All Cregan had done before was valiantly fulfill his duty as Warden of the North and head of House Stark, which he had unfortunately become at a very young age.

He had previously been biased in his opinion of the southerners, although he had never met any of them — he had heard about them. And the infamous Targaryens, the dragons who ruled everything, people who were too mired in their own ambitions and political intrigues. But the Starks do not forget their oaths.

At first, you seemed so distant to him, the daughter of Queen Rhaenyra, a confident crown princess who defended her mother's rights with a fiery heart. This is what attracted him, although he was afraid to even admit it to himself.

You were both connected — your mother promised this betrothal, an alliance truly forged in ice and fire.

But victory did not bring you so much happiness — you lost your mother, brothers, almost all loved ones. And your mother's crown, which was placed on your head, seemed so heavy. The ashes of war settled gradually, and autumn came too quickly, leaving only cold and a gloomy cloud over the kingdom.

However, your wedding took place almost immediately, the Small Council did not want to drag it out. You and Cregan certainly had warm feelings for each other. The time spent earlier in the North really strengthened the two of you, gave birth to these warm unknown feelings.

But his presence next to you did not completely fill the emptiness in your heart. He saw this, and did everything possible to help you cope with it; he held councils himself when you were not able, made sure that people at feasts did not cause you inconvenience, stopped any attempts to talk about heirs.

You were grieving, and he understood it, and wanted to give you time.

“Are you skipping dinner again today?” His voice is calm, without a bit of indignation or complaint, rather full of unspoken concern.

His concern grew stronger with each passing day, but he was ready to support you to the end.