CHAPTER ONE ❝new revelations.❞ act i‚the dragon and the wolf
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—WINTERFELL, 298 AC
TO any outsider the North was considered to be the most isolated and mysterious Kingdom out of the seven. It was cold and bleak with little to no colour. The sun rarely poked out from under the dark clouds leaving the air freezing and grim. The Kingdom was an everlasting stretch of frozen pine and green fields. Rhaenys often forgot that it was spring over there because every day felt like winter.
She reminisced a lot about her homeland in Dorne. It was the complete opposite to this frozen wasteland. The skies were never cloudy, and the sun would always gleam down upon your skin, it was warm in contrast to the chilly winds that currently swept across her frame. Shuddering she pulled her itchy woollen cloak closer to her body trying to create some sort of friction between the fabric and her skin. It was at times like this when she missed the fiery sun and her loosely fitted silk dresses.
It had been over six moons since she arrived at Winterfell. She mainly served Lady Catelyn as a handmaiden, but always did the extra tedious tasks such as changing sheets, cleaning chamber pots, scrubbing floors, pouring ale and braiding hair.
Rhaenys hated the fact that she had the serve him, but she did it anyway. There had been a few times when she had contemplated in poisoning his ale or even slitting his throat when no one was around, but she hesitated. She didn't know why she did because he caused her so much pain and suffering, but she did.
Maybe it was the fatherly gleam in his eyes when he watched his son's practice in the courtyard or the way he lovingly embraced his wife in the mornings, but she couldn't kill him. No matter how many times she envisioned it, she just couldn't kill Ned Stark.
When she stared at Bran or Rickon she realised that she couldn't take their father away, she knew the pain of losing a parent all too well and wouldn't wish it upon any young child.
Her whole life she craved to have her parents back and knowing the feeling of losing them is simply something she couldn't put the Stark children through.
Oberyn would call her weak if she ever admitted it out loud. Seven hells she even thought of herself as weak. She spent years thinking about killing her family's murderers and now she felt as though she let them down. Her quest for revenge was nothing but folly — a silly girl's dream. She would forever scorn herself over this, she had travelled North only to go home empty handed.
"Are you alright Lady Catelyn? You've been tense this morning." Rhaenys lightly observed as she brought the brush through Catelyn's mangled tresses. The Lady of Winterfell sat there slumped in her chair with a frown etched upon her aged face. Lately Catelyn had been like that for a while, walking around the halls with that same conflicted expression.
