Chapter Text
Daenerys Targaryen was in need of a husband, that was the rumor spreading around the Seven Kingdoms in the fourth year of her reign. When she took the throne she had married Jon Stark, uniting the realm, and bringing about three good years of peace. In the second year of her reign, she gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Rhaella after her mother. In the third year, she became a widow, an assassin had attacked her and her husband in the streets of King’s Landing, and he died defending his wife and queen. The question on the lips of all the people of Westeros then became, who would win the prize of being the Queen’s consort? Many lords were eager for the opportunity to try for her hand, and her Hand knew this, announcing a tourney to celebrate Princess Rhaella’s second nameday. This would bring all the eligible lords to the Capital and allow a competition to be held, even if the Hand already had a perfect candidate in mind.
“Arya, I want you to attend this tourney for our niece.” Sansa said, watching her sister for her reaction as they sat in Sansa’s solar.
“Why? Daenerys has barely acknowledged our presence since Jon died protecting her.”
Sansa sighed, “You’ve heard the rumors as much as I have. We need to be involved in this, we can’t be left in the dark.”
“Why does Daenerys need another husband anyway? She has an heir.” Arya asked, picking at the edge of her tunic.
“She has one heir, and a girl at that. While Daenerys has changed the law of the land to follow the succession rules of Dorne, the realm would feel less concerned with more heirs.” Sansa explained, even though she knew Arya knew this and was just being difficult.
“What exactly do you want me to do while I’m down there? Chances are Daenerys won’t take my opinion and you already have a husband, so I won’t be picking up the leftovers for you.” Arya pointed out, she even liked her sister’s husband, Rodrick Cerwyn.
“Could always pick out one for yourself.” Sansa countered.
Arya sighed, “We’ve had this discussion.”
“We have, and he still hasn't married either. He instead found another of Robert’s bastards and named him his heir instead.” Sansa sighed, resting her hand on her slightly swollen stomach, “You know he would be the best option for Daenerys right?”
Arya’s eyes widened, “Why would you say that?”
“Because it is the truth. He is the right age, handsome, and has the perfect name. What better way to prove that the new Targaryen dynasty is moving on from the past than marrying the son of the man that overthrew the last one?” Sansa told her, “With Edric in place as the Lord of Storm’s End, Gendry can locate to King’s Landing for his role as Prince Consort.”
Arya narrowed her eyes at her sister, “Have you been talking to Lannister again?”
Sansa smiled, “Having friends in the capital is important. He asked my personal opinion of Lord Baratheon, claiming they were thinking of giving him a spot on the council, but I could see the truth behind the words.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth about Gendry’s character. Why should I lie? You have turned down his offer of marriage, he is a free man.”
Arya had to hold back on releasing her anger on her sister, “You know why I turned him down. It had nothing to do with the content of his character.”
“No, it has everything to do with yours.” Sansa got to her feet, “Stop hiding behind your claim of not being a lady. What it means to be a lady is changing all the time.”
“I can’t have children Sansa, what good would I be for the lord of a house?” She said, sinking further into her chair.
Sansa gave her sister a sad smile, “You assume you can’t have children, but have you ever actually tried?”
“I told you about that night.”
Sansa rolled her eyes, “Yes, the night that you gave a blacksmith your maidenhead, and then you were chased and beaten all over this castle for hours while fighting a dead army. I’d say the trauma more than anything would have stopped a child from taking root.”
“It’s been four years Sansa, he probably doesn’t even want me anymore.”
“If that was true, why is he still unmarried? Tyrion told me that it was once one of his greatest frustrations that every woman he attempted to set up with Lord Gendry he’d turn away.” Sansa shrugged, “Mayhaps he was just waiting for Jon to die so he could have a chance at the Queen.”
Arya scoffed, “He didn’t even want to be a lord, he’d never want to be King.”
“He might not have much choice. Can you really refuse an offer of marriage from the Queen when you have no good reason?”
“He has refused all the others.”
“The others didn’t have two full grown dragons and an army behind them. No, unless Gendry is betrothed before Daenerys makes a formal offer, he won’t have an option to say no, and no one would advise him to refuse anyway.” Sansa watched her sister closely, “This is your last chance Arya. You still love him, from what you’ve told me, I think you’ve always loved him. You will never be able to forgive yourself if you allow him to marry Daenerys.”
Arya was silent for a long time, the silence stretching that Sansa was almost starting to wonder if she had fallen asleep in the chair. Then Arya’s eyes snapped open, and the look on her face reminded her of that moment when she had confronted her about the scroll Cersei had made her write. Her sister’s grey eyes landed on her, “I need to go to King’s Landing.”
Sansa smiled, “Yes you do.”
Arya got to her feet, a more relaxed expression on her face, “I’ll try to be back in time to see the babe be born.”
“Don’t rush on my account.” Sansa assured her, “You have a stag to hunt.”
“I don’t want to go to some stupid tourney. You know I hate going back to King’s Landing, I only did it for the funeral because Jon was a good friend.” Gendry said, sitting behind the large desk that was filed with way too many papers.
“House Baratheon needs to be represented, we have to show that we are still keeping faith with House Targaryen.”
“Edric can go. He is better at all that lord talk than me anyhow.” Gendry said, looking at another scroll from some lord that wanted something. That was all he felt his life was now, deciding which lords were deserving and which were just being greedy. He hated it, he was miserable, he wished he could just run away.
“The Queen requested that YOU come specifically. Things are rocky right now, we can’t afford to make new enemies, especially not the royal family.” Davos told him.
Gendry threw down the paper, “I don’t give one shit about the royal family.”
Davos sighed, “You have heard the rumors as well as I, the Queen is looking for a new husband.”
“I don’t even want to lord, why would I want to be King or Prince or whatever the title would be?”
“You have been able to get away without marrying so far. If the Queen requests you marry her, it isn’t really a request. Unless you have a very good reason not to, which you do not. You do not have a betrothal. You and the Queen share some distant blood, but not near enough to ever be considered an issue, actually, it would be a benefit. With the Martells gone, besides a few of Oberyn’s daughters, you have the most Targaryen blood outside of the main line.”
“Edric has the same blood, he can marry the Queen.”
“You are the elder brother, Edric is almost 10 years the Queen’s junior.”
“Lords marry women with that kind of age spread, or greater, all the time.” Gendry rebutted. He had promised himself a long time ago that he would not be used for the games of the highlords, he might be a highlord now himself, but he wouldn’t be a pawn. If he ever married, it would only be for love, not for political manipulations. He had only ever loved one woman, and she didn’t want to marry him.
Davos sighed once again, “You are being stubborn. You might be the Lord Storm’s End, but she is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You swore her an oath of loyalty, when she summons you, you must go.”
Gendry deflated in the chair, “I do not want to marry Daenerys.”
“She is beautiful.”
“Daenerys is a great many things but she isn’t the woman I love.”
“The woman you love turned down your proposal. She has had four years to change her mind, if she hasn’t by now, I doubt she ever will.”
Gendry chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, “I will go to King’s Landing for this tourney. I will mingle with the highlords and ladies but I will not marry the Queen.”
“I hope you are given that choice, lad.”