A/N: My understanding of bending is based mostly on AtLA (with reference to GoT/ASoIaF lineages), so if you have criticisms based on lore from LoK, I apologize in advance!

You can watch Avatar: The Last Airbender on Netflix, and I highly recommend it! Such a great show, and so ahead of its time. 3 The episode most relevant to this fic is S214 City of Walls and Secrets, but I've tried to include the relevant worldbuilding info into this fic so watching isn't a prerequisite to reading.

As a Stark of the Northern Water Tribe, Arya isn't used to the full on assault on her senses that comes with walking into the Outer Ring of Ba Sing Se. Like everybody else, she knows that the city's craftsmen and laborers are relegated to this part of the immense Earth Kingdom city. The people sport faded, dirty and patched clothing, a sharp contrast to the glittering, cutting edge fashions of the Middle and Upper Rings just a train ride away. But she hadn't expected the smell, though the noise and close quarters she can deal with.

Her eyes water and she stifles the urge to gag. She's a Stark. She will comport herself appropriately or Sansa will never let her hear the end of it. Besides, she's here for a reason: rumor says the strongest qualifying Earthbender works in this part of the city, as a smith.

Because he can metalbend.

Arya just has to see this guy for herself before facing him in the ring. She's gotten her measure of all the others listed as good bets by the bookies, even the Targaryens from the Fire Nation, since they've all been quartered in villas in the Upper Ring. And she thinks she can at least match everybody in terms of power, strategy and speed. Sure, the Targaryens might be able to burn water whips to mere steam, but she's got enough ice mastery that she's pretty confident she'll make it to the second round, at least. That Viserys struck her as all flashy flourishes and hot air anyway, although she really hopes she doesn't have to go up against Daenerys in the first round. And Shireen has that sheer raw Baratheon power, but she's always preferred books over practicing bending so Arya's sure she can physically outlast her, even if she is an Earthbender. She just has to be calm as still water until Shireen tires. The Greyjoys and Arryns are also strong bending families, but she's faced Yara and Robin enough over the years to know what to expect.

This Gendry is a mystery, though the nasty delight that comes with gossip about him makes Arya want to roll her eyes.

Ba Sing Se nobles are the worst.

They're also woefully short on facts about what this guy can actually do, stupidly preoccupied by the wicked, scandalous possibility that this Gendry is likely one of the Earth King's bastards, and living right under the nose of his noble family.

Arya couldn't care less about how this guy's a bender. She just wants to see him in action before she has to take him on.

After all, the honor of House Stark is going to be on her. Sansa had worked hard to qualify, but only so she could have an excuse to come to Ba Sing Se. She's spent the whole trip socializing and shopping: hanging on Margaery Tyrell's every word, getting fitted into the latest Earth Kingdom fashions and learning Queen Cersei's hairstyles. She doesn't care if she gets knocked out of the competition in the first round- she's mostly in this to investigate marriage prospects and buy things they can't easily get in the North: silks, spices and fine Earth Kingdom china.

"I'm playing the long game. You'd be wise to do the same, or you'll end up stuck in the dreary old North forever like Aunt Lyanna."

"I like the North and so does Nymeria. 'Sides, I won't be stuck anywhere if I win that prize money," Arya had pointed out, and Sansa had pursed her lips and conceded.

So she scans the signs as she struggles through the people and wagons clogging the streets. Even in the Outer Ring there are an incredible variety of shops compared to their communities up North. It still boggles her that there is competition for every kind of commodity, whether it be for compasses, cotton or cabbages. And the smith in question, at a place called Mott's, is supposed to be on the Street of Steel- a whole street of smiths to shop for armor and weapons.

Arya can hardly wait to see it all. She just wishes Jon could have come too.

She misses him and Nymeria terribly. It just isn't fair that his mother forbade him from even entering the qualifying rounds, although she understands perfectly well why.

