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DAVOS SEAWORTH WAS NEVER A MAN WHO WAS COMFORTABLE around those that shunned Flea Bottom for its less than desirable living standards, mainly because as a native of the burrow he knew that its poor infrastructure and conditions were down to an uneven distribution of wealth. Those that were born in Flea Bottom rarely got to escape it, as they had nowhere else to go. They wouldn't get the opportunity to marry someone of higher status, someone with land or title. They couldn't simply move away, for they'd have nothing to move to and nothing to bring with them. Yes, Davos was often defensive when people shunned his home place - yet even he couldn't stop himself from feeling distaste as he strolled through the shops. Perhaps he had been living under Stannis' favour for too long.
Sneaking into the city had been an easy feat for the former smuggler, who had been given explicit permission from Queen Daenerys and King Jon to track down a certain individual and sneak them out from the city in case any negotiations with Cersei turned sour. It was a dangerous job, but he couldn't risk losing the poor lad in a war he would want no part of.
The blacksmiths of flea bottom tended to be grouped to one area, so Davos knew where to look without any hint. He trailed slowly along the narrow alleyway, making sure he wouldn't miss the young man although it would be a hard thing to do. The majority of blacksmiths were much older, their faces worn from the strenuous work they carried out.
Although the boy's back was turned and Davos was at a distance, he knew it when he found him. The strength in his shoulders that suggested youth, the short peak Davos got at his side-profile from a short turn to the left - he was found.
"Wasn't sure I'd find ya'," he announced, once close enough for the boy to hear. The blacksmith stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice, slowly turning to reveal himself.
Gendry Baratheon was a man now - no longer a boy, with the muscles and shaved hair to prove it. Davos was taken aback at the sight, for with Gendry's strong jawline and the light stubble that skittered across his cheeks and above his lip, he very much looked like a young Robert Baratheon in his prime.
"I've looked in shops," Davos began, returning the smile that Gendry gave him, "taverns, brothels. I should have known a blacksmith would be on the street of steel."
"But-... the gold cloaks?" Gendry questioned in confusion, eyes trailing after the older man as he confidently strolled around his working area without any fear.
"I haven't been here in years, why should they recognise me when I barely recognise myself? Nothing fucks you harder than time," he spoke wistfully, eyeing a sword that Gendry himself had crafted before turning with a stern look. "Anybody give you any trouble?"
The younger man shook his head, but a sour frustration crossed his expression regardless as he began to speak.
"Here I am arming Lannisters," he shrugged, looking toward his masterfully crafted works with nothing but distaste, "and nobody gives me a second look. But you were right. The safest place for me was right under the Queen's nose."
