WELCOMING A STRANGER

Rhaegar stepped out from the iron elevator, wounding himself around tight with his gloved hands, landing his boots onto the thick layer of ice. His jaw dropped to stand at the top of the world and gawk at the horizon of endless snow, while thick heavy cold breeze knocked his body. It felt like living an old dream. He didn't expect this... to feel awed as well as aghast...

"Marvellous... Isn't it?" Mance questioned.

Even though Rhaegar came under the disguise of a soldier sent by the King, to give arms and armours to the Night's Watch, five days before to Castle Black, he was indeed wary of men figuring out his identity. One such man who made him more considerate was Mance Rayder.

"Indeed... The Wall... is such a terrifying beauty. Were these raised only to keep out the wildlings?"

"Free Folks..." Mance said in a tone of correction. "They don't like to be called as Wildlings. Such a derogation for freedom." The broad-chested man's eyes bristled in contempt. "And no... There are worse things than humans out there."

"Free Folks?... A wise name to be lauded on for men who fight and gut each other without any laws or rules to adhere to." Rhaegar replied, staring down from the edge. The tremendous height with which the wall was raised gave goose prickles to his skin.

"Tell me, Ser-?" Mance paused.

"Duncan... Ser Duncan..."

"Aye... Tell me, Ser Duncan... If you were given a choice to die in freedom or live in chains, which one would you prefer?" Rhaegar offered no answer for a long time, but measured the brown-haired man who had distinct opinions from what the rest of his brothers shared and somehow those opinions started to rub him.

"Your opinion of freedom means lack of leadership and mine means offering protection." He answered.

Mance laughed, patting Rhaegar's shoulder. "How about we go for a hunting, later? You could use some move to make sure your balls doesn't freeze off and also see if you could really offer protection these wildlings."

Damn it... The man had figured out. Rhaegar gave a simple nod and realized his balls were actually getting frozen. The cold was neither accommodating nor accepting him. Dragon blood was made for fire not for ice and the thought that his Grand uncle Maester Aemon had stayed most of his life in this waste cold lands, gave chills to his soul.

A dragon is a dragon, old or not.

Once the lift lowered, Rhaegar went to meet Richard in the Common Hall, who was supping in a corner, far away from the crows.

"Hot stew! Couldn't be better for this cold..." He took a seat next to Richard who stared at the men in black clothes with wide eyes. "Do you think, you can manage to go for a ride, later?" Rhaegar questioned.

"These bloody lands and these bloody bawdy men... There is no reason why someone would want to serve in this place. This is a true punishment, your grace."

"Richard..." Rhaegar coughed, choking on his stew, and rolled his eyes everywhere to take notice if anyone actually listened to their conversation. "What did I tell about you calling my name?"

"Ser Duncan...?" Richard pondered. "Oh... Sorry, your grace. I completely-"

"Don't make me regret of bringing you, Richard... One more time you repeat, then I will leave you in the middle of that haunted forest and hand over you to the free folks." He yelled without causing much noise.

"I am sorry, Ser... That name doesn't suit you, neither is this place. Look at these fools... What are they actually thinking to protect the realm from? Grumkins?..."

"Do you respect the white cloaks of Kingsguard?" He asked, picking up the cooked turnips in the stew with a spoon.

"Of course, Ser. One day, after I earn my spurs, I will strive hard to become one of the Seven in Ser's Royal guard. Protecting you and your family, till I leave my breath." Richard's wide brown eyes were full of pride and valour. The boy should be knighted sooner.

"That is so admirable, Richard. I will also strive hard to be a man worthy of protecting. But, do you know the history of how they were formed, by Aegon the Dragon?" Richard shook his head. "Queen Visenya formed it after observing and learning the oaths and honour of these crows. She wanted such an elite force to protect the King, same as these great men clad in black cloaks, who gave up everything in their life, for the safety of the realm. All men have to serve... especially the one in black. The night's watch was a great order, before. Manned with nineteen castles between Eastwatch by Sea to Shadow Tower, unlike now."

