Renaissance: A new age

by Sarah F1992

AU story (Be warned) The once-great Valyria, an empire of dragons and sorcery, was believed to have been lost to the world in the fiery cataclysm of the Doom, four centuries past. But what if the Valyrian might, long thought destroyed and lost to the annals of time, were to suddenly reemerge onto the chessboard of power and politics that is the world of Game of Thrones

18. Chapter 18

Notes:

- VERY AU (Alternate Universe)
- Turin, Original character
- Some characters are out of character.

This is a story based on the Game of Thrones books and TV series, but be warned, it's a very AU (Alternate Universe) story. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy a story that deviates a lot from canon, where certain characters may act out of character, or if you're not a fan of romance with a good amount of fluff, and a story that ultimately has a happy ending, then this may not be the right story for you.

WINTERFELL COURTYARD 298 AC

Once they disembarked from the carriage that had transported them, Aelora Balaerys and Balemond Aekylosh stood just outside Winterfell. Their eyes were fixed on the massive stone walls and towering towers of the ancient castle. The moon bathed the castle in silver light, lending it an ethereal and mysterious quality. A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth.

Aelora wore a look of wonder on her face. "It's unlike anything we've ever seen," she murmured, her eyes tracing the walls. "The architecture here, it's so... different." She turned to her colleague from the Triarchy. "Can you feel it?"

Balemond nodded in agreement. "Yes," he replied in a deep, resonant voice. "The magic we've sensed since arriving in Westeros seems to intensify here."

Aelora closed her eyes briefly, absorbing her surroundings. "It's as if the very stones are infused with history and mystery. Almost everything we know about Winterfell and the North comes from the information Elaena has shared with us and the books my husband Jon Connington brought to Valyria. But to observe and feel all of this in person is truly marvelous and intriguing."

Balemond turned his gaze towards Winterfell, his expression thoughtful. "The books mention the natural hot springs beneath the castle, a marvel in itself. But I suspect there's more to it than that."

Aelora nodded in agreement. "Indeed," she replied, "the books do mention that Bran the Builder was known for his extraordinary knowledge of architecture. However, these books don't delve into the realm of magic, a piece of information we now possess thanks to Benjen Stark. We know that in the construction of the Wall, Bran utilized ice magic, and I can't help but wonder if, when he chose this site for the castle, he considered not only the hot springs but also the powerful magic that seems to permeate this place."

Balemond's thoughtful expression mirrored her own curiosity. "It's quite plausible," he added, "that Brandon the Builder, with his knowledge of both architecture and magic, saw Winterfell as more than just a fortress. It could have been designed to harness or amplify the magical energies of this land, adding an extra layer of protection or significance."

WINTERFELL GREAT HALL

"Oh, esteemed friends and noble lords and ladies of Winterfell and Highgarden," Marillion continued with deep reverence. He knew that, along with the Stark representatives, members of House Tyrell were also present. Therefore, his greeting needed to be both courteous and reverent. As a sign of respect, he offered a subtle nod of courtesy toward the area where Catelyn and Mace were seated.

The grand hall of Winterfell filled with eager anticipation as the wandering bard, prepared to continue his narrative. The flickering candle flames and the fading echoes of previous songs set the stage. However, before Marillion could strike another note, the hall fell into sudden silence, as if winter itself had descended.

The bard fell silent, his gaze wandering toward the hall's entrance. There was no need for an announcement; the presence of the newcomers burst forth like a storm in the tranquil atmosphere.

Ser Rodrick Cassell, master at arms, couldn't conceal his surprise and mixed emotions as he observed Benjen Stark approaching. His presence had been sorely missed in Winterfell, and the years of his absence had left an indelible mark on the Stark family. Lines of concern etched his face as he silently contemplated, 'Nine long years since you ventured to the Wall, Benjen, and yet you appear untouched by time. What secrets lie beyond the Wall that have kept you unchanged?'

Catelyn Stark and Mace Tyrell, who had maintained a calm demeanor until that moment, watched with curiosity and a hint of anxiety as they observed the group entering the great hall.

Catelyn Stark

She observed her husband, Ned, leading the group of guests with his usual composed demeanor, by his side was Lady Olenna Tyrell, who wore a knowing smile on her face. Also accompanying them was Benjen Stark, but what truly captivated her attention were the three figures who walked alongside them – two women and a man, all exuding an unmistakable air of nobility, their Valyrian features setting them apart. She noticed that one of the Valyrian women, the youngest one, was holding Benjen's hand, a subtle yet meaningful gesture that didn't escape her notice. A little further behind them came Lord Commander Mormont, a familiar presence from previous visits to Winterfell, along with an elderly maester, completing the group.

As Catelyn's gaze shifted once more to the three Valyrian figures accompanying Benjen, a sense of trepidation crept over her. Their presence in Westeros meant that profound changes could occur in the not-so-distant future, leaving her reflecting on how this would reshape the entire continent. Yet, as she observed the genuine happiness exuding from Benjen while he walked hand in hand with his wife, Elaena, Catelyn understood the paramount importance of forging alliances and nurturing unity in these ever-changing times.

She concluded, 'It is wiser to count the Valyrians as allies and kin by blood rather than adversaries,' acknowledging the immense strength that such bonds could offer both the Stark family and Westeros as a whole."

Mace Tyrell

Mace Tyrell, on the other hand, as he contemplated his mother walking alongside the valyrians, couldn't help but think of her shrewdness in orchestrating potential alliances. He knew well the political maneuvering that his mother was capable of. The thought of a marriage alliance between House Stark and House Tyrell seemed like a strategic masterstroke.

He couldn't help but ponder the potential implications. A possible alliance with House Stark through a marriage between Margaery and Robb would indirectly lead to an alliance with the Valyrians. This realization crossed Mace's mind."

Elaena Targaryen

As they walked,Elaena's eyes fell upon Eddard's children. In that instant, a profound sense of belonging washed over her, and she gently squeezed her husband's hand.

Eddard Stark

When they reached the main table, Eddard Stark briefly glanced at his wife and Mace Tyrell. After requesting silence from all those present in the Great Hall, he addressed the gathering. He noticed Lady Olenna positioning herself beside him, a clear signal that Highgarden supported what he was about to say.

"Esteemed lords and ladies of Highgarden, beloved denizens of Winterfell" he began "I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, want to inform you about several matters. Firstly, I wish to announce that my brother, Benjen Stark, who had been missing beyond the Wall for eight long years, has returned."

At that moment, applause erupted, cheers and joyful exclamations filled the air, and some even raised their cups in celebration. Eddard acknowledged the warm reception with a nod before continuing.

Secondly, our family has been blessed with two new members through the sacred bond of marriage—a union that was celebrated eight years ago beneath the towering branches of a heart tree, under the watchful gaze of the Old Gods. That day my brother Benjen pledged his heart and honor to Lady Elaena Stark. To Elaena, and to their precious daughter, Alyssane, I extend the warmest of welcomes into the the Stark family.

As he spoke, Eddard Stark noticed his brother Benjen reaching into a bag he was carrying. From it, he withdrew a maiden's cloak adorned with the Stark sigil. Before the eyes of all those present, he gently draped it over Elaena's shoulders, embracing her tenderly and planting a loving kiss upon her lips.

When the assembled guests beheld this heartfelt display, the hall once again resounded with cheers and jubilant shouts. At that moment, Lady Olenna Tyrell, reaching for a goblet on the main table, raised it for a toast and declared, "Let us seize this celebration to make it a joyful commemoration of the union between Benjen and Elaena."

Eddard couldn't help but notice the varied reactions among his children and Margaery Tyrell. Robb, standing tall beamed with a mixture of pride and curiosity as he looked at his long-lost uncle, now returned with a family of his own. Margaery , smiled warmly at Elaena and Benjen, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by her grandmother.

Sansa exchanged a knowing glance with her sister Arya. They were very young when their uncle had departed for the Wall. Now, seeing him in person, along with his wife, they couldn't help but be captivated by their presence. Arya, the more adventurous of the two, was already contemplating the stories and lessons her uncle and aunt could share.

Bran, though still young, observed with curiosity as his gaze shifted between Benjen and Elaena. The return of a long-lost family member brought a sense of intrigue and wonder to his young mind, and like Arya he couldn't wait to hear more about their adventures beyond the Wall.

Rickon, the youngest Stark, clapped his hands in excitement, mirroring the joyous atmosphere in the Great Hall. He may not fully understand the significance of his uncle's return, but he felt the contagious happiness that filled the room.

Eddard continued, "And finally, as you all know, fifteen years ago, news arrived from the distant lands of Essos. These tidings heralded the return of Valyria, a civilization which we believed had vanished into history nearly four centuries ago. Since then, silence was all that Westeros had heard from Valyria... until now."

Eddard paused, his gaze sweeping across the hall. It was silent, and all were listening intently. He briefly looked at his children once more, noting the mix of emotions and anticipation in their eyes.

