Chapter 19:
Arya slipped back into the dimly lit chambers, dozens of candles and fireplaces granting a warm glow upon boisterous victors, who had grown even louder and drunker since she'd left, it appeared. She remained in the shadows as she scanned the room, idling deciding which direction would grant her the most bearable circumstances to pass the next hour or so before she could duck out in truth without her presence being missed.
She spotted her second eldest brother sitting at a table off to the side with several of his wildlings seated with him- the familiar blond one telling a loud rendition of her brothers' heroics in battle. She glanced past the man to see the dragon queen looking cold, sat alone at the head table, two of her men standing faithfully at her back, despite the festive nature, but no others nearby or seeking her attention.
She looked like a woman scorned, at least until Jon glanced over his shoulder at her, looking almost sheepish and apologetic. Arya watched as her expression smoothed and softened, and the woman lifted her glass to silently toast the man from across the room. She watched as that dark head turned back to his men and the softness disappeared beneath blank stoniness once again.
The white haired woman seemed thoughtful as her unique purple gaze took in the different groups spread throughout the room- Wildlings, Northerners, and Southern all interacting peacefully in what was likely the first example of such unification of the entirety of Westeros since the wall had been built and the land all fell under one rule.
Her own more exotic soldiers were spread through the room in their own mode of celebration, though largely in keeping with their own people and one of the groups much more reserved than the other, as seemed to be their nature.
Arya had tried to pull an Unsullied into conversation more than once, but only ever gained a blank gaze in return for her efforts. Those efforts had been made out of an idle curiosity more than anything, for she'd only ever seen the world-renown soldiers from afar before when she'd been on an educational exploration with Jaqen the second year of her training, and the very idea of them gave her a twisted sense of fascination she wanted to explore.
If she hadn't been given their Queen's name, she may have been more persistent in her efforts, but she didn't want to make herself particularly memorable to her most dangerous guards. Instead she ignored the urge to approach the one stationed closest to her and instead moved across the room and towards her brother without ever giving away where her attention had been.
She dropped into the empty seat beside him and he gave her a welcoming grin as his blond wildling began rambling anew, though this time over her own attributes and fierceness rather than her brothers'. She leaned closer to Jon and asked quietly, "How does everyone seem to know what happened?"
"A group of men were passing by the Godswood on their way to the rear gate, saw everything. News spread before we knew to stop it." He sounded apologetic, understanding- mayhap the only one to understand- her desire to remain anonymous. She hadn't voiced a word of complaint for her newfound fame since leaving her room a scant couple of hours before, but Jon knew her well enough to know she would be uncomfortable with the scrutiny and attention.
She shrugged off his words, appearing uncaring even as she could feel the eyes steadily upon her. She leaned back on her seat as the blond finally finished his drunken song and reclaimed his own seat across the table, large drinking horn clutched in his massive palm. The others surrounding them who could hear broke into applause and Arya had to physically stop herself from twitching as the sudden and encompassing burst of sound and the further swell of attention it brought from the room at large.
Jon pushed a glass of wine over to her and she accepted it gratefully, suddenly much more willing to part with a piece of her senses now that her primary task for the eve was done. She wouldn't allow herself to become too far gone, but there was no harm in allowing one night to celebrate their survival. She lifted the glass in silent thanks before taking a large swallow.
Unlike the Unsullied, the Wildlings were more than happy to exchange words and stories with her, which allowed her a great insight into their culture and social structure- even more so when a group of three women joined them, personalities just as rough and uncouth as the men. Jon seemed unphased by the behavior, clearly used to it, as were the couple of Men from the Nights Watch who sat further down.
It was sometime later that Jon leaned closer to her, getting her attention. "I don't think your Mother approves of you sitting here." He told her softly and she glanced across the room to see her mothers glacial blue eyes locked upon them and the company surrounding them.
"My Mothers' approval matters little to me." She told him dismissively, glancing away from the woman.
He shot her a look of his own, brow raised. "And here I thought you were getting on better today?"
"We are, I suppose. That does not mean I'll allow her opinions to dictate my actions."
"Hells, Arya. You make me almost feel bad for the woman."
"I make you feel bad for her?" Arya demanded, offence breaking through her controlled countenance. "She's awful to you- even now, even after everything. Why would you feel bad for her?"
He signed and looked as if he regretted speaking but was too stubborn to back down now that he'd started. "The Lady Catelyn has never made her feels on me secret, Arya. I wasn't her child- I was a bastard her husband brought home from a war, soon after they were married. But you? Sansa? Bran and Rickon? You all were her babies. No one could doubt her love for her children. You may have been a brat when you were a child, but you were still her child, are still her child. You've grown up, but you're still as difficult as you were when you were a child- more so, even, and yet that woman still loves you as much now as she did then. She's your Mother, Arya. It's her job to worry for you, to want to give you the best future she can- even if her opinion and your own may not agree on what that future looks like."
Arya stared at him, surprised and a bit taken aback at the unexpected scolding. "Where's this coming from?" She asked rather than getting worked up, knowing there had to be more to his musings than simple sympathy for the woman who had made his childhood a nightmare.
