The podium in the Dragon Pit was shaped like a half-moon, and on it chairs were set up for all the lords and ladies. The heat was still scorching but at least the roof over the podium provided some shade.
All around them were ruins. Columns, stone walls, and metal bars were scattered all over the Dragon Pit. Behind them were also ruins. The walls of the capital city were still standing but everything had fallen.
Gendry was feeling out of place as he sat there. He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know what he would be expected to do.
But he did know his name and when he heard it called he rose from his seat.
"Gendry Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."
It was the first time he got introduced with his proper title. The other lords and ladies on the stage were all looking at him.
He felt like their eyes burning on him. Burning with disgust and suspicion. At least that's what it seemed like to him.
Like they were trying to figure out if he was actually Robert's son or if he was an imposter.
Like they were wondering in which whorehouse his father had sired him. Somehow he didn't think that the fact that his mother had actually worked at a tavern would matter.
Like they were trying to judge if he was actually up to the task of being a lord.
Truth be told Gendry wasn't sure of that himself yet.
As he looked around the podium he did see some friendly faces though, which made him feel better. Davos, Tyrek Lannister, Howland Reed. Their looks were filled with encouragement and support.
He exhaled, maybe he could do this.
Then his eyes met hers. Arya's. He had tried not to look at her but now he couldn't avoid it. She smiled at him. It wasn't a look of suspicion or disgust. It was a look of pride.
The smile hit him like a stab to the chest. It wrecked him.
His legs suddenly felt wobbly. His head felt light. The assault a smile could cause.
He sat down again as his legs were barely carrying him anymore. Davos gave him a friendly pat on the knee as if to say that he had done well. Or at least not totally embarrassed himself. Which was really all Gendry hoped for these days.
The rest of the lords and ladies were also introduced. Then it was time. The prisoner was led in. It was time to decide the future of the kingdom.
***
You know how this goes...
They all voted for him. Bran Stark. They made him King Bran.
Of course, he wasn't Bran anymore, but they didn't know that. They would come to know though. And they would come to regret their vote.
Maybe they did it because they wanted to. Maybe it was because of some kind of magic. Maybe it was all part of a plan set in motion long ago. Regardless of why they all voted for him.
Gendry Baratheon voted for Bran because Arya had smiled at him. And he didn't want to embarrass himself by going against the other lords.
Howland Reed voted for Bran because his son died for him. And he wanted to make his son's sacrifice matter.
All the other lords and ladies voted for him too. They all did so for their own reasons.
They thought they did the right thing. They were wrong.
***
Everything had happened exactly as the new King wanted it to. He ruled the kingdom. He could control them all.
Now he could finally make the story come to an end.
His powers were growing. He could see now both how the story began and how it ended. He could see all the pieces that made up the story, how they all fell into place. It was a beautiful sight. So orderly, so predictable, so final.
But he couldn't see that one piece already was out of place.
One single piece.
This piece was the only piece he couldn't see, that he couldn't control, that he couldn't predict. Because the small part of him that was still Bran Stark wouldn't let go of that piece. Bran wouldn't let go of her.
Bran wouldn't let go of Meera Reed.
The King knew Meera Reed could change it all. But he thought it didn't matter. That she didn't matter.
He was wrong.
Meera did matter. She mattered more than anyone. Because she had already started to change everything. And it all began the moment when she took Gendry Baratheon's hand.