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Chapter Text

"Why can't you be more like your sister?" Catelyn Stark wailed at her youngest daughter Arya. Arya had always been a handful, especially in comparison to her other four children.

"When will you understand that I'm not Sansa?" Arya shrieked as she stomped up the stairs in her heavy combat boots.

"Can't you just try to fit in? Please," Catelyn sighed loudly, "do this for me."

She was promptly answered with the slamming of a door from overhead.

Arya exhaled loudly before she let her small body slide down the length of the door, where she proceeded to slump, her head between her knees. Sansa, Sansa, Sansa, she thought bitterly. Why aren't you more like Sansa? Perfect Sansa. Pretty Sansa. Everybody just loves Sansa. But Arya did not want to be like her airheaded sister, she had no desire to moon over pretty boys and follow every rule their parents set to a tee.

After a few minutes of sitting perfectly still, evening out her breathing, and raising her head from between her knees, she collected herself from the carpeted floor and flattened her palms against her thighs. Arya stumbled over to her wardrobe and flung the doors open before grabbing all of the pretty pink dresses her mother had bought her over the years and stuffing them into an empty bag. Sansa can have them, for all I care, she thought as she filled the first bag. She tied a rough knot on the three bags full of pretty clothing and tossed them all into the hallway outside of her bedroom on the landing of the stairs.

She quickly ran a brush through her unruly dark hair, and swiped her sunglasses and coat from her desk before hastily exiting her room, closing the door as gently as she could. Arya rushed down the stairs, careful that her boots made as little sound as possible.

As she rounded the hallway and had her hand upon the front doorknob, she turned and shouted over her shoulder, "I'm going out! Don't wait up!" Before waiting for a response, she stole out of the house and lightly jogged over the lush grassy lawn into the crisp autumn wind. She pushed her sunglasses onto her nose and ran her fingers through her hair once again.

Arya had no particular place to go to, but it was a Friday afternoon, and she was bound to be able to find something to do. The Stark's had recently relocated from Winterfell in the North to the posh King's Landing one of the Southern most point of the country, which was hundreds of leagues away from everything she had ever known, as well as her favourite older brother Jon. Arya had not made any friends at the school that her and Sansa had started at, while her sister had been absorbed into the popular group as soon as she had set foot onto the school grounds. Not that Arya minded, she had never had any intention of trying to befriend any of the snobs that were attending the private grammar school, affectionately known as the Red Keep by the student body, the Stark parents had enrolled their children in. Arya's younger brothers Bran and Rickon would be attending the same school when they reached high school age, assuming that the Stark's were still in Kings Landing, and Bran had finished with his physical therapy from the fall he had taken mere weeks before they were set to leave for King's Landing, which Arya sincerely hoped that they weren't.

Arya had been dawdling along the main street for about ten minutes when she saw a dim café that sat almost hidden amongst the gaudy stores that surrounded every other inch of this strip of road. She stepped into the dusky store, the sharp smell of nicotine and caffeine hitting her nostrils as soon as she was within the premises. She pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and noticed that there were only a few tables within the café, and only one of them was occupied by a hulking figure, with smoke wafting above his head and hitting the ceiling in pretty plumes. There was a young man standing behind the counter, absently wiping porcelain mugs and looking deeply lost within his thoughts. Arya watched him as he continued to wipe the same mug; upon closer inspection she noticed that he was a lot younger than she'd initially thought, Arya surmised that he couldn't be any older than her, at sixteen. His hair was the colour of straw and he was rather plump, his chin wobbling slightly as he cleaned the same dish again and again.

When he looked up, finally noticing the presence of a customer, Arya averted her eyes, and took a seat at a table that looked out onto the street. She perched carefully, making sure to keep her eyes trained on what was ahead of her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out to see that her mother was trying to call her. She placed the phone on the table in front of her; it proceeded to buzz loudly against the hard wood.

"Not gonna answer that?" asked a deep voice from behind her.

Arya gave a start, but did not turn to see who had approached. "Wasn't planning on it," she stated bitingly before flicking her eyes up to see a tall man standing above her. He had thick black hair that hung too long in his face, she noted. His eyes were a bright ocean blue, and there was a smirk that lingered on his face, with a dimple piercing his right cheek. Arya then noticed his arms, which were bulked with muscles and tanned, framed in a slim fitting white t-shirt. She flushed and averted her gaze back to the traffic rushing past on the main street.

The man cleared his throat, and asked in a gruff voice, "What can I get for you?"

"Can I just get a triple espresso?" Arya asked flashing him a closed mouth smile and fixing him with a stare from her stormy grey eyes.

He lifted his eyebrows, but didn't say anything other than, "Coming up," before striding to the counter and handing the straw-haired boy the paper he had scrawled her order on. Arya watched the interaction from where she twisted in her seat. The pair laughed at something out of her earshot, and both glanced over to see the stares they were receiving from Arya's table. Arya hurriedly turned back to looking out of the window. There was now a young couple pressed against the glass, Arya thought it looked like the guy was trying to suck one of the girls lungs up. Cringing, she decided that she'd seen enough of what the streets of Kings Landing had to offer, so she promptly swapped to a seat on the opposite side of the table. This way, she was also able to observe the spectacle of the café she was in with ease.

There was a bell situated above the door that rang loudly as the door opened and in stepped a man with vibrant red hair that was streaked white blonde on one side. Arya eyed him curiously from her vantage point, and she noticed that the two young men who worked at the establishment watched him with a careful eye as he sat at a table that faced the front of the store, and then locked eyes with Arya; insolent grey eyes meeting cool hazel ones. Arya did not break their eye contact until the man with black hair appeared with her coffee on a saucer with a napkin and a small scrap of paper sticking beneath the edge of the mug.

She eyed the boy carefully as she laid the mug onto the table and moved to grab the scraggly piece of paper. He gave a sharp shake of his head, and whispered, "Open it in a few minutes."

Bewildered, Arya was trying to think of what to tell this stranger when he abruptly turned on his heel and strode to the table of the man with dual-toned hair. Arya's phone began to buzz on the table again, and she noticed that the four other men in the café had fixed their eyes on her and the loud vibrations of her phone. She felt the heat begin to rise in her cheeks and she looked down to see that it wasn't her mother calling, but her younger brother Bran.

Relieved, Arya quickly answered the call with a light sigh, "Hi Bran," she whispered awkwardly in the near-silent café. "How's physical therapy?"

"Ugh," her younger brothers voice rang through her phone's tinny speaker. "Don't even get me started."

"At least you didn't have to come down to hell. I swear, if I have to listen to another word about how great the schools and job opportunities are here," Arya groaned. Her parents had not stop shoving college pamphlets and praising the superior educational system of the South for the past 3 weeks they had been here. "How is home? Are the dogs okay? How about Robb? Have you heard from Jon recently?"

"Home is freezing," Bran laughed. Winterfell was one of the coldest places in the country at the best of times, and the encroaching winter was looking to be one of the worst of the past few decades. "Summer's great, so's Grey Wind," Bran paused before adding, "Shaggydog's not coping well at all. I think he misses Rickon." Both Stark children let out a sigh. Rickon had let his dog grow wild, and now Bran and Robb were set to look after his beast, though he only responded well to young Rickon. "But we'll be alright. Robb's good, I think. He's stripped some of his university workload, and has focussed on spending more time working at Dad's factory while he's away. I think he sometimes forgets that it's Dad's company."

Arya laughed; Robb had the tendency to take things a little too seriously at the best of times. With half of the Starks moving South to collaborate Stark Incorporated and Baratheon Industries, Arya's father, Ned Stark, had asked Robb to fill in a little bit with certain meetings and important decisions, but as Arya had suspected would happen, Robb got into his mind that he was head of the company in the North now. Lord Robb Bran and Arya had jokingly nicknamed him when he got all holier-than-thou.

"I haven't heard a scrap of news from Jon though," Bran said sadly. Jon was their half-brother, Jon Snow. He was Arya's favourite brother, though she couldn't tell anyone that she had a favourite. Jon, who had turned 21 not too long ago, he had graduated high school at the age of 16 and left home to go to a prestigious university that was even farther north than Winterfell, known as The Wall to students.

Arya sighed, "Yeah, me either. I hope he hasn't gone on another one of his spelunking adventures without telling us." The only reason Arya hoped that, was that the last time Jon told her of his adventures she'd made him promise that he would take her along with him on the next one.

"Listen, the reason I'm calling," Bran started talking fast, and his voice shook as he tried to force the words out, "is…"

"Mother called you," Arya stated, interrupting him.

"Yes," Bran breathed, "but I did want to talk to you, I just haven't gotten around to calling in the last few days."

"It's alright Bran, but you can inform her that I won't be home until late tonight," she said in a clipped voice before softening. "Look, I'm sorry you're in the middle of this, but I've got to go. I'll give you a call next week sometime. Miss you."

"Miss you too," she heard Bran say with a sigh as she clicked the phone off.

Arya picked up the mug that rested in front of her and took a sip of the strong bitter coffee, relishing the taste as the coffee hit the back if her throat. She closed her eyes and took another long pull of the black liquid into her mouth. She let out a contented sigh, though when she opened her eyes and looked around the café, she noticed that the man with the black hair, and the man with the red and white hair were both watching her. Awkwardly, she tried to turn to her side as she took another swig of her coffee and began to pull her purse out, she plucked a couple of notes and tossed them onto the table. She tossed back the last of the coffee and collected the scrap of paper from the saucer along with her coat.

She knocked her chair back beneath the table and made for the door, her mind swam with thoughts of her younger brother; he was only a year younger than her and crippled for life. The doctors said he would never walk again after his fall. Bran had always been a climber, he would climb anything and everything, trees, buildings; Arya and him had always dreamed of joining Jon on his spelunking journeys—Arya for the adventure, and Bran for climbing and scaling unfamiliar ground.

As Arya pushed through the front door of the small café she was assaulted by a harsh breeze that nearly knocked her from her feet. She pulled the collar of her coat up to cover her neck and cursed herself for not bringing a woollen beanie as she felt her ears begin to sting with cold. Arya began walking as fast as she could, trying to find somewhere to be, she was not ready to go home, didn't want to speak with her mother, not yet.

Soon, she found herself approaching a park, where the setting sun shone brightly, and the park benches were free of people and screaming children. Arya set herself upon the closest bench with a street lamp just flickering on above her perch. She raised her hands to her face and rubbed her cold cheeks until she gained the feeling back, before burrowing her hands within the depths of her coat pockets in an attempt to warm them as best as she could, when she felt the scrap of the paper from the man in the café.

Gingerly, she plucked the note from her jacket and unfolded it. The note read: Gendry. Gathering at Duskendale tonight. 10 pm, which was followed by a messily scrawled phone number. Very funny, Arya thought bitterly. No one would ever invite her anywhere; everyone always treated her like a kid due to her short stature and scrawny physique. Arya stood at just 5'1" and did not even reach 100lbs in weight, she rarely wore make up and was currently dressed in jeans and a scraggly old t-shirt that had once belonged to Jon, it's black colour washed to a faded grey and the design on the front cracked from age. She scrunched the note into a ball and tossed it towards the bin that sat on the opposite end of the bench.

A shiver ran through Arya as she tapped her feet in a feeble attempt to warm any part of her body. She heard a rustling from behind her, and as she was turning around to see what was making the noise, she felt a hand press against her shoulder. As quick as a snake, she clasped the arm of the one touching her and pried it from her shoulder and bent it back with a force that was usually not seen in someone so small.

"Arya!" her assailants' high-pitched voice wailed. "Leave off! It's Sansa!"

Arya dropped the wrist and looked up to see her sisters' face screwed up in pain. She let out a relieved breath before snapping at Sansa, "What do you think you're doing?" She huffed angrily, "Don't you know not to sneak up on people!"

Sansa arced up at Arya's tone, "Well, I wouldn't have to sneak up on anyone if you didn't run off all the time! Everyone's been worrying themselves to death over you, and here you are just relaxing in the park like it's a nice summer's day."

"Oh, yeah," Arya breathed, her words dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure everyone's just all in a tizzy. Just go home Sansa. I'll be there later."

But her sister did not budge, she just pushed her long auburn hair behind her ear, and gazed at Arya with her deep Tully blue eyes. Arya and Sansa were polar opposites, where Arya was short, Sansa was tall and lithe, with curves and breasts, while Arya was straight up and down with small buds for breasts that scarcely needed a bra for support. Sansa looked just like their mother Catelyn had as a child, with Robb, Bran, and Rickon all sharing the same auburn hair and deep blue eyes. Everyone said Arya had the Stark look; she had a long face framed with dark hair and grey eyes, the same as her father and Jon. They all say that she was a dead-ringer for the late aunt Lyanna, though Lyanna was often described as one of the most beautiful women anyone had ever laid eyes on. Arya often scoffed when people made the comparison.

"How about," Sansa started lightly, just above a whisper, "we go out and grab a drink?"

Arya hesitated; her sister never usually invited her to do anything together, often treating her like an acquaintance, rather than a blood relative. Arya would typically have just snapped that she didn't need anyone's charity, but it was getting awfully cold as the sun dipped below the trees and the wind picked up. "Okay," Arya sighed, glad to have something else to do than sit in the empty park any longer.

They walked side by side in silence, the wind blowing both of their hair wildly behind them. They soon came upon the café that Arya had vacated just an hour earlier, but before she could say anything, her sister stepped within the dim room that now had candles lit upon the tables which were crowded with men and women who looked to be in their late-twenties and early-thirties dressed in bright colours and bowler hats with extravagant make up and tittering wildly about some party tonight that was going to be "just divine".

"Oh well," Arya whispered in her sisters' ear, "looks a bit crowded in here. We should probably find somewhere else to get to." And as soon as the words were out, the man with dark hair, Gendry, with the note was smiling in her direction and waving signalling her to come over to the counter.

"Do you know him?" Sansa said with a giggle as she flashed a look back at the man with his bright, smiling eyes and bulging muscles.

"Not really, I was in here earlier today," Arya admitted as Sansa grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her towards the counter.

"Back so soon?" he asked with a laugh.

Sansa gave her a look that Arya just brushed off. "Well, I figured the coffee was so good, I would show my lovely sister Sansa here," she nodded at her sister, "just how good it is."

He nodded at her, "Nice to meet you Sansa, Gendry," he said by way of introduction. Pleasantries were exchanged between the two, and Arya sighed deeply, and planted herself on one of the stools that lined the front of the countertop. Gendry moved his eyes towards Arya, "Well, you know my name, but I have no clue who you are," he said with a smirk.

"Arya," she stated.

"So," he continued, unperturbed by her dark demeanour, "are you coming to Duskendale tonight Arya?"

Arya looked at him blankly, and remembered the note he had given her; the note she had tossed into the rubbish. Before Arya could get a word out, her sister had interrupted, "Duskendale? Is that where The Seven are playing tonight?"

Arya's expression remained blank. Who are The Seven? Where even is Duskendale? "Who?" she asked dumbly.

"The Seven," Sansa nearly shouted at her younger sister. "You can't tell me that you haven't heard of them." Though judging by her expression, Sansa picked up the unfamiliarity with them. "They are just one of the best bands to come out of Westeros in the last, like, 700 years."

Arya rolled her eyes. Sansa had a very definite way of over exaggerating ever little thing, and her taste in music certainly didn't fit in with her younger sisters love of rock 'n' roll, indie, and electro. "What's this? Some new S-Club group then?"

Gendry let out a snort of laughter at Arya's light jape, though her sister had the very opposite reaction with her eyes darkening in anger, "Arya! You always ruin everything!" she whispered harshly at her sister, trying the keep her voice down so as not to cause a scene. Arya just smiled back at her sister, which caused her to shut her mouth, but continue to steam angrily.

"If you're interested," Gendry offered, "I can get your names put onto the list, a buddy of mine is working the doors at the Dun Fort."

Arya was just about to decline the offer, when Sansa nearly jumped off of her stool and rushed to say, "Oh, that would be amazing!"

Gendry had a rather amused smile on his face. "S'not a problem, just write down your names and numbers here," he said pushing a scrap of paper from his order pad in front of them before turning around to help a customer who was shouting impatiently for service.

"Sansa," Arya hissed at her sister as she was writing her details upon the sheet of paper. "What do you think you are doing? We can't go to Duskendale tonight. You were just trying to drag me home, not half an hour ago."

"It'll be fine, sweet sister," Sansa said in a sweeter-than-honey tone. "I'll just call Dad and let him know that you're staying the night out with Jeyne Poole and I."

"Oh, yeah," Arya scoffed, "that won't seem odd in the slightest, as I always spend time with you and your airheaded friends."

"Hey! Play nice. Anyway, this will keep you out of the house and away from Mother, isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"

A smug smile spread upon Sansas' face as Arya stayed silent, not able to come up with a plausible excuse to change her sisters' mind. "Fine," she sighed as she picked up the pen and lazily scrawled Arya Stark, followed by her phone number underneath that of her sisters neat, loopy handwriting. "But if we get murdered while at this Fort place, I am going to be so pissed."

"Oh, please, don't be so dramatic," she said before leaning over and mussing Arya's hair playfully. Arya scowled at her sister, who simply poked her tongue out at her.

They ordered two coffees, Arya's triple espresso, and a skinny soy vanilla latte for Sansa. "Ugh, that is disgusting," Sansa had scolded her when she'd gotten her strong black coffee.

"This?" Arya asked incredulously. "Look at yourself. You stumbled even ordering the damn thing. If you don't like the taste of coffee, and have to smother it in milk and sugar syrups, I don't understand why you even drink the stuff."

Arya and Sansa constantly bickered as they grew up, with Sansa being a girly girl and Arya being the polar opposite. Sansa had been so excited when her baby sister had been brought home from the hospital, she would get to play dolls and dress ups with someone. Growing up with two older brothers for the first two years of her life had left her with a need for female companionship, and she had been ecstatic when her parents had announced that she would have a little sister. Though once Arya was old enough the walk and talk, Sansa's hopes were dashed, it was just like having another brother. Arya preferred going on adventures with their older brothers and playing in the mud, while Sansa liked the indoors and playing tea parties and neat games. Their bickering had not ceased, even now at ages 16 and 18 they still fought like they were 6 and 8, though with less hair pulling.

After a few more moments of arguing Arya had had enough. "Just call Dad," she instructed her sister. Sansa walked away from the counter and stepped outside into the cold rush of wind on the street.

Arya sighed and took another sip of her coffee, the warmth rushing down her throat and spreading across her chest. Gendry walked back behind the counter and asked in a serious voice, "So, are you two really sisters?"

Arya just nodded. Of course he was asking about Sansa, Everybody always does. Her conversation with her mother from before she stomped out of the house ringing through her head, "Why can't you be more like your sister?"

"You look nothing alike," he noted giving her a quick once over, which left her flushing and pulling her coat tight around her waist, covering the ratty t-shirt that covered her torso.

"Yeah, I look like my dad, and she looks like our mother and brothers," she said without really thinking. She snapped her mouth shut, she didn't even know this man, and she was just opening up to him about her family, something she never did.

"So, I haven't seen you around here before," Gendry commented as he collected the sheet with their information on it.

"Just moved down," she said. "Temporarily," or at least she hoped it was temporary.

"Oh, really?" Arya couldn't stop staring into his bright blue eyes as he continued to talk and question her. "Where from?"

"Winterfell," Arya answered shortly. She was willingly giving up all of this information about herself, while she had heard nothing of the man in front of her. "What about you? Where are you from?" she eyed him carefully, she was always good at spotting liars.

"King's Landing, born and bred," he said, before switching the topic back to her. "So, Winterfell, how does the coldest autumn in fifty years in King's Landing compare to up North?" he was smiling as he asked the question.

"This isn't cold," Arya stated, though a few hours ago, her body had been screaming at her to get out of the chill. "Winterfell in July is cold, gets down to below 0°. But I don't know how anyone can grow their whole lives in the heat you get down here. The week I arrived, it was 40° for five days straight."

"You get used to it," Gendry chuckled as Sansa was walking back up to them, tucking her phone into the pocket of her skirt. "So, how are you ladies getting up to Duskendale this evening?"

Arya frowned at being called 'ladies.' But Sansa was on the ball, "Oh, I'm driving, a friend of mine was already thinking of going, so I'm going to pick her up along the way. What time does the show start?"

"Around ten pm. Write down your friends name if you want."

"Great, we'll see you there," Sansa scrawled Jeyne's name down in her loopy, girly handwriting, before draining the last of her coffee and tugged Arya to her feet.

"Lovely to meet you, milady," Gendry said with a smile and a wink as Arya clambered to her feet.

Arya scowled at him before slinking out of the now bustling café, she heard him laughing as the bell above the door rang when she flung it open.

The wind had begun to die down a bit, and the chill in the air now felt welcoming to Arya after the overcrowded café.

Sansa looked her sister up and down, "Okay, before we do anything. You cannot go anywhere wearing that t-shirt. You look like an urchin."

"I thought the whole point of this was to keep me out of the house, and away from the parental figures," Arya pointed out, angry at Sansa's appraisal of her outfit.

"Who said anything about going home for clothes?" Sansa said with a sparkle in her eye that Arya did not like the look of.

They began to trawl down the bustling main street. Friday nights seemed to draw out almost all of the residents of King's Landing, to either the pubs or to the high-end shopping. Sansa dragged Arya into a range of different stores that were filled with delicate, feminine clothing, blouses and dresses and skirts that Arya had no want to wear.

After the fifth store they had left, Sansa was grumbling quietly about her sister and her pickiness, Arya spotted a small store with a dark façade and a range of band posters lining the front window, with Arctic Monkeys, Modest Mouse, Frightened Rabbit, and Weezer amongst them.

"Ugh, Arya," Sansa complained as she saw where her sister was walking, "you're not really going in there, are you?"

"Come on, Sans, it doesn't have to go onto your body. So, calm yourself."

They traipsed into the tightly packed store. There was a young woman with short dark hair standing behind the cash register. Her heavily made up eyes flicked up as the sisters walked into the store, a gust of cool air following them. "Can I help you?" she asked the pair.

"Just browsing," Sansa called for the both of them.

They looked through the rows and rows of shirts and jackets, jeans and skirts. Sansa picked up a range of different shirts, and blouses to show Arya. These were definitely more to her style; there were a couple of sheer shirts in maroon and turquoise, t-shirts with patterned pockets and cartoon prints, but the one that grabbed Arya's attention was black lacy shirt with a low cut back and triangular cut outs on the sides, with sleeves that reached just above the elbows.

Sansa smiled contentedly as she saw her younger sisters grey eyes widen. She thrust the shirt towards her and proceeded to look through the eclectic mix of jewellery and accessories. She pulled up a silver wolfs head pendant and dangled it in front of her younger sisters face. "Oh, Sansa. It looks just like Nymeria, doesn't it?"

Nymeria was Arya's dog, from the same litter that had Ghost, Grey Wind, Lady, Summer, and Shaggydog. They were owned by each of the Stark children, Jon included—Arya always included Jon as a Stark, despite his different surname. All of the dogs had strange features, they looked like a pack of wolves, and they were some of the largest dogs any of the Starks had ever seen. Arya had sent Nymeria running, set her free in order to keep her safe. She had always hated been cooped up at their home in Winterfell, and Arya could sympathise with her need for freedom and adventure, Arya could never sit still she needed to move around, didn't like staying in the same place for too long.

"Come on, this'll do," Arya said, swiping the necklace from her sisters grasp and collecting the lacy shirt she was purchasing and grabbing a black leather jacket from a display in her size and placing them upon the counter in front of the young woman, whose nametag read: Shae.

