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"Good morrow friend!" Arya smiles at the young boy approaching her shyly. He smiles back and tucks his face against the woman holding his hand's leg. Arya's grin widens and she kneels down so she can look the boy in the eye. "What did you think of our fight?"
The boy pulls his face away enough to glance in Arya's direction. "It was cool. And kinda scary."
"Aye, but what's the fun of a fight that's not scary?"
The little boy giggles and Arya beams. Her favorite part of working at the ren faire was getting to interact with the kids. She always made sure to take the time to talk with as many as she could of ones in the audience after one of her 'fights'. She did four or five fights a day, all of them choreographed down to the last detail. She had originally thought that having all of the moves planned out ahead of time would make the fights dull but she always found ways to put a new spin on it.
"Where'd you get your dagger?" the boy's mother asks squinting at the custom wolf-headed dagger strapped to Arya's hip. "My partner is a bit of a weapons nut."
The thought of the maker of her dagger makes Arya want to grit her teeth but she holds her smile in place from years of practice and directs her to the blacksmith tents. They leave with a wave and Arya makes sure to walk in the opposite direction so that she doesn't have to walk by Gendry's. The less time she has to spend in his presence the better.
Despite working at the largest renaissance faire in Westeros it's a small world for the people who work there and she can't avoid him forever. That evening she is sitting outside of her tent with Hot-Pie when Gendry walks by from the direction of the showers, toweling water off his wet hair. Arya's eyes track him of their own accord. She really wished he wasn't so attractive, or at least not such a skilled weapon maker. One or the other would be fine but both made it that much harder for her to cling to her old hatred of him.
Maybe trying to hate Gendry after all this time was a bit too extreme even for her but Arya had never been one to take the easy option. They had first met four years ago on Arya's second day working at the faire. She had been fighting with Tom, the owner, and operator of the faire, arguing with him yet again about her wearing trousers instead of dresses. She thought they had settled this when he'd hired her but apparently, he wasn't a man to give up easily.
"Women have always snuck away from traditional gender roles," Arya reminded him with her hands on her hips as Tom glared at her offending trousers and tunic assemble. "It's actually more historically accurate that you have someone like me around challenging the status quo than if all of your women reenactors wore dresses."
She could practically hear Tom grinding his teeth and felt a surge of satisfaction. He was beginning to see things her way, she could tell. Arya was about to continue her argument when an unfamiliar voice said behind her.
"Girl's got a point. Let her wear pants."
Arya turned to see who the voice belonged to, narrowing her eyes in a glare at the attractive man with deep blue eyes. Who did he think he was interrupting her argument like that? More importantly, who did he think she was? She wasn't some damsel in distress, she didn't need saving and she certainly did not need his help to fight her own battles.
"Aye Gendry you're right," Tom shrugged in agreement before walking off to find another employee to nitpick.
Arya whirled to face the stranger, Gendry, full on. Of course, Tom agreed once a man had pointed out the same thing Arya had. Anger and annoyance roared through her, making her voice tight. It was directed more at Tom than the stranger in front of her but well, Tom had headed off and Gendry had the misfortune of still being in her warpath. "I didn't need your help. I had it handled."
Gendry raised a brow at the force of her anger. "Clearly."
"I don't need to be rescued."
"Course not m'lady," Gendry rolled his eyes, and Arya barely resisted stomping her foot at the title. It hit a little closer to home than he probably realized.
"Don't call me that!"
So of course he called her nothing else since.
They'd been bickering from that day forward. It had only gotten worse last year when Gendry realized she was a Stark and actually was a Lady. It wasn't like Arya was hiding her identity so she didn't understand why it had taken him so long to know but once he did the comments got worse, calling her rich girl and acting like working at the faire was all a game to her. Never mind that she had now been there longer than half of the staff, most of them left after a year or two.
Arya hated few things more than when people based their opinion on her based on her family, she loved her family more than anything but she was determined to make her own way in life. She hadn't taken money from them since the day she turned eighteen and while none of them understood that or her choice to travel the country and live in a tent without wi-fi or running water, they supported her choices and loved her unconditionally and her them.
Arya could tell that Gendry felt something unconditionally for her too, hate or at the very least deep annoyance.
Despite their mutual dislike for each other Gendry is the best at his job. He's worked in the blacksmith tent longer than anyone in the faire and Arya has commissioned several weapons from him. Every time she orders something they both act like they are doing the other a favor. Hot-Pie refuses to go with her when she goes to Gendry's tent anymore, he says he can't handle the heat which Arya finds strange since he spends the majority of his time in the kitchens in the food carts and the blacksmith tents aren't that much harder.
