Chapter 4: Charitable Acts
Arya grumbled the whole way into Storm's End. She was already cranky about being there at all and to be forced to bathe, even if she did feel sticky and dirty, was rubbing her the wrong way. She'd been surprised by Gendry Baratheon's manner, and when he'd calmly responded to her childish insistence not to be referred to as a Lady, she'd realised she really might be in trouble here. She had every intention of letting the stupid fool know exactly what he would be in for if he went through with marrying her, and she got the feeling he was more than prepared to ride out whatever she might throw at him. She was led into the castle by Lady Baratheon alongside her mother, who was already glaring at her for her behaviour.
"During your stay you will be in this bed chamber, Lady Arya," Mina Baratheon informed her as she led Arya and her mother into the chamber. It was lavishly decorated with the Baratheon house colours, the spread on the featherbed a fine looking yellow silk. The walls were adorned with fantastic artworks of stitched wall hangings and quilts depicting the sigil of Hose Baratheon; a proud stag amid a forest clearing here, a pair of rutting stags there. Arya tried not to let anyone see her roll her eyes. What did the woman think? That being in a room decorated with the colours and sigil of House Baratheon would sway her to falling for Gendry?
"Thank you," She replied instead, noticing that the ladies maids had already drawn a warm bath for her and placed towels and soap and things by the tub.
"It's no trouble, I do hope you will enjoy your time with us here," Lady Baratheon said and Arya got the feeling the woman disapproved of her as a match for her son. "If you need anything, just call for one of the ladies maids that will be stationed outside your door to give you privacy while you bathe. My daughter's rooms are down the hall if you should require anything and cannot locate one of our household staff."
Arya nodded her thanks, not trusting herself to speak without saying something snarky that might rub the woman the wrong way even further. Not that she cared if the mother of her intended husband disapproved of her, but she didn't want to blurt out something that would embarrass her father either. She intended to come across as self-possessed and independent rather than simply appearing childish and bratty.
"Lady Stark, if you'll follow me I will show you to the chamber you and your husband shall share," Lady Baratheon said, leaving Arya in the room.
"Arya, please wear a dress to dinner," her mother asked of her with a sharp look. Arya pretended not to hear her and her mother left the room, closing the door with a snap. She breathed a sigh of relief to finally be alone.
She hadn't been expecting Gendry Baratheon to be quite so large and intimidating. He was easily a head taller than her and built like a bull. His arms bulged with powerful muscle and his chest was deep and wide. She suspected his shoulders were wider than her arm was long. He was lean, for all the muscle, unlike his father whom to Arya had appeared rather soft around the middle. His hair was dark and wavy, his jaw clean-shaven but darkened with shadow of the beard he must've removed for her arrival.
When he had met her gaze, Arya had noted that his eyes were a brilliant shade of blue. She didn't trust those eyes. He had the types of eyes Sansa would've swooned over and Arya didn't doubt that if she'd allowed herself, she'd have been able to get lost in the brilliant colour of them. She kind of hated him for being handsome and not at all the scrawny little Southern lord she'd been expecting. She also kind of hated herself for even thinking the word handsome. She'd intended to insist upon a duel if he wanted to marry her, but Arya suddenly understood what the other soldiers had meant when they'd said he was one of the few men likely to be able to hold her, because he was one of the few whom she would not be able to beat in a fight. Sure she'd be able to test him, but he had the raw power and brute strength allowed by his size, not to mention experience in battle. He also had a gleam of intelligence in those blue eyes of his, meaning she wouldn't simply be able to try and outwit him.
It seemed she might have to find other ways to test his mettle and to make him earn the right to marry her. Because Arya would not go quietly. As she kicked off her boots, Arya watched the way Nymeria jumped up on that pretty yellow silk bed cover and flopped down on it with a huff. The wolf wasn't appreciating the heat any more than Arya was. When she looked towards the balcony of her room, Arya felt her breath catch in her throat.
