AHHH the season finale of the tv series is tonight and I'm so excited/not ready for it to end. I hate waiting, which is why I try to get out chapters as quickly as possible. On that note, as I have previously forewarned, my finals week is this upcoming week, and I'm actually going to be swamped, so I hope that my early posting of that last chapter won't cause delays in the future (I try to keep at least a chapter a head of my posting schedule, if that makes sense). But I really hate studying, and this story is the perfect excuse to distract myself, so we'll see =p
Summary: In which Arya goes to no place for a lady.
This is madness Arya Stark, Arya thought to herself as she finished clipping back part of her hair. She sighed, but there was just no talking herself out of it. Once she had an idea in her head, she just couldn't seem to shake it. And though it was madness, she knew that she'd really go mad if she stayed home like a good girl, doing what she was told.
She wouldn't have even thought of leaping in her car, racing home and stuffing cloths into a bag before taking off, speeding to Gendry's, where, by luck or insanity, she had just caught her brothers pulling away down the lane, and had followed them down here, to some hotel in King's Landing, if it hadn't been for what Hot Pie had said.
Even now, as she tried to talk herself out of what she was doing (to just go home, damn it!), it was what Hot Pie had said that set her blood boiling and her will firm. She could not, could not, even entertain the idea of Gendry drunk, laughing, with some half-dressed tart falling all over him. Her mind burned with the idea of him looking at whoever she was, touching whoever she was, and it wiped out all sense and reason. There was no way in seven hells that she was ever going sit by idle and let that happen.
Arya Stark just simply wasn't a girl to sit around and mope about things. She wasn't about to let some floozy take a stab at Gendry. She'd rather sit through a thousand horrible Lannister dinners than know that she could have stopped it and didn't. Even thinking about it now made her crazy, an itch of blood and fire under her skin. The madness called for action, and that was exactly what she had planned on doing.
She knew where he was, with her brothers and that little shit Joffrey at some strip club downtown in the city. She wouldn't be able to get in, not being seventeen, but that had never stopped her from going to clubs before. A fake ID could fix that problem in a shot, and all she had to do was dress the part, maybe lie a little, and she was in. It was something she had done before, until her father had caught her and made her stop. She had stopped, but hadn't destroyed the ID like she'd promised. For some reason, she just sort of knew it might come in handy one day.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought she'd done a good job at grabbing cloths with only a few seconds of time to spare. She had swiped her only dress, black, form fitting and long-sleeved, with a leather jacket, with thin and see-through black tights. Her favorite touch were the shoes, which she had the good sense to take from Sansa, dark blue high heels that had added at least three inches to her height. It wasn't bad, and it might just work.
It was a short drive to the club, and she found parking relatively close to it. That didn't stop Arya from putting her knife that Jon had given her, Needle, folded closed in her bra. It wasn't the nicest neighborhood, and she wasn't about to get jumped.
Walking up to the club, Arya tried to shake off her seventeen-year-old self and threw her shoulders back, standing tall, trying to make her facial expression regal, proud and approachable. She was met with a man at the door, who immediately demanded her ID. Not fazed in the least, she pulled it out, not smiling (smiling was always a sign of being a smart ass, which was never a good idea).
"Cat Smith?" the man asked, snorting.
"Cat's short for Caterina," Arya said breezily, "but everyone's always mucking it up, and so I prefer Cat. It's shorter, simpler."
The man looked at her, as though he didn't buy it in the least.
"You're skinny, and short," he said, still hoarding her ID.
"Yes?" Arya demanded, raising an eyebrow in her best impression of Sansa she could muster. "Is that a crime?"
"It is if you're underage," the man said gruffly.
Arya sighed, slouching a little, pulling her face into what she hoped was a very dejected expression.
"It's hopeless," she sighed. "I'm carded where ever I go. If I didn't wear make-up, I'd look alike an eight-year-old."
"My girlfriend's like that," the man said, softening only just. "Can't even go get a bloody drink without someone threatening to throw us out."
There was a long pause where Arya gave the man a sympathetic grimace and he sighed, looking dubious.
"Here," he said, giving her back her card. "Enjoy your evening, Cat."
"Same to you," Arya said, giving him a polite smile, walking past him purposefully, doing her very best not to smirk smugly. She couldn't believe her luck. That was the easiest it had ever been!
As soon as she stepped into the club, she despised it. Why people actually enjoyed being in a dark, hot room with a bunch of half dressed women and bad music was beneath her, but, each to their own, she supposed.
It was not hard at all to locate Joffrey or her brothers. Jon and Robb were already very drunk, laughing loudly and falling all over each other while Joffrey scowled, throwing back a shot, as though there was nothing better to do. Poor Robb, Arya thought to herself, trying not to smile, he really was living to the fullest as long as he could. With Jeyne swollen to the size of a watermelon, he could kiss this sort of life goodbye, and not that he'd miss it. At least, not too much. Bran was the only one that wasn't drunk, but looking slightly awkward, his hand cupped around a glass of beer, staring into it as though he was determined not to be eyeing all the women walking by, their shirts noticeably absent.
