Daenerys Stormborn was presented to King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, after Lord Stannis had found her and her deceased mother upon seizing control of Dragonstone- her elder brother, Viserys, had escaped with the aid of Ser Willem Darry. It seemed that the newborn princess would meet a violent end in the Red Keep, the same as her niece and nephew- but then, Lord Stark, King Robert's boyhood friend, spoke up. At first, none could believe what they had heard…
"What?" Robert Baratheon said flatly, staring at his foster brother.
Ned could feel the incredulous eyes of the court on him, but paid them no heed. The newborn baby in Stannis's arms was more important- as was Robert's Warhammer, still resting by the side of his throne.
"House Targaryen owes House Stark a bride, as decreed by the Pact of Ice and Fire your Grace." He said. "Made between Prince Jacaerys Velaryon on behalf of his mother, the Queen Rhaenyra, and the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark." He nodded at the child.
Robert's face was beginning to turn red with fury. "You want to marry your son to the Dragonspawn?" He repeated, fingers tightening on his hammer.
"I can't think of anything that would anger her ancestors more your grace." Ned said truthfully.
"To have her married to a Lord Paramount's heir?" Stannis bit out, as though Ned's words hurt him.
Ned shook his head. He could almost hear Aerys screams of fury at this plan, and his brother Brandon's wild laugh. "I fear my Lady wife would be furious with me were I to make Robb's marriage before I even meet the boy. No my lords, I have another son- Jon Snow."
Robert's hammer crashed to the floor, even as the court gasped behind them.
"A bastard for the Princess?" One foolhardy voice said.
Robert drew himself up and glared at the idiot- a Crownlander by the look. "The son of the Warden of the North for a dragonspawn? Bastard or not, the girl's blessed."
He turned to Ned. "Are you sure about this Ned?"
Ned nodded. "I propose having her fostered with one of my bannersmen, such as my Flint cousins. Once they are wed, they may take a name and sigil and become a vassal house. Lord Umber is among my most loyal bannersmen, and if Jon proves to have a good sword arm, then Last Hearth is always glad of new warriors."
He could see Robert thinking it through- having the youngest Targaryen fostered with a mountain clan, who Southerner's considered to be even more savage than the landed Houses of the North, and then having her become a vassal of House Umber- who, although great and loyal warriors, were neither wealthy or well connected. As far as the southern Noble Houses were concerned, House Umber was insignificant, and either unwilling or ill-placed to change that.
"I think a Frostfyre flower would do nicely as the sigil, whatever name they choose." Ned added. The autumn flower only bloomed in the North, not being found south of Moat Caitlin. Lyanna would have appreciated the pun better as a name, but that harkened to House Blackfyre. "Aerys would have hated it. His only living daughter becoming a vassal to a bannersman of the North. He'd prefer her dead, and you know it."
Finally, Robert laughed. "By the seven, he'd have cursed us all to hell and back for even thinking of it!"
And with that, Ned knew that the girl would live. Doubtless, her brother would be hunted across the Narrow Sea, wherever Ser Darry had taken him- but he'd saved one child today, and avenged his father and brother in a way that would let him sleep at night.
A fitting end for House Targaryen- not Fire and Blood, but Snow.