Winter Storm

Chapter 11: A Lady's Compassion

Ned Stark looked on as the bodies of the bandits burned on their pier. His attention kept jumping to his daughter. He'd been surprised to find her in their midst during the battle, though somehow unsurprised that she would find her way into any battle. She had a little blood seeping from a cut on her shoulder, and she'd wrapped a strip of binding cloth around another cut on her wrist.

She limped slightly as she moved through the men, leading three saddled horses the bandits had left behind. The women she'd found in the Inn were huddled by the door, still clutching cloaks to themselves and looking fearful of so many soldiers after their ordeal. When she reached the women, Arya held the horses still and assisted the traumatised wife and daughters in mounting.

They were still sobbing softly every time they laid eyes on her and Ned watched the way his rough-and-tumble daughter expressed a compassion he'd never witnessed in her before. She stopped to straighten the oversized cloak hanging about Bridy's shoulders, making sure her modesty was kept covered. Bridy cried harder at that. When all three women were aboard their horses and looking fearful, Arya asked the least threatening of the gathered men - a squire named Jon – to keep an eye on them and make sure their horses behaved until the party was ready to ride for Storm's End.

Ned would admit he was pleasantly surprised to see his daughter expressing the type of compassion he hadn't believed her capable of. He'd seen her express that kind of tenderness in the past with animals. Both Nymeria and Visenya were often plied with a love and affection she showed with no one else. To see her so protective and careful with these brutalised women was a surprise.

He watched idly as his daughter made her way towards the young Lord that Ned hoped to see her wed. Gendry Baratheon watched her even more closely than Ned did himself. He'd been the one to insist she bind the cut on her wrist.

"I think you should send a small envoy of men around the local farms and villages," Arya told the young Lord without preamble and Ned smiled at her frank nature, "These fools had to have stolen these horses from somewhere. I imagine there are several farmers missing supplies, food and livestock. Send an envoy and bring any who have been victimised by these bandits enough gold to replace whatever has been lost. If there has been damage done to their homes or farms, have your envoys report it and send some workers out to help them mend the damage."

Ned was shocked at her words. Not because he believed Arya heartless or incapable, but because as he watched her, he realised something. All this time he'd been chastising her and grousing at her since they'd left Winterfell, Ned had forgotten something very important. Arya Stark might disdain dresses and a woman's wiles. She might despise sewing and dancing, but she wasn't some savage. She was a capable young woman and as he watched her now Ned realised she would make a formidable Lady Baratheon. Not because she would simper and gossip and drink tea with the other ladies of the Realm, but because she took the responsibility of her Kingdom seriously.

She wasn't even married yet and already she was concerned with the wellbeing of the smallfolk of the Stormlands.

Gendry didn't hesitate to take her advice, waving over several of his men and instructing them to do as she'd suggested. He handed over the sack of gold tied to his belt, telling the envoys to express their Lord's deepest apologies for not doing more until now to help them deal with the problem the bandits had become. He instructed them to give a handful of gold pieces to all in the area, not just to those who'd been ransacked.

Ned knew then that this was the man to marry his daughter.

It was no secret to him that when he had married Cat it had taken him a good long while before he started putting stock in the advice she offered about running Winterfell. He'd been a proud man who hadn't liked being told by some woman new to the North how his kingdom should be run. And he'd paid the price in the fights he'd had with Cat about it and through the mistakes he'd made when he ignored her counsel.

It took a certain kind of man to willingly sacrifice some of his pride to take the advice of a woman. And Gendry Baratheon was that kind of man. He clearly didn't feel like his rule was being threatened by having Arya suggest what he ought to do to handle the situation. He didn't bat an eye over the fact that she'd thought of it before him.

That told Ned two things. The man respected his daughter enough to trust in her counsel. And he was a big enough man to let her call the shots sometimes. Ned knew it had taken him years before he'd raised himself up enough to take Cat's advice on anything. Gendry had known Arya for a whole day and he was happy to take her counsel. Ned also noticed that his daughter was clearly pleased that he'd taken her advice and employed it immediately.