"You girls up to much this evening?" Shae asked kindly as she began scanning the items and removing the anti-theft pins.

"Oh, we're heading up to Duskendale for The Seven's show tonight," Sansa almost squealed with excitement.

"I might see you there."

"Christ, does everyone in this city know something I don't?" Arya mumbled. She had not even heard of The Seven until an hour and a half ago.

"Don't mind Arya," Sansa said, while smiling at the sales assistant. "She hasn't heard The Seven yet."

"Oh, don't worry darl', you're going to love them," Shae informed her with a knowing smile. She pointed at the ragged t-shirt she was wearing, which was a vintage Joy Division shirt, the cracked print and the fraying hem and collar showing the years of love it had received. "They're kind of like The Strokes meets Interpol."

When they'd finished ringing up the items, and Sansa had put the bill onto the visa card their father had given her when she had turned sixteen. She wouldn't let Arya see the bill and how much everything had costed as they made their way back to the car. It was getting pretty late by the time they reached the vehicle. Their fathers' black BMW M3 convertible sat gleaming under a streetlamp, the girls rushed to the sanctuary of the vehicle and climbed in out of the cold.

Sansa immediately started the car and blasted the heater and the radio. "Get changed," she instructed Arya as she thrust the bag of clothes into her lap.

Arya obeyed as the car began to roar down the dark street. She stripped her coat and shirt from her shoulders, and was sitting in just a black bra when she noticed a motorcycle sitting parallel to their car, and she quickly slumped herself against the back of the car seat even though it was likely too dark to see. She pulled her new shirt over her head, and tugged it over her waist, where it cinched in. She pulled the pendant over her neck and tossed the leather jacket over her shoulders. By the time she looked back out of the window the motorcycle was gone, and they were passing through the town of Rosby, just north of King's Landing, where Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole lived.

"Tell me again, why you hang out with Jeyne," Arya said snidely as she watched her sister.

"Come off it Arya," Sansa snapped. "She's my friend. I guess you wouldn't know much about that though."

Just as Arya was ready to spew a fountain of profanities at her sister, she slammed on the brakes in front of a quaint family house. "Here we are," Sansa breathed before Arya could say anything back. "Get into the back seat," Arya did as she was commanded, she couldn't be bothered arguing anymore with her sister. She was going to have to try and drown out the mindless drivel that her sister and her friend were going to be chatting about for the next twenty minutes until they reached Duskendale.

Jeyne slid into the front seat with her dark hair tied into a high ponytail on the top of her head and her dark eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, she was dressed in a pale blue peter pan collar dress with a white trim detailing the buttons that lined the front of the dress, and a beige cardigan draped across her shoulders. She's going to freeze to death, Arya though as she rubbed her own hands along the thighs of her jeans in order to warm her legs through the denim.

"Hey Arya," Jeyne greeted with a smile from her lips that were pale pink with lipstick.

"Hi," Arya mumbled as Sansa was climbing into her own side of the car.

"You'll never guess what Jeyne," Sansa was saying as she turned the key in the ignition, "Arya still hasn't heard The Seven!"

"No way! I'll hook my iPod into the radio and you'll see what you're in for tonight," there was a slow build up of guitars as the first track started. "Everyone loves them. They're the best thing in King's Landing!"

The rhythm guitar kicked in, building the pace of the track, and a deep voice began to sing. Arya was actually surprised, they weren't too bad. Pretty raw, a bit garage-y, but what surprised her most of all was that Sansa and her actually liked something that was the same. "Wow, this isn't too bad," Arya informed them as they skipped onto the next track.

"Told ya," Sansa said poking out her tongue at her younger sister in the rear vision mirror.

The rest of the car ride Arya stayed silent, drowning out the sounds of her sisters' conversation and keeping her eyes closed. Soon they were driving through the cobbled streets of Duskendale. The streets were lined with darkened storefronts, and there was a lighthouse shining off the coast and over the Blackwater Bay. They drove through the winding streets of Duskendale for a few minutes before they drove up an incline that led up to what Arya assumed was the Dun Fort.

There was quite a crowd forming out the front of the venue, with people milling about, a fair few wearing shirts that boasted The Seven. It was just after 9:30 when Sansa pulled the BMW into park between a row of heavy looking choppers and a bunch of muscle cars. The two older girls hopped out of the three-door car before Arya could push forward the passenger's seat and scramble out of the car very ungraciously. Her hair was tangling in front of her eyes as she quickly tried to swipe the strands behind her ears. The gust that assaulted the three girls was strong and chilled Arya right to the bone. She pulled the jacket tighter around her and crossed her arms as she began to walk the short way up to where the crowd was waiting by the front doors of the Dun Fort.

As the three of them got to the doors, Arya strode purposefully for the front of the line, and stated their names. They were handed a handful of drinks cards each, weren't asked for ID and bypassed the huge line entirely.

Sansa and Jeyne were smiling like crazy, and Jeyne asked how she'd managed to get them onto the list at such short notice. "Oh, you have Arya to thank for that," she said tossing a wink at her younger sister.

Arya rolled her eyes, and told her sister to message her if she needed her, and that they'd catch up after the show. Arya quickly escaped from her sister and walked up to the crowded bar, she had never been able to get away with having any more than a glass of wine with dinner when she was with her parents, and everyone knew the Starks in Winterfell, so she couldn't even get served at the local pub in Winter Town. She soon snaked her way to the front of the bar where she was reading all the labels on the liquor bottles lining the mirrored wall behind the bar, when a body stepped in front of her. She lifted her gaze to the young woman who was serving behind the bar, she quickly ordered an ale; when it was placed in front of her she kept her gaze down and passed her one of the drinks cards, hoping she didn't notice how young she looked and kick her out. Though she didn't say anything, just gave her a strange look and continued about serving the other rowdy youths that were crowded around the bar.

With her beer in hand, Arya moved through the crowd and into the front of the hall where the stage was set up, crowded with different sized speakers, a large drum set at the back of the stage and a variety of different instruments. She could scarcely see the floor of the stage over all of the bodies that were already waiting at the front of the stage when a voice whispered just above her ear, "Milady."

She whipped around with a glare, "Do not call me milady," she scolded Gendry, whom she had just met a few hours earlier. She nearly spilled the beer that she was holding all over him in her haste, though the action only served to make him laugh.

"As milady commands," he breathed between his laughter. She shoved him in the shoulder, hard, though it seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever, as his laughter just seemed to increase. "Aren't you a bit young for that?" he asked pointing at the pint that was held tightly in her hand after he had recovered.

She frowned at him, "See, now, why would they serve me if I was too young?"

"Pretty girl like you, I bet they give them to you free as well."

Arya nearly burst out laughing, 'pretty' had never been a word people used to describe her. The most common name she had received when she was growing up had been Arya Horseface, with Arya Underfoot coming in a close second. "No. Really, no," she said before remembering that she had in fact been given the free drinks cards upon her entry.

"Well, I'm sure you'll like The Seven," he informed her. "Nothing like S-Club," he let her know with another grin, his bright blue eyes dancing. "Do you still have my number? Maybe we can catch up after the show."

Arya shook her head; she had thrown it out, thinking it was just a joke being played on her. But she handed him her phone to put his number in, she had no idea why he wanted to talk with her. Probably to see Sansa, Arya sighed inwardly. "I've gotta run, I'll see you around though," he said with a wink and a mischievous grin as he handed her phone back, "Milady."

Before Arya even had a chance to react, Gendry was darting through the crowd away from her. And then Arya was stood amongst a throng of unfamiliar people with her vision obscured by the row of people who were over a head taller than her. After she finished her beer, she crumpled the plastic cup and tossed it onto the floor, the alcohol was going straight to her head before she realised that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. The rush of warmth to her face that followed the ale, and the wobbly feeling in her legs was telling her that the one pint was more than enough on her empty stomach.

As the stage area continued to fill, the lights began to dim, and raucous cheering and applauding began as the crowd began to chant "Se-ven! Se-ven! Se-ven!" repeatedly.

There were a couple of figures entering onto the stage that Arya could see, and the crowd began to push wildly, with Arya being thrust around violently, though she managed to be pushed forward, where she was behind a pair of younger girls, whom she could just see over the top of. There was a man with a shaggy beard and wearing a bright yellow jacket that climbed behind the drum set, and the bassist was almost right in front of Arya who looked rather young with pale blonde hair. One of the guitarists was a slightly older man with thinning brown hair and a long, pointed nose; the man on keyboard stood very tall, as he stooped above his instrument, his large stomach poking out beneath his bright red t-shirt. There was a tall young man with red-gold hair that stepped up to the microphone and shouted his greetings into the crowd. It was right then that Arya noticed the rhythm guitarist, who stood on the opposite side of the stage, and was slightly obscured by the lead singers tall figure. The guitarist had shaggy black hair, and muscles bulging from beneath his white t-shirt. "Well, I'm sure you'll like The Seven," he had informed her. That cocky bastard, she thought as she watched Gendry pick up his instrument.

The first song started with a rapid pace that had the first dozen rows jumping and thrashing about. After the first few songs, the lead singer introduced himself and his band mates, "I am Beric, this strapping lad beside me is Gendry, on drums is Lem, keyboards is Thoros, that guitar over there is ol' Tom O'Sevens, and on bass is little Edric," the bassist frowned at Beric.

So, who's the seventh? Arya thought, it would be rather stupid to have a band called The Seven when it only had six members.

"And last, but in no way least, we have Anguy mixing for us," Beric nodded to where a tower of speakers had been set up, with a young man with red hair and freckles who gave a sheepish wave to the crowd that had turned their heads his way. "And without any further adieu, here's one of our new tracks."

They proceeded to burst out with a fast-paced grunge-sounding track with catchy lyrics that had the audience chanting along. Arya caught the eye of Gendry once in the middle of one of the songs when he was leaning into his microphone singing backups. Arya quickly averted her gaze, and watched the bassist, Edric, who was standing almost directly in front of her.

There was no denying that the band had a presence, they commanded everyone in the entire hall, and their sound was catchy and danceable. They played for another half an hour, with Arya slipping out the back of the crowd up to the bar once again. The beer she'd had earlier had left her flushed, but she was feeling much better than when it had first hit her like a punch in the chest.

She strode up to the near-empty bar and ordered another pint, and taking a seat on one of the vacated couches at the back of the Dun Fort. She nodded her head along with the heavy beat, the bass reverberating through her chest. After their set had finished, Arya's phone began to buzz. Sansa's message read, "OMG, I didn't realise Gendry was in The Seven!"

"Ready to leave?" Arya replied, halfway through her beer.

"Oh, not just yet. It's still early. Half an hour and then we'll meet at the car."

Another message buzzed on her phone, "So, what'd you think?" Gendry's message piped through.

"Not horrible," Arya relented.

"Oh, come on. We're better than that? Wanna meet the band?"

Arya wasn't sure what she wanted to do. However cool it would be to go backstage, she didn't want to admit to this near stranger that she loved the show, or even that she liked the show. This is too weird, Arya thought sipping on her beer.

After a few minutes, she still hadn't replied, and her phone buzzed with another message, "We don't bite. Come 'round to the stage door."

"Feels a bit too groupie-ish," Arya relented. The girls that milled around the stage doors were the ones looking for a root from someone pseudo famous. "Anyway, I'm leaving in a minute."

"Haha, alright. See you next time Arya Stark."

Arya flushed, which was pathetic, and very unlike her. She didn't flush over attractive males, or even give them a second thought. That was Sansa; she fawned over big muscles and pretty faces. Arya was different. Arya had no use for such pathetic girlishness.

She downed the rest of her beer, and quickly replaced it with another, along with a glass of water. By the time half an hour had passed, Arya was certainly feeling the alcohol running straight to her head, feeling very drunk indeed. She called Sansa phone, which went to voicemail after a few rings. She called again, and was met with boisterous laughter, when Sansa picked up the phone, "Arya! Where are you?"

"I'm by the bar, waiting for you. I thought we were leaving now?"

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud," Sansa scolded her younger sister. "Come backstage! Jeyne and I are here, and it's so much fun. Everyone is so lovely."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Arya said hesitantly.

"Come on, party pooper," Sansa insisted. "We'll leave in a bit, but you've got to come here first."

"Fine, whatever," Arya conceded. "I'll be right there," she said hanging up the phone. Brilliant, she thought bitterly.

She grabbed the leather jacket that she had peeled off of her sweaty back from where it lay across the table. Picked up the half-full pint and wandered around to find the band room. There was a heavy-set man with two full sleeves of tribal looking tattoos stationed out the front of the room, "Name?" he asked her in a gruff voice.

"Uh, Arya," she told him. "Stark."

"Go on through," he said opening the door, his steely expression never faltering.

She walked in silently, and her senses were assaulted by the smell of whiskey and stale beer.

"Arya!" Sansa squealed from across the room whilst jumping to her feet.

"Sansa," she nodded, wondering why her sister was so interested in her wellbeing, and why she seemed so excited to see her. She took another sip of her beer, which was starting to taste rather flat, from her nursing it. "Ready to go?" she asked her sister, feeling incredibly out of place, as she looked around at the room full of strangers.

"Oh, just another few minutes, I'm having too much fun."

Arya sat herself on a vacant armchair, she crossed her legs beneath herself and observed the band members and they drank and laughed. The singer, Beric, was making out with a tall woman with dark blonde hair at the far end of the room. Thoros, Lem, and Tom appeared to be deep in conversation. Leaving Gendry and Edric chatting amiably with Jeyne, and Sansa when she appeared back there after telling Arya to stick around.

She sighed heavily, and continued to sip her flat beer in silence. She closed her eyes, and felt like the world was shifting and turning beneath her. I shouldn't have drank this much, she thought, taking another drink. I need something to eat.

She looked around the room, and noticed Gendry watching her with cool blue eyes, from where he was standing with her sister and friend. He tapped his wrist, and there was a question on his face. Arya just shrugged and continued gazing around the room, hoping there was some sort of food around.

"Thought you'd have left by now," Gendry said as he made his way to where she was perched.

"Oh, well, Sansa's my ride. And I'm in no fit state to drive," she murmured. If I even had my licence, that is. "So, imagine if I said I hated The Seven before you guys went on stage?" Arya asked with a chuckle.

"Ouch, don't ease into it or anything," he said, grabbing his chest in mock-hurt.

"Oh, shut up, you already know you're fantastic. You don't need anyone to tell you that," she said. "I think the wildly screaming crowd would have inflated your ego enough."

"Fantastic, are we?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows are her.

"Stupid," she muttered under her breath, giving his shoulder a rough shove.

"You know," he said with a grin, "you shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you."

"Well, then I wouldn't get to insult anyone," she told him, gesturing to her short, skinny legs. He released a loud laugh, that drew Sansa's eyes straight over to them, her sister giving her a knowing wink, to which Arya just screwed her face up, and tapped on her left wrist, silently informing her it was time to go.

"Okay, well I think we're heading off now," she told Gendry when he'd finally recovered from his laughing fit.

"So soon?" he asked, and then looked at the clock and noticed it was already after 1am.

"I am knackered," she told him as she jumped up from her seat a little too quickly, blood rushing straight to her head, making her sway a little on her feet. "Come on Sans," Arya beckoned her sister towards the exit.

"Coming," Sansa told her sister impatiently, before spouting her goodbyes to the men she had been talking with.

"So, can I call you sometime?" Gendry asked with a slight smile on his lips, while running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Me?" she asked, and when he nodded, she just stuttered out a, "S-sure, I guess."

His smile faltered a bit, but then he just grinned wider as Sansa grabbed her elbow and they, along with Jeyne began to leave the crowded backstage area. "Bye ladies," Gendry called out to them, Arya shooting a grimace over her shoulder at the word 'ladies.'

Chapter Text

When they reached the front of the Dun Fort, and all of them piled into the car, Sansa turned the key in the ignition, and then glared at her sister in the rear vision mirror. "So, anything you want to tell me, sweet sister?"

Arya just shrugged her shoulders, unsure of what she would be referring to.

"How much did you have to drink tonight?" Sansa asked in a tone that was similar to that of which their mother would have used.

"Not much," Arya responded sheepishly, with another shrug of her shoulders.

"And how did you meet that guy from the band again?"

"Same way you did," she told Sansa with a deep sigh. "At that café we were in earlier."

"Uh-huh," her sister said in a sarcastic tone. "And you really expect me to believe that? With the way you too were giving each other googly eyes that whole time?"

"Ugh, Sansa. No. I don't even know him," Arya informed her, but a flush ran straight up to her face. Stupid, she scolded herself.

Her sister continued to badger her with questions about Gendry until Arya had had enough. "Quit it Sansa. I've had enough of your 20 questions bullshit," she told her harshly. "You're the one that wanted to go backstage anyway."

That shut her up, and the rest of the trip Arya was left with her own thoughts in the backseat of the car. They quickly arrived at Jeyne's house in Rosby; Sansa gave her friend a tight hug over the gearstick in the front of the car before Arya climbed into the evacuated front seat. She fiddled with the radio until she found a station that was playing the Arctic Monkeys and not some R 'n' B track.

They were halfway between Rosby and King's Landing before Sansa spoke again, "You know, if you want to talk to anyone about boys or anything, I'm always here."

"Come off it Sansa. It was just some guy in a band I'll probably never see again anyway."

"Okay," her sister smiled at her then, "but the offer still stands."

"Thanks," she muttered under her breath. Why are you being so nice to me? Arya wondered. They didn't have the sort of relationship that warranted this sort of sisterly affection.

The previous heartfelt moment was quickly ruined when Sansa commented, "Gods, Arya. You smell like a brewery floor!"

Arya just stuck her tongue out at her sister, and the rest of the trip was spent with just music filling the air between them.

They pulled into the driveway of their stately manor at exactly 2am, which was well later than Arya's 12:30am weekend curfew. Arya hoped that Sansa had explained that they would be late when she had spoken to their father hours earlier.

"Quick, get out of that shirt, it smells like a dirty rag," Sansa told her as she began to trifle through the back of the car pulling out Arya's old Joy Division t-shirt and giving it a quick spray of perfume to try and mask Arya's beer-scent.

"Here, chew on this," she said forcing a piece of mint gum into her sisters' mouth.

"How's that? Better?" Arya asked, running her hands through her hair.

"About as good as it's going to get at this point," Sansa said before getting out of the car.

Both girls strode to the front door in the bitter cold wind, causing Arya to feel much more sober than she had moments earlier. As soon as they stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open and Ned Stark's tall frame appeared in the doorway, "Where have you girls been?" he asked in a stern voice.

Sansa was the first to speak, "Sorry, Dad. It's all my fault. Jeyne was feeling sick, and after we left Duskendale, I took her home, but she asked us to stay until she stopped vomiting. I would have called, but both mine and Arya's phones died."

"I've been worried sick," he told both of his daughters as he looked at both of them. Arya averted her gaze, staring at her shoes, hoping that her father would not notice how intoxicated she was. After all, most fathers frown upon their 16-year-olds coming home drunk at 2am, even when accompanied by their sibling who are of age. "You need to make sure we can get in contact with you, at all times. What if something happened to you?"

"Sorry Dad," both of the girls chimed.

"We'll make sure we're more careful next time," Sansa said with a smile.

And that simply, Ned stepped out of the doorway and allowed his daughters to pass through, Arya mumbling another apology as she quickly ran up the stairs, followed closely by her sister.

"Get in the shower right now," Sansa hissed at her as they reached the landing at the top of the stairs. "And be prepared for the worst headache of your life tomorrow," she said with a smug smile on her pretty face.

"Goodnight Sansa," Arya said while opening the bathroom door.

She quickly stripped off her clothing and hopped into the shower, feeling the hot water against her sweaty skin was one of the most wonderful things she could remember feeling. The water was scalding, and left her with a bright red chest and feet, but washing her hair had never felt better. She scrubbed her body until it was nearly raw before hopping out and running a brush through the lengths of her hair. She brushed her teeth, ridding her mouth of the taste of stale beer. She rubbed some cream onto her pale face, and then strutted down the darkened hallway, feeling along the wall until she came to her bedroom. She was still unfamiliar with the house they had only been in for a few short weeks.

She pulled on a clean cotton t-shirt and a clean pair of underwear before snuggling deep under the duvet and smiling at the events of the evening. Wondering how Sansa had been so quick on her feet about the curfew, and about how many times she had done this in the past. Arya had always seen her sister as Little Miss Perfect, Lady Sansa, but maybe Arya had underestimated her sisters cunning. Though she didn't have long to ponder this, as the alcohol in her system sent her into a deep slumber.

She did not have any dreams that night, and awoke only at the sound of voices travelling up the stairs. She pulled herself out of bed when she noticed it was already 11am, though regretted it immediately as she could feel her brain thumping wildly against her skull, screaming in pain. Oh, Gods, she thought as she felt her stomach flip.

Arya felt her stomach tighten, and thinking she was about to start vomiting, she ran to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet bowl in anticipation, though nothing happened. Sighing, she collected herself from the tiled floor and quickly ran a toothbrush over her teeth, expelling her morning breath, all the while very aware of the headache that was thrumming in the front of her skull, right behind her eyes.

She walked back to her bedroom and pulled on a bright blue t-shirt, and a pair of dark skinny jeans, hoping some breakfast would settle her stomach, or at the very least an extra strong cup of coffee. As she was walking down the stairs, at a rather subdued pace in order to not agitate her brain any further, she heard loud laughter coming from the kitchen. Wondering who was at their house on a Saturday morning, Arya pushed through the door and was startled to find a very large man wearing a suit, his black beard streaked with grey hanging down and resting on his large stomach, which was poking out over the waistband of his trousers.

"Ah, Arya!" her father boomed. "You're finally up! There's someone I want you to meet."

The man looked her up and down, with widening eyes, "Gods, Ned. She looks just like her."

"Arya, this is Robert Baratheon, my new business partner, and a great friend," he said slapping the man on his rounded shoulders.

"Pleased to meet you," Arya said, ignoring his initial comment.

"Likewise," Robert said, seeming uncomfortable. "Ned, shall we take this conversation to your study, I would hate to bother your daughter with all of this business talk."

Ned nodded, and as they were leaving the room, he turned back to Arya to say that they still needed to talk about last night. Arya just nodded solemnly, walking over to the coffeemaker to pour herself a cup.

"Hey sleepyhead!" chirped Sansa, as she walked into the kitchen. "Pour me a cup, would ya?"

Arya fetched another mug for her sister, keeping silent trying to dispel the pain in her head.

"So, how are you feeling this morning?" she asked in an altogether too chipper voice.

"I feel like death warmed up, to be honest," Arya admitted.

"Welcome to your first hangover."

"I hate it. It is definitely not worth it."

Sansa just laughed, which began to hurt Arya's head even more. She took her coffee cup and walked out onto the back porch and sat on the swing that hung from the ceiling, she closed her eyes and listened to the quiet pattering of rain that had just started. It was soothing, and her head began to clear as she focussed on just listening, ignoring all of her other senses. She took another sip of her coffee and opened her eyes, the dull throbbing returning, though much gentler than before.

Once she'd finished her first cup, she went back inside to get another, as well as a couple of aspirin. Sansa was still in the kitchen, but this time she was sitting with their mother Catelyn, and younger brother Rickon.

"Arya," her mother said when she saw her. "I want to talk to you about yesterday." She let out a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry about what I said in the afternoon, but you can't just run off like that, imagine if something had happened to you; if your sister hadn't found you. We were worried sick about you. And if you want to be treated like an adult, you're going to have to start acting like one."

Arya just nodded, definitely not in the mood for this conversation, with the dull ache in her head, and her stomach doing backflips.

