eachdraidh | Forge One

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Forge One - (Audio)

[The forge had echoed loudly from the sound of hammer on steel. Such had been the case for a week now, ever since Gendry had discovered the forge and learned he had the freedom to use it and its materials. He had fallen in love immediately. At the Crossroads, he had suffered a shambling forge that he'd had to largely put back together himself. The forge in Harrenhal had been better, but he was one of many who worked it. Tohbo Mott's own forge came close, but it lacked the size of this one. It was expertly crafted and spoke of a skill he could only imagine. His old master had talked of the forgs in Qohor and Volantis and how great they were. He could only imagine them being like this one.

And so Gendry had set to work. His half finished sword was completed. The blade was made sharp and glimmering. He did not bother himself with anything but the most basic of hilt and crossguard. Why should he? The sword had been forged from the only steel he could acquire. Now he had superior metal to work with and he imagined how he might forge himself a sword of the finest steel as could be found. And then, armor. A new helmet. Greaves, gauntlets, breastplate, pauldrons, and gorget. And why not? They were generous in their provisions and Gendry though to himself that when he had finished, he would look more a knight than even Ser Loras Tyrell. And then he would be more than just King Robert's bastard son born in Fleabottom. He would be a self made knight, secure and confident in his own armor.

A week in the forge. Drenched in sweat and smoke, with nothing but a damning heat as company. It suited him fine. He was hard at work creating a new helmet, after all. Indeed, he was so utterly devoted to his craft that he had not even returned to his bedchambers. He found the hard ground of more comfort than the feather soft bed provided to him and the distant heat of a cooling forge like a friendly reminder of home. And though he could not claim to have friends among his fellow arrivals, there were at least people of note that concerned him. Even if some, like Arya Stark, thought him as little more than a stranger.

And so he tried the locket.]

[Audio]

I found a forge. A good one. Better than any I've ever seen, at least. These fairy folk might be a queer sort, but they make for fine things. So I've been doing the same.

[He paused and wondered at his own message. Did he want to offer to craft armor and swords for others? No. And certainly not for charity. He only wanted to arm himself and make himself a knight. Once he had, he'd only need the forge to maintain what he already had or replace what might be damaged. So he keeps himself from offering something foolish.]

If there's other smiths about, you might find the place of use. [And then he lingers after that, unsure if more should be said. And so stupidly he can be heard lingering. Breathing.

And then it cuts out.]

[Afterwards, Gendry resumes his work at the forge, where he has discarded his shirt and set himself to the first steps of his new helmet.]

(ooc: prose and brackets are both welcome.)

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[The bell was drowned out by the thunderous sound of a hammer colliding with steel. His back was to her as he pounded a sheet of metal into its desired shape. It would be a helmet, but for now, it looked nothing like what it would at the end. It was a miserable and battered looking thing. Only a smith would know it for what it would become.

Steel echoed in his ear in its constant pitched song. But at last, as he turned around for his next task, he spotted the queen. He paused as he looked around her, expecting dragons or a bold knight attending her. But she was alone and he wondered what madness compelled her come seek him alone. But he made no effort to appear threatening or friendly. He set the hammer aside.]

Your grace. I didn't think you'd make it so soon.

[ For her part, she doesn't appear wary (though she certainly isn't at ease, either), even when he wields the hammer. She has no experience with smiths, so when she looks upon his craft she shows no recognition or judgment, just curiosity. ]

I have no strict schedule to maintain here. [ a shake of her head. In the end, it's just her way. Part Targaryen, part Dothraki: she takes what she can when the opportunity arises. And, of course, Dany is by no definition a patient woman. She fixes her eyes upward on his face, as if she might gain a better understanding of him by doing so. ] I hope I haven't inconvenienced you with my quickness.

[He had looked a shabby figure at the feast when he was poorly dressed and dirty, with a shoddy sword at his side. He had been a knight, then. He attended a feast that he could not have ever imagined.

But now, Gendry was where he was born to be. He looked entirely in his element. Each and every tool, he knew its exact use. They all fit as comfortably in his hand as a goblet might fit in the hand of a lord. This was his kingdom and he held an absolute rule over it and the blazing furnace that burned within. Though he was soaked in sweat, he showed no discomfort.]

Neither do I. There's nothing I'm doing what can't be done later. [He crosses his arms as he looks down at her. He is considering where he really stands with her and what he intends to say.] I had the wrong idea about you, your grace. I'm sorry for that.

[ Again, she finds herself taken aback and unable to hide it. He seems at home here in the forge, but otherwise implacable. He was neither overly courtesy nor unkind at the feast, though some of his harsher words shook her. That fault is her own, she thinks, for she must learn to withstand words and lies and, sometimes worst of all, truths as much as anything else.

He did seem put out when she declared herself, titles and all, and unsupportive of all the so-called kings of his realm — so perhaps that's where this apology comes from. Should she be upset that he misjudged her? As of late, she has had to confront her own preconceived judgments of the Westerosi...

Regardless, after a brief confused flutter of lashes, she regains her composure and nods in acknowledge of his statement. ]

I see. [ She clasps her hands together. ] Thank you for acknowledging that.

