Chapter 41: Coldness of the North

"Open the gate!"

Horses were… interesting beasts. Ygritte understood why the crows ride them now, as her feet enjoyed not having to hump it all the way from the Wolfswood to Winterfell with a deer carcass strapped to the back of the saddle. Sure, her thighs chafed, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

A little bit of discomfort would help her stay of the Free Folk. Not allow her to fall completely southern as the woolen dress she wore over her riding trousers. It was so… feminine and dainty. Ygritte would hate it if not for Rhaenys' lustful glare upon her wearing it.

She wanted to look delicious for her lover.

Putting the thoughts from her mind for now - not that they were ever far - Ygritte rode to right in front of the kitchens. Remembering what Rhaenys taught her and swung her slight frame from the saddle and landed on the cobblestones below. Knees bent, her feet still feeling the hard landing within her boots. A little girl was cleaning a bowl outside of it. "Turnip," Ygritte called out.

Turnip, the cook's daughter and a scampy little thing, jumped at Ygritte's voice. A slight fear was in her gaze, but at seeing the carcass upon the horse and a gentle smile on the older girl's face, she relaxed. "Brought another one, mi'Lady?"

Lady Ygritte. Being the unofficial paramour of the Princess, Ygritte would just need to get used to it. "Aye, I do. Best fetch your father."

The girl didn't need to, for Gage emerged not a moment later in his blood-splattered apron. "Turnip," he said, eyeing Ygritte suspiciously. "Go back inside."

"It's stuffy inside, papa."

"Just go." Turnip groaned but obeyed, while Ygritte put on a mask. With an ale belly, Gage was kinder than most due to Ygritte's constant refilling of his meat stocks even in winter, but that kindness still wasn't much. "Nice deer," he said. "Wasn't fawning, right?"

Ygritte let the subtle insult go. "We don't kill fawning does, same as you.

"Right." He pursed his lips. "Well, Lady Cersei loves Venison so I'll save the pork for the guards. They'll be glad for fresh meat rather than salted. Thank you, Yigritte."

"Of course, happy to be of help." She curtsied, to which Gage nodded. It was true, she was happy to be of use in something real, like hunting. Sewing and knitting were the work of the weaver women who couldn't handle a spear or bow.

Once the carcass was carried off by the cook's assistants, Ygritte brought her horse back to the stables. The stablehands had none of Gage's tolerance and openly affixed her with deathly glares. Ones she returned, but silently. Not poking the bear as she normally would've.

Any walk through the grounds of the great keep only proved why. Nine out of ten within Winterfell gave her similar glares. Ones of loathing, of not so secret murderous inclinations. Guards grudgingly gave her deference, servants served her with scowls, and children avoided her. Only the not so secret fact that she resided in the bedchamber of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen - beloved in the North as much as her distant ancestor Alysanne - kept their hostile desires as just that. Desires.

That didn't make it any easier for her. While planning on practicing her archery, the glares were particularly heavy from the guards in the training yard, so she briskly headed for the keep and her one refuge.

Her chambers - technically Rhaenys' chambers, for Lady Cersei had offered to place her in her own quarters only for Rhaenys to have her belongings placed in hers, not that Ygritte minded - were empty. Rhaenys was busy on her duties, she assumed. A shrug, Ygritte laying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Unlike in the free folk camps there was so much idle time for the southern highborns. Even a moment laying upon the bed was enough to drive her mad.

So she thought. And reflected. Did Ygritte regret coming south with Rhaenys?

A hint of the Princess' scent wafted off the pillow. Ygritte took a sniff, bringing back pleasant memories of waking up in the fierce warrior's arms that morning. No, she didn't regret anything about it.

But her treatment here was not ideal. Closing her eyes, Ygritte reviewed all of it so far. Lady Cersei was polite, while Lady Margaery, Arya, Bran, and Tommen liked her. Lord Stark was polite, as was Ser Benjen. Lady Joanna and young Rickard ignored her, while there was one Stark that joined the rest of the household in loathing her very presence…

"Since you're not naked," came a light, musical voice in an exotic accent. "I don't think you were waiting for me."

