Right
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to G.R.R. Martin
01. Reuniting
Gendry
During time of war, nothing is ever right. Villages burn, families are torn apart, and thousands of men die, only grieved by a young widow and her starving children. And it is never right. But as Ser Gendry Baratheon rested his gaze on his queen, he could not deny how right it felt in this moment, and how right it looked, her silvery hair cascading down her back as she rigidly sat atop the throne her ancestors had sat upon. She looked like she belonged there, and it felt right.
The War of the Five Kings had lasted years, even after most of the contenders had perished. It had begun when Gendry was five-and-ten and had raged for five years, leaving worried creases prematurely on Gendry's face at the age of twenty.
In the end, it had come down to the Lannisters occupying the Red Keep, and their allies, against Daenerys Targaryan, her army, and her three dragons. Claiming King's Landing had been easier than anticipated (largely due to Daenerys' dragons). Uniting Westeros under the Targaryan banner had proven to be more difficult. It had been three moons since King's Landing had been taken, but unrest around Westeros had been fueled by years of bloodshed and misery and royal houses seemed to be continuing the fight simply because they'd forgotten how to do anything else.
Many houses were still fighting for their lands and their people; House Tully and House Stark doing the majority of the fighting. Queen Daenerys desperately desired to send armies to settle lasting disputes, but her advisers were taking their time deciding the best course of action when it came to disbanding armies and settling lands.
Gendry thought it was easy; give the Starks and Tullys the land that was theirs by right and threaten any who did not comply. The knight had even suggested as much to his queen, but she had only smiled with troubled, amethyst-colored eyes and gently squeezed his hand. Gendry couldn't see what was wrong with his plan, but maybe that was why he was a knight and not a diplomat. He preferred to solve problems with his war hammer, not his words. He'd never been proficient with words.
And that was why Gendry Baratheon stood behind his queen, dressed in white, his arms folded behind his back, while her advisers sat to the side of her. Although, that was not strictly true. Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen, sat beside the Targaryan. Her other trusted adviser, Ser Barristan Selmy, stood behind the queen with Gendry, positioned on the other side of the throne. Queen Daenerys had offered to reinstate Ser Barristan as captain of the Queen's Guard, but he had declined, wishing for nothing more than to counsel his young queen. This was why, Gendry supposed, he was the one dressed in white.
If Gendry had been told, even two years earlier, that he would be the captain of the Queen's Guard, he would have laughed; possibly so hard he would have fallen to the ground, knocking his head and blacking out. It was such an unreachable fate for someone like Gendry, the bastard son of a dead usurper who had grown up in Flea's Bottom, that the idea had never even crossed his mind. But here he was, dressed in white as he surveyed the largest throne room in the world, having been granted the last name of a house all but dead, but that lived forever in history.
Gendry could have laughed right there and then, but he caught himself. He had thought about his current situation thousands of times, and he still could not believe he was where he was, and he was who he was. And he would think about it again, but later. Currently, he was meant to be watching for danger that might present itself to the queen. There was always a threat for anyone who sat upon a seat of power, but with all the changes Queen Daenerys had made, simply by taking her rightful place as ruler of Westeros, the Targaryan had painted a large target on her back for those threaten by change, and those removed from power.
Thus far, only one incident had arisen when a crazed nobleman cut from power attempted to assassinate Daenerys. He had been run through with a dozen blades before he could even taken a single step with his drawn sword. Since, there had not been any kind of attempt on the queen's life with a blade, or poison. At Lord Tyrion's suggestion, the queen chose Tommen Lannister, formerly known as King Tommen Baratheon, to be her food taster. His job was to taste all of Queen Daenerys' food and drink to ensure it had not been tampered with. Tommen had accepted the position after being told his alternative was certain death.
Like all days since the last failed assassination attempt, the day passed without incident. The entire afternoon had been spent in the throne room. Daenerys and her closest members of her council spent most of their time here, as well as crowded around a table deep in discussion and debate in an otherwise quiet room. Mostly, Gendry just had to stand tall and remain alert. Occasionally he would need to remove an agitated citizen, but even that was easy. Queen Daenerys had the hard job of listening to the grievances of, what seemed like, all of Westeros, and answering their pleas.
