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Chapter Text

Aegon the Dragon and Torrhen the Wolf met at the Trident, with the two men residing on opposite ends of the river as messengers sailed back and forth so the two could speak, as neither’s advisors recommended their king step into enemy grounds.¹

But when the hour of the nightingale came to an end, it is believed that King Torrhen Stark sailed across the Trident. With just his direwolf, Snowstorm, as a companion, the King in the North snuck across enemy lines to meet the Dragon King.

Little is known about what the two Kings discussed, though many do infer it has much to do with an alliance between the Targaryens of Dragonstone and the Starks of Winterfell. As the sun reached its peak, the two Kings came to an agreement that would be beneficial to both – one less war for Aegon the Dragon’s men and death by dragonfire avoided by the Torrhen the Wolf’s men.

Per the agreement, there were many concessions. Torrhen Stark would give up his title of King, but be renamed as the Ruling Prince of the North, with his successors taking the same title, while other members would simply be a Prince or Princess of the North – much like the Dornish have always done so. In return, the North would retain its laws, customs, culture, religion, and most importantly, its privacy. However, every ten years, the Dragon and the Wolf were to meet to reaffirm the oaths made on the Trident.

Most importantly, the two men agreed that should there ever be an unmarried Targaryen Crown Prince (or Crown Princess) and a Princess of the North (or Prince of the North) of a marriageable age, the two would wed to tie the blood of Old Valyria with the blood of the First Men.

They called it the Pact of Ice and Fire.²

1. Though the letters are long lost, the journals of Lord Brandon Snow, the bastard brother of King Torrhen Stark, reveal parts of what the two men talked about. Brandon speaks of ice and fire and the Wall in the North. The journals of King Torrhen are also said to corroborate the information found in Brandon Snow’s journals, but the Starks of Winterfell keep the journals of the former Kings of Winter and now Ruling Princes private, unlike the journals of other significant members of the family, like Lord Brandon Snow or Prince Brandon Stark, the brother of Princess Lyanna Targaryen, nee Stark.
2. The Pact of Ice and Fire remained a secret, only known to House Targaryen and House Stark for many decades. The original document now resides in the Library of Winterfell and is available for viewing under the strictest of eyes. Copies of the Pact are readily available in most books that concern the Conquest, Maegor the Cruel, Torrhen Stark, Jaehaerys the Conciliator, and Baelon the Brave.

Excerpt from The Pact of Ice and Fire: Aegon the Dragon and Torrhen the Wolf by Scholar Vyman Seastorm, 279 AC

The Red Keep – Jaehaerys

In a matter of moments, everything had changed for their family.

Aemon was dead, Baelon was heir, and there were difficult decisions that needed to be made.

It was not a decision that Jaehaerys had made lightly, nor one that he had ever wanted to make. But for the safety of their house and legacy, it was a decision he had to make. Even if it angered his beloved wife, Alysanne, and his granddaughter Rhaenys, the only child of his beloved son, Aemon.

To hopefully convince his wife to see why the decision was important, he asks to have a private dinner with just her. Rhaenys, he knew, would need more time to calm down before he could explain it to her, and Rhaenys’ husband would need even more time. Jocelyn, perhaps, would be able to understand his reasoning as Aemon would have. But that was a matter for much later; for now, she was residing on Driftmark to care for her daughter and soon-to-be-born grandchild.

“There was no other choice,” Jaehaerys tells Alysanne as she continues to ignore him as she cuts the meat on her plate.

“There is always a choice,” she retorts, finally gracing him with her voice.

“Our spies in the North reveal that Prince Edric is courting the Martells. He intends to marry his only daughter to the Martell heir. There is no choice left in this matter. Not if we wish to keep the North as part of our domain. The North continues to distance itself from the rest of the kingdoms – a Stark hasn’t been present in King’s Landing for decades now. The North’s anger hasn’t lessened since the death of Sanna Stark, only grown in fervor after the New Gift,” he says. The North had always been more distant than other kingdoms, but never as much as they were currently. Rarely was there word of a Northern Lord trekking south these days.

“You mean to enact the Pact,” Alysanna whispers. The Pact had not been enacted since the time of their uncle Maegor, when he forcefully took to wife Edric Stark’s aunt Sanna, and all that remained of her by the end of Maegor’s reign was a brutalized body and a half-formed babe. Their sister Rhaena, to prevent the Starks from truly experiencing the horrors that had been done to their beloved princess, had given both mother and babe a Targaryen funeral by burning their pyres with Dreamfyre’s dragonfire. Despite her good intentions, the Starks and North had been angered by their princess not being given a Northern burial and condemning her to fire when ice flowed in her veins.

“They cannot say no unless they wish to become oathbreakers,” Jaehaerys sighs. He would prefer not to force the Starks into agreeing to the marriage, but he doubts Edric would willingly marry his daughter to a Targaryen after everything that had occurred during the reign of Maegor, when Edric was just a babe. The North had a long memory, and Jaehaerys doubted any of them had forgotten what Maegor did.

“Baelon will not like it,” Alysanne states. Baelon’s sentiments on remarrying after Alyssa’s death had remained clear despite how long it had been and who had tried to take the coveted position of Baelon’s wife. Not even Viserra, their most beautiful daughter, had been capable of getting Baelon to stray from the memory of Alyssa despite her many efforts. There weren’t even rumors of Baelon cavorting with whores on the Street of Silk or widowed ladies of the court.

“He will do his duty,” Jaehaerys replies. His second son – technically his third son, but Aegon had not lived more than three days – was dutiful and would understand the necessity of bringing the North back into the fold after Maegor’s cruelties. They could not allow the North to become rebellious and tie itself to the Dornish. If the North broke from the Kingdoms, what would prevent others from thinking they could do the same? How long would it be before the Ironborn tried to declare their independence and ravaged the Riverlands, or the Lannisters of Casterly Rock wanted to be Kings once more? If one fell, then they all would fall.

The Red Keep – Baelon

Baelon did not want to be the heir.

His place was always meant to be the protector of his elder brother, Aemon, to be the sword that would protect Aemon from those who sought to sow discord in their family. But Aemon was dead, and their father had passed over Aemon’s only daughter for him.

No amount of apologies to Rhaenys or begging his father had changed the outcome. Now he mourned the loss of his beloved brother and suffered the anger of his darling niece.

Baelon was heir, and one day he would ascend to the Iron Throne.

“You wanted to speak, father,” Baelon says when he enters his father’s chambers. To his surprise, his mother is sitting there with a grim look as she wrings her hands. It was no secret to the court that the Queen had kept her distance from the King once the announcements about Baelon as the heir had been made. In truth, much of the royal family had kept their distance from the King following the announcements – partially due to their private mourning of Aemon, partially due to the unfairness of the entire situation.

“Sit,” his father orders. The Jaehaerys Targaryen he sees sitting before him is different from the man he had seen as a child. The loss of a child after the child had hit him just as much as it had hit his mother. But the loss of Aemon had hurt all of them the most. Aemon, for so long, had been the pillar of their family. The good son, the strong and worthy heir, the loving brother, and so much more. Now he was gone, and all of them were floundering to fill the roles he once had and seeking to find something akin to his love from other sources.

“I know that you have been against becoming heir while Rhaenys lives,” his father begins, glancing down at the parchment in front of him. Baelon cannot see what’s written on it from where he sits. “But it needed to be done if we wish to preserve the peace and continue reigning over the seven kingdoms,” he says.

“How so? Surely the thought of a dragon-riding woman would not cause the realm to fall into disarray,” Baelon retorts. Aemon and Jocelyn had prepared Rhaenys better than most men prepare their sons for ruling. The Conqueror’s Queens, Rhaenys and Visenya, ruled the Kingdoms more than Aegon ever had. Even his own grandmother, Alyssa Velaryon, had ruled as regent during his father’s early reign.

“Rhaenys would have made a fine queen, but she is married,” Jaehaerys replies. “Corlys’ ambitions are known, and while I wonder if he would’ve taken to being consort, it is not the fact that she married him that is the problem, but just that she is married,” he continues.

“What your father means to say is that you being unwed better suits the prospect of us retaining the peace we have enjoyed thus far,” his mother says. If he was confused before, he was even more confused now. How would his being unwed be for the betterment of the realm? Had they not been the same ones telling him that the realm needs a Queen for the things that a King cannot do?

