The crisp cool air bit at Rhaena's nose and cheeks as she lay her head back against the stiff board of the wagon, her small frame jostled with every knock and lurch it made over the uneven road they travelled. Occasionally the flaps of the wagon hood would flutter and she would be given glimpses to the outside world, where snow dusted forest and trees stood before the pale grey sky stretching beyond the imagination. At the touch of the North's sharp chill Rhaena pulled her cloak closer together, wishing to be warm and out of this cold. Having lived so long under the gleaming warmth of the sun, this cold and bitter world was entirely new, it was as wondrous as it was wild looking. Tension coiled within the girl's stomach, full of bundled nerves as she pushed her silver white hair back from her face, tugging it free before then redressing it to pass the time. Violet eyes glanced around the dusky and small wagon which held her, surrounded by travel supplies that had been packed in with her, as if she were nothing more than added cargo. It was not far from the truth, she thought ruefully. She was a mere object, a possession, something that only existed because of the grace of the king and every breath she took was a mercy from him. Sighing with a stretch, Rhaena was grateful for the thick wool of her clothes against the cold, feeling stiff and wanting nothing more than to get out and walk to try and warm herself through movement. My clothes are a mercy from him too. Rhaena murmured in her head, slim fingers buried within her sleeves. Rhaena had been under the king's watchful eye ever since her birth and, because of her house, had never been allowed to venture beyond the grand boundaries of the castle, so even despite the bone numbing cold, Rhaena had been delighted with the prospect of an adventure.

There was a great deal of history surrounding her lineage, tying her irrevocably with the king who now ruled and the man they had journeyed some months now in order to see. Her life belonged not to herself, but to her king, Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, who had taken the throne from her own father, Aegon the Mad. It had been a tempestuous time, according to the scholars and history books, full of war and bloodshed, but Rhaena had no memories of her own kin, or the battles which had been waged against her family. Having been born during a night of storms and raging seas, her mother, Rhaella, had given Rhaena in secret to a trusted wet nurse on Dragonstone mere moments after her birth, who had run from the castle with the intention of fleeing with the infant princess. It was suspected that the former queen had attempted to separate the twins for safety, but ultimately the plan ended in failure.

The captain who was meant to smuggle Rhaena aboard his ship had turned both her and the wet nurse over to the Baratheons, who had taken her from the woman's arms and held her as a hostage despite only being a squalling babe. When the war was over, it had been intended that Rhaena's life would be forfeit for simply carrying the blood of a Targaryen, however a man of the North, one of kindness and compassion, had spoken on Rhaena's behalf and persuaded his old friend to spare the innocent child's life and keep her as leverage against the Targaryens who had escaped. That man had been Eddard Stark. Rhaena felt an avid anticipation for the chance to finally meet her saviour from all those years ago, wanting nothing more than to see him for herself. Whenever his name had been spoken, there had always been a measure of respect entwined with the memory of his character, and Rhaena wondered greatly and at length about the man who was thought to be the most honourable men in the land. Especially in this land, one constantly bitten with frost and snow. In the vast grandness of this journey, Rhaena had been in almost constant awe of all around her, not wishing to lose a single moment of seeing the world beyond the walls of King's Landing. The North held a cold beauty, one that regaled Rhaena tirelessly.

Every moment spent away from the viper's nest of King's Landing was a moment spent in the greatest image of freedom Rhaena was ever to experience. Out here, she could almost forget about the long years of her life having spent among the shadows of that dangerous place, tucked away in some forgotten room where she had grown up believing that she was an abomination, a monster, waiting for her own mind to become a madness and insanity that would push her to break. Sometimes the loneliness was unbearable, knowing that she was truly alone in the world as both of her siblings, her twin sister and elder brother Viserys, were far away in foreign lands, always running for their lives in order to simply live until the next day. Such a distance caused a constant ache within Rhaena which dully throbbed with each pulse of her heart until it was like a constant anthem singing her sorrow. With a sudden jolt the waggon came to a halt, rousing Rhaena from her reverie and quickly looked about her, pale hand reaching to pull back one of the flaps to view outside. The wind caused the flap to peel back and flutter before she caught it, allowing a brief view of tall towers and dark stone walls before someone moved across her vision, making her let go and swiftly draw back. The rear end of the wagon was opened, the back panel dropping, and the flaps being pulled aside to allow the light to come flooding inside. Immediately Rhaena shivered against it, as the light was cold and unforgiving with the wind it brought inside with it, blinking until her violet eyes had adjusted to the stark whiteness of the snow which continued to fall from ashen skies. Before her stood a man whom Rhaena viewed as the only entirely trustworthy person of her acquaintance, one whom had allowed these later years to become more bearable over her long years of isolation in King's Landing. Ser Barristan Selmy. "Out you get, little dragon." The warmth of his smile was enough to melt away ice and snow, drawing Rhaena forwards and offering his hand to assist her down to the ground.

