all men must die;

But we are not men. Arya Stark of Winterfell

[thefunke-chicken]

A long smile of sheepishness broke out onto his lips following his lady's remark. "I am not completely mindless the way you are. I can stay out of trouble- it is my favourite thing to do!" quipped the bull.

He tucked the metal skull under his arm once more and rolled his eyes quietly. "But you are my lady, my lady." muttered he.

"I will hide the fire and find an inn that might take me for the night. And you should be gone from 'ere long before then"

Gendry wiped his mouth and stifled the smile. The corner of his cheek moved lightly as he shuffled his footing to be looking down at Arya.

A noise sounded from the hall beyond the stone doors, but it's likeness did not register more than to wipe the grin from his mouth. The bastard looked to the girl.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

Arya would go to yell at him again, should she have had the time to do so. As always, Gendry seemed more intent on being an ox to which she wanted to drive her head into his stubborn own, and it infuriated her. Could he not just refer to her by her name like everyone else? 'But you are a lady,' her mind reminded her, much to her chagrin. By all rights, Gendry had no right to be in the room with her – let alone be permitted to talk or touched. That angered her much more than her title. It was strange how a blacksmith could be more of a gentlemen than a lord.

Yet it would be the shuffling outside of the room that would draw her attention, and her eyes snapped to the door to gauge their shadows. Who could it be coming down this side of the Red Keep? This was the place she used to chase cats – down near the skulls of the Targaryen dragons. Their dark and moldy confines kept most at bay; only the stupid, the 'brave' and the cunning drew near. As she looked back to Gendry, he just stood there like a dumb bull. This would cause her to place her hands to his chest once more and push hard, not caring if she knocked him over.

“Get back into the dark, you idiot! What if they see you!?” Her voice was hissed between clenched teeth as she tired to direct him to the edge of the room. The fire's shadows were erratic – casting light all around the room at odd angles. She just had to try and find a place where he would be the most protected. Even with some knowledge of Gendry's existence, she knew what her family would say. That, plus the news that would float about in rumours and whispers would be enough to make her go nuts.

Arya with a blacksmith? What is her family doing! She is far too young; he could take advantage of her! How horrible!

As soon as the girl was sure Gendry was as hidden, she turned and sprinted silently over to the door, picking up Needle along the way. How good she had become at her lessons that she could be like a cat – silent and quick – and she pressed her body to the edge of the door to listen in. For all she knew, the noise could be a cat. Or it could be a Lannister.

[thefunke-chicken]

"The Wall will be tomorrow where it is this day." Gendry concluded, gnawing on the fleshy inside of his cheek. He would have her ask for him, and were it not a he should like, he would leave as easily. Were he to be found and thought worth executing, he might be sent for punishment to the Black Brotherhood another age from then- but as far as he was concerned the Baratheon House had not claim to the throne any longer, and as they had little, he had less. A nightmare would be to own expectation of any kind towards such a trade as leading.

His thoughts were interrupted as the cloth bundle slipped under his arm. The smooth scull shaped helmet was a pride of his, never for sale, and for a moment his heart fell, following his hands which gripped the iron horns.

Gendry smiled sheepishly and inspected the shining black metal as he held it higher. The argument had run dry, as today he had woken particularly fond of his day's plans. "Arya, take me where you might want, but I still might choose fit ta' leave. I hope you 'ill not protest so much."

"It is not my intention to cause any grief to you, m'lady." added he. His fingers grew damp with sweat, leaving a smudge on the armour.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

“Do not call me m'lady!” The exasperated snap left Arya's lips like it did a thousand times before – an irritable plea to a lad who would not relinquish the title, even when she had all but demanded her speak to her otherwise. Arya hated when Gendry referred to her by that name. She may be a lady by her birthright, but by no means did that dictate she was to be a lady in practice. A lady was Sansa – beautiful, poised, delicate Sansa – not Arya Horseface with her “needles” and her “dancing lessons”. “The only grief you case me is when I feel like I have to slap you for being so stupid!”

