Chapter 34: Blood on the Snow

"Ahhhh!" Arms encircled around Aegon's waist, the once reserved and dismissive Nymella Toland - sole Lady of Ghost Hill for many years and considered unable to be fazed - screamed like a terrified maiden as Tessarion lurched forward with a beat of her massive wings. "Stop flying so erratically!" Nymella screamed.

Chuckling, Aegon tried to concentrate on guiding Tessarion in between the clouds and not at the slender, soft arms gripping his chest. Much as she tried to avoid it, they hadn't been up in the air for two seconds before she was holding him tight. Desperate not to fall off the dragon's saddle. "You sought me out for help, my Lady."

"Your help!" she screamed over the wind. "Not to fly to Ghost Hill on this mad lummox!"

'The nerve of this bitch.' Tessarion roared in annoyance. 'Ask her to flap to Ghost Hill with her arms, then.'

Aegon snorted. "Be nice, girl." He said in Valyrian, which Lady Nymella did not know… he had talked to the dragon before and she was none the wiser. "Lady Nymella is our guest."

The dragon let out an irritated hoot. 'Just bed her and get it over with, kepa.' Another beat of her wings and a tilted bank sent Nymella into more screaming. 'If you don't loosen her up with your cock, I just may see if she can really fly on the return trip.'

"Don't you dare!" Aegon hissed, only for Nymella to notice. "Sorry, Tessarion…" He smirked. "Tessarion is wondering if you can fly with your arms."

"What?!" Nymella writhed behind Aegon. "Don't you dare… don't you dare let me go!" She buried her head and body into Aegon, melding them close.

Fuck, she felt good - her face in his neck and breasts pressed against his… 'Enough, kepa… gross.'

That made him chuckle, and reach down to pat her hand. "I won't. But still, you should be easier on poor Tessarion. She's a very sensitive soul and tends to hurt easily."

'Screw you.' That made Aegon laugh harder.

Trembling, Nymella relented. "Apologies, Tessarion." The dragon growled but leveled out, calm restored and allowing Aegon to truly enjoy the dragonflight.

It was truly amazing, the greatest feeling in the world, and one that began his glorious rise to peak physical condition. Aegon loved the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair and against his face, the sun high in the sky with such glorious blue beauty. Below the world spread out below as if the painted table on Dragonstone… it was the most wondrous glories that could ever exist.

But instead of alone as he usually was, he rode with his first guest. The beautiful Nymella Toland, for whom he tied his long silver hair into a tight topknot and avoided all the acrobatic loops and spirals he loved doing - him, Dany, and Alyssa were particularly aggressive in competition with each other on that. For her, he'd stick to flying simply.

Much as she seemed to regard him… not perfectly, he nevertheless was drawn to the beautiful, older redhead. Mayhaps it was the challenge, but also partly since she had such a wise head on her shoulders. Aegon learned from his kepa to never doubt the beauty of a clever woman.

Pushing into some sort of gust, Tessarion jinked in the air. She screeched and flapped her wings to keep balance and it largely worked - Aegon holding onto the spines and silently giving his commands.

But for his passenger. "I thought you said you'd calm down if I apologized to her?!" She broke out in soft whimpers, still buried into his back. "Please, just let me down. How… how can anyone fucking do this?!"

Sighing, Aegon found himself saddened. Lady Nymella was so scared - in truth he didn't blame her, or anyone without the blood of the dragon - she couldn't see the wonder of it. How on dragonback, the great beast carrying their rider through the skies where no other living human could ever dream of ascending to, it truly was a gift from the gods. To gaze upon the earth as only the gods could.

He found himself wanting to demonstrate it to Nymella. "Stay level, girl. Don't jolt or bank."

'Aye, kepa. Will do.' There was Tessarion's sweetness. 'She'll jump you for sure after this.' And back to being cheeky - her aunt Rhaenys likely taught her that.

"My Lady," he called. "Look down."

She gasped. "Are you mad?!"

"Just do it!"

"No!"

"Do it, trust me!"

"Fine!" Nymella shrieked, but then silence. Aegon glanced over his shoulder and smiled. There she was, still holding onto him tightly but her beautiful face was cast at the ground. "Oh gods… that's the sea… that's Ghost Hill!" she exclaimed excitedly, earlier fear forgotten. "We're among the clouds!" Nymella seemed to finally notice, sounding now like a young girl.

