Dragon against Wolf - The Dragon & The Wolf

To read early:

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"

Chapter 38: "Husband and Wife"

Chapter 39: "The Heirs' Meeting"

Chapter 40: "Parents and children"

Chapter 41: "The Return of the Wolf"

Chapter 42: "Acclimating"

Chapter 43: "The Beetle"

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

Enjoy reading!

"It begins today."Such were the words thought by Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard as he awakened from his bed in the White tower.

He took a deep breath, exhaled and went to clean himself in the cold bath at his disposal, he had always taken a cold bath, it was the perfect way to erase any trace left of tiredness. Well, this and servants only bothered to bring hot water to nobles, which Ser Criston was not.

He was the son of a steward, he became a knight of the Stormlands, and now, now after all these years of fighting, killing, and following commands, he was now a knight of the Kingsguard, chosen by the heiress of the Iron Throne herself, the Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen.

As he immerged his body in the cold water, Ser Criston thought of the young woman he had sworn to protect, the one that had given him his white cloak, the one that had honored him beyond his wildest dreams, the one he had fallen in love with.

Ser Criston grimaced and immerged his head in the water to calm his unholy thoughts. He knew those feelings of his were impure, he knew his oaths prevented him from loving a woman. But the heart does not listen to reason, and Ser Criston's reason left him as soon as he laid his eyes on his Princess.

Rhaenyra… no words could be refined enough to describe her beauty. She was known to the people as "The Realm's Delight", but to Ser Criston Cole, she was so much more than that; she had changed his life, she had written his name in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, she had confided in him, trusted him, gave him a purpose greater than he could have hope to die for. And now, now she was relying on him to save her, save her from Arthur Stark's schemes.

For moons, Ser Criston had powerlessly watched the Princess treat the Northerner not as an ordinary man sworn to her -which he was-, but as her very own Hand of the Queen, a title he had officially acquired after a trial from which the Princess had saved him.

Had Ser Criston hated Arthur Stark…? No, he had tried, it would have been so easy to just hate him and consider him an enemy. Especially after the way he had handled his trial by combat against this Dornish Prince. But Ser Criston was not a tourney knight, he was a warrior, he had seen battlefields and its numerous horrors. A man biting off another man's throat had not been the worst thing he had seen. However, what had truly shaken the knight to his very bones, had been the looks his Princess and the Northerner had exchanged for many weeks, looks that had multiplied after the Stark's trial. Ser Criston would be lying if he were to say that he had not felt great satisfaction when the Northman had been brought in the Throne Room in chains. "A fitting punishment"had been his thought, for his Princess's tears had been haunting him and still were.

Ser Criston had always been mesmerized by Rhaenyra's strength and resolve, her face, so beautiful and soft, had always been harder than steel. Only Arthur Stark had managed to break this wonderful portrait, only Arthur Stark had managed to weaken his Princess, only Arthur Stark had plotted to turn a Queen into a puppet for his own ambitions.

Ser Criston emerged from his bath, walked out of it and proceeded to dry himself. He felt his anger rise but was quick to contain himself, he needed to remain calm and collected to accomplish the mission his Princess had entrusted him with.

The Stormlander put on his clothes and armor, he had never had a squire since he had become a kingsguard. Usually, a kingsguard had a young noble boy or more as squires, but not Ser Criston. The main reason was simple: he was a commoner without a name, and even the poorest lord at Court did not wish for his thirdborn to serve under the command of a commoner such as him.

But Ser Criston's reason was different, he simply did not trust anyone, a mere boy even less, with his armor.

His armor, his kingsguard's armor, it was a testament of his victory, the fruit of his hard labour, the accomplishment of a lifetime, the only gift he had received from his Princess apart from her favor, which he had carried since he had entered her service.

He wrapped this simple piece of black and red cloth around his wrist and kissed it. Rhaenyra had gifted him her strength and her bravery, he would honor her as she had honored him. He would win this tournament, he would save his princess from the marriage her father and false friend were trying to force her into, and then, he would avenge her.

Such was his duty.

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra looked far too happy.

Such was Arthur's thought as he climbed the stairs of the Royal Stand to sit by his King's side. He, like all the others, had not been allowed to have an escort, only the Kingsguards that would not participate in the tourney were present among the most important lords and ladies of the Realm. The King, the Queen and the Princess, The Velaryons and their two children, and all the members of the Small Council, including Arthur himself as Hand of the King.

Six Kingsguards were guarding them, only Ser Criston Cole was missing, and the Stark already knew what that meant. The knight had always failed to hide his feelings for the Princess after all and Rhaenyra had him wrapped around her finger. Ser Criston's presence in this tournament was Rhaenyra's shield against any unfortunate marriage. Him winning the tournament would not change her fate, he was a kingsguard, not a Prince. It would simply put the Princess in a more advantageous position when she would resume her courtship. Arthur had considered leaving her be, but he feared Rhaenyra's imagination and ability to turn a dent into a hole. So he had taken some precautions before this day.

