#malice's sewing adventures
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Making unwise sewing decisions on a deadline; that’s how we roll ✌️🥲
#malice's sewing adventures#do i need to be doing this?#no i do not#i have an outfit i can use for this already#i wore it to the con#has that even given me pause?#also no#why am i like this
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Serenne
Part 16 of Adventure Log+ (sequel to Link's Thought Brambles - much better to read in order, both also on ao3). Warning for strong language and violence. Trigger warning for intense fire.
Disclaimer: The content of this chapter is fiction only, and is not intended to contain advice or instructions for surviving hazardous conditions involving fire.
Master-
Yes, yes-
“Off, off, off, off-”
“I got it, I got it-“ Fi?
I look upon your plan with trepidation.
"Hehehe" What else is new?
"What's funny?!"
"Sorry, Beraya, it's the sword." The last thing I need is Beraya thinking I find her shoulders funny, and yeah, Fi, I know-
The moisture is a double-edged sword.
"Kh- shh, Tass."
Zelda already made us swear not to run into the flames. It'll give us some extra time in the heat, act like sweat, and some of it will be gone from the wind before we even get there.
Unless something surprises you, master. Fire is unpredictable, and the heat capacity of water can be deceptive.
Look, Zelda thinks it's better this way. I'm going with it.
If steam becomes trapped against your skin-
It'll scald. YEAH. I know. There!
“Bloody mail- I needed a refit anyway.”
“You got it, Beraya—soon as we’re back.” Faster, Link, faster for $*#@’s sake!
“Shh, sh sh sh- Tass! Link- perhaps we- kh- oughtn’t ride any further.”
“It’s up to you-“ thereFINALLY- “arms through-“
“Kh.”
“-arms through.“
“Yes sir, I have the rest, I have it!”
“The horses should come back here when we dismount.” I hope.
“They may bolt with us still riding.”
Hope not hope not “They might.”
“NEXT BUCKET!”
“Huiru, Reida.” They better- good they’re listening not that I’d expect them to ride into fire without at least something, something SOMETHING to help, dear Hylia, and at least they already have face cloths, just have to douse them-
“P- princess! We- shouldn’t use these-“
-but it won’t last long-
“Sir Margil, I appreciate the sentiment-“
-not in all that heat.
“-but there are more important things than Link and I’s spare clothing.”
“It feels- like sacrilege.”
“Indeed not. Hylia would much prefer her symbol to keep you safe than for you to perish in the smoke. Think of it...“
To the well, Link, help Cohl, water water water “I got it-“
“...Think of it as a ward protecting you.”
“…Yes, Princess.”
“I got that, Margil.”
“Thanks, Aree.”
“I can’t believe I’m wearing something you sewed with your own hands, Princess.”
“I admit kh- when I fashioned Link’s tunics, I had no expectation of their being used as facemasks. Ah- but please, don’t fret, Sir Liff khm-khm.”
Zelda’s susceptible. She coughed a lot at Miss Morsels’ too. Not that I think that stench was as nasty as smoke. “Princess- I again recommend-“
“That I remain with Sirs Bennent and Lahs, and I again decline, Link.”
Amazing she can smile at me in all this, I don’t think I have it in me. “I figured.” Nope- smile failure. “I had to ask. Beraya, your turn!”
“Yes, sir.”
Sitting, good, she’s taller than me.
“Ah!”
“More, Cohl.”
“Coming, Sir Link!” “I’m done, I can help.”
“Thanks, Daile.”
“Get the horses, too.”
“D- damn. Yeah.”
It feels like hours but it’s been minutes, only minutes, how many people are dying while we do this?
Lucky there’s no malice here, unlucky no surface water, only a deep well but the people ran and that’s good, good, stalls empty, no horses, no walking corpses, no corpses at all, no-
“Link?”
“All good.” Stop brooding, Link, you’re not helping anyone, more water- “You’re next, Princess.”
“Khh.”
“I’m done!”
Varniro “Good, help with the horses.”
“Yes sir!”
Here I go dunking my last tunic in water it’s for her for her I don’t know why I feel this matters but I do. “Okay, Z- hold this- get ready.”
"Not the socks."
"Heh. No, not the socks." I don't want to know what boiling water feels like in my boots, either.
Face crinkled, I always like that face on her. “Look up- yeah.” Hair wet, get every fricking inch of her clothing, careful, just barely wet the bandage outside only outside only. Wet bandages bad news…
“You good, Cohl?”
“I got some slopped on me pulling it up so fast. Top’s not there yet.”
“I got you.”
Liff and Cohl look out for each other. Good.
“I believe that’s sufficient, Link.”
“I want you soaked.” …Oh s$&%, Link.
.
Keep pouring the water, keep pouring it, clearly no one gives a crap or possibly even noticed your ridiculous slip.
…Except Zelda. A single-eyebrow raise. She’ll tease me later. I hope. Later. Hope for that.
“I’m good!”
“Me too, Sir.”
“Alright, almost there- get the horses as best you can. Manes and tails especially, but we won’t take them all the way in. They’ll run after that. Lahs- Bennent- I’m serious. You see something headed your way that’s not us, you retreat immediately and at full speed. Make for the logging village if you can- get word to the castle faster. If something cuts you off, head to the Royal Lab. Got it?
“Got it, sir.” “Yes, sir.”
Link. Look them in the eye. “If not…“
“We’ll bring his body back, sir.”
“…Yes. Thanks. Oereb’s family will thank you, too.”
Zelda’s face. Wish I could hold her now.
Oh. My turn. Just nod, let Margil get you.
“Kh-kh.”
Feels good. Not clean exactly. But maybe a little less disgusting than I was.
“Your bandage, Sir.”
“Yeah.” Hand over it should be good enough. Pat some water… just on the outside.
“Alright…”
Less good now with the water in my pants. That’s going to chafe. Priorities priorities priorities.
Good to have my eyes closed. Just for… a minute.
“Eh- hey, Reida, could you help me with this?”
“Ah- ah. Yes, alright.”
…Snobbish.
“… Uh. Thanks.”
That’s how they seem to me, but maybe I’m biased, they answer to other Sheikah, not to me, Zelda, too, ideally, but they seem not to take her orders seriously in combat like they think they know better and maybe they’re right but I don’t think so, I think they f$(#ed up with those riders, Zelda, Zelda was right, they should’ve broken off, let her fire.
Maybe I’ll talk to herOH more pants water- later. About them. See if she agrees. “Think I’m good. Thanks, Margil.”
“You’re welcome, Sir.”
Pretty sure Zuho would’ve jumped to help us prep, not stood around being watchful with his nose up in the air, he’s not like them. She’s surrounded by us, this is not the time to stand still, this is the time for speed, speed, oh. Facecloth. “Thanks again.”
And the buckets have stopped. “Ready?”
“Yes Sir!” “Yes.” “Ready.” “Ready, Sir!”
Nods, nods. “Princess?”
“…Mount. We ride-“
Horse horse
“-as close as the horses will allow.”
Good boy- sorry.
“We go the rest of the way on foot- at a run.”
About your rider.
“We enter Serenne if at all possible.”
So, so sorry.
“We slay any monsters.”
I wonder... if you understand.
“If our kh- enemy is the fire itself, we shall help them fight it.”
It hasn’t hit me yet.
“If the blaze is too fierce, we shall evacuate all we can instead.”
But when it does-
“We remain together unless Link or I order otherwise-"
-it’ll be like always.
“-and we avoid extreme heat, smoke, and flame. Onward!”
I’ll have another hole inside. “Everyone ride astride each other. Hup, boy!”
“Go, Tass!” “Hyah!” “Hyup-“ “Hhh.”
A hole where the first person died under my command.
Zelda. Beside me.
I don’t want her back exposed even to our own soldiers.
And there’s a shudder. Our own soldiers. Vayden and Carok guy.
I want to know someone really Goddess-damned well before I let them have a clear shot at Zelda’s back. Or mine, for that matter, but at least if it’s me I’ll react fast. Not that she isn’t fast…
But I’ve never seen her do the Thing. Better to assume she can’t.
-----
My Goddess. The south's all but an inferno, what happened here?
“So much!”
I’ve never, never heard Beraya like that before-
“TASS!”
NONONO
“Easy!”
OFFLinkoff
“Easy, easy, good boy-“
gethisreins!
“Good, good Tass!”
“Hey hey hey hey shh- Tass-“ got him
“Kh- khh-“
got him “shh- shhhhh” soothe him Link “shh-“ just enough give her a few seconds “shh, shh, easy- easy-“ he is so done, rolling eyes- “dismount, everyone- now- yes- gooood boy, good, easy-“ she’s off let go lethimgo-
Good they’re all off “On FOOT! We GO!”
She’s alright she’s so fast like me running beside me and Dear Goddess it's warm even here! In there the plate mail would’ve baked half of us alive and even the water won’t last us long-
“Khh.”
-amazing the horses got us so close to the treeline they’re not lit here not yet outer edge dark silhouettes monsters? Trees bushes rocks maybe or crouching things could be could be do I see horns
“AAAAAAAH!”
“Link!”
“Yes!” Screaming where where nothing nothing nothing nothing
“SPEED!”
“Yes, Princess!” “Ahhh!” “Gh.” “Mkh.” “Kh- kh kh- khh“
Coughing more, please, please don’t let her drop-
“AAAH! AAAAHHHH!” “KHHHHGH.”
“THAT WAY!”
Does she see them does she I SEE “THERE!” MoblinmoblinmoblinnoFASTERLINK NO YEHHHHHS ZELDA GO DOWN GO DOWN
“IT YET LIVES!”
It does but an arrow through its eye gave that kid seconds he needed and now Terial, Aree, great shots, it must be a red, it’s on its knees already and LIFF, yes, he’s fast too and- there goes its throat.
“You hurt?!”
Kid’s shocked he’s shocked answer Liff come on
“I- I- I h- ad to come back!”
Crying.
“We are here to kh- help- what happened?”
Zelda- he may not be able to
“Here- I got you.“
Kid’s filthy and shaking but seems sturdy enough now Liff pulled him up.
“They- they told us to run, but I had to come back! Something’s wrong- at the next farm, too, everyone’s just waiting in the wheat-“
Everyone.
“-and there’s not enough water and we could see the fire got worse!”
The other kids. “How did this start?”
“Monsters. They just- came. Out of nowhere-“
“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”
…What was that?
“Oh, F$*%.”
“Daile?”
“Sir- Princess- that sounds like a lynel.”
“Your dad-“
“Yes, sir.”
“Princess?”
“We go. In.”
And fast, my Goddess-
“Kid, go back. The others have horses?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Don’t lose those.”
Liff’s sharper
“The horses want to bolt,”
than I gave him credit for.
“you’re better off on them than not, alright?”
Nod, Link, he has spooked-face
“Y- yeah.”
like he thinks he might’ve overstepped.
“Just- go and don’t come back here- ah-“
I really, really don't mind, people can't be constantly asking me about everything.
“-unless someone you trust fetches you. And-“
Unless he tells the kid to do something stupid.
“-if you see anything off, just run. Uh…”
And Liff’s looking at me.
“Khhh.”
Because which way? Which way is safe? “…Head south by southeast so you’d just barely scrape the farm at the foot of Salari hill in that direction. Then… make for the royal lab.” They can defend themselves better than the logging village, so… safer… maybe.
“O- okay.”
Didn’t have to tell him twice. He’s scared to s#$&… wait, shuffling chuchu LEAP Linkwhathe- “Rkh!”
“Ah!” “Move, kid!” “Move!” “Gkh!”
GONNA POP BACKBACKBACK LINK, BACK OFF
“Eh-“ “Ff-“ “Blasted-“ “Move, move!” “Fire-”
Fire chuchus here?! “In- in, everyone, the town! Go, kid!”
Watch him go watch him go, DAMN the wood’s dry pine needles like flammable fricking carpet, back up "Back up, back up!" watch the kid they’ll pull ahead but I’ll catch up almost almost almost trees he’s out all you can do Link you can’t escort him all the way back and if there’s anyone left alive in the town they’re in just as much danger and more
“There!”
Her eyes so good there it is a boko-
“QUEHEKYUEEE!”
Varniro Genenko careful bad shield arm
“GRK!” “QYEEHEEEE! K-“
GOOD.
Red. DownMORE
“KGGGH.” “KHG.”
They always sound so disgustingly happy
“Gh- ah!”
Happy to maim- Margil
“Ghg!”
Good skewered blue not dead-
“Akk!”
-now it is.
Happy to kill, too.
Not like Margil.
His face is not happy right now. Bokos smile when they kill.
“They are kh- here awaiting those who flee.”
“…Yeah.” I hope there are people left to run.
There’s more I see them waiting on the road at the edge of the houses some behind moblins those are moblins three red blue blue, at least two bokoblins, horns, little horns sticking up show them-
Yes. Shh- there they are. One two three- four five. Eyes out. Look. All of you scan. Zelda?
They- are- looking- inward. We quiet, we surprise them. Yes. Good.
Spread out.
No- Zelda. Stay with me.
Liff and Cohl again. Good. Huiru creeping crouched, Terial with Margil- Aree with Beraya, Daile with Genenko, Varniro with Reida, a pair, okay. Huiru’s alone but he clearly has a method.
Six pairs. Five monsters. So far.
We’ve got THAT one.
Sh sh sh… she knows. She knows. Quiet. The fire’s loud, but- doesn’t mean it couldn’t hear us at all, a snapping branch, a cough-
…please don’t cough.
Hot. Even here. Hot. Smoke. Careful. Pay attention to your skin, Link-
I will endeavor to notify you of any sudden changes in your skin, master, but I have no method by which to measure your surroundings.
Thank you.
Her fists just balled.
She wants to cough.
Hurry, hurry, the flames, hiding the footsteps, careful but quick careful but quick-
Closercloser right in the back the spine wait for it, for the others.
Zelda- yes. Turn. Face out. Watch my back. I watch yours.
They’re- almost- nowTHROUGH
“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHH!”
“RRGHT!” “QUEKEHHH!” “QUORHHIEWHE!” “KGHR?”
Almost all Daile Beraya Liff got theirs where’s Huiru
“KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!”
Varniro’s he didn’t surprise it but they’ve got it
“QHWEHHH!”
MORE “MORE!” Main road, there! She’ll follow you Link, go take it out, it's hot but you're okay-
Fighting I hear it on the edges monsters at the next two roads too they have it trust them THIS one- “HhhaaHH!”
“QHEEHKHH!” “Kh-“
“Kh- khmkhm-“
StaybackZelda I’vegotit “Grk- hh!” the armpit slice it can’t raise its shield SLICE- THRUST
Down.
“Kh- hh. The smoke.”
“I know. I know, I’m so sorry- Zelda- it’s your dec-“
“We keep going.”
I thought so but heat smoke “ON RIGHT!”
Sheturned heardboots it’s breathinghard but didn’tgrowl feet loud anyway SLIDE underitsguardLinkSHINSyes
“GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!”
Yeahthathurtdidn’tit Zelda YESOH ROLLLINK
Damn she nailed that but it almost fell on me it’s prone proneTHRUST- THRUST
Dead? D-NO THRUST-twist-
“Kh-kh-kh.”
Stay still.
Dead- wh?
Margil and Terial
“Another moblin, down!”
Good Terial’s hand on his mask though he feels it the smoke
Goddess if we hadn’t soaked ourselves I’d’ve been soaked by sweat instead and dehydrating fast. How long til it steams off?
Link? You see steaming with your eyes and you grab Zelda and make everyone back the hell off.
Realistically, she'd probably notice it before me.
There are the others. Around the sides of the houses. Here! Yeah, here- let’s not split up. Don’t see Huiru yet… Cohl- Liff. They’re looking, too.
…They don’t see him.
Yeah Cohl, I don’t know either. Just shake your head, Link. Zelda?
“All- kh- together.”
Alright, she’s pointing that way she’s right she’s right less fire we can’t stay in this long south is an inferno north we can at least last a while- Huiru, he should’ve come out over here somewhere anyway, hurry, hurry, but look look look look lots of movement flickering shadows things flapping in the wind from the fire no other people yet not yet- easing, easing it’s not as bad over here, the fire worst in southwest maybe glow and smoke but it’s quieter this way too careful something could hear
“Kh… KH.”
Zelda, is your cloth still wet?
“Link?”
Quietly “Cloth- wet?”
Nodding, good, good- mine is so hers should be too just checking just checking can’t kill smoke with a sword can’t protect her.
Liff and Cohl fell in naturally checking around each house opposite directions it helps we can move faster.
Less and less and less, still hot but cooler here-
Those houses- not flaming-
Zelda?
That’s a yes, we check, Liff and Cohl check that house, Reida and Varniro, check that one everyone else watch watch watch eyes all directions- watch the fire too, embers, it won’t be long they’ll catch
“Khh. Kh.”
It would be insane for someone to hide in a closet or something with fire in the town it shouldn’t be that, either they’re hiding somewhere they can see out or they’re unconscious or dead or the house is just empty
No one moving all up and down road, far as I can see Zelda shaking her head, too-
Bodies? Bodies no bodies they all run?
And-
Head-shakes. Nothing in that house.
Varniro…?
“Kh.”
No. Not that one either.
“Gg- khhh khhhh.”
And Terial’s coughing too and there’s still no Huiru here, two roads over.
Zelda?
I know that jaw- clench. Like right before she gets in the pool at the Cathedral.
“We go.”
Alright. Just point, Link, the less talking the better, that way everyone, west.
Where the fire’s louder maybe talking fine, here just not, lets us breathe through our noses anyway eyes peeled everyone going going going
Behind us?
Nothing.
Beraya- Liff- keep looking back. Okay?
Okay.
flAMES
“Ah!” “FF-“ “S$&#-“ “Kh-“
WOAH that was some pop- Reida looks a little singed but okay, flames more, hotter, some of these houses completely ablaze lucky lucky the paths aren’t too narrow never seen Serenne before wouldn’t’ve known hotter inward we circle circle around where's-
“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”
Lynel
.
Here we all are, hunted deer watching, listening.
It can’t be that close hardly any louder but maybe wrong, never seen a lynel never heard one either if that’s what it is, Daile’s the only one.
Still… listening.
Roaring. Of fire.
I'm dryer already.
More dark houses. Zelda?
That’s a yes and opinion established we check the survivable houses- pairs- Liff, Cohl- Varniro, Reida- Daile, Genenko- Margil, Beraya.
“Sir?”
“Quick, Margil, we’re good- go.”
Can’t say I blame him, I’ve been having them flank Zelda the whole-
“Khh. Kh.”
-time, but speed! Don’t think I should leave the archers out here alone. We stay. We watch. Should I call out? If someone’s hiding they might just come out and if monsters do at least we’re not walking into an ambush, they’d come to usOH no. Oh, Link. Could the lynel hear me if I yell? The fire might drown me out if it’s among it but I just don’t know and we could sure hear it roar- “No shouting?”
“Agreed.”
“Lynel?”
“Yes.”
I concur, master.
You’ve been quiet.
I am endeavoring not to distract you, master.
I… can see why.
I will take this opportunity to notify you your blood oxygenation levels are still within an acceptable range at 99%.
Uh. Good! I bet that would mean more to Zelda, but I can guess…
100% is desirable and indicates excellent breathing. Below 90% is dangerous.
What about Zelda?
I can measure no one’s but yours, master.
Right- right. Let me know if it changes, okay?
I plan to, master.
I bet hers are lower than that.
It is likely everyone’s are lower than yours, master, considering your pristine physical condition. I speculate your associate Terial is suffering most. I recommend removing both him and the Princess from this environment as soon as possible.
Yeah. Me too.
“Kh- kh. Khh.”
.
A few more houses.
“KHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH.”
…I sure couldn’t tell where that came from.
Could be around the corner.
That’s comforting.
“Khhh kh.”
Smoke so thick southward. Even looking down a clear path, hard to see. It… wasn’t that much louder, though.
“Ahm. Ahkhm.”
“Terial, you good?”
“Khhh- akm. Yeah, it- doesn’t agree with me.”
Me either, but it’s getting to him already.
“Kh- kh.”
At least Zelda’s doesn’t seem to be getting worse quick like his.
I think they’re almost done.
A lynel shows up, you don’t let Zelda anywhere near it, Link. You make her run.
Not that I could MAKE her do anything.
But.
“Ahm. Ahehehm.”
Wow. Am I just- falling into old habits or something? She’s right here. “Princess?”
“Yes?”
“Lynel, you leave.”
A long look. Something odd there, something I don’t like. Her eyebrow crease. Can’t see her mouth or nose, but- worried?
“I- understand.”
Wow. Well, good- and Margil and Beraya, also good.
Except also not good-
“Kh.”
-because they’re shaking their heads. “Bodies?”
Oh. No bodies either, so… still good.
Beraya. Squeeze her shoulder, Link.
The others – also coming. Except- no, no, there’s Varniro, too.
Closer. Closer. Okay. “If a lynel surprises us, the Princess is to retreat. Margil and Beraya, you’ll escort her.”
Nods all around.
I’m really amazed she just agreed to it, but-
“Khm. Kh- khm.”
-I’ll take it.
Let’s move. “Cohl- yeah, watch on that edge, Reida on yours.” Corners, corners. “We’ll move a few streets up and start again on the houses. Any of you find bodies?”
“No, sir.” “No.” “No.”
“Two. On- the street that way.”
Don’t let your face fall with your heart, Link. Did you think everyone would escape this hell alive? “…We do this as fast as we can- try to find anyone who’s left.”
“And- kh-kh- discover… where those missing have gone.”
--
Chuchu- Genenko’s got it, he’s got it aaaand one and two- there it goes already back up back up while it pops-
Chuchus do just spring from the ground. Like the… Dead Hands. Is that what happened here? They just sprang up, lit things? OH- “Back!”
Backupbackupbackup thereyougo manhandlingZelda sorry
HOT- "fffff!"
“Akhhhhh- khhhh ghghm.”
Hot…
Damn. Maybe. Fricking chuchu jelly explodes. Probably wouldn’t see it lying around.
Check behind- clear.
“Khh.”
They’re not too hard to kill but you have to know to run when they start puffing up. A good pop or two with a pitchfork and a sprint the other way would do it but of course you’ve set the nearest house on fire.
“Kh- khh.”
Maybe that’s why so few bodies.
It’s inconsistent.
“Ahhghm- dammit.”
Some houses not lit.
Yet.
Could be why. No chuchu pop-ups there.
But fire ones, here? They’re supposed to live in hot places. Eldin. Never thought to ask father. “Hey dad, do fire chuchus REALLY stick only to the slopes of Death Mountain?”
Has he even been to Death Mountain?
“Ah-hm.”
He must’ve- Oh? Waving waving Cohl?
Stop, everyone.
“Khhh khh.”
Okay- Zelda, with me- we’ll look.
Wow. Wow. Yeah, good eye, back-slap for you come on- come on everyone here- the well.
Buckets. Lots of them. Wet. Recently in use, and no bodies. Right? Am I crazy to be happy about this? Zelda?
No, no I’m not crazy because she looks at least a little relieved. Someone was fighting the fire and not that long ago. Lots of someones. That’s- yeah. Cooler here. Less flame.
Slightly less grim faces.
We go- further-careful check each way check, is that a bokoblin tooth? Teeth? A horn? They did fight back and yes that’s another bucket rolling around- another one there… on fire, now…
Back toward the east- anything?
Eyes every way, everyone.
I think I do see a few more monster parts. No people, though.
Alright everyone- yeah- spread on the street again we don’t quite fit I don’t like it Margil, Beraya? Yes, thank you. Princess’ back. This section seems pretty quiet, pretty cleared out, but still…
“Kh- khm. Kh.”
Steam. They doused things. Pump- there. It really can’t’ve been that long ago, can it? Not if we still see it like that.
“Wait.“
“Princess?”
“The pump. We refresh our facecloths while checking the area- quickly!"
“On it!”
Woah “Wait, the handle- hold your hand near it first, Genenko.” He was totally just going to grab it-
“It’s not hot, I’ll try it.”
Oh good.
“Bucket!”
“Thanks, Varniro.”
“Find your pairs.”
“Yes-“ “Yes, Princess-“
Finger to your lips, Link, they’re talking louder… they got the message. Quiet checking of those houses and alleys- oh no. Beraya.
Her face, Link.
Her family’s house- would’ve been southeast. Where the fire was worse.
Zelda?
Beraya.
…Yeah.
She already realized.
Can’t just ignore that, say something, just- quietly- “Beraya?”
Shaking her head. “We couldn’t have.”
“They might’ve got out.”
A strange, small smile.
She thinks they’re probably dead.
And Terial just dunked his whole face in that bucket. Good. He seems to need it more than the rest of- ”SH”$&%! ZELDA CORRALHERCORRALHERSHIELDSHIELD WHERE
Aree! Her arrow through its neck- Terial- Zelda wants to step out and shoot but no, no, that almost hit me and it could hit her, too- damn that thing was quiet. They usually give themselves away with the squealing.
Dead.
“Where the hell did it-”
“The house.”
“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHRRRR.”
I saw her breath catch.
Yes.
Closer, it’s closer, I know. Closer, eyes eyes out Daile?
Daile miming crouch crouch everyone down down LIFF, yes, YOU, DOWN! Zelda I want to just curl up in a ball around her but that won’t help anyone Daile’s looking at me eyes that way eyes that way he says-
There. Far.
But visible. Half turned away from us between houses and the hood on that further well, between smoke.
Okay. My Goddess. That has to be a lynel. Because it’s not a horse. But- it moves almost like one. Bright red mane, way too wide and thick not a horse not one bit.
Move- goodDaileagrees everyonemove STAYDOWN butmove move move move behind the next house holy f#$& don’t turn around now, don’t- face that way face that way face that way Margil Beraya flank Zelda thank you yes- oh. Okay. Daile. Staying crouched behind the well. Looking at me.
Yeah.
He’s right.
We have to take it out.
The mystery of the missing people doesn’t matter much if they can’t come back.
Zelda? I go.
“KKRRRRRGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHRRRR.”
…It’s like the earth’s breath stops when it does that.
I want you completely out of its eyeline or even possible eyeline.
You, Margil, and Beraya… and Liff and Cohl.
Yup.
Shhh!
Glad I saw him about to talk, Holy Hylia this is not the moment to find out how good lynel hearing is.
S&$#. Genenko’s bad arm. He has to stay, too.
You can do this, Link. You can mime.
Genenko- you- Zelda, Margil, Beraya, Liff, and Cohl, you all look for the missing people.
The missing people.
The PEOPLE.
Bucket-people!
Ahhh now you get it.
Okay. Daile. You and me. On point. But- yeah. Agreed. We flank it.
Yeah. You that way. Me this way.
Okay, Link. Your father told you how to fight these. Just- plan. Archers stay at crazy far range if they can and you have to be ready to f$&$ing run. No bunching up. Everyone at different locations.
Terial, my side. Aree, Daile’s side. Varniro, my side. Reida, Daile’s side. Like this. Spread out- Daile, then Reida, then Aree. And for my side, me, then Varniro, then Terial.
I’d tell the archers to take rooftops if there wasn’t fire involved.
There are… more flames by the lynel, too.
And… We can't go into that soaking wet. We'll have water boiling against our skin. Facecloths only, because we have no choice.
And Fi's not arguing with me.
Okay. Everyone- face cloths only.
And of course the pump makes sound. Does the lynel know what a pump sounds like? Does it know that means people?
.
Hopefully not. I don’t hear anything rushing toward us. Still… keep it down, Genenko.
Terial went already- Aree next.
Fi, anything I should know?
Your oxygenation level is unchanged, master. But the area into which you propose to head is inundated with smoke. Your facecloth cannot protect you from asphyxiation, nor from carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulf-
Wait, from what?
Forgive me, master. Harmful gases. Your facecloth cannot filter them. It will protect you from burns and solid particles only.
We have to go.
Agreed.
O- oh.
Did you believe I would argue?
Yeah, kind of.
No, master. The beast must be felled. If one arrow would be sufficient to do so, I would suggest the Princess simply take aim and fire at first opportunity. But the beast would charge, and I believe you wished to avoid that scenario.
Yeah, yeah I did. She’s- she’s not ready for that.
No. She is not.
I… kind of thought you’d argue with me there, too.
…
Ohhh there you go again with one of your weird silences. Only this time I have no clue at all why. At least I usually know what it is you’re trying not to tell me.
Ah- my turn. Damn, I went turned-in-like. That happens sometimes when I talk to you.
Thus my efforts not to distract you, master.
Thanks. For the moment, though… just trying to creep low across the square and use the water.
I don’t see it anymore. It could easily come closer, though, just down another road. The facecloth wow needed that. The water… isn’t cool like well water really should be. It’s warm. But compared to what’s up here, it’s refreshing.
Okay.
Nothing for it.
You all ready?
