Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.
Arya I
At first glance, the approach to the castle of Storm's End was quite an impressive sight Arya decided, which is surprising because it only has one tower. However the colossal drum tower was so large, she had been told, that it could fit the granary, barracks, armoury, feast hall, and the Lords chambers all at once. At the top of the tower were the enormous battlements, which from a distance, made it look like a huge, fist thrusting up towards the sky. Surrounding the tower a massive outer curtain wall, made of pale grey stone said to be a hundred feet high and nearly eighty feet thick on its seaward side, where there is a drop of one hundred fifty foot down to the stormy waters below. Arya had heard tales that magic is woven into the stonework of Storm's End, protecting it from being captured by the sea, which stands upon Durran's Point on the coast of Shipbreaker Bay. Those waters were not called Shipbreaker for nothing, it turned out there is no safe place to anchor by the castle although there is a small watery passage through a cavern that leads underneath, which was where Ser Davos had managed to smuggle onions to Stannis Baratheon during the siege of Storm's End, or so Ser Davos had told her as he rowed her towards the said passage.
Ser Davos had been waiting for her in Tarth where she had finally ended her quest for her brother King Bran. Arya and her brother had kept in touch for the entire time she was in Essos. He had sent her on a secret mission, to which now she was returning with what answers she could. Arya had sailed from Pentos to Tarth on a ship called the Broken Sealegs. Arya was then to be taken to the tiny cavern via a rowing boat by the one man who could be trusted to and knew how to get her there safely, Ser Davos Seaworth, Master of Ships. Ser Davos had once been a great smuggler, but now he was getting old albeit very wiser with age. Most listened to his council, because although his manner of speaking and withered experience could fool a person into thinking he wasn't the brightest of men, a single conversation could tell you he was one of the few who operated on common sense and logic. He didn't seem to get flustered and had a calming nature about him. It had been no wonder so many Kings had come to trust him, he was a great asset to them.
The journey from Evenfall Hall in Tarth to Storms End in good weather would take around eight hours of rowing. Arya had offered to help Ser Davos, but he kept refusing, much to her annoyance.
"It's not that yer the Princess an all..." Ser Davos started.
"I'm not a Princess!" Arya growled back.
"Well, yer brother is a King and yer sister is a Queen, in my books that makes you a Princess." Ser Davos disagreed.
"Well...even if I am, you don't have to call me Princess, just call me Arya. And when are you going to let me row?" she complained.
"Never!" Ser Davos shook his head. "These waters are treacherous, even in what looks like calm waters like this. I'm not 'avin me boat ruined because you made a mistake rowin. I'd prefer a bad back first."
Arya scowled. "Fine, have it your way." she folded her arms and huffed, not knowing what to say, although Ser Davos was ready to fill her in on all of the gossip.
"Drogon has left Dragonstone." he told her.
Arya's eyes widened. "Does that mean we can go to the island and see if there are more dragon eggs?" she asked.
Ser Davos shook his head. "He might still come back."
"Where did he go?" Arya asked, just to keep the conversation polite.
"He flew north. I saw him leave with me own eyes. A couple of days later we had a report from a Braavosi ship who had been crossing the narrow sea that they saw him still flying north." Ser Davos told her.
Arya's stomach dropped. "He's going to Jon isn't he?" she whispered.
Ser Davos nodded. "Aye, I think he is."
"Do you think he'll kill him? I mean Drogon killing Jon?" Arya frowned, knowing Ser Davos could only offer an opinion, although his was usually wise and she wanted his answer to give her hope.
"Now, I don't know much about dragons, I'm a sea-farin' man meself. But if I were Drogon, I'd be both very angry with Jon and be a little bit lonely at the same time. I believe your brother says the same thing. Now I'm not a learned man, but I think he might want some company and Jon is the only one with dragon blood who can offer it to him." Ser Davos shrugged.
"Gendry has dragon blood." Arya corrected him. "His great grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen, daughter of Aegon V."
"That he does, aye. I remember Stannis tellin me his grandmother was a Targaryen." Ser Davos nodded, beads of sweat beginning to appear on his brow from rowing and talking. "But Jon is half Targaryen, if I were Drogon and wanted dragon blood, he's who I'd be headin' for."
"I'd be heading for Valyria." Arya shrugged. "People don't go there, there might be more dragons." she suggested.
"Well if you ask me, that's somethin' we don't want, more dragons." he huffed.
"Will you let me row?" Arya asked. "You're not a young man. I don't want you dying on me because you are too stubborn to let a girl do it."
Ser Davos sighed and put the oars down. "I'll give you half an hour to let me get me breath back. Then I'll take over again. Deal?" he asked.
