#gendry.

[forgaeven1]

❛ i've no business with ye' than i have with the red lady and stannis baratheon— ❜ your grace, or my lord ? gendry couldn't even tell the difference now. had it mattered ? he had still lost arya, and king's landing will never be completely safe again.

they did that. the highborns, the blasted lot.

❛ m'just a smith. ❜

@fallesto — short starter call

[visenyaism]

all of the suspiciously blonde dragonseed peasants in flea bottom inheriting the haunting prophetic targaryen dragon dreams of the long night and the comet and the death and magical rebirth of the dragons reverberating back from Dany’s miracle but having literally no context for what’s happening so instead of committing summerhall about it they’re just like. ugh had the dream where the bald girl walked out of the fire again🙄 what’s the point

[motorway-south]

i’m gonna hold your hand when i say this…… many many people did tune into the current goings on of house baratheon…. it’s in a series called “a song of ice and fire”

[kat-rose-griffith]

So sorry that I wanted two characters that have been through trauma and loneliness to find happiness and love in the comfort that they have with each other. What a silly goose I was hoping for that

[laurellerual]

Day 6: 5 year skip proceeds au

They elope in the night, fleeing into the darkness, into the forest, guided by the incessant howling of the wolves. 

It was an impulsive decision made out of fear of marching north, home, only to be separated again by stupid lords and their stupid games.

They take their oaths in the freezing air of a misty morning, under a big oak. The trees around them and the embers of the fire are their witnesses

They are not dressed in embroidered cloaks, but in tattered war banners and golden leaves. There are no wreaths of winter roses, wildflowers will do.

There is no silk gown to slip off, just old boots, rusty chain mail stolen from a corpse. There is no featherbed, deep and soft, just the grass crisp with frost.

[perditty]

"You look different now. Like a proper little girl."

"I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns."

"Nice, though. A nice oak tree."

[tonyloom]

Gendrya doodle

[norakbubbles]

Sansa: If I fall…

Theon: I’ll be there to catch you.

Jaime: *looks at Brienne* What if I fall?

Brienne: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Gendry: *watches both interactions*

Gendry, to Arya: And if I fall?

Arya: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

[harwin-strong]

GAME OF THRONES - 2.02 "The Night Lands"

[stormborns]

GAME OF THRONES 3.05, Kissed By Fire

[forgaeven1]

‘ we can’t make any promises, but you can make me a drink. ’ from arya!

❛ a drink—? ❜ t' say his eyebrows 'ave gone upwards into his hairline would've been an understatement, though gendry tries, for all his might, t' not show his expressions as much. he reckons he didn't much succeed. s' one o' his biggest flaws, the ones he'd never much tried to correct, since he was a child. if tobho mott had been here, surely he'd knocked gendry head over from the lack o' manner. he isn't, though. master mott had passed years ago, a year in fact, after gendry's return to king's landing once he's escaped dragonstone. so much had changed since the last time.

he had grown. and, as he's slowly learning, so has she.

gendry's movement afterwards is slow. as if he's still tryin' to wrap the thought of her bein' anythin' more than the scrawny li'l princess he has had to keep safe, though of course, as soon as the memory comes, something sharp comes with it. that night in the cave. her teary request. his rejection o' it. you wouldn't be my family. you would be m'lady. and the day after. the day he was sold. the day he'd been taken away, ripped from her, only t' learn later that she'd never made it back to robb stark and the north bannermen. that she'd died. she must've had, 'cause there was no news of arya stark any longer; she'd died, and gendry's wrongdoing had died with her.

until she showed up years later, sittin' here right now, 'cross from him. bright, grey eyes and the very same dark hair, though longer.

she's different, he thinks. though of course she would be. it's years between them since. she's grown. she's grown, gendry tries hammerin' that into his head, numb. and, as it stands, she's old enough for a proper drink, is she ? funny, that. he grabs for the wine, somethin' sweet he wouldn't had otherwise — nor cared to, if he were honest — and pours it for her.