It overlooked Shipbreaker Bay and the brilliance of the storm was unfolding before her very eyes. Lightning flashed over the distant headland and with a sharp crack the skies opened up, pouring rain over the bay and the outside world. Arya found herself annoyed when she caught herself feeling grateful to be inside out of the storm. As she stripped out of her travelling clothes, Arya was grateful to be out of the fierce storm that rattled the windows. The bath water was warm when she stepped into it, but in spite of the heat Arya enjoyed the water. The maids had added some kind of sweet smelling oil to the water that made her smell like a flower and Arya scowled about it even as she scrubbed soap through her hair. She was going to have to cut it if she got stuck here in this humid place married to that stupid man. It was far too difficult to tolerate the long waves, especially since the heat kept making the ends curl.
When she was scrubbed clean, Arya laid in the bath a while longer simply enjoying the warm water on her travel weary muscles. A score of days in the saddle had been harder on her body than she'd expected. She was used to riding daily, however to ride from dawn until dusk, travelling mostly at a lope had been more physically demanding than Arya would've believed. It felt nice to stretch her legs in the warm water and to simply be naked. Arya liked being naked. Clothes were so restrictive, especially the types of clothes her mother always tried to forced her into. Heavy dresses with all those small clothes were simply too much for Arya. Give her britches and an oversized blouse any day.
That, she decided, was why she was not going to do as her mother asked and wear a dress to dinner. Choosing instead to find a clean pair of britches and a sleeveless tunic with two long slits up the sides to her hips. The britches were tan, the tunic an eye-catching shade of red. It had been a gift from Sansa on her last nameday, and while Arya had expected that any gift form her sister would be of little use to Arya, she'd found the tunic to be both pretty and functional. Even if it did plunge over her breasts to show off her modest cleavage. Arya thought it actually a rather interesting and graceful solution Sansa had designed for her. The tunic was comfortable to wear, and allowed her to avoid the dresses she so loathed, but still showed off her feminine form beneath the layers of cloth. In fact, she'd liked it so much when Sansa had given it to her, and been so pleased with it, that Sansa had gone on to make several more for her, pleased and utterly delighted by her sister's reaction.
Mother couldn't object to her wearing it either, because it had been a gift from Sansa. It showed of her fighting-toned arms, and flirted with her collarbone, before plunging at the neckline to display her cleavage. It hugged at her waist and then flared to allow for her hips, falling to mid-thigh with slits to allow for ease of movement. The finishing Sansa had added - some intricate embroidery - decorated the tunic in a way that gave it elegance whilst still maintaining the functionality that Arya so loved. She was rather pleased with it, all in all, and she had several more in many other colours that Sansa had gifted to her for when this one got dirty. Arya pulled her boots on over her feet before straightening. She ought to style her hair in some intricate Northern do that mother would be pleased over, but Arya didn't see the point in bothering. In spite of the storm raging outside the castle, the air was still humid and whatever she did with it would end up looking stupid because the ends would curl and kink in ways that didn't fit the style.
Though she didn't want to, Arya dragged a brush through the long dark waves that fell to the middle of her back, wondering how her mother would react if she cut her hair short so that it brushed her chin.
"Are you ready yet?" Arya asked her direwolf, who was lounging on the bed, stretched out on her back with her feet in the air looking very comical indeed. Nymeria groaned at her in a very wolfy way before rolling to her feet and jumping down off the bed. She trotted over to Arya and sniffed at her curiously, no doubt thanks to the floral oils that had been in her bath tub.
When she opened the door to her chamber, the pair of maids outside the door jumped in surprise and then shrieked in fear when they caught sight of Nymeria.
"A wolf!" One yelled, both of them dashing off down the hall screaming bloody murder. Arya glanced at Nymeria, who looked up at her mistress before her tongue flopped out of her mouth and a wolfish grin spread across her face.
