Chapter 3

As the Northern Lords gathered in the camp on the outskirts of the city, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the cool breeze that swept across the landscape. Ned Stark stood at the forefront, his expression solemn yet resolute, as he prepared to address his bannermen.

"Men of the North," he began, his voice ringing out with authority, "I have called you here today to announce a momentous occasion in the history of our house."

The assembled lords turned their attention to Ned, their faces reflecting a mixture of curiosity and expectation.

"After years of turmoil and uncertainty, it is time to secure the future of House Stark and the North," Ned continued, his tone unwavering. "I am proud to present to you Lord Cregan Stark, trueborn son of Brandon Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne-Stark."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd as the lords exchanged glances, processing the news of Cregan's ascension to lordship.

"From this day forth, Cregan Stark shall be known as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," Ned declared, his voice echoing with solemnity. "Under his leadership, House Stark shall flourish, and the North shall stand strong and united."

As Ned's proclamation echoed through the gathering of Northern Lords, a sense of reverence settled over the assembly. But amidst the solemnity, Roose Bolton's voice pierced the air with a question that echoed the curiosity of many.

"Lord Stark," Roose Bolton began, his tone measured yet insistent, "forgive my confusion, but I must inquire about the circumstances surrounding Lady Ashara Dayne's marriage to Lord Brandon Stark. This union has not been widely known or acknowledged. Could you shed some light on this matter?"

The question hung in the air, prompting a hushed murmur to ripple through the assembly as the other lords turned their attention to Ned, awaiting his response with keen interest.

Ashara Dayne's words echoed through the silent camp, carrying the weight of truth and conviction as she addressed the gathered lords. "My lords," she began, her voice steady and unwavering, "Lord Brandon Stark and I met and married at the Tourney of Harrenhal, before the onset of Robert's Rebellion."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembly as Ashara's revelation sank in, the significance of her words not lost on those present. The Tourney of Harrenhal was a momentous event in the history of the realm, and the revelation of Ashara's marriage to Brandon Stark added a new layer of complexity to the tapestry of history.

"In the midst of celebration and revelry, amidst the grandeur of Harrenhal's halls, Brandon Stark and I found love," Ashara continued, her voice infused with a sense of nostalgia and longing. "Our union was born of mutual respect and affection, forged in the fires of friendship and camaraderie that defined that fateful tournament."

As Ashara's words hung in the air, Princess Elia Martell stepped forward, her presence a testament to the truth of Ashara's declaration. "I can attest to the union of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne," she affirmed, her voice carrying the weight of authority and conviction. "I bore witness to their marriage, under the traditions of the First Men. Their union was a testament to their love and commitment to each other."

The confirmation from Princess Elia lent further credibility to Ashara's revelation, solidifying the legitimacy of her marriage to Brandon Stark in the eyes of the gathered lords. The bond of friendship and trust between Elia and Ashara added an additional layer of authenticity to the narrative, reinforcing the sincerity of their words.

Ned turned his attention to Princess Elia Martell, the weight of his revelation mirrored in the solemnity of his expression. "By the decree of King Robert Baratheon," he began, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "Princess Rhaenys Targaryen is betrothed to Cregan Stark, the new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

Elia's reaction to Ned's announcement was indeed complex, her emotions a turbulent whirlpool beneath the composed surface she presented to the assembled lords. While the prospect of her daughter marrying into House Stark elicited a sense of bittersweet satisfaction, it was not solely due to the esteemed lineage of the Starks. Instead, it was the familial connection to Ashara, her cherished friend and confidante, that resonated most deeply within her.

The bond between Elia and Ashara transcended mere alliances or political considerations; it was a bond forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unwavering loyalty. To see her daughter betrothed to Ashara's son was a poignant reminder of the enduring strength of their friendship, a testament to the ties that bound them together despite the tumultuous upheavals of the realm.

