A/N: Yay, I've finally made it with another update. Thank you for sticking with me, I know I'm being infuriatingly slow.
Last chapter's lyrics were: 'you live for the fight when it's all that you've got' from Livin' On A Prayer, Bon Jovi. Congrats to Everyones Hero, , Momac16, & KachinaGirl for finding it.
This Chapter has a lyric from a Seether song (just when you thought I couldn't get more random lol) Hope you enjoy, sorry again for the delay.
xBx
Chapter 15: Gendry
Gendry stood, transfixed. The entire room was silent, so quiet you could hear the blood still dripping from Ser Ilyn's neck into a pool on the floor. The fight hadn't been particularly bad; there was less opposition than he had anticipated, though their skills were certainly great. At the sound of the commotion, the two white cloaks stationed outside the door had tried to enter, but Harwin had secured it well on his re-entrance. Now he, Lommy and Harwin stood, battered and bruised, watching Arya as she slit Cersei Lannister's throat. The blood spurted into her face, but Arya didn't flinch, just watched as the life left the former Queen's eyes. Arya was soaked; when taking Ser Ilyn's head, the blood had sprayed in every direction, covering Gendry as well as dousing Arya, with the addition of Cersei's blood, her gown was now more crimson than grey.
Lannister Crimson Gendry thought, and then couldn't stop himself from letting out a small laugh at the irony. Harwin and Lommy looked at him strangely, but Arya didn't move, though Gendry could she her shoulders heaving as she breathed heavily.
Sheathing his sword, he moved towards her. "Arya," he said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder - the left shoulder, as her right still had an arrow protruding from it.
Arya looked up at him, her eyes still ablaze with the anger yet to dissipate, it was mesmerising. When they had first entered the room, her eyes were like ice, but barely five minutes ago, as she raised the sword above Ser Ilyn's head, her eyes were sparkling with the adrenaline of the fight. And after the conversation about Ice her eyes had burned with anger, like they once used to do; it was a relief to still see the fire burning - his Arry was slowly coming back.
"Arya," Gendry repeated. "It's done, are you all right?"
Arya nodded, "I'm fine. You?"
"A few cuts and bruises, nothing to complain about," Gendry assured her.
"Harwin, Lommy?" Arya looked around him, checking on the others.
"We're alive, Princess," Harwin assured her, while he hunched slightly over and rubbed his ribs. Lommy nodded, holding a rag he had clearly torn from his tunic, against his upper arm. Arya placed her dagger back at her waist and moved to retrieve Needle that was still sitting it Cersei's midriff. She stumbled slightly as she moved forward and Gendry gripped her upper arm to keep her steady.
"You can't be fine, milady," Gendry pressed with a frown. "You have an arrow through your shoulder, you're losing blood-" he clutched her elbow as she began to sway slightly on the spot, "-and you look close to passing out."
"Shall I go find Maester Mathos, Princess?" Lommy asked, coming forward.
Arya shook her head as she wiped her blade and replaced it in her sheath, "No. Not yet, I'll manage. There is still a battle going on outside these walls - we need to convince Tommen to surrender first."
Arya moved to the door leading to the throne room, Gendry keeping close. He had removed his hand from her arm, but he was determined to be close enough to grab hold should she stumble once more. Gendry ripped a strip from his tunic as he went, frowning at the blood soaking through Arya's dress where the dagger had entered her.
"Well, at least let me bandage your arm to try and stop the bleeding," he persisted.
Arya looked back at Gendry, and he knew he was wearing his stubborn face, then looked down at her arm.
"Fine," she sighed, giving in for probably the first time in her life.
Gendry wasted no time in wrapping the wound - it wasn't brilliant, certainly not the work of a Maester, but it was tight and secure, and would be better than nothing.
"Where's the Grand Maester?" Arya asked suddenly as she reached for the door, once Gendry was done.
"He disappeared through the small door halfway through the fight," Gendry said. "Are you sure you want to do this now?"
"I have to do his now," Arya smiled a tired smile at him. Gendry rolled his eyes - she called him a stubborn bull, but she was the stubborn one really.
"Then let's do it quickly so we can get you fixed up sooner rather than later," Harwin suggested, coming up behind them and clearly sharing in Gendry's concern for their leader.
Gendry opened the door for Arya and allowed her to pass through before him. Tommen was sat upon the Iron Throne, with Margaery sat by his feet. The giant of a man, whom Arya had named as the Mountain, stood behind them, his hand on his blade. Brent and Florey were stood on either side of the throne, and two more members of the Kingsguard sat on the stone steps under the throne. As the foursome entered, the sitting pair rose and moved their hands to their swords.
"There will be no need to draw steel," Arya told them patiently as they moved towards them. "I will not harm anyone in this room." Despite the strength and conviction in her tone, Gendry heard the undercurrent of breathlessness – whatever she may pretend Arya's, injuries were starting to take their toll on her.
