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When she had been a child, Septa Mordane had always told her that no one would want a woman as wild and unskilled as her. She had crooked stitches, her tone wasn’t right for singing, she had no skill with an instrument, her dancing left something to be desired, and she was too interested in weapons. Sansa was the perfect lady, always behaving the proper way and never causing trouble. Arya was always getting dirty with her brothers or playing with the smallfolk, earning the name Arya Underfoot. She hated the dresses that her mother made her wear, an attempt to make her behave and be pretty like Sansa. Only, she could never be pretty like Sansa. Sansa had firey red hair and bright blue eyes, Arya’s hair was a mousey brown and she had dull grey eyes. Arya Horseface she had heard the other girls call her. Her hands were rough from the bow she practiced with when no one was watching or playing at swords with Bran. The hands of a blacksmith Septa Mordane had told her mother once.
Arya chuckled at that thought now, so many years later, she knew what real blacksmith hands felt like, and her own were nothing like that. She wasn’t sure what the first time he had touched her had been, probably sometime during their time in the Riverlands. She could clearly remember the last time though and she smile fell from her face. She had broken not only his heart but her own that night. She had been expecting to die, whether by the Mountain’s had or some other way in her quest for revenge against Cersei. Instead she had survived dragon fire and crumbling buildings with a plea to start a new life.
What that new life was she did not know. Winterfell did not feel like home anymore, not without all the people that had made it that way in the first place. The broken Red Keep had never been her home and it never would be. The Riverlands had been her prison, the woods and rivers keeping her from her family. Bravos had been her escape from everything that Arya Stark had been, it had been the home of No One. She had no place to call home. The feelings of home were now connected to people. Jon, Sansa, Bran, Gendry.
She sighed as she looked at the rolling waves of Blackwater Bay from her spot on the hill outside the city. Today would be a crucial day to helping her decide what the future held. The lords from all the kingdoms had finally arrived, it was time for them all to determine Jon and Tyrion’s fates. All she knew for sure was that Daenerys’ death would not be met by her brother’s own, she would make sure of it.
There was a chill to the air in King’s Landing that it hadn’t possessed the last time she had spent time in the city. Winter still had Westeros in its grip.
As everyone took their seats she took notice of those that arrived. She only knew a few of the faces, like Lord Royce, but she knew the names of others. Her cousin Robert Arryn, her uncle Edmure Tully, or Theon’s sister Yara Greyjoy. Sansa and Bran had already taken their places, and she realized that Sansa hadn’t brought any of the other Northern lords with her. A few people dressed in the Dornish style entered next, not speaking to anyone else as they took their seats. Yara was representing the Iron Islands alone, though there were a few other Iron Islanders in the pit, along with other guards for the other lords and ladies. Ser Brienne had arrived with Sansa, but Arya knew she was one of the representatives for the Stormlands. Her eyes drifted to the other two stormlanders, Ser Davos and Gendry. He looked handsome in his new lordly leathers but the strange markings on his shoulders confused her, they almost looked like claw marks.
Greyworm’s appearance with Tyrion drew her attention away from Gendry’s fashion choices. She expected to see another Unsullied escorting Jon but that was not the case. Sansa confronted Greyworm about the absence of their brother but the Unsullied commander was not going to be taking orders from any of them anytime soon. She knew that the Unsullied would push for the death of both Jon and Tyrion for their parts in Daenerys’ death, she could only hope that if the Westerosi showed a united front, that the Unsullied could be swayed. Her brother was not dying today.
Tyrion began speaking about stories, she didn’t know why he was being allowed to speak so much at all, but as much as she loved her little brother, he did not have the best story of them all. She had to stop herself from laughing at the pure ridiculous notion of him being King, he barely seemed like a person half the time. Bran had said himself multiple times that he wasn’t really a man anymore and Sansa told her how he had turned down being the Lord of Winterfell. Brandon Stark was a dream, the Three-eyed Raven was who they had now, and he could not be King. She was glad that the others had their own opinions as well.
“Queen Daenerys promised the Iron Islands it’s independence. We will not be bending the knee to anyone.” Yara spoke, her eyes glaring at anyone who would meet them.
“Dorne will be independent as well. Dorne’s inclusion under the rule of the Iron Throne was through marriage. Both the Iron Throne and House Targaryen are gone. We shall rule ourselves once again.” The Dornish Prince said to fill the silence after Yara’s words.
Sansa cleared her throat and spoke as well, “The North reclaims its independence too.”
