A storm in the north | cregan stark

Chapter one

83 A.C Alyssa Targaryen gives birth to her third child, Aegon Targaryen, a sick and weak child who would stay in his bed for years.

98 A.C Prince Baelon Targaryen sends his son Aegon, to the free city of Caelian under the protection of the Caeruleus family.

The House of Caeryleus was a Caelian banking family, that originated in the Valyrian Freehold and prospered gradually until it was able to fund the Caeryleus bank. This bank was one of the largest in the known world and facilitated the Caeryleus rise to political power in Caelian, although they officially remained citizens rather than monarchs until 90 A.C.
The Caeryleus' wealth and influence were initially derived from the textile trade guided by the wool guild of Caelian. Like other families ruling in Caelia, the Caeryleus dominated their city's government, were able to bring Caelia under their family's power, and created an environment in which art and humanism flourished.

99 A.C Aegon Targaryen and the heir of house Caeryleus, Aurelia, grew close thanks to their common interests and fantasies about traveling the known and unknown world

100 A.C Aegon Targaryen heals from his sickness and returns to his family in King's landing after promising Aurelia of house Caeryleus to marry her.

101 A.C Prince Baelon Targaryen dies of a burst belly.

102 A.C Prince Aegon Targaryen claims the Cannibal and flies back to Caelia to propose to Aurelia Caeryleus.

103 A.C Aegon Targaryen and Aurelia Caeryleus get married in Caelia and leave the city together to travel the mysteries of the world.

109 A.C Aurelia Caeryleus gives birth to Aelora Targaryen.

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"NOOO!" Aelora's high-pitched cry erupted from the depths of her throat, echoing through the corridor as her uncle's hands closed around her in playful capture. "N-No, please, ahaha, I w-won't p-paint hahaha on your cl-clothes ever ag-again, haha, p-please," she pleaded, her voice a delicate melody of laughter and genuine distress. Her entire body convulsed with giggles, betraying her futile attempt to maintain composure under her uncle's relentless tickling.

Her uncle, Aurelio, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, regarded her with a playful smile as he released his grip, well aware of her vulnerability to tickling. "Heh, gotcha, didn't I?" he chuckled, the warmth of familial affection evident in his tone.

Quick as a sprite, Aelora darted away, her small legs carrying her as fast as they could manage. Her heart pounded within her chest like the rhythmic beat of a drum, the lingering effects of their tickling interplay. Seeking refuge, she halted behind one of the many pillars that adorned the corridor, her petite frame partially concealed as she peeked back at her uncle.

Amusement danced in Aurelio's eyes as he shook his head, the echoes of his laughter still lingering on the long walls. Meanwhile, Aelora, a portrait of innocent mischief, maintained her hiding stance, the pillar casting a gentle shadow upon her contemplative expression.

A stern voice cut through the mirth, breaking the spell. "How many times have I told you not to color on my robes?" Aurelio chided, his tone a blend of mock severity and genuine exasperation. He loved his niece as if she were his own daughter, yet every day he was reminded of how much of a little rascal she was—reminiscent of himself and his sister during their childhood mischief around the palace.

Caught in her little styling escapade, Aelora stared at the stone pavement beneath her. The intricate patterns etched into the cold surface became the canvas for her introspection. The gravity of her actions settled in, mingling with the dust particles dancing in the air. "I just wanted to add a bit of flair to your wardrobe, Uncle," she mumbled, her voice a soft admission as she cautiously peeked out from behind the pillar, her eyes reflecting a mixture of innocence and defiance.