Chapter Text
The day was clear, but the icy wind whipped as the landscape changed from green grass to white hills, snow-covered trees, hidden valleys, and the smell of crisp, fresh pine. As they approached Winterfell Castle, granite walls ranging from eighty to a hundred feet tall stood. Growing closer, the sprawling grounds could be seen as their dragons flew overhead, and the people of Wintertown gazed upwards. Lord Cregan Stark, the Warden of The North, prepared to greet his visitors.
Veyna Velaryon had dreams – nightmares, since the age of two and ten; Veyna’s dreams always began the same: peering into staggering snow- and ice-covered mountains with stunning snow-covered forest, but the beautiful landscape would abruptly morph into darkness and with it, a sense of dread washed over her. In the darkness, Venya could hear nothing; suddenly, a pale, gaunt figure silently moved past her. She didn’t move; she held her breath, fearing to draw the creature’s attention.
Suddenly, it turned, and Veyna was peering into inhumanly blue eyes that burned like ice; the creature’s mouth opened, and a sound like ice cracking came from within. Veyna, not religious, prayed to every God who would listen as she heard answering bone-chilling echoes from all directions. Then, the darkness was ablaze with fire so hot it could melt stone and turn flesh into ash, dragon fire. Veyna would always wake disoriented, covered in sweat, and terrified. She never told anyone of her dreams, fearing they would think her mad.
However, this didn’t stop Veyna from looking for answers. Much to the bemusement of the maesters of Driftmark, Veyna spent most of her time reading history books on the North. Veyna learned the names of the creatures in her dreams, Others or White Walkers. The books also revealed that the Others hailed from the Lands of Always Winter and that they descended upon Westeros during the Long Night. The Others wanted to end all living life in Westeros. Veyna felt her hands grow cold and her breath quicken. Why would she dream of this? Veyna had no answer.
The dreams continued to haunt Veyna throughout the years, but as her waking life became more troublesome and filled with grief, they were pushed to the back of her mind. Eventually, the dreams became distant memories. At nine and twenty, more turmoil entered Veyna’s and her family’s lives. The King was dead. With his passing, Otto Hightower and his daughter, the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, had usurped the Iron Throne from Rhaenyra, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.
As Veyna and her mother flew closer to Dragonstone, the salty sea air carried the distinct scent of smoke and brimstone rising from the volcanic peak of the Dragonmont. The distant echoes of dragons' roars reverberated through the air, signaling their proximity to the ancient seat of House Targaryen. As they approached, the colossal black stone dragons, intricately carved to form the outer walls of Dragonstone Castle, came into view. Despite having seen the castle numerous times before, Veyna couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the sight before her.
Veyna was stopped by the sound of Rhaenyra’s voice calling her name before she could leave The Chamber of the Painted Table. Veyna sat back down in her seat and faced Rhaenyra. They were both quiet for a time, wrapped in their thoughts. Veyna recalled simpler times spent in Rhaenyra’s presence when they were children and Laenor was still alive, and Veyna frequently flew between Dragonstone and Driftmark. Veyna visited less often after Laenor’s death and Rhaenyra’s marriage to Daemon. She wasn’t mad at Rhaenyra or Daemon, but Veyna would expect to see Laenor around corners or flying on Seasmoke, and she found it hard to see Daemon and not think of Laena.
Rhaenyra clasped Veyna’s hands, saying, “I have missed you.” Veyna smiled, “I have missed you too, Nyra.” “I do wish we could have reunited under better circumstances.” Rhaenyra squeezed her hands, “I as well, Vae.” Veyna took a calming breath and stated, “You’re worried about Jace and Luc.” Way to state the obvious, Veyna. Rhaenyra nodded and was quiet momentarily before looking back at Veyna, “That is why I have something to ask you. I would like for you to travel with Jacaerys. I know he is my oldest and heir, but I need him to have someone he can turn to. He will be dealing with two influential houses with stern leaders. I believe House Stark should honor their oath and give their support. However, I fear that Daemon’s disrespect of Lady Rhea Royce may affect the Vale’s decision to support my claim.” Veyna understood Rhaenyra’s concerns.
