Arya

Chapter 8

Arya was surprised by how hard it would be to say goodbye to her sister on the day of her departure. She had spent the last day helping Sansa packing up her things in heavy chests. Her chamber seemed awfully empty as three servant came to carry her belonging downstairs.

"I'll miss you," Arya said, hugging her sister one last time. Sansa clutched to her as if her life depended on it.

"I wish you'd come with us to Dorne," she whispered. Arya nodded. She too would do anything to escape Winterfell for a few months, even if the journey to Dorne would take a little less than two months.

A tear rolled down Sansa's cheek as they broke apart. Arya wiped the tear away with her sleeve.

"Now you be a good wife," she told her sister, smiling meekly at her. Sansa let out a snort of laughter and nodded.

"And you be a good host to the Tarly's," Sansa replied, her voice weak. As they left the chamber, Sansa stopped in the doorway and looked around for what was possibly the last time in her life. The sight that met her downstairs made Arya feel even sadder, and Sansa burst into tears. Her brother's stood in a row, all wearing dim expressions on their faces. Sansa bent down to kiss Bran's forehead, whispering something in his ear. Robb wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her off the floor in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'll miss you little sister," he told her. Sansa wiped away the tears, putting on a brave face. Rickon, who would accompany them south, only smiled and offered Sansa his arm. Sansa let out a nervous laugh and let him escort her to the awaiting wagon. They all followed them out to the court yard, where several of the inhabitants had gathered to take farewell with the oldest Stark sister. Arya felt her eyes sting, and forced herself not to cry. She tried to think of all the fights she and Sansa had, but they simply made her miss her presence even more.

They said farewell to their parents as well, but no one shed a tear for them as they would see them again in a few months. Rickon waved to them, eager to get going. Just as Arya, he had never been further south than Torhen's square, and Arya envied him for being allowed to go. She wished the Tarly's would leave already so she too would be able to leave with her sister.

"I'll miss you!" Sansa called as the wagon started moving. Arya waved violently until the wagon was out of sight. Sighing, she turned to her brothers who were both staring up at the first keep. Following their eyes, she looked up as well and saw a tall figure through the window. Jory was seated alone, staring down at the departing group, his face positively grimmer than Arya had ever seen any man look. She felt her heart ache for both Jory and Sansa, and cursed the world for being so unfair as to keep two loving souls apart.

"She'll write soon," Robb said, tearing his gaze from the grieving guard. "She promised she would." Arya and Bran nodded, both staring at the court yard where Sansa's wagon had been. Jon was gone, and so was Sansa. Soon it would be her turn to go.

Arya felt down for the rest of the day, and not even Dickon's encouraging japes managed to cheer her up. In fact, they only made her more depressed, and she found herself longing for Gendry's quiet character. Dickon talked and never shut up for more than ten seconds, before he would say something else. She wanted to be left alone more than anything, and spent the day dodging him. When he found her in the kennel, petting the dogs, she had enough and snapped at him to leave her alone before she stabbed him in the heart with a dagger. Dickon's eyes had widened in shock, but at least he obeyed and left to find his parents. Arya's desire to be alone led her to the wolfswood where she lay completely silent in the snow, staring up at the dark clouds. It would start snowing in any second, she knew, but didn't care. Perhaps if she lay her long enough, the snow would cover her and she would be gone from the world forever.

She suddenly heard movement from the woods. "Nymeria, leave me alone," she told her wolf, before she realized she only heard two feet walk through the snow. And there he was, his hair as dark as coal with a green cloak wrapped around himself. Without a word, he lay down next to her, staring up at the clouds as heavy snow started falling. Arya felt her throat thicken and tears stung her eyes. She had noy allowed herself to cry in front of Sansa or Dickon, but Gendry was different. Gendry was her friend, and she didn't have to act all tough and indifferent when around him. He understood her almost as well as Jon had. And as the tears streamed down her cheek, and an occasional sob escaped her lips, Gendry took her hand in his and squeezed it, letting him know he was there. And just like that, everything that had happened between them were forgiven and they were back to being friends.

The days that followed seemed gray and meaningless. What startled Arya the most was how depressed her sister's departure had made her. How many times hadn't she wanted to beat her sister into a bloody pulp because she was so mad at her? But how could she be mad at someone she probably would never see again. Just like Jon, Sansa were out of her lives forever. Robb was starting to get anxious for her, and challenged her to a duel, but Arya had turned him down. She would rather spend her days in the wolfswood, wipping a tree with a stick or simply just lay there in the snow. Sometimes, Gendry would find here there, and he would make her sister's absent a little less noticeable, but then Arya would think of her upcoming marriage to Dickon, and the world fell apart all over again. More than once she considered running away, leaving Winterfell forever, but something always held her back. She was a Stark and Starks did not run away from their problems. They confronted them and found a way to solve them.

When she asked Robb how long the Tarly's expected to stay with them, he shrugged and said with his jaw clenched: "I think they want to see if you truly are appropriate for their son. Either that, or they are watching me to see how I am as a husband to their eldest daughter."

