Chapter 11

Arya

When Robb had told them he was riding for King's Landing with Jory and a few other guards, Talla had cried and begged him to stay. Arya had watched them with weary eyes. She knew Talla was afraid that Robb wouldn't make it back until the birth, and although Maester Luwin had delivered all of the Stark children, she was inconsolable. Robb had left the same day without as much as an explanation for his sudden departure. However, Arya knew it had something to do with the letter father had sent him, and when she had gone up to the lord's tower to look for it, it was nowhere to be found. Surely Robb had been clever enough to burn it, which only meant the letter had contained serious information. Perhaps it was about the king's sudden death? Rumors were spreading that it was not, in fact, a boar that killed him, but his very own Brother, Renly Baratheon.

Arya spent the day in the forge, watching Gendry work, but even in his company, she felt like everyone were abandoning her. Bran was the only one of her siblings remaining at Winterfell, but he was always too busy studying with maester Luwin. She knew that if it hadn't been for Gendry, she would have felt more alone than ever before.

Gendry was currently working on a bull's head helmet, which Arya found very odd. Was this an order or was he simply making it for kicks? She had noticed that Mikken wasn't very strict with what he did as long as he prioritized the more important orders, but Gendry was quick and would finish whatever it was the customers wanted in a matter of hours. The helmet, however, he had spent several days on.

"Are you planning on going to war?" Arya asked.

Gendry snorted back a laugh. "No."

"Then why would you need a helmet?"

"I made one of these back in King's Landing, but had to sell it in order to get safely to Winterfell. I guess I just wanted another one," he said, shrugging. Arya didn't understand what was so appealing about a bull's helmet, but she didn't ask any more questions. What was the point of owning a helmet if you weren't planning on using it?

When the sun disappeared behind the tall walls, Myra came down, her usual smile plastered on her face.

"Lady Arya," she greeted. "Will you be dining with us?"

Arya knew she was only asking to be polite, but truth be told, the meals in the great hall was starting to depress her when there were so many empty seats.

"I would love to," she blurted, realizing she should have accepted Myra's offer a little more ladylike. The smith's wife seemed slightly taken aback and hurried upstairs to set out another plate. Gendry shot Arya a strange look, but didn't say anything.

When Mikken had gone after his wife, Gendry held her back and muttered to her: "their house isn't nearly as big as the castle you live in, and the food might be good, but not suitable for a lady." Arya shot him an irritated look and pushed him aside.

"It's a good thing I'm not a lady then," she snapped. Yet. But even if she knew that the smith's living area was small, she had never anticipated it to be so cramped. The table was placed by the window with a view over the court yard, and had only four chairs placed around it. To the left was two doors, and Arya guessed it were the bedchambers. Except for the kitchen in the corner, the room only contained a rocking chair and a small book shelf with a few books in as well as miniature figures of steel she reckoned Mikken had made in the forge. It made her feel bad to know that while she lived in a castle, her bedchamber as big as the smith's whole house, Mikken, Myra and Gendry lived here, cramped together. However, they didn't really seem to mind. As Myra put the pan on the table, Mikken stroke her back affectionately and gave her one of his rare smiles. Glancing at Gendry, she noticed that he was looking at her, wonder in his eyes.

"I'm afraid broth is all we have, lady Arya," Myra said humbly as she poured soup into a bowl and handed it to Arya.

"It smell's delicious," Arya said with a smile and as she brought a spoonful to her moth, she learned that it tasted even better.

"You are too kind, m'lady," Myra said, beaming. "May I ask if you have heard from your sister? She ought to be married by now, isn't she?"

Arya nodded. "Yes, she married Lord Edrick a little more than a month back. She seems happy enough." She did not know how much the workers knew about Sansa's relationship with Jory, but judging Myra's knowing nod, she assumed they knew as much as her.

As if she had been reading Arya's mind, the smith's wife said: "Poor Jory has been feeling down ever since your lady sister left. I think it was good for him to finally leave with your brother."

"Do you know when their romance first started?" Arya asked.

Myra pursed her lips, looking at her husband for help. "I believe it started a little more than a year ago, wasn't it, love? Of course, we did not find out before months after."

"She really broke his heart, didn't she?" Arya bit her lip, feeling sorry for their captain of guards.

"Indeed she did, m'lady, but Jory knew very well how it would end from the beginning. She is beautiful and kind, yes, but she is still a high-born whereas he is not." Myra's voice seemed a little bitter, and Arya could swear she saw the woman's eyes flicker toward Gendry for a moment.

Arya sighed. "It's not really fair, though. Even if he's not a lord, Jory is one of the kindest men I've ever known. It's a shame he and my sister could not have each other in the end."

Myra gave her a sad smile. "Indeed it is." Arya was no longer in doubt; the woman was staring straight at Gendry, her eyes gleaming with sympathy.

Gendry

Gendry kept quiet throughout the meal. It was strange seeing Arya in the house he considered his home; she might be a high-born, but wearing her breeches and tunic with dirt in her face and her bushy braid running down her back, she could easily be mistaken for one of them. When the women started talking about high- and low-born, he grasped at every word Arya uttered. He found himself imagining the two of them running away together- away from whatever was expected of her, only so they could be together, but the thought was so embarrassing he pushed it away. However reluctantly, Arya was to marry Dickon Tarly and would one day become Lady of Horn Hill.

After supper he had expected Arya to leave, but she offered to help Myra with the dishes, which the elder woman bluntly refused. Arya however, never takes no for an answer, and helped anyway. It actually looked as if she was enjoying herself the way she smiled down at the soapy water.

Mikken caught him staring at her, and he dropped his gaze instantly. Mikken was not a man of many words, but one never failed to understand the meaning behind his knowing looks.

