It was one thing to hatch and keep a dragon: the logistics were quite another. How would he adapt to the cold, for he was a beast of fire? Should they introduce him to the northern lords in his current state? How would these proud, grizzled men of the North react to a timid dragon? And of more import, how would the dragon react to them?

Blizzard's timidness was sweet, and once upon a time, Sansa would have wanted to keep him as he was: gentle and curious. But Sansa was no longer that little girl, her head full of dreams. She was a woman wed and bedded, and in love with her husband. Mayhap dreams sometimes come true, but Blizzard was a dragon, and over time, he would grow to be a fearsome beast, much like his counterparts in Essos.

Sansa knew they needed to move Blizzard to the Godswood as soon as possible, yet that came with its own complications. In two nights, there would be a wedding between Theon and Ygritte. How would a dragon fit into the plan? She was certain Blizzard could not stay in their chambers; he was far too large.

All these thoughts ran through her mind before she decided. "We need to tell the northern lords now. It cannot wait. Blizzard will need feeding and supervising, and this cannot be done in these chambers."

Jon took her hand and smiled at her. "He wants to go to the Godswood. He needs to go there. It is the source of his magic. He will grow strong and true near the weirwood tree. We cannot wait long to move him. He will grow every day."

Her father nodded his head. "I will call for the lords to meet in the Great Hall within the hour." He left to organize the meeting.

Many of the lords would soon congregate in the Great Hall to break their fast, so it should not inconvenience them, Sansa thought.

Robb sat on the bed, scratching Ghost's chin. "How are the direwolves with him?"

"Like siblings," Jon replied.

Sansa had an idea. "I'm sure all the wolves will want to supervise him. We have five wolves; when we cannot be there, at least one can keep him company."

"Until he wants one for dinner," Robb snorted.

"I don't think he will," Jon said. "I'm bonded with him. He sees them as his siblings. I suspect he will feel the same with the other direwolves. Greywind spent a lot of time with the egg in Queenscrown; Blizzard will recognise his presence like he did with Ghost and Lady."

"Nymeria spent time in our chambers, occasionally guarding the egg," Sansa added.

"Then we can add her to the list of adoptive siblings. Blizzard will be familiar with those four direwolves. They will be helpful in raising him while he is vulnerable,"

"First, we wait until the lords are gathered in the Great Hall," her mother said.

The rest of the time was spent waiting and fussing over the baby dragon while the northern lords congregated in the Great Hall, ready for the announcement.

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Sansa's father had returned to tell them the Lords were waiting for them in the Great Hall. All staff had been cleared along the route the ante-chamber next to the Great Hall, where she would wait with Blizzard while he was being introduced. However, there was one initial complication, which Robb had already noted. How in the seven hells was Blizzard supposed to get down the stairs?

Jon led the way, encouraging the baby dragon to follow him. The curiosity on Blizzard's face was adorable. With some trepidation, he placed one unsteady claw in front of the other, his confidence growing with each step.

Once they got to the top of the steps leading down to the courtyard, Jon made his way down to the bottom, just in case anything happened. Sansa stood beside the dragon, who appeared small and fragile, compared to how he had been inside the room. His wings were paper thin, the scales could be damaged with ease. She wanted to hold him as he shuffled along, but she knew if he fell, he would take her with him.

Much to the surprise of Sansa, Blizzard jumped down the first step, although he appeared hesitant. He turned his head to look for approval. Sansa nodded at him to give him encouragement. She hoped he would understand the meaning.

Blizzard must have understood her nod, as he jumped down the next step. With caution, Sansa followed him. He took the next one, growing with confidence each time, somewhat settling Sansa's fears of him falling.

Twelve steps later, and they were a quarter of the way down. The little dragon had speeded up, and with her long skirts, was moving faster than Sansa. That confidence was premature, as on the following step, he missed his footing.

Blizzard emitted a loud squeal as he tumbled down the rest of the stairs. The direwolves flew past her, as did Robb. Sansa picked up her skirts and descended the stairs as fast as she could, her mother following behind her.

By the time Sansa reached the bottom, Jon was nursing a distressed dragon, while she was breathless and only just able to get the words out.

"Is he alright?"

The dragon whimpered and nuzzled his head up to her stomach like an injured child.

"I think his pride is more wounded than anything else," Jon laughed.

Sansa stroked Blizzard down the side of the face. "Are you alright?" she asked in a soft voice. The dragon purred, happy to be held by her.

"See. He's fine. Now let's show him off," Robb said, leading the way to the ante-chamber.

