106 AC
Rhaenyra POV
The air, even through the thick furs, was a brutal, unrelenting cold, a stark contrast to the humid warmth of King's Landing. For two weeks, the ship had been my world, a rocking prison of creaking timbers and the ceaseless roar of the sea. Elinda Massey and Sarisa Blackwood, huddled beside me, looked as weary and chilled as I felt. Even the fifty royal guards, including Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk Cargyll, seemed to shrink within their cloaks, their armor doing little against the biting wind.
Then, a shout from the lookout, a voice cutting through the mist and spray: "Land ho! White Harbor!"
I pushed myself up onto the deck, bracing against the icy wind. And there it was. White Harbor. It was vast, far larger than any Southern city I'd imagined, its stout stone walls rising from the water, a forest of masts filling the busy harbor.
As our galley eased its way towards the quay, the sounds of the city washed over me: gulls crying, ropes groaning, dockhands shouting. A group of Northmen stood waiting, their forms sturdy, their faces unreadable. At their head was a man of considerable girth, dressed in rich, sea-green velvets. This must be Lord Willas Manderly, the Shield of the White Knife.
The gangplank lowered, and a jarring thud against the stone. Stepping onto Northern soil, the cold bit instantly, sharp and invigorating. Lord Willas bowed low, a surprisingly deep, respectful incline for a man of his size.
"Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen," his voice was warm, a deep rumble. "Welcome to White Harbor. Welcome to Asgard."
He then presented a small, wooden platter: a loaf of bread and a mound of salt. "We offer you bread and salt, Princess, that you may taste the bounty of our lands and be assured of our protection and hospitality, under the ancient laws of guest right."
Guest right, of course. I took a piece of bread, dipped it in the salt, and brought it to my lips. It was coarse, plain. Elinda and Sarisa followed suit, as did the Cargyll twins, their faces impassive.
"Thank you, Lord Manderly," I replied, my voice steady, though I could feel the cold seeping into my bones. "Your hospitality is most appreciated. It has been a long journey."
"Indeed, Princess," Lord Willas said, a genuine, friendly smile on his face. "You and your companions will rest here in the New Castle tonight. We'll see to a proper breaking of the fast before your journey inland tomorrow." He gestured towards a waiting carriage, a surprisingly elegant vehicle. "This, Princess, is White Harbor. It is the largest city in all of Asgard. The gateway to the North, where the White Knife meets the sea, and where our trade flows out to all corners of the world. It is the heart of our commerce and a testament to the strength we have found in our newfound independence."
The carriage ride through the city was surprisingly smooth. We made our way through the city, the city was massive not just its size, but it is also in remarkable order. The roads radiating from the docks were wide, clean, and incredibly smooth, paved with what looked like polished black stone, entirely unlike the muddy, rutted tracks of King's Landing. Every house, even those closest to the docks, was well-built, constructed of sturdy stone with smoking chimneys and glinting glass windows. Small, neat gardens bloomed with hardy winter flowers, even in this biting cold. This wasn't merely a port city; it was a flourishing, meticulously managed city. The concrete roads truly were a marvel, the wheels gliding over them with barely a bump. We passed thriving markets, busy guilds, and more of those well-built, neat homes. This was a city that worked, that had invested in itself. It was almost jarringly advanced compared to the chaos of King's Landing's streets.
Soon, we arrived at the New Castle, a grand, impressive fortress rising from the harbor. As we stepped inside, the chill left me, replaced by the warmth of roaring hearths and the scent of woodsmoke and roasted meat. Lord Willas led us into a spacious hall.
"Princess," he announced, gesturing to a young woman and a stern-looking man standing beside him, "allow me to present my family. This is my son, Ser Wylis Manderly, and my daughter, Lady Wylla Manderly. Wylla, if you would be so kind as to show the Princess and her companions to their chambers? They must be weary from their voyage."
Lady Wylla, a strong-faced girl with kind eyes, curtsied. "Of course, Father. This way, Princess."
I nodded, grateful for the respite. My journey into Asgard, into this strange, advanced North, had truly begun.
Lady Wylla Manderly led us through surprisingly grand corridors to our assigned rooms, well-appointed and warm. The windows, unlike the small, leaded panes I was accustomed to in King's Landing, were large sheets of clear glass, letting in an abundance of soft, grey light. She showed us the chambers, explained the simple workings of the taps for running water – another unexpected marvel – and then, with a curtsy, took her leave, promising to send a maid when it was time for the feast. It was still only five in the evening, the day long in these northern climes.
Once she was gone, Elinda and Sarisa immediately began chattering about the city. "Did you see those roads, Princess?" Elinda exclaimed, her eyes wide. "So smooth! I've never ridden in a carriage so comfortably in King's Landing."
"And the houses," Sarisa added, peering out the window. "So neat, so orderly. Even the common folk seem to live better than most of the smallfolk in the capital."
My attention, however, was drawn to a peculiar object hanging near the ceiling. It was a clear glass sphere, about the size of a fist, connected to a curious, stretchy cord that snaked down the wall. "What is this?" I asked, pointing.
Elinda and Sarisa looked at it, puzzled. "Perhaps a new kind of oil lamp?" Elinda ventured, though it had no wick.
"Or some sort of decorative bauble?" Sarisa suggested. We poked at it, prodded it, but could make no sense of its purpose. After a while, we gave up and began preparing for the evening feast, laying out our finest gowns.
