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novaursa · 2 months ago

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The Northern Heart (1/2)

- Summary: Your father, King Robert, gives your hand to Eddard's oldest son. A decision that might change the future of the North.

- Paring: baratheon!lannister!reader/Robb Stark

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: 2/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The journey north had been long and tiring, and the wind was colder than you’d imagined. Winterfell loomed ahead, dark stone against an overcast sky, its towers casting jagged shadows. The North was starkly beautiful in a way the warm halls of the Red Keep could never match. You adjusted the fur-lined cloak clasped at your neck, the black of House Baratheon contrasting with the lion clasp, a quiet nod to the Lannister blood that ran through you, though it was not yours to display openly.

Your mother, Cersei, rode beside you, her green eyes scanning Winterfell with an air of disdain barely hidden beneath her serene mask. She sat tall, ever the queen, her golden hair gleaming in the pale sunlight. Your brothers, Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, rode behind, their bright golden heads standing out against the muted grays of Winterfell’s walls. And your father—no, King Robert—was ahead, already bellowing greetings at the sight of the Stark family awaiting them in the courtyard.

As the procession slowed to a halt, you dismounted gracefully, though your legs ached from days of riding. Your mother’s eyes swept over you, a flicker of approval in them as you adjusted your cloak, falling in line with her and your siblings. As Robert strode forward, eager to greet his old friend Eddard Stark, you remained back, your place clear beside Cersei. You caught her eye, and she offered a subtle nod, a reminder to stay poised, as she always did.

Ahead, Robert greeted Eddard with a boisterous hug, their laughter carrying through the courtyard. Your gaze wandered to the family gathered at Lord Stark’s side. Lady Stark, her auburn hair swept back, her expression cool but welcoming. The young ones were gathered around her, curiosity and interest clear in their eyes. But it was the young man at Eddard Stark’s side, tall and broad-shouldered, that drew your attention.

Robb Stark.

His auburn hair matched his mother’s, and his face, though youthful, already held the strength and quiet intensity of his father. He was watching you—or rather, he’d been looking toward your family in general, but now his gaze lingered on you, his blue eyes tracing your features with a kind of hesitant awe. He was handsome, undeniably so, and the confidence you’d honed over years of court life faltered, just slightly, under the weight of that gaze.

You looked away, hoping the color rising in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joffrey watching the Starks with open disdain, but you ignored him. Instead, you found yourself glancing back at Robb, curious despite yourself, and caught him still looking at you.

“What do you think of the Starks, sister?” Myrcella asked beside you, her sweet voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned closer to her, eyes flickering toward Cersei before answering. “They seem… honorable,” you murmured, struggling for a word that felt right. The North was a world apart from King’s Landing, and the weight of the Northern air, the forthright gazes, all of it felt different—real.

Meanwhile, Robert’s booming laughter filled the air as he clapped Eddard on the back. “It’s been too damn long, Ned!” he declared, his voice echoing through the courtyard. “Seven hells, I’ve missed this place. And your family—look at them, already grown!”

Lord Stark’s smile was reserved, but you could see warmth in his eyes. “The years have been kind to us both, Robert. And you’ve brought your own family north. It’s an honor to welcome them here.”

Robert looked back over his shoulder, waving an arm toward you, Cersei, and the children. “Aye, they’re a fine brood, aren’t they?” His gaze settled on you briefly, pride flickering there. “My eldest,” he said, his tone softening. “She takes after her mother in beauty, but she’s got her father’s spirit, I’d say.”

Your mother’s lips curved into a perfect, practiced smile at his words, though you could sense the strain in her. She inclined her head gracefully, accepting the compliment on your behalf.

“Princess Y/N,” Eddard said, nodding in your direction, “Winterfell welcomes you.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” you replied, keeping your tone formal, though your voice was soft. Cersei’s fingers brushed your arm briefly, a reminder not to be too bold or warm. “The honor is ours.”

But it was not Eddard’s gaze you felt lingering on you. Robb stood a step behind his father, his blue eyes keen and watchful. There was something gentle, almost reverent in the way he looked at you, and for reasons you couldn’t quite place, that small expression made your heart race.

“Robb,” Eddard said, his voice low but carrying the authority of a father and lord, “come and meet the king’s family.”

Robb stepped forward, his movements steady, though he appeared young and nervous beneath his composure. He nodded to Robert first and then looked back at you with an intensity that seemed almost out of place in the quiet courtyard. “Princess,” he said, his voice steady though softer than you’d expected. “It’s an honor.”

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you fought it back, simply inclining your head. “The honor is shared, Lord Robb,” you replied.

It was a simple exchange, but in that moment, it felt like more.

The air in the crypts was cold and heavy with the scent of stone and earth, the silence settling thickly around Eddard and Robert as they descended the worn steps into the shadows. Torches flickered in their iron brackets, casting long, twisting shadows over the figures immortalized in stone, ancient Stark kings and lords gazing solemnly from their resting places.

Robert paused in front of a statue, his face softened by the flickering light. His eyes, usually sharp with mirth or tempered with anger, now held something else—a quiet, lingering sadness that Ned hadn’t seen in years. Robert reached out and placed a rough hand against the face of the woman immortalized there in cold stone: Lyanna Stark, her face carved with a gentle beauty that no craftsman’s hands could ever fully capture. Flowers lay scattered at the base of her statue, their colors muted in the dim torchlight. Ned had left them there just the day before, a gesture of memory and honor.

“She was always so damn beautiful, wasn’t she?” Robert’s voice was low, almost reverent. “And all of this, everything, might have been different if she’d been mine. If Rhaegar hadn’t…” He trailed off, bitterness tightening his jaw.

“Aye,” Eddard replied, his voice as soft as the stillness around them. “The gods saw fit to tear us all down that day.”

Robert nodded slowly, lost in thought, his fingers brushing over the stone flowers woven into Lyanna’s statue. “I asked you here for more than just memories, Ned.” He turned, his gaze sharpening. “The realm is… not as it should be. I am surrounded by vipers and whisperers. I need someone I can trust.” His voice lowered, taking on a familiar intensity. “I need you, Ned. I want you to be my Hand.”

Eddard met Robert’s gaze, his heart heavy. “Robert… I’m no statesman. The North is my place. I don’t belong in the South, nor do my children.”

“That’s exactly why I need you.” Robert stepped closer, his face earnest, imploring. “You’re honest, Ned. You’ll do what’s right, even if it’s hard, even if it costs you. The realm needs someone like you. I need someone like you.”

Ned sighed, his eyes drifting back to Lyanna’s statue, the ache of old wounds stirring within him. “And what of the North? My children… they need me too.”

Robert nodded, understanding yet unyielding. “Bring them with you,” he said, voice steady. “Let them know the court. Let them see the world beyond the walls of Winterfell.” He hesitated, his gaze shifting, something almost hesitant in his expression. “In fact… I have an idea. A way to unite our Houses, as we should have done, as Lyanna and I would have done.”

Eddard turned back to him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Robert’s eyes gleamed, a spark of hope breaking through the sorrow that lingered in them. “A marriage pact, Ned. We unite our bloodlines, our families.” He straightened, his voice taking on the tone of a king. “My son, Joffrey, and your daughter, Sansa. And…” He paused, eyes narrowing in thought. “My eldest daughter, Y/N, to your son, Robb.”

Eddard’s expression tightened, surprise flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth, hesitating, his mind racing with the implications of Robert’s proposal. “A match between our children…” he murmured, almost to himself. “You truly wish this, Robert?”

