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“She’s come along well,” Ser Davos praised as he came to stand next to Arya on the docks. They stared up at her ship, the last of it being worked on. She’d be leaving soon, she was starting to get excited. She was truly doing this. “What a ship. Maybe you should be in my role.” He said warmly, tilting his head towards her.
“No, I think you’re in the right place,” she looked up at him with a smile. “Thanks for your help.” She added, grateful for his input. Ships may not have been new for her, but building one? Getting the right workers to create it and finding the right crew to sail to the unknown with her? Ser Davos and his knowledge had been instrumental to getting her and her ship to the right place and she couldn’t have done it without him.
“It was quite enjoyable!” he said with a nod as he stood with his hands behind his back. He continued to look over the ship, the impressive direwolf figurehead carved on the bow, and the flags they had put up in the last few days. It was her home from now on, until she decided it wasn’t anymore. She’d wondered if it was too much, if showing herself and her house would bring problems. She still didn’t know for sure that the Faceless Men would never come for her. But they would find her if they really wanted to no matter what. She wouldn’t risk those she cared about this way, not being with them, and she after finally finding peace in who she was, she wasn’t going to give it up. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell. Her sigil was a direwolf, her colours were white and grey and that’s who the world would meet. That’s what she’d take with her. “Perhaps I can convince His Grace to build another one or two. It is his sigil too, after all.” The Master of Ships said, clearly taken by the ship as much as she was. This could be the first of a fleet, she realised proudly.
“Wouldn’t you have to convince the Master of Coin to fund it first?” she said wryly. “I’d heard you may have more trouble winning that argument.”
Davos sighed, dropping his head. “Ah, his reputation is known already, is it? That didn’t take long.”
“I tend to learn things quicker than most do,” she shrugged, giving nothing of how she found things out. A number of times now she’d had to remind herself that whatever she did find out, Bran would probably already know. It had been hard to let that go, feeling like she had to protect him in his new position. “I think you have some time before it’s known by everyone else, if you’d like to save him.”
“Suppose I should,” he mused, making it quite clear he had no want to. “We are the most alike on the council.”
Frowning at him, she turned more to face him. “Why do you think that?” she asked.
“Neither of us were born into anything we have now, or really earned it.” He shrugged, keeping his attention on the docks. He sounded reasonable, and even from the side, Arya could read his face enough to know he wasn’t being disingenuous, but she didn’t think it was a reasonable argument. He was being the humble man she’d come to know him as though.
“You got what you have through loyalty, and because you chose to do the right thing. Bronn got his by killing, and because he likes money, which is why he is master of coin and you are who the Hand would recommend to be Hand,” she said calmly. “You’re nothing alike.” She assured. She’d known more like Bronn; Davos was rare. He was someone you’d value on your side, Bronn’s only real worth being on your side was to keep an eye on him.
“Well thank you,” he said a bit caught off guard by the compliment. He cleared his throat. “Between you and me, I think Tyrion just wanted out of it,” he joked self-deprecatingly. “While we’re on the matter, there is another thing I need to thank you for. Should have a while back, really, but everything…” he trailed off and Arya stayed where she was, waiting for him to say what he was planning to, even though she’d already guessed what it was. He turned towards her, respectful in his addressing of her. “The night of the Battle of Winterfell…you…well, you saved my hide, to be frank.” He said with a bow of his head towards her, conceding the action to her.
“People I care about care about you, so…” she gave a quirk of her mouth, staring back at him with sincerity.
“Well,” he cleared his throat again, uncomfortable with her attention. “I know you’re not planning on being back in these parts for a while yet but…if there’s ever anything I can do to return the favour.” He offered, meeting her eyes again, and again, his respect was there. Arya really hadn’t met many people like Davos, especially not here. He embodied so much of the North. Humility, bravery, loyalty. She was glad he’d found her family, every one of them. He reminded of her Gendry sometimes too. Dry and blunt in his humour, almost grumpy in his having to put up with people, and solid and dependable in his presence.
“Actually, there is one thing.” Arya started, continuing with her thoughts.
Davos looked at her with surprise that there was something he could give her. “Oh, course, what can I help with?” he asked.
For the first time, she looked away, not exactly questioning what she was going to ask of him, but it was a choice she was making by involving him. Meeting his eyes again, she took a small breath. “Can you look out for Gendry for me?”
“Gendry.” He frowned.
“Gendry.” She repeated simply, not looking away. She’d made the choice, and she wasn’t ashamed of her connection to the smith.
His frown remained, and he slowly dropped his head like he was trying to understand. “And…when you say look out for…” he prompted.
“Make sure he’s okay,” she said easily, keeping her focus. “That he’s…safe, and happy. Make sure he has good people around him, if you have any say in it.” She asked of him. She hated the thought of Gendry alone, without people he trusted or people who would nurture everything good about him. He could be a truly wonderful lord, and his people would adore him, she was sure, but only if they let him be himself.
“Well…” he paused. “I have been…already. I mean…” he stalled again, his forehead still furrowed with confusion. He leaned closer to her. “I didn’t know you two were…that familiar with each other.” He tried.
“We’re familiar.” Arya said, keeping herself as neutral as possible, as if this was all so expected, so normal, and she wasn’t going to apologise for it. Davos mattered more to Gendry than he ever would to her, and she didn’t want to affect that. She didn’t want to speak for Gendry, or tell Davos something Gendry wouldn’t want her to.
