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The Bastard and the Beast
AuN: When Lord Eddard came to King’s Landing, his younger daughter was known as a beast that would bring shame to anyone around her. She wears pants, terrorizes her big sister, and horrifies potential suitors with her inhumane manners. The court would have rather thrown her into Flea Bottom than take the king’s bastard out of it, but after Lord Eddard showed Queen Cersei’s infidelity, they had no choice. Now the court is stuck with a rowdy bastard and an inappropriate beast. A bastard and beast that…cannot seem to stay away from each other. And the court has slowly come to realize that the two are a force to be reckoned with.
After nine years of living in King’s Landing, Lady Arya Stark has learned that the easiest way to sneak into Prince Gendry’s rooms is out her window by the kitchens, through the dark alleyway, and up the vines to his terrace. After eight years of living in King’s Landing, Prince Gendry Baratheon has learned that he should leave his terrace door unlocked, lest his best friend find a rock.
“You’re not ready yet!” Arya nagged, swinging the door open and trying not to stare at Gendry’s bare chest.
“Neither are you! Or is a stained tunic now dressy enough for a coronation?” Gendry asked, throwing his nicest shirt over his head.
“Don’t mind me. Sansa already has everything laid out. She just has to find me first.”
“And this isn’t the first place she’ll look?” Gendry laughed.
Arya took his jacket and helped him into it, even though he had to bend down for her to be able to reach his shoulders. “She’ll think twice about bothering you on your coronation day. Sit on the bed and I’ll get the medals.”
Arya took the medals given to him in the Lannister War, and lined them up in the order they go on his chest. She took the one that he had earned by tearing off Jaime Lannister’s head with his war hammer and ghosted her finger across the familiar words on the back, “Medal of Valor, bestowed on Prince Gendry Baratheon for his gallant actions in the Battle of Casterly Rock.”
“Are you wearing yours?” Gendry asked as they both stared at the hard-won battle medal.
“No. Ladies don’t wear medals on coronations.”
“Most ladies don’t have any to wear.”
Arya hummed and looked down at him, a rare occurrence for her to be able to do so, “I’m being proper today. I’ve already talked to Sansa about it, although I’m not really sticking to my word very well. I did not like the thought of you up here alone.”
Gendry grinned at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her between his legs, “You know, a lot of people would think twice about bothering me today.”
His voice was deep and suggestive, and Arya’s eyes darkened just a bit.
Gendry’s hands roamed, even as he leaned forward to whisper into her ear. “You just have to look proper today. You don’t have to be proper.”
“You’re going to be late,” Arya laughed, clearing her head, “And I’m already late. It will take at least a half hour to get into the dress Sansa has picked out.”
Gendry’s voice was low and seductive, just the way she liked it, “And, yet, it would take me less than a minute to get it off you later.”
She stared at him for a while before bending down to whisper softly in his ear, “You wouldn’t have to get it off. I won’t be wearing undergarments with it.”
Gendry closed his eyes, “Don’t tell me that if you don’t want me to throw you on this bed and make you wear nothing at all.”
Arya laughed softly, pinning the medal to his chest, “My mother’s arriving soon. Robb and Rickon are supposed to be with her.”
“I’ve never met your mother or Rickon.”
“I know.”
“I like Robb well enough though. He was kind to me during the war on top of having actually helpful advice.”
“Oh, and I’m not a helpful adviser?”
“You just kept telling me to not get my head knocked off, if I remember correctly.”
Arya smoothed his jacket one more time. In a low voice she smiled at him, “I think that’s as helpful as you’ll get.”
Gendry smiled, but then it fell and he looked away from her, “Speaking of good advice: the advisers have already brought up…marriage.”
Arya shrugged, “We knew they would—“
“The King has been dead for a week!”
Her hand came to cup his face and make him look her in the eye, “You’re the king now. You need to portray that, Gendry, otherwise they will tear you apart more than they already have.”
“I know—“
“You need to use marriage as a way to draw their support. You need to let people think their daughter is in the running.”
“I know—“
“We’ve done the proclamations. We have your father’s will, but you need to be smart.”
“Arya, I know—“
“We have a plan, Gendry. We just need to stick to the plan—“
Gendry’s hands tightened on her waist, shaking her lightly as his voice betrayed his growing anger “The plan doesn’t work if everyone already thinks you are going to be the queen.”
Arya fell silent and looked away from him. She shook her head, whispering to him, “I can’t. We’ve talked about this: they will never, ever, accept me as queen. And beyond that… you know how I feel.”
“I know it, but I don’t understand it.” Arya took his hands off of her waist and moved across the room. That just made Gendry even more angry, “Arry, I just don’t understand. You will lay with me, but you won’t marry me. You’ll give me advice, but you won’t be my adviser. I don’t understand why you won’t just make anything official.”
“The queen is stuck, Gendry. You didn’t see Cersei or you would know, but she was always stuck. I cannot do that! I cannot be tied to this castle and do as I’m told. I can’t sit back and have babies while I could be helping people or traveling the world! I can’t be stuck.”
“I didn’t realize you thought being stuck with me was a bad thing!” He shouted.
Arya searched his face as the door behind her flew open.
“Arya!” Sansa sounded exasperated, “Mother will be here in an hour! We need to get you ready!”
“Just a minute,” Arya said, waving her sister away.
But Sansa wasn’t having any of it, “No, now! We need to leave!”
Arya twisted to look at her sister, “Damn it! I need one minute alone with him! I’ll meet you there!”
Sansa muttered something under her breath and closed the door.
