Sorry but now I need to know how “and winter came” continue… like how the story of out little lovers ends; would they have their own little dragon-wolf? Is just such a fantastic story 🥰
I was originally intending to end this with part 2 haha but how cute would it be to see them after Lady Stark becomes his wife? I think there will need to be a Part 4 after all. I'm thinking of including a Direwolf bond in another chapter as well as a certain Meraeda bonding with a dragon and Aemond teaching her to ride.
Winter had passed, the summer zephyr stirring your skirts as you sat at the oaken table of the small sitting room. A flock of white doves flew by your window, a salty breeze from Blackwater Bay stirring your hair. The war was over, after your father had found out about your marriage to Prince Aemond he had made the difficult decision to pull his forces in favor of the Greens. The whole of the North followed Lord Stark’s lead and the rest of the Targaryen civil war was swift, ending with Aegon II on the throne, and your return to King’s Landing on Aemond’s arm.
You had not returned to Winterfell since leaving to find Aemond at Harrenhal. Your father had broken an ancient oath to save you yes, but he had also made it clear you would not be welcome back home. It was with an aching heart you relayed this message to your husband. “I had wished to take you to the North someday, show you the deep snows and the Weirwood where the Old Gods still sleep.”
Aemond took your hand in his, kissing your forehead gently. “Give it some time, my love. If your father loved you enough to change his allegiance, he will forgive you.” He smiled ruefully, his lovely sapphire eye sparkling. “Besides if we wish to go, who’s to stop us? Vhagar inspires men to become rather amenable to me.”
Time had passed, and still no word from Winterfell, no raven carrying a message of reconciliation from your lord father. You gazed out of the arched window, overlooking the many red roofs and sandstone buildings, you ran a hand absentmindedly over your swollen belly. The many heated, breathless nights spent tangled in bed with your Targaryen prince had proved fruitful.
With a smile, you recalled how Aemond’s face lit up at the news of your pregnancy. He had lifted you in his arms, spinning you around while the both of you laughed with overbrimming joy. He had hardly left your side during the four months you’d been pregnant, only leaving to attend important council meetings or when his mother summoned him as she had done this afternoon.
You rose from your plush chair, casting one last look to the distant water sparkling in the sunlight, before walking to the raven’s rook as you had done every day since arriving at the Red Keep, each time hoping for some word from the North.
There was a scroll for you, with trembling fingers you took it from the Keeper, breaking the dire wolf wax seal, your eyes scanning the brief note. Clutching the parchment to your chest, you gathered your skirts and hastened back to your chambers. Aemond, having finished with his duties, was waiting for you by the stone mantle of the great fireplace. He turned at your arrival, his violet eye widening at the expression on your face. “Has something happened?”
“My father!” You could barely breathe, as you extended the missive for Aemond to take. “He has invited us to Winterfell.”
Aemond looked the message over, his face unreadable. “This is what you desire, my wife?” His eye flitted back up to you, lowering his hands.
Despite yourself, you hesitated. “I know our welcome will not be a warm one, for lack of better words.” You moved closer, reaching up to trace your fingers along Aemond’s sharp jaw. “They will need assurance my father made the right decision in forsaking Rhaenyra.”
Your husband placed his hands to your pregnancy bump, rubbing his thumbs along the fabric of your dress. “Do you wish to go? I worry for your safety, there will be many who see you as a traitor.” He continued over your protestations. “I know what it is to be given such a title, even if it is in error.”
You nodded, lowering your gaze. “You are right, of course, but I do wish to return. I have longed for it, as you know, for months now.”
“What was it you said to me at Harrenhal?” Aemond tucked a finger under your chin, urging you to look at him. “‘When the snow falls, and the white winds blow’…”
“The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” You finished, tears blurring your vision.
Aemond made a soothing sound in the back of his throat, wiping the falling tears from your cheeks and pulling you against his chest. “We will leave as soon as you wish, my little wolf. Let the people of the north be assured they fought for the right side.”
It was on the back of Vhagar, the largest dragon in Westeros, you traveled back home. The journey was a short one, especially compared with the time it took to travel on horseback. Aemond held you tightly against him the entire time, the stead beating of Vhagar’s wings lulling you into a light slumber.
