#fire dancing with snow

[motorway-south]

adwd theon is soooo fucking funny. he's tortured beyond recogintion even by himself and forced to see a girl he knows from childhood go through the same thing. he's lost everything he once held dear. theres muderers and cannibals stalking the castle. his only friend is a milf who hates everyone and starts talking to him about how the maesters faked 9/11 and how she wants to feed his surrogate fathers bones to her dogs

[malleefies]

young jon old jon grey jon black

[buildoblivion]

lord snow

[llutik]

learning names

[spicy30]

Echoes of a Stolen Fate 1/2

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targ!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Targ!Reader (Platonic sibling love)

cw: Blood, Bastardry stigma, infidelity, classism, regionalism (regional bias), curse words

Rating: 16+

tags: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, the reader has anger issues, reader takes issues against bastards, reader does not like the north, reader acts like a princess (discriminates against those who are not like her (gets it from her mom tbh, have you read about Rhaenyra?)), Reader has traditional Targaryen features (Hair and eyes, skin color nor body specified), Dino Dragon is named Acrocanthosaurus because I'm not original, Reader is assumed to be true-born due to traditional Targ features (You can decide whether she is or not)

(Not Proofread)

Indulgence is based on this post. Inspo Dino Dragon is Acrocanthosaurus.

WC: 10.8K

“Are you insane! Do you think you're mighty!?” You limped into Jacaerys’s chambers.

“What are you talking about?” He stood up walking to you. “You should be resting.” He extended his hand out to you. 

“Don’t touch me! You have such a nerve to tell me to rest but you are the sole reason I cannot!” You moved your shoulder back to prevent him from touching. 

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about, but you need to sit down and calm down.” Jacaerys urged you as he tried to coax you to sit down.

 You felt your eye twitch. “I am calm! I am not yelling or hitting you, but the Gods know that I should!” You turn around swiftly and he feels your hair slap him in the face. He closes his eyes and makes a face. He uses his arms to corner you to his bed as he pushes you slightly to sit down. 

“You’re still injured from Vhagar and Aemond.” He speaks as he looks down at your angered face. 

“You don’t think I know that!? I felt it as I walked to your room. You don’t think I’m aware of my own pain!? The dreadful scar that will be left on my leg and the way I cannot lean on my hips lest they become stuck!?” You stand up from the bed as best you can without shaking. “You don’t think I want to rest? I was happily in my bed until a little bird came and told me how pleased they were with ‘my’ choice to marry a northern brute. How brave I was to choose someplace so far from my home.”

Jacaerys breathed out a sigh understanding the reason for your visit and your tone, before backing away from you. “It was necessary. We needed to encourage the North to rally behind us and what better way than to have the Lady of Winterfell be a Targaryen who supports our mother’s claim?” 

You scoffed. “I secured an alliance with Storms End despite the troubles that presented themselves.”

You breathed heavily trying to stop yourself from yelling out in pain and crying as you looked at the lodged tooth in your lower calf, courtesy of Vhagar. You watched Aemond and Vhagar fly back to whatever hell they crawled out of. It was a miracle you survived. Your Acrocanthosaurus was nowhere as big as Vhagar, but he was large, but best of all, agile. It was a feature unique to him and him alone due to the sail-like spin that protruded upwards. It allowed him to move like no other. 

His sense of smell, however, was something else. When he flipped in the air avoiding Vhagar you thanked all the gods you knew, for if Vhagar had snuck up on you and succeeded, you’d be as good as dead. In that instant you were a hundred times glad that you proposed you come in place of Lucerys, only the gods know what would’ve happened. However, no matter how well you rode, you could not evade everything and thus you had Vhagar’s large tooth lodged through your calf. 

Despite this, if you looked on the bright side, Borros Baratheon and his men had seen what happened in the skies, the breaths of fire, the evasion, and best of all, they had seen Aemond fly off with Vhagar pronouncing you the champion. You flew down and landed making sure they could see Vhagar’s tooth lodged in your leg. 

“Is that the man you’ve promised your daughter to?” You yell pointing towards the sky in the direction where Vhagar and Aemond have fled to. “Is that the man you stand for? The man who fled battle knowing full and well I could deliver the Targaryen words for the disrespect you have dealt me and my mother!?” Acrocanthosaurus exhaled steam as he eyed the Baratheons. “The brother of the man you call king!? He was supposed to protect you, protect your daughter!”

Borros inhaled a shaky breath so as not to show fear. All he could do was stand still as you spoke, throwing his mistake in his face. Shaming him in front of all his men. He knew better than anyone what you could do with that dragon of yours. He had just seen it with his own eyes. 

“Him!? You stand with him and that usurper whore of a king!?” You glared at them as blood leaked from your leg on display for everyone to see. Had you not been in such a state of mind, you would’ve found the shame to try and cover up as your attire has been ripped showcasing everything up to your thigh. You saw some of the men close their eyes in shame. 

Good. That was what you needed to drive home the point.

“The ‘protector’ of the seven realms is he?” You inhaled a deep breath before ripping out the tooth. Your blood splattered on Borros and everyone else who stood close enough on their faces and dresses. 

“No. I’m the only protector here. I protect you and your realm by giving you your life.” You toss the tooth at Borros Baratheon’s foot. “Take it, and look long and hard at what I protected you from. Not Aemond, not Aegon, not Alicent, not anyone but me. Use this gift well Borros

Baratheon, for my protection only extends to those who are loyal to the rightful Queen and heir.” You glare down at him. 

“Well? What's your choice, My Lord?” You mocked him. You saw him clenched the large tooth. It was the size of a large dagger just as sharp and serrated. You saw blood coming from his palm. You bit back a smile. “My protection or my house words: Fire and Blood.” 

Finally, Borros bent the knee and so did the rest of the house. You smiled. “Splendid choice my lord. I am glad you have utilized my gift, but let me warn you. Should my Acrocanthosaurus smell deceit from you or anyone else, we will. Snuff. It. Out. Please continue to use my gift wisely, for I think you find it to be invaluable.” With that you took Acrocanthosaurus and flew back to Dragon Stone, successful, pray to tell with a bleeding leg, but successful nonetheless.

“I did it and all without promising you, Lucerys, or Joffrey. What is your excuse? I think mine called for it much more than yours did.” You felt your face twitch. “You promised me to a northern brute without my consent Jacaerys!”

“Cregan is a fine man. He will-” You cut him off. “Oh, mercy me! He’s a fine man now, is he? You’ll have to excuse my lack of manners for I haven’t met the man!” You emphasized as your voice grew louder and angrier. 

“This is for the good of the realm, good for you and mother.” He urged as you looked at him with an exasperated look.

You shook your head at him, backing away from him. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t care about any of that.” You started breathing heavily before you looked at him with a crazed look in your eye. An accusatory look. “You want…” You trailed off as the heavy realization hit you. “ Of course! You want-” 

Jacaerys cut you off. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking, I swear it, I do it for the good of the realm! This is what is best!”

You took in a heavy breath. “No. It is what is best for you!” Your anger-crazed eyes narrowed on to him. “I had set a future, a future I was meant for. I had my life all planned. It's what I was made for.” 

“Your future is still there, the future will always be there.” He walked closer to you as you backed away shaking your head. 

“That’s not true.” You said tears stuck in your throat. 

“Listen to me.” He said slowly. 

“That’s not true.” You repeatedly looked at him with desperate sad eyes.

“Listen to me!” Jacaerys yelled at you while looking at the floor. “Your marriage to Cregan Stark will stabilize the realm and solidify our bonds with the North and the other houses who are their sworn bannermen! Where a Stark goes, the North will follow.” He looked up to you and there you were, a hurt look on your face. He breathed in to keep his resolve. 

“I don’t want to!” You yelled back. 

“We need the North!” He grabbed your wrists so hard that you were sure bruises were to be left. 

“At the cost of my life! It is my life you have taken from me Jacaerys!” You hit your fingers against your chest to express yourself for you fear words are not enough to express the anger, sadness, and utter desperation you feel. “My life is not yours nor for anyone to take from me!” You pulled your wrists from his hands pushing him away. “I am CROWN PRINCESS!” You yell at him with all your might that you’re sure your mother and everyone else inside DragonStone can hear.“I am the next heir to the Iron Throne after Mother! You dare take it from me!?”

“I DID THIS FOR YOU! For the better of the realm and whether you like it or not, It. Is. Done!” He yelled at you before breathing and pushing back his hair. “It is for the good of the realm and nothing more.” He whispered out before walking out of his own chambers slamming the door behind him as you were left in his room to mourn the loss of your life.

…

Cregan Stark stood as preparations were made for your family’s arrival. He was told he had another fortnight to prepare due to an injury you sustained fighting the Queen of Dragons. He could only imagine the woman you were, to hold your own against the Queen of Dragons and make the Baratheons bend the knee to you and your mother after they had sworn fealty to the false king. 

Quite the woman he imagines in his mind. 

He finds himself wondering who will win, the fire that you and your dragon wield, or the cold winds of winter the North gives. In any case, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out.

The North was so far from your homelands and fair springs and summers that you were used to but even then, stories of you spread everywhere. You were, after all, the heir of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and were deemed the realm's delight. One would have to live under a rock to not know who you were. 

The most recent tale of you told of your outspoken nature and its cause to lead the late King Viserys to side with your mother when claims were made of your legitimacy and that of your brothers were questioned. From accusing you and your brothers of being children of Harwin Strong to you being a bastard of Rhaenyra and Daemon. It didn’t make for a compelling case if you changed who the father was mid-argument. 

He was sure you’d fare well in Winterfell, though he wondered if he’d have to build your dragon a pit. He’s worried that your dragon might eat all the livestock the North has with how big he has heard the beast is. 

It wasn’t long before he heard the ringing of bells signaling guests and the only guests he was expecting were you and your family. He walks amongst the commons of Winterfell who were eager to see a family of Dragons. He stood ready to receive them. He saw a total of four dragons, the largest being one see deep red coloring and the longest neck he had ever seen, on a dragon or any other animal. 

All four dragons landed. The green one, Vermax, that one he had seen before, Prince Jacearys’s Dragon. The smallest one belonged to Prince Lucerys, then one with dark yellow coloring belonged to Queen Rhaenyra, and finally, the infamous Blood Wyrm, Caraxes, which belonged to Prince Daemon. 

However, most noticeably you and your dragon were missing. 

Queen Rhaenyra dismounted her dragon bringing down her youngest son with who she was riding with, little Prince Joffrey.  

Cregan bowed as did the rest of Winterfell to their rightful Queen. 

“My niece will be late, her injury holds her back. I’m sure you can understand the circumstances as you’ve heard of her victory, yes?” Daemon was against this marriage, he had heard your reluctance, and truth be told, Daemon would much rather you marry a Targaryen. You are the blood of the dragon. It was best to keep it pure and not sully it with Northern blood. Not to mention you were your mother’s heir, he figured it would be best if you instead married when your mother claimed back the Iron Throne. 

