"I never imagined I still had a father, or brothers and sisters. I used to think that if I could see them again, it would be the sweetest thing in the world. Today, my dream came true, and yet I cried," Mya said, choking on her tears.
Gendry looked very tall, though in rare moments there was still a trace of boyishness about him, a softness beneath the toughness. Only before family could he truly let his guard down.
The bloodline of the Stag might be separated by a thousand miles, but the same blood still flowed through them. Before winter and night fell, they needed to care for their family and give one another warmth.
"You have found a home, sister." Gendry wiped the tears from Mya's face. Their faces had the same firm lines, marked only by a little hardship and weathering. Two bastards with dangerous identities, one in King's Landing and one in the Vale. To have survived until now was already their greatest fortune.
"You are very strong, Mya." Judging by body and spirit alone, Gendry thought Mya was practically a special soldier of The Eyrie, carrying supplies and guiding guests up and down those mountain roads. If she had been born a boy, she would have become a fierce warrior.
"You are strong too, Gendry."
"I only remember him vaguely. I cannot see his face clearly," Mya said, thinking back. "When I was still a little baby, he liked to toss me into the air. He was built like a giant, with hands so strong that I felt as if I were flying. We laughed and laughed until I could not breathe, until I laughed tears from my eyes, and that only made him happier. I was not afraid at all. I knew he would always catch me." Mya thought for a moment. "But then one day, he missed. After that, he left. Men are like that. They either lie, or die, or leave."
Gendry looked at Mya. "Before he died, the late King Robert left us a gift: a will legitimizing his bastards. From now on, you are a lawful Baratheon."
"More than that gift, I would rather see him one more time and ask him why he left," Mya said. Dressed in a noblewoman's gown, she looked rather awkward. No girl disliked dresses unless life had forced her to. In the past, Mya had always worn leather, and sometimes copied men by putting on light armor.
"He will not come back. Lord Eddard once said he could swear eternal love, then forget it completely before nightfall," Gendry said. A wild, unrestrained father who had rarely cared about his children's lives. In a way, the king had only ever been a selfish child chasing pleasure.
"You fought your way here. It must have been hard," Mya said to Gendry. "They all say the Storm is invincible in war, and they sing songs about you in the Vale, but you are still young."
"A warrior's work is like a smith's. It all depends on strength." Gendry looked at Mya. Though he said it as a joke, the principle was the same. Both of them were healthy and robust, with the look of people born strong.
"Tell me your story, then. The story of the smith and the warrior. As for me, I have always been a guide for The Eyrie, and I carried supplies. Later, I met Ser Mychel. It is all ordinary enough, the same thing day after day." As a guide, Mya led visiting nobles and knights through the dangerous mountain paths into the Vale of Arryn. All the fresh food in The Eyrie, eggs, bacon, butter, melons, and fruit, was brought up from the Vale by Mya.
"I have no memory of him. As for my mother, the only thing I remember is that she had golden hair. After that, I was sent to the smithy..." Gendry told Mya his story, from the small tavern to the smithy, from King's Landing across the Narrow Sea, from a Sellsword apprentice in the Wolf Pack to a king of blood and fire, from the Disputed Lands to Myr and Tyrosh, and from Myr back to Westeros.
All along the way, he had relied on his strength, his bloodline, his wits, his luck, and that little cheat of his. Perhaps this was destiny. The hero of any age would praise himself that way. But it had also taken the support, trust, and sacrifices of many others for Gendry to reach this point. Only after surviving hardship and finding success could he speak openly of suffering.
"When there is a chance, I will take you to meet Daenerys," Gendry promised Mya.
"The silver-haired Dragon Princess? Princess Daenerys. They say she is the most beautiful woman in the known world." Mya laughed. "The two of you had better have a child quickly, so the succession will be secure."
"We will as soon as we can, but Dany is still too young. When Ser Mychel returns to the Vale, I will attend your wedding."
"You must come."
The old knight Ser Barristan watched the reunited siblings with a deep sigh in his heart. To him, honor was his life, and also his lover. The desires of the mortal world could not be allowed to stain the white cloak, which was why the old knight despised Jaime. He had put on the white cloak, but in a twisted way.
He had seen enough of the world: family, love, ruin. Yet he could still be moved by sincere feeling such as this. In those days, he had given up his right to inherit his house and put on the white cloak. The girl who should have married him had married his cousin instead, and from then on he had rarely returned to Harvest Hall.
The two of them spoke for a very long time. When he found the right moment, Lord Nestor slowly walked onto the balcony.
"Prince Gendry, Lady Mya, your reunion as brother and sister is deeply moving. But I think I must also formally introduce Lady Mya's identity to the lords of the Vale. This was something Lord Jon once entrusted to me as well, to look after Lady Mya," Lord Nestor said respectfully. His attitude made Mya rather uncomfortable. After all, for a long time before this, Nestor had been her supervisor, though he had treated her decently enough, partly because Lord Arryn had given him specific instructions.
