The chatter of the numerous lords and ladies penetrated the silence of the night, and the loud laughter echoed off the stone walls of the hall. Most of the noblemen and women, who had come to pay their respects to the late Jon Arryn, had left for home and duty in the previous days, but quite a sizeable crowd still remained. A large feast, complete with dancing and entertainment, had taken place every day for the last two weeks, and Gendry had to admit that Court had not been this much fun in quite some time.

Now that his friendship with Arya was repaired, the young boy finally had the inclination to join in on the merriment. A small smile ghosted his lips when he thought of his friend. He had missed her quiet terribly. The world had been too quiet, and he had had far too few bruises to contend with. The thought of her annoyed expression when he had beaten her in sparring earlier that day forced his lips into a smile.

Little by little, the crowd had decreased in numbers over the course of the night. Myrcella and Tommen had left for bed long ago, tiredness clouding their eyes. His younger brother and sister were not used to so much excitement and entertainment. Gendry was glad of this distraction for poor Tommen, but he noticed that while the sadness in his green eyes disappeared for moments at a time; it always came rushing back with a vengeance eventually. Cersei, having seen their heavy eyes- Tommen had narrowly escaped face-planting into his dessert as further warning to his tiredness- had ordered them to bed when the meal had finished and followed them herself shortly thereafter. His father had not even lasted the meal, and Joffrey had disappeared soon after as well, leaving Gendry as the only remaining member of the royal family in the hall.

The prince sat at one of the oak tables, which was occupied by a number of other young men, listening to their japes and anecdotes. The atmosphere was light, and the lively talk of his companions put a smile on his face. The men were well and truly in their cups at this stage, and the stories were becoming more and more scandalous and outrageous with each passing second. At this point of the evening, Gendry could not even tell if they were speaking the truth or not.

"They say King Robert is likely to appoint Lord Mace Tyrell as Hand of the King," one man commented on a more serious note as he took a swig from his skin of sourwine.

"I believe it to be true," Gendry replied. His father had not spoken to him directly about the matter, but the castle whispers seldom lied, and Lord Tyrell seemed like a logical person for the position.

"Speaking of our beloved king, where is he this evening?" Lord Beric Dondarrion asked.

"I believe the whores in Chataya's brothel have the pleasure of his company," Gendry's Uncle Renly chimed in, his tone light and playful. "Did I tell you Robert tried to drag me to a brothel once?" he added in a wry, low whisper to his nephew. "I'm not sure either of us has ever recovered."

The prince could not help but laugh, only stopping when he made accidental eye-contact with the hazel eyes of Margaery Tyrell. The girl was dancing gracefully with Lancel Lannister, but the prince did not miss how her eyes flickered often in his direction.

"She's a pretty girl," Renly said, following his gaze. "You could do a lot worse as a wife and as a queen. Ser Loras speaks quite highly of her."

Gendry stayed silent. In truth, he did not know how to reply. He had known Margaery Tyrell for what seemed like his entire life as she had often travelled with her father to King's Landing, and he had visited Highgarden once or twice for tourneys, but even then he could not imagine being married to her. Margaery seemed to be constantly surrounded by an entourage of cousins and other friends, and, although, she was always polite and charming in the few brief conversations they had had, Gendry sometimes got the oddest feeling that it was all a facade. The prince supposed being married to her in the future was probably an inevitability, especially now her father was going to appointed Hand of the King, but it was an inevitability that he did not care to think about.

"At least she has a more pleasing nature than her brother," Renly continued, giving a slight nod towards a young man sitting alone a few tables away, his cane resting against his lap. Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, was usually quite a good-humoured addition to any feast, but tonight he had politely refused Gendry's invitation to sit with him and the other young men, and he was doing absolutely nothing to hide the look of melancholy that had taken up residence on this face. "He looks like he has been sucking on a sour lemon all evening. Someone give the poor man a peach."

"Rumour has it that he has a lady love in town," Ser Alyn Estermont interjected, a slight knowing smirk gracing his features.

Renly did not say anything in response, but his expression said it all. Willas could romance the girl all he wanted, but he would never in a million years be allowed to marry her. From the slight flash of pain that passed through Renly's bright blue eyes before he schooled his expression into something more guarded, Gendry suspected that it was a truth he knew all too well.

The young prince hoped it was a truth he would never have to find out for himself.

When the servant delivered the message that his father and Queen Cersei wished to speak with him, Gendry felt an immediate sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. It was no secret that the king and queen bore no love for each other whatsoever, and seemed to be physically repulsed by spending too much time in the other's company, so if they were willingly in the same room together then it must be a serious situation. Combining that knowledge with the fact that Joffrey had been absent for their lessons that morning, and Gendry was certain he knew what incident they wanted to discuss. Gritting his teeth, the prince walked down the hall to meet them.

In the hallway, he found Myrcella. The princess's fists were clenched by her sides - the fierceness of her stance reminding him of Arya - which contrasted greatly with the apology that swelled in her green eyes as they met his. "I tried to tell them-," she said.

"I know," Gendry replied, and he didn't doubt for a second that she actually had. There were a few things Myrcella was scared of, but Joffrey was not one of them. In fact, she was one of the few people brave enough to openly acknowledge what Joffrey was really like.

"Why don't they ever listen?" she asked, a tinge of sadness mixed in with the anger of her tone.