Everyone’s smart enough to look scared. Probably more than they otherwise would be since they’re not used to fighting unarmored.
Reida almost looks angry. Maybe that’s how she preps herself for a nasty fight.
Or maybe she’s pissed because I assumed she’s willing to take on a lynel. I’m treating her like our own soldiers. But Zelda’s not stopping me, so I think I’m okay to do so for the moment.
Okay. We go. Now.
Try not to worry about Zelda, Link. Small smile. Hey- I managed one this time. Oh- there’s those balled fists again. She’s- struggling. Struggling not to cough.
Please- be okay.
See you soon.
Around the house. Keep watch. Wh- nasty thing- bokoblin heart. Pretty sure I see a moblin horn way far off, too. Wins for the missing people of Serenne. What-
.
Wish- wish I hadn’t seen that. Wonder who it was.
Who they were.
If- we run into monsters and we fight them, it’ll hear us. Daile sure didn’t-
“Kh- m.”
-want us making any sound. Though granted, he’s not the one who fought lynels. It was his father. But seeing a fight happen from far off is better than nothing.
Father did say they have amazing hearing. And eyesight. And sense of smell. That there’s almost no hiding from them, not unless you’re real far away.
Must be why. Why the people are gone. They may all have fled into the trees.
And been slaughtered by the monsters waiting there for them.
Of course. Of course. Line the trees with moblins and bokoblins, where it’s darker and harder to see they’re there, especially the bokoblins that just look like boulders in the dark until you get close. Then send in the lynel and those fire chuchus. Let them light the town up. Let the lynel kill everything in its path and claim the place as its territory, forcing people to run because between it and the fire there’s nothing they can do. Then they get slaughtered in the ring of trees. Boko riders pick off the few who escape to the fields-
The fields. My Goddess. They sent kids there.
And we didn’t kill all the riders, we didn’t, one blew right past us!
“Kh- m- m.”
My Goddess, my Goddess, there’s nothing I can do now nothing I have to find them later have to tell Zelda Goddess forgive me!
The sooner we take this lynel out the sooner we can help them.
The boy was alive. He was alive and he came back to help, right?
He did, right?
…Did he say that’s why?
He didn’t but he went back willingly. Yes. Yes, he said they still had the horses. They were… okay when he left.
Wh-
That’s a Moblin hand sticking out from behind that house.
Look.
Okay. It’s too close to our path, we have to take it out.
Your bow, Link, don’t make Terial cross in front. Here we go. Here we go- there’s its head, turned awayOHit’sturning SHOOT- sunk!
Dammit, LOUD moblin-
.
Varniro bowling it over it’s yelling take it OUT it’s too loud-
“KKRRRRRGGHRRRRRRR.”
The lynel louder did it hear did it hear? It’s not right on top of us not yet- what was that sound? Moblin-? Varniro has it the arrow screwed it up real good go go go ANOTHER, LEAPOVERTHISONELINK head it off, get it before it’s near Varniro- arrow thunked hit wood Terial missed WOAH!missedmemoblin STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE
.
Not dead not yet black moblins tough kill it shut it up YES good shot Terial SWIPE-
.
AH! Ittriedtoheadbuttme?! Good its face is in the dirt- NECK. It’s done. Right? Twist. Spine-OH! REALLY?! Hylia, get its-
Head. Another good shot- crunching?
“Kh.”
Crunching wood smash???
Moblin dead- other one too- there’s no roaring but somehow that’s not comforting they don’t look comforted either what was the crunching? Let’s go but this way, backward, around these houses, I have a feeling I just have a feeling it heard it knows and I could be wrong and if there are more monsters this way it’ll hear that too anyway and there ARE, blue boko right there, back up
.
F#$&!
“KKRRAGGHRRRRERRRRRR!”
The lynel different that was different
“You hear that?”
I swear it heard
“Is it starting?”
kill the boko kill it
“Shh…”
slice slice shield bash it bashbashbashbashbash
.
SLICE SLICE THRUST- THRUST! It’sgoingdown it’sgoing but I hear it hoofbeats it knows it knows send them backward Link!
Varniro, Terial, retreat! Behind me behind me go go go go go go go go go NO NO I stay, you go!
.
That was chuffing it’s close GO! Yes, good good go, now I back up, back up, straight though, straight, I think it’ll see me but not them at least not at first and they can take up other positions and more wood smashing it’s close what is it doing ANOTHER smash-
“Khm. Khm- kh.”
-that was close ANOTHER what is it doing THAT was a piece of wood flying over my head a beam, a piece of a beam, the houses, it’s smashing the houses, what’s left of them, does it think we might be inside or is it just angry?
.
My Goddess I feel like I can hear it thinking, its breath is so loud.
Zelda? She’s probably not looking at the slate. She shouldn’t be. She needs to be watchful-
.
THERE I just saw it whatever it’s using around that bend right there back up so slow Link so soft so it can’t see you not yet not yet no advantage I’m in the wrong spot and Daile’s not here to flank it though he’ll catch on and move, he will-
SPLINTERS WOODHOTHOT PATITOUT S&$^ PATITOUT
SOUND THAT MADE SOUND IT’LL
“KRRRRRGH!!”
HEAR
“S$&#!” “Sounds bad-“
WOOD!FIRE!EYES
“We continue.“
EYES NEEDTHOSE
“Yes-” “Yes, Princess.”
ASHLINK ASH JUSTDODGEANDPRAY DODGEANDPRAY SMASHING SMASHING DEEP BOOM DIRT WHERE I JUST WAS IWASJUSTTHERE AND I HEARDIT
“KRRRRRRRGH!”
Come on eyes comeON HOOFBEATS DODGEANDPRAYHYLIA ITPASSED MYBACKWALL SPLINTERSSHARP SKIDDING
Yes YESLINK It’sheavy it’ssoheavy ittakestime takes time to stop don’t panic clear your eyes you have a moment you HAVE IT and THEREITIS RIGHT THERE SKIDDED TO A STOP JUST LIKE A HORSE
Mount it!!!
YES! ITS HEAD ITS HEAD BASH ITS HEAD BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH
AH! FFF!
“Kh- m- m- kh.”
THROWN
“Prin-?”
FLAMING ROOF my Goddess get off get off ihhhtFALLING!! ShoulderHOT HOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOT noLink moveyouHAVEto it’llcrushyou theclub HOOFbeats
ROLLROLL NEVERMINDTHEHEAT oh GODdess ff hurts rightwhereIwas whereIwasagain itsaim perfect mountingitworked butcarefulcareful-
.
“-RRRHH.”
That was different,wh-
RUNLINK
Fathersaid hesaid whenitjuststands burstofflame magic magic they’remagic thefire it’ll burst anysecondKEEPRUNNING
“HH!” “Did you?!” “S$&*#!”
S#%$NO!
“It appears-“
MYBACKMYBACK
“-as though the lynel has been engaged.”
Sh- sh$# singed keep running anyway
get your bearings for a second
it hurts but there’s been way way way worse the heat I think if my back'd been soaked like earlier I'd've lost all the skin all the skin
more FIRE I hear it
It’s pawing the earth-
DAILE!- no, no, hotwe’ll both be on the same side mime mime, I’ll circle around! Hope he saw that, go right Link go go go go go hot that pawing sound again what is it OHNO IT BLEW BY I MOVED IT BLEW BY WHERE I WAS IT’S AFTER DAILE
.
Please let him have dodged that please, straight back Link we’ll flank it as long as Daile made it PRONE HE’SPRONE
NO YOU DON’T! HEY! HEY LOOK AT ME I’M RIGHT HERE THAT’S RIGHT it has a bunchhot of arrows in it already I didn’t even realize couldn’t see Terial must’ve been going nuts on it from somewhere and CLUBOVERITSHEAD DODGELINK DODGE BACKFLIP BACK AGAIN
Master!
NOT FAR ENOUGH THE VIBRATIONS TOOhot MUCH PRONE PRONE
Your blood oxygenation level is dropping!
YES, Daile! Sword in its flank
Seek to exit the smoke!
DAILE BACKHANDED FLYING HOT HOWISITTHIShotFAST?
“Sirs- kh- hh.”
MOUNT IT AGAIN MOUNT
“The next well-“
BASH BASH BASH BASH
“-this way.”
BASH LEAP EARLY YES
Yes yes Daile- he’s up and it’shot looking at me again and CLUBNO BACKFLIPaaAAAH!
H-head. Good, Link, you’re good, justhot- hit wood, not hotstone
“Kh.”
you’ve had worse way way worseMOVEMOVE!
SMASHINGwood HOTalloverme BURNScrawlout crawlout GODDESS! Shakingground so close how did it miss-
BecauseVarniro!
95% and dropping!
Yesyesyes different hotdirections someoneELSEonitsback Reida it’s ReidaYES SWORD, LINK, RIGHT THERE!!!
Ohhhhitdoesn’tlikethat upitshorse-chestandthrough hotpullout backu- NONO rollunder!
CLUB HolyHylia itstillthrewme and I washot almost behind it, Daile good flank-swipe, arrowsarrows lotsmore Reidawentflying gettingup helpVarniro, itsbelly rightthere hotTHROUGH!
ROLL OUT!
Waveringwavering it’shot whining. Another arrow and another- what-?
PUSH VARNIRO! FIREBALLFIREBALLFIREBALL and HOToh HOTGoddess
MASTER THE FIRE!
IKNOW!!! HOTmy HOTclothes HOTmaskoffoffOFF!
94% AND DROPPING RAPIDLY!
HOTroll ROLL YOU TOO VARNIRO HOT if theHOT houses HOTweren’t here
YOUR BODY IS UNABLE TO REGULATE ITS TEMPERATURE!
HOTwe’d’ve gotHOT hit head-on and YES FI Hyliahelpme IKNOW
“Khh.”
HOTTerialdown? Don’tHOTknow
“Kh.”
crossstreetHOT CROSSLINK RUNRUN FIREBALLHA!missedme HOTHOTHOT CRUNCHING bashingHOT throughtheHOThouse togetme BACKFLIP EARLYLINK be somewhereHOTelse andHOT dotheThing thebowthebowslowitdownslowitall aimaimaimaimaimaimaimaimaimperfectshotbeperfectFIRE
“GRHHHUUUUU!”
Here HOTthey all come
“GR- UUUPH!”
To finish you offHOT
That’s HOTnot a battle cry
Not anymore
Reida
Went forHOT the throat
HOTThe others justHOT- through.
Think- I’llHOT take a breather.
“Kh- khh.”
YES, master, exit the heavy smoke!
It’sHOT down.
Whining.
HOT. Too HOT too hot thingsspinning backoffbackoffcooler
I almosthot feel sorry abouthot this one
Almost
“It’s the same here…”
hotBecause it seems more like an animalspinning
hotAnd less like a monster
It didn’t seem happyhot to kill us
hotNot like bokoblins
But nohot way
“Kh- hh.”
hotNo way
It washot it or us.
Andhot this village
“Oh!”
Or what’s lefthot
“Sir Liff?”
of it and its people.
“Hello down there!”
Too hot what’s she-?
“How fortunate.”
“What- Huiru!”
Yeah. Hot. Yeah- it’s-
“I’ve been following the well system, Princess.”
What?
“We’d thought you lost.”
hotNot now.
“Haha. I was for a time.”
Priorities.
“But now I’ve found you.”
We regroup with the others. They’ll’ve moved.
“Indeed. Huiri-“
We succeed, we returnhot.
“Yes, Princess?”
Not saying it again.
“Is there wind below?”
We’re leaving. Hot.
“Yes.”
You want to stay behind and wait, stay behind. Hot.
hotWow. Get your hotf$&#ing priorities straight.
“Princess?”
Grantedhot the apothecary would pay an ass ton for any lynel part of any kindhot.
“Kh- have you seen anyone down there?”
But I am NOT waiting aroundhot here-
“A few bodies.”
-for it to disintegrate. Hylia help me.
Damn- damn, speaking ofhot priorities- Hey- that well back this way first, everyone.
“Kh. I- see.”
Fresher, cooler water for the cloths, it’s too hot not to-ohhh-spinningagain noo no no- stay up, Link
“Please join us above, Huiru.”
Master- you are at 91%
“Yes, Princess.”
Terial? Terial- Daile!
“Continue to be watchful, everyone.”
Yeah yeahhot help him spinning- out, out everyone OUT north north now!
“It sounds as though the battle has ended.”
You goodhot Aree?
“We kh- shall await the others.”
YOU GOOD?!
“As you say, Princess.”
Come onhot yeah yeah got you gothot
Cooler
Cooler
Surehot hope now f$&#ing moblins jump us now.
Cooler This way!
The air is better here, Master.
Heh. Yeah. I could tell.
---
Part 17 coming soon (I hope!).
Follow this link to return to the chapter list.
Follow this link for my masterlist.
#adventure log+#adventure log+ AU#botw#botw fanfic#zelda#loz#zelink#fantasy#adventure#action#suspense#sheikah slate POV#unorthodox POV#zelda fanfic#got some totk references going now
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Any Hera + stepkids headcanons? (And yes, Hermes is definitely Hera's favorite!)
Hermes creating a soft spot for Hera, calling her Mother Numba 2/Mamma dos/Stepmumster/etc. Hera "hates" these and definitely does not crack a smile whenever he calls her mom unintentionally. "Don't call me your mother." "Sure thing mom!" Hera lectures Hermes about overworking, taking away his coffee when he relies too much on it. Hermes teaching her the world of memes ("Me-mes?") teaching her about Vines and Reddit and Facebook. Absolutely laughs his ass off when Hera gets into online fights. Hera ruffling his hair to remind him how short he is, and buying him every variety of hats, like a fedora or bike helmet or straw hats for his little collection.
Hera and Athena sparring, Hera teaching her about procedure and war tactics. Over time, the student outdos the master and becomes the goddess of war tactics, the queen not holding any resentment but is secretly proud. Athena thanking her by weaving and sewing Hera a beautiful dress and scarf. Both talk about Zeus frequently, whether positively or negatively. They have a mutual respect for one another. Hera inviting Athena to dinner on Mother's day, something Athena never celebrated until now.
Apollo and Hera bond over lettuce diets, cows, and for a while, how much they hate Heracles. Apollo is cautious around the queen, not being the one to resent her for her actions (unlike Artemis), but feels very uneasy whenever their conversation even draws near to the topic of Leto or mothers in general. Hera's pride creates a wall between herself and the twins, but when Apollo's awfully glorious golden hair has captured even her attention, she pulls out a brick and asks him his "big hair" secret. Apollo laughs and says there is no secret, but Hera is not convinced. So he recommends her a salon somewhere in the Middle East, but tells Hera the route is a bit complicated so she begrudgingly asks him to accompany her. He accepts with a bit of awkwardness but it is not long when they would casual talk while getting their toes done.
Meanwhile Artemis and Hera butt heads, disagree on almost anything. Apollo observes this for they are very different in interests and lifestyles, and of course, what transpired before they were born is a big aspect to consider. Artemis still resents Hera, Hera does not give a whit for Artemis. They do not interact, save for the conjugation of childbirth in which they, including Eileithyia, share. One day, when a 13 year old girl Artemis protected as a child is set to be married, she hears the steps of the heavenly goddess enter the wedding feast. Artemis turns around with tears in her eyes, angry. "Why are you here?" Hera says, ready for a rebuttal from the fierce huntress. Artemis says nothing, her face unreadable. It was quiet for a while, until she spoke up. "She wanted to be like me, and you're taking her away." The words had no malice, no anger, just pure sadness coming out of the huntress' voice. She hates that Hera sees this. Her stepmother looks to the bride, then to her stepchild, and sighs. She sits two chairs away from the huntress, a suitable distance between them. "There's nothing I can do." The goddess of marriage says. "But I will protect her." Artemis lets out her tears, and Hera keeps her distance, but this becomes an occurance, everytime a child Artemis adores leaves childhood and goes into Hera's arms of marriage. When the quiet becomes too loud, she reluctantly tells Hera stories of the girls, their little acts of devotion and adventures with a gleam of pride everytime. Hera pretends not to listen, but she does.
#the last one became a story wtf#my brain cells ���#hera#apollo#athena#artemis#i would do one for dionysus but im really burnt out#ty nonnie ❤#greek mythology#all my love#greek mythology headcanons
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Summary: Kuro and Mahiru celebrate their daughter’s birthday. (KuroMahi, Fem Mahiru)
“Happy birthday, Machi!” Tsurugi cheered as he entered the apartment. His call was quickly answered by Machi’s excited squeal and the little girl ran to her uncle. Mahiru followed her to greet Tsurugi in the doorway. He held a large present box and he placed it on the ground so he could hug his niece. “How is my favourite niece?”
“Machi is excited! Mama made a big cake! She said that we had to wait for everyone to come before we can eat. But, Machi’s hungry for cake! It has a bunch of shiny strawberries.” She made wide gestures as she described the cake. Yumikage and Jun entered the house with presents as well. Mahiru couldn’t contain her smile as she watched Machi interact with her uncles.
Machi noticed a fourth person enter the house but she didn’t recognize him. She pointed to him and declared, “Old Man smells like smoke! That’s bad for you!”
“Old man? Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to call people by names like that? Well, it’s your birthday so you can be a little cheeky. Here.” Touma said and held out a bag of treats to Machi. She didn’t take the candy and looked to her mother instead.
“You can take it, Machi.” After her mother nodded to her, Machi accepted the bag and thanked him politely. Mahiru picked her up into her arms and carried her closer to Touma. “This man is your… His name is Touma. You met him when you were very young so you don’t remember him but you can trust him. Can you tell Papa that your uncles are here, Machi?”
“Okay!” The moment she placed her on the ground, Machi took Tsurugi’s hand and dragged her uncle to the party. “Machi will show you the giant cake!”
Mahiru stayed in the doorway so she could speak with Touma. She learned that he was her father when she was a teenager but it was still difficult to see him as a parent. They would only speak with each other a couple times during family events. Sometimes, she would question why her mother would be with a man like Touma. Was she born from love or simply a mistake to her parents?
“The Shirota family has strong genes, don’t they? Machi looks exactly like you and you’re a mirror image of your mother.” Touma commented. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but he stopped himself when he heard Machi’s laughter in the distance. “There’s not a single resemblance of me in you. No one will think that I’m your father at a glance. I’m surprised that you invited me to your daughter’s birthday party.”
“I’m surprised that you came.” Mahiru retorted. He took out a wrapped box and she saw that Machi’s name was written on the tag. She had assumed that the bag of treats was his birthday gift and she wondered what he bought her since the box was rather light. Did Tsurugi tell him what to buy for Machi’s birthday?
“They’re shoes.” Touma told her. “I don’t know what a kid would want. When Tsurugi was young, I bought him a pair of shoes and he liked them. I thought I should get Machi the same thing. If they don’t fit her, the gift receipt is inside and you can exchange the shoes.”
“Shoes are simple and practical. Machi will like them. Thank you for coming. Machi said she wanted her grandfather to come.” Mahiru carried the present into the living room and placed it on the table with the other gifts. The table was overflowing with colourful boxes and the sight made her happy. She was glad that her daughter was so loved. As a mother, the only thing she wanted was for her daughter to be surrounded with happiness.
She recalled her own birthday when she was four years old. Her mother had died only a few months before that. While her uncle took time off to celebrate her birthday, a young Mahiru couldn’t help but feel lonely. She didn’t want her daughter to ever feel the same way. She invited as many people as she could to Machi’s birthday party.
A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and she was pulled out of her thoughts. Kuro stood beside her and there was a hint of worry in his red eyes. He was able to read her expression and he knew that there was something on her mind. Without a word, he kissed her temple. They were able to understand each other without speaking.
“Next month is your birthday. I was talking with your uncle and he said that he’s already planning to take time off for your birthday party. Hyde and Licht said the same.” He told her and tenderly rubbed her arms. “I know you would want to be with everyone on your birthday. Can I take you on a private birthday dinner the day before your big party though?”
“I think that’s a great idea.” She nodded to him and a smile spread over her lips. Mahiru couldn’t begin to tell Kuro how much he had changed her life the day they met. He had filled her days with so much happiness and she gained more friends through their adventures. Now, they had their own family.
“Mama! Papa! Look at this trick that Auntie Mikuni taught me just now. I can make thunder!” Machi called their names as she ran to them. She held a balloon over her head and vigorously rubbed it against her hair. After a few minutes, she walked to JeJe standing nearby and touched his hand. He wasn’t facing her so he didn’t expect to feel static electricity shock his hand. He winced and pulled his hand away from her. She only smiled up at him innocently. “Thunder attack.”
Machi waved the balloon in front of her and explained. “Auntie Mikuni told me that the attack is more effective if the person doesn’t expect it. I should aim for Uncle JeJe since he’s easy to pick on.”
“You shouldn’t listen to everything your Auntie tells you, Machi. She likes to play pranks on people sometimes.” Mahiru smiled warily. She knelt in front of her daughter and smoothed her hand over her hair. The balloon had made her hair frizzy and disorganized. Once her hair was fixed, Mahiru kissed her forehead. “That was a cool attack though. Only use it on villains.”
“Okay.” She nodded. Then, she ran back to the party to show others her trick. Mahiru sat on the couch and watched her play with her cousins. “Lucy, let’s fight demons together with this new lightning attack. Auntie Mikuni taught me this attack and I will share it with everyone.”
“Can you blow me a green balloon?” Yuu asked and handed it to Tetsu. “Father’s strong lungs will make a balloon large enough to carry all of us into the sky.”
“Kids have wild imaginations, don’t they?” Toru laughed and sat next to Mahiru. Whenever he looked at Machi, he couldn’t help but remember when Mahiru was her age. He did his best to raise her with his busy job and he came to love her like his own daughter. “You liked to play ‘Superheroes’ too. I don’t know how I was able to keep up with you.”
“You’re talking as if you’re an old man, Uncle.” Kuro sat on Mahiru’s right and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Weren’t you the one who said that you’re a thunder god and you would watch over our family forever?”
“Uncle Toru is a thunder god?” Machi overheard their conversation and stared at her great uncle with awe. “When you attack the villain, you must go like this: Rawr-jin!”
The childish way she mispronounced ‘Raijin’ brought a tear to Toru’s eye. He hugged Mahiru and Machi close. “Mahiru, you’ve raised a wonderful daughter who knows the power of a great pun.”
“Thank you, Uncle Youtarou! This is fluffy just like a cat.” Machi thanked Youtarou as he wrapped the warm scarf around her neck. She played with the fluffy balls that were sewed onto the ends of the scarf. A box was placed next to her and it stood taller than her. “Is this really for me?”
“I have the best gift of the night.” Misono wore a proud grin after she saw Machi’s reaction to the gift. “The subclasses loved this toy when I gave it to them. You’ll have a lot of fun with it too.”
“It’s so tall that I can’t reach the bow on the top.” Machi stretched onto her toes but her fingers barely brushed against the top of the box. She was suddenly lifted into the air but she wasn’t scared. She immediately knew that her father had picked her up. “Thank you, Papa!”
“You should say thank you to Tetsu and Misono since they’re the one who gave you this present.” He told her but she was distracted with the wrapping paper. Kuro held her over the bow so she could tear off the wrapping. He could only imagine what the gift would be. While he was grateful that their friends were generous with gifts for Machi, he didn’t know where they would put the present.
“A cat sized house!” Machi gasped when she saw the glossy image printed onto the box. “It can fit me too. Can we open it and play house right away?”
“Okay.” Mahiru said even as Machi struggled to open the box and take out the playhouse. She helped her pull out the large pieces from the box. “It’ll take us some time to set this up for you. How about you choose everyone’s role while we do that?”
“I wanna be the daughter!” Machi decided quickly. She started to list roles for everyone in her game. She hugged Mahiru’s leg and grinned up at her. “Mama will be the mom. Papa is the dad. Uncle Tsurugi and Uncle Youtarou are my uncles in the game.”
Gear tapped Kuro’s shoulder and then whispered to him. “You have a simpleminded kid, don’t you?”
“Uncle Gear, you will be the family pet!” Machi declared and her innocent smile never faltered. Kuro didn’t try to hold back his laugh. She appeared confused by her father’s reaction so Gear knew that she didn’t hold any malice in her choice. Machi reasoned that they exchanged a joke that she didn’t hear and she laughed along with them.
Mahiru was exhausted by the end of the day. She was grateful that Licht and Hyde stayed to help clean the party before they returned to their hotel. The house was now quiet and she walked down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Kuro. The bathroom door was opened and she could see Kuro help Machi brush her teeth. “You ate a lot of sweets today so make sure to bush extra well, Machi.”
“Okay, all done, Papa.” She said after she spit out another mouthful of water. Machi didn’t climb off the step stool she used to reach the sink and held out her arms to him instead. Kuro knew that she was likely tired after the party and she wanted him to carry her. As he picked her up, he saw Mahiru’s smiling reflection in the mirror.
“I said I would put Machi to bed so you could go to sleep first. You stayed up late to work on the cake last night.” The birthday party was important to both of them and she spent the past week planning it. He walked to the doorway and kissed Mahiru softly. “You still push yourself too much. When you traded our vows, we promised to lean on each other.”
“I’m certain that promise was first made when I became your Eve.” They had kept that vow to each other since that day they met. She was tempted to ask him to carry her to bed but he was already holding Machi. Their daughter was already sleeping soundly against his shoulder and Mahiru hoped that she had fun at the party. “She called Touma an Old Man this morning.”
“Apparently, Gear is a pet to her because of his wolf form.” They both laughed softly. She opened the door to Machi’s room and they quietly placed her on the bed. Mahiru was careful to not wake her as she kissed her brown hair and pulled the blanket to her shoulder. As she stood, she noticed Kuro staring at her. “Machi speaks her mind the way you do.”
Kuro wrapped his arms around her and Mahiru thought he simply wanted to hug her. Instead, he lifted her off the bed and held her against his chest. He brought her out of the room to return to their own bed. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “Your birthday is next month. Is there anything you want? I know you’re going to say that you already have everything you need but you can be selfish on your birthday.”
“Well, it has been a long time since I’ve seen you in a fancy suit.” Mahiru said and traced her finger over the collar of his shirt. “Formal clothes are ‘troublesome’ but you look great in them.”
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Relic
Incarnation: Breath of the Wild
“What are you doing?” Zelda asked, sitting on her heels on the bed, her eyes dancing with intrigue.
“Sorting through my clothes,” Link answered as he folded something blue and neatly placed it in another drawer. “I’m putting the ones that would fit you better in your own drawer.”
“You’re giving me a drawer?” asked Zelda with a hint of surprise and a slight smile.
Link’s head turned to her quickly.
“I…” he tried. “I could give you the whole dresser if you’d prefer.”
“No, no,” Zelda insisted. “That’s not what I meant. I was just surprised. Living here is just a surprise...a good surprise, but…well I guess I just didn’t expect your hospitality.”
“You’re the Princess,” Link reasoned, his gaze returning to the clothes, folding them neatly and sorting them before he started to fold another and the cycle continued. “I wouldn’t just leave you out on Hyrule Field.”
“If I’m being honest,” Zelda said, her shoulders rising and her long hair slightly folding as they did. Her eyes drifted down. “I didn’t know what to expect.”
Link didn’t reply, a silence returning that Zelda had become accustomed to a hundred years ago. Then, the silence was normal and expected as she prattled on about this or that. It was when he started to respond, more emphatically with each word that it was strange.
Now, he was so much more outspoken that the silence felt strange instead, like she had done something wrong and now they were back to square one.
“Thank you,” she said, attempting to break the silence. “For your hospitality. I don’t know if I’ve said it properly before now, for inviting me into your home, for feeding me, for giving up your bed, for clothing me in anything but that dress...thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Link said in reply.
“Do you...have my prayer dress?” She asked, her head tilting back up.
“Yeah,” Link said as he grabbed it from somewhere in the drawer and offered it to her.
Zelda took it into her hands, clutching at the thick, scratchy fabric that never quite flattered her. Just the touch of it reminded her of everything she hated, praying hours on end to a silent slab of stone in the likeness of the Goddess Hylia, her skin like ice and her teeth like the tail of a rattlesnake as she knelt in freezing waters, her kingdom and her friends as dead as she felt inside as she and her knight ran to any sanctuary, the nearest rock, the nearest tree, the nearest nonfunctioning Guardian until the lights suddenly beamed with a sputtering chime.
She hated more than anything Link dying in her arms, unlocking her sealing power and realizing her love for him just too late, watching his last breath leave him and having to carry on without him.
And she hated the hundred years spent in torture, where she, in keeping Ganon at bay, was prey to each and every one of his tricks and traps to waver her hope. With Link exercising his greatest silence in his long slumber, all she had was that one last look he gave her, that one last look that told her that dark manifested illusions over years upon years meant nothing to the reality of the way he once looked at her with love. That somewhere, beyond the evil eyes that peered into her soul and burned her spirit, there was a dormant pair of calm blue eyes that showed love instead of hate, that could love her after all the death she’d caused.
