Bab 4: Chapter 4 - As Cold As Ice
129 AC
Twelfth Day Of The Third Moon
The North
The frigid winds cut through the night, the moon casting an ethereal glow upon my dragon and me as we soared through the darkened skies. It was a solitary journey, one I embarked upon swiftly after Aegon's coronation, seeking solace in the North.
Wintertown sprawled beneath us, its humble houses mere specks in the vast landscape. I chose to travel under the cloak of darkness, shrouded by the shadows, avoiding unwanted attention. The Riverlands had presented their own challenges along the way, testing our resolve. Riding Vermithor for such an extended period was a feat unto itself, his majestic form cutting through the night with silent grace.
Wrapped in layers of wool and fur, I battled against the chill, a constant reminder of my southern roots ill-suited for the harsh northern climate, even in its milder seasons.
The sight of Winterfell from above was truly awe-inspiring. The television show, for all its grandeur, failed to capture the true essence of the castle, its vastness and imposing presence. It stood as one of the largest bastions in all of Westeros, a testament to the might and history of the North.
With a gentle hand, I guided Vermithor towards the godswood, where we made our descent. Despite his fearsome moniker of the Bronze Fury, Vermithor understood the need for silence in these lands, offering nothing more than a soft flutter of wings as we landed. No roars or growls disturbed the quiet of the night, a testament to his discipline and understanding of our surroundings.
"Lower your weapon," the woman commanded sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "And remove that hood this instant, or I won't hesitate to let this arrow fly."
Feeling the weight of her threat, I complied, slowly sinking to one knee and placing my dagger on the ground before reaching up to reveal my face concealed by the hood.
Her reaction was palpable, her eyes widening in astonishment as she beheld my features.
"I am Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of the late King Viserys Targaryen," I declared, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I seek an audience with your brother, Lady Snow."
The woman's shock lingered in the air, her expression a mixture of disbelief and apprehension as she processed the gravity of my revelation.
I stood within the heart of Winterfell, surrounded by the imposing walls of the Great Keep, the fortress within a fortress. Crafted over natural hot springs, it exuded a comforting warmth that contrasted sharply with the biting chill of the northern air. This stronghold housed the bedchambers of House Stark, a testament to their enduring legacy in the North.
Beside me stood two stalwart men-at-arms, loyal servants of House Stark, their faces impassive despite the muffled shouts emanating from the lord's solar nearby. Their steadfast demeanor spoke volumes of their training and discipline, unwavering even in the face of whatever turmoil may be unfolding within the chambers of their lord.
"Is this a common occurrence between the brother and sister?" I inquired of one of the men-at-arms, but my question was met with stoic silence. Their unwavering gazes spoke volumes, leaving me to ponder the enigmatic nature of the Northmen.
Despite their reticence, I couldn't help but find irony in their standoffish demeanor, considering my own tumultuous history. It was a wry observation, though one I kept to myself as I awaited my chance to enter the solar.
As the doors of the solar swung open, Sarra Snow stormed out in a huff, her departure serving as my signal to step forward. With measured steps, I crossed the threshold, ready to face whatever awaited me within.
The solar exuded an air of grandeur, its vastness accentuated by rows of tomes lining the shelves and a crackling fireplace casting a comforting warmth throughout the room.
My attention was drawn immediately to the figure seated at the center of the chamber, the current lord of Winterfell, none other than the formidable Cregan Stark himself.
"Prince Jaehaerys," he greeted, his voice carrying a weight of authority tempered by a hint of courtesy.
"I apologize for my sister's behavior, though it would have been more prudent for you to send a raven to announce your arrival," he continued, his tone measured yet firm.
I regarded the man before me, taking in his dark black hair, trimmed beard, and stormy grey eyes, the unmistakable features of House Stark passed down through generations.
I couldn't help but find a sense of irony in the timing of our conversation, occurring as it did within the darkest hours of the night, in the heart of the Hour of the Wolf.
Softly, I delivered the news that weighed heavy upon my heart. "My father, the king, is dead," I murmured, observing as Cregan Stark's stoic facade wavered ever so slightly, his eyes betraying the turmoil within.
"He passed away peacefully in his sleep, on the third day of the third moon," I continued, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air.
"My brother has ascended the throne, and he has tasked me as his envoy," I concluded, my voice steady despite the somber tidings.