Robert nodded, his voice softening. “It’s what I always wanted, Ned. To be part of your family, for our blood to be bound together.” He glanced back at Lyanna’s statue, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “I wanted your sister… and though the gods were cruel enough to take that from me, this… this could be a way to bring our houses together, as it should have been.”

Ned felt the weight of the proposal settling on him, his mind turning over the idea of Sansa with Joffrey and Robb with Y/N. “Sansa is still a child,” he began carefully, “and Robb… he’s young yet. I’d want to speak with them both. And Catelyn.”

Robert nodded. “Of course. But think of it, Ned. You have a son and a daughter, and I have a son and a daughter of age.” He straightened, the gleam of determination in his eyes returning. “Sansa would be queen one day. And your son… Robb would be heir to the North, united to the blood of both Baratheon and Lannister.”

Ned frowned. “The girl… Y/N,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “She has Lannister blood, Robert. I know how you feel about her mother’s family.”

Robert’s face darkened briefly, his gaze hardening. “Aye, Cersei is a Lannister. But Y/N is my daughter too. She carries the blood of my House, and though she bears the lion on her face, there’s stag in her heart.” His tone softened, almost pleading. “Ned, she’s not her mother. She’s…” He paused, searching for words, “She’s got fire, spirit, and I want her to know a man like your son. One of true honor, not some… viper of the South.”

Eddard considered this, his mind drifting to Robb. His son, dutiful, strong, and honorable—a match for any in the realm. And Y/N… she’d seemed poised, striking in the courtyard, with that quiet grace he’d seen in only a few women. He thought of Sansa, who had dreamed of becoming queen since she was a little girl, and his heart ached.

“Let me speak with Catelyn,” he said finally, his voice steady. “And with my children.”

Robert clapped a hand on his shoulder, a grin breaking through his somber expression. “I knew I could count on you, Ned. Together, our families could be what the realm needs. Strong, united.”

They turned to leave, but Robert lingered a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Lyanna’s stone face, his eyes shadowed with memories.

“Tell me, Ned,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper, “do you think she would have loved me?”

Eddard’s heart ached, the answer lodged somewhere deep, known only to him. “She was her own woman, Robert,” he replied softly. “And the gods alone know what lies in the hearts of the dead.”

Robert nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, tinged with sorrow. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, his voice growing firmer. He tore his gaze away from Lyanna’s statue, focusing on the path ahead.

“Come then,” he said, his tone lightening as he turned to face the stairs. “Let us speak of the future and leave the past to rest.”

And together, they left the crypts, the echoes of their footsteps fading into the silent halls where shadows lingered, bearing witness to the choices that would shape their families and the realm.

Here, by the fire’s light of private chambers, shadows softened, and the familiar scents of woodsmoke and winter roses made the space feel like a retreat. Catelyn sat across from Eddard, her brow furrowed as she listened to his words, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Nearby, Robb and Sansa sat side by side, both listening intently. Bran, Arya, and Rickon were sprawled around the room, though Arya’s restless gaze and occasional sharp glances made it clear she was as engaged as her older siblings.

Eddard took a breath, letting his gaze move from his wife to each of his children in turn. “King Robert has suggested a marriage pact to unite our families,” he began, his voice steady, though he felt the weight of the decision pressing down. “He has offered Joffrey’s hand to Sansa… and Y/N’s hand to Robb.”

Sansa’s face lit up immediately, a wide smile breaking across her features. “I would be honored, Father,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “To be Queen someday, to be married to Joffrey… it’s everything I’ve dreamed of.”

Catelyn’s face softened as she looked at her daughter. “Are you certain, Sansa? It is a serious decision, one that would take you far from home, to the capital.”

Sansa nodded, almost eagerly. “I understand, Mother. But I’ve dreamed of King’s Landing—the court, the feasts, the tournaments.” Her cheeks flushed with excitement. “And Joffrey… he’s handsome, and he’s a prince.”

Ned exchanged a glance with Catelyn, her expression mirroring the concern he felt. Sansa’s eagerness was not unexpected, but it still struck a chord. He was about to speak when Robb cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

“I would accept the match as well,” Robb said, his voice calm, though there was a quiet intensity to his gaze. “To join our Houses… it would be an honor.” He hesitated, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. “And… I saw her today. Y/N. She seems… dignified.” His cheeks colored slightly, a rare vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a match with her, Father. I think I could be happy.”

Eddard raised an eyebrow, surprised by Robb’s swift acceptance. Robb was young, and Ned had half-expected resistance or at least more hesitation. Catelyn, too, looked taken aback, her mouth parting slightly as she considered her son.

“It’s a big decision,” Catelyn said gently, her voice measured. “You would be bound to her for life, Robb. Have you truly thought about this?”

Robb nodded, his gaze meeting hers with quiet conviction. “I have, Mother. She seems strong, and I would welcome the chance to learn more about her. If it’s what the realm and our House needs, I am willing.”

“Robb, you’re not actually thinking of marrying her, are you?” Arya’s voice broke through the quiet, incredulous and disapproving. She scrunched her face, her expression mirroring her distaste. “And Sansa, Joffrey’s awful. He’s arrogant and cruel.”

“Arya!” Catelyn chided, though her tone was soft, almost indulgent.

But Arya only shrugged, crossing her arms. “It’s true. I’ve seen him, Mother. He’s unkind to everyone around him just because he’s a prince. I’d never want a marriage like that.”

Sansa’s expression tightened, her smile fading as she glanced at her sister. “You don’t know him, Arya. Joffrey is a prince. He’s noble and brave. You just don’t understand.”

Arya rolled her eyes, but her expression softened slightly as she turned her attention to Robb. “But… I like Y/N. She doesn’t act like the rest of them. I saw her today, and she didn’t look down on anyone.” She looked at her father, her gaze challenging but hopeful. “If Robb has to marry someone, I’d rather it be her.”

Rickon, sitting on the floor beside Bran, looked up, his young face alight with curiosity. “What’s she like?” he asked, his voice filled with innocent wonder.

Bran shrugged, glancing at Arya. “She looked quiet, I guess,” he said, thoughtful. “Not like Joffrey, anyway.”

Ned sighed, feeling the weight of his children’s varied reactions. He’d expected Sansa’s enthusiasm and Arya’s protests, but Robb’s quiet acceptance had caught him off guard. The North had always been his family’s home; the thought of binding them so closely to the South troubled him.

He looked at Catelyn, catching her eye. She nodded, understanding his silent request, and rose from her seat, placing a comforting hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Robb, Sansa,” she said softly, “this is a decision that will shape your futures. We don’t take this lightly.”

Sansa nodded, her eyes bright with anticipation, while Robb simply inclined his head, calm and steady. Arya huffed, but Catelyn silenced her with a look, and Arya fell back, though her gaze remained defiant.

As the children continued to murmur among themselves, Ned took Catelyn’s arm and led her a little way from them, lowering his voice. “There’s something more,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting back to his children, his heart heavy. “Robert asked me to be his Hand.”

Catelyn’s face tightened, her concern immediate and clear. “Ned… the Hand? I thought you’d never return to court.”

He nodded, his voice low. “Neither did I. But Robert… he says he needs me. And with Jon Arryn gone…” He trailed off, his gaze distant. “The realm is troubled, Cat. If I can help Robert, I feel I must. But I would bring all of you, as Robert suggested.”

Her hand tightened in his, her expression a mix of worry and resignation. “You know what lies in the South, Ned,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Whispers, plots. I fear for you—and for our children. They’d be far from the safety of the North.”

