Dorne

294 AC

Rhaenys Targaryen was not an easily puzzled young woman.

In her academic pursuits, she had often found that most things were in fact rather simple to understand and that it was simply the time cost and dedication that allowed one to discover their own talents that lay beneath the surface, or to uncover a hidden piece of knowledge regarding their craft or trade.

And finding out how people worked, at least in general, had been one such path of knowledge that she had undertaken personally.

Humans were generally designed to pick the easiest course of action every single time. It was, of course, an in-built mechanism within their minds that had developed over the ages. It was meant to conserve time and energy, which could be better put to use in hunting, guarding, or reproduction.

However, it was this mechanism that so often managed to get people broiled up into their own troubles. The best path is usually not the easiest, and therefore, humans generally stayed away from things that could be considered hard, in favor of staying safe.

The path of least resistance was also the most popular one.

Rhaenys had been well aware of this own behavior in herself and had even recalled other times when she'd succumbed to it in her childish youth. As she got older, however, she could subvert this unconscious tendency for her own benefit.

It was easier for her to accomplish tasks that demanded more time and attention, such as studying, or even writing out her own notes and compiling them into her own books. It was not necessarily a painless process, but it was one that Rhaenys found immensely enjoyable.

She was a particular fan of the dusty adventure novels that were shelved in the great library she called home. The thrilling and excitable style of writing had charmed her and Rhaenys felt an instinctive pull within her to try her own hand at it.

However, Rhaenys had quickly found that more often than not, she was staring at a blank page. She absolutely loathed wasting time, yet she could not bring herself to write down more than a few paragraphs before she forced herself to resume more productive work.

A part of her knew that in order to write adventure, one at least had to have had a taste of it. There needed to be some personal experience to draw inspiration from, something which Rhaenys Targaryen very much lacked. So much for that. She thought bitterly.

As a result, she found no better use for her time than reading and studying. The Water Gardens would be there anyway, she could get to them and her family some other time.

That was, at least, until Starag Mormont had arrived.

This mountainous and frustratingly arrogant man had perplexed Rhaenys to her core. So much so, that after their initial encounter (something which she was still partially embarrassed about), she had elected to take an unlikely interest in the North and its Noble Houses.

A quick swipe from the historical and world sections of the library had yielded answers. House Mormont was the poorest of the northern families, and barely had anything besides a small fishing village, and a stone keep in the mountains. Its members were largely forgettable, and precious little of them had made it beyond a few vague mentions in the history books.

They were largely isolated, and despite their clear lack of valuable resources and gold, House Mormont was in fact one of the only Houses in the North-or Westeros for that matter- to have its own Valyrian Steel blade. A hand-and-a-half sword called Longclaw.

Rhaenys had seen Mormont sparring on several occasions with his squire and the Tyrell lordling. The blade in his hand had fit the descriptions perfectly. White bear's head pommel. Boiled leather grip. Smoky black blade. All matched up with the books.

While she had never held such a blade before, Rhaenys was sure it could lend its wielder a specific brand of confidence. Valyrian Steel was faster and lighter than normal steel and could cut through full plate armor like a cold knife in running water.

But that alone couldn't explain what she saw in Starag Mormont. This enormously tall man who came from a backwater House in the North did not have the walk of a poor lord begging for scraps.

This man had the confident stride of a King.

Such self-assurance was not easily won in a game of cards. And it was not the weight of the crown on one's head that made them powerful, either. Rhaenys Targaryen had only found one possible answer across all of her studies up to that point.

It was the unique knowledge that one could kill whomever he liked.

Rhaenys did not doubt his ability to perform in combat when she watched him handily beat both his squire, Lord Tyrell, and even manage to best her uncle in the training yard. Even when up against a spear, Mormont had made the whole affair look like child's play.

When she had made further inquiries about this strange man to her uncles, they had both informed her of his most recent exploits. Starag Mormont had traveled down from the North and had attended a string of tourneys. He won them all and had even beaten Jamie in a close duel.

Rhaenys had wondered about that part… For a moment she had doubted her uncles' word. Jamie was the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms… Surely they were wrong… Right?

Her uncles hadn't been wrong. Starag Mormont had indeed bested Jamie in a duel. It was incredibly unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility. She'd have to find out more about it later… somehow.