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Sansa, Jon and the direwolves watched on from the door of the ante-chamber as her father addressed to northern Lords. Her mother and Robb had joined him at the high table.

"My Lords and Ladies," her father started. "I have gathered you here regarding a matter of the utmost urgency. I would have preferred to wait a little while to break this to you, but alas, circumstances dictate otherwise."

"More bad news?" Lord Cerwyn asked.

"It depends on how you look at it," Sansa saw her father smile. "I see it as a blessing. It will be of great use to us in the wars to come," he explained to his audience before turning to Jon and Sansa to bring Blizzard out to meet the audience.

"Do not be afraid or make too much noise," Lord Stark warned.

The direwolves led the way, followed by Jon and Sansa, with Blizzard in the middle, taking in his new environment with all the wonder of a child.

A gasp of shock rippled around the room. Sansa knew most of it stemmed from fear. She hoped once they got accustomed to the idea of having a dragon on their side, they would realise it gave them an edge over the Lannisters, although not over Daenerys, unless Blizzard grew faster than her three dragons.

Her father bowed his head, as did Robb, while her mother curtseyed. A show of deference for their future King. The rest of the room, too shocked to remember their courtesies, joined the Warden of the North with bows and curtseys.

"This is Blizzard," Jon gestured to the dragon who was pressed up against Sansa like a child.

She stroked his head. "He's a little shy right now."

"What use is a shy dragon?" Greatjon Umber laughed.

"My Lord, he might be shy now, but he has good reason. He cannot walk well, he cannot fly, nor can he breathe fire. He is at his most vulnerable," Jon said.

"Blizzard is less than a day old," Sansa added. "Once he breathes fire, your view will change."

"And when will that be, your grace?" Rickard Karstark asked.

Jon took a deep breath. "That is a question I cannot answer. I have studied the books which tell the tale of dragons hatching. No book can tell me anything about Blizzard, for he is unlike any other dragon. He is already five times the size of a normal hatchling."

The hall fell silent, as all pairs of eyes fell on the baby dragon, which was pressed up against her, warming her leg.

"Why is he different?" Lord Manderly asked.

"He is favoured by the old gods. His egg was discovered near the wall. A structure which contains the strongest of magic. The magic of Brandon the builder and from the old gods. The dragon needed help from the weirwood tree to hatch. He is a true northern dragon, given to us by the old gods," Jon told them.

A murmur of approval spread across the room.

"What does he eat?" Medger Cerwyn asked.

"Roast mutton," Sansa replied to a ripple of laughter around the room.

"This is no laughing matter, my Lords," Jon's voice was firm as he addressed those in the room. "Tywin Lannister will use everything he has to fight us. Right now, Daenerys Targaryen has three dragons in the east. Do you think she intends to stay there?"

"Are you suggesting another dance of dragons?" Maege Mormont asked.

Jon shrugged. "Let us hope it does not come to that. But if it does, we need Blizzard to be big and strong as possible. He needs to be greater than her three dragons combined."

"Do you intend to ride him?" Lord Cerwyn asked.

"Aye, I do," Jon replied. "While I was in the south, I visited Dragonstone. Most things from my ancestors has either been destroyed or placed in locked rooms. It was fortunate I was able to open these rooms, for I discovered many books. One described the saddles, which were fitted to dragons. I intend to ask the saddler to look upon the designs and have one made."

"How do we know he won't fly around burning our livestock and children?" Maege Mormont asked.

"Blizzard and I are bonded, Jon replied. "I won't let him, just as I don't let Ghost hurt people. He would I willed it, as would all of our direwolves. But we are amongst friends, are we not? I see no reason for concern."

It was at that moment, Greywind edged over to Blizzard and sniffed him. The dragon sniffed him back, as if he were deciding whether Greywind was friend or foe. When both were satisfied neither of them were enemies, Greywind sat beside Blizzard in the same protective manner as Ghost and Lady. Only Nymeria and Shaggydog were left to meet the dragon.

"Where do you intend to keep Blizzard?" Theon asked.

"In the Godswood," Sansa replied. "Fear not, he won't interfere with your wedding plans."

"And who will look after him?" Tormund asked.

"Blizzard will be guarded by the direwolves. He will also receive regular visits from myself, Queen Sansa, Lord and Lady Stark, Lord Robb, and others who will be trusted and are not concerned about returning to their keeps," Jon replied. "Dragons grow fast, he may not be in the Godswood for long. We can only hope he will be ready to drive fear into our enemies when we march south."