Yet, even as Elia allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction at the thought of Rhaenys marrying into Ashara's family, a shadow of unease lingered beneath the surface. The betrothal arranged by Robert Baratheon, the man who had brought about the downfall of House Targaryen and shattered her world, killing her beloved Rhaegar, cast a pall over the proceedings, reminding her of the bitter realities of power and politics.

In the delicate dance between duty and desire, Elia found herself torn between conflicting loyalties and emotions, her heart heavy with the weight of history and the uncertainty of the future. And as she exchanged a glance with Ashara, the silent understanding that passed between them spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that lay ahead.

—

Amidst the grumbles and murmurs that echoed through the hall, one voice rose above the rest, its tone gruff and authoritative. "A Stark should wed someone from the North, not some fancy Southron lady," declared one of the older lords, his beard bristling with indignation.

"Aye, we've got no use for these Southern alliances," chimed in another, his voice tinged with skepticism. "What good will a marriage to a Targaryen bring us?"

Ned Stark, ever the stalwart guardian of his house's honor, stepped forward, his expression stern yet resolute. "Our duty is to ensure the prosperity and security of House Stark and the North," he proclaimed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "If this betrothal serves that purpose, then we must honor our commitments."

"But at what cost, Lord Stark?" challenged another lord, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are we to bend the knee to the whims of these Southern lords, forsaking our own customs and traditions?"

Ned's gaze hardened further as he addressed the assembled lords, his voice cutting through the murmurs of discontent. "Know this," he began, his tone commanding attention, "as part of this betrothal, King Robert Baratheon has pledged a generous dowry to House Stark."

A ripple of intrigue spread through the gathered lords, their curiosity piqued by the mention of a dowry. "What does the dowry entail?" queried one of the lords, his interest piqued.

Ned's expression remained impassive as he continued, "King Robert has pledged to refurbish and strengthen the defenses of Moat Cailin, providing our southern borders with added protection and security."

The announcement elicited a collective murmur of approval from the Northern lords, their skepticism tempered by the promise of enhanced defenses for their homeland. It was a practical concession, one that spoke to the pragmatic nature of their liege lord and his commitment to safeguarding their interests.

"As stewards of the North, it is our duty to ensure the safety and prosperity of our people," Ned declared, his words resonating with conviction. "With this dowry, we strengthen our defenses and secure our future for generations to come."

Ned's gaze shifted to Princess Elia once more, his tone solemn as he delivered the news regarding her son, Aegon. "By King Robert's decree," he began, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "upon the wedding of Cregan Stark and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Prince Aegon Targaryen will be given the choice to take the Black or join the ranks of the Maesters."

A hushed silence fell over the assembly as Ned's words sank in, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on the hearts of the Northern lords. They exchanged uneasy glances, their discomfort evident as they contemplated the fate that awaited the young prince.

Though bound by duty and loyalty to their liege lord, the Northern lords could not help but feel a pang of sympathy for the innocent babe whose future hung in the balance. It was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of politics and power, where even the most vulnerable were not spared from the consequences of their lineage.

As the implications of Ned's announcement reverberated through the hall, a sense of somber reflection settled over the gathered lords, underscoring the fragile balance between duty and compassion in the tumultuous game of thrones.

Elia's expression remained stoic, betraying little of the turmoil that churned within her. Though her heart ached at the thought of her son's uncertain future, she knew that she must maintain her composure in the face of adversity.

With a subtle nod of acceptance, she acknowledged Ned's words, her resolve unyielding despite the weight of grief that threatened to consume her. In that moment, she drew upon the strength of her ancestors, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead, determined to navigate the treacherous currents of politics and power with grace and dignity.

—

As the other lords filed out of the tent, Ned turned his attention to the small group that remained. "Princess Elia, Ashara, Cregan, Ser Arthur," he addressed them, his voice somber yet resolute. "There are matters that require our attention, matters of great importance to the future of House Stark and the North."

As soon as they were alone, Ned turned to Elia, his expression grave yet determined. "There is something you must know," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation he was about to share. "Lyanna and her child are alive."

