Chapter 6: Arya

Arya sighed.

"Gendry, not now." She said as gently as she could—she wasn't in the mood for a mouth off and really, she had hoped for some time alone without tiring herself out too much. A little bit of thinking this and that, then straight to sleep as soon as she was sick of all the thoughts in her head. Arya was quite certain she was going to have a night like that as planned—but all of a sudden Gendry's boot was blocking her door on the last minute. Gendry sighed, tousling his hair awkwardly the way she knew he did when he was trying to make out anything that he wanted to say.

"I heard about Robb." Gendry said with a shrug, looking at Arya almost expectantly. She knew Gendry would never admit it, but sometimes it got him worried when she was upset about something—just like she was the other way around. It was a constant between the two of them, and with the rough life the both of them led for most of their earlier years, you could hardly blame them. They had no one but each other to rely on and they found it best to talk about things even though neither of them enjoyed it. "Sheltered little lords' girls do that. Like gossiping. It's pathetic." She remembered herself saying at one point with amusement, and Gendry agreed wholeheartedly and they simply laughing the matter off. Nevertheless they did do it on occasion. Given what they knew about each other—what worse things could they possibly keep hidden?

Arya suddenly found herself smiling.

"Concerned are you?" she taunted.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself." Gendry retorted, folding his muscular arms across his chest. Arya sighed, her tone suddenly growing serious.

"It's nothing serious, Gendry. Nothing out of the usual. You don't need to check if I'm still sane." She said. Gendry gave her a smile of his own.

"Oh, I'm not. Like I said—don't flatter yourself. As it so happens I am a little bit lonely this night and I'm in want of company with a little more brains than the lot I need to put up with downstairs." Gendry would never admit it. Although this was definitely not the first time they'd had a satisfying drink up in her room away from the chaos of other people.

"No use arguing, I think." Arya mused to herself just as she was about to come up with another excuse. She began to reconsider—maybe she could use the company, especially one she was as comfortable and used to as Gendry's. And she was lying to herself, besides, she though: it wasn't the usual thing. Not at all. But she resolved not to tell him anything directly about it. He could find out about that himself later on, but it wasn't going to come from her. Not that he would understand, anyway.

"Give me a minute." She shut the door without waiting for his answer. She inspected herself to see if she was dressed properly to receive any company. She was still wearing her tunic and breeches. If she was going to stay holed up in her room anyway, she might as well do it comfortable. Deciding it was alright, she opened the door again. With a pout and sigh, she mussed up her hair and stepped aside.

"Oh, alright. There's no reasoning with you. Mutton-head."

Gendry grinned, taking a mocking bow of his head before proceeding to enter the room.

"Now there's a courteous lady." Arya responded with a grumble.

Arya's room was, like most highborn girls, was large and spacious—but much less garbed. Considering Arya's personality it was rather neat and organized. Quite modest, and with Arya's specific request she only kept there what few things she had and only anything that was necessary. There was a large four-poster bed with hanging white sheets and a small dresser to the side, a small wooden chair, and a large carpet by the hearth with pillows where Arya liked to stay and read. There were windows with small niches where she could sit and have a good view of the outside. Gendry sat down near one of the windows with his back against a wall, where he carefully placed the things he brought on to the floor. Arya sat a few inches away from Gendry, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on top of her knees while Gendry poured drinks for the both of them, and they drained their cups one after the other. One thing they both liked about each other is that neither found discomfort in silence—and that was how they drank this night. Silent, taking turns refilling the cups. Gendry was a big drinker, and surprisingly so was Arya. Even more now that she was desperate to clear her head and calm the riot in her chest. She downed the ale like water until Gendry's bottle had been depleted. Arya revealed that she was keeping another in her room and they proceeded to drink that one as well. Arya was growing lighter in the head but the thing in her chest was compensating, growing heavier by the minute and sharper with Gendry so close… Gendry, another soul she could tell and trust not to say anything relatively stupid and useless. So about halfway through the second bottle Arya threw her head up, resting it on the wall. She said as calmly as if she were simply telling Gendry she was beginning to feel sleepy.

"Gendry I'm getting married."

Gendry dropped his cup.

Luckily the cup was hardly a fourth full so that they did not worry much over the mess it made. That wasn't quite the reaction Arya was expecting though she wasn't entirely sure why.