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Her lord father and lady mother quarrelled before the boy arrived. Arya overheard them and she knew why it was so. He was a bastard, just like Jon. Father had only fathered one. The king, her father’s friend, had fathered many more. This one had to leave Kings Landing. The queen did not want any of the king’s bastards near and so father took him in.
Arya endured her lessons but as soon as she could she escaped to see the boy who caused so much fuss. People shook their heads at her and smiled as she passed but nobody told her to go back. She found him easily enough. He was at the forge with Mikken and her father. Her father had described him already. All of the king’s bastards looked like him, just as Jon looked like father.
“I can work,” he was saying sullenly.
“I know you can Gendry,” her father said gently. “You can finish your apprenticeship with Mikken.”
The boy studied her father uncertainly. He was bigger than Arya expected, bigger than Jon and even Robb. It wasn’t his height so much as the muscle in his arms and chest. Her father saw her watching and frowned. Arya darted forward. Gendry turned his head and his black hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it back and Arya saw his eyes were blue and distrustful.
“I’m Arya,” she offered.
Gendry seemed as though he might not answer at first. He lowered his eyes. He bent a little until her father took hold of his arm.
“You do not need to kneel for my daughters Gendry.”
Gendry set his jaw stubbornly and kept his eyes lowered.
“M’lady,” he said stiffly.
Arya was used to people looking at her like that at first. He just doesn’t know me yet. Gendry seemed stubborn but so was Arya. She thought of Jon being sent away and how awful that would be and she did not want it to be awful for Gendry.
We will be friends.
She offered him a smile when he finally raised his eyes but her father called her away before they could speak further.
“Come along Arya, it is almost time for dinner.”
Arya obeyed but she cast a glance over her shoulder as she followed him back into the castle. Gendry was watching her, his face screwed up as though it hurt to think. When he saw her looking he turned back into the forge.
*
Gendry made things very difficult. Arya always liked to visit Mikken in the forge. She had done it before Gendry arrived. Gendry did not seem to like her there at first. He frowned at her and did not speak.
“What are you making?” she asked.
He hovered over it protectively, as though he thought she meant to take it.
“It will be mine own. Mikken said I could m’lady.”
Arya cocked her head. “I did not ask who it belonged to,” she said. “I asked what it was.” She distracted him and ducked under his arm to look. “Will it be a longsword?”
Gendry flushed and moved two steps away from her. “Aye,” he said stiffly.
“Do you know how to use it?”
He began to look annoyed. “I’ll learn m’lady.”
Arya pulled herself up to sit on the bench.
“I have a sword too,” she confided to him. “My brother had Mikken make it for me.”
Gendry seemed to forget his annoyance. He smiled.
“I never knew a lords daughter who liked to sit on dirty benches and play with swords.”
Arya bit her lip. I’m not supposed to either. Her skirt was now stained. She dropped down from the bench and inspected it but the damage was already done.
Mother won’t be happy.
“I’ll give you your first lesson,” she told Gendry.
He eyed her warily. “What is that m’lady?”
Arya grinned. “Stick ‘em with the pointy end.”
Gendry laughed. He didn’t stop laughing either, even when Mikken came back and when Mikken heard about it he laughed too. It almost made the lecture worth it when she returned to her chambers.
*
They were friends now for true but Gendry continued to be so stubborn. It took him years before he would call her Arya.
“It is my name day,” she told him. “I am eleven now.”
Gendry frowned.
“Shouldn’t you be in the castle receiving your gifts m’lady?”
“Call me Arya,” she told him. “It is my name day. You have to do what I ask today.”
He smiled and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners.
“It doesn’t work that way m’lady.” He scuffed his boot against the ground. “Lady Catelyn doesn’t like you being here with me.”
It was Arya’s turn to frown.
“We don’t do anything wrong. You are my friend. My friends call me Arya.”
Gendry got that stubborn look on his face.
“I know my courtesies m’lady.”
Arya thought for a moment.
