𝕌𝕟𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 | 𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜

☞︎𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

It wasn't long before our party arrived at the gates of Winterfell that I caught sight of the strong banners of the Starks sigil, a great grey direwolf.

I always admired the northerners and the powerful words of their houses. 'Winter is coming', 'Here we stand', and even those of the lesser house of Hornwood, a vassal of house Stark, 'Righteous in wrath'. All of them were better than those of the southerners, the golden roses of Tyrell who were 'Growing Strong', or 'Above the Rest' of house Mallister of the Riverlands. I repeated the words of my father's house often, but never truthfully. My mother's words meant more.

'Fire and Blood'.

As much as I would prefer to speak them openly, I knew it wouldn't be possible, my house, my true house, was destroyed long ago. And a Targaryen alone in the world is a sad and dangerous place. Even my hair had been dyed a darker colour so as to not raise any suspicions. My violet eyes were overlooked and so I wasn't forced to wear covers to hide them from the world.

The only things that allowed me to wear my house with pride were my dragon earrings that paired with my solitary ring that I wore on my delicate pointer finger.

Although, that wasn't all, my mother had left me her sword, named Silencer, that was passed on from mother to daughter in the Targaryen legacy. Most thought that my father simply had it forged for me by the smiths of casterly rock but really it was made hundreds of years before in old Valyria with Valyrian steel.

The clanking sounds of the guards armour was what brought me back to reality. I looked up and gasped softly when I saw the capital of the north.

It wasn't anything particularly spectacular, the walls were plain stones on top of stones, the roofs were dark coloured wood and walls were tightly built to withstand a siege. But, there was something beautiful about it. It could be the way the light layer of snow coated every part of it, or how the weak sunlight shined on it.

Most likely, it was the faint site of the red weirwood leaves in the further side. It was a rare sight to see them in the south, for we did not worship the old gods as the northerners did, meaning we had no need for them. I had only read about them in books, and the pictures did them no justice.

Ser Edmund chuckled from beside me. He, after all, had been to the north many times in the past, before he was entrusted with my safety. He had been born in White Harbor, many years ago, and it was clear that the North was still in his body, pumping through his veins.

"A beautiful sight to behold, the trees of weirwood." He told me, a nostalgic tone underlining his words. "Many southerners who venture this far north only see it as a cold and gloomy place, they never look past that to see the beauty in it all."

He turned away from his scan of the area and gazed down at me from the top of his stallion, a proud smile on his face. "You may not want to leave your family for a new one, but you will do well here, I'm sure of it my lady."

I looked at him with an amazed sparkle in my eyes. I knew that he missed the north very dearly, it showed every time that he spoke of it, his eyes would grow fond as if he were tasting the sweetest wine from Dorne, but now I could see just how much he loved his home country. At least he was happy to be here, although I wasn't completely certain of the area, it was reassuring that I had someone to protect me who knew of the dangers that lurked about.

I smiled gleefully at him. "You speak so kindly, Ser Edmund. I, too, have faith that I will grow to love it here." I sighed excitedly. "From all of the stories and tales that I have heard of your time here, I have much confidence that the north will become a home, much more than Kings Landing or Casterly Rock ever was."