❛ you sure ye' aren't too short for it, m'lady ? with tha' size... ❜

@nightmaer — reputation (2017)

[forgaeven1]

it- it ain't always that someone takes whatever he's got to say with the level o'... of calmness, he could say.

no, usually, whenever gendry speaks the way he does, which he's sure isn't delivered fancily or anythin', just some bastard shootin' off the first thought that fleets his mind, people would either responded back in disdain. in arya's case, she would've ... she would've called him stupid. not meanly, or maybe not as meanly as other people would've meant it. no, with her, he knows it's almost purposeful; he knows it's their way of keepin' each other in check. he'd called her stupid too, for rushin' in too quick sometimes, for not always mindin' the fact she's a girl in a world where men would hurt little girls like her. especially those whose father was eddard stark.

this m'lady is playful; the kind of playful, gendry imagines, maybe he would've known more of had he been friendlier growing up. had he been more interested in making friends, in maintainin' them. it doesn't go over his head that they might be the same age, or at the very least, that their ages aren't far apart from each other. he couldn't remember spendin' time with someone who could be his peers without the tension of execution hangin' about like some ghosts, without any impendin' war over his head. her response makes her crack a small grin o' his head, which gendry redirects t' the floor of the snow-caked forest.

❛ yeah. ❜ he laughs a little, choked and short, though s' a laugh nevertheless. ❛ why not. not like we 'aven't seen worse comin' from the richmen, we did. ❜

and anyway, hadn't jaime feckin' lannister's hand made out of gold ? so really, the notion of it isn't too far off, he reckons. which gendry thinks is mad, anyways. like, fuck, the fucker probably deserves it, but t' give a former knight some useless heavy hand ? could it 'ven hold a sword ? gendry isn't sure. he didn't care enough to ask before, nor care enough t' have a discussion about it. there was no time, then. no interest. tha' was before the war o' the dead, though. s' startling, rememberin' all over again that he's not another corpse right now, ready for burnin'.

❛ well - you're a lady, aren't ya' ? and yer' da's a lord ? you've got land n' everything, i assume ? ❜ he doesn't know much about the houses, if he's honest. the boys and girls o' fleabottom, they don't learn this growin' up. they learn to scrap by, to find their strengths by fallin' mercy to the adults on their streets. gendry himself only knows the big houses : starks and lannister and tyrell and the like. but the vassals under 'em... that's trickier. he's lucky enough not to 'ave his tongue removed by the way he treated nearly everyone the same.

gods, his temper. davos said once it's so alike robert, the damn fat king.

❛ then yer' a highborn, no ma'er what people call ye'. ❜

the south, the lady speaks. right. they've got to do that. when yer under a banner, you follow your lord liege, ain't it. gendry had sworn himself to jon, to the north really, when he arrived here, but it all seems - pointless now. jon snow's besotted with the foreign dragon queen, and gendry trusts her as much as he trusts any o' the baratheons, had they still live - which isn't much at all. he can't imagine goin' 'ven if jon asks, or arya does. why should he ? he'd done his fight, hadn't he ? and, anyways, he didn't want the throne. other folks could spill blood for it, though. he's seen the devastation, and gendry doesn't think it's worth that much.

although —

❛ isn't- isn't yer da' alive ? then, shouldn't they send only men ? ❜ he asks aloud, confusion marring his questions, as he takes the damp cloth into his own two palms, sighing in relief at the warmth of it.

GENDRY’S OUTBURST MAKES HER GRIN. It’s absurd and rude and Meera quashes it before it can get too big. Not that she delights in his anger. She’s just surprised, is all, at his intensity. All this trouble to make a fire, when really she just had to ask him about home. Meera watches him speak in rapt fascination. After the blandness of the caverns, after the blankness in Bran’s eyes, she’s forgotten what it’s like to witness passion.

She leans in, sheltering close to this new kind of fire. It’s nice.

