The Dragon & The Wolf - XXXIV (Patreon)

Chapter XXXIII: Your choice, is not the one you thought.

Rhaenyra was enjoying the North far too much.
The day Arthur had confessed his feelings to her had been a great day, she had spent most of it with her lover, cuddling under the weirwood like a couple of cats. Talking about everything that could go through their heads even though it seemed of little importance compared to each other’s presence.
Of course, Arthur was still injured, meaning he needed to take care of himself, was he doing it though? Well, of course not, he was stubborn, but he was quickly remembered that Rhaenyra was as stubborn as he was.
Could it be considered as their first fight as a couple ? If so, it was an undisputed victory for the Princess.

Relentless, she had threatened to chain him to his bed. Even though she had accepted to go to his solar and bring him his work so that he could keep being the North’s Regent in his bed, she remained by his side as often as she could, watching over him like a dragon watches over her eggs. At his demand though, she had handled the petitions in Winterfell’s great hall. However, since she did not know nearly enough to fix the problems or disputes the petitioners brought before her, she had written everything down and brought it to Arthur who took the decisions and let her be his voice in the Northern court.

Rhaenyra was amazed by the aura that she seemed to have among Northerners, she knew the battle at the Wall had a lot to do with their respect, but she suspected that the presence of Shadow by her side amplified her presence.
However… She suspected that Arthur was… What did he say it was? Warging? Yes, warging inside Shadow to watch over her. When she first realized that possibility, she had turned towards the direwolf and furrowed her brows.
"Are you watching me, Arthur?" She had asked with an impassive voice.
She had looked deep into the wolf’s yellow eyes, who tilted its head to the side. She got no proof, nor confirmations, but that did not prevent her from confronting Arthur when she dined with him in his chambers.
"You were watching over me." She had said, it had not been a question.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Had been Arthur’s answer. Though it had been far too diplomatic for her to believe it.

"Have you ever used that magic of yours to spy over me?"

Arthur had huffed an undignified sound, but the memory of Storm’s End had flashed through his mind. He quickly chose another one.

"Well… One of my rats did catch you leave the Red Keep when your uncle had dragged you into the streets of the capital." He had said, hoping to divert her attention.
And it had worked, for Rhaenyra though of Daemon for one of the first times since his exile.

"I see." She had simply answered, trying to bury the memory of her uncle.

But Arthur, loyal and attentive Arthur, had had to ask.

"You’re still angry at him, aren’t you?"

"And why wouldn’t I be?" The princess had said, defensively. "You’re angry at your brothers and father, aren’t you? I haven’t seen any of them."

The Northman rose his hands in defense.

"I’m not your enemy, Rhaenyra, please. And I’ve told you plenty about my family, but we’ve never spoken about your relationship with Daemon. Do you want to talk about it?"

Rhaenyra wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to. Daemon’s betrayal had hit hard, harder than she had expected. And events had followed one another too quickly for the Princess to actually think about what her uncle’s betrayal had meant to her.

She did not want to fight with Arthur or be cold to him because of Daemon, he had caused more than enough problem already by being the catalyzer of that ridiculous trial her father had put her northman through.

She had pushed her food away and went to sit on Arthur’s bed so he could wrap an arm around her shoulder and she could put her head on his shoulder.

"I hated it. What he did to me, the way he tried to play me. If it wasn’t for you, he would have gotten what he wanted out of me. And I would have been forced to marry him. I…"

She swallowed back a tear that had threatened to flow down her cheek.

"I used to love him, you know? Not how I love you, but I admired him. I thought he was the greatest man in the Seven Kingdoms, the ideal Valyrian man like Aegon or Jaehaerys. I used to fly with him as often as he was in the capital since I was a little girl and Syrax was large enough to carry me, he offered me so many wonders from the World, I dreamed of the day I would fly with him to Essos or even Yi-Ti. Living a life of adventure flying above the rest of the world with him by my side. But what he did, the way the tried to trick me… It shattered everything, it made me question everything, and then I realized… I realized that what he had actually desired… Was my father’s throne, and that he saw me the same way all of my pretenders had seen me; a walking Valyrian womb for his offspring."

Arthur had tightened his grip around her shoulder, supporting her as best as he could.

"The fact that he is my blood makes it even worse." She had added. "How can I trust anyone if I can’t trust my own family? It made me realize… How alone I truly was."

She rose her head, her shiny purple eyes met Arthur’s beautiful grey eyes.

