"Might I have a word with you?"

Ned was surprised to find King Robert at the forge's entrance. He immediately bowed to acknowledge him before looking around for a suitable chair for the king to sit on. Robert waved his hand in dismissal, seemingly content to stand and look around the small, hot workplace. His guards were standing outside to scout the area for possible attacks on their king.

"I would find something more suitable for you to sit on, Your Grace," Ned said with a bow of his head. "But no one ever comes in here except to place orders."

"I see no need for you to find me anything, Ned," Robert replied. "This won't be long. I see you are a busy man and I won't take more of your time than necessary."

"How can I be of service to you, Your Grace?"

The king finally stopped pacing the forge and stood directly in front of the smith, allowing ample space between them so as not to intimidate the man. "Your daughter…her name is Arya, is it not?"

Ned's heartbeat picked up. At that exact moment, it dawned on him what the king's exact purpose for visiting was. "Yes, Your Grace."

Robert nodded in understanding. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before letting the words come out of his mouth. "I will be stating this directly, but I hope you would not take this personally. You do know that there are certain laws and customs that we must abide with, do you?"

Ned could only nod.

The king heaved a deep sigh. "If it were only up to me, I would have no qualms about allowing it so, but you do know that it is not customary for…"

He signaled Ned to give him the workbench anyway. He sat on it despite its ratty appearance, making the wood grunt under his weight. Ned watched as the king rubbed his fingers over his temples, as if trying to make the throbbing go away.

He sighed once more. "I have a son, you have a daughter. But our houses cannot be joined."

"I do not belong to any house of nobility, Your Grace. Merely a Stark of Winterfell in the North, and a smith to House Baratheon."

"Exactly my point," said Robert. "I am sure that your daughter is a good girl, and your family a reputable one, I do not question that. But my son is to be affianced to House Tyrell. I cannot-we cannot-have our children's affections for each other come between this agreement between the Baratheons and Tyrells. I hope you understand that, Ned."

Ned could only nod his head in understanding. It was something he had already warned his daughter about, but now that the king has discussed his concerns with him, made Ned realize the gravity of it all.

"I apologize if this has in any way offended you, Your Grace. I will talk to my daughter this night and forbid her to see the Prince, if that would be best."

Robert nodded his approval. "Despite this…ah…unfortunate news I bring, I take this chance to tell you how pleased I am with your work. But as we are training men for war and constantly seeing to repairing what needs be in the castle, you must be incredibly busy these days. I would send an apprentice to help you with the work."

"That would be most helpful and kind of you, Your Grace."

"I'll send for the boy on the morrow," Robert said as he took his leave.

"Your Grace," Ned said in farewell, bowing low until the king has exited the forge.

With a deep sigh and a rub of his temples, Ned picked up his tongs and hammer and went back to work.


Gendry was whistling as he walked up the stairs leading to his bedchambers. His mood had improved since that morning. He was almost to the door when he found his mother standing there, waiting for him.

"Did you have a good ride, my love?" Cersei asked as she once again touched the lump on his forehead. "It's almost gone."

"It is merely a bump, Mother. No need to fuss about it, I told you," Gendry said with a smile.

"Come," Cersei said as she hooked her slim arm with his muscular one. She pulled him toward his chambers, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he stood there watching her with a puzzled expression. "Tell me about your day."

"It was a good day today," he explained, crossing over to stand before the window. "I went riding with Ser Yoren out in the fields. I wanted to hunt but Father promised to take me with him when he goes hunting after my name day."

Cersei nodded in approval. "Your father has been busy as of late. It is good that he plans to spend time with you when he can."

"Do you think…" he started, before shaking his head. "Never mind. It is of no importance."

"What is it, my love? What troubles you so?"

He sighed before going on. "Do you think Father would be a better father and husband if he spends more time with us?"

"I believe it would be so, but he makes a good job already by keeping this family and at the same time this kingdom. It does not make him less of a man, and a good one at that, if he sees to the safety of his people first."

Gendry frowned. "Should it not be the other way around? Shouldn't his family come first before everyone else?"

"Do not doubt that your father loves us and has his family on top of his list of priorities," Cersei said in a soothing voice. "But he is crowned King and must see to the welfare of all his subjects. It has been quite unruly in some of the towns, which is why he has been absent as of late."

Gendry continued to stand by the window, watching the courtyard below. Several servants were carrying wooden buckets filled with water and baskets filled with vegetables ready for cooking supper. His thoughts immediately went to Arya and the carrot soup and apple pie they would be having for supper. He turned back to his mother and said, "If I were to be on the throne, I would not put my family below my subjects. My wife and children will always be first before anything or anyone else."