Sansa knew this was a precarious moment, for the northern Lords had not bent the knee as such. They had not discussed the possibility of them not fighting for Jon, as they had assumed they would be loyal to her father. Sansa realised she wasn't the only one to think along those lines. As her father stood.

"My Lords and Ladies, if you had any doubts about Jon's lineage before, then him hatching a dragon should quash them. He is the son of my sister and Rhaegar Targaryen. He has more right to the Iron Throne than the bastards who claim to be Baratheons. Will you bend the knee, like I have, to a northern Targaryen, with a northern dragon?" her father asked. "I beseech you all to pledge you allegiance to the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Aegon Targaryen."

"The Free Folk don't kneel, but we follow strength. Your Southron King saved the Free Folk. We will do right by him," Tormund nodded his head in agreement. Sansa knew that was the closest to swearing fealty they would get from Tormund.

Greatjon Umber was the first to stand. "Why should a Southron king rule over me and mine, who is a bastard puppet of his grandfather? A man who shits gold in a privy in Kings Landing. What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. Let the Others take the Lannisters, I've had a bellyful of them."

The Lord of Last Hearth drew his two-handed greatsword. "It was the dragons we married when Torrhen Stark bent the knee. It was a dragon who wed a northern lass, the late Lyanna Stark. We thought the dragons to be dead!" He pointed at Jon with the blade. "There stands a northern dragon, with the proof of his lineage right beside him. He is the only southron king I will bow my knee to, m'lords," he thundered. "A King from the North!" And he knelt and laid his sword at Jon's feet.

"Tywin Lannister can shit as much gold as he wants," Lord Karstark said. "Send him back to Casterly Rock, with his golden twins and their incestuous Lannister bastards," He eased his longsword from its scabbard. "A King from the North!" he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon.

Maege Mormont stood. "A Winter King!" she declared, "A dragon and a wolf," and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. "A King from the North!"

The rest of the lords were rising, too. The scene reminded her of their previous life as Sansa watched the rest of the Lords rise and draw their blades. Memories of them bending their knees to Jon and calling out, "The King in the North!"

This time instead shouting the old words that had crowned both her brother and Jon, a new cry could be heard. It had been over three hundred years, since Aegon the Conqueror, a Valyrian dragon, came to make the Seven Kingdoms one, and twenty years since the North sided with a stag. Now the words were for a new type of King, could be heard ringing from the timbers of her father's hall:

"A King from the North!"

"A King from the North!"

"A KING FROM THE NORTH!"

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Once the furore had died down, her father had agreed to allow a celebration feast that evening. Nothing grand in the way of food. Most of the northern Lords preferred the idea of plenty of ale, and a comfortable bed.

At first, Blizzard appeared to fear the noise, but after a moment, he became curious and sidled up to Jon, which Sansa suspected had been Jon's will. Ghost had stood on the other side of her husband, while the Lords swore fealty to him. He had looked like a true King in that moment.

As the Lords filed out of the Great Hall, Lady Shireen approached them, with Ser Davos not far behind. Her eyes fixed on Blizzard.

"Lady Shireen," Jon bowed his head.

"Your grace," she curtseyed. "Can I stroke him?" she asked.

Jon glanced down at Blizzard, who cocked his head at Shireen. "Of course, he won't hurt you."

Shireen held her hand out, but the dragon seemed eager for her touch. He jumped forward and placed his head in her hand. To Shireen's credit, she didn't flinch at Blizzard's actions. Instead, her eyes filled first with wonder, and then tears. She looked up at Jon and Sansa.

"He is beautiful," she said.

"Aye, that he is," Jon smiled, sounding like the ever proud father.

"Ser Davos," Jon addressed the former smuggler. "I think it would be wise for you to get to know Blizzard."

Ser Davos who stood with his hands behind his back and swallowed, Sansa saw the fear in his eyes. "For what do I owe this pleasure, your grace?" he asked.

"I intend to have you on my council. And I wish for all council members to be well acquainted with him. I cannot have my men being afraid of him. If the council members and generals are comfortable in his presence, then so will be the common soldier. Although this will not apply to our enemy," Jon told him.

"Ahem, oh right, I see," Ser Davos nodded. He led his hand out to Blizzard. "Well, baby dragon, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Despite acting formal, his voice was soft, as if he was talking to a child. Blizzard cocked his head to one side, then the other before glancing back at Jon, who smiled and nodded.

Sansa had heard Ser Davos who had a gift with children, and she had noticed he was close to Shireen. What she didn't expect was for the dragon to jump over to him and rest his head against the older man, who looked shocked at the dragon's behaviour.

