"Hey, Stark," he called out, walking up to where she stood leaning against the wall. At first it just looked like she was leaning awkwardly against the cinder block wall, face grimacing for no reason, but when he got closer he could see she was using a lacrosse ball to roll out her left shoulder. She had finished watching the rest of her session compete, and afterwards he followed her around to the other side of tall black curtain dividing the competition area from the warm-up area. She'd shrugged out of the shoulders of her grey competition singlet and the straps hung around her thighs, leaving her only in her sports bra from the waist up. It was all he could do to not stare. "Good job on your snatches earlier. Was that last one a competition PR?"
"Yep. Regular PR too," she replied, still mostly focused on her shoulder. "90 kilos."
"Holy crap, that's awesome." She smiled just a bit at that, and Gendry felt better knowing she was at least listening to him. "I'm hoping to PR today too but I'm not sure it'll happen." He was fishing compliments and he knew it.
"Well, I'd say good luck, but since you're my rival and all…"
"I'm your what?"
"You're my rival."
"There's no way I'm your rival."
"How come?" she asked. He wasn't sure if she was actually offended at his assertion or not.
Is she joking right now? "I'm a guy, for starters, and I compete in a weight class that's like, 30 kilos above yours."
"You keep tellin' yourself that, Waters," she replied. She stood up from the wall, tossing and catching the lacrosse ball back and forth between her hands a couple of times, and then looked up at the large digital clock on the wall. "Sorry to cut this short, but I've gotta get in my warm up before the clean and jerks start."
She watched him later on that day, after lunch when the men competed. She'd lost it on her last jerk, a 100 kilo attempt that ended with her not quite getting under the bar quick enough. Thank the gods for my shoulder mobility. It was a lift she'd made before, but something felt off today. Nothing 'off' today for Gendry though, she thought. Six for six. Clean and jerk PR, five kilos heavier on his snatch than at last month's meet. He was good, she knew that. She'd seen him at almost every meet since she started competing. He recovered well, had impeccable form, never pulled too soon, and got under the bar so quickly you could blink and miss it. Friendly, too. Every time they ran into each other he would come over and chat with Arya – compliment her lifts that day, ask about her training, and almost always try to steal some snacks from her backpack. Today, he even had a group from his gym there loudly cheering for him after each successful lift, not too surprising since this meet was just outside of Storms End, where she knew he trained. Much different than her when she watched him: sweatpants on, sitting on the ground eating peanut butter directly out of the jar with a soup spoon, muttering whispers of "come on, come on" and "weight in your heels, elbows up, you've got this" under her breath so no one could hear her rooting for him.
He was good, and she could be better. We're definitely rivals, whether he likes it or not.
XxXxX
Two weeks later.
Once Arya returned home to Winterfell from the competition in Storms End, she had a day or two off and then it was straight back into training mode. It was only three months until her next competition, one which would contain what might become the most important six lifts of her life up until that point. Maybe forever, she thought for a moment, and then shook her head to get those thoughts out, trying not to psych herself out. This meet would determine who would make it to the Westerosi National Team for the next world-wide competition the following summer.
Her father owned the facility she trained at, Stark Strength & Conditioning, which was referred to simply as SSC by almost all the members and the town locals. Ned Stark had made a name for himself in the weightlifting world when he was younger, and so had his father before him. Her oldest brother Robb had played the part of the golden child for a while, when she was too young to compete and he was in the juniors division, with magazines and reports planting the notion that Robb Stark would be the next to carry on his family's legacy… until the car crash and the back injury and the beautiful nurse, and then suddenly it wasn't worth it anymore. Jon's interest in the sport didn't go farther than just using training as part of an exercise regimen, and Sansa… well, that was definitely not happening.
Not much pressure at all, right?
She was working along with a mobility webcast that morning, trying to get that in before the coach showed up at eight. She'd worked with Syrio Forel for the past year or so, and he was nothing if not prompt each and every morning they had scheduled.
This morning he arrived at the same time as always, like clockwork, but, instead of writing out extra training notes for the day or other changes on the whiteboard, he called out to the rest of the athletes to meet him in the so-called lounge area, really just where they kept the boxes for box jumps.