Arya smiled smugly. "Thank you." she said as they carefully manoeuvred their way to change places, allowing Arya to row for a while.
At first the rowing felt easy, but it didn't take long for it to begin to hurt her small arms. Despite her being strong enough to take on much bigger fighters than herself, she couldn't get away from the fact she was still short and skinny, which wasn't exactly the right recipe for making a good rower. By the time Arya had finished her stint rowing, she was exhausted, sweaty and had blisters on the palms of her hands. However, they were over halfway to Storms End, and should the weather hold out, they'd be there in time for supper.
"Did you find anythin out about the dagger?" Ser Davos asked, much to Arya's shock. She was surprised Bran had told anyone else about her mission. "Don't worry, only the small council knew about what you were up to in Essos."
"Apparently there is some secret magical instructions in the dagger. I was carved in the old Valyrian method." Arya told him.
"What does it say?" he asked.
Arya shrugged. "I asked a red woman and although she could speak High Valyrian, she couldn't see the words. The magic is sealed and can only be read by those with Valyrian blood running through their veins."
"Gendry you mean?" Ser Davos asked, but Arya shook her head.
"He can't read properly, unless that has changed since I was last here. But she says there is more to it than just having the blood of old Valyria. The dagger has to be in the hands of the rightful owner." Arya explained.
"And who might that be?" Ser Davos raised an eyebrow with a look of expectation.
"Jon and Gendry are the only ones with the blood of Old Valyria that we know about. There are probably Targaryens who are descendants of bastards, but we'd never be able to find them now. They could be anywhere." she shrugged. "But I'm not even sure it matters what is written on the dagger now, the Night King is dead, it has fulfilled its purpose." she shrugged. "Water?" Arya took her flask from her hip and offered it to Ser Davos.
"No thanks." Ser Davos shook his head. "I'm saving meself for a glass of ale at Storm's End." he smiled as they rowed on in silence for a little while longer.
"Do you think Drogon and Jon will go back to Dragonstone?" Arya asked excitedly. "I might be able to see him again."
"I should hope not." Ser Davos sighed. "It's best if they fly as far away from Westeros as possible."
"The Unsullied." Arya sighed as Ser Davos nodded. "I can take Greyworm on."
"But you can't take on the whole army. If Jon goes to Dragonstone, believe you me, the whole of Westeros will be going to war." Ser Davos said sadly.
"Jon won't allow it, neither will Bran." Arya insisted.
"Well I can't speak for the both of them, but I hope yer right." he smiled looking up at the looming white cliffs stretching up to the castle. "Right, we're going to need to be careful, this is the tricky bit." Ser Davos told her as they slowed right down.
The waves were far stormier than the rest of the journey. Arya supposed this was why it was called Storm's End. The wrong move and a wave could send a boat right into the rocks. An inexperienced sailor would not stand a chance, nor did she suspect more sailors who actually knew what they were doing. To make matters worse, the light had begun to fade and they were heading towards ever darkening rocks, shooting out of dark seas with dark skies about.
"Ah, it's a lovely night for it, don't you think?" Ser Davos asked as Arya looked at him in shock.
"A lovely night for what?" she asked.
"Sneaking into Castles, skulkin' around, reminds me of my youth." he sighed wistfully. "At least the sea is bein' kind to us."
"This is kind?" Arya asked.
"Oh yes." Ser Davos nodded. "You should've seen the waves when I was smugglin' onions into the castle durin' the rebellion." he smiled as an even darker area in the rocks appeared. "Ah, here we are, just like I remembered." he started to manoeuvre the oars in a way to allow them to creep into the darkness.
"We don't have a torch." Arya whispered.
"Why are you whisperin'" Ser Davos asked. "We can make as much noise as we want." he said as Arya heard a sudden scraping noise.
"What's that?" she asked, not one normally for being scared, but she couldn't see anything and all she could sense was the bobbing of the boat.
"It's the oar scraping along the walls you can hear. I'm feelin' me way through the cave." Ser Davos told her. "Just don't wriggle around too much, around this corner here, there should be a torch and flint." he grunted, sounding like he was fumbling. Arya sat as still as she could while the little rowing boat moved around uncomfortably. Arya didn't mind the God of Death being an unseen person, but you can't kill a cave to save yourself. "Got it!" Ser Davos suddenly cried out as she heard him striking the flint repeatedly.
"Wont it be wet?" she asked.
"Not where it's been hidin'." Ser Davos replied when she suddenly saw a spark and a torch lighting up the entire cave. "Here." Ser Davos handed her the torch, "You wanted to do something useful? You carry that and I'll row."
Arya watched carefully what Ser Davos was doing. He was alternating between rowing, using the oars against the walls and checking out what was below them in the water. "Why are you checking the water?" she asked.
