The King Of Winters

by King of Kings456

'The Strength of the Wolf maybe the pack, but the lone wolf is certainly the baddest one. And the Dragons who made him one will feel the wrath of the Lone Wolf.' The Rebellion never happened and Rhaegar Targaryen rules the Seven Kingdoms with his right, setting aside his father. But what he didn't took into the account was the one big mistake he'd done in the past.

92. Chapter 92

Argella

She woke up in the bed all alone again. Andrew had already left the chambers by the time she woke up. The sheet and the stuffed pillow he had used last night were neatly placed on the chair where he had spent the night away from her bed. She wondered where he had gone to. He spent very little time in the chambers Lord Hoster had graciously lend them for their entire stay. Argella did not fail to see that. Often he returned to her when she had already shrugged into her bedding gown and he always left before she woke up.

Something rubbed against her hand beside the bed. Argella rolled around and saw red eyes staring up at her. "Do you know where your human friend has gone?" she asked the wolf. The direwolf simple cocked his head and sniffed her hand all in silence. Andrew had given him a fitting name. The white wolf was quiet as a ghost and Argella has never heard him make any noise, not so much as a growl or even a snarl when he was angered. Argella stroked the wolfs head, gently. "I thought as much." Ghost nipped at her fingers, playful, and trotted back to his place by the fire.

At least Andrew had left Ghost with her to keep her company while he was busy with his war. She must be grateful for that. She was still in bed, curled up tight, her curtains drawn, and she could not have said if it was morning or noon. She threw back the sheets and got up from the bed. Her bed hangings were yanked back, and Argella Baratheon, the Queen in the North stepped out of her bed in the chambers of Riverrun.

Her blanket fell to the floor. Underneath she had only a thin bedgown to cover her nakedness. The doors opened as two bedmaids crept closer to her. "I will need hot water for my bath," she told them. When the serving girls filled the tub with hot water, she sent them away preferring to bathe alone. They had brought a dozen vials and bottles of perfumes and scented oils all of different fragrances, but Argella used none. She was from Storm's End and she smelled of rain and woodsmoke like the lands she came from.

The hot water made her think of Storm's End, and she took strength from that. She cleaned her face, scrubbed the dirt from her back, washed her hair and brushed it out until it sprang back in thick jet black curls. The maids waited for her to get out of the bath to help her dress, but Argella sent them away again. They were women in the service of her mother and no doubt she had instructed them to warp her up in silk and gold and gemstones. When the time came to dress, she chose the leather jerkin she loved to wear and knotted a soft lambswool cloak trimmed with white fox fur beneath her chin. It was not a fitting dress for a queen or a woman wedded, but she didn't care. She was still a maid though and there was no problem in following her maiden ways. She recalled how Andrew had not minded seeing her in leathers and cotton jerkins and linen tunics. Perhaps it would show him what he could expect from her.

Just as she was picking up her bow and the quiver of arrows, the invitation from her mother arrived to join the ladies for breakfast in the great hall of Riverrun. Argella rolled her eyes at the invitation. She would have much rather preferred to shoot some arrows in the yard or fish some trout for Ghost than sit with the ladies and hear their mindless chatter. She should deny the offer. She's a queen now and she could do that, but Argella knew that wouldn't sit well with her mother. She already knew the questions she would have to face even before she made it there. She didn't know why the women were all so interested in what happened between her sheets. Her own friends from Stormlands whispered to her in hushed tones, enquiring about the King's prowess in bed and asked her if he was actually a savage wolf like they said of him. Even the maids of the Riverlands wondered amongst themselves in silence about the day she would lose her maidenhead. It should be curiosity, she supposed. They just want to know what it is like to know a King and share their bed with him and have a prince. The thought sounded so stupid to her though.

She knew that her husband would not be there or Gendry or her father. Even her brother spent less time with her since her marriage. He liked to train in the yard every morning. Sometimes their father joined him. She would have liked to see that at least instead of being here. She would not be allowed her to participate. But no one could keep her from watching it.