"But what are they fighting against? There is no war or battle, to get glory... Its mere raids to ridiculous lands, fighting off the wildlings-"

"Free folks..." Rhaegar corrected his squire with a twitch in his lips. Mance had really gotten under his skin. There was something so strong about that man that Rhaegar was instantly afflicted to lean towards his words. "How about we see what lays beyond, today?"

Giving words of encouragement to his squire, Rhaegar wandered to the library, seeking to spend the rest of his time with Maester Aemon. The castle itself was in no modest state. His first order after he ascends would be to send enough men to rectify this problem. Once the old books' scent invited him, he leaned on the closed door, staring at his own blood in admiration.

"This is the one I have been searching for..." Maester Aemon waved a missive in his hand, towards Rhaegar. "Come... Read it. I have been meaning to send you this... had you not arrived."

Glancing the contents of the strange old letter, he felt his head spin in more and more confusion. "What do they even mean? Do these words hold any truth?"

"My brother, Egg, searched for the same truth, when I told him. But we both know what havoc searching for those truths unleashed on our family." Maester Aemon said with a quivering voice, staring at the hearth with his blind eyes. "I gave up my crown for my brother, Rhaegar. Now, everyone I knew and once loved, are lost."

Rhaegar flinched at the mention of the tragedy in Summerhall. "You have me... and my mother, even my little brother... There is a family for you, uncle. I want you... I need you to be with us. We are the last of the..." Rhaegar paused.

"Dragons..." Maester Aemon gave a toothless smile. "Egg and I, owned beautiful dragon eggs, once. We used to pretend they will come to life and we will ride them when we grow up. I assume it all went to dust in that fire. Now, I am grown up, Ser. Old and weak... I won't be riding any dragons or guiding any dragons. And you need a trusted man here, at the Wall. Don't you?"

Rhaegar wanted to scream at this old man for rejecting his offer. He felt even more alone than before. With a mad, moronic father who was torturing the realm and his mother, how was he supposed to do the right thing, alone?

"This is too hard on me..." He said with gritted teeth, crushing the letter in hand. "I feel the weight of duty crushing on my shoulder that I might break. How do you do the right thing when there are enemies on all the sides? The Lannisters, the Starks, the Baratheons, this thing in the North and my royal sire. How am I supposed to make the right move? You should be there with me... Help me... Please... Like all the hands for all the good Kings before us. My father is frying hands like flies... Or... Tell me, what to do." He screamed with a shivering voice, staring at the old man who had no guilt in not taking any responsibilities and staying far away from the crown.

"Rhaegar... Do you think all the Kings sat on that throne of blades with only courage and bravery as their armour? There were good men who became bad Kings, and bad men who became good Kings. What will you be, Rhaegar? Who will you choose to be?" With only the sound of twigs splitting by the hearth, a long silence prevailed between them. "You are young, inexperienced. Men will test you for your worth. They will test you for your father's worth and all the dragons before him. Your hands will be bloody. Are you going to cower or face it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice. A short rule, with glory or a long rule with burden. A crown is always going to be a burden, my Prince."

"Prince!" The title roused a bile from his throat. "You said I am the Prince who was promised... There should be no reason for me to worry." Rhaegar said with no confidence of what he deduced to be the truth. If his heart sternly believed as before, he wouldn't be this scared. "But the star bled, at another time in King's Landing... Perhaps, it is not me... What am I missing? And this letter about the return of dragons... Are they even true?"

Maester Aemon chuckled. "All my brothers believed in bringing the dragons back and all went to their early grave. We know only half of all those prophecies, Rhaegar. Choose your battle to bring prosperity to these people. No matter how hard the decision will be. Choose for the greater good..."

"The greater good..." Rhaegar repeated the same words that he used in his letter to Allara and nodded his head. "I plan to leave on the morrow..."

"To King's Landing?..."

