Chapter 1: Other dreams
Chapter Text
Change is not really something you notice. Not when it happens to you. To your very essence of being. To how you think, act, and perceive yourself and the world around you. It just happens as time pass. And suddenly one day you look at yourself and realize you are someone else. When you are back where you once were and everything is the same except you.
Gendry had been there before. In front of the Cross Roads Inn.
The first time he was a bastard blacksmith running for his life. Accompanied by a young girl who he would come to love. He had been scared, defiant, and free.
The second time he was a newly minted lord thrown into a life he knew nothing about. Whose heart had just been broken by the same young girl. He had been confused, unsure, and alone.
But now, the third time, he was an established lord going to war for his family. So in love with the woman by his side. He was assured, determined, and loved.
Everything was the same, except him.
They stood at the last respite before it was time to fight.
Hand in hand. A lord and his lady. Gendry and Meera Baratheon.
The Baratheon troops were camped out nearby, preparing for the battle that was ahead. They had been on the road for about a week and the next day they would arrive at the Neck. To fight for Meera's homeland. To fight for freedom. To fight for their children. The ones who would inherit her lands one day.
But it wasn't time to fight just yet.
The ground was muddy from rain the night before. The courtyard was littered with people, animals, garbage. Tents were all around them. There was nowhere else to go for these people so those tents were now their homes.
It looked worse than when Meera had been there with her father and the other lords. So recently but yet so long ago. Everything had changed since. The kingdom had shattered. Young men had been broken. And she had given up what she never thought she could forsake. She had given up her title and last name to save her lands. She had given them up for love.
Gendry surveyed the people gathered in the courtyard, pondering if he recognized anyone. They were all refugees from the capital. They were all people he had lived among not long ago.
But as he stood there, dressed up as a lord, with his armies in tow, holding the hand of his lady, he realized he didn't feel like one of them anymore. He felt like Lord Gendry Baratheon. The son of Robert Baratheon. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had stopped pretending and actually became who he never thought he would be.
"I want you to meet a friend of mine," he said to his wife. "From before. When I wasn't who I am now."
Meera nodded and squeezed his hand.
"I'd like to meet him," she said. "And I have a friend here too. She helped me when I had escaped from the Neck before I came to you."
Hand in hand they walked up to the stairs to the tavern. They had walked those stairs before, but never together.
They were greeted by the smell of newly baked bread as they entered. The interior still looked the same, wood details and flowers on the tables. Despite the world shattering outside its doors, it was always the same. Unchanging in an ever-changing world.
The place was the same but the two people entering were not.
Gendry spotted his friend behind the counter as soon as they walked in. But for a moment it seemed like Hot Pie didn't recognize him anymore. Gendry didn't look different but perhaps he acted differently. More assured of his role in the world. More like a lord.
A moment later it dawned on Hot Pie who the visitor was. He walked up to Gendry with a smile on his face. And he kneeled in front of him. Gendry had not expected that.
"Lord Paramount Baratheon," Hot Pie said, bowing his head. "It's an honor having you here."
"Get up, you silly idiot!" Gendry replied.
Hot Pie got up quickly, his cheeks flushed red. Apparently, he had no clue how to act in front of a lord. Or he did but didn't know how to adapt when the lord in question was his childhood friend.
"Sorry," he muttered, looking down at the floor.
"It's not Lord Paramount Baratheon anyway," Gendry said. "It's Lord Baratheon or Gendry Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."
"I apologize... Lord Baratheon."
Gendry put his arms on his friend's shoulder.
"Hot Pie, for you it's Gendry," he said. "And it always will be."
Hot Pie finally looked up at him and smiled. Gendry put his arms around his friend. It didn't matter who they were in this world, they were friends. That's what mattered.
"I didn't come here to have you kneel to me, my friend," Gendry continued. "I came here to introduce you to my wife."
Hot Pie looked up, astounded. This reveal seemed to have piqued his interest.
"You're married?" he asked.
Gendry nodded and held up his hand that was still holding Meera's, Hot Pie had apparently not noticed her standing next to him.
"This is Lady Meera Reed," he said. "My wife."
Meera smiled at the burly man in front of her.
"Baratheon," she whispered to her husband.
"What?" he replied in a confused tone.
"I'm Lady Meera Baratheon. I'm married to you, dear husband, so I have your last name."
"Oh right..."
Meera decided to ignore the fact that her husband had forgotten that they now shared a last name and instead paid attention to the husky man in front of her.
"I'm glad to see you again," she said. "Thanks for your help last time."
"You know each other?" her husband asked.
"Yes, he helped me before. When I escaped to get help. He and his wife, Annie. I met her when I was here with my father. She took in the cat I found in the capital... when I sneaked out from your tent."
"You're married too?" Gendry asked Hot Pie, just as astounded as his friend had been a moment ago.
Hot Pie nodded and smiled.
"I got married soon after you were here last time," he replied. "We have a cottage down by the river with a bakery in the back. Annie is there now. I'm only here to drop off today's load of pies to the tavern."
Gendry smiled back and put his hand on his friend's shoulder again.
"So we're both married," he said. "Who would have thought? Apparently somewhere along the way we both became men... and we found women who could stand us well enough to marry us."
"I think I can still stand you," Meera said and leaned in and kissed her husband. And as always when they kissed they had trouble stopping.
Hot Pie looked down onto the ground as the kissing continued in front of him.
"You two should come over and see our home," Hot Pie said in a desperate attempt to interrupt the action. "It's just a cottage though. So much simpler than what you two are used to."
Gendry and Meera reluctantly paused their kissing.
"Hot Pie," Gendry said. "You know I'm used to much less than that. There's nothing wrong with a cottage."
***
There certainly was nothing wrong with a cottage.
It was small but well-cared for. Log walls and a roof of grass. A rickety fence around it. Curtains in the windows. Roses climbing the walls. A cat playing in the grass. The smell of pie lingering in the air.
Annie bounced out of the house and embraced Meera as soon as they entered the garden. Braids bouncing on her shoulders, freckles more pronounced now in the warmer weather, smile as welcoming as ever.
"Meera," she exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see you. And your husband. Who seems to know my husband!"
Next, she attacked Gendry with a hug. He seemed a bit take aback at first by the sudden sign of affection but let Annie embrace him.
"I'm Annie," she said. "And you must be Lord Baratheon. My husband has told me about you."
"I'm Gendry," he replied. "For you and your husband I'm not a lord, please call me by my first name."
Annie gave him a puzzled look as he introduced himself.
"I thought you were from the Stormlands?" she asked. "Not the Riverlands."
"I'm the lord of the Stormlands, but I'm born in the capital."
"But Gendry is a Riverlands name... it's my grandfather's name and he told me it's the name usually given to the first son in families along the Green Fork River."
"It was the name my mother gave me. I never knew her. But she called me Gendry Rivers. I figured they just wrote the wrong bastard name at the orphanage but perhaps she gave me a name that could lead me back to her homelands."
"She must have been Riverlands girl, just like me."
Annie smiled at Gendry. Maybe his mother had looked like her. A blonde Riverlands girl with a sweet smile.
Hot Pie came walking from another part of the cottage, sweating profusely and covered in flour. He must have been in the bakery.
"Hot Pie!" Gendry said. "Your wife was just wishing us welcome."
"Hot Pie?" Annie responded. "Is that what you call my husband?"
"It's the name I've always known him by. I guess I never thought about him having another name."
Annie looked over at her husband.
"You've never told your friend your name?"
"I guess I never did..."
"Well, his name is Robert. That's what I call him. Married men shouldn't go by childish nicknames."
Hot Pie looked at his wife in embarrassment.
Gendry had to admit that he had never realized that Hot Pie might have a proper first name.
"Your name is Robert?" he asked his friend. "Like my father? And you never told me."
"Well, I didn't know he was your father back then..." Hot Pie, or Robert, replied. "And you never asked. There were so many children in the capital named after the king when I grew up so everyone got a nickname. My mom sold hot pies... so Hot Pie it was."
So as everyone now knew each other's names they all walked together towards the cottage.
"Where's the cat?" Meera asked suddenly. "I think my father will want to know that it's doing alright."
"Ser Pie is probably in the bakery," Annie replied. "I'll go with you and look for it."
They found the very content cat sleeping on a bag of flour right next to the bakery oven. Toasty, cozy, and hot. Just like cats like it. When Meera petted it the cat yawned and stretched slightly, exposing its belly so she could scratch it. And she did of course. Because you have to make sure that cats get as pampered as they deserve.
"So is that him?" Annie asked as they sat down on the floor together next to the cat.
"What do you mean?" Meera replied, still scratching the cat's belly.
"The man you love. The one you couldn't have."
Meera nodded.
"So I guess you could have him after all. I'm happy for you."
"I can be with him now, but that means I gave up my lands."
"Which you said you couldn't do. So why did you?"
"So I can save them. It was the only way. Gendry will help me take them back."
"But you're happy?"
"I am... but it will hurt to leave my father. I'm the only child he has left."
"But you think he will understand."
"He will. He always understands. But that doesn't mean it won't hurt him."
Annie put her arms around Meera and embraced her. Annie was great at hugs. It was very comforting.
"You did what you needed to do," Annie said. "You will save your lands. And you get to be happy."
***
As the two women looked for the cat Hot Pie and Gendry sat down on a bench in the garden.
"Who would have thought," Gendry said. "That this is where we would end up. Two boys from Fleabottom. So far from there."
"You certainly strayed further than I did..." Hot Pie replied.
"I might be a lord but that's not what matters... she is what matters. My wife."
"You love her?"
"So much. I can hardly believe it. Last time I was here... I never thought I would love again."
"I'm happy for you, Gendry. That you found her. But I gotta say... you got odd taste in women my friend."
"What do you mean?"
"Well... most men don't prefer women who could kill them."
"Meera wouldn't kill me."
"I'm sure she wouldn't. But I'm also sure she could."
"You're probably right..."
They laughed and joked together for a while longer. Until their wives joined them again. Then followed a long evening of pies, wine, and talking.
Anecdotes from childhood together in the capital were told by Gendry and Hot Pie. Of sneaking around in narrow alleys, jumping around on rooftops, and rummaging through the trash for treasures.
Annie told anecdotes of growing up by the river. Of fishing every night with her grandfather, competing with her cousins on who could swim the fastest over the river, and paddling down the river to sell fish to the merchants in town.
Meera told anecdotes of growing up in the swamp. Of hunting frogs by hand, running with her brother through shallow canals, and sitting in trees at night to spot beavers and crocodiles.
The night ended too soon. As nights like these always seem to do.
That night they rejoiced and the next night they would fight.
As they were leaving Gendry looked back at the cottage again, one last time. It reminded him of something.
It was the cottage he had dreamt of. The only dream he had ever had. The one he had told Hot Pie about when they sat in the harbor watching the bonfires so long ago.
He had other dreams now.
He had dreams of a family. Of children that were his and Meera's.
He had dreams of peace. Of a kingdom without wars.
He had dreams of glory. Of being remembered generations after he was gone.
He had the dreams of a lord. Because that's who he was now.
And all those dreams would eventually come true.
But he would have to fight for them.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Howland Reed ponders life and death as the attacking Frey forces draw closes and he and his men get ready to fight their last fight. But at the last minute, help arrives.
Chapter Text
Howland Reed stood on the palisades surrounding his castle. He watched his men fighting in front of him. They fought tirelessly day after day. Many of them had gone down and many of their enemies had gone down as well. The water around them had been red from blood for weeks now.
Red water. Red water lilies. A red sunset behind them.
Today was the last day. The last day they would fight. Their food stores were depleted, the men were tired, there was no hope. Tomorrow they would go down. They wouldn't surrender, they would go down fighting.
But today was not that day. Today they still fought. Tonight they still fought.
He still waited for her. For Meera. Maybe she would save them.
But he couldn't hold on much longer. Only today. Only tonight.
As he walked the palisades to survey he felt his legs getting wobbly, the lack of food and sleep was getting to him. Howland wasn't the young man he once was. But he also wasn't dead yet.
***
After making his rounds around the palisade Howland sat down on the dock for a moment. Letting his tired body rest. Letting himself despair. Letting go of hope.
She wasn't going to come. She would come too late. She wouldn't be able to save them.
One last sunset and then he would sleep one last time.
The sunset was beautiful. Sunsets always were in the Neck. A blood-red ball of fire sinking into the waters of the swamp. Coloring it red. Or maybe that was blood from the fighting. Either way, the whole swamp was glowing in red and orange, like it was on fire.
Howland could hear the fighting but he could only see the beauty of the sunset. It was all that mattered.
If he had got to choose where to spend his last night he would have spent it right here. There was nowhere else he would rather be. Nowhere else he would rather die. Although he did wish he wasn't alone.
Soon he would be with her. With Jyana. His wife who died so long ago. And with his son, Jojen. Who shouldn't be gone at all.
He had loved Jyana. As much as a man would love a woman. She had been a woman of the swamp. A woman who hunted squirrels and tamed crocodiles. Not a noblewoman. The people of the Neck didn't care much about titles and family names. Jyana and Howland had grown up together, running through the canals hand in hand when they were too young to even know what love was. Her hair dark and curly and her eyes the color of swamp water. There had never been anyone else than her to him.
It was unfair the way she had died. The way so many women died. She didn't survive birthing his son. Jyana should have been the one going down fighting instead. Because she had so much fight in her, more than Howland ever did. She had been so free, so unrestrained, so alive. Yet she had bled out on a bed in a castle, and he still lived so many years later. He lived but a part of him had died with her. And he would get to die in those canals they had run through together.
He hadn't been with a woman after Jyana died, although he had been with many men. They were his comfort, his companions, his consolation. But they weren't her. No one could be her.
Except for Meera. Meera was her mother. Just as free, just as unrestrained, just as alive.
And although he wished he wasn't alone he was glad Meera wasn't there. He was glad she was safe. It was all he held on to. He would die, but Meera would live. She would live, she would love, she would fight.
He had seen the way she looked at him. Lord Baratheon. And he looked at her the same way back. Howland recognized that look. It was the same way Jyana had looked at Howland. Love had never seemed like something Meera wanted or strived for, but he was glad she had found it anyway. It made it easier for Howland to leave her, knowing she had someone.
The sun was almost below the horizon now, making the water deep red like wine. The last day was almost over.
Suddenly Howland saw a brief movement in the waters in front of him. A slight vibration. A slight disruption. A slight sliver of hope.
Maybe he had just imagined. Maybe he was getting delirious from hunger and lack of sleep. Maybe it was nothing.
Then he saw it again, more apparent this time. Small waves formed in the crimson water.
He knew what it meant, or at least he hoped so.
Howland got up from the dock. An old man, but not a dead man yet. Not tonight and maybe not tomorrow either.
He hurried over to the palisades and climbed one of the ladders to get up to the top. From there he would be able to see what was going on on the other side.
"Do you see anything?" he asked one of his men as he disembarked the ladder.
"Nothing," the man replied. "Just Frey men."
"There's something else," Howland said. "Someone is coming."
The light was going out around them, making the whole swamp murky and dark. But he could still hint the vibration in the water.
Having spent his whole life in the swamp Howland knew what that meant. It meant someone was coming. An army was coming. Enough men to make the water move around them.
It meant Meera was coming.
Howland could see something in the distance now. Still far away but coming closer.
Yellow.
Yellow banners.
Yellow Baratheon banners.
A war horn sounded.
She had gone to him. And she had come back to save them.
The water wasn't just vibrating now. It was shaking. From the onslaught of thousands of men.
The Frey men standing on the other side of the palisade turned around. Surprised. Frightened. Outnumbered.
This would perhaps be their last day, but it wouldn't be Howland Reed's.
Chapter 3: The first battle
Summary:
The war of the Neck is fought. Gendry loses Meera in the commotion.
Chapter Text
The sun dawned over a war-torn swamp that morning. Men laid dead and dying in the shallow waters, colored red by blood. Animals had fled these parts and the swamp was desolate. No bird song, no scuffling in the bushes, no splashing in the water. Just death.
Yellow sunlight beamed between the trees. Yellow stag banners swayed in the wind. Yellow armor was worn by the victorious lord.
Lord Gendry Baratheon stood among the carnage. War hammer in hand, blood splatter on his clothes, fury in his eyes.
Never before had he looked more like his father.
War horns blasted behind him, signaling the surrender of House Frey.
It had been his first battle as a lord, and he had won.
But right now that didn't matter.
"Where is my wife?" he called out to Devan who stood next to him.
Devan didn't answer. The poor boy had never been in a battle before. Terror was in his eyes. His unruly hair was caked with blood. His hands were shaking.
Devan Seaworth had never killed a man before. But that night he had killed ten of them at least.
"Where is she?" Gendry repeated, louder this time.
He had not seen Meera since the beginning of the battle. They had became separated in the darkness as his wife moved faster than him through the swampy canals. The last time he had seen Meera she thrust her spear into an approaching Frey soldier who attacked Gendry from behind.
She had moved so effortlessly in the canals, twisting and twirling with her spear. Her curly hair cascading around her. Her eyes determined to take out the men who tried to take her lands from her. She had taken out men twice her size. She had been magnificent. She had been so beautiful. If Gendry wasn't already in love with her he would certainly be now.
"I... I don't know," Devan said as he slowly snapped out of his state of terror.
Gendry looked over at his friend. His cheeks were wet, from splashing water or tear was unclear. Devan didn't smile at him. Devan always smiled. He concluded that Devan wasn't going to be very useful at the moment.
"I need to find her," Gendry said.
Devan just nodded. The battle was over but his sword was still held out in battle position in front of him. He held onto it with all his might, like his life depended on it.
The palisades of Greywater Watch was right in front of them. High walls built of cypress trees that had been formed into spikes at the top and were held together by vines. But Gendry and Devan turned around and started to walk back through the canal behind them. The canals of the Neck formed a labyrinth and it was easy to lose someone in them. Or lose yourself.
They walked for hours it seemed, but it probably wasn't. Through shallow canals filled with death and blood. With Frey men and Baratheon men who had fallen.
Men who had died in Gendry's name. The guilt flooded over him as he looked upon yellow-clad soldiers who had drawn their last breath in those canals. They died because of him. Because of what he had decided to do.
But Meera wasn't there.
Gendry tried not to think it. He couldn't think it. He couldn't let himself.
And then they stood there again, back where they had started. In front of the palisades. They must have walked in a circle.
Gendry looked around the open area again, hoping to see her. But she wasn't there either.
Then he heard something. The sound of splashing water behind him. Someone running. Someone yelling his name.
He turned around and he saw her. Meera. Her hair soaked in water and plastered to her face. Her clothes caked with mud. More beautiful than ever.
"Gendry!" she called out.
Before he had even time to react she had thrown herself in his arms. Arms gripped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, lips seeking his.
The surprise made him lose his balance and they fell into the water together. Her on top of him. Still kissing.
He sat up in the water, his wife straddling him. There was no use getting up, he was soaked already anyway. Hopefully, there were no leeches.
Why did he always end up falling in the water when visiting the swamp?
"I'm sorry," she said. "I lost you. I worried about you."
"I was worried about you," he replied. "I couldn't find you."
"You don't need to worry about me here. I know my way around."
"You don't need to worry about me either. I survived fighting the dead, I think I can handle some Frey soldiers."
Gendry stretched out his hand and stroked some strands of her wet hair away from her face, letting his hand linger at her chin before leaning in to kiss her again. Her lips tasted like blood, mud, and swamp water. He didn't care. He never wanted to stop kissing her.
"I love you," he said. "And I never want to lose you."
"I love you too," she replied. "And you won't lose me."
More kissing ensued. It always did. If Devan hadn't been standing next to them they probably would have consummated their marriage right there in the swamp. Not that Devan would have minded.
An uncomfortable thought entered Gendry's mind as they were kissing. The thought of what happened now. He had taken back his wife's homelands. And now he would have to force her to leave them.
"Lord Baratheon," Devan suddenly said behind them. "You might want to stop that... I think Lord Reed is watching you."
Gendry and Meera interrupted themselves and looked up towards the palisades. They looked upon Lord Reed. Meera's father. Who didn't know yet that they were married. Who didn't know yet what she had given up. Who didn't know yet that she would have to leave again.
Chapter 4: You love him
Summary:
Gendry and Meera reunite with Howland and tell him about their marriage.
Chapter Text
The water around them was calm. Everything was calm. The war was over. And the rest of the lives were about to begin.
Faint birdsong could be heard in the distance. The animals of the swamp were starting to return to their usual spots. The sun had risen above the treeline, making the sunlight less intense. And making the carnage more apparent. Men laid dead around them. The water was dark from blood and mud. The trees were marked by sword slashes.
This was not the place or time for kisses.
Meera stood up, unlocking herself from her husband's embrace in the muddy water. She was happy to see her father. Happy that he was alive. But this was not how she had wanted him to find out about her marriage.
"I need to talk to my father," she said to Gendry. "I need to tell him... about us."
"I should come with you," he replied. "I didn't ask for Lord Reed's blessing before we married. I should be the one to tell him."
She shook her head. "He's my father. I need to be one to tell him. Please let me do that, Gendry."
"He might want me beheaded for marrying his daughter without permission."
It was cute how worried her husband was about her father's reaction to their marriage. And they hadn't even consummated it properly yet. Although not for lack of desire to do so.
"My father is not the type to behead people..." she said and give her husband a quick peck on the forehead. "He will understand that we did what we needed to do."
"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.
"No, I should talk to him alone first. And you need to stay here with your men. Take care of the ones who are lost and injured."
Gendry nodded but still looked a bit hesitant.
"I'll stay here for now," he said. "But I want to talk to your father later, he's my father-in-law now and I have to greet him properly."
"I'll call for you once I've told him," she said.
Meera bent down and put her forehead against Gendry's. She looked him in the eyes and kissed him. Then she got up and left him still sitting up to his waist in murky swamp water.
"There are leeches around your legs," she told him as she was leaving.
Her poor husband quickly jumped up from the water, furiously patting his legs.
"Devan, do you see them?" he shouted behind her. "Are they still on me?"
Meera would have saved Gendry from the leeches herself if she had seen them earlier. After all his fear of leeches was well-grounded. But right now she had to talk to her father. So she waded through the waters towards the palisades.
The gate was open, it had been lowered after the victory was declared. On the other side was the castle of Greywater Watch.
The castle looked the same. It floated on rafts and cypress trees and vines made up its walls. The trees were still growing, making the castle change shape daily. It was a living castle that wasn't just carved out of the swamp, it was part of the swamp itself. Flowers grew on it and birds and other small animals lived inside it.
It looked like home. But it wasn't her home anymore. Storm's End was her home now.
Her father came down one of the ladders from the palisades just as Meera walked in. Howland looked different than when she left. Thinner, older, more fragile. War and starvation can do that to a man.
No words were needed. They simply looked at each other and embraced. So happy to finally know that the other one was safe.
"You came," he said as his arms finally let go of her. "You saved us. I was beginning to lose hope."
"Of course I came," she responded. "I was never going to leave you here."
"I knew you would come. But I feared you would come too late. Our food stores have been out for days."
She realized now why her father looked so fragile. Why all his men up on the palisades seemed so worn out and tired.
"We brought food," she said. "We can feed everyone."
Her father just nodded, suddenly looking very pale and weak.
"Let's sit down," she said. "Let's go over to the dock."
As they sat down on the dock together she handed her father her cantine of water and some bread she had kept in her satchel. She wanted him to eat before she dropped any news on him.
As Howland ate and drank Meera sat next to him, looking out over the swamp. It still looked the same. A bit wartorn, but still the same. The water was still tinted red from the battle but upon it water lilies floated, just as fragrant and beautiful as ever.
"Are you going to tell me?" Howland suddenly asked.
"I am..." she said, still trying to find the right words.
"You don't have to. I know. I saw you with Lord Baratheon down there. You love him."
"I do."
Of course, she did. She loved Gendry. This was what love was. An overwhelming feeling of wanting to give him everything. Of suddenly feeling lost when he wasn't around. Of having your heart skip a beat every time he looked at you. There was not a doubt in her mind that she loved him, and she knew he felt the same.
"He's a good man," Howland said. "He'll be a good husband."
Meera looked at her father in surprise. Apparently, Howland had already figured that out as well.
"You knew I would marry him?"
"I saw how you looked at him when we were in the capital. I knew you would go to him. And I knew you would never let him help you otherwise. He would have doomed himself."
"I went to the king first... he wouldn't help me."
She realized she would have to tell her father why soon. But she didn't want to drop that on him now as well. Before she left the swamp she would have to tell him though. The king was a threat to them all and her father needed to know that.
"He should have," her father said. "Why wouldn't he?"
"I'll tell you, I'll tell you everything soon. About what happened up North and what it means for the kingdom. But can we perhaps just celebrate today?"
"We'll celebrate today. And you'll tell me whenever you're ready."
"Thank you, father."
"We'll celebrate that Lord Baratheon did help us. I'm very grateful to him for that."
"He would have helped me even if I didn't marry him. But I couldn't let him do that. Because I couldn't risk losing him."
"And you want to be with him?"
"More than anything."
"Then it was right."
"But it means I will have to leave this place. My home. It means I can't be your heir."
"It means you can have love. That you can be happy. That's all I ever wanted for you, my daughter."
"I am happy. It's just... not the life I thought I would have. To be someone's wife."
"Whether you're someone's wife or not, you will still be you, Meera. No one will ever be able to tame you, and I don't think he will even try."
"He won't," she said with a smile. She smiled because she knew he wouldn't, Gendry would never try to change her and she wouldn't try to change him. They were enough for each other, just the way they were.
"Then I'm glad you found him," her father replied. "I'm glad you married him. Even if I wish I could have been there to give you away."
"I wish you could have been too. I wore a dress."
"I've never seen you in a dress, I would have wanted to see that."
Thinking back to her wedding day made her smile. It had been perfect. Except that her father hadn't been there.
She looked over towards her father. He had a smile on his lips too. Probably because he was thinking of the absurdity of his daughter wearing a dress.
The wedding had been perfect but it had also changed so much. So much of who she was and who she had thought she would become.
"I'm not a Reed anymore," she said and put her hand on her father's shoulder. "I'm a Baratheon now."
"I know that, Meera. I know what marriage means."
"We will have children. At least two. One to rule his lands and one to rule yours. Both under the name Baratheon."
Sadness flashed briefly through her father's eyes at the mention of children. Maybe he thought of her mother, Jyana. She who had given him his children but didn't get to be there to see them grow up.
"If these lands are to be ruled by someone by another name than Reed, there is no name I would rather want it to be than Baratheon. And it'll still be your child, with your spirit."
"My child, and his."
"Baratheon and Reed. I think it will be a good combination."
"So you don't oppose the marriage?"
"Why would I oppose it? It seems to make you happy."
"Gendry thinks you'll want to kill him. For marrying me without your permission."
Howland let out a slight chuckle. "Call your husband over there and I'll ensure him I want him no harm," he said.
At that moment Gendry walked in through the gate of the palisades together with Devan and some of his men. Meera caught his attention by waving at him. Soon he came walking over towards them on the dock, looking mighty nervous. As he approached them, Meera and Howland got up from where they were sitting to greet him.
"Lord Reed, it's an honor to see you again," Gendry said when he reached them. "I assume Meera has told you about..."
His hands appeared to be shaking, they always did when he was nervous, and he was shifting slightly from one foot to the other.
Howland didn't say anything. Instead, he walked up to Gendry and took a firm grip on both his shoulders.
"You don't need to call me Lord Reed, Lord Baratheon," he said. "You're my son in law now, and you should call me Howland."
Then he embraced his new son in law, whose hands were still shaking.
"Thank you, Lord... Howland," Gendry replied. "And you should call me Gendry."
"I should be the one thanking you," Howland said. "You saved us. I'll be forever thankful to you for that."
"A man has the right to defend his family. My wife's family is my family. And that's all I did. You don't need to thank me for that."
"And you are my family now too, son."
A hint of a tear was seen in her husband's eye upon hearing that. For a man who'd never had a family hearing those words meant something. It meant everything.
Meera went up and stood next to him, and she took his hand in hers. Standing united in front of her father for the first time.
A tingling feeling started to spread through her body, as it always did when they touched. Gendry looked over at his wife and smiled, before looking over at her father again.
"I'll promise to take care of your daughter," he said. "I'll be as good of a husband as I can be."
"My daughter can take of herself, I think you know that as well as I do," Howland replied. "Just love her, that's all you need to do."
"I will, I promise you that. I will love her for the rest of my life."
"And I will love him," Meera added.
They wanted to kiss, they always wanted to kiss, but figured it probably wasn't proper to do so when Howland was standing there. So they decided against it.
"You two can kiss in front of me," Howland said with a smile because of course, he knew what they were thinking. "I don't mind. Although I might give you the dock house to sleep in because I'm not sure I want to hear what you get up to at night..."
So they kissed. But only once. They still wanted to contain themselves a bit in front of Howland.
Howland just snickered slightly and walked past them towards the castle.
"When you're done with that you two can come to help me prepare for the feast tonight," he said. "We need to celebrate this victory."
Chapter 5: She wore a dress
Summary:
The Neck celebrates the victory in the war. Meera has a conversation with her grandmother.
Chapter Text
Meera wore a dress that night. For the second time in her life. A dress that had belonged to her mother.
She wore it for her father. She wore it for her husband. And she wore it for herself.
***
That evening before the feast she stood in her old room.
The room looked the same as before she left. The arched ceiling made out of branches created an alcove of solitude and peace. It had been her haven. When her brother got too annoying, or her father too overbearing. Growing up the only girl among men was hard sometimes.
It didn't feel like she belonged there anymore. It was too childish. A remnant of the girl she no longer was. The girl who had made sure she was stronger, faster, and smarter than any of the men around her. The girl who had spent her whole life taking care of her sickly younger brother. The girl who had thought she would never leave this place. But she was a married woman now. Her brother was gone. And she would have to leave.
A narrow bed with a knitted grey quilt stood in the middle. Spears, bows, and arrows were lined up against the wall. Carved swamp animals decorated the shelves. Clothes made for hunting and running through the swamp were folded up in drawers.
She had retreated to her room to change before the feast, while her husband helped his men set up camp. Her clothes were wet, muddy, and splattered with blood from the battle.
Nothing in her drawers seemed appropriate for the occasion though.
Suddenly she heard a familiar voice behind her. A voice she had been afraid she would never hear again.
"Meera, I'm so glad to see you back."
She turned around to meet the eyes of her grandmother. Her mother's mother. Curly grey hair. A stature diminished by age. Eyes filled with fortitude and defiance.
Her name was also Meera. Her granddaughter had been given her name. When growing up she had been Meera's only link to her mother Jyana.
Meera jumped into the older Meera's arms.
"Grandma," she exclaimed. "I'm glad you're safe. I was worried for you, your cottage is so far away from here."
Meera's grandmother lived by herself in the northern part of the swamp, steadfastly refusing all of Howland's offers to move into the castle where it was safer. She still hunted and fished all her food herself, and also tended to a pack of crocodiles who dwelled in the waters behind her home. Every night the crocodiles were fed and they had all been given names.
"Your father sent some of his men to get me at night before the Frey's arrived in my part of the swamp," her grandmother said. "He's a good man. Always has been. My daughter chose well."
Of course, Howland had thought of his mother-in-law even in times like these. Meera should have known. Her father always thought of everything and everyone.
"Is Lily here with you as well?" Meera asked.
Lily was her grandmother's favorite pet, a small albino crocodile that she had raised from the time the creature was very young. Lily usually hung out on the porch with the older Meera and slept at the end of her bed. Needless to say, Meera's grandmother didn't need to worry too much about robbers or other intruders.
"She's in my room. I put her on her leash and brought her with me, of course," her grandmother replied. "The boys who helped me seemed a bit scared but she behaved well, she only snapped at one of them."
"I'll have to go and say hi to her later. Hopefully, she remembers me."
Meera and her grandmother had always shared a love of the animals of the swamp. She was the one who had showed Meera where to find the animals and how to befriend them.
Memories of her childhood ambushed her and Meera sat down on the bed. Suddenly it was all so clear that it was over, she wasn't a child anymore. And what came next, life as a married woman, excited her, but it also scared her. Walking away from everything you've ever known and cared about is always scary, regardless of what you walk towards.
Her grandmother sat down next to her and took her hand.
"I heard you married him," she said. "The boy who came and helped us. Robert's son."
Meera nodded. "I did. I love him."
"I look forward to meeting him. I've heard he's handsome."
"He is very handsome," Meera said with a smile. Because of course, she thought so. She thought Gendry was the most handsome man in the world and just thinking about him made her feel warm inside.
"I wish you could have been there for the wedding," she continued. "I wish everyone could have been there."
"We're here now," her grandmother said. "You might already be married but we can still celebrate your union properly. And you can still wear a dress."
"I don't have any dresses."
"I have a dress for you. It was your mother's. I made it for her wedding. I know your father has kept it."
***
So she wore a dress that night.
The dress made out of velvet that shimmered in different shades of green, like the leaves of the swamp. The skirt billowed around her like moving water. The neckline was adorned with lace in the shape of flowers.
The Great Hall of Grey Water Watch was filled with people, her father's people and her husband's people, celebrating the victory that morning. Candles were placed on nooks and crannies among the branches that made up the walls. Large split tree trunks were used as tables. Vases filled with pink and purple water lilies decorated the tables.
All eyes were on her as she entered the hall. But only two sets of eyes mattered. Her husband's and her father's, who stood together at the head table. And they both looked at her with adoration and pride.
Meera walked through the hall, her dress cascading around her. She had to hold it up slightly at the front not to trip. Walking in dresses was still something she wasn't quite accustomed to.
She took her place next to her husband at the head table, right next to her father. Gendry had also changed into proper clothes for a feast. His jacket was in black leather and had yellow Baratheon regalia embroidered on the chest. He was so darn handsome.
Meera took her husband's hand and he smiled at her. His smile ignited a fire inside of her, it always did. And urge to be as close to him as she could.
"You're beautiful," he said.
"It's my mother's dress," she said.
"I didn't even notice the dress."
She looked over at her father. Now cleaned up and looking healthier than before. But still a bit too thin and frail. He smiled at her as well and leaned over and gave her a light embrace.
"You look so much like her," he said. "Like Jyana."
A tear glimmered in the corner of his eyes. Perhaps he remembered his own wedding. It had been in the same hall and his bride and worn the same dress.
Then he took a step back. He looked around the hall and raised his glass.
"To my daughter and her husband," Howland said.
The people around them raised their glasses as well. Glasses full of mead, brewed according to the customs of the Neck.
"May their union be long, prosperous, and happy," he continued.
Meera leaned over towards her husband and kissed him. In front of her own family and friends this time.
It felt real now, in a way it hadn't before. They were actually married. They were about to spend the rest of their lives together. They were so in love the air around them seemed to vibrate when they touched.
The crowd of people around them cheered.
During the rest of the night, she introduced her husband to her family. Her grandmother who smiled approvingly upon setting her eyes on Gendry's blue eyes and muscular shape. Her grandmother's crocodile Lily who hissed at him a bit. Her cousin Wyanna who once she had laid her eyes upon Devan Seaworth never let him out of her eyesight for the rest of the night, even though the poor boy tried his best to hide from her. Her uncle Alder who seemed very eager to discuss methods of blacksmithing with her husband.
At the end of the night, she suddenly looked around and couldn't find her husband. He seemed to have disappeared among the people, chatter, and celebration.
She looked for him in the hall but couldn't find him. Not until she stepped outside and saw him sitting on the dock. Just like that first time.
When she took his hand. When it all began. When they changed the course of the kingdom.
***
Meera walked up and sat down next to her husband. As she sat down she adjusted her dress so it wouldn't dip into the water.
Gendry smiled at her, but his eyes looked troubled. His beautiful blue eyes that still made her whole world spin. She remembered the same thing happened the first time she had sat down next to him in that spot. That time the emotion had surprised and confused her. She had never felt anything like that before. This time the emotion was familiar but still exciting.
"It looks just like then," he said. "When we sat here before. I was so scared then, and so alone."
"You're not alone anymore," she said. "You have me now."
She took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. Just like she had done that first time.
"I know," he said and squeezed her hand. "But I'm still scared."
"Being scared is good," she replied. "That means that you care."
"I think I'm more scared now because now I'm scared of losing you."
"You won't lose me. I'm yours forever."
She leaned in and kissed him. They had kissed so many times now you would think it would become old and less exciting. But it hadn't. It still felt the same. It still made her whole body tingle and vibrate. Her lips pressed against his and the whole world around them disappeared.
"When I lost you in that swamp today...I just can't lose you," he said. "But seeing you with your family tonight. I also can't ask you to leave. This is where you belong. This is your home. And the war is over."
She shook her head.
"I belong with you, Gendry," she said. "I'm your wife. You don't have to ask me to leave, because I've already decided I will. I decided that when you asked me to marry you."
"We never actually consummated our marriage. If you wanted to you could still stay here."
She leaned over towards him and kissed his cheek.
"I meant everything I said," she assured him. "During the ceremony. I'm yours and you're mine. Forever. I will go wherever you go. Not because I feel obligated but because I want to. My home is with you. You're my family now. And I'm never letting you go. "
He nodded and squeezed her hand.
"And I won't either," he replied.
Meera squeezed Gendry's hand back before she released it from her grip to get up from the dock. The skirt of the dress tripped her up slightly and she had to gather it to ensure she didn't fall into the water.
Then she reached her hand down towards her husband.
"Come," she said.
"What are we doing?" he asked, seemingly a bit confused. But he took her hand and stood up next to her.
"We're going to consummate our marriage," she replied and pulled him in for a kiss.
Meera wore a dress that night. And soon her husband would help her take it off.
Chapter 6: I'd rather be with you
Summary:
Gendry and Meera finally consummate their marriage. Scar the poor animals of the swamp.
Notes:
This is a mature chapter, proceed with caution!
Chapter Text
Flowering branches created a dome over the bed. Flower petals had fallen on the sheets. Lit candles stood on a bed stand table. Moss and leaves created a soft floor. This was the dock house. This was where they would spend the night. This was where they would finally be able to have each other.
Meera's dress whirled around her legs as she pulled her husband through the door. It closed behind them, locking everything else out. The sounds from the feast, the noises of the swamp, the carnage of the war. It was only them, and they could do whatever they wanted.
Suddenly they didn't know where to begin. They just stood there for a moment, at the end of the bed. Lingering close to each other but not touching. Nervous, excited, and taken by the moment. Unsure of whether they should slow down and savor the moment or give in to their urges right away
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I've never been more sure of anything," she replied. "You're my husband and I want you."
"I want you too, Meera. But what if you become with child?"
"Then I'll have your child, Gendry."
He nodded and smiled at her. A nervous but sweet smile. She smiled back and reached out her hand towards him. As it met his hand a current streamed through the both of them. Through their entire bodies. A current of desire and lust.
And then they couldn't hold back any longer. All the urge, lust, and need suddenly washed over them all at once.
His other hand went on her hip and he pulled her close. He leaned in to kiss her. Soft lips, grazing tongues, vibrating bodies.
She pushed herself against him, wanting to be as close as possible. Everything was touching. Their lips, their chests, their hips. Every slight touch turned into flames radiating through her body and converging at that one spot. The spot between her legs where she wanted to feel him so badly. She wanted him inside of her. She couldn't wait any longer.
He started fiddling with the buttons on her dress but seemed unsure of how to get it open.
"How do I do this?" he asked. "I don't want to break the dress."
"Just pull here," she said and put his hand on the strings holding the waist together.
The dress flowed out around her as he opened it and pulled it over her head. Once again she stood before him only wearing a thin nightgown, just like on their wedding night.
Once the dress was off they couldn't hold back any longer. It all happened in a feverish frenzy. Buttons went flying and seams ripped as they undressed each other. His shirt flew off and she fumbled with the belt of his pants. He reached down to help her and soon the pants were gone as well. Her nightgown didn't stay on for many moments after that as he pulled it over her head and threw it to the side.
Still kissing. They hadn't really stopped kissing.
Skin against skin. Lips against lips. Needing each other.
Her hands reached down to touch him because she wanted to feel how much he needed her. As soon as her hand grazed him he let out a moan.
She pulled him even closer, her hands on his back to press their hips together, and she moved against him to egg him on further. The moaning grew louder and she slowly pulled him with her towards the bed.
She could feel him between her legs as they landed on the bed. So hard. So warm. Wanting her so much.
Entangled in each other. Kissing, touching, exploring.
She felt his hand between her legs, making her shiver with desire. A moan escaped from her mouth.
He sat up and positioned himself between her legs. The anticipation for what was to come flowed over her. It excited her but scared her as well.
Suddenly Gendry halted himself for a moment.
"Can I-" he asked.
Meera interrupted his question by pulling him down for another kiss. The movement made him almost push inside of her.
"Just shut up and take me, husband," she replied.
His body vibrated under her touch. Warm, pulsating, tense. She knew he wanted to. That it was the only thing he wanted to do.
He nodded and repositioned himself. One more deep breath. One more moment of anticipation. One more kiss.
Then he thrust inside of her. She felt a jolt of pain and a flood of pleasure. Pain but pleasure at the same time. It was overwhelming. A muffled scream escaped her lips.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked in a concerned tone.
She shook her head. It did hurt but she didn't want to tell him. Because she didn't want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop.
He thrust again, getting deeper inside of her. It was a weird feeling, a pleasant feeling, an overwhelming feeling. Like her body was making room for him and shaping itself around him.
Everything was blurry, hazy, unclear. Everything that mattered was the feeling of him inside of her. Everything was them.
Gendry still seemed to be holding back a little, scared of hurting her. But she could feel his desire inside of her. She could hear it in his labored breath. She could taste it on his kisses.
She twisted her legs around his waist, pulling him in further. Wanting him as deep inside of her as possible. She didn't care if it hurt.
This made him finally give in completely. Made him let go of the fear of hurting her. He thrust again and again, rhythmically. Harder each time. Discovering more pleasure each time. Letting go more each time.
Letting go of everything else. Everyone who had hurt him. Everyone who had tricked him. Everyone who had left him. They didn't matter. Only he and Meera mattered. It was them now. They were one.
The pleasure now radiated from that one spot through her entire body. Everything was tense and charged. Her body and his body. They moved as one. One movement, one body, one soul.
Every time he got deeper inside of her she gasped and the gasps soon turned into screams. She could hear him moaning, almost screaming too.
He pushed against her and she pushed against him. Wanting to be so close. Wanting everything. Wanting each other. Wanting nothing else.
Then release came. Of all the tension, emotion, and pain. Everything suddenly flushed over them at once before washing away.
Muffled screams and gasps and then it was all over. Everything was calm. A light kiss on her lips.
Gendry laid down beside her, taking her hand. Panting. Smiling. Handsome as always.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Meera nodded and rolled over to kiss him. He pulled her in with his arm and she snuggled up to him with her chin on his shoulder.
"I'm yours in every way now," she said. "And it's all I ever want to be."
"And I'm yours," he replied. "Forever."
Flower petals floated down on them from the domed ceiling as they laid there. Embraced by love and satisfaction. Falling asleep in each other's arms.
He was hers and she was his. There would never be any doubt. No other love.
But they would still have to fight for their love. When the world shattered around them. When she was taken away from him. When he would have to become his father.
One day he would have to rise up and say words he never thought he would say. He would do it for her. For their love. For their children.
***
Gendry awoke early the next morning, as always. Still accustomed to the life of a blacksmith his eyes opened when the first rays of sunlight flooded the dock house.
Half asleep he patted the bed next to him. It was empty. His wife wasn't there.
Suddenly he felt a poke in his side and looked over to his other side. And there she stood. Already dressed. Not in the dress she had worn the night before but in her usual attire of tunic and pants. But just as beautiful.
"Are you awake, husband?" his wife asked.
"Almost..." he said while rubbing his eyes and trying to figure out exactly where he was.
"Then get up. I want to show you the swamp."
He sat up slowly in the bed.
"I've seen the swamp," he said. "I've fallen in it and been attacked by leeches in it."
"You haven't seen the swamp like I've seen it though," she replied. "I want to show you my lands. My way."
Meera threw his pants and shirt on him and Gendry realized there was no use arguing. So he got out of the bed and dressed himself. Although upon putting his shirt on he realized that all the buttons were ripped off. Their activities the night before had not been gentle on his clothes.
He tucked the shirt into his pants and put his jacket over, figuring he could deal with the problem of the broken shirt later.
Everything was quiet as they exited the dock house. Quiet like only early mornings can be. The water was still and the sun barely peeked over the horizon. The light yellow sun rays reflected in the dark green water, creating streaks of gold on the surface.
She took him on paths that no one else could see, jumping so easily between rocks and tufts of grass. He had trouble keeping up but she stretched out her hand to help him whenever needed. Making sure that he didn't fall in the water or got attacked by leeches this time.
They walked away from the parts ravaged by the war, towards where all the animals had gone. Deep into the swamp, where people rarely traveled. Through thick brush and high grass.
At the end of their trek was a big cypress tree. A platform was built on top of it, obscured by the branches. They climbed up and sat down on the edge of it. Side by side, holding hands. Together.
Below them was a dark pond, lined by high ancient cypress trees on all sides. Branches stretched out far over the water, creating a cave in their shadow. From the branches hung curtains of moss, wrapping the place in a pale cloak. Floating water lilies created pink and purple dots of color in the murky water.
This was where the animals gathered. She pointed them out to him as they sat there. Crocodiles, beavers, squirrels, storks, and many more. Chattering among each other with different sounds.
"I used to spend nights out here," she said. "Just watching the animals. Far away from anyone else."
"It's very peaceful," he replied. "I understand why you would rather be here than anywhere else."
"I wouldn't, I'd rather be with you."
She squeezed his hand and leaned over and kissed him. Kisses turned into lust and soon she climbed on top of him.
They united in lust and pleasure once again. Consuming each other. Scaring all the animals of the swamp.
Chapter 7: What he died for
Summary:
Meera tells her father the truth about what happened to Jojen and her suspicions about Bran. They visit the weirwood tree of the Neck together.
Chapter Text
Howland sat in the Great Hall of his castle when his daughter walked in, her husband in tow. He looked up at them as they entered, hand in hand.
It was still a bit weird to him that his daughter had a husband. She who only recently had been a little girl who sat in his lap. But supposedly she was an adult now. He actually liked the boy she had married. Gendry was honest and true. Just like his father. And he and Meera seemed absolutely infatuated with each other. It was what Howland had always wanted for his daughter, he just had a hard time getting over that it was happening already.
Only moments ago Meera was a little girl getting into all kinds of trouble in the swamp. Befriending crocodiles, swimming into beaver's nests, climbing trees way too high. And she had always roped her little brother into her shenanigans. It happened on more than one occasion that Howland had to climb a tree himself to save Jojen, who couldn't get down by himself. But Meera could always get herself out of any situation.
But those moments were over. His children were gone. Jojen was dead, and Meera was a married woman. Who seemed to engage in activities that could result in her having children of her own soon.
"I thought I wouldn't have to hear your nightly activities if I placed you in the dock house," Howland said with a slight chuckle. "I realized last night I was wrong."
Howland enjoyed embarrassing and shocking his daughter. It was one of the greatest joys of parenthood to see the grimaces on her face when he talked about things no child wanted to hear their parents mention.
If she only knew what Howland and Ser Swann had been up to the same night. They had the decency to be quieter though. Perhaps he should tell her to see more uncomfortable grimaces on her face though. He decided to save that for another time though.
Meera blushed and Gendry looked down at the floor.
"We didn't mean for... you to hear that," she said.
"You're young and you're just married, you should do... what you were doing," Howland replied. "But do you have to be so loud?"
"Sorry, we'll try to be... quieter."
Meera's cheeks were red from embarrassment. Her husband still couldn't meet Howland's eyes.
"I'll just find something to plug my ears with tonight..." he said. "But I assume that's not what you came here to discuss."
Meera shook her head and shared a look with her husband. They both sat down opposite of Howland before she started speaking. Apparently, this was a sit-down kind of conversation.
This was about Jojen, Howland realized that now. Meera was about to tell him the truth she didn't want to tell.
It was silent for a moment before she finally spoke. In a quieter and more reserved tone than usual.
"Father," she said. "I need to tell you about what actually happened up North, about what happened to Jojen. And what happened to Bran."
Howland looked up and nodded. He had known this moment would come and he had dreaded it. Of course, he wanted to know, but he knew the truth would probably hurt.
His son had died, and Howland hadn't been there to save him. Maybe he could have saved Jojen if he had been there, just like he did when he climbed those trees.
"Does your husband know?" he asked and nodded towards Gendry.
His daughter nodded.
"I told him some of it," she replied. "In the capital, that night when I disappeared."
"I knew you were with him," Howland said with a smile. "I'm glad you found someone you trusted enough to tell."
"We didn't do anything... untoward that night," Gendry said, sounding slightly nervous. "I swear."
"Son, don't worry," Howland said and stretched out his hands towards his son-in-law. "You're married now, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to hold anything against you."
Gendry took his hand and shook it, seemingly assured that he didn't want him any harm. Howland found it quite amusing how anxious his son-in-law was to get his approval. But it made sense, the boy had never had a father, and he had grown up in a completely different position in society. A position where having relations with a lord's daughter would have been punishable with death. Gendry might wear a lord's name now, but he was still a blacksmith at heart. Which was good, because Howland had met way more blacksmiths he liked than lords.
Meera glanced at her husband and took his hand.
A deep breath. Another look. A squeeze of the hand. Then she told the truth.
"The king," Meera said. "He's not Bran Stark."
"What do you mean?" Howland replied, a bit confused. "I've seen the boy, he's Ned's son. I know he is."
"He was Bran Stark. When we first met up with them he was. But he's not Bran Stark anymore. He died. They all died. Jojen, Hodor, Summer. Except me."
"What happened? Tell me, Meera. You can tell me anything."
She looked over at Gendry again, tears in her eyes.
"I haven't... told you this part," she said. "I never told you about the cave. Or about what really happened to Jojen."
"You know I love you regardless," he said. "Nothing can ever change that."
She looked over at her father. Unable to meet his eyes she instead looked down at the table, nervously letting her hand trace the lines of the wood.
"I killed him," she said in a tiny voice. "Jojen. He was in pain, dying. And I put a knife in his throat."
Suddenly so meek. Not at all like her usual self.
"You spared him pain," Howland said, tears in his eyes. "You did the right thing."
She nodded up still looked down. Her husband put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.
Howland felt the need to do the same, so he got up and walked around the table. He sat down next to his daughter and took her in his arms.
"Meera," he said. "I hope you know I would never blame you."
They sat there for a moment in silence, both Howland and Gendry holding Meera from each side. Her curly hair smelled sweet of water lilies against his nose. The same smell as when she was a little girl.
"I need to tell you the rest too," she said eventually, drying tears from her eyes.
"Whenever you are ready," Howland responded.
One more look at her husband. A kiss.
"You know this part," she whispered to Gendry.
Then she looked over at her father again.
"After Jojen died we arrived at a cave," she said. "That's where Bran died. A man was there, at least he looked like a man. He called himself the Three-Eyed Raven. Bran and Jojen had seen him in their visions. They believed he called us there so that Bran could become the Three-Eyed Raven in his stead. He would receive powers that could help us fight the threat from the North. But I thought he would still be Bran. That he would still be the sweet boy I knew."
"But you don't think he is?" Howland asked.
"I know he's not. I doubted it at first, but after I talked to him in the capital I knew. Because Bran Stark, the boy I knew, cared about me. And whatever he is now doesn't care about anyone."
"Why didn't you tell me then?"
"It was too late. You had already elected him as king. And you believed in the quest. We all did. I did and Jojen did. I couldn't let you think he died for nothing."
Howland nodded. He could understand why she didn't tell him then. Even if he wished she had.
"So why did Jojen believe what he did then?" he asked. "His visions were always right before."
"He was always right," she replied. "But this time we were tricked. I think something sinister seeped into his visions and led us astray. It wanted us to think we followed the old gods when we followed something else, something opposite of what Jojen believed in. Not the old gods, but their enemy."
"Something used you to do their bidding?"
"I believe so. It used me. It used Jojen. It used Bran. And it's not done using him."
"What does it want?"
"I don't know... I wish I knew."
"We'll find out together then," he said and patted her hair lightly.
"So you believe me?" Meera asked. She looked over at her father, now able to look him in the eyes again.
"Of course I do. You're my daughter. I always believe you."
"You're not mad that I didn't tell you?"
"When have I ever been mad at you, Meera?"
"Probably that time I brought home a litter of baby crocodiles and put them in your bed..." she said and smiled. Howland was happy to see her smile again and he chuckled a bit at the memory. It was true that he had been slightly perturbed with her at the time.
Meera's husband looked slightly concerned at this memory. Perhaps he would check under the sheets carefully for crocodiles before he went to bed that night.
"Well, I was a bit mad that time, I admit that, "Howland said. "They chewed through all my sheets."
"And your best boots..."
"But have I ever been mad at you for any non-crocodile related incidents?"
"No..."
"And I'm not mad now either. I wish you had told me earlier, but I understand why you didn't."
"It could have put you in danger if I told you. He knows things. Things no one should know. I think he can see it somehow, things both from the past and the present. Even when he's not there."
"So why are you telling me now then?"
"Because you deserve to know. And because... I talked to the hand of the king when I was in the capital, and he told me something. He told me the king didn't know I was coming, even though he usually knows everything."
"He couldn't see you?"
"It seems that way... perhaps because I was in that cave with him. Somehow his powers don't work on me."
Howland nodded, it made sense.
"Maybe that was the reason then," he said.
"The reason for what?"
"That you had to go on that mission. It wasn't to help Bran Stark, it was to stop whatever this entity that has taken over his body wants to do. Because if you hadn't been there no one would be able to."
Meera looked at Howland in surprise.
"I never... thought of it like that," she said. "Bran could have done what he did without us... but then I wouldn't have been in that cave with him. Maybe Jojen's visions were right after all."
"But the visions didn't mean what he thought they did."
"So what do I do now? He, whatever he is, is king. How do I stop him?"
"I don't know. But I know we need to. We need to follow the path your brother set you upon long ago."
Meera took her father's hand.