"Contacts have already been established with representatives of Valyria. One of them is Lady Elaena Stark, wife of my brother and now I have the honor of introducing you all to Lady Aelora Balaerys, Lord Balemond Aekylosh, The three of them are senators of the Valyrian Freehold."

The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by Mace Tyrell, who rose from his seat, holding a glass high. "A toast to the representatives of Valyria," he proclaimed, his voice filled with hope and optimism. "May this be the beginning of a new era of friendship and cooperation."

Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell, stood next, raising his own glass. "As the heir to my father," Robb declared, his words filled with warmth and sincerity, "I also want to make a toast to the newcomers and extend a warm welcome to my uncle and aunt, Benjen and Elaena."

Eddard Stark's smile concealed the weight of his thoughts. While this part had been smoother than expected, he couldn't help but dwell on the challenges yet to come. His mind raced as he considered the repercussions of this gathering, knowing that word of it would soon reach the south. How would King Robert, his old friend, perceive this? Would he see it as an act of treachery?

Moreover, Eddard worried about the reactions of other powerful houses. He felt a modicum of relief knowing he had the support of the Tyrells of Highgarden, but the uncertain reactions of the Baratheons and Lannisters weighed heavily on him.

As he raised his glass for the toast, Eddard's thoughts lingered on the uncertain future, one where alliances would be tested and loyalties challenged. The unity he had sought to build within Winterfell was just the beginning, and the true test of his actions lay beyond these ancient walls, in a kingdom filled with intrigue.

After the newcomers had taken their seats at the head table, and proper introductions had been made, Catelyn turned to her husband with a furrowed brow, her concern evident in her voice.

"Where are Torrhen and Alyssane, Ned?" Her words carried a weight of unease, her gaze searching his eyes for reassurance or an explanation.

Eddard met her gaze, his eyes filled with a reassuring warmth as he replied, "Don't worry, Cat. They'll be here shortly. They're accompanying Jon, who wanted to make a brief visit to his mother first."

He noticed how his wife's expression changed, but not as before, when he mentioned Jon's name, Catelyn would turn cold with hints of anger. This time, her expression was one of shame and sadness.

"Will he ever be able to forgive me, Ned?" she asked.

"Time has the power to heal all wounds, Cat," Ned replied.

Eddard exchanged a few more words with his wife, Catelyn Stark, before he decided to make his way to where his children were seated. His heart swelled with pride and love for his family, and he wanted to share a special moment with them.

As he approached the table where his children were seated, Eddard's eyes fell upon each of them, his heart tightening with affection. There was Robb, the eldest and heir to Winterfell, with his strong and noble bearing. Sansa, the eldest daughter, embodied grace and beauty. Arya was spirited and adventurous, with a spark in her eyes that promised a world of possibilities. Bran, the thoughtful and inquisitive boy, sat there with an air of wisdom beyond his years. Rickon, the youngest, was a bundle of energy and enthusiasm.

Eddard smiled at each of them in turn before he leaned in to speak in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, would you mind joining me at the courtyard? Jory Cassel and Desmond are waiting for you there with a special gift sent by your brothers, Torrhen and Jon."

The children exchanged curious glances, their interest piqued by their father's request. Sansa, always the lady, stood gracefully. "I can't wait to see what presents our brothers sent to us," she said with a sweet smile.

Rickon was already halfway to the door, his eagerness beating the rest of them. "I can't wait!" he exclaimed, his boundless energy on full display.

Arya jumped up with enthusiasm. "I'm coming too!" she declared, her excitement palpable as she followed closely behind her older siblings.

Bran nodded and wheeled himself away from the table. "I'd like to see what our brothers have sent," he said thoughtfully, his eyes filled with intrigue.

Robb, ever the responsible elder brother, nodded and said, "Of course, Father. We'll go see what Jory and Desmond have for us."

As they made their way to the entrance, they were joined by Margaery Tyrell, who had been observing the scene with interest. She looked at Robb with a soft smile and asked, "May I accompany you, Robb?"

Robb, ever the gentleman, couldn't refuse such a request. He offered his arm to Margaery, and she took it gracefully. The two of them walked together, drawing the attention of onlookers with their elegant presence.

When they arrived at the courtyard, their eyes fell upon Jory Cassel and Desmond, who were waiting patiently with small leather pouches in their hands. Each pouch seemed to hold a secret, a surprise waiting to be unveiled.

Jory, with a warm smile, addressed the Stark children, "Your brothers, Torrhen and Jon, have sent you these gifts. They wanted you to have them."

With great anticipation, the Stark children gathered around Jory and Desmond, their eyes shining with curiosity. Jory and Desmond carefully unwrapped the pouches, revealing the precious contents within.

Sansa's eyes widened with wonder as she saw the furry bundle nestled in Jory's hands. It was a tiny direwolf pup, its fur a beautiful shade of grey, with eyes that sparkled like stars. The pup nuzzled against Sansa's hand, and she couldn't help but let out a delighted laugh. "A direwolf pup! Thank you, Torrhen, Jon," she whispered, her heart full of gratitude and love.

Arya's reaction was no less emotional. Her eyes filled with tears of joy as she cradled her own direwolf pup, its fur as soft as the finest silk. She pressed a gentle kiss to the pup's forehead, whispering words of endearment.

Rickon, couldn't contain his excitement. He held his direwolf pup close to his heart, his face lighting up with a radiant smile. "I've always wanted a direwolf!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with pure happiness.

Bran looked at his direwolf pup with a deep sense of connection. He knew that this pup would be his companion and confidant. "Thank you, Torrhen, Jon," he said quietly, his gaze filled with gratitude.

Margaery Tyrell, who had been observing Robb as he remained silent while gazing at his direwolf pup, gently placed her hand over Robb's where he cradled the little animal. Suddenly, their fingers intertwined as they both continued to caress the pup.

"This is a magnificent gift, Lord Robb," Margaery spoke softly, her voice filled with admiration. "The direwolf is the banner of House Stark."

Robb was momentarily taken aback by Margaery's words, and at that moment, he felt something stir in his heart. He smiled warmly at Margaery, and with their fingers still entwined, they continued to lovingly stroke the little pup.

Eddard Stark, watching from a distance, felt a profound sense of pride and contentment. His family was his greatest treasure, and witnessing his children so joyous and united warmed his heart. He approached them with a warm smile, his eyes shining with paternal love.

Eddard Stark stood before his children, his gaze shifting from one to the next, each of them cradling a direwolf pup. His expression was resolute, and his words carried the weight of responsibility.

"My sons and daughters," Eddard began, his voice unwavering, "I want each of you to grasp the responsibility that accompanies the gift you've received." He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with Robb's. Robb, remembering Margaery's words about the direwolves being the symbol of House Stark, felt a sense of duty weigh on his shoulders.

"These direwolf pups are no ordinary creatures," Robb began, addressing his younger siblings with a newfound gravitas. "They are the symbols of House Stark, our house, and they carry the legacy of our family. We must care for them with the utmost diligence and devotion because they represent who we are."

Sansa's eyes welled up with tears as she nodded, her voice trembling with emotion. "I promise to care for her with all my heart, Father, Robb."

Arya's grin widened, her spirit unyielding. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect my pup, Father, Robb."

Bran nodded, a sense of wonder in his gaze. "I'll learn alongside my pup, Father, Robb, and do my utmost to keep it safe."

Rickon's laughter echoed in the air as he tightly embraced his pup. "I'll ensure we grow together, Father, Robb"

As Robb finished speaking to his Siblings, a joyful shout interrupted the moment. "Uncle Benjen! Aunt Elaena!" Arya, who had already spotted them in the great hall, saw her long-lost uncle and his wife approaching. The tension gave way to a sense of reunion and anticipation.

Without a moment's hesitation, she sprinted toward them, her small legs carrying her swiftly across the courtyard. Her heart raced with anticipation, and a wide grin spread across her face as she reached Benjen and Elaena.

"Uncle Benjen!" Arya exclaimed with unrestrained joy as she threw her arms around him, embracing him tightly. It had been so long since she had seen him, and his return filled her with happiness beyond words.

Benjen, taken by surprise at first, quickly recovered and returned Arya's hug with equal warmth. He lifted her up in the air, spinning her around for a moment before setting her down. "Arya, you've grown so much!" he said with genuine amazement. "You were just a baby when I left, and now look at you."

Arya beamed up at her uncle, her eyes shining with adoration. "I missed you, Uncle Benjen."

As Arya greeted her uncle, the rest of the Stark children approached, curious to meet the newcomers. Benjen, a proud smile on his face, gestured toward his wife.

"Children, this is Lady Elaena Stark, my wife and companion for 8 years," he introduced her to them, his voice filled with warmth.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Elaena said warmly, her gaze pausing on Robb. "You must be Robb; you look exactly like Torrhen."

Robb stepped forward, a beautiful young lady beside him, and Benjen and Elaena quickly noticed her presence.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Robb replied courteously. "Thank you for your kind words, Aunt Elaena."