“We have received reliable correspondence from the North regarding Prince Edric’s efforts to betroth his only daughter to the Prince Morion Martell’s heir. That alone would be cause for concern; however, other factors, such as the lack of trade and travel from the North, have forced us to act with haste,” Jaehaerys explains. “They continue to distance themselves from the rest of the kingdoms while there are rumblings of declaring independence after the death of Sanna Stark and the New Gift. While it is just rumors now, continued distance makes it more feasible. I mean to enact the Pact of Ice and Fire to bring them back into the fold,” he tells him.

“You can’t possibly mean-,” Baelon begins, “I said I would not marry after Alyssa.” He had strayed true to the sentiment; not even Viserra naked in his bed had changed that.

“If there was any other path, I would have taken it. But Viserys is in an ironclad betrothal to Aemma, and the Starks will not settle for anyone less than the heir, not after Maegor,” Jaehaerys says.

“I do wish there was another option, my dear, but losing the North would be detrimental to everything Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys fought for,” Alysanne says, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“I will do my duty,” Baelon sighs. If he had any intention of being half as good as Aemon had been, he would take to wife the Stark Princess. Though he would make no promises of love.

Chapter Text

The North’s memory is long, but when Jaehaerys I asked to have his son and heir, Baelon, wed to Prince Edric Stark’s only daughter, Lyanna, the North did not need to remember too far into the past. For only a few decades earlier, Maegor the Cruel had forcibly wed Princess Sanna Stark – the beloved aunt of Prince Edric – after her husband Lord Bennard Karstark died.¹ Now it is known that Maegor had enacted the Pact of Ice and Fire when Sanna and her father, Prince Alaric, originally refused the match as Sanna was regent of Karhold for her eldest son, Willem.

The memory of Sanna Stark’s brutalization by a Targaryen king remained at the forefront of the North’s long memory for decades to come.² When Jaehaerys I enacted the Pact, the North was angered, but it is said none were more angered than the Karstarks, who had the blood of Sanna Stark.³

1. Princess Sanna and Lord Bennard wed when Sanna was just a girl of six and ten. The pair was a love match by all records of the time, such as the journals of Princess Sanna and the preserved letters between Sanna and her brother, Prince Jon. The pair had three sons – Willem, Jon, and Benjen – within the first nine years of their marriage. In the tenth year, Bennard passed away in his sleep, and Maegor I had his eyes set on Sanna Stark as one of his Black Brides.
2. According to records, Princess Sanna’s body was littered with bruises when Maegor was too rough with his pretty Northern Princess, her bones fragile from not properly healing, her eyes sunken and always red-rimmed, and her direwolf killed when the loyal companion tried to stop Maegor from hurting her mistress. Before the end of Maegor’s reign, as Jaehaerys I shored up his support. Princess Sanna gave birth to Maegor’s half-formed child, but she did not survive childbirth. Rumors say that when Rhaena Targaryen found the body of her fellow Black Bride, mother and child were still connected by the cord. To read more about Sanna Stark’s time as one of Maegor’s Black Brides, read “The Black Brides of Maegor the Cruel” by Maester Alistar Wolke, 121 AC
3. Lord Willem Karstark was still the Lord of Karhold when Jaehaerys I enacted the Pact. His younger brother, Lord Jon, had passed just two years prior due to a hunting accident. Benjen, the youngest of the three Karstark brothers, had given up his noble titles and joined the Night’s Watch, but had voiced his complaints through letters to his brother and Stark kin when the news reached Castle Black. The letters of the Three Karstark Brothers reside in Karhold’s private library, but copies can be found in the Library of Winterfell.

Excerpt from The Tumultuous Bonds Between Starks and Targaryens by William Stokeworth, 239 AC

The Godswood of Winterfell – Edric

The betrothal contract with the Martells was nearly signed when the raven from King’s Landing arrived. Never before was ‘dark wings, dark words’ truer than in that moment.

News of Prince Baelon as heir and Prince of Dragonstone had arrived just a few moons ago – news that had urged Edric to intensify his efforts to have his darling daughter set in a betrothal that not even a pact from the time of Torrhen the Wolf and Aegon the Dragon could break. When the Martells had sent an envoy to talk of a match – an alliance went unsaid as grievances with the dragons were whispered – Edric had seen it as the sign it was.

His sweet Lya would marry Olyvar Martell and be his consort when Morion’s rule came to an end. His grandchild would be the Ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne, and his daughter would be safe from the machinations of dragons. However, such alliances and betrothal contracts took time to negotiate, time that he now knew they did not have.

Baelon Targaryen was heir now, and he had been a widower for years now. Jaehaerys, perhaps seeing the signs, had demanded a Stark Princess for his last eligible son. He hadn’t demanded it with the threat of dragonfire as Maegor had done so years ago, but he had been heavy-handed in his mention of oaths and keeping them.

“Protect my daughter, I beg,” he prays to the Old Gods as he kneels before the weirwood tree, hoping that they will listen to him. His aunt was not protected from the desires and destruction of a dragon, but still, he prayed that the Gods would be kinder this time around.

The footsteps of his children arriving cause Edric to stand up and turn towards them. Ellard, Brandon, and Lyanna walk in step with one another. The three eldest of his five children are as close as siblings can be. The youngest two, Rodrik and William, were much too young for the discussions they were about to have and were in the company of his wife, Serena, as she prepared everything for their eventual trip to King’s Landing.

“You called, Father?” Lyanna questions, standing between her two brothers as their direwolves tussle behind them, nipping at one another’s tails and chasing one another.

“A raven arrived from King’s Landing,” he says, his gaze falls to Lyanna. His sweet girl, who, despite their best intentions, would soon become the center of a political decision. None of his children are stupid and unable to put two things together.

“Prince Viserys is betrothed to Lady Aemma Arryn; their wedding is already set to be in a little over a year,” Brandon says, his hand reaching over to take Lyanna’s hand in his own – a habit of the twins whenever troubling news was shared.

“They do not mean- he is closer in age to you than he is to Lya, father,” Ellard says, eyes narrowing as Edric sighs and nods.

“Prince Baelon is the King’s heir and has been widowed since Princess Alyssa’s death. Lya is not yet wed, and betrothal talks with the Martells were not finalized. The King saw an opportunity and he has taken it, regardless of what we may wish,” Edric tells them. They may be Princes of the North with an ancestry that can be easily traced back to the time of Brandon the Builder, but none of that mattered in the face of dragons. They had been lucky, luckier than the rest of their fellow kings and queens. Aegon the Dragon had dreamt the same nightmares that instilled a sense of duty in every Stark, and thus they had retained some sense of sovereignty.

“When am I to wed?” Lyanna asks, accepting her fate to be the bride of a Targaryen Prince.

His darling daughter had gotten the best features from him and Serena. Her beauty, despite the isolationist tendencies of their people, was talked about in all seven kingdoms and some places in Essos. He had denied proposal after proposal her hand, and now he regretted doing so – well, only partially, as he had always wanted the best for her. Now she would be Queen one day, but her safety would always remain precarious.

The Great Keep of Winterfell – Lyanna

Winterfell was a bustle of activity as nobles and commonfolk alike gathered within the walls of the Great Keep to prepare for the journey south. They could have had longer to prepare if they had taken the ships from White Harbor, but Lyanna had spoken against it.

The memory of her Great Aunt Sanna at the forefront of her mind as she told her father’s advisors why they should travel on foot through the Riverlands and the Crownlands. The people of the North already loved her for she was their Princess, but those in the South had only heard rumors of her beauty, nothing more. If she were to survive, she needed to be seen by everyone and to be loved by everyone.

“We could always run away,” Harrion says, her kin many times over, but most recently through her Great Aunt Sanna. “It is not uncommon for cousins of our noble birth to fall in love and make matches against the wishes of those older than us,” he continues, “we would not be the first nobles to run away.”

“We would bring the dragon’s wrath,” Lyanna sighs as she leans her head on Harrion’s shoulder. Perhaps in her girlhood, she had once thought of marrying Harrion and becoming the Lady of Karhold after her second cousin Willem and Harrion’s father Rikard passed away. But those were the dreams of a girl who wanted to explore the world and be with her dearest friend forever. “And break an oath that stands for much more than my freedom to not wed a Targaryen,” she says.

“Then allow me to join you in King’s Landing as your sworn sword,” Harrion states.