With Gendry being so close, this allowed Arya's index finger to drive quite brutally into his chest, showing her physical displeasure at his “manners”. She appreciated more than anything else that she had one person that she could confide in and treated her... well, like Arya, but Gendry had this way of driving himself under her skin and driving her crazy. She wanted him by her side – she'd like to show him Winterfell and the wonders of the north – but at the same time she wanted him as far away as she could get him. For her safety and his; she knew her lady mother of all people would likely disapprove of her friendship to a low-born, especially at such a 'delicate' time.

“You still have that?” Her grey eyes moved to the helmet as she stepped away, keeping a relativity short space between them, though not so close that it was to be awkward. Crossing her arms over her chest, the girl had all but abandoned her training at this point. She knew how attached Gendry was to that piece of metal and steel. 'He crafted it himself, remember,' she told herself. 'It's like what Needle is.'

If he was to give a response, it would initially be cut off with Arya's train of thought. “If you come with me, stay out of trouble. The last thing my lady mother wants to hear is that I managed to smuggle and unruly blacksmith with me. She's...” she hesitated, a frown touching her face. “Meddling in things she shouldn't. Marriage and the like.”

[thefunke-chicken]

"All titles there are gone in change for an oath. They could use me more than- than Winterfell." answered Gendry. His lips grew taught around the words. 

"Besides, my name lends 'nough power to have me sought for an' killed, and yet not to lend me any land of my own. It is no use to me Arya." he persisted. The fire flickered, shadowing ominously under his eyes. Standing, the bastard stepped around the shorter girl. His lady's feet were nimble, making his now beside them look powerful and as unmoving as stone. 

The still stance he took wavered as Gendry's hands clutched to the bundle of burlap to his chest. "When are you off?"

[the-starkbitch-blog]

Arya still stood tall and proud against his words – a violent little wolf who did not waver to words of men. Yet his still hurt, and the outright denial to her offer cut far deeper than she dare admit. No where was safe for Gendy; though the wall was likely the safest of them all.

“You're Gendry Waters,” She answered, the name that would have once been said to hurt him now used to give him an air of protection. “That's all anyone needs to know.” Her jaw began to ache from how tightly she clenched it, and her short nails still dug far enough into her calloused hands to cause some pain. How the septon cursed her for that - “A lady does not have hands like... like a blacksmith!” She couldn't help but smile at her words, causing the old woman to yell even louder. Gendry's hands were worse than hers. Yet she hated having dainty hands. They reminded her of the times before her father died where she was innocent, stupid and young. Who cares what a lord thought if the skin was tough? Would it be better to see that a lady could do more than scream at a horde or bat her eyelashes for protection? “You make it sound like I wouldn't be able to help you in Winterfell. No one there would want to lay a hand on you. You're my friend.”

However the change in topic, though small, provided the girl with a relaxation from her anger. While it was still apparent, Arya's gaze followed the bull-headed blacksmith as he stepped around her. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “Whenever my mother's convoy arrives, I should think. I've been permitted to stay and arrange whatever affairs I have before my trip.”

Like I need permission to do anything, the girl thought wryly. Still, she knew her actions reflected on her family and they were still in dangerous waters. If her father was any indication, it was best to keep such affairs to oneself. She supposed the friendship with a low-born was well into that as well. Still, her focus would be directed away from his face and down to her eye level, where she spotted the bundle of cloth in his hands. “What's in that?” she demanded.

It would be a far cry to think that this girl would ever be the epitome of poise and grace like her sister. In public, she was awkward. In private, she was crude.

[thefunke-chicken]

Gendry turned his chin in her direction, the skin of his face a shade of brilliant orange, blooming from the flames as hot as melted iron. His surprise showed in the down turned curves of his cheeks, the pale pallor of his orange face and by the way the blacksmith's apprentice pulled forwards his shoulders. Any other person would lay lightly on the words exchanged after admitting that the other would be thought a raper, but alas, his lady had manners less than he, it seemed to him.

"It is not my place to have you finding my work for me, my lady." he replied shortly. His voice sounded cross, and even worse to him was how small the reasons he had to reject her offer were. It was, would be, good honest work. He would watch for his lady, as she got herself into and out of trouble, and he would be far from speculation. That much he hoped for.