Robb, aware of his aunt and uncle's curiosity about Margaery, continued, "May I introduce Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Margaery," Elaena said, her words dripping with warmth and sincerity. But then, her curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't help but ask the question that had piqued her interest. "Are you, by any chance, the granddaughter of Lady Olenna Tyrell?"

Margaery replied with a graceful nod, "Yes, indeed. Lady Olenna Tyrell is my grandmother,"

"So, this is the reason behind the festivities," Benjen thought to himself as he observed Margaery Tyrell standing gracefully beside Robb Stark. For a brief moment, he found himself reminiscing about a time fifteen years ago when Catelyn Stark had arrived at Winterfell with newborn twins in tow.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him, and he couldn't help but draw parallels between the two moments in time. The presence of Margaery Tyrell, her grace and beauty, and the way she carried herself beside Robb were reminiscent of another time, another arrival that had left an indelible mark on Winterfell's history.

Back then, when Catelyn had entered Winterfell's gates as a young mother with her infant sons, the air had been thick with anticipation and uncertainty. The same could be said for Margaery's arrival now, her presence standing as a symbol of a new alliance between House Stark and House Tyrell.

Benjen's gaze lingered on Margaery and Robb as they she exchanged some words and he couldn't help but wondered how the future would unfurl for this new generation.

He then addressed them both simultaneously, "You've grown into quite the young lord, Robb. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Margaery Tyrell. I hope your stay in Winterfell is enjoyable."

Margaery smiled and replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Lord Benjen." She suddenly paused, her gaze drifting to Robb, and then continued, "Yes, my stay in Winterfell has been very good. Robb has been a wonderful host, showing me around Winterfell and introducing me to the beauty of the North."

As the lively chatter continued, Lady Margaery's eyes shimmered with curiosity as she observed her surroundings. The grandeur of Winterfell had already left an impression on her, and her gaze swept over the ancient stone walls and the snow-covered courtyard. "The North is unlike anything I've ever seen," she mused, her voice filled with genuine awe. "It's a land of true wonder, and I'm grateful to experience it alongside such gracious hosts."

"Her attention shifted again to Robb, who was cradling one of the direwolf pups in his arms. A warm smile graced her lips as she approached him, gently extending her hand to caress the furry creature. The pup nuzzled her hand affectionately, and a soft chuckle escaped her."

Seeing that the direwolf pups had already been given to each of his nieces and nephews and giving a quick glance to Eddard, who was observing, he spoke, "Robb, Sansa, Arya, Brandon, and Rickon, your father, Eddard, was right when he said you need to take good care of your direwolf pups. It's your job to look after them responsibly and patiently."

Sansa, who had maintained a somewhat reserved demeanor until that moment, observed her uncle Benjen and his wife with wide eyes. The ballad narrated by the bard just a few minutes ago, detailing the courageous encounter of two valiant heroes north of the Wall against the Wildlings, had piqued her curiosity. Her idealized view of the world, shaped by the songs and stories of knights and heroes she had heard since she was very young, left her with an insatiable desire to inquire if they were the brave souls from the song.

Drawing closer to where her aunt and uncle stood, Sansa executed a graceful curtsy, a testament to the meticulous training she had received on the comportment expected of noble ladies in the courts. Her voice, though gentle, carried a tone of polite enthusiasm as she addressed them, "Uncle Benjen, it is indeed a joyous occasion to behold you once more. And Aunt Elaena, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

In response, both Elaena and Benjen offered warm and courteous greetings. However, they couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between Sansa's refined demeanor and her spirited sister Arya. In that moment, Benjen thought, "My niece Sansa embodies the essence of a proper lady. One can readily discern the influence of Lady Catelyn and her diligent septa in her upbringing."

"Uncle Benjen, Aunt Elaena," she exclaimed with excitement, "before you arrived in the great hall, a bard sang an intriguing tale. It spoke of two valiant heroes, a crow and a Valyrian lady, who triumphed in battle against a band of savage wildlings."

Both listened with a hint of reservation, but they encouraged their niece to continue.

As Sansa recounted parts of the song, Benjen exchanged glances with his wife before he spoke, "What the song speaks of is true, my niece."

"It means that you are akin to the ancient heroes of old songs and tales, who vanquished wicked foes and saved damsels in distress," Sansa enthused, rushing to embrace Benjen and Elaena, who were somewhat taken aback.

Before Sansa could walk over to her father, Elaena gently took her by the arm and spoke with a tinge of sadness, "Please, dear niece, treasure the tales, but remember that the world is painted in shades far more complex than the songs portray..."

She hesitated for a moment and continued, " the world is more intricate than merely dividing people into heroes and villains."

Sansa took this lightly and skipped away merrily to where her father stood.

Brandon, who had been listening closely, couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "What's it truly like beyond the Wall, Uncle?"

Robb, his gaze serious, joined in. "Uncle Benjen, Aunt Elaena, do you have more stories about the lands beyond the Wall? We're eager to hear them!"

Benjen replied, "Robb, Brandon, Ely, and I have plenty of stories, and we'll share them with you all in due time. But first, let's go to the crypts. Torrhen and Jon are there, as well as my daughter Alyssane, whom I want you to meet, along with other Valyrian youth."

As the younger Starks headed toward their father, Benjen and Elaena were left alone for a moment. she turned to her husband with a sense of urgency in her eyes. "Ben, you must speak with your brother Eddard. It's crucial for him to impart a dose of reality to their children."

She pondered for a moment and added, "It is ultimately their father's decision, but I believe that his children, or at least the older ones, Robb, Torrhen, and Sansa, should attend tomorrow's meeting regarding the northern threat. As the Stark house motto goes, 'Winter is coming.'"

He responded with a solemn nod, his gaze momentarily distant as if pondering the weight of their current circumstances. "I shall have a word with my brother," Benjen said, his voice carrying a note of concern. "Sansa... she needs to confront the harsh realities that lie ahead.

OUTSIDE THE CRYPTS

"Do not be upset, Lady Daenerys," Samwell Tarly spoke with his trademark gentle demeanor, addressing the troubled Targaryen who had, until that moment, expressed her disagreement with not accompanying Jon to the crypt. "In the year I've known Jon, I believe I understand why he wishes to be alone at this moment. Visiting her tomb in solitude is his way of paying his respects."

Daenerys, touched by Samwell's words, replied, "You're right," she said, her voice steadier now. "He needs this time, and we should be here for him when he's ready to return."

Rhaenys Targaryen, the eldest of the Targaryen siblings, stood with a serene expression. "It's a moment of reflection and remembrance for my brother," she commented. "We should respect his solitude."

Aegon nodded in agreement, saying, "We'll give him the time he needs," his voice filled with understanding.

Alyssane Targaryen and Vaella Balaerys, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, observed that Torrhen was contemplating the entrance to the crypt with a respectful silence. They exchanged glances. Intrigued by the mention of the crypts in Winterfell, Vaella turned to him and asked, "Torrhen, would you be willing to share the history of the crypts with us?"

Torrhen smiled warmly, deeply touched by their genuine interest in his family's history. "Certainly, my ladies," he began, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "The crypts of Winterfell, as old as the castle itself, were built nearly eight thousand years ago by none other than Bran the Builder, a legendary figure in the family's history. They stand as a testament to the enduring legacy of House Stark, serving as silent witnesses to the passage of time, from the age of kings to our present day. These sacred vaults have endured through the rise and fall of monarchs, the shifting seasons, and the ever-unfolding tapestry of history. Even after Aegon's Conquest, when we ceased to be kings and became Wardens of the North, the tradition of the crypts persisted."

"Eight thousand years!" Alyssane exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. "How vast is this crypt?"

Torrhen replied with a sense of pride, "The crypts of Winterfell are larger than the castle itself, with the oldest Starks resting in deeper and darker levels. The lowest level is said to be partly collapsed, but the most recent tombs on the higher levels within the crypts are those of my grandfather, Lord Rickard Stark, and his children, Brandon and Lyanna, who met tragic ends. There are also some empty and unsealed tombs on this level, kept in anticipation of future members of House Stark."

Both Valyrian girls were truly humbled by the sheer magnitude of the crypts' history. Alyssane's curiosity led her to inquire further, "Are there specific tombs or tales that stand out, especially from the era of the Northern kings?"

Torrhen paused, as if summoning the spirits of the past, and then continued with deep reverence, "Among the most famous of my ancestors resting here is Brandon the Builder. This legendary Stark, who lived eight thousand years ago, was responsible for founding Winterfell and raising the Wall. He also led the forces of the North in the War for the Dawn against the White Walkers, leaving an indelible mark on our history."

As Torrhen spoke, he couldn't help but notice that everyone, not only Alyssane and Vaella, who were clearly captivated by his storytelling, but also Rhaenys, Aegon, Daenerys, and Samwell, were fully engaged in the tales of his ancestors.

