In the North

Cregan Stark rode through the pine-choked road toward Winterfell under the star-scattered sky, his cloak snapping with the wind. The castle's grey silhouette loomed ahead, lit with flickering torches. It was late, and while most of the castle slept, his thoughts were very much awake.

He already dreaded the reckoning from his little niece. The Queen of Biscuits, she had dubbed herself. If word had reached her about dragons, she'd already be pouting for one of her own. Thankfully, Westoros had not yet heard the full story.

Cregan chuckled. "At least I sent a few looking for eggs," he muttered to himself. "Even if they don't hatch , they might save me from the wrath of teary eyes and quivering lips."

As the gates of Winterfell creaked open, he saw Robb standing in the courtyard, flanked by Jon and his siblings.

Cregan dismounted, knelt dramatically, and said with a grin, "Lord Stark."

Robb rolled his eyes, walking forward with a smirk. "Kissing my arse won't save you from the Queen of Biscuits' judgment. She's already delivered your punishment."

Cregan rose and hugged his brother. "Then save your blood from her evil reign before she takes us all."

Jon laughed. "If she hears you call her evil, she'll double your sentence. Might even claim your room."

Sansa chuckled as she gestured them all inside. "Come. It's late. Let's not tempt the Queen with more treason."

As they moved indoors, Robb turned to Cregan. "Where are the Sand Snakes?"

"They've returned to Dorne," Cregan replied. "Wanted to visit their kin. Said they wouldn't get another chance once snow sets in."

Robb nodded. "Fair enough."

---

Morning in Winterfell

Cregan awoke to the wet, heavy tongue of Shadow across his face. The direwolf whined insistently, tail thumping like a drum.

"All right, all right," Cregan grumbled. "Food first."

After grooming himself, he stepped into the great hall just in time to see two blurs racing toward him.

"Uncle Cregan!" Lyanna and Torrhen shouted in unison.

He swept them up in his arms. "How are my little wolves?" he asked, kissing their cheeks.

Lyanna gave him a mock slap. "You're late!"

Cregan laughed. "Forgive me, my lady. I promise to make it up to you. Now, come — let's eat."

As they entered the hall, he froze. Seated at the long table with the family was Princess Myrcella Baratheon.

"Good morrow, Princess. I didn't realize you were here."

"Good morrow, Lord Cregan," Myrcella replied politely, unsure how to meet the eyes of her betrothed.

"Sit," Robb said, his tone more formal than usual. "There's much you need to hear."

Cregan sat, sensing something serious beneath his brother's lordly demeanor.

Robb folded his hands. "King Robert wished to unite our houses. He proposed a match to Sansa. As you know We refused the match . But he was adamant to unite the houses. So, I made a different arrangement. You, Cregan Stark, will marry Princess Myrcella. It is a pact of peace and unity."

Cregan blinked, stunned. He had never imagined marrying outside the North. But he had chosen Robb as his Lord, and would not question his decision.

"As you command, brother. I will obey."

Robb nodded. "We leave for King's Landing in a moon's time. The Northern lords have been summoned. We'll travel south together."

Cregan accepted his fate quietly. He craved freedom, yes—but duty bound him tighter than any chain.

"I hope you're not averse to the match , Lord Cregan," Myrcella said gently, her tone uncertain.

"It would be my honor, Princess," he replied with his rared use grace .

"I would like to speak with you after breakfast," she said.

"I have matters to discuss with my brothers first, but afterwards, certainly."

Robb interjected with a smile. "She's been learning our customs, our gods. Just for you. So you better treat her right."

Myrcella flushed red.

Without thinking subconsciously, Cregan quipped, "Hopefully not from our mother."

Robb choked on his drink. Jon's jaw dropped. Arya, Bran, and Rickon burst into laughter.

Sansa smirked. "Oh, you're in for it now."

Myrcella looked scandalized. Catelyn, across the table, said nothing—but her eyes burned with quiet offense.

Cregan rubbed the back of his neck. "Apologies. Thoughtless of me."

"You never think, Cregan," Sansa teased.

The rest of breakfast passed in awkward silence.

---

Later – In the Solar

Robb was pacing. " I know your relationship with mother was always uneasy but Must you insult Mother at every turn? That was uncalled for."

Cregan leaned on the stone wall. "It slipped. Just a stray thought that escaped."

"Think before you speak," Robb sighed. "Now, what did you want to discuss?"

Cregan's voice turned grave. "Daenerys Targaryen has conquered Meereen. And she has three dragons."

Robb sat down hard. "You're joking."

"No. But I've taken measures. She won't move maybe for five years."

Jon, who'd been quiet until now, said, "So that's why you had me forge all those blacksteel scorpions. I thought the numbers were excessive."

Robb rubbed his temples. "Thanks, Jon. At least one brother is useful."

"That was my idea, you know," Cregan muttered.

The three of them discussed strategy, trade, and preparations. Then the conversation returned to the engagement.

"She's kind," Robb said. "And she's trying. Be decent to her. You might find happiness."

Cregan gave a slow nod. "Did you inform Dorne?"

"I did. They send no objection and are willing to continue the previous arrangement."

"Still Sand snakes would be pissed. Oberlyn won't be happy either knowing girl's family. but he will tolerate."

Cregan stared at the fire in the hearth, the weight of duty settling across his shoulders like a second cloak.

And far above the North, the wind howled through the trees. A sound that always came before the long winter.

---

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