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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[ When motivated, she proves herself a quick study — as with these devices, said by some to be magic and others the work of man. Either explanation suits her well enough, for she has seen the wonders (dangers) of both magic and men. And with the help of others, she has become capable of uses the locket's basic functions.

Dany hums appreciatively. Gendry's broadcast contains useful information. ]

A smith and a knight. [ It's an interesting fact, at the very least. From her understanding of Westerosi culture, the two don't often overlap -- like girl and ruler. ]

Would you allow me to see some of your work, Ser Gendry?

[It takes him a moment to remember that voice. It's the queen. The damned dragon queen herself, wanting to come and see his work. It seemed like a folly to allow it. Certainly no queen would truly want to see his wares. But who was he to deny her? It was not his forge and even if he was, he could hardly forbid it. But if he did allow her, what would that mean?

He chose the safest course and left the choice to her.]

If it pleases, your grace. I've not much to show yet.

[A sword he intended to abandon for another and the start of a helmet. It did him little credit.]

[ She considers this. If nothing is finished, then she might wait. ]

Mayhaps I will send mine own knight in my stead. He knows more of such work than I.

[ and he might like to see what options he has available, having worn his armor for some time through grass, sand, and salt. It isn't as shiny as it once was, though she thinks it holds sentimental value, it might require repairs. ]

[... and so she has a knight now. He frowns, wondering if she might be seeking retribution for his earlier comments. If such is the case, it will be good that Lord Renly and Ser Loras also intend to be visiting the forge. Certainly they have ample cause to oppose the dragon queen's knight if Gendry himself is not equipped to the task.]

It's not my forge. Anyone is welcome to come to it. If you want to send your knight, he may look as long as he cares to.

[ His reaction puzzles her. She doesn't really understand any of the Westerosi, though she often presumes to, but Gendry, perhaps even more than the others, confuses her. A knight with no surname and a smith. He does not state who he serves for his own reasons, but comes from the Riverlands. He seems to tiptoe around her at times, like the other Westerosi do, but he did not hold back when she asked for truth.

And what would he gain from such words if they were not true? ]

[ Neutrality will do for now, she supposes. ] I will think on it, then.

Have you found all to your liking, Ser? I had thought the feast to be a singular event, but this place seems over-equipped in all regards.

[ In truth, she thinks it too much. It is like Quarth with its resources, particularly those they've shown her. She would rather be dirtied in the grass of the Dothraki Sea, dressed in the same coarse clothes as her khalasar, than sat in pretty silks in a room large enough to house far more than even a girl and three dragons. ]

A little too much to my liking, your grace. I could fit a half dozen families in the room they gave me. Seems a waste for the likes of me. [And everyone else, regardless of birth, but he doesn't say that.] And they've been feeding us too much. We'll be as fat as the old king if they keep it up.

[Disdain. His answer is full of it, because it was excessive and wasteful. He might enjoy the food, but the rest was too much.]

What of you? Does it suit you?

We're of the same mind in that regard. I can't help but think some must suffer for the sake of this affluence.

[ She thinks of Qarth. They nearly turned her khalasar away, almost allowing them to starve despite their plentiful resources. And when she left, Xaro refused to spare supplies, let alone ships for her cause. These are the products of greed and selfishness. Unlike Qarth, the fairies do not supply outsiders for their own amusement here. ]

They supply us so that we may be strong for their fight, but they're foolish. As you said, luxuries make us soft, not strong.

Might be why these Unseelie folk are enemies. Likely all they want is a bit more food of their own.

[Certainly such lavish accommodations reeked of the excess of the Red Keep, where people sat starving and desperate in its shadow. It was a fine way to make enemies. Certainly it had made one out of him.

But he was surprised to find them in agreement on that. He would not expect that from a highborn, much less a queen.]

