Chapter Text
Spring’s Discord
Arya and Gendry are happily married, living contentedly in Winterfell with their impressive daughter. At the worst possible time, Daenerys calls a summit amongst the remaining Great Houses to discuss a lasting truce, offering up Winterfell as the center of negotiations and Arya as host and peacemaker. But it won’t be easy amongst the squabbling of petty lords, the advances of an ex lover, and the threats from an unknown adversary.
Arya
She was still having trouble getting used to the warm weather, the various colors of wild flowers, and the blue blue skies year-round in Winterfell. It seemed her family’s words were no longer relevant.
Winter is coming.
No, it wasn’t. It had already came and went. The Maesters had officially declared it Spring. Perhaps they could adopt new words now.
“My Lady, what would you have me do with the sheets?” A servant asks, nose scrunched in disgust. Arya looks up from her reverie to peruse the sheets in question. Soiled. Ruined.
“Wash them, thoroughly. Twice.” She advises, and the woman nods grimly.
Winterfell was finally free of guests. She was more than glad to have her home back.
Mostly, they kept to themselves in Winterfell, safe and sound behind the walls. They were very careful as to who was let in. She preferred it that way. Arya had learned her lesson well. Arya kept her own family safe at all costs.
But many many new people had come to settle in the now temperate North in the surrounding districts, and she still had her duties. Now every three moons, they hosted a Petitioning. Those with serious requests, disputes that could not be settled, and crimes they needed sentencing for would attend. She never quite looked forward to the chore, but she understood the importance. It was a duty of the Warden of Winterfell. She was the authority in the North. And all knew it. She was not questioned. The fate of the Boltons saw to that.
Everyone knew.
But no one spoke of it. She made sure of that as well.
She and Gendry had wiped out the entire line. The women and children spared could no longer claim the name Bolton and live. The Starks were once again the voice and muscle of the North.
And over time, the gatherings had become a pleasant diversion, she had come to look forward to speaking with the people, to being needed. They’d developed a reputation for fairness. That, coupled with the more moderate weather and open land, had drawn new citizens by the droves. The North was prospering, and Winterfell was at the center. She was proud.
But she was happiest when the petitioners went home and the land was peaceful once more. If she had it her way, it would only be the three of them at all times. Gendry, Alana, and her.
After all these years, Arya could honestly say she was content. She and Gendry were perfect together. Once she’d let him in, she’d been able to relax somewhat. She trusted in their bond and their love. He’d long since stopped attending the hearings and the meetings, stopped reading the paperwork and the political correspondence. But he listened when she was troubled or torn, held her when she needed it, and made love to her till she no longer cared about petty squabbles. He told her every day how he loved her and worshipped her. And she made sure he knew it back.
And Alana was a true miracle. Every minute of every day she thanked the Gods for gifting her with a child. There was a time when she believed she would never have one. Alanna was smart as anything. Always curious. Beautiful like her grandmother, dark hair with Arya’s own grey eyes. She was kind and easy with a smile, a little lady through and through.
In short, Arya had trouble finding common ground with her.
As a babe, Mother and daughter were inseparable. She had taken joy in finding out what foods her daughter liked best, hearing Alana’s first words, and introducing her to the horses.
But one day, something had changed. Her daughter seemed overly sensitive at every correction, obedient but shy at every lesson she taught. Her daughter began to seek her out less and less, preferring her father’s company.
It made sense. At this age, she was almost 11. And Arya was always busy with some emergency or another. Arya certainly wasn’t the warmest person, not as open as Gendry.
Now, she wasn’t jealous. Truly, she wasn’t. She had loved her own father more than anything, she still did. To have him taken away was the single hardest blow she had ever faced. It meant the world to her that her own daughter could know that same closeness. She gave a silent prayer that nothing ever got in the way of it.
Still…
They were so close when Alana was born. Arya wouldn’t let her out of her sight for worry, it was a difficult pregnancy, just getting the poisons out of her system. She nursed her daughter from her own breast, changed her daughter’s shitty nappies, and rocked her when she cried. Gendry woke up nights with her. Arya helped teach her to read and write, to lace her boots, to eat pomegranates, and a thousand other things. She was now trying to teach her how to run a household, as her mother had done. And her daughter may well resent her for it. Arya herself had been unruly and hateful. Alana was no trouble maker. Maybe her mother was right about the curse.
But it didn’t feel like part of the curse.
