"May the odds be ever in your favor." - The Hunger Games.
Year: 121ac
Location: Winterfell
Bennard Stark came by Winterfell along with his three sons to witness the funeral of his brother. It only took them 2 days since he did not live far. His hair got longer from the last time he visited, prior to Rickon's travel to Kings Landing for his support with House Targaryens future Queen.
"Where's my brother?" He asked one of the guards. They showed him in the direction he needed to go. Somewhere cold and quiet. His room.
The three brothers stayed behind.
Cregan Stark was in the Great Hall when he had heard news of his uncle going up to visit his father, only leaving his three cousins outside. He told his men to bring his cousins in and prepare them their meals and drinks.
Soon enough the three cousins arrived inside where it was warm.
Benjen Stark, 8 and 10 years old. First born. Tall. Handsome. Lean cut.
Brandon Stark, 6 and 10 years old. Second Born. Shorter than the first brother. His hair remained short and cut on the sides. His eyes were not of his fathers, but of his mothers. Blue.
Elric Stark, 5 and 10 years old. Third born. Kept his hair tied back. Lighter hair. Probably from his mothers. Although seemed slightly older than his second brother, but was indeed the youngest of the bunch.
Cregan Stark walked over, shaking their hands while they gave their condolences to him. Sara came around serving their drinks as they sat around a prepared table for them. All they now needed was his uncle to come be seated at the table.
"If I may—-" Brandon Stark began. "—What happened?"
Cregan took a sip of his own cup after being served. Sara Snow made her way out. "He passed in his sleep. The age got to him."
Benjen nods. "At least it was not brutal."
"Yes. I suppose you're right."
"Would this mean that you're a Lord now?" Brandon asked. Benjen gently hits his brother's arm. "Just a question."
"Winterfell has always been my home. I've been arranging the funeral. Been busy since then. I am a Lord."
Elric nods to him. "A young one. The youngest."
Cregan wanted to laugh, but found no reason to.
Food was brought and was served at the table.
Bennard Stark had just entered the Great Hall to eat as well. No words were exchanged during their meals.
Soon after they were finished, their plates were picked up and cups were refilled. Bennard spoke. "I have made the choice to stay in Winterfell with my sons until you are 6 and 10. When you are 6 and 10, you shall become Lord of Winterfell."
"I am Lord of Winterfell."
"No. You are a boy. A boy who would be off studying and training like everyone else. When you are 6 and 10 in three years, you will be Lord like a proper Adult and I will then return home with my boys."
"Father—-" The Eldest tried to interrupt. He stopped when his fathers hand was raised.
Cregan listen. "3 years. That is all. After that... we go home." Cregan did not want this sudden change. "The Elders think it's wise. Even the guards that I have spoken to."
"3 years." Bennard Stark nods. "I order my men to send out word that my father has passed. And all you have to speak about is wanting to stay here in Winterfell. Does my fathers death not matter to you, uncle?"
A shift made inside the Hall. A dangerous one in fact. "I wept when I read the letter. I have wept from the journey there to here. I wept when I stepped into your fathers chambers." Cregan eyes him. Bennard was growing angry with Cregan's insult. "I love your father. He was my brother. And now he is gone. No one to look out for you. No one to care for you. But here I am. Looking and caring for you. Here and Now." Silence. "We will speak about this later. When is the funeral?"
"Tonight." He reminds him as Cregan stands up. "I suggest you get some rest. If your sons wish to rest, I'll send word to prepare rooms."
Before Bennard could speak, a dragon's roar was heard above the clouds. Bennard and His three boys stood up, holding their weapons on the side of their holsters.
Cregan Stark walks out of the Great Hall without worry or hurry.
All follow him out.
The clouds stretched all over Winterfell. They saw nothing. "No need for those." Cregan tells them while he continues to walk towards the gate. Bennard, Benjen, Brandon, and Elric follow Cregan out. Their group of men that had made it from their home had stepped back when they saw a nearly 100 foot dragon, landing away from the Winterfell Castle.
Cregan jogs over.
Everyone else remains back.
Dralarys Targaryen has just finished taking her dragon out to get some food for him to eat.
Cregan keeps his distance as he watched Dralarys slide off her dragon. Once she got down, Valgan takes off again on his own.
Dralarys and Cregan walked back together to the gates.
Bennard Stark had heard the rumors of a Targaryen girl living with them. Those rumors were told to be true.
Cregan Stark clears his throat. "Dralarys... this is my uncle, Bennard Stark." Dralarys nods at him. "And these are my cousins. Benjen. Brandon. And Elric."
"Hi." Benjen says to her.
"Hello." Brandon and Elric say.