"Unbelievable, no?" he asked.

She looked at him with new eyes. "That's why you fly, don't you?" He nodded. "And you shared it with me?"

Aegon beamed. "Gladly, the only one of all of them I willingly did for." Unlike the previous amusement, sternness, or disgust of her previous looks, she blushed. Shy.

"Thank you."

Finally they began their descent over Lady Nymella's home. The castle was a beautiful one in Aegon's eyes, perched atop a hill overlooking the sparkling waters of the Narrow Sea. It had chalk-white walls that shone from the reflected sun from the blue waves, arranged in a pentagon with the points marked off by a square tower. Unlike many newer castles with the defenses of the keep combined with the walls, Ghost Hill sported the traditional holdfast style with its main keep. "Beautiful," he murmured, earning a smile from Nymella. "Just like its Lady."

She blushed, but frowned. "Do not think all has changed between us, my Prince."

Damn. "I wouldn't think of it, my Lady." He'd need to work more to earn her affections. "Where should I land?

Nymella pointed to a small stretch of flat land watched over by the castle's walls. "There, right west of the village there." The village was of a decent size, winding around a few central lanes situated at the bottom of the hill. "The guards will likely come out of the castle to greet us."

"Good then." He clicked his tongue. "Tessarion, land." Aegon guided Tessarion to descend, a lazy circle downward as the ground grew in size steadily. It was a very smooth landing, wingbeats kicking up a large cloud of dust from the dry ground… and as Aegon noticed, a lot of ash. Oh… He said nothing, knowing if Nymella wished to talk about it, she would.

Once Tessarion came to a halt upon the ground, Aegon deftly scrambled down the spines - something he had learned very young, and often trained his arms and upper body climbing up and down repeatedly. His boots thudded upon the ground. "Come, my Lady. I'll help you down." Nymella nodded and slowly eased herself down. Aegon reached up to help her down, but instead of taking her hand he simply grabbed her by the waist, pulling her off Tessarion's shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

Lady Nymella yelped, but that didn't stop Aegon till she was settled. Her legs wobbled underneath her dress, but she composed herself. "You didn't need to do that."

"What, a Prince cannot be chivalrous and help a Lady in distress?"

"I was not in distress and did not ask for your help - I believe you just wanted to touch my waist."

Aegon shrugged. "A happy coincidence." She rolled her eyes, to which he smiled… only for the smile to die as he witnessed the ashen landscape and many ruined houses in the village. "I see what you mean about attacked."

She scowled, but not at him. "They raped several of the village women to get my men to sally out of the castle walls. They did so, only for the pirates to ambush them from the gutted houses and capture their armor. Their loot, and the women, were all hauled aboard the ships."

"Were those most of the villagers?"

"Not most, those made it to the keep… but isn't one of your charges enough to weep?" Nymella looked at him with worn eyes.

Aegon nodded. "My munas and kepa kept me sheltered from the worst of this, but I understand."

Just then, a troop of horse galloped down the hill towards them. At the van was a middle-aged man in the robes of the Citadel. "My Lady, you are back so soon?"

She smiled. "Unexpected, Maester Toman. But my companion insisted on coming."

The dozen horsemen and the maester all dismounted and bended the knee. "Your Grace, it is an honor. I shall have the finest guest chamber prepared for you."

Aegon looked to Nymella. "First a bath… for myself and for the Lady here." Nymella narrowed her eyes, but sighed. He wasn't going anywhere.

Torchlight flickering from the embedded stand in the ice, Jaime Lannister tried not to look up. He didn't understand exactly why - the tunnels of the Red Keep were supported with nothing but rock to prevent the massive castle from collapsing in on it. Same with the entrance to Casterly Rock, which arguably held more given the entire mountain of the Rock was borne by it.

But that was rock, this was ice. Mayhaps that was the difference, but forgive him if Jaime didn't believe magic could keep something as brittle as ice from caving in and burying him completely.

"I can 'ear you thinkin' a mile away, Lannister."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Fuck off, Clegane."

The Hound snorted. "Testy. Thought you'd be fuckin' rid of me for a while after Little Prince had me watch over the Saucy Snake."

