Chapter 30: Waking the Dragon

If there was any chance the city of Lys would quiet down at night, one stroll through it after dark would disabuse the notion. It was in revelry, in fact almost more busy than while the sun was up. Tens of thousands from all over the world crowded into its taverns and brothels, from wealthy tourists to tired sailors after spending moons at sea. Dany couldn't count how many drunken revelers that she passed - of both sexes.

Dany curled her lip in disgust. "So uncivilized."

Shienna laughed, escorting her charge through the streets. "Certainly you've seen such things."

"I have, but never to this degree."

"It's Lys, the city of pleasure. Halfway between Valyria and the trade ports of southern Westeros, founded as a pleasure colony and the nature stuck… certainly I enjoyed my time here, at least the first one."

Unable not to chuckle at that, Dany looked up at her. Normally she'd have approached her goodsisters - or perhaps Lady Dacey - none were available, but Lady Shienna was. "My Lady?"

"Kessa?"

"How do you know… if you're in love with someone?"

Shienna frowned pensively, stroking her chin. "That… is a heady question. One I truly cannot answer definitively since love is different for so many people. At least for me, it was that whenever I spent time away from Baelgor, I felt a little piece of me was missing."

"You only felt whole when with him?"

"Aye. Do you feel that way with your nephew?"

"Actually…" Her eyes widened. "My nephew?"

Shienna smirked. "I am no fool, my Lady… or should I say your Grace?" Dany bit her lip, to which Lady Aekylosh shook her head. "No, my Lady."

Dany smiled. "Thank you." Their own inn appeared as they turned the corner. "And to tell the truth, it isn't just him. It's," she bit her lip. "Her as well."

"Hmmm… I wouldn't know about that, but I know of that sort. It's generally the same, and not much of an issue to Valyrians."

"Truly?"

"There was always an imbalance between men and women in Old Valyria. The surviving texts never said why, but it caused the trend towards polygamy. Unlike what the Faith of the Seven taught, we're not debased sinners."

"Good to know." They entered the inn, greeted by the warm atmosphere tainted with cheap perfume. "So, what is your plan this evening? Care to share some dinner with me, Lady Shienna?" Dany had to offer, and truly even given her plans, spending more time with the heir to one of the great families of Valyria wasn't such a damning thing.

However… "I must draw a bath for myself, my Lady." Shienna stretched. "All of that always leaves me filled with knots in the muscles. I always bathe after my conjuring… though that could just be the soot that stains the hands and arms."

"I have no soot."

"Then you didn't train hard enough." Shienna tousled her hair and headed off.

Well… once I'm in the Red Keep I shall be training hard. In any case, she had the evening to herself. Some time with Jon and Sansa, as well as a bottle of Tyroshi pear brandy. It's what her brother and goodsisters always drank before they headed back to their chambers giggling. "Perhaps it could end with something good." She could try some of the things she learned from her peeping adventures.

Thinking of Sansa with them… he hoped her flush wasn't obvious. Jon and Sansa were likely upstairs, but if Missy were here…

Look though she did, Missandei wasn't in the tavern. Odd, given this was her post at that time of night. "Perhaps she's with them already upstairs?" she whispered to herself. They could've started without her - if they guzzled through most of the pear brandy she would have a fit…

The appearance of Sansa breezing down the stairs cut off her thoughts, Dany's eyes widening. Red locks flowing behind her, there was a tiny catch in the back of her throat. Has she always looked like that? Pretty? Her thoughts and visions, the memory of the women in the brothel, arms thrown about each other in the throes of passion, she saw Sansa with new eyes.

"Larra." When Sansa hugged her, it drew Dany from her thoughts yet again. "You're back."

A snort. "Was I gone long?"

"A little," Sansa giggled. "How'd it go?"

"Made a flame… exhausted myself though."

"Mmm, my fire maege." Sansa beamed at her, which Dany found quite welcome. Different than Jon's grins, but in a good manner.

"I'll tell you and Missy all about it together. Where is Missy by the way?"

Sansa blinked. "She's not here?"

