Sorcha's smile was brighter than he had ever seen. Gripping the edges of her dress, she gave a joyful twirl for him. His heart squeezed and stretched as if she had somehow reached inside his chest and molded it like clay. She was a vision before him, a siren who ensnared his every waking thought long after her song faded to silence.
Her beauty would never cease to amaze him. It was an incomparable sight, so singular that it never failed to kick his pulse into a gallop. Gendry was sure he looked like a fool gaping at her, but Nour had turned a goddess of the sea into a queen amongst women. He thought he should be used to her enchantments by now but somehow knew he never would be.
Sorcha swirled her skirts and draped her hair over one shoulder with a sweep of her hand. The halo of wild coiling curls was now sleek and long, wound into an abundance of complex dark braids. It took the entirety of Gendry's absence to wrangle her hair into what Nour explained was a popular fashion amongst the dark-skinned women of Kings Landing. Woven into her hair were glistening white beads, like spots of starlight in a midnight sky.
Her gown- which he may have overlooked on any other woman, for it was nothing special -- he thought, was the finest thing he had ever seen. It was lightweight linen, as most southern clothes tended to be. Its color stood in contrast to the warmth of her skin in a cool grey. The bodice hugged her tight with a pleated panel of white across her breast. This time, her ankles hid behind a full skirt length, her feet strapped into a pair of light sandals.
"You look like a proper lady now, don't you." Gendry thought his voice sounded suspiciously hoarse. Sorcha, of course, did not notice, too enthralled by her appearance in the full-length mirror. Nour, on the other hand, snorted quietly in amusement.
"I know! Isn't it wonderful?" She sighed, running her fingers along the length of her braids for the thousandth time. When she caught Nour's chiding look in the mirror, she stopped short and firmly clasped her hands at her waist. "Nour is truly talented." Indeed, it had taken hours to execute the hairdo, even with the help of another woman, Talia's nimble fingers. If Sorcha was entirely honest, her scalp and neck ached now, though it was worth it.
"She'll be turning every head in the city." Nour looked Gendry up and down with an unnervingly piercing gaze. He wanted to throw a blanket over his head like a child hiding from embarrassment. Instead, he forced his wandering eyes to pick a spot at the center of Sorcha's back and stick to it. His wandering mind, however, was not so easily fooled.
"Not quite the desired effect. What, with being on the run and all." He deflected, his brows furrowing as he realized just how much more eye-catching Sorcha would be now. Every man in Flea Bottom would trade his right hand for a chance at her, likely more than that. Nour threw her arms up with an exasperated sigh.
"What was I to do? She could be wearing a potato sack, and she'd still be the most beautiful woman to walk these streets." Sorcha only proved her point with the radiance of her smile. "Prettier than the Stark girl, even." Gendry's neck nearly cracked as his attention shot to Nour. She didn't seem to think much of the comment as she admired her work.
"Stark girl?" He tried to sound only mildly intrigued, but his eyes held a fervency incompatible with an offhanded inquiry.
"Lady Sansa Stark," Nour didn't miss his perked ears and widened eyes. She noticed even the smallest of expressions that flit across the faces of those around her. It was a skill honed over years of pleasing every man to walk through her doors. "Well, Lannister now, I suppose." She watched Gendry from the corner of her eye as his expression soured with displeasure and uncertainty.
"She's still here? She's married to Joffrey?" He couldn't quite make it all fit together. If the King was to be married in the coming weeks, it would surely be to his betrothed? Sansa Stark would still be a Stark by name. He would admit he was far behind on events with his extended absence from society.
"Who is this, Sansa?" Sorcha turned from the mirror to look between them in interest and earned a sidelong glance from Nour. Neither answered her question.
"I wouldn't say alright, but she is alive. King Joffrey passed her up for the Tyrell girl, Margaery." Nour turned to pour two goblets of wine and one of water for Sorcha, who'd vehemently expressed her loathing of the red liquid earlier. "He decided the daughter of a traitor was unfit to be his wife. I'm not sure Renly's sloppy seconds are much better, though. Forced Sansa to marry the imp of all people." She handed them each a goblet, Gendry didn't register the cup until a moment after, and he set it aside without taking a sip.
"The imp? To Sansa?" His brows shot to his hairline. He'd never met either of them, never even seen them. Arya was always very descriptive in her stories, and The Imp was never even considered a proper husband for the eldest Stark daughter. Nour nodded absently, plopping down in a lounge and draping herself over the arm.
"You sound like you know her. Been consorting with Ladies along the way?" There was a hint of amusement in her tone, but Gendry felt his face drain of all its color. She had no clue how close she'd come to the truth.