Elia's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected news, a mixture of disbelief and hope flickering across her features. "Alive?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ned nodded solemnly, his gaze unwavering. "Yes," he affirmed. "And I know the truth about you and Rhaegar marrying Lyanna, making her Rhaegar's second wife."

Ned's words hung heavy in the air, their weight laden with the revelation of a long-held secret. Elia's breath caught in her throat at the confirmation of a truth she had guarded fiercely, her heart heavy with the burden of hidden history.

"It is true," she confessed softly, her voice tinged with sorrow and resignation. "Rhaegar and I... we married Lyanna in secret, bound by the traditions of the First Men."

Elia's admission hung heavy in the air, each word weighted with the gravity of truth long concealed. The revelation of Rhaegar and Elia's secret marriage to Lyanna, bound by the ancient customs of their ancestors, cast a somber hue over the small gathering.

Ned's expression remained solemn, his understanding tempered by the weight of the knowledge he now bore. "I had suspected as much," he admitted quietly, his voice laced with empathy. "But I needed to hear it from your mouth."

The atmosphere in the room carried a different weight, one of shared understanding and solemn acknowledgment. Elia's confession resonated with the intimate knowledge shared by those who had been present at the Tower of Joy, binding them together in a silent pact of solidarity and empathy.

Cregan's expression remained composed, his demeanor a testament to the maturity and understanding that belied his youth. Having borne witness to the events at the Tower of Joy, he had long grappled with the complexities of his family's history, and Elia's admission served only to reinforce the depth of their shared bonds.

Ashara's gaze softened with empathy as she reached out to Elia, her silent support a gesture of solidarity and understanding. Having stood beside her friend through the trials and tribulations of their shared past, she knew the weight of Elia's confession and offered her comfort in this moment of vulnerability.

Ser Arthur's stoic facade betrayed little of the emotions roiling within him, his unwavering presence a pillar of strength amidst the emotional tumult. As a witness to the clandestine marriage between Rhaegar, Elia, and Lyanna, he bore the burden of their shared secret with steadfast resolve, his loyalty to House Stark unwavering even in the face of personal sacrifice. Together, they navigated the complexities of their intertwined fates, bound by duty, honor, and the unbreakable ties of kinship and loyalty.

"Lord Stark," Elia's voice trembled slightly, her eyes reflecting her concern. "What will you do now? I fear that if you were to tell Robert about Lyanna and Rhaegar's child, it could reignite his lust for killing 'Dragonspawn.'"

Elia's question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken apprehension and uncertainty. Ned's response was measured, his voice carrying a note of reassurance as he sought to allay her fears.

"I will do what I must to protect Lyanna's child and ensure their safety," he replied, his tone firm with resolve. "Robert's thirst for vengeance will not dictate the fate of an innocent babe, nor will it jeopardize the fragile peace we seek to maintain."

Elia nodded, her expression reflecting a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Stark," she said, her voice soft with emotion. "Your compassion and mercy give me hope for the future."

Ned offered her a reassuring smile, his gaze unwavering. "You have my word, Princess Elia," he stated solemnly. "I will not allow harm to come to Lyanna's child, no matter the cost."

Elia's expression softened slightly at Ned's vow, a flicker of gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you, Lord Stark," she replied, her voice tinged with relief. "What did Lyanna name the boy?"

"Lyanna named him Jaecaerys," Ashara replied softly, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and sadness. "In honor of his Targaryen heritage and the legacy of his father."

Elia's expression softened, a fleeting smile touching her lips as she absorbed the significance of the name. "Jaecaerys," she repeated softly, the name resonating with a sense of history and destiny. "A fitting name for a child born of love and hope, amidst the turmoil of war and strife."

Elia's demeanor shifted as she turned towards Cregan, her expression composed yet warm. "Cregan," she began, her voice gentle, "I am your Aunt Elia. Though we are not bound by blood, it is our shared experiences and the bonds of family that truly define our connection."