Arya stalked over to Gendry and grabbed his face in her hands. “Look at me. Look at me, Gendry.” Gendry’s eyes slowly came to study hers and Arya breathed a sigh of relief, “This is not about us. I will stay by your side no matter what. You will be stuck with me ‘til the day I die. But I cannot be your queen. I just…” Arya’s eyes shone with something Gendry could not put his finger on, “I just need you to follow the plan. Okay?”
“Fine.”
(*&*)
“Arya?” Lord Eddard asked, looking at the small girl trying to run away from him with her head bowed.
His nine-year-old daughter froze suddenly in the middle of Flea Bottom’s street as the children she had been playing with ran away. Arya made herself straighter and tried to wipe the dust off of her shirt before turning to her father. She smiled brightly at him and tried to mimic Sansa’s innocent face. It probably would have worked better if her father had not told her to stay in the castle that day.
“What are you wearing?” her father asked her.
Arya looked down at her stained tunic and her muddy pants, both of which were much too big to fit her tiny frame.
“I’m wearing… clothes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in your lessons?” Ned asked. Although his voice was stern, Arya could sense a little bit of amusement in his voice.
“Um….. Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” she asked, trying to take the attention off her.
Ned couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, “Come on. I suppose you’ll have to come with me.”
Arya’s face lit up, “Where are we going? Can we stop by the sweets shop? There’s one just a little ways down on a side street and they make the best lemon cakes! We could bring one home for Sansa!”
“And how do you know Flea Bottom so well?”
The little girl seemed to realize her mistake, “I just heard about it, Father. You know. From the other ladies.”
“Indeed,” Lord Eddard said. His wife always told him he was not hard enough on little Arya, but something in Ned always felt like he should not squash his daughter’s curiosity. He occasionally tried to get her to behave the way a proper young lady should, like this morning, but those times seemed to backfire on him more than anything else. He had stopped punishing her for sneaking out, something that irked Sansa and the rest of the court to no end, but Eddard found that what the court didn’t like about Arya is what he loved about his daughter.
Better to let her be wild and happy than tame and depressed, Ned thought.
“Father,” Arya pulled on his hand, “Where are we going?”
“To a forge, just there down the road,” Ned pointed.
Arya’s eyes widened, excited about the idea of getting to see the blacksmiths work, “A forge? What are we getting?”
“We’re not getting anything, just picking someone up.”
“Why are we picking someone up there?”
Lord Eddard looked at the curious eyes of his daughter and knew that she would figure out what was going on before anyone else. It was better to just have her fully in the know than to have her figure something out and have her come up with her own conclusions.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“I keep all sorts of secrets,” Arya told him.
“Like what?”
She screwed up her face at him, seeing his trick, “I’m not telling you.”
Ned laughed, “Good girl.” They walked for a little while as he tried to think of a way to tell her, “You must not tell anyone, sweet girl. Not even Sansa. Not yet, anyway.”
Arya stayed quiet.
“We’re going to pick up an apprentice there. Then, he is going to be the heir to King Robert’s throne.”
“But Joffrey is the heir. And Sansa is to be his queen.”
“Not anymore, Arya. That is why you must not tell anyone. Joffrey, as it turns out, is not King Robert’s son, and is therefore unable to be king.”
“But this apprentice is?” Arya was confused.
“Yes, Gendry is King Robert’s son.”
Something in Arya’s eyes cleared, “He’s like Jon, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” Lord Eddard said, wondering how his daughter got to be so cunning.
“There’s going to be a bastard on the throne.” Arya stated it like it was the most natural thing in the world, but she knew the consequences. She knew the repercussions would come. She knew this blacksmith’s apprentice would have to be very smart and very calculating.
“We have no idea what we’re getting into,” Arya mumbled.
Lord Eddard looked alarmed, “Arya, there is no ‘we’. You are not supposed to know about this. You aren’t supposed to know about Gendry. You are not supposed to get in the middle of this. Your only job is to not mention this to anyone and to protect yourself. Do you understand me?”
But Arya’s mind was already on the boy guarding the Wall almost a whole country away. If Jon was suddenly going to be Lord of Winterfell, he would not have the respect of the lords of the North, or the training to do the job well, or the allies to advise him. He would be alone and lost.
“He’s going to need a lot of help,” Arya said, looking at the blacksmith shop instead of the anxious eyes of her father.
“He does not need it from you,” Lord Eddard said, pushing open the door to the forge so his daughter could walk in. “Please,” he whispered when he knew the sounds of hammers would stop his words from reaching Arya’s ears, “Please, not you.”
Mott already had Gendry prepared to leave, the one measly bag and the bull’s helm sitting by the shop entrance. Arya had already disappeared into the shop, looking at all of the tools that were laying around.
“Mott, how are you?” Lord Eddard asked, smiling at the man.
“A lot better now you’re here,” Mott sniffed, “He’s been nothing but trouble these past few days.”
“Yes, well I’m sure this is a big adjustment for him. And for you.”
Arya picked up a half-finished blade and held it up to the fire’s light. There were designs placed between the sharp edges. When they were closer to the light, Arya could see that they were the symbols of the great houses.
Mott wiped his nose on his hand, “All I’m saying is that the sooner he is gone, the sooner my shop can get back to order.”
Arya swiped her hand over the Stark wolf. It was facing the opposite way that it usually did. In fact, a lot of the symbols were slightly off.
A hand grabbed onto the blade and took it out of her hands, “That’s not yours.”
“I know that!” Arya said, looking at the boy that towered above her. He was as big as an ox and wore a frown as he stared down at her. His black hair needed to be trimmed and he looked a little thin, but his bright blue eyes were what commanded her attention. They looked like they saw through her, like they could tell exactly what she was thinking, “I was just looking.”
“No, you were just stealing!”