"Let's go ask him then. Let's ask him what to do. Jojen will guide us," she said.
***
The garden around the heart tree glowed in orange as the sunlight made its way through the red foliage. The place felt warm and welcoming. This was where the people who had passed still lived. Their spirits lived on through the tree.
It was safe here, she could feel it. The king couldn't get to them. The weirwoods wouldn't tell on them.
Bran had said that he could see the world through the weirwoods, but maybe it was the other way around. Maybe the weirwoods were watching him and trying to find a way to fight him. Because the weirwoods were good, Meera could sense it.
All three of them went up to the trunk of the tree and put their right hand on its bark. Her husband on her left side and her father on her right side. She had instructed her husband beforehand on what to do since he wasn't used to northern ceremonies.
"Jojen," she said. "If you can hear me. I think I know now. I know what it was all for. And I will need your help to do what I need to do to fight him, whatever he is. So please show me the way."
Green light suddenly embraced her. It was all around her, sweeping her away from the Godswood. Far away from her father and husband.
Instead, two boys stood in front of her. Jojen and Bran. Still so young. Forever young. She had become a married woman since she last saw them, but they remained the same. Frozen in the moment of death.
Behind them stood the other. The others who had been on their journey, and who were now dead. Hodor, Summer, Osha, and Rickon.
Above them was a cloud of ravens. Circling them all. Cawing louder and louder.
"You're holding the weapon, Meera," Jojen said. "The sword to fight the darkness."
"Use it when life is bleeding out of you," Bran said. "And I will save you."
That was all they said. Then the ravens descended upon them all. Enveloping them in darkness.
The darkness turned green and soon she was back with her husband and father again. She sat on the ground by the tree trunk. Where her brother always used to sit.
"Are you alright?" her husband asked, looking very concerned. He planted a kiss on her forehead.
She nodded, still a bit confused about what had happened. "I'm fine," she said and found his hand. "What happened?"
"You passed out," her father said. "Your eyes turned white. Just like your brother used to do."
She looked around. Everything around her still glowed in orange. Not green. This was not a dream.
Something was in her hand. A branch of weirwood. She looked at it, remembering Jojen's words from the dream.
"You grabbed that as you fell," her father said. "You held it so tightly I couldn't make you let go of it."
She nodded. She understood now.
"Can we bring some branches of weirwood with us to Storm's End?" she asked. "I think we'll need it. Jojen told me so."
Chapter 8: Out of the swamp
Summary:
Devan complains about the swamp, then complains some more, before falling asleep. Volunteers to go to the capital.
Chapter Text
The Neck was not a beautiful or appealing place to Devan Seaworth. It was not a place where he wished to be. It was a place he wanted to leave.
The rain never stopped it felt like. Grey clouds constantly hung in the sky. His boots were never dry and his hair was frizzy. Maybe he should have let his mother cut it as she had wanted.
The biggest issue to Devan was obviously the food shortage. The Neck had depleted all their food stores during the siege and was therefore reliant on the food the Baratheon armies brought with them. It was enough to feed everyone but they had to ration it to make sure. Suffice to say, Devan was not fond of food rationing. He needed to be able to eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Which was often.
He laid on the dock outside Greywater Watch. Feeling like he was wasting away from starvation. Trying to ignore the sprinkling rain around him, the buzzing mosquitos, and the threat of crocodiles. Devan still had problems sleeping at night since the faces of men who had died by his sword during the battle haunted his dreams. So he intended to try to get some sleep now on the dock instead.
Why couldn't Lord Baratheon have married a woman from the desert instead? Although deserts were awfully hot and full of sand that would fill his boots. Also, there were snakes and scorpions.
He was bored. There was no one here for him to talk to, and Devan loved to talk. But talking is no fun if no one listens.
He missed Brynda. She always listened to him when he went on about things. And Devan could go on about things forever. Or she kissed him to shut him up. Devan liked kissing even more than talking so he didn't mind.
He missed his brothers. Stannis was good to talk to since he rarely said much himself. He usually just nodded and came with comforting words if needed, just like Mathos used to do. And when Devan tired of trying to be a responsible adult he still enjoyed roughhousing with Steffon. Wrestling, playing chase, and climbing trees were still simple pleasures to him.
He even missed his mother. She always made sure he was properly fed and that his boots were dry. How was he expected to handle such things without his mother? And Marya always listened to his complaints, even if she sometimes slapped him if she considered his grievances stupid or petty.
Suddenly his wallowing was disrupted by someone kicking his side. He looked up to see Gendry standing over him.
"Dev, what are you doing out here?" he asked. "We're waiting for you in the hall."
Devan jumped up quickly. He had been too caught up in his own misery to remember that they were supposed to have a council meeting to discuss what to do now that the war was over.
"I'm coming," he said grumpily. "Hopefully we'll get out of this damn swamp soon."
***
"We can't trust the king. I know that now. He won't help us, he won't help anyone," Howland announced to the people gathered in the hall.
The words woke Devan up. He sat up straight in his chair to pretend he hadn't been sleeping. The movement was too swift though and he almost toppled backward. As he tried to save the situation he grabbed Ser Swann's shoulder to tilt himself back. Everyone in the room looked at him as he swayed.
"Sorry..." he said, as Gendry looked at him in despair. "Please go on, Lord Reed."
The plan was for the Baratheon armies to stay in the Neck for a few weeks longer to help Howland reinforce their defenses. This plan didn't appeal to Devan, but he didn't really have a say in the matter. So instead he had laid his head down on the table to catch a nap. Discussions around palisades, weaponry, and armies had quickly lulled him to sleep.
But this utterance piqued Devan's interest. His father served that king. And even if Devan hadn't forgiven his father he knew Davos was a good man. He wouldn't serve a king he didn't believe in.
"I can't tell you everything, because it might put you in danger," Howland continued. "But I hope you all believe me and my daughter when we say this. We can't trust him, and we can't follow him."
"So what can we do?" Ser Swann asked, looking adoringly towards Howland.
Ser Swann and Lord Reed had basically been inseparable since they arrived in the Neck. Spending their nights talking to each other for hours on the dock, and Devan was quite sure he had seen them retreat to Lord Reed's bedroom together one night. Apparently, they knew each other from before, from when they rebelled against the crown and put Robert Baratheon on the throne. And even though they not long ago had fought against each other those memories meant more.
"We can build support against him, and we can try to defend ourselves and each other. But we need to be careful. We don't know who we can trust. Things are happening in the kingdom, things the king might be behind. There's a lot of things in motion."
Howland pulled a letter from his jacket.
"This arrived from the Westerlands yesterday," he said. "Casterly Rock has fallen. The Iron Fleet took it from Tyrek Lannister."
"It was only a matter of time before someone took the castle from that poor boy," Ser Swann said. "Barely any armies and only one leg..."
"Can we do something?" Gendry asked. "I owe Tyrek for giving me Storm's End without a fight. Although he did try to marry me to his non-existing sister. And he did mess up the lock on my bedroom door... and for some reason, there are child drawings all over the walls of one of the other bedrooms."
Lock or no lock, Devan would certainly think twice before he entered Gendry's bedroom unannounced when they got back. Gendry and his wife spent most of their time locked into the dock house these days, and the sounds coming from there made it no secret what they were doing.
Despite having been caught up in siege against him for several years Devan did think fondly of Tyrek Lannister too. Tyrek had held the castle because he had to but it always seemed like he tried to keep the fighting to a minimum so few lives were lost.
"You would need a fleet to help him," Howland replied. "Since the Iron Fleet is stationed out in the bay defending the castle."
"I don't have a fleet," Gendry replied. "But I would still like to offer him my support if I can. Where can I find him?"
"No one knows where he is," Howland replied. "He and his wife escaped the castle, but haven't been seen since. They're not with his mother's family, the Marbrands, or with his wife's family, the Tarly's."
"I think I know where he might be," Meera said. I would start looking for him in the Eyrie."
"Why would he be there?" Gendry asked his wife.
"Because Robin is there," she replied. "They're... friends I think. We traveled with them to the Cross Roads Inn after the meeting in the capital. They bickered and fought but in the end, I think they became friendly. At Highgarden Robin let Tyrek surrender when he could have vanquished him. But he didn't. He let him live. I think would Tyrek trust him. Perhaps more than anyone else."
Howland nodded, it seemed to make sense to him. "But can anyone trust Lord Arryn?" he asked. "After what he did at the capital. He let the king kill his father-in-law, he gave the king his armies and walked away. He might be on the king's side. Or he might just be... as slow-minded as the rumors told he was as a child. It's unfortunate he's the only air Jon Arryn produced."
"I trust Robin Arryn," Gendry said. "I talked to him when I was in the capital. He gave me something from my father. He promised to be loyal to me and I believe him. And he didn't seem slow-minded. Young, inexperienced, and immature perhaps, but not slow."
"Not slow, but perhaps easy to trick," Meera said. "I think the king tricked Robin somehow. He used his youth against him and forced him to give up those armies."
"The king is just as young himself," Ser Swann said.
"He might look it young," Meera replied. "But he's not... he's ancient. He knows more than any of us. That's why he was elected, wasn't it?"
"That's what Tyrion Lannister claimed," Howland said with a sigh. "Bran's our memory, he knows everything that has happened and will happen. And we listened."
"I spoke to Tyrion when I was in the capital," Meera said. "I don't think he believes in the king anymore either."
"Can we trust his word?" Gendry asked. "Tyrion's the hand of the king. He sent his cousin to die."
"I think so," Meera replied. "I think just like us he realized his mistake too late. And now he's trapped. No one trusts him anymore. Not even his own family."
"Someone should go to the capital," Howland said. "To talk to Tyrion, and try to find out more about what the king is up to. Is there anyone in the capital we trust?"
That's when Devan Seaworth spoke up. He saw an opening to get out of this damn swamp and to get home to Storm's End sooner than expected. To get home to Brynda, his brothers, and his mother.
"My father," he said. "My father serves under the king. I trust him. Lord Baratheon trust him."
Gendry nodded as Devan spoke. "I do," he said. "I trust Davos with my life. He would tell us what he knows, and he wouldn't betray us."
Howland looked at Devan, a bit befuddled by his sudden eagerness to speak up. It seemed like he didn't think very highly of Devan. Which was probably to be expected since he had just fallen asleep during a council meeting.
"I can go there and talk to my father," Devan said. "I'll find out what he knows. And I'll try to talk to Tyrion Lannister if I can. Then I can go home to Storm's End after that."
Gendry gave him a worried look. "You need to be very careful, Dev," he said. "You don't know what the king can do. Don't do anything rash."
"I wouldn't, Lord Baratheon," he said. "You know I wouldn't do anything to risk not getting home to Brynda and my family again."
"I trust you, Dev," Gendry said. "And I think it's a good idea for you to go to the capital. You should leave as soon as possible."
Devan would leave the next morning for the capital. He would get out of the swamp he despised so much. He would talk to Tyrion Lannister. And he would come to regret it bitterly.
Chapter 9: Make the bad man fly
Summary:
Tyrion arrives at the Eyrie to talk to his cousin Tyrek (who has lost Casterly Rock and has been taken in by Robin Arryn).
Notes:
This might seem like an odd pov at this point, but hopefully, it will all make sense eventually. And if you're wondering how Tyrek ended up in the Eyrie I am also writing another story that features his and Robin's part of the story, that I will put up on AO3 eventually hopefully (it's on Wattpad currently, but it's still in progress and I usually don't put stuff up here until they're finished). There's actually a chapter that shows this exact event from Tyrek's POV in that story.
Chapter Text
Stairs, so many stairs. All the way up to the clouds. Tyrion sighed as he looked at them. Certainly not made to be traversed by a man with short legs.
The last time he was here he at least didn't have to walk up those stairs. That was the good thing about being held prisoner, you got carried up the stairs. His other memories of the Eyrie weren't as pleasant. But at least he had escaped being pushed out that damn hole in the floor by that spoiled brat of a boy who now called himself lord.
Hopefully, he would be as lucky this time.
Another sigh, then he started his journey up the stairs. One step at a time.
***
As he waited for his cousin to arrive Tyrion stood glancing down the moon door. Pondering how painful his death would have been if Robin Arryn had got his way, and he had been thrown out through it.
Tyrek sure was taking his sweet time arriving at the hall. But the boy was crippled so he probably should have patience with him.
He did feel sorry for what had happened to Tyrek. Of course, he did. He blamed himself.
He should have protected Tyrek. After all, he was all House Lannister had left. The only remaining male heir. Because Tyrion did not trust his own ability to produce heirs. He suspected that his physical condition prevented him from doing so. Since he, despite having had relations with many women, didn't have any known bastards. And even if he was able to produce children he worried they would look like him.
But Tyrek was everything a Lannister should be. Young, pretty, tall, charming, smart. And hopefully very fertile.
So Tyrion had given him everything. The castle, the title, a pretty wife. Everything needed for Tyrek to make their house rise again.
Then came Highgarden. Tyrek got trapped. He almost died. He lost most of his armies. He lost his leg.
And then he lost the castle.
Their house was now truly on its last leg. Pun intended.
Suddenly the door to the hall swung open and there he stood. Lord Tyrek Lannister, accompanied by Lord Robin Arryn.
It never ceased to amaze Tyrion how much his cousin looked like his own brother Jaime.
Maybe that's why he had saved him. Maybe that's why he had given him everything. He had done it for Jaime.
The crutches, and the absence of a left leg from the knee down, was hard not to notice. It was a bit jarring to see his cousin like this, even though Tyrion knew what had happened to him. To see such a young and handsome man irrevocably damaged.
Their eyes met. Tyrion saw hesitation and fear. Tyrek looked like he wanted to run away around. He averted his gaze and stopped in his tracks.
A deep breath. A pat on the hand by Robin. A whisper of encouragement. Then he looked up again. Eyes now filled with hatred and determination. And he continued forward on his crutches.
Hopefully, he wouldn't use those crutches to push Tyrion down the moon door. Tyrion moved to the side slightly so he wasn't perched right in front of the hole in the floor, just to be safe.
"Dear cousin," Tyrion said, trying to defuse the situation with a smile. "I figured I would find you here."
"Tyrion...." Tyrek replied, not smiling back. "How did you know I was here?"
"You weren't with your mother's family, or with your wife's family. So where else would you go? To the man who saved you of course."
Tyrion nodded towards Robin who stood at Tyrek's side. No one had ever thought that boy would amount to anything, but now he stood there as Lord of the Eyrie. Tall, healthy, and apparently about to become a father.
"That wasn't part of your plan, was it?" Tyrek said. "That Robin would save me. I was supposed to die at Highgarden. And now you're here to finish what you started. To ram a knife in my heart."
"You think I'm here to kill you?" Tyrion said with a light chuckle. "Even if I tried I don't think I could."
The thought of him trying to kill his cousin amused him. Even if he did want Tyrek dead, which he didn't, he wouldn't even ponder doing the deed himself.
"I'm a cripple, thanks to you," Tyrek said, looking down towards his missing leg. "I wouldn't be that hard to kill."
"I might still have both legs, but they're short as a dog's," Tyrion replied. "I wouldn't be able to reach your heart with a knife, dear cousin. And besides Lord Arryn is standing right next to you, I'm sure he would save you again."
Robin's hand touched Tyrek's again. It was curious how intimate they were with each other. More than he would expect from friends.
"I would," Robin said. "You're still a bad little man, and I can still make you fly. I would enjoy it."
Dammit, why was that boy still so obsessed with the hole in the floor? And why was he so protective of Tyrek?
"And I had hoped you would have forgotten about my last visit here, Lord Arryn, " Tyrion replied. "After all you were so much smaller then. Shorter than me even. I wish I would have hit a growth spurt in the same way as you."
He had hoped to talk to Tyrek alone but there seemed to be no opportunity for that. Robin wasn't leaving.
And his jokes and friendly demeanor didn't seem to make either of the boys less hostile towards him.
"I remember you coming here," Robin said. "And I still have the sky cells. I could place you there again if I don't throw you out the moon door. If you hurt or threaten Tyrek in any way I will."
So protective. It was curious. It made him wonder exactly what kind of relationship Tyrek and Robin had.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone," he said. "I'm here to make amends, dear cousin. I want to set things right."
"Well it's too late for that, isn't it?" Tyrek replied. "It's not like you can give me my leg back. So you can't set things right."
Of course, he was right. But Tyrion needed Tyrek to know the truth about what had happened.
"No, I can't. I know that," he said, taking a step closer to his cousin, hoping that perhaps he would take his guard down a bit. "Can we maybe sit down for a bit? It must be hard for you to stand on those crutches."
"I'm good standing," Tyrek said, readjusting his stance on the crutches. "I might be crippled, but I'm not weak."
"I know you're not weak, Tyrek. I was just hoping to get on eye level with you to tell my side of the story. I want to tell you what actually happened."
He took another step closer to his cousin. Tyrek didn't back off, but he glared suspiciously at his cousin.
"I know what happened," he said in a cold tone. "I got trapped on a battlefield because the king's men left me behind. I had to fight against a force twice the size of my own. I was covered in blood. I had screams of dying men ringing in my ears. I had a sword bury itself so deep into my leg that bone shards were sticking out. I would've died if Robin hadn't come and let me surrender. I was in excruciating pain for days while they transported me back to Casterly Rock. I screamed until I passed out when they sawed my leg off. And now I'm stuck hobbling around on crutches for the rest of my life. That's what happened to me. I don't care what you think happened. Whatever you did, you didn't stop it."
While Tyrek talked he gestured with his crutches. He had presence and charisma. He was a Lannister. Even when on crutches.
And he looked so much like Jaime when he spoke.
"I'm sorry..." Tyrion said."I never meant for any of that to happen. I didn't mean for you to be left on that battlefield. I didn't mean for you to get hurt."
"I don't care if you're sorry," Tyrek snapped. "You weren't there. You weren't scared. You weren't hurting. I was! While you were safe and sound in the capital."
There were tears and fury in Tyrek's eyes as he spoke.
Robin once again put his hand on top of Tyrek's hand, which clutched the crutch handle, seemingly trying to calm him down a bit.
"That sounds horrible," Tyrion said, taking one more step towards Tyrek. "I wish I could have prevented it, but I couldn't. When I found out it was too late."
"If you couldn't prevent it, of what use are you to me?" Tyrek replied. "Why should I trust you?"
Tyrion took another step closer to Tyrek. Close enough to touch him. He slowly raised his hand towards Tyrek's other hand, the one Robin wasn't already holding on to.
"I promise I won't hurt you," he said. "And I'm truly sorry for what happened."
He kept reaching out his hand. Tyrek didn't flinch or move. Although Robin looked like he was ready to kick him out the moon door at any moment.
Despite that Tyrion put his hand on top of Tyrek's. Patting it lightly.
Robin luckily wasn't in a kicky mood.
"I was tricked too," he said. "The king tricked us both. I think he wanted you not to trust me. To take power from me."
"And why should I believe that?" Tyrek said, his voice sounding softer than before.
"Because I'm your family. Why would I want you to get hurt? I've been a cripple my whole life. I would never wish that faith on you."
"If I died you would get the title and castle."
"I don't want the title and the castle. I gave them to you. Why would I try to take them? You are a far better Lannister than I am. You're handsome, smart, and kind. I was only ever smart, but I'm starting to think I'm not even that anymore."
"I'm not handsome anymore. I'm a damn cripple."
Tyrion had to smile a bit at that statement. His cousin was so naive and innocent. So unaware of the effects he could have on people.
"If you think you are less handsome because of your crutches you're a fool, Tyrek. Women, and men if that's what you want, love a wounded soldier. And just look at yourself, boy. You can't think that you're not pretty."
Finally a hint of a smile on the boy's lips.
"I guess perhaps I'm still a bit pretty," Tyrek said. "My wife says so all the time."
"You should listen to your wife," Tyrion replied. "She's a wise woman."
"Wiser than me. Look where my wits got me, I lost my castle and I'm hiding out here."
"You lost your castle because you lost your armies. That wasn't your fault, Tyrek. That was my fault."
Tyrek nodded and looked down towards Tyrion. Then he looked up again, a determined look in his eyes.
"I will take it back," he said. "Don't think I've given up."
"I can help you, Tyrek," Tyrion said. "That's why I came here. To offer my support."
"I don't want your help, Tyrion. I'm won't follow anyone else's order any longer. That only brought me misfortune. I will only follow myself. And I will take Casterly Rock back."
"How are you going to do that? You got no armies, no experience in politics, and well... you are crippled."
"It's not for you to know. I don't trust you. You are controlled by the king. And the king apparently wants to harm me. So I can't trust you, even if I would want to. I do believe your intentions are good, but that doesn't matter if those intentions are corrupted."
"I don't believe in the king anymore. I stopped believing in him after Highgarden. After what happened to you."
"But you still serve him. He still controls you."
"Because I have nowhere else to go. No one trusts me."
"With good reason. But you need to trust me, Tyrion. I need you to trust that I will do what I've promised to do. Without your help. I will take back that castle, I will make our house rise again. I will have heirs. I know it's all on me now, and I will do what I need to do. You gave me everything I have and I'm thankful for that. And you won't regret giving it to me."
"I do trust you, Tyrek. And I've never regretted what I gave you. But it's my fault you're in the position you're in."
"It is your fault. But I don't need you. Because how can I trust that you won't cause me to lose anything else? I've already lost too much. I can't lose anything else."
Everything Tyrion had done. Everything he had plotted. It had brought him here. But was here really where he wanted to be?
He had thought he could set things right. But he couldn't. The only thing he could do was walk away. House Lannister wasn't on his shoulders anymore. It was on Tyrek's shoulders, and Tyrek would find a way. He had to believe that.
The way to set things right wasn't by further interference, it was by stopping his interference.
He nodded. "Then I will go," he said. "I will trust you. Whole-heartedly. I've plotted and schemed my whole life. Clawed myself to the top. And I thought... I thought I could help you. But I realize now I can't. You don't need me."
"I don't," Tyrek said. "I just need you to trust me. Let me do what I need. Don't intervene. And House Lannister will rise again."
"I believe it will. I believe you will make it so. And I will walk away."
Tyrek moved his right hand from the crutch handle and stretched it towards Tyrion. They took each other's hands.
"Thank you," Tyrek said. "We can sit down now if you like. So we can talk eye to eye. Not because I can't stand..."
Then he hobbled over towards one of the benches around the moon door and sat down. He handed his crutches to Robin who put them away and then sat down next to him. Robin put one of his hands on Tyrek's leg in a defensive manner.
"I would like that," Tyrion said.
Finally, the boy had taken his guard down a bit. Tyrion walked over and jumped up on the bench as well. Now finally close enough to Tyrek to look him in the eyes. Proud emerald green eyes. Just like Jaime.
"I just wish you didn't hate me," Tyrion said. "You're the only family I got."
"I don't hate you, cousin," Tyrek replied, putting his hand on Tyrion's shoulder. "I do believe you when you say you didn't mean for any of this to happen. But it did happen and therefore I can't trust you."
"Then I didn't come here in vain. That's all I really wanted to know. That I haven't completely alienated the only family I have left."
"You haven't. You still have me. I'm still your family, and you are mine. It's only us left now. You, me, and Janei."
"Janei... I almost forgot about her. And guess that's what she wants. To not be a part of any of this."
Somehow Janei had escaped all the schemes and plans of House Lannister. After her father Kevan and her brothers died in the capital she and her mother had escaped to the seat of her mother's family, House Swift. And as far as Tyrion knew that's where she still was. But she was still a Lannister.
"And I would never force her to," Tyrek said, looking down at the floor slightly.
There was a weird look in his eyes. A hint of something. Something familiar to Tyrion. A scheme.
"But you will ask her to do something?"
"That's not for you to know. "
Janei must somehow be part of the plan for how to take back Casterly Rock. A marriage arrangement was in the works perhaps.
Tyrion just nodded, deciding not to pry further. It was better he didn't know. Because whatever he knew perhaps the king would find out as well.
"There's one more thing I need to tell both of you though," he said, looking over at Robin as well. "Something important for the future of the kingdom... Meera Reed or I guess she's Meera Baratheon now, she's the key to fighting him. Remember that."
"Fighting who?" Tyrek asked.
"The King, " Tyrion replied. "He's not good. I know this now. And he's not a man. Because he knows things no man would know."
"Why Meera?" Robin asked.
"There's something about her... he can't control her, he can't see her. She's the key. That's what I wanted you to know. If anything happens to me I need you to know that."
"What would happen to you?"
"Whatever he wants to happen to me... I'm already under his control. But you can still fight him."
"I'm a cripple, I can't fight anyone."
"Tyrek... look who you're talking to. I'm not a fighter either. But I've done what I can anyway, and so will you. You can fight him in your own way."
"You know he's right, Ty," Robin said. "You can still fight. You're still strong. You're stronger than me. And we'll fight together."
"You will all need to fight soon. No matter what. The kingdom will need you."
Tyrek and Robin nodded and took each other's hands. Always so affectionate and caring towards each other. It was almost cute.
"We'll do what we need," Tyrek said, a few blonde curls falling down over his eyes.
Tyrion nodded and smiled. Those curls looked so familiar.
"You know you look so much like him?" he asked.
"Jaime?" Tyrek said. "So I've been told. And I guess we met the same faith..."
"Yes, Jaime... Out of all of them, all the Lannisters who are now gone, he was the only one I truly cared about. And he was the only one who cared about me. He was everything I had once. Everything I could hold on to. And I see that when I look at you. He wasn't perfect, but he was kind to me when no one else was."
"He was kind to me too. After I came to the capital with uncle Kevan. I was training to be a knight but I was still too small and weak. Jaime saw me struggling and he helped me. He showed me how to hold a sword, how to stand, how to parry. I can't do any of those things anymore but I used to be good at it. That's why I was still alive when Robin came to Highgarden. Because Jaime taught me to fight."
"I'm glad he did. Because when I look at you it feels like he isn't completely gone. He lives through you. The good side of House Lannister lives in you. The side that's caring and kind. Not scheming and cunning. That's what we need, and that's why I will walk away. Because I'm not that. I'm not what House Lannister needs."
"I'm not sure I am either."
"That's why you are what we need. Because you're not arrogant, vain, and entitled. You don't assume you deserve anything, and that's why you deserve it."
Tyrion got up from the bench and stretched out his arm towards the still sitting Tyrek for an embrace. They held each other for a moment. Holding on to the only family they had left.
"Are you leaving?" Tyrek asked.
"I need to get back to the capital before the King realizes I've left," Tyrion said. "I've told you what I wanted to tell you. The rest is on you now."
"I'll do what I need," Tyrek said. "You can trust me."
Tyrion gave Tyrek one more look before he left.
One more look at those blonde curls and green eyes. One more look at everything that remained of his family. One more look at the boy who reminded him so much of everything he had lost.
From afar he really was the spitting image of Jaime.
Then Tyrion turned around and left. He had done what he came for. He had made amends, and he had delivered a crucial message.
And that message would be the last thing Tyrion ever told his cousin.
Chapter 10: You are not my family
Summary:
Gendry talks to Howland about his mother. Gets some new information and travels to perhaps find out where she came from.
Notes:
Honestly, this is not my favorite chapter. I might rewrite this part at some point and do something else with the storyline of who Gendry's mother is (I think the facts from here will remain, I might just frame how he finds his family differently). This feels a bit too brief.
Chapter Text
The night was bright and peaceful. The water was calm, not a breeze in the air. The lush green branches of the cypress trees created an alcove around Gendry as he sat on the dock outside Grey Water Watch. It felt safe here, like he was home. But it wasn't his home. It wasn't where he was from. It wasn't where he grew up. He knew Meera tried to make him feel like it was his home as well as hers but it never truly could be.
Cobblestones, brick walls, and dirty streets were where he came from. Nothing could ever change that.
As Gendry sat there he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw his father-in-law. A friendly but mischievous smile and a calm demeanor.
"Can I sit down, son?" Howland asked.
Gendry nodded and moved to the side a bit.
"She might not be coming back tonight," Howland said as he sat down.
Meera had gone on a scouting mission to the King's Road. Rumors were that hordes of refugees were arriving from the North to escape starvation. Since the war against the dead and the cold winter, there was scarcely anything to eat up there. The food situation wasn't great in the south either though so having additional hungry people arriving would cause problems. And Gendry suspected the king would do nothing about it, despite his sister being the Queen in the North.
It never ceased to amaze him that issues like feeding the whole kingdom were on his mind these days. He had certainly never thought about that as a blacksmith. Back then he had only tried to feed himself for the day. Which probably was exactly what all the people arriving from the North were trying to do too.
"I know," he said. "But I'll still wait for her."
"Are you planning on sitting here all night then?" Howland asked.
"Probably... the bed is too empty without her anyway."
"You need to get some sleep, son. Surely you were able to sleep before you married."
"I didn't know what it was like to have her next to me then."
"Well, now the whole swamp knows what it's like..." Howland said with a chuckle before he restrained himself. "Sorry, I know you don't like it when I comment on your bedroom habits."
"It's not really what you want your father-in-law to talk about... " Gendry replied, looking down at the black water.
"You know I'm just teasing you, son," Howland said and put his hand on Gendry's shoulder.
"I guess I'm not used to teasing from parents."
"If Robert would have known you I'm sure he would have teased you too. That man could never shut up about anything. Many were the stories I heard of his escapades in taverns and brothels."
A thought rose in Gendry's mind. Maybe Howland could give him the answer to a question he thought never would be answered.
"Did he ever... tell you about a blonde girl he bedded who worked at the Dragon Tail's tavern? It must have been soon after he became king. You were there in the capital with him then, weren't you? "
Howland gave him a curious look like he was trying to discern why Gendry was asking.
"I was... I stayed there with him for close to a year. Trying to help him get over Lyanna and at the same time learning to rule. It was a lot for him."
"That's when... he sired me I guess. You must have been with him when he did."
"Was she your mother? The girl at the Dragon's Tail?"
"She was. But I don't know anything more about her. Not even her name. She died when I was still a toddler. I only remember seeing her once."
Howland looked into the distance, suddenly deeply entrenched in memories of a time lost. Memories he hadn't visited for a long time. Walking through them trying to find the answer Gendry was looking for.
"Annara..." he said suddenly. "That was her name. I was with him at the tavern the night he met her. Blonde, sweet, and young. The opposite of Lyanna. I know he went there often after that. Until she got pregnant I guess..."
Suddenly, just like that. A name. A life. A woman. Brought back to life. His mother. She had existed. She had been real.
And her name had been Annara.
Words escaped him. To have the name just revealed to him like that after all these years was overwhelming.
Howland seemed to sense this and kept talking.
"I tried to... keep him from her that first night. She looked too young. Almost still a child. I brought her to my table and talked to her. I was already married to Jyana so I had no interest in other women, or men for that matter, at the time. She told me about her home, in the Riverlands. Where the green river forks and the water falls. That's what she said. Then he took her, she smiled at him and he led her into the backroom."
"I guess I should be grateful you didn't manage to keep him from her. But it's hard to be."
"That's life I guess. One person falls so another can rise. Somehow there's balance in the end."
"I think she named me after someone... someone back where she was from. Gendry is a Riverlands name. Gendry Rivers is what she called me at the orphanage. It should have been Waters I guess since I'm born in the capital."
"But she wanted you to know where she was from."
"I think so. Maybe she wanted me to be able to find my way back there. To where she was from. To who I was named for."
"It's not far from here you know. The Green Fork River. You can get there in a day or two."
"I might not find anything."
"You might not. But at least you've seen it."
"I would like to see it. I know where my father grew up now: I would want to know where my mother spent her first years as well."
"Then go there. Ask if anyone remembers Annara."
"You need me here, to reinforce your defenses."
"I think I'll be fine without you and Meera for a few days. Ser Swann can oversee your men in the meantime."
Gendry nodded. Still, a bit overwhelmed about the possibility of actually having a family.
"I've never had a family," he said. "But what if I don't find them? Or they want nothing to do with me?"
"Then at least you tried. Then you can move on."
Howland got up from the dock, brushing off his pants slightly. As he turned around he gave Gendry a light pat on the back.
"Come on, son," he said. "You can't wait here all night, she'll find you if she comes. Let's go inside and have some ale together. Then we'll see if I can rattle up some more memories of my time in the capital with Robert."
Gendry thought about it for a moment and then decided to join Howland. He could just as well do something instead of waiting for his wife all night.
***
A few days later Gendry and Meera stood by a green river. Algae on the bottom gave the river its name and it sparkled in shades of turquoise and teal. They were dressed in the clothes of the common people. Here in the countryside people were wary of nobility and would perhaps not answer their questions truthfully if they looked like nobility.
On their way there they had encountered many of the refugees fleeing the starvation in the North. But the situation in the Riverlands was hardly better. Ravaged by wars and uproar many of the cottages they passed by appeared to be empty. Some were burned and others had just collapsed. The people they met appeared dirty and starving.
When talking to people many seemed to not even know who ruled the region. Edmure Tully hadn't made his mark. Instead, he hid in his castle, afraid his people would rise against him if he dared to venture outside.
Still, the river was beautiful. Flowing slowly through the lush landscape. Vast sandy river banks allowing travelers and locals to venture into it. Green water so clear that pale stones on the bottom could be seen.
They had asked people on their way if anyone knew about a woman named Annara. Or perhaps a man named Gendry. And they had been pointed towards this spot. Where the river forked and the river fell. Just like Gendry's mother had told Howland all those years ago.
In front of them was a waterfall and after that, the river split into two. In the middle, between the two forks, laid a cottage.
The cottage was small but well kept. Not like the dilapidated houses they had seen on the way there. Ivy climbing its walls and flowers growing neatly around it.
No one appeared to be around.
But a sound was heard. Loud banging. Metal against metal. Gendry knew that sound. The sound of forging weapons.
On the other side of the cottage, there was a workshop. An old man stood among the burning ovens and workbenches.
The man turned around as they walked up. Short, stocky, with grey hair standing in all directions.
"Are you Gendry?" Gendry asked the man.
The man nodded but looked hesitant and suspicious of them.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm... looking for someone who knew a woman named Annara," Gendry said.
"Annara was my daughter," the man said. "She left many years ago, I heard she died in the capital."
So that was it. The moment seemed smaller than he had imagined. No sudden emotional connection. No outbursts of joy. Just an old man standing in front of him. His grandfather.
"She was my mother," Gendry replied.
The man just nodded. Looking down at his hand that was still holding the hammer he used in the workshop.
"The bastard boy," the man said. "The boy who brought shame to our family. What do you want? I don't have money or anything else to give you."
"I wanted to know where I'm from, that's all," Gendry replied.
"Well, here it is. It's not much. No fancy castles or riches."
"I don't want anything from you."
"You can't fool me, boy. Of course, you want something. I've heard what it's like in the capital. How people starve. So you came here hoping for me to feed you. You and your girl over there, she's probably expecting your bastard child already."
The man pointed over at Meera who stood behind Gendry.
"I've told you I don't want anything," Gendry said in a determined voice. "And Meera is my wife. I might be a bastard but I'm an honorable man. I came here to see where my mother came from and to meet my family. But I realize now there's nothing here for me. Because you are not my family. You didn't care about her and you don't care about me."
"Why would I care about you? You are just a bastard boy."
Gendry took a few steps backward, taking Meera's hand. Getting ready to leave.
"I am a bastard boy," he said. "And I'm not ashamed of that. I'm Annara's son. I'm a simple blacksmith from the capital. But I'm also the son of Robert Baratheon. Legitimized by the dragon queen as his heir. I'm the holder of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. I'm the husband of Lady Meera Reed. I'm Gendry Baratheon and I'm your grandson."
"Annara named you after me..." the man said. At last, there was an emotion in his eyes, a recognition of something he had lost.
"She did, despite what you did to her. But you will never get to know me. And I hope you regret that one day."
Then he turned around and left, leaving his only living blood relative behind. Standing where the green river forked and the water fell. There was nothing for him here. No family. No bond. No connection.
But it didn't matter. Because Gendry Baratheon already had a family.
He had an incredible wife in Meera. He had an understanding father in Howland. He had an annoying little brother in Devan. He had a stern mother in Marya.
And soon he would have his own children.
Four children he would have. Two girls and two boys.
Chapter 11: Shenanigans
Summary:
It's a Stannis Seaworth chapter! Stannis is back at Storm's End and hangs out with Brynda, Steffon, and a heretofore unknown friend (if you've read the Tyrek chapter in my one-shot series Snowfall you might recognize this person... )
Chapter Text
In the castle of Storm's End, Stannis Seaworth sat under a table in the library. Next to him was a pile of books. The library was where he spent most of his time. Among the high bookshelves reaching almost all the way to the ceiling. The huge room was round and took up a whole floor of the tower. The bookshelves wrapped around each other in a spiral shape, and it was easy to get lost here if you didn't know your way around. But Stannis did.
He had read most of the books in the library at this point, except the ones in Old Valyrian. Although he was working on translating them because he wanted to know all the secrets of the world they lived in. Knowledge was what he strived for most in life.
One day Stannis would become a maester. That was his dream. Having to pledge to a life without a wife and family didn't concern him. It was not what he wanted out of life anyway.
But reading was not the only reason he was in the library so much.
While entrenched in a book on the history of the Andals Stannis also kept peaking towards the aisle of bookshelves in front of him. Waiting to see the shadow of someone. Waiting to hear familiar footsteps. Waiting to be greeted by a sweet smile.
Away from his mother's prying eyes, this was where they met.
Stannis looked down at the book again, starting to give up hope. He focused on the words in front of him instead, forgetting everything else while he threw himself into the world of the book. Mighty kings, charming queens, and evil sorcerers started to enact scenes in his head. Battles between good and evil were fought.
"Hey, did you notice me coming?" a voice next to him suddenly said. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was put on guard duty in the courtyard instead of inside the castle, so I couldn't sneak away."
Stannis looked upon a cheeky smile, dark locks of hair, and warm brown eyes. The yellow guard uniform was still a bit loose on the young man's narrow frame. But despite only being a few years older than Stannis he had already worked in the castle for many years. All through the years when it was held by Tyrek Lannister.
"You know I'm not going anywhere, Bastian," Stannis replied. "You'll find me here anytime."
"And I'll always want to find you," the young man responded.
Stannis closed the book he was holding in his lap and put it on the floor next to him. He wanted to make sure it didn't become damaged. Then he leaned over towards Bastian who was crouched next to him.
Their lips met in a kiss.
Not a first or second kiss but the kind of kiss you share with someone you're already very close and comfortable with. The kind of kiss you share with someone you know loves you back.
Their eyes had met the first day when Stannis arrived at the castle. Somehow they both felt a connection just by a look. Somehow they knew that they were the same.
A few days later Bastian had found Stannis in the library during his guard duty shift there. They had discussed books and messed around as boys do. Wrestling, throwing stuff at each other, and playing tag. Sometimes Steffon also joined in the childish games. And they had kept meeting there every day since.
Once they finally kissed it didn't feel weird, it felt natural and obvious. It was Stannis' first kiss, but not Bastian's.
They had a plan. Stannis would go to Old Town to become a maester and Bastian would accompany him. When Lord Baratheon came back Stannis would ask him to arrange this. To have a guard accompany him would not be a weird request since Stannis was not a fighter, he just had to ensure that Bastian was chosen for the task.
"Are you sure your mother won't come in here?" Bastian asked. "I saw her in the hallway, scolding Lord Penrose. Apparently, he had not dried off his boots before entering the Great Hall."
"She never checks on me in here," Stannis replied. "Although since Dev left she does have a lot more time on her hands, as she doesn't have to constantly patrol the castle for him and Brynda. The thought of having bastard grandchildren enrages her."
"You know she terrifies me. I wouldn't want to know what she would do if she found us."
"My mother terrifies everyone. It's the way she likes it. And I wouldn't want to know either. Although at least what we do won't give her any bastard grandchildren... But she won't find us. Because I'm not a moron like my brother. I can hide my urges and I know how to placate my mother."
"I've never heard her be angry at you about anything. I've heard her disparage Devan so many times and I've seen her chase Steffon through the hallways screaming at him to sit still. But never you."
"It's the way I like it. If I don't draw her attention towards me I can do whatever I want. I can be with you. Because I'm the calm, obedient child who earned her trust. Stannis Seaworth would never be up to any shenanigans."
"Shenanigans? Is that what I am called now."
"You are definitely shenanigans."
Stannis leaned over towards Bastian again for another kiss.
This was definitely shenanigans. The best kind of it. The kind not even Marya Seaworth could stop.
The kiss came to a sudden halt as Stannis saw a movement in the corner of his eye, on the other side of the bookshelf next to him. He signaled to Bastian to be quiet and peered through the books.
A woman walked among the books, seemingly looking for something. Stannis had never seen her visit the library before.
Stannis crawled out from under the table, leaving Bastian behind.
"What are you doing here, Brynda?" he asked.
Brynda looked up, not at all surprised to see him. After all, she was trained in combat, so it was hard to surprise her.
"I'm looking... for something," she said. "A book about women I guess."
"Women... how do you mean?" Stannis asked. "I know what most books here are about."
Brynda looked slightly guilty, but she didn't seem keen to talk about this with him.
"Just show me where the books about the human body are," she said in a rushed tone.
Maybe Brynda thought Stannis was stupid. Or too young to understand. But he wasn't. He knew what kind of books she meant. And he knew why she needed them.
"You're with child, aren't you?" he asked. "I mean I know you and Dev... shared a bed before he left. My bed in fact... "
Brynda looked at him with exasperation in her eyes. Stannis moved a step backward to make sure she didn't slap him.
"Don't tell anyone, Stan," she said. "Especially not your mother."
"I promise," he said.
"You better keep that promise. Or I will tell Marya about what you and Bastian were doing under that table. You might think you're discrete but I know exactly what you were doing in here."
Perhaps Stannis had underestimated Brynda as well. She wasn't stupid either.
"What will you do though?" he asked. "It's not like you can keep it a secret forever. My mother will find out, she finds out everything."
"Dev will be back soon..." she said. "Hopefully your father will have talked to my cousin by then so they let us marry. And no one will know. Now give me that book, Stan!"
Stannis reached down and picked up a book that he knew contained information about pregnancy and childbirth. He assumed that's what she wanted.
Brynda snatched it out of his hand and walked out of the library in a hurry. Hopefully not too upset to hide that book from Marya if she passed her in the hallway.
As Stannis turned around to join Bastian under the table again he heard a sound above him and looked up.
"Steff," he said. "I can see you. Come down from there."
His little brother's face soon appeared peaking down from the bookshelves.
"I'd rather be up here," the boy said.
"Well, I've promised mother to watch you," Stannis replied. "So I would prefer if you didn't kill yourself."
Steffon sighed and reluctantly climbed down from the bookshelf, using the shelves as steps.
"You're not watching me though, Stan," he said. "You're kissing Bastian under the table."
"You weren't supposed to see that..."
"I can see and hear a lot from up on the shelves. Like what you and Brynda talked about."
Apparently, everyone knew what everyone was doing in the library... Even the ten-year-old boy. It was a wonder Marya hadn't found out about any of this.
"Don't tell mother," Stannis said since that was always the most important thing to keep in mind. "And you're too young to know what that was about anyway"
"I understand a lot..." Steffon replied. "I know Dev will be in a lot of trouble when he gets home."
"When is Dev not in trouble..."
That was true. But both brothers knew that Dev probably was in bigger trouble than usual this time.
What they didn't know was that Dev wouldn't come home.
Chapter 12: Something needs to be done, part A
Summary:
Devan goes to the capital. Talks to his father and to Tyrion Lannister.
Chapter Text
From afar King's Landing looked beautiful at night. The full moon lit up the winding streets and reflected in the dark waters of the harbor. Above it, the castle loomed. Its intricate walls and towers created shadows that stretched out over the entire city. Reminding the citizen that the castle was always there, watching over them. Controlling them.
Up close King's Landing wasn't as beautiful. The streets were eerily quiet even for this hour. Mice and cats were no longer roaming the streets. Such creatures had already been eaten by the starving citizens. Some noise was heard though, from the waste piles as desperate people rummaged for something to eat. Evidence of what happened when no food could be found was seen right nearby as the corpses of the ones who didn't make it lined the streets.
In the castle that watched over a dying city, a man was still awake. Plagued by the responsibilities thrust upon him and how powerless he was despite those responsibilities. Once he had been a child on those streets where people now laid dying. He wanted to save them, but he couldn't.
A knock on the door of his study made him look up.
"Lord Seaworth," a maid said on the other side of the door. "Your son is here."
Davos looked up in surprise from the desk where he was sitting entrenched in work. He was trying to figure out how to use their meager fleet to transport food up to the North. That was the king's current order, to help his sister feed her citizens. Despite his own citizens starving and his sister being the one who chose to be the queen of her own kingdom. And the king's orders needed to be obeyed.
To be culpable or to be a traitor. That was his choice. It wasn't an easy choice. After all, Davos had a wife and three children to feed. One of whom seemed to be on his doorstep at this very moment.
"Devan?" he said. "What is he doing here at this hour?"
It was shortly after midnight and Davos himself should be in bed already. So Devan should also be in bed. Sure, he wasn't a kid anymore but he still shouldn't be walking around the capital in the guise of darkness. The capital was not a safe place at night. Or during the day.
"He wouldn't say, my lord. He's waiting for you in the sitting room."
Reluctantly Davos put away his work for the night. There was a lot left to figure out but it would have to wait until tomorrow. And he would rather see his son anyway.
Davos' quarters in the castle were spacious. His whole family could have fit there but he figured they were safer at Storm's End. A lot of things were in motion and the capital could be a dangerous place to be.
As he entered the sitting room his son was standing there. So tall. So handsome. So adult. Since Davos had been away for so many years he had missed the progress of Devan growing up, suddenly he was just a man instead of a boy.
His hair was standing on end as always. Someone should give that boy a hairbrush. And his shirt was wrinkly. Perhaps the boy wasn't quite grown up yet. He seemed to still need his mother to make sure he looked proper.
"My son," he said and embraced Devan, despite feeling a slight reluctance from his son.
"Father," Devan replied after loosening himself from Davos' grip. "Why are your staff calling you Lord Seaworth?"
"Oh right, you don't know. The king made me a lord a few weeks ago. I sent a letter to your mother at Storm's End to tell you all."
"I was in the Neck with Lord Baratheon."
"So I've heard... The king is not too pleased."
Devan nodded slightly and looked around the room. When his eyes fell on a couch he looked pleased and immediately walked over and threw himself down on it, spreading his tall body across it. Davos rolled his eyes slightly at his son's lack of manners but sat down in an armchair next to his chair. Hopefully, his son didn't act like this when around other company than his parents.
"So if you're a lord... and I'm your heir," Devan said. "That means I'll be a lord one day too?"
Davos nodded. One day, when he was dead, Devan would be a lord.
"Then I can marry Brynda?" Devan asked, sounding hopeful and enthusiastic.
"I don't see what would stop you," Davos replied. "Lady Brienne seems to approve of the marriage as well."
A smile graced Devan's face, lighting up the whole room. And he got up and embraced his father, with no hesitation or reluctance this time.
"Thank you, father," he said.
"You're welcome, son," Davos replied. "Although I didn't really do anything."
Devan released his grip on Davos and stepped back. He sat down on the couch again, but not lounging on it like before. Suddenly he looked serious. Devan rarely looked serious.
"That's not why I'm here though," he said. "I need to talk to you, and to Tyrion Lannister if that's possible. I need to talk to you about the king."
Davos put his hand on Devan's shoulder. "It's about time someone talks about him," he said. "But let's go to my study, away from prying eyes."
Devan looked around as if he wondered if someone was watching. There wasn't anyone there but you could never be sure who had their ear to the door. Then he nodded and got up from the couch.
Still, with his hand on Devan's shoulder, Davos led his son up the stairs.
"Lord Baratheon sent you?" Davos asked as they were walking.
"Lady Baratheon sent me," Devan replied.
Davos had known a Lady Baratheon before. She had not been good. She had burnt her own daughter.
But this one was certainly better. He trusted Gendry's judgment when it came to picking his wife. Or perhaps she had picked him.
"That boy certainly was fast to get married once he became a lord," Davos said and chuckled slightly. "I hope she'll make Gendry happy. He deserves it."
"Gendry definitely seems happy, annoyingly so," Devan replied with a cheeky smile. "I basically have to pry them away from each other."
"If he's anything like his father I guess there will be new Baratheons soon then..."
Once in Davos' study, they sat down on each side of the desk in the far end of the room, away from the door. Davos had made sure the door was closed and locked. It should be safer to talk here as the walls were thick and the only adjacent room was Davos' bedroom, where no one should be.
Then they talked about the king. Who he was and who he wasn't.
Davos believed every word his son said. Because that was the kind of man he was. He believed Devan, he believed Gendry, and he believed Meera. And he had seen proof of the king's dubious intentions himself already.
Something needed to be done. And the Seaworths would have to put the events in motion.
***
A few weeks later Devan was still in the capital. Stuck waiting for Tyrion Lannister to arrive back. The hand of the king was supposedly in the Westerlands surveying the unstable situation in the wake of Yara Greyjoy taking Casterly Rock. The people in the lands didn't respect her and infighting between different houses had broken out after the power switch. Tyrion had gone there in the hopes that a Lannister could perhaps sort out the situation. And since no one knew where Tyrek Lannister had gone Tyrion was the only Lannister available.
At least that's what Tyrion had told the king. But the story Tyrion had told Davos was something else. And Davos had told his son the real story. Tyrion had gone to the Eyrie instead, hoping to find his cousin there. To advise Tyrek regarding how to retake their castle. And to tell him how to fight the king.
In his absence, Tyrion had asked Davos to keep an eye on the king. To see if he could tell where he was. Because Tyrion had a theory. He believed that the king wouldn't be able to see where he was since he went to the Eyrie because of what Meera had told him. And the king couldn't see Meera. He couldn't see what she did. So he shouldn't be able to see what the events that she affected either.
Devan didn't mind being in the capital. It was much drier than the Neck. And the castle had food aplenty. Although he felt a bit bad about eating so much when he saw people starving on the streets of the capital. Couldn't the king give some of the food in the castle to the commoners?
Of course, he still missed Brynda. But he would see her soon again, And he knew now that he would be able to marry her now. Devan was ecstatic about that.
His lodgings in the capital were comfortable. He stayed in the guest room in Davos' quarters. The bed was giant and the pillows were fluffy.
This morning Devan was still laying in bed despite it being almost noon. Devan liked to sleep and he had no obligations to tend to currently. His father grumbled a bit about his morning habits but let his son sleep in if he wanted to. Davos even made sure that the maids served Devan breakfast at whatever hour he decided to get up. Even if it was a more proper hour for lunch.
As Devan laid there pondering if he should get up or not he heard a knock on the door.
"Son," Davos said. "Tyrion has arrived back. If you get up quickly you should be able to talk to him before he talks to the king."
This was enough for Devan to leave his cozy bed. The sooner he could talk to Tyrion the sooner he could leave the capital. The sooner he could marry Brynda.
He jumped into his clothes, ran his fingers through his hair a few times, and then went down the stairs. On his way towards the sitting room, he grabbed a few pieces of bread in the kitchen. Even if he didn't have time to eat a proper breakfast he still needed to eat something.
Davos raised an eyebrow as Devan walked in. "Couldn't you at least have brushed your hair, son?" he asked.
"I did..."
"Your hand is not a hairbrush. That doesn't count. And tuck your shirt in, boy. You'll be a lord a day, you need to look like one."
Devan did as his father told him. Shirt tucked into pants. And he pulled his fingers through his hair a few more times to try to flatten it down a bit.
"Should I come with you, son?" Davos asked.
"I'll be good on my own," Devan said. "If... the king finds out it's better you're left out of this. For mother's and my brothers' sake."
Suddenly Devan felt a bit nervous. What he was about to tell Tyrion was risky. It could have consequences for him and the whole kingdom. His father had told him he could trust Tyrion and hopefully, that was true.
***
Devan was shown into Tyrion's study by one of the king's guard members. A young man with anxious eyes, a sweet smile, and a friendly demeanor. Ser Payne, they called him.
Tyrion stood on the balcony as Devan entered, looking out over the city.
"Lord Lannister," Ser Payne said. "Devan Seaworth is here to see you."
Tyrion turned around a surprised look on his face. But the surprise soon turned into something else. Understanding of the situation. Like he quickly put together the facts in his head about who must have sent Devan. He was a clever man, after all, Devan had been told. Perhaps the most clever one in the whole kingdom.
Tyrion waited as Ser Payne closed the door before he spoke.
"Meera sent you," he said, matter a fact. "Lady Baratheon I mean. You should have seen the look on the king's face when he got that wedding announcement..."
Devan nodded and went over towards the balcony. He sat down on the railing to be on an equal level with Tyrion. It felt weird to speak to a man he towered so high above.
"Meera said she spoke to you before," Devan said. "That we can trust you."
"You can trust me," Tyrion replied. "I believe what she believes. Although I'm not sure I can speak the words out loud here."
It did seem risky to say it so close to the king. The king they didn't believe in. The king who wasn't Bran Stark. The king who wasn't good.
Even though he probably couldn't hear them. If what they believed regarding Meera's role was true.
"My father told me you tried to find your cousin," Devan said. "Did you?"
Tyrion nodded. "Tyrek was... where I thought he would be. I offered him my help. And I told him what I know about the king."
"Did he believe you?"
"I think so. He and Lord Arryn both seem to be on our side. They were both victims of his games. They lost more than any of us."
Devan did feel for Tyrek Lannister. They had never spoken but he had seen him every day on those walls when they held Storm's End under siege. Just a boy about his own age. In another situation maybe they could have been friends.
"Is Tyrek alright?" he asked.
"Tyrek's... as alright as he can be," Tyrion replied. "There's no cure for a lost leg. But he's a Lannister. He's determined and he's smart. And he doesn't need my help it appears."
"He's planning to take the castle back?"
"He is. And he will. I believe in him."
Devan nodded slowly. Hopefully, Tyrion was right. Because they needed a Lannister in Casterly Rock for this plan to work.
"And what about Lord Arryn?" he asked. "Do you think we can trust him?"
"Robin is... fickle," Tyrion said. "I still don't know why that boy did what he did. But I believe Tyrek knows, and Tyrek trusts him. So I guess I do too. And I think they're a package deal at this point, they seem very... close."
