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Robert Baratheon left with Gendry’s contact details and a promise that he’d soon be in touch.
He didn’t hear from Robert again until the media somehow connected them just as videos of him and Melisandre began to surface online, getting picked up by every news outlet.
“Robert Baratheon’s Bastard: Like Father, Like Son” they screamed, flooding social media.
Melisandre, who’d left The Red Woman and was valiantly trying to launch her flagging solo career, did interview after interview about her torrid week with Gendry suggesting in no uncertain terms that should he want to get in touch with her, she certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Gendry realised that it was because she probably expected him to have heaps of money now. Robert was richer even than the Starks.
Gendry found Arya scowling at her phone one morning in the staff common room. He snuck a look over her shoulder. It was an opinion piece on the Westerosi business leaders and their irrepressibly badly behaved bastards, complete with unflattering photos of all four men with their companions - Robert and some scantily clad dancer, Gendry and Melisandre at the festival, her father together with her impeccably dressed mother, and her beloved brother, Jon caught in a tryst with his latest girlfriend, Ygritte.
“I hate that your family has been dragged into this, Arya,” said Gendry angrily, making her jump.
“And I hate that you’re finding out what it feels like to be one of us all of a sudden.”
“It’s so awful that they feel like they own anyone who steps out of line.”
Arya shrugged.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She shoved her last bit of toast into her mouth and her phone into her back pocket. “Make sure we’re not late to meet this caving group?” she suggested. “Got your gear?”
Gendry nodded. “I’m looking forward to hiding my face in the depths of the earth for a few hours.”
Arya nodded grimly. “You and me both.”
Arya and Gendry always took it in turns to provide the commentary as they led their group through the caves, pointing out stalactites and stalagmites and other amazing rock formations as they travelled deeper and deeper underground. Gendry’s favourite moment of every week’s tour was when they sat at the bottom of whichever cave it was and got everyone to turn their torches out so city dwellers could experience what real darkness felt and sounded like.
He knew that Arya was sitting just to his left when they turned off the lights. It gave him hope that hers was the hand that found his knee and that eagerly intertwined fingers with his when he covered it with his own. He gently took the hand in his own and brought it to his lips, making sure his kiss was so soft, it wouldn’t make a sound in the silent darkness.
When at last he heard her voice right beside him announcing that the group could light up their torches once more, he confirmed that no one else’s hand could possibly have gotten close enough. He also confirmed a pink flush on her cheeks and noted the sweet smile she flashed him.
Hours later when they emerged from the cave at last to renewed cell phone coverage, both his and Arya’s phones blew up with notifications. They gave one another a worried glance.
“Don’t look yet,” Gendry whispered. “Let it wait till we get back to the hostel.”
Arya nodded. “Good plan.”
They sent two other staff members ahead to lead the group home and dawdled behind with the flimsy cover of gathering their minimal equipment. It all fit inside one small backpack which Gendry slung over his shoulder. He offered his other hand to Arya who took it shyly.
“Did I catch you fondling my knee in the dark earlier?” he asked playfully.
“No,” she replied, batting her eyelids. “Maybe it was that Loras guy?”
Gendry chortled. “Maybe it was. I guess I’ll never know.”
“You’d think that kiss on the knuckles might have elicited more of a reaction from him,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“Phew,” he laughed. “So it was you.”
Arya grinned.
He wanted to ask if this meant she’d decided to trust him again but he was afraid of hearing her deny it. Maybe it was just enough for her that they were stuck in similar family nightmares. Either way, he’d cheerfully accept her affection and forbid himself from asking questions.