Hello people! Welcome to chapter 4 of my story! I'm glad people are enjoying it so far, and this will go on for a long time.
So, as I mentioned before, Gendry is going to be my POV at the Wall, but I wanted to give him a sort introduction before we get to Castle Black, so I'm giving him a short POV here before moving him to the Wall.
I should also add that in terms of timelines, I'm going to be using one I found here: ?/topic/84563-most-precise-asoiaf-timeline-in-existence/
As you can see, the Royal Family was in Winterfell for the better part of a month.
Moving on then!
Gendry had come north with the royal party as a guest of Prince Steffon. Why a Prince would take any interest in him was beyond his knowledge, but he did not question. For the first time in years he had a full stomach each night.
When he had first heard the announcement about Steffon and Arya's betrothal, he thought the two of them would be jumping for joy. Instead the mood between them was . . . frosty to say the least. They avoided each other like the plague and when they did see each other, they barely talked. Lady Arya in particular was taking the whole situation very badly; she was becoming increasingly callous towards Septa Mordane and her sister Lady Sansa.
The Prince for his part, was somewhat more passive, though it was still noticeable. He would mope around the castle crestfallen, almost like a lost puppy. Gendry had gotten the impression that while the Prince didn't mind being betrothed to Arya, he was less than happy with Arya's reaction.
Gendry shook himself out of his thoughts, and went back to polishing the sword Steffon had requested he make. Gendry had apprenticed in King's Landing under the renowned blacksmith Tobho Mott, but had encountered a Night's Watch recruiter in a Flea Bottom tavern one night. It was at that moment Gendry decided that there was only so much he could do as a blacksmith. He wanted to safeguard the realm from the Wildlings, he wanted to prove that he could be something more than a King's Landing blacksmith.
So when the Prince had requested his presence on the journey north, Gendry took him up on his offer; informing the Prince that he intended to join the Night's Watch no later than a week after the Royal Family's arrival in Winterfell. The reason for this being he wanted to get some combat training under his belt before he left. They'd been there for five days, and he'd been training with Lord Stark's Captain of the Guard, Jory Cassel for at least 3 hours each day.
That was, until the Prince had asked for this sword to be made. When Gendry was handed the design, he instinctively knew it as a Braavosi weapon, but why in the world would the Prince want a Braavosi weapon? Gendry shook his head. It's not mine to ask, he thought.
"Gendry, how much longer?" Asked Steffon, walking into the smithy.
"Not much longer. Just putting on the finishing touches now." Gendry replied. "You sure this is a good idea? I mean, she's not exactly been passive . . ."
"I'm sure. Hopefully, she won't decide to carve my heart out with it, but you never know." Steffon said, smiling slightly. At that moment, Gendry finished the sword.
"There, my Prince. It's ready for Lady Arya. I'll just fetch the scabbard . . ." Gendry said, finding the scabbard and sliding the blade into it before handing it to Steffon.
"You're leaving tonight, aren't you Gendry?"
"Yeah, I've been training under Lord Stark's Guard Captain every day since we got here, and I've also forged my own sword. Here, take a look." Said Gendry, taking the sword he had finished forging yesterday off the weapon rack, and showing it to Steffon. It was indeed a beautiful weapon, but looked very deadly too.
"Fine work Gendry. I have no doubt it'll serve you well on the Wall."
"Thank you my Prince, and good luck."
"You too, Gendry, you too."
After getting directions from Robb and Jon, Steffon found his way to Arya's chambers. Hoping she didn't decide to kill him on the spot, he gently knocked on her door.
"Lady Arya, it's Steffon. We really need to talk about this. I didn't ask our fathers for this-"
"Why should I believe you?" Arya said from behind the door. Steffon sighed.
"I can't give you any reason to believe me. You'll just have to."
"Not exactly a compelling reason is it?"
"Look, can I please just come in? We need to talk about this, and you're smart enough to know that." Steffon said. Behind the door, Arya was still fuming, but realised that he had a point. Even if it was just to talk to the fathers and get them to cancel the betrothal, they had to talk about it. Reluctantly, she opened the door to see Steffon holding what appeared to be a sword in its scabbard. She was puzzled as to why he had it, but decided not to ask.
"You know I don't believe you when you say you had nothing to do with this, right?" Arya asked rhetorically.