"Handle broke again," Arya says in lieu of hello, placing the pieces of her wolfhandled dagger on the table. Despite it being early morning and the faire not opening for hours the tent is already warm. Arya pulls on the neck of her t-shirt and wonders how Gendry can stand to already be in his costume. He'll be boiling by the end of the day.
"Well met m'lady," Gendry says raising his eyebrows at her. Tom is always harping on people to stay in character and speak in the old language whenever they're on the faire grounds, whether the faire is open or not. He tends to wack people in the knees with his scabbard when he hears them talking twenty-first-century slang. Her first few months on the job Arya's legs were covered in deep bruises but she's gotten better at knowing when he's in earshot.
Arya rolls her eyes at Gendry and hops up to sit on the long wooden table. "Yeah, yeah whatever. Can you fix it by the first show?"
Gendry swats at her leg to get her to move her boots off the table. Arya stretches her legs out as long as they'll go (which to be fair, isn't very) and wiggles her toes. Gendry glares at her but grabs the dagger, leaning his hip against the table. He's close enough that Arya could count the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose if she was so inclined.
She isn't.
"You need to be more careful with this," Gendry sighs, turning the broken pieces in his hand before glaring up at her like the sight of the broken weapon is a personal attack.
"It's a dagger," Arya says sardonically. "It's not made to be careful."
"This style of handle is," Gendry argues before putting the pieces down on the table and going to rifle through some things on the other side of the tent. Arya watches him curiously and when he returns he's holding a different dagger in his hands. He pulls it from its scabbard and Arya sees the dark tint of the blade.
"Is that Valyrian steel?" she asks in awe, reaching for it reverently. Valyrian steel is a rare commodity. She's only seen one blade in her life, her family's ancient broadsword that lives in a place of honor above the mantel in her father's study. "Where'd you get it?"
Gendry shrugs and evades the question, "Here, use this in your fights today. If you manage to break that we've got a problem."
Valyrian steel was nearly impossible to break. Arya would never be able to even scratch the shiny metal surface. Even knowing this, part of her wants to take Gendry's words as a challenge.
"You're letting me use it?" Arya asks in surprise before narrowing her eyes in a glare. "What's the catch?"
Gendry rolls his eyes and sits on the table beside her. Arya can feel the heat of him beside her even in the stifling tent. Maybe that's what Hot-Pie meant.
"No catch. You send me more customers than anyone. Just keep doing that."
Arya is tempted to stop sending customers his way at the words but that is a level of petty too shallow even for her. She runs her fingers over the tip of the sharp blade and watches a drop of blood well on her thumb.
"We should probably put a safety tip on this," Arya sighs hating to think of dulling the blade's surface even temporarily. "Otherwise I might end up cutting Brianne."
Gendry smiles, "Makes it more authentic."
Arya isn't sure which of them is more surprised when she laughs.
"How do you fight like that?" a little girl asks, running up to Arya after her last fight of the day. The girl's long black hair has fallen out of her ponytail and blows in her face. She pushes it back impatiently as she stares up at Arya in awe.
Arya kneels down in front of her so the girl can hear her better over the wind. The Storm Land's are always blustery this time of year. Arya is willing to bet there will be a storm before the night is over.
"Lots of practice and a good dagger," Arya answers which is always her answer to the question. She can't very well tell people the fights are scripted, most people figure it out and she doesn't want to ruin the magic for those that don't. Plus, she's a very skilled fighter even when it's not planned.
"Speaking of daggers could you help us? We're looking for our brother's booth and can't seem to find it." the pretty woman with the girl asks. "His name's Gendry, he's one of the blacksmiths."
"Aye I know Gendry," Arya admits, touching the new dagger on her hip without thinking. "A fine weapon's maker that man." She gestures for the sisters to follow her and leads her way across the faire. It had been packed early that day but the crowd has thinned down considerably. Perhaps everyone is sensing the oncoming storm as well.
It is a ten-minute walk across the fair and Barra keeps up a steady string of conversation the whole time, slipping her hand into Arya's so Mya and her can lift her off the ground and swing her. Arya can't help laughing at her actions, it reminds her of her own nieces and nephews that she doesn't get to see nearly as much as she'd like.
Barra throws herself into Gendry's arms the moment she sees him. Arya finds herself smiling at the way he swings her around with a wide grin. She hadn't even realized Gendry had sisters although as she thinks it she is forced to admit to herself that she doesn't really know very much about him at all.