Arya was laughing of something Myra had said, her heartily chuckles echoing through the room.

When the dished were done, Myra sat down to mend one of Mikken's old tunics by the table. Mikken sat next to her reading, and would occasionally reach over to stroke his wife's cheek or kiss her hand. Gendry felt uncomfortable witnessing their loving caresses, and gestured for Arya to follow him out.

"Myra is such a lovely woman," Arya said, grinning. "And her broth was delicious. Make sure to tell her so when you return, I have a feeling she did not quite believe me."

Gendry walked silently by her side, and his quietness did not go unnoticed.

"What's the matter?" she asked, stopping. "You did not approve of me joining you, is that it? What, are you embarrassed?"

"Of course I'm not embarrassed!" he snapped angrily.

She snorted. "Then what's wrong?"

He shrugged, sitting down on the fence of the fighting yard. "You seemed so happy in there," he stated, meeting her gray eyes. Arya frowned, sitting down next to him.

"How can one not be happy in Myra's presence?" she asked, chuckling. It was not what he had meant, but he dared not go any further on the subject. She's a lady, he reminded himself. She would never want to be a smith's wife.

"It's late, you should go home,"

Arya crossed her arms stubbornly. "I am currently the oldest Stark left at Winterfell, and I go home whenever it pleases me," she said. They sat in silence for a while. He could frequently sense Arya's stare at him, but he forced himself not to look at her. Only being in her presence, knowing he could never have her was torture.

When she suddenly tugged at his sleeve and motioned for him to follow her, he obeyed, running after her across the court yard. She stopped outside the first keep, and started on the stairs to the tower. "I bet you've never been here before," she smiled, urging him on. At the top, he could see over the top of the wall's surrounding the castle, and if he stretched his neck he could vaguely see the lights from the town a little further south. Arya climbed into the window and gazed out over the landscape.

"This was Sansa and Jory's secret meeting place," she stated, giving him a little smile, but suddenly her face grew serious and as she approached him, locking his gaze in hers she whispered in a voice as sweet as honey, "Take me away from here, Gendry."

The whisper had been so low, he was not sure if he had heard her correctly. But as her hands closed around his face, and her lips slowly met his, he knew what she wanted from him. She wanted him to be her knight in shining armor and save her from the lord she never wanted to marry. As they broke apart, she looked at him with big, expecting eyes.

"We could leave tonight – no one would even know. We could go to the wall and see Jon, or we could travel to the coast and take a boat to the free cities. I'd even go to Dorne and visit Sansa. Anywhere, just take me away from here, please."

His head felt heavy and his heart was throbbing in his chest. Was she serious? His lack of response made Arya pulle away from the embrace, disappointment written across her face.

"You don't want to," she said grimly.

Gendry wanted to shout that there were nothing in the world he would rather do, but the words choked in his throat. "I-I-"he stuttered.

"Just forget I ever asked," Arya pushed him aside and started on the stairs, hiding her face in her palms. Gendry ran after her, seizing her arm.

"Don't go," he begged her, but Arya jerked her hand free and sprinted down the rest of the steps. And then she was gone. He stood in the window, watching her as she crossed the court yard and disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors. Cursing himself, he leaned toward the wall, rubbing his face with his hands. Gendry Waters, the stupidest bastard ever born, he thought. You have a talent of pushing those you love away until they leave you forever.

Arya

Arya rushed up the stairs and slammed the door to her chamber shut so hard, the chandelier hanging from the roof shattered. Throwing herself on her bed, she let the tears stinging her eyes fall freely. How could she be so stupid as to ask Gendry to leave with her? At some point she had actually thought he would say yes, and when he simply stood there, gaping at her, she had felt like the biggest fool in the world.

She could hear Nymeria scratching at her door, and went to let her wolf in. burying her head in Nymeria's fur always made her feel better. She found herself wishing her father were there with them. He would have said something comforting, and promised that she never had to get married. Perhaps if she proved to him how good she was with a sword, he would allow her to become a knight. She could even be his knight! She could guard Winterfell along with Jory and the other guards. But her father was in the capital, revealing a secret no one would let her in on. And Robb had gone after him, leaving her here with a pregnant woman and a cripple. Yes, she loved Bran by all her heart, and Talla was not nearly as bad as lady Melessa, but Arya missed Jon and Sansa and even Rickon.

Nymeria gave her a kiss on her cheek, and a smile erupted on Arya's face. At least she still had her beloved wolf.

"We don't need Gendry to run away, do we Nymeria?" she scratched the wolf's ear before jumping to her feet. Gathering her most beloved possessions into a satchel, she glanced around her room to see if she had left anything behind. Her eyes instantly fell on Needle, hanging on the wall. Although it was a little small for her, it was easier to defend herself with. She would bring her silver dagger along anyway and therefore left the heavy swords in the armory.

Searching through her closet, Arya realized that Bran's old clothes would not keep her warm enough in the cold. Therefore she squinted to Rickon's room, pulling a thick woolen cloak from his closet, along with extra breeches and a warm tunic. She also stole a pair of boots, even if they were a little too big for her. She tiptoed through the corridor to prevent Bran and Talla to wake up, but in vain. Halfway down the stairs, Bran came rolling down from his room on the first floor, staring up at her.

"Where are you going?" he asked groggily. Arya ran past him without answering, knowing he would never catch her if he tried.

"Arya!" the boy called after her, but Arya was already across the yard. She ran through the kitchen, gathering a few pans and some bread into her satchel. She could not leave without provisions, both for her and her horse.

Luckily, Winterfell was empty except for a few guards guarding the main gate, leaving the hunter's gate open, and she could leave without being noticed. With Nymeria running by her side, she forced her mare into gallop and leapt through the woods, heading north. She was going to see Jon. She was free.