Helaena POV
Helaena always felt at peace near the heart tree. In her youth she could feel some otherworldly but undoubtedly alluring presence just beneath the surface.
She glimpsed once into the past, by touching the tree bark. Her mother sat beneath the red leaves. Strangely enough, she seemed happy and at ease. Not carrying the world's burden on her shoulders.
What's even more unexplainable was her half-sister lying next to her. The Rhaenyra she knew doesn't so much as glance at her mother without her aura being clouded with hidden rage.
The visions were no longer so peaceful. Fire and blood permeated her thoughts, invaded her sleeping hours and waking days. Death and carnage haunted her family just as surely as a wolf stalked its prey.
Wolf. Her wolf. She'll meet him soon enough. She saw that clear enough.
Most of the times, the dreams came and left like an deserter fleeing the headsman. She drew pages and pages with charcoal to keep track of their meaning. Her ancestor Daenys left a book on signs and symbols to decipher her own prophecies. She had it memorized by age ten.
But the future was malleable and rigid. Perhaps even the past for a ghost has taken to speaking with her a few moons ago. Not a dead man, but one yet to be born. He called himself a greenseer. They were children with the same of gift. Doomed to witness yet unable to intervene.
She thought not. If she wished to avoid the dark misery that loomed ahead then she would. Her path was her own and she'll weave the threads of fate just as easily as she sews a black widow on her gown.
Her brother and her were tied in matrimony in a previous life. Grasping marauders and false claimants fogged her vision. So, she diverged from that path.
The North was the last bastion of the old faith. Her mother had raised her under the light of the seven as custom dictated. But her grandmother was born a Blackwood who kept both faiths. The Old Gods have power. They must for how else can their servants pushed pack the andals? Were they not faithful soldiers on a holy quest?
Her ghost also spoke of wargs and skinchangers. They were blessed or cursed ,some might say, with the power to enter others' minds. Animals at first but even people eventually. Horrified and fascinated, she asked for more. Were the dragons similarly bound to the ancient Freehold?
His answer was as good as hers.
Those gifted were still more present North of the Neck. So she must go even if just to understand herself. She pleaded with her mother to arrange a marriage with the Warden of the North. She'd visit her father the King if she thought he remembered who she was. No, milk of the puppy doesn't addle his mind to such an effect yet. It will soon enough, she knew. But for now, he's lucid enough to moan for her uncle and half-sister.
How he clings to those who've abandoned him yet ignores her dutiful mother who took care of him for years. Even magical knowledge can't explain his contradictions.
As she thought, her mother relented. Weeks of persuading and talking of political benefits moved her little. Political advancement had doomed her to an unworthy husband. She wouldn't force her daughter to suffer the same.
But when Helaena told her that she would find happiness there. That her visions showed her a good future. The Light of the South began to contemplate the decision.
Her brother Aemond protested as well. He's basically an oversensitive pup. At least when it comes to her and their mother. He carries so much pain and rage at the injustice committed at Driftmark. She would've given her eye for his if she could. But she can never tell for certain if her dreams will come to life the next day, or in a hundreds years from now, when they're all dead and buried.
She hugged her brother and told him it would be fine. Touch never came easy to her. But she knew when it was necessary. It was this time. He only threatened to kill her intended one time. Progress is progress.
With any luck he and her wolf are friends by now and she'll take Dreamfyre for a ride. Her other half feels anxious when her ghost is near. Her dragon blood and greensight seemingly at odds with another. Perhaps she can learn better control in the lands of the first men.
***
Cregan POV
The northman dodged the upcoming blade from the silver prince.
They were sparring for the better part of the morning. And to his relief, he had no need to hold back.
He'd bested Jeor at the training yard at ten. His giant of an uncle Uhtred lost his advantage after his growth spurt at three-and-ten. He's still a ferocious foe no doubt.
His yell alone would wake the dead and make the living fill their breeches. His battle cry inspired his soldiers with a hunger for glory like no other. But he was no longer a match for Cregan.
His cursed usurper uncle Bennard might've asked for a trial by combat after his failed coup if he or any of his henchmen were brave enough to challenge the Young Wolf.
It seems that the southern prince was a worthy rival.
When he landed his lizard abomination and asked during the feast for the servants to feed it some sheep, he thought it a power-play. A means of reminding the castle that he was untouchable as a dragon-rider, as Vhagar's rider. He made the distinction between himself and other Targaryen ever so often.