“You have duties here in the North, Karhold-”

“My grandfather yet lives, and he will possibly outlive all of us,” Harrion cuts her off as Lyanna laughs. Willem Karhold was a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be, and she had no doubt he would live forever if he could force the Gods to allow such a thing. “And my father will be Lord of Karhold before I am ever to hold that title. My duties are minimal in comparison to many heirs of noble birth. As a son of the North and the great-grandson of Princess Sanna Stark, my greatest duty is to protect the Princess of the North from the dragons in that cesspool of a capital.” Lyanna knows that there is no stopping Harrion from his desire to protect her, just as she knows Ellard and Brandon will insist that Brandon remain in King’s Landing with her.

“I suppose Cousin Willem will like that the Southerners will be haunted by the blood of Sanna Stark and what happened to her,” she agrees as the two laugh together while all around them people rush to make their final preparations.

“I will not be the only son or daughter of the North who will remain in King’s Landing when our families leave,” Harrion says, “the North remembers, and this time around they won’t see another Princess dead.”

Lyanna had hoped for it; she would need all the allies and companions.

Chapter Text

Though the north is largely not arable, the rarest and most beautiful flower in Westeros blooms only in the lands of Winterfell.¹

The aptly named winter rose, a pale blue flower the color of frost, can be found blooming during even the harshest of winters in the North as balls of ice rain down. But the winter rose withers in the fertile fields of the Reach and Highgarden. Many Gardener Kings and Tyrell Lords over the years have attempted to grow the rarest rose in their own gardens, but all of it for naught, as the rose never does grow in the warmth.

The winter roses quickly became a symbol for the daughters of House Stark, for they bloomed as beautifully as the winter rose did. Legends of Bael the Bard, spoken by the free folk, add to the comparison.²

In stories told by the free folk, Bael the Bard climbed the Wall and traveled to Winterfell, where he pretended to be a singer by the name of Sygerrik of Skagos. He supposedly sang until midnight for Brandon Stark.³ Impressed by the singing, Brandon allowed Bael to ask for a reward. For his reward, Bael asked to have the prettiest flower blooming in Winterfell, to which Brandon gifted a single winter rose that had just bloomed. In the morning, Brandon’s only daughter was missing, and the winter rose rested on her untouched bed. The free folk recall this as the moment Stark Princesses were compared to the winter roses that grew in Winterfell.

1. Other houses of the North have attempted to grow their own winter roses in their gardens and glass houses, but never do they bloom as frosty blue as the ones in Winterfell. Some believe that the Starks give subpar winter rose seeds to their vassals for what the rose represents to the ruling family, while others argue that Winterfell was blessed by the magicks of the Old Gods and Children of the Forest, which is what allows for the winter roses to bloom. See Chapter Two for the myths of origin.
2. The legends must be taken with a grain of salt as they are riddled with inconsistencies. Rhaella Umber’s highly regarded book “Legends of the North: Uncovered” features a chapter on Bael the Bard and why many south of the Wall believe it to be a fictitious story.
3. It is near impossible to know which Brandon Stark was involved in Bael the Bard’s legend, as there have been countless Brandons who ruled the North and hundreds more who were born second, third, fourth, and so on. However, in “Legends of the North: Uncovered,” Rhaella Umber points out key plot points that would make one suspect it was a Brandon after the reign of Jaehaerys I. However, letters between Prince Daemon and his cousin Princess Rhaenys state that Daemon Targaryen’s Stark stepmother, Lyanna, often spoke about Bael the Bard and the legend surrounding Brandon the Daughterless as an event that occurred many, many years in the past.

Excerpt from The Winter Roses of the North: Blooms and Stark Princesses by Lady Alys Cerwyn, 360 AC

Crossroads Inn – Lyanna

The Crossroads Inn had been the natural stopping point for them to rest and review the final segment of their journey to King’s Landing. Since there were not enough rooms for all members of the Northern host, most had set up camp in the surrounding fields. Lyanna, as well as her mother and a few of the high-born ladies, were able to secure rooms in the Inn.

Though Lyanna had no qualms with camping – they often had to do so when traveling about the North – she did consider it a relief that there would be a proper bed and bath for her as her marriage loomed closer. “The smallfolk whisper,” her mother, Serena, says as she runs a comb through her hair. Once Lady Serena Manderly, she was now Princess Serena Stark and had been for over twenty years.

“Do they?” Lyanna inquires, looking through the mirror to meet her mother’s eyes.

“They say that the Princess of Winter leaves a trail of winter roses and coins in her wake,” Serena says. “They speak of a beautiful Princess who will one day become their Queen. Whispers that I am sure will reach the Red Keep long before we do,” she continues.

“They must love me,” Lyanna states. She remained resolute in her belief that the key to survival was the smallfolk. Luckily for her, it was a sentiment that was greatly shared by her family and the northerners loyal to them. While the smallfolk whispered about the Starks of Winterfell, the people of the North talked about how the Starks cared for everyone under their dominion – from the wealthiest lords like the Manderlys and Boltons to the poorest of smallfolk.

“They will,” Serena says.

“Will my husband love me?” Lyanna questions. Everyone had heard the stories, and none knew them as well as the Manderlys did. “Or even bed me?” Baelon Targaryen had not bedded his naked sister Viserra when he found her in his bed, nor did he have any rumored lovers. For all intents and purposes, it was believed that the Spring Prince had become celibate after his sister-wife died giving birth to their third son.

“If he knows what is good for his family’s reign, he will bed you,” Serena answers. An unconsummated marriage gave her family more power to seek an annulment and further the distance from House Targaryen, as her father had wanted before Prince Aemon died and Prince Baelon was named heir. “Love is complicated. He may never love you, and you may never love him, but both of you will love your children. And for many, that is enough. Though I do hope you will have more than that.”

Lyanna was not unaware of her station or her lot in life. She was born a Princess with no sisters. She was always set to marry someone of a similar or higher rank than her. She was always going to be married as a result of some political decision. Even if she had married Olyvar, it would have been on the precipice of the North rebelling against the Targaryens with Dorne’s full support.

Dragonstone – Baelon

Acceptance and plans of coming to King’s Landing from the Starks had arrived soon after his parents told him about his upcoming nuptials. As had word from the other houses that his father had called to the city for their wedding. The court would be packed to the brim as lords all across Westeros brought their families to witness the marriage of the Targaryen Prince and Stark Princess. There had even been a letter from the Martells, not to say that they would attend the wedding festivities, but to send their congratulations and game well played.

With preparations in full force, Baelon had taken his sons to Dragonstone so they may learn of their soon-to-be stepmother from him and not the gossiping maids who worked in the castle.

Viserys and Daemon, the last pieces of his beloved Alyssa, were only a few years younger than his soon-to-be wife. Viserys, if he was counting correctly, was a little more than a year younger than Lyanna Stark. Hells, he was only a handful of years younger than his soon-to-be good father.

Daemon’s anger at the wedding had only been tripled when he learned it was not to a woman of their blood or Valyrian in any sense, but some ‘northern chit.’ Viserys had not been angry, but he had also not shown any happiness or acceptance of the upcoming wedding. Unlike Daemon, Viserys remembered Alyssa, and the thought of someone taking Alyssa’s place, even years after her death, did not sit well with him. But Baelon was sure that his eldest would not be openly hostile to the Stark girl, though he could not say the same about his youngest.

“Why must you marry her?” Daemon questions once more. “You did not marry Aunt Viserra.”

“We have a pact with the Starks made by the Conqueror himself. And there are too many hurts between our families due to Maegor; we must right them before the North fully closes itself off to the realm,” Baelon replies. Daemon, as his second-born, will never know of Aegon’s Dream and why maintaining the Pact was of the utmost importance, but he would understand lessening hurts and differences after Maegor’s reign. The wounds couldn’t be allowed to fester. At least there still lived people who remembered the oaths taken during the Conquest.

“Would it not anger them further? That another Stark girl is married to a dragon rider? Especially so soon after everything,” Daemon asks. He is correct, Baelon is sure that the Starks and Northmen are angered by what they were forced to agree to due to long-standing pacts.

“Most likely they will be. But never has there been a Stark who broke his oath,” Baelon answers. “They are a loyal people, but to have their continued loyalty, we must keep our ties to them close. While they are loyal, they are also an isolationist group. Their isolationism will hopefully lessen once a daughter of the North resides in the South,” he explains. Aegon the Conqueror had seen the importance of allying himself with the North, not completely conquering them, for a reason.

“She will never be muña,” Daemon states before sauntering off towards his chambers.

