The sea breeze carried a chill as Rhaenyra’s young daughter stood on the deck of the ship, her gaze fixed on the distant shores of the North She clutched her cloak tighter, though it did little to shield her from the biting wind The cold was relentless, creeping into her bones in a way she had never experienced in Dragonstone or King's Landing She had grown up in the warmth of the south, under skies that were often sunny and seas that shimmered like molten gold.

The North, however, was stark in every sense of the word Gray skies, howling winds, and the ever-present snow that blanketed the landscape awaited her Cregan Stark, her betrothed, stood beside her, silent and steadfast The marriage had been arranged to strengthen the alliance between House T|N and House Stark before the looming threat of war, but the weight of it all felt heavier than her furs.

When they finally arrived, she could barely feel her fingers The stark walls of Winterfell rose before her imposing and foreign. She hurried into the keep, desperate for warmth, while Cregan remained behind, speaking with his men. Her footsteps echoed through the stone halls as she made her way to the room that had been prepared for her.

The moment she stepped inside, a wave of relief washed over her. The room was warm, heated by a roaring fire in the hearth Her numb fingers tingled painfully as they thawed, and she exhaled a deep breath, her senses slowly returning The warmth soothed her, but her body felt heavy with exhaustion from the journey She tilted her head tiredly and slumped onto the edge of the bed, barely aware of the door creaking open behind her.

Cregan entered, closing the door gently behind him His voice was deep but soft as he said, “I see you are really tired.”

She turned to look at him as he began to remove his heavy fur coat, his movements slow and deliberate He had the look of a man used to the harshness of the North, broad-shouldered and unbothered by the cold.