Cregan blinked up at Elia, his small hand reaching out tentatively. "Aunt Elia?" he repeated in a soft, curious tone, his young mind processing the new information.

Elia smiled warmly, her heart touched by the innocence of the child before her. "Yes, little one," she replied gently, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I am your Aunt Elia, and I will always be here to watch over you."

Ashara's voice carried a warmth that conveyed both affection and certainty as she spoke to Cregan, "Aunt Elia is like a sister to me, my dearest. We have shared many joys and sorrows together, and her bond with you is as strong as any blood tie. You can trust her, just as you trust me."

Cregan nodded, his young eyes reflecting a sense of understanding beyond his years. Though he may not fully comprehend the complexities of their relationships, he sensed the sincerity in Ashara's words and trusted her assurance without question.

Elia smiled warmly at Cregan, her eyes shining with genuine affection. "Would you like to meet my children, Cregan?" she asked gently. "My daughter Rhaenys will be your friend for life."

Cregan's eyes widened with curiosity as he turned to Elia. "Is it true that Rhaenys is my...bet-rotted?" he stumbled over the word, causing a ripple of laughter to spread through the room. Clearing his throat, he continued, "What does that mean?"

Ashara gently corrected him, her smile warm and indulgent. "It's pronounced 'betrothed,' sweetheart," she said, her voice tender. "It means that Rhaenys will be your special friend, someone you'll spend a lot of time with and care for deeply."

Cregan's brow furrowed in concentration as he absorbed the explanation, nodding in understanding. "Oh," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with newfound comprehension. "So, Rhaenys will be like my best friend forever?"

Elia's smile softened at Cregan's innocent question, her expression imbued with warmth and affection. "Yes, Cregan," she replied, her voice gentle. "Rhaenys will be your special friend, someone you can trust and rely on, just like family."

Cregan's eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of meeting his betrothed, his enthusiasm palpable. "Can I meet her now, Aunt Elia?" he asked eagerly, his youthful curiosity brimming with anticipation.

As Ashara and Elia led Cregan to Elia's tent, Arthur and Ned remained behind, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. In the silence that followed, Arthur turned to Ned, his expression grave yet determined. "We must ensure the safety of Lyanna's child at all costs," he stated firmly, his voice tinged with urgency.

Ned's expression hardened as he absorbed Arthur's words, his mind racing with the weight of their responsibilities. "We've been played for fools," he murmured, his voice heavy with resignation. "But we must learn from our mistakes and ensure that the North's honor remains intact. We owe it to Lyanna, to Cregan, and to all those who have sacrificed for our cause."

Arthur's brow furrowed with concern, his keen eyes fixed on Ned. "What do you mean by being played for fools?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

Ned took a deep breath, the weight of recent events pressing heavily upon him. "We were drawn into this rebellion under false pretenses," he explained. "Robert claimed to fight for Lyanna's honor, but it was never about that. It was about power, about seizing the throne. The North bled for a cause that was twisted and manipulated."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Ned's expression darkened. "It started with Jon Arryn and Robert agreeing to Tywin's demand that Robert marry his daughter, Cersei, despite his betrothal to Lyanna. If Robert truly waged this war to save Lyanna, he wouldn't have entertained such an alliance. It was never about Lyanna—it was about securing power and forming alliances that would ensure Robert's claim to the throne."

Arthur's frown deepened. "And you pieced this together from that?"

Ned nodded. "The pieces began to fall into place when I saw how quickly Robert dismissed Lyanna's death and how readily he embraced Tywin's support. The man who claimed to love my sister didn't hesitate to ally with the very family that orchestrated the downfall of House Targaryen. It was clear then that Robert's motivations were far from noble."

Arthur frowned, digesting Ned's words. "What are you saying, Lord Stark?"

"The final piece of the puzzle was Lyanna stating she left a letter to our father explaining her reasons in her chamber at Riverrun before absconding. A letter that went missing," Ned explained, his voice heavy with the weight of betrayal.