Dralarys nods at them as well. "I hope the way here was not any trouble."
"None at all." Benjen replies.
Bennard did not like her presence already. Did not matter to him if she was a child, Targaryen Blood runs all the same. A threat. A great force of nature. "How old is your Dragon?"
"He is nearly 10, sir." Bennard could not get the tall figure from his mind. This dragon was yet a baby, like her, and yet he was taller than anything he had ever seen before. "He won't bite. That is if you are not near him. He doesn't like strangers."
"I will make sure to remember." Bennard replies. "Come boys. Rest."
"Yes, father." They reply to him as they all head back inside the walls.
Dralarys spent her time in Brandeth's house with his family. She had not attempted to return back to her room since it was next to Lord Rickons room. His family were always happy to see her when she stopped by.
But on this occasion, was no hangout or playtime.
Dralarys would sit for hours by the fire and stare while tears ran down her face. She had not eaten since.
When the light's sky had gone out, all was left was the dark and the fires that carried on out. Cregan was the first to set fire to the cut down tree barks. The followed by Sara, Bennard, Benjen, Brandon, Elric, and lastly Dralarys.
Dralarys stayed near the fires, watching her father figure burn.
Winterfell mourned for the loss of a great leader. A friend. A brother. An uncle. A father. All in one, he was it. Rickon Stark was all of it.
Dragon wings flaps and landed across from the funeral sight. Looking up, Dralarys spotted The Red Dragon she saw two years ago.
Angrily holding her small knife handle at the hip, she paced over quickly.
Cregan tried to go after. Bennard held him back by having his hand on his shoulder.
Daemon had just got off his Dragon, then turning around to hear an angry Dralarys screaming while holding her knife up. Daemon stopped her, by holding onto her wrist. Dralarys could hardly see him through her tears. Dralarys lets go of the knife and cries all over again.
The loss of a loved one is never easy.
He's seen it first hand with his brother, King Viserys, and his niece, Princess Rhaenyra.
Daemon lets her hit his chest over and over until she could no more. She was angry. Hurt. Frustrated. No words were exchanged from one another. All Daemon could do was let her cry against him while he softly caressed her back.
Cregan watched from the second floor by his room watching Daemon and Dralarys walking back together. Few words were exchanged with one another before Dralarys hands him her key to her room.
Dralarys walks back to Brandeth's house.
Daemon walks up the steps to Dralary's room door. Cregan eyes Daemon. Daemon eyes him back before unlocking the door and closes it behind him.
"Dracarys!" An older woman's tone of voice boomed and echoed in a burning city. Dralarys watched as the Black Dragon and its rider got off the walls and had begun to burn the city below it.
People screamed and shouted in a city she did not recognize.
Bells rang over and over until the dragon knocked it down with its flames.
Looking to her left, she saw a boy with Stark gear on him. His hair, short around the ears. Tall and skinny. He watched her as if he knew her. But she did not. "You're not supposed to be here."
Her words formed on their own. "You're not supposed to be here either, Bran."
"Dralarys!" Dralarys had been woken up by Brandeth. Brandeth watched as she sat up from the floor by the chimney. "Are you having those dreams again?"
She sighed as she took his hand to get up from the floor. "Yes." She said while rubbing her eyes.
"What did you dream about this time? Learn any new words?" New words meaning she was learning The Targaryen Language in her dreams rather than having a teacher to aid her with it. This secret stayed between friends. Well... between Brandeth and herself.
The Question is avoided. "Why am I awake?"
"Oh." He began. "Your uncle is waiting for you. Did not say why."
Dralarys thanks him before heading out.
The Door closes behind her.
Daemon is standing a few feet away from the house. "Follow me."
And so she does.
Location: River of the West from Winterfell
Daemon was not one for having a conversation started in a gentle manner. He's not one for comfort. No, "How are you", "How are you holding up?", "I'm sorry about your loss." No. He is not that way. Instead, he helps her by giving her a boost to get on his dragon while he gets behind her.
Valgan is out roaming about.
Did not take them long to reach the rivers of the west.
Dralarys got off first and then Daemon followed after.
Together they sat, listening to the stream of water flow down south. "He passed away in his sleep if you were wondering." He did not ask, but instead, listened. "We were supposed to go hunting that morning. I had the responsibility of waking him up from time to time. Cregan and I would take turns doing so." Her legs were up against her chest. Arms wrapped around them to keep them there. "It was supposed to be my actual first official kill. Not like two years ago when I should have aimed for the Deer, but instead got a boar instead." A huff followed after. "You wouldn't believe my answer on why I did not shoot the deer and went after the boar instead." Daemon lied there, just looking out at the water. "A White Stag came out." This got his attention. "Came to eat some leaves from a tree nearby, blocking the smaller sized female deer. It wasn't the kill I was after, so... I let him go. The deer ran off after that."