It was this man that irked her curiosity so very much. He walked around the Water Gardens as if he were the Prince of Dorne, not her uncle. And when she had met him the second time, even Rhaenys had to admit that he was annoyingly handsome. He could have any woman he wanted, and he knew it.

Those deep blue eyes… That thin, cruel smile underneath the full black beard made her question her own sexuality. And the sound of his deep and rich voice had compelled her further to reconsider her own personal choices as far as relationships went.

Rhaenys had only had two lovers before. Both had been women. Yet she merely found them to be passing pleasures. There was no real connection between them… something which Rhaenys had secretly craved for the longest time.

She had thought she'd never take a man into her bed after she'd seen… Her mother…

It was too difficult for her to consciously think about. But in her dreams, sometimes she would find herself back in the Red Keep, being pulled along by Jamie as they tried to hide from the Lannister men. Then they would come across the nursery where her brother and mother were and…

She saw The Mountain standing over the corpse of her mother, and then turning to her with those stoney black eyes. You're next. They seem to say.

Then she would wake up screaming for a few moments, and she would realize again that she was in fact not in the Red Keep, but in Dorne. Far away from Tywin Lannister and his dog.

Yet… When she had reluctantly agreed to play a round of Whist with Starag Mormont, it was when he had begun speaking of his home that Rhaenys had felt a warm stirring within her chest.

Rhaenys had never traveled anywhere besides Dragonstone, King's Landing, or the Water Gardens. She had not even seen snow before, only having read about what it was from books in the geography section.

The North was a cold and barren place, yet Starag Mormont had single-handedly made it sound like it was the Reach. She didn't know how she'd take to the cold and harsh lands beyond the Neck, and neither did she think that she would get the chance to find out.

And his damned questions! He probably knew that she couldn't avoid questions, at least not about herself. She almost lost herself in his pretty blue eyes when he asked her about her home.

Rhaenys had not wanted to lie to this man. Yet, she clearly couldn't tell him who she really was at the time. So she had told him that she was initially from Dragonstone. It was then that Rhaenys had let herself run free in those distant memories. Why not tell this handsome bastard about her mother? It's not like she was going to mention her name.

And by the end of the night, Rhaenys knew deep down that she was already his. She could tell from his casual demeanor that he absolutely could've spent the night with another, more pliable girl. But he had decided to spend time with her… Was it the challenge of taking her maidenhead? Perhaps, but Rhaenys wasn't sure.

Though Rhaenys would not give herself up in a fight. She deemed herself far too valuable to simply be swept away on the first night. She would not just give herself up to any man like her cousins would.

Her resolve had cracked when Starag didn't even care about her refusal of his continued company for the evening. He simply smiled at her, kissed the back of her hand, stuck his pipe in his mouth, and walked away.

For the first time in her life, Rhaenys had doubted if she had really made the correct choice. She had once heard about desperate and needy men from her cousins when she was younger. How most men would take it personally if they had been denied by a lady, and how they'd explode in anger because of the rejection.

When Starag-for that was when she began to think of him as Starag- had walked away without a care in the world… Rhaenys could not stand the twinging tightness in her chest, and neither could she tolerate the sopping heat that ran from her lower lips at the mere thought of the handsome bastard.

She had tossed and turned all night long, barely getting a wink of sleep. Though she was only too tempted to rub herself down there, she managed to restrain herself.

But Rhaenys knew that if she spent more time around him… That her self-control would begin to slip. Until it had ceased to exist at all.

It was not simply his good looks and dashing charm that impressed her, and neither was it his impossible height or his layered, firm muscles. No… It was something far rarer…

Rhaenys had found that, when she was around Starag, she felt almost like a little girl all over again. Not in the sense that she was a child, but it was a primal feeling, something that was completely foreign to her, and likely all the other nobility of Westeros.

She felt totally safe with him. Like she could divulge every interesting fact and dirty secret that she had dredged up from the library. As if she could let go of the restrained, lady-like appearance she had so carefully cultivated in herself and be completely free from judgment of any kind.

His self-assurance soothed her like a warm blanket. Yes, he certainly had quite the ego, was absolutely one hell of an arrogant barbarian, and was even indirectly sexist… But that was what made him… Starag.

She was so surprised when she had seen him again days later. Then, she was absolutely enraged by his presence. Surely her uncles had sent him to distract her, to take her away from her work. He couldn't have been there purely for her. Starag was intelligent enough to understand that Rhaenys preferred her solitude.

