Tell me if the story is good or bad then i will stop it (or continue) and make the fic I always wanted to make about a divine beast in House OF The Dragon.
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The forests beyond Storm's End had always been Gendry's refuge. When the weight of lordship pressed too heavily on his shoulders, when the endless parade of petitions and politics threatened to suffocate him, he'd saddle his horse and disappear into these woods. Today, he'd brought Stannis with him—his eldest boy, already carrying himself like a man grown. The lad had been quieter than usual since the talk wirh Thor, his jaw set in that stubborn way that reminded Gendry painfully of his own uncle.
"You're thinking too loud, Father," Stannis said, his voice cutting through the forest silence. His horse nickered softly, picking its way over fallen logs.
Gendry glanced at his son, noting the dark circles under his eyes. "Am I now? And what am I thinking about?"
"Thor. and what it will result in. Whether bringing me out here was meant to distract me or yourself."
'Seven hells, the boy's too perceptive.'Gendry shifted in his saddle, the leather creaking. "Can't it be both?"
For the first time in days, Stannis almost smiled. Almost. "I suppose it can."
They rode in comfortable silence for a while, the hunting party spread out behind them. Ser Galen had insisted on coming, of course—the old knight never let Gendry venture far without proper protection. Three young squires followed, eager for adventure, their chatter a welcome backdrop to the forest sounds.
But something was wrong.
It started with the birds. First, their songs grew scattered, hesitant. Then they stopped altogether. The very air seemed to thicken, pressing against Gendry's chest like a physical weight. His horse began to dance sideways, ears flattened.
"Father?" Stannis's voice was tight with concern.
Before Gendry could answer, the wind shifted. It came from the east, then the west, then swirled around them in a way that made no natural sense. The temperature dropped so suddenly that their breath began to mist.
"Something's not right," Gendry muttered, his hand instinctively moving to the hammer at his back. The familiar weight was reassuring, but not enough to quiet the growing dread in his gut.
The sky above them, which had been a clear blue moments before, began to darken. Not with ordinary storm clouds, but with something that looked almost oily, like smoke from wet wood. Lightning flickered in the distance—silent, unnatural lightning that made the hair on Gendry's arms stand on end.
"Everyone stay close!" he called to the party. "Something's coming!"
Stannis moved his horse closer to his father's. "What kind of something?"
"The kind that kills people," Gendry said grimly.
The first real gust of wind nearly unseated two of the squires. It howled through the trees with a voice like a living thing, bending ancient oaks as if they were saplings. The horses were in full panic now, eyes rolling white, fighting their riders' attempts to control them.
"There!" Ser Galen shouted over the rising storm, pointing toward a rocky outcropping. "Cave!"
They spurred their mounts forward as the heavens opened. The rain didn't fall—it attacked, driving horizontally with enough force to sting exposed skin. Lightning began to fork across the sky in earnest now, accompanied by thunder that seemed to shake the very ground.
The cave mouth was narrow, barely wide enough for the horses, but they forced their way inside just as a bolt of lightning struck a tree not fifty yards behind them. The crack was deafening, followed by the crash of falling timber.
"Fuking hells," one of the squires gasped, then immediately looked mortified. "Sorry, m'lord."
"I'd say that's appropriate under the circumstances," Gendry panted, sliding from his saddle. His legs were shaking—whether from the ride or the fear, he couldn't say.
The cave was larger than it had appeared from outside, stretching back into darkness. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, and the air smelled of damp stone and something else—something musky and wild.
That should have been their first warning.
The bear came out of the darkness like a nightmare made flesh. It was huge, easily eight feet tall when it reared up on its hind legs, its fur matted and scarred from countless battles. One of its eyes was milky white with blindness, but the other fixed on them with murderous intelligence.
Time slowed. Gendry saw Stannis's face go white with shock, saw the boy's hand fumble for his sword. He saw one knight step forward, his own blade already singing from its sheath. He saw the bear's massive paw sweep down—
"Stannis, move!"
His son threw himself sideways, but not quickly enough. The bear's claws caught him across the shoulder, tearing through his hunting leathers like parchment. Stannis hit the cave wall hard and slid down, leaving a streak of blood on the stone.
Rage filled Gendry's vision with red. His hammer was in his hands without conscious thought, and he was moving, roaring like a beast himself. The bear turned toward him, jaws gaping, and he brought the weapon down with every ounce of strength in his body.
The impact jarred his arms to the shoulder, but the bear's skull caved with a wet crunch. The creature toppled backward and lay still.
"Stannis!" Gendry dropped his hammer and rushed to his son's side. The boy was conscious but pale, his left shoulder a mess of torn cloth and blood. "Let me see. Let me see it."
"I'm all right," Stannis said through gritted teeth, but his voice was shaky. "Just... just give me a moment."
"Like hell you're all right." Gendry's hands were gentle as he examined the wounds. Three parallel gashes, deep but not life-threatening if they were cleaned properly. "Ser, do we have anything for bandages?"
"Aye, m'lord." The old knight was already tearing strips from his own shirt. "Could've been worse. Bear was probably more scared than angry."
"Scared bears are the most dangerous kind," one of the squires said, his voice still high with adrenaline.
Gendry worked in silence, cleaning and binding his son's wounds as best he could with their limited supplies. Outside, the storm continued to rage with unnatural fury. Lightning struck again and again, each flash illuminating the cave mouth like daylight.
"Father," Stannis said quietly, "this isn't a normal storm."
"No," Gendry agreed, not looking up from his work. "No, it's not."
"It started because of..?"