Argella watched from the castle walls as the knights trained in the yard every morn. There were so many men in Riverrun that everyday she saw new combatants taking the field against each other amidst cheering crowds. There was Bronze Yohn Royce in his bronze armour engraved with ancient runes to ward to any blows, Ser Lyn Corbray with the valyrian steel sword of his house, Lady Forlorn, Eddard Karstark and Smalljon Umber from her husband's honour guard and many others. Argella had seen Gendry spending more and more time in the yard. The people called out his name everytime he knocked someone to the ground. Despite all that Andrew never once got in the yard to train though, not to her knowledge. She wondered if he was there today or if he even trained. They said he was the finest swordsman who'd ever walked in this world. Her husband had won two great victories, slaying the dragon in Winterfell and smashing Garlan Tyrell and his huge host outside the walls of Riverrun in the Battle of the Camps, but from the way some of his bannermen spoke of him, he might have been Aegon the Conqueror reborn. He must train sometime to have earned such a reputation.

She would have done well against some of the competition. Argella had seen them fight and had learned their moves. She could knock a couple of these knights on their back, she was sure about that. She could beat them with a sword.

Argella took the long way around the castle to the great hall so she would have the time look at the men sparring in the yard. She found Brienne at the hallway past the courtyard looking down at the sparring men.

Argella walked towards her. The maid of Tarth was as different from other ladies as . . . well, as a knight from a maid. She was still dressed in her blue armour as if waiting for some unseen battle. The sight of Brienne standing on the hallway made Argella smile. This was the first time she had been so close to her since they had come to Riverrun for her wedding. Argella much preferred the company of the older girl to the others around her. "Brienne," she said. "What are you doing here?"

She gave her a puzzled smile. "Your grace, I. . . I was just watching. Your lady mother awaits you eagerly in the great hall."

"Ah, don't mention that," Argella said. "I couldn't care any less about it. Did you have your breakfast?"

"No, my lady. Your mother. . ." Only then did she saw the wolf that was following her. She drew back. "Is that the King's wolf?"

"Aye. You don't have to worry about him. He's good." She took the older girl's arm and led her toward the steps. "You shall keep me company then."

"Your mother..."

"My mother wouldn't mind. She is to sup with me and you will be there as well."

Brienne looked back longingly at the yard but followed Argella. The ladies in the castle liked to ignore Brienne completely. More often than not Argella had seen the older girl sitting alone in one of the lower benches eating the food and drinking the wine offered to her in silence away from everyone else. Those who wouldn't ignore her did worse than that. Men laughed and called her beauty and women whispered pitifully in hushed tones of how unpleasant she looked and how hard it will be for her to find a husband. In her blue armour, Brienne was almost beautiful, though. There were talks and japes about that as well. Argella once offered her some of her own clothes, gowns and breeches and tunics whichever she preferred. But Brienne had said that she was much more comfortable in her mail and plate.

She seemed taller in her armour, and broader and stronger, and Argella had seen that she had wonderful eyes. She thought Brienne looked finer in armour than she did in tunics and jerkins or any other clothes she might wear. She didn't prefer silks or gold or gems like any other lady did. The only ornament on her was the brooch that clasped her cloak; the sun of Tarth wrought in soft yellow gold.

Beyond them in the yard, two dozen men were taking their practice with sword and shield. With the castle so crowded, the outer ward had been given over to guests to raise their tents and pavilions, leaving only the smaller inner yards for training. One of the Piper brothers was being driven backward by Ser Gladden Wylde, with a blue-green maelstrom, on the gold field of his shield. Chunky Ser Kennos of Kayce, who chuffed and puffed every time he raised his longsword, seemed to be holding his own against Ser Aenys Frey, but Lord Jason Mallister of Seagard was savagely punishing Ser Garse Goodbrook. Blunted swords or no, Goodbrook would have a rich crop of bruises by the morrow. It made Argella walk slowly just to watch them. Young Ser Will the Stork fought well as he pushed back Daryn Hornwood. Argella studied him as she often did with the others. He fell into a rhythm, delivering the same strokes in the same order each time he pressed an attack. That will be the undoing of him, the day he faces someone more skilled than him though.

On the edge of the yard, her brother was holding off three foes. Even as they watched, he caught one of them alongside the head, knocking him senseless. "Your brother is very brave and a fine warrior, your grace," Brienne said.

"I have heard him say the same about you," Argella replied. "He said you fought valiantly in the taking of Griffin's Roost, as valiant as any man who fought in it. You were one of the first ones over the walls."

Brienne blushed. "Your brother is too kind. The honour goes to him."

"But you were with him as well that day," Argella said. "Gendry is a great knight. We used to fight with sticks as children. He's always been stronger than me, but I have seen victories against him on some days. He swings a hammer better than me, in truth, though I'm the better with a bow and I have defeated him in races too."

