Chapter 6: Never a Dull Moment

The path of the dagger, it turned out, was not directed straight at his face but instead at something over his left shoulder. A something that shrieked in pain and surprise the when the dagger found its mark. Gendry spun towards the sound, even as chaos broke out around the hall and Arya Stark sprung up onto the table and bounded over it towards him. He barely had time to snatch her out of the air as she made to leap off it, even as he turned towards the victim currently whimpering on the floor.

Gendry stared at the man lying on the floor with a dagger point embedded in his left shoulder. He couldn't believe it.

"What is the meaning of this?" Robert was booming while Ned was looking shocked and concerned. In his hold, Arya Stark wriggled like a mongrel pup wanting to be put down, but Gendry refused to do so. The woman had just hurled a dagger in very close proximity to his face, he wasn't about to let her loose.

Gendry glanced back at the man on the floor. He was dressed like one of their servants, but in his hand he clutched a wicked looking gold dirk, which he was feebly waving in Gendry's direction as though he meant to stab him with it even though the poor fucker had a knife in his shoulder. It was buried to the hilt, indicating that Arya had thrown it with a great amount of force, for it had pierced the cloth the man wore and become embedded deep in his shoulder.

"Who sent you?" Arya Stark growled at the man on the floor, clearly annoyed by Gendry's hold on her but undeterred.

"Larissa Lannister sends her regards!" The man snarled back at her and Gendry felt his blood run cold. Shock coursed through him as he realised Arya had just saved him from an attempted assassination. He stood her on her feet and she immediately fell on the man, driving her knee into his chest while the other foot stomped hard on his wrist that clutched the dirk he'd meant to use to stab Gendry. She seized hold of her dagger and began twisting in the man's chest, causing him to scream.

Gendry eyed the weapon the blonde man clutched, wondering what kind of damage he'd meant to do with the tiny weapon.

"It's poisoned," Arya said through gritted teeth as she struggled against the man on the floor who was trying to wrench his arm free of her and trying to throw her off him. Gendry wondered how she'd seen his confusion when she wasn't looking at his face.

He wrestled the knife away from the assassin on the floor with ease while Arya twisted her boot on the blonde man's wrist, causing him to yowl.

"Larissa Lannister sent you?" He asked, his temper mounting now.

All around the room, everyone seemed to be in shock. Mya was standing looking furious, his Father's face was turning a shade of angry red, Ned Stark looked as though he was proud of his daughter and simultaneously shocked by the attempt on Gendry's life. Gendry himself was confused and angry.

"Aye," The struggling man growled, "Seems you spurned the wrong woman, Baratheon."

"Give me that dirk," Arya demanded, glancing up at him and Gendry turned his gaze on the young woman. In spite of the man struggling beneath her and the awkward position she held with one foot on the man's wrist and the other knee on his chest, she looked perfectly in control. He didn't know why he handed her the knife, but in that moment Gendry was very aware of the fact that she had just saved his life and so he simply passed it to her.

One of his younger sisters was sobbing dramatically, his mother looked appalled and his Father was cursing up a storm about the Lannisters and the war they would wage. Lady Stark seemed unable to decide if she ought to be horrified by her daughter's actions, or proud and grateful that she had acted to save Gendry's life.

"Now listen, you little cunt," Arya growled, causing another of Gendry's sisters to utter a shriek of shock at her language. Arya ignored them, the blade he'd given her pressed to his intended assassin's throat and causing a small trickle of blood to leak out around the sharp weapon. "You're going to be taken back to Casterly Rock. You're going to be deposited by some of our men into Larissa Lannister's bed. By the time you get there, you will be dead. The poison she intended for Gendry Baratheon has entered your system now, and will continue to do so as I do this."

Gendry watched in morbid fascination as she scooted her knee back until she was kneeling on the assassin's stomach, causing him to cough and wince and writhe for escape. The dagger she clutched slashed at his clothing, exposing the man's bare chest beneath the thin layer of servant cloth he wore. When the expanse of his chest was bared, Arya used the tip of the dagger to stab into the assassin's skin before she began to use it like a quill, drawing a design in the fleshy part of the skin.

"Arya, what are you doing?" Ned Stark demanded of his daughter as she finished carving something into one side of his chest and began carving something else into the opposite side.