Her brother glanced around the table and the tables packed closely around them, and stood rather than answering. "Dance with me?" He asked, head tilting towards the clear space where several pairs already moved in sequence to the beat of the music. She nodded her agreement, still curious, and followed his lead to a clear spot of the floor. He lead her into the rhythm flawlessly, for Ned had always included him in the boys' dance lessons when he had them with Robb, and Rickon, before his accident.
"So?" She questioned, once they were several feet away from anyone else.
"So?" He repeated, lifting her in time with the other dancers. She peered up at identical grey eyes with a deadpanned expression and he gave into he without much resistance. "So, nothing really. I've been thinking a bit about children, about mothers and fathers."
"Why would you be thinking about such things? Aren't men of the Night's Watch forbidden from such?"
"The Night's Watch is no more… There is no wall, no need to guard it or fend off the Wildlings.. Robb has offered me a spot on his council, should I desire. He's offered to make me a Stark in name again- to grant me my own keep." He confided quietly. "I said no before, because of my vows, but now.."
"Is that something you want? A Lordship? Marriage? Children?" Arya questioned, just as quietly.
"I'm not really sure. Never allowed myself to want it before, not really."
"Yeah." She mussed softly. The next several steps put distance between them, but their conversation continued once they came together again.
"What about you?" Jon asked. "It seems you'll be married soon as well. How are you feeling about that?"
"Not really thinking about it, to be honest." She confided in him in turn.
"I've had a couple of men approach me about your availability. I know Robbs had the same. Probably more than me, even."
"Did it pain you both to have to direct them to Lord Tywin?" She questioned, amused.
"More than you can ever know." He joked in turn. "In all seriousness, though-" He said as the music began to slow, signaling the end of the song. "You're going to be okay, right?"
"'Course. You?"
"Course."
Her brother left her side after the song finished and she moved quickly over to the side where wine stood waiting as she saw a Lord start to turn towards her unaccompanied presence. Her eyes scanned the room despite her desire to flee and she instead moved towards a wide beam that would shield her rom most of the room.
It was such a good shield, in fact, that she couldn't see the man already taking refuge behind it until she'd practically collided with him. She stopped on her heal but still rocked forward slightly as she attempted to halt herself so suddenly.
"-Hi.." Jaime drawled from where he leaned casually against the strong stone, remanence of how he used to look when he would guard Robert and then Joffrey back in her youth while they were all still at Kings Landing.
"Hi." She responded, deciding she would rather finish her stride and be out of sight, than to have anyone else could try to drag her into a dance.
He looked down at her oddly, furrowing a brow. "What have you been up to?" He asked as he pushed himself slightly more upright.
"What do you mean?" She questioned back on reflex, wondering at what he saw in her to ask that question.
"I don't know, you seem more.. happy? No, that's not it. Light? What happened?"
"Nothing." She denied, reaching for one of the glass to get herself a drink as she'd planned. "Just enjoying victory- aren't you?"
"Are you? Enjoying victory, that is. You seem the kind of woman to enjoy the fight more than the peace."
"Is that the pot calling the kettle black?" She asked sardonically, tilting her head to conceal her amusement. As… odd, as things had become between them in recent days, it was still so easy to talk to him, joke with him, let herself relax with him despite her tensions.
"Nah, I'm hardly a woman." He told her, deadpanned, and a true laugh escaped her.
"No, I suppose that's one thing your definitely not."
His gaze remained on her but he looked more serious as he took her in. "I wanted to know how you are? Were you hurt at all during the battle?" He questioned lowly.
Her head tiled. "No, I wasn't hurt. Not more than a couple of bumps and bruises. I expect you knew that already."
"Wanted to be sure. You seemed.. I didn't want to hurt you, especially if you were already hurt."
"Ah," She told him, suddenly understanding what he thought had happened. Or perhaps, what he told himself had happened. "I didn't pull away from you because you pressed on a physical hurt, Jaime. Do not worry."
It was his turn to furrow his brows and he pushed himself fully to stand upright. "Why then did you pull away?" He questioned.
"I told you, I had something pressing to attend to. If you truly wanted to ask after my wellbeing, why did you not do so before pressing me to the stone?" She challenged in return, bold.
He faltered. "Arya, I-"
"You?"
"I'm sorry, I-"
"You're sorry for what?"
"Would you allow me to finish a sentence?"
Arya clenched her teeth together, unsure why he was able to cause her emotions to rise so suddenly and without notice. She'd just been thinking about how easy it was to talk to him and now she wanted nothing more than to smack him with the blunt edge of her blade. "Please." She told him tightly when he seemed to purposefully wait for her acknowledgement before he would continue.
"Very appreciated." He told her, just bordering on sarcasm. "Now, I would like to know what caused you to go from us lying together before the battle, to me having to struggle for even a moment of your time and attention. Was I so terrible a bed partner?"