Again, he had shocked her. He was honest and truthful, and then he had told her she was beautiful. Rhaenys had never been so embarrassed at herself for blushing like a maid. I am a maid! She reminded herself immediately.

Rhaenys missed his warmth when he left her alone again in the library. After she'd cleaned up the mess she'd made with her food, Rhaenys had realized that her books were, in fact, poor company.

Maybe… Maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad thing to attend breakfast with the rest of her family… just this once, of course.

The rest of the day had whirled by so quickly, yet it had been so very exciting at the same time. Doing new things was often exciting, and so it was with swordplay.

She'd never lifted a sword in her life, but as Starag talked passionately of the correct way to swing the blade, and then how to actually hold it with both her hands, Rhaenys had surprised herself by feeling envious of the practice itself. Not because Starag was better at it, but because of how he spoke of it.

The deep blue eyes had lit up with excitement as he adjusted her arms and her grip. She loved the feeling of his rough hands caressing her skin, and felt herself ache further below at his touch. Rhaenys simply wanted to stand on the tips of her toes and shut him up with a firm kiss.

That would be impossible, though. If she was going to kiss him, she'd have to jump.

Rhaenys Targaryen loved to ride in the open sands.

Her Sand Steed, who she had called Meleys, had darted swiftly overtop the dunes and sweeping hills of red pearly sand, quickly leaving their competition behind in the dust.

She glanced behind her and grinned when she saw the mountainous figure on his large horse riding after her. There was that ice-cold concentration written on his handsome face. It was calculating endlessly and was even… intimidating to Rhaenys.

It only made her want him more, though.

Rhaenys knew that there were many women who had likely tried to tame this strange man. It was far too often that women tried to pull the teeth of their men, which only seemed counterproductive to Rhaenys.

Was it not the sharp teeth and dangerous gazes that had attracted them in the first place? Then what exactly would they do with the men they had chosen then? Stupid girls. She thought plainly.

The Man riding his warbeast behind her was a pirate, a barbarian. He took it in stride, and Rhaenys simply could not get enough of it. Starag was intoxicating to her.

To her right, the Summer Sea glistened and shined brightly with the late afternoon sun. The white shimmer in the ocean had pointed directly towards her like the tip of a sword. And up ahead were the coves and rocky cliffs of the Broken Arm.

While there was no conclusive evidence of what happened to the Arm of Dorne, Rhaenys had preferred the version that the songs had told. When the First Men were migrating to Westeros so long ago, the Children of the Forest had conjured a mighty magical weapon called the Hammer of the Waters.

They cracked it down upon the Arm of Dorne, and while they were ultimately unsuccessful in stopping humans from settling down in Westeros, the Children had managed to permanently sink the Arm of Dorne into the Narrow Sea. The Stepstones were the remains of the cataclysm.

Rhaenys didn't hold much stock in gods or legends. Neither had come to save her or her family from the Lannisters. Still, it was an entertaining story nonetheless.

She halted just a few meters away from the cliff's edge. This was her favorite spot. The windy breeze of salt spray that came from the sea combined with the breathtaking view was simply magnificent.

It made her miss the dull grey, monstrous keep of the Stone Drum, and even of the windy and sometimes cold weather of her childhood home. The soft crunch of the pale green and dry grass underneath her feet was sorely missed.

Her companion's horse had stopped beside her. The black mane of tight black curls was tight to the back of his head, and today he wore a large green Dornish tunic. On his belt was the sword of his family. The white bear's head pommel stared back at Rhaenys with small ruby eyes.

"You'd make a good jockey." Starag had given her a sideways glance. Those thin, cruel lips had curved into a smirk.

The absurd image of her crouched on horseback while riding down a trail had soon filled her mind. It made her laugh in the wind. "Of all the things you could say, it's that which comes to mind?" She asked delightedly.

"Naturally," Starag seemed to be mildly offended at the question, though the grin on his face never died away. "Someone's got to knock you off that high horse of yours."

Rhaenys had nearly burst into a fit of chuckles at his… Probably intentional pun. She wanted to smack him on the arm and kiss him on the lips at the same time.

"What's up there?" He nodded his head up at the rocky slope perhaps a hundred feet away from them. It looked more like a small mountain, though.

"I don't know," Rhaenys answered. But now she was uninhibited. Starag was here with her. What was the worst that could happen? "But I think we should find out."

