Gendry Baratheon

The palace was depressing.

The very idea of such a thing had surprised Gendry the first time it had crossed his mind, but now a week into living in the Red Keep the thought ran through his head nearly constantly. It seemed implausible that a bastard from the streets of Flea Bottom could describe a castle as depressing but when Gendry wandered the palace he was overcome with a deep longing to escape.

In Flea's Bottom, there was always something going on. There were children laughing or people arguing. The streets were never quiet and the buildings were so close together that even at night you could hear the neighbors snoring or fucking. Just a few weeks ago, Gendry's only escape had been his forge and even that couldn't be described as peaceful. He had never realized how much he craved the constant noise as a distraction from his own thoughts. The walls of the Red Keep were never filled with anything other than the echoes of his steps.

And when he was surrounded by people they didn't make the messy sounds of the common folk he was used to.

No, instead, they spoke sweet words. So sweet they made Gendry sick. The noble people of the castle used coy smiles and witty remarks to hide a darker poison. They would speak softly to Gendry as if they were afraid the walls would ricochet their barbs back at them. Gendry wasn't stupid. Even if he didn't understand what lay behind their words, he knew the tiny laughs the lords and ladies let escape as they walked away were malicious. It didn't take long for him to pick up on the nicknames. At first there was a large variety mocking everything from his lack of grace to his birth, but eventually, one nickname became the trend – bastard prince.

Gendry tried to avoid speaking with anyone now, which only lent itself to more silence. This didn't stop the nobles who surrounded him. Their words were just a prelude to their looks. They didn't even have the dignity to wait until his back was turned. No, whenever they saw him on his own, they looked down at him. Their necks somehow lengthening and their noses reaching for the sky. He had never seen anyone in such a pose before he came to the Red Keep. If he had been born here, he might have thought it was how a person was meant to stand. But he wasn't born here and he knew that their actions were purposeful and malicious. Still, for all the shame the nobles could force on Gendry, it was nothing compared to the servants.

The servants either weren't trained or didn't bother to hide their disgust. Gendry suspected it was the latter. Though the servants were far less inherently cruel and vicious, their barbs hurt more because they were administered by his people. There was no false kindness when it came to the butlers and chambermaids. Instead, they openly glared. Where the nobles were indigent, the servants were disgusted and it hurt so much more than the jabs of the lords and ladies. Gendry had been a servant, though never in a castle, so he had thought that the common folk of the Red Keep would be thrilled to see him. Not a single one of them was.

Gendry was surprised by this. If anything, he had expected the servants to be envious of his sudden rise in the ranks and possibly try to be even more friendly. Gendry tried to understand and he supposed that if he had been a blacksmith in the castle and one of his own was suddenly in line for the throne he would also be angry. As servants, they had always been told that they were less than and that's why they were quite literally at the bottom of the social ladder. Be it the old gods or the new, someone had decided that they weren't worthy. If one of their own suddenly was thrown into not just nobility but royalty, then what order was there in the world. Gendry assumed they saw him as a fake just as much as the nobles did, but in some ways, the servant's very sanity depended on it believing he had forced his way into the Red Keep rather than been given the right at birth. He sympathized with them when he realized this, so when Gendry heard the hushed whispers from the workers he pretended to not hear. The servants weren't as subtle as the nobles and it took more effort from Gendry but he still gave them some semblance of privacy by ignoring them.

In the first few days of his time at the Red Keep, Gendry had hoped to find comradery with his newly discovered siblings. After all, they had grown up bastards as well. Even if they weren't from the streets, all bastards in Westeros were seen as less than other children. How different could they truly be? Gendry quickly found out that even with the same placeholder surnames his siblings could be very different.

Edric was as bad as the nobles, even though he wasn't spared their teasing. The boy was either willfully ignoring or too dumb to see how the people he considered his peers looked down on him. Gendry felt pity for Edric. To be so ignorant of the world around you must be a terrible burden. One day Edric would have to face the reality and he would learn that he was not welcome, at least not as it stood. Edric was in no better position than Gendry, in fact as the younger of the two he was actually in a worse position. Gendry had more of a claim to the throne, something that still sent his mind into a spiral, but Edric acted as if he was born to be a king.

