---

Meereen – The Bloody Pits

The people of Meereen filled the fighting pits once again, buzzing with energy and excitement. For the first time in years, there was no slave blood spilled, only spectacle—and they were starved for it.

Word had spread quickly.

A duel between Daario Naharis, champion of the Second Sons and commander to their Queen, versus a foreign lord—a Northerner, rumored to be "The Wolf of the Ruins." Some called him the Bloody Wolf, others whispered he was death in a man's form. Either way, it would be a fight they would remember.

Daario was beloved. Charismatic. Dashing. Cunning.

The foreigner, though...

He was quiet. Cold. Blunt. Dangerous.

From the first clash, the crowd was entranced. Daario danced with his twin blades, showy and swift. But the wolf fought like a force of nature—blows that hammered, dodges that came from instinct, not training.

At first, Daario had the upper hand. The crowd roared.

But as the minutes passed, momentum shifted.

The Northman adapted, his eyes sharp, calculating. He absorbed Daario's movements like a predator studying prey. And then...

He began to overwhelm him.

When the fight ended, it was with savage finality. Daario was disarmed, knocked to the ground, bleeding, and helpless. Cregan Stark carved a wolf sigil into the chest of a still-breathing man.

The crowd gasped in horror. Some fainted, others booed, but none dared speak loudly. Because when the foreigner turned to them, his voice cold and commanding, the silence became absolute.

"This is what happens when you poke the wolf and his pack."

Not a soul dared cheer.

From that moment, no one in Meereen—perhaps in Essos—dared speak his name with mockery again.

---

Company of the Rose

Edwyle Snow, watching from the edge of the pit, felt both pride and unease as he watched his cousin work.

There, covered in blood, Cregan Stark stood as living proof of his name—The Bloody Wolf.

Men who had once grumbled at his methods now looked on in awe. Respect deepened. Fear rooted itself in loyalty.

"He survives dragonfire," Edwyle murmured, "and now this."

To them, he wasn't just a commander. He was a myth in the making.

He was brutal and his men seeing him doing that they feared him more but also respect increased in them because he was fighting for them . So they don't die fighting the dragons.

They now more confident that Thier leader is invincible and they just have to follow him and win every time . He survives dragon fire and now this . They believed Cregan Stark to be unkillable in any circumstances.

---

Queen Daenerys Targaryen

Daenerys had winced at the sight of the violence, but kept her composure. She was Queen. She would not flinch.

And yet… as Cregan turned and addressed her with blood still dripping from his hands, she felt more than just anger. She felt the weight of his words.

"You may see this as disrespect, or interpret it as you will. But hear me well—this is advice born not of defiance, but of hard truth.

History matters. Tradition matters. The North remembers.

My namesake remembered; my father remembered—each of them shaped by their circumstances, yet bound by the same unyielding legacy.

Oaths are not one-sided—they bind both the giver and the receiver.

If you truly seek to conquer and endure, study your real history. Learn the cultures you wish to rule. Because no matter how vast your dragons' wingspan... victory will never love you.

We both carry names that command respect, not just fear. And it's through honoring what they stand for—not rewriting them—that true power is forged."

Daenerys was angry, but more than that, she was confused. Intrigued. Unsettled.

"End his suffering," she ordered flatly. "Give him mercy."

Grey Worm obeyed without a word, quickly ending Daario's pain. He did not look away, but he was shaken. Even he wondered—

Could I protect her from him if it came to that?

---

Dragons

From above, Drogon watched the scene with a low growl.

He had seen his rival—the wolf-beast—tear into a human and mark them like a beast of territory. Drogon longed to burn his mark into an enemy's flesh the same way.

That stirred something inside Drogon he didn't understand.

Rhaegal, curious and quiet, observed the wolf. He was learning. Wolves were dangerous. But something about Cregan fascinated him. He'd seen men cower at fire—this one did not.

Viserion chirped, nervous and excited. He remembered the wolf patting him days ago. He had seemed nice then—now, terrifying.

Even the dragons were unsure of what to make of the beast who could face dragonfire… and laugh.

---

That Night – In the Queen's Solar

Daenerys sat in her chambers, the fire dimmed. Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, and Missandei were present, the tension lingering.

She turned to Jorah, breaking the silence.

"Do you understand what he meant? At the end?"

Jorah hesitated, then nodded. "Aye. Somewhat. Northern part"

He glanced at the others. Grey Worm watched with furrowed brow. Missandei waited patiently.

"His name… Cregan. It is not random," Jorah began slowly. "He's named after one of the greatest Stark warriors in history—Cregan Stark, the 'Old Man of the North.' A swordsman so feared, even Aemon the Dragonknight said he was the most formidable man he ever crossed blades with."

Jorah's tone was reverent.

"Cregan declared for Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen during the Dance of the Dragons. He sent 3000 men to south and thier orders were to die for the queen.His armies helped bring down Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole the Kingmaker, Both important to greens . Even when he arrived late, he claimed the capital in six days, executed traitors, and protected the young King Aegon III. Then, he left the city… without taking power. He was the sole reason that any more Targaryens weren't killed or controlled in that era."

Daenerys blinked. "He… was loyal?"

"To a Queen who honored her word. To a realm that kept oaths. The North remembers, Your Grace… both loyalty and vengeance.He wanted to say that His namesake rembered loyalty and His father Vengeance not for the sake of power but actions if Targaryens . "

Missandei looked up. "He meant the Starks choose when to give which."

Jorah nodded. "Exactly."

Daenerys was silent.

She thought she understood Northerners—stubborn, honorable. But this was different. This was a kind of memory that bore teeth.

If she was to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she had to reckon with those who would not bend.

And worse still—those who had every reason not to.

Ser Jorah feeling nostalgic "In north there are no loyalty to Dragons or even stags only to the wolves. My house , my father refused to bend the knee to King Robbert and said he only bend the knee to the Starks."

---

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