“I am well aware,” Cregan spoke and nodded in understanding. He greeted the rest of the family. By this time all the dragons have flown off to only the gods know where to try and get away from the cold air of the North. 

About to welcome them inside, Cregan heard a loud rumble that vibrated through his body. He looked up to see a large dragon, larger than any your family had. The dragon landed with a loud thud shaking the ground below him. He heard the gasps and awes being him. He stood still unmoving. You landed quite a ways away, but he saw the large beast take a step forward before it increased in speed like he had seen no animal do before. Each step makes the ground quake and consequently he and his men as well. 

It roared loud and angry. Much to Cregan’s dismay, he did step back just a bit as your beast roared. It sent many commons running and children crying. 

On top, he saw you with a pleased smile, glad they knew of the power you wielded. He watched as your dragon reached its claw for you to hold. He swallowed as he watched you unfasten your seat before grabbing onto the claw with such grace as your dragon brought you down with such gentleness it was hard to believe that such a terrifying roar could come from it.  

He watched as you nuzzled against his face, nearly turning your back to Cregan. You gave him one last rub before you turned to Cregan with a confident look as your hand kept rubbing the underside of its jaw. You were making your presence known to him. A commanding one at that, commanding him to submit. If he were a lesser man or any other man at all he would’ve. A woman with a reputation as yours and a grand beast who stood off against the queen of dragons and came out victorious. Yes, now he understands why Borros Baratheon bent the knee to you. Your presence was commanding and strong. 

The presence that belongs to those who are regal. 

Luckily for Cregan Stark, he is not Borros Baratheon or any other man. The North itself is something to fear and Cregan has lived it his whole life, so he does not look away even as your dragon exhales a puff of smoke to him, it burns his eyes but he does not look away from you. It wasn’t until your uncle interrupted.

Your uncle Daemon called out to you and you both broke eye contact at the same time. For now, it was a tie. 

…

You had yet to speak a single word to Cregan and by this time it had already been a week. You bid your time talking to your mother, meeting with Acrocanthosaurus as he warmed you, avoiding your brother, and simply resting. Your leg was still in bad shape, it was painful walking up and down stairs. Walking in the snow only served to exhaust you. 

A knock sounded at the door as you heard a familiar voice call from the other side. Jacaerys, your traitorous little brother. 

“You cannot hope to win over the North if you never speak to any of them.” Jacaerys entered your room. 

You said nothing as you stared at him with no expression. “I am marrying the Warden of the North, if they’re as loyal as they say, it won’t matter if I turn into a damned silent sister. As long as I have the Stark next to me, the North will follow or so you say.” 

Jacearys looked at you as you spit his words to him. “I understand how you feel, but this is what is best. The North is a vital part.” He walked over to you, reaching his hand out as a sign of peace. 

You slapped it away as you glared up at him from your chair. “You cannot possibly claim to know how I feel.” You pushed yourself up from your chair and stood face to face with your brother. “So stop lying! What was best was me as heir, not you or anyone else's! Me!” 

You breathed heavily as you walked close to him until you could feel his breath on your face. “I was born for it. I was not born out of love and you know that. Look at me and then look at you.” Your Valyrian features stared back at his plain ones. “We are not the same, we share a mother, but I am not born of Harwin Strong.” You knew this was crossing a line, to call your own brother a bastard. However, the worst part is you didn’t know if you meant it or not. You just felt so angry. Angry that you were sold like you were worth nothing! As if anyone had a claim to you as if you were some prize, as if you were only good for giving heirs when you were made for the Iron Throne. It was the only reason your father Laenor and your mother had you! You did not lack love, but to know you were not truly born from love like your brothers were, perhaps, it was a need to prove that it was all worth it. 

You being born was worth it. 

So when you watched your little brother clench his jaw and look away so you did not see that your words had hurt him, you had to pull the instinctual hand that reached for him so naturally to comfort him. 

Your little brother who pulled your hair when he was younger, your little brother whom you sang to when he was born, your little brother who you held through stormy nights, your little brother who always wanted to be with you but you sent him away, your little brother who had such a kind heart and always cried when you got hurt. 

To hurt your first little brother felt as if you stabbed yourself and it hurt, it hurt so much. It hurt more than any physical injury ever could. 

When Jacaerys looked back at you and saw the slight redness in your eyes that was forming and your eyes glossed over. It took him by surprise. He had never seen you cry or even be on the verge of it. He had seen you angry, so angry sometimes it scared him when he was younger. He remembers seeing you slap a maid so hard that the bottom of her jaw and to this day looks uneven. Then you sent her to be whipped through the streets and all because you caught a little whisper from her calling him a bastard. He had seen you reckless like the day you protected him, and your brothers by putting your own legitimacy on the line. He had seen you vengeful against Ser Criston Cole, he had seen you in all your moments, and in all the moments you stood tall. 

Jacaerys thought the world of you. 

You were invincible. To him, to everyone, you were someone who could never be broken.

I will always be your older sister, you will never be able to best me.

Those were the words you spoke to him. When you fought him and had him pinned down, those would be the words you would tell him every time without fail. It only served to remind him just how grand you were.

So to see you on the verge of tears because of what he had done to you. He had broken his big sister who was supposed to be invincible, he felt like his legs were going to give out. He wished he could take back what he had done to you. To look at you as you seemed to crack felt wrong. 

He wanted his invincible big sister back. His invincible big sister who would brave anything and everything all in the name of him, for Lucerys, for Joffrey. 

He felt like a boy again crying for you when he saw you get hurt from trying to mount your dragon only to fall. He felt like a boy who cried because he didn’t know why the Queen gave him such mean looks but you were always there to stand in front of him protecting him from the gazes and the whispers. 

At this moment he wanted his big sister to tell him that it was okay and that she forgave him and to tell him that he’s not a bastard, that he's your little brother and you’re his big sister, and that he will never be able to best you. 

He didn’t want to be the reason why you cry, though he knows it should be him comforting you, but he can’t help but yearn for it himself. 

So Jacaerys looks away from you and turns away to walk out. Before he walks out he turns and looks at you with regretful eyes, regret for the misery he has caused you. “For what it's worth, I truly am sorry and I only did what I thought was best.” 

You watched Jacearys walk out and you extended your hand out to him before you retracted it. You covered your mouth as tears leaked from your eyes. A quiet sob escaped your lips as you cried begging for God's forgiveness for calling your little brother a bastard. 

…

Cregan watched as his men spoke in the dining hall and to his right at your family and to his left was your chair which was empty and his half-sister, Sara who sat on your left. Cregan had demanded that everyone wait to begin the feast until you attended. By this time, you were very late, however, he had heard how long it takes you to go down and up the stairs due to your injury. 

 Finally, a couple minutes later the doors of the dining hall opened and there you were in all your glory. A fine gown you wore, a remnant of the southern style. A deep crimson red, with subtle patterned embroidery throughout. The bodice was adorned with a gold chain-like trim along the neckline and waist, which is emphasized by a central brooch at the chest. The dress had a layered look, with an underlayer of shimmering gold fabric visible beneath the crimson outer layer, which features detailed scroll-like patterns.

Your sleeves were long and wide, typical style of southern ladies, with a luxurious golden fabric peeking through. Your sleeves also have lace at the cuffs, adding to the opulence of the gown. A gold necklace with a pendant mirrors the gold accents in the gown. You looked at the very image of a regal aristocratic appearance.

He watched you as you walked slowly to the main table. You moved so slowly yet you had no limp though he could see the slight tense look your face held. Surely you were still in pain and you could show none of it as everyone watched you walk down the aisle towards him. Agonizingly slow you walked around the table to your spot next to him. He heard the slightly heavy breaths and sounds you made as you sat down. 

When you finally sat your mother lifted her chalice in honor of the marriage. “To the union of two great houses.” The men cheered as they each lifted their chalice.

Cregan lifted his chalice and standing he turned to your mother toasting her honor. “To the rightful Queen.” Once more his men cheered and he watched you toast earnestly to your mother. He sat down and watched you from the corner of his eye watching you drink all your wine in one fell swoop. You saw you turn to him afterward and he faced you. 

“I apologize for my tardiness, Lord Stark. Normally I tend to be punctual, however, Winterfell is grand and unknown to me, so I will do my best to be on time for our next banquet.” You spoke to him in a monotone and practiced way.  

“There is nothing to be forgiven for your grace, Winterfell is grand but you will learn your way eventually. I have also been informed of your injury, we take no offense to your delay.” He reassured you and gave him a hum of approval, though it sounded as if you dismissed not caring for his response. For the rest of the night, you didn’t talk to him again, nor did you ever give a smile, not even when Sara attempted to converse with you. 

…

You left before the banquet was over as your calf had begun to sting. Struggling up the stairs you dismissed all your ladies. Stopping and leaning against the wall you sighed. You still had a ways to go. Taking a deep breath you continued forward. 

“Do you want help?” A male voice rang out.

 You turned, it was Jacaerys. You felt a pang in your heart remembering your harsh words to him. He was your brother, despite the fact you were still deeply upset by the whole ordeal, you would never hate your little brother, not for long anyway. Swallowing your pride, you nodded. 

Jacaerys walked up the stairs and then picked up most of your weight off your injured leg. It was quiet as you both walked up the stairs. You spent the time thinking about how you would start your apology. Finally arriving at the door of your chamber, he opened it and sat you down on your bed. You thanked him and he nodded before turning around to leave. 

Jacaerys had originally sought to find you to apologize but he found that he wasn’t brave enough to. Not because he wasn’t sorry, but because he didn’t know what he would do if you didn’t forgive him. He saw the look you gave him. You were outraged with him and it had been a fortnight since the day you stormed into his room. To see that anger directed at him, he didn’t know if you would have mercy on him. He had never known you to be merciful to those who enraged you. 

Jacaerys doesn’t think he could bear it if his big sister refused to forgive him. He couldn’t bear that rejection, so he figured it would be best that he not even try. If he does not try, then he cannot be rejected. 

As he turned to leave he felt your hand grasp his. He turned and looked at you as you looked at him with those same glossy eyes from before. 

“Jacaerys wait.” You told him. Your voice was fragile and meek. A tone he had never heard before. It made his hand tremble just a bit.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered out before you began crying. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it! I swear! I would never presume you to be what I called you.” You cried harder as Jacaerys stood still watching you cry. You gripped his hand tightly. “I was just…” Your voice cracked as you spoke to him. “You cannot begin to understand how I felt when you told me I was being married off. I felt like a mare being sold off to be bred. I felt as if I was being stripped of my worth! My worth as a person because the gods know that we women have been deemed to have little worth other than our wombs!” You hugged his waist and cried begging for his forgiveness. 

Squeezing your hand in his he fell to his knees cradling your face and shaking his head. The shame he felt making you cry and beg for his forgiveness was unbearable. Jacaerys has always thought the world of you and he will always think the world of you. Your image could never be destroyed by him. 