Frayrid was much sweeter. What Edric lacked in self-awareness, Frayrid made up for it. Even with her superior beauty to most other maidens in the Red Keep, she was still noticeably especially when it came to her looks. Gendry wondered, if she had been that way before coming to King's Landing or if it was a new trait brought on by the scrutiny. He thought that it might be new or at least increased dramatically. Frayrid was almost too aware of the nasty words being spoken about her, and they were so much worse than those being said about Gendry. The nobles discussed her maidenhood in detail and they tore apart her appearance. They called her an old maid though she was still quite young at only fourteen. With every evaluating look from the nobles, Frayrid seemed to shrink in size. So much so that Gendry wondered if she would disappear one day or if she already was beginning to. Gendry assumed she was driven to the same insanity that he felt, but he hadn't seen Frayrid outside of the forced group meals the king insisted upon.

After just a few days, Gendry began sequestering himself in his room, but even that was torturous. He was used to spending hours in the forge working his muscles. In his room, all he could do was sit. There was nothing else. He did have duties that he now filled his day, of course. Tutoring, manners training, and sword lessons took hours of his time, but even his tutors barely treated him as human and they clearly thought he was beneath their lessons.

There was really only one person who treated Gendry as if he was still in the forge, and that was Ned Stark. When Ned pulled Gendry aside for a chat, Gendry listened closely and Ned seemed to always be able to reassure him of his place in the palace. Even when they were just in the same room, Ned would look over to him right when Gendry was about to panic. The thought of Ned brought with it the thought of his children or more specifically one of his children – Arya.

The youngest Stark girl also seemed to look at Gendry differently, though not in the same way as her father. He had known Ned had children but he hadn't thought much of them. Though he had expected highborn children from a family as prominent as the Stark's to be much more refined than Arya seemed to be. Everyone was expected to be refined and then they hid their true feelings behind that. At the ball, Arya had been wearing her feelings on her sleeve. It had been refreshing and brought a smile to Gendry's face. Arya's gaze was unabashedly judging, but she seemed more curious about who he was not questioning the validity of why he was there. The questions she had were written on her face and she didn't care if he saw. Gendry wanted to answer everything she wanted to ask, though he suspected he might want to make her work for it just a little. Seeing her mind work would've been nice.

Gendry supposed that if they were given enough time away from the peering eyes of her father and sister she might ask him everything outright. Gendry liked the thought of that. It reminded him of the people he grew up with. She was rough around the edges and didn't care who knew it. Gendry wasn't sure if he felt exactly comfortable with her, but he wasn't uncomfortable and for the last week of his life that was a nice reprieve. Gendry hadn't seen Arya since that night but he found himself thinking about her regularly.

When he wandered the halls like he was now, it was the silence of his room that brought him out but it was the possibility of seeing her that kept him walking. He pushed his discomfort away with the simple anticipation of talking to her again. He let conversations between them fill his head to avoid thinking about what the nobles were saying.

He found himself looking towards every small figure with dark hair. He held his breath and wouldn't let it out of his chest until the person turned around revealing an unfamiliar face. He had only seen her once. She had been chasing a cat. By the time he realized it was her she was already gone without ever looking up long enough to see him.

He was wandering the halls now. Again, not necessarily because he wanted to see her but that could very easily be an added benefit. The halls seemed to be even quieter than normal almost as if the whole castle had a secret that they were afraid of letting out. Gendry walked around for nearly an hour before seeing a soul. When Gendry saw someone in the halls he ducked his head and avoided eye contact, which is why he was surprised when the person stopped in front of him and said his name.

"Me?" Gendry asked looking up to see King Robert's new squire. Lancel Lannister had been replaced just a few days after Cersei was arrested. Gendry had heard he was going to keep his spot originally but then one day the new squire had appeared. He didn't question the logic of the king or Ned and it's not like it impacted him in any way.

"Of course, my lord," the squire said then with a malicious smile he added, "You are the only Gendry in the palace. His Highness would like to see you in his chambers."

"Now?" Gendry asked.

"Past now. I have been looking for you for over a quarter of an hour," the squire said impatiently.

"I've been walking," Gendry said stupidly.

"The king should not be kept waiting," the squire said as if Gendry had purposefully been avoiding him and his audience with the king.

Gendry wanted to snap at the squire that he should have found him sooner than, but the king's impatience wasn't the squire's fault either and the outburst would only make them both feel worse. The squire was new to his job. He had been nice to Gendry for about an hour before realizing how everyone else in the palace treated the new prince and fell into step.

"Let's go then," Gendry said.