"I'll leave you to it," Arya smiles waving at the sisters and turning to leave the tent.
"Wait!" Barra cries as she wraps her arms around Gendry's neck. Arya turns back in surprise at the frantic tone of her voice. "Don't go! Come with us."
"Where?" Arya asks, furrowing her brow. She's never seen Gendry leave the fair before. Not that she's been paying attention to such a thing of course. They are all allowed to leave the grounds after hours but Arya thought that Gendry existed solely at the faire as she does.
"We're getting pizza!" Barra cries as Gendry looks down at his sister with such an intense look of panic on his face it's almost comical.
"I'm sure Arya has other things to do."
Arya huffs and places her hands on her hips. She had been planning on saying no until he said that but now gettings pizza with the siblings is the only thing she wants to do.
"I'd love to join you."
Pizza is a great idea, as it nearly always is. Arya forgets sometimes that food other than gas station snacks and the turkey legs and other period-typical food they serve at the faire exists. Gendry seems to feel the same if the vast amount of food the two of them are able to eat is any indication. He doesn't even look mad that she crashed his reunion anymore. They get a few weird looks from the other pizza parlor patrons for still being in their faire costumes but Arya is used to that after all these years and they both ignore it with ease.
The predicted storm rolls in as they are leaving, fat drops of water hitting them as they crowd into Mya's little car.
"I don't know if I can get you up to the fair in this," Mya says worrying on her lower lip. The road up to the faire is precarious at the best of times; twisty, and windy. Add in the dark and rain and the fact that Mya's car is small, the tires threadbare. It all added up to disaster. "Do you mind just crashing at my place? The storm will blow itself out by morning. I'll have you back in plenty of time."
"I don't mind," Gendry assures her before looking back into the backseat and glaring at Arya until she agrees as if she was going to do anything else.
Mya's place is small and cozy. She offers them a couch and an air mattress. Arya takes the air mattress telling Gendry that it will probably pop if he sleeps on it. Mya lends them clothes to change into so they don't have to sleep in their costumes, although it wouldn't be the first time for either of them. Ayra's faire clothes are more comfortable than most of the women's but it is still a relief to change into something from this century.
Arya curls onto the air mattress trying to ignore that Gendry is laying only a few feet away from her in the dark living room. This whole night has gone in vastly different directions than Arya had expected and likewise she is forced to admit the fact that Gendry isn't exactly what she has always thought either. Seeing him outside of the faire and with his sisters is making her see him in a whole new light and Arya is trying to reconcile with the fact that the man she spent the last few years thinking she hated might not be someone she hates after all.
A loud boom of thunder jolts her upright and Arya's gaze flashes to the window in time to see a bright streak of lightning crack across the sky through the cracks in the blinds.
"Are you okay?" Gendry asks.
Arya startles, she hadn't realized he was still awake. "Fine," she reassures him before slipping off the air mattress and going to the window. She sits underneath it so she can watch the sky through the blinds. She has always loved storms ever since she was a child. She loves when nature holds nothing back. After a moment Gendry joins her at the window, pulling the blinds up without her asking so she can see the whole sky. Neither of them says anything, they just sit on opposite ends of the window and watch the lightning dance across the sky long into the night.
Things change between them after that night. They aren't friends per se but they are friendly. It turns out that Gendry isn't nearly as bad as she had originally thought. Hot-Pie no longer refuses to be alone with the two of them. Progress. Although Arya isn't entirely sure what they are progressing towards.
"Shove over," Arya says gesturing for Hot-Pie to make room for her on the log he is sitting on. It is their last night in Casterly Rock and they are having their traditional final night bonfire. They held one at every stop, it was a way to say goodbye to the vendors who only worked the faire at their local stop and a good way for the company to bond.
"There's room over there," Hot-Pie gestures to his left to where Gendry is sitting alone on a smaller log. Hot-Pie turns back to his conversation with Lomy and ignores Arya who rolls her eyes. Now that they aren't bickering every time they see each other Hot-Pie seems determined to make Gendry and her spend time together.
"Hey," Arya says as she sits beside him. Gendry scoots over a little to make room for her but the log is small and even though she herself doesn't take up a lot of space her leg still ends up pressed against Gendry's. She feels warm all of a sudden and she doesn't think it's just from the fire.
"Hey," Gendry reaches beside him to pull a cider from a cooler tucked against the log. He passes it to Arya who raises her brows in surprise. She wonders if Gendry knows the cider is her favorite or if he just picked a bottle at random.
