She Wolf • |Book 2|

• Chapter Thirteen •

"You shouldn't be up here." Arya Stark said the moment her eyes fell upon Rhaella. "It's not safe."

She quietly came to a stop beside Arya, her hand resting on the stone as she peered over to watch her own men flow out of the gates and take their position among the others.

"And let you steal all the glory, I think not little warrior." She teased, taking a step back to look at Arya "Besides, if we are to die, let it be fighting."

"Can you even fight?" Arya questioned. Her own expression spoke of doubt.

Rhaella placed a hand to her hip were a sword hung, sheathed. Arya followed her gaze toward the sword. Just as she began to look up, Ser Alwin appeared, and not alone. With him came a beast of darkness, the direwolf that earned many names, one of those being Rhaella's shadow.

"Jon would never forgive me if he knew," Arya said.

"Jon is too busy with his queen to notice," Rhaella said, coming to stand beside Arya as she stared into the darkness. "Where is Sansa?"

"I am right here," came her reply as she climbed the last step, Winter following along behind her.

"You shouldn't be," said Rhaella. "You should be somewhere safe. I know you're capable of surviving, but have you actually welded a sword or knife before?"

"I can't just run and hide while my people are down there!"

"Stop it!" Arya cut in, "This isn't the time or place for arguing. Sansa, Rhaella is right. Take this and go down to the crypt. You will be safe down there."

Sansa held out her hand, accepting the dagger from Arya. "But I don't even know how to use it." She said, startled.

"Just stick them with the pointy end," Arya said.

"And if that doesn't work, a direwolf should." Rhaella turned to her. "Winter will go with you."

"But you need her."

"I have Shadow and this he-wolf himself," she replied pointing to the knight standing beside her. "Now go." She instructed just as the battle cries subsided and the flames from the Dorthraki hoard faded. "Quickly!"

"Do you think that was wise?" Alwin said. Sansa had gone and he was now pulling his sword from his sheath. "Sending them down where the dead are resting. What the hell are we fighting?"

Rhaella stared, the thought never truly occurring, "Can he raise those that are only bone?"

"What do you think the dead are?" He asked her.

"This is the man you've chosen to be by your side? A man who waits till this very moment after we just sent my sister down to her death to tell us?"

"We don't have time, Arya. You know Winterfell better than any. If you can, reach the crypts and lead them somewhere the dead can not touch them."

"You know Winterfell too," she replied. "And I have killed many. I am better up here than down there. Take Nymeria, she seems to listen to you."

"Ser Alwin," Rhaella spoke after silently staring at Arya. She turned around to face him, "Your life is now bound to her's. You have served me well, my friend." 

No argument followed. Ser Alwin peered down at Arya, a scowl carved into his face. "Something tells me it will be the other way around," he murmured, eyes still on Arya. "If your grace commands it, so be it."

She placed her hand on his arm, her lips curved into a soft smile, "Thank you, Ser Alwin."

Rhaella turned briefly to Arya to exchange a quick look before turning with her wolf at her heel to run for the crypt. As she descended the stone steps, the gates rose up to let in the retreating soldiers.

She stopped,  watching as men and women alike filed in wearing a mask of horror. Shouting filled Winterfell, silencing the pounding of boots into the mud. She could feel it though. Even as she stood on the stone steps, Rhaella could feel the vibration of hundreds of living running in fear.

Around her a breeze picked up, stirring up the fresh snow that had fallen previously. Her cloak that once kept her warm could not block the chill that broke through.

Rhaella took that last step. She went with the crowd, letting them take her until she was free to get to the other side. Her direwolf paved his own way, snapping at the heels of anyone who nearly toppled into him.

She had stopped only to look back and catch sight of her own flowing back in, some less than before. With Ser Alwin at her side, Mystic had taken it upon herself to lead the others.

The eldest twin caught her aunt's eye and immediately went to her, "Where are you going?" She demanded.

"To those sitting with the dead," she said. "Alwin just now brought up a very important point."

"Typical of him." Mystic muttered. "I'll gather our men," she then said. "Dany and Jon have done what they could, but the dead outnumbered us even with two dragons." And then she looked up, "and it's becoming impossible to see anything."

"I would tell you to stay with the others," Rhaella began, "but there is only so much three direwolves and one woman can do. Bring half and leave the others with Ser Alwin."

Without another word her niece stepped back, inclined her head and went to give the orders. Rhaella didn't wait for her men, she turned and left the moment Mystic walked away. There was no time to waste.