Those deep blue eyes looked at her with approval. Rhaenys blushed underneath their gazing scrutiny. "Race you there." He said.

They had both shot away on their horses, heading right towards the steep cliffside. Now, though, it seemed that Starag's massive brown warhorse had begun to pick up speed over Meleys.

"Come on, girl," Rhaenys said in her horse's ear. "Can't let them win, now can we."

Meleys' long head nodded firmly. Just under the gusts of wind that swept up her hair, she heard the galloping legs of her steed increase ever so slightly, speeding up as they slowly dragged forward ahead.

Bear, the warhorse, had noticed this as well and had also begun to make up for his increased carry load. It seemed he was not about to be outperformed by another, shaggier horse.

She nearly cursed as she saw Bear drive right by her at the last second, winning the race for his master. They both came to a stop before the rocky steep and dismounted their horses.

Starag grinned at her again as he stepped over to her. There were those lightning-blue eyes again… "It seems I've won, Princess."

He had started calling her that in private, and while Rhaenys had not liked it initially, she realized that it was really just a… pet name for her. She'd have to come up with one for him soon enough.

"Indeed you have…" Rhaenys said in acknowledgment. She didn't really care if she won. As long as she'd get to see that smile aimed at her. Not that she hadn't given it her best shot, of course.

Starag came closer. He was perhaps about a foot away from her. "Do I get a prize, my lady?" He said in a low voice. The lilt of his rough northern accent rolled off his tongue.

Rhaenys' breath had caught in her throat. She had to do it now. They were far from the prying eyes of her uncles.

She closed the distance and jumped up. She hooked her arms around his neck and planted a greedy kiss on his lips. Rhaenys was thankful when his arms had wrapped around her waist.

"You've no idea how long I've been wanting to do that." She admitted, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks again as they were face-to-face. "Will that satisfy you, Lord Mormont?"

He gently let her down and smiled softly at her. As if it had been years since they'd last seen each other. "For the moment. Though later, I may wish to have another taste of Dragon on my lips."

Rhaenys' face felt scalding hot at the implication. She had long been aware of how men and women coupled. There was more than enough material in the library to properly illustrate the act of sex to her. That, and her cousins were incorrigable in that department.

Still, that did not stop Rhaenys Targaryen from blushing like a maid. Gods, she was pathetic, wasn't she? Falling for this barbarian the day they met… Get a grip on yourself, Rhaenys! She didn't know if she could stop herself this time…

Starag had taken her hand and glanced up the steep slope of rocks, at the small crevice at the top which led into the unknown. They still had plenty of daylight left, and it might take them a few hours or so to ride back to the Water Gardens. They'd be back just in time for dinner.

They soon began climbing the slope hand-in-hand. Starag led the way with carefully placed footsteps as they went up and up and up.

When they reached the top of the rocky steep, Rhaenys held tight as Starag heaved her up towards him and through the narrow passage. It was large enough for both of them, in truth, but the ledge below it had been a bit too high for her.

And it was probably a valid excuse for Starag to plant his right hand on her ass. She felt a sort of giddy excitement as the hand gently squeezed her left cheek through her tight leather riding pants.

Rhaenys climbed through the rest of the passage behind him and had laid her hand on one of the rocks jutting out from the stone wall. She pressed her hand firmly against it to regain her balance.

"Ah!" She squeaked as she sharply drew back her hand. There was now a jagged red line running across her palm from the sharp rock. Rhaenys would've fallen over if not for Starag catching her.

He said nothing as he balanced her and inspected the cut. He tore off the cuff of his tunic with a simple pull and quickly wrapped it around her palm, tying the two ends together with a sharp tug. "There. That should do it for now." He said. Then they continued on. As if nothing had happened.

They came upon the end of the short tunnel and looked out onto the smooth rocky overlook that gave them a far better view of the Summer Sea.

Starag climbed through the opening, and Rhaenys followed close behind, quickly forgetting about the cut on her hand.

She felt the sun's gaze on her skin once again as they walked out onto the wide smooth stone platform. Surrounding them was a thick wall of jagged rocks that seemed like a sort of nature-made palisade. It only left the narrow window that looked out into the Summer Sea.

"It's beautiful up here," Rhaenys said. She could imagine building a small hut in this tiny clearing. There would be a front porch with a rocking chair, and inside there would be the smell of freshly baked scones and steamed shrimp. A hearth with a billowing chimney, too.