And as amazing as it is, being able to see the majestic grandeur of Ba Sing Se and its wondrously efficient rail system transporting people and goods around; the sheer variety of new foods, colorful people and entertainments, she misses home. She can't wait to breathe clean air again; hunt with Jon and Ghost and Nymeria; pole a longboat down familiar icy canals and get away from this constant seething crowd of humanity. Having to always be aware of which nobles are feuding or friends and how to dodge agendas and loaded topics grates on her last nerve, though Sansa and Father seem to navigate those treacherous waters like they're born to it.

Arya's delighted to leave them to it and pretend to shop today- she's here to bend.

And her eyes narrow like a wolf's, her feet stepping more quickly (but still quietly) once she hears the sound of hammers on steel, sees the gleam of polished shields and armor on display.

Another day, another long list of orders.

Gendry doesn't mind- all the extra work is as good as practice, and Mott's shop has only gotten more since his now infamous performance in the qualification trials. His master had been begrudging with permission to attend the qualifying rounds –hadn't wanted him off a day or two if he got injured, which was a valid enough worry, but Gendry had figured that he could hold his own.

With the sharp upswing in custom, Mott's not been grumbling about being proven wrong at all.

The rumors he tries to ignore. Not like he rubs shoulders with nobles, or even knows what the Earth King looks like. That Shireen Baratheon had been amazing at the qualifiers, but he's just got more stamina, even if her control and crystal work is impressive, especially for someone just old enough to qualify.

It's funny- he's always been able to Earthbend, and never thought a thing about it. Plenty of Earthbenders in Ba Sing Se after all, working the trains and transporting goods and operating the city gates. Bending just saves time and is a lot more efficient and precise. And since he could always feel the metal he was working with the same way he sensed and moved ore and coal, he'd just assumed what he could do was normal.

How was he to know Metalbending was a rare talent? He'd heard the story of how the Earth King defeated the Fire Prince by crushing his chest inside his armor with a single, furious bending move –-they'd all heard it- but he'd figured it was just part of being an Earthbender.

Apparently not. People speculate Baratheon Metalbending has something to do with latent ancestry- some think it's because there were Targaryen ancestors along the way, others think they descend from the gods.

Gendry's pretty sure it's all bullshit.

But it makes him wonder, a little. His mum had been a tavern serving girl, and it's far more likely that she'd got him off some soldier or merchant paying the extra for "a bit of fun", not someone with a rich, noble pedigree like the King. Most of those only deign to go so far as the Middle Ring- servants fetch things from the Outer Ring if needed.

It doesn't matter anyway- Upper Ring denizens might as well be living above the clouds in the Eyrie with how isolated their lives are from the majority of those who live and work in Ba Sing Se. The prize money –-and it's more money than he's ever dreamed of- is all he's really after, and he's sure the spotlight will disappear as fast as it appeared after the tournament.

Which is why he's surprised when a squadron of the Dai Li, faces hidden in the shadows of their uniforms, march into the shop.

Master Mott immediately hurries up front and bows to the noble they're escorting- a tall, serious man with a well groomed beard and mustache who looks around with thinly disguised contempt. The pin he wears indicates that he's not just any noble- he's Lord Tywin Lannister, Grand Secretariat of Ba Sing Se, and the second most powerful man in the city.

What the hell is he doing here? The rich always send their masters of arms to bargain on the Street of Steel. Unless...

"Gendry! Come here!" Mott calls urgently, beckoning.

Aw, shit.

Gendry places the blade he was tempering back into the forge, wipes his hands on his smith's apron, and then approaches with his head bowed, eyeing Lord Lannister warily.

The Grand Secretariat's eyes widen slightly with surprise for an instant before his expression goes back to cold and commanding. "Well, well. So you're Gendry. I hear you're a talented Earthbender."

"Yes, milord. Did well enough at the qualifying trials for the tournament. Will be proud to represent the Earth Kingdom and Ba Sing Se."

"Indeed. Some called you a prodigy when they witnessed what they believed to be Metalbending."

Gendry shrugs uncomfortably. "Not a prodigy just because I can Metalbend. I'm a smith- been working steel since I was a boy. That's got to have more to do with it than what random people I don't even know are saying."

