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The snow bit at her bare toes, stained red and purple from the berries they’d collected the day before to hide any cold damage she might endure. She understood the need now, as sharp chills travelled up her veins, pricking at her most intimate parts with each step.
A soft crunch followed her steps as Helaena made her way through the Godswood, whoever watched over her ensuring she did not make a mistake in this most dire moment. The setting sun followed her back, lowering slowly and casting an orange and purple glow across the pale ice and snow, the sounds of the keep quieting down to nothing, overcome instead by the hum of the forest as she stood beneath the burning red leaves of a tree.
Even as her feet ached, she continued on till she stood directly below its knotted face. The weirwood did not speak, but the icy breeze carried a whisper, sweet and warm in the stinging cold. The same melody that she often sang with her as she hummed as a child in her lessons now promised her this was as the old gods had intended it. That she would be one with the forest, would be worthy of the North, should she follow this path.
The velvet cloak around her shoulders, lined in lush furs her husband had hunted for, then embroidered in silver thread and adorned with pearl beads by her hand, fell down her shoulders, skimming the curves of her waist and pooling at her feet. There she stood, in nothing but her long namesake hair glistening in the snow’s reflection. The locks cascaded down her back, waves free of their braided confines flowed till they nearly reached her hips.
With a shaking hand, she raised the dagger in her fist towards a full bottom lip, pressing the gem encrusted blade, the hilt sharp in her hand, against the soft fatty tissue till it broke skin. Copper and iron filled her mouth, coating her tongue and awaking her senses, the ones that only came when she slumbered, tumbling through half dreams and flitting visages.
She pressed her thumb against its slick warmth, smearing the blood across her mouth and chin, dragging it farther and farther, leaving a trail down the hollow of her throat and between her breasts, ending in a smudged flourish against her sternum. She did not know where she learned the movement, or who steadied her hand, but let the blizzarding wind guide her all the same.
Her tongue pushed against her lip, sticky crimson blood rising to the surface and dripping out the corners of her mouth, fat droplets falling down like rain and staining the white snow. She caught the last few in her ruddy palms. The warmth of her blood spread with each press, rubbing them together till the crimson coated every ounce of flesh and turning to press them against the rough hewn white bark, directly over the tree’s eyes. All the blood that had come before her now washed away with winters and summers long lost, hers shining brightly against the trunk.
The wind picked up as she let her hands fall away, swinging down at her sides, instantly as if the limbs of every tree followed the sway of her arms, the forest moved. Even the small stream and pond bid her commands too, the current rising and falling in time with her shaky breaths. As if with each puff of steamy air, the forest came alive with her. She heard it then, her body one with the dirt beneath and sky above.
The rustle of a bush.
The crack of a brittle branch.
The low rumbling growl of a beast.
Helaena turned to face him in the treeline across the glassy water. Magnificent as she dreamed, even before she set foot on northern land or rode Dreamfyre in the winter sky. He prowled and paced before her, a coat of dark brown fur, fine as any Jade Sea silk, it shone in the last dapples of daylight flitting through the trees. They stared at each other as the sun finally set upon them and twilight danced purple and blue across the snowy forest, icicles twinkling and fat, fluffy snowflakes falling.
As the moon rose, and yet still they had not moved. She studied his eyes, glowing silver as the stars joined them, watching and waiting. Her knees buckled from chilled exhaustion when the moon reached its highest point, and the beast before her snapped its jaws, a low growl rumbling across the clearing. Carried on an ancient wind, one that kissed her cheek and tickled her ear.
Run.
She spun in place, taking off in the distance. Each step felt like shards of frozen glass digging into the sole of her foot. Every duck and twist around a tree, she felt the pines scrape at her bare flesh. Her chest burned, ice lining her lungs with each gasping breath as she filled them to the brim. Hot tears worked down her chapped cheeks, searing the fear of the hunt into her heart.
Her blood grew hotter, though, for each frigid step it seemed to boil, blazing through her veins, propelling her forward. She dodged and jumped, had never been one for games of strength and might as her brothers did as a child, but she felt quick as a blonde winter fox manoeuvring through the woods.
