That humbled him nearly instantly. His bitterness had grown think in the last few months, ever since his escape from Storm's End. Encouraged by the anger of the Brotherhood's own broken and hurt soldiers, he had fostered a resentment for the outside world. He'd grown to hate Lords and Ladies, despise kin that turned against their own. His own uncle had been named a kinslayer by some, by those who believe he murdered his own brother. The previous king and his hand were killed by the same man, now a kinslayer on the run. And for half a moment, he thought Mya might have been the same, even if only by choosing to turn an eye away from his plight.

He recalled that stupid boy he'd been back on the Street of Steel. He'd made himself a horned helmet, fancying that he'd one day wear it and earn some sort of acclaim beyond a smith's life. But now he was nothing more than a bitter fugitive, whom half the country wanted dead simply because his drunken father was a faithless womanizer who stuck himself into his whore of a mother.

Gendry saw predators everywhere and even now with Alayne, he found himself constantly watching her for her true intentions. Nobody was this nice. Nobody was this generous. And we bastards are the most treacherous of all.

"My apologies, m'lady. I didn't realize."