Wolfsblood

Arthur had started to hate the South the moment he passed through Moat Cailin, his disdain for this land grew when he stepped foot into King's Landing, and had kept growing almost every time he had met a southern Lord or knight. And now here he was; standing in Storm's End's Great hall, surrounded by southerners that had kept whispering about Rhaenyra and him over the past six days. Before his princess' courtship, some crows had perched near the windows of the Lords' guest rooms, where many had been drinking and suppering together. The whispers the crows had heard had not been appreciated by the son of House Stark. Indeed, more than half of those men believed Rhaenyra to be feeble, arguing that she would see reason once she'd realize that no one would support her claim and that . And after that, she will be so desperate to find herself a good match that the House with the most wealth and the strongest castle will more than likely win her hand. Then, they had proceeded to engage in a pissing contest in order to guess which House Rhaenyra would marry into. This event pushed Arthur into starting a list of Houses that would, more than likely, never support his Princess' claim. A list that grew longer by the days. The pettiness of those lords did not stop there though, once Rhaenyra had politely rejected each of those lords and heirs by reminding them that she needed a consort, and not a castle, the crows started to hear different whispers during the evening. Rude whispers, that specifically targeted Arthur, and not his Princess. According to the Lords Estermont, Lonmouth, Penrose and Peaseburry, Rhaenyra had rejected their proposals because a "filthy Northern barbarian" had spited nonsense in her ear. Others even went as far as asking Lord Baratheon to oust the Stark from Storm's End, for he was more than likely manipulating the Princess into marrying himself. Lord Boremund refused to do anything of the sort, but he still promised to send a raven to the King in order to warn him of his daughter's questionnable adviser, a raven that had gone straight to Arthur's window and found itself inside Shadow's mouth after the northerner had retrieved the message.

As the days went by, Rhaenyra's patience grew thinner, so much so that the Princess actually snapped at Lord Carron when he promised to be a dutiful husband, that would take special care in satisfying his wife every night if needed be. The courtship had ended earlier because of her outburst, and Arthur had tried to ease his Princess' temper. Unfortunately, there was a Dragon roaring inside Rhaenyra's heart, and the Stark was not nearly cold enough to quell her fire. She had slammed the door of her room in his face and command him to go away. She hadn't come out for supper that night, and according to Ser Criston, it took her many hours to grow tired enough to go to sleep.

At least, that's what he had figured out from all the noise she had made.

Arthur himself started to feel his strength leave him, this courtship was turning into a disaster. So far, only one Lord had declared himself honored to meet his future Queen; Lord Buckler. All the others had come to gain themselves a bride and were now leaving, spreading puddles of lies along the way out.

Rhaenyra's constant irritation ended when the first riverman presented himself to her; Lord Jorah Mallister's manners were far better than most of his counterparts from the Stormlands, and when Rhaenyra had gently rejected him once she had learned that he already had two sons from a first marriage, he simply bowed in understanding and thanked his future Queen for her time.

Arthur had done his best to prevent a pleased grin from appearing on his face. With such a good display of politeness and humility the Lord of Seagard had stood out from all the stormlanders that had presented themselves before the Princess. The latter actually took pleasure into embarrassing the stormlords by describing him out loud as the most pleasant lord she has had the chance to meet since the beginning of her courtship. Arthur did not correct her, for he thought the same and considering the whispers the crows had heard, he considered that the majority of the Stormlords had been lost to Aegon before their arrival, and what remained of them still had the chance to rise to Lord Mallister's level when they will be given the opportunity to propose to Rhaenyra.

The young Valyrian invited Lord Jorah to supper with her in order to properly thank him for his display of loyalty and to learn more about Seagard and the different troubles its Lord and common folk encountered daily. Lord Mallister had appreciated the Princess' show of concern, and had left Storm's End with the future Queen's promise to find a proper way to better Seagard's defenses against the Ironborn.

