#brokeback winterfell

[imasexypotato]

[darkdarknights]

[synchodai]

Tom Taylor gets a lot of flak for his Cregan Stark, but I will maintain that his initial awkardness with Jace that gradually became more friendly was a great call. If you imagine Cregan as this hardass experienced warrior, of course you'll be disappointed. But if you're like me who imagines him as stressed young lord who's trying very hard not to show that he's stressed and young, Tom Taylor got it down pat.

Jace and Cregan start off as two lordlings playing politician by reciting stilted, rehearsed lines at each other and as they keep talking, their dynamic gradually shifts into something more personable and vulnerable. From noblemen trying to out-diplomat each other to bros who realize the other may also be struggling with this whole governance thing, basically. Cregan realizes from this dude's incorrect knowledge of Torrhen Stark that he's way out of his depth and legit needs help, so uh... I can't leave because winter but I have these greybeards if you'll have them. The scene starts with posturing and flaunting dynastic legacies, and when they get up the Wall, there's the admission that yeah, both our hands our tied and we don't actually have a lot of power to spare, mythical ancestors and monologues on duty regardless.

Then there's Taylor's microexpressions when he reads the raven.

The slight lip quiver? Dude only had 4 minutes but by god, I loved his performance.

Also can I talk about the face? The deviated septum? The strong brow that makes him look like he's always slightly angry? All that while still having a babyface? Perfect casting imo.

[faebobaggins]

they definitely explored each other’s bodies

[missisjoker]

Shoutout to Tom Taylor who can easily play both the grumpy Wolf of the North

And a very c^nty Targaryen prince, if need be.

I mean, just look at him, that just screams Targaryen to me.

P.s. to Tom: my beloved, you manspread makes me crazy and I desperately want to sit on your lap.

[lunafreya24]

Cregan: I'm kind of crushing on someone but I'm worried about telling you who it is because I don't think you'll like it... Luke: Just rip the bandage off. Cregan: It's Jace. Luke: Put the bandage back on.

[darkficlord69]

Fire & Ice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon

Warning: tastefully depicted smut (18+)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When fire meets ice, the very walls of Winterfell seem to tremble. But is the wolf a worthy match for the dragon?

Jacaerys Velaryon sat beneath the sprawling canopy of the godswood, a single white flower caught between his slender fingers. He plucked its petals one by one, watching them drift down to the withered grass like fallen snow. A sigh escaped his lips, soft as the summer breeze, and his fingers, adorned with silver rings fashioned in the shape of dragons' scaly tails, stilled when a bee landed upon his pink nipple. He dared not move, resembling a statue of marble, all sharp curves and delicate lines, carved by a true master’s hand. He held his breath until the bee took flight, then allowed a small smile to break across his face as he prepared to rise.

But then, a shadow fell over him, long and imposing, blotting out the sun. Jacaerys looked up, squinting against the sudden darkness.

"Good day, my prince," came a husky voice, roughened by the chill of the North.

"You too, Cregan," Jacaerys replied mildly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he feared to break the stillness of the godswood.

"The lords of the war council request your presence in the solar," Cregan Stark said. "I had hoped you would care to join us."

Jacaerys let his gaze wander over Stark’s solid frame, taking in the man’s sturdy build. Those legs, long and strong beneath plain woolen breeches; that broad heavy chest hidden beneath layers of soft furs and leather; his hair, brown as autumn leaves, and his hard eyes, grey as winter’s ice—eyes that could thaw even the heart of a dragonlord.

He was lost in girlish thoughts, caught up in the rugged beauty of the Stark, when a soft throaty cough brought him back to himself. Cregan extended a gloved hand.

"Of course, my lord," Jacaerys said, taking the offered hand and letting Cregan pull him to his feet. "Anything you need."

***

The great hall of Winterfell rang with voices of discontent. Lord Umber’s booming shout rose above the rest, his face as red as his hair. “Straining our armies will only increase the risk of wildling attacks!” The room responded with a chorus of grunts and murmurs of approval. “Southron skirmishes are no concern of ours, I say!”

Lord Manderly, heavyset and lounging in his chair, responded in a bored drawl. “The South is as much a part of the Seven Kingdoms as the North. Sooner or later, one king or queen will force us to choose a side.”

“The Iron Throne will not look kindly upon our allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Lord Hornwood intoned. Cregan Stark, seated at the head of the long oak table, had listened to enough prattle to make his head throb in annoyance. With a resounding thud, he slammed his large hands on the oak table, sending goblets rattling and silencing his bannermen. A sombre heaviness fell over the room, thick as the northern snows. The Warden of the North took a breath, his grey eyes hard and unyielding.

