A biting north wind swept through the sky, ten thousand meters above the ground.
The outline of Riverrun had long since vanished beyond the horizon.
In its place lay the Neck's endless dark-green swamps, and farther north, a vast expanse of snowbound land.
Every beat of Winter's wings sent a howling gust tearing through the sky.
Lynn sat on the dragon's back, looking down at the mountains and rivers racing past beneath him.
The schemes and bloodshed of the South seemed to have been left far behind on that bone-chilling wind.
This was the North.
His North.
The crisp air, scented with pine needles and frost, left him feeling thoroughly refreshed.
Before he had crossed into this world, winter had been the season Lynn hated most.
Now, though, it felt strangely welcoming.
Roslin Frey clung tightly to Lynn's waist.
She buried her entire face against his back.
She did not dare open her eyes.
The howling wind and the constant shifts between weightlessness and crushing weight with every wingbeat made her feel as though her heart would leap out of her throat.
Under such intense stimulation, she needed to pee, but was too embarrassed to say so.
Never in her dreams had she imagined this.
That one day, she would ride on the back of a dragon that existed only in legend, flying across the entire Riverlands!
Once again, this man had overturned her understanding of the world in a way she could not begin to comprehend!
It had also left her with an almost blind adoration of Lynn.
"We're here."
Lynn's voice cut through the wind and reached her ears clearly.
Roslin cautiously opened her eyes a crack.
A great gray castle appeared at the edge of her vision.
Winterfell.
As the dragon slowly descended, the castle came into