I Do Not Own Game Of Thrones
He was getting used to the snow. The first time he saw the fields of white, he marveled at its beauty. Then as he trudged north of the wall, he slowly began to hate it. The snow combined with already difficult terrain, made walking painfully difficult. The snow was cold and wet and seeping into his layers of fur and coverings. The wild winds kept slapping him in face for every wrong and stupid mistake he had ever made.
Stupid bull.
He shook his head. The north had so many ghosts. When the fighting began, the snow got in the way. All the stomping and slashing made the flakes float and swirl up like dust. When the king sent him back to the wall for a raven, he was sure the snow would be death of him. His vision was blurred, his lungs burned, and he kept thinking of her.
Stupid bull.
When he collapsed from exhaustion the snow surrounded him. First it was if something was biting him, a thousand tiny needles stabbing his face. Then he became numb, he couldn't feel anything.
Stupid bull.
He had barely been able to choke out the words to Ser Davos to send out a raven before they carried him back into the castle. He stayed there a few hours before being moved to the dragon queen's ship. He was laid in a warm bath that soothed his aching muscles. He had just finished a bowl of broth and bread when Ser Davos and a few men from the night's watch had carried King Jon in. The rest of the men that had traveled with him beyond the wall followed. The Hound had stood in the hall with Gendry.
"It was hell, boy. I thought hell was filled with fire, but it's just ice and corpses."
"Are you still afraid of fire?"
"No," the hound had left him alone in the hall, waiting.
Stupid bull.
Jon had recovered quickly on the voyage to King's Landing. He had asked for him. He had thanked him for all his efforts. It was a powerful moment, for a bastard to be thanked by a King. It filled Gendry with pride at first and then with shame. The King shouldn't be thanking him.
He looked so much like her. Same long face, grey eyes, the Stark features he supposed. They had become fast friends. Jon was easy to talk to. He held no judgment in his voice, no condescension. It was nice, talking to another bastard. Though they both came from two different worlds, they understood each other. People held the same judgments for bastards no matter whose bastards they were. Jon had told him to stay on the ship when they reached King's landing. He looked too much like Robert Baratheon, his father, to face Cersei Lannister. She would know who he was as soon as he walked in the Dragon pit. Gendry drew up plans for weapons and dragon glass, drawing was his way as he never learned a single letter. She had tried to teach him once, she was patient, a good teacher, but his pride had gotten in the way. He had said he had better things to do than deal with a little brat trying to teach him nonsense. That was before he knew who she was.
Stupid bull.
Ser Davos came to him after the council. It seemed Cersei was as agreeable as could be expected. One of her only demands was that Jon not choose a side. The king had simply said that when everything was done, the North was to be freed and left alone.
He was sharing the room with Ser Davos when he heard the King attempt to sneak through the hallways. He had shared a knowing look with Ser Davos before rolling over to face the wall. He was surprised when he heard Jon walk with hurried footsteps back to his room not even half an hour later.
"That was quick. I guess it wasn't what we thought."Ser Davos said more to himself. They had both noticed the lingering looks the monarchs had been giving each other. He had seen that look before, he may have even given the look himself but was too stupid to realize it. They were both just children, he was older, but still a child.
Stupid, stupid bull.
All the men from the north had gathered in the King's chambers on the ship.
"I have been receiving good reports since my sisters' have started running Winterfell. They've started building a reputation for themselves. I knew I had left the north in good hands, but it's nice to have that reaffirmed."
"The little bird and her little wolf sister, very fucking poetic." The hound grunted out but there was no hiding the small smile he tried to fight on his face.
Gendry had frozen when the king said 'sisters'. The king had only had two sisters. One of them he had never met, and the other he had been sure was...
Stupid Bull.
He had to turn away to release a laugh. Her name for him had been right. How stupid was he to think that she wouldn't survive? Of course, she had lived. She was the strongest person he had ever met. Of course, she had made it.
He was suddenly filled with shame and nerves. Was she still angry with him? Did she hate him? Did she ever think of him? Had she already forgotten him? He had never forgotten her. He had been able to put her in the back of his mind at times but she would always work her way back. The guilt he felt for basically abandoning a child, alone in the world. He was not there when she needed him most. He imagined what it would be like if they had stayed together. She had just been starting to grow into a young woman. Her body had been beginning to grow curves and he had been ashamed the night he realized it. She had been hiding everything so well. What would she look like now?
"She'll probably knock you about once or twice, eh boy." The hound looked at him. It got the king's attention.
"What do you mean?" Jon looked between the two men.
"When I found your sister, she was traveling with this one and Beric's lot."
Jon kept his gaze on Gendry.
"You both knew Arya."
"Yes, your grace I met her. "Gendry shifted his weight for a moment.
Jon opened his mouth as if to say something before sitting at the head of the table centered in the room.
"What was she like?"
"She was strong, your grace. Willful, determined, "Gendry started.
"She was a pain in the ass, little runt." The Hound said leaning against the wall. Gendry smiled "But she was a fierce pain, I pity those who angered her."
"Sounds like her," Jon laughed, then looked to Gendry, "Why didn't either of you tell me you knew her?"
"You never asked, Snow." The Hound took a drink from the flask he had been holding.
Jon nodded, Gendry felt at peace.
Now as he looked upon Winterfell, the nerves settled in once again. Would they reunite as old friends? Would she hit and curse him? Would he even recognize her?
Stupid Bull.
The King had been met with cheers and he had accepted them with as much grace as one could expect. The crowds had fell silent when they saw the Targaryen flags following the Starks'. Even the common folk's looks were suspicious and unwelcoming as soon as they laid eyes upon the dragon queen. The dragon's screeching overhead were deafening but not a single northerner looked impressed. The queen herself had a bitterly disappointed look on her face.
He could see a lineup of the northern nobility in front of the main doors of the castle. They were all kneeled with their heads down. Gendry's eyes ran over the line with one person in mind, but he couldn't tell where she was.
The King walked through the snow to the center. He stopped in front of two women. There was a moment, the king said something, then both women rose. One had red hair, she was undoubtedly the common kind of beautiful, but there was something lacking.
The other one. She had chestnut brown hair, hitting her shoulders in waves. She was pale. her features fierce and sharp. Her grey eyes were like fine steel. She held a small smirk with her full lips as she looked up at her brother. She had changed. She had grown. Still, Gendry knew who she was. It was the little lady, now a woman.
Arya.
The snow was falling lightly now. Small flakes landing in her hair and on her eye lashes. Gendry found he quite liked the snow.