Cersei remained silent, but Gendry was far from over.

"And these social classes...I do not see why people must be below or above someone in rank," he commented with a wave of his hands. "If we are fighting for freedom of lands and peace among the people, then why are there social classes after all?"

Cersei stood next to him, pulling his head down to hers and kissing his temple. "You are a good man, my love. But that is not the way of things." She caressed the hair on his forehead before softly patting his cheek. "I will leave you now to be ready for supper.


Arya noticed that her father seemed a bit restless. She had prepared some carrot soup and a freshly-made apple pie as requested. But now that they were sitting at the table for supper, he seemed closed-off and distant; as if something was bothering him and would not share it with her.

When supper was over and she started to gather the bowls and spoons, he took a gentle hold of her wrist to stop her from the task.

"Arya, there is something I need to discuss with you," he said, casting weary eyes to her face.

She put the bowls back on the table and nodded, wiping her hands on her skirt which were dirtied by her afternoon foray in the fields with Gendry. "Does it concern Mother?"

No, my sweet," he responded with a small smile. "You need not worry about your mother or brothers and sister. But I would speak to you about King Robert."

Arya frowned. "What about the king?"

Ned tried to choose his words carefully. He knew how Arya was the most rebellious of his children, her and Rickon, and it would have to take firm words but a soft approach for her to understand what he had to say.

""Is there anything you need to tell me, my love?"

"Am I in trouble?" she asked with a curious expression on her face.

"King Robert paid me a visit today," he explained. "At the forge."

Arya froze. What did King Robert possibly want with her father?

"He's sending a young apprentice who could help me," he continued. "I would be training him with smithing, wouldn't that be nice?"

She gave him a genuine smile. "It would be, Father. You don't have to do everything alone now. But I've been telling you, I could help you if only you'd give me something more than just tending to clients. I can wield a hammer, and tongs are not so hard to pick up, too."

Ned shook his head. "Smithing is not work for young ladies like you. You're enough help tending to our home, planting crops for food, hunting in the forest…all these that I would have done myself if only I do not have to work at the smithy all day."

"You do hard work, Father. It is not expected of you to do everything on your own."

"You should be out there visiting friends of your age, thinking about young lads who would court you, swimming in the lake whenever you feel like it. But you help keep this home and run to me when I call for help. It is not what I would want you to do for the rest of your life."

"I do not know why you keep these silly thoughts in your head, Father," she argued. "I am happy to be helping you here, especially when Mother's back home in Winterfell, tending to our home and running after my brothers and sister. It's the least I could do to help around here."

"You're a good girl, my sweet. But now, I must ask something from you once again..."

Arya waited with bated breath as her father took both her hands in his and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze.

"…and it's about Prince Gendry."

Arya pulled her hands away from her father. No, no, no, no…

"I'm sorry, my sweet. But you cannot keep seeing the Prince. He cannot keep sneaking out of the castle grounds because his safety is at all times in jeopardy when away from his guards. The King forbids it, and I'm afraid I must forbid it as well."

Arya stared at her father in sadness. She knew it was not to his liking, for Gendry-Prince Gendry-is the only person aside from Ned whom she trusts outside of Winterfell. He must obey the king, and she must obey the king too by obeying her father. But she did not like it. Not one bit.

"I…I don't understand why…" she stammered. "He's my friend!"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead to soothe her disappointment. "I know he is your friend. But he is the crown prince and we are servants to their house. It is not the way of things. Come, now. We must clean this up before retiring. I would need your help at the forge again. The apprentice comes on the morrow."


Gendry was seething. His steps were loud and his demeanor irritable. He had just come from his father's study, where he was told-no, ordered-to stop seeing the blacksmith's daughter. The request resulted to a shouting match between the king and the prince, which led to the king giving out the order that totally forbids him to see Arya.

Who is he to order me around? Oh, right. He is the fucking King!

He could not believe his father would do this to him. He was told that the king and his hunting party saw Arya yesterday as they rode through the fields. They might have seen Gendry kissing Arya, too. And now he has been ordered, not just by the king but his advisers as well, that continuing to see the smith's daughter would not be the best thing to do.

Who the fuck do they think they are? Even if he's king and his men born of nobility, that does not make him better than anyone else. And it does not mean they can just tell me what to do or not to do!

As soon as he reached his bedchambers, he grabbed the riding cloak he discarded earlier and put it on. Shoving the hood lower down his head to conceal his face, he quickly but carefully crept down the stairs, passing through the kitchen and out the back where he would be less likely seen. Taking the secret passage out the castle, he ran as fast as he could until he reached the road to the Stark cottage.