DISCLAIMER: yeah, it's still not mine :((
Hi guys, hope everyone's ok, sorry for the super long wait between updates, though hey, I'm sure you're used to it by now! Not very much happened last chapter, so I'll keep the recap brief. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it, please drop a message or a review to let me know your thoughts!
Aaanyway, hope you enjoy, over and out xox
RECAP:
The company reach the Stormlands and camp. Gendry takes Arya up a hill and shows her a view of all of the Stormlands. Arya becomes frightened at the prospect of settling down as she sees it all, and begins to question whether she should leave or not, despite her previous promise to stay for a year. She is uncomfortable with the changes she has noticed in herself over the last few months, and believes that she will never be happy to just pretend to be something she is not. The company begins to split up, with troops departing for their lords within the Stormlands. Arya and Gendry have another tiff, and Arya leaves in a huff (more at herself than him, as she realises that she was the one who snapped first and said something nasty.)
Arya gazed into the trickling stream without seeing, her mind a whirling torrent of thoughts. Being in the Stormlands- that had hit her harder than she had thought it would. Perhaps it was that for once they were in Gendry's territory, or maybe it was because it all made everything seem to be happening so much faster, but Arya hadn't felt right since she had first laid eyes on Storms End. It was like a hand had snared it's way around her heart and was squeezing it, tighter and tighter with every step that took her closer to the castle.
Arya wasn't a fool. She knew that she had lashed out at Gendry because she wanted to be angry. Angry was easy, familiar. Anger was an old friend, and she greeted it readily, but fear? It may not be any newer than anger, but it was decidedly the harder of the two to deal with neatly.
Fear cuts deeper than swords. That was what she had told herself, ever since that awful day in Kings Landing. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya had always understood those words to mean if one could only conquer their fear, understand it even, then the worst was dealt with. The danger was not in a sword edge or an ax blade, it was in the fear of them, and Arya had striven to do everything she could so that they would never scare her again, but this... this was entirely new. How could one overcome the unknown?
Being afraid of attack was easy. Learn to anticipate, to see, to win. That was all there was to it, and Arya had never struggled with it. Life is a series of actions and reactions. Anticipate the move, incapacitate it. But how could she possible incapacitate this? This was not something to be solved with the throwing of knives or the edge of a sword. This was something that required something else entirely new, and Arya was shaken to realise that she didn't know what that was.
Perhaps if she couldn't anticipate the move, couldn't block it, there was another solution. She could run, run before there was a chance to be hurt, but Arya had done that before and it hadn't worked out all that well. No, this problem required something much more difficult than mastering the arts of swordplay.
Arya sighed heavily and crushed the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw colours, and even then she didn't stop straight away. What was she supposed to do?
Arya didn't want to be a wife. She didn't want to be a lady, and while Gendry had never asked that of her, through marrying him she would be practically clapping the shackles around her own wrists. But where else did she have to go? She had nowhere, she had no one, and any move she made could result in catastrophe for all involved. If she stayed she would be making herself a slave again- not to Gendry, but a slave all the same, and she had sworn to herself that she would never do that again. If she ran she could put Jon in danger- and even if it didn't, what would she do?
She had nothing left to do. She had killed Cersei, and Walder Frey, she had slaughtered them like they had her family. But that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough because she was still angry. She still hated them all, even though they were gone and she was not, she still wanted to be able to look into their eyes as she took their life, over and over and over again until she had drunk her fill of retribution.
But perhaps she did still have some things to do. She had to kill Euron, possibly Elmar Frey. Revenge, she craved it, craved it like a man dying of thirst craved water. She had spent so long being angry, driven by fury, that she didn't know how to live without it. How could she ever be content to just be a little wife? Watch as Gendry became more powerful, achieved things she wanted to achieve, stuck watching by the window until she grew old and slow? Arya screwed her hands into fists. She wouldn't let that happen. Ever. But then... what would she do when she was old and slow, when her muscles began to wilt and her joints grew tired? She would have nowhere, have nothing. She could return to Winterfell, maybe, but what then? She'd have nothing to do. Bran was Warden, she would have nothing to fill her days as she awaited death. At least with Gendry, as the Lady of Storms End, she would always have things to oversee, be a part of.
Arya wrinkled her nose. That was not what would decide her path for her. That was how Sansa would think, what was best for her in the long run, but Arya knew that she could never use practicality as her reason to give up everything she wanted for herself.
But what did she want?
Killing Elmar would be a matter of a days work, and would bring little satisfaction. Killing Euron... that would satisfy her lust for revenge. It would. She was sure... so why didn't she feel sure that it would? He was the one that had caused her so much suffering, the one that had made her a slave. His death would bring her closure. It should. Would it?
Arya sighed and pinched her nose. Maybe this was just the way she was wired. To walk alone, always in pursuit of something, never settling. It was all she knew, so how could she just stop and trade it all for a married life? But what exactly would she be trading? Endless nights alone by a fire for night spent with a man she could love? Anger and bitterness for contentment and happiness? Years spent traipsing the lands in search of something she could never have for a home and a family and peace?
