[Contains GoT spoilers! This series follows Seasons 2 through 8 of Game of Thrones.] Rhaena Velaryon is the daughter of the late Lord of the Tides, Trysten Velaryon, and of the former Princess of House Targaryen, Visaerya Velaryon. Living on the isl...
[Coincides with 'The Battle of the Bastards'. Spoilers will ensue!]
The task of finding their allies proved difficult, but it was expected. Many of them saw Rain's silver white hair and panicked immediately. Some taunted her by exclaiming they just needed her dragons and Winterfell would be theirs. Many slammed their gates shut on them, but there were still few that helped them. They offered men, but it was nowhere near the size of Ramsay's army. However, everything they got helped. With all possible Houses recruited, they set up camp just a few miles from Winterfell.
In the early morning, the day before the battle, they rode to negotiate with the former bastard. Sansa spoke very little of who Ramsay Bolton was, only that he was as cruel as they come, and from her talks with Rain, the Velaryon decided he was crueler than anything ever in this world before. Rain rode by Jon's side as they galloped through the dark ironwood trees to the snowy clearing. They arrived first and waited almost an hour for the Bolton party to arrive. Jon glanced worriedly at Rain, then spoke to Sansa. "You don't have to be here." He told his sister as the red flag of Bolton approached them from the other side of the clearing.
Sansa, a fierce look about her beautiful face, refused. "Yes, I do."
Ramsay was a smug creature as he discussed the terms of Jon's surrender with a smirk dancing on his lips. He was pale, so pale like a ghost, with the darkest of coal black hair on his head. His eyes were a pallid blue and were very unsettling to watch as they rested on Rhaena several times. He eyed her with those pale orbs, making her shift uncomfortably and Jon glare menacingly as a warning. She felt like she was being examined, naked and on display for hungry eyes to prey upon. The smirk never left Ramsay's lips, if anything, it grew when he sensed her discomfort.
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He had a peculiar, horrifying charm to him. He talked as if he was a Lord his entire life, but with dark intent behind those words. His soft chuckles were anything but laughably contagious. The sinister sound killed all happiness. He boasted his numbers after Jon refused to surrender, his archers, his soldiers. Lord Smalljon Umber threw the head of Rickon's direwolf between the parties when Ramsay was asked for proof. Rhaena stared at it before turning her eyes to Ramsay just before his smirk was wiped from his face.
"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton." Sansa warned him dryly. "Sleep well." But that terrible smile only returned as Sansa charged her horse away from them. With her gone, Ramsay rested his eyes upon Jon.
"A fine woman, your sister." He told him. "I look forward to having her back in my bed." His pale eyes then turned on Rhaena, eyeing her once again hungrily. "Perhaps when you're dead, I'll take her as well." He added, giving her terrible chills and causing Jon to scowl angrily at him. Ramsay finished by threatening them all with his hounds, telling them they will eat their fill after going seven days with no food. Rhaena had not realized her eyes were widened with fear until Jon maneuvered his horse to her so he can touch her hand once Ramsay and his party had left. The sinister crowd galloped back to Winterfell that loomed closely in the distance, a beautiful sight of stone towers and a large castle between them. Will they live long enough to see it restored?