"-and why should I not continue to Castle Black? That is where I was headed, and you were as well a time 'afore many of this happened." he wondered, brushing his thumb over the small burns scattered across his knuckle. There were endless opportunities for him, and endless more, should he never hope to bring himself a name titled with honour. "You have a brother black, you said once-" Gendry said again.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

'Why shouldn't he go up to the wall?' Arya couldn't think of an excuse that didn't sound like something that came out of Sansa's mouth. Something stupid like “I'd miss you” or “The wall isn't safe”, both of which she'd never admit less she wanted to look... like a little girl. She wasn't going to be weak like every high born lady seemed to be in Westeros, and Gendry was the last person that should have such a sway over her. Yet he did; and it was in a strange kind of sway she couldn't describe. It made her angry – his retorts from her brewing a violent kind of energy that was unique to her – and his responses only furthering her irritation. Her hands balled into fists at her side as she responded.

“Because you got sold to the watch! Last I checked, men don't go to the place they were bought from,” she hissed, that reply the best she could conjure without having to admit there was any feeling behind it. She looked to Needle sitting idly against the wall, remembering it as a gift by her own bastard brother. Why was it, she would think, that all the bastards she knew she seemed to care for and worry about the most, and yet they were the ones that were so stupid, so bull-headed and so, so... infuriating?

“Fine, I won't help you. You can go up to the Wall and die there or stay in King's Landing and have the Targaryens and the Lannisters after you. See if I care!” Oh the words she spoke and how she seemed to regret every one after the time. But right now she was too angry at his outright denial to her suggestions. He could get killed then – see if she cared!

[thefunke-chicken]

"Bollocks.. What a stinking load of it-" cursed the calloused lips, who swore to no end that they would not be gotten anywhere near the flea bitten mounds of squalor and dirt to which he had come. Living by and by was not nearly enough to quench a young man's ambitions, and though they were not to keep all of Westero's beneath him and he resting his rear on a throne, there was much an apprenticed pair of hands could do for glory.

Gendry thought on wielding sword in hand in battle, as it had been suggested, and the thought did not greatly unsettle him. Yet something in the act of pounding fire into the metal that could melt flesh beneath it's blades, for either side, to be truthful, sent a wave of fright and warmth through his veins. Something he knew so well, and drew comfort from that could also pay decently- he lost gratitude, between running and dodging the clutches of the crown, of his natural talent and anonymous coin lender.

Rubbing his hands together closer to the flame, the bull turned to see Aria. His voice echoed more than his curses had as he answered accordingly.

"Not to Fleabottom, surely?" grimaced the bastard. His eyes parted from their lids in surprise- he could not stay, and his mentor would not take him again. To think truly, it was to The Wall they would take him sooner or later, were he not to find good honest work. The idea struck him as a genuine choice, but not one he would be readily wanting to make. Gendry scratched his head and looked further, still agape.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

Fleabottom or the Red Keep... neither of these were a promising situation for Gendry to be placed in, and Arya knew that. Taking King Robert's bastard son for a friend was a dangerous predicament – not that Arya claimed to be a lady of security and safety. If anyone was to find his bloodline, that was another contestant for the Iron Throne that the kingdom did not need. And, as far as Arya knew, it was something that the bull-headed boy didn't want. It was evident in his face and his actions – how he prized his work over any attempt to win power or prestige. She wished she could be like that at times; tied down to no family, duty or honour. Oh, she loved her family, to be sure – but with her mother's attempts to find her a suitable lord and her brother's compromise with her 'dancing' lessons, Arya felt more like a wolf in an exhibit than one who was free.

“Well, what am I going to tell people when there's a blacksmith in the Red Keep? 'I have no idea who he was, my lord! He just came in here and lit a fire!' They'll think you a raper.”The girl snapped. Of all the people that Arya would consider rapers, Gendry was the furthest from it. He was the boy that kept her secret about being a girl, and subsequently kept her out of trouble from both the men who liked little, seemingly defenseless boys and those who would do her harm if her gender was exposed. 'Of all of them, Gendry is different.' She thought to herself. It was something she'd never admit out loud – especially to him of all people.