Brows furrowing, Dany peeked over Sansa's shoulder. "She's not with you?"

"Haven't seen her since before sunset." Tapping on the counter, Sansa called out to the lone bartender, his collar slumped as he cleaned the mugs. "Do you eat where Missandei chicken?" Dany's eyes widened.

The bartender looked up. "Alright, mistress, alright."

Sansa grew irritated. "Tell me ship Missandei rowing!"

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Daenerys pressed her hands on her shoulder. "Please, let me before he gets more confused." Sansa peered at her for a moment before realizing. Cheeks flushing red in a blush. Dany giggled some more, finding her adorable. "Excuse me, where is Missandei?"

"Oh." The bartender suddenly winced. "Sold."

Dany blinked. "What?"

"She was sold a few hours ago. I don't know where."

It was as if Syrax had slammed her tail into Dany. Her blood ran cold, stumbling back as she grabbed the banister of the bartop. "I'm sorry… sold?"

"Aye." He nodded, though hunching over as if trying to look inconspicuous. "Her new master dragged her out. She was crying." Dany's heart clenched in pain.

"What, what happened?" Sansa clearly couldn't follow, but knew something was the matter.

Daenerys swallowed. "Missy's been sold."

"What?!" Sansa gasped. "Who did it?!" Shocking Dany, she grabbed the bartender by his apron and slammed him against the counter. "Who?!" The wolf had come out to play.

"I don't know, mistress! I don't know!"

While the red direwolf was… a bit of a marvel, Dany knew this would be dangerous. "He doesn't know," Dany pleaded her. "Please, we can't make a scene." Sansa reluctantly let the bartender go as Dany pulled her away.

Luckily, Jon was alone in their chambers - well, Althor and Baelgora were fast asleep while he read by candlelight. "What's wrong?" Dany gestured to him to come out into the hallway, which he did. "Did something happen?"

"Missy was sold."

"Sold?" Jon's eyes widened. "Oh gods."

"What are we gonna do?" Dany asked, a tear falling down her eye. "She could be anywhere, and the only person who knows is the proprietor."

"Only way is to ask her, but she won't tell us," Jon remarked, crossing his arms.

"I know how she'll spill." Eyes darkened, Sansa looked… transformed. As fierce as the wolf she was… or perhaps a dragon. "She just needs an incentive." Pushing open the door a crack, immediately three furry heads creened upward, as if called to by her.

Blinking, Dany's sadness changed in an instant. If the wolf had come to play, the dragon had also been awoken. "Let's do this, then."

"Val called this?"

"Aye." Tormund met Ygritte's gaze as they stood within the milling council of chiefs within the largest tent in the camp. "Hang back."

Ygritte blinked. "Why?"

"This is gonna be a big one, and while I have the standing to take it you don't… and I know you." Frowning, nevertheless Ygritte agreed to stand back and allow the others to discuss the matters of import.

Tormund turned out to be right, for the discussion was only one topic and one topic only - a topic that Ygritte felt strongly about. Rhaenys Targaryen.

"Don't tell me you're intimidated by her," Val sneered. She is naturally intimidating. Ygritte had seen it first hand, which was one of the reasons she was so drawn to the fiery Targaryen, but the nature of the insult was one that would raise doubts in Mance's leadership - which was already strained given the defeat. Rhaenys was their only success in the effort, and if Mance wasn't willing to use her…

He'd be overthrown. Val would likely wish to be the one to succeed him. "I don't explain myself to you, goodsister."

Val smirked. "You are intimidated by that girl."

"I'm intimidated by her dragon," Tormund grunted, not rising and not even looking at anything but the jerky he was gnawing on. "But what do I know? Least if I die I'll die being warm." Arms folded,Ygritte joined the gathered chiefs and warriors in laugher. Herself's was a mere chuckle, while the others varied with snickers to loud, barking chortles. Leave it to Tormund.

As for Val, her cheeks reddened. Of course she couldn't take a jape. "Tell me, Tormund, where is the dragon? Fuck, where are both dragons since the bitch's grandmother is now here, and she is a dragonrider as well."