"I’m sorry… For what I said that night." The northman had whispered.

"Don’t be." Rhaenyra had smiled softly, bringing her face closer. "It was that night that I realized how much I cared about you, how you meant to me. I love you, Arthur, because you’re the greatest man in my life."

She had enjoyed their kiss, she always enjoyed kissing him and suspected she would keep doing so until the end of her life.

When they separated, Arthur had chuckled.

"I really need to work on a way to express my feelings as well as you. You’re far too good at this."

"Far too good, huh?" She thought as she walked in Winterfell’s courtyard remembering that night. "You’re good too, Arthur, you’re good at making me feel at home."

It had been a week since their mutual confession under the weirwood, and a day after their discussion on Arthur’s bed. Rhaenyra felt at peace, her father was still far and Winterfell was an excellent place to ease her nerves. Soon, they would hold a feast to celebrate their victory over the wildlings, and later, they would announce their betrothal.

Rhaenyra felt light and happy, free from the pressure that had been on her shoulders since the day her father had named her heir. She was in such a good mood that she almost did not realize that Shadow was going to the kennels, which surprised her, for the direwolf had never left her side since she convinced Arthur to remain abed. Intrigued, she followed the beast. The kennels were lively, the many dogs it contained remained quite at Shadow’s passing, which made Rhaenyra smirk, the dogs knew who was the Alpha in this castle.

When they reached the last cell, she realized who Shadow had come to see, his brother Giant.

Giant’s fur was an elegant brown that reminded Rhaenyra of Autumn’s leaves, his eyes were darker but still brown. The injuries it had received beyond the Wall had been more numerous and more serious than those Shadow had received. Its leg had been bandaged and stretched in a splint. Its wounds closed and its brown fur cleaned. Rhaenyra wondered if the Maester was responsible for this, or if Arthur had gotten out of his bed behind her back to treat the poor creature.  Cregan Stark, Arthur’s six-year old cousin, was kneeling next to his rubbing his head while muttering words that Rhaenyra identified as excuses.

"I’m sorry… I’m sorry, boy… I should have been more careful."

The Princess cleared her throat to let her presence be known, startling Cregan who instantly stood up.
"P-Princess." He stammered. "Hello!"

She smiled at him, he was so adorable, she pictured Arthur at his age in her head. It enlarged her smile.

"Hello, Cregan." She said in a sweet voice. "Is this a bad time? I wanted to thank your friend here for saving my dragon and I."

Cregan blushed and looked at his boots, mumbling a bunch of unintelligible words that almost made Rhaenyra laugh out loud.

"Can I meet him? Giant, I mean. We didn’t really have time to get acquainted beyond the Wall."

"Oh! O-of course, Princess."

Rhaenyra took a knee near the brown direwolf and pulled off her glove, allowing Giant to sniff her hand.
"Hello, you." She cooed. "I have heard so much about you, Giant, are you as nice as your brother? Or perhaps you’re even nicer?"

The brown direwolf kindly licked her hand, making her laugh. Shadow lowered his own head and gently pressed it against Rhaenyra’s cheek, earning another laugh from her.

"Oh you boys just love getting spoiled, don’t you?" She said as she scratched both their heads, the direwolves seem to enjoy her touch.

She smiled at Cregan, who looked fascinated by the way Shadow and Giant treated the Princess, no one but Arthur and he could get this close to them, and she was doing it with such ease…

"Why were you apologizing to him, Cregan? It wasn’t your fault he got hurt."

At her words, Cregan’s blush turned into a shameful one.

"It was." He denied. "It was my fault I got captured…"

"No it wasn’t." Rhaenyra said, her tone firm. "You’re a boy, Cregan, you’re too young to take any responsibility in a battle. Believe it or not, Arthur was responsible, he knows it. And even I am responsible for letting Syrax get hurt and putting ourselves in danger for Arthur, Shadow and Giant to save us. You’re a boy, Cregan, do not be harsh on yourself, you’ll have time to do so when you’ll be a man. Trust me."

Cregan nodded, but Rhaenyra could tell that something was still on his mind with the way he was biting his lower lip. The Princess took his hand, earning another blush from it.

"What is it?" She asked with reassuring smile. "You can tell me, you know? I won’t tell Arthur if you don’t want me to."

Cregan stuttered again but Rhaenyra was patient, she gently pressed his hand and waited for him to find the courage to say what was on his mind. Yet the more Cregan looked at her, the more embarrassed he was.

