I'd already basically finished it, so I thought, why wait? Here's the next chapter! Hope you like it =)
Note: For Gendry's POV I listened to the song 'Home' by Daughter and it just works so well, I thought I'd share.
Gendry
By the time they reached the Peach, it was growing dark, the sky fading into a sunset, the light casting a warm glow over everything. Everything except Arya, that was. She seemed to be in a permanent shadow of annoyance and mistrust. Sleeping rough in the woods for the past couple of nights hadn't helped.
"We're going south," she had insisted over and over again until Gendry thought she might write a song about it. "Look at the sun! If we were going North-"
"Arya shut up," he had finally snapped, irritated beyond belief. "Didn't they make it clear that they want to keep you safe? Why wouldn't we trust them?"
"How long do you have? Because I could give you a million reasons," she had growled. "You're so stupid! If Joffrey dyed his hair red you'd probably trust him too!"
After that, they hadn't spoken much.
Looking over at her, Gendry felt a twinge of something akin to regret twist at his heart. He... He didn't want to be arguing with her. Truth be told, that was the last thing he wanted. But she always made it so easy, damn her. Why couldn't she just see what he saw? That the Brotherhood… Well…They weren't so bad, were they?
The truth was, Gendry rather liked them. The few days he had spent with them... They weren't bad people. They had no money, but when they had passed a homeless man sleeping under a bridge, Beric had given him his sandwich that was supposed to be his meal for the day without a second thought. And when Gendry talked to them, and what they were all about... Not killing people, but helping people. The truth of it was, Gendry wasn't sure he'd like working for Robb Stark as much as being with them.
But if Arya so much as heard that thought... She'd kill him. Or worse. No much worse. Gendry stole a look at her now, as they walked through the town, quiet in the evening light, and he knew how she would be. She would be heartbroken.
That's stupid, a voice in his head thought, all she's ever done was hate you. When she sees her brother, you'll be nothing but dust.
The thought tasted bitter in his mouth.
"Well here she is!" Tom sang. "The Peach! As beautiful as ever!"
That was the most ironic statement Gendry had ever heard. The Peach was the ugliest place he had ever seen. Blinking, half broken neon lights, with pictures of barely covered-up girls plastered onto the brick walls. He could smell the cigarette smoke and booze that seemed to leach from the place and cast it in a smoky haze. Anger swelled within him.
"This is wrong," he said to Beric. "We can't take her here."
"Why not?" Arya snapped at his elbow, appearing out of nowhere and nearly scaring the shit out of him.
"This isn't appropriate," Gendry insisted, his face turning bright red. "She's just a kid-"
"I am not just a kid," Arya snarled right over him, looking strangely hurt. "I'm not stupid either. I know what this place is, and its fine. It's better than sleeping in the woods."
"It is not fine," Gendry said, ignoring her. "Beric surely there's some place else, I'll go with her-"
"Stop treating me like a baby," Arya said hotly. "It's only a strip club."
"It's more than a strip club!" Gendry hissed, his face turning hotter and hotter. Beric said nothing, he merely watched them.
"Oh what? This isn't even about me, is it? What's the matter? Never seen a naked girl before?" Arya taunted, but Gendry knew that she was well aware that it was exactly about her. She was just deflecting the argument.
"No!" Gendry snapped, losing his temper. "I've seen plenty of naked girls, all right? That's not the point-"
Arya's mouth opened, but no sound came over. Clearly she hadn't expected him to say that. In fact, it almost looked like that was the last thing she had expected him to say. Humiliation flowered red across her cheeks.
"I'm afraid it's the only place that's safe for her," Beric said gently. "It's the only place they won't look, and I know the owner."
Cowed, Gendry said nothing, but he was still angry, grinding his jaw together tightly, his fingers flexed as they walked inside.
It smelled even worse. The stench of vomit, alcohol and pot was overwhelming. Music, low and sensual vibrated softly from speakers on the walls, and the lights were so low Gendry was nearly walking blind. Over on a stage, a girl dipped and danced, her breasts bare, for a small crowd of men, who cheered and whistled. Gendry shot a look over at Arya, who was trying to look above it all, and clenched his hands into fists.