Arya could understand where he was coming from. She did look very much like the street urchins that ran around stealing wares from carts and markets in Flea Bottom. Still, it did not excuse him, “Was not, you big oaf!”
Mott grabbed onto the boy, “Gendry! That’s no way to talk to a lady! This is Lord Stark’s daughter!”
Gendry’s eyes went to look at Arya’s father then back to the tiny girl that bore his resemblance. There was no mistaking who this girl was despite the mud and dirt, “So, just what were you thinking about doing with this sword, Lady Stark?”
“My mother is Lady Stark, I’m just Arya, and I’ll have you know that I know perfectly well how to use a sword!”
“Is that what you think? You can’t make pretty dresses with this, little lady.”
Arya’s face went red and her hands went to her hips, “Do you see me wearing a dress?”
Something seemed to change in Gendry, a certain type of amusement filled with curiosity. “I suppose you’re not, m’lady.”
Her grey eyes shined, “Do not call me m’lady.”
(*&*)
“Your Grace, Lady Stark and Lord Stark are approaching.” Lord Davos had come to the Red Keep when Stannis Baratheon had met his untimely end. Lord Davos had followed Shireen Baratheon when she was placed under Robert Baratheon’s care, or more like Gendry’s care. Now, Lord Davos was a confidant to Gendry, maybe not in the way an adviser is to the king, but in the way a father is to a son. Davos knew everything there was to know about Gendry. Sometimes it scared him.
“You probably want to be there,” Davos said, leaning against the door jamb of Gendry’s bedroom.
“Right,” Gendry said, “Remind me why again.”
Davos gave him a look, “Because Arya Stark isn’t the only one with a plan. Or a brain.”
“I’m going to tell her you said that.” Gendry said, moving towards the door.
“Please do. Maybe she’ll make you think more often.”
When Gendry got to the gates of the Red Keep, the Starks already stood in a line, preparing to welcome their family.
“Your Grace,” Lord Stark said, a little surprised, “I did not realize you would be here.”
“I did not come as Your Grace, Lord Stark. I came as a friend.” Gendry went and stood beside Arya, exactly where he would have never stood as King.
“I see that,” Ned smiled at him before turning back to the gates.
“How long until you’re not mad at me?” Arya asked.
Gendry let out a breath, “Five minutes.”
Arya looked up at him, smiling a smile she saved for only him, and Gendy was immediately star-struck.
Her hair had been combed and plaited into a Northern bun and her grey eyes shined behind the light makeup that Sansa had put on her. Her grey dress was in a Southern style with its low-cut front and light fabric to keep her cool, but the light cape wrapped around her shoulders still had the proud Stark wolf. Needle was strapped to her side, the knife he had gifted her on her last name-day strapped to her other, and the medal that she had won in the Battle of Casterly Rock was pinned to her chest. Gendry supposed she had decided to be… at least a little less proper today.
She looked gorgeous.
“Mayhaps we could compromise on two minutes,” he said.
“Mayhaps,” she said softly.
Lady Sansa shot a knowing smile at Gendry over Arya’s head, and Gendry had to agree with Arya when she complained about her sister being “all knowing”.
There had been an incident involving Arya and Joffrey shortly after Gendry was brought to the Keep that had ruined him in Sansa’s eyes. After that, Sansa had lost her rose-tinted glasses and had been a pivotal player in Joffrey’s trial. While his mother’s charge of incest removed him from the line of succession, it was the charges Sansa and Arya brought forward that had his head removed from his shoulders. Since then, the two sisters had become an inseparable team, building off each other, learning from each other, and fighting for each other.
The two of them had become a devilish, effective team that defended themselves and their shared interests. Sometimes people in court forget this. The two women lived in different circles: Arya with the soldiers and advisers and Lady Sansa with the ladies and wives. And Arya and Sansa used this to their advantage. The people of the court never realized the two might as well be one person. Any information whispered into one of their ears was as good as shared with them both and plans against the Starks or their bastard king were seen and taken care of with undetectable efficiency. They knew everything together and shared more with each other.
Sometimes Gendry wondered how much the two actually shared about Gendry, and the look that Sansa gave him answered that question: more than enough.
“You greet Robb first,” Arya said, unaware of the silent conversation.
“I know.”
“When you get nervous, you forget protocol, which, if you’ll remember, has led to some interesting moments in court.”
“You spill wine over the king one time and no one lets you forget it.”
“I’m just saying that my mother loves protocol and propriety.”
“Oh, don’t listen to her, Gendry. She’s just nervous because the last time Mother saw her Arya was screaming at some poor Northern lord.”
“In my defense,” Arya lifted her head to see Sansa’s smug face, “He was asking for it.”
“They’re always asking for it,” Sansa chimed.
“What did he do?” Gendry asked.
Arya’s face screwed up, “What do I look like? A walking memory? I don’t remember.”
“But he definitely asked for it,” Sansa sang in a mocking tone.
Gendry was used to the bickering by now. He was used to the two sisters looking at each other like they hated each other all the while acting in a way that never crossed the line between annoying and scornful. He loved it in a way.
By the time that Gendry had gotten to the palace, the Lannister bastards were being prepared to be shipped off quietly. There was no time for him to meet them, much less form a bond with any of them. He remembered Joffrey calling him a filthy bastard and Myrcella smiling at him with sad eyes, but that was it. Tommen, at the time, still thought he was going off on an adventure. King Robert just had not told him the adventure was a one-way trip to the Wall, where he was now Lord Commander Jon Snow’s problem. Myrcella, for her part, had appreciated her fostering down in Dorne, where Lord Stark had thought she would be safe even with her new name as a bastard.