"Didn't do a very good job, did you?" Jaime didn't really mean it, less from wishing to protect the Hound's feelings - if the brute had any that was - and more from not wanting to despair anymore than he already was. It came out anyway.

Sandor didn't look at him. "No, I didn't." A pregnant pause. "Gonna have to face Little Lord with it as a black mark."

His brow rose. "You truly care what he thinks, don't you?"

A shrug. "It's hard, not to care about them. They wear you down, you know? Those dragons."

Aye, Jaime knew quite well. His experience with that was back in Castle Black right at that very moment - only hours ago having taken spurts of his seed in her cunt. 'Make me forget, my lion.' He'd lost count of how many times she'd asked that of him. He never denied her. "Even Princess Rhaenys?"

"Even the Silver Pest, but if you tell her I said that I will fuckin rend you apart." From his low growl, the Hound meant it.

Jaime held up his hands. "Your secret's safe with me."

Ahead of them, the impatience of youth was clear before their eyes. "Come on, you fuckers. Open the damn gates!"

"Ser Torrhen, calm yourself," hissed the Halfhand. "Think it's easy opening the damn door. Four feet of cold steel, and they're not gonna open it till the coast is clear…"

"I hope those bastards try to ambush us… then I'll show them true northern justice."

Frowning, Jaime wanted to smack the boy upside the head - but refrained. "Can I knock the fucker out, Lannister?" the Hound asked, seeking permission.

But Jaime shook his head. "Boy's in love, and his father's on tense enough ground with Lord Stark as it is." A fool in love - at least he'd been smarter about it when with Rhaella during those early moons, while Ser Torrhen knew not anything of tact when Rhaenys wasn't there to keep him in line. I told the Princess to end things with him before they grew out of control... really wish I was more insistent.

Then again, the combo of Targaryen and Martell blood alongside being raised by Starks… Nothing would stop Rhaenys Targaryen if she set her eyes on something.

Finally, a sharp groan echoed through the tunnel, followed by a sliver of light shining through from the other side. "Fucking finally!" Ser Torrhen exclaimed. "Move your arses!"

"Please, just one punch."

At least he said please.

Contrary to Ser Torrhen's wishes, the clear day revealed just a small party of Wildlings outside arrow range from atop the Wall. It took a while for the party of Westerosi and Night's Watch to reach them, but nonetheless Jaime got a good sense of them. Most were simple warriors, but one man with a bushy red beard stood out as the leader. "Southerners… where's the dragon lady?" he asked, eying them with suspicion.

Jaime figured that was a wildling speciality. "Just us."

"I know Halfhand there," the ginger pointed to Qhorin. "Rest of you are a fuckin' mystery."

"You don't know him?" Qhorin chortled. "That's Jaime fuckin' Lannister." Jaime wanted so much to roll his eyes, but refrained.

"I'm sorry, who?"

Now that was refreshing - someone who didn't know him. "He's fuckin' the dragon lady," the Hound explained. "The one you don't have."

The ginger guffawed. "Really? Fuckin' wow, I'm impressed, blondy."

Scowl marring his face, Jaime stepped forward. "You informed us that you wished to discuss terms. Well discuss them."

"Alright, alright." The wildling brushed some snow off of his furs. "I'm Tormund Giantsbane, and I bring word from the Queen Beyond the Wall."

"Don't you mean King?" Jaime asked. "Mance."

Something flashed in Tormund's eyes, a flicker of hesitation before he cleared his throat. "Mance is no longer our King. The chieftains voted and Val Rayder, his goodsister, is our Queen. Mance's newborn son is her heir if he passes muster with the council."

Sharing a glance at Qhorin, the nod of the First Ranger put all the pieces together. Mance was dead, killed by this Val. Unfortunate, for if he remembered correctly it was this Val that was the true firebrand of the wildlings. Poor Rhae. "I don't care whom is in charge of you savages!" Ser Torrhen hissed. "We demand you release Princess Rhaenys, ginger dog."

"You have some mouth," Tormund grunted. "In any case, Val is willing to release the Princess in exchange for a price."

"What price?"

"The Gift… all of it, old and new, plus all fortresses of the Night's Watch."

Torrhen cackled. "Are you mad?"