"No one could question her grace's courage," Brienne replied. "I have seen you in battle."

"Won't you call me Argella? Enough with this your grace. I thought we talked about it," said Argella. "Where have you seen me in battle?"

"At the Howling Hill. I rode with your father that day. We won a glorious victory routing and turning back the invaders. Then at Tumbestone. They say you slew Ser Timeon Wyl with an arrow across the mander."

Argella hadn't known the man's name but she knew the shot. He remembered every arrow she ever loosed. "I didn't know about that. I remember that shot though."

They ascended the stone steps to the great hall in a soft silence, not wanting to turn the eyes of everyone in the hall onto them.

Her mother and all the other ladies were housed within the keep of the castle, inside the long sandstone walls of Riverrun to keep them safe from the war. Each morning the ladies gathered to break their fast in the great hall of Riverrun. Outside its tall carved doors stood two guards in fish crested halfhelms and the mud red cloaks edged in blue, the leaping trout of Riverrun sewn on their breasts. Both were tall men and they bowed their heads as Argella passed by them.

They opened the doors, and Septa Mordane who served Riverrun emerged and swept down the short flight of steps to greet them. "Queen Argella," she called, "I'm so pleased you decided to join us today. Be welcome." She looked at Ghost disapprovingly but said nothing.

Argella gave the woman a soft smile. "My mother invited me to join her for breakfast. Where shall I find her?"

"Lady Cersei is breaking her fast with your brother at the raised platform by the far end of the hall."

Joffrey? The thought did not sit well with her. The last thing she needed now was to hear some of her brother's stupid japes at her or her husband. Argella dismissed the Septa, and took Brienne by the hand. "Come Brienne, my mother awaits, and she is not the most patient of ladies."

A fire was crackling in the hearth, and sweet-swelling rushes had been scattered on the floor. Around the long trestle table a dozen women were seated. Almost all of them were from Riverrun and most of them Freys.

Argella recognized only Lady Mylenda Caron the tall, thin wife of Ser Petyr Frey who was three times younger than her. The Septa performed the other introductions as she arrived there. There was Lady Bracken, the handsome, proud wife of Lord Jonos Bracken and her daughters the three Bracken sisters, Catelyn and Bess and Alysanne, all close to Argella's age. Fat Lady Walda was Lord Frey's granddaughter by his son Merrett. Then there was nubile, comely maid who was called as Fair Walda to distinguish herself from her cousins with the same name. Almost all the Frey girls gave her a glare as she passed them to go her mother. It was whispered amongst the ladies that their grandfather Lord Walder had wanted to marry one of them to her husband. Had that happened she would have been free from marriage and this lazy duties of playing queen. Her replacement would be bothered to do all that and Argella wouldn't have mourned for that loss. But instead Andrew had wed her and the Freys looked at her as if it was somehow her doing.

Last of all, she reached her mother at the head of the table. Joffrey sat with her and her maids were nowhere to be seen. "I am sorry that I am late mother. I had Brienne accompany me for this meal."

Her mother looked at Brienne with the same unpleasant look she had for others. "Of course you are queen now," Lady Cersei said, tugging at Ella's wrist with a soft spotted hand. "You can sup with whom ever you want to even if that is your own foolish flock of hens." She sniffed in disapproval. "Or that wolf."

She gave a lazy look at Brienne. "Here, Argella, sit here next to me. I wish to talk with you."

Argella took her bow down, placed it on the table and sat.

The servants brought out a broth of leeks and mushrooms, a bit of boar with crisp skin still dripping with fat. She cut a nice portion of the boar and let it slip to the floor in front of the direwolf. Ghost ripped into the meat in silent savagery. She could only imagine how it might be to see him running through the battlefield. He would give nightmares to even the bravest of men.

"Who dressed you in these poor child's rags?" her mother demanded. "You are a woman now, Argella. A woman and a queen. You should dress and act like one."

Lady Cersei called for the maids and demanded who did that. "I had given you a beautiful gown of gold, sewn with spun gold and woolen stockings and silken shift. Where is the tiara and her necklace of emeralds and sapphires?" By the time she was down the women were pale with fear. They told her mother that she dressed herself, in jerkin and breeches, black and green all on her own. Before his mother could rip further into them Argella cut in. "I choose these clothes myself mother," she said to her mother. "I find them comfortable. I told you I'd marry the King. What more do you expect from me? Do you want me to dance and smell like flowers for him? Do you want me to sing beautifully and play the high harp as well? What do you like me to do?"