There was a palpable pause as Cregan absorbed the gravity of my words, his features a mask of icy composure. When he finally spoke, his voice rang out cold and resolute, betraying none of the turmoil that surely raged beneath the surface.
"The heir of the Iron Throne is your sister, Princess Rhaenyra, is it not?" Cregan inquired, his tone measured yet probing.
"A man precedes a woman in matters of inheritance," I replied evenly. "A brother comes before a sister, and a son before an uncle. You should be well acquainted with these customs, Lord Stark, especially in light of your uncle's actions."
Cregan met my gaze squarely, his expression inscrutable, before a low chuckle escaped his lips.
"You've got balls," he remarked with a wry grin, acknowledging the audacity of my words.
"So tell me, why should I throw my support behind your brother rather than your sister?" Cregan queried, his gaze piercing.
"If my sister ascends the throne, it won't be her ruling, but rather the Rogue Prince pulling the strings. And believe me, my uncle is as mad as Maegor the Cruel," I asserted firmly.
"Your brother is deemed more capable in matters of rulership," Cregan countered.
"He is," I replied, striving to project confidence, even though I knew all too well that Aegon was hardly a paragon of wisdom compared to Rhaenyra.
"The North has suffered neglect for too long, and my brother intends to rectify that," I asserted.
"The New Gift, claimed by my ancestor bearing the same name, will be returned to the Northern lords," I continued, noting the gleam of interest in Cregan's eyes at the prospect of reclaiming such valuable territory.
"It shall belong to the noble houses of the North, not the Night's Watch," I emphasized, eliciting a pleased smile from Cregan.
"But there's more," I added. "I propose a pact."
"A pact?" he echoed, curiosity evident in his tone.
"A Pact of Ice and Fire," I declared.
"What does this entail?" he inquired.
"It means a union between our houses," I explained. "A lady of House Stark will wed a prince of House Targaryen, and in return, a princess of House Targaryen will marry a lord of House Stark."
As Cregan rose from his seat, I followed suit, the gravity of our agreement settling upon us. With a firm handshake, we sealed the allegiance of the North to the Greens.
"Lord Stark, you really ought to consider bolstering your guard to ensure the safety of your castle," I remarked, prompting a raised eyebrow from him.
"I landed my dragon in the godswood, and your sister was the only one who took notice," I added with a subtle smirk, earning a hearty laugh from Cregan.
"Indeed, Prince Jaehaerys, you speak true. I shall see to it that my guards are duly reprimanded for their lapse in vigilance," he conceded, though the exact nature of Cregan's punishment for the guards remained a mystery, leaving me to ponder the severity of their forthcoming discipline.
-----
129 AC
Thirtieth Day Of The Third Moon
The Wolfswood
We ventured into the depths of the Wolfswood, hunting game amidst the ancient trees, and my gaze often strayed towards the prince who had ventured northward.
Our first encounter had been anything but pleasant. I had nearly let loose an arrow at him, and Cregan was none too pleased with my readiness to shoot a prince. But how was I to know? I was the only one who had ever stumbled upon a bloody dragon in the godswood. Was I expected to greet it with open arms?
Our disagreement had left a sour taste in my mouth, and I found myself harboring no fondness for this prince. His stoic demeanor grated on my nerves, his silence more irritating than comforting. The rare glimpses of emotion he displayed were reserved solely for Cregan, the two of them forming an unlikely bond that only served to fuel my frustration further.
"He reminds me of our brother," Cregan confided to me in a rare moment of intimacy, his words laced with a bittersweet nostalgia that hung heavy in the air. It was a sentiment that tugged at my heartstrings, especially in the wake of our recent loss—the passing of my good-sister, who had perished in childbirth, leaving behind my newborn nephew. It had hardly been a year since her death.
Inwardly, I couldn't help but disagree with Cregan's assessment. Our brother, Jon, had possessed a vivacity and warmth that seemed worlds apart from the stoic demeanor of this prince. Jon's laughter had once echoed through these halls, filling them with life and joy. But now, both he and our father lay at rest beneath the watchful gaze of the old gods.
"Quiet," Cregan's voice broke the silence like a whispering breeze, and the hunting party halted in unison, our attention drawn to the graceful deer grazing near the stream.
I notched an arrow in my bow, preparing to take aim, but before I could release it, the prince's soft voice cut through the stillness. "She is too far away," he remarked, his gaze meeting mine.