Placing both her feet firmly on the ground, the girl gave a loud sigh and fixated her intense stare on him once more. It was clear that she was thinking; she was trying to come to a compromise to keep him near yet make sure he was out of danger. She knew as soon as he went back to his old master the secret of his line would be out, and there was only so many places a man could go that was free of proverbial rats and spiders. Try as she might to pretend like she didn't care, Arya did. He was the closet thing she had to family since she was reunited with them, and she considered him just as much of a brother as those who were legitimate. 'Much like Jon.' the thought occurred to her. If she saw him again, she'd introduce them. She was sure the two would like that.

“I'm going back to Winterfell soon,” she admitted, the words tumbling from her mouth before she had a chance to reign them in. Her admission would hurt him, she knew – the startling fact she didn't tell him sooner. It wasn't like she had tried not too; she simply hadn't found an opportunity to present it to him. “You could come with me and get work there. I'll appeal to my lady mother that you were the one that helped me after my father...” she didn't want to finish the sentence. She shook her head violently. “You'll be safe there – away from the eyes and ears of the kingdom. I'm sure she'll find you some work in the forge. You could meet Bran and Rickon.”

'And I will contend with her attempts to find me a suitor,' Arya thought, the idea no more appealing to her than pretending to be a lady. Arya was the biggest wild card of the family, her sister Sansa having much more appeal to lords and ladies. With her reputation and her appeal against her inevitable marriage, the ones who seemed to show the most interest in marrying the youngest Stark daughter were the ones who believed they could 'tame' her. That was a hilarious prospect.

OOC|| You should totally join the OOC chat so we can plot, too. <3

[the-starkbitch-blog]

"I want to go back to Winterfell soon."

"King’s Landing is so boring at times. The only thing I get to look forward to is my dancing lessons."

[longliveviserys]

I have arranged with your mother that you may come and go from King’s Landing as you like, Lady Arya, so that you may have your dancing lessons as well as your home. If I can do anything to help prepare for your journey, please let me know.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

"My Lady Mother did..." Arya trailed off, the implications of her mother permitted her leave back to Winterfell suddenly apparent. Likely she was requesting her so that she could work on finding her a husband to keep their safety within Westeros. A less than... suitable option for the young lady. Still, seeing Bran and Rickon again would mean nothing less than the world to her. "Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, remembering her courtesies in front of him. It seemed only yesterday that Joffery was on the throne, and Arya would have extended no kindness to him. She wasn't sure what to make of Targaryens. "I shouldn't need much help to get ready. When should I prepare to leave?"

[the-starkbitch-blog]

"I want to go back to Winterfell soon."

[the-starkbitch-blog]

thekrakenofpyke:

"Dancing lessons? Who are you and what have you done to Arya Stark?"

Arya gave the darkest look she was sure that she could muster. "I'm learning water dancing. It's not like I hold a boy's hand and swoon at him like Sansa does!"

[thefunke-chicken]

Gendry shuffled along during her many words, lighting the dry logs as she lit her threats with a strange passion most her age could not find within themselves. He look sullenly at the piled of wood, cursing there crispness. How was it that even the wood was more suited for warming a hand, even in the depths of the castle he had been fool enough to search, the dungeons perchance had finer grains and a flavour of mead. He shook his head and turned to catch her not staring at him, but teetering in a precarious stance.

Opening his mouth to tease her as he did, the bastard straightened his back, a new orange flame stealing the shadows from his corner. It flickered and sent waves of heat across his cheeks, and soon he thought to leave her in her concentration.

The bundle of soiled cloth in a now undarkened room caught his attention, and tentatively Gendry clambered gracelessly to it, pressing his knuckles which were pressed with dirt and burns against it’s contents. “Are you done?" he wondered aloud after a long handful of moments. His eyes strayed to her position- how long might she fight to keep it? he thought curiously. 

[the-starkbitch-blog]

The heat was a welcomed change to the room - Arya having grown accustomed to practicing in the dark. It suited her, she told herself. She needed to be like a cat; lithe, small and stealthy, like a shadow. Where else better to learn such traits than in the dark? It was unforgiving as any mistress and cruel to those who did not master it. Perfect for this girl who dare not let anything be cruel to her. Not without punishment in turn.

