Viserys watched Meleys disappear into the darkness, his face expressionless, and gently patted the soft, pale hand Rhaenys had tucked into the crook of his arm.
He could feel the slight chill on the back of her hand, so he murmured something to her, then led her through the crowd, who still stood looking up, shaken by what they had seen, toward the King's Tower at Castle Black.
The rekindled torches stretched their shadows across the rough ice stone floor, where they swayed and twisted slightly.
Viserys settled Rhaenys into a relatively warm, well-furnished room upstairs in the tower-the same room he had stayed in on his last visit.
Castle Black offered little comfort. Even its finest room was steeped in the chill of northern stone. Viserys ordered more firewood brought in.
Rhaenys looked a little tired. The long flight and the bitter cold of the North had drained most of her energy, but her violet eyes remained bright as she silently watched Viserys personally tend to her needs.
Only when Viserys finally thought the room was warm enough did he take Rhaenys into his arms and lie down to rest with her.
But just as he was about to fall asleep, he suddenly sensed an extremely faint, familiar presence, sending ripples through his consciousness. It was moving cautiously but steadily toward the part of the tower where he and Rhaenys were staying.
That presence carried the scent of wind and snow from beyond the Wall, wild and resilient, mingled with a trace of human warmth and a faint, fresh scent like pine needles.
At last, the presence stopped at a corridor junction some thirty or forty paces from their room. It neither advanced nor retreated, simply "standing" there in silence, as though it had become part of the wall