[Chapter Size: 2600 Words.]
Third Person POV.
North.
...
...
The days passed in Winterfell as Daenerys grew accustod to her new routine.
She couldn't deny she was enchanted by the Stark castle. The weather was gray, the atmosphere somber, and the people reserved and cautious, especially with strangers — yet, there was still beauty there. It was the first castle she had truly been in within Westeros, if one didn't count the Wall...
Daemon had made Ser Barristan Selmy swear to protect her — and now he watched her with even more zeal than Daemon himself, who refused protection for obvious reasons. No one would dare touch him. No one could.
On that first night in Winterfell, Daemon had taken her to dinner after asking the servants to prepare a bath and set aside the dress he had once bought in Braavos — Myrish silk.
The first night had been sowhat frightening for Daenerys. She wasn't used to the lords of the North, facing nobility for the first ti as a queen — which was very different from dealing with the free folk — especially when everyone present watched her with suspicion.
They seed to wonder if she was an enemy... perhaps soone who had inherited her father's madness...
She was nervous. Every gaze in the hall was fixed upon them. Val and Ygritte were seated beside her, and Daenerys sat to Daemon's right, officially taking her place as queen beside him.
Val had told her not to mind the curious stares, while Daemon, with calm assurance, said everything was fine — no one would dare say anything in his presence.
To Daemon's left sat Robb Stark. Even after everything, Daemon had still placed him at the high table as lord of Winterfell, though it was obvious he no longer held any true power over the castle — not while Daemon had yet to decide what to do with House Stark. None of the lords complained, but Daenerys could see in so of their glances a hint of frustration directed at Robb — perhaps even contempt. They were angry at him for his failure in the South.
As the night went on, the n began to drink and talk, though suspicious looks lingered. That had been only the first night, but soon Daenerys began to grow accustod to the place.
In the days that followed, a routine was established. Upon waking, she often found Daemon overseeing the castle's affairs or training alongside the n of the North. He also had the free folk train beside them — a way to bring the two groups closer together, still tense in each other's presence. Daemon also sparred often with Val, and Daenerys couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever she found them smiling at each other after training. It was sothing she could never have with Daemon, for she didn't know how to fight, nor was she as fierce as Val — or even Ygritte.
Daenerys tried to speak with the Northern ladies who remained in Winterfell. Lady Cerwyn was among the most open and friendly, though, like all Northerners, she too showed a certain distrust. Lady Glover certainly didn't hold a very friendly opinion of Daenerys; she kept her respect, but couldn't hide the faint look of displeasure on her face whenever she spoke to her.
The glances and whispers were always there, but a single stern look from Daemon — or even from his guards — was enough to silence them imdiately. Daemon had told her that the Northerners would distrust her and even him for being Targaryens; they would have to live with that until they managed to change their minds. They respected Daemon for what he had done, but Daenerys, as the daughter of the Mad King, still had to earn that respect — even if she was Daemon's future wife.
Despite the initial discomfort, Daenerys still found good things in that place. Ygritte and Val proved to be surprisingly loyal companions. Even with their fierce personalities, they kept her safe from prying eyes and were always by her side. At tis, they even argued and snarled at the Northern lords, mocking them for staring too much — which always made Daenerys laugh quietly.
Daemon was a presence full of energy and affection toward Daenerys, and she never pushed him away. She was there for him whenever he called.
She knew she was behaving like a girl in love, but she truly loved him. Her ti with him was precious. As he showed her every corner of Winterfell, speaking of small fond mories from his childhood — few as they were — Daenerys felt proud to walk beside him, her arm linked with his, strolling through the corridors and courtyards of the fortress. Even when she noticed the eyes upon them, she still felt proud to be there, with him.
Daemon had already explained that the Northern lords were a stubborn sort. Her father had committed atrocities, but he also said there was no reason for them to treat her as though they stood before Aerys's own demon. The king who had burned the forr Warden of the North and his heir before Ned Stark took his place — the North still carried bitter mories of the Targaryens.
