Chapter Text
I need a change of scenery, Robert wrote. There is too much of that bitch in this keep, and I need to leave for a few moons. I have instructed my castellan and staff to do a thorough cleaning and redecorating in my absence. It has been too long since we have seen each other and Winterfell is far enough away for me to forget about home for a while. Gendry is coming with and we will be leaving in the morning.
Ned sighs, setting the parchment down. “Cat,” he says, “Robert is coming for a visit. He’s bringing Gendry.”
“I expect he feels he needs to get away for a bit after that unpleasantness with Cersei,” Catelyn Stark replies, picking up the message and reading it.
“That’s what he says, and for once, I believe him,” he says. “I know she didn’t break his heart, but his pride has taken quite the blow. I don’t blame him for wanting to get away.”
“Well, I just hope he doesn’t get drunk and pass out in the crypts in front of your sister's stature again,” she says, heading towards the doors. “I will see to it that rooms are prepared. When do you think they will be here?”
“Within a moon’s time, I would guess,” he answers. “It will be a small party so they should be able to travel swiftly.”
xXx
Riders are spotted a few weeks after the message arrives, and the available members of House Stark assemble in the courtyard to greet them.
Robert somehow manages to swing his bulky form out of his saddle and onto the ground. Beside him, his son Gendry dismounts much more gracefully. Like his father, Gendry is tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. Unlike his father, Gendry’s bulk is comprised of solid muscle. He is a few inches taller than his father, making him an impressive figure indeed.
“Ned!” Robert exclaims, striding to greet his friend. They clasp arms as knights before embracing as brothers. “It’s bloody cold up here,” he immediately complains.
“Come now, Robert, it’s not even winter. You should be grateful,” Ned replies with a chuckle. “And Gendry, you’ve grown into a fine young man.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Gendry responds with a deferential nod.
“The last time I saw you, you only reached your father’s shoulder, and now you are taller than him by a hand’s width,” Ned says as Robert steps over to greet Catelyn.
“Lady Catelyn,” Robert says. “Always a pleasure. You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”
“That is a lie, but I thank you for it,” Cat replies, offering her hand for him to kiss before turning to Gendry. “Gendry, it is lovely to see you again.”
“My lady,” he says, kissing her hand. “I thank you for your hospitality.”
“It is no trouble at all,” she answers with a smile.
“You of course remember Robb,” Ned says, gesturing to his eldest son. “This is his wife, Jeyne of House Westerling.”
Robert clasps arms with Robb and kisses Jeyne’s hand.
“Where are the rest of your children?” Robert asks.
“Well, Sansa is in Highgarden with her husband, as you know,” Ned answers. “Arya, Brandon, and Rickon should be at their studies, but I suspect that may not entirely be the case. And of course Jon is at the Wall.”
“Strange choice, that,” Robert grunts. “Boy could be the king, and he chooses the Wall.”
“He chose the Wall because he does not want to be King,” Ned explains. “And Queen Daenerys is doing a fine job, so there’s no need to call attention to his parentage.”
Robert tilts his head in resigned acknowledgment. “I was hoping he was still here. I should have liked to have seen him spar with Gendry. Word is your nephew is an excellent swordsman.”
“Robb is almost as good, so you will just have to settle for him,” Ned says, laughing.
“Wha—Hey!” Robb shouts a sputtering protest.
“All the children will be present at dinner,” Cat speaks up, redirecting the conversation. “Excepting Sansa and Jon, of course.”
“Come, we will show you to your rooms,” Ned says, extending an arm to usher them inside. A small retinue of servants trail after them, carrying their belongings.
xXx
“Gendry, you were just a lad when you were last here,” Ned says once his guests are settled in. “Would you like a tour?”
“Yes, that would be nice, thank you, Lord Stark,” Gendry answers.
“Robert, will you be joining us?” Ned asks.
“Only as far as the crypts,” Robert says. “I should like to pay my respects to your dear sister.”
“Of course,” Ned replies, watching carefully to make sure Robert doesn’t grab the bottle of wine from the table as he passes. He doesn’t want a repeat of the last time he visited the crypts.
Luckily, Robert doesn’t seem to notice the bottle sitting there as he strides past.
Ned takes them all around the keep, leaving Robert in the crypts below halfway through. Gendry’s tour concludes in the great hall, which is starting to be prepared for their dinner.
Doors creak open and the two men turn to see two slender figures enter, laughing and playfully roughhousing. They are carrying bows and quivers of arrows, and look like they have been out hunting.
