Five Times Gendry Reminds Arya of Home and One Time He Doesn't
The Third: Jon
Alright, so I finished the paper I had to write and figured it was time for the next installment of this fic, I'm so glad it's gotten such a great response! Keep the comments and kudos coming; it is fuel for me to continue with this. I'm so humbled by all of this. This chapter goes out to all of my Sisters (you know who you are) thank you for making me get my paper done and being such lovely people. For your kindness have some Gendry feels!
Note: These drabbles are set in a random time frame where Arya and Gendry are traveling around by themselves/in Harrenhal/with Hot Pie/etc. just because I don't want to be specific because parts might appear in some form later in different stories.
Long days on the road had made it nearly impossible for Gendry to remember how to act in proper civilization. In all honesty he realizes that he probably wouldn't even remember his name if Arya had not been travelling with him, calling his name every so often in her sleep. He sighed and shifted from foot to foot, staring at the small town in front of them.
"Will you calm down?" Arya snapped, looking sideways at him from their position where they hid at the tree line near the edge of the village.
"I don't think this is a good idea." He rumbled, glancing down at her as he leaned against a tree and she ducked behind a bush. He could see in the way she crouched that she was tense, perched on the balls of her feet, hand gripping a branch to steady herself, her eyes fixed on the movement of smoke coming out from the chimney of the inn.
She jumped as a cat flashed across the road and disappeared down an alley, then sighed and shifted her position, rolling back to sit on her haunches. She began drawing meaningless patterns in the dirt on the ground.
"Well, are we going?" Gendry asked after a moment.
Arya stood up, stretched her back and nodded once, her back straight as an arrow.
"You know what to do when we get in there, right?" Arya asked as she took a step forward and broke out from the tree line, stepping into the sunlight. The sun glinted off her greasy, spiky hair.
"Right," Gendry said, breathing anxiously through his nose and he stepped out into the setting sun behind her. As she began to walk forward he followed solemnly, as if there was a string pulling him to her, keeping them on the same track. When they reached the front of the inn Arya put her hand on the door and turned to look over her shoulder at him. He was standing a few paces back but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. He gave a short, curt nod. She parroted the movement and pushed the door open. Gendry stepped over the threshold, looking back over his shoulder before closing the door behind them.
Inside it was dark and loud, Gendry automatically quickened his pace so that he wouldn't loose Arya in the crowd. She threw an annoyed look at him and he shrugged, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep contact, but making sure not to lead her anywhere, he didn't want to get into a fight with her in front of all these people. Looking around Gendry noticed several eyes were following their progress as they weaved around bar stools and round tables full of disheveled men.
When they reached the bar counter Arya climbed nimbly onto a bar stool as Gendry stood behind, a towering presence. He crossed his arms and drew himself up to his full height. A man sitting on the bar stool next to Arya leered up at him with interest, but thought better of speaking to him. The plump woman behind the counter had rosy cheeks and an air about her that seemed distinctly harassed. When she made her way to their end of the bar she looked Arya up and down.
"'Ello, sweetie, what can I do for you?" She put her hands on her hips and smiled. Gendry noticed she was missing a tooth or two.
"My brother and I need a room for the night, plus a hot meal," Arya paused, bit her lip, and then said in a rush of breath, "and two baths."
Gendry smirked from behind her, humored by her annoyance at the need to feel at least a bit cleaner; river water didn't do much to wash the mud from you. Gendry realized they must look quite rough, he couldn't even remember how long they'd been on the road. Both of them were covered in dirt, it smeared their shirts and faces. He could spy twigs and pieces of leaves stuck in Arya's hair and imagined his didn't look much better. One of his shirt sleeves was clumsily ripped off and the wound that Arya had sewn up was still healing, the flesh a messy tangle of leather and blood and flesh.
The innkeeper appraised Arya, her eyes raking over her small body, and then she took in Gendry. "You and your brother, eh?" She said, sucking in a breath between the gaps in her mouth.
Arya nodded.
"Names?"
Arya dropped her eyes, "Arry and Gendry."
"Yer surnames?"