"Mayhap not 'terrible.'" She allowed. "But also not necessarily worth a repeat performance, nor my continued attention. You made it rather clear you had no desire for me before the Gods, though it seems I will be there soon enough regardless. I've already 'shamed' myself by lying with you once as an unmarried woman, why should I do so again?" She challenged, not meaning the words she was saying but rather wondering at how he would respond to them. Part of her felt a bit bad at playing him so easily, but she was on unfamiliar ground with him and needed to win back some form of control- if that control was gained through manipulating him until she had enough information to trust him again in some capacity, well.. What did one expect from a Faceless Man?
"Did you feel shamed?" He pressed in turn, stepping closer to her and calling her on her slight bluff. She did not answer and he seemed to take her silence as permission to continue. "I admit, the state of affairs that night left our time together rather.. hurried, but you could allow me to make it up to you now that the urgency is passed?"
"And why would I want to take part in anything that requires making up afterword's?"
"This won't need making up, I assure you."
She was almost tempted to give into him, but then she remembered his refusal of her and her slight arousal faded, however ridiculous it was. She knew he didn't have any obligation to her, that he'd sworn himself to the Kingsguard and that she had no right to demand anything from him that he wasn't willing to give, but she still felt slighted, felt slightly ashamed and almost unworthy.
She'd never allow such emotions to pass beyond her conscious mind, of course, but wouldn't ignore them within herself, even if no one else would ever know of them. She still felt slighted enough that she would feel anger with herself after the fact, she knew, and that was enough to have her drain her glass and face the crowd again, rather than her own inner struggle. "No, it won't need making up. Good Night, Jaime."
A brief time passed and Arya found herself somehow dancing with an unknown man, having failed in making it clear across the room, and whose mouth seemed incapable of silence, regardless of how quickly their feet moved amongst the other pairs in the dim and somewhat crowed space. She didn't take notice at first, distracted as she was by both her thoughts and by the incessant rambling, but she took notice when an unusual hush fell over the crowd, originating at the distant head table and spreading quickly throughout the room.
Those dancing in the clear space at the back of the room came to a stop, Arya and her unnamed partner included. Arya rose slightly on booted toes to try and catch sight of what was happening past the crowd, silently cursing her still petite frame as she pulled away and began to move closer as a sentence from a familiar voice caught her ears that she never expected to hear spoken aloud.
"You're Robert Baratheon's son." It was spoken without question, confident and unwavering on the air.
She didn't see Gendry's nod, but she heard the Dragon Queen continue and could see her by the time she finished saying "You are aware he took my family's throne and tried to have me murdered."
"I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead." Gendry defended, voice wavering just slightly on the words, standing uncertainly before the dangerous woman as an uncertain, uneducated, uncultured blacksmith in a room of royalty, lords and ladies, and everyone beyond.
"Yes, he's dead. His brothers are, too." She told him coldly. Arya glanced a few seats down to see Jon looking ashen and uncertain, eyes looked upon the table as if he didn't want to witness what was going to happen, brows furrowed deeply. "So who's Lord of Storm's End now?" The foreign Queen questioned.
"I don't know, your Grace." He told her quietly after an almost ashamed pause.
"Does anyone?" She asked, pitching her voice to carry.
The silence lingered, even as she looked pointedly at the crowds. She glanced almost lazily back at him, violet eyes hooded and voice lilting with her exotic accent. "I think you should be Lord of Storms End."
The silence seemed to swell to an even greater level. Gendry finally stuttered, shaking his head at the same time, "I-I can't be, I'm a bastard."
"No." She denied firmly. "You are Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storms End, the noble son of Robert Baratheon, because that is what I have made you."
Arya remained frozen, watching in a mixture of shock and disbelief at the woman's audacity considering her position and the quite uncertain situation now that the danger that unified them had passed.
No one seemed know what to say- not even Gendry, until Tywin's voice pierced the air, acrid as she'd ever heard it and drawling in his contempt. "If only you'd the power to make such a statement in these lands."
"Beg Pardon?" She asked dangerously after a pointed pause, head tilting towards the elder man and her shoulders drawing back in an attempt to seem more powerful, despite her small stature and clear isolation amongst them the Westerosi.
His icy gaze locked upon her, voice like an ice whip and twice as unforgiving. "You may call yourself a Queen, Lady Targaryen, but here you are nothing more than a dead barbarian's wife, and a dead kings' daughter. Your father lost his crown by rite of conquest- you may not like such facts, but facts they remain."
"And who are you to speak to me in such a manner?"
"You know who I am, but I shall remind you regardless, foreigner. I am Lord Tywin Lannister, chosen Hand to the Rightful King of Westeros, Tommen Baratheon, and to his Lady Wife- the Queen Margaery Baratheon, daughter to his Lord Mace Tyrell, who is with us here tonight and whom I'm sure does not appreciate your attempts to overthrow his daughter, as I do not appreciate your attempts to overthrow. My. grandson."
She smiled- it was a slow smile, one that seemed practiced. "Attempts? Tell me Lord Tywin, if I were to go to Kings Landing, with my armies and my dragons, who do you think would stand rule when the daylight fades? Your grandson and his little wife, or myself and my dragons?"
Notes:
Next chapters going to get rough! If there's anything in particular you're hoping will happen, let me know and I may work it in! As always, thanks so much for reading and I'd love to hear what you think!