Summer Skeletons

"Those are fine stitches, Sansa." Septa Mordane cooed.

"Yes, very fine stitches, Sansa." Jeyne Poole sang.

"Yes, lovely stitches Sansa!" Myrcella smiled.

Arya rolled her eyes as Sansa blushed and nodded at Myrcella,

"You're work is lovely as well, Princess Myrcella." Sansa replied. That started a whole new round of compliments.

"Yes, m'lady, you're stitches are beautiful, don't you agree Jeyne?" Septa Mordane said.

"Yes I-" Jeyne began, but was cut off by a loud groan from Arya. Their eyes all widened and snapped to her.

"Arya!" The septa began to scold, looking to Princess Myrcella in the hopes that she wasn't too horrified. But the princess' focus was elsewhere.

"My brother's here." She said, jumping up from her chair. The Septa looked slightly appalled by the princess' sudden excitement but held her tongue. Sansa and Jeyne began to whisper and giggle as Prince Gendry approached the ladies.

"Are you sure it's not going to be him?" Jeyne whispered excitedly into Sansa's ear. Sansa lightly elbowed her friend and shook her head with a grin plastered over her face.

"Nothing's written in stone." She whispered back to her friend. She glanced in Arya's direction, the look on her face turning sour. Arya, unsure why she was the object of Sansa's glaring, simply stuck out her tongue and continued with her sewing, suddenly finding it to be the most interesting thing in the room.

It was her final honest attempt at sewing that morning. She'd spent the first few hours of sunlight being wrangled out of bed and into a dress all while enduring her mother's umpteenth hour of scolding. Lady Stark had not been quite as amused as her Lord husband by Arya's little disappearing act. And while Catelyn had yelled and yelled at her daughter, Ned had simply sat there, a strange new tint to his usual tired expression. Arya apologized, though she didn't mean it, and begged for forgiveness, though she wasn't sure she wanted it, and finally she'd promised to be the perfect lady and follow Sansa around for the remainder of the trip, though she didn't intend to keep it.

But still, this morning she sat and pricked her finger again and again with her needle, vowing to make her promise last at least until midmorning to avoid the disappointment in her mother's eyes. She cursed under her breath before sucking away the small bubble of blood on the pad of her finger. She shifted her skirts uncomfortably around her feet, relishing the feel of the breeches she'd managed to sneak on underneath.

Now she kept her head tucked down; she was less than eager to see Westeros' future king, again. Especially in the light of day, when they could both see each other for who they were. Although he'd known exactly who she was when he'd found her in the godswood yesterday. She was the only one who had been deceived and she hated him for it.

"Good morning, ladies." The Prince greeted. "I was just passing by and thought I'd inform you, there's tea and lemoncakes waiting for you all out on the terrace."

Gendry kept shifting his eyes down to Arya, hoping for at least some reaction from her, but she suddenly seemed quite interested in her needlework. He should've told her last night, told her sooner.

"Thank you, Prince Gendry." Septa Mordane said.

"Yes, thank you Prince Gendry." Sansa repeated,

"Yes thank you Prin-" Again Jeyne was cut off.

"Thanks." Arya said with a glare before throwing down her needlework and stomping from the room. Her Septa followed, undoubtedly with a dropped jaw. She could hear Sansa sputtering excuses behind her and then she and Jeyne excused themselves politely.

Arya huffed outside the doorway as her sister, and stupid Jeyne Poole, walked past her, glaring.

"You might think to be more considerate of your hosts, Arya." The Septa reprimanded her. "Especially to the ones who will one day be your king." Septa Mordane left her there to sulk and joined Sansa and Jeyne as they continued to gossip down the way.

Arya stood there fuming for a moment before her attention was diverted elsewhere. She heard laughter behind her and when she turned around and looked back into the hall she found Gendry and his sister smiling at each other as she clapped, and bounced and jumped into his arms. Arya turned away again and found the three ladies in front of her, Sansa cooing about how polite the Prince was while the Septa and Jeyne agreed with girlish squeals.

"So gallant, don't you think?" Jeyne swooned. "And handsome."

"So handsome." Sansa sighed.

"Very handsome." Septa Mordane agreed practically. "And thoughtful of him to think of us and our midmorning tea."

