𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 & 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙨, 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬

𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢 | 𝖆 𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ＲＨＡＥＮＥ ＳＴＯＯＤ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＡＬＣＯＮＹ ＯＶＥＲＬＯＯＫＩＮＧ ＴＨＥ ＣＯＵＲＴＹＡＲＤ， goosebumps rising on the parts of her skin that were not covered. Her dress was crimson. The thin wisps of fabric brushed around her ankles.

Loud laughs erupted from below her, drawing her attention away from the blue horizon. Her eyes flickered downward, meeting the Stark trio that had been practicing archery. Bran was sulking, his cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

Robb's laugh met her ears, making a smile flicker across her lips. He looked up at her, grinning with sparkling blue eyes.

Rhaene cocked a brow.

Robb nudged his head to the side, signaling for her to come down and join them. He watched her roll her eyes and smile, fighting the feeling that crept into his heart when she descended the stairs and sauntered toward the boys.

"You shouldn't laugh at him, you know," Rhaene advised, "I remember only a couple moons ago you were having trouble hitting the target as well."

"Aye, but you were the one who could not hit the bullseye."

Rhaene smiled encouragingly at Bran, who drew his bow back and shot another arrow. This one flew clean over the wall.

Again, loud laughs erupted. Jon and Robb were beside themselves with mirth. Rhaene sighed.

"And which of you were marksmen at ten?" Lord Stark asked sternly from the balcony. The laughter ceased. "Keep practicing, Bran." He nodded with an encouraging glance. "Go on."

Once more, Bran drew back an arrow and lined up his shot.

An arrow struck the target, but it was not Bran's.

Rhaene turned, spotting Arya standing a little ways behind them with a curved bow in her grip. Bran growled under his breath, throwing his bow down and chasing after his younger sister.

Rhaene smiled, imagining what it would have been like to have blood that wasn't thousands of miles away. She'd have been happier, perhaps.

A weight on her shoulders drew her out of her reverie. Her hands came up, holding the cloak to her while leathered fingers fastened the 'x' shaped straps on the front of it.

"You may have the South in you, Rhaene, but Winter is Coming." Robb's voice was serious, and his cold fingertips remained on the exposed skin of her collarbone.

"Perhaps," Rhaene said coolly, "or perhaps it is a silly saying created by Northern men to convince their ladies to wear warmer clothes."

"Aye," he agreed, "that may be true." His eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Ah'right love birds, come along. The patrols found a deserter." Theon stood a few feet away, grinning as his friends scowled at him.

Rhaene walked over to a guard. "Saddle Hūra, and bring him to the main gate." She walked back to her quarters to don more suitable clothes for the occasion.

When she emerged, she was wearing a beige coat - one that looked more like a dress than anything, that fell to the middle of her calves. The shoulders were extended ever so slightly, giving her a sturdier appearance.