Catelyn let out another sigh, "I know you're turning seventeen in a couple of days, so I want to make sure that you aren't going to just run off on us again. I don't think I, or your father, could handle the stress of another situation like that."

Arya nodded again, staying silent. "Just promise me, you'll stick to your curfews from now on, or call us if something comes up, okay?"

"Sure," Arya told her before taking a seat at the table, swallowing the aspirin she had collected from the cupboard.

"Okay, onto birthday preparations," Sansa said, rubbing her hands together. "What are we doing to celebrate the day of birth of my sweet sister?"

Arya poked her tongue out at her sister very childishly. "I don't want any fuss made."

"Oh, come on Arya," Sansa scolded her. "You have to do something! How about just going out to dinner then? We'll even try and get Jon to come down from the Wall for it."

At the mention of Jon, Catelyn screwed her face up as if there was a foul smell wafting through the room. Jon was the elephant in the room for Catelyn, her husbands' indiscretion that she had to look at for sixteen years. The day he left was a day of great relief for Catelyn. Out of sight, out of mind. "Perhaps, that's not the best idea, sweetie."

"No, Jon has to come," Arya insisted. "If he can get time off from his studies, he has to come down."

"Okay, fine," Catelyn backed down. She then noticed something dangling from her youngest daughters neck, "What's that?"

"Oh," Arya clasped the wolfs head pendant in her fingers, "Sansa got it for me. Early birthday present."

Catelyn just smiled as she looked between her two daughters. "I'm so glad you two are getting along. I know it's been hard, with the move, but I'm just so happy to see you two no longer at each others throats."

Arya and Sansa just nodded quietly, before Sansa jumped from her chair and said something about having to meet a friend to study. Arya wondered how much of her story was actually true, she had seen her sister lie so easily the night before and doubted whether she was actually going to study.

Catelyn fussed over her youngest son before she collected the six-year-old in her arms and exited the kitchen leaving Arya alone once more. The aspirin had kicked in, and her head had ceased to ache, though she was feeling a sense of lethargy wash over her, and wondered to herself how people do this on a regular basis. It definitely seemed like a steep price to pay.

Arya walked upstairs to her bedroom where she then collapsed back onto her bed, her brain skipping back to the previous night and the boy with bright blue eyes who had asked about her, whom she had given her phone number. Stop acting like such a damsel, she warned herself.

She pulled on a pair of thick socks, a chunky pair of maroon creepers, and a grey woollen jumper. She trampled down the stairs, her thick shoes thumping loudly against the wooden floorboards. She walked through the family room, and told her mother that she was going out for a few hours, but she would be home for dinner at 6pm, her mother made her promise several times. "Yes, mother, I will," Arya sighed as she stomped to the front door, pulling a bright yellow umbrella from the stand by the door, banging it closed behind her.

She aimlessly walked around the city of King's Landing for a few hours, the rain thrumming against the yellow umbrella above her head, soothing her. She walked into a few different stores, before she noticed a hairdresser that had an edgy looking exterior. Arya held a piece of her hair that hung limply around her waist, she thought that her long hair made her look more of a child than her short stature and boyish physique already did for her. So, with a shrug of her shoulders and while closing her umbrella she stepped into the store, which smelled strongly of hairspray. The employees were standing chatting when Arya entered the store; one of the girls immediately strode up to her and asked, "What can I do for you darling?" Her long black hair was swaying over her shoulders, and her dark almond-shaped eyes gleaming as she took in all of Arya's long hair.

"I need you to chop this off," Arya told her, grabbing the length of her hair.

"Oh, all of it? Are you sure?" she looked at Arya up and down.

"Yes," Arya said vehemently. She was sick of looking like a child, and with turning 17 in just a few days; she figured that this was a present to herself.

"Okay, come on and take a seat," she said taking the dripping yellow umbrella from her grasp, "I'm Irri, by the way," she said by way of introduction, flashing a bright white smile.

"Arya," she said, returning a smile.

"Okay, Arya, how short were you thinking of going?"

"Umm," Arya contemplated, "maybe just below my jaw?

"No worries," Irri informed her with a kind smile. "Just leave it to me, and I'm sure you'll be leaving here with a smile on your face."

They chit-chatted about nothing in particular while Irri set about cutting her long hair off strip by strip. By the time she was finished the floor around the chair was covered in long brown chunks of hair, and she felt short hairs tickling the back of her neck. Her dark hair hung heavily to one side of her face, curling slightly. The effect that the new hairdo had was astounding, Arya thought she looked much better; the short hair seemed to make her long face look more proportionate. Try calling my Horseface now, she thought bitterly, thinking of the children whom she had grown up with calling her names.

She thanked Irri kindly, and definitely felt the smile that was promised as she left the store after paying. It was around 4pm by the time she felt her stomach grumble. Realising she had yet to eat for the day, she turned down a street called Cobbler's Row and continued to walk until she came upon a small bistro called Vue de Monde. She sat at a table close to the door, tucking her umbrella onto the chair beside her, before beginning to study the menu. Her French was poor, at best. She settled on ordering one of the only things she could pronounce on the menu. As a person began to stride towards her table, she flicked her gaze up and noticed it was the man from the café the day before, the man with hazel eyes and red and white hair. He asked her with a thick accent, "What can I get for you, lovely girl?"

"Uh," Arya started, suddenly nervous, "Can I just get a slice of the gruyère tart? And a glass of water?"

The man flashed an easy smile at her, before quickly reappearing with her order. She thanked him, before slicing into the tart. As soon as it touched her tongue, a small moan escaped her mouth, which she quickly tried to stifle the sound of with a cough. She noticed her server grin in her direction, alerting her to the fact that he most certainly did hear her. She mentally kicked herself.

She finished her meal quickly, and drank the glass of water with just as much haste. She needed to make sure she had enough time to get home for family dinner. She dropped a $20 note onto the table, and abruptly got up to leave, when a heavily accented voice called out, "Farewell lovely girl." She looked over her shoulder and noticed the man watching her leave; she shot him a closed mouth smile and felt her stomach flip, though in a completely different way than it had earlier.

She unfurled her umbrella once more and started walking very quickly, the rain hammering against the nylon material. She was walking into the house just as it ticked over to 6pm. She shook the umbrella free of all water it had collected and brought herself into the foyer, her face flushed from her fast pace as well as the biting wind that had been nipping at her cheeks.

"Oh my goodness, Arya!" Sansa exclaimed from the foot of the stairs. "What did you do to your hair?"

"You don't like it?" Arya unconsciously brought her hand to her hair defensively.

"I love it," she squealed. "Short hair suits you," she said with a quick nod.

Arya couldn't help but smile at her older sister. They had never particularly been close siblings, but over the last two days they seemed to be getting along like a house on fire. Arya was wondering what had brought on the change of heart within her sister, but figured it was best left unsaid.

Rickon walked into the room, and his eyes widened as he looked at his big sister. "Arya!" he screamed. "You look pretty!"

She picked him up and slung him across her back. "Not as pretty as you, little man," she told him as she carried him into the dining room. He was giggling with glee as she bounced him around.

Arya soon grew tired, her small frame unable to maintain his weight for much time. But as she put him down, Ned and Catelyn walked into the dining room together and both gasped as they looked at their youngest daughter.

"What do ya think?" she asked. "I got myself an early birthday present."

"Oh, Arya," her mother sighed. "Why did you cut off all of your long hair? It was so beautiful."

"It made me look like a child," Arya told her, frowning. "You said how I should act like an adult, well, I figure the first step is to stop looking like a kid."

"It looks great, kiddo," Ned told her with a wink as he brought his hand to her hair and mussed it with his rough fingers. "Well, it did," he laughed.

---

 

After a night of restless sleep, Arya dragged herself from the warmth of her sheets when she heard her phone ringing from across the bedroom.

"Ugh," she groaned loudly, in a voice thick with sleep. "Who in the seven hells calls at this time of day?"

As she clambered from her bed, she was thankful for feeling much livelier than the previous day.

"What?" she snapped harshly into the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Oh, um, is this Arya?" asked a nervous sounding-voice over the tinny speaker.

"Yes. Who's this? And what do you want?"

"Oh, hi. Sorry. This is Gendry… from Friday night?"

"I remember you," she told him, not bothering with courtesies, as she had rudely been awakened by this bumbling telephone conversation.

"Oh, great," he said, audibly relaxing. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?"

What? her internal monologue was going into overdrive thinking about all of the ways a prank could be played. Wondering whether Sansa had manipulated the entire situation from the get-go; that explained why she had been acting so kindly towards her younger sister, Arya really couldn't think of any other reasonable explanation for her sudden change of heart and change of character towards Arya.

"Hello?" his voice called through the line after Arya had failed to respond for a few moments.

"Um," Arya began. This is so stupid, she thought. "I guess so. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm actually working in about an hour, but…"

"Great, I can come to the café," Arya hastened to inform him. Best to go somewhere familiar.

"Oh, yeah, if you'd prefer," Gendry chuckled into the phone. "I guess I'll see you in a bit."

Arya hung up without saying her farewell.

Oh shit, she thought as she realised what she had just committed to. The lazy Sunday that she had planned seemed to be fleeting, and fast. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and cursed to herself again. Her short hair had managed to become a bird's nest of knots in the back, while her fringe was sticking up from her scalp at gravitationally unnatural angles. She had deep, dark bags under her eyes, telling the story of her restless night, and the taste in her mouth definitely left something to be desired.

Running to the bathroom down the hall, she chilled herself to the bone with a cold shower, trying to wake herself up out of her dream-like state of overtiredness. Feeling only slightly more invigorated than earlier, she dried herself in her bedroom, before changing into a pair of tight cream-coloured jeans that were printed with pineapples, and grabbing the first clean looking t-shirt she could find, which had a smiling turtle printed on it's white fabric—the shirt had been one that her mother had bought for Bran, who had rushed to pawn it off to the first person he could find, which had been Arya. She tugged on a pair of thick woollen socks, her favourite cherry red Doc Martens, and collected a red beanie to protect her ears from the chill that was likely to have hit overnight. After looking at herself in the mirror, she stated dully, "Well, as usual, this is as good as it's going to get."

She still looked half asleep as she trudged down the stairs, noticing the time, and being shocked that it had already ticked over to noon.

"Good morning Snorlax," greeted Rickon as he saw his sister enter the kitchen with a yawn escaping her lips.

"Hey there, little man," she said with a smile, which just caused Rickon to grin even wider. Arya knew how much he hated being called 'kid,' 'kiddo,' or 'boy,' and he just adored her whenever she called him 'man' feeling ever the grown up at only six years of age.

"Arya?" called her mother's shrill voice from the living room.

Foregoing her usual morning coffee, Arya languidly strolled into the living room before ungraciously plonking herself onto the armchair that was closest to the front door, hoping to make a quick exit. "Yes, Mother?"

"This little 'rebellious phase' that your going through," Catelyn Stark said the words as though they had left a foul taste in her mouth, "has got to stop. You cannot, I repeat cannot, simply walk out of the house without letting us know where you are going, and not being able to contact you."

This old thing, Arya thought as her mother rehashed the same conversation that they had had the previous morning as well as over family dinner that night.

"And this going out and simply cutting off all of your hair, like it's no big deal," her mother clucked her tongue against her teeth in displeasure at the decisions her youngest daughter had been making.

"Mum," Arya started. "It's just hair. It will grow back, whether I want it to or not."

"That's not the point Arya Stark. You go and do all of these things without thinking about anyone other than yourself, and without a care in the world. When I said to start acting like a grown up, I hoped you would be taking a step forward, not simply milling about in the exact same spot as before. I mean, you haven't even tried to make any friends while we've been here, have you?"

"I have so!" Arya nearly screamed at her mother.

"Oh, really? And whom would these friends of yours happen to be?"

"I'm gong out to see a friend right now, actually. His name's Gendry," she said before realising that this was only going to open up another line of questioning that she really had no desire to enter into.

"Gendry?" Catelyn asked. "And how old is this Gendry?"

"Uh," Arya stuttered. I haven't a clue, she thought helplessly. "Nineteen?" she guessed, though he was probably closer to twenty-two.

The sour look on Catelyn's face from when she had said rebellious phase returned. "Sansa knows him, you can just ask her. She's actually the one who introduced us," Arya quickly lied, making a mental note to inform her sister of this new development, so as to avoid any awkward conversations.

"Okay," her mother relented after a few moments of deliberation. "Just make sure you keep your phone on."

"Will do," Arya jumped from her seat tugging on her leather jacket from the coat rack by the front door.

"And please do something with that new hair you've decided on getting. It looks like it's housing a family of birds."

Arya quickly shoved the red beanie over her short mop of hair, leaving only the bangs visible, with short brown hairs sticking out of the bottom. After walking through the brisk wind chill and making her way back down the main street, she located the little café, and was relieved to step into the relative warmth that the place offered.

She sat on a stool by the counter, waiting for anyone to show themselves. There were no customers occupying the café, and the staff were nowhere to be seen. "Hello?" Arya called out loudly, glancing down at her watch to see that the time was nearly at 2pm.

There was the dim sound of rustling from the back of the room, in what appeared to be a storeroom. From this backroom emerged the plump straw-haired boy that she had seen on Friday night. She looked at the little nametag that was pinned to his chest, "Hot Pie?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"Uh," he looked suddenly nervous, and like he would rather be anywhere but in the same room as Arya right about now. "Yeah. That's me."

"What the hell kind of a name is that?"

The boy looked all of a sudden upset, his chins wobbling as his lip quivered. Shit, Arya, she scolded herself internally. Look what you've done now.

"Uh, I mean, cool nickname."

Hot Pie visibly brightened, and then with a shy looking smile asked, "What can I get for you?"

"Actually," Arya started, clearing her throat awkwardly, "I was wondering if Gendry was working today? He asked me to meet him here."

"Yeah, yeah," Hot Pie's smile grew wider. "He just ran down the street to get some more milk. He shouldn't be too much longer now."

"Great," Arya said, and then proceeded to order her coffee, all the while managing to make easy conversation with the very uncomfortable looking boy in front of her. They talked about the weather, Arya's upcoming birthday, the fact that they both went to the Red Keep and had not noticed one another.

By the time to bell above the door rang signalling Gendry's return to the store, the two were in an in-depth conversation about the pros and cons of genetic modification in fruits and vegetables.

"Well, hey there," Gendry said, dropping the crate of milk bottles onto the countertop. "Should I leave you two be, or…?"

Hot Pie flushed an unattractive shade of red, while Arya simply snorted. "H-hey Gendry," he stuttered. "Arya came in looking for you a while ago, but you were out, so we just got to chatting, and what do you know, we're in the same form at school."

Arya could have hit the fat boy so hard he would have swallowed his teeth. The conversation that her and Gendry had had at the Dun Fort came flashing into her head.

"Aren't you a bit young for that?" he had asked, indicating her beer.

"See, now why would they serve me if I was too young?" she had asked.

"Pretty girl like you, I bet they give them to you free as well."

Well, now you look the fool, Arya Stark, she scolded herself. Were you flirting with him? What's wrong with you? Isn't one Sansa in the family enough?

"So, you're one of them?" Gendry asked glancing between Hot Pie and herself.

"One of whom?"

"A trust fund baby," he stated simply.

"No," she answered instantly. Well, technically, that was exactly what she was. Though the way he put it sounded like snobbery, like she thought that she was better than others simply because of the school that she attended. "Well, yes."

This earned a snort from Hot Pie, though she shot him a warning glare that had him closing his mouth as though someone was trying to prise his tongue from it with a pair of hot tongs. "Well, what about you?" she said pointedly at Hot Pie. "You go to the Red Keep, so where's your look of derision and implied accusation of snobbery?"

"I'm only there on a scholarship," he confessed, raising his hands in surrender as if he thought that Arya was going to attack him if he said the wrong thing.

Both of the boys were looking at her. "Do you know what?" she slapped her hands loudly against the wooden countertop before grabbing her discarded coat and beanie. "Fuck this. I don't need either of you judging me because of whatever school my parents sent me to. So, fuck the both of you."

She stomped loudly over the hardwood floors and hit the door hard against its frame as she passed through, the bell ringing long and loudly.

Stupid fucking boys, she thought as she stormed down the bustling streets of King's Landing. Stupid fucking school. Stupid fucking King's Landing. Stupid fucking King's Landing school, and King's Landing boys.

"Arya! Wait!" she heard Gendry's voice call out to her before she heard his heavy breathing coming along beside her.

"So, is this how you treat all of the people you don't know, or do you specifically hold that out for the people who have agreed to go out of their way to see you."

"Look, I'm sorry," he started before placing a Styrofoam coffee cup into her hands.

"No. Take you coffee and have it as a fucking enema for all I care."

He actually let out a laugh at her words. She rolled her eyes and pulled her jacket further around herself.

"Just take the coffee," he urged. "You look like your about to freeze to death, and I couldn't possibly take insulting you and then letting hypothermia take you. Not in the same day, at least." Gendry flashed his pearly whites in a grin that sent his bright blue eyes dancing.

Arya actually found herself smiling and taking the coffee.

"Sorry about that," he confessed. "I don't know, I just have met too many people who wouldn't even look at me if they found out I hadn't gone to the right school, and that I clearly didn't have the right job," he waved a hand indicating his coffee stained apron.

"You know, we aren't that unalike," she told him, relishing in the hot coffee she was now drinking, trying to forget the enema comment she had made earlier. "I've never been the world's best daughter. They expect me to be just like Sansa, to be smart and pretty and popular. They expect me to have a five-year plan set out from right now. And I'm just not that person. I don't want to be housewife and mother first and a person last. That's not me." Arya had no clue why she was confiding all of these personal feelings to this boy, but she found the information flowing from her mouth like a tap. "And they all expect you to be something, I'm guessing not something that you want to be."

"Yeah," Gendry said with a humourless chuckle. "I guess that's pretty much hit the nail right on the head."

The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon talking with the occasional input from Hot Pie as he went about cleaning the shop for what seemed like the seventh time. Arya decided that she could get used to hanging around with two numbskulls, such as these.

"So, what's the plan for your expulsion from the womb day?" asked Hot Pie with a grin as he wiped down the milk steamer.

"Ugh, gross," Arya said making a face.

"What?" he asked with a confused look.

Arya just sighed, and said, "No plans. Just family stuff."

"No plans?" Hot Pie asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous! You have to do something."

She simply shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, I know!" Hot Pit unnecessarily shouted, causing both Gendry and Arya to cringe away from the noise. "Gendry and I can take you out on Saturday!"

"Gee, Hot Pie, that sounds great and all, but considering it is my seventeenth birthday, you can see how I may have a little trouble with getting into anywhere that you could possibly think of taking me, other than the McDonald's playground."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Hot Pie winked. "I can get that sorted out for you as easy as, well, pie."

"Hot Pie," Gendry scolded. "How many times do I have to tell you to not make that joke?"

"What? It's funny!"

"No, it's not."

"It's really not," Arya piped in with a grin.

"Whatever. You guys just don't understand." He strode out of the room, taking with him a slice of cheesecake and a fork.

As soon as the door to the storeroom shut, Arya looked at Gendry and both of them instantly burst into a wild fit of laughter.

"Oh dear," said Arya, clutching her sides as she tried to recover. "Is he always like that?"

"Yep. That's Hot Pie."

Glancing at her watch, Arya noticed that it was almost 5:30pm; she had been within the café for over three hours, just drinking coffee and chatting. "Oh, shite," Arya cursed. "I've gotta get home."

"I can give you a lift if you'd like?" Gendry offered. "I just have to close up, and kick Hot Pie out."

"Oh, really? That'd be great."

"Anything for milady," Gendry said with an ostentatious bow and a goofy grin upon his face.

"Do not call me that," Arya scolded him, roughly shoving him in the shoulder, which only caused him to laugh.

"What do you think those little chicken arms are going to do?"

"You're so stupid," she informed him, crossing her 'chicken' arms, as he had so kindly put it, across her chest.

He simply continued to laugh as he walked into the storeroom, a few minutes later she was saying her farewell to Hot Pie, who made her promise to sit with him at school during lunch period.

They walked around to the back of the store, where Arya spotted a large, black chopper with a dark helmet resting upon the crates that lined the walls.

"Oh," she whispered, as she gazed at the gleaming, black beast that was apparently her ride home. She didn't have long to stare in fascination at the machine though, as a small black half-helm was being thrown in her direction, which she was almost too slow to catch.

She looked at the helmet that Gendry was pulling onto his head, and noticed the design of a bull printed onto it. Bull-headed, that sounds about right, Arya thought as she clasped her own helmet beneath her chin.

Gendry flipped the visor on his helmet up, and asked, "Where to milady?" After thumping him in the right shoulder with her small fist, she gave him directions to her new residence.

The ride to her home was a short one, though Arya was rather flustered at having to hold onto Gendry while he drove at what felt like breakneck speeds. Arya was not afraid of how fast the motorcycle was moving, but she felt uncomfortable having to hold on and be supported by the hulking man in front of her, she tried not to hold onto his waist too tight, but not so loose as to fall off of the machine.

He slowed his chopper down when they were entering into Arya's neighbourhood. He flipped his visor up again, and let out a low whistle, "You live here?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, shit."

The neighbourhood was lovely, with perfectly trimmed hedges, and sculpted trees. There were award winning rose gardens and flowering plants in bloom. All of these plants seemed unaware of the changing seasons, and simply ignored the cold weather. The houses in the neighbourhood themselves were enormous, with newly shingled roofs, freshly painted exteriors and extravagant cars parked in their extended driveways. Arya was rather intimidated by the spectacle that was King's Landing when they had arrived, but it had become part of the furniture after the last four weeks they had spent in town.

As the chopper was crawling along her street, she gave Gendry a sharp nudge to the ribs. "This one's me."

"So, for your birthday, do you wanna come out with Hot Pie and me?" he asked once Arya had dismounted the bike and unclasped her helmet.

"Um, sure. That could be fun, but I don't have any ID," she confessed.

"S'all good," he assured her. "I'll call you."

"Alright," she said with a smile and she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I'll be seeing you, Arya Stark," Gendry assured her before his chopper roared to life and away from her, where she simply stood watching after his disappearing figure.

"Snap out of it Stark," she said shaking herself. "What's wrong with you, you goon? He's just a boy with a motorcycle, in a band, with long hair, who likes to poke fun at you. Talk about a cliché."

Chapter Text

"So, a motorcycle?" Sansa whistled as her sister clambered into the house.

"Gods, Sansa!" Arya yelped. "How long have you been standing there? You scared the hells out of me."

Sansa just waved her hand, and continued, "Do you have any clue how lucky you are that it was me and not Mother who saw you?"

"Oh, thank you ever so much, sweet sister," Arya said with a mock curtsy. "Where would I ever be without you?"

"You know," Sansa called after her sister as she stomped up the stairs, "it wouldn't kill you to actually be pleasant some of the time."

Arya ignored her sisters' comments, and proceeded to enter the bathroom, in order to splash water on her face, and ignore the fact that she had just been in such close proximity to another person, especially when that person was Gendry. She flushed as she thought of the feeling of his strong middle, and quickly scolded herself, Stop acting like a bloody damsel. You are Arya Stark. You don't need a stupid, bull-headed boy. Now, cut it out.

---

Arya's week had swam by in a rush of numbers and letters and teachers she couldn't remember the names of. Hot Pie had sought her out on the Tuesday as soon as the break for lunch had commenced.

"Arya," he'd called across the cafeteria. "Come sit over here!"

Ducking her head to avoid any further attention she stumbled over to the table, her chunky black creepers dragging against the linoleum lined floor.