“We pledged our support to King Viserys’s heir long ago,” he said, his voice stern. “Never has a Stark broken his word, and I do not intend to be the first. Remember where your loyalties lie, my lords.”

With those words, dark and final as the grave, Cregan rose from the table, his wolfskin cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Jacaerys Velaryon followed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Once they were alone in the dim corridor of the Great Keep, Jacaerys’s mask of composure slipped, revealing the warmth beneath. “Cregan,” he said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude, “thank you.” The support of the North meant that his mother would be one step closer to claiming her birthright.

Cregan gave a curt nod, intent on heading to his chambers. But before he could take another step, he felt a firm yet gentle push, his back pressing against the cold stone of a column.

“Now let me show you how a dragon expresses his gratitude,” the prince murmured, a teasing grin curling his full, pouty lips. The words hung in the cold, still air, filled with a heat that made Cregan's blood pulse faster. Jacaerys moved with a lithe grace, every step a promise, every movement a dance of seduction.

Slowly, Jacaerys knelt before the Stark lord, his hands gliding up Cregan’s strong thighs. His touch was featherlight, just a whisper of fingers trailing over thick wool and leather, but it was enough to make Cregan’s breath catch in his throat. The prince’s eyes were dark, glimmering with mischief and desire, his expression one of pure intent as he let his fingers dance along the inside of Cregan's legs, feeling the muscles tense under his touch.

Cregan’s heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, insistent rhythm that matched the stirring in his loins. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling into fists as he fought the urge to pull Jacaerys up, to crush their mouths together in a desperate kiss. But he held back, held still, mesmerized by the sight of the prince at his knees, those nimble hands tracing patterns on his skin.

Jacaerys’s fingers found the edge of Cregan’s tunic, slipping beneath it, brushing against warm hair-covered flesh. The touch sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Jacaerys looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted slightly, his breath warm against Cregan’s thigh.

The prince leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Cregan’s leg, just above the knee. Cregan’s muscles tensed beneath the tender touch, his fingers twitching with the need to reach out, to bury them in the dark waves of Jacaerys’s hair. He watched, entranced, as Jacaerys continued his slow, torturous journey, his lips brushing lightly up the inside of Cregan’s thigh, each kiss a spark, each touch a flame.

The wolf stirred within Cregan, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he felt the heat of Jacaerys’s mouth moving higher. His desire, coiled tight like a spring, grew with every brush of those lips, every teasing touch. He felt himself harden, the ache of want becoming almost unbearable.

Jacaerys’s smirk widened as he felt the evidence of Cregan’s arousal beneath his hands. He looked up again, his eyes meeting Cregan’s, holding his gaze as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Cregan’s hip. Cregan’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, his control slipping, his need overtaking him.

With a growl, Cregan reached down, his hands tangling in Jacaerys’s hair, pulling the prince up with a rough urgency. Their lips crashed together, the kiss fierce and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a frantic dance. It was a kiss that spoke of hunger, of a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long, finally unleashed.

Jacaerys responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle. The prince’s lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. Cregan could taste the heat of him, could feel the fire that burned beneath his skin, and he met it with his own cold fury, his own wild, untamed desire.

Their mouths moved together, each kiss deeper, more intense than the last, as if they were trying to consume each other, to fuse together through sheer will. Cregan’s hands moved down, grasping Jacaerys’s waist, pulling him closer still, until there was no space between them, until they were one, bound together by the force of their need.

His lips left Cregan’s mouth, trailing down his jaw, his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat. Cregan tipped his head back, a groan rumbling in his chest as Jacaerys found a sensitive spot, sucking gently, teeth grazing over skin.

The prince’s hands moved lower, finding hard planes of muscle, scars that marked his furry skin. He traced them with his fingertips, memorizing the shape of them, the feel of them, each one a testament to the man before him, to the strength and the honor that he embodied.

Cregan’s hands moved to Jacaerys’s waist, fingers digging into the prince’s hips as he pulled him impossibly closer, grinding against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through the layers of fabric. Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure coursed through him, his body arching into Cregan’s touch.