Tywin smiles approvingly. "...You're a skeptic. I appreciate a healthy skepticism- people often fabricate lies to further their own agendas and discredit unpalatable truths. Therefore I have always preferred facts. Proof. So I would like it if you could demonstrate some of your Metalbending talent for me. I can pay handsomely for a commission as compensation. And if your bending is as powerful as rumor touts, I can assure you there will be a place in the Dai Li for you even if you don't end up winning the grand prize in the tournament. We only recruit the most talented benders for our ranks."

Mott's head snaps up abruptly, his mouth opening to protest before he thinks better of it and jerks his head at Gendry to comply.

The faster he gets on with it, the faster they can get back to work. And hopefully not get hauled off to Lake Laogai.

"...You want the signature, then?"

Lord Lannister frowns slightly. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"What everybody orders from us. Blades that look and cut like Valyrian steel."

Lord Tywin Lannister goes perfectly still. And when he smiles Gendry suddenly understands why House Lannister adopted lions as their standard.

"My dear boy, nothing would please me more."

Arya doesn't hurry into Tobho Mott's shop- there are too many beautifully made pieces to look at on the Street of Steel and she makes a note of ones that catch her eye, making non-committal noises when the shopkeepers push the fine bargains to be had in their shops, their shrewd eyes having already assessed the fine materials and construction of her clothing and shoes. She always prefers getting a complete idea of her options before deciding.

There are also two Dai Li standing lookout outside of Mott's, and she knows better than to interfere with whatever official operation they're on- maybe they're doing an arrest.

But they leave soon enough- and Arya frowns when she realizes that Lord Tywin himself is striding among them.

That can't be good.

She mulls over the possible implications as they move crisply back towards the train station, the crowd on the street parting nervously before them. But since there's nothing she can really do besides file the information away for reference, she steps inside once she's sure the coast is clear.

It's dark, cavernous and uncomfortably warm, the walls lined with displays of breastplates and shields with racks of helms, spears and swords under them like the other shops. Unlike the others, the forge at the back is roaring and pumping out heat, and there's a young man working on a sword at the anvil.

Her eyes widen.

The gossips had delighted in pointing out how much Gendry had looked like the Earth King, so she'd been mentally drawing a picture of some fat, lazy brute with a ruddy complexion and an overloud laugh.

He's got thick, black hair and piercingly blue eyes like the king, and he's tall. But that's where the resemblance ends.

He doesn't have an extra ounce of fat on him, which highlights just how muscular he is- especially as he hammers the red-hot blade, focused and relentless until he straightens, satisfied, and sets down his hammer carefully. He's handsome, even if he's covered in sweat and coal dust and his lips are chapped from breathing hard. Her mouth falls open involuntarily when he reaches out, bending, sending a new cluster of coal into the open mouth of the forge before expertly turning the red hot coals inside with a twist of his hand, sending sparks flying across the floor.

She doesn't know what she finds more disturbing- that King Robert might have looked like this once upon a time, or that she's just realized how enthralled she's been when their eyes meet.

"...Can I help you? You lost?" Gendry calls, brow furrowed.

Arya blinks and shakes her head. "No, I- I'm trying to find-" Arya quickly seizes on a plausible excuse, an idea that had been forming as she browsed. "-I'd like a sword for my cousin. Something our local smith can't make."

Gendry gives her a better look and then it's his turn to blink with surprise. "You're from one of the Water Tribes?"

Arya lifts her chin. The blue shades of her clothing are a dead giveaway- maybe she should have borrowed something of Shireen's. Might have helped lower the prices she was quoted earlier, too. "The Northern Water Tribe, yes."

Gendry nods and gestures around the shop. "Normally Master Mott does all the sales talk. He's just left to get our midday meal though- feel free to look around in the meantime, if you like." He puts the blade back in the forge and strides over to the side to get himself a dipperful of water. Arya watches him drink as she pretends to glance through the rack of swords, all too aware of the trickle of water that runs down his Adam's apple and down his chest behind his smith's apron.

She gives him a puzzled look. "You don't mind forging during the hottest part of the day? Our smith likes to do his work in the evenings, so the residual heat can linger at night in the winter, and so he doesn't keel over from the heat in summer."