"To Winterfell... I need to find this girl..." Rhaegar pursed his lips and stared at the Maester's purple eyes, which stared at nothingness. "She shares my dream." He sighed, leaning back. "Literal dreams... I don't know what these signs mean, nor do I completely understand the game of this man, from beyond this wall. But she shares my dream, uncle."

"A maid?" Aemon chuckled and his orbs went to the ceiling. "Once, even I fell in love with a maid, in the flower lands. I promised to take her hand after I forged the chain. She had flowers all over her braids and had a fragrance of honey. Even her memory is sweet, that it pains my heart now."

"This is not the same... She has something for me to seek. Nothing more. I am a married man." Rhaegar resolutely declared, but a mocking laugh erupted from the Maester.

"In all the years, that we spoke about prophecies and dangerous creature from North, you never visited me once. I thought I will die alone without a touch of dragon near me. Now, that you grace your presence to this old man with no eyes, do you really want to fool my heart, Rhaegar?"

Rhaegar shook his head in denial, but Richard started shouting from outside.

"Ser Duncan... Shall we leave for the raid? Mance asked me to call you."

Pressing his hand against his great-grand uncle's shoulder, Rhaegar took his leave to scurry with the free-folk advisor.

"Kill the boy..." Maester Aemon advised as Rhaegar crossed the door. "I said Egg the same. Kill the boy and let the man be born..."


The tunnel ride gave stutters to even Rhaegar, who was faring far better than his squire. He never knew the pain of cold, as he was feeling now. The dreams had mercy than what he was feeling now, beneath the cloaks. Squire Dalbridge, Mance, Richard and Rhaegar proceeded their ride towards the haunted forest, which had intertwined branches hugging each other, giving no way for light to penetrate.

There was no game for them to hunt, and Rhaegar suspected something odd about the augural calmness in the forest. Even the black brothers who were fine rangers had difficulty in deciding to proceed further.

"Do these forests have any living thing at all? Or only ghosts and demons reside here as the name suggests?" Rhaegar questioned.

"This was where the First men lived, once and I am sure their ghosts are guarding..." Mance answered, swinging down from his tall red stallion.

Chilling breeze burning his pale chin, Rhaegar quietly observed the men before him, who were tying up their horses. Following their silent cue, he did the same and asked his squire Richard to follow too. This was not normal... something more abnormal for even not a bird to chirp at this fine hour. And the wind was cold... chilling his heart.

"Does your squire know to use his sword?" Dalbridge questioned unsheathing his long rusted sword from his scabbard. Rhaegar acknowledged, and they both did the same, sensing the oddness of the surrounding. Rhaegar closed his eyes to focus and hear any shake of air around him.

One moment there was no noise, but the very next, there were war cries as seven men surrounded them with axes and long swords in hand, in their stolen garments, circling and screaming, jumping down from tall trees. Dalbridge was the first to raise his weapon against a man, who seemed half a giant himself, but his blade was blocked by Mance, and the steel was slowly kissing Dalbridge's throat.

"I am so sorry, brother. But, this matter is between me and the Prince. If you promise to lay down your sword, I will not harm you and let you go back to the Wall, unharmed." Mance said in a huffing tone. Rhaegar remained calm, his brows creased, unwilling to tell something wrong at that moment. "RattleShirt! Have you ever seen a game falling straight to your hand? Watch now... This is the Prince of DragonStone, my present to all your clans." Mance said with a wicked grin.

"And what do we do with this pretty Prince of yours? I say, we take his head and send to the Wall. Let your crow brother, Qorgyle, decorate his chamber..." The man named Rattleshirt laughed, swinging his long spear towards Rhaegar.

Before Richard or Dalbridge moved, Rhaegar's legs took position and for the first time, he felt the weight of a sword in hand, unnerving and thrilling at the same time. The man was huge, and his shirt was rattling with bones singing a song. Rhaegar loved songs. Soon, the song of steel against steel started to whisper in the cold wind, and the Prince tried his best to not give grave wound to the rattle shirt. He wanted them to be alive. He needed them alive. Rhaegar might not have been the strongest amongst the men in the realm, but he was trained by Ser Willem Darry, day and night, knighted by the greatest sword, Ser Arthur Dayne. He knew how to swing a sword. He was no Maegor, but he wasn't Aenys either. Giving a final slit by the leg, the tall bearded man rolled over in the snow with a loud scream.

