Arya sprinted across courtyards, down steps, and through deserted rooms before she tripped over a loose stone in the floor that sent her sprawling onto the rough ground. Tears stung and blurred her eyes as she pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned back against a wall. She rubbed at them angrily and tried not to sob aloud. The knees of her leggings were torn and the skin beneath was bloody. She watched as the redness soaked into the fabric and tried not to think about Gendry. But he crept into her mind nonetheless.
He had been her only friend when Hot Pie left. He had been her constant companion since her father died. She had killed men beside him, had struggled to survive with him, and he had been the only one who had known her secret until the Hound had blurted it out to the Brotherhood. None of this stopped him from leaving her, from turning his back on her. Why would he have followed them? He hadn't even known them then, not like had known her, anyway.
She heard feet scraping against the stone as someone approached, breaking apart her thought. She hurriedly made to stand up, but it was too late, he had already seen her. She sunk back down the the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her arms so he wouldn't see her tears.
"He told us that you might react like that, you know." A gruff voice said.
Arya didn't respond as her great uncle settled onto the floor beside her.
"He told us a lot about you. He's tight-lipped on anything regarding himself, but he'll talk about you for hours. You went all over the realm with him, why do you hate him so much?"
"He betrayed me."
"Did he, now? Well, this may not count for much, but I don't think he did."
"You weren't there. You don't know anything." She spat defensively, lifting her head to glare at him.
"That may be so, but the way I see it, you left him." He replied, eyeing her coolly.
"I did not! I would never turn my back on my friends! If the Hound hadn't captured me, I would never have left!" She bit her lip to keep from crying. He didn't understand, none of them did.
"You would have eventually. One way or another, that boy was going to lose you. Whether it was to your family or your enemies, you would have been out of his reach. At Riverrun you would have been a high lady, unattainable for even the best looking of blacksmith boys and with your enemies, you would have been ransomed or killed. I don't which he feared more." He took out a dagger and began cleaning under his nails unconcernedly, as if they were having a conversation about the weather.
"That's stupid. He wasn't afraid of losing me. He had other people to be his friends. I only had him." It shamed her to admit it, how cripplingly dependent on him she had been.
"Aye, maybe he joined the Brotherhood so he had something like family when you left, but it was so he'd be somewhere he thought he mattered. If he followed you, what would he have become? Just another servant. You were high born and he was still just a bastard then."
"You make it sound like he loves me." She said sarcastically.
"If you've spent as long as I have in one court or another, you learn to recognize what people are actually saying when they open their mouths."
Arya dropped her head back onto her knees and didn't speak for a long time, but the Blackfish stayed next to her. He didn't pester her and she was grateful for that.
"What do I do?" She asked him softly.
"Your grandfather, my brother, tried for years to get me to marry and he never succeeded. We fought about it every time we saw each other and he went to his grave without pairing me off to a lady. I'm your eldest living family and I won't push you into this marriage, but know that that boy is not to blame. Whatever you do, make sure he knows it, too." He looked at her gravely, breaking his air of nonchalance.
Brynden rose steadily to his feet and stretched his back before offering her a hand.
"I would be pleased if you would join me for supper tonight, niece."
"You mean you don't hate me for what I said?"
"I find it hard to hate someone who reminds me so much of Cat."
Arya looked at his scarred and heavily calloused hand for a moment before taking it in her much smaller one.