Chapter Text
“Now, you go through your bag once you’re at the hotel and you text me immediately if you need us to bring you anything, got it?” Asha said, handing them both their duffel bags from the trunk of her car. She turned around to check the back seat to make sure no one had left anything behind. “Actually, on second thought, could ya just text me either way to let me know? Maybe when your flight lands too?”
Arya nodded. “Got it, Greyjoy.” A part of her wished that Asha was joining them sooner. Her roommate had only one or two local competitions under her belt, but she was organized and surprisingly good at calming down even the most nervous first-time competitors. Usually through a mixture of scathing humor and dirty jokes, but whatever works, I guess.
“Good, good,” Asha replied, then gave Arya and Gendry both quick hugs before getting back into her car and rolling down the passenger window. “See you Saturday evening!”
The flight went smoothly, though Gendry ribbed her a little bit for allowing the male flight attendant to help her lift her duffel bag into the overhead compartment.
Not gonna do very well on Sunday if you can’t even overhead press your clothes for the weekend.
Hah, real funny, Gendry. Not all of us can be as tall as you.
Arya texted Asha when they touched down in Kings Landing, and they quickly made their way on the train downtown, to the hotel and convention center where they have a good chunk of SSC-reserved hotel rooms and where she’ll be competing in a little under 48 hours. After checking in at the hotel, she texted Asha again, letting her know that all her things were successfully packed and she hadn’t forgotten anything important, like her lifting shoes or her singlet. The rest of Friday is spent getting lunch at Whole Foods, then groceries from there as well, checking in for the competition and attending the meeting for all lifters that evening. After being thoroughly lectured on the schedule of the weekend, they spent the remainder of the evening walking around the fitness expo, Arya quickly getting a tote bag from a vendor and proceeding to fill it up with as many free samples as it would hold. It’s the biggest event happening downtown that weekend, and a line of food trucks was lined up out front of the main entrance, along with people handing out coupons for nearby restaurants.
“You know you can’t eat any of that tonight?” Gendry said, noticing Arya eyeing a truck offering all sorts of foods he thought had no right to be deep-fried. “I don’t care if you’re already under 58, I’m not risking your stomach being upset tomorrow. Never had a clue why half this food is here anyways, looks like the damned state fair.”
“Oh, come on. I heard that fried Twinkies are awesome pre-meet nutrition,” she said, smiling at him when she noticed the horrified look on his face, then bumping into him with her shoulder. Instead, they spend the rest of Friday night sitting on the extra queen bed in Arya’s room, eating the Whole Foods pre-made salads they bought earlier and watching re-runs of Westerosi Pickers.
The day before her session was always the calm before the storm, and she knew this, and was glad that Gendry had picked up on that as well. He did his best to distract her until her family and the rest of their group arrived that evening – they walked around downtown, visited the modern art museum, and made it to the aquarium in time to watch the penguin feeding. They met everyone in the lobby later that evening, the first stop being a quick loop around the expo again so they could check out the vendors, Gendry having to stifle a laugh when he saw Sansa and the rest of the Stark siblings filling up tote bags of freebies like they’re out trick-or-treating. Afterwards, her parents ordered carry-out delivered to the hotel, and Arya was only a little bit grumbly about having to eat her prep food while everyone else had pizza.
The next morning, Gendry met her in the lobby at quarter to six, and left her to run to Starbucks as she got in the line to wait for her turn at weigh-in. When he returned, he was just in time to hear her name called and sees her grab her wallet out of her duffel bag before heading into the office that served as the women’s weigh-in room. She made quick work of weigh-in, less than five minutes inside the room, and he had to stop himself from wondering how she’s able to undress so quickly. Coming out of the office, she proclaimed herself good to go, under by almost a full kilo. “I could’ve had dessert last night,” she said as they walked to the warm-up area and grabbed a platform to have for her warm-up sets.