Margaery stood, taking in Arya's dress and it's recent colour change. "The others?" She asked in a shaky voice. "What happened?"
"They fought, and they lost," Arya said simply, coming up the stone steps. Gendry made sure to keep a step behind her, watching the others out of the corner of his eye for any signs of steel being drawn.
"You have an arrow in your shoulder," Tommen pointed out the obvious, with a childlike innocence.
Arya grimaced, and eased herself down to sit at the foot of he throne, "yes, and it hurts like the seven hells. Tommen, do you know what's happening here?" She asked gently.
Tommen looked up at Margaery for a moment then back down at Arya and slowly shook his head. "Not really, no," he said slowly.
Gendry really couldn't believe this boy was King of the Seven Kingdoms, and had been for a few years; he was more of a child than Gendry had imagined, he wasn't surprised he didn't understand. Back in the council chamber, before he had been ushered from the room, Tommen had had an almost stroppy countenance of entitlement – he was a King, he knew he was a King, and therefore knew everyone was there to cater to his whims, and this had made him seem a little bit older. Now, however, he had shrunk down to a young child – younger than his years. As Arya talked, Gendry, Lommy and Harwin were keeping a close watch on the others in the room.
"Tommen, you need to surrender," Arya said bluntly. "Aegon and his men, along with my men, are currently fighting your city watch, and private armies. Lives are being lost - you can stop that. You are too young to rule-"
"My council," Tommen said meekly.
"Your council is no more," Arya told him gently. "Half fled after you left the room, the rest fought and lost."
"You killed them," Tommen said, looking like he was about to cry. Gendry really hoped he didn't, this situation was uncomfortable enough, without a crying King.
"I'm sorry Tommen, but it was either them or us, and I will not be dying today. But no one else needs to die - you can end it, now. It's time to wave the white flag and surrender."
Gendry's eyes flickered between Tommen and Arya. She was so calm; the anger was all gone from her eyes now, instead she was sympathetic and consoling.
"My mother?" Tommen asked quietly and Margaery place a hand on his shoulder - she knew what was about to be said.
Arya too a deep breath, but didn't avoid Tommen's eyes - Gendry was impressed, he didn't think he could have done that.
"I'm so sorry Tommen," Arya whispered. "Your mother chose to fight, a brave choice, but ultimately her last."
Now, Tommen did start to cry, and Gendry wasn't the only one to shuffle uncomfortably. Arya however, continued to talk without even a hint of unease.
"Aegon Targaryen will make his way to the throne room eventually. How soon, and how many have to die in the process, is up to you. Surrender; send one of your Kingsguard out to surrender - no harm will come to you, not ever, I promise you. Only you can end the battle going on outside."
Since their entry into the Throne Room, Gendry was conscious of the sounds of battle growing louder; the fighting was getting closer. Tommen gave a panicked look at each of his Kingsguard and Margaery - it was obvious that he didn't have a clue what to do; he was far too young for this.
"Margaery," Arya spoke again. "You are his voice of reason now, he has no one else. Tell him that to surrender is the only thing he can do now."
Margery looked down at Tommen and sighed, "I don't know what else to do Tommen. We could keep fighting, but I don't know if we'd win."
Before Tommen could answer the doors to the throne room burst open and instantly every armed man drew their swords to face the newcomer. Jaime Lannister's white cloak billowed around him in his haste to reach the Iron Throne, completely heedless of the number of swords unsheathed around him – swords that were now being warily lowered as every man appraised the other, making sure that lowering their steel would not make them vulnerable.
"Tommen-" Ser Jaime started, sounding breathless and strained.
"Is perfectly fine and safe," Arya finished for him, effectively drawing his attention from the boy on the throne to woman sat at its feet.
Ser Jaime stopped suddenly, his eyes landing on Arya and displaying surprise – almost alarm – and then flicking to her side to rest on Gendry, at which he gave a humourless laugh.
"Did I die on my way here?" He asked at no one in particular. "Am I now in some cruel world the Gods set by for me alone, where I get to relive my life how it would have been had Robert married the woman he was destined to? But if that were true," Ser Jaime continued, more to himself. "Tommen would not be sat on the throne."
"You are not dead, Ser Jaime," Arya told him. "This man beside me is not Robert Baratheon, and I am not Lyanna Stark – but I forgive you the mistake, it seems to be a common occurrence at present. This is Sir Gendry, of Hollow Hill," Arya introduced. "Myself, you have already met long ago, I am of course Arya Stark."
Ser Jaime stared at Arya for moment, betraying no emotion or reaction at that statement. And then suddenly he laughed, laughed and shook his head in mild disbelief.
"I've had someone out looking for you for years – gods know where she's gone. But what a redundant plan that was. Who was to know you would find me."
No one made any comment, and a moment later Ser Jaime sobered once more and rearranged his features into a look of controlled boredom.
