First of all, I'd like to thank you all for the reviews and follows and favs! You guys rock! :D
Also, before going on, I'd like to establish their ages here. I decided to match Arya's age with Maisie's in Season 1, which is 13. I won't consider Joe's age for Gendry though, because I'm keeping the five-year difference between him and Arya, so he's 18 here. But, of course, this is only in the first chapters; they will age up as time goes by. :)
Gendry was trembling.
Stay cool, stay cool, stay cool…
He breathed in and out, inhaled and exhaled, but there was no use. He was extremely nervous. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, and there was nothing he could do to calm his tits. It was only supper, he tried to convince himself, but it wasn't. It was supper with the King, with the Hand of the King, and with the Hand of the King's daughters.
He knew his courtesies, but he knew they wouldn't help him now. Everything Tobho Mott had taught him about how to act in the presence of lords and ladies had become useless. Lord Stark had told him he had to forget everything, and that from now on he had to act like a lord himself.
But how in the Seven Hells was he supposed to know the way a lord should act? Until a day ago he was only a smith's apprentice, and now he was the King of the Seven Kingdoms' son.
Wait a minute…
Suddenly realization downed on him.
That's it! I'm dreaming!
All of that was just a weird, freaky dream. Him, the son of the king? Meh! That was folly. And he was going to wake up any minute, he was sure.
Or maybe he should just anticipate the process.
Then he pinched his arm, with all the strength he could muster.
"OUCH!"
Obviously it wasn't a dream.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and he quickly opened it, massaging his arm.
"Is everything okay, Gendry? I heard a scream."
"Yes, yes, it was… nothing…" he said, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"Supper is ready, I came to fetch you."
Gendry swallowed hard.
"I don't think I'm ready, m'lord…"
"Well, I can see you bathed, and you're wearing one of the new clothes I sent you. You seem pretty ready to me," he said. Gendry swallowed again, and Lord Stark seemed to have noticed, because his smiled sympathetically. "There's no need to be nervous, son, there will be only the king, my daughters and myself. You won't meet the rest of the court or the council's members until you're ready. Now come with me, the king awaits you" he said gently.
Gendry could only take a deep breath and follow the Hand.
Gods help me.
He kept his eyes on his plate, unsure of what to do. And he stayed like that for at least 10 minutes.
"Are you not hungry, boy?" the King asked, and Gendry started to tremble again.
"I-I am, Your Grace, it's just…"
"Father," the king said.
"Hmm… what?"
"You should call me 'father', not 'Your Grace'," the King said, with an oddly gentle softness in his voice.
"Forgive me, Your Gra-… I mean, father."
"There's nothing to forgive, son. Now eat," he commanded, and Gendry obeyed.
He tried to concentrate on his food and ignore the eyes that may be observing him, but he couldn't. Between his bites, he raised his eyes carefully and studied each one of the faces in the table.
First he took a look at the King – he still had trouble thinking about him as his father – and he seemed to be absorbed enjoying his food, not paying attention to him anymore.
Then he looked at Lord Stark, who gave him a warm smile and nodded reassuringly.
Next, he glanced at Lord Stark's eldest daughter, and the look he saw in her face made his stomach take a turn to the point of discomfort. He had seen it before. Actually, he was used to it, since that was how the highborn ladies that went to the forge with their lord fathers used to look at him – when they looked at him at all.
Lord Stark had said that he should get used to act like a lord now. But the way the Lady Sansa Stark looked at him now made him feel like a dirty lowborn again. She had seen him from afar when her father brought him to the Red Keep earlier, wearing his old and greasy clothes, his face sweaty and dirty with soot. He didn't miss the disgusted face she did then. The same one she was wearing now, even though he didn't look filthy anymore.
He looked down to his plate again, and then he almost jumped from his chair.
"ARYA!"
Gendry looked up again, and saw Lady Sansa trying to clean her face while her eyes thrown daggers to her younger sister, who was sitting right next to her. Arya was her name. She was laughing hard, almost getting breathless, and he guessed she was to blame. Lady Arya somehow had managed to thrown a spoonful of food at her sister's face.
"Father! Look what she did!" Sansa whined, outraged.
"Behave, Arya, you're not a little child anymore," he said firmly, though his tone was gentle. "Forgive her, Your Grace," he said, but the King seemed more amused than displeased.
"It's okay, Ned, that's why I like to have supper with your daughters. Supper is never a dull affair when Arya is at the table," he said, laughing wholeheartedly.
Gendry glanced at Lady Sansa, and she was red in the face, fuming while she silently finished cleaning her cheek, probably feeling even more outraged at the King's reaction.
Then his eyes traveled to Arya, who was looking down to her hands, trying to suppress a laugh, but the smirk in the corner of her lips gave her away. Then she raised her eyes slightly and glanced at Gendry, half-chuckling, and he found himself chuckling too.