It was her own fault. She shouldn’t have pushed so hard. She shouldn’t have focused on responsibility and propriety. But it was in her nature. Arya only knew how to be a Stark. And that gigantic burden would one day fall on Alana, so Arya couldn’t let go. She couldn’t be as gentle as she would like. But at least she had Gendry. Gendry could be that for her. And Arya would have to be the practical one, the tough one. That was life. That was who she was after all. There was only so much she could soften.
After seeing to the last of the necessary arrangements, Arya made her way tiredly to her daughter’s room to check in.
Gendry was there of course. They were both giggling over shared jokes and imaginary adventures. They turn more serious upon noticing her there. Great, she was the sobering presence in the room.
“How was your day, Love?” Gendry asks, greeting her with a kiss to the top of her head.
“The usual.” She answers, then turns her attention to Alana. “How was your day?”
“It was fine, mother. I did well in my lessons.” She answers politely, tucked neatly into bed, fluffy nightgown peeking out of the covers, dark hair curled about the collar.
Fine?!?
Why was her daughter always so fucking polite? It drove her mad.
She knew most parents were proud of things like that. But it made her feel a child again again, constantly disappointing her own mother.
“Fine? She’s better than fine. Alana’s learning about dividing or some such. I have no idea what that means. But she understands well enough. She’s a genius, ain’t she?” He smiles that full grin he gets when bragging about their daughter, and Alana looks away embarrassed.
“Yes, of course she is.” Arya agrees. “Perhaps you could show me later?” Arya offers, thinking they could bond over studying. She was quite good with numbers herself.
“Of course, Mother.” Alana is quick to interject, smile still so polite.
Gendry looks at her with some pity before hiding it.
Fuck that.
“Well goodnight. We’ve an early day tomorrow.” She adds the last in for good measure, squeezing her daughter’s foot through the covers, before leaving them to their gossiping.
It didn’t take long to wash the day from her face and untie her braid. She was used to it now. She no longer employed many personal servants, preferring to look after herself. The brave and loyal women who’d helped her win the castle had been given lands and titles, living their own lives.
She spends some time cleaning her teeth. She then rubs a softening cream on her hands, elbows, knees, and feet. She likes the feel.
Gendry enters quietly, and with barely a sound, comes behind her, helping rub the lotion onto her shoulders.
“Hi, Love.” He whispers into her ear, making her shiver as usual.
In the mirror she has time to study him. Still so handsome, maybe even more so. He kept his black hair short, and shaved his fast-growing beard every few days, keeping only a fine shadow of stubble on his chin at any one time. He’d grown into his frame more, finally comfortable in his place. He held himself with confidence, chose proper clothes, and smiled in a way that made your heart hurt.
She knew how lucky she was.
She pats the hand on her shoulder and offers a return smile, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“I’m exhausted.” She admits before getting up and climbing into bed.
“Hmmm.” He agrees, joining her.
She blows out the candle beside her bed, getting herself comfortable beneath the sheets. When she turns to him he is still looking at her expectantly.
“Yeah?” She questions. His puppy dog look is different from his horny look.
“Don’t tell me you forgot.” He jokes.
Forgot what?
“No.” She fibs.
He chuckles good-naturedly.
“Of course.” He says.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You never remember these things, Arya.” He continues. “You forgot my birthday, Alana’s, and the last few anniversaries.” He explains patiently.
“Our anniversary!” She exclaims. He gets this smug look on his face. He loved to lord things over her just as she did. They really shouldn’t still be this competitive.
“Yeah.”
“I...”
“It’s all right.” He placates her. He is really looking forward to dragging this out. “You’ve been busy. Just because I’ve been planning this for...” Asshole.
“I didn’t forget.” She insists.
He ignores this.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow.” He takes something from under the bed. “Happy Anniversary!” He says, waiting anxiously for her to open his present.
With a weary eye, she opens it.
Seeds.
What?
Seeds, seeds, and more seeds.
“Gendry, what?”
“You’re always talking about how annoying it is to order lemons and pumpkins and berries. I thought perhaps we could simply grow them here.” She was touched by the sentiment.
“But Gendry they don’t grow here. It’s warmer, sure. But hardly tropical like the South...”
“That’s why we’re building a Greenhouse, to grow whatever you like. I contacted some experts down South. It should be ready by next planting season.” He’s smiling so wide she thinks it might pop off his face.
“Gendry...” She seemed to have no words.
“Do you like it?” He asks.
“I love it! Thank you.” She kisses him all over his face. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you.” He chuckles
“You’re very welcome, Wife.” He kisses her back. “Happy Anniversary.”
“Thank you, Gendry, truly.” She inspects the seeds in her hand, feeling the grooves and edges.
“Even if you didn’t get me anything.” He gets in.
