"My lady Stark, we are so lucky to be graced with your presence today. How lovely you look."
Arya hadn't been in the council chambers more than a few seconds before a bald man with plump cheeks who smelled of lavender had clasped her calloused hand in his soft, powdered one. She recoiled at the cloying sweetness that poured off of him and was made even more uncomfortable at the unnatural friendliness. It was the kind of falseness that made people spill their secrets before they ever saw the knife in the dark.
"The least you could do was wait until she got through the door, Varys." A sharp voice interjected before Arya had a chance to say anything.
The voice belonged to a man dressed in black scale armor with a grizzled beard well salted with gray seated at the long table on the other side of the room. His eyes were sharp and surveyed her with thinly veiled curiosity.
"He's only trying to be pleasant, Blackfish. Maybe you could learn from him," A fat man with a merman sewn onto his doublet commented from where he stood. "We are most glad to have our Lady Arya returned to us."
The fat man bowed to her and introduced himself as Wylis Manderly. Arya was thoroughly overwhelmed by then, but her eyes still saw as Syrio had taught her to. She did not fail to note that neither the Queen nor Tyrion Lannister were yet present, but every other member had assembled. The black-haired, tan-skinned, sharp-eyed woman dressed in a flowing robe of yellow silk could only have been Nymeria Sand and although she was a woman, Arya still noticed the presence of a slender knife at her hip. The Blackfish was similarly armed and Ser Wylis had a long sword at his side. Varys, unarmed as he was, was the one who unsettled her the most. It was something about the hushed way he walked and his eyes were too quick and clever by half. Petyr Baelish occupied a seat almost inconspicuously, but his eyes were sharp and his half smile made him look like he knew something everyone in the room had been too slow to understand.
"You look like your aunt." The Blackfish's sharp voice said, interrupting her thoughts, although it could not have taken her more than a moment to take everything in.
"I look nothing like Lyanna." Arya replied harshly. A little too harshly, but the encounter with Varys had made her forget her courtesies.
But the Blackfish only laughed.
"Aye, you look like her and have her stubbornness. Your mother had a touch of it herself and your uncle Brandon more than a touch."
Before Arya can reply, the door to the council chambers opened and Daenerys stepped inside. Tyrion Lannister waddled in beside her, his short legs making his gait awkward, and behind him was a face she thought she would never see again, a face that she had left behind in another life.
"Lady Arya, I believe you've met-" The Queen begins.
"You." Arya breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He looked the same, that bastard boy. His eyes were the same bright blue, his arms were covered with the same small burn scars, and his face had the same stupid, stubborn expression on it that it did when they were young. His arms and chest were more muscled and the shadow of a beard covered his jaw, but he was still Gendry; the stupid orphan blacksmith's boy who had run halfway across the realm at her side.
"You left me." She said, her voice rising.
"My lady…" Tyrion said, stepping forward with one hand raised as if he was going to try to quell the anger he could see rising in her.
"You and your Brotherhood without Banners were going to sell me! I thought you were my friend, but you left me for them! I trusted you and you betrayed me for a handful of men pretending to be heroes! Did they really mean more to you than I did? I could have been your family!" She was shouting now, her face hot.
"No. You would have been m'lady." He wouldn't meet her eyes and chose to stare at the floor instead.
"What are you even doing here? You're just a stupid bastard from Flea Bottom! You don't belong here, no more than…" She stopped abruptly. She had almost said that he belonged here no more than she did.
"My lady," Tyrion began again, so quiet he was almost whispering. "Gendry is the heir of house Baratheon. He is Robert's eldest trueborn son."
The realization of what they meant to do washed over her like cold water and in a split second, all the blood that had rushed to her cheeks drained out completely.
"You mean to marry me off." Her voice was no louder than a summer breeze, but in the dead silence of the council chambers it sounded like an explosion.
"Lady Arya, this is nothing to fuss yourself over. It's normal for young ladies of high birth-" Ser Wylis began.
"You lured me here to marry this traitorous bastard! You can't marry off Sansa, so you're settling for me! Well, I won't do it! I'd rather die than marry him!" Arya shouted, loud enough that Varys tittered nervously.
Suddenly, she couldn't stand to be in the chamber with all of them anymore. Their pitying, disappointed faces were all too much for her. She spun around and yanked open the heavy door, dashing out into the corridor before any of them could stop her.