She Wolf • |Book 2|

• Chapter Eleven •

"You were never a wolf," 

"Nor was I ever a dragon," she turned her head a little to the left so that she could see her sister. 

"A fox, that is what you are," Rayne stepped into her view, "Foxes are clever little creatures, smart." 

"They live until the hound hunts them." 

"I believe you outlived the hound."

She turned around, "That's because I befriended a wolf." 

"I believe you befriended three wolves, I'm just not sure of which one you speak of."

There was a moment of silence while Rhaella peered into the lavender eyes of her sister, "Does it matter? A wolf would have never had to save me if I never strayed from the lions," she turned away. "Besides, I've had enough of this silly talk. I'll rally what little support I have. The end is near."

"Your's or ours?" 

She took her time, glancing down into the courtyard while she held her tongue. "The white winds blow," Rhaella brushed away the layer of snow that covered the window sill, "the army of the dead is near. You know what you must do, and you will do it." 

"Are you sure this is what you want to do? Will you not wait for him, for Dany and her dragons?" 

"Waiting is no longer an option now," she turned around again, this time walking away from the window. "They are to march North immediately." 

Rhaella brushed past her sister, making her way for the door. Rayne turned around, "He's the rightful heir, you know? You may wish to rally your men and use father's name to do so, but in the end, he is to sit on the throne." 

She stopped, her eyes fell to her clasped hands, "I know," she whispered softly. "It was never the throne I wanted." Rhaella turned around to look at her sister, "It was him."

A sad smile twisted the small lips of Rayne, her lavender eyes filled with remorse. In her own heart, a sharp pain could be felt, "I know," she could feel her eyes filling with the tears Rhaella no longer allowed herself to shed. "He'll come to his senses." 

"I was better off with Robb," she said, "least then I would still be happy."

"I remember a time when it was all simple."

He did not seek her immediately after council, but he found her. At first, he simply stood beside her, watching as she observed the chaos below. But when she did not acknowledge him, he felt it would be best if he spoke to relieve the tension. And it had appeared to work.

"A time before Winterfell," she replied quietly. Jon studied her. Her very demeanor resembled Sansa's, but less warm. "Though I suppose it never was then either."

Rhaelle glanced his way briefly to show she was speaking to him before turning her gaze back to the yard. Jon clutched the rail, inhaling a deep, icy cold breath.

"She's a good queen, you know?"

"I don't care," she told him. For a moment he thought this would go on, that she would not once look at him again. And then she turned, her expression unreadable to him. "The North swore to never again bow to an outsider. And until they say otherwise, I am their queen."

This was the first time they had looked into each other's eyes in so long. He did not think it was possible to see fire in ice, yet here she stood before him, cold as winter, yet in the ice a fire burned.

"They would never abandon you," he said after some time. "They chose you."

"And they chose you." She turned from him, "they believed they chose right."