"It's my duty, my God-given birthright and my crown."
- Mary, Queen of Scots
In which Valyria Targaryen returns to the Red Keep and becomes a key player in the game for the Iron Throne.
....or....
In which there isn't a person in the Se...
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90 AC, Winterfell
The North was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Somehow the winter landscape both looked like a dream and the object of his worst nightmares. With the snow shining bright upon the clear blue sky, the snow covered ground glittered like it was covered by a million diamonds. But he knew the beauty hid a danger once the winds picked up and the nights grew longer.
Much like the harsh landscape surrounding it, Winterfell differentiated much from the other keeps he'd visited south of the Neck. The huge castle complex spanned several acres and was encircled by two massive granite walls that made it a fortress, easily protected from anyone that dared to attack the wolf den.
Within the walls, the Godswood of Winterfell consisted of three acres of trees and in the centre, like a spot of blood on a white canvas, stood the ancient Weirwood tree. The tree crowns protected anyone inside the Godswood from being spotted from the skies, but one could clearly see the bustling household running across dozens of courtyards and small open spaces that the complex consisted of.
"Embrot," he commanded and the black dragon released a thundering roar as he made the descent. Outside of Winter Town, on one of the snow covered fields that seemingly stretched for miles, Dāryx landed, releasing a displeased huff when his black wings lined with silver brushed against the cold ground.
"We started to worry that you had gotten lost, my Prince," Ser Ryam Redwyne jested as the Prince of Dragonstone slid down the wing.
"I simply couldn't waste this opportunity to explore the lands covering nearly half the kingdom," Prince Daeron smiled at the Kingsguard, looking around the vast and bare landscape around them with curiosity.
"I don't know if it's different from the skies, but from the ground everything looks the same, Your Highness," Ser Ryam said, shivering despite wearing twice as many layers underneath his armour as he did in the south. Since the Prince needed protection during his visit, a group of Targaryen men accompanied by one of the Kingsguards travelled ahead to be in Winterfell when the Crown Prince arrived on dragonback.
"Perhaps for the unobservant," Prince Daeron grinned, adjusting his black cloak. "Do I look presentable?" he asked his Kingsguard, hoping that the harsh winds ruined his put together appearance too much. His dear mother would most definitely kill him if he didn't look proper when greeting the Starks.
"Everyone will be too busy trying not to freeze to death to even care," Ser Ryam answered.
"I have a suspicion the northerners are used to this weather by now," Prince Daeron pointed out. Running a hand through his silver hair, he made sure it wasn't tousled after the journey and after patting Dāryx on the neck, he walked over to the horse that awaited him.