“You can eat now,” Gendry replied. He opened the soft-sided cooler he’d shoved into this luggage, now filled with snacks and the homemade protein bars that Mrs. Stark had brought with her. He grabbed out the plastic bottle of fruit punch flavored Pedialyte, giving it a shaking and opening it, before he handed it over to Arya along with the coffee he’d purchased for her while she was in line for weigh-in. “Here, electrolytes and caffeine. Start to work on that and then get some food into you.” He pulled a notebook and pen out of his duffel bag and flipped open to the page with her warm lifts on it, dog-eared from last night’s final review.
She finished her food and started her stretching and mobility work, pausing for a bit when her parents came by to tell her they were all ready and had gotten their seats, and wish her luck. Her dad didn’t try to give her any advice or coaching, instead he just looked at Gendry and nodded. Her declared openers meant that she was farther back in her session, giving her extra time to eat some more and work on her warm-ups since she wouldn’t have her opener until the majority of other lifters had already finished.
Her snatches went well, going three for three, but in the end she’s tied with Lyanna Mormont, another competitor from the North who Arya had known since well before either of them had started to compete, and for all intents and purposes was her main competition. When she and Gendry had discussed her lifts for the final time this morning as they walked to the weigh-in line, they decided that Arya wouldn’t make an attempt at the 93 kilo snatch record that day, instead they agreed to set her up for her third attempt to be 90 kilos. Through the last handful of weeks, even though Arya’s jerk had improved, her confidence in the lift still lagged behind, and Gendry had the feeling that while the snatch record was in her reach, he didn’t want to chance her missing it and then having it wreck her confidence going into the clean and jerk, where she would really need it.
Her clean and jerk opener went smoothly, like they’d planned, purposely picking a number they both knew that she would have no problem to hit. Arya saw the three white circles light up as she walked off the platform, breathing out a sigh of relief. That’s right, you know how to do this. You do this every single day. She took her place next to Gendry’s empty spot in the row of folding chairs reserved for lifters that were up soon, nodding her head as he walked by and held up three fingers. She put her headphones around her neck, watching him inform the judges of her next attempt. He came back and took the empty spot next to her, and draped his SSC hoodie over her legs to keep her warm.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright, you looked good out there.”
“No advice?”
Gendry shook his head. “Relax. Listen to your music. You’ve got a few minutes.”
He nudged her arm about five minutes later when the announcer called her up next. They walked to the side of the platform together as the clock started its countdown, Gendry waiting only a few seconds before she nodded her head and walked into the spotlight. Worry didn’t cross his mind as he watched her normal pre-lift routine that even he’s got memorized now – chalking up her hands, quickly slapping her thighs twice, and approaching the bar. He didn’t need to see her to know that she’s dead center between the knurling, that she’s closing her eyes for a split second, or that by the time she’s got her hands in around the bar that all other thoughts in her mind are gone. She made the clean without a problem, adjusted her hands just a smidge wider, and went into her jerk. From where he stood off to the side of the platform, the viewing angle wasn’t great, but his eyes are going back and forth between the bar over her head and the judges’ expressions. It looked alright from what he saw, but he has seen many lifts in the past that looked good from one angle, but not from another. Shit, I’ve got a bad feeling about this, he thought, seeing the slightest change in expression on the far left judge’s face. He tried to see if the center judge gave any clues, but with his arm raised, he can’t see the man’s face. The down signal came and Arya dropped the bar, then sent her attention to the row of three unlit circles, waiting for them to light up.
White, red, red.
She stalked off stage, careful not to show how upset she was, but she knew that everyone from SSC sitting out in the audience could see right through her. Gendry patted her on the shoulder as he walked by, heading closer to the edge of the stage instead of following after her. He made eye contact with the center judge and quirked an eyebrow up in question, watching him as he raised his left arm and tapped his elbow to show that she hadn’t locked out on that side. She stopped, undoing the clasp on her lifting belt as she waited for him once she saw he was confirming the error.
