𝓑𝓔𝓛𝓛𝓐𝓓𝓞𝓝𝓝𝓐, 𝑔𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 ²

𝙎𝙄𝙓, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺

ʻ 𝘪'𝘮 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭
𝘪 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭ʼ

MAELYS TARGARYEN has never felt so worn out in her entire life, neither mentally nor physically. She sits with her she-dragon, Vyka, on her shoulder right next to Daenerys, Jorah sitting just slightly off the other side of Maelys' sister, taking a drink of his water and sighing quietly, though still audibly. He opens his mouth, looking as if he's about to speak, but a horse approaching is seen and heard in the distance, and his attention along with the Targaryen's goes to the riderless horse.

Maelys is the first to stand up, ignoring Jorah's suggestion to wait for him, the girl curiously rushing over to the horse covered unsettlingly in something that from afar looks like red paint, but once closer looks more like... blood, much to Maelys' horror. As she gets closer, she sees a soaking-wet small bag attached to the side of the horse, some hair sticking out of it, as well as flies buzzing atop the sack.

"Khalakki-" Jorah starts as Maelys' hand reaches for the hair, but her curiosity beats the man's words, and the white-haired girl grabs the hair and pulls the object out of the sack.

A decapitated head is what sat inside.

The head of Rakharo.

"Qoy ki tih qoy." Maelys breathes out as she stumbles backward, dropping Rakharo's head back into the sack on the side of the horse, ending up stumbling into Jorah, who grabs the girl's arms to stabilize her. Blood of my blood.

"Maelys-" Jorah begins, looking more concerned than ever, turning the girl around to look at him face-to-face.

Before Jorah can finish speaking, Maelys abruptly turns around and pulls away from him, running off ahead of everyone else before he can finish speaking.

She wasn't sure where she was going, in all honesty. She just knew she wanted to be away from what she had just seen, Vyka now flapping her small wings at a rapid pace to keep up with her bonded as Maelys ran, ignoring the calls after her.

☼☼☼

BRAN STARK had never thought he would have these feelings towards anyone. And he had definitely not thought it would be a white-haired girl who had a dragon that sat on her shoulder or flew close to her head at all times that he had only ever seen or heard of in his dreams. A girl he wasn't even sure was real.

But, Gods, how he prayed at the foot of the weirwood in Winterfell's Godswood that she was.

"What do you pray for, Little Lord?" The voice of the Wildling woman called Osha snaps Bran out of his trance as he stares into the water, watching his reflection.

"What?" Bran furrows his brows, unsure of why the Wildling suddenly took such interest in his prayers to the Gods.

"What is it that you sit there for, every day, praying of?" Osha rewords her question in a slightly more mocking tone. "The return of your family perhaps?" Bran feels ashamed that when he prays, he prays for some strange girl from his strange dreams and not the safe return of his family, and it seems Osha picks up on this feeling as Bran's eyes continue staring into the glassy water. "Or not...?" The woman doesn't let up, staring at him with piercing eyes Bran feels like are burning a hole into the back of his head.

"There is a... a girl. From the dreams I have." Bran practically mumbles, but in the silence of the weirwood, Osha hears him clearly.

"Well...? Tell me about her, and I won't say anything to anyone." Osha blackmails Bran, and the young Stark boy realizes this was likely not a great idea to spill his secrets to the woman who had only recently tried to harm him. "Is she pretty, Little Lord? I'd hope so if she's taking up all of your prayers."

"Yes, she is... she is, uhm, very pretty." Bran hesitantly admits.

"What's she look like? What makes her so pretty to you, Little Lord?" Osha pries, and Bran feels like he has no other option than to tell her as he doesn't really want anyone to know, and he doubts the Wildling is bluffing when she says she'll snitch about what he thinks of.

"Well..." For some reason, Bran hadn't expected Osha to want details on the girl's appearance, but she had, and now he felt required to give them. "She has this long, kind of wavy hair that looks like snow and shines like it, too. Her skin is nearly pale as if she spends all her time inside or in the dark, but she dresses like she belongs in a desert. Her eyes are this shade of blue, where they look pale in dim light, but they seem to shine like gemstones in the sun." Bran hadn't realized just how much he seemed to like this girl until he had been made to tell someone else about it. "And she has a dragon." Bran isn't sure why he even told the woman that, but somehow despite her blackmailing, the Stark boy felt like he could trust her with that detail.

"A dragon?" Osha's interest seems to be even more piqued at the mention of a dragon. "She has a... dragon? Like, like a real, flying, scaled, dragon?"

"I don't even know if she's real. But whenever she comes up, she has it." Bran brushes his fingers across the surface of the water. "It's almost as pretty as her."

"Oh, almost as pretty as her, huh, Little Lord?" Osha's tone has gone back from surprised to mocking. "Well, from the way you talk about this girl, the dragon must be pretty damn majestic if you think it's almost as pretty as her."

"It is." Bran ignores the way his face flushes when Osha picks on him for how he described the girl, trying to push her from his mind for the moment. "The wings stand out the most."

"Huh." That's all Osha can say before Hodor comes stomping over to the weirwood and hoists Bran up into his arms, walking him back to the castle of Winterfell. "I expect more later, Little Lord!" Osha shouts after the Stark boy with a slight laugh.

Bran shakes his head and hopes Osha isn't serious about more detail, knowing it would only end in more torment and teasing from the Wildling woman based on how she had mocked him already.