"It is so cold here." Rhaena murmured softly, gazing around her once more as the rest of the procession began to dismount from horses and carriages alike, preparing to meet the noble house of Stark. Her breath became a cloud of white against the cold air like steam or a dragon's breath, causing a short smile to briefly touch her pale features. Beside her Ser Barristan cast his eyes up towards the sheer white sky. This was certainly not King's Landing. In truth he would have remained behind were it not for the little dragon. As a prisoner to the king, Rhaena was ordered to be watched constantly to ensure she did not escape and had been shadowed from the moment she could walk. Ser Barristan had volunteered himself as her warden though in truth he saw himself more of a guardian. There were a great many threats to the king, but this little girl was not one of them. It was she who needed protecting from the king.

"It is always cold in the North, and it will become colder yet when winter comes. We had best move, little dragon, the king wishes for you to be present when he greets Lord Stark." Nodding her head in understanding, Rhaena allowed Ser Barristan to lead her forwards, always holding his arm out toward her so that any time her foot slipped upon ice, his arm was there for her to catch and grasp onto until she was steady once more. It appeared it would take some practice before she could walk confidently upon ice. Together they passed the servants who were already beginning to unpack the numerous chests and boxes which the royal procession had brought, moving horses aside so that knights and guards could pass freely. They continued their walk until finally the tall towers and dark stones of Winterfell overshadowed them, welcoming them both into the courtyard where the royal family had already met with the Starks, who all stood before the king as he faced the Lord of Winterfell. A beautiful auburn shade of hair caught Rhaena's eye, turning her attention to the young girl who stood between her brothers. For the briefest of moments, violet met against pale blue and a glimmer of intrigue passed between them, fascinated by one another and immediately Rhaena felt a warmth bloom within her at the sweet natured smile which the girl sent her way. A gentle hand placed itself against her back and guided her forwards, Ser Barristan urging Rhaena to not lose focus and to continue walking closer to where King Robert and Lord Stark stood facing one another. Rhaena looked towards where the queen stood, Cersei, her long golden hair bound back from her face and although worn from the travel, still appearing as ravishing and timelessly elegant as always. It was no secret that Cersei had no love for the Targaryen leech and as she observed the young silver haired girl approach the Starks, a vile contempt stirred in the pit of her stomach. There was something about that child which Cersei simply loathed.

Perhaps it was the yet untainted innocence she carried, unaware of all the poisoning realities of this harsh world. Perhaps it was the threat her blood held to her own children's claim to the throne. Perhaps it was simply because she was a beauty, and would remain a beauty after the prime of Cersei's image had faded. Whatever the reason was, Cersei was often an advocate for the Targaryen girl's death, but her opinions were yet to be heard and acted upon. She watched the girl now, her eyes darting and flitting like a nervous bird, gripping onto Ser Barristan as she was brought forwards. Holding her breath, Rhaena stood slightly behind Ser Barristan as she looked towards where the king stood, his large figure obscuring Lord Stark from her line of sight, catching no more than a slight glimpse of his refrain until finally, the king's booming voice echoed throughout the courtyard and made her jump. "Bring the girl forward." With a reassuring nod of his head, Ser Barristan placed his hand upon Rhaena's shoulder and led her into taking her first step towards the imposing men. The moment Robert stepped aside whilst twisting his head away from her. Robert could never bring himself to look upon the girl. Each time he did so, a boiling hatred took him over and it often ended with him throwing something at her head. Here, however, Robert did his best to keep his temper for his friend's sake since he wanted to meet the girl. As she moved closer, Rhaena lifted her eyes to look at the man who was the reason she was still breathing. The stern gaze of the aged soldier momentarily startled Rhaena, uncertain of how to respond until quickly recalling her manners. She curtseyed and bowed her head to both Lord and Lady Stark as the king gestured with a heavy hand towards her, still refusing to look upon her. "There. Satisfied Ned? I haven't killed the creature. She's still breathing yet." Robert grunted but Lord Stark continued to look at the child, who had seen seven and ten years but looked half that age for her height was not as it should be.