"You have an arrow in your shoulder," he commented to Arya as he moved toward the throne.
"Yes, and people keep reminding me of it every so often."
"It needs to come out,"
"I am aware of that, thank you."
"Are you planning to remove it anytime soon."
"Just as soon as Tommen surrenders."
"Ah," Ser Jaime smiled and stopped at the foot of the steps. "And what makes you think he should?"
"What makes you think he shouldn't? The rightful King is outside these walls, coming ever closer."
"My father was King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name," Tommen spoke up then, sounding petulant. "That makes me the rightful king."
Arya's eyes never left Jaime's as she repeated softly, "his father was King Robert Baratheon." She continued to look at Ser Jaime a moment longer; she then glanced over her shoulder at Tommen, before returning her gaze to Ser Jaime with a significant look. She then glanced at Gendry, looking him up and down, clearly taking in his appearance, and he couldn't help but shift, slightly uncomfortable at the penetration of her gaze. She then looked back at Tommen, as if comparing the two before finally resting her eyes on Jaime once more, this time with a knowing – and very cold – smile.
"There is certainly a son of Robert Baratheon in the room, and I think we all know he is," Arya announced quietly.
Ser Jaime's face was stone for a moment, but eventually he gave sniff of laughter, but refused to speak.
"It is past time for surrender," Arya repeated, a sudden strength returning to her voice. "Many a man has already lost his life – on both sides. Tommen's council is entirely broken up – half fled, half dead. It's time to end it. And sooner rather than later – the fighting is coming closer, if it does not stop before it passes through those doors, I cannot guarantee anyone's safety in here. No one can control the bloodlust of others."
"Cersei?" Jaime asked, betraying nothing with his voice, but his eyes showed some emotion.
"She did not flee," Arya said quietly after a moment. Jaime looked at Tommen then and nodded, clearly resigned.
"Uncle Jaime?" Tommen's voice betrayed his fear once more at the reminder of the peril waiting just outside the castle.
"It's time to surrender. It seems the sun has finally set on the Lannister's reign," He said quietly, resigned – and Gendry thought he could sense some relief in his voice.
"Send them out-" he gestured the two White Cloaks who had originally been stationed outside the council chamber "-to sound a retreat."
Tommen nodded at the two guards, signalling them to do as Ser Jaime had suggested and they left immediately.
"Now what?" Tommen asked.
"Now we wait," Arya said. "And while we do, Tommen, there is something I would ask of you. As I understand it you have a sword; it was given to Joffrey before you, and is made of Valyrian steel."
Tommen nodded, "It's in my bed chamber – Mother said I wasn't to wear it yet; it was too big for me and the scabbard scraped along the ground when I walked."
"There is another one like it, apparently it was given to you Ser Jaime," Arya looked at him and he nodded.
"Your point being?"
"I want them back."
"It's mine," Tommen whined, and Arya returned her attention to him.
"Those swords were made from one Greatsword. My father's Greatsword, Ice. It has belonged to the Starks since it was first forged, it belongs to me and I want it back."
There was silence for a moment, which was finally broken by Ser Jaime.
"You have no need for it Tommen, and she tells the truth of it. You will see it is returned to her when all this is over."
Tommen fell into a sulk, but did not say a word, as Arya turned to Jaime.
"And your sword, Ser Jaime? When will I expect to receive that?"
"I would return it to you if I could, - believe me, I never wanted that sword, and the way it was begotten was wrong. But I don't have it, I gave to Lady Brienne of Tarth," he admitted and Gendry frowned – that name seemed familiar, and as the memories came slowly back he thought he may know where this sword ended up.
"When your mother released me, and sent me back to King's Landing, she did so on the promise that I would return you and your sister to her," Jaime continued. "Lady Brienne was my travel companion. Of course, when I finally made it here, you and Sansa were long gone. And so, I gave the sword to Brienne, and tasked her to fulfil my promise to your mother – but your mother died before the promise could be fulfilled, and now Brienne has disappeared, along with the sword you seek."
Arya was silent for a moment, and then nodded, "I believe you."
Ser Jaime looked surprised. "So easily?" He questioned. "I would have thought you to be more suspicious."
Arya smiled, another cold smile, "I am very suspicious, Ser Jaime especially of a Lannister. But I know when people are lying to me - it is a skill I have learnt well. My readily accepting your story has nothing to do with me being a fool, and everything to do with you being easy to read."
"Brienne of Tarth is dead," Harwin spoke for the first time, drawing everyone's attention to him. "She was hanged years ago by Lady Stoneheart."
"I am sorry for that," Jaime said, and Gendry thought he sounded sincere.
"The sword?" Arya asked Harwin, but he shook his head.
"I couldn't say Princess, I'm sorry."