“You are the wrong sister! There is nothing to be forgiven for! It is I who should be begging for your forgiveness.” He spoke with desperation as he wiped the tears from your eyes. “I have sent you to a life that was not meant for you. I am sorry, I am sorry for making you cry! I never intended it, I would never hurt you. I can take it back, here and now, I can march in the banquet and call off the wedding!” He hugged your waist as his face was in your skirts begging for your forgiveness. “If I had known this marriage would bring you to tears I would’ve never even suggested it to Lord Stark!”

“Sweet brother,” You called and he lifted his head up to you. In you, he saw his caring older sister, and despite your disheveled look and a flushed face from crying, you sat there holding his face, his sister who always took care of him. He had felt himself shrink back into the young boy who always sought out his sister. He felt your hand brush his curls back and he leaned into your touch. 

“I do not cry because of what you did.” He furrowed his brows in confusion as you gave him a soft smile. “I cry because of the pain I caused you. You mean the world to me Jacaerys. You, Lucerys, Joffrey, and mother. You all mean the world to me and I would burn King’s Landing down and the rest of the world then see any of you hurt.” He held your hand and cradled it against his face as you smiled. “I cry because I was the reason you were hurt. The awful things I said to you, they should’ve never even entered my mind, and for that little brother, I will spend the rest of my days repenting.” 

“I thought it was because of what I did…” He trailed off relishing the feeling of his sister’s comforting hand against his face. 

“Silly boy, I am your older sister and you will never beat me, you will never make me cry for something you did. I shed tears for you because I love you.” You smile at your little brother as your other hand comes up to cradle his face. You feel the incoming facial hair and you feel a surge of that well-known sadness in your heart at how big your little brother has grown. “I will always love you and Joffrey, mother and Lucerys. It is all I live for. The moments I share your laughter are all I can ask for in this life. No throne is worth having you think I hate you. I will never hate you or our brothers.”  

“I can still march down there and call off the wedding.” Jacearys offered while looking up at you. He watched you shake your head. 

“I would sooner see myself impaled than bring shame to you or our family. Despite my unwillingness, I will not disgrace you. Even if the Stark came and said he didn’t want to marry me. I would have Acrocanthosaurus bring him to me.” You jested smiling down at him. 

“Such a long name you have given your dragon.” Jacaerys teases while staying in your hold. 

“I think it is a proper name, it suits him. High-spined lizard is what his name means.” You grin at him as Jacaerys flutters his eyes closed and smiles and at that moment you wish for all time to stop, to let you and your brother remain in this moment forever.

…

Cregan was neither stupid nor blind. He knew you did not want this marriage. It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to hide it. Sending all the ladies from noble Northern houses away who were delighted at the possibility of being part of your ladies-in-waiting. You had not sought him in the week you had been here for the possibility of getting to know him. It became increasingly clear that this marriage to you was nothing more than an annoyance. You didn’t have to say it, but Southerners had such a way with words and body language that always communicated the message clearly. 

You were not here by choice. 

Cregan was not someone who would force someone into something they did not want, his allegiance would still be there, this marriage was simply a courtesy that he had accepted from Prince Jacaerys. It worked out well for Cregan, he would get the elders to stop pressuring him about marriage and an heir while strengthening his bonds with the South. Your dragon was an extra welcome for what lay beyond the wall. However, if you objected to this marriage, he would not push, after all, Arra Norrey was still a candidate for him to marry. He’d rather have someone willing and someone he knew and loved than someone who didn’t even seem to like the North. 

So after the banquet was over Cregan set out to your chambers intent on talking to you. He walked and opened the door only to see you and your brother. Your hands were on either side of his face as you whispered to him that you loved him and that you would always love him, while Jacaerys learned into your touch. 

When you both noticed his presence Jacaerys quickly stood up while you stayed seated on your bed.  “Lord Stark.” Both you and Jacearys spoke in unison. Cregan had known it was common practice to marry brother and sister within the Targaryen family. Then it suddenly became clear to him, perhaps, that you did not want to marry him because you were in love with your brother and wished to marry him. Though if that were the case then why would Jacaerys offer you to him, perhaps he did not know and you decided to confess on the night before your wedding.  

“I did not know you were coming, my ladies did not inform me.” You spoke with a cool tone as if he didn’t catch you confessing to your brother. 

“I did not inform anyone your ladies are not at fault,” Cregan responded in his tone, taking on his usual firmness that until now, he didn’t have. He didn’t know why he spoke to you like that, you didn’t mean anything to him and he had hardly spoken to you. What he caught between you and your brother shouldn’t mean anything to him, but you were to his bride and his lady, perhaps it was his image he was worried about.

“Why have you come to see my sister, Lord Stark?” Jacaerys spoke, annoyed that Cregan had spoiled the moment between him and his older sister. 

“I had come to speak to her of private matters that I have noticed as of late,” Cregan looked at the both of you with a practiced face. 

You nod and look towards Jacaerys. You smiled at him before he nodded and left. 

“My Lord, apologies, my brother and I, we share a bond that of late had suffered hardships, I wished to reconcile with him before our wedding tomorrow.” You explained as you offered him a seat which he declined. 

“No matter your grace, if you do not wish to break the bond you and your brother have, I will not take offense to it. I know it is your family’s custom to marry siblings and if I will not force you into a marriage that is not of your own accord.” Cregan told you. He watched you furrow your brows. In truth, he did wish for you not to marry him, his heart lay with another but it would be an insult to his pride, and a man no matter how honorable, will always have pride.

“Excuse you?” You looked at him offended. “Marry my brother? What brought about the notion that I should want to marry my brother?” You narrowed your eyes at him. You found it disgusting that he would twist your innocent relationship with Jacaerys into something else. 

“If you want an excuse to not marry me, be a man and tell it as it is.” You limped forward glaring at him. “But don’t ever presume to twist the love I have for my brother as an excuse.”

“What else am I supposed to make of it when I find you and your brother in such a way? Your refusal of all Northern traditions. It is well accepted that siblings within the Targaryens marry.” He retorted, matching your fierce tone. 

“You insult the relationship my brother and I share!? Why you-!” You gasped in disbelief while Cregan looked at you coldly. “You Northern brutes! Your hearts are so frozen that you cannot even distinguish sibling love from that of lovers!” You insult him.

“A Northern brute is it?” He scoffs at you. “Then perhaps, you shouldn’t marry these Northern brutes and go back home to your fair springs and summers you’ve known all your life.” He retorted looking down at you. Despite the obvious size disparity, you did not back down and instead walked forward so your chest was against his, or it would’ve been, yours only reaching just under his. He stared in disbelief at your actions.

“I don’t want to marry you! I never did! I am the Crown Princess, why would I ever agree to marry you?” You raised your voice slightly at him.

“Good. I would rather have a wife who would at least try to make something of this-” Cregan fought the urge to make a face at the hand you shoved in his face, cutting him off.

“But…It has already been agreed that I will marry you. Whether you like it or not, you and I will be husband and wife tomorrow.” You poked his chest every time you spoke to him. “Should you refuse me and stay within these pretty walls…” You trailed your fingers up his chest up to his neck and wrapped your arm around him bringing him down a little. “I will have Acrocanthosaurus tear down these grand walls that your ancestor built and drag you out by your,” You played with the hem of the fur on his cloak. “Cloak.” You let go while Cregan stood trying to understand what just happened. 

“Now get out! I would rather not be angry on the day of my wedding and your presence and the impiety you spoke of between me and my brother only serves to infuriate me.” You pushed him back as hard as you could only to see him step back slightly as he looked down at you with a look you couldn’t quite describe. Pushing him a couple more times you close the door on him as you limp back to your bed. 

Outside your door, Cregan stood confused. Words you spoke had no sense in them. First, you confessed that you wanted nothing to do with him and you didn’t want this marriage and the next you threatened that if he rejected you, you would drag him out using your dragon. A vexing woman you were. 

…

The next morning went by faster than Cregan would’ve liked it to—the day of his wedding to you. Your exchange last night left him quite unsure of your nature. He tried not to think about you too much, not about your touch to his chest, or your arm around him, not your sweet wine-scented breath on the side of his face that made his hair stand on end, and certainly not your chest against his. Your words that were meant as a threat ignited something within that he would rather not admit. A woman like you, a woman with a sharp tongue as yours, he had never had the pleasure of meeting, you were his first. 

However, he felt a guilt pool in his gut as he thought of Arra Norrey. She will be in attendance today. He had always felt that she would be the one he would marry. His heart belonged to her but he thought of you. A damned woman you were, never had he thought about you, not the day Jacaerys had promised you to him, not the day you arrived in Winterfell in all your glory, not a single day until last night. 

All night he stayed up thinking of what you told him, thinking of your Valyrian features instead of the brown hair and brown eyes of Arra. Though the guilt seeped into him, it did not stop him from thinking of you. He briefly entertained the idea of rejecting you to see if you were true to your word. If you would force him to marry you, if you would really tear down the walls of Winterfell to get to him. He later decided that it would be best to not test that theory. Regardless of when to shift his thoughts to Arra instead of you the contrasts of your personality would come to his mind. 

Finally having enough of thinking of you he went to Weirwood tree to think, the very place where the two of you would be married. He sat on the bench as he wore his wedding attire simply looking at his reflection in the blackness of the water. He didn’t know how long he stared until a figure appeared in the pond next to him. He turned swiftly to see the person he was dreading looking in the eye. Arra Norrey, the woman he thought he was going to marry, and he, the man she thought she was going to marry. 

“I thought I’d find you here.” She spoke softly like she always did. Despite being of the North, Arra did not have the characteristics of a Northern woman, she was not hardened by the ice nor cold winds of winter. “I wanted to speak to you one more time before you became a married man, to the Crown Princess nonetheless, to the realm’s delight I heard she was deemed, like her mother. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her.” 

“It has been no pleasure.” It slipped out of his mouth before could register what he said. He heard Arra laugh beside him. He had forgotten how relaxed he would feel next to her. He wondered if he would ever feel that relaxed with you. He doubted it with your sharp tongue, if anything it would have to be him to keep you in line. 

He sighed and cursed himself for thinking of you while he had Arra right next to him. 

“She is the blood of the dragon and you have the winds of winter flowing through your veins. I wouldn’t expect it to be for the both of you to get along well.” Arra offered though Cregan found himself with a little thorn of annoyance at her comment. 

“Is she as beautiful as they say? As they say, all  Targeryens are?” She asks leaning forward while leaning on her arm. 

“She is the blood of old Valryia and she holds true to their features. Their hair, white as snow, and their eyes purple as lavender. It makes for quite a face to look at.” He admits to her as he looks at her through the reflection of the pond. 

“Has she agreed to give up the Crown for you and the North?” She asked, turning to him and looking at the side of his face, admiring him. 

“She still refers to herself as the Crown Princess, I don’t think she plans on abandoning her ambition for a throne that is rightfully hers.” He speaks to Arra and turns to face her only to find her closer to his face than he expected. His eyes drift down to her lips and then back up to her face. A face he had grown up with, a face that grew more beautiful with each passing day. 

“Cregan…” Arra spoke in a soft tone. “She will never just be the lady of Winterfell as one needs your wife to do.” She spoke softer as Cregan crept closer to her. 