That launched them into another round of giggles and gossip until Arya couldn't take it anymore.

"Great gods! He told us lunch was ready," She growled, "He didn't save the bloody kingdom from starvation."

"I do what I can." A voice behind her said. She groaned and turned around. The Prince was smirking at her once again.

"You do quite well." The septa said, leading the others in a course of curtsies before they all raised their eyes with looks of wild suggestion. The prince pretended not to notice, he just stayed with Arya until they'd disappeared down the steps. Myrcella followed shortly behind, smiling proudly at her brother as she left for the terrace. Once they were alone, Gendry relaxed and looked down at Arya. She was staring out at the gardens, down at her feet, at the the dirt under her nails, anywhere but up at him. He tapped her arm. "Come on," He said, nodding in the direction opposite of the ladies.

"Why would I go anywhere with you?" She said, stepping back and glaring at him. He smiled sadly but quickly regained his composure.

"Because it's either me, or an afternoon of lemoncakes and 'very nice stitches'." He said. "Look, I know you don't like me much at the moment, but I'd like to believe I'm slightly better than the alternative."

Arya narrowed her eyes at him and his annoying smile. "Fine." She grumbled.

She didn't understand this would-be king. No matter how annoyed she was with him, he just smiled at her. What was wrong with him, was he bored or just stupid? Joffrey was nothing like this, he'd hated her the moment he saw her and hadn't done anything to hide his disgust, neither had she.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he led her back through the hall. Though truthfully, she didn't much care. He was right, anything was better than another moment spent discussing needlework or the niceties of Lady Myrcella's gown.

"How would you like to explore the Red Keep?" He asked, turning around in hopes of seeing a smile on her face.

"I did that yesterday." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, perhaps there are some places I'd like to show you. Some things you might've missed." He said, leading her down a winding stone staircase.

"Like where?" She asked, stepping into the darkness.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing, Robert." Ned said carefully. The small council meeting was ending and Ned had waited until each member had left the room before addressing his King in such a way. Truth be told the whole conversation felt untoward, but Ned knew he must bring it up.

He followed his king out to the balcony, below he could see Cersei sitting in the garden, a thorn among the flowers he was sure. He'd had misgivings about the queen as long as he'd known her. And now being closer to her than ever he began to feel the toxic reign she had on the Keep.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ned." the King said, his eyes fixed off into the distance.

"Arya." Ned said.

And there she was, just below them now. Arya, fidgeting in her skirts as the ladies exited the hall, and there was Prince Gendy. The ladies disappeared off to the side while those two remained in their place. They were talking, though he could practically feel Arya's frustration and resentment from here, as well as the Prince's awkwardness. And then not a second later, they took off together, back into the hall. Ned felt his heart sink deeper in his chest.

Robert stood next to him, beaming down at the young couple.

"Those two seem to be getting along quite well, it would seem." He said, smiling proudly at Ned.

"Robert," He warned, "All due respect, you don't know what you're doing here."

The King ignored his words, "They look good together, my oldest and your young one. They'd make a fine pair. It is up to Gendry in the end, I suppose. Our future king. Though it's no surprise she caught his attention after evading him last night. A smart move on her part."

"It was not her intention to catch your son's attention, she was trying to escape." Ned assured him.

"Well of course she was! She's a Stark!" Robert shouted, slapping Lord Stark on the back. "Willfull and wild, just like the North."

"And it's the North where she belongs." Ned said, quietly. "She was hiding out in the godswood. I found the two of them alone in there last night."

"Is that right?" Robert said, his eyebrow raised suggestively, though his mind seemed to be half-elsehwere already.

"Talking under the heart tree. Seeing them standing there, it was like seeing you and Lyanna." He said carefully, he stepped closer to Robert and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I can see why it would be tempting to place them together. You have a son, and I have a daughter, and they both just so happen to resemble... but you'd do best not to overlook other obvious similarities beyond appearances."

The King shoved his friend's hand away and walked to the opposing end of the balcony. Still Ned Stark forced himself to continue, "Arya is wilful and wild like her aunt. She has her spirit, she's enchanting and enticing, though she doesn't know it yet. And much like her aunt she can't stand to sit still, or be told to stay that way. And yet you want her to be pinned down to a capital, stuck in a dress and crown to act like your current queen-"

"I intend nothing of the sort!" Robert yelled.

