AN: So this is my first story. With the whole Gendry = Edric thing the show is doing, I have been thinking a lot about the possibility (not very likely) that these two may meet, should Gendry take over Edric's role fully and end up in Essos.
This is takes place around the time in ADwD where Arya's lost her sight and has taken the identity of Blind Beth.
"This is good work, boy."
It was late afternoon and the orange streaks of light that bled through the shutters made the blade glimmer as Lord Ollie inspected the freshly forged dagger.
The dark haired boy nodded his thanks and shifted his weight uncomfortably, keeping his gaze set on the blade; never meeting the man's eyes. Lord Ollie was a stranger still, even when Gendry had lived with him for over four months.
This whole place was strange, and Gendry strange in it.
Lord Ollie was a short, carefree man with a round belly and a thick, greying beard he kept neatly trimmed. He smiled too much, flashing his perfect set of teeth like a horse. Over all, he was a kind man. By far the kindest Gendry had served. He often wondered if Davos had anything to do with the unfitting kindness he received.
When he wasn't running the occasional errand for the man, Gendry spent his days fixing up the the small, unused forge near Lord Ollie's dock. He refused to explore the city, as Lord Ollie suggested he do many times.
"The forge is yours now, lad," the man had said when Gendry had asked if he could move a few things around. "You may do as you like with it."
In the months he had lived with Lord Ollie, he hadn't asked Gendry many questions. He gave him his space. The arrangement was a peculiar one. He wasn't a servant and he wasn't a ward. He ran errands mostly because Gendry had insisted, and up until a few of days ago he had not even bothered to look over any of his work. He decided to put his skills to the test by requesting he make a dagger for his nephew's 13th name day.
"Ever worked with Valyrian steel?" Lord Ollie slipped the dagger back inside it's scabbard and turned to Gendry.
"Tobho Mott was going to teach me, but then..."
Lord Ollie nodded, understanding, and patted Gendry's shoulder with a heavy palm. Gendry flinched. He still couldn't stand being touched. Even when it had been nearly half a year since the red priestess.
Davos was a quiet man, but he had explained the gravity of the situation quite thoroughly to Gendry as they hiked down the cliffs of Dragonstone and rowed out to sea during the hour of the wolf, where Gendry had been plucked into a ship. That night was still a dark blur to him.
The pirate Salladhor, whose ship took Gendry from Westeros to Essos, told him a few stories about the Onion Knight. That night, Gendry came to the conclusion that Davos was a man he could trust. A man of honor, even if he had met him in a dungeon. But Gendry was wary still. It was beyond his control.
He should be used to it by now; not having control over his life. Every time he fell into a new situation though, he also fell into the most disgusting of emotions. Hope. He had hoped the Wall would offer a better home than Kingslanding had. Then he had hoped again when he'd met the Brotherhood. And when the red priestess bought him off the bastards, he had been stupid to hope, yet again. Her words had been promising. They had hypnotized him. He truly believed everything she claimed she saw in his eyes, and in his future. He just had no idea the cruel reality behind her prophecies.
His exterior was hardening. The flame of hope still burned somewhere inside of him, thanks to Davos, but it burned low. Low and weak, and whatever misfortune came at him next, Gendry knew, would have the means to extinguish it forever.
He spent his days in Braavos waiting for it. As he walked the streets of the city, he glanced around at every one; around every corner, behind ever shuttered window, through the cracks of every ajar door he passed, just waiting for... well.. not even Gendry knew what he was waiting for. But it was there. Large, and dark, and waiting for him. Waiting for him to get too comfortable. For him to let his guard down. For his hope to gain strength. So, Gendry kept his hope at the brink of ceasing to exist.
"You need another name," Lord Ollie had said to him on his first morning in Braavos. "Any name. It shall be your new name from now, until you die. It will be the name you will give to anyone that ever asks."
Gendry feared a new name wouldn't protect him. Nothing could. It was not a name that Queen Cersei's Gold Cloaks were after on the Kingsroad, and it certainly wasn't a name that the Brotherhood sold to Melisandre.
It was the blood in his veins. The bastard blood of a King.
"Well, why don't you take this down to Tam," Lord Ollie placed the dagger in Gendry's hand, careful not to touch him. "He will love it."
Gendry nodded in obedience and turned for the door.
As he made his way down to the docks, where he would most likely find Tam, Gendry thought about what Lord Ollie had mentioned; about forging Valyrian steel. Perhaps Tam would know of someone who could teach Gendry how to work with it.
The boy was by the docks, just as Gendry had suspected. There was a shipment arriving, and Tam was standing aside amongst a small crowd that bobbed their heads curiously at the unloading ship.
Gendry watched as men carried chests and barrels off the ship, until someone caught his eye. The dagger, the ship and the young boy were forgotten. His eyes were on a skinny girl sat by one of the canals.
Gendry licked his lips nervously as he took several involuntary steps towards her. Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her face, but he would recognize that back anywhere, even with no hair.
"Edric!" he heard Tam calling behind him, but he ignored the boy and crossed the rest of the way to the girl. He inhaled deeply, reaching a hand towards her shoulder.
"Don't touch me," she warned him before he could touch her. She spoke Braavosi, but her accent was Westerosi, and for a second Gendry's heart jumped with hope. But then the girl turned and Gendry had to blink several times to shake away the overwhelming feelings that threatened to cause his knees to give.
It wasn't Arya.
"I could hear you walking," the blindfolded girl explained, "That's how I knew you were behind me."
He opened his mouth, about to apologize for disturbing her, when Tam skidded to a stop besides him, catching his breath and grabbing at his sides. "Edric!" he gasped out excitedly.
"This is yours." Gendry pushed the dagger rudely into his hands, "Happy name day, from your uncle," He bowed his head.
The boy minded his gift for a few seconds before he turned to the girl sitting by the canal. "Why are you talking to her?"
Gendry was feeling irritated, whether by his own foolish mistake or by Tam's energy, and he wanted the boy to leave him alone. He gritted his teeth. "You should go thank your uncle, boy," he shoved the boy gently by the shoulder, and thankfully, the boy obeyed.
"Edric?" the girl pulled her legs over the edge, and clumsily rose off the ground with the help of her walking stick. The stick caught on a crack and on instinct, Gendry caught her arm to steady her. She snatched it away from him and he took a step back, regarding her features carefully. The cloth that was binded around her head to cover her eyes hid most of her face, but what little skin could be seen, was covered in gruesome pox scars. The scars ran along her neck and arms as well. She had a mole, her head was shaved, and she looked unhealthily skinny, and very dirty.
"Yes." he said carefully.
"That's your name?"
Gendry took a moment to answer.
The girl's head cocked to one side. "I'm Beth."
please review. tell me what you think.