"Pr-i-nk...no wait prince Rha...Rhagar Targaryen...was vic-tor of the towr...no wait...tourney at...Harranhal." Gendry read. He sighed and pushed the book away, " this is ridiculous. I sound like a child. I'm never going to be able to do this properly."
"You think you sound ridiculous? I was three times your age when I learned and I was being taught by an actual child. You're younger smarter and far more stubborn than I am. If I could learn to read there's no reason you can't as well." Said Davos.
"I still don't understand why it's so damned important. I have the maester to read my letters for me at Storm's End, and I'm the Master of War, not the Master of Laws."
"Exactly, you're the Master of War." Said Davos, "so what happens when we're at war, and an urgent raven comes to you on the front lines of a battle and you have to go in search of someone who knows how to read before you can act on it?"
"You know just once, I'd like you to not be right about everything." Gendry said grumpily, "one of these days you're going to finally get something wrong and I won't know whether to feel vindicated or disappointed."
"Vindicated? See look at you using fancy words. You're learning." Davos teased, Gendry shot him a look and he chuckled.
"I've been wrong more times in my life than I can count lad." He said, "Unfortunately even sometimes when it really mattered. But this isn't about right or wrong, it's about me caring about you, and wanting to see you better yourself."
"I know." Gendry replied, "and your genuine care makes it all the more annoying."
He went dutifully back to the book and struggled through four more pages before Davos mercifully let him be finished. He said goodnight, grabbed his jacket and headed out into the night. It was a rare clear night on Pyke, the sky was a blanket of velvet black with stars winking across it like scattered diamonds. He liked it here. From their rooms at the base of the castle he could look down on the thriving town below, a warm glow of yellow light that couldn't quite reach up into the desolation of this place. He looked out over the dark water as the cold salt air whipped through his hair. It was funny to him how much the sea called to him. He'd been born in Flea Bottom and seen nothing of it except the Blackwater Bay for the majority of his life. Yet the day he'd take his seat at Storms End, looking out across the Narrow Sea from a top his high tower, he knew it was a place he was meant to be. He was looking out at a different sea now, the Western sea, no one knew what lie beyond it. I wonder if she's still out there, he thought. He shook his head and pulled his jacket tighter around him before starting off down the road towards the town.
It was almost impossible for him to be here on the Western shore and not think of Arya. In truth she was with him wherever he went, but here in the place she likely sailed from it was as if she were a ghost, a shadow haunting his steps. It was madness the way loving her had crept up on him. When he'd met her she'd been an annoying, headstrong little girl who never listened to anyone's advice and acted as though she never needed anyone, and he'd abandoned her. He'd thought back to that day a hundred times if not more, her big round eyes filling with tears that she tried so hard to hide, telling him that she would be his family, begging him to stay, and he'd turned his back on her. For what? It took less than a day for the brotherhood to sell him off. He regretted a lot of things in his life, but he regretted that the most. He wondered once again how different things might have been if he'd stayed with her. Been with her as she grew from that hard headed little girl into the fierce and beautiful warrior she became, would she have loved him? Could family have come to mean something different for them? He sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. It didn't matter, because he didn't stay. And she'd gone, learned how to be a deadly killer across the Narrow Sea, and when she came back she didn't need anyone or anything.
He walked into one of the inns along the docks. It wasn't his first time there and everyone greeted him warmly. A pretty girl with reddish blond curls came over and ruffled his hair.
"Back again I see, Lord Baratheon." She said with a smile, "third time this week, must be something here you like."
"There is." Gendry answered, "the ale."
He knew that if he'd been so inclined the girl would have taken him to her bed the first night, and every night he'd come in since she'd gotten more and more forward in her advances. She was pretty enough, he could see that. She seemed sweet, and friendly, she was even funny at times. The Gendry who grew up in Flea Bottom would have probably jumped at the chance to bed a girl like her. But he wasn't that man anymore. He'd seen too fucking much, learned too fucking much about the world to just throw his life away with girls and drink. Then what the hell are you doing here? The voice in his head whispered. He didn't have an answer. He scratched at his beard. It was only now getting to be anything more than stubble on his chin. He'd decided if he was to be a proper Baratheon Lord he'd have to grow one but gods if it didn't itch like hell. He looked down into his cup of ale. If he was honest with himself, most days he felt like he was failing miserably at being a noble. He didn't know how to sit a banquet, the words to speak at a parlay, the rules of engagement in council sessions. He was just a lost and confused street urchin that someone put in fine clothes and gave a noble name. It was ironic, he thought, that the last words Arya ever spoke to him where to tell him she couldn't be his lady, because that's not who she was. Seems to me we're the perfect match, he thought wryly, the lady who doesn't want to be a lady and the lord who will never truly be a lord. He picked up his cup and drained it.
