Gendry stood on the stairs leading up to the castle of Cape Wrath. In the courtyard in front of him stood thousands of men. Stormlanders fighting for him. They had now defeated the Dornish strongholds along the coast. That war was won. But he knew another war was coming.

His right arm was still in a sling and his head still felt fuzzy sometimes, but he needed to be strong anyway. He needed to be a leader. He needed to be Lord Gendry Baratheon. Regardless of if he felt like it or not.

Meera stood on one side of him, holding their daughter, and Davos stood on the other. Bastian, Stannis, Marya, and Brynda stood beside them.

"Warriors of the Stormlands," he addressed his men. "We fought, we suffered, and we won. I might be injured, but I'm not beaten, We're not beaten. Our lands still stand strong. Because we are proud, we are fierce, and we are strong. We Stormlanders, and we will never surrender."

His voice didn't bellow like his father's, but it rang strong and true. The words came to him easily again, after the cloud had started to lift from his head. Sometimes he paused briefly, almost unnoticeable, to find the right word. But he always found them. He sounded unbreakable, despite his body still being broken.

"I am Lord Gendry Baratheon, the son of King Robert Baratheon, and I will never let anyone take these lands. This is our home and this is my home. I might not be born here but you have still welcomed me as one of your own. You gave a home to a boy that never had one, and I will never stop fighting for that home. There will be more battles to come. The king currently has Storm's End under siege. He's trying to get to me, my wife, and my daughter. But I won't let him. I will break that siege, and I will fight him again if I need to."

With his left hand, Gendry raised his war hammer in the air. It was heavy to lift with his non-dominant left hand but he showed no outward struggle.

"I will never back down, and I will always fight, for the Stormlands!" he shouted.

The men in front of him lifted their weapons as well.

"For the Stormlands!" they yelled in unison.

As the cheering quieted down, Gendry stepped back from the stairs and walked towards the door. A jolt of pain suddenly went through his skull as he walked away. A migraine came on fast and strong. He braced himself in the doorway and managed to get inside to sit down on a bench. The room around him spun and the light seemed to hurt his eyes.

Meera was soon by his side. "What's the matter?" his wife asked as she crouched in front of him with Joreen gurgling in her arms.

"My head," he mumbled as he covered his face in his hands.

"I'll call for Davos," she said and kissed his forehead.

Davos came along and lead Gendry to the bedroom, where it was quiet and dark.

"Do you think the men saw me stumble?" Gendry asked Davos as he put him down on the bed.

"No," Davos replied.

"I want them to think I'm strong. Stronger than I am. Otherwise, they might not follow me."

"You seemed strong. But I think they would follow you anyway."

Gendry nodded and closed his eyes. He tried to shut out everything around him until the pain went away. Usually, it took a few hours at least.

Soon he would have to fight. Regardless of if he was strong or not. The king couldn't know he wasn't.

***

The king was currently somewhere else, lost in a green dream that wasn't of his own making, and he had forgotten what he was looking for. Perhaps he had even forgotten who he was. Instead, he looked mesmerized toward the river in the middle of the battlefield on which he stood.

Two men on horses fought on that river. One with stag antlers on his helmet, golden yellow armor, and a giant war hammer. The other one with long silvery curls flowing out under a flaming helmet, night-black armor adorned with rubies, and a shining long-sword.

Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen. This was where it ended, that time.

They circled each other, waiting for the other one to strike. The water raged furiously around them and reached far above their horses' legs.

Bran moved closer. He wanted to see and hear everything.

Robert struck first. His impatience and hot-headedness made him unable to wait. Rhaegar skillfully parried his hammer. He was the better fighter of the two, everyone could see that. He had technique and grace while Robert just had brute force and stamina.

But skill can only get you so far. Anger can get you further.

And anger was what fueled Robert as he relentlessly kept barraging Rhaegar with strikes. Anger for losing the woman he thought he loved. The strikes came hard and fast.

"Where is Lyanna?" Robert yelled as he thrust his hammer towards Rhaegar.

"Lyanna is where she wishes to be," Rhaegar replied confidently as he once again parried. He was convinced he was the prince that was promised, and the prince that was promised wouldn't die here.

The anger took over and Robert forgot to shield himself. He left an opening for Rhaeger on his left side. The prince struck quickly, burrowing his sword between Robert's ribs, right in the seam between his breastplate and backplate.

"Lyanna belongs with me," he whimpered as the blood gushed out of the wound. He fell down over the neck of his horse, holding on to the saddle not to fall.

"Then why did she come with me?" Rhaegar replied as he got ready to deal the final blow.

A smile fell over Rhaegar's face as he thought of Lyanna. While Rhaegar smiled Robert struck. A moment of inattention gave him an opportunity. He might be wounded but he wasn't dead yet, and the audacity of his opponent to claim that the woman he loved would have left on her own accord filled him with such anger that he no longer felt his injury. That could not happen to Robert Baratheon.

The hammer hit Rhaegar's chest with such power that it knocked him off his horse. It ripped through his armor and cracked his ribcage. Spiky ribs punctured his lungs and heart.

It took the prince by surprise. This wasn't how this was supposed to end. He had not yet achieved the promised deeds he was supposed to.

But that's where it did end. Rhaegar fell into the river. His blood mixed with the muddy water. The rubies from his broken breastplate were swept away by the stream. Taking with it any beauty there might have been in war.

"Lyanna..." was the last words that left the prince's lips as his collapsed lungs screamed for air. Then his severed heart gave in and he drowned in his own blood before the river could take his life.

That's how it ended. Prince Rhaegar died. The capital burned. King Aerys fell.

Then another king rose. King Robert Baratheon.

The king suddenly realized how long he had been there. Way too long. He didn't have time for this. He should be in Valyria, learning the secret tune. But first, he needed to get back to the kingdom. He needed to write another story.

***

"Forward!" the call from their lord bellowed as the Baratheon soldiers ran towards Storm's End.

At the same time as the troops ran towards the castle, the gates opened and thousands of men spilled out from the castle. The remaining Baratheon men enforced by the sailors serving under Arya Stark. She had sailed to the castle and entered with her men through the tunnels to tell Howland about the plan and help them fight.

The king's men were caught in between. Trapped with nowhere to go. Overmanned.

The Baratheon troops were decimated after the fights against the Dornish, but together with Arya's men, they outnumbered the king's men. But beyond their numerical advantage, they had an advantage in motivation. They had everything to fight for. Their homelands, their future, their lord.

Gendry Baratheon stood behind the lines and watched his men fight for him. Die for him.

He wasn't ready to fight. He wasn't strong enough for that yet. But he was strong enough to lead his men in battle.

A dull headache still lingered, but he ignored it. His arm was finally out of the sling and the splints were gone. Instead, his arm was encased in a tight leather casing that went from his knuckles up to his elbow. He couldn't yet grip or lift things with it so the warhammer went in his left hand. He wouldn't be able to swing it with that hand, but it made him look the part.

Gendry Baratheon looked strong, and that's what mattered.

His wife stood by his side, spear in hand. Ready to mow down any enemy that came their way. Gendry knew she would protect him if needed. Their daughter had been left back at Cape Wrath with Marya. Joreen was a bit too small to partake in battle just yet.

The battle was won quickly. It was almost as if the king had forgotten that he had sent men to Storm's End and left them to be plowed down.

Lord and Lady Baratheon walked into the courtyard together. They looked upon the burned walls of their castle. Black stones and soot marks revealed where the dragon had spewed its fire. Storm's End was damaged, but still standing. Just like its lord. And just like its lord, it would be patched together again.

Howland Reed walked up to them, dirty from the battle but still standing as well, and Meera threw her arms around her father.

"I was worried about you," she said.

"I told you not to worry about me," Howland said with a smile. "I always seem to come out of battles alive."

"Thank you," Gendry said and stretched out his good arm towards his father-in-law. "The castle would have been lost without you."

"I still got some fight left in me," Howland said. "It almost felt like I was back in my youth. Fighting for a Baratheon against a king."

"We might have to fight this king again," Gendry sighed. "I don't think he's done yet. I won't go against him, I won't do what my father did. But I think the king will go against me."

Gendry was right. The king wasn't done. He had only just begun.

But Gendry was also wrong. Because he would soon do what his father had done before him.

***

The king opened his eyes. He wondered for how long he had been lost in his dreams.

Outside he heard people yelling on the streets. Simple humans with their simple demands.

The door came open and Ser Bronn stepped into the room. "You're back," Bronn said. "I was starting to wonder if you were gone for good. It's been many weeks."

Weeks. Months. Years. It was all the same to the king. Simple human ways to tell time. To try to make sense of their reality.

"I needed to find something," the king said.

"And did you?"

"It doesn't matter. Not to you."

Bronn sighed, perhaps he was getting tired of the king's cryptic speech. But the king knew Bronn was faithful to him because the former sellsword would do anything to acquire wealth and power. As long as the king gave Bronn that he wouldn't betray him or hesitate to do his bidding.

"What are the people going on about out there?" the king asked and nodded towards the balcony. The yells from the people hadn't quieted down.

"The usual," Bronn replied. "Food. But they're also upset about the rumors from the Stormlands. They heard about the dragon and they want you to protect them from it. They're terrified it will scorch the city again."

"They don't need to be concerned about the dragon," the king replied while staring into the opposite wall.

He still needed to learn the tune. Then he would find the horn, wherever it was, and the dragon would be his minion. He just needed to ensure that the kingdom didn't spin out of control while he went on his quest.

"Did your you... have anything to do with the dragon?" Bronn asked.

"You don't need to be concerned about that," the king replied, a smirk grazing his lips.

Another sigh from his commander. "News arrived from Storm's End today. The dragon apparently didn't discourage Lord Baratheon. He's risen from the sickbed and broke the siege by his castle."

Apparently, the king had been gone too long. He had got lost and forgot his quest. The intruder had succeeded in his quest. He had given the bastard time he wasn't supposed to have.

But there was still a solution to this. He needed to remove a player from the game. The player who affected all the other players' moves. Then he would be able to control the game again.

"Go there," he ordered Bronn. "Do what I told you to do before. Don't hurt her. Bring her to me."

"And the child?"

"The bastard's child must die. I don't care how."

Bronn looked down at the ground but didn't protest. "What is in it for me?" he just asked. The king had known he would ask. He always did.

"The Stormlands," he said. "Once I'm done with Lord Baratheon you will have his lands."

Bronn nodded. He agreed to the deal. He always did.

As his commander left the room a burst of memories rang in the king's ears. Ned Stark's scream as he saved Howland Reed's life on a muddy battlefield. The gurgling sound of Arthur Dayne dying as Howland came to Ned's rescue in the quest to save Lyanna Stark. Meera Reed's sobs as she put a dagger to her brother's throat. And lastly, her parting words as she left Bran Stark at Winterfell.

"My brother died for you. Hodor and Summer died for you. I almost died for you."

Meera had brought him to safety. She had protected him. She had been willing to die for him.

For a moment, the briefest moment, Bran felt something. He felt guilt. A flood of it washed over him. A tear fell down his cheek and his hand went to catch it. He looked upon the drop in surprise.

Then the king snapped back in control and closed off all feelings. Meera was ruining his plan. This needed to be done.

Author's note: So that's the end of this gigantic chapter... I hope it worked to switch between Gendry recovering and Bran/Jojen traveling around in time, and that I didn't butcher the battle of the Trident too badly :)

The next chapter will be a Devan chapter... because we need to check in with him, Jon, Tormund before this story wraps up. Then there should be about 2 more chapters and that's a wrap!