Rulebreaker (To Temper Steel Chp 2)

[nrgburst]

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)
Characters: Arya Stark/Gendry Baratheon, Old Min (OC)
Rating/Warnings: M (sex, language)
Word Count: 1735
Summary: Because the rules are wrong.

Also on Ao3 here and FFN here

Old Min has kept the castle of Storm’s End for as long as she can remember, like her mother and her mother’s mother before that. She knows how to set aright damp and salt and the messes her little lords make.

She’d not expected to see a day when all the little lords she’d raised would fall, when the great house she served would be scoured from these old stones as if no more than saltscale under vinegar. Soldiers wearing Baratheon colors but doing Lannister bidding had ridden in from Kings Landing. And she’d wept as she'd cleaned the blood from the stones, not understanding why they’d come so far to kill Robert's bastards, mere lowborn children.

Not understood until the new Lord Baratheon arrives with Ser Davos to vouch for his bloodline and bravery at the Battle of Winterfell.

“I as much as raised Robert and Renly myself. I can see clear as day who his father was,” Old Min had stated proudly, eyes wet with happy tears. That one of Robert’s blood had managed to escape Cersei’s claws was surely The Father’s justice.

Lord Gendry might resemble his father in looks and prowess with a warhammer, but he’s obviously not used to having more than he needs. He’s more like Staid Stannis in that way, earnest and dutiful despite his unfamiliarity with his responsibilities and fortunes, working out his frustrations hammering steel in the forge instead of indulging in excess the way she’s used to Baratheon Lords doing.

It perplexes her a little to see how far the apple fell from the tree until another wild Lady Stark comes to Storm’s End

 

And just like Robert for that Lyanna, Gendry obviously adores this Arya despite- or perhaps because- of her preference for armor and arrows over pretty dresses and jewels.

It does warm her heart to see the two of them bickering affectionately- the previous Lady Stark had gone from awkward formality to coldly disdainful when she’d realized how many conquests Robert had made in the village and castle.

It’s also a surprise to see that Lord Gendry is actually as passionate and quick to rouse as his father. Arya Stark of Winterfell is no serving girl or milkmaid though, and she’s chosen to visit Storm’s End without chaperone or retinue, caring little for the impropriety of having the whole castle witness her pulling the lord into his chambers time and again, nonetheless that the guest chamber she was supposed to use has remained untouched; her dirty clothing left strewn on the floor by his bed instead.

Any lady with sense about future marriage prospects would know to at least make a pretense of chastity. Old Min supposes it's what comes from losing her parents and brothers so young, and running wild about the world, if the stories are to be believed. Still, it’s not her place to say anything. And the young lord is obviously so smitten that he will probably offer for her anyway when she falls pregnant.

After all, House Baratheon needs heirs. And she hopes it won’t be long until she's dandling another little lord on her knee, one with such grand relations as the King of Westeros and the Queen of the North, though she wishes this lady wasn't sharp as a knife and bold as brass.

---

 

Arya wakes to the sound of the wind howling and rain pounding against the shutters and smiles.

On the open ocean, storms were often the only source of fresh water, the chance to fill their barrels and survive another week.

Here they mean Gendry won’t have any petitioners, and that means she can finally keep him with her all morning.

She rolls over and slides a hand down his body as she nuzzles against his shoulder, inhaling the smell of his skin and smiling smugly when she finds him already half erect. She’s as familiar with his body as her own now, and it seems like the more they make love, the better they get at it.

Which pleases her immensely: it’s like any physical skill really, building stamina and muscle memory and learning each other’s preferences and response times in a dance that feels as instinctive as breathing.

His eyes crack open and he smiles, pulling her close, and the intensity of what she feels when he murmurs her name scares her for only a moment before she kisses him.

Valar Morgulis may be how she survived, but this feels far, far sweeter.

 

---

She relaxes, basking in euphoric repletion after, but her eyes snap open again when instead of cuddling next to her, Gendry presses a kiss to her forehead and rolls away, reaching for his clothing.

“Why get up so soon? You won’t have petitions today. And we could have more sex if you stay,” she points out.

Gendry chuckles and leans back over to kiss her again. “Tempting. But the storm means I can get down to the forge instead. And I’ve been thinking: that sand has got to be ore if your brother sent it to me. And if it's special enough to bring back across your Sunset Sea, I really want to know what kind of metal it turns into.”