Gendry was awed by how the queen could so patiently perform this particular duty. More often than he would care to admit, Gendry would let his eyes instinctively look for danger while letting his mind wander. If Ser Barristan ever found out, Gendry would barely have time to gulp before there would be a sword at his throat.
But this was just an example of why Gendry did not envy Daenerys' position. Even after he had discovered who his father was, it had never crossed his mind to vie for the throne. Not that he would have gotten far if he had. The war had killed more important men than him. But he had been more than honored to fight for Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons.
Before the black-haired knight could lose himself in his memories, the last petitioner was sent from the room and Queen Daenerys let out a long sigh. She got to her feet, stretching sore muscles. At this time of day, the council would normally meet in a solar, usually within the library if Tyrion could choose. Often, they would all take a hurried supper right there as they poured over maps and scrolls. This evening, the silver-haired queen had other plans.
"My friends," she smiled, glancing to each in turn. "You have all worked so hard. I am grateful for all you have done. There is much more to do, but tonight I wish for you all to rest. Take your supper where you please. I will see you all at sunrise."
Everyone bowed to their queen before going their separate ways. Gendry remained, as his duty was to escort the queen.
Daenerys threaded her arm around Gendry's. "Will you walk with me, Ser?"
"Where to, your grace?"
"My bedchamber."
Gendry bowed his head in understanding and escorted his queen to her chambers. He knew the routine well enough, but tonight he was in for a surprise. He stopped in front of the door to the royal bedchamber, waiting for Daenerys to step away, but she did not.
"I would like to speak with you in private," she said kindly, yet it was a demand. Gendry barely had time to nod before Daenerys pushed open her door and strolled inside, Gendry following behind.
Gendry had never been in the queen's chambers. He'd never been inside any royal sleeping quarters in his life. But he had to assume this was as grand as a bedchamber could be.
The room was at least a forth of the size of the throne room; which was, if Tyrion was to be believed, the largest throne room in Westeros. It was separated into smaller areas: the actual bed area, a place for bathing and dressing, and even a separate solar. The room was adorned with Targaryan colors and fine silks.
Daenerys walked over to a set of plush chairs separated by a small, wooden table. An ewer sat upon the table top as well as two goblets and a plate of cheese and grapes.
"Where is Missandei?" Gendry asked., following his queen, referring to the servant/adviser who rarely left her queen's side.
"I told her to take a break as well," Daenerys said warmly. "Would you care for wine?"
"No thank you, your grace."
Daenerys nodded, pouring wine into a golden goblet for herself before taking a seat upon one of the chairs. Taking a delicate sip of wine, she then waved a hand at the other chair, indicating that the knight should be seated.
Nervously, Gendry did as bid. Having grown up in Flea's Bottom, he had not yet learned all that was proper in the world of royalty. Still, Gendry felt uncomfortable sitting in his queen's chambers being offered wine.
"I won't keep you waiting," Daenerys smiled over her goblet. Gendry hoped his anxiety wasn't radiating off of him so much so that his queen could read him. If she could, she didn't comment on it. "As you're well aware, Westeros is still torn."
"Yes, your grace."
"There are still loyalists to the usurpers. Until they can be persuaded to live under my rule, Westeros will not have peace."
"Do you have a plan, your grace?" Gendry asked, curious about her intentions and why she was bringing them to him and not her advisers.
Daenerys took a sip of wine. "To cease the turmoil immediately? No. But there may be something I can do to ease the tension, but I require your help."
"Me, your grace?" Gendry echoed, bewildered. What could he possibly do?
The queen smiled, setting her goblet on the table. "Yes, Ser Gendry, you. You have been legitimized as a Baratheon, a link to the loyalists. I need you to marry me."
Gendry remained silent. He stared, rather dumbly, at his lovely queen's face. Had he heard her correctly? He couldn't have. Yet, Daenerys sat, patiently watching Gendry and her words finally sank in. Gendry's face changed from confusion, to disbelief, to horror.