Arya knew it was crazy not to want those things, but deep down she didn't. But did she want the alternative either? Arya knew the answer. Neither would ever bring her true happiness. She would never be at peace, but always stuck in the past, reliving the horrors that had been her life, unable to move forward from them. Briefly Arya entertained returning to Braavos. She hadn't been ready, the last time, to give up her need for revenge, her burning desire to kill those who had earned their place on her list, but maybe once Euron was dealt with... maybe she could. She had wanted it for so long. Had tried so hard to be one of them. She had been ready to give up everything she was, everything that made her, for it. In the end the only thing that had really stopped her was her desire to complete her list of vengeance.
But Arya supposed that wasn't entirely true. She hadn't been able to justify killing those who did not deserve death, and that would never have been acceptable to the Guild, and she had always been too quick to use her blade to fulfil her own desires rather than those of the Many Faced God. They would never take her back anyway. They had sent the Waif after her, and while she had bought back her own life with the death of the assassin she had not bought her forgiveness. Besides was that what she really wanted? To live out eternity in the cold, dark halls of the House of Black and White? For the Faceless Men did not have the sweet relief of death to end their miserable lives. Arya knew that if she saw death as a release from that life then it was not what she truly wanted. She had known that anyway.
So what did she want? Apart from Euron's death she did not have anything left. She had killed who she needed to kill, she had travelled from the Land of Always Winter to the Shadow Lands of Asshai, she had reunited with what was left of her family. But she hadn't found peace. A part of her, deep, deep inside, suspected that she never really would.
But maybe she could come close to it. She did care for Gendry. She enjoyed being with him, his company made her happy. But did she love him? She had told Jon at Kings Landing that she did, but was it in the way her parents had loved each other? She suspected not. She cared about him, deeply, as much as Jon and Sansa, and she would die for him if need be, but was that really love in the way that everyone meant? Or did she just love him as she had when they were children? She thought about the moments when they had kissed, been close to one another, and wondered what they meant. He was the only man she had ever wanted to kiss, the only man she had ever been close with who wasn't Jon or her other brothers. Did that mean she loved him, or was it just a coincidence? Arya didn't believe in coincidences, but then, she didn't really believe in love either.
Of course, it was possible to be attracted to a person without loving them, without wishing to marry them. Not in the way a soldier might be attracted to a whore, but friends who sought comfort in one another. Is that what Gendry was to her? Then what was that ache, deep in her chest, whenever she thought about leaving him or losing him?
Arya shook her head. This wasn't helping her. She needed to do something, clear her head. As she walked she had come across a small settlement. A farm, perhaps, though a small one. A village that shared a farm, then? Arya walked towards where she could see a gathering of people, building some kind of structure. She guessed the damage was caused by storms, or maybe a fire. Perhaps it had even been bandits.
As she crossed the field land and grew closer, Arya couldn't help but liken them to the common folk in the North, not carefree exactly, but not weighed down by expectancy and society. But after a few moments Arya began to notice the differences. Most noticeably the ensemble had a different look to the Northerners, with tanned skin, dark hair and dark eyes. They wore loose fitting clothes that left their arms either bared to the sun or concealed only by thin sleeves, presumably to prevent sunburn. Arya smiled as she saw a small girl run to a man, presumably her father, and hug his leg while pointing at Arya. He looked up, suspicious at first, though he nodded at her in welcome as she approached.
"Good day, lady," he greeted, eyeing her. "Can we be helping you?" His daughter hid behind his leg, but he shooed her away gently and she ran off to join a group of other children who had yet to notice her.
Arya smiled and shook her head. "Rather, I was wondering what you were doing?" She asked, nodding at the rough structure a little ways away. "I'm travelling with the Lord Baratheon, but I wanted to venture a little. I haven't been in the Stormlands before."
He hesitated and then nodded. Arya was surprised at his easy acceptance of her. In the North the people were much more reserved, much more suspicious. "Aye, I see. He near then?"
Arya nodded, as he lead her towards the group of people erecting the structure. "Not even an hour North of here. You seen him before?" She asked.
The man smiled. "Indeed. He stopped here once, on his patrols, to help build that barn over there," he said, gesturing to a new looking barn. "Never seen one as strong as him. Lifted that there beam all by himself, without so much as blinking. He's like his lord father like that, I s'pose."
Arya smiled as he talked. It wasn't hard to imagine. Even as children Gendry had always been ready to volunteer to do what needed doing. She remembered how he had fixed all of the armour for the Brotherhood for them, even though they could not pay him, and he had not yet been knighted, or even thought to ask.
"You'd say he's a good lord then?" She asked curiously.
The man hummed, and scrubbed at the stubble on his chin with his hand. "He's young, that's for sure, and ain't got a whole lot of experience, being a bastard and all, but aye, I think he'll be great. He made good work when he came, that's for sure and certain, and I don't doubt that'll continue now he's back, 'specially with that new wife of his."
Arya cringed internally. Apparently it was a known fact, her betrothal to him. "His wife?" she asked.
The man stopped to pick up a tray or tools and made to carry them to the workers, who looked at her curiously. "Well, soon enough. That Stark girl, you know the one, been missing all these years, suddenly pops up out o' nowhere. No- one knows a thing about her, apart from that she's somehow managed to keep herself alive by herself all these years." He passed the tools to a boy, red cheeked and sweating.
Arya hummed. "I imagine she was hidden away at some minor lordlings holdfast, out of the way," she shrugged. "Is there anything I can help with?" She asked, gesturing at the building.