But where was Gendry? Arya searched for him, but in the din and poor lighting, his black hair and blue eyes were no where to be found. After a good ten minutes of looking, she decided to give up for the time being, going to sit at the bar and ordering herself something to drink, trying not to look as Jon catcalled at strippers dancing seductively.
This, she decided with a sigh, was not one of her best ideas. She couldn't help but dread that she was already too late, and that the reason she couldn't find Gendry was that he had made off with some exotic dancer, who was no doubt a much better kisser than she was.
"'Ello lovely," a very drunk older man slurred, practically running into the bar and eying her up and down. "Fancy a walk?"
"No," Arya snapped. "Go away."
"You're a pretty one, aren't you?" He asked, looking at her breasts, and Arya felt her cheeks flush with discomfort. "All young, and untouched."
He reached out and ran a finger down her arm.
"Leave off."
Arya jumped violently, whipping around to see Gendry, who had appeared from thin air, drink in hand and jaw clenched, glaring impressively at the older man, who instantly removed his finger from her arm.
"Now see here-" the man began, looking angry.
"I said leave off," Gendry snarled, taking a step forward and placing a protective hand on Arya's shoulder. "She's my sister, and you'll do well to leave her alone."
"Your sister?" The man asked, reeling backwards drunkenly and giving Arya a look. "This isn't no place for a sister. What kind of man brings his sister here?"
And then he lumbered off, muttering to himself, and Gendry and Arya watched him go, both struck dumb.
"What are you doing here?" Gendry demanded, turning back to her, and Arya felt herself unable to answer. Though he was extremely eloquent, there was no denying that Gendry was drunk, and was probably going to get even more drunk.
"Why'd you call me your sister?" Arya demanded right back, determined not to answer his question. She couldn't very well bloody say why she was there. She'd sound absolutely pathetic, which is how she felt at that moment. Stupid! "You're not my brother."
Something very dark passed over Gendry's face, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. Looking angry, he pulled out the chair next to her so suddenly that she jumped again.
"No," he growled. "I'm not you're brother, am I? I'm just a bastard, isn't that it? Just a low-born bastard."
Arya opened her mouth, but no sound came out. What?
"Oh go away," he spat, ordering another drink. "Go back to the hotel, where you belong. The girls here don't mind who I am, or where I'm from. I'll show them a good time, maybe even fuck one."
"Fine!" Arya shouted, leaping from her seat. "What do I care what you do? You can fuck every single girl in here for all I care!"
And with that she stormed off, her heart racing with fury. Stupid, bull-headed boy! Stupid her for even coming here, and stupid her for mucking things up when she did! Why did she care what he did anyway? She didn't! She had meant what she said, that he could fuck every girl in this club and-
"Arya!"
Her heart sank as she turned around to face Bran standing behind her, looking angry.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded, walking towards her and then looking around, as if wanting desperately to shield her from the scarring sights the club had to offer.
"I... Uhh..." Arya said, trying to come up with something less pathetic than the truth. "You didn't think I'd miss out on all the, err, fun, did you?"
Bran's glare was murderous.
"Where are you staying?" He all but shouted over the music that was blasting.
"Where you are," Arya admitted guiltily. Bran took a deep, shuttering breath.
"What were you thinking Arya? This is no place for you!" He roared.
"What, because I'm not a man?" She shouted back, all of Gendry's angry words starting to get to her.
"Just go back to the hotel!" Bran bellowed. "We'll sort this out in the morning!"
"Fine!" Arya cried. "I was just going there anyway! This has to be the worst bachelor party I've ever heard of!"
Turning on her heel, she marched out of the club, away from Bran, Gendry, and everyone else. And though her anger could burn a city to the ground, she couldn't help but feel like the biggest fool that had ever walked the earth.
Ooooooooooooo
Gendry groaned, his head feeling like it was splitting open, as though someone was pounding inside it. Wait... On second thought, there was something pounding. A fist on the door. Bloody hell.
Dragging his battered body from the comfort of the bed, Gendry went to answer it, feebly trying to tell whoever it was to shut the bloody hell up, but his tongue was too thick and dry to make anything he said intelligible.
Fumbling with the lock, Gendry finally wrenched the damn thing open, finding himself face-to-face with the Stark brothers, all looking angry.
"What?" He groaned, running a sleepy hand over his face. "Did you have to pound so loudly?"
"It's Arya," Jon said. "She seems to have decided to tag along."
Gendry froze. Arya! Somewhere in his drunken haze, he had completely forgotten about Arya! And Jon was right, she had been there last night. And they had fought. Why was it again? Oh yes.
"You're not my brother."
No, he would never be her brother, or her equal, or any of that, and it was always less than nice to get a friendly reminder of that now and then.
