The Pearl of Driftmark

II Corlys' P.O.V

The North, Winterfell – 121 AC

The North was indeed a chilly surprise. I had always known it to be cold, but nothing could have prepared me for the bone-chilling frost that greeted us, even in the midst of summer. White Harbor, with its biting winds and icy air, was a shock to my system, sending shivers down my spine from the moment we arrived. I had thought Driftmark experienced cold weather during the winter months, but it was nothing compared to the bitter coldness of the North. The temperature seemed to drop with every step further north we took, and no number of layers could shield me from its relentless grip.

As we journeyed deeper into the heart of the North, I found myself marveling at the rugged beauty of the landscape, even as I struggled to keep warm. The snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes painted a picturesque scene, but it was a beauty tempered by the harshness of the environment. I could understand why my granddaughter spoke so fondly of a region she had only ever read about, when until a moon ago Lucerys had only been interested in learning about trade and ships.

Arriving at Winterfell was like stepping into another world. The sheer size and grandeur of the castle complex took my breath away, momentarily distracting me from the biting cold that seemed to permeate every corner of the North. Winterfell sprawled across several acres, encircled by towering granite walls that spoke of centuries of history and strength. Outside the walls, the bustling winter town hummed with activity.

We were greeted warmly by Lord Stark and his young son Cregan, whose eager curiosity reminded me of my own grandson Jacaerys back home. They were even around the same age, maybe I should discuss it with Laenor too foster Jace here at Winterfell. Strengthening the crown's bond with the North was always a good idea. And what is better than to have a future king and future Lord Paramount of the North grow up as a foster brother.

Stepping foot into Winterfell felt like stepping into a legend come to life. My son Laenor and I exchanged glances, our awe mirrored in each other's eyes as we tried to conceal our surprise beneath polite smiles. Despite the biting cold that nipped at our skin, the warmth of their welcome eased the chill in the air, and we were soon swept away on a tour of the castle grounds. This was unlike any castle we had ever encountered before, a sprawling fortress that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. The godswood itself was a sight to behold, ancient and mysterious, its towering weirwood trees casting long shadows over the surrounding landscape.

As we ventured deeper into the heart of Winterfell, I marveled at the intricacies of its layout. Dozens of courtyards and open spaces dotted the landscape, each serving a specific purpose, from weapons training to archery practice. The inner ward, with its ancient tower and bustling activity, felt like the beating heart of the castle. And then there was the inner castle itself, a marvel of architecture and design, with diamond-shaped window panes added a touch of elegance to the fortress's rugged exterior and the natural hot springs, their warm waters flowing through the castle walls and chambers, offering a welcome reprieve from the harshness of winter.

As the evening descended upon Winterfell, Laenor and I made our way to the Great Hall. I had impressed upon Laenor the importance of dressing modestly, mindful of the Northern preference for practicality over extravagance. So, we arrived clad in attire befitting the occasion, our garments a reflection of respect for our hosts' customs.

The Great Hall loomed before us, grey stone walls and wide oak doors, weathered by time and use, welcomed us into the heart of Winterfell's hospitality. Inside, the hall stretched out before us, rows of trestle tables flanking a central aisle like soldiers standing at attention. Banners adorned the walls, their colors fluttering in the torchlight. And at the head of the hall, the high table, where once used to sit the throne of the Kings in the North. The Northerns were simplistic and practical, but they sure knew how to make an impression with a few details. No wonder they were so feared, this hall on its own was more imposing than anything Viserys had ever tried.