For Want of a Better King

The Arrangements

She awoke feeling rested and comfortable. She and her mother were on good terms, and had agreed to meet up later for a leisurely breakfast. Her mother had more little details to see to, and Arya was happy to be left out of it. She was also happy to be back in her old style of clothing, her brother had had a fine pair of trousers and tunic repurposed for her needs. Of course, there was no need to bother with binding her breasts. She quickly got used to the new routine, the relative comfort and freedom. She walked the grounds freely, no real place to be, no pressure to speak with anyone. It was refreshing. She only looked over her shoulder sometimes, and she hardly missed the others. Truth be told, she could almost forget if she tried hard enough. The Brotherhood had left, choosing not to pick sides, despite her best efforts. And her friends were seemingly avoiding her. Even her father hadn't visited. However, she was not alone. Off to the side, Sander was always watching, knowing better than to intrude on her solitude.

She had a routine around the grounds. It felt the war could not touch them here. She had told her brother everything she knew, and he'd been grateful. He even came to her with certain matters to ask her opinion. But some of the pressure was off. They were meant to be together, as a family.

So of course, something had to come along and shatter that. In a few days time, she was meant to marry some Frey. Of course, she flat out refused. And her family had reluctantly come around to her wishes. But they would still have to deal with the fallout if they were to salvage the relationship. She had no idea how they were meant to do that.

"Arya, there you are. We need to have a talk." Her mother ambushes her around the corner. Catelyn looks well put together in a well-made brown and green dress.

"Of course." Though she can't imagine it will be good. Luckily, she no longer feared their disapproval or disappointment. Her only real concern was betrothal.

She would not marry.

So there was no real danger.

"We leave soon to parlay with the Freys. It will be... trying."

"I'm certain of it. But then, I didn't make the deal in the first place." She points out unkindly.

Her mother laughs humorlessly, adjusting her sleeves about her wrists.

"Yes, all the same, we feel your presence might make things more tense." Her mother puts lightly, though her intent is clear.

"I concur." Arya admits readily. It seems a useless point, common knowledge.

"We have decided you should not attend." Her mother states more bluntly.

Arya is stunned for a moment. Not at her mother's suggestion, she had figured the same. But now her mother was agreeing with her, giving her an out.

"Well, yes, but..." Why was she arguing exactly?

Oh yes, because otherwise she would be left out of everything again, forced to stay behind- waiting and worrying.

Her mother offers a pained sigh.

"Arya, please don't argue. This is for the best. I believe you see that."

"What shall I do? Knit scarves and prepare ledgers?" She replies nastily.

"If you like. Or you could prepare correspondence and keep the information channels running. We will need your eyes and ears here."

Bullshit!

But actually, she appreciated the attempt at making her feel needed. What her mother didn't fully realize was- she did need her daughter to win this war.

"And what if something happens?" Arya asks more reasonably.

"That's why we are bringing the young Baratheon smith. He will watch our backs and show Baratheon support. Not to mention, earning a reputation with your brother." Her mother drops casually.

"What?!?"

"It was his request. We believe he will prove useful. Your brother thought it a good way to get to know him."

For fucksakes!

"He asked?" Arya is fully incredulous. Why would he do that? How had he done it?

"Yes. He means to ingratiate himself to us. I can't imagine why he cares to impress us." Her mother smirks sarcastically.

"What does that mean? Baratheon or no, he's a smith as you say. Can he do anything to impress you?" Arya asks in earnest.

"He has impressed us. He went right up to Robb and demanded a place, a chance to prove his worth. His sights are set on you." Her mother relates solemnly.

"He said that?" She's suspicious.

"Why else?"

"And so you're using him. Stringing him along. Why let him serve you if you have no intention of elevating him?"

"Arya, you think so little of us?" Catelyn does not wait for an answer. "We keep our promises. We'll give him a name, as promised. The rest is yet to be seen."

Arya only shakes her head in disapproval. Despite not even asking her what she wanted, she got the distinct impression Gendry was being taken advantage of, on some level.

"What exactly do you need him for?" If her brother had any sense, he'd know Gendry could barely handle a sword and wouldn't be much protection. She didn't think he'd give out a title for forging steel.

"He's a Baratheon. I'm sure he'll prove useful."

Arya is disappointed, though she shouldn't be. This was something Arya herself would have done, had done, in a sense. It was a sound strategy. And at least her mother was being honest with her. She had to appreciate that.

"Of course." She says sarcastically.

"I only meant..." Her mother quickly tries to backtrack, but it's too late.

"You're right, it makes sense. It's heartless, but smart."

"Arya..."

"I'm not angry. You're still my mother. I'm just glad to know you're still as sharp as ever."

"I do believe you got that from me, however."

"I know it." Arya smirks.

Arya checked the forge first, but Gendry was not there. The kitchens held Hot Pie, but he had no idea where Gendry was specifically, only generally. Still, it did her good to see Hot Pie again and know he was well. He didn't know how to speak to her anymore though, it made her so lonely, she moved on rather quickly.

Gendry was in the training yard, focusing so intently on his opponent she thought his eyes might pop out. He was excited, intent, beads of sweat gather by his brows and dripping down the opening of his tunic.

She was reminded of how lovely he was. Not like a girl, not like a lord, it was something else. He was open, earnest, sensitive, keen, loyal, and gorgeous as fuck. Blue blue eyes, dark hair, and arms that could make you feel safe.

He did his best, he took direction well, and he was imposing enough. He was certainly not embarrassing himself, though he wasn't setting himself apart either. She felt a swelling of warmth. She was so glad to have him here, on her side. And she thought it could be a good idea to prove himself to her brother, and more importantly, her mother. For his own sake, for his future.

But she'd realized much in the time between the rejection at the Inn and her confession to her mother. She didn't feel regret. And she didn't miss her old life, her old self.

She had no intention of marrying any lord, even a new one.

Marriage wasn't for her. Just as sitting with her thumb up her ass waiting, wasn't for her.

She'd tell Sander when it was convenient. Once the retinue left, she would make herself truly useful. They could always use more allies, more men, more resources- she'd have to scare some up. It looked like it was back on the road for her.