He had never seen snow before. He had never seen snowflakes fall from the sky or caress his skin. From the boat it looked heavenly, almost welcoming. He tried to keep his curiosity about it at bay. They weren't here to relish in the snow; they were here on a mission.
He was here on a mission.
This is what he had been waiting for, to finally prove his worth. He wasn't just Gendry Waters: fleebottton bastard. He was Gendry son of Robert Baratheon, King Robert Baratheon, and that had to mean something. He was in the presence of The King of the North, another bastard, and that had to mean something.
He was in the presence of Arya's brother.
So he had kept quiet, sat at the table, observed and listened. Then, when morning came the seven of them ventured beyond the wall, to the true north. That was what Tormund the wilding had called it.
He was the only one to keep his hood off when their journey started, his curiosity getting the better of him. He just wanted to feel the snow on his skin, the fascination with it confused him. The wind was violent and the land was white, everywhere he saw white and barren. It was all very grim, yet there was a part of him he couldn't control that was excited about being there, about finally being in the thick of things. He smiled, what an idiot he must look like. With his life being in danger like never before, he felt hopeful and free.
Someone pulled the hood over his head, startled he turned to see Jon Snow smirk at him. "Snow burns," he explained, "worse than fire if you ask me."
He nodded back to him, "is this what Winterfell is like?"
"No. It's beautiful." Jon sighed and Gendry watched the King of the North survey over the land, his mouth set in a straight line. He looks tired Gendry thought.
"I know now is not the moment your grace, but I knew your sister. We traveled together, before we met up with the brotherhood she was headed to the wall, to you."
They stared at each other for a moment, "Arya. Lady Arya." He clarified to the King. "we were separated and I…"
He couldn't figure out the right words to say. How could he describe to the King what his sister's friendship had meant to him? "I'm sorry for your loss…"
"My sister is not dead."
"Oh?"
"I only just found out too." Jon smiled, "this is why surviving this is important, I need to see my family again."
Behind them the Hound chuckled, "I knew she was alive. That fierce little wolf can survive anything."
The others nodded in agreement.
"Well I am certainly glad my sister made some friends on her journey home. If we survive this, Winterfell has a warm bed for all of you."
A warm bed in Winterfell, that was a prospect Gendry very much looked forward to. He felt his chest swell and warm up even as the wind assaulted the rest of his body. Jon had said the snow in Winterfell was more beautiful. He longed to see it now more than ever, to feel the snow caress his skin, and to see Arya there with a knowing smile, telling him how she was right. He should have followed her North, gone with her to her brother. But, he was here now, closer than ever. Closer to seeing her once again.