The man looked her up and down and smiled. "We could use an extra pair of hands, though we have nothing to pay you with," he shrugged.
Arya smiled. "Just tell me everything you know about the Lord and his bride, about the Stormlands. I'd like to be acquainted with the place before I settle in, that'll be more than pay enough." She rolled up her sleeves quickly, and pulled her hair away from her face.
The man shrugged. "If you're sure. What's your name?" He asked, guiding her towards a crossbeam.
"Cat," she said. "I'm from the North. My intended serves Lord Baratheon, so I came down here with him. So what do you want me to do?" She asked.
"Well, we need this crossbeam secured along the runners," he explained, pointing at a long piece of wood that had been lifted and left resting along a set of four runners that made up the ceiling. "But the boys are out on the next farm over, and the girls are at market, so we haven't had anyone small enough to climb up there." He paused. "If you'd rather do something else, there's always-"
"I don't mind," she said, with an easy smile. "Those the ropes there?"
The man smiled, "Aye, those be the ones. I'm Willem, by the way," he added, passing her the ropes.
Arya smiled, climbed the ladder, and set to work. As she did the men worked below her, nailing boards along the sides to make the walls. Each joined the conversation quickly, telling her about what they had all gone through during the wars, the bandits- though none had encountered the Black Knight or heard anything she did not already know- and about Gendry becoming lord. It was interesting, to hear about him from their perspective. They clearly respected him and liked him well, but it was strange to hear of him from people who saw him as their lord. Arya still thought of him as the boy who had travelled the Riverlands with, her friend. The conversation circled back around to her again, and she was amused to hear the stories.
When the company stopped to take lunch, Arya refused politely, knowing that they likely had little to spare and that she would have a full belly before the night was out. "It was great meeting you, but I ought to try and find the band again, else they'll arrive at the castle before me and I'll be locked out!" she japed.
Willem thanked her for her help, and said that should she ever visit again they would receive her with welcome, and she made her way back towards the road, guessing that they would be a league south of where she had left them.
Gendry scowled as the company continued the final stretch of their journey. The closer they grew to the castle the more frustrated he grew. He wanted to dig his heels into Rogue's ribs and not stop until he was at the gates, but he couldn't well send his men off without thanking them. They had followed him for two months, all to escort a girl they didn't know, and though each would be paid modestly, Gendry would not become one of those lords who took his men for granted, and instead shook each by the hand and look into their eyes before departing. Of course, it wasn't gold coming straight from his own storage, but rather an amount owed to each lord, who would then dish it out accordingly. All the same, Gendry would not dismiss his men without a demonstration of his appreciation.
"What's got you so angry?" Tom O'Sevens asked from beside him. "Shouldn't you be happy that you're home? Speaking of which, shouldn't the little lady be with you? Going over the threshold and all of that?"
Gendry pressed his lips together. "Milady has no need of my company, nor any company it seems," he growled, taking a swig of wine bitterly.
Tom raised a brow. "She doesn't want to be with you when we arrive?" He asked in a tone of both surprise and doubt. "I know she doesn't exactly care about things like this, but I wouldn't have thought she wouldn't want to be with you when the time came. After all, she came all this way. to get here."
Gendry sighed. "She never wanted to come at all," he said lowly, "as she has made quite plain, many times over. She doesn't need people, she doesn't need a home, and she doesn't need me."
"Mayhaps, but I do need a ride."
Gendry took another swig of the wine. "What happened to yours?" He asked, as he looked down at her. "Besides, I didn't think you needed anything."
He watched her coldly as she stared him down from the ground. "I don't," she bit out, and he scoffed. "But if you still want this, then see it as both a debt paid and an apology for snapping at you." The words sounded strained, as if they had caused her physical pain to get out, and Gendry blinked. Vaguely he was aware that Tom had moved away leaving them alone.
"Debt?" He traced his mind back, and couldn't help but smile a little. "What, the wager from the Inn?" Arya nodded. "I told you, you don't have to. Besides, you should have won anyway." The memory of how had acted that day still made his cheeks burn.
Arya shrugged. "But I didn't. Besides, like I said, think of it as an apology. For earlier." She bit her lip, and Gendry couldn't help but be surprised- was she nervous? Arya Stark, the Lone Wolf, nervous?
"Are you serious?" He asked her, looking her up and down. "Earlier you all but told me that you didn't need me, and it's clear that you don't want to be here. Why the change of heart?" He couldn't help but still be angry with her. She had snapped at him without cause, and while Gendry was not one prone to being emotional- it had hurt, what she had said. Because it was true- she didn't need him. She was incredible. But he had hoped, just a small part of him, that she wanted him regardless. He had been foolish to hope so, and he knew it. She had been open from the beginning that she didn't want any of this, didn't want marriage, or to live at Storms End. Why would she have changed her mind.?
Arya swallowed and licked her lips. "I don't know," she admitted. When he sighed and looked away, she exhaled and turned to walk away.
Gendry sighed again. "Wait." She stopped and turned her face a little. "Well, if you really don't have a ride, I suppose I can share." She turned, eyes wide, and he put out his hand. She took hold of it and he pulled her up so that she sat sideways in front of him between his thighs.