"Sending a message to Larissa," Arya replied evenly, as though she weren't using a poisoned dagger to draw in a man's flesh and getting covered in blood in the process.

"And what message might you have for her?" Ned asked her while Gendry squinted, realising the first carving was the Baratheon sigil. When he caught sight of the Stark sigil on the other side beneath her dagger he felt a cruel smile curl across his face.

"Oh, just a love note really," Arya replied, "I'm sure she'll understand. We had such a close friendship when she came to Winterfell to see Robb."

Gendry suspected he ought to be concerned when he saw Catelyn Stark put her face in her hands at that.

"I see," Ned replied, "Robert, I suspect you might want to hold off on your call for war until after this package is delivered to Lady Lannister."

"You want me to ignore a slight from those cunts?" Robert was exploding.

"I doubt Lord Tywin is even aware of his granddaughter's little gift this evening," Arya replied, "This fellow was very particular that Larissa sent him, no doubt because she raged about it to her father and the other Lannisters and they pointed out that it really wouldn't be worth risking war with the Stormlands over a silly little thing like marriage. You have far more loyal soldiers than they do. They know it wouldn't be worth it to attack simply over her hurt feelings at being turned down. Larissa strikes me as the type of conniving snake who would've proceeded to hire this sellsword to have Gendry assassinated behind the backs of her family. She would have the gold to do so."

"You think she did it independently?" Gendry asked, "Why?"

Arya didn't look up from the intricate carving of the Stark sigil she was creating, her hands coated in blood.

"The timing of the attempt," Arya replied, "She has probably had this fellow lying in wait for some time pending our arrival here, allowing the idea that a foreign man suddenly in your midst is the result our arrival, leading you to believe that he had been hired by me rather than her."

"How did you know he wasn't simply another of our household staff?" Gendry's mother demanded of the girl who had finally finished her carving. She stood slowly, the swellsword on the floor at her feet already drifting into delirium due to his pain and the poison now coursing through his bloodstream. She took both the dagger and her throwing dirk with her, being sure to wipe the blood and the poison off on the assassin's clothing before she sheathed her dagger. She made a point of taking the sheath from the assassin and strapping it to her own belt too, hidden away beneath her tunic.

"I asked one of the other serving girls when I noticed several of you household staff looking at him oddly. She told me she'd never seen him before and that she thought he'd arrived with us, and so didn't know why he would be waiting upon us as such a small travelling party didn't call for servants. Since he wasn't one of yours, and he certainly isn't one of ours, I've kept an eye on him throughout the afternoon, wondering what he was doing. When I noticed him carrying a weapon, I grew suspicious and when he pulled it out and began to move quickly towards Gendry, I threw my dagger at him," Arya explained as though it was all very simple.

His mother looked annoyed by her cohesive answer and his father looked impressed by her attention to detail and her willingness to act in such a situation. One of his sisters or even his mother would've instead demanded answers or gone to a Lord with their concerns, if they noticed anything at all, which was doubtful. Arya on the other hand, had simply thrown the knife.

Gendry suspected that was the moment he decided that no matter the effects of attempting to do so, he wanted to marry Arya Stark. He liked her blunt honesty. He liked that there was no other woman he knew who would have done such a thing. Were it not for her attention to detail and her fast actions, he'd be delirious and on his way to the Nightlands by now. She was the type of woman he wanted at his back should he ever need to rely on his wife to run his kingdom while he battled in war. Hells, she was the type of woman he'd want in battle alongside him! Sure, in the meantime having her at his back when she was so opposed to marriage was a dangerous endeavour, but Gendry had never been one to play it safe.

"It would seem I owe you my gratitude, Arya," Gendry said solemnly, unable to keep a small smile off his face, "In spite of you misgivings over the idea of marrying me and the fact that had this assassin succeeded you wouldn't have to, you still acted to stop him."

"I acted to prevent my House from having to war with yours by being wrongly blamed for your murder. Do not construe my actions to the idea that I wanted to save you," She retorted, "If I were you, I'd be on the lookout for others trying to kill you, Lord Baratheon."

"Now you're threatening me? You save my life one minute and threaten it the next," Gendry chuckled entirely too amused by her crass threat to care about how his sisters and his mother and her mother all gasped in horror at the idea of a Lady threatening the man to whom she might soon be wed, "At least things between us shall never be dull."

