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Arya has been down to where the molten, fiery-red steel casts into swords. It's hotter than the seventh circle of hell.
That's why she sees Gendry by the outer passage connecting the smithy. His bare, hardened chest dirtied with ash. A familiar sight. Arya remembers it vaguely when she was far younger, at Harrenhal. He had only been several name-days older.
Gendry takes a deep breath of fresh, cold air, looking up at the morning clouds idly and stretching his arms.
Two of the seamstress girls linger in the kitchen's entry, giggling. The one with honey-yellow curls stares infatuated at Gendry like Arya used to stare when he wasn't paying attention to her. She rolls her eyes, sighing and unfolding her arms. Fortunately for her, the heavy, thick snow packs nicely into a ball against Arya's gloved hands.
Using his obliviousness as a tactical advantage, Arya flings the snow-ball, hitting Gendry against his collar-bone. She grins at him when Gendry yells "oi!" and races towards her, grabbing a handful of snow clumsily. He smiles like a delighted, young boy.
Arya has forgotten all about the girls huffing and disappearing, shouting out Gendry's name.
Ice-crusted snow glitters in Arya's dark hair.
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GoT isn't mine. Requested by rainydawn (AO3): "Gendrya; Jealous!Arya and Oblivious!Gendry." Ohhhhhh. I liked it. I did. WE ARE ON A GENDRYA KICK. MY HEART. Please enjoy and any comments welcomed!
((Want a request for GoT? I'm doing 100-500 word drabbles of any ship + any prompt until S8 ends. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a ship and prompt, as well if you want NSFW or SFW. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))