"Return to King's Landing and release Cleos Frey. I will do everything I can for Lord Eddard's daughters."
Gendry spoke calmly, but his words carried authority.
The envoy in question, Cleos Frey, was the eldest son of Ser Emmon Frey and Genna Lannister. He had been captured during the Battle of the Whispering Wood and had remained a prisoner ever since.
At the mention of Cleos's name, Lord Jason Mallister of Seagard snorted softly.
"That little weasel?" he said with clear disdain. "Well, the boy is acceptable enough. Send the message anyway, even if those cousins aren't worth much."
Cleos Frey was hardly an impressive figure.
He had inherited none of the striking features of House Lannister—no golden hair, no handsome face, no commanding height. Instead, he resembled what many called a little weasel: thin and narrow-faced, with brown hair, pale watery eyes, and a weak chin that gave him a perpetually nervous appearance.
Despite this, the exchange proposal still held political value.
Robb Stark rose from his seat and bowed his head slightly toward Gendry.
"On behalf of Sansa and Arya, I thank you for your generosity."
His voice was sincere, but many of the gathered lords exchanged knowing glances.
Everyone understood the truth.
The proposed exchange would almost certainly fail.
Queen Cersei Lannister might be cruel and unstable, but she was not foolish enough to trade the true heirs of House Stark for a few distant cousins.
Still, the exchange had another purpose.
It was a smokescreen.
Behind this diplomatic gesture, they were preparing a larger strategy—one that involved the Vale of Arryn.
Gendry turned his attention to Lady Catelyn Stark.
"Lady Catelyn," he said respectfully, "you are someone I deeply respect. I appreciate your willingness to travel to the Stormlands."
His expression grew serious.
"But you must choose your guards carefully. Your safety is extremely important."
In truth, Gendry had little faith that either diplomatic mission would succeed.
Both envoys were simply going through the necessary motions of diplomacy.
Catelyn stepped forward.
Though her heart was heavy, she forced herself to maintain the composure expected of a noble lady.
"This… this is my honor," she said with a strained smile.
Inside, however, her heart was breaking.
Her husband was likely already dead.
If she lost her daughters as well, it would feel as though the foundation of her entire life had collapsed.
Yet she could not allow her grief to show.
Robert's son—the young king—needed to be strong. He could not afford to indulge in what some would call a woman's compassion.
And Robb…
Her son was changing.
He was no longer merely a boy.
He was becoming a lord.
And a lord could not reveal weakness.
Suddenly, Robb spoke again.
"Your Highness," he said, "I have a suggestion."
The room grew quiet.
"We have already sent two envoys," Robb continued. "One to King's Landing and another to the Stormlands."
He paused before continuing.
"But if we want to harass Casterly Rock, perhaps we should contact Lord Balon Greyjoy."
Several lords shifted in their seats.
Robb continued confidently.
"If the Ironborn launch their longships, they could strike the western coast of the Westerlands."
He gestured toward the map on the table.
"Seagard has ships. From there we could send an envoy to the Iron Islands."
At those words, Gendry glanced toward Theon Greyjoy.
Theon's eyes lit with anticipation.
The young Ironborn stood tall, dressed like a noble lord for the evening's gathering.
His appearance was striking.
Black silk gloves embroidered with golden swirls, soft leather boots, silver-gray wool breeches, and a golden necklace resting against his chest.
At his waist hung both a dagger and a longsword in an ornate black-and-gold scabbard.
He looked every bit the confident young lord.
But Gendry merely shook his head.
"Your suggestion is reasonable, Robb," he said calmly.
"However, this is precisely the moment when you need loyal people by your side."
He glanced again at Theon.
"You say Theon is like your brother."
"Then he should remain beside you."
Robb opened his mouth to respond, but Gendry continued speaking.
"As for contacting King Balon… I will personally write to him."
The room fell silent.
Gendry had immediately rejected Robb's proposal.
Robb was still young.
Trusting Balon Greyjoy and sending Theon to Pyke revealed that he did not fully understand either man.
Balon Greyjoy was reckless.
Obsessed with the ancient Old Way.
His first rebellion had led to the death of his own father.
His second rebellion had cost him two sons.
Even his wife had descended into madness afterward.
Catelyn quietly sighed.
She would never support Robb's idea.
Balon Greyjoy was dangerous.
Unpredictable.
And absolutely untrustworthy.
If trouble came from the Iron Islands again, it would be disastrous.
As long as her own family remained safe, she preferred to avoid involving them with the Greyjoys entirely.
Robb eventually nodded.
"If you already have a plan, then I accept it."
In truth, Robb had believed sending Theon would be the easiest way to negotiate with Balon.
After all, they had grown up together.
Theon had even once saved Bran from wildlings.
Their friendship ran deep.