"He likes you," Jon said with a smile, as he moved towards Sansa and placed his arm around her waist.

Ser Davos looked down at the enraptured dragon. "Ahem, well, aren't you a handsome fella?"

Blizzard might not be able to understand words, but he must have understood the tone of Ser Davos' words, for the dragon stood a little taller and preened.

"I think it is time we took him to the Godswood," her father said. "Then we can round up all of those who will look after him, or keeping him company."

"Can I help?" Shireen asked. "I could read to him."

"I'm not sure whether that is safe, Princess," Ser Davos said. Sansa knew it was a slip of the tongue, but she knew many men believed their daughters to be a Princess, and she was Jon's heir, which was why nobody said a word.

"She'll be safe," Jon said. "At least one direwolf will be with her. Nobody will take her."

"That wasn't my concern," Ser Davos said. "How can we know he will be safe with her if he is not supervised?"

"Blizzard is bonded to me. He will not hurt her, I won't let him. I have full control over him. However, should anyone try to hurt her, then I cannot be responsible for what he does to them."

"Then why is he acting timid if he isn't?" Ser Davos asked.

"Blizzard is a dragon of ice and fire. He draws some of his magic from the blood of old Valyria, and some from the wall and the weirwoods. Inside the Godswood, he will grow stronger and gain confidence," Jon told him. "As soon as he is strong enough, he will fly to old Valyria for a short time to feed from the magic which still lies there."

Sansa looked at Jon in shock. "You never told me that," she said.

Jon frowned. "I didn't know myself until just now."

"You'll need to wrap up warm, Princess," Davos told Shireen. "It's chilly out there."

"Blizzard will keep me warm, won't you?" she asked the dragon, who cocked his head. "But I will go fetch a book to read him."

"We will meet you at the Godswood," Jon said, as Ser Davos and Shireen left the Great Hall to get a book.

"Do you really think it is safe to leave him with her?" her mother asked.

"He will be as good as gold," Jon replied, as they made their way outside into the courtyard.

Lords, Ladies and servants alike, all stopped and stared as they made their way across the courtyard with Blizzard. A hush descended upon the castle. The forge stopped, the hammering and banging of the carpenters stopped. Instead, all eyes were on Blizzard, as he hopped across the wet ground, sniffing everything as he went.

Robb dropped back to walk with Jon and Sansa. "Are you sure he is an actual dragon? He acts more like a direwolf."

"Give him a sennight," Jon smirked. "I dare you to ask the same question."

Robb raised an eyebrow as they reached the entrance to the Godswood. "Confident, eh? Dragon," he laughed.

"Aye, Stark, of this I am."

Sansa rolled her eyes and moved ahead, to walk with her father. "Do you think the Lords are happy about this?"

"If he protects them, then they will be happy," he assured her as they stopped at the gates to wait for Jon and Robb to catch them up.

The guards who were stood at the entrance looked terrified of the small dragon. This seemed to give Blizzard confidence as he roared at them, or attempted to. It came out more of a squeal than anything else.

"Blizzard," Jon chided. "That is naughty."

The dragon looked as sheepish as any dragon was able to.

Footsteps in the distance alerted them to a newcomer. Sansa turned her head and saw Shireen making her way towards them with a book in her hand. Not far behind was a panting Ser Davos.

"I swear she is trying to kill me," Ser Davos panted as he arrived at the gates.

The group made their way inside. Ghost ran towards the heart tree, followed by Lady and Greywind. Blizzard, who was becoming more stable, ran after them, along with Shireen. By the time the rest of them caught up with the animals and children, Shireen had settled down beneath the weirwood tree, surrounded by three direwolves and a dragon, all cocooning her to keep her warm.

Sansa turned to Ser Davos, "I don't think she needs a cloak."

"No doubt, your grace," Ser Davos nodded.

"I'm alright, you can leave," Shireen told them.

"I'll bring some food for you and for them in a couple of hours," Jon told her. "Then we will let someone else look after them."

"Yes, your grace," Shireen smiled, opening the book and read out loud. "Twelve years before the Doom of Valyria, Aenar Targaryen sold his holdings in the Freehold and the Lands of the Long Summer, his wives, wealth, dragons, siblings, kin, and children to Dragonstone, a bleak island citadel beneath a smoking mountain in the narrow sea," she started. Sansa recognised the tale of Aegon's conquest.

They left Shireen in the Godswood to read to the dragons and direwolves the history of the dragons of Westeros.