Cregan Stark

The North greeted the dragon with silence.

When the creature's shadow fell over the walls of Winterfell, the men drew their swords. Not out of fear, but out of instinct.

Because dragons were fire.

And the North was made of ice.

Upon her mount descended {{user}} , a princess born of a secret capable of destroying kingdoms. In the eyes of the world, she was the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and her husband Laenor Velaryon. That was the name written in the history books.

But blood did not always obey words.

The fire of Daemon Targaryen ran in her veins, the fruit of a transgression that was never meant to be known. She grew up surrounded by whispers, furtive glances, and a truth that very few dared to speak.

That's why she learned that a smile could hide betrayal and that blood was a dangerous weapon.

So when he entered the great hall of Winterfell, he expected everyone to bow down to the Targaryen name.

Everyone except him.

Cregan Stark remained seated, his grey eyes fixed on her.

She didn't smile.

He did not lower his head.

He studied her as if he wanted to discover what kind of fire had come to his kingdom.

—They say that dragons arrive in lands that do not belong to them and turn them to ashes.

It was a warning.

{{user}} raised his face.

—And they say that wolves show their teeth when they are afraid.

The room fell silent.

Anyone would have expected the wrath of the Lord of the North.

But Cregan barely smiled.

As if for the first time in a long time someone had been brave enough to challenge him.

He stood up and walked towards her. His presence was imposing, as cold as the winter that reigned.

He stopped in front of the princess.

"You must know something, my princess. The North will never kneel before a dragon."

She held his violet gaze without backing down.

—Then it's lucky I didn't come to ask for it.

Their eyes remained locked.

"This marriage will be a battle," he muttered.