petty bandits to burn some random village in the Kingswood? If it was slaves that he wanted then why choose a place right on the Baratheon Company route? He's goading me, Arya knew. He doesn't need to goad Gendry, he has no reason to. It's me that he is taunting. Arya felt a shiver run through her body at the realisation. Euron slaughtered a village jut to prove a point, just to taunt her. Arya allowed herself to shutter her eyes for a second as she thought. The angered guard earlier, the one that had yelled at who had thought to be Haesten- he had described what Arya had thought at the time to be the Black Knight, but what if it was nothing to do with him? What if she had been right in thinking this was a challenge, but wrong in the opponent?
Slowly horror coursed through her veins. So focused had she been on the Black Knight that she had forgotten the biggest threat, the real danger, but he hadn't forgotten her, as he had just made plain. Euron was an enemy that Arya didn't know how to face. She couldn't go after him, not if he was at sea, not while she was stuck in the Stormlands. Unless... what if the Black Knight was working with Euron? Euron had done it before, used raiders to round himself up captives to sell as slaves. The women and children at the village were to be taken somewhere, what if he planned to do the same now as he had years ago? Sell slaves to build an army- the army that Elmar Frey believed was his?
She turned back to Raster or whatever he was called, ignoring his pitiful attempts to tuck himself back into his britches. "Who? Who organised all of this?" She asked, more hurriedly than before, a sense of urgency now that she understood the truth of the burned village.
"I don't know, truly I don't," he stuttered, licking his lips. "We was told by another group of bandits, heading north. We were raiding down around the Straits o' Tarth when they came, promised us gold if we did it. That's true an all I know, lady." His face had gone sickly pale green, the whites of his eyes flashing when she stepped closer.
"What else can you tell me?" She purred. "There must be something. Where were you planning on taking the captives?"
He shook his head. "Tha's what the others, the group cumin' south was meant to tell us, but they ant' come yet. We was gonna wait another two days and then..."
Arya cocked her head. "And then...?" She stepped closer. "What were you going to do with them if the group didn't turn up?"
Her tone was softer than before, velvet and cream and all things gentle, but even the stupid man before her was able to detect the danger in it. "Please, I don' know, I don'-"
"Were you going to kill them?" She asked, disgusted with the turd before her. "Perhaps you were going to lock them all up in that building, and then burn it down with them inside?" She saw it in his face. "Ahh, that was your plan."
He shook his head as she stepped closer gain, pressing himself into the bark, akin to prey trapped by a snarling wolf. "Please, I wasun' , I want'd nought to do with it, I swear it."
"Oh I see," Arya said, her lip curling over her teeth. "You swear it. You were just going to watch. Well..." she cocked her head. "Now you can watch yourself bleed to death."
"No, I- please, please," the man pleaded, but it was too late.
Arya flashed her knife and suddenly there was blood, pouring from his groin. He yelled and made to run, but Arya yanked out another knife and slammed it through his shoulder, nailing him to the tree. "Did you have nothing to do with the burning either?" She snarled. "Or did you just watch that too?"
He cried out incoherently, his words all meshing ad muddling together as blood pooled at his feet, turning the green grass red.
"I counted seventeen dead bodies," Arya told him tonelessly, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side as she regarded his panic stricken face.. "When I trained in Braavos with the Faceless Guild I was taught never to use death for revenge, but what about all of those families back at the village? Do you think they feel the same?" She took a hold of the knife in his shoulder and twisted it slowly. "How do you think it feels to burn? To feel as your skin melts from your bones and your eyes melt in their sockets, your tongue swelling and bursting in your mouth? I imagine it feels a hundred times worse than this." She yanked out the knife and sunk it into another spot, watching the agony on his face. "That's how I'm going to make you feel," she whispered, just before she saw the acceptance in his eyes, the look of prey knowing that he was going to die.
Arya smiled wolfishly.