"This isn't pillion," she questioned, settling herself so that she leaned against him. Gendry noted the way she seemed to do it without thinking, something that was strange for a number of reasons- a moon's turn ago and she would have been sat rod straight so that she didn't touch a single inch of him, scowling and cursing the entire way. Hells, a moon's turn ago he doubted that she would have even gotten on his horse voluntarily.
However, these caught Gendry's attention much less than the fact that Arya never did anything without thinking it through first. Every single movement, every single action, seemed planned, deliberate, intended, even small things that seemed meaningless to anyone else. It was like she went through every detail in her mind, both action and consequence, before she did or said anything- even if she regretted it later. So the fact that she was so willing to touch him, with no reason for doing so, made his chest ache. Of course, she touched him if he was helping her onto her horse, or passing her a drink, but they were more effects of another intention rather than the intention itself, whereas this, this meaningless contact- it meant so much more, and Gendry couldn't help but cherish every time she did it.
"No, but I've felt your knife enough times by now to know I want to keep you where I can see you." The words were light, but his voice was still hard, and he felt her sigh against him.
"I'm sorry that I ruined today for you," she said quietly. He looked down in surprise. "I know it means a lot to you." Gendry swallowed at her admission; Arya was as stubborn as he was, so it was odd to hear her admit that she had been wrong.
He nodded, and leaned down, kissing her hair. "Don't worry about it," he said, shrugging. "I know that for all I'm glad to be home, our arrival makes you uncomfortable too. I'm sorry for making that worse, what with showing you the castle from the hill top. I know it scared you." He looked down at her intently, and she hesitated, before elbowing him soundly in the gut, though he saw it coming and tensed so that it didn't knock the wind out of him. He glared down at her reproachfully.
"Scared? Pah!" She spat, not meeting his eye. "What do I have to be scared of? I shouldn't think there's anything left in this land that could scare me."
Gendry couldn't help but be dubious. Arya was one of the bravest people he knew- nae, the bravest. He didn't know any other person that had coped with the things she had, at such a young age, and come out stronger than any of them. Yet, it was surely an exaggeration to say that there was nothing left, nothing at all, that could frighten her? Though it was true that she had not seemed even the smallest bit afraid when she had been told about Euron or Elmar, Gendry was sure he had seen fear in her eyes. When he had told her he knew about the fighting pits, the night that Nymeria sneaked into camp and caused a fight, when Jon confronted her at the Feast... Gendry frowned. The only thing that each of those situations had in common was that they involved her loved ones, rather than her safety in the face of danger. He supposed that proved the effects of the life she had lived as much as anything. If it were anyone else he would wonder whether such lack of regard for their own life meant that their life meant little to them, but why else would Arya have fought so hard to stay alive all of these years if it did not mean anything to her? Or perhaps the fact she had lived through everything she had experienced, at such bad odds, that she subconsciously believed herself invincible? But no- that didn't seem right either. Gendry dismissed the thought immediately; Arya was far too smart to believe that, and she had said as much herself many times over.
"You really think that there is nothing that could frighten you?" He asked, still frowning.
She tilted her head as she watched in, a thoughtful expression on her face as she considered his question. "Maybe there are some things that could scare me," she admitted, though she offered no further elaboration. "What about you?"
Gendry snorted softly, the corner of his lips turning up a little as she waited expectantly. "There are plenty of things that could scare me, milady," he replied, teasing her lightly.
"Like?" She inquired.
Gendry watched her eyes searchingly. "Losing you would be one," he answered, watching and waiting for a reaction, but unsurprised when she didn't give one, her face concealed neatly behind mask that gave nothing away. Gendry wondered what kind of chaos one might find on the other side- a raging tempest or an empty plane?
"I wouldn't fear that," she said, forcing her tone to be lighthearted. "As you say, as long as you keep me in sight, you've nothing to fear." She shrugged, her shoulder rubbing against his chest.
Gendry snorted, and looked down at her with amusement. "Nothing?"
She smirked wickedly. "Well. Maybe not nothing."
As the company advanced on through the Stormlands, Arya noted the keen differences to the North- the people held more colour and warmth about them, and a weariness that came not from character but experience. She supposed that was fair- these people had seen hardship. Though the North had suffered foremost in the Long Night, and had a history of ever close lurking danger that didn't prevail in the South, it had not felt the brutalities of human war, had not been ravaged by raiders or pillaged by bored and hungry armies, not in the way the South had.
"Is it strange for you," she asked suddenly, turning her face to look up at Gendry, "being here, being Lord Baratheon?"
He seemed to consider his answer for a moment, watching her lightly. "It is and it isn't," he answered slowly, causing Arya to narrow her eyes at the vague answer. "I don't know how to be a high born, or how to lead men other than in battle. I suppose I was in charge of that band of rag tag orphans at the inn with the Heddle sisters, but I don't know what I'm doing here most of the time. I don't know how to make small talk with the lords or how to count coffers." Arya snorted, and he looked down at her in curiosity. "What?"
"The Lord of Storms End, counting his pennies?" She chuckled. "I can hardly believe that. Who's your Steward?"
"Don't have one," he shrugged. "At least, Davos handles anything that I don't- does that make him steward?"