She didn’t realize how hard she was gripping until a small tear on the dress suddenly widened. Zelda loosened her grip immediately until she realized there was no reason to.
She felt no regret within herself, no desire to sew it up and make it perfect, no desire to wash it and to rid it of the stains of Link’s blood, of Ganon’s malice, of Hyrule’s dirt and grass. She wanted it ruined.
Zelda looked to what was pattering at the window to see that it was raining. She imagined soaking and drowning the dress in the river before her ears sensed a nearby crackling.
Rushing out of the bed Link gave her with the dress in hand, she hurried down the stairs.
“Zelda?” She heard Link inquire, but she rushed to the fireplace nonetheless, sitting on her heels before it.
“Zelda,” Link asked, approaching her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want this dress anymore,” she said. “I want to watch it burn, along with everything that comes with it.”
“If you did it would already be in the fire,” Link reasoned, keeping his distance, but relenting to his instincts not long after.
“There must be some good memories that accompany that dress,” he said, sitting beside her.
“Maybe one or two.” said Zelda in reply. “But nothing that outweighs the death, the pain and suffering that was endured.”
“Any that I remember?” Link asked, Zelda looking to him. “Of the good memories?”
“Yes,” Zelda said before averting her glance. “It was always you, after all. Beside me, as you are now, comforting me whether or not protocol dictated you to do so.”
“Why do you do that?” Link asked.
“Why do I do what?” Zelda asked, looking over but not meeting his glance.
“You haven’t looked me in the eyes since I said I remembered you,” Link stated. “Did...did I do something wrong?”
“No, of course not,” Zelda insisted, forcing her gaze to lock into his. “It’s just…”
The truth of the matter was that she had the love in his blue eyes so ingrained in her mind over the past one hundred years that to see them again without it hurt a bit too much.
Of course there was the other truth that was easier to admit, the opposite to that warm memory, the coldness and darkness of what followed.
“Everytime I see your eyes,” she explained. “I fear they will close. That no words from me, pleading them to open, will ever work.”
Link looked down with an exhale, searching nothing on the floor.
“Wow,” he said with his next breath. “I...I’m sorry you went through that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I told you I would answer your questions,” he heard her say. “Please don’t be sorry.”
Link delayed his response, his mind wrought with his next words.
“You want to forget, don’t you?”
Zelda more than delayed her reply, deciding to not even give it.
“Look,” Link started, looking back up. “It’s not my place to make your decisions and even though I think you should keep the dress, I understand why you loathe it so. I wish that all that happened to you and to other people while you wore that dress never occurred. Sometimes I wish I could forget too, toss everything in a fire and move on. But honestly, most of time, I never want to forget again. I want to remember more and more because I know I’ve lost something important to who I used to be. When I first woke up, I wanted so much to mourn people without names and bodies without faces. Until I took great lengths to remember those things, I was beyond frustrated at my ignorance. From someone who at once forgot everything, trust me when I say that there is nothing worse than having pain and not being able to explain it.”
Link reached to take her hands, Zelda’s fingers softening from how they clenched at the dress and going smoothly into his.
“Years upon years from now, someone deserving of you will sweep you off your feet and you’ll get married. You’ll have children and grandchildren. You may want to get rid of this now but...what about later? When you tell stories to them and reminisce of the past? Won’t you want to have this? It’s a relic of the past in a world where those are hard to come by. Don’t you want to protect it? Like the Champions' weapons?”
“Is that why you want to protect me?” Zelda asked. “Because I’m a relic of the past?”
“Goddesses, no,” Link said, his expression melting. “Zelda, I want to protect you because I care about you. You are so much more than a relic. Here.”
He moved his hands to flip over her hand, placing gentle fingers on the small of her wrist and feeling a steady pulse.
“You are a living, breathing person,” he insisted, making sure he met her green eyes. “With a great big mind and an even greater heart. You are beautiful yet incredibly stubborn. You have the tact of your father and the spirit of the champions and I am beyond thankful that you are alive after everything you’ve been through. It is important to me that you are thankful too.”
“I am...” she said quietly. “And I must thank you that I am alive, but this dress just reminds me of the death I could have prevented, the pressure I was under, the hopelessness that dragged me down…”
“You talk about this being a future part of history,” continued Zelda. “That on account of our victory it isn’t something to cast away. But this dress has already been passed down along the Royal Family for generations. If, by your logic, I ever have children, I never want to subject them to the pressure I went through.”
“Then don’t subject them to it,” Link stated simply. “But keep it as a reminder. We can hide it away for now, maybe even forget it for a bit, but not forever. I don’t want it turned to ash and I don’t think you do either.”
Zelda nodded as she offered the dress to him, Link slightly surprised.
“Put it somewhere,” she said. “Somewhere that years from now, we’ll pull it out and remember again, with perhaps less of my raw guilt.”
“Understood,” Link said as he took the dress, yet he remained still. His blue eyes were on her green.
Link blinked his eyes closed slowly as his lips curved into a smile. As a bright blue breached through, Zelda felt her entire body warm as a very certain adoration shined in the way they melted. She felt as if she lost her breath entirely when she searched his eyes and saw love in them.
Although she’d prefer not to--and knew their adventure was more than likely at an end with Calamity Ganon defeated--she felt that the love she saw in him could carry her through any age-long battle with evil.
#zelda#link#zelink#botw#botw 2#breath of the wild#breath of the wild 2#breath of the wild sequel#hateno#tloz#the legend of zelda
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Winner’s Curse Ch. 25
“What are we doing here?” Jay asked, kicking at the impenetrable wall.
“You three need to talk. Your little feuds are ruining the mission for the rest of us so nows a time for heart to heart before we all die in battle.” Calix said.
They all stared at him disbelievingly.
“We could die in battle. Especially with your teamwork skills.”
They still stared at him, each a stony and defiant face.
“I could do a truth spell to make you talk but I thought it should be more organic. Instead we’re all going to be stuck here until you work things out.” Calix said smoothly.
Aziz tried to use a more diplomatic approch, “Cal, you said it yourself, we have a mission to do. We can’t waste time talking and-”
“Oh, but we can. Because this is a life changing adventure, and as we know from our parents’ stories, there is almost always a heart to heart before the final battle. This is it.” Calix threw out his arms grandly as if he was presenting a magnificent buffet of chocolate fountains and not being trapped against their wills.
“You cant keep us in here,” Jordan protested, “This is my lamp. I’ll just poof us out here. So nice try but-”
“The spaghetti incident.” Calix said simply and Jordan’s stilled the hand she was about to poof them away. She glared at him but did nothing else to help get them out.
“What’s “the spaghetti incident?” Aziz asked, confused.
“It’s nothing,” Jordan waved off, refusing to look anyone in the eye.
“It’s blackmail.” Calix clarified matter of factly before giving a thoroughly annoyed Jordan an enthusiastic one-armed hug, “Don’t fight the heart to heart. Don’t fight the tropes of adventuring and ragtag misfits against evil. You must go with it.”
Jay rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall in a classic bad boy biker pose which seemed a bit ridiculous since he was posed next to an ultra girly beaded curtain.
“If we’re supposed to, hypothetically, have a heart to heart,” Jay began
“Didn’t think you knew such big words,” Aziz muttered
Jay glared and continued, “Why are you still here?”
“I’m here to make sure you do it,” Calix magicked up some headphones, and increased the volume, “I won’t hear anything. Just give me the signal when you’re done.” With that instruction he hopped onto a pile of pillows, jamming out to his own playlist.
Where once it was like they hadn’t been able to stop spewing enough curses and vitriol at each other, now silence reigned. Silence and the blinding shine of the golden walls which they stared at resolutely because they didn’t want to look at each other. None of them wanted to participate in this idiotic heart to heart and spill feelings to people they currently hated.
So Calix jumped up from his pillows and tried to get the ball rolling again.
"Okay, maybe my presence is making it hard for you to be your usual motormouth selves so I’ll go and leave this to start the conversation. How about you start with Jordan and your obvious trust issues toward everyone that makes you incapable of a “Thank you." Calix suggested a bit too enthusiastically than the situation called for.
"I don't!" Jordan immediately argued but Calix clapped his hand over mouth, "I know denial is your go-to but we have to save the realm tomorrow so let's get this over with."
"But but-"
"Again,” Calix sighed, frustration finally creeping into his voice as he repeated himself again, “Every hero's journey has that tipping point where they must come together and share their deepest fears to find out the fears are irrational because of the power of love and friendship." Calix said.
"I seriously hate it when you use my lectures on story tropes against me." Jordan grumbled.
"I don’t care what you hate," Calix began to fade away, "If you don't start bonding I will transform you into mice when this is over."
"Why mice?" Jay asked
"Mices are automatically inducted into Cinderella's sewing circle. So double punishment to you for not listening to me as you always should. Ta ta!” And with a final woosh of breeze that came from nowhere, he was gone.
Aziz and Jordan resumed their previous staring contest with the wall but Jay, fed up with this situation, and figuring they might as well get this over with, glared “So what is with your trust issues? You came from Auradon, not the Isle, why are you so paranoid?”
Jordan glared at him in return, furious that he was expecting her to dignify his question with an answer he should obviously know.
But she had to admit, she was tired too. Her arms hurt from the crescent moon marks that her nails had dug in. She was feeling residue cramps from the Antiquam’s cream or maybe it was her own tension. Not to mention her teeth hurt from clenching them so tightly.
She remembered once, on a family trip long ago, Jordan had been in a mood because she had missed an Orpheus concert due to her parents’ inability to care about time. Her parents had offered to take her to another concert later that night, but she pettily refused to enjoy it.
Her dad had said it hurt more to hold onto a grudge when you can be enjoying the present. And it was true, once she had stopped ruminating on her parents’ flaws and simply listened to Orpheus’ sweet voice, the burning ball of annoyance had faded away.
And she was so tired.
She had nothing left to lose.
“As if you don’t know,” Jordan began, though with a lot less malice that she usually put behind her snark. Not that it made Jay raised his guard any less. Jordan sighed and tried again, more gentle this time.
“Well you already said it yourself. Auradonians can be hypocrites. It’s all happily ever after and respect and love and harmony is everywhere but it’s not true. They can’t have my lamp so they think if they’re nice to me and pretend to care but they’re just waiting for the right moment to ask for wishes. All of them,” Jordan side-eyed Aziz who stared stonily at her instead of looking guiltily away as she wanted him to.
“And I know people think my magic is amazing, with the wishes and all that. But it’s not,” Jordan continued, on a roll of her own, trying to make Jay understand taht even though she didn’t have Jafar as a father, her life was not pastel perfect as most Auradonians, “It’s not. I can’t give wishes to myself. If I did, I’d wish for people to like me, to be nice to me not because they like me, they think I might grant them something. And when I don’t grant them a wish, those fucking lying smiles and royal manners disappear. Because I am not human. I don’t get to be treated as if I have feelings or anything. Hell, one of my exes told me if I’m not granting wishes then I’m worthless because what else do genies live for?”
“And when I do grant wishes, usually against my will, I can’t even use magic against them. I can’t hurt my masters unless they wish for that or I find a loophole somehow. But I can’t find loopholes all the time,” Her mind automatically went to that awful night, the repeat that had almost occurred with Antiquam and Jordan choked. She hastily wiped away the tears that were beginning to streak down her cheeks.
Allah, she felt embarrassed as she saw Jay’s uncomfortable expression, eyes darting as if he wasn’t sure if he should comfort her or look away from her breakdown.
But she couldn’t stop, she felt words clamber and spill out of her throat like uncontrolled word vomit.
“And-and I wish that I didn’t have wishes to give. I wish I didn’t have to become semi-phenomenally cosmic just so I can be free. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to use it. Auradon has a fucking Magic Ban because it’s unfair to you, mortals. It’s unfair to us. Genies, and faey need their magic to live or else they’re just wasting away. Why are we punished for being born “better than you.”
“But instead, instead we have this. Resentment for being forced to hide ourselves so mortals can feel better. We can help people. But it’s also the same thing that makes people fear us and send those like Circe and Morgana Le Fey to the Isle and then they become evil because they’re bitter that they’d do this to them. Auradon creates their own enemies like a self fulfilling prophecy. “It’s like a winner’s curse.” Jordan muttered.
Sometimes when her father talked about Aladdin’s story, he phrased it as a series of winner’s curses. A winner’s curse, where one has all the power, the riches, everything they could want as a winner but the cons usually outweigh such gifts.
Jasmine was a privileged princess but that meant she was a target for a greedy vizier and princess who only wanted to add her money to their fortunes.
Aladdin got the lamp but it meant only that he had to be on guard to keep up his Prince Ali lie, and later, for Jafar who stole the lamp.
Jafar became a genie, he technically “won” since he got what he wanted, to become all powerful with phenomenal cosmic powers. But he couldn’t use it since he was stuck in an itty bitty living space.
A genie’s life was one big winner’s curse. She was beholden to people who only saw her as much of an object as her lamp and the wishes she could materialize.
Maybe everyone’s lives had a bit of a winner’s curse. The Aks “won,” got their happily ever afters in Auradon but others would always be resentful of their status and try to take it away from them. Like all of their most dangerous enemies that lived just across the bridge plotting to do just that.
And if they won, if they somehow managed not to screw up saving the world, the villains would still rise to do just that. Someone will be jealous of their fame and try to usurp the glory. People might see her as more than a wishmaker... or people would just see it as bonus. Date her for the popularity and the power.
There would always be something to outweigh the good.
And unlike any other curse, there was no way to break it.
“And I thought maybe if I did this, helped lead to save Auradon that it could change. People would see that magic can be used not just for selfish desires but to help the kingdom. That I’m so much more than wish fulfillment. But all this proved just the opposite. I can’t lead. I should be accept that my life will eventually be solitude and greedy people. And admit my parents were right all along to boot.” Jordan sank to the ground, staring uselessly at her wrists where the gold bracelets would usually shine like a mocking reminder.
And for some reason, Jay was caught by that last part rather than the real emotional turmoil that she talked about before.
“I thought-why are you so upset your parents are right?” He asked
Jordan wiped her eyes again now that she was no longer feeling weepy, “I love my parents and I love hanging out with them but- you know. They’re not- They gave up parenting me so I- I thought I would get back at them by not being like them at all. I’m serious and hard working and not spontaneous at all. Just be nothing like them, cut ties and all that. Well,not that I had to try too hard, a lot of my personality comes natural but I wanted to stick it to them.”
“Not that they care. They say it’s just a phase and when I’m a grown up, I’ll act like a regular genie like thm. Still.. hate to prove them right.”
“To be fair, I think some of the standard genie personailty comes from being in solitary confinement for thousands of years at a time,” Aziz said with a small smile as he slid down next to her.
Just like old times.
Jordan genuinely smiled at the glimpse of Aziz, the Aziz that was her best friend and brother and confident, her platonic soul mate that she loved. “Actually, because I made that vow to accept that I’m a genie and that I should act like one, that’s why I was more interested in your love life than usual. You’re my Aladdin so I had to keep you safe from your worst mortal impulses. As usual.”
Aziz’s small smile faded and Jordan frowned at the change, remembering their previous words, “Though we’re not like our Dads… not if you just-”
“I don’t tolerate you for the wishes you might grant me.” Aziz said, directly staring her in the eye so she’d know he was telling the truth. Not that she needed that, somewhere in her heart she knew that had been a lie. But what hurt more than the lie itself was..
“Then why the hell would you say that? You know that’s my worst fear and that you’re one of the few exceptions. Why would you-”
“I wanted to hurt you as much as you’d you hurt me.” Aziz answered calmly.
“How have I ever hurt you? I’m the one always saving your neck!” Jordan defended.
“That’s exactly it! You’re always trying to save me or set me up on dates because you don’t think I can do it myself. You think I lead with my dick, that I’m clumsy and breakable and impulsive and foolish. The same thing you think of all mortals. And I thought I was the one exception to you, but I’m not.” Aziz cried.
Jordan scoffed, not sure how to respond except, “Can you blame me? You mess up on so many things.”
“Thanks, Jordan. Really.” Aziz rolled his eyes, “Thanks for thinking the same things of me as everyone else does.”
Aziz seized up Jay who came to sit down across from them in a small triangle with a bewildered look at their back and forth. Totally confused as to the thought that Aziz could have problems of his own which Aziz was too happy to correct.
“You don’t think I can do anything on my own. Everyone else thinks I’m forgettable, I’ve been totally useless on this mission. The only reason people know me is because I’m Aladdin’s son and you’re my genie. That’s it. But Jay… Jay is….”
Jay tensed as if already waiting for the moment he could punch Aziz for the insult.
“Jay is wonderful,” Aziz mocked in a high falsetto before going back to his normal voice, “”Jay is so charming and agile and clever. He’s a real thief.” Do you know how much it sucks for people to say that you’re more like Aladdin than me?”
Jay gaped, “Um-h-how I never-No one told me?”
“No, they’d never tell you that your similar to one of Auradon’s heroes. I’m the one they tell.. Straight to my face how they think you’re more Aladdin’s son than I am,” Aziz said bitterly.
“Well, you’re definitely Jasmine’s son. You have her political intelligence,” Jordan pointed out optimistically as she used to do when Aziz vented about Jay. Cutting off Jay’s proud smile when he opened his mouth, clearly about to self brag at the worst possible moment.
“It still sucks. I’m forgettable to people. Invisible now that Jay’s around.” Aziz turned to Jay, “I used to wish you were a mini Jafar. I would have had more of a reason to hate you if you were like your dad, and I wouldn’t have to admit that I’m just so jealous that you’re better than me in everything.”
Aziz felt his blood pump, and stod up, pacing for more room as more feeling spilled into words that he hadn’t been able to say out loud before, “I’m not like the other princes. I’m not going to rule Agrabah, my sister is, so what do I do? I don’t have to take governing classes or really find a future queen right away which is great but- that made me even more unremarkable. I had no prince duties, I’m not a mini Aladdin. It felt like my introvertedness, my own personality was preventing me from following my legacy. And I tried to change myself to be more outgoing and be one jump ahead of what everyone expected of me but then Jay came and then…. I felt like I was always going to be inferior to everyone. All the Jays and the magical genies around me were more interesting than I could ever be.”
Jay’s proud look vanished, taking on a more thoughtful expression, “Maybe I could help you be better? So we’re equals in stealing.”
Before this conversation it would have been mocking, another punch to the gut, but Aziz could see that Jay was being genuine, and Aziz smiled at the offer.
“Thanks but no thanks. I had a conversation with a friend,” He turned to Jordan, emphasizing, “Just a friend, and she made me realize that if people can’t bother to see past my introvertedness or prefer Jay over me, that I don’t need them.”
Aziz turned to Jay once more, “But I’m sorry that I took out all my jealousy on you, and acted like you the Jafar I wanted you to be.”
Jordan leaned his shoulder, still thinking of his previous words, “I’m sorry that I made you think you weren’t the exception to my view of mortals. You are. I don’t think you’re completely incapable of doing things on your own. I like hanging out with you, we have the best times together. And your… your love life is entertaining. Honestly, sometimes-and you’re not allowed to overanalyze this like usual or use me as your case study in psychology class again-maybe the reason I’m so invested in your life because it’s better than my own. And if you need me, you won’t leave me. But if it bothers you, I’ll ask for your permission first.”
Aziz side-hugged her and for once, did not try to probe that admission ripe for psychoanalytical analysis, “'Ant ealiq maei, Bmout Fiki.”
“You know, I really dislike when you talk like that in front of me.”
Jordan and Aziz unhugged and looked quizzically at Jay, “What the sentimental mushiness? You’re stuck in a heart to heart, you gotto deal with it.”
“No, the Arabic thing. I don’t know,” Jay almost physically shrank back as if wishing he could take the words back but he continued trying to pretend he was talking to Jade again or his friends, “Like you said Jafar only taught me how to steal and cheat, not language. I-I want to, I heard so much about Agrabah but…”
Jay sighed and started again, “I want to know stuff like Arabic and see Agrabah but you always stuck together and throw it in my face that I don’t know those things. How can I? It’s not my fault that I was born here. I never had a chance to learn all the things you know. Or learn “big words” or-or anything you grew up with. You know I’m not like you and you keep judging me for that. I’m trying to change and you think I’m lying.”
Aziz and Jordan looked shame-faced at the floor, mullifying the last of Jay’s previous anger towards them.
“I am trying. But- Everyone else is doing better than me. Mal is embracing her role as a court lady, Carlos is having a blast at school, getting to learn techno stuff and helping the animal shelter. Evie has her business. I have tourney and R.O.A.R. but that still involves the fighting that makes me a Vk.”
“But we- it doesn’t make you a Vk,” Aziz faltered on the point because they all knew it was wrong. Jay’s aggression on the court was another thing that made him stand out compared to the polite royals who never fought in their life. So vulgar, so ruthless. So villainous.
“I still can’t stop myself from stealing shiny objects. I still seek out the exits of each room because that’s just what you do here to survive. It- I feel like I haven’t improved as much as the others have but I don’t know how I’m supposed to get better. But I have changed. I’d forgotten how bad it is here, I got soft.. I’m just stuck.”
“And I thought I was doing better. I care about my friends like good guys do. I protect them but I haven’t really,” Jay admitted, some of his former doubts of whether his big brother title was earned, resurfacing.
“I’ve done nothing for my friends, and I heard you don’t need to but I- I was not raised that way. You have to be able to offer something if you want to be worth anyone’s time. Everything is transactional. Dad cared for me because of what I could give him. I thought it was the same with friends. Even though it’s not transactional, I still feel like a worthless friend without being able to offer anything.” Jay ended abruptly, shifting his gaze to the lint on the oriental rug, picking at it to give himself something to do than look at their pitying stares, “I really haven’t changed if I still think like Dad, I guess, but I can’t shake it.”
But Jordan placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up at, not pity, but a sort of understanding.
They had all messed up. Resenting each other for not seeing their difficulties, for basing their views on expectation and legacy rather than reality and how the shadows of their parents haunted many of their actions.
But with the truth revealed, the biases stripped away, they wouldn’t continue.
“I’m sorry. Neither of us have been treating you fairly, but we could teach you Arabic. If you join us in Agrabah for vacation,” Aziz trailed off, offering his hand.
“Sure,” Jay smiled, “I think I’ll be able to get through it now without wanting to punch you.”
They all stood up, stretching out their limbs, feeling much more relaxed now that some of the air was cleared.
“What are you smiling about?” Aziz punched Jordan’s shoulder to get her attention from wherever she was zoning out.
“I was just thinking it’s a funny coincidence that we’re all sexy, witty bisexuals with daddy issues and a love for gold, jewels and parkour-flipping adventures,” Jordan raised a sardonic eyebrow, “But I can’t figure out if it’s just us or maybe all Agrabahians share that.”
The three took a pause, staring at each other at the surprising commonality between them.
Jay was the first to recover with his usual smirk, “I don’t know about these two or the supposed “daddy issues” but sexiness always applies to me.”
“Get over yourself.” Aziz rolled his eyes before unsubtly puffing up his own chest, “We all are sexy. It’s practically in our national anthem. “More than often that not, we’re hotter that hot-“
“In a lot of good ways.” Jordan finished, bumping her hip against his, the first friendly smile she gave to him in days, "Though I'm the wittest out of us."
"You? Really? You don't snark, you just insult people." Jay retorted.
"It's true. And you always "reference" things that only your parents know. Like when you go all Spanish, "Say hello to my little friend." Aziz added.
"That's from Scar-right you don't know that. Well there's um...What great one-liners have you've come up with?" Jordan shot back, clearly perturbed by Jay and Aziz teaming up against her with the same condescending look on her banter skills.
Aziz, the more diplomatic of them, swung an arm over her and Jay’s shoulder, “Let’s not get into another argument now. Even if it’s a stupid argument. We have a battle plan to do.”
#winner’s curse#chapter twenty five#my fanfic#my fanfiction#calix#jay#aziz#jordan#disney descendants
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just like last time im asking this for ALL ur charr cuz i cant pick one and ur url is irresistable, anyways - 🌳 (What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?)
I have to warn you this answer took me almost an entire day to write out, but I’m no mouse.
LONG answer below! I missed out the non-RP charr, charr that have died IC, and the other races, just for my own sanity.
Apnea Spiritmaul
Apnea is a Blood gal at heart, even if she is part of Iron Legion. She often spends her free time sparring with any Blood Legion she can find (and kicking their butts, usually.)
Arcturis Spiritmaw
Arcturis, being half-legionnaire, doesn’t get much free time. He does enjoy taking far-too-long showers when he can, though. He will also just lay in the snow if he is in that climate.
Nerium Primalgaze
(Yeah this isn’t alphabetical, I remade the alphabetical charr as her, hah.)
Nerium is the type to enjoy the smaller things in life. Good ‘company’, a nice bath...
Artaios Earthshaker
Earthshaker is a very, very old man. He spends his free time teaching any young charr who are interested in the ways of the Elements, or he sleeps. A lot.
Ashran Deadwar
Ashran is another charr that likes to spar. He’ll fight, or go to the bane to watch the fights there.
Auva Solarbeast / Ryta Thundervex
Auva likes to spend time with her mate Ryta, and the two enjoy stargazing, cloudwatching, or anything to do with the sky. Auva also likes to read to Ryta.
Barb Axefell
Barb was another charr that had little time. She works, she sleeps, and that’s about it.
Caye Bearbreaker
Copious amounts of ale. End answer.
Corax Lunarcaller/ Xyx Blacklunar
Corax likes to spend time with his ravens and also loves to read.
Cur Blitzpillager
Cur likes to go very, very fast on her bike. No destination needed.
Eris Spiritheart
Eris, much like her brother and co-legionnaire Arcturis, doesn’t get a lot of time. She used to spend all her free time with her mate, Vanessa, but since Vanessa died she’s mostly just been... Lost. She often just sits, staring into any bodies of water nearby.
Erro Sharkbone
Erro is the type that sleeps with one eye open, so she doesn’t really let herself have any downtime. She’s either working or being too paranoid to do anything but watch her back.
Freki The Vile
Lionguards and ‘free time’ don’t really mix. When she does find a few quiet minutes, Freki does quite enjoy fishing.
Gacrux Lifebringer
Gacrux is an avid reader, from leaflets she finds on her adventures, to books she may happen across. It’s debatable if she can actually READ, but she sure likes to look at words.
Geier Hearthhew
When Geier isn’t annoying the Adamant Guard, making unnecessary hassle for Warband charr, or stealing metal from the Citadel to pawn off to whoever may buy it, he likes to go grawl-watching.
Grus Lunarspark
Grus enjoys tinkering with his guns and gyros. Whilst in Drizzlewood, he picked up the enjoyment of fishing out of the need for something substantial to eat.
Hadar Tumultcleave
Hadar enjoys learning new spells. With the arrival of new-flame into the legions, he’s learning a lot more that he didn’t have a chance to before!
Invidere Envyheart
Invidere is a bit of a writer and will spend a few hours before sleep time writing if possible.
Purtia the Brazen
Purtia enjoys drinking whiskey, fighting Bloods, and taking trips out to the lakes to swim.
Kai Bossfang
Another fighty charr. How original!
King Tyant
King is currently in the Stockades. So, uh. Yeah. Not much he CAN do. He does enjoy singing, much to the jailer’s displeasure.
Malice Wrathwalker
Before he was a centurion, Malice would enjoy drinking with his warband, or going out for long ‘patrols.’ He has no time for that now, though.
Malin Lunarstone / Malin the Pallid
Malin has recently been trying to draw- which has been a hassle, as she’s more recently lost her writing hand. Doesn’t stop her. In the past, she would do alchemy as a hobby. She also brews and drinks a lot of tea.
Murren Rubblecroon
While Murren is a singer, he’s a terrible lyricist. But... His hobby is writing some of the worst, non-sensical lyrics ever derived from a charr.
Nenqe the Shield
Nenqe makes guitars as a hobby! She also enjoys eating.
Rallus Weldcog
Rallus enjoys tinkering with his mechanical devourerer and drinking beer.
Rouzl Crypticfury
I guess you could say Rouzl is a... story crafter. Because he likes to make up bullshit stories that never actually happened to make him look like a hero.
Rrul Rivecleave
Rrul enjoys a good whiskey, watching the Bane, and more recently spending time with his ‘mate’ (as much as he won’t admit she is,) Sargas.
Sargas Broadcinder
Sargas, being an ambassador of Greetsglory, has to keep herself as well-presented as possible at all times. She’d love to drink and fight, but she cannot.
Seamstress Kombucha
Kombucha likes to bake (terribly) in her spare time. It’s a shame her talent is all specced into tailoring, as she makes a lot of food waste.
