#up until she received a letter ( the letter gendry's ''reading'') from storm end's court asking her to legitimise gendry

[forgaeven1]

his sudden legitimisation comes as a surprise — or, rather, the request o' it is a surprise. he didn't think ser davos was capable o' this. from what gendry had known o' him, he seemed more o' a soldier than a politician. then again, maybe such a line will blur when ye've been around people who were crowned kings left and right; stannis, first. jon snow, second. ser davos had tried t' explain t' gendry that it was a smart move. the people o' the stormlands are angry, wary, and suspicious o' this new queen some bastard king in the north had brought forward — and no kind words, he said some more, would appease the court at storm's end.

except t' have robert's son, baseborn or otherwise, as a lord.

a lord that, if his legitimisation is passed, is accepted, could be in the queen's council. they're scared, ser davos had tried to soften the blow, after the dragon queen had looked at gendry from top t' bottom, silent, and left the room; her steps furious against the creaky, hardened floor of these thick northern woods. gendry had spent the minutes in ser davos' company afterwards simply starin' at the letter — not that he could 'ven read them, the irony of it all. if he'd had any humour, maybe he would've guffawed; so exhausted he was by these games the highborns are set at playin', that it's circled into laughable. all this effort t' recognise an uneducated bastard and for what ? just so they could 'ave someone watchin' the dragon queen's move ?

gendry's not laughing now, of course. how could he, when he felt like the coldness o' the north is seepin' right into his bloodstream, his lungs and everythin' inside, s' like the white walkers 'ave gotten t' him somehow, despite the fact that they're all gone. like they've clawed their way inside; they've made a home. when gendry leaves the room, he hasn't been checking where he's gone. all he'd known s' that he needed someplace quiet. someplace where he could- where he could breathe. and where he could think. not the forge, no, 'cause he couldn't handle all the stares and questions from the smiths that he'd gotten t' know over the weeks he's been there. the stables, maybe. just anywhere. this corner, near the armoury—

— he throws up.

gendry heaves, mouth wet, and eyes tearful. it takes him a moment t' finally find his breathin' again, settin' that proper rhythm, before he blinks them open, and catches sight o' yellow hair. ❛ i — ❜ he shakes his head, watches the edge of her beautiful, expensive dress makes contact with the stray hays and snow all around. ❛ ye' shouldn't be here, princess. ❜

@fraegiles — starter call