Lord Jorah's proposal greatly influenced the other lords, as the river lords and remaining stormlords had approached Rhaenyra with far better manners than the previous contenders. Unfortunately, despite the fact that the Princess had found herself sharing a meal with more Lords than she should have - for a few of them had only pretended to be more than what they actually were- the problems remained the same. Rhaenyra had still not found a proper match, and Arthur's list of Lords that would not support her claim grew longer than she could have possibly imagined. The river lords were a breath of fresh air, for many of them were actual supporters of her claim. Yet, the Riverlands were not as strong as the Stormlands, and barely half of them had declared themselves faithful subjects of the Future Queen.

Said Future Queen felt herself grow tired and tired every time she realized that there was one more Lord that did not and would not, see her as the one that would one day, sit on the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra was a strong woman, but strength was not enough to face her trials on her own. What she secretly craved was support.

On their fifth day in Storm's End, she extended to Arthur, an invitation to speak privately in her room. An invitation that the northerner denied, explaining that if he was seen entering her chamber alone, rumors would spread across the castle, and soon enough, the Realm, that they were secret lovers and that he had defiled her. Rhaenyra grew so angry and frustrated that she almost screamed to ease all the weight that was crushing her heart. However, all she did was dismiss him for the night. But once he had left, she realized that Shadow was still by her side. Despite his monstrous size, the Direwolf still looked like a giant black puppy, every time he had his tongue hanging out and his stare soft. Rhaenyra went inside her room with him despite Ser Criston's worried glance, and once she had closed the door, she immediately proceeded to hug his neck despite the fact that she was smaller than he was, she cried softly in his fur to release all the stress and frustration that had been growing inside her since she had stepped foot inside this damn castle. It had taken her almost an hour to finally be out of tears to shed, and once she had pulled her head from the wolf's fur, she gently thanked him with a soft peck on his nose. She then proceeded to remove her dress to put her nightgown on, and went to bed with the beast's head lying on her chest. She hugged him tightly as she fell asleep.

Rhaenyra entered the great hall with renewed strength and a confidence that she had almost forgotten she had. Her sleep had been the most restful she's had in years, and Shadow's presence by her side had brought her more comfort and relief than she ever thought the beast could give. What she found strange though, was the fact that Arthur looked like he had not slept, perhaps he needed his direwolf's presence even more than she did. The fact that he had not come back to look for Shadow was proof in the Princess' eyes that he must have known what she needed and what the beast had given her. As she sat on the ancestral seat of the Durrandon, she promised herself to thank her adviser for his support, for no one else could have provided what she had craved that night.

The first contender of the day stepped forward, Lord Dondarrion of Blackhaven, a man so old that she doubted his ability to procreate was still intact.

Once more, she inwardly thanked Shadow and Arthur, if not for them, she wouldn't have been able to face even the most feeble man of the Realm.

Arthur had a very long night, but Rhaenyra could not possibly start to imagine why.

When she had asked him to stay in her room for a 'private conversation' last night, he had believed her to be genuine in her wish, and that was why he had denied her with a pragmatic explanation without thinking about how terrible she might be feeling. When fury rose without warning in her beautiful purple eyes, he had immediately realized his mistake. And that was why he had left Shadow behind him, to provide his Princess with a comforting presence. However, as the minutes passed, Arthur had started to wonder how things were going for Rhaenyra, so he had warged inside his wolf's mind, and widened his now yellow eyes as he felt the girl's tears against his fur. Rhaenyra, despite her many flaws, had always stood proud as a dragon. To see her in such a state of weakness had not been a pleasant experience, and he had been glad he had left Shadow behind. The cause of his troubled sleep had not come from there, no, the problem was far deeper, and Rhaenyra, despite her ignorance in the role she had played, had been the catalyst. The interaction between the skinchanger's and animal's minds influence both personalities, with detrimental effects to the human if the animal's influence is not fought. It is much easier for a skinchanger to do so if a bond exists between the two parties. However, the bond between Arthur Stark and Shadow was a lot stronger than a normal bond between a normal warg and its beast. Arthur often unconsciously warged inside Shadow during the night, when the wolf was off hunting or even when it slept. They both shared each other's dreams when that happened… Unfortunately, something else happened to Arthur that night.