"If that's what is expected of you, you should play it," Lady Cersei said simply. She leaned in and whispered so soft that Argella could barely hear her. "I don't want you to be some King's wife and run around his home chasing after his children. I want you to be a queen." She leaned back and raised her tone again. "And you shall be a fine queen indeed."

She fussed at the laces of the jerkin. "You should look a proper young lady first. These child's clothes won't do you any good. You are a woman now and a queen."

I'm not a Queen, Argella wanted to tell her. But she kept silent.

The meal was plain but filling; mutton and mushrooms, brown bread, pease pudding, and baked apples with yellow cheese.

Her mother sipped a bit of wine from her cup. "So now you are a queen. Do you have the least idea of what that means?"

"I can do whatever I want?" Argella pushed her knife into the mutton.

Cersei Lannister gave her daughter a sour smile. "Your wildness is a curse in you," she said. "I see marriage hasn't made you any less wild than you already were. I fear your husband might not take well with that."

"He better," Ella said. Or I might have to make him suit to that.

"You are insufferable," Joffrey scowled. "No wonder your husband runs away from your chambers at the first chance he gets."

"Shut up, Joff," Argella said. "Or would you like for your face to be washed in wine again? Perhaps this pease pudding would make for a good replacement." She grasped her plate which sent Joffrey covering behind mother.

"Enough with you two," said her mother. When the food had been cleared and the servants sent away, Lady Cersei sent for her maid and asked her to bring in Ser Meryn Trant. Brienne excused herself after the meal and so did Joffrey though not so courteously. Argella would have gone with her as well, but her mother insisted that she stay.

"Have you heard anything of the battle?"

The battle. . . Ser Meryn Trant? Argella wondered how long the man has been spying for her mother.

"My lady. Prince Aegon has taken Harrenhal and sits there with a huge army around him. There's also a talk of another army marching into the Riverlands from King's Landing. Some of the lords are urging King Andrew to move against Prince Aegon."

"Did he say where he was bound?" asked her mother.

"His grace never shares his plans. He spends most of his days in the armoury discussing with Lord Robert and the armourers. You'd best know, that there have been some unpleasant skirmishes along the Trident as well. For now the Targaryens are kept on the far side."

Lady Cersei gave him a scornful look. "It wouldn't be that long for it to change."

"The King also sent some of his scouts to Stoney Sept to see if there was any truth about this talk of new army."

Argella squirmed restlessly in her seat. "Did Andrew go with them? Who is this new army?"

Her mother seemed surprised that she'd spoken. "That doesn't concern you. You may leave now."

"No, I want to hear."

Lady Cersei was adamant. "Go on now, Argella. We have to talk without you constantly asking questions about."

Argella stalked away angry, and slammed the door shut behind her as she left. Ghost followed her hot on her heels. She went down to the yard where the ground had been torn up with horse hooves and steel boots alike.

The archers had put up some targets in place of the quintains. Anguy was there practicing with a few other archers. Argella liked Anguy. She had known him from her childhood. Anguy often trained with her. He was closer to her in age than the others in her party, and he told her droll tales of the Dornish Marches and the Dreadfort.

"Ghost, stay," she said and moved over to the target practice.

Lem and Greenbeard were playing tiles on a crate, while Tom Sevenstrings sang a silly song about Big Belly Ben and the High Septon's goose. "Where's Lord Beric and Thoros?" she asked them.

"Lord Beric has gone south with Thoros and Edric and the others." It was Lem who answered her. He must have gone to Stoney Sept, Argella thought remembering Ser Meryn's Trant. She practiced with.

Anguy let Argella try his longbow. He was the best archer she had ever seen and Argella wondered if there was magic in his bow. But she found nothing different about it except that the drawstring was so taut and strong than her own. "You need a lighter bow, milady," the freckled bowman said. "Mine is too strong for you."

"I could still beat you with mine," Argella said.

Anguy just laughed. Argella took her longbow from the ground. She bent the bow and slipped the string into its notches. She was quick as she took an arrow and placed it on her bowstring. She drew on the smallest circle at the center of the target, figuring to give them a shot to talk about. She loosed and the arrow streamed past the yard and found the target. The shaft quivered wildly at the force in which she had loosed it, but before it could even stop another arrow rushed from behind and split through to the wood and steel of the arrow in front and replaced it on the target.