What Rhaegar was unprepared to see was the rest of the six men lunging towards him. They weren't knights, and they knew no honor. His heart thudded against his ribs and all he could think was Rhaenys, when a strong broad chested man swung his axe. He took a few steps behind, but the battle was about to be over... until Mance interrupted the rest of the men.

"Good with a sword... Are we?" Mance asked. "Tell me my Prince... What you want from me... Clearly, you seem to know my intentions. And I was a fool to think you as a stupid green boy."

Dalbridge was screaming. "Is it true? Are you Rhaegar Targaryen? Tell me, Ser..."

Rhaegar took a moment to apprehend, but he didn't feel at ease. Something was still wrong. "I can smell the dead... I have smelled it before."

Dalbridge and Richard found his answer odd, but Rattleshirt, who was clinging to his bleeding leg, glanced at Mance with a fright in his eyes. "We should leave now... He seems right about it. Where are the three scouts of yours?"

"They didn't return..." A woman answered with a spear still pointing at Rhaegar. He broke the lance that was pointed at him in a single swing, and pierced his sword into the heart of a man behind the woman, whose eyes were blue as ice. The blue-eyed man screeched, but his strength hadn't left and neither did his heart bleed. In chaos, many splattered, leaving only Mance, Rattleshirt, Dalbridge and Richard to the dead man. It was Dalbridge who swung a sword to cut the dead man's head, but the dead hands were still moving, swinging the sword. Finally, Mance took a pale glass and pierced it to the heart of the dead man, and the struggle ended.

"What the fuck is that?" Richard questioned.

"The dead..." Rhaegar answered unable to believe his own eyes. "And it doesn't die for steel... Only for obsidian..." His eyes wandered to what Mance was holding in his hand. "We need to speak about this..."

"Not here... There were three scouts. Now, only one seemed to find his way back. They are more than just dead..." Mance said and guided them to somewhere far, and Dalbridge was boiling inside.

"We swore oaths, Mance... You are an oath-breaker making pacts with the wildlings... And... Prince... I cannot believe you would risk coming like this. Do you know, I served as a squire to your grandsire. He would be wroth to know, you did such a folly, if he were alive."

Upon reaching the spot where there were nine heart trees facing each other, Rhaegar held Dalbridge's shoulder with a sigh. "Are you not more troubled to see the dead, Ser? How am I supposed to learn to rule, if I don't see what is happening in my lands?"

"These aren't your lands..." Rattleshirt seethed, tying a heavy cloth around his calf. "Your dragon King didn't claim rights to these lands. He was clever not to do so, else, we would have sent him home long before."

"I agree... But, whatever is happening here will not end here. You need the help from my realm..."

"And you need ours..." Mance interrupted. "Do you think there is only one dead man roaming here? There are tens and thousands of half dead monsters thirsty for blood, and the only thing that stops them is this dagger. You haven't seen the pale monsters... They are plotting in the land of forever winter..."

"And what is your plan, Mance Rayder? To join your free folks and kill every dead man you come upon? What is your plan to kill the pale monsters?" When Mance had no answers, Rhaegar filled in the distance. "You need me as much as I need you. If we are going to survive this..."

"We don't kneel... We will die with an axe in our hand." Rattleshirt rattled.

"Then you all will die. You came with six men upon you. The plan was brilliant, but I see only two remain out of six, and one bleeding to death. Is this your wise plan for gaining freedom?..." Rhaegar screamed with his dark eyes dancing in madness. Mance unsheathed his sword, and Rhaegar didn't wait for him to finish, as his hand swung to place his steel on Mance's neck. "Don't presume I will let go every single time. I should be carving your heart out for being an oath-breaker."

Mance laughed. "Yet, I find you making a deal with me. Why is that?"