Gendry nodded. After saying goodbye to him, Mya followed Lord Nestor to the hall of The Eyrie. From that day on, she was no longer the young guide of The Eyrie, but a princess of House Baratheon.
On the now-empty balcony, only Gendry and the old knight Ser Barristan remained. The other knights and servants who had been watching the excitement went back to their bouts.
"Prince, can that child truly live to sixteen?" Ser Barristan asked softly, worry in his voice. The old knight had seen the Young Great Lord's appearance: pale skin, limbs pitifully thin, a soft and sunken chest, eyes always red and hollow, and a small, flat belly. It was not the boy's fault. He had been born small and frail.
"We can only do our best," Gendry sighed.
"If something happens to the Vale's heir again, I fear the Iron Throne will have to intervene. The main line of House Arryn has already died out twice, and each time the Iron Throne stepped in. I hope this time, things can pass peacefully." Ser Barristan's expression was bitter.
That was House Arryn, perhaps the unluckiest among all the great houses. Its main line had already died out twice since Aegon's Conquest. If little Robert was counted as well, this would be the third time. Every such change had almost always been soaked in blood and storm, and was very difficult to settle peacefully.
"That is precisely why having the princess remain in The Eyrie will help us greatly," the old knight said. "She is our most capable helper. She is strong, with the resolve of a warrior."
"With her here, perhaps she can also help us look after Sweetrobin," the old knight added. Though Ser Barristan disdained schemes and plots, he had many years of experience in high politics. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was himself a member of the Small Council, and he had seen and heard enough. In wartime, the Lord Commander of the white knights could also serve directly as a military commander.
"I do not think that will work. Mya does not have the temperament for raising children either," Gendry said with a laugh. Sweetrobin needed a woman with a strong maternal nature to look after him. As for Mya, that was far too risky.
"Prince, Princess Mya was right to raise one concern. An heir. You must also consider your own heir," Ser Barristan advised. "A great kingdom cannot rest on the shoulders of two young people. That is far too dangerous. If you and Daenerys had a child..."
"I have considered it. The Handsome Man, Longspear, Master Qyburn, and even Fletcher have spoken to me about it many times. But I must consider Daenerys's health," Gendry replied.
Daenerys was only a fourteen-year-old girl, still growing. Long years of wandering had left her small and delicate. For a young girl like Dany, giving birth too early would be extremely dangerous. Only a good mood and abundant nourishment could help a person develop properly.
"Do not forget the dragons," Gendry reminded him. The dragon bloodline, the Targaryen bloodline. If he wanted more children, he could not rush things now. Besides, even if they did have children, the greatest danger would still fall on the two of them. So long as they lived, the empire would endure.
"You are right. The birthing bed is a woman's battlefield. Perhaps it would be better to wait until she is a little older. Because of the dragons, we must protect both her and you all the more." Ser Barristan nodded. Gendry was thinking long-term, not merely of the present. In this, he was different from King Robert, another difference born from the paths father and son had taken as they grew.
"I hope Dany will give me many children, but what she needs most right now is growth and health." For the sake of having more dragonriders, the mother of those dragonriders could not be pushed too hard.
"The Kindly Queen and Queen Rhaenyra of the Black Party both bore many children in their time. If Princess Dany can one day give you many healthy heirs, that will be a blessing for the realm," Ser Barristan said. Setting aside his skill in his own duties, Barristan was practically a relic of the old days and had witnessed much of the kingdom's history. A large part of the Mad King's madness had also come from the dwindling numbers of the main Targaryen line, and from his wife's repeated miscarriages and stillbirths.
"There should still be quite a few people with the Dragonlord's bloodline, shouldn't there?" Gendry asked Ser Barristan.
Aside from "Brown Ben Plumm," Dany was now the last true dragon, but Gendry knew that House Targaryen had still married princesses into other houses. Besides, the Unworthy King had sired many children, and even the exiled "Brightflame" might have left descendants across the Narrow Sea.
He only knew the broad outline. Ser Barristan, being both careful and fond of old gossip, knew a great many of these secrets.
"Yes. Many houses have dragon blood, though it is very thin by now," Ser Barristan thought for a moment. "Among the princesses who married out, the closest blood ties are still with the Stags. King Robert's claim to the Iron Throne also took this into account, because of the broken friendship between the Laughing Storm and the king. Speaking only of the years after The Dance of the Dragons, Princess Rhaena, twin sister of the Dragonbane, first married Corwyn Corbray, but House Corbray was unlucky. The princess miscarried. Later, she married Garmund Hightower, the younger brother of Lord Hightower, and bore six daughters. Princess Baela married Oakfist and also had descendants. During the age of King Viserys the Mediocre, the king had quite a few descendants, and the Three Maidens of the Tower also bore many children. Later, King Daeron the Wise married a Dornish princess, while his sister, Princess Daenerys, married into Dorne and bore several children for Prince Maron. After that came King Daeron's grandson, King Aegon the Unlikely, who married his daughter to Ormund of House Baratheon. She was the grandmother of King Robert, Stannis, and Lord Renly."