“It is courtesy to give a name day gift.”
Gendry flushed and looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t have anything to give,” he mumbled.
“Yes you do,” she said quickly. “You can call me Arya like I asked.”
He looked uncertain before smiling again.
“You won’t give this up will you?” Arya shook her head. “Alright then,” he said slowly, “happy name day, Lady Arya.”
She retrieved the pastries she had smuggled out of the castle and gave him one. His eyes widened but he took it.
“See that wasn’t so hard,” she told him.
“You are going to get me in trouble,” he said through a mouthful of pastry. “I just know it.”
*
Gendry wasn’t wrong about her mother. Her mother did not like her spending so much time in the forge. Arya convinced Gendry to go riding with her and her brothers. He was reluctant but Jon encouraged him. Jon was always helping her, always knowing what to say or do to make things better. The riding was good and they found other things to do, meeting sometimes in the woods with Bran. Gendry wasn’t much for climbing but he watched them and he seemed happy to eat whatever they managed to pick or smuggle from the kitchens.
“It is better here than I thought,” he told her one day when they were sitting together in the woods.
Arya eyed him warily. “What did you think?”
Gendry shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t have anything before.”
Arya bit her lip. She knew his mother died when he was small. His father still didn’t even acknowledge him. Arya’s father gave him a place but the king did not even visit or write or anything. He wasn’t at all like her father even if he was her father’s friend.
“Father says you do good work.”
Gendry looked pleased. “I’m good with a hammer.” The pleased expression faded. “It is all that I’m good for.”
He became closed off suddenly and Arya didn’t understand.
“That isn’t true.”
She moved to put her hand on his arm but he shook her off.
“You’re different m’lady,” he told her, “but I’m still just a bastard.”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” she protested.
He paid her no mind, rising and heading back towards the castle. Arya spotted her mother frowning at them. She did not speak of Gendry though. Her focus went to the tree where Bran was still hanging onto one of the higher limbs.
“Bran, must you make me say it again.”
Bran scrambled down with a guilty expression. He looked at his feet once he stood on solid ground.
“I know mother,” he said guiltily. “No climbing.”
Arya couldn’t share Bran’s smile on the return to the castle. She was still wondering why Gendry was so angry.
*
Whatever the problem was it remained. Arya’s twelfth name day passed and Gendry remained distant. She tried to focus on her secret sword lessons with Jon in the godswood. It was the most fun she had aside from riding. Trying to avoid the septa made it difficult. She never managed to spend as much time on it as she wanted.
Everything good felt like it came to an end the day Jon announced he was leaving.
“I am joining the Night’s Watch,” he told her.
Arya cried in a way she never had before but he didn’t change his mind.
“I want to go with you. I always wanted to see the Wall.”
Even through her tears she saw him smile and she wanted to hit him.
“You never know little sister. One day you might. I will still visit.”
The day he left she said a tearful goodbye and retreated to the forge. This time Gendry did not send her away or scowl or say things about only being a bastard. He let her sit with him and prompted her to tell him all the good things about her brother.
“You are like him,” she whispered at the end. “You like me the way I am. You don’t care that I’m no good at being a lady.”
Gendry looked startled.
“You were born a lady. It is what you are.”
He began to get that look again, the one he had when he left her in the woods. Arya wasn’t going to let him again. She still felt too sad to have him push her away.
“Don’t start acting all stupid again,” she warned him.
“I’m not stupid,” Gendry replied, getting that stubborn expression he wore a lot.
“I didn’t say you were stupid,” she sighed. “I said you were acting stupid. Don’t do it again.”
He studied her for a little and then nodded slowly.
“You spend an awful lot of time telling me what to do.”
Arya chewed on her lip. “You don’t have to do what I say.”
Gendry smiled. “Sometimes you make sense though.”
“Only sometimes?” she hit him and he laughed.
