XVII - A Game of Passion - The Dragon & The Wolf

To read early:

Chapter 18 : 'A Tale of Waters and Snow'

Chapter 19 : 'The Northern Fist'

Chapter 20: 'Double Dual'

Chapter 21: 'Dragon against Wolf'

Chapter 22: 'The Tournament of Pretenders'

Chapter 23: "The divided Pack"

Chapter 24: "Too far, too late"

Chapter 25: "The Ghosts of Guilt"

Chapter 26 : "How time and blood flow"

Chapter 27: "Those who rule over Winter"

Chapter 28: "Clinging to hope"

Chapter 29: "The Barn owl"

Chapter 30: "Legends"

Chapter 31: "The Starks of Winterfell"

Chapter 32: "Ice and Fire"

Chapter 33: "Rhaenyra and Arthur"

Chapter 34: "The Choice is not the one you thought"

Chapter 35: "What we are meant to be"

Chapter 36: "The Fresh air of the North"

Chapter 37: "From this day, Until our last day"

Support me on=

w w w . p a t r(e)on (slash) MonsieurLAH

Enjoy reading!

Chapter XVII : A Game of Pain and Passion

Rhaenyra sighed as she looked at her wardrobe, she was supposed to have supper with her Father and Alicent tomorrow, though she had planned to get Arthur to the table with her stepmother's help… yet she could not decide what to put on to catch her Northerner's eye.

Arthur knew all of her dresses, even the last ones. Which made her realize it has been some time since she had renewed her wardrobe, and even longer since she had managed to pull out the lustful eye of her wolf. She considered summoning the essossi merchants that had arrived in the Capital over the past week and buy their best silk and satin to entrust to her seamstresses. For tonight's supper with Alicent and her ladies, a less tempting dress would be more appropriate, but she would keep the colors of her House.

She looked outside to check on the hour, she still had a lot of time before supper, and since Arthur was enjoying some time alone she picked a book from her shelf and settled on the couch to pass time. At least that had been her plan, until someone knocked at her door.

"Princess? We need to talk."

Short, straight to the point, sharp, Rhaenyra did not even need to recognize the voice; those words could only be Arthur's, and he was not happy.

She went to open her door, she found him standing tall with his arms crossed and his eyes cold. She hated seeing him like that, angry at her, disappointed, it made her feel like everything she had done since they had met, meant little. Still, she remembered her courtesies:

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lord Hand. Perhaps a walk in the gardens shall lighten our minds after this morning's meeting?"

"I would have loved to." He admitted as he relaxed slightly. "But unfortunately, we must talk privately, so my solar shall do if you're willing."

"I am."

The walk to the Tower of the Hand was… awkward to say the least. Arthur had never been one for small talk, and what would they talk about anyway? Her Northerner was a private person, and she did not feel comfortable sharing publicly what she had done with her half-siblings and Alicent over the past few days.

Once they had arrived, she left Ser Criston at the door -without missing his worried look-, and closed the door behind them as Arthur went to lean on his desk with his arms crossed.

"So…" Rhaenyra said as she regained her composure to face him. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Your courtship." Arthur spoke with a sharp tone. "And the fact that you never took the time to resume it… Which means that you deliberately did nothing… Now… You're not gonna make me believe that you forgot about it… And I think I know why you acted this way… So tell me; what were you trying to accomplish?"

If she remained perfectly calm and collected in appearances, on the inside, she was fuming against herself. She should have acted sooner, she should have spent far more time with Arthur trying to get inside his heart, instead of drowning her mind with all those politics. She took a deep breath… He would not get away that easily, he would not get away from her.

"If you know the answer then why are you even asking the question?"

The look of dismay Arthur threw at her was almost comical, almost. He rolled his eyes and sighed in dismay.

"Well that definitely takes the biscuit." He mumbled under his breath.

Rhaenyra laughed when she heard him say that.

"What does that even mean?"