Opening her eyes - apparently she had dozed off - Ygritte found Rhaenys staring down at her in training leathers. A sight that made the true northerner laugh. "Ye know me too well." She stretched, easing herself upright while Rhae drank from a gourd of ale. "Just got back from a hunt, wanted some time to rest."

Rhae eyed her suspiciously. "From how Maester Luwin talks of your lessons, why didn't you read some of the books I got you?"

Ygritte knew the stack of books on Targaryen history and the great houses of the realm borrowed from the library. "I'll get to it, still not the best at readin'." She rolled her neck. "And where were you? See that we've switched outfits."

"Suppose we did," Rhaenys giggled, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. "Was training with Arya and Rickard. My cousins are determined to be strong warriors."

"I could give Arya some pointers with a dagger," Ygritte remarked. "She's one that would appreciate it."

Frowning, Rhaenys looked at her with a hand on her hip. "She would." Her scowl could see right through Ygritte. "What's the problem then?"

Ygritte sighed. "The glares, the open hostility…" Rhaenys' look softened, clearly knowing what Ygritte meant. "Feels like I'm a bunny in a wolf's territory."

"I was afraid of this," Rhaenys replied, sitting on the bed next to Ygritte. Wrapping her arms around the redhead's waist. "Hate of wildlings is deep in the North, and not altogether unwarranted."

"I know that," Ygritte allowed. "Not that I blame them, but they won't give me the benefit of the doubt." She rested her head on Rhae's shoulder. "I love their beloved Princess, but they don't see it."

"Some do, but most tolerate you for my sake. We should probably head back to King's Landing sooner than later."

"I agree," Ygritte replied, only for her brows to furrow. "Your cousin has been 'specially hostile."

"Which one? Joanna?" Rhae snorted. "She's just snarky."

The redhead shook her head. "Your uncle's heir."

Rhaenys' eyes widened. "Robb? No, I can't believe it.

Ygritte rolled her eyes. "If that pup of his were any bigger, he would have made me his dinner long ago."

Cringing, Rhae sighed and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Ygritte nuzzled her neck. "He was raised to see us as nothing more than raiding savages, to which a lot of us were." They held each other. "Seeing his cousin with one must be very difficult."

Free Folk looked for a certain type of spouse. Good warrior, could survive and protect in adversity, and one that was absolutely devoted. Rhaenys… she was that type, even if she had tits. Ygritte didn't disregard the desirabilty of a good cock, but she liked Rhae's tits quite a lot. "Just know I don't see you as such." Rhaenys leaned in, kissing her deeply.

Ygritte moaned and kissed her back, happily pulling her dragon down to the bed atop her. Dark of hair but just as kissed by fire as her own red locks…

Worries banished, they had just moved their hands for tearing their clothes apart when the door opened. "Rhae, I need to ask… What in the Seven Hells is happening here?!"

Rhaenys jerked away from Ygritte, and the redhead could only miss their closeness for a split second before the red-faced heir to Winterfell filled her vision. "Robb, have you thought of knocking?" the Princess asked in a curt tone. "What would Margaery say if she heard you were storming into the chambers of older girls?"

If anything, he reddened even more. "I refused to believe this, that Margaery and Joanna were wrong… but they weren't, were they? You… bedded her?"

Ygritte felt mortified, not a feeling she oft felt, but being here in Winterfell among her lover's family was… not something she was used to. Rhaenys replied for the both of them. "Whom I bed is none of your fucking concern."

"I held my tongue with Torrhen Karstark, because at least he was a good, northern boy. But you let this… savage beast defile you?"

There was a silence before Rhaenys slapped Robb about the head. "One more word and I'll hit you again!"

"I'm telling my mother…" another hit. That shut him up, but he glared and stormed off.

Falling back into bed, Ygritte winced. "This will end badly." Rhaenys had nothing to say to that.

Apparently his brother hadn't visited his dragon in a while, for Tessarion lumbered quickly on folded wings to Aegon. Light gold eyes animated with affection - she had always been a sweet, affectionate dragon that way. "Easy, girl, easy," Aegon called out as the dragon immediately pressed her head into his chest. Knocking him onto his back. "Gods, enough!"

