First off, I want to begin by saying I'm not super happy with how the last chapter came out. It was rushed and, tbh, felt a bit convenient, but I realized where I wanted to go with this thing and was a bit impatient to get to the crux of the /
So, sorry for the shoddy craftsmanship, and if this all seems a bit rushed. Forgive me? I promise it's only so we can get fluffier and cuter. Deal? Alright. On we go!
...
Five years.
He notched another line at the back of the book and ran his fingers over the subtle bumps of the tallies.
Five years.
Gendry lay back on the itchy mattress and looked up at the ceiling. Outside of his room, he heard small feet running up and down, and giggles crying out. He turned on his side and looked at the wall.
"Uncle!" little fists beat on his door. Gendry reached up and pulled the pillow over his head, wishing them away. It wasn't that he didn't like his niece and nephew, but today he wasn't in the mood for their shrieking laughter or grabby hands, begging him to throw them over their shoulder and carry them outside.
"Unnnnnncle!" Mira let out a whiny cry, and Gendry's heartstrings tugged.
"Not right now Mira," he cried out, lifting the pillow off his head for a moment before diving back under. Outside, he heard Mya's motherly tone.
"Let's let Uncle sleep, yes?" Gendry could see his half-sister motioning the kids along in his mind's eye. Mira was probably pouting but listened. He heard the little girl's feet pad down farther, her little brother doddling after her.
After a moment of silence, he heard Mya's knuckles rap on the door.
"Hey," she said softly. "Do you need anything?"
"No," he called back.
A pause.
"We're going to the market today if you'd like to come." she offered. "If not, we'll see you around sundown."
"Alright,"
With that, Mya left his door, going down to corral her children. Gendry held the pillow over his head, half-pretending, half-daring to smother himself.
Five years.
...
When they left the Vale, they had a good trail. The people in the village had seen the party roll through and pointed them in the right direction. Despite Petyr's cunning, even he couldn't bribe every drunk in every village to pretend they never saw his face, nor the carriage he traveled with. Mya, who never struck Gendry as particularly outgoing, seemed to flourish in her investigation. It wasn't unusual for, during that first week, Mya to sashay into whatever camp they had made, proclaiming she had new information to share. For a while, the information was good.
Along the way somewhere - Mya thought it was somewhere in the North, Gendry argued they were going south - they picked up Taryn. Only a year older than Gendry, Taryn drifted from village to village working odd jobs. Once a sellsword in Kings Landing, the war had driven him to seek other opportunities elsewhere. Rail thin with bright red hair, Gendry did a double take when Mya led the man back to their camp.
"This is Taryn," she said, plopping down next to her brother and poking at the rabbit he was roasting. "He said he saw them, and he'll help us if we share camp and food."
Gendry didn't know what to make of the man at first. He was quiet and his features seemed so sharp he was almost intimidating. As the weeks went on, however, he began to open up. He made small but cutting jokes under his breath. He was a good hunter. Around Mya, he was talkative, even sweet, and made her throw back her head with booming laughs. It didn't surprise Gendry when, one morning, he saw Mya crawl from the opening of their new companion's tent, hair dishelved and clutching a handful of wildflowers.
"He gave these to me last night," she said as an explanation when she saw how Gendry's eyebrows shot up. He nodded at his sister and turned back to sharpening Taryn's sword.
So it went on. The first year was promising, if frustrating. Leaving the Vale in the winter meant snow days and snow-ins. Once, they were so hindered by a blizzard they spent all their savings for three nights at an Inn, and then another three weeks working there for a bit of money. This would be a constant roadblock in their travel - what little money they had was spent quickly and earned slowly. Progress was often a step forward and stumble back.
Spring was spent trudging through Highgarden on what turned out to be a false tip from a city drunk. Gendry knew, somewhere, that she wasn't in the glorified rose bush of a country, but bit his lip and wandered loyally from town to town, asking if anyone had seen two people matching Sansa and Petyr's descriptions. By the time the harvest had come, they had made it to the very Southern shore of Highgarden and decided it would be best to rest for a month and work at some of the local shops.
A month turned into a season, as Gendry now found himself going against a strongly allied couple. Whenever he brought up the idea of moving, Mya would frown, claiming the roads weren't safe during the winter and they would be best served if they stayed and worked, saving money so they could move faster once spring came. Taryn, stern and quiet, always agreed with Mya - probably, Gendry thought, because she scared him only a bit.
When the second spring came, Mya's stomach began to swell. Despite her condition, Mya pushed through, never openly discussing her growing belly until both men had to put their foot down. When they arrived in the Iron Islands after hearing about Theon Greyjoy and Jeyne Poole's arrival, Taryn and Mya wed quickly and the three found a small shack to stay in until the babe arrived. Gendry asked around, eventually getting to have a quick conversation with Asha Greyjoy when he spotted her at a bar, but she had no information for him either.
"When we left, Winterfell was Bolton run," she said. "Never saw head nor tail of a Stark,"
Mya gave birth to a girl in the middle of Winter. Mira had bright blue eyes and dark black hair like her mother and was loud, giggly baby almost immediately. Even with the sleepless nights and the vomit without warning, Gendry loved his niece. When he had heard that Winterfell had finally been returned to Stark hands, Mya was ready to pack the child up and accompany her brother. He refused, saying that she needed to stay somewhere stable, away from the war. He would go alone.