Either way, the only siblings that could have helped Gendry maneuver the Keep’s politics were gone. Mya, another one of Robert’s bastards, came and went from the Keep as she pleased, always willing to give Gendry a hand, but she, like so many of the bastards, did not appreciate the menace-filled spotlight placed on her by the court. Gendry could not blame her for staying away as much as possible.
So, the bickering of the Stark sisters was the closest thing Gendry had to seeing a real sibling relationship. Sometimes, Gendry was allowed to join in on their back and forth, but most of the time it did not feel like his place. There was always something stopping him from entering into that sibling bond as a brother. Maybe it was the bond of familial blood between the two girls. Maybe it was because Gendry lacked a set of breasts. Maybe it was because he was fucking one of the sisters hard enough to leave an imprint on his featherbed. He heard that could put a strain on a sibling relationship.
“Here we go,” Arya sighed as the gates opened.
(*&*)
“You know, the sword is supposed to hit your opponent, right?” Arya called from her spot against the wall of the training yard between the water and snack table.
“Piss off. I’m better with a hammer than a sword. Don’t you have sewing lessons to be at, m’lady?”
“Most likely.” Arya popped a grape into her mouth. She stood almost a foot shorter than him now, the same way they were when they met, though that was at least five years gone. Those years had added more than height to her. The trial of Joffrey, the years she had spent in the North, and the War of the Lannisters had added tempered steel to her eyes. It scared most ladies and unnerved almost every man, but it only made Gendry more captivated. More entranced. He could get lost in her eyes.
Ser Barristan landed another blow to the prince’s arm, “You should listen to your little lady, my prince. Maybe she could teach you a thing or two.”
“The only thing she could teach me is how to annoy people.” Gendry lowered his sword and made his way to his water, filling up a cup.
“Not true.” Arya protested, “I’m good at loads of stuff.”
“Like what?”
Arya’s eyes went to the way that some of the water that had escaped dribbled down his throat. “Loads of stuff.”
“You’ll have to be more specific, m’lady.”
Gendry, of course, knew he was baiting her, but he had done it several times in his years since he met her. She had just seemed better able to control her urges than him. And Gendry wasn’t blind, so he knew she had urges by the way she looked at him.
Arya stepped away from the wall. “Maybe someday I’ll show you.”
And then she walked away.
(*&*)
Lady Stark might have been a stickler to propriety, but the rest of her family was not. Robb somehow managed to keep with protocol with only a big smile on his face when he finally saw the rest of his family. Rickon, however, had not seen his father since he was a toddler, and he was done waiting.
“He better not be taller than me,” Gendry heard Arya mumble.
The boy hopped off his horse, racing up the stairs, and a huge figure loped behind him.
\
“Gods.” Gendry said. “Is that a direwolf?”
A pained look passed over Arya’s face, and Gendry did not need to turn to know it was mirrored on her sister’s. “Yes. It is.”
Their wolves, Gendry knew, was just another thing Joffrey had taken from them. Lady and Nymeria were long gone before Gendry ever arrived.
Rickon crashed into his father, Lord Eddard, laughing as he gathered his son to him. “My boy! Look how you’ve grown!”
“I distinctly remember Arya telling you not to grow anymore,” Sansa said, causing her youngest brother to hurtle towards her.
“Who would ever listen to her?” he says, wrapping his arms around her.
“Lots of people,” Arya said when it was her turn to get a hug, “Haven’t you heard? I basically run the kingdoms.”
(*&*)
“If you continue down this route,” Lord Varys shrugged, “You cannot blame people for thinking she will be the next queen.”
Gendry sighed, “She told me she did not want to. She told me she could never be stuck here.”
“Ah,” Lord Varys said, studying the prince carefully, “I regularly wondered what would have happened if her aunt had survived the war. If she would have been named queen… I suspect she would have had the same reservations.”
“I don’t understand it.”
Lord Varys sighed, “I suppose some creatures just aren’t meant to be cooped up.”
“And she thinks I would do that to her?”
“No. She knows you wouldn’t. The people would. The lords and ladies would. The way society thinks ladies should behave. All of those would do the job for you.”
Gendry only sighed.
“There was a queen that rebelled against society for love,” Varys said, “She ended up sequestering herself in her father’s castle, and when your wolf-blooded love came, the queen met her end at the end of a sword named ‘Needle’ of all things.”
Gendry smarted at the advisor, “Cersei was guilty of incest. Arya just doesn’t behave like other women.”
“To the public one is just as taboo as the other.”
(*&*)
“Your Majesty,” Lady Catelyn said to Gendry, “I did not think you would be here. I would have thought you had a very busy schedule today.”
“I do, my lady. But I am never too busy to welcome the Stark family to King’s Landing.”
Lady Catelyn’s smile was strained, “I see. Well, I am very glad you were able to join us.”
Davos came up behind Gendry, “Your Majesty, there is something that requires your attention.”
Arya turned to look at Davos, multiple questions in her eyes. Davos was quick to calm her nerves, “Everything is fine, m’lady. You can stay with your family.”
Her eyes shot back to Gendry, and he smiled at her. He pushed a strand of hair away from her face, “If it’s anything too serious, I’ll call for you. You know I will.”
Lady Catelyn watched the king carefully until he was out of earshot. It was only then that she turned to her youngest daughter, “Please tell me the rumors are not true.”
Arya did not need to ask which rumors she was talking about. “If you would like to check to see if they are, you are most certainly welcome to try.”
Lady Catelyn looked pained before she switched the subject.
(*&*)
“This is barbaric,” Gendry yelled at his father. “She’s ten years old, and you’re having her in the trial?!”
“It is the only way to know if her claims are true.”
“You have all of the evidence you need! Sansa saw it, and several servants heard her screams! She has scars all up and down her arms and legs from it! She still has the goddamned bruises even months later!”
