Baptism | Cregan Stark

eight

[please don't ghostread this book]

Aelyna had proved to be more than just Daemon's bastard daughter. She considered herself to be intelligent, willful, cunning and determined. But above all else a traveler. It had been years since she had set foot on Dragonstone, shortly after the consummations of Rhaenyra and Daemons wedding she left. She travelled the farthest corners of Westeros and found there was so much more to life than castles and nobility. Aelyna enriched herself with the cultures of Braavos before travelling North. However despite denying her shared traits with her father, wine had made it more evident as to who's kin she belonged to.

The North was everything she had imagined it be as a child. With winds so cold it could cut through her cheeks she rode on the back of Vermithor to Winterfell. Unfortunately shortly before her travel to Winterfell, she had started a fight in a tavern with the crudest of men in Long Lake. Despite her kindness of buying the entire tavern its ale and gin, she was met with the rudest of men who were too eager to see if she had silver hair bottom as she does on top. Aelyna was not called a spitfire by her father for no reason.

She held her own in the fight but not without mounting her dragon with some bruises of her own. 

A thunderous roar could be heard through the winds as Vermithor's shadow loomed over Winterfells castle. Crowds of small folk stood in their tracks as they witness the Old Kings dragon circle their home, his rider barely noticeable if not for her silver hair.

Bruised and half drunk Aelyna slid off of her dragon barely able to make twenty steps as her face mounted onto the thick blanket of snow. 

"What in seven hells?" Lord Stark muttered to himself as he found Vermithor shielding the princess with his wing. His own men too afraid to approach the dragon. It wasn't until the white snow became stained in blood that Cregan realized the princess was in dire need of help. Her dragon however refused to have his rider taken. 

Cregan the only man to dismount from his horse slowly approached the dragon. Vermithor the bronze fury, snarled at the Northern men. Cregan found himself frozen in his tracks when he saw the dragons' teeth. He would hardly have to take a bite before swallowing them all whole.

"Ugh...Vermithor... calm." Aelyna coughed clutching her side as she tried to sit up. Her hands stung from the cold temperature "Calm Vermithor. Be calm and gentle. Let them help." 

The princess spoke in a foreign language as she slowly stood to her feet. Aelyna managed to limp towards Lord Stark, though she could only make out his cloak. Her eyes bloodshot red and weary as she fell into Cregans arms. Nothing but her hands clutched his cloak as he picked her up in his arms and lead them to his horse.

Vermithor did not take this lightly. He opened his mouth and Lord Starks men cowered as the dragons throat had become engulfed in a brewing fire. The princess had raised her hand to the dragon 

"Vermithor, obey! Be calm and collected!" Aelyna wheezed as she looked over Cregans should. Her eyes met with her dragons, a shared look of understanding with the beast as he bowed his head to her. Cregan mounted his horse with Aelyna in front of him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck as he turned to one of his men 

"Call for the Maesters!"