A War of Fate and Prophecy

Chapter Thirty*

"Sam is on his way back to Winterfell." Alyssays announces to Jon as he is pulling on his cloak to leave their cabin.

"There is no way he has finished his training yet." He finally replies after a long moment.

"No, he's tired of following the Maesters stupid rules when there is a war against the dead to be fought." Jon watches her face for a moment mulling something over in his mind. Then he turns and leaves as Aly contemplates throwing something heavy at his stubborn beautiful head.

Three days they had been sailing, they were about halfway to East Watch by the sea. Every day they went about their tasks without speaking to each other.  It wasn't that he was ignoring her, if anything he seemed hyper aware of her every movement and need. He made sure she was healing and not in pain and was warm enough despite the dropping temperatures. He helped her dress and undress each night since her shoulder was still stiff. He slept every night next to her with his arms curled tightly around her body and his hands wrapped possessively in her hair and around her waist.

The silence however was crushing her, it was almost as bad as the anger and pain she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her and knowing she had put it there. 

She makes her way up to the deck and watches the sailors work. Jon and Davos are somewhere planning and plotting with Jorah, but Gendry is standing by the bow of the ship watching the waves. She still hadn't figured out where she knew him from, but she was fascinated by his story. One of the older bastards of Robert Baratheon and perhaps the only one still alive, he was only a few years younger than Jon or herself. He had been raised by his mother until she died and then apprenticed to a blacksmith. He was tall and lean with the thick shoulders, chest and arms one would expect of a blacksmith. He had black hair and bright blue eyes. Apparently, he looked a great deal like a young Robert before years of drinking and whoring had turned him soft and fat.

She walked up to the rail next to him and joined him in watching the waves crash against the side if the ship.  "Your Grace." he greeted her and bowed slightly and then looked very lost for something more to say. "I don't know how to talk to a princess, much less one my father organized the murder of her family and sent assassins after.

Alyssays laughed. He was charming in much the same way Jon was. Courteous and kind but cautions of how other perceived him because of his birth. "As my sister is fond of saying, we are not our fathers, and thank the gods for that." He smiles and nods his head in agreement. "Did you know that we are actually cousins?" she asked. He looked at her in surprise. "Robert Baratheon's grandmother was a Targaryen, it's part of why so many flocked to his side during the rebellion. He was one of the few legitimate heirs if my father's line were to be eliminated."

"I didn't know that." He admitted. "Of course, I'm also a bastard, so..."

"You think the legitimacy of your birth makes you less Baratheon?" She asks and shakes her head. "Blood is blood Gendry Waters, trust someone who can't escape theirs."

"Would you really?" He asked. "If you could?"

She leaned down to rest her chin in her hand and stared at the horizon trying to imagine it. "It's a good question. What would I be if I weren't a Targaryen? Likely not a seer. I wouldn't have been hunted all my life. Wouldn't have been traded like cattle to the Dothraki. Wouldn't have to worry about the pesky inbreeding and if I'll go mad from it someday." He almost chocked on his laughter and she started laughing as well. "Well it's true!" she laughed and teased him. "Count yourself lucky, Targaryen's have married far closer than second cousins in the past."

He couldn't stop chucking for several moments and finally turned to look at her after collecting himself. "Well cousin. I certainly flattered. But I have no intention of being on the sharp end of Jon Snow's sword anytime ever. So, I think I will keep my distance."