The snow fell lightly as Jacaerys Velaryon dismounted his dragon, Vermax, at the gates of Winterfell. The towering walls loomed before him, a silent testament to the enduring strength of House Stark. His breath clouded in the icy air, and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as the gathered northern men watched him with wary curiosity.

Lord Creganne Stark stood at the base of the steps to the Great Hall, flanked by her bannermen. Her grey eyes, cold as the winter sky, studied the prince with an unreadable expression. "Welcome to Winterfell, my prince," she said, her voice steady, with only the faintest hint of curiosity. "The North welcomes you."