The cold winds bit through Jacaera Velaryon's heavy cloak as her dragon, Vermax, descended upon the snow-covered courtyard of Winterfell. The ancient stone walls loomed around her, their silence broken only by the roaring wind. Stark men and women, clad in furs, gathered cautiously, their breath misting in the chill air.

Sliding down from Vermax's saddle, Jacaera straightened her posture, the warmth of her dragon’s scales still lingering against her legs. She was dressed for the cold but carried herself with the confidence of a true princess.

Lord Cregan Stark approached, flanked by his bannermen. His sharp, grey eyes studied her with the weight of the North behind them.

"Lord Stark," Jacaera began, her voice steady despite the frost in the air, "I come to call in your father's oath to my mother in her time of need."