He tried to, at least. Two days into his trek north he encountered a camp of Lannister soldiers. He managed to evade them, hiding in the small hole created by a precariously leaning tree and it's massive roots. He hid in his small space for three days, daring himself to leave but remembering the list that carried his name on it all those years ago.
When the soldiers passed, he made to keep walking but fell ill almost as soon as he left his hiding space. A blizzard had rolled in, coating the landscape with a heavy blanket of snow and a constant flurry of snow. When he arrived back, he practically stumbled into Mya's arms. Taryn had to carry him to his old cot, and the two kept him there for the next week as he vomited into the bucket by his bed and fell in and out of sleep.
The spring of his third year brought strange news of dragons in Westeros. The last Targaryen, aided by the bastard son of Ned Stark, had begun to cross the narrow sea. Mya was jumping for joy, practically, begging her husband and brother to leave and go to King's Landing to watch the ships come in ("Dragons! Can you imagine it?"). Gendry and Taryn abruptly shut down her proposal.
When the fighting made its way to the Iron Islands, Mira was starting to walk. The small family quickly packed up and left their shack in the middle of the night. A month later, while they were working their way North, Gendry learned the town they had called home had been torched in the early morning after their departure. He held his niece tighter as they continued on.
Just before the harvest, Mya's stomach began to grow again. Taryn, perhaps finally realizing that his family was getting too big and too vulnerable to have on the road, made them stop at one of the more southern towns on the Northern border. He quickly found a job serving as some stuffy minor Lord's personal security, promising to bring Gendry one day to court in hopes of getting word to Winterfell. The man, a Lord Durshell, was a plump but good-spirited man. He said that he had seen the Queen ("Queen?" Gendry remembers balking) months prior when Winterfell was reclaimed. He couldn't remember if there was a man with her. When he saw the worry in Gendry's eyes, he smiled softly.
"She looked safe, son." was all he said.
Gendry wrote letters, and Lord Durshell let him use his aviary to send them. His childlike scrawl had improved over the years, but he was still embarrassed tying them up, wishing he could write neater for her.
Whether she got the ravens he had no idea. Almost as soon as the family had settled, another war came to the north. White walkers, they called them. Long freezes overtook their home for days. Families around them starved, and there was no doubt that this would have too had Taryn not been working at the Lord's house. Fighting the urge to go join the recruits, Gendry stayed behind. He found work in a shop, repairing and forging weapons out of the cheap metal they villagers and soldiers had to work with. He wrote a note to Sansa almost every week.
When Mya gave birth to Erik, the war reached its height. On the good days, when there was some light outside and the snow stopped, he heard the news. King's Landing had been burnt, and the Lannister's were retreating. The Dragon Queen had come home to claim her throne, and more and more larger houses were supporting her.
Stark was one.
Before Mira had even lost her first tooth, it was over. The ashes had settled and the common folks were left picking up pieces of a destoyed nation. The white walkers had been pushed back, leaving only nightmares and memories that would evolve into legends and myths. Mya was cross with them, as apparently the dragons had a good deal to do with ending the long winter ("We could have gone to go see them!" she had said, with one babe balanced on her hip and another tugging at her shirt). True, Gendry had seen one of them flying overhead during one of his many walks through the village. He didn't tell Mya, though, as she was angry enough when Taryn returned one evening claiming he had heard one of the dragon's caws. He just smiled and continued working, waiting for the dust to settle.
...
There was a knock at the door.
Gendry pulled the pillow off his head and glared up at the wall. Cursing, he pushed himself out of bed, hobbling over to push through his bedroom door and make for the front entrance. Another rapping came, more urgent this time.
"Yeah, I heard you," he called out. Rubbing his eye with the butt of his palm, he pulled the door open and looked at his visitor.
A broad-shouldered man stood before him, dressed in the uniform of Northen soldiers. Gendry's heart skipped a beat for a moment, before seeing that the man held an envelope in his hand.
"Is this the home of Mya and Taryn Irons?" he asked.
Gendry nodded. Mya Stone and Taryn Flowers had decided to take the new surname, inspired by their wedding location.
"And are you Taryn Irons?"
Gendry shook his head.
"I'm Mya Irons brother," he said, still wary about giving out his name to men in uniform.
"Gendry Waters?" the man asked.
Gendry's back straightened. He blinked a few times before answering, still trying to find his words.
"Yeah," he said finally.
The man held out an envelope to him but didn't wait for Gendry to open it before speaking again.
"Your presence has been requested at Winterfell by her majesty Queen Sansa Stark. I have orders to retrieve you." he looked over Gendry once again. "I have a horse for you. Gather your things. Probably put on a shirt, too."
The man turned on his heel and made for the two horses Gendry just now noticed were standing in the meager yard of the house. He ran his fingers over the envelope, looking down to see his name neatly scripted on the front.
He brought his hand up and squeezed the small bird charm that hung down to his chest.
Finally.