He watched her lean forward, he found himself doing the same and under the Weirwood tree, Cregan kissed the woman who was supposed to be his wife. Years of yearning surfaced and soon it became desperate with her clawing at his cloaks as he held her tight against him. She broke away from him to breathe. He watched her eyes widen in fear. She backed away from him and watched her nearly fall back before he caught her. 

“Arra?” He questioned before she saw her point behind him in fear. “Dra-” She didn’t even finish the sentence before Cregan felt a heat on his back and black smoke spreading around him. Turning he saw your dragon, Acrocanthosaurus you called him. The large beast crept forward, eyes green and angry. It gave a loud roar and he heard Arra scream from under him. Cregan saw its tail coming fast, he ducked and told Arra to run. 

He watched her go while he stood in front of the great beast who looked as angry as ever. He could only stand and yell at it to stop in an attempt to get it to stop and focus on him instead of the direction Arra had run to. 

Your dragon bared its teeth itching closer. This beast was loyal to you and intelligent, it had probably seen what happened under the Weirwood tree, the same Weirwood tree that he was set to marry you in only a couple of hours. 

“Kelītīs!” (Stop) You yelled and Acrocanthosaurus did but not before blowing hot black smoke in his face ruining his clothes as black soot covered him. 

“Jikagon” (Go) You murmured as you kissed his snout. Growling Acrocanthosaurus left you and Cregan alone while his men and your ladies stood back. You glared at him as you took off your coat to wipe the soot off his face. 

“What did you do?” You questioned him. 

“What was your dragon doing in the Weirwood forest? He would have burnt it down.” He retorted, avoiding your question. 

“I asked first.” You countered as you finished rubbing the soot off of his face going down to start on his clothes. He stopped you as he stood up. 

“Keep him out of these woods,” Cregan ordered you and you felt yourself clenched your jaw. 

“You cannot command a dragon. Dragons do whatever they want, eat whatever they want, whenever they want.” You stood tall as he gave you his back.

 He turned to face you over his shoulder before telling you once more to keep him out of the woods before he walked off. So much for going to the weirwood forest to get his mind off of you. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and your ladies ruched to you. You told them to go away as you limped deeper into the weirwood calling Acrocanthosaurus back. He landed hard and loud and you knew Cregan felt it. Satisfied, Acrocanthosaurus reached his claw to you and you climbed on for him to bring you up to his saddle. Fastening yourself you flew off. 

Cregan turned and watched as you rode off on your beast. 

…

The people sat in the seats provided in the weirwood forest anxious. They had heard of the quarrel between future spouses and how you flew off on your dragon. They feared the worst. That you would never return. Your mother had sent Daemon, Lucerys, and Jacaerys to look for you. All three came back without news, though Rhaenyra doubts Daemon tried hard to find you. 

All the guests sat uncomfortably while Cregan stood in the front waiting for his bride-to-be though his eyes kept drifting to Arra. Each time his eyes would wander, he would find her eyes already on him. Every time he looked at her, their kiss flashed before his eyes. Their kiss under the weirwood tree made it sacred. Yet despite that here he stood alone preparing to marry someone else. 

As he stared at Arra longer the more his patience thinned for you. If you didn’t show then why marry you when he could marry Arra, someone who wouldn’t leave him here looking like an idiot. He gave a frustrated sigh and was prepared to walk off, however, as he sighed he felt a familiar rumble. 

He watched your dragon land with a heavy thud with you on top. He watched as you held on to the claw your dragon offered you and watched you land and stand towards the end of the aisle. Jacaerys quickly gets up walking to you before offering his hand as if you weren’t late to your own wedding. 

Cregan watches Jacearys whisper something but you don't seem to respond. His eyes look behind you focusing on Arra who seems to have her eyes on you. He watched Arra stare at you as you walked down the aisle.  

The maester stopped before them as the ceremony began snapping Cregan’s attention back to you and your brother. 

“Who comes before the old gods tonight?” The maester asked.

Jacaerys spoke your name and all the titles you had won. “Has come to be wed. A woman, grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods.” 

He watched your eyes flicker towards your brother at the words.

“Who comes to claim her?” Your brother finished. 

Cregan stepped forward. “Cregan, of House Stark. Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.” As he spoke those words he caught sight of Arra shifting in her seat uncomfortably. “Who gives her?” Cregan's eyes shifted towards your brother away from Arra. 

“Jacaerys of House Velaryon, her brother.” He responds in kind now waiting for the Maester’s next words.

“Your Grace, do you take this man?” The Maester asked, looking at you.

He watched you as you looked at him with an expression he couldn’t read. He saw all the eyes focusing on you, the unamused look of your uncle Daemon, the expectant look on your mother’s face, but the only look that he could pay attention to was the hurt expression on Arra’s face, almost begging for you to say no.

You stepped forward to Cregan. “I take this man.” Just like that, Cregan’s and your life was changed irreversibly. He would never marry the woman he first kissed under the weirwood tree and you now became the lady of the steadfast that lay over four hundred leagues away. 

He heard the claps that erupted from the crowd. He looked into the crowd and only looked down at you when he saw you come closer to him, your cold hands landed on either side of his face. He felt the slight pull from your hands and he obliged, leaning down and looking at you and your features, the features he had spent all last night thinking of. He closed his eyes expecting to feel your kiss. 

He did feel your kiss, just not where he expected, instead, he felt it on the side of his mouth. Your lips were cold but soft. He felt disappointed that you didn’t kiss him, but when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t find it in himself to remain that way for long. 

Your face was flushed, pink on your face becoming more prominent. Your face was ever pleasing to the eye, and now that it was flushed, you didn’t look him in the eye and had a shy expression on, Cregan doesn’t think anyone else could ever compare, he couldn’t think of anyone that even came close. No one or nothing was in his mind other than you. You were irresistible in that moment and for the first time since the ceremony started, Cregan only had eyes for you.

He went to reach his hands out to give you a proper kiss. He could barely contain the excitement that if this was your face with a slight innocent kiss, how would you look when he gave you a real kiss? 

Before he had the chance to find out however you turned away from him. You gave the crowd an embarrassed smile and Cregan could not find the will to look away from you.

…

As you turned away from Cregan trying your best to push away the unwanted blush on your face, you looked at Acrocanthosaurus who didn’t exactly look pleased. During the flight you had felt his anger, not anger at anything, but for you. Acrocanthosaurus was incredibly perceptive and very intelligent as all dragons are, so when you felt the anger, you knew Cregan had done something to elicit the reaction from him, however, you didn’t know what Cregan did or how serious it was. Acrocanthosaurus already didn’t like him due to your initial feelings about the whole ordeal of marrying him, but Acrocanthosaurus had a bit of temper making his anger towards Cregan a bit unreliable. 

However, now as you stand facing everyone you look toward where Acrocanthosaurus had his gaze narrowed on the left side of the crowd. You drew your eyes and in the crowd sat a familiar woman. A woman with Northen features, plain features. You stared at her and her family. They bore the sigil of a Northern house that you had never seen before, pray to tell, you didn’t put much effort into memorizing them but it was clear this woman had something to do with why Acrocanthosaurus nearly spit fire at the Warden of the North. 

You drew your gaze from the woman who looked oddly familiar, in any case, there was no reason for you to look at her when she was so clearly not paying any attention to you, instead, she looked next to you. Ignoring her you looked towards your mother who gave you a nod of approval. You could only find it in you to give a courteous smile back all while your Uncle Daemon gave you a knowing look. You knew he would much rather you be married off to another Targaryen, he knew full and well you did not want this marriage and when he could, he tried to persuade your mother against having you marry Cregan Stark, though all in vain as you now stood here, the newest Lady of Winterfell. 

After some time the party made its way inside the walls of Winterfell. Throughout the night you had seen Cregan tap his food more than you’d seen anyone tap their foot in your life. You wondered if that was simply a habit he had, though in your opinion it was unbecoming of a lord like him, or if he was simply an impatient man. 

The Northern lords had come to introduce themselves to their new lady. You sat still with a plain smile on your mouth. Finally, the woman who Acrocanthosaurus had been glaring at came up with her family. You noticed her eyes only really sat on Cregan only ever briefly looking at you. They must’ve known each other as they looked at each other with familiar friendliness. 

“My Lady…” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the title. As far as you were concerned you were still very much Crown Princess. You still wanted to rule, it’s what you were made for, and you’ll be damned before any marriage to a Stark or any other lord would take that title away from you. You got lost in your thoughts not really registering whatever courtesies they were saying. “House Norrey is glad to welcome you. Our daughter, Arra Norrey, would be pleased to be a lady in waiting.” Your ears focused when they mentioned the house name. 

‘Norrey…Norrey?’ You had heard that name before, someone had told you that name before.

“I must warn you, in marrying my brother, he might be a little closed off to you, for you were not the person that was intended for marriage. House Norrey and their daughter, Arra Norrey, were very close to the Starks and they have grown up together and both intended to marry each other when they were younger. But do not fret your grace! My brother is ever dutiful and is the embodiment of honor itself. He will fulfill his duty as best he can and over time you will see he will grow to care for you and as you will.” Sara Snow, the bastard of the late Lord Rickon Stark, spoke to you in hushed tones. 

Your eye twitched at her blabbering. You honestly wanted nothing to just tell her to shut up and that you could care less about Cregan’s childhood sweetheart. If anything it made Cregan less appealing in your eyes than he already was. You already felt insulted that a bastard was seated next to you, more so that she had the nerve to talk to you as if you were friends or worse, sisters. Having enough of the bastard's words you gave her a curt smile and excused yourself from the banquet. 

‘Norrey.’ That's right that blabbering bastard girl had told you about them. Childhood friends who thought they were going to marry…. ‘Oh.’ The thought echoed in your head and suddenly your plain smile became a forced one as you struggled to keep your composure as you felt your anger spike. The woman, Arra, looked at you and finally, you realized what happened, she was the woman who had yelled that your dragon was going to burn Cregan, she had been in the Gods Wood with him…alone. That whore and the man who you now called husband had done something they weren’t supposed to be doing in the very place you married him, that's why Acrocanthosaurus acted the way he did. He had seen. That's also why Cregan avoided your question.

Everything started to click in your mind and the more it did the more you had to suppress the anger that threatened to spill. 

“My lady, you look radiant,” Arra spoke to you. You felt your eye start itching, a sign it would start twitching. 

“Yes, as are all Targaryens.” You didn’t bother thanking her for the compliment. “Lady Arra is it?” You questioned her as she smiled brightly at you. 

‘Bitch.’ The word echoed in your mind. 

“I am. I am honored you recognized me.” She spoke. You noticed while she kept her eyes on you, her attention was not. Instead, it was on the man next to you. 

“How could I not? You are the only reason why I have my Lord husband next to me. I thank you for calling attention to me.” That seemed to get her attention, but it wasn’t her attention you wanted. What you wanted was to insult every part of her being and have her publicly shamed. Have her naked and whipped through the streets. If she was so eager to open her legs to your Lord Husband, it didn’t matter who saw what was underneath her cheap Northern dress.