The girl was small and far too thin, almost gaunt with her skin stretched too far across her bones. She was no taller than Arya. Lord Stark's chest expanded with a heated anger to see the transparent neglect to the girl's needs but as the girl dared to look upwards, he caught sight of her bright eyes. They were a beautiful shade of purple, like blooming violets. Softening himself towards her, Eddard Stark stepped forwards and knelt so that they were upon a more equal level, resting an arm over his knee as he searched her features. "Hello little one." Dipping his head to the side with a kind smile, Rhaena felt her lips beginning to tilt upwards as she stood tall and erect, bearing the natural grace of a well-bred lady.

"Blessings of the Seven be upon you, Lord Stark, to you and all your house." Rhaena responded politely and with a tender tone, never once looking away from him as they both studied one another closely.

"You are welcome here in my halls. I am glad to see you well and grown." She was not well and grown. Quite the opposite, but Lord Stark could not say so directly in front of the king. Instead he smiled to her sincerely, holding their private contact for a brief moment more before then rising back up to his feet and returning his attention to the king. "Come, Your Grace, I shall walk with you to the crypts."

"About bloody time." Not hiding his irritation at having been made to wait, Lord Stark followed King Robert to the crypts in order to pay his respects to the dead. Or at least, to one person in particular. Rhaena knew of the king's love for the late sister of Lord Eddard Stark, and how the entire war between the Baratheons and the Targaryens was a result of her kidnapping. It was a sorrowful tale, and for a moment, Rhaena wondered if any story truly had a happy ending for although Robert and seized victory and claimed the throne, he had lost his love to death, and here more than fifteen years later, very few were left smiling. In fact, only the children seemed to have any degree of good cheer about them for they were completely innocent of any memory of such times, but perhaps their childlike joy only existed because their stories were yet to begin…and also yet to end.

"Your Grace, if you would follow me, I shall lead you to your rooms." Hearing the Lady Catelyn speak, Rhaena swiftly stepped aside and bowed her head as the queen glided past with her three children close behind her, all of them golden haired and as fair as she. They seemed eager to remove themselves from the cold grasp of the outdoors, leaving the rest of the travelling company to busy themselves with their own occupations. For a moment, Rhaena wondered what to do with herself. The Stark siblings had almost immediately broken off to go in different directions for their own purposes and Rhaena had not been left clear instructions concerning her place here. The only reason she was present was because the king did not wish for her to be alone in King's Landing out of his sight, fearing secret plots and such, but here she was not entirely a prisoner or a guest. So where was her place? Was it to be placed in a room and locked away only to be allowed free from it for a daily walk?

"Do not look so concerned, you have not been forgotten." Ser Barristan reassured her with a light chuckle, stepping to her side and immediately Rhaena felt much more at ease. With Ser Barristan she knew she could be calmer and more herself. He was one of the few people in the entirety of Westeros who had ever shown Rhaena any kindness throughout the years of her life. She trusted him, as much as she was able to trust anyone in that viper's nest. Ushered inside under Ser Barristan's direction into the warmer halls of Winterfell, Rhaena caught another glimpse of the children belonging to Eddard and Catelyn Stark. They had five in total as well as one illegitimate child born from an illicit affair of Lord Eddard during the years of the war. Ser Barristan had already explained everything necessary to Rhaena, so she at least knew the children by name as well as their circumstances.

Walking with a reserved air, some of the Stark children cast a look her way, observing how she drifted almost like the snowfall outside, white and pure and almost luminescent in her appearance yet strange, oh so strange. Bran and Arya wanted to go to her immediately and ask questions, enthralled by the arrival of such a strange and exotic creature, however the moment Arya attempted to rush forwards her brother Robb immediately clasped hold of her arm and restrained her. "No." He informed her shortly, keeping his voice low as Arya attempted to wriggle free from her brother.

"But I want to see the Targaryen girl!"