“Thousands?” Meera repeats. The warmth of the flames seeps into her voice, her smile. She ignores the direction his words were going before he trailed off and spins her own a completely different way. “How could someone even use all that gold? Smelt it down into a golden anvil, maybe?” There’s a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Or a golden frog-spear? There’s some fish that like the glint of shiny things, you know. Makes them curious. Easier to catch.” A pause; for a moment she seems like she’s genuinely considering this. “Not unlike us, I suppose.”

Meera’s gaze drops to Gendry’s hands, and she thinks she begins to understand. They’re still ash-black from the battle. No wonder it won’t leave him. He’s brought it all the way out to the pond. She reaches under her furs to pull out some of the bandage scraps she got from the healers. For when it’s time to change her dressings, they’d said. This is more important.

She reaches out to press the cloth into perfect, untouched snow. The cold bites at her fingers; she wrinkles her nose. When it’s drenched through and through, she picks it up, gives it a slight shake, then holds it next to the fire. Cradles it, really. Not close enough to burn out the wet, but enough to soak up the ice.

“Greywater Watch,” she says at last. The browns of her eyes begin to melt. “It’s a castle. Nothing so grand as Winterfell, but it’s home. You’re very kind, you know, to call House Reed highborn.” She flips the cloth so the fire can warm the other side. “Most anyone else would say mudmen.” A glance down at her attire. “I suppose I can’t blame them.”

Meera frowns, thinking.

“I — I’d like to go home.” Bran doesn’t need her anymore, it’s true. But. “House Reed is sworn to the Starks. And the Starks are marching south.” She gives Gendry a rueful sort of smile and tries not to think of her bruises. She is a hunter, not a soldier. The battle for the living had been close. If she goes south, she isn’t hopeful she will come back. “Maybe it won’t come to that. King’s Landing will see the dragons and surrender, I’m sure. They have to.” An undercurrent of terror snaps at her throat. Her eyes go distant for a moment. Then she refocuses.

“Here.” Meera tosses another log on the fire, then worms her way around to sit next to Gendry. Out of habit she reaches for his hands, but then she remembers he’s not Hodor, or Bran, or Jojen during a fit. An awkward moment passes; she tries to figure out what to do with herself. She settles for extending the damp cloth instead. “To clean off the dead, if you’d like. Don’t worry. It’s warm.”

[inwinterhell]

“If his lordship wants this helm, make him a gift of it. He honors you by asking.” “I made it for me”

“Whose sword is that?” “Mine.”

Same energy. Exact. Same. Energy.

[silverflameataraxia]

Sansa and Jeyne are the only people to call Arya ugly.

Meanwhile Ned, Jon, Gendry, Lady Smallwood, and the kindly man have all commented on her beauty, but this fandom ignores it in favor of two middle-school-aged mean girls who have to put Arya down to feel good about themselves.

[laurellerual]

Day 1: Contrasting Beginnings

At Winterfell they had called her "Arya Horseface" and she'd thought nothing could be worse.

...

"A smart boy, but stubborn. That helm … the others call him bullheaded, so he threw it in their teeth."

[jackoshadows]

It just hit me that GRRM wrote Gendry as literally Arya's knight in shining armor.

Hot Pie stepped out of the barn. "Arry, come on! Lommy's gone, leave her if she won't come!" Stubbornly, Arya dragged all the harder, pulling the crying girl along. Hot Pie scuttled back inside, abandoning them . . . but Gendry came back, the fire shining so bright on his polished helm that the horns seemed to glow orange. He ran to them, and hoisted the crying girl up over his shoulder. “Run!” - Arya, ACoK

He comes out of the fire with the light shining his polished armor helm and helps Arya save Weasel.

It's also consistent with GRRM's theme of subverting Westerosi stories and songs about the brave and honorable, high born knights rescuing princesses from towers when in world it's actually women like Brienne and bastards like Gendry being the brave knight in shining armor.