“Your father told me you want to be my lady-in-waiting?” You looked her up and down and smiled watching her smile in turn. Surely she wanted nothing more than to be back in Winterfell.

“I’m sure I will need more in due time.” You leaned over and grabbed your husband’s hand holding it close to your stomach as you leaned into him. You didn’t bother to acknowledge Cregan’s reaction. Normally if this were the South you wouldn't be so bold, but you're sure she didn’t pick up your distaste for her. Northern women were so utterly dense. “With the many children Cregan and I will have, it will be such a handful, and having you there to help me take care of the future heirs of Winterfell born between Cregan and I, would bring me the most joy.” You watched her smile fall before quickly replacing it with a smile. 

‘Idiot.’ You rolled your eyes internally at her reaction. Southern ladies of the court would never let their faces fall not even for a second, she wouldn’t last a day in court.

For the rest of the night, you kept Cregan’s hand in your own hands only offering fake smiles to him but never speaking a word to him or anyone else. 

Finally, it was time for the bedding ceremony. You stood up trembling, your leg and hip were stiff from sitting too long. Cregan helped you up, you thanked him before walking slowly trying to avoid limping. The men cheered and rallied around you and Cregan. You knew it was a part of tradition but to have these people see you, people you deemed as common seeing your bare body, it made you disgusted. Their grimy eyes watching you, the Northerners, truly beastly savages, no different than wildlings in your eyes. 

Looking at the ways you had to go you sighed as you took the first step up the stairs. It hurt. Once more you took another, then one more before you had to stop to let your leg rest. You felt a pair of strong arms grab and lift you. It took everything you had not to scream, not only because you had no idea who grabbed you, but also because it hurt, they had pushed your legs together and consequently your calves together having them rub against one another. 

Vhagar’s tooth went completely through your calf and Maesters told you that it was probable that you would never walk normally again.

Cregan apologized for the pain he caused you. He had heard your small yelp when he lifted you. Before continuing upstairs he turned and told his men off, that the bedding ceremony should only require a maester and a witness. His men walked away leaving only your mother, your uncle, and the Maester of Winterfell. 

Entering the wedding chambers built specifically for bedding ceremonies, he set you down while your mother, uncle, and Maester went behind a wall to watch. You looked over to where your witnesses would be watching from and breathed in a deep breath before looking away and began to undo your wedding gown as Cregan began to undress himself. 

This was less than ideal for him, he’d rather have you without watching eyes, but the North’s very foundation lay on tradition. 

He stood bare in front of you yet you did not look at him or at least at the parts he wanted you to see, instead focused on his face as you undid the back of your dress. He walked behind you helping you with the laces until your dress fell off you. He took in the sight of your body and began rubbing the sides of your arms while kissing your shoulders taking in your scent. He heard you take in a heavy breath before you turned to face him. He reached for your face as he bent down intent on finally claiming your lips as his. 

He fought off a surprise look when you avoided it and instead kissed his cheek. “I’d rather not share something so intimate.” Though your words had other meanings he didn’t know that. He nodded and gently pushed down to the bed as he crawled over you.

…

Behind the wall, Rhaenyra stood as she compared her first time or any of the times she had with her lovers with what she was seeing. It lacked all the passion she had for her first time, and for the first time, she began doubting her decision to endorse this marriage. She felt Daemons’s eyes on her. She looked up at him, the guilt starting to pool in her stomach. He looked at her with a look that told her ‘I told you this was a mistake.’ She sighed before making her way out. The first penetration had already been made and there was no reason to stay any longer. So as she left, Daemon and the Maester followed out behind her. 

…

Hours after your first time together Cregan lay awake as he watched you face the wall, your back to him. He was confident the eyes behind the wall had left. He reached for you brushing your hair off your back. You turned to him, his marks already taking form on your collarbone and your breasts. 

He reached for your face once more and you stayed still making him lean in. “I’d rather not share something so intimate.” You repeated your words to him. 

“There is no one here but you and I, I swear it.” Cregan inched closer to you looking deep into your eyes. “May I?” He asked caressing his thumb against your bottom lip. He watched as your lips moved to tell him the answer.

“No.”

Notes: I got lazy towards the end, sorry.

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

2/2

[silverflameataraxia]

I don't care if people ship Jonsa, but stop stealing content from Jonrya and somehow making it about Sansa when it's actually about Arya. And stop lying about Jon and Sansa's importance to each other.

Jon and Sansa rarely think about one another. Sansa thinks about Jon one time while pretending to be a bastard, and that was only after someone else brought him up. And that was the first time she thought about him since AGoT.

Jon, on the other hand, hardly thinks about Sansa either. It's Arya that he misses even more than Robb, and Arya who misses Jon the most out of all her siblings.

Jon compares Ygritte to Arya, not Sansa.

Jon wants to kill Ramsay for being betrothed to Arya, not Sansa.

Jon sends Mance to find the grey girl on a dying horse which was supposed to be Arya, not Sansa.

Jon was willing to forsake his vows to the Night's Watch for Arya, not Sansa.

Jon's favorite person in the world is Arya, and Arya's favorite person is Jon.

[mattyalwayssmokesweed]

I know Ned was stressed as hell seeing his daughter, who resembles Lyanna physically and in attitude, become friends with Robert’s bastard son and Edric Dayne aka mister pale blonde hair and purple eyes. Like that man was about to die again from a heart attack, hands shaking as he pulled at his hair, thinking to himself “no, gods, no. Not this again. No one give my girl a flower please”

[0bsessiv3s0ul]

Helaena Targaryen

[yandereunsolved]

Hi 👋 I have a few technical questions for the self aware au for HOTD, if you wouldn’t mind me asking.

Does the world just… stop if we pause the tv? If I rewind a scene bc of whatever reason would that give then motion sickness? Back on pausing the show, does the world stop but the character don’t? Like if I paused the tv and started talking to someone about whatever, is Aemond crossing his arms and tapping his shoes while pouting? WOULD MUTING THEM ACTUALLY MAKE THEM MUTE??

Are the dragons jealous if we talk about dragons from other forms of media? I have loyalty to Paarthurnax for best dragon 😅 ooo what If we had a Skyrim tattoo? Imagine comparing lore?

And lastly, how would they react if we had started watching game of thrones? I like to try to rewatch stuff in chronological order if prequels or branching media gets made, I like to see the chain of events you know? Would the self awareness spread to more of that verse bc of that? Can we pull John Snow?

Sorry for the wall of text and rambling, I love LOVE self aware aus and love learning more about them

Let me retrieve my sacred lore scroll.

retrieves it.

For every rule I lay down here—they can be broken under one circumstance: if the character is completely self-aware. None of the characters I have written so far have gotten to that point. Complete self-awareness may drive any of them to insanity.

(1) Does the world stop if we pause the tv?

That version of the world stops. So that canon timeline is still there, but other things are happening off screen. They are subconsciously led back to the plot when the television is unpaused again.

(2) If I rewind a scene because of whatever reason—would that give then motion sickness?

It erases their memory and gives them a sense of deja vu. They prod inside of their mind but it's like a wall has been put up inside of their minds.

If the character is already predisposed to motion borne illnesses then they would get motion sickness.

Example. If Aegon II was incredibly drunk and you rewinded a part he was in it'd make him feel like he was going to throw up. However, he wouldn't actually throw up because he wasn't as drunk/or drunk at all (depending on how much your rewound) at that time.

(3) Would muting them actually make them mute?

Yes, it would. They would be talking in their world and wouldn't be able to understand how you aren't listening.

If they found out how to work the volume then you'd be screwed. Some may be able to do this unintentionally, while others would have to be more self-aware to unlock the ability.

Dreamers are more likely to be self-aware due to their inante abilities. So Helaena would it without even realizing it.

(4) Are the dragons jealous if we talk about dragons from other forms of media? —Imagine comparing lore.

Yes and no. It depends on the dragon's personality. If you were head over heels for another dragon in another form of media then any one of them would be jealous. If you just enjoy the dragons in that verse then some of them are okay with it.

Example(s). Vhagar would be okay with you liking other dragons as long as you liked her the most. Vermithor goes into a rage anytime you so much as mention another dragon in a positive context.

(5) How would they react if we had started watching game of thrones?

Confused at first. Since hotd is the prequel to got they'd be very puzzled. Then they'd be curious. If it took up all of your time then they'd be angry. There would already be an undercurrent of jealousy, but there's also a superiority complex there.

"We were here before them."

"Without us they wouldn't exist."

Them meaning got characters.

(6) Would the self awareness spread to more of that verse because of that?

When consuming any form of their media it is like a portal is being opened up into their world. That's the crux of what helps them become self aware. There's usually a moment in their lives that spurs that on.

With the hotd characters already being insanely jealous that interference between the two media's would cause the self awareness to spread.

(7) The most important question—Can we pull Jon Snow?

Yes.

The shit that dude has been through? He has plenty of opportunities to become self aware. Having someone there for him, even passively, would cause him to become obsessive. Possibly a bit bitter because you aren't helping him until he realizes that you are physically unable to.

Don't 👏 be 👏 sorry. 👏 I love giving lore.

[kaoribriefs]

"They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died." -Arianne I , TWOW

Euron, (f)Aegon, Dany, Jon.

[danytheconqueror-jonthewhitewolf]

Do you think that when Bloodraven was warging into Mormonts demon bird to spy on the NW, he watched Jon making decisions as Lord Commander and judged them with the same attitude that an older family member who micro manages everyone, would? Like,

"Oh, that's who you assigned for Eastwatch by the sea? Well, it's your command I suppose"

"That's how you negotiate with the braavosi? Not how I would have"

"I finally get a member of this forsaken family that follows the old gods, and you're going to let some Essosi priestess and a Baratheon burn branches of the weirwoods?!"

"JON SNOW. KING. I can only say so much in this body, but it is not that hard"

"DON'T you throw a pillow at me, boy! Go count your beets!"

[witchlingcirce]

Jon’s death in a dance with dragons is actually my Roman Empire because it gets me EVERYTIME!!!

There’s something really heartbreaking about his finale moments because this poor 16 year old boy is thinking about the two things that genuinely bring him the most comfort.

The “stick em with the pointy end” being him reminding himself of the last conversation he had with Arya, and how much he loved her :(, and also the fact part of the reason (one of many) why they even stabbed him in the first was him wanting to ride north to try and help Arya away from the Boltons as well. He loved Arya so muchhhhhh and he thought about this in his last moments.

AND GHOST always being a source of comfort or protection for Jon as well, not to mention how MUCH HE LOVED HIS WOLF 😭😭 if anyone was a ride or die for Jon it was ghost. The fact that ghost was the last thing Jon ever said, and he was probably calling his name for help (or a last bit of comfort).

