000.

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
THE TIME their eyes locked, time froze.
It was the day of their marriage, a day painted in the hues of anticipation and trepidation. The great hall of Winterfell stood adorned for the occasion, its stone walls echoing the whispers of history and the laughter of guests. Torches flickered, casting warm light that danced against the cold, hard surfaces, creating an almost ethereal glow.
At the center of this grand hall, adorned in fine Targaryen silk, Princess Maelys Targaryen stood, her heart a tempest of emotions. Her gown, a deep crimson with golden embroidery, flowed around her like a living flame, its richness a testament to her royal heritage. Each breath she took was heavy with the weight of expectation, not just for herself but for the legacy of her family.
Across the room, Lord Cregan Stark awaited, his presence commanding yet calm. Dressed in the stark gray and black of his house, he seemed to embody the very essence of Winterfell—unyielding and fierce, yet with a warmth hidden beneath the surface. His dark hair fell just above his brooding eyes, which held a mixture of curiosity and resolve. As he stepped forward, the noise of the celebration faded into a soft murmur, as if the world itself was attuned to the gravity of this moment.
When Maelys and Cregan finally met in the center of the hall, the air between them crackled with unspoken words. Her violet eyes, reminiscent of amethysts, searched his steel-gray gaze, and she felt an unexpected flutter in her chest. Was it fear? Excitement? Or perhaps a blend of both? In that fleeting moment, she realized they were not merely two individuals bound by duty; they were the first threads of a new tapestry, woven together by fate and obligation.
Cregan's expression remained stoic, but beneath the mask of decorum, Maelys sensed the storm of his thoughts. This was not just a marriage of convenience; it was a union meant to solidify alliances and bring strength to their houses. Still, she held onto the hope that there could be something more—something genuine that could blossom amidst the rigid expectations of their families.
As the priest began to chant the sacred vows, Maelys stole a glance at the guests gathered around. She could see the curious eyes of nobles from various houses, each one scrutinizing the young couple. The whispers began again, weaving tales of what this marriage could mean for the North and the Targaryens, and Maelys felt her heart race. Would they accept her? Would she be a stranger in this new home, forever an outsider?
The moment of truth arrived. "Do you, Princess Maelys Targaryen, take Lord Cregan Stark as your husband?" the priest's voice rang out, echoing in the hushed hall. Maelys swallowed hard, her resolve strengthening. "I do," she proclaimed, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts.
"And do you, Lord Cregan Stark, take Princess Maelys Targaryen as your wife?" The question hung in the air, the weight of it heavy with meaning. Cregan stepped closer, the space between them shrinking, and Maelys felt the intensity of his gaze. "I do," he replied, his voice firm and resolute.
With those two simple words, the world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them—two souls bound by fate, yet seeking their own path. The marriage was more than a contract; it was a pact forged in the fire of their family histories, a chance to carve out a future that held nothing but duty.
As they exchanged rings, Maelys felt the cool metal against her skin, a tangible reminder of the bond they had yet to form. With the final blessing pronounced, the hall erupted into applause, but Maelys was lost in the moment. The time their eyes locked had been a mere glimpse into a future filled with uncertainty.

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          



TIA SPEAKS !
While this story doesn't strictly adhere to the HoTD timeline, I've made some adjustments to the plotline. Rest assured, everything will come together by the end!
This story contains sexual themes, elements of power struggles and it is a slowburn. Please proceed with caution if these topics may be sensitive for you.
This book may contain language and grammar errors as English is not my first language. Thank you for your understanding and patience as you read.
I do not own any characters from House of the Dragon or any related works. All rights to the original characters and storyline belong to George R.R. Martin and HBO. However, I do own my original characters. This story is a work of fan fiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.