There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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Though Rhaenar had grown to love riding, the bitter winds of the North were biting against the soft skin of her cheek, clinging to the fine hair that grew. Gone were the whistling winds of a gentle winter's breeze, and replaced were the harsh whipping of the freezing cold. It was as she crossed the wall, she could feel it. A deep unsettling, a rumble in the pit of her stomach as her hand tightened on the chain, ice clinging not only to the steel of the armour plates but to the fur that lined her jacket. It had dropped drastically, the coat barely keeping her warm, she only hoped that the dragons were fairing much better.
It wasn't hard to miss once she had flown North far enough, the giant packed ice wall that ran as far as her eyes could see as she began to cross it. Trees were then all she could see settled beneath, the night not providing her with much extras as she clung to the beast. Rhaenar had let Rhaenys lead the way, hoping the bond with her dragon rider would guide her to where she needed to be, much like Leirion and her own had when she needed him in Meereen.
Her hand clung to the chain, her face buried deep into his side as they continued to fly across the North. All she could see was white, there was nothing to indicate where they were. And she was growing frustrated, the indigo desperate to seek out where the scroll had urged her to go - especially when it had almost been a whole day since they had sent the raven. The pit bubbled within her stomach, the nerves building as she bit down on her lip.
What if she couldn't find them? Or what if she saw the army? She'd have to turn back, she couldn't single handedly take them on - that was be idiotic. But then, if she left them, not only would she lose Ser Jorah and Aegon, but Jon would be gone too - any hope of having peace with the North disappearing with his existence. And then what? The North would fall to the wight walkers, and they'd make their way down south, eventually wiping out life as they knew it.
Gods, she knew something was bound to go wrong. She'd warned Aegon, she could feel it. There was no way they could just pluck a singular soldier from the army, and march them back to the wall without someone noticing. Rhaenar was foolish for letting them go up there, and now she was being foolish still to try and retrieve them. But, if the boys were still alive; they'd have to try to take out the majority of the army, they couldn't let it march south with the numbers they had - it's why she had taken her dragons, for the good of the fight.
A large mountain sat in front of her, swirls of white and brown mixing across the arrow head as she headed for it. That's the mountain that they spoke about, that's where she needed to go. Rhaenys led the way, their wings beating heavy against the snow, a rattle breaking out above the sound.
Rhaenar rose slightly, her ears prickling as she focused on it. Why would there be a rattling? The dragons weren't slowing as the rattles grew louder, merging with something else. Nerves filled her, she swallowed.