Standing beside Smoke, her hands weaving through the direwolf's fur, Nymella giggled uncontrollably. "And these are the beasts that destroyed Harrenhal and the Gardeners?"

Arms crossed, Jon merely smirked. Looking and acting much older than his three and ten years. "You're seeing a side of them that only we Targaryens get to witness. A glorious honor, goodsister."

"Goodsister?" Her brow rose. "I haven't yet married your brother, Prince Baelon."

He eyed her, reaching into the folds of his cloak to pull out some dried pork. He tossed it off in the distance, rousing a previously torpid Ghost to race off after it. His white fur was quite the contrast to the Dornish sand. "Smoke has accepted you. As far as I'm concerned, you and Egg are married then." That put a blush on Nymella's face.

"Jon, you better not be bothering my beautiful bride." Aegon, having recovered from Tessarion's affectionate assaults, stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist. Kissing her. Making Jon smile at the obvious love between them.

He shook his head, smiling wider as Ghost trundled back up with the silliest look on his face - tongue hanging out from his snout. "Me? I would never. It's Dany that's the trickster of the family.

Aegon nodded. "I stand corrected."

Tessarion took advantage of the lull by snaking her head towards Jon, the same Targaryen Prince that had hatched her and her sisters many years before. A pair of sniffs led out a quite pathetic whine, snout scales rubbing down on Jon's raven curls. "Hello to you too, girl." He reached up and stroked her scales. "Been a good girl for my elder brother?" Another coo, which would sound to anyone else as a growl. "Just as I made you promise with muna. Good girl."

"Missing Valyrax, I bet," Aegon asked him.

"Like mad." Jon continued to stroke the scales. "Feel like something is torn from me without him." Gods, it should've been perverse to get a vicarious enjoyment with a different dragon - as if a man cheating on his wife - but Tessarion was as much his daughter as he was Aegon's. Baelon wouldn't ride her, but he loved her all the same. "The one unbearable nature of being on the journey I was on… as well as the lack of regular baths. Cannot imagine the stink of the wilds." He shuddered just thinking about it.

"Oh, the mighty Prince Baelon Targaryen vanquished by a mere odor. I weep for the fate of the Realm." Nymella, she could tangle with the likes of Daenerys and Rhaenys it seemed to Jon. Good luck then. But her expression changed, a little… apprehensive. "Can I… touch her?"

Raising his brow, Jon met Aegon's gaze. "Well… I think it's been a year since she last bit off someone's arm."

Aegon's eyes sparkled with mirth. "No, I think it was nine moons. A girl that was flirting with me, but that girl had brown hair…"

Nymella rolled her eyes and made to smack Aegon upside the head. "A right arse, you are." But she kissed his cheek, reminding Jon very much of his own parents. "You told me before that she was gentle, and that you were willing to introduce my daughters to her."

"Innocent little girls? Practically the dragon version of a fruit tart." He chuckled, but even Ghost was glaring at him.

"Alright, valonqar, I think we've ran that jape too long." Aegon clicked his tongue and suddenly drew the beautiful redhead in for a kiss. One without restraint, one have melding over her breast and the other splayed on her arse. Lewd and unabashed, making Jon wish to avert his gaze, especially when Nymella simply melted into the touch. Giving it back as good as she got, gripping his hair and groping his crotch at the same time.

Baelon didn't know whether to be proud or disturbed by this. It was his brother, after all.

Plus it reminded him much of his last coupling with Daella. Bittersweet.

While there was a non-zero chance of them simply going at it right there, Aegon finally pulled back, leaving Nymella a panting mess with swollen lips. "Aegon…" she murmured, left docile and mewling with love and desire.

"Just… making sure that Tess… knows you're trusted by me." Sure enough the dragon's gaze was mellow, focused on Nymella. That… was rather smart of him, truth be told. "So go approach her. Trust me." Nymella swallowed but nodded, slowly walking to the dragon.

Aegon seemed quite prophetic, for while Tess wasn't as affectionate with Nymella she still regarded her sweetly. Growling as she touched her scales. Jon stood next to his brother. "Given that show, are you sure you haven't bedded her?"

