A short one, but hey at least it's an update right? (that's what I tell myself anyway)

For the Lost and Unreturning we have drifted, we have waited; Uncommanded and unrated,
we have tossed and wandered, yearning for a charm that comes no more…
We have shamed ourselves in learning what you knew so long before.

For the Breed of the Far-going who are strangers, and all brothers,
May forget no more than others who looked seaward with eyes flowing.
But are brothers to bewail one who fought so foul a gale?
You have won beyond our knowing, you are gone, but yet we sail.

from The Pilot by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Gendry

When King Jon summoned him, he hadn't been concerned, at least not at first. He thought it had something to do with the ceremony since it was that night and Gendry had never been to nor seen such a thing, surely the king planned on talking him through it, to save him the embarrassment.

It was after they had done all that, when Gendry had finally let himself relax and enjoy the pitcher of ale he was sharing with the King, that his friend finally gave him reason for concern.

"I would like to name you Lord of the Stormlands tonight at well."

He tensed immediately.

"I'm not—" ready, Gendry thought but couldn't say, knowing it was poor excuse, but since he couldn't leave it at that, instead he said, "It's too soon, your Grace."

Jon frowned, if that was possible, considering he was his usual broody self.

"Time is in short supply, Gendry. I wish it could wait, but—" He trailed off, and for a moment it did not seem as if he planned on saying more.

"The realm is one now, we all are playing our part and now you must as well."

Gendry was not dense enough to misunderstand that the King meant himself, and though they were both bastards and of near age, Jon had done much more with his life, but he'd done little more than weld metal. He was still no one, no matter what blood ran through his veins.

He took a long gulp of the ale in his flagon, the alcohol only helped to bolster his feelings, so the words rushed out of his mouth before he could think better of them.

"I'm only a bastard from Fleabottom, just because the King fucked my mother doesn't make me a Baratheon."

King Jon froze like the words had been directed at him. For a moment, something like doubt—or perhaps a sudden realization—flickered on his face, and for a reason he could not explain, Gendry knew it had nothing to do with him.

"No, but it does make you the last of their bloodline," He finally answered, seeming as if the answer was not easy for him to admit. "Who but you should guard their lands?"

The answer came easily, though his voice sounded deep and affected, "Someone fit for the position, more capable."

The King sighed suddenly exasperated, "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the kingdom is short of High Lords these days, otherwise the Queen may not be forced to give the Twins to Lord Bronn."

And just as the King's scorn appeared so did it leave, his expression solemn as usual as he spoke again.

"I leave the decision to you, whether you intend on taking the name, or forging a new one, because you cannot remain a Rivers."

He knew this already of course, he could not be lord of the Stormlands as a bastard from the Riverlands.

"How about Storm then, your grace?" He asked, hoping the question would also be understood as the answer the king wanted.

Acceptance.

King Jon let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief, as if the burden on his shoulders had lessened just that little bit, and Gendry knew he had. Then he spoke.

"It was my impression that there was someone for whom you wanted to be more than just a bastard."

Gendry froze, wondering how King Jon seemed to know that, as he'd never truly intimated anything, not consciously in any case. Afraid his true motives had been discovered, he couldn't find his voice let alone the right words to speak.

His friend did not seem to expect an answer, "When you've decided, send word to Orwen or Rolan."

Gendry still could not speak, and the King used the moment to refill both their cups, to which he gladly took another sip. He could not imagine himself as 'Gendry Baratheon' and yet, choosing another seemed equally daunting. He thought of Arya then, knowing what he wanted to be for her. He was a bastard, but he didn't have to remain one. In an effort to distract himself for the moment, he decided to focus on his other concern.

"And the Queen?" Gendry asked, not having forgotten the Targaryen, even despite the fact that he'd never actually spoken to her.

The question was vague, but his friend seemed to understand.

"Has no condition on what you choose."

So she already knew then. Gendry wondered if his heritage worried her, and vowed to find a way to tell her he had no eye on the throne.

"I'm more worried she'll have my head," He admitted, half in jest, though there was very clearly an undercurrent of worry in his tone.

King Jon didn't address it, only smiled, small and barely there as his custom, before he spoke.

"I wouldn't worry, she prefers fire." Then Jon finally took a sip from his own cup, seemingly ending the conversation there.

"That makes me feel loads better," Gendry couldn't help but add, finally smirking himself, though he hadn't completely shaken the concern from his mind.

. . .

It was a couple days later when King Jon made his second request.

You wish me to go to the Vale?"

King Jon nodded, "To escort Sansa's cousin back, and continue your training both in combat and everything else it means to be a lord. No better teacher than Lord Royce, these days anyway."

Now as Gendry Baratheon—he was not clever enough to make his own or perhaps he was more Robert's son than he expected—Lord of the Stormlands, a title which made him feel ridiculous, he was about to finally learn what that meant.

He'd never had much interest in seeing the Vale, and especially not the Eryie. While he wasn't afraid of heights, he'd hardly seen the purpose of going to the trouble of not dying to get there. But Gendry knew he was vastly underprepared for his new position, and would not contest this decision, not since it made sense.

"I'd also like you to keep an eye on matters there for me," King Jon added on a serious note.

Gendry nodded, knowing what the King truly meant, as he knew better than most, of being careful in who you trusted, regardless of the type of person they seemed to be. Power was a great corrupter, of even the best of men. Lord Royce was being given a great load, rule of a kingdom and caretaker of the last Arryn left, it would be foolish to not to send someone, and Gendry only hoped he could live up to the trust he'd been given.

