𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 & 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙨, 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬

XVII » LIFE ON THE ROAD

RHAENE WAS FED UP. HER FEET AND BACK ACHED, and she was seriously regretting agreeing to ride instead of sitting in a wagon.

They were making a hard march for Greywater watch, where they were to make camp for a week while battle plans were discussed and perfected.

The Greatjon rode up beside Rhaene, chuckling to himself. "Regretting your decision to come, my Lady?" he had a deep, gravelly voice.

Rhaene straightened in her seat, wincing. "I'll admit, my back would feel better if I was in a feather bed in Winterfell." She shrugged lightly. "But no, Lord Umber, I do not regret coming." She looked over at him. "Robb is my husband, and I go where my husband goes."

"Aye, but a battle camp is no place for a child."

Rhaene's eyebrows furrowed. "I am no child, Greatjon, and you would do well not to refer to me as such." She rolled her eyes, looking back towards the skyline.

"You're nearly seventeen years of age, little Lady," he responded, "you are still very young."

"And your Liege Lord is seventeen years old, does that make him a child?" Rhaene spat. "I may be young, but I know the way the world works."

"As you say, little lady."

When they camped for the night, Rhaene had never been happier to be off of Hura's back. She grunted as her feet touched the ground, knees nearly crumpling beneath her.

Hissing lightly, she forced herself to her feet and began to walk, wincing with every step. Robb's tent was the largest, and easiest to spot. When she walked in, he had already begun to undress.

"I had the men take a bathtub from the castle, I know your obsession with cleanliness." He spoke without even turning around.

"Good," Rhaene sighed, turning to a guard. "Have the men boil enough water for a bath, and bring it to me immediately."

"Yes, mi'lady."

Soon, her bathtub held enough scalding hot water to wash with. She sighed contently as she sunk into the liquid. The heat made her feel clean.

Robb sat beside the tub, dipping his fingers into the water. He drew back with a hiss, popping his reddened fingers into his mouth. "Seven hells," he muttered, "I have no idea how you stand it so hot."

Rhaene smiled brightly. "I am the blood of the dragon," she chuckled, "fire cannot kill a dragon."

She lifted her hand above the water, placing it on Robb's cheek and leaning in for a long kiss. Robb hummed against her lips, fighting the urge to climb in the bath with her. He'd never be able to stay without turning as red as a tomato.

After a couple of hours in the bath, Rhaene accompanied Robb in his makeshift bed. It was all cloaks and fine furs. "Goodnight, my love," she whispered to her slumbering husband.

He grumbled in his sleep, his arm snaking out and bringing her firm against his torso. Soon, Rhaene had joined him in his repose.

≽ ∗ ≼

Rhaene stood beside Robb on his war council, looking down at the map with narrowed eyes.