"Because, I value life... and you seem to value the same too. Do what you are doing. Bind the living under your name, you can have your banner too, but bend your knee to me and we will together to fight for the living."

Rattleshirt sighed. "And what is your plan, pretty prince? Send your northern men to fight for us. They will rather gut us than protect us."

"No... The wall has magic, and when the time comes, I will let you cross the wall. When everything is said and done, you can go back to your lands. But the laws of my lands will apply where you live too. I will not tolerate this barbaric way of life."

There were a lot of arguments between him and Rattleshirt, who kept calling Rhaegar a pretty man. As insulting it was, Rhaegar understood the rustic, barbaric looks of the northerners which aided them to mock his appearance.

At last, Mance screamed. "You came knowing I was going to ambush you. I appreciate the meat in you. But, you have nothing that we don't have to fight against the dead men."

"I have a mountain of dragon-glass that you hold in your hand, in DragonStone. And soon... something better."

"What?..."

"Fire..." Rhaegar noticed the change in Mance's face, hearing his suggestion. Five days of spending time with him, there was a subtle trust blooming on his friend's face. "Trust me, Rayder... Swear your oaths to me before your Gods and I will forgive your previous sins of oath-breaking. Or fight and die now." He declared in his iron strong voice.

"Men are dying like flies... Children are walking with their guts out. These people took me in, when I was about to die by a Shadowcat and nursed me back alive. Aye... I want them to live... at whatever cost it will be. But, if you fail bringing your source of fire, then there is no point in swearing my oath."

Rhaegar regarded that this was the limit he could extract loyalty from a man like Mance. The Prince hadn't shown any promise to make them trust him either. He agreed. "Fine... Fire for loyalty..."

"Before the old Gods, I will swear my oath of fealty to you, if you will save the people of my land."


"Did you plan to leave without even telling me, Ned?"

Her sweet brother gawked at the hot pool, staring at his own reflection of the infamous Stark long face. He was almost adamantly refusing to speak with her ever since his arrival from Vale.

"This is all my mistake. Aly... I am really sorry."

"What are you sorry about?" She chided with a smile and sat on a rock lower to him, placing her hand on his legs. Her eyes wandered to the edge of the pool, and she wondered how the eggs were faring. "I heard you and Brandon had a fight. Is that why you are leaving early?"

Ned twirled a red leaf between his fingers. "He was right to fight with me. Only I would have preferred if he hadn't used so many crass words on his own brother."

"Forget him... He already took his horse to ride to Rills. You are over seventeen. Do you still need to go for fostering? Or did you fall in love with a Royce girl there?" She teased, leaning her head against his legs, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"No... No time to run behind a girl, when I am surrounded by boys all the time. But, I have to speak with Robert... Father sent a letter to him, before informing me and..." He paused and Allara could sense the guilt emitting from his gray eyes. "Believe me, sister... I didn't have any part in deciding this match. And moreover, I said Robert about you a lot... than Lya. When I heard Jaime has decided to take the white cloak... you don't know how happy I was to offer your hand to Robert."

Allara gave an uneasy smile. "Ned... Don't worry about me. I expected father would do such a thing, after how I spoilt my relationship with him. But I am glad I did so... He now gave me a choice to choose someone I like." Her brother gave her a concerned look in response.

"You do remember that you have two big brothers, right? There is no way we are going to let you choose a hedge knight. I might... but Brandon will not. He promised father that he will duel any man who comes to ask for your hand."

"Brandon is a fool." Allara said, raising up to clear the dust out of her knee-length dress that she wore for going out with her little brother. "And if you need someone to worry about... then it should be Lya. She doesn't like your friend."

"Robert is... more like my brother. Why doesn't she see it?"

"Robert is just like your brother." She reflected realizing how much Robert resembled Brandon, even with respect to women. No wonder her brother got attached to that Storm Lord. "She is too young, Ned, and hadn't even flowered, yet... She has her own dreams. Give her some time. Perhaps, once she gets to know Robert, she might like him. They still have a lot of years to get to know each other, right?" Allara knew her sister would definitely give the toughest time, but if she loved, she did it fiercely.