For once, the lad was right. "Those terms are unacceptable." Jaime hated to do this, but… "We are willing to pay a ransom."

"Gold? We have no use for fuckin' gold here," Tormund grunted.

"Then what? Food? Steel?"

"We want our lives, Dragon Fucker." The way Tormund said that, it was eerie. "Our lives, and the security that we can live in peace."

"As far as I'm concerned, savage," Torrhen snarled. "You can all die. Turn over Rhaenys or you will meet fire and blood."

Tormund snorted. "Good luck with that." He pursed his lips. "This was a waste, as Queen Val said, but we will be camped close by if you change your minds." With that, the Wildlings were off.

Out of distance, Jaime gave in and punched Torrhen in the face. "Never speak on behalf of House Targaryen again, is that clear?!"

Torrhen didn't get the message. "He hit me! Ser Jaime hit me. You saw it!"

Qhorin shrugged. "You shouldn't have taunted that wildling. They have fierce tempers."

"What he said," grunted the Hound, finally shutting Torrhen up, but not his glare. Jaime could only hope Rhaenys - if she came back - could let him down gently and get him out of their lives.

If she came back. "Just a little longer, Princess. Just a little longer till we save you."

Arthur Dayne was content with his lot. A full life did he live, from growing up close to the royal family of Dorne alongside his sister - the one person in the world he most cared for - to joining the Kingsguard of Aerys II Targaryen. It was there that he met Rhaegar, and through him did all the glories he won spring out. From countless victories that truly made him the 'Sword of the Morning,' what he most cherished was the love that bloomed with Dacey Mormont. Dace, my beautiful she-bear. She could fight him to exhaustion on the sparring court and in the bedchamber, but in her he found belonging and rest. A serenity Arthur adored.

Here, stuck under the sweltering Ghiscari sun, all he wished was to go back. Back home to his loves, to his children and proper duties. The task of this journey had run its course, he believed, not only to broaden the outlook of the Crown Prince but also of the Princess and Lady Stark. In some ways Arthur had more than tripled his planned success - more so if he counted the discovery of House Aekylosh… though that would be determined when they arrived in King's Landing.

Certainly the children thought the same, children that Arthur had come to love and care for as if he was their uncle, or even surrogate father. Such was why his heart broke when he witnessed Daenerys' eyes fill with tears. "Don't look, children," he murmured, trying to steer them clear of the sight.

But he was just one man - the only one watching them now that they and Shienna parted ways at Volantis - and as such he couldn't block all their view. "Monsters," murmured Dany, tearstreaks coursing down her cheeks. "This is needless suffering for nothing." Walking beside her, Moonlight raised her head and licked Dany's palm, whimpering at the poor dear's sadness.

Not exactly wrong. Jon, for his own part, sucked a lip under his teeth. "The suffering is the point of crucifixion, both to punish and as a warning to others." He sounded much like his father it was uncanny. Perhaps he had matured too much?

Sansa shook her head. "Barbarism - at least death by dragonfire is quick." Also true, Arthur mused, looking up at the crosses to which at least two dozen wretches were nailed to. Men and women both, the former looked bruised and battered while the latter… Arthur hoped the children didn't notice that the few with torn dresses showed most of their bruises to the hip and thighs.

"Bricks and blood built Astapor, and bricks and blood her people." Shienna had told him that in warning when they parted in Volantis, and while in principle it made sense only by seeing it in action did Arthur realize the truth. "We find your friend and then we leave," he said firmly

"Agreed," Jon said for the three of them. "I feel dirty just being here." He wasn't talking about the sand and dust.

While most of the condemned were silent, many unconscious, one cried out in a pitiful mourn. "Water! Please, water…" A far off guard shouted at him, but most simply ignored him. "I thirst… have mercy."

Something in Daenerys snapped. "I can't stand this." Grabbing her water gourd, she raced over.

"Dany, stop," Arthur called out, but the girl was willful. Climbing the scaffolding upon which the guards had nailed the slave and reaching out. Granting him water. Such a noble heart.

"You! Girl!" A guard waved a whip at Dany. He was fat and shirtless… looking more like a thug than any sort of military man. "No talking to the scum!" He lashed out with his whip, striking the deck right at Dany's feet. Making her jump.

