Immortalis

Winterfell.

It was Jon Aryyn's death that set off the chain of events leading to the scramble for the Iron Throne. The death of the hand of the king was mysterious and no one had yet discovered the cause. The Targaryen Princess stood in the shadows, her strangely platinum hair flowing down her back. She watched Queen Cersei and her Brother Jaime Lannister talking quietly on the other side of the room. She didn't know what they were talking about, but they both looked stressed and for a second, for the first time in the Princess's life, they both looked somewhat vulnerable. The corner of her mouth lifted in a sinister smirk before she disappeared out of the room.

A raven landed on the window of the room where the men of Winterfell were getting ready for the arrival of the King. It fluttered its wings and listened into the conversation. "Why is your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the king?" One of the men asked, he looked to be the youngest of the group of three men. The oldest was sitting down and being cleaned by an older man, another was leaning against a wooden pole. The oldest had curly dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, the eyes of a Tully. The youngest had curly black hair and dark grey eyes. The boy leaning against the wood had curly light brown hair and light green eyes. "It's for the Queen I bet; I hear she's a sleek bit of mink." The leaning boy replied, a glint in his eyes. "Or the Princess, she's supposed to be the most beautiful woman in King's Landing, her beauty is said to rival the Queen." He continued, biting his lip. "I hear the Prince is a right royal prick." The oldest one stated, while the man shaved his jaw. The raven tilted his head and watched on, taking the entire information in. "Think of all those southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick." The leaning boy countered, a hint of venom in his voice. "Go on, Tommy, shear him good." The oldest got up from his seat and slapped the youngest on the shoulder. The raven flew into the air, leaving Winterfell, and the shirtless men behind.
The Targaryen Princess sat atop her horse, Apollo, said to be the swiftest horse in the land. Her eyes turned from golden to violet, as she started concentrated on the road ahead once more. A black raven soared over to her and landed on her leather clad arm. It cawed once and flew away, leaving the Princess smiling at what she had seen through the eyes of her friend, the raven. The Princess had a connection with every animal; she had had the ability ever since she could remember. She had met the raven one day and ever since then they had a strong bond, much like the one she had with her horse, Adonis, and her wolf companion, Fenrir. She smiled and nudged Apollo's sides, he immediately set off into a canter and they caught up with the rest of the caravan, slowing to a walk next to the Prince, Joffrey. He smirked at her and looked her body up and down; she just rolled her eyes in response as Fenrir growled. Winterfell loomed in front of them; the cold wind surrounded the keep covered in snow. The caravan moved slowly, to slow for her liking, and so she turned Apollo to the side and cantered away, Fenrir by her side. No one seemed to care though; she had been doing this for the whole trip from King's Landing. The trio would disappear for a few hours and then meet up a few hours later, this is how they practised, their hunting and tracking, although it wasn't that hard considering they had many guards and a large carriage. The Princess, wolf and horse all retreated into the forest, leaving the caravan behind.

The Princess woke up to Fenrir nudging her leg; he was curled up by her feet, but looked like he had been awake for a few minutes. She sighed and looked at the sky. "Shit." She muttered, before getting up and shaking her dress off. She, Fenrir and Apollo had stopped to rest for a while and had fallen asleep. She tightened the strap on Apollo's saddle and placed her foot in the stirrup, hauling herself up. Looking down, she noticed Fenrir had her bow and quivers in his mouth and was leaning his head up to her. She gratefully took it and strapped it to her back. Apollo shifted anxiously under her and she rubbed his neck gently. "Hey Fenrir, race you to Winterfell." The Princess challenged, the wolf didn't wait a second and took off into the forest. Apollo didn't need any encouragement after that, he followed the large wolf instantly, his swift hooves pounding against the hard ground and leaping over fallen logs.