The Death of Winter's Princess

Chapter III

It had been a week and Ashara was doing everything possible to stay away from the three Targaryens. When it was time to eat, she'd lock herself in her room and she wouldn't come out until everyone had finished. When someone knocked on her door she would start to cry uncontrollably while her maids looked on pitifully until the person became uncomfortable and left. But sometimes she would break her self confinement and walk across the battlements or in the snow covered gardens.

Today was one of those days.

Ashara had grown bored of sitting in her room all day, even if it was amusing to openly defy her new king and queens. She spent most of her time thinking about the Targaryens. Yes they were human, but they were of Valyrian descent. They practiced incestuous marriages between brother and sister, uncle and niece, and aunt and nephew. But what happened to the children of such a union? Surely there was some kind of deformity, but every time Ashara happened to glimpse the three Targaryens it chipped away at her doubt. Aegon was handsome and his sisters were an unearthly beautiful. All of them were cunning and powerful. Rhaenys and Aegon were kind, but Visenya was blunt and cold. None of them seemed to be insane or deformed in any kind of way.

She sighed and pulled her cloak around herself as a cool breeze stung her skin. The leaves of the rose bushes around her rustles, creating a strange music that drew Ashara towards them. The south might have their golden roses and blood red flowers, but the North had a colder beauty.

Blue roses. Their petal's ranged from blues so pale that they looked white to deep blues that seemed to suck the light out of the sky. Personally Ashara thought they were more beautiful than the red ones, but then again she had almost never visited the South.

She plucked a deep blue one from a bush, displacing some of the snow that dusted the plant. Her fingers brushed against its deep blue petals. There was a cough and Ashara spun around, her cloak whipping around her ankles.

"Your Grace." She hesitated, before dropping into a shallow curtsy. She straightened and refused to look up at Aegon Targaryen. Despite forcibly denying it, there was something about this man that drew her towards him, unlike the many who had come before him. His silver-gold hair shimmered in the northern sun, small bits of snow caught in the strands of hair. The purple in his eyes shimmered with emotions like joy and love that could easily become a storm of anger and rage. She closed her eyes and shoved her thoughts out of her head. "Do you need something?" She questioned coldly as she opened her eyes, finally meeting his gaze.

"I wanted to get the chance to talk to the evasive Lady of Winterfell."

At his words, Ashara resisted the urge to wack him upside the head. Her ancestral title taken from her family and herself because he man in front of her rode on the back of a giant lizard that could fly and breathe fire. What was he without his beast? What would his descendants be without dragons? Her brain questioned defiantly.

"Well I'm here now. Say what ever you want before I decide that I don't like the smell of dragon breath." She snapped, crossing her arms, ignoring the thorns of the rose that poked her fingers. "Are all Northerners so...blunt?" She stared at him, expecting him to say something more along the lines of rude or insulting.

"Yes we are. We prefer to be honest and we don't take offense to the truth, unlike you Southerners." He arched an eyebrow at her. "You think I'm a Southerner?" "You're bellow the Neck and technically a foreign invader, so yes. You are a Southerner." His eyes darkened and Ashara swallowed, a small bubble of fear rising inside of her. "The Andals were invaders too, but we soon came to accept them, perhaps we Westerosi will do the same for you Targaryens. You just have to play your cards correctly," she said quickly. "I meant no offense."

He looked down at her and his gaze made Ashara shift uncomfortably. The look in Aegon's eyes made her want to run, but she couldn't. She was a she wolf of Winterfell and she refused to run with her tail between her legs, even if her opponent was a dragon. But what was happening in his brain? She stiffened as he stepped closer, but her feet were firmly glued to the ground.

Ashara's brain was panicking at their closeness and before she knew what she was doing she grabbed his hand and shoved the blue rose into his hands, surprising him. She swallowed and forced herself to step back, distancing herself from him. "Think of Westeros as a rose. You must keep a firm grip on it so it does not blow away, but you must not crush it. When you are king you must cultivate it and make sure that it thrives." She said hurriedly before backing up quickly causing the thorns of the rose to cut across her fingers. She closed his hand around the bloom before she curtsied swiftly and stood, staring down at her feet.

"I must go." She turned on her heel and practically ran out of the garden.

Ashara didn't look back as she slowed her pace as she entered the courtyard. She made a beeline to her room and when she opened her door a maid looked up. "My lady, what-" "Nothing, draw me a bath." The woman hesitated before nodding and shuffling off as Ashara leaned against the door, clutching her hands to her chest.

What was she thinking? Why had she let Aegon get that close to her? And what was happening to her to make her freak out in front of him? A million questions zipped around her head as she tried to control her breathing. From now on she would avoid Aegon Targaryen for his entirety of his stay in Winterfell.