They moved together, lips meeting again in a fierce kiss, hands exploring, claiming, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The wolf and the dragon, fire and ice, together in the dark, bound by a passion that neither could deny. And in that moment, they were lost to the world, to the weight of their titles and the burdens of their duties, lost to everything but each other.Jacaerys gasped, his fingers tangling in Cregan’s thick, dark hair as he pressed ever closer, his body melting against the northerner’s like ice before a flame. Cregan’s lips moved to Jacaerys’s neck, finding the pulse there and biting down just hard enough to make the prince hiss in pleasure.

“More,” Jacaerys demanded, his voice breathless, his eyes half-lidded with desire. “Show me how fierce the wolf can be.”

Cregan needed no further invitation. He lifted Jacaerys effortlessly, the prince’s legs wrapping around his waist as it was Cregan’s turn to press him against the wall. The cold stone was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, but neither of them noticed. Their world had narrowed to this moment, to the taste of each other’s mouths and the feel of their skin.

They were fire and ice, light and shadow, opposites drawn together by a force neither of them could fully understand but neither wanted to fight. Here, in the shadows of the keep, they were free of the burdens of their titles and the weight of their responsibilities. Here, they were just two dandy men, lost in the madness of each other.

Cregan’s hands found the laces of Jacaerys’s lacy smallclothes and pulled, the fabric sliding down the prince’s hips and pooling at his feet. Jacaerys shivered at the sensation, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders as the northern lord knelt before him.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Cregan looked up, his eyes meeting Jacaerys’s, asking a question without words. Jacaerys nodded, a silent answer, a trust given and accepted.

“Stay still now, woman,” Stark commanded and Jace whimpered at the order.

Then, Cregan’s lips were on him, hot and wet and hungry, and Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back against the stone. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to the heat of Cregan’s mouth and the rough scrape of his beard against sensitive skin.

Jacaerys’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands fisting in Cregan’s hair as pleasure coursed through him, building and building until he thought he might shatter from it. And then, with a cry that echoed off the walls of Winterfell, he did, his body tensing, his back arching, and then collapsing against the stone, boneless and sated.

Cregan rose, his lips curved in a small, satisfied smile as he pulled Jace into his arms, holding him close as the prince caught his breath. They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the only sound their breathing, the only warmth the heat of their bodies.

Finally, Jacaerys pulled back, his eyes bright, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “Well, Lord Stark,” he murmured, “I must say, your loyalty has its rewards.”

Cregan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through Jacaerys’s already sated body. “And you, Prince Jacaerys, are a demanding wench.”

Jacaerys leaned in, his lips brushing against Cregan’s ear as he whispered, “Only because I know you can handle me, oh Wolf of Winterfell.”

Cregan’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with promise. “Then you’ll have to show me again, you feisty dragonling,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Jacaerys laughed, a bright, clear sound that filled the corridor. “Oh, I intend to, Cregan Stark. Many times over.”

And with that, they slipped away into the shadows, leaving only the faint echo of their laughter and the lingering warmth of their passion behind them.

End.

Hi! Hope you liked it 🥰 Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated! 🫶

[jacegans]

The face that launched a thousand ships sent two thousand greybeards south

[godofstory]

the type of beauty that Westeros (Cregan stark) went to war for

[kjwaikiki]

Headcanon idea:

Rhaenyra doesn’t like any of her kids significant others except for Jace’s.

Aemond and Luke’s relationship is not healthy and she is always worried that Aemond will hurt Luke.

Daeron is not good enough for Joffrey. Granted Daemon has a harder time with this one because he hates the Hightowers more than Rhaenyra ever could but she still isn’t keen on Daeron dating Joffrey either mainly because she knows that Daeron is probably gonna whisk Joff away somewhere.

Hilariously Rhaenyra adores Cregan. Significantly older, single dad, lives all the way in the North Cregan. Rhaenyra tried not to like him but the way he looked at her son, the way they are so intense with each other, and the way Jace lights up around him.

Jace was always her serious boy. So worried about everything around him, doing everything right, and making her proud. Rhaenyra can see that with Cregan Jace is free in a way that he just isn’t with anyone else. So she supports them.

It also doesn’t hurt that Cregan is a Lord Paramount while her brothers only have their dragons as an inheritance.

[rynnthefangirl]

My two theories for Jace's hair glow-up in season 2:

He was straightening his hair before because Harwin Strong has curly hair and he was trying to downplay the evidence of his bastardy. Once his mother is usurped though he says fuck it I'm gonna be who I am.

Jane Arryn took one look at this nervous bisexual Targaryen Prince headed up to treat with Cregan Stark sporting that straight mullet ass monstrosity and said absolutely not.