Arthur's eyes widened in realization. "A letter that would have changed everything."

Ned nodded grimly. "Yes. Lyanna wrote to Father, explaining that she went with Rhaegar willingly. That she wasn't abducted but chose to leave. If that letter had been found, it would have exposed the lie at the heart of Robert's rebellion. The North would never have supported a cause built on deceit."

Arthur's face hardened. "Someone made sure that letter disappeared."

Ned's expression darkened. "Robert, Jon Arryn, and Tywin Lannister needed the North's support to win their war. They buried the truth to manipulate us into fighting for their cause."

Arthur shook his head, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. "The North was used, your loyalty twisted for their gain."

Ned clenched his fists, determination replacing his bitterness. "But we won't be manipulated again. We must protect our people, our family, and ensure the North stands strong and united."

He paused, his gaze steely with resolve. "And when the time is right, the North will avenge this slight. For as the saying goes, 'The North Remembers.'"

Arthur nodded, understanding the depth of Ned's resolve. "I will stand with you, Lord Stark. And together, the North and House Targaryen will rise again, stronger and wiser."

Ned's eyes met Arthur's, a shared understanding passing between them. "We will ensure that those who wronged us will never forget the price of their deceit. The North remembers, and the North will have its justice."

With that, the two men stood united in their purpose, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, their resolve unshakable and their loyalty to their respective causes unwavering.

—

Meanwhile, Ashara and Elia led the way to Elia's tent, where Rhaenys and Aegon were being cared for by one of Elia's ladies-in-waiting. As they entered, the scene inside the tent was one of warmth and familial affection.

Rhaenys, a spirited three-year-old with her mother's dark hair and her father's striking purple eyes, looked up with curiosity as they approached. Baby Aegon, still swaddled and cradled in the arms of a caretaker, cooed softly, oblivious to the momentous introductions taking place around him.

Ashara knelt down beside Cregan, her voice gentle as she spoke. "Cregan, this is Rhaenys and Aegon. They are your new friends."

Rhaenys stepped forward, her big eyes wide with interest. "Hello, Cregan," she said, her voice bright and welcoming.

Cregan, his mind that of an eighteen-year-old Harry Potter trapped in the body of a one-year-old, looked at Rhaenys with a mix of curiosity and awareness. He knew the importance of this introduction but was constrained by his infantile body. "Hewwo," he managed, his baby voice stumbling over the word despite his clear thoughts.

Elia smiled warmly at the interaction, her heart lightened by the sight of her daughter and Cregan meeting for the first time. "Rhaenys, this is your betrothed, Cregan," she said gently. "He will be your friend and companion, and one day, you will be wed."

Rhaenys tilted her head, trying to grasp the concept with her three-year-old understanding. "My... betrothed?" she echoed, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Ashara knelt beside Cregan, her voice soft and reassuring. "Yes, Rhaenys. Cregan will be your special friend, and when you both grow up, you will get married."

Cregan, fully aware of the implications despite his one-year-old body, looked at Rhaenys with a mix of curiosity and seriousness. "Hello," he said again, this time with more confidence.

Rhaenys's face brightened, the simplicity of friendship making more sense to her young mind. "Hello, Cregan," she repeated, reaching out and taking his tiny hand in hers. "We'll be good friends."

Elia and Ashara exchanged a glance, their smiles tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty. This bond, forged in innocence and untainted by the complexities of the world, was a small beacon of light in their tumultuous lives.

As the children continued to interact, Cregan felt a sense of warmth and connection. Despite the intricate layers of his past life and the weight of his new identity, this moment of simple friendship brought him a measure of comfort. He looked up at Ashara, who smiled encouragingly at him, and then at Elia, whose eyes were filled with both hope and determination.

In this small, intimate setting, surrounded by those who cared for him, Cregan found a brief respite from the overwhelming responsibilities and hidden truths that shadowed his young life. For now, he could simply be a child meeting a new friend, and that was enough.

---

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