Before Gendry's mind could command his lips to move, Daenerys spoke up. "I know it is quite the decision, and I would understand your rejection. All I ask is that you think on it."
Gendry feared his jaw was on the floor. He was still trying to fathom that the queen of Westeros would want to marry him. Not only that, but that she seemed to be reading his response as offended and maybe disgusted. In truth, Gendry was horrified that the beautiful Targaryan queen would be stuck with him, a bastard-born knight.
Before Gendry could transfer his thoughts into coherent words, Daenerys was rising to her feet and moving to the door of her chambers. Without thinking about his actions (there was no room for such superfluous thoughts in his head currently), Gendry followed his queen, suddenly finding himself outside of her room in the hall.
"I do not require an answer immediately. Now, please, get rest. I will see you on the morrow."
The door closed and just like that, Gendry was alone with his swirling thoughts.
Daenerys
Daenerys caught the bewilderment written on Ser Gendry's face before the door closed between them. She leaned her forehead against the wooden door. There was a long moment of silence before Dany could hear the heavy footfalls of the knight move away down the corridor. Only then did Dany let out a long sigh.
Pushing away from the door, Dany made her way back to her abandoned wine goblet. She plucked it from the table and took a long swallow of the wine before grasping the cup with both hands and making her way to the balcony. She stepped outside and leaned against the railing. It was a warm evening, like many were in King's Landing, but there was a slight breeze in the air that pushed away the humidity. Taking a sip of wine, the newly minted queen let her mind wander to the events of the last twenty minutes.
Dany had not told Ser Barristan or Lord Tyrion about her plan to propose to Ser Gendry, despite the fact she'd been entertaining the idea for months. She rarely did much without consulting her two most trusted advisers. That didn't mean she always followed their advice, but she appreciated their wisdom and opinions and tended to use them to shape her own decisions. So why had she chosen to forgo their advice on this occasion?
In all honesty, she was unsure. She was confident that the plan had reasonable political gains. She thought it was a plan that her advisers might even appreciate. However, she also questioned whether the opinions of the two men might be biased. Ser Barristan had been loyal to her family for decades and it was Ser Gendry's house that had destroyed their dynasty. And Lord Tyrion was cynical of political marriages, as it was his own sister who had murdered her husband, the usurper, and effectively started the War of the Five Kings.
Ser Gendry, however, seemed to be nothing like his father, at least the stories she had heard about Robert Baratheon. Ser Gendry was loyal to a fault and she did not fear losing her reign at his hands. Also, she could not deny he was certainly easy on the eyes with his tall, broad stature, jet black hair, and deep blue eyes that reminded her of sapphires.
Daenerys had plenty of time to tell her advisers, as she had not expected an immediate answer from the knight. And if he did accept, it would take some time to plan a wedding. After all, it would need to be a ridiculously grand event in order to publicly display her position.
There was also the expectation that, after she was wed, she was to quickly find herself with child. With her rule so new and with turmoil still as fierce as ever among the more northern houses, Dany was weary of needing to take a back seat in fixing her kingdom to see to her baby. It was also unknown to Dany whether she could have a child. All the years ago, Mirri Maz Duur has told Daenerys a chain of events needed to pass before her womb could quicken once more. She thought perhaps, she had reached the time where she could once again bear a living child, but the uncertainty made her uneasy.
Daenerys sighed again, emptying her goblet of wine with another drink. She told herself, once again, that she had time. Ser Gendry was not likely to have an answer for her within the next few days, and she would speak to her advisers before any marriage plans would be created. She would make a definite decision when the time was right.
Gendry
The next morning, the queen and her council met in Tyrion's large solar, breaking their fast on blood sausages and gull's eggs. Ser Barristan had escorted her majesty to the room this morning so Gendry had arrived early and alone. Tyrion had questioned Gendry about his punctuation with a raised eyebrow, but the knight said nothing.
In truth, Gendry's early arrival had been brought on by his anxiety over seeing the queen. He knew it was idiotic. After all, Daenerys hadn't confessed her love to him. Her marriage proposal was strictly a political move, and he knew this. Still, Gendry felt a sense akin to awkwardness. He really was stupid.
