Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Whispers Of Dragons And Betrothals

Aemond POV

Aemond enjoyed the northern breeze far more than he assumed he would. The air at the capital is soured with filth and shit. As if the political machinations of the court metastasized and brought the rot to the surface. But here over the wolfswood, it's almost as if the clear air purifies your being.

It's cold without reason of course. But as long as he keeps a safe distance from below, Vhagar can simply emit a small fire breath for warmth.

The past fortnight in what he pictured at first as a dreary castle at the end of the world was strangely pleasant. He sparred again with the lord of Winterfell many times during his stay His singular victory would be a source of shame under normal circumstances. He knows Aegon would never shut up if ever found out.

So much for mastering the blade at ten and four. Mother's golden child bested by a heathen. He could almost imagine his smug face. The drunken fool.

And the strong boys will have the time of their lives. He sensed their fear and weariness when he rode Vhagar back to King's Landing the day after Luke took his eye.

It brought a a small comfort to let them know just how royally they screwed up by making an enemy of the rider of the largest Dragon alive. Seeing him humbled by Cregan, a man who's never competed in any tourneys or duels will fool them into think Aemond is somhow lesser for his defeats.

But Aemond knows the truth. Cregan's fighting skill is on a whole different level. If the two ever found themselves on an actual battlefield, his chances of winning and those of any other warrior, except the Kinsguards, are slim to none.

There's at least one silver lining. He wouldn't worry about his sister's protection if anyone dared threaten her. Only from the ground though. Any enemies hurdling from the heavens will answer to him.

With the subject of Helaena's intended on his mind, the answer the man give in regards to their betrothal flashes back. Why the northman thought he has any grounds to add further stipulations is anyone's guess.

But the terms he offered are ones Aemond had found no problem with or thought long overdue, so he didn't argue too heartedly against them.

In exchange for his support he'd follow with the marriage pact but first he wanted to meet with Helaena and court her properly. They would have a better chance for a joyous union if they're friends or at least acquainted before they stood before the heart tree.

That was the second condition. He's willing to have a southern ceremony in the sept as is the custom for royal marriages. But there must be a second wedding before the Winterfell Godswood to legitimize their nuptials in the eyes of his bannermen.

That was perhaps the least outrageous demand. He and his mother were pious servants of the Seven but his maternal grandmother Sara was a Blackwood by birth. She followed the Faith as most those in the South do, but never forgot the Gods of her ancestors.

The third and according to him most important demand was for his elder brother Aegon to go an royal progress to the northern houses.

He'll spend half of his time in Winterfell with their sister and soon to be good-brother, but visit the other lords in the remainder of the year. Get to know them, bond with them and drink with them. Strictly in moderation.

Cregan made it quite clear he heard plenty of rumors about Aegon and he isn't particularly impressed with the king they want him to follow. So he wants him to come North to make a proper man out of him.

Is being unabashedly impetuous and absent of decorum unique to the Starks or a more prevalent Northern trait, he wondered.

How he maintained composure, he doesn't know himself. But he did. And informed him he'll relay his terms upon his return. Inwardly, he laughed to himself at Helaena's future happiness being linked to Aegon becoming a better man.

They were truly doomed. Every pantheon must be mocking them, he had no doubt. By the time he circled the skies for a few hours, he felt a sense of rejuvenation wash over him.

If nothing else. The journey has brought him a small sense of peace. He would enjoy visiting this barbaric land of ferocious pagans once more.

Hopefully as an ally and not a conquering enemy.

***

Daeron POV

The young prince of three and ten would much rather be at the yard fighting other squires or riding his dragon Silverwing, the mount of his great-grandmother Queen Alysanne.

The legendary beasts of the Old King and Good Queen's resided in Dragonstone, their ancestral home since their riders died. But after Silverwing was nearly attacked by the elusive Cannibal, she flew away in a panic to King's Landing. Her mate Vermithor later followed her to the Dragon Pit and the dragons made a new nest.

He always felt he was destined to be a dragon-rider. He could feel it in his bones. The majestic beasts called to him and he knew he must answer the call.

At the age of eight, he bonded with his other half. Mother threw a feast like she did for Helaena six moons past. She was as proud as he was anxious he put himself in so much harm.

But he had no choice.

Unlike his nephews Jace, Luke and Joff, no dragon egg was placed in his cradle. None of his full siblings had one either.

His father's favoritism was not something he liked to think about. He wasn't really aware of that fact as he is now. Four years after he was sent to foster at Storm's End things have changed but still stay the same.

Hoping for a letter from the king is a foolish self-deception. His health is not what it once was he knew. Or he was told rather.

He can't remember a day when his father was hale and healthy any more than he recalls his mother and half-sister seeing eye to eye.

This devide in their family was suffocating in the Capital. He couldn't afford being weak in front of anyone other than his direct kin, his grandfather counseled. To do so is give them cause to harm you.

He respected the Hand of the king, but his pragmatic view on things was borderline nihilistic. At least the little boy of 8 thought so. His brother losing an eye for claiming a dragon and being called a thief as well changed his perception. As if dragons were mere toys to be stolen.

Amond told him that's how the fight broke out. Their self-righteous cousins attacked and their nephews followed suit. They tackled him to the ground, the four of them but he managed to free himself and picked up rock to threaten them to leave.

He called them bastards yes, but he was angry and hurt and didn't deserve to lose his eye over the matter. Certainly not be tortured as their loving sister so eloquently suggested.

He swore the day to be stronger for his family. To be able to protect them. But is being stuck for hours listening to the old maester the best use of his time?

Lord Borros isn't even literate, so why must he be subjugated to never-ending lectures on trade and commerce. If they were discussing warfare and strategy at least he could understand the importance. Soldiers simply obey their commanders. They don't need to memorize battle plans or complex maneuvers.

When Ulmer finally finishes and looks about ready to ask questions about some tax plan he didn't listen to, he's saved by a servant entering hastily.

"A raven for Prince Daeron from King's Landing"

He doesn't wait for Ulmer's permission and sprints to the door. He takes the scroll and opens it quickly.

It's from his mother. He's invited to the capital for Helaena's betrothal announcement.

He missed his home.