Sergi Serpentfang
A charr well past her retirement and too stubborn to become a praetor, Sergi enjoyed complaining about how it used to be before the treaty, complaining about her useless cubs, and complaining about.... Well, anything else. BUT NOW SHE’S A FROSTY SO.
Skurr Arsonfume
Skurr is another pain in the Adamant's tail. He enjoys stealing, outrunning those he just stole from and making New Flame legion look bad, apparently.
Speldan Cinderquell
Speldan likes to visit Nolan to help with the devourerers. Recently, she’s taken a mild interest in magic thanks to her Legionnaire.
Syn Thunderstalker
Being a stinky no-friend flame-licker (And also some really bad crap I’d rather not talk about, but... Old flame. I’m sure you can imagine.)
Tamika Dustshot
Tamika likes to volunteer at the orphanage, hoping to change the children’s opinions on charr. She also raises tiger babies!
Temac Gemstrike
Another charr that likes to steal, but she doesn’t do it to cause problems like the last two. She’s actually GOOD at it.
The Truest One
Poor boy gets no free time. The reason why is a spoiler for my RP storyline, but he’s usually asleep...
Valun Nettlefall
Valun is a hobbyist entomologist! He’s a sniper and will hide out within the wilderness for days on end- he’s taken a liking to identifying and documenting bugs whilst he’s out there.
Vega Brinegut
Vega enjoys birdwatching! Not a very pirate-y activity for sure, but when you’re on the seas, seeing a bird is a sign of land coming soon.
Veta Wraithvine
Veta is still very much in training and dedicates most of her time to that. She does enjoy soaking in rivers when she can, though.
Vopros Redtail
Having recently joined the legions, Vopros doesn’t entirely know what to do with his new ‘freedom’. He likes to try a bit of everything.
Wurzel Cidersnout
Wurzel enjoys boardgames! He plays with his sire, Xeryl, and his brother, Wassail.
Xeryl Scrapzap
Xeryl doesn’t like board games as much as his cub. He plays them because he’s a good dad, but would rather be doing anything else... Like sleeping.
Xyx Blackrune
Xyx is an adventurer and likes to go to new, interesting places. She also enjoys cooking!
Yeens
Yeens likes to sew, even though she’s terrible at it. She tried to do repairs to her ship’s sails, but the first mate always redoes it after she botches it.
Zyre Endstrider
Zyre is a bit of a poet, writing edgy and depressing prose over a bottle of whiskey.
Aries Mistwalker
Another charr that doesn’t have much time. She’s a mist commander, and when she’s not sleeping, she’s leading the war.
Auxantious
Auxantious (Aka. The Ghost of Godslost) is usually looking for anyone that may need his help, or making potions in his mist-shrouded tent.
Boor Keenjaw
A huge glutton, Boor enjoys challenging others to eating contests. He always wins.
Breve Blackeye
Breve is an alcoholic. He drinks, a lot. He’s never really in the right mind for hobbies beside that.
Ceres Siezescrap
Ceres sometimes swings by the ranches when she needs some time out, sampling their wares and helping tend to the cows.
Congou Drakesdame
Congou is always on the move, but when she does settle, she likes to curl up with her drakes and read.
Falk Blazebane
As much as Blood has tried to ‘brainwash’ the young charr, Falk is still very much a free mind. He enjoys drawing, and has recently taken up cartography!
Firstmate Razormaw
Razormaw likes to grow plants on the ship! They near-always die, but it doesn’t dissuade her. She likes to sing to them.
Galao Blackcandle
Galao is usually always cooking. He does enjoy fishing, too, but he gets little time to.
Gannet Aegisjaw
Gannet likes to challenge Boor to eating contests. He never wins, but they both have a good time.
Gnarl Shattersiege
Gnarl loves to cook! And eat. He’s often found at the grills, making far too much meat and sharing it out with anyone who might be nearby.
Kallisti Smokehunt
Kallisti enjoys swimming, and is often seen at a lake. She enjoys seeing how long she can hold her breath underwater (She’s pretty good at it!)
Mayall Stargazer
Despite her name and job as an astrologist, Mayall turns to the ground for her hobbies. She enjoys studying plants and mushrooms!
Mehl Kilnsunder
Mehl is another charr who isn’t sure what to do with her new freedom. She really enjoys spending time with the other Whispers agents, one of them is currently teaching her how to read. She likes that.
Mitho Deathgrip
Another charr that’s always spoiling for a fight, Mitho is usually found getting in trouble by challenging charr double her size.
Parus Direblight
Parus likes to talk to the patrons of the bar he works in, and get to know them all. He may or may not take some back to his room. Damn mousepouncers.
Polaris Anvilstone
Polaris is a hobbyist brewer! It’s become a little more serious recently. They make all sorts of beers!
Rau Bitterbark
Rau spends all his free time doing fahrar refresher courses for charr who seem to have forgotten their training. This is his way of relaxing..?
Rauch Slypoison
Rauch likes to try new drinks and foods. She often hangs out in Divinity’s Reach, testing cocktails for a human barkeep there.
Rook Foulflare
Rook is another Entomologist! He raises the bugs, though.
Skar Battlebeat
Skar... Attempts to write songs. He's the drummer of his band for a reason, though- He cannot sing, or write. Rumor is he just does it to try to impess the lead singer...
Skellur Boomtooth
Skellur likes to do anything that makes a big noise. He often hangs at the cannons near the trading post, chatting to the workers when they’re not shooting at ghosts,
Spinel Blackcarve
Much like her name suggests, Spinel enjoys carving statues and toys for the cubs out of chunks of wood.
Tabus Anvilshift
Tabus enjoys reading, watching leylines,and being a bastard.
Teuen Venomwolf
Teuen enjoys listening to music, and reading. He doesn't like metal.
Tiburtius Rendsight
This charr never relaxes. Even if she could, she wouldn't.
Tuocha Blacksnow
Tuocha will go to any snowy climate and just lay in the snow. If he can't do that, he'll complain how hot it is, constantly.
Volca Slashthroat
Volca is a vile creature who wouldn't know 'fun' or 'relaxation' if it hit her in the face. The closest she gets is just killing indiscrimanately.
Vorrar
Vorrar is another cook, who often tried to make food out of things that do not belong in food. It never tastes good, and is hardly even edible half the time.
Vurmbait the Feral
Vurm doesn't eally have any hobbies besides trying to plot the downfall of the charr legions and the Olmakhan, and training herself to have a chance at doing that.
Xyx Blackbriar
No, this isn't the same Xyx, there's just multiples!
Xyx enjoys just being in nature, gathering moa feathers, and looking at plants. He's clueless about plants, but he likes them.
Yaxa Oozemaw
Yaxa likes to watch, and star in, sometimes, plays! She doesn't get to watch them often, but as soon as she's not on duty with Maw, she's looking for where to enjoy a good (or absolutely terrible) play.
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i’ll spend this summer by your side
{Lord Gendry Baratheon and Lady Arya Stark meet in Winterfell when they are just kids. Eventually, they grow up and the time for grown-up decisions comes. // a.k.a. gendrya arranged marriage childhood-friends-to-lovers au}
*ao3
*dedicated to the wonderful @yanak324 - darling, without you I would’ve never written this fic, let along post it. thank you so much for everything <3
When the bones are good, the rest don't matter
Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter
Let it rain 'cause you and I remain the same
When there ain't a crack in the foundation
Baby, I know any storm we're facing
Will blow right over while we stay put
The house don't fall when the bones are good
- The Bones, Marren Morris & Hozier
A day’s ride away from Storm’s End, Arya falls asleep in a deep, damp forest that smells so much different than the ones in the North. With a crumpled-up letter underneath her pillow, she dreams of the summer afternoon many years ago – of when Gendry first arrived at Winterfell.
She was a child then, of course, but she remembers it surprisingly well; clutching on her mother’s skirts and watching, wide-eyed, a procession of horses and wheelhouses streaming in through the castle’s main gate. Robert Baratheon looked like a giant from Old Nan’s tales with his black beard and booming voice, and she had to tell herself to be brave many, many times before she managed to clumsily curtsy in front of him; anxiousness making her tremble, lose her balance and stain the hem of her dress with mud.
She recalls that Sansa giggled quietly under her breath while she gracefully dipped down, all auburn-haired and perfect. And Arya could just hear it perfectly clear in this laughter, her sisters’ and Jeyne’s dirty little horseface-s, murmured behind her back all day long, so she lowered her eyes as her cheeks reddened.
But then someone kneeled in front of her, taking her gloved hands in his. And when she raised her chin slightly, there was the bluest stare that she has ever seen, bright and clear and looking at her softly.
‘’Greetings, my lady. My name’s Gendry. Can I ask for yours?’’
Gendry. He looked far older than her, of Jon’s age. And he had the same kindness in his voice, the same warmth hidden somewhere in those winter eyes and that gave her all the courage she needed.
With back straight and head held high, she answered:
‘’Arya. I’m not a lady, tho. Don’t call me that.’’
Her mother hissed her name sharply and Sansa gasped, but none of that even mattered, as Gendry smiled. Still on one knee, he raised her right hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles delicately, just like stupid knights in Sansa’s stupid songs.
‘’As you wish, my lady.’’
***
He is to be fostered in Stark’s household, yet another one her mother had sighed, but with no malice in her voice. It is an honor, no matter how one looked at it and even Arya understands that. First Theon Greyjoy, brought by Father like a souvenir from Rebellion. Prince Jon next, on the insistence of his mother, the Queen, who wanted her son to grow up in the North as she did. And then the heir to Lord Paramount of Stormlands, son of Father’s dear childhood friend.
Other boys give him some space to adjust to Winterfell and Sansa quickly deems him awfully gloomy and refuses to interact with him at all, her apparent delusions about finally meeting ‘’a true Southern nobleman ‘’ whatever that even means, shattered by Gendry’s stormy glare.
‘’I mean, he cannot even hold a proper conversation.’’ Arya overhears Sansa talking to Jeyne as they are sitting in the sewing room, embroidery hoops in their hands. That’s easily the most interesting thing Sansa has ever said around her.
But Arya herself is pretty curious about him. It is true, he looks gloomy and moody, he scowls all the time and doesn’t speak much at all, but so was Jon when he had first got here. Maybe he’s just shy? - she's wondering, although the notion does not work well with how he greeted her.
So, when she catches Gendry alone one time during breakfast, just as he’s stuffing his face with oatmeal in a decidedly-unlordlike manner, she laces her fingers behind her back and asks him boldly:
‘’Do you miss your home much?’’
His chewing stops abruptly and he’s staring at her all surprised, his cheeks puffed out with food. He looks so comedic like that, that she feels a bubble of laughter buzzing in her throat, but she is determined to keep it there. Laughing at him now would be unkind and Arya wants to be kind to Gendry, the way he was kind to her in the courtyard. So she just hops on the bench next to him, uninvited, and waits patiently for him to swallow his oats.
‘’I- I don’t know, really.’’ He answers sheepishly at last, a little red on the face and still looking at her as if he was not sure what she’s even doing, sitting so close to him.
‘’You don’t know if you miss your home?’’ she repeats, bewildered. ‘’I would die if they made me leave Winterfell!’’
No doubt about it. Lyarra left some time ago, Sansa’s constantly moaning and whining about going South, to Reach or King’s Landing, and even Robb has asked Father once or twice if he could go stay with their grandfather in the Riverlands - but Arya’s of North. She was born here and here she intends to stay.
The corners of Gendry’s mouth twitch a little, as if he was fighting a smile.
‘’I miss my sisters a lot, but it’s enough of you that it almost feels like they were with me.’’ He explains. ‘’And it’s as beautiful here as in Stormlands, if not more. Even, if it’s so darn cold.’’
Arya's heart swells. No one has ever told her that they think North is more beautiful than South, not even Jon who just keeps on repeating that it’s decidedly less stinky than the capital.
‘’I think it’s beautiful too.’’ She admits quietly. ‘’Sansa says one day Father will have to marry me off to one of his bannermen, cause no Southern lord will want me, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing at all. I never want to live in a place where there is no godswood. And I don’t want to marry anyway.’’
This time, he actually smiles at her and even chuckles for good measure.
It feels like an achievement, somehow.
‘’What do you want to do, then? If you don’t wish to marry?’’
Countless adults have asked her that before, but always in half-teasing, half-mocking tone, not believing any word she says. Gendry… Gendry seemed to be actually interested in her answer. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and back bent so they are on the same eye level.
And once again, she is hit by how blue his eyes are. Her mother has blue eyes, same as Robb and Sansa and Bran and even baby Rickon. Arya’s living surrounded by the sea of Tully blue eyes. And yet, Gendry’s are more intense somehow, less washed-down.
‘’I’m going to go behind a Wall and be a spear wife. Or be an explorer, like Sea Snake or Elisa Farman.’’ She dreams about all that and more, about adventure and thrill. ‘’I’m gonna go to Shivering Sea and bring back an ice dragon with me, so everyone would know they really exist. I want to see the Wall and the Lands of Always Winter. ’’
She’s fully prepared for him to laugh at her. Everyone does. Even Father, even Jon, although their laugh is good-natured.
But Gendry doesn’t.
He just nods at her declarations and states:
‘’I don’t want to marry either, or to be a lord. If I could, I’d just be a blacksmith.’’
And just like that, suddenly, they are friends.
***
Sansa and Arya have their lessons separately of boys, probably to avoid subjects that may possibly wound their delicate young minds, but Arya keeps on begging Gendry long and hard enough that he gives in eventually and tells her more about Rheagar’s Rebellion, about Tourney at Harrenhall and The Great Conspiracy.
It is a little embarrassing, talking to him about all this, but less so if she touched the topic with Jon, who is always very tight-lipped about his parents. However, with years passing by, Arya begins thinking about her aunt more and more, with this kind of insatiable curiosity that surpasses any notions of being proper. Everyone knows that Rheagar Targaryen offered her grandfather a crown for his daughter in exchange for Rickard Stark’s men and loyalty. Everyone knows that Lyanna was promised to Gendry’s father at that time, but Lord Rickard, being an ambitious and reasonable man, agreed to Prince’s proposal, having easily calculated how far above Lady of Storm’s End is Queen of The Seven Kingdoms. Everyone knows of the Rebellion and King Aerys’ death and how Baratheons were the last ones to kneel in front of the new king.
The one thing that Arya wonders about is what exactly was Lyanna’s Stark position in all that.
Jeyne and Sansa and even Lyarra always make it into a song; of love forbidden, of blue winter roses, of Wolf Lady and Dragon Prince.
To Arya, it seems more mundane; more like a girl sold to the highest bidder.
‘’I met her, once.’’ Gendry tells her in Godswood, skipping rocks on the still surface of one of the hot pools. ‘’During the royal tour through Westeros.’��
‘’What she’s like?’’ she asks, hungry for details. Father never wants to talk much about aunt Lyanna. Jon rarely even mentions her name and every time he does, it is laced with such a desperate longing that Arya quickly learned to avoid the subject to spare him the hurt.
‘’Beautiful.’’ Gendry crunches on the bank of the lake, staring at the circles on the water. The cold breeze is playing with his dark hair, making it even messier than possible. He’s one and ten now, already taller than Theon and Robb and it doesn’t seem he’s about to stop growing any time soon. Standing next to him, Arya feels even smaller than usual. ‘’Dark-haired, long-faced. She looks like your father and you.’’
Her cheeks redden against her will. Many Northerners have told her that, which makes her head spin a bit, unsure how to imagine a woman who was somehow both beautiful and similar to her.
‘’Yeah, but I’m not asking about her appearance. I’m asking what she’s like.’’
Gendry ponders about her question for a bit, which she is well used to by now. He always takes his time thinking, making people call him stupid and slow behind his back. Which is both unfair and untrue – he doesn’t have a head for numbers like Arya or for houses and histories like Bran, but he is not dim-witted in any way. Especially when the issues of household management and smallfolk are concerned.
I know he doesn’t want that, but he’ll make a wonderful lord one day, crosses her mind from time to time, watching as Gendry calls every single servant by their name and how he always remembers to pay a visit to the orphanage when they are in Winter Town.
‘’Sad.’’ He settles on, still avoiding her gaze. ‘’Kind and sad. For me, she looked quite lonely.’’
‘’How else can she look like? A wolf can never be happy in the cage. And I heard Father saying she has true wolf's blood, the way uncle Brandon had.’’ Arya doesn’t remember him well; he died when she was barely more than a child, slain while storming Great Wyk. His wife and daughter used to live with them a few years after he passed away, but then Lady Barbrey decided to go back to Rills to her father, so now even Lyarra is not around to remind everyone of Brandon’s hot-blooded nature and Arya lost a partner in horse riding or secret archery lessons.
‘’Well, good luck to anyone ever trying to cage you.’’ Gendry says, playfully tugging on the end of her braid and making her shriek. ‘’You’re way too wild for that, Arya. Also, you’re all dirty from that leaves and we are already late for dinner, so enough of histories for now.’’
***
‘’One more time.’’ She orders, smirking, when the only answer she hears is a pained groan. ‘’Come on, you were the one who asked me to help you.’’
‘’It’s utterly embarrassing that you’re so good at this and I’m so hopeless.’’ Gendry fixes his stare on the parchment on the desk as if it personally offended him. ‘’These are just swimming in front of my eyes.’’
‘’Books are important.’’ Arya rests her cheek on the stone wall, letting it warm her skin pleasantly. ‘’If you don’t understand books-‘’
‘’-my liege lords will cheat me out of taxes, yeah, I know. But still. Can’t I just ask someone to check them for me?’’
‘’I suppose you can. If you trust this person enough.’’
Gendry sends her a side smile and leans back on his chair.
‘’Well, shame I don’t trust you then. As I don’t know anyone better at sums than you.’’
‘’Why don’t you trust me? How dare you even say so.’’ She presses her hands to her chest in fake-offense, deciding to ignore his praise. ‘’The audacity you have.’’
‘’Don’t play with me, Arry. You’re a terrible cheat. Especially at cards.’’
‘’It’s called strategy!’’
‘’Sure it is.’’
‘’It’s not my fault you are a sore loser.’’
‘’Only with you, my lady. Only with you. I wouldn’t be a sore loser if you were winning fair and square.’’
''Besides, I don't think it's really possible to cheat at monsters-and-maidens. Or come-into-my-castle.''
''And somehow you manage to do just so.''
***
Father lets Gendry work in the forge with Mikken sometimes when all his other duties are done, and Gendry simply loves it, loves it beyond all else – it doesn’t take a lot to notice that. Arya thinks him content enough most of the time, maybe even happy when he spars with Robb on the courtyard, warhammer against sword, or when he playfully wrestles with Bran and Rickon, always letting them win, or when he goes riding with Jon and they sneak her out so she can join them. But smithing, smithing is something else entirely.
‘’That’s just so common.’’ Jeyne Poole wheezes once, outraged, as Gendry passes them on a way to his chambers, soot coving his forearms.
Arya could just strangle her. Instead, she stops abruptly and stomps her foot.
‘’I don’t see how it’s something wrong. Other lords hunt with hawks or gamble – at least Gendry will do something useful at Storm’s End!’’
Jeyne opens her mouth and then closes it, clearly shocked. For a moment she seems to be looking for a good enough reply, but apparently comes short, because she eventually settles on gasping loudly and hurrying away, leaving Arya on the corridor alone.
Escaping from her embroidery lessons, Arya often goes to watch Gendry, as Septa Mordane would never even think of looking for her in the forge. So she has perfected sneaking in and perching on the workbench after discarding outer layers to bask in the heat. They don’t talk - to be honest, she is not sure he notices her much at all, too engrossed in his work. Surrounded by the sound of metal hitting metal and billows of smoke, Gendry looks so much different than he usually does, almost like he is some stranger.
Like he is a baseborn blacksmith, not a highborn heir to one of the Seven Kingdoms.
And Arya is wondering many times, as Gendry’s hammering hilts of swords with such force that the sound must be echoing through very bones of Winterfell; would they even meet if he was not nobility? If they both weren’t noble? For sure they wouldn’t, coming from where they come from, a whole continent between them. Even if they both were bastards (she scoffs internally at the idea; as if her father could ever have any children outside wedlock) she would be a Snow and he would be a Storm and bastard boys don’t get fostered, so they would never cross paths.
So, as much as she hates the notion of being a noble lady sitting idly and sewing all day long, she is grateful for being a Stark and she is grateful that he is a Baratheon. If only because she gets to sit between Gendry and Jon during meals and toss her greens onto their plates. If only because she got to meet Gendry and to bicker with him and to see his smile.
On her tenth name day, he and Jon wake her up early and the first thing she sees is a short, narrow sword in Gendry’s hands.
‘’It’s – uhm, it’s for you.’’ He mumbles, his head low as he’s setting it on her lap.
Arya, breathless, runs her fingers along the hilt, tracing the elegant twist of silver metal. It’s perfect, it’s beautiful, it’s everything she has ever wanted. Sharp and slight, just like her.
Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I’ve got a Needle of my own.
‘’It was Jon’s idea.’’ Gendry adds hastily, before she manages to open her mouth.
‘’Aye, but Gendry made it.’’ Jon smiles with this shy, gentle smile of his. ‘’Don’t sell yourself short.’’
‘’You… made it for me?’’ Arya lets out, bewildered. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she registers Jon’s ruffling her hair and wishing her happy birthday, but all she has eyes for are Gendry’s blushed face, his blue stare and grime underneath his fingernails that flashes when he fiddles with the pelt on her bed.
His hands. He made a sword for her with these hands.
Gendry just nods in reply, smiling.
‘’It’s mostly Mikken work, to be honest, I just helped out, so it should be- uff!’’
Arya has her arms around his neck before he can even finish the sentence, burying her face in his shoulder. When he tentatively hugs her back, she feels so, so happy she could burst.
***
Old Nan is saying to anyone who cares to listen that it’s the longest summer in the living memory and it feels like that sometimes, it really does.
After snows have melted and it got warmer, warm enough that even Northerners shed their furs and expose their pale skin to the sun, one sunny morning, all of them, Winterfell little lords and ladies, go to the hot pools.
It is Arya’s favorite day ever and remains so for many years to come.
Even Sansa comes, sweeter than usually and giggling lightly in her pretty periwinkle dress as she sits on the blanket and plays with Lady, who is desperately trying to catch the loose ribbons around her mistress’ wrists.
Jon also doesn’t swim; he's just standing awkwardly in the shallow part for the whole time, refusing to go any deeper no matter how they all push and pull, Robb and Theon laughing at him as they cut through the water with ease. The direwolves are still just puppies, all adorably confused by the lake before bravely hopping in and paddling one by one around the edge of the pool - all but Ghost, who, mirroring his master, is deeply distrustful of going in. Instead of following, he opts for sniffling the cattails and stumbling on his little paws in haste to get away when his siblings climb out and shrug water from their fur.
Rickon jumps in with a wild roar, splashing everyone head-to-toe and diving to nip at their ankles until Robb loops his little arms around his neck and hauls him across the lake and back.
And Gendry grabs Arya by the waist and seats her on his shoulders, so that she can reach up and pick fluffy white catkins from the willow trees above them, gathering them in her palms before letting them scatter on his dark hair like snowflakes. He holds her pale calves tightly, grinning up at her and avoiding incoming swimmers so she won’t fall into the water.
The air smells like grass and berries and lemon cakes; it’s vibrant with laughter. Gendry’s wet hair sticks to his head after he ducks underwater with her still perched on his shoulders and she uses this moment to jump off, right underneath the surface. They meet face-to-face, bubbles of air escaping from the corners of their mouths, but he doesn’t see her; he’s keeping his eyes closed as he’s floating.
He’s smiling so widely that she’s afraid his cheeks will split.
When she reaches for his hands and his fingers immediately curl around hers, instinctively knowing it’s her without having to open his eyes, something beautiful and painful blooms in her chest for the very first time.
***
‘’Tell me, Arya, whom do you prefer, Jon or Gendry?’’ Bran asks her once when she is ten and two and she scrunches her nose at how weirdly this question is phrased.
‘’What do you even mean by that?’’
‘’Well.’’ Bran slides from the windowsill to take a seat in front of her, the abandoned board of cyvasse spread in between them. ‘’You know they will probably marry you off to one of them, right?’’
What.
‘’How do you know that?’’ she manages to stutter. Marry... Jon? Her? Jon has been like an older brother to her for so long that at some point she forgot he is actually her cousin.
And Gendry?
Gendry, a maiden’s daydream. Even Sansa can’t ignore him anymore and suddenly stopped complaining about his rough manners. Even Jeyne keeps her mouth shut now and turns red when he says hello to her. He is too tall for that, too broad and too skilled with his warhammer. Whores in Winter Town fawn at the sight of him, making him walk with his head low when he is passing brothels.
Marrying Gendry would be-
No, just no.
‘’That’s obvious. They both seem to like you a lot, gods know why-‘’ Bran smoothly avoids her smack, leaning back on his chair and continuing his rant, ‘’- and with Sansa going to King’s Landing – well, I think Mother and Father would make a very smart deal, arranging your marriage with either of them. These are also the only betrothals you could possibly agree too.’’
‘’I would never agree to marry Jon.’’ Arya states, suddenly feeling hot. She keeps her eyes glued to the dices laying on the table, just not to see Bran’s mischievous eyes. She knows what he is going to say and he doesn’t prove her wrong.
‘’And Gendry?’’
Gendry; billows of steam around him.
Gendry; his chest glistening with sweat as he brings the hammer down.
Gendry; calling her ‘’my lady’’ and laughing as she gets mad.
You would like Stormlands, he told her once, when they were deep in the forest, looking for wild berries. It’s harsh in the same way North is.
But it’s too hot, she moaned in response. - Northerners were not made to live that far South.
You could also say Southerners were not made to live that far North, he countered, reaching for her hand and helping her jump over a toppled tree trunk.- But I and your mother live here and we manage just fine.
Instead of answering, she silently stands up and leaves the solar, fuming, with Bran’s triumphant laughter chasing her.
***
Arya hates passionately nearly all the female skills Septa Mordane tries to instill in her, be it riding sidesaddle, embroidery or the art of polite yet meaningless conversations - but there is one exception that makes all the difference.
Dancing.
She loves, loves dancing, and even tho those least proper are her favorite, she does not find it too painful to go through the most formal ones. There is something about spinning and clapping to the rhythm of the music that reminds her very much of sparring with Bran, her Needle in her hand.
After all, sword duels do look like dancing at times, in cases when it’s more about swiftness and agility than brute strength. When she was ten, her father secretly hired her a Braavosi water dancing teacher and well, let’s just say that spinning has long become a natural way of moving for her.
Still, everyone is shocked when she takes to her dancing lessons with no complaining; more so, when in mere weeks she twirls around her teacher gracefully, her skirts swishing around her ankles. She’s good at that, effortlessly; for the first time in her life she truly good at being a girl, shutting everyone’s mouths and making Mother smile proudly in the same way she smiles when Sansa presents her with needlework – and it makes Arya feel both weirdly unsteady and giddy. To her delight, she manages to learn slower styles quickly enough, that soon she’s going through faster and more complex steps, never missing a beat, smiling widely at Jon who often offers to partner her.
There is nothing challenging for her about dancing, really.
Not until she gets to dance with Gendry.
‘’You’re such an oaf.’’ – she whines, trying to adjust his stiff grip on her waist. ‘’It’s not so hard, seven hells, let loose a bit!’’
And he just stares at her, wide-eyed and unsure like a newborn fawn. One could think that she has him on knifepoint, not in the empty chambers where she asked him to help her practice.
In the hindsight, she should’ve just waited for Jon.
‘’Didn’t they teach you to dance in Storm’s End? Didn’t they teach you here, with the rest of boys?’’ she asks as he steps on her toes for the fourth time, completely out of rhythm even though she counts it out loud for his benefit.
‘’They did.’’ He spits roughly in response, suddenly dropping her hands and turning his back on her.
Arya’s left standing frozen, her arms loose by her sides and mouth opened.
‘’What has gotten into-‘’
‘’What’s that dress?’’
She looks down at her gown. It’s an old one of Sansa’s, altered in order fit Arya’s shorter frame. She needs a dress to practice dancing well, unfortunately, so she’s taken to wearing them more often, and this one is not terrible. It’s fairly practical, without those stupid dragging sleeves or a train. Just yellow linen trimmed with white lace around the collar.
She thinks it’s quite pretty.
‘’What about it?’’ she asked, bewildered.
‘’How come you’re walking around now, wearing dresses and dancing? Though you did not want any of this?’’ He is still not facing her, so she cannot read his expression. But his voice sounds heavy and rough and so, so unlike his. ‘’Though it was not you. Have you forgotten? You’re not Jeyne or Sansa, Arya. ’’
There is silence stretching between them and for a moment, all Arya hears is the hum of blood in her ears, boiling with anger.