Even so, Daenerys couldn't deny that she was kept safe. No one dared insult her, much less attack her. Ser Barristan was a man ever watchful and spoke with her often whenever Daemon was not at her side, for he was a faithful source of stories about her mother, her brother, and her family — those he had served before Daenerys was born.
And her company grew even more when the hunting party from the Wolf Forest returned after having slain as many ironborn as they could. The courtyard of Winterfell filled with direwolves — creatures no one was allowed to drive away.
Daemon had declared that the direwolves were as much a part of Winterfell as the Starks themselves. Daenerys couldn't deny her fascination with her favorite — Ghost — who had begun to keep her constant company and seed to like her as much as she liked him.
She had also spoken a few tis with Robb Stark, mostly when she saw him watching the wolves lying down or wandering around the courtyard. People were beginning to grow used to the creatures, as none had attacked anyone in recent days. Still, there was fear — many avoided passing near them, stepping aside when they saw them standing in the middle of the path, tongues hanging out and eyes alert.
Robb had told her that his wolf had been killed in the Freys' trap and that he missed him dearly. He also said that, many tis, he felt unworthy of bearing his house's sigil.
Daemon and Robb shared a curious relationship. Daemon ruled Winterfell, yet did not exclude him entirely from the castle's affairs. Daenerys had learned that Robb had been broken by the very war he had insisted on continuing. He looked at Daemon with a mixture of regret and pain — perhaps for childhood mistakes, perhaps for how things had unfolded during their last encounter. Daenerys couldn't tell.
Robb had once tried to attack and capture Daemon after what happened in the capital, believing him responsible for his father's death — unaware that Eddard Stark had still been alive at that ti. In the end, Daemon defeated him easily and, ironically, ended up sparing his life — unlike the other fifty n who had followed Robb.
At that ti, news had not yet arrived from the capital about what had occurred, for the queen had done everything she could to delay any information from leaving the city. Robb, consud by rage and grief, had believed Daemon had murdered his father and suffered a devastating defeat at the hands of the Dragonborn. Now, seeing him again in Winterfell, it was obvious he carried the weight of that silent guilt.
In any case, there were two things Daenerys loved most about her ti in Winterfell: spending her nights sharing a bed with Daemon, waking in the warmth of the man she loved wrapped around her body, and flying with the dragon Winter — sothing they did every day. Daemon always took her to the skies of the North, soaring over the frozen lands for hours. The feeling of freedom enchanted her — it was the one mont when the world seed to belong only to them, and she could never tire of it.
A desire to have her own dragon was also growing within her. She loved flying with Daemon, but she also longed to fly beside him. She hoped that Winter, though she didn't know if she would ever need another dragon, might lay eggs — since Winter was a female dragon.
However, beyond the things she loved and disliked in Winterfell, there was sothing about the castle that left her uneasy. At tis, she felt as though she were being watched when no one was around except her Kingsguard — and the gaze did not co from him. On other occasions, she had the impression that sothing followed Daemon. She had even heard him speaking to himself at tis, mocking and laughing with soone... Even when she woke to find him murmuring to soone in their chamber... And, at certain monts, the air beside him seed to shimr faintly, almost imperceptibly — as if sothing were there, lurking.
She thought it was so kind of magic — and though the idea intrigued her, it also made her uneasy. She didn't understand what it was, but she was certain there was more to it than it seed.
That morning, as she woke in the arms of her future husband, she finally decided to ask.
Her eyelids trembled before she opened them.
"Awake already?" Daemon asked, his voice low and rough as he kept her wrapped in his arms, warming her. She could feel his smile as her face rested against his muscular chest.
"Good morning, my king," Daenerys murmured, lifting her head to look at him.
"Good morning, my queen," he replied, still smiling. "And what troubles you, Dany?" he asked, noticing her hesitant gaze.
"Daemon... may I confess sothing?" she said, while he raised an eyebrow. "Sotis I feel like I'm being watched. And I've also noticed... sothing near you."
Daemon raised his eyebrow even higher, surprised, before letting out a quiet, amused chuckle.
"Oh, you noticed?" he asked teasingly.
"What is it, Daemon? So kind of magic of yours? Or are you spying on even more than you already do, with Ghost following everywhere?" she joked, though her curiosity was genuine.