So, naturally he invited him to the yard the following morning. Mayhaps he can beat the smugness of this royal twat. To his astonishment, the tales of his combat skills aren't exaggerated like the southerners are won't to do. His maneuvers despite his weakened peripheral vision is a test to his hardwork.
Still, he's enjoyed this fight as much as anyone. It's a shame he'll have end so soon. He can see he's tiring. With Ser Criston Cole having other duties than just training a second son, this must the longest fight the dragon prince has even been on. No other fighter with his caliber present made him disillusioned.
With a well timed faint, Cregan attacked Aemond from the right. The young prince raised his shield as expected. His fighting instinct sharp. Cregan switched his sword at the last second and struck to opponent's unprotected leg. Aemond's fatigue finally caught up with him and his response was too late. Cregan quickly knocked him down and held his sword to his neck.
"Yield" he said to his fallen foe.
The young prince yielded. Cregan lowered his arm to help him stand and the two shook hands.
"Well fought. It seems the South isn't filled with prancing flowers."
"Nor the North with primitive barbarians."
He might eventually like this silver haired jester. If he doesn't kill him first.
"The servants would've had your bath prepared my prince. We'll talk in my solar after."
He left for his own chambers. He was sweaty and a little tired to be honest. He could use a hot bath.
The sooner the one-eyed prince confirmed the purpose of his visit, the sooner he can find how desperate they are for his support and how much he'll drain in exchange for the benefit of the North.
***
A royal marriage.
Not in his wildest imagination did he think the Greens were so desperate for his help. The North possessed a formidable army, second only to the Reach if they had enough time to gather their full strength. And their fighting men were far superior to common peasants that formed the bulk of southern armies.
But next to the might of Dragons their aid was not optimal.
He half expected the prince to laugh at his own jest and propose a more favorable agreement for grain shipping during winter. Perhaps tax exemption for the next decade as an added bonus. When he maintained his somber disposition. Cregan's face became equally serious. He asked for a short time to think the matter carefully. The Targaryen's fierce glare at a perceived insult would've made a lesser man cave no doubt.
He held on. Better an imaginary insult then a direct one. And that's exactly what asking about the princess would cause.
Aemond left his solar, heading to the training yard, his dragon or maybe even the library. He asked of its whereabouts after the feast the previous night. He was an interesting youth.
Cregan stayed seated thinking of this dilemma.
Princess Rhaenyra was the declared heir of King Viserys. Although she was named as such to avoid handing the throne to a warmonger like the Rogue Prince.
His father like all other high lords was summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new princess of Dragonstone.
Rickon Stark was one of the few who found no issue with bowing to a woman. His own uncle Ellard had preferred Rhaenys to Viserys at the Council. A daughter had a better claim than an uncle or a cousin.
When news of the new prince Ageon spread across the kingdoms, he expected an other summon to swear fealty to the new heir apparent.
No such letter arrived. Aegon passed infancy and another son was born. Still, the succession remained unaltered.
Quite a few eyebrows were raised when news of the princess' children arrived. Their coloring was not similar to either parent or even grandparent. The Hand of the King's son Ser Harwin Strong was accused in rumors as being the boys' father.
Rickon dismissed those allegations. For how can the King ignore such treason.
Then the princess left court just as Ser Harwin and his father did.
The whispers grew louder.
At Laena Velaryon's funeral, some even claimed the prince Aemond accused the children of bastardy in person, and his nephew Lucerys took his eye for the offense. Rhaenyra thought the punishment insuffient and asked her half-brother to be questioned sharply.
His father died two moons before the incident so he never knew how he would react to it. But Cregan recognized ruthlessness for what it was.
The princess' hasty marriage to the infamous Daemon and rumors of her husband's death implicating her and the Rogue Prince only solidified her reputation.
And now he must choose which side to support.
To scorn the Greens with such an offer would be madness. But he can't help but think some hidden agenda at play.
He wouldn't dare tarnish the Princess Helaena's reputation by refusing. Nobles would sneer and accuse her of having lost her virtue or some inane idiocy of the like.
But could he side with a ruler who might be as ineffectual as the alternative. Risk his people in a war for a monarch that doesn't know or care about them.
And just then. He had his solution.