The Red Keep — Jaehaerys

After a fortnight on Dragonstone, Baelon had returned with his sons — neither one happy with the situation, but where Viserys retreated into his histories and models, Daemon’s dismay at the whole thing was visibly present for all to see.

Along with his son’s return, many nobles had also begun to arrive for the upcoming wedding. Or, well, the wedding feast, in a very clear and uncompromising raven, his soon-to-be good daughter had stated she would marry under the Old Gods or the Fourteen Flames. Sooner she would jump from the highest tower than be made to wed under the Andal gods, who, in her words, “led to the destruction of sacred trees and have no place in the wedding of a Daughter of the North.” Underneath the words of his daughter, Edric Stark wrote that a ceremony conducted by a Septon would not be seen as legitimate by his bannermen and would be a slight against the North’s culture, directly in opposition to the Pact that led to this wedding. A fair point that neither he nor Alysanne had thought of when beginning the wedding preparations. But it was an easy change to make and a change that saved them plenty of money.

“They’re a proud people,” Barth states, chuckling as he reads the words of Princess Lyanna Stark and Prince Edric Stark. “It would assuage some of the hurt from Queen Sanna’s death if Prince Baelon remarried in a northern ceremony for his northern bride.

“Indeed,” Jaehaerys agrees as he grabs another missive that had arrived. “The people talk of the Princess, how she is a beauty unlike any other, how a direwolf the size of a pony sleeps in her bed, how she wears crowns of winter roses and has eyes the color of House Stark’s sigil. They speak of disgruntled northerners forced to wed another Princess to a dragon, but are generous with their renowned roses and luxurious pelts, all the while coins flow freely and the ale never ends,” he reads.

“Had they come by ship, they would have been here already to take part in the wedding preparation,” Barth notes, “but what greater preparation is there than ensuring that the commonfolk see their future Queen?

____

Alysanne is by his side and Baelon on the other as the three of them welcome nobles and wealthy merchants to the Red Keep for the festivities.

The Northerners remain at least an hour away, and as such, everyone who is not of the North or has not seen the Northerners in the Riverlands wants to secure their place in the throne room to witness the elusive Starks and their bannermen arrive.

Outside the walls of the Red Keep, the smallfolk gather in the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of their future Queen and have a chance at some of the coin or pelts that the Northmen give freely. Winter will be upon them sooner than later, and everyone knows nothing is as warm as a pelt made in the harsh North.

“Welcome, Lord Hightower,” Jaehaerys says, nodding at the Lord of Oldtown and his two sons. Behind them stand five women — supposedly their wives, sisters, or daughters. Jaehaerys did not know, and the steward making announcements had just said family in reference to them.

“This, I believe, is the worst part of being king,” Baelon grumbles, having long grown tired of standing there and smiling at the many nobles who graced their city.

His son only stood straight and focused on their guests fully when the steward began to announce the Northmen.

The Hornwoods, Cerwyns, Boltons, Umbers, Flints, and Glovers came in quick succession after one another. A few members from each house came before the Iron Throne and gave perfunctory bows and curtsies — nothing more and nothing less than what propriety dictated.

Then came the Manderlys — kin to the Starks through marriage. Theomore Manderly, Jaehaerys knew, was dead, and now his eldest son, Theon, was the Lord of White Harbor.

“Lord Theon Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, Warden of the White Knife, Grandfather to Princess Lyanna Stark, the betrothed of Prince Baelon Targaryen. Accompanied by his son and heir, Lord Desmond Manderly, uncle of Princess Lyanna Stark, and his wife, Lady Alys Karstark, grandmother to Princess Lyanna Stark,” the steward announced as the three Manderlys walked down the aisle.

“Sanna did not give birth to a daughter, did she?” Alysanne whispers, wondering if the woman making her way to them is a child of Sanna Stark or not.

They did not have to wonder about the next group of Northerners. Everyone knew that they descended from the line of Sanna Stark and held resentment towards all Targaryens.

“Lord Willem Karstark, Lord of Karhold, eldest son of Princess Sanna Stark. Accompanied by his son and heir, Lord Rickard Karstark and his wife Lady Sara Umber; his grandchildren — Lord Harrion Karstark, Lady Margaret Karstark, Lady Lysara Karstark, and Lord Beron Karstark,” the steward’s voice rang out as nobles of the other kingdoms watched with bated breath.

Thankfully, Willem Karstark did not do much, only glare at Baelon. He did say something in a language that Jaehaerys did not understand, but the Karstarks and many of the Northerners present seemed to understand well enough.

At last, the Starks of Winterfell were announced.

“Ruling Prince Edric Stark, the Prince of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and his wife, Princess Serena Stark, formerly Manderly, parents to Princess Lyanna Stark, the betrothed of Prince Baelon Targaryen,” the steward announced as the two heads of House Stark walked in. “The Princes and Princess of Winter — Prince Ellard Stark, the heir apparent, Prince Brandon Stark, Princess Lyanna Stark, Prince Rodrik Stark, and Prince William Stark.”

The five Stark children walk side by side with Lyanna at the center, the eldest of her brothers standing on either side of her as the youngest two stand on their other sides. Despite wearing different shades of gray, the Starks look anything but bland.

“Welcome to King’s Landing, Prince Edric,” Jaehaerys says.

“It has been long since we last met,” Alysanne adds, having spent some time in the North during one of her royal processions after they became King and Queen. Edric had not been the Ruling Prince then, but had recently married a Manderly.

“Aye,” Edric agrees, “but it seems that will not be the case much longer.” He turns around and holds out his hand for his daughter, “My daughter, the pride of the North and a true Princess of Winter, Princess Lyanna, your graces,” he introduces her.

Chapter Text

Despite all the reforms, they do not walk amongst the people. What good is a water fountain if people are afraid to utilize it at all times? What good are any of their efforts if they do not listen to the needs of the people?

Excerpt from The Letters of Lyanna Targaryen. Written by Lyanna to her eldest brother, Ellard Stark, a few months after her wedding to Baelon Targaryen in 93 AC.

The Red Keep — Lyanna

They had been given a set of apartments close to the Red Keep Godswood — though it was just a heart tree in a garden, not a true Godswood like the ones found in the North. Nonetheless, she had been thankful for the proximity.

“I would like to pray alone,” she tells her brothers, Ellard and Brandon, as they are the ones who have not left her side since they entered the city gates. It was only when they went to bed the previous night that her two elder brothers deemed it okay to leave her alone.

“Go,” her mother says, holding off Ellard and Brandon’s desire to follow her. With a thankful smile, Lyanna leaves the guest apartments and heads towards the Godswood.

When she enters the Godswood, Lyanna is surprised to see a silver-haired man standing there. Before she can leave, he turns around, and she is face-to-face with her soon-to-be husband, Prince Baelon. “Apologies, your grace, I did not-“

“All is well, Princess Lyanna,” he says, stopping her apologies for disturbing him. “I was simply familiarizing myself with our wedding altar,” he says, “have you come to pray?”

“Pray and find some semblance of peace from my recently very overbearing brothers,” she says, kneeling before the weirwood tree and motioning for him to do the same. Glancing over at the man next to her, she takes in his light features — fair skin, silver hair, and lilac eyes. He is handsome, though not shallow; it does make things easier. If they would not be in love, at least she could appreciate that her husband was a handsome man.

They sit there silently for a few minutes as Lyanna does her prayers. “Have you been to a northern ceremony before, your grace?” She inquires. They were not commonplace outside the North. While some smallfolk in the Riverlands and Vale still conducted ceremonies in front of the Old Gods, nobles tended to get married in Septs.

“They remain largely unfamiliar to me, unfortunately,” he replies.

“Perhaps, you should not say that you are unfamiliar with northern ceremonies in front of my father’s bannermen,” she advises. Though her father’s bannermen could assume that the Targaryens were unfamiliar with their customs, blatantly saying it would do no one any favors.

“They do not like me much, do they?” he questions with a sigh.

“It is not that they do not like you, specifically,” Lyanna says carefully. “It is just that the North’s memory is long and what happened to my great aunt was not very long ago,” she continues.

“How does a northern ceremony transpire? The Grand Maester did not seem to have much knowledge of it,” Baelon asks, changing the conversation before it could lead to any further discussion of Sanna Stark.

