Summary: Gendry tries to find the real Arya Stark.

Gendry

The next night was almost a repeat of the first, except Arya acted more introvert than before. He had seen her in the courtyard that morning, teaching her brother, Rickon how to hold a long bow properly. He smiled as he saw her patience, her silver eyes gleaming and encouraging her small sibling. He had hit the target a few times, each one becoming closer to the centre when three girls had come by.

They were around the same age as Arya, perhaps a year or so younger. They were dressed immaculately, similar to the ladies in the South, all pretty and fake. They glanced at Arya's clothes, seeing her breeches and shirt, the smudge of dirt on her face, the way her hair was tied back. It was then he noticed that they had stopped directly in her and Rickon's way as they tried to practice.

"Ooh look, its Lady Wildling!" A blond haired girl had called mockingly.

"Lady Horseface you mean." Another said, her dark hair piled high on her head in the Southern fashion. He had never heard girls speak to a lady that way before. He noticed that they only spoke in such ways when she was alone.

"Don't you have someone else to go and annoy?" Arya replied, her chin lifting as if she had accepted a challenge.

"As a matter of fact, we were on our way to see Prince Gendry." The first girl said, in a high and grating voice. He would love to know what they wanted to say to him.

"I pity him to have wanted such company." He chuckled under his breath, watching as Arya argued with the other girls.

"Well at least we would be decent company and a welcome sight. Who would want to be around you, a girl who plays with sticks and swords and who dresses as a boy?"

"It's called a lance not a stick." She snapped and Gendry sympathized with Rickon who stood between the arguing women, his large blue eyes innocent and lost as he gripped Arya's hand. "At least I know how to handle one. What do you do all day? Play with sewing needles? How thrilling it must be." Arya scoffed sarcastically.

"It may not be as thrilling as your life Arya Underfoot, but at the end of the day we are accepted as ladies. We are fit for the presence of princes unlike you." The oldest girl murmured, in a voice that was low and cruel. Her eyes were the colour of summer grass but they were as cold as ice. The other girls laughed and she continued. "Who would ever look at you in those dirty clothes? You look less than a daughter of a blacksmith never mind a lord." The girl flicked back her long hair and walked away, her blue dress swishing with the movement. He was tempted to come forward to prove exactly who would look at Arya in those clothes but her voice stopped him.

"Rickon, pass me your bow. I'm going to show you how to hit a moving target." Arya said quietly, aiming at the eldest girls turned back.

Gendry doubted that no matter how angry she was, she wouldn't actually attack the girl. But then again he wasn't sure. Arya altered the angle of her bow, almost to the ground and released the arrow. It hit the back of the girls dress, pinning it to the stony ground. Arya grinned to herself, pleased.

When the girl tried to move again her legs tangled and she fell forward. The girl shrieked as she picked herself up, seeing the mud cover her dress. Her hair was also sodden and filthy, mud clinging to her brown locks. She turned a lethal gaze to Arya who curtsied pleasantly, a sweet smile turning up her lips. Gendry tried to supress a laugh. The sight was uncommonly funny and one he had never expected even from Arya. With that the furious girl strode over to her and Rickon who Arya gently pushed behind her. She leaned in close and whispered something that he was unable to catch. Then it was the girls turn to grin smugly as she wandered off, her head held high. Arya packed up her things and went inside, her face flushed and eyes angry.


Right now, she and Jon were up dancing and Lyanna leaned in close in order to speak into his ear. He had told her what he had witnessed and asked if it played any part in her quiet behaviour tonight. Gendry had also confessed his confusion at why Arya would allow those pompous girls comments to affect her.

"Arya doesn't see herself as we see her." She said softly. "When she was young her brothers and even her sister used to call her names. It never bothered her, but now she is older and recognizes what they said, it gets to her."

Gendry sighed, leaning back in his chair. So that was why Arya had sat in silence all night and looked at him as though he was going to rebuff her. She thought he was comparing her to ladies in Kings Landing, like the girls from this morning. Those that spoke with words they had been taught to say like birds singing tunes only pleasant to the ears. The girls who never spoke out of turn or spoke truthfully scared of being themselves. They dressed in fine silk, danced properly and knew nothing other than court life. How could he possibly prefer them to her?

Lyanna pulled back and he saw the concern for her niece shining in those pale eyes.

"She will be alright My Prince, I assure you."

"For most of my youth I heard stories about a feisty girl with a bad temper and an infectious laugh." Gendry replied with a slow smile. "And I want to meet her." Lady Lyanna laughed.

"I'm sure you shall Prince Gendry, Arya is like that most of the time I promise. Perhaps you should try and speak to her alone tomorrow. She will more likely be herself when she is not surrounded by idiots." At the end Lyanna's gaze dragged over to the three girls that Arya had spoken to.


In the morning Gendry had broken his fast with Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, speaking of his father and Kings Landing, ruling and tournaments. It was mere politeness and nothing of particular importance. But it had sped the morning along.

Once again he headed out to the yard in search of Arya but she was nowhere to be found. The rain had begun late in the night and slammed hard to the ground. But he still heard a grunt and clang of metal. Next to the stables, he could see the forge and a rim of light behind the door. He ran over, being careful when he entered not to make much noise. Arya was practising in the warmth of the forge.