"Thanks," she takes the bottle from him, twisting the cap off and tucking it into her pocket to recycle later.
"Saw your fight today. You changed the choreography."
"Oh. We do that every couple of stops. Brianna and I were getting bored." Arya explains. She can feel a flush on her cheeks and has to resist the urge to place the cool cider bottle against her skin. She hadn't noticed Gendry at her fight. She wonders if she would have fought differently if she had.
The thought gives her pause. Why would it matter to her if he was watching or not? The fights are staged, it isn't like she could change the outcome based on the audience. It wouldn't be faire to Brianne to change their plans without warning.
"Don't see how you could get bored," Gendry says pulling Arya from her thoughts. "It all looks pretty intense to me."
"You do know it's staged right?" Arya asks in a deadpan voice. It is common knowledge among everyone in the faire circuit that all performances are choreographed to the last detail. Likewise, it is something they all love to joke about, pretending they don't know it.
"Really? I couldn't tell."
Arya rolls her eyes and nudges Gendry's shoulder with her own. He chuckles, turning away with Anguy taps his shoulder and begins talking to him. Arya turns away from them, staring into the fire as her shoulder burns where it was pressed against Gendry's even for that fleeting moment. She takes a hard pull of her cider as she is forced to admit to herself that now that Gendry and her aren't spending all of their time bickering and annoying each other she doesn't find his company half-bad. In fact, she is starting to look forward to the time that they spend together.
Gendry laughs beside her at something Anguy says and Arya's heart stutters. Silently cursing Arya drains her cider as she forces herself to admit what that familiar lurch in her heartbeat meant. She didn't just find Gendry not annoying anymore. She kind of sort of maybe definitely liked him.
Crap.
In the morning Arya is stunned to see Hot-Pie's van full. She has always ridden with him since she joined the faire. She doesn't carry much so she easily fits in between all his equipment.
"Sorry Arya," Hot-Pie runs his hand sheepishly over his hair. "I must have packed the van wrong, usually there's more room than this."
"We can repack it," Arya shrugs. She doesn't see a problem here but Hot-Pie shakes his head no before she has even finished speaking.
"We'd get to the next stop too late," Hot-Pie says before waving to someone behind her. "I'll get you a different ride."
Arya looks over her shoulder to see Gendry walking towards them. Her heart stutters and she begins to protest.
"Wait no-" Arya cuts herself off as Gendry comes to a stop before them.
"What's going on?" Gendry asks, looking between her and Hot-Pie curiously.
Arya hoists her bag higher on her shoulder and hopes that the fluttering crush feelings she had last night were a by product of the firelight and the setting. Gendry smiles at her as he glances in her direction and Arya's stomach swoops. Damn it. It's been so long since she's had a crush on anyone, she'd been hoping she was done with those feelings. All they ever did was complicate things. Gendry and her were just starting to get not complicated. Now her stupid heart was going and changing that again.
"Do you have room in your truck for Arya?" Hot-Pie asks brightly like he isn't throwing Arya to the wolves. Arya kind of wants to kick him.
"Sure," Gendry shrugs not even asking Hot-Pie why he is kicking Arya out of his van for the first time in years. He offers his arm to Arya jokingly, "M'lady." The term doesn't bother her nearly as much as it used to. It almost felt like an inside joke or even a term of endearment.
Still, Arya glares at him and ignores his arm. "Where's your truck?" she asks even though she knows exactly which one it is. He gestures her toward it and Arya stalks towards it silently promising to get Hot-Pie back for this. She isn't sure what he's up to but she knows meddling when she sees it.
Arya expects the drive to be awkward, full of silences neither of them really knows how to fill. They've only just stopped snapping at each other over everything in the last few weeks. To her surprise, there isn't a lag in the conversation for the entire four hours. By the time they stop at their new campground Arya can't ignore the feelings brewing inside her. She likes him. Of all the bullheaded men in the faire she went and got a crush on Gendry.
She tries for weeks to avoid her feelings. She can have a crush on Gendry, but that doesn't mean she has to do anything about it. Arya tries to avoid being alone with him but it seems inescapable lately. If she didn't know any better she'd say Hot-Pie kept pushing them into situations to be alone together on purpose. She tries to bring it up with him but somehow whenever she tries Hot-Pie manages to slip away from the conversation.
