Chapter 18: The Closer You Are

Storm's End

"Milord?"

The girl stilled beneath him, her almond eyes staring at him with surprise. Her hair was fanned out on his pillow, and she looked beautiful but something was wrong and he knew it, and he knew she knew it too. Gendry's hands were well under her smallclothes by now and he was pressing her into the featherbed.

"Should I pleasure you instead, Milord?" The girl asked sheepishly, her hand sliding down between them to touch his manhood. He groaned.

She gasped when Gendry held her wrist and stared at her. After a few seconds, he shook his head then started pulling his breeches up.

"I'm not in the mood. Leave," he ordered. The girl nodded and starting pulling her clothes on reluctantly. Her eyes moved to him momentarily to see if he had changed his mind. He was acting harsh, but he just wasn't able to do this tonight. She bowed and left as silently as she had come.

Gendry pulled his tunic on and buttoned it slowly. He grabbed the flagon of wine. The liquid was bitter on his tongue, but strong, and that was all he needed. He gulped a few times but he was far from feeling dizzy, so he opened the door and stepped outside his room. Sleep was evading him. He was used to sleeping heavily at night, and hated to stay awake after nightfall.

The guards were on their duty, but he dismissed them. He was not a Lord. Just because he was called one, didn't make him one. And these guards were once far above him, and he knew he shouldn't feel guilty still after so many months but he did. He refused guards as much as he could, but for security, his Father sometimes forced him to keep them.

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on a few people. They were in front of the Stark girl's door. She was there too, saying something to - or rather shouting at - the guards.

He sighed and approached closer, until he was at hearing range.

"My Lady, we have been ordered not to let you leave," one guard was saying. He sounded frustrated.

"I'm not going anywhere! I just need to be out of this room or else I'll suffocate! And you wouldn't want me to die on your watch, would you now?"

"My Lady, we cannot let you go."

"But, I-"

She stopped when she saw him.

The guards straightened and he was surprised to see that she was in a dress. Her hair was loose. Though it was almost the middle of the night, she looked far from being sleepy.

"Let her be," he said, without taking his eyes off her. "I will keep an eye on her."

"I don't need your favour," she said quickly.

"No, you don't. But you better accept it or you won't get another one anytime soon."

Arya bit her lip and frowned.

"Fine," she muttered.

He followed her, watching her walking towards a balcony. He was trying not to pay too much attention to the swaying of her hips, but he couldn't and he blamed the wine, although he could swear it wasn't affecting him minutes ago. They stopped and he looked out of the castle. The night sky was clear. It was a rare sight but a pleasing one. He looked at the moon then at Arya. He noticed she was looking at it too.

"Don't get too close, My Lady," he said, as she leaned to look over the balcony. The air around them was warm and a drop of sweat trickled down his neck. He wiped it away with his finger.

"Don't call me that."

"But you are one, so why shouldn't I call you that?"

He heard her snort. A conversation between them would be disastrous, he knew it.

"You were born in a castle. Didn't make you anything like a Lord."

He wondered if she was always this eager to get in a verbal fight with everyone. She had barely smiled since he saw her and he couldn't blame her but maybe it would do her some good.

He didn't think he was obliged to give her any explanation or that her opinion of him mattered at all, but the words fell from his lips anyway.

"I wasn't born in a castle. I was born in Flea Bottom. I didn't even know who my Father was until a few months ago."

Arya Stark was the last person in the world he wanted pity from. But this wasn't for pity as far as he knew.

She turned sideways to look at him with equal amount of surprise and amusement.

"So what," she asked, "your greed for power and riches made you seek out your Father? You looked at Lords and wished you could live like them in lavish castles and have more coin with you than you could count."

He flushed in anger. "You are a daughter of a Lord, aren't you? Yet you do not want the status you were born into. I didn't want to live my entire life as a blacksmith. Maybe we are not so different after all."

"I do not kidnap people!" She shouted, now turning to face him fully.

He stepped close to her and held her shoulders and shook her, and she glared at him like a predator ready to strike. Her eyes turned to slits of grey. He was taking in a lot of details about her tonight, he realized.

"I did not choose to bring you! I did not even know you!"

"If you are so guiltless, then let me go! Your Father is going to kill me once he thinks I'm of no use anymore. If you are any better than Robert then let me go."

His grip tightened on her shoulders and he felt his anger rising. So, this was it. She was hoping he would help her escape if he felt guilty enough.

She is never going to accept she is stuck here, is she?

She wanted to weaken him, but he wouldn't be manipulated by someone like her.

"Is this what it is?" He leaned closer to her so his face was inches away from hers. "You think a few words are able to make me betray my Father? You think you hold any power over me?"

Her cheeks were flushed, and she didn't say anything back to him since the first time he had spoken to her. She only stared at him and he desperately wanted to make her look away. Her gaze unnerved him.

He looked at her lips and kissed her forcefully. Arya's arms came to push at his chest instantly as she thrashed in his arms. She was panicking and hitting hin hard while he kept on kissing her. He realized he didn't want her to hate him. She drove him mad with rage everytime they spoke, but he couldn't stop the kiss. He was pressing his lips on her and she was refusing to open hers. They were sealed shut and he couldn't force her to part them.

Suddenly, her knee met with his thigh and he groaned at the sudden hit. Arya took the opportunity to back away from him. She was breathing harshly.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

He heard footsteps and saw the guards approach them. They looked at both of them quizzically and got out of Arya's way when she stormed away back towards her room without another word.

"Are you alright, My Lord?" One of them asked and he sounded accusing. There was no concern in his voice for him and he only seemed to ask the question out of duty. The words she had shouted had possibly given them an idea of what had happened.

He nodded.

He cursed aloud. The wine was to be blamed for everything. He had told her much more than he wanted to, and he shouldn't have done what he did. He disgusted her, and he was sure of it now. She had pushed him away and even when he was sure he held no affection for her, it still hurt. This was different. He hadn't wanted to fuck her. He just wanted the kiss, and little else, and it made him uneasy. He could deal with lust. He could bring a girl to his bed who looked like her and he could fuck her hard and forget about it the next morning. But other things he would not allow. Not with this girl. Not with this girl of all.