When Rhaenyra had kissed his nose, it triggered something in his wolfsblood that the Stark had a hard time taming while in Shadow's body. And when she had undressed herself before his eyes, he almost lost control. As a man Arthur was a well-mannered that despised rape, and his time North of the Wall had taken away all of the shy habits of the fifteen years old he had been, it would take far more than a naked woman to make him lose his mind. But as a wolf, he had been in heat, and the overwhelming urge to breed had almost gotten the best of him. His night had been sleepless; a constant fight between the man and the wolf within him to prevent himself from harming the sleeping Princess. He tried to focus on his prior task, comforting the Valyrian woman, however, when she locked her arms around his head and brought it to her chest, she almost made him abandon his humanity to succumb to his bestial desires. Arthur had fought all night to protect Rhaenyra from himself, only at dawn, was he able to regain enough sense to return to his body, but the night-long fight had taken its toll on his mind, and to top it all, his wolfsblood had not been subdued, only eased. Rhaenyra's presence was not easy to deal with; her smell was still in his mind, as well as the image of her naked body. He needed to quench his wolfsblood's hunger one way or another.

Fortunately for him, Lord Dondarrion proved to be a relatively good distraction from his troubled mind, all he had to do, was not look at Rhaenyra, which was easier said than done.

"… the walls of Blackhaven are unscalable vassalstone. And the castle is surrounded by a deep, dry moat. It is well fortified against any future Dornish incursions. And though my seat may be lesser in size, it is situated most pleasingly…"

Arthur almost groaned when he realized the man was talking about his castle, yet another that would not support his Princess' claim to the throne.

Things started to get ridiculous when the Lord of Blackhaven spotted a jug of wine that had been displayed for the contenders. Arthur would have thrown an exasperated look in Lord Boremund's direction, had Rhaenyra not been in the very same direction.

Instead, he chose to exchange his look with Ser Criston's, who was as dismayed as he was when Lord Dondarrion drank a full cup before resuming the details of his 'proposal'.

"The view across the Marches is inspiring, so said Queen Alysanne herself when she honored my father and I…"

"And tell me, Lord Dondarrion," Rhaenyra interrupted with a mocking tone, "Did you think my great-grandmother as beautiful as they say?"

The Lord of Blackhaven was confused.

"This was half a century ago, Princess." He informed her, as if she was a simpleton that had not realized what her question entailed.

"Yes, it was." She replied dismissively, putting the joke on him.

Laughter echoed across the hall as Lord Dondarrion turned red in embarrassment, Arthur could not help but chuckle. He knew she could have dismissed him in a better, more proper way, but considering the fact that he did not support her claim and apparently truly expected her to marry a man more than fifty years her senior, a little lesson in humility was well deserved.

Lord Boremund did not seem to share his opinion.

"That was unseemly, Princess." The Lord of Storm's End said with an inch of disapproval.

Rhaenyra was quick to retort.

"The man is older than my father." She pointed out with barely contained disgust. "It's unseemly for him to put himself forward as a contender for my hand."

Lord Boremund looked like he wanted to add something, but he found himself short on arguments, so he looked at the Princess' male adviser for help.

"What do you think, Lord Stark?"

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes, for Lord Boremund had spoken louder than he should have, now all eyes were on him. He turned his head to answer but his grey eyes crossed Rhaenyra's purple eyes, he lost himself in her fire for a second before getting a hold of himself.

"There is nothing more to say, my Lord. The Princess is looking for a consort," he reminded the Lord of Storm's End, "and as she pointed out, Lord Dondarrion is unfortunately too old to fill that role."

His way of dismissing Lord Dondarrion was far more hearable and acceptable in Lord Boremund's ears, he was about to ask for the next contender when the Lord of Blackhaven's temper got the best of him.

"And pray tell Arthur Stark, who is fit enough to fill that role? You? A boy who stands to inherit nothing but the mud under his boots and the snow he grew in?"

Had Arthur looked in Rhaenyra's direction, he'd have noticed the raging inferno burning behind her purple eyes, but his attention was focused on the old stormlander. He silently thanked him for providing him the distraction he had needed to bury his wolfsblood's madness deep inside his heart. He let out a long and loud sigh.