His words ignited a spark of irritation within me. Did he doubt my skill with the bow? With a determined breath, I adjusted my aim and let loose the arrow, striking the deer true, and it fell to the ground.
"What was that you were saying, my prince? I couldn't quite hear you," I teased, a smirk playing on my lips.
"Apologies, my lady," he replied softly.
Cregan chuckled, his hand patting my back. "Never underestimate my sister, Jaehaerys," he declared proudly as we approached our prey.
But as we drew nearer, my heart sank at the sight of a small fawn nudging its lifeless mother, a pang of guilt tightening my chest.
Cregan's expression mirrored my own, but the prince approached the fawn with an unsettling calmness.
Surprisingly, the young creature made no attempt to flee, its trust in the prince apparent as he gently touched it.
But then, to my horror, he twisted the fawn's delicate neck, ending its innocent life in an instant.
"What is wrong with you?" I exclaimed, shoving him away in a surge of righteous anger.
"Sara," Cregan interjected, his voice thick with frustration.
"You could have let the fawn go" , I protested, my voice quivering with emotion.
"You had no qualms about killing the mother, but suddenly you're concerned about the fawn?" the prince retorted, his tone icy and devoid of remorse, igniting a fiery rage within me.
"Fuck off", I spat, storming off in a whirlwind of indignation.
--
I vented my frustration upon the sturdy trees of the godswood, the sharp clang of my sword against the bark punctuating my anger.
"Who the hell does he think he is?" I bellowed, each strike against the tree leaving its mark, a testament to my fury.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps caught my attention, and I whirled around to confront the intruder. It was the prince, his presence only serving to fuel my frustration.
"Why are you here?" I demanded, my voice laced with contempt.
He remained silent for a moment, his gaze steady upon me before he finally spoke.
"Cregan told me you would be here in the godswood," he explained calmly.
"How wonderful. Perhaps you should just go and marry my brother since he seems to adore you so much," I retorted bitterly, my words dripping with resentment.
"Are you angry with me?" he inquired, his tone surprisingly calm given the tension between us.
I felt a surge of frustration, wanting nothing more than to unleash my pent-up anger upon him. But instead of resorting to violence, he drew his Valyrian steel dagger and pointed it at me.
"Whenever Alyssa is upset with me, we spar to release our frustrations," he explained, his demeanor steady despite the tension.
I twirled my sword in hand, sizing him up. "So you think you can best me, little princeling?" I challenged, pointing my sword at him.
Without hesitation, he discarded his dagger and raised his fists, beckoning me to come at him. "Oh, you believe you're so superior that you can defeat me unarmed?" I taunted, charging at him.
I struck him with all my might, but he deftly dodged and countered, proving to be a formidable opponent. Despite my best efforts, he gained the upper hand, disarming me with ease.
He pinned me down with both hands, his breath quickening as the weight of his dominance settled upon me.
"You lost," he declared, his voice laced with triumph. But before he could finish his sentence, I spat in his face, catching him off guard. His shock was evident as his control wavered, opening an opportunity I seized without hesitation.
With a swift motion, my right fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling backward. I wasted no time in capitalizing on my advantage, climbing on top of him.
"How does it feel, huh, little princeling? To be bested by a bastard girl?" I taunted, relishing the taste of victory as I asserted my dominance over him.
"Are you happy now?" he asked, his gaze searching mine for an answer.
But his genuine question only fueled my anger, and I rose abruptly from where I sat.
"Cregan has known you for barely a moon, yet he trusts you implicitly. He speaks to you openly, while for the past year, he has shut me out, not even sparing me a word, drowning in his own self-loathing," I shouted, unleashing the torrent of emotions I had long kept buried.
"We share the same blood, but he finds more comfort in confiding in you," I continued, tears streaming down my cheeks as the weight of my hurt and frustration bore down upon me.
"He loves you, Sara," the prince interjected softly, his words penetrating the walls of my anger.
"He just doesn't know how to show it," he added, his voice filled with understanding and empathy.
His words struck a chord within me, and I felt a wave of calm wash over me.
"Believe me, I have three older brothers, and not one of them has ever uttered those words to me aloud. But it's in their actions, the little gestures, the unspoken bonds, that they show their love and care," he continued, a genuine smile gracing his features.
As I looked at him, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he appeared in that moment, and I felt a warmth spread through me, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Extending his hand, he offered me his assistance, and I accepted it, allowing him to help me up from the ground.