“Right, okay then.” He accepted with a slow nod, avoiding her eyes, awkward at how familiar she was so easily saying they were. Somehow the lack of explanation, of relevance or emotion made her feel like she’d let him down anyway, like she hadn’t represented him, or how she felt about him enough.
“You saved him from The Red Woman?” she decided to ask, knowing the answer but trying to set the discussion.
“Yes, I…I did, yes.” He nodded, his eyebrows now raised at the new turn.
“She took him from me.” She said.
“You were with the Brotherhood?” he asked, the frown lining his face again as he tried to piece things together.
“No, I was with Gendry, and another person, another friend, when the Brotherhood found us. When they found out who I was, they took us. Then The Red Woman took him.” She said, trying to keep it simple while also revealing just how much they had weaved into each other’s lives. She’d known Gendry longer than anyone else had, including Davos, and she was proud of that. It meant something to her, to be that person.
“I…I had no idea.” He voiced with a shake of his head.
“Thank you for saving him.” She said sincerely. If he hadn’t… She didn’t want to think about it. Death was familiar, but Gendry’s wasn’t something she wanted any understanding of. That wouldn’t be something simple or routine, it would hurt. She was sure it would take something of her too. She loved him, even if she couldn’t be with him. Knowing he was safe, and in a place he could have whatever he wanted, with people around him like Ser Davos who valued him and cared about him, it was enough. It was what she wanted for him. He deserved it.
“It was the right thing to do,” Davos lowered his head towards her, clearly not unexpecting it. It was obvious he was still trying to realise what was between them, what he had missed about them. He turned back to her ship, briefly looking it over. “You know, Storm’s End, it’s…it’s not that far from here.” He said, the suggestion clear, if careful.
“It’s South.” Arya pointed out, feeling the smile on her face anyway.
“Hm.” He gave a nod, though didn’t take back his plan.
“I’m going West.” She continued.
“You could always…stop, on the way,” he added, pursing his lips. “Way around, so to speak.”
“I’m not sure the crew will appreciate that.” She said, but her smile grew, at the thought of visiting Gendry, at someone rooting for them, at the idea of anyone thinking they could be more subtle than she could.
“Well, no, probably not but…” he nodded his head from side to side, as if weighing the options. “Some crews are different.”
“Not in my experience.” She said flatly, meeting him beat for beat.
He paused at that. “You’ve sailed before then.” He realised for sure. It was something he’d hinted at before as they’d talked about her ship, but she hadn’t given a response either way, never telling him that much.
“Once or twice.” She conceded.
He was silent as he stood there, his mood changing in front of her as he thought things. He heaved a slight breath, a decision coming over him. “I can see you’re not going to tell me and who could blame you but…” he frowned, concern on his face as he met her eyes. “Does Gendry know how many times? Or…where to? Or from?”
She stared back, suddenly caught off guard by how much feeling was bubbling to the surface. Here was someone speaking for Gendry, doing what he thought was best for him, and pointing out that she may not be it, without realising that’s what he was doing. It made it more real though, that he wasn’t purposely criticising her. Because Gendry didn’t know any of those things and she didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t because she didn’t want him, or didn’t trust him, or because she thought he wasn’t worth it. She didn’t know how to explain it was because he was too important, and she was too afraid. It was more than she was expecting. She’d never talked about him with anyone, not really. People had seen them together, people who were mostly dead now. But this was different. Tears blurred her eyes, as sudden as they seemed to come to her these days. She could bury emotion down until suddenly she couldn’t, and then it was too much, too obvious, and she had no reliable way of getting back out. “It’s not safe for him.” She whispered.
“I don’t follow,” he shook his head, looking as surprised by Arya's emotion as she was, and concerned. It wasn’t just tears taking her by surprise, she wanted to talk about him too, talk about the person she liked. The person she loved and the only one who she had chosen, even though she knew she’d never be his wife. She'd never be anyone's wife, even if she chose him. “Look, I…I spent half my life sailing the coasts. I lost family…” Davos tried to get through to her. “And somehow now I’ve made bits of a new one. I understand that certain ways of life may not be for you…I understand that, I remember that. But…” he stared at her, the frown now worried. He gave a small sigh through his nose. “Don’t forget to rethink it, sometimes. You never know what kind of life you might find yourself suited to. Master of Ships to the King,” he gestured to himself with a shrug, making his point, and breaking hers down. “You can always come back, and you can always leave again,” he assured as he put a hand on her shoulder. It was sort of awkward at first, and she found herself turning her head to stare at it, but he didn’t pull away and she half-wondered if it was because he knew what she could do and expected she’d act if she wanted him to move away. He was the sole person who’d seen her fight, and now he knew this about her too, this huge part of her heart that made up so much of who she was. Suddenly she wondered what she would have told her father about Gendry, suddenly she wanted that chance. And she grieved she’d never have it. Swallowing, she looked back up at Davos, tears still in her eyes. “Besides, I’d really like to know what’s West,” He gave a smile. “I’m sure Gendry wouldn’t mind hearing about it either,” he added warmly, making her give a watery smile back. “He might need to learn to swim, after all.” He said dryly.