Chapter 21 – Arya

Arya turned away from the window of the empty courtyard of Winterfell to watch Maester Wolkan applying a pasty salve to Gendry's arm, where the edge of a sword had cut into him. She glowered at the thought of someone trying to hurt him, and he hissed in apparent pain at the sting of it.

"You are otherwise feeling well?" the Maester asked him, eyeing the forming bruise on his jaw sceptically. "You weren't hit directly on the head?"

"No, Ser," Gendry said, clearly not knowing who he was. Arya saw the lightest touch of amusement on the Maester's face.

"Then I must say you likely have had a lucky escape. If you are still in pain this evening, come and find me again." He bowed to Arya before leaving the room.

Arya looked straight at Gendry. "How did it happen?" she asked. She had been wandering around Winterfell trying to find Jon, or Daenerys – or both – but hadn't been lucky. When she had heard a lot of footsteps, she had joined the crowd and only seen Gendry reel backwards as a larger group of guards came to the scene. Arya scowled again. "Was it Jaime Lannister that hurt you?"

"No," Gendry answered. "It was the man who was right next to him. I think I heard someone call him Bronn. I think I've seen him before, before I went with you."

Bronn… Arya thought. The name sounded familiar to her, too. Perhaps Tyrion had mentioned him over dinner while they were at Dragonstone.

"We shall soon see," she said edgily. "He came into our castle and attacked you."

"A dead man, then," Gendry said, smiling at her teasingly. "Let me guess, a sword through the heart and a knife around the edges of his face?"

"If Jon lets me I'll kill him and Jaime both," Arya said grimly. "Not just for you, for all of us."

"So no, then," Gendry said. Arya glared at him. "I don't mean to undermine you, but Jon needs every last person to fight in a few weeks, doesn't he? He's not going to let you kill anyone left alive yet."

"That's true," Arya conceded dispiritedly. "How are the dragonglass weapons coming along?"

Gendry genuinely smiled. "Very well indeed." He then lowered his voice secretively. "I haven't just been making weapons, either. You, Lady Sansa, Queen Daenerys, Jon – plus a few more – I've made full armour coated in it too. Under the leather of course, but that's designed so you can remove the layer. How about it?"

Arya grinned. "Sounds good."

"Me and the other smiths almost have enough spears for all of the Unsullied. The Dothraki have a few of their own smiths and are nearly done coating all of their… weapons in the stuff."

"Good," Arya said. "Well, I guess the busy spell will be nearly over for you. You'll be able to rest a bit when we all head off." She had noticed her friend had been looking tired lately, with all the extra work.

But Gendry looked at her sharply. "What do you mean, when you all head off? I'm coming with you!"

"Why?" Arya asked him curiously. "No offense, but you're way better at forging swords than wielding them."

To her surprise, Gendry just smiled thinly. "I prefer a hammer."

Arya gaped at him. "As if! Really? Like your father?"

He whipped around in a panic, checking that there was no one around. "Hush, Arya!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "We're probably all going to be dead soon," she pointed out. "What's the point in keeping everything a secret?"

Gendry looked sullen. "I don't want us all to be dead soon," he huffed.

"I don't think anyone does, at this point," Arya shrugged. "Jon and Daenerys are clearly head over heels for each other, despite –" she checked herself. "Stuff. Bran's having a whale of a time creeping us all out with his visions. Sam's probably read more books in the last few weeks than he has in his whole life. And as for Sansa, well… she's probably having more fun hating on Daenerys for no good reason than she did with me when we were little."

Gendry laughed. "It is good that the end of the world is working out for some people…" He indicated himself. "I'm enjoying myself more here than I did in Kings Landing, that's for sure."

"Oh, yeah?" Arya grinned. "And why's that then? It's bloody freezing, in case you hadn't noticed."

"It's better than Kings Landing," her friend shrugged. "Not as may hours, and while I don't get paid here, I at least get fed and sheltered, unlike the capital. The other smiths here are friendlier, it's less of a competition as to who can make the most or the best – it's just about doing as much as you can. Plus," he broke off and grinned. "I get to see you, don't I?"

Arya beamed. "I suppose you do."

"Come with me," he added. "I want to show you something."

