2. Harrenhal
Gendry wasn't sure when it happened, exactly, but at some point, he and Arry became friends. Every spare minute she had, she spent at the forge, sitting on the ledge and watching him work. Her legs would dangle off the edge as she sat and ate her crusts of bread, piping in every once in a while to critique his sword-making skills or complain about Weese.
He never minded, just learned to tune her out as he did his work. But soon enough, he found himself craving her company, her mindless chatter becoming a reprieve from his otherwise dreary day, constantly under hawk-like watch from Lannister guards.
Sometimes she would hop up from her seat and grab one of his swords, swinging it around, doing her weird little dance-step thing that he had no name for. "What are you doing?" He asked one day, when curiosity got the better of him.
"The Water Dance." She replied without looking at him, not even the slightest hesitation or break in her smooth movements.
He rolled his eyes at her lack of elaboration, reaching up his hammer to swing at the hot steel on his anvil. "And… what's the 'Water Dance?'"
Finally, she stopped, casting him a careless glance over her shoulder as she went to put the sword back. "It's the Braavosi style of sword fighting. It requires balance, speed, agility and patience." She gave him a quick once-over. "You would be terrible at it."
For once, he realized the truth in her words and remained un-insulted. "You're probably right." He conceded. "But then again, I bet you couldn't smith if your life depended on it."
She stopped in her tracks, and Gendry realized too late that his words came out sounding far too much like a challenge. There was nothing Arry loved more than a challenge, and his words had done nothing but provide fodder for her fire.
She spun around, marching right up to him and holding out her hand impatiently. "Give it to me." She demanded, gesturing towards his hammer.
He clutched the thing like a possessive child. "Don't think that's the best idea, m'lady." That was stupid of him. The fire in her eyes burned brighter at the hated nickname.
She made a grab for it but he stepped back right in time. "It's quite heavy, Arry, and I don't want you to hurt yourself-"
"Give it, you big brute!" This time, when she lunged for it, she was too quick for him, and she managed to get her paws on the handle, making a move to tug it out of his grasp. He wouldn't let go though, a fact she soon discovered before she began scratching and biting at him like an angry kitten as they wrestled on the ground.
"Alright, alright!" He exclaimed when she bit him hard enough to draw a little bit of blood. "I'll show you how to do it. Just keep your teeth and nails where they belong, you bloody animal."
She grinned ferally at him, getting up and dusting her breeches off like nothing at all had happened. "Hammer." She demanded, sounding more like a Lady than he had ever heard her.
He muttered curses at her under his breath. "You have to actually get the sword out of the forge before you start banging away at it, m'lady." He said, prepared to walk her through the whole process with explicit, step-by-step instructions.
"So first you- Gods- Arya!" He yelled her true name as she picked the hot sword right out of the forge with a pair of tongs, swinging it close enough to him it was just a hairsbreadth away from scalding his skin. She ignored him completely, dropping the hot material in the cold water and looking uncharacteristically delighted when it made a cool, hissing sound.
"That was fun. Now what?" She asked, putting one hand on her hip.
He was sputtering. "But- you… you weren't even supposed to do that! It was still heating, but you…" He trailed off, ending with a noise of discontent as he couldn't put his frustration into words.
"Oh," Her voice was mildly sheepish, but not in the least bit sorry.
"Yes, oh." He growled at her, grabbing the tongs from her hands.
"Can I try the hammer instead?" She sounded hopeful.
"No." He snapped at her, plucking the sword out of the water and placing it back into the fire. "Go away."
"Gods, you're worse than Sansa sometimes." Her murmurs were just loud enough for him to hear. "Please Gendry?"
"You won't listen to me." He grunted, not looking back at her, for he knew she could make herself look deceptively sweet if she wanted something from him. "You'll just mess up again."
"I won't! I promise. Just teach me, please?" He risked a glance down at her and sure enough, her big grey eyes were staring wide up at him, their fathomless depths peering into his soul.
Damnit.
"Fine."
"Thank you!" She threw her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze before letting go. "Alright." She straightened up, looking very serious. "What first?"
He tried his hardest not to look amused. "Well, you need to-"
"Wait,"
He sighed. "What is it now, Arry?"
"I have a question."
"Already?" His voice grew louder as he made him angrier- and it took a lot to make Gendry Waters angry. He was a fairly calm and level-headed person, having been raised by the gentle hand of his mother before she passed away. But Arry never failed to get him riled up.
"More of a request, really." She had to have known how irritated she was making him, but she didn't let it affect her in the slightest.
"Well, then, by all means m'lady- go ahead." He managed to spit out through gritted teeth.
"Can you just skip to the part with the hammer? That's my favorite." He huffed, picking the hammer up off the ground.
"It's heavy." He told her, putting it in her hands hesitantly. Even with his warning, she wasn't prepared, and when he let go it fell to the ground with a crashing thump, nearly crushing her toes.
"Whoa there," He cautioned. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She was sounded stubborn, determined not to require his help. She flexed her fingers, strengthening her grip on the hammer before leaning down. A grunt left her mouth as she straightened up, her arms nearly leaving their sockets as the hammer barely moved an inch off the ground before dropping back down again.
He couldn't help but smirk at her. Finally, something the great Arya Stark couldn't do that he could. He would savor this moment, for he wasn't sure it would come again.
It wasn't for lack of trying though- Arry must have tried to pick up the hammer ten times, growing more frustrated with herself with each passing failure. Finally, he took pity on her, getting up and taking the hammer himself, trying to make it look as effortless as possible as he swung it over his shoulder.
"I knew you couldn't do it." He couldn't hide the smugness from his voice.
"You're a prick." He laughed. It was always so funny to hear her curse.
"And you can't even pick up a hammer." She pushed him, but he just laughed harder, so she pushed him again, and again, until he finally fell on the ground. They rolled around in the dirt as he managed to grab hold of the scratching, clawing, biting ball of fire and hold her an arms-length away from him, suspended in the air.
She growled at him, and it was so unintimidating that he fell into another peal of laughter. He heard the crunch of boots by his side and he turned his head slightly, and upon seeing the feet of a Lannnister guard, he sobered up quickly. He jumped up immediately, pulling Arry with him, his fingers digging into her upper arm.
He instinctively stood in front of her, ready to shield her from whatever wrath the guard had in store for them.
"And what's this?" The guard asked, and Gendry was relieved to hear it was amusement and not malice that coated his voice. "Our blacksmith and our servant girl, both shirking their responsibilities to have a little tumble around in the dirt?"
Gendry merely inclined his head, keeping his gaze downward. Having been raised lowborn, he knew that the less he spoke, the better. However, Lady Stark did not get these same hard-learned lessons as a child, so she was less inclined to hold her tongue.
"We weren't doing anything wrong, Ser." He could tell she was trying her hardest to keep the venom out of her tone, but some of it seeped through. "It was just a little fun."
The guard's eyes flickered to her bright ones, and his precarious good mood was instantly soured. "You be careful of how you talk to me, little one."
She did nothing but lift her chin, not in the slightest bit scared by his vague threat. "I'm Weese's serving maid. You can't do anything to me."
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Gendry chanted in his head at her, trying to make her listen.
The guard crouched down until he was at eye-level with the little wolf, reaching out a gloved hand to touch one of her short brown locks of hair. "I can't kill you, perhaps, but I wouldn't say that I can't do anything." She had the good sense to shudder, at least.
"Enough." Gendry was just a surprised as anyone to hear the demand leave his mouth, to feel his hand that was still on Arry's arm give a sharp tug, pulling her completely behind him. The man stood up and faced him, an inch or two above Gendry's own height. The guard was quite enraged now- that was easy enough to catch.
"You, blacksmith, I can kill. No one will miss you if I put your head on a spike." As he spoke, the guard's hand reached for the pommel of his sword, and Gendry wondered with a sick feeling if the Lannister man would behead him right here, in the middle of his forge, with Arry watching.
"Blackhurst!" The guard's head snapped back and Gendry allowed himself a second to breathe. "You're wanted in the stables."
The man named Blackhurst glanced back at him, sneering. "You're lucky, boy." He stated before swaggering off.
Gendry closed his eyes, muttering a quick prayer to the Seven. He could feel Arry looking at him, watching him and waiting for his reaction. When his eyes flickered back open, he was not surprised to find himself captured in her grey gaze.
She seemed to find something in his stare when they made eye contact, because a look of guilt flashed across her face. "I'm sorry." At first, when he saw her hands come out, he thought she was attacking him, but when her arms wrapped around his torso in a most out-of-character hug, he didn't know what to do other than hug back.
"It's alright, Arry." He soothed, lightly petting her ruffly, short hair that was just beginning to grow out. "It's not your fault."
"I would miss you." She said suddenly, her head popping up without breaking their embrace.
"What?" He asked, unsure of what she was referring to.
"If they killed you. I would miss you, you know." Gendry didn't know if it was her bluntness that made him smile, or the fact that she said this with such a shining honesty in her eyes that he could have never doubted it.
"Thank you, m'lady. I feel simply treasured." His teasing was met with the return of her usual scowl, along with a punch for the 'm'lady' comment. When she stomped away all in a huff, Gendry was quite sure Arry would never say anything nice to him again.
A/N: So the way this story is turning out is that the first three chapters are full of fluff, then the last three are pretty angsty. So enjoy it while you can... I loved all the response I got on the first chapter, so keep it coming! Thanks for reading :)