Like ohhhhh George bring my son home I’m not kidding right nowowowowowowo 😭

[jeyneofpoole]

the unequal marriage (after pukirev)

[buildoblivion]

the black bastard of the wall

[hewantshisbrideback]

ARYA STARK AND THE GODS ❦ BOURNE FOR THE GOD OF DEATH

Thirty different gods stood along the walls, surrounded by their little lights. The Weeping Woman was the favorite of old women, Arya saw; rich men preferred the Lion of Night, poor men the Hooded Wayfarer. Soldiers lit candles to Bakkalon, the Pale Child, sailors to the Moon-Pale Maiden and the Merling King. The Stranger had his shrine as well, though hardly anyone ever came to him. Most of the time only a single candle stood flickering at his feet. The kindly man said it did not matter. "He has many faces, and many ears to hear."

The Many-Faced God, also known as Him of Many Faces, is a deity worshipped by the Faceless Men, a guild of assassins established in the Free City of Braavos. The tale of the guild's beginnings centers around a figure of unknown origins, the first Faceless Man, who heard the prayers of the slaves to their various gods of death and came to conclude they all prayed to the same god "with a hundred different faces", the Many-Faced God, and that he was "that god's instrument".

This belief came to be reflected in the Guild's temple, which has a large public sanctuary that contains idols of thirty death gods. The religious order refills its pool of black water with a poison, so that drinking from it leads to a painless death. Visiting worshippers light candles to their god, then drink from the fountain using a stone cup, then go lie in one of the alcoves. Others take advantage of special alcoves, called "dreaming couches", which have special candles that bring visions of the past, for a sweet and gentle death.

Followers of Him of Many Faces consider death to be part of the natural order of things and a merciful end to suffering. The guild will agree to kill anyone in the known world, for a price, considering this contract to be a sacrament of their god. The price is always high or dear, but within means of the person if they are willing to make the sacrifice. The cost of their services also depends on the prominence and security of the target.

The High Valyrian words associated with the cult and its assassins are valar morghulis, or "all men must die", and its traditional response, valar dohaeris, or "all men must serve". This philosophy runs deep. Members are made to forsake their identities for the service of the Many-Faced God, and may only assassinate targets they have been hired to kill. They are not allowed to choose who is worthy of the "gift" by themselves.

[spicy30]

Echoes of a Stolen Fate 2/2

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targ!Reader

cw: Blood, Bastardry stigma, infidelity, classism, regionalism (regional bias), childbirth

Rating: 16+

tags: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, the reader has anger issues, reader is depressed reader takes issues against bastards, reader does not like the north, reader acts like a princess (discriminates against those who are not like her (gets it from her mom tbh, have you read about Rhaenyra?)), Reader has traditional Targaryen features (Hair and eyes, skin color nor body specified), Dino Dragon is named Acrocanthosaurus because I'm not original, Reader is assumed to be true-born due to traditional Targ features

(Not Proofread)

Bold text noted to be High Valyrian

First part: 1/2

Indulgence is based on this post. Inspo Dino Dragon is Acrocanthosaurus.

WC: 13.2K

You felt like you were withering as the weeks passed by here in the North, the same thing every day. You’d wake before your husband in the cold room, groom yourself until you were presentable, and then you would dress in simple clothes such is the Northern fashion, skip breakfast, and go to the cold Gods Wood to ‘pray’. Then you would begin your duties as Lady of Winterfell; planning meals, overseeing finance, delegating resources, planning events, preparing for the long winter cold that the Starks never seem to shut up about, planning the staff's daily doings, going to the Maester for your daily check in. They seemed eager for an heir for Cregan. Then and only then would you eat your one meal of the day, then get up once again.

You wrote daily to your brother and uncle for updates, and then you wrote letters to the alliances you secured through the possibility of marriage to you but as you are married now, they seemed to pull away. Those letters only served to infuriate you, so after a healthy dose of daily hitting the cold stone wall so no one would hear and toss their letters into the fire watching them burn, you would get ready to meet with whatever ladies you were set to entertain today.  

Then afterward, you made it a priority to go greet the commons of Winterfell, though you had to fight the urge to scowl when they smiled at you. Their ugly teeth greeting you, and commons touching you with their dirty hands. The only good thing about the North is the cold stifled the disgusting smell this place would surely have, but when commons got too close or spoke to you, you’d smell their rotten breath and their putrid scent. It was disgusting and every time you went out, you felt like running away, far away from here forever because Winterfell was oh so dull, gray, and cold.

Then after your daily nightmare of interacting with the commons of Winterfell, you’d go back home only to be badgered by the servants of Winterfell seeking guidance. Every day, every single damned day of your existence here in this cold desolate place called Winterfell felt like monotonous hell.

Then finally as the day comes to a close, you’d go to the dinning room only for your husband to bore you with his attempts at conversation. After your husband finishes eating, you’d both go to your shared chambers where you’d do your duty always having him finish fast never bothering to catch your own high then sitting still as you felt his seed sit inside you. 

You’d pretend to sleep until he slept, and then you would wake and sit on a nearby chair that was always cold, and stare at the map of Westeros. It was horribly dreadful as you wallowed in your own self-pity watching your allies dwindle.  

Truly a sad sight of you sitting there in a chair, bare as the day you were born with a sticky feeling between your legs looking at a map for hours never moving in this cold room. Then you’d stand up sometimes and just look at yourself in the mirror and at the nasty scar that was forming on your calf. Sometimes you’d stare so long that you’d hallucinate your face and body beginning to morph ever so slightly into the woman you wished you were. A woman with a crown on her head in the warmth of King’s Landing, a woman who was not wasted on simply being a lady of a cold household. 

Then you’d go to sleep for a couple of hours only to restart your pitiful day all over again. 

It was unbearable some days. On those days you considered simply flying off to the warmth of Essos and never turning back or just flying to King’s Landing and burning everyone in the Red Keep. Though sometimes you’d think you would just be content with burning anything or anyone, the heat would feel nice. 

So on those days, you’d take Acrocanthosaurus and fly him high, high above the clouds, and have him breathe fire and destroy the clouds around you as you relished the feeling of fire around you. You’d pretend he was burning the grimy eyes on you, the Northern accents that grated your ears, Aegon, Aemond, Alicent, Otto, and sometimes you even thought about burning your Grandsire. 

However, as the weeks went by, those days that used to be rare were now becoming all too common. Days where you felt your blood boiling at the desperation of your situation were becoming too frequent for your own good. 

So today as you made your way out to God’s Wood for your daily ‘prayers’ for the first time since you got here, you knelt. You knelt in the God’s Wood but in front of the tree, but in front of Acrocanthosaurus, and simply held him. You felt the warmness contrast the cold of your damp clothes and slowly you began to cry, anger that made you cry, uselessness that made you cry, an emptiness that made you cry.

“There is something wrong with me.” You whispered in a broken voice as tears fell from your eyes onto his snout. “I hate feeling like this, so pathetic. I wonder if anyone else can see me for how I truly am. I had everything, the gods were generous with me but now they don’t even answer my prayers, no matter how high I fly to see them.” Your body shivered from the cold that seeped into your bones. “I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me?” You looked into the eyes of Acrocanthosaurus. “Please just tell me so maybe I can be better. I don't want to end up like my mother, fighting for people to simply accept me. I wanna be loved, I want to be supported like Aegon is, just for simply being born. I simply want to be.” 

…

It had been weeks into your marriage, Cregan had taken you several times, left his seed in you several times, left marks on your body several times, had touched you where no one else ever would, in all except one place, a place that he yearned for more than anything. 

Your lips.

Every time you’d avoid him, you’d never deny him any other part of your body, just your lips and it left him frustrated. What kind of wife does not kiss her own husband? It was all he needed from you. The very thing you denied him. Perhaps you did not feel comfortable with him? So he tried to give you gifts, they were always received and worn, but never once did you kiss him in thanks, he praised you for your work in Winterfell but never once did that ever result in a kiss, he talked to you during your shared dinner or more so his dinner as you never ate, and even then it did not make you any warmer when he took you once more. 

You were simply impossible. Never did you go out of your way to talk to him, touch him, hug him, kiss him. You were hard to talk to, only simply giving him those dismissive hums he was growing to hate. Despite the bed you both shared meant for sleep, he never really did sleep next to you. You gave him nothing on your shared nights or at any time, the only thing he could feel from you was a heartbeat.

Yet despite you only ever completing your obligation to him he never did find himself ever wanting to stop, because the only time he ever really got you to open up was when he got you undressed, and even if it wasn’t the way he wanted you to open up for him, this was still good enough, for now. 

Weeks passed and Cregan watched you, he watched you when he felt the bed shift from when you got up like you did every night after he’s marked you. He watched you sit in the same chair every night and simply stare at a map. He watched you become so lost that you never noticed that he watched you, every breath you took, every time you blinked, every time you shivered from the cold, he’d watch the tips of your breast harden then after a while soften only to harden again when you shivered as if suddenly noticing the cold again. He’d watch from the bed as you sometimes stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror, never noticing him in the same reflection as your mind drifted elsewhere. He watched you as you crawled into bed and slept beside him though the sleep never rejuvenated you. 

Cregan would always wake up as you left your shared bedroom. Cregan would always watch you, your practiced smiles to everyone, or the way you rode your dragon away from here. He always watched you, never understanding why you would not let him in. That night, that first night you told him: 

“I’d rather not share something so intimate.”

Those words haunted him, day and night. Never once did you let yourself be intimate with your husband and Cregan was starting to break. 

He didn’t know what they meant, there was no way you would have known about the kiss. There were only three witnesses and two of those witnesses had good reason to not tell and the third was a dragon who could not speak. You vexed him, vexed him, and frustrated him. You elicited reactions from him no one else has. Soon you were the only thing on his mind and it began to drive him insane. 

So he watched you and watched because it felt like that was the only way he could ever be intimate with you. Not when you were bare and your bodies connected but when he watched you.

He knows you don’t love him, not yet at least. He hopes you will, because it feels like he already loves you. You’re all he thinks about, but he can never tell you, not as you are now. It almost feels like a joke to him. One big joke, a joke he tries to gain insight into by watching you. 

Today when Cregan wakes and he looks over, he sees you, still in the bed beside him. You hadn’t woken up yet. Today he’d watch some more trying to understand. He watched your eyelashes flutter sometimes, he watched your hair become disheveled from moving, he watched your chest rise, and he watched every time you moved.

He reached over and brushed your hair back. It is shined with the light of the fire and your skin reflects the light. He was entranced watching you sleep. His hands traveled along the side of your face stopping on your lips. He touched them, and they were so soft and smooth. He pinched them softly and watched them turn a slight red and only then could he imagine how red your lips would be if you allowed him to kiss you. 

He moved closer to you, to observe every part of your face. He simply lay beside you, his hands never moving from your lips. 

Then you moved and he shut his eyes like a boy who was caught staying up late. He kept them shut pretending he was sleeping. He felt you stir more and finally he felt you take his hand in yours. He relished the feeling of your warm hands against his, though it was only to move his hand away from your lips. The he felt you stand and leave the bed. 

He opened his eyes slightly watching you get ready for the day before you walked out. Cregan quickly got up and put on simple clothes before following after you as quietly and quickly as he could. He watched you walk slowly through the walls of Winterfell as your calf held you back. He watched and followed you to God's Wood. He watched from behind a tree as you knelt, but not in front of the Weir Wood tree, but in front of your dragon, which he has told you to keep out of these woods. 