"It makes sense that they're friends after what happened to them."
Tyrion smiled coyly like he wasn't quite sure how to put the information he was about to divulge.
"I think Robin and Tyrek are more than friends..." he said. "I've seen men look at each other as they do before. It's not how married men should look at each other."
Devan had seen this look too. He had seen how his brother Stannis looked at the handsome guard stationed in the library. Of course, he had never told his brother this, it would embarrass him terribly. And Devan didn't really care who Stannis looked at anyway.
"They're... lovers you mean," he said, not feeling the need to beat around the bush about it.
"I believe so," Tyrion said, smiling at Devan's candor. "Not that it matters. They can do what they want. As long as my cousin likes women well enough to have children with his wife I don't care who else he sleeps with. But it might matter in convincing them to fight on our side."
"So we will fight?"
"I think we will have to. Maybe not now, but soon. When we've made the necessary preparations. When the king doesn't expect it."
Devan pulled his hand through his hair, suddenly feeling a bit nervous about what was ahead. To suddenly find himself in the middle of an uprising against the king. But he was also looking forward to it. His father had fought, and now it was his turn. But the question was for who.
"There needs to be someone to take the throne once the fight is over," he said.
Tyrion looked at the boy in front of him for a moment. Like he hadn't realized that Devan didn't know the answer to that question. And the answer was obvious.
"I think you know who that would be, Devan," he said. "You're your father's son. You're not dumb. There's one man in this kingdom with an actual claim to the throne."
Devan looked out over the city as he pondered. He knew what Tyrion was thinking and he had thought it himself too, but he'd never said it out loud. But now he did.
"...Gendry," he said.
Tyrion nodded and positioned himself next to Devan. They both looked out over a scarred city, where houses were fallen and people were starving. Where nothing ever got better, it only got worse.
"Lord Gendry Baratheon," Tyrion said. "The son of the former king. A man of this city. And he happens to be married to the woman who can bring down the current holder of that throne. Funny how that worked out."
"Gendry barely knows how to be a lord," Devan said. "My brother just taught him how to read."
"That may be true, but Gendry's still our only hope. If he could learn how to read I'm sure he can learn other things as well. And he's a good man. Perhaps it's time for a good man to be a king."
"He is a good man. I don't know a lot of things, my mother and father tell me that constantly, but I do know that."
Tyrion appeared lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Thoughts of what he had done. Thoughts of what he still needed to do. Thought of the game that never stopped.
"After everything I've done. After everything that's happened," he said, more to himself than to Devan. "I would've never thought I would stand here and propose that we once again put a Baratheon on the throne. That I would suggest another rebellion. That I would suggest we'll do it all over again. But this is where our, well my, mistakes have brought us. And it's what we have to do."
Devan just nodded. His father had smuggled goods into Storm's End during the last rebellion to support Stannis Baratheon's hold of the castle. It seemed like he would get to stand on the side of a Baratheon during a rebellion too.
There were worse men to fight for. But perhaps few better.
"Something needs to be done," he said. "And if putting Gendry on the throne is what is needed, then let's do it. I don't think he has even thought it himself though."
"You'll have to present the idea for him," Tyrion said. "He needs to be in on the plan before we can put it in motion."
And so a plan was born. A plan to bring down the king. And to put a bastard blacksmith on the throne. Because he could be the only one able to heal the injured city below them.
Devan left Tyrion's study a while later, after planning out the details of what they needed to do next. They needed to ensure the support of the Redwyne's somehow because their powerful fleet would be crucial in any war.
They also needed to ensure the support of Edmure Tully. But he's really unimportant in this story so don't dwell on him too much. The author will probably forget about him.
Ser Payne stood outside the door as Devan stepped out.
"Do you need me to follow you back to Davos' quarters?" he asked. "The castle can be tricky to find your way around."
Devan shook his head and pulled his hand through his hair. "I'll be fine," he said. "I'll find my way back by myself."
"Just don't blame me if you get lost," Ser Payne said with a smile.
Devan returned the smile. Then he turned around and started walking down the corridor. He wouldn't get lost, because he knew the right path to walk now. The path towards a rebellion.
And there would be a rebellion. A fight to take down the king. An attempt to put someone else on the throne.
But neither Devan nor Tyrion would be part of starting it.
They would have to fall for the winds of rebellion to start blowing. For the storm to begin.
Chapter 13: Something needs to be done, part B
Summary:
It all goes down, and Tyrion and Devan go down with it.
Chapter Text
On a balcony that overlooked the city he sat. The king who they planned to overturn. He stared into the distance as usual. As he did he saw his kingdom in front of him. He saw the board on which the game was played. He saw the past and the future. He saw the beginning and the end of everything.
But he didn't see it all. Not anymore. Because she had ruined it.
Parts of the kingdom had disappeared from his view. They had turned foggy and unclear. So many of the pieces he had painstakingly put in place on the board were suddenly obscured.
The Neck. The Stormlands. And now the Eyrie and the Westerlands.
The king knew why. He knew it was because of her. Meera Reed. He refused to recognize her new last name.
He hadn't expected this. Perhaps he should have. But Meera wasn't supposed to matter. She was supposed to stay in her swamp with her crocodiles and mind her own business. She was supposed to be of no consequence.
She certainly wasn't supposed to marry the only man in the kingdom with a legitimate claim to the throne. A bastard blacksmith who probably didn't even know how to read.
The consequences of everything Meera did were clear to the king now. Anyone she talked to, anyone she touched, anyone she loved. They all disappeared from his view as well.
He needed to stop it.
And he would start with stopping Tyrion Lannister.
Tyrion had said he had gone to the Westerlands to try to solve conflicts between the minor houses. But that's not where he had been. The king knew that.
Tyrion must have been at the Eyrie. He must have talked to his crippled cousin who was supposedly hiding there. Bran couldn't see it but he could see the fog now hanging over the place. Meera had talked to Tyrion and Tyrion had talked to Tyrek and Robin. And now they were all gone from his view.
If he didn't stop it now the whole kingdom would soon disappear. He would lose his grip on it. He wouldn't be able to do what he had set out to do. He wouldn't be able to put an end to the story.
He would deal with the hand of the king first.
Then he would take care of the girl who wasn't supposed to matter and her damn bastard blacksmith.
***
Tyrion still stood on the balcony when the king entered his study. He sipped a glass of wine. Pondering how he was turning into his late sister. Or his father. He wasn't sure which was worse.
The king asked Ser Payne to put his wheelchair in the middle of the room and then leave. Tyrion didn't even turn around to acknowledge the king's presence in the room.
"You're back," the king said, in his usual toneless manner.
"I am," Tyrion answered, still looking at the city.
"You weren't in the Westerlands."
There was no use in denying it. If the king knew, he knew.
"I was not," Tyrion simply said.
"You talked to your crippled cousin," the king replied.
"I did. But I don't think you're in any position to call Tyrek crippled..."
"What did you tell the boy?"
"You don't know? I thought you knew everything."
"No one can know everything."
"That makes me happy to hear," Tyrion said and turned around, a smile on his face. "You're not without flaws."
The wine made him feel powerful. Maybe a bit reckless. And of what threat to him was the king? He was stuck in a wheelchair anyway, he couldn't actually hurt anyone. So he went up towards the boy, who really was no boy at all, and put his hand on his knee.
"And you can't control everything," he said. "Because you can't control her. That's the truth, isn't it? Meera Baratheon is messing up your plans."
"Her name is Meera Reed," the king said as a glimmer of emotion flashed in his eyes. "She shouldn't have married that bastard."
Tyrion let out a light chuckle. He couldn't help it.
"Are you actually... jealous of him?" he asked. "You, the mighty and powerful king is jealous of Gendry Baratheon because he married your girl."
"I don't feel such emotions," the king replied, but the emotion was still there in his eyes. Anger it looked like.
"Oh, I think you do. But you don't want to admit it. You don't want to admit that deep down, under all that emotionless facade, you actually care. You're just a young boy in love with a girl. And you hate it."
Tyrion walked back towards his balcony, still balancing his wine glass in his hand. Once again looking out over the city. Feeling more hopeful now than earlier. Perhaps they could still save the city from itself.
"Perhaps that's why..." he said, suddenly realizing something."Perhaps that's why you can't control her. Because you love her. Who would have thought that love would be what brought you down."
As he said those last words Tyrion felt a sharp pain in his back, spreading towards his chest. He fell backward. The wine glass in his hand fell to the floor. He was unsure of what had happened. Surprised and shocked about what his body was doing. Confused about the wet and sticky feeling underneath him.
Then he saw him. The king. Standing above him. Yes, standing. The king was fucking standing. Out of his wheelchair. With a bloody dagger in his hand.
That was the last thing Tyrion Lannister ever saw. All the schemes and games had brought him here. Dying on the floor of a balcony in the castle. Killed by the king he had brought to power. Brought down by a revelation of love.
Was it a worthy dead? Perhaps. Is any death really though? In the end, death is just death. Darkness forever.
As he drifted away he saw them all. Everyone he had ever loved. Everyone who had let him down. Everyone who he had let down. Tywin. Cersei. Jaime. Shae. He was one of them now.
Tyrion Lannister closed his eyes. And he was gone.
***
The king put the knife down next to Tyrion's body. He made sure no blood was on his clothes. He pulled the curtain to the balcony so no one would see what laid there. Then he got back in his wheelchair.
"Ser Payne," he called out. "You can take me back to my quarters now."
As the king was transported back to the throne room he couldn't help but smirk a bit. Although he did wish he could walk there himself. But he couldn't reveal what he could do yet. That his powers had healed the injury that had made Bran Stark unable to walk. Because they still had to think he was Bran Stark.
And he wasn't. Not anymore.
He kept telling himself that. But he knew it wasn't quite true. Bran Stark still lived somewhere deep inside of him. And Bran Stark loved Meera Reed.
He chased away those thoughts. Bran Stark didn't matter anymore. And Meera Reed didn't matter. Only the task at hand did.
One down. And one to go.
***
Through his dreams, Devan heard a voice. It sounded like her. Like Brynda. The woman he loved.
The voice got louder and louder until it woke him. And he looked upon a face that looked a lot like hers.
It took Devan a few minutes to realize it wasn't Brynda who stood in front of him, it was her cousin Brienne. And she was shouting at him.
Behind her stood his father with a look of shock and despair on his face.
"Devan Seaworth," she said. "You are under arrest for the murder of the hand of the king, Tyrion Lannister."
Before Devan had time to react his hands were shackled and he was lead out of his room by the king's guard.
Chapter 14: If it comes to it
Summary:
Davos escapes the capital to tell Gendry about what has happened. On their way toward King's Landing they by chance meet up with Robin Arryn and Tyrek Lannister. A plan is made.
Notes:
If you want to know exactly what Robin and Tyrek are doing at the inn that will be detailed in the story that follows their journeys (it will be put up on AO3 eventually).
Chapter Text
Davos didn't waste any time. There was no time to cry about what had happened. No time to ponder what to do. He needed to act before the king came for him too.
So without grabbing a single thing he left his quarters. He walked away from it all. He walked towards the catacombs.
He was sure that the king had already told the guards by the gates to the city to keep an eye out for him. To keep him from leaving. To perhaps arrest him as well.
But luckily Davos knew another way out. The smuggler route. The route he had once used to smuggle Gendry Baratheon out of the city. Now he would use it to get to Gendry before the king did. He needed to warn Gendry. And he needed to tell him what to do, and what not to do.
Devan had told his father about the plan he and Tyrion had made. The plan that involved putting Gendry on the throne. And that plan might still work. Davos could still execute it. If he got to Gendry first.
Once he had saved that boy from his own uncle. And now he was about to start a rebellion to put that boy on the throne.
Saving that boy was one of the best things he had ever done. He had saved him because it was fair. Because it was right. Because it was kind.
Now that fair, right, and kind action might change the course of the kingdom.
The winding stairs spiraled down below him. He ran fast. Hoping that no one followed. Some of the tunnels had fallen when the Dragon Queen attacked the city but Davos had ensured that the route out was still open a while back. Once the king started to act oddly an escape route had felt like a necessary precaution.
He climbed over rubble. He got covered in dust. He kept going. He got out.
***
It was early morning in the Neck. Birds were singing and frogs were croaking. Gendry could hear them from his bed. He woke early, as he still did every morning. But he didn't get up. Instead, he stayed there, listening to the sounds of the swamp, admiring his sleeping wife, pondering what the new day would bring.
But this morning he heard a knock on the door.
"Gendry," Howland Reed said on the other side. "Davos Seaworth is here to see you."
Gendry jumped out of bed, waking Meera in the process, and started looking for his clothes. He and his wife had engaged in intimate activities the night before and he couldn't really remember at which point his clothes had been removed and where they had ended up.
"Where are you going?" his sleepy wife asked.
"Davos is here to see me," he replied. "I need to talk to him right away. Something must have happened.."
At once Meera appeared fully awake. Startled by this news.
"You think something happened to Devan?" she asked.
"Maybe... hopefully not," he replied.
"I'll come with you. I need to know what is going on too."
Gendry nodded and continued looking around the room for his clothes. "Do you know where my pants are?" he asked his wife.
"They're on top of that chandelier over there," Meera replied and smiled as she remembered how they had ended up there.
***
Hand in hand they walked into the Great Hall a little while later. Davos was sitting at the head table next to Howland. He looked serious and tired. Like he had been riding all night.
As Gendry walked in he looked up, looking relieved to see him. There was also surprise in his eyes like he didn't quite recognize the man standing in front of him. Gendry had come to recognize that look. The look of the ones who knew him before.
Davos immediately got up and gave Gendry a warm embrace. "Lord Baratheon," he said. "I'm glad to see you."
"It's Gendry," Gendry replied. "You know that."
"You don't look like it anymore. You look like Lord Baratheon."
He turned to Meera and embraced her as well. "Lady Baratheon," he said. "I never congratulated either of you on the wedding. But I'm very happy you found each other."
"So am I," Meera said with a smile.
They all sat down together at the head table. Meera and Gendry on one side and Davos and Howland on the other.
"Where is Dev?" Gendry asked as soon as they sat down.
Davos sighed and looked down at the table for a moment. "Devan's... imprisoned in the capital," he said. "The king got him."
Gendry put his head in his hands for a moment, pondering this news. Soon he felt his wife's hand in his. He looked up again, meeting Davos' eyes. He saw pain and exhaustion.
Gendry loved Devan as a brother but of course, this pained his father even more. The father who had already lost one son.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Devan talked to Tyrion," Davos replied. "And the next morning... Tyrion was dead."
Gendry heard Meera gasp next to him. "Tyrion is dead?" she asked, her grip on his hand tightening.
Davos nodded and sighed again. "It appears so," he said. "The next morning the king's guard came to my quarters and took Devan away. They said he murdered Tyrion on your orders."
Now it was Gendry's turn to gasp. "My orders?" he said. "Why would I want to kill Tyrion? What is the king telling people?"
"I don't know," Davos replied. "I left the capital as soon as they took Devan away. I was afraid they would take me too, and I needed to get here fast. "
"Why?" Gendry asked.
"Because I knew the king would send for you. Devan is his bait to get to you. And I'm here to tell you not to take the bait."
"Why would he try to get to me? I'm not a threat to him."
"But you are. You're the biggest threat to him. You and your wife."
"How?" Gendry asked.
As Davos looked at him with a weird expression on his face.
"Devan and Tyrion had a plan," he said. "First they needed to ensure the support of Lord Arryn, Lord Lannister, and the two Lord Redwyne. Oh, and Lord Tully too I suppose."
"And then?" Gendry asked.
"Then they would take the throne from the king. And put someone else on it."
"Who?"
Davos chuckled slightly. "You haven't realized it yet?" he asked. "The only man in the kingdom with a claim to the throne. Because his father was the king."
For the first time in his life, a thought entered Gendry's head. A ridiculous thought. But he knew now what Davos meant.
Gendry felt a squeeze of his hand. He looked over at Meera and shook his head.
It couldn't be. It couldn't be him.
She nodded at him. It could be. It could be him.
"I can't," he said.
"Yes, you can," she replied. Her hand moved over to his neck and she pulled him in and gave him a quick kiss. Howland and Davos were probably rolling their eyes at them at this point.
He nodded at her as their lips parted. It could be. It could be him.
Gendry looked over at Davos again. "Me," he said. "It's me."
"It's you," Davos said with a nod. "The kingdom will need you."
"I'm not ready. I'm just a bastard blacksmith."
"But you will be ready. One day. When it comes to it you will be. Because I know you. You will do what you need to do because you are a good man."
"I doubt I'll ever feel ready."
He wouldn't. But Gendry would still do what he needed to do. One day. When it came to it.
"We will still need you," Davos said. "And that's why you can't do what he wants you to do. If I'm right you will soon receive a raven from him, asking you to parlay. He will ask you to give yourself up, in exchange for Devan."
"I would do that," Gendry said. "You know I would."
"I know you would. But I can't let you save him. Not like that. The king would execute you. I'm sure of it."
"And what about Dev? He's your son. He's my best friend, my brother really."
There was a hint of tears in Davos' eyes as he replied. It must be so hard for him to say this. Howland reach out and patted his shoulder slightly. He knew what it was like to lose a son. To not be able to save him.
"He is... but we might have to leave him. Unless we can find another way," he said. "Because he is not as valuable as you for this kingdom. You're our only hope. And we can't give up hope. Not for anything. Not even for Devan."
A raven from the king did arrive shortly thereafter, just like Davos had suspected. It told Lord and Lady Baratheon to come to the capital to parlay.
So Gendry and Meera left the Neck, accompanied by Davos. They left behind about a thousand men to defend her father's lands, together with Ser Swann.
They were going to parlay. But they were not going to give up anything to the king.
***
They traveled towards the capital as fast as they could. Not even stopping for the night. But as morning approached they reached the Cross Roads Inn. And they decided to stop for a few hours to rest and eat. The horses and men needed it.
So once again Gendry and Meera stood outside that tavern hand in hand. And they saw a man, or boy really, sitting on the steps. Blond mop of curly hair, clothes of a nobleman, crutches by his side. It couldn't be anyone else than Tyrek Lannister.
As they got closer Tyrek looked up and Gendry met those sparkling emerald green eyes. Eyes that used to be filled with confidence and swagger. It was now replaced by pain. But also determination. Tyrek Lannister might be broken, but he wasn't defeated.
Gendry paused for a moment when he saw Tyrek, worried that he would accuse him of Tyrion's death. Meera squeezed his hand lightly to prod him to move forward. It was too late to avoid facing Tyrek anyway.
"Lord Baratheon," Tyrek said. "What are you doing here?."
"Lord Lannister," Gendry replied. "I could ask you the same thing."
"They say you were behind the murder of my cousin Tyrion."
"I had nothing to do with that."
"I know."
Tyrek stretched out his hand towards Gendry who took it. They exchanged a handshake. A blacksmith's hand touching the neat hand of a born noble. Just like when they parlayed at Storm's End. Although Tyrek's hand was a bit rougher and more callused these days from the prolonged use of crutches.
"I apologize for not getting up to shake your hand," Tyrek said. "It's a bit hard for me to stand these days."
"You are forgiven, my friend," Gendry replied. "I'm sorry about what happened to you at Highgarden."
"I shouldn't have been there," Tyrek replied and shrugged. "I know better now."
Gendry stepped up on the stair next to Tyrek and put his hand on the other lord's shoulder.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
Tyrek nodded. "Not here though," he said. "My wife is upstairs together with Lord Arryn and his wife. We're also traveling with my cousin Janei. Let me tell them you're here and we can talk in our room."
Tyrek reached for his crutches and got up, struggling a bit with getting up the few stairs to the tavern. Gendry couldn't help feeling sorry for him and he could see his wife looking at Tyrek with sympathy as well. Everything must be so hard for him these days.
"At least you and Robin aren't crawling around on the floor this time," Meera said to Tyrek as he made it up the steps.
Meera had told Gendry about the time Lord Lannister and Lord Arryn engaged in a wrestling game on the floor of this very tavern. He had also got the incident retold to him by Hot Pie later, apparently, it was one of his favorite stories to tell patrons at the establishment.
"It wouldn't be much of a fight these days," Tyrek replied, looking down towards his injured leg
"You don't really need your legs to wrestle," Meera countered and nudged his shoulder slightly. "I'm sure you could still take him."
Memories of a happier, more innocent time. A few months ago only but so much had happened since. Death. Love. Life.
They all gathered in one of the rooms upstairs.
Robin and Desmera sat as far from each other as they could on one of the beds.
Janei sat a bit away in a corner, still not quite comfortable being part of these schemes and games.
Tyrek and Talla sat on the other bed, her leaning against his shoulder as she didn't feel well. From Tyrek's concerned words towards her Gendry could discern that she was with child.
Right after one Lannister had left this world, another one would enter it appeared.
Essie sat, or well squirmed, in Tyrek's lap. She was not interested in adult discussions. Eventually, she was persuaded to sit still after Meera gave her a small carved crocodile, that she just happened to keep in her pocket. Before they had left the Neck Meera had made sure to bring some things with her from her childhood room and the crocodile was such an item.
Tyrek told Gendry and Meera about their plan to marry his cousin Janei to Hobber Redwyne to ensure the support of the Redwyne fleet. And in return, they told him about their plan to go to the capital and parlay with the king.
In the end, there was just one thing left to tell.
"Eventually we will have to take him down," Gendry said.
Tyrek and Robin both nodded, of course, they wanted to take the king down too. "If we take him down, who will then rule?" Robin asked. "If we rebel we need to know who to place on the throne instead."
Gendry looked down briefly and then looked up again. His eyes met first Robin's and then Tyrek's. He trusted them to know this. His hand looked for his wife's, he needed to hold on to her to say what he was about to say.
"I would," he said with a sigh, already burdened by the responsibility of this statement. "If you support my claim I would. Just like my father did. I don't want the power. I'm not ready to rule. But if it comes to it I would do it anyway."
"And if it comes to it, we will support you," Tyrek said.
Robin nodded in agreeance. "My father stood by your father when he rebelled," he said. "And I will stand by you as well if it comes to it."
One day it would come to it. When they all had fought more battles. When they all were fathers themselves. When they couldn't let the king take anything more from them.
It could have been an epic moment. But it was interrupted by Essie lobbing her toy crocodile at Robin's head, almost hitting his eye. Gendry and Meera looked at the little girl in surprise, her throwing skills were surprisingly accurate. Meera had not intended for that toy to be used as a weapon.
"Why did you do that, Es?" Tyrek asked the little girl. Essie didn't answer as she was busy wailing about the loss of her toy.
So soon the meeting instead turned into several of the adults crawling around on the floor looking for Essie's lost crocodile while Tyrek rocked the crying little girl in his arms. It was actually quite fitting. Because soon all of them would be torn between their responsibilities as parents and their responsibilities towards the kingdom.
Chapter 15: Some die young
Summary:
Gendry meets with Bran in the capital to negotiate for Devan. Things go awry.
Chapter Text
Every time Devan woke up there was a brief merciful moment before he remembered where he was. Until he tried to move his arms and realized they were shackled to the wall above him. Sleep was his only escape, but it was hard to get by since he was so uncomfortable. His whole body hurt from being stuck in the same position for so long. His shoulder felt like they were constantly on the verge of dislocating. His wrists were raw from the shackles digging into them. His legs ached from not being able to be stretched out properly in the small cell. His stomach growled for food constantly. His mind was going crazy.
It must have been about a week now since he was arrested. Devan wasn't sure since his only way of telling time was the guards' shift changes. Right after they shifted they let him out of the shackles briefly and gave him some food. Usually moldy bread and watery porridge. During the first shift change, there was sunlight peering in through the door, and during the second one, there wasn't. So Devan had drawn the conclusion that they shifted twice a day, which made it possible for him to get some semblance of time passing.
Sometimes he had hope. Maybe it would all be alright. Maybe his father and Lord Baratheon would find a way to get him out of this mess. Maybe he would still be able to go home to Storm's End and marry Brynda.
Most of the time he didn't have hope. There was no way out of this. He was accused of killing the hand of the king. And the punishment for that would be death. That he was innocent didn't matter since the king was obviously set on pinning him for the crime.
The guard door upstairs opened. It shouldn't be time yet. Or maybe Devan's riddled mind had lost track of time altogether.
A key was put into the lock of his cell. Devan looked up, his neck hurting from the movement.
There she stood. The knight who looked so much like Brynda. Ser Brienne. Accompanied by Ser Podrick.
Something must be about to happen. Usually, it was just the regular guards who came to his cell.
"The king has told us to fetch you," Brienne said. It didn't look like she wanted any part of this.
"Is it time for me to die?" Devan asked, trying to put on a brave face.
"I can't tell you," she replied.
"If it is... can you tell her I love her? Your cousin, Brynda."
Devan felt the tears well up as he spoke, even though he tried to hold them back.
Brienne just nodded. It seemed like she wasn't sure if she could talk to him, perhaps the king would hear. Instead, she put out her hand and touched his hair, which was now a tangled and matted mess, lightly. The touch felt a lot like Brynda's.
"And tell her I didn't do it," he continued. "Even if the whole kingdom says I did, I want her to know I didn't."
Brienne just nodded again and reached up to detach the shackles from the wall. As his arms came down Devan breathed a sigh of relief. The shackles were still on but at least the pain in his shoulders was alleviated.
Podrick suddenly spoke. "I know you didn't do it," he said. "I saw you leave that room. But it doesn't matter. We can't do anything."
Devan sighed. "It matters to me," he said. "And you're not the one in shackles. You can still do something."
Podrick looked at Devan for a long while but didn't say anything. But there was a determined look in his eyes. Like he had just decided something.
Devan was pulled up on his feet by Lady Brienne. His legs and hips hurt so bad. As he tried to walk he stumbled repeatedly and the two knights had to stop and wait while he stretched so he could walk properly.
"Let's go," Brienne said. "The king is waiting for you."
***
Gendry and Meera stood right by the edge of the field in front of the capital. Behind them was a blossoming hill shaded by ancient oak trees. This was where the Baratheon armies had set up camp. They could see the city from here, but they were also at a safe distance. If the king would try to attack them they should have time to retreat. His men weren't enough to take down the king but hopefully, they were enough to protect them.
Davos stood beside them, looking forlorn into the distance. Perhaps preparing to bury another son. Perhaps trying to figure out how to tell his wife about what happened to Devan. Perhaps trying to figure out a way to save Devan and have to do any of that.
Meera took Gendry's hand and stroked it lightly.
"I'll stay here," she said. "I don't want to talk to the King. I never want to see or talk to him again."
Gendry nodded, feeling relieved. He wanted his wife as far away from the king as possible. But he knew he could have never have told Meera to stand back.
"I can handle him," he said. "I'll have Davos with me."
She pulled her husband towards her slightly, so that they faced each other. "Be careful," she said. "Don't do anything rash. Don't let him rile you up."
"I will," he said, despite feeling the blood boiling inside him at the mere thought of the king. He would be calm. For her.
Gendry put his free hand on his wife's back and pulled her in for a kiss. Their bodies met in a passionate embrace that made his blood boil even more, but for other reasons. He lingered in that kiss for a while, not wanting to let go. But eventually, he had to.
Gendry let go of Meera's hand, leaned in for another brief kiss, and then walked out on the field in front of them. This was where the parlay would be held. Davos followed suit behind him.
As he walked the ridiculousness of it all hit him. It still did sometimes. He, a bastard blacksmith from the gutters of the capital, was about to conduct an important parlay with the king. Dressed up in fancy nobleman clothing. Backed up by his armies. Fueled by his love towards the woman behind him.
It was ridiculous. But there was no time to dwell on that. Everything he did these days was. He just had to do it.
***
The field was flat and empty. Worn down by battles fought for the city. Many men had died there.
And today another young man would draw his last breath on that field.
Gendry and Davos stopped in the middle of the field. They waited for the king to appear. Neither Gendry nor Davos spoke. They just stood there, looking down at the ground, waiting.
A few moments later the gate to the city opened and there he was. The king. Bran Stark. Or whoever he really was.
"Lord Baratheon. Lord Seaworth," the king said as he was rolled out on the field by Ser Podrick.
"Your majesty," Gendry replied, figuring he could at least start off the conversation politely. But he had a feeling it would not end in the same way.
"Two traitors to the crown," the king continued. "You know I could have you both arrested right here."
Yeah, this would not be a polite conversation. That much was clear.
"I have done nothing ill towards you," Gendry said. "And if you try to arrest me my armies will protect us."
The Baratheon armies were close behind and around them. If it came to it they should be able to hold the king's men off for long enough for him and Davos to make it to safety.
The king didn't reply. He just stared into nothing, as he tended to do. It was infuriating.
"Where is she?" the king suddenly asked. "Where's Meera? I called for both of you."
"My wife doesn't want to talk to you," Gendry replied.
"Your wife... you're nothing but a bastard," the king scoffed. "You don't deserve to be her husband. You shouldn't be."
"Yet I am. Meera loves me. Not you."
He knew she did. And the knowledge of that made him smile. Meera loved him.
"Love is nothing but weakness," the king said."It doesn't matter."
Then he looked into the distance again, as if he tried to avoid the truth. Which was that that love did matter. It mattered more than anything. And love wasn't weakness, it was strength.
"Bring out the boy," the king said to Ser Payne behind him.
Ser Payne turned around and walked back towards the gate. When he came back he was followed by Bronn and Brienne who was leading a shackled prisoner.
Devan Seaworth.
It had only been a few weeks since Gendry last saw his friend but he could hardly recognize him. Not just because Devan was dirtier and skinner than before. Or because his hair, which usually stood up in all directions, now laid matted against his head. But because of his eyes. Devan's eyes were always so full of life and joy. Now there was only emptiness. Emptiness and fear.
Bronn took a stance next to the king with Devan in front of him, his sword against the poor boy's neck. Brienne stood on the other side of the king, her eyes never meeting Gendry's or Davos'. It seemed like she was ashamed of standing there. Podrick once again took his place behind the king.
"I'll give you to the boy," the king said. "I'll give him to you alive with no further repercussions. No trial for his crimes. I will do that if you give yourself up in his steed, Lord Baratheon. After all, you were the one behind his crime."
Gendry looked over at Devan. Hoping he would understand why he had to do what he was about to do. But the desperation in Devan's eyes made the words hard to say.
He looked down at the ground for a moment and then over at Davos who nodded at him. They both knew what Gendry had to say.
"No," he said. "I won't give myself up."
There was no reaction in the king's eyes as he heard the answer. Just darkness. "Well then," he said. "Execute the boy, Ser Bronn."
It all happened so fast. There was no time to act, not even time to scream. Bronn raised his sword. Devan fell to his knees. Gendry averted his eyes, he couldn't watch.
But as he did he heard unexpected sounds.
Patter of feet.
Clinking of swords.
Gendry looked back to see Podrick stand right by Devan, holding his sword against Bronn's. Preventing him from beheading Devan. In the commotion, Devan had thrown himself on the ground to avoid getting hit by a blow from a sword..
"At least give the boy a fair trial," Podrick yelled, as he used all his strength to hold off Bronn's sword. "As a king's guard, I've sworn to protect justice. And this is not justice."
The king turned around and looked in surprise at his king guard knight. "A trial wouldn't matter," he said. "The boy would be found guilty. He can die now. Or he can die later. It doesn't matter."
"But he's not guilty," Podrick said, voice strained from the effort to hold off Bronn. "Because I saw him leave that room. And Tyrion Lannister was still alive at that point. That's why I can't let this happen. If you hold a trial I would testify to that."
The king nodded at Bronn as if to give him permission to fight Podrick. Knowing what an excellent swordsman Bronn was this would not be a fair fight.
Bronn simply lifted one of his feet and used it to kick Podrick away from him. The force made Podrick tumble to the ground and Bronn was soon above him. Sword to his neck.
"You really gonna die for this?" Bronn asked. "For that boy."
"I'll die for what is right," Podrick said. And those were his last words before Bronn's sword penetrated his neck. A cascade of blood splattered on the dirt and then it was over. So quickly. A life extinguished.
Some die quickly. Some die bravely. Some die young.
But he hadn't died in vain. Because it had bought them some time.
As Bronn walked back towards Devan, who was still laying on the ground, Gendry suddenly knew what to say. After all, death was so meaningless, even for the king. There had to be something he wanted in exchange for it. And Gendry thought he knew what. He had seen it in the king's eyes when he asked for Meera.
"If you let Devan live," he said. "Then I let you talk to her. To Meera. I know you care about her still. And if you kill him you'll never speak to her again."
The king looked over at Gendry, with what might be interpreted as surprise in his eyes. "I don't care about anyone," he said.
"I know you want us to think that. But I know you do. You care about her. Just like I do. And I will bring her here to speak to you if you let Devan go."
"Devan Seaworth killed the hand of the king. I can't let him go. He needs to be punished."
Now it was Davos' turn to speak up. "Then punish him," he said. "But let my son live. Punish him the same way you did your brother. Send him to the wall. Banish him from the kingdom. Strip him of his titles."
Gendry looked over at Devan, who was now once again held by Ser Bronn. There was something in his eyes now besides emptiness. A glimmer of hope.
"If I let the boy live and banish him instead," the king said. "Will you let me speak to Meera then? Alone."
It seemed like Gendry had struck the right note. This was what the king wanted. Even if he didn't want to admit it.
Davos looked at Gendry, it was his call whether he thought this was fair or not. Gendry nodded. "You'll get to talk to my wife," he said. "If she agrees. But know that she will tell me anything you tell her. And if you hurt her in any way... I might not have the manpower to take you down but damn it I will do it anyway. I will ram this hammer in your head myself."
His hand rested on the hilt of the war hammer attached to his belt. He didn't lift it as he feared the king's men would see this as a provocation. But he really wished he could just go up there and bash the king's head in.
The king nodded. "That's a deal then," he said. "Go fetch Meera for me."
Bronn's sword was still held against Devan's throat. He could still die at any moment. They could still be tricked.
But Davos wouldn't let that happen.
"I was here when you parlayed with Lord Arryn though," Davos said. "I won't make the same mistake as him. Because how do I know Ser Bronn won't execute my son just like he did with Lord Redwyne?"
"You won't."
"But I need reassurance," Davos said. "Otherwise you won't get to talk to Lady Baratheon. So I propose that Ser Brienne guards Devan until he is put on a ship up North. I trust her, and I trust that she wouldn't hurt him. Because if she did her cousin Brynda would never speak to her again."
The king nodded towards Brienne and she walked up to Devan and Bronn. Bronn reluctantly let go of Devan and Brienne caught his shackles instead. She held Devan more gently than Bronn had done and her sword remained in her sheet.
"She'll take him down to the harbor," the king said. "There should be a ship leaving for the North shortly."
"Can I talk to him before he leaves?" Davos asked.
"You can accompany them down to the harbor while I talk to Lady Reed," the king said.
"Baratheon," Gendry mumbled. "My wife is called Lady Baratheon."
The king ignored his correction and continued to address Davos. "I'll send some of my guards with you too," he said. "To make sure you don't try anything. And Lord Baratheon is now allowed to come."
Gendry realized this meant he might never get a chance to speak to his friend again. Devan would soon be gone. Far away.
As Brienne led Devan in front of them he tried to catch Devan's eyes. He needed Devan to look at him. He needed Devan to know he hadn't abandoned him. But Devan just looked down at the ground.
Brienne seemed to notice this and halted slightly, pretending like she was untangling Devan's chains, as she stood right between Gendry and the king. Making sure that whatever was said was not noticed by the king.
"Dev," Gendry whispered.
Devan looked up, it seemed like he had heard him. His eyes looked wild. Like a caged animal.
"You'll always be my brother," Gendry said.
Devan didn't reply. Perhaps scared to do so after almost getting beheaded. But his eyes met Gendry's and there was a faint notion of a smile. Under that wild exterior Devan was still there. He was a still hapless moronic younger brother.
Then Brienne pushed Devan forward again. Towards his fate up North. Away from everyone he held dear.
Gendry had never had a brother. Not until he met Devan. And now he would perhaps never have one again.
But perhaps is better than definitely.
Chapter 16: We don't have time
Summary:
Meera talks to Bran and he tells her what they should do for him to leave them alone. Afterward, Meera tells her husband about the conversation and about why they can't do what the king wants.
Chapter Text
Bran saw them walking toward him. Hand in hand. Meera and her bastard husband. The king would never admit it, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw her. He felt a pang in his chest, right between the ribs.
He shouldn't feel such human emotions. Those were the emotions of Bran Stark, and Bran Stark was gone. At least he was supposed to be.
Bran Stark had been a weak young boy with dreams of flying. A boy who was in love with Meera Reed. The king was not that boy.
The king was an ancient being who could see everything and everyone. Who could put an end to it all. Finally.
That's how it was supposed to be. But it wasn't quite true. Bran Stark wasn't gone. Not fully.
When the three-eyed raven seeped into the mind of Bran Stark he should have replaced everything that was already there, every thought and feeling of the young boy that used to be. Like black ink pouring over a paper and eventually covering everything on it. But even if you cover a paper what used to read on it is still there. And so was Bran Stark. Whatever he had felt was still imprinted underneath the black inky darkness. It still mattered.
He still loved her. That's why his heart skipped a beat when he saw her and that's why he felt rage when he saw her hand in Gendry's. Jealously. Such a petty human emotion.
If only he could have taken that bastard lord out. Executed him on the spot. Then it would have all been right.
His plan hadn't worked out. Davos had intercepted it. Stopped the bastard lord from being rash and stupid. He was supposed to take the Seaworth boy's place. The king knew he would have if Davos hadn't intervened.
The easiest way to put everything right would of course be to kill her. Mow her down like he had Tyrion Lannister. But he couldn't do that. The king realized that when he looked into her eyes. Eyes that were a mix of green and grey, and full of defiance. Those were the eyes of the girl who had once saved him. Saved Bran Stark.
But perhaps there was still another way. Another way to stop the events Meera had put in motion.
It all was so obvious. There was only one thing that could be so powerful and affect so much. That could change the whole future of the kingdom.
A child.
Meera would have a child with the bastard lord.
The king needed to stop that child from being born.
***
When Meera saw the king she felt nauseous. Anger and pain bubbling up in her stomach. She squeezed her husband's hand tighter as they walked towards him, still sitting in the middle of the field. The king looked at them with contempt.
She didn't want to talk to him. She never wanted to look at him again. But she had to, for Devan's sake. One conversation was a small price to pay for a life.
"Just signal for me if he threatens you in any way, and I'll come for you," Gendry told her as they stopped in front of the wheel-chairbound ruler. "I'll be right behind you with my men."
Meera nodded and reached up to kiss him. Putting on a bit of a show in front of the king who glared at them.
"I'll be fine," she said as her lips parted from Gendry's. Her hand grazed his cheek briefly in an attempt to assure him.
Gendry nodded and gave her one last brief kiss before he walked off to take his place behind his men. The Baratheon armies were still in formation on the field, ready to intervene at any moment.
"Meera," the king said.
"Bran," she replied. "Or whatever I should call you these days."
"Bran is fine," he said.
"But that's not your name, is it?"
"My name doesn't matter."
Always such a joy to talk to.
"So what does matter to you?" she asked.
"The story. That it ends," he replied, like that made any sense. "That's why I need to speak to you. I want to ask you to do something."
"Why would I do what you tell me?"
That he even had the nerve to ask something of her. Like she hadn't done enough. She dragged him home to safety all the way from beyond the wall.
"Because you love that bastard husband of yours," the king replied. "You will do it for him. If you do what I say I will leave both of you alone. I will let you live your lives without interfering."
Meera nodded. She did want this. It was all she wanted. To not have the king be a part of their lives in any way.
"You can have that, Meera," the king said. "You can have your bastard of a husband."
"If I do what?" she asked, nervous about what his answer would be.
"As long as you never have his child," the king replied.
Meera swallowed and looked down at the ground. Of course, that's what he would ask of her. The one thing she couldn't agree to.
"And if I have his child?" she asked.
A flash of anger lit up the king's eyes as if the mere thought of her having Gendry's child enraged him.
"Then I will come for you," he said. "I will come for him. I will come for your child. I will vanquish you all."
She looked down at the ground again. Pondering how to approach the situation.
"Do I have a choice?" she asked.
"You always have a choice. Live or die. Win or lose."
Meera nodded. She knew what her choice was. What her choice would always be.
She walked up closer to the king and looked straight into those dead eyes as she spoke. "I chose love," she said.
There was a glimpse of something in those eyes. If only for a moment. Something familiar. The eyes of the boy she had once known. Then it was gone again.
"It's your choice," the king said, eyes once again dead as fish. "But you know what the consequences of your choices will be now. Whatever you chose."
Meera knew. But the choice was already made.
***
As she walked back towards the Baratheon camps Gendry soon was by her side, taking her hand. He didn't ask anything. He was just there. As a husband should be.
Once they were back behind the lines of his armies they sat down together on a green hill. The Baratheon armies would stay outside the capital until Gendry knew that Devan was safely on that ship. Davos had been allowed to accompany his son down to the harbor to ensure that the king kept his word, and when he returned they would leave.
The hill on which they sat was filled with white fluffy dandelions, a sign that spring was over and moving towards summer. The wind rattled the flowers lightly making the light white seeds dance over the grass. Ensuring that the hill would bloom next spring as well.
They could see the city from that hill. The city that was no longer Gendry's. But one day would be again.
Meera picked up a flower and started to twist the stalk between her fingers. Nervous about what she was about to tell her husband. She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the safety that his presence brought. Feeling his breath against hers made her feel a bit calmer. He kissed her hair lightly.
"What did he say?" Gendry asked.
"That he will let us be;" she said, looking down at the stalk between her fingers. "He will let us live and be together in peace. If we do one thing."
Just one thing. One thing they couldn't do.
"What does he want from us?" Gendry asked.
Meera paused for a moment. Pondering how to put the threat the king had uttered against them.
"He wants us to never have a child," she replied. "If we don't have children he'll leave us alone. But if we do he'll come for us. He'll come for our child."
Gendry looked over at his wife in surprise. Anger starting to flash in his eyes. She knew that look. Her husband wanted to run out on that field and bash the king's head in with his hammer. Meera wanted him to do that too. But she knew she couldn't let him. This was not the time for rash decisions.
"The king can't decide that," Gendry said, appearing to try to contain his anger. "You know I would never force you to have my child. But it's our choice, not his."
"I know that," she replied. "But I want to have your child."
Gendry smiled at her, seemingly excited at the mere thought of it. She knew he wanted a child. She knew he wanted that more than anything.
"Perhaps this can buy us some time though," he said. "We can wait a while to have children. We're still young. Then we can plan how to take him down first."
She shook her head and looked over at him. Looking into those blue eyes that still made her heart skip a beat. And she took his hand in hers.
"We don't have time," she said, squeezing his hand lightly. Her other hand intensely twisting the stem of the dandelion.
He looked confused for a moment before realizing what she was meant.
"You mean..." he started.
"I think so..." she said. "I didn't tell you before because I wasn't sure. But I haven't had my bleeding since before we married. And I talked to Talla when we meet them. She told me how she knew. That she's been feeling nauseous and tired. And I have as well. I figured it was from everything that's happened lately but..."
The words were hard for Meera to say. She hadn't said it out loud before. And she had felt overwhelmed by the realization even before she spoke to the king.
Gendry squeezed her hand. Not stressing her, just being there for her. She took a deep breath.
"I think I'm with child," she finally said.
Immediately she felt her husband's arms around her. Gendry held her close and kissed her cheeks. He couldn't hold back the joy that filled him. He couldn't be anything else than happy.
He'd never had a family. Now he finally would.
But the king could take his family from him.
"We'll have a child..." he said repeatedly, with a hint of disbelief in his voice.
Meera nodded and kissed him back. "We will," she said. "Although I have to ask Marya when we get back to be sure. She's attended plenty of births so she should know."
"The king can't take this from us," Gendry said. "We'll hide it from him. He doesn't have to know."
Meera leaned her head on her husband's shoulder again. "This is our child," she said, clasping his hand tighter. "Yours and mine. Not his. We'll protect it from him."
Gendry kissed the top of her head and looked out over the capital in front of them. Determination and anger in his eyes. "And then we'll take him down," he said. "We'll fight. For our child."
They would fight for their child.
Her name would be Joreen. And one day she would be queen.
"What do we do now?" Meera asked, throwing away the now mashed-up dandelion in her hand.
"We go home," he said and put his arms around her. "To Storm's End. We'll make sure we're prepared to fight when the time comes. And I'll make sure you're taken care of and protected. You need to rest and eat properly."
"I'm not sick or fragile, Gendry," she said with a chuckle. "I'm with child. You don't need to coddle me. I can still take care of myself."
"I guess you've never been very fragile," he said and kissed her cheek. "I might still coddle you a little though."
"I suppose that's fine," she said with a smile and curled up a bit closer in his arms. There no one could hurt her. The king couldn't get to her, or their child, when she was in his arms.
They shared another kiss. Despite all the horror around them, there could still be sweet moments. Moments of love and affection while sitting on a hill filled with dandelions.
There would be more of those moments. But there would also be sad moments. Moments of horror and despair in a room filled with blood.
Chapter 17: Life is long
Summary:
Davos says goodbye to Devan before finally returning home to the rest of his family.
Chapter Text
Among ships, ropes, and seagulls they stood. Davos Seaworth and his son. Saying their last goodbye. The air smelled of the sea, like salt, fish guts, and tar. Around them were the noises of the men of the sea. Hollering, pulling, and running. Men just like Davos.
The sea had been his home. The sea had been his friend. The sea had been his fortune.
But the sea had also taken his son Mathos from him. And now it was about to take Devan away too.
Not to die among the waves, but take him to distant northerly shores. Perhaps never to return.
"You can have a moment alone," Brienne said to Davos and backed off a few feet away. Compassionate and just, as always. She didn't want this, Davos knew that. But she was too honorable and dutiful to walk away.
Devan looked down at the ground still. His whole body shivered. He hadn't said anything the whole time they walked down to the harbor. So unlike the confident and charismatic self, he had been just a week ago. Now terrified and muted.
Davos didn't say anything either. He just put his arms around his son and held him. Rocking him back and forth, just like he had done when Devan was just a baby.
Devan smelt of dirt and sweat. The smell of a man. But underneath it, Davos could still feel the faint smell of the boy Devan used to be. The little boy he had left behind and let down.
From the moment Devan was born he had been... well, Devan. Born with a full head of hair, lungs that could scream for hours, and an insatiable appetite. He had started to walk much earlier than Mathos, before he was even a year old, probably in an attempt to follow his four years older brother on adventures. And followed Mathos he had, to the older boy's chagrin. Devan had followed his brother everywhere. Often getting himself into situations Mathos or Davos had to save him from.
But Davos couldn't save Devan from this.
Perhaps it was in the name. Davos had named his second son after his own older brother. His brother Devan had joined the merchant fleet at a young age. Going off to sea never to return again. Lost forever. Probably resting on the bottom of the ocean somewhere. Davos had himself become a sailor in an attempt to find his brother. But his brother Devan never came home, and perhaps his son Devan wouldn't either.
Sometimes Davos wondered why his wife had let him name all their boys. Mathos after his father. Devan after his brother. Stannis after the man he served. And Steffon as a dedication to the Stormlands, it was a common name in the lands and in the Baratheon family. Perhaps Marya had waited for them to have a girl to name.
Marya had always wished for girls. Because girls don't die in war. Girls don't get sent to the wall. Girls don't leave their parents too soon.
He knew his wife loved their boys. As much as any mother could. But he also knew that she'd been preparing to lose them from the day they were born.
They had already lost one. Now they were about to lose another.
Not to death. But to distance. A distance too far to bridge.
Devan still hadn't said anything. But he cried.
His tears soaked through the fabric of Davos' jacket. Tears of relief for not dying, but also of fear about what would happen to him now.
His hands were desperately clinging to his father. Not wanting to let go.
It wasn't long ago since Davos had to force his son to hug him.
Finally, the boy spoke.
"Tell Brynda I love her," he said "And mother, and Stannis, and Steffon. You'll go to them now, won't you, father?"
"I will," Davos said. "And I will tell them all you love them."
Devan nodded between his sobs. "You need to stay with them," he said. "Steffon... he's still so young. He can still grow up with a father."
"I will stay with them, son," Davos said. "I promise. I won't ever leave again."
This made Devan cry even harder. "I wish...," he said. "I wish I could be there too. That we could all be together."
Davos released his embrace slightly and put his hands on each side of his son's face. He looked into Devan's eyes, they looked so much like Mathos eyes. The son he had lost. But this son was not lost. Davos refused to believe he was. Not forever. Just for a while.
"Son," he said. "This is not the end. Life is long. Remember that. We will all be together one day."
As long as there was life, there was hope. And Devan was still alive.
He put his hand up to Devan's hair and pulled his fingers through it. making it stand up like it usually did. A faint smile reached his son's lips.
"Your hand is not a hairbrush," he said. "That's what you told me."
"Well it's not," Davos replied. "Hopefully they have hairbrushes up north."
Devan looked down again. Seemingly once again struck by the reality of what was happening to him. He was being sent away. Far far away from everything and everyone he had ever loved.
"There's just snow and coldness up there from what I've heard," he said.
"I've been up there," Davos said, trying to reassure his son. "It's not that bad. There are some good men there too. Jon Snow is there. He'll take care of you. Tell him you're my son and he will."
Devan nodded, but the frown on his face told Davos that he wasn't convinced that it wasn't that bad up north.
"I need to take him away now," Brienne said, suddenly standing next to Davos again. He hadn't noticed her walking up as he had been so focused on his son.
Davos leaned over towards his son again and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
"Remember, this is not the end," he said. "One day...".
Devan reached his hand out and took his father's hand. "One day..." he said.
Then he was gone. Pulled away from his father's arms. Sent to lands so far away.
But one day they would all be together again. Devan, Stannis, Steffon. Marya. Davos. And Mathos.
***
Once the ship taking Devan away had set sail Davos returned to the Baratheon camp, accompanied by Brienne. Gendry put his arm around his friend as he walked in.
Meera was beside her husband. Their hands intertwined. Something seemed different about them. Like they were even closer than before. Davos wondered what the king had told them. He would have to ask later.
"Is Devan on that ship?" Gendry asked.
Davos nodded, his head still against Gendry's shoulder.
"Good," Gendry said. "Then he's safe. He's alive. Jon will take care of him."
Davos leaned back from the embrace. "His mother... his brothers," he said. "They don't know. I need to tell them."
Gendry put his hand on Davos' shoulder. "You'll come with me to Storm's End then?" he asked.
"I will," Davos said. "It's time. It's my responsibility to tell them, not yours. I didn't tell them about Mathos myself. But I need to tell them this time. And where else would I go anyway?"
"You know there's always room for you in my castle."
Gendry turned to Brienne, who stood a bit to the side of them as they talked.
"You know you can come with me to the Stormlands too, Ser Brienne," he said. "Your family has taken refuge at my castle."
She shook her head decisively. "I swore an oath," she said. "I swore to protect the innocent and weak."
"The king doesn't care about the innocent and weak," Gendry replied.
"I know. And that's why I need to stay. Podrick died today to protect someone who was innocent. If he hadn't been there Devan would have died. If I stay perhaps I can save someone as well. There needs to be someone in that castle upholding justice and truth."
Neither Gendry and Davos could refute that. "If you ever change your mind," Gendry said. "You're always welcome at Storm's End. We fought side by side once, we can do it again."
Brienne gave him a nod and a hint of a smile before she turned around and walked back towards the capital. To uphold justice and truth. The last defender of those values.
Gendry couldn't stop her. And in the end, he would be glad he didn't. Because on the last day, when everything fell, Brienne would come to protect the innocent and weak. She would save his children.
***
Two days later Davos stood in the courtyard at Storm's End. He had been there before. When he served under Stannis Baratheon.
Everything was so different now. The castle looked the same but the circumstances had changed.
He looked around for his family. He wasn't even sure he would recognize them after this long. If they would recognize him.
Then he saw her. Marya. She looked the same. And he felt the same.
Dammit, he loved that woman.
Beside her stood their two boys. So much bigger now than when he left. Steffon had barely been more than a toddler then. And Stannis had been about the age Steffon was now. Just a child then, now almost a man.
There was also a young woman. Tall with blonde hair. Davos assumed that was Brynda.
He walked up towards them. Surprise and confusion were on his wife's face as she recognized him. A hint of a smile.
"Husband," Marya said. "I knew you would be back eventually."
"Dear wife," Davos replied. "I've missed you."
Her eyes darted around the courtyard again. He knew who she was looking for.
"Where is Devan?" she asked with concern on her face.
Davos took a deep breath. And then he told her. He told them all.
Afterward, he looked down at the ground. Worried about his wife's reaction. Would she cry? Would she berate him?
Marya did neither of those things. Instead, she put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
"Devan's still alive," she said. "Because you saved him."
"He is," Davos said. "And we can get still get him back. One day."
He heard sobs next to him and looked up slightly. The young woman with the blonde hair had sunk down on the ground. Stannis stood above her and held her and patted her hair. That boy had always been thoughtful, more concerned about others than himself.
Marya let go of Davos and bent down on the ground as well. Trying to console the young woman.
"It'll be alright, sweetheart," he heard his wife say. "Devan's not dead."
"You're Brynda, right?" Davos said, crouching down beside the girl.
She nodded through the sobs.
"Devan told me... before they put him on that ship he told me to tell you... that he loves you."
"Thank you," she said, the sobs now growing even louder. "I... I love him too. But I never told him that."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to easer her sorrow somehow.
Then Davos felt a pair of arms around his neck. The small arms of a child. His own child.
Davos almost lost his balance as Steffon threw himself on his father. He had to sit down on the ground not to fall backward. Steffon quickly curled up in his lap.
"Father," the boy said. "You're finally back."
"I am," Davos said. "Do you even remember me?"
The boy nodded slightly. "I remember you used to hold me," he said. "When I was little."
"You're still little, aren't you?"
Steffon looked perturbed. "I'm almost ten," he said.
"Of course," Davos said and ruffled the boy's hair lightly. "But you're still my little boy."