He reminded Rhaenyra of all the young suitors she’s had to deal with during her courtship, she had enough experience now to handle such a profile.

"It’s… It’s not that I don’t want to tell you." Cregan said, his voice low. "It’s that… Arthur forbid me to say anything to anyone."

Rhaenyra furrowed her brows, but she quickly smiled at him again.

"Cregan… I know all of Arthur’s secrets…"

"At least, I hope I do." She thought, remembering everything he had told her under the weirwood, it had taken her days to sort everything out and get a full picture of the mysteries that surrounded Arthur.

"… You don’t have to hide anything from me. I’ll soon be a part of your pack after all."

Cregan’s eyes lightened as if she had just given him a wonderful present.

"You… You are?"

"Shh." She put a finger on her lips and winked at him. "It’s a secret, nobody knows yet, so don’t talk about it to anyone, but yes, Arthur and I will be married soon."

Rhaenyra's smile grew larger as Cregan’s grey eyes lit up in pure joy, he was almost too adorable to be a northerner. She wondered if any child she’d have with Arthur would end up as adorable as that one.

The heir to Winterfell pondered her words for a few seconds, then, he got out of the cell to make sure no one was listening to them, and came back to Rhaenyra while anxiously playing with his fingers.

"I… I…" He knew what he wanted to say, but seemed to look for the right words to phrase it. "I… I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about… I mean… I had… Nightmares about… about that thing… That thing you… killed."

Rhaenyra blinked, once, twice, when she finally processed what Cregan was implying, her eyebrows shot up to the roof. She instantly stood up and took his hands in hers.

"How do you know about it, Cregan?" She asked, her tone far more serious. "Did Arthur tell you?"

The Heir to Winterfell kept staring at his boots, the Princess put a finger under his chin and raised it so that their eyes could meet.

"Tell me, Cregan." She said in a far gentler voice. "How do you know about what happened?"

Cregan remained silent though, his eyes drifted to his injured direwolf. Rhaenyra followed his gaze, and finally, she understood, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

"Skinchanging." She whispered to him, growing his eyes into saucers. "You were there, beyond the Wall inside Giant’s mind."

Cregan struggled to answer, he simply did not know how to react. Rhaenyra understood, this was probably something he only shared with Arthur, he did not know how to interact with other people regarding skinchanging. But as he was, once again, looking for his words, the Princess replayed their encounter with the White Walker in her head, adding the presence of Cregan inside his wolf’s mind.

"That’s why he was so sorry about Giant." She thought. "He was the one who had attacked that thing, not Giant. That broken paw is technically his fault. But then it means that he tore off an actual giant’s throat and attacked the Other."

It was hard for Rhaenyra to imagine this adorable child acting like a bloodthirsty direwolf. Arthur’s words regarding the potential bonds their children would share with their dragons came back to her mind, if that six year old boy could kill as a direwolf, what could they do?

She swept away this question for now, but she now understood fully why Arthur was so concerned.

"That means I have to thank you too, for rescuing Syrax and I." She said to Cregan, smiling once more. "You’re very brave for a boy so young."

Cregan’s eyes filled themselves with tears that started flowing down his cheeks.

"That even must have eaten him from the inside." Rhaenyra realized, holding his hands. "He probably did not tell Arthur that he had skin changed inside Giant, out of fear to be reprimanded for his carelessness."

"Cregan, it’s not your fault Giant got hurt, neither Arthur nor I ever imagined that thing would come out of the woods." A thought suddenly went through her mind. "Did you tell anyone? About that thing ?"

Cregan shook his head, sniffing out of guilt. Rhaenyra pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping away his tears.

"It’s all right, nobody’s mad at you. I’ll talk to Arthur, he won’t be mad I promise. And if he is, I’ll be mad at him and trust me, I can be a lot scarier than him."

Cregan giggled between his sobs, it took him a bit of time but he calmed down and hugged Rhaenyra, breathing a heavy sigh of relief against the Princess’ shoulder.

She wasn’t used to be this close to children, Aegon and Helaena weren’t that old and she had a hard time handling them whenever she spent some time with them. Which wasn’t very often.
Cregan was different though, he was adorable, he smiled and blushed at her, the fact that he was a bit older made things easier, he understood more than her half-siblings.

Perhaps the fact that he was not of her blood made it easier for her to accept his attention, and let’s not forget the fact that he actually protected her by skinchanging inside his direwolf.