He watched you as you seemed to pray to your dragon, as you hugged him. He watched you shiver from the cold but felt the warmth your dragon exhaled. It seemed like you were saying something, but he couldn’t hear.  

He watched as your dragon then narrowed its eyes on him and for a second time stopped. He watched you turn your head slightly in his direction. He watched as you ignored him and instead grabbed onto your Dragon. 

He didn’t know why that rubbed him the wrong way.

You ignored him like you didn’t care that he was there. 

You didn’t care.

Cregan watched you fly away and you didn’t care that he was there. 

When you came back from wherever it is you went today, he didn’t greet you like he usually did. 

You didn’t care.

He didn’t talk to you during dinner.

You didn’t care.

He didn’t take you that night.

You didn’t care

For days he did this hoping you would do something, pleading that you would show him something, anything!

You didn’t care for it or his act. 

He did his best to ignore you, though he didn’t last long. How could he? When the Maester had just given him such great news. You were with a child, his first child with you. Something only you could give him, so how could he ignore his wife?  Damn the Wall and damn the South, all he could think of was his wife. 

However, the way things are would not do for him and the future child born between the both of you. There had to be something he could do to remedy this. He will be the first to admit that the game he is playing with you is childish. But he can’t help himself. He feels like a spoiled child crying and whining to get what he wants. He hasn’t acted like this since he was a child, yet this is what you have reduced him to, a little boy playing silly games vying for your attention hoping you’ll notice him and notice how desperate he is for you. 

Another gift perhaps? Surely it would be better than starving himself of you. 

You seemed to express a want for Arra Norrey to raise your children. He’d rather her far away from you, but if it is what you wanted, who was he to deny you that? 

Pulling out fresh ink and the seal of the Starks, he wrote to House Norrey. 

…

As you cried on Acrocanthosaurus, he breathed out steam that warmed your body. You looked into his eyes and saw them looking behind you. You looked over your shoulder and saw no one, however, it was clear someone was there watching you. Acrocanthosaurus reached his claw to you and you climbed onto it as he lifted you to your saddle. Not bothering to look deeper into who was hiding, you set off into the skies, hoping that maybe if you pray up there, the gods will hear you this time. Perhaps you’ll even fly to Old Valyria if you become desperate enough. 

Acrocanthosaurus flew and flew higher and you laid back on him. 

You sighed looking up. “It doesn't change anything. Nothing changes no matter how high I fly.  The Gods will never hear my prayers. I've lost everything. No matter how many times I pray, no matter how many times I plead, it's never coming back, Acrocanthosaurus.” 

You lift your hands to look at the simple clothes you have on. “And I’ve done this for what? For a man whose alliance was already secured? For a man who so clearly does not want me!? For a man who only seems to see me as what the world does already, a womb and nothing more?”

You crawled forward onto Acrocanthosaurus's neck as you held on tight. “Can't I just be loved? Be loved by the realm as they seem to love Aegon? Be loved…” Your voice lowered as you held onto Acrocanthosaurus trying to crawl forward as he made noises.

 “By my husband? Maybe if I had been born of love…” You trail as you finally reach the head of Acrocanthosaurus looking into his green eyes watching you as he flies. 

“You love me, don’t you Acrocanthosaurus?” You heard him make a deep rumble that you felt vibrate your body before he swung you high in the air. You screamed as he caught you with his snout. You sat as he continued flying and you hugged his face, holding on breathing fast.

“I hope that was a yes.” You breathed out as you held onto him. “Yeah, just you and me…forever. Maybe we could stay alone, just me and you, together.” You rested your head against his. 

You felt the rumble of his roar in the depths of your bones. “Yes, and while we're at it, burn the whore’s house down.”

…

After hours of riding and deciding against the idea of burning down the Norrey House, you flew back to Winterfell to a strangely quiet husband. He did not greet you, nor did he talk to you during his dinner, or even take you that night. Though it was all the same to you, one less person to talk to. 

It was all the same to you until it wasn’t. When you saw the coat of arms that held six green thistles crossing through the gates of Winterfell. For days Cregan hadn’t spoken to you, nor marked you. It wasn’t you missed it but he was still your husband, and the nerve of him to invite her to Winterfell. For what!?

Walking as fast as you could with an occasional limp and burst through his door interrupting his study. You saw him lift a brow and you swore you could see the smallest smile. 

“My lord.” You gritted out. “Why was I not told of the Norreys visit?”  He sat in all his glory, the gray stone walls surrounding him, his fur pelt, and the chair of Winterfell. He sat there with what you swore was a smirk and it aggravated you. 

“It’s not a visit.” He spoke as if it was the most normal thing. There were very few things that got under your skin and even fewer people who managed to bring out a resentful side of you. Yet this man here did it all without even trying!? 

Cregan Stark; the bane of your existence.

You spoke trying your best to hide your annoyance. “No? Then why are they here?”

“It is only one person. Arra Norrey.” He responded cooly watching you with eyes that seemed to drink up every expression you gave. 

“Why?” You walked forward looking at him leaning forward with your hands on the desk. 

“On the day of our wedding, you had told Arra Norrey you wished for her help to raise our children.” As Cregan spoke you felt your patience thinning.

“And?” Of course, the Northern brute did not register sarcasm, damn all these Northers who you swear will turn your white hair gray. 

You watched as Creagn stood and walked behind you taking you in his arms as you felt him inhale your scent. You watched as his hands intertwined with yours and finally had them settled on your belly. 

“Now that you are carrying our first child, heir to Winterfell, I figured you’d want her here.” As you listened to Cregan speak you felt your heart drop. Suddenly the feeling of his hands rubbing your stomach felt confining. The heir of Winterfell he called it. You felt as if he had just stabbed you through the heart. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It hurt to know that you were his excuse for bringing back his whore to Winterfell, and while you labored to grow this child, his heir as he called it. Cregan would be off fathering bastards, like his father did.

You knew the men of the realm did not see value in women, but it hurt a little more to know you had married one of them. A tie to your name and to your blood. 

“The Maester told me the news a couple of days ago-” You stepped out of his grasp, cutting him off. You took a second to recompose yourself. You turned and faced Cregan and smiled. 

“I was not aware of the news. Such grand news. However, I must make haste to prepare for Lady Norrey’s arrival.” You spoke in the calmest tone you could muster before dismissing yourself leaving Cregan in the dull, gray, cold room. 

…

The last thing Cregan wanted to do was to greet Arra. After what had happened between them, he never wanted to see her again. Guilt always pooled in him when he saw her. The day you became his wife, the day he was unable to take his eyes from you was the day he decided that what happened under the Weirwood tree was the biggest mistake of his life. 

Arra did not make him yearn. Not even after he kissed her, he did not yearn for more. He did not spend that night thinking of her. The night and days after his wedding only consisted of thoughts of you. In fact, in these past few weeks, the only time she has ever crossed her mind was when he thought that perhaps he should confess his mistake to you. Arra Norrey was only ever was brought up in his mind as a negative thought and in correlation to you. 

Arra Norrey in Cregan’s mind, never stood alone. 

Despite this, he put on his best face and gave a greeting that reflected his position, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. 

He watched as the Norrey guards held out their hands for Lady Arra. She walked with a big smile on her face as she greeted him first then you. As they welcomed her inside, she would not stop singing praises for Winterfell and how wonderful it felt to be invited back, this time as a lady-in-waiting for the Lady of Winterfell. Cregan watched for a reaction, a sign to assure him that he had done well. 

You gave him none. In fact, you seemed the opposite of pleased, you had recently gone on dragon back and had only come back an hour ago. Perhaps….the feast thrown in your honor would please you. 

Cregan felt nervous at your lack of enthusiasm. You were the one who wanted Lady Arra, were you not?

He would try once more to please the soon-to-be mother of his child in the coming days, try and have you lighten up as he prepared to share the news of your pregnancy.  

However, over those days, every time he stepped into your presence for something even as minuscule as holding his hand to your stomach, Arra would be there to ruin the moment. Never could he get you alone, and even then when he seemed to enter the same room as you, he felt Arra’s eyes on him. He had been the one to send the letter requesting her presence, but he did not invite the looks she would give him. Longing looks. Looks he did his best to ignore. Worst yet, you seemed to broil in anger every day since Arra’s arrival. 

Every day you would disappear for hours at a time leaving Arra with his half-sister Sara and consequently in his presence for all those hours you were gone for. Cregan found himself frustrated with your behavior and frustrated because he did not want to face Arra and what he had done on the day of your marriage. 

You were the one who held his hand so eagerly when speaking to Lady Arra about your shared children. How excited you had seemed, but now you detest being around him. Before, at the very least, you would give him dismissive hums, but now all you responded with was your eyes and the movement of your eyebrows, the rest of your face always set in a permanent scowl. 

He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He is trying, he really is. Trying to meet your every need and every want any lady could ever want. 

Sighing he pushed back his hair from his face as the background noise finally set. You had left once more early in the morning despite the Maesters advising you not to, leaving him alone with Sara and Lady Arra as they spoke of the upcoming banquet today in your honor.

Cregan figured that if he could not please you or Lady Arra, then perhaps Sara could, her talkative nature made it easy to become friends with. 

“Lady Arra, could you give my sister and I a moment alone?” Cregan spoke without looking up. He often tried to not look towards Lady Arra. 

He heard her obliged and stepped out. 

“Brother?” Sara spoke as she sat in front of him. He lifted his head showing his defeated expression.

“What do you know of my lady wife Sara?” He asked her with a sigh.

“Not much brother, on the day before your wedding I attempted to talk to her, though she seemed in a sour mood only giving me a smile before she left,” Sara spoke as she observed her brother. You had given him such a hard time, though Sara had seen your duties, you had even gone so far as to take what she usually did, giving her the excuse that you did more as Crown Princess and the work in Winterfell paled in comparison.

“Yes, she and her brother, Prince Jacaerys, were at odds that night.” Cregan rationalized.  

“In her days in Winterfell, I have not gotten the chance to speak to her much other than the greeting which she returned. The lady has such structured days that it is hard to find a time when she is not working on something. I believe the only time she spares is for you, Cregan.” Sara offered with a smile. 

Cregan nodded. “She does not seem fond of Lady Arra, though she had-” 

“I would not be fond of the company of Lady Arra if I was your lady wife either,” Sara said, cutting Cregan off. 

Cregan looked at her eyes slightly wide as his palms felt clammy. “Why?”

“Well if my lord husband invited the woman who he was supposed to marry and his childhood friend to be my lady-in-waiting, I would not be pleased either. Why would you even want to invite Lady Arra back to court?” Sara looked at her brother incredulously. 

Cregan felt a little sigh of relief, glad his sister did not know of what happened between Lady Arra and him under the Weirwood tree. However, this information should be unknown to you, how could you have come to find out? “Lady Arra and I were not promised to each other, my wife should not know of that.”