“Aye, I know,” he replied, his heart heavy. “But if I refuse him… Robert will be left to those who would only drag him down further. I owe him my loyalty, Cat.”

Catelyn studied his face, her eyes searching. She knew his sense of duty ran deep, and she understood the bonds that held him to Robert, the memories of war and brotherhood that could not be so easily dismissed. “Then let us think on it,” she said finally, her voice steady. “We’ll decide together, Ned. For our family.”

He nodded, feeling the warmth of her hand grounding him amid the storm of decisions and uncertainties. For now, they would hold to each other and to the North.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was alive with music and laughter, the warm glow of firelight casting rich hues across the long tables laden with food and drink. The Northern lords and ladies feasted heartily, their voices mingling in a cheerful cacophony. At the high table, you sat beside your mother, your attire shining like a jewel against the muted, sturdy colors of Winterfell.

You sat poised, your gaze serene yet attentive as you watched the revelry unfold around you. From time to time, you’d lean in to speak to your mother, Cersei, your smile soft but polite. You laughed at something your younger sister Myrcella said, the sound gentle, like a secret shared with the night. Across the hall, Robb Stark found himself wondering what it would be like to be the one to make you smile, to hear your laughter up close.

“You’re staring, Robb,” Theon Greyjoy’s voice interrupted his thoughts, a teasing grin on his face. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? The lady staring at the lord?”

Robb gave him a playful shove but felt heat rise to his cheeks. “I’m not staring.”

“Oh, but you are,” piped up one of his other friends, a grinning Northern lad named Domeric Bolton. “She’s certainly caught your eye.”

Robb sighed, shaking his head but unable to keep a grin from spreading across his face. “She’s… well, she’s different,” he admitted, his voice low. “Not like the Northern girls.”

“Then go speak to her,” Theon urged, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Ask her for a dance.”

Robb hesitated, glancing back at you. Your presence was poised and refined in a way that made him suddenly feel rough and unpolished. But then he met your eyes, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the noise of the hall faded away. You gave him a shy smile, your eyes meeting his across the distance with a glimmer of interest.

Taking a deep breath, Robb rose from his seat, ignoring Theon and Domeric’s encouraging grins. He made his way through the hall toward the high table, his heart pounding with each step. When he reached you, he bowed slightly, his gaze meeting yours.

“Princess,” he said, his voice steady despite the quickening of his heart. “Would you grant me the honor of a dance?”

You looked up at him, your expression one of mild surprise before your lips curved into a soft smile. You glanced at your mother, who gave a curt nod, her gaze unreadable, before you turned back to Robb and inclined your head. “I’d be delighted, my lord.”

He offered his hand, and as you took it, the warmth of his touch sent a thrill through you. Together, you stepped onto the floor as the musicians struck up a new tune, a melody both gentle and lively, and Robb led you into the first steps of the dance.

“You seem well-versed in Northern customs, my lady,” he said, his voice warm with amusement as you moved through the steps. “I hadn’t expected a girl from the South to dance so well to Northern music.”

You laughed, your eyes sparkling as you met his gaze. “It seems the North is full of surprises. But I’ve had a lifetime of lessons in court dances. I only hope my dancing is… acceptable.”

“More than acceptable,” he replied, his own voice softening as he looked at you. “I’d wager even the most graceful Northern ladies would be envious.”

You lowered your gaze, a light blush coloring your cheeks. “You flatter me, my lord.”

He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes from you. “No, I speak the truth.” He hesitated, then leaned in slightly, his voice lowered. “I hope you’re finding Winterfell… welcoming. I know it must be different from King’s Landing.”

You looked up at him, your expression thoughtful. “It is different,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But I find I like it here. There’s… a warmth here that I hadn’t expected.”

“That pleases me to hear,” he said, his tone earnest. “This is my home, and one day… well, I hope to make it a place that someone like you could be happy in.”

Your gaze softened, and you felt the connection between you both grow as you moved through the steps, as if the hall and the people around you had faded into the background. “I believe I could be happy here,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s… quieter than I’m used to, yes, but there’s something about Winterfell. A sense of peace.”

Robb looked at you, his expression earnest as he gathered the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in his mind since he’d learned of Robert’s proposal. “And… do you think you could see yourself here one day, as the Lady of Winterfell?”

For a heartbeat, you felt surprise flicker in your gaze. But then you smiled, a shy, genuine smile that made his heart race. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice as soft as snowfall. “If the North would have me.”

You shared a quiet, lingering look, the unspoken promise between you both as delicate as the touch of his hand in yours. For a moment, Robb could imagine a future where you walked these halls as his wife, where your laughter and warmth brought light to Winterfell even in the deepest winter.

Robb led you through the steps of the dance, his touch gentle yet firm, his eyes locked on yours with a sincerity that warmed you even amidst Winterfell’s drafty stone walls. Around you, lords and ladies cheered and clapped, voices blending into the joyous hum that filled the hall.

But just beyond the laughter, at the high table where the royal family sat, an animosity simmered.

Cersei sat rigid, her fingers clenched around her goblet as she watched you move across the hall in Robb’s arms. Her green eyes were sharp, like cold emeralds, and her displeasure was barely hidden behind her carefully composed mask. Robert, beside her, laughed heartily with Eddard Stark, his voice booming over the din as he recounted tales from their youth. But Cersei’s simmering anger finally spilled over, and she leaned toward him, her voice low and venomous.

“So, this is your grand plan?” she hissed, her eyes never leaving you. “To bind our daughter to this… Northern boy without so much as a word to me?”

Robert’s laughter cut short, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at her, irritation flaring in his gaze. “What are you going on about, woman?”

She turned to him fully, her voice barely louder than a whisper, though her anger crackled beneath each word. “You’ve condemned her to this cold, dark place. My daughter, Robert. You would give her to a Stark—to live in this fortress far from court, from her family, from me. And you did this without consulting me?”

Robert took a long drink from his goblet, his brow furrowing as he tried to keep his voice steady, though a vein ticked at his temple. “Our daughter is old enough to wed, Cersei. And a match with the Starks would make her the future Lady of Winterfell. She’ll have a strong husband, and her place will be secure. What more do you want?”

“What more?” Cersei’s voice tightened, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “She is my daughter, Robert. Do you understand that? My blood. And you’d give her away as if she were some toy in your games with Eddard. She was supposed to be in King’s Landing, to be part of the court, to learn her place. But here…” Her gaze flicked toward you with something like desperation. “You’ve taken her from me.”

Robert’s face grew dark, his patience wearing thin. “Taken her from you?” he muttered, shaking his head. “She is my daughter, too, Cersei. Or have you forgotten that? I’m doing what’s best for her.”

“Best for her,” Cersei repeated, bitterness coating her words. “And you think binding her to the North is what’s best? To send her to this frozen wasteland, where she will be as isolated as I am?”

Robert’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his goblet. “Enough,” he growled, his voice low. “This is not the time or place.”

Cersei’s lips curled into a cold smile, her eyes blazing. “Oh, so now you find restraint? Now, when it suits you to ignore the voices that oppose you?”

His gaze flicked back to you and Robb, who were laughing softly as you spun in perfect rhythm to the music, the two of you oblivious to the conflict boiling at the high table. Robert’s irritation softened slightly, replaced by a look of contemplation. “Look at her,” he muttered. “She’s happy, Cersei. You would deny her that because you think this match is beneath her?”

“Beneath her?” Cersei scoffed, her gaze icy. “I would deny her nothing, Robert. I would give her everything. A place in court, a life of comfort, of power.” She turned back to him, her voice low and scathing. “But you would cast her away to the ends of the realm, to live out her days as some Stark’s quiet wife in the cold.”