“What do you say, Arry?” Gendry asked when he walked back to where she stood, but she was pretty sure he was just speaking aloud hypothetically. “You were way too close to making that lift to stay… I say we increase like we had planned. You feel good with that?”
He guided her back to the folding chairs behind the tall curtain off to the side of the platform, urging her to sit down and rest. In the background, they could hear the announcers call for the volunteers to tighten up the weight for her to follow herself for her third attempt. “Yea, we’re increasing. Go tell ‘em.”
“That’s my girl,” Gendry said, smiling at her, then walking over to the announcer’s table to alert them to her plan to increase. Her stomach did a weird little flip-and-twist to hear him refer to her as his girl, but she shoved that feeling down, ignoring it since now was definitely not the time. As Gendry walked back, she heard the announcers telling everyone about the changes, and put her headphones on to wait until it was her turn. He sat down next to her and put the hoodie back across her lap.
Stop the clock, there’ll be an increase in weight and change in lifters. Loaders, please increase the bar to 112 kilos. Sarella Sand is up next for her third attempt, Lyanna Mormont on deck, Arya Stark in the hole.
He watched her get comfortable beside him, pulling up the hoodie and stretching out her legs as they waited. Sand’s lift was good, three white circles, and he thought about telling Arya, but decided against it. Sand had no more attempts after that, and Gendry doubted she’d make the team this year unless something catastrophic happens. At two years younger than Arya, he can tell she’s one to look out for. The loaders came out to increase the weight up to 114 kilos for Mormont’s lift, also her third and final attempt. He watched as Mormont made the lift, a little shaky on the pull and looking like she might not make it up and out of the hole, but her jerk goes perfectly. It was in that moment that Gendry realized something that both of them had neglected to remember, and he cursed himself in his head before turning to her. Arya jerked her head up when she felt Gendry’s hands on her knees. She had been so zoned out and into her music that she hadn’t even noticed him get up from the chair next to her. He had bent to kneel down in front of her, and she slipped her headphones off so they hung around her neck.
“Arya, you need to increase.”
“Huh?” she asked. In the background, she heard the announcer ask the bar loaders to tighten up the bar for her lift. “I am increasing. 3 kilos, Gendry, like we said.”
“No, you need to increase more if you want to win. If you go out there at 114 and make it, Lyanna still wins since she got it first.” Arya’s eyes widened in understanding. She knew the rules – if two lifters in the same weight class both successfully made the same weight lift, the win went to whoever made the lift first. “What do you want to do? Kilo up?” Gendry asked. She exhaled, and shook her head.
“Two,” she replied, watching the look appear on his face and knowing he understood what she’s going for. He pats her on the knee than walks over to the judges’ table, leaning down to speak to the head announcer.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have a change in weights. Loaders, please increase the bar to 116 kilos. Arya Stark will be going for a new Westerosi national record with this lift,” the announcer explained, then waited a few seconds watching the bar loaders. “The bar is set, clock begins now.”
Arya was vaguely aware of what the announcer was saying in the background, instead concentrating on Gendry as he walks back from the judges’ table. “Okay, Arya,” he started, voice calm and even, reaching out a hand to help her up from the folding chair. The clock continued to countdown from sixty seconds as he walked with her to the edge of the curtains. When they stopped, he paused behind her, placing his hands on her biceps and bending down so she could hear him. “You don’t need any more coaching from me. You do this every day, you’re ready, and I believe in you. Now go show everyone else.”
Arya let out a breath and nodded, adjusting her belt as she made her way the last couple steps to the platform. Just going through the motions now, she thought, quickly chalking up her hands and glancing at the countdown clock. 38 seconds, plenty of time. She got into position behind the bar, taking a second to focus before starting to pull. Gendry looked on from the sidelines, but when she cleaned the bar, it’s textbook, none of the issues with the pull like Lyanna had.