Arya hummed. "No, I don't think so. My father's steward at Winterfell, Poole, only handled finance and household. What other appointments have you made? Who's your Castellan? Master of Arms?" Her father had been careful when he appointed roles, and each one had seemed perfect. But that was her father- almost everything he did was perfect.
She watched Gendry as his skin turned slightly darker, and she wondered if that was what he looked like when he blushed. "Don't know about any of that," he admitted. "You see? I don't know what I'm doing. Davos tells me what needs doing, and then I do it."
Arya blinked, taken aback. From the way she had heard the men talk about him she had assumed he was very involved in the running of his kingdom, but she had never guessed that he might do everything himself. "You do everything? What, so if something needs doing, Davos tells you, and you don't think to allocate some of it to others so that you can focus on more important things?"
Gendry scowled, clearly believing her to be critisising him. "Look, I didn't grow up in fancy castles with lots of servants like you did, alright? I grew up on the streets of Flea Bottom, until Tobho took me in. How should I know how to run a castle, let alone a kingdom?" He huffed, refusing to look at her.
Arya felt a flare of anger when he said that she had grown up like a little lady, because that was neither true nor fair, but then she thought about how it must have sounded to him, her interrogating him about the way he ran the castle. She frowned. She had only wanted to know what to expect when the arrived. "Gendry, I'm not doubting you, I'm just... shocked. I don't believe even my father handled everything as a lord. He had a steward, and a Castellan, a maester, master-at-arms, Captain of Guard- I don't even recall the others, and that's because I only payed attention to the interesting roles." She placed her hand on his, which held the reins tightly. "I'm not doubting you. I'm impressed."
He looked down at her in a mixture of emotions that made Arya quark a small smile, suspicious that she might be lying to him, surprised of her summary and embarrassed by the praise- if she had noted his skin going darker to be a mark of his embarrassment correctly.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "Perhaps you could help me with the appointments then. Davos will probably have a few ideas too, though I don't know how much of that he was involved in as Hand under Stannis."
Arya frowned. "I'll try," she said honestly, "but I don't know much about it either. I haven't lived as part of a proper household since I was eight, and it wasn't like I was very involved in the running of it. Do you have a maester?"
Gendry hesitated. "Jurne," he said vaguely. "Can't say I've had much to do with him. He's very reclusive. Come to think of it, I think Davos said something about him sending off for a maester in training, someone young."
Arya hummed in agreement. "That would be good, if Jurne isn't keeping on top of things. My father's maester, Luwin, was as valued as any member in the Household. He was like family." She cocked her head, suddenly, and peered up at him, turning slightly in the saddle. "Is your cousin still here?" She asked, not having thought of it before. "Stannis had a daughter, didn't he? What happened to her?" Arya had heard tales, here and there. but never anything of real importance. She had never known anything of what happened to Stannis, really.
Gendry nodded again. "Yes, Shireen. She's a little older than you I think but not by much. She's very quiet, only really opens up in Davos' company." He frowned. "She was trying to contact her mother last I was here, but I've not had news from Davos about it."
Arya deepened her brow at that, her lips curving downward in a slight frown. "Why, is her mother not at Storms End?"
Gendry shook his head. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him as he urged Rogue down over a fallen wall, securing her as they dropped down to the other side. It was only then that Arya realised that they had ridden ahead of the company further than she had thought, ranging a little ways off the main road. "No, after Stannis died in the war and the Red Woman disappeared, Selyse returned to her family home in the Reach. Brightwater, I think, though I'm not sure. She left Shireen with Davos, who was with Jon at the time, and he brought her to Storms End."
As he spoke, Arya reflected that she didn't know as much about Westeros as she had once. Before she left for Braavos she had considered herself to have a good knowledge of the whole realm. Though she had never much cared for learning which sigil belonged to which lord and over which castle he ruled, her love of learning the histories of Westeros had forced her to learn. She had enjoyed looking at the old maps, learning about the places where there had been great battles, had liked hearing stories about Nymeria and her ten thousand ships, about Visenya and Vhagar, Rheanys and Meraxes. But now it was she who didn't know what had happened to who in her absence, and Gendry who did.
"Where are we?" She asked suddenly, as Rogue splashed through a shallow stream. "Shouldn't you be with the Company?"
"Not for a little while," he said lightly. "I just figured you'd prefer it like this to the boring road. Besides, if we turned and galloped back to the company now we'd be there in under two minutes." He smiled, and nuzzled his nose into her neck. "Why? Are you scared that the big bad wolf will come and get us?"
Arya flashed her sharp white teeth at him, and nipped the tip of his nose, causing him to pull away sharply, shock and amusement in his eyes. "Have you forgotten so quickly, milord?" she teased. "I am the big bad wolf, and it is you who should be frightened of me."
He smirked down at her., tightening his thick forearm around her waist again. "You don't look so big to me," he replied, not a second before she darted in and nipped his throat. He laughed. "Was that supposed to scare me? I could knock all of your pretty little teeth out with one fist, then we'd see who's frightened of who."
"Yes," she agreed. "You could. But could you do it before my claws ripped you to shreds first?" It was only then that she allowed the sharp edge of her knife to press lightly against the skin on his throat, and Gendry bowed out with a laugh, his eyes sparkling with happiness as she sheathed her knife as quickly and silently as she had drawn it.