Once the hug ended though, he went back playing with his fingers, as if he’d suddenly remembered something that he’d forgot to mention and that might change things.
"What is it?"

"I… I told my father… about the Oth… I mean, the thing."

Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed.

"Your father?"

(-)(-)(-)

Sara Snow wiped away the sweat from her forehead and kept on scrubbing her father’s rotting flesh. Ignoring the horrible smell that came from it.

Despite Maester Alim’s best efforts, gangrene had spread on her father’s body in the past few days, a sign that the poison, despite everything the Maester had tried, was slowly becoming more effective. Her father had fought for months, resisting with everything that was left in those old bones of his, but the only thing he had managed to do was delaying his death. Soon, he would be no more, and all that’d be left to do was put him to rest in Winterfell’s crypts with their ancestors. Despite everything, Sara did not want to give up, she couldn’t let her father alone while he was dying in agony, no matter how many times he told her that she could not save him. How could she move on while he was still alive and in pain? She would remain by his side, no matter what he said, she refused to leave his side, and if he were to die, then she’d hope that her presence would bring him a bit of comfort.

Every day she came here, her father received no visitor except for the Maester and sometimes Cregan, but she would always make sure the smell and their father’s gangrene were covered, Cregan did not need to see what was happening to him at that age and Rickon wanted his son’s last memories of him to be good ones.
Apart from her, Maester Alim and Cregan though, her Father received no visitors, even the Lords of the North seem to have forgotten about him now that they had another Stark to follow. And Arthur did not come either, mostly because he had too much to do and both her cousin and her father were too stubborn to be sentimental, even at Rickon’s imminent death. The Lord of Winterfell trusted his regent to handle the North and to give him the proper funerals, that was enough for both of them, nothing else needed to be said, apparently.

So… Imagine her surprise when none other than Rhaenyra Targaryen came to knock at the door.

As they stood in front of one another, Sara slightly frowned, she wasn’t sure what to think of the Princess. She never expected Arthur to marry for anything but duty, yet those two seemed to genuinely love one another. Which meant that the Princess had made things far more complicated for their family, she was bringing far too much attention, and she had a bloody dragon. What was Sara supposed to do with those two?
"Princess." She greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello Sara, is Lord Rickon… in well enough condition for me to meet him?"

The bastard girl’s frown deepened. Her father could technically handle a conversation, but she did not want him to waste too much strength. The more he spent, the less time in this world he’d have. But… She knew her father would say ‘yes’, so she let her in without a word.

Rhaenyra had a hard time keeping a straight face as the smell of rotten flesh invaded her nostrils. Lord Rickon Stark was a tall man who had only lived forty-eight years, yet, when Rhaenyra saw him, she could not help but notice how older he looked.

Not only his face was as wrinkled as a seventy year old man, but he was thinner than some prisoners in the black cells, he was covered in sweat, and Rhaenyra was scarred of discovering something rotten under those sheets if she were to pull them off.

Yet, when their eyes met, he smiled a little despite his pale face.

"Princess." He greeted. "It is a pleasure to meet you, pardon me, I doubt that I could kneel given…"

"There is no need, Lord Rickon." She assured trying to sound as gentle as possible. "Please forgive me for not coming sooner."

"There is nothing to forgive, Princess. We didn’t have much to say to one another except ‘nice to meet you’ and ‘farewell’. I would have found it annoying. I suppose that if you’ve decided to grace a dying man with your presence, it is because you wish to speak of a matter that does not concern my imminent death. Please do so, I’m glad I can be of service in this damn bed."

Rhaenyra snorted at Rickon’s bluntness, he had spoken like a true Northerner.

"Do you mind if we speak, privately I mean."

Sara opened her mouth to protest but Rickon weakly raised his hand to silence her.

"Peace, Sara, if the Princess wishes to speak to me privately, she must have a good reason, a reason I’m curious to hear. There is no need to be wary, if she wishes to end my suffering she’d be welcomed. There is nothing she can do that I am not already feeling."

Sara closed her mouth, upset but obedient, she left the room with an angry step. Rhaenyra was almost surprised she did not slam the door.

"I love her." Rickon admitted, looking at said door. "I’ve lost my first wife and our unborn child a year before I conceived Sara on one of my servants when I was trying to drown in misery. A very nice girl named Willa, her stew had been the only thing that had brought me a bit of joy in those trying times. The daughter she gave me healed my bleeding heart, bastard or not, she is a sweet girl and a part of this pack. I hope you understand this, if you truly wish for Arthur and you to be married in front of our gods."

