A/N: Am currently obsessed with GoT and need to get some of this out of my system.

I've read what happens in the books but not actually read them, so this will be quite AU and will be based more on the TV series than the books. Five years have passed since the season two final and what's happened during those five years will be explained throughout the story. Much like the books it has an ensemble of characters with POV chapters. There's sort of three different pairings going on here too but I'll let you figure them out. )

XXXX

Prologue:

The Bastard King

304 AL

Although he sat in the Iron Throne, with a golden crown and robes made of fine silk, he did not feel like a king. He was still the bastard who had grown up on the streets, still the apprentice blacksmith whose master tossed him aside, still the young lad with grubby fingernails making his way to the Wall.

It was not eight months ago that Joffrey Lannister was poisoned and his mother and siblings imprisoned. Not eight months ago Stannis Baratheon –his uncle- became king and had Cersei Lannister hanged for incest and treason. Seeing as Myrcella had already been sold to a noble family to help the war effort, Stannis' only concern was Tommen. The boy was lucky. At an age of four and ten he was more than of age to be sent to the Wall to train for the Night's Watch, which the townsfolk felt was only just, but instead Stannis simply stripped him of his title as Lord and sent him to live with his uncle Tyrion, the imp.

Gendry still remembered the day Stannis sent his men in search of him all across Westeros. He'd escaped Harrenhall by then with Arya and Hot Pie and was found by the Brotherhood without Banners. He remembered how he felt upon hearing how much they loathed the Lannisters, how they were seeking vengeance for King Robert and Eddard Stark, how they were there to protect the weak and innocent.

In the name of Seven Hells, he truly believed in them.

The young king shivered. The memory of Lady Catelyn Stark's undead face still haunted him. When he saw what the Brotherhood had done, how they had raised her from the grave without a single thought to the consequences, he knew he had to leave. He had no reason to stay, Arya had fled and Beric Dondorian was dead and had died quite a few times mind you.

Gendry was still uncertain how he felt about them. Of course, it did not matter now that they had long been disbanded with many of the members killed by Stannis' men.

He was picked up by his uncle's men within a few weeks and brought back to Kings Landing. Gendry was surprised at how reasonable Stannis was. No, he wasn't the nicest person and by the Old Gods and the New was he miserable, but he knew right from wrong –which was better than what he could say for many of the people he'd met.

Ser Gendry Waters soon learnt a great deal more about his father than he had ever dared to hope.

In the two months that followed he spent his time with Stannis, learning the ways of court life and developing strategies to win the war and hold the throne. They started by trying to win the favour of the people of the North by publicly hunting down and executing Theon Greyjoy for the murder of Bran and Rickon Stark. Within hours of the hanging, Northerners were making their way to King's Landing to pledge their allegiance to the king and within days they were sent to war.

There was his uncle with over forty thousand man on one side and Aeron Greyjoy with only twenty-eight on the other. Though the battle was won, Stannis was left with his body scattered across the battlefield…there wasn't even enough of him to hold a funeral worthy of a king.

It had been two weeks since Gendry Waters had become King Gendry Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms, two weeks since the crown had first been set onto his head by the Grand Maester and still he did not feel worthy.

The feeling was to strengthen when she walked into the room.

She had grown he could see and would no longer be able to pass for a boy, with her dark hair tied into a long braid at the back, her pudgy cheeks gone and her jawline more defined, sharp and strong as she was. Lower down sat a pair of small budding bosoms. She hid her curves well too by wearing a loose light blue shirt and brown waist coat. Despite all her attempts to hide her femininity, there was no denying she'd become a woman and yet at the same time she was still very much the girl he remembered. The girl with large grey eyes that shone and glared much like the steel in his old workshop, eyes that contradicted her small, angelic face.

Gendry couldn't help the smile that graced his lips at the sight of her, not only because he'd forgotten how beautiful she was but also because in these brief moments, he had come to realise how much he had longed to see her.

"Ah, long time no see, milady." He said as he rose from the throne and made his way down the steps to great her.

Arya cocked a single bushy brow and waited until he was within four feet of her to pull out her sword. This one was long and thin just like Needle, made of fine silver with an ever-so-slight curve that was distinctly Braavos. The tip of the blade met with his neck. Her hand was wrapped around the hilt lightly as though it were a feather, her grip was steady and she applied just the right amount of pressure to cause discomfort but not to fatally wound.

The people of the throne room gasped and fell silent as they watched Lady Arya of House Stark threaten their king.

"You and I are no longer allies, Gendry." Her tone was deadly serious, and he felt his heart sink like a stone in the Narrow Sea at her merciless tone, "I know what you are to ask of me and I came to tell you myself that I won't be your Hand nor will I acknowledge you as King."