*
Gendry made Jon’s absence a little easier to bear. Arya soon had other things to worry about anyways. Sansa and Jeyne were talking about betrothals and getting married. Her sister was promised to one of their lord father’s bannermen on her fifteenth name day. The talk of her leaving Winterfell when she married gave Arya an awful thought.
I might be expected to leave too.
Arya wasn’t stupid, she knew that highborn ladies married and lived with their husbands but that wasn’t her. Her father had not spoken of her marrying. Sansa and Jeyne often spoke of husbands and courtship but that was them.
I won’t go, she thought to herself. Father won’t make me.
She endured her lessons but she still preferred to be in the woods or the godswood, to sit by the heart tree in the place her father loved. She wanted to spend her time in the kitchens and the yard and the forge. Arya might be a woman now but she still wasn’t any good at being a lady, no matter how much she tried.
They wouldn’t see it though. Mikken found her in the forge with Gendry, laughing while he chased her. Gendry had just caught her and wrestled her onto the ground. She was kicking at him and still laughing but Mikken did not find it funny.
“This has to stop Gendry,” he said quietly.
Gendry flushed very red and he leapt off Arya.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Arya jumped to her feet.
“We didn’t do anything wrong.” Mikken looked to Gendry instead of her. Gendry wouldn’t meet her eye. “I started it,” she told Mikken. “Gendry is my friend. He should not be in trouble.”
Mikken looked uncomfortable.
“You are not a girl any more my lady. These are no longer the games of children.”
Realising what he meant made her angry.
“That is stupid. Tell him Gendry.”
Gendry kept his eyes lowered. A flush crept up his neck.
“Lord Stark has been good to me,” he mumbled.
Mikken nodded.
“I will not tell him of this.”
Arya wanted to shout at both of them. Her father would not care. Her father would understand. He knew Arya was friends with Gendry. Seeing Gendry with that expression, the one where he screwed up his face to think made her even angrier.
“Fine,” she told him. “Be like that. I won’t come here anymore. I have other friends.”
Gendry looked pained but he did nothing to stop her when she stormed out.
*
Arya did not know why things changed. She just knew they did and afterwards there was no going back, even if she wanted to.
Sansa was married and had left Winterfell and in her absence Arya’s lessons somehow become even worse. The septa had made a remark again about her having the hands of a blacksmith and with Jon still gone she found Gendry instead. They kept fighting but it never lasted and he was always there when she needed him.
He wasn’t there this time.
Arya waited for him. It seemed like hours passed and he appeared startled when he found her in his living quarters. He didn’t tell her to go though, even though it was getting late.
“What happened?” he asked.
When she told him he laughed. Arya began to get up, to make a hasty retreat. It still hurt and she did not need him laughing at her. Gendry caught hold of her hand before she could get away.
“See the difference?” Arya sat again and he took her hands in his. “Yours are soft little things.”
Gendry grinned at her and part of her wanted to hit him for it but even though his hands were so much rougher than hers and hard with callouses, they were very gentle. His blue eyes were bright with amusement. Arya looked at his hands holding hers.
“I shouldn’t have m’lady,” he said quickly, pulling away.
Arya wasn’t having it again. She liked him holding her hands. She had held hands with people lots of times before but this felt different. Gendry was different.
“Stupid stubborn,” she muttered, grabbing his wrist.
Gendry looked angry as he tried to pull away from her. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him.
“You’re not for me.”
Arya abandoned her efforts to stop his retreat. She was too shocked. Gendry reddened.
“I ‘m not for anyone,” she blurted.
That seemed to make things worse. Gendry no longer looked angry. Now he just looked sad.
“Leave me be,” he said in a low voice.
Arya moved to do as he asked but it didn’t feel right. She moved slowly and Gendry kept his head turned away. She made it as far as his door before she realised what she said was wrong. She darted back to sit with him again, brushing the hair back where it fell into his eyes and pressed a shy kiss to his cheek.
“If anybody should it is you.”
He tensed and she felt silly but when she made it to his door again and turned back to look he was staring at her. He was staring and smiling more than she had ever seen him smile before.