"Alright," he began, clapping his hands together to make sure he had everyone's attention, "before we start our day, I have an announcement to make. I was approached a number of weeks ago by the management for the Braavosi national team. They're beginning their training for the world games and would like a trainer from Braavos. I've already spoken with Mr. Stark and he has accepted my decision to move on. Now, there's no way I would leave you without a coach so close to Nationals, especially with some of you on track to make the team this year. I have hand-selected a new coach, who starting Friday morning, personally recommended by a close friend and –"
That was all Arya bothered to hear. She stood up from the box she was sitting on and stomped off, knowing full well that she shouldn't have acted like that, running out like a child, and knowing that she'd get a talking-to from Syrio later that day and probably from her father once he heard about her reaction. But thinking before acting was still a trait that she'd yet to perfect, so she tried to control her emotions until she was out of the main room, letting out a loud noise in frustration once the door closed behind her.
"A girl is not pleased with the way things go."
Really, Jaqen? Now is not the time. She turned around to see her friend at the water cooler on the other side of the room, red-striped hair pushed back with a wide black headband, shirtless with a pair of Lululemon yoga pants on that were so tight Arya thanked the gods that there were no kids' classes held this early in the morning. Nothing I've never seen before though, she thought to herself, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to emerge on her face.
"A girl will chuck a kettlebell at your head when you're not looking if you don't stop bothering me," she replied. "Also, trying talking normally. I know you know how."
He smiled and suddenly changed his tone, almost like he hadn't realized he was speaking with weird grammar or an accent. "Sorry, I just got done with another early AM Lorathi yoga session. You know how it gets, everything is "a man this, a woman that.' Come on, let's go get you calmed down."
She nodded and started to walk further to the back of the gym, Jaqen following just behind, his footfalls quiet where hers are loudly stomping, even without really trying. She sat down on a long bench, leaning back against the wall and he joined her, silently sitting next to her so their shoulders are just touching, then took a hold of her right hand. Arya knew there was nothing more behind the action, at least, not when he's doing it in a comforting way like he was now, and didn't bother to rebuff him. She would if it had been anyone else.
"I know what you're thinking," she said, though he doesn't answer. "You're thinking that I'm 22 godsdamned years old and I just stomped out of there like a five year old that just learned the tooth fairy isn't real."
He didn't say a thing, but Arya knew he was listening; this was just how they did things. He somehow managed to calm her down when she got upset. She'd complain, he'd listen, and when she was done she felt clear-headed, more than ready to go back out there and face whatever it was that had bothered her in the first place. She sat with him for a few moments, five minutes maybe, and he remained quiet, letting her vent the way she needed to.
He only spoke when he heard some weights dropping and movement beginning again in the gym. "Feeling better?" She nodded. "You'd better get back out there then. You'll really be in it if you miss practice."
"Yea, I know." She got up and grabbed her notebook, lifting shoes, belt, and knee sleeves out of her cubby.
"Hey, Arya?" Jaqen started. He'd stood up, calling out to her when she was almost out the door. "You can make it to the Nationals team, no matter who's coaching you. Remember that."
"Thanks, Jaqen," she said, holding up the door with her backside since her arms will full. "We still on for dinner tonight?"
"Of course. Now get out there and show Syrio who doesn't need him to make it big."
Syrio gave her a disapproving look when she emerged from the back room, as she crossed the gym to look at the whiteboards and make some notes in her journal. For her, there were snatches today, pulls and balances, a complex of power snatches and hang snatches, then front squats and some extra accessory work. Normally, Arya split her day between heavy lifting in the morning and accessory work in the late afternoon, usually working a shift at Indigo Star Coffee & Tea in the middle, mainly to occupy herself with something else and get her out of the gym for a few hours a day. Still a little bit upset, she ignored Syrio's looks as she put in her wireless headphones, turning up the music on her phone and then setting it on the window ledge. Ya know, Jaqen is right, she thought. All the groundwork is laid for this already. I've got my sights set pretty high, and this should too if he knows what's good for him… whoever he is.
Notes
So, this little AU came into my head and I couldn't shake it. Arya here is slightly based on Mattie Rogers, a US olympic weightlifting badass, who you should look up if you don't know who she is. Really. The weights I mention for Arya are all feasible for a lifter in her weight class who is on track to make a national team.
And just a little bit of real notes... she's competing in Olympic weightlifting, which only has two lifts, snatch (lol) and clean & jerk (C&J). You get three attempts at each, and your score is the combination of the highest of each lift. The title is the term for completing all six lifts. "PR" is your personal record, and most athletes track their training records as well as what they do in competition.
Lifts mentioned:
Snatch: floor to overhead in one motion, using a wide grip
C&J: floor to shoulders (clean), then shoulders to overhead (jerk), with shoulder-width grip
Snatch pull: used to train the first pull of the lift
Snatch balance: develops the receiving position of the lift (bar overhead)
I think that's everything now, but just comment if something doesn't make sense.