They walked together to the forge. Once inside, Gendry moved aside a few scraps of cloth against one wall, revealing a stash of weapons. The first thing he picked up was a steel hammer, reworked to be coated with dragonglass. Arya moved closer, noticing the stag insignia on one side, also coated in the obsidian.

"This is exquisite," she said in awe. Gendry handed it to her. "And heavy." She gave him a light shove. "I like the stag."

He grinned. "Thanks. But I also brought back –" He pulled out a familiar looking helm.

"You made yourself another bulls head," Arya said excitedly. "Of course you did!"

"And as for you…" he moved over a little. "Still a work in progress, but I still have a couple of weeks before you'll need it." He tugged another bit of cloth away to reveal a set of armour. Arya moved closer. Exquisite, again, and coated with the dragonglass to give a shiny onyx colour. In the middle of the breastplate, two pewter direwolf heads faced each other, minute teeth bared into snarls, each tiny detail mirrored to that of the Stark sigil.

"Gendry!" Arya gasped admiringly. "This is… amazing!" She ran a finger over one of the wolves, so gently she hardly felt the metal.

"I hoped you'd like it," he said, smiling. "As I said, I'm working on armour for a lot of others, but I'm not putting sigils on all of them."

"Thank you!" Arya yelped, giddy with the excitement of the gift. She threw her arms around Gendry and hugged him tightly.

Gendry looked surprised, but eventually hugged her back. "So long as it keeps you safe, it's fine." Arya looked up at the – her – armour. From the look of it, it would cover her from neck to knee, while any helmet would prevent any head damage.

"I'll be the safest soldier on the whole field with that," she murmured admiringly, before pulling away. "But what about you? If you're going to insist on fighting, you'll need amour too!"

He evaded the question. "It's you I'm worried about." There was a look in his eyes that Arya had never seen before. He looked almost vulnerable. "You've had a few years' experience, yes. But the White Walkers have had thousands."

"I've got as much chance of survival as anyone else!" Arya retorted. "Besides, it's probable that we'll all die, and then there won't be anyone left to worry about anyone."

"But what if we all do survive?" her friend asked her, fixing her with a gaze. "What then?"

Arya shrugged. "Sort out all the other stupid politics." She shrugged again. "Gods, I don't know! What do you plan on doing if you survive?"

Gendry looked down modestly. "I'll carry on in here," he said. "I'd like to stay in Winterfell, though, if you and the others will have me."

"Of course," Arya said. "You're my friend, you'll always be welcome at Winterfell. But what if Jon and Daenerys ask you to go to Storm's End? You're the last surviving Baratheon, after all. They'll probably legitimise you."

Gendry grinned and shook his head. "Too much to think about," he said. "Let's get the next few weeks over and done with first." He looked back at her. "Don't you have a meeting with the others?"

"I do," Arya rolled her eyes. "Anything you want me to say?"

Gendry shook his head. "You know what happened and I trust your judgement. Just remember that whatever else he is, Jaime Lannister is a tried and tested battle commander. His skills might come in handy. So try not to kill him."

"Fine," Arya sighed. "I'd best get going. Thanks again," she added, looking back at the splendid armour. "I'll come and see you later."

"Counting on it," Gendry said, picking up a large lump of dragonglass and crossing to the other side of the forge with it. "This work gets boring after a while."

Arya crossed the courtyard and went towards the doors of the main keep. On her way there, she saw Baelish conversing intently with Yohn Royce. They stopped as she passed them and Baelish smiled widely and bowed his head. Arya glared back at him and went on her way, deciding he looked creepy, all while wondering what kind of plot Littlefinger was trying to hatch now. She ultimately felt glad that he wouldn't be present in the Great Hall.

When she got there, Jon, Daenerys, Davos, Sansa, Tyrion, Missandei, Bran, Brienne and Podrick were all already there, all grim-faced.

Jon spoke first. "How is Gendry?"

"Maester said he was fine," she said breezily, moving in towards the rest of the group. "Back in the forge already." She noticed the look of relief on Davos' face and mellowed a little. "He's not in pain or anything."

Her brother nodded. "Good."