“Enough, Cersei,” he said again, this time more forcefully. “Our daughter is a Baratheon, and this is what I’ve chosen for her. The North is good for her. It’ll give her strength, and a place to call her own.”

Cersei’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression tight with fury barely held in check. “You would know little of what’s good for her,” she spat. “When have you ever thought of what’s best for her? For any of us?” She cast a sharp glance toward the hall, where Robb was speaking softly to you, your face illuminated by a soft smile that made you appear every inch the regal lady Cersei had trained you to be. “That smile,” she murmured bitterly, “is what you think will last here?”

Robert’s expression shifted, his face darkening as he met her gaze. “Do not presume to lecture me on what’s best for our daughter, Cersei,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I’ve let you have your way with her long enough. This match is good for her and good for the realm.”

Cersei leaned back, her gaze hard and unyielding, her lips pressed into a grim line. “And when she comes to hate you for this—when she realizes you tore her from her family, her home—don’t expect me to soften her heart toward you.”

Robert’s patience snapped, his voice rising just enough for a few heads to turn in his direction. “She’ll come to understand, and she’ll thank me. You may not see it, but I know what I’m doing.”

At that, Cersei gave a bitter, humorless laugh. “If only you ever knew what you were doing, Robert.”

With that, she turned away, her gaze icy as she stared out over the hall, the tension between them leaving a chill in the air despite the warmth of the feast. Robert returned to his drink, the brief flash of guilt in his eyes fading as he watched you dance with Robb, your smile and laughter filling the hall as you swayed together in time to the music.

Though a bitter silence now lay between Robert and Cersei, neither could deny the spark that lit up the hall as you danced.

The early morning air was crisp, and a light mist clung to the ground as you walked beside Robb through the godswood, surrounded by towering trees that stretched their branches skyward. Robb had invited you out for a quiet walk, promising you a glimpse of the heart of Winterfell, where even the lords and ladies came to find peace. In the early light, the godswood was serene, the scent of pine and earth mingling with the soft murmur of the nearby stream.

You found yourself laughing easily with him as he recounted tales of his childhood in Winterfell, his face lighting up as he described the antics he and his brothers would get into. There was a warmth in his smile, a genuine ease that seemed to set you at ease in return.

“And then,” he was saying, barely containing his laughter, “Theon got the idea to sneak into the kitchens at midnight for pies, but Jon and I told him we had to outsmart Old Nan first. Well, we barely made it through the kitchen door before she caught us. Sent us all back to our beds with an earful.” Robb chuckled, shaking his head. “Theon tried to blame me, of course.”

You laughed, covering your mouth to stifle the sound, imagining a young Robb caught in the act, eyes wide with guilt. “And what about you? What did you do to make up for it?”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eye. “What every good brother would do—I blamed Jon.” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “He took it rather well, actually.”

The laughter between you settled into a comfortable quiet as you walked side by side. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you’d find yourself caught in his gaze a moment longer than expected. There was an openness in Robb that felt… different from the formality of the court and the rigid politeness you were used to in King’s Landing. Here, it felt easy to just be yourself.

“So,” Robb said, his voice softer, “are you finding Winterfell to your liking?”

You hesitated, feeling his gaze on you, before nodding. “I am. It’s… quiet. Peaceful. I think I could grow to love it here.”

Robb’s smile softened. “I hope you do.” He looked out over the godswood, as if envisioning a future that included you here, walking these paths together in the years to come. “I’ve spent my whole life here, you know. These woods, this castle… it’s in my blood. I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home.”

You glanced at him, feeling a strange tug in your heart as he spoke. “You speak of Winterfell the way a poet would speak of his muse.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. “I suppose I do. I never thought of it that way.” He paused, turning to look at you, his expression growing serious. “But I think, perhaps, if you were here… Winterfell would be all the more beautiful.”

Your breath caught, and you felt your cheeks flush as his words hung in the air between you. You opened your mouth to reply, but just as you were about to speak, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the quiet.

A servant, breathless and wide-eyed, came rushing toward you. “My lord!” he gasped, his face pale. “My lord Robb—it’s your brother. It’s Bran.”

Robb’s smile vanished instantly, his expression tightening as he turned to the servant. “What happened?” His voice was sharp, tinged with fear.

The servant swallowed hard, catching his breath. “Young Bran… he fell from the tower, my lord. The Maester… they’re with him now.”

Robb’s face went pale, and his hand dropped from where it had been resting near yours. For a moment, he seemed frozen, his eyes wide as he processed the words. But then, as if a switch had flipped, he straightened, his features hardening with determination.

“Take me to him,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet urgency.

The servant nodded, glancing between you both before hurrying back toward the keep. Robb took a shaky breath, looking at you, the vulnerability in his eyes making your heart ache.

“I’m sorry… I have to—”

“Go,” you said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Your brother needs you.”

He nodded, his jaw clenched, and without another word, he turned and strode quickly in the direction of the tower. You watched him go, feeling a pang of worry settle in your chest as you thought of young Bran, whom you’d only just met, a lively boy with a boundless curiosity.

Left alone in the godswood, the peace and warmth of your morning with Robb faded, replaced by a heavy silence that seemed to press down on you. You glanced back in the direction of the keep, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you considered what had happened.

After a moment, you began to make your way back toward the castle, hoping, praying, that the news awaiting you would be better than what you feared.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf #house of the dragon #hotd #got/asoiaf #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got robb stark #robb stark #robb x reader #robb x you #robb x y/n #the northen heart

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valyriians · 5 months ago

Text

-values of marriage.

cregan stark x fem!targ!reader.

requested: yes.

wc: 7287.

warnings: mention of childbirth, miscarriage, smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), mention of death. brackets are high valyrian translation.

You let out a laugh while Vermithor roared a victorious screech that could be heard everywhere on the island and patted his back.

’’Tegon, Vermithor!’’ you told him. (land)

He landed at the base of the staircase that led up to the great castle, sliding down as he lowered his body so your fall to the ground wouldn't be harsh you trailed your hand over his neck while you told him to be calm as the dragon keepers walked over to you preparing him to break his fast.

’’What is on today’s menu Claedon?’’ you asked the dragon keeper who is in charge of the dragons.

’’A dozen cattle and three goats, Princess.’’ Claedon says.

’’Give him some more goats, he did so very well today and the rope on the left side is starting to become loose so you need to fix that and maybe have the saddle adjusted while you’re at it.’’ You say while walking to your brothers who are landing with their dragons.

’’Of course Princess, anything else?’’ Claedon asks.

’’No that will be all thank you Claedon.’’ You say as you dismiss him.

’’While my dragon may be smaller and swifter you still somehow manage to best us both.’’ Jace says while he slides down his saddle.

’’Maybe you should’ve paid better attention to the dragon keeper lesson in King’s Landing, you would then be the better rider.’’ You say, half jesting but you always paid attention to anything dragon related, whether it was history, anatomy or just basic stuff.

’’I’ve only been a dragon rider for five moons but I assure you I will one day beat you.’’ Luke says, Arrax was small and had only recently begun taking Luke to the skies.

The three of you share a laugh until you see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, you hit Jace beckoning him to stop laughing.

’’Your lady mother needs to see you!’’ She shouts.

You take Luke's hand and begin walking to her and bow to her asking what is the matter.

’’It is best if your mother tells you.’’ Rhaenys looks at you, taking your face into her hands.