"I guess I can be that," Steffon said and leaned his head on Davos's chest.
The boy was perhaps a bit too heavy to have in his lap, but Davos didn't complain. He had missed so much of his sons' childhoods that he reveled every moment he could still savor.
And for the first time in years, Davos cried. He cried for Mathos. He cried for Devan. He cried for Shireen. He cried for everything that had been lost to war and games.
He nuzzled his nose into Steffon's hair as the tears flowed. Just like he did with Devan when they said goodbye. His hair was dark blond and messy, just like Devan's. But Steffon didn't smell like a man, he smelled like a boy. Like playing in high grass and climbing trees.
Mathos was dead. Devan was gone. And Stannis appeared to be almost grown. But Steffon was still there. He was still a child.
It wasn't over. He could still be a father to Steffon.
And he could still get Devan back.
Chapter 18: No time to sleep
Summary:
Gendry is back at Storm's End, ponders everything that has happened, and can't sleep.
Chapter Text
The moonlight shone in through the high windows in the Great Hall of Storm's End. It flicked over the books, letters, and maps spread over the head table. Gendry was deeply entrenched in them, trying to learn everything he needed to know to protect his wife and child.
Everyone else was asleep. But not the lord of the castle. There was no time to sleep for him.
Since they got home to Storm's End a few days earlier he had barely slept. He was overwhelmed, overjoyed, and overworked. So full of emotions that he was about to burst. Happiness and pride about the child he and his wife were expecting. Fear and dread about what could happen to them. Sorrow and guilt about what had happened to Devan.
Everything felt dull and hopeless without Devan.
Gendry needed to do something with all these emotions. He needed to spring into action. He needed to protect his family.
A lot had been arranged already. Scouts had been placed at the border to the Stormlands, in an attempt to know as early as possible if an army was approaching. An inventory of all the ships sailing in the lands had been made, trying to scrounge up a small fleet if necessary. They had the few ships sailing under the Seaworth banner still, and Lord Selwyn of Tarth had a few ships to offer now that his island was safe from the Dornish attacks. Together with some additional ships from his bannerman he had perhaps a hundred ships available to defend his lands. It wasn't much, but it was something. Ravens had also been sent to all his bannerman, to try to ensure their support if necessary.
But it still didn't feel like he'd done enough.
So despite the fact that he was barely able to read a map and that the language in the books on military strategy was way above his reading level Gendry dedicated himself to them. Over and over he read the same sentences, trying to understand. Because perhaps it was the key to how he could protect his family.
Around him, the hall was quiet, dark, and empty. A slight draft leaked in through the windows, cooling the whole hall down. The candle in front of him, which was the only available light, flickered slightly. It had almost burnt out by now, although Gendry hadn't noticed.
His head hurt from focusing hard all day. His eyes were heavy and tired. His feet and hands were starting to go numb from the cold. But he couldn't stop.
The door creaked and he looked up. A shadow at the end of the hall.
"Davos," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," Davos replied. "It's way past midnight. You need to get some sleep. In your bed, next to your wife. Not by against this table like I found you this morning."
"My wife is already asleep."
"I'm sure Meera wants you there when she wakes up."
"I want to be there too. I want nothing rather. But I don't have time to sleep. I need to... figure everything out. I need to protect her."
Davos walked around the table and sat down next to Gendry. He put his hand on Gendry's shoulder. As Gendry looked over at him he took the book in front of him and closed it.
"You need to sleep too," he said. "Otherwise you won't be good for anything."
"I'm not good for anything regardless," Gendry replied. "There's so much to do, and I know so little. No one prepared me for any of this. I know how to forge a sword, but I can barely read a map."
"You are a good man. That's plenty. The rest you can get help with. You don't need to do this alone. You don't need to know everything."
Gendry nodded and rested his head in his hands for a moment. His head was heavy and tired. "It's all just too much," he said. "It was just a little more than a year ago that you found me in the capital. I was no one. I had nothing. And now? I'm a lord. A husband. And... I'm soon to become a father."
They hadn't told anyone this yet as they feared the news would reach the king if too many people knew. But Gendry knew he could trust Davos. And his wife Marya already knew anyway since Meera had consulted with her earlier that day to confirm the pregnancy.
Gendry felt Davos' hand on the back of his head, giving him a slight shake. "Congratulations, son," he said with a smile."I figured it probably would happen quite soon. But already... You'll be a great father. You must be so happy."
Gendry smiled back at Davos. "I am," he said. "Of course I am. Happier than I've ever been about anything. But I'm also worried about the king. Because he told Meera that if we ever have a child he'll come for us. For us all. Me, Meera, and our child. So I need to do what I can to protect them."
Davos patted Gendry's back lightly. "But you also need to take care of yourself for them. You need to let people help you. I know about military strategy and politics. Lord Penrose knows these lands better than anyone. We can support you. And I've heard Stannis has read every book in your library, I'm sure he can explain them to you. Somehow that kid is smarter than me."
Gendry exhaled and nodded. "I'm glad to have you here," he said. "Because you know so much more than me. I just wish Devan was here too."
"I do too. But he can take care of himself. And he'll be back one day. I have to believe that."
Gendry smiled slightly. "From what I know of Devan I'm not really sure he is capable of taking care of himself," he said. "But I do believe in him too. He'll survive and he'll be back one day."
"He can take care of himself if he needs to. And he will need to now."
"He was... the best friend I've ever had. He was a brother to me. And it's my fault he's not here."
"It's not your fault. It was no ones' fault but the king's. Don't blame yourself. And he's still alive, we can still bring him back when all this is over."
They didn't say the words out loud but they both thought it. When Gendry was the king they could bring Devan back. They hadn't given up on that plan. But they needed to secure the Stormlands first, and then ensure the support from the other lords.
And truth be told, even thinking about that plan made Gendry's head spin. He had too much to think of already. He couldn't think about such ridiculous things.
A yawn found his way to Gendry's lips, making it clear how tired he was. "Perhaps some sleep would be a good idea," he said.
"It definitely would be," Davos replied. "Let me clean up here for you, and you can go directly to bed."
"Thank you," Gendry said and finally got up from the table, having to support himself slightly on it as his feet buckled under him. He definitely had sat there for too long.
***
The bedroom was pitch black, except for a sliver of moonlight that shone in through the window and illuminated the bed where his wife slept. Her curly hair was spread out around her head and one hand was cupped over her belly. Instinctively protecting the new life growing there, even though it wasn't visible yet. She tossed a bit but appeared fast asleep.
Gendry tried to navigate the room quietly since he didn't want to wake his wife. Of course, he managed to stub his toe on the dresser and cursed quietly as the pain hit him. He looked over at Meera to ensure that he hadn't woken her up.
When he finally made it to the bed he sat down at the side of it to undress. Once his clothes were off he carefully folded the sheet back to crawl in next to her. Meera groaned slightly beside him as he did.
He laid down on his back and tried to relax. To his surprise, he soon felt his wife's hand in his. It appeared she wasn't asleep after all.
"You should be asleep," she said.
"So should you," he replied.
"I waited for you."
"Sorry," he said. "There's just a lot to do. I need to keep you and the child safe. I need to be everything you need."
He felt her hair on his shoulder as she leaned towards him and placed a light kiss on his collar bone. Her warm body next to his made him feel calmer. His breathing adjusted to hers and his heartbeat started to slow down to in tune with hers.
"You're already everything that I need," she said. "And I know you will keep us safe."
He placed a kiss at the top of her hair. Somehow it still smelt like the swamp, despite it being many days since they left the Neck. Like water lilies, hanging moss, and cypress trees. The best smell in the world. The smell of the woman he loved.
She leaned in towards him further and searched for his lips with hers. Soon she found them. He leaned into the kiss as well. Soft kisses from his still quite sleepy wife. His lips started to tingle slightly and the tingling soon spread through his body. Making him forget most of his current concerns.
Her hand moved over his chest and abdomen. It stopped right below his belly button but teased to go lower.
"Are you sure we should?" he asked. "With the child I mean."
"I asked Marya about it and she said it's fine," she replied. "You won't hurt the baby."
Gendry put his hand at the small of Meera's back and pulled her in. Their bodies and minds uniting into one. Everything felt lighter and nothing felt impossible.
He could do this. He could protect them. Because he had to.
Chapter 19: For my brother
Summary:
The Seaworth brothers grapple with life during the sudden new circumstances.
Steffon bonds with Meera. Stannis consoles Brynda. And Devan meets a certain familiar commander of the Nightwatch.
Chapter Text
Steffon sat perched in one of the oak trees in the courtyard of Storm's End. In his hand, he held his bow and arrow. He clasped them hard to his chest so they wouldn't disappear like his brother who had given them to him. They had been Dev's when he was Steffon's age and when he outgrew them he gave them to his youngest brother.
Below him was hustle and bustle of everyday life in the castle. Blacksmiths worked on weapons, butchers prepared meat, soldiers practiced fighting. And around it, all brown chickens and spotted pigs roamed freely.
Watching the daily life in the castle was Steffon's main source of entertainment these days. There were no other children his age at the castle to play with and none of his other playmates were available either.
Dev often used to play with Steffon, because despite being nine years older Dev was still very amused with childish games.
Sometimes, Stannis played with him as well, but he was currently employed by Lord Baratheon to help him read the books necessary to come up with a plan to defend the castle if necessary. Not even Stannis' friend Bastian was available to play with since he had been stationed to guard the gate of the castle as part of the efforts to strengthen its defenses.
So there was no one for Steffon to play with and nothing for him to do.
"Can I join you?" a voice suddenly asked below him.
He looked down and saw Lady Baratheon standing at the foot of the tree.
Steffon nodded but wondered to himself how she would get there. Ladies didn't usually climb trees. Although this lady didn't look like most ladies in her pants and tunic.
"If you can get up here, Lady Baratheon," he replied.
It turned out she could. She grabbed a branch with her arms and then heaved her legs up around it to pull herself up. It took her only an instant.
"Of course I can," Meera said as she sat down next to Steffon. "I've climbed plenty of trees. And don't call me Lady Baratheon. Call me Meera."
"Meera..." he said a bit hesitantly since calling a lady by her first name didn't seem proper. It seemed like something his mother might discipline him for.
"Do you miss your brother?" she asked and put her hand on Steffon's shoulder.
He nodded slowly while twisting his hand around the handle of the bow. "Dev was supposed to teach me how to shoot," he said.
"You want me to teach you?"
Steffon looked up at Meera in surprise. This didn't seem like something ladies should do. Although ladies also shouldn't climb trees.
"If you want to," he said. "Would your husband let you?"
Meera chuckled slightly. "I do want to," she said. "And I don't have to ask my husband for permission. He doesn't own me and I don't own him, that's not how our marriage works."
"You know how to shoot?" Steffon asked.
"I do, my father started teaching me when I was very young. And later I taught my brother when he was about your age. Jojen was never very good at it though."
"You have a brother?"
"I had a brother... he's gone now."
"Just like Dev."
"Dev's not dead, you can still see him again one day. I will never see my brother."
"What happened to your brother?"
"He... fell in battle," Meera said and jumped down from the tree. It seemed like she didn't want to talk more about her brother. "Come on. I'll go get my bow and arrow and then we can practice out in the woods right outside the walls."
***
The forest was small but teemed with life. Thick oaks and high birch trees shaded Steffon and Meera's path. Purple blossoms peaked out from under the underbrush. Ruffles and growls from critters who dwelled in the bushes could be heard, but they weren't seen. The forest floor was padded with bright green moss and blueberry bushes. The berries were round as marbles and almost black in color. Steffon picked a berry and tried it. The taste was sweet and tangy as the berry burst in his mouth.
Eventually, they came to a clearing, and that's where they took out their bows. Meera showed Steffon how to stand and how to hold the bow. Then she set up some crossed branches as targets and stood next to him as he tried to shoot. It didn't go too well at first but eventually, he got the hang of it. Meera was a patient and kind teacher.
Steffon was thrilled to have someone to play with again and Meera seemed to enjoy the distraction it gave her. Many serious discussions had taken place at the castle since they arrived back. No one had told Steffon what it was all about but he understood there to be some kind of threat against the castle and against Lord and Lady Baratheon. He had also heard his parents whisper about Lady Baratheon being with child but surely that couldn't be true. Ladies who were with child didn't run around in the woods alone or climbed trees.
Of course, he still missed his brother. But now he had someone to go on adventures with at least. And when Dev came back, because he had to come back, Steffon would be able to show him that he already knew how to shoot a bow and arrow. He was sure that Dev would be very proud of him.
***
It was nighttime at Storm's End. The wind rustled against the windows and darkness inhabited every nook and cranny of the castle. After having spent the whole day in the Great Hall, explaining maps and interpreting books to Lord Baratheon, Stannis was tired. But he was glad he had lots of work to do as it took his mind off his brother and how much he missed him.
As he approached the door to his room Stannis heard a sound. It came from the room next to his. Devan's room.
He knew who it was. And he knew he had to go in there.
Stannis opened the door slowly. And there was Brynda. She sat on the bed crying while cradling one of the pillows.
The room was just as messy as Devan left it. The bed was unmade. Clothes laid in piles on the floor. A strange odor emanated from under the bed. Dev had probably stashed away food there.
Brynda acknowledged Stannis' presence without a word. He sat down next to her and put his arm gently around her.
"I miss him too," he said.
Brynda nodded, face still covered in the pillow. She picked some hairs off it and cradled them in her hand. They were from Devan's messy mop of a head.
"What will you do now?" he asked. "About the child I mean."
The question had to be asked sooner or later. For now, Stannis was the only one who knew, but it would be hard to hide it much longer.
"I don't know," she said. "I'll probably start showing soon, and my family will find out. They will marry me off quickly. Probably to a distant cousin."
"Then my family would never see that child," Stannis replied. "My parents would never meet their grandchild."
"No. You wouldn't. The child wouldn't be a Seaworth."
"It should be though."
"Well, Dev can't marry me now. Even if he comes back it would be too late."
Then it dawned on Stannis. The solution. How to solve this for all of them.
"No," he said. "But I can. I can marry you, Brynda."
Brynda looked at Stannis. Confused and astounded. Like the idea was preposterous.
"You're just a child, Stan," she said.
"I'm sixteen years old," he replied.
"Like I said. A child."
"Regardless of whether I'm a child or not I'm my father's heir. Your family would accept my marriage proposal. I can make that child a Seaworth."
"As a lord, you need to have your own children."
"You know I'm not... interested in women. I don't even know if I would be able to sire children. If you marry me that would solve that problem. I would have an heir. And the child would look enough like me for no one to question its parentage."
"What if Dev comes back?"
"Then we'll sort it out somehow. I'm sure he would prefer for me to raise his child instead of a stranger. For that child to have his last name."
Brynda nodded. It made sense. All of it. It was the best solution in their current situation.
Her hand touched his gently. He looked up at her. Face still red from tears and her blonde hair tangled. But there was clarity in her eyes.
"I will marry you, Stannis Seaworth," she said. "For Devan's sake. For our child's sake."
He wrapped his hand around hers. It felt a bit odd holding a woman's hand. It was so soft and warm. Not at all like Bastian's hand.
"For my brother's sake," he said.
Her hand squeezed his back and they looked at each other. They knew this was right. It wasn't what they wanted to do, but it was what they had to do. It was the best solution to a bad situation.
***
The wedding was held a few weeks later in the Great Hall.
Brynda didn't cry as she walked down the aisle, accompanied by her uncle Lord Selwyn of Tarth. She never cried. In fact, she didn't feel anything. Neither sadness nor joy. She was there, but she also wasn't.
Her dress was in light sapphire, just like the sea below the islands from which she hailed. It had wide sleeves and buttons all the way up the high collar. Around the edge of the sleeves and the collar, tiny blue gemstones sparkled in a pattern that looked like waves on the ocean.
Around her, everything was blue like the ocean. In shades from light sapphire as a sandy beach to dark blue as a stormy night. Flowers, table cloths, curtains. The tables were decorated with seashells and driftwood. Suitable for a wedding between two seafaring houses. The work of Marya Seaworth she suspected.
It was the wedding she had dreamt of. Everything was as it should. Except that Devan wasn't there. And that was the only thing that mattered.
Of course, there were worse men to marry than the one who waited for her at the end of the hall. Stannis was kind, smart, and honorable. He would be a good father for her child. But he wasn't his brother. He wasn't Dev.
When they reached the end of the hall her uncle left her standing opposite her new husband. Stannis stood a step above her to hide the fact that he was shorter than his bride. His hair was slicked down and proper, not messy like Dev's. And his jacket was buttoned in a meticulous fashion.
Behind Stannis stood his parents and younger brother. They hadn't told them the reason for the marriage but she suspected Marya and Davos knew. They knew that this marriage wasn't entered out of love for each other but for their shared love towards Devan.
At Stannis' side stood Bastian, his lover and friend. Brynda saw the look the boys gave each other. A look of love. It was the same way Dev used to look at her. She didn't intend to get in the way of their love. Perhaps it would even be easier for them to love each other in the shadow of a marriage.
As the ceremony went on Brynda said all the words she needed to say. Every promise and every vow. But she didn't make them to Stannis, she made them to Devan.
She promised him loyalty and fidelity. Because by marrying his brother she forever became part of his family. This was for them. So that her child would be theirs as well.
She swore to wait for him for as long as it took. He would be back one day. She knew that. And when he returned she and their child would be there for him.
With a kiss, she finalized her marriage. A kiss not meant for the fumbling teenage boy in front of her, who had probably never kissed a woman before, but for his charming older brother.
She knew that and Stannis knew that. And that's why this would work.
Hand in hand they walked out of the hall. United in marriage and in their resolve to do what they needed for Devan. So that he could return one day and reclaim what was his.
***
It was cold. So damn cold. Devan and the other recruits had traveled for weeks to get to Castle Black. Now they stood in the courtyard and awaited the commander.
Scattered piles of snow laid on the ground. The air was cold enough that their breaths turned into clouds. Everything was dark and dull. And so fucking cold. The cold really had to be emphasized.
Then he arrived. Commander Snow. He wasn't very tall. But he still had a commanding presence in his huge fur coat. His long curly hair was pulled up in the back and he had a beard. Perhaps to look older than his years.
"Welcome to Castle Black," he said. "This is where they send you. Those that are not wanted anymore by the kingdom. Those that they want to punish but not kill. This is our kingdom, and this is where I rule."
He walked in front of them as he talked and eyed every recruit. Perhaps he measured their potential.
"Now tell me your names," Jon continued.
They said their names one by one.
"Devan Seaworth," Devan said when it was his turn, looking straight ahead as he spoke.
Jon looked back at him, startled. As if memories he had tried to suppress suddenly flooded back.
"Are you Davos' son?" he asked.
Devan nodded. Realizing that perhaps his father's name meant something here.
"Go to my study once we're done here," Jon said. "I need to talk to you."
***
A warm cup of soup was put in front of him as Devan entered the study. He devoured it almost instantly. He hadn't had any proper food since before he was arrested.
"This is for you," Jon said and handed Devan a letter, it had his father's clumsy handwriting on it. "A raven arrived with it a few days ago. They fly faster than people travel."
Devan took it and looked at it. A message from the home and family he might never see again.
"I usually burn the letters," Jon continued. "Recruits are not allowed to receive letters. But I knew your father and he asked me to do this one thing for him. I couldn't refuse him. So I will allow you to read your letter, Devan Seaworth. But there will be no more letters after this. Because once you arrive here you are gone from the kingdom."
Devan nodded and opened the letter carefully.
"But not forever," he mumbled. Jon seemingly ignored his remark, perhaps certain that this conviction would be knocked out of him eventually. Jon was wrong.
"I will need to burn it after you've read it," Jon said. "The other men can't know you received it. So read it carefully."
Devan did. He read the letter as carefully as he could. And he read it again.
Then he cried.
Because the letter told him that he was to become a father. Brynda carried his child.
But he would not get to raise that child. Instead, his brother would. Forced to take on the responsibility that should have been his.
He didn't blame Stannis. He was grateful for his sacrifice.
He blamed himself. He should have been more careful, more responsible, more mature.
But instead, he had become his own father. The one thing he had never wanted to be. A man absent from his children. By force or circumstance didn't matter. He still wasn't there. Just like Davos hadn't been.
But Davos had come back. And one day Devan would too. He promised himself that. He promised his child that.
One day he would hold that child in his arms.
Chapter 20: Escape plan
Summary:
Devan is by the wall, although he's trying his best to get away from there, and he meets up with some familiar characters. He annoys them a lot.
Chapter Text
Once again Devan was locked in a cell. At least he wasn't in shackles this time. And, as opposed to the cell in the capital, this cell had a bed, and food was served regularly. Commander Snow didn't seem to want to punish him too harshly for his escape attempts, probably because of his friendship with Devan's father.
Devan had been at Castle Black for about a month now and he had already tried to escape about a dozen times. Usually, his punishment was a day or two locked in this cell, then they let him out again, and then he tried to escape again. The guards outside the castle always caught him and brought him back since the brothers of the Nightwatch were supposed to stay in Castle Black or any of the other castles along the wall.
But Devan didn't intend to stay.
There must be a way. There must be a way for him to get back to Brynda and his child. And he would find it.
He sat on the bed, contemplating his next escape attempt when he heard the lock on the door opening. As he looked up a man entered. Tall with a red beard and a grin on his face. Tormund Giantsbane.
"I heard you tried to run again, little sea bird," Tormund said and shook Devan's hair roughly.
"It's Seaworth, I've told you that... and one of these days I will leave you all behind for good," Devan replied.
"I'll believe it when I see it...." Tormund muttered and sat down on the bed, making the whole rickety construction shake.
"And how do you plan to hide that?" he asked and pointed towards Devan's hands. On the back of both of them were black tattoos in the shape of snowflakes. The mark of the Night's Watch. All the men had been marked with them when they arrived, signifying that a man belonged at the wall and should be returned there if found elsewhere.
"I'll just wear gloves I guess..." Devan replied. "But do they really have to mark both hands?"
"Well, a man might be desperate enough to cut off his own hand. But he wouldn't be desperate enough to cut off both. To not be able to eat, fight, hold your own child. It wouldn't be worth it. Not even for freedom. Because how free would you be?"
Devan glared down at the tattoos again. It was true of course. He doubted he would ever be that desperate.
"Why are you even here yourself?" Devan asked. "You're not a prisoner. You can leave at any time."
"I'm here because Jon asked me to help him after we lead my people back beyond the wall," Tormund replied. "But I can leave just like you can. Everyone here is free to leave and go beyond the wall if they want. Wildlings and crows. But they don't want either of us in their kingdoms down south. Most men just chose to stay here. Because here they are fed and clothed. They get a bed to sleep in. Living beyond the wall is harsh if you're not used to it."
"I don't want to go beyond the wall... I want to go home."
"That you can't do. You know that, sea bird. And I don't blame you. If I had your woman, I would want to be with her too. If she's anything like her cousin."
They had talked several times since Devan arrived, as the wildling man had been eager to hear what "the large woman," as he called her, was up to. Once he found out that Devan was in love with Brienne's cousin, Tormund had wanted to know all the details. All the raunchy details. Devan hadn't told him anything, not even about a certain encounter on a couch, but that didn't mean Tormund stopped asking.
"Brynda sure is a great woman," Devan said with a smile. "Her cousin Brienne is a bit too rough for my taste though. She manhandled me quite well when they threw me in prison."
"That's why I like her," Tormund said with a giant grin on his face. "So, did she talk about me?"
"I was in a prison cell when I met her. She didn't really talk about her love life..."
"So, she has a love life then?" Tormund asked with a hurt expression on her face. "She's found someone else..."
"I don't know... I was in a prison cell! But I think King's guards take a vow of chastity, so I wouldn't think so."
Tormund looked relieved. "I'm sure she would break it for me though."
Devan rolled his eyes. This was not the first time they'd had this very discussion. It never led anywhere.
"If I were to leave here and go beyond the wall," he asked. "Is there a way to get back to Westeros from there?"
"The castles along the wall are all guarded, so unless you want to climb over the wall...."
"There's a hole in the wall."
"That hole is guarded by the Night's Watch as well."
"There must be a way..."
Tormund got up from the bed and sighed. This was not the first time they had this discussion either, and it also never led anywhere. "Come on, sea bird," he said. "Let's get you out of this cell. There's some warm food down in the hall."
***
The hall was full of young men. All frozen, lost, and grumpy. All dressed in black. All with the same tattoos on their hands. None of them wanted to be here, but none of them could leave. Not even the commander.
Devan sat poking around in his stew. It didn't look very appetizing. It was unclear which animal the meat even came from. Tormund, who sat next to Devan and happily chowed down his meal, claimed it was beaver tail. That did not make the meal more appetizing. Devan usually wasn't very picky when it came to eating, but the rubbery texture of the meat made even him lose his appetite.
Someone put a hand on his shoulder, and he turned around. "Seaworth," Jon Snow said. "So, you didn't go for the immediate escape upon release this time."
Jon sat down next to him, also with a bowl of stew in his hand. His dire wolf Ghost jumped up next to him on the bench. Devan flinched a bit as the wolf sniffed his hair and tried to put its nose in his stew. As the wolf's tongue started to lick the contents of his bowl, Devan pushed it towards the animal. He didn't want to eat it anyway, and apparently, Ghost found beaver tail to be a delicacy.
"I figured I would at least get something to eat first," Devan replied.
"Well, you're not exactly eating your food, are you?" Jon replied and gestured towards Ghost, who was munching beside him.
"Maybe you should serve better food..."
"You know they used to hang men who escaped," Jon said in a sharper tone. "You're lucky I'm a kind commander and that I knew your father. A dozen escape attempts should at least have earned you a lost hand or a banishment beyond the wall."
"I don't think I'm exactly lucky..." Devan grumbled. "Then I wouldn't be here. Doomed to serve a punishment for a crime that I didn't commit."
"It doesn't matter if you committed your crime or not. Not once you're here. We're all the same here. Do you think you're the only one who has a woman or a child back in Westeros? Everyone wants to get back to someone."
"You're not the same. You're the commander. And you did commit your crime... my father told me he was the one who found you in that throne room. You admitted right away to killing the queen, even though there was no body."
"I am the commander. And I did commit my crime. My punishment is worse than yours because I have to force you all to stay here as well. I have to crush your dreams every time you try to escape."
"You don't have to. You could just let me... what would be the harm?"
"It would harm my honor. And honor is all I have these days. I've promised my sister Sansa and my brother Bran to contain prisoners up here, to keep their kingdoms safe. And the Northern soldiers would catch you if you escaped. They would catch you and punish you far worse than me."
"But why are we even up here? There's nothing to guard anymore. You won the war against the dead. I heard the rumors about it down south that they were going to invade the whole kingdom. But then the threat was vanquished before they made it further than Winterfell. I was almost disappointed."
"We did win. This time. But who knows if or when the threat will appear again. That's why we're here. To make sure that if something comes from the North, we're ready."
"Something did come from the North... and it now rules the whole of Westeros."
"My brother rules Westeros," Jon said in a defensive tone. This was also a discussion that had been had before.
"The king's not your brother," Devan insisted.
"You keep saying that, Seaworth. But why would I believe you? If I believed you, I would have to believe my brother is dead, and I can't believe that."
"But what if it is true? You know Lord Baratheon. Don't you trust him?"
Jon sighed, seemingly getting tired of Devan's line of questioning.
"I do trust Gendry, " he said. "But it can't be true. He and his wife must be mistaken."
"But what if it is?" Devan tried again.
Another sigh, but suddenly a glint in Jon's eyes. A hint of something else, a man who wasn't exasperated with life and duty. A man who lived for something besides honor.
"Then..." he said, a bit hesitantly. "I would have to avenge him."
"I'll prove it to you," Devan said confidently. "Somehow. I'll prove that he's not your brother, and then you'll take me with you to Westeros to avenge your brother."
"I don't know how you can prove that, Seaworth."
Devan thought for a moment, and then it dawned on him. There was a way. A way out of here. But it wasn't to the south. It was to the north. Far, far, north.
"The cave," he said. "The cave Meera told me about. The cave where your brother died."
"You're going to go beyond the wall alone?" Jon asked.
"Tormund can come with me. He'll help me find my way."
"If you'll tell me about what you did on that couch," Tormund said with another big grin. "Then, I'll go with you anywhere."
"Sure," Devan sighed, realizing how much time they would have to talk while traveling together.
"And what do you expect to find up there exactly?"
"Something... some kind of proof that what she said is true."
"So, you would bring this proof with you back to me?"
Devan nodded. He didn't know what he would find, but he knew there had to be something. Because it was his only chance to escape from this godforsaken place.
"I'll come with you," Jon suddenly said to Devan's surprise. "Then I can see with my own eyes whatever proof there is. And if there's nothing there, perhaps that will shut you up once and for all, Seaworth."
There was a hint of a smile on Jon's face. Perhaps the adventure of going beyond the wall excited him. Perhaps it reminded him of adventures lived in the past. Perhaps it reminded him of a certain wildling girl with red hair.
Devan smiled as well. Finally, he had a plan. A plan that could actually work. To go north to be able to go south. To prove to Jon that the king was not his brother. To make him realize that whatever did sit on that throne needed to be fought.
But he was a bit nervous about what they would find in that cave.
Chapter 21: Two queens
Summary:
It's time to check in on the rest of the kingdom, before turning back to the Stormlands. Queen Sansa and Queen Ellaria make a deal, that might affect the future for our heroes.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Three kingdoms. One king. And two queens.
It's their turn to make their moves, in this never-ending game.
***
There were white specks everywhere, on the ground and in the air. Quentyn Martell had heard of snow but he had never seen it before. Sandy dunes and dry heat were what he was used to in his Dornish homelands. When he breathed in it felt like the snowflakes invaded his lungs, the coldness of the air made them hurt.
He wanted to go home. Even the prison cell where he had been thrown into when Ellaria took his power seemed like a better option than this harsh environment. But he couldn't go home. Because shackles around his wrists and ankles prevented him from going anywhere.
So he stood on a cold snowy dock, in the far Northern kingdom. Freezing and miserable. Awaiting whatever destiny was chosen for him
He wore Dornish finery. A tunic embroidered with golden and turquoise threads that formed peacock wings over the shoulders and sleeves. Thick gold chains around his neck. Purple gemstones in his earlobes. Servants had come to his cell on the ship, before they reached land, to dress him.
As he stood on the dock, shackled and surrounded by guards, Ellaria Sand deboarded the ship. The Queen of Dorne. Quentyn had not even known she was on the ship. But whatever he knew that him being here must be part of her plan.
Her golden dress, with chains holding the skirt and bodice together, looked misplaced in the North, it was too fancy and too revealing. Which encapsulated exactly who Ellaria was; too fancy and too revealing. Her bare arms should be freezing in this weather but Ellaria showed no sign of being bothered by the cold. Like being queen made her unable to feel such petty things.
The guards moved from his sides as she approached. Ellaria looked at Quentyn and smirked.
"You look like a prince," she said. "Just like I need you to."
"What am I doing here?" he asked.
Ellaria didn't answer, instead, she looked towards the road leading up towards the dock. A wagon was approaching. A wagon adorned with the Stark sigil.
Another woman stepped out. Tall. Long red hair. An elegant grey wool dress. Fur draped over her shoulders.
She looked regal. And she was. She was the Queen of the North. She was Sansa Stark.
Sansa walked up to Quentyn and Ellaria on the dock. Her eyes were proud and resentful.
A few feet away from them the Queen of the North stopped. She looked Quentyn up and down.
"He's pretty," she said. "He'll do."
Ellaria grabbed Quentyn's arm and pushed him toward Sansa. He stumbled a bit but soon found his footing and turned around to face Ellaria. Confused about what was going on.
"Then he's yours," Ellaria said.
"Where's my part of our agreement?" Sansa asked.
Ellaria pointed towards the sea where several more Dornish ships were visible in the distance. "There's your grains, Queen Sansa," she said. "50 ships full of it, like we agreed."
Sansa nodded, a pleased look on her face. "That should be enough to feed my people until our own crops start to grow again," she said. "Thank you, Queen Ellaria. My men will load your weapons and armor on the ships once they've unloaded the grains."
"No need to thank me. I'm only giving you what you need so you will give me what I need. And so you, and your brother, won't oppose what I intend to do."
"Neither of us will stand in your way. As long as you only touch the Stormlands."
"The Stormlands are all I want."
And with that Ellaria turned around and started walking back to the ship.
As she boarded the ship she turned around and faced Quentyn one last time. "Enjoy your new home, prince Quentyn," she said.
Then she was gone. And Quentyn was still there. Standing next to the Queen of the North.
"Take off his shackles," Sansa said to the guards behind her. "He doesn't need them anymore."
The guards obliged quickly. It was a relief for Quentyn to no longer be weighed down and restricted. But it was still so damn cold. He couldn't feel his hands or feet at this point.
"Come with me," she said and gestured to him.
They walked towards the wagon and got inside. Finally some respite from the cold. Quentyn tried to breathe on his hands to warm them.
"You'll get used to the cold," the queen said.
Since he wasn't shackled anymore Quentyn figured he was allowed to speak. "What am I doing here, my queen?" he asked.
"Ellaria didn't tell you?"
"She didn't tell me anything?"
"You, my prince, are to be my consort," Sansa said. "To unite our kingdoms and our houses. I asked her for food for my kingdom and she wanted weapons in return. And that I, and my brother, won't meddle in her affairs down south. You're the seal to our alliance. A Dornish prince for a Northern kingdom. She expects us to have children of Dornish blood."
Quentyn looked at her in surprise and shock. This was not what he had expected. He wouldn't be a prisoner in the North, he would be the husband of the queen.
Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had feared.
He attempted a smile towards his wife-to-be. She did not return it. Her blue eyes looked right through him, cold and uncaring.
"There won't be any children, of course," Sansa continued. "She can't control that. You will look and play the part of my consort when I need you to, but I won't let you into my bedroom. Because I want to make one thing clear: I, and no one else, rules the North. I won't give away power to anyone, not you, and not my children. You are here to play a part, and you better play it well. Or I'll throw you to the wolves and find myself another consort."
Or maybe it would be just that bad. Or even worse.
***
A few days later Sansa Stark was once again a bride. For the third time. But this time it was of no else's choice than her own.
She had never intended to marry again. And she certainly never intended to let another man into her bed. But this marriage was part of the game she was playing. A game for power and justice for the North.
Her advisors had been nagging her to marry since she took the throne. And now she did, but on her own terms.
Kings married pretty women and had them sit by their side. It was only right that a queen would marry a pretty man and have him sit by her side. And that would be all her consort would ever do. He would sit there and look pretty. He would smile and he would laugh. That was all he was good for anyway. Because she had made sure her husband was dumb and unambitious.
Her dress wasn't white. White dresses were for blushing brides with hopes of love and affection. Her dress was in black wool with leather details. Thick and covering. The collar was high and the sleeves were long. Showing not a sliver of skin to her new husband.
Quentyn stuck out as he stood at the front of the hall, awaiting her. Long curly black hair and amber-colored eyes, so unlike the pale coloring of most northerners. His tunic was bright purple with an intricate golden pattern around the neck. Around his shoulders hung a thick brown fur coat. The poor guy had been freezing since arriving and even with the coat, he appeared to be shivering.
Her consort was handsome, even Sansa had to admit that. Having him around to look at wouldn't be a hardship.
As she walked up next to him he smiled. A genuine smile. A warm smile. A hopeful smile.
Sansa had to make an effort to not smile back, She wouldn't let him in. Never ever. Never again.
She wouldn't let him in. She repeated that over and over in her head. No matter how pretty his smile was.
But yet there was that faint instinct to smile back as Quentyn smiled at her.
Maybe one day she wouldn't be able to hold that smile back.
***
The harbor in Sunspear was filled with noise and commotion. Hundreds of ships soon ready to set sail. Scorching sun peered down over it all and made the swords and shields that were being loaded onto the ships sparkle.
Ellaria Sand looked out over her armada. Now enforced with Northern weapons.
Those weapons had been forged for the war against the dead. A bastard blacksmith called Gendry had helped forge those weapons. And now they would be used against a Lord Paramount called Gendry Baratheon. The same man, but yet not. It's funny how fate twists sometimes.
Ellaria didn't know this. If she had known she would have laughed at the irony. Ellaria only knew that she now possessed everything she needed.
Finally, Quentyn had been good for something.
Finally, she could set her plan in motion.
Finally, she could take the Stormlands.
***
The sun rose over Storm's End. Not a cloud in the sky, not a gust of wind, not a drop of rain. Just soft early morning sunlight, birdsong, and an endless blue sky.
But yet there was something in the air. A storm approaching from Dorne.
That was yet to be of concern for the Lord of the Stormlands, currently, he had other things on his mind.
Gendry Baratheon was still in bed. Laying on his back. His wife was on top of him and he was inside of her. United in love and pleasure.
Meera looked more beautiful than ever in his eyes. Her unbrushed hair cascaded wildly around her face. A small bump on her belly could be hinted through the nightgown.
Her breasts threatened to escape through the top of the nightgown. They appeared to have grown just like her belly. He felt compelled to reach up and touch them.
A soft moan escaped her throat as his hand touched her breast. "Be careful," she said. "They're quite sore."
"I will," he replied and leaned up to kiss her again while his fingers circled her nipple. Barely touching the skin.
Meera moaned again. "Keep doing that," she said.
His hand kept stimulating her nipple. His other hand was at her lower back, pulling her closer with each thrust.
For every thrust, he felt the bump on her belly stroking against him. The knowledge that they together had created the life in there was intoxicating. It reminded him that it was real. That their child was in there.
A knock on the door disturbed their pleasure. Gendry tried to ignore it at first but the knocks didn't stop.
"Lord and Lady Baratheon," Davos said on the other side. "Some concerning news has arrived. You're needed in the Great Hall."
"We'll be out there in a moment," Gendry yelled back.
"We'll be waiting for you," Davos replied. "Some urgent decisions need to be made."
Gendry groaned. This didn't sound good. Not at all. His thoughts started to whirl, trying to figure out what could have happened.
"Hey," his wife said, putting her hands around his face. "Stay with me for a moment. We can worry about whatever has happened soon. But right now we're still here."
Gendry nodded and leaned in to kiss Meera again. Shutting in his worries for another moment. Turning them into attention towards her instead. His hands grabbed onto her hips. His lips locked onto hers. They moved in unison back and forth. Everything became tense, hot, and charged.
They were all that mattered. Their movement, their bodies, their love. Everything else could wait. At least for a moment.
During that moment they stayed in their own bubble. Where it was only them and their child. Where no one could get to them. Where no one could disturb.
Then the bubble burst. Hot energy wrapped around them both before it dissipated. They held on to each other for as long as they could, they held onto that emotion. But soon it was gone and other thoughts seeped in, thoughts of what they needed to do.
Gendry kissed his wife softly. "We need to go down to the hall," he said with a sigh.
Meera nodded and kissed him back. Then she rolled off him and down onto the bed, her hands clasped over her growing belly.
"It feels like I get bigger every day," she said.
"And you get more beautiful every day as well," he replied and leaned down to kiss her. His hand stroked the bump on her belly carefully.
Meera rolled her eyes at him. "I get clumsier for every day," she said. "Soon we won't be able to hide it any longer."
They hadn't told anyone at the castle yet about the pregnancy, except for Davos and Marya. But they would have to announce it to everyone soon. Which should be a joyous occasion, with parties and announcements sent out far and wide. But this wouldn't be. This would have to be secretive. Because they would have to make sure the king didn't find out.
Since no announcements would be sent out they wouldn't even be able to tell Howland that he was to become a grandfather. It was too risky to send news to the Neck as the letter could be intercepted by the king.
Gendry located his clothes on a chair next to the bed and started to get dressed. Suddenly he heard a discontented sound from his wife that made him turn around.
"They won't fit anymore," Meera mumbled, as she tried to close her pants.
"Perhaps you should consider wearing one of the skirts Marya brought for you," he said, knowing this suggestion would annoy his wife.
His wife just growled at him and proceeded to close her pants with the help of a string. She wasn't about to wear a skirt until it was absolutely necessary. Her tunic would cover the top of the pants anyway. It also still hid her bump quite well.
Then they walked down to the Great Hall. Hand in hand. Nervous about what news awaited them.
Davos, Lord Penrose, and Stannis were all waiting for them in the hall. They all looked serious. Too serious.
"Is it the king?" Gendry asked as he sat down.
Davos shook his head. "No," he said. "It's not the king. It's Dorne. Dornish warships have been spotted around our coasts. Armed to the teeth. They must be preparing an attack."
Gendry and Meera took each other's hands under the table. Preparing to face this new threat. Together.
In the coming months, they would do what they could to prevent an attack. And Meera's belly would grow even further.
But the clock would run down. And on the worst day possible the attack would come.
On the day when their daughter Joreen was born.
Notes:
Perhaps you remember Quentyn briefly from book 1? I made him the Dornish prince who is present at the council at the end of the show. Ellaria later usurps him and throws him in a dungeon. (He is not based on book Quentyn in looks or personality really, but I needed a name for a Dornish character who hadn't been used in the show, and he was the most fitting option age- and family-wise)
My other story The Direwolf and the Sandfox is actually a spinoff from this chapter, following Sansa and Quentyn. I fell out of love with that story though and it's not finished (and I'm not sure it will be). It's written in a one-shot format though so the chapters published can stand in their own right I think.
Chapter 22: The dream
Summary:
Meera has a dream about her brother. She wonders if it might be true, so Gendry goes down to the forge to test out a theory.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They did what they could to counter the new threat that was upon them. They sent the small Seaworth fleet to scout the coastline, hoping to at least be warned when the Dornish ships returned to attack. They moved troops from the Northern border, where they had been stationed to guard against attacks from the king to the southern coast where Dornish ships were expected to land.
But this left them open to attacks from the capital instead. If the king found out about their child he could come for them at any time.
The world closed in on them. Threats came at them from all directions. Life became stressful and hard to handle.
The night after the news of the Dornish threat arrived was the first time a new dream haunted Meera. Then it came back every night afterward.
The dream was always the same. So vivid. So real. So terrifying.
A few weeks later she was once again stuck in that dream. Unable to flee from it.
She held her child in her arms and Bran stood in front of her. Or not Bran, the King. She could see in his eyes that he was not Bran. The king didn't move, he just stood there. Behind him was a flock of ravens, so many that the sky turned dark. Then he raised his hand to command the birds to attack Meera and her child. She had nothing to defend herself and the child with. But just as the birds were upon them Jojen stepped in. With a sword in his hand, her brother chased the oncoming threat away.
But the sword wasn't a sword. She saw that for the first time now. It had a hilt like a sword but the edge of it wasn't metal. It was weirwood. A pale branch of weirwood with red leaves was what Jojen used to defeat the ravens.
And that's when she woke up. Drenched in sweat.
"The same dream?" her husband asked as he leaned and moved some tangled strands of hair from her face. She must have woken him up from twisting in her sleep or perhaps kicking him.
She nodded and reached down towards her belly. The small bump, that grew right under her belly button, reassured her. The child was still there. Still inside of her. The king couldn't get to it.
"It must mean something," she said. "Just like Jojen's dreams."
Gendry nodded but appeared too sleepy to try to interpret the dream.
As he laid down on the bed again Meera pondered the dream. Maybe it wasn't symbolic, but literal. Maybe it was that simple. Maybe all she needed was a blacksmith.
"Can you forge a sword out of weirwood?" she asked her almost asleep husband, the only lord in the kingdom who also knew how to forge a sword.
"I've never heard of such a thing," he replied with his face in the pillow. "Wood burns."
"I know that, dear husband," she said and poked him teasingly in the side. "But can you try anyway? Weirwood is different than other wood. Perhaps it will act differently. Maybe that's what the dream is telling me."
"I can try," he said, probably just wanting to shut her up so he could go back to sleep. "I'll have Mychal help me. He's more skilled than me these days anyway."
When they got back to Storm's End from the Neck Meera had planted the branches of weirwood she brought in the courtyard. Every day since she had gone by and watered and cared for them. The plants hadn't turned into a godswood yet, but they appeared to have rooted since Meera had seen some new leaves sprouting at the ends of the branches.
One day her new home would have a godswood. One day her children would play there. And their children.
***
The next morning Gendry went down to the forge and put Mychal to work. The other blacksmith shook his head when introduced to the idea of forging weirwood. But he went along with it anyway. Lord Baratheon was after all the one who paid his salary. So if he wanted to waste Mychal's time on futile efforts it was on him.
Meera had carefully cut off some branches from the budding weirwood plants that morning. These branches were now presented to Mychal.
"I don't think you can make a sword out of this," he said skeptically, looking at the short and thin branches.
"Perhaps a dagger then," Gendry replied with a smile. Although he was just as skeptical as Mychal.
"I doubt you can forge anything out of weirwood. So not much use planning what to make of it."
"Just give it a try. For my wife's sake."
"I will. Because I know a thing or two about the requests women make when they're with child..."
They had announced the pregnancy to everyone at the castle a few days earlier since it was getting difficult to keep it a secret. Everyone had also been told that this news should not travel outside the walls of the castle.
Mychal put some wood in the furnace and got to work. As they waited for the furnace to heat the two men sat down on a workbench together.
"I heard your child was born while I was away," Gendry said.
Mychal nodded. "A boy," he said.
"What did you name him?"
Mychal put his hand on Gendry's shoulder. "You didn't hear?" he asked. "I named him after you. His name is Gendry."
Gendry looked astounded at Mychal. "Why?" he asked. The thought of children being named after him felt preposterous.
"You know why," Mychal said. "You saved me, my wife, and my child. You're a good man. Who hasn't forgotten who you were before. That you were just like me."
"I'm still just like you. A title doesn't change anything."
"You're not like me. But as long as you think you are you will remain a good and humble man."
Gendry nodded, he wasn't going to dispute that. Perhaps he was a bit different than he had once been. He certainly had more responsibilities.
He didn't feel like being a lord had truly changed him. But he suspected something else that would happen soon would.
"By the way, I fixed the lock on your door while you were away," Mychal said. "No one else seemed to bother with it so I took it upon myself. There wasn't much smithing to do anyway. I figured a married couple needs a lock on their door, so they can make children in peace. Although I guess you've already done that part..."
"Thank you," Gendry replied. "I had forgotten about that myself... I always have so much else on my mind these days."
"I figured as much. It must be a lot with everything that is going on."
"There is," he said. "I thought being a bastard blacksmith was hard... being a lord is harder. Just in a different way. I don't have to fight to survive myself every day now, instead, I have to fight so everyone else survives."
"And soon you'll have a child to fight for too. Let me tell you, that changes everything. No matter if you're a lord of a blacksmith."
A child that was of his blood. And Meera's. It was hard for him to grasp still. He probably wouldn't fully comprehend it until the child was born.
"What does it feel like?" Gendry asked. "To hold your child for the first time."
"Best feeling in the world," Mychal said. "Suddenly everything else but that child feels unimportant. You yourself become unimportant. The rest of the world becomes unimportant. Unless it threatens your child. Then you will do whatever is in your power to take it down."
Gendry nodded and looked down at the ground. There was already a threat to his child. And he would do whatever was in his power to take it down.
The question was just if he had enough power.
Mychal went over to the furnace and poked the coals. It appeared to be hot enough. So he put one of the weirwood branches into the heat.
"Let's see what happens," he said.
Nothing happened at first. No fizzle or burn. Mychal sat back on the bench while they waited for whatever would happen. If something would happen.
"We're leaving Storm's End," Mychal suddenly said. "Me and my wife. We're going back to the capital."
"Why?" Gendry asked. "It's not safe there."
"I got a letter from a friend who went back. Stannis read it to me. My friend wrote that my mother and sister have returned. We were separated from them when the city burned. I thought they died, but now they're back. I have to go see them. I have to let them meet my son."
"You can bring them here."
Mychal shook his head. "My mother would never agree to that. The capital is her home. And they will need me there. We all lived together before the city burned. My mother makes some money as a seamstress but it's not enough for them. My sister had a child, a bastard son just like you and me, who she has to care for. So she can't work much. But a blacksmith makes enough to support all of them."
Gendry put his hand on Mychal's shoulder, he knew he couldn't make him stay. "Just know that if you ever need something, you can come here," he said.
"I know. That's why I named my son after you."
As smoke started to pour out of the furnace Mychal jumped down from the bench and used a pair of tongs to remove the branch from the fire. It was black and sooty but hadn't full burnt. He put it on the bench. A loud clonk was heard as he dropped it.
Gendry looked over in surprise and walked up to the bench. So he took a hammer and poked the branch lightly. It was hard. Like metal.
Mychal appeared confused as well. He picked up a pair of tongs and used them to turn the branch over and look at it from different angles. It looked the same everywhere.
"I believe you might be able to forge that into something," Gendry said.
Mychal nodded. "It appears like it," he said. "I will give it a try."
***
A few days later Gendry and Meera said goodbye to Mychal, Lilya, and their baby son Gendry in the courtyard of Storm's End.
As he embraced Mychal a hug the other man put something in his hand. "There's your dagger, " Mychal said. "Your wife was right. It was possible."
Gendry looked at the weapon. It was small and light. But still appeared very sharp and durable. The handle was carved so it looked like leaves and the white blade shone in the sunlight. The work of a skilled blacksmith. A last gift from a friend.
He handed the dagger to his wife, who looked at it in amazement. "It looks just like the sword in the dream," Meera said. "But smaller."
A dagger out of weirwood. A weapon to defeat evil. A dream that would come true.
"So what do we with it now," Gendry asked.
"I don't know," she replied. "But I think we'll need it one day. Thank you, Mychal."
"I only did what your husband told me," the blacksmith said. "He's the one who pays me, after all..."
"Thank you, my friend," Gendry said. "I hope I'll see you again someday."
"I hope so too," Mychal replied. "Perhaps when all this is over you will come to the capital."
The capital was where they would meet again. In a moment of despair, Mychal would be there. He would open the door to let hope in once again.
Notes:
Keep Mychal in mind for the end of this story...
Chapter 23: She came back
Summary:
A certain figure from Gendry's past comes back from unknown shores.
Chapter Text
She came back to him one rainy night. Suddenly she stood right in front of him when he walked out of the Great Hall at the end of a long night.
Arya.
A reminder of another life, another time, another path he could have taken.
Gendry had never regretted not taking that path. Not for a moment.
It felt odd to see his first love at Storm's End. Standing among the artifacts of a life he shared with another woman. Her hair was short and her frame muscular. Life at sea seemed to have made her put on a masculine exterior. But she still looked the same underneath it all.
Her eyes were the same. Serious and proud. But Gendry didn't feel the same when he looked into them.
He felt care and affection, but not romance or lust.
"Arya?" he said. "Is that you?"
"It is," she replied and walked up to him and put her hands on his shoulder.
Gently he removed her hands from his shoulders and took a step back.
"Arya... I can't," he said.
She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. It seemed like she had expected some closeness and affection.
"I'm married," he said. "I'm not... yours anymore."
"You're married..." she repeated in disbelief.
"You left. You told me to live. To find a lucky lady who would love me. And I did. You can't blame me for that."
Arya looked at him and nodded. She had said this, but perhaps she hadn't meant it. Looking deflated she sat down on one of the tables in the hall. Gendry sat down next to her.
"I don't blame you," Arya said. "You did the right thing. Who is she?"
"Meera Reed," he said. "Or Baratheon now... she keeps having to remind me of that."
Gendry smiled as he thought of his wife and how she teased him for forgetting that he had given her his family name. Sometimes he even forgot that Baratheon was his own name.
"Are you happy?" Arya asked. "You look happy."
"So very happy," he replied. "I love her of all my heart."
There was a twinge of sadness in Arya's eyes as he said that. Gendry could see it, even though she tried to hide it. She wanted him to be happy, but it still hurt seeing him happy with someone else.
"I'm sorry," he said and patted her hand lightly.
"You don't have to be sorry, Gendry," she replied. " I'm happy you have what I couldn't give you. What I could never give you. So I will leave now, I don't want to disturb your happiness."
She started to rise from the table, but he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"Don't leave," he said. "You came all this way. Stay here until the morning at least. You can meet my wife."
Upon saying that he realized that, since Meera's pregnancy was now quite apparent, maybe that wasn't the best idea. The king was Arya's brother after all. He had to talk to his wife first so they could decide together.
"If she wants to," he added.
"Of course," Arya said. "I want to meet her."
She smiled and he smiled back. He remembered what that smile used to make him feel, but he didn't feel it anymore. His heart didn't skip a beat or jump out of his chest. It only did that for Meera.
"So what are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were going west."
"I am," she said. "I've been in Essos preparing for the journey. It took me a while but now I possess a fleet of ships and sailors to man them with. I just wanted to go back here once last time before I left. I wanted to know you were doing well. And you are, so now I can leave without worry."
He looked at her for a moment, trying to recognize the girl he once knew. She wasn't quite there anymore.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Of course," she replied.
"Why are you leaving? It doesn't seem like you. You always wanted to go back to Winterfell. When we traveled together that was all you wanted. But now you're leaving to go to the end of the world instead."
"It didn't feel like home anymore. My father wasn't there. My mother wasn't there. I don't think I have a home anymore. So I can just as well go to the end of the world. It will feel just as much as home as Winterfell."
It sounded like Arya believed those words like she had talked herself into believing that. But Gendry knew her better than that.
"I don't believe you," he said and shook his head. "I saw it in your eyes when we were there. You felt like you were home. And I think that scared you. Because you felt like that little girl you were when we were on the road again. You felt vulnerable and scared. You felt like you could lose something again. I think that's what you are running away from."
"You don't know me anymore," she said quietly. "I'm not that girl anymore."
"Or maybe you're the one who doesn't know herself."
Her expression seemed slightly annoyed. "When did you get so wise?" she asked.
"I'm not he," he replied. "But I know what it's like to have a home now and what's it's like to have people that you love around you. The thought of losing that is terrifying."
Arya nodded and looked down at the floor. "I lost it already," she said. "Everything I loved is gone."
"Winterfell is still there," he said and put his hand on her shoulder. "Your sister is still there."
"I never got along with my sister."
"She's still your family. It's told that she married a Dornish prince."
"Sansa's married? I never thought she would want to marry again."