Arya started visiting the forge daily again, watching Gendry work. It was a nice place to hide from Dickon, who had decided that her threat had simply been a bad jape and started stalking her again. But then one day, her husband-to-be had entered the smithy and looked right at her, his eyes wide with surprise. Arya would have hidden if he had not already seen her, but judging by the look on his face, it was too late. Gendry cleared his throat and asked if he needed anything. Arya saw Mikken turn to watch with an amused smile on his face.

"A word with Arya, please," Dickon said. Arya could hear how much effort it cost him to keep his voice calm, and when he motioned for her to follow him outside, she obeyed. He seized her elbow and pulled her into an alley behind the forge.

"What are you doing with him?" he asked accusingly. Arya gaped at him, jerking her arm from his tight grip.

"He's my friend. I watch him work, that's all," she replied, meeting his narrowed eyes.

"Are you taking me for a fool?" he asked through clenched teeth. Arya shook her head, feeling her blood boil. So this was Dickon's true self. Not only did his mouth never take a break, but he was an overprotective, jealous git.

"I don't want the two of you to spend any more time together," he said. "You lady mother said-"

"My mother said what?" Arya asked, cutting him off. This ought to be interesting!

Dickon hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "She told me I ought to watch out for the blacksmith- that he likes you."

Arya laughed by this – a deep, hollow laugh that echoed through the alley. Of course her mother would say that. She would do anything to prevent an incident like Sansa's to repeat itself. Now everything made sense. That was why the Tarly's were still here, they were making sure nothing happened between her and Gendry. That was probably why Dickon was so damn pestering.

"So you are spying on me?" she asked, shooting him a challenging look.

Dickon frowned. "Watching over is more like it, and I do not like what we have discovered."

"And what would that be?"

"You've been meeting the smith in the forest. My man saw you holding hands…"

Arya snorted. He had to be referring to the day Sansa left, as it was the only time Gendry had ever held her hand. Suddenly, she saw a way out of the marriage, and she jumped at it as quickly as it had come to her mind.

"What do you suspect is going on between Gendry and me?" she asked. Dickon crossed his arms and pursed his lips, reminding her of his father. Dickon too would probably end up bold and grumpy, and who would want a husband like that?

"I believe you would rather marry that low-born blacksmith instead of me," he said in a harsh voice.

Arya smirked slyly. "Perhaps I do."

The Tarly's left the day after, to all of Winterfell's relief. Well, all but Talla, who wondered what or who had driven them away so suddenly. Arya kept her mouth shut and simply shrugged when she asked, but Robb caught her smirk and winked at her. Arya wondered what her mother would say when she returned. She suspected she would be very angry with her, but perhaps she would forgive her when Arya told her the Tarly's were spying on her, and left because of a stupid suspicion. She needed not reveal that she had confirmed their theory.

Gendry had sneaked after Arya as she was being pulled by Dickon to the alley, and had listened to their conversation behind the corner. When he left, Mikken had simply sighed but did not try to stop him, for which Gendry was grateful. When she uttered her last words, Gendry felt his stomach twist. Was she speaking the truth or was it only a lie to get out of the betrothal to Dickon? Gendry did not know, and the curiosity was driving him mad.

He stayed in the forge after closing hour that day, making a new necklace identical to the one Arya had bought for Sansa. He had been so caught up in his work, he had completely forgotten about food, and was only reminded when Myra came down with a bowl of soup.

"What are you making?" she asked and leaned over to see the howling wolf. "A direwolf."

He knew she understood who the necklace was meant for immediately, but he did not care. Although Arya normally didn't wear jewelery, he knew she would like this one, and if she did marry some high-born lord, then at least she would have something to remind her of him. Myra stroke his shoulder sympathetically. "Did I ever tell you about how Mikken and I met?"

Gendry shook his head, reluctantly putting his tools away and turned to listen.

"I believe I was even younger than Lady Stark is today. I was working in an alehouse back in King's Landing when Mikken lived with your old master's father. They were trained up together, you see, which is why Tobho knew he could trust Mikken with your safety." She gave him a weak smile before she continued. "Back then I was madly in love with a man called Rod, I do not remember his real name." Gendry already knew where the story was leading, but let her tell it anyway.

"But then my parents told me I was to marry a very promising blacksmith, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Winterfell where Mikken's family lived, because they desperately needed a new smith. At first, I hated the idea of spending my life with a man I hardly knew but after I while-"

Gendry finished her sentence with a sigh. "You learned to love him."

Myra nodded, patting his arm. "Lady Stark might seem like the only woman in the world that you can truly be happy with, but the sooner you admit to yourself that nothing can ever come out of your friendship, the sooner you can move on and find a wife of your own kin."

Gendry clenched his jaw, considering her words. If he believed Arya would ever fall in love with a low-born blacksmith – a bastard none the least, he was kidding himself. Myra was right, he needed to move on. Taking one last glance at the nearly done necklace, he picked it up and let it fall into the melting pan above the fire.