Summary: A beauty is revealed.
Gendry
Gendry watched Arya leave as Lady Catelyn stared after her in fury and embarrassment. Her face was red and drawn as her jaw clenched.
"Lady Catelyn, it was my fault." He posed to her, watching as she listened to his words. "I asked Arya to duel with me." Gendry tried to explain and he saw a little of her anger die.
"May that be, she should not be fighting boys in the dirt. Arya forgets herself Your Grace; she forgets that she is actually a Lord's daughter. I ask for your pardon on her behalf."
Though Gendry felt twinges of guilt in his stomach at getting Arya into trouble, it was outweighed with astonishment at her mother's reaction. She truly hated her youngest daughter being anything other than ladylike. He should have been pleased that she didn't want her daughter to act like that, but it didn't. It caused sadness to swell within him as he knew then that Arya would forever be forced to behave in the manner expected of her. She would never be allowed to be herself, in fear of embarrassing her family.
"Lady Stark there is nothing to forgive. Please, do not be angry with Lady Arya as the blame lies with me." After all, he was the one who had her pinned beneath him.
"I suppose so. I shall have to be much firmer with her. I thought that it was a phase she was going through, but apparently not. It appears she has the wolf-blood, much like her aunt."
With her words, Lady Catelyn disappeared out of the forge. He followed, enjoying the feeling of the cold rain on his skin. Arya had exhausted him and he was now feeling the consequence of sparring with her so vigorously. He had loved the way she moved, so deadly and accurate her lithe body springing into action moments before his blade struck her. Her silvery eyes had gleamed pure and brilliant in the dim forge while she studied him. They had shone with pride when she had defeated him, grinning triumphantly as Needle rested in the hollow column of his throat.
She had been dirty and sweat had sheened on her skin, yet no one had ever looked more beautiful to him. He had seen hundreds of highborn women at court and in Kings Landing, all perfect with their pleasant words and perfume scents. But it was Arya that excited him, Arya with her rebellious nature and threatening tone of voice. Jon's stories of his Winterfell home had intrigued him as they grew up together. He had listened eagerly whenever Jon mentioned his favourite younger cousin. He had always spoken so wistfully, and Gendry had known that he had missed the girl. But it was only now Gendry knew why.
She wasn't like anyone he had ever met before and she was certainly unlike all the girls in court. Laid under him as she had been, he had felt every plane of her body, every soft angle. He had loved the light weight of her, as she seemed to fit against him so perfectly. He had also seen a searing irritation that had flashed in her eyes when he had pinned her with his bulk. But then as she gazed up at him the look changed into something hotter, something that burned. He could have sworn it was longing. Her whole face had softened, regarding him as though he were the only thing she could see. Then in a blink it had gone, as though she had convinced herself otherwise. Did she think that she was undesirable?
Lost in his thoughts, Gendry washed and changed in a daze, not really noticing anything as he walked down to the Great Hall until Jon came up beside him, a grin stuck on his face.
"You must tell me everything! I could hear Lady Catelyn screaming at Arya when I was in the stables!"
"We duelled in the forge and her lady mother found us. That is it." Gendry chuckled, his mind reliving those moments spent alone with Arya.
"That's it?" Jon asked, his eyes scrutinizing Gendry's face as if he didn't believe a word of it. He laughed at him.
They walked into the room his eyes immediately sought the dark-haired beauty he had fought with, and he found her sat on the high table, smirking at her aunt despite the fact she wore a green dress. Her mother spoke to her father, her eyes still sparkling with a rage that he had caused. They made their way to the table and Jon resumed the same seat he had the night previous. Gendry stopped before Lady Catelyn.
"I apologise again Lady Stark, I did not mean any harm." He said solemnly, bowing his head to her in respect. Her chin tilted upwards reminding him of Arya.
"Be that as it may Your Grace, my daughter must learn her place." Lord Eddard said for his lady wife, his voice calm and level, leaving no room for argument.
"She overlooks who she is and that she must honour not only herself, but her family also." Gendry felt at a loss as he made his way to his seat. Lyanna leaned behind Jon to grin at him.
"My niece tells me that she beat you in a duel."
"She did indeed my lady; I admit that I am grateful to not be limping." He smirked as Jon patted Arya on the back as she choked on a gulp of wine. "I shall have to improve to even consider challenging her again."
After that he ate and drank in silence, listening to the tense atmosphere at the other end of the table. He could hear Lady Catelyn arguing with old Lord Rickard Stark and he wondered what it was about. Then she stormed out of the hall, her husband almost chasing after her. Arya and Jon dimly noticed and Lady Lyanna groaned, her eyes darting to her lord father. His face was set in stone, an unreadable mask. For some reason it made Gendry nervous and to distract himself, he asked Arya to dance with him. Jon had sniggered until she hit him on the arm and he had then had the grace to be quiet.
As he and Arya moved in time to the music his eyes moved to see Lyanna smile tenderly at him before she leaned into her father but he didn't share that smile. He said something to his daughter that caused her to huff in anger.
