The Last Stag • Game of Thrones

34.

Chapter Thirty-Four.
All My Sins

Gendry had decided that he hated the North.

His boots crunched against the snow, the thick furs of his coat protecting his skin from the winds that lashed against his bare face. He pulled his hood further down his head, the chill beginning to rattle his bones.

"You alright?" A voice asked. He turned, seeing Jon Snow appear at his side. "Ever been north before?"

"Never seen snow before." Gendry struggled to make his voice appear strong.

"Beautiful, aye?" The Wildling man, Tormund, butted in. "I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit."

"You've never been to the South." Jon argued. 

"I've been to Winterfell."

"That's the North."

Tormund snorted. 

"How do you live up here?" Gendry's breath fogged in front of him. "How do you keep your balls from freezing off?"

"Got to keep movin', that's the secret." Tormund grinned wildly. "Walking's good. Fighting is better. Fucking's best."

"No way there's a living woman within a hundred miles of here." Gendry narrowed his eyes. Tormund leaned in, smiling wickedly.

"We've got to make do with what we've got." He snickered.

Gendry pulled a face, repulsed at the implication.

Tormund pulled back, shaking his head, smile still on his face.

"They tell me your name's Baratheon." Tormund raised his eyebrows. "Last Baratheon I knew woulda' found that funny. Ah, my little breadloaf."

Gendry looked to Tormund.

"And what Baratheons have you known? And breadloaf?"

"He means Renfri." Jon's voice had grown quieter beside him. "Called her breadloaf because of the cuts on her face, like the ones you'd make in a loaf of bread. And he's right. She would have found that hilarious."

"Wait." Gendry struggled not to trip over his own feet in surprise. "You two knew Princess Renfri Baratheon?"

"Knew 'er?" Tormund laughed. "She was one of my dearest friends in the short time we were together. Hell, I knew her. Jon loved her."

Gendry's eyes snapped to Jon. His face was sullen from more than the cold. 

Jon caught him staring and nodded in a sad way.

"I did." He confirmed, though he couldn't meet Gendry's eyes. "You never met her?"

"No." Gendry shook his head. "Never had the pleasure."

Jon was silent for a long moment. Their boots crunched against the snow.

"She was electric." Jon finally spoke, a quiet smile on his face despite the stinging cold. "Could walk into any room, every man would fall to his knees. She braved the North well for a southerner. Fought at our side at the battle of Hardhome."

"She shivered like a wet dog in the North." Tormund laughed. "Jon's seeing her through love-eyes. No, no. Renfri was always going on and on about how much she missed the sun. And she got her arse whooped at Hardhome. Fought well, but still got whooped. She couldn't talk for hours afterwards, the cold freezing her vocal cords shut."

"Because she was grabbed by a White Walker." Jon argued, his cheeks turning red. His eyes flickered back to Gendry. "You would have liked Renfri. She took great pride in her family, in her country. It meant the world to her. Adored her father, her brothers, her sister. She would be thrilled to know that she still has a brother walking Westeros."