They spoke about all silly things that they missed exchanging, which involved her explanation to him of how she lost all her coins to Lya and how she in fact started earning those coins, in the first place. Just when she was about to spill the truth about her secret comrade and the eggs, they were close the stable. She controlled her tongue when Benjen dragged the reins of his horse in excitement to go for a hunt.

Once Ned left with his men, Allara rode with Benjen to the woods with DarkWing, and continuously contemplated about her marriage. It felt like she was having everything, yet nothing. How was she supposed to make use of the dragon eggs? And the dreams...

Initially, she wanted to sell it for a good price to that jeweller in Wintertown and get nice gold to go somewhere far and live on her own, hiring sellswords for service. But the dragon dreams were haunting her day by day, for her to ignore the knowledge of its return. When she tried to send a letter to her secret comrade, the Maester informed that he could not be communicated.

There were so many tunnels open, but she couldn't find which had light shedding from. She almost forgot trailing for the game when Benjen tucked her knee-length green gown that was meant for riding, with breeches to cover her legs.

"Buck..." He whispered, and she noticed that pretty dotted animal, which they were about to butcher in exchange for a few coins. Just when Ben was pulling the string in his bow, Allara nudged his hand to stop. "What happened?" He asked.

"Let us spare the animals today, brother. Shall we?"

His face fell so low, like she stole some precious gem from his hand. "But you lost all your coins to Lya. And we should start earning more if we plan on buying your pendent." He argued earnestly in an attempt to somehow satisfy his crave to hunt the animal.

"Perhaps, I don't need that pendant as I did before. And..." Allara desperately wished to spill the truth to her little brother, atleast. He wouldn't cause any harm, and he always kept his word. To someone she should tell, else her head would burst. "I have another source for coins..."

Benjen sternly listened to what she was about to say. And just then, they heard chaotic noises emerging out from the bush. When they looked in front, the buck that was alive before laid dead, killed by someone else's arrow. Immediately, they both hid behind a tree, to avoid getting caught by her father's men. Her father didn't know about this adventure of theirs, and she didn't want it to be known, either.

"Whoa!" A boy cried in excitement. "Look how big the buck is, Ser... We are not going to be hungry for another week, I say."

"Hmmm... The cold preserves." This was a man's voice, and he was ending the animal's pain. These were poachers, and she stared at Benjen, who was already praying to the Old Gods while slowly unsheathing his sword. She had to roll her eyes, unable to believe her little brother was ready to fight off two grown men who were poachers. Benjen was merely a twelve-year-old boy, but she shouldn't stop him either. She closed her eyelids and went beneath DarkWing. Moving silently between the bushes, staring at the glimpses of two men, who were keen on skinning the dead buck, Allara decided to let her brother take a chance. Else, they might be attacked by those men.

"Go, now..." She told Benjen, and prepared her longbow to aim at the tall man's back, while Benjen placed his sword to the back of the boy.

"Don't move..." Her brother bellowed out an order. "Tell us how many accompanied you..." His voice was shaking in fear, to hold blade against real men over practice strawman or noble knights in the courtyard, and she herself started doubting her judgement of leaping on attacking some wayward men.

"Do you think you can best us boy? Run away..." The boy with brown hair mocked trying to turn back to see them.

Both the men's hands went to touch the hilt of their sword, and they were armed... and was clad in mail chains. They were no normal poachers...

"Don't move your hand. Keep it where we can see..." She ordered, but the boy chuckled in arrogance. He didn't care for her warning, as his hand easily slid to his side to unsheathe his sword. "DarkWing..."

Hearing her voice, her wolf came out of the large bush in front of them, and Allara's breath came back in one piece of holding something powerful against the two grown men, when her loyal companion rose gigantically with snarling teeth and blood-red eyes.