Ned stopped talking immediately and a silence descended between them.

"I only wish..." Ned said carefully, "I only wish that the past does not repeat itself."

"Ned, you're letting your imagination run away from you." Robert said, in a voice much sharper than a simple warning.

"It's not my imagination you need to worry about, it was your son who suggested the idea to me in the first place." He said. "Even your young Prince can see your feeble plans, and he doesn't have the advantage of our knowledge of the past. Neither does Arya! They're bound to repeat our mistakes if we do not-"

"They won't!" The King said, slamming a hand down on the railing. In the garden down below the women stopped their gossip and Queen Cersei raised her eyes up to her husband's caterwauling. "I won't let them." Robert said quietly. "And neither will you."

King Robert turned around and looked Lord Stark in the eye, "I think we can put this matter to rest for now, don't you, Lord Stark?" Without an answer, the King brushed past him.

"As you wish, Your Grace." Ned answered with a sigh.

His eyes swept once more over the garden where the Queen stared up at him, her eyes clear and unblinking. She hears all, he thought.

"Where are you taking me?" Arya asked as they circled down a winding staircase. The light was dimming as they descended into the dark. And while Arya knew she should've felt frightened, like Sansa might've, or indecent, like her mother would've felt, disappearing into a darkened corridor, unsupervised with a boy, all she felt was elated.

She couldn't see anything more than Gendry's back on the steps in front of her, but in the darkness was excitement, and adventure, and the unknown, and it led to somewhere that wasn't the Red Keep with it's court and it's banquets and it's perfect stitches.

"The stairs get a bit tricky." Gendry said. "Watch you step."

No sooner did he say it than Arya felt herself crash against his back. She grimaced in the dark and felt as his hands wrapped behind himself to hold her.

"You okay?" He said, turning to face her and making no effort to move away.

Arya's breathing steadied from the slip and she straightened up, her hand on Gendry's shoulder slid down to his chest. Then she pushed him against the wall and strode on past him down the stairs into the darkness.

"Perfectly fine." She smiled, he couldn't see it but he felt it.

Gendry listened for her footsteps but he couldn't hear any. Meanwhile, his own feet made their usual graceless clomp, clomp, clomp, as he followed around her.

"What's down here?" She asked. His eyes flicked around in the darkness, trying to follow her voice, but the sounds reverberated off the walls, confusing him even more.

He scratched his head, "Uh, a bunch of stuff. One way leads to the dungeons, another to some of the really old chambers Aegon Targaeryen used for his meetings."

"Anything else?" She asked.

"Yes." He nodded, though she couldn't see him do it. "Over here."

"Where?" She asked, and he could hear her standing right behind him.

"Um, give me your hand." He held his out and felt her press her small hand roughly into his. He took it and placed it gently against the hard surface before them.

"What's this?" She asked. She stepped beside him and he heard her gasp as her hand ran out from under his.

"Dragon skulls." He said. She laughed excitedly and then began circling around the giant remains.

"It's humongous!" She said, her voice echoing as if it was far away. "Can I see it?"

"There's a torch around here somewhere, but I'm can't find it right now." He said.

"We need to find one!" She said, running back around the skull only to bump into the Prince and again.

Gendry reach out and grabbed her arms, steadying them both in the process. Eventually his hand found hers and when it did he lifted it and placed it back on the thick white bone of the dragon's skull.

"I'll find it," He said, "You wait here." taking off before she could argue. Though for once, she wasn't going to.

Down here, in the cold dark, damp, it didn't feel like she was in a Southron city. And mayhaps she could stay down here forever. Living in the tunnels, the dark crevices of King's Landing, only coming up for light to hunt game in the forest and go running with the wolves. She ran her hand along the skull and traced it's outskirts, placing one foot slowly in front of the other.

"House Targaryen," She said out loud, "Fire and Blood. Red and Black. Dragons." She smiled and tapped her knuckles gently against the magical creatures old bones. "House Lannister: Hear Me Roar. Crimson and gold. Lions. House Arryn: As High As Honour. Blue and white. Falcons. House Tully: Family, Duty, Honour. Red and Blue. Trouts. Stupid fish." She said, rolling her eyes. "House Stark: Winter Is Coming. White and Grey. Direwolves," With those words she couldn't surpress the smile on her lips. "House Baratheon: Ours Is the Fury. Black and gold. St-"

Her words were cut off by the sudden flame before her, and the appearance of Prince Gendry's quizzical expression.