"She's the queen. Queens need heirs."
"So much has happened since I left..."
"I can tell you all about it. Tomorrow. About the king, the North, Dorne, whatever mess is going on at Highgarden. But right now I need to get some sleep. And I think you do too."
Arya yawned. "Sleep does sound good," she said. "It was a while since I slept in a bed."
Gendry got up from the table. "I'll have Marya make up one of the guest rooms for you," he said.
He stretched out his hand towards Arya to help her get down from the table. "Mylady," he said, teasingly.
Without taking his hand she jumped off the table and gave him a light kick to the shin. "Ouch," he exclaimed.
"Still not a lady," she said with a smile. "Never will be, mylord."
***
As Gendry crawled into bed with his wife he felt he needed to tell her about Arya. Two women who belonged to different chapters of his life. He had never thought they would meet. But yet here they were, in the same castle. He wasn't conflicted, his feelings were more clear than ever, but he needed his wife to know that too. So he gently nudged Meera on the shoulder to wake her.
Meera groaned a bit as she came to, seemingly not too pleased to have her slumber interrupted. "What is it?" she asked with a yawn. "Can't it wait until the morning?"
"I need to tell you something now," he said. "She's here. Arya is here."
The news seemed to make Meera slightly more awake.
"Arya?" she said with surprise. "I thought she left Westeros for good."
"I thought so too, but yet she suddenly stood there in the hall today. And I need you to know that nothing else happened."
Meera sighed and stretched out her hand towards him. She grabbed Gendry's hand and pulled him in to kiss him. "You don't need to tell me that," she said. "I trust you. I know you are faithful to me and our child. So trust me to trust you, Gendry."
"I trust you."
"Good. Can I please go back to sleep now? Carrying your child is exhausting and I need my rest."
"You may, sorry that I woke you but I didn't want to feel like I was keeping something from you."
"Is she still here?"
"Yes, I asked her to stay for the night."
"Good, I want to see her and talk to her."
"Are you sure? We can't really hide that you're... with child. The king is her brother. I didn't know if you wanted her to know."
"Do you trust her to know?"
Gendry thought for a moment. "Yes," he said. "I trust her. If we tell her to not tell her brother she won't."
"Good, then I trust her too. And I look forward to meeting her tomorrow. Maybe she can help us even."
Meera laid down again and demonstratively pulled the blanket up to her face. She wasn't the type of girl to be jealous or upset. She was the type of girl who just wanted to sleep in peace.
After having undressed, Gendry laid down in the bed next to his wife and embraced her. Her hair tickled his face. Her body warmed him instantly. Her pregnant belly bulged under his hands.
This was where he should be. There was not a shadow of a doubt in his mind. He could have taken another path. Considering what was happening around them perhaps that path would have been easier. But it wouldn't have been the right path. That path wouldn't have made him happy. Because it wouldn't have led him to Meera.
Chapter 24: I can help
Summary:
Arya volunteers to help in the fight against Dorne. But a traitor also makes his move against Gendry, setting a plan in motion to take him down.
Chapter Text
That morning Arya waited for them in the Great Hall. She stood in front of the main table. Still so small, and looking quite meek and unassuming. Gendry knew she wasn't either of those things.
He held Meera's hand in his. She didn't seem nervous, but he was. Nervous about how she and Arya would get along.
He didn't need to be. As soon as they came close Meera released his hand and walked up to Arya.
"Welcome," she said and took the other woman's hand. "I'm glad you're here. My father was loyal to your father's, and I hope we can get along too."
"I know who you are," Arya said. "You helped my brother get home safely from the North. I'm forever grateful to you for that."
"I did..." Meera said hesitantly, seemingly not quite sure how to talk about Bran with his sister. Arya didn't know yet what they knew, and they didn't know if she would understand.
When Meera stepped back Arya's gaze fell on her protruding belly.
"You're... with child?" she asked.
Meera nodded and patted the emerging bump. "Can't really hide that these days," she said. "And I apparently I can't climb trees either, according to Marya..."
"I don't think Marya said you couldn't, she said you shouldn't," Gendry said and put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Please don't take it as a challenge."
He saw Arya gaze on them as they bickered. A longing in her eyes. But also an understanding. Like she understood now what Gendry needed. It wasn't her, it was Meera.
A northerner just like herself. With unruly hair, wild eyes, and an urge to climb trees. Who carried his child. That was who he had chosen, and that's who he belonged to.
Arya turned towards Gendry. "You didn't tell me last night that you're about to be a father," she said. "Congratulations."
"No, I didn't tell you," he said with a sigh. "Because I needed to talk to Meera first. But now that you know there are some things we need to talk to you about. Regarding what is happening in this kingdom. Regarding your brother. Regarding this child. I will tell you these things because I trust you, and I know you would never do anything that could risk the life of my child."
Arya stretched out her hands towards his. "You can trust me," she said. "I promise."
"Let's sit down then," he said and took her hand. "Because this is a long story."
Gendry and Meera walked around the table to sit down. No one rolled over the table, because Devan Seaworth wasn't there. Arya took a seat opposite them.
Then they told her everything. Everything the king had done. How he let people starve. How he had tricked Lord Lannister, Lord Arryn, and Lord Redwyne at Highgarden. How he had refused to help Meera when the Freys attacked. How he had pinned the murder of Tyrion Lannister on Devan Seaworth. How he threatened their child.
Arya looked at them with wide eyes as they finished talking. "But... he's my brother," she said. "Bran is my brother."
"He's not your brother, Arya," Meera said. "Not anymore. The king might look like Bran, but he's not Bran."
"How do you know that?" Arya asked.
"Because I was there. I was in the cave with him. The cave where your brother died and something else took hold of his body."
"It can't be..." Arya mumbled. "He can't be gone too... "
Meera stretched out her hand towards Arya. She held it for a moment and looked into Arya's eyes. "Arya," she said. "Ask yourself one thing. Ask yourself if your brother would do this. Would he let people starve? Would he hurt people? Would he threaten our child?"
Arya didn't avert her eyes from Meera's, she looked straight her still. "No," she said in a low voice. "No, he wouldn't. My brother was good."
"And whatever rules this kingdom isn't good."
"So he isn't my brother."
Arya said it loud and clear now. Like everything suddenly made sense.
"And if that wasn't enough," Gendry said. "We also got Dorne to deal with. Their fleet is sailing in our waters. An attack seems imminent."
"Can't you defend yourselves?" she asked.
"The Stormlands don't have a fleet. Davos has about a dozen ships and Lord Selwyn has another two dozen. I sent those to scout the coasts. But that's all I have. Three dozen ships against a fleet of thousands."
"And you can't ask the king for help..."
"Even if I did he wouldn't help me. He won't help anyone, but especially not me."
It was quiet in the Hall for a while. They all pondered the dire situation. The sound of the wind blowing in through the drafty windows was the only thing heard. It rattled the curtains and turned the stone floors cold as ice.
"I can help," Arya suddenly said.
Gendry looked up at her. "Please don't try to talk to the king," he said. "He won't listen to reason."
"That's not what I was thinking," Arya said. "I was thinking I would help you against the Dornish forces."
"How?"
"As I told you yesterday, I have a fleet. The ships are stationed in Essos but I can sail them here and help you fight them."
"You need those ships for where you're going. When you go west."
"I won't need the ships where I'll go. I will give them to you and then leave."
"And where will you go?"
Arya smiled slightly. She rarely did these days but when she did she still looked like the young girl Gendry knew once. The girl he loved once. "I'm going home," she said. "To Winterfell. I need to talk to my sister so we can decide together how to handle Bran, or whoever the king is."
Gendry nodded. It seemed like his talk yesterday had resonated with Arya after all. "That's where you belong," he said. "Then I will accept your help."
"We'll be forever grateful to you," Meera said.
"You need the ships more than I do," Arya replied. "You need to protect yourselves and your child. That's more important than anything I would do with them."
***
That morning another meeting also took place. And another plan to save the Stormlands was made. But this plan didn't care about protecting Lord Baratheon and his child.
In a sunny clearing in the woods outside the castle two men met. A dark-haired man stepped off a horse and walked up to a man with a read beard.
"Ser Bronn," the man with the red beard said. "Did you manage to get across the border without being seen?"
"Lord Penrose," Bronn replied. "The border wasn't a problem. Only a few of Lord Baratheon's men remain there since he moved them to the southern shore. I avoided the road and rode through the woods. No one noticed a thing."
"Good, he can't know that you're here or that I sent a letter to the king."
"Lord Baratheon doesn't know. And the king is willing to take your offer for the truth you told him about the child. You have shown yourself to be loyal to the crown."
Lord Penrose nodded and looked down at the ground, kicking some pinecones around. "I'm only doing this for the Stormlands," he said. "To save them from that bitch from Dorne. I've always been loyal to House Baratheon. But the bastard lord can't save us from this."
"But the king can," Bronn said. "He's ready to help you. If you do one more thing."
Lord Penrose sighed. "What do I need to do?" he asked.
"Take him out," Bronn said. "Take out Lord Baratheon when the Dornish forces attack. Make it seem like he falls in the battle."
"And if I do that... you will give me what I want?"
Bronn nodded. "He'll send his forces to defend the Stormlands. And once the lands are safe he will make your Lord Paramount. You will rule Storm's End and these lands."
Lord Penrose returned the nod and stretched out his hand for a handshake. "Then I will do what I need to do. For the Stormlands."
***
So it was time to say goodbye again. Arya needed to get back to Essos as soon as possible to gather her fleet before the Dornish attack came.
This time was different from the last time they said goodbye because they were different people now. They still cared about each other, like only two people who had gone through the worst time in their lives together could. But they both knew and accepted that they couldn't walk down the same path in life. That they couldn't walk together. And that was fine, it wasn't a sorrow, it was just the way life was. Some paths just don't line up. Some paths cross for a little while before forking into different paths.
But goodbyes are always difficult.
They stood in the courtyard of Storm's End. Arya, Gendry, and Meera. Night was falling. A dark blue sky loomed over the raging waters below the castle. Clouds covered the moon this night. A gentle breeze blew, promising good sailing back to Essos.
Arya gave Meera an embrace first. When Meera's pregnant belly nudged against her she looked surprised and a bit frightened. But she didn't release her embrace. "I'm glad you found him," she said. "And that he found you. You're... you're who I couldn't be. You can give him what I couldn't."
"And you're who I couldn't be," Meera replied. "Wild and free forever. Unbound by love and children. But it wasn't my path. And I'm glad it wasn't. Because I want to give him everything."
"You will," Arya said and let go of her embrace. She turned towards Gendry instead.
"Take care of your wife. She is... she is too good for you really," she told him.
"She is," he said with a smile towards Meera. "Although I hope I'm worth something these days. I'm not the boy you once knew, Arya."
"And I'm not the girl you once knew. But I still care about you."
"And I care about you."
For one last time, he put his arms around her. It didn't feel the same. But it still felt right.
"You know I think the world of you, Gendry," she said with her face against his shoulder. "I always have. No matter what you're called, you will always be that boy to me. Because that boy saved me. He was my light when I needed one. You were always worth something to me. You were worth everything to me."
"And you were to me, you saved me too," he replied. "Harrenhall, everything else that happened. I wouldn't have made it through without you."
"You will be a good father, Gendry. I hope you know that. You took care of me, and you will take care of your child the same way."
"I hope so, I never had a father so I don't know how to be one."
Arya let go of him and took a step back. "I did have a father," she said. "He was the best father. And you're the only man, except for my brother Jon, who has ever got close to being the man Ned Stark was."
Then she turned around and left. Arya walked out the gate of Storm's End and once again disappeared from his life.
She would come back with her fleet. She would help him fight the Dornish forces. She would help him win the war.
But when the rescue came Gendry would already be fighting for his life. Struck down by a man he had trusted. His life bleeding out of him. Drowning in the waves of the Dornish Sea.
Chapter 25: Beyond the wall
Summary:
Devan, Jon, and Thormund venture beyond the wall. They encounter mammoths, snow, and... someone. Someone who should be dead.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Snow whirled around them and turned the world into a chaos of white. Hooves hit against the ground and trunks trumpeted the song of the mammoths.
Devan, Jon, and Tormund covered behind a rock as the horde of giant creatures passed in the valley below. Ghost stood atop the rock, probably pondering if he could take one of the animals down and eat for dinner.
Never before had Devan seen animals of such size. The back of the animal looked to be the height of the walls that surrounded Storm's End. From the back hung tufts of thick grey wool that resembled dried grass. Long twirly tusks that looked terrifyingly sharp adorned the mammoths' faces.
"They look small, poor things," Tormund said, seemingly unfazed by the animals. "They haven't been able to eat properly, that's why they're migrating North."
Devan looked at the wildling with astonishment in his eyes. "Those are small to you?" he asked.
"I've seen mammoths twice that size," Tormund said with a shrug.
"Why are they going North to find food, shouldn't it be more to eat down South where it's warmer?"
"They like to eat frost moss and that only grows where it's cold."
"This isn't cold enough? It's certainly cold enough for me!"
Devan pulled his hands through his messy hair that reach down to his shoulders now. His mother would not approve of his current hairstyle. His hair was matted from wearing a hat constantly to protect him against the cold, but he had taken it off while they rested behind the boulder.
"Well, you're not a mammoth, little seabird," Tormund replied. "Are you? You can't even grow a proper beard."
It was true. While Jon looked like an experienced warrior with his scruffy dark beard, and Tormund looked like, well a wildling with his unruly red beard, Devan still just looked like a boy with his blonde patchy facial hair. He envied them.
"I'm not a mammoth, but I'm not a seabird either!" he protested. "And I'm not little! I'm much taller than Jon!"
Jon looked at them with an exasperated look. "Can you two never shut up?" he snapped. "I'm starting to wish that the mammoths change course and trample us just so I won't have to hear you two anymore. We've been traveling for weeks and there hasn't been a moment of quiet."
"Mammoths wouldn't trample humans," Tormund said, ignoring Jon's complaints."They're smart creatures. That's why we ride them."
"Wildings ride mammoths?" Devan asked in astonishment. "How would you even get up on one of those things?"
Jon looked like he was ready to throw himself in front of the mammoths so he wouldn't have to hear any more musings from his travel companions.
"You get a giant to lift you up on the mammoth," Tormund replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's very easy really. Although I guess all the giants are all gone now. Maybe a huge boulder would do though."
"YOU KNEW GIANTS?"
The conversation continued onto the giant who had once nursed Tormund back to health. And plenty of other anecdotes about giants, their diet, and their mating habits. Jon rolled his eyes even more. And the mammoths kept trampling the ground of the valley in front of them.
On the other side of the valley was the cave where they were headed. The cave where Bran Stark had died. As soon as the mammoth stampede was over they would go there. And find whatever there was to find.
***
It was early morning when they finally got to the other side of the valley. They had walked through the night to get to their destination. The nights were as bright as the days anyway since the sun never set in the North this time of year. A burning orange globe against a pale blue sky hung over them even at this early hour.
They found Summer first.
Ghost ran in front of them as they made their way up the frozen valley side and a bone-chilling howl was suddenly heard.
When the men made it to the body the white wolf was nudging his sibling with his nose, seemingly trying to make it stand up. To no avail of course.
"The body is still intact," Devan said in a surprised tone as he kneeled by the direwolf. "It was more than a year ago since it died."
"Bodies don't decompose up here," Tormund said and crouched down as well. "What falls in the north remains where it fell, unless something eats it. But I don't think animals wander this area, it's... cursed."
"Bodies don't decompose here, but they used to raise again," Jon said, refusing to bend down as he probably enjoyed for once not being towered over by Tormund and Devan. "So why didn't this one? Animals were turned by the walkers too."
"It's this area," Tormund said. "They don't go here. No one goes here."
He stood up and looked around. In the distance, a high tree with long white branches adorned with red leaves loomed on a hill.
Nothing should grow up here. But yet something did.
"Is that where we're going?" Devan asked.
Tormund nodded. "The elders tell stories about that tree," he said with a tone of reverence. "They say it's been here since these lands were filled with grass and sunshine."
Jon tried to convince Ghost to leave Summer with some gentle pets and encouraging words. The wolf gave off one last whimper before finally agreeing to come along. And they all trudged forward towards the tree.
Next, they found Hodor.
His body was crushed by the door he had held. The door he had held for almost all his life.
Jon bent down and carefully closed the man's eyes. "You were a good man," he said. "You were always loyal to House Stark. Until the end."
"Can we bury him?" Devan asked.
"There's no way to dig here, boy," Tormund said. "The ground is frozen to the core. But if we can make a fire we can perhaps burn the bodies."
"We'll arrange that tonight," Jon said. "It doesn't seem right for him to lay here forever."
But right now they needed to get to that tree. As they got close they realized how huge it was. Not like regular weirwoods. The trunk was the size of a small cottage and the top reached higher than the tower of Storm's End. Among the branches sat crows, thousands of them. Their caws filled the silence with a never-ending melody of loneliness and pain.
They walked through a winding path around the tree's roots until they finally stood right in front of it.
There they found... someone else.
A boy, probably a few years younger than Devan, with blonde hair. He sat by the foot of the trunk. Or perhaps he was the foot of the trunk because his body appeared to be part of the tree itself. His upper body was encased by white bark and his arms were wrapped with vines.
He appeared dead at first. But as they got close he opened his eyes.
They were bright red. Just like the leaves of the weirwood tree.
Devan gasped and took a step backward. The boy didn't look human. He was something else.
"Who are you?" Jon asked.
The boy looked at them one by one before answering. He looked at them like he knew them.
"I'm Jojen Reed," he said. "Or at least I used to be. I've been waiting for you."
Notes:
This twist surprised even me when I wrote it... so I'm very curious about the reactions to this one.
I'm aware that Jojen's body is said to have been destroyed by the children of the first. My explanation for this is that they lied. So instead of destroying the body, they teleported it down to the roots of the trees, where it was kept as a backup plan in case something went wrong with Bran. It's not perfect but I think this twist works well for this story (basically Jojen is the one who has been sending dreams to Meera, telling her how to fight the entity they set loose into the world).
Chapter 26: Flying too high
Summary:
Jojen gets talkative and drops a lot of intel on Bran. Devan and Jon argues on what is the best cause of action.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Meera woke up in cold sweats again from a dream. As she twisted and turned she accidentally smacked her husband in the face with her elbow.
"Ouch," he said sleepily. "What is happening?"
"I had a dream again," his wife replied while her hands went to her belly to make sure her child was safe. There was a slight flutter inside of her. She had never felt that before. It was like her child was trying to tell her something.
Gendry leaned over with a concerned look. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Is something wrong with the child?"
"I'm fine," she said and reached up to kiss him. "And the child is fine too. I think it's moving."
She took his hand and moved it to the spot on her belly where she sensed the fluttering. "Can you feel that?" she asked.
His rough blacksmith hand rested gently on the round bump, waiting for a sign. Gendry looked unsure at first but then his expression changed at the same time as Meera felt another fluttering sensation. "It's actually in there," he said with an expression of amazement on his face.
"The dream must have woke the child up too," she said.
"Was it the same dream?"
"No, this one was different. Jojen was still there, but he wasn't alone. Devan was with him."
"Devan? Do you think that means something? Hopefully, he's doing all right."
"I don't know. But I think Jon Snow was there too. Although I only met him once, when he came to the swamp and tried to kill a baby crocodile."
"Jon and Devan are both by the wall. Maybe the dream is trying to tell you something about them."
"There was also a third man there... But I didn't recognize him. He was tall, with a bushy red beard and dressed all in fur."
Her husband gave her a weird look. "Tormund," he said. "I fought next to him against the dead. He's a wildling, but he's a good man. After the war, he went back beyond the wall, but he might be with Jon now."
"I don't know him, so how could I see him?"
"I don't know..."
"It must mean something. But I don't know what."
She laid back down and thought of her dream. Both her and her husband's hands still rested on her belly, feeling the bubbling movements of their child.
Somehow she felt the presence of Jojen more intensely than ever. It was like he had actually been there in the dream. Like she could have reached out and touched him.
***
Devan stretched out his hand toward the boy's shoulder to assure himself that he was real, and not an apparition. The skin felt rough and hard, like bark, but Jojen definitely was there and he gave Devan an odd look as he kept poking and prodding.
"What are you doing, boy?" Tormund asked. "Don't touch him. He might be cursed."
Quickly Devan pulled his hand back. His curiosity had got ahead of his caution. That happened quite often to Devan.
That's probably why he had fathered a bastard child.
"I'm not cursed," the boy said and looked over at Devan. The red eyes didn't make the statement sound convincing.
"That's exactly what someone who's cursed would say!" Tormund exclaimed and took a step backward.
Devan tried to retreat too but fell over a root in his hurry. His ankle twisted in a painful way as he tumbled on the ground. With a whimper, he sat down.
"Can you two morons try to control yourselves?" Jon said with a sigh and crouched down in front of Jojen.
Devan and Tormund for once became silent.
"Your sister said you died, so how are you alive?" he asked the boy.
"I did die," Jojen said. "Just like you did, Jon Snow."
Devan looked at Jon in confusion, he had not heard about this incident. "You died?" he asked. Jon looked down at the ground and ignored Devan's question.
"How do you know that?" Jon growled at Jojen.
"I know a lot of things," the boy answered. "And you know nothing, Jon Snow."
As he heard those words Jon finally looked up. In his eyes was bewilderment, like the words had shaken him to the core.
"I know who told you that," Jojen continued, his red eyes focused on an invisible spot in the distance. "And I know that the red woman brought you back to life."
"And who brought you back?" Jon asked.
"The tree brought me back. When I died the children of the forest told my sister that my body was destroyed so that I wouldn't walk again. But it was actually transported down to the roots of the tree. The tree keeps things safe from turning, that's why none of the creatures who died in this area has been turned. And it kept me safe too. Because the tree needed me if things went wrong..."
"If what went wrong?"
"Bran. Bran went wrong. He flew too high and he turned to anger."
Jon looked down again, covering his head in his hands for a moment. The information seemed hard for him to comprehend. "Bran is my brother," he said. "What do you mean? How did he go wrong?"
"The old gods are good," Jojen said. "They aim to protect this world and everything that lives in it. And that's why they're angry. Because humans are ruining it. They've killed the giants, the children of the forests, and countless other things that used to live here. The three-eyed raven's purpose is to help this world restore itself. But Bran wanted to fly. He wanted to know everything at once. He stayed in his dreams for too long and he fell to the darkness."
"The darkness? What do you mean?"
"The darkness is the knowledge of what the best solution is to save this world. It's to end humanity. That's how the rest of the world can thrive."
"And the army of the dead? How do they play into this?"
"They're a manifestation of the darkness. Bran became part of them. He became the darkness. And they were coming to Winterfell to join him. The combination of their strength and his powers would have been unstoppable. Humanity wouldn't have stood a chance. Now he's left on his own to complete their mission of ending humanity. Or letting humanity end itself rather. He's setting up all the pieces for that to happen."
Devan nodded. It all made sense with what he had seen in the capital. The king wasn't a human. He was pure darkness and destruction.
"But you don't want that?" he asked Jojen.
"I don't. I speak for the tree and the tree still has hope. It still thinks that both humanity and the rest of the world can be saved. It still thinks that humans can be good."
"So what are you exactly? Are you alive?" Tormund asked. He still didn't seem convinced that Jojen wasn't some kind of cursed ghost.
"I'm part of the tree," Jojen said like that was an obvious answer. "So I guess I am alive. As alive as the tree is at least. My greenseer ability made me suitable for the task of speaking for the tree since I will be able to hear it. But my injuries were too severe for me to be fully reanimated. I can't leave this place. So I had to wait for you to come to me so I could tell you what the tree wants you to know."
"So do you have the same abilities as Bran?" Jon asked.
"No, only the Three-eyed Raven has abilities to see the past and the future, "Jojen replied. "But the tree shares its knowledge with me through dreams. Sometimes people who have died appear in them and tells me things. And I can reach my sister Meera through the trees and share my dreams with her since she has a bit of the same ability I had. She's the only one Bran can't reach so that's why I only communicate with her."
"Why can't he get to her?" Devan asked, still cradling his hurt ankle. "Meera suspected he couldn't but she didn't know why."
"Because Bran loves her;" Jojen replied. "When the darkness took over his mind Bran protected his love for her. She's the only part of him that's light. That's why he can't see her, no matter how deep he looks. But the more he tries the more he gives in to the darkness."
"So was it you who told her to bring weirwood branches with her to Storm's End. I saw her pick them after she had her vision when we were in the swamp."
"Yes, that was me. Meera will need weirwood to defeat the darkness. And wherever there are weirwoods I can talk to her. Although I can share my dreams with her now even when she's not touching the tree since the child she carries also has some of the same ability she has."
"Meera's with child?" Devan asked. "I guess my child will have a playmate then..."
Jojen nodded. "She's carrying the child that Bran wants to prevent from being born. The child who will rule us all and bring peace into the realm."
"The child will be king?" Jon asked.
"Not a king, but a queen," Jojen replied. "A wise and strong queen. The last queen."
Jojen closed his red eyes. His breath was suddenly labored. "You need to protect her," he said. "You need to march down to the capital with as many men as possible."
"What will happen there?" Jon asked.
Jojen's head hung towards his chest now. "You'll know once you get there," he wheezed. "That's all I have to tell you. My body is too broken to talk any longer. Whatever else I'II find out I will tell Meera in her dreams."
Then he became quiet. Eerily quiet.
Jon stretched out his hand and touched the boy's chest. "He's still breathing," he said. "He's still alive. Or whatever he is..."
"Should we wait until he wakes up to tell us more?" Devan asked.
"He said he didn't have more to tell us," Jon said.
"We can make camp here for the night," Tormund said. "To see if he wakes up. In the meantime, we can burn the bodies. Tomorrow we'll leave and go back."
"I can't walk far on this ankle," Devan said as he tried to put weight on his leg.
"There's a wildling village not long from here," Tormund said. "If we can make our way there we can find some transportation back to the wall from there. Perhaps a mammoth for you, seabird."
Tormund decided to go look for some firewood and left Devan and Jon by the tree, pondering over whatever they had just been told. Devan looked over Jon, who sat staring into nothing.
"Do you believe what he told us?" Devan asked.
"I don't know," Jon said. "I don't know what to believe."
"Jojen knew things he shouldn't know:"
"So did Bran. How do I know that Jojen isn't the imposter?"
"I guess we can't know, Jon. But I trust Meera, so I trust Jojen. I know she saw things in her dreams. That must have been her brother sending messages to her."
"I know you trust Meera, Devan. But I don't know her. I only met her once. She tried to feed me to a crocodile. Why would I believe her, or Jojen, over my own brother?
"Because the king's not your brother. Your brother is gone, Jon."
Jon looked over at Devan and shook his head. In his eyes were anger and sadness.
"You keep saying that," he snapped. "But I can't accept it. I've lost two brothers already. Do you know what it's like to lose a brother, Devan?"
Devan got up from the ground, limping slightly on his injured ankle. "Yes," he said, no hint of joking or sarcasm to his voice. "I do know what it's like to lose a brother. You're not the only one who lost someone in the war, Jon. But I rather admit that my brother is dead than tell myself stories to avoid the truth."
He turned around and limped after Tormund. Jon was left with his thoughts by the tree. "Sorry," he mumbled as Devan left.
***
That night smoke loomed around the giant weirwood tree. Smoke from pyres burning the dead left behind long ago. Finally, they would get to rest.
Jojen rested too. But he still breathed. He still lived. Or whatever his existence could be called.
And that night Meera saw smoke in her dreams.
Notes:
I hope I didn't completely butcher the lore of the shows and books with this chapter...
Chapter 27: We'll protect her
Summary:
Meera thinks being pregnant sucks. She has another dream and comes to a realization.
Notes:
There are some mentions in this chapter about Robin Arryn and Tyrek Lannister and what is happening to them. These events are detailed in another story that I haven't put up here yet, since it's not finished (it's being published on Wattpad currently). But since Robin and Tyrek will play a part in this story eventually the events still need to be brought up in this story. (Basically the boys hooked up with each other, got caught, and are being put on trial by the faith militant, that Horas Redwyne has rallied the remains of, for their crimes)
Chapter Text
It took a lot of effort for Meera to remain awake during the council meeting. The child she carried had kept her up most of the night. Either it seemed to kick her bladder or it lodged itself right under her ribs. There was no way for her to get comfortable in bed anymore. She had collected all the pillows, leaving her husband without, and put them around herself for support, but it didn't help much. Her husband had snored away, Gendry was used to sleeping without pillows anyway, but Meera had remained awake.
She pinched herself in the leg to prevent herself from falling asleep, while her husband talked about important matters with his gathered advisors. Davos, Stannis, and Lord Penrose were all gathered around the table.
Gendry held a letter from Horas Redwyne, the lord of Highgarden. Whatever was happening there was a mess, and it only seemed to get worse.
"He demands that his newborn nephew, Paxter Arryn, should be recognized as the Lord of the Eyrie by all the Lord Paramounts," Gendry explained. "And that his brother's wife, born Janei Lannister, should be recognized as the rightful holder of Casterly Rock."
"But Lord Arryn and Lord Lannister are still alive, aren't they?" Davos asked.
"I believe so," Gendry said. "But he has them imprisoned for their crimes, awaiting a trial."
"I did hear the rumors of what was going on between them," Davos said. "Devan told me after he talked to Tyrion. But surely that should be a personal matter, not a matter of politics."
"I agree. But Horas seem to have gone completely mad... he's involved the remaining factions of the faith militant."
"Surely his mother can't agree with that. Mina Redwyne is born a Tyrell, and the faith militant was the end of their house. I can't believe that the lords of the Reach stand behind him either, they were loyal to the Tyrells."
"I don't think they do..." Gendry said and held up another letter. "Because I received this from Hobber Redwyne, Horas' brother who he used to rule together with but deposed. Hobber writes that he has the majority of the houses in the region behind him and that they will try to take Horas down. He just needs some time to convince his sister Desmera, who is not too pleased with her husband Robin after everything that went down, to stand on his side. So according to Hobber, I should ignore whatever Horas demands."
"So the twin brothers stand against each other."
"And I stand behind Hobber. Because I need Robin and Tyrek alive. I need them to rule their kingdoms. And Hobber has promised to free them."
Meera blinked to keep awake. She wanted to know about what was going on in the Reach, but her body badly wanted to sleep. Her head felt fuzzy and the noise around her became muffled.
And suddenly she wasn't in the Great Hall of Storm's End anymore. She was in a dark forest illuminated by moonlight. Surrounded by white trees that shone as brightly as the moon. The leaves on the branches were bloodred.
Jojen was there. Next to him stood a young girl Meera didn't recognize. Her face and hands were covered with scaly scars.
They stood on opposite sides of a crib from which the scream of a child rose.
It was her child. Meera knew that instinctively. The child in her belly who kept her awake all night. She wanted to walk up and peak into the crib, but she couldn't move.
"We'll protect her," Jojen said. "Let us protect her. Me and her together."
The girl bent down to calm the child and the screaming stopped.
A shake on her shoulder made the forest disappear. The hall around her appeared again and so did the people in it. Meera looked up to see her husband crouching next to her with a worried look on his face. "You fell asleep," he said and patted her leg. "And you screamed."
"I had a dream of Jojen again," she said and put her hand on his. "This time a young girl was there, with scales on her skin. I've never seen her before."
Davos, who stood behind Gendry, suddenly froze in place. "Scales?" he said. "Like a dragon?"
Meera nodded. "I think so," she said. "She was not much older than Steffon and she had blonde hair."
"Shireen..." Davos said, seemingly stuck in memories from a time long gone. Memories of a little girl who didn't get to grow up. "She was Stannis Baratheon's daughter. She was good. But he burned her."
"She looked kind," Meera replied. "Jojen said that they will protect her together."
"Her... so he says it's girl," Gendry said. "That we'll have a daughter."
Gendry looked ecstatically happy about the thought of a daughter. Although Meera knew he would be just as happy for a son.
"A girl is good," Davos said. "My wife always wanted a girl. Less trouble."
Meera wasn't sure her own father would agree on that. She had always caused Howland far more trouble than Jojen.
"A girl is not a proper heir though," Lord Penrose said. "House Baratheon needs an heir to live."
"I can make a daughter my heir, just as well as a son," Gendry replied. "I see no reason why a woman wouldn't be able to rule as well as a man, or even better. My wife certainly can. And I've met plenty of other women who would make far better rulers than any man."
"If we can't stop the Dornish forces you won't have anything to give an heir anyway," Lord Penrose said. "An attack is imminent and you don't have the resources to defend the Stormlands. So can we focus on that instead of your wife's dreams, Lord Baratheon?"
"Arya will help me, I've told you so," Gendry replied.
"And I've told you that I will believe that when I see it. But we can't rely on some imaginary forces from Essos for our defense. And why would the king's sister help us when you've made an enemy of the king?"
"I trust Arya."
"Because you fucked her? You can't make decisions based on such matters."
Lord Penrose threw a glance at Meera, probably anticipating a reaction from her. Meera just glared back at him.
"Because Arya's my friend," Gendry said.
Lord Penrose shook his head but didn't say anything further.
"Let's recess for a bit," Davos said, "So Lady Baratheon can rest and you two can calm yourselves down before we ride out this afternoon to inspect the troops stationed outside the castle."
As the other men left the room Gendry stretched out his hand to help Meera get up.
"Will you go rest for a bit now?" he asked once she was standing. "I will be away all afternoon anyway and you seem tired. I noticed you didn't sleep much last night.."
Meera shook her head. Just laying on her bed all afternoon sounded dreadfully dull, no matter how tired she was. "I told Brynda I would visit her later," she said. "And then I promised Steffon to help him practice shooting his bow and arrow."
"Just be careful," her husband said with a concerned look.
"I will. I promise," she said and leaned over her belly to kiss him.
***
Meera stopped to rest on the landing between the stairs. Walking stairs was a struggle for her these days. Her hips hurt and her belly weighed her down for every step. Meera wondered how she would be able to traverse stairs later on if it was this difficult now. According to Marya, there were about three months left until the child would be born.
Three months. Then she would have a child in her arms. It was hard to comprehend.
She tried not to think of birth, because it scared her. And not a lot of things scared Meera Reed.
Brynda and Stannis occupied a whole floor of the tower, complete with a big bedroom, a study, and a nursery. Stannis had been given the official role of scribe to the lord, which warranted their comfortable living quarters. Marya, Davos, and Steffon also had a floor to themselves since Davos had taken over Ser Swann's role as military advisor to the lord.
Once Meera finally made it up the stairs she entered the bedroom and immediately threw herself on the bed. Brynda gave her a weird look from where she sat by the window.
"Sorry," Meera said as she tried to catch her breath. "I guess it's not proper for me to lay on your bed."
Actually, she didn't really really care what was proper. She was pregnant and needed to lay down. Proper etiquette could go screw itself.
"I don't sleep on that side anyway," Brynda replied.
"But your husband..."
Brynda chuckled. Like the thought of sharing a bed with her husband was preposterous.
"Stannis doesn't sleep in here," she said. "He sleeps in his study, I think. Or perhaps in Bastian's room."
Of course, the reason for their marriage was well-known in the castle, but Meera was still surprised Brynda spoke about it so frankly.
Brynda went over to the bed to lay down next to Meera on the bed.
Meera looked down towards both their pregnant bellies. There was an obvious difference in size. There was a slight bulge under Brynda's dress, barely visible when she stood up if the dress fell the right way, about the size of a small melon. While Meera's belly seemed to be about the size of a pumpkin. And not a small pumpkin either, a large pumpkin that could feed a whole family. At least that's what it felt like. There was no way for her to hide her condition. No matter how her dress fell.
Yes, Meera wore a dress. Because she had to wear something and her pants didn't fit anymore. Neither did her husband's pants. She had tried. So reluctantly she had resorted to dresses. Only simple and loose-fitting ones though. The one she currently wore was in green linen with pleats in the front to make room for the giant pumpkin.
"Why are you so much smaller than me?" she asked. "You should be further along... "
"Because I'm taller probably," Brynda replied. "More room for the child to grow. Although I'm glad I'm not showing that much yet since that makes it easier to pretend the child is Stannis'. We'll just have to pretend it's born early."
Brynda's words trailed off a bit. Like she got lost in her own thoughts. Meera knew who her friend was thinking about.
"You haven't seen him again?" Brynda asked.
Brynda never spoke much of Devan, but her more reserved demeanor lately made it clear that she missed him. They all miss him, of course. The castle wasn't the same without Devan's exuberant presence.
Meera shook her head and patted Brynda's hand lightly. "No," she said. "Not since that one dream."
"Hopefully he's safe up North."
"I hope so too. You know I'll tell you if I see him again. Even if I don't know what it means."
Meera wished she knew what her dreams meant. She wished she could assure Brynda somehow that Devan was safe, but she didn't know if anything of what she saw was real. And she didn't want to give her friend false hope.
***
The breezy forest air welcomed Meera and made her feel at home. After her visit with Brynda, she had taken Steffon with her to the woods. Shooting her bow was difficult as her belly was in the way, but she liked being outside and she could still instruct Steffon.
She sat on a rock and watched as Steffon practiced shooting. Birds chimed and squirrels chattered around her. The smell of pine was in the air.
Out here she felt free. Of course, Meera was happy about the child she carried and she couldn't wait to meet whoever was in there. But that didn't mean she enjoyed the process of carrying it.
She had always been wild and free. She had always been fast and agile. She had always been independent. But she wasn't any of those things right now. She wasn't herself.
The sound of an arrow getting stuck in wood interrupted her thoughts. Steffon had accidentally aimed way too high and an arrow had lodged itself several meters up in a tree.
"I'll get that, Lady Baratheon," the boy said. Meera had taught him to always bring all arrows back home if possible.
"No, let me get it," she replied.
Steffon gave her a skeptical look but didn't protest. Marya had raised him not to oppose lords and ladies after all.
Meera made her way to the tree where the escaped arrow was stuck. Steffon followed her, still looking like he didn't think this was a good idea.
He was probably right, but she didn't care.
"But you're..." he started.
"With child? Yeah, I've noticed that too," she replied. "But that doesn't mean I'm crippled. I can still do stuff."
"But my mother has told you to not climb trees."
"Well do you always listen to your mother?"
The boy nodded. Even if he didn't always listen to Marya he wouldn't dare to admit it, since he feared Meera would tell his mother about his offenses.
"Well, she's not my mother," Meera said and put her hand on the first branch. "So I don't have to listen to her."
Climbing a tree while pregnant turned out to be harder than she had expected. The damn pumpkin prevented Meera from getting close to the trunk, so she had to turn sideways and try to climb with her hip against the trunk instead.
It wasn't easy. But Meera figured it out. And for a few moments, she felt like herself again. Although she also felt exhausted.
Finally, she stretched out her arm and pulled the arrow out from the trunk. The tree swayed slightly in the wind and the breeze rustled her curls. She felt triumphant. Even if she knew Marya would yell at her later.
With the arrow in her hand, she carefully climbed down. Not being able to see her feet made the task difficult. Branch by branch she descended the tree. Steffon looked relieved when Meera finally stood on the ground next to him and tried to catch her breath. She definitely got winded more easily these days.
"Let's go home to the castle, Steffon," she said and put her arm on the boy's shoulder. "I think I need some rest now."
***
When her husband came back home Meera actually laid on the bed in their room. Once again she had propped up all the pillow around her, and she had also put a few under her feet.
Gendry climbed up next to his wife and kissed her cheek.
"I'm glad you decided to rest after all," he said.
"I did go to see Brynda and go to the woods first though," she replied.
"I figured you would. If you've decided you will do something there's usually no way to stop you."
"I climbed a tree."
"Of course you did."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Gendry knew better than to try to tell Meera what she should or shouldn't do.
"My ankles and hips hurt," she said as she tried to rearrange herself to get comfortable, to no avail.
"Just tell me if there's anything I can do," he said and took her hand.
A movement in her belly made her whole body jolt. Her hand flew to the spot to feel it.
"She's moving again," Meera said.
Her husband's hand went to her belly as well. "She... so you believe what Jojen said in the dream?"
Meera nodded. "There has to be a purpose of the dreams," she said. "They feel so real. I believe Jojen is actually speaking to me somehow."
"If you believe that, then I will believe so as well," Gendry replied. "I'll believe that we'll have a daughter soon."
Meera had thought of the dream and what it could mean all day. A realization dawned on her.
"Joreen..." she mumbled.
"What?"
"Joreen. That's her name. Jojen and Shireen together. That's what he meant."
Gendry nodded and squeezed her hand. "Joreen," he said. "It's a pretty name. And they both deserve to be honored."
"Joreen," Meera repeated. "Our daughter."
She felt another movement under her hand. It was as if the child knew they were talking about her. Or the child was just tossing and turning because she, just like her mother, had trouble being still.
Joreen Baratheon would be her name. She would be as strong as her mother and as caring as her father.
Chapter 28: Go to her
Summary:
It's a Howland Reed chapter! Howland reminisces about his children and receives a message from one of them...
Chapter Text
The fog was thick over the water as the sun rose over the swamp and wrapped the whole place in a yellow mist. It made Howland think of good memories, but also bad ones. A bittersweet mixture of everything that had been and never would be again.
Early mornings were his favorite time of the day. When animals were awake, but people weren't. Birds chirped in the treetops, fishes splashed below the surface, and cicadas buzzed in the high grass.
A sudden splash made him look over.
A couple of young crocodiles slid down a slippery log beside the dock. It almost looked like they were playing. It reminded him of a game his children used to engage in, where they carved boats out of bark and raced them against each other. He could still hear the echoes of their voices reverberating between the trees.
Laughter.
Splashes.
Screams.
His daughter throwing a tantrum and running off because her brother wouldn't play by her rules.
Howland had found her later, deep in the swamp, playing with a group of small crocodiles. Racing them against each other, just like the boats. Apparently, the crocodiles obeyed her rules better than her brother.
The swamp was so empty and quiet now. Ser Swann, who together with about a thousand Baratheon men was left behind to help Howland defend his borders, was excellent company, and they shared a bed most nights. But still, Howland felt lonely. Because his children weren't there. His son was dead, and his daughter was far away.
It's the lot of most parents to say goodbye to their children. To see them leave to walk their own paths, and live their own lives. And he was glad Meera got to do that. His son never got that opportunity. But he still missed his daughter.
He missed her company. He missed her determination. He missed her dedication. She loved this place even more than he did, and he had always thought he would leave it to her when he died. That he would be able to go to his grave knowing he left their home in her capable hands.
Now it seemed like Howland Reed would have to live a long life, longer than most men in Westeros, and rule a long time.
His own parents had died of a pox when Howland was only twelve years old. And from that day he had been the Lord of the Neck.
He had been too young for the task. And he didn't want to curse his own children or grandchildren in the same way. So he would have to hold on to life for them.
His thoughts were disrupted by a nudge on his elbow. Harsh leathery skin and sharp teeth rubbed against him.
"Lily! Stop that!" he exclaimed and shooed the crocodile away.
The crocodile backed off at his sudden outburst and moved back to behind her owner's legs. Hiding with her tail between her legs. His mother-in-law Meera seemed to be out on her usual morning stroll with the crocodile kept on a leash.
"Howland," she said disparagingly. "You know she just wants to play."
"Well, I'm not in the mood to play" he sighed and looked out over the foggy swamp.
His mother-in-law bent down and petted her frightened crocodile to calm her down, Howland could hear Lily growl slightly at him.
"The fog," she said. "It looks the same as it did that morning."
He nodded. "I know," he said.
His mother-in-law walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Jyana always loved early mornings," she said.
Howland didn't reply. He just looked at the thick yellow mist filling the canals in front of him.
It looked the same as on the morning when his son drew his first breath. And his wife drew her last.
***
Jojen Reed knew he shouldn't. But he had to. He had to get a message to his father.
He had done it once before. To tell his father that his sister and her husband were coming to help. But it was too risky now.
Because he wasn't alone in the vast network of weirwood trees. Bran was in there as well. And whatever he did Bran could see. Whatever message he conveyed Bran would decipher.
Unless he sent them to Meera. She was the only one he could safely communicate with. Messages sent to her became invisible to Bran.
Through the trees, Jojen had seen her grow up and do all the things he would never get to do. He had seen her fall in love, he had seen her get married, and he had seen that she carried a child. Meera wanted to tell their father about her child, Jojen knew that, but she couldn't contact him because of the threat from the king.
But maybe Jojen could. He just had to find a safe way. And first, he had to go home.
Jojen traveled rapidly through his dreams. Forests and mountains became a blur around him. And then he was there, inside the heart tree of the Neck. He wouldn't stay long, because then Bran could find him. But hopefully, he could stay long enough to send his message.
The whole tree rustled as he tried to conjure up a way to communicate with his father. Red leaves flew from the branches and created a pattern on the water below. Soon the leaves floated like little boats on the smooth surface.
Like the bark boats he used to play with together with his sister.
And then Jojen knew what to do. He knew how to send his message.
***
The sun had risen in the swamp and the yellow fog had lifted. Humans, as well as animals, were awake at this hour.
Howland ate breakfast in the Great Hall, together with Ser Swann, when he heard a sound. Wind rustling through leaves. Plates with fried duck eggs and rye bread went flying as Howland jumped from his seat.
Ser Swann looked up in surprise as Howland ran through the room "Where are you going, Howland?" he asked.
"The tree," Howland answered from the doorway. "Something is happening in the godswood. I can hear it."
"I haven't even finished my breakfast. Can't it wait?"
Howland shook his head. "The weirwoods can never wait, Balon," he said. "That's what my late wife always said. If the trees call for you, then you answer."
Ser Swann couldn't protest so he reluctantly left his breakfast behind, although he first made sure to tell the servants to keep it warm for him, and followed Howland.
The water-filled floor of the godswood was filled with red leaves. Howland looked at if for a moment and tried to make sense of why they had fallen. The pattern looked almost deliberate.
He stepped up to the trunk of the tree. To the spot where his son used to sit. He walked carefully to not disrupt the floating leaves. And there he saw it. The message.
GO TO HER
The leaves spelled the words out. And Howland knew what it meant.
Ser Swann walked up beside him and looked at the leaves in awe. He saw it too. Which was good, since that meant it wasn't just a mind trick or an apparition.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
"That I should go to my daughter," Howland said. "My son tells me so."
He could feel it in the air. Jojen was there. The sensation of it was so strong that he had to sit down by the trunk of the tree as his knees buckled. When his back touched the tree an image flashed before his eyes for just a moment. His son. Not the young son that had left him but an older boy, almost a man. Tall and strong.
Like Jojen would have looked if he was still alive.
Howland felt a hand on his shoulder and looked over at Ser Swann who had sat down next to him. There was no need for explanations or discussions.
"I'll stay here," Ser Swann said decisively. "To make sure your lands are taken care of and defended while you're away."
Howland patted his companion's knee. "Thank you," he said. "I knew you would understand."
They stayed under that tree for a few more moments. For as long as Howland could feel Jojen's presence. Then they went and finished their breakfast.
And later that day Howland left for the Stormlands. Not since Robert's Rebellion had he ventured that far from his Stormlands. Once again he did it for a Baratheon. This time his daughter Meera Baratheon.
She would come to need him.
Chapter 29: I might die
Summary:
Gendry and Meera talk about what is ahead of them.
Chapter Text
The mood in the Great Hall of Storm's End was gloomy as Stannis read a report from the Seaworth ships Gendry had sent to scout the port in Sunspear.
"The report tells that several hundred warships lay in wait in the harbor," he read. "The ships are currently being armed but the work appears to be finished soon. And then-"
"Then they will attack," Gendry sighed and put his head in his hands.
This threat would have to be faced soon. There was no escape, and maybe no way to win.
"When will Arya be here with her ships?" Davos asked.
"I don't know," Gendry replied. "As soon as possible was what she said. Hopefully, that is soon enough."
"And if it's not?" Lord Penrose asked. "What do we do then? You need to have another plan."
"Then we fight," Gendry said. "We fight them when they land on the coast. I might not have a fleet but I do have good soldiers. Hopefully, we can at least hold them off until Arya arrives."
"Will you even fight with us?" Lord Penrose asked. "Your wife is about to give birth very soon."
"If my men fight, I fight," Gendry replied without hesitation. "There's no other option."
"The words of a true Baratheon," Davos said. "A Baratheon never backs away from a fight."
***
Gendry couldn't find Meera anywhere. He had not seen her since that morning before he went off to attend the meeting regarding the Dorne situation.
She wasn't in their room, in any of the surrounding rooms, or in the courtyard.
In the courtyard, Gendry did find Steffon Seaworth though. Dutifully helping his mother dispense food to the gathered troops. Because of the current threats, they kept part of the army inside the castle so they could defend themselves against an unexpected attack.
"Have you seen my wife anywhere, Steffon?" he asked.
"No..." the boy said without looking at Gendry or Marya who stood next to him.
"Steffon... please tell me where she is."
The boy pointed out the gate. Gendry sighed. Of course, his very pregnant wife had gone for a stroll in the woods alone. Which Marya had told her not to do.
Marya should really stop telling Meera not to do stuff.
***
From where Meera sat under a tree she could see the sun setting over the ocean. Sunsets looked so different here than in the swamp. Blue and pink rather than purple and orange. Both beautiful, just different.
She smiled at her husband as he walked up. As handsome as ever.
"I looked for you," he said.
"I knew you would find me," she said.
"It's getting late," he said and stretched out his hand towards her. "We should get back to the castle. I'll help you up."
She shook her head. "Stay with me here for a moment," she replied. "Just until the sun has set."
Gendry retracted his hand and instead sat down next to his wife. He looked like he needed to relax for a moment. She knew the threats were getting to him.
"Dorne could attack any day now," he said with a sigh. "We got a report from our scouts."
"If they attack you have to fight," she said and took his hand and squeezed it with hers.
"I know. I just... I don't want to leave you. Not now. Not ever."
"I don't want you to leave either. But you have to fight."
His eyes were focused on the sunset in the distance. So beautiful, and so fleeting. About to transform into darkness.
"I might die," he said. "Men die in war."
"So might I," she said. "Women die in childbirth."
They were both silent for a moment.
"Nothing will happen to you," he said and put his arm around her shoulder. He placed his lips softly on her forehead. "I will make sure of it."
"You can't make sure of that," she said and shook her head. "My mother died. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. My father couldn't prevent it."
Her hands went to her belly. Meera felt like she was wider than she was tall these days. Just walking was a hassle since her balance was so off-kilter. She didn't walk as much as she waddled. Like a damn duck.
In only a few weeks they would become parents. There was no escaping it. That child would come into this world. Not matter if Dorne attacked or not.
"You've never told me about your mother," he said. "What was she like?"
"I barely knew her," Meera replied and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I was only three years old when she died. Her name was Jyana. My grandmother says I look like her. But I don't remember how she looked like. All I remember is that she used to take me to the crocodiles in the swamp. She knew where the baby ones swam and let me play with them. My father never talked about her. I think it pained him too much."
Gendry nodded. "It must have been horrible for Howland to lose her like that," he said.
"Since he never talked about her all she was to me was this woman who died. It was all I knew about her. But she must have been so much more."
"I'm sure she was. I'm sure Jyana was amazing, wild, and beautiful just like you."
She squeezed his hand tightly. "Look at me, Gendry," she said. "And promise me something."
"Anything," he said. He turned his head and looked straight into her eyes. Those blue eyes still made her knees wobble. It was lucky she was sitting down because she was wobbly enough these days.
"If I die, promise to tell our child about me," she said. "No matter how much it hurts you to do so. I need to be more than just a woman who died. I need to be more than my death. My life is more important than my death."
"I promise," he said and squeezed her hand. "And I trust you to do the same for me. If I die fighting."
"I will," she said. "Of course I will. No matter how much it hurts."
She buried her face in his jacket for a moment, trying to hide the tears that started to stream. A life without him was unimaginable.
"I wish my father was here," Meera said as she held her husband. "He's the only grandparent this child will have. But he won't even know he has a grandchild. If something happens to him I would want him to at least know."
"I can send a messenger to the Neck," Gendry said. "Hopefully that would be safe. Perhaps Howland can make it here before the child is born."
"Thank you," she said and buried her face deeper into his jacket.
Behind them, the sun had almost set by now. The sky was dark blue with hints of pink over the water. Soon it would be fully dark.
"I love you," he said and kissed her hair. "And I will do my best to not die."
"I love you too," she said and pulled her husband in for a kiss. "And I will do the same."
Once again her knees went wobbly. She pondered if her belly was too big for them to engage in even more intimate activities. Marya had warned her that such activities might start her labor. But since when did she care about what Marya told her?
It seemed like Gendry did though. "Marya said we shouldn't," he said. "Although I have to admit I'm tempted not to obey her..."
"I guess we should though," Meera said with a sigh. "I've disobeyed her enough for today."
"Come on," he said and got up from the ground. "Let's go back inside, it's getting cold out here."
He stretched out his hand towards her. Meera took it and attempted to rise from the ground. The movement proved to be difficult though. "I think you have to help me up," she said reluctantly.
"I think this may be the first time you've asked me to help you with anything," he said and crouched down in front of her.
"Well, don't get used to it," she said. "As soon as this child is born I'll be myself again."
He put his hand on her hips and placed her hands on his shoulders, and together they rose from the ground. When she was finally up he leaned in over her belly to kiss her.
"If you get any bigger I won't reach to kiss you anymore," he said.
"Hopefully I won't," she grumbled. "Because then I might just topple over."
Together they walked up towards the castle. Or waddled in Meera's case. As they got close to the gate they saw a man on a horse arriving. He looked familiar.
When the man got off his horse Meera ran, well as close to running as she could muster at least, up to him and threw herself in his arms.
"Father," she said. "What are you doing here?"
Howland held her close for a long moment. "Your brother told me to go here," he said. "And now I know why. You look a bit different than when I last saw you."
She looked down upon her pregnant belly. "I guess I do," she said.
"You're wearing a dress," her father said with a chuckle.
"Can't fit in anything else," she muttered.
"You look pretty," Howland said and leaned in to kiss his daughter's cheek. His hand touched her belly lightly as he did.
