The king held the sword in his hand. Valyrian steel. He had only seen Valyrian steel once before, while working in Tobho Mott's shop at the top of the Street of Steel. He knew this was his old master's mark. As he remembered, Mott was one of three or four steel masters in the world who could manipulate Valyrian steel. It made sense that he would rework Ice in King's Landing.

Tommen had left it in his bedchamber for him to find with a scroll, thanking him for a fitting match for his betrothal. He felt the sword brought him shame and wished for it to be returned to its rightful owners. Widow's Wail, Joffrey had named it; roughly 2/5 of the Stark ancestral sword, Ice. Gendry sheathed the sword and exited his chamber. He knew who to give it to, after alterations of course.

Walking through the halls, accompanied by Ser Andrew Estermont and Ser Podrick Payne, he wondered how the boy would react when he first met him. He was wild, his knights had told him, as was the woman. The direwolf was even worse.

"Fine sword, Your Grace." Stannis Baratheon had fallen into step next to Gendry while he was lost in thought. His uncle was looking down at the hilt. "Lannister, isn't it?"

The three golden lion heads that made up the hilt were a giveaway of that. Gendry replied, "Was a Lannister sword. Forged from the Stark sword, Ice."

"Ah. And you intend to return it to the Starks." His uncle said, nodding.

"After I have the hilt altered, of course." Gendry just looked at Stannis, hoping he would tell him why he was there. Stannis finally did.

"The trial nears, Your Grace."

Gendry nodding, looking forward again. "Yes, Lord Stannis."

"And, who is on the jury?" Stannis asked boldly.

"None but me, as of now." Gendry admitted. Stannis just nodded. "But, I plan on appointing Lord Jaime…"

"Lord Jaime? Are you mad?"

"Rein your tongue, Lord Stannis." Ser Andrew roared, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Stannis gave him a look and raised an eyebrow. "I meant nothing by it, Ser." Stannis replied.

Gendry smiled and said, "Yes, Lord Jaime will be one of the jurors. He hates Cersei and wants to see her punished for her crimes. But, I will give you the honor too, if you'll have it."

"It would be my pleasure, Your Grace." Stannis said. He would have smiled if he were a normal man. But Stannis was as cold as the winds that howled at Dragonstone.

"Is that all, Uncle?" Gendry asked as they neared the Great Hall. He didn't wish for Stannis to see what waited there for him.

"Yes, Your Grace." With those simple words, his uncle gave him a queer look before making his leave.

Gendry stood in front of the Hall's doors and took a deep breath. He honestly didn't know how to handle this. Ser Andrew's hand was on the door handle, waiting for the king's orders. None came. Ser Andrew asked, uncertainly, "Your Grace?"

Gendry looked at Ser Podrick and handed him the Valyrian steel sword. "Take this to Tobho Mott on the Street of Steel. Tell him to keep it safe and I will come meet with him before the day is up."

Podrick nodded and scurried away with the sword. Gendry turned back to the doors and took another full minute, just staring at the wood, before saying, "Open the doors."

Ser Andrew did so dutifully, shoving the two oak doors apart. Gendry strode into the room like he had been born to, which he certainly had not been. The room looked ordinary except for the black wolf in chains and the rest of his kingsguard surrounding a young boy with shaggy brown hair and a woman with wild eyes. Gendry approached them and motioned for his men to give the two some room. His kingsguard took five paces back but Brienne stayed where she was with the direwolf's chains in hand.

The boy stared at him hard, angry with his circumstances. The woman stood with a blank expression on her face; Gendry wondered why. Six knights stood by, the ones who found Rickon Stark and his wildling protector. Ser Rolland Storm stepped forward at the king's approach and spoke without permission. "We found the Stark boy and the wildling on Skagos, just as the Hand thought, Your Grace."

"The bitch got a dagger in Ser Mark Mullendore before any of us could react, Your Grace." The young Ser Hugh Beesbury said, glaring at the wilding woman. She looked back at him with an almost-smirk on her face. "You should lock her in the dungeons and be done with her. The boy too, just as wild. The wolf's beyond hope I fear."

"You don't tell the king what to do." Ser Andrew said, eying Ser Hugh reproachfully. "Nor do you advise him. That is for his small council."

Gendry held up a hand to silence his father's cousin. "It's quite all right, Ser Andrew. But, Ser Hugh, I shall not be doing any of the sort. This boy is the brother of my lady…"

The young boy burst out hopefully, "Is Sansa here?"

The king smiled as he shook his head, "No, little lord, Arya is."

"Arya?" Rickon asked.

"Yes, Lord Stark. Arya is here. Sansa is in Winterfell."

"Winterfell's burned. Saw it meself." Osha said, eyes narrowing skeptically.

"Burned things can be rebuilt." The king said. The wildling remained set in her way.

Gendry turned his attention to the youngest Stark. He was wild; more wild than Arya. Rickon was a young boy of ten, he had been raised by the wildling woman in many ways. His father had left Winterfell when he was six, his mother not too long after that. He himself had left the burned fortress a year after when he was merely seven or eight. Gendry didn't know which. Rickon was, in most senses of the word, a wildling.

The king crouched down to Rickon's height and said, "You're Rickon Stark, are you not?"

The boy stared at him stubbornly before replying with a harsh, "Yes."

"You went north from Winterfell with your brother, Brandon Stark, after Theon Greyjoy took your home, yes?"

Another harsh, "Yes."

"Brandon Stark is dead, yes?"

This time, Rickon answered back not harshly but softly, "Nothing can kill Bran. He's alive."

"Where?"

"In wildling country." The woman answered. "My country."

"The king didn't ask you to speak!" Ser Andrew spat, hitting her across the legs with the blunt edge of his sword.

Gendry grabbed his wrist and said, "If you ever strike the lady again, I shall remove your sword hand, Ser."

"My apologies, Your Grace."

"It wasn't me you offended."

"No offense taken." The wildling said.

Gendry smiled at her. She was a tough one. She would have to be, growing up where she did. He asked, "What's your name?"

"Osha."

"And how are you so certain of Brandon Stark's whereabouts?" He asked pleasantly enough.

"We parted not far from the Wall. That's where he said he was going and beyond. I tried to talk him out of it, I swear, m'lord. But he wasn't havin' it."

Gendry nodded. "Where was he headed?"

Osha shrugged. "Alls he said was he was goin' north to meet the three eyed raven."

"What's the three eyes raven?"

"You never 'eard the tale?"

Gendry shook his head.

"Don't listen to anything this heathen says, Your Grace. She's been spoutin' tales since Skagos." Ser Hugh cautioned.

Gendry held up a hand to silence the knight. "Tell me, my lady."

"I ain't no lady, but I'll tell ya all the same, m'lord."

"And I ain't no lord, but I'll listen all the same, Osha."

The wildling woman smiled and was about to tell but the young Stark boy tugged on her sleeve and said, "I want to tell!"

"Go ahead, little lord."

Rickon began excitedly, "The three-eyed raven is linked with the power of greensight." He stared into the king's eyes. "Those with the Sight can see the future and the past. Osha says we Starks can do it 'cause we have the blood of the First Men in our veins."

"Aye," Osha cut him off. "But not all of you 'ave it. Just like not all the free folk 'ave it, little lord."

Gendry nodded and said, "Brandon has the Sight?"

"Yes."

"And what's the significance?"

Rickon shrugged. "Bran thought it important."

Gendry didn't think anything of it. Brandon Stark was long gone, unfindable unless he wished to be found. Gendry wouldn't waste any resources on him, not now. Not while his kingdom was still so new and rocky. He still had some foes to vanquish, like the Greyjoys and he still had to make peace with the Martells. But how to do the latter was the true problem…

He realized that all eyes were on him and he thought quickly, "Lord Stark, would you like to see your sister?"

Rickon smiled, truly smiled for the first time and nodded vigorously.