"I know her by reputation." It wasn't a lie. He'd only ever heard of Sansa Stark's beauty and grace. Arya wouldn't shut up about how irritating her perfect elder sister was. He also knew that while Sansa Stark was stranded in Kings Landing, her brothers remained in Winterfell. It was the very place Arya had headed, to begin with. Last he'd heard, Robb Stark had taken up his sword against the King. They'd been so close to his army when he and Arya separated. "Why hasn't her brother made a trade by now?" Nour frowned, her face scrunching like he'd said something absurd.
"You don't know?" She looked honestly surprised-- an expression with which Nour was not well accustomed.
"Know what?" Gendry looked between Nour and Sorcha, who watched with unbridled intrigue. She'd abandoned her reflection and now listened intently, trying her best to piece together the context of the conversation and failing miserably.
"The Starks are gone. The war is over." Nour said it like it was something he should've already known.
"They surrendered?"
"Far from it. The story gets wilder every day. It happened months ago, and it's still the talk of Westeros. Can't go a day without hearing bout it. Exhausting, really." She took a greedy sip of wine. Nour was tired of hearing the wild tales of the Red Wedding from the mouths of her patrons. She knew the truth from the Lannister soldiers who paid for her company. Sometimes they liked to relive the moment they killed the Queen in The North. Only this time, they had a little fun with her before her blood ran cold. Nour screamed and fought at their request as they took her like they would have that poor woman. It was a mercy that she bled out before they could touch her. Men liked to mix murder and pleasure, fucking and killing anything they wished without consequence.
"Nour," Gendry stepped forward, his face stony. A flicker of dread shot through his striking blue eyes. "What happened?" His voice was scarcely more than a whisper. Gendry was petrified, and Nour couldn't understand why. She chose her words wisely, the truth, nothing more.
"Robb Stark made an enemy of Walder Frey, and he decided to switch sides. He promised a wedding and delivered a bloodbath. Locked them in and slaughtered them all at once. Lady Stark was with child, I hear. They put the King in the North's head on a spike and his dire wolf along with him. The only Stark left is Lady Sansa."
"Arya -- Lady Arya Stark -- was she there?" The urgency and desperation caught both women off guard. Sorcha stepped towards him, her arm outstretched to comfort. His lips were terse, his nostrils flaring with barely contained emotion.
"I haven't heard a thing about Arya Stark since her father was thrown in the cells. Safe to assume she's been dead for ages." Nour studied him closely, every line of his face, the curled fist, his coiled muscles.
"When did it happen?" He whispered, his throat burning with the growing coil of thorns lodged within.
"Three months ago tomorrow. You alright? You look like you might be sick." Gendry thought he very well might be. Right there on the floor of a brothel. Three months. How long had it been since he left Arya? It had to be at least that long. The Brotherhood would've protected her, right? Then again, they proved how much their honor meant when they sold him like cattle. They were supposed to bring her to the Stark army. It was close, they said. She would have reached them not long after Gendry was taken. Arya was supposed to reunite with her family, meant to be a lady, happy, married to some lord, and be cared for. He somehow knew that Arya did make it to her brother. She would have been there when they slaughtered every man and woman without honor. His friend was dead.
"Oh, gods." Gendry sank into a chair with a look that was so haunting Nour was startled out of her seat. Sorcha picked up her skirt and hurried to his side. She dropped to her knees in a very unladylike manner and looked up at him from the edge of his knees.
"Gendry," Sorcha reached up and took his face between her hands, her thumb brushing a tender trail along his cheek. Her voice was so gentle and soothing that it shot a pang of grief through him again as if she'd twisted the blade lodged in his heart. His eyes watered, glistening in the dying daylight. He leaned into her touch, letting the warmth of her soft hands distract him from the grief tearing him apart. "Gendry, look at me. What is going on? Who is Arya?" Sorcha's brows furrowed in determination and worry as she searched his face for an answer. Nour hovered over her shoulder hesitantly.
"Arya Stark was my friend." He finally said, his cerulean eyes finding Sorcha's with a tired emptiness that she couldn't place with the man she knew. His gaze then turned to look over her shoulder at Nour. "I wasn't the only person escaping with the Night's Watch. Arya, Lady Arya, was posing as a boy to get back North to her family. Cut her hair and everything. It was pretty convincing, but I saw through it. I was the only one who knew the truth." Gendry took a shuddering breath. "A few weeks in the Gold Cloaks caught up to us. They were looking for me and would've killed me if she hadn't convinced them that Gendry Waters was already dead. After that, we stuck together, traveled through the river lands, and dodged Gold Cloaks. When we separated, she was only a week from the Stark camp. She would've been there when--" He couldn't bring himself to say it. Sorcha dropped her hands from his face to clasp them tightly to his.
"So, she didn't die. At least, not right away," Nour muttered in awe. No one spoke for a moment, and Nour took this time to retrieve Gendry's discarded goblet. He took it gratefully and downed its entirety in one go. He ran a hand down his face and avoided Sorcha's concerned gaze tracking him from the floor.