Gendry was thoughtful; if his memory served him right he thought he had an idea where the sword had ended up. But he could be wrong – he had seen the sword he was thinking of, but he had no idea if it was identical to Tommen's, and so he decided to keep his mouth shut until he had seen the latter.
Outside came the sounds of horns blowing, followed not long after by the sounds of bells tolling – King Tommen had officially surrendered.
Arya stood shakily and Gendry immediately stepped closer, "This arrow needs removing, it's been in too long. Harwin, Lommy, stay with Tommen and wait for Aegon's presence; when Aegon arrives you can find Maester Mathos. Gendry come with me."
In silence, Gendry acquiesced and followed her back to the council chamber, opening the doors for her as she went.
Gendry watched with concern as Arya braced herself against the table, still littered with goblets, wine and wilted fruits. He came up behind her in time to hear her take a deep, shaky breath, the rough bandage he had tied around her arm earlier was now soaked in blood - though whether is was entirely her own, or that of others which had soaked her gown, he wasn't entirely sure.
"You need to get the arrow out," Arya stated, before Gendry could speak.
"Sorry?" He said after a moment, thinking he may have misheard. "You want me to take the arrow out?"
Arya nodded, "heat the wine; place the jug in the fire, get it boiling hot - you'll need it when the arrow comes out."
"Wouldn't it be better to wait for Lommy to return with Mathos?" Gendry suggested - he was a blacksmith, with big, clumsy hands. This required a delicate touch - that wasn't him.
But then Arya looked up at him and for the first time he saw pain in her eyes - she had never her let her pain show before, she must have been in agony to allow her carefully placed mask to slip.
"I can't wait for Mathos," she said flatly. And then in a slightly softer voice, "please, Gendry, I need this arrow out."
How in the seven hells was he supposed to refuse her, when she looked, and spoke to him like that? He sighed and nodded, reaching behind her, he grabbed the large jug of wine from the centre of the table - still over half full - and carefully positioned it in the still burning fire.
When he returned to her, Arya was now sat up on the edge of the table; she beckoned him closer and Gendry moved so that he was now standing as close as he could get without touching her. Arya repositioned herself, so that she was sitting closer to the edge, one of her legs in between Gendry's. He tried to ignore the increase in his heart rate at such a close, and somewhat intimate, position he now found himself in.
"Use your left hand to keep my arm and shoulder steady," Arya directed him, clearly unaware of Gendry's sudden lapse in concentration. "With the heel of your right, push the arrow through - you need to be sure and steady; not too fast, but determined and forceful. When your hand reaches my shoulder, keep it there, and then use your left to pull the arrow from the back. As soon as it's out, get the wine."
Gendry nodded, and swallowed, trying to push his nerves away. He moved into position, gripping her upper left arm, as she had instructed, his eyes resting firmly on the arrow, until her own hand came up and rested on his chest. His eyes flickered to hers in silent question.
"This is going to hurt like hell, but whatever I say, or do, you can't stop," she said. There was something in her voice, in her eyes, - some emotions Gendry couldn't quite place - perhaps it was just the pain, but it still didn't prepare him for Arya's next move.
Without hesitation - without apparent thought - Arya reached up ever and gently pressed her lips against Gendry's. He was stunned, he had no idea what to do, but within a second his body took over; his left hand remained where it was, but his right he moved to gently cup her face. The kiss never deepened, it remained light and gentle - Gendry quelled every urge within him to intensify the kiss - Arya had made this move, she was in complete agony, possibly drowsy with the blood loss she had experienced; this was all her, what she needed and Gendry would let her dictate their movements. That, and he was terrified that if he let go of his self control, he would push to far and she would retreat - right now, he never wanted this moment to end.
It was brief, and all too soon Arya pulled back slightly, never opening her eyes, and nodded. "All right," she whispered. "I'm ready."
Gendry swallowed his nerves, and without a word he removed his hand from her neck and began to push the arrow out, just as Arya had instructed him.
He tried to ignore the look of pain that contorted her face, but as the arrow tip emerged through her back, he couldn't ignore the yells of pain that started out as groans, but soon turned into shouts through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Gendry repeated in time with Arya's curses. It only took moments, but it felt like a lifetime to Gendry; despite keeping her jaw clenched, Arya's screams of pain were loud and it was killing Gendry to know he was the cause and could do nothing to stop it.
"There!" He eventually said with relief'. "It's out." He tossed the bloodied arrow on the table as Arya leaned forward and rested herself against his torso, both of them breathing heavily.
Once more, instinct took over and Gendry wrapped his arms around her in comfort. "It's out," he repeated in a whisper.
"Wine," Arya mumbled, and then pushed herself back to look up at Gendry. "Get the wine."
Gendry nodded, and after contenting himself that Arya wasn't about pitch head first from the table without his support, he took quick long steps to retrieve the now bubbling wine.
On his return, Arya leaned back on the table, "pour it directly over, and into, the wound," she told him through clenched teeth.