"Other notable ancestors include Brandon the Breaker," Torrhen continued, his voice resonating with the weight of time, "who, in alliance with King Joramun, put an end to the Night's King's rule and liberated the Night's Watch from his tyranny. More recently, King Torrhen Stark, known as 'The King Who Knelt,' was the last King in the North before he knelt to King Aegon Targaryen during the conquest. And let us not forget Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North during the turbulent period of the Dance of the Dragons."

Rhaenys, who had been quietly taking in the rich history, spoke with a sense of wonder. "It's astonishing to think that these crypts have endured for so long, preserving the memories of your ancestors."

Crypts Jon

In the dimly lit crypts of Winterfell, Jon Snow stood alone before the statue of his mother, Lyanna Stark. The torchlight flickered, casting dancing shadows on the cold stone walls as Jon began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart felt heavy with the weight of the truth that had been revealed to him, a truth that had shaken the very foundation of his identity.

"Mother," Jon began, his words carrying a mixture of awe and uncertainty, "I've just learned the truth, and it's still sinking in. Eddard, the man I thought was my father, revealed everything to me. He did it to protect me from Robert Baratheon and the wrath of House Lannister."

His fingers brushed gently over the features of Lyanna's stone likeness, as if seeking solace from the mother he had never known. "I understand his reasons now, why he kept it all a secret. But it doesn't make it any easier to accept."

Jon paused, his breath forming misty clouds in the frigid air. "I carry the blood of the dragon, Mother. The legacy of House Targaryen, a dynasty that once ruled Westeros. It's a heavy burden to bear, and I don't know what to do with this newfound knowledge."

As he spoke, Jon's eyes seemed to search for answers in the unyielding stone eyes of the statue. "I've chosen to honor the Stark name, to uphold the honor instilled in me since childhood. But I can't deny the Targaryen blood that courses through my veins. The power of the dragons."

Lyanna's statue remained silent, her stone face frozen in time. Jon sighed, his breath mingling with the chill of the crypts. "I've taken my vows with the Night's Watch, and I'll uphold them. But I can't ignore the questions that haunt me, the mysteries of my past."

His voice grew softer, tinged with longing. "If I had known this secret earlier, I might have spoken more freely with Maester Aemon at the Night's Watch. He, too, carries the Targaryen name and understands the struggles that come with it."

In the solitude of the crypts, Jon felt both the weight of his destiny and the isolation of his journey. "Today, I also met several members of House Targaryen," Jon continued, his words flowing like a river of thoughts. "My brother and sister, Aegon and Rhaenys, my aunt Daenerys, and also Elaena and Alyssane. It's a strange feeling to be among those who share my blood but are still strangers to me."

He paused, his gaze fixed on Lyanna's statue as if seeking guidance from a long-lost mother. "Mother, I promise you this - I will make the most of this newfound knowledge. I will honor the legacies of both the Starks and the Targaryens. And I will strive to be the man you would be proud of."

Jon emerged from the crypts, his steps slow and contemplative. The weight of his newfound knowledge still pressed heavily upon him, but he couldn't dwell on it for long. Waiting for him in the dimly lit corridor were Daenerys, Torrhen, Aegon, Rhaenys, Samwell, Alyssane, and Vaella. They regarded him with concern and anticipation.

Rhaenys was the first to approach. Her eyes searched Jon's for any sign of distress. "Are you alright, little brother?" she asked with genuine worry as she pulled him into a warm embrace.

Jon returned the hug, finding comfort in the arms of his sister. "I'll be alright, Sis. It's just... a lot to take in."

Aegon, standing beside Rhaenys, offered Jon a supportive nod. "We're here for you, Brother," he said, his voice filled with empathy.

Daenerys, her silver hair glinting in the torchlight, took Jon's hand. "You don't have to face this alone," she reassured him.

Samwell chimed in with his gentle wisdom. "Sometimes, sharing the burden of knowledge can lighten the load."

Jon smiled at his best friend. "Thank you, Sam. I know I can always count on you, dear friend."

Alyssane, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. her presence was a testament to the unity of House Targaryen.

In this moment, Jon felt the strength of his newfound family, bound not just by blood but by understanding and support. The crypts may have held the secrets of the past, but here, in the present, he found solace.

As Jon and his Targaryen kin engaged in heartfelt conversations, their attention was suddenly drawn to the approach of several figures. Jon's eyes lit up, and a broad smile spread across his face as he recognized the approaching group.

"Rob, Sansa, Arya, Brandon, Rickon, how good to see you," Jon exclaimed with genuine joy, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Just as Jon spoke those words, the rest of the young Starks, led by Eddard, Benjen, and Elaena, arrived, converging on Jon. Robb, the eldest of the Stark children, embraced Jon first, clapping him on the back with a wide grin.

"Brother, it's been too long," he said with genuine warmth.

"It's good to see you too, Robb," Jon replied with a smile. He couldn't help but notice the direwolf pup that Robb now carried. "I see you've already received the pup."

"Yes, Jon, and I promise to take good care of him," Robb assured him.

Robb then turned to Margaery , who accompanied him, and introduced her with a warm smile. "Lady Margaery Tyrell, allow me to introduce you to Jon…. Jon Targaryen, son of my aunt Lyanna Stark, but in practice, another one of my brothers."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jon," Margaery said with courtesy, extending a polite hand.

Jon greeted Lady Margaery with a nod and a friendly smile, appreciating her grace and charm.

Aegon, overhearing this introduction, couldn't help but think, "Tyrell!" He observed Lady Margaery briefly, his gaze then shifting to Samwell Tarly. "The Tyrells, like the Tarlys, were also one of the houses that supported my father during the rebellion," he mused silently, a web of thoughts weaving through his mind.

In that moment, a sudden rush of emotions overwhelmed Jon as his youngest brother, Rickon, ran toward him and practically leaped into his arms. Jon, laughing with genuine delight, effortlessly scooped Rickon up.

As Jon placed Rickon back on the ground, he felt the warm embrace of three more people. Sansa, Arya, and Brandon surrounded him, their voices filled with emotion.

"We've missed you, brother," Sansa's voice quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Brandon, looked up at Jon with wide, admiring eyes, his voice held a sense of awe and longing. "It's incredible to have you back, Jon. I've been practicing with a wooden sword every day, hoping to be as brave as you someday."

Arya, who was never one to show vulnerability easily, held onto Jon tightly. "You better not leave us again," she said with a teasing tone that couldn't quite hide her relief.

Jon, still smiling, couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. "I wish I could, little sister," he thought in that moment.

Amidst the introductions, warm embraces, and heartfelt reunions, Eddard Stark, finally spoke up. "It's time we return to the Great Hall," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

WINTERFELL GREAT HALL

In the Great Hall of Winterfell, the air buzzed with animated conversation. Aelora Balaerys and Balemond Aekylosh were engrossed in the discussions led by Olenna, Mace, and Catelyn, who had taken it upon themselves to introduce the newcomers to the intricate web of great houses and politics in Westeros.

The Valyrians leaned in attentively, their faces reflecting their fascination as they delved into the rich tapestry of noble houses in this foreign land. Aelora's interest was particularly piqued when Catelyn mentioned her maiden name. "Tully, you say?" she inquired, her violet eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Is that your maiden name, Lady Catelyn?"

Catelyn responded with a warm smile, "Indeed, it is. I was born a Tully of Riverrun before I married into House Stark."

Balemond, who had been quietly observing the conversation, raised his wine goblet to his lips and then spoke with genuine interest, "And what of House Connington? How does it weave itself into the grand tapestry of Westeros?"

Before anyone could respond, the attention of the group was drawn to the entrance of the Great Hall. Catelyn, ever perceptive, noticed her children accompanied by Jon, Lady Margaery, a portly young man dressed in Night's Watch attire, and a trio of young Valyrians approaching.

Curiosity flickered in Catelyn and Mace's eyes as they exchanged glances, prompting Catelyn to lean in and inquire, "Who are they, Lady Aelora?"

Aelora smiled knowingly as she indicated the approaching group. "The two young ladies flanking Torrhen Stark are Alyssane Targaryen, daughter of Lady Elaena, and Vaella Balaerys, my niece. The other three Valyrians are Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, children of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, and Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of Aerys Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen."

Mace Tyrell's eyes widened at the mention of those names, particularly Aegon's. His presence had not gone unnoticed by him, and thoughts raced through his mind. "Aegon, the legitimate king," he mused, his curiosity piqued by the sight of the young Targaryen.

Sansa, who was accompanied by Aegon, couldn't help but notice her best friend Jeyne Poole watching her with a knowing smile. A blush crept onto Sansa's cheeks at the unspoken exchange.

Catelyn, who had initially been unsettled by the presence of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys Targaryen in Winterfell, felt a measure of relief as she observed her husband's calm demeanor. Ned had approached with a composed attitude and whispered in her ear, "Let's talk tonight, Cat."

Catelyn turned her gaze back to where her children were engaged in animated conversation with the Valyrians. She couldn't help but notice two of the young Valyrian girls gazing dreamily at her son Torrhen. "I know those looks," she sighed.

