#dragonwolf

And then, when Mike finally gets to be a member of the Kingsguard, he's assigned to be Will's personal guard and accompany him everywhere since the realm is a bit fragile. And in the meantime they fall in love with each other, but can't marry because Will has to secure the Targaryen bloodline and should marry his sister, Jane. And that's something that none of them want because they love different people.

Will is in love with Mike and Jane is in love with the bard (Dustin) that stops by almost every day to perform for the royal family.

Much to the malcontent of the men-at-arms at Winterfell, Seasmoke had chosen to dig out a trench ten feet deep in the nigh-frozen earth outside the keep. After meeting with the lord of Winterfell, it was Celaena’s second order of business to go and see her mount, and try to ease some of the tension he was causing with his presence.

Seasmoke was older than her mother’s dragon and larger for being male. While still far from the size of Dreamfyre or Vhagar, he was larger than any beast the northern soldiers had ever seen. His head alone was the size of a canon, and the nest he had dug out in the earth could have fit a regiment inside of it.

Before she was in sight of him, he lifted his head into the air sniffed, detecting her scent and scanning for her. When he caught her, skirts clutched in her hands as he tromped not terribly gracefully through the snow, he thumped his massive tail on the ground like a dog. He drew up from his roost, shaking off the snow that had settled and hopped out to close some of the distance between them. When the massive beast reached her, he squatted down and lowered his neck to her level so she could rest her head against him and speak to him in High Valyrian. In response, he made a rumbling noise that sounded reminiscent of a cat’s purr.

The men on the parapets were dumbfounded by the sight. The dragon had nearly killed the best of them when they tried to retrieve the princess’s saddlebags, but faced with the princess herself he was practically docile. Combined with Celaena’s limited stature, having never caught up to her siblings in height, the experience of seeing a massive dragon be pet by a girl the size of one of its bones was uncanny.

“I heard that you’ve been causing trouble,” she spoke to Seasmoke in High Valyrian, eliciting a noncommittal huff of smoke from him.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Seasmoke. I know you don’t like it when I’m gone and you don’t know where I am.” she added, stroking his scales that were sandy grey trimmed with red. He nuzzled her head with the side of his own, wrapping her in his warmth.

“I’m not ready to fly again yet,” she apologized to him, “I was ill, and I’m better but still very tired.” Seasmoke huffed smoke again, but didn’t act out. She considered that perhaps he had truly been fretting over her these past two days, only remaining because of her scent within the keep kept him fixed. At that thought, she attempted as much of an embrace of his flank that she could, and leaned into his big body. They remained like that for some time, until the chill of the air forced her to withdraw, and promise to return later.

In the meantime, it was time to make amends for Seasmoke’s trespasses.

Celaena sought out Jeyne again when she returned to the keep. The woman was hauling flour bags - which no doubt required great strength - when the princess appeared in the threshold. Upon slinging one into the chest that contained the others, she clapped the loose powder from her hands and then looked up, seeing Celaena.

“Your grace!” she exclaimed, startling the other staff in the kitchen to attention. “Are ye lost?”

“No, I’m quite alright, Jeyne,” she assured the older woman, stepping down the two stone stairs into the kitchen proper. “I was wondering if you had the opportunity to pass along the purse I gave you earlier.”

Jeyne glanced to the kitchen, which was being cleaned between the midday and evening meal. “Eh, no, your grace.” she replied.

“In that case, could your staff spare you to help me with an errand?” Celaena asked, nodding in acknowledgement to the kitchenmaids who curtsied low in deference, murmuring their respects. “It would mean very much to me.”

One of the older maids nodded to Jeyne, who reached to untie her apron and replied, “Of course, princess. What is it you need me for?”

As they walked through the keep and out to the inner bailey - stopping to retrieve warmer clothes on their way - Celaena explained her intentions. The groom in the stable was more than willing to allow the princess use of one of the wheelhouses for her purposes, and Jeyne explained to the driver where they needed to be taken. After half an hour, they arrived outside of a thatched-roof farm, with smoke billowing out of the chimney in its center. In the adjoining field, a man was carrying hay out to a barn.

“Should we approach the house, first, Jeyne?” the princess asked, suddenly feeling more wary. Her bravado had carried her this far, but actually standing in the snow outside the farm, it occurred to her that in speaking directly to the smallfolk, she was out of her depth.

“Aye,” Jeyne nodded. “I ken that’s the right thing to do, your grace.”

Celaena hovered a moment longer, and Jeyne added, “Would ye like me to accompany you?”

“Would you?” Celaena implored, and the cook chuckled.

They walked, arm in arm, to the wooden door of the house and knocked. Children noisly called out within to their mother, and a short woman appeared in the opened doorway. She clearly had not been expecting them, and her expression shifted from consternation to shock as she opened and closed her mouth without speaking.

“Hello,” Celaena began, and looked to Jeyne for assurance. The old woman nodded in encouragement and the princess continued. “I understand that my dragon has caused damage to your property, and I would like to effectively compensate you. May we come in?”