"And what sharp claws they are," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Arya smiled back. "All the better to cut you with," she whispered, as he pressed his lips to hers.
When Arya had imagined Storms End she had always pictured an imposing fortress, dark and menacing, dug deep into the rock upon which it stood. She had pictured the battlements to be as tall as the Wall itself, built with cruel looking arrow slits and murder holes at the gate. She had pictured jagged spikes filling an empty moat, and huge crossbows built at the parapets, ready to befall any unwelcome guests.
So it was much to her surprise to find the castle very different to her expectations. The first thing of notice was that the castle was not built on the mainland, but rather an outcrop of jagged rock, built into the cliffs face itself. To reach it, one did not have to cross a moat but a sort of bridge, larger even than the Titan of Braavos. The walls were a light, almost sandy colour, bleached by the sun, and rather than one large wall surrounding a castle, the entire fortress seemed to be built in layers, growing higher and higher until they reached the main castle, a round structure built high and strong, with a wide base surrounding what Arya could only describe as an enormous tower, certainly larger than any at Winterfell, or indeed any other castle she had ever been to, made to withstand the hard storms that blew in from the Narrow Sea.
Arya had been expecting ugly, hard and rough. Instead, she was met with beauty, strength and detail.
Gendry had been watching her as she took it in as they drew closer to the bridge, smiling as she took it in. "Do you like it?" He asked, pulling Rogue to a halt ahead of the remaining company, to take in his home properly.
"I do," Arya answered, surprise colouring her voice, something which Gendry did not often hear from her. "It certainly isn't what I had expected. I've never seen anything like it."
Gendry laughed. "Surely that's a lie?" He voice light hearted and warm. "You, who have travelled across all of the known world?"
Arya elbowed him, smiling as she did. "I'd hardly say I've travelled the known world, but yes," she agreed. "I thought that the Titan of Braavos was huge. I thought that I had seen all possible works in Vaes Dothrak, with their collection of stolen architecture from across Essos. I thought I had seen everything I possibly could, but this... this is entirely unique."
Gendry smiled, pride for his home evident in his face and demeanure. "What were you expecting?" He asked curiously.
Arya shrugged, and then shot him a wicked little smirk. "Big and ugly and imposing, I suppose. Rather like it's lord."
Gendry narrowed his eyes at the slight, though a big grin spread its way across his face. He poked her ribs. "And now you can see that it's every bit as beautiful, deadly and strong as it's lady?" He asked, knowing that it would barb her more than any insult could.
Arya scoffed. "Careful, else I'll re-acquaint you with my steel. I think you'll find it's kiss rather unpleasant."
Gendry smiled and tugged her closer against his chest as he urged Rogue on. "If it's anything like it's mistress, then I doubt that very much," he answered, his laugh deep and husky. Arya made no reply, but elbowed him sharply in the ribs again, this time catching him before he could tense up, leaving him groaning in the saddle.
Arya watched avidly as they crossed the stone bridge, longing to jump out of the saddle so that she could run to the edge and look down, to see how high up they were. The structure truly was an impressive feat, and she recalled the stories of how it had taken several attempts to build the castle strong enough to withstand the storms, and she wasn't surprised. She felt as though she were suspended as high as the Eyrie, high atop the vale, but instead of rock and mountain beneath her it was the black, menacing sea, ready to swallow up anyone unfortunate enough to fall.
As she appreciated the structure, Arya could also understand how it would be difficult for any army to attack. Anyone who wanted to do so would have to march their army up the bridge first, under the fire of archers and siege weapons, and though the bridge was enormous it wasn't wide enough for more than ten horses abreast, certainly not enough to carry a ram, a necessary weapon to have any hope of knocking down the enormous gates that one needed to pass in order to get into the castle, where one was met with the huge portcullis, hung between two towers built so far into the rock that Arya couldn't see their bottoms.
As they reached the midpoint of the bridge- Arya was sure she would have to find a better term for the structure, for it simply didn't seem to cover it- the enormous doors, built with heavy wood and reinforced with iron, began to open. She could hear the cogs and chains straining against their weight on the other side, and idly wondered how many men it took to turn the wheel. There were shouts from ahead, and Arya looked up, counting the gateskeep and guardsmen atop the wall.
She watched as the gates pulled to a heavy stop, and the crowd on the other side were made visible, earlier concealed by the gates. They peered out at the company, smiling and waving. Children ran, ducking and darting between legs to reach the front, while smaller ones held in their mothers arms strained to be put down. Arya felt her brow crease in confusion. Who were they? Had the small folk all gathered at Storms End to celebrate the return of their lord? She doubted it.
"The lower part of the castle is occupied by servants and visitors," Gendry explained, having seen her confusion. "At Winterfell, you had Winterstown, just outside?" She nodded. "This is the same, I guess. Traders, merchants, skilled workers, guards and servants- all live in the lower part of the fortress, while the castle itself is up the higher end."
Arya nodded vaguely as she listened, conscious suddenly of all of the eyes upon her. It was still a sensation that she did not enjoy, having spent the larger part of her life living in the shadows, invisible and undetected. She squirmed in the saddle, wishing very much that she had her own horse to ride, rather than sat in Gendry's lap the first time the people saw her. As they neared the gates Arya was able to see more of the fortress, the intricate layers and buildings, almost like a maze leading towards the castle.