"It'll suddenly get more shallow, that means were getting closer to the entrance. You look up and you'll see the murder holes above." Arya did as he said and saw holes above them, although they seemed to just run into more darkness. "We should be nearing the entrance anytime soon." he said as she heard a deadened clunking sound. His face suddenly lit up. "Nearly there."
In the distance Arya could hear the noise of what she suspected was armour, lights were flickering and voices talking in hushed tones. "I wonder why they're whispering?" she whispered to Ser Davos as they slowly reached the four armoured men dressed in Baratheon colours.
As the boat stopped, an enormous sound of metal scraping against rock and hitting water made her jump. She turned to see where the noise came from, only to see a portcullis drop behind her, sending a spray of water into the air and all over Arya, soaking her to the skin. She turned back to the men, one of who appeared to be responsible for dropping it.
All four of the men drew their swords. "Who goes there?" one of them asked.
"If you don't mind, I'm Ser Davos Seaworth, Master of Ships to King Bran, I believe Lord Baratheon is expecting me."
"And who is that with you?" the armoured man asked him.
"That is Princess Arya, again Lord Baratheon is expecting her. If you don't mind yer manners, I'd put away yer swords, do the right thing and bow to her." Ser Davos said firmly as Arya glared at him in embarrassment.
The men quickly put their swords back in their sheaths. "Sorry my Princess." he man said, whom Arya suspected was the captain of the guards. "We would be honoured to escort you to Lord Baratheon, although he might not be ready to receive you right at this moment."
"Don't worry, I'll wait." Arya grimaced, looking towards Ser Davos, still angry about him announcing her as a Princess.
The guard offered his hands to help Arya from the boat, an act of chivalry no doubt, but simultaneously, Arya not only didn't need any help but knew she could kill him at a stroke while he was offering his help. Once they'd both alighted from the boat, they followed the guards up some steps towards the castle itself.
"Why did you have to remind them that I was related to the King?" Arya whispered into Ser Davos ear.
"Because they are expecting us and if I'd have introduced you any other way, they'd have been suspicious. Like it or not, in Westeros yer known as Princess Arya and people will bow and curtsey to you." he warned.
"Ugh!" Arya shivered despite being warm. "I want to go back to Essos, or maybe north of the wall, the wildlings don't kneel." she shrugged.
"If yer cousin..." Ser Davos started.
"Brother!" Arya corrected.
"Brother then." Ser Davos continued. "If yer brother is still alive and north of the wall, I've no doubt he's King there as well. Although I'd expect them to respect yer wishes not to be called Princess there than you'll get here. However there's a good chance yer brother might be a bit closer to home soon, so I wouldn't bother travellin' all that way when it might be for nought."
Arya simply nodded in response knowing Ser Davos was right. There was no way around being called Princess here in the south, her only options were to team up with Jon and see what happened or to go back to Essos, which sounded far more tempting because back there she'd been no-one and free from any constraints. In Westeros there were expectations, and she knew despite Bran's promises, marriage would soon be required of her. Her brother needed an heir and it was unclear whether he could provide one, her sister also needed an heir as there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, which made matters a little more complicated. Sansa would have plenty of suitors, but not many would be happy to give up their family name. Both lines of succession were far from simple. To make matters worse, Bran could have resolved this by naming Jon as a Stark and allow his children to become heirs, but he didn't, he allowed the bastard name of Jon Snow or his real name, Aegon Targaryen to hand around his neck like a sack of lead weights. The succession conversation with Bran was going to have to take place soon, because without it, the realm would be plunged into chaos.
After walking down a series of corridors, Arya and Ser Davos were lead into a huge Great Hall. Despite its size, it was like most castles, dark and gloomy. The walls were of thick grey stone, a fireplace burned to one side and in the most prominent position opposite the main entrance was a huge stone throne. Arya tried to imagine Gendry sat on it and suddenly burst into fits of giggles.
"Arya?" a familiar voice called her name from behind. Arya turned around to see Gendry in a dirty apron, his skin dark from working the kiln.
"Gendry!" Arya cried out and rushed over to hug him. "You look..." she pulled back from the hug and frowned. "You look exactly the same. Are you sure you're a Lord?" she laughed.
"You can take the smith out of the armoury but you can't take the armouring away from the smith." he said proudly.
Arya frowned. "That's a bit profound from you. Who told you that one?"
Gendry shrugged. "Maester Oswold." he smirked.
"Ahem." Ser Davos coughed.
"Oh, my Lord Seaworth." Gendry bowed.
Davos frowned. "Yer not quite getting the hang of this Lord thing eh lad?"