She crosses the room in two long strides and slams her fists onto Gendry’s back, furiously hitting him until he turns around and seizes her wrists.
‘’Ough, Arya, seven hells-‘’
‘’How dare you!’’ There are tears spilling down her cheeks, hot tears of anger, but she just doesn’t care because how dare he. ‘’You think – just because- you think it’s only for Sansa? That I cannot be good at anything like that just because I’m – I’m-‘’
Against her best intentions get drowned in sobs and suddenly she falls forwards into Gendry’s arms, her forehead pressed against his chest. He’s anxiously patting her back, mumbling to her to calm down, but all she can do is cry.
‘’Just because I’m ugly, do you think I cannot be any good in dancing?’’ she sobs, her voice drowned against the leather of his doublet and she gasps in surprise as he grabs her shoulders and tears her away from him, leaning down to look her in the eyes.
‘’Arya, what are you even talking about?’’ he whispers, clumsily wiping tears from her cheeks. ‘’You’re pretty. So pretty. How can you even – don’t listen to Sansa, gods.’’
Gendry is a honest lad. He does not really try to kiss anyone’s arse or play pleasantries. He has also never been in any way dishonest to her. But now… now he’s both serious and honest, as he, once again, takes her hands into hers and repeats, loud and clear:
‘’You are not ugly. Don’t ever think like that.’’
She bits on her lip, searching for any note of falsehood in his voice, on his face. But she comes empty-handed.
‘’So why did you get angry?’’ she asks quietly, lowering her eyes to their linked hands.
He also looks down, suddenly sheepish, with faint blush coloring his cheekbones.
‘’It was stupid. I was stupid, I’m sorry. I just thought that you’re not interested in – all of that. And that maybe now you decided to mimic other girls. Which you don’t have to do. Sorry.’’ He shrugs and Arya knows that if he had free hands, he would be scratching the back of his neck.
‘’I am not.’’ She admits. ‘’I’m not – I’m not trying to be Jeyne. Or Sansa. I still think most of those things that Septa Mordane teaches me are stupid. But I like dancing.’’ She pauses for a moment, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. ‘’And I like this dress. And I think – maybe I don’t have to be one thing only. Maybe I could be a good dancer and a good horse rider. And I don’t need breeches to be a good archer. Maybe... I could be just me. ’’
Mother would gasp at her logic, Father would shake his head with this kind, sad smile of his.
Gendry just nods slowly, straightens his back and pulls them into a starting position again, this time leading her on the floor with a grace she would never suspect he possesses. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t reply to her words. He just smiles at her softly, his grip gentle, as they move through steps and figures. And she knows that he understands exactly what she means.
***
The night before Gendry leaves Winterfell, she jumps from under the covers the exact moment when Sansa starts to snore and quickly wraps herself up in furs to keep the chill away. The castle is quiet and basked in the light of the full moon; not that it matters in slightest. She could probably make her way blindfolded, for how well she knows it.
She finds him exactly where she expected; he adds some extra logs to the fireplace in the forge, stripped to his shirt and breeches. When she loudly coughs to announce her presence, he swiftly spins on the balls of his feet and greets her with a smile devoid of even an ounce of surprise.
‘’Came to say goodbye, didn’t you?’’ she asks, trying to keep her tone light, but she obviously fails, cause his brow immediately furrows and the corners of his lips drop down.
‘’Yeah.’’ His voice is soft like kitten’s fur, softer than ever before. He sits on the workbench and motions for her to move closer. Settling on the worn-out wood, she feels something heavy dropping in her stomach. She has been in this forge a thousand times and more already, but without Gendry here, she will have no reason to come again.
It’s almost as if he’s to take a part of her home away with him.
She lays her head on his shoulder and he takes her hands in his (when did his hands grow so big, how did that happen?) and for a moment, they just sit in silence uninterrupted by anything except the crackling of the fire and the sound of their breathing.
‘’I’m gonna miss it so much.’’ He admits at last, keeping his head low as always when he’s being very serious.
‘’The forge?’’
‘’The forge, Winterfell. The North. Your family. Jon.’’ he counts down. ‘’Hmm, and I suppose I will maybe miss you. Just a little though. Finally, some rest from your blabber.’’
Arya gasps at that, showing him off the bench to the floor, where he lays, laughing.
‘’I do not blabber!’’
‘’You do, sometimes.’’
‘’I do not!’’
They shoot back and forth, until Arya quiets down and bites on her lip. No more bickering.
Her eyes sting a bit, so she closes them and flops down on the bench.
‘’Will we ever see each other again?’’ she asks, refusing to look at him and swallowing the bile in the throat. She instantly wishes she did not utter this question, because how will she make it through if he says they won’t?
But Gendry is Gendry, so he doesn’t.
He raises up on his feet and sits down on her right side, this time wrapping his arm around her and pressing her closer to him, so that her head is resting on his chest.
‘’We will.’’ He answers, full of will and conviction. ‘’I don’t think there is anyone who could stop you from doing what you really want, Arya. So if you will ever want to see me, you will find a way. And I-‘’ he hesitates for a moment as if he was trying to phrase his thoughts in a right way. ‘’- and I will find a way to see you again too.’’
‘’Okay.’’ She says softly, gripping the material of his linen undershirt and pressing her nose to it, trying to memorize how he smells, how he sounds, how he feels, trying to burn it in her mind. ‘’Okay, Gendry. No goodbyes, then.’’
He rests his chin on her head and when he breaths out deeply, her stomach does a somersault. Suddenly, a thought crosses her mind like a flash; how we must look like, sitting like this. What would someone say, if they saw us now?
But it quickly evaporates, when his lips brush her hair and she hears his whisper.
‘’Aye, Arry. No goodbyes.’’
***
To her despair, Jon soon follows Gendry; riding back to King’s Landing, he leaves behind a string of maidens with broken hearts and Arya’s parents pretending they were not trying to find an excuse to make him stay as long as possible. And with his departure, things start to change for good right in front of her eyes.
For starters, for the very first time in her life, Arya learns how terribly and crushing lonely one can feel in their own home, surrounded by their own family. She has already flowered, meaning that even Father won’t allow her to roll in the mud with a training sword anymore – not that she would have any partners in that anyway, with Syrio Forell also leaving, claiming loudly that he’s ‘’too old for living in such a stern climate and freezing his bones off every night’’.
Margaery Tyrell comes to Winterfell, all pretty and smiling, her rose-embroidered dresses too light for the cold and her cheeks always rosy. And Robb falls, even Arya can see that - he falls so hard and quick that it seems almost unbelievable. Soon, he’s all for strolling around the castle, chest puffed like a peacock and his betrothed by his side, too busy with getting out of his skin to impress Margaery to even notice anyone else, let alone his little underfoot sister.
And Arya likes Margaery well enough, even if she’s instantly Sansa’s new best friend the moment she steps through the threshold (she’s kinder than Jeyne, at least) – but the whole flurry of wedding-related activity makes her sick, especially since she cannot sit in the back of the room with Gendry and make fun of all this pomp and extravagance.
Right before Robb’s wedding, Mother starts to get terrible headaches (the aftermath of raising too many children, she grumbles) and is often bed-ridden, which forces her to finally allow Father to send Rickon to Riverrun. He is to stay with uncle Blackfish for a while, with the hope that maybe it will temper his wild energy a little – fool’s hope, in Arya’s humble opinion, but it’s not like anyone asks her for it.
Bran squires for one of Stark’s bannermen and every free time he has, he devotes to visiting Greywater Watch and the Reeds.
Arya is deprived even of Sansa’s meager company as both her sister and goodsister are busy preparing a dowry for Sansa’s upcoming nuptials. Then Sansa goes South, as eagerly as possible, and the castle becomes ever quieter, unnerving Arya so that she feels she’s surely going to go mad. Robb’s all Lord-like now, Margaery’s wobbling around pregnant and glowing and it’s all terribly, excruciatingly dull.
So Arya fills her days with silently sitting by Father’s and Robb’s sides as they ‘re taking petitions and lonely horse rides with Nymeria. The winter is truly and well coming now, so there is a lot of work with properly securing livestock and supplies coming from the Reach and every pair of hands is needed, even if hers are small and soft. She goes to visit Lyarra and aunt Barbrey once or twice and tags along with Bran to meet his betrothed, Meera. She practices archery with Theon, bothers Winterfell’s staff for hours with no end and talks with smallfolk more than it is proper. Twice a week, there are kids in the Winter Town orphanage waiting for her to come and teach them letters and it’s honestly far more fun than she thought it would be.
However, there are letters of another kind that become her main source of entertainment; every day she nags Maester Luwin endlessly, inquiring about ravens and looking for them in the sky or locking herself up with ink and quills in her chambers, pouring all the unsaid words on the parchment.
Jon writes often; mostly narrations of his days at court and some amusing anecdotes about annoying nobles. His letters abruptly stop coming for four moons around a year after his departure and when they resume, he is different. Head over heels in love and married.
To his aunt in fact, which would be a little weird in any other case, but Arya supposes they are Targaryens after all. Even if King Rheagar decided to try to stop the traditional inbreeding by sending for Northern bride for his eldest son and marrying Princess Rhaenys into House Tyrell, no one is really that shocked by Princess Daenerys giving her hand to Prince Jon, especially given that her brother, Prince Viserys, has been one of the victims of the Rebellion.
I heard she’s gorgeous. Congratulations on your marriage, Jon. – she replies politely to the announcement and buries her face in her hands, sitting still for hours afterward.
Dear Arya, I am so very happy, becomes an opening line of every Jon’s letter since then and it makes her oh so confused and even more conflicted.
She has taken to watching her parents closer than ever; observing how they speak with each other, how they seem to understand one another even without any words exchanged. How they stroll through glass gardens during sunny afternoons, laughing quietly.
Accidental marriage, that’s what we are, her mother said to Sansa once, forgetting that Arya was also present, which seems to be a theme for women in her family. I was to marry your late uncle Brandon and gods forgive me, I was not very pleased when I ended up with his brother, nor was my lord father. But it all turned out for the best. By the time I became Lady of Winterfell, I didn’t care much for the title at all. I just wanted to be by Ned’s side.
Arya knows she is well past betrothal age. She knows everyone is wondering why her parents turned every single one of her suitors down. She would very much like to believe that’s because they decided to let her never marry and stay in Winterfell forever like she has begged them for many years, but it’s been a long time since that afternoon game of cyvasse with Bran and she is nowhere as naïve now as then.
She is spoken for, promised to, even if silently, even with no one mentioning that at all. And she is still trying to figure out if it makes her angry or not at all.
She feels Father’s gaze heavy on her every time she makes her way into the Godswood, a letter pressed to her chest.
Gendry writes rarely and even when he does, his letters are shorter than Jon’s, which also makes them infinitely more significant. He is not a man of many words and he is very busy now – it is not spoken loudly, but it is practically a common knowledge that Robert Baratheon is well on his way to drink and whore himself to death, so any duties that Gendry’s mother was fulfilling during his stay in Winterfell fell on his shoulders as soon as he returned. Arya understands all of that. At the same time, she still selfishly wishes for more; she just misses talking to him, the banter and silliness and honesty – all of it. There’s no one else who gets her better. No one who takes her as seriously as he did.
So she dutifully sends her own letters every week, raven after raven, even when there’s not much to write about, and cherishes whatever reply appears.
One time, sitting in Godswood with Nymeria’s heavy head resting on her lap, she realizes that, at some point, all of it has stopped feeling like living; it feels like endless waiting, holding her breath. She is still in Winterfell, but what good is that if everyone else is gone or different. Everyone seems to be moving on to some grand things, with only her stubbornly stuck.
And then.
Do you think still that marriage is always a cage? Gendry writes to her exactly three years after he went away and Arya’s not stupid. She knows where this conversation would lead.
She just isn’t sure if she wants to actually have it.
I think there are cages in which one feels content. - she replies carefully, after trying out tens of different ways of conveying her thoughts and tearing them all into pieces.- But I still think caging a wolf may not be the wisest idea at all.
That time, the letter from Storm’s End comes quickly, probably as quickly as the raven managed, poor thing.
She goes riding for half a day until she gathers enough courage to read it, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of parchment all spotted with fat blotches of ink, as if Gendry pressed his quill way too hard in several places.
Even wolves have their hunting grounds, right? Vast, with a lot of space to breath. Their pack around them, running together. Not a cage, but a home.
With her heart beating fast, she closes her eyes for a second. All of it feels so heavy, so final. Couldn’t they just go back to being children in Winterfell? Why must they all grow up?
It makes her so angry. Where are those summer afternoons, what happened with them – with Gendry’s hands innocent on her ankles, keeping her safe and secure?
But then she comes back to reading and gasps at the next paragraph.
Arya, I am no bard, really. You know that. Must we do it this way? I need a lady and miss you so much and gods damn me, if you weren’t always the only lady for me. Come to Stormlands. Marry me. I promise, I will never cage you. You can call yourself a lord. You can call yourself a blacksmith’s wife. I don’t care. Please, just be with me.
‘’Stupid.’’ Arya murmurs under her breath, feeling fondness filling her head to toe. Gendry always had a way of making things simple, of making her feel at ease.
She looks out of the window; at the silent courtyard, empty, save for a few servants hurrying to the kitchens for their supper. She supposes she could stay here, or tell her parents she will marry close to home and come back as often as possible. She doesn’t have to leave or cross the entire continent.
But her days would be long and empty; her nights - cold. She would feel like a tree with its roots unmovable, forever in Winterfell’s soil. Bored out of her mind and static. She would be content enough, probably, only it’s never what she wanted. What she wanted was an adventure –
And what is a bigger adventure than going South? Managing a castle the way she wants? Spending the rest of her life with her very best friend?
There’s also the issue of duty, of course. Her duty towards her parents, towards the North. As much as Arya hates politics, she’s aware of how powerful betrothals are. Marriages mean security and supplies and wellbeing of the Houses involves and those, who serve those Houses. It was a coincidence that Robb’s bride came from Reach just as the winter was about to come for good. And her marriage to Gendry would potentially bring many, many benefits for the North, for the still-too-empty coffers and stocks.
Besides. Much better her best friend than some random Northern lord, who would take her Needle away and delegate her to women’s quarters to bear one child after another and gossip with other ladies until her ears fall off. Gendry would never do that to her, of that she can be sure.
Maybe it will be summer again, by his side.
***
Arya likes long letters, rambling and elaborate.
But her last one is the shortest by far, sent just before she straightens her back and knocks on the door to Father’s study.
Dear Gendry,
Just to make it clear; don’t ever expect me to bow down to you.
But aye. I will marry you.
Yours, Arya
***
Ned Stark listens to her words with a solemn expression on his face, but when she’s finished, the corners of his lips raise up slightly.
‘’I knew this day would come someday.’’ He sighs heavily, reaching for one of the parchments laying on his table and placing it in front of her, so she could read it. “This is what Robert left me, along with Gendry.’’
The contents of the letter make her eyebrows shoot up.
It’s a godsdamned, straight-up business proposal of Robert Baratheon to her father, asking him to consider marrying her or Sansa to Gendry. There’s a lot of bullshit about joining families and old history, because Robert is still beyond obsessed with aunt Lyanna, even after all those years.
But at the root of it, it looks like any trade agreement she has seen in her life. And that just makes Arya so, so mad.
‘’I’m showing it to you now, because I feel you have a right to know.’’ her father says, before she has a chance to respond. ‘’But I don’t think it should influence your decision. As far as I know, Robert did not mention his wish to his boy either, which means you two chose each other on your own free will. That’s a good groundwork for marriage, Arya.’’
Does free will really exist? - she wants to ask him, anger dying down into something akin to cool resignation in her gut. – Will I marry Gendry out of any feelings I might have for him, or out of loneliness or lack of a better alternative? Or maybe because it will make you and Mother happy? Does it even matter?
Ultimately, in a world she lives in, it doesn’t. So she closes her mouth and nods slowly when Father asks her if he should write to Lord Robert officially.
She just wishes it wouldn’t feel so bitter.
‘’Do you think we will work well? Together?’’ she asks quietly just before leaving the study and this time her father chuckles, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.
‘’Aye, in fact. I do, Arya. I like this lad. And he always smiles around you and you only.’’
***
So now she’s where she is, Storm’s End on the horizon and anxiousness bubbling in her stomach.
Mother forced her into a proper gown in the morning, deaf to Arya’s arguments that Gendry has already seen her in breeches and linen shirts and still asked her to marry him, so she does not need to be all dolled up. At least the dress is nice – forest green, embellished with golden embroidery and with a corset that somehow allows her to breathe. It, unfortunately, shows off more cleavage than she’s comfortable with, but she supposes it couldn’t be allowed with those stupid Southern fashions. She braided her hair herself – it’s so long now that it reaches the small of her back, so she opted for a simple Northern style, nothing too fancy, even accounting for the yellow ribbon woven through it. Her hands are clean, nails trimmed. She supposes she looks pretty, as much as she can.
She’s no Sansa. But, as far as she knows, Gendry never wanted Sansa anyway.
Why am I so nervous?
It’s just Gendry.
Three and a half years. How much did he change during that time?
How much did she?
They open the gates for them and suddenly she is the one riding into a courtyard of a foreign castle that she’s now supposed to call her home. I should’ve asked him how it felt like for him.
Storm’s End is just one drum tower, unlike any other holdfast she has ever seen. But it’s a very tall tower, she’ll give it that. It shoots up into the sky like a giant’s fist, the tip of it seemingly tearing through grey clouds above them.
Only Hightower in Oldtown is taller, as far as the towers go. Quality over quantity. - Bran said to her cheekily sometime before she left Winterfell. – I heard Lord’s chambers are up on the very top; you will have a nice view of the sea. It must feel like sleeping in a nest.
This castle fits Gendry somehow, with its strong, simple build. There are no frivolities in the grey walls, only endurance. Not a single unnecessary element, just brick and mortar and magic that helped it survive centuries and centuries. Solace and safety.
Arya thinks that even if she cannot love it like she loves Winterfell, she can at least respect Storm’s End for this one reason.
The whole staff stands in the half-circle around them, lowering their heads and curtsying when they dismount. Mother has insisted on coming, despite her aches – maybe because she still doesn’t seem to be very convinced Arya has actually agreed to marry someone – so she slowly and stiffly emerges from the wheelhouse. And Arya stands still, reigns in her hand and her eyes glued to the ground, because if she dares to look up – if she even steals a glance –
But before she can make that decision by herself, someone kneels on the gravel in front of her, making her stupid heart beat faster in her chest. Of course, of course, he does that, because he is one big, stupid oaf.
‘’Hello, my lady.’’
Despite her best efforts, her lips curve into a smile and she lets him take her hand.
Gendry Baratheon’s voice is still warm and deep, and his eyes are still bluest she has ever seen.
But when he kisses her knuckles… oh, they are truly grown now. And betrothed to each other. And it all comes crashing down on her suddenly, this realization.
He’s going to marry me. I’m going to marry him. Oh, gods.
Her panicked train of thoughts is interrupted by the collective gasp of gathered people when something big and grey moves from her side and pounces on Gendry, making him lose his balance and land on his ass on the ground.
Arya’s honestly a little bit annoyed with Nymeria, because the way she behaves is just ridiculous. She’s supposed to be this proud, scary direwolf, reminding those damned Southerners that Arya remains a Stark no matter what, that she has North in her blood and her very bones. She is supposed to be wild and untamed.
Instead, her horse-sized wolf hops in circles around Gendry, wagging her tail like an overly-excited puppy, not letting him stand up, before and resting her front paws on his chest, tongue lolling out and begging for scratches behind her ears.
And Gendry complies, laughing when Nymeria licks his face and patting her head.
‘’Hello, girl! Missed me much? You’ve gotten so big.’’ He coos at her as if she was a babe and, in the corner of her eye, Arya sees shocked expression of a petite blonde woman who surely must be Gendry’s mother, given the finery of her gown and how she immediately schools her features, and curtsies gracefully in front of Father, along with three dark-haired girls surrounding her.
Aelin. Lara. Elinor. My soon-to-be-goodsisters.
‘’Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn. Lady Arya. Welcome to Storm’s End.’’ Lady Isabelle Baratheon greets them politely, pointedly ignoring the fact that her son has just been tackled to the ground by a direwolf. Lacing her gloved hands in front of her, she fixes her bluebell eyes on Arya, surveying her head to toe, until Arya starts to sweat under her stare. ‘’I am afraid my Lord husband is unwell right now and he is not able to attend to you properly. However, I hope that he’ll be able to join us at supper. Please, take your bread and salt.’’
Gendry, back on his feet after finally managing to untangle himself from an overenthusiastic Nymeria, stands by his mother’s side and bows deeply in front of her parents, giving her opportunity to see him better.
Those few years only did him good.
He’s so tall now; he has always been taller than all of Starks, even when they were kids, but now he positively towers above her and Mother, standing even higher than Father. When in Winterfell, other boys called him The Bull and the reasons for that also did not change. His chest, his shoulders, his thighs – all broad and muscled; Gendry could’ve been as well chiseled from solid stone. He’s still got those disheveled black hair, only now paired with a neatly trimmed beard. But his eyes are still as lovely and blue as in her memory, shining, when he steals a glance at her.
He looks more or less the same, truly. Only, either he got even more handsome or she just views him all differently now, because seeing him kissing her mother’s hand and hugging her father makes her feel all funny inside.
‘’Well then, shall we go inside? There is a lot of things to discuss.’’ Lady Isabelle says and something heavy like a stone lands in Arya’s stomach.
***
It seems like her wedding will be the event of the year, which should not surprise her but still somehow does.
Due to the fairly convenient location of Storm’s End and early announcements, nearly all Lord Paramounts of Seven Kingdoms confirmed their presence and Martells are sending Prince Trystane and Prince Oberyn which honestly is probably even bigger honor. Nearly all Tyrells apparently decided to show up, just for the kick of it. The King takes both of his queens with him and of course, Prince Aegon and Sansa will travel from Dragonstone to be earlier than the rest of the guest so that her sister could help with preparations.
Even Gendry’s gruff uncle Stannis will be there and he hates parties.
The pomp and extravagance are simply beyond everything Arya has experienced so far and she’s suddenly hit hard with realization how truly alien the South really is, compared with the stern, simple North. Nobody even thought of suggesting serving a baked swan at Robb and Margaery’s wedding. Arya’s need half a dozen apparently, paired with trays full of bloody oranges, lemons, and pomegranates, with stags made from sugar, towers of cookies and a truly monstrous meat pie. There is to be a troupe of entertaining fire-eaters for gods' sake, and gods only know who will pay for it all.
All this talk about guests, their seating and stomachs does nothing, but makes Arya feel vaguely sick. She’s stuck at Lady Isabelle’s solar with her mother and soon-to-be goodmother for hours, completely mute after requesting for Jon and his wife to be seated not far from her. All she has left to do is half-seriously contemplate if vomiting on Lady Isabelle’s yellow silk slippers could potentially win her at least a day of solitude.
She would be happy to see Jon and to meet Daenerys and aunt Lyanna. And to finally reunite with Rickon, who’s coming with the Riverrun delegation. But that’s about it.
Oh, and she would also be very happy to see her fucking betrothed since she’s not seeing him now at all. So far, they barely had time to exchange a few words during meals, not even coming closer to the topics they actually should talk about.
Which is the fact that they’re getting married.
It’s not any more real now. Her mother asks her to choose between identical shades of white Myrish lace and Lady Isabelle regularly has a breakdown about the potential of rain on the wedding day, and the whole ordeal still seems like something out of the dream.
So she feels she should really just sit down and talk with Gendry as long as it takes until she feels grounded again.
Besides… she misses him still. And now she doesn’t even have letters to fill that void.
So, when one morning Gendry gently grips her wrist under the table when they break their fast and slips a note in-between her fingers (my lady, if you can sneak away from our mothers, I’ll be waiting in the stables), Arya almost shrieks with relief.
She quickly makes up some lousy excuse about her moon blood coming soon and feeling rather weak today, which works smoothly without any questioning from Lady Isabelle and makes Mother narrow her eyes in suspicion, but ultimately grants her freedom to hide her face under the hood and make her way through the Storm’s End crowded courtyard relatively undisturbed. Every step makes her stomach twist in anticipation; half-nervous, half-excited, she finds Gendry alone, standing next to a saddled black horse and speaking to it softly while feeding it a carrot.
He used to give treats to horses in Winterfell too, she recalls fondly, pleasantly surprised with how relaxed she suddenly feels.
‘’Hey, Gendry.’’ she calls him softly, grinning as he stumbles on his feet while turning to her.
‘’Hi, Arry.’’ he responds with the old moniker he once gave her, and it makes both of them smile wider. ‘’You escaped my mother alright?’’
‘’Yours was not a problem. Mine might suspect something tho. By dinner I should be in my chambers, abed.’’ Arya steps a bit closer, her eyes wondering in awe as she takes the sight of the horse standing next to Gendry. ‘’Gods, who’s that beauty? Hello, sweetling.’’
She presents her open palm for the horse to sniff, while Gendry snickers:
‘’Knew you’d like him. That’s Thunder and he’s mine. So you might want to make acquaintance. ’’
‘’Lame name, if you’re asking me.’’ She gently runs her hand along the horse’s neck, enamored by his silky black mane and fine posture. ‘’But I guess it fits your whole Baratheon image.’’
‘’Wait till you see him run. This stupid name is not completely baseless. ’’ he shots back, with no bite in his words whatsoever. If anything, he just sounds fond.
‘’I assume you’re taking me for a ride then?’’ she asks, tearing her eyes away from the animal to look at Gendry.
In the half-shadow of the stables, she cannot see his eyes clearly, but, when he slowly laces his fingers with her, it tells her everything she needs to know.
‘’Would you like to get away from this madness for a while and see a little bit of Stormlands?’’
And to that, she cannot do anything but squeeze his hand and say aye.
***
Gendry was right, all those years ago; leaving all the fancies and properties aside, Stormlands are alike to North in a way indeed.
They ride through thick forests, soft-green and quiet except for the sound of the hooves of their horses. Instead of talking, they sink into a familiar silence, not feeling the need to fill it with words when they can just -
Be next to each other.
And then Gendry leads Thunders through the clearing, moving in-between trees until they find themselves on the open field at the edge of the cliff overlooking Shipbreaker’s Bay; the waves angrily hissing, as they break over rocks down below and clouds gathering on the strangely yellowish sky above.
It’s raw and wild and so beautiful it almost takes her breath away.
‘’Hey, Arry! Better catch up!’’ Gendry shouts suddenly and then Thunder shoots forward, passing Arya on her brown mare and soon leaving them far behind as he gallops along the ridge.
For a heartbeat or two, she sits completely still, breathing in the salty air and watching Gendry’s broad back getting smaller and smaller; she can feel the corners of her mouth rising up until she has a full-blown smile on her face. She lets the moment last.
And then she presses her heels to mare’s sides and follows.
The wind is whizzing in her ears as she rises up from the saddle, leaning along the horse’s neck and forcing her into a gallop, gallop as fast as she can. This is her favorite part, the one she can never get enough of; the sky, the grass, the sea – everything disappears. There is only cold biting her face and mare’s muscles dancing underneath her skin and Gendry’s breathless, booming laughter as she appears by his side. He pulls on the reigns of Thunder to regain the advantage, but even though his horse is swift and strong, Arya is way lighter and, between two of them, she has always been a better rider.
So they gallop together, so close to one another that it’s reckless as seven hells, the hooves hitting the ground in unison and their eyes locked. Arya thinks they could’ve run like that for a thousand years or more, but then, out of the blue, lightning splits the sky and rain starts pouring down mercilessly, immediately plastering clothes to their skins and making horses neigh and stumble at the loud boom of the thunder.
‘’We’ve got to wait it out, follow me!’’ Gendry’s voice is almost drowned by the noise of the storm, but fortunately, she remains close enough to hear them. Her mare dances in place nervously until Arya manages to calm her down and steer her behind Gendry, deeper into the land and back to the forest.
They find shelter in a cave; with its entrance half-covered by the vines and damp stone walls spotted with moss, it’s surprisingly comfortable. At least it’s dry, for what Arya’s more than grateful. She can already feel the cold rainwater freezing her to the bone and her teeth are clattering as she jumps from the panicked horse and pats her neck with stiff fingers.
‘’Hush girl, it is all fine. We are fine.’’
Thunder is pacing back and forth along the wall, only calming down when Gendry roughly grabs the reigns and whispers something into the horse’s ear. Soon, Arya’s mare neighs quietly and joins him to munch on some of the grasses growing in-between rocks.
Arya lets her go, herself still remaining near the opening of the cave, shifting on her feet to get warmer and rubbing her arms.
The rain falls so hard now that it sounds like a waterfall and, as she raises her eyes to Gendry and meets his stare, she realizes that she got her wish.
