Alaric let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He did not loosen his hold. If anything, his arms tightened, solid and unyielding, keeping her close.
Roslin peeked out from the folds of his cloak. Ahead, the two black wolves moved through the snow with ease, their dark forms cutting clean paths through the drifts.
The high ridges of the North showed no kindness. As the sun slipped behind the sharp horizon, the wind rose and howled, driving ice against skin and stone alike. Alaric guided the horse into a narrow hollow built into the hillside, its low rock walls blocking the worst of the gale.
He dismounted and went to work at once. Within minutes, a small fire burned between the stones. Its light flickered across the snow and caught in the fur of Livy and Rivy as they settled on either side of the warmth.
Roslin sat on a flat rock near the flames, still wrapped head to toe in his heavy cloak. She looked small inside it, her face pale, her eyes following Alaric as he moved around the camp.
Every so often, she glanced at him as if to speak. Each time, she stopped when his dark eyes turned her way.
At last, he straightened and faced her.
"You've been staring at me for ten minutes," he said. His voice carried low through the wind.
"What is it you want to ask?"
She flinched and pulled the cloak tighter around herself.
"My lord," she said, her eyes fixed on the flames. "I was thinking... about that food you gave me. The one in the silver wrap." She paused, her courage nearly failing.
"The bread we have is so hard, and the water tastes of iron," she whispered. "If it is possible... could I perhaps have something like that again? It was... it was very good!".
Alaric watched her, a dark, amused glint in his eyes. To a girl raised on the bland, heavy fare of a medieval castle, the chocolate had been a revelation.
He reached inside his jerkin. A moment later, he pulled free a fresh ration bar and a small bottle of water. The firelight hid the faint shimmer that followed the motion.
[- 50 MP]
[MP = 4,732]
He tossed the silver-wrapped bar into her lap. "Eat. It will keep you... not starving"
He didn't look back as he adjusted his gear. "Don't expect this every night. The road to Winterfell is long."
Roslin caught it with stiff fingers. The cold had numbed them, but when she tore the wrapper open, the scent made her pause. A tired smile touched her lips. She took a bite, and the sweetness settled her breathing.
"Thank you, my lord," she said softly.
She leaned closer to the fire, resting against the great wolf beside her as the warmth spread through her chest.
By nightfall, the flames sank to red embers. The wind crept back into the hollow, probing the stone walls. Alaric sat with his back against Rivy's thick flank, still and steady, the cold barely touching him.
Roslin watched him from across the dying fire.
The space between them felt wide. Beyond it, the forest loomed even larger—dark, endless, and full of sound.
At last, she rose. Her steps were slow and unsure, her joints stiff from the cold. She crossed the hollow without speaking and lowered herself beside him, close enough to feel his heat.
Alaric opened his eyes.
He said nothing. His arm came around her waist and drew her in. The motion was firm, certain. Roslin let out a thin breath and pressed her face into his tunic. Warmth seeped into her bones.
His hold tightened, solid and unbreakable, as the wind scraped uselessly over the stone above them.
In the silence of the North, Alaric closed his eyes, holding the girl like a prize he had pulled from the mud.
Beside them, the two black wolves lay. Their steady breathing was the only sound in the dark. The fire had died down to a few glowing red embers. Outside, the wind screamed, but the hollow smelled of pine, smoke, and the warm scent of the wolves.
Alaric kept his arm around Roslin's waist. He could feel her heart racing against his ribs. She felt small and soft compared to the hard leather and steel he usually wore.
He looked down at her. In the dim light, her skin was pale. Her breath came in short hitches, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into him. The heat between them had changed; it wasn't just for survival anymore.
Alaric's hand shifted. His fingers traced her hip and moved to the small of her back. She shuddered, but not from the cold.
"You're breathing hard, Roslin," he murmured. His voice was a low vibration she felt against her skin.
Roslin kept her head tucked under his chin. She was overwhelmed by his scent—cloves, rain, and raw power. "It's... it's the air, My Lord," she whispered, though she didn't sound like she believed it herself.
Alaric let out a short, dry breath. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were wide, filled with fear and a new, heavy longing. She had spent her life behind high walls, kept as a prize to be traded. She didn't understand why her skin felt so sensitive or why her stomach was tightening.
He just watched her, his thumb tracing her jawline. Roslin licked her lips, a nervous and quick habit.
"You've never been touched like this," Alaric said.
"No," she breathed. Her fingers bunched the leather of his tunic into her fists. "Never."
Alaric leaned down until their faces were inches apart. He could feel her warm breath on his lips. He wasn't a gentle man and didn't offer sweet words. He simply closed the distance, pressing his mouth to hers.
Roslin gasped. The pressure of his mouth was firm and sudden. She froze for a moment, but when his hand tightened around her waist, she pulled herself closer. Her eyes drifted shut. She didn't know where to put her hands, so she just gripped his shoulders, holding on as the world seemed to spin around her.
Alaric didn't pull away. He tightened his grip, pulling her body flat against his. He pressed harder, his lips parting hers with steady pressure.
Roslin let out a soft moan as his tongue moved past her teeth. The feeling was hot and overwhelming. She had never imagined a kiss could feel like this. Everything else disappeared except the taste of him and the slow, steady rhythm of the way he moved.
She felt dizzy. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she finally slid her hands down to his chest. Every time their tongues touched, a jolt of heat shot through her and settled deep in her stomach. She followed his lead, tentatively moving her tongue to match his.