“Well, it is very simple. You would be waiting here with my grandfather or Cousin Willem, and my father would escort me. Then the identities of the bride, groom, and who is giving the bride away will be established, so the two of us and my father. By the ceremony leader, I will be asked to accept you as my husband, after which we kneel before the weirwood tree and pray. Once we rise, you remove my maiden cloak and replace it with the marriage cloak,” she explains. With the Karstarks being kin through their shared ancestor but also countless intermarriages and the many Manderlys being her maternal kin, Lyanna had attended her fair share of weddings in the North.

“Seems simple enough,” Baelon agrees, “and quick.” Lyanna laughs but nods her head. Weddings in the North were a quick affair as they were conducted outside, regardless of the season.

“Though you will have to carry me from here to the feast, and the Great Hall is a great distance from here,” she tells him.

“That will not be an arduous task,” Baelon replies. “The most arduous task, I believe, will be getting your father’s bannermen to not dislike me,” he adds.

With a laugh, Lyanna tells him, “Best Lord Umber in a fight, and they will respect you. Very few can best him in a one-on-one fight.”

“I do not think many men can take Lord Umber in a fight,” Baelon retorts. Lord Umber, like so many of House Umber, was large in stature.

The Red Keep — Baelon

He had spent his morning in the Godswood, conversing with his bride and learning of how their wedding would happen. He was thankful that it would be a short ceremony with only kin present. However, he did not know how to feel about being surrounded by Karstarks since they were about as closely wound to the Stark family tree as the Targaryen family tree was to itself.

“Stark, Karstark, it’s all the same to be fairly honest. The Karstarks were once Starks. Now, we’ve married one another for centuries, and the only difference remains who claims direwolves and the titles of royalty,” Lyanna had said.

She had left him alone in the Godswood when one of her elder brothers — Brandon, her twin — had arrived. They’d spoken in hushed whispers of a language he did not know before both siblings said their goodbyes and returned to the guest apartments.

He does not stay much longer in the Godswood, instead returning to his own apartments. Viserys had only just moved out of the apartments to his own set of chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast when Daemon, not one to be left behind, demanded that he, too, have his own chambers because he was a “man grown” despite being two and ten name days old. Jaehaerys and Alysanne had agreed to his demands when it became apparent that Baelon would remarry despite his youngest son’s ire.

There are servants in his apartments when he returns. “What is the meaning of this?” He inquires when he sees that they are clearing out a room that he’d never truly used.

“Queen Alysanne ordered that we prepare the Lady’s Bedchamber for Princess Lyanna, your grace,” one maid replies, “unless you wish to share a bedchamber with the Princess.”

He and Alyssa had never not shared a bedchamber once they married. He was sure she would’ve grievously harmed him for even suggesting that they sleep in separate beds. With a nod, he tells them to continue as they were. “I’m sure the Princess would like to have some privacy,” he tells them.

His bedchamber is as it has been since he moved in years ago. The only thing that changed was the loss of Alyssa’s things resting everywhere.

He can’t help but wonder what Lyanna expects to get out of this marriage. She had been perfectly kind and helpful during their conversation by the weirwood tree, and they had laughed and discussed their cultures. But the formality remained; she called him ‘your grace’ and he called her ‘Princess.’ He wondered if she expected love to eventually form or if she had resigned herself to a loveless marriage.

Chapter Text

I pray to the Gods — Old, New, Drowned, Dead, and all others that there may be — that the Silver Prince is not afraid of the fury of a she-wolf. For he will have two she-wolves in his bed soon enough.¹

1. Quote taken from the letter of Lady Lysara Mormont to Princess Serena in 93 AC, just before the wedding of Prince Baelon Targaryen and Princess Lyanna Stark. Lineage charts from White Harbor reveal that Lady Lysara Mormont was the younger sister of Princess Serena. It is unclear why Lady Mormont did not go to King’s Landing for her niece’s wedding, but two moons after the wedding, Lady Mormont’s eldest daughter was presented to the court as a lady in waiting for her royal cousin.

Excerpt from The Dragon and The Wolf: The Marriage of King Baelon I and Queen Lyanna by Scholar Wylla Lonmouth, 582 AC

The Queen’s Solar — Alysanne

For all that Alysanne had loved spending time in the North and learning about their culture during her royal progression, she never attended a wedding in the North. The first and perhaps the last would be that of her son, the only son she had left since Vaegon had been sent to the Citadel so he could become an archmaester.

Alysanne had given birth to thirteen children in her life, and all that she left with her were two – her Baelon and Gael. Vaegon and Saera, while still alive, were long lost to her and would probably never be seen by her eyes until they met in the afterlife.

Gael was in the company of Alysanne’s ladies, safe and working on the final details of the bridal cloak for Lyanna. Alysanne wanted it to be absolutely perfect and extravagant.

Baelon, her sweet Baelon, sat in front of her. From the whispers she’d heard, Baelon had been spending his mornings with Lyanna in the Red Keep’s Godswood. Perfectly amicable, she’d been told their interactions were.

“How is Princess Lyanna?” Alysanne inquires as she pours Baelon’s favorite tea for them both. The Northerners had been good at keeping their Princess away from most of their family and the Small Council. Wedding preparations, they had said when questioned why the Princess was not oft seen at court the past few days.

“Lyanna is… different,” he says. “She retains the sense of formality between us, but does not shy from telling me that her father’s bannermen do not like our family very much,” he reveals. Baelon says that Lyanna retains the sense of formality, while he himself calls her by just her name and no titles. Perhaps her son is warming to the Northern Princess quicker than the Princess is.

She can understand why that would be the case – for Baelon, there are no ghosts he needs to compete with. Lyanna Stark was coming into this marriage as an unwed maiden who did not know anyone else. Whereas Lyanna had the ghost of Alyssa – Baelon’s beloved sister and wife, the mother of his two sons, and a fearsome dragonrider. Baelon had loved someone so deeply before that he had not taken another wife even when his prettiest sister offered herself up and had no rumors of sleeping with anyone else. Lyanna Stark had to compete with a dead woman whom she would always be second to.

She only hoped that Baelon would see that and reassure his young bride in some manner.

“She follows the Old Gods,” Alysanne says, though the Princess was rarely seen out and about; every morning, there was a sighting of her walking to the godswood.

“Yes, she has been telling me about them and our wedding,” Baelon says, a gentle smile forming on his lips as he most likely thinks about the mornings he has spent with her after she prayed. “I intend on asking Prince Edric about planting a weirwood tree on Dragonstone. While I do not intend on spending more than half a year at a time on Dragonstone, I do think she would like to have a place to pray to her gods when we are there,” he continues.

At least her son was considerate. Most men would not think to give their new wife a place to pray to her gods, not even the ones who loved their wives would think of such a simple matter.

“It will endear you to her family,” Alysanna tells him. It would go a long way with the Northerners and perhaps would lessen their fears about Lyanna’s safety.

The Stark Apartments in the Red Keep– Edric

His Lyanna, his only daughter, is dressed in a snow white gown embellished with pearls and diamonds, with her maiden cloak secured on her shoulders — a large howling direwolf at its center with six smaller direwolves and a merman chasing one another embroidered on the bottom edge of the cloak.

He had dreaded even imagining seeing her like this. What father wanted to see his daughter as a bride, knowing that soon she would no longer be his little girl and would be married to a man who could harm her? Despite his talks with the Martells, he hadn’t given much thought to being so far apart from his daughter. They would be weeks apart, if not months, and she could not just seek refuge in her childhood home should things go awry.

“You are the most beautiful bride to exist,” Edric tells her.

“I think every father tells his daughter that,” Lyanna retorts. Serena has given him four strong boys, more than any woman had borne for House Stark in recent years, but it was the daughter she gave him that made him the happiest. He had kept her safe in the wall of Winterfell for longer than most had expected — many of his own bannermen had expected him to marry her off when she’d had her first moon blood.

“All of their daughters pale in comparison to you,” Edric replies. “If this is not-“

“We must,” she cuts him off, “and I have made my peace with it. Prince Baelon is handsome and kind. If he is not, then he shall face Winter’s fury. She is quite protective of me.”

“He has a dragon,” Edric points out. As fearsome as his daughter’s beloved direwolf was, the Prince had a Conqueror’s dragon.