As the night wore on, the festivities continued in a smooth and harmonious manner. Eddard Stark observed the interactions around him, noticing the occasional glances that Catelyn cast toward Jon at the other table. He couldn't help but sense a hint of sadness in her eyes, a reflection of the complexities that weighed on her mind.

Despite the initial tension, the night unfolded without incident, and Eddard found himself grateful for the sense of unity that had prevailed. The bond between the Starks, Tyrells and the Valyrians was forged not only through blood but also through shared experiences and the understanding that, in times of uncertainty, family came first.

A FEW HOURS LATER

In the late hours of the night, after the festivities had drawn to a close and the Great Hall of Winterfell had grown quiet, Eddard Stark and his wife, Catelyn, found themselves in their chambers, facing a profound conversation. , one that hinted at the uncertainties that lay ahead.

Eddard's brow was furrowed with concern as he began, "Cat, you know I worry about what might come to pass if Robert were to learn of tonight's festivities."

Catelyn nodded, her own expression marked by anxiety. "Yes, Ned, I share your concern. Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen's presence here could become a grave issue."

Ned sighed, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the room. "But I am a man of honor, Cat. I cannot turn away from Jon, the son of my late sister Lyanna, and now Benjen, who is wed to Elaena Targaryen. There are blood ties between the Starks and the Targaryens, and family comes first."

He turned to Catelyn, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and worry. "Three hundred years ago, my ancestor Torrhen Stark knelt and pledged eternal loyalty to the Targaryens. It's a bond that still holds weight in the North."

Catelyn looked at her husband, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Does that mean you would support Aegon Targaryen if it came to that?"

Ned leaned in closer, his lips meeting hers in a soft, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled away, he whispered, "My love, some questions cannot be answered tonight. This is a matter we may have to face one day, but for now, let us find solace in each other's arms."

"Ned, before we retire for the night, I'd also like to talk about Torrhen," Catelyn began, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken concerns.

"Cat," Ned reply, his voice carrying a soft, reassuring tone as he leaned in closer to his wife, "your concern about Torrhen joining the Order of Maesters and the prospect of not having grandchildren from him... well, it might be coming to an end."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on her husband, waiting for him to continue.

Ned explained that he had previously granted permission for Vaella Balaerys and Alyssane Targaryen to get to know their son. He spoke with an air of understanding, knowing that Catelyn would have questions and perhaps reservations.

Seeing his wife surprise, Eddard pressed on, his voice soft but resolute. "Cat, I have also noticed how they look at our son. Like you, I can also recognize those looks, the same ones I saw between my sister Lyanna and Rhaegar at the Tournament at Harrenhal. They are the same looks I saw in my brother Brandon when he spoke of you."

Ned sighed, "I may not be as versed in Valyria as our son Torrhen, but I do know this: in their customs, it is allowed for a man to marry two women, and for a woman to marry two men."

"Are you aware of the identity of one of the young Valyrian girl's aunt?"

"Yes," he replied. "She is the niece of Lady Aelora Balaerys, from what Benjen and Lord Commander Mormont have told me. She is considered one of the most powerful figures in the known world, the head of the most influential Valyrian family."

Catelyn's brows furrowed as she processed the information. "And what do you think of all this, Ned?"

Ned's response was measured and pragmatic. "I believe it is advantageous to have such powerful support on our side."

With that, he extinguished the candle, shrouding them in darkness. In the quiet of their chamber, they shared the night in contemplation of the uncertain future, their thoughts filled with the complex web of alliances and family ties that surrounded them.

DAENERYS AND JON

Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen walked side by side through the quiet corridors of Winterfell. The festivities of the evening had come to an end, leaving an atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension between them. They found themselves at a point where Jon gestured toward the guest rooms allocated for the Valyrian visitors.

"This part of the castle holds the available rooms for the Valyrian guests," Jon informed her, his voice laced with an underlying unease. "I should continue on to my own quarters, the room I had before joining the Night's Watch."

Daenerys looked at him, her eyes reflecting a complex mixture of emotions. She stepped closer, and they shared a warm embrace. The connection between them was undeniable.

As they parted from the embrace, their faces lingered inches apart. In a moment of impulsive longing, Daenerys closed the gap, pressing her lips to Jon's. He was taken by surprise, but the kiss deepened, a silent admission of the feelings they had kept buried.

For a fleeting moment, they allowed themselves to succumb to the undeniable chemistry between them. The world faded away, and it was just the two of them.

But then, as quickly as it had begun, Jon pulled away, a sense of duty and restraint overwhelming him. "Good night, Danny," he murmured, his voice trembling with an intensity that mirrored his internal struggle.

He turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Daenerys standing there, her heart heavy with many emotions. She watched him disappear into the shadows, and her voice trembled as she whispered, "Jon," a mixture of longing and sadness in her tone.

THE NEXT MORNING WINTERFELL TRAINING GROUNDS

Several hours before the scheduled meeting, Eddard Stark, accompanied by Elaena,Benjen,Lord commander Mormont and Maester Aemon observed the scene with focused attention. In this moment, the training grounds were bustling with activity, as Robb, Torrhen, Jon, and Theon Greyjoy engaged in training with wooden swords. Simultaneously, Brandon practiced his archery skills under the watchful eyes of Ser Rodrick Cassell. The courtyard resounded with the rhythmic thud of wooden blades striking against each other as the Stark heirs diligently honed their combat skills.

They also noticed Arya a bit away from the training, trying to copy her brothers' movements with wooden swords, using a stick of her own.

"She reminds me so much of Lyanna," commented Benjen, who couldn't take his eyes off her.

However, it was not just the clash of wooden swords that filled the air. Simultaneously, the knights and squires who had arrived with the Tyrell delegation were practicing with steel swords. Their clangorous clashes added to the energetic atmosphere of the training grounds.

"you have improved your technique, Jon," thought Eddard, who at that moment observed Jon's movements, his footwork, how he wielded the sword, and the strikes he delivered.

At that moment, they were taken by surprise as Sansa, accompanied by Margaery Tyrell and Septa Mordane, approached the area where the boys were in the midst of their training. They notice Sansa engaging in a brief exchange with her brothers, gesturing towards the spot where her father and his companions were stationed.

With purpose, the Stark siblings, alongside Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy, and Septa Mordane, made their way toward Eddard and his accompanying group who were attentively observing the ongoing practice.

"Uncle Benjen, Aunt Elaena," Robb began, his tone respectful, "before we commence the meeting, if it pleases you, we would like to hear more about the encounter you had with the wildlings."

After a moment of silence, Lord Commander Mormont finally spoke, breaking the tension that hung in the air. "To hell with it, Elaena, Benjen," he said with a hint of resignation in his voice. "Tell them, if they're so eager to know. If your tale serves as a seed to grow the interest of the great houses of Westeros in the matters that unfold beyond the Wall, so be it." His words were firm, a reluctant acceptance of the necessity to share their story.

They started sharing their experiences beyond the Wall, beginning with the initial months leading up to the encounter with the wildlings. When Benjen described how he had sensed the approaching danger through a mental connection with Nightwing, a bird that had been observing the Free Folk, he noticed that both Lady Margaery and Septa Mordane, Southerners educated in the Faith of the Seven, were watching them with wide-eyed fascination.

Sansa Stark couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "What actions did you take when you saw the wildlings approaching?"

Elaena explained, "To protect ourselves, I used a circle of protective fire magic—a spell of ancient Valyrian origin."

"Can you show us, aunt?" Arya intervened enthusiastically, her curiosity piqued at that moment.

"Senator Targaryen, show them," commanded Balemond Aekylosh, the Triarch of Valyria, who had just arrived. He vividly recalled the five arduous years Elaena had dedicated to mastering Advanced Fire Magic, and he was eager to witness her expertise in action.

She surveyed the training ground, her gaze encompassing not only the representatives from Highgarden and Theon Greyjoy but everyone present. Thoughts raced through her mind at that moment.

"What does it matter?" she mused. "Sooner or later, our presence will become widely known throughout Westeros. The young Greyjoy seems to have a good relationship with my nephews,, but I'm well aware of the reputation of his father, Balon Greyjoy. Let news of this display of power reach his ears, and he'll understand who stands steadfastly behind House Stark, should he ever contemplate raising arms against us."

Elaena cast a meaningful glance at her husband before gently urging, "Come with me and stay close, Ben." As she said this, they both moved away from the others and positioned themselves in the middle of the training grounds. "Stay back," Elaena commanded with authority. With a focused expression, she began

Just as it had happened eight years ago, Elaena's violet eyes underwent another transformation, shifting to a deep crimson red. However, it was her profound change in demeanor and mannerisms that sent shivers down the spines of nearly everyone in attendance.

Her voice resonated with an unquestionable sense of command as she lifted it and extended her arms towards the sky, as if summoning mysterious supernatural forces to stand by her side

Following a brief moment of silence that appeared to halt time itself, a powerful roar echoed through the air. Their astonishment grew as they observed a ring of protective flames encircling the space where Elaena and Benjen were positioned, the flames dancing with fierce intensity. Inside this fiery enclosure, a flame shot skyward, ascending several meters before bursting forth. Within the fiery explosion, the conflagration assumed the form of a dragon.