"I love doing that," Arya told the wolf as she set off after the maids, assuming they'd gone in the direction of the Great Hall to summon men to protect the lady from a wolf. Nymeria yipped in agreement and Arya chuckled in spite of the storm and the humidity and the fact that she was far from home, meeting with some lord she didn't want to marry all because Father said she had to.
"Arya?" Father called when she came wandering into the hall, looking around at the layout and noting the difference between this castle and Winterfell.
"Yes, Father?" she asked, glancing over at him where he was seated with Robert and Gendry Baratheon. Many of the men of their guard from the road were also there, all of them sipping on wine and ale and looking to be having a jolly old time. The hysterical maids could be seen over by their lord, gesticulating wildly about a monstrous wolf that had gotten into the castle and was in Lady Stark's room. Arya curled her lip with distaste for their dramatics and for the mention of her title. Was such pathetic moaning really necessary?
"Did you set Nymeria on these ladies maids?" Father asked her, drawing her attention back to him and the other lords. Robert was eyeing her, no doubt for the cleavage she had on display, and looked highly amused. Gendry on the other hand was simply watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.
"You think me so heartless, father?" Arya asked coyly. Last moon she'd set Nymeria on her own ladies maids in Winterfell when she'd found them trying to smuggle her weapons out of her chamber on her mother's orders.
"Yes," Father replied dryly, "And don't try and tell me you would never do such a thing. We both know that you not only would, but that you have in the past and would do so again."
"I didn't even have time to realise they were still in the hall when I opened the door after my bath, Father. They screamed and ran immediately. If they don't stop all that dramatic sobbing, however, I will give them something to cry over," Arya threatened, making sure her voice carried over the sound of their sniffling, which stopped rather abruptly at her words.
"Must you threaten people everywhere you go?" Harwin asked her with a grin that he tried to hide behind his cup.
"I find it saves time," Arya replied glibly, "Not to mention that I can't then be accused of simply acting on impulse and without warning."
Robert Baratheon began to chuckle at her reply, and Arya's eyes darted to Gendry, who was still watching her. He did so in such a way and with such focus that Arya found herself feeling more the stag and he the wolf. Maybe it was the tunic...
"Does your mother know you're wearing that? She told me you'd be wearing a dress," Father asked her, eyeing her tunic with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"This is a dress," Arya replied, "A dress Sansa made for me. It would be wrong of me to spurn a gift from my sister, Father."
"I see," Ned replied as all the men at the table chuckled at her logic and her defiance of her mother, "Do you want to join us?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Arya grinned. She'd been expecting to be told she had to go and find the other women.
She practically skipped as she made her way over to the table, being sure to take a seat next to Father, rather than the vacant one next to Gendry Baratheon, which she suspected she was supposed to take. Harwin and some of the others chuckled as she shuffled her chair in beside her father, allowing the serving wenches to pour her a glass of Dornish wine. Nymeria plonked herself down beside Arya's chair and she felt the eyes of her intended husband still on her as she sipped it without looking at him.
"So you were saying that you've been having some issue with bandits in the Stormlands recently?" Father asked of Robert Baratheon, making Arya realize that the serving maids had clearly interrupted their discussion when they'd come running in screaming about Nymeria.
"Right, yeah," Robert said, though he too seemed to be having trouble controlling his mirth over Arya's behaviour and demeanour, "We've had some reports coming in of late about raiding in the outer farms and some brawling in the taverns."
"Any leads on where their base is?" Ned asked while Arya listened avidly.
"Not yet. We sent some scouts out, and a few extra patrols around the borders, but they seem to be slipping in anyway," Gendry answered.
"Mayhaps we should ride out on the morrow and do a thorough search," Robert said, clearly thrilled to have his old friend visiting and the idea of going out hunting raiders from the lands. Arya wondered if she'd be allowed to go. Somehow she doubted it. Of course if she were to simply be riding in the same vicinity that would be a different story.