They are alone now. Completely, absolutely alone.
Both of them take the step forward at the same time.
‘’Fuck, you’re soaked. Now, take my coat.’’ Gendry’s tugging on the laces of his fur-lined cloak and throwing it on her shoulders before she can even protest. His hair is plastered to his head just like in pools in Godswood and, for a second she finds herself enchanted by the way raindrops drip down his face, along the line of his jaw.
‘’No, you’re cold too.’’ She shots back, grabbing his hands in hers, meaning to rub them together as she used to with Rickon’s and Bran’s in the North. But somehow, miraculously, Gendry’s skin is wet but still warm and she yelps in surprise, his heat making her fingers tingle.
He grins at her smugly.
‘’No, I’m not. What did you say about South being too warm for you, my lady?’’
‘’It is too warm.’’ She huffs in annoyance, trying to gather the will to drop his hands down and not finding it. ‘’But it’s hard not to get cold in a godsdamned thunderstorm. Should’ve known you’d be abnormal.’’
‘’I got caught in the storm too many times to be much affected by it.’’ He shrugs. ‘’Got used to. To be honest, they may be more sudden and vicious than the ones in the North, but you will see that they last far shorter.’’
‘’I didn’t know they sky can turn such a color.’’ She observes, stealing a glance outside behind her shoulder. ‘’It looked almost yellow before it turned dark.’’
‘’How do you think, where did Baratheon colors came from? We took them from Durrandons, who took them from the Stormlands’ sky before. Gods, you really should’ve dressed warmer.’’ Arya bites on her lip just in time to keep the gasp from escaping, as Gendry raises her hands to his lips and blows on them. Hot air of his breath warms her palms and then travels through her veins; to the tips of her fingers, to her wrists and the crook of her elbows, to her neck and face, making her tremble slightly.
‘’You still have the smallest hands I’ve ever seen.’’ he grumbles, his thumb tracing circles on her skin.
‘’My hands are not small. Yours are just too big.’’
‘’Blacksmith’s hands. Mikken has always used to say so.’’ he recalls sadly, gleam disappearing from his eyes as he leans on the wall of the cave.
‘’You’re not working anymore?’’ she unlaces their fingers in favor of wrapping his coat tighter around her and moving closer to his side. ‘’In the forge, I mean.’’
He just shakes his head.
‘’Don’t have time to. Storm’s End… there’s a lot of things to fix, if I’m being honest. ‘’ his Adam’s apple bobs and Arya really wishes he wasn’t so tall, because then she could see his face better. ‘’And I really hope I can be honest with you, Arya.’’
‘’Of course you can.’’ she’s almost offended he can even think otherwise. ‘’We’ re-‘’
Friends, she wanted to say we’re friends, but we aren’t anymore, are we? We are betrothed.
‘’Friends.’’ Gendry finishes instead of her, turning his head to lock his eyes with hers. ‘’No matter what, we’re friends first. And.. uhm… everything else… next.’’
It’s quite dark in the cave, but even in the shadows, she can see blush blooming on his cheekbones. And maybe this sight of vulnerability gives her the final push to ask the question that has been burning in her gut far longer than she cares to admit.
‘’Why do you want me to be your lady, Gendry? You could’ve tried for Sansa’s hand. Or any of the Stormlands’ ladies. Hells, even Princess Daenerys or Jon’s younger sisters, if you were quick about it. Why me?’’
Rain’s still pouring down outside, but it does not matter, cause Gendry’s voice is nowhere as quiet and tentative as hers.
‘’You still have no idea, don’t you?’’ he chuckles, leaning his head back against the rocks and raising his eyes to the stone ceiling. ‘’Gods, Arya, I don’t know even where I should start. You’re - you’re so smart. No one has your head for numbers. And you are an excellent horsewoman. Not to mention a great archer. And undefeatable with your Needle. And you care so much for people! I mean, do you even notice that? You have such a big heart for everyone. You want to take care of those around you, even those lowest. You-‘’
‘’Stop it!’’ she raises on her toes and presses her hands to his mouth, silencing his words. She has never heard Gendry saying so much at once and she has definitely never heard him praising anyone the way he just praised her. She can feel her whole face burning.
Gendry’s blue eyes gleam like twin gemstones. He slowly raises his own hands and grips her wrists, pulling them down from his face.
‘’Will you let me continue?’’ he asks softly, but it does not sound like a question at all. One of his arms sneaks around her waist and he lowers his head so now they’re standing pressed to each other, nose-to-nose. She can see drops of rain sticking his eyelashes together. ‘’You are the strongest, bravest woman I know. The most willful. Most – most beautiful.’’
Air escapes from her lungs. Beautiful. Beautiful. He called me beautiful.
With his other hand, he cups her face and she can see his eyes hesitantly searching for any sight of discomfort from her part, but he will not find any.
There is no discomfort in Arya.
She is no scared.
All she feels is warmth, warmth engulfing her head-to-toe. Warmth like the forge in Winterfell, cause Gendry’s embrace doesn’t feel like anything else but home.
You chose each other. That’s a good groundwork for marriage.
She crooks her head slightly, letting her cheek fully lean against his palm. Still, in silence, her lips part as he rests his forehead against hers.
‘’I was not lying Arya, when I told you I don’t want to be a lord.’’ His voice drops to the lowest of whispers. ‘’And after seeing how it looks like here, I definitely didn’t change my mind. The only way I will manage to do it, is with you. Nobody else, but you. Will you be the lady of those lands with me?’’
‘’I’ve already told you, stupid.’’ She huffs, placing her own hand on his cheek and smiling. ‘’I’ve already said yes. To you and to everything. But I hope you know, I’ll be the real pain in your arse.’’
‘’Ha, I know that.’’ He chuckles. ‘’That’s the only thing I’m sure of.’’
‘’What would you promise me in return?’’ she asks playfully, biting on his lips and watching as his eyes darken.
‘’Well, what would you want me to?’’
‘’Humor me. I’m giving you my hand, it better be something nice.’’
She’s thinking they surely must look like idiots, holding each other’s faces and smiling at each other, close enough that they share air and their noses bump.
But she just can’t seem to mind that.
‘’I promise to always be true to you.’’ His voice is like laughter and sun and weirwood leaves; his voice is like gravel on the Winterfell courtyard and the smell of the forest, the sound of waves crashing on the cliff. He is both the most familiar and the most unknown and there is nothing that Arya doesn’t feel when he whispers; ‘’To love you and to keep you wild. ’’
***
Sansa and her husband arrive two weeks before the wedding and her sister takes maybe two steps out of the wheelhouse before Mother runs to her and wraps her arms around her, Father soon following.
Arya watches the whole meeting from the sidelines, standing next to Gendry and trying not to bite on her lip too much. Sansa’s even more beautiful in her memory; she seems to be glowing from inside out the way expecting women are supposed to.
But well. She was always an expert in doing things she’s supposed to do. Why would pregnancy be any different for her?
Prince Aegon also remains in distance to the general merry-making, instead politely greeting Lady Isabelle and Lord Robert, who was wheeled outside on a chair, and whose head sags against his chest as if he was far older than he really is. Arya honestly admires Prince a little bit for coming so close to him, even going as far as kneeling on the ground to make talking to him easier. Robert Baratheon makes her feel a lot of things, pretty much none positive; and her general opinion of him is not improving due to the way his bloodshot eyes follow her every movement whenever she’s around him, a weird mix of nostalgia and desire written on his face.
Robert may hate all Targaryens with burning intensity, but apparently even he is not stupid enough to be rude to the Heir to the Iron Throne. Or maybe he doesn’t have the strength to be, gods only know. Anyway, he seems to be talking with Prince Aegon quite politely, every second word interrupted by the fit of coughing.
Arya thinks she’s probably staring at him a little too intensely, but she cannot help her curiosity; because she did not attend Sansa’s wedding, this is the first time she’s meeting her good brother. And what a sight he is – tall and lean like a willow tree, fair-haired; slim where Jon is broad, lithe where Jon is bulky. One would never guess they are half-brothers.
Where Prince nods his head in front of her, she notices his beautiful blue eyes, darker even than Gendry’s; like the evening sky long after sunset.
“Arya.’’ Sansa calls for her from Father’s embrace, a small smile on her blushed face and her hands cupping the slight bulge of her belly. ‘’It’s so nice to see you, sister! Please, come closer.’’
Is it really? Arya almost scowls, but Gendry lightly pinches her side before she has a chance to and offers her his arm and, when they’re crossing the courtyard together, she’s feeling strangely giddy. Gendry’s wearing this doublet she likes, the one with claw marks along his shoulders (being subtle has never been his strongest suit) and it’s so good to be by his side, his longer strides matched with her quicker ones. Marveling at that, Arya manages easily to kiss Sansa’s cheek and politely congratulate her on her pregnancy. She thinks she could even, maybe, possibly, do a little wedding-related small talk on her own free will… just as long as Gendry would be holding her hand the whole time.
***
When Sansa asks her to take a walk around the castle’s gardens, she does not think much of it. Maybe Mother asked her to, maybe she wants to gloat a little, or maybe she lacks female companionship. There could be a number of reasons, all ultimately unimportant.
At first, it goes as expected; they stroll agonizingly slow, Sansa babbles excitedly about the wedding and her babe and how beautiful Dragonstone is and everything else, and Arya listens to her quietly, trying not to look as bored as she is.
But then Sansa sits down on of the benches, taking yet another break. She quiets down for a moment, before lacing her hands on her lap.
‘’Are you in love with him?’’ she asks suddenly, her voice low and serious; a far cry for her previous cheerful tweeting. She keeps her eyes glued to the ground and refuses to meet Arya’s confused stare.
And Arya is simply dumbfounded. Not only to hear this question from Sansa, of all people, but to hear it at all. No one ever wonders about being in love. It’s a silly fancy for women of their kind and even Sansa, so enamored by the tales of knights and fair ladies must already know that. Love is something that one can wish for, but it’s not an end goal. Even Mother and Father have never mentioned it. Gendry and Arya like each other a lot, enjoy each other’s company, are of an equal station and actively asked to be matched, so it was far more than enough for them to be married.
But Sansa is asking about something else entirely. And so Arya finds herself quite at loss to what to say.
‘’I’m not.’’ – she says at last, deciding on the most honest answer she can think of. – ‘’But I think maybe I will be. One day.’’
‘’But you love him, don’t you? And even if you don’t, you know him. You know…’’ Sansa pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. – ‘’ I am so very jealous of that. Have been, since the moment I realized you will be married to him one day. I met Aegon a week before we were wed and did not know a single important thing about him.’’
The sea breeze plays with stray pieces of Sansa’s beautiful auburn hair and the fringes of her scarlet dress. With her swollen belly and porcelain skin, she’s stunning beyond belief, just like she has always been. And yet, she’s sitting here and telling her, little Arya Horseface, that she’s jealous of her.
When Arya looks at her, really, truly looks at her beyond the perfect exterior Sansa pulls off so well, she notices a few things she has never bothered to see.
There is an unhealthy paleness of her sister’s cheeks and the sheen of sweat on her brow even though they were moving at the snail’s pace during a relatively chilly morning. The Targaryen red shade of the velvet of her gown crashes terribly with her hair. She looks-
Honestly, she looks unhappy.
‘’I still feel like I don’t know him at all.’’ Sansa adds quietly, putting her hands on her belly delicately. ‘’But you two grew up together and he was always so obviously fond of you. Didn’t even spare me a glance, same as Jon. I don’t know if Father intended one of them for you from the beginning, but even if he didn’t, it was soon decided.’’
And of course, Robert Baratheon wanted a Ned Stark’s daughter to marry Gendry right from the start.
Arya thinks about Bran’s absolute conviction, aligning now with Sansa’s words. Was it truly so transparent for everyone, that only she couldn’t see it?
But then again, Arya never wondered much about betrothals and marriages when she was a kid, definitely not even half as much as Sansa. So maybe she just never bothered to notice the clues right in front of her.
How Mother never forbade her running around with Gendry and Jon, long after it stopped being proper. Why would it matter if she got ruined, if it was by her future husband?
How Father turned his eyes away from Arya’s sneaking out to ride with Gendry through wolfswood and how he never said anything against him giving her piggyback rides to her chamber after the supper.
Arya opens her mouth and closes it back, finding no good answer to Sansa’s words.
‘’I think he hoped for either of us to marry him.’’ she says slowly, carefully. ‘’Because Gendry’s Robert’s son. But I’m sure at the beginning he was thinking about you more than me.’’
‘’He won’t be a bad husband to you. He wouldn’t be bad for me also, I’m sure.’’ Sansa chimes and Arya suddenly feels quite faint. Gendry marrying Sansa. How would that feel like? Would she feel anything at all, watching the two of them in front of Septon? Maybe not, if she didn’t know how it feels to stand in his arms, his body so warm and strong against hers. Maybe.
Or maybe not.
‘’But Aegon’s obviously a better catch.’’ somehow, Arya’s statement sounds more like a question.
‘’Oh, he is.’’ Sansa’s giggle is as delicate and lady-like as possible. But the scowl on her face isn’t. ‘’True prince from my dreams. I’ll be his Queen someday, just like I always wanted. What an honor.’’
Her words sound empty. Her eyes are empty; two blue glass marbles set in a lacquered mask.
It’s a particularly pretty spring morning. Soon, they will both go back to the castle and Sansa will surely throw herself into choosing right flowers for the ceremony or pleasantly chat with Lady Isabelle and Gendry’s sisters about the weather for hours with no end. During supper, she’ll sit by Prince Aegon’s side and smile politely, eat like a bird and retire to her chambers early.
But for now, Arya’s standing in Storm’s End gardens in front of her beautiful older sister and, for the first time, pities her.
And maybe it’s just enough for her to bury all the resentment she feels for Sansa deep enough to sit on the bench next to her and lace his fingers with her.
Just enough, that when Sansa’s eyes widen in surprise and her hand twitches in her grip, Arya doesn’t let go.
***
Three days before wedding, they sneak out again; this time, to the beach below the castle.
There’s Gendry, his eyes laughing, his cheeks pink from harsh sea breeze; his pants cuffed so the material won’t get wet in the shallow water, standing next to her and showing her ships sailing somewhere in the distance.
And there’s also this insistent, dangerous thought that keeps on blaring in her mind on repeat ever since they left that cave.
Kiss me.
Kiss me, kissmekissme
She bites on her lip just to keep this plea inside, but he notices, of course he does, cause he is infuriating like that; how can one man be so absolutely dense one second and then suddenly turn perceptive like a hawk?
‘’What?’’
She lowers her gaze to her feet. Pale and submerged, they look like weird fishes.
‘’What, what?’’
‘’What’s going on?’’
The seagulls are shrieking, but it’s nowhere loud enough for her not to hear the sounds coming from the castle. Horses and people and everything. All this fucking noise.
Water splashes around Gendry’s ankles as he moves closer to her. She takes a step back, but he sneaks an arm around her waist, keeping her in place.
He’s so warm. Against sea and wind and sky, he is the warmest thing that exists, warmer even than Nymeria’s fur and Winterfell hot springs.
‘’Arya.’’
Even his voice is warm. Yet, his fingers still make her shiver when he raises her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his.
‘’I just- It’s stupid.’’
‘’I doubt it.’’ He says, so confidently that she almost laughs.
‘’How do you know that?’’
‘’Well.’’ He puts his other hand on her lower back. She is now locked in his embrace, her feet in-between his, his arms around her. ‘’You are not a stupid lass, Arya. So I don’t thank whatever you want to say is stupid either.’’
‘’That’s a stupid line of thinking, tho. Even stupid people sometimes say wise things.’’ Before she can stop herself, she puts her hands on his shoulders, lacing her fingers behind his neck. With the sway of the tides that makes them sway also, it feels a bit as if they were dancing.
‘’Gimmie an example of that.’’ He demands. He’s smiling; he’s always smiling when he’s looking at her, just like her father said. How could she not notice that before?
‘’You. Sometimes you manage to say a thing or two that makes sense.’’
He barks with a booming laughter, loud enough that he startles a few little terns that were resting on the rocks next to them.
‘’Oh, my lady, no one sweet talks me like you do.’’
He’s really, awfully handsome. If Sansa saw him like that, Arya thinks, she would die of jealousy. But I’m the one he wants, I’m the one he asked for.
He saw me, dancing with a practice sword on the courtyard, running around with my hair messy and dress muddied. He saw me and he saw Sansa. And between us two, he chose me. He’s the only one who ever chose me.
Gendry, still chuckling lightly, tucks stray streak of hair behind her ear and stills.
And he is the only one whom I could ever choose.
Courage fills her lungs as she admits sheepishly, in haste, before she can think it over;
‘’I don’t want my first kiss to be in front of all those people. The king, the queens. My parents. All those lords and ladies. It’s just- I know you don’t – I mean-‘’ she starts to mumble and it suddenly feels too hot in his arms, too scary when he looks at her like that. She’s getting nervous again. Oh, gods. What did she even want to say? It was all a bad idea, the worst. ‘’I’m not asking you to- oh, fuck that, it was stupid, just forge-‘’
Suddenly, underneath blue, blue sky, ankle-deep in cold, cold sea, Gendry’s kissing her.
Her feet on the sharp, slippery pebbles, seagulls shrieking and thunder rumbling somewhere in the far distance, Gendry’s kissing her.
Smiling against her mouth, his lips chapped and warm, Gendry’s kissing her.
And she supposes she’s glad she brought it up at the end, cause it would be embarrassing as hell to gasp like she just did in front of all the guests; to freeze first and then close her eyes and melt, raising on her tiptoes and burying her fingers in soft, dark hair at the back of his head to press him closer to her. Their teeth clash and she winces, but he coaxes her lips to part with his tongue and – oh.
Oh.
***
The Royal House Targaryen streams through the open gate with all the pomp and extravagance possible. And even Arya has to admit, they are truly a sight to behold. It’s hard not to gawk.
King Rheagar rides first, on a stunning white horse and clad in silver, which, paired with his skin and hair, makes him look a little bit like a fallen star, as if he was out of this world. He’s far older now than when he took the throne from his father, but still as handsome; and those melancholic eyes are only part of the appeal… at least that’s what Arya’s handmaidens at Storm’s End claim. Then, there are his two Queens, who simply couldn’t be more different from each other; Elia Martell, dark and subtle, her eyes lined with kohl and swaddled in sandy yellow gauze and purple velvets versus Lyanna Stark, pale as the moon, her long brown hair cascading down her back and wide grin on her lovely face when she spots Arya’s father.
But as much as Arya wants to finally meet this woman, her eyes keep on searching, impatience burning in her veins until she spots Jon.
Prince Jaehaerys hops off his horse the moment the procession stops and, ignoring all protocol and curtesies, crosses the courtyard to gather Arya in his arms, spinning her around until she wheezes with laughter.
‘’Jon, let me go!’’ she kicks her legs underneath her skirts, suddenly feeling like a little girl again.
‘’I will, but only so I can take a look at you.’’ he chuckles, finally setting her on her feet and surveying her head-to-toe, his dark eyes gleaming. ‘’Well, you did not grow much, didn’t you.’’
She thinks her mother would positively whip her if she hit a crown prince of Seven Kingdoms in the presence of the rest of the Royal Family and that’s the only thing that stops her from doing just so.
‘’You, on contrary, should really stop growing. Nice to see you, friend.’’ Jon turns to Gendry, who grins in return and soon they’re patting each other’s backs, playfully wrestling like they used to back in Winterfell.
‘’My love, maybe you could introduce me?’’ soft, melodic voice breaks their reunion bubble and soon Arya’s looking at someone who surely must be the most beautiful girl she has ever seen.
Jon’s face splits into the most lovesick and sappy smile in the history of lovesick smiles as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.
‘’You’re right, of course. Gendry, Arya- my wife, Princess Daenerys.’’
‘’Dany. Just Dany is enough, we are amongst friends, right? I heard so much about you two, you have no idea.’’ Daenerys winks at them playfully. She’s wearing a simple lilac dress and her silver hair is down, already messed-up by the wind, but Arya supposes it doesn’t matter at all if her face is so strikingly perfect and her body seems to be carved from marble by someone’s loving hands. Daenerys Targaryen would probably still be heart-stopping if she was barefoot and in rags.
‘’Oh, I think we may have some idea about the things he could tell you, Your Highness.’’ Gendry lowers his head respectfully and Arya takes it as a clue to curtsy also. ‘’Welcome to Storm’s End.’’
‘’Please, no ‘Your Highness’ me. I told you, my name is Dany.’’ Daenerys clasps Arya’s hands in hers. ‘’I heard you have a similar problem with titles. Please, support me here.’’
‘’Of course – Dany.’’ Arya finds it easy to return the smile, squeezing Princess’ fingers. ‘’Besides, we don’t title Jon. It’s only fair not to do that with you.’’
‘’You’re only not titling me, because you have seen me sprawled half-naked on the snow after that prank that Theon pulled.’’ Jon murmurs grimly, but Arya can see how content he looks like with their introduction to his wife. ‘’After all, it would be impossible to remain dignified after that.’’
Daenerys’ eyebrows shoot up and she narrows her eyes.
‘’I don’t believe I heard this particular story.’’
‘’You don’t have to know everything, Dany.’’
‘’Oh, but I definitely do.’’ Princess turns back to Arya. ‘’Can’t wait to learn what else he hid from me. We must get to know each other better. Please?’’
And because Jon looks so unquestionably happy when he stares at his wife and because Dany’s plea sounds so incredibly honest- it’s enough for Arya to exchange a glance with Gendry before they both nod in unison.
It’s different now, when there is an additional person in their old good triumvirate. But somehow, she thinks this might be a change for good.
***
On the morning of her wedding, she wakes up too early - it’s barely grey outside, silent in the whole castle. Even Nymeria is still deep in her slumber and apparently dreaming of running, judging by the erratic movements of her paws.
Arya jumps from under the covers, walking barefoot on the stone-cold floor to the window to check if Gendry was right yesterday, when he told his mother stop fretting about the weather - it turns out he was indeed, because the sea is still and flat like a table and the wind has died down, leaving only chill breeze that makes her shiver and wrap her arms around her.
Tomorrow, she will wake up in different chambers, with a better view. And just like the water outside, she is strangely calm with this perspective on the horizon. It’s all right. It’s all good.
It will be fine.
One big, fancy ceremony and she will forever be allowed to kiss Gendry whenever she wants and they will never ever have to sneak out again to go for a horse ride. It doesn’t seem like a too big price to pay.
Alright then. Let the madness begin.
She bathes in rosewater, her cherry maids scrubbing every inch of her body with sea sponges until her skin is pink and itchy.
Then, her mother and sister dress her up in fine white silk adorned with ermine fur and pearls on the hem and around cuffs. The gown is lighter than a traditional Northern one would be, but still heavy and uncomfortable, and Sansa laces it tight enough that Arya has to stop herself from wincing every time she takes a deeper breath. They braid her hair in a soft coronet, adorning it with silver thread and small blue flowers, and they powder her face and paint her lips and cheeks with the rogue.
Sansa gifted her a long string of pearls from the Summer Islands for the occasion and now she takes it out of the box and loops it around Arya’s neck a few times, so that it would complement her dress. After doing that, she steps aside, with a satisfied smile on her face.
When they put her in front of the mirror, she has to blink a couple times to recognize herself.
‘’Look at you.’’ Her mother says, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she clasps her hands together and covers her mouth with them. ‘’You look so beautiful, Arya.’’
Arya’s heart clenches painfully and she looks down, avoiding Mother’s soft gaze. She has waited her whole life to hear those words. To fit in. To feel like she belongs.
Right now, standing still in her beautiful gown, dripping with jewels and all dolled-up, she finally looks like a proper noblewoman. Proper lady. Even next to the glowing Sansa, queen-to-be in royal scarlet, she does not look out of place.
Beautiful, that’s how her mother called her.
It doesn’t feel good at all. It feels empty. It is empty, because the woman looking back at her from the mirror is not Arya, just some stranger in her skin.
Gendry, thou. – crosses her mind suddenly, filling her with warmth. – Gendry called me beautiful in the forest, when I had my hair loose and I was soaked to the bone with rain. Why would it matter, what anyone else thinks of me today?
Holding onto that thought, she wills her mouth to curve into a smile. If they want her to play the blushing bride, she will be one for today, easily. Because this marriage won’t be her shackles.
‘’Thank you, Mother.’’
***
First, they marry in Sept.
Storm’s End has a beautiful little chapter, ornamented inside with amber and colored glass, making it look like a jewelry box. When light pours through the windows, it basks people in an orange-golden glow and suddenly everyone and everything becomes simply ethereal. Women are porcelain figures. Men – carved marble. The smell of burning spices is making Arya’s nose twitch, harsh light is making her eyes water. At the back of her head, she registers all of it; Nymeria’s silent presence by her one side, Father’s by the other; the sound of her maiden cloak sweeping the stone floor; Sansa’s red hair looking like a flame around her face.
But it all feels very much unreal, even when she stands in front of Gendry and watches how light dances on his face, turning his eyes green. The Septon keeps on talking and talking, gods know what about. She doesn’t hear any of his words, only white noise pulsating in her ears. She is not really here, not really registering what’s going on - not until their linked hands are wrapped with silk ribbon and it’s time for them to say their vows.
For a second, her throat goes dry.
There is no turning back now.
She cannot breathe, cannot think, not will all those people watching her and with those godsdamned spices burning, not with her laces so tight and her heart so heavy-
Gendry’s fingers gently squeeze her own and it’s like a fresh breeze on a hot day, like a bucket of blissfully cold water poured on her head.
This marriage won’t be my shackles.
‘’Father.’’ He starts, his voice confident and loud, echoing through the chapel.
And she breathes in.
‘’Smith.’’ The corners of Gendry’s lips twitch slightly.
And she breathes out.
‘’Warrior.’’ She raises her chin up, looking him straight into the eyes and letting smile bloom on her face.
‘’Mother, Maiden, Crone.’’ They say in perfect unison, and Arya feels how her chest rises and falls, how her heart beats steadily, how everything is a song and she just wants to sing it as long as she’s alive.
‘’I am his and he is mine from this day, until the end of my days.’’ They stand so close to each other, their linked hands being the only thing that keeps their bodies apart; Gendry leans his head down and she does not care for guests or for the feast or for being the lady of Storm’s End when he’s right here and promises to be hers.
The Septon untangles the ribbon and Gendry’s fingers immediately fly to the laces of her cloak; but then, just as suddenly, he drops them.
He sends her a blinding grin and, instead of taking it off, he simply reaches for the Baratheon black-and-yellow cloak and pulls it on top of her Stark one and she’s quite sure no one ever smiled as widely as her at that moment, when gathered guests gasp and Gendry fulfills her promise to her in the most beautiful way he possibly could.
And then.
‘’With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband.’’ She almost sing-songs, feeling like a giddy girl about to dip into Godswood pools.
‘’With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife.’’ Gendry’s voice drops an octave lower, sending shivers down her spine, before she raises on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.
‘’I now pronounce you man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.’’ The Septon announces, and it’s a perfectly lovely line, truly; but all Arya ever wants to hear is Gendry’s breathy laughter as he embraces her tightly, sweeping her off her feet.
***
They truly do get married when the night falls, at least from Arya’s perspective.
The Godswood here is, of course, not even close to what she left behind in Winterfell, but it’s easy to fool herself when it’s dark and lit with torches and bigger part of her family is there. Most of the guests decided to remain at the feast inside, so the ceremony is far quieter and simple – only aunt Lyanna, Jon and Daenerys stand next to Lady Isabelle and Gendry’s sisters on the one side of the path, watching as Arya is once again lead towards her husband by her father. From the other side, Sansa sends her a soft smile, locked in Prince Aegon’s arms and Rickon whistles sharply until Mother whacks him on the head.
This time, Father pulls her close before giving her away, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and quietly telling her he loves her and this is when it really, truly hits her- this is goodbye. A farewell. Even of Gendry didn’t take her cloak off… since now, she’ll forever be Lady Arya Baratheon in the eyes of the world.
This makes her cry, just a little and it’s good that Gendry’s close enough to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
When they kneel on the sweet-smelling grass in front of the bloody-teared heart tree, she closes her eyes and silently asks the old Northern gods of her ancestors to replace Winterfell in her heart with Storm’s End. And for Gendry to never leave her again. And to finally feel that what she has is enough.
***
Aunt Lyanna dances through the whole evening with anyone and everyone who gathers enough courage to ask her; she twirls in her husband’s arms, spins around nearly all Kingsguards, claps along with the rhythm with her son and Prince Aegon, drags Arya’s father to the dancefloor despite his loud complaints.
She even steals Gendry for a song or two, promising Arya to give him back in one piece and just as handsome and bursting into laughter when Gendry turns red.