"A White Stag." He repeats.
"Yes."
Daemon says nothing after. Not even the reason to what the White Stag represented. A White Stag represents the true heir to the kingdom. An official coronation. A true ruler in legendary tales, just how Aegon the Conqueror got his approval. "Why the boar?"
She chuckles. "I had to bring something back other than squirrels."
That he understood. Best having something brought back rather than nothing. What was funny about her first kill is that it was also Rhaenyra's first kill as well. How odd. "Would you like to come home with me back to High Tide?"
"And do what?"
"Learn your ancestors language. Our language. You'll be closer to your cousins."
"I know the language."
"You do not. No one in Winterfell speaks Valyrian."
"I know the language."
"Qilōni?" (Who?)
"Nyke gūrēntan hen daorys." (I learned from no one.)
Daemon was hard to impress. But each time he's been to Winterfell, he's been impressed by her thus far. Someone has been clearly teaching her. Whoever that may be is doing a fine job of it. He would have to speak about it to his brother to see if he sent anyone to teach her. "Very well then." Daemon sat up. "I am going to offer you a choice. You can either go with me, back to Kings Landing in which you will learn your new whereabouts of your fathers sons and daughters. Rhaenyra has three nephews of yours, all obviously in which you have not met before. I have two daughters of my own. Or—-" She waits. "—you can stay here in Winterfell doing who knows what up here."
Dralarys did not see the point in her returning back to Kings Landing with The King, let alone her Uncle back to High Tide. She's studied the map, so it would be a days ride out to Kings Landing... maybe less if Valgan continues to grow. "My answer will remain the same as before, Daemon." Looking back at him, he now understands that her life would change for the better or worse if she was forced into a life she did not grow accustomed to in Kings Landing.
He chuckles. Not something he does back home with his wife. "Raised by wolves. Is a wolf." She nods at him. "No matter what. You are Targaryen." No argument there. Although he did wonder why her teeth were that sharp. He let that thought die on its own. "Find two branches for us. I want to see how good you are."
Dralarys gets up, finding the branches.
Location: Winterfell
Later in the day, Daemon and Dralarys return with smiles on their faces. Daemon grabbed Dralarys by his arm, having to have her locked while he used the other one to playfully rub the top of her head with his fist. She laughed as he let go.
Bennard watched them carefully while making his way to the Great Hall.
Drinks and food are served.
Laughter amongst two separated tables.
On one table had Bennard, Benjen, Brandon, Elric, and Cregan.
In another. Only Daemon and Dralarys sitting across from each other.
Bennard stood up, taking his cup, and made his way over to the others table. His sons stopped talking.
Daemon smiled at Dralarys remarks on how she nearly had him if it wasn't for the rock that had caused him to tumble over. "I let you win."
"Oh, did you?" Daemon laughed.
"I did." She technically didn't. The rock that was on the ground won.
Bennard clears his throat. Daemon's smile rapidly faded. Daemon looked up at him. "You must be Daemon Targaryen."
"That I am."
Bennard sat, uninvited. "Are you here to take her back home?"
Daemon's eyes shifted towards the other table. The smallest of the bunch across from them had a look of protectiveness. Daemon's focus returned towards the man. "She's decided to stay."
"Oh?" Bennard is surprised to hear that. "I thought Targaryens stuck together. Traditionally and what not."
"This ones different." Daemon reached out, pinching one side of Dralary's cheek. Dralarys smiled. Bennard looked at her teeth before Daemon lets go of her. "You are Bennard, yes?"
"Yes."
Daemon nods, standing from his seat. "Well. My condolences to you." Dralarys stood up too. "Watch her for me. My Brother's orders."
Bennard made no move or nod towards him.
Daemon placed his hand on Dralarys's shoulder while leaving the Hall. He spoke closely to her ear. "Always trust your instincts. If you have to abandon your morals for it, do it. Do not hesitate." Dralarys wondered why Daemon would say something like that.
Now at the gates, Daemon and Dralarys stood there facing each other. "Any word from The King?" She asked.
Daemon shook his head. "He wishes for your growth and intelligence to expand." Disappointment. "Dralarys, your father—-"
"—I understand."
Daemon says nothing else. Instead, he gives her a hug. Dralarys hugged him back. What a weird bond between Uncle and Niece. Daemon pulls away. "If there is ever a moment when you feel defeated. Remind yourself of who you are. A Dragon."
Dralarys nods to him.
Daemon steps back before making his way back towards Caraxes.
Bennard watched him leave alongside his sons and his nephew.
May the games begin.