History Has It's Eyes On Us ~ Gendrya

8

I want to trust him. But, it's not that simple. If I let him in, it'll be harder to let him go. I know it's not honourable. But, even you fathered a bastard. Lord Beylish challenged your brother, a man much more skilled than him, knowing he stood no chance, for mother's hand. Robb broke his oath to Walder Frey, knowing it could cost him the war and maybe even his life. Sansa would fight to stay beside Jeoffrey. Lady Lianna fell victim to this wrecklessness. It comes when you give someone your unconditional trust and I don't know if I have the will to give it to someone again. Give me strength, Father. Guide me. I can't make his decision alone.

She had never been a worshiper of gods. She rarely prayed. Not in the eyes of the seven and not in any godswood. If she had a problem, she would seek her father's council. It had never led her astray. But, he was dead. And every now and then, she would light a candle and ask the God of death to allow her father to hear her voice, in return for the lives she had given him.

The sound of the leaves, stiff from the frost, and sticks crunching beneath her feet brought bumps to her skin and a chill down her spine. She could see her breath in front of her as she weaved through the trees. The sunlight peaked through, making the raindrops fom the previous evening's downpour sparkle on the dark green leaves. The intensity of it's brightness hurt her eyes a little and the smell of damp greenery filled her nose. On the floor, wildflowers were scattered, starting to bloom. It was the first few weeks of spring, from what she could tell. Maester Lewin had tought her to tell the changing of the seasons, though she never understood why. It had seemed an awful waste of time, but now served as a reminder of the innocence that once was.

I know I don't act with honour. People tell me you'd be proud but I don't think that's so. I remember mother shouting at me for ruining my skirts and me cuddling up to her by the fire. "The gods have sent us a storm, child" she would say, soft, "so the soil is damp enough for our crops to grow and the seas are wild enough to protect us from bravosi magic. So that the streets are washed of disease and so the stars can shine as bright as the sun"  I remember clinging to Robb when Old Nan would tell us stories and Rickon clinging onto me. I remember Jon teaching me to ride in the sun and climbing trees with Bran. I remember you, standing there that day when I was shooting arrows. It was wrong, we both knew it, but, you smiled and so, I knew it was okay.

She found herself speaking more for comfort now, rather than guidance. Since seeing what everyone had become, she had never missed her family more. She wished more than anything to see everyone again, the way they were. But, she had nothing left from those days. Just Gendry.

Perhaps she should trust him.

The wind blew around her the second she thought it, and somehow she thought it was a sign. She thought it again, and this time the wind was slightly stronger.

"I should trust him," she said quietly, and the wind blew so hard, it nearly knocked her off her feet. It spiralled around her, blowing her hair above her head as she grinned, closing her eyes. This was the closest she had been to any of them in a long time. She hoped it was father, and she told herself that it had to be him over and over again until, eventually, she believed it.

The wind came to a hault, knocking her off balance. When she turned around, she saw a stag, stood true and proud with antlers that almlst resembled a crown. Most would buckle under the intense stare of the creature, but she felt safe, somehow. It approached her with eyes of bright purple pigment. Arya instinctivley heald out her hand, and when she did it let it's nose rest of her wrist, white light surrounded it, leaving a silver mark she didn't recognise. It shimmered in the sun and caused her no pain, for which she was thankful. She had no room left for more of that. It itched, but she knew it was nothing to fear.

"Father?" She whispered, but the creatre walked away and ran intk the forest, "wait!" She shouted but, it ignored her plea.

Suddenly, she awoke to Gendry shaking her intensly.

"What are you doing?" She asked, harshly making him back away.

"You were screaming," he mumbled, looking at her with fear in his eyes. However, Arya assumed it was fear of  her rather than fear for her.

Gendry sat on the floor beside her, not too close nor too far away.

"Dreams" she said. She wasn't going to lie and tell him they were bad. It was the best dream she had since she was a young girl.

"What's that?" He asked, gesturing toward her wrist.

"What?" He took her hand and turned it to reveal her wrist, where the silver mark from her dream was engraved. They both etched in closer, studying it. He traced over it with his finger gently. They looked at eachother, realising they were awfully close. Niether pulled away until eventually, Gendry snapped out of their mutual trance and let go, backing away from her slightly. She had to shake herself a little bit to escape from what just overcme them, "does it hurt?" He asked, gently.

"No. It just itches," she went to rub it and a searing pain shot up her arm, causing her to whince.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Gendry spluttered with wide eyes.

"Fine," she shrugged, "it just burns to touch,"

After a few seconds of shared silence, he slowly reached out for her hand and turned it again. He traced his finger again, and Arya felt nothing but a warm, loving sensation rush from her forearm all across her back, from shoulder to shoulder. She closed her eyes for a second, savouring the feeling.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, carefully.

She shook her head, "it feels great,"

"Maybe you have a thorn or something stuck in it? Or maybe you were bitten by a spider?"

"No. This came to me in my dream," Gendry stayed quiet so she could continue, but she didn't. Regardless, Gendry examined the mark protectivley. Arya tried touching it again, and had the same burst of pain.

"Could it be something to do with Bravos?"

"I've never seen anything like this. This was something else,"

She quite liked the look of her mark, it was like a pearl in ever way but it's shape. She couldn't decide what it lolked like, for every time she tried she changed her mind.

"It looks like a compass," Gendry observed, and Arya had to agree. It looked like a compass pointing West, directly at Gendry. It scared her.

"We should start moving. The Frey's holdfast is a long way off yet," She sood and, for a moment or two, Gendry sat. It bothered him that she didn't trust him anymore, but that was nobody's fault but his own.