That catches her interest. “You still do your own smithing?"

He gives her a grin over his shoulder as he pulls on his pants.

“Mostly woodsaws, shovels and fishhooks now, but yeah, why not? A lord provides what his people need, and I was pretty good at it before I got made into a lord.”

She has to smile. “Stop being modest. We would have lost Winterfell in the first hour if your dragonglass blades hadn’t cut through those wights like they were paper.”

He shrugs and tilts his head good-naturedly, but she can tell that pleases him. Curiosity piqued, she asks casually, “You like this forge better than Winterfell’s?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I mean that was a proper castle forge, but this one burns even hotter- supposed to be spells cast on the walls of this castle, and I think they did the forge too.” He gives her a teasing look. “Plus I’m not freezing my balls off while I’m working.”

“Soft little Southern boy.”

“Nasty, naughty Northern girl.”

She purses her lips and shrugs before nodding in agreement, and he laughs before getting distracted.

“What are you doing?”

She smiles innocently. “With my hand? Just here?” She lets her legs fall open to give him a better view. “Being nasty and naughty and northern, I suppose.”

She smiles wider when his response is to take his pants off again.

Turns out she was wrong about the “soft” part.

---

They’re breaking their fast when Maester Darren arrives.

“Pardon me and good morning, my lord, my lady. We received some ravens after you’d retired for the evening. One of these is for you from Lannisport, my lady,” he says, handing over the small rolls of parchment. “I’ll be in my chambers if you’d like to submit any replies, but sending will have to wait until the storm has passed."

Gendry looks up from his own messages in surprise, but Arya simply studies the seal before cracking it with her thumbnail with practiced ease.

“Who else knows you’re here?"

“Sent a raven to my first mate before I left King’s Landing. Nymeria needed repairs, so we berthed in Lannisport,” she replies absently, reading.

Gendry exhales heavily and lowers his voice. “…I thought... I was your first? In Winterfell."

Arya looks up and gives him an amused smile. “First mate means second in command on a ship. Not like us.”

The housekeeper huffs, obviously scandalized by the conversation she was eavesdropping on, and Arya rolls her eyes when she mutters something about the kitchens and hustles from the room.

“Arya.”

She scoffs. “So what if we're fucking? You're not married, I'm not married, and we're not related. I don't see why anybody cares since we're not hurting anybody or breaking any laws."

“You don’t need to give her such a hard time about it. She's old, she probably has... traditional ideas.”

Arya snorts. “Only for ladies, I bet. I bet you could have half the serving girls in the castle, and she’d not even blink."

Gendry exhales again, flustered, and looks away.

“See. You fucked at least one that she knew about and I bet she was sweet as always, fussing over your porridge and airing your bed without complaint.”

He gapes at her. “How do you just know stuff like that?”

She lifts a brow and tilts her head at him. “You’re terrible at the game of faces.” But then she softens. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

He tries to explain. “…I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”

“Neither did I. I really don’t mind. I wanted you to. I thought you'd meet somebody nice and really fall in love and forget all about me."

“Are you serious? We spent how many years traveling together and then… that night and then... you killed the Night King and you thought I’d somehow forget about you?”

She looks at him hesitantly, wishing his words didn’t get her so emotional. “Being with a Stark tends to get people killed. You were so good to me as a girl, and… good for me that night. So I tried to forget you too, tried other people, because I thought you deserved better. Someone whole, not half Noone, with one foot in the grave. As Lord of Storm’s End, you should have had your pick. …I can’t even explain how it felt when Bran told me you were still alone.”

Gendry studies her face, then looks away. “I didn't want to be. But it’s not the same, just fucking without…"

“…all the feelings. I know. I mean, I figured I would find somebody else I’d have feelings for, maybe in a few years. ...But I'm really glad Bran told me.”

Gendry frowns in sudden realization. “You think he knows we...”

Arya’s thoughtful for a long moment. “He asked me to look for two things on the other side: sand that smells like blood. And Silphium. Both led me here.”

Gendry frowns. “What’s Silphium?"

Arya lifts her cup and savors a long sip before she looks him in the eye and smiles.

“Freedom.”