"Theatrics and all, Bravo Elaena," Balemond Aekylosh thought at that moment, smirking as he observed the spectacle.

Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon exchanged looks. They believed this spell to be unlike any that Elaena had previously employed, or at least distinct from those they had observed since they had known her. This display was markedly different from the ones she had used within the confines of the Lord Commander's tower in castle black.

A palpable sense of aggressive energy now emanated from her. The tranquility that had surrounded her until that moment had dissipated, replaced by an undeniable aura of power.

"Better as family than as enemies. Now I understand what my ancestor Torrhen must have felt when he beheld the might of Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys," Lord Eddard Stark thought at that moment.

Those who were not Valyrians, with the exception of Benjen, watched in awe at this display of power. Jon, now deeply engrossed, inquired further, "W... what happened to the Free Folk after they witnessed your display of power?"

Benjen continued, "The Free Folk hesitated when they saw our strength. They charged at us, but their weapons proved no match for our Valyrian steel. Our blades effortlessly shattered their primitive weapons."

"Did you see if they had a leader?" Maester Aemon inquired, exchanging glances with Lord Commander Mormont.

"Yes," Benjen replied, "Even though we saw him from a distance, he stood out unmistakably. He was wearing a giant's skull as a helmet and armor crafted from bones."

Lord Commander Mormont interjected, recognizing the leader of the Free Folk from the description. "You encountered the 'Lord of Bones.' He is but one among many leaders the Night's Watch has encountered over the years."

Upon hearing that name, Sansa Stark shivered, and as she observed the reactions of the other attendees, she noticed that Lady Margaery shared a similar disquiet.

Eddard Stark pressed further, his tone laced with concern. "Did he pose an immediate threat?"

Elaena's expression turned somber, and her eyes held a hint of the tension that had filled the air during their encounter. "At that very moment, he and the remaining Free Folk did not engage in combat. They watched us from a distance.

They concluded their tale by saying that, through one of the Free Folk warriors, they had captured, they delivered a message to Mance Rayder. A message that they were not foes of the Free Folk, but if they faced further attacks, they would respond with equal aggression.

2 HOURS LATER

In a secluded corner of the courtyard, Margaery Tyrell found herself in the company of her grandmother, Olenna Tyrell, and her father, Mace Tyrell. The girl's vibrant brown eyes sparkled with curiosity as she listened intently to their hushed conversation.

"I still can't believe you're bringing me to this meeting, Grandmother," Margaery remarked, her voice tinged with both surprise and excitement. "I thought it was something only for the adults."

Olenna Tyrell regarded her granddaughter with a knowing smile. "My dear, we've been closely observing the proceedings," she replied, her voice as sharp as her gaze. "And it appears that even the younger generation is entangled in these matters. We wouldn't want you to miss out on such a pivotal event."

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Margaery's father, chimed in, "Your grandmother and I believe that you should be a part of this, Margaery. It's not merely about politics; it's about the very future of our realm."

Margaery nodded, her thoughts racing. She trusted her family's judgment implicitly, but the shroud of mystery surrounding the meeting had piqued her curiosity even further. "I shall endeavor to represent House Tyrell to the best of my ability, Father, Grandmother."

As the trio made their way into the grand hall of Winterfell, they were greeted by the sight of a diverse assembly of individuals—Starks, members of the Night's Watch, and the Valyrians. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and intrigue, setting the stage for a meeting that would shape the destiny of Westeros.

As the assembly gathered for the long-awaited meeting. Elaena Targaryen, Benjen Stark, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, Maester Aemon, Samwell Tarly, Eddard Stark, Catelyn Stark, Olenna Tyrell, Mace Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell, Robb Stark, Torrhen Stark, Sansa Stark, Alyssane Targaryen, Vaella Balaerys, Aelora Balaerys, Balemond Aekylosh, Ser Rodrick Cassel, Maester Luwin, Jon Snow/ Jaehaerys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen, and Rhaenys Targaryen were all present. The atmosphere was filled with curiosity, tension, and hope.

Jon, who had arrived early at the Great Hall noticed Daenerys approaching with a somewhat sorrowful expression. He endeavored to offer his warmest smile, and he observed a slight improvement in her demeanor. As she took a seat beside him, she gently caressed his face with her hand.

It had been decided that Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, was the appropriate person to commence the meeting. His imposing figure, cloaked in black wool, stood before the esteemed guests representing Houses Tyrell of Highgarden, Stark of Winterfell, and the Valyrians. With a solemn nod, he acknowledged their presence.

"First, allow me to express my pleasure in welcoming esteemed members of House Tyrell here today," Jeor Mormont began, his gaze shifting towards Lord Mace Tyrell, Lady Olenna Tyrell, and Lady Margaery Tyrell. "Your presence brings hope – hope that your attendance will serve as an example for other Southern houses to take notice of the events beyond the Wall."

After an exchange of pleasantries between Lord Mace Tyrell and Lord Commander Mormont, the latter, now addressing everyone present, began, his voice resonating in the spacious hall, "My lords and ladies, esteemed guests, I stand before you today to address a matter of paramount importance—one that concerns not just the Night's Watch but the entire realm of Westeros and probably the rest of the known world."

The room fell silent, and all eyes were fixed on the aging lord. The gravity of his words hung in the air like a heavy cloak.

"As many of you are aware," he continued, "the North has always faced threats from beyond the Wall. Wildlings and harsh winters have been our constant companions, and the Night's Watch has stood as the shield, defending the realm from these dangers. However, today, I must speak of a different peril, one we haven't faced for thousands of years. It surpasses the current defensive capabilities of the Night's Watch, and this threat has been gathering strength far to the north, beyond the lands of the Free Folk, in the land of always winter."

A murmur of curiosity and concern rippled through the assembly. Lord Tyrell leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Elaena Targaryen and Benjen Stark," Mormont declared, gesturing towards them, "will share their experiences beyond the Wall. Their firsthand accounts will illuminate the dangers we all face."

As Lord Commander concluded his introduction, a hush settled over the assembly. All eyes were fixed on the duo, eager to hear what they had witnessed beyond the Wall. Standing at the front of the gathering, Elaena and Benjen prepared to narrate their extraordinary journey. As they began to speak, the hall fell silent, and rapt attention enveloped them.

Elaena began, her voice unwavering and brimming with conviction. "For those unfamiliar with my lineage, I am Elaena Targaryen. However, I do not belong to the line of kings and princes descending from Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, as I've already shared with some of you," she nodded towards Jon and Samwell, who responded with appreciative nods of their own.

"Over four centuries ago, I was born in the heart of Valyria, long before Aegon's conquest," she paused for a moment, her gaze filled with affection as she glanced at her daughter Alyssane, who was watching her closely. Simultaneously, she gently placed a hand on her abdomen. "Unlike my brother Aenar and the rest of my family, who chose to leave Valyria and settle on Dragonstone due to the visions of my niece Daenys, known in the annals of Westeros history as Daenys the Dreamer, I decided not to follow in my family's footsteps to start a new life in Westeros but to continue living in my motherland. A decision I made for both myself and my daughter Alyssane, who was still in my womb at that time. We were the only Targaryens living on the peninsula when the event you Westerosi call 'the Doom' occurred."

Vaella Balaerys smiled as she observed Torrhen, her expression a mix of playful teasing and genuine seriousness. She whispered to him, "Torrhen, Alyssane and I have crossed oceans of time to find you. It was written in the stars." Torrhen, at that moment, returned her smile, then turned to Alyssane. His smile shifted into a more serious demeanor as he noticed Alyssane's intense gaze, her eyes seemingly trying to peer into the depths of his soul.

"Torrhen," she began, her tone earnest, "What Vaella says is true. It's destiny. If my mother had made a different choice, we might never have met. I would likely be in a tomb on Dragonstone, probably beside the grave of my cousin Daenys." In response to Torrhen's astonished look, Alyssane smirked at him and whispered in his ear, "Be glad for that, Torrhen. If that had happened, my spirit as a ghost would have flown from Dragonstone to Winterfell and haunted your room."

Meanwhile, Elaena, sensing that a multitude of questions were about to flood in, carried on, "I understand that in Westeros, there have been speculations and theories about how Valyria, which was believed to have been destroyed almost four hundred years ago, suddenly reemerged fifteen, almost sixteen years ago. I'd be delighted to delve into that, but let's save it for the night, over a fine glass of wine. For now, let's focus on the northern threat."

She paused, letting out a sigh. "I provided this introduction because I want all of you to know that, much like my niece Daenys and her descendant Aegon, whom you refer to as 'the Conqueror,' I, too, was born with the gift of visions. The reason for my journey to Westeros, nine years ago, stemmed from visions I had fifteen years ago in Valyria—visions that spoke of dark forces to the north of Westeros, forces that seek to extinguish all life in the world."