Gendry pulled up his horse roughly, bring his fist up to tell his men to halt. Rogue flattened his ears at the harsh yank on the reins, but Gendry ignored him; he had seen movement in the tree's. They had been riding hard all day, him and those that had been the Brotherhood, along with some of his household guard. The rest of the Company was still struggling at the swollen waters of the ford.
"Lord, what it is?" Lem asked, his horse pulling in a circle. "Raiders?"
"No," Gendry said. "Over there, movement. Anguy, knock your bow. Train it in those trees."
"Already on it," Anguy said, and Gendry heard the creak of the string being pulled tight. "Shall I fire a warning shot?"
Gendry nodded. "Just into that elm. Whatever it is will come out soon enough." For a moment he thought he saw brown hair, and almost shouted for Anguy to wait, in case it was Arya, but it was too late. The arrow struck the tree with a loud thwack, followed shortly by a loud shriek. That wasn't Arya, he thought, urging his horse forward a few steps. It wasn't Arya but it was definitely a girl.
"Come out," he called, his voice deep and authoritative. "No need to hide, we won't hurt you."
He waited a beat, and then a beat more, and then there was a movement again. He watched, his brow raised as a girl stepped out from behind a tree and moved towards the track. She was slight, but taller than Arya, in a ragged brown dress. Her hair was so filthy that it appeared brown, as he had mistaken moments ago, but now that it was in the light he saw that it was actually blonde.
"Who are you, girl?" He asked, more kindly than before. "Come now, we won't hurt you. Are you from the village?"
The girl flicked a strand of hair from her face as she regarded him and nodded, her dirty face ridden with tears. Gendry took in the state of her dress once more and his stomach roiled uncomfortably as he took in the evidence of what had happened to her.
"Are you Lord Baratheon?" She whimpered. "I was told to ast for a Lord Baratheon."
He nodded, taken aback. "I am he," he said, before swinging down from his horse. No need to frighten the girl further. "May I ask who sent you?"
She teetered back a little as he neared her slowly, though she didn't move away. "I don't know milord," she whispered. "A girl. She saved me from one of the raiders at the village."
Gendry looked over his shoulder and saw the understanding on his mens faces; Arya. It must have been. She had gotten into the village undetected somehow. For a moment he felt pure relief, relief that she was- or had been- alright, relief that she had saved this girl from a tortuous fate. Then he felt anger again. Anger that she had not only gone ahead with her plan to spy on them, but that she had evidently gone into the village rather than simply observe. Anger that there must have been a chance to get out if she had sent this girl away but had chosen to stay. Then worry. Worry that she had been discovered, or hurt in her attempt to free this girl.
Gendry shook himself and shrugged off his cloak. He handed it to the girl slowly and waited for her to take it. She eyed him nervously and then took it, mumbling her thanks as she shrugged it on. "I understand that you are afraid," Gendry said, gently but firmly, "but I need you to tell me everything. Everything that you can." He gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Can you do that for me?"
She nodded. "They came a couple of days ago," she whispered. "Out of nowhere. Set the village alight. They killed my family, all of them." Gendry felt his blood boil. "They put the survivors in a pen and set guards to watch us. They were waiting for something, I think. Then this morning one of the men took me from the pen and into one of the buildings." She blushed and looked away, uncomfortable. "He was going to force himself on me but before he could she killed him. She came out of nowhere, I didn't even see her. She just slit his throat. Told me to climb out of the window and run into the woods for as far as I could, until I found you."
Gendry sighed and rubbed his jaw. Arya... what was he going to do with her? If he found her alive that was. Gendry pushed the thought from his mind, and looked back at the girl. "What is your name?" He asked gently.
"Faye," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
"I'm very sorry that this has happened to you, Faye," Gendry told her earnestly. "I cannot give you back your family or your home, but I can give you a position in my household, if you want it."
Faye looked up, disbelief etched into her face. "Truly, milord? You would do that for- for me?"