Arya smirked and looked Tyrion, he had no clever words to say now. One by one the others proclaimed their own sovereignty as well. The united Seven Kingdoms of Westeros were no more, they were all once again under their own rule.
Everyone’s eyes turned to Gendry, the only Lord Paramount who had yet to say anything. His eyes were focused on the ground and she could see how tense his body was. Davos nudged him and he looked up, his eyes found hers and he said, “The Stormlands are independent.”
Greyworm seemed unconcerned with the strange turn of events, “That does not solve the issue at hand. What shall become of the traitors?”
“If we can all agree. We should send them both to the Wall, they can reform the Night’s Watch.” Edmure said.
Arya frowned, “Is there even a need for the Night’s Watch now? The Free Folk are not our enemy and the White Walkers are gone.”
Sam spoke up, “Our ancestors believed they were gone after the First Long Night and they returned. There is nothing to say they won’t return again in the future.”
Greyworm nodded, “Unsullied can agree to sending them to the Wall.”
Arya kept her composure on the outside but inside she was disappointed, Jon didn’t deserve a life at the Wall, he never had. At least he would be alive though and once the Unsullied left Westeros, how would they ever know if Jon returned to Winterfell?
Arya stood on the docks with Bran, Sansa was further down sharing her goodbye’s to Tyrion. Jon had still not been brought down from his cell.
“He will forgive you.” Bran said, breaking the quiet around them.
Arya looked down at her brother, “Who?”
“Gendry. He will take you up on anything you offer him.”
“I thought you could see the past.” She replied.
“That is all I need to see to know.”
She hated how his tone never changed and turned to look at the bay beyond the ships that were coming and going from the harbor.
“You won’t find what you need out there. Running away isn’t the answer, that was never who were supposed to be.”
She sighed and looked at him again, “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”
Bran didn’t reply as Sansa approached them but she could tell he had something he wanted to say. Sansa gave them a small smile as she joined them before her eyes drifted toward the path to the castle. Arya turned to looks as well, two men of the Watch were escorting Jon to the boat that would take them to the ship. The men continued further down the dock but Jon stood with them. They all shared their goodbyes.
“You can come visit me at the Wall you know, this doesn’t have to be goodbye forever.” Jon told her as their hug came to an end.
“I’m not going North, at least not yet.” She said, sharing a look with Bran before looking back to him.
“Where will you go?” Sansa asked.
She thought for a moment, “I want to see more of Westeros. See what the other kingdoms have to offer.”
No one questioned her further and she was glad for that, she wasn’t sure what else to say. Despite Bran’s assurances, she did not know how he would respond to her showing up at his castle.
She had made a detour to the Riverlands, she had been hoping to find Nymeria, but wherever the direwolf was, she was not somewhere Arya could find. She did stop by the Inn at the Crossroads though to speak to Hot Pie, telling him about the recent changes to Westeros, and that she was always welcome in the North or the Stormlands. The revelation that Gendry was now the King of the Stormlands was a bigger shock to him than anything else. She did not tell him what her future plans were and he didn’t ask.
That had been a fortnight earlier, now she was looking up at the large structure before her. It was nothing like Winterfell but she felt a familiar feeling about it. Legend said Bran the builder helped build the castle with the use of magic, just like he had done with Winterfell and the Wall. After everything she had experienced the last few years, she had no trouble believing that her ancestor possessed magic.
There was a lot of activity around the courtyard making it easy for slip instead the castle proper through a servant’s entrance. It was really much too easy, not a single person questioned a woman walking around in traveling leathers and carrying a sword, she would need to get that addressed for sure. What better way to take control of a kingdom that to kill the newly crowned King that had no heir? She paused in her steps as she mentally scolded herself for her thoughts, he might not even want her to stay, so she shouldn’t start making plans.
Voices were coming from down the hall so she quickly ducked into a nearby alcove on instinct.
“These ladies have such high expectations.” A female voice said.
“From the rooms or His Grace?” A second voice replied and they both laughed.
“Have you seen him attempt to talk to them?” She asked when they gained control of themselves, and Arya could tell they had stopped walking, “He looks like he would rather be fighting a war.”
“Izzy tried to bed him. She knew all the rumors about King Robert and his….appetites for women. He threw her out of his chambers, she was still naked as her name day when he did as well.”
“Really? Not a lot of men would turn down a pretty, naked girl offering themselves to him.” The footsteps started again, “Did he say anything to her?”
“Not that she told me. Maybe he takes after Lord Renly.”