Weight in your heels, she heard, not certain if it’s a voice in her head or Gendry yelling cues off to the side. She pushed out of the bottom of her front squat, adjusting her grip and foot position slightly when she’s standing up fully. Almost done, just dip, drive, extend fully, drop under, and lock those arms out.
Dip, drive, drop, lock.
Dip, drive, drop, lock.
She closed her eyes for a quick second to envision herself making this jerk.
XxXxX
She’s ten, and it’s the first time her father gave her the 15 kilo women’s bar to work with. It’s only got a few change plates loaded on the ends but she sees how proud he is of her and she beams back at him. Dip, drive, drop, lock. Perfect. “See, daddy, I told you I was ready.”
She’s fifteen and is hanging around the Winterfell high school weight room, waiting for her girlfriend Mya to get out of detention. She’s in her gym clothes, doing some of her light accessory work while her cousin Jon and the rest of the football team are squatting. She hears someone say something about how they shouldn’t let little girls like her in the weight room, and she sees red. “What’d you say, Blount?” she asks, immediately knowing who it was.
“Said I bet you can’t even deadlift what I’ve got on the bar here for my squats,” he replies, and she sees Jon shake his in the background, because he knows what’s coming.
It’s all pounds in the weight room, so she adds up what he’s got on the bar and does some quick mental math to do the conversion – 70 kilos. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Arya says as she walks over to him. “No, you don’t need to move it.”
She walks up to the squat rack and gets positioned to walk backwards with the bar in front rack position, it’s a racked a bit too high for her, but she makes it work, stepping back two foot lengths. “…the hell is your cousin doing, Snow?”
“Embarrassing your dumb ass,” is all Jon says. How Blount doesn’t know what their family is known for is beyond him.
Dip, drive, drop, lock. Perfect, Arya thinks. She drops the bar and walks out to see if Mya is done yet, middle finger raised behind her and she can hear the laughter aimed at Blount as she leaves.
She’s twenty, and it’s the meet where she met Gendry for the first time. It’s a charity meet, though she can’t remember the cause, rescuing puppies or feeding orphans in Essos or some heart-string tugging cause like that, but she remembers the way she felt him watching her. She’s been to youth and junior nationals, so Arya knows what the crowd’s gaze and the spotlight feels like, but this is different. He’s watching her with precision as she goes through her warm up stretches off to the side. It’s her last clean & jerk attempt, and she’s going conservative, since there’s a more important meet in a month or so, but the damn jerk still makes her nervous. The clean is fine, powered even, and her dad’s voice is in her head. Dip, drive, drop, lock. She hears Gendry’s cheers before she hears the buzzers from the judges. Good lift.
XxXxX
She opens her eyes and is transported back to the present. It’s now or never, and she knows she can’t be standing there under weight for long, she’ll get fatigued from just holding it. Arya inhales, feeling her stomach full of air braced against the constraints of her leather belt.
Dip, drive, drop, lock.
She feels locked out and her arms are shaking, almost vibrating, as she comes out of the bottom of her jerk and brings her feet together, pressing up into the bar as high as she can. The judge signals down and she drops the jerk finally. It’s a matter of seconds before she’ll know the judges’ decision, but it always feels like forever, especially when she’s not one-hundred percent certain that she’s got it.
But then it happens – one, two, then three white circles light up and it’s over.
Her stoic look is gone as her jaw drops for a quick moment before understanding dawns and the excitement hits her, a smile breaking out across her face. She gives a quick nod to the judges as she turns to leave the platform.
Arya hears the audience clapping, and thinks she hears that annoying whistle thing Margaery can do, but it’s all white fuzzy background noise as she bounds off the platform, leaping at Gendry who stops clapping just in time to catch her as she jumps to hug him. He doesn’t miss a beat as her legs wrap around his waist.
“And that’s it, folks, Arya Stark is the new Westerosi national record holder for the 58s!”