He wasn’t far, though, the snap of his jaws, hot spittle from his maw flinging out at her calves and nipping at her heels. He nearly had her once, his teeth brushing against the supple skin of her thigh, as if those razor sharp teeth might lay claim to the fleshy curves.
Every step propelling her forward and the pumping of her arms was for nought, as she skittered to a stop before the far walls of Winterfell. Her chest hit the cold stone, rough and ragged against her creamy flesh, tearing at the delicate skin of her nipples. She cried out, red splotches and scratches blooming across her body, and a bark sounded behind her. Trembling legs turned slowly, bloody palms raised high in defeat as the beast stalked closer.
It too no longer sprinted, bounding and leaping after her. Now, instead, the wolf crouched low, snarling as it slinked in. Even still, it towered over her, its head nearly the size of her chest. Circling her like prey, for every step it took towards her, Helaena took one backwards, till slippery ice coated the stone cupped the curve of her arse.
Hot breath puffed from the wolf’s nostrils, steam floated up and followed the curve and roll of her belly, tickling at the undersides of her breasts. A warm snout nuzzled against her lower belly, a deep whining growl on his lips when he smelled what she lacked for now, the warmth of his breath wafting down to her core, making her knees weak.
It continued pushing its damp nose against her belly button, sniffing at her scent filling the air and moving upwards, till a long tongue, rough and barbed, reached out to lap and scratch at her smeared blood.
It made her knees buckle, slipping down the icy wall, her body shaking with fear as the wolf’s head dipped to her knee. Averting her eyes, choosing to look up at the moon hanging heavy in the sky, full and bright to guide her through what was to happen, what she had craved and dreamed of for so many years, it felt like centuries. A breeze moved a foggy cloud across its pocked surface, darkening the forest for just a moment before its hazy ethereal guidance shone down once again.
The breeze caressed her cheek and smoothed her wild hair, pushing against the side of her face, encouraging her to look down. When her eyes, pale as amethysts and bright as sapphires, tore their gaze from the sky, gone was the lush coat of fur and pointed teeth as long as her fingers.
Replaced with a head of dark curls and cracked lips, kissing at the tops of her knees, leaving an open mouth trail as it worked toward her centre.
“Cregan, oh gods, it is you!” She cried out, and he raised his silver swirling eyes, swallowed nearly whole with dark charcoal pupils. A smile pulled at his mouth, covering his face in an amused grin. He did not remove his mouth from her thigh as he spoke, shivers radiating out from the spot “You have always known it was me.”
When she did not deny him, his smile turned predatory, warily covered in his own blood, she assumed, messy streaks that carried down his neck and chest. They marked him as a leader, hand prints covering his shoulders and mixing with a thick coat of chest hair, trailing down even farther, to the curls that carried past his belly button and nestled around where his cock bobbed. Heavy between his legs, a reddened bulging mass forming at the base.
Her mouth went dry, wondering if she could even fit such a thing in her grasp, let alone inside of her. She reached out to test it, the velvet skin and throbbing veins made her head fall back, cupping at the knot growing larger by the breath, and Cregan, sounding more animal than man, descended upon her. Pulling her down into the snow with him by her ankles, remnants of the claws that had just been there pricking at her skin. His lips found her breast, mouthing and growling against her tender flesh and teasing his length between her sodden folds. His hips canting forward rutted up against her, smearing the proof of his need across her centre, marking her with his scent. Large calloused hands palmed at her hips and arse, before they pushed at her thighs, as she writhed with want beneath him. Yet it was not enough, he needed her to beg, and that she would.
Helena’s hips fell open on a desperate whimper like a wounded animal, the need almost painful in her belly. Spreading herself wide as if she were an altar christened for what was to come. Cregan pulled back for a moment, and stood perfectly still, mesmerised by the wetness coating her thighs and catching the moonlight, each soaked curl a sign of how desperately she needed him too.
Cregan could not distract himself any longer, any lingering pieces of himself lost to the rut, his eyes as black as night, as he descended upon her.