She shouldn't have to see this, he thought furiously. This isn't right...
"Well aren't you a lovely one?"
It was a girl, older than Arya, with tangled black hair and tits clinched tight in a corset. Gendry's throat went dry, but just as the girl came towards him, it was like he felt Arya's presence more and more...
"Care to have your cock warmed? I'd do a face like that for free."
Her arm slinked into his.
"Leave off," Gendry grunted, embarrassed. He felt Arya shift near him and didn't dare to look at her.
"What? Are you gay or something?" She asked with a laugh. And then before he could stop her, she grabbed his crotch and laughed. Gendry pushed her off, mortified. "Obviously not."
"Don't do that!" He said hotly, his face so red he was sure it would burn. "I said no! Leave off!"
"All right then touchy," she snapped, and flounced away, laughing at him.
He caught Arya's eye, and there was a look he could not place, but he couldn't bear to hold her gaze.
He followed Beric and the others upstairs, Arya close behind, to where they would be sleeping. The lights flickered up here too, and in the rooms next to them, they could hear the shrieks and grunts of customers getting their money's worth. There was a moment of silence as they all took in the dilapidated room... The water stained walls, the ripped carpets... It was better than sleeping outdoors, but only just.
"Well," Tom said loudly. "There's a pretty girl putting on a show downstairs, and I'd hate to waste it! Who's with me?"
"I'm feeling lucky," Lem said with a grin, and he and Tom both laughed, tromping back down the stairs with the rest of the Brotherhood. Gendry looked to Arya.
"You stay here-"
"Yeah fucking right," she snapped across him, rolling her eyes, and before he could finish, she was rushing down the stairs.
"... With me," Gendry finished feebly. You stay here with me.
But she was already gone. Now there was really only one thing that sounded appealing, and that was getting out of his head. It seemed that beer was in order. Arya was nowhere to be found when he got back downstairs, but he was too tired to care. There was a beer on the table, and he took it, stared at it, and listlessly poured it back. It was flat, cheap and disgusting. He downed two more.
The drinks for them were free, apparently, and he gladly took the shots that Tom, who became very happily intoxicated very fast, gave him. Soon, the world was oozing out of focus, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. There was a pretty girl dancing, Tom was singing, and they were all laughing. Laughing... Laughing...
Gendry looked up and saw Arya. She was sitting at the bar. Alone. That wasn't right. He didn't want her to be alone. She was so sad... So sad...
A man, a fat old man, was sliding up beside her, grabbing at her chest-
"You leave her alone," Gendry said, his head like a dead weight on the man's shoulders, clamping him down. He gave a jump.
"Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" The man asked, trying to pry Gendry's iron grip off his shoulder.
"She's my sister," Gendry said, and he wasn't drunk enough to know how deadly serious he sounded. "Now you get the fuck away from her."
"Your sister?" The man sputtered, suddenly in all haste to leave. "What kind of fucking sick idiot takes his sister here? Fucking bastard."
He waddled away, muttering to himself.
"Why did you say that?" Arya asked, her face red and angry in the dark. "You're not my brother!"
Gendry stumbled backwards. He wasn't her brother. No he wasn't. He had never felt like her brother. And the way she looked at him now... Like he was no better than scum under her feet... Just a fucking dirty bastard like the man had said.
"No," he said drunkenly. "No I'm just white trash, aren't I? Too lowborn for milady high."
He made a bow to her, and she jumped from the chair violently, looking murderous.
"Shut up!" She shouted.
"You shut up," Gendry snapped, clutching the bar for support. "And fuck off. Go back upstairs so I can have a go at that girl with the black hair. I bet she's a screamer."
The look on Arya's face was one of rage, but even through his drunken haze, Gendry saw tears shining in her eyes. What had he done?
"No, Arya-"
She wrenched away from him, and he tried to stagger after her, but he was too drunk, and he fell over, the sound of laughter ringing in his ears, his hands reaching for her. The world swirled over him, and it was too late. Too late. She was already gone.