“Vhagar is large. She will not fit inside the castle. Winter sleeps in my bedchamber,” Lyanna points out. The pure white direwolf’s preferred resting place had always been at the side of her mistress. Even when both of them were little pups, Winter was wrought to be separated from Lyanna, just like the direwolves for his sons were. They were all cradle mates after all, forming bonds that weren’t as common in their house as many may think, despite centuries of bonding with direwolves. “And I shall have the protective swords of Brandon, Harrion, and countless others loyal to our house present in the Red Keep,” she says. To no one’s surprise, many second and third sons had offered their swords and taken their place as guards for Lyanna. Many daughters had also found a place in her household as ladies in waiting and companions. “If all else fails, Aunt Lysara did gift me a deadly, but small blade that could be hidden on my person at all times.”

“It assuages some of my fears, little wolf, but as your father, I shall worry for the rest of my days regardless,” he says as he holds out his arm for her to take. They will need to begin the walk to the Godswood, where the rest of their kin and the Targaryens are. His sons had taken the direwolves with them to be present, but Winter had remained by her mistress’s side.

The Red Keep’s Godswood — Jaehaerys

Looking around the Godswood, it was easy to see that there were more Starks and Stark kin than there were Targaryens and Targaryen kin.

Other than the few Manderlys, kin to Lyanna through her mother, the rest of the Northerners present had Stark blood in one manner or another. The numbers of his own family were few in comparison. He, Alysanne, Baelon, Gael, Rhaenys, Viserys, Daemon, and little Laena Velaryon were all that remained of recent Targaryen blood. Jocelyn, though not a Targaryen in blood, stood next to her daughter. Still dressed in her mourning colors, she didn’t look out of place amongst the Starks and their kin.

The Velaryons had some Targaryen blood in them, but before his granddaughter married the Sea Snake, it had been many years since a member of their house married a Velaryon. If he recalled his lineages correctly, then the last wedding of a Targaryen and Velaryon before Rhaenys and Corlys had been his parents.

Mayhaps his son’s marriage will not only bring the North closer but also increase the number of Targaryens left in the world.

Beside each of the Stark sons stood a direwolf, all of them varying in age and size just as the Starks did. The largest of the beasts stood by Princess Serena — the companion of Prince Edric, guarding his wife while the Prince escorted his only daughter.

Lord Willem Karstark stands by the weirwood tree near Baelon, while Willem’s children stand a few paces behind the Starks. The familial resemblance is recognizable in all of them after centuries of intermarriage.

They only need to stand there a few more moments before Edric and Lyanna arrive. They look every bit like the Northern royalty they are.

Lyanna’s gown of pure white and gray maiden cloak trails after her, catching fallen weirwood leaves, while a crown of metallic winter roses rests in her hair. Beside her walks Edric, dressed in a gray similar to Lyanna’s maiden cloak with a weirwood circlet on his brow, and a pure white direwolf.

“Who comes before the Gods?” Willem asks, his voice thundering in the silent Godswood.

“Lyanna of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods,” Edric says, “Who comes to claim her?”

Baelon steps forward, “I, Baelon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne, claim her. Who gives her?” Lyanna had informed Baelon on what needed to be said and how it needed to be said, or so Alysanne had told him. Supposedly, his son spent his mornings in this very spot with Lyanna.

“Edric of House Stark, who is her father and Prince of the North,” Edric says, letting go of Lyanna’s arm with a kiss on her forehead. Edric steps back to stand next to his wife and sons.

“Princess Lyanna, do you take this man to be your husband from now to the end of your days?” Willem asks.

With a slight nod of her head, Lyanna replies, “I take this man.” Baelon holds his left hand out, and Lyanna places her right hand in his. Hand in hand, the pair kneels before the weirwood trees.

From where Jaehaerys stands, he cannot see if their eyes are closed or if they whisper their prayers, but three minutes later, they are standing once more.

“Prince Baelon, now you may remove the maiden cloak and take Princess Lyanna under your protection,” Willem instructs. Gently letting go of Lyanna’s hand, Baelon removes the Stark cloak from Lyanna’s shoulders and hands it to Princess Serena. From Gael, he takes the Targaryen cloak and, with great flourish, places it around Lyanna’s shoulders.

“You may kiss your bride,” Willem states as Baelon bends his head just slightly and kisses Lyanna Stark, now of the House Targaryen.

Now he just needed Baelon to put a babe in her and pray that it lives — quashing any signs of a potential Northern rebellion and collusion with the Dornish.

Chapter Text

Long before the Doom of Valyria, Valyrians turned their attention to Westeros to build outposts and seek trade. While one such expedition led to the building of Dragonstone in Blackwater Bay, another led them to the White Knife. However, this second expedition was much less successful than that of Blackwater Bay.

Unlike the island now known as Dragonstone, the White Knife had staunch defenders in King Jon Stark and his army of ferocious Northmen. The northern forces were able to keep the Valyrian invaders at bay and defend the major port.¹

1. Stories on how the Valyrians were kept away from the shores of the North vary, with some believing that King Jon took to wife one of the female dragonriders. Their beliefs are substantiated by the public loss of journals from the reign of King Jon as well as the loss of lineage charts for his wife and Queen, Alys.

Excerpt from The Kings of Winter and the History of Wolf’s Den by Archmaester Samwell Tarly, 310 AC

The Throne Room — Lyanna

She was married. A wedded woman.

No longer was she just Princess Lyanna of the House Stark, a Princess of Winter, the only daughter of Prince Edric and Princess Serena.

Now she was Princess Lyanna Stark of the House Targaryen. A Princess of Winter, still, but also the Princess Consort of Dragonstone. The second wife of Prince Baelon and stepmother to his sons, Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon. One day, she would bear him more children and become his Queen Consort — a mother to not just her children, but all of the realm.

But much sooner than all of that, she would be bedded.

She had been wedded, and now they feasted; soon there would be calls for her to be bedded. For her blood to stain her new husband’s cock and bedsheets as she forsook the last piece of her that made her a maiden of House Stark. Soon, there would be men and women, old and young, straining their ears to hear as her husband took her and consummated the vows they’d spoken with just their kin in attendance.

A part of her wondered how many present in the hall had been there for Baelon’s first wedding — the wedding he had wanted to the sister he loved and chose. How many of them could recount every lewd noise, every exclamation of love and pleasure from that bedding? She wondered how many would compare her own bedding to the bedding of Princess Alyssa. How many would find her to be lacking, or if they would be able to tell that her own husband found her lacking in comparison to the sister he loved?

“Is everything okay?” Brandon asks in a low whisper, her twin always so attuned to her emotions. Brandon always knew when Lyanna would get lost in her thoughts and when she needed someone to nudge her out of them.

Lyanna gives him a nod and smiles, “Has Ellard danced with cousin Margaret, yet?” she inquires. It was an open secret that sooner than later, Margaret Karstark would marry Ellard Stark, continuing the centuries of Stark and Karstark marriages that could probably give the Valyrians competition.

“He has not danced with anyone except cousin Margaret and mother,” Brandon retorts, motioning towards their elder brother, who was laughing along with the eldest Karstark daughter as they danced around the center aisle with other couples. “Soon we may need to return to Winterfell for his wedding,” he adds.

“I cannot wait,” Lyanna replies as her attention turns to her husband. Baelon had been talking to his sons earlier, but now he was headed back towards her. She does not see either Viserys or Daemon in the throne room anymore; Lyanna presumes Baelon had sent them to bed, as sooner or later the bedding ceremony will be called for.

The Throne Room – Baelon

The expectation from his father was as clear as day – within the year, there should be a healthy babe born of Targaryen and Stark blood. To ensure that, the bedding ceremony would happen and the sheets would be presented before the Small Council.

Though he was not naive to the activities of his sons, he did not want them present when lords and ladies carried him and Lyanna to his apartments. So he sends them off to bed early with the promise of taking them both flying before he leaves for Dragonstone with Lyanna.

Speaking of his new wife, he looks over to the high table. After their first dance and a dance with her father, Lyanna returned to the high table. Brandon, her twin and seemingly her shadow, who never left her side, had moved seats to sit next to her. He often found the twins speaking to one another, whispering and laughing as they watched the guests.

When Ellard was not dancing with one of the Karstark girls, he could be found on Lyanna’s other side as the eldest Stark brothers made their only sister beam as bright as the sun. Though they had dark hair and gray eyes, for a moment, Baelon could see younger versions of himself, Aemon, and Alyssa. Two brothers and a sister, close as can be. He only hoped that Lyanna’s siblings did not end up like his own. He wouldn’t wish that loss upon his worst enemy, much less his wife.