He looked over at Gendry as well and put his hand on his son-in-law's shoulder. "Congratulations, son," he said. "I guess you're as skilled as your father at siring children."
Gendry blushed heavily. "I guess I am his son," he stuttered while looking down at the ground. "But I don't intend to sire any bastards."
"How long will you stay?" Meera asked her father.
"As long as I need to," he replied. "I don't want to miss the birth of my first grandchild."
A flicker of something darkened his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he thought of what had happened to his wife when she gave birth. But soon the dark flicker was gone. He didn't want to think about it either.
"Let's go inside," Gendry said. "Meera should rest and I can show you the castle."
Meera was about to speak up and say that she had no intention of resting. But then she realized how much her hips and back hurt and how damn tired she was. Some rest would probably do her good. And walking up and down the many stairs of the castle didn't sound appealing.
As they entered the courtyard again Steffon was now standing alone dispensing food. "Where did Marya go?" Gendry asked.
"Mother is helping Lady Brynda," Steffon said. "She's having the child."
Meera and Gendry would be parents soon. But first, another child was to be born. The start of a new generation that would come to shape the future of Westeros.
His name would be Mathos Seaworth.
Chapter 30: Fatherhood
Summary:
A new Seaworth is born. Another Seaworth has interesting conversations with his travel companions that reveal things about their past.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Brynda's labor had started late afternoon but it wasn't until the early morning hours that the little boy was born.
She had screamed. She had despaired. She had cursed the child's absent father for doing this to her.
But it all flew away when Brynda held her son in her arms. All the pain, exhaustion, and anger were gone. Replaced with elation and pride.
The little boy screamed at the top of his lungs and his full head of hair stood up in all directions. He looked a lot like Devan.
As Brynda held him close to her chest the screaming stopped, instead the child seemed to look around the room. Perhaps wondering what kind of world he had been born into. Innocent blue eyes observing a world he yet knew nothing about.
Beside her, Marya Seaworth smiled as she gazed upon her first grandchild.
"Didn't you hope it would be a girl?" Brynda asked her.
"I did," her mother-in-law replied while cooing at the child. "But this one is awfully cute, so he'll do."
***
Davos Seaworth found his son Stannis curled up under a table in the library. His arms were wrapped around his legs and he appeared to be shaking. He looked like the young boy he still was, not a husband or a father.
"How did you find me?" he asked his father.
"Bastian told me where you usually hide," his father replied. It was apparently no secret that Stannis and Bastian were close. Hopefully, his father didn't know how close though.
"Is Brynda alright?" Stannis asked in a worried tone.
"She is," Davos answered. "And so is your son."
Stannis exhaled and bent his head down towards his knees. Tears ran down his cheeks, he couldn't help it. He was so relieved.
"Thank you," he said through the sobs. "Bless the gods."
He cared for Brynda a lot. Not in the way a husband usually did, but rather as an older sister.
His father put his arm over Stannis' shoulder. He let his son cry and stroked his hair lightly without saying anything. Just like he had done when Stannis was a child. Many were the times when Stannis had got enough of Dev's roughhousing and teasing and gone to hide out in the boathouses. But his father had always found him.
"It's not... my child, father," Stannis said like he was revealing a huge secret.
"I know that, son," Davos said with a chuckle. "Both me and your mother know exactly whose child that is. But he's not here. You are. And you did the right thing and chose to care for that child and his mother. You will be his father as far as he knows. So let's go see your son."
Stannis nodded and wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "I wish Dev was here," he said. Because of course, he missed his brother, no matter how fed up with him he had been while growing up.
"So do I", Davos said with a sigh. "Everyone does. I'm sure Dev does more than anyone."
***
The child was so small. Stannis had never seen such a small person before. Not much bigger than a loaf of bread. But yet fully formed, with tiny fingers and a button nose so cute he just wanted to squeeze it.
He carefully sat down next to Brynda on the bed and peered at the wrapped-up little bundle in her arms. "Are you alright?" he asked her with concern in his voice.
She nodded and smiled at him. "Your mother said it was an easy birth," she said. "I'm not sure I would call it that, because it hurt like nothing I've ever felt before, but it was all worth it for this little boy."
Stannis reached out his finger and touched the boy's soft cheek. It was weird to know that his brother had created this little human. That Dev somehow lived in that little boy. He wondered if the child would grow up and be as annoying as his brother.
"Do you want to hold him?" Brynda asked.
Before Stannis could reply she had put the swaddled little creature in his arms and made sure that he supported the baby's head properly.
It was overwhelming to feel the weight of a new life in his arms. He could sense the responsibility it entailed. Since Dev wasn't here he would have to be a father for this child. Even though he still needed his own father. At sixteen years old Stannis would have to make sure this little boy was cared for and loved.
"We'll name him after your brother," Brynda said to her young husband.
"Devan?" he asked.
"No. Where I'm from children are named after the dead. And Devan isn't dead. I refuse to believe he is. This is his son, but he should not be named after his father. Because his father will be back."
Stannis nodded. He didn't want to believe Devan was dead either. But his other brother was.
"His name should be Mathos," Stannis said as he looked at the little boy in his arms. "Because he won't be back."
"But in this way, we bring him back. We make sure he's never forgotten," Brynda said. "Mathos was your brother and he was Devan's brother. You both loved him dearly. He should be remembered."
Stannis felt his eyes watering again at the thought of this brother. Of both his brothers. The one who was lost forever and the one who was lost indefinitely. Stannis had adored Mathos, he had worshipped him in the way only a younger brother can. And while Devan rarely had time or patience to play with him, but always time to tease him, Mathos always did. Mathos had always been there. Until one day he was gone.
He looked down upon the child in his wife's arms. So small, so pure, so innocent. It wasn't his child. It was his brother's child. And he would be named after his other brother. It felt right.
***
Devan wasn't dead. He was as alive as ever. As alive as anyone could be. And determined to one day make it back to his family.
The moment his son was born he stood by a frozen river. They had stayed by Jojen for a few days, to see if he would say anything else. But the boy just appeared to be asleep. Forever stuck in a green dream. So they had made their way to the wildling village down the river to arrange transportation back. But now they were stuck.
Devan cautiously tested his foot on the ice. They needed the river to freeze over to be able to make their way back to Castle Black quickly. When they passed this river on the way to the cave it had been deep-frozen and they had simply walked on the ice. But since then the weather had become warmer. Spring was coming, even in the North.
"I think it will hold," he said to Tormund next to him.
Tormund looked at him skeptically and went out and put his whole weight on the ice. Devan could hear how the ice popped and cracked under the big man. Soon it gave in and Tormund sunk through to his ankles.
Satisfied to have proved Devan wrong Tormund stepped up on the shoreline again. "You're hardly an expert on ice, sea bird," he said while brushing away ice and slush from his water-resistant moccasins.
"We'll have to wait a few weeks at least," Tormund said. "If it even will freeze over again. It's warmer everywhere."
"We can't wait that long," Devan said impatiently. "Is there no other way to get back to Castle Black?"
"We would have to go up the river quite a bit. There's a bridge up by Dead Man's Pass."
"Well, that name sounds awfully inviting..."
"It's not that scary. There's no monster or anything, it's named after the many men who have met their death falling from the narrow bridge."
"That certainly sounds scary enough for me!"
Devan turned around and walked back towards the wildling village. Which was more a camp than a village, with round tents created from hides and mammoth bones built around a square where a large pyre burned. White wolf-like dogs and wooly pigs roamed the streets. Ghost had found a pack of dogs to make his own, even though he towered high over all of them he seemed to see them as his brethren.
By the pyre, Jon Snow sat and looked vacantly into the flames. He hadn't spoken much since they left the weirwood tree. Even less than usual.
Devan grabbed two mugs of mead on his way to the fire. He wasn't really a drinker but it was all the only beverage there was in this village.
As Devan approached Jon's gaze moved slightly though, but he didn't look at Devan. Instead, his eyes went to someone exiting one of the huts. A girl with red hair and wild eyes.
"Who is she?" Devan asked as he sat down next to Jon and handed him one of the mugs. Perhaps some mead would make him more talkative.
"I don't know," Jon said. "But I know who she looks like."
"Who? Someone you knew?"
"Someone who was more alive than anyone. But it didn't matter. Because she still died."
Devan patted Jon's shoulder awkwardly. "What was her name?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does matter because by speaking someone's name we remember them."
Jon's gaze was once again focused on the flames. Perhaps he saw her there. "Ygritte," he mumbled.
Devan raised his mug with mead to and clonked it into Jon's mug. "Let's drink to her," he said. "To Ygritte."
He put the mug to his lips and emptied it. Jon did the same. The world around them started spinning slightly. Wildings brewed strong mead.
Once again Jon looked away from the flames, he appeared to be scanning the village for the red-headed girl.
"Go talk to her," Devan said. "She's not Ygritte, but you might like her."
Jon shook his head. "There's no use trying to relive the past," he muttered. "She's gone. They're all gone. Everyone."
"I'm here," Devan said. "Tormund is here. That girl is here. Your life isn't over Jon. Life is long. That's what my father told me before they sent me up North. I know you think you've already played your part, Jon, and that all that is left is waiting out your remaining years in a dark castle. But it's not. At least it doesn't have to be."
"I'm tired," Jon said. "I know I might be young still, but it doesn't feel like it. It feels like I lived a thousand lives, and lost a thousand loves."
He looked into the fire again. Perhaps he saw them there, everyone who he had lost.
"Then live a thousand more lives and lose a thousand more loves," Devan exclaimed. "You can rest when you're dead. And this world it could be any moment. That's what I learned from my brother's death. One moment you're there and one you're not. But until then it's not over. So fucking live, Jon. Go after that cute redheaded girl!"
Jon smiled at Devan. An exhausted and slightly exasperated smile, but still a smile.
"You're quite convincing for being such an annoying brat," he said.
"So what will happen once we get back to Castle Black?" Devan asked too the opportunity to ask, fueled by the mead. "Will we go back south?"
"I will let you know once we get there, Seaworth," Jon said in an irritated tone. "I'm the Commander and I decide. And I need to think."
Devan nodded and decided to not press Jon more. Even though he wanted to. Because to him, it was so obvious what they needed to do. They needed to go home. They needed to march to the capital. They needed to take down the king.
And he needed to see his child and Brynda.
As Devan and Jon both sat brooding and looking into the fire, one thinking of the child he might never get to meet and one thinking of the girl he lost, Tormund walked up to them, chewing on a newly grilled mammoth leg. He held one in his other hand as well and handed it to Devan.
"Do you have children, Tormund?" Devan asked as the wildling sat down on the log next to him
"I do," the wildling replied. "Not sure how many though. I've laid with many women, at least one giantess, and a few bears."
It took a few moments for Devan to reply, the statement made even him speechless. "Bears?" he stuttered.
"Bears, or hairy women. Who knows? Really not that much difference," Tormund replied with a shrug. "There's this island down south where the bears roam. I went there, drank a lot of mead, and a bear seduced me. I heard she had cubs later."
Devan just looked at Tormund, mouth agape. There was no reply to that. And honestly, he didn't want to know more.
"So where are your children?" he asked instead.
"Here and there," Tormund said and shrugged. But suddenly his expression grew more serious and he looked into the flames. "The youngest girl died. I never knew her. But I saw her die. She killed a giant in her last breath. Her last name wasn't Giantsbane, but it should have been. She was just a child, but a braver warrior than any man I've known. I was proud to be her father, even if she never knew me as such."
"I'm sorry," Devan said and put his hand on Tormund's shoulder. Apparently, he was consoling everyone tonight. "I know I'm about to have a child as well. It might even already be born. But I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl. I don't know if it looks like me. And I might never know. I might never know my child either."
Tormund rustled Devan's hair. "You will know your son or daughter, little seabird," he said. "I never really tried to be a father, but I know you will. You will try everything. And one day you will meet your child."
Devan nodded and tried to readjust his hair. He glanced over towards Jon. But Jon wasn't there.
His eyes darted around the camp to find his friend. The flames from the fire tinted everything red, and the mead made his head dizzy. But he thought he saw a man dressed in black who followed a wild-eyed redheaded girl into a tent.
Notes:
Yeah, Tormund's daughter is who you think she is... there will be more about this later. I wasn't planning to even have Tormund in this story but it turns out he's way too fun to write, so there'll be more backstory added (that kinda fits in with lore from the books/show).
And of course, Jon had to find a pretty red-headed wildling girl to forget his sorrows with. More about her later as well.
Chapter 31: Bear cubs
Summary:
Devan and Jon find out more about Tormund's backstory and family. They are appalled and flabbergasted.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mead should apparently be consumed moderately. That was the conclusion Devan drew as he walked out of his tent with a pounding headache.
He found Jon sitting by the fire again. But he wasn't staring moodily into it this time. He was chattering away and laughing with the red-headed girl on his side. Her fiery hair glowed warmer than the fire beside them as it cascaded around her head in frizzy braids. Her face was freckled and she had a wide gap between her front teeth. She was tall, much taller than Jon. Although that wasn't a great feat. The girl wasn't a stunning beauty by Westerosi standards but she didn't look like she cared about that at all, and neither did Jon.
As Devan dug into a bowl of porridge, that would hopefully alleviate his headache, Tormund walked up to them as well. He gave a nod to the girl, apparently, they knew each other.
"Lyra," he said. "I see you've met my friend Jon."
"Father," she replied as her freckled face shone up in a cheeky smile. "I've certainly met him..."
Jon looked flabbergasted at Tormund who glared back at him as he sat down on the log opposite of the couple.
"Father?!" Jon spouted after a moment of silent gaping. "You're her father?! I didn't even know you had children!"
Tormund looked confused. "I've told you about the bear I laid with many times," he said.
"Too many times," Jon sighed. "But what does that have to do with you having children?"
"Do you not listen to my stories, Jon?" Tormund replied in a hurt tone. "The bear had cubs. That's my bear cub! You laid with my bear cub!"
He pointed to the girl who sat next to Jon, currently giggling at the scene that took place in front of her. Perhaps having Tormund as a father had made Lyra used to these kinds of situations.
"I asked you if you had children yesterday," Devan exclaimed. "You said your children were here and there."
"And that's true!" Tormund replied. "They're here." He pointed at Lyra again. "And there." He pointed at another, slightly younger girl, who walked up to them. Her hair was tangled and braided in the same way as Lyra's but it wasn't red but brown. Like the fur of a bear.
The girl sat down next to Devan on the log.
"Did you know your sister laid with Jon Snow, Jorelle?" Tormund asked her.
"Lyra has a new man in her bed every night," the girl replied and shrugged. "I can't keep track of their names."
"You have people in your bed every night too," Lyra retorted and stuck out her tongue at her sister.
"But they're not men!" Jorelle replied and leaned behind Devan to pull her sister's hair.
Lyra snatched her sister's arm and pulled Jorelle down on the ground in one swift move. Soon she straddled her chest and had her arms pinned down. "You know I'm stronger than you," she exclaimed. "So don't even try, sister."
Devan felt very awkward being caught in the middle of this family feud. He wondered if they would notice if he simply rolled away. Although then he would have to leave his food behind, and he was very hungry.
When it was clear that her sister couldn't get out of her grip Lyra let Jorelle go and returned to her seat next to Jon.
Jorelle gave out a defeated sigh. "Whatever," she said and brushed herself off.
As she got up from the ground Jorelle's gaze fell on the sword that Jon had leaned beside him. "I remember that sword," she said. "It was my uncle's. He had it when he came to visit us many years ago. I touched it when he wasn't looking."
Jon gave her a confused look. "Longclaw was given to me by Lord Commander Mormont," he said.
Jorelle nodded. "Yes, uncle Jeor," she said.
"Jeor Mormont was your uncle?" Jon asked in a bewildered tone. He looked towards Tormund. "Who did you lay with?"
"A bear," Tormund replied.
The cogs in Jon's head appeared to be turning, trying to put the stories together. "So this bear wasn't actually a bear?" he asked. "It was Jeor Mormont's sister, the lady of Bear Island?"
"She looked like a bear when I met her, and I always called her my bear," Tormund shrugged. "But her real name was Maege Mormont. You thought I had laid with an actual bear?"
Tormund gave out a hearty laugh. Jon and Devan shared a confused look. It had certainly always sounded like it was an actual bear when he told the story. And he had told it many times. Too many.
"You could have been clearer on that point," Jon muttered.
"But House Mormont is dead," Devan interjected. "It died with Lyanna Mormont. My father told me about it."
"Was Lyanna your daughter as well?" Jon asked Tormund.
The redheaded man nodded and sighed. "She was. But she didn't know."
"Our sister Lyanna did die," Lyra said. "But our house didn't. I'm the rightful ruler of Bear Island, and I'm on my way back there. Jorelle and I left our home many years ago in an attempt to feed our people. Bear Island is scarce on resources and gold after our uncle Jorah wasted it all. But when the ice lay thick we can venture up North, bypassing the wall, and hunt big game."
"That's how I used to travel there," Tormund added. "I walked on the ice."
"But we got stuck," Lyra continued. "The ice melted and we couldn't get back home. We took refuge with a group of wildlings and we found father. He recognized us because Jorelle looks like our mother."
"I also met both of you when you were children," Tormund added. "I used to travel to Bear Island often to see my daughters. But the bear and I had a fallout after Lyanna was born. And then the ice melted and I couldn't go back."
"Then the white walkers came," Jorelle said. "We had stayed behind with the women and children when father climbed the wall, and our group fled to the ice caves by the coast. It was safer there."
"Later we heard that our sister had died during the battle where they were defeated. Lyanna was left in charge after our mother passed away in a pox soon after we left," Lyra continued. "And we decided we needed to go back to Bear Island. It's where we belong. We can't let our house die. So that's what brought us here."
"You're walking towards the wall?" Devan asked. "You know the Queen of the North doesn't allow anyone from beyond the wall passage?"
The girls nodded in unison. "We figured we would find a way to pass the wall," Lyra said. "Father has climbed it many times so we figured we could too. He taught us to climb ice walls. And we're both Northerners, surely Queen Sansa can't deny us our lands once we've made it back."
"The queen's my sister," Jon said. "I can write you a letter assuring her that your claim to Bear Island is true. She will trust me."
"You should come with us the rest of the way," Devan said. "We're going back to Castle Black. Then you won't have to climb the wall."
Tormund nodded. "Of course you should come with us, girls," he said. "Since the river isn't frozen we will use dog sleds to get to Dead Man's Pass and cross the river there."
Jon groaned a bit, perhaps not happy to travel with a girl he had just laid with and her father, but he didn't say anything. Instead, his hand moved over Longclaw. The sword that had once belonged to House Mormont.
Perhaps he thought of the man who had given it to him. Perhaps he thought of who he himself had been back then. Perhaps he felt that he owed it to the old Lord Commander to escort his nieces back to safety and make his house rise again.
Or perhaps he was just mesmerized by Lyra's wide freckled smile, wild eyes, and red braids that danced around her shoulders as she moved.
Notes:
I hadn't planned to go that deep into Tormund's family history, but I couldn't help myself from weaving in the fan theory of him being Lyanna Mormont's father. So I decided to introduce two more Mormont sisters from the books (there are 2 more there but let's just say they don't exist in this universe as they're too old to be Tormund's daughters). The connection between Jon and House Mormont (via Jeor) was too appealing to back away from.
So yeah, Jon banged Tormund's daughter and Tormund banged a bear (?). (There are rumours Maege Mormont was a skinwalker so I guess she could have been in bear-form for their encounters, or she was just a very rugged and hairy woman)
Chapter 32: The day before
Summary:
Preparation for a war and a birth are underway at Storm's End.
Chapter Text
Soft yellow and green tones enveloped the nursery. Bright morning sunlight hit the walls and made the room appear like a safe and warm cave. A hidden away forest meadow. A place where the darkness surrounding the castle couldn't reach them.
Gendry and Meera sat on the floor in the middle of the room. Her head on his shoulder and their hands interlaced. Neither of them had been able to sleep, so they had snuck into the nursery together to enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet before the rest of the castle woke up. Mornings usually brought news, and news was rarely good these days.
A war was coming. They knew it. The question was just when.
Their backs leaned against a cradle with a stag banner emblazoned on it. It was said that King Robert Baratheon had slept in there when he was a child. Robert's son had found it in one of the storage rooms in Storm's End and made sure it was repaired and cleaned to be used by his own child.
Of course, Gendry Baratheon had never slept in that cradle himself. Instead, Gendry's mother had lovingly placed him in an old crate at night. So perhaps where you sleep as a child doesn't dictate where you end up in life. Because Robert's son would still end up in the same place as him.
Still, Gendry liked the thought of his child sleeping in the crib of a king and continuing the Baratheon tradition.
Carved animals stood in rows on the dresser. Horses, pigs, cows, birds, and many more. Anything a child could want to play with. Although one animal was missing.
"I'll have to ask my father to carve another crocodile," Meera said as she looked at the dresser. "Essie wanted to keep mine and I didn't have the heart to take it back."
"I'm sure Howland will gladly carve you one," Gendry replied and stroked her hand with his thumb.
He looked around the room. It was a lot to take in that his child would soon sleep there.
"Are you sure you don't want this part of the wall repainted?" he asked to take his mind off the coming war and pointed to a section of the green wall that was adorned with spiky lines and uneven shapes.
"No, I like it that way," Meera said with a smile. "I'm sure Essie put a lot of effort into those drawings."
He saw her rubbing her belly and contorting her face slightly. "Are you in pain?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied and smiled at him. "It's just some cramps. It will pass."
He leaned down and kissed her hair. The birth. The war. It was all coming soon. But right now they were here. They were safe.
A knock on the door disrupted their illusion of safety. "Lord and Lady Baratheon," Davos said on the other side. "A letter from House Estermont has arrived. I've told everyone to gather in the Great Hall."
That couldn't be good news. House Estermont was situated on an island outside the coast of the Stormlands. Right where the Dornish fleet would probably sail in.
Gendry got up with a sigh and stretched out his hand to help Meera up. Slowly and carefully she got up as well. "This might be it," he said.
"I know," she said.
"Whatever happens, know that I love you."
"I love you too."
They shared a kiss. Trying to capture the feeling of safety and warmth for one more moment. Then they took each other's hands and walked out to receive whatever news had arrived.
***
Everyone in the room looked at Stannis as he opened the letter.
Gathered in the Great Hall were, apart from the lord and the lady, also Davos, Howland, and Lord Penrose. All with serious frowns on their faces.
Stannis carefully opened the seal with a knife and unfolded the paper. Before he started to read he cleared his throat. The boy looked scared.
"Dornish warships have attacked the island," he read. "House Estermont are trying to defend their castle but a loss seems inevitable as the Dornish forces have hundreds of ships. They suspect Ellaria Sand plans to use the island as a base to attack the mainland. Lord Estermont is asking us to help them if we can."
Gendry sighed. The war was here.
He had known this would happen but still had somehow hoped it wouldn't. His hand clasped his wife's under the table, needing to hold on to something.
"We can't help them," he said. "We don't have enough ships. There's no way our few ships can fight the Dornish armada. It's suicide."
"You can't deny Lord Estermont your help, Lord Baratheon" Lord Penrose objected. "He's your bannerman and relative, and he's asking for your help."
It was true. Lord Eldon Estermont was Gendry's great uncle. His sister Cassana had been Robert Baratheon's mother. But regardless of any relation sending help was fruitless.
"I would help him if I could," Gendry replied. "But we will only lose the few ships we have. Our only option is fighting them on land, then we can maybe hold them off for long enough so Arya and her ships can get here. If they're attacking the island of Estermont now it's likely the eastern shore is where they will land. So that's where we need to make our stand."
"My castle Cape Wrath is on the eastern shore," Davos said. "We can gather your forces there and prepare. Call the banners and get every man we can. We will be fewer than the Dornish armies, but they can't land all their forces at once. Perhaps we can use that."
Gendry nodded. He was glad to have Davos by his side. Someone who had led an army into battle before.
In the only battle Gendry had fought himself, he had stood among the footsoldiers and swung a war hammer. Never had he been the one in charge when the enemy attacked.
"Then we'll march towards Cape Wrath tomorrow if possible," Gendry said. "Can the armies be prepared until then, Lord Penrose?"
Lord Penrose nodded. "I'll do my best to make the armies march at first sunlight."
For once he didn't protest. He was almost too cooperative.
"Write Lord Estermont and tell him to abandon his castle and bring as many men as possible with him to Cape Wrath," Gendry told Stannis. "We'll meet up with him there and we will all fight together. If we win we will retake his castle eventually."
Stannis obliged and immediately started crafting a letter.
"We need to leave some men here too," Gendry continued. "To defend the castle if the king attack, or if the Dornish fleet suddenly sails to Storm's End instead. My wife and child need to be protected, as well as everyone else in this castle."
"A thousand men can hold the castle," Lord Penrose replied assuredly. "Storm's End has never been taken and with a thousand men left behind, I believe it never will be. But who will be in charge of the castle in your absence?"
Gendry could feel Meera clasp his hand intensely under the table. He looked over at her and she gave him a nod.
"My wife, of course," he said. "I would entrust Meera with anything. And if something were to happen to me she is the head of House Baratheon until our child is of age."
"Your wife might be... incapacitated for some time soon though," Lord Penrose said. "And she's not used to ruling."
"Childbirth won't prevent me from defending this castle, Lord Penrose," Meera said as her hand rubbed her belly. "And I will have my father at my side to help me if needed."
Howland nodded. "I've defended castles and fought wars before," he said. "I will do so again if I need to."
"Stannis should stay behind as well," Gendry said. "He's too young to fight."
Stannis shook his head. "Many of those men marching are just as young as me, Lord Baratheon. I should fight too."
Stannis didn't say it but Gendry knew what he was thinking. Bastian's family was from the eastern shore, and he would want to fight. And if Bastian would fight, then Stannis would fight too.
"I've already caused your brother to be sent to the wall, Stannis," Gendry protested. "I'm not going to be responsible for your parents losing another child."
"You won't be, Lord Baratheon," Stannis replied. "It will be my choice to fight."
Gendry nodded reluctantly. He couldn't prevent the boy from fighting if he wanted to since they needed every man they could get. But he feared he would regret it.
"I'll go prepare the troops," Lord Penrose said and got up from the table.
The other men left the hall as well, there were many preparations to be made before the next morning. Gendry sighed and looked at his wife. "I don't want to leave," he said and leaned over to kiss her hair as he tried to keep tears from falling. "Not before the child is born. But I have to."
Meera squeezed his hand and looked up. Her face appeared plagued by pain and her hands held on to her belly.
"I know," she said through gritted teeth. "You might not have to though. I didn't want to alert everyone during the meeting... but I think I might be in labor."
And suddenly he forgot all about the coming war. All about troops and warships. All about the world that was caving in on them.
Because he was about to become a father.
Chapter 33: First sunlight, part A
Summary:
Meera's labor starts and a child is born.
Chapter Text
A storm was coming. A war was closing in. And a child was about to be born. It would all happen before the first sunlight of the next morning.
But right now the winds were calm. The war was at a distance. And the child had just started her journey to this world.
Meera sat down on the bed, where she had been escorted by her husband, and tried to breathe through the pain as the contractions started up again. She could feel it in her back as well now. It was not comfortable at all. Gendry helped her put up some pillows around her so she could lean back.
At that moment Marya Seaworth entered the room. Gendry had told one of the maids to fetch her as they made their way up to the bedroom. She took one look at Meera and seemed to conclude that she was in fact in labor. Marya had skills like that.
"I will take care of her, Lord Baratheon," Marya said. "You can go help prepare the troops and then wait in the hallway."
Meera didn't want her husband to leave. They had created this child together and she wanted him by her side as she brought it into this world. But she didn't have the energy to fight Marya right now.
"I will stay right here with my wife," Gendry said and took Meera's hand.
"Childbirth isn't for men to partake in," Marya replied sternly and opened the door for him to leave. "Men wait outside. I will tell you when the child is born so you can come in."
Gendry shook his head and held on to Meera's hand. "Dammit, Marya," he snapped. "I'm the lord of this castle and I might not use that authority very often, but right now I will. I decide where I go, and I am staying with my wife."
Meera had never seen her husband be so decisive before. It was very attractive. If she wasn't in labor she would have jumped him right there and then.
Marya looked shocked, it might be the first time in her life that someone spoke up against her. Her terrifying demeanor usually made people reluctant to do so.
"Very well, Lord Baratheon," Marya conceded, because well, Gendry was the lord and she couldn't go against his wishes. "But I'm not taking care of you if you pass out. Childbirth is not a pretty thing to watch."
With that Gendry climbed up on the bed next to Meera while Marya prepared water and towels for what was ahead. Meera leaned over and kissed her husband.
"Thank you," she said. "I don't want you to leave."
"I won't," he replied. "No matter what happens, I will stay until this child is born."
Night would fall. War would come. A storm would blow. But he would not leave.
***
On the floor outside the bedroom, Howland Reed sat. Trying to not think about the last time he waited for a birth to happen. He wasn't succeeding.
The thought was inevitable. Meera looked just like Jyana.
Suddenly a hand was put on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Davos Seaworth. In his hand was a bottle of wine that he handed to Howland.
"I figured you might need this;" Davos said and sat down next to Howland.
Howland gladly took the bottle and took a swig. "I'm not much of a drinker," he said. "But today I definitely need this."
As the day turned into night, the bottle was emptied. The two men shared anecdotes of battles fought in the youth. And they awaited the sound of a screaming child.
***
Meera had never been scared of pain. Bruises and cuts didn't bother her. But this pain was different. It felt like she was about to be split in half. And it just went on and on. The whole day had passed in a pain-filled blur.
When darkness fell she started to despair. She was so exhausted already. For much longer would this continue? She just wanted the damn child out of her.
As the pains subsided slightly she laid back on the bed to try to rest for a moment. Her hair was plastered to her face, and her nightgown was soaked in sweat.
"I want this to be over," she whispered to her husband. Gendry's hand hadn't left hers all day.
"You can do this," he whispered and stroked some wet strands of hair out of her face.
"I don't think I have much choice..." she muttered in reply.
All there was now was to endure and to hope that she and the child both would make it through alive. Backing out was not an option.
A storm rolled in with the darkness. It rattled the windows and shook the trees. Salty seawater sprayed over the castle as waves crashed against the cliffs below. It mixed with smoke from a battle further down the coast, as the island of Estermond fell into Dornish hands.
As the winds grew more violent Meera's labor did too. It felt like she was ripping apart from the inside. For long periods of time, she just laid sobbing on her side as her husband stroked her hair. She longed for the durable pain of early labor.
When the night was darkest it was finally time for the last part of the excruciating journey. Meera didn't have any strength left, but still, somehow she continued. Because there was no other choice. She took her husband's hand and started pushing on Marya's command.
The whole world around her was a blur. The only thing she could feel was the pain and her husband's hand in hers. Meera closed her eyes to focus as she pushed. The pain somehow grew even stronger. She didn't think that was possible. But she knew it wouldn't stop until she was done. Then she would have a child in her arms.
As the contraction stopped Meera fell back on the bed in exhaustion to rest briefly until it was time again. Her eyes gazed out the window while she tried to breathe away the pain and gather strength. The rain hit forcefully against the window and the sky was pitch black. Not a star could be seen. But amidst all the darkness she saw a dot of red light. Some kind of celestial object shining brightly enough to cut through everything. Even the roaring storm and the oncoming war.
Meera focused on the bright red light as she felt the next contraction coming. The light felt comforting to her as she sat up to push once again. Perhaps it was a message from someone watching over her. Her mother, or her brother.
She pushed again, and again. And she laid down again, and again. Every time she laid down the red light looked down upon her.
And through it all her husband's hand held hers. Sometimes Gendry leaned down to kiss her forehead or whisper encouraging words.
When the night started to turn into morning Meera heard Marya say that she could see the head of the child. The end was finally in sight. With forces hidden somewhere in her exhausted body, she pushed again and again.
She screamed. She squeezed her husband's hand way too hard. She screamed again.
It felt as if she was being cut open with shards of glass. The intense pain grew stronger and stronger until it felt like she burst open. Something was pulled out of her. A release of pressure and surge of blood throughout her body followed.
That better be it. Because she had nothing else to give. She could barely keep conscious anymore.
She fell back on the bed and noticed that the red light was gone, it had disappeared into the dull morning light. And Meera disappeared too. She closed her eyes and went into a fog where there was no pain.
She could hear Marya tell her something. She could sense her husband whisper in her ear and shake her shoulder. But she couldn't make out the words or respond.
Then a scream.
A scream that wasn't hers.
The scream of a child.
Meera opened her eyes again. She met the worried look of her husband.
"Please don't leave us," he said and placed a kiss on her forehead.
"I'm here," she said, a bit confused about what was going on. But his hand was still in hers and she squeezed it to show that she wasn't going anywhere.
Her eyes darted around the room to locate where the scream came from. There was a bundle in Marya's arms as she stood by the foot of the bed.
Her child. Their child. She needed to see it, to hold it. She needed to know it was real.
"This is your daughter, Lady Baratheon," Marya said and walked up to the side of Meera.
Marya held down the screaming bundle towards Meera and put it on her chest. Her arms felt shaky and unsteady but Marya helped her prop herself up so she could hold the girl and support her head properly.
As soon as the child was against her body she felt whole. An immense sense of love and happiness instilled itself. Like a pink cloud wrapping around her and her daughter. Nothing could get to them in that cloud. Not the king. Not the approaching war.
Perhaps the child felt the same because the little girl stopped screaming once she was in her mother's arms. Instead, she peaked up at her mother with big blue eyes. Eyes that looked like her father's.
She was so small and so perfect. And she was theirs.
Meera leaned down and gently kissed the girl's forehead. Tears had started to run down her cheeks and she could feel the salty taste on the baby's soft skin.
"Joreen," she whispered. "I'm your mother."
Her gaze went towards her husband who looked upon the child in awe and disbelief. "And this is your father," she continued and turned the little girl's face towards Gendry.
"You can touch her," Meera told him. "She's won't break."
Cautiously Gendry stretched out his hand towards the little girl. Very softly he stroked her cheek.
"Our daughter," he mumbled, unable to hold back tears as well.
"Our daughter," Meera repeated and leaned against his chest, her husband placed a kiss on top of her messy hair.
They looked at the little girl together for a moment. Her little face was the only thing visible as the rest of her body was swaddled. Around her forehead dark curls could be hinted. Her cheeks were puffy and red, still squished from the birth. Her lips had a determined look to them, it seemed clear already that this little girl had a mind of her own. She would not smile on command.
Gendry leaned down to kiss his wife on the lips. "You did well," he said.
Meera just nodded and looked out the window. The sky was turning from black to blue. Soon the first sunlight would be here. And she knew what that meant.
But there were still a few moments left until the sun would rise over the horizon.
"Take her," Meera told her husband. "You need to hold your daughter before you leave."
Chapter 34: First sunlight, part B
Summary:
Gendry holds his daughter before he has to leave.
Chapter Text
His daughter weighed almost nothing in his arms. But yet she meant everything. For the first time in his life, Gendry had a family.
As he held her it was like a hole inside of him was suddenly filled. A hole that should have been filled by his own parents. A constant sense of longing for somewhere to belong. Now he knew where he belonged. He belonged with his daughter.
Gendry Baratheon never had parents, but he was one himself now. He couldn't erase his own childhood memories of loneliness and despair, but he could make sure his daughter's memories were of happiness and warmth.
Joreen moved slightly in her father's hold and managed to twist one arm out of the blanket that was swaddled around her. He touched the little hand and its even smaller fingers. His hands were rough and calloused and hers were delicate and smooth. It was a wonder that he had somehow created that.
His wife leaned against his shoulder and watched them. Meera seemed tired and fragile. The birth had been hard on her.
He did not want to leave her like this.
"Are you all right?" he asked and leaned down to kiss her hair.
"I'm fine now that she's here," his wife replied and reached her hand down towards Joreen's little hand. She stroked it and smiled at the little girl.
Gendry looked over at Marya to confirm whether his wife was fine or not. "Don't worry, Lord Baratheon," she said. "I'll make sure she's taken care of. She bled quite a lot but it has stopped now. She just needs to rest. Birth takes its toll on women and it takes some time to bounce back."
"You promise?" he asked. "I'll... have to leave soon. I need to know that she's fine."
"I promise, Lord Baratheon. You don't need to worry about your wife or daughter. Just make sure you come back."
Gendry sighed and nodded. He adjusted the little girl in his grip so he could put one arm around his wife.
There was nothing else he could do. All he could do was to hold his wife and his daughter. His family.
He held them while the sun rose above the calming sea and for the first time warmed his daughter's skin. The little girl blinked as the sunrays stung her eyes.
No other morning had there been a Joreen Baratheon in this kingdom. But there was now. And during her lifetime she would come to change that kingdom.
He held them as his daughter fell asleep in his arms and as his wife dozed off against his shoulder. Both so sweet and peaceful. If only he could have stayed in that moment forever.
He held them as Davos entered the room and asked to speak to him. Gendry knew what he wanted.
"Lord Baratheon... Gendry," Davos said. "I know now isn't the time... but the armies are ready."
"Just give me one more moment," Gendry replied. "I'll be there. I know what I have to do."
"Of course," Davos said and peaked over towards the little girl. "She's so much smaller than I remember my boys being. How are you feeling about being a father so far?"
"Happy. Overwhelmed. Scared out of my mind."
"Yeah, that sounds about right..."
Gendry looked down at the little girl in his arms. There was nothing more important than her in this world now. And there was nothing he rather wanted to do than to protect her.
At that moment he pitied his own father. Robert Baratheon had never truly got to feel what it was like to be a father. He had missed out on just as much as his son.
"You know I regret a lot of things I've done in my life, but I've never regretted saving you," Davos said with a smile. "It turned out to be one of the best things I've ever done because look at you now. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, husband, father."
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," Gendry replied. "And my daughter wouldn't be here. I'm thankful to you that we are."
Davos nodded and turned around to walk out of the room. "Whenever you're ready to leave," he said. "Your troops are waiting for you in the courtyard."
"I'll be there in a moment," Gendry replied. "But can you tell Lord Reed to come in first?"
Howland walked in shortly after Davos exited the room. He looked like he hadn't slept all night either. He looked towards the little girl in Gendry's arms with fascination but then his gaze fell on his daughter. Gendry could tell he had been very worried for her.
Gendry squeezed his wife's hand lightly to wake her up. "Your father is here," he whispered.
Meera tiredly looked up at her father and smiled. Howland walked around the bed and sat down next to her. He patted her hair lightly. "Are you good?" he asked with a concerned looked.
"I'm fine," she said. "I just need to sleep. Don't worry, father."
"You know I will always worry. That's what parents do. You'll figure that out soon."
Howland once again peeked over at the little girl. "She looks a lot like you did," he said to Meera.
Gendry knew it was time. To do the thing he wanted to do the least in the world right now. But he had to do it.
He took one more look at his little daughter in his arms. Then he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Perhaps a last kiss.
"Will you take her?" he asked Howland, even though his voice could barely say the words.
Howland looked up and nodded, he understood what Gendry meant. "Of course," he said.
Carefully, without waking the child, he transferred Joreen over to her grandfather's arms. It was clear that Howland had held a child before because he did so much more confidently than Gendry. He rocked his leg ever so slightly to soothe the little girl.
"I need to go," Gendry said to his wife. "You know I don't want to. But I have to for you and our daughter."
"I know," she replied. "I know you're doing it for us."
Their lips met in a kiss. Softly savoring every moment of it.
"I will be back," he said as their lips parted. "I promise."
"I'll be waiting," Meera replied.
He refused to say goodbye. Because this was not the end of anything.
"I'll take care of them until you return," Howland said with a nod. Gendry trusted him to do so. He knew Howland cared about Meera and Joreen as much as he did.
"Thank you," Gendry replied and reluctantly got up from the bed.
As the tears started streaming he leaned down once more and kissed his wife. One final kiss. Staying just a little bit longer.
Then he turned around and left before he could change his mind. Despite his whole body telling him to stay. Despite the hole inside of him opening up once again as he walked away from his daughter, turning into a bleeding wound.
After exiting the room he leaned against a wall and cried. He kicked the wall with his foot in frustration. All he wanted to do was go back into that room. But he knew he couldn't. Because then he would never be able to leave.
Instead, he had to pull himself together and go down the stairs to lead his armies into battle. He needed to be Lord Baratheon. Because that was the path he had chosen to walk.
But he couldn't bring himself to take those last steps away from his family just yet.
As he stood against the wall, trying to muster the strength he needed to leave, Gendry felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around.
It was Davos. Of course. Always there when Gendry needed him.
Soon he felt a fatherly embrace envelop him. "It's all right, son," Davos said. "I know this isn't easy. But you're a father now and you need to do what you have to do to protect your child. Even if what you have to do is leaving her."
Gendry nodded and dried his tears. He knew Davos was right. So he inhaled, freed himself from the embrace, and cleared his voice. "Let's go," he said, surprised he was able to say the words.
Davos handed Gendry his warhammer. He grabbed the cold hard steel of the handle with a hand that had just moments ago held the rosy soft skin of his newborn daughter.
It was time for war.
A war for the Stormlands. A war for House Baratheon. A war for his daughter.
Chapter 35: Until we can fight no more
Summary:
Everyone prepares for the battles ahead.
Chapter Text
Wind and salty seawater hit Gendry's face. He stood on a rugged cliff and looked out over the sea where a war for the Stormlands was fought. His lands, his home, and his future were at stake.
He had brought House Baratheon back to these lands, but perhaps he would also be the one to see them wash away. Carried away by a strong wave from foreign lands. Unless he found a way to change the tide he would just be a footnote in the annals of his house. The bastard lord who ruled for a year and lost everything. Who lost the lands he would have given to his heirs.
For weeks they had fought the Dornish forces now. Weeks he could have spent with his newborn daughter. Weeks he would never get back.
They fought on the beaches and on the sea. And they lost, again and again. Castle after castle along the coast fell into Dornish hands.
They lost because they didn't even try to win. Not yet. All they tried to do was stall. Gendry had sent small factions of his troops to fight the Dornish armies as they landed but he still kept most of his men at Cape Wrath. He was saving them for one final battle.
As the sun started to set into the stormy sea, coloring the waters dark purple, Davos walked up and put his hand on Gendry's shoulder. "House Lonmouth has fallen as well," he said with a sigh.
"Then the Dornish forces will be here soon," Gendry replied.
Davos nodded with his eyes focused on the sunset. "Within a day or two," he said. "I'll sail with my ships at dawn to make sure I'm in position when they come."
"You think the plan will work?"
"I don't know... but having a plan is always better than not having one. And it worked last time, at Fair Isle when your uncle Stannis beat the Iron Fleet. I was there then and I'm here now."
"And I'm thankful that you are. But we still need Arya's ships."
"Our scouts say that they've been sighted off the coast. Hopefully the raven Stannis sent will reach her so she knows what to do."
"And if she doesn't come in time?"
"I think you know what we'll do, Gendry."
"We'll fight. We'll fight until we can fight no more."
Davos nodded. "That's the only thing we can do."
The sun disappeared into the sea and made the night pitch black around them. Only the crashing waves on the beach below could be heard. That's where they would fight. Not the next day but the morning after that.
That's where Lord Gendry Baratheon would make his stand. That's where Lord Gendry Baratheon would fall.
***
The capital was silent around the king as he sat on his balcony. The same balcony Meera Reed and Gendry Baratheon had shared their first kiss. Of course, the king didn't know that. He would have burned that balcony if he did.
He stared into nothing. Lost in the darkness. Less lifeful than the wall behind him.
But his staring contest with nothing was interrupted by the arrival of Ser Bronn on the balcony. "This arrived for you," the man said and handed the king a letter.
"Why are you delivering letters?" the king asked. "That should be Maester Tarly's task."
"Maester Tarly left, I told you that weeks ago. He's at Horn Hill I believe. Should I send some men after him?"
The king turned his gaze back to the emptiness in front of him. "No need," he said. "He's not important anyway."
Keeping track of all these humans and their human emotions and activities was tedious. The king didn't care. He didn't care about where Maester Tarly was. He didn't care about the kingdom. He only cared about Meera Reed. Because she stood in the way of him destroying it all.
He looked at the letter in his hand. It had the seal of House Penrose. He did care about that letter. Because hopefully, it held the solution to his problem. As he read the letter a weird expression formed on his face which could have been interpreted as a smile if the king hadn't long ago lost the ability to smile.
"Prepare five thousand men to march towards Storm's End," he said to Ser Bronn. "Lord Baratheon will fight Dorne tomorrow, and he will fall. Ser Penrose will make sure of that as he promised. So we need to take his castle before the Dornish armies get there."
"I'm not sure it will be that easy," Bronn replied. "Storm's End has never been taken, it's built to hold a siege with very few men."
These exasperating humans and their human opinions. Why couldn't they just do as he told them? The king knew more than all of them put together.
"Just take the men and go there," the king said in an irritated tone, it was the most emotion he had shown for years. "I will make sure you get reinforcement if needed."
Ser Bronn gave the king a curious look like he waited to get more information.
The king didn't elaborate. He had no reason to give away what he actually was doing when it looked like he was just staring emptily into the distance. That he was actually traveling the world in search of something. Something he could use to achieve his goals.
They would all see eventually though. Once he had mastered controlling it properly. So far it only worked for short moments.
"Lord Baratheon's wife should still be at the castle," Ser Bronn said. "What should we do with her if we take the castle?"
"Take her alive," the king responded with a dark glint in his eye. "And bring her to me."
"And the child? Lord Penrose's letter says that she's had the child."
"Do what you will with the child. Throw it from the tower of the castle. I don't care, as long as it doesn't live. The child needs to die."
Darkness sparked in his eyes as he spoke. It could almost be seen with the naked eye how it consumed him at that very moment. How every vile thought created even more darkness and ate away whatever was left of Bran Stark. If anything still was left.
Even Ser Bronn looked a bit uncomfortable at that request. "I won't throw the child," he said. "But I will make sure your will is done."
The king didn't respond. He was done with human interactions. Instead, he went searching in the darkness.
***
In Storm's End, everything was yet light and bright. Even as the shadow of war was lurking the castle was filled with love, laughter, and the sound of screaming children.
Meera cooed at Joreen as the little girl flailed her arms and legs around where she laid on the bed. She held up a knitted green crocodile in front of her daughter and delighted in watching the little girl follow it with her eyes. One day she would take Joreen to the swamp and show her all the animals for real. But she was probably a bit too small for that yet.
As Joreen whipped her arm out she accidentally slapped Baby Mathos who laid next to her on the cheek. The little boy started crying loudly.
"Come here," his mother Brynda, who sat next to Meera on the bed, said and lifted the little boy up and rocked him. "He's so loud and dramatic. Just like his father... and just as hungry as well. Mathos wakes up at least every other hour demanding to be fed."
The little boy certainly looked a lot like Devan too. His hair always stood on end, no matter how much Brynda tried to make it lay flat, and he was unusually tall and lanky for an infant.
Joreen did not look guilty about the injury she'd caused, instead, she continued flailing around to her heart's delight. It almost looked like the little girl smiled when Meera grabbed her little arms and guided her in moving them around.
If only her husband had been here to see that smile.
It had been about six weeks now since he left. She knew Gendry was still alive. At least he was when Stannis wrote the last letter to report what was happening on the coast. They had lost castle after castle, but they had a plan. To face the Dornish forces in one last battle.
Meera had barely had time to miss him though since she had been so busy with Joreen. Howland and Marya had helped a lot when she was still weak after the birth but she had still tried to do as much as possible herself. So she had struggled with feeding, entertaining, and changing the little girl. And trying to make her sleep. That last part wasn't easy.
She had realized quite soon that Joreen was a very determined little lady who knew what she wanted. And what Joreen wanted was to be in her mother's arms most of the time. She also loved to lay on the bed, as she did now, and wave her little arms and legs around as she looked at the world around her. But Joreen was only content as long as she could see her mother. So Meera let her daughter sleep in a cot next to her bed for now, despite the nursery being all set up. It was lonely in her bedroom at night anyway without her husband around.
Marya had told Meera plenty of times to let the maids take care of Joreen at night so she could get some rest. But Meera didn't want to hand over her baby to anyone else. Joreen was all she had right now and she was not about to let her out of her sight.
"I don't want to do this," Steffon groaned from the desk at the far end of the room and threw himself dramatically on the desk. Marya wanted to make sure the boy's schooling was kept up so she had made Stannis give his brother plenty of readings to do while he was away. And Meera and Brynda were supposed to make sure Steffon actually studied. It wasn't the easiest thing to make sure of.
"I want to go outside," the boy complained and melted down from his chair onto the floor where he started to roll around. Most of Steffon's study sessions ended this way.
"You can't go outside, Steffon," Meera said. "You know that."
After Gendry left Howland had ordered that the castle was locked up. All the gates had been closed and no one was supposed to venture out or in, except for planned food deliveries. In that way, they were prepared in case of an attack. Meera thought it was a bit overly cautious of her father but as she had been so busy with her newborn baby that she hadn't bothered to oppose him.
"I know," the boy whimpered as he rolled on the floor. "And your father doesn't let me climb the walls either, or even go down to play in the tunnels. No one can get me down there. I can't do anything fun."
"You can play with your nephew," Brynda said and hold out her crying child towards the rolling boy. "Maybe Mathos will calm down if you hold him for a bit."
Steffon obliged and got up to hold the child. "Come here, Matty," he said as he rocked the little boy and made faces to him. "There's no need to cry."
At that moment a rhythmic noise was heard. A noise that made the ground shake. And then the sound of a horn trumpeted. A war horn.
Meera lifted Joreen from the bed and held the girl tight to her chest as she walked up to the window. The child grabbed a hold of some strands of Meera's hair and wrapped it around her hand. It hurt a little as Joreen pulled on it but Meera was too distracted to care.
She had a suspicion of what she would see and she feared it.
Through the window, she saw thousands of men marching towards the castle. They carried a grey banner with a wolf on it. The banner of House Stark.
The king had come for them.
He had come for her daughter.
Meera clasped Joreen tighter in her grip. She was not going to let anyone get to her daughter. Joreen whimpered a bit about her mother's tight hold around her.
"Sorry Jory," she said and leaned down to kiss the child's head. Her daughter still smelled so sweet and brand new.
Brynda and Steffon walked up behind her. No one said anything because they all saw the same thing.
It was a good thing that her father had chosen to lock up the castle. The army outside was a lot bigger than the number of men left in the castle but they should still be able to defend themselves for a while. Storm's End could hold a siege.
The door flew open and Howland Reed entered. He was out of breath but looked determined and in control.
"Go to the Great Hall," he said. "It's safer there. I'll gather everyone there to make a plan."
Meera grabbed a knitted blanket from the bed and swaddled her daughter. The Great Hall was cold and she didn't want the girl to freeze. The girl looked a bit surprised and annoyed about suddenly being restrained. Brynda swaddled up Mathos too and down the stairs they went.
As they entered the Great Hall Meera sat down in the lord's chair, after all, she was the one in charge in her husband's absence. Joreen fussed in her lap and managed to twist her right arm out of the swaddle. Somehow she always managed to do that. Meera tried to wrap her up again haphazardly.
Howland, Marya, and Brynda all gathered around the table. Steffon sat on top of the table for some reason. Probably because no one could be bothered to tell him not to. Not even his mother.
No one spoke at first. There was no reason to state the obvious. The king knew about Joreen and he had planned this. He had waited until Dorne attacked to come for them.
Then finally Howland stood up. "We can hold the castle," he said. "At least for a while. Until Lord Baratheon and his armies return."
Another silence. A question no one wanted to ask. Finally, Marya did. "And if he doesn't? What if they lose? Then no one can help us. We can't hold this castle forever."
"Then his daughter is the only remaining Baratheon in this kingdom," Howland replied. "She'll be the Lady Paramount of the Stormlands. We'll need to protect her at all costs."
"My uncle Selwyn still has ships," Brynda said. "We could send a raven to him. If we make our way down to the shore through the tunnels we could leave the castle. To protect Lady Joreen from the king."
Meera shook her head. "The king thinks Gendry has no chance against the Dornish fleet," she said. "He thinks they will lose. That's why he's here. But Bran has underestimated my husband. He thinks he knows how this will end but he doesn't. He doesn't know everything. And my husband will prove him wrong. So I won't abandon his castle. I will hold it for as long as I can."
"My daughter is right," Howland said. "We need to wait until we know how Lord Baratheon fares in the war down south. Only if he loses will we leave. Storm's End is built to hold a siege, it won't fall that easily. And there's still food in the caves from when Lord Lannister held the castle. That boy held this castle for almost three years. We should be able to hold it for a few weeks."
Everyone around the table nodded, as well as the boy on top of the table. They would hold the castle until they could hold it no more.
But the time would come when they would be forced to leave. Once the king's reinforcement arrived.
Sharp talons, black scales, and a twirly tail. Almost as huge as the tower of the castle. It would flap its wings over Storm's End.
Chapter 36: No one saw him fall
Summary:
The Dornish army attacks and Gendry disappears among the waves.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Their enemy attacked in the morning. As the sun dawned over the horizon, coloring it orange and peach, the Dornish ships sailed in. In rickety dinghies, the soldiers came ashore. More and more of them.
Golden helmets on their heads. Shields adorned with orange suns in one hand and sharp bronze spears in the other. They looked magnificent and terrifying.
Gendry stood on the shore as the first wave of his men went out in the waters to greet the attacking armies. The Stormlands army didn't look magnificent. Their armors didn't shine and their weapons didn't glisten. Their helmets were crude and plain.
But they would welcome the enemy with steel. By swords and spears forged into the ultimate shape for war. Not flashy or ornate weapons, but useful ones. Blunt, sharp, and deadly. Ordered by a lord who knew what was necessary for fighting and what was only there for show.
War wasn't beautiful, so why would their weapons be?
On each side of Gendry stood Lord Penrose and Stannis Seaworth. They were all ready to join the fight once the Dornish broke through the first line. The lord would fight with his men because he was a man just like them. A father, a husband, and a warrior.
Davos had left the previous day with his small fleet. They lurked behind the island of Estermont and were ready to ambush the Dornish ships from behind which would trap them against the rugged cliffs. Davos had the advantage in these waters as he knew them like the back of his hand. This was his homeland after all. He knew where the reefs hid right under the surface. The Dornish didn't. But they still needed more ships to execute the maneuver properly.