"So when Ser Lyn first supported the royalists during the late King's rebellion, it seems there was a bit of kinship involved after all, though not much."
"But that is not all. There should be some dragon blood across the Narrow Sea as well. For instance, the Conciliator once had a daughter who became a courtesan across the Narrow Sea. And did the Unworthy King's descendants not include courtesans in Braavos as well? Not to mention the far more famous Blackfyre descendants. I personally killed the last Blackfyre back then, but with so many Blackfyres at the start, even I cannot be entirely certain. After all, there were female descendants too." Ser Barristan spoke of one of his glorious moments, the slaying of Maelys the Monstrous. But the bloodline had spread for so long that no one could say clearly anymore.
"Hightower, Velaryon, House Martell, House Blackfyre, House Black Swan, House Baratheon, and others," Gendry counted them off.
Judging by the years, the most recent were still House Blackfyre, House Martell, and House Baratheon. The others could almost be ignored. His own bloodline had gradually risen, just in time to encounter the birth of dragons. But if the news of dragons being born truly spread through the world, it would inevitably attract adventurers with a trace of dragon blood.
"House Hightower..." Gendry remembered that house very well. That mysterious, ancient, and wealthy house seemed to have some connection to the destruction of the dragons, and the Old Man of Oldtown studied magic day and night without rest. In the future, they would most likely be enemies rather than friends.
If dragons appeared in the world, perhaps some restless people with "Dragonlord's blood" would come to join the excitement. If things followed the original course, a prince of House Martell would be unable to resist trying to tame a dragon. The dragon seemed masterless, and in the end, he was burned to death.
"Are you worried about them?" Ser Barristan asked. Dragons were far too tempting. They represented the strongest power in the world. In the age of dragons, even the eagle and the Kraken had bowed beneath them, rather than each going its own way as they did now.
"Worrying is natural. My throne and my dragons come from my sword and my blood. If others want to play thief, I will not spare them." Gendry said. The weight of the world was too great. Even if Aegon the Conqueror were alive, the two of them would still end up crossing swords, let alone unrelated thieves of the present day.
"Ser, with my strength, how do you think I would fare against assassins from across the world?"
"For you, there are almost no warriors who can match you, given your strength, speed, and endurance. But every man has moments when his guard drops. If you were ambushed by many people at once, or faced with cowardly methods like poison and crossbows, such things are impossible to guard against completely. That is why guardian knights are needed. The Kingsguard was born for this very purpose. We may need to stand guard for ten thousand hours just for a single chance to act. That is the difference between us and ordinary warriors. We exist to protect the king's safety." Ser Barristan looked at Gendry. "As for the Princess and the young dragons, their protection must be even tighter. They are too vulnerable."
Gendry nodded. Trusting the white knights was the right choice, but he wanted even more to unlock the mysteries of bloodline. Magic and power were hidden within blood as well. Beyond faith, magic came from bloodline: the Blood of the Storm, the Blood of the Dragonlord, the Blood of the Old Gods, and the blood of the Rhoyne of old.
The blood of House Durrandon represented the power of the "Storm," while the blood of the Dragonlord represented "Fire and Blood." If Gendry also possessed the power of Fire and Blood, then he would truly be fearless.
The night was long, the Long Winter was descending, and magic was reviving. This was the pulse of the age, the surge of the magical tide. It was like House Stark. Before this generation, very few had shown the gifts of "Wolf dreams" or Skinchangers, yet in Robb's generation, several Skinchangers had appeared at once.
"Besides assassins, there is also magic, Ser Barristan. The Red Comet is the sign of the magical tide. Those strange and uncanny arts will flourish once more. So when I spoke before of Winter is coming and the Long Night, it was not a lie. Our cause carries a heavy responsibility," Gendry said to Ser Barristan. "Those are our true enemies."
As for the Faceless Men's poisons and disguises, Gendry felt that with his sharp five senses and superhuman constitution, he should be able to deal with them. But the red priestesses' unpredictable shadow magic was what truly frightened him. He needed to judge the situation carefully and become stronger before the Long Night arrived.
"Your words sound a little like Lord Eddard's," Ser Barristan said. "After all, the Stark warning is Winter is coming."
"It is not a warning, ser. It is a terrible reality."
"Even if there are assassins and sorcerers, I will always guard the king. That is my duty. The duty of a white knight, until death," Ser Barristan said solemnly.
"You are a true knight," Gendry praised. But as the Long Night slowly approached, even Ser Barristan would probably be at a loss when he saw supernatural powers like shadow magic, Others, and Skinchangers. After all, one world had been low in martial power, while the other had leapt straight into high magic. Westeros had entered an age of high magic.