Winter Rose.

xciv.

Rhaenar wanted to get back as fast as she could; to experience the feeling of cold winds brushing back her braid as her eyes closed. She was sat on top of Leirion, her breathing deep as she kept hold of the horns, letting him guide her back across Westeros and to her home. He was silent, his face pensive as he flew her; her hands reaching out to stroke his neck as her forehead rested on the scales

Leirion was her inner strength, her rock as she clung to him; no armour protecting either of them as they soared through the air. Cersei now had weapons that could wound the dragons, it almost succeeded - how she got the shot was beyond her. Rhae was worried, for them, for her armies; the war was only just beginning and already she was facing casualties. She hated to think about the possibility of a civil war, of every fraction of Westeros turning like they had during the Mad King's reign. This war would cost her more than anyone realised, just having the men's death on her conscious was enough. 

Now she had a Lord in her prison, a new Tyrell to please, and an Army of the Dead to deal with. Once this was done with, she'd need a break - a well overdue one. But what break would she get as Queen? She would have an entire Kingdom to run, people to care for; she had to ensure that no child went to bed hungry, and with winter on the way...

Her eyes peeled open, taking in the sharp exterior of Dragonstone as it grew closer to her; the sight much appreciated as Leirion's speed picked up. Her eyes dropped to the rolling cliffs, to the beaches that stretched for miles, and... Jon Snow stood at the edge, watching as Leirion and Rhaenar soared closer, the pair glancing to him. As Leirion reached the cliff edge, he soared up and round, slamming to the grass.

Rhaenar jolted, her head rising as his lowered, eyeing Jon Snow. He screeched, taking one step followed by another before racing across. "Easy." She uttered to him, patting his side. Rhae really did not want to deal with a dead King of the North; the last thing she was prepared for was the Kingdom to rain down upon her with the fury of angry Northern Lords because her dragon wanted a bite.

Leirion hesitated, stopping just before Jon before roaring loudly, the sound deafening upon their ears. Her gloved hand continued to pat him, desperate to ease whatever he was feeling. He was normally calm, far calmer than the others when facing newcomers but this...? She'd never faced that before. She swallowed as he grew silent, lowering further onto his wings as his head dropped to Jon's level.

Jon was shitting himself, he couldn't deny that as the large dragon faced him off, two wide white eyes staring into his soul as the head came closer. Rows of sharp teeth the size of his arm glinted back, hot breath flickering around him, ruffling at his cloak. He'd never seen an animal this large, this ferocious as it stood in front of him. The low grumbles continued to spill from the dragon's throat, Rhaenar gazing down cautiously as Jon whipped off his glove, raising out his hand.