Elia Martell also dances her with husband, son, nephew and brother, but she is nowhere as blinding as Lyanna, nowhere as attention-catching. She spends most of the feast quietly talking with Sansa and Dayne siblings, only making an exception to sweetly congratulate Arya and Gendry on their union and to wish them to enjoy each other’s company until they’re old and grey.
Funny thing thou; while Elia seems perfectly calm and content to sit at the sidelines, Arya catches Aunt Lyanna longingly stare a little too long at the Stark sigil hanging from the ceiling along the Baratheon one; and, while she’s still a relatively young woman, there are crone’s lines deeply carved in the skin around her eyes. If observed long enough, her laughter sounds quite hollow and there’s some unhealthy nervousness about her quick, erratic movements.
She truly does resemble a caged songbird.
Beautiful and sad, that’s what Gendry said about her years ago. And although probably no one else would call her the latter, Arya supposes he was not wrong at all, just more perceptive than others.
King Rheagar’s sadness is out in the open. For Lyanna’s, one has to dig a little deeper.
But Arya’s pondering about the subject is rudely, if deliciously, interrupted as Gendry’s lips suddenly brush her earlobe when he whispers:
“Would you do me an honor of dancing with me, my lovely wife?’’
She turns towards him, cheeks blushed, breath catching. Wife, wife, wife.
He’s straight-up fucking beaming at her. She hasn’t been even aware that he can make an expression like that. And when she immediately puts her hand in his, no hesitation, his smile stretches even wider, making his eyes crinkle and highlighting this tiny dimple he has on his chin.
It is unmistakable, how unabashedly happy Gendry looks like. Oh gods, how could she even think about anything else than him this night?
‘’Lead the way, husband of mine. And try not to step on my toes.’’ She teases and bursts into laughter as he pulls her in-between dancing pairs and spins her around.
***
‘’Maybe we could just ran away.’’ Arya whispers, gently tracing the slope of Gendry’s nose with the tip of her finger. The guests behind their doors whistle and shout obscenities, but they could as well be far away in the North for how little attention Arya pays them. Her and her new husband are laying on top of Gendry’s magnificent featherbed, stripped to their small clothes and in no hurry whatsoever, all hushed voices and feather-like caresses. He’s playing with her hair. She’s exploring his features. Time feels sticky; thick and sweet like honey.
She wants to savor it, every single drop.
‘’Drop the titles, the castles. Just be us.’’ She sounds dreamy and, ultimately, it is exactly what she plans on doing. She’s gonna daydream. She’s gonna talk and talk with him, the way they have always did. And just hope that whatever follows won’t be the first thing that won’t come easy to them.
‘’What would we do?’’ he plays along, gently grabbing her hand and kissing the delicate underside of her wrist, his eyes shining in the moonlight, his lips parted. There’s something written on his face tonight and she does not know how to decipher this message; she only knows it makes her toes curl, her fingers tremble.
‘’You’d be my blacksmith.’’ Arya braces herself for a moment before she swiftly rolls on top of him, settling her hips against his and chuckling when he groans.
‘’And you’d be my Arya.’’
Mine, mine, mine – her blood sings, her breath catches as she watches how he lays spread underneath her, both rough and soft, vulnerable and strong and hers, hers to keep.
His hands rest on her waist and then move upwards, finding her breasts and she moans involuntarily under his touch, evoking a wave of loud cheering from the corridor. Gendry’s pupils are blown wide, his eyes are so dark that they don’t even look blue anymore.
‘’Aye, I would be.’’ she agrees before lowering her head to capture his lips with hers. ‘’I would always be yours.’’
Never believe things men will tell you to bed you. They won’t mean it, not truly. - Septa Mordane used to warn her and Arya briefly wonders if the opposite is maybe also true. Right now, she would say everything and anything to get Gendry to move, to touch her, really touch her. This dance they’re doing is marvelous, is delicious, is unlike anything else she has ever felt before. With the anticipation making her dizzy, with want making her silly, there are not many lines she wouldn’t cross.
‘’Say it again.’’ He demands in between kisses, twisting her nipple in-between his fingers and using her moment of weakness to flip them over, swallowing her breathy gasps with his mouth. ‘’Please.’’
‘’Yours. I’m yours, I’m yours.’’ She pants, giddy and happy, and letting excitement bubble inside her as he replaces his fingers with his mouth.
‘’And I’m yours.’’ He vows sweetly, pressing short, burning kisses down her body, stripping her of any shame until everything else disappears without a trace, wiped from the face of Earth, leaving only place for the two of them, together.
***
The next morning, Gendry takes her to the stables with her eyes blindfolded with a silk shawl.
‘’I know where we are going.’’ She whines, feeling more than a little ridiculous as he leads her like a child. ‘’I know you’re gonna give me a horse. Why do we have to do it this way?’’
‘’I’m a fan of all things proper.’’ Comes his answer and Arya’s absolutely sure she must be red to the roots of her hair cause there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing proper about how Gendry spread her thighs and licked her into oblivion just a few hours ago.
‘’Oh, surely you are.’’ She snickers, making him chuckle in response.
‘’Are you suggesting I did not – took care of you properly last night?’’
When did he become such a tease?
She’s just about to shoot something back, but Gendry takes her hand and places it on top of something incredibly delicate and warm.
‘’Say hello, my love.’’ He tells her softly, undoing the knot at the back of Arya’s head. ‘’I hope you’ll be satisfied.’’
In front of Arya stands the most magnificent pale sand steed she has ever seen. It is elegantly built, with the long neck, thin legs and small hooves; even while standing still, it looks like an epitome of grace. From underneath its grey fringe, dark eyes stare intelligently right into hers. The beast is calm like the untouched surface of the lake and Arya can do nothing else but stand and gawk, her hand still resting above horse’s nostrils; she’s just too enchanted to say anything.
‘’Trystane and Oberyn brought her with Dorne on my request.’’ Gendry continues, patting the horse’s side. ‘’How do you like her?’’
How do I like her?
Suddenly, Arya feels a strange urge to cry.
She has dreamt of a sand steed all her life. To just jump onto one and - ran away, as swiftly as possible, faster than the wind. To disappear somewhere of the horizon, in the lands unknown. To become a tale incarnate. And Gendry knew it all well, for how many times she talked his ears off with her ice dragons, leviathans, Old Valyrias, Elisa Farmans, Princess Aereas and Sea Snakes.
And yet – he gave her this beautiful, beautiful horse and trusted her not to use it to leave him and shame him.
He’s looking so proud of himself. – she thinks, her heart fluttering in her chest like a moth around the flame. Gendry’s eyes are twinkling and he has his arms laced on his chest, standing tall and strong. He’s smiling at her, as always. – And he has a right to be.
‘’If you- if you expect me to call her Lightening to match your Thunder, you will be sorely disappointed.’’ She manages to utter at last, trying to keep her tone playful. – ‘’This would be ridiculous and we won’t be doing that.’’
Gendry barks a laughter, leaning back on one of the wooden pillars and glancing at Arya fondly as she lets the horse sniff her palm before gently pressing a kiss to its nose.
‘’How will you call her then?’’
Arya combs through mare’s fine, silvery mane with her fingers and recalls the feeling of steel grey waves crashing around her calves as Gendry was kissing her on the shore. The feeling of galloping with him on the cliffs, cold rain soaking their clothes. The Old Nan’s stories of the Northern Sea, filled to the brim with monsters from the wildest imagination. The image of the clear sky after the storm, pure and light.
The night they have just spent together.
‘’Shiver.’’ She finds herself stating, with one side of her face pressed to the horse’s warm, strong neck. Her mare smells like sand and sun and salt. Like the only freedom her husband can give her; the freedom to be who she is. ‘’Her name is Shiver.’’
***
As they’re seeing the royal guests away, Aunt Lyanna surveys them both for a moment silently, before exhaling deeply.
‘’Look children, I know you received a lot of well wishes already, but please let me add to the pool.’’ She reaches out and take their hands in her small, glowed ones – Gendry’s in her right, Arya’s in her left. ‘’I hope that your wedding was not the best day of your lives. I hope you will get many, many better in the future, each one more wonderful than the previous. I hope your years together will be as joyous as they can be.’’
Arya’s eyes involuntarily escape from Lyanna across the courtyard, finding Father’s still figure. Her parents are going to accompany royal family to the Capital before going back North and simply the thought of it makes her want to throw up. After they’re gone, only Nymeria will remind her of home.
After they’re gone, there will be no more ceremonies and pleasantries, or formal dinners to suffer through. Only day by day, years passing by.
‘’My dear.’’ Aunt Lyanna pats her cheek delicately to regain her attention and looks her straight into the eyes, grey meeting grey. ‘’I know it’s hard for us, she-wolves of Winterfell, to live in the South. But you are strong. You will survive this separation – and soon, your childhood will become just a sweet memory to cherish, not something that makes you ache. Believe me.’’ She finishes quietly, quickly bidding them goodbye and hurrying to her horse with skirts fluttering around her ankles as if she was afraid she said too much.
Her voice rings true and Arya suspects she believes in her words. But Lyanna still looks so small and bittersweet in her blue gown, surrounded by the sea of crimson and black. She stands out, a single winter rose in the garden of glasshouse-grown ones. From one side, King Rheagar glances at her, brow furrowed. From another, Jon shoots her a concerned look, wrinkle on his forehead deep like a gash.
Mother hugs her tightly, caressing her hair and saying something about being proud of her, but Arya’s more or less fine until Father appears in front of her and stares down at her so lovingly that she’s sure her heart will break clean in half from the pain.
She can feel her lower lip trembling and before she can even notice, she’s locked in Ned Stark’s warm embrace, surrounded by the familiar scent.
‘’My girl.’’ He whispers softly, letting her tear up against his shoulder and holding her tightly. ‘’My girl, I love you so much. You are going to do so good, you’ll see.’’
‘’I’m going to miss you.’’ She cries, not even carrying if anyone hears. Let them know Starks love their pack. Let them know whose example she is going to follow. ‘’So much. But I’ll do my best.’’
‘’I know you will.’’ Father says warmly, his voice laced with such a certainty that she smiles through tears. ‘’You are a natural; you were born to order people around. And I’m sure you will be happy in Stormlands. Right, Gendry?’’
Arya still has her face pressed to Father’s fur collar, but she’s fully aware that he fixes a particularly icy stare on her husband, because Gendry’s ‘’I’ll see to that, Lord Stark.’’ sounds a little nervous.
‘’You don’t need to scare him, Father.’’ She says quietly. ‘’You said it yourself; he will be good to me.’’
‘’Oh, I don’t worry about it. But it’s better to be extra safe than sorry, right?’’
So this is how she says goodbye to her family; her face wet and the corners of her mouth up, her husband squeezing her hand tightly as the horses disappear, swallowed by the woods.
***
A week later, just when she thinks all the hard talks and surprises are behind her, Lady Isabelle invites her for a tea in her solar.
Dressed in a teal gown and with her blonde locks half-up, her goodmother looks as delicate and bird-like as always and Arya wonders for the thousandth time how a woman like that put up with years and years of Robert Baratheon, how did she survive giving him a son and three daughters. If Isabelle is akin to a dove, Robert is nothing but a boar; big and loud and vulgar.
And still in love with another woman, even after all those years.
‘’Oh, Arya. Sit please.’’ The woman sets down her embroidery hoop on the table and reaches for a teapot. ‘’I hope you like tea? I heard Xingise don’t drink anything else.’’
‘’I do enjoy tea a lot, goodmother.’’ Arya dutifully takes a seat and watches as Lady Isabelle is pouring dark, sweet-smelling liquid into her cup. There are fresh cut roses in the vase between them and one of the petals falls off just as Arya’s trying to remember if the two of them were ever alone before. To be honest, she cannot recall such situation.
With a cling of porcelain, Gendry’s mother puts teapot back on the tray and announces simply:
‘’Robert and I will soon leave Storm’s End.’’
Arya’s eyes widen. She has expected – fuck, she doesn’t know what she expected, but definitely not this.
‘’Where to, my lady? I thought Lord Robert’s condition doesn’t allow him to travel.’’ She asks carefully, trying not to sound too brash, or, gods forbid, too happy. Even if she is a little bit happy. Which probably makes her the worst person ever.
‘’You are not mistaken.’’ Isabelle purses her lips into a tight line. ‘’But my husband is barely holding onto life the way he is now. Him and I will only trouble Gendry, and he does not need extra problems on his head. Especially… now that he already has you.’’
She could’ve as well slap Arya, for how painful this subtle jab was.
‘’Let me make something clear, Lady Arya.’’ Isabelle continues, any trace of sweetness gone from her voice. ‘’I was against this match, same as I was against Gendry being fostered in Winterfell, especially since we could’ve send him to Eyrie, to my family. Bringing you here is an insult to me, considering – well, considering.’’
Lyanna, Lyanna, Lyanna. Why won’t you just say her name? We both know you’re thinking about her.
‘’My son is a good man, I made sure of that. I thought there is not a trace of Robert in him, except his looks. But it seems I was wrong.’’
‘’Gendry is different than his father. Completely different.’’ Arya protests, but her words seem distant and distorted as if she was under the water. This whole conversation threw her completely off balance. Where did this woman hide this venom for all those weeks?
‘’Not when it comes to taste in women, apparently. ‘’ Isabelle scoffs and Arya curses in her head, this goddamn shadow of Aunt Lyanna always stuck to me. ‘’Still, I respected his choice. But you should know, you would never deserve him. Never.’’
Looks like an innocent flower, but there’s a true furious stag underneath
Arya cannot hate Lady Isabelle; she cannot even dislike her now, not when it turned out she is not so bland after all. Years stuck with Robert, seeing his whores and wine would make even a saint bitter.
Besides… she does understand where her good mother’s fears come from.
Arya laces her fingers on her lap, more lady-like than ever, and takes a sip of her tea.
‘’So let me be honest also; I love your son. And I intend to be a good wife for him. But I will never take your road. I won't ever let him harass me into becoming who I’m not. However, I believe I should thank you for raising him... Because I know he would never do that.’’
Lady Isabelle stares at her for a moment, before nodding slowly.
‘’He wouldn’t. He won’t. Hope you know how lucky you are.’’
In fact, Arya feels like she’s been slowly realizing that from the moment she stepped onto the Storm’s End courtyard and it’s only becoming clearer with time.
‘’Anyway.’’ Isabelle reaches for her own teacup, only the slight tremble of her wrist indicating she has just straight-up insulted Arya. ‘’I wish to visit my older brother and his wife in Runestones. I hope clear mountain air would do Robert well, not like the clammy heat here.’’
Oh, it will certainly do him good. – Arya narrows her eyes, trying to stop herself from chuckling. – So will being tossed in the wheelhouse for weeks, on the hard terrain, when he’s already so weak. You minx. I underestimated you.
Her goodparents do leave eventually, against Gendry’s loud and explicit wishes, and taking his youngest sister with them. It takes five men to load Lord Robert onto the wheelhouse as he coughs and wheezes and Maester of Storm’s End refuses to see his lord and lady away, whispering to anyone who would listen that this whole idea is pure lunacy.
But it is easier to breathe in the castle without them and Gendry smiles more when he doesn’t have to visit his father every day and see him fading away. Even his two remaining sisters, Aelin and Lara, seem to be a little bit more carefree and talkative, and Lara goes as far as starting to practice water dancing along with Arya.
For all this bliss, Arya doesn’t kid herself into believing that is the last she sees of lady Isabelle. After all, she is of House Royce and Maester Luwin taught Arya her houses well.
And Royces of Runestones have a very memorable motto indeed.
We remember.
***
Little Lady, that’s how smallfolk has taken to calling her. Little Lady and Lady Wolf and Winter Rose even, sometimes, after someone starts to marvel at her likeness to Queen Lyanna. It stung at the beginning, made her stomach turn with irritation and her eyes roll. She could stomach Lady Wolf – it sounded kind of bloody fantastic, to be honest – but all the rest she was honestly despising.
Soon enough tho, a new addition come in front of each of her many names, the one that completely turned everything around.
‘’Our Little Lady’’ - servants address her tenderly, when they think she’s nowhere to be seen.
“Our Lady Wolf!” – village children would laugh, crowding around her on the streets, tugging on her clothes and begging for sweets and stories.
“Yes, our lady is simply amazing, isn’t she?” – guards would whisper in between each other, after not-so-discretely watching her practice archery in the courtyard on a sunny afternoon.
She does not like being The Lady any more than she thought she would. But she supposes could be their lady, the lady of those people, when ‘’our’’ sounded like a bigger honorific that whatever followed it.
Stormlands grow on her, slowly and surely, like a vine covering stone. This beautiful, violent lands; deep, dark woods, blindingly white cliffs of Durrandon’s Point and Shipwrecker’s Bay’s angry, stone-blue sea. The sky that seems to always be in motion, just like in the North. Storms, so constant and yet so breathtaking, leaving a peculiar aftertaste in the air. She spends every free moment on the horseback, riding from village to village and along the coast, exploring every inch and nook and letting Nymeria roam loose, until her wolf collapses by Gendry’s feet in the evening, panting and satisfied.
To be honest tho, there is not much time for Arya to waste it like that.
She’s keeping herself busy, filling her days with bookkeeping and trade negotiations and construction of guilds, with breeding hounds and tending to horses. There is a lot to mend; Robert was a reckless spender and his wife loved unnecessary frivolities, but Arya’s sure they can pay off their debts just fine if they will manage without peacocks for suppers for a while and cut the amount of lavish feasts in half.
Gendry shows her the maps of trade routes in the region and they spend hours upon hours of reviewing the stream of goods, arguing about the possible new harbors on the coastline and the construction of roads. She’s losing her sleep in favor of counting taxes, monitoring the state of their coffers and wondering what else they could possibly produce. Arya would’ve never guessed all of it would be so engaging, but it is. And all the work feels so very rewarding, so useful.
It’s easy to have a clear objective, when it has a name and a face, be it freckled Mel from the kitchens, her favorite guard Willen or Old Tom that sits in the docks all day long and gifts her with fresh clams every time she’s passing him on Shiver. It’s easy to work for them, to make their lives better. Especially because Arya’s and Gendry’s lives are already so good.
Soon, she introduces her favorite Winterfell tradition of dining with a different resident of the households, be it the Captain of the Guard or the Head Stablemaster. But instead of moving to sidelines like her mother used to, Arya sits on one side of their guest and Gendry on another one, asking questions together. Maybe, just maybe, she even talks more.
Maybe she generally does just as much governing as him, definitely more than is expected of her. Maybe people talk behind her back about how improper it all is.
Maybe, but Gendry himself certainly doesn’t seem to mind all that.
At night, he hoists her legs up, rests her calves on his broad shoulders and fucks her, long and hard and slow, nipping on her neck and collarbone now and then, or suckling on her nipples until she’s trembling like a flame in the fireplace, desperately beginning him with a broken voice that she doesn’t even recognize as hers to please, please, just go faster and finish her off.
She told him she would not bow to any man and she keeps her promise; she does not bow to him. She surrenders thou, gladly and sweetly, if only because it makes her all hot and wet every time he puts his hands on her and pins her down forcefully to cover her body with his. His grip is strong and bruising and maybe she should feel violated by that, but how does it even matter, if his kisses are so gentle and his eyes so loving? This is safety; this is her Gendry. She could close her eyes and moan all she fucking desires and he would never, ever hurt her.
She leaves scratches down his back and he leaves her skin peppered with love bites and they ruin and devour each other in the most delicious, delirious way there is.
How her mother and her sister warned her of a marriage bed. She wants to laugh every time she thinks about it.
***
A raven comes with news of Sansa bearing a healthy girl named Alyssa, said to be red of hair and purple of eyes. And, as on cue, Arya’s moon blood comes once, twice and then stops.
Soon, her breasts fill up painfully and she stops sleeping well, fruitlessly tossing and turning in bed until Gendry sleepily gathers her in his arms and caresses her hair, calming her down.
And then she barges into the kitchens one day and demands, very loudly, for the cook to stop preparing fish, seven hells, can he just not, is it really that hard to understand that fish makes her sick?
And she knows what it means. She’s not blind or ignorant. But this knowledge feels heavy, so heavy that she’d rather leave it untouched than try to carry it on her shoulders. They have just settled into some kind of routine. This… this will turn everything around yet again.
Unfortunately, she did not marry a stupid man either. A little silly sometimes, but not stupid.
So, when he buries his face in-between her breasts one evening and her gasp clearly a pained, not an aroused one, he carefully rests his chin on her clavicle and breathes out deeply.
“Arya.’’
‘’Gendry.’’
He huffs in annoyance, raising himself up on his elbows and taking his weight off her.
‘'Arya, please.’’
‘’Yes?’’
If he plays dumb, she will also.
‘’Are you with a child?’’ he asks her, straight-up, and his voice – gods, his voice. Everything rings in it, every possible emotion; fear and excitement and anxiousness and hope and love. So much love and he doesn’t even try to conceal it.
And maybe it’s the babe – she seriously hopes so, because otherwise she’s just getting soft which is simply ridiculous – but Arya can feel her heart painfully clenching in her chest as her husband’s blue eyes flicker in the candlelight.
She gently cards her fingers through his thick curls, pushing them away from her face.
‘’Would you like me to be?’’ – she already knows the answer, but she still wants to hear it. Just.. just to be sure. Just to lean against his unwavering strength and drew from it when her doubts eat her alive.
He swiftly rises to a kneeling position and pulls her along, settling her on his lap with her arms looped around his neck and her bare thighs straddling him. A fresh wave of arousal crushes over her and she hums in delight as he places his hand on her hip, his fingers digging into her skin.
‘’Arya. I would be by far the happiest man in the world if you were.’’ He says solemnly, his other hand cradling the back of her head. ‘’But being honest, I am already happier than I ever thought I will be, having you with me. So tell me. Please.’’
He lets go of her hip to tentatively cup her still-flat belly and she just cannot drag it any longer, not when he seems to tremble in anticipation underneath her.
‘’Aye.’’
He breathes in and out deeply, his eyes still locked with hers. There is a dazed expression of his face and Arya’s sure no one has ever looked at her that way; the way Septas look at figures of Mother in Sept, the way Jon was looking at dancing Dany at the wedding, the way sunsets are supposed to be looked at.
He looks at her as if she was a gift sent from gods.
“Aye?’’
‘’Aye. I am.’’ She’s nodding and oh fuck, when did she start crying? When did she start grinning, when did he pull her head closer to his? When did he start kissing her, laughing against her mouth and tasting salt on her lips?
Aye, aye.
Aye.
It seems all the sweetest moments in her life start with just this one word.
***
Dany and Jon come to visit, just as they promised during the wedding; they arrive with a surprisingly small escort and the whole trip seems as informal as possible, for what Arya’s eternally grateful.
She has started to throw up so often and so much that she has grown frail, which drives her insane and irritable. It doesn’t help that the more she vomits, the more Gendry frets, so with the guests at Storm’s End at least he has something else to occupy himself with besides asking her if she’s fine the thousandth time a day.
Which she is. She is perfectly fine and perfectly capable of riding a horse or managing her duties. Thanks gods he has enough reason not to question it out loud, or else she would positively stick him full of holes with a Needle.
Which she is also capable of, just to be clear.
Dany, of course, looks like a daydream. She brings Arya a ton of books and even starts teaching her Old Valyrian, laughing at her butchered pronunciation. The Princess is also far more vocal about the situation at King’s Landing than Jon has ever been and all that she’s talking about gives Arya lots to ponder over in her head at night.
Especially Queen Elia revelation.
‘’I’m honestly surprised it’s not public knowledge already.’’ Dany simply states, ignoring Arya’s wide-opened eyes. ‘’They’re not even trying very hard to be discreet anymore.’’
‘’But – Arthur Dayne? And your brother, he allows it?’’
‘’Arya, please. In this whole situation they have, my brother is the one with the least power whatsoever. After all – ‘’ Dany takes a sip of wine from her goblet, smirking a little, ‘’- he is the one who caused this mess. First, he married Elia even though he didn’t want to. Then he married Lyanna because he wanted to. And one could argue whether or not he was right in any of those cases.’’
“And the children? I mean, doesn’t anyone question if they are really his?’’
Daenerys gracefully rests her chin on her hand and humms.
‘’Well, Aegon is Rheagar’s, there is no wondering about that at all.’’ Arya supposed it was true, given her good brother’s true Targaryen coloring. ‘’Rhaenys, well, maybe one could dig deeper when it comes to her, but why should one bother? It’s not like she is the heir of anything. She’s married now, shipped to Highgarden and, as far as I know, greatly enjoys wreaking havoc there.’’
Arya bites on her lips, looking out of the window and the busy courtyard. She can hear the sound of hammered steel and that involuntarily makes her smile. They did a few changes in the staff of the castle and now they have such a good steward that Gendry manages to steal a few hours a week to work in the forge. He looks happier now; calmer. Even when he frets over her, it’s less frantic.
‘’You two are adorable.’’ Dany giggles, which makes Arya wheeze.
‘’Please, stop it.’’
‘’No, I’m serious. It really shows how much you care for him. And him for you.’’ Dany’s looking at her with eyes sparkling with mischief and Arya has only a second to brace herself before her almost-goodsister asks: ‘’Is it good in bed? I’m sure it’s good in bed.’’
‘’Dany!’’
‘’What? You’re with a child, do you think I’d believe a stork brought it to you one afternoon?’’
***
‘’Did you know that my father wanted to marry Ashara Dayne before the whole situation with uncle Brandon?’’ she asks Gendry one afternoon, making him tear his eyes away from the scroll he’s currently studying.
‘’What?’’
‘’Oh, yes. Apparently, they were very much in love.’’ She rubs the gentle curve of her belly absent-mindedly, looking at the gathering storm outside. The babe has just started quickening, and she’s starting to get used to the strange sensation. ‘’It’s not like it was not possible. Although that would surely be unexpected, to have a Dornish woman so far North.’’
Gendry murmurs something under his breath which sounds suspiciously like bloody Daynes.
‘’Oh please, stop it already. Ned’s a perfect noble knight.’’
‘’There’s nothing noble in the way he devours you with his damn eyes every time he visits.’’
Arya giggles, trying to imagine honorable, bland Ned ogling anyone.
‘’I think you are irrational. But rest easy; soon I’ll be too fat for anyone to devour me, with their eyes or otherwise.’’
This time Gendry’s groan is even louder and perfectly clear.
‘’Damn you woman, stop whining.’’ He raises from the chair and collapses on the bed next to her, making the mattress bounce. ‘’You know you’re beautiful, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Even more beautiful now. How many times will you make me say it?’’
‘’Take off your boots.’’ She grumbles, but softly. It’s hard to be irritated at him when he gets like that; when the candles are so short and she just wants to curl by her husband’s side and talk with him about just anything and everything until they fall asleep. Gendry sneaks an arm around her waist, pressing her closer to him and resting his forehead on her back, between her shoulder blades.
For a moment they’re just laying like that; under the yellow canopy and buried in the soft furs, with a distant sound of thunder outside, as the room gets darker and darker.
‘’Sometimes I’m wondering if any marriages are happy at all.’’ She lets out with a sigh, making Gendry stir awake from his half-nap. He props himself on the elbow to take a look at her face.
‘’Your parents are happy, I think. Even if they wanted to marry different people at the beginning.’’
‘’Yeah, but- I don’t know. Can you really forget your first love completely?’’
Arya saw Ashara Dayne at the wedding, peering at her father from underneath a fan of dark lashes, her violet eyes so striking and her still pitch-black hair so lovely that even Catelyn Stark’s pale irises and greying red locks didn’t stand a chance in comparison.
And surely Mother must’ve looked at Father many, many times through the years and wonder about uncle Brandon and what could’ve been-s. How weird it must have been for her to live with him and aunt Barbrey those first few years?
‘’I cannot possibly know that.’’ Gendry says gently, raising his hand up to caress the side of her face and then placing it on top of her swollen belly. ‘’You were my first love anyway.’’
‘’You have never told me that before.’’ She breaths out. The babe flutters inside her anxiously and she reassures it inside her head everything’s perfect, everything’s fine. She has never asked him, truth to be told, but she did not kid herself into believing Gendry did not have any flings before he asked her to marry him. ‘’Did you – back in Winterfell?’’
‘’Of course I loved you in Winterfell.’’ He grins, spreading his fingers wider on her middle and trying to feel tiny kicks better. ‘’You were small and always dirty and absolutely unafraid. And underfoot at all times. And you loved to talk, but you would listen so patiently. I was gone before I even knew what’s going on.’’
Cold mud in-between her fingers , crusting her hair. Gendry making faces at her from across the table. How they made wildflower crowns for each other and the one she made for him fell apart in seconds, but the one he gave her stayed intact for the whole weeks.
She loved him then, that was never a question.
‘’But it was different.’’ Her voice is small, laced with too many emotions to untangle them all.
