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Beauty was the ugliest damn animal Arya had ever laid eyes on.
“Come on, you big beast.” she cursed, putting her shoulder against the side of the mule and giving a shove. Beauty turned her long face around and stared at Arya with a stupid expression, unmoving.
“No, no, she won’t do it if you talk to her like that.” said Gendry, tossing down his axe and coming to the aid of his mule. “Here, sweetling. Pull the cart.” he crooned, his tone suspiciously similar to the one he used to wheedle Arya out of a bite of her dessert.
Arya had never seen so much expression on that animal’s dumb face but if a mule’s face could light up, Beauty’s did when Gendry spoke, and her giant ears perked toward the sound of his voice. There was a lightness to her hooves when she stepped forward, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when one of those big, splayed, plate-sized feet came down on Arya’s boot.
She was still cradling her bruised foot when Gendry came back a while later, with the wagonload of wood gone and ready for another. Arya eyed Beauty warily.
“I think she’s in love with you. She’s trying to kill me off so she can have you to herself.” she accused.
Gendry patted the creature’s nose affectionately. “Both my girls know how to share nicely, don’t they?”
“Look at her smug expression-
“Are you jealous of the mule, Arya?”
“No!” she lied.
“Come here. I’ll pat your nose if you’d like.” he teased, making a grab for her as she passed. It wasn’t her nose he was aiming to pat.
Arya easily dodged him and grabbed an armful of wood and tossed it into the back of the cart. “The bull and the mule. I wish Tom O’Sevens was here. There’s a song waiting to be written about the two of you.”
Gendry tied off the reins and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her even though she tried to shrug him away.
“Don’t be like that, sweetling. I’ve got some nice oats for you in the stable, and I’ll brush your coat until it gleams.” he joked. Arya elbowed him in the ribs, but she was laughing. He kissed her then, his lips sweet and smiling, and she’d almost forgotten about the mule until a long black and brown nose came down to rest on his shoulder.
“Beauty, no. Wait your turn, darling.” he scolded, gently shoving her big muzzle away.
Arya made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “Why’d you call her that anyway?”
The truth was that they had found the mule in the burned out shell of a holdfast three days after Arya had said she loved him for the first time, and everything had seemed beautiful to him then; even a ribby scarred up mule. That mule meant that Arya wouldn’t have to limp along on her sore ankle any longer, that when they reached wherever they were going that they’d have a way to haul supplies for rebuilding and to turn the ground for planting. Beauty was the key that they needed to start a new life together, and in that moment she had been the prettiest animal he’d ever laid his eyes on.
But Arya would have laughed if he told that tale.
“I didn’t want the other mules to tease her. It’s working, isn’t it?”
“There aren’t any other mules.” Arya pointed out but Gendry only shrugged at her, slapped Beauty on the neck affectionately and took an armful of wood to drop in the back of the cart.
Arya just rolled her eyes. “You’re soft in the head. Both of you.”