“All of which could have been fabricated for attention.”
“Attention?! Attention?!” Gendry’s hands came down on the table, rattling his father’s cup.
The door opened, and the two Stark sisters walked in. Arya’s face was a deep, traumatic red. She wouldn’t look Gendry in the eye.
“Are you--”
“Promise me you won’t be there.”
“Arya—“
“What they’re asking me to do,” Arya shook her head, looking up at the ceiling, “I don’t want you to see. Promise me.”
Gendry couldn’t bring himself to do anything that would cause her more pain. Not this young girl. Not his only friend. Not the one person he loved more than himself.
“Alright,” his voice was only a whisper.
Lord Eddard, who had been silent up until this point, cleared his throat, “After the trial is done. I would like the girls to be sent back to the North for a while.”
Gendry turned towards his best friend’s father, his face already falling. He would have to say goodbye to his best companion, for how long he knew not. He also knew it would probably be best for her. She had pried herself open for this, had opened wounds she should have never had. The least he could do is allow her the time to grow strong before she had to face the court again.
(*&*)
“How did it go?” Davos asked.
“Her mother did not seem to hate me.”
“Yet,” Davos pointed out.
“Thank you for that,” Gendry replied.
They walked down the hallway to the throne room.
“There it is,” Davos said, pointing to the front. Where the Iron Throne had once stood alone, another had joined it. This throne, while daintier and not made of the swords of the fallen, was still a masterpiece of metal put together with expert hands. Instead of swords, this seat’s halo seemed to be made out of sun rays, and the arms were wide and strong. On its seat sat a pillow of fur to make the owner of the chair more comfortable.
“It looks even better than I thought it would.” Gendy said, wiping his hand over the cool metal arm rest. He turned back to Davos, “She’ll know something is going on.”
“Yes, she will.” Davos said, “But we just need to stick with the plan….Unless… you are having second thoughts?”
“No.” Gendry shook his head, “No, I’m not. By the end of the day, I’ll be the King of Westeros, and Arya will be the only person able to sit on this throne.”
(*&*)
The next time he saw her after the trial, she was leading an army of Northern men towards a fray of Lannister supporters. Gendry had been seconds away from calling a retreat and saving what little of his army he could, but the howl of men and the pounding of hooves had stopped him. And there she was. Astride a white horse, Arya had led the charge of howling soldiers and bloodied Northmen. He watched as she met the army at a full gallop and did not see her until the end.
She had entered the commanders’ tent covered in blood and dragging Cersei’s lifeless body behind her by the queen’s foot. Many soldiers had offered to help her with the weight on her way, but she had just snapped at them. It was her prize. It was her accomplishment. And it was her way of rejoining society.
No one would think of the ten year old girl who had given a tearful testimony in the throne room. No one would think of how they had forced her to take the examination in front of everyone. No one would think of the girl who could not look anyone in the eye when she left.
They would remember her like this. Dripping in blood and dragging the body of a queen still impaled on her sword.
“My gods,” Robert said as she entered.
“I brought you your wife back, Your Majesty.”
(*&*)
The next time Gendry saw Arya, she was alone, walking down the hallway with his note in her hands. He grabbed onto her arm and pulled her into the dark closet with him.
“Gendry! Gods, you can’t do that to me! I could have killed you!” she cried.
“I was thinking about when you snuck down to the river after the Battle of Casterly Rock. Do you remember that?”
She rolled her eyes at him, “Of course, I do.”
“It was pitch black with no star or moon visible through the trees. And you were still covered in grime from the battle. And I really wanted to talk to you, so--”
“So, you followed me to the river. Yeah, I remember.”
“I just wanted to let you know that, you know, with the moon and the stars gone, you thought I wouldn’t see anything, but there was the light from the camp and, I should have told you, and I’m really sorry that I didn’t, but I-I sort of got an eyeful.”
Arya laughed, “Gendry.” she pressed her hand to his cheek, “I know you did.”
He stopped for a second, “You did?”
Arya only nodded.
“Oh.”
She looked at him curiously, “Why did you bring that up now? On your coronation day?”
“Because… with today and everything going on… I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I wanted to make sure we were okay.
”
She nodded, “We’re okay.” They stood wrapped around each other in the dark for a while, breathing each other in and shaking off the stress of the day. “So… How much of an eyeful did you get?”
Gendry laughed into her shoulder.
(*&*)
“Are you ready?” Arya asked as she brushed off his coronation outfit with her hand. They stood outside of the throne room. Everyone else had filtered in, leaving the couple alone.
“Yes, I’ve been ready for the past five minutes, but you insist on messing with me more.”
“Your hair won’t stay down. It never does.” She reached up to smooth his hair when he caught her hand.
“Arya, love.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, a blatantly romantic kiss that definitely broke her “no public displays of affection” rule. In his defense though, she looked so, so good. “I’m fine.”
She sighed, “You remember your lines?”
“All of them.”
“And you remember when you kneel?”
“Yes, love.”
“And you have to remember the sword goes in the right hand and the scepter in the left.”
“Arya,” Gendry grabbed her face in his hands, “I’m okay. I’m ready.”
He gave her a scalding kiss, and when he finally let go of her lips, she looked peeved, “Well, now you have lip paint all over you.”
(*&*)
“Here it is!” Arya called, jumping a little as she raced into the throne room. Gendry stood in the dark hall, trying to make out how high the ceiling was.
“It’s a lot brighter in the day,” Arya told him as she went to do a cartwheel, “And there are a lot of people in here. Too bad Father won’t let you come out of the Tower during the day.”
“He doesn’t let me out at night either,” Gendry told the little girl, “You did that.”