As she placed her tray, which was piled high with spaghetti and pudding and a cupcake, onto the table. Hot Pie hurried to introduce the two boys he was with. "This is Lommy," he indicated to a boy with shaggy blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in months, whose hands and arms were also covered in what appeared to be green acrylic paint. "And this is Edric, you would have seen him on Friday?" this was the bassist of The Seven, with his pale blonde hair, and eyes so blue they almost looked violet.

"Yeah, hi," she said, not wanting to draw attention to herself, and hoping that they would all just carry on their conversations around her. Unfortunately, she noticed that all three of the boys were looking at her expectantly. With a mouth full of spaghetti, she asked, "What?"

The three boys broke down into fits of laughter, which only caused to anger Arya, as they were obviously laughing at her. After swallowing her mouthful she snapped, "Well, what is it?"

Hot Pie just shrugged and said, "You're so little, I can't believe you've got such an appetite, is all."

After they had recovered, the conversation between the boys was easy, with Arya sitting by watching the interaction and that of those surrounding them. Everyone at the Red Keep had a strict uniform to adhere to, with girls in navy seersucker skirts, white button downs and black ties and shoes, and the boys in dark grey trousers, navy blazers, white button downs and black ties and shoes. All of the girls that Arya could see had hemmed their skirts so they sat mid-thigh, and were wearing extravagant jewellery that seemed far too ostentatious for such a mundane event as high school.

As Arya spooned pudding into her mouth, she saw Edric looking at her expectantly. "Sorry, what?"

"I said," Edric flicked his eyes around her head, but never settled on her face, "what did you think of the show on Friday? And be brutally honest."

"Uh," Arya stumbled, "it was good. Loads of fun."

Edric flashed a bright white smile and told her that next time she should come see the band off-stage after the show.

"I was in the band room on Friday," Arya stated uncertainly.

"No you weren't," he told her, certain. "Were you?"

"Uh, yeah."

Edric tapped his chin thoughtfully, his violet eyes looking deep in thought. "Haircut," he practically yelled. "You've had a haircut."

Arya's hand quickly reached for her hair, almost defensively. "Yep."

"Looks good," he said after a moment, considering her hair.

"Oh. Thanks."

The conversation was beginning to come a lot easier, and by the end of the week, Arya had become fast friends with Edric, though Lommy had been less than welcoming towards her, which Arya wasn't truly bothered by, she was used to people not paying her any mind.

On Wednesday she got a message from Jon. "Hey, little sister. I'm sorry I can't make it down there for your birthday, but I've sent your gift, and it should get to you by the end of the week. Love you, and I'll see you at Christmas." She had tried to call him back, but none of the calls had gotten through, his phone perpetually off or out of signal.

She missed her brother, and wanted nothing more than for him to be there to joke with her, and ruffle her hair.

As the end of the week approached, Arya found that she really didn't want to attend the family dinner that Sansa had planned. Even if it was in her honour it didn't feel right that there were so many of the family missing. With Jon at the Wall and Robb and Bran in Winterfell, the Stark family felt very incomplete.

She had received word from Gendry that an ID for her had been acquired and that he and Hot Pie would be collecting Arya on Saturday evening.

By Friday, Arya felt ready to punch someone, she still hadn't gotten any word from Jon, her calls constantly being sent through to voicemail. She had been struggling to keep up with the workload that had been piling up at her new school, and feeling homesick for Winterfell. The last thing she wanted to be doing was going out for dinner. Technically, her birthday wasn't until the next day, but as Ned and Catelyn Stark had a gala to attend, Friday would have to do.

"Oh, Arya," Sansa said walking up to her sister who was waiting by the car after school. "Tonight is going to be just perfect."

Arya felt her stomach tighten, not wanting to have anything to do with a celebration on her behalf. "Great."

"I found the loveliest little French restaurant in town. You are just going to die."

"Fantastic," Arya stated, unenthused.

Sansa did not notice her sisters' dark demeanour as she drove the pair of them home. She prattled on and on over how much fun the evening's events were going to be. As she rounded the corner into their estate, Sansa said, "So, Mum and I had a nice little chat, and I'm glad that I was so kind and introduced you to my good friend Gendry."

Arya glanced at her sister to see a smug smile that rested on her face.

"Tell me again, how there's nothing going on with you two?"

"Shut up," Arya pushed her sisters shoulder as she pulled the car into their driveway. She quickly fled the car, not wanting to be questioned about Gendry, yet again.

As Arya stomped up the stairs and into her bedroom, she heard her mother call, "Arya, is that you?" as she strolled into the foyer. "I've laid out something for you to wear tonight. And please do something with your hair, it looks like you haven't even brushed it."

Arya felt her mood continue to darken as she pushed into her bedroom, there was a white lace dress with capped sleeves, and a black bow tied in the centre of the back, and a pair of silver sandals rested on the floor beside her bed. Sighing, Arya tugged her uniform off, tossing it roughly into the corner. She was sick of having to wear a uniform everyday, and wanted nothing more than to just wear a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

She pulled the dress on over her head, it felt tight around her middle, and when she looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see that it made her look like she had noticeable curves. The thin fabric left her with a chill that sent her shivering. She pulled on her leather jacket, and the silver sandals, knowing that her mother would not be pleased.

Running a brush through the knots in her hair, she felt agitated over how easily her hair got messed up, and how much harder it was to maintain than long hair. "Ugh," she groaned loudly as the brush snagged on a particularly large knot. "Stupid fucking thing!"

"Are you alright?" Sansa's voice called through her bedroom door.

"I'm just dandy," Arya replied drily.

Sansa pushed the door open; her nose wrinkling as she looked around at Arya's things, mostly still packed in boxes, though there was a large pile of unwashed clothes sitting by the dresser. "You swear like a sailor Arya," Sansa scolded.

Arya just shrugged. "So, what's this place we're going to called?"

"Vue de Monde," Sansa informed her, a pleasant smile returning to her face. "It's not too far from here."

Arya felt her stomach flip, thinking of the man with dual-toned hair who had called her lovely girl. Her face paled, and Sansa noticed.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you don't like it; you liked French food when we went to that one restaurant just outside Winterfell. Oh, you can't be serious! I put so much effort into this."

"Sansa, stop," she said, raising her hands to quiet her sister. "I still like French food. There's just this guy who works there…" she trailed off, not wanting to talk to her sister about boys.

"Another guy," Sansa gushed. "Dish."

"No, I don't know him, but I've seen him around a couple of times. And what do you mean another guy. There's not even one to start with."

"Oh please," Sansa flicked her long hair over her shoulder. "I saw the way you and Gendry were looking at each other, and don't think I don't know that you're going out with him tomorrow night."

"Have you been looking through my phone?" Arya practically shouted.

"Well, you just leave it lying around, what do you expect?" Sansa had on an innocent face.

"Stay out of my stuff!"

"Alright, alright. But come on, tell me about this French man."

"Like I said, I don't even know him. I went to that restaurant last weekend, and he was there. He has the strangest hair," Arya felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks as she thought about the stranger. "I don't think he's French though. But he's definitely not from around here."

"My sister, the maneater."

"Shut up," Arya gave Sansa's auburn hair a gentle tug.

When she decided that her hair was at an acceptable standard, she trudged downstairs to the kitchen, where her mother was dressed in an elegant blue dress, with black heels, and a golden star pendant hanging from her neck. She was pinning her earrings in when she turned around and noticed her youngest daughter. "Arya, I swear, you can make anything look like you've just been out to the pub."

Arya glanced down at herself, the lacy dress obscured by her thick black jacket. "What?"

"Do you really have to wear that thing?"

"Well, I wouldn't have to if this dress wasn't so thin. It's the end of autumn, not a nice summer's day, Mother. This day's supposed to be about me anyway, isn't it?"

Catelyn just rested her fingertips against her temples, trying to fight the urge to argue with her daughter. "Of course, why don't you go and help your father tie his tie?"

Grateful for not having to go head-to-head with her mother, Arya fled the kitchen to find her father sitting in his study with a glass of red wine resting on the desk, he looked deep in thought. "Hey Dad, Mum said you needed help with your tie?"

"You'd think after 20 years of wearing them that I'd be able to tie the damn things," he laughed as he handed Arya the blue strip of fabric.

As her fingers moved to tie the knot, Arya asked, "Dad, do you know what Jon's up to? I haven't heard from him."

"He's fine, love," Ned said, with a soft voice. "You don't need to worry about him. I'm sure he'll call when he can."

Handing the tie back, Arya watched as her father sighed deeply, looking out the window that faced the back of the property. Arya was similar to her father in many ways, other than just looks. Neither of them had much of a mind for small talk, and didn't mind just being quiet. They both sat in the study, not talking and just relishing in the setting sun as it shone across the backyard.

Soon, Catelyn was rushing the family out of the house, with little Rickon clutching his hands around Ned's shoulders as he gave him a piggyback to the car. The ride to Vue de Monde was filled with Sansa gushing about how much everyone was going to love the restaurant, and that Joffrey Baratheon had taken her here when they had first arrived in King's Landing.

As Ned parked the car, Arya quickly stole into the crisp night air, glad to be out of the close confines with Sansa talking about her worm lipped, blonde, girly arsehole of a boyfriend. Joffrey Baratheon was in the same form as Sansa and Edric at school, though he looked like a little boy. He was a bully, picking on people that weren't as rich or popular as he was. Arya didn't understand how kind-hearted Sansa put up with him.

Shaking her head, trying to get rid of the foul mood that had been plaguing her for the entire day. Glancing into the window, the restaurant was bustling with elegantly dressed people laughing and drinking. She grabbed onto her leather jacket and pulled it tight around her, almost protectively.

"Come on, Arya," Sansa said, pushing her sister through the doorway of the restaurant.

She was greeted by the red and white haired man, his cool hazel eyes studying her. "Hello again, lovely girl."

"Oh, hi," Arya said awkwardly. She felt Sansa elbow hit her sharply in the ribs, knowing that she would never hear the end of it from her. "Um, we had a reservation under Stark?"

"Of course. Follow me," he said, leading the family to a booth in a quieter section of the restaurant. "My name is Jaqen, and I am pleased to be your server this evening." Arya felt his eyes watching her for longer than was likely proper. A flush heating her cheeks, which she tried to hide, by busying herself with the zips on her jacket.

"Can I get you any drinks to start?"

Her parents order wine for themselves, Sansa settling on a gin and tonic, and Rickon and Arya left with just water.

When they had their drinks, and a baguette doused with garlic butter, Sansa leaned close to Arya and said, "He's cute."

Arya flushed again, "Stop it."

"What? Don't tell me you didn't notice."

Arya ignored her, and busied herself straightening her cutlery. There was gentle violin music playing overhead, and Arya was able to drown out the sound of raucous laughter from the other patrons, and forget about Sansa badgering her about men she didn't really know. She was brought back to reality when Ned's voice spoke up, "Arya, love, I know it's not your birthday until tomorrow, but your mother and I wanted to give you this now."

A small box slid in front of her, it looked like an earring case. Thinking that Sansa would probably enjoy the present more, she popped the lid to find, not earrings, but a key. With a question on Arya's lips, Catelyn rushed to say, "We got you a scooter, so you don't have to go walking everywhere."

Arya was stunned. "Thank you so much," she stumbled on the words, not expecting the present she had received. Ned and Catelyn had wide smiles on their faces, as they saw how pleased Arya was, she reached over the table to give both of her parents a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Of course we'll have to get you lessons," Catelyn was quick to continue. "And you are going to have to be extra careful on it."

Rickon piped up, "I got you something too!"

"Oh yeah, and what's that, little man?"

Catelyn reached into her purse and handed Arya a crudely wrapped box. "I wrapped it myself," Rickon said proudly.

She tore through the paper and opened the box to find a mug that had a photo of Arya and Nymeria printed on it from when she was just a pup. "Looks great Rick," she said honestly. Wondering where and when the photo had been taken.

Their order was brought out, with the smell of butter and garlic and lemon strongly. There was boeuf bourguignon for Ned, ratatouille for Sansa, confit salmon for Catelyn, pan-seared scallops in garlic sauce for Arya, and a plate of fries and a quiche Lorraine for Rickon.

Arya stole fries off of Rickon's plate when he wasn't looking, and mopped up some of the garlic sauces with the potato. She sighed contentedly as her family chatted around her.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom. On her way there she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Jaqen. "Lovely girl," he said bowing his head.

Arya cocked her head to the side as she assessed him. "Don't call me that," she told him as she made to push past him.

"Well, then what am I to call you?" he asked her with a playful smile on his lips.

"Arya," she stated before quickly walking away.

She locked herself in a cubicle, "Oh, Gods," she sighed pressed against the door.

As she was washing her hands, Sansa burst into the washroom. "Don't think I didn't see that," she told her sister.

"Hm? See what?"

"You and that Jaqen guy," Sansa said plainly.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Arya told her.

"Yes, I do," Sansa nodded her head. "I saw him eyeing you the entire time we've been here. And I've see you, trying to be surreptitious, looking at him too."

Arya felt her bad mood coming back on, "Sansa, stop it. We're not children. He's just a man who is serving us at a restaurant. Don't try to play matchmaker. I don't want to play this game."

And with that, Arya left her sister there. Shaking her head as she walked back to the table, she saw that dessert had arrived, and there was an array of pastries lined up. There was crème brûlée, mille-feuille, an éclair, chocolate mousse, and macarons. Arya's mood instantly perked at the sight of all of the sweets.

"So, Arya," Catelyn said, "have you enjoyed your dinner?"

"It was great. Thanks everyone. It would've been better if the whole family was here though."

With a nod of agreement, Ned covered the bill, and the family set about leaving. As she was trailing out of the restaurant, she heard her name called.

Jaqen pressed a piece of paper into her hand, and said, "It was lovely to meet you Arya Stark."

Arya's knees just about buckled as he turned on his heel. What just happened? Arya wondered as she strode out into the chilly evening. She unfurled the paper to find a phone number, with the words Valar Dohaeris written underneath it.

---

Arya was awoken by Rickon jumping on her in her bed.

Arya grumbled as she lifted a pillow onto her face. "Go away," she groaned as he continued to bounce on the bed.

"Happy birthday Arya," he screamed excitedly.

"Thanks," her voice was muffled through the pillow. "Now, go away."

Arya had never been much of morning person. This was doubled by the fact that the stresses in her life had multiplied phenomenally in the time she had been in King's Landing.

Dragging herself out of the comfort of her bed, she heard her mothers voice from the hall, "I still don't think it's suitable to give Arya that scooter, Ned. What if she falls?"

"Cat, we've talked about this. She'll be perfectly safe, and we'll get someone to teach her how to use it properly. You have nothing to worry about."

"But what if something does happen Ned, she's just a child."

Deciding that she'd heard enough, Arya tossed open her wardrobe doors and grabbed a pair of black shorts and one of her white button down shirts. She grabbed some clean underwear, and a pair of black stockings. Striding into the hall, her parents stopped talking once they saw her. "Happy birthday darling," Ned boomed and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy birthday Arya dear," Cat chimed in with a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks," Arya stated as she slid past them to the bathroom.

When she'd finished showering, the room was misty with steam, she wiped down the mirror to gaze at her reflection. "You look like you haven't slept in a week," she told herself as she rubbed her eyes and splashed some cold water on her face. Pulling on her fresh clothes, she walked out into the hallway, with her shirt unbuttoned, when she walked directly into the back of someone.

"Whoa!" she yelled as she steadied herself.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," chirped the boy. He had black hair with large ears poking out from beneath his locks. His eyes were bright blue, and looked startlingly familiar.

His eye line dropped to her chest, where her black bra was on display. Hastily, she covered herself, saying, "Dude, those aren't my eyes."

"Oh," he flushed a dark shade of red. "Sorry."

"Whatever," Arya pushed past him, wondering why strangers were always in her house on Saturday mornings.

She tugged on a pair of black combat boots, and a maroon blazer before she trampled down the stairs loudly. She strode into the kitchen to see Robert Baratheon chatting with an uncomfortable looking Catelyn.

Ned walked into the room behind her, his hand clasped onto the shoulder of the big-eared boy. "Arya, this is Edric Storm," Ned said as way of introduction.

Edric waved slightly, looking around the kitchen uneasily.

"We met," Arya crossed her arms over her chest, which only seemed to draw attention to the area she was trying to hide.

Robert turned around, only just noticing that anyone else was in the room. "I'm told it's your birthday today, how old are you now?"

"Seventeen," Arya stated, her arms still crossed, and petulance in her voice. Robert Baratheon was talking to her as though she was the same age as Rickon.

"Ah. A great age!" Robert boomed. "Remember what we got up to when we were seventeen, Ned?"

Ned chuckled, "I don't think those are any stories that my daughter or your son should be hearing."

Son? Arya wondered. She looked at Edric, who was tall and well-muscled, his thick black hair looked out of control, and his blue eyes were trained on something outside the window. She thought of Joffrey Baratheon, who was blonde haired, with green eyes, and a slight build. They look nothing alike, she surmised. How can these two be brothers? Gendry looks more like Edric than Joffrey.

As Arya's thoughts twisted in her mind, her phone began to ring loudly, she quickly stole out of the room and into the foyer, and seeing that it was Bran calling hurried to answer.

"Happy birthday Arya!" a chorus of voices shouted into the phone.

"Thanks everyone! Who's there?"

"Bran, Robb, Jeyne, Luwin, Theon," they all piped in.

"I miss you all," she told them. Her family in Winterfell chatted with her for a few minutes, with the lot of them trying to be heard over one another.

After bidding goodbye, and promising to call soon, Arya hung up the phone and stared at it in her hand, willing it to spring to life with Jon's name lighting up the screen.

She tried once more Jon's number, but again, she reached only his voicemail, "This is Jon. You know what to do." The sound of it almost taunted Arya as she hung up.

---

It was late afternoon by the time Robert and Edric left, Arya had filled her day with more coffee than she should have drunk, riding around on the estate on her brand new scooter, and filling in the crossword of the Westeros Times. Her phone beeped to life with a message from Hot Pie, "Wear something pretty and white, we're going dancing tonight."

"Did you just send me lyrics to a Neil Young song?" Arya sent back, amused.

"That may be so, but still, we are going dancing tonight!"

"Alright, HP, I'll see what I can do."

Arya sighed as she continued to complete the especially hard crossword. Largest river running through the Reach was the puzzle she was stuck on, with just an R at the end, the other five letters she could not figure out.

While she puzzled over the answer, her parents were hurrying around the house getting ready, with Ned dressed in a streamline black suit, with a thin black tie hanging around his neck. Catelyn looked elegant in a floor-length violet gown, her dark auburn hair done up with pearls embedded in it, with a string of pearls also encircling her neck.

"Why did he have to come here today?" Catelyn wailed at her husband.

"Cat, settle down. He just needs some help with the boy," Ned said, trying to calm his wife.

Catelyn had been in a flustered all afternoon, trying to get ready for the gala they were to be guests at. She had been rushing around the house trying to find things that she didn't really need, while also having to keep Rickon out of trouble.

"So, where are you off to this evening?" Sansa asked as she sat beside her sister on the plush leather couch.

"I don't know. Hot Pie just said that we're going dancing," Arya shrugged. She was not one for dancing, and planned on taking no part in it.

"Want me to help you get ready?"

"I think I'm capable of dressing myself, Sansa," Arya snapped at her, knowing that her sister would probably just try to grill her about Gendry, or possibly Jaqen. No matter who, Arya had no want for boy talk with her sister.

Sansa frowned, and pushed her long hair off of her shoulder, walking out of the room in indignation of her charity being refused.

As the sun was setting, Ned and Catelyn bid their children farewell, and made them promise to stay out of trouble.

"Always do," Arya chimed, which was very much false.

She hurried upstairs where she traded her white button down for a sleeveless black and white vertical striped shirt that was fitted loosely, and a thick black jumper that had red roses printed on the shoulders. Leaving the rest of her outfit the same, Arya regarded her appearance, deciding that she looked acceptable for a night out.

Her phone buzzed as Gendry sent through, "I'm out the front."

"Be there in a tick."

She jogged down the stairs, her hair whipping in front of her eyes as she ran. "I'm leaving now Sansa, you'll be alright with Rickon?"

Sansa looked at her sister with a knowing smile, "I'll be fine. Don't have too much fun tonight."

Rolling her eyes, Arya pushed through the front door, and jogged to the street where Gendry was leaning against the motorcycle, his blue t-shirt making his eyes look even more startling than they were, his legs were in dark jeans, and he had on a pair of black boots.

"Looking good Stark," Gendry whistled as she approached him.

Arya felt a flush on her cheeks, which she hoped he didn't notice.

"Here, I got you something," Gendry reached behind him and came back holding a folded black t-shirt.

"You shouldn't have," Arya said, uncomfortably. She unfurled the fabric to see a wolf howling at the moon printed on the front. "Wow, you really shouldn't have."

Gendry let out a loud laugh. "I thought you'd like that. I noticed your necklace," he said pointing at the pendant that hung about her neck.

"Oh, wow. Thanks."

"Now get on, before I freeze to death," Gendry said effectively changing the subject. Handing her the same half-helm she had worn the previous week, he quickly reached into his back pocket to get the ID that he had acquired. "Before I forget, here's your identity," he read the name, "Beth."

Looking at the laminated card in front of her, Arya scoffed, "This looks nothing like me. There's no way I'll get in."

"Brown hair, light eyes, female," Gendry said looking her up and down. "You'll get in."

"Okay, well if I don't, it's your own stupid fault then."

Gendry just laughed as the motorcycle roared to life beneath them. Arya awkwardly tried to get a grip on Gendry.

"Scoot closer," he told her through his helmet, "or you'll fall off."

Arya was pressed right against his back, with her arms circled around his well-muscled middle as they tore down the quiet street.

They parked the motorcycle in a crowded street. There were children running around and shouting and laughing with each other. There were drunken men walking in the middle of the road, with their beer bottles still in hand.

"Hot Pie's gonna meet us here, and then we're heading to the bar. Wanna come upstairs?"

Arya followed Gendry up the stairs to the fourth floor of the apartment complex. As soon as they entered, Arya noticed that this was definitely occupied by only males. There were pizza boxes and crockery and cutlery littering the coffee table, the walls were heavily marked, and there was a hole through the plaster right next to the doorway where it looked like someone had put there fist through it.

"Sorry, it's a mess here. I thought Hot Pie would be back by the time we got here," he rushed to move some of the dishes and clear a space on the couch.

"It's all good. Don't worry about it."

Arya sat down on the couch, and began to flip channels on the television. Effectively, making herself at home, without being told to do so. As Gendry continued to rush around trying to tidy the room, Arya settled on watching an episode of Daria.

Not paying much attention to the television, she let her eyes wander around the apartment, the walls were free of much hanging from them, and there were open books and magazines littering the floor. Arya crouched by the pile to take a look at the discarded books, when she noticed what one of the magazines was. She was looking at a scarcely dressed woman with an uncomfortable look on her face, rubbing what appeared to be a soapy sponge over her torso. Arya burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the photo, and wondering why anyone would bother with such an awkward photo.

"Everything alright in there?" Gendry called from the other room.

He walked in the room, and as Arya held up the magazine, all of the colour washed out of his face. "Shit," he cursed as he hurried to grab the magazine out of the hands and take it into the other room. Arya just couldn't stop laughing. The magazine was one thing, but Gendry's reaction to her finding it was altogether hilarious.

As Gendry returned to the room, looking red-faced, Arya had managed to subdue her hysterics to a mere chuckle.