"Stick by me," Gendry said to Stannis, worried about the boy's safety. He did not want to have to tell Davos about how another son of his had fallen in battle and rested on the bottom of the sea.
Stannis nodded in reply, his gaze focused on the oncoming armies. He looked scared. His hands clasped the sword in his hand tightly. As a son of a knight, he had been trained in war, but he had never shown much prowess in that art. Books were Stannis' chosen weapon in life.
But books wouldn't get him far against the Dornish armies.
The golden helmets of the enemies glistened as the sun rose above the horizon. The water splashed around them and created mist in the air. They were closer now. And there be more to come. The plan was for the Baratheon armies to defeat each wave of Dornish soldiers as they landed in the waters and for their meager fleet to take out whatever ships they could before they even landed.
The golden-clad enemies drew closer, now their armor and weapons could be seen from the beach. It was time. Time for Lord Gendry Baratheon to fight in his own name.
He pulled his helmet down, raised his war hammer in the air, and looked around him on both sides. "For House Baratheon," he yelled like he had yelled that name all his life. "For the Stormlands!"
The men around them raised their swords as well. "For the Stormlands!" they repeated in unison.
Then they ran. They ran towards the enemy.
Some ran towards their deaths.
Gendry waited for a moment before he followed his men down into the water. It was cold against his legs but he could barely feel it. Too much adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
Everything soon turned into a blur as he got closer to the battle. Swords clanking, water splashing, men yelling. The sounds of war. It was impossible to tell at this point if they were losing or winning. All they could do was fight until there was no one left to fight. Or until they themselves were no more.
Drops of water and blood flew through the air as steel met steel. Gaping wounds and missing limbs were the results.
The clear water turned murky, colored by mud and blood. Fallen men disappeared under the surface, never to draw another breath.
Gendry Baratheon fought for hours, or perhaps mere minutes. Time stopped existing on that watery battlefield. It was all the same anyway. Just suffering and fear.
The last time he had fought a battle the enemy had already been dead. This time it was different. This time the enemy was of flesh and blood. This the enemy looked scared as his hammer hit their bodies.
It was different, and it was the same. Because just as last time winning seemed impossible, but losing wasn't an option.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a shimmer of gold to his right. The sun hit the Dornish armor as a few soldiers broke through the Baratheon lines and made their way towards the beach. He needed to stop them.
Gendry panted as he moved his knees high to get where he needed to be faster. Water, blood, and war all around him.
He raised his hammer in the air, ready to strike.
That's when it all went black.
That's when Lord Gendry Baratheon fell.
A strike from behind took him down. Dealt by his ally, not his enemy. The hammer hit his right arm first and then his head. It knocked his helmet off.
A dull pain in his head was all he felt as the sea swallowed him. His last conscious thought before he passed out was of his daughter. Her weight in his arms. He could almost feel her still.
Joreen.
Then nothing. He disappeared into the cold murky waters, hidden by bodies slamming against each other, sounds of agony, and salty cascades of water.
No one saw him fall.
***
No one saw him fall.
Except for Stannis Seaworth.
Sixteen years old. Short for his age. Not a warrior in nature or strength. Named after the man who had almost ended Gendry's life.
Stannis saw his lord fall. And he saw the man who dealt the blow. He saw Cortnay Penrose take down the man he had sworn to serve.
As Gendry sank under the surface Stannis threw himself through the clusters of fighting men. He acted on pure instinct. He swam under the battling men and narrowly avoided getting hit by sword strikes and falling bodies. Somehow he got to Gendry before he disappeared forever into the deep dark waters.
With strengths he didn't know he possessed Stannis pulled the lord's face up to the surface. He gripped under Gendry's arms and pulled the lord through the water while swimming on his back. He navigated under and around the ongoing battle. He struggled to keep his own face above the water to breathe.
Saltwater trickled into his nose and mouth. It stung. He fought for every breath. The armor worn weighed him down. Frenetically he looked for the straps on his leg and arm braces and pull them off. That helped a little.
As Stannis managed to get away from where most of the fighting took place he looked up towards the beach. It was still so far away. Miles it seemed. And no way to rest before he got there. Gendry's body seemed to get heavier with every move, but he was not letting go. He would drown himself before he let his lord drown.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus. Attempting to take a few deep breaths without inhaling water.
Suddenly the weight of the body he carried lessened.
He looked up and met a pair of familiar eyes. The rest of the face was covered by a helmet, but Stannis would always recognize those eyes.
"Bastian," he gasped, it was all he could get out.
"Let me help," Bastian said as he held his hands under Gendry's body.
Bastian lifted Gendry off Stannis and started pulling him towards the beach. Stannis followed.
As they got closer to the beach Bastian signaled to him to help. He took Gendry's feet while Bastian gripped under his arms and together they carried their lord up on the sandy beach.
The sand was stained by bloody footprints. The markings of men who had tried to flee the battle. All around them laid bodies, dead and alive. Dornish men and Stormlanders.
They dropped Gendry on a free spot in the sand, and both boys collapsed next to him. They threw off their helmets and Bastian dropped his sword and shield next to him. Stannis realized he had long ago dropped both.
As they laid their hands interlocked for a moment. Because who cared whose hand held whose in battle.
When he had caught his breathe Stannis sat up and focused his attention on Gendry. He needed to know whether his lord was still alive. Perhaps he had been too late. Perhaps it had all been for nothing.
Stannis knew a bit about the medical arts. He had after all read every book in Storm's End's library. So he knew how to check for breath and pulse.
But he still had a hard time distinguishing whether the pulse he felt on Gendry's wrist was a sign of life from the lord, or just Stannis own heart beating rapidly. So he moved his hand to Gendry's chest, feeling for movement.
And there it was. A sign of life. The ribcage moved shallowly up and down, but it did definitely move.
Lord Baratheon was alive.
Once that fact was established Stannis could take a moment and focus on Gendry's injuries. There was a huge gash at the back of the lord's head, and his arm laid at a weird angle. Stannis turned the arm carefully and discovered to his horror that bones were poked through the skin.
"Give me some cloth to bandage his wounds with," he told Bastian. "And a board or stick to splint his arm with."
Bastian obliged and walked around the beach to find what Stannis needed. When he had what he needed Stannis went to work trying to patch Gendry up best as he could. Hopefully, it would be enough until the maesters could tend to him. Stannis stopped the blood flowing from the wound on the back of the head, and he splinted the arm so the bones wouldn't move more out of place at least.
"Will he be all right?" Bastian asked. "The Stormlands need him. This place was a mess before he came around."
Bastian looked worried, and Stannis knew why.
Bastian had lived through the warring and suffering after the last Baratheon fell. A fight for power where the main losers were the common people. The bastards, the soldiers, and the farmers. Bastian Storm was all of those things. He was the bastard son of Lord Casper Wylde and a farmer's daughter, and he had spent the first few years of his life on his grandfather's farm before becoming a ward at his father's castle and being trained as a knight. His assignment as a squire, and later guard, at Storm's End, had been arranged by his father and Stannis Baratheon.
And if the war didn't stop here it would reach his father's castle next. But the armies would first trample his grandfather's farm as they marched there.
"I don't know," Stannis replied and put his hand on Bastian's shoulder. "But Lord Baratheon is still alive, and I will do my best to try to make sure he remains that way until the battle is over. Then the maesters can tend to him."
Bastian nodded. "You know I believe you can do anything, Stann," he said and tousled Stannis' hair lightly.
"I'll do my best," Stannis reiterated because he didn't want to give Bastian false promises.
The battle and everything else around Stannis disappeared as he focused on making sure that Gendry was alive. It wasn't until Bastian poked his shoulder that he realized that something was happening out on the sea. Stannis turned his gaze towards the waters.
In the distance, he saw ships sailing in, ships that flew a Grey Wolf banner. Not the ships of the king, but of his sister.
Arya Stark had arrived.
Arya's ships attacked from the Northern side of the cape, while Stannis' father's ships attacked from the Southern side of it. In between them was the Dornish armada. Trapped with no way to escape. Cornered against jagged rocks. Defeated by a cunning plan.
As Stannis and Bastian sat on the shoreline, they saw ship after ship disappear into the depths of the Narrow Sea. Ships that flew a Dornish Sun on their banners.
The boys couldn't stop themselves from sharing a quick kiss. Stannis teeth chattered. Bastian put his arm around him to try to warm him. Their clothes were wet and they were both covered in sand from crawling ashore. They were tired and sore from the battle.
But none of that mattered. Because the Stormlands had won the battle. And hopefully, they had done enough to ensure that their lord would be with them to win the war.
Notes:
I know this moment has been teased for a while, so I love finally getting to it. There was, of course, a reason for Stannis to insist to come along for the battle (and I kind of love the irony/symmetry of Gendry being saved by a boy named after Stannis Baratheon...)
Chapter 37: We're not the same
Summary:
Stannis and Bastian deal with the aftermath of the battle at Cape Wrath.
Chapter Text
The whole world was a mess after the battle. Hurt and dying men laid scattered on the beach. The white sand was sprinkled with blood and guts. From the water Dornish soldiers still appeared, having swum ashore from the sunken ships, and they were hunted down by the Baratheon soldiers as they appeared.
Stannis and Bastian stayed by Lord Baratheon's side throughout the madness. They made sure he was carried away on a stretcher and followed along to the infirmary in the Seaworth castle. Regular soldiers who were injured were taken to the medical tents on the beach but the lord would get the best resources they had. Which wasn't much. Just two maesters equipped with decent medical skills and a dozen books on the subject.
Stannis looked longingly at the books as they left Lord Baratheon in their care. He didn't want to be the man pulling injured men ashore, he wanted to be the one to heal them. But as a married man, and the heir of his father's house, a career as a maester was out of the question.
The maesters looked at Stannis' temporary bandages with surprise. "Did you splint this arm?" one of them asked.
Stannis nodded nervously, hopefully, he hadn't messed it up.
"You did well," the other maester said. "You might have saved his arm."
"So will he live?"
"Too early to tell. Head injuries are tricky. Not much for us to do, except bandage the wound and wait. Hopefully, he will wake up."
They left the room to let the maesters tend to Lord Baratheon and sat down on a bench outside the infirmary. Stannis realized now how tired, sore, and dirty he was. His clothes and hair were caked in mud and blood. But there was no time to go wash up or change clothes because Stannis didn't want to venture far from Lord Baratheon's side. Perhaps another attack on the lord's life would come when it was revealed to the perpetrator that he was still alive.
"I saw it," he whispered to Bastian. "I saw who hit him. It wasn't the Dornish. It was Lord Penrose."
Bastian bit his lower lip and nodded. "I'm not surprised. Lord Penrose has never accepted that a bastard from the capital is in charge of these lands," he whispered back. "He always disparages Lord Baratheon behind his back. The bastard lord he calls him-"
Bastian stopped talking as a man walked up the stairs to where the boys were sitting. A tall man with a red beard.
"Lord Penrose," Stannis said and stood up. Bastian stood up beside him. The man was after all above of them in rank and proper respect needed to be displayed.
"I heard Lord Baratheon fell during the battle," Lord Penrose said. "You two saved him."
Stannis nodded and swallowed. He suddenly felt nervous. Had Lord Penrose perhaps noticed that Stannis had seen him?
"We pulled him ashore," Bastian said. "He's injured but alive. The maesters are tending to him."
"Battle injuries, unfortunately, are often hard to heal," Lord Penrose said dismissively. "I've seen many men perish in the days and weeks after a battle, even when their injuries didn't seem that severe."
It sounded like he was hoping this would be the case.
"Lord Baratheon is young and strong," Stannis said. "I'm sure he can pull through."
"I think I've seen more battle injuries than you, young Seaworth," Lord Penrose scoffed. "I'll make my own assessment after I've seen him."
Stannis and Bastian looked at each other. They couldn't let Lord Penrose into that room. He would probably try to finish his work.
"The maesters need time to tend to him without disruption," Stannis said. "Let them do their job and you can see him later."
"The men on the beach must need you" Bastian added. "Plenty of the commanders have fallen, they need someone to lead them."
Lord Penrose nodded reluctantly, he did seem to like the thought of the men needing his leadership. "I will come back later to see how the lord is doing," he said. "If he's still alive then."
As Lord Penrose left the boys sat down again and exhaled.
"I don't think he realizes I saw him," Stannis said. "He would have tried to kill me if he knew. I wouldn't have been able to defend myself. I don't even have a sword. I lost it in the waters."
"I would have defended you," Bastian said and patted Stannis' hand. "I happen to have two swords."
Bastian gestured towards his belt where his sword hung and Stannis noticed now that another sword hung next to it. His sword.
"You dropped it on the beach," he said with a smile and handed the sword to Stannis. "I figured you would just lose it again if I gave it back to you then."
Stannis took the sword and attached it to his own belt. He wasn't a fighter, but Bastian was. Stannis had never seen his... friend in action on the battlefield before. Bastian hadn't been scared or awkward. Bastian had been assured and graceful. Both Stannis and Lord Baratheon would probably have died if it wasn't for him.
"Lord Penrose will take charge of the men now," Stannis said. "They don't know what happened. They should know. But would they listen to me?"
"I think they would;" Bastian said after a moment of pondering. "I know them. I'm one of them. But we should wait until your father returns. He can help us sort this out. There needs to be someone here that the men will follow in Lord Baratheon's absence. The men might listen to you and me, but they wouldn't follow us. They would follow your father. Everyone respects Lord Seaworth."
Stannis' father was still out on the sea with his ships, chasing the remaining Dornish ships away.
"Hopefully father will be back soon," Stannis said and nodded. "Before Lord Penrose can make any more damage."
***
The sun had started to set when Davos Seaworth got back to Cape Wrath. His ships had sunk many Dornish ships that day. A few had escaped into the small sound between the islands and Arya Stark's ships were currently chasing them down. But the Dornish still had men stationed along the coast and on the island of Estermont. The war wasn't over.
He was greeted by Cortnay Penrose on the dock. The lord looked assured and smug. His red beard glowed in the last sunrays of the evening.
Davos immediately looked for his son. He had worried about Stannis all day. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his son and Bastian standing to the side of Lord Penrose, who was followed by an entourage of Baratheon guards.
But he couldn't see Gendry.
"Where is Lord Baratheon?" he asked.
"The lord is In the infirmary," Lord Penrose replied. "He's quite bad off. And that leaves me in charge of his armies."
Lord Penrose didn't sound worried or sad, quite the opposite actually. Davos looked over at his son who was whispering something to Bastian. The boys both looked upset.
"Lord Baratheon is injured?" Davos asked. "Will he live?"
"Too early to tell. He took a nasty blow to the head and his right arm is shattered. A Dornish hammer must have got him."
"No!" Stannis suddenly exclaimed behind Lord Penrose. Davos looked up in surprise, his son was usually soft-spoken. "No, that's not what happened. I saw it. It was no Dornish hammer. It was your hammer, Lord Penrose!"
Lord Penrose up looked at the boy with surprise and exasperation in his eyes. "The boy's confused," he said. "The battle went to his head. He pulled Lord Baratheon to shore after he fell, it must have traumatized him."
Davos raised his eyebrow, he had not realized his son had the strength to save anyone. He was quite small for his age after all, even if he was a married man.
"Bastian pulled Lord Baratheon most of the way," Stannis admitted.
Well, that explained it.
"But I'm not traumatized, father," Stannis said, and looked over at Davos. "I tell the truth. I didn't want to tell anyone before you were here to help me."
Davos nodded and walked up and put his hand on Stannis' shoulder. He was too young to sort this out himself. So of course his father would help him. That's what fathers were for.
"Are you going to believe him instead of me, Lord Seaworth?" Lord Penrose exclaimed. "He got no credibility. We all know what he and his supposed friend Bastian engage in together."
Stannis blushed and looked down at the ground, Bastian seemed to try to disappear into the wall behind him.
"I will believe my son, Lord Penrose," Davos said as he tousled Stannis hair a bit. "Why would you even think otherwise? And I don't care what he and Bastian get up to. That's not relevant for this matter or any other matters."
"Well I'm still in charge here," Lord Penrose said and shook his head. "No matter what the boy accuses me of. The armies are loyal to me."
He gestured towards the yellow-clad Baratheon men who stood in a circle around him.
As Davos considered his options he glimpsed a wave of a hand and suddenly all the soldier raised their sword on command. They pointed them at Lord Penrose who gave them all a surprised look.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "You obey me and no one else."
"Showing you who we are loyal to," Bastian said and stepped into the ring with his sword raised at Lord Penrose. Davos realized that he was the one that had waved to the soldiers to raise their swords. Bastian knew these men, and he knew what they fought for. Because he fought for the same things.
"The perverted bastard son of Lord Wylde..." Lord Penrose said disparagingly as Bastian circled him.
"We are loyal to Lord Baratheon," Bastian said, ignoring Lord Penrose's insults. "And you are not, so we won't obey you."
"Lord Baratheon is not a Stormlander," Lord Penrose protested. "He's not like us. He doesn't love these lands as we do."
"We're not the same," Bastian snarled. "We are nothing like each other. Lord Baratheon might not be Stormlander, but he is like me. He is a bastard, he's a commoner, he's a fighter. He is a good man. You are not. You are a traitor, Lord Penrose."
Before Lord Penrose could answer Bastian thrust his sword towards him. He thrust it into the lord's throat. Blood gushed out and the man fell to the ground. In an instant, he was gone.
Bastian turned and faced Davos, without even looking back at the man who laid dead behind him.
"We will follow you until Lord Baratheon's injuries have healed," he said and kneeled down in front of Davos. All the other soldiers took a knee as well. Helmets to their chest. Swords on their sides. Shields on their backs.
Dark curly hair hung down over honest eyes. Davos could see what Stannis saw in this boy.
"And I will lead you until then," Davos said. "But I will need a commander to lead the army. Would you do me the honor of leading these men, Bastian?"
"I'm just a squire, Lord Seaworth," Bastian replied. "Only knights can lead armies."
"I'm a knight, and a knight can make a knight. I think deeds such as pulling Lord Baratheon ashore and punishing the man who took him down would make you deserving of that honor."
Davos pulled out his sword from its sheet and put it on Bastian's shoulder. He recited the words he had heard said to himself once, the words that made a man a knight of the Seven Kingdom.
***
The maester showed Davos into the infirmary. A light breeze moved the curtains but everything else was still. Even the man on the bed. Not still as someone who slept, but rather as someone who had left this life. Davos had to walk closer to detect a barely visible movement of the sheet.
Gendry was breathing, he was alive. Davos stretched out his hand and put it on top of the boy's. Despite being a lord, husband and father now Davos still considered Gendry a boy. He was after all barely older than his own sons. The hand was warm but still.
"You'll make it through, son," he said. "I didn't save you from your uncle just for you to die here."
That's what he hoped at least. But it was hard to tell. Gendry's head was wrapped in bandages and his right arm was splinted.
"How bad off is he?" Davos asked the maester.
"It's unclear," the man replied. "It's always hard to tell with head injuries. You never know if until they wake up, or until they don¨t. But I've seen far less serious-looking wounds kill a man."
"Well, Baratheons always had thick skulls..." Davos replied. "And his arm? Will he keep it?"
"Too early to tell. The bones poked the skin which is never good since there's a great risk of infection. But so far the wound is clean. Your son did good work patching him up out on the battlefield."
"Stannis is a studious boy. Make sure the wound stays that way. And tell me if there is any change in his condition."
Davos turned around to leave but the door opened just as he was about to exit, and he stood face to face with Arya Stark. Dressed in battle gear and still smelling of the sea. Her ships must have just landed on the shore.
"They tell me he's injured," she said. "I need to see him."
Her big eyes looked worried. Davos had never seen the girl express any outward emotion before.
"Go ahead," he said, "I'm sure seeing a friend is good for him."
Davos had never really figured out what Gendry's relationship with the Stark girl was. Gendry had never told him. And Davos didn't really care. But they did seem to harbor a special bond.
Arya sat down at Gendry's side and took his left hand. The one that wasn't wrapped up in splints and bandages.
"He's strong," she said and looked at Davos. "He survived growing up in Fleabottom. He survived everything we went through together. He'll survive this too. This can't be the end."
Davos nodded. This couldn't be the end. It shouldn't be at least. There was so much left for the boy to do.
Like seeing his daughter grow up.
Davos and Arya stayed there silently for a moment. Both somehow trying to will Gendry to wake up it seemed.
A knock on the door disrupted them. Davos turned around to open it and was met by Bastian.
"Commander Storm," he said with a nod. "Come in."
"Lord Seaworth," Bastian said and bowed in respect. "This arrived from Storm's End. It's not good. Should I read it to you?"
"Go ahead."
Bastian cleared his throat and started reading. "The king's men have attacked Storm's End, " he began. "Lady Baratheon and her father still hold the castle, but they don't know for how long they can resist. The king's men are more than twice the forces we left behind."
Davos gave Arya a glance. "Why is your brother doing this?" he asked with a sigh.
The girl just shook her head. "The king's not my brother," she said. "My brother wouldn't do this."
"Lord Penrose must have worked with the king," Bastian said. "He must have told him about the child. If he took down Lord Baratheon the king probably promised him the Stormlands in return."
"Well Lord Baratheon still lives," Davos said and gestured towards Gendry on the bed. "And the king wouldn't know that yet. We need to act before he finds out. We need to help Lady Baratheon defend the castle."
"We don't have any men to spare though," Bastian said. "We might have beaten the Dornish here at Cape Wrath but they still have soldiers stationed along the shore and a base on the island of Estermont. This war still isn't won."
"My fleet can sail towards Estermont," Arya said. "We'll try to take down their base there."
"Thank you, Lady Stark," Davos said. "I didn't want to ask you to do more for us than you already have."
"I'm not going to leave before the work is done," Arya replied as she still held Gendry's hand. "And I wouldn't leave before I know Gendry is all right and his wife and child are safe. My ships will fight for him for as long as he needs us to."
"My men can march down the coast and try to take back the castles that were taken by the Dornish," Bastian said. "If Lady Stark sails towards Estermont that will cut off their resources so we should have the upper hand."
Davos nodded. "Then we have a plan," he said. "But even if we can't march towards Storm's End now and end the siege yet we can still help Lady Baratheon. I will sail there with a few men and enter through the tunnels, I still know where they are from when I smuggled in food for Stannis Baratheon. Then I will know what is happening there and how long we can hold the castle. I can take Lady Baratheon and the child with me back here to protect them, if the king knows about the child he's probably coming for her."
His thoughts went towards his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and grandson who was also still at Storm's End. Of course, he wanted to save them. But he couldn't let his own personal interests get in the way of what was best for the Stormlands. He would try to get them out of he could though.
"Lady Baratheon wouldn't know Lord Penrose told the king about the child," Bastian said. "She doesn't know he's coming for Lady Joreen."
"She wouldn't;" Davos replied. "And she doesn't know what has happened to her husband. I'm sure she'll want to be by his side once she finds out."
"And the king wouldn't know she's not in the castle," Bastian continued. "That will win us some time. We can prepare our attack from here and let the men rest before we march to Storm's End."
"Lord Baratheon will get some time to heal as well," Davos said. "Having his wife and child with him when he wakes up will be good for him."
All three people in the room quieted for a moment and looked towards Gendry. None of them wanted to say what they were all thinking. What if Lord Baratheon didn't wake up?
While they stood there another threat also loomed. A threat none of them had accounted for. A creature with giant black flapping wings steered its course towards Storm's End and soon it would release its fiery breath upon the castle.
Chapter 38: Save them all
Summary:
It's dragon time!
Chapter Text
In far-off lands, a creature sat high up on a cliff. After the death of his mother, he had flown away with her body. He had taken her home. To where he and his siblings were born. To the womb from which the whole world was born. Perhaps she would rise from there again one day.
Then the creature had flown. As far south as it was possible to fly. To jungles filled with mysterious creatures. Where he didn't need his internal fire to keep warm. People rarely came here. Mosquitos and diseases kept them away. But those things didn't bother a dragon.
High up on a cliff Drogon had made his nest. It was decorated with bones from his prey. Basilisks, giant apes, and river otters were the most common victims to his giant talons and razor-sharp teeth. The prey had grown to unfathomable sizes on these distant shores. Which was good, because the appetite of a dragon was unfathomable as well.
A bat buzzed around the dragon's ears and annoyed him. Drogon snapped his head and snatched the perpetrator out of the air. Not much to eat, but at least the disturbance was gone.
Drogon scraped with his feet and made a circle to lay down. Time for an afternoon nap. Even dragons need to nap. The giant creatures of the jungle could be safe for a few hours. Then it would be time for an afternoon snack.
But as the dragon's mind drifted into dragon dreams something slipped into his mind. An intruder. Drogon could feel it, it was as if something scraped against his brain and asked to be let in. Like an itch behind his temple. He raised his back foot to try to scratch the itch away. But the intruder wouldn't leave.
Bit by bit the intruder made its way into the dragon's mind. It took control over thoughts and movements. Drogon fought it with every fiber of his being. But it was to no avail.
His eyes blinked and once they were opened again his mind was completely under the spell of darkness.
Darkness had won for now, but under the surface, the struggle for power still went on. Drogon kept fighting, looking for an opening to regain control.
The dragon flapped its wings and took flight. The darkness told it to travel towards a stormy port.
***
The whole castle was sound asleep. But not its lady. Meera sat on the bed with her daughter propped up on a pillow in her lap to nurse. The little girl had woken up and demanded to be fed.
Meera was so tired. She never seemed to get more than a few hours of sleep before when her daughter woke up again. Then she had to figure out what the little girl wanted. Sometimes Joreen just seemed to want to scream.
Howland claimed that a certain little girl that he had brought up had done the same.
Right now Joreen wanted food and she hungrily suckled down milk while her mother looked out the window. Rain poured down on the outside of the glass and created an intricate pattern. Meera's mind got lost in the pattern, in it she saw memories she had tried to forget. How her brother died and how she had to put a knife to his throat to stop his suffering.
Then suddenly he stood there, right in front of her. Jojen. In front of the weirwood. He looked different than before. He looked scared and hurried.
"You need to leave, Meera," he said in a rushed tone. "Take your daughter and escape to the tunnels. He's coming. It's coming."
Behind Jojen she saw it. Dark as the night and huge as a castle. Sharp teeth and a fiery breath.
It was coming for her. It was coming for her daughter. It was coming for them all.
Meera snapped awake. The little girl in her arms had stopped nursing and instead looked at her mother with big eyes. It almost seemed like Joreen had seen the same thing as her mother. The little girl had seen her uncle that she would never get to meet.
There was no time to waste. Meera knew her brother was telling the truth. So she wrapped a blanket around her daughter and pulled a coat on over her own nightgown. Then she swooped her daughter up in her arms and exited the room.
She knocked on the door opposite her own room. "Father," she called. "We have to leave. Now."
Not many moments later Howland appeared in the door. He looked sleepy but yet alert. "What's happening?" he asked.
"Jojen told me," she said. "Bran is coming. With a dragon."
Howland nodded and quickly closed the door behind him. He would never doubt the words of his daughter, or his son.
That's when Meera heard it. She heard a roar. And she ran.
***
Davos could see the flames up on the cliff from where he stood in the stern of his main ship. The castle was burning, and his family was there.
He could see the beast that circled the castle. He had seen that beast before. He had seen it burn the capital.
They had chosen a new king for that not to happen again. To make way for a new era of peace and understanding.
But they had chosen the wrong king. If that hadn't been clear before it was abundantly clear now.
Davos had fought his whole life. Served lord and masters. All to give his sons a better and easier life. But the fight never seemed to stop. No win ever seemed to last. There was always a new enemy to vanquish.
His sons had become victims of whatever madness happened in the kingdom. Mathos had drowned. Devan had been banished. And perhaps Steffon was burning up in that castle on the cliff.
At least Stannis was safely back at Cape Wrath, holding down the castle in his own absence, while the Baratheon troops fought the remaining Dornish men.
Davos told his men to pull the sails to stop their progress in the waters. The dragon might spot them if they approached the cliffs. The waters were calm this night and they just floated among the waves while they waited. For what Davos didn't know, but he couldn't turn back now. Perhaps there were still people who could be saved. Perhaps Lady Baratheon and her daughter could still be saved. Perhaps his family could still be saved.
Steffon. If Steffon could still be saved Davos would save him. He would save them all.
Then it hit him. Steffon knew the way down to the beach from the tunnels. It was a tricky route and Davos wasn't sure if anyone else in the castle knew it, but he had shown his son soon after he got back to the castle. The boy never wanted to sit still so running through the tunnels was a great amusement to him, and it kept him from climbing the walls of the castle.
If they had seen the attack coming perhaps people had made their way down the tunnels to escape.
But the ships couldn't venture closer right now. Not as long as the dragon lingered close. It would burn the ships if it saw them.
***
Pebbles and dust fell from the roof of the cave above Meera as she made her way through the tunnels. She pulled the blanket down over her daughter's face to protect her. The little girl whimpered and flailed a bit but accepted her fate.
Right behind Meera were her father, Marya, Steffon, and Brynda with Mathos in her arms. Other residents of the castle also followed. It seemed like Jojen had warned them in time.
"We need to get down to the beach," she said. "Perhaps we can message for help from there. But I don't know the way."
"I know the way!" Steffon exclaimed. "I play down there all the time."
With a torch in his hand, the boy led the way through the winding tunnels. They had to walk carefully not to slip, especially Meera and Brynda who both carried their children. Mathos appeared to be asleep but Joreen was wide awake. The little girl curiously looked at her surroundings and waved her little arms toward the cave walls. At least she didn't scream.
Meera could hear people behind her cough from the dust in the air. It was getting hard to breathe. It was almost impossible to see. They needed to get out.
Joreen started screaming. Meera didn't blame her. She wanted to scream too.
But she was the adult in this situation, not the child. She couldn't scream. Because she had to bring them to safety.
***
From high up in the sky the king swooped down towards the castle, inhabiting the body of a giant fire-breathing beast.
As he saw the castle his hatred took over. The bastard shouldn't have it. He shouldn't rule. He shouldn't have her.
Red hot flames spewed over Storm's End. The king let all his darkness and hatred manifest. He let everything he harbored inside pour out in the form of dragonfire. Roofs and beams burned. Stones fell.
As he let the darkness take over he forgot to hold on for a moment. He let go of the beast he had in his grasp. His control had only been loose to start with and as he let his concentration lapse the dragon's own mind was let in again. And the dragon was furious.
The king tried to regain control but it was too late. The beast would not let him in again. In its fury, it burned woods and fields outside the castle before taking flight. And it pushed the intruder into its head away.
Suddenly the king was back on his balcony. He couldn't see Storm's End anymore. But from the capital, he could see a faint orange tint from the flames he had ignited. It should be enough for his armies to take the castle from the bastard.
***
Davos saw the flames stop. It seemed abrupt. Had the dragon seen his ships? Was it coming for them instead?
The dark night hid the giant black dragon but eventually, the moonlight found it. It was close and it was flying towards them. Davos cowered down on the deck and prepared for the inevitable fire.
But the flames didn't come. A dark shadow just moved over the deck. Then the beast was gone.
Davos looked up towards the moon and saw the silhouette of the dragon leaving. Flying back towards wherever it had come from.
As the monster disappeared in the distance Davos stood up. "Raise the sails," he called out to his men. "We're sailing towards the beach!"
"The dragon might still return," one of the men protested.
"It might," Davos said. "But I'm not leaving my family behind if there's a way to prevent it. I rather burn myself than have them burn."
***
Meera saw only a dot of light at first but soon it got brighter. The moon lit their way out of the caves.
She looked up towards the castle as she exited. There were flames and smoke lingering. Hopefully, no one had been left behind to burn. Stones and wood could be rebuilt but human lives couldn't be restored.
The bitter cold from strong sea winds bit her skin. She wrapped her daughter tighter into the blanket, only her little eyes peeked out.
Those eyes looked like his eyes. Gendry's. She wished he was here. A pang of longing hit her chest. If only she knew he was all right.
Tears streamed down her eyes, freezing to ice on her cheeks. There were people all around her but yet she felt alone.
Then an arm on her shoulder. She looked up to see her father. "Are you alright, Meera?" he asked.
She nodded and buried her face in her father's jacket. Letting herself be a child, not a parent, for a few moments. Howland patted her hair. "It will be fine," he said. "Jojen saved us. We're fine. Your daughter is fine."
He stroked his granddaughter's cheek and Joreen almost seemed to smile at her grandfather. "Should I take her?" he asked. "You must be tired from carrying her the whole way."
Meera nodded and handed the little girl over to her father, Finally, she had her hands free and was able to evaluate the situation.
She looked around the rocky beach. The moonlight danced over the waves outside the tunnels. There was nowhere else to go. They would have to wait here until they were able to message for help in the morning.
A sound was heard from above and Meera looked up to see the silhouette of flapping wings against the pale moon.
The castle was still burning, but the dragon had left.
Then she saw the ships. Ships that were flying the banner of House Seaworth. Help was already here.
***
The first thing Davos saw when setting foot on the beach, after rowing ashore with a few men, was a little boy running towards him. Dressed in a nightshirt, with hair standing on end, and face streaked with dirt.
Steffon.
"Father!" the boy hollered and threw himself in Davos' arms. His father lifted him up, big as the boy was, and held him for a moment. He placed a kiss on the boy's cheek that the child quickly shook off. Apparently, he was too big for that.
"How did you know I was coming?" Davos asked his son.
"Lady Baratheon told us to go down here before the dragon came," Steffon said. "Her brother told her in a dream."
Davos looked up and saw the rest of his family, Lady Baratheon, her father, and many more residents of the castle come out of the cave as well. It seemed like there hadn't been many casualties.
He put Steffon down and walked up to Meera. Joreen was crying and flailing in Howland's arms next to her. "I'll take you to Cape Wrath, Lady Baratheon," he said. "The king knows about the child. She needs to be kept safe. I'll tell you everything later, but right now we need to leave."
He would have to tell her what had happened to her husband but now wasn't the time for that.
Meera nodded. "I'll come with you," she said. "But the castle... It's burning but it's still standing. The king's men will take it since no one is left up there."
"I'll stay here and hold the castle," Howland said. "I told Lord Baratheon I would protect Storm's End in his absence and I will do that."
Davos nodded. "I can take everyone who wants to leave with me," he said. "And I'll leave the men I have with me to fight. You should still be able to hold the castle if you get back up there now. The king's men wouldn't enter until the flames have burnt out. If you wait in the tunnels then you can defend it from them."
"What if the dragon comes back?" Meera said in a worried tone. She didn't sound keen on leaving her father behind.
"We know the king can control the dragon now, so we can place scouts on the tower to look for it," Howland replied. "If it's sighted we'll hide in the tunnels until it's gone. It seems like he can't control it for too long."
"Promise to be careful," Meera said.
Howland nodded and kissed her forehead. Then he handed Joreen back to her. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Just bring your daughter to safety."
As the beast continued to fly away from the castle Davos brought them all onto his ship. Lady Baratheon and her daughter. His own wife Marya and his son Steffon. His daughter-in-law Brynda and his grandson Mathos.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he stood with Steffon on his side, trying to prevent the boy from climbing the railing, and looked back towards Storm's End. The tower was still standing, he could see that clearly, and the flames had turned into smoke.
This time, he had saved them all. This time, he had won. He just hoped this win would last.
Chapter 39
Summary:
Meera arrives at Cape Wrath and sees her husband.
Chapter Text
The castle blended well into the cliffs of Cape Wrath where it dwelled. Dark grey stones and sharp angles. It looked intimidating rather than inviting. Just like the treacherous reefs in the waters outside, which had sunk many ships.
The surroundings were harsh, colorless, and sparse with vegetation. Only low brush and scattered patches of grass. Where the cliffs laid a beach filled with white sand, or it probably used to be white at least but now it was filled with red stains from the battle. The effects of war still lingered days after the battle.
Over the gate hung the banner of House Seaworth. Grey just like everything else on the cape. A black ship flying an onion on the sail adorned it. Davos was the Onion Knight after all.
But the dreary outside didn't concern Meera as she walked inside, with Joreen tightly snuggled in her arms. Neither did the warm and welcoming inside of the castle, decorated with patterned curtains, cozy pillows, and thick rugs. Everything in colorful hues. The work of Marya Seaworth doubtlessly, who had called this castle her home for many years.
All that concerned Meera at that moment was her husband.
During their journey, Davos had told her about everything that had happened. He had told her about Gendry's injuries, Cortnay Penrose's betrayal, and Stannis' and Bastian's heroic actions. He had assured her that her husband was still alive, but that the extent of Gendry's injuries was still not clear.
Meera didn't cry or show any outward reaction when he told her. Since she held her daughter she had to hold it together. She couldn't fall apart. But on the inside she was.
All she wanted was to see Gendry. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to heal him.
Meera kept Joreen close as Davos and Marya walked with her to the infirmary, letting the girl's light snores calm her. The baby had fallen asleep from the gentle waves of the ocean.
"I'll get you some clothes to wear while you see your husband," Marya said and put her arm around Meera. Because, of course, Marya thought of practical things like that.
Meera looked down, just now realizing that she was still wearing her nightgown. "I guess this doesn't look very proper," she said.
"I'll see what I can find," Marya said. "I don't think my clothes will fit you, and since I don't have any daughters there aren't any females clothes around. Perhaps you can wear Stannis' clothes, he's not much taller than you. And I have some of the boys' baby clothes stashed away somewhere that you can put the girl in."
Meera nodded, she didn't really care what she wore. She just wanted to see her husband.
"Can you take her?" she asked Marya and looked down at the girl in her arms. She didn't want to be disturbed by a newly awoken screaming child while at her husband's bedside.
Marya took the sleeping baby without hesitation. "I'll put her to bed in Steffon's old crib," she said.
"We'll be right out here if you need us," Davos said as he opened the door for Meera.
Meera took a deep breath. Then she walked through the door.
Her husband laid on the bed. So still. So broken. So vulnerable. But still so handsome.
Of course, Meera knew Gendry was injured but it felt weird to not have him greet her as she entered.
Slowly she walked up to him. Davos had already told her about his injuries but actually seeing him there made it all so painfully real.
His chest was bare and she could see his ribcage moving as he breathed. There were cuts and bruises along his chest and abdomen, probably from when Stannis and Bastian pulled him ashore. She would thank them for that later.
His right arm was laid into a cradle, a box-like contraption that went all the way from his shoulder down to his wrist, which was supposed to make the bones aligned. Meera had seen the method before. It was used to try to heal complicated fractures. Every day the straps would be tightened to make the alignment straight. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
His head was wrapped in bandages that covered most of his hair. The bandages didn't cover his face, which she was grateful for. She had been told the injury was to the back of his head. Unfortunately, head injuries couldn't be healed with splints or cradles. All they could do was dress the wound and wait.
Meera sat down next to Gendry and took his left hand. "I'm here now," she said and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I'll be here until you get better."
She did not want to entertain the alternative to him getting better.
There was no reply. Only the rhythmic movement of his chest and the sound of him breathing.
She laid down next to him, still holding his hand in hers. It was calming being there in his presence. To feel him breathing next to her. As long as he breathed there was hope.
"Your daughter is here too," she said. "I'll bring Joreen to you later."
That's when she felt something. A light pressure on her hand. Meera wasn't sure if she had imagined it at first but then she felt it again. A little bit stronger this time.
Gendry was still there. Struggling to get up to the surface. Fighting to get back to his wife and daughter.
***
Sooth danced in the air. Smoke still lingered. A burnt smell permeated the castle.
Howland looked around him as he stepped out from the tunnels and into the courtyard of the castle. Everything that wasn't stone had been incinerated by the flames.
But the walls still stood. They were black and stones had fallen but the king's men hadn't broken through.
Howland could hear them though. They were pounding on the gates and climbing up the walls. Soon they would be inside.
He signaled to the men behind him. "Hold the gate," he ordered. "Make sure it's reinforced and secured. Do not let them."
The men ran towards the gate, through debris and smoke, to ensure it wasn't breached.
"Get up on the walls," he commanded the remaining men.
As the men climbed up to defend the walls Howland walked through the courtyard, inspecting the damages. Everything was burnt and damaged. But it still stood. They could still defend this castle.
He had more men than before, probably about fifteen hundred men now, since Davos had left men from his ship behind.
They had manpower. They had weapons. They had food. Luckily the stores of grains and potatoes were kept in the tunnels.
They had everything to fight for, and they would.
Howland put his hand on the wall of the tower, it was still warm to the touch. "Robert," he said. "I hope you see me now. I hope you see me defending your castle. Your son's castle. Our granddaughter's castle. I'm doing this for her."
Then he grabbed his sword and walked up to the gate to fight with the rest of the men. No man could rest when there was a battle to fight. A battle that could not be lost.
***
Everything was foggy and unclear. The last thing Gendry remembered was falling into the water during the battle. It still felt like he was in that water. Saltwater, blood, and swinging limbs surrounded him. He needed to get up to the surface.
His head hurt. That was all he could feel at first.
He needed to swim to get to the surface. But as he tried to move he there was a pain in his arm as well. It felt rigid and unmovable like it wasn't part of his body anymore.
But the surface still came closer.
There was light, sound, and sensation again. There was pain, but there was also love.
He felt a hand on his.
Meera.
He heard the cry of a child.
Joreen.
The blur around him dissipated as he rose above the surface. Relieved to have escaped drowning he gasped for air.
He opened his eyes. The light stung and he could see nothing but white at first.
As his eyes got used to the light he felt confused about his surroundings. This was not a watery battlefield.
The room around him was unfamiliar. Bottles and books on high shelves. Men in robes moving in the background.
But the eyes that greeted him weren't. Eyes that were the color of swamp water. Green, blue, and brown at the same time.
"Meera," he whispered, still confused. His wife shouldn't be here. His voice felt weird and he could barely get the words out.
"Gendry," she said. "You're back with us."
The words confused him, but the splitting headache made him unable to put anything together. He was just happy she was there.
"Where am I?" he asked before starting to cough.
Meera signaled for someone to give him some water. His lips and throat felt dry. Like he actually had been drowning for weeks.
"You're at Cape Wrath," she said while he drank.
He tried to lift his right arm to the cup. It wouldn't cooperate. He looked down towards it and found that it was trapped by boards and straps but he couldn't figure out why.
"Don't try to move your arm, it needs to be still," Meera said in a calming tone. "You were injured in the battle. Your arm is broken. You also got a nasty blow to the head. You've been out for days."
He remembered standing on the beach before the battle. He remembered running into the water. He remembered falling. But everything else was hazy.
Apparently, that was days ago.
"The battle... what happened?" he asked. "Did we win?"
"You did," Meera replied. "Arya sailed in and helped sink the Dornish fleet. She's still fighting them at Estermont, and your troops have marched south to take back the castles along the coast that were lost. But Davos believes they will be defeated soon."
It all sounded good. But he was still confused.
"But... how did you get here?" he asked.
"The king attacked Storm's End while you were away," she replied. "Davos sailed in and rescued us through the caves. I will tell you everything when you feel better."
He wanted to know everything now, even though his head felt like it was being drilled into. But the important thing was that his wife and daughter were safe.
"The king..." he mumbled. "He won't leave us alone."
She shook her head. "He knows, Gendry," she said. "The king knows about Joreen."
Joreen. The mere mention of his daughter's name made him feel elated. The king couldn't take that from him.
Gendry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sort his thoughts. His head was still scrambled and it was hard for him to make sense of everything. But he understood one thing: that the king was coming for his daughter. And his blood started to boil at the mere thought.
If the king would have been there Gendry would have risen from the bed and bashed the bastard's head in. No bandages or splints could keep him from defending his daughter.
"I heard her," he said. "When I was waking up. I heard my daughter scream."
"She's in the other room with Marya," Meera replied. "She's safe. But probably angry that I'm not in there."
"Can you get her? I need to see her."
"Of course. I'll be back with her soon. Then you should rest."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently. His lips were chapped and dry but the warmth and care of the kiss soothed all his aches.
Meera let go of his hand and left the room. He closed his eyes but could still hear whispering voices outside the door. Davos and Marya it sounded like. Stannis as well.
Gendry breathed a sigh of relief that the boy hadn't died in the battle.
Then the door opened and his wife entered again, carrying a swaddled little creature. Dark locks hung out at the top of it.
Joreen.
Meera sat down at the side of the bed with their daughter in her lap.
Gendry couldn't hear or see anything else than his daughter. Joreen's little arms and legs flailed around as her mother loosened the swaddle around her. Dark blue eyes looked towards him suspiciously. One hand went into her mouth. She made a gurgling sound.
Joreen was so much bigger than when he last saw her and seemed much more aware of her surroundings.
Gendry stretched out his left hand, the one that wasn't broken, towards Joreen, and took her little hand in his. She grabbed his index finger tightly. Not letting go.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He had missed her so much. He never wanted to leave her again.
Unfortunately, there would come a time when Gendry would once again have to leave his daughter. He would have to put her in someone else's arms and walk away. Because he would have to go on a journey to save her mother.
But today wasn't that day. Today his wife and daughter were both here with him. Today they were all safe.
Meera crawled up beside Gendry on the bed and laid down. Joreen laid between them and he felt her move against his chest as he fell asleep. No longer drowning, but swimming on the surface, soon to reach the shore.
Chapter 40: Their father, part A
Summary:
Gendry heals together with his family, whole Jojen distracts Bran. They travel through green dreams to destinations known and unknown.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After the dragon escaped his grasp the king locked himself in his chambers. Stuck in a dark temper tantrum. Trying to once again control the fiery beast. Failing.
Dragons were smart creatures. What had worked once wouldn't work again. He would have to find another way.
As he wallowed in his chambers bad news kept arriving. Fueling his anger even further.
If only he could have seen what was coming. If only Meera hadn't ruined everything. She and her bastard husband.
From the Highgarden came the news that Lord Lannister and Lord Arryn had been freed. Which once again put them on the board as possible players against him. They were corrupted and out of his grasp.
From Storm's End came the news that the castle was still in Baratheon hands. The dragonfire hadn't been enough. Somehow the walls still stood and the soldiers were still there. Meera and her damn child must still be there as well. But the king couldn't send more men because of the threat Lord Arryn and Lord Lannister now posed. If the king marched his men elsewhere they could attack the capital. Together with the remaining Lord Redwyne, who had been responsible for freeing them, their forces were not to be underestimated. Even if Lord Arryn hopefully still was afraid his secret would be revealed if he went against the king.
From Cape Wrath came the news that the Dornish attack on the Stormlands had failed. Arya Stark had arrived to help take out their fleet. Bran's sister. His siblings weren't supposed to betray him, that wasn't part of the plan. They were supposed to be loyal to the boy they assumed to be their brother. Why would Arya pick the bastard's side instead of his? Lord Baratheon was no one, and he should mean nothing to Arya.
And the worst news of all; Lord Baratheon was still alive. He had fallen, but he had got back up again. Weakened, but still standing. The king's man in the Stormlands, Lord Penrose, had fallen instead after his betrayal had been revealed.
The king had lost control. All the pieces he so carefully had put in place were blocked or taken out of the game.
This wasn't how the game was supposed to be played. His opponents didn't even know the rules, but somehow they still outplayed him.
The king was supposed to win.
And there was someone else. An unknown player had entered the game. Traveling the same dreams as himself. Revealing his moves to his opponents.
He sensed the presence of this player at times. He saw a glimpse of blond hair in his visions. He thought he knew who it was now.
The king escaped into his dreams. Trying to catch the intruder. Trying to find a way to win.
***
Gendry watched as Meera nursed their daughter beside him on the bed. She sat with her legs crossed and Joreen propped up on a pillow in her lap. They both looked so peaceful and content, and so was he. Despite a throbbing headache, a useless arm that was locked in place, and other lingering effects from his injuries.
His limbs were tired and heavy. It felt like they wouldn't quite obey his commands and any small movement exhausted him. His thoughts felt muddled which meant he couldn't focus on tasks for long and had a hard time remembering the things that were told to him.
It was all a bit much. Cortnay Penrose betraying them. Stannis saving Gendry. Bastian slaying the traitor. A dragon attacking Storm's End.
But despite his pain and struggles, Gendry was so happy to be alive and to be with his wife and daughter.
"You want to hold her for a moment?" his wife asked as the little girl seemed full.
"My arm doesn't work..." he replied.
"You got two arms, dear husband."
"I never was very good with my left though," Gendry said and sighed. "And my hold isn't very strong at the moment. I might drop her."
"You're on the bed. She won't drop, she'll just roll a little," Meera replied. "And I'll help you support her."
He nodded and put out his left arm so that Meera could put Joreen beside him. His wife put the little girl so she was nestled between his chest and arm, then she sat down beside him and put her hand on his arm to help him.
Joreen looked suspiciously at her father at first. Her dark hair had started to shape into curls, just like her mother's hair, and hung down over her forehead. She made some gurgling sounds and flailed her arms around. Then she fell asleep in his arms. Luckily feeding usually made her tired.
***
The towers of the city stretched all the way up to the sky. The buildings weren't carved out of stone or built by bricks but rather shaped out of one form like glass or clay. Uninterrupted fluid forms that looked like waves, waterfalls, and clouds. As if nature itself had been built into a city.
Among the icicle-like towers, dragons circled, not as enemies but as friends. They lived here, just like the people. The people who had learned to master the dragons. The Valyrians.
The king had never gone this far back before. But now he needed to know their secrets.
He traveled through the city. Not walking, but flying like a raven. Through walls, trees, and anything else that came in his way. Around him were smooth roads that didn't seem to wear and tear from shoes and wheels treading upon it. People dressed in gold and silk walked these roads. Perhaps at this time humanity would still have been worth saving. But it was too late now. The humans had corrupted themselves.
Even Valyria had fallen after all. They had doomed themselves in the quest for more knowledge and riches. They had dug too far under the ground and built too high on top of it until one day it all collapsed in a sea of fire.
Soon the king found himself at the heart of the city. This was where he sought was kept. The secret to controlling the fiery beast that had escaped his grasp.
But as he was about to pass through the door to the Dragon master's chambers his surroundings changed. The city turned into a field.
Something had changed. Someone had interfered with his vision.
The intruder.
***
"You should be resting," Davos said as he entered the room. Gendry had asked his wife to call for his advisor. "The maesters say it will take quite some time for your body to recover from that blow. You should be thankful you're still with us. I will deal with whatever needs to be dealt with in the meantime."
"I can't rest," Gendry said, speaking slowly to find the right words. His brain did not cooperate with him. "I can't rest when he's... coming for us. For my wife and daughter."
"The king still believes they're at Storm's End. As long as Lord Reed holds the castle that's what he'll believe. Your wife and daughter are safe here."
"For now... but he won't stop."
"We'll march and break the siege once we're victorious against the Dornish. Lady Stark is fighting them at Estermont and Commander Storm marched the land troops down along the coast to take back the castles we lost."
"Commander Storm? Who... my memory is not what it should be, although it's getting better."
"Bastian. I made him commander of your troops after he took out Lord Penrose. I hope you don't mind me promoting him."
"I don't mind. A bastard commander for a bastard lord. It's fitting. Bastian's young but he's brave and smart. He and Stannis saved me. I do remember Meera telling me that."
"Good to know your mind isn't totally lost," Davos said with a smile and patted Gendry's hand lightly. "You just need some time, and I will try to give you that. You might have to fight the king eventually but you need to heal first."
"With this arm, I'm not sure I will ever be able to fight again," he replied with a sigh. "The maesters won't tell me how bad it is, but I'm quite sure it's bad. Even if I keep it I'm not sure it'll be of much use."
"There's always a way to fight. Jaime Lannister wielded a sword after he lost his hand. I'm sure you can find a way to fight regardless of how bad your arm turns out to be."
"Jaime was a champion fighter, to begin with, I wasn't. I will be of no use now."
"Hand-to-hand combat isn't the only way to fight, son. You're a lord. Lords don't have to stand on the battlefield. They're leaders, symbols to rally behind. You're King Robert Baratheon's son. You're the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Nothing will change that."
"My father was a fighter, that's how he commanded respect."
"That was Robert's way, but maybe that's not the right way. I understand that you're concerned though. You're still a young man and you don't want to be impeded. But listen to this old man when I say that something will always impede you, and the only thing you can do is find a way to overcome whatever it is. It might seem dire but your broken arm might very well have saved your life. It stopped the blow from hitting your head full force, which probably would have killed you. It almost still did. So be thankful for what you have instead of dwelling on what you don't."
Gendry nodded, he was thankful. But he was also worried. Because he was stuck on this bed, unable to fight or do anything to protect his family, while the king was probably plotting against him.
***
The king turned around to see a boy, or rather a young man, standing behind him. A bit taller than when they last saw each other, but mostly the same. Dark melancholic eyes and blond unruly hair.
"Jojen Reed," the king snarled. "You died."
"Everyone dies," Jojen responded with a smirk. "But not everyone stays dead. Just like Bran Stark died when darkness took over. But he might not stay dead either."
"Bran Stark is gone."
"He's not. You're still him. I know you are. Underneath the darkness you are. You're Bran Stark, son of Ned Stark."
Bran was dead. Bran was weak. Bran was human. The king wasn't Bran.
Jojen wasn't strong enough to keep them wherever he had brought them. The tree seemed to have given him some powers but they were far from his own. The king focused on where he wanted to travel. To the secrets about the dragons.
That's when a man walked towards them on the field. Shoulder-length light brown hair and a serious expression. Sword at his side and shield on his back. So young back then.
Ned Stark.
Bran's father. His father.
The King lost focus on where he wanted to go. They stayed right where they were. On a field divided by a river that forked in two. The Trident river.
"You need to remember," Jojen said. "You need to remember what has happened before. Who our fathers were and what they did. How it ended that time, and how it will end again."
Ned Stark walked up on a hill and stood next to another man. Dark melancholic eyes and blond unruly hair, just like his son. Wrinkles had not yet appeared in the corners of Howland's eyes.
There was a big crowd of soldiers and noblemen gathered below the hill. Thousands it seemed.
Above them, stood a man dressed in yellow with antlers on his helmet. Black hair and blue eyes. Just like the bastard.