Arthur sprung forward before Jon could. "A big brave man, lashing little girls." Arthur drew both his blades, Dawn glinting in the sunlight. The man yelped and fell in the dusty ground, to which Dany used to scramble off the scaffold and race behind Arthur to where her companions were. "Care to face me?" The guard merely scrambled to his feet and ran off, a trail of piss trickling down his leg.

Sansa clapped her hands together. "Good show, Ser, good show."

"Wish you'd cut the heads off those cunts," Daenerys hissed, a sentiment that Arthur didn't necessarily object to. "What sort of monster would not allow water to a dying man?"

"Takes a monster to do all this," he replied, sheathing his sword before placing a hand on her shoulder. "Now I know your heart is filled with gold, but I'd rather not have to do that again. Not after that stunt the three of you pulled back in Volantis, clear?"

Daenerys gulped, Sansa shifted her feet, while Jon rubbed the back of his neck - all looked guilty. "Alright," they murmured. "So what do we do now?"

"What are you talking about?" Sansa said. "We find Missy and get her back."

"We already know the bastard that bought her," Dany added. "He lives in the palace or citadel or something. We can request an audience…"

"How do we do that?" He spread out his hands. "We have no credentials and are dressed like laborers. He'll never even give us the time of day and by then Missandei will…"

As the Prince was talking, Arthur - scanning the harbor - spotted a very familiar thatch of golden blonde hair. His eyes widened. No… it can't possibly… Apparently Tessarion was smiling on them, for clustered within a group of freeborn Astapori guards and Westerosi knights was Ser Gerion Lannister himself. Of course the daring adventurer finds himself here.

"Enough, lad," Arthur spoke, cutting him off. "Wait here with the girls and the wolves, I have a feeling things will go just fine." Ruffling Jon's hair, he made his way towards the wayward Lannister knight, currently conversing with one of the Good Masters. His head wasn't shaved and nose small, so it wasn't Kraznys mo Nakloz - that would've… likely been complicated.

Most giving him a wide berth - a man with two swords at his hip and the steely stare of a man who knew how to use them, Arthur took to such intimidation quite easily - he was soon within range to hear what the two were discussing. "Surely the benefits of trade between our peoples…"

"Councilor, I don't right care about what goods you have to sell." There was the Lannister temper alright. "We can get goods and resources from Pentos or Braavos… or at worst Qarth and they would be better quality than this worn place." Of the great cities of the former Ghiscari Empire, Astapor was the poorest. Only the thriving slave markets and mercenary soldiers kept them afloat in gold - Shienna had told Arthur that. "What I am here for is to obtain the Westerosi sailors sold by pirates into your slave markets."

"I have no knowledge of this…"

"Spare me the bullshit! I know you have Westerosi in your slave markets."

"Forgive me, Ser Gerion, but your tone is highly undiplomatic."

Before Gerion could speak, Arthur managed to sneak through the distracted freeborn guards and grab Gerion's shoulder. "Councilor, you should know that a Lannister always pays his debts."

Suddenly he was grabbed at by multiple guards, the Astapori freeborns moving to shove him back and hit him with their clubs… only for the Westerosi knights to intervene. Shouting. Gerion himself turned around, and then his jaw to drop. "Arthur?" The Lannister knight looked close to collapsing from the shock of it.

Arthur smiled softly. "Hello, old friend… if you could snap out of it, I really don't want these arses to beat me up?"

Every ten or so minutes that seemed to tick by - not that she had any sort of clock or sundial - Rhaenys would draw her sword out a third of its way in the scabbard. Ensuring that no frost would form just in case she needed it. I shan't be the Lord of Bones. That would be a fond memory to tell her brothers and aunt when she returned to King's Landing, not the seed of her own death once finally she escaped.

"You know, I would've considered this a heavy snowfall before I arrived in the True North."

Beside her as they trudged through the snowfall, Ygritte smirked. "Now ye' see why we Free Folk think yer' all a bunch of pansies."

Rolling her eyes, Rhaenys nevertheless felt herself shiver. "I still can't believe you can stand this cold."

"I've never been warm lest by a fire… or in that cave." For much as the memories of that steamy few nights did create a smirk on Rhae's face, there was some sadness in Ygritte's statement. Never south of the Wall, never had seen a land not covered in ice and snow. "Can't really think'of somethin' different."