"Welcome home, my Lord," said the nearest guard at the gate as they passed through. In the North the guards alternated between wearing thick leather in the summer and steel covered with leather in the winter, but here it seemed that the guards wore only thin leather vests, arms bound with simple leather strips held together with rough cloth, hair cut short or shaved almost entirely. Arya's eyes swept over their weapons, swords, dirks and spears assorted between them.
"Thank you, Raymun, I'm glad to be back," Gendry nodded. Arya smiled at the guard, who nodded at her and welcomed her politely, a far cry from the suspicious, icy stares in the North.
The diminished company made their way through the various lanes and streets, passed the buildings, high walls and towers that connected all segments of the fortress together. Truly, Arya had never seen a castle built in such a way, the structures built in accordance to the steep rise of the vast rock that was its foundation, all the way up until they reached the main keep, passing through yet another set of gates between towers set into a high wall. On the other side was a wide yard, filled with light, and Arya was interested to see the way large rocks, over ten feet tall, seemed to rise out of the ground to support the very walls.
"My Lord!" shouted a voice, the words heavy with a flea bottom accent, an accent that Arya often detected in Gendry's voice at times. "Took you long enough!" She located the source of the voice, taking in the lined face and close cut grey beard, the smile and warm eyes.
"Ser Davos," Gendry greeted warmly as he pulled up Rogue. "It's good to be back. How has the castle fared?" He asked, before swinging off. Arya prepared to jump off herself, but before she could his strong hands were at her waist as he lifted her down. When she looked up at him his eyes were not on her at all, as if he had done the action unconsciously.
"Aye, well enough, lad, well enough, though I daresay you'll find your feet soon enough," Davos answered, grasping Gendry's forearm in a display of genuine happiness to see him. His eyes turned to her and he nodded. "My lady, forgive me for I know you don't know me, but you look much like your brother," he said genially, bowing his head to her. "Though a fair shade prettier, if you don't mind me being familiar!" Gendry moved back a step, his hand on the small of her back, clearly anxious for her and his old friend to get on.
Arya laughed at the joke, understanding why she had heard such kind words about the man from her brother and the tall man beside her. "Not at all, Ser, though perhaps I ought to keep in mind how accomplished a liar you are in future!"
He hesitated slightly, chuckling, and Arya bit her tongue, realising how rude she must have come across, but before she could apologise Davos had taken her hand in his. For a second she felt a flash of hot embarrassment, thinking he would kiss her knuckles as she had seen many do before when greeting her lady mother, but instead he clasped it between his own two hands, one, she noted, missing the fingers from the first joint up.
"My lady, forgive an old man," he said warmly, his eyes bright, "though I know not where I wronged you, I hope I will have the chance to show you that my character is not so bad as I have given you the impression."
Arya blinked and then laughed, clapping her free hand over his and smiling. "Ser Davos, I understand now why I have heard such good things about you from my brother and Gendry."
He huffed a laugh and looked down, before back up at her, his ruddy cheeks pink. "Perhaps it is not me that you should call a liar then, my Lady, but your brother and betrothed!"
Though the words were meant light hearted, Arya felt the smile freeze on her face as the word was so casually brought up. Gendry's hand seemed to stiffen on the small of her back, his body feeling somehow tense beside her, but if Davos detected any discomfort he said nothing, though Arya was certain she saw his eyes flicker briefly between them. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably as she watched him step back, extending his arm to allow someone else to step forward and greet them. Arya had no trouble ruling her face, a skill she had mastered many years ago, but she couldn't help but wonder if Gendry was obvious in the tension sparked between them in that one word, and whether his expression would betray them. As he stood slightly behind her Arya could not cast a quick look at him without it being noticed, but she was sure that his jaw would be clenched, the muscle at his temple visible beneath his tanned skin, eyes slightly narrowed.
Arya cast her eyes over the new comer, immediately identifying her as Gendry's cousin by her black hair and blue eyes, just like Gendry's. She wore a very plain dress, sleeves cut around her wrists and neckline tied at the base of her throat, and her hair was arranged neatly over her face, almost obscuring one side completely.
"Shireen," Gendry greeted warmly, bowing as he turned to her. "It's so good to see you again!" He removed his hand from Arya's back momentarily to lean down and kiss his cousin's cheek, replacing it seconds later as he leaned away. Arya was surprised by the heat of his hand, though she had only lost it for the briefest of moments.
"Cousin," the girl greeted with a smile. "It does my heart well to see you again. I'm sure our Davos has told you of how greatly we have missed you?" Her voice was light and soft, as her eyes flickered to Arya.
Gendry noticed and quickly amended the situation. "Shireen, this is Arya Stark, Arya- my cousin, Shireen."
Arya smiled, uncertain what to say, though she grasped Shireen's in hers as greeting. "Shireen," she said, "it's good to meet you." She squeezed her hand tightly before letting go.
"And you, of course," Shireen smiled shyly. "Though I must admit that I feel I already know you, for Gendry has told me so much about you!"
Arya smirked, and turned slowly to look at Gendry, quarking an eyebrow as he swallowed, his neck red. "Has he really? I would be most interested to hear what he has been saying." As she teased him his hand slipped down imperceptibly and pinched her behind. Arya was too well practised in maintaining a face to jump, but inside her heart leapt into her throat.