"Waters," Arya said looking back up. This had all been part of the plan: two bastard brothers travelling together; nothing to raise suspicion. Turned out they were right, the woman made no comment.
"Got the gold?"
Arya dropped an intricately sewn silk bag on the counter; it didn't have much in it but enough for a room, two meals, and baths. Arya had picked it off the man they had killed, the one who had cut Gendry's arm. The woman swiped it off the counter and counted the coins; occasionally she'd look up and when she did Gendry found himself trying to look as menacing as possible. He assumed it was working for she stowed the bag in the cleavage of her dress.
"Right, up the stairs, first door on the left is yours. Bath across the hall." She jerked her head to the staircase.
"Thank you," Gendry said, as Arya hopped of the bar stool. His voice sounded strange and gruff, he hadn't spoken to anyone but Arya in what felt like years. He put his hand on Arya's shoulder; he could see she was stiff with tension. She shrugged him off violently, he heard the innkeeper laugh.
"I'm going to bathe. Wait here." She snapped and started up the stairs with their small bag full of a change of clothes for each of them and a few pieces of stale bread.
"Oi! I'm not your dog," Gendry called up the stairs after her.
She turned and answered, "no stupid, you're a bloody bull." She disappeared up the corridor.
He shook his head and turned around, finding a seat in a corner at a small rickety table. He had to push his foot under one of the legs to stop it from wobbling. It felt like forever that Gendry sat there staring moodily at the people around him. No one seemed to pay him any attention, just like they had his whole life. Gendry the Bull, Gendry Waters the Bastard. He'd never had someone pay attention to him, no one to rely on him; even his Master hadn't cared an inkling, sending him off to the wall with nothing more than a pat on the back and a nod of the head.
It didn't mean anything to Gendry, being sent off to the wall, he had no one to miss and no one to miss him. But now, he knew what companionship felt like and he grew restless without Arya beside him, he couldn't stop imagining everything that could happen with her all alone without him there. Gendry was no fool, he knew Arya could handle herself, but it was still unsettling to leave her for long periods of time. He munched on the food that had been laid out before them, trying to focus on not looking too anxious. They were just two travelers on the road together, nothing to be suspicious of.
He sighed in relief when she finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She looked around from him, standing on the tips of her toes to try and see over the crowd. He watched her for a moment with morbid curiosity; his mind cruelly wondering what she would do if she thought he had gone. She had begun to look around a bit more frantically now. He saw her eyes scanning the crowd, her face was smooth as marble but those wide, silver eyes were jumping from one face to the other with a desperateness that made his heart clench.
He rose from his seat, and in doing so immediately attracted her eye. Her whole body leaned forward as if she were preparing to sprint towards him. He saw her mouth his name as relief flooded her face and she quickly dove into the crowd, weaving in and out of people. When she reached Gendry she slumped in her seat and tore a large bite off of the leg of lamb laid in front of them. Gendry watched her eat her fill, studying her. Her hair had grown and was now hanging down almost in her eyes and soft curls touched her shoulders, she wouldn't be able to pull off a boy much longer. Not with those big, soulful eyes and small nose dotted in freckles that he could see even in the dim light of the inn, with her face scrubbed clean. Or maybe he could only see them because he knew they were there.
She stopped eating and swallowed. "Need something?" she quipped in annoyance.
"Hmm?"
"Why are you staring at me?"
He blinked, "I was not."
"Yes you were, you looked like you've been starving and I was a fat pig." She tore off another bite, greasy fingers fumbling with the white bone.
"Keep eating like that and maybe you'll turn into a pig." He snapped, annoyed that she'd caught him looking at her.
She smiled smugly at him.
The innkeeper came over again to refill their mugs. The mead she had given Gendry before had been sweet and warmed his bones but he put his hand over the lid of his cup, he could not afford to loose his senses in this dangerous, unfamiliar place.
"Oi, Bastard, you paid for the drink, let me refill it for you!" The innkeeper insisted, winking at him and moving her hips suggestively. "Just another little drink," she tried to wrest the cup from his grip. Arya watched warily.