"I know, but I really don't. No-one bothered to consult me or you on this, so can we please cut the shit?" Steffon asked. Arya's jaw dropped for a second at hearing the prince swear so casually. She hadn't expected him to be foul-mouthed, but again, he had a point. The very fact that he had shouted with shock and indignation at the feast when their betrothal was announced seemed to imply that he had little to no knowledge of what was being planned.
"Fine. I'm not happy about this arrangement" She said
"Yeah I got that impression. Look, Arya, I think the reason my father wants us betrothed is because we remind him of himself and your aunt Lyanna when they were young." Steffon replied. Arya did have to admit, she had overheard her father telling her mother that she was Lyanna's spitting image; and Steffon did apparently look like a young Robert.
"Well I can see why he'd think that." Said Arya. Steffon, unable to articulate a reply, decided to show her the sword instead.
"Oh, I nearly forgot. I had Gendry make this for you." He said, handing the weapon to her. Arya took it and grabbed the hilt, sliding the blade from the scabbard. "It's a Braavosi design called a smallsword. You can't cleave a man in half with it, but you can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough." He said, as Arya twirled the sword around.
"It's a bit small, isn't it?" Arya asked.
"Hence the term smallsword. It's a good weapon for you now, then when you get older and stronger, you'll be able to wield a one-handed sword and this one as an off-hand weapon for parrying and hitting weak spots. In time, you may even start mixing Braavosi and Westerosi fighting styles and invent your own." He said.
Needless to say, Arya was taken aback by the Prince's display of generosity. Not many people appreciated that she'd rather learn how to fight than be a lady.
"Any advice for me?" she asked.
"Stick'em with the pointy end." He said. They both chuckled at that. After examining the elegant weapon for a few more moments, she looked up at Steffon and gave a genuine smile.
"Sansa can keep her sewing needles, I've got a needle of my own." She said.
"There's your name for it: Needle."
"Not a bad idea, Steffon." Arya said. She was genuinely happy with her gift and Steffon for giving it to her. Steffon turned around to leave and had opened the door when Arya stopped him. "Steffon, wait." She said, before setting Needle down and enveloping him in a tight hug. "Thank you Steffon" She said. For his part, Steffon was slightly shocked by the sudden display of affection. After a moment of shock, he returned the hug. They stood like that for a while, lost in the hug.
Unbeknownst to them, a rather jealous Sansa had witnessed the last part of the exchange. She scoffed silently at it, not believing that Steffon and Arya would even talk to each other. It seemed that her original plan to use Steffon and Arya's lack of affection to get her father to reconsider her and Joffrey's betrothal was scuppered. She walked off, still in a huff.
Meanwhile, in the back of Steffon and Arya's minds, they both felt the situation was getting a bit awkward. The broke apart rather quickly.
"So . . . um . . . I should go." Said Steffon.
"Yeah . . . I mean . . . of course." Arya replied haltingly. As Steffon left, both of them were wearing big smiles on their faces.
The next morning found Bran Stark climbing the walls of Winterfell once more. He just wanted to climb one more time before he stopped forever and went to squire for Ser Barristan the Bold, of all people! His hero!
As he ascended the tower, he could . . . moaning? That puzzled him. He decided to climb further to investigate, and saw two people in the middle of having sex. He didn't entirely recognise the man, but the Queen's face was unmistakable. She saw him at that moment.
"Stop! Stop!" She shrieked. Bran tried to climb down, only for the man to pull him back to the window.
"Are you completely mad?" Asked the man, rhetorically. Bran now recognised him as Ser Jaime Lannister, the Queen's brother. But wait, thought Bran, if they're siblings . . . and they were doing that . . . then that means . . . oh Gods.
"He saw us" said the Queen. Jaime tried to reassure him, but Bran was still scared stiff. "He saw us!" She shouted.
"I heard you the first time." Jaime replied. He then turned to Bran. "Quite the little climber aren't you? How old are you boy?" He asked.
"12" Bran replied, still frightened.
"12?" Said Jaime, before letting go of Bran. Jaime and the Queen stared at each other for a few moments before he spoke up again. "The things I do for love." He said, before pushing Bran from the tower.
Dun dun duuuuuun! Okay, so we reach the end of the first act. Stay tuned for chapter 5! Auf wiedersehen!