THE HOUSE OF DRAGON: THE FIRST AGE OF TARGARYEN

CHAPTER 4

The Great Hall of Winterfell was colder than Veronica had imagined, its stone walls stark and imposing. The flames from the torches lining the hall flickered weakly against the unrelenting chill that swept through the castle. At the center of the chamber, beneath a massive iron chandelier, Veronica Targaryen stood tall, her silver hair glinting in the dim light. Her presence alone seemed to command the attention of every man in the room.

Before her, seated upon the high dais, was Lord Aroen Stark. His eyes, sharp and calculating, followed her every move as she addressed the gathering of northern lords. The nobles whispered among themselves, their voices low but filled with suspicion.

"I've traveled far across the seas and skies," Veronica said, her voice ringing clear, cutting through the murmur like a blade. "I did not come to your land on a whim. You know the strength I bring with me—my dragons, my kin. Yet I come not for conquest, but for truth."

Lord Aroen leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed. "And what truth is that, Lady Targaryen?"

Veronica's gaze turned to the raven-black scroll she held in her gloved hand. Without breaking eye contact with the Stark lord, she tossed the sealed letter to him. The hall went silent as the scroll tumbled through the air and landed on the dais at his feet.

"A raven arrived in Valyria. It bore your sigil, Lord Aroen, and your seal," she said, the chill in her tone rivaling the frigid winds outside. "But I did not send for it. If this wasn't coming from you, then whom?"

The words echoed through the hall, heavy with accusation. Lord Aroen's eyes narrowed as he stooped to pick up the scroll. He broke the seal and unfurled it, his eyes scanning the contents. Every man in the room leaned in, straining to catch a glimpse of the letter that seemed to shake even the unyielding Stark lord.

"This..." he murmured, his voice trailing off as confusion flashed across his face. The hall erupted in murmurs as the other lords shifted uneasily, whispering to one another.

"What does it say, my lord?" called out one of the bannermen.

Lord Aroen's gaze locked onto Veronica's. "It speaks of darkness... a great death that sweeps across the land. A warning of a shadow that devours all life. But I did not write this," he said firmly, holding the letter up for all to see. "Someone has taken my seal and written these words."

Murmurs turned into laughter as one of the younger lords, seated near the back of the hall, scoffed openly. "Darkness? Shadows? Tales to frighten children, not men. And yet we gather here like fools to hear of a girl's visions."

The others chuckled nervously, except for Lord Aroen, whose gaze remained fixed on Veronica.

But she was unbothered. Veronica stepped forward, her steps unhurried yet purposeful. The lords fell silent as she made her way up the length of the hall, her eyes locking onto the man who had spoken. The guard at the man's side moved to block her path, a sword raised.

"Stay back!" he barked.

Lord Aroen raised a hand. "Stand down."

The guard hesitated, then slowly lowered his weapon, stepping aside. Veronica continued her approach until she stood before the mocking lord. Without a word, she reached out and seized his hand. The man flinched, but before he could pull away, her grip tightened like a vice.

"What are you—" he began, but his words were cut off as his eyes widened in horror.

A soft gasp rippled through the hall as the air around them seemed to shimmer. The laughter died, replaced by an eerie stillness. Slowly, the other lords rose from their seats, craning their necks to see what was happening.