Unlike your brothers, you were the result of a successful bedding with Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor, you had the golden-silver hair of Old Valyria. Your grandmother loved all of her grandchildren, she saw her son in you the most. In your looks and your love for your dragon. It was known that Seasmoke was Ser Laenors pride and joy, just like Vermithor was yours.

A concerning look dwelled upon your face as you raced up the staircase to your mother's chambers where you heard screaming and grunting, you entered with your brothers in tow.

’’Mother?’’ Jace asks.

’’Your grandsire, King Viserys has passed.”

Your mother said, panting.

“Viserys?!” Luke cries out.

“The greens have repudiated the succession and claimed The Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king.” Your mother said, following cries and grunting.

Your grandfather is dead and your uncle has been crowned king, your mother's birthright and throne had been stolen from her, causing her to go into early labour Maester Gerardys believes.

You felt faint and everything blurred, you sat down and thought about how this had happened, just last night you were having dinner with your king, and everything felt like it was in place. You would’ve never thought that everything happened so quickly and soon.

“What is there to be done about it?” Jace asked in an angry tone, the fire inside him is ready to burst but for the sake of his mother he kept himself composed.

“Nothing yet.” your mother replies, crying and sweating.

“Where is Daemon?” You ask, wiping away your tears and standing up.

“I don’t know, gone to madness, gone to plot his war.” she cries out.

“Leave him with me.” you say to your mother while crouching to her.

“Whatever claim remains to me you are now its heir, the burden is a heavy one.” your mother says to you, clutching your arm.

“I won’t fail you, mother.” You say to her and then walk out of the room.

You walk into the main hall with red puffy cheeks and still in your riding clothes, Daemon is by the table pointing to the figurines on the table while the lords are writing things down and talking to each other.

“I will fly to the Riverlands myself and affirm Lord Tullys support.” Daemon says.

“You will do no such thing.” You say, making your presence in the hall known, Daemon looks at you.

“My mother has decreed no action be taken while she is abed.” You say firmly.

“It’s good you’re here young princess, you’re needed to patr-“

“Did you not hear what I said? As Princess of Dragonstone I command this.” You shout, making all the lords look at you, Daemon with rage in his eyes.

“Come with me.” Daemon says gritting through his teeth.

He takes you to the highest top on the Dragonmount. Where he stands before you and shouts at you.

“You dare to command me? I don’t take orders from you, I am your mothers right hand and while she is abed I have the control not you!” He shouts.

“That’s it, your control is only so limited, I will however be my mothers heir as long as I breathe air!” You scream at him, unleashing the anger and grief you feel.

“None of this would have happened if my mother married you!” you said, it was partly true.

“You have only brought pain and torment to her, she’s more than some brood mare who you can have children with and right now she is in anguish, screaming and begging for you! Her husband! The father of her children!” You shout at him, unleashing a scream from you and at the same time a dragons roar shakes the ground, Vermithor felt you, he mirrored your emotions.

You fell to your knees, crying clutching your arms to your chest. You hear footsteps and see Daemon kneeling before you.

“I'm taking control because I am her husband and the mother of my children, for all our safety.” he says, taking your shoulder.

“Now come, we are both needed by someone.” He grabs your hand the both of you walk to the castle.

“Wait here.” Daemon says before he walks into his shared chamber with Rhaenyra.

It was good to let your feelings out, the rage inside you had finally burst out and you were feeling confident.

You went to your brothers who were in the nursery with Aegon and Viserys, trying to keep your mind occupied while you comforted them.

You played with Aegon's curls and looked at the toy Viserys was playing with which was a toy soldier and wooden sword. It filled you with fear to think about your brothers having to fight, Aegon had his dragon of course while Viserys didn’t have one.

Syrax lit the funeral pyre for your sister whom your mother named Visenya, seeing your mother and Daemon standing on the over the pyre is heartbreaking, you hear armor clinking and see a white cloak walking towards your mother.

“I mean no harm brothers.” Ser Erryk calls out, reaching into his bag he pulls out your grandfathers crown.

“I swear to ward the Queen, with all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife. Hold no lands. Father no children. I shall guard her secrets. Obey her commands. Ride at her side and defend her name and honour.” he calls out, holding the crown.

Daemon takes the crown from him and crowns your mother, then kneels before her, calling her his queen.

You kneel with your brothers, acknowledging your mother as the Queen.

You get dressed into a more comfortable outfit, with dragon scale detailing and red and blue lace design.

Walking into the room and taking your place beside your brother who looked anxious and troubled.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Everything is happening so fast, I wish for this to be over quickly.” Luke says.

You take his hand comforting him and give him a faint smile.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Your Grace.” Daemon proclaims, looking at his wife proudly.

You would have never guessed that she had just said goodbye to her child, she looked ethereal and stood tall despite the circumstances.

“Where do we stand?” The queen asks and Daemon and the maester reply to her.

You had the majority of the houses on your side, there were some who needed to be reminded of who King Viserys named his heir.

“Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore flying the banner of a three headed green dragon.” a white cloak announced.

You looked at your mother who knew well who it was.

“I shall meet them.” The queen said, beckoning you closer to her.

“Take your brothers to your chamber, if anything should happen to me, it’s your duty to take care of them. Do you understand?” she says.

“Yes, my queen.” You bow and gather your brothers, Baela and Rhaena.

A load of things happened before everyone were once again gathered in the hall, your mother lost in her thoughts as you listened to the lords talking about how their troops are ready to fight and have been dispatched to their locations.

“Do your forces have enough food and supplies?” you ask Lord Celtigar.

“We have enough to last us for two moons but we shall be prepared for anything Princess.” he replies looking over his books.

“Vermithor and I will patrol the skies for food and drop some for your forces.” You say, Lord Celtigar bows to you and gives his thanks.

“The Lord of the Tides! Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!” Ser Erryk shouts, all eyes gloom at the limping man going down the stairs.

“My lords.” Corlys says,

“Lord Corlys, it brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.” the queen says.

“I’m very sorry about your father, Your Grace.” he says, offering his sincere condolences.

Corlys looks at you, proud as ever, you looked so much like your father in certain lights.

“We must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie and Storm's End.” Lord Bartimos says.

“I will prepare the ravens Your Grace” the maester says.

“We should bear those messages, dragons can fly faster than ravens, and are more convincing.” Jacaerys says.

“Send us.” he asks, but more like demands.

“My brother is right, the last King in the North bent the knee to the Conqueror when he saw Balerion.” you say, remembering your history lesson.

Your mother was not very keen on the idea, sending her children away, but her daughter was correct. Dragons are faster and they have no time to loose.

“Very well, Prince Jaceaerys will fly to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn. Princess Y/n will fly north to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat Lord Borros Baratheon.

We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore and the cost of breaking them.” your mother says, you are up to the task, Vermithor has seen the snow in the north so it will be easier for you to go north.

“If you take this errand, you go as messengers, not as warriors, you must take part in any fighting, swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven.”

Luke was the first one to place his hand on the book, then you, then Jace.

“I swear it.” you say.

You bow to her, she takes your face into her hand and kisses your forehead, she knows you will be safe but goodbyes are always hard.

You walk to Vermithor who has been on the coast, he was sleeping but roused up when you walked closer. You placed your hand on his neck and urged him to lower his body so you could climb onto the saddle, you then strapped yourself in and took the reins and commanded him to fly, he stretched out his bronze wings and let out a roar then he took flight, climbing higher and higher into the cloud.

You looked at your grandmother Rhaenys and then your brother Luke who was on his way to Storm's End and waved them goodbye.