"We have to help Sansa. There has to be something we can do." He announced a new determination in his voice. Nour looked him up and down thoughtfully.
"As much as you might like to be her knight in shining armor, the safest place for her now is with Lord Tyrion." Nour took the goblet from him and went to refresh it. Sorcha stood hesitantly, slipping her hand off Gendry's thigh but sticking close enough to provide some semblance of comfort. "He's a good man, though he has his vices. Drinks enough wine to get an elephant drunk and fucks like a rabbit. But there's never a bad word said about him by my girls, which is almost unheard of. Men like to treat their whores like they treat their dogs. Since his betrothal, Lord Tyrion hasn't paid a visit to my brothel, nor called for our services once. I do believe he will take care of that girl." Nour presented him with the goblet again, this time filled with crystal clear water instead of blood-red wine.
"Thank you."
"Sansa is a sweet girl. Many take that as weakness, but she has a mind sharper than a blade. It's the only reason she's survived this long. She learned how to play the game." Gendry looked at his friend with a fresh wave of questions at the tip of his tongue.
"You know her?" He sat forward in his seat as Nour perched herself on the arm of an adjacent armchair.
"My Lord has taken an... interest in her wellbeing." She picked her words carefully, each one perfectly articulate. "I do accompany him to The Red keep on occasion." Nour dipped her chin in earnest, locking eyes with him. "She will be alright, Gendry. She is not your burden to bear." He processed her words slowly, a part of him wishing to be the knight that saved the Lady from the clutches of evil. That was not reality. A blacksmith was nothing near a night in shining armor.
"Alright," He nodded, though he wasn't sure his heart was convinced.
"It's best you don't return for a few days. I don't want anyone asking questions about you." Nour glanced toward the window, the golden hue fading to gray as the sun dipped beneath the buildings and took daylight with it. "I assume you will be staying at the forge?" Gendry took a long swig of water, then straightened. He could sense the change in Nour, a hint of unease in her demeanor. She wished for their visit to come to a close.
"Yes, Mott will house us. I'll be back soon, I promise." Gendry stood, running a hand through his too-long hair and regaining his composure. He reached out, and Sorcha took his hand in hers.
"Thank you, Nour." Sorcha smiled as Gendry pulled open the door, and the chorus of sex and pleasure leaked into the room. "For everything you've done for us today."
"You do not need to thank me. It was a pleasure to be in your company." Sorcha smiled, and they said their goodbyes. Nour waited until they were out of sight before shutting the door and setting the lock.
She stood for a moment, her fingers resting idly on the door handle, her breath slow and deep. A part of her cried to fling it open again and flee into the night with the boy she loved like her own blood. A part of her remembered what it was like to sit beside him and be surrounded by the scent of orange blossoms and hot dirt. But the woman Nour had become knew better than to let those desires take hold. There was a reason she was still alive and in such a prestigious position. Nour smoothed the bodice of her dress and set her shoulders, squashing the spark of familiarity and sentimentality beneath her heel. It did not do to dwell in the past. Those who lived in the past often didn't live long enough to see their futures.
The hem of golden thread brushed against dark-stained wood as she crossed the distance to her desk. There was little that sat atop it for prying eyes to discover. But Nour's hands went to the drawer. The one with a heavy lock protecting its contents. The key was hers alone and her Lord, of course. The swath of Velvet within was simple enough, but as she set it upon the desk and unraveled its contents, her fingers danced along the smooth surface of a diamond necklace. It was a piece she had dreamed of for her own, but this gift was not for her.
Nour pulled a blank sheet of parchment to the center. With a delicate hand, she dipped a quill in midnight ink and scrawled a few quick sentences, then folded it and pressed the seal of her master into its face. The massive fabric-covered cage rattled as she opened it, and the midnight raven perched itself upon her arm. As Nour tied the letter to its ankle and pulled open the window, she watched as Gendry and Sorcha's silhouettes disappeared down the street.
"The Red Keep." She instructed the bird, and with a great flap of its wings, the raven disappeared into the night.
NOTE
Poor baby Gendry is finally learning what happened while he was gone and he missed a shit ton. This was something I really wanted to write in this fic because it is after all a Gendry fic and I wanted to explore his story in his absent seasons. I needed a Gendry thinking Arya was dead scene and we were robbed! Also, how are we feeling about Nour??? She doing some sketchy shit rn.
Onto other matters, I'm planning Act III in more detail I'm wondering what we're feeling for sexy scenes??? There will very likely be one. The question is, how graphic it's gonna get? I'm going to keep it very sweet and gentle because Sorcha is just beginning to explore herself sexually and also her new appendages lol. But I'd like to know what people think in terms of how much I should write? I'm down for any level and game of thrones is notoriously graphic so if I'm going for cannon level it will be full-on.