“Well, brother I may have…told her?” Sara mumbled as she watched her brother give her a bewildered look. 

“I did not expect you to invite her back to Winterfell!” Sara defended herself against the incredulous looks her brother threw at her. 

Sighing, Cregan rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Today, during the banquet, you will keep my wife company and try to remedy this…misunderstanding. She needs a friend here that is not someone who was supposed to marry me.”

“Are you asking me to put in a good word you brother?” Sara gave a small teasing smile at her brooding brother. 

“No. I am asking you to fix this. My lady wife seems to always be upset these days.” Cregan spoke as he looked towards the window. Your dragon seemed to return, going back to land in God's wood. 

“How do you know? She seems as she always is. She is silent and does her duties. She still goes to greet the commons of Winterfell. She is doing well brother.” Sara reaches over for her brother’s hand as she looks outside to see your dragon give a loud roar before disappearing out of sight as it lands. 

“She only ever goes riding when she is particularly upset or displeased with something,” Cregan says, giving his sister’s hand a final squeeze before retracting her own hand. “She is pregnant now, Sara. The Maester says such harsh movement such as dragon riding is not good. Sara, she is angry all the time, I can see it every day on her face.”

“She is the blood of the dragon Cregan, of course, her blood runs hot and consequently; her temper. However, she is not in her home, her home is in the South, you know as well as I do, that the North is not welcoming to outsiders, especially Southerners from King’s Landing. It is only natural that she should find comfort in her beast. ” Sara reasons Cregan. 

She watched Cregan give an exasperated sigh. “Fret not brother, tonight, I will be her friend and give a good word.” Sara smiled before excusing herself. 

Cregan watched his sister leave before standing up himself to go to the God’s Wood. Ever since the wedding Cregan has avoided going due to the dragon that now resided there, and the guilt that would build up in him as he looked at the Weir Wood tree. However, if he decided that if he truly wanted this to work, he would not be bullied out of the place his ancestors had been going to for solace by a dragon or guilt. 

Getting closer to God's wood, it felt warmer than the rest of Winterfell. He felt nervous, yes he is Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, but that does change that a dragon is a dragon. Dragons do not care for names or titles, only for blood, Valyrian blood, blood he does not possess. Despite this, he pushed forward into the new warmth of the woods. As he walked deeper he saw the growth of flowers he had never seen before. The more small life grew, the closer he went to the Weir Wood tree. Eventually, it was so warm he took off his coat and sat down on the bench near the Weir Wood.

This had been the place where he kissed a woman who was not his wife, in front of the ever-gazing eyes of the Weir Wood tree. Looking into the black water, which was so black it could work as a mirror. While looking into the black mirror he saw a figure moving across the pond. 

A large head reflected and Cregan simply looked at the creature through the water. The head was long, low, and narrow. Its eyes are big and green with black slits for pupils. The outside of its upper jaw up to its nasal bone looked rough and textured. Long, low ridges arose from the nasal bones, running along each side of the snout from the nostril back to the eye, where they continued onto the tear duct bone. As Cregan kept looking at the large dragon through the reflection, the dragon looked towards him. It did not bear its teeth but yet Cregan counted nineteen curved serrated teeth protruding from its mouth.  

From the pond Cregan watched it stand taller showing off its stocky body covered in scaly skin. It stretched itself seemingly intent on going towards Cregan now baring its teeth. Cregan looked up from the pond standing from the bench ready to back away if need be. Though despite the fact he had just spent the last couple of minutes looking at the dragon he never noticed you standing next to your dragon. 

It wasn’t until you stood in front of it stopping it from crossing the pond. He watched as your dragon nuzzled against you, more specifically towards your belly, blowing smoke, and even from the distance Cregan could feel the heat. It was hot, scalding hot, and he began to sweat. 

He began to worry that perhaps it may be too much heat for the child you carried, however, before he could say anything he was blinded by the large puff of smoke your dragon exhaled. His eyes burned from the heat and it wasn’t long before his skin felt like it was boiling. 

It hurt and he could hardly breathe, he panicked, but not for himself, but for you. What about you? What about the child in your womb? He found himself trying to yell your name, coughing with each breath he took. He yelled, coughed, and tried to find his way to you through the smoke. As he coughed he nearly fell tripping over a protruding root from the ground. Though suddenly with a large gust of wind, the smoke fell away leaving Cregan alone. You were nowhere in sight and your dragon was lying down ignoring his existence. 

Cregan stood up straight and wiped the tears away that had gathered from the smoke. 

“Cregan!” He heard a voice shout. Turning he saw Arra walking towards him. She was the last person he wanted to be seen with. Not with your dragon now opening an eye and looking at them both, where weeks ago he had committed an act that should never be repeated. He doubted whatever you had told your dragon would keep him at bay should Arra attempt to bring up what happened that day, or if she did anything he reckoned. 

“Lady Arra.” He spoke in a monotone voice. 

“Are you alright? I saw all the smoke and your shouts for the Lady, I rushed over as fast as I could.” Arra spoke as she came closer to him, seemingly trying to wipe soot away from his face. 

Cregan backed away, keeping a distance from her. He watched her face become confused before quickly giving a respectful smile. 

“I am alright, I was simply looking for my lady wife, have you seen her?” 

Arra nodded and stated that she had only recently entered your chambers to prepare for a bath. Content with the answer he left, hoping Arra wouldn’t be foolish enough to remain in the God’s Wood alone with your dragon. 

…

“The dragon’s blood runs hot maester. I assure you I will not burn if you increase the temperature.” You spoke feeling the water which was lukewarm. 

The Maester spoke to you trying to reason.“You may not burn my lady, but the child you bear has Northern blood-” 

That title, ‘my lady,’ it irked you. Something that came along with this cold place, something you were not used to when all your life you had been called ‘your grace,’ it was your proper title and to have someone speak to you in such a manner, it irritated you. You were still a Targaryen, you did not take the Stark name, a noble woman never take her husband’s name. Especially not a royal one who was set to inherit the Iron Throne. You were born a Targaryen and would remain one for the rest of your life. Your mother was born a Targaryen and even when she married your father, Laenor Velaryon, she remained a Targaryen, when she bore you, you took your mother’s name, Targaryen. The child you had growing inside you would also bear the name Targaryen, by right, your child was a Targaryen.

“The dragon’s blood runs strong within me, and it will run strong in my child. I am a cold maester, I have been cold for weeks. Can I not have one hot bath?” You countered cutting him off. Winterfell rarely saw the sun and you could not enjoy the warm rays of sunlight you had in King’s Landing or on Dragon Stone. The only warmth you ever found was near Acrocanthosaurus or hot baths.

“When you are not with child my lady, you may have the water as scalding as you’d like, however, until then, this is the warmest I will allow.” You felt the slightest twitch at the title as the Maester finished. He seemed determined to not let you have your bath. So finally, desperate for some alone time, you agreed and dismissed everyone.

As you disrobed and slipped into the bath, you relished in the slight warmth it provided. It felt good to rid yourself of the scent of dragon. You loved Acrocanthosaurus, you really did, but it didn’t change the fact that dragons didn’t exactly smell the best. 

You cannot say how long you remained in the bath as every part of your being soaked in the scented oils of the bath, your ears plugged from having half of your head submerged, your hair stuck to your forehead and your hand subconsciously resting atop your stomach which now protrude outward ever so slightly. While you were born and given the name Targaryen, as was agreed upon when your mother married your father, it seemed that your father still resonated with you heavily. You always love baths and the weight the water takes from you. Weightless, a feeling that only the seas and skies can give you.

However, the peace broke when you heard someone enter. Giving out a deep sigh of annoyance you rose from the water and you felt warm water fall out from your ears as you watched Lady Arra lay out the dress on the bed. It was the dull colors of the North. You had just about enough of all these dull colors. You wanted vibrant colors for your house, bright crimson colors or deep azures from House Velaryon. 

“Take it away.” You spoke as you sat properly in the bath and drops of water cascaded over you. 

“My lady, this is traditional wear of the North and it is in honor of the next heir of Winterfell…” Lady Arra spoke as you pulled up the dress trying to show off the minimalistic design. As you listened to her, you lifted a brow at the title. The assumption of your child being heir of Winterfell and not heir of the Iron Throne grated you. 

“I don’t care. Take it away and bring me….” You told her to roll your eyes again. “One of my Southern dresses, a red one, with dragons embroidered.” Your child may be fathered by a Northern brute, but you were Southern through and through, and so would your child. 

“Such tight corsets would not be good for the babe you carry, my lady. Southern dresses are also not good for the North, you will run cold.” Arra told you as she walked closer with a robe to help you get out of the bath.

There was that title again, ‘My Lady.’ A title that insulted you. You felt your annoyance grow every time Arra spoke to you.

“I am the dragon’s daughter, my blood runs hot. Now fetch me the dress.” You spoke with an absolute tone. They would not claim your child as a Stark, you will show your alliance with your name. Your child would be Targaryen, as were you. The throne will always belong to a Targaryen.

“My lady I don’t think that would-” 

“Nobody cares…what you think.” You cut Arra off as you stood in all your glory, steam radiating off of your body as you stepped out of the tub and standing in front of her, your eyes met her plain ones You took the robe from her and put it on before looking her up and down unamused. “So bring me my red dress with dragons embroidered.” You spoke in a slow tone as if trying to dumb it down for her. 

You watched her look down before nodding and excusing herself.

…

As you walked into the great hall of Winterfell, you felt all their eyes on you. Your deep crimson dress contrasted the dull grays and blacks of everyone else and your elaborate Southern hair-do stood out from the boring plain ones that Northern ladies wore. 

You were made for the limelight, born for others to look to, born to rule. That was your purpose, a heavy one to carry. 

As you sat next to Cregan, you nodded allowing the feast to begin. From the table you watched everyone scarf down the food and you felt your eyebrows crease in disgust. You felt sick when your own food was placed in front of you. The white meat was glistening under the candlelight and the smell wafting in your nose nearly made you lose your lunch. As you pushed the plate away you drank water, content with only that. You rested back drinking while looking upon the people of the North. The Northerners who thought you were bearing their heir. This was your child, your heir, not theirs, not anyone but yours. 

Just like that, you found yourself standing with your chalice lifted in the air giving a forced smile. You waited until it was silent and everyone watched you, the candlelight casting a dark shadow over you. 

“I’d like to make a toast, as the newest Lady of Winterfell and the alliance this marriage between my lord husband, Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, and I, your Crown Princess.” You smiled as you reminded them of your position. “We hold this banquet in honor of the babe Cregan has gifted me.” You looked down at Cregan with the softest smile you could conjure, though it was an empty one. He looked up to you and as he nodded towards you then faced his men, and you swore he sat up a little straighter. 

“Who will be born Targaryen, as I was, and will be my heir to the Iron Throne as I am to my Mother, your Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.” You felt your smile widen into a grin as you saw the people in the hall make the realization that you had every intention of taking the Throne, making you first and foremost, their Crown Princess and then Lady of Winterfell.

“So I toast to the future heir of the Iron Throne.” The