The flight was long and cold, stormy weather and winds made it difficult to hold on but it was easy for Vermithor, being used to harsh climate and familiar to the North, the old king Jaehaerys I visited the North once.

You spotted Winterfell, it was covered in snow and the walls were high and covered in the banners of House Stark. You circled over the castle thrice and then landed outside the castle, shaking the ground and the snow melted beneath Vermithors body, many servants and guards looked at the Bronze Fury in terror and awe.

You unclasped yourself from the saddle and dismounted, giving him a stroke on his neck and whispering to him to stay calm.

Four guardsmen approached you.

“Princess Y/n, we are here to escort you to the inner courtyard of Winterfell.” one guard said.

You nodded your head, then allowed Vermithor to linger around and then you approached the guards and began to make your way into Winterfell.

“Princess Y/n Velaryon, daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen” a guard shouted in the courtyard as you looked around the courtyard, it was in some ways like Dragonstone, high black walls and everything was made from stone.

You turn your head to look at the man who stands tall among the crowd, a huge sword in his hand, his black hair is pulled back and is covered in light snow. His coat is big and covers his left arm.

“Winterfell is yours, princess.” he bows down to you, beckoning a young child beside him to walk to you with a bouquet of blue winter roses, native to the North.

“Welcome to Winterfell princess, I hope your journey fared well.” the young man said while handing you the bouquet, it was Lord Starks first born child, Rickon.

“Why thank you my lord.” you crouch down to him so you can talk with him better.

“These roses are very beautiful, how did you know blue is my favorite colour?” you joke with him and he laughs.

“Would you perhaps escort me to your father? For I desire to speak with him.” You ask him while inspecting the bouquet.

He nods his head and takes your hand and drags you to his father. Cregan was tall and had a handsome sharp face. He had the eyes you could fall into easily.

“Princess.” Cregan said to you, as he took your hand and kissed it softly and gently. You fully got lost in a trance and stood there for a moment.

“Lord Stark, I have brought you messages from my mother, the Queen.” you say, giving him the scroll.

“Let us go inside.” He said, taking your hand and leading you into the castle where a fire was lit.

You arrived into the hall and looked around, not many decorations were around but it was warm and welcoming.

“Would you like some refreshments Princess? some ale perhaps?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” you say, sitting down while straightening out your dress.

Cregan poured some ale into a jug and handed it to you, taking a sip of the drink made you cough and Cregan let out a laugh.

“Not the drink you’re used to eh?” he asked.

“Certainly not my lord.” you say with a sour look on your face.

There was a moment of silence, he looked at you as if he had seen the gods, he was taken away by you.

“Lord Stark, I am not sure if the news has reached so far but my grandfather, the king, has passed away.” you stand up and walk around the room.

“He was a good king with a gentle heart, my condolences princess.” he says while clasping his hands together.

“That he was, he always…. he always cared for me.” you say with a heavy heart and sniffled.

Cregan stands up and goes to comfort you.

“Princess-“ he begins.

“Your father Lord Rickon Stark swore an oath to King Viserys and my mother to acknowledge her as the princess of Dragonstone and the heir to the Iron Throne and I need to affirm your support. The Hightowers have placed Prince Aegon on the throne and crowned him in the Dragonpit. You have a choice to make my Lord, you can choose to honor your fathers oath and stand with the rightful ruler or you can learn the consequences of being an oathbreaker.” You proclaim to him, he steps back and his mind is clouded.

“You sound tired princess, have your rest change your attire because as the evening grows, the colder it will be.” he says as he walks away.

“I will send a lady to attend to you.” he added as a guard guided you to your chamber.

You walked into the chamber where a large tub and bed was waiting, you looked around, put your gloves down on the table where old maps and books layed around.

‘Was I too harsh?’ you asked yourself and placed your head in your hands and felt the urge to cry but straightened up when you heard a knock.

“Come in.” you said, straightening your dress.

A girl entered the room, she was about the same age as you, with brown hair and hazel eyes, her clothes were probably mended just a few moments ago.

“Princess, Lord Stark sent me.” she said.

“Yes, what is your name?” you asked.

“Mariah, princess.” she said.

“Right, I wish to bathe before I meet with Lord Stark again, I didn’t bring anything with me. I was wondering if there is something I might be able to wear.” you ask her.

“We have already prepared you a gown for tonight princess, it is quite splendid.” she says.

You start to undo your dress with the help of Mariah, she looks at your gown with awe in her eyes, she runs her fingers over the intricate design and lace and quickly shakes herself out of the trance and undid your hair.

You enter the tub and allow yourself to submerge into the water, Mariah gathers some oils and herbs to add into the water, along with soap.

“Your hair princess, may I?” Mariah asks and you nod your head, allowing her to rinse through it and wash it gently.

There was a long momentary silence when you finally spoke up.

“Tell me Mariah, how are the customs here in the North, I wish to be as respectful and modest as I can.” you ask her, she’s clearly stressed at the question but answers with grace.

“Well, it has been some time since your house has arrived here, last time it was King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne so you can imagine our surprise when the Bronze Fury graced the northern sky once again.” she said, she had clearly done her research.

“Well, I know that Queen Alysannes visit here brought great fortune, I certainly wish to do the same.” you tell her.

“You have already won the favor of Lord Cregans, ever since the late Lady Stark passed away Lord Stark has been very cautious about his son, protecting him from all harm and danger.” she says, clearly reminiscing about the old days.

“What was the late Lady Stark like?” you ask, in a low voice.

“She was very beautiful, the epitome of a lady.” Mariah answered.

You stayed in the tub for some time, not wanting to get out as riding for such a long time made your legs ache and the comfort from the hot water soothed the pain.

“Princess, I have gathered some gowns for you to pick from.” Mariah says while she helps you cover up.

Before you there were three beautiful gowns that were clearly fashioned for the North, you let your fingers glide over the dresses and then you picked a grey gown that showed your shoulders and covered your arms with another piece of fabric draped around your arms. Mariah brushed your hair and braided the top of it, allowing some hair to fall to your shoulders and back.

She lathered some oil on your collarbone and placed a dragon broach in the dress.

Mariah took one last look at you and bowed, leaving the room, letting you have some time alone before the feast began.

You walked into the great hall as a guard announced your presence, making everyone stand up and looking in your direction.

“Princess Y/n Velaryon, daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” was announced loudly.

You walked through the hall with your head high and when you reached the table where Lord Cregan and his family were sitting you nodded to him, making sure to keep eye contact. You then took your place beside him on the table.

The commotion in the hall began after you had taken your seat and you looked over at the great number of people, taking a sip from your drink.

“I hope Mariah was satisfactory, princess.” Cregan asks you.

“She was, my lord. I thank you for the hospitality.” you answered.

“You must forgive her, she was only trained to serve ladies, not princesses.” he jests, trying to make something of the conversation.

The tension between the two of you didn’t go unnoticed, some man then marched over to the table and bowed.

“Princess Y/n, the tales are true then.” the old lord says.

“Which tales might that be my lord-?” you ask him, wondering about his name.

“Hornwood, princess. Lord Cregan told us of your beauty, said you were as beautiful as the dawn.” Lord Hornwood said, making you blush and smile at him.

“You are much too kind my lord.” you replied and looked at Cregan who was embarrassed as he hid his face in a horn of wine. Lord Hornwood walked away after bowing to you and his lord.

The feast continued with lots of drinking and singing when you finally managed to talk with Cregan about your reason here.

