Beautiful.
Rhaena stared at the world around her and could see nothing but beauty. Crisp and clean, unspoiled and untouched. Even if armies of thousands, hundreds of thousands, were to cross this vast expanse of white, the surface would remain unblemished. In certain lights the snow took on different colours, glistening like a sea of crystals as Rhaena continued to smile and gaze wistfully at it all. Tormund came to stop beside her, reading her face before looking at the view alongside her. "Magnificent, isn't it?"
"I have rarely seen such equal." Rhaena agreed softly, not wishing to raise her voice too loud and disturb the enchantment that surrounded her. "You grew up here?"
"Somewhere much like it. You live in the true north, it's all just ice and snow and rocks. Only when you've lived all your life here do you truly get to know her." Rhaena's smile deepened, glancing to Tormund before exhaling, the white cloud of her breath rising upwards. Whilst the others remained bundled in their furs, thick coats and cloaks, Rhaena dressed lightly. Her movements were not slowed by thick clothing, and without feeling the cold, she could truly appreciate the splendour and purity around her. Even the air tasted clearer, filling her lungs with icy breaths which only seemed to rejuvenate her further. If ever Rhaena wished to one day escape the world as she knew it and leave everything behind, she decided that this would be the place she would come to. One could quite easily lose themselves here, and if one did not wish to be found then the only way was to become truly lost. Rhaena could wander the icy tundra all the way to the Frozen Shore and not tire of such a sight. "Come, best keep moving. Don't want to be left behind. Easy pickings for predators." Tormund warned her so Rhaena forced herself to turn aside and accepted his hand to help her climb up a steep ascent, endeavouring to keep pace with the others.
Jon fussed over her the most, constantly looking to her over his shoulder if she was not directly at his side, fearing that she might suddenly lose the protection of her magic or slip upon loose snow and take a fall. He wished she had listened to him and remained with Ser Davos at Eastwatch, but Rhaena was obstinate and refused to stay behind. Tormund had laughed and suggested that Rhaena had the heart of a wildling before reasoning that if the woman wanted to come, Jon had no right to refuse her simply because she was female. She was just as capable as the rest of them, and perhaps more vital for she could create flames from nothing as well as pass her internal heat to others. When freezing to death was just as likely as being killed by a wight, Jon once again silenced his protests as logic overwon his desire to keep Rhaena safe. She was their best chance at survival. All he could do was protect her at all costs. When she was not walking beside him, she was with Tormund listening to his stories and songs, smiling and laughing which was often the only pleasant sound the party would hear for hours at a time. If not Tormund, then occasionally Rhaena would walk along Ser Jorah, who had a comforting presence about him and Rhaena enjoyed listening to him speak of whatever topic came to them. She could see why Daenerys loved him as her dear friend. When Rhaena wanted some quiet, however, she would fall into step beside Clegane.
They would walk in silence, but not uncomfortably. At least, not for Rhaena. She was used to Sandor Clegane, accustomed to his presence and his manner, however Clegane as always was not partial to company though he made an exception for Rhaena since she did not bother him with questions or pointless chatter. She simply forged forwards tirelessly even when her breaths became short and ragged gasps, her cheeks flushed from effort and she had to use her hands in order to climb the steeper banks. Once or twice she would slip, her foot catching upon something or the snow would simply give way as it had a habit of doing so, but each time Clegane's strong hand would grasp hold of her arm or her back and lift her free of the fall, bringing her closer to his side away from whatever it was that caused her to lose her footing and settle her upon her feet once more. He would then glance her over, satisfy himself that she was alright, then stalk away from her whilst Jon would hurry back. It was an odd routine, but soon enough Rhaena fell into it seamlessly. The only hitch in her comfort was when Gendry sought her out and would walk closely to her, suffering more severely from the cold than anyone else. Despite the fact Gendry still made her feel uncertain and slightly uncomfortable, she would not see the poor boy suffer or freeze, and so would touch his neck or wrist, wherever she could find exposed skin, and allow her warmth to rush through him to keep him warm. He would always smile and thank her, but it took time for Rhaena to accept his thanks and manage small nods in return.