Ned realised then that the lad truly didn't care that Arya wasn't ladylike or in need of his protection. He'd barely batted an eye when Arya had killed that assassin yesterday and he'd look intrigued rather than appalled when she carved the gory sigils into the dead man's flesh. When she spouted such rudeness yesterday, Gendry hadn't look offended or disgusted with her behaviour. He'd looked thoughtful. He was also in tune with her habits already, knowing better than to assume she was making a run for it when she'd rode out in a fury.

When everything had been taken care of, Ned noticed his daughter climbing aboard Gendry's horse and wrinkled his brow.

"Where's your horse Arya?" he asked her seriously.

"About a league that way," she pointed beyond the Inn, "Hitched to a tree by the stream there."

"And you're taking my horse instead?" Gendry asked, looking amused at the sight of the small woman aboard his huge horse.

"Can't walk that far with a twisted ankle," Arya shrugged at him, "So take me to her."

Ned's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline at that. His daughter was a proud woman, one who didn't like admitting weakness or injury. And if she really couldn't limp that far, she would ordinarily have taken one of the other horses to get Visenya. The fact that she'd climbed aboard Gendry's and asked him to take her was all the answer Ned needed.

Arya had clearly made her decision. She might not much like Gendry yet, but she had realised she was better off with him than with any other Lord in the Seven Kingdoms. And if Ned had to hazard a guess, he'd say the lad was growing on her.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

"I'm not letting you ride all the way back to Storm's End bareback," Gendry warned the little urchin in his hold as she began to squirm to get on her own horse.

"Didn't we already have this discussion about you bossing me?" Arya asked him mildly, though she didn't sound entirely annoyed yet.

"We did," Gendry agreed, "But that was before you twisted your ankle and got cut in a fight."

"They won't stop me from riding," Arya protested, glaring at him over her shoulder. He'd made her sit in front of him in the saddle so that he could keep her from falling.

"You're not doing it. You've hurt your wrist. You won't be able to hold on properly. And then I'll feel bad if you fall off," Gendry tried reasoning with her before realising his mistake.

"I can ride just fine!" she snarled, "It's just a stupid cut. I'm not some pathetic wimp who can't ride with a little cut!"

Gendry sighed when she began squirming harder in his hold. It was doing dangerous things to his restraint and having her in his hold was already making his cock ache. Riding with a hard cock was not an easy feat.

"Arya," he said sternly, making her squeak when he seized her upper arms and used the grip to lift her high in the air, turning her to face him astride the horse. She blinked in shock at being manhandled and then began to look pissy.

"Don't you use that tone with me, Baratheon," she warned, pointing her finger at him accusingly, "I can ride my own damn horse and you can't tell me otherwise."

"Woman, shut it!" Gendry replied, giving her a little shake for good measure, "Just shut your mouth for five seconds would you? I'm really tyring here, Stark. You leapt into the middle of a battle and you got hurt and it goes against every instinct I have to just shrug like it's nothing because I know you're ok. You might be the toughest women I've encountered, but you are still human. And you're still female. It's hard enough keeping from ordering you to be locked in my bedchamber where I can make sure you're always fine without you being difficult."

"What?" she growled, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm not done talking," he told her, narrowing his eyes in return, "Every instinct I've got is telling me to protect you and fuss over you like you're a proper highborn lady, and I'm squashing it down because I know you don't need my protection. But it's not easy. So could you, for once, just pretend you do? Let me think I'm being protective and useful by having you ride back with me so that I can stop worrying you'll do something crazy and get hurt again."

"But I can ride fine on my own," she protested, looking baffled, "I don't need protecting."

"I know," Gendry sighed, leaning into her until his forehead rested against hers. She tensed at the touch, but she didn't pull away and Gendry closed his eyes, reaching for patience. He desperately wanted to lose his temper with her for being so reckless during the fight and he wanted to lock her in his bedchamber where he could see to it that the most harm to come to her would be when he fucked her into the next seven-day. And it was taking so much from him to keep from it that he was tired.