Then, Just as it had occurred a little over a month ago at Castle Black, Elaena and Benjen once more shared their remarkable experiences from the past eight years beyond the Wall. Their account started with their initial encounter with Leaf in the haunted forest and unfolded through all the events they had witnessed during their time north of the Wall.

As the tale unfolded, Margaery Tyrell couldn't contain her fascination. "The Children of the Forest," she whisper, her voice trembling with awe. "They are real¡"

Robb Stark, seated beside Margaery, couldn't help but notice her dreamy expression. "Margaery, you seem quite taken with the notion of the Children of the Forest."

Margaery, her brown eyes wide with wonder, nodded enthusiastically. "Some of my most cherished tales from the days of my childhood spoke of the Children of the Forest. But to know that they walk amongst us, is nothing short of awe-inspiring."

Daenerys, who had also been listening to the narrative with great curiosity, whispered to Jon, who was sitting beside her, "Someday, you and I will walk side by side in this haunted forest and contemplate its mysteries."

Benjen and Elaena concluded their narration with a solemn message, emphasizing that this was a message from Leaf not theirs. Leaf's message indicated that the Others, who had lain dormant for millennia, had now reawakened and it was time to prepare for war.

"In the heart of the unyielding North, this malevolence has patiently bided its time, gathering its strength. Now, it stands poised on the precipice of an assault upon the living," Benjen concluded, his voice carrying the weight of Leaf's ominous message. "It is not our words but a fervent plea from Leaf herself, that you consider the profound gravity of this warning."

As they spoke those words, the gravity of the situation pressed upon the room, and a palpable tension gripped the air. Concern etched lines on every face within the hall, and it was as though the very air had thickened with uncertainty and foreboding. The assembled guests couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of duty and impending doom that now hung over them all.

Eddard Stark, his face etched with concern, inquired, "In the message Leaf delivered to you, did she provide more information on how we should prepare for this impending war with the Others?"

"Yes," replied Benjen. "Leaf entrusted us with three missions."

"What are these missions?" asked Olenna Tyrell, her own worry evident.

"First and foremost, to inform the realms of men about the impending darkness that threatens us all," Elaena stated, her gaze meeting the astonished looks of those around her. "And that includes the Free Folk."

"Secondly, to assist in the preparations for the looming battle against this ancient and malevolent threat," Benjen added.

"And third," continued Benjen, "Leaf indicated that there are skilled people, chosen ones, destined to aid and stand alongside the prophesied prince or princess in the coming battle. These individuals will play an essential role in assisting the promised prince or princess in their ultimate task: to defeat the Great Other, the very deity of darkness responsible for the looming peril. Quaithe from the Shadow Lands, my wife Elaena and I are the first of these select ones, and it is our duty to identify them."

"How will you recognize them?" Maester Aemon inquired, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Maester Aemon, in that regard, Leaf was not entirely clear," Benjen replied. "She indicated that when the time comes, we will be able to identify them. What she did make clear is that these skilled individuals will manifest in two forms: skilled warriors proficient in combat and people with magical abilities."

"The God of Darkness, the Others, An Alliance of Gods, promised princes, children of the forest, prohibitions from gods,Selected Warriors, a shadowbinder sorcerer from Asshai, and rejuvenations—all of this reads like a maester's worst nightmare," remarked Maester Luwin, his brows furrowed deeply. "With all due respect, Lord Benjen and Lady Elaena, this account is quite fantastical."

His gaze briefly flickered toward Maester Aemon and then to the Valyrians present. He continued, "In the order of maesters, we are always taught to maintain a critical and analytical mindset. Although the official stance of the Citadel in Oldtown regarding magic in the world shifted fifteen years ago when Valyria reemerged, I still personally require evidence that powerful magical and supernatural forces are at play here in the North of Westeros, particularly beyond the Wall."

"Perhaps I can give you a demonstration, Maester Luwing," replied Benjen with a smile.

Aelora Balaerys, who had been listening to the conversation, smiled at Benjen and Elaena. "I would be eager to witness a demonstration of the magic you have learned beyond the Wall. Eight years should be more than sufficient time to have acquired more than a few tricks of that magic."

"The moment we have been waiting for after so many years," whispered Balemond Aekylosh to Aelora, who was expectantly waiting.

"Show them, my love," Elaena said affectionately as she gazed at her husband with pride.

At that moment, Benjen's eyes turned white. After a brief pause, the attendees noticed how the temperature in the Great Hall dropped. Simultaneously, from outside the hall, the nearby barking of dogs and the distant howling of wolves could be heard, intensifying the eerie atmosphere. Within the Great Hall, the scent of the forest, the freshness of recently fallen rain, and the earthy aroma of pines, willows, and other trees filled the air. It was as though these natural elements had woven themselves into the very fabric of the hall, blurring the boundaries between the interior and the untamed wilderness beyond. The sounds of birds and other woodland creatures, chirping and rustling, surrounded those within the hall, as if these creatures had come to life within its ancient walls, creating a magical and captivating atmosphere.

A hushed awe fell over the assembled guests as they watched the magical display unfold. It was as if they had been transported to another realm, one where the boundaries between reality and fantasy blurred, and the wonders of ancient mysticism came to life.

"Fascinating," Aelora Balaerys thought at that moment.

"Elaena, I would like to ask you something," Balemond Aekylosh commented, his attention fixed on her and her husband Benjen. "This type of magic, which I understand is called Ice and Forest magic, how much have you been able to develop your abilities in this type of magic? Are you at the same level as your husband?"

"Not at the same level, not even close" she replied. "According to what we learned from Leaf, the gods are selective with the magic they bestow upon mortals. The gods of the forest, in this case, favor individuals who are descendants of the First Men. As a daughter of Valyria, I can never reach the advanced level of this type of magic that Ben can."

"Does this mean..." Aelora interjected, her gaze now shifting between all the Stark members present and Lord Commander Mormont, who was also a Northerner. "Does this mean that all the inhabitants of the North of Westeros can acquire these abilities?"

"In theory, all the people of Westeros could potentially possess some level of these abilities," Elaena explained thoughtfully, her gaze sweeping across the assembled faces, her tone conveying a sense of shared discovery. "This applies even to those in the southern regions, where the First Men's bloodline still flows, albeit thinly compared to the North."

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly with a sense of significance. "However, when it comes to the advanced mastery that Ben has achieved, it's a different story," she continued, her voice carrying a weight of distinction. "Much like in Valyria, where only the forty Dragonrider families and the three families of the Triarchy could attain the highest echelons of Fire and Blood magic, the same principle holds true in Westeros. Only certain noble houses tracing their lineage back to the First Men can hope to reach such heights in Ice and Forest magic. These ancient Northern families include the Starks, Mormonts, Reeds, Umbers, Karstarks, and perhaps even a few prominent houses from the South, alongside a sprinkling of common folk who may possess these unique gifts. Leaf also shared with us that among the Free Folk, there are individuals who have honed these advanced abilities."

"Any other questions or concerns?" Elaena asked.

Olenna Tyrell rose from her seat. Her presence commanded attention, and all eyes turned toward her. Olenna's gaze moved across the assembled lords and ladies, and she spoke with authority.

"There is a matter that deeply concerns me," she began, her voice carrying a note of gravitas. "In the account of the Alliance of the Gods presented by Lady Elaena and Lord Benjen, there was a notable absence. Not once was the preeminent faith of the South, the Faith of the Seven, mentioned or considered. It troubles me to think that we are forging an alliance, the implications of which could reshape the future of Westeros, without acknowledging the faith that has long been the bedrock of the southern kingdoms."

Olenna paused, her keen eyes studying the reactions of those present. "As we plan for a united front against the impending threat from the North, we must also consider how this alliance will be perceived and accepted by the people of the South. The banners of the Old Gods and foreign deities from distant lands may pose a challenge to our efforts. We cannot ignore the importance of securing the support and blessing of the Faith of the Seven for this alliance to have the full backing of the Southern lords and the common folk."

Lord Mace Tyrell, who had been listening attentively, nodded in agreement. "Mother, you raise a valid concern. The Faith of the Seven holds significant sway in the South. If we wish to unite all of Westeros against the common threat, we must ensure that the Faith views this alliance favorably."

Catelyn Stark, a woman of faith herself, added her perspective. "As someone who follows the Faith of the Seven, I understand the importance of the Faith's endorsement. We should consider approaching the High Septon and the council known as the Most Devout to seek their blessings for this alliance. Their support could sway many hearts and minds in the South."

Maester Luwin and Maester Aemon exchanged thoughtful glances, recognizing the political and religious complexities at play. Olenna's concern highlighted the need for a strategic approach that considered the faith of the Southern kingdoms.

After making her compelling case about securing the support of the Faith of the Seven, Olenna Tyrell turned her attention to the Valyrians, especially Aelora Balaerys, curious about how Valyria handles religious matters in its vast empire and its colonies.