The Northerner backhanded her question, literally.

"Nevermind that, let's remained focus since you won't get away with this, at least this time."

The Realm's Delight's breath was caught in her throat, her eyes widened in horror.

"What do you mean?" She almost screamed. "What have you done?!"

"Nothing, and I am not going to do anything… However, I have been approached this morning by the Master of laws' second son; Larys. Who… actually made me realize that you had deliberately not resumed your courtship."

Rhaenyra's thoughts turned into an inferno at those words, she would have her revenge on the limping man for ruining our plans. She would, but for now, she needed to save herself from him.

"Now, you need to understand something," Arthur resumed as he looked into her furious purple eyes. "If he realized it, others will as well, and the fact that you refuse to wed will stir the Court's ire. Those who have faith in you as heir will start questioning you, and your enemies will use this against you by spreading tales about you across the Realm. We need to act quickly and not only kill this potential scandal in its crib, but use it to your advantage."

The Princess frowned.

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"We will use your courtship as an excuse to organize a tourney, a tourney that will attract more than half of the Realm. Every knights, lords and heirs would come to covet your hand, and all the ones that are too old to fight would be off the table. Of Course, you would preside over such an event, not your father, you."

The more he spoke, the more Rhaenyra's face decomposed itself. Terror rose in her chest and she started to breath faster than she could control.

Arthur noticed her state, and without warning regret filled his heart. He felt as if he was forcefully dragging her in a Sept for her to marry a rich Southerner.

"Ideally, Laenor Velaryon." He thought, trying to get his emotions under control to remain focused on his duty.

But he did not want to do this, he did not want to force her or to make her life miserable, she was his friend, she loved him, and he simply could not ignore this. He thought about hugging her, but stopped himself. He could not comfort her and crush her at the same time. He could not support both Rhaenyra and her claim. So he needed to make a choice, and he made it:

"You don't have to marry the winner." He said, using a reassuring tone… as if that information would make her feel better. "But your future husband will have to be one of the yes, I will not be one of them."

The Princess' heart was crushed by those words, tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed and tightened her fists so harshly that her nails started to pierce her palms. As she lowered her head, Arthur noticed the blood dripping from her hands. Without thinking, he moved to comfort her, to make sure she was not too maimed. Yet she slapped him before he could reach her. He took a step back as she went on the offensive, she slapped him again, and again. The more she slapped him, the more of her blood she spread on his cheeks. Arthur stumbled backwards, but he caught her hand to prevent her last slap and pulled her to his face.

Yet, he did not utter a single word, he simply looked at her eyes filled with tears. His very own eyes were filled with regret and sorrow. He had made his choice, he had chose duty, but that did not prevent his heart from bleeding.

Rhaenyra weakly tried to get off of his grip, when she realized that she could not, she rose her other hand but he caught it too. And yet she refused to surrender, and only did so when she realized how much of her blood was on his face. Once she did, her anger deflated, and she sighed in despair as she let her head fall on her Northerner chest.

"Why?" She whispered. "Why, Arthur?"

He did not know what to answer, other than it was simply her duty and she had to do it, he was not that cruel, and he cared for her too much to let those words cross his lips.

And it would have been a lie anyway, for he would not marry her even if she were to renounce her claim and decide to live the rest of her life with him, in the North. Because he did not love her, and could not give her what she so hardly desired.

Arthur Stark had no word, no idea, nothing for her. Even his comfort and car, though genuine, felt hollow.

Wordlessly, he pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, and started cleaning her hands from the blood in which they were soaked. Rhaenyra did not move to stop him, she did not have any strength left in her.

He felt as though he owed her an explanation, he could not leave her like that, she would never be able to move forward if she kept looking back.

But he felt terrible about it, about her, about what he was doing to her, about what the South was doing to him, about what she was doing to him, he felt terrible about everything.

"The last woman I loved…" He whispered to her as Rasha's face appeared in his mind, she was glaring at him.

He stopped, he couldn't bare to continue, he had reopened his heart's worst scare, and the wound was bleeding profusely.

Rhaenyra stopped crying the moment she had heard his whisper, and rose her head her eyebrows slightly furrowed and her eyes filled with curiosity and hope. Hope for what? Arthur did not know, but hope was there nonetheless.

They both stayed there, motionless, wordless, their faces separated by merely inches.

Rhaenyra saw a tear roll down her wolf's face and clean a path in the spot of her blood that she had painted on his cheek. She wiped it out mechanically, her eyes never left his.

As moments of silence passed, Arthur realized how vulnerable Rhaenyra could make him. Or perhaps it was Rasha's ghost that was lurking in his head and gnawing his defenses. Maybe it was both, maybe he had underestimated the effect Rhaenyra had on him. Maybe she had gotten closer than he had expected.

"What happened to her?" She asked, and of course she did, why wouldn't she?

She would finally have an answer, she would finally understand, she would finally realized what it was that that woman had that she did not.

Arthur shed a few more tears before answering:

"She was raped and devoured by wildlings." His tone was sharper and stronger than Valyrian steel.

But his face had cracked, while Rhaenyra skin had paled and her eyes had widened in horror.

He still remembered every detail of that horrible day, how he had tracked the band of wildlings for more than two days. How he had found them while they were eating her legs. How he had been blinded by rage and massacred them one after the other. How he had found her, limbless, but alive, how she had begged him to kill her… How he had embraced her in a tight hug, as he had stabbed her heart with his dagger. How he had burned her body and watched as her battered and bruised face had been cooked by the fire he had lit.

All those details escaped his mouth as he confided in Rhaenyra. He had softly wept during his entire tale, as his eyes usually so hard and shining had become hollow and lifeless.

The Targaryen Princess' heart was bleeding too. She was… overwhelmed by what she had been told and the scares it had left on her wolf. She was horrified by the abominable fate that Rasha had met, and the selfless act of love that Arthur had performed to give her peace. And she was astonished by the vulnerability that the Stark had shown. Never had she seen him weep, never had she seen him so frail, never had she expected him to crack so easily.

Rhaenyra felt the sharp and deep bite of regret on her heart, as she looked at her Northerner's bruised, sad and bloody face. And now the tables had turned, now it was him who seemed to need comfort, the Princess had forgotten about her courtship and the tourney that was supposed to come with it. Arthur was the first thing on her mind as he often was.

"Rhaenyra." He whispered as he looked down. "I can't love you. I simply can't, so please stop trying to get inside my heart. It is nothing but trouble. Trouble for your claim, trouble for the Realm, trouble for me and… well… trouble for you. Stop wasting yourself, trying to obtain something that is dead and rotten. Please…"

" Arthur…" She whispered as she rose her hands to grab his cheeks.

Yet he didn't seem to notice.

"What you want from me, died with Rasha." He said as a final tear rolled down his Princess' fingers. "There is nothing I can give please…"

"Arthur Stark…" She whispered a little higher to get his attention, once his eyes had rose from their dark void, they lost themselves in hers.

"Please…" She whispered again. "For a single moment, be alive with me."

When their lips met, the whole world disappeared, everything and everyone but Rhaenyra Targaryen and Arthur Stark. All the tension that they had accumulated during their conversation melted in their kiss, as well as all their worries, all their pain and all their memories. The Targaryen Princess' heart skipped a beat when she felt her Northerner's arms embrace her body, and she quickly returned his hug. Rhaenyra had never felt anything like this, her entire being was on fire, her soul was ecstatic, she put her hands behind his head and pressed him against her. Everything she had ever experienced during her life paled compared to this moment, even her first flight on Syrax' s back had not brought her nearly as much joy as Arthur's lips.

The kisses she had shared with Daemon in that Seven-damned-brothel, were nowhere near as delicious as this one.

"I should have given you my first kiss." She thought bitterly as she pressed her chest against his and filled her nostrils with his scent. "I will be yours, I will give you everything, everything I have, everything I am, I will be yours, yours to marry, yours to bed, your children will be my children, I will be yours… So be mine! Be mine! BE MINE!"

Rhaenyra felt like she was starving, and her passion took over and doubled as she feasted on her Wolf face.

Yet he broke their contact, and blew a blizzard on her heart.

"Stop." He said, his voice hard and sharp again. "Don't…"

"Will you just shut up about that fucking politics, those fucking duties and your damn honor?" She sneered, furious that this magical moment had been interrupted because of all those who did not want to see them together!

Arthur shook his head, Rhaenyra caught him leaking his lips and smirking. And it was not a sad smirk, she was getting somewhere!

"You don't understand." The Stark said, trying to bottle up everything that she had given him. "Your courtship will be resumed, and the tourney will happen, whether you and I want it or not. This…" He moved his finger between her and him. "This simply cannot be."

Now it was Rhaenyra's turn to shook her head, she put a hand on his cheek and rubbed his lips with her thumb.

"You're a fool, Arthur Stark." She smiled as she bewitched him with her eyes. "This is, this will keep being, and this will last even after death breaks us apart."

The Northman's eyes widened as she got up and turned to reach the door, but she stopped before her hand was on the knob and she smiled one more time as purple struck gray.

"I love you, Arthur." She whispered loud enough for him to hear, he had barely enough time to blink before she disappeared and closed the door, leaving him alone and confused.

It took him a bit of time to collect his thoughts after everything that had happened. He frowned at himself.

"What am I doing?" He thought. "What is going on?"

He had a hard time realizing that Rhaenyra had not only kissed him, but also touched his soul and heart. He used his right hand to squeeze his face.

"She is going to be the death of me." He murmured as he stared at the ceiling. "I can't stay here, and abandon Cregan and the North. I can't marry her, I would not be able to support her claim… I am not the heir to Winterfell… And even if I were, marrying her would chain me to the South for the rest of my life. What should I do? What can I do? She…"

He remembered her kiss, her warmth, her words, all the emotions she had made him feel, both the good and the bad ones. She was a dragon who would not settle for half a meal or a treat. She would have him whole. But he could not give her that, he had nothing for her. Yet she was destroying every wall he had erected over the past few years. How could he possibly stop her? How could he be as cold as a White Walker to prevent her from burning his heart and to reject her as his duty demanded? She was devouring him, burning him, consuming him, and there was nothing he could do but live with it.

"My head is going to end up on a spike." He murmured as he drank wine from his wineskin. "Fuck… I am a Stark of Winterfell. I can't… I can't let her get me like this. She can't reach me like that ever again. Or we'll both be doomed…"

He thought of this damned Iron chair that he had refused to sit on during petitions. That hideous thing that was supposed to be her birthright and everything that she needed, everything that the North needed, why couldn't she do her duty like every other lady?

" Because she is not." He thought as if it was the most obvious thing in the World. "She is not some kind of doll that you drag into a Sept, she is a damn Targaryen Princess that refuses to be sold as cattle. Yet, of all the powerful lords she could marry to strengthen her claim, she wants me… How could she fall for me?"

He remembered her tears after her little escapade with Daemon, he remembered what she begged.

"Please don't betray me, you're my only friend."

"And how do you expect me to do that now?" He inwardly grumbled. "If I love you back, I betray everything we've worked for and I become the main danger to your claim. If I don't love you back, you will take it as a betrayal. And if I go back North, I betray the trust my uncle has put in me. I have no way out of this fucking mess."

"You're a fool, Arthur is, this will keep being, and this will last even after death breaks us apart."

"You damn witch." He chuckled after remembering her words, and then she had told him she loved him. And Arthur believed her, he wanted to love her back but…

"Love is the death of duty…" He whispered for himself.