"If only I had vassalstone and a deep, dry moat," He lamented loudly.

The Lords and Ladies bursted out laughing as did Rhaenyra as she tried and failed to choke her laugh in the palm of her hand. Lord Boremund was the loudest of them all.

"Lord Dondarrion!" He exclaimed in a booming voice. "You've embarrassed yourself long enough! Next!"

The Lord of Blackhaven froze in place as his face grew redder with embarrassment, he quickly removed himself from the center of the hall while muttering something that was covered by the laughs at his expense.

Rhaenyra had a hard time regaining her composure. It wasn't until she saw the next contestant that she stopped laughing and looked even more embarrassed than Lord Dondarrion had.

She simply could not believe what she was seeing.

"And now a child." She muttered in despair.

With his wolfsblood under control, Arthur slightly bend himself forward to whisper in her ear.

"Be nice, he probably does not want to be here either, he came out of duty, look how embarrassed and uncomfortable he looks. Put him at ease and hear him out, you might win an ally at the very least."

Lord Boremund had not heard the Stark's words, but he saw fit to share his opinion after he'd seen the Princess's incredulous look.

"The Blackwoods are an ancient house with a formidable army. In the Riverlands, they once ruled as kings. The blood of the First Men still flows in their veins."

Rhaenyra let out a quiet sigh, then, she smiled at the young heir of Raventree Hall. Unfortunately, she underestimated the influence she had on men, or on boys for that matter. For this boy blushed furiously, and seemed so hypnotized by her beauty that he forgot to speak.

"Good morning my Lord, to whom am I speaking?" She asked him without realizing the effect she was having on him.

The boy seemed to remember his manners as he hastened to clear his throat.

"I… I am Willem Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall, at your service, my princess." He bowed.

"I am pleased to meet you," she said with a genuine smile.

She was not lying, after meeting so many old Lords and hardened knights, seeing a person like Willem approach her was refreshing. She already knew she was going to politely dismiss him due to his youth. But if he were to declare himself as a supporter to her claim, then he would probably be a better guest for lunch than most of the lords.

"Go on."

"My Princess... ours is a bond that has long endured, since Lucas Blackwood, the grandsire of my grandsire, aided the Dragon in his war of conquest...

"Aye, the Blackwoods truly turned the tide on that one."

Both Arthur and Rhaenyra turned their heads left to discover Lord Jerrel Bracken wearing a sadistic grin while the lords laughed at his mockery. The Princess chuckled slightly before quietly motioning for her adviser to lean forward again.

"Why is this man mocking the Blackwood heir?"

"That's a Bracken, their feud with the Blackwoods is thousands of years old."

Rhaenyra's eyebrows almost flew away.

"What happened?"

"It's a very long story." Arthur warned as the laughters started to die down. "Whatever you do, try to not pick a side."

Despite her frustration, Rhaenyra nodded before motioning for Willem to continue, the heir to Raventree Hall swallowed his pride back and did his duty.

"Coursed with the blood of the First Men, our history is deeply rooted in this land, which your house has made its home. If chosen as your match, Princess... your days shall be easy and nights safe under my protection."

"Protection?" The Bracken heir laughed. "The Princess has a dragon, you dumb cunt."

Once again, the lords and ladies started to laugh at the young boy's expense, the latter tried to ignore his rival in order to continue, but Rhaenyra had had enough.

"Lord Willem, I thank you for coming." She said with her queenly voice. « Unfortunately, you are too young to be my match, but do not wonder too far my lord, I would love to have you as a guest for lunch."

Despite the rejection he had faced, Willem Blackwood looked relieved by the Princess' words, he bowed respectfully.

"Thank you, my princess."

He started to walk away in order to sit on one of the many benches, but Lord Jerrel was not done with him yet.

" Craven." He spat.

That had been the last straw, for the young Blackwood unsheathed his steel out of fury in front of a shocked crowd. Arthur reacted without even realizing that his wolfsblood had broken free.

"You're under guest rights!" He barked with such strength that everyone in the hall flinched. "Do this the right way!"

Willem realized his mistake and bowed in shame as he sheathed his steel.