Now was one such time where Gendry felt as if he was freezing his appendages into blocks of ice. Soon enough he'd be an ice statue. Beside him, Jon asked if he was alright, though was able to tell by simply looking at him, and Gendry barely managed a grunt in reply. He searched desperately for Rhaena, unable to see her in front of them. "Ever been north before?" Tormund questioned as he walked with them, feeling fresh and alive unlike most of his companions. To his surprise, Gendry revealed that he had never seen snow until now, a concept that was utterly foreign to Tormund. "Beautiful, eh? I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit."
"You've never been down south." Frowning at Tormund, Jon wondered how Tormund would know how the south smelled, though he argued that he had been to Winterfell. "That's the north." Making no arguments, Tormund simply shrugged. To him this was the true north, as far north as north could go. Once you reached its end and had to turn south, that was where south begun. They continued onwards, Rhaena listening to their conversation behind them as she took a quick drink of water from her provisions which she carried upon her back. Whitefyre was strapped as always to her belt along with a dagger at the small of her back, a second in her boot. Her dragonbone bow and quiver of arrows were also slung upon her back, whilst her dragon horn rested against her thigh on the opposite side to her sword. She had brought it out of habit, though doubted that even if she used it to summon Rhaegal and the others they'd ever hear her. Still, she reasoned that a hunting horn would have its uses in the wildest region known to Westeros, and so it stayed with her always.
"How do you live up here? How do you keep your balls from freezing off?" Gendry complained as he shivered, wondering how any man could survive in this freezing climate, let alone live and build homes. It seemed foolish to choose to settle in such unforgiving places when there was good, fertile land a great deal warmer on the other side of the Wall. Gendry swore he would never complain of the cold again should he ever manage to get back home.
"You have to keep moving. That's the secret. Walking is good, fighting is better, fucking is best."
"There's not another woman within a hundred miles of here." Despite Jon's claim, Tormund glanced behind him in order to look at Rhaena as she reached them, breathing heavily so that her shapely breasts heaved with her fine cheeks gleamed with a bright redness, pink touching the tip of her nose whilst her skin glistened from the sweat of her exertion, hair tousled and windswept as fine flakes of snow settled upon her, melding with her hair and lashes before melting from the heat of her flushed skin. Tormund felt his manhood stir a little, aroused by the fine sight before him but thought instead of Brienne, not wanting to betray his lady love by having thoughts of another woman. Despite this, Jon caught where Tormund's eyes were lingering. "Not her. No one is to lay a hand on her." Dismissing Jon's insistence with a click of his tongue, Tormund instead he looked at Gendry and Jon, who looked fine enough that they would make attractive bed-mates.
"We have to make do with what we've got." Appalled at the suggestion, Gendry backed away from Jon and Tormund directly into Rhaena, causing him to jolt and almost shriek until she laughed musically, eyes dancing brightly from the exercise and freshness of the air.
"Fear not, your honour is safe with me." She teased him before placing her hand against his brow and once again warmed his core to help chase away the chills and cold. Gendry sighed deeply, relieved by the sensation of warmth which flooded through him. Turning then to Jon, Rhaena offered him her hand, but he declined politely, silently worried that expending too much of her magic would tire her and leave her vulnerable, though admittedly Jon could not deny that Rhaena seemed to be more energetic than even the wildlings. The north agreed with her. It always had done. She always appeared happiest when in the north, Jon reasoned to himself. Inclining her head to both men, Rhaena moved forwards to follow after where Gendry had powered onwards, determined to stay warm this time by taking Tormund's advice to keep moving. The conversation between them fell behind Rhaena as she continued, picking a spot in the far distance and aiming towards it like a goal or a marker as it helped her to continue her focus. All the while she listened to the conversations around her as the men in particular grew accustomed to one another and perhaps even bonding a little. Gendry spoke with the former members of the Brotherhood, and after a blunt scolding from Sandor telling him to stop whining, he forgave them. Jon attempted to return Longclaw, the sword which had once belonged to Lord Commander Mormont, to Ser Jorah, but the knight refused as he claimed he had lost the right to the sword after his disgrace. He told Jon to keep it. The most amusing conversation of all, however, was the one between Tormund and Sandor Clegane, speaking of Brienne and how Tormund wanted to make giant red headed babies with her. Rhaena laughed then, thinking she might tell Brienne that her name was carried all the way beyond the Wall on the lips of a wildling who wanted to father her children.