"Syrio said that the most practiced of water dancers can stay in this position for days," she explained, her determination evident even as her toes began to ache and protest. "He says that the best men are those who are barely use their feet. They do not control what's around them; they become one with it." Quickly tossing her weight over to her other toes, she eyed Gendry for a few seconds to place what he thought of such a lesson. He knew how to fight, that much she was aware of, but his skills lay more in his work as a blacksmith than a swordsman.

"You don't have to stay. I don't even know how you got in here in the first place, but I'm going to be here for a while. Your choice."

[fxtechosen]

I’m sorry I’m invading the Gendrya tag again. ; ;

But I finished "You’d be my lady" so I thought, what with the response was to the preview, I’d show you guys the end product. :)

Any kind of comments and constructive criticism are wonderful~ <3 Since I had so much fun with this pairing in video editing I may open up requests for people for songs and stuff. Who knows?

[the-starkbitch-blog]

thebullheadedbastardgendry:

Her sudden grip on his chest dried his throat considerably. She would not speak of his being there, of course, and it was not as though the little lady was particularly imposing, not to him, anyways. Gendry glued his lips together, only to roll his eyes and answer anyhow.

"I saw you 'ere this morning, much to early for adventuring, I supposed, and wanted to light a fire so that you might see your own toes. You think that a man would not flay you at the chance? You need'nt worry for me, only yourself. Besides, what is protecting you if not that poker, there?" chided the bastard, who smiled at his own voice in the damp shadow. Fleabottom stunk more than the mold that dripped at the corners of some of the other rooms he had found, even if they did frighten him considerably, and he was in no hurry at all to leave his place with her just then.

"If a man dare try to flay me, he would find it turned on him," Arya all but spat, a lack of fear seemingly apparent in her words. It was hard to say if such a thing lay beyond the surface - as the youngest Stark daughter was not known to profess such things to anyone. Not even to the bull-headed blacksmith boy in her company. "It's not a poker either; it's a Needle. It can still kill someone."

Her outburst then had left them once again in a state of darkened silence, something that was strange given their normal interaction. Awkward perhaps, though given the fact Arya could barely see the boy she couldn't gauge his expression. "...fine, light the fire then. And stay quiet. You shouldn't even be here. If Robb or the Lannisters find you... even a Targaryen spy, do you know what they'd do to us - to you?" Arya already knew how much her family disapproved of Gendry, to the point the woman believed they would do their best to get rid of him. That was why she kept their visits limit and it was why she was so brash to him when she did. She wanted to protect him. He was different and he was her friend. No one could take that from her.

Turning and taking three steps away from him, Arya allowed one leg to rise into the air as she stood on the toes of another - an exercise Syrio had taught her long ago. She didn't speak to Gendry during it, though she would not ignore him should he see it fit to question her on such a thing.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

"I want to go back to Winterfell soon."

"King's Landing is so boring at times. The only thing I get to look forward to is my dancing lessons."

[thefunke-chicken]

“What are you doing m’lady?” chastised Gendry with a sly smile. Dirt clinging to his hair with the ash of wood fire, he knocked over a bundle of firewood, pushing it clumsily to land on her nimble feet, and his own. His dark hair had kept him hidden in the unlit room, none to his own mischievous intentions. No, he had simply brought firewood, nothing else, he thought silently.

Or, perhaps he was a trifle curious. This room had been under rein of the golden haired cats he hated so deeply, and that was- something else entirely. He stifled the urge to light the entire castle on fire, but his face burned hotly in place of the stone walls.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

Arya never claimed to be a girl who could be easily scared. These days her 'fear' manifested into aggression, which would then be inflicted upon the unfortunate victim of her surprise. She didn't forget Harrenhal and the like - and it was that only worsened her disposition. It caused her hand to rush to her blade only until the typical "m'lady", a taunt inflicted only by him, filled her ears, and all Arya could do was give a loud and irritable sigh as she spun to face him. "Seven hells, Gendry; do you know what half the people in the Red Keep are going to do if they find you here?" Arya couldn't claim that she wasn't pleased to see him, but that pleasure came with a price. The golden haired 'cats' had spiders and birds everywhere - and the youngest Stark daughter would not risk having secrets spun and chirruped about her. It was one thing to shoot a bird in the breast - quite another to have its mate scream to alert everyone nearby. Grabbing onto the fabric of his tunic, the young lady dragged him further into the shadows of her training room, slamming the door as soon as both of them where inside.