"Apologies Princess, Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon." He replied as Rhaenyra was incinerating her adviser with her eyes. "I will not be called a craven. I challenge you, Lord Jerrel, to a duel."

Some Lords cheered at the prospect of bloodshed, Lord Jerrel laughed out loud while many young ladies started to leave the hall, the older ones stayed.

Rhaenyra grabbed Arthur's sleeve and pulled him over.

"What the hell was… that…?"

In an instant, her fury had been replaced with worry, for her adviser's grey eyes had turned yellow. The clash with her purple iris ignited something in Rhaenyra that she was unable to describe.

"Arthur? What…?"

The Stark gently freed himself from her grasp to focus on the two fighters' preparations.

"I'm sorry." He struggled to say as his instinct was getting the best of him. "But under such circumstances, Lord Boremund would have been forced to imprison Lord Willem for unsheathing a sword in his hall while under guest rights. A duel is a better way to settle this, it prevents an open war between the Brackens and the Blackwoods, and it prevents Lord Boremund from meddling in a delicate matter."

"Your adviser is right, Princess." Lord Baratheon said with a thankful glance in the Stark's direction.

Rhaenyra could not care less about the Bracken and the Blackwood, she wanted to know why her adviser's eyes had turned yellow like a damn wolf! The number of questions inside her head almost doubled when she realized that despite the loud noise in the hall and its friend strange behavior, Shadow was still soundly asleep on her laps. Weren't direwolves supposed to have a better instinct than humans?

Arthur did his best to repel his wolfish instinct by focusing on the duel that wad about to happen.

Jerrel unsheathed a dagger and walked forward with a smirk on his face and his father's pat on the back. While poor Willem Blackwood looked alone and frightened despite the sword in his hands. The two began to circle each other. Jerrel lazily thrust forward a few times and taunted him to the delight of the crowd. Willem raised his sword and brought it down in an angled arc and as Jerrel attempted to block it, the heir to Raventree Hall pulled the sword back mid swing and thrust it through the Bracken's chest. Willem stepped back as his victim stumbled backwards before turning to stumble towards him, Rhaenyra widened her eyes in horror when the Bracken fell and died on the Blackwood, the weight of its older and larger body pinned him to the ground. The boy tried to free himself, but the wetness of Jerrel's blood and guts infiltrated his clothes and made him vomit. The Targaryen Princess grimaced at the gruesome sight before her and felt the dire need

Lord Boremund rose to declare Willem the victor, however Jerrel's father drew his sword and charged towards Willem's neck.

Rhaenyra almost screamed when she saw Arthur jump like Shadow from her side to punch Lord Bracken in the jaw, a resonant crack echoed throughout the hall as the Lord of Stone Edge was thrown to the floor by the sheer force of the hit.

Many undignified and furious exclamations followed the Stark's intervention, as he went to Lord Willem's rescue, he pulled Jerrel's corpse away and pulled the heir to Raventree Hall back on his feet.

"Lord Arthur!" Lord Boremund roared as he rose from his sit, his face red with anger. "I find you guilty of breaking guest rights under my roof! Guards!"

The Baratheon knights unsheathed their swords and started to circle the Northerners as his yellow eyes were piercing the skull of Lord Rogar's son.

"On what grounds." He spat back with a bestial snarl that Rhaenyra had never heard. "Lord Willem and Lord Jerrel fought a duel and Lord Willem won. I defended the winner when Lord Bracken dishonored you, himself and the Princess!"

"And had Lord Bracken succeeded, I would have found him guilty of the same crime you committed! Such is the law, Lord Arthur, you had no jurisdiction to interfere!"

The Northerner mumbled something along the lines of "fucking southerner prick" before declaring out loud:

"As a member of a noble house, I have the right to have the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat! Name your champion, Lord Boremund!"

"My champion?! Do you believe that I will let anyone fight my battles for me?!"

"This is not your battle, Lord Baratheon." Arthur replied with a calmer tone. "It is Lord Bracken's, I have no wish to fight you over another stupid squabble between the Blackwoods and the Brackens."