"Fuck..." The boy muttered and fell back with his hand shivering, seeing a direwolf for the first time, and she couldn't stop the smile that started spreading on her face when he kicked his leg in mud to slide behind. "What in the seven hells..." He sounded like he was about to piss. They should be some southeron. Their accent was nowhere from North. Although she never planned on attacking them, the sight of fright was powerful to behold, until... the man with black hair showed no sign of fear as he rose from the ground.

DarkWing growled with baring its huge canine teeth at the man, and she expected the man to budge and bend down, so there wouldn't be any blood spilled. Even she was not sure how much of wolf instinct could be controlled from her wolf's body. Slowly, the tall man approached closer to her wolf, and her wolf leaned forward to take a stance of attack. Understanding it, the man bent his head too, slowly raising his hand in air.

"Ser... No... Don't go close..." The boy addressed the knight in black.

The man's insolence was overbearing to her, but she wanted to know what he was trying to do.

"Calm down, Richard..." The knight's smooth voice calmed even her, before he lifted his hand towards her wolf.

"I will not be responsible if you lose your arm." She warned, and he gave a chuckle in response before giving feather light touches to her wolf's face, dragging his long fingers all the way to its fur behind and into her wolf's body. For a moment, with the way her wolf snapped, she thought he deserved to lose an arm for being stupid enough to put his hand into a direwolf's mouth.

But slowly her wolf became calm and leaned into his touches with a whine. Even her little brother was shocked.

"I am sure the lady and her wolf are not the ones to harm us, Richard." The knight said with a laugh, brushing the black furs in smooth circles.

What if he was a warg who was trying to claim her direwolf?

"Is this how you welcome your comrade, Lady Grey? With a crossbow on my back and a direwolf to my front to maul me?" He asked.

"Lord Black?" She asked in an out worldly disbelief, and her legs moved on its accord to stand in front to see his face. Was this all happening for real?

He was covered in black woollen clothes, and an armour beneath. She expected him to be a middle aged man of bald head and fat belly. But he was such a disappointment... in a surprisingly good way. With dark black eyes, which was obviously too odd to be matched with his dark hair and his charming face, he was every bit a good-looking southern young man and she refused to believe he actually sent her missives about dragons, potions, magic and bald eagle quill of King Jaehaerys's from Oldtown.

He was gawking at her too, with a slightly opened lip. His eyes were on her mismatched pairs, and she was sure he would have found it ghastly... or different. She couldn't figure what was his feeling, and suddenly her consciousness peeked in to think about how she appeared before him.

"It is my greatest fortune to put a face for your name, Lady Grey..." He said and took her hand to place a soft kiss on her knuckle. Everything and everyone around her was disappearing, and she wanted to fall into his dark orbs and never rise back. It felt so familiar... like she had known him for a long time. And the fire which spread through his thumb which was rubbing her knuckles gave a comfort to lay down all the burden.

What is happening to me? Think straight, Allara... Don't be that same stupid girl...

She instantly pulled back her hand and glowered at him. "You were supposed to remain secret... That is the point of being a secret comrade. How the fuck did you get to know my identity?"

"Ah... So crass, my lady." He squeezed his eyes and crossed his hand to his heart for getting wounded by her words. "I would have thought you will welcome me with an open arm."

She bit her lip not to let her cheeks get flushed.

"Holy fuck!" The boy next to them grinned, and even her secret comrade turned away in embarrassment, realizing what he said.

"Do you know them both, sister?" Benjen questioned, and she wanted to bury her head into sand instead of explaining about her stupid endeavor to her little brother.

"I... They... Yes, brother, I know this man..." She blinked a few times before staring at them both. "What are your names? Real names?"

"I am Richard, my lady and this is... Ser Duncan."

Her wolf was snarling and snapping, staring at something behind. Just when she turned to her side, the knight locked his arm around hers and pulled her back. It was not early enough, when an axe swung by her stomach and cut open her side a little. With a furious face, he swung his sword through her side and killed a wildling whose axe kissed her stomach.