His brother laughed. "No, not yet. Saving ourselves for the right moment."

"Your decision or hers? Or is that a stupid question?"

"My decision… she's someone to savor."

Baelon nodded. "But you're not a… maiden anymore I presume."

Aegon eyed him with a raised brow. "Neither are you, I can believe. Since you ask questions like that, never before did you talk to me about girls."

"Neither did you, even to our sister." The two Targaryen boys eyed each other for a moment before grinning and chuckling simultaneously. "Aye, I met someone in Lys."

"Were you careful?"

"I was… not that it matters." He sighed, thinking of Daella and her sweet smile. Her kind heart. "I'll never see her again, only content that she'll remember me fondly."

"Best that can be done under the circumstances I suppose." Aegon shrugged. "My first was Asha."

Now that surprised Jon. "Asha? And you didn't want to marry her?"

A sad expression crossed Aegon's face. "Mayhaps I would've, had she not anticipated it and broke off what we had. Said she wished that I would endure my… first experience with someone who wouldn't use it against me."

So she does care about us. The daughter of Balon Greyjoy had every reason to despise them, or trick them, but didn't. Instead doing the opposite. "She acted as a true sister would, especially given our last name."

"I…" Aegon furrowed his brows at him, only to smirk. "I see what you did there. Aye, very Targaryen." He bit his lip. "It worked too, however much I do miss her."

"Nymella wasn't the first?"

"No, there were others. Fun, but nothing like her." He smiled, watching as Tessarion snorted into Nymella's red hair, making her giggle. "She didn't like me when we first met."

"I didn't like you when we first met, didn't prove anything."

"Oh shut it." Jon did miss this with his siblings. "Thought I was a condescending, arrogant Prince trying to get up her skirt."

"Just proves she didn't know you, though any man would want up her skirt. She's exquisite." He looked at his brother. "You eventually convinced her though."

A nod. "Slowly, then quite explosively once Aegon Fyrefist made his entrance onto the world stage and into the history books."

The thought of it awed Jon. "Even I cannot top that… I'm proud of you, brother." Aegon didn't reply, merely reaching over and ruffling Jon's hair. Noticing Tessarion cooing against Nymella's side, he called out. "She's accepted you as her muna!"

"I'm glad she has. A big, scaly, fire-breathing sweetling," Nymella cooed herself, petting Tessarion. At least until a roar was heard in the sky. One that made Jon's eyes widen as he met Aegon's gaze. That sounds like…

Sure enough, the green shape of Aegerax soared over the Water Gardens, Tessarion answering the roars of the dragon patriarch. Their father - King Rhaegar - noticed the purple dragon and Aegarax began his descent in wide circles. Soon becoming smaller and smaller until with an immense wingbeat that blew into Jon's face, he landed with a thud. Only then did the Prince notice that his kepa wasn't alone. Apart from the armored figures of Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell were…

Queen Lyanna and Queen Elia. His munas. Wearing riding leathers but nonetheless composed and graceful as befitting their titles. Without prompting, both he and Aegon fell to their knees. "Your Graces," Jon spoke.

"Your Graces," replied Aegon.

They didn't have to wait long before their father spoke. "Rise."

Standing, they didn't have to wait long before their munas simply rushed to them. "Oof… muna!" Jon sputtered, Elia's grip tight around his waist as his face was shoved into her shoulder.

Elia pressed a flurry of kisses on his forehead and cheeks, not regal behavior but Jon was sure his muna didn't give a single thought to such propriety after moons of being separated from her. "My sweetling." Another flurry of kisses. "My precious prince, thank the gods you're well."

"Muna…" However embarrassed Jon was sure he'd be normally, he missed his muna too. Her slender but soft form, always comforting. "I love you, muna." He embraced her tightly.

"I love you too, sweetling." Hot tears fell onto his head.

Eventually his munas switched, the taller, stronger, but just as comforting form of his birth muna hugging him even tighter. "You've grown so much, my son," Lyanna cooed. "You're a man now."

Jon buried his face in her neck. "I just wanted to make you proud, muna." Now it was his turn to cry.