He made just one request, he would not return to the castle until the war ended, nor would he accept any retinue but a squire. King Jon reluctantly agreed.

They left a few days before Lady Sansa's wedding of which he couldn't help be grateful. For one, he disliked the Lannister and wasn't particularly fond of weddings for another, regardless of the abundance of food and ale.

The road was hard and cold, but the weather grew warmer the more South they went, though it did not get hot enough for him to remove his cloak. The season had changed, green was replaced with red, orange and yellow, the warm tones of fall, the Starks were right after all, winter was coming, and quickly.

He kept to himself mostly during the journey, though he did try to keep up with Lord Royce and even spoke to Robin Arryn a couple of times, though they weren't particularly long, mostly the boy spoke of how excited he was to return to the Eyrie.

So by the time they reached the Crossroads Inn to rest for the night, he couldn't help but hope that Hot Pie was still there, baking oddly shaped bread. Even though he'd been on his own for a lot of his life, and was used to it, he longed for familiar company.

In the end, he was not disappointed, but it had been Hot Pie, now Hallys apparently, to recognize him. It was later, after the majority of his party had retired, including little Lord Arryn and Lord Royce, that they managed to truly speak to one another.

"So where you been all this time?" His old friend asked almost as soon as they had settled at a table.

Gendry smiled a little sardonically, unsure exactly how to sum up everywhere he'd been. He decided on the essentials.

"The Riverlands for a time, but I've been in the North since."

Hot Pie—Hallys he reminded himself— chuckled, looking at him with amusement.

"Missed her that much didya?"

He felt a shock of surprise and stilled for half a moment.

"The Lannisters were looking for me, wasn't safe for me in the South," He finally answered, trying to seem unconcerned, and took a long sip of ale to disguise his true feelings.

Hot Pie—new name be damned—nodded, still grinning as if he didn't truly believe him.

"So you heading back to the Riverlands now since she's not there?"

"No, I'm heading—" Gendry paused then, his friend's words suddenly registering in his mind.

"How do you know she's not in the North?"

Hot Pie paused for the slightest of moments before he took a sip from his flagon, and shrugged, "I'm not supposed to say, but she thinks you dead, I'd say that excludes you, yeah?"

He felt a twist in his stomach. It couldn't be, could it?

"Who thinks I'm dead?" He managed to ask.

"Arry," Hot Pie answered casually.

"I mean Arya," He corrected himself after a moment.

The twist turned into a wrench, and for a moment he couldn't breath, though his heart continued to beat hard and fast.

"You saw Arya?"

He seemed oblivious of Gendry's change, for which he was grateful, as Hot Pie answered, "Not long ago, came to the inn for the night. Said she was looking for the brotherhood, said they owed her."

This managed to suddenly distract him, what could they possible owe her?

So he asked,"Owed her what?"

His friend shrugged. "The brotherhood owes everyone somethin' didn't think to ask."

Gendry accepted this answer easily, as it was entirely too true, and if he was being honest, they owed him something as well.

"And where did you send her?" He asked, needing to know.

"Well last I heard, the brotherhood was shacked up in Sallydance. S'what Anguy told me anyway, 'n what I told her."

Gendry could not suppress the smile that suddenly filled his face.

"That's not too far from here."

. . .

By the next morning he knew what he had to do, what he knew he would never be able to stop himself from doing. She was close, too close, to pass up such an opportunity would be a great irresponsibility on his part.

He spoke with Lord Royce as they broke their fast.

"There is a matter I must attend to, I must journey further South."

The elder man frowned as he spoke, "Is this a matter of the King or your own?"

Surely King Jon would want to know of his sister's whereabouts, and though it was hardly the true reason, he answered anyway, "It is."

The scowl smoothed out a little, so Gendry continued, "I won't be long, I will catch up with you all in a day or two."

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, as Lord Royce tensed once more.

"And I take you plan to do this all on your own am I correct in that assumption?" He asked, as he put down his utensils and pushed his plate away, abandoning his food, turning to look at him full on.

Under the scrutiny of the man's serious expression, he nodded, and felt compelled to say, "I can take care of myself."

Lord Royce smirked, looking amused by his words.

"With a father like King Robert, I do not doubt it, but the pass up to the Eyrie is dangerous, and it is not wise to do it alone."

Gendry opened his mouth to defend himself, to tell him that he knew of the danger, but the man did not let him.

"We'll give you two days, after which we'll depart. It is a few days journey until the road truly grows treacherous, be sure to reach us before then."

He wasn't entirely sure why Lord Royce was being so accommodating, maybe it was because he was a Lord himself, or because it was a matter of the King, but whatever the case, Gendry would not question it.

"Thank you Lord Royce." He said then, before he stood to leave, not wanting to waste any more time.

"In any case," He answered, looking up at Gendry and keeping him from leaving, "I will leave a retinue of ten men here should you not arrive in time."

He wanted to dispute this, but again didn't, only nodded, accepting this condition as well.

He'd already told his squire to prepare the horses, so they left only moments later. The sun was bright in the sky, and he felt himself smile, as he made his way back to the Riverlands, knowing he was finally heading towards her.

a/n: Haven't heard from Gendry in forever, and it's just a snippet, but there will be more soon. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated!