"Yours was Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. He slew Rhaegar at the Trident. And he grew up in this very stronghold."

She was not a child. Not any longer. She knew Gendry to possess more than enough wit to know exactly who his father was, titles and all. But she had scented the treason on the air and she saw fit to stem it with a stern reminder of all King Robert stood for in the eyes of those families who loved and supported him. She had no head for the gritty details of politics, but she knew her father adored King Robert. She knew the Mad King had murdered her grandfather and her uncle. She'd been taught to claim the rebellion as a just thing. Inevitable, really.

"And he would be proud of you, Gendry Waters." Would he? She did not know. The King had frightened her, usually, with his boisterous voice and sharp-tongued ennui. And once they'd reached King's Landing he had not lasted long. But he'd noticed her just enough to want to join the houses of Baratheon and Stark together via a marriage to her, and she did not think he expected it to go so cruelly as it had. "You look more like him than his true born children do."

As for her 'father'? Kind was a generous word, and she chose not to debate it.