“Ah, two more of my children,” Ned says with a smile, watching them approach.
“Brandon and Rickon?” Gendry asks, looking closely at the pair.
“I’m Arya, you lout,” Arya replies, pulling her cap off. Two brown braids drop down, falling just past her shoulders.
“Arya!” Ned admonishes.
“F-forgive me, my lady,” Gendry stammers, too surprised to be offended. She is dressed in men’s clothing and covered in dirt, but now that she is closer he can see that she is definitely not a boy but instead a young woman, not too much younger than he is.
“Don’t call me that,” she automatically snaps before stomping over to one of the tables, where she drops her bow and arrows and plops down on the bench.
“You were half right, my lord,” Rickon says, his words overlapping his sister’s protest. “Rickon Stark,” he introduces himself, extending a hand.
“I am pleased to meet you,” Gendry says, shaking the boy’s hand. He must be about 13 years of age, gangly with unruly auburn hair and a spotty face that is still red from the crisp wind outside.
“Me too,” Rickon replies. “We’ll have to spar sometime. I’ve just started my knight’s training and need to practice against as many different people as I can.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Gendry agrees. “Have you ever fought against a warhammer?”
Rickon’s eyes widen. “No, I haven’t.”
Gendry grins. “Well, you may get an opportunity,” he says.
“Isn’t that the same weapon your father—”
“Rickon, I believe it is time for your lessons,” Ned interjects, knowing Gendry doesn’t like being compared to his father
“Oh. Right. I need to wash up first,” Rickon says. Then he dashes away without another word.
“Boy never stops moving,” Ned mutters, then turns to look at Arya, who is still sitting at the table, adjusting something on her bow. He pointedly clears his throat, and she either doesn’t hear him or is deliberately ignoring him.
“Arya,” he prompts. Pointedly.
Gendry watches her, trying not to be amused as she attempts to stop herself from rolling her eyes before standing, marching over, and extending her hand, palm-down, as she gracefully curtseys. “I am enchanted to meet you, my lord,” she says in an overly sweet voice that is dripping with sarcasm. Even her curtsey, while perfect, seems to be mocking him.
He bends and kisses her offered hand anyway. “The honor is mine, my la—” He stops himself. “What should I call you, then?”
She pulls her hand back. “My name will suffice. Arya.”
“As you wish, my lady,” he responds, enjoying her scowl just before she turns on her heel and stalks from the hall, grabbing her things as she passes the table.
“She’s actually a wonderful girl,” Ned says. “Kind, honest, and smarter than all of us. Just not much for formalities.”
“Obviously,” Gendry observes, staring after Arya. When she came closer to him, he could see that she is quite pretty, even through the dirt. How could I have mistaken her for a boy?
xXx
After dinner, Eddard and Robert retire to Ned’s solar.
“Ned,” Robert says as he heavily sits in a chair in front of the fire, “do you remember the night before you were wed to Cat?”
“Some of it,” Ned answers, handing a goblet to his friend before sitting in the other chair. “I seem to recall you getting me well into my cups. I don’t think I’ve been that drunk since.”
“Do you recall this?” Robert asks, pulling out a very worn-looking piece of parchment.
“You still have that?” Ned asks, taking the small scrap and looking at it.
When we have children, one of Robert’s will marry one of Ned’s.
Robert Baratheon
Eddard Stark
“Of course. It is a written agreement. A contract.”
Ned sets it on the table between them. “You aren’t serious. This is why you came?”
“I am quite serious. And it is one of the reasons I came,” Robert says. “I am frankly surprised you don’t think it should be taken seriously. You have always been the honorable one.”
“Well, yes, honor is very important to me, but… we were drunk when we wrote that… we had no idea…”
“I have a son. You have a daughter. Two, in fact. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t join our families. Two of the great houses of Westeros, united. An unbreakable alliance,” Robert says.
“I don’t deny that it is a sound idea. You just… took me by surprise. Especially since it has been over twenty years. I think that could be why I am so surprised. You could have brought this up at any time after Sansa was born,” Ned replies.
“Cersei would have pushed for Joffrey to marry one of your girls, and I wanted it to be Gendry. He’s the firstborn, and Joffrey has always been an insufferable cunt,” Robert says. “And if I am being honest, I did have your Sansa in mind for him, but since that is not possible—”
“If you say ‘Arya will have to do’ I will punch you in the face,” Ned interjects.