“You, my friend, were bored.” she said matter-of-factly. “I was done listening to you complain. Now, come on!”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him up through the room and up the stairs to the dimly lit throne.
“Look,” she said, “Some day you’ll sit there.”
Gendry studied the throne, taking in everything, “It’s got marvelous craftsmanship. The fire that made this must have been the hottest it can get.”
Arya rolled her eyes at him, but he just looked down at her, “What else can you show me?”
Arya smiled, “Do you want to see some dragon skulls?”
(*&*)
There was a large buzz going around the throne room as Arya came to take her seat. She did not realize why until she had taken a seat next to Sansa.
“What is that? And when did it get here?” Sansa pointed up to the front.
It was only then that Arya saw the second throne up on the stairs. “My gods.”
Lady Catelyn leaned over to whisper to her younger daughter, “That better not have anything to do with you.”
Sansa studied her sister for a moment, and Arya knew what she wanted to say. The Stark girl shook her head, “I swear to you, Sansa, I know nothing about it. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
Sansa shook her head, her face thoughtful, “No. You’re wrong. It has everything to do with you.”
(*&*)
The first time Arya had laid with Gendry, she was sixteen. Her father had already waved off multiple suitors asking for either of his daughters’ hands, and Arya had grown fonder and fonder of her bull. However, like everything else having to do with Gendry, this drastic change in their relationship had been brought about by an argument.
“This, Gendry, is why we had practiced what to do in front of the king. This is why we had gone over it time and time and time again.”
“Gods, Arry, you don’t have to tell me that! I already know!” Gendry did feel bad about his father’s shirt, but in his defense, the king had been asking for it.
“Oh! Oh, do you know?! You know how to behave in front of your father?!”
“It was one little mistake, Arry!”
“Little! Little is not a whole goblet of wine being thrown at your father.”
“I spilt the wine! I did not throw it at him!” He had, in fact, thrown it at his father, but he wasn’t going to admit that. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell Arya about his father’s comment about his best friend’s tits, no matter that his father had right been about how lovely they were.
“Looked like a throw to me!” Arya’s face was red with anger and pent up desire. The two best friends had been teasing each other all week. They never acknowledged that Gendry was the reason Arya’s neckline was getting lower and lower or that Arya was the reason Gendry had practiced with his war hammer shirtless countless days in a row. These were both undeniable truths, yet they were both too stubborn to admit it. It would only be a matter of time before the two either wound up in bed together or found other people to quench their thirst.
“Not everything you see is correct, Arya. Sometimes, you are very, very wrong about things, and if you won’t admit it then I will!”
“I know what my eyes saw!”
“And I know what my hand did! And it was slipping, not thrusting wine into my father’s face! I have control over what my body does, Arya!” He raised his hands as he talked as if to show her that he could, in fact, control them.
She only stared at his hands before her eyes flickered up to his face.
There it is, Gendry thought. He had waited for her to surrender her stubbornness and act on her feelings, and he knew his best friend well enough to know the time had come.
Neither of them said a word as their lips crashed together or when Arya’s back hit the wall.
She moaned as his lips travelled down her neck, her hands gripping onto his hair as his pulled up her dress. It had only taken moments before he had piled her skirt into her lap and wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Not in the hallway,” Arya said, her voice higher than usual as his hips ground against her center.
“No one’s coming.” Gendry’s lips crept back up to hers.
Arya let out a moan, her eyes fluttering closed, “No hallway.”
Gendry’s lips immediately came off her skin, but he refused to put her down. He gathered her up closer to him and took off down the hall, “Where’s the closest bedroom? You know this place better than anyone”
“Hallway to the left, last door.” She giggled, grabbing onto a doorway as they passed, “Left, Gendry. Left. Not right.”
He gave her a light kiss, spinning around and taking off down the hall.
(*&*)
The priest stood before the Iron Throne as music played through the hall. Arya, of course, knew the tune. She had been the one to decide it. She had been the one to decide everything in this throne room. The people in it, the drapes dressing it, and the proceedings entertaining it. This room belonged to her, bowed to her, even if it did not know it.
The only thing she did not command, the only thing she had no knowledge of, was that stupid chair. Stupid, stupid, stupid chair.
She, of course, knew who designed it. It had Gendry’s touch all over it with the strong lines and graceful curves. It was gorgeous. Everything that man’s hands did was… fantastic. But whatever else there was to know the creation, she was unaware.
Arya looked across the aisle to Ser Davos. She raised an eyebrow at him. To which he responded with a nervous smile. That did not make Arya feel any better. “This has nothing to do with me.”
Lady Stark took her husband’s hand, “Do you know?”
Eddard shook his head at his wife from where he stood on her other side. “No. Nothing.”
The Lady of the North sighed. “For the love of the gods, Arya Stark. We talked about this. You know how this will go.”
Arya’s face contorted. “Trust me, Mother, I remember.”
Everyone rose in their seats, and Arya did the same on instinct. She turned around to see Gendry, King Gendry, walking down the aisle of black and gold carpet. He looked so handsome, enough to make any girl swoon in his red cape sweeping behind him. She loved him more than life, more than the sun, more than the gods up above. And she would not be his downfall.
She would not. No matter how much it hurt, no matter what people said about her, she would be the reason he succeeded, not failed. She had committed her life to it. But that chair. It would mock her for the rest of her days.
Gendry met her eyes as he passed, and she shook her head at him. Whatever he had planned, he should not be doing. Planning was something they always left to Arya. For a reason.
Gendry had a heart of gold and the bravery of a lion. But he was her bull for a reason. He had the temper of one and the impulsivity of the beast too. But that was the beauty of this plan for him, wasn’t it? She never saw it coming. She doesn’t know what to expect. How would she when he had never made a plan to begin with.
