A Court of Thrones | Game of Thrones

Lord

Inn at the crossroads
Arabella Baratheon.

Bella slipped her fingers through his night-black hair, trailing a tender path along his scalp to the back of his neck as Jon nestled against the pillows. He hummed sleepily at her touch, making her smile.

Two months had passed since they'd set out, yet they'd spent achingly little time alone together. Thus, she'd insisted she needed a room at the crossroads inn. That was where they were now.

"Good morning, love," the princess whispered, shifting closer and kissing Jon Snow's cheek. She trailed her nails over his bare back lightly, feeling the heat coming off him. Her wolf was always warm.

Jon murmured, "That's nice."

A smile touched her lips as she shifted, moving to lie atop him, her cheek resting against his warm back as her fingers trailed slowly along his toned sides. Bella pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath her lips. Perhaps they'd stay in bed until the last moment of their stay at the inn. Now that she thought about it, that sounded rather nice.

After a while, Jon shifted beneath her, prompting her to lift herself just enough for him to turn onto his back. Then, a flutter in her belly, Arabella rested her chin against his chest, gazing up at her wolf. He rubbed her back over the black-and-silver nightie, planting soft kisses on her face, each one drawing giggles from her lips. Jon had learned that she liked being pampered quickly, Bella noted with approval.

Unfortunately, it seemed their morning in bed would be cut short—Jon had promised his sister a lesson.

She supposed she ought to get ready as well. Sighing, Arabella did just that. She dressed in a pair of fitted black pants, high leather boots, a white blouse with puffy sleeves beneath a bodice dotted with small buckles. Dark leather straps criss-crossed over her waist, layered with belts fitted with pouches and fasteners—comfortable yet practical. Maybe as a farewell to the ruby ford, the princess would go riding along the river.

Ghost, the white direwolf, seemingly decided to remain with her today. He followed her as she made her way outside.

Outside, Bella paused amidst the shouts, curses, and the creak of wheels as men broke down tents and pavilions, loading the wagons for the day's march. She turned to take in the inn—a sprawling, three-story building of pale stone. It accommodated less than a third of her father's party, which had now swelled to over four hundred with the addition of Lord Eddard's household and the freeriders who had joined them on the road. Ser Barristan, who seemed more contemplative than usual, shadowed her, his gleaming white cloak almost as stunning as the wolf's coat.

Before she went riding, Arabella thought it would be best to greet her little brother and sister.

As she neared the centre of camp, she spotted a crowd gathered around the wheelhouse. Bella heard excited voices buzzing like a hive of bees. The doors had been thrown open, she saw, and the queen stood atop the wooden steps to smile down at someone. She heard her saying, "The council does us great honour, my good lords."

"What's happening?" Arabella heard Sansa asking a squire.

"The council sent riders from King's Landing to escort us the rest of the way," he told her. "An honour guard for the king." Arabella moved closer to the girl, smiling as her love's sister blushed and curtsied quickly.

Ghost and Lady cleared a path through the crowd. People moved aside hastily for the direwolves. When she neared the carriage, Bella saw two knights before her mother. She only knew the one on the right.

His armour was steel plate of deep forest-green. He was near twenty, tall and powerfully built, with jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders and framed a clean-shaven face, and laughing green eyes to match his armour. Cradled under one arm was the antlered helm of their house, its magnificent rack shimmering in gold.