"Lady Aelora," Olenna inquired, "considering Valyria's history as an empire that encompasses various peoples with diverse religions and customs, how does the Valyrian state handle matters of faith and belief in its colonies?"

"As a representative of the Valyrian State, our primary concern with our former colonies lies in the collection of taxes and tribute," she began, her tone measured and diplomatic. "Valyria itself has a pantheon of many gods, and the inclusion of a few more deities from the colonies is of little consequence to our governance."

She continues, " We do not intervene in matters of faith as long as our interests are protected."

Olenna Tyrell, considering Aelora's response, decides to delve further. "Can you elaborate on how Valyria manages the religious diversity among its colonies? How does this policy of religious tolerance influence governance?"

"Lady Olenna is a woman I would love to engage in political discussions with," she thought at that moment. With a smile, she responded, "Valyria's approach has been pragmatic. We've allowed each colony to practice its native faith and customs as long as they pay their taxes and tribute."

At that moment, Lord Eddard Stark noticed that Maester Luwin's assistant, a young lad named Turin, entered the Great Hall in haste and whispered something to the maester. He observed as the maester approached him with a hushed tone.

"Lord Stark," the maester whispered, "I believe you should come with us. Two messages have arrived, one from King's Landing and another from Lysa Arryn."

"Eminent guests, please carry on with the meeting," Eddard said as he rose. "There are matters I must attend to at this moment."

Catelyn watched with concern as her husband hurriedly left the Great Hall, thinking, "What could have happened?"

Elaena, who had also noticed Lord Eddard's hurried departure, chose to press on. "What Lady Olenna says about the religious matter is undeniably true, and it poses a significant obstacle to the unity we desperately require at this moment," she asserted. Her words resonated with a sense of urgency that matched the gravity of the situation. "Lady Olenna, as a prominent figure among the great houses of the South and likely well-acquainted with the High Septon, what course of action would you recommend in our dealings with him and the council known as the Most Devout?"

Olenna, her lips curled into a sly smile, leaned in slightly. "It's quite simple, my dear," she replied with a knowing glint in her eye. "What every man in a position of power desires most: more power and influence. We shall arrange a meeting with him and key members of the council, allowing them to voice their demands and concerns."

"Lady Olenna, Lord Mace," interjected Aelora Balaerys, "assist us in this matter, and the Reach shall earn Valyria's gratitude, with all that it entails.

Olenna's face broke into a pleased smile as she leaned in closer. "Oh, I quite like the sound of that," she replied, her eyes sparkling with a newfound determination. "I'm delighted that we speak the same language."

Aelora smiled and said, "This marks the beginning of what I hope will be a fruitful collaboration. I propose that we have regular meetings, perhaps every fortnight, to refine these agreements and decisions."

How could we manage meetings like this one when we'll be so far apart?" Lord Mance Tyrell asked skeptically.

"Lord Mance, trust in the magic of Valyria," Elaena replied. "We have ways of communicating instantly, even when separated by thousands of leagues."

"Is that truly possible?" Lady Olenna Tyrell chimed in.

"Yes, esteemed Lady Olenna," Balemond Aekylosh commented. "After this meeting, we will perform a small magical ceremony involving mirrors. These mirrors will enable us to establish communications with you, even when you are in Westeros, and we are back in Valyria."

As the discussion continued, the focus shifted to the Free Folk, the wildlings who inhabited the lands beyond the Wall.

Lord Commander Mormont, with a deep-rooted curiosity honed over years of defending the Wall, leaned forward in his seat. "Tell us about the Wildlings," he requested, his voice carrying the weight of countless encounters between the Night's Watch and the wildlings. "What have you learned during your time beyond the Wall?"

Benjen and his wife exchanged a meaningful look before he began, his voice carrying the weight of concern. "We've come to believe that the Free Folk, as they prefer to be called, are not an enemy of the seven kingdoms. They are a people struggling to survive, much like us."

He continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembly. "Here in this gathering, we've already reached some agreements, and that's a positive step. However, many of these efforts may be in vain if we don't address the issue of the Free Folk."

Elaena nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting determination. "The Wall was not erected to keep out the Free folk, who are, after all, men and women like us. It was built to defend against a far greater evil, of which we have already spoken in this assembly."

After his wife finished speaking, Benjen continued, his voice resonating with empathy and understanding. "Beyond the Wall," he began, "we encountered the Free Folk—a people who have endured the harshest of existences for generations. The vast majority of them are not the villains of the old tales used to frighten children in their beds."

He paused for a heartfelt moment, his gaze briefly resting on Sansa, before he continued, "Instead, they are individuals who have had the misfortune of being born into a land where every day is a battle for survival."

Lord Mace Tyrell leaned forward, a hint of skepticism evident on his face. "Survival, you say? But we've heard tales of Wildlings raiding villages and attacking our people."

Benjen Stark nodded solemnly, fully grasping the concern that lingered in the air. "Indeed, there have been instances of Wildling groups resorting to raiding, but it's essential to recognize that such actions often stem from sheer desperation. Except for the initial hostile encounter we had with one such band at the beginning of our journey ," he began, his voice carrying the weight of experience, "as we ventured deeper into their lands, what we found was more fear than aggression."

His gaze shifted from person to person in the assembly, his words resonating with the solemnity of the moment. "The Free Folk fear what is coming from the Land of Always Winter just as much as we do."

"In the words of my house motto, 'Winter is coming,'" Benjen continued, "and this time, it's a winter unlike any other. We must ensure we are prepared for the challenges that lie ahead and seek out as many allies as we can gather."

Elaena turned her gaze away from Benjen and toward the attentive assembly, her eyes reflecting a complex blend of determination and concern. "We find ourselves at a crossroads, a pivotal juncture in the history of these lands," she began, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. "The Free Folk, once viewed as adversaries, now stand as potential allies in the face of a real threat—a menace that knows no compassion."

"Our choice is clear," she continued, her words resonating with conviction, "Should we turn our backs on them, they will become lifeless pawns, conscripted to swell the ranks of the Others' unholy army. Extend to them a hand of friendship, offer resources or new lands to sustain them, and we have the opportunity to transform potential foes into steadfast allies."

Aelora Balaerys suggested, "Perhaps a meeting with Mance Rayder and the Wildlings is in order."

Lord Commander Mormont, who still held onto his skepticism, spoke next. "And what assurances do we have that they will accept our help?"

"Lord Commander," Maester Aemon chimed in, "perhaps an old ally from beyond the Wall could facilitate the contacts for such a meeting."

"Craster!" Mormont exclaimed with a hint of incredulity. He noticed Jon and Samwell both looking at Maester Aemon with wide eyes.

"I know the term 'ally' might be somewhat exaggerated," Aemon admitted. "And I'm well aware of the kind of man he is. However, in the past, he has proven to be of great assistance to the Rangers. For this mission, if we offer generous gifts, he might be able to establish a connection with Mance."

At that moment, Aemon turned his gaze back to Jon. "Nephew, sometimes one must get their hands dirty to achieve a greater good."

"Who among those gathered here is in agreement with this proposal?" Lord Commander Mormont asked at that moment, his voice resonating with gravitas, his gaze swept across those assembled, his attention unwavering.

Lord Commander Mormont, observing unanimous support for the proposal, spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. "In two days, I must depart for Castle Black. There are three rangers who haven't reported in for more than a month. I will make the preparations to send a delegation to speak with Craster."

"Jon, Samwell," he continued, his tone carrying a hint of sternness, "you will be a part of that mission. Make the most of these days here in Winterfell, for we depart in two days."

Jon felt the weight of the decision and the eyes of both his old family, the Starks, and his new family, the Targaryens, upon him. He noticed Daenerys' eyes moistening, reflecting the emotions that welled up in the room.

"Lord Commander, with your permission, Ben and I would like to accompany them on this mission," Elaena spoke up at that moment, her voice carrying determination and purpose. "Our experience beyond the Wall could prove valuable, and as Leaf told us, our mission here is to aid and secure allies in the impending war."

"So be it," Lord Commander replied, acknowledging the request.

"I will go as well," Daenerys stated, her voice unwavering and resolute. At that moment, all those present fell silent, their eyes fixed on her, realizing the significance of her decision.

Elaena cast a nervous glance towards Daenerys, on the verge of saying something to her. However, before she could speak, a hushed murmur swept through the Great Hall, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. Lord Eddard Stark had returned, his face pale and filled with a deep sense of dread. He took his seat beside his wife, Catelyn, who regarded him with a mixture of concern and worry.

Clearing his throat, Lord Eddard addressed the gathered assembly, his voice quivering with unease. "I have received a raven from King's Landing. King Robert is dead, and Lord Arryn has been arrested on charges of treason."

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of the news sinking in. The world as they knew it had just shifted, and the uncertainty of the future loomed over Winterfell like a dark cloud. Eddard's eyes met Catelyn's, and he uttered, "Cat."

Catelyn's response was nervous and filled with worry. "L...Lysa and the children."