But Gendry saw the disappointment flicker across Theon's face.
Still, there was one thing that pleased him.
Theon had been called Robb's brother.
That meant something.
"I would prefer to stay beside the Direwolf as well," Theon said lightly.
His smile appeared casual.
But deep down, he understood the truth.
He was not a Stark.
He had never truly been one of them.
Even though Lord Eddard had allowed him to grow up alongside the Stark children, everyone in Winterfell knew what he truly was.
A hostage.
A living guarantee of his father's obedience.
From Lady Catelyn to the lowest servant in the kitchen, everyone treated him accordingly.
Even the bastard Jon Snow often received warmer treatment than he did.
Theon glanced toward Gendry thoughtfully.
There was history between the Ironborn and the Stormlands.
Long ago, House Durrandon had ruled the Riverlands.
But later, House Hoare of the Iron Islands had overthrown them.
For more than three centuries, the Riverlands had belonged to the Stormlands.
Yet rebellion never ceased.
In nearly every generation, some ambitious lord proclaimed himself the King of the Trident.
Some even succeeded—for a few weeks, a month, sometimes even a year.
But every rebellion was eventually crushed.
Storm's End would send its armies.
The rebel king would be hanged.
Until one day Harwyn "Hardhand" Hoare changed everything.
He led the Ironborn south.
Landing near Seagard, his warriors dragged their longships across land to the Blue Fork River.
From there, they sailed deep into the Riverlands, raiding and conquering.
It had been a turning point in history.
At that moment, Lady Maege Mormont rose to her feet.
The Lady of Bear Island was short, grey-haired, and powerfully built.
She wore armor even during councils, and her favored weapon was a spiked mace.
"Prince Gendry," she said awkwardly, "I have a request."
"Please speak," Gendry replied.
Maege nodded.
"I believe the coming battle with Tywin Lannister may be the last battle of my life."
The room grew quiet.
"My brother joined the Night's Watch because of his son, Jorah," she continued.
"He once told me that he wished Jorah would also take the black."
She sighed heavily.
"As Jorah's aunt, I would like to see him one last time… but that is likely impossible."
She gestured toward her daughter.
"So I ask that my daughter Dacey Mormont accompany Prince Gendry for a time."
"If she meets Jorah, she can convey my brother's wishes."
"That alone would satisfy my heart."
Robb immediately spoke.
"I consider Gendry my brother and king."
"Lady Maege's request is perfectly reasonable."
He smiled.
"From now on, Dacey Mormont will serve as one of the king's guards."
Maege bowed deeply.
"You have my eternal gratitude."
Dacey rose proudly.
"It will be an honor."
Gendry helped the young woman to her feet and thanked Robb.
Both Jon and Dacey, whom he had received from Robb's side, were brave and capable warriors.
And Robb himself…
Still had much to learn.
Eventually, the council ended.
Most of the lords departed.
Only a handful remained for a smaller gathering around wine and the hearth.
Present were:
Gendry
Ser Barristan Selmy
Anguy the Archer
Robb Stark
Bronze Yohn Royce
Brynden "Blackfish" Tully
Lord Jason Mallister
Ser Boros of the Claw Peninsula
The large tent suddenly felt quiet.
Only the crackling fire filled the silence.
Finally, Gendry spoke.
"Theon is a son of Pyke."
He looked directly at Robb.
"I hope you remember that."
Robb flushed.
"But we grew up together. We're friends."
Blackfish leaned forward.
"But he is not a Stark."
"Jon is."
"Bran is."
"Living in Winterfell for ten years does not change a man's nature."
Ser Barristan added quietly:
"The Ironborn are not like other people."
"Balon Greyjoy once convinced his own father to rebel. That rebellion caused his father's death."
"Later, Balon's own rebellion cost him two sons."
The old knight sighed.
"Even I can see that young Theon knows he does not belong."
Gendry placed a hand on Robb's shoulder.
"Robb… I speak as your brother."
"If a warrior does not use his mind, he will remain only a warrior."
"Never a true lord."
He paused.
"Think of the great Starks—Cregan Stark… Torrhen Stark."
Robb lowered his head.
"I understand."
For the first time, he truly realized how dangerous the politics of the south were.
Perhaps that was why his father had always preferred the North.
The south was full of hidden currents.
Only the strongest—and most cunning—could survive.
Finally, Gendry added one more warning.
"Strengthen the defenses of the western coastline."
Robb frowned.
"You think Balon might attack?"
Lord Jason nodded.
"Indeed."
"The Ironborn raid anyone they can."
"They don't care which kingdom it is."
Robb slowly nodded.
"I understand."
After accepting their advice, he left the tent.
The others remained.
Their army would soon march along the Kingsroad.
And in a new age…
They would move forward.
Together.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)