"Trust me, Arya, I know," he continued when she stayed silent, "I know you can ride fine on your own. I know that by your standards it's just a little scratch on your arm. I know you don't need my help or my protection."

"Then why…?" she began, sounding utterly confused by what he wanted and Gendry couldn't help but chuckle even as he brought his hand up cupping her small cheek tenderly.

"Because I need to feel like you do," he told her.

He opened his eyes to look at her when she didn't say anything else. She was frowning at him as though she couldn't believe her ears.

"Do you know what you're asking of me?" she asked him in a low voice and Gendry was surprised by her question. She told him the answer before he could guess. "You're asking me to look weak in front of them, Baratheon. You're asking me to pretend I'm some fragile highborn lady who needs to be supervised because of a silly little cut and a twisted ankle. Do you know how my father's men, my friends, will laugh at me if they think I'm so silly? Do you know how hard I have to work to be taken seriously by them about not being a whiny little woman? Do you know how long it took to convince them I did belong on horseback beside them instead of in some sun room sewing tapestries?"

Gendry held her gaze, realising he was asking too much of her too soon.

"Do you know what you're asking of me that you won't let me take care of you?" he asked her rather than answering, "It makes me look less a Lord, less capable of caring for my Kingdom if my future wife won't even let me care for her."

Gendry recognised the stubborn flash in her eyes the moment he saw it and he knew they were at an impasse. One that he suspected was going to be lost to him.

"I already let you bring me to get Visenya rather than walking myself or taking one of the other horses," she pointed out, "My ankle's not that bad. I'd have been fine to walk here. Or to take another horse. And I climbed up on yours with you instead…. Isn't that enough?"

Gendry realised then that what she'd said back at the Inn had been a lie. She could've walked. She'd sacrificed a little bit of her pride and let him and his men think she needed his help to retrieve her horse. She'd already done what he was asking of her and he hadn't even realised. Gendry supposed that was arrogance on his part that he'd assumed she couldn't actually do it without him. He'd actually believed that if she could've done it, she would've.

A smile pulled the left corner of his mouth up crookedly when he realised she'd already let him think she needed him. Sitting up so his forehead no longer rested against hers, Gendry reined Spartan over to Visenya. The mare squealed in offense when Spartan nosed at her, stamping her hoof indignantly and Gendry laughed at how much the mare was like her mistress.

Ignoring the horse's offense, Gendry reined his stallion until they stood side by side. Arya looked at him, baffled when he gripped her waist and lifted her until she was standing on Spartan's back in front of him. He held her steady until she scrambled over to Visenya's back before spurring Spartan forwards to unhitch Visenya's reins and toss them to Arya.

"I'll race you back to the others," she offered, accepting the reins and righting them so she could ride.

"You'll lose," Gendry grinned at her, pleased that she was willing to play with him like that.

"I never lose," she assured him, kicking Visenya into a gallop. Gendry laughed as Spartan leapt after them without instruction, unable to keep from it when Arya glanced at him over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue, her eyes glittering with happiness and fun.

As he raced after her, Nymeria on their heels, Gendry realised he was going to fall hard for the wolf-blooded woman in his life.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When they reached Storm's End Arya took matters into her own hands, ushering Helga, Bridy and Bromilda inside the towering structure just as the first crack of afternoon lightning rent the humid air. The sight of the raiding party returning had drawn several of the small folk close and Arya noticed the way the three women reacted fearfully.

"Clear a path," she demanded, assisting the women with their cloaks before she spied a young boy who surely must be one of Gendry younger brother's, "You boy, run and fetch the Maester, tell him to meet us in the Great Hall."

Many of Gendry's sisters had come out to see what the commotion was about and several of them covered their mouths in horror and the sight of the bruised and battered women she was escorting inside. Recalling the name of one of them, Arya called her over.

