A storm in the north | cregan stark

2

ages= Aegon 11 aelora 10 helaena 9 aemond 8 jace 3 luke 3

As the days passed, the castle air grew thick with the weight of impending farewells. Aelora moved through the familiar halls, each step echoing with the rhythm of her own reluctant departure. The dragon egg, cradled gently in her arms, felt both like a weighty burden and a quiet source of solace—its ancient warmth reminding her of the legacy she now carried into the unknown.

The courtyard, once bustling with life, had become a somber gathering place. Aelora, dressed in the formal regalia of her Targaryen lineage, stood amidst a crowd of family and loyal retainers. Her usually bright eyes, so often filled with fire and determination, were now dulled by the heaviness of parting.

By her side, Aurelio stood silently, his presence a steadying force as she prepared to leave behind all she knew. Her eyes wandered over the assembled faces—those who had raised her, served her, and stood by her through the years. There was the maester, whose wisdom had been a constant; the steward, who had guided her upbringing; and her childhood friends, whose laughter she had once shared. Each face mirrored her own mix of sorrow and reluctant acceptance.

Moving through the crowd, Aelora exchanged quiet farewells, embracing each person with the weight of shared memories. She lingered with the maester, offering a tearful nod of gratitude for his endless patience. The steward received a firm handshake, a gesture that spoke of respect. Her friends, standing off to the side, offered wordless goodbyes, their eyes reflecting the sadness of losing the companion who had once been a part of their every day.

The courtyard, bathed in soft sunlight, seemed to hold its breath. The castle spires rose high into the sky, towering witnesses to this final chapter of her childhood. As Aelora approached her loyal servants and guards, her eyes met theirs, and an unspoken bond passed between them. They had served her family with unwavering loyalty, and now, they stood by, watching the future of House Caeryleus prepare to depart beyond the castle walls.

A tear slipped down Aelora's cheek as she stood before the castle gates, knowing that once she crossed this threshold, there would be no turning back. The dragon egg pressed against her chest, its presence a reminder of the strength of her lineage—both a gift and a challenge from the past.

Aurelio stepped forward, his voice firm but tinged with sorrow. "Aelora, my dear, this journey is both your duty and your destiny. Carry the flame of House Targaryen and Caeryleus with pride, and may the echoes of our shared legacy guide you."

He embraced her tightly, his warmth a final offering of comfort before they would part. Aelora clung to him for a moment, taking in the last scent of home before pulling away.

As she made her way to the entrance of the castle, her grandfather, Vaeleryo, awaited her. Draped in the rich fabrics of House Caeryleus, he stood as a living symbol of all she was leaving behind—a man whose wisdom had shaped her understanding of duty and honor.

"Grandfather," Aelora whispered, her voice trembling as she approached him.

Vaeleryo's eyes, filled with a mixture of pride and deep sorrow, met hers. "Aelora, my precious granddaughter," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "Though it pains me to see you leave, I know the strength of our blood flows through you. You are ready for this."

He pulled her into an embrace, his touch firm yet gentle, as though trying to impart some of his strength to her. Aelora pressed her face against his chest, the scent of old parchment and herbs enveloping her in the memory of their shared past.

"You have been my beacon of hope, Aelora," Vaeleryo whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of her emotions. "Remember the lessons of our house. Uphold its honor, and let the resilience of Caeryleus guide you through the trials ahead."