A dragon.
A species that had ended the strife among the Seven Kingdoms before Aegon's Conquest, only to vanish with the fall of the Targaryen Dynasty.
Now a living dragon, stranger even than those of legend, stood before them!
Here in Winterfell, the heart of the North.
They simply could not understand.
Why had a dragon appeared in the North?
This was... utterly absurd.
The blood-red head on the right clearly relished the terror of these two strangers.
A threatening rumble rose in its throat as it stepped forward, exposing a mouthful of fine, sharp teeth.
"In the name of the Old Gods and the New..."
Robb instinctively pressed his hand to his sword hilt and stepped in front of Maester Luwin.
He could feel the scorching heat radiating from the creature, along with a fear that stirred deep in his blood.
"Lykirī."
Lynn calmly uttered a single word.
The ill-tempered, blood-red head froze, then tossed in defiance.
In the end, under Lynn's gaze, it reluctantly retreated and lay down again.
That sight shook Robb even more than the dragon's very existence.
Lynn... he could actually command a dragon!
Maester Luwin's lips trembled. He had to brace himself against the table to stay upright.
Those eyes, so full of wisdom, now held nothing but horror.
He pointed at Dark Sister at Lynn's waist, then at Winter on the floor, his voice rising out of pitch.
"A Targaryen sword... a Targaryen dragon..."
"Lynn, you..."
He wanted to ask, but did not know where to begin.
Who exactly was Lynn?
How many more secrets did he hold that would overturn everything they knew?
"Its name is Winter."
Lynn did not explain where the sword had come from. He merely reached out and gently stroked the smooth scales of Winter's middle head.
"I