Chapter Text
He looked at him over and over. He feels rather drunk but he could still see just how much the boy looked like a Baratheon. Like him. Almost like the little princeling that he had mourned. At times, he had imagined what the boy would look like. How he would grow. How he could teach him everything he knew about fighting and hunting. Just how much he could show him how to be a man.
Joff may be little more than a child but he had felt frightened by him. The way he had smiled as he held up that dead cat had still haunted him. Joff barely seemed interested in hunting or fighting. Spent more time playing a knight and hiding under Cersei's skirts. He knew that she was heavy with two children from what the grey sunken cunt had mentioned the last time he had talked to him. Hopefully, they wouldn't be a pathetic little princelings that Joff was turning out to be. He wasn't sure how it would be if he was suddenly "blessed" with two little princesses. Joff was practically a little princess already.
This boy however, he didn't look like a proper little princeling. For one thing, he was a dirty little thing with worn-out and torn clothes. A small bit of mud that was on his cheek. But he had a strong look to him. Like a true warrior. He wondered just what, who or where was his mother. But would that matter? He seemed to be almost lost in Flea Bottom. Seven Hells, he barely knew just how he got in Flea Bottom in the first place. He didn't even know what he went there for.
Had the Seven guided him there? The boy kept staring back right at him; in a manner that was respectful and somehow defiant as well. It almost reminded him of Stannis. Almost reminded him of Father. Mayhaps the Seven wanted him to find the boy. Mayhaps, they brought back his first boy in this boy? Right some wrong? He hadn't a clue.
But what he did know was that this boy needed something more than Flea Bottom. And mayhaps, Joff could use a brother and friend. Bugger what Cersei thinks. Ser Barristan seemed to be fond of him as he began to tell tales of his days in the Kingsguard to him. The way that the boy smiled reminded him of Renly's bright smile the first time he saw it.
"Would you mind telling me your name, little one?"
"I-I's Gendry, Y-Your Grace!"
It tugged as his heart the way he said it; nervous yet as strong as a child his age could muster.
"Would you care to come to the Red Keep with me? I'm certain that Ser Barristan is in need of a squire?"
His eyes and his smile grew brighter.