Chapter 12 - Chapter 11

As the sun began its slow descent behind the rugged northern mountains, Aurion and Lyanna continued their journey toward Winterfell. The chill of the northern air began to bite deeper, and Lyanna pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Despite the cold, the warmth of Aurion's hand still lingered faintly on hers, a reminder of their earlier moment.

Aurion walked silently beside her, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. His thoughts were as turbulent as the winds stirred by his dragons overhead. He had not expected Lyanna to resist the allure of freedom he offered. Most would have jumped at the chance to escape duty, but Lyanna Stark was not like most. She was proud, resolute, and bound by a sense of honor that rivaled his own.

"Aurion," Lyanna's voice broke the silence, soft yet firm. "What brings you to the North? Surely not just a chance meeting with a Stark maiden on the road."

Aurion turned his gaze to her, his violet eyes shimmering with faint amusement. "You're perceptive, my lady. My journey here is indeed purposeful. I seek to meet with your father, Lord Rickard Stark. The North is vast, and its loyalty is vital to the stability of the realm."

"And what would a man with two dragons need with alliances in the North?" Lyanna asked, her tone curious but guarded.

Aurion's smile widened slightly. "Even dragons need friends, my lady. Strength is not merely measured in fire and steel but in the bonds we forge."

Lyanna studied him for a moment, her sharp gray eyes searching his face. "You speak like a diplomat, but you carry yourself like a warrior. Which are you?"

"I am what the situation demands," Aurion replied, his tone turning more serious. "But tell me, Lady Lyanna, which do you prefer?"

She raised an eyebrow at his question, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Perhaps I prefer honesty above all," she said after a moment.

Aurion inclined his head. "Then I shall be honest. I admire the North's unyielding spirit. I see it in its people and in you, Lyanna. Your strength, your honor—they are qualities I respect deeply."

Before Lyanna could respond, the sound of distant voices and the clinking of armor reached their ears. Aurion's hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword, and Lyanna's breath caught in her throat. Emerging from the trees ahead were several Winterfell soldiers, their eyes scanning the area with urgency.

One of the soldiers spotted them and called out, "Lady Lyanna! Are you well?"

Lyanna stepped forward, her posture straightening. "I am fine. I was just making my way back to Winterfell."

The soldier approached, his expression a mix of relief and curiosity as his gaze shifted to Aurion. "And who is this, my lady?"

Aurion inclined his head in a courteous nod. "Aurion Balaerys, a traveler and a friend. I mean no harm."

The soldier's eyes lingered warily on the hilt of Aurion's sword before turning back to Lyanna. "Lord Rickard spotted the dragons from the battlements. He sent us to find you and ensure your safety. He's preparing for the arrival of your… guest."

Lyanna nodded, her expression unreadable. "Very well. Lead the way."

The group began their journey toward Winterfell, the soldiers keeping a respectful but watchful distance from Aurion. Overhead, Balerion and Vhagar circled lazily, their massive forms visible even against the fading light. The sight of the dragons clearly unnerved the soldiers, though they did their best to maintain their composure.

Meanwhile, back at Winterfell, Lord Rickard Stark stood on the battlements, his gaze fixed on the distant shapes of the dragons. His face was a mask of stern contemplation. "So, the dragonlord comes to the North," he murmured to himself.

Behind him, Maester Walys approached, his robes rustling in the cold breeze. "My lord, preparations have been made to receive him. Do you think his intentions are genuine?"

Rickard's lips pressed into a thin line. "That remains to be seen. But if he seeks to wield the strength of the North, he will find that we are not so easily swayed. The dragons are impressive, but they are not invincible."

The maester nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And Lady Lyanna?"

"She is strong," Rickard said firmly. "Stronger than she knows. Let us see what this Aurion Balaerys truly wants. Winterfell will not bow without good reason."

Balerion and Vhagar descended from the sky, landing gracefully in a cleared field just beyond the castle walls. Their immense size and the sound of their wings caused a stir among the gathered onlookers. Whispers spread like wildfire as the dragons settled, their eyes scanning the surroundings with an intelligence that was both awe-inspiring and unnerving.

Aurion stepped forward, his movements confident and steady, without any sign of deference. Lyanna followed close behind, her gaze darting between her family and the dragons. At the center of the courtyard stood Lord Rickard Stark, his imposing figure radiating authority. His piercing gray eyes locked onto Aurion as the dragonlord approached.

"Lord Rickard," Aurion said, meeting the Warden of the North's gaze directly. "I am Aurion Balaerys. I thank you for your hospitality."

Rickard inclined his head slightly, his expression carefully neutral. "Winterfell welcomes all who come in peace, Lord Aurion. Though I must admit, it is not every day we see dragons in the North."

Aurion's lips curved into a faint smile. "The North's reputation for resilience precedes it. I have long wished to see it with my own eyes."

Rickard's gaze flicked to Lyanna, who stood beside Aurion. "Lyanna, are you unharmed?"

"I am fine, Father," she replied. "Aurion ensured my safety."

Rickard's eyes softened briefly as he nodded. Then, turning back to Aurion, he said, "Let us speak further inside. There is much to discuss."

Aurion followed Rickard into the Great Hall, the warmth of the roaring hearths a stark contrast to the chill outside. As they settled around the long wooden table, the tension in the air was palpable.