Gendry stood at the top of the dais and turned towards the crowd of lords and ladies, and he began to recite his vows.
(*&*)
“I’ll take care of you.”
His voice was a whisper against her skin as his cock drove into her. Her hips stuttered as their cores met with a delicious friction. A piece of her hair fell out of her braid and into her eyes, and Gendry easily reached up a hand to push it away from her sweaty forehead.
It was hotter than all the hells combined in the Red Keep, and the body warmth they were now sharing was not helping things. At least the sheets underneath Arya felt cool against her skin as she hitched her legs up higher around Gendry’s hips. He cursed at himself sliding deeper into her, and he took one of her legs in his hand. Hooking it over his shoulder, Gendry challenged her body in a way only he could. In bed and on the battlefield.
Her equal in every way except title, he had been the only one to ever defeat her in combat. Their fights had become somewhat of a spectacle in recent years with several men and women standing a little too casually around the practice yard to watch. Gendry knew some were there to watch Arya. Arya knew some were there to watch Gendry. Both of them knew none of them would take either to bed. That was only for them.
“I’ll love you–gods, Arya– to the end of my days.”
“No.” It was a desperate plea to a best friend, even though Arya hated the word. “I can’t.”
“I’ll let you be free. Just marry me.”
She groaned under him both out of frustration and need. Arya was frustrated that he asked her to marry him. Frustrated he did it during sex. And so needy. So, so needy. For his cock, for his love, for whatever piece of him she could get her hands on.
“I can’t.” She held his face in her hands and told him what she knew would make him forget everything and fuck her. “You’ll find another pussy someday, and you’ll forget all about mine.”
He snarled at her, his pace picking up in a way that made her mouth open and her eyes fly to the back of her head. “Does that feel like I could forget about you? Huh?”
She came within a minute. And she was out of his bed within the hour.
(*&*)
“I now present King Gendry, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Defender of the Realm.”
The court claps, some enthusiastically and others… not enthusiastically. But there is nothing they can do about it now. Not without committing regicide.
No one is more powerful than him. No one can tell him no. No one can disobey him. He wears a crown on his head and a cape around his shoulders and a scepter in his hand. He owns the kingdoms and everyone in it.
His eyes scan the crowd until they lock on Arya. She smiles slightly at him, her eyes filling with love.
Gendry turns and sits on the Iron Throne, every bit the king he is. People clap around Arya until he waves his hands. Like the obedient subjects they are, they all stop.
Gendry looks to the right, taking in the throne next to him. Then he turns and looks at Arya. The whole hall goes quiet as Gendry clears his throat. “The royal family used to be great and strong with numerous members and many more possible through marriages and births. But now there is just me. And I feel the need to rectify this–”
Arya swings out of the row of chairs, walking quickly up the aisle. Not towards Gendry. No. She makes her way towards the Great doors, barely hearing murmurs all around her over the ringing in her ears. Suddenly those murmurs turn louder, but Arya doesn’t stop. She can’t.
She refuses to be here, not when she knows what he will do. Not when she knows that, just when he is at his strongest, he will tear herself down for her. She will not let him do that. If it means she has to leave King’s Landing right now… then so be it.
(*&*)
When Arya and Sansa returned to the North, they breathed in the cold air like it was a drug in their system. Passing through the Neck had been the hardest part of their journey, when they had been so close yet so far. But now that they were touching Northern soil, breathing Northern air, collecting Northern plants… Arya can’t remember why they were ever excited to leave for King’s Landing.
“Shall we?” Sansa said, gathering her horse next to Arya’s. She had become quite proficient at riding since they had left after the trial, and after a month, she was almost as good as Arya. She had refused a carriage, wanting to get her sister home as quickly as possible, and, though she had ridden a horse before, Arya had to teach her some tricks to staying on for long periods of time. It had been one of the things they had bonded over, one of the things one had taught the other.
Arya smiles at her sister, looking back at the crowd of people behind them. They were all Northern men, returning home with their young ladies, escorting them when their father couldn’t. They seemed just as excited as the sisters.
“We shall.”
They took off galloping down the road, throwing their hands out at their sides like they were hugging the air. They laughed until their sides were sore, ridden until their thighs were aching, and smiled until they couldn’t anymore.
Travelling through the North should have taken longer than the other kingdoms, but they found it to be the quickest. And soon, they were staring down at Winterfell, and their futures seemed bright. Their mother met them at the door, along with their other siblings and a man they had never met. He was older, not much so, but still enough to double Arya’s young age.
Lady Stark introduced Arya to the man first, telling her daughter he was a suitor.
“He’ll keep you safe, love. And he already has an heir, so he doesn’t mind too much. It took some convincing, but he’s willing.” Lady Stark soothed Arya’s hair behind her ear lovingly. Nervously.
Arya blinked at her mother, then looked at the man. He wasn’t too unattractive, but it was clear he didn’t own a single semblance of a backbone. He was nothing like her friend she had left in King’s Landing. One that treated her well, treated her like Joffrey and his hands had never happened. Surely… surely there was someone out there like him that was willing to marry her. Someone kind and sure and smart.
“This is the best you could do?” Arya asked her mother.
Her mother said nothing. The man glared at her, snapping easily, “Watch your tongue.”
Sansa barely managed to grab Needle away from her sister before the girl swung at the older man.
(*&*)
“Arya. Arya, wait.”
Shock radiated through Arya as she stopped outside the doors to the Great Hall. She turned to see Gendry, still holding his scepter with his crown on his head. He was not supposed to be here. He was not supposed to follow her.