"You always have."

A sentiment echoed by his kepa as he loomed large. The glorious form of Rhaegar Targaryen, the Sunrise Dragon. Blackfyre tied at his hip, normally he radiated strength but his eyes watered. "My boy."

"Kepa."

"Welcome home, my son." It wasn't long before they embraced as well.

When the servants were asked to supply a full crate of fetters and logs for Princess Daenerys' hearth, they refused to speak ill of her but wondered if there was something wrong with her mind. It was winter, but it was also Dorne. The weather was beautiful and quite bracing during the daytime under the light of the equatorial sun. In the evenings and dawn there was a cooling sea breeze, but was the Princess so pampered that she couldn't handle it? Princess Arianne after all simply put on a shawl, while the robust northern Lady Sansa just enjoyed it.

Few people truly understood dragons and their need for heat. Some like Baelon or Visenya did have a proper tolerance of the cold, but Daenerys did not possess the Stark blood. Poor Rhaenys, stuck in the frozen lands north of the Wall for many moons, for Daenerys found even the nightly chills to be irksome in the light, gauzy dresses that were Dornish fashion.

But there was another reason behind it. Before the comfort of the roaring hearth, heat bathing her, Daenerys could practice coaxing out her inner flame.

She took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. Remembering the words of Shienna, long since journeyed to King's Landing - it having heartened Daenerys greatly to hear of her acceptance at Rhaegar's court. Fire needs air to survive. Through breathing, our inner fire finds the same nourishment as food gives to us. Each breath found her core and skin grow warmer as her soul calmed. Detachment and serenity building a connection just as anger and aggression would aid her in battle. Not that she was anywhere close to thinking she could partake in the combat arts at her level of training.

Syrio Forel had shown her the limitations of her sword technique, and she'd been training with Lyanna for five years.

Mind cleared of her turmoil, Daenerys felt the fire coaxed out of the depths of her soul. Crawling up from her core, spreading across her shoulders and arms. Playing at her fingers, a familiar presence she had long felt but didn't know of until recently. Until the gods brought her to Shienna. Dany let it dance, let the flames begin to heat her fingertips. Ready to conjure the flames into existence beyond her body and see just how she could manipulate them.

The warmth of her inner flame was wonderful, covering her like a soft quilt during a nippy Winterfell morning, but something suddenly began to break her concentration. Daenerys kept her eyes shut, allowing the flames to shroud her away from all else.

And yet the pinprick of wet continued to beset her. Disrupting her concentration. All the way until a pair of powerful paws felled the Princess. Pushing Dany on her back and launching an even more vigorous attack. A long, pink tongue licking all across her face.

Concentration broken permanently, Dany tried to open her eyes to call Moonlight off, but the wolf's fur pattern and color was all wrong. Almost like… "Lady!" she sputtered, trying not to get wolf slobber in her mouth. The other wolf continued to lick, cooing the entire time. "Enough, stop it!" she shrieked, interspersed with giggles.

Lady… obeyed. Sort of. Instead of licking she nuzzled Dany's face, mewling. Finishing it off by resting atop Dany's legs, staring down with what could only be described as the direwolf version of a loving smile.

Wiping off the slobber with her hand, Daenerys made to be cross with Lady… but truly the wolf was so adorable that she couldn't. "You're lucky you're cute," she murmured, reaching up to ruffle her fur. Normally Lady or Moonlight or Ghost would crane their necks flat and pull back their ears, but this time Lady instead turned into Dany's palm. Nuzzling it.

It was… different. Dany peered into the wolf's eyes. Nothing was amiss, but she'd been around the wolves enough to know. Something was off - Lady was the gentlest of the wolves. She never played rough, unless…

Dany's mind clicked into place. "Sansa?" Lady barked, nuzzling her some more. "Oh gods… it's you, isn't it?" Another bark, to which Dany squealed and hugged the fur. That sweetheart…

About a minute later, Lady tensed and then started to sniff around. Sniffing Dany's hair before trying to extract herself. Knowing the warg bond was broken, Dany let the wolf go, who trundled to the bed and plopped on it next to her sister - yawning and sleeping.

