Among Lions and Wolves • |Book 1|

.chapter three.

Warm, she felt warm. It was not the kind of warmth she longed for, the kind that had made her feel alive and safe. No, this warmth was the kind that left you gasping for air and removing pieces of clothing that covered your body.

She felt uncomfortable, sticky, and struggled to breathe. Opening her eyes, Rhaella stared straight at the ceiling. For a split second, she thought herself to be back in her father's castle, half expecting to hear the bickering of her sisters as they argued.

That's how it had been when she was there last. Sofera and Jayne fighting endlessly about who would marry this lord or who got the last of the bread. Fighting had been a common thing there. Seven girls, one father, very little to support them all.

It was why she was here, in the care of Cersei, the Queen. That and because of the accident. Tydore favored his youngest, Rhaella was everything like her mother, from the raven black hair, pale skin to the blue eyes. She even had her laugh, he once told her.

She knew nothing of the woman whom's name she shared. She had been departing from the womb the moment her mother drew her last breath and had it not been for quick thinking, she would have followed. Pushing aside the memories, she pushed aside the heavy fur pelts that covered her and sat up.

"Rest, my sweet," a voice called from her left. Cersei rose from her position near the fire to sit beside Rhaella. "I shall return after the feast to check on you."

"Am I not to go?" She croaked. Cersei smiled, reached over for a cup and held it out for Rhaella.

"Drink," she encouraged, "You have not been well. Everyone will understand if you do not turn up to the feast."

She lowered her eyes to the cup in her hand, she noticed the liquid was clear, water. Rhaella brought it to her lips, realizing how parched she had been when the cool tasteless liquid touched her tongue and travel down her dry throat.

"Good," There was a light in Cersei's emerald green eyes, Rhaella noted when she looked up at the queen to smile softly. "Now," Cersei stood up, taking the cup from Rhaella and placing it on the small table by the bedside and then turned back to her. "Sleep child. I shall be back soon."

And without another word, a gentle kiss on her forehead, Cersei left the room, closing the door behind her.

Rhaella sat in her stuffy borrowed chamber, her eyes glued to the door, her mind reeling. She could hardly think at the moment. Her brain felt fuzzy and the room unbearable.

With little difficulty, she removed herself from her bed, pulled on her warmest slippers and threw on a thick cloak over her shift.

She needed air, fresh cold air.

Rhaella slipped from her room, careful not to draw attention to herself. She had been inappropriately dressed and the hour quite late to be wandering about by herself, not while a feast raged on in the hall and men were drinking themselves into oblivion.

She slipped into the dark, cool courtyard, the sound of music and laughter filling it as she hurried along in the shadows to where the animals were kept.

She entered the dimly lit stable, the snorting of a horse toward the end relaxing her with each step she took. The smell of straw, leather, and horse manure hung in the air. She did not find the smell pleasant but at the same time, it did not repulse her.

Silently, she walked along the aisle, stopping to greet any horse that hung its head out the stall.

She had been standing in front of a dappled gray when the heavy footsteps attracted her attention. Looking up, she saw a large man clad in gold, stumbling his way into the stable. From where she stood, five boxes down, the heavy scent of wine clung to him as the smell of perfume to a whore.

Dark eyes peered through a veil of greasy black hair. There was a hungry look in his eyes as he licked his lips and staggered forward, his words jumbled together as he spoke.

Rhaella, frightened, stumbled backward, doing her best to put some distance between them.

"Don't come any closer," she warned, her shaky voice betraying her. "I-I'll scream!"

The man stopped, stood up straight and grinned. His teeth were yellow, crooked and rotting. Despite the freshly polished armor he sported, he was no knight nor a part of any man's army. He had been a poor man who had stolen the armor he wore and had somehow found his way here, or perhaps the Lord of Winterfell accepted any man into his guard.

"Scream girl," his voice hoarse. "I'll 'ave plenty o' friends that'll wan' ta try ya."

He advanced, seizing her silence as a perfect opportunity to do so. She stepped back, her back pressing up against a wall. Tears stung her eyes as she began to panic.

He was in front of her now, his rancid hot breath making her feel sick. She wanted to run, to scream but all she could manage was to turn her head and sob.

His mouth was inches from her ear, words she did not quite understand being uttered into it. One hand pressed against the wall while the other removed her cloak leaving her in only her shift. Then he began to untie the strings that kept it from falling off her shoulders.

"Please," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't!"

A dirty, rough, calloused hand covered her mouth and forced her head back against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to resist as best as she could while he tried to remove her shift with his other hand.

He growled, both angry and impatient, and removed his hand from her mouth so that he could hold both her hands above her head. With his other hand, he fished out a dagger and brought it up to her chest. Careful not to knick her, he slid the sharp blade down her shift, cutting it away to leave her exposed.

He tossed aside the knife when he was done and went to work with freeing himself from his breeches. Rhaella struggled, trying to free herself from his grasp but failed.

He removed her from the wall and threw her onto the ground. Wincing from the collision, she rolled onto her side. He was struggling to untie his pants leaving her with the perfect opportunity to run.

She scrambled to her feet, trying to make a dash for it. His hand snaked around her bare arm, yanking her back. She let out a cry of pain as she fell back against the ground.

Free at last, he walked to her and lowered himself down, pushing apart her legs with both hands. He had lowered himself onto her and had readied to enter her when a low growl caught his attention. He looked up and then behind him, he saw nothing.

Shrugging it off, he refocused his attention on Rhaella. Just as he was repositioning himself and forcing her legs back apart, something lunged at his throat and forced him off her.

Rhaella realized he was no longer on her and crawled far away, her body pressed up against a stall, curled into a tight little ball while she sobbed into her knees.

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*clears throat* So I assume those reading this have seen the show and are of age because if not, I know this isn't detailed but this is ... uh ... detailed.

This was also over my thousand word limit and the sad part is that it's not even finished. So I will have to two-part it.
And I know Ghost is only a pup but he's a direwolf ... I'd like to think direwolves are bamf.

Another note, this was really uncomfortable for me to write.
And then I proofread it and it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was.