‘’Damn well it was different. ‘’ his arm sneaks underneath her back, pulling her closer until they’re face-to-face. ‘’Until I saw you in that green dress. It was like a lightning strike.. You have frighteningly nice tits Arya, really.’’
‘’Oh gods.’’ She starts to giggle, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck. His skin smells like iron and steel and fresh breeze and she inhales it as deeply as possible. ‘’One can always trust you to ruin the mood, Gendry. Here I thought it’s the time for grand confessions, but you just wanted to admit you married me for my tits.’’
‘’Not only for them.’’ He pinches the side of one of her breast lightly, making her yelp. ‘’But they were definitely a factor in my decision.’’
‘’I love you, you big, stupid idiot.’’ She admits in-between fits of laughter, her lips moving against his skin and shivering violently when he hitches up her nightgown to touch her naked waist that has just began to widen considerably.
‘’I love you too, you wild woman.’’ He chuckles, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of her head. His hand travels down and she can feel her eyelids already fluttering. ‘’More than I ever thought I would love anyone. And I really hope I can prove you wrong – with this no happy marriages thing.’’
‘’You’ve already did.’’ He slips his fingers in-between her folds and curls them, so her voice comes out like a sigh rather than a statement. The hell with how he disarms her, with how he makes her feel. ‘’Because I am happy, I really am.’’
She would never lie to Gendry, she’s sure of that. However, she also does not think she has ever been as honest as she’s now, saying those words.
***
But the sky falls down upon them anyway.
Arya wakes up in the middle of the night, in the pitch-black chambers; Gendry’s still snoring beside her, the two of them cocooned by the soft furs. She keeps her eyes closed and tries to fall asleep again, to come back to the ever-pleasant dream of running through the Stormlands’ woods on all fours, searching for the prey. But some deep, unsettling sensation inside her keeps her awake; it raises in intensity until it transforms into pain in her lower belly sharp enough to make her gasp. She shuffles a little, her hand immediately shoots to cradle her bump; and instead of easing, it gets worse with the change of the position, forcing her to kneel on the mattress with her thighs spread.
What’s going on? What’s going on, what’s going on – is running through her mind on a loop and she’s still too sleepy to really get scared until something within her tightens like a bow, making her spine arch and she’s sure she must let out a moan or whine, because Gendry stirs a little. And then whatever was tightened lets lose suddenly, only it does not feel like letting loose; it feels as if someone tore her insides in half, the way maids tears old shirts into rags.
Hunched-over, her lids shut close, and more awake than she has ever been, she begins to pray.
Millions of women has surely prayed like that before and will pray like that until the end of times. There is only one prayer for a moment like that, the one no one had to teach them; no pretty hymn, but a broken litany.
Don’t, dear gods, don’t, don’t kill my child, please, please don’t let it happen, please, I’m begging you
But it’s for naught, of course.
When she opens her eyes, all she sees is blinding crimson spilling out of her, sticking to her skin, staining the sheets, staining everything.
There is wind blowing outside and wolves howling in the woods and Gendry sleepily asking her what’s wrong, but she does not hear any of that; all she’s hearing is white noise ringing in her ears endlessly, drowning her desperate no-s and please-s in it.
**
Arya's handmaiden Irene is everything Arya isn’t and more; tall and rounded, and fair-headed. Graceful. She curtsies beautifully and wears her hair up often, exposing the beautiful line of her neck.
But most of all, she has two small boys with identical gaps between their front teeth. They herd around Gendry’s legs in the courtyard like the rest of the children at Storm’s End, begging him to play hide-and-seek with them and shrieking with joy when he starts to chase them.
And the very sight of that grips Arya’s throat with an icy fist, stealing her breath away.
She used to play with those children too, teach them letters during sunny afternoons, telling them stories about North and defending them from the cook when they were caught in the kitchens with sweets in their hands. She used to love their presence, their high-pitched laughter and little hands. They were the only ones who listened when she asked them to call her by her name, not ‘’Lady Baratheon’’.
But ever since she lost her babe, she hasn’t been able to muster the courage to tend to other women’s children, Irene’s least of all.
Her boys are dark-haired and blue-eyed, and that inevitably makes Arya wonder, suspicion festering in her heart like maggots on the open wound. How old are they? Three and four? How many years has passed since Gendry came from Winterfell back to Storm’s End?
Numbers are swimming in her mind, stealing her sleep as she lays at night by her husband’s side, having once again escaped from his arms. She curls with her back to him, knowing full well she’s being stupid and inconsiderate and ridiculous. Gendry promised her he’d be true and gave her no reasons to believe he would ever break this promise.
And yet.
She wouldn’t be surprised if he had Irene on a side, or any other woman. Why wouldn’t he?
It’s been a long time since he was a boy with fine leather breeches stained by the Winterfell’s mud and she was a little girl, laughing together after they ate summer peaches, juice dripping down their chins.
Now they’re older and she is nothing but broken.
***
‘’My lady, would you like to go for a horse ride after dinner?’’
‘’I’m sorry, I don’t feel so well today. I think I’ll go and lay down for the afternoon.’’
‘’Lady Arya, would you like me to accompany you on your walk?’’
‘’There is no need Lancel, I’ll be fine on my own.’’
‘’Please, eat some more soup. Or maybe you’d like something else? Some ham or bread with cheese?’’
‘’No, it was enough. Thank you.’’
She burns letter after letter after letter; the fire in their chamber never dies down, fed constantly with Ned and Catelyn’s words, with Jon and Dany’s words, with Sansa’s words, with Bran’s words. Her words are the same and constant, on every parchment she sends back.
I’m fine, don’t worry about me.
It feels easier to lie when they are so far away.
It’s not so easy to lie to those who surround her, and so, for the first time in her life, Arya turns into a lone wolf. Her days are long now; nights even longer - stars obscured by the clouds and corridors of the castle empty and dark when she strolls through them hours before dawn, Nymeria following her soundlessly on her soft paws like a shadow, baring her teeth at anyone who dares to come closer.
It’s weird how washed-down everything has suddenly became, all those things that used to be vibrant and thrilling. The sound of Shiver’s hooves hitting the ground, the icy waters of Shipbreaker’s Bay washing her feet, the stone walls warmed by the sun. Her husband’s eyes. Food in her mouth, air in her lungs.
She naps plenty during the day and in her dreams, she’s back in Winterfell, she is still one and ten and the sky is still the right color. She’s running through the Godswood laughing; she doesn’t see her pack but she knows they’re there, she can hear their voices, she can almost see them in-between trees. And every time, just as she’s about to reach them, the dream turns into air and mist. No matter how fast she’s running, no matter how loudly she calls for them.
Time after time, she wakes up; one second she’s full and another - empty again.
***
One afternoon, as she’s sitting in her solar and reading a book still in her nightgown with Nymeria curled by her feet, Gendry all but barges in without knocking.
She almost jumps, startled, and her direwolf lets out a warning growl but Gendry crosses the room in three long strides and drops to his knees by her chair before burying his face in her lap. All without uttering a single word.
His fist clutch the material of her skirts and when she tentatively puts a hand on his shoulder, he starts to tremble.
‘’Gendry..’’ she sighs, as Nymeria licks his exposed forearms and flops back on the floor, apparently deciding he’s not a danger of any kind.
He’s still not saying anything, so she cards her fingers through his hair – how soft it is, she almost forgot it – and dragging her hands along the sides of his face before gently pulling his chin up.
He’s crying.
He’s kneeling on the floor in front of her and crying, his blue eyes all wet an eyelashes tangled and she has never seen him like that before. And if she thought she was heartbroken before, she was damn wrong, cause this is what heartbreak feels like. She cannot even breathe.
‘’Gendry. What’s-‘’
‘’I should be asking you that. What’s going on, Arya? Where did you go?’’ he lets those word out of himself like arrows, fast and true. - ‘’Where are you?’’ he asks desperately, staring at her with such intensity that her first instinct is to hide.
‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about.’’ She says weakly and almost winces herself at the falsehood of this sentence.
Gendry’s face breaks.
‘’Arry.’’ He scrambles to his feet, instantly towering above her as he leans down to cup her face in his hands. ‘’Arry, please, don’t do this. Please, come back to me. Please.’’
His tears roll down his cheek and drop on her skin and it’s like the dam inside her was broken, because suddenly a sob escapes from her chest, once, twice, before turning into a wail and she doesn’t even notice when or how, but she’s in Gendry’s arms, crying her heart out like never before in her life.
‘’Arya, Arry, my love, please.’’ He’s whispering sweet nonsense in her ear, letting her stain his shirt and holding her tight enough that her ribs hurt. He caresses her hair: ‘’It’s alright.’’
‘’No, it’s not.’’ She manages to let out in-between sobs. Her body feels hot; she’s shaking like a leaf on the wind and her crying only intensifies with every passing second. ‘’You don’t – you don’t understand.’’
‘’Arya, it was my babe too-‘’
‘’It died inside me!’’ she’s positively hysteric now, but it doesn’t matter cause he still doesn’t get it. She tears herself away from him to look at his face, her eyes stinging from salt so much that she’s barely seeing anything at all. ‘’I felt it die inside me, spilling out of me! You don’t understand – you don’t understand.’’
‘’You’re right.’’ He leans his forehead against her. ‘’I don’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Arya, I’m sorry.’’
She thinks he must be crying almost as hard as she is, for how many times he apologizes to her, their noses bumping and breaths shaking, until she buries her face in the crook of his neck and he embraces her again; they’re rock back-and-forth together like that for what seems like hours until her sobs turn into hiccups and he starts to speak again.
‘’But you didn’t give me a chance, Arya. You took it all and locked inside and – how do you expect me to compete with your stubbornness, huh? You cannot.’’
And it’s a testament of how much she loves him and how well he knows her, that, against everything, she quietly chuckles at those words.
‘’I’m sorry too.’’ Her voice sounds small and teary, but also like hers and it’s something that she hasn’t experienced for far longer than she realized.
There’s liberation in how they’re sitting, wrapped up in each other on the floor, faces wet and clothes disheveled. He breathes in; she breathes out. She can even feel his heart beating so steady and strong next to hers. She cannot remember ever feeling closer to him than in this moment, pouring all this pain and suffering she’s been feeling onto him and only getting love back.
‘’I- I should’ve talked to you.’’
‘’You should’ve. Or I should’ve never let you get so far. I will never make this mistake again.’’ He rubs her back in circles, his lips pressing to her exposed shoulder blade the sweetest of kisses. ‘’Please, don’t leave me alone. You promised you’ll be with me, you remember?’’
‘’Of course. We are family, right? Even if-even if I-‘’ she cannot force herself to finish this sentence, no matter that the words already hang in-between them heavily. Even if we won’t have children.
‘’Don’t think like that.’’ His arms tighten around her. ‘’We’ll get another shot. And yes, even if we won’t .. you’re all the family I need. Now and always. You are enough. More than enough.’’
She loops her arm around his neck, pressing his face closer to her body until he rests it on her shoulder. Her fingers tangle in the shorter hair at the back of his head and there are fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, but she’ll let them flow. It’s about time for them.
‘’You are enough for me too.’’
***
This evening, the lady of the castle walks down the stairs in black-and-golden dress, hand in hand with her husband, and sits down by his side in the Round Hall of Storm’s End without any big ceremonies. Her eyes are a little red and she’s still too pale… but it’s nothing that good stew and a little bit of sunshine won’t fix, the cook reasons, peaking at the table from the kitchens and barking at the servers to bring some of those lemon cakes she likes so much to Lady Arya, gods, cannot they think about such things for themselves, must she tell them everything?
Arya’s not laughing, but she smiles and eats, and, when they pour wine into her goblet, she accepts. There is a traveling bard dining with them tonight; when asked, he sings some song about Nymeria of Rhyone and the corners of Arya’s lips rise up slowly, almost shyly, as she rests her head on Gendry’s shoulder and listens.
Some keener-eyed servants notice that Lord Gendry is holding her hand under the table through the whole meal and of course, every maid in the castle starts swooning, because how romantic is that? How lovely?
Stable boys, stewards or guards don’t care much about all this nonsense, or at least they claim so – even if they are quietly wondering how much time will pass since a certain short figure will appear on the courtyard again to order them around. Regardless of them, one thing remains true; all of the residents of Storm’s End, the oldest and the youngest alike, stare at Arya and Gendry this night and let out a collective breath of relief.
Arya would have to be blind not to notice that. And she won’t be lying; it makes her feel a little bit soft inside.
***
Gendry turned out to be right in the end, as he as an infuriating tendency to be – they do get another shot.
At the height of the blooming spring, little Ned is born, piercing the ears of everyone at Storm End’s with his cries ever since his first breath.
Arya’s heart sings when they lay him down on her bare chest and he looks up at her – her boy, her sweet little boy who blinks his gray eyes at her and seems to know exactly who she is – and she caresses his chubby cheeks with her finger.
‘’Oh, hello, darling.’’ She must sound ridiculous, but it does not feel ridiculous at all. Not when Gendry first holds their son in his arms and stares at him with this pure adoration written in every line on his face and then doesn’t change the expression at all when he raises his eyes to her.
Not when she breaths in Ned’s perfect baby scent and then breathes out and realizes it’s the end of walking on eggshells and acting as if she was made of glass like they did throughout her whole pregnancy. Their babe is with them and he’s just – he’s just theirs to keep and to have and to love.
Not when Ned falls asleep on her breast while nursing and a drip of milk escapes from in-between his tiny lips and Arya notices he clutches a strand of her hair in his fist.
And definitely not when she wakes up in the middle of the night because it’s so hot and finds Gendry walking around the room shirtless, rocking Ned gently and singing to him lullabies quietly, his eyes shining in the darkness and the sound of summer storm outside.
It does not feel ridiculous.
It feels like she can finally stop searching for some unknown things; it feels like a cue to stop where she’s standing and let her roots grow deep.
Gendry snoring, his face so soft and smooth when he’s dreaming. Ned napping, his tiny head pillowed on her clavicle. Storm’s End; strong and ancient and hers and home, the sea always humming outside its walls.
All my summers and winters are yours. She makes her vow silently and lets her lids drop.
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ACE PINAFORE ACE PINAFORE ACE PINAFORE
Look at it! I made dis!!
There's a couple fitting issues with the bodice but I've made the executive decision to Not Care and so it's fine. I've never made a bodice before (there have been Attempts I'd rather not think about 😂) so I'm quite happy with that.
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Blue, its Complexity, its Contradictory Meanings
The proverbial darkness revives him even when he’s dying; it reinvigorates him when he’s drenched in the halcyon, immaculate sapphire, the blinding light that will set the course of his world straight. It sews the ripped edges, it makes him wholesome. Even when Kuai Liang continues to be enamored with his hurt, with his pain and suffering and victimhood, despite him intricately interwoven beneath the infinite pathway of his twisted and tangled veins. How he would love to be tossed into an abyss, inciting poignant destruction.
The night is kissing him softly; it’s bright and comforting, as the aura continuing to blanket him with the sense of security. Shadowed underneath with the stars stitched across the midnight azure and the constellations are bursting into different flames. Kuai Liang fights endless wars, and every atom of his flesh is as dear to him as in pain and sickness, he would let the soothing meditation allow him to close his eyes, without a thorny pick drenched in his mind. No recurring thoughts of his lionhearted spirit ripping apart again consumes him; he may have escaped another nerve of shattered glass, his being glittering rivulets of blood, sequined only by sharp agony, nagging him day and night as he would trail acid honey in his wake.
Even beneath the disjointed waltzing of stolen breaths, thrumming with palpitations, quivering flesh and sweet exquisite release of deadened nerves paint over his corporeality like a sand painting all become the solitary delusion when he’s actually awake with clarity and intensity in his eyes. With each threatening press of his heart, the grains would swirl and hurtle across the ambiance as a lost cause. Those technicolor full walls of his quarters would become a mirage, a series of hallucinations with crushingly empty rooms, barren corridors and entirely absent of such projection of the Lin Kuei’s grandeur and once flourishing life amidst corruption and division.
The lachesism of his life - the desire to be struck by disaster, which would put a kink in the smooth arc of his life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of his life and the other - would penetrate the cloaked veil of his sapphire eyes, hastening the dispersion of fear and doubt. The spark of his passionate rebellion still lives, even in his weakened state, unable to resist the overtures of the world, embattled by the desire by which he threw himself upon his resilient defences. Such renewed energy would penetrate the cloaked walls of the shadowed hallways, thickening with smoke-stacked mantras of his frustration and brooding contemplation as countless dead are grieved and mourned with lasting limerence.
Kuai Liang is exquisitely addicted to the white and unyielding stretch of nothingness, beneath the foresight of a boy in a transformative transition of becoming a man; just like he had beneath the fiercely stroked heart, as burning freeze would conglomerate and reclaim the entirety of Tundra’s making. Some days, the sun would shine ever too brightly and with too much cruelty that it would leave his lips dry and chapped from all the nonsense he had kept repeating, then he would wander the world as it is, to view its blatant paradise. To take in the colliding lives of his own as everything fuels craving, as he yearns to stand amidst the crashing wave, as sky touches foundation, his cryomancy painting the halcyon twilight from every rising horizon of his body.
Even when the winter in his mind has been significantly dwindled and now the natural world would prepare for the imminent frigidness. How the viridescent blades reach their full potential as the desolate landscape of Arctika has filled the beautiful poetry of his pain, as every broken syllable. Kuai Liang will never flinch as he would wait until the blood and the dust and all the powerlessness his weapon entitles for him to hold its unyielding, vehement power. The squalor of the world is unworthy of his such quiet strength he embodies.
The harsh upheaval of his permafrost, composing a melodious, yet ruthless tune. His cryomancy breathes the disastrous environmental factor of malice, though his thawed heart stretches with abundant, agglomerated hope and desire to improve and quality his worthiness as the slow, steady beat of his blood guides his body. Beneath the onyx stretch of the night, the nodus tollens - the realization that the plot of his life doesn’t make sense to him anymore—that although he thought he was following the arc of the story, he keeps finding himself immersed in passages he doesn’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires him to go back and reread the chapters of life he had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along he was supposed to choose his own adventure - of his life reigns over a temporary peace of his mind as it unwinds. Even in his desperate hope and hopelessness, Kuai Liang, the ever-resilient Lin Kuei Grandmaster will do what it takes to find trail of diamonds, embedded in the lucid tapestry of the sky above and below him.
#✗ partaking the care of the soul (aesthetic)#✗ bone-deep chill of despair (sub-zero)#✗ cold chill of despair (ii)#✗ you are an equal amongst deceivers (iii)#(the night's word vomit)
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Im still working on what happens to Dodger after he becomes Death. But since watching Adventure time I wanted to add an odd sense of sweetness to the mix and Im tired of all my characters being boring humans
I channeled my inner mom and made this. This is what its like having a girl sometimes.
Since i finally decided that my magic system would be based off of patterns of clothe, sewing, embroidery and the likes I've been having alot of fun with building characters off of it.
I decided that "ghosts" were manifestation of clothes with really powerful threads. Some ghosts stitch themselves new appendages and can keep adding onto their bodies as long as their magical manifestation is powerful enough.
This is flemming. She is Dodgers friend. After Dodger decides to become Death and he starts his quest to purge the souls of malice he comes across a little manifestation that has taken a liking to Dodger. Dodger named her fleming because it sounded like flamingo and shes ALL PINK. like a flamingo
#comic books#demonize#graphicnovel#graphite#graphite pencil drawing#story#story art#comic#comicart#fantasy#original character#characterillustration#fictional characters#horror fantasy#fantasy art
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My Little Pony crossovers and collabs that I want to see happen- Part 1
(In no particular order)
Fashion
My Little Pony x Minori– this person is a revolutionary model who reinvented “Shironuri” (painted in white) street fashion in Harajuku, Japan. She has been featured in Vogue and has an international following. Moore often than not, her artistic outfits consist of soft and flowing pastels, which would work quite nicely with MLP’s image and pastel ponies. Ideally, the pony I would like to see utilized in this collaboration would be Rarity, who is also a fashionista and well versed in the art of style, but also Fluttershy, who has had her moment in the spotlight with modeling, but is also quite knowledgeable about sewing as well. Perhaps also to be considered is Celestia, as her color scheme would work nicely with the Shuronuri theme and iconic styles of Minori, who best utilizes the fashion; along with a possible dusting-off and reappearance of the g3 original character, Kimono in the style of g4 (or g5)- for obvious reasons.
My Little Pony x Moi-même-Moitié– this gothic lolita fashion brand is iconic in Japan, and was created by the visual kei gothic metal band, Malice Mizer/ Moi Dix Mois’ leader and guitarist, Mana. While the image of this brand doesn’t necessarily mesh with a bright and pastel little ponies, there are a few darker-themed lines of this popular toy brand that could work nicely with it; case in point, the Ponymania collection. While they seemed more like a mishmash of visual kei rock, gothic lolita, and sweet lolita all rolled into one, a second attempt at this Ponymania theme, in collaboration with Mana’s fashion brand, with Ponies such as Moonlight Raven, Rarity, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna, and Inky Rose would be perfect for this.
Music/ Vocals
My Little Pony x Yoshiki– a Japanese musician, songwriter, composer, record producer, and co-founder of the heavy metal visual kei band, X Japan. This guy is pretty major, as he was requested by the Japanese government to compose and perform a song for the Emperor’s coronation, has a radio station named after him, collabed with American comic book legends like Stan Lee and Todd McFarlane (as well as a guest of honor at Stan Lee’s Comikaze Expo), along with music legends like KISS, designed theme songs for the Golden Globe Awards, played a concert in Madiison Square Garden, has a hologram of himself, and so many more monumental achievements. As to why I think MLP should collab with him, he is a phenomenal musician and songwriter. If he were to work with Daniel Ingram or just standalone, I suspect that future songs for any reboot series for MLP would be equally exquisite.
Animation and Story Direction
My Little Pony x Hayao Miyazaki– One of Japan’s highly respected and most prominent film directors/ producer/screenwriter/ animator/ author, manga artist/ co-founder of studio Ghibli who is responsible for a laundry list of amazing animated films like Spirited Away (which won an Acadamy Award for best Animated Film (making it the only hand drawn animated film and non-English-language animated film to win that award), and was the highest-grossing animated film in Japanese history, and overtook Titanic, at the time, as highest-grossing film worldwide). A collab with this man would be refreshing, as like MLP, many of his works are characterized by themes such as environmentalism (humanity’s relationship with nature and technology), pacifism (the difficulty of maintaining a pacifist ethic in a violent world), feminism, love, and family. In addition, The protagonists of his films are often strong girls or young women. Miyazaki has described his female characters as “brave, self-sufficient girls that don’t think twice about fighting for what they believe in with all their heart”, stating that they may “need a friend, or a supporter, but never a saviour” and that “any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man” For a show about ponies that promote love and friendship, a collab with a person such as this seems ideal.
Anime (Animation)/ Manga
My Little Pony x Cardcaptor Sakura– this is a crossover that I’ve expressed a desire to see made possible before. Read it in my blog here: https://happypastelponies.tumblr.com/post/170326310843/why-mlp-fim-should-crossover-with-cardcaptor
My Little Pony x Care Bears– this is a crossover that I’ve expressed a desire to see made possible before. Read it in my blog here: https://happypastelponies.tumblr.com/post/171670025613/are-my-little-pony-care-bears-related-theory
My Little Pony x Star Darlings– This would be an ideal collab to make a reality in order to promote Hasbro’s IP: Namely, through the production and promotion line of a g1 (perhaps anniversary related) spinoff that would allow them to finally produce a group of long-time prototype ponies called the “celestial ponies”/ “Fancy Swirl” ponies, especially since there has been a bit of hype amid the Gen 1 community of pony collectors, which they’ve been trying to get noticed and made by a company called Bridge Direct/ Basic Fun. With their celestial theme, they would pair and play nicely with the Disney Star Darling franchise in collaboration, whose characters are based off the 12 astrological symbols and live in a setting called Starland, in the celestial skies.
Voice Acting & Series Appearances
My Little Pony x Wanda Sykes– An American voice actor, comedian, and writer. This is one person who has quite a distinctive voice and plays in a number of comedic roles, such as “Granny Sloth” in “Ice Age”, “Stella the Skunk” in “Over the Hedge”, and “Barb Baran” in “The New Adventures of Old Christine”. She was also named one of the top 25 funniest people in America by Entertainment Weekly. There’s no doubt her memorable voice acting could bring a fresh dose of comedic relief on MLP, especially in union with Pinkie Pie.
My Little Pony x Whoopi Goldberg– An American actress, comedian, author, and tv host. She is one of the few people to have won an Oscar, a Grammy, Emmy, and Tony Award. Her voice is also iconic, and she has had many roles in films and series such as “Star Trek- the Next Generation”, “How Stella Got Her Groove Back”, “The Color Purple”, and “Sister Act”; while also VA’ing a character, “Shenzi the Hyena” in “The Lion King”. Due to her comedic and Voice acting background, she could also bring a hint of comedy and acting talents to the MLP series.
Other:
Moon Dreamers x Star Darlings– While not necessarily a My Little Pony related crossover, it is one with another one of Hasbro’s Intellectual Properties, “Moon Dreamers”. This would provide a good opportunity for Hasbro to dust off one of its older IP’s and revitalize a long dead toyline from the 80’s.
With Moon Dreamers, they are insanely similar to a more recent IP made by Disney, called “Star Darlings”. One IP’s characters works with dreams, while the other series’ characters works with wishes, and correct me if I’m wrong here, but those are both really identical professions. Especially where Disney is concerned, apparently. The lyrics of a classic song “when you wish upon a star” has verses that say the following: “A Dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep”. The only difference is that while Moon Dreamers work in the world of slumber to grant kids their wishes/ dreams, Star Darlings work in the waking world to do the same. And Hasbro is no stranger to collaborating with Disney.
#my#little#pony#friendship#magic#mlp#fim#crossover#collab#care bears#whoopi#goldberg#cardcaptor#sakura#moon#dream eater#star#darlings#disney#wanda#sykes#miyazaki
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I’m so happy that there are people interacting with me :>
@teufortgothic and @zebirdgod taged me so here it is
Rules: Tag 10 of your followers you wanna know better
Nicknames: Jo or Jojo
Height: 160 cm
Time right now: 8:10 pm
Last thing I googled: A guide for fusions for yu gi oh forbidden memories
Fave music artist: Mostly j-rock bands like Malice Mizer, the GazettE, Kiryu, Golden Bomber and Gossip
Song stuck in my head: Saturday Night Gay Bar - Sendai Kamotsu
Last movie I watched: I can’t remember at all... I think it was The Witch (2015)
Last TV show I watched: A Brazilian show about home decor (don’t know the name)
What I’m wearing now: It’s summer here and it fells like hell. I’m wearing nothing and still dying from the heat
When I created this blog: 5 years ago (I think)
The kind of stuff I post: Cute stuff, fashion references, lolita fashion and some other stuff I like (like TF2, anime and some bands)
Do I have other blogs: Yes. One to save references for dressmaking
Do I get asks regularly: Nope.
Why did I choose my URL: I like to wear cute clothes and pastel colors but my face looks like i’m always angry. One day a friend of mine called me ‘pink demon’ and I liked it.
Hogwarts House: Slytherin
Pokemon team: Instinct
Fave colors: Pastel pink, pastel blue, lavander, black, red and neon green.
Average hours of sleep: 4 -12
Lucky number: I don’t have one
Favorite characters: Jotaro, Mista, Gyro and Johnny (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure); Ichimatsu (Osomatsu-san); Medic, Sniper and Scout [ ++++Medic] (TF2);
Dream job: It was plastic surgeon but I could not get into a medical school so I went into a fashion design school instead. (I can’t sew stitches on people's faces but I can sew beautiful dresses). Now I want to have my own brand.
Number of blankets I sleep with: None in summer , 1 - 3 in winter
Following: If it’s how many blogs I follow 545
Who I tag: I wanted to tag you two but you already did that. So I ‘tag’ anyone who want to do this. ~<3 (and I don’t have this much followers to tag)
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Yesterday mom and I went on a little trip to get at least most of the bits and bobs we need to finish all of our con outfits, and while looking for the fabric to make my tiefling tail out of I made the mistake of passing by the remnants bin and welp
2 1/2 yards is enough to make me a very swooshy skirt and I am weak of will ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I will at least try to put it off until I finish the stuff with the actual deadline, but we all know how good I am at sticking to plans, so we'll see how that goes. XD
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The Eternal Hemming is done! 🙌 (just don't look at the inside XD)
Now I just gotta put a hook and eye closure above the zipper and I will have a skirt. Tomorrow tho, my fingers still hurt from putting the zipper on. >_>
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I'm gonna finish this tomorrow because it is Late and I am sleepy, but there is. So much skirt in this skirt. It's a little ridiculous. XD
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