Gendry wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugs. " Got a list of people waiting on commissions for our blades- if you're going to leave town soon and can't wait, I can recommend most places up the street 'cept Dylan's. We all use good Earth Kingdom ores and finishing techniques."

Arya tilts her head curiously. "What's wrong with Dylan's?"

Gendry lifts a shoulder and gives his head a dismissive shake. "Cores of his blades always feel too brittle. Snap too easily. Gets cold where you're from, yeah? That'll make a broken blade even more likely. Make sure you get one with more flexibility."

Arya nods slowly. "Thanks for the advice. So how long would the wait be? I'd like it tapered, maybe a hand and a half long."

Gendry raises a brow. "Bastard length?"

Arya lifts a shoulder and rolls her eyes. "Started as a stupid joke, but he just got used to it. Prefers the extra length to keep out of people's reach."

Gendry tilts his head, considering. "A week or two? Would be faster normally, but I'll be in the Benders Tournament, so Master Mott can only do guards and pommels while I'm competing, since the blades take both of us to forge."

Arya lowers her eyes guiltily and Gendry's brow furrows again, his eyes finding the flask attached to her belt. "...But then you knew that already, didn't you?"

He just glares at her accusingly for a moment before he suddenly flicks the rest of the water from the dipper at her.

And it's simple reflex, borne of life among Waterbender siblings- her fingers and body immediately redirecting the water into a streamlined flow that she whirls right back to smack him in the face.

Her mouth drops open when he changes posture just as quickly, crouching lower to the ground and bending some sort of rusty rock from the bin on the side to take the impact.

The water splashes against it harmlessly and when she doesn't scoop it up to try to hit him again, he lowers the rock with a scowl, though he's still braced to bend again. "...Checking out the competition, huh?"

Arya shrugs unrepentantly and explains. "Everybody else is quartered in the Upper Ring. And you did so well in the qualifiers that all the nobles are talking about you." She pauses. "Well, that and-"

Gendry cuts her off, glowering. "-Yeah, I know what they're saying. Never even met him, so I think it's a pile of slag."

Arya deliberately hugs herself in the universal bender gesture of ceasefire, meeting his accusing stare. "I really am looking for a present for my cousin," she offers apologetically. "Figured it was two fish in one net."

Gendry blinks. "Is that what Water Tribers say? Not two birds with one stone?" He eases out of bending stance, obviously curious despite himself. "Do all Water Tribe girls know so much about swords? Thought you lot were healers."

Arya gives him a tentative smile- he seems more reluctantly impressed than actually upset. "Some are healers, some are fighters, some are both. There are a lot of predators up north, so it's just practical. Don't girls learn to fight with blades here? Surely they can't all be benders."

Gendry shakes his head, shrugging. "Naw. We'd have a lot more business if they did though, I guess."

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out deliberately, Gendry gestures wearily at the swords on display. "I need to get back to work, but feel free to check the balance and grip on any of these. Like I said, our signature Valyrian steel-like swords have a bit of a wait, but in my opinion, they're worth it. Lighter heft and keeps a keener edge than most anything else out there. And since Old Valyria sank and all, we're the only ones making anything like them."

Arya's mouth falls open.

"...Valyrian steel? You're serious? With the blades that look like ripples of water?!"

Gendry gives her a smug smile. "Wouldn't joke about my work. Here."

He walks over to a locked cabinet and takes out a finely crafted dagger to show her, turning it in the light. "This was a commission, and therefore not for sale, but you can see the ripples- folded steel, that, in fine layers so the blade is flexible and yet still hard enough to cut bone. Master Mott learned to smith in the Fire Nation- he's handled real Valyrian steel before. And he says what I make with Metalbending is just as good. Even if he's puffing it up a bit for sales, I promise it's well-forged steel and should last you a lifetime. Pretty enough for a present too, I'd wager- if you can afford it. Bet Mott will raise the price once the Grand Secretariat gets his commission," he warns, but she can see the pride in his eyes.