The Lord of Storm's End hesitated for a second, then he took a look at the Lord of Stone Hedge who was crying as he was holding his boy's corpse. Lord Willem had rushed to his father's side who was now pleading his host with his eyes. Lord Boremund sighed loudly.

"My pride as a warrior demands that I fight you," he snarled. "However, I am not petty, nor am I stupid enough to kill a man for saving an unharmed boy. So no, I will not fight you, Arthur Stark, not today. Nor will I let any stormlander risk his life for a dishonored Riverlord. However, I cannot let this crime go unpunished."

He turned to the crowd.

"If someone here that is not a stormlander wishes to fight Arthur Stark in a trial by combat, he will be allowed to stand as my champion. If not, then Arthur Stark will be banished from the Stormlands for the rest of his life for breaking guest rights under the roof of Storm's End."

A long, a VERY long moment of silence passed as everyone waited to see if there was a lord or a knight that would be brave -or foolish- enough to fight the Stark over Lord Bracken's dishonor. When no one volunteered, Lord Boremund and Arthur both sighed in acceptance.

"Very well, Arthur Stark, I hereby…"

"I'll fight for your honor, Lord Baratheon."

Gasps of surprise echoed across the hall as a man with olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair emerged from the crowd to stand in front of the slightly taller Northerner. The man was in his twenties, wearing a simple leather armor.

"Who are you?!" Lord Boremund asked with his booming voice. "I don't remember welcoming you into my castle!"

The man bowed perfectly, yet his arrogance was clear as crystal.

"I am Qyle Nymeros Martell, and it was your steward that welcomed me inside your castle, Lord Baratheon."

The latter grew crimson in a second, he looked for his steward but couldn't find him, so his eyes went back to his latest 'guest'.

"Pray tell, what are you doing here, Lord Qyle?"

"Prince Qyle." The Dornish corrected. "And I simply wanted to see what the future Queen of the Six Kingdoms looked like."

"Me?" Rhaenyra asked tiredly.

She had been overtaken by today's events, Arthur's condition and his argument with Lord Boremund had taken a great toll from her, for she had felt powerless. To top of it all, Prince Qyle's arrival made her fear for Arthur's life.

"Yes, you." The Dornish replied. "Needless to say I was not impressed, a skinny woman draped in silk is hardly a challenge for the might of Dorne."

Cries of outrage bursted across the hall as Ser Criston took a step forward with a hand on his sword, but Rhaenyra motioned for him to stop.

"Prince Qyle, please don't pretend to be an exceptional man, I have been dealing with men like you for the past six days." She said with an adamant glare and an annoyed tone. "If the 'might of Dorne' is the cockiness of its princes, then trust me, there is nothing mighty about you but the name of your female ancestor."

Some lords laughed as the Prince rose an eyebrow in amusement at the Princess' wit, he was about to retort when Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder.

"How noble of you to leave your desert in order to rid the World of your pathetic existence. Your sacrifice to preserve your people's reputation and pride shall not be forgotten."

Qyle Martell slapped the Stark's hand with the back of its own, and held a staring contest with him.

"Enough!" Lord Boremund barked as he was growing tired of this mess of a day. "You wish to fight Arthur Stark to the death, Dornish? Then you can! Now get on with it!"

The Martell Prince rolled his eyes, then, he went to grab a spear from a young boy who could only be his squire.

"You stormlanders are so impatient, it's no wonder that I have defeated each and every one of your knights since my arrival in your lands." He said as he swung his weapon lazily. "I wanted to journey across the Seven Kingdoms to test my skills against…"

"Will you just shut up?" Arthur snarled as his yellow eyes shone in blood-thirst. "No one gives a fuck about why yar here. Fight first, if you win, you can start bragging about how good you are, if you die, everyone already realized that you're just a prideful prick who traveled to make a name of himself and failed to do so. There is nothing more to say, nothing meaningful anyway."

The Dornish clicked his tongue in annoyance, yet, took a fighting stance as Arthur unsheathed his sword to do the same.

"Let's get this over with!" Lord Boremund yelled almost in relief. "Fight!"

