Gendry let out a yelp of pain and dropped his training sword as Arya wacked him across the knuckles, he yelped again as the lead weighted wooden sword hit his foot. Suddenly he was hopping and waiving his hand in the air, trying to numb the pain. Gods, how could somebody so small be such a pain in the ass!
"You're making it too easy." Arya muttered, her lips pursing in disappointment. "You're taller and stronger than me, with long arms… are you letting me win?" She accused.
Gendry tucked his throbbing hand under his opposite armpit and stopped hopping, he shook his head. "No, mi'lady, I am not. You have years of training over me… I'm never going to get this."
Arya's expression softened. "You're holding the sword wrong." She told him. "Pick it up and let me show you."
Gendry shook his head. "I think I've had enough for today."
"Well if you give up that easy then you're right, you are never going to get this, pick the sword up." Arya insisted.
Gendry sighed and picked up the wooden sword, he listened and watched as she adjusted his hand on the grip, who's bright idea had it been for him to spar with her anyway? He had spent most of the session trying to ignore their audience, Mya, the Dothraki woman, Arya's two warrior maids, the King, Lord Stark, and many guards were watching, and they were all watching a little girl beat the crap out of him, it was embarrassing.
He dropped the sword again and felt his shoulders slump, Arya picked it up for him and encouraged him to try again, but it felt pointless. He heard whispering and looked up at Lord Stark and the King, their heads bowed together, they were clearly talking about how disappointing he was. Soon they would realise that this was all a big mistake and send him back to his old life. He'd best not get too attached to a full stomach and a soft bed.
Arya gave him a few more instructions and then they went back to sparing, she went easier on him this time. Pity from a child. Could today get any worse? Oh, yes, it could. The King walked off, likely disgusted by how bad Gendry was, it wouldn't be long now… they'd give up on him soon. Why did he want to impress them anyway? He was an armourer, and a weapon maker, not a prince. He didn't belong here. Yet Arya persisted, and there was something about her determination that made him want to try.
About half an hour later the King returned, with his famous war hammer in his hands. "Arya, take a break. " King Robert commanded, he then turned his attention to Gendry. "I struggled with a sword at first too, Bronze Yohn almost deemed me untrainable, but I mastered it… thanks to Ned. A hammer however, this makes more sense to me than any damned sword." The King confessed, he pressed the hammer into Gendry's hands. "Maybe it will make more sense to you as well?"
Gendry stood gobsmacked, this was King Robert's famous War hammer, the one forged by Donal Noye, at Storm's End… the Weapon that had killed Prince Rhaegar! It was over twice the size of a standard war hammer, and beautifully crafted. It was heavy…
"Are you going to stand there and drool on it all day, lad? Or are you going to use it?" King Robert asked.
"On what?" Gendry muttered.
The king laughed and dummy targets were quickly set up. Gendry smashed them down faster than they could build them up, much to King Robert's approval. They kept at it for over an hour, King Robert would show him swings then he would copy.
"That's my son!" King Robert roared, laughing, when the armourer announced that they were out of targets. "Now, give the hammer back. For every six hours of sword training I'll give you one hour with this."
Gendry nodded and reluctantly handed the weapon back, then he smirked. "Maybe I'll make my own, a Valyrian Steel one, when you let me finish my blacksmith training..."
King Robert regarded him carefully. "Start wearing the Baratheon Crowned Stag, and accept your place as my heir, and we have a deal."
"Let me finish my blacksmith training first." Gendry replied, was he really negotiating with a king? Yet what did he have to lose?
"No, not until you're sure what sort of weapon you want to make yourself, you'll want to train with a few different types of swords and hammers first. And you still need to learn to read and write."
"I can help with that, your grace." Mya said quietly. "Jon Arryn taught me my letters, and most of the people that taught me my weapons are here, Lady Jorelle can train him in mace, chain mace, and Morningstar, and we can all help him with the sword, bow, and whip, it's only hammer and axe you'll have to look to others for."
The King frowned. "He doesn't need to learn the whip."
"It served Jon well enough... your grace" Lady Jorelle replied with a touch of defiance, the 'your grace' was almost an afterthought. Were all northern women so damn stubborn?
"Whip training will help regardless of what weapon he chooses, your grace." The Dothraki woman said quietly. "It will aide with balance and reflexes, and help strengthen the small muscles in the wrist and hand."
"Fine, fine." The King replied, he turned to Lord Stark. "I'll leave this in your hands to sort. I want him reading, writing and fighting before I hand over Valyrian Steel."
Lord Stark nodded. "Arya, your handwriting could use some improvement as well, you will assist Mya with every aspect of Gendry's training, you can start by teaching Gendry the Major Houses and their Vassals of the Stormlands and Kingslands."
Arya groaned. "That's so boring." She muttered. "Do I have to?"
"Ivezh Zolat Ver, knowledge is an important weapon." The Dothraki woman said quietly. "And one that Gendry will need now that he's been acknowledged, regardless of if he allows King Robert to make him a prince or not, you have been asked to help arm him, do as your father asks."
Gendry watched as Arya bowed to the Dothraki woman and nodded. "Yes Khalakki Jeshi."
The woman gave her a sad smile. "I am not a Khalakki anymore, now apologise to your father."
Arya turned to her father and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Father, I will do as you ask."
Lord Stark nodded. "Two hours of reading and writing every day before you train."
Arya groaned. "Yes father."
~~/~~
"Nephew! How did your training go?" Lord Renly asked, lengthening his strides to catch up with Gendry, as he crossed the drawbridge to Maegor's Holdfast. Gendry stopped, as did the four guards whom followed him everywhere.
Gendry looked at his swelling hand and groaned. "Bad." He muttered.
Renly chuckled. "She's quite scary, isn't she? The little Stark girl."
Gendry rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't say scary, but… fearless."
"She killed Joffrey, did you know?' Renly remarked casually.
Gendry shook his head in disbelief. "I find that difficult to believe."
Yet Renly looked sincere, he shook his head. "The guards told me, apparently Joffrey snapped after discovering he was a bastard and tried to charge my dear brother with his sword. They say she calmly unsheathed her blade, stepped in, and skewered him. They say she moved faster than even Ser Barristan."
Gendry shook his head. "But she's just a child…"
Renly shrugged. "A Northern child, they're barbarians, the lot of them, keep your wits about you. I know Mya is your half-sister, but she is more like them than like you, she's dangerous too."
"No, I don't believe it." Gendry protested. "Lady Arya-"
"Oh, Arya Stark is not a Lady." Renly countered, he produced a locket and handed it over to Gendry. "This is a Lady, open it."
Gendry opened the locket carefully, inside was a finely detailed portrait of a doe-eyed girl with brown hair, the brushwork was exquisitely fine and delicate, the artist was exceptionally talented. "Who is she?" He asked curiously.
Renly's smile brightened. "Lady Margery Tyrell, Ser Loras' sister, beautiful, isn't she?"
Gendry frowned, paintings could be misleading. "I… the painting is very delicate." He muttered.
"When you meet her in person you'll see." Renly replied confidently. "The painting doesn't do her justice, and she is sweet, and kind, she does a lot of work with orphans… you'll see. Once we've dealt with this Tywin nonsense Loras is going to bring her to court, I'll introduce you, you're around the same age."
Gendry's frown deepened. "Why would you do that?"
Renly clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, my dear boy, you have so much to learn about court. Come, walk with me, let Uncle Renly teach you."
~~/~~