hammerwielded:
WHAT worth does a bastard have? Gendry would not be so sure, really. After all, he knows that Loras’ sister is going to marry a Lannister king, with the same mother who wanted to get rid of him. The thought of how many of his half-siblings might have died still somewhat hurts. Once he’s comfortable in his saddle, he gives the knight a long look and a small amused smile. "Hope what for?” he asks, looking thoughtfully at Loras. He still isn’t so sure why the older man meant to help and he tries to recall if there is anything he could remember that would help but not so much. “Well, I’m sorry if you feel awkward while looking at me” that much he noticed. “I understand it’s weird. I still like to think it’s my face at the end of the day but well.” Not saying so much more he simply brings his mare to move, looking back over his shoulder, this time, finding his smirk once more. “Ya coming or not?”
MOVING in silence for several moments was more eerie than comfortable. Loras paused again, trying to unpack all that the boy had said. All that had been mentioned so flippantly that he ought to have been worried. He followed slowly, his eyes on the thicket of dark hair, rigid as Renly’s had been, and perhaps just as soft to the touch, though he’d not venture to do so anytime soon. “We hope for peace, not through brute strength but through compassion, a trait I imagine you have in spades,” Loras starts, giving a click of his tongue and finding his mare head to head with Gendry’s. They could walk evenly enough between one another now, though the knight was uncertain he could continue in this manner, sidelong glances that could prove dangerous. “Do you know your noble houses? Outside of the knights you smithed for?” He finally asks, wondering if he knew the full extent. The history of Westeros as he’d been taught as a boy. If he knew that he now marched toward Highgarden, toward the Tyrells, toward those who once sieged his presumable family. “Or what we’re known for?”