Qyle attacked first, thrusting his spear forward, aiming at the Stark's chest. The latter deflected the repeated attacks with a series of lateral strikes so powerful that the Dornish almost let go of his weapon. This first try made him realize how physically strong his opponent truly was, the Martell opted to use his spear in order to keep his opponent as far away as he could. Arthur took a step forward, deflected the lateral strike that had tried to reach his ribs, and heel-kicked the Dornish in the belly. The crowd cheered for the northerner as the Prince stumbled back and almost lost his footing, but he recovered and prevented his opponent from coming any closer by spinning his spear. Arthur took a step back to preserve himself from losing an eye and the Martell took this opportunity to throw himself at the northerner who bent down as the spear's blade cut the air above his head and stroke his sword, sending it to the ground a few feet away.

Now weaponless, Arthur used all the strength in his legs to throw himself like a wild predator at his prey's throat, he tackled him to the ground as he locked his cold hands around the Dornish's neck. The latter widened his eyes in alarm as he felt the crushing pressure of the Stark's fingers, he let go of his spear and tried to reach for his dagger. Unfortunately, Arthur saw it coming and used his right hand to pin his opponent's wrist. The latter was able to breath a little despite the remaining hand on his throat, and proceeded to push the Northerner's face with his free arm in order for him to let go. Rhaenyra, better than the others, knew how futile this was. Arthur had been headbuted multiple times by Ser Harwin Strong during Aegon's nameday and had not even flinched, the punches of a man half Breakbones' size would be ineffective.

The Stark realized soon enough that he would fail to properly strangle his victim, so… he finally let his wolfsblood flow through his veins. He let go of the Prince's throat to grab his hair and yanked his head back. Then, to every person present's horror -except Boremund Baratheon who laughed- he plunged his teeth in the tender flesh of the Martell's neck and bit as hard as he could.

The latter started screaming in terror and pain as he felt his flesh being torn apart by the northerner's jaw, he tried to struggle, his limbs bent and unbent in vain as a puddle of blood started forming itself around his head. Finally, Arthur Stark ripped the flesh out of the Dornish Prince's neck, ending his screams and his life. He got back up, with the meat still between his jaws, Ser Criston was sure he was chewing on it as his eyes slightly returned to their normal grey. Shadow finally awoken from its deep slumber, and looked at its friend with a glance, Rhaenyra barely noticed that, a whirlwind of emotions was swirling in her, she did not know how to feel. Nauseous because of the gruesome sight, relieved that her friend would live to see another day, worried about everything she'd seen from him, and the way Dorne would react to the death of one of its princes. And curious… curious because she was now sure that he was hiding many things from her, and she was determined to learn more.

Once he had regained his senses, Arthur opened his jaw and let his opponent flesh fall on the ground, then, he spat a trickle of blood.

"I guess we now know why dornishmen don't wander too far North!" Lord Boremund boomed as he was still laughing. "Let it be known that Arthur of House Stark, in the eyes of gods and men has proven himself not guilty of the crime of violating guest rights, I do hope he's still hungry enough for lunch though!"

Many among the crowds forced themselves to laugh and clap, the Blackwoods did so naturally. Lord Bracken and his son's corpse were nowhere to be seen, Rhaenyra supposed that some servants had taken the body away and that a master was now taking care of Bracken's broken jaw, she couldn't find it in herself to care.

Her purple eyes were still on Arthur, as he was wiping the blood around his mouth, he looked so tired. Only now did she notice the deep black circles around his eyes, she wanted to get off this uncomfortable throne, slap his handsome face and call him a moron in front of all the stupid lords that were clapping for his fury, but when his grey eyes found hers, she felt her inner fire gently dwindling. It was as if a wind from the lands of Eternal Winter had blown on one of Valyria's fourteen flames, the fire was still raging, but no longer dangerous. The cold had perfectly balanced her ardor, making it burn for something different, something that meant more.

The Northerner had finally gotten rid of his bestial instincts, only the man remained, in his relief, the man saw the woman in a real light, all the lust that had devoured his heart during the night morphed into a blooming new feeling.

Rhaenyra's and Arthur's breaths started to synchronize themselves, it was as if there was no one else but them in this cheering hall.

Ser Criston Cole was the only one to witness this.