"Stags." She finished.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I wasn't sure just how large this skull was so I was measuring it,"

"By houses." He finished for her. She nodded.

"And thank the gods you showed up, I was almost out." He laughed at that.

"Hundreds of houses spread out across the Seven Kingdoms and you can only name how many?" He asked.

Arya counted back in her head, "Six?"

"Oh, we can do better than that." Gendry said, smiling down at her, he walked backwards around the dragon's skull, so as to keep his eyes on her as they circled it together.

"Who are you, my septa?" Arya teased.

"Yes, don't I disguise myself well?" Gendry teased back. He made her laugh. A true, honest, loud laugh that echoed across the walls of the caverns so he could enjoy the sound of it again and again.

"Very well, if you insist," She said with a smile, "House..."

"Greyjoy." He finished for her.

"Fine. Greyjoy: We Do Not Sow. Gold and Black. Krakens." She said. "Karstark."

"The Sun of Winter" He said happily accepting her challenge. "Grey and Black. The Sunburst."

They continued this game for longer than either expected, running through every house they could think of: Manderly, Frey, Mormont, Ambrose, Tyrell, Redwyne, Trant, Martell, Reed, Mallister, Bolton, Errol, Glover, Tarth, and on and on and on.

Eventually the dim grew dim and the Houses were running thin too.

Arya stretched both hands out against the dragon's skull, imaging shining black scales instead of cool white bone.

"What I wouldn't give for a dragon of my own." She smiled, flipping around and leaning her back against it. Her eyes remained closed. If this dragon were real, she liked to pretend that right now it wasn't trapped in a dark, dingy tunnel, but pacing eagerly outside the city walls, ready to take flight. And she would be standing next to it, then on it's wing, then riding on it's back as it flew over the city, mayhaps setting fire to the Red Keep and the walls surrounding it, the ones keeping her, keeping everyone in.

When she opened her eyes she realized the Prince was staring at her, his head tilted to one side and a strange smile covering his lips. Her arms were spread out beside her, wide and stretched out perfectly straight. She turned back around and pressed her hands against the beast's bones once more. No scales to be found.

Arya whipped around and grabbed the torch from Gendry's hand then walked around to the back of the skull where there was an opening. She stepped inside and placed the flame on the ground in the centre where it caught alight to the dust and the remains of a small fire. Someone else had been here before.

"Dragons would be nice." The Prince said finally. "Still direwolves are hardly mundane. Anything's better than a stag, really. They hunt us in the summer. The lions, the bears, we're their prey." Arya paused to listen, unsure if he spoke of the animals or the people. "Direwolves are strong, and fierce. Not unlike their owners." He said, ducking his head under the jaw of the Dragon's skull to catch a peek of Arya. She looked up at him and smiled. "Is it true, your brothers found a pack of direwolves in the forest one day, and gave each one to a Stark child?"

"It's true." She said. It was fewer words than she'd ever spoken and she felt herself in the strange position of wanting to tell him everything and at the same time wanting to avoid the conversation entirely. "My brother Jon found them, with my brother Robb."

"Jon Snow?" Gendry asked. Arya went quiet.

"Yes." She said. She wanted Gendry to choose his next words very carefully because for some reason she found herself afraid of what he might say.

"Your father was telling me about him last night. He thinks we would've gotten along well but I never got the chance to meet him. He took the Black a few years ago?"

She nodded quickly, relieved that he hadn't called him a bastard, relieved that perhaps, like her, he didn't people as others saw them. "He's technically my half-brother," She admitted. "But he's my best brother." She almost told Gndry about the small sword Jon had given her, the one hidden under her bed upstairs, but it felt like a betrayal to her brother so she kept it to herself for now. "He never tried to make me behave like a lady, he loved me just like this." She sighed, "I used to feel like we were different from the others. We look different, we look like the North, and neither of us really felt like we belonged. But he's gone now, I haven't seen him in five years."