She took a step back and sheathed her sword. Gendry frowned. He should have known she wouldn't forgive him his misjudgement.

If there was one thing he had learnt about her during their time, it was that she held grudges and her enemies often had short lives. He supposed he had held a flicker of hope in his heart that she would not blame him or that if she did she would come, in time, to understand that his intentions were good. Honourable. He had prayed to every God he knew of, that she would know that what did he did to protect her, to help her, to give her closure in the death of her family.

Nothing he had done in those dark weeks four years ago was to hurt her. He would have given his life if it had meant someone else sparing hers.

"You may do as Joffrey did to my father and behead me for treason, if you wish, but I will not bow. Not to you."

Gendry hung his head, eyes closed and brow furrowed; he could not find the words to stress how sorry he was. He also could not believe she would ever think he could merely stand here and order his men to kill her. For without her, he had no-one. She was his only remaining true friend.

And even she wanted to kill him.

"I left them." He whispered, his blue eyes meeting her fierce grey ones, "As soon as I learnt the truth, I left them."

Arya shook her head, her hands at her side shaking, but with fear or anger he did not know.

"They kept me prisoner!" she snapped, "They raised my mother from the dead and allowed her corpse to ride through the town to murder anyone whom she deemed worthy of it! They soiled her name! My family's name!"

Her words were spat with more fire than the flames of wildfire, with more venom than the greatest snake known to man and they cut him deeper than any sword could have, spewing his emotions rather than his blood.

"Arya, please! I was foolish to trust them, I know that now."

Gendry watched her carefully, his eyes searching her face for any sign of understanding. There was none. She remained silent, her features still as stone. Arya looked to her left -something she only did when she was feeling conflicted. Had he finally gotten through to her? Did she believe him? Could she see now how much he ached to mend their broken friendship?

Arya did not move. She did nothing but gaze after him with a tight-knit brow and lips turned down at the corners.

And thus he took off his crown and sank to his knees. Her eyes shot wide open, she sucked in a breath, releasing it hastily. Gendry set his crown on the stone floor of the throne-room, arms spread out wide. He did not dare to hope to hold her like he had only moments before, he merely wanted to make her listen to his plea.

Yes, King Gendry Baratheon the First of His Name was begging before the court.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, her eyes darting around the room.

Any other time he would have smirked at her discomfort, perhaps even teased her for it. He couldn't do that now, not when their friendship was clearly hanging by a thread. He did not even care now whether she agreed to be his Hand or not, so long as he could still call her his dear friend.

"Begging you to listen to me, that's what." He said in that low, serious tone of his, "My judgement was clouded. I wronged your family because of it, but I swear by the Gods and the Seven Kingdoms that I did not know what they were doing." He blew out a breath, "I thought I was doing right by you and your family. Forgive me."

He bowed his head to her apologetically, awaiting her answer.

"Your Grace," came Lord Pyus Skel'rah's soft, disapproving voice from behind him, "a king should not have to bow to anyone –least of all to one of the traitor House Stark."

Gendry clenched his jaw. He was aware that there were those still loyal to the Lannisters in his court, those who still believed the Starks to be traitors, whom shook their heads whenever they appeared in court.

"Do not tarnish the Stark family with that word again, Lord Skel'rah." Gendry said, his voice gruff as he turned his head to look at the old, balding lord, "For you will surely regret it."

Lord Skel'rah's dark green eyes bore into his own, the man nodded once and with that Gendry turned his head back to Arya. He watched her with uncertainty, she was indeed taking her time mulling over whether or not she should trust his words.

Arya rolled her eyes,

"Oh, get up you fool."

He stood at once, unable to shake the thought that she was above him in rank. King or no, he would always hold her in high regard. To Gendry, what Arya said, went.

Gendry opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off,

"I'll be your Hand. Nonetheless I am still angry with you so you best not do anything stupid this time around."

His grin stretched from ear to ear, which she returned with the smallest trace of a smile of her own. For an instant, Gendry forgot all about the return of the White Walkers or Daenerys Targaryen's dragons that were said to bring death to all once they had come of age and she had crossed the Narrow Sea. The prospect of war and death and dragon fire did not deter him now because Lady Arya Stark was his Hand and he knew that between them nothing would touch the Seven Kingdoms.

They would not allow it.

"Of course not, milady."

She punched his arm. He could indeed hear the royal court, the ladies and lords wondering what in Seven Hells he was thinking allowing her to treat him so. They were not there the day he met her, nor did they know how close they'd become during their travels. They saw a lady mistreating her king and nothing else.

"Do. Not. Call. Me. 'Milady'." She said, enunciating each word.

"As milady commands."

Arya let out a growl and pushed past him, he chuckled, rubbing the arm she had abused as he watched her storm in the direction of the Red Keep.

By the Gods he'd missed her.