[winnysplayground]

ur honor they are lovers

[darkdarknights]

incorrect quotes - Jacegan edition

[synchodai]

Explaining the appeal of Brokeback Winterfell

Alternative title: The Inherent Homoeroticism of Jacaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark's Relationship that Has Taken Residence in The Deepest Recesses of My Hyperfixated Brain

Let me establish these characters before everything else.

Jacaerys Velaryon. His deal in the books is ambiguous but it's pretty clear in the show — he knows his claim to the throne is built on a lie, so he overcompensates for this by trying to be the perfect prince. He is dutiful to a fault, severely self-conscious and self-critical, and protective of his mother and brothers. He knows his uncles, his rivals to the throne, with their bigger dragons and silver hair have more claim to Valyrian heritage than he ever will. This all manifests in him striving to become this idealized image of the perfect Targaryen prince that he knows he can never achieve.

Cregan Stark. If Jace is supposed to be the perfect Targaryen prince, Cregan is talked about like the second coming of the old Kings of Winter. He is formidable swordsman and a stern ruler who doesn't hesitate meting harsh punishment. He is the idealized image of a Stark lord — stoic yet fierce in battle, someone who keeps to his oaths and the law.

However, what most characters in the books (and people in the fandom) seem to forget is that Cregan, at least in the dance, is very young — that's why I personally love the fact that HBO made him clean-shaven on the show. He's still a gruff northener, but it emphasizes his youth. He's 21-23 during the time of the dance, and he is ruling over Winterfell as someone who had to depose his uncle when he was a teen.

Mind you, northerners have tighter-knit families compared to most everyone else in Westeros. To quote the books: When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Cregan had to make himself a lone wolf in order to assert his lordship over Winterfell — which to a northern lad who already lost his father and younger brother must have been a difficult choice to make. Add to that his childhood friend/wife dying in childbirth and leaving him a single father, Cregan must be a very lonely wolf indeed.

But despite his loneliness, he does not let anyone in — or rather, he believes that he can't afford to because he knows there are people who will take advantage of his youth and his affections. It's shown in the Hour of Wolf that he is unforgiving, guarded, and does not trust anyone. This is understandable given that his uncle who raised him as a boy committed treason against him. But he seems to have a soft spot for those who are fierce and free-spirited and people who appeal to his sense of duty — these give him "acceptable" avenues to put down the northern masculine mask and be less rigid. Both tie back to a yearning for family.

Okay, so you got these two fellows: Prince Perfect Not-so-Valyrian Heir and Lord Stoic Northman Who Is Actually Deeply Lonely. Both of them have molded themselves to fit this mask of ideal masculinity because they believe it is their duty to their families and the only way to protect themselves in the arena of feudal politics.

Now put them together and what do you get? Chemistry. They see themselves in each other which leads to identification which leads to empathy which leads to curiousity which leads to dissection which leads to vulnerability which leads to intimacy. Jace sees the authority and respect Cregan commands and Cregan sees Jace's attachment and support from his immediate family, and they both desire something the other has, not fully realizing that they are forced into situations where they could not have both. It's juicy, it's rife with tension, it's the pact of ice and fire, baby.

Anyway, this is all to say...Sara Snow is a metaphor for the feminine vulnerability and yearning these two shared. That she is both a bastard and beloved sister is a combined manifestation of the two men's most deeply held desire — for Cregan, his yearning for close family who has no political claims that will get between their relationship, and for Jace, his need to be acknowledged and accepted as a bastard child.

They trained and hunted and drank together — things regular young men do, but that the crown prince or Lord of Winterfell wouldn't have much opportunity to when one is studying Valyrian/dragonriding while the latter is making sure his paramountcy doesn't go into famine come winter. It's easy to imagine them bonding over the honor and burdens of their stations, their lost childhoods, their grief over losing loved ones, how their uncles who they grew up with betrayed them — just finding so much in common that it allows them to finally lower that meticulously crafted persona they use as their strength and shield.

And you wonder then, have they found someone who sees not as a fearsome wolf or powerful dragon, but just as...a handsome dude who they love to hang out with? Cause that would be sweet, bro, no homo. (But maybe some homo if you're okay with it.)

And the actors just really play into all of that with how they look at each other. Ugh, beautiful.

(Shameless plug: This is all why I wrote a fic about them.)

[faebobaggins]

“cregan and jacaerys took a liking to each other. they drank together, hunted together, trained together, and swore an oath of brotherhood, sealed in blood.”

[missisjoker]

Cregan looking at Jace in this picture

Author: @giosssu3 on Twitter/X, go say hi