Arya nods, rapt. "...It's beautiful. May I?"

It's got a perfect balance and a wicked edge, and the hilt fits perfectly in her hands.

Sansa was right, after all- the shopping in Ba Sing Se alone was worth the trip. She can hardly believe how light it is, as if it isn't steel at all.

She beams at him when she hands it back. "Well, I'm sold. And I should be able to afford one when I win the tournament."

Gendry's eyes widen and he huffs a disbelieving laugh. "...When? How can someone so small be so big for her britches?"

Arya smiles calmly. "You don't know how quick I am."

"Well, you don't know how strong I am."

She raises a brow at him teasingly. "I've got an idea now, though."

Gendry glares. "Well- same!" he declares.

She grins, unrepentant. "We'll just have to see then, won't we? You coming to the tournament banquet tonight? You can get a look at the others, then, too. There'll be loads of stuck up nobles with snippy questions, but the food is actually really good."

Gendry gives her a look of sheer disbelief and scoffs, looking away. "...Because I have something to wear to an actual banquet in the Upper Circle? Naw, I'll be working, same as always."

She blinks, flushing. "Oh. Sorry. I hadn't thought about that."

She looks away, feeling stupid while he locks up the dagger again, scowling.

"...Not your fault," he says finally.

She scuffs her foot against the ground awkwardly. "...Well, if you could put Arya Stark down on your list for two blades, I promise House Stark will be good for it ...even if it takes all my winnings and delays our trip home."

To her relief, that gets an exasperated smile out of Gendry, and he shakes his head. "You're unbelievable, Arya Stark. Fine. I'll tell Mott to put you on the list after Lord Lannister."

She frowns and hesitates, remembering the Grand Secretariat and the Dai Li striding away- her father had explicitly warned them about the Lannisters. "The Grand Secretariat may be a non-bender, but he holds the real power in Ba Sing Se -and possibly the Earth Kingdom itself. You mind your tongue, always- even the walls have ears in the city. His Dai Li agents patrol constantly and we're not risking another war because of a tournament."

But she lifts her chin anyway. "Listen, Gendry. ...You know the Grand Secretariat's daughter is Queen Cersei, right? And therefore his grandchildren are in line for the crown. None of them are decent benders, despite being Baratheons and having all sorts of instructors. It isn't supposed to matter, but... we all know it does. So just... be careful. House Lannister would definitely prefer to bury those rumors."

Gendry gives her a startled look, and she's relieved that he seems to understand exactly what she isn't saying aloud. But after he nods once, he makes a show of shrugging dismissively. "...No way to prove anything, anyway. My mum's been dead for years."

"Yeah, it's probably just gossip," she says lightly, before she stops and gives him a wan smile. "Anyway, I look forward to seeing you at the tournament, Gendry."

He nods seriously and she turns to go, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of disquiet.

Arya can't stop thinking about him as the train leaves the hazy rats maze of the Outer Circle and streets gets wider, homes start getting bigger, and recreational spaces like parks and bender courts appear. And she's rather somber once she spots the towering palace and villas of the Upper Circle- it isn't fair, really- Gendry's going to be competing without the rest and background knowledge the nobly born contenders have.

Normally she'd be gleefully forming a strategy, but this just feels like kicking a boy who's starting on his knees.

An unusually handsome, talented boy.

But she knows the drill now that they've attended a few banquets at the palace, so she doesn't have to think about the steps as she washes the road dust off, re-combs her hair and then carefully puts on the coordinated blue gown, accessories and slippers that Sansa's chosen, pondering whether to tell Father the things she discovered. Part of her thinks she shouldn't burden him with this when he's already struggling to juggle his sister's demands against King Robert's pride and also trying to coordinate their people here while half of them are quartered in the Middle Ring. But surely-

Sansa makes a noise of frustration next to her and turns abruptly. "What's wrong already? This is an incredibly prestigious social event and instead of pestering me with complaints about your outfit and endless questions, you've been quiet as a statue since you got back!"

Arya blinks and frowns. "Nothing! Just- thinking how lucky we have it."