Arthur stopped as he looked for his seat and frowned when he found it. Not next to the King, as a Hand should be sitting, but in front of the Royal couple, next to Rhaenyra. The direwolf's head sewn on the back of the chair as well as the chair itself had been wonderfully done. The other members of the Small Council had not been given such honors. Something that Lord Corlys found particularly amusing.

"You are going to great lengths honoring your new Hand, your Grace." He noted.

Judging by Viserys's confused expression, he had not expected Arthur to sit next to Rhaenyra, and before he had realized his daughter's manipulation, his Hand spoke:

"I am not worthy of such an honor." He stated, for it was a statement, not a courtesy. "I suppose I need to work harder in order to properly repay our Monarch for his trust."

"Do not be so hasty to exhaust yourself, Lord Arthur, you are still young." The King japed as he questioned his servants with a look.

However, the culprit of this ploy went to sit at her place without uttering a single word, the innocent smile that she put on was more than enough to irritate and mildly amuse her adviser.

Rhaenys and Corlys exchanged a knowing look as they went to sit at their places, Alicent looked embarrassed and somewhat scandalized by Rhaenyra's gesture, she gently pulled her husband's sleeve for them to sit a little above those two and prevent them from being entangled by whatever was going on. Viserys himself did not seem to know how to react, so he allowed his wife to guide him to his chair as Arthur Stark remained standing with his arms crossed, frowning at the Princess.

The Northerner's eyeroll did not escape Rhaenys's keen eye, and while Stark resigned himself to take his seat, she whispered to her husband:

"She is being too forward."

"What do you mean?" Corlys asked.

"Rhaenyra lusts for her wolf far more than he lusts for her, he is a man who chose duty over anything else and she is trying to rip him away from his obligations."

Corlys Velaryon rose his eyebrows as he briefly gazed at Rhaenyra and Arthur. The Valyrian girl tried to put her hand on the Northerner's, but the latter crossed his arms once again, fleeing her touch. She smiled and relaxed in her chair.

The Sea Snake barely managed to contain a chuckle.

"She is not being reasonable." He admitted. "Do you think she will manage to break him?"

"She certainly believes so, and she won't back away, not ever, she is as stubborn as she is careless."

Corlys smiled.

"That poor Northern boy, such talent… wasted by a girl in love. This tournament will end up in quite a scandal, I am afraid."

"It has already started." Rhaenys warned as she took a look at the knights and Lords present in the other stands. Most of them were glaring at the Hand of the King, the rest were either curious or wary. The common people however, were smiling at the Princess and looked ready to cheer.

"You were right." She stated with an amused tone. "Whatever those actors did, has convinced the people that those two are to rule together, I fear a scandal is upon the Royal Family once again."

Sitting besides their parents, both Laena and Laenor had also noticed the scene between the Stark man and the Targaryen woman and if the latter found it amusing, the former was worried.

Rhaenyra and Laena had caught up after the Princess's discussion with the Lady of the Tides. Laena had expected her cousin to throw herself into her arms and talk about the latest gossips over a cup of tea or during a walk in the gardens. But Rhaenyra… She had remained distant, putting on a relatively modest smile that had only seemed sincere when Laena had thanked her for her intervention in her betrothal.

It had been almost a year since Arthur Stark had arrived in King's Landing, and Laena had heard almost every possible tale about the Northerner, from the most scandalous report of an attempted rape to the juicy story of an impossible love between her cousin and the Stark. Now that she was seeing them, Laena knew that things were a tiny bit more complicated than what the guards and the servants of Hightide had gossiped about.

Since she has returned to Court, Laena had learned that the Hand of the King had a splendid reputation as a hard-worker. Many lords considered that he was a vast improvement to Otto Hightower, however, what had truly astonished the Velaryon lady were the tales of the time he spent with the Prince Aegon and the Princess Helaena.

For a Hand to do this was unusual, and many wondered what he was hoping to accomplish by reading northern tales to the young Prince. Some septas feared that he would convert the children to the Old Gods, but Laena knew how pious Queen Alicent was and doubted that the Northmen truly cared for such things.

He was an intriguing character to say the least, and Rhaenyra had definitely fallen for him.

When Laena had questioned her cousin about the Stark, Rhaenyra's had not batted an eye as she had answered:

"If I tell you anything of importance, you will feel obligated to tell your mother when she will ask you about it. I would rather keep my thoughts to myself rather than force you to choose between your mother and I."