Asshole.
“We all forget sometimes.” He teases. “I just win at being married, that’s all.”
The truth was- she had not forgotten.
In fact, she had a present planned.
Only now, in the face of his teasing, after Alana’s earlier sting, she didn’t feel ready yet.
“Okay, okay.” She cuts him off.
“I can’t help it. The day we met is ingrained in my memory.”
“Wait. Sorry. What did you say?” She clarifies.
“It’s just… I like to celebrate the memory. The day when my life changed forever and I met the love of my life.”
She cackles, evilly. And suddenly, his joy turns to suspicion.
“The day we met?” She prods.
“Yes. We met today, and married the next day. Surely you remember that much.”
“Oh, I remember. I remember the day we married. And I remember the day we met.” She responds.
He, of course, looks confused.
“Yes, that’s what I...”
“No. You’re wrong. You didn’t remember. We met long before our wedding.” A blank expression crosses his face as he struggles to grasp her meaning.
“What?”
“We met years before. I didn’t exactly expect you to remember me right off, I’d changed quite a lot. I did think it would come to you in time though. I suppose I didn’t leave much of an impression then, huh?” It had hurt a bit.
“What? No. You’re making this up to get back at me. There’s no way...”
“I swear it.” She promises simply.
“No. That's not possible. I would remember my own wife.” He guffaws, though only half-heartedly, no longer sure.
“I would have thought so too.” She remarks.
He looks stricken, and at that, she regrets doing this now.
“It’s fine, Gendry. It hardly matters now. I’m only teasing.”
“So it’s not true?” He relaxes.
“Oh, it’s true. But it doesn’t bother me. It no longer matters.”
“No. No. Tell me.” He’s sitting up in bed now, no sign of letting this go.
Well, she just would enjoy knocking him off his high horse for once.
“Arya?”
“I was only a little girl...”
*Flashback*
Arya tiptoed, not wanting to frighten off the cat.
Just one more step.
The cat heard her, cried out, and ran off before she could quite grasp it.
Damn!
This was the last cat. The very last one. She had to catch it.
Off it ran, and she followed. Down into the sewers. Around and around she went, but the cat had disappeared. Upon hearing voices, Arya snuck into an alcove to hide.
She couldn’t make out the voices, and was not stupid enough to poke her head out to get a better look. But she heard snippets of their conversation.
They spoke of wolves, hands, bastards, and kings.
What?!?
They were talking about her father. He was in danger.
Off she ran, finding her way toward the light. The crevice was tight, but her small size meant she could squeeze through easily enough. Out she pushed until she was free. Though she had no idea where she was.
It was beautiful here though. Another side of the castle she’d never explored. The waves crashed, and she retreated back towards the stone walls to keep from falling in. She walked carefully along the edge, hearing the crash of waves along the rocks. When she could see the shells along the bottom, she let herself wade through the water. The sharp edges cut her feet, but she was able to go much faster. She kept her eyes on her feet, careful of deeper spots. The closer she got to shore, the more people she saw. They washed clothes with ribbed boards while children splashed happily nearby.
She’s up to her calves, her boots looking much cleaner than they had a moment ago. The smell from the sewers was clinging to her.
“Oye!” She hears, and looks up.
A man is looking over at her, amusement written all over his face. No, not quite a man. He was young. He was bare to the waist, dark hair, and bright blue eyes.
“All right, boy?” He asks, chuckling.
He was handsome. Since when did she think things like that. Never!
But for the first time in her life, she was ashamed of her boyish appearance.
“Fuck off!” She replies loudly before scurrying back to the front gates, having to threaten the guards to regain entry.
She had to warn her father, though about what exactly she could not say.
*End Flashback*
Gendry is only looking at her with mouth agape.
“You still don’t remember?” She questions, feelings hurt all over again.
“That was you?!?” He exclaims in disbelief.
“So you do remember?”
“O’ course I remember! Are you kidding?”
She only shrugs.
“How could I forget?” He asks himself.
“It was a long time ago. I looked very different.” She rationalizes.
“I do remember. Every time after that, I would look for you, covered in shit, telling me to go fuck myself.” He chuckles.
“You did not.”
“I did so. Didn’t realize you were...” He rubs his brow in disbelief. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe...”
“There, see. We all forget things. And I forgive you. Goodnight.” She kisses him on the cheek and rolls over. She feels him sit up, can practically hear the gears turning in his brain. Eventually he slips his arms around her at lets himself relax.
“I love you.” He says sincerely.
“I love you.” She responds with just as much depth.
She’ll give him his present tomorrow, the news will keep.