The knock on the door was completely expected. "Coming," Dany called out, rising from the floor and smoothening out her dress. It was red and airy, one that exposed most of her shoulder and all her neck - one Arianne picked out for her, the bitch. She shook the sour thoughts from her head, rushing to the door and opening it.

Sansa was there as expected, an innocent expression on her face. "Dany, have you seen… Lady. Thank the gods, she's here."

Dany smirked. "Like you didn't know she was here."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked the taller redhead. "I was innocently reading in my chambers…"

Throwing caution to the wind, Dany pulled Sansa in and shut the door. "I know what you were doing." Her hands went to Sansa's trim waist. "If you wanted to watch me and play with me, you could've come in yourself."

A smirk found itself on Sansa's face. "You were practicing, why couldn't I?" She giggled. "Besides, I didn't have Lady do what I didn't want to do."

Dany smiled sultrily. "Oh, there's so much I wouldn't let Lady do to me that I would want from you." They couldn't hold back, Daenerys finally looping her arms around Sansa's neck and kissing her. Their lips locking in a tight vice.

It was chaste but passionate. They barely hinted at a deeper kiss, tongues shallowly penetrating on occasion. Their affection was still innocent, but Dany could feel a deep heat inside her body everytime she was close to Sansa. And Jon. Further confirming the feelings she felt - dragons loved hard, and early… but mayhaps something did fear if this was just infatuation. Rhaenys had it with her various lovers, as did Aegon from what she heard of how he acted in Dorne before meeting Nymella.

Did she think her love for Sansa and Jon was just youthful indiscretion? No, but she did wish to make sure their powerful bond was solidified - not to mention the lack of Jon made them incomplete. As she moved her lips along Sansa's graceful neck, knowing just how her goodsister Lyanna loved it the one time she saw her and Elia necking in the gardens of the Red Keep, they would tell Jon soon. And then she would know for sure.

They would be as complete as their games when so young. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys. Just as we wanted so long ago.

Suddenly the door opened and a small gasp drew them both apart. "Forgive me, Princess, my Lady," Missandei stammered. Had her skin been a shade lighter, she'd be blushing.

In spite of her wolfishness, Sansa held the same modesty that Jon showed on occasion. She angled her head down and blushed herself. Dany giggled at the both of them, kissed Sansa's cheek, and approached Missy. "Nothing amiss here, Missandei. You need not act so prudish."

"I'll try to do better, Princess."

"What did we say? You may call us our names."

"Of course… Daenerys." Missy raised her head and smiled. "Someone in armor that called himself Barristan Selmy informed me that Queen Lyanna wishes your presence before dinner." Dany looked at Sansa. That was a summons they couldn't ignore.

It was a wholesome greeting. As Lady and Moonlight nuzzled their snouts against their father Spirit, Lyanna hugged her nieces - given their ages, Lya was more an aunt than a goodsister. "Your munas will be heartened to see you grown so much, sweetlings," she said, kissing their foreheads.

"I always did wish to be as beautiful as you, aunt," Sansa replied.

"A good answer." Lyanna pinched her cheek before turning to Daenerys. "Lady Shienna Aekylosh spoke highly of you."

Dany beamed. "So she's part of court."

"Quite the sensation, drew plenty of attention - even a quite forward amount from our Lord Hand."

"Grandfather fancies her?" Dany was as shocked as Sansa was, but didn't say anything.

Lyanna laughed. "Shocking, isn't it?" But her smile fell. Queen Lyanna Stark was practically a legend. As much Visenya or Rhaenys the Queen who Never Was in strength and ferocity but without a dragon. In coloring and features she was all Stark, chestnut brown hair, pale skin, and piercing grey eyes. It made for an intimidating picture, especially with Wolfsbane tied to her side even wearing the feminine dress. Apparently this meeting wasn't just for pleasantries. "I am told that you have begun an… alternative form of love."

How'd she figure it out? Mayhaps someone spotted them? Mayhaps Missy cracked, Dany wasn't sure. "Aye, we have." Sansa couldn't deny it, and Daenerys simply sighed and nodded.

"Is this in place of your barely-hidden desire to be Jon's Queens?"