“What in the seven hells are you thinking?” Arya gasped.
“I’m thinking that I want you. I want you, and you cannot tell me you do not want me. And all this stuff about not being free as a queen is just utter bullshit and you know it and–”
“Gendry, you cannot be here. You have to go back inside.”
“I can do what I damn well please. I’m the king!”
Arya stays quiet. He’s right. She can’t order him around any longer. And soon he’ll realize he’s just fine on his own. And he’ll be okay with her leaving. He’ll be okay with taking a bride that is not her, she just has to wait. Wait, and enjoy what little of him she will allow herself to have.
His shoulders slumped as he took in her expression. “I didn’t mean it like that, Arya. I didn’t mean it for you. I just meant that no one in there can tell me what to do. How to behave. Whom to love.”
“They can and they will.” Her voice was resolute. Knowing. “They have been doing it to me for years. They tell me time and time again whom to love. Whom to sleep with–”
“And how many times do you listen? None.”
“I figured out my own ways of getting out of things.”
“You’re right,” he smiled at her. “You scared away every suitor you’ve ever had. You’ve convinced them you are not worth fighting for.”
He bent down to her level. “But I’m not scared. And I know exactly what you’re worth. So how do you plan on getting out of this one? How are you going to convince me not to make you my queen?”
“Because of Joffrey,” the voice startles both lovers, and they turn to see Lady Stark. She had somehow slipped out of the throne room and towards two of the strongest warriors in the kingdoms without them noticing. And now she stood in front of them with tears in her eyes.
She shakes her head at her daughter, and she kneels in front of her. “My love, you need to tell him. You need to tell him why this will end with both your heads on a spike. He will always love you, just like your family will, but you need to explain to him why people won’t accept this marriage.”
Gendry turns to Arya, fear in his eyes. “What in the world does this have to do with Joffrey?”
“Mother,” Arya’s voice is soft, but Lady Stark only nods. She stands and kisses her daughter on the head before leaving.
Arya only stands with shaking hands.
“Love….” Gendry wants to soothe her, but he doesn’t know… something. And it’s scaring him.
“Joffrey didn’t just… attack me that day in the hallway. He… he wanted to get back at my dad for stealing the throne away from him. And I think he knew… about us. He at least knew we were friends and maybe believed we would be more….” She looks up at Gendry, at her greatest love, her only love, the one person she would ever let touch her because he had worked so diligently to earn her trust. And she waited for the pity she would see in his face. “He raped me, Gendry. He beat me and raped me and would have killed me had Sansa not have knocked him off me.”
The scepter falls out of Gendry’s hand, and Arya barely catches it before it clatters to the floor. She looks at it instead of her best friend. “He took my maidenhead. And if we were to have a kid… people would always wonder if it was his.”
Gendry shakes his head, “Why would it be his? That’s not… And why did you never—?”
“It’s a common belief, especially among high society that… semen can stay in a woman for years and—“
“That’s such bullshit.”
“Are you a healer? Have you studied this? We have no way of knowing when someone conceives and how long that seed was in her. And they will always, always wonder, Gendry.”
He shakes his head at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I never wanted you to find out.”
“I already knew about the attack, Arya. Why would this be—?”
“Because I was embarrassed, Gendry! I was nine! I didn’t even know what was happening, just that I was in pain. And then people looked at me differently. And people called me dirty. And your father wanted me to pull up my skirts for a maester in front of everyone at the trial to see if I was telling the truth.” She covered her face with a hand to hide her sob, and Gendry took the scepter from her other. He placed it on the ground, not giving a single shit about it before gathering Arya in his arms.
“I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I just wanted to be your friend. I just wanted to be in love with you. And then when we got older… I didn't want you to be scared to hold me.”
“I’ll always hold you, Arya. Always. It doesn’t change anything between us. It just makes me want to kill Joffrey again.”
She gives a wet laugh, and Gendry’s heart sighs with relief a little.
“I’m serious. I would cut his mangy blonde hair off at the nub and tear those eyes out of his sockets. Carve his ears into holes and—”
He stops suddenly, looking at her. His hands brush tears from her face. And the look on his face tells of plans and schemes. It’s a rare look from him, but it is one Arya knows can bring rebels to their knees and armies to heel.
Her eyebrows come together. “What?”
“His blonde hair. And his eyes.”
“Yes…. What about them?”
“Your father knew the Lannister Bastards were Lannisters because of their hair and eyes. They knew I was a Baratheon because all Baratheons have black hair and blue eyes.”
She catches on almost immediately. “Which means our kids would have black hair and blue eyes. And no one could second guess their parentage.”
Her eyes spin with metallic thoughts, looking far off as if she can see each possible future from this time on. “But what if it is his? What if they’re right about how long–”
“The seed is strong, right?” He cocks his head in superiority. “What makes you think Joffrey’s is stronger than mine?”
She rolls her eyes at him. “They could have our heads the moment we wed. There would be no waiting to see what color hair our child has if we don’t even have the time to create one.”
He shrugs. “I was going to take you on an extended honeymoon anyway.”
She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“There’s a boat in the harbor waiting to take us anywhere you want to go. But I told them to assume we’re going to the White Harbor first. Think a year is enough time to make a kid?”
She crosses her arms over her chest but she hides a smile. “Depends on just how strong that seed really is.”
He takes her face in his hands. “You have no more excuses, Arya. You love me and I love you. I don’t intend on letting you go. You’re either mine now or mine later. I’ll let you pick.”
She studies him closely before looking down at his hands. She’s seen those hands in various states over years. Covered in soot, covered in blood. Wrapped around a man’s throat, wrapped around her waist. Inside gloves and armor and her. She would kill to see a ring on that hand.
“Now.”