"At least there's that," Arya growled sarcastically and Gendry got the message loud and clear that she thought there was little else between them and that if he had any sense he would make sure it stayed that way.

~ O ~

When the excitement began to die down, Arya returned to her seat, being sure to point out to Gendry that he ought to send one of his sneakiest men alongside her own – Grendlin – in order to have the body of the assassin delivered in secret to Larissa Lannister's bed so she would know better than to mess with Arya or Gendry again. She didn't know why she was so cranky. All she knew was Gendry's suggestion of her saving him as some subtle hint at the idea of wanting to marry him made her want to hurl herself off the topmost tower of the castle and into the sharp rocks and treacherous waters of Shipbreaker Bay below.

Throughout the rest of the evening her mother continued to shoot her looks of approval mingled with frustration, especially when Arya refused to sit next to Gendry as the feast to celebrate their arrival began. She got away with doing so by pointing out that had she done so earlier in the evening Gendry would probably be dead and she might very well be too. Lady Baratheon was less than subtle in her disapproval of Arya, in spite of her actions having saved the woman's son. She glared often in Arya's direction, and as a result, so did many of her daughters.

Arya chose to keep her comments to herself about the woman having so many daughters to begin with. She also chose not to speak unless spoken to, lest her participation be construed as enthusiasm for the idea of marrying the great hulking idiot of a man across the table. The one who seemed to be having trouble keep his eyes to himself. He'd been staring at her even before she'd saved his life, but now he watched her the way the wolf watches the fawn, with a yearning that glittered in his blue eyes and an intense kind of focus that made her just a little nervous.

She didn't like it.

No one made her nervous. Why should the intense stare of this man make her so? She could still feel the ghost of his hold against her as she sat through her dinner from the places where his strong arms had clutched at her, impeding her from reaching the assassin when she'd thrown her dagger. She knew he'd probably only caught her on instinct and had seen his expression of shock when she'd hurled her dagger in his direction. To suddenly find her bounding over the table like no other woman would no doubt unnerved him, the way it did so many others. And yet she felt the ghost of his hold.

She hated herself for still being able to feel his touch against her and she wanted to go back upstairs and bathe again. She'd been given a wet cloth when she'd finally stepped back from the dying sellsword covered in blood from her carvery, and she'd noticed the way Lady Baratheon had eyed her distastefully as she rubbed half-heartedly at the red blood staining her hands. Arya had rolled her eyes at the sight. She didn't care if the woman didn't like her and she certainly had no intention of becoming the woman's good-daughter. Something she hoped to achieve by proving how far from being a Lady she was.

"So Lady Arya, how was your trip south?" the woman with short black hair dressed in men's clothing who sat by Gendry asked her politely midway through dinner, no doubt noticing that Arya had been stabbing viciously at her food beneath Gendry's constant stare.

"Don't call me that," Arya said through gritted teeth. They'd been introduced earlier and Arya had already told Mya more than once not to call her a Lady.

"Sorry, Arya, I keep forgetting," Mya apologized, clearly enjoying the look of Lady Stark and Lady Baratheon's faces as Arya corrected everyone over and over again. It was no secret that rejecting the title as she did was an act of disobedience and defiance against the restraints of their society and many in the past, especially her mother lamented the idea of Arya so willingly casting aside the title that signified she was more important than the common folk, that she was entitled to protection and finery and all the food and featherbeds she could ever need.

"My trip south was unpleasant," Arya replied to her question rather than commenting further on the matter of her title lest she begin sounding like a parrot in her repetitiveness, "I prefer the cold of the North to the oppressive heat of the South."

"I understand. When I travel between here and the Eyrie I often lament leaving it again for the sticky heat of the Stormlands. The winter is not so oppressive and much rainier than the long summer," Mya told her, clearly noticing that Arya was commenting on her distaste at having to come south at all and making her feelings known on the subject but glossing over it in favour of continuing the conversation.

"Do you ever have summer snow?" Arya asked pointedly.

"Not in the middle of the long summer but as we draw close to Winter we occasionally get a freak snow storm out of nowhere. But usually no," Mya told her, grinning at her across the table. Arya got the feeling she was going to like the woman. There was a carefree, mischievousness about Mya that Arya recognised and it made her think the two of them could someday be fine friends.