Before Jon could say anything else, Sansa stood. "What do you think should happen to Ser Jaime? I appreciate the need for the other men, but him…" Arya sighed loudly as she went to sit between her and Daenerys. Sansa continued. "The Queen and I are in agreement that he should pay for his crimes, but everyone else –"

Arya cut her off with a sarcastic whoop of joy. "Finally you two are seeing eye to eye about something!" she said excitedly. "Jon, can this meeting wait a day or two? By then, Sansa might actually have a friend!"

"Arya, this is serious," Jon chided her, but his tone was gentle and he had a glimmer of humour in his eye. Arya noticed that Daenerys too looked amused, and even the stoic Missandei was smiling a little. Meanwhile, Sansa glared at her.

"Sorry," she said unapologetically. "Anyway, yes, Jaime. Well, Cersei's dead, so it's not like he's got anyone to betray us in favour of. Gendry mentioned that he has battlefield experience if nothing else."

"He's already tried to kill –"

"But don't forget –"

Sansa and Daenerys spoke together, but instead of scowling at each other, they simply nodded and both stopped, indicating for the other to speak. Arya took advantage of the momentary silence.

"If he tries to harm any of us, he won't last long," she pointed out. "We have numerous numbers of guards and soldiers, as well as dragons, direwolves, a stash of weaponry greater than anywhere else in Westeros, probably. Not to mention that most, if not all of us here have killed before and wouldn't hesitate to do it again if need be. But if he doesn't, we're fools to turn him away."

Tyrion nodded at her, as though surprised at her reasoning. "It's in his self-interest to be here," he added, then turned to Daenerys and Sansa. "I beseech you both to at least find out his intentions here before any drastic action happens."

Brienne practically threw herself out of her chair. "Your Graces, my lords, and ladies, with your leave I would speak with Ser Jaime. Despite his many previous crimes, I believe he has changed into a more honourable man." Arya watched as Sansa looked at her sworn shield in annoyance, and she too wondered why Brienne was bothering, and with such fervour.

"It matters not, we don't anyone to do that," Sansa said, turning to her brother. "Bran – what can you see?"

"Jaime Lannister has committed many crimes," Bran said after a few seconds, his eyes glazed and his voice utterly devoid of any emotion. "Some with good intentions, others not so much. But his intentions here at Winterfell are pure. Bronn released him from the black cells. Neither of them know about the threat we are about to deal with. He wants to reunite with his brother, since he is the only other Lannister left."

Tyrion looked worried. "Do you think he believes I killed Cersei?"

Bran raised his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. "If he thinks that, he hasn't said anything."

"Arya," Sansa said, changing the subject. The desperation in her voice cut. "You put him in the black cells. Surely you had a plan for him?"

"A temporary measure," Arya answered smoothly. "I was intending to leave him to whatever Daenerys decided."

"There we go, then!" Sansa replied, looking at the dragon queen triumphantly. "It looks like he will die for his crimes after all!" Arya looked around, and noticed the pain and disappointment on the faces of Podrick, Brienne and Tyrion.

Daenerys seemed to have noticed this too. "Not necessarily," she said gently, looking at Sansa apologetically. "As Brandon said, he has no ulterior motives here. And as Gendry said, he has fighting experience. Who knows, he may even add the Night King to the list of kings he's killed." Her expression softened. "I know how you feel about him Sansa, for I share your view. And if he and I both survive the Long Night, I will think again on how he will serve justice – I give you my word. But perhaps it would be smarter to use him for the time being."

"Where are the other soldiers he brought? They might be worth questioning," Davos pointed out.

"I don't mind doing it, if it'll put your minds at rest," Arya said calmly. In truth, she just wanted to get away before Sansa started arguing again, while simultaneously doing something productive.

Jon nodded at her. "You're good at reading people, and you know when you're being lied to. I might suggest taking someone with you as back up…" No one, however, seemed willing for this. Brienne and Tyrion were too pro-Jaime, while too many of the others either passionately wanted the lot of them dead, or didn't want to imply that Arya wasn't fit for the task.

Arya shrugged. "I can handle myself," she reassured them, then left for the dungeons.

A/N: I have decided to split this chapter into two parts, since it turned out to be so long, so the next chapter will be in Arya's POV too.

Sorry for the wait, I'll get the next update out asap.

Don't forget to let me know what you think! Your reviews mean the world. Thanks especially to 'Longclaw 1 – 6' and 'SaiyanPrince541' for all the communication and feedback.

Until next time.