A Dance of Frost and Flame

8. Realization

Visenya was in and out of consciousness. Her body was freezing, but she felt warmth all around her. Whatever position she was in, wherever she was, it was uncomfortable.

Her body was bouncing; it felt rough on her joints, and with every bump, pain soared through her stomach wound. She groaned now and then. Or, at least, she thought she was making noise. She wasn't entirely sure; her mind was foggy and disoriented.

The creaks of a large gate woke her. Still dazed and confused, Visenya raised her head to look at her surroundings.

She was sitting limply on a horse, the snowfall making her face cold. Visenya turned to see who was holding her upright; it was Cregan. She squinted at him.

He looked down at her, "Princess, are you alright?"

"Mmm," was all she could reply. Blinking away the sunlight, she recognized the castle walls.

Winterfell.

She assumed the guards had ordered everyone away, as the main areas were clear of people. She was glad for that, at least. One too many people have already seen her in such a disgraced state.

They were at the doors to the castle. Cregan got off first, and she remained awkwardly on the large horse until he offered his hands to her. "Can you walk?" He asked.

She nodded weakly, though she didn't know if that was true. What better way to find out than to do it?

Visenya slipped off the horse into his grip, and he steadied her. She dismissed him, attempting to follow on her own. Upon letting her go, Cregan watched as she wobbled on her left foot, hand over her stomach.

She stumbled to the side and had no choice but to use her injured ankle to give her some stability, but the pain soared through her lower leg, and she winced, letting out a small whimper.

Cregan stepped forward and took her arm. She didn't object as he led her into the castle.

Visenya finally felt the sense of security she had longed for in the previous days. Back in her room, Cregan stood over her with the maester by his side; she was mute, entirely at a loss for words.

What could she say to him in such a state? She figured she should be thanking him, but her throat was dry—empty.

She realized Jace had not come for her; he sent only a raven. He had a dragon, and he did not even try. She didn't know what was worse: him not attempting to find her or not being here waiting for her.

Cregan came for her. A man she had known for only a few days. Did he do it out of honor? Or was he expecting pay and recognition from her mother? She could not look at him as she thought.

She stared ahead as the maester asked to lift her shirt to check the damage. The wound was lightly bleeding, but she did not move, could not move.

"Princess, I must treat it now." The older man stated, waiting for a response. He looked at his lord with uncertainty.

Cregan returned the same gaze. "Visenya?" The silver-haired girl did not reply. The maester was still staring questionably at Lord Stark. He nodded to him and then gestured for him to continue.

The older man approached Visenya, extending his arm to the girl's shirt. She flinched and immediately reached for his throat. She kept a tight grip, eyes darting into his with a glare so murderous and vicious one could almost compare her to her namesake.

He froze, hands at his side, as he surrendered, gagging for air. Cregan stepped forward, and he grabbed her hand to rip it off the maester in one rapid movement.
He held her hand even after. She knew it was not to restrain her; it was much too gentle. Instead, he knelt in front of her and offered a look of sympathy. She did not need sympathy. He had already saved her, and that was embarrassing enough.