"You shouldn't have seen that. I don't know—"

Arya cut him off, lifting her hands in the air between them. "Oh my goodness, it's a dirty magazine. I've seen them before."

Gendry just stared at her dumbly.

She turned her attention back to the screen to watch Daria. After a few minutes, she commented, "So, Gendry, you're in a band, does that mean you're like Trent? Sans the bad tattoos."

"Oh, there are bad tattoos," he informed her with a grin.

"Really? I want to see."

"Okay, this is going to look uncomfortable, but it's on my leg, so I'm gonna have to take off my pants."

"Gendry," Arya started, as she took in the uneasy expression on his face. "I've got four brothers, I've seen them in just their underwear before. Now stop acting like a damsel, and show me the ink!"

He unbuttoned his jeans, when Arya began to blush herself. She was as uncomfortable as Gendry about the situation, her bravado washing away quickly.

He pulled his jeans down to his knees to reveal a raging bull inked on the top of his thigh. Arya ran her finger along the design, forgetting that it was human skin she was touching. As she traced the bull, her fingers dusting lightly over the fine hair on his skin, the front door swung open, and Hot Pie shouted, "Jeez man! You knew I was coming around, what are you doing that on the couch for?!"

The uncomfortable situation felt a lot worse, but Gendry just burst out laughing, trying to explain that Arya had demanded to see his tattoo. Arya flushed red, thinking of how awkward that must have looked. "I was just looking at his tattoo," Arya informed Hot Pie, not looking him directly in the eye.

"Come on, let's just get going," Gendry said after recovering.

---

The line to the club they were going to was massive, stretching around the entire façade and down the alleyway beside the building.

"Are you kidding me?" Arya sighed as they approached the place. "We're gonna be stuck out here forever!"

"It's not what you know, it's who you know," Hot Pie said tapping the side of his nose.

Before Arya could question him, they walked straight up to the bouncer checking IDs, and were let in with no hassle after Gendry had a few words with the man. Arya's anxiety about the dodgy identification washing away as he glanced at the card for a second and handed it back, ushering her through.

The music was loud and pulsing as she made her way inside. Hot Pie had to chat with the bouncer in order to be let through, having a rough time of it.

Arya made a beeline for the bar, where the man beside her introduced himself. "Hi there, I'm Jack. What are you drinking?"

"Hey, um, ale."

He proceeded to order and pay for the drink, while trying to start conversation with her. Arya noticed that he was already considerably drunk, and decided to try and get out of the situation as quickly as possible, when she spotted Gendry.

Jack moved to grab her arm, as she tried to walk away. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just meeting my," Arya lied easily, "boyfriend."

Gendry walked up beside her, resting a protective hand on her shoulder. "You alright?" he asked looking between her and Jack.

"Yeah, all good. Let's get out of here," she slung an arm around his waist as they walked away.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Arya laughed, "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"You gotta watch out for those creeps," Gendry told her in a stern voice.

Hot Pie met up with them, after finally being let into the club, he proceeded to complain about how long it took for him for a solid 15 minutes.

They had managed to find a relatively quiet place in the beer garden when Hot Pie went to buy a round of drinks. "So, how's the birthday been?" Gendry asked her, his eyes trained on something just past her head.

"Oh, you know, same old thing. I don't really like my birthday."

"Don't like your birthday?" Gendry repeated. "Who doesn't like their birthday? It's the only day of the year that people have to be nice to you, and you can get them to do your bidding."

Arya just shrugged. She'd never had many friends, so parties were mostly family affairs, which were dull to say the least. Arya thought of herself as a lone wolf.

"I don't know, it's just built up so much, that it will never meet your expectations, and you'll just end up disappointed."

Gendry nodded, "Party pooper."

"Hey! Shut up, you stupid bull," she said punching his shoulder.

"Gendry!" a loud voice boomed. "And Gendry's friend."

Arya looked up to see almost all of The Seven standing above them, the one who had shouted was Beric, his red-gold hair hanging long in his face.

"Hey, man, I didn't think you were coming out tonight?"

"I'm always up for a drink, especially when ol' Tom here just lost an extraordinary bet to me, and is paying for said drinks." The pack of men laughed, apart from the man with thinning hair and a pointed nose, who was obviously Tom as he scowled. "So, who's your friend here?"

"Oh yeah, guys, this is Arya. We're celebrating!"

"Congratulations to the happy couple," Beric said, thinking that they were dating.

"No," Arya rushed to say. "No, no, no. We're not together. We're celebrating my birthday."

Gendry had a look on his face that Arya couldn't quite place, but quickly turned back to the conversation at hand. "That's right. Birthday celebrations in the form of pints."

"The best way to celebrate," Beric said, slapping Gendry on the shoulder. "We'll come find you when it's time for the show."

"The show?" Arya asked as she watched the band of men leave.

"Oh, yeah. I may have had ulterior motives in taking you here tonight. The band are playing here in about an hour."

Before Arya could respond, Hot Pie was placing full pints on the table before them. "Was that Beric and the guys?"

"Yeah, they're just getting ready for the show."

"Sweet."

Arya sipped at her pint, wondering about the band, and the boy who looked as if he was always pondering something. Gendry reached over and gently shook her knee, "Hey, sorry about that. I should've mentioned we were doing a gig here."

"All good," Arya laughed.

"You can stay backstage if you'd like. It gets pretty hectic here."

She just nodded, and the conversation was kept light and easy before the had to make their way to the stage.

---

Arya stayed backstage with Hot Pie, where he grabbed her arms and shook her to dance with him as the band played. There were bottles of liquor streaming in to the backstage area, Hot Pie and Arya had long forgotten their pints, and had proceeded to commence doing shots.

The alcohol was numbing Arya's senses as she continued to dance with her friend, the bands music extraordinarily loud, and the raucous cheering from the crowd dulling any other sounds.

"We have a special announcement," Beric called at the end of one of their final songs. "And that is a very special birthday wish to the one and only Beth!" He shot a look at Arya in the wing, before flashing her a toothy grin and a wink. Gendry had the same playful look on his face as they began a fast-paced track with a heavy bass beat.

The alcohol had left her feeling warm, while the dancing had made her feel like she was resting in a furnace. She stripped her jumper from her body, appreciating the fan that was blowing onto the stage. "More vodka!" Hot Pie shouted as he poured yet another shot for each of them.

After downing the clear liquid, the burn on her throat was much more subdued than the last few they had done. The bands set was coming to a close, and Arya was thankful to flop down in a ratty armchair that was situated against the wall, and not have Hot Pie pull her up for another dance.

"Arya!" Edric called as he spotted her after he placed his bass down.

"Told you I would be here, didn't I Ned?"

"I'm ever so sorry," he said with a bow. "I shall never doubt your honesty ever again. You have my deepest apologies."

"Cut it out, you loser," she said with a chuckle, giving him a light shove in the shoulder as the rest of the band continued to stream into the small room.

She spotted Gendry, who hung to the back of the room. Just as she was about to make her way over to him, a busty girl with curly black hair strode purposefully up to Gendry. She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. Arya felt her stomach tighten as she watched. She quickly turned away from the scene. Why didn't he tell me he had a girlfriend? she thought, feeling hurt.

"Are you alright?" Ned asked her as she grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a deep pull of the bitter brown liquid.

"I'm swell," she said drily. "I might just nip home. I've got this thing on tomorrow that I completely forgot about."

"Do you need a lift?" Ned offered with a kind smile.

"Oh, I was just going to catch a cab. I wouldn't want to put you out."

"No problem. I was thinking about leaving myself, anyway. This way, you're my out," Ned flashed another smile, his pearly whites dazzling in the dim light of the stage wing.

Arya skipped over to Hot Pie, "Hey HP, I'm heading off."

"So soon?" he asked with a frown.

"Yeah, I'm tired from all of that dancing you made me do," she said with a chuckle.

"It was good though," Hot Pie agreed with a laugh.

"I'll see you at school, yeah?"

"You know it."

Gendry was standing on his own again, which Arya was thankful for. She didn't want to be approaching him and his girlfriend, and be introduced as his kid-friend, little sister type friend. She didn't know why, but the thought of that stung.

"Heading off?" Gendry asked.

"Yeah," she said, avoiding eye contact. "I should be getting home." With that, she spun on her heel, wanting to leave the confined space as soon as possible. The alcohol was clouding her head, making her feel fuzzy. She felt as though she would do something incredibly stupid, like punch something or someone, if she stayed.

Ned led her to his car that was park a few streets over from the club. The cold wind immediately cut through her jumper as though someone had put ice cubes down her shirt. She shivered as they walked briskly to the car.

By the time they reached the vehicle, Arya felt certain that her fingers were going to start dropping off from the chill. The car burst to life, and the heater was blasting as they began to drive.

Arya was relishing in the flow of warm air that was flooding around her when Ned asked in a quiet voice, "So, you and Gendry, huh?"

"What?" Arya asked, perplexed.

"You and Gendry are seeing each other, right?"

"Oh, no. No, we're just friends. Anyway, doesn't he have a girlfriend?" Arya asked, thinking back to the black haired girl, with her long legs, and hourglass figure. Arya felt like a she looked a little kid in comparison.

"Did he tell you that?" Ned asked.

Well, no, Arya thought. But he didn't really have to. Instead, she just stayed silent.

Soon, they were pulling up in front of Arya's house, she gathered her jumper tighter around her body as she climbed out of the car. "Thanks again for the lift."

"You're welcome, and happy birthday Stark," he said before zooming away into the night.

Chapter Text

Arya woke on Sunday morning to birds singing outside her window. Their chirping irritating the dull buzz inside her head.

"What do you lot have to be so happy about?" she grumbled as she moved to close her window and drown the sound of the robin's morning songs.

She grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the floor that looked relatively clean, and a red and black plaid flannel shirt that was at least 2 sizes too big for her. She pulled on the thickest socks she could find as well as a black pair of combat boots. She trounced down the stairs, buttoning the shirt as she went, when she nearly walked straight into Sansa who was talking on the phone in the foyer.

"Watch out," Sansa shrieked at her sister.

Arya paid her no mind and continued on her journey to the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, and popped a couple of aspirin to stop the ache in her skull. She was eating a banana and sipping on her coffee when Sansa entered the kitchen, tucking her phone into the pocket of her pale blue skirt.

"You got home early last night," Sansa commented as she made herself a cup of tea.

"Yeah. Turns out I wasn't really in the mood for going out," Arya stated, replaying the events of the evening in her mind. The image of Gendry and the busty black haired girl causing her stomach to tighten yet again.

"What happened?"

"Nothing much."

"Come on Arya," Sansa pushed. "You can talk to me."

"It's just…" Arya started. "I didn't… Gendry didn't tell me he had a girlfriend." Her voice was small; she didn't want to be weak, didn't want to seem like a pathetic little girl, pining over a boy.

"Oh."

"You know what, just forget it. It's nothing, it's stupid" Arya waved off, downing the rest of her coffee and collecting herself from the table. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Arya, stop," Sansa's voice was stern, reminding Arya of their mother. The tone made her instantly stop in her tracks, and sit back in her seat. "Don't close me out. Tell me what's up."

"It's just…" Arya started again. This was unsure footing in unknown territory with Sansa. They weren't the kind to have sisterly chats, especially on the topic of boys, for which Arya had had no need before moving to King's Landing. "I really thought that Gendry liked me, but he's got a girlfriend, and… oh my gods!" Arya yelped with a sudden realisation. "I made him take his pants off in front of me."

"You did what?" Sansa gasped with a smirk on her face.

"He said he had a tattoo, so I made him show me," Arya shrugged, a blush creeping onto her skin as she thought of the awkward moment the night before. "He must really just see me as his 'kid friend'," Arya concluded sourly.

"Arya, don't for one second think that just because a guy has a girlfriend that you are anything less than the amazing little wolf that I know you are. And anyway, his eyes were way too close together," she laughed.

Arya joined in with her sisters' jape, feeling ten times better, after only a few words with her sister. She was still finding it hard to adjust to the change in attitude that had transpired between the two of them. Before leaving Winterfell, Arya would never have thought that she would be laughing about such matters with Sansa; the two of them were just too different. But from the time they had been residing in King's Landing, Arya had found her sister's company to be something that she didn't dread anymore. Is this how sisters are supposed to act? Arya caught herself thinking, as the pair continued to joke and laugh.

"Thank you Sansa," Arya said sincerely.

"Any time Arya," Sansa replied with a kind smile before she left the room gracefully, her long auburn hair flowing behind her.

Feeling much lighter than when she woke up, Arya grabbed the keys for her new scooter, she was planning on going on an adventure for the day.

She found her new mode of transportation gleaming in the sunlight. The silver bodywork of the Vespa LX 125 was shining bright, causing Arya to grin even wider. She still couldn't believe that her parents had gotten her this for a present; with her only having her learner's permit, she was surprised that she was able to even ride the thing on her own.

She mounted her scooter, it buzzed to life, feeling like a kid on a tricycle in comparison to how it felt on the back of Gendry's motorcycle. No, she scolded herself. Stop it. Today's not about Gendry.

She pushed her turquoise helmet over her hair, and pushed a large pair of sunglasses onto her nose. Being extra careful, she kicked the stand up and wavered only slightly as she fought to hold balance whilst crawling down the length of the driveway.

Once she was on the road, she felt herself relax. The streets were anything but busy, with hardly any cars on the road, and no pedestrians in sight, Arya felt a moment of freedom. She pushed all thoughts form her mind, focussing only on the feeling of the wind hitting her face, and of how she could spend the day doing anything she pleased. Feeling well and truly on top of the world.

The feeling was not destined to last too long though, as soon there was a car riding right behind her, beeping their horn furiously at her. "Go around, you bastard," Arya cursed.

They continued to honk their horn repeatedly.

Arya turned her head, flipping them her middle finger while doing so. This was when she managed to catch a glimpse of the car, and it's driver.

She pulled her scooter to the side of the road, hopping off, and tugging the helmet from her head. "Ned?" she asked as she walked over to his car, which was parked directly behind her.

"Hey there Arya," Ned greeted her, with a soft smile, his purple eyes twinkling in the bright morning sun. "Long time, no see," he joked.

"What in the hells was all that honking about, you psycho?" she asked immediately, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"How else is one meant to catch your attention?" Ned smirked.

"Any single other way," Arya said with a laugh. "And my first driving instructor said that I was a menace, clearly he'd never seen the likes of you."

"So," Ned looked nervous as he continued. He grabbed the back of his hair, ruffling his pale blonde locks. "What are you up to this fine day?"

"I just thought I'd take the beast for a spin," Arya nodded towards the tiny scooter ahead of them.

"Um, do you want to grab a coffee or something this afternoon?"

"That sounds great Ned," Arya smiled warmly at her friend. "I'll text you later, yeah?"

Ned looked a little flustered, "Yeah, fantastic, that's great."

Arya gave him a funny look as she walked off, jumping onto the scooter once more. He's acting weird, Arya thought as she rolled down the street, waving her hand over her shoulder at Ned.

She drove around the unfamiliar territory for half an hour before she managed to find a road that was lined with trees that were shedding their leaves for the winter. She rolled along the scenic drive for an age before coming into a dense forest, the steady asphalt becoming rocky dirt roads. Her scooter jerked forward over every bump, though she urged the machine to keep going.

Before long, she managed to find a clearing that was breathtaking. She dismounted, and swiped the sunglasses from her face, taking in the full beauty of the area she was in. The leaves were falling from the trees, colouring the ground in red and brown, the trees stretched far above her head in an intricate pattern of limbs and bark.

"Wow," she breathed as she began to walk into the tangle of trees.

The ground was soft underfoot from the rain the night before, but the sun was permeating through the branches to warm her skin.

She walked for fifteen minutes, still amazed at the spectacular views she was collecting. The trees were casting elaborate shadows over the entire forest; she followed the lines they were making, travelling deeper and deeper into the woods.

Arya soon came upon a spring that was steaming in the cool, still air. Large rocks surrounded the pool of water, there were red leaves colouring the pond almost like blood. Gingerly, Arya stepped towards the steaming water, and plunged her hand into it; the warm water felt magnificent against her cold skin. She proceeded to strip her clothes off and jump into the hot springs.

As the water lapped at her bare chest, she thought of Winterfell, and of the springs that her and her brothers had played in in the Godswood, under the watchful eye of the heart tree. She felt a pang in her chest thinking about Jon and Robb, and Bran still being able to run and jump and play. She missed her brothers with a ferocity that she didn't know she possessed.

She lay on her back, floating along the top of the water, a light breeze threatening to chill her exposed flesh. As she soaked in the warmth of the springs, she felt her worries draining away. She could hardly remember why she had gotten so hung up about the events of the night before, and any thoughts of her coursework seemed to flutter out of her mind.

By the time she made her way out of the pool, the sun was lowering itself in the sky; she guessed that it was about 4 o'clock. She quickly wrung her hair out and pulled her clothing on over her damp skin. As she was lacing her boots, a thought occurred to her, Ned! She had forgotten about their conversation this morning, and her promise for coffee. She felt around in her pockets for her phone, and realised that she had left it laying on her pillow at home. She rushed through the brush of forest, and made it back to her scooter in a quarter of the time it took the other way.

She started her scooter with a roar, and quickly sped over the rocky terrain, kicking up rocks and dirt, leaving a large trail of dust in her wake. She roared down the strip of tree-lined road, the sun continuing its descent into the hills.

Instead of going home to collect her phone, she figured that Ned would probably just be at the coffee shop. She slowed her bike as the streets began to close in with large cars and bustling crowds. After almost hitting a few people, Arya finally managed to pull up out the front of the coffee house, parking the scooter on the footpath. Tugging her helmet off of her wet hair, she pushed the dark brown strands out of her eyes and pushed into the shop, causing the bell above the door to ring violently.

Hot Pie was standing behind the milk steamer, when he looked up he had a bright smile on his face, though the bags beneath his eyes told Arya that he had stayed out for quite some time after she'd left the previous night. "Hey Arry," he called to her, using the nickname he had come up with. "Gendry's not working today."

"Hey there Hot Pie," Arya said, catching her breath. "I wasn't here to see Gendry. Is Ned around?"

"Ned?" Hot Pie wondered aloud. "Why would Ned be here?"

"He said something about grabbing coffee this afternoon," Arya confessed, feeling defeated after she had raced her way over here from the other side of town. "Don't worry about it. I'll just see him tomorrow, I guess."

"Mm," Hot Pie nodded, pouring the steamed milk into a flowering design through the coffee. "Do you want the usual?"

"Yeah, actually, that'd be great. Give it to me in a to-go cup."

"Aye, aye, captain," he replied with a salute.

Arya was still feeling disheartened about making the effort to race over here for nought. "Can you just take that latte to her over in the corner?"

She grabbed the extremely pretty coffee and turned around to find a tall redhead sitting at the table with a weathered looking book perched in her hands, and pale pink headphones covering her ears. Arya strode purposefully towards her sister, placing the coffee in front of her.

Sansa turned her face upwards, beginning to thank her server, when her eyes widened, surprised. "Oh, Arya. What are you doing here?" she asked, pushing the headphones from her ears.

"Don't you 'Oh, Arya,' me," she said, feeling flustered. "What are you doing here?"

Sansa waved her hands at the coffee and her book, "I think that would be pretty obvious."

Arya snorted derisively, "You know what I mean Sansa."

"Nothing, Arya, honestly. I just wanted to have a quiet moment to myself. Not everything has to be fuelled by ulterior motives." Arya suddenly felt guilty, remembering how kind Sansa had been to her that morning, and all she had done in return was make snarky comments and be rude. "Anyways, why do you look like a drowned rat?"

Arya tugged on her short, damp hair defensively. "I went out into the Kingswood, and there's a hot springs, just like back home," she confessed.

Sansa smiled prettily at her younger sister, "See, Arya, it's not so bad here in King's Landing, you can find new things to enjoy."

"Can I ask you about something?" Arya was fiddling with the lengths of her plaid shirt, twisting the thick fabric between her fingers.

"Of course."

"So, you know on Friday, how we were at that restaurant?" Sansa nodded. "And you kept asking me about that Jaqen guy?" Sansa nodded again, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "Well, he kind of, sort of, gave me his number…"

"Oh my gods, Arya," Sansa squealed. "He was so fit."

Arya rolled her eyes at her sisters' reaction. "Sansa," she groaned, "that's not helpful in the slightest."

"You're right, you're right," Sansa conceded, calming herself down, though a wide smile still stretched across her face.

Hot Pie brought Arya's coffee to the table, an amused look on his face at the two girls. "Hot Pie, you haven't met my sister Sansa?"

"Uh," Hot Pie fumbled, looking rather nervous, as he avoided the gaze of Sansa's pretty blue eyes, "no. Nice to meet you."

"And you," Sansa smiled at the rotund boy, still holding onto the take away cup.

"Hot Pie," Arya tried snapping him out of the trance Sansa seemed to be able to engage in anyone of the opposite gender. "I'll take that coffee now."

"Oh, right. Yeah, of course," he stumbled to get the words out before quickly scampering away back behind the counter.

Arya simply shook her head at her friend. "Okay," Sansa started, "so do you like this Jaqen guy?"

Arya nodded, a flush rushing to redden her cheeks as she thought of the fluttering, weak-kneed sensation she had felt when he had given her his phone number.

"Well, you're going to have to call him," Sansa said surely, nodding her head. "There's this fantastic art exhibit on at the Dragonpit on Rhaenys's Hill this Wednesday."

"I can't just call him…" Arya started when the sound of the bell above the door chimed through the near-empty café.

"What arse parked their wee bike in front of the bloody store?" boomed Gendry's deep voice.

Mentally preparing herself, Arya stepped towards the dark haired boy, "I believe you're looking for me then, you bastard."

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

"Come on Sansa, we've got to go," Arya called over her shoulder, wanting to escape as soon as possible.

Sansa drained the rest of her coffee, and collected her things from the table, taking far too long for Arya's liking. While her sister was fumbling through her oversized leather handbag, Gendry gently grabbed her forearm, and said, "Sorry about that."

When Arya just snorted and rolled her eyes, "You also left so quickly last night, you forgot to get your present from my flat."

Thinking back to the stupid wolf t-shirt he had bought her, she let out a short chuckle. "Tell you what, next time I'm over, I'll be sure to grab that one from you." Gendry's brow was furrowed, and she knew that she was being rude, but it was just her knee-jerk reaction to do so. "Hurry up Sansa, let's go."

"Bye Arya," Gendry said as they swept from the café into the dwindling sunlight of the afternoon.

"Are you sure he has a girlfriend?" Sansa asked, throwing a look back at the café. "Because the way he's still watching you, seems like…"

"No, stop," Arya told her sister, thrusting the spare helmet from the scooters pod into her sisters' hands. She pulled her own helmet on, and ignoring Sansa protests, and pleas for her sister to go slowly, and they were off, whizzing down the street in a speed that made Sansa yelp.

Sansa had managed to persuade Arya to call Jaqen that evening. She had written a rough script for her, as Arya fumbled nervously with the scrap of paper and her phone.

"Hello?" rang Jaqen's accented voice through the phone's speaker.

"Oh, um," Arya stumbled. "Hi, this is Arya. We met a couple of nights ago?" She felt uncertain, like he probably just gave his number to any girl, and wouldn't even remember who she was.

"Yes, hello lovely girl."

Arya felt her cheeks flush, to which Sansa laughed, poking her sister in the ribs, amplifying the level of embarrassment that was coursing through her. "Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to go to an exhibit that was on this Wednesday?"

"But of course, lovely girl. A man would be honoured."

"Okay, great. It's at the Dragonpit on Rhaenys's Hill at, uh," checking her script for the details, "seven o'clock."

