the rise of a wolf. jacaerys velaryon

II. CHAPTER TWO

  Even while with the dragons in the South, Nymeria would always be in the North of Winterfell. 

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     Dragonstone was beautiful, even under the circumstances. It was a stone castle, on a volcanic island. It had been built by the Targaryen's when they fled Old Valyria to escape the doom. Everything about the castle screamed to be the House of the Dragon.

  Nymeria began to feel her palms sweat as she looked towards the sandy beach of the island, she could distantly see dragons flying in the air, and stood on the beach was a small family — one that Nymeria would soon find herself a part of.

  Lady Erena's hand was soon placed on her shoulder, eyes holding an immense amount of comfort in these fearful moments, "Do you need a moment, My Lady?"

  Nymeria sucked in a breath, dread swirling in her brown eyes as she searched the sand, trying to look anywhere but the family she would find herself married into, "No. I must do this."

  "You can take a moment."

  "No." Nymeria reiterated, voice firm despite her stomach swirling with emotions that made bile rise in her throat. Nymeria sighed once more before bending down to grab her snow white dire wolf pup, the wolf curling into her arms, tongue reaching out to lick Nymeria's face. Her head swiveled to the side to look up at the older woman, "Are you prepared?"

  "If you are, My Lady."

  "I am."

  Erena smiled gently, so soft and motherly it had Nymeria's throat burning with the memory of her late mother, "After you." Erena spoke softly, and Nymeria swallowed before her feet found themselves walking off of the port and towards the small family that stood in the sand.

  Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was truly stunning in Nymeria's eyes. Her silver hair flowing elegantly down her back, complementing black and red dress she wore, silver stones were lined on the neckline of the Princess's dress. Her older sons stood beside her, the taller one on right, and the shorter one stood on her left. Ser Laenor Velaryon stood beside the shorter of the sons, holding a small child in his arms.

  A pinch of sadness clung to Nymeria like a dark shadow, she barely had six years with her entire family, and in passing years, she would soon forget those years. Princess Rhaenyra and her family seemed to have plenty of years ahead of them — happy years.

  Rhaenyra's smile was the embodiment of a mother, she took a few steps away from her children, looking down at Nymeria with such fondness, Nymeria could almost feel comforted — almost. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Rhaenyra's voice was softer than Nymeria would have assumed it to be for a Princess of her stature, her violet eyes flickered down to the wolf pup that rested in Nymeria's arms, "I did not realize that Starks kept dire wolves."

  Nymeria's brown eyes gleamed in despair for a moment, heart sinking, "She won't be a problem, Your Grace, I swear it."

  Rhaenyra's face hinted towards a frown, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "We own dragons, Nymeria, I am quite sure a dire wolf will be of no issue to Dragonstone."

  The Stark girl blinked back surprise at the use of her name coming from the mouth of a Princess, "My apologizes, Your Grace, I did not mean to jump to conclusions."

  "Do not fret, my dear, I have not been offended." In any other situation, Rhaenyra may have jested with the girl in front of her, but deep down she knew of the peril that was shown through the brave Stark girl. Nymeria Stark had been shipped off like an animal to be slaughtered, and in a way, bearing children to a man could very well lead to said slaughter. In any other situation, Rhaenyra would have been the jester, but tonight all she could do was sympathize. "I wish for you to meet my sons and dear husband."

  Nymeria nodded slightly, head barely moving, but her eyes drifted up to Lady Erena, who offered a small, encouraging smile. Rhaenyra smiled, once more, turning around as she walked towards her small family, Nymeria, Kalea, and Lady Erena following her closely.

  "This is my husband, Ser Laenor, and the babe he cannot seem to let go, is my youngest, Joffrey," Rhaenyra's teasing words caused Ser Laenor to glance up, an amused smile adoring his face, "This is Lucerys," Nymeria's eyes drifted to the shorter of the elder sons, "And this is Jacaerys."

  Nymeria's skin had gone cold as she looked at the eldest son. Brown eyes clashed with brown eyes, and even with her future set in stone, Nymeria could only pray Princess Rhaenyra had raised her sons in the correct manner.

  "It's an honor to meet you, My Lady." Jacaerys' smile seemed forced as he spoke softly to Nymeria (yet, Nymeria couldn't blame the Prince for she too was in the same boat as him — being forced to marry a person they did not know).

  "The honor is mine, Your Grace." Nymeria's smile mirrored Jacaerys', her knees bending to offer the Prince a courtesy.

  The pact had been officially set in stone, the pact of ice and fire, the pact of the Southern Dragon and the Northern Wolf. The pact of two children.

─── NOTE ;
i love parallels 

so far, i like this version sm 
better than the last