Argella let her bow hang from her hand in a dramatic flair. "How about that?" She could see that her shot had impressed even Anguy. And everyone in the yard had stopped whatever they were doing in shock.

Even Tom stopped his song halfway and put his harp down. "She's good," he said.

"Good?" Lem said, laughing. "More like great."

"Now, let's see what the Archer can do?" Greenbeard exclaimed.

"Come on, Archer," Lem said. "What do you mean to do with all them arrows?"

"I have something new for her grace," Anguy said. He was as skinny as his longbow, if not quite as tall. Red-haired and freckled, he wore his studded brigantine, high boots, fingerless leather gloves, and his quiver on his back. He took three arrows fletched with grey goose feathers, and and planted them in the ground before him, like a little fence.

"I would need that cup, Lem," he asked. Lem downed whatever ale was left in it and threw the cup to him. Argella watched him carefully.

Anguy threw the cup up in the air. The archer's hand moved quicker than Argella would have believed. His shafts went hissing past her head thrice. The first one hit the cup and deflected away from her target. A half smile flickered on her face as she thought he had missed his mark. But then the other two arrows buried themselves in the wooden post behind her. The arrows thrummed behind her like a bee and the cup sat well balanced in between them.

She'd thought that she knew everything there's to know about archery, but now she knew she hadn't. The freckle-faced archer had gotten the better of her. There was nothing else to do but accept it, Argella realized. In time though, she will one day get the better of him. She was sure about it.

"That was. . ." Argella started and stopped. "How did you do that?"

"I have my skills as you do, your grace."

"I will do better than that one day," she said stubbornly and slipped away from the yard as they laughed. "Come on, Ghost." The white wolf bounded off to her heels, jumping past the crate upon which Lem and Greenbeard had set the board and tiles.

The loss soured her mood than it already was and made her angry. It was just a stupid competition, she told herself. She walked down the water stair and to the makeshift dock that lay beyond the portcullis. Beneath her, the swift wild Tumblestone plunged like a spear into the side of the broad Red Fork, its blue-white current churning the muddy red-brown flow of the greater river.

Argella watched from the wooden dock, waiting and watching for something, for anything. She needed something to do after what happened in the yard. Ghost sat down on his haunches beside her as she waited.

She was better at taking fish from streams with her arrows. It was hard, but Argella had done it enough to make it look easy. She was quick in the way she sent the arrow rushing down and pulled it back with a silvery trout wriggling on the end of it. She gave it to Ghost. He finished it off quite easily. Somedays Andrew let him to go hunt. The direwolf vanished most every night as the sun went down, but he was always back again before dawn, most often with a bloodied muzzle which was the only remnant of his kill.

Today Ghost was happy to let her do the hunting though. He even jumped into the water to pick up the fish she had got for him.

"That's something you don't normally see," a voice said from behind just as Ghost shook his thick white coat to dry himself off the water.

Argella turned to see her husband standing there in his white woolen jacket and brown pants. "What's that?"

"Direwolf swimming in the river," he said and walked over to her. "What are you doing here?" Andrew patted the direwolf's head and Ghost licked at his hand and sat down beside his bounty.

"Just catching some fish."

"We are not running out of fish, my Lady," Andrew told her. "You could find some in the kitchens if you want."

"I want to catch them," Ella said and loosed another arrow. She missed this one, the first one of the day. "You distracted me."

"I didn't distract you. You were not paying attention."

"And how would you know about that?" She lifted her head to look at him.

"I just know." Andrew looked back at his direwolf. "Come on Ghost." He turned around and walked away from the gate.

"Wait," Argella said picking up her arrows and quiver. "Where are you going?"

"To the godswood."

She ran after him and they walked together past the courtyard to the godswood. When they get to the gate to the godswood Argella leaned against the frame, not blocking his entrance completely but enough to make him stop. "So you want to tell me how do you know I was distracted and it wasn't your fault?"

Andrew raised his eyebrows at her. "Why am I at fault here?"

"Because I only missed after you arrived," Argella said.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I. . ." She had heard him walk down the stairs. But she wouldn't tell him that.

Andrew picked up on her hesitation. "Because you were not paying attention to what you were doing."

Argella shook her head. "What are you going to do in the godswood?"

"Nothing," Andrew said. But she knew that there was something.

"Can I accompany you, your grace?" Argella asked. She would follow him anyway though whether he agreed or not.