She was wearing tight black breeches that clung to her legs and a dark top that was soaked in sweat. Her back was to him, her hair tied back in a messy plait. In her hand was an unsheathed Needle as she practiced her Water Dance, a sword style of Braavos. She ducked and flipped; she dropped and swung. Her body was agile and spry as she danced. She used her weapon for balance as well as for rehearsing her attacks and blocks.

She used her hands to support and strike her imagined opponents. He watched her in absolute fascination as she panted and performed. He had never seen anything so perfect and the more she moved, the more he saw her beauty. Though her body was small, it was elegantly curved, a small tucked in waist, a lovely flare of hips and a soft swell of her breasts. Her face was delicately pointed with pale unblemished skin, rosy from her exercise. Her eyes were the purest silver, gleaming in the light like Valyrian steel. Before he could continue his ogling she turned and gasped, clutching Needle even tighter.

"Prince Gendry, what are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you." He said plainly, deciding honesty was the best way to go. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why?" She demanded, placing her fists against her hips. Her face glared at him.

"To speak to you, about last night," For a moment, he saw vulnerability shine in those depths before it was squashed. "To say that I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me." He heard the lie though her voice was strong and didn't quiver. He had upset her, for every time he looked up at her at the feast she had nearly flinched. Her eyes had been pools of unshed tears though none could be seen.

"Then what did?" Gendry asked her boldly, and her mouth dropped. He just wanted her back to normal and according to Jon, annoying her was one of the best ways. So was teasing.

"That is none of your business!" She yelled her anger obvious. He should have stepped back and allowed her room to breathe but he didn't. He was stubborn. Jon hadn't named him 'The Bull' for nothing.

"Your aunt told me that your siblings used to call you names." He met her gaze with his own watching as she silently nodded, unsure of how to take his words. He thoughts about what those girls had said to her. "So did mine. They stopped as soon as I got older and bigger than them."

"I'm sure they were all terrified of you. Unlike my siblings who continued relentlessly because I was different from them." She whispered softly, almost to herself.

"I am sorry, but I know-"

"You don't know anything so don't pretend you know me." She growled, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I do know a lot about you Lady Arya, your cousin Jon-"

"Jon has been away for years stupid." Arya said not worried that she had insulted a prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You shouldn't insult people bigger than you."

"Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone." She replied curtly and he chortled. When he had first seen her he had thought her defiant, but now he saw her for how Jon had described. Determined and stubborn meeting whatever came her way with squared shoulders and a witty response.

Before she could sheath Needle he stepped forward and inspected the blade in his hands, seeing how fine the work was.

"This is lovely work." Gendry complimented, feeling the sharp edges and perfect balance.

"It was a gift from Jon for my tenth name-day." Arya replied.

"Yes he told me."

"He did?" She asked, obviously wondering what else he had been told about her. "What else did he say?" Arya pried, her curiosity getting the better of her. He smiled.

"He mentioned that she was becoming more beautiful every day and that she made men's heads turn." Arya laughed nervously as he continued as a light pink spreading across her face. "He also told me that his beloved cousin was becoming one of the best riders of the North along with a fierce swordswoman."

"I can thank my aunt for that. She is the one who has indulged me. My lady mother hates me to play at swords and archery." She said a tint of sadness in her voice. "If she had her way I would be a smaller version of Sansa." She took Needle from his hands and placed it in the engraved scabbard that hung from her hips.

"Is that why you practice in here?" He asked, finding himself wanting to hear her voice again. She returned her silver gaze to his.

"Yes, Mikken- our blacksmith- is kind. He knows that if I train in the yard Septa Mordane will find me and drag me off to sewing or some other stupid lady thing." She grumbled. He was fascinated by her rant, listening to the way she described things was totally unlike anything he had heard from a lady before.

"I used to want to kill Sansa when she dressed me up or swanned around proudly in the new dresses she made." He chuckled and she sighed thoughtfully. "I suppose I was very different from her and my lady mother… even from my aunt Lyanna."

"There is nothing wrong with that." Gendry replied, seeing her mouth twitch upwards. He liked her just as she was and so did Jon and Lyanna. He liked the way she was unique to those around her, questioning everything. Arya was quiet for a long time, seeming to gaze into nothing before she glanced back up at him.

"I suppose I should apologise for my tardiness for the feast that was in your honour last night."

"Not at all my lady, though I am a little surprised that you remembered who I was." She snorted.

"It wasn't difficult. Everyone had been talking about your arrival for days. I thought that my mother would never stop." Arya complained, her voice verging on a chuckle. "I don't know why there were so worked up about you, when I first heard I thought you would be coming with over a hundred guards and servants but no." She noted, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him. He was sure other things had been said about him too but she didn't elaborate any further.

"I did not need them besides more men attract more attention. Jon and I could handle the Kings Road." Gendry answered her and she nodded at his words, sensing the logic behind them. Then suddenly she smiled, her full lips curling up. She was lovely when she smiled.

"So you have had sword training?" She asked and he chuckled at her question, liking the way she challenged him even in such a small matter.

"Not in the Braavosi Water Dance my lady but yes." Something shone in her eyes and it looked like disappointment. "Did it truly take you two years to learn it?"

"Yes, it was a lot of work involved. But it was worth it, I beat everyone now." She said with pride.

"Is that so? Then I would like to challenge you a duel Lady Arya." Gendry replied with a low bow. She laughed at him, her voice filled with genuine amusement. Gods, he loved that sound.

"I warn you, fighting me may get you injured… unless I hold back." She frowned at the thought.

"Hold nothing back."

"Very well Prince Gendry, I accept your challenge."