[ awkward.pause.com ]

[She was gracious at least. Though he could tell she was bewildered. Perhaps it was because he was recklessly stupid. He'd often been called thick and stubborn and she was simply used to people with the good sense to bow their head and offer their courtesies. Ned Stark had seemed just as baffled when Gendry refused to sell his helmet. And now he refused to simply offer his service. Not yet, anyway.]

But there's something I wanted to know. If you don't mind my asking.

[ Now, she does eye him warily. ]

I'll hear it. [ but she promises no answer. Or, at least, no satisfactory answer. ]

Say you weren't here. Say you made it to Westeros, you took the Red Keep. You're on the Iron Throne and you have King Tommen at your mercy. His sister, too. And Lord Stannis and Lord Renly as well. What would you do with them? Kill them as the traitors they are? Spare them?

[Gendry knows Renly to be dead already. But it is not Gendry's concern what happens to any of them. But although Gendry is pressing her to find out what she'd do to him. But his tone does not betray that. Indeed, he makes it sound like the answer he wants is that she'd kill them all.]

[ immediately. ] I won't harm children.

[ She might take them as hostages, but she'd never have them executed. No child should suffer as she has -- fearing assassins in every shadow, poison in every cup, death behind each door. She wants people, children especially, to love her, not fear her. Stannis and Renly, on the other hand...she scrunches up her face and in a second it's obvious the answer does not come easy. It wasn't hard to say she would kill them before she encountered them herself. In thoughts, they were evil and she was good, righteous in her desires. To see her fury made flesh is an entirely different matter. Stannis was by no means a charming man (he was the opposite, really), but he seemed honest -- and it had been his brother. Renly's, too. But I struck my brother down when he became too dangerous. If a girl could do it, why couldn't a man?

She thinks him weak, undeniably culpable for his actions.

But is death at her hands his just punishment? ]

[ Dany raises her chin, expression resuming its former neutrality, and answers like a queen. ]

If I killed all who betrayed my family, I would preside over a kingdom of ashes.

[ a brief pause. Then, she lifts her eyebrows and cocks her head as if to challenge him in turn. Her next statement comes as certainly as the first. ] However, should Lord Stannis and Lord Renly choose to stand against the dragon again, they will die by fire.

Edited 2014-04-15 00:13 (UTC)

[It was an answer. But not one that helped him. She had answered diplomatically. And justly! But she did not solve the question of what she would do to Robert Baratheon's son, who had neither betrayed her family or was a child. Optimistically, they would be spared. And then what?

He wanted to know. Needed to know. Gendry felt as though she was someone worth serving. Not as worthy as Beric Dondarion, who was chosen by his own man, and fought for a cause far greater than the vanity of his own family pride. That had been a man who fought for greater ideals. He had been a just man. A true man. And he was not a child princess who seemed to struggle with the decision of mercy and vengeance.

But Dondarion was dead and Gendry was adrift, swearing loyalty now to a woman who had perverted justice into vengeance. Could he forsake his new found family and serve this woman? His expression twisted thoughtfully as he considered the difficulty in his own decision. In the end, maybe it didn't matter. One bastard boy made no difference no matter who he paid fealty to. Besides that, he served at a new court, to a fairy king and queen. Perhaps it was just as well that he owed no loyalty to anyone but himself.

Disappointment showed on him either way.]

You've met them?

[ Did her answer not satisfy? Again, she considers the conundrum of Gendry, one she might not solve, at this rate. What a strange boy. ]

Only Lord Stannis. [ though she knows Renly is here, too. Stannis stands out for reasons beyond her. His eyes are very blue, she thinks again and again. It might seem odd to comment on, but she can't quite dismiss the thought. She has seen those blues before. ]

[ simply. ] He isn't what I expected.

So have I. Once before, as well, in King's Landing. He didn't say nothing to me, then. Only glared at me like I was some sort of murderer.

[Now I know why. But that bitter thought stayed with him and he did not want to entertain ideas of why Stannis might have visited him.]

But he ain't a king here. Nor is Lord Renly. They were before, though. At least, that's how I remember it.

I suppose it was not called the War of Five Kings without cause. [ The war of five usurpers, more like, but she stays her tongue. Again, her brow furrows. Stannis’ default demeanor is hardly warm, but Gendry seems to suggest an exceptional distaste. ]

Why would he treat you as such?

On account of me being lowborn and a bastard besides. Born out of lust and lies. Our nature is wanton and treacherous.

[... or so he had heard. It was because he was Robert's bastard, but Stannis was so rigid a man, he supposed the man might regard any bastard like that.]

Edited 2014-04-17 14:58 (UTC)

[ So he is a bastard -- a bastard knight. ]

[ She scoffs, unable to remain completely cool. ] If that were true, then a traitorous Lord like Stannis ought to stay his judgments.

Lord Stannis is highborn.

[And probably rightful king, for as little as that matters to Gendry. He shrugs, though, as if to indicate it makes no matter what Stannis thinks of him.]

[ coolly. ]

They say House Baratheon was baseborn once. [ the stories, that is. ] Raised higher by Aegon the Conqueror himself.

[Baseborn... he'd heard of bastards being raised before. Noble bastards, though. Hadn't there been a war over a bastard king? Gendry didn't know much about it and he knew even less about this. But it mulled in his head. Gendry Waters, the baseborn Baratheon bastard. Ha.]

I'm sure Lord Stannis knows that as well. Only he's got three hundred years of better breeding than I have.

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Forge One - (Audio)

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