Gendry could tell from the set of her mouth that she was anticipating more pain, and he wasn't wrong. As he poured, her face contorted once more, and another string of curse words escaped through her clenched teeth: to say she had been raised to be a lady before he had met her, she had a surprisingly varied, unsavoury vocabulary – in both the Common Tongue, and Braavosi, it would seem. He held her shoulder steady as she tried to wrench away from the pain, at the same time as grabbing Gendry's shirt and effectively keeping him close.
To an outside perspective, it looked as though they were locked in a struggle - as though Gendry was holding her down and purposefully trying to harm her. Which is why, when the doors leading from the throne room opened, Gendry was greeted with a menacing growl and a second later found himself flying hard into the floor with a giant paw on his chest.
He was vaguely aware of Arya shouting out, "Nymeria, no!" At the same time he felt a sharp pain in his left arm, succeeding by something warm and wet, flooding the area.
"Nymeria!" Arya shouted again, and then suddenly the weight was lifted from his chest, and he looked up to see Nymeria sitting calmly at his feet. For a second he was blindsided when he looked at Nymeria's eyes and found they looked strangely like Arya's, and he was certain he could see the expression of an apology in them.
He looked up at Arya, who was now sitting in at an awkward angle on the table; still leaning back but with one arm stretched forward, her eyes closed. Now he understood: in the commotion Arya had slipped into to Nymeria, the only way to control her.
As Gendry got warily back to his feet, keeping one eye on the direwolf that was even more temperamental than her owner, Arya's eyes flickered open once more.
"I'm sorry," Arya whispered, but Gendry shook his head.
"She was just protecting you," Gendry said.
Maester Mathos, Lommy and Harwin had followed Nymeria into the room, the former of whom moved directly to Arya to begin examining her wounds, pulling various vials and objects from within his robes - where he hid all these things, Gendry had no idea, but his robes must have been heavy.
"Lommy said you had an arrow through your shoulder," Mathos commented, looking over the wound.
"Yes," Arya agreed, at the same time as wordlessly beckoning Gendry to return to her side. He gave a quick wary glance at Nymeria, and could have sworn he saw Arya smirk out of the corner of his eye, before taking hesitant steps back toward the table. With each step, Nymeria gave a threatening grumble, but never stirred.
"Gendry removed it," Arya continued. "He was just dousing it with wine when you entered; it will need sewing before bandaging, but first you should use-"
"I know, Princess," Mathos smiled, amused at her need for keeping control, but Gendry could clearly see the concern he was unable to hide; concern that Gendry shared with him, as he too had heard the weakening in her voice - Arya was losing her strength.
"You need stay quiet," Mathos told her as Gendry approached the table, trying to ignore the warning growls from Nymeria. "You've lost a lot of blood, Princess, you need to conserve your strength."
Arya nodded, "I'll need Milk of the Poppy and -"
"I know, princess," Mathos told her again, before looking up at Gendry and saying quietly, "hold her steady, this is going to sting more than the wine."
Gendry nodded and moved closer. Before he could touch her, Arya took his hand in hers, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze, before holding her right arm in a way that effectually pinned it to her side.
Mathos began to un-stopper vials and drench strips of fabric in curious smelling liquids, still taking to Arya. "I remember every single one of our conversations, prior to our separation - I have prepared everything you asked for, just as we discussed."
Arya nodded, and then hissed as he began to dab the wound on both sides if her shoulder. Her grip tightened around Gendry's hand, and he was surprised once again at her strength. When Mathos picked up the needle and thread and began to stitch Arya's skin, her grip intensified to a painful degree, and Gendry had to turn his face away from her, so that she couldn't see him grimace. Harwin and Lommy, however, did see his grimace and their matching looks of concern at Arya's well being were momentarily transformed into silent sniggers at their friend's pain. Gendry threw Harwin a glare, which only made Harwin grin more openly.
When the stitching was complete, Mathos moved onto the stab wound courtesy of Cersei, and Arya suddenly became aware of the state of Gendry's arm.
"Nymeria bit you," Arya stated, sounding even weaker than before. "I'm sorry."
"It's barely a scratch," Gendry shrugged with a frown, knowing full well it was more than 'a scratch'. He hadn't looked at his arm, but he could feel the blood soaking his sleeve and running down his arm. "And she was just protecting you."
"From the one person I don't need protecting from," Arya said drowsily, just as the doors from the throne room opened once more, and Aegon entered looking excited yet wary - as if he could not quite believe what was happening around him.
"King's Landing is mine, and I have you to thank for that," he declared as he approached Arya. He stopped suddenly "Are you well, Lady Stark?"
"Princess Arya," Gendry and Harwin corrected him, at the same time as Arya spoke with a smile: "I'll survive."
Aegon seemed to sense the apprehension in the room, and he looked about warily. "I've sent men to organise rooms," he told the all. "The lady Margaery is being moved to more modest quarters, you can have her rooms for the duration of your stay."