"I do." Rhaenyra genuinely answered. "Though I fear she doesn’t like me much."

"She’ll come around, what was it that you wanted to speak about, Princess?"

Rhaenyra instantly regained her seriousness, she took a deep breath and spoke, her tone grave but confident:

"Cregan told me, that he had shared with you what he’d seen beyond the Wall."

Rickon looked at her for a second, his eyes remained stoic, emotionless, a barrier to his thoughts.
"Cregan is a boy…"

"Neither Arthur nor I are as young, and we saw it."

A long moment of silence passed as the dying lord and the young princess looked at each other trying to assert one another, this was no friendly conversation anymore, there was a point to make in this discussion.
Arthur had told her that no one would believe them, but she wanted to believe that Rickon Stark would, especially considering his imminent death.

"Cregan said you killed the thing, not Arthur, you. How?"

"I stabbed him in the back." She unsheathed her dagger. "With Valyrian steel."

Rickon held out his hand to take the dagger, the poor man only had skins and bones left, but the blade did not fall from his grasp.

"What do you know of the Walkers?"

"Everything that Arthur has told me." She said. "I knew nothing of them before I saw it, I didn’t even know what an ‘Other’ was, despite wishing they’d take me as many times as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

Rickon chuckled, coughed, and said:

"Then you know more than I do, there is nothing I could tell you that would potentially help you. I don’t think you’re lying, Princess, but something like this… No man can believe such a tale unless he sees with his own eyes, and mine will be closed soon."

His answer should not have frustrated Rhaenyra, but it did nonetheless. He believed her but not fully, how could she convince anyone but Arthur or her father about Aegon’s dream if even a dying northerner who trusted her words did not fully believe her?

Rickon took a deep breath, one to ease his growing pain, he spoke again:

"But… If Arthur and you truly saw it… Then what are you two going to do about it?"

"We don’t know. We have no idea how we could convince anyone about what we saw."

"Without proof, solid proof, you won’t. And even if you did, no one is made enough to go all the way to the Lands of Always Winter to attack them. You can only act if the Long Night returns."

"But that could be in another millennium. How can we act if we’re dead?"

"By preparing the next generation, and making sure they’d prepare the one that’ll follow and all the others. It is the only way, you can truly prepare for something like this, my girl. You’re the first people who saw a creature we thought only existed in legends, because we forgot who we are and who are ancestors had been. Do not make the same mistake. »

Rhaenyra considered this point for a second, she had Aegon’s prophecy and dagger, but what could she do besides adding her testimony to the prophecy? Will she even be believed, Aegon’s prophecy could be more believable if it is a threat no one understands, adding the myth of the Others, could have the opposite effect on her father’s heirs.

"I am not sure what we can do." She confessed. "Arthur and I are not sure where we’ll live in the coming years after Cregan is old enough to rule over Winterfell, I don’t know if our children could believe us or what they could change, and I don’t think my half-siblings would believe me."

Her words fell into the ears of dying man, but said dying man was not deaf, he understood what they meant.

"You’re renouncing your claim to the throne." His tone was solemn, but neutral. "Arthur did not tell me that."

Rhaenyra sighed, she knew she needed to justify herself.

"We think that… That we won’t be able to make enough alliances to prevent a war for the throne, that is why, I’m renouncing it. I want to be with Arthur, the throne… doesn’t matter without him by my side."

Rickon looked at her, longly, not enough to make her uncomfortable but enough to get a good measure of her.
"In ordinary circumstances, I would have commanded you for you peacefulness and pragmatism, but those are not ordinary circumstances. I do not think you should renounce your claim to the throne."

Rhaenyra’s eyebrows rose, then furrowed.

"Why?"

"Arthur and you, you saw that thing, you know they’re coming, you have only one chance to take advantage of this piece of information, to prepare the Realm for what is to come, and that is by putting your blood on the Iron Throne. Only through the throne and your blood will your warning cross the generations, warning them one after the other, always making sure we are ready before it is too late. When… not if, if you truly saw them then you know, when they’ll arrive, they’ll either find a divided Realm, or a united one. And the only way to unite the Realm is through the Iron Throne. Either you take it, to protect the future, or you abandon it, to secure the present. Such, is your actual choice, Rhaenyra of House Targaryen."