"The real reason I killed the fawn was an act of mercy," he confessed, his beautiful purple eyes locking with mine in earnest.
"In the Wolfswood, there are bears, wolves, and other predators that would make quick prey of a young fawn. Instead of letting it spend its last moments in fear and suffering a brutal death, I gave it a swift and painless end," he explained. As he spoke, I couldn't help but wonder if he was referring solely to the fawn or something deeper.
As he touched his face, I noticed a bruise forming, a result of our earlier scuffle.
"You remind me so much of Alyssa," he remarked, his eyes glowing with warmth. "She, too, hits me as hard as you did."
Feeling a pang of shame at my actions, I realized the gravity of what I had done. Cregan would surely reprimand me once he learned of our altercation, and here I had struck a prince, of all people.
"You deserved it," I muttered, though his laughter, genuine and infectious, eased the tension between us, and soon I found myself joining in.
"Come, I'll take you to the maester in case something happened to that pretty face of yours," I offered, before realizing the implication of my words. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he merely chuckled, and together, we made our way toward the maester's quarters.
------
A fortnight had passed since the altercation between Jaehaerys and me, and in that time, our friendship had blossomed, as had my relationship with my brother.
I cherished the moments spent with Jaehaerys. He shared tales of his life in King's Landing, while I regaled him with stories of Winterfell. He taught me the art of unarmed combat, and in return, I imparted lessons on archery, though his skill left much to be desired. Yet, he approached each practice session with unwavering determination.
"Damnit, I missed the bullseye," he grumbled, nocking another arrow as I approached him.
"Your body is too rigid," I remarked, stepping closer to him, my touch guiding his arms, my hands lingering on his body as I adjusted his aim. His focus remained solely on the target, oblivious to my subtle actions.
Stepping back, I watched as he released the arrow, striking the center of the target.
"I did it," he whispered, a smile lighting up his face.
"Thank you, Sarra," he said gratefully, pulling me into a hug. Heat flooded my cheeks at his embrace, a warmth spreading through me at his closeness.
"That was amazing," he remarked, pulling away, though I wished he would linger. As I met his gaze, an overwhelming desire to kiss him washed over me, but I resisted, the moment fleeting yet unforgettable.
As the master of arms approached us, he delivered a message from my brother as he wished to speak with Jaehaerys. Nodding solemnly, Jaehaerys followed the man toward Cregan's solar, and I trailed behind him.
As Jaehaerys disappeared into the solar, I waited anxiously outside, the minutes stretching into an eternity. When he finally emerged, his demeanor had shifted, his usually composed expression now troubled.
"Is everything alright, Jaehaerys?" I inquired, concern lacing my voice as I studied his troubled countenance.
"I will be leaving tomorrow, Sara," he announced, his words hitting me like a blow.
"No, you can't leave," I protested, my heart sinking at the thought of his departure.
"What do you mean?" I pressed, desperate for an explanation.
"I need some time alone, Sara," he replied softly, his gaze avoiding mine as he turned to leave.
As he walked away, a sense of loss washed over me, and I couldn't help but wonder what had prompted his sudden departure.
I entered my brother's solar to find him seated, a scroll in hand, his expression grave.
"Brother, why is Jaehaerys leaving? What did you say to him?" I demanded, my voice tinged with urgency.
Wordlessly, he passed the parchment to me, and as I read its contents, my eyes widened in disbelief.
"His nephew is in White Harbour?" I exclaimed incredulously.
"It seems the Blacks have sent their own envoy," he confirmed with a somber nod.
"And Prince Jacaerys Velaryon intends to make his way towards Winterfell," I added, connecting the dots.
"So, what does Jaehaerys intend to do, and where is he going?" I pressed, desperate for answers.
"He intends to meet his nephew," Cregan replied with a grim tone.
"And do what?" I questioned, a sense of foreboding settling over me.
"To ensure that his nephew never returns to Dragonstone," he stated ominously, his words hanging heavy in the air.
"For it is the only way to keep his family safe," Cregan added as he rose from his seat, a sense of urgency driving me as I hurriedly left the solar to find Jaehaerys.
I rushed towards the Godswood, knowing he would be there.
I found him seated in front of the heart tree, twirling his dagger.
"Jaehaerys," I said softly, his gaze meeting mine.
"I know why you are leaving," I began, my voice trembling.