She had been right; Rhaenys had asked. And now that Laena was seeing her parents whispering to each other while eyeing Rhaenyra and Arthur, she understood Rhaenyra's cautiousness.

The blowing of a trumpet interrupted her thoughts, Laena saw the herald stand on pedestal as he spread his arms and bowed to the King, signaling him that the floor was his.µ

Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm rose to smile and wave at his people. As he did so, Laena remembered the last tourney she had seen in this arena. It was the day Queen Aemma died. Leaving a broken King and an angry Princess shaken with grief. As Viserys feebly got up, Laena took one last look at Rhaenyra's proud figure. Times had changed.

"Be welcomed! All of you! Lords, Ladies, sons, daughters, knights and squires of the Realm! I cannot thank you enough for your presence in a tourney that will be, I am sure, one for the history books! As your King, I rejoice that such an extraordinary event, happens under my rule! As a father, however, I must admit that my heart bleeds, for this tourney is in the honor of your Princess: Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne!"

A clamor far louder than anyone in the royal stand expected, rose from the crowd of common people. Making knights and Lords turn around.

Rhaenyra's smile grew large, she rose, and waved at the ones she would one day rule.

"Thank you, all of you, for being present today. As your future Queen, my first duty is to find the appropriate consort to rule by my side for the prosperity of the Realm. I am confident, that the man I seek is here somewhere, in this arena."

She barely held back a chuckle, as she imagined Arthur giving her a look of dismay for her phrasing. Which he actually was.

Lords', knights' and heirs' looks on the other hand, were full of greed and lust. But they were also meaningless compared to her wolf's.

"I want you all to know this: even though there is only one winner per competition, I am watching you all, for a Princess's hand cannot be won through jousting and fighting. Only the worthiest of you shall be by my side when it is time for me to sit on the Iron Throne."

As she spoke, she pulled a thornless rose out of her sleeve and rolled it between her fingers.

"My Lords and knights, by order of your future Queen, let this tournament begin!"

She through the rose as the clamor thundered once again, though this time, nobles and common people were cheering together.

Rhaenyra waved one last time while the trumpets were blown and the drums were beaten, then she sat back and smiled at her Northerner who ignored her.

She rolled her eyes at his behavior.

"Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the day?" She teased him in a whisper.

Arthur was not amused.

"If I were to do that, you would pester me all day long and forget about this whole tournament. So no, I am not going to do that."

"Then what is your strategy to escape me, Lord Hand?"

Her teasing tone almost made him smile, almost.

"Doing nothing."

Rhaenyra looked flabbergasted for a second, then she laughed.

"You think that is going to work?"

"And how do you plan to drag me into a sept against my will? A wedding in front of the Seven is meaningless to me anyway."

"Then I will just have my Kingsguards pin you down before the weirwood in the garden." She stated as she backhanded his words to erase them.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather cut my balls off than live through such a humiliation."

"Why do you have to be so dramatic?" She sighed.

"I'm dramatic? Make no mistake, between the two of us, you are the most stubborn."

"I am glad we can agree on something today."

"It was not a compliment, if you really want to marry me, you have to abdicate the throne."

Rhaenyra's eyes grew larger than saucers. Was he…?

No… Of course not, he was just stating what he thought was a fact, he was not promising anything. Damn him.

"Swear by the Old Gods and the New that you would marry me if I were to do so, and I will."

He froze, and that did not escape her eye. She knew she had gotten him.

"I cannot do that." He said as the herald called for the first two jousters. "Because I will never be able to make you happy, up in the North."

"Then shut up, my lovely wolf. We said to each other everything that was meant to be said. And this arena is the perfect scenery to settle our dispute."

Arthur frowned and turned to look into the determined purple eyes of his Princess.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, knowing he would not like the answer.

Rhaenyra looked at the crowd of nobles.

"All those fools believe they are here to fight for my hand, some of them are here to fight for glory for they are not bold enough to aim too high. The most powerful lords are here to whisper poisonous words into their sons' ears. The Velaryons and my father are mere spectators, and all of them are unaware of the actual battle that is taking place in this arena."

She turned to gaze into her wolf's cunning, sharp and wonderful grey eyes, she wanted to lose herself in those but managed to contain herself.

"The real battle, Arthur, is the one that is taking place between you and I."

A metallic crash resonated, and the crowd cheered the victor of the first joust while the loser was screaming in pain in the dust. Neither Arthur nor Rhaenyra had moved as the herald announced the winner's name. None of them had even known the names of either of the competitors.

"And you called me, dramatic." The Northerner chuckled.

"I'm being serious."

"I know you are, but you will never get what you want. I won't let you."