Sansa gives her a perplexed look. "Compared to who? Even the merchants here dine better than us up north."

"Most of the people living in this city don't, though," Arya points out, and Sansa's brow instantly furrows.

She has to give her credit- Sansa's a lot sharper at figuring out angles and people than all her gushing about fashion trends and lemoncakes lets on. "...You went to the Outer Circle today, didn't you? Were you tracking down that Earthbender contender?" Her eyes go round. "You were, weren't you? Can he really Metalbend?"

Arya sighs, busted. "I didn't see him do it, but he says he can, and I believe him. He's definitely at least as good as Shireen- moved heaps of rock with barely a twitch."

Sansa's eyes gleam. "You think the rumors are true, then?"

Arya glances around before carefully nodding and Sansa's mouth drops open with delight before she continues with a disappointed sigh. "Well, I hope I get the first bracket with Robin anyway. He's become even more insufferable than ever and Aunt Lysa can't shriek if I whip his skinny airbender butt in the ring."

Arya smiles wickedly, giving Sansa a sideways look. "As if that's ever stopped her before. Besides, I figured you were hoping for Yara Greyjoy."

Spots of color appear in Sansa's cheeks but she continues serenely applying her makeup. "I don't know what you mean, Arya."

Arya just gives her a knowing look and Sansa rolls her eyes and huffs impatiently.

"Just stop daydreaming already! Father's probably already waiting for us."

It isn't the first time they've been invited to dine at the palace, but it's the first time with so many noble guests from other nations. There are Dai Li everywhere, and Arya's not looking forward to a night of their suspicious stares while fending off the probing questions and sharp tongues of High Society.

Arya's already learned enough from previous banquets to keep her answers as short as possible and to avoid the King and Queen in particular. At least it shouldn't drag on late, since the tournament will commence tomorrow. The Starks have more friends in this place than foes as well- it's hard not to feel sorry for the Fire Nation representatives present, but the Targaryen siblings and their personal security have been model guests.

Arya thinks if there was slightly less scrutiny, she would have liked to try to make friends with Daenerys. Find out things about the Fire Nation, and the Targaryens, for Jon.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to make a little small talk, anyway.

She's making her way over through the crowd when the Arryns find her.

"Arya! There you are! Your father said you didn't join the welcome party because you were out shopping this afternoon," Lysa Arryn pointed out sourly.

Arya smiles despite her dismay and pivots, giving her Aunt Lysa the expected kiss on the cheek. "Aunt Lysa! Yes, I had a custom order that couldn't be deferred, so please accept my apologies. How was your trip to Ba Sing Se?"

"Oh! Dreadful, but over quickly enough, thanks to our skybison. Arya, you remember your cousin Robin?"

"Of course. You're so tall now! Are you excited about the tournament? Sansa and I were thrilled to qualify. Made Robb drill us in forms and techniques until we could do them in our sleep."

Robin smiles smugly, puffing his chest out. He actually looks rather better than the spindly thing he'd been a few years ago, and he's dressed in a finely tailored light grey suit. Doubtless Aunt Lysa is taking this chance to try to snag him an advantageous match too. "Well, I had no trouble at all- I hope you're ready! Can't wait to make you all fly!"

Arya just smiles. "They say words are wind. But then, I guess you'd know all about that."

"'Course! I'm an Airbender, after all," he sniffs.

Arya smiles brightly, resisting the urge to laugh. "Of course. Ah! If you'll excuse me, I must speak with Shireen on an urgent matter. Aunt Lysa, Cousin Robin."

She waves at Shireen and then inclines her head towards them in a polite retreat before walking purposefully towards her friend. She had used perfect society niceties and therefore shouldn't get an earful about it later.

Shireen gives her a mischievous smile. "Look at you dodging out of onerous conversations like an Airbender," she giggles.

"Haha. I had a real reason for talking to you, thank you very much: I know this is the strangest question, but do all contenders get invitations to the tournament banquets?"

She blinks with surprise as she thinks and then nods. "Yes. Of course."

"Even commoners?"