She already liked the way Mya wore her hair short, the curls playing about her ears easily. It looked far easier to manage than her own long hair, which was currently still swinging loose because she'd been resisting her mother's attempts to braid it for her. Arya was thinking of suggesting she style her own hair the same way.

"That's a shame," Arya said to her, figuring that if she was going to be stuck here she ought to at least try to make a friend who might be interested in sparring with her. "Do you often travel between here and the Eyrie?"

"Every few moons. My mother remains at the Eyrie and I like to visit with her and bring her what I can. She's not well, and though she always pushed to have me live here with Father she misses me when I'm away," Mya told her.

"Perhaps I might accompany you sometime?" Arya suggested.

She didn't want to acknowledge that she was likely to end up wedded to Gendry, but it seemed unavoidable. After all, she had just sent off a rather offensive package that would undoubtedly cause further bad feeling between her own house, along with the Baratheon house, and the Lannister house. She could also see how pleased Father was to be in the company of his old friend again, and that he was warming up to Gendry, who was keeping half his attention fixed on Arya but the rest on the discussion the men were still having about the possible location of the gang of bandits.

"I would enjoy the company," Mya said, "I usually travel alone or with very few guards, so to have another woman along, one who isn't likely to whine and moan and begrudge the long ride would be most welcome."

Arya felt the first real smile she'd smiled since Father had told her of her fate to come to Storm's End slip across her face to hear Mya's words.

"Is that a smile I see?" Ned interrupted before Arya could reply and Arya realised that he'd been keeping a close eye on her too.

"Mya has invited me to accompany her on her next trip to the Eyrie, Father," Arya replied, unable to help her smile at the idea of escaping this place of storms and watchful men who made her nervous.

"I see," Ned replied, "It's been a long time since I travelled to the Eyrie myself."

Robert drew Father's attention away at the mention of that and Arya stiffened when her mother leant over and hissed at her.

"Must you look so pleased by the idea of leaving this place already?"

"Must you insist on forcing me into a marriage I do not want to a man I do not know all because the outdated and utterly preposterous traditions of highborn society within Westeros dictate that as a woman I've less value than the lands we live off or a valiant steed?" Arya retorted, her temper flaring immediately at her mother's words.

Many at the table fell silent at her less than subtle exclamation. Arya was too angry about the idea to care. If there was one thing she hated, it was constantly being reminded by her mother about the image she ought to be putting forward and how she should be like Sansa – a shy, blushing bride to be, polite and demure and utterly delighted over the idea of being wed. Too bad Arya was none of things and had no intention of pretending to be all for the cause of seeing her wed or avoiding rankling the sensibilities of others.

"Arya!" Catelyn warned her, her Tully blue eyes sparkling with fury over the idea of Arya making a scene once again. She was aware of the fact that Robert Baratheon was chuckling very quietly to himself and that her Father was watching her with a mildly pained expression on his face. Mya across the table from her was looking as though she agreed with the sentiment but also like she disliked the idea of Arya not being interested in wedding her brother.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mother," Arya bit out sarcastically, "Was I not supposed to mention that part of this ridiculous meeting? We all skirt around it and smile and pretend, but the fact of the matter is that you've dragged across the realm for the purpose of pushing me into a marriage in spite of my feelings on the idea of marriage and on the idea of being a Lady. I don't know how many times I need to say it, but it seems I must do so again. I do not wish to marry. I have more to my life than the need to have a man protect me and to fuck his sons into my belly. I am just as capable of fighting and protecting the realm as any man, as was proven this very evening when I slayed a man attempting to assassinate a Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The fact that you believe I ought to instead spend my life sewing and gossiping and raising babes I don't want, for a man who is only marrying me in order to validate his title is degrading and offensive and I'll not allow anyone, least of all the man you intend to force me into nuptials with, to be deluded about my feelings on the matter."

With all of that said and her mother left gobsmacked, Arya pushed her chair back from the table and stalked out of the hall with Nymeria on her heels. She ignored her mother when Catelyn tried to call her back, and her father when he called her name too. She also chose to pretend ignorance of the expression Gendry Baratheon wore. She hated him a little more when rather than looking offended or embarrassed over her outburst and her rejection of the idea of marrying him, as any other Lord might've done, he instead looked like he kind of wanted to fuck her.