Rhaenyra felt a shiver of terror run down her spine. She refused to believe him; she would have him. She would! Nothing else mattered if he did not stay by her side!

"Arthur Stark…" She started, but he cut her off.

He was tired, so very tired of hearing her trying to get under his skin, trying to find a way to his heart, pretending that all she cared about was him. He only had one card left, yet he had hoped to never use it. But Rhaenyra… She can break him, he had realized this the moment he had lost himself in her eyes once more. He needed to break his own heart, or she would take it.

"Here we sit, you, wanting to marry me, me, wanting you to marry someone else. You chose love, I chose duty. We will never be together Rhaenyra, and I am done surrendering to whatever you are making me feel. So… Here is my last warning: either you marry someone else, or I am going back North."

His words, though pronounced in a whisper, resonated inside the Princess' skull as a war-horn. She froze and started to shake as her nails dug in the wood of her armrests. In her eyes, hell had broken loose, fueled by her fear of being alone and unloved, her rage at the thought of marrying anyone else than her wolf and siring children that were not of his blood, and her pain from being betrayed in such a cowardly way.

"You…" She whispered, her tone full of venom. "You coward… you traitor… You would abandon me? You would run away? All because…"

"Because my heart is not yours, and never will be."

There it was, the knife that pierced her chest and took of all her hopes and dreams. Rhaenyra lost all of her strength, and flopped against her chair. A single tear ran down her cheek, she angrily wiped it off with her sleeve.

"If you do this… I will never forgive you… Not ever… Mark my words, Arthur. Should you abandon me, I will force you to be present on my wedding day, force you to take part in the bedding ceremony and force you to watch as I will be raped under your very eyes. You will never get away with this, and I will have my revenge. This, I vow."

Her words struck the Northerner's chest harder than a warhammer. His mind filled itself with abominable images that squeezed his heart and face dry.

He exhaled slowly, trying and failing to calm himself. He turned to face Rhaenyra and felt himself crumble as he discovered his Princess's puffy face and red eyes. He tried to say something, yet no word crossed his lips.

Rhaenyra, on the other hand, lowered her head to hide her face.

"I will never be free of you." She whispered. "Why must you torture me?"

"I could say… the exact same words." He whispered back.

She turned to look at him and saw, those grey eyes of his filled with regret and comfort. Gods, how handsome he was, his lips… She craved their touch.

She slowly moved her head forward, but the Hand of the King pinched the back of her very hand to remind her that they were not alone.

In the blink of an eye, Rhaenyra was heard once again the cheers and applause of the Lords and commoners. She saw a fallen knight with a deformed and bloody helmet, being dragged by squires while another knight, a Malister, according to his sigil, was savoring his victory.

She motioned for a servant to bring her a cup of wine that she downed in one go under her adviser's embarrassed and worried gaze.

"Don't…" He started.

"Shut your fucking mouth." She growled as she took another cup under the shocked eyes of the servant.

Arthur sighed, took a cup of his own, and sipped it.

"You did not hear a thing." He warned the servant. "Otherwise, you might lose your ears."

The servant hastily nodded as he tried to retreat, but Lord Corlys motioned for him and he had to resolve himself to obey.

Rhaenyra exhaled, trying and failing to calm herself.

"I will never let you go." She whispered.

"Then we are both doomed." Arthur warned.

"I'd rather be doomed with you than married to another."

Whatever response Arthur had for her died as the herald boomed:

"For our next joust, Ser Ryman Crakehall of the Westerlands will be opposed to Ser Criston Cole, Knight of the Kingsguard and swornshield of the Princess Rhaenyra!"

A thundering clamor accompanied Ser Criston's name as he trotted to salute the Royal Family next to his opponent.

Arthur rose an eyebrow, he could not see the Stormlander's eyes because of his helmet. Yet, he could have sworn that the Kingsguard had been glaring at him.

The joust did not last, in a single blow, Ser Criston had sent Crakehall to the dust, a sinister crack resonated in the arena when the knight of the West fell on his leg. But Cole ignored the man's screams of pain to trot to the royal stand, there he took his helmet off.

"Princess, as your swornshield, I cannot ask for your hand, but may I be so bold as to ask for your favor?"

Rhaenyra smiled, her first genuine smile since she had started speaking to Arthur, she picked a garland of roses and let it slide on Ser Criston's spear.

"I have faith in you, my knight." She declared for all to hear.

"I will not disappoint you, my future-Queen." He bowed.

Then, right before he put his helmet back on, he gave Arthur the most poisonous glare the Northmen had seen since he had crossed the Neck.

Once the Princess had regained her chair, he made no effort to hide his displeasure.

"What are you doing?" He whispered.

She smiled at him, it was a challenging smile.

"I am forcing you to face me, you coward."