And who was sitting in the rocking chair? Rhaenys looked up at her mountainous companion. She saw him sitting there, slowly rocking back and forth with his pipe in his mouth.

What would she be doing? Rhaenys figured that someone would have to cook for them, and it wouldn't be Starag. He'd just live on hard rations. His dried beef and stale bread could rot in the Seven Hells for all she cared.

No. Rhaenys would cook them a proper meal every night. Something they could enjoy while they laughed with one another, and even traded insults as well. She liked the idea of the fresh scones and steamed shrimp.

"It is." Starag agreed. He was admiring the sea. "Come, let's get a better look." He said.

They sat down next to a cluster of rocks by the edge of the overlook. Resting her back against the cold stone, Rhaenys planted her head on Starag's arm. She doubted she'd be able to lay her head on his shoulder, but his biceps would do just fine for her.

"Could we stay a little while longer?" She asked.

There was that thin, cruel smile again from underneath the full black beard. "I don't see why not." He said just before he kissed her forehead.

They spent a good while sitting there, gazing out at the glittering open sea until they both closed their eyes and fell asleep.

The sun had just finished its daily journey across the sky when Rhaenys had been nudged sharply in the side. She nearly jostled awake in her seat when she looked up into the hard blue eyes of Starag Mormont.

He wasn't looking at her, though…

Rhaenys was about to look over her shoulder to see what he was staring at. "Don't look at it, Rhaenys." She stopped her head from moving upon hearing the cold and authoritative voice of the Lord of Bear Island.

"Don't look at what?" She whispered nervously.

Starag didn't answer her immediately, his blue eyes only moved slightly to the left as he kept watching… whatever it was. Her nerves had ramped up when she saw… calculating fear in his eyes.

"Shadowcat." He said finally. "Probably smelled the cut on your hand."

Shit! Rhaenys cursed herself for being so stupid. She was the one who knew about these animals and now she was the one who had gotten them into this mess. "Could we stay awhile longer?" her words before she'd nodded off had sprung to mind. What were you thinking, Rhaenys?

"Listen to me, Rhaenys." Starag ordered.

Rhaenys looked up at him with bated breath. This had to be some kind of joke, right? It had to be…

Starag's expression was ice-cold. He was not in a japing mood. "You'll do exactly as I say. Understand?"

She nodded her head slightly, but not too much as to give away the overwhelming tension that spread throughout her body. It would only embolden the feline predator behind her.

"Good. When I say "Run", I want you to leave the way we came. I'll stay and hold off the Shadowcat from chasing you."

Her heart had begun to beat rapidly as she replayed the words again in her mind. No! Shadowcats could tear men apart with a single swipe of their claws.

What was this one doing all the way out here? Shadowcats would normally avoid attacking living prey…

Unless they were starved.

There was a fierce determination in those deep blue eyes. "You're no good to me here and now. You'd only just get in the way. You will leave the way we came, and you will ride back to The Water Gardens. Is that understood?"

Rhaenys nodded again. This time she pleaded desperately that she wouldn't have another taken away from her. Would Starag be taken from her as her mother and her brother had been? Like her father?

Please… Keep him safe. She had pleaded to whatever gods might be listening. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. It was then that she heard the loud rumbling growl from behind her. How close was it? She didn't know.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrghmmmmm…" Gods, it sounded like it was just inches away from her. Rhaenys prepared herself for the inevitable rush. The adrenaline pumped into her veins like the sharp thrust of a sword.

Suddenly, Starag had jumped up from his seat and brandished Longclaw. He stepped in front of her, blocking the Shadowcat's path. "RUN!" He roared into the clearing.

Rhaenys jumped up on her feet and made a mad sprint for the narrow passageway. Behind her, she heard the softly padded paws clambering after her. She didn't dare look behind her for the fear of seeing those glowing yellow eyes.

THUMP! The paws had stopped, but Rhaenys simply kept going. Starag was right. She'd only be a burden on him. His best chance was fighting this beast alone, where he wouldn't have to try to protect someone else.

She scuttled up onto the ledge and into the small cave. It was then that she had glanced back for a few moments. What she saw had terrified her to the bone and made her heart stop cold.

Starag's left arm was leaking blood, and his tunic already had been torn right across the torso. There were three red marks raked along his chest. And the Shadowcat? She finally got to see it now, just barely in the gaze of the dying sun.

