I own nothing… as per usual.
Gendry stood looking out from the window. The window of the room Queen Daenerys Targaryen had given him three years ago as she'd legitimised him and made him Lord Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.
He watched as the rough, grey sea crashed on the rocks that surrounded Dragonstone and thought back to where he had come from.
From the age of ten he had been an armourer's apprentice with Tobho Mott on the Street of Steel. But that had come to an end when he had been sold to the Night's Watch recruiter at six and ten.
God's the last fifteen years of his life had been filled with so many ups and downs. He had found friends and lost them, either through death or them going their own way. He had been tortured and almost killed on more than one occasion. He'd travelled further than he'd ever thought possible, going to Braavos. He'd been there for three years, learning how to work with Valyrian steel under some of the best.
He remembered the day that Davos had found him again, back in Flea Bottom. Back where he'd started.
He had his back to the door, running a rag along a newly forged sword.
"Wasn't sure I'd find ya, thought you might still be rowing."
He'd turned to see Davos standing there, in the doorway of his shop.
"I looked in shops, taverns, brothels. Should have known to come straight to the Street of Steel."
"Aren't you worried about the Goldcloaks?" he'd asked.
"Haven't been here in years. Why should they recognise me? Sometimes I hardly do. Nothing fucks you harder than time. Anybody give you any trouble?"
"Here I am, arming Lannister's, and I never get a second look. But, you were right. The safest place for me was right under the Queen's nose."
"Don't be so sure, safety is never a permanent state of affairs. Bad things are coming." Davos had said.
"You came to get me. You want me to come with you." It hadn't been a question, just a statement of fact.
"Well. The thing you need to understand is…" Davos had started to say, but Gendry had interrupted him.
"I'm ready, let's go."
"You should know what you're heading into."
"What do you think I've been thinking about with every swing of the hammer? How happy I am? Making weapons for the family who killed my father, the family that tried to kill me? I've been getting ready. I never knew what for, but I've always known I'd know when it comes."
They'd left that minute, and three weeks later he'd walked through the gates of Winterfell.
He'd always known that he'd end up there. He hadn't known how, but he had been determined to make it to Arya's home.
Arya.
The only girl he'd ever loved. The only girl he would ever love.
It had been nearly fourteen years since he'd been taken by the red woman. Fourteen years since he'd last seen her.
She'd been a child. A young girl, only just starting into the way of womanhood. Breasts only just starting to develop that you could only see if you knew they were there, and the slight sway of her hips as she walked. He'd been annoyed with himself, at the time, for thinking about her like that. But as the years passed and he grew older, the image of her in his mind had grown older too.
She would be six and twenty now, standing only a few inches taller than she had been when he'd last seen her. Her skin smooth and milky white. A slim waist and breasts firm and not to big that they would just fill his hands.
He gets hard as he imagines the purse of her lips when she gasps as his mouth covers the hard, pink nipple and he has to take himself in his hand. With only a few hard strokes his cock explodes. Breathing hard he walks to the wash basin to clean himself up.
There is a noise from the bed as the covers are adjusted.
"Gendry?"
"Mmm."
"Come back to bed," comes a sleepy voice.
"As you command, My Queen."
