The King of Winters

Chapter-36

Andrew

There was no sun outside when they came out of their little room, only a wall of shifting grey fog. The air had grown chill and Joy cursed her lady's finery, a red silk gown with ornate embroidery over the bodice, the line of the collar and the cuff around her dainty wrist. The gown was so fine and it fitted Joy perfectly. She was so beautiful in it but the cloth did nothing to keep her warm from the cold. 

"I'm cold," Joy said as they climbed down the steps from their room on the top. 

Andrew knew that the gown will not save her from the cold but he had thought for a better weather. Unfortunately the cold had risen that day. He moved over to Joy and took off his jacket. "Here, wear it," he said and draped the jacket over her shoulders. Joy held the jacket tighter around her and looked up at him. Her cheeks were already flushed pink in the cold and it only made her more beautiful in his eyes. Her glossy golden hair, so thick and wavy, caught the light from the lantern and shone like beaten gold. 

"Aren't you cold?" Joy asked him, huddling beneath his jacket. 

Andrew took her hand and walked to the canal where the boat he had got for them was chained. "I've been in conditions worse than this," he said. Her hand was warm and soft and he liked holding it. 

"Is Winterfell colder than Braavos?" Joy asked brushing closer against him. 

Andrew chuckled lightly and looked down at her. "Winterfell is hot, as hot as any castle in the south. There are pipes in the walls through which hot water is passed all throughout the castle. I've barely seen my mother using furs to keep her warm when she is in the castle. But the north is cold. The lands are cold and hard but they are beautiful." 

The lantern in his hand showed its light for some two feet before them. The mists seemed to part before him and close up again as they passed. The cobblestones were wet and slick under his feet. He heard a cat yowl plaintively. Braavos was a good city for cats, and they roamed everywhere, especially at night. In the fog all cats are grey, Andrew thought. In the fog all men are killers.

Braavos was lost in fog. He could see the green water of the little canal and the cobbled stone street that ran on the other side of the canal, two arches of the mossy bridge... but the far end of the bridge vanished in greyness, and of the buildings across the canal only a few vague lights remained. 

He heard a softsplash as their boat slowly swayed in the water of the canal. Andrew gave the lantern to Joy and knelt down to unwound the bindings of the boat. When he freed the boat he climbed onto it carefully. He got the latern back from Joy and hung it on the side of the boat. Andrew offered his hand to her and Joy took it with a smile. She climbed onto the boat gingerly using his hand for support. Andrew took the oars and pushed the boat away from the land.

The sounds of the oars splashing in the waters echoed hollowly off the swirling green waters and the walls of unseen buildings. It was easy to row a boat without his jacket on. His white shirt gave enough freedom and the cold was welcoming. It almost reminded him of the north, his home. He had always wished to go back there, to Winterfell. It was just as easy. All he wanted was to keep going in the north and he would be in the shores of it on his own. He wondered what it would be like if he ever reached Winterfell. He had known everyone in Winterfell and everyone had known and loved him in turn. They had always been good and kind to him perhaps they would still be good to him. They would not even remember you, a voice inside him said. You would've been buried in the crypts with your father and mother beside your grandfather and uncle. There were different paths before him but Andrew was not sure about which to take. Right now all he knew was to take Joy to the place as he had promised her to.