The squire nodded and then began quickly heading down the hall. The squire was a head shorter than Gendry but he somehow managed to move much faster. Gendry couldn't imagine how many strides the young man was taking because Gendry felt nearly out of breath by the time they reached the king's chambers, or at least that's what Gendry assumed they were. Gendry had never been to see the king. In fact, after his first day. He had never been alone with the man.

"What's he want?" Gendry asked the squire before he could open the door.

"It is not my place to ask or your place to question," the squire said only hesitating for a moment before pushing the door open.

Gendry expected the squire to enter first and possibly introduce him to the king. His supposed father obviously knew who Gendry was, but Gendry wasn't sure how to start a conversation with royalty. The squire would have been a nice buffer, but when the boy simply held the door open for Gendry, Gendry knew he would have to face this conversation alone.

"You summoned me, Your Highness?" Gendry said walking into the room and forcing himself to speak as his tutor had instructed.

"Yes, lad, sit down," the king said indicating towards the chair in front of him.

Gender took the seat feeling tiny in the presence of the king. Gendry had always been the largest of the boys his age and as he got older he never stopped growing. He was so tall and broad shoulders that by twelve adults often had to look him in the eye rather than down at him. He very rarely felt small but the man in front of him made him feel like a young boy again. Back when he was so tiny he had to stretch to hug his mother around her midriff. Back when his mother was still alive to hug him.

Gendry looked at the king and wondered if he ever hugged his trueborn children or more accurately the children he thought were trueborn. Gendry suspected not. Maybe jostles on the head or a rough pat to the shoulder, but not a loving hug. That kind of simple affection didn't seem to be in the man's nature. The thought made Gendry sad for the Lannister children and only increased his bitterness for the man in front of him.

"I've been hearing things," the kings said. The king continued not noticing or not caring about Gendry's discomfort.

"What sorta things, Your Highness?" Gendry asked. For a moment, he wondered if King Robert meant the noble's taunts.

"Whispers from the east," the king said. "Always whispers. I hate the bloody things can't be trusted, but I'm told that we need to be prepared."

"Prepared?" Gendry asked confused. "Prepared for what, Your Highness?"

"Cut out that Your Highness shit. I don't like hearing it," the king said. "We, both you and I, must be prepared for a usurper trying to take the throne. The Targaryens may be looking to take back what they lost."

"Targaryens? Ain't they dead?" Gendry asked for a moment forgetting his training in the proper way of talking. He knew of the family used to rule but he had thought they were all killed when Robert took the throne. Before coming to the palace he wouldn't have even known the name. The war was over before he could walk and the people on the streets only talked about a dragon king who would burn his subjects. They didn't need to know his name and he was only ever mentioned when being compared to Robert's failures as king. For most of Gendry's life, he assumed the dragon king was a myth.

"Don't you know your history, boy?" Robert asked looking annoyed. When Gendry didn't reply he huffed and continued. "Some are still alive and in the Free Cities to the east. Whispers occasionally make it back to us and according to those whispers, the Targaryens are looking to take back the throne. I have earned my claim, but you do not have the same strength."

"Oh," Gendry said unsure of how he was supposed to respond. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't be sorry, be better," the king said. Gendry had to bite his tongue not to respond that he would be much better at being a prince if he hadn't been left as a bastard on the streets and then subsequently pulled up from the streets to be an heir to the throne. The king continued uninterrupted by Gendry, "You need to learn your histories and manners and swords play. You have been training, haven't you?

"' Course," Gendry sputtered out.

"Well, learn faster," the king said. "We'll need to get you married soon and no woman is going to have you as you are. Though you are a handsome one aren't you? You take after me in that way."

"A wife?" Gendry said ignoring the king's insults and backhanded compliments. "Why do I need a wife?"

"You'll need to marry a highborn girl," the king said as if it were obvious then he laughed. "Don't look so devastated. They're virginal and are used to certain transgressions on their lord's parts. Just avoid the crazy ones like Cersei. Go with a quiet one, which shouldn't be too hard."

Gendry was speechless. Didn't the king realize that he was talking to the result of one of those transgressions? He didn't seem to. Without missing a beat, the king continued with his thoughts.

"Yes, you'll be just fine with a wife. It'll help legitimize you but before anyone will have you, you need to become more mannered and learned than you currently are. We need you to be a true prince or at least pretend, huh? Not too hard of a challenge. For a bastard prince, you're halfway there."

The king started laughing just as Gendry's stomach clenched. He couldn't respond, he could barely process what he had just heard. The bastard prince. The mocking title had made it to the king.