She grew silent then, consumed by this sudden feeling of loss. She pushed it down.

"Six direwolf cubs, to six Stark children. Jon has Ghost, Robb has Grey Wind, Bran has Summer, Rickon has Shaggydog, Sansa has Lady, though she... she's not there anymore."

"What happened?" He asked, leaning in on the giant teeth of the dragon so see her better in the light. She looked so small trapped inside it's jaw, illuminated by the light as if it was breathing fire right onto her, and she was staring that fire down into submission.

She walked closer to him and pressed herself against the opposite side of the teeth.

"Your stupid brother," She said through gritted teeth, "And stupid Sansa. They're were both being so... I just couldn't..." She looked up at eyes wide and fearful. Slowly she backed away from him, the heaviness of her skirts dimming the light of the fire, casting her in shadow. "It was my fault." She said. "I mean, no it wash't. It was everyone's fail, but partly mine." She continued stepping back until she stepped over the fire and landed safely on the other side. Her back touched gently against the dragon's jaw and she sank down against it until she landed on the ground. Hugging her legs in close she continued to speak. Gendry meanwhile had stepped inside the monster's mouth and was watching her intently as she shrunk before him. "What happened was this..."

And so she told him. The story he'd heard before, but only patched up versions since his family's return from Winterfell five years ago. Arya told him her version, one that had been amended over the years every time she thought back on it. She'd been so stubborn, so headstrong as her mother loved to call her. But Joffrey was an idiot, and Sansa had been so dumb and naive. She couldn't see the young prince for the creep he was. But as the years went by and Arya watched as every Stark child grew up with a wolf by their side while Sansa sat alone, she couldn't help but feel some fault. The small guilt crept up in her, for not lying for her sister to save Lady, for not being able to save Lady herself. Just the thought of losing Nymeria was enough to make Arya to crazy, like ripping away a part of her soul, the part of her that was a Stark, she couldn't bear to think that burden had passed on to Sansa. That's the version she told him, the one she'd never admitted to anyone else before.

"I think a part of her died that day." She said quietly, once her story was told. "There's this saying "there must always be a Stark in Winterfell". That's where we belong, that's where we are strongest. For us Stark children, we bonded with those wolves, to lose one, to cut that bond, would be like cutting us off from the North itself. Lady never attacked anyone, she was the best trained of all the them, but she would've protected Sansa, like Summer protected Bran, like Ghost protects Jon at the Wall, and now she's gone."

"So you'll protect her." Gendry said. Arya turned and looked at him, sitting next to her. She'd almost forgotten he was there she'd been talking for so long. She sniffled, wiped her nose in her sleeve and stared up at him.

"What?" She asked.

"Your direwolves are strong and protective, and they connect you to your home, to the North, so be that for your sister. Remind her everyday of where she comes from and guard her against anyone who tries to take that away from her. Be there for her. You're her family, you love her. Be her direwolf." She smiled sadly at his words and dropped her eyes away from his.

"Where's your direwolf?" He asked.

"I sent her away." Arya replied, her voice now a mix of shakiness and strength. "After Lady was killed I knew they might come for Nymeria next so I had to send her away. I threw rocks at her until she disappeared into the woods. I had to protect her."

Gendry nodded, "But now who protects you?"

"She'll be back one day," Arya said, half-answering his question. "I can still feel her out there. Sometimes I dream she's running through the woods. Sometimes I think I hear her howling at night. We'll find each other one day. I saved her, and someday she'll repay the favour."

"And until then, I'll watch over you for her." Gendry said. "You protect Sansa, and I'll protect you."

She couldn't look at him. She could only stare into the dying coals of the fire and rock to the side, pushing against him to show her annoyance. Why was she telling him this? How had they even started this conversation? Suddenly, she didn't want to be here anymore. Her skin itched and the dying fire felt far too warm. "Idiot." She mumbled.

He smiled, thinking it was a compliment.

"Stupid stag." She said, louder this time, pushing him harder with her hands. In the dying light, he could see her standing over him. "I don't need anyone to protect me. I can do just fine on my own. I don't need help from your princeliness, you stupid stag, you dumb blacksmith, you liar."

And then she ran, leaving him alone in the dark with the dragon skulls.