Rhaenys followed briskly behind Viserys. She, too, wore warm black leathers beneath a gray fur cloak, her long black hair braided and draped over her shoulder.
Her steps were light, leaving almost no trace on the ground, the result of years of dance training and swordsmanship practice.
But after only a few steps, she suddenly stopped and turned to look at Meleys, who lay beside King Ghidorah.
King Ghidorah lay quietly in the center of the courtyard, three heads lowered and six eyes half-closed, as though dozing.
Meleys extended her long tongue and licked the ice clinging to her claws. Some of it came from the climate here in the North, while the rest had formed from the cold radiating from King Ghidorah. A layer of white frost covered the ground around Meleys.
Meleys and the other dragons native to the world of A Song of Ice and Fire were different from King Ghidorah. King Ghidorah now possessed an ice attribute and had no fear of the North's cold.
But Meleys and the others were the dragons of House Targaryen, masses of living flame. Their blood ran scalding hot, their breath burned, and heat like molten lava surged beneath their scales.
They did not like cold environments such as the North at all. Here, they had to expend more energy to maintain their body temperature, which meant they needed enough food to replenish what they burned.
"Are you hungry?" Rhaenys walked up beside Meleys's head and gently stroked it as the dragon reached toward her.
Meleys turned her head, fixing her enormous eyes on Rhaenys. Each was as large as a soldier's shield, with a vertical slit pupil and a gaze that seemed unfathomably deep.
At Rhaenys's touch, Meleys let out a low rumble. Her nostrils flared, spraying a gust