"She is a prisoner of the king and therefore not someone you can easily approach." He told his wildling of a sister sternly, keeping her back before nodding to Sansa, quietly telling her to see to the frost haired girl and take her to one of the guest rooms as their mother had previously instructed. Drawing herself up, Sansa did her best to look tall and mature as she approached the dragon girl who stood with her knight by the fire, her skin catching the glow and Sansa eagerly thought just how pretty she was, wishing desperately that she could look just as beautiful one day. She wondered at the girl's life having grown up in King's Landing and envied her for it, dreaming of bright summer days living in splendour and luxury, with the finest silk gowns and jewels, gossiping with other ladies whilst tasting the sweetest desserts and watching handsome knights joust in tourneys.

"Hello." Sansa said softly and Rhaena lifted her head, turning at the sound of a small voice that had come to greet them. Before her Rhaena saw the auburn haired girl from the courtyard, the eldest Stark girl. A sweet, blooming rose tucked away in the far north where winter seemed to hold sway even in the midst of summer. "My name is Sansa of House Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you. Would you like me to show you to your room?" Curling her mouth at the girl before her Rhaena delicately nodded before then drawing herself up to her full height, noting that this Sansa girl seemed rather tall for her age. Being of a small stature Rhaena had to look up in order to see the girl's face properly but was glad to find kindness there when she did. With a look to Ser Barristan to silently seek his permission to go, Rhaena then followed Sansa further into the castle of Winterfell where she observed the shadowy and rather gloomy corridors which sometimes sloped at odd angles. Having grown up in King's Landing with its large halls and airy walkways where sunlight flooded every crevasse it was somewhat unnerving at first to be in such a dismal place but with the tapestries, torches and closer air it felt…homely. After some consideration, Rhaena decided that she liked it better here than at King's Landing.

It was a beautiful stone home, rustic and grey yet the eeriness was of such difference to that of King's Landing it felt like walking through a dream. There were warm fires in almost every room, the windows gleaming with a bright light that scattered onto the floor as Rhaena walked, gazing out at the snow and the crystal like ice dripping from the rooftops whenever the view permitted her such a glimpse. Despite the coldness of the north it could not be felt once inside. Even the hallways were pleasantly heated and when Rhaena pressed her hand against a wall and felt the hot stone, she realised that there had to be pipes feeding hot water throughout the entire castle in order to maintain such a heat. This paired with the wintery landscapes laying beyond the windows made for a comforting and pleasant home for little lords and ladies to grow in. "You have a beautiful home." Rhaena commented to Sansa, the auburn haired girl looking to her with a fair lipped smile.

"It gets very cold sometimes, but when you've lived here all your life, you get used to it." She answered, though wondered how someone could think that her home that was always dark and bleak could be considered beautiful when there were other places in the world with far greater beauty than Winterfell. A gentle growl echoed slightly in the corridor which caused Rhaena's pulse to jump and halt slightly, feeling a surge of panic and alarm when a large wolf pup trotted into view, her coat neatly groomed and brushed but Rhaena immediately froze solid in place, staring in awe and a slight edge of fear as the creature ambled towards them. The breath almost caught in her throat as she spoke.

"Is that a direwolf?"

"Yes, this is Lady. She is mine." Sansa beamed rather proudly, kneeling to greet her companion and stroke her head with a fondness which Rhaena thought rather shocking. She had read of direwolves but never imagined to ever see such a creature in the flesh, nor to see a young lady petting one like it were nothing more than a well-tempered pup. "You may stroke her too if you like, she's very loving and doesn't bite." Sansa promised, fussing over the direwolf who had come looking for her mistress. Rhaena was hesitant at first, uncertain of the animal but seeing Lady sprawled over the ground on her back, enjoying the fuss and attention of Sansa, she reasoned that it did not seem wild or dangerous so stooped down and tickled Lady's fur, hesitant at first but after a few moments soon broke into a smile.

"She is very pretty."

"She's still young, direwolves are meant to grow much bigger." Sansa explained to her rather proudly and lovingly, letting Lady sit up again as the two girls rubbed her ears and neck. "I've trained her to behave and not chew things, but there is still more she needs to learn."

"You are lucky." Rhaena murmured, eyes softening as Lady swung her head around to her and seemed to look directly at Rhaena with an intelligent awareness that seemed to extend beyond the capability of an ordinary animal, much to her surprise. "I have always wanted a companion."

"Your house used to ride dragons. At least, that's what Old Nan told us. Your ancestors would tame them and ride them, but I do not think I could ever do such a thing. Lady is one thing but a dragon…it must have been extremely terrifying, don't you think?" Sansa asked as she stood, Lady moving to walk by her side. Giving a sidelong glance to the little lady of the Starks Rhaena was quickly discovering that this was a girl who liked to gossip and talk. She did not mind it; it was pleasant to enter conversation with someone close in age and of the same gender as her. If anything, it was rather refreshing, and Sansa's naturally bright tones were utterly charming.

