The Forgotten Visenya (HOTD)(GOT)(Cregan Stark)

The Cold and the Flame

The sound of boots and hooves pounding against the ground echoed in a chaotic symphony as the Northern army arrived at King's Landing. Dust and dirt kicked up in clouds, mingling with the scent of horses, sweat, and cold steel. The men, hardened by the brutal winters of the North, had been ready to spill blood, to carve their path through the South and avenge the injustices committed against their queen.

But fate had cheated them of their moment of glory.

Lord Cregan Stark stood at the front of the army, his eyes dark and furious beneath the weight of his wolf-helm. The news had spread like wildfire among his men—the war was over. King Aegon II Targaryen was dead, poisoned, and no battle had been fought for his head. Peace was being sued for by Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake. The thrill of revenge, the anticipation of storming through Storm's End, Casterly Rock, and Oldtown with fire and steel had been extinguished in a single moment, leaving only cold disappointment in its place.

"These southerners are made of paper," one of his men grumbled. "We march all this way, and for what? To watch a coward die in his bed?"

Cregan did not respond to the complaints of his men. His jaw was clenched so tight he feared his teeth might crack. His fingers itched for his sword, his heart still filled with the bitterness of war. He had wanted to punish the realms that had dared to support Aegon II over Rhaenyra, his queen, and her rightful claim to the throne, the sister to his wife. He had wanted to make the South pay for the blood they had spilled, for the pain they had inflicted on Visenya.

Now, that chance had been taken from him.

The men who had followed him south—the childless, the homeless, the young warriors seeking honor and glory—had come with hope of battle. Some had left families behind, knowing they might not return. Others had nothing left but the sword on their back and the war in their blood. And now, after all that, there was no fight left to be had. The Southerners had folded like wet parchment, and the greens, who had supported Aegon, had either bent the knee or scattered into the shadows.

As they approached King's Landing, Cregan could see the city's gates wide open, welcoming them without a hint of resistance. His eyes narrowed, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. He could still feel the burn of Rhaenyra's death in his veins, the rage that had driven him south. Her screams echoed in his mind, her body burned by dragonfire as Aegon's Sunfyre tore her apart. Just as much as her screams consumed him, they warped and transformed into the screams and cries of his wife, a he knows the news of her death had to have reached the north by now. He knew she would be defeated and he wasn't there to hold or comfort her. She had been his queen, the dragon who stood against the realm, and now her legacy seemed to be washed away in the still waters of peace.