Rhae sighed. "You'll like it in… well, probably not King's Landing. It's better than it was but still a mess." Stinky, crowded, and filled with snakes. "Dragonstone is wonderful though, as is Dorne."

"That's where yer' mother is from."

"One of them, anyways."

"How's that work?"

A chuckle. "Queen Elia birthed me, but both she and Queen Lyanna raised me."

"Sounds mad… but here up in the True North, we pretty much have everythin' as long as babes come out of it. Ye' know about Craster?"

Shuddering, Rhaenys nodded. "Too much. That's fucked up even for Targaryens."

"I don't fuckin' like the cunt, but still he's there." Scrambling down a small drop in the rocky face - ahead of a large grove of trees - Ygritte held out her hand, which Rhaenys took. Helping her down. "After you, mi'Lady."

It sounded ridiculous in her wildling accent, and Rhaenys laughed. "Do that a few times and they'll accept you in King's Landing… somewhat."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She raised her brow.

"People won't look fondly at your origins, trust me."

"Yeah, I know that part, but I have you. The mighty dragonrider."

Much as that was wonderful, Rhaenys shook her head. "Not as simple as that, my family…"

"Would they not want you happy?"

Rhaenys raised her hands in exasperation. "So tell me, Ygritte, what do you expect me to say when I arrive in King's Landing. 'Kepa, munas, everyone, I made it back! And brought a wildling lover with me!'" Mayhaps she was laying it on a little thick, but the redhead did have a thick head. "'She'll be sleeping in my bed and you don't get a say in it.' Is that what you'd want me to say?" Hands on her hips, she waited for an answer.

There was a pregnant pause before Ygritte responded. "It would be fuckin' hilarious if you did, and I'd certainly be your every fantasy that night if ye' did do that." Suddenly confronting her parents didn't seem so bad… Ygritte sighed though. "I see your point. I don't have ta' be anythin' but a Free Folk spearwife to know ya' gotta finesse this stuff - specially in yer' kneeler castles."

A smile. "Thank you for understanding." She leaned in and kissed Ygritte on the cheek. "They'll accept you, just don't draw too much attention to it. Like my grandmother and Jaime Lannister." Ygritte's eyes narrowed in confusion, to which Rhaenys snickered. "Better give you a fresher in the King's Landing Court, then."

The forest was thick with brambles, slowing them down as they pushed through. It was good for holding a conversation. "You can start it off with your last lover." Rhaenys went silent. "I know yer' weren't a blushin' maiden, plus you mentioned somethin' once, so spill."

"He was never in King's Landing?" Ygritte gave her a cross look, which was all the more piercing with those eyes and lips. "His name's Torrhen Karstark, and he's from the North. I met him in White Harbor."

"Don't know the fuck what White Harbor is, but I know that house. Bing one, hates wildlings."

"Yeah, but he loves me… I know it. Trying to go south with me as my sworn sword."

"Ah, a clingy one. I know that type… since I am that type." A giggle and a kiss to her cheek, to which Rhaenys wasn't completely against. "He won't like you comin' back with me."

A nod. "Given that family and how willful and proud they are, it won't end well… introducing you to my family will be much easier." Her parents aside… "My siblings and aunts will find you a breath of fresh air, especially Baelon."

"The future King Kneeler?"

"Of course even you wildlings know of him." It was amusing. "Yeah, he's the Crown Prince… also considered to be the prettiest of the children of King Rhaegar."

"Oooh, he's prettier than you, you say?" A mischievous twinkle formed in Ygritte's eyes. "Mayhaps I can steal him and scandalize the southerners with some half-free folk babes." She giggled like a girl - which in fact they both truly were.

Rhaenys scowled. "While nothing would scandalize the highborn more than to see Baelon the Beloved have half-wildling Waters… try that and you'll invite the wrath of my aunt - she's a dragonrider too."

The grin didn't change. "I ride dragonriders."

"Trust me, she'll put a sword up where you don't want a sword." Taking Ygritte by surprise, she yanked the wildling to her side. "Besides, I don't share."

The pair of cornflower blue eyes widened… then dilated. "You mean that?"

A nod. "Aye." They kissed, enjoying the sweet moment.