Gendry blushed and shook his head. "I keep forgetting manners and stuff. Making armour is far easier." he shrugged. "On the other hand, I can tell people what I want and they get it." he grinned. "I suppose you've been rowing for a long time."
"A fair bit." Davos agreed.
"Are you hungry?" Gendry looked between Arya and Davos, who both nodded.
"Starving!" Arya confirmed with a grin.
"Good, so am I. That door over there." Gendry pointed towards another door behind the throne, which was almost hidden.
The room behind the door was far smaller. It was still gloomy with dank stone walls. In the centre was a large wooden rectangular table surrounded by eight high-backed wooden chairs. The table was already full of fruits, ready to nibble on while waiting for the main meal to arrive. Over to one side of the room was a bowl a cloth and what looked like a clean folded tunic. Gendry walked over to the bowl, removed his apron, allowing Arya to observe the rippling muscles on his body, bringing back memories of activities she wished to engage with during her stay with Gendry if he wanted it. Gendry washed his hands, body and face, dried and placed the tunic over his head, turning him from the filthy smith into a slightly more lordly looking man, but only just.
As soon as they all sat down with Gendry at the head of the table, Ser Davos to his left and Arya to his right, he turned to the Master of Ships. "I hear Drogon has left Dragonstone."
"Clearly word gets around quickly." Davos nodded. "How did you know?" he asked.
"Maester Tarly is on his way with Lord Bronn of the Reach." Gendry replied to which Arya and Davos exchanged worried glances. "I think he wants to Tarly or something." he frowned.
"Parley." Arya corrected him.
"Bran must be expecting war." Davos shook his head. "Greyworm has his spies all along the narrow sea and up towards the north."
"Why?" Gendry asked.
"He wants Jon dead for killing the Dragon Queen." Arya replied then looking towards Ser Davos. "He's been watching for Jon to leave?"
Davos nodded. "Aye. Not sure if he expected the dragon to go look for him first though. I suspect they'll wait to see if he comes back with or without a rider. If Jon comes back with him..." he tailed off as the servants came in to serve their dinner. Once they'd left, the conversation continued. I suspect Maester Tarly is going to ask for yer support."
"To fight the Unsullied?" Arya frowned.
"Maybe, maybe not." Davos shrugged. "Jon is as much of a threat to the stability of Westeros as the Unsullied. Dragons can do a lot of damage in the wrong hands."
Arya's jaw dropped. "He wouldn't go after Jon, they're brothers."
Davos shook his head. "Not in the eyes of the King." he pursed his lips together, clearly wanted to say something else but not knowing whether he should or not.
"He wouldn't let anyone hurt Jon." Arya shook her head in disbelief.
Ser Davos sighed. "The King has to put the realm first above brotherly love. He has a choice, support Jon and fight the Unsullied or keep to his word and try to stop Jon coming to Westeros, or at least force him to leave?"
"And go where?" Arya asked, growing angry.
"I dunno. North, east. Anywhere but Dragonstone or Westeros itself. I'm sure he'll try talkin' some sense into yer brother." he assured her.
"He'd better." Arya stated. "I'm not fighting Jon. Especially if he's got a dragon." she added in a small voice.
"We'll see." Davos shrugged as they settled down to eat. To take her mind from the impending gloom of war, Arya decided to focus her mind on more interesting ideas.
"So erm...Gendry. Are you married or betrothed yet?" she asked.
Gendry shook his head. "I've had lots of offers, but I need to learn how to be a Lord before I can marry a Lady." he shrugged.
"Good." Arya smiled, her evening had suddenly picked up. The prospects of all sorts of things involving Gendry ran through her mind as she stared at him. Gendry stared back and blushed, clearly understanding where her thought process was going.
Ser Davos coughed. "Well, I've got to leave early on the morrow, I'm needed back up at Dragonstone to see if Drogon returns. So if yer both don't mind me, I'll go get meself some shuteye."
Gendry nodded. "Martha." he called out and a maid quickly ran into the room. "Can you show Lord Seaworth to his chambers." he asked.
"Yes M'Lord." the portly young woman with a red face nodded her head and looked towards Ser Davos. "With me." she offered, and with that they left the hall.
Gendry looked at Arya and smirked. "Here or my chambers?" he asked as Arya raised an eyebrow before eyeing up the table.
"Are your chambers near the top?" she asked and he nodded. "Hmm, I can't wait that fucking long." she grinned before pulling Gendry into her, ready for a kiss. "I say we start here before continuing the night in a bed."
"Anything my Lady." Gendry whispered.
"Princess." Arya corrected him, with that their lips met, their evening fun was only just beginning.
If you like this story, please like, follow and/or review. It helps motivate me to get the chapters written and published quicker.
Mandzipop.