There were five men in rugged clothes with axes in hand, screaming and lunging at them. She heard the sound of swords drawn from the scabbard, before she fell on her knees holding to her side, where the blood started oozing out.

She saw even Benjen fighting against a wildling boy, and she wanted to slip beneath the wolf's skin, until she found her brother plunging his sword inside that fat boy's guts.

"Allara..." The knight called, holding her in his arms, which had been splattered with blood. She tried so hard to not slip away into her wolf. It felt the right thing to do, but she blinked away the tears, and tore the side of her dress to see the damage. "Its fine... You are fine. It is a small wound. Look at me, Allara..." He patted her cheeks and she could see he was more frantic than herself. "You will be fine... Let me take you to your castle."

"Castle? No... My father will hang me for all my crimes. And both my brothers are not there to stop it... It is not deep, and I can manage. I just need to find a needle to stitch this wound." She said more to herself, and searched for Benjen, whose eyes were resting on the dead boy he had just killed. She tried to raise on her foot, and before failing helplessly, the knight in question lifted her in his arms, carrying her to his black warhorse.

The rest of the ride was blank... and she felt all that happened was just a dream, and when she woke up, it would all fade away. But, with a stinging pain to her side, when she flicked her lashes, she found a pair of black orbs staring at her.

"So, Ser Duncan... Have you come all the way from Oldtown to rescue me from wildlings?" She tried to tease, and he shook his head with a grin and knelt by her side.

"Are you the fair maid waiting to be rescued by a knight, my lady?"

They both smiled and she couldn't stop thinking if he would be her hedge-knight, but when the chamber looked so unfamiliar, she jumped to her feet and covered her exposed tummy with her bare hands, before observing her gallant knight's eyes pierce on her bare navel. Her breeches remained intact and her dress was pushed above till her upper stomach. But without a maester in an inn...

"Tell me, you didn't stitch my wound."

"I remember you asking me not to send you to your castle." He said as a matter-of-factly. "Someone has to stitch that up. And I seemed to have done a good work. If you jump like that, I don't think it will hold well."

She was abashed to know he felt nothing for touching her.

What am I thinking? Why should he feel something? Just leave from here, Allara. Just leave...

He offered a thick cloak to cover her modesty, before tracing her stitch on the side of her navel with a pure sense of examination.

"This is my perfect art. I was never good at doing this." He said in excitement and even with all the pain, she could feel her heart beat against her rib cages, feeling his warmth spreading from his long fingers by her navel. She lowered the wound up dress from her chest and when it fell below, he instantly pulled back his hand in panic. "That was improper. I am so sorry. I was just..."

She didn't know how to respond or should she even respond, but the prospect of being close with him was drawing her like a moth to fire and she knew in her heart something was wrong with all of this. Nothing came to her that easily. She needed more answers from him, but before she could question, Benjen barged in the door with his blood matted shirt and messy hair.

"Aly..." He hugged her tight around her waist. "I was so scared... I am sorry. I don't know how it happened... I just.." He sobbed like a frightened child and she listened to everything he had to tell. Once she calmed him, she pulled back the cloak on her head to leave, until the knight held her hand.

"Take care..." He whispered.

"We should meet, another time." She said, and he nodded with a sad smile. She hadn't seen such heavy eyes on anyone before.


Yayyy... They finally met and I am dreading for your views on this chapter.

Natalie: I was happy reading your comment. Lyanna... Haha... Totally selfish in her own rights. Yeah, we can safely tell, Rickard stands in queue to get the bad parent award next to Tywin and I ll explain the reasons later. Hope... I dreadfully hope, you liked this chapter of Rhaegar and Allara meeting. That girl needs all love.

MillieBelle: Haha... I will try to do that.

Hercules: Thanks a lot. The letters was one of my favourite writing. Thanks for noticing. Brandon will not allow that easily for her get married to any random man and Rickard was just an arse. As for Rhaegar not scolding Cersei, he didn't clearly understand her motives and mostly he doesn't care about her. And gods no... she won't sit on eggs to hatch it. lol...