Most northerners had never seen a dragon before, only heard tales of their ferocity and the ruthlessness of the Targaryens because of them. The welcome you received at Winterfell was tense, mostly due to the fact a dragon the size of an island loomed well within eyesight of everyone in the fortress. She could easily destroy the Wall much less your entire home in the space of only a few hours, and everyone knew it.
Your family greeted you inside the muddy courtyard, your father’s noble face softened upon seeing you, his grey eyes flitting to your pregnant belly. There was a pause, before he opened his arms to you, embracing you tightly. “Daughter.” It was one word yet conveyed more emotion than you had seen before in the man.
“Father.” You hugged him tightly, savoring the familiar smell as you buried your face into the soft fur of his cloak.
He pulled away, his gaze sharpening as it landed on Aemond, who stood beside you. “Well met, lord Targaryen. I have heard much about your exploits in the South as well as your dragon.” He motioned with a gloved hand to where Vhagar could be seen over the fortress wall.
You were led inside, learning that your brothers had been unable to return from their duties abroad to see you. You had a sneaking suspicion they still held grudges against what your love for Aemond had cost them. Guilt prickled at your heart as you sat to dine with your father and his household. After your mother had died, Lord Stark had refused to remarry, thus the company in the hall was mostly men save for a few serving girls who carried heaping plates of food to the oaken table.
Aemond had been right, the conversation was subdued, many less than friendly faces observed you and your husband as you ate and drank and spoke with your father. To his credit, Aemond seemed to be making a concerted effort at polite respect, engaging your father in conversation of the history of the North. You suspected he had read up what he could about the North in the library of the Red Keep. With a small smile at that thought, you ducked your head and took another mouthful of hot soup.
-----
“I think he likes me.” Dusk had fallen, you and Aemond had elected to take an after-dinner stroll through the wood.
You looked over at him, cradling your abdomen with a hand as you walked. “I think he does as well. You certainly charmed him with your extensive knowledge of his lands and people.”
“Hmm, I knew those dusty books would come in handy one day.”
Your footsteps halted, you had reached the pool beside the great Weirwood tree, its white bark contrasting strikingly with its red five-pointed leaves. Aemond looked down at his rippling reflection in the water, his eye met yours as you also lowered your gaze to the gleaming surface.
“I understand now why you love your home as you do.” Aemond’s voice was soft, his hand reaching around to pull you gently against his side.
“It holds an old magic.” You agreed, raising your head to place your lips against his in a warm kiss. “I wish to have our baby here.”
“That is months from now, Y/N.” Aemond shook his silver head. “I’m not certain it’d be wise to linger here for that long.”
“Please, Aemond.”
The prince sighed, his eye taking in your earnest expression. “Very well, far be it from me to deny my wife anything.”
He kissed you again, wrapping his strong arms about you, the image of your entangled bodies under the ancient tree made double, reflected on the still mirror-like surface of the Weirwood lake.
It had taken some convincing, especially with the presence of Vhagar, but your father acquiesced to your desire of staying. The winds of winter blew strong against the stone walls of Winterfell the night you felt the baby begin to make its way into the world. It was the longest night of your life, your body racked with pain unlike anything you’d imagine feeling. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, sacrificing his fingers to your grip as he held your hand.
The screams of your newborn daughter were drowned out by the howling wind of the snowstorm. Exhausted, you took her into your arms, hair damp on your forehead as the babe took her first breaths. Aemond knelt beside you, caressing your face before gently taking your daughter’s hand in his, her tiny fingers curling around his finger.
Your eyes fluttered; the ordeal of childbirth had taken its toll. Aemond kissed your sweaty brow. “You’ve given me a daughter.” His voice was sweet and low, the expression on his face unlike any you’d seen there before. “What will we name her?”
“Meraeda.” You whispered. “The name of my mother.”
“Meraeda Targaryen.” Aemond repeated, almost reverentially. “She is beautiful, just like her mother.”
Indeed, the infant had inherited your dark hair though her eyes sparkled with light purple irises as she gazed at the adoring faces of her parents. Meraeda yawned widely, scrunching her pink face up and nuzzling against your breast.
Aemond placed a tender kiss to her soft head. “Sleep, my little dragon.” He ran a finger down your cheek to trace your lips. “And you, my darling wife.” His lips pressed against yours, you melted into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around you, your baby girl nestled in between you. “I will watch over you tonight.” Aemond settled back, his gaze never straying as he watched you fall into a deep slumber, your daughter sleeping in your arms.
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