It was a massive creature, about as long as Starag was tall. Though it certainly looked lanky and thin, likely malnourished. Still, its arms were thick and lean, and the legs were bent in preparation to pounce with well-built and powerful muscles. Its thick black fur with running horizontal white stripes was beautiful, and also tinged with dark red.

What are you doing, Rhaenys?! He told you to run! She remembered his orders and did as she was told. She didn't want to leave him behind, but what else could she do?

"RRRRRAAGH!" She heard another deep shriek coming from the Shadowcat as she swiftly made her way through the passage and out the other end onto the ledge. With precision she didn't know she had, Rhaenys Targaryen had carefully but quickly made her way down the slope.

Once she reached the bottom, she ran over to the out ditch where they'd left the horses. She resisted the urge to turn back around and hopped on Meleys. Her horse had noticed the panicked look on her face. What happened? The small hazel eyes seemed to ask her.

Rhaenys didn't answer. She only gave Bear one more glance. The big brown eyes looked her way. Go. I'll stay behind. They said.

All throughout the rest of the night, Rhaenys Targaryen had been weeping on her horse as she rode all the way home. She never once stopped to spare Meleys, and all she could think about was the Man who was fighting for his life right now. All because of her silly little daydreams.

She had already fallen asleep out of exhaustion by the time they arrived at the Water Gardens. Her horse had carried her the rest of the way.

There was no one else riding behind her.

Rhaenys had slowly cracked open her eyes. She blinked once, then twice, then a third time. Finally, she sat up and looked around to see where she was.

She was in her uncle's room. When she lifted up the soft orange silk covers, she saw that she was in the same leather pants and white shirt. Though her boots had been taken off.

At her side, Uncle Oberyn had shifted awake in his chair next to the bedside table. His narrow black eyes had quickly fallen on her. "Rhaenys," He said with a sigh of relief. Those black orbs had quickly shined with a grim glint. "What happened? Where is Starag?"

The flood of harrowing memories had all come back to her. She instantly jumped out of bed and was on her feet. "He's fighting a Shadowcat! How long has it been? We can still-"

"Sit." Her uncle ordered sternly.

"But Starag is still-" She protested.

The black eyes burned into the back of her skull. "Sit!" He said again, this time much firmer than before.

Reluctantly, Rhaenys fell back onto the bed and put her head in her hands. Gods, how long had she slept? Surely Starag had to be fine? He… He had to be.

"It is only a few hours before dawn, little one." Uncle Oberyn had said in a quieter voice. Rhaenys had even seen… guilt in his black eyes. Why? "He has not returned. Lord Garlan has taken out a party of riders to find him, but they have not come back. And..." He trailed off slowly. "I have not woken his nephew or the Little Flower. I do not know what to tell them..."

Then, her uncle leaned forward. "Tell me what happened."

Rhaenys told him everything. Though she had left out the part where she kissed Starag full on the lips, and the little vision she had of their cottage in the clearing. That, she would keep to herself.

Uncle Oberyn had sat back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. "It is not your fault, little one. And I am sure if Starag were here, that he would not blame you either."

That was not how it felt for Rhaenys. If only she hadn't been such a bloody fool and had left earlier… All of it could have been avoided.

The chill had already set into her mind. She might've just lost herself the one Man she would've loved with all her heart. The only man she could have ever loved…

Starag Mormont, one of the greatest swordsmen who ever lived, and the smartest man she'd ever met… Sent to his grave because of a silly girl.

What would she tell his family? That he died to protect her? That she'd robbed them of the one man who would have raised his House up from the ground and into the ranks of higher nobility? Who would've been a ruthless and brutal lord who would look after his own people like they were his children?

The door to the room had burst open. Standing there was Obara and a few of the guards. She looked at Rhaenys and Oberyn with a look of astonished dread. "There's a rider approaching. We think it's him."

Oberyn shot to his feet. Rhaenys followed his lead as they walked silently through the pink marble and sandstone halls and climbed the yew stairs up to the northern watchtower.

The guard on duty simply handed Oberyn the spyglass in his hands. Rhaenys' uncle put the glass up to his eye and looked into the distance. When he put it down, his eyes had widened in shock. "It's him."

Starag Mormont had ridden through the front gates slumped over in his saddle and was nearly completely covered in a messily congealed mixture of blood and dirt. Longclaw had been kept sheathed in the thin coat of furs, though the white bear's head pommel was stained with dark red.