"Thank you, your Grace," Mathos answered for them all. "Lommy, run and find anyone who can have buckets of cold water sent to the rooms, and some cloths. Ask them to send drinking water also, and whatever food they have to spare - but only a little."
Lommy looked at Arya, who nodded once, and nodded himself, "right away."
"And Lommy," Gendry called him back, suddenly realising something. "Find out where these rooms actually are. Or bring someone back who can take us to them."
Lommy nodded with a grin and disappeared.
"What?" Gendry asked when he looked back at the others, who were giving him strange looks. "Does anyone know their way around here?" He waited for an answer, but none came. "Didn't think so."
"This wound looks good," Mathos commented, having continued to address Arya's wounds despite the interruptions. "Still bleeding, but not a lot. I'll clean and re-dress the wound, but I don't think it will need sewing."
Arya nodded, but didn't say anything, until Mathos tore the sleeve of her dress away at the shoulder.
"Humph," she gave a humourless breath of laughter. "I quite liked this dress - now I only have one."
Mathos gave a small chuckle, "I'm sure we can find a replacement somewhere in this castle, Princess."
"Forgive me," Aegon spoke; he had been silently watching the proceedings, and surveying the room - taking in the cloak covered bodies. "I have a council to convene, a Kingdom to organise -"
Arya gave him a weak smile, "go. You're King on the Iron Throne now, you have a few Kingdoms to rule. Go rule.
"Anything you need, let me know," Aegon said before departing.
When Lommy returned he was accompanied by a young girl, who took them to their appointed rooms.
It was a long walk - or at least it felt that way to Gendry who was more focused on Arya's movements than anything else. She had refused any help from everyone around her but Gendry could see her leaning heavily on Nymeria all the way.
Once in the rooms delegated to them, Gendry helped Lommy bring the buckets of water from the sitting room into the bedchamber and immediately retreated when the task was done, averting his eyes from where Mathos was helping Arya out of the remains of her dress, and into the bed.
More water was brought in by serving girls but they refused to the enter the bed chamber, while giving Nymeria – who was now laid at the foot of the bed - terrified glances, and so Gendry carried them the rest of the way.
He set the water down by the table in front of the fire, to which Lommy was now attending. Mathos came over to him before Gendry could leave again.
"Sit," he told him quietly. "Let me see to your arm, Nymeria bit you well."
Gendry did as was requested, his eyes staying on Arya who was sleeping already, but looking deathly pale. "How is she?" Gendry asked, looking back to Mathos. "Really?"
Mathos sighed, "honestly? I don't know. The wounds have caused minimal damage internally, but she has lost a good amount of blood – I don't know how she managed to fight with an arrow in her shoulder, but it certainly hasn't helped; the shoulder wound is bigger than it should have been. Ordinarily, that wouldn't worry me this much, but we're in the grip of winter, food is scarce. And while we are none of us exactly starving, she may not be eating enough for her to fight it completely."
As he talked Mathos attended to Gendry's wound; poked and prodded, bathed and bandaged, but Gendry didn't feel anything. His whole attention was fixed resolutely on Arya. "Is there anything you can give her? Something to help her recover?"
"I already have," Mathos told him patiently. "Milk of the Poppy so she can sleep without pain. And an interesting concoction, the knowledge of which she brought back with her - I never came across it in my studies, so I cannot say if it will work. But she has used it before, apparently – on 'wounds worse than these' she says."
"It will work," Gendry said stubbornly. "It has to work."
Mathos was silent for a moment, but Gendry could feel him watching him intently.
"How long have you loved her?" Mathos eventually asked quietly, causing Gendry to start.
"I don't know what you mean," Gendry mumbled tearing his eyes away from Arya, but not meeting Mathos' gaze.
Despite not looking Mathos in the eye, Gendry still saw the knowing smile. "I won't say a word, but your feelings for her are clear - to me at least, especially today."
Gendry didn't say a word but couldn't stop himself from reflecting. He really couldn't deny it any longer, he was in love her - he shouldn't be, but he was. How long he had been in love with her, he couldn't say; all he knew was that he knew what it was like to live without her, and now that she was back in his life, he couldn't imagine her not being there. Mathos began clearing the table around him, while Gendry continued to brood. He had been perfectly content suppressing his feelings - avoiding his emotions, living in denial - but then Arya went and kissed him, and now everything he had been quelling came bubbling to the surface, and he didn't know how to push it back again.
Hs thoughts were interrupted when Arya moved on the bed, emitting a low groan of distress. Gendry's eyes snapped to her, and Mathos froze in his actions to watch her intently. She was quiet for a moment, but then stirred again, this time the groan was more pronounced.
Gendry looked at Maths in concern, and was disconcerted to see that he looked just as worried as Gendry felt. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Mathos answered, moving to Arya's side and feeling her forehead. "She's running a fever, fetch me the basin of water and a cloth."