Oblivious to the silent exchange between the two, Shireen nodded eagerly. "Indeed, though all nice things, I assure you!"
Arya laughed suddenly. "It seems that Ser Davos is not the only liar I need to watch out for!" She teased, though Shireen looked stricken. Arya quickly amended her statement. "That is, when Gendry knew me last I was a scruffy little urchin who kept trying to beat him up with sticks. I don't recall a single thing that he could tell you where I could have come across nice! I think he called me a pain in his neck more times than not." She reached behind her with her hand and found his, moving it back to the small of her back. His grabbed hers tightly in response, holding it, leaving her stood awkwardly with one hand bent behind her.
He smirked and looked down at her. "Who's to say you aren't still a scruffy little urchin?" He teased. "And besides, I believe I called you a pain in my arse, a statement which still stands seeing as despite our years apart you still seem insistent on trying to beat me up!" She squirmed her hand free and delivered a nasty pinch to the flesh below his thumb, a spot that she had been trained to target.
"Try to?" she teased back. "You're just embarrassed because you never win." She looked back to Shireen, who had watched their interaction with a small smile, albeit with shock colouring her cheeks. "Besides, how can I be the one at fault? I was but a little girl, defending myself against this big brute!"
Gendry threw back his head in laughter at the statement, and Arya narrowed her eyes at him. When he was finished, he looked down at her and took her hand in his, tugging her closer. "Admit it- you were a little terror, and you still are," he teased, catching her fist as it flew towards his shoulder. "But seeing as that's one of the things I love about you, I suppose I can't very well complain."
Arya coloured at his words, unable to halt the blush as he leaned down and kissed her hair, very much aware of their audience, and the meaning behind his words.
She was saved from making a reply for Shireen spoke up that moment, a small smile on her face as she watched the two. "Lady Arya, I'm sure that you should like to rest after your long journey south. Rooms have been made ready for you in the Keep, if you would like me to show you the way?"
Arya almost refused, more interested in a tour of the castle, a chance to explore the unique fortress and find out where the best escape places were, hidden nooks and crannies, places to be aware of, but for all that she wanted to deny that she was tired the idea of a warm bath was not one that she could get out of her head easily, and so she found herself following Gendry's cousin through the castle, taking in the vast rooms and hallways, the various assortment of chambers, halls and balconies.
As they climbed a tall set of stairs Shireen explained her choice of Arya's rooms. "I have heard that you like your space, my Lady, so I thought you would enjoy a chamber towards the top of the tower, where it is quieter," she said, turning around as she walked, her skirts lifted in one hand displaying her sensible shoes. "I know that couples are not supposed to be roomed together, for matters of propriety, though your chambers are not so far from the Lords chambers. Of course, if you wish, we can move you closer to the lords?"
Arya remembered how her parents had often shared a room, though she recalled that her mother had had separate chambers to her fathers. "No, do not trouble yourself on my account, Shireen," she protested, following the other girl down a corridor. "Any bed will do, be it in the lords room himself or on the kitchen floor!"
Though she had meant it as a joke she watched as Shireen's cheeks coloured, as she turned to regard her with shock. "My Lady, you would share a bed with your betrothed?" Scandal coloured her voice, and Arya groaned inwardly. That was not what she had meant at all.
"I apologise, Shireen, I did not mean it that way," she replied, her cheeks pink at the thought of- of sharing a bed with Gendry. She scolded herself. The very notion was ridiculous. However, as she tried to tell herself that, she couldn't help but think that it really wasn't all that strange. After all, he cared for her, and she for him. Until Shireen had reacted to her words, Arya had forgotten just for a moment the stiff rules of Westeros that she had been away from for so very long. In Braavos, the relations between a man and a woman were not seen as a shameful thing, be it between a whore and a sailor, a man and a wife or a wealthy patron and his paramour- the matter was seen as one of life, something to be enjoyed and shared. Beyond the Wall the Free Folk were even more liberal in their affections. In Essos it was, again, just something to be enjoyed by all- particularly among the Dothraki.
However she was not in Braavos, or the North, or Essos, and Shireen had never been exposed to the things she had. In Westeros it was common for a man to visit the whore house, or perhaps take a lover, but the carnal nature of men and women was something seen as to be kept discreet and private. Arya wondered what Gendry thought of such things. She didn't doubt that he had a deal more experience than she, though if she cast her mind back to when they had been younger, Gendry had been uncomfortable when whores made advances on him, and would instead sit stiff and silent at the back of whatever ale house the Brotherhood wound up at.
Would he think that men and women should only have relations within marriage? Or did he think that it was something that any lover should be able to share, married or not? Arya wrinkled up her nose, but before she could ponder the matter any further Shireen had stopped at a door, which resided atop a short flight of steps.
"I hope that you find your rooms to be comfortable, Lady Arya," Shireen said. "Maids will be along shortly to help you bath- if you need anything please let me know; I shall be most happy to assist."
"Thank you," Arya said, "I appreciate it very much, Shireen, and please- call me Arya. I'm no lady."
"Of course," Shireen smiled. "Arya, then. I will leave you to your rest."
So, that's another chapter, I hope you enjoyed it! If you, leave a review... please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?