"Yes, but this was a long time ago and dragons no longer exist. I neither know nor can imagine what it must have been like to ride upon the back of a flying, fire breathing nightmare." Rhaena sighed wistfully. "All I can say is that it must have been very cold for my ancestors, flying around in the clouds all the time. It is a wonder my house did not die off years ago from the common cold." Sansa smiled with a laugh at her in amusement and complete naïve innocence. Rhaena arched an eyebrow in thought, noting how young this child seemed to be despite all her airs and graces.

"We all have direwolves." Sansa continued to keep conversation flowing, unable to keep from constantly glancing at the Targaryen girl with her pale hair and wishing sorely she could have hair just like it. "My brother Rob's is called Grey Wind, Arya named hers Nymeria and my youngest brother Rickon called his direwolf and Shaggydog. Only Bran hasn't decided on a name for his wolf yet. He can't make up his mind." As fascinating as it was to learn of more direwolf pups, Rhaena because distracted by the odd name chosen by the youngest of the Stark children, blinking at Sansa questioningly.

"Shaggydog?" Rhaena said with an amused quirk of her brow. "That is a curious choice for a name."

"Yes, but he is only six. He doesn't really care about sensible names." Sansa shrugged delicately, every inch of her person that of a lady. She walked well, with a straight back and lifted head, her steps were light and elegant that seemed to endlessly flow like the sweep of her skirts. "My half-brother, Jon, named his direwolf Ghost." The girls continued to talk. Sansa mostly asking about King's Landing, the court, the queen and her children though most of her focus remained upon Joffrey as well as interrogating her about the fashions and finery that Rhaena saw every day. They talked for a great length of time in Rhaena's given room which was decently sized with a large bed, a fire already lit and earnestly warming the room as well as a vanity table for her to look at her reflection and prepare herself in the mornings. Rhaena talked with Sansa in order to ask her own questions about Winterfell and her own family, finding her becoming a fast friend. Lady kept them company, sitting by the fire whilst the girls talked and giggled in a manner Rhaena was not accustomed to. She enjoyed it thoroughly. "I hear Jaime Lannister is the best swordsman in all Seven Kingdoms, is that true?" Sansa whispered to her and Rhaena glanced around before leaning forwards in order to lower her voice.

"He is good with the sword, but I think he is arrogant. His skill is well known therefore his ego is not unfounded, but it does not win him many friends and his bloated pride will no doubt be his undoing one day. I think that Ser Barristan remains the greatest swordsman. He has never lost his fitness, despite his age." Rhaena told her honestly. "He is one of the best knights I know. A man with true honour and grace."

"Is Joffrey like a knight?" Sansa asked, her cheeks blushing prettily like the little maid that she was. Rhaena paused and a shadow flickered over her face, memories coming back to her of her childhood where Joffrey would scream for attention, pull on her hair and set fire to her dresses by dropping candles onto them just to see them burn. Worse was when he would order one of the guards or knights to hold Rhaena still whilst he poured hot wax over her arm and watch it solidify even as she had cried. Eventually Rhaena had learned to stop crying and soon enough she no longer even felt the pain which meant Joffrey then lost interest. This did not stop him from seeking out other forms of torment, however. He was a horror as a child, and he was no better now. If anything, he was worse for now he understood the power he was born to and having never been chastised or disciplined by his overindulging mother he had become a spoilt, cruel little boy who had become nothing more than a terror. These next words, Rhaena chose carefully and purposefully, for never did she know who was listening at keyholes or seemingly from within the very walls themselves.

"He is not a knight, Lady Sansa, he is a prince. A prince may act as he wishes, and Prince Joffrey is no exception. A prince does not learn the values of a knight, but how to be a king, however these values…do not always meet expectation and are not always the same. Be wary, Lady Sansa. Joffrey is a dangerous person to be close to." Rhaena whispered this directly into Sansa's ear though kept her words as vague as possible so that she would not be incriminated should by some wonder they were overheard or Sansa unwittingly repeated them to the wrong person. Rhaena had grown up in the Queen's court and knew that even this far north, there would be birds whispering in the queen's ear of every move she made. Even so far away from King's Landing, the game must still be played.