*
That kiss was not the last. Moons passed after the first but Gendry looked at her differently now. He still argued with her, he was still afraid of her parents and of Mikken and of pretty much anybody finding out but Arya knew how to quieten him.
She felt clumsy and she still felt silly at first. Nobody should want to kiss her. Nobody should want her kissing them. The taunts of horseface still rang in her ears but Gendry did not seem to see that. Gendry wanted to kiss her. When she pressed her lips to his to stop him saying something stupid he responded so eagerly.
“You look nice,” he told her, more than once.
She wasn’t sure at first if he meant it but he had this look when he said it and instead of being so sullen all the time he smiled far more often.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” was another oft repeated phrase.
Arya always replied the same way. “I want to.”
Gendry laughed but it did not stop him looking guilty. On her fifteenth name day they sat together in the godswood, their heads close and their fingers laced together. Gendry sighed.
“Your father has been good to me Arya. He will think me ungrateful.”
“I’m going to tell him,” she decided.
Gendry looked horrified.
“You can’t,” he said with that stubborn look he got. “I need to leave, go and make myself worthy and then I’ll come back for you.”
Arya hated that idea even more.
“I won’t tell him then. Just stay here. Don’t leave me.”
Gendry put his arm around her and she turned to let him kiss her.
“I’ll stay then,” he said in a resigned voice, “but you know it won’t last forever. You are a lady whether you want to be or not.”
Arya knew no such thing but she shut him up once more the best way she knew how.
*
It turned out Gendry was right. She heard her mother speaking of her betrothal not long before her sixteenth name day. When she found Gendry in his room and told him he became more upset than she was.
“I told you,” he said in a low angry voice. “I told you that you weren’t for me.”
Arya wiped roughly at a tear before it could roll down her cheek.
“I’m not for him. I won’t go. I’m staying here.”
Gendry didn’t even seem to hear her. He turned his back to her.
“You need to go Arya. I’m only a blacksmith.”
Arya made him face her again. She kissed him and none too gently. He did not respond, sitting stiffly and sullenly. Arya hit him in the arm.
“You are my blacksmith.”
She began to cry and she hated herself for it but Gendry stopped being angry. He wiped away her tears and held her and when she stopped crying he returned her kisses. He did not push her away when she climbed in his lap. He didn’t stop her when she began to touch him, when she began to unclasp the jerkin he wore. He only began to resist when she began to wriggle out of her own.
“We can’t,” he said hoarsely.
Arya kissed him quiet. “We can.”
He touched her shyly and only briefly before pulling back as though it burned his fingers
“I can’t.”
Arya wriggled in his lap to and smiled when she felt him.
“It seems to me that you can.”
Gendry could not stop staring at her but he looked shamed until she guided his hands to her bared skin again.
“I can see you want to,” she whispered. “I don’t want it to be anybody else.”
She closed her eyes at his caress and the feel of his lips in places no other had ever touched.
“I don’t want anybody else either,” he murmured.
*
It only happened the once but once was enough. Arya might have said bold words to Gendry but now she felt afraid. It was one thing to tell her mother and father that she did not want the betrothal, that she wanted Gendry. It was quite another to tell them there would be a baby.
“I won’t have it be a bastard,” Gendry said stubbornly.
Arya didn’t care about that. Her favourite people were bastards but Gendry was adamant. He loved her and he wanted to marry her. Arya still stalled. It only took a couple more moons and her gowns no longer fit properly.
“I’ll tell your father,” Gendry offered.
“No,” Arya said quickly.
She knew it had to come from her. She just didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. She embraced Gendry once more, pushing his hair back to press her lips to his forehead.
“I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him today.” She thought quickly. “I’ll take some flowers to him. He likes the flowers and maybe then he won’t be so angry.”
Arya went to the glasshouse and gathered some of the winter roses her father seemed to linger over. She found him in the godswood sharpening Ice and took a deep breath. She looked at the heart tree and closed her eyes.
Please you old gods, please don’t let him hate me for this.