Daemon had been vocal about his distaste for Lady Rhea, calling her his Bronze Bitch, and his actions following her death had certainly not endured him to the people of the Vale. With Rhaenyra married to Daemon, Veyna could understand the Vale’s vacillation in supporting Rhaenyra. While Lady Jayne Arryn’s claim to the Vale rested on a female’s ability to inherit, her intense dislike of Daemon could cause her to remain neutral.
As for the North, Veyna wasn’t as sure as Rhaenyra about House Stark keeping their oath in the way Rhaenyra wanted. She knew the North valued honor, but they also cared for their people first—a good quality overall but not advantageous for Rhaenyra. If anything, Veyna could see Lord Stark claiming neutrality. In both scenarios, Rhaenyra could face neutral decisions, causing her claim to weaken.
These thoughts rushed through Veyna’s mind as she nodded at Rhaenyra with a mischievous smirk, “And another, larger dragon might help to sway their decision.” Rhaenyra, looking amused, just hummed in response. Veyna laughed, “I will accompany him, but let us hope Jace and I do not have to intimidate our potential allies.”
Jacaerys and Veyna’s departure preparations were underway; they would leave in a fortnight.
Veyna observed the landscape around her as light snow began to fall. It was beautiful, and although she was tired, Veyna wanted to explore. She could see the Glass Garden and the Godswood, which reportedly stretched three acres from where they stood. But first, introductions must be made before rest or exploration takes place. Turning, Jacaerys and Veyna walked towards Lord Cregan Stark. Lord Stark was young, younger than Veyna, perhaps three and twenty. He was tall and had an austere look about him; Veyna could see Ice, House Starks ancestral greatsword on his back. He certainly painted an imposing figure. Once closer, Veyna noticed he had grey eyes, like clouds on a stormy day.
Jacaerys closed the remaining distance between himself and Lord Cregan Stark, smiling, “Lord Stark.” “My Prince,” Cregan replied, bowing his head ever-so-slightly, “Welcome to Winterfell.”
“This is Lady Veyna Velaryon, my aunt,” Jacaerys stated, following Lord Stark’s gaze to Veyna.
“Lord Stark, it’s a pleasure meeting you,” Veyna smiled. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Veyna.” “Let me escort you both inside.” Cregan offered his arm for Veyna to take, and her smile became more genuine as she took Lord Stark’s offered arm.
Veyna observed the grey stone walls inside the Great Hall of Winterfell, which had narrow windows inset. The roof was pitched, and Veyna noted it was stained with smoke. At the head of the room is the House Stark seat, once the seat of the old Kings of the North. The chair was made of polished stone, and its massive arms had snarling direwolves carved into them. Veyna smiled to herself; she quite liked the architecture of Winterfell Castle.
“I will have the servants escort you both to your rooms so you may rest,” Cregan stated when they stopped in front of the lord’s door. “Thank you, Lord Stark, it has been a long journey,” Veyna replied with a polite incline of her head. “I hope you will find them to your liking, Lady Velaryon and Prince Jacaerys,” stated Cregan as two servants approached to take them to their rooms.
Once the servants had left, Veyna found herself in solitude, finally able to unwind and refresh after their long journey. As she took in her surroundings, she observed the room, which featured a large window offering a serene view of the Godswood. A crackling fireplace provided a warm and comforting ambiance while the bed beckoned with its layers of soft fur blankets. The floor boasted an array of intricately woven rugs, adding to the room's cozy atmosphere, and two elegantly carved chairs were placed in front of the fireplace. After cleaning herself up, Veyna decided to nap, which would help prepare her for the start of negotiations over dinner.
Veyna woke with a jolt and a scream caught in her throat; she had a nightmare. It had been years since she had this nightmare. Perhaps it’s because I’m in Winterfell. Veyna sat up and reached for the pitcher of water placed beside her bed, pouring herself a cup. Veyna knew better; the nightmare didn’t return “just” because she was in Winterfell. It felt oddly like a warning.