[ Rhaenyra is similarly dressed for colder weather now — much less forgiving than even their family seat on Dragonstone often boasts, closer to what Jacaerys likely endured during his visit to Winterfell on her behalf. Snow crunches beneath her boots as she ventures from her and Daemon's rooms to the stables, and while her gaze occasionally darts behind her, verifying that no one has followed her, the path she takes is one that would make it difficult for anyone to stalk her without the snow-covered path giving away their presence.
Of course, Jace is already standing there in wait for her when she enters, stepping across straw-covered floors into a more heated exterior. Here, the horses are well-kept, protected from the cold, blankets draped over their backs, but their breaths are visible at this hour, soft exhales and nickers occasionally emerging from the various stalls. ]
Your message seemed rather imperative. [ And Rhaenyra has often made an effort not to keep her son waiting, even before their arrival here, now that he has grown into someone she trusts significantly more than her own small council. She approaches quietly, reaching out to set a careful hand on Jace's shoulder. ] Are you well?
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Of course, Jace is already standing there in wait for her when she enters, stepping across straw-covered floors into a more heated exterior. Here, the horses are well-kept, protected from the cold, blankets draped over their backs, but their breaths are visible at this hour, soft exhales and nickers occasionally emerging from the various stalls. ]
Your message seemed rather imperative. [ And Rhaenyra has often made an effort not to keep her son waiting, even before their arrival here, now that he has grown into someone she trusts significantly more than her own small council. She approaches quietly, reaching out to set a careful hand on Jace's shoulder. ] Are you well?