[indent]Lira had not prayed in many years, but as they rode beneath the shadow of the Wall and into Castle Black, she found herself muttering a small thanks that, at least for now, they’d be able to get out of this bloody cold. With every mile it seemed, the air grew more bitter and the wind a bit sharper. She remembered how, in her first weeks in King’s Landing, it had been a trial adjusting to the Crownland’s climate, and now she found herself wishing for those days when all she needed were thicker socks and a shawl to acclimate. Sitting in the cart, bundled in layers of wool, clutching a furred cloak about her shoulders, she couldn’t help but envy the northerners their resilience. Or maybe it wasn’t resilience at all, maybe they were all exactly as miserable and just good at shutting up about it. That, at least, Lira [i]could[/i] do. 

The Wall managed to distract her, anyway. She’d been transfixed on it since it’d breached the horizon, and even with those hours to contemplate it, she was still thoroughly awed. There were taller towers in Westeros, true, and grander works of art in other nations, but the Wall was something else. It was titanic and, quite literally, elemental.

Vaeron leapt from the carriage with barely-bridled enthusiasm, and once they’d come to a stop, Lira followed suit. She stepped heavily from the carriage, and as Vaeron continued to marvel at the Wall, Lira found her own attentions weighed lower, to the grounds of Castle Black and the men inhabiting it. Wolves, she thought mildly. All up and down the seven kingdoms they talked about the men of the Night’s Watch, and rarely were they words of reverence. Hardly more than a hundred years ago one would have been hard-pressed to find a single decent man among the Brothers. Now, with a bit of sifting, you might find a fistful. 

Her hand came to rest on the pommel of her sword, where it often went to roost. She watched the watchers, most closely the ones who lingered on Vaeron. Here, in the prince’s own kingdom, amidst Targaryen soldiers and in the company of Kingsguard, it might have seemed ridiculous to be so cautious, but Lira wasn’t the sort to get complacent. Brynden Tully went to fetch the Lord Commander, and Yohn stayed behind. She was glad for the young Kingsguard’s company.

[color=crimson]"How many would come to greet Vaeron Targaryen without the title, I wonder,"[/color] said the prince, though it seemed to no one in particular. 

[color=#e0b0ff]“Without the title? Couldn’t say,”[/color] she said, coming up beside him. [color=#e0b0ff]“But I doubt they get enough ‘Vaeron Targaryens’ up here to ignore you, title or no.”[/color][/indent]