Arya groaned again, and this time her face betrayed the pain. "She's in pain, can you give her more Milk of the poppy?" Gendry asked, moving from his seat and carrying out the request.
Mathos shook his head as he began to bathe Arya's head and neck with the cold water, "no. There is no way to know the effects of mixing it with the tonic of Arya's making - I'm afraid if we give her too much Milk, she will never wake from her sleep. All we can do is try and keep her cool. And get her to drink, if we can - she must stay hydrated."
The door of the bedchamber opened and Lommy entered. "Tommen is here to-" he started, and then took in the meaning of the tableau formed at the bed. "What's happening?"
"What does Tommen want?" Gendry asked, somewhat roughly.
"He brought the sword the princess asked for," Lommy said quietly, his eyes not leaving Arya. "Is she going to be all right?"
"Tell Tommen that the Princess is resting, but she will thank him tomorrow," Gendry told him. "When he's gone, fetch more cold water; we need to keep her temperature down."
Lommy glanced at the shuttered windows, "it's freezing outside, but warm in here; couldn't we open the windows? If the room is cold, wouldn't it help keep the princess cool?"
Gendry looked over at Mathos, who looked just a surprised as Gendry felt: it was a simple, yet logical suggestion - why hadn't they thought of that?
Mathos nodded at Lommy, "Do it. Get the doors too. And then go fetch more water, and make sure it is cold; this isn't cold enough."
Lommy went around the room quickly; throwing up the shutters and opening the windows wide so that an icy blast immediately filled the room, making Gendry visibly shiver. After throwing wide the doors, Lommy stood looking out for a moment.
"You already have plenty of water, right? It's just not cold enough?" Lommy asked.
"Yes," Gendry said briskly, now back at Arya's side. "So the quicker we get more cold water, the better."
"There's a whole balcony full of snow and ice," Lommy pointed out. "Wouldn't it be quicker to just fill the buckets with some? The melt water will be colder."
Mathos chuckled, "smart boy. Go see that Tommen is thanked and then come back and fill these buckets with snow."
Lommy disappeared just as Arya gave another low moan, this time accompanied by a whine from Nymeria. This, more than anything, seriously worried Gendry: the bond between Arya and her wolf was unexplainable, but it was strong and true. If Nymeria was distressed, than Arya was in a very bad way.
"She's dehydrated," Mathos murmured, more to himself than to Gendry. "We need to get her to drink, but...the more she moves, the more she disturbs the shoulder. If the stitches don't hold she could bleed out. But if we don't move her...trying to get her to drink laying down will choke her-"
"Then sit her up," Gendry said, drawing Mathos' attention to the fact that he was talking aloud. Gendry had brought the cup and water jug from the table.
"We can't keep holding her up to drink, then laying her back down - her shoulder won't take that much movement," Mathos countered.
"You said we need to get her to drink-"
"I know," Mathos cut him off, and for the first time he sounded truly stressed.
Gendry thought hard - he remembered what Jane used to sometimes do if one of the orphans came down with a fever and was too weak to sit up to drink and eat. It would be presumptuous - screw that, it would be certainly crossing lines of decorum in every direction. But he couldn't do nothing.
His mind made up, he set down the goblet and jug next to Mathos and began removing his shoes, much to Mathos' evident confusion. "What are you doing?"
"She needs water; you said she needs to stay hydrated," Gendry said out loud, though not looking at Mathos. "We can't keep sitting her up and laying her back down – it will disturb the shoulder. And trying to reposition her now, to prop her up amongst pillows will also cause undue distress to the shoulder," Gendry explained as he pulled back the covers and gently raised Arya to a sitting position. Mathos immediately moved to assist Gendry, holding Arya in a steady upright position, though still looking wary.
"So you are going to…?" Mathos asked slowly.
"Sit behind her and have her lean against me," Gendry stated and then climbed into the bed, ignoring the warning growl from Nymeria, whose eyes never left Gendry the entire time. "I can keep her still and cool her forehead while you feed her water – Jane used to do it all the time when one of the children was sick."
Mathos disapproved – Gendry could see it in his face – but he didn't make a comment, and Gendry felt that he saw the sense in his suggestion, despite the other feelings that fuelled his silent criticism.
Lommy returned soon after and began taking buckets outside to fill with snow; he took in the new arrangement surrounding Arya with nothing more than raised eyebrows. When Lommy had entered, Harwin was standing on the other side of the door; from his vantage point he was able to see the bed perfectly. He had given Gendry a confused and disapproving look, but Gendry looked away and focused his attention solely on trying to bring Arya's temperature to an acceptable level.