"So, shall I pick you up at six?" Jaqen's smooth voice melted through the phone, making Arya's heart flutter.

"Okay," her cheeks felt even more heated as she continued to talk with him. She gave her address, almost forgetting the street of her new house and listing her home from up north.

"I'll be seeing you Arya Stark," he said before hanging up.

"Oh gods," Arya started, her stomach flipping in nervous anticipation.

Sansa had a bright smile on her face as she looked at her sister. "Okay, now that the date is sorted, you're definitely going to have to borrow something of mine to wear. There's not a chance you'll get into the exhibit looking like an urchin in your flannel and old jeans," she said looking at Arya's outfit with disdain.

Rolling her eyes, Arya conceded, "Fine, Sansa, but not tonight. I think I've gone through enough for one night. And I've got a big test on tomorrow, that I haven't even begun to study for."

She flipped through her messages, finding nothing new from Ned, she begun to apologise. "Hey Ned, sorry about missing coffee. I tried to catch you at the coffee shop but HP said you hadn't been in. How about after school tomorrow?"

Dropping her phone, she set about studying for the history exam she had the following day, while also practicing her Valyrian conjugations for the oral test she had later in the week.

Feeling defeated, Arya retired from her studies an hour after they begun. The day had certainly not gone to plan for her. Though not all of the events that transpired could be seen as negative.

She curled into bed that night feeling a nervous excitement in the pit of her stomach for the events of the coming week.

She woke the next morning to Sansa banging loudly on her door, "Arya! Get up! You're going to be late!"

Rolling over and glancing at her alarm clock, she was surprised to see the time was already 8.30am, and she had to be at school in a half an hour. Jumping from her bed at a great speed, she stripped off her nightclothes, and tugged on her white school shirt, buttoning it wrong in her haste, she pulled on a pair of stockings, her nail catching in the leg causing a long ladder to tear up the length. She tugged on her skirt and shoes, threw her tie around her neck and grabbed her book bag before storming down the stairs. Sansa had already left, leaving Arya to lock up the large empty house. Her parents were already out, Ned at work, while Catelyn was dropping Rickon off at the pre-school before going to coffee with one of the mothers of Sansa's friends.

She sped out of the driveway on her scooter; thankful for the birthday present she had been given only a few days earlier. She tore down the streets, weaving through the morning traffic of business people trying to get to their places of employment. She was stopped at a red light, only a couple of blocks from the Red Keep when she glanced at her watch and noticed that it was already 8:55am. The lights flashed green and she let the scooter push off and around the corners in much the same haste as she had gotten ready. She pulled her scooter into the parking lot, and ran to the large red doors of the school just as it ticked over to 9am.

The teacher that was readying to shut and lock the doors noted, "Just in time, young lady," with a kind smile.

Arya smiled, though thought, I am no lady.

She pushed her book bag into her crammed locker, collecting her history notebook and several pens, readying herself for the test on the Siege of Pyke and the history of the Ironborn Rebellion.

About halfway through the test, Arya's brain was feeling numb, and she felt as though she had forgotten everything she had tried to force into it the previous night. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket before it loudly begun ringing to the tune of Black Flag's Rise Above. "Shit," Arya cursed.

The teachers' ears perked up at the sound of the music. She scanned the room before her eyes settled on Arya. "Ms. Stark," her voice was cold. "Why am I not surprised that it's you who is disrupting the class?"

Arya opened her mouth, about to retort. "No, out. Get out of my class."

"But I haven't finished my test," Arya started.

"And you won't," the teacher smiled. "Now, go to the principal's office."

Glumly, Arya gathered herself and her things from her desk, leaving her almost-finished paper in the dead centre of the desk. As soon as she was out of the room she glanced at her phone to see the missed call was from Gendry. She called him back instantly.

"Hey," his deep voice rang through the phone.

"Shut up," she told him. "Because of you, I just got kicked out of an exam, you big idiot."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

"No, be quiet," Arya ordered him as she stormed through the long, empty corridors of the school. "It's a fucking Monday morning, where did you think I was going to be?"

"I didn't…"

"Shut up," she told him again. She sighed deeply, as she slouched against the wall, resting her belongings on top of the row of lockers. "What did you want?" she asked, softening.

"I was just, um, wondering if you wanted to go to this place on the Street of Flour this afternoon? I remember you saying something about having a sweet tooth?"

"This afternoon? I can't. I'm getting coffee with Ned."

"Ned?" Gendry asked, his voice sounding tense. "Okay, it's no worry. Maybe some other time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Arya said before Gendry hung up.

She shook her head, feeling utterly defeated. She could never figure out Gendry, she wasn't sure that she would ever be able to understand what he was thinking.

After seeing the principal, she was told that she would have to have a make up test the following week, and that there was a zero tolerance policy on the use of mobile phones during classes. Arya nodded and agreed. She was sentenced with a week of detention starting that afternoon.

Fan-fucking-tastic, she thought sourly as she exited the office, suppressing the urge to slam the door behind her.

She went about the rest of her classes as normal, thinking about Gendry, and then Jaqen and her date with him. What have you gotten yourself into, Stark?

At lunch, she found Hot Pie in the middle of a story to Lommy and Ned, the boys chuckling along as Hot Pie waved his arms about frantically, as if the story could not be physically held inside him.

"…and by that time the whole thing was on fire!"

The table was laughing, leaving Arya feeling thoroughly confused. So she simply started to eat the sandwich laid on her lunch tray.

Ned turned to her then, "Still on for coffee?"

Arya's mouth was full of bread when she said, "Yeah, sure."

Ned had a smirk on his face as he watched her.

 

That afternoon, after her session of detention, she found herself in amiable conversation at an unfamiliar café with Ned. He was in the middle of a story about Beric from when The Seven were on tour in the Westerlands over the summer.

"…and Beric is almost hyperventilating because Anguy is ten minutes late. I swear he was on the verge of passing out he was so stressed out," he concluded with a chuckle.

"Wow, he gets pretty intense," Arya whistled with a laugh.

"Yeah, just a bit."

The café they were in was a hub of activity, with a large group of what appeared to be students from the university in town gathered around a length of tables pushed together. Their laughter reverberated around the high ceiling of the place. In the corner there was a man with greying hair and a clipped beard hammering away on the keyboard of his laptop. Arya thought he looked like the kind of person that goes into coffeehouses to tell anyone who would listen that they were writing their latest screenplay.

"So, what's the North like?" Ned asked her. "I've always wanted to go."

Arya took a sip of her coffee and thought of what she could explain of her home. "It's cold," she laughed, "much colder than down south here. And it's wild, unruly. There are tangles of forests, and much of the land is inhabitable. But it is the most beautiful place I have ever seen, and in Winterfell the walls are plumbed with water from the hot springs. Snow falls for about 9 months of the year, and the summers are short-lived."

"Wow," Ned breathed, watching Arya closely as she recounted her home, with a faraway look in her pensive grey eyes.

"Yeah," Arya agreed, a pang of homesickness striking her. She thought of her three brothers that she missed from the depths of her soul, and of Nymeria, who was on her own somewhere near the Neck the last time she saw her.

She drained the last of her coffee, and bid her farewell to Ned, "Thanks for the coffee. It's been a good afternoon, considering the poor beginning of the day."

"Any time, Stark," he told her as he pulled her into a hug on the footpath outside the café.

Arya was taken aback by the gesture, not usually one for physical contact. She stood awkwardly and sort of half-pat Ned's back before he pulled away.

"Well, see you at school," she said, tugging her helmet onto her head and mounting the scooter. She zoomed home, once again silently thanking her parents for the scoter as a birthday present. She'd only had it for a few days, and already couldn't think of how she had managed to only travel on foot and by city bus beforehand.

As she pulled into the driveway, she was thankful that she could strip out of her constricting school uniform. Though as she pushed through the front door she managed to barrel straight into another person. She was sprawled on top of them on the foyer.

"What in the seven hells!" she shouted.

"S-sorry," the boy she was on top of whimpered.

She looked at the face of the boy, taking in his dark hair and clear blue eyes, she thought that she had managed to fall all over Gendry. An embarrassment filled her up, which was quickly replaced with anger, remembering her earlier conversation with him and the trouble he had gotten her into. Though then she caught a glimpse of his big ears poking out from under his thick curtain of hair, and the soft line of his jaw, as well as the roundness of his face, and she realised that it was Edric, the boy who Robert Baratheon had brought over the previous weekend.

"Watch where you're walking," she spat as she climbed back to her feet, her good mood from earlier quacking falling away.

"I'm sorry," he said, avoiding her gaze. He was a good deal taller than her, though he appeared to be a touch afraid of Arya, even with her short stature and slender frame.

With another chastisement on the tip of her tongue, Catelyn's voice rang through the foyer, "Arya, can you come into the parlour please, dear?"

Groaning, she shoved past the clumsy boy she seemed to always greet rudely and violently. Only feeling slightly bad for her outburst, she pushed through the doorway and into the brightly lit parlour. The late afternoon sun was shining through the open window, painting the walls a brilliant yellow.

"What's up?" she asked as she dropped her book bag by the doorway.

"Sit down," Catelyn nodded to a padded armchair opposite her. Arya obliged, slumping into the large seat before unlacing and kicking off her shoes.

There was a pot of tea steaming on the small table between the pair of them, as well as a plate of biscuits. Catelyn poured herself and Arya a cup, the scent of oranges wafting through the air as the tea filled the containers. "Sugar?"

"Three please," Arya said, to which Catelyn simply frowned, placing in only two.

Sighing and pouring a dash of milk into the cup, she stirred the tea vigorously, hoping to dissolve all the sugar in her haste. The tea began to spill onto the saucer, to which Catelyn simply sighed, resigning herself to the fact that Arya would never be as ladylike as her older sister.

Snatching up three of the jam biscuits laid on the platter; Arya dunked one of them into her tea and asked, "What's up Mum?"

"Arya, you're not going to like what I'm about to say, but…" Arya let out a low groan, thinking that her mother was going to go on another spiel about her schoolwork, and the few friendships that she had actually managed to make, about having to act like a responsible adult.

"Mother. We've had this conversation too many times to count since we've been in King's Landing. And I don't know how many times to tell you that I'm fine. Everything's going well, and that I'm probably never going to be the pristine little lady that you were hoping for."

"Arya, I only want what's best for you, you must know that," Catelyn took a sip of her tea, "and don't think for a second that you are not exactly what I want as a daughter. I mean, you have the manners of a goat, and I don't think I will ever be able to fully understand you, but I love you."

Bad thoughts suddenly began to fill Arya's mind. Oh gods, what's happened? Who's hurt? Is someone sick? "Mum, what's wrong?" she asked sombrely.

Laying her cup and saucer down, Catelyn let out a deep sigh, which only caused Arya's heart to clench, thinking the worst. "I've got to go back to Winterfell for a few weeks," she said finally.

Relief instantly filled Arya's mind, "Fantastic, when are we heading home?"

"I'm sorry honey, but you've got to stay here. You've got school, and your exams will be coming up soon."

"Are you serious?" Arya exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. "I'm not staying here, while you go home! That's not fair. You're the one who wanted to come to the south in the first place. Why do I have to...?"

"That's enough, Arya," her father's voice came from behind her, cutting her off mid-shout. "This is what has to happen."

"But Dad, why? I want to go home, I want to see Bran and Robb, I miss home," she sounded so crushed.

"I know," he said, wrapping his arms around his youngest daughter, the scruff of stubble on his chin scratching her forehead in the embrace. "We'll get to go back soon enough, but for right now our place is here."

Arya gave in; she always gave in to her father. Though, that was not to say that she was happy about the situation. She sucked in a large breath of air, and extracted herself from her father's arms. "Fine," she said simply. "I'm going out for dinner with a friend tonight, and on Wednesday. I'll be back later."

Catelyn looked ready to say something to reprimand her daughter about it being a school night when Ned cut in, saying, "Of course, Arya. Don't be home too late."

Ned always knew when to give Arya space. She was so much like her father in so many respects; it was like he could read her mind at some points. Gathering her things, she climbed the stairs, thanking the gods that Edric was nowhere in sight, she thought if she had run into him again she might actually hit him.

She was sitting on her bed in just her bra, pants and socks when she contemplated where she would go for the evening. Not wanting to be in the house, fearing what she might say, she needed to find somewhere else to spend the next few hours. She scrolled through the contacts in her phone, hovering over Jon's number, whom she still hadn't heard from, before scrolling back up and calling Gendry.

The phone rang only once before it was answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Arya," she stated unsurely into the phone. Their conversation from earlier had ended abruptly, and she still hadn't totally forgiven him for calling and getting her detention.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"Are you busy? I really need someone to talk to."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. He muttered an almost inaudible curse, before saying, "Sure. I'll come get you. You home?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

She pulled on a black sweater, and tugged on a pair of ratty jeans, she stayed in her room while she waited, not wanting to get into an argument with her mother, and still upset that nothing ever seemed to go her way.

By the time her phone buzzed signalling Gendry's arrival, the sun was laying low on the horizon, the encroaching night bringing about a chilly night with a cloudless sky. She ran down the stairs, dodging the array of toys Rickon had left over the steps.

"I'm leaving!" she yelled to anyone who could hear her. "I'll be back later!"

She jogged down the length of the driveway, and came to a standstill on the footpath. The feeling of déjà vu she got looking at Gendry slouched against his motorcycle, his arms folded as he waited. This was like Saturday night all over again.

"Get on," he grunted, thrusting his spare helmet into her hands.

Without any other words, they roared to life and were away. Arya was still uncomfortable with the physical contact of being a shotgun passenger, but Gendry grabbed her thigh with one of his gloved hands and gave her a tug forward, indicating that she needed to scoot closer.

The streets were quiet as they rolled through them, the sun finally going down, to reveal a bright, near-full moon that was high in the sky. The tall office buildings of the business district were mostly dark, their façades all blending into the same grey blur as the chopper drove by. Soon, they were driving through an area Arya hadn't seen before; one side of the street was lined with dense forest, while the other boasted factories with large chimneys that were billowing smoke, the sound of machinery still loud, despite the late hour.

They drove beneath a tall concrete arch that was laced with wrought iron, the metal twisting into beautiful, intricate designs over the dull stone beneath. The gates were open; the same metal work was used for the doors. Arya was wondering why they would need such an extravagant gate, but then Arya remembered the first day she had arrived in King's Landing. The car had gone beneath a gate at least 30 feet tall, the archway was surrounded by sculptures of dragons snarling at anyone who approached.

They were driving through Flea Bottom when Gendry pulled over to the side of the road and flipped the visor on his helmet. His blue eyes looked almost green in the dim light that was cast upon them by the streetlamps, "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Anywhere. I just need to get away from everything for a bit."

Arya thought she saw Gendry's lips twitched into a small smile, but he quickly flipped the visor up and turned back around in his seat. He waited for her to readjust and pull herself even closer to him. He turned the bike around and drove back through the iron gate they had just passed beneath, and along a road that was surrounded by tall trees and shrubs.

They drove for only a few minutes before he turned down a small side road that Arya hadn't even noticed. It was a precarious trip down this small path, the road was so poorly maintained, Arya was worried she might be flung off of the bike, she clung tighter to Gendry's jacket, hoping he didn't notice.

The bike stopped in a secluded area, there were only a few buildings with their lights on about a hundred metres away. Arya clambered off of the motorcycle, tugging off her helmet, and the smell of salt and sea hit her nostrils straight away. "Is this the Blackwater?" she asked.

"The bay, not the rush," he nodded.

"Well, duh, stupid," she snarled at him.

"You know," Gendry's voice was light, "you really have the worst manners of anyone I have ever met. What do they teach you at the fancy Red Keep?"

Arya gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs with her elbow, "Oh, shut up."

The two of them began to walk, the sand slipping beneath their shoes, Arya decided to kick off her shoes and socks, enjoying the feeling of the cold sand between her toes as she walked. Gendry quickly followed suit, and the pair of them were walking side by side, the sound of the waves rushing onto the shore a gentle reminder not to walk too far.

After some time of quiet, Gendry slowed his pace and grabbed Arya's elbow to bring her to face him, "So, what's wrong? You sounded pretty upset on the phone."

"Oh," Arya grabbed at the back of her hair, hating to seem weak, especially in front of Gendry. "My mother and brother are going home, back to Winterfell, for a few weeks, and I have to stay here because of school."

Gendry placed a rough hand on her shoulder, "That sucks," he commented. "I know how much you miss it there." Arya simply nodded her reply, she kept her head low, feeling a lump in her throat. I will not cry, she thought, forcing down the unwanted feeling.

Instead of facing Gendry, she simply lowered herself onto the sand, laying herself on her back and gazing up at the stars, forming their riddle of complicated constellations. After a moments hesitation, Gendry lay down beside her, his leg brushing against hers as it did. She could feel him watching her as she continued to try and pick out the star formations that she knew. "Do you know any of them?" Gendry asked in almost a whisper as he watched her eyes flick over the tiny lights.

"I know a couple. Robb taught me a whole bunch of them, but I can't remember many of them anymore. That one there," she reached her arm up and traced the outline, "is the Little Dipper."

She glanced at Gendry's face; his brow was furrowed as he tried to follow her instruction. "Here," she said grabbing onto one of his hands, "I'll help." She pointed to a bright star hanging nearly straight above where they lay, "That one there is the North star, you follow that along, and it sort of curves," she trailed his pointed finger along the rough area of the line of stars. "The next bit there forms sort of a soup ladle," she told him, which got a chuckle out of him. "Do you see it?"

"I think so," he told her as his eyes were still trained on the sky. She slowly traced his outstretched hand along the curve of the constellation once again. She left her hand rested on top of his as they lowered their limbs. Slowly, he twined his fingers with hers, and they both continued to lay there, the rolling waves the only sound other than the gentle rise and fall of inhalation and exhalation from the pair of them.

They lay like that for some time, Arya breathing in the salty ocean breeze, all negative thoughts rushing from her mind. She felt Gendry stir beside her, she tilted her head to the side to watch him, his eyes were flickering between open and closed, and she took the time to study the planes of his face; his strong, high cheekbones, the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. She took in the short stubble that covered his jaw, and the way his lips parted slightly as he exhaled. He opened his eyes, blinking to try and force himself to stay awake. His bright blue eyes staring straight into her grey ones. Arya could see the bright orb of the near-full moon reflected in his clear eyes.

"A bit tired?" she asked with a chuckle.

Gendry started to lift his head, the back of his hair muddled with the white sand. His eyes were still only half open as a sweet, drowsy smile broke across his face. His fingers gave hers a light squeeze.

"Come on then, sleepyhead," Arya told him, "we'd better get home now, otherwise we'll be spending the night here."

She gave his hand a gentle tug, to try and coax him to get up, knowing that there was not a chance that she would be able to simply pull him to his feet. Instead of moving though, he just tugged her by the hand closer to him, causing their bodies to press together tightly. Arya felt her breath catch in her throat, the closeness, and intimacy of the moment overwhelming her.

Oh, Gods, she remembered, he's got a girlfriend.

"Come on Gendry," she said with more authority this time. The sudden realisation left her feeling like a tonne of bricks had been dropped onto her stomach. "I've got to get home." She untangled her fingers from his, and he let out a soft groan.

"No, stay here," he told her, his eyes closed. They were still in such close proximity; Arya was struggling to hold her resolve to leave.

She gave his shoulder a rough shake, to try and snap him out of whatever dream-state he was in. "I can't sleep on the beach. I've got school tomorrow."

His eyes opened finally, and he began to sit up, his t-shirt spilling sand onto the lap of his trousers, he looked down at how close together they were seated, before Arya quickly scurried a few extra inches away. He had a frown on his face, and his brow was furrowed as he looked at her.

"Okay," he said finally, after coming fully back to his senses. "I guess I should get you home." He gathered himself to his feet before reaching a hand down to help Arya up. She took it, and was surprised when Gendry didn't simply drop her hand, but instead gave it a squeeze and folded his fingers between hers. "Are you at least feeling better about everything?"

Arya gave a slight nod, as she struggled to think about her mother and youngest brother leaving, and why she had been so upset about it. She had a fluttering in her chest, as she kept hold of Gendry's hand.

Chapter Text

As she was walking away from Gendry, the lightheaded feeling stayed. She turned her head to wave back at him as she strode up the driveway, and was met with a wide grin as he watched her walk away.

When she had made it to the front porch, which was bathed in warm yellow light, she heard his motorcycle roar to life. She quickly glanced down at her watch to see that it was already 11pm. Having stayed out a lot later than she was supposed to for school nights, she attempted to tip-toe in the house, hoping that she would go unannounced.

As soon as the door creaked open, her parents appeared in the foyer, with stern looks on their faces.

"And where were you, young lady?" Catelyn asked with a frown.

"With a friend," Arya said simply, the feeling of irritation at her mother returning, as she remembered that she got to escape King's Landing and go home.

"What sort of time do you call this?" Catelyn snapped, hoping her sharp tone would get through to her like it used to when she was a child.

Arya glanced at her watch, "Oh, it's about 5 to 11." Catelyn's face started to redden at her daughters' insolence, but just then Ned let out a laugh at Arya's jape.

Arya broke into a grin, knowing that she was off the hook. Her father did always have a soft spot for her and her antics. He said that she was so much like his sister Lyanna, whom he probably had just as hard a time denying anything.

"Go on, get to bed," Ned told her, as he turned to face his angered wife.

"Ned," Catelyn chastised, "it is a school night. She can't just be wandering around the streets this late at night. And who are these friends she was with? We've never even met them. What if she's getting in with a bad crowd? And what if…?"

Arya's mother's rant continued on as Arya rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs to her bedroom.

Feeling light, she dropped onto her bed, fully clothed, and sleep quickly found her.

---

 

Arya was sitting at her regular lunch table the next day when Sansa came up and asked to speak with her. Hot Pie was staring like he was afraid of her as she approached the table; the usual effect that her sister managed to have on the opposite sex.

"What's up Sans?"

"I feel like such an idiot," Sansa told her sister, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Come with me," she led Arya away from the crowded cafeteria, to a empty hallway.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you know that art exhibit that you're going to tomorrow night?" Arya nodded. "Well, it's not tomorrow night. It's tonight."

"What?" Arya asked, her stomach tightening.

"It's tonight," Sansa repeated, as though Arya had actually misheard her. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Gods," Arya breathed, thinking about the awkward conversation of calling Jaqen to change to time and date of their, well, date. She breathed out heavily through her nose, trying to settle her nerves.

"Okay, I can do this," she told herself, as she fished her phone from the small pocket concealed on her skirt.

She flipped through the numbers, until she found the one she was looking for, letting out a deep breath, and feeling her nerves pitch in her throat, she pressed the number, and hoped that he might miss the call, and she could just leave a message, and ignore the whole embarrassing conversation.

As her luck would have it though, he picked up the call after only two rings. "Hello there, lovely girl," he answered.

She felt her stomach flip as she heard his thick accented voice. "Hi, um, I was just calling because," she started, "I may have gotten the day wrong for that art show that we were going to see tomorrow."

"Oh," he said, "so when is it then?"

"Uh, tonight," Arya confessed, before quickly adding, "I know it's last minute, and I understand if you want to cancel. Sorry."

She was about to disconnect the call, to put herself out of her misery, when his voice rang through the speaker, "It is not a problem, lovely girl. Tonight is just as well."

"Oh, okay," Arya blinked.

"I shall see you at six o'clock."

The phone clicked off, and Sansa was carefully watching her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I'm so sorry Arya," she gushed. "I wasn't thinking when I told you that date. I'm sorry I ruined everything."