Along his arms and chest were multiple searing jagged cuts and open wounds. The biggest was a thick gash across his outer left arm. It leaked torrents of fresh red ichor down his forearm.

His Dornish tunic had been completely torn to shreds, and the remains hung from his waist. That wasn't to say that he was completely exposed to the cool Dornish nighttime air. Wrapped awkwardly around his body was a large, bloody, and thick fur pelt. Midnight black, with multiple white lines running across the length of the pelt.

"I think we know who won." Obara joked half-heartedly. It fell flat among those gathered in the courtyard.

Indeed, it was in poor taste. The most terrifying injury of them all was the sharp claw marks that had cut diagonally across his face. Rhaenys nearly broke down when she could not find his left eye. Where Starag's eye had once been, there was now a sleek swath of blackish-red.

"By the Stranger…" One of the guards muttered and winced. "How is he still alive?"

With eight of the guards, as well as Obara, it hadn't taken them long to haul Starag into the keep. They brought him to his room and lay him down gently on the soft king-sized bed. Upon resting his back against the pillows, his right eye had shot open.

"Lyanna! I promised! I'll look after him!" He shouted into the room. His breathing was rapid and his chest rose and fell erratically. It seemed he'd been dreaming, though Rhaenys wasn't sure what about.

After a few moments, his lone eye searched his surroundings, and he probably realized where he was as he came back to the present. "Where's Rhaenys?" He asked Oberyn.

Rhaenys Targaryen's heart had panged hard upon hearing her name from the dry throat of Starag Mormont. She immediately burst through the assembled crowd and fell to his side. She gently took his hand. "I'm here, Starag. I'm here."

"Good." The Lord of Bear Island swallowed with a nod. He let out a hollow breath and rubbed the back of her hand gently with his thumb, covering her hand in blood. She didn't care. "Good girl. Good girl. Good…"

And then, the Wandering Bear had fallen back asleep. He was still breathing, but he was out cold.

They had washed his wounds and staunched the bleeding. Nothing could be done for his missing eye, save a bandage. When they had removed the Shadowcat's pelt, Rhaenys had nearly gasped upon seeing the vast hoard of scars that raked across his body. They must've numbered in the hundreds…

Maester Caleotte had arrived and rubbed healing salves onto the newly cleaned wounds, which was then followed by his prayers to the Seven. Rhaenys didn't know if the Seven would aid one who worshipped the Old Gods.

"He has suffered too much shock for one day, my lord." Caleotte had said to Oberyn. "In fact, Lord Mormont has been through far too much for one lifetime. While he is still alive, I do not think he will wake soon. We must wait and see."

They had poured water down Starag's throat to keep him hydrated. When nothing else could be done for him, the guards and the Maester had made their exit out of the room. Obara gave Starag one last pained look and hugged Rhaenys fiercely.

"He will be fine, Rhae. He is stronger than all of us. If anyone can survive one of those beasts, it is Starag Mormont." Obara whispered in her ear.

They separated, and then Rhaenys' cousin left the room. Only she and Oberyn were alone with the unconscious Starag laying on his bed. Neither knew when he'd actually wake up.

"You should get some sleep, little one," Oberyn said gravely. "I will stay by his side. Don't you worry about him."

Don't worry about him? How? How could she not worry about this man she had come to admire? Who she had come to love? Rhaenys shook her head. "No." She said firmly. "I will not leave him. Not now."

Her uncle frowned at her. "We do not know when he will wake. He is riddled with scars and cuts. Starag may have the spirit of ten warriors, but he only has the body of one." He shuffled back in his chair, making himself comfortable. "Go get some sleep, Rhaenys. He will be fine."

Rhaenys Targaryen was not about to be moved. She was a Dragon. It was time she started acting like one. She tried her best to replicate the cold-iron voice of the Lord of Bear Island. "I will stay by his side. You cannot change my mind on this, uncle."

Uncle Oberyn stared at her with tired incredulity. "I see…" He gave Starag a cursory glance, likely believing that there was more going on than he was apparently told. "So be it. But I think he would like it if you were close to him."

There were no more objections between the two of them. Rhaenys closed the twin doors and slid into bed right beside Starag Mormont. His skin was cold to the touch, and he was running with a slight fever. And so it was, that Rhaenys Targaryen lay her head gently on the chest of her Bear, to give what comfort she could to him.

Soon enough, sleep had taken her into its inky black embrace.