“As much as I appreciate your hospitality and welcome here, I will need an answer from you before I leave for Dragonstone again.’’ you told Cregan, who sighed and looked at your face with much admiration.

‘’Of course princess, I have gone over the demands and conditions in the letter from your mother with my council and we have decided that, while my duty as Warden of the North is the most important to me, fulfilling my father's oath is just as important to me.’’ Cregan answers.

He rises and grabs the attention of everyone in the hall, raising his cup.

‘’My lords and ladies, I bid you all a warm welcome to my home on this occasion, while the harshest of winter snow has not yet fallen from the sky, a harsher wound this realm has faced. The king is dead.’’ he says, with a crack in his voice and people begin talking, looking at you with apologizing eyes. You looked down at your hands and tears began to swell your eyes.

‘’While I never met King Viserys, my father told me he was a just man and always wanted peace and unity across the realm. He also told me about the time he travelled South and bent the knee to him on the Iron Throne alongside Princess Rhaenyra, swearing his sword and allegiance to them both and acknowledging his first-born child as his heir and successor.’’ He shouts across the hall, having everyone listening to him. It was quite a show.

‘’Princess Y/n arrived here with a message, signed by her mother, the Queen.’’ he says, he recognized your mother as the queen, you felt shivering in your spine and arms.

‘’She says that the Hightowers have usurped her throne and crowned her half-brother Aegon as king, she asks that I do not forget my father’s oath and pledge for her if war will ensue which she does not wish for’‘ Cregan continues

The North does not forget oaths easily, we stay true to our word.’’ Creagns says, earning an agreeable shout from everyone.

“The North will honor the sworn oath to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Queen of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. We know that a Targaryen must sit the Iron Throne when the Long Night arrives, an alliance between the crown and the North is crucial.” He shouted, banging on the table to capture everyone’s attention. The way his hand fists met the wooden table and made everything shake was riveting.

“Each house will supply a hundred men that will march for Harrenhal and await my commands.” he made his decree.

You looked at him, with glossy eyes, you thought your mission had failed when he distanced himself from you, maybe stalling so the greens could come for you but how wrong you were.

“To Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name!” He lifted his cup and shouted, being met with joyous screams and cheers from the hall.

The celebrations continued until you decided to retire and Cregan himself escorted you to your chambers

“The Queen is most thankful for your support, with the strength of the North by our side we shall see much success if war ensues.” you say while walking slowly.

“Of course princess, we will start making progress in the next few days.” he says to you, clearly anxious.

“I shall be returning back to Dragonstone on the morrow, my mother will be most pleased with the news.” you tell him as you stop in the hallway.

“What will you do next?” he asks, questioning you.

“I will do what my mother commands, whether it is fighting, being by her side or marrying someone.” you say, with disappointment in the last words.

You always knew you had to marry, not for love but for political alliances or stability, a marriage for love in your position is not something that would be possible. You would always put the responsibility of the crown first.

“Marriage? You have someone in mind, princess?” he asks.

“No, my Lord.” you say then begin to laugh.

“Well there was this one boy who worked in the kitchen in the Red Keep, he always sneaked some sweets to me when I was younger, I told myself I would marry him because he always listened to me and bring me sweets, I like to think of him as my first love but it was childish really.” you say, clinging to the sweet memory like a child with a blanket.

“I wish to share my life with someone who listens to me and honors the values I myself uphold, who wants the same things as I, someone that knows their histories and cultures.” you say to him, imagining a life with your future one and smiling.

“That sounds like a very fine match princess, I do hope you find him.” he says with a sincere smile.

You both smile at each other and chuckle.

You see a small shadow behind the corner of the hallway, and soon find out that it is Rickon as he runs up to his father.

“Rickon! What are you doing here little one, you’re supposed to be abed.” Cregan says to him as he picks him up and puts a kiss on his forehead.

“I had a nightmare, the Others were coming for me riding giant spiders and I was so scared.” Little Rickon said as he snuggled with his father, burying his face into the thick coat his father wore.

“Oh my son, the Others have been dead for thousands of years, no harm will come to you, I swear it.” Cregan says, sharing a sweet moment with his son. You smile at the sight.

You hear someone walk to you, it is a guard wearing the Stark sigil and he bows before you.

“My lord, you are needed in the great hall.” he says.

“I will be there soon, I must put my son to bed”. Cregan says.

“Forgive me my lord, it is quite urgent.” the guard says.

Cregan becomes annoyed, sighing to himself and then starts putting him down when you intervene.

“I can tuck him in, if the little Lord would have me.” you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“Is that okay Rickon?” Cregan asks his son and he responds with a nod.

You pick Rickon up and caress his curls and begin walking to his chambers, you set him down in bed and tuck him in so he is comfortable.

“There you go Rickon, are you comfortable?” you ask as he nods and begins playing with his toy. You begin to walk away when he starts asking for a story. You sit down beside his bed.

“I heard you were talking about the Others to your father, can you tell me about them?” you ask him.

“They are big scary creatures and they ride dead horses and big spiders, they are made of ice and are very strong.” he says, shaking with fear, no wonder he woke up and asked for comfort. You nod to him and then straighten your back to grab the dragon broach from your dress and show it to him.

“You know what this is?” you smile and show it to him.

“Yes, a dragon!” he says with a smile on his face.

“Yes! a dragon you are correct and can you tell me what dragons do my lord?” you ask while holding the broach.

“They fly high into the sky!” he raises his arms up.

“Yes and what else?” you say with a smirk.

“They can breathe fire!” he says at last.

“Yes they can, and what does fire do to ice?” you ask.

“I don’t know.” he says with a confused look.

“Fire melts ice.” you say with a serious tone while spinning the broach in your hand.

“My dragon can breath so much fire that if the Others were to ever come, they would melt in an instant and turn into a big puddle. His wingspan is so wide it can cover a small town. My dragon would do anything I tell him to, all I must do is tell him ‘dracarys’ and he will breathe fire.” you tell him, he looks at you with much admiration and smiles.

“So if the Others were ever to come, all you must do is call me and I will arrive with my dragon.” you say to him and lastly give him the broach.

“So you remember me.” you say, giving him a kiss on the forehead as he begins to yawn and rub his eyes.

“Goodnight, my lord.” you whisper.

You stand up and see Cregan in the doorway, smiling at him and begin walking out.

“He’s a sweet boy.” you say as you cross your arms.

“It’s been hard, his mother died giving birth to him. He has never been satisfied with any maid or woman that has tried to comfort him.” Cregan tells you while dropping his head.

“I have experience, my younger brothers Aegon and Viserys are quite a handful, they only want my mother or me to tuck them in.” you tell him, you miss your brothers dearly.

You walk to your chambers at a slow pace.

“He has your eyes, you know.” you tell him, offering some comfort.

You reach your chambers, the walk to it felt so short and you felt heavy at heart when you reached the door. Wanting the company of Cregan to last forever you reach for his hand.

“I thank you for tonight Cregan, it was most enjoyable my lord.” you say caressing his hand.

“I am most pleased princess, I shall see you on the morrow before you leave.” he tells you as he places a kiss on your hand.

Looking into his eyes you felt your heart skip a beat and felt your hair rising when he kissed your hand, making you twitch inside with excitement.

“See you then, my lord.” you tell him.

He bows and leaves you.

You walk into your chambers and begin to discard your clothes and dress into a warm nightgown suited for the north, Mariah helps you and then bids you a good night.