"Thor,Yes." Gendry's hands stilled on the bandage. The timing was too precise to be coincidence. The moment his youngest son had drawn his last breath, the sky had torn itself apart.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind howl like a mourning woman. The cave felt smaller with each passing minute, the weight of stone and sky pressing down on them.
"Do you think Thor is well?" Stannis finally asked.
The question Gendry had been avoiding. The one that made his stomach clench with equal parts pride and terror. "I don't know," he lied.
But he did know. Deep in his bones, he knew. His youngest son, his strange, quiet boy who'd always been different—Thor had called this storm. Maybe not consciously, maybe not with intent, but it had answered him all the same.
"He's just a child," Stannis said, as if reading his thoughts.
"So were you, when you killed your first man," Gendry replied. "So was I, when I took up this hammer. Age doesn't matter when the gods decide to take notice."
The storm began to weaken as the sun set, though darkness brought no comfort. They emerged from the cave to find the forest transformed—trees uprooted, streams running backward, the very landscape scarred by otherworldly fury.
The ride back to Storm's End was a nightmare of muddy roads and fallen branches. Gendry kept Stannis close, watching for signs that his son's wounds were worsening. The boy was tough—tougher than he had any right to be at sixteen—but blood loss and shock were insidious enemies.
When the castle finally came into view two days has passed in the travels, its familiar walls looked strange in the aftermath of the storm. One of the towers bore scorch marks from lightning strikes, and the courtyard was flooded ankle-deep.
"My lords!" A squire ran toward them as they clattered through the gates, his face flushed with excitement and fear. "Thank the Seven you're safe! We thought... when the storm came..."
"What happened here?" Gendry demanded, sliding from his saddle and reaching up to help Stannis down.
"It's... it's about Thor, m'lord. And Garrick. When the young lad died, the storm came, and Thor... he changed."
Gendry's blood turned to ice. "Changed how?"
The boy swallowed hard, clearly struggling with words. "You need to see for yourself, m'lord. He's in the solar with the others. But m'lord... he's not the same."
They found the solar crowded with worried faces. Maester Edric stood by his usual spot near the window, his chain catching the firelight as he scribbled frantically in a leather-bound journal. Althera sat in the window seat, her sharp green eyes missing nothing. Ser Davrin had positioned himself near the door—always the protector, always ready for trouble.
But it was Thor who commanded the room's attention. He stood by the great hearth, no longer the slight twelve-year-old boy Gendry remembered. He was taller now, his shoulders broader, his face bearing the angular planes of approaching manhood. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his eyes...
His eyes held the weight of storms.
"Father," Thor said, his voice deeper than it had been that morning. "You're hurt, Stannis."
It wasn't a question. Somehow, he knew.
"Bear in a cave," Stannis said, his good arm unconsciously moving to shield his injured shoulder. "Nothing that won't heal."
Thor nodded, but his gaze lingered on the bloodstained bandages. For just a moment, Gendry saw something flicker across his son's face—guilt, perhaps, or responsibility. As if the bear attack had been his fault somehow.
"Garrick is dead," Gendry said, watching Thor's reaction carefully.
"Yes." Thor's voice was steady, but Gendry caught the slight tremor underneath. "I was with him when it happened."
"And the storm?"
Thor was quiet for a long moment, staring into the fire. When he spoke, his words were measured, careful. "It wasn't something I meant to do. It just... happened. Like breathing, or thinking. It was there, and I was angry, and..."
"And you called lightning from the sky," Ser Davrin said quietly.
"I didn't call it." Thor's head came up, his strange new eyes meeting the knight's steady gaze. "It came because it wanted to. Because it knew I needed it."
The silence that followed was heavy with implications. Outside, the wind still moaned around the castle walls, though the worst of the storm had passed.
"What are you?" Stannis asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Thor looked at his older brother, and for a moment, Gendry saw a flash of the boy he'd been—uncertain, scared, desperate for acceptance. Then it was gone, replaced by something older and infinitely more complex.
"I'm still your brother," Thor said. "I'm still your son, Father" he added, looking at Gendry. "But I'm also something else now. Something I don't fully understand yet."
"The storm answered you," Gendry said slowly. "Like... like it was alive."
"Maybe it was." Thor shrugged, a gesture so typically boyish that it was jarring coming from his transformed frame. "Maybe everything is alive, and we just don't know how to listen properly."
Maester Edric looked up from his writing. "In the old books, there are stories of men who could command the elements. Storm lords, they were called. Most scholars dismiss them as legend."
"Most scholars never saw a twelve-year-old boy split the sky open," Althera said dryly.
Gendry felt the weight of decision settling on his shoulders. Whatever Thor had become, he was still his son. Still his responsibility. And if the gods had chosen to gift—or curse—his family with power, then they would face it together.
"We'll figure this out," he said finally, his voice firm with fatherly authority. "Whatever you are now, whatever you can do, you're still a Baratheon. You're still my boy. We'll learn to understand this gift, and we'll use it wisely."
Thor's shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he'd been holding his breath. "You're not afraid of me?"
The question broke Gendry's heart. He crossed the room in three quick strides and pulled his transformed son into a fierce hug, not caring that Thor now stood nearly as tall as he did.
"I'm terrified," he admitted against Thor's hair. "But not of you. Never of you. I'm afraid for you, because power like this... it changes everything. But we'll face it together, as a family."
When he pulled back, there were tears in Thor's violet eyes—and for that moment, he looked like nothing more than a scared child who'd lost his brother and found himself carrying a burden too heavy for his years.
Outside, thunder rolled one last time across the Stormlands, like a promise or a warning. Time would tell which.
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Chapter End.