"Why?" He asked. "Why is she here?"
"Beats us," Robb sighed, looking like the night had not treated him well. "I can't understand what she could have been thinking. It was cute when she was little, tagging along, but now it's just getting out of hand."
"We should have seen it coming," Jon snapped, jumping to her defense. "This whole wedding business has been really hard on Arya, fighting with Sansa and all that."
"Still, it's no excuse-"
"Sorry to interrupt," Gendry said, cutting across Bran, "but why exactly did you wake me up if your all going to stand around and argue? Can't you do that while I sleep?"
All the Stark brothers exchanged awkward looks.
"What?" Gendry demanded.
"Sorry mate," Bran offered.
"What?"
"We called up our Dad," Robb sighed, "and naturally he wants Arya home straight away. Apparently she had told him she was at a friends house, and he's not too happy. But the thing is... It would be unfair if we called off the bachelor party now."
"And you're sort of the one Joffrey likes the least," Jon said apologetically.
"You want me to drive her home, don't you?" Gendry said, figuring it out quickly enough. They all nodded.
"That's about it," Bran said, rocking back and forth on his feet awkwardly.
"Why can't she just drive herself home?" Gendry demanded. "It's her damn car anyway."
"Dad thinks, looking at the present situation, that Arya can't really be trusted, and I agree with him," Robb said. "She's being too irrational right now, and I think it'd be a good idea if she wasn't alone at the moment."
Gendry let out a long groan.
"Fine," he relented. "I never wanted to be here anyway. Let me just wash up and get dressed, and I'll meet you down in the lobby in a few minutes, all right?"
"Thank you," Robb said sincerely. Gendry tried not to scowl when he closed the door.
Normally, he would have been fine with driving Arya anywhere. More than fine, actually, but right now... He could imagine it'd be nothing but awkward, and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't really over his anger towards her. It was childish, he knew, but for some reason, he couldn't shake it.
If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew it wasn't Arya he was mad at. It was himself. He was just so frustrated, by his feelings for her (he might as well start admitting to himself that he had feelings towards her. At this point, it was getting ridiculous to keep lying to himself), by the fact that she didn't even seem to notice them, or how hard it was, feeling constantly so beneath her. Like he'd never be good enough.
He made quick work of packing and washing up, splashing a good deal of cold water on his face, and then made his way out of his room, feeling less than excited about what awaited him down in the lobby.
When he got down there, he saw Bran, Robb and Jon all looking solemn, standing up when they saw him, and revealing a very angry and humiliated looking Arya, who refused to even look at him, glaring down at the floor.
"Thanks again Gendry," Jon said, placing a hand on the mortified Arya's shoulder. "We really appreciate it, right Arya?"
She didn't reply and Jon sighed, giving Gendry an apologetic look, as though he knew exactly what kind of car ride Gendry was in store for.
"Well, you two best be off," Robb sighed. "We really can't leave Dad waiting any longer, or he might cause some damage. It really doesn't do well for him to stew about things, you know."
His attempt at humor fell flat. No one laughed.
"Bye then," Gendry said flatly, and Arya wordlessly picked up her bag, not even looking at her brothers, and followed him out of the lobby and to the parking lot, showing him to her car without saying a word and then handing him the keys, eyes downcast.
They drove in silence. Minutes passed, minutes that slowly built up upon themselves until it had nearly been a whole hour and she hadn't even said a word. Unable to bare it any longer, Gendry cleared his throat.
"Are you going to pout like that the entire way back to Winterfell?" He asked, glancing sideways at her. She scowled.
"I'm not pouting," she said in a low voice, crossing her arms over her chest. Gendry couldn't help it, he laughed.
"Stop it!" Arya cried. "Stop... Treating me like a child! You're all treating me like a child!"
"That's because you're acting like one," Gendry snapped back. Arya opened her mouth, ready to shout some insult or protest at him, but she was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing.
"Oh fuck," she swore under her breath when she saw who it was, and then, with a loud sigh, picked it up. "Hello Dad."
There was a pause...
"What? No! We're driving home, how could she be with us?" Arya said over the phone. There was another short pause. "WHAT?"
Gendry gave her a quick, questioning look, but she wasn't looking at him, and didn't see it.
"Have you checked with Joffrey?" She demanded. Another pause. "And Robert? Everywhere? But.. But... I don't understand, where could she be?"
The pause after this question was a long one, and when Gendry glanced back at Arya again, she looked grave.
"Oh, okay then. Yeah Dad, I'll call you right back. Bye."
And then she hung up the phone.
"What's going on? What's the matter?" Gendry asked, his mind swimming with confusion. Arya stared down at the phone in her lap.
"It's Sansa," she said softly, looking stunned. "She's gone missing."
If it sounded like Sansa had been murdered or something, don't worry, she didn't (but that's all I'm going to say because I don't want to give anything away)