He and Arya separated; swapping partners and then came back together again all in time with the cheery song. That moment Arya's palms pressed to his and they turned and he found himself staring down at her. She was radiant. Her silver eyes shone in the candlelight. Her hair had been combed and sections of it were weaved. Her gown was a pale green, elegantly made to fit her body perfectly. He cleared his throat, breaking out of his stare.
"I thought you hated dresses." Gendry teased unable to stop himself. Arya shrugged.
"I do, but I feared angering my lady mother further." She said lightly, not showing any fear at all. Gendry felt a wave of pride, pleased that she didn't cower before her parents or anyone else.
"Why are you grinning like that?" Arya asked him, her eyes twinkling.
"Honestly, I am not sure…" He answered her, seeing the disbelief in her silver gaze. "Though it may have something to do with the knowledge that I need more sword practice."
"Well that is a coincidence. Maybe I shall in the Godswood tomorrow night." He laughed. The invitation for him to join her was too obvious.
Lyanna
Lyanna watched as her niece and Gendry danced together. They were locked in discussion, their eyes only on each other as they moved around gracefully. Lyanna was surprised that her niece had accepted the Prince's request to dance, but then perhaps they had wanted to talk alone. There really wasn't any place for a quiet discussion at the high table. Arya's lips turned up at something he had said before they separated again. She really was pretty when she smiled.
Lyanna's chest filled with hope as she studied them together. Their bodies were close once more, closer than the other couples who danced with them. Their hands were touching, which wasn't a part of the routine. Gendry's deep blue eyes stared down at Arya as if she were the only thing in the room.
It was true that she looked very much a lady tonight, dressed in a pastel shade of emerald that contrasted her lovely hair and silver eyes. There was a spark in her gaze that Lyanna rarely saw; only when Arya felt free did she have that look. It was the same when they went riding, or when she escaped her sewing lessons. But it was more than that. Even in the dim light of the candles her niece seemed to glow. Her cheeks had the faintest rose tint of a blush which was again caused by something Gendry had said to her, or perhaps it was the look in his eyes. Lyanna couldn't pin it directly, but was that a glimmer of lust she saw in those sapphire depths?
Her mind replayed the scene of Lady Catelyn yelling at Arya. She had screamed and paced in her chambers, her face red with an anger that Lyanna had never seen before. Instantly she had wanted to defend her niece, surely she hadn't done anything so bad to be raged at so much.
"Lady Catelyn, what in the Seven Hells has happened?" She had looked to Arya whose face had a guilty flush and she kept her eyes trained on the floor.
"I just discovered my daughter laid in the dirt beneath Prince Gendry, not moments ago." Lyanna's mouth had dropped. That was a little unseemly even for her niece.
"What were you thinking Arya? Do you know how it looked? He is a prince!" Catelyn screeched.
"We were duelling." Arya said softly, daring a peep at her mother through her long lashes.
"That didn't look like duelling Arya, nor was it sparring or whatever else you call it. In any case you shouldn't be doing it. In the names of the Gods you are a lord's daughter!" She had begun pacing again, her determined strides eating up the distance in the small room.
"Mother he came to me. I was practising alone and then he walked in and-"
"No more excuses Arya."
"I'm not lying I swear it." She was being honest. Arya never lied. But her mother wasn't standing for it.
"And no more duelling or I shall take Needle from you." Arya's eyes had widened in shock. Her most prized possession, her beautiful blade that had been given as a gift was threatened to be taken from her.
"No!"She yelled in defiance and then gulped, knowing what was at stake. "I won't do it again. I'll behave, I promise. I'll wear dresses and try harder in sewing, and I'll even attend proper dance tutorials. Please don't take Needle. Please."
Catelyn had stared down at her for a long time, her Tully eyes dimming as her anger died away. Though Lyanna knew that Arya would keep her promises (and would complain at every opportunity), she wouldn't truthfully give up duelling. She loved it too much. Yet she didn't doubt that her niece would be more cautious and wouldn't get caught again.
Lyanna smiled at the thought and turned to address her father but he wouldn't care either way. He saw Arya as a bargaining tool to create alliances with other houses; just as he had envisioned her to be. She sighed as pushed those unwelcome memories aside, taking in the Great Hall once more.
It was lovely, decorated with Baratheon and Stark banners. The sounds of music and scents of glorious food filled the air. She then inspected the guests who sat at the other tables. Lyanna chuckled to herself as she saw the three girls at the opposite end of the room. Their faces were still a ménage of stunned expressions as they took in Arya and Gendry.
The tallest of the group, Jeyne Poole could only gawk when Arya had entered the Great Hall. Lyanna had laughed when Gendry had passed her without even sparing a glimpse, for his eyes were solely for her niece. Jeyne glared out at the room, watching them carefully as she muttered comments to the shorter girl by her side. She had no idea what the girl was saying though she would have guessed it was something cruel. Lyanna wanted to dare her to speak out, for there was no way that Arya could be called a 'wildling' tonight. She truly was Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.