The voices dimmed as they continued their speculations on Gendry’s preferred bed partners. Arya smiled as the walked way and she continued on her own walk in the opposite directions the maids had gone. If he was turning away willing women, maybe he did still love her like Bran claimed. She allowed her instincts to guide through the maze of unknown stairs and hallways of Storm’s End. She assumed the lord’s chamber would near the top of the large tower and attempted to find a way up there. The servants barely gave her a glance as she stumbled upon them, simply giving her a bow and nod of the head before going on their way.
She finally found a stairway that led upward and walked down the hallway at the top of them. She was starting to think that perhaps risking suspicion might be worth it and to ask a servant where to go when voice drifted from an open door.
“....fortnight and her has barely even looked at us.”
“There is a rumor going around that he suffers a broken heart.”
One of the women scoffed, “Probably some lowborn girl from Flea Bottom.”
“We just need to up our games, one of us should be able to sway him away from what girl holds his heart. One of us will just need to remind him how nice it is when a woman is willing to hold something else.”
They all laughed then, Arya assumed there were at least six women inside the room, based on the different voices she could hear. She walked off with a new determination, those vultures would not get anywhere near Gendry with their talons, she would make sure of it.
Arya was not waiting for him on the bed but instead was sitting with a goblet of wine in front of the fire. She didn’t want to him to think she was only here for his cock and that was the impression that the bed would give. The sky outside the window had darkened long ago and she had started to worry that this was a bad idea. He was a King now and she had stolen into his private chambers while he was busy ruling a kingdom and entertaining his lords and ladies. She should have done this proper way for once, announced herself at the gate and ask for audience. She could still do that, no one knew she was here, she could leave and no one would be the wiser.
She got to her feet to leave and that was the door swung open, a tired looking Gendry walked through it. He never even glanced in her direction, he simply kicked of his boats and then fell backwards onto his bed. She just stared at him, wondering what to do next, when his eyes opened and he sat up.
He immediately looked at her, his blue eyes roaming over her, before he said, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. I want to be with you, I was….”
“I wasn’t good enough as a lord but I am good enough as a king?” He asked, his voice deep with emotion as he got to his feet.
She shook her head, “What? No, of course….”
“I don’t want you hoped to accomplish by coming here Arya, but as I’m sure you spent time roaming my castle today, you know that I have more than enough women here you do want to marry me.”
Her angry bubbled to the surface, “You accuse me of only wanting to be with you because you are a king. Those women would have never even have given you a second glance when you were a blacksmith.”
“I am well aware of that m’lady, or is it princess now?” He asked, their bodies with only inches between them now.
“Don’t call me that.” She replied on reflex, but it didn’t get the smile she was hoping for. She reached up and cupped his cheek, “I am sorry. I was selfish when I said no to you that night.”
“Why are you here Arya?” He repeated, but the angry was gone from his voice.
“I love you. If your offer still stands, I want to be your wife.”
He shook his head, “You don’t want to be a lady, you never have and I never should have asked.”
She shook her head and forced him to look at her, “I was stuck in the past. Growing up a lady meant I needed to wear dresses, be polite, play the harp, and prepare myself to be married to the best match. The world is changing, that doesn’t have to be what a lady is anymore. I know you would never ask me to put away my sword. I got caught up in the words you said instead of using my heart.”
“You really want to marry me? I am King of the Stormlands now.”
She nodded, “I am not marrying a King, I am marrying a blacksmith who just so happens to have a crown.”
His hands came up and cupped her face, “You truly mean it? This isn’t some dream that will disappear in the morning when I wake up?”
“I will be here, there is no where else I want to be.” She promised him, hoping he could see the love reflected in her eyes.
“What about your family?”
“You are my family stupid.”
He smiled at her for a moment before he leaned down at kissed her. This kiss was so different than the ones they shared before. There was no rush behind their actions as their had been the first night and no breaking heart in her chest as their had been when she’d turned down his proposal. This kiss was gentle, and loving, it was a kiss that promised of many more to come.
The Stormlands prospered under the reign of the new Storm King and his Queen, the wild wolf. The real wolves returned to the lands as well, a huge pack roamed the region, and it was rumored that a massive she-wolf lead them. The smallfolk had nothing to fear, for their Wolf Queen would keep the creatures under control. The King created new reforms, giving the smallfolk more opportunities and it wasn’t long before the Stormlands’ coffers began to grow with increased trade, especially when it came to the quality of their weapons. The Stormlands were content in the hands of the blacksmith king and the wolf queen.