"It's Elaria, isn't it?" she asked of the girl. She couldn't be more the three and ten but she nodded seriously, "These women need clothes and all three of them need a good long bath. Have all the handmaidens that can be spared draw them each a bath and find them some clothing."

"Of course, Lady Arya," Elaria nodded immediately, rounding up some of her sisters to help her.

"Arya where have you….?" Arya suddenly heard her Lady Mother's voice stutter to a stop, "What can I do?"

"Mother, the Maester is on the way, and Elaria's in charge of seeing to the drawing of baths and the location of clothing for these women. I'm sure they've not had much to eat in the past days, could you speak to the cook about something they'll be able to stomach. The Maester will have recommendations," Arya said, unaware of the way she'd begun to make sense out of chaos, "Lady Baratheon, please speak to the Maester about ensuring he has the proper stocks of moon tea and milk of the poppy. Helga, Bromilda and Bridy are in need of both."

Helga had begun to sob again, clutching the hand Ayra had allowed her to hold to steady her. Arya watched the way Mya came rushing forwards when she saw what was going on, taking Bridy's hand reassuringly when the girl almost stumbled. Gendry's second sister, Reesa ushered Bromilda into the castle.

Arya could hear the gathered crowd whispering speculatively, some of them in horror. She left the announcement of the bandit's vanquish to Gendry, knowing she needn't explain to any of the gathered women that the three souls with her had been brutally raped and beaten. That much had been made clear when she'd told Lady Baratheon to ensure there was some moon tea on hand for them.

"Arya, you're bleeding," Lady Catleyn fussed when the women were safely in the hands of the Maester.

"What?" Arya asked, turning towards her mother seriously, blinking in surprise to find her there. She'd been so focused on making sure the Innkeeper's family received the care they needed that she hadn't seen her mother come up to stand beside her.

"I said you're bleeding," Catleyn told her, swiping her finger over the cut on Arya's bicep.

"It's nothing," Arya brushed off, "Just a scratch I got in the fight."

"You fought the bandits?" Mya asked her, coming up on the other side.

"I leapt off the roof of the Inn and killed a man aiming his crossbow at Father," Arya answered, "Some of the other's thought that, being a woman, I would be an easy target. Something they regretted when I slit their throats."

Arya noticed idly that most of the women of the Baratheon family had gathered in the hall, shuffling the men out while the Innkeeper's family were examined.

"What happened to these women, Lady Stark?" Lady Baratheon asked her, coming over and looking dubious.

"I found them inside the Inn. They are the wife and daughters of the late Innkeeper for the Foaming Mug Inn. They were bound and gagged, tied naked to the beds in the upstairs rooms of the Inn where the bandits were holed up," Arya answered truthfully, "Their names are Helga, Bromilda and Bridy."

Some of Gendry's sisters began to weep in horror over what the three women had survived.

"Helga is a baker by trade. I told her we would find her a shop where she can live and bake, within the protection of the castle walls. If her daughters don't wish to bake, there are plenty of other things they can do," Arya went on, relaying the promises she had made.

"Where am I going to fit another baker in this city?" Lady Baratheon grumbled, looking annoyed with Arya for promising them anything.

"If there is nowhere available I will oversee the construction of a new dwelling for them," Arya replied frostily, her voice taking on a cold edge, "This kingdom owes them much more than that. They have been brutally raped and beaten within an inch of their lives because of the failures within your kingdom Lady Baratheon. If you truly have no use or place for them here, they will travel to Winterfell with the Stark host where they will be properly cared for."

"Easy, Arya," her mother said, smoothing a hand over her hair to distract her from the way she'd began to vibrate with rage at the idea that Lady Baratheon didn't think the kingdom should have to help the women. Beside her Nymeria let out a low menacing growl that had Lady Baratheon paling considerably.

Unwilling to cause a scene again so soon, Arya turned away from the woman and stalked out of the hall with Nymeria at her side.