As we were in the midst of dressing, the room was suddenly, startlingly, filled with light. The glass bulb by the ceiling had begun to shine, emitting a steady, brilliant glow. We all stared, astonished.
"Gods!" Sarisa gasped, reaching out a hesitant finger. She touched it, then yelped, snatching her hand back. "It's hot!"
Elinda, ever curious, touched it next, cautiously at first, then pulled away with a similar exclamation. "She's right, Princess! It burns!"
Then it was my turn. I reached out, my curiosity outweighing my apprehension. My fingers closed around the warm, smooth glass. But instead of the searing heat they described, all I felt was a pleasant, gentle warmth, like a stone heated by the sun.
"It feels warm," I stated, genuinely bewildered.
"Warm?" Elinda and Sarisa cried in unison, their voices incredulous. "Doesn't it burn you, Princess?"
"No," I replied, still holding it. "Just warm." They tried again, pressing their fingers to the glass, but both recoiled instantly. "It's still hot!" Sarisa insisted.
We were still debating this strange phenomenon when a maid arrived to announce that the feast was ready. As we made our way through the castle corridors, a question burned within me.
"Maid," I asked, pointing to similar glowing spheres spaced along the walls, illuminating our path. "What are these… these light balls? All around the castle?"
The maid smiled, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Those are light bulbs, Princess," she explained. "An invention from the College of Winterhold. They light castle halls. instead of candles and torches."
Light bulbs. An invention. My mind reeled. This was not just a prospering kingdom; it was a place of true innovation. We finally reached the Great Hall, and my jaw nearly dropped. It was utterly transformed. The usual smoky gloom of a feast hall was gone, replaced by a brilliant, consistent illumination. Hundreds of these light bulbs were affixed to the walls, casting a soft, even glow, and from the very center of the vaulted ceiling hung a single, magnificent bulb, far larger than the others, encased in an intricately designed metal fixture. The entire hall was bathed in a clear, bright light, making every face visible, every detail sharp. This was a different world.
Lord Willas Manderly rose from his seat at the high table as we entered the Great Hall, his broad smile a beacon in the brightly lit space. "Princess Rhaenyra! Welcome! Please, take your seats." He gestured to the places reserved for us, near the high table but not directly beside him. I settled into the plush seat, Elinda and Sarisa on either side, marveling at the sheer, consistent brilliance of the hall.
"Ayara, food!" Lord Manderly boomed, and almost instantly, servants moved with practiced efficiency, placing trenchers of steaming roast lamb, fresh-caught fish, and rich, dark bread before us.
"Is your room comfortable, Princess?" Lord Willas asked, his eyes twinkling.
"More than comfortable, Lord Manderly," I replied genuinely. "And the city... it is truly magnificent. The roads are unlike anything I've ever seen, and the houses, so well-built, even with glass in every window. And the castle, of course, is splendid."
He chuckled, a rumbling sound. "Ah, yes, the glass and the roads. Marks of progress, Princess. And the lights..." He gestured around the hall, encompassing the hundreds of glowing spheres. "These are but a taste of what the College of Winterhold has brought us. Light bulbs, they call them. An invention that has utterly transformed our nights."
My gaze drifted to the massive, intricately designed sphere hanging from the center of the ceiling. "And that one?" I asked, pointing. "It's enormous."
"That, Princess," Lord Willas said proudly, "is a chandelier of light bulbs, the largest we have yet commissioned. It casts light over our entire feasting hall as if it were midday. No more smoky torches, no more flickering candles. Just pure, clean light. It is a testament to the ingenuity fostered in Asgard."
The conversation flowed easily from there. We spoke of the Manderly trade routes, the abundance of fish in the Bay of Seals, and the surprising mildness of White Harbor's winter compared to the rest of the North. Lord Willas was a gracious host, his questions about King's Landing polite, never prying too deeply into the recent troubles. I found myself relaxing, despite the alien surroundings and the weight of my mission.
After a feast that seemed to stretch for hours, replete with hearty Northern fare and surprisingly sweet drinks, I finally retired to my chambers with Elinda and Sarisa. The light bulbs hummed faintly, casting a warm glow on the unfamiliar room.
"I still can't believe it," Elinda whispered, gazing at the glowing sphere. "No wicks, no oil... just light."
"And the roads," Sarisa chimed in, "and the glass in every window! It's like a different world, isn't it, Princess?"
I nodded, peeling off my heavy gown. "It is. My father spoke of their advancements, but to see them... it's quite another thing entirely. And that Lord Manderly, he seems... kind."
"He certainly does," Elinda agreed. "Though he is a Northman, for all his fine silks."
"They are different," I mused, remembering my father's words. "But perhaps not in the ways we imagined." We spoke for a while longer, discussing the wonders of White Harbor and the daunting journey ahead to Winterhold. Eventually, the weariness of the long voyage and the rich food claimed us, and we drifted off to sleep under the steady, silent glow of the light bulb.
The next morning, after a hearty breaking of the fast with Lord Willas, we began our preparations. The carriage, surprisingly comfortable and smooth, awaited us outside the New Castle. Ahead lay the long journey to Winterfell, and beyond that, the unknown challenges and lessons of Winterhold College. The North, Asgard, was already proving to be far more than I had ever anticipated.