"If you must know, no. I'm not spying on you, Dany," he replied, making her frown.
"What do you an by that? If it's not you... then who is it?" she questioned, as Daemon took it all with striking calm.
"Well... perhaps I should finally introduce you to soone. You've been here five days already, and I still haven't ntioned her — I didn't want to frighten you. But she's very eager to speak with you; she's been asking every day," Daemon explained calmly.
Daenerys looked at him, confused, searching for an answer, but he only smiled, kissed her forehead, and began to get up and dress.
"Let's eat sothing first. Then we'll go to the godswood," he said.
She was curious, but she knew Daemon wouldn't say anything until they arrived. It seed a little suspicious, but she trusted him with her life.
The first al of the day was peaceful in the great hall. The Northern n were already awake, talking and drinking dark ale. Afterward, Daemon led Daenerys to the godswood. On the way, Val asked to train with him, but Daemon replied that he had sothing to take care of first and would et her at the training grounds later.
Upon entering the godswood, they found Robb kneeling, praying in silence. Daenerys had already noticed his presence during breakfast and wasn't surprised to see him there. Robb stood when he noticed the couple approaching.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head respectfully.
"I see you're praying, Lord Stark," Daemon said calmly.
Daenerys felt sothing strange between the two n. They shared blood, yet they addressed each other with formal titles most of the ti. There was no familial warmth between them, only a respectful distance.
"Not for long. I was just about to leave," Robb replied. "I was praying for..." — he hesitated.
"For your son before the gods? Or for your mother?" Daemon asked coldly.
Daenerys frowned, surprised by the coldness of the question. Robb also seed stunned, lowering his gaze for a mont before answering.
"You're right... I pray for my son, who was taken from his mother's womb before he was even born. May he stand before the gods now. Just as my mother does..." he said quietly. "Now I'll leave you two. I know you prefer privacy."
He turned and began to walk away. Daemon watched him until Robb disappeared among the trees. Daenerys then nudged him with her elbow.
"What?" Daemon asked, turning his violet eyes toward her.
"You could be a little more sensitive. He lost his child... and his mother," Daenerys murmured.
"But I said no lies," Daemon replied indifferently. "I only stated the obvious."
"You could at least offer your condolences," she insisted.
"I would give my condolences for his child — an innocent one — but never for his mother. Let that woman rot in the Seven Hells, or wherever the vile souls of this world end up," Daemon snorted.
"She's right, Daemon," said a sudden voice behind them.
Daenerys startled, turning quickly, but saw no one. Daemon rely sighed, as if he had been expecting it.
"If you're going to complain about speaking now, know that I saw you planning to introduce to her. Otherwise, you wouldn't have brought her here," the voice continued.
"Who is it?" Daenerys asked, confused, looking around, but seeing no one.
"You can show yourself, Mother," Daemon said calmly.
"Mother?" Daenerys repeated, stunned.
The air before them began to waver. A faint glow took shape, and little by little, the translucent image of a young woman appeared. She resembled Daemon — so of her features, and her hair color — but her eyes were a deep, silvery gray.
Daenerys' mouth fell open in shock. She had heard rumors that Daemon's mother had appeared in Winterfell, frightening Lady Dustin. She had laughed at the story, thinking it nothing more than another northern legend ant to haunt her. She had never imagined that the spirit of Lyanna Stark truly lingered there.
"It's a long story," Daemon said, turning to Daenerys. "But allow to introduce you. This is Lyanna Stark, my mother. A certain acquaintance summoned her spirit for , and she will remain in Winterfell for so ti."
He turned toward the specter. "And this, Mother, is Daenerys Targaryen — my future queen."
Daenerys stood motionless, lips parted, staring at the figure before her.
"Hello, Daenerys," said Lyanna with a gentle smile. "I've been watching you these past few days. You resemble Rhaegar, my beloved, very much. I hope you can make my son happy."
Daenerys only blinked, still unable to believe what she was seeing. She was the woman who had run away with her older brother, who had given birth to Daemon — an echo of the past that, sohow, still walked among the living.
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