As he heads over to Lyanna, it is just her and Brandon sitting there with Ellard, once more taking the Karstark girl for a dance around the hall. Mayhaps, he would be taking a trip North sooner rather than later.

“They will be calling for the bedding soon,” he informs her, knowing that it would be better if she were expecting the call instead of it being thrust upon her when she is unprepared. With a deep breath, Lyanna nods. Beside her, Brandon seems to take that as a cue to stand and head over to a group of northern heirs and second sons of a similar age to him.

“Will they just take us to the apartments? Or will they…” she trails off. The first kind of bedding is tolerable as long as those escorting them are honorable and don’t take undue liberties with the undressing. The second kind, however, is used in extreme cases or amongst the most devout – demanding that there be seven witnesses to watch as the groom takes his bride’s maidenhead and the sheet inspection be done right away.

“Just escorting,” Baelon says, not missing the sigh of relief from Lyanna. “The sheets will be taken to the Small Council in the morning,” he adds.

It does not take long for the lords to call for the bedding. The ladies of the court turn his attention towards him, but for Lyanna, the sons of the North prevent anyone not of the North from reaching her. There is loyalty among them. Loyalty and care for one another, a desire to protect and prevent outsiders from touching or harming those of their blood. As he’s being led away, he hears one of the Umbers say, “Ellard and Brandon would have our hands if anything untoward happened.”

Baelon’s Apartments – Lyanna

“Remember, even if he is a dragon, you are a she-wolf of the North,” Harrion whispers in her ear as they stand outside the doors of Baelon’s apartments. Her wedding gown and cloak are long gone, safely held by a Glover, and to be given to her mother so she may keep it safe until Lyanna has a chance to take it.

Nodding, Lyanna steps into the apartments. Baelon is yet to arrive, taking a longer route than her.

In just her chemise and jewels, Lyanna is cold and nervous. For all that her mother and other ladies of the North had prepared her, she doubts it would be enough when the time for Baelon to take her maidenhead came.

Baelon is handsome, and he is not a green boy. He’d been called a lusty lad during his younger years, so that surely meant he had to be experienced and would not intentionally harm her.

As Lyanna finishes reassuring herself that this night would not be awful, Baelon steps into the apartments. Other than his breeches, everything else is torn off. Handsome, indeed.

“Were they good to you?” Baelon inquires as she nods. Her father’s bannermen would not be anything but good to her. They respected him and, in turn, were loyal to her house. “That is good,” he mumbles, his eyes going from her to where she presumes his bedchambers are.

“We should…” she trails off. Baelon does not say anything in response, but he does guide her towards his bedchambers.

He doesn’t immediately take her to his bed, but instead takes off her jewels. There is gentleness in his actions.

She likes his gentleness.

As the last of her jewelry is taken off, Baelon’s lips place kisses along her neck, nipping and sucking as his hands take off her chemise, letting it pool around her feet on the floor.

With a practiced ease, Baelon picks her up while his lips remain attached to her bare skin as breathy moans escape her lips due to his ministrations.

In mere seconds, it seems like Baelon is lying her on his bed as his own body covers hers. The texture of his breeches rubs against her bare skin, but it is not as uncomfortable as one would think. His hardness presses against her leg as his hands trail over her skin. One hand cups her breast and teases it, while the other goes to the one place no other had ever touched, nor would touch.

She does not mind Baelon’s ministrations, Lyanna finds; rather, she welcomes it. For these are sensations she did not think existed. “Baelon,” she begs as he presses another finger into her cunt. She does not think of the how, but she knows that she wants more, that she wants to feel more and be completely encompassed by the sensations he’d been lavishing her with.

Her hands, which had previously grasped at Baelon’s back, now work on untying the laces that hold his breeches together. It is the last bit of clothing that separates their bodies from pressing against one another, and Lyanna wishes to change it quickly.

“It will hurt at first,” Baelon warns her, his lips finally leaving her own as he stares into her eyes.

“I trust that you won’t cruelly hurt me,” Lyanna replies, raising her head so they may kiss again.

Baelon’s Apartments — Baelon

Lyanna is beneath him, naked and wanting for him.

He has not had a woman naked and wanting for him in years now, not since Alyssa was taken from him, but Lyanna is different from Alyssa. Where Alyssa took what she wanted, Lyanna looked up to him in the hope that he would guide her and not harm her.

With the hand he’d used to fuck her cunt open, Baelon guides his cock so just the tip is breaching her folds. A sweet gasp escapes her lips at the slightest intrusion, making Baelon wonder about the sounds she’ll make when he’s completely sheathed in tight, wet heat.

Rocking in and out, he thrusts a little deeper each time until he meets the resistance of her maidenhead. One sharp thrust forward and he’ll have taken her maidenhead, despoiled her for any other, and tied them together for the rest of their lives with her blood staining his cock and sheets.

Lyanna lets out a sharp cry when his cock thrusts past her maidenhead. “This will be the worst of it,” he says in an attempt to reassure her as Lyanna nods despite the tears that well up in her eyes. Slowly and as gently as he can be, Baelon moves in and out, delighting when the whimpers turn into moans of pleasure. Such sweet noises does his wife make.

“More,” she begs, arching her body to be pressed closer to him. Her gray eyes are but a shade away from black as they stare at one another. Baelon increases his thrusts just a bit, but it is not until her nails drag down his back does he fuck her like he wants to.

He wonders if there are people outside who are straining their ears to hear his pretty northern wife’s pretty moans. A part of him wants to hoard them, keep them so only he can hear.

Lyanna reaches her peak with his name on her lips and a wolf’s howl echoing outside. Baelon is not too far behind her in reaching his peak and spilling inside of her.

He is truly married once more. No longer a widower, but a husband once again.

Chapter Text

Due to the vast nature of the North, the Starks of Winterfell built many castles throughout the kingdom where they could reside during their travels. However, all of these castles paled in comparison to Wolf Hall and the Winter Palace. Though both were originally built as part-time residences for House Stark, their purposes have changed significantly over time.

The Winter Palace is rumored to have been built around the time of Brandon the Builder, as its structure shares similarities with the Wall and Winterfell. Built north of the wall, the Winter Palace resides near hot springs but still has partial ice structures in its design (1). For many centuries, it was used as a residence for when the Starks and other representatives met with the free folk north of the Wall. However, for the past 500 years at least, the Winter Palace has been a summer residence and a site of many festivals for the Old Gods.

Wolf Hall was built many centuries after Winterfell, but it is no less impressive. A day’s ride away from Winterfell, Wolf Hall was once where many Starks would spend the moon following their weddings. But in 93 AC, under the edict of Prince Edric, that all changed.

1. Though ice and heat should not go together, the ice structures of the Winter Palace have remained intact with no breakage for thousands of years now — should its legend be believed.

Excerpt from The North and Its Castles by Scholar Rickon Manderly, 407 AC

Baelon’s Apartments — Baelon

Maids are fluttering around his bedchamber when he wakes up. Through the corner of his eye, he can see one taking the bloodied sheet and leaving the room, while others add more wood to the fire and open the curtains. They usually do not enter his bedchamber in the mornings, but he guesses that his father or mother had ordered them to do so. The council wanted the sheets for inspection and reassurance that Lyanna Stark was no longer a maiden but a woman wedded and bedded.

Thankfully, Lyanna is still asleep next to him. While she had put up no complaints during their couplings last night or spent the night beside him, he did not know how she would react to finding people she did not know in his bedchamber as soon as she opened her eyes.

“Leave us,” he commands, catching them by surprise. They leave with simple bows. Baelon knows that by midday, everyone will know that he had brought his new wife to his bedchamber and had slept with her in his arms.

As he ponders about courtly gossip, Lyanna shuffles even closer to him in her sleep, seeking warmth from him, and Baelon welcomes it. Not even the most chaste man could deny the comfort and pleasure of having a beautiful woman naked and pressed against their body. And Baelon Targaryen was far from chaste.

Though he does try not to think of their activities from the night before. Of taking Lyanna’s maidenhead and showing her the pleasure of being fucked. Of sucking and biting his mark onto her unblemished porcelain skin.

He is but a man, and as such, it takes very little for his cock to swell when thoughts of his wife run around his head. The thoughts of coupling with Lyanna are only broken by a knock on the bedchamber door, which happens to wake up Lyanna.