He put down his wineskin, and went to sit on his desk. He would speak with the King regarding Rhaenyra's courtship and the tourney that would follow. He needed to be the one who would tell Viserys, otherwise the King would suspect something going on between his daughter and his Hand. If Rhaenyra was furious with him for this, then so be it, he had made his choice. And he could not chose her no matter what she desired. This was for the best, this was his duty to his family and country. He needed to get her out of his head, by any means necessary.

"Rasha…" He thought of his first love. "What would you think of me now?"

Unknown to him, a bird had flown from his window.

(-)(-)(-)

As she walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, Rhaenyra tried as well as she could to remember everything she had felt when she had kissed Arthur.

Everything about this moment had been perfect, better than in her wildest dreams, everything except the way it had ended.

But his lips, his smell, his hands, his chest, they had incinerated her mind and body, destroying the terror that she had felt when he had told her about that damn tourney.

Rhaenyra knew she could not stop it, nor could she expect Arthur to ride in it for her. She had gotten so close, but he was still resisting her. He was not going to break that easily, and he was going to try to run away from her. But she was not going to let that happen, she wanted him, him and no one else. Not some arrogant southern Lord, not heir of any castle and certainly not her pillow-biter of a cousin. She wanted her wolf, she would have her wolf, and the might of the Seven Kingdoms itself would not stop her, this she vowed. The pain that he had shared with her, it had done nothing but thrown oil on her flame, she would not allow him to wallow in despair in memory of a lost love. She would be here for him, she would keep him alive she would be at his side every step of the way… if only he accepted to be hers… There was nothing she wanted more.

"Princess, are you all right?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the concerned voice of Ser Criston, with her mind solely focused on the moment she had shared with Arthur, she had forgotten about him.

"I am fine, Ser Criston." She said as she noticed the spark in the Stormlanders' eyes that she wanted to see in her Northerner's. "The Hand and I had… disagreements."

She felt stings in her hands and realized that the wounds she had inflicted herself had not healed, she sighed when she looked at all those red marks made by her nails. Yet Ser Criston looked alarm at the sight of her blood.

"Princess! Did he…?!"

"Calm down, Ser." She said, her tone annoyed. "I did this to myself, I was quite angry."

She opened and closed her fists under his eyes, for him to realize that those wounds had indeed been inflicted by her own nails and not the Stark's hand. He sighed in relief.

"You should see the Grandmaester, Princess." He said.

"I'll call for him later, once we've reached my chambers, for now I need to relax. I have had an… eventful meeting."

Apparently Ser Criston had understood it the wrong way, for he frowned in anger and disgust, ugly emotions that were more than likely directed at Arthur.

"Princess." He spoke in a low tone, probably afraid to be heard. "If there is anything I can do…"

"If only you could, my good Ser." She told her sworn shield with a smile as she resumed her walk. "If only you…"

An idea suddenly stroke her mind and her eyes widened in realization, her breath caught up in her throat and she froze for half a second.

"Actually…" She said as she turned to face him and his look full of hope. "There might be something you could do… But you would have to fight harder than you have ever fought before."

Ser Criston, put a comforting hand on her shoulder

"Princess, I am your sworn sword, your personal Kingsguard and your friend. Whatever enemy you need to see defeated, I will deliver the final strike if you command me."

Rhaenyra smiled an exciting smile at those words, her plan was perfect, the perfect counter for this damn courtship.

"I thank you for your loyalty, Ser Criston." She genuinely said. "You see, a tourney is soon to be held in my honor…"

AN: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter ;).

For the record, what Rhaenyra is doing is reckless, and Arthur can't pick up all the pieces, especially if she finds a way into his heart. ;)

Edit: Oh, and yes, she was far more concerned about finding a way to close the wound in Arthur's heart -so she could get him-, rather than she was trying to understand his inner pain.