OooooOOOOOOOoooo
Arya
She sat in the window, a cigarette between her fingers, the smoke drifting out into the inky black night in coils. The world was cold and dark and black, but the moon shone, bathing everything in a silver glow. It was quiet here, by the window. The night sky swirled above her, a dripping mess of stars and glowing grey blue clouds. Outwards there were lights, glittering as far as the eye could see, but it was dark. So dark.
The cool night air washed over her in waves as she took another long, slow drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly. Though the night was still and quiet, there were shrieks of laughter, giggling and groaning coming from inside the building and down on the street below. Below her, Arya could see a woman and a man, talking, laughing, drunk as sailors. At first she had hoped that the woman was Bella, the whore from earlier, but the woman had red hair, not black.
There came a shriek from somewhere inside and then a loud groan. Arya closed her eyes, trying not to think about Gendry. But what if that was Gendry? A little voice in her head said. What if that was Gendry pile driving that black haired tart?
She dug her nails into her arm.
Flinging the cigarette out the window, she hoped off the little table she had been sitting on and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. That took several long minutes, as she hated the taste of smoke in her mouth and on her breath and wanted to rid herself of it. When she was sure she was clean, she ran a hand through her chopped hair, trying not to look at herself in the mirror. She had grown to hate mirrors.
The room was dark and she blinked, her eyes adjusting from the change. She lowered herself down on her mattress, stained with some sort of substance (she didn't want to know what it was). She considered wriggling into her sleeping bag, but she couldn't stand the idea of being warm. Warmth made her skin crawl. She much preferred being cold and numb.
As she lay there, she couldn't help but find her thoughts tangling back to Gendry. What he had said... She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of it. She hated that his words hurt. She hated him.
There was a noise and she looked up to see Gendry coming up the stairs, a beer in his hand and obviously drunk. Have you been fucking her? She wanted to ask, but she remembered that she didn't care. It didn't matter to her. Not a wit.
He set the beer down and pulled off his shirt, the shape of his body glowing silver in the moonlight. She ought to have turned away, but there was something, some other force, that pulled her eyes like gravity up and down the outline of his skin. And then he turned and caught her staring.
"Up are you?" He asked, and his voice was thick and slurred. "It's a bit late, don't you think?"
She didn't answer him, she just glared. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to look at him.
Flopping down, she rolled away from him and into a ball, curling her hands to her chest. Her skin was sharp with cold, her body made of ice. Numb and unfeeling.
But... She felt something. The brush of rough, warm hands, and then the feeling of the slick material of the sleeping bag. She rolled around to see Gendry sitting next to her, pulling the bag around her shoulders.
"You're going to freeze to death," he said, blinking at her.
She sat up, about to throw the blanket off, but she nearly smacked her face with his. She hadn't realized he was so close.
His hand was still burning on her shoulder, and suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest, and she felt a rush that had nothing to do with the cold, and she almost felt sick but it wasn't sick, not really. It was like she was spinning, whirling, and her stomach couldn't quite keep up.
She knew what he was going to do a split second before he did it. She saw something in his eyes shift and change, and then they dusked down to her lips, and he was leaning in, her heart racing faster and faster with every second, and then he kissed her.
She had been kissed before, but it had been completely stupid and pointless. Just moist, uncomfortable lips and saliva. But this was different. This time she didn't want to be kissed just to be kissed.
He tasted of beer and smelled like car grease but it didn't matter. His lips felt like fire against hers, moving in slow, liquid movements. She felt his fingers reach up to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently sliding against hers. It was a different kind of warmth, his body curled against hers, but not one that she minded at all.
They broke apart, both breathing heavily, and Arya could feel her skin tingling all the way to her scalp, as though she had jumped into boiling water. Gendry's eyes were gleaming blue in the dark light, and she gave an involuntary shutter of breath, surprised at the intensity there.
And then it was over.
"I'm sorry," he grunted, shaking his head. "I'm really drunk. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have... You probably..."
Arya felt the cold air swoosh in from the window and settle in her bones. Without saying a word, she turned and curled onto the mattress away from him. Who cares anyway? She reminded herself.
He was just a stupid bastard.