"...Yes?"

"But then how do they afford the formal clothing to attend? And how do they get to the palace if they have no access to a carriage?"

Shireen's eyebrows raise and she blinks seriously as she considers. "Well... historically, the only Earthbender commoners who have qualified for past tournaments have had parents from the merchant class or employed by the city, so I'm assuming their parents paid for all that. But you're speaking about somebody in particular, aren't you?"

Arya makes a face, looking at the glittering crowd and keeping her voice low. "It's not fair. The feast and chance to make social connections are supposed to be the perks of qualifying."

Shireen smiles slightly. "He's impressive, isn't he? Nobody ever uses the chains but Baratheons, but he did in the qualifiers. One of the judges just stood there gaping like a catfish. My father's been trying to make discreet inquiries, but you know how it is."

Arya glances at the Dai Li. "I do. Saw the old lion himself coming out of his shop earlier today."

"Oh. That's troubling." Shireen brightens. "What if I see what Uncle Renly's got in his old closet? Alter a couple of pieces and it'll look like a whole new outfit. Ooh, this might be fun!"

Arya grins. "You sound like Sansa on a project."

"Well, good! Things like this take careful planning and House Baratheon can't make an official move until a declaration is made. Hmm. I can pitch in some of my pin money so he can hire a carriage. But really, all that is moot if someone simply removes the player before the act is done. Best speak to your father soon, I think." She suddenly smiles wide to cover her murmur. "Incoming."

"Cousin! Why are you skulking over here with a Stark?" Prince Joffrey demands, strutting over and angling his hip so they can all see the flashy new dagger on his belt.

Arya pastes another fake smile on and makes noises of admiration.

Shireen's analyses are rarely wrong. And that means she's got to move quickly and quietly.

Gendry's been to the Middle Ring before, in the past. His mum would say they were splurging, and they'd take the train to buy something from a fancy shop there or go to a restaurant. One especially memorable time, they'd gone to the zoo.

He'd eaten ice cream and gawped at all the armadillo-bears, bull antelope and dragon flies. And he'd fallen asleep against his mum on the train ride home.

But it's been ages, and he feels strange flashing the train pass he'd been issued instead of getting a single use ticket. And it's odd to realize the seats are a lot smaller than they'd been in his memory.

Hot Pie barely fits, although he lets out an excited sigh and beams at the other passengers after he puts the sack of snacks next to him. Lommy sits next to Gendry, spreading the poster nervously across his knees and pointing to the relevant information.

"Right. So odds are, you'll be fighting a Waterbender today –-there's three of 'em- or a Firebender, cause there's two. The Airbender's going to be a wildcard- I thought they were practically extinct, but I guess they needed one present to make it a real tourney. Anyway, the only straight fight would be the Baratheon girl, and that's not likely to happen. Single elimination, so if you lose, you don't advance to the next round. Standard rules: nothing lethal; can't bring any extra materials into the ring. Knock your competitor from the ring, or immobilize them to take the win."

Gendry nods. "Any bookie talk about the contenders?"

Lommy makes a face. "That's the problem with them all being foreigners- barely anything to go on. Hopefully you get drawn last so you can see some of the others in action first. Don't like the odds of this, Gendry."

Gendry gives him a derisive look. "Well, too late now. Just tell me what you got."

"Them Stark girls had an aunt that won the tournament at Harrenhal before the War, yeah? So she might have taught them a few tricks- ice manipulation especially is supposed to be a Northern Water Tribe technique. The Greyjoys are supposed to be fishermen or pirates or something, so she'll probably stick to hitting you with waves or waterwhips. Probably less water in the ring than what she's used to, so that might be an advantage?"

He taps on the Targaryen names. "I'm guessing they'll be typical Firebenders- all offense all the time. And Airbending is supposed to be the opposite- all evasion, very little offense. Probably hard to pin down, and he might, like, levitate instead of hitting the ground outside the ring, so might be smarter to bury him. But that's all I got."

Gendry nods and exhales nervously. "Right then."