"Think they'd risk burning their Princess?" asked Karsi, a sentiment many others nodded in agreement to. That's what Rhaenys told me. Ygritte knew it was a well-crafted lie, but perhaps the others would buy it.

"Which is why we're keeping her close to the center of our camp," Mance stated. "They know she's here, so they will not attack."

Val nodded, a smile forming on her face. One that unsettled Ygritte. "That is a smart strategy, goodbrother… but unnecessary."

"The fuck you talking about, Val?" the Lord of Bones asked.

"I'll tell you. The dragon cunt cannot burn - she gets it from her father, the southern King. Even we know of how he walked out of the fire with a dragon on his shoulder… and how the bitch's grandmother, brother, and aunt hatched their own dragons in the fire. Targaryens cannot burn."

Ygritte hung her head. If they believed her, then things would get far harder for Rhaenys. And no one was worried about thrusting a torch into Rhae's skin to test Val's contention.

But if she thought it couldn't get worse, then it did. "Besides, the dragons can't come south of the Wall." Before anyone could call her out on the assertion, Val stepped towards Mance. She was shorter than him, but compared to the tired King she looked akin to a giant. "You come from the South. Don't you know the story of the Good Queen Alysanne?"

Many blinked, Ygritte included. The story was lost on her as it was for nearly all present. However, watching Mance, there was no denying the recognition on his face - and the hallow embarrassment at forgetting the tale. "Is that some Targaryen Queen?" asked Karsi.

Val nodded. "My ancestor was at the Wall at the time a Targaryen dragon arrived at the Wall centuries ago. It's a tale my family has passed down and I remembered it well… I'm sure it's told far more in the South. Is that right, your Grace?"

All listened intently, especially Ygritte, until finally Mance rose and spoke - staring into the fire. "Queen Alysanne Targaryen was the most beloved of all the Targaryen Queens, and one year early in her reign she sought to visit the Starks… and as part of that, she wished to see our home."

"Go on then, tell them what happened," Val demanded.

Ygritte wanted Mance to tell her to go fuck herself - even the curious chiefs would've respected him for that - but he chose to continue. Ceding the initiative to his goodsister. You're playing with a blizzard, Mance. "She flew her dragon Silverwing to the Wall… but Silverwing refused to cross." His expression was grim as he looked to all. "No one in the South knows why, but when I joined the Free Folk I realized quite soon why the dragon refused to fly."

"The same reason the other dragons cannot come to us," Val shouted, raising her fists. "We are free from fire. Indestructible against them if we fight with cunning… and the bitch no longer is untouchable."

Rising, Styr of the Thenns drew a dagger. "I say we cut off her fingers one by one and send them to Castle Black."

"Sit down, you cunt," Tormund barked back. "You think they'd take that well?"

"What are they gonna do about it? Charge into the blizzard after us?" Styr laughed. "A feast for my men."

"You're not doing that, Styr." Mance stared him down.

"Or what?" Styr approached him, challenging Mance's authority. "Gonna kill me?"

Mance's eyes narrowed. "Don't give me the idea."

A savage grin. "I'd like to see you try."

"Put your cocks away," Val mocked, pushing them apart. "I said we can touch her, not further inflame the dragons… what we need to do is force them to realize her situation. Force them to know just how deep in the hole they are… or rather how deep the Princess is given their silly superstitions."

"Tell us!"

"Yeah, Val, spill!"

"Tell us, damn you!"

Something made Ygritte take a step towards the tent flap, wishing to leave lest she hear something that would cause her to act rashly. Seated and outwardly placid, Tormund suddenly met her eyes and shook his head imperceptibly. Stilling Ygritte where she stood.

Clearing her throat, Val looked out at everyone. Clearly relishing her moment in the sun. "The King Beyond the Wall Bael the Bard - as they call him in the South - he humiliated the then King of Winter by taking his daughter and seeding her with his babe. If our King had the stones, he'd do the same to Rhaenys."

It wasn't Ygritte who said it, but Karsi mirrored the inner horror that coursed through the spearwife. "You mean you'd have her raped?! Are you some beastly savage?"

