125 AC
Aemond POV
Aemond had always prided himself on being mother's favorite son. His elder brother Aegon was an annoying prat and his younger brother Daeron while perfectly pleasant, had been sent off to foster at Storm's End too young, so the spotlight was left entirely to him.
He'd long discarded any hope of being noticed by his half-dead father. The king had made his feelings abundantly clear, when he screamed at his face about his nephews' bastardy, threatening to cut off his tongue whilst his eye was still being sown up.
It brought him an exquisite amountof joy, when he lost his own eye to infection and disease a few months later. Divine retribution mother called it. They were denied justice at Driftmark so the Seven took it on their behalf.
Rhaenyra and Daemon had stayed on Dragonstone since the incident. He never could understand his half-sister.
Her claim to the throne was ridiculously tenous with three trueborn brothers. Yet she kept fumbling and dragging herself to deeper pits again and again.
From having three obvious bastards to marrying the very man she was chosen to replace, not even a sennight after her husband's death, mind you. And of course, abandoning the capital knowing his mother and grandsire are her political rivals.
Perhaps she doesn't even want the throne, like Aegon she wasn't meant to rule or govern, but keeps holding on to it out of sheer spite.
He'd repect her tenacity if not for her utter incompetence.
He's getting ahead of himself though.
Now's the time to focus. His mother sent him to this barren wasteland to negotiate a decent marriage alliance for his sweet sister.
He'd almost balked at the thought of Halaena living in the distant North for the remainder of her days. Wanted to protest and argue with his mother and grandfather at banishing her from court for no apparent reason, until Hel had told him it was her idea. That their family needed allies and this union will bring her happiness she wouldn't find otherwise.
He took her at her word. Helaena's visions were never wrong. He looked at the reminder every day in the mirror.
Aemond felt a low groan from Vhagar. The old girl didn't much like the cold. The winds and snow had surprised him when he flew through the neck.
Snow, in the middle of summer. He might've been slightly fascinated if it wasn't so tedious to huddle close to his Dragon for warmth.
'Just a little longer' he'd whispered to the queen of Dragons.
Winterfell finally appeared in the horizon. It was truly a large Castle. Bigger than even the Red Keep, if he had to wager, but barely. It couldn't however rival his family's seat of power in opulence or grandeur, he was certain.
He made his slow descent just outside Wintertown and climbed down his dragon.
''We'll hopefully find you some game then you can rest old girl", he ran his had over her green snout.
Three riders approached him, though they kept a healthy distance. He walked near them and spoke 'Were you sent by the Lord of Winterfell?'
The middle one responded 'Yes your grace, we're to take you to the main keep.'
He took the fourth horse they had brought and followed their lead. He kept his mind on Vhagar, calming he nerves through their shared bond
***
Cregan POV
He stood in the middle of the courtyard with his aunt Lyra, his uncle Uhtred Umber, the Lord of Last Hearth and his young cousins Benjen and Sara alongside the rest of the household.
They all (im)patiently waited for the arrival of the prince. His absurdly large dragon had been sighted an hour ago, and planted both fear and awe in the hearts of many.
No Targaryen has been to winterfell since the Old King and good Queen came decades ago on progress.
Supposedly his ancestor Alaric's frosty hospitality that nearly qualified as disrespect was the cause for their subsequent isolation.
It's fortunate King Jaehaerys hadn't met Cregan. If he had lost a sibling or close relative due to the monarch's mistakes, rudeness would be the least grievous of his reactions.
Though matters long dead must stay in the past. The present is what matters now.
Specifically, the royal visit meant for discussing a stronger alliance with the North. 'A long neglected but integral part of the kingdom' the Queen's letter said.
As if the southerners cared about his home or people.
No. The Queen and her son most likely wish for his army's support in case of an upcoming succession crisis.
It was clear to all and sundry that the nobility was splitting into factions. Queen Alicent's party, the Greens, seeking to install her son Aegon as the future lord of the seven kingdoms. And the Blacks, Princess Rhaenyra's supporters defending her claim to the throne.
Both options interested him little and less. The Prince and Princess' vices were similar and infamous. Though only the latter denied their existence to no avail.
He would side with the ruler who had the North's best interest in heart. If neither cared for his country's needs, he'll leave them both to their family feuding and declare neutrality.
Cregan's attention was finally brought out by the arrival of Winterfell's Master at arms Jeor Cassel, his other cousin Bran and foster brother Edric Bolton alongside their esteemed guest of honor: Prince Aemond Targaryen.
They call him the Silver Wraith in the South. He's but five and ten, yet tall and a great fighter taught by Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kinsguard.
His nickname is due to his important network of spies, which landed him a position on the Small council as Master of whispers. They're his greatest asset. Well, that and his fire breathing monstrosity that could decimate soldiers without breaking a sweat.
On second thought, maybe neutrality was never a viable option.
As the riders disembarked hastily, Bran took his usual position at his right with the rest of their family. Ned took the left and Jeor retreated behind them with fellow household members.
'Greetings your grace. Welcome to Winterfell'
'Lord Stark. It's honor to meet you' The one-eyed royal responded.
A few minutes and necessary introductions later, the Warden of the North and the dragon prince headed to the Great hall for the welcoming feast.