"Uh, he's coming over to pick me up at six," Arya said in a sort of dazed voice.

Sansa beamed at her younger sister, the weight of her miscommunication visibly lifting from her. "We've still got to pick out your outfit for tonight," Sansa remembered suddenly. "Come home straight after school today," she ordered Arya.

"I've got a detention, but I'll be home after 4."

"Detention?" Sansa questioned. "Gods, Arya, can't you ever just stay out of trouble?"

"Hey, this wasn't even my fault! It was my stupid phone in the middle of an exam."

The two sisters parted ways, Sansa returning to her seat between her friend Jeyne Poole, and her spoilt brat of a boyfriend Joffrey Baratheon. Arya still wasn't sure what she saw in him, she thought he looked like a snake with blonde hair. Sansa quickly resumed conversation with the table full of footballers and cheerleaders, Joffrey's arm slipping around her shoulders.

Arya made her way back to her own table, the boys were in a loud conversation about Lommy's recent holiday to the Red Flower Vale in the Summer Isles.

The rest of the day passed as any other Tuesday would, with Arya praying for the end to come sooner. As the final bell rang, and she collected her book bag from her locker and made her way to detention.

She found her way to the library, and was walking to the back section when she heard a voice call her name.

She spun on her heel to find a man dressed in a ragged looking suit, he had a few small golden hoops looped through his earlobes. His bald head shone under the harsh fluorescent lights of the library, and twinkling in his mouth was a golden tooth. "Yes," she answered shortly.

"Today, you are with me," he told her, before turning and walking out of the library without so much as a glance back.

Arya looked around to see if there was anyone else who was going to be taking her for detention, seeing no one, she shrugged and hurried off to catch up to the strange man. She caught up to his quick steps, and had to keep up a semi-jog in order to stay at the same pace. They rounded the corridors, for a few minutes before they entered the gym. The squeaking of shoes echoing off of the high ceiling. She heard basketballs bouncing on the far side of the gym, and saw groups of sweaty boys and girls running up and down the length of the courts.

Arya gazed at the man who was taking her for this detention, "So, who are you?"

"My name is Syrio Forel," he told her, and she noticed the eastern accent that tinged his words. "And I am going to be teaching you the art of Water Dance."

"Dancing?" Arya asked, bemused. "What sort of a detention is dancing?"

"No, not dancing, girl," Syrio snapped at her. "Water dancing. You are learning how to defend yourself, at the request of your father."

"My father?" Arya was confused. "But I'm here for my detention."

"All is sorted, girl, all you must do now is learn the dance."

He kicked off his shoes, and took off his jacket, rolling his sleeves to the elbow, Arya followed suit, her uniform constricting her movement quite a bit.

"Watch, girl," Syrio instructed her. He let out a deep breath, his arms moving rhythmically at his side.

What a joke, Arya thought, as she watched him, looking like he was about to start a yoga class.

Suddenly, his arms moved out, and in a series of quick movements, he was fighting against the thin air, his arms striking where a head would be, and his legs kicking out the imaginary legs of his opponent. Arya felt her mouth hanging open as she watched the man who moved quicker than she thought able in his suit.

There was a man standing in the doorway, whom Syrio called over to help with a demonstration of just what water dancing was. The man introduced himself as Qarro, speaking in the same accent as Syrio.

The pair moved slowly to begin with, Arya watching the in's and out's of the movements carefully, trying to absorb as much of it as she could. Before long they sped up, and Arya found it hard to distinguish limb from limb as the pair of them fought. They were fairly well matched it would seem, though before long Syrio had the upper hand and managed to pin Qarro to the mat they were fighting on.

"Wow," was all Arya could say.

"Okay, girl," Syrio told her as Qarro exited the gym without another word. "Let's begin."

---

 

That afternoon, Arya arrived home with aching muscles, and the beginnings of a large bruise forming on her stomach from a blow that Syrio had managed to catch her with. Sweat was plastering her hair against her forehead, but she felt really happy, though she was confused as to why her dad thought that she needed to learn to protect herself.

As she pushed through the front door, Sansa was waiting for her on the foot of the stairs, absently flicking through her phone. "Gods, Arya, where have you been?"

"Detention," Arya simply shrugged.

"What do they make you do in detention?" Sansa sounded appalled. Of course it wasn't a regular detention, but Sansa wouldn't know the difference, seeing as she had never gotten a single detention in her entire schooling life.

Arya just shrugged again. "Well, just go and get in the shower. I've got you an outfit picked out already, it's laying on your bed. And don't even think about changing anything in it," Sansa warned her.

Nodding, Arya trudged up the stairs, not wanting to argue with her sister, and feeling a bit exhausted.

She hopped in the shower, the warm water rushing away all the sweat that had accumulated, instantly making her feel better. She quickly washed her hair, before jumping out and going to examine just what Sansa thought was appropriate for her to wear that night.

On her bed she found a long sleeved navy blue crushed velvet top, with a scooped back, and a blue and yellow floral printed skirt. She looked the pieces over, and decided that they weren't too horrible, and certainly better than some of the things her mother had forced her to wear over the years. She pulled on the shirt, and was surprised at how the colour made her eyes seem to glow a shade of blue, rather than the slate grey they usually were; it made her face look softer. She tugged the skirt onto her waist, and zipped it up before delving into her drawers to find a pair of black tights to cover her pale legs, which were dotted with bruises. She grabbed a denim jacket from her wardrobe, and a pair of black ankle boots to finish the outfit. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she cuffed the sleeves of her jacket, as they fell a bit long on her short arms. She decided that she looked good, smiling at her reflection.

She walked into the hallway to find Sansa, to show her how her decisions looked. She gently knocked on her sister's door, her light voice calling, "Come in."

She pushed the door open, and was rewarded with Sansa smiling widely at her sister. "I knew that that would suit you," she told her. "I think it just needs one thing," she climbed from where she was reclining on her bed over to her vanity, opening her jewellery box, and fishing through the contents before she retrieved what she was looking for. Dangling in front of Arya's was a gold chain with a delicate pattern of leaves swaying in the centre.

"Turn around," Sansa instructed her, before clasping the necklace around her neck. "There you go," she said, looking her up from head to toe. "You look great Arya, but now for that hair."

Arya groaned, glancing at her watch, it was already after 5 o'clock, and she didn't want to be stuck with hot tongs in her hair until the minute she was leaving.

Sansa turned on her curling iron, and began to brush out Arya's slightly damp hair. She continued to create some soft curls in the hair, framing Arya's face, and making her look like someone other than her sister.

As the hair was finished, Arya made to move out of the chair, but Sansa made her stay and apply a light coverage of make up. "Sansa," Arya whined. "Will you quit it? I'm not going to meet the queen bloody regent. It's just an art exhibit."

"Arya, will you just stop moving your mouth for one minute," Sansa told her sister as she painted on a pretty pink layer of lipstick. "And we're done," Sansa had a triumphant grin on her face as she surveyed her handiwork.

Arya looked at herself in the mirror, she looked like an entirely different person. She looked pretty and feminine, with pink lipstick and blush and a light eye shadow. With the new clothes, and the curled hair, and the make up, Arya didn't feel at all like herself.

"Oh, gods," Arya cursed tilting her face to look at it from different angles, trying to find one where she still looked like herself.

Sansa's face fell, "You hate it."

Looking at her sisters crestfallen expression, "No, Sansa," she told her. "It's great. I just don't look like me."

"That's the beauty of it," Sansa told her. "You can be whomever you want to be." Her smile had returned as she continued to look at her younger sister. "So, are you excited?"

"Uh, do terrified and excited feel the same?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"You'll be fine, Arya," Sansa told her. "Just be yourself."

"Okay," Arya exhaled, calming herself and the butterflies flickering in the depths of her stomach.

Suddenly, her mind flicked back to Gendry and the previous night, how sweet he had been and the lightheaded, flipping stomach feeling he gave her; the electricity that passed between them when they touched. She felt her stomach tighten thinking about Gendry, and then felt guilty because she was going on a date with another man in less than half an hour, and Gendry was probably off somewhere with that black-haired girl from the weekend.

She pushed Gendry from her mind, determined to have a good time tonight, and not think about the way that he made her feel.

Together, Sansa and Arya trounced down the stairs, their shoes clicking in unison. They walked into the parlour where Ned and Catelyn were reading the newspaper and knitting what appeared to be a beanie. At the sound of the girls' entry, both of their parents looked up and both wore an equally startled expression as their gazes fell on their youngest daughter, who had never shown any interest in make up and dresses and hair curlers.

Deciding against commenting on it, Catelyn said, "Well, where are you girls off to tonight?" Her voice was tight as she watched Arya, likely still thinking of the night before.

"I'm taking Arya to that art exhibit I was telling you about," Sansa said smoothly, with a light smile. "They all say that the artist is the best new thing coming out of King's Landing, and probably all of the South."

Ned nodded, his fingers twining in his graying beard. "Well, don't be home too late girls."

Arya remained silent, simply nodding, knowing that she had to at least try to get home at a decent hour, but thanking the stars that her sister had included herself in the lie. With her parents believing she was with her older, responsible sibling, it would be far easier for her to get away with a late homecoming twice in a row.

It was right before six o'clock when the sisters left the confines of their home. The sun had started to set, and there were foreboding clouds hanging low in the sky, threatening rain. As they both walked down the length of the driveway, Arya turned to her sister, "So if you're not going to the exhibit tonight, where are you going?"

Sansa rolled her eyes, "To Joff's, you doofus."

Arya poked her tongue out at her sister, and did an eye roll of her own.

"Just remember to call me, like, half an hour before you plan on getting home," Sansa reminded her, "so we can synchronise." Arya nodded her consent. "Oh, and take some photos if you can. Mother will just love it."

"Yeah Sans, I got it. Photos, call you, all good."

"And have fun," Sansa reminded her as a bright orange car pulled up to the curb, its engine revving loudly.

The driver didn't emerge; there was simply a sharp honk on the horn to indicate that they had no intention of being patient.

"Wow," Arya almost laughed, "so his car's as obnoxious as he is. Quite a feat."

"Oh, shut up," Sansa said trying to sound stern, but she let out a small laugh despite herself.

"Hurry up Sansa!" called Joffrey's weedy voice from inside the car.

Arya rolled her eyes again, and simply waved to her sister, who wore a sheepish expression as the climbed into the low-lying car.

The car revved loudly to life once more, the engine growling as they took off at breakneck speed down the quiet suburban strip. Arya planted herself on the footpath, pulling her knees to her chest, feeling the cold wind cut through her clothes and mess up the work Sansa had put into her hair.

She was sat there when a much quieter car rolled up to the curb. The driver emerged from the front seat, his red hair gleaming under the street lamp, and the white streak almost blinding in the harsh fluorescent light.

"Good evening, lovely girl," his accented voice purred. He reached his hand out to her, and gently pulled her to her feet. "Wow," he breathed, as he looked her up and down, "you look fantastic."

Arya sucked in her breath at his comment, the feeling of butterflies dancing around in her stomach once more.

The drive to Rhaenys's Hill was winding, and their car found its way snaking through the most glamorous houses of Kings Landing, with sprawling gardens and marble exteriors. They drove past the high gates that lead into the Baratheon grounds, the mansion looming intimidatingly, its' dark red brick façade ominous.

Before long, Arya was hopping out of the car, her feet sinking into the lush grass of the parklands that was Rhaenys's Hill. It was a forest oasis locked in the middle of the booming metropolis of Kings Landing.

Jaqen met Arya at her side of the car, his hand sweeping into hers as he led the way for them.

Arya quickly stole glances at him, when she thought he was not looking. She noted a fading scar running through his left eyebrow; the way his eyes looked like he knew something you didn't; the razor sharp cheekbones; and the soft pout of his pink lips. Without looking at her, Jaqen responded to her gaze, "Yes, lovely girl. Is there something on my face?"

Arya reddened, embarrassed at being caught staring. She recovered quickly, and gently leaned up and brushed away an imaginary dusk speck.

He looked down at her, his eyes looking positively green in the dimming sunset, "Thank you," he purred.

Before Arya could respond, if she had even known a way to do so, they came to a halt in front of a little Italian bistro. Arya thought it looked like it had been taken directly out of a television show; it had the kitschy red and white table cloths, with a single flower in a tiny vase on each table, she could only see one waiter, but he had a thick black moustache and was wearing a baggy chef's hat.

"After you," Jaqen said holding the door ajar.

Arya scuttled inside, a nervous tension building in her stomach. The moustached man made his way over to them when he let out an exclamation in a language Arya could not decipher. He leant in and gave Jaqen a hug, slapping him on the back, like two old friends who haven't seen each other in a long time.

She stood awkwardly to the side, as the two of them caught up in a language that didn't match the Italian restaurant that they were in.

Before long, Jaqen looked her way, as if only just remembering her.

"Ah, Benny," Jaqen started, speaking in English once more, "forgive me, but this lovely girl is Arya Stark, and she does not speak Lorathi. I fear I am being rude." He looked at her as he finished speaking, his eyes a hopeful question Have I blown this?

Arya shot him a grin and shook her head. "Ah, Arya," Benny exclaimed in the same heavy accent as Jaqen, "what a beautiful name."

"Oh, thanks," Arya said, unsure of the footing in this sort of conversational territory.

They were quickly whisked away to their table, where Jaqen made short work of their orders, seeing as the menu was written entirely in Italian, and Jaqen was on a first name basis with the staff.

They were eating some bruschetta and talking amicably about any recent events in each other's lives.

By the time their mains came out Arya's mouth was watering; the entire bistro was filled with a delicious scent of tomatoes and garlic. Stopped in front of her was a plate of gnocchi with ricotta, smothered in butter and sage, and sitting in front of Jaqen was a plate of veal scallopini on a bed of green beans and mashed potatoes.

"So, lovely girl," Jaqen began, "you are not from here, your accent that is of the North. Where, pray tell, are you from?"

"Winterfell," Arya told him. "We came down to the capital to help a family friend." Family friend, Arya thought bitterly, as she thought of all the stress that had been put onto her father due to Robert Baratheon's blunders and obvious incompetence at running a multi billion dollar organisation. Though anyone who drinks that much on a daily basis would probably be unlikely to even tie their shoes in the morning.

"Ah, and how are you enjoying it in the South?"

Arya screwed up her nose, as she thought of just how much she had loathed the idea of King's Landing, with its aggressively vapid housewives, and the businessmen full of greed and money. But she had definitely softened up to the idea of some of the people of King's Landing, with Gendry, Hot Pie, Edric, and all the boys from the Seven, even Lommy was growing on her. She grinned, "I hated it, and everything in it and about it." She saw Jaqen's smile falter slightly, and she let out a small chuckle, "Though, I think it's growing on me."

Jaqen returned her smile, and began to pose another question to her, before Arya cut him off, "So, what about you?" she asked. "Obviously you aren't originally from King's Landing."

"Ah, and I thought my Southron accent was second to none!" he laughed, which earned a snort from Arya. "I am from a small island off the north coast of Essos, Lorath."

"Hmm, I've never heard of it, tell me about it."

A glazed, nostalgic look took over Jaqen's eyes as he described the pristine beaches, and the valley that he called home, with its calçada pathways and maueline architecture. He recalled many childhood days of racing his older brothers through thickets of trees, and amongst the gothic buildings that lined the shore off the eastern coast of the island.

Before long their meals were finished, and Jaqen took Arya's arm as they walked through the warm autumnal air up to a large, cavernous looking building with a domed roof, and gleaming bronze doors. Arya let out a breath as she looked at the imposing building, its black stone façade looked like it was glowing, and there were people milling around outside of the heavy looking doors. These people were dressed like they were attending the Academy Awards, with men in slim fitting black dinner suits, and women in gowns and elegant frocks. Arya looked down at her own outfit, and felt like a child who was simply playing dress up. Even Jaqen looked to fit in with this crowd, with his neatly pressed trousers, and white dress shirt, though his hair did make him stand out amongst this posh crowd. Arya tugged on the sleeves of her shirt, drawing them over her hands, a nervous thing she had done since she was a child; she caught herself, as her left hand was engulfed in the blue velvet, and cursed herself. Arya Stark, she scolded internally. You need to stop being such a baby. It's a bloody art exhibit, not the end of the world.

She unfurled the fabric from her fingers and swung her arms about her sides, as her and Jaqen made their way through the elegant looking crowd. Jaqen's fingers nudged her elbow, and he quietly asked, "Are you alright?"

She stiffened her expression; a steely look of determination crossing her features, and nodded tersely. Inside, they were ushered upstairs with another group of fancily dressed men and women, Arya squared her shoulders, determined to stay calm and collected. They came to an auditorium that was dimly lit, with waiters in black vests carrying out trays with champagne and assorted canapé's. There were large white columns that protruded from ground to ceiling, some housing large oil paintings, others displaying intricate looking sculptures.

Arya forgot all of her nervousness as she stumbled around the room, eyes wide as she took in all of the sights. There was a beautifully intricate sculpture of a young boy with soft curls and a braid through the top of his hair; his face was gaunt, and his features hard, a stark contrast to the softness of his hair, and the regal looking clothes he was sculpted in. In neat script above the boys head was the name Viserys.

There was soft music playing in the background, creating an ambience about the place. Jaqen watched Arya as she studied each piece, her grey eyes shining as she took in every detail. She was studying a piece that was a melting golden crow, with gold dripping down the edges of the pillar it was perched on, when a woman with flowing blonde hair approached her, and simply said, "A crown for a king."

Arya turned her face towards the woman, her grey eyes meeting a pair of glowing amethysts. Arya's steely expression did not stop this woman from continuing a conversation, "This building was constructed in my family's honour, you know."

Arya's ears perked up, "You're a Targaryen?" She glanced at the young woman once more, taking in her long blonde hair that was positively white in the dim lighting, and her bright purple eyes. "Daenerys," Arya concluded, she remember how Sansa had gaped over photographs of this woman whenever her photograph appeared in Vogue and on page six in the post. Daenerys had a slight frame, with her hair dipping down to her thighs, her bright eyes were lined with black eyeliner, and her lips were painted a deep, staggering red. She wore a low-cut pale blue dress that flowed to her ankles, and a heavy golden chain rested between her cleavage.

"Please, just Dany," she insisted, with a bright smile that reached her eyes. She reached her hand out to Arya, which she took sceptically, wondering why this glamorous woman was taking the time to talk to her. Arya looked over her shoulder and saw that Jaqen was talking with a tall, muscled man dressed in a grey suit with tattoos peaking from beneath his shirt collar.

"Arya," she introduced herself, "Stark."

"Ah, a Stark," Dany exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "I should've known," she looked her up and down before taking Arya's face in her hands. "You look just like the photos I've seen of your father."

Arya brazenly clutched Dany's own face in return, "You look just like the photos I've seen of you." Arya's chin was raised defiantly, as if waiting for her hands to be slapped away, or for the woman to yell for security. Instead, Dany burst out in laughter, letting go of Arya's face, "You know, Dany breathed between her laughter, "I like you Arya Stark. None of the pretentious sods here would ever dream of reacting back to me, but here you are," her smile crinkled her eyes, as she continued to giggle.

Arya stifled her own laughter, trying to remain cool and figure out what this girl was all about. As she was studying Dany, the man that Jaqen had been speaking with came up to them; this dark hair was tied in a long braid that jingled with a bell as he walked.

Jaqen came up behind Arya, gently resting a hand on her waist, hesitant in action. Arya shot him a quick grin as they made their introductions, the tall imposing man was introduced to her as Khal Drogo, or simply Drogo, and his English was stilted, though he and Dany appeared to speak to each other in a sort of guttural language that Arya could not decipher.

It was only after a few minutes of conversation that Jaqen brought up the artist, who happened to be the woman standing before them. Arya regarded her again, impressed.

"Come moon of my life," Drogo breathed to Dany, seeing a group of bedraggled looking men, with similar looking tattoos exposed by their rolled sleeves.

"Arya Stark," Dany nodded her head, and placed a business card into her hand, "valar morghulis."

Jaqen nudged Arya, "Valar dohaeris," he returned, leaving Arya with a puzzled look. As Dany walked away, her pale blue dress and white hair flowed behind her like a veil.

The pair of them made their way through the rest of the exhibit, there were flashes going off as professional looking photographers shot photos of all of the glitzy attendees. A photographer stopped in front of Arya and Jaqen, and wiggled her camera asking for a photograph. Arya was about to shake her head no, when Jaqen grabbed her about the waist, and bumped his hip into hers, a bright smile appearing on his face as he turned to the camera. Arya's closed mouthed smile felt forced, she had always hated photographs of herself.

Glancing at a clock perched on the wall, the time was approaching 9:30; Arya figures that she couldn't push her mother's limits too much further. She turned to Jaqen, "Hey, I think I'd better be getting home."

Jaqen's smile faltered slightly, before he straightened, "But of course, lovely girl."

As they walked back to Jaqen's car, Arya dialled Sansa's number, "Hello?" her sisters' voice sang through the phone.

"Hey Sans, I'm just about to head back now. It'll probably be about half an hour."

"Okey dokey," Sansa sounded chipper whatever time you spoke to her. "But when I see you, I want to hear all of the details."

Rolling her eyes, and sighing, Arya simply relented with a "Fine," before hanging up.

As Jaqen drove Arya home, the conversation was sparse, leaving Arya with an uncomfortable feeling, wondering if she should say something to break the silence. Soon, they were pulling up to the curb by Arya's front gate.

She breathed in deeply, "Well thank you for such a nice night."

"Ah, sweet girl," Jaqen purred, "it was my pleasure."

Arya smiled despite herself, she unclipped her seat belt, and was about to step from the car when Jaqen reached a hand to her arm, stopping her. He leaned over, his lips brushing delicately—tentatively—against her cheek. She felt her heart flutter as his hand reached to her neck, and he slowly moved his mouth to hers, his lips gently brushing hers, their hot breaths entangled.

He pulled back, looking deeply into her eyes, before there were headlights shining brightly through the rear window. Breathlessly, Arya bade him farewell, "I'd better get going."

Jaqen had a feline-like smile on his face, "Until next time."

Arya stepped from the car the same time as her sister. Taking in Arya's flushed complexion, Sansa noted with a sly grin, "So, you've had a good night then."

"Shut up," Arya retorted, gently shoving her sister's shoulder as the two of them hiked up to the house.

---

 

The next morning, Arya awoke to Sansa stomping into her room, clutching her iphone like it was an endangered species. "Are you serious?" she asked as Arya rolled over in her bed to squint at her sister.

"What are you doing?" Arya moaned sleepily, reaching for a pillow to push over her face.

Before she got the chance, Sansa grabbed the pillow from her hands and tossed it onto the floor. "You forgot to tell me something about last night," Sansa shook her phone in front of Arya's half-closed eyes.

Lazily, she took the thing from her sister, and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes before they settled on the image on the phone. It showed a photograph from last night with Jaqen, Drogo, Dany and Arya all engaged in what appeared to be an hysterical conversation. Arya's eyes looked like they were about to spill over with jubilant tears.

"I can't believe you met Daenerys Targaryen," Sansa nearly squealed, causing Arya to cover her ears. "And I can't believe that you didn't even tell me about it," her tone changed as her stare darkened at her sister.

"You're the one who told me to go to the bloody exhibit," Arya retorted. "I would expect for you to know whose art was actually going to be showing."

"I only heard about it through Joffrey's uncle Tyrion!" Sansa complained with a pained look on her face. "If I had known that she was going to be there, there's no way that I would have told you to go!"

"Gee, thanks Sans," Arya rolled her eyes, and rolled her body over so she was facing the window that was streaming in sunlight.