Robert’s eyes widen. He had forgotten that Arya was Ned’s unspoken favorite. “No, no, I don’t mean that at all! Arya is… well, she’s something, isn’t she?” he says, his voice turning wistful. “She looks more like my sweet Lyanna every time I see her.”
Ned sighs. “She was never your Lyanna, and I’m not sure the word sweet is appropriate for her either.”
“What was she then?”
“She was wild. A wild beauty. But you never allowed yourself to acknowledge that wildness and it is a good thing you failed in wooing her for that reason alone. You would have made her miserable.”
“I would not! I loved her! She was beautiful and free and fearless!”
“Yes, and you would have squashed that free and fearless nature by keeping her in Storm’s End like a trophy while you fucked babies into her!”
Robert stares at his old friend, shocked. He’s never heard Ned talk like that.
“Arya is… special. I have had many offers for her and have turned them all down. Why should I entertain this one?” Ned asks.
“You promised. It’s right here,” Robert taps the parchment with his fat finger.
“Pretend that doesn’t exist for a moment. I need to know that Gendry will accept Arya as she is and not try to change her. Because if he tries to change who she is, she’ll run. Or worse,” Ned says.
“Worse?” Robert asks.
“She carries a sword and knows how to use it,” Ned explains.
“I see,” Robert replies. He takes a long drink, then sighs. “The boy is nothing like me,” he quietly admits. “Oh, he looks like me plenty and even wields a warhammer like me. Better than me; better than I ever did, in fact. And he has the Baratheon temper, but… but I’ve never seen him loose it on anyone apart from me. Even Joffrey never received the full brunt of his rage.” He looks up at Ned. “I know he will never hurt Arya. I know he will be good to her.”
“That is all well and good, but will he let her be herself?” Ned asks. “She won’t be the perfect little lady her mother is or her sister will be. She will want to ride and wear breeches and keep training with her sword. She will not be content to stay inside and do needlepoint and squeeze out pups. But she will be a good leader if Gendry treats her as a partner instead of property. She’s smart. I’ve never seen anyone better with sums than her. And she’s kind, especially to the smallfolk. But if you cross her, you will regret it.”
“I think he will,” Robert says. “He seemed to be enjoying her company at dinner tonight just fine. Doesn’t seem bothered by her unconventional ways.”
Ned slowly nods, remembering how Gendry seemed to intentionally sit beside Arya at dinner, and the first thing he did was apologize again for mistaking her for Brandon. Every time he looked over at the two of them, they seemed to be conversing amiably. He even heard Arya laugh a few times.
“I’ll have to talk to Cat about this,” he finally says.
“So you agree?” Robert asks.
“If Cat consents… yes, I agree,” Ned answers. “The hard part will be convincing Arya.”
xXx
Ned quietly creeps into his bedchamber some time later, tired and not as drunk as Robert would have liked.
“You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” Catelyn says, her voice low and clear in the dark room.
“I was trying not to wake you,” he replies.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she says, sitting up. “Light a candle, for goodness’ sake.”
Ned does so, giving the room just enough illumination for him to navigate.
“What is it?” Cat asks, sensing the heaviness hanging about her husband.
“Robert wants Arya to marry Gendry.”
There is a beat of silence before she asks, “What?”
Ned sits on the edge of the bed and tells his wife about the old parchment and the agreement they made.
Catelyn doesn’t bother telling him that he isn’t obligated to honor that agreement. She knows that is futile. She also knows that her youngest daughter is a difficult match. They have had plenty of offers, but none of them are from people who actually know Arya and know what marrying her would entail.
Gendry has only just met Arya, but Lady Stark could not help noticing that he seemed to like her in spite of her idiosyncrasies and unconventional ways. She could not help noticing that he chose to sit beside her at dinner. That he engaged her in conversation and appeared to enjoy talking with her. That he laughed and made her laugh.
Yes, this could be a good match.
“I approve of this match, but you know Arya will resist,” she finally says.
“I do. We shall talk with her about this tomorrow morning,” he says, standing and resuming preparing for bed.
Cat sighs, then says, “I think it may be best if you speak to her without me. You know how she resists anything I suggest.”
“Are you certain?” Ned asks
“Yes. If anyone can get her to see reason on this subject, it is you,” she answers with a sigh.
“Don’t be sad, Love,” he says, slipping into bed. He leans over and kisses her cheek. “Arya loves you, you know this.”
“I know. But she doesn’t always like me,” she responds. “We are simply too different.”
“You’re more alike than you think,” he says. “You are the strongest women I know.”
“Thank you, Ned.”