It left them in an awkward state of darkness, but for the moment Arya disregarded it. Even in the dim light, the evident crinkle of her nose and narrowing of her eyes showed her curiosity, quickly replaced with the same disregard that was normally upon her visage. "What are you doing here?"

[winterroserpg-blog-deactivated2]

The trial is coming up soon.

[winterroserpg-blog-deactivated2]

Arya Stark! I’ve been waiting to meet you, and your sister. It’s a trial for my brother and I, to prove that we are true dragons. Fire will test us and reveal that we are true dragons. Nothing to fear, sweetling. I do hope you’ll attend, though. 

A little bird told me that you were in “dancing” lessons before you fled the capital. How would you like to resume those lessons? 

[the-starkbitch-blog]

"To prove you are true dragons?"

Arya couldn't deny her curiosity to such a thing, but there was also a heavily measured suspicion that came with such a 'trial'. While she had no reason to be overly wary of the Targaren's, they were also the family her father had fought to overthrow. She blinked at her next comment regardless; that taking her right off guard.

She knew that her family didn't have much of an objection to her want to learn to fight, but she hadn't expected it to be... common knowledge. As Sansa had said, there were spiders and birds and all manner of fancy words for spies. This was probably just another.

"Robb said they could resume as soon as we gain a proper teacher," Arya replied, her voice measured. "Since Syrio left, there hasn't been as great of a mentor, my lady."

[winterroserpg-blog-deactivated2]

The trial is coming up soon.

[the-starkbitch-blog]

"Trial?" Arya's eyes narrowed suspiciously, given that she wasn't particularly fond of trials. "Whose is it?"

[the-starkbitch-blog]

Robb had promised her that Arya would be able to continue her dancing lessons in secret as long as she behaved around the palace. It was an easy enough thing to make, but not to keep, and Arya found the more polite and ladylike she tried to be the more her temper flared and her want to get back to training and seeing Gendry resurfaced. “But I'm a lady now,” she tried to tell herself, though it made her want to shove her fingers down her throat and vomit. “I have to be like Sansa. Kind, gentle and poised... ha.”

She was creeping to one of the rooms she used to train, Needle tucked away as a neatly crafted umbrella should she run into anyone. She had to hand it to the smarts of her and her brother – without it, it was unlikely she'd be able to get her things around anywhere.

“Smooth like water; quick as a shadow,” the girl mumbled under her breath, trying to move as nimbly as she could – both as a warm up and practice for the training ahead.

[powerandvengeance]

Arya Stark | King’s Landing | FC: Maisie Williams | Taken

She never wanted to be a lady. Since she could walk she has been anything but. Even before the war back home in Winterfell she would rather practice archery with the boys than master the art of sewing alongside her sister Sansa. The lessons taught to her by dancing master Syrio Forel served Arya well after her father was killed while posing as an orphaned boy and on the run from the Lannisters. With the sword half-brother Jon Snow gave her always on her hip, she entrusts her secret to Gendry, a blacksmith’s apprentice heading for the Wall. After the return of the Targaryens from across the Narrow Sea, and once her family was safe, she was able to return to King’s Landing to live with her eldest brother, Robb Stark, now Hand of the King to Viserys. Arya is happy to be with her siblings once more, but surprised by how the war has changed them. No longer were they opposed to to her wishes, except for her mother, who continues to try and find a little lord to promise her to. But Catelyn cannot stop a young princess who is miles from home with her brother in King’s Landing. And as long as she remains lady-like and respectful on special occasions, Robb as agreed to let her continue learning the way of the sword.

Wise and cunning for her stature and age, she can at times outsmart those she can’t trust 

Often speaks her mind in the presence of those that could do her harm, albeit a little too recklessly. 

Considers Gendry as one of her best friends and brought him with her back to King’s Landing.

PLAYER INFORMATION:

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[gameoffeelz]

i was not prepared for this;