“Stay, I’ll handle this,” he whispers as he slowly extricates himself from her warm hold and puts on a robe that one of the maids had left. Though it does little to hide that he remains bare underneath the robe. At the door is one of his father’s pages, a boy from one of the Crownlands’ houses whose name Baelon cannot recall.

“Good morrow, your grace,” the boy says, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the ground.

“Good morrow,” Baelon replies.

“His grace, the King, has requested that your grace and Princess Lyanna join him and the rest of both your families to break your fast in an hour's time,” the boy says. With a nod, Baelon closes the door, and to his dismay, Lyanna is gingerly getting out of bed with her robe already on.

Shame, he would’ve liked to lie about for a bit longer. There will be plenty of time on Dragonstone for them to spend their mornings lazing about in bed.

The Red Keep — Lyanna

There is a door, she learns, that connects Baelon’s bedchamber to her bedchamber.

It had once been meant to be the bedchamber for Princess Alyssa Targaryen, but the door had been long forgotten about and hidden behind a set of drawers, as Baelon and Alyssa shared a bedchamber — not wanting to sleep in separate beds during their marriage. That is not to be the case with them. For all that Baelon had wanted her in his bed during their wedding night, it was not to be the case every night.

Baelon had moved the set of drawers in front of the door whilst telling her of the invitation — no order — to break their fasts with their families.

So she readies herself alone, ordering the maids to leave her once they have readied the bath. She could call upon her ladies, but with less than an hour before they are expected, it seems like a waste.

Donning a pale blue gown with silver beadwork and an almost sheer cape meant more for design than actual utility, Lyanna steps out of her new bedchamber at the same time as Baelon steps out from his bedchamber. He wears a black doublet and breeches with red embroidery.

They walk to the Queen’s Apartments in silence, neither of them knowing what to talk about now that they are not abed. When they reach the Queen’s Apartments and are guided to the dining room by one of her ladies, Lyanna is not surprised to see that they are the last to arrive.

She greets the King and Queen first, then Baelon’s sons, then his sister and niece’s family, and finally her own family. Lady Jocelyn is not breaking her fast with them, rather with her Baratheon family, before they are set to leave King’s Landing for Storm’s End. Brandon and Ellard, as they tend to do, make their way to her side while Baelon talks to the King. “Did he hurt you?” Brandon questions, using the Old Tongue so that no one but their family may understand, “I’ll end him here and now if he did.”

“No, your dreams of regicide can wait,” Lyann retorts.

“Shame,” Ellard states. Switching back to the Common Tongue, Ellard says, “Winter went hunting with the others.”

“I saw,” Lyanna replies. In the few hours she and Baelon had slept, she’d dreamed of her beloved Winter in the Kingswood with her brothers’ direwolves.

Their conversation is cut short by servants opening the doors to the family dining room in the Queen’s Apartments. In Winterfell, Lyanna would have sat between her two eldest brothers or at her mother’s side, but they are not in Winterfell, nor will she be in Winterfell for a good while. Her place is now at her husband’s side. Viserys and Daemon sit on one side of Baelon, while Lyanna takes a seat on the other.

Queen Alysanne’s Apartments — Alysanne

Baelon and Lyanna sit across from her and Jaehaerys. They are the future of their house, the King and the Queen after Jaehaerys and her. They make a good couple, a fine image of royalty – the silver-haired Prince and the dark-haired Princess.

“It brings me great joy that we can all have this meal together,” Alysanne says once Jaehaerys has made his toast to Baelon and Lyanna’s union. While he had spoken a little too much about uniting their two families, she supposes it was necessary. Though she would have advised a more subtle route, she is not the King. “And while I do not wish to take the place of your mother, I do hope we can have a close bond,” she continues.

“As do I, Your Grace,” Lyanna says, a small smile on her lips.

Her toast is not the last, as Edric stands up and looks directly at his only daughter. “I can still remember the first time I held Lyanna. My darling girl was crying, but in my arms, she quieted and stared up at me. From that day, I vowed that no matter what, she would have a place in my home. Regardless of who she married or where she married, Lyanna would always be welcome – a sentiment I am sure my sons share,” he says as the four Stark brothers nod in agreement. “As such, I want to gift Wolf Hall in perpetuity to be inherited by your eldest with Prince Baelon and be passed down from eldest to eldest. Winterfell will always be your home, but as your family grows, you should have a place of your own in the North, and your children shall have something to inherit,” he says.

“Oh, father!” Lyanna says, getting out of her seat to embrace her father. As father and daughter speak in hushed whispers, Alysanne turns her attention to her brother and husband.

The meaning behind Edric’s words are not lost on her or Jaehaerys, if the clenching of his fists is anything to go by. In a few simple words, Edric had done what they couldn’t promise for any children Lyanna bore and tied potential dragonriders to the North, where their loyalty would be to their Stark kin. All they had promised the children of Lyanna were titles and a place in court, but was that in the face of lands to inherit?

However, it is how he worded it that interests Alysanne the most.

Eldest, Edric had specifically said eldest when he talked of Lyanna’s children inheriting after her. The recent inheritance issues in House Targaryen had been due to the gender of their heirs.

“It is a most gracious gift, Prince Edric,” Baelon says.

“I only have the one daughter, I would have her and her children protected,” Edric says simply. Even if not meant as a slight against their family, Alysanne knows that should those words be repeated in court, then they would be taken as a slight. The daughters of House Targaryen had not lived long or had left.

“You will love Wolf Hall, while not as grand as Winter Palace or Winterfell, it is a most stunning castle,” Lyanna tells Baelon. “There is nothing but miles of open lands and woods around the castle. And it is but a day's ride from Winterfell and Winter Town,” she says.

“I look forward to seeing it, hopefully we can go sooner than later,” Baelon replies, eliciting a bright smile from his new wife. “Though, what is the Winter Palace? I do not think I know it,” he asks.

“It is a palace built just north of the Wall. Legends say Brandon the Builder made it as an outpost. We do not get to go often, but whenever the Night’s Watch requests help in dealing with the free folk, we stay there. There are parts made entirely of ice,” she explains.

“A Stark cousin remains there as castellan year-round, and the Night’s Watch stay there as well sometimes,” Serena adds. “It is an enchanting place, Edric and I spent a few moons after our wedding there and-”

“Please, mother, we can go without the story,” Ellard interrupts as each of the Stark children looks uncomfortable. Her curiosity is piqued as Alaric had never mentioned the palace when she visited the North during a progression, but she could always needle the stories out of her new good daughter. “Let us continue with the gifts for my dearest sister and her new husband,” he states, motioning to one of his younger brothers to bring forth a small chest that the Starks had brought with them.

“Indeed,” Edric says, “ours is a history long and storied; as such, our ancestors have collected vast treasures that remain unknown to many in the rest of Westeros, but are told as bedtime stories.”

Ellard opens the chest to reveal two glimmering eggs and a set of journals. But there were not any eggs, instead dragon eggs. Two dragon eggs that neither she nor Jaehaerys had ever seen before, and as far as she can tell, were not the same ones that Elissa Farman had stolen from their sister Rhaena.

“Dragon eggs? How?” Jaehaerys inquires.

“It is a long-kept secret of our history, only shared with a few who have access to the most secure vaults in Winterfell,” Serena says, taking one of the journals and handing it to them. When Jaehaerys opens the journal, the runic script of High Valyrian stares back at them.

Queen Alys Maelaerys of House Stark

“Valyrians once attempted to make an outpost on the shores of the White Knife, but King Jon was able to keep them at bay despite the dragons of House Maelaerys. He took to wife one of the daughters – a dragonrider of Valyria. Her dragon laid a clutch of eggs, but from all accounts, the eggs never hatched and were placed in the vaults once the eggs went cold to the touch,” Ellard continues for his mother. Not just any dragon eggs, but eggs from before the Doom. Even if they were nothing more than stones now, the origin made them invaluable.

“Tis a treasure I doubt many would part with,” Baelon says, picking up one of the eggs — an iridescent white with hints of silver. One egg alone could be worth millions in gold; not only were they something to brag about and show off, but they could fund generations. Yet the Starks had kept them hidden for countless generations, hiding away all records and knowledge of the union, until now.

“Tis simply an emblem of a Stark and Valyrian union that was successful and mayhaps be a token of luck for this union as well,” Edric states. “And Lya always did love the journals of Queen Alys the most,” he adds, his gaze falling to where Baelon and Lyanna sat. The dragon egg was now in Lyanna’s lap as Baelon held one of the journals between them.

A token of luck indeed.