"Arya?" her mother's voice suddenly came over the top of the men's voices and Arya bit her lip to hide her smile. She had no doubt her mother would ask her to get up from the table where the men were so she could be scolded for wearing her tunic instead of a dress.
"Mother?" Arya asked in the same falsely sweet tone without looking at the woman, noting that all the men had fallen silent at the approach of Lady Catelyn.
"Could you come over here for a moment? I need to speak with you," Mother said and Arya bit her lip harder, trying very had indeed not to snicker at the preposterous situation and at the idea of her mother thinking she would actually willingly go to be scolded.
"What would you like to discuss Mother?" Arya asked, "It's rude to keep secrets, you see? And now that you've made something of a scene over the matter it would be wrong to leave these lovely folk in the dark about it all, wouldn't it?" Arya asked her, pasting an innocent expression on her face, trying to look as though she simply wanted to exhibit good manners, rather than that she wanted to get away with being defiant.
Lady Catelyn pursed her lips, levelling a glare at her daughter for knowing she wouldn't want to make more of a scene by insisting they speak privately.
"Very well. Would you mind telling me why you aren't wearing a dress when I expressly asked you to?" Mother asked and Arya coughed to cover her little snort of laughter.
"I wouldn't mind at all, Mother," Arya said, smiling in what she hoped was a serene way. "You see, I looked in my travel case and there were no dresses inside it. I did choose to wear this tunic that Sansa made for me, however, rather than one of the shirts I stole from Father."
Ned coughed this time to cover the snort that escaped him, his hand going to his mouth as though to excuse his cough. Arya wasn't fooled. She knew that beneath his hand he was smiling.
"What do you mean there were no dresses in your travel case?" Mother demanded, looking angrier by the minute, "Don't you lie to me young lady! I was there when you packed it. I watched you pack at least four dresses into that bag. I made you pack them!"
"Oh yes. Well, you see Mother, when we were travelling here we stopped at several Inns," Arya began unable to hide her wicked smile now, "And while we were at some of them, I noticed that several of the Innkeeper's daughters along the way didn't have many personal belongings. So you see, I felt bad for these other young women who had only soiled, stained old dresses to wear when I had so many. And so I gave them all one each."
"You..." Mother spluttered looking horrified and outraged now, "You gave away all your dresses?"
"Those girls needed them more than I did, Mother. What was I to do? Leave the poor girls in rags when I had so many unneeded dresses?" Arya smiled widely at her mother, knowing there was nothing else Catelyn could say. Not without suggesting that she shouldn't be charitable to those less fortunate than herself.
"Well... wasn't that kind of you?" Mother said through gritted teeth.
"They seemed very appreciative," Arya agreed with her, feeling the flush of triumph to have outsmarted her mother and to have so successfully rid herself of the dresses her mother had forced her to bring.
"Yes, I'm sure they were. I don't recall seeing any of the Innkeeper's daughters that would fit into your dresses, Arya?" Mother asked and Arya smiled.
"I did suggest that some of them might not fit Mother, but the girls I gave them too seemed to prefer to wear the dresses rather tighter than I would wear them, and so they were happy enough to squeeze into them. One told me that wearing that blue one I gave her, she was likely to make twice as much money than she had been making in her stained brown one," Arya said, pretending ignorance while her mother seethed. All around the table the men had begun to look as though they were all close to breaking into laughter at Arya's performance but doing their best not to lest they offend Lady Catelyn.
"I see. Well I'm sure she will be grateful for such a fine silk dress," Catelyn replied. "No matter, we can simply have some more made for you."
"If you feels that's best Mother," Arya replied, the smile falling from her face, "Not too many though, lest I be struck by another bout of charitable intentions."
"Of course," Cat replied, "We'll have you measured and have them made alongside your wedding dress."
Arya felt her eyes narrow with hatred when her mother nodded and spun on her heels, stalking out of the hall, no doubt with the intention of finding a seamstress. Wedding dress, indeed! She thought bitterly.