The woman’s eyes went wide, but she nodded vigorously. “Certainly,” she said, a distinct northern brogue, thicker than Jeyne’s was evident in her speech. “If you’ll, eh, excuse the mess, madam.”

The door opened into a large central room, a fireplace and stove in the middle of the room, with a dining table and benches nearby. Two worn chairs were sat by the fire, and three small children sat on the ground nearby, playing with wooden toys. A few rooms broke off from the central room into other parts of the house, and a back door exited into the field. The smallfolk woman ushered her children into one of the rooms, apologizing profusely to Celaena as she gathered toys into her apron, and offered her one of the worn chairs.

“Will you take a drink?” She offered, fidgeting with her hands after she had tucked the toys into a cabinet.

“Oh, that’s quite fine, I don’t want to impose,” Celaena began, but Jeyne placed a hand on her shoulder and said to the woman. “We’ll have a tea, please.”

“Oh,” Celaena said, then affirmed, “Of course. Thank you,”

The woman returned a few moments later with two mugs of a hot, spiced liquid and sat awkwardly across from the princess.

“It was very kind of you to welcome us in,” Celaena began, and considered her words. “I am an emissary of Queen Rhaenyra, who has just come into her crown. I was sent to Winterfell on dragonback to deliver a message, but alas, I became ill shortly after arriving. My dragon, Seasmoke, was unsettled after not seeing me for several days, and I understand her may have pursued your cattle during that time.”

The smallfolk woman, still evidently shocked at the visit, nodded. “Afraid so, madam. Three of our heifers were lost.”

“I am very sorry.” Celaena said, and took a sip of the tea. “And I am sorry as well I could not have addressed the loss sooner. I would like to compensate your family, either by purchasing new cattle or perhaps paying you for the cost of them.”

The woman shook her head, “I could not ask such of thing of you,” she said, but trailed off for lack of a name or title.

“Princess Celaena,” she supplied. The smallfolk woman’s eye widened and she waved her hands in objection.

“Princess, certainly not,” She said hoarsely.

“I insist. And you are not asking, lady, I am offering.” Celaena countered.

The woman appeared torn, but finally nodded. “I - the heifers are important for us, in money means.”

“Of course,” Celaena nodded, and looked to Jeyne. The cook fished out the purse, and offered it to the woman. “Will this be enough?”

The woman carefully opened the strings of the purse, and looking in, drew in a sharp gasp. “Mada- your grace, this is too much,” she said, shaking her head.

“Please,” Celaena urged. “If not outright for the cows, then consider it to be an… investment in your farm.”

When the smallfolk woman still appeared torn, she added, “It would mean very much to me if you would accept this.”

Finally the woman caved. “I - I don’t know what to say, your grace. This is most generous.”

Celaena beamed. “I am very glad to help, in anyway I can. I will be at Winterfell for some more time yet, and I fervently hope that if you have need of aide in some way, you will feel comfortable coming to me.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, “Truthfully.”

Unsure of how to reply exactly, Celaena nodded, and sipped the remainder of her tea.

Back at Winterfell, Celaena and Jeyne dismounted from the wheelhouse just in time to see Cregan Stark saddling his charger to ride out.

“Princess,” he called out, surprised, stepping away from the groom and the horse. Though not expecting to see her, it obviously was not an unwelcome surprise - he grinned as he approached, and stopped directly before them. He had dressed more for the weather, with his great bear cloak on and leather riding gloves. Celaena tried not to stare at him, but felt her cheeks flush all the same as his gaze in turn settled on her.

It was the cold wind, she told herself.

“Lord Stark,” she greeted politely. “Your cook, Jeyne, was kind enough to humor me on an errand of some personal importance.”

He glanced to Jeyne, who nodded in corroboration. “Well, in that case,” he said, “I am glad she was available to aide you. If you need help with another matter, you may also ask me, princess. Not that Jeyne,” he smiled at the older woman, “Is not competent for the role, but as your host, I should like to aide you where I can.”

“Oh,” Celaena nodded, “I will bear that in mind.” she paused, and regarded his horse behind him. “Where do you go now, my lord?”

“Hm? Oh, yes - into town to mediate a dispute. I should be back in time for supper, where I hope to see you, your grace.” he explained, nodding towards her.

“I should like to be there,” Celaena smiled. His own grin grew a little wider, and his eyes passed her over appreciatively, before his stormy eyes landed back on hers again.

“Good. Until then, princess.” He bid her goodbye for now, and turned to go mount his horse.

Jeyne saw the princess back to her rooms, and urged her to rest before supper. Celaena begrudgingly agreed, beginning to feel the fatigue settling in again.

As the cook returned to the kitchens, she considered the interaction she had witnessed in the stables. She had been in service to House Stark since the old lord, Cregan’s father, was a young man. She had watched Cregan grow from a babe and helped nurse him through his childhood ailments. She had seen him make eyes at women at revels, but not to his guest - a princess, no less - in his own stables, in broad daylight. She believed him to be - generally, knew him to be - an honorable man. She didn’t mistrust his intentions, so much as found his sudden behavior amusing.