A snort. "We're all savages to them."

"Aye," Styr chortled. "Mayhaps she'll learn to appreciate a proper cock and beg not to leave." Some of the bawdier chiefs cheered at that. "If Mance is not up to it, I volunteer to give her a good fucking."

"You'll do no such thing," Mance growled. "Are you hearing yourself, woman?!" he bellowed at her, the normally quiet and self-deprecating King Beyond the Wall having been pushed to his limit. "You would have me rape and seed a girl who is the daughter of the Targaryen King?"

The answer was quick and confident. "Yes."

For the longest time both he and Val simply glared at each other, a tense standoff that found Ygritte's stomach churning. Face her down… please. Ygritte had saved Rhaenys once from being raped, and in this moment her heart lurched. Clenched. Warned long ago, cautioned by many of her comrades and friends - especially Tormund - the truth that she had bonded with the captive simply came to mind.

A fierce spearwife and warrior. Of course she would be drawn to someone of such similar strength. She'd had three lovers of that nature, two powerful warriors and another spearwife. Each of them were skilled fighters and hunters, Ruggar perishing against a bear, Gottik from fever, and Sela dying in a skirmish with the crows. Ygritte cherished their memories, but even accounting for their deaths and her survival… Rhaenys Targaryen surpassed them all.

In beauty and in ferocity.

Was it enough to commit treason? She was no betrayer, and her people were all she knew.

But the converse raised its head. If Val took over from Mance, would the Free Folk still be free? The woman's rage and cunning and brutality left her akin to the southern tyrants all the legends spoke of. While few saw it, Ygritte did clearly. This was the turning point for the Free Folk whether it seemed so or not.

And in a simple sigh, the choice was made. "Everyone out," Mance stated. "I wish to speak to my goodsister alone."

Simple words, but the meaning was clear. Mance had folded - whether he remained King or not, Val was now the one truly in charge and from her smile of triumph, she knew it too.

Feeling like she wished to vomit, Ygritte found Tormund's eyes again. This time, the ginger warrior nodded, met back by a nod from Ygritte.

Permission granted.

"Alright, we're ready?"

"Ready."

"Let's do this."

Taking a deep breath, Sansa nodded. Her cousin and best friend were both armed, and their direwolves waited for the right moment to follow. Scowling, she grabbed the latch of the door and threw it open as abruptly as possible.

Yelping, it seemed as if Mistress Caelia jumped. A sack was on her desk, and it was filled with gold coins. Blood money from selling Missy. "The fuck are you doing?! You can't be here!"

"Where's Missandei?" Dany asked, her tone not at all friendly. Not like how she addressed Sansa, voice so musical it made the Stark girl want to swoon.

At that, Caelia chuckled. "I'm sorry, but she's been sold. That's just the way it is."

"Just the way it is?" Dany's nostrils flared. "She's a person! Not a goat! You had no right to treat her as chattel!"

"I had every right." Fists clenching, Sansa motioned for the direwolves to enter. "You high and mighty Westerosi think you're so much…" She trailed off as the direwolves entered the solar. "The fuck are these fleabags? How'd they get here?" Turned out, the slaves did not take kindly to one of their most favorite comrades being sold like nothing. As the three of them and their wolves headed for Caelia's solar, they made themselves scarce or pretended not to notice. "Whatever, get the fuck out of my solar…"

"Moonlight," Dany spoke. "Go." The wolf started barking, frothing at her snout and causing Caelia to jump back. She tried to stick behind her desk but Moonlight drove her around. To the front where she tripped, falling on the floor.

"Tell us where she is, then," Sansa said, her voice even. Truly, the Stark was surprised that she sounded so much like her mother did when threatening northern lords or recalcitrant visitors that arose the ire of House Stark - but she found out it thrilled her. Who better for her to be than Cersei Stark, the Lioness of the North? "Your life would be much easier if you did, and it isn't you that would end in losing everything when we go to free her."

Caelia, blinking, suddenly laughed. "Free her? You stupid brats, if she's not being molested by her new master by now I'd be very…"

Sansa cut her off. "Lady, finger."

There was nothing but calm in her voice. The snarling rage was reserved for her direwolf. Normally the sweetest and most proper of Sprinter's litter, in an instant Lady transformed into a walking nightmare. Leaping, she fell on Caelia's chest and bit her hand. The mistress of the brothel screamed as razor sharp teeth sheared off her index finger on her left hand. With a gulp, it disappeared down her gullet.

The wolf trundled back to Sansa. "Good girl," she murmured, ruffling her fur.

Screams turning to agonized wails, Caelia clutched at her left hand - the appendage was bleeding profusely. "You bitch!"

"Bitch? You call her a bitch?" Baelon asked. Ghost was silent, but with blood red eyes and a ferocious maw, his snarl made Lady's look like nothing. "Shall I have Ghost take your hand."

"Please… mercy…" Rage had quickly turned to fear and a pathetic sobbing. "Spare me…"

Daenerys shook her head. "Pathetic."

A serene smile upon her face, Sansa approached Caelia and knelt. "See, Lady is normally the sweetest little pup. Ghost and Moonlight on the other hand, we've raised them on human flesh." Caelia's eyes widened. "Gutter trash and corpses mostly, to get them used to the taste. Most wolves and animals don't right like the taste of it, but they enjoy it." Still snarling, his fur risen in a hostile pose, Moonlight stalked next to her brother. Same snarl, yellow eyes only slightly less menacing than Ghost's red. "It's easier that way, for them to rip through anyone that stands in our way." She was making this up as she went along, but Sansa knew her mother would be so proud of how easily she lied.

"And that shall include you if you don't tell us where Missandei is," Jon growled.

"This is pointless." Dany drew a dagger from the folds of her dress. "I say we just start cutting until she talks."

"No!"

"She's right," Jon replied behind Sansa. "Our boy and girls are hungry, and the Lysene cuisine is just lovely."

Sansa sighed. "Alright. We'll start with her feet…"

"Alright! I'll talk!" Caelia was shaking like a leaf, and the pungent scent of urine eliminated from between her legs. Dress dampening in a dark stain. "I sold her to a Good Master."

Behind Sansa, Dany gasped. "The Good Masters of Astapor."

"You know them?" Sansa asked.

"The most notorious slavers in the world," Dany said, her voice hollow. "And the most brutal. Everyone from Volantis to Lys to all of Slaver's Bay buys from them."

Jon spat on the ground. "Undoubtedly 'Good' Master was an ironic appellation. Either that or they're pathological liars." He drew his sword, leveling it at their captive's throat. "Who took Missy? I want his name."

Hands clasped together in desperate pleading, drenched in blood from her fingerstump, Caelia nodded. "His name is Kraznys mo Nakloz, chief of the princes of the city."

"Ah fuck," Sansa ran a hand through her hair. "It'll be hard to buy her back… and hard to just kill him and take her."

"I say we take off her head," Jon growled.

"No, let the wolves have her," Dany hissed. Again, Caelia whimpered, begging for her life.

Sansa hated her. Looked upon her with disgust, but shook her head. "No, that's too good for her." Fists clenching, she met eyes with Jon. "Hand."

"What?"

But Jon understood. With a flick of his wrist, Caelia's right hand disappeared. Sliced off by the swing of his sword. She screamed again, whining and snot and tears coating her face as she hunched over. "Ghost, Moonlight…" The direwolves lunged at the hand, ripping it apart into chunks that they then swallowed. "Not the hand Lady mutilated earlier, good choice."

Sansa beamed at him. "Thank you." Eyeing the sack of gold coins - some gold dragons bearing Rhaegar's face and others of foreign origin - Sansa stepped over the blood and snatched it up. "We'll be taking this. Consider it mercy that we're sparing your worthless life."

"I'll have you all killed for this!" Caelia snarled.

Dany walked up and bashed her on the head, knocking her unconscious. "Good luck with that." She pursed her lips, looking to Sansa. "Gonna be hard, getting to Astapor."

"Seven Hells, it's gonna be hard trying to leave here. She's gonna wake up and not take this lightly… and damn, we're gonna have to face Arthur and Shienna."

Eyes flickering from Caelia and to her companions, Sansa shrugged. "Too late to do anything different. Only one course to take - forward."

Dany nodded. "If we look back, we are lost."

Jon's expression grew brooding. "If we look back, we're dead." Blunt.

Lightning crackled outside the window of the bedchamber. The servants had closed the shutters in preparation but if anything, it made the resulting thunderclap even more sudden and scary. Eleven namedays, Princess Rhaenys was not scared. She wasn't scared… She was a little scared, turning in her bed for the fifth time as she drew the covers up to her chin.

Damn rain. Damn lightning. Her beautiful Nymerion roared like anything but it never scared her.

"Rhae?"

Eyes blinking open, for a moment Rhaenys thought she was just hearing things before finally turning and seeing a shape illuminated by the torchlight outside. "J… Jon?"

"Yeah," murmured her eight-nameday old brother. "Can I come in?"

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Sitting up a bit and rubbing her eyes, Rhaenys saw him nod, biting his lip. A sigh, followed by a small smile. Crown Prince though he was, her valonqar was such an innocent soul. "Hop in the bed with me." She patted the covers next to her. "Big sister will protect you."

Eagerly Jon climbed in the bed and disappeared under the covers - only reemerging wedged in Rhaenys' embrace and snuggling with her. "You're warm, Rhae."

"I am a dragon, valonqar," she chuckled, only for them to settle down as the warmth and the comfort each other gave began to take effect. Rhaenys liked it. "Lightning scares you, Jon?"

He shook his head. "Dreams."

"Dreams?" she murmured, curious but so damn sleepy.

"Blue-eyed things, dark shadows. The shadows tell me I should've died years ago. The blue things just scream."

Rhae bit her lip. She knew what it referred to, at least somewhat. Her munas were very reluctant to talk about it - so instead she just hugged him closer. "Don't worry. If it comes to it, I'll protect you."

"You will?"

She kissed his forehead. "Of course… I'm your sister. I'll always protect you, no matter what."

He sighed happily, yawning. "I love you, Rhae."

Rhaenys smiled back, sleep taking hold of her. "I love you, Jon."

The warmth of the memory upon which her dreams mercifully subjected her to was sharply taken away as Rhaenys was kicked in the arse, sent sprawling from her furs. "The fuck…?!"

"Shhh!" came the rasping voice… it came from Ygritte, who was dressed tightly in a fur and sealskin parka. A pack and bow were slung over her shoulder. "Get up, we gotta go."

"The camp is moving?" Rubbing her eyes, in her haze she noticed Nysar tense. As if on guard. "What's going on?"

'You know bout Bael the Bard?" Ygritte was grabbing daggers and a sword.

Rhaenys' blood suddenly went cold. "The one who kidnapped the King of Winter's daughter?"

"Val wants Mance to do that to you… and has figured out your dragons can't come to the True North." She tossed a pack and handed the blade to Rhaenys. "So I'm getting you out of here before you're raped."

Standing there, she took the offered pack and blade but stared at Ygritte. "Why are you doing this?"

A scowl. "I could've left that fuck to kill you and rape you, but… not even a fucking southerner deserves that." She shrugged. "Besides, I don't want to be here when Val slits Mance's throat and takes over." Rhaenys left with two separate justifications on Ygritte's perspective, one rational, the other…

Maybe she just wanted to save Rhaenys cause she was fond of her?

"Gonna gawk or are we gonna go?"

Rhaenys made the decision in a split-second. "Nysar, with me." The direwolf wagged her tail.

Outside, a blizzard howled. Rhae couldn't see ten feet in front of her, sending a command to her wolf to go scout ahead. "We gotta reach the western edge of the camp and then slip out," Ygritte whispered harshly. "If I can make it to the mountains…"

When she cut off, Rhaenys thought it was someone coming. Granted, the assumption was correct… but not completely. When she turned, the Princess was faced with a knife to her throat. "Well, well…" The Lord of Bones' eyes looked hungrily into her. "I see we have a traitor."

