As dawn cast a pale light over King's Landing, illuminating the Red Keep in shades of gold and crimson, Hadrian Peverell strode through its sprawling corridors, marveling at the scale and intricate craftsmanship. Each turn led him through towering arches, sweeping halls, and high, stained-glass windows that cast multicolored hues onto the stone floors. In the North, he had been struck by the stark strength of Winterfell's walls, the quiet power of the keep. White Harbor had offered another example of grandeur with its elegance and maritime heritage. But here in King's Landing, everything from the Red Keep's towering spires to its maze of passages spoke of ambition, wealth, and power unlike anything Hadrian had encountered.
The Red Keep's grandeur awakened a sense of ambition in him, one he hadn't felt since his earliest days on Skagos. Norhall, his own seat, was a symbol of his family's rise and the industrious spirit that had reshaped Skagos from obscurity into a growing power in the North. Yet as he walked the Red Keep's halls, it was as if Norhall's sturdy walls paled in comparison, becoming a mere echo of the stone giants that loomed around him. Here, he saw what was possible when ambition, resources, and vision combined, and the old wizard in him stirred with ideas.
"It is impressive," Kreacher muttered beside him, his voice a grudging whisper as he took in the surroundings with an uncharacteristic glimmer of interest. The old house-elf rarely voiced approval, least of all for anything southern, but even he seemed entranced by the scale and beauty of the Red Keep.
Hadrian glanced down at him, smiling faintly. "It is. Look around, Kreacher. Every stone here tells a story—of ambition, conquest, and resilience. I see now why the Targaryens built it as they did. They wanted all who entered their halls to feel the power of their dynasty."
Kreacher sniffed, his wrinkled nose twitching in his own expression of grudging respect. "The Targaryens may have their dragons, Master Hadrian, but their keep is no more than stone and mortar in the end. It is the magic in the North that has true endurance. Why, Norhall alone could rival even this keep, if it had a few... modifications."
Hadrian chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure it could. But that's precisely the point, isn't it?" He gestured to the high arches above them. "Each piece of stone was placed here with purpose, and every corridor and chamber built to convey the might of House Targaryen. Norhall deserves its own story, one that will make all who enter it feel the weight of Skagos's strength and history."
They continued on, moving from one hall to another, each turn revealing yet another display of the Keep's architectural prowess. Hadrian couldn't help but linger over the finely carved columns, the elaborate tapestries telling the Targaryen saga, and the vaulting ceilings painted with scenes of dragons soaring over Westeros. The Red Keep, he realized, was more than just a castle—it was a testament to the power of those who had dared to dream beyond their limits.
In the quiet, contemplative moments, his thoughts turned to Norhall. The castle he had built on Skagos was a seat of strength and a beacon for his people, but he saw now that it was merely a beginning. If Skagos was to rival the greatest cities and castles of Westeros, it would require vision and ambition to transform Norhall into a seat that could endure as a symbol of the Peverell legacy.
After a time, Hadrian found himself wandering into the castle library. It was quieter here, the thick stone walls absorbing the hum of voices and distant clang of metal in the training yard. Shelves of ancient tomes lined the room, each spine marked with the faded insignia of House Targaryen. It was a repository of knowledge—of history, strategy, and the secrets of the ancient families that had risen and fallen long before the Targaryens' arrival.
He pulled a heavy volume from the shelf, flipping through pages that detailed the designs of various fortresses across the realm. There was Harrenhal with its colossal walls, Storm's End built to withstand the mightiest of storms, and the Eyrie perched high above the clouds. Each castle was crafted with an eye to its surrounding landscape, making it a unique blend of function and power. Hadrian realized that to create Norhall in the image he now envisioned, it would need to embody Skagos itself—its fierce isolation, its raw beauty, and its resilient spirit.
Engrossed in thought, he began sketching a rough layout on a piece of parchment. He imagined soaring towers, thick stone walls, and a central hall grand enough to hold a gathering of all the Northern lords if necessary. He envisioned a sweeping courtyard surrounded by ramparts, from where his people could look out over the vast, icy expanse of Skagos. And perhaps a series of hidden passages and chambers—a wizard's touch to give Norhall its own sense of mystery.
"Building a castle is one thing," Kreacher remarked, leaning over to peer at the sketch. "Making it feel like a stronghold worthy of the Peverell name is another. It will require more than stone and mortar."
"Yes, it will," Hadrian agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It will require a sense of purpose, a symbol of what Skagos can become. And it will require us to infuse it with the strength that has kept our people going through generations of hardship."
With renewed resolve, Hadrian set aside the parchment, his mind alive with ideas. He imagined how Norhall could be a place of both refuge and pride, a haven for the people of Skagos, a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity. It was all that at the moment yes, but not in the grandeur that the castles of Westeros demanded it was more on the side of the seat of a rich minor house and that was not enough for the High Lord of Skagos, maybe for one of the future minor lords of the skagosi isles but not for him. And in the quiet corners of his thoughts, he dared to imagine it as a fortress that could stand tall against any foe, be they from within Westeros or beyond.
After leaving the library, Hadrian and Kreacher continued their exploration of the Red Keep, winding through its many layers. They passed through the training yard, where young knights practiced their swordplay, and strolled through the Queen's Garden, where delicate flowers bloomed despite the chill in the air. It was a place of beauty, but also one that masked the deadly power residing within the castle walls.
As the afternoon faded into evening, Hadrian felt the weight of his ambitions settling upon him. Transforming Norhall into a symbol that could rival the Red Keep would not be an easy task, nor would it be quick. But he knew that if he wanted Skagos to take its place among the powers of Westeros, Norhall would have to become more than just a good looking stronghold. It would have to become a beacon of hope and strength for his people—a testament to the resilience that defined the land of Skagos.
Back in his quarters, Hadrian sat by the fire, staring into the flickering flames as he planned. He would gather the finest architects and stonemasons, some perhaps even from the South. He would need resources—stone, iron, wood, and perhaps even glass to create windows that could illuminate the halls of Norhall. And he would need time and patience, for a castle of such magnitude could not be built overnight at least not one night.
Kreacher, ever observant, watched him from across the room. "You're thinking of changing Norhall," the elf remarked, his tone both skeptical and intrigued.
Hadrian nodded, looking at his loyal servant with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "I am. It is time Norhall becomes the heart of Skagos in every way. A place where our people can look up and see the strength of their own heritage."
Kreacher's gaze softened, his usual skepticism giving way to a faint smile. "Then we'll make it happen, Master Hadrian. If you wish for Norhall to be a beacon of Skagos's strength, then I shall see to it that it is built to endure."
As they were talking they were interrupted.
"My Lord the Kings ummens you to his solar."