Dany reacted almost violently. "Of course not." Her violet eyes narrowed in defiance. "You of all people should not begrudge us the desire to remain together, the three of us."

Lyanna gazed down at her for the longest time before chuckling. "You remind me a lot of myself, and your muna. Jon is well served to have you by his side, while my dear niece… she compliments you both." Both she and Sansa relaxed. "I have no anger or disagreement, in fact this heartens me."

Sansa beamed. "Thank you, aunt Lyanna." She took Daenerys' hand in hers, to which Dany stroked her thumb over the soft skin.

"A warning though." They both tensed. "This can only work if you actually do love each other. If this is just lust and juvenile exploration, then end it."

"This is love." Daenerys surprised even herself in how… certain she sounded. "I love Baelon, and I love Sansa." Grey eyes watched her with surprise. And pure adoration.

"Good, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Why are yer' afraid?"

Rhaenys bit her lip. "Just am." She stared at the closed door, nervously fiddling with her fingers. Her foot tapped on the wooden floor, making a clicking sound, yet another nervous habit she rarely experienced - she was a Princess and dragonrider. Why should she be nervous?

Ygritte picked up on that. "He's just a little Lord compared to you. Stop worryin'."

"He's not just that… he's my uncle."

"So was the other one, and ye' stood up to him just fine."

"Not as simple as that. Uncle Ned… we have a connection, him and I." Wordlessly she buried her hand into Nysar's red fur. The direwolf cooing with soft mewls of delight at the touch. "I remember him comforting me after I experienced my grandfather's madness for the first time, and we were inseparable since."

Clicking her tongue, Ygritte sighed and leaned over. "Aight." She kissed Rhaenys on the neck, making the latter relax finally. "If he cares fer ye that much, then don't worry."

Rhaenys turned, smiling at her lover. "Thank you." She pressed her lips against her, letting her nerves calm.

"Princess." She turned to see Jory emerge from within, his face hard as stone. "Lord Stark is ready for you."

Nodding, Rhaenys looked at Nysar. "Take care of her for me, girl." Nysar whimpered, walking over to Ygritte and wrapping her furry body round the redhead. Rhaenys smiled. "Just wait for me. I won't be long."

"Alright." Ygritte smiled back, snark disappeared from her face and leaving only affection.

Rhaenys loved that smile.

It steeled her for what was to come.

To no shock her uncle wasn't the only person there. Both Aunt Cersei and Uncle Benjen were present, as was… "Grandmother."

Rhaella nodded. "Rhaenys…I hope you are as irritated by this as I am."

"Your Grace, please," Cersei insisted, though her expression showed not a little exasperation. "This is no time for sniping, we are all on the same side."

"And I fail to see how asking my granddaughter to cut her fostering short and leave is the welcome behavior of an ally, let alone family."

Did Rhaenys expect the axe to fall so drastically? In truth, no. "You want me to leave, aunt Cersei."

Her green eyes were listless. "It isn't that I wish it… just that it might be the safer option."

She inhaled deeply. "Is this because of Ygritte?"

"The wildling? Yes." Uncle Benjen was curt, while uncle Ned said nothing.

"They prefer to be called Free Folk," Rhaenys replied, crossing her arms. Before Benjen could reply, she cut him off. "You're my uncle and I love you, but you are also of the Kingsguard. Ygritte is my guest, and you will treat her as such."

While Benjen scowled, he said nothing. Rhaella looked upon her granddaughter in pride, but Cersei winced. "That is the crux of the issue, niece. You are in the North, and keeping a wildling as a guest is going to cause much stir."

"I am aware, given the angry stares and insults Ygritte is given by the household."

"All of which are unacceptable." Rhaella tapped her hand on the desk. "She is a Princess, and a dragonrider. Whatever feelings her choice of companionship elicit are not the concern of anyone but the royal family…"

"Your Grace, it is not that simple." Cersei chose her words carefully. "Robb has told us that she is not simply your guest, and if that information becomes common knowledge…"

"A dragon doesn't concern herself with the opinions of sheep." A common saying she heard from her grandmother - countered by her muna's urge that she 'always keep her ears open to the words of the smallfolk and highborns.' Rhaenys did her best to balance them out.