"Do not become a kinslayer," I pleaded, my words laced with desperation.
"You are not that kind of person," I continued, trying to reach the goodness I knew resided within him.
"You do not know what you are saying, Sara. You do not know what I know. Trust me, this is the only way to ensure my family's safety," he insisted, his voice strained with emotion.
"You are a good man, Jaehaerys," I whispered, stepping closer to him, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch his cheek.
"And I love you for that," I confessed, my heart laid bare.
I could see shock and disbelief flicker across his face. Ignoring his reaction, I leaned in to kiss him, but before our lips could meet, he pushed me away with sudden force.
"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and confusion.
"I am doing what my heart wants, Jaehaerys. I love you," I declared, tears welling in my eyes.
"You do not know who I truly am," he replied, his voice cold and distant.
"I have killed more men than you can imagine, Sara. And there are more to come," he confessed, his words chilling me to the core.
"I will kill everyone who poses a threat to my family," he declared, his tone unwavering.
"Jacaerys, Joffrey, Lucerys, Rhaenys, Rhaenyra, Daemon... the list of people I intend to kill goes on and on, Sara. Because that is the only way," he explained, his voice filled with resignation.
"I am a monster," he admitted, his eyes filled with self-loathing.
"It does not matter if people call me a kinslayer or a monster. All that matters to me is that my family is safe, that the woman I love stays safe," he confessed, his voice breaking with emotion.
"What will Alyssa say when she sees the monster you intend to become?" I asked, my heart breaking at the thought.
"She can hate me and curse me, it matters not," he replied, his resolve unwavering.
"As long as she survives this war, that is all that matters," he concluded, his gaze turning to his dagger, his expression haunted by the weight of his decisions.
"For I am as cold as Ice", he stated with an ominous chill in his voice.
-----
Dance Of The Dragons
In the annals of Westerosi history, the Dance of the Dragons remains etched as a grim testament to the brutal conflicts that plagued the realm. The first time the dragons engaged in their deadly dance was in the year 43 AC during the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye. Here, amidst the tumultuous clash of Aegon the Uncrowned and Maegor the Cruel, their dragons Quicksilver and The Mighty Balerion met in a fierce aerial duel. It was a battle that marked the resurgence of dragon warfare, a spectacle unseen for over a century since the fall of Valyria.
Seventy-six years passed before the dragons would again engage in their deadly dance, and the stage was set for a fateful encounter between Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen and his nephew, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. Unlike the previous clashes witnessed beneath the Gods Eye, where thousands beheld the aerial spectacle, this duel unfolded in the desolate expanse of the northern landscape, devoid of any witnesses.
In this remote setting, amidst the haunting silence of the North, the fate of the two princes was sealed in the fiery clash of dragon against dragon. The absence of witnesses only served to heighten the sense of foreboding surrounding this encounter, shrouding it in mystery and uncertainty. Only the winds of the North whispered of the tragic fate that befell the contenders in this solitary duel, a solemn testament to the merciless nature of dragon warfare.
According to various accounts, Prince Jacaerys was rumored to be on his way to Winterfell from White Harbor, intent on securing the allegiance of the Starks. However, unbeknownst to many, his uncle had already secured their loyalty.
Some tales suggest that Prince Jacaerys was taken by surprise, not anticipating the presence of his uncle who was yet to earn the name of The Silent Fury.
Others claim that, despite the shock of encountering his uncle, Jacaerys fought valiantly alongside his dragon, Vermax. However, they proved no match for the might of the Bronze Fury and its rider.
According to historical records, the Dance of the Two Dragons in the North occurred in the fourth moon of 129 AC. Following this grim spectacle, the Great Betrayal unfolded in the Vale on the twenty-fifth day of the fifth moon of the same year. It was during this tragic event that Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, wielding the power of his dragon, brought about the demise of yet another of his nephews: the younger brother of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince Joffery Velaryon alongside his dragon Tyraxes.
The veil of secrecy surrounding the events in the Vale meant that news of this confrontation did not reach Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, one of the claimant to the Iron Throne. It was only after the Battle of Rook's Rest, which transpired on the seventh day of the seventh moon of 129 AC, that the truth emerged.
In a solemn missive dispatched by her own half-brother, the Silent Prince, Queen Rhaenyra was informed of the tragic fate that befell her sons at his hands. Alongside this grim news, a chilling message accompanied the letter, bearing the ominous words: "You are next."
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone