Chapter Four

GENDRY

Bran Stark had not woken. He wasn't dead, but he still slept. Gendry leaned against the stone balcony where he had stood with Arya the night before, his heart heavy. He was not an optimistic person, and neither was Arya, but the way she had looked at him last night, with all that hope and fear in her stormy grey eyes… he couldn't bring himself to tell her that Bran was probably lost to her forever. But he couldn't bring himself to lie, either, so he had said nothing. He had never felt more useless than in that moment.

The door opened behind him, and Gendry turned to find Lord Stark exiting the room. His eyes looked bruised underneath, as though he hadn't slept all night. Gendry felt his stomach twist in sympathy, and – he was ashamed to admit – the smallest bit of envy. He doubted that his own father would look so distraught if something had happened to him.

"My lord," he called. He took great care to enunciate the words. As Arya had pointed out, a king's bastard shouldn't be speaking like a street urchin from Flea Bottom. Even though, in Gendry's heart, that was still exactly what he was. Eddard Stark turned, and immediately spotted him. He was hard to miss, after all.

"Gendry." He took a couple of steps towards the younger man. "Do you need something?"

"No, my lord. I was just… I was wondering if there's been any change with Bran."

Ned Stark sighed. "Nothing yet. The maester says that if he makes it through the night he could well recover. Though none of us know what state he'll be in when he wakes up."

"I'm so sorry that this happened," Gendry said. He meant it, too. He hadn't known Bran Stark long, but it was long enough to see that he was a sweet, kind boy. He didn't deserve this fate. A fate that may not have been as accidental as it seemed.

Gendry shook that horrible thought from his head as Lord Stark bade him thanks and left. He stood there for a moment, staring at Bran's door. He would have prayed to the gods if he thought it would've made any difference. But Gendry Baratheon was nothing if not realistic. The gods might've been watching, but they were either too cruel or too uninterested to answer any prayers, particularly the unspoken prayers of a bastard boy.

"And here, look. The bastard boy comes to give the Starks his condolences, and my repulsive nephew is yet to make an appearance. Apparently being raised a prince doesn't engender courtesy as much as being born to a tavern wench."

Gendry felt a half-smile on his lips as he heard the familiar drawl from behind him. He did not bother to turn around. He knew who would be standing there. "Lord Tyrion. What brings you up here?"

"The same thing as you, no doubt." A long shadow fell across the path of the lantern light, and for a moment, Tyrion Lannister stood as tall as Gendry himself. He was almost surprised at having to look down at the Imp when he finally came into view. "I'm here to call on poor young Bran."

"Have you not done that already?"

"I have. But I don't do it out of obligation, so here I am again."

Gendry tilted his head curiously at the half man. "What do you do it out of then?"

"Genuine sympathy, Gendry." He nodded his pale head towards the tall man. "As, I suspect, are your motivations. You seem troubled."

"It's troubling." Gendry bit his lip. "And Arya – I mean, Lady Arya – she was up here last night, praying to the old gods and the new, just desperate for somebody to listen."

"Lady Arya was, was she?" The knowing glint in Tyrion's gaze was off-putting. The glimmer of good humour faded the longer he regarded Gendry with his mismatched eyes. "A word of warning, my dear boy. Best not to get too attached to pretty things that aren't designed for men of our calibre. I've learned that lesson the hard way on more than one occasion."

Gendry bit down harder on his lip. He knew full well that he had no business getting attached to Arya Stark. That didn't seem to stop him from seeking her out, though. "Thanks for the advice."

"No problem." Tyrion sighed. "Jon Snow leaves for the Wall today."

"So I hear." Arya wasn't at all happy about it. She had near chewed Gendry's ear off ranting about the injustice of it all.

"Such a shame," Tyrion continued. "The poor boy has his head filled with ideas of grandeur and glory. He doesn't realise that he'll be breaking bread with all of the scum that Westeros didn't know what to do with anymore."

"Maybe he does, and maybe he doesn't care," said Gendry, feeling suddenly defensive of his friend. "You don't give him enough credit."

The Imp watched him for a second, an unfathomable look on his face. "Perhaps he is not the only one that I could be guilty of doing that with," he muttered. Before Gendry could make heads or tails of the comment, Tyrion Lannister swung on his heel and beckoned Gendry to follow. "Come along, we should eat something before the food is gone entirely."

The meal that had been set out for the guests lacked the usual warmth and care that Gendry had come to expect at Winterfell. He and Tyrion seated themselves at the high table, uninvited, where the Queen, her youngest two children and the Kingslayer broke their fast. Talking in low, hushed voices as they were, they barely noticed the new arrivals. Not that that was anything new for Gendry. He often went unnoticed in a room full of Lannisters.

"Is Robert still abed?" Tyrion asked. Cersei looked at him with that hateful expression she always wore when she looked at her dwarf brother.

"The king has not slept at all. He is with Lord Eddard. He has taken their sorrow deeply to heart."

Gendry was glad of that, at least. In a court full of snakes, at least his father managed to hang onto a few good characteristics.

"He has a large heart, our Robert." Jaime Lannister grinned, although what could possibly amuse him about this situation Gendry didn't know, or want to know. He had never really trusted Jaime.

Tyrion twisted awkwardly in his seat as a servant approached. "Bread," he instructed, "and two of those little fish, and a mug of that good, dark beer to wash it down. Oh, and some bacon. Burn it until it turns black. And the same for Gendry here, except don't cremate his bacon quite so much."