Gendry nodded. "I will make sure that you are safe," he promised. "But now I must go to the village. One of my men will escort you to the Wendwater Ford, where the rest of my men are. You will be safe with them."
She stepped forwards and grasped his hand, in a manner that surprised him, before touching shaking lips to his skin. "Thank you, Lord," she whispered, her voice trembling with heart felt words. "Thank you."
He smiled and signalled for one of his household guards to take her, and watched as she was lead away to his horse. He sighed and looked to Lem and the other men. "We need to find her," he said. "These men sound ruthless. We can't attack them until we know she is safe, or the gods only know what might happen. If only-"
"If only you had more confidence in my abilities."
Gendry snapped around and felt his heart skip a beat as he saw her, stood before him as if nothing were wrong. Gendry searched her quickly for injuries but as far as he could see there were none, not a single scratch. Apart from a few smuts of soot on her skin and clothing she looked as if nothing at all had happened, with her hands tucked neatly behind her back.
Gendry wanted to run to her. He wanted to envelop her so tightly in his arms that he lifted her off the ground. He wanted to breathe in the sweet scent of her hair and feel her against him, safe and unharmed.
When he spoke, his voice was hard. "Lem, Anguy- you may as well head back to the ford. All of you."
Arya watched him expressionlessly as he ordered his men. "What of you, Gendry?" Anguy asked, shifting in the saddle.
Gendry turned around, knowing that she would still be there in a moment. "We will catch you up in a moment. I need to have a word with milady." Anguy nodded and Gendry waited and watched as the small group turned about and trotted back the way they had come. He waited another few minutes just to be sure, his back stiff and fists clenched at his thighs.
Finally he turned around. Arya was still stood calmly, a few yards away. Without a word Gendry stalked towards her, and without breaking his progress, grabbed her roughly by the elbow and dragged her behind him into the trees and off the track. Arya didn't speak or struggle against him, but allowed him to pull her around to face him.
Arya took in Gendry as he stood before her, his muscled chest heaving with anger, his face dark in the shadows of the trees. He let go of her elbow and Arya felt the blood go rushing back down her arm. She braced herself for the tirade she was sure was coming, but it didn't. After a minute Arya spoke.
"Aren't you going to yell at me?" She asked coldly. "Tell me that what I did was dangerous, and reckless and that you can't trust me?"
"What's the point?" He said, equally as cold. "You never listen to me anyway. I have told you over and over again, yet still you put yourself in danger. Help me, Arya, because truly I am at a loss."
Arya bit her lip, trying to read his face, but he was covered by the shadows. "I told you that I could do it."
Gendry's eyes flashed. "So you did it all just to prove a point?" He stepped closer to her and Arya stepped back, cursing herself when she felt the rough bark of a tree scratching her tunic.
"I did it because you wouldn't listen to me," Arya answered. "I did it because it was necessary. And I was right, too."
"You think I care if I was right or wrong?" Gendry asked, his voice rough, lowering his head. "You think that during the days and nights that I had no idea if you were alive or dead I cared if I had been right? Arya, I..." He put a hand to the side of her head, angling her face up. "Arya I could think only that I needed you to be safe. To be alive."
"I am alive," Arya said, "you didn't need to worry." Her tone was reassuring,and she placed her hand over his, but at her words his hold on her seemed to harden, as did his eyes.
"I worry because you have no regard for your own safety," he snarled. "I don't care that you defied me, Arya, truly I have grown to accept that you always will, but that you not only left alone to spy on the raiders- raiders who murdered an entire village- you also entered the camp!" Arya raised her brows questioningly. "That girl, the one you sent while you stayed behind, told me. So you must have been right in the camp. Arya, what were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that we needed information," she snapped, moving away from his hand. "I was thinking that seeing as I was in, and unrecognised, I may as well gather whatever intel I could."
"Damn it Arya, that's not what I meant and you know it!" Gendry bellowed suddenly. "You have no care, no regard for your own life! You tell me over and over that you want me to trust you-"
"I do, I do want you to trust me-"
"Then fucking earn that trust!" He yelled again, slamming his hand into the tree behind her. Arya guarded her face but had she not trained against it she knew that, in that moment, she would have sucked in a shaky breath and pressed away from him. Instead she looked straight into his eyes, eyes full of anger, frustration and... fear. "Arya, I... I know that you're not afraid of murderers or- or rapers, or whoever, I know that you don't need protecting. But even though you don't need it, I still want- nae, need to protect you... do you understand that?" His voice was as rough as a sand sheet, but the words crashed into her in a way that they never had before. He... wanted to keep her safe because... he cared about her. Because he was there and he wanted to protect her.
Arya chewed her lip, unsure how to respond. He watched her intently, his eyes drifting down slowly from her tormented eyes to the lip she tugged between her teeth. As his eyes travelled back up to hers and their gazes met he stepped closer again, his hand sliding down the tree until it rested just above her shoulder.
"Gendry..." Arya whispered, lost in the heat of his gaze. "I don't know how to... I don't know what to do." And she didn't, she truly, honestly didn't. She felt so torn, so conflicted, like a war was raging within herself and against herself and the same time. She wanted to be the lone wolf, the ruthless assassin, the angry, bitter and icy being that she had been for so long... but she also wanted him. She wanted Gendry, and his heat, she wanted his advice and his companionship. She wanted to ride with him, as she had wanted so long ago when he was a boy who didn't know who he was and she was a girl who had lost everything.
"You don't have to always know the answer, Arya," he said lowly. "You don't always have to be strong. Let me show you."
Arya hesitated, her stomach tied in knots. Less than an hour ago Arya had been torturing a man. Before that she had been infiltrating a camp of murderers. But now she was standing here, caged in by the man she had come to realise she cared for more than almost anyone, ready to crumble into his arms. Who was she? Was she the lone wolf, who howled for her pain and killed to gain control? Or was she the girl, who longed to allow herself to be held for once? As she looked into his eyes Arya knew she could never be both.
Arya let out a tense breath and stepped forward just a little. That was enough for him, the sign he had been waiting for, and Gendry closed the rest of the small distance between them, pulling her into his arms as he had been longing to do since the instant he realised she was gone. He lifted her up off her feet, and Arya wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck and breathing in that scent that she so loved. She could feel his heat, the warmth that made it feel as though he had a whole sun blazing under his skin. In her arms he felt so real, so steady, a rope to hold onto as she struggled through the dark. Her prayer, her need for vengeance, each one a single strand, enough to give her hope but liable to snap if she held them too tightly, faded away in comparison to Gendry. He was an anchor, her anchor. Real and strong and hers. Arya felt tears prick her eyes as she realised how much he really meant to her, and struggled to keep them from spilling over as he smoothed his fingers through her hair, inhaling deeply. Arya felt, for the first time in years, that perhaps she could allow herself this one thing in her life, this one light in the dark.
"Arya?" He asked suddenly, his tone tinged with something strange.
"Hmm?" She hummed, as he slid her down a little, his fingers plucking something in her hair.
"What's this?"
Arya's stomach plummeted.
Well that was a long one! I hope you enjoyed it, there was a lot going on in this chapter! Again, I'm so sorry for how long this took, I've just been super busy, I will try and keep up better for the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, Arya has had a bit of a wild ride in this one. Please, please, ever so pretty please with a cherry on top leave a review, just so I know where you guys are at with this story and what you want! It would super help me if you could! Ok, I hope you enjoy the next chapter- when it arrives- and thanks so much for sticking with me so far! Over and Out xoxo
P.S- I made up the whole glamour thing; I know it isn't strictly what the books say, but I feel like it's kind of open to interpretation! I hope you enjoyed it!