I hadn't thought of that. [ but it's definitely worth considering as the Seelie have already committed other injustices, in her eyes. ] In any case, I intend to fully explore the grounds today and seek audience with the King and Queen as soon as possible. If there is injustice — and I suspect there is — I will find it and uproot it.

[Uproot it, she says. Skepticism reeks in his answer, for he cannot imagine how she might manage that with but a knight and three small dragons.]

How's it you intend to do that?

I have been alone before, Ser Gendry, with no allies, no dragons, no strength of my own. My brother sold me like a slave, leaving me with nothing, even my own rights — but I have since gained the respect and loyalty of a khalasar of the most fearsome warriors, the strength and affection of my children, the fealty of a knight and ten-thousand men.

Here, I may only have my dragons, my truest knight, and an excess of supplies, [ Horses, food, weapons, the locket, hell, there might even be ships, just waiting to be taken. ] but I have risen higher with far less.

[ But why? What makes her special? Circumstances have aided her in some respects. Her sun and stars helped her grow in many ways, but it was her own strength of self that brought her dragons into this world, earning her bloodriders of her own. She won Jorah to her cause with her actions. It was her choice to free the Unsullied, and their choice to follow her after they were free. It isn't because she's the blood of the dragon or trueborn heir or anything of the like.

I, too, am strong, and my aims are just. ]

If people see strength in a just cause, they support it. I have already spoken to some who would stand with me. [ if not behind. ] For though I am only a young girl and know little of the ways of war, I know enough of suffering. [ evenly, she repeats her previous words with a small addition. ] If there is injustice, I will find it and uproot it however need be.

[ which is to say she doesn't have a plan beyond investigate and interrogate as of yet. She'll consider her options once she has more information. ]

[Gendry is stunned into silence. He had thought her soft and weak, who had been spoiled by birth and title. he had known she was exiled, but she had a bearing that made her seem so utterly pampered that he had not seen any trace of hardship in her.

But now he saw her for what she was. She had not suffered the same way he had, certainly. Perhaps she had not grown up with bowls of brown or crossed rivers of shit. She might not have stood in a pen, watching as people were lined up for an interrogation that always ended in death. Perhaps she had never known the Lady.

Still, he understood. And he closed the locket. It seemed as though he intended to be done with her. But it was only so he had time to consider what he ought to say. She still seemed a fool to claim so much and he recalled that long list of titles she gave him, each one more absurd than the last.

He opened the locket again.]

You're welcome to see the forge, your grace. I'd be glad to show you about.

[There. He had little else to say. What could he say? That he would offer his sword? It wasn't his to give. Not yet. But he could honor her original request in a far kinder, more generous way. And perhaps, in person, he might speak more plainly than what could be done on this strange little locket.]

[ Something doesn't quite make sense to Dany. The silence is unsurprising -- in fact, it's often how Jorah and Arstan react to her declarations. Words don't win wars for good reason.

But Gendry speaks again and returns to their first topic, the forge. It's, perhaps, a nicer response than before, but it's a derailment nonetheless. She sounds surprised, almost uncertain. Gendry's pause and response have allowed her indignation to dim. ]

I would like that, Ser Gendry. Thank you.

Aye, of course. Your grace.

[It is an awkward note to end on. But he does. And he closes the locket and wonders if she will show up. And because he finds that he'd like just that, he decides to stay at the smithy for even longer than usual. He would wait for the company. And he would work.]

[ She doesn't come immediately. First, she sees to her dragons, securing them safely in her rooms with Ser Jorah, though she thinks they may like the forge for its heat. The excess space is useful in times like this, at least. Indeed, she would travel with them by her side, if the labyrinthine castle and its grounds weren't so unsuited to them. Losing sight of them scared her, particularly in so crowded an area. They were already out in the Vales for much of the morning, anyway. They could suffer some time indoors.

She has a little fairy guide her to the forge, but she dismisses it upon reaching the entrance. She appears dressed as she was before, bell tinkling with each step as she looks for Gendry. ]

[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.

Forge One - (Audio)

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