"No," Gendry growled, "and don't call me that."
"Call you what? Bastard?" the woman sneered, withdrawing. Realizing her seductive efforts had failed she felt affronted. "Bastard? Is that what you don't like? Because that is what you are. Bastard." Spit flew from between the gap in her teeth, squeezed between the gum and her tongue. It landed on his cheek. He stood up from his chair, as it toppled over it seemed as if all sound in the inn had stopped.
"Don't. Call. Me. That." He snarled and anger flashed in his eyes. Suddenly he felt a presence beside him, Arya was there and her small hands were gripping his wrist.
"Come on, Gendry, let's go." She tugged a bit.
He yanked himself from her.
"Aw, look how the bastard listens to the little girl," the innkeeper cooed and several of the men laughed.
"Stop," Gendry growled, his fist curling into a ball. The innkeeper laughed louder.
"Look boys, he's such a gentleman, not going to hit a lady. The bastard has honor!" Her guffaw struck him through to the bone, like the jolt of hitting a sword wrong on an anvil with a hammer. She opened her ugly mouth to speak again but before any words came out, Arya had sprung forward and punched the blonde straight in the teeth. As she reeled back, shaking her fist from the impact she spat angrily at the hag.
"Shut up."
The woman looked stunned, her hand cupping her bloody mouth. When she drew her hand away, a shiny white pearl lay in it. "You knocked out one of my teeth."
"Good, they were uneven anyway." Arya spun around and stalked through the silent crowd. When she disappeared, Gendry snapped out of his fury and followed after her, the sea of people parted for him without hesitation.
He followed her up the stairs to the small room that had been given to them. She stormed in angrily, leaving the door flung open behind her as Gendry followed her in, closing the door and locking it. She sat in the window sill, drawing her knees up to her chin. Gendry sat at the end of the small bed with his head in his hands, running his fingers through his still dirty hair.
Suddenly he felt gentle hands tugging at his black locks, he let his hands fall between his knees, looking at the top of Arya's thighs as she kneeled before him and ran her fingers against his scalp. "You know, one of my brothers was a bastard."
Gendry looked up, and her hands fell away. He wanted to ask her to place them back but the moment had been broken. His blue eyes met her grey ones and searched them, he could only see honesty. "Oh?" Was his articulate reply.
She nodded. "Jon, he was about the same age as Robb. He was my favorite. Remember the sword that I used to have? The one you asked me about that one time?"
He nodded mutely.
"He gave it to me before he left, he lives on the Wall now. One day, I'm going to go see him. Perhaps live on the Wall with him, take the words of the Night Watch." Arya looked down at her hands and laughed. "At least, that's what I used to tell myself, when I was younger."
Still so young, he thought to himself as he watched her.
"Jon told me something that Tyrion Lannister told him once. Wear your name like armour, and then no one can hurt you with it." She looked up and smiled at him.
He pursed his lips back, shrugging his shoulders.
She sprung at him suddenly and before he could react she had wrapped her arms around his middle and he realized she was hugging him and not attacking him. He slowly put his arms around her shoulders, when he had encircled her in his arms she squeezed him tighter. He rested his cheek on her hair, it smelled slightly of roses, but still strongly of dirt.
"It doesn't matter," she said, squeezing him again, "my father never thought it did, and I don't think so either." She buried her nose in the side of his neck.
"Thank you," he whispered quietly.
"He was my favorite, I miss him." Arya sniffed a bit and Gendry felt something hot and moist on his neck and he realized she was crying. He shifted his position, lifting her up without breaking their hug, she realized what he was doing and curled her legs up so that she was cuddled in his lap. He bent his head down towards her belly as her arms encircled his ribcage. She snuggled down into his lap, his hair brushing her hip where he hung his head.
She was so young and so small, and had lost so much. His heart hurt to think about it, to think about all the people she'd lost all her brothers and father, and he wondered if he would ever be enough for her.
"Never leave me," she whispered after a minute.
He straightened up and looked down into her moist eyes, flickering in the dim light. "Never," he swore.