Suddenly he saw something out of the corner of his eye and he whirled around. It couldn't be, he told himself. He'd been thinking of her, and he was drunk. His mind was playing tricks on him. All the same he got up and walked to the door of the inn. The street outside had a few people milling around but it wasn't crowded, he'd all but decided he he'd been seeing things when he caught the flutter of a cloak in the torchlight as someone darted into an alley. He ran towards it, not knowing what possessed him to do it. Half the people in bloody Westeros wear cloaks you twat, he told himself. And it was not lost on him that if someone was attempting to rob the high lord who'd been staying in the Greyjoy castle, he was making it all too easy for them. Still his feet carried him into the alley. It was dark and shadowy and by the dim torchlight he saw it was empty save a stack of barrels a little way down to his left.
"Arya!" He called out feeling stupid, there was no way it was her. He took a few more steps into the alley.
"Arya, if it's you come out." He called again.
"Almost didn't recognize you with that beard."
Gendry spun on his heels so fast he almost lost his balance. He'd never understand her uncanny ability to move with absolute silence. He knew no one she decided to kill had a prayer of survival because they'd never hear her coming.
She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered. Her dark hair was longer now and decorated with braids and beads in places. Her huge dark eyes were rimmed in black and she had a golden earring in her left ear. She looks like a proper pirate queen now, he thought. She wore a dark blue cloak with a large hood that she had up, keeping her face in shadow.
"So. You told me to come out. Are you going to talk to me or just stand there staring all day?" She asked.
"How are you here?" He asked.
"I'm here often." She answered, "I make port here every time I need supplies or new men for my ship. Pyke is easier than most of the other ports in Westeros, they don't ask questions. What I'd really like to know is, what are you doing here?" She hopped up onto a barrel and pulled a flask from her side. She uncorked it with her teeth and handed it to him. Whatever was in it was strong, and burned on the way down.
"We're here to parlay with Yara Greyjoy." He said, "we wanted to solidify the alliance between the Crown and the Iron Islands." He hopped up to sit on the barrel next to her and handed back her flask.
"We?" She questioned, "I thought you were Lord of Storms End. Why are you doing the Kings business?"
"They actually made me Master of War."
"But you've never been to war." She said bluntly.
"That did come up at my appointment, but their choices were limited." He replied. "There's actually been quite a few interesting additions to your brothers court since you left."
"I don't want to know." She said firmly taking a drink from her flask. Gendry looked sideways at her in surprise.
"Has anyone I care about died? Or been gravely hurt in anyway?" She asked.
"Not that I'm aware of." He answered.
"Then I don't need to know any of the rest of it. I put it behind me. I'm not intending on looking back." She said.
"Then why did you come out when I called you?" He asked.
"Couldn't have you stumbling drunk around the streets of Pyke calling my name. What kind of picture would that paint?"
"For a Baratheon Lord?" He said, "A mostly ordinary one by my count." They shared a chuckle at his words.
"You look good." She said, "I like the beard, even if it does make you look like you father. Just promise me you won't get fat."
Gendry laughed.
"You look good too." He said, "this suits you. Did you ever end up finding it? What ever the hell is West of Westeros?"
"I found lots of things." She said, "but I'm not finished. I'm sure there are thousands of other things out there to find."
"So you're happy?" He asked. She turned and gave him a curious smile.
"I'm happy." She said. She took another swig from her flask and jumped down off the barrel.
"So. Here's the real question Genrdy Baratheon, Lord of Storms End, and Master of War to King Brandon the Broken."
"What's that?" He asked.
"If I go to bed with you tonight, are you going to propose to me again?"
Gendry almost lost his balance and toppled off the barrel he was sitting on. He looked at her trying to decide if he'd actually heard her correctly. She cocked her head to the side, obvious waiting for his response.