The sound of a distant growl drew their attention, lips drawing back and weapons drawn. Rhaenys prepared her sword while Ygritte nocked an arrow, moving back to back - almost seamlessly. "What was that?" There was nothing out there.

"Some animal?" Gods, Rhaenys hoped not. The growl was faint, but nothing could describe it except… the manifestation of terror itself.

"Not any animal I've ever fuckin' heard." The snow fell hard but without wind, dulling visibility but not the sounds. "Shhhh."

Rhaenys shut up, instead narrowing her eyes. Nothing but tree trunks amongst the snow, stabbing into the hazy sky. The growls continued until they stopped suddenly, Rhaenys unable to see even a…

"Shadowcat!" Ygritte's cry was joined by a bellowing roar shrill and inhuman that burst out of the snowfall. With each leap it revealed more of itself to the hazy sunlight. A blur, but a big damned one, with a maw open and raven-black fur streaked with blood. Fixed upon them, its claws and bared fangs were all Rhaenys could see.

Wait… are those eyes glowing blue…

Only about twenty feet away, Ygritte released an arrow - it smacked into the neck, but the beast kept charging. With the size of this thing, one arrow was not going to be enough. Rhaenys sheathed her sword and grabbed her spear just as Ygritte nocked another arrow. The shadowcat snarled just as the bowstring thwacked. The arrow punched deep through the fur and flesh of its shoulder and the beast faltered… but it was only a split-second.

It hurled itself in the air, claws out and teeth bared to sink into Ygritte's neck…

But that split-second was all it took for Rhaenys to thrust out the spear and kneel in the snow. The shaft pierced right where the heart was supposed to be.

Or perhaps not, for while the beast pitched back and on its side, the thrashing of leg and paw and head only belied it being very much in the fight. "Run!" Rhaenys yelled, forgetting the spear. She didn't need to tell Ygritte twice, for just as she rose her lover was taking off too. Nocking an arrow, but joining Rhaenys in a headlong flight through the trees.

They didn't get much of a head start. The shadowcat was nimble and shrieking, a quick look back finding it to be true, two glowing blue eyes filled with such a sheer bloodlust to turn even the blood of the dragon cold. Ygritte loosed another arrow at it, but with their running it missed, smacking into a tree trunk. They kept running, Rhaenys hearing another bloodcurdling cry from behind.

"We can't keep this up!" Rhaenys shouted.

"We turn, it kills us," Ygritte snarled back, only for an overhang to appear in front of them. "Fuck!"

Nowhere to go. They had to stand and fight…

Until Rhaenys sensed something at the overhang. Girl! She knew what she had to do. "Turn once we get to the cliff."

"No other thing to do, Princess." The beast roared behind as the cliff grew closer… "Now."

The attack was almost synchronous. Swivelling, Rhaenys drew her blade just as I nocked her arrow, which enraged the beast into pouncing. A mistake, for leaping off the overhang was Nysar, having disappeared to scout ahead. Ygritte loosed and the arrow hit… somewhere. Rhaenys hardly registered where the point pierced, more concentrated as she screamed and charged at the flurry of teeth and razor-sharp claws.

The shadowcat cried, pitched back from Nysar tearing at its flesh and claws digging into its fur. Rhaenys lurched to the side, slashing hard at one of its paws with her sword. The blade cut through fur and flesh and bone… only for Rhaenys to gasp. She was tossed to the side, falling on her back with her head against one of the trees.

Nothing felt except a searing pain in her abdomen. Courtesy of a swipe of the shadowcat's paw, enough to slice through her furs and the flesh of her stomach.

And here she was again, only now truly wounded. Her stomach hurt, hurt like what burning had to feel like - something she could only speculate since she was unburnt. Head spinning, it throbbed like the seven hells. Threatening to send Rhaenys into unconsciousness. No… must… protect her… She reached for her sword in the snow, ringing ears faintly hearing some sort of explosion.

Then a kneeing cry just as shrill as that of the shadowcat.

The darkness continued to beckon, teasing Rhaenys. Drawing her into the bliss of peace. "Rhaenys!" she heard. "Rhaenys!" Ygritte's voice grew fainter and fainter as the darkness enveloped the Targaryen Princess. Finally bringing bliss.