"Oh, shut up," Sansa said, shoving her sister's shoulder gently. "You know what I mean. And I've loved her for ages, it's just not fair."

"I'm sure you'll live through this torturous time in your life," Arya shrugged turning back to face her sister. "And besides, the show is on for it's last viewing next week. So, relax sister."

Sansa collected herself from Arya's bed and turned to walk out of her room, her auburn hair swinging like a curtain behind her. Just as she was in the doorjamb, she turned and said, "Oh, and Arya," a low groan was the only response she got. "You do know that it is Wednesday morning, and Dad's put your scooter in to the shop for a quick tune up."

Arya bolted up right as she remembered the day of the week.

"Car's leaving in 10," Sansa called over her shoulder with a light laugh.

"Shit," Arya cursed as she threw on her school uniform, her white shirt crumpled from where she had thrown it, instead of hanging it in her cupboard like she should have. She ran down the stairs with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. Still brushing, she pushed some bread into the toaster, before rinsing her mouth out directly under the faucet.

The toast dinged as she heard Sansa calling her name. She bolted to the front door, looking frazzled, as her sister laughed.

"Come on, silly," Sansa beckoned her. "It's still early. Let's go get some coffee."

Chapter Text

“So, come on,” Sansa insisted, as they were stopped in the heavy morning traffic, “tell me about Jaqen.”

“What’s there to tell?” Arya shrugged. She’d had a nice night, she met some nice people, she went home. Arya couldn’t see why Sansa was making as much of a fuss over it as she was.

“What’s there to tell?” Sansa repeated. “Well, maybe the fact that I saw you and Jaqen kissing as I got home!”

“Seven hells Sansa,” Arya all but growled. “I had a good night; I kissed a boy; I met some nice people. Stop screaming at me!”

Sansa harrumphed, her eyes trained on the unmoving traffic in front of her. Arya slouched against the car door, gazing into the empty backseat of the car beside them. Sansa always makes everything so dramatic, Arya thought darkly. Can’t I have just had a good night without getting the third degree?

“I just thought that maybe you’d want to talk about it, about what happened,” Sansa said in a small voice. “The first date I ever went on, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. You were always off playing with Jon and Robb, and I wasn’t very well going to talk with mother about it.”

Arya laughed lightly, “Can you imagine her reaction? You were out with a boy!” Arya shrieked in her best impression of their mother. “You’re only… wait, how old were you?”

“Thirteen,” Sansa supplied.

“You’re only thirteen years old, far too young!” Arya continued. “That’s no way for a lady of your calibre to act!” They both laughed, long and hard, over the matter.

By the time Sansas’ car pulled into a parking space, the dark mood had somewhat abated. Arya glanced at her watch, which read only 7:30. She rubbed her eyes as she pushed open the door, and was hit by an arctic gust of wind.

“Sansa,” Arya said quietly, as they began to walk towards the café, “have I done something to upset you?”

Sansa had a quizzical expression on her face as she shook her head, no.

“Okay, I just wanted to check,” Arya began, “because its 7 o’clock in the morning, and you and I are trekking to get coffee. I bet this is for that photo with the Targaryen, but like I told you, I didn’t know she was the artist, or even why she wanted to talk to me.”

“Arya, I’m not upset with you,” Sansa said with finality. “But I do expect an actual in-depth discussion as to the events of last night, and you can’t leave out any details, because I can, and will, find out.”

Arya stopped as she watched her sister push through the door to that familiar café. Maybe the internet has become too powerful a thing, Arya thought, as she followed her sister into the store, glad to be out of the wind, her school uniform did not provide the kind of wind resistance necessary for the gale blowing outside.

Gendry was stood behind the counter, his stubble growing into almost a scruffy beard. He looked bedraggled, with a crumpled white t-shirt, and his hair looked to be untameable.

“Hello ladies,” he greeted them with a yawn.

Arya scowled at him, while Sansa politely smiled. They sat at a table right by the counter, and Sansa pulled her tablet from her bookbag, and began to scroll through her news feed.

“You look like the dog’s breakfast,” Arya informed Gendry, as he watched the pair, his hands supporting his stubbly chin as he rested on the countertop.

“Ah, milady is too kind,” Gendry said, with a mock-bow. “And she looks rather exquisite herself.” He looked her up and down, taking in her school uniform, the seersucker skirt, and bright blue school jumper.

“Oh shut up,” Arya scrunched her nose at him, as he resumed his position of holding the counter stable. “And can we please get some coffee on this brisk morning?”

“Brisk?” he repeated. “I thought you Northerners could handle a little autumn breeze. What was it that you told me?” He tapped his chin with his forefinger. “Ah, yes, ‘King’s Landing doesn’t get cold. It’s nothing compared to Winterfell.’”

Arya’s arms crossed over her chest, as she stuck her tongue out at Gendry who had a triumphant grin on his face.

Sansa interrupted their banter, as she squealed and shook her tablet in the air. Her finger tapped onto a photograph. Arya craned her neck to see herself with a wry-looking grin on her face, and Jaqen with a broad white smile, his arm wrapped around her waist. There were maybe a half-dozen photographs of couples, with the impressive bronze doors of the Dragonpit in the background of nearly all of the photos. But on the next page there was a blown up photograph of Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo, both looking luminous, as they stared not into the camera, but at each other.

“Okay,” Sansa said, her voice in a higher pitch than usual. “Tell me all about it. How on earth did you get to meet Daenerys Targaryen?”

“Well, she sort of approached me,” Arya started.

“Shut up. She did not.”

“She did,” Arya confirmed. “I was looking at a piece, and she came up and just said the title, I didn’t know who she was, I didn’t even really understand what she was saying at first.”

Sansa just watched her with wide eyes, experiencing this all vicariously, as that was as good as it was going to get.

Arya continued her story, as Gendry placed the coffees on the table, and pulled up a chair to join them at the table, seeing as the café was all but empty.

“Oh, and I know you’re going to flip if I don’t tell you this,” Arya braced herself, “but she gave me her business card, and then said something in a language I think might have been Valyrian, but her and Drogo were speaking in a different language, that was definitely not Valyrian or the Common Tongue, so I don’t know.”

“Dothraki,” Sansa confirmed with a nod.

“How do you know?”

“Duh, I’ve read pretty much everything there is to know about Daenerys, so her boyfriend’s heritage is not that uncommon a thing to come across,” she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, enjoying knowing something that no one else did. “Did you see this Gendry?” Sansa asked moving the screen to sit in front of him.

Arya held her breath, she hadn’t wanted Gendry to see that photo of her. She was still thinking about that night on the beach, and how sweet he had been, but whenever she thought about that she thought about the girl with the black hair, with her mouth on Gendry’s from the night at the club. Her stomach was twisting into knots, as she watched his face take in her photograph.

“Ah,” he nodded, “and I thought you looked exquisite this morning. I should have seen you last night.” His eyes met hers for a second before he looked away, back down at the screen.

She wanted to kick Sansa, hard.

Sansa let out a little squeal, unaware of Arya’s current unease. “Oh, I have to call Jeyne, she will just die once she sees you’re on the actual news, I just know it.” She collected herself from the table and strode to the back of the store like she was on a mission.

“So,” Gendry started in a quiet voice, “I’ve seen that guy before.”

“Yeah, he works a couple of blocks away at that French restaurant. I think he’s been here a few times before.”

A silence stretched between them, leaving Arya feeling apprehensive. The silence was broken by a loud crack of thunder, which was quickly followed by an onslaught on rain that hammered against the windowpanes.

Arya was still thinking about Gendry and his pretty girl, her stomach still assaulting her insides, when she thought, To hells with it.

“Gendry, why do you keep being…” she paused to find the right words, “so sweet to me? And then mean?” The words weren’t right; they felt wrong. She wanted to tell him how whenever she thought of him her stomach did somersaults, and that that night on the beach just star-gazing with him was perfect. But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t just come out and say, ‘Hey Gendry, I really like you.’ What if it all fell apart? And the black-haired girl kept popping into her mind; she couldn’t shake the image of him and her necking in that dark room.

Gendry watched her with a careful eye, waiting for her to elaborate.

“It’s like one minute we’re great, we laugh, we’re having fun, and the next, I’m some annoying kid who won’t leave you along.”

“I don’t think of you like that,” Gendry said quietly, averting his gaze from her. He watched the table, as if willing it to do something.

“Well, I don’t know how you think of me, because you’re so hot and cold,” Arya glanced back at her sister, to see that she was still in an animated phone conversation with Jeyne Poole, completely oblivious to the awkward encounter Arya had put herself in.

Gendry lifted his eyes to meet hers, and he grabbed one of her hands. “I don’t think of you like that,” he repeated, his warm gaze boring a hole through her. He reached a hand up and cupped her cheek; rough calluses lightly scratching her jaw. “I think you’re pretty great, even if you can be unpleasant, and petulant, and moody,” he grinned as he said this, his dimple flashing on his cheek.

He moved towards her, and with the rain beating she almost forgot. Forgot about where she was, and why she was having this conversation, and about the night before with Jaqen, and about Gendry’s girl.

She put a hand on his chest to stop him, just before she lost her willpower. Gendry had a crestfallen expression on his face as he sat back in his seat.

“Gendry, I can’t,” Arya started quietly.

“Is it because of him?” he asked nodding towards the tablet.

“No, it’s not him,” she thought about this as she said it. She didn’t know what she really felt; she hadn’t had much time to process the whole series of events. Gendry’s look darkened, and he cast his eyes back down to the table where they remained. “It’s just, the other night, when we were at your show,” she paused wondering how to phrase what she had to say next. “After the show, I saw you, and you were with this girl…” she trailed off hoping to not have to explain the rest of the situation.

Gendry thought for a moment, his eyes moving from the table to the ceiling. “Oh, you must mean Bella,” he said, meeting her gaze at last.

Arya frowned at him; she hadn’t been expecting the conversation to go like this.

“Bella is just one of those girls that hangs around with bands because she wants to get with a musician,” he explained.

“So, she’s not, like, your girlfriend?” Arya asked, her stomach clenching tightly.

“No,” he said with a serious look on his face.

Arya felt a sort buzzing in her chest, as she watched his face, he looked stern, she wanted to grab him by his shirt, and kiss him feverishly, but she couldn’t with Sansa standing just feet away.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to say. Gendry’s eyes were carefully studying her face, she watched as his expression changed from stern to thoughtful, and as his brow furrowed, she felt a grin begin to grow on her face.

Gendry also smiled as he watched her, the fluorescent lights reflecting in his blue eyes. Arya lay both of her hands upon his shoulders, “I’ve thought since that night that this Bella was your girlfriend,” she let out a small self-deprecating laugh.

“Nope, I’m all by myself,” he said quietly. “No one will have me.”

Gendry moved so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes, and he opened his mouth about to speak when the bell above the door rang loudly interrupting the unspoken conversation that the two of them were having.

Arya shook herself; this was not what she had expected from this mornings coffee trip. Gendry walked behind the counter to grab his ordering pad before greeting the couple that had just entered.

Sansa had finished her phone call, and made her way back to the table.

“You should have heard Jeyne,” Sansa squealed as she tucked her chair back in, placing her phone into her skirt pocket. “She was near speechless when I told her.”

Arya nodded, taking a long sip of her coffee, her eyes fixed on Gendry as he worked the espresso machine.

“So,” Sansa drew the word out, “are you going to make me wait, or am I just going to have to beg you for all of the details of your date?”

The way Sansa sing-songed the word ‘date’ caused Arya to look at her sister sharply. She was still processing this new Gendry information, and what it meant, and what it affected. Now Gendry wasn’t some abstract idea of a person, he was real, and he was certainly real complicated.

“Well, sorry Miss Touchy,” Sansa said in mock-indignation. “I have offended your sensibilities with my trivial chatter at this atrocious hour.”

“Why, yes, you have sweet sister,” Arya said, softening. “But just this once I’ll let it slide.”

The café continued to fill up with men and women in business suits ducking in for a morning coffee, and a reprieve from the rain. Arya consistently looked up to the counter, watching Gendry as he worked diligently, while Sansa maintained a conversation, filling in when Arya lagged as her focus drifted away.

“In that bag of yours, you wouldn’t happen to have an umbrella?” Sansa asked sweetly.

“In what world would I have had enough time to collect an umbrella this morning, Sans?” Arya asked. Seeing Sansa’s sheepish grin, she added, “You rushed me out of the house so quickly, I thought there might be a fire, not the exact opposite.”

After draining her coffee, Sansa said, “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to race to the car then.”

Arya finished what was left of her quickly cooling coffee, placed a high pile of small coins on the table, picked up her knapsack, calmly slinging it over her shoulder before half-shouting at her sister, “Loser is an egg!”

Gendry looked up, as Arya and Sansa flew out of the store, Arya flashing him a grin before throwing the door harshly open, and running into the rainstorm.

The rain was really coming down, as the sisters ran at full pace beside one another. They dodged the umbrellas of the people brave enough to weather the downpour, with Arya coming to a stop under a storefronts scalloped awning by the car. The rain coming in at an angle, so that even underneath the cover, she was getting sprayed. Sansa struggled to find her keys in her bookbag, before finally unlocking the car, and both climbing in simultaneously.

“How’d you like me now, egg?” Arya smiled to her sister, as she shook her head, droplets flying and running down the window alongside the rain outside.

“Who’re you calling egg, egg?” Sansa asked. “The deal was, first to the car, and I don’t know about you, but we both got in at the same time.”

“Oh, come off it.”

“The way I see it, is that you took a brief rest beneath that shelter there, and we both got to the car at the same time. If not me a little bit quicker.”

“You truly are a scoundrel,” Arya said, still smiling. “Must be nice to be able to make up rules as you go along.”

In retaliation, Sansa collected the lengths of her hair, and squeezed the water onto Arya’s lap.

Arya simply narrowed her eyes at her sister, as the car roared to life, and the air-conditioner blasted out hot air, warming their rain soaked bones.

By the time they pulled into the Red Keep, the car park was near full, with students bustling along underneath large umbrellas. The rain had slowed down a bit to more of a drizzle than an onslaught, but without an umbrella, and with already sodden clothes, it didn’t much matter by then.

Sansa tied her long hair into a bun on top of her head, keeping the wet strands out of her face as she dashed over to Joffrey who stood in conversation with a group of boys from the basketball team who dwarfed him by comparison. Sansa tossed a quick, “See you later,” over her shoulder as she walked away from her sister.

Arya shook her head as she watched her sister. For such a smart girl, she sure wasn’t clever.

She lowered her head, and gripped the straps of her knapsack as she began to hike up the path to the imposing red building.

---

As the bell rang signalling lunchtime, the rain had still not stopped, forcing everyone to eat inside the crowded refectory. Arya had been thinking all day about her conversation with Gendry. She couldn’t help but smile as she thought about him, and his gruff manner, and scruffy charm.

She thought about her birthday when he and Hot Pie had taken her out, and how stupid she had been letting some girl she didn’t know ruin her night, and then being too scared to ask about it, or do anything. She sat at a table with Hot Pie, who was deep in conversation with Lommy and Ned Dayne.

She watched Ned, his dark blue eyes, alight with laughter at Hot Pies antics. She thought about her birthday night again, and how she had asked Ned if Gendry had a girlfriend, Arya thought he hadn’t denied the fact, which was essentially agreed with its truth, at least in her eyes.

She narrowed he eyes, as she watched him, wondering why he hadn’t just told her. He seemed to notice her stare, as he turned to her and gave her a grin.

The corners of her mouth flicked upwards, but she was still studying him, wondering. She reached over and nicked the chocolate chip biscuit that sat in front of Hit Pie, opening the individual plastic wrap, she quickly took an enormous bite, breaking off about half.

“Hey!” Hot Pie exclaimed as he watched her in horror.

“You snooze, you lose,” Arya said, as he took the crumbling remnants from her hand.

He grumbled at her, but she saw the edges of a smile creep onto his face.

“Alright, I’ve got to get going, I’ve got a test in Valyrian for my last class that I am outrageously unprepared for, and none of you can help me, because I have just witnessed your inane conversation for the past 15 minutes.”

She left with a laugh, as the boys all threw their hands to their chests, mock-outraged with their best Southern Belle accents.

Arya found her way to the library, where she proceeded to go through her notes, flipping open her textbook. There was a section at the back that she hadn’t gotten to yet, titled Braavosi (Low/Bastard Valyrian), though High Valyrian was spoken through the Free Cities of Essos, Braavos had kept its independence, and its own language, though its roots were in the same as the Old Valyrian of the others. There were many similar words, Arya could plainly see, but as she flicked through the short chapter she noticed a phrase.

“Valar morghulis,” she mumbled, reading the words, sounding them out phonetically, matching them with her previous night. “All men must die.”

She shuddered at the translation. “Valar dohaeris,” she continued, “all men must serve.”

Arya sat wondering about the strange interaction, reading that it was a common greeting in the Free Cities, she wondered why she hadn’t learned that in any of her classes yet.

Before she had even had a chance to really sink her teeth into her possessive plurals or demonstrative adjectives the bell marking the end of break rang loudly. She sighed deeply, collecting her notebooks with the sinking feeling in her stomach of being woefully underprepared.

---

The test had been even harder than she had expected, she’d tried her best, but the sections on relative clause verbs and complex compound sentences had her head reeling. She had ended up doodling pictures of wolves in the borders, as she racked her brain for any information she may have overheard that had unknowingly sunk in.

She made her way to the smaller gymnasium, known as the Small Hall, glad to be able to work out her frustration with Syrio Forel at her afternoon dancing lessons.

Syrio was waiting for her as she ran in after changing with her socks slipping down her shins.

“You are late, girl,” was all he said by way of greeting.

Arya huffed, disgruntled, “I haven’t had a good day Syrio, so I would not suggest making me more annoyed than I already am.”

He looked her up and down, “You must learn to clear your head before entering this space, girl. Today we shall not dance.”

Arya opened her mouth in protest, but was silence by Syrio as he slapped a wooden stick hard against the hardwood floor, the cracking sound reverberating through the high ceilings.

“There is a cat that is always hanging around, we have named him Balerion, but Qarro has decided that The Black Dread is more appropriate. He has a torn ear, and enjoys chasing birds, he is older than sin, and twice as mean.”

“Okay,” Arya said, wondering why this cat had anything to do with her, and her lessons.

“You will find this cat, and bring him to me.”

Arya scoffed, thinking this a waste of her time. Cats were easy, they’d fall for a scratch between the ears and a belly rub, “Not a problem.”

She left the Small Hall, and found that it was still raining outside. The first logical place for her to go was to the kitchens by the refectory, as all the birds outside were sheltered from the rain.

Stalking through the near empty halls, Arya eventually rounded a corner after hearing a meow. There, on top of a row of lockers, sat a big black cat, with a slender build. His left ear was torn, so Arya knew this was the cat she was looking for. She approached slowly, making a soft clicking sound with her tongue and teeth, gaining the cats attention.

The cat watched her with his golden eyes, looking impassive. This is going to be even easier than I thought, Arya thought to herself smugly, as she reached a hand out to the cat.

The cat arched its back, hissing at her, swiping at her outstretched hand, before jumping and running down the corridor quick as a bolt.

The scratch drew blood, and stung. She cursed and chased after the ugly old feline. But as she rounded the corner, she ran into Myrcella Baratheon, knocking the books she was carrying to the ground.

Balerions’ tail slunk around the corner and out of sight, as she collected herself.

“Dammit,” she cursed to herself quietly, helping collect the books of the young blonde girl in front of her.

“Hey Arya,” Myrcella smiled at her, ignoring her cussing.

“Hi Myrcella,” Arya said dully. She had met the girl briefly, due to Sansa’s infatuation with her worm of a brother.

“Oh my gods,” she squealed, grabbing hold of Aryas’ wrist, and flipping it over inspecting the wound. “Are you alright? You look absolutely ragged.”

“It’s nothing it’s just a scratch. Listen I’ve got to go,” she quickly ducked out of the conversation and went in the same direction the cat had fled to.

She was walking for another fifteen minutes before she saw the damn thing, perched on a windowsill, licking its paws.

She was quiet as shadow, and light as a feather as she stalked the hall, when she was less than a metre away, the cats ears flicked backwards, and she wasted no time, leaping trying to get hold of the bloody thing. Her knee scraped hard against the red brick wall, leaving a long bloody graze down her shin. The cat managed to claw her along her other arm before getting away again.

She scoured the halls for another twenty minutes without seeing hide nor hair of the beast, before she decided to return to the hall, feeling shame at not being able to catch a simple cat.

Syrio inspected her wounds before tutting, and saying, “So slow? Be quicker, girl. Your enemies will give you more than scratches.”

Arya wasn’t sure what enemies he was speaking of, but she understood that she wasn’t up to scratch. She was dismissed for the day, she took a handful of band-aids, and began applying them liberally to her nicks and scratches.

The graze on her knee was the only thing that really bothered her, it stung whenever she bent her knee to walk, but it wasn’t too sharp a pain.

She stepped out of the red keep into the dark afternoon, where the rain had finally come to a stop, only to be replaced by a harsh wind that chilled her, dressed as she was in shorts and a t-shirt.

When she finally got home, after catching an overcrowded bus, and walking three blocks in the quickly encroaching evening, she collapsed onto the couch in the empty living room with a deep sigh.

She had a lot to think about, not to mention a lot to study, that wasn’t the last High Valyrian test she was unprepared for, as well as her history class, which she had sort of let fall by the wayside. There was just something incredibly dull about the ancient Great Houses, and the Human Rights Revolution was great, but it’s just so tedious to learn about transnational activism and its effects on foreign policy and international law.

“What happened to you?” Sansa asked as she walked in and sat beside her sister, looking at the haphazardly placed plasters that adorned her arms and legs.

“Bastard bloody cat,” Arya said simply. The actual explanation sounded ludicrous, so this was going to be as good an explanation as she could give currently.

“Well, let’s clean them properly, before you get cat scratch fever.”

She led Arya into the kitchen, Arya was still deep in thought as she watched Sansa’s hair which had curled slightly from being wet, and left in a bun all day.

Leaning on the kitchen counter was a figure with long curling dark hair, dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a black t-shirt. Grey eyes flashed as Arya met the gaze of her brother Jon.

“Jon!” she screamed, running and jumping on him.

“Whoa, Little Wolf,” Jon exclaimed catching her with ease, “none of us are as small as we once were.”

She slapped his chest, before telling him to “Shut up.” She gripped him tightly, it had been a long time since she had seen her brother, and she had missed him more than words could say.

“Oh, before I forget,” he said, dropping her back to the floor, “I have something for you.”

“A present?” Arya asked with a sly grin.

Jon presented her with a long thin box, it looked like the king flowers got delivered in, Arya scrunched her nose at the thought, thinking Jon couldn’t possibly be so stupid.

She unwound the twine that held the two halved together with a bow, and saw that inside was a small, slender blade with a leather bound hilt and a conical pommel, it was an elegant little sword, Arya picked it up in wonder, passing it from hand to hand as she watched the light glint off of the blade.

“It’s from Braavos,” Jon informed her as he watched her, “they fight with these blades upon the Moon Pool by the Sealord’s Palace.”

“It’s beautiful,” Arya said, still watching as the blade reflected the light.

“Okay, but it’s not a toy. Be careful you don’t cut yourself. And don’t let your mother catch you with it, or it’ll be both our heads.”

“I’ve missed you,” she said to Jon, almost jumping to hug him again, before remembering she was still holding the sword. She placed it down on the table, and gripped him about the waist in another fierce embrace.

“And I’ve missed you Little Wolf.”