"I've been told by Mance to bring her to his tent, you fuck," hissed Ygritte, subdued by two men.

"That's odd, cause I was told by Lady Val to watch you in case you were gonna try and break the dragon out, and she was right." Beneath his bone mask, he cackled, throwing Rhaenys into the snow. "Tie them up, then we're going on a little trip."

At the very least, Rhae's bound hands were let in front rather than behind her back. It made shuffling in the snow a lot easier. Her mind searched for Nysar, but the wolf was nowhere to be seen. Hide girl… till the right time. She prayed that her wolf heard her.

By some sick irony, they marched to the western edge of the camp, snow even deeper and wind howling with more ferocity. "Was gonna bring you to Val, but she said to just kill ya' and be done with it."

"Kill her and you lose all leverage!" Ygritte was snarling.

"I'm killing you, bitch. She… she I'll just put mi' babe in instead."

"Don't you fucking dare!" It was Ygritte that said that, squirming. Rhaenys was merely silent, eyes wide as she was shoved to her knees.

The Lord of Bones snorted. "Be done with it." One of his men drew his sword while the other two watched.

Rhaenys locked eyes with Ygritte, and nodded imperceptibly. The Wildling tightened her lips. "How many times have I saved you fucks?"

"Shut up!"

"At least kill me like a warrior. Don't chop my head off like I'm some rapist." Looking at the Lord of Bones, the man snorted himself and nodded. His man took the sword and raised it vertically right above the neck, ready to sever the spine and kill Ygritte cleanly. An intake of breath, ready to strike.

In an instant Ygritte reared back, smashing her head against the wildling's stomach and sending him barrelling over. She grabbed the blade as it fell, bashing the hilt against the Lord of Bones as he lurched forward, sending him back.

Both other warriors attempted to go after her, only for one of them to disappear as a grey shape leapt out of the void and tore into him with naught but a scream disappeared in the wind. The other hesitated, allowing Rhaenys to smash her shoulder into his knee from the side. She heard his tendons tear from the sharp attack, grabbing his blade just as Ygritte slammed her sword into her attacker's neck.

Snarling, Rhaenys drew out the bronze sword, hot blood splattering on her furs and olive skin. Her mittens were sliced up but protected her hand from the sharp blade, tossing it in the air and catching the hilt even with her bound wrists, turning so she could face the Lord of Bones. He had recovered from Ygritte's blow and was grabbing for his own sword… which just so happened to be the one Rhaenys had been relieved of upon her capture.

His eyes beneath the bone mask blazed fury. "I'll rape your corpse, dragon bitch!" he bellowed, going for the sword…

Only for it to not budge. Another tug, nothing. Rhaenys smirked darkly, a lesson of her uncle Ned's coming to mind. "The frost."

Suddenly his eyes went wide with fear.

"Sometimes it makes the blade stick." Screaming at the top of her lungs, she sliced with her own blade right through the bone of his mask.

"Got em?!" she heard a very out of breath but very much alive Ygritte call out to her.

"Aye, cunt's finally dead." A Valyrian steel sword or proper castle-forged scimitar would've sliced the face off, but this wildling crude blade just made it a pulpy mess. Worked for her.

"Good, fucking rapist."

Rhaenys cut the restraints and dropped the crude device, going for her sword back. "I missed this." A sharp tug brought the belt loose, and she affixed it to her waist. Turning, she saw Ygritte with a spear and her bow and quiver. "Take it you're ready." Nysar bounded up to Rhae and the Princess rubbed her blood-drenched snout. "I know you're ready." The direwolf licked her snout, mewling.

Ygritte chuckled at the wolf, but her expression grew serious. "Lord of Bones'll be missed. We better hurry, then."

A nod. "Aye." Pulling her hood back up, Rhaenys clicked her tongue. "Lead the way, girl, we'll follow." Nysar barked once and then took off in the snow away from the camp. Meeting Ygritte's gaze, the two shared a smirk before trudging off after her.