Robert Baratheon was taller and seemed more confident than his son. But they were also the same. They were Baratheons. Headstrong, passionate, and determined.
Robert spoke in a booming voice to the thousands of men gathered below the hill. Bran remembered the stories his father had told him and he traveled closer to hear what Robert said.
"...I will take him down," Robert bellowed in front of the cheering crowd. "I will take his crown. I will take his throne. I will take his power. I will take everything from him."
There was a short pause as Robert grabbed his war hammer from his belt. He raised it into the air.
"And I will be your king!" he shouted.
The men below cheered and raised their weapons in the air as well.
This wasn't where the rebellion started, but this was where it ended. At the Trident was where Robert staked his claim, and it was where the war was won. After the battle that was about to take place, there was no way for the crown to win.
The king realized that he had let Jojen distract him. It couldn't happen again. He focused his powers again on where he needed to be.
***
Gendry groaned as the maesters moved his arm out of the cradle. His wife sat by his side as they inspected his arm. He held her hand as they carefully turned it to check how it was healing. It hurt a lot.
"We could give you something for the pain, Lord Baratheon," one of them said. "It'll hurt more once we splint it."
Gendry shook his head. "My head is fuzzy enough as it is," he said. "I'll deal with the pain."
It was getting better though in the weeks that had been since he woke up. His head hurt less and his mind was able to comprehend and remember most things told to him.
"Can you move your fingers?" the maester asked.
Pain radiated up his elbow and shoulder as he tried to control the injured arm but eventually, his fingers flexed. It took a lot of effort, but they did move.
"The arm is healing better than we expected," the maester said and nodded.
"Will I be able to use it?" Gendry asked.
"It probably won't regain full function but it shouldn't be completely useless for you either. Time will tell."
"Will I be able to hold my daughter? Or wield a hammer?"
"I think you'll be able to hold the child. I'm don't know about the hammer though."
"My daughter is more important anyway."
He heard Joreen screaming through the walls, she seemed less than pleased to be left in Marya's care. Little as she was, his daughter was already an opinionated little lady.
Gendry gritted his teeth and squeezed Meera's hand as the maesters splinted and bandaged his arm. Then they placed it in a sling around his neck. It felt unwieldy and clumsy but at least he could sit up on the bed now, which he had been unable to do as long as the arm was in the cradle.
"Can I try to get up from the bed?" he asked. He was damned tired of being stuck on that bed.
"You could try," the maester said. "But only a few steps. Your head is still healing and you shouldn't overexert yourself."
They called on Davos to help Gendry finally rise from the bed. With Davos' hand on his back, he tried to get up to a standing position. His limbs felt heavy and controlling them was an effort. But he eventually he was standing. Now it was time to try to take the first step.
It was like he no longer remembered how to walk, the mechanics of it scrubbed from his brain. He tried to tell his feet to move but they wouldn't quite listen. The movements were not what he planned. Perhaps they had gone unused for too long and his body had forgotten how to execute the action.
Then there was the headache. It started as soon as he stood up and got worse as he tried to move. It radiated from the spot where he had been hit and overwhelmed him with its intensity. He felt nauseous and faint.
He felt Davos catch him as he stumbled. "I think you might need to sit down, son," he said. "That's enough for today."
As he leaned back on the bed again he felt exhausted. From standing up. And any flicker of light or small sound made his headache even worse.
This recovery was going to take some time. Hopefully, they had time.
***
As the smooth streets of Valyria once again took shape around him Jojen knew the King was once again in control. It was unavoidable. The king was much stronger. Jojen couldn't win against him. He could only stall and distract.
In the green dreams, time passed differently. What seemed like mere minutes were actually weeks.
His plan had worked. Seeing Ned Stark had rattled the King. He had forgotten who he was, or perhaps remembered who he really was. He was Bran Stark still.
Jojen had tried to show Bran the unavoidable storm that was coming. It had happened before and it would happen again.
But before that Jojen needed to give his sister and her husband time. Time for Gendry to recover enough to do what he needed to do.
Then it would all happen again, and it would end the same. It always did.
It was always the same story, but always a different story as well. Because they were not their fathers and their fathers weren't them.
Notes:
I'm trying a new narrative device here for this three-part chapter, so please bear with me for it :) . Hopefully, I won't butcher the battle of the Trident completely.
One of the unexpected things that happened while I wrote this story was that Jojen turned out to be alive. I had not planned for that... but suddenly he sat there, alive-ish at least. And I realized that he could be used to forward the story in different ways that previously had been impossible. So this chapter is basically me exploring those possibilities to move the story (and time forward).
Chapter 41: Their father, part B
Summary:
Arya visits Gendry. Bran and Jojen continue to visit the past.
Chapter Text
"Look over here's the crocodile," Meera said as she encouraged her daughter. "Can you get over here, Jory?"
The little girl laid on her tummy and Meera held up a knitted crocodile, Joreen's favorite toy, that she tried to crawl towards. Gendry tried to play along as well but his broken arm and aching head prevented him from engaging fully. But he liked seeing his daughter improve her skills. With a determined look, Joreen held up her head and focused all her energy on making her little limbs move forward. She looked like a little seal trying to make its way across an ice sheet. A very cute little seal.
"Glurgh," the baby gurgled as she inched closer to the crocodile.
Her father could relate to her struggles. He walked around for a short while every day now, but it still took a lot of effort for him. He could make it to the dining room without support but he usually had to rest there for a while before he walked back.
But he needed to get better. For his daughter's sake.
A knock on the door disrupted them.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened and Arya stood there. Battleworn and resolute as ever. But when she saw him sitting on that bed her usually serious face broke into a smile.
"You're awake," she said and hurried up to the bed. She put her arms gently around him, being careful not to touch his injured arm. "Davos told me you were up, but I needed to see it with my own eyes to believe it."
"I'm still not of much use," Gendry said and nodded towards his arm. "But I'm getting there, hopefully."
"You certainly look much better now than when I last saw you," Arya said and sat down at his bedside.
"He's getting better," Meera said. "He just has no patience. Broken bones and head injuries take time to heal."
"I'm glad to hear you're still yourself at least," Arya said with a smile. "Rash and impatient certainly sound like the boy I once knew."
"Make him a lord and hit his head with a hammer, Gendry will still be rash and impatient," Meera chuckled and put her hand on her husband's knee.
He gave her a slightly perturbed look but he was really pleased that Meera and Arya seemed to get along so well. There was no jealousy or animosity there, just care and joyfulness.
"Thank you for coming to my aid, Arya," he said. "Davos told me that you were the reason we won the battle at Cape Wrath and that you defeated the Dornish by Estermont just a few days ago."
"We did," she said. "And I'll stay and help you break the siege at Storm's End if you need me to."
"I can't ask you to fight your brother," he replied with a sigh.
She shook her head. "That is not my brother," she said. "Whoever is doing this to you is not Bran. After you're back in your castle I will go North and meet up with my sister. I will tell her what I know and I will convince her to go against him."
"Thank you," Meera said and stretched out her hand towards Arya. "I'm glad you believe us and will help us."
Gendry was disrupted by a nudge on his knee.
"What are you doing, Jory?" he asked his daughter who seemed to be trying to use his legs as an obstacle course and had got stuck.
"Glergh," the little girl replied.
Gendry reached out his left arm and snatched her up, he had got quite skilled at doing that with one arm now, and held her against his chest.
"Glahhh," the baby babbled and waved an arm towards Arya.
"Have you met my daughter Joreen?" he asked Arya while the girl squirmed in his arms. "I think she's kind of cute."
Arya nodded and smiled at him as he bounced the little girl in his lap. "She is very cute," she said. "Is she wearing boy's clothing?"
Joreen was currently dressed in black pants and a grey tunic with a shield crossed with swords embroidered on the front. She looked like a tiny little knight.
"Not much girl's clothes around here," Meera said with a shrug. "I think all of the Seaworth boys probably have worn these clothes before her, and it's not like she cares what she wears yet."
"But if she wants to wear boy's clothing when she grows up I certainly won't stop her," Gendry said and looked at the two women sitting next to him, both dressed in pants and tunics. Arya had a sword hanging at her waist and Meera's spear stood rested in a corner of the room, close-by if she needed it.
"She looks a lot like you," Arya said. "Blue eyes and black hair."
"She's a Baratheon, just like me," he said and leaned down and kissed his daughter's head. "Somehow having a daughter who is a Baratheon it feels even more surreal than me being one. I wasn't born a Baratheon but I carried on the name. I made sure my father's house still lives through her. If I do nothing else in this life, at least I did that."
"Gleeh," Joreen agreed as she drooled on her father's hand.
***
The soft shapes of Valyria were once again around them. Cave-liked sloping corridors and ceilings where light emanated from stalactites. Everything glowed in purple it seemed, like a light sparkling sheen on every surface and every person.
The king entered the chamber where the secrets to the dragons dwelled. A cone-shaped hall and then a cliff-like balcony. And there she stood. The dragon queen. The first one. The ruler of the dragon lords and the tamer of beasts.
Her eyes were bright purple and her long silver hair hung down over luxurious robes. Around her, the dragons swirled. Long twirling tails, sharp talons, and fiery breaths. The hue of their scales shifted eternally in the light. A dragon was never one single color, but all the colors at the same time.
The dragons didn't hurt their queen, because in her hand was the tool to control them. The dragon horn.
That's what he desired. The king needed to see her use it, then he would be able to find it in another place and time. He also needed to hear it, so that he knew the tune that the beast would obey. The tune that would make him the king of dragons.
Then no one would be able to stop him. Not Meera. Not her bastard husband. He would finally be able to end it all. In fire and smoke, Westeros would go down, just like Valyria.
But just as the woman was about to put the horn to her lips the surroundings changed again. In his excitement over soon reaching his goal, the king had lost focus and the weak intruder had taken over again.
***
"Sit down and I can help you undress," Meera said as they entered the bedroom. They had just managed to put their daughter to sleep in the nursery next door in a collective effort. Joreen did not like sleeping as much as she liked screaming and crawling. But despite that Gendry was happy to finally be able to participate in the daily chores of caring for his daughter. He wasn't of much use, since his arm was still out of commission, but he could still sit down to hold her and rock her to give his wife some respite.
The constant searing headache had numbed to a dull ache, making it possible for him to move around more in the castle. But he still got winded easily and suffered bouts of migraines at times. Loud noises and bright lights were his enemies.
All in all, he was getting better though. Just frustratingly slowly.
He sat down on the bed and let his wife take the sling off his arm. She carefully placed his splinted arm on the bed before she started to unbutton his jacket.
"I feel so helpless," he sighed. "I can't even undress myself. You shouldn't have to take care of me."
"It's not a hardship," she replied and leaned in to kiss him. "I love you and I know you would do the same for me if need be."
"I love you too," he mumbled in reply as he searched for her lips again. "And I would do anything for you. For you and our daughter."
His left hand moved down her back and he pulled her closer. Feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time. Forgetting about his injuries. Fulfilling needs he had suppressed.
"We shouldn't," his wife whispered, but she didn't back away. "You are not well yet."
"I don't care. I'm tired of getting taken care of, of not being able to do anything myself. I feel like a child. But I'm not a child, I am your husband. Let me be that, just for a little while."
"What if you get a migraine from it?"
"Then I do. It'll be worth it."
She helped him scoot up to the head of the bed and made sure his injured arm was secured on a pillow beside him. Then she climbed on top of her husband. His hand went to her breast, they were much fuller now that she was nursing, and down toward her belly that still had some roundness to it after the pregnancy.
"We might need to be careful," she said. "I did give birth a few months ago... my body is a bit different now."
"So is mine," he replied. "I'll be gentle, and just tell me if something hurts and I'll stop."
Slowly and softly they tried out what worked and what didn't. It was a bit different, and it hurt a little at times, but in the end, it was good. Really good. For a short moment, they were just husband and wife. Not patient and nurse. Not parents. Just together.
***
The king noted with annoyance that Jojen had once again taken them back to the field. But the grass no longer rattled undisturbed in the wind and the river no longer streamed along gently. Because the war had started. The battle of Trident.
"Why are we here again?" he grunted.
Jojen walked up to the side of the king. "You'll see," he replied with his gaze focused on the battlefield in front of them.
The grass had turned brown from mud and dirt colored the previously clear stream the same color. Thousands of horses and men fought upon and around it.
Screams. Of aggression, excitement, and horror. And over it all, a booming voice was heard. The same voice that had spoken on that hill.
"Forward!" Robert Baratheon bellowed to encourage his men. "Across the river!"
Clinking of blades and thumps of hammers. Meeting in combat until one opponent fell.
A man fell off his horse in front of where Jojen and Bran stood. As he laid on his belly in the mud one of the king's men charged with a spear. But just as the weapon was about to impale the man on the ground another man came running.
A direwolf adorned his armor and a longsword that shone like ice was in his hand.
With a scream, Ned Stark thrust his sword through the chest of the attacking man, with such force that it peaked out the man's back. In a cascade of blood, the king's soldier fell and Ned pulled the sword out of the body. He stretched out his hand to help the man on the ground up.
As the mud-covered man rose Bran recognized his eyes. They were the same dark eyes as those of the boy that stood next to him.
Howland gave Ned a nod and picked up his spear from the ground where it had fallen. This was not the time for small talk.
In the next moment, more of the king's soldiers were upon their fathers. The battle went on. They continued fighting, side by side.
Just a small moment, in a battle full of small moments, full of men saving or dooming each other. But how different the world could have been if it wasn't for that moment. If Howland Reed had fallen there and then. If Ned Stark hadn't saved him.
Bran looked as his father kept fighting. Ned had always been an honorable man, but as he fought on that battlefield honor seemed to be less of a concern. He fought for his life, that was all that mattered. He fought to be able to return to his new wife, and to the newborn son he had never even met.
Then the fight came to a halt. All the men seemed like they were frozen in place and their attention was directed towards the whirling stream. The mud-covered and bloody Ned Stark rose as well and gazed upon two men fighting in the middle of the Trident.
That's where it ended. That time.
Chapter 42: Their fathers, part C
Summary:
Gendry rises and is prepared to fight again, while in the green dreams his father slays a prince.
Chapter Text
Gendry stood on the stairs leading up to the castle of Cape Wrath. In the courtyard in front of him stood thousands of men. Stormlanders fighting for him. They had now defeated the Dornish strongholds along the coast. That war was won. But he knew another war was coming.
His right arm was still in a sling and his head still felt fuzzy sometimes, but he needed to be strong anyway. He needed to be a leader. He needed to be Lord Gendry Baratheon. Regardless of if he felt like it or not.
Meera stood on one side of him, holding their daughter, and Davos stood on the other. Bastian, Stannis, Marya, and Brynda stood beside them.
"Warriors of the Stormlands," he addressed his men. "We fought, we suffered, and we won. I might be injured, but I'm not beaten, We're not beaten. Our lands still stand strong. Because we are proud, we are fierce, and we are strong. We Stormlanders, and we will never surrender."
His voice didn't bellow like his father's, but it rang strong and true. The words came to him easily again, after the cloud had started to lift from his head. Sometimes he paused briefly, almost unnoticeable, to find the right word. But he always found them. He sounded unbreakable, despite his body still being broken.
"I am Lord Gendry Baratheon, the son of King Robert Baratheon, and I will never let anyone take these lands. This is our home and this is my home. I might not be born here but you have still welcomed me as one of your own. You gave a home to a boy that never had one, and I will never stop fighting for that home. There will be more battles to come. The king currently has Storm's End under siege. He's trying to get to me, my wife, and my daughter. But I won't let him. I will break that siege, and I will fight him again if I need to."
With his left hand, Gendry raised his war hammer in the air. It was heavy to lift with his non-dominant left hand but he showed no outward struggle.
"I will never back down, and I will always fight, for the Stormlands!" he shouted.
The men in front of him lifted their weapons as well.
"For the Stormlands!" they yelled in unison.
As the cheering quieted down, Gendry stepped back from the stairs and walked towards the door. A jolt of pain suddenly went through his skull as he walked away. A migraine came on fast and strong. He braced himself in the doorway and managed to get inside to sit down on a bench. The room around him spun and the light seemed to hurt his eyes.
Meera was soon by his side. "What's the matter?" his wife asked as she crouched in front of him with Joreen gurgling in her arms.
"My head," he mumbled as he covered his face in his hands.
"I'll call for Davos," she said and kissed his forehead.
Davos came along and lead Gendry to the bedroom, where it was quiet and dark.
"Do you think the men saw me stumble?" Gendry asked Davos as he put him down on the bed.
"No," Davos replied.
"I want them to think I'm strong. Stronger than I am. Otherwise, they might not follow me."
"You seemed strong. But I think they would follow you anyway."
Gendry nodded and closed his eyes. He tried to shut out everything around him until the pain went away. Usually, it took a few hours at least.
Soon he would have to fight. Regardless of if he was strong or not. The king couldn't know he wasn't.
***
The king was currently somewhere else, lost in a green dream that wasn't of his own making, and he had forgotten what he was looking for. Perhaps he had even forgotten who he was. Instead, he looked mesmerized toward the river in the middle of the battlefield on which he stood.
Two men on horses fought on that river. One with stag antlers on his helmet, golden yellow armor, and a giant war hammer. The other one with long silvery curls flowing out under a flaming helmet, night-black armor adorned with rubies, and a shining long-sword.
Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen. This was where it ended, that time.
They circled each other, waiting for the other one to strike. The water raged furiously around them and reached far above their horses' legs.
Bran moved closer. He wanted to see and hear everything.
Robert struck first. His impatience and hot-headedness made him unable to wait. Rhaegar skillfully parried his hammer. He was the better fighter of the two, everyone could see that. He had technique and grace while Robert just had brute force and stamina.
But skill can only get you so far. Anger can get you further.
And anger was what fueled Robert as he relentlessly kept barraging Rhaegar with strikes. Anger for losing the woman he thought he loved. The strikes came hard and fast.
"Where is Lyanna?" Robert yelled as he thrust his hammer towards Rhaegar.
"Lyanna is where she wishes to be," Rhaegar replied confidently as he once again parried. He was convinced he was the prince that was promised, and the prince that was promised wouldn't die here.
The anger took over and Robert forgot to shield himself. He left an opening for Rhaeger on his left side. The prince struck quickly, burrowing his sword between Robert's ribs, right in the seam between his breastplate and backplate.
"Lyanna belongs with me," he whimpered as the blood gushed out of the wound. He fell down over the neck of his horse, holding on to the saddle not to fall.
"Then why did she come with me?" Rhaegar replied as he got ready to deal the final blow.
A smile fell over Rhaegar's face as he thought of Lyanna. While Rhaegar smiled Robert struck. A moment of inattention gave him an opportunity. He might be wounded but he wasn't dead yet, and the audacity of his opponent to claim that the woman he loved would have left on her own accord filled him with such anger that he no longer felt his injury. That could not happen to Robert Baratheon.
The hammer hit Rhaegar's chest with such power that it knocked him off his horse. It ripped through his armor and cracked his ribcage. Spiky ribs punctured his lungs and heart.
It took the prince by surprise. This wasn't how this was supposed to end. He had not yet achieved the promised deeds he was supposed to.
But that's where it did end. Rhaegar fell into the river. His blood mixed with the muddy water. The rubies from his broken breastplate were swept away by the stream. Taking with it any beauty there might have been in war.
"Lyanna..." was the last words that left the prince's lips as his collapsed lungs screamed for air. Then his severed heart gave in and he drowned in his own blood before the river could take his life.
That's how it ended. Prince Rhaegar died. The capital burned. King Aerys fell.
Then another king rose. King Robert Baratheon.
The king suddenly realized how long he had been there. Way too long. He didn't have time for this. He should be in Valyria, learning the secret tune. But first, he needed to get back to the kingdom. He needed to write another story.
***
"Forward!" the call from their lord bellowed as the Baratheon soldiers ran towards Storm's End.
At the same time as the troops ran towards the castle, the gates opened and thousands of men spilled out from the castle. The remaining Baratheon men enforced by the sailors serving under Arya Stark. She had sailed to the castle and entered with her men through the tunnels to tell Howland about the plan and help them fight.
The king's men were caught in between. Trapped with nowhere to go. Overmanned.
The Baratheon troops were decimated after the fights against the Dornish, but together with Arya's men, they outnumbered the king's men. But beyond their numerical advantage, they had an advantage in motivation. They had everything to fight for. Their homelands, their future, their lord.
Gendry Baratheon stood behind the lines and watched his men fight for him. Die for him.
He wasn't ready to fight. He wasn't strong enough for that yet. But he was strong enough to lead his men in battle.
A dull headache still lingered, but he ignored it. His arm was finally out of the sling and the splints were gone. Instead, his arm was encased in a tight leather casing that went from his knuckles up to his elbow. He couldn't yet grip or lift things with it so the warhammer went in his left hand. He wouldn't be able to swing it with that hand, but it made him look the part.
Gendry Baratheon looked strong, and that's what mattered.
His wife stood by his side, spear in hand. Ready to mow down any enemy that came their way. Gendry knew she would protect him if needed. Their daughter had been left back at Cape Wrath with Marya. Joreen was a bit too small to partake in battle just yet.
The battle was won quickly. It was almost as if the king had forgotten that he had sent men to Storm's End and left them to be plowed down.
Lord and Lady Baratheon walked into the courtyard together. They looked upon the burned walls of their castle. Black stones and soot marks revealed where the dragon had spewed its fire. Storm's End was damaged, but still standing. Just like its lord. And just like its lord, it would be patched together again.
Howland Reed walked up to them, dirty from the battle but still standing as well, and Meera threw her arms around her father.
"I was worried about you," she said.
"I told you not to worry about me," Howland said with a smile. "I always seem to come out of battles alive."
"Thank you," Gendry said and stretched out his good arm towards his father-in-law. "The castle would have been lost without you."
"I still got some fight left in me," Howland said. "It almost felt like I was back in my youth. Fighting for a Baratheon against a king."
"We might have to fight this king again," Gendry sighed. "I don't think he's done yet. I won't go against him, I won't do what my father did. But I think the king will go against me."
Gendry was right. The king wasn't done. He had only just begun.
But Gendry was also wrong. Because he would soon do what his father had done before him.
***
The king opened his eyes. He wondered for how long he had been lost in his dreams.
Outside he heard people yelling on the streets. Simple humans with their simple demands.
The door came open and Ser Bronn stepped into the room. "You're back," Bronn said. "I was starting to wonder if you were gone for good. It's been many weeks."
Weeks. Months. Years. It was all the same to the king. Simple human ways to tell time. To try to make sense of their reality.
"I needed to find something," the king said.
"And did you?"
"It doesn't matter. Not to you."
Bronn sighed, perhaps he was getting tired of the king's cryptic speech. But the king knew Bronn was faithful to him because the former sellsword would do anything to acquire wealth and power. As long as the king gave Bronn that he wouldn't betray him or hesitate to do his bidding.
"What are the people going on about out there?" the king asked and nodded towards the balcony. The yells from the people hadn't quieted down.
"The usual," Bronn replied. "Food. But they're also upset about the rumors from the Stormlands. They heard about the dragon and they want you to protect them from it. They're terrified it will scorch the city again."
"They don't need to be concerned about the dragon," the king replied while staring into the opposite wall.
He still needed to learn the tune. Then he would find the horn, wherever it was, and the dragon would be his minion. He just needed to ensure that the kingdom didn't spin out of control while he went on his quest.
"Did your you... have anything to do with the dragon?" Bronn asked.
"You don't need to be concerned about that," the king replied, a smirk grazing his lips.
Another sigh from his commander. "News arrived from Storm's End today. The dragon apparently didn't discourage Lord Baratheon. He's risen from the sickbed and broke the siege by his castle."
Apparently, the king had been gone too long. He had got lost and forgot his quest. The intruder had succeeded in his quest. He had given the bastard time he wasn't supposed to have.
But there was still a solution to this. He needed to remove a player from the game. The player who affected all the other players' moves. Then he would be able to control the game again.
"Go there," he ordered Bronn. "Do what I told you to do before. Don't hurt her. Bring her to me."
"And the child?"
"The bastard's child must die. I don't care how."
Bronn looked down at the ground but didn't protest. "What is in it for me?" he just asked. The king had known he would ask. He always did.
"The Stormlands," he said. "Once I'm done with Lord Baratheon you will have his lands."
Bronn nodded. He agreed to the deal. He always did.
As his commander left the room a burst of memories rang in the king's ears. Ned Stark's scream as he saved Howland Reed's life on a muddy battlefield. The gurgling sound of Arthur Dayne dying as Howland came to Ned's rescue in the quest to save Lyanna Stark. Meera Reed's sobs as she put a dagger to her brother's throat. And lastly, her parting words as she left Bran Stark at Winterfell.
"My brother died for you. Hodor and Summer died for you. I almost died for you."
Meera had brought him to safety. She had protected him. She had been willing to die for him.
For a moment, the briefest moment, Bran felt something. He felt guilt. A flood of it washed over him. A tear fell down his cheek and his hand went to catch it. He looked upon the drop in surprise.
Then the king snapped back in control and closed off all feelings. Meera was ruining his plan. This needed to be done.
Chapter 43: It's happening again
Summary:
Devan gets a dog and Jon makes a decision.
Chapter Text
The river whirled and roared beneath them. Droplets of water flew in the air and formed a cold mist. Sharp cliffs lined both sides of the waterway, slippery and slick from a treacherous invincible layer of ice. A rickety rope bridge hung precariously over the stream.
"I guess they put up a new bridge," Tormund yelled, to drown out the sound from the loud waters. "Hopefully this one is better than the old one..."
"The old one was worse?" Devan yelled back. He wondered how that was even possible as this bridge looked like it could collapse at any moment. It certainly didn't seem strong enough to transport five people across.
Many men had died crossing Dead Man's Pass and Devan feared he would soon be one of them.
He bent down and petted one of the sleddogs who nudged against his leg. They had traveled by dog sled for weeks now and Devan had become fond of all the canine creatures who transported them. It was hard not to when they curled up next to him by the fire at night.
"How are we going to get you over, Moss?" he said to the dog by his legs. "It's not like you can walk on the ropes..."
The dog had long white-grey fur, similar in color to the moss the mammoths ate. That's probably where it had got its name from. All the dogs had nature-inspired names: Frost, Pine, Birch, and several more than Devan couldn't remember. But Devan had developed a particular liking to Moss during the past few weeks. Moss was boisterous, loud, and keen on engaging in childish games. Just like Devan. He and the dog had spent many evenings throwing sticks and wrestling playfully on the frozen tundra.
"We'll leave him and the other dogs here," Tormund said. "We can't get the sleds over anyway. There's a wildling camp up ahead where they will take care of them."
Before Devan could protest Tormund had walked away from him. "You don't want to get left here, do you?" Devan whispered to the dog next to him. Moss howled in response and all the dogs around them started to howl as well, even Ghost chimed in. The sound of the howling almost drowned out the roaring of the river.
"Stop riling the dogs up, seabird," Tormund yelled at him. "Come here and help us prepare for the traverse over the river instead."
With Moss in tow Devan walked over to where Tormund stood. A couple of wildlings had arrived from the village to take care of the dogs and the sleds. Tormund, Lyra, and Jorelle were busy repacking their items from the sleds into fur bags with straps that they would carry on their backs for the rest of the journey. Castle Black was only a few days on foot after they crossed the river.
Jon stood and looked suspiciously at the whirling waters below them. The fall would be quite far down from the cliffs where they stood, and then the waters would sweep them away. Only a few twisted ropes kept them from that fate.
"Do you trust that bridge?" Devan asked.
Jon sighed. "Tormund tells me it's safe," he said. "And I usually trust Tormund. But he did forget to tell me has children..."
Jon tried to look over at Lyra discreetly. Devan had noticed him sneaking out of their tent every night. Jon and Devan shared a tent on their travels and so did Lyra and Jorelle. Where Tormund slept, or if he slept, was unclear. Devan suspected the wildling just laid down in the snow and made himself comfortable. Tormund never seemed to freeze, rather he was exhilarated by the cold.
The dogs usually slept in a giant pile outside by the fire, all curled up around Ghost. But when Jon left their tent Devan always took the opportunity to sneak Moss into the tent instead and had him lay down in Jon's spot. Which led to all Jon's clothes being covered in dog fur. Devan had seen Jon look at the grey hairs all over his black clothes with an exasperated look, but he never said anything. Most mornings Jorelle appeared in Devan's tent soon after Jon left, claiming that she couldn't sleep as her sister was snoring. With the dog lying between them they told tales about deep waters, high mountains, and snowy fields. Some stories were true, some were not. Jorelle was amazingly enough even more talkative than Devan.
It wasn't exactly a secret where Jon was. But as long as they were around Tormund, Jon never showed any affection towards Lyra. Tormund probably wouldn't care, and Lyra certainly didn't, but Jon seemed to.
"Are you boys ready?" Jorelle asked behind them. There was a big smile on her lips and her tangled braids bobbed in excitement as she moved. She seemed to look forward to the trek across the river. Before Devan could respond, she had put a rope around his waist. Soon Jon was wrapped up as well.
"This way if someone falls we can just pull them back up," she said like it would be the easiest thing in the world.
"Do you think we will fall?" Devan asked in a worried tone.
"Probably not;" Jorelle answered, as chipper as ever. "But you can swim, can't you, Seabird?"
Devan was not thrilled that the nickname Tormund had given him had stuck. "Of course I can," he muttered. "I grew up by the seashore. But I don't think swimming helps in those streams."
"You just have to swim really fast," Jorelle replied cheerily.
"I can't swim," Jon grumbled next to Devan.
"Don't worry, snow boy," Lyra chimed in with a big freckled smile as she walked up to Jon and patted his hair. "I'll jump in after you if you fall."
Jon just shook his hair and avoided looking at his bed companion.
Neither Jon nor Devan felt more confident about the journey across the river after talking to the Mormont girls, but there was no turning back now. They needed to get across that river.
Tormund walked first as they started their journey. It wasn't very far across. About the distance an agile man could jump, but Devan definitely wasn't going to try to jump it.
Behind Tormund, Jon was tethered, and then Devan. As the two weaklings of the group, who weren't used to traversing icy rivers, it had been decided that they would walk in the middle. After them, Jorelle and Lyra followed.
Devan could hear Moss whimper behind them as they walked towards the bridge. He wanted to bring the dog with him, but there was no way to transport the huge wolf-like animal to the other side. Ghost walked up beside the whimpering Moss and nudge him with his nose for consolation.
"How will Ghost get across?" Devan asked Jon in front of him. Surely Jon wasn't leaving his direwolf behind.
"He'll jump across as soon as I'm there," Jon said. "I've seen him jump much further than that."
The sleddogs might be huge, Moss reached about up to Devan's waist with his nose, but Ghost was considerably larger. He could be mistaken for a pony in the dark.
The rope bridge shook already when Devan put his foot on it. The weight from Tormund and Jon had made it move. The bridge consisted of a narrow path with boards on it and two parallel ropes higher up to hold on to.
Devan couldn't help looking down towards the deadly waters. Dark waters with white foaming edges. He wondered what it would feel like to drown in the whirling river. Would it feel the same as when his brother drowned in Blackwater Bay? Icy cold blackness and gasps for air, then nothing. He held on harder to the ropes. He wasn't Mathos, he wouldn't die. Not here. Not now. Not before he met his child.
The bridge turned precariously as the group made their way over the waters. Devan's stomach turned as well when the boards under him swung. Just thin fibers and wood between him and the cold dark waters.
But the bridge held. A few steps later Devan collapsed on the other side. He dragged Jon with him onto the ground, as they were still tethered to each other. Tormund, he had already unhooked himself from the rope that bound them together, looked on with an amused look. His daughters had also quickly freed themselves from the rope.
"Come here, boy," Jon called out to Ghost who was still left on the other side.
The direwolf braced itself for a moment, crouching down on its back feet to gather power to jump. Then in one graceful move, the animal sailed over the raging river and landed right beside Jon on the other side. The wolf bent down and gave his owner an affectionate lick across his face. Jon wiped his face with his sleeve to get the drool off.
Devan looked over the river to see Moss standing where Ghost had just been. To his horror, the sleddog crouched down in the same position that Ghost had done.
"No!" Devan called out. "It's too far, boy! You won't make it!"
It was too late. Moss had already left the ground. The dog flew in an arch over the river and landed with his front paws right on the edge. But not far enough to pull himself up.
Devan threw himself towards the dog, once again pulling Jon with him, someone really should have untethered them by now, and he caught the dog by the neck right before it fell. But the weight of the big dog was too much for him to pull it up.
"Jon!" he yelled. "Help!"
Jon was quick to act. He leaned down from the cliff in a precarious position to grab the dog's tail. Moss whimpered but together Jon and Devan were able to pull the dog up to safety.
Moss gave Jon an insulted look while licking his tail when he finally stood on the cliff. Then the dog turned to Devan and assaulted him with licks and nudges.
Tormund walked up to them as they all still laid on the ground. He had been surveying the path up ahead with his daughters. "Are you two ready to go yet?" he sighed.
His gaze fell on the dog that was still furiously licking Devan. "Where did the dog come from?" he asked.
"He jumped," Devan replied between the licks.
Tormund raised an eyebrow. "Sled dogs can't jump that far," he said. "But those dogs are fiercely loyal. We wildlings always say that if one chooses you, which doesn't happen very often, it will follow you anywhere. I guess that one chose you, seabird. So you better take care of it."
The wildling turned around and walked towards the path again, seemingly tired of waiting any longer for the weaklings.
"Let's get going, Seaworth" Jon, who now freed himself from the ropes, said. "You can play with your dog later."
Jon got up and started walking down the path, with Ghost in tow. Devan got up as well. "Come one, boy," he said to Moss who eagerly panted beside him, and side by side they began the journey towards Castle Black.
***
After a few days, they finally saw the wall in the distance. Dark and sharp it loomed over the white landscape like a storm. It stretched all the way to the sky and the top of it couldn't even be seen as it was obscured by clouds and fog.
Behind it laid Castle Black. What would happen once they got there Devan didn't know. Jon wouldn't tell him. But he hoped they wouldn't stay there for long.
A few days to rest his legs would be good though. Walking through the snow was exhausting. Tormund and his daughters mastered walking on top of it, light and agile as snow rabbits. But Jon and Devan always trailed behind as they sunk down to their knees in the white cold masses. The only thing encouraging them to go on was Ghost and Moss nudging them when they fell. And they both fell a lot.
It was nighttime when they finally arrived at the gate. Which could only be told by the slightly dimmer light, since the sun didn't set anymore in the north. After hearing Jon's voice, the guards let them in the gate and soon they walked into the courtyard.
The castle looked like before. Nothing ever seemed to change there. Dark stones, grey skies, and gloomy moods.
The maester of the castle walked up to Jon as soon as they entered. "This came for you," he told Jon and handed him a letter. "It's from your sister Sansa."
"I don't want any news from outside," Jon said in a brusk tone. "I've told you that before."
"You should read this anyway," the maester said.
Jon grabbed the letter and opened it. As he traced the words on it his facial expression changed.
"A dragon," he said in disbelief. "A dragon has attacked Storm's End."
"Storm's End..." Devan said, feeling his legs buckle under him. "My family is there. Brynda. Our child. My brothers and my parents. Gendry and Meera. Does it say anything about what happened to the people there?"
Jon shook his head. "I'm sorry, Seaworth," he said. "I don't know."
Devan fell into a pile on the floor. The grim possibilities hitting him full force. Perhaps they were all gone. Moss appeared at his side immediately and tried to cheer him up with licks and nudges.
"Her dragon," Jon mumbled. "It has to be her dragon. It's happening again. I can't let it..."
"But who is controlling the dragon now?" Tormund said. "It wouldn't attack like that unless someone controlled it."
"Bran," Jon said with a sigh. "The king. I think he's controlling it from the inside. He can do things like that. "
"He's not Bran," Devan said in an exasperated voice from where he was crouched on the floor. He had said that so many times already, but Jon never believed him. He didn't believe what Jojen had told them.
"No, he's not," Jon said, finally. "He's not my brother. My brother is gone. Because my brother wouldn't do such a thing. Jojen was right. The king is not Bran."
"So what will you do?" Devan asked, hoping to finally get the answer he wanted.
"If I am who I've been told I am..." Jon started, a bit hesitant. "Perhaps the dragon will listen to me. Perhaps I can stop him. Perhaps I can prevent it from happening again. So we need to go there. We need to go to the capital."
Once he said those last words he didn't sound hesitant anymore, he sounded full of conviction. He sounded like Ned Stark. A man who had always chosen the most honorable and righteous path, even if that path was also the most treacherous and arduous.
Chapter 44: One day
Summary:
Gendry and Meera are back at Storm's End, but someone is coming for them.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They got one day. One day of happiness and calm. One day of peace in the Stormlands. One day when no one was in peril.
That day the sun shone, even in the usually rain-soaked Stormlands. The birds sang chipper tones and the flowers bloomed in vibrant colors. No stormwinds blew, only a gentle breeze rustled the grass where Joreen crawled. Her parents sat beside her. They had decided to venture out to the woods outside the castle for the day, in an attempt to forget their troubles. They knew the current calm wouldn't last. They were in the eye of the storm and at any moment it would make landfall once again.
Meera put her hand on her husband's right palm and stroked his fingers. The rest of his arm was covered in a stiff leather casing that went up to his elbow.
"Can you feel that?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, I can feel it," he said with a sigh. "I can't bend it or lift it much, but I can feel it."
She interlaced her fingers with his. With some effort, he managed to bend his fingers around hers as well.
"At least you can hold my hand now," she said with a smile and squeezed his hand.
"I can," he replied. "But I can't do much else."
"It will get better."
"I hope so, because I need to be strong soon. When the king comes for us again. I know he will."
Meera leaned her head lightly on Gendry's shoulder. "He will," she sighed. " He won't give up. But we'll fight him."
"My forces are decimated after the wars. If the king attacks with all his men we'll have no chance. He'll crush us. He'll crush our daughter. I can't let him. I need to do something."
"Lord Arryn and Lord Lannister have sworn to be loyal to you in the past. Since the situation in Highgarden is resolved now you could ask for them to stand with you against the king. Lord Arryn still has sizeable armies."
"I can't ask that of them. They've both just became fathers as well. I can't ask them to walk away from their families to stand up for my family. Not against a king who has a dragon on his side."
"You should still ask them. Let them make their own decisions. They wouldn't just do it for our family. They would do it for their own families as well. To make sure this kingdom is safe for their children to grow up in."
As on cue, Joreen put some grass in her mouth and started chewing on it. "Jory, don't eat that!" Meera exclaimed and snatched her daughter up from the ground.
"Here," she said to her husband. "Hold this little wildling while I put down a blanket for her to roll on instead."
She put a flailing and drooling Joreen in her husband's lap and he used a rag to wipe off the little girl's mouth. As parents to a messy little girl, they had quickly learned to always carry around rags and towels to clean her up with.
"Goooooh," Joreen protested against her father's treatment of her.
"At least you get to roll around in the grass, Jory," Gendry said to his daughter while bouncing her in his lap. "I'm not sure I even saw grass before I left the orphanage. The septas kept us inside most of the time."
Meera gave her husband a horrified look. "I still don't think she should eat the grass though," she said and sat down beside them and patted her husband's hand again. "But I will certainly make sure she gets to be outside. She won't be a pampered little lady who is afraid of mud and grass stains."
"I don't think that is in any danger of happening with you as her mother," he said and smiled at his wife.
She smiled back. "Let me get that blanket so that you can put her down," she said and started getting up again.
"I can hold her for a while," he said and looked down at the little girl who seemed to have made herself comfortable nuzzled against his chest. "At least I can hold her. I can't lift her or carry her put at least I can hold her in my arms when I'm seated."
"You'll be able to lift her and carry her when your arm gets better," Meera replied.
"She might be too big then."
"Then you can do it with the next child."
He didn't seem to register the words at first as Joreen fuzzed and moved around in his lap, but suddenly he looked up at his wife.
"You mean..." he started, unable to find the words.
She nodded. "It seems like it. It feels just like last time."
With their daughter still in his arm, he inched closer to his wife. With some effort, he put his right hand up to caress her cheek before he leaned in to kiss her. The kiss felt the same as that first time, on a balcony overlooking King's Landing. Warm, safe, and exhilarating.
"I never had a family," he said. "Not until I met you. Now I have everything."
"You'll have a big family soon if we keep up this pace," she replied with a cheeky smile.
"Gaaahgah," Joreen added and reached out her hand to pull her mother's hair. She was apparently very excited about becoming a big sister.
That day everything was perfect, but they only got that one day. Before their world shattered once again.
***
Early morning sunshine and Joreen's cries woke Meera up the next morning.
She sighed and walked up to her daughter's crib. The little girl slept in a cot in their room since they were yet to actually have her sleep in the nursery that had been set up. She seemed too small to sleep so far away.
"Couldn't you sleep just a little bit longer, Jory," she said as she picked the little girl up. "You're going to wake your father."
Her husband slept peacefully for once. The pain in his arm and head made it hard for him to sleep still. Meera sat down beside him on the bed to nurse the little girl, hoping that Joreen would go back to sleep afterward. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.
Meera looked out the window as Joreen cooed and flailed on the bed. The woods outside looked very inviting as they basked in sunshine. "You want to go outside, Jory?" she asked the little girl. "You can hunt together with your mother."
The baby didn't protest so Meera strapped Joreen to her chest, using a long scarf that Marya had shown her how to tie around the baby, and quietly left the room. She just gave Gendry a quick kiss on the forehead before heading out.
If only she had known how long it would be until she kissed him again.
Meera had longed for her hunting trips while they had been at Cape Wrath. Out in the woods she felt in her element, she felt like herself, she felt free. She was a mother now, but she was still Meera. She was still the same as she had always been, and in the woods, she truly felt that. Hopefully, Joreen would experience the same connection when she got older.
So with her baby fastly secured to her chest, a quiver and arrows on her back, and her spear in her hand, Meera made her way to the woods. Even at this early hours the bushes and fields were full of life and sounds. Birds chirped in the trees, rabbits scurried in the grass, insects buzzed in the air.
And a baby wailed on her chest.
Joreen seemed to have liked the experience at first but she was definitely not enjoying it anymore.
Meera sat down on a log and loosened the baby from her restraints. Joreen immediately quieted down.
"You just want to move your little arms and legs around, don't you, Jory?" Meera said to the little girl who laid on the scarf in the grass in front of her. She grabbed Joreen's arms and helped her flap them around like little wings. Joreen giggled in excitement.
Then Meera heard a sound. Just a hint at first. A branch that broke. Then footsteps. Voices.
Meera grabbed her spear. She let Joreen stay on the ground so she could have her hands free.
A man stepped into the clearing. Tall, bearded, and with an ominous smile on his lips. She had seen him before, in the capital. Ser Bronn, the king's trusted commander. A couple of more men stepped out behind him.
"Lady Baratheon," he said. "Just who I was looking for."
"What are you doing here?" Meera asked. Fear stirred in her body but she did her best not to show it. "How did you get into the Stormlands? My husband enforced the border."
"I have my ways to get where I want," Bronn replied with a smirk. "There are many roads into the Stormlands and your husband doesn't have the soldiers to protect them all."
Meera heard Joreen starting to cry behind her. The cry cut right to Meera's heart and made tears fall down her cheeks. Joreen was so vulnerable and innocent. But she couldn't console her daughter right now.
"So what are you doing here?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"I've come to take you to the king," Bronn replied in an ominous tone.
"Well, I'm not going with you," she said and pointed her spear towards his throat. "I'm not going to him."
"I think you will. You will drop that spear on the ground because otherwise, my men will put an arrow into your daughter's skull."
The men behind him lifted their bows and aimed towards Joreen. Meera wanted to scream, but she didn't. She wanted to throw herself in front of those arrows, but she didn't. Because she knew she needed to act calmly to save her daughter.
With an audible thump, Meera dropped her spear. There was no other option.
But at that moment she saw something, a movement in the trees on the hill above the meadow. A faint sliver of hope.
Bronn was soon at Meera's side and brusquely pulled her hands behind her back. It hurt. Then he muffled her and put a bag over her head. All she could hear was the scream of her daughter. It cut through everything. It made her whole body ache. It made her unable to stop crying.
"Please don't take my daughter," she said through tears. "Leave her alone."
"As you wish, Lady Baratheon," Bronn replied. "The wolves will get to her soon enough anyway."
The wolves were many in these woods. Meera knew that. She knew that a baby would have no chance against them. But yet she had to ask Bronn to leave the girl. Because she had seen the trees move.
"Are you not going kill the girl?" she heard one of the men ask Bronn. "The king told you to."
"I've done many despicable things in my life," Bronn replied with a sigh. "But I won't kill a baby with my own hands. She'll perish in the woods anyway."
Meera could hear the screams for a long while as Bronn led her away. Joreen was left all alone in the forest, and she was scared. The screams cut into her mother's heart like a sharp dagger. Relentless and painful.
Eventually, Meera couldn't hear the screams anymore. All she could do was hope she was right about the trees.
Notes:
Only one chapter left of part 2! It's the moment this whole part has built toward... I plan to have that up tomorrow
Chapter 45: The fury
Summary:
Gendry finds out what has happened to his wife and plans for retaliation.
This is where it starts.
This is Gendry's Rebellion.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Someone did her Joreen's screams. A ten-year-old boy with a penchant for climbing trees.
Steffon saw Meera leave the castle that morning and decided to follow her to the woods. But once he was out there he was unable to find them. So he climbed a high tree to survey the area. That's when he saw them, in a meadow below the hill on which the tree stood. He saw Lady Baratheon and Joreen, and saw the men who took Lady Baratheon away.
Steffon was too little to fight them. All he could do was watch. And he watched intently. He saw the grey direwolf emblazoned on the men's armor. He knew who they served. These were the king's men.
When the men had left Steffon hesitated for a moment. He wagered if he should run back to Storm's End for help. It wasn't very far and the meadow was the other way. His father and Lord Baratheon would know what to do. But the screams from the upset child called on him. He couldn't leave Joreen out there for a moment longer than necessary. Perhaps the wolves would get to the lonely child before he could return for her.
So the boy quickly scaled down the tree and silently made his way to the meadow in the cover of grass and bushes. He wanted to be sure none of the king's men were left behind. The screams guided his way there as he crouched down in the vegetation. As long as the girl screamed she was still alive.
When he arrived at the meadow it appeared empty, except for the screaming baby. Her cries for her mother grew more and more desperate.
Steffon looked both ways one more time, to be absolutely sure no one was there, before he exited the bushes and made his way to the girl.
"Hi Jory," he said and softly stroked the girl's cheek to try to calm her down. "Don't worry. I'm here now."
The girl got quiet for a moment as she looked up at Steffon suspiciously. Then she continued to scream at the top of her lung's capacity.
Steffon held his nephew Mathos quite often, so he wasn't unaccustomed to handling babies. But they usually weren't as upset at this one. Her little arms and legs punched and kicked at him as he gathered the blanket around her and lift to her to his chest.
"I'll protect you," he whispered and tried to calm the girl by rocking her back and forth slightly.
Steffon would protect Joreen. He would protect her for the rest of his life. He would one day swear an oath to protect her.
The girl settled down slightly from the embrace. She still wailed but her body felt a bit more relaxed. Her arms and legs were no longer flailing wildly.
"Let's go," Steffon said. "Let's take you to your father. He'll know what to do."
***
Gendry heard the scream of his child reverberate the castle. He sat in the Great Hall with Davos, Howland, Stannis, and Bastian. They were just about to start today's council meeting and he figured his wife and Joreen had just got back from the woods. Meera had left a note telling him where they had gone and he trusted her to take care of herself and the girl.
Then the doors to the hall flew open, and his whole world shattered.
Panting and dirty, Steffon Seaworth fell on the floor in front of the main table. The little girl in his arms screamed furiously.
"They took her....." the boy managed to get out before having to catch his breath again.
Dread sunk in Gendry's stomach. He couldn't quite put everything together. But he knew his child was there and his wife wasn't. Something was very wrong.
Davos got up from the table and walked up to his son. Howland followed suit. Gendry was frozen in place.
"Breath, son," Davos said as he kneeled beside the boy and put his arm over Steffon's shoulder. Having his father close seemed to calm the boy slightly and he released his tight grip on the girl in his arms. Davos gently took the girl from his son and handed her to her grandfather.
"Give her to me," Gendry said. As the fear spread through his body he needed to have his daughter close. He needed to know she was safe at least.
Howland went around the table and put Joreen in Gendry's lap. He knew Gendry couldn't pick her up himself because of his injured arm. The tense expression on Howland's face made the dread in Gendry's stomach sink even more. They both loved Meera, and they knew something must have happened to her. She wouldn't leave her daughter.
"Come here, Jory," Gendry said and held the crying girl tightly to his chest. It seemed like they both needed the comfort.
Joreen kept crying loudly. Her whole little body was tense and anxious. Even as Gendry rocked and kissed her she wouldn't settle down.
"I think she needs to nurse to calm down," he said. "That usually works". His heart dropped as he realized the girl's mother wasn't there to feed her.
"I'll get Brynda," Stannis quickly said, having already assessed the situation. "She should be able to feed Joreen as well. She's started to wean Mathos and feed him solid food since he's so hungry all the time."
While Stannis left the room Davos bent down towards the now sobbing Steffon. Whatever had happened seemed to have traumatized the boy.
"Come here, son," Davos said and lifted his son. "Just calm down and tell us what happened."
He sat down on the table with Steffon in his arms. The boy cried against his shoulder.
"The king's men," Steffon finally said. "I saw them. They came and took Lady Baratheon with them. They threatened Lady Joreen to make her go with them."
The news hit Gendry harder than the hammer strike that had brought him down. But he didn't cry, he didn't scream, even if he wanted to, he just held on to his daughter. That was all he could do. But inside of him, the fury grew.
"I'll get her back," he mumbled as he put his face against his daughter's head. Joreen seemed to be exhausted from crying. Only light whimpers escaped her little body. "I'll get your mother back. No matter what it takes. I promise you that."
Gendry knew what he would have to do. It was time. It was his destiny.
He inhaled, kissed his daughter's tangled curls, and looked up. Blue eyes determined and furious.
"Call my banners," Gendry commanded. "Call all my soldiers here. I will address them this afternoon in the courtyard. I will tell everyone what I intend to do. I won't let the king get away with this."
"I will make sure your will is done, Lord Baratheon," Bastian said and left the room to execute Gendry's order. Most of the Baratheon armies were still stationed close by since the battle to retake the castle.
Howland put his hand on his son-in-law's shoulder. "You'll do it?" he asked and tousled Joreen's dark curls with his other hand. Her hair looked just like her mother's. Gendry could see the tears in Howland's eyes as he looked at the girl.
"I will," Gendry said. "I have to. I have to get her back."
"I'll be with you," his father-in-law replied. "Just like I was with your father."
***
The rain poured down relentlessly over Storm's End that afternoon. The courtyard was filled with muddy puddles and the sky was dark grey. Thunder was in the air and lighting was seen in the distance.
Gendry had barely let his daughter out of his grasp since that morning, except to let Brynda nurse the girl when she got hungry. Eventually, Joreen had calmed down and fell asleep in his arms. Now Gendry handed the sleeping girl to her grandfather before he stepped out on the stairs to address his men. He didn't notice the miserable weather. The fury burned too hot in his veins for him to feel the cold drops on his skin.
Gendry Baratheon had never looked so much like his father as he did when he stepped out on those stairs. He was fueled by fury and love, just like Robert once had been.
He wasn't nervous. He didn't doubt himself. He didn't feel inferior to anyone.
He was calm. He was assured. He was confident.
"Stormlanders," he said, as water drops fell on his face and limbs. "I address you today to tell you about a grave injustice that has been committed by the man who rules this kingdom. He has taken my wife from me. His men abducted Lady Baratheon when she was out in the woods outside the castle."
The men in front of him gasped and whispered. They had known the king wasn't on their side, but not that he would do something like this.
"I will take her back," Gendry continued, his voice bellowing over the pouring rain. "The king has no right to take my wife, he has no right to rule us anymore, he has no right to tell us what to do. We're the Stormlands and he can't trample all over us. We're stronger than that. I'm convinced the other kingdoms will follow suit and join me in the battle against him. Because he's not a fair or kind ruler. He's not the right ruler for this kingdom."
The rain picked up. Lighting and thunder roared over the sea beyond the castle.
"I will take him down," he yelled over the loud weather. "I will take his crown. I will take his throne. I will take his power. I will take everything from him."
Gendry paused slightly, realizing the magnitude of what he was about to say. But he knew it was what he needed to do. It was the only way to get Meera back. It was the only way to protect his daughter. It was the only way to bring peace to the kingdom.
He raised his war hammer in the air. Still with his left hand, as the right arm wasn't strong enough yet. But he looked strong. He looked magnificent.
Hammer in his hand. Love in his heart. Fury in his eyes.
The sky behind him exploded in a thunderous roar. The crowd in front of him cheered as loud as the storm.
The storm was on his side. He was the storm.
Then he said the words. Gendry Baratheon, a poor bastard child from Fleabottom, said words he never thought he would say. Words that his father had said before him. Words that sounded ridiculous. But he said them. He said them for Meera. For their love. For their children.
"And I will be your king," he said while yellow bursts of light took over the dark grey sky.
Notes:
So this is the end of part 2. This is the moment part 1 and part 2 have built toward. This was actually one of the first moments in my head when I started writing this story. One day, Gendry would have to stand in the courtyard of Storm's End, with the storm roaring behind him, and proclaim his intention to walk in his father's footsteps toward the capital. He would have to start Gendry's Rebellion (that's the unofficial subtitle for part 3).
I'm afraid there will be a bit of a break before I start to publish part 3, as I got sidetracked by some original stories when I should have been writing it... But my plan is to start publishing it during the fall of 2021. I already have some stuff written and I will probably put out the chapters here as I go (as opposed to what I have been doing, since part 1 and part 2 were already written when I started publishing them on AO3, although I did publish them in real-time on Wattpad).
But don't worry about the story becoming abandoned. This will happen. The Stormlands will march. A war will commence. A king will fall.
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