No one exchanged a word for some time, but eventually when Arya seemed to settle a little, Mathos questioned Gendry about his reference to 'Jane and the children'. Gendry could tell from the thinly veiled tone of accusation that he was under the impression that Jane was more than a friend, and that the 'children' were probably his. Gendry wasted no time in clearing his name, explaining about his time at the Crossroads Inn; how he was merely there to protect the girls and the orphans, and to work the forge. And most importantly assuring Mathos that Jane was nothing but a friend to him – he conveniently omitted the one night they spent together, deciding that no one besides Jane and himself needed to know about that.
It was well into the night now and Arya's condition had not improved – if anything it had worsened slightly. Lommy had been in an out, giving updates to the men and Lady Stoneheart who had gathered in the sitting room outside the bedchamber. Food had been brought in a few hours back, but neither Gendry nor Mathos had eaten any of it, both too concerned with Arya to care for themselves.
The moon had risen hours ago, and Lommy had fallen asleep at the table by the fire, when Arya took a sudden turn for the worse. Her temperature skyrocketed and she began groaning worse than ever, violently tossing about no matter how hard Gendry tried to keep her still. Her breathing became laboured and Nymeria began to whine worse than ever.
"What's happening?" Gendry asked Mathos, looking for some sign of reassurance but finding none from the Maester.
"I don't know, but it isn't good."
Mathos moved to the doors to bring in more ice as Gendry continued to bathe Arya's forehead with the wet cloth he had been holding for hours. For the past few hours he had become complacent, he really thought she was going to be all right. And now, all of a sudden, he was seized with the fear that this could be it; he tried to ignore it, but he couldn't push it away completely.
"You are not going anywhere," he murmured quietly to Arya, praying that she would listen. "You've come so far already to quit now; this isn't it for you. You can't leave me, not now." Gendry could hear the begging in his voice, but he didn't care – Lommy had started awake but was still confused of his surroundings and Mathos was outside; there was no one to hear but Arya. "I know what it's like to live without you – I can't do it all over again, so you need to live. I need you, I breath you, I can't go through this all again."
Mathos returned with a large piece of ice that he had wrapped in cloth and handed it to Gendry, "use this, it will be colder than the water."
Gendry didn't hesitate to acquiesce, pressing the ice gently to her head and neck, as Mathos took another piece of cloth-wrapped ice and began to run it over her arms. They continued thus for hours, never speaking; Gendry and Mathos running ice over Arya's exposed flesh, Lommy going to and from the balcony to bring fresh chunks of ice as the others melted fast. He didn't know how long they had been at it, but Gendry's fingers were soon white and numb from the cold, and still Arya continued to burn hotter than the seven hells, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat, her cotton shift clinging to her form soaked from a mixture of sweat and ice-melt.
The fever raged for what felt like a lifetime, though in reality is was probably only mere hours. Eventually, as the first light of dawn began to glow along the horizon, Arya's breathing evened out and she ceased to toss about; she adjusted her body, as if trying to get comfortable, and then let out a long sigh. Gendry froze, his eyes locked on Mathos hoping to read from his face what this change meant. Mathos put down his soaked cloth – the ice long melted – and felt long Arya's forehead, cheek and neck with the back of his hand. Gendry could feel that Arya's body temperature had dropped; her body was no longer burning into his, but he wanted Mathos to confirm it. However, Mathos never said a word, didn't even look at Gendry as he silently picked up her wrist and felt her pulse. A moment later, Mathos dropt his head and let out a laughing sigh of relief.
"What is it?" Gendry asked immediately, not daring to believe the best until he heard it spoken aloud. Finally, Mathos made eye contact and Gendry couldn't believe he saw a smile.
"Her temperature is almost normal – still a little feverish, but nothing harmful. Her pulse is strong and steady and her breathing regular," Mathos told him. But he still hadn't said the words that Gendry wanted to hear.
"She's going to be alright?" Gendry asked and Mathos nodded.
"She just needs to sleep now, and rest. But she's made it through the worst – she will be fine."
"I'll tell the others," Lommy said and disappeared.
Gendry wrapped his arms around Arya, the dizziness of relief stopping him from regulating his actions. "Thank the gods," he murmured, burying his head in her hair and kissing her head.
Mathos cleared his throat, as if to remind Gendry of his presence. "We should lay her back against the pillows now, let her sleep in comfort," Mathos suggested, as he began to clear the cloths and bowls from the bedside to the table in front of the fire. "I'll help you in a moment, and then you should sleep as well."
Gendry relaxed his hold on Arya and leaned back into the pillows with a murmur of assent; now that the fear of losing her had passed, Gendry realised just how exhausted he was. He waited for Mathos to return to the bedside so that he would be able to slip from the bed with limited movement of Arya, but he never came. Instead, Gendry's eyelids fluttered, and he succumbed to the blackness of sleep before Mathos had even set the bowls down on the table.
A/N: Next chapter will be Arya again. I will try and get working on it ASAP. I'm going away for a couple of weeks at the end of the month, so I probably won't be able to update until April. Thanks for reading
xBx