As Gendry chewed his food, listening to the light banter around him, he wondered if Queen Daenerys had told Tyrion or Ser Barristan, or anyone about her plan. If she had, no one mentioned it. Daenerys herself acted no differently to him than she normally would. And of course she wouldn't.
"We do have a pressing matter today, your grace," Tyrion announced as the council finished their meal and the plates were taken away.
"What is it?" the queen asked.
Tyrion reached in front of him, grabbing a scroll, and handed it to the queen. As she unrolled the parchment, he explained the contents. "This came by raven early this morning. It says a messenger from the north will be here today to seek your audience."
Daenerys' eyes scanned the scroll before nodding, seemingly deep in thought. "The seal, it's a wolf."
"A direwolf," Tyrion nodded.
"A messenger from Winterfell," Gendry whispered under his breath. Although the name had been mentioned countless times in meetings just like this, this particular time, it sent a shiver down Gendry's spine. This time, the name brought a flood of images of a young girl with silvery eyes rushing through his mind.
"Yes," Tyrion said, making Gendry start as he realized he must not have been as quiet as he thought. "Perhaps their situation has worsened without our knowing. The letter does not explain much."
Daenerys nodded. "Very well. Please ensure that the messenger will be the first petition I hear this morning."
"Yes, your grace," Tyrion responded, quickly scribbling down presumably a note to himself on the nearest piece of parchment.
"I will see you all in the throne room," Daenerys said, rising to her feet. "This first petition is of the utmost importance and I will need you all present."
There was a chorus of acceptance before Dany bowed her head momentarily and swept from the room, Ser Barristan taking it upon himself to escort the queen. Once they had left the room, Tyrion raised an eyebrow in Gendry's direction.
"What do you know of sigils and houses?" he asked curiously.
It was common knowledge that Gendry had been base-born, raised to a knight by the Brotherhood without Banners, then raised to captain of the Queen's Guard by Queen Daenerys herself. With the current state of the kingdom, Gendry had not been given the opportunity to learn what other knights had been taught. He could read at a basic level, and he was in tune with his instincts to make him an effective warrior. But knowledge on royal houses, their sigils and their history was lost to the man, or at least Tyrion had assumed there had been no time for such lessons. And yet, he knew the sigil of a nearly desecrated house.
Gendry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had never confided in anyone that he had known Arya Stark. The Brotherhood without Banners had known her identity, but by no fault of his own. The royal court assumed, as the court before them had, that Arya Stark was dead. There had been word that the Boltons, who currently annexed Winterfell, had wed Arya to Ramsay Bolton, the son of Roose Bolton, but it was now common knowledge that the wedding had been a farce.
Gendry had not informed his new company of his past with Arya Stark because he, too, assumed that she had perished. Though not on the streets of King's Landing as many believed, but at the hands of the Hound, who had kidnapped her. At the thought of it, Gendry's stomach bubbled with rage and grief and his heart felt heavy with guilt, so he quickly pushed aside the thoughts.
"I lived in Flea's Bottom. We learned quickly about Eddard Stark being executed for treason," Gendry supplied instead.
"He wasn't a traitor," Tyrion mused almost absentmindedly.
A memory flashed through Gendry's mind. A young girl, her grimy face contorted in anger and conviction, screaming: "He was never a traitor!"
"I know..." Gendry said quietly. Before Tyrion could question him on his knowledge of that, the knight got to his feet, bound for the throne room.
Light filtered into the throne room from the high windows positioned around the room. It made the Targaryan banners hung around the room seem more prominent than ever. Yet less prominent than the queen who sat regally upon her throne, dressed in a simple white dress. But her amethyst-colored eyes were intense as they rested on the lone figured who knelt before her.
"Please, rise," Daenerys bid the messenger, and they did just that.
Their awaited arrival was a woman. She was short in stature, much shorter than the queen, and while she wore a gray cloak over her form, Gendry was able to tell she was lean. Her blonde hair was braided and hung over one shoulder. Her face was plain, but clean, as she must have done her best to wash herself of the grime of her travel to address the queen. What struck Gendry, however, were her eyes. They were piercing and calculating and a very definitive color: steely gray.