The kiss Cregan left on your hands made you sigh and smile, the day had been long and tiring but being with Cregan was worth it, how his hair moved in the wind, how delicate his rough hands were and the way his voice rasped when he talked in the great hall. You were ashamed to admit it but you felt excitement and pleasure. You wanted to spend the moment with Cregan and have his body close to yours and feel his hands in yours.

You got under the endless pelts in the bed hoping to that sleep would find you but as you twisted and turned in bed making it impossible for you to rest, staring at the ceiling as you took a deep breath you started rub your thighs together and felt a tingling sensation where your womanhood was placed. You had one time felt that sensation when you saw servants in the Red Keep, the man was buried under the skirts of the woman and she clutched his hair and her mouth made an O shape, it was like she was drowning but at last she let out a gasp and the man slowed down and started to kiss her, you ran away before they could see you.

She felt like she was drowning and wanted to come back up for air, desperately wanting for air but not knowing how to breathe. You felt ashamed, you were a princess and this was not appropriate behavior. You finally gave up and got up from the bed and reached for the door and walked to the room where a maestar was located, you knocked on the door and the maestar opened.

“I am sorry for the late hour maestar but i have trouble finding any sleep, I was wondering if I could request a drought to help me?” you ask the man, who looks young and hale.

“Yes princess, I shall have it sent to your room if it pleases you.” he answered.

“Thank you.” you tell him and walk the cold corridor that leads to your room, you grab the door handle when you gasp, feeling the excitement you felt before once again clutching to your skirt and feeling your legs tremble.

You walked in and took off a layer of your nightgown trying to escape the burning heat that filled you up, pacing the room trying to catch your breath when a knock on the door drove your eyes to the door and opened it.

“Princess.”

It was Cregan, the maestar told Cregan what you needed and he delivered it personally. He held the bottle by the throttle with his arms crossed, the way his veins were illuminated by the torch in the hallway.

He barged into the room and placed the bottle on the table. You inhale the scent as he walks by you and once again feel that sensation but manage to contain your breath.

“Lord Cregan, the hour is late.” you tell him, ashamed to be feeling like this.

“Please, enough with the formalities, I am Cregan to you.” he says as he walks slowly to you, discarding his cloak.

“Cregan..” you say but he grabs your face and kisses you, a hand slides around your waist and takes hold on the nape of your neck, pushing deeper and deeper into the kiss and then going down to kiss your neck as a moan escapes your lips. You are lost in your thoughts and as you grab his hair he pushes back.

“I’m sorry princess, that was improper of me.” he says as he avoids eye contact and begins to walk away.

“Cregan” you shout at him, as you grab your chest and then you walk to him.

“I want this.” you say shyly, “I want you… to be touched by you.” you manage to form those words into a sentence with a shaky voice.

“Whatever the princess commands.” he answers and grabs your face and plants a harsh kiss on your lips with no warning and he begins to move your hair from your face to see the whole of your face. Then he stops and looks into your eyes.

“I will not sully you princess, you have my word.” he says, while caressing your cheek.

He leads you to the bed and motions you to sit down, looking at you with hungry eyes like a wolf looking at its prey as he removes your dress, shyness crept over you but you kept eye contact.

He kneels down facing your body and lift his two rough hands to separate your legs, revealing your womanhood and then he rises up to your face and starts kissing you as he places his body between your legs, you lay your back down on the furs as he starts leaving kisses on your body, the shoulders, the arms, the belly. Your soul was on fire, the constant kissing and touching made you twitch inside and with every kiss the fire grew larger and stronger. He placed your legs over his shoulders and began to place kisses in between your thighs and then started to kiss the place where you felt the burning sensation, he started to pleasure you with his mouth and with each breath you started to see stars, the way his hands grabbed your hips and thighs was just a beginning, he continued to be glued to your womanhood and you grabbed his hair and gasp, you had never felt that before. they way he stayed in a comfortable pace but also made sure you always felt pleasure, your back arched when he had started a faster pace and you started to feel your legs tremble and as you moaned out your body felt electric, this release was the thing you needed, he still touched you as you were calming down from your high and looked at you with glimmer in his eyes as you gasped and panted.

When he was finished with you, he climbed on top of you and started to kiss you passionately, the wetness from your womanhood still on his lips while he cupped your behind.

The two of you laid there together for a long while, he continued to kiss your shoulders and grasp your behind as you started drawing shapes on his chest, he didn’t leave you, he stayed with you.

“Princess.” Cregan says.

“It is Y/n, my name is Y/n.” you correct him.

“Y/n, I hope this did not scare you.” he asks.

“I’ll admit I was scared but when you touched me, something in me fired up, something I've been wanting to experience for some time. I thank you, my lord.” you say.

“My name is Cregan, you will call me Cregan.” he then says as he grabs your waist and rolls you under him as you laugh. You start kissing each other again and when sleep finally reaches you he leaves, making sure not to make a sound.

You wake up to the sound of ravens crying out, you call for Mariah and she gets you ready, helping you with your hair and riding attire. You thank her for the help and give her a bag of coins for her service which she accepts gleefully and runs off.

As you make your way to the courtyard to formally leave Winterfell you notice everyone looking at you, with a confused expression and also sadness. Your heart begins to race when you start thinking about what happened last night, did someone see you? or hear you with Cregan? Did Cregan himself tell someone? Your reputation will be ruined if word reaches the Queen.

You get to the courtyard and see the great host that has come to say goodbye to you. Cregan stands in the middle with a letter in his hands and looks at you, his eyes are glistening and looking at you with sorrowful eyes.

“My lord, is everything well?” you ask him.

He takes your hand and walks away from the crowd leading you to a secluded place and gives you the letter he was holding. It had the sigil of House Targaryen, likely from Dragonstone. He hands you the letter and gives you some space. As you read the letter, sadness overcomes you but also rage and guilt. In the letter that was signed by your mother, was the news on the death of your brother Lucerys, he had been slaughtered by your uncle Aemond when they met each other at Storm's End.

Your sweet younger brother was dead, he died alone with only his dragon who did not survive. They clashed into the sea and the red cape he wore tangled into his dragon's wing. Your mother had found it while searching for your brother.

You stared at the paper while tears began to run down your cheeks and you quietly walked away and then you broke down and hit the cold ground beneath you, clutching the letter and screaming cries of anguish and in the moment a loud roar was heard that shook the earth, Cregan flinched but you sat still letting cries and scream escape your body.

You stayed there for a while until Cregan came to you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

“The Queen requested you to return to Dragonstone at once princess, she will be wanting you back no doubt.” he said.

“The first thing Luke said to me after I claimed Vermithor was that I was now the rider of the second largest dragon in the world, almost the same size, I do wonder what would have happened if I went to Storm's End in place of Luke, I could’ve matched with Vhagars size and ferociousness.” you tell him in between sobs as you sit motionless.

“You cannot blame yourself.” Cregan says.

“I know I should not but I cannot help myself.” you cry out.

A thunderous roar came from above as Vermithor landed before you, walking towards you and shaking his entire body.

“Gather your army and march to Harrenhal, when the time is right you and I will lay waste to the Greens army.” you tell him as you take his hand.

“Winter will be coming for them, I swear this.”He places his lips on your hand and bows and walks away, he senses Vermithor getting himself ready to take flight and he backs away, allowing himself to be alone with your dragon.

“Gūrogon issa lenton.” you tell Vermithor, as you mount him, the tears on your face freezing as you go higher and higher, sadness quickly becomes rage as you think about Luke. The Greens will never know peace again. (take me home)

this is only part one! i am thinking of turning it into a series but we will see. hope you guys enjoyed!

#house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark x you #fire and blood

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