A/N and now we have some Stannis fun, enjoy!

This time there's proper Gendrya, I promise. And even MORE in the next chapter!

The tailor and Lord Renly finished with him by 3 o'clock and Gendry seized the opportunity to train a little before he had to get ready for the banquet. He had no doubts that Arya would want to fight him tomorrow, and he thought he'd better get some practice in so that she didn't beat him again. He still got embarrassed over that.

He was suddenly drawn into the memory of the day. It was before she had gone North, when King Robert was still trying to sort his legitimisation and get rid of Cersei Lannister and her beastly children. They'd been training all morning, and, as usual, she challenged him to a duel. They were almost equally matched with a sword, Gendry's brute force made up for by her swiftness, but somehow that day she had gained the advantage and managed to back him into a corner. He parried her blows, but they were too quick, and she knocked him to the ground. His last defense- impulsive as it was- was grasping her tunic and bringing her down with him. She landed on top of him, her legs straddling his hips and her hands on his chest. He had lost his sword in the melee but she still held hers, yet instead of using it, she leant down and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first one that was given with the knowledge that they could be together. Robert Baratheon had announced that Gendry was to be legitimised and, although they hadn't asked, Gendry saw no reason why he would deny the marriage of his son to the daughter of his best friend.

The memory fell away as he was struck in the chest with the flat edge of his opponent's sword.

'Yield,' he said, distracted.

'Is your mind elsewhere, Gendry?' called a strong, deep voice across the courtyard. Gendry turned to see his uncle Stannis, serious-faced and smartly dressed, perhaps in preparation for the banquet. Gendry tried very hard not to sigh. Was he ever going to get away from his uncles today?

'I was just trying to get my head around Lord Renly's instructions for tonight,' he lied, because daydreaming about Arya was not a very good excuse for Stannis Baratheon.

Stannis nodded approvingly, and took up a sword, weighting it in his hands carefully.

'There'll be plenty of time for all that socialising later,' said Stannis. He raised the sword to point it at Gendry and his nephew steeled. 'Now, shall we practice?'

'If you wish, uncle,' answered Gendry, turning his sword in his hand.

They fought, quite evenly matched, for a few minutes until finally Gendry took the advantage, and Stannis, pressed down on the floor, yielded.

Gendry gave his uncle a hand up and the older man slapped him on the shoulder. 'Well fought, Gendry,' he praised, and then studied his nephew's face. Gendry wondered what he was looking for: marks of his father- well, there weren't any as far as Gendry could see. He did bear a fair resemblance to Renly, though, which marked him quite obviously a Baratheon. He didn't feel that he shared the personality of any of his uncles, though, and he wasn't fond of the Baratheon words, either. Ours Is The Fury, he thought, didn't really sum him up. Gendry didn't have so much fury in him, particularly not when Arya was around, and he wasn't a very vengeful person. He especially disliked the inclusion of his family in that fury, that it wasn't just his fury but ours. Their wars were not his.

Stannis continued, 'I'm very proud of you, Gendry,' he smiled, 'You're a better man than your father.'

Although Arya agreed, Gendry took a little offence at that dismissal of his father. He might be a rotten drunk, but Robert Baratheon was his rotten drunk.

'He's not a bad man,' said Gendry, slightly tersely.

'No, no,' agreed Stannis, shaking his head, 'But I hope you will be a more honourable knight, Gendry, and will not… father so many bastards,' he gave a conciliatory smile, 'Though some of his bastards have turned out fine men indeed.'