Once they get to the stadium, he's been instructed to show his pass, which works like magic. He barely has time to wave to Hot Pie and Lommy before he's escorted through the crowd and up to the center, where he spots some of the others -including that pretty Arya girl- already seated on some kind of stage. She's sat next to a redhead, who must be her sister, the way they eye each other and smile as if they read each other's minds. Arya lifts her fingers in a little wave, and he inclines his head slightly and gives her a half smile. On the other side of her, also dressed in blue gear but with a markedly different pattern, is a tough looking brunette who must be Yara Greyjoy.

The others are easy enough to figure out- Robin Arryn has to be the only one dressed in grey and the Targaryens in red with their silver-blond hair and purple eyes look like something out of a history book, and Gendry has to remind himself not to stare. Shireen Baratheon he's met briefly before, and she smiles encouragingly as he moves to take the vacant seat next to her.

"Good luck, Gendry," she says softly, and Gendry gives a nod back.

"Same. Earthbending's better than all their's anyway, isn't it?"

She dimples. "Absolutely."

There's a sudden blaring of trumpets, and Gendry realizes the ceremony has started because the King and Queen have just entered the arena, and therefore everybody has risen to their feet as the music plays. Once they take their seats on the stage, everybody else is allowed to sit again.

Gendry glances over curiously- he supposes he's black haired and tall like the king, but they're built nothing alike otherwise. He can recognize his drinker's nose from here, and he finds he's actually rather annoyed at the rumors.

Then the Grand Secretariat goes up to make a speech about the proud history of tournaments and international cooperation, and Gendry starts searching the seats for his friends, only half paying attention. The crowd is mostly dressed in Earth Kingdom colors, so it's slow going, and he finally finds them up high and far back just before the draw for the brackets starts.

The Grand Secretariat shuffles the cards with ceremonial seriousness and then King and Queen both draw one each before turning and placing them up on the board behind them, the audience going silent and expectant.

Round 1: Daenerys Targaryen vs. Sansa Stark

There's a chorus of both whistles and boos as both girls stand and bow to the King and Queen and then each other. Then the ceremony continues, with another shuffle and draw of the name cards.

Round 2: Arya Stark vs Robin Arryn

There's only polite applause as they stand. Arya smiles and bows politely but the Airbender merely bobs his head at her. Seems like they know each other somehow too.

Round 3: Yara Greyjoy vs. Shireen Baratheon

Shireen and Yara are both models of polite sportmanship, although the noise from the crowd is deafening. King Robert himself shouts, "my darling niece!" and Shireen blushes as the crowd roars again.

There's already people starting to chat in the audience because they can deduce the last bracket for themselves, but the king simply continues with the ceremony and places Viserys Targaryen's name card up on the board.

Queen Cersei smiles stiffly, not reaching for the last card that's got to have his name on it. Lommy will be pleased anyway- last bracket means they'll get to watch everybody else go first. "Surely we shouldn't have two boys fighting each other when there are actually more girls in the pool of contenders. Perhaps a redraw-"

"Don't be an idiot, woman! The brackets have to go up randomly," King Robert rebukes her angrily, and he plucks the card up with disgust himself and slaps it on the board.

Round 4: Viserys Targaryen vs. Gendry (Earthbender, BSS)

Gendry doesn't understand why Queen Cersei's lips are pressed tightly together and Tywin Lannister looks thunderous. In fact, Arya and her sister and even Shireen Baratheon are staring with horror at the board too. But he stands and bows like he's supposed to, not bothered that Viserys looks smugly delighted and barely dips his head at him.

King Robert is gesturing at the board with obvious excitement, and the audience is cheering. They're actually cheering really loud, and Gendry realizes that it might be for him- because he's an Earthbender from Ba Sing Se.

Strange to realize. Nice, too.

He grins at Hot Pie and Lommy where they're shouting and waving wildly in the stands. This might actually be fun.

"May the best bender win!" King Robert roars, and the crowd roars his words back.

A/N: This should be a two-shot if all goes as planned! Please leave a review if you liked the fic thus far! Or ya know, if you have THOUGHTS about where this is all going. :DDDD