Arya isn't used to being vulnerable. She's used to being tough, cold, her icy exterior unpenetrable. Gendry has managed to work his way so far under her skin that he no longer is fooled by her mask of indifference. Having someone look at her and see her so well is terrifying so Arya goes back to what she should have never stopped doing and simply avoids Gendry altogether. It is harder than she expects, somehow since Storm's End they have begun to spend nearly all their time together and she hadn't even noticed. She is only able to keep it up for a few days before admitting to herself that avoiding him is more work than it's worth and she stops trying. She'd rather have him in her life even with her futile crush than not have him at all.
The River Lands are beautiful in late fall. Arya slinks off from the company after the faire closes one night and walks down to one of the many rivers that give the area its name. She strips off her shoes and socks, pushes her leggings up over her knees, and walks out into the water. The moment the icy water touches her skin she hisses in surprise. She welcomes the cold and wades further in. Most of the rivers here start up in the North which means a lot of the water is snow runoff. Standing there Arya closes her eyes and lets herself pretend she's home.
"You'll get frostbite if you stay in there too long," a voice remarks casually behind her. Arya hadn't heard anyone approach and she nearly jumps out of her skin but she's done enough training that she only gives a small twitch to physically show her surprise.
She looks over her shoulder at Gendry who is standing by the edge of the water, his thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans as he watches her.
"My Northern blood would never allow that," Arya smirks leaning on their familiar banter to ignore the pounding of her heart. She hasn't been alone with Gendry for a few weeks and even then they have been at the faire, surrounded by people in the vicinity. This is the first time the two of them have been well and truly alone since his truck.
Gendry stares at her for a moment longer before leaning down to untie his boots.
"What are you doing?" Arya asks in surprise.
"What's it look like?" Gendry asks rolling his jeans up.
Arya swallows and looks over her shoulder at the dark river behind her. In the shallows where she stands she can only feel the barest brush of the current. If she wades further in the ground could drop out beneath her or she could get swept away by the water. Both options seem like better ones than letting Gendry come close to her while no one else is around but Arya can't get her traitorous feet to move.
Gendry swears loudly when he steps into the river but he grits his teeth and comes to stand directly in front of her. Arya has to tip her head back to meet his eyes and she silently curses his height.
Gendry doesn't say anything but he's shivering so hard his teeth are chattering and Arya wonders if he is even capable of talking at all at the moment. Arya frowns at him and pushes against his chest lightly.
"Go back to shore if you're cold," she rolls her eyes and tries to ignore how her hands burn from that lightest touch.
He shakes his head and it takes him a moment to get the words out between his chattering teeth. "I want to be where you are."
Arya flushes despite the cold. "Why?"
Gendry frowns down at her, taking another step closer so he is entirely in her personal space. She has to tilt her head back even further and her neck cricks in protest. He really is ridiculously tall. The moon reflects off the water around them and Arya swears she can even see it shining in Gendry's eyes.
"C'mon Arya," Gendry whispers, he must be adjusting to the water temperature because his teeth have stopped chattering although he still shivers roughly. "You know why."
Arya isn't sure if it's due to the sound of her name in his mouth, the way he's looking at her, or the diluted Northern ice giving her courage but she decides she's done avoiding her feelings. She's lived for too long denying and pretending. Arya reaches for Gendry's hand, threading their fingers together and closing the last bit of space between them.
"I'd kiss you but I can't reach," Arya admits pushing up on her tiptoes anyway.
Gendry's chuckle makes her shiver more than the water and he leans down to meet her halfway.
*several months later*
"You don't have to be nervous," Arya reassures him for what she is pretty sure is at least the hundredth time, "They are going to love you."
Gendry makes a noise of acknowledgment and goes back to sorting the many weapons on display as if they aren't in pristine order. They are in Winterfell for the next fortnight and the faire is about to open to the public. Arya watches the snow fall softly outside of the tent and pulls her sleeves down over her hands even though she isn't cold at all.
"Arya!" the familiar voices of her little brothers has Arya on her feet, speeding out of the tent to reach them. After hugs and exclamations over every little thing, Arya gestures to her side where Gendry stands unsure in the opening of his tent.
"This is Gendry. This is his booth, he's a blacksmith," Arya adds as he shakes her father's hand.
"Figures you date someone who makes weapons," Rickon says with an eye roll.
"Yeah pretty sure that's the only reason she's dating me," Gendry agrees with a shrug. Arya can see the smirk on the corner of his lips which means he's kidding.
"Don't be ridiculous," Arya tuts, slipping her arm through Gendry's and leaning against his side which is as warm as always. "That is just one reason of many."