"I've believe I've thoroughly learned my lesson on that front, my lady." He responded.
She glared at him, clearly registering his use of her proper title, which he knew she hated and he'd used intentionally to needle her, but she took his hand and pulled him off the barrel all the same, still leading him by the hand as they walked out of the town and back up the hill.
It was a few hours later, Gendry was lying on his stomach in his bed. He was watching Arya who was sitting on his window ledge wearing nothing but his tunic and sharpening a small knife with a whet stone.
"Arya can I ask you something?" He said.
"If it's to marry you, you're getting this dirk in your arm." She threatened without looking up.
"It's not." He said with a smile, "but the last time I asked...did you really say no just because you didn't want the life of a lady, or was it also because you didn't want me?"
"By my count...I've sought you out, and fucked you twice now. What does that tell you?" She answered, raising her eyebrow and shooting him a look.
"I've just been thinking..." He went on, "About the way things are in our world. I have friend in Kings Landing, she reminds me a lot of you. She never cared about the rules, left her fathers house and her title to travel Essos, never wanted to be tied down. Now she's in love, for the first time she says, and she's happy because she figured out how to do it her own way...it's just made me wonder."
"If I could be in love with you if you let me do it my own way?" She finished.
"Could you?" He asked.
She put the knife down on the window sill and sat there for a moment. Then she got up and walked back to the bed. She sat cross legged next to him and he rolled on his side to face her.
"You've peaked my interest." She said matter of factly, "So what does that look like to you?"
"I'm not sure..." He said, it had just been a passing thought and he'd been sure she would dismiss it immediately, "I guess I'll start with you being a lady of Storms End. Which is not a proposal!" He added as her brow furrowed, "You didn't like the idea of being a lady of a great house, holding court and having children. Well...what if it didn't have to mean that? I've been learning to read, have you ever read about the Targaryens? Alyssa Targaryen was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and she preferred to dress as a boy and fight with swords. She was an adventurer. She had her sons with her on dragon back when they were days old."
Arya laid down on her side next to him, proper her head up on her hand. He could tell she was listening carefully.
"I would honored to have my wife, the Lady of Storms end, be a fierce and beautiful adventurer who is renown for her sailing of the world. I'll build you ten thousand ships and watch with pride as my Nymeria sails away to conquer the unknown." He put a hand on her cheek, "I don't care how far you sail, as long as I'm the place you come home to."
"Your fellow Lords will look down on you. They'll scorn you for not being able to control your lady wife." She said.
"Fuck the other Lords." Gendry said, "if I wanted a sweet little wife who would do as she's bid and give me heirs I could have had her a thousand times over."
"A thousand times over? Really?" Said Arya raising her eyebrows.
"You know what I mean. Lords are forever marrying off their sweet dutiful daughters to other Lords, and within a few years time those Lords are a bed with mistresses or in pleasure houses. You know why? Because they're bored. I don't want to be bored. I don't want to do what's expected of me. I just want you. Whatever that means."
He kissed her, and she kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around her, not knowing if his words had gotten through, but hoping against hope. Either way he knew he had the these last few hours with her until dawn, and he would make the most of them.
When he woke the next morning she was gone. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting. Arya wasn't the type to just fall into his arms and express her undying love and devotion. That was one of the things he loved about her. He noticed that there was a note on the pillow beside him. He picked up the folded piece of parchment and read it.
I'll keep this short since you're just learning how to read. I don't hate your idea. In fact it sounds rather perfect if I'm honest. You know me, things take time. If you don't want to wait I understand and I won't hold it against you. I do love you Gendry, in my own fucked up way. If that can be enough, I'll be here in one years time. If you don't come I'll know your answer, and that's fine. If you do, I guess we'll see where this leads us. -Arya
P.S. I want ten thousand and one ships.
Gendry read the note second time to make sure he got everything correct and then laughed. She said yes, albeit in her own stubborn annoying Arya way, but she said yes. There was no doubt in his mind he'd be standing on the dock at dawn a year from now. He'd wait ten times that long, he'd wait a lifetime for that girl. She was his family. He pressed the paper to his face and closed his eyes. Arya loved him. The words were written right here plain as day. Now he really was going to have to thank Davos for forcing him to learn to read. He smiled again and then got out of bed to go find the old bugger.