"Robb was very upset, and angry, and his sentiment extends to the North." Cersei met Rhae's eyes. "If this were in King's Landing it could be overlooked, but in the middle of the North… Either Ygritte leaves, or you both must."

"I will not leave her," Rhaenys insisted. "I love her."

At those words, Ned rose. "My love, brother, your Grace, may I speak to my niece alone?" They complied, Rhaella grudgingly so only when Rhaenys urged her to with a pleading expression.

Alone with her uncle at last, Rhaenys saw him turn away from her, staring at the window behind his ironwood desk. It was unbecoming of a Princess, a dragonrider and one that had faced down all sorts of men and monsters… her Father was a King and mothers Queens, but faced with the potential disapproval or disappointment of her uncle whom she outranked, Rhaenys felt the most turbulence. The most apprehension. "Uncle?" she asked, biting her lip. "Please, say something."

He was still silent, to which her stomach churned, until he turned. While he sighed, a ghost of a smile played on his lips. "You… I have little doubt this is what my father felt about your mother in his final days."

Rhaenys relaxed, letting out a breath. "That can be interpreted positively or negatively, uncle."

"Positively, I believe." Her uncle approached her, placing his hands on the sides of her arms - he was taller than her, but not by much. Rhaenys inherited her kepa's height. "Father felt that House Stark was too isolated, that it needed to expand its influence even while keeping its traditions. Once he knew your father cared for your mother, then a betrothal to the Crown Prince was all he ever wished for and more."

"As opposed to the Lord of Storm's End?" Of course Rhaenys knew, but upon seeing some pain on her uncle's face she sighed. "Forgive me, I didn't mean…"

"No, it's fine." Ned hung his head. "Therein lies fault with me, even if such violence has been long since forsworn." He kissed her forehead. "My point is that my father was so content with how your mother turned out, he was willing to overlook matters that may have made him only mildly uncomfortable."

She caught on quickly. "You mean the desire my munas share for each other." Not a question - Rhaenys shuddered a bit, only because they were her munas. The thought of them doing what she did with Ygritte… Yuck.

Ned pursed his lips. "Aye. I only lack awkwardness in referring to your relationship because I grew used to seeing the affections Queen Elia gives my sister. They are… quite loving of each other."

"You do not know the half of it, uncle… not that you'd want to I suppose." His lips curled up a bit at that, and even Rhaenys had to chuckle dryly. "So why are you bringing this up? Are you doing so as the Warden of the North or as my uncle?"

Letting go of Rhae's arms, Ned wrapped an arm about her shoulder, bidding her to walk alongside him. "What we have already said, your aunt and uncle and I, were in our capacity as Starks. The House Paramount of the North - I speak to you as your uncle, and as one that does trust you in matters of the heart."

There was a little catch in Rhae's throat. "You do?" she asked with hope in her voice.

"You were adventurous and reckless when you left here for Castle Black, but coming back finds you mature and measured. I trust you going forward."

Rhaenys beamed and hugged her uncle just as closely as when she was but a little girl. "Thank you," she murmured.

He kissed her forehead. "But promise me one thing, sweetling." Rhaenys looked into his grey eyes, the same shade as her muna's. "I trust that you have found love with this… Ygritte. I may not like that she is a wildling but she betrayed her people to save you and I will find a way to tolerate her because of that show of loyalty." She waited for him to continue. "You are a Princess, and certain things will be required of you."

"You mean marriage?"

"Aye. I cannot be certain that whom you do marry would be willing to be as… accommodating as your father is for both my sister and goodsister, so simply bear that in mind. I will not be there to advise you further once you leave here in the next few days, so you must choose wisely."

Marriage.

Taking a man to wed even as she found the love of her life and took her to bed. A woman cannot wed a woman, at least not on their own. Even the Valyrians, as debased as they were, refused to allow it. Those were the realities that she lived with, and she understood her uncle's words. "You can count on me, uncle. I promise." Ned said nothing else, simply kissing her forehead and resuming their hug.

Oh, she would miss him.