The servant nodded and departed. Gendry shot the Imp a grateful smile. He didn't much care for the fish, but the gesture was kinder than he'd come to expect from anyone with the Lannister name.

Little Prince Tommen shot Gendry a cheerful wave, which he returned. Tommen was easily Gendry's favourite of his half-siblings. Myrcella was sweet, but a little airheaded. Joffrey was a vile creature. But Tommen was a gentle soul. He almost reminded Gendry of Bran Stark.

Funnily enough, the next words out of the little prince's mouth were just those. "Do you have any news of Bran, Uncle?"

Tyrion shrugged. "No change, although the maester thinks that to be a good sign."

"I don't want Brandon to die," Tommen said, voice quivering.

"Lord Eddard had a brother named Brandon as well," Jaime interjected, stroking his chin in a thoughtful manner. "One of the hostages taken by Targaryen. It seems to be a rather unlucky name."

"Oh," Tyrion said, leaning back as the servant set his and Gendry's plates in front of them. "Not so unlucky as all that, surely."

"What do you mean?" It was the queen who spoke, and her emerald eyes looked sharp as knives. Gendry shuddered, remembering Arya's words to him the night before.

"Only that Tommen may get his wish. The maester says the boy may yet live."

The children beamed in delight, but Gendry didn't miss the swift glance between the queen and Ser Jaime. Neither, apparently, did Tyrion. He took a sip of his beer to mask it, but Gendry saw the Imp's face twitch slightly in his peripheral vision.

Cersei dropped her gaze. "That is no mercy. These northern gods are cruel to let the child linger in such pain."

"What were the maester's words?" Jaime asked.

Tyrion chewed on his bacon for a moment, considering. If Gendry didn't know any better, he would've thought that the little man enjoyed his siblings' obvious discomfort. "He thinks that if the boy were going to die, he would've done so already."

"Will Bran get better, Uncle?" It was Myrcella, full of wide-eyed hope. Gendry thought she was nothing like her mother, thank the gods for that.

"His back is broken, little one. His legs shattered as well. They keep him alive with honey and water, or else he would starve to death. Perhaps he will eat real food if he wakes, but he will never walk again."

"If he wakes…" The queen lowered her goblet slowly. "Is that likely?"

"The gods alone know. The maester only hopes." Tyrion trailed off into contemplative silence, chewing his bread. Gendry followed suit, diverting his gaze from the icily beautiful face of the queen. It made him uncomfortable to look directly at her for too long, mainly because he was never sure if she would bite him like an angry viper. And, like a viper, he was fairly sure that her teeth would be venomous.

"That bloody wolf keeps howling something awful," Jaime put in.

"I think it's what's keeping Bran alive," Gendry murmured. Cersei shot him a sharp, censured look.

"I won't be having any of those wretched creatures coming with us when we travel south," the queen said. "They're dangerous."

"You'll have a hard time stopping them, sister," Jaime pointed out. "They follow those girls everywhere."

"Are you leaving soon, then?" Tyrion asked, sipping his beer.

Everyone at the table turned to look at him in shock. "Are we leaving?" Cersei demanded. "Do you mean to say you aren't coming with us? Good gods, you don't plan on staying here?"

"Benjen Stark is returning to the Night's Watch. He's taking his bastard nephew with him. I thought I might go and see this Wall we have all heard so much of."

Gendry's eyebrows lifted, just as his heart sank. Tyrion was the only member of the queen's family he could stand to have a conversation with. "You're not taking the black, are you?"

Tyrion turned to grin at Gendry. "What, and go celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I just want to stand on the top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."

Cersei stood suddenly with the deafening screech of chair on stone. "The children don't need to hear your filth. Tommen, Myrcella, come."

With that, she strode from the room, trailing her children behind her. Gendry remained seated, mostly because he would rather sit and eat with the Lannister brothers, but also because he would hardly be welcome to follow even if he wanted to.

"Stark will never consent to leave Winterfell with his son lingering in the shadow of death," Jaime said.

"He will if Robert commands it," Tyrion ventured. "And he will command it. There's nothing Lord Stark can do for the boy in any case."

"He could end his torment."

Gendry cringed at the thought, but Tyrion merely gave his brother a rueful smile. "I would advise you not to say that to Lord Stark."

"Yes, but even if he does live, the boy would be a cripple. A grotesque. Give me a good, clean death any day, over that," Jaime sighed, sipping from his tankard.

"Speaking for the grotesques," Tyrion said, "I would have to disagree. Death is so terribly final, whereas life is full of possibilities."

Gendry laughed into his beer. Jaime even cracked a grin.

"You are a perverse little imp, aren't you, brother?"

"Yes. Personally, I hope the boy does wake. I would be interested to hear what he has to say."

The smile slid off Jaime's face. Gendry felt that prickling sensation at the back of his neck once more. It was the feeling that something horrible lurked behind Jaime's cool green eyes. Jaime lowered his voice, so that Gendry had to struggle to catch his next words. "My dear brother, sometimes I have to wonder whose side you're on."

"My dear brother, you wound me. You know how much I love my family."

Gendry stared down at his food, all sense of appetite gone. It felt as though there was a stone resting in the pit of his stomach, and all the time, he kept thinking of one thing only.

Arya was right.

A/N: Some of the dialogue here is seen in A Game of Thrones. This was sort of a filler chapter, because obviously the most important things going on before we leave Winterfell are from Arya's perspective.

Until next time!