Summary: Gendry decides that annoying Arya is his favourite past time.
Gendry
"My Prince, I am not sure this is wise, if anything were to happen…" Mikken the Stark's blacksmith protested for the hundredth time.
Gendry had gone to him to ask if he could sharpen the blade of his long-sword for it had dulled considerably on the journey north. To his surprise he found the usually jovial blacksmith not hard at work, but bent double and wheezing, his skin colourless and sheened in sweat. He had run over and helped the large man to a seat.
"Mikken, you are unwell, please go home and rest. Surely Lord Stark would not force you to work when you are sick." The older man shook his head. "Exactly so please-"
"Did you need something My Prince?" He asked gently, his voice almost inaudible as he coughed again.
"Indeed, but it is of little importance."
"What did you require?"
"My sword is blunt and has a few dents in it; I was going to ask if you could straighten it for me." Gendry described in a rush. "But it can wait…"
Then an idea came to his head. Back in Kings Landing he had been an apprentice blacksmith for five years, simply needing something to break up his monotonous life. Though his father had raged for days about the futility of the idea Gendry had done it anyway, loving the creation process, the sing of steel.
He then explained this to Mikken who was wide eyed and staring up at him as though he were mad.
"Actually if you would allow me to use your tools I am sure I can mend it myself."
It took some time but eventually Mikken relented and Gendry had set to work. The forge had soon warmed up, so much so that he had discarded his shirt, the combination of sweat and smoke dirtying his naked skin. He thrust the blade into the fiery coals, waiting as it heated and became soft enough to re-shape. He picked up the hammer once the sword was ready and began hitting the hot metal on the anvil. The noise it made was similar to music, a harmonious rhythm that he alone controlled.
He never realised until now how much he missed working for Tobho Mott back in Kings Landing. He had been a fierce man to work for, but had taught Gendry everything he needed to know and in the end had considered Mott a friend. He sometimes visited the aging man when he had time, and it always amused him to see him sat in a corner grumbling and threatening the new apprentices, saying that even though his sight was fading he could do a better job himself.
Gendry chuckled to himself, flipping the blade over to inspect the other side. There was another dent and he picked up a hammer and began tapping out the uneven surface. With that, the door opened the cold Northern air gusting into the small forge.
"Mikken, I was wondering if you could-" Arya stopped abruptly after noticing it wasn't the timeworn blacksmith who stood before her.
Her silver eyes enlarged as they roamed over his half-clad body and redness seeped into her face. Her eyes darted away from him as she suddenly became very interested in the fur of her cloak. Gendry never thought he would see Lady Ayra Stark embarrassed. He couldn't help but grin at her stricken expression as she tried to compose herself.
"Where's Mikken?" She asked her eyes still large and if he wasn't mistaken, heated.
"He's very unwell, so he's resting. I decided to do the repair work myself." He dipped the blade into the cold water and felt the steam swirl around him.
"I didn't know you were a blacksmith." Arya stated, cocking her head to one side, her eyes regarding him once more.
"Well, I'm full of surprises."
She laughed and stepped further into the forge, her eyes locked on the sword in his hands. He was surprised to see her in a dark grey dress and a fur lined cloak, knowing she preferred shirts and pants. He liked seeing her in a gown. The colour of it too seemed to make her eyes shimmer brilliantly. She seemed to notice his stare and curtsied in the manner she was taught. It was his turn to chuckle.
She came right up beside him and nodded towards the metal in his hands.
"Did you make that?" Arya asked softly.
"Yes when I was living in Kings Landing." He replied, his voice for some reason husky. Maybe it was the thick air drying his throat. Or maybe it was because of how close she was, her floral rose scent enveloping him in a different kind of heat.
"It's good work."
"Did Arya Stark just pay a compliment?" He joked and she scowled up at him.
"I'm allowed to praise fine craftsmanship when I see it stupid." Arya snapped.
"So why is it you never accept compliments from others?" He asked her, watching her face carefully. She thought for a moment before replying.
"Because they're not true, I don't know why people even bother to speak such things to me at times."
"What things do people say?" He also wanted to add 'who says it?' But he didn't.
"I was once called 'stunning' by Lyanna." Arya sneered the word. "I don't know why she said that. I'm not." Gendry really wanted to argue with her but it would be a pointless argument. She refused to see herself as others did.
"So what are you doing here my lady?" He questioned, breaking the awkward silence that surrounded them.
"Do not call me m'lady." Arya scolded, her teeth gritting. He knew it was wrong of him but he wanted to call her it again. He had found that teasing her like this was quite entertaining. "Don't you dare." She threatened as if reading his mind.
He bowed his head respectfully, feeling his hair fall into his eyes.
"As milady commands." She shoved him in the chest and he stumbled back trying not to smirk. "That wasn't very ladylike." This time she whacked him twice on the arm. "Ow." Truthfully it didn't hurt all that much but she looked like she was going to do it again even harder. He decided just then that teasing her was fun even if she did hit him.
"Arya are you beating Prince Gendry?" Jon asked from behind her, his stormy grey eyes laughing.
"Yes."
"Why?" He asked, fighting a smile.
"Because he's annoying and stupid and he earned it." She snapped, turning to face her cousin. She folded her arms across her chest as Jon approached.
"What are you two doing anyway, besides irritating one another?" He asked them, eyes scanning them both before landing suspiciously on Gendry's shirtless form.
"He's fixing his sword because he's awful at swordplay. I wanted to ask Mikken something but he's not here; apparently he's really ill." Arya finished with a sigh. "Why are you here?" She asked whilst stroking Ghost's thick white fur.
"I was looking for you. Lady Catelyn is asking for you." He answered and she groaned, her shoulders slumping a little. "You should get going Arya, she's not very happy with you at the moment." Arya nodded but turned to Gendry before she left.
"See you later?" He nodded and she left. His gaze went to Jon who smiled.
"Be thankful I found you and she didn't."
"Believe me, I am." Lady Catelyn wasn't pleased with him at the moment, thinking that both he, Jon and Lyanna were all having a very negative effect on her youngest daughter. He dreaded how she would have reacted if she had found him and Arya again; especially as he was dressed less than appropriately for a prince.
"What do you think of Arya?" Jon asked, his eyes watching Gendry's expression.
"Well you didn't exaggerate, she's certainly defiant." He answered pulling on the shirt he had discarded.
"And fearless." Jon added.
"And mischievous and wilful and by the Gods I don't think I've ever met anyone so stubborn." Jon tittered at him, raising his eyebrows.
"Oh I don't know, I can think of someone just as bad." He nodded towards Gendry. They laughed together as he finished off the sword and placed the tools back to where he found them. "Tell me though; is she what you expected, after listening to my stories?" Jon sat on the workbench and patted Ghosts large head. Gendry thought for a moment.
"Honestly, I don't know. She's just what you described and so much more."
"How so?"
"She's not only those things but she…" Gendry had considerable trouble thinking of the right words to describe Arya and how he felt about her. "She challenges me, irritates me, laughs at me, she mocks me, she confides-"
Jon rose from the bench and patted him on the shoulder. He smiled at his friend.
"Glad to hear it." Jon stated and left, Ghost silently following him out of the forge leaving him with his thoughts.