Arya thinks she’s going to cry, but in reality she can’t contain her laughter. Gendry still has her seated around his waist, and her first is raised over her head in triumph like Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club. Camera flashes are going off all around her, and she knows plenty are from Sansa snapping pictures on their mother’s DSLR, and that this moment will be on a frame on the mantle soon. She pulls her head out from beside Gendry’s to see his reaction, and there’s this look of pure awe across his face.
“You did it, Arya,” he says.
“We did it, Gendry,” Arya replies, correcting him. They’re so close, him still holding her up and her arms lazily around his shoulders, maybe only a few inches separating their faces. Her pulse is racing, going a mile a minute and her heart feels like it’s about to jump straight out of her chest, and she’s unsure if it’s from the adrenaline rush she’s got from making that lift, or something else. “I’m your number seven.”
Maybe it’s the excitement of the moment getting to her, or the way he’s looking at her like he’s seeing something wonderful for the first time, or maybe it’s just been long time coming, but Arya thinks, the hell with it, moving both her hands to the sides of his face.
“Lucky me,” he starts to say, but he’s barely got the first word out of his mouth before she pulls him in, closing the inch or two gap and bringing her lips to his. He stills for a moment, surprised since she’s cut off his sentence, but he quickly returns the kiss, moving one arm up from her thighs to the back of her head, eager to match the emotions she was putting in. Gendry’s not sure if this is just celebratory, brought on by the adrenaline of her new national record and placement on the team for Worlds, or something more, but he’s going to take whatever she’s willing to give him at the moment, and ask questions later.
He hears people coming up behind them and pulls away, resting his forehead against hers. “I knew you could do it, Arya.”
“Thank you,” she says, then kisses him again before everyone rushes up.
“Go give your fan club a hug and then let’s get you a medal.” He finally sets her back down to the ground and lets the large group of family and friends engulf in her a group hug. He sees Margaery say something to her and watches as Sansa blushes and Arya laughs, a mischievous smile on her face, and he’s willing to bet money that Maggy just said something highly inappropriate about their very public display of affection.
A few minutes later and she’s onstage, gold medal hanging around her neck as she stands atop the podium. She’s swarmed by news reporters when she steps off and comes to the side again, excitedly answering their questions but sneaking glances over to where Gendry is standing with the rest of their group. The announcer comes on the speaker system a few minutes later, alerting everyone to the start of the next session in ten minutes, and asking for everyone except athletes and coaches to leave the area.
She goes back to Gendry, standing by himself with her duffel bag repacked and slung over his shoulder, and he hands his SSC hoodie to her. Arya pulls it over her head and reaches inside the neck, grabbing her medal out and placing back on her chest.
“So, what do we do now?”
“Everyone else is headed back up to their rooms to give you some time to shower and change,” he explains as they walk out of the warm-up area and into the main convention center hallway. “I assume we’ll grab lunch and then our flight leaves at –”
She stops abruptly in the middle of the hallway, reaching out to grab his hand. “That’s not what I meant.”
He pauses for a second before he replies. “That’s up to you.” She looks up at him, smiling, and they start walking again. “But I’d like to take you on a real date when we get back to Winterfell.” He pulls their hands up and kisses the back of hers, reveling in how she blushes. “Something that doesn’t involve coaching or being at the gym.”
“I think I’d be okay with that.” He watches as she walks next to him, eyes straight forward and left hand in his. Her right hand keeps going up to grab her medal, closing around it, flipping it over and back again, maybe trying to remind herself that it’s actually real. “But first, I’d like a Frappuccino. And donuts… oh! And Chipotle.”
“Gotta get it in before training for Worlds starts, huh?” Gendry replies. They’re at the main elevators in the lobby now, waiting for the next available one. “You’re going to Worlds, Arya. Worlds.” The door opens and they let out a couple before going inside.
She leans against the wall of the elevator, tugging his hand to get his attention and get him to look at her before she speaks. “No, we are going to Worlds. Both of us,” she tells him firmly. She goes up on her tippy-toes to kiss him again, and he’s there, meeting her halfway.