"I don't think you need my approval for that, my lady," Andrew said. That made her smile. They passed through the small door which led to the godswood. The air was cool and windy in the godswood of Riverrun and Argella gets a clear look at the beauty of the place that she had missed on the evening she had married Andrew.

She walked with her husband to the center of the godswood where stood the heart tree, a lean bony white thing with red sap flowing down it's carven eyes and mouth. Argella looked straight down into those eyes. It was strange gazing upon these northern gods. She had seen weirwoods before. There was one in Storm's End, a huge monstrosity that would dwarf this one.

"I hope you did not come here to see this tree," Argella said.

He looked as if he had come there to watch the tree however. "I saw your archery contest with Anguy, my lady," Andrew said turning around to face her. "You were really good with your bow. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

He's asking for an explanation, and Ella was almost tempted to give him one. He was her husband now. And there ought to be no secrets in between them. If I tell him about it and her liking to hunt and ride and fight, somehow that might smooth things up between them. Maybe sharing something like that might bring them closer. . . Or he might put an end to it. Argella wondered if she should tell him about it. It wouldn't hurt her in any way. If her mother couldn't stop her then surely he couldn't as well.

"In Storm's End," Argella admitted. "I used to train with my father's archers in the archery range. When my father saw that I had enough skill to outshoot men twice my age he allowed me to continue with it. I learned to ride as well. I could beat everyone in Storm's End in a race."

"Your father made the right decision allowing you to do that," Andrew said.

Ella was pleasantly surprised at that. She had thought him to be disappointed about it. She remembered the words of her mother. Men wanted their wives to be look pretty, smell sweet and smile brightly. No one would want a stable girl for a wife. Andrew didn't look like he disapproved of that.

"You are not bitter about it?" she asked him, curious.

Andrew shook his head. "My mother loved to ride," he said. "She could even outrace my father."

"I have won races," Ella said. "And I won my knighthood from my father for collecting all the apples from the tree in the woods around Storm's End.

Andrew smiled. Argella screwed up her face knowing that he did not believe her. "You don't believe me?" she asked, impatiently. When he wouldn't answer she reached for her arrow and drew it at him. She lined up the bodkin tip at his chest but then raised it up at the pears hanging high on the branches of the tree behind him. A bunch fell to her arrow and she lowered her bow.

Andrew looked down at the pears. "Impressive."

He didn't look so impressed. "Think you can do better."

Andrew looked at her. He turned back to the tree and then he was over the side of the rock in front of it and jumped onto the next one and then another. He was quick and light on his feet as he skipped over the rocks. He caught the branch that was almost ten feet off the ground, climbing up as quick and graceful as a cat. Before long he was there at the branch from where she had gotten the pears. He pulled a couple more and threw it down at her feet. He jumped off the branch and landed on one knee.

She had never seen someone so agile and quick and graceful on their feet ever before. Neither did she think she would ever meet one who could do what her husband had done just now. "How did you climb up so fast?"

Andrew stood up and patted off the dirt in his hand as if nothing had happened. "You don't know a lot of things about me, my lady." He smiled, a smile heavy with sadness.

I would if only you could tell me about it. She could see that he was hiding a lot of things from his past. Argella wondered what he could be hiding. She wanted to ask, but kept silent and instead said, "I was faster though."

Andrew looked back. "And you lost an arrow in return for a fruit."

That did sound like a big price to pay for something so small. "If I'd possessed the skill of a squirrel I might have climbed up there myself."

"Why did you learn to fight, my lady?"

Why did she learn to fight? No one had asked her that before. Even she didn't remember why. All she remembered was that one day she wanted to do what her brother did. She had loved swordfighting and practiced it with her brother. When she saw the archers and how good the arrows were she realized she want to learn that as well. I'm going to learn to shoot a bow, she had thought as a child. And here she was now. "I don't know," Argella admitted. "I just wanted to. I never learned the lance or the sword. I used to practice with Gendry using sticks when we were children but we never did more than that."

"You look like you could wield a sword nicely," Andrew said.

She didn't know why but that made her feel happy for some reason. "The men say you are the finest swordsman who'd ever lived, my lord," she told him.

"Men say a lot of things, my lady-"

"You killed a dragon though," Argella said. "You must be pretty good. Would you like to teach me some of your skills, your grace?" She didn't know if he was surprised or shocked at her request. But the sweet look on his face just made her smile in a way she hadn't done since her wedding.