As One We Walk - Robb Stark [1]

Dreamers.

When Rhaella opened her eyes, she was in a room she had never seen before. The walls lacked their tell-tale ice between stones, which notified Rhaella that she wasn't anywhere near home.

The night outside was like black velvet, only interrupted by vague torchlight and the smattering of stars amongst the skies. Rhaella walked closer to the window to overlook the city. It was beautiful, with snow covering the buildings and laughter weaving through the alleys to make their way to her ears.

Rhaella was startled out of her thoughts when the door opened. She straightened her back and backed away as a young man stepped into the room. She had never seen a boy who looked like this man. A Westerosi.

He had dark brown curly hair, with a thin beard and broad shoulders. Most of his body was hidden by the various layers he had on, but Rhaella could tell that he was well-built. The furs around his bodice were nicely groomed, and unmatted. She expected him to say something to her, or even look at her, but the man did no such thing.

The thought of how he simply disregarded her made her want to turn her face from him in a show of discontent, but she couldn't make herself look away.

As he stepped into view of the window, his dark brown hair shown auburn in the moonlight, and Rhaella knew she was hopeless. His eyes were a crystal blue, a trait she had only seen in books and historic paintings.

The boy began to take off his heavy cloak, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. His back remained facing Rhaella, a bold move she decided.

The question of where she was, alone in this room with this strange and handsome man, came to the forefront of her mind once again.

She straightened her back and spoke loud enough to get his attention, but not loud enough to be deemed disrespectful or unladylike. She did not know how this man was raised, and she refused to assume he knew what respect, or restraint meant.

"I'm so sorry, I have no idea how I've gotten here. Or where it is that we are." She trailed off, looking around once more. They were further south than the Ice Citadel, that was obvious. She doubted they were even in New Valyria at all, for the man dressed as though the cold had an affect on him, and he had no Valyrian traits.

Their old and ancient magic allowed Valyrians to adapt to the temperatures around them. It meant that Rhaella could walk around naked in the frozen tundra that was the city Noviesk, and be completely unaffected. Not that she would ever do that, it sounded horrifying and she had always been slightly insecure of her figure.

But the way this man was bundled in warm clothing told her he held no such magic within himself.

The old magic stayed within. That was what Rhaella had always been taught. It didn't matter if it flared and burned and scraped at you from the inside. It stays within. That was how it warmed their bodies, by doing the one thing it was allowed to do.

The man completely ignored her and continued to undress until he was only in his pants and undershirt. Rhaella found herself admiring his physique once again. You could tell he was a warrior, something everyone wanted in a partner in Noviesk. He stood up after taking his boots off, and walked straight past Rhaella without even glancing at her.

Absolutely unnacceptable.

"Excuse me, do you not understand Valyrian?" It was then that she switched to the common Westerosian tongue. "Is this better? Do you understand me now?"

Her thick accent made her stubble over some words, which made her cheeks go pink with embarrassment. But the male just continued to ignore her in favor of taking his boots off.