She walked beside him after Tormund had left, sending Sandor an amused sidelong look which earned her a dark glower before she looked away, smiling. "Don't you fucking start." With his gruff grumbling, Rhaena laughed once more before going silent, simply enjoying Sandor's company, though unbeknown to her, there were questions itching at his chest and throat, demanding to be spoken and answered. He held them back for as long as he could tolerate, until finally the urge to scratch became too much. "Clearly you survived escaping the Lannisters. What became of the little bird? She dead yet?" Despite his phrasing, Rhaena suspected that this was Sandor's own way of asking after Sansa out of concern. He had always been soft on her, she had known it from the very beginning but refrained from pointing out such a fact, otherwise she might have found herself suddenly buried in the snow as far as one could dig.
"We fled together. I brought her to her brother and mother. We intended to stay with them but…it did not go as planned. She is safe, though. Safe in Winterfell with Robb, helping to prepare for what is coming. Shall I tell her you asked after her?" Sandor grunted in reply. "I know a little what became of you. Arya told me when we found one another taking the same crossing to Braavos. She told me you were dead, or at least, she left you dying." Reaching outwards, Rhaena dared to touch her hand against Sandor's though he snatched it away from her in an instinctive recoil, not expecting her to show tenderness towards him. "I am glad you are not."
"You'd be one of the few. Or the only."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. Still, I am glad. You were one of the few good ones in that hellish place." Grinding on his teeth, Sandor shot her a look and reminded her that he was no knight and never would be, but his angered look and aggressive tone did not sway her or even frighten her. She had met with far worse than the likes of Sandor Clegane merely spitting words at her. "All the same, you were better than most of those who were. I hope to kill them someday. One by one. All those who forsook their vows and betrayed their oaths. I want nothing more than for them to learn the value of the words they should have honoured before taking off their heads." Not expecting such a bloodthirsty desire from the woman whom had always simply lived to survive, Sandor studied her for a moment before merely grunting. He could understand such a desire. He held the same one too, the desire to kill his own brother. Having found common ground with Rhaena, Sandor became a little more accepting of her presence, and whenever her hand might brush against hers, he did not always shy away from the touch. They walked together until Sandor saw a mountain in the distance, its steep slope reaching into the sky between the clouds as if reaching for something out of their sight.
"That's what I saw in the fire." He announced as everyone came to a halt in order to look at the mountain. Admittedly, Rhaena felt slightly dismayed. It was so far, and so steep. She felt it very likely she would fall and break her neck before anything else would kill her. What a miserable and unheroic way to die. "A mountain like an arrowhead."
"Are you sure?" Thoros questioned him though Sandow nodded his head firmly. He was certain.
"We're getting close." The closer they approached the mountain, however, the more it seemed the wild wished to throw them away. A harsh snowstorm soon fell upon them, the beautiful flakes now sharp like knives as Rhaena covered her head and battled against the winds, struggling to keep herself walking in a straight line and close to the group. Everyone struggled the same, however Sandow quickly found Rhaena and slung his arm around her in order to pull her close against him, anchoring his hand upon her so that she would not stray far from him at the very least, keeping her safe and using his size to shield her against the wind and snow. Her arm naturally came about his waist and gripped onto his belt, securing herself to him almost identically to how she had once before, years ago. Sandor recalled that time, where the riots of peasants had almost cost both Rhaena and the little bird their maidenheads. It was only because of him both were still alive, yet here he was again shielding the little dragon as if she were still a child. Perhaps there were still some small parts of him that were inherently good, at least when it came to certain people. Pushing aside these thoughts, Sandor bowed his head and continued to use his strength to simply wade through the winds and snow whilst almost dragging Rhaena alongside him, determined not to lose her. If any one of them became lost from the main group, then they would be lost forever.