The woman's eyes passed over the others in the throne room one at a time, never lingering on a single face for longer than a second. But when they passed over Gendry, his heart stopped, and he felt as though she wasn't merely glancing at him in turn, but staring at him, piercing him, analyzing him.
He'd seen these eyes before. He'd seen them filled with grief, and fear, and determination. He'd seen them in his dreams, and in his nightmares. He'd seem them in the face of Arya Stark.
But this couldn't be Arya Stark. Granted, the little girl he had once known would be a woman grown now, at least six and ten. But he knew these features were not ones she would have grown into. The face was completely wrong. And her hair had not been blonde, but a dark brown.
The woman's eyes left Gendry and moved back to the queen, making Gendry feel slightly shaken. He knew her eyes couldn't have been on his longer than a heartbeat, but he felt like it had been minutes with all the thoughts that had been rushing through his mind at once. He knew this woman could not be Arya Stark, Arry the orphan boy, or lumpy head; but then, why did he feel as though he'd just seen a ghost?
It was only when Gendry noticed that the two females had exchanged their pleasantries that Gendry snapped himself out of his thoughts and trained his attention on his queen and their visitor.
"How can I assist you?" Daenerys asked. Gendry knew the queen's desire to help the north was sincere, as ending the dispute was the only way to begin bringing peace to all of Westeros.
"What I am about to reveal to you must be kept in utmost secrecy, your grace," said the girl, her face serious.
Daenerys' face hardened and she nodded.
The woman took a moment of silence before continuing. "The Starks are planning on retaking Winterfell."
"The Starks?" Tyrion asked in surprise from his seat to Daenerys' right. "But the Starks-"
"Are not all gone," the girl said shortly, cutting of the Hand. "Jon Snow, Lord Eddard's son is planning an attack on the Boltons. Sansa Stark is in his company."
"Sansa!?" Tyrion breathed. This earned him a sharp glance from the messenger.
"How is this possible?" asked the queen.
"It is not in my position to say," the messenger replied. "But they have sent me in their stead to plead for your assistance. The north can only be united under a Stark banner. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."
Daenerys was not educated on this familiar phrase among the northerners, but Tyrion knew it well enough. He also knew how true this was. Once the Starks had been removed from Winterfell and the family scattered and most presumed dead, the north had been thrown into chaos.
"This Jon Snow, is he Eddard Stark's bastard son?" Daenerys asked.
The messenger seemed to bristle as she answered through gritted teeth. "He is just as much a Stark as his sister, Sansa."
"Just so," Daenerys nodded and the tension seemed to immediately leave the woman. "What I need to know, is what sort of leader he is. You understand that a weak leader could only cause the north to return to its current state."
The woman nodded. "He was a very adept lord commander of the Night's Watch."
"Lord commander?" Tyrion's eyes narrowed. "How is it he is no longer lord commander, and alive?"
The woman's lips curled into a shadow of a smirk. "It's a long story."
Daenerys nodded, understanding this was much too complicated of a situation to be decided upon in the throne room. "Please, stay here as my honored guest. We will speak on this matter this evening."
"Thank you, your grace," the blonde woman bowed her head.
Daenerys nodded her head and summoned Missandei forward. The girl met the northern messenger and said a few quiet words to her before gently taking her arm and escorting her from the room. As they passed Gendry on their way to the back of the room, the northerner glanced to the knight. Gendry's breath caught in his throat. There they were, the pools of molten silver, filled with a very familiar emotion. Then the girl glanced away, and she was gone within the halls of the Red Keep.
Who could she be? Who was the girl who looked like a stranger but shared the eyes of a grubby urchin he once knew? Who was this girl who look wrong, but whose eyes just looked...right?
Author's Note
I'm super nervous about this. The longer I worked on this, the more I hated it, but please let me know what you readers think! Please, let me know what you think of this! Should I even continue?
Also, for the life of me, I could not think of a decent picture for this story. If anyone has any better ideas that does not include me stealing someone's excellent fanart, please, let me know.
Thank you for reading! Much love!