Gendry sincerely wished he had an answer for her.

As he stepped inside the room, Gendry was struck by the distinctly chilly atmosphere. King Robert Baratheon sat behind the hand-carved oak table, which faced the doorway, his expression grim. Two members of the Kingsguard stood behind him, close to the wall, one to his left and one to his right, Barristan Selmy standing tall and proud. His father raised bloodshot eyes to focus on Gendry the moment the prince entered the room, and Gendry could tell just by looking at him that he was much too hungover to handle this situation. Gendry did not doubt that all his father wanted to do was to retire back to bed until at least the late afternoon.

Prince Joffrey sat to the right of the king, and the golden-haired boy smirked at Gendry when their eyes met. The black-haired boy felt a surge of anger rush through him, but he bit his tongue to keep himself from lashing out at his younger brother. He hated being annoyed with Joffrey, but having Joffrey know that he had gotten to him was far worse.

Finally, his eyes settled on Cersei who was standing behind Joffrey, her slender hand resting on his shoulder. The queen shifted uncomfortably under the heat of his gaze, and Gendry did not fail to notice the slight stiffening of her back as she pretended not to care.

There was silence for a few moments before the king spoke, "I trust you know why you've been summoned here today. Joffrey tells me that you two got in some kind of fight."

"He attacked me," Joffrey corrected, his green eyes gleaming with arrogance.

Gendry rolled her eyes. "It's not like I was not provoked," he retorted. "Did he tell you he killed Tommen's kitten?"

The older prince saw Cersei's eyes flicker for just a second. You know he did it just as much as I do, Gendry thought, and he wished he could go up to her and shake some sense into her. Sometimes Gendry thought that Joffrey's character was being wounded by a mother whose weapon was indulgence, and a father whose apathy was a curse. Both of Joffrey's parents chose to bury their heads in the sand rather than to deal with his behaviour and that fact almost made Gendry feel sorry for his younger brother.

"You have no proof that he did any such thing," Cersei answered flatly, "and I will not hear any other false accusations against my son."

Robert pinched his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, before focusing his bright blue eyes again at his oldest son. "You will apologise to your brother, and we will be done with it," he ordered.

When Gendry was a child, people used to tell him stories of the brave and good man his father had been. They told him how he had risen up in revolt against the Mad King Aerys and rid the world of his evilness, but this was not the man from those tales.

This man was a shadow of the man they had described.

The Robert Baratheon from those stories and songs, the brave and noble warrior, would never have sat back and let Joffrey act like this. And Gendry found himself longing for the father he could have had rather than the apathetic man before him, the man who preferred wallowing in his own memories of the past over being a good father in the present.

"Why in Seven Hells am I supposed to be sorry, when he so obviously is not?"

"You will do as I say, boy," the king spat.

"Is this really your idea of parenting?" Gendry asked, letting out a mirthless chuckle before continuing, "You are as miserable a father as you are a king."

"Dare not speak like that in front of me again," the king said, rising to his feet and knocking over his cup of wine as he went, "Or I promise to beat you bloody."

"I'd like to see you try," Gendry countered, his blood boiling even as the king's eyes flashed dangerously, and Cersei's mouth twisted in distaste. "You cannot turn your head the other way for his entire life. He is going to end up a monster, and you will be the ones to blame."

"That is enough!" King Robert snapped. "Go to your chambers, and don't let me see you for the rest of the day, or I'll make good on that promise."

"Gladly," Gendry said. As he turned to leave, he caught a glance of Joffrey's smirk out of the corner of his eye, and it made Gendry's anger burn brighter and fiercer.

The young prince swore he would never let Joffrey hurt Myrcella or Tommen again.

It was Tyrion who found him hours later as he sat on the edge of Traitor's Walk, dangling his feet off the bridge.

The dwarf sat down beside him, and Gendry felt immensely grateful for his company, his thoughts having provided little comfort to him. When Tyrion offered the young prince a skin of sourwine, the black-haired boy immediately shook his head, but Tyrion persevered, "One sip of wine won't turn you into him," he assured, "Besides you certainly look like you could use some."

"Thank you," the boy said, raising the skin to his lips. The liquid hit the back of his throat with a powerful force, making the young prince cough slightly, and it left a tangy taste behind in his mouth, but Gendry found he was grateful for the way it made his thoughts blur after a few mouthfuls. Mayhaps, this is why his father drank so much; to forget. In his slight haze, Gendry thought mayhaps that wasn't such a bad reason.

The prince did not know how long they sat there in silence, and despite the alcohol running through his veins, there was one question that plagued his mind. It was common knowledge that Tyrion Lannister had a strained relationship with his father, even though that was putting it mildly, so Tyrion was the only one he trusted with it.

"Tyrion?" he asked.

"Yes?"

Gendry swallowed thickly, "How do we forgive our fathers?"

"For which sin?" The dwarf's short laugh was devoid of all humour.

The prince considered this for a moment before answering. "For not being the people we wish they were," he said finally, slightly hesitant in his words.

Tyrion's only reply was a loaded sigh which held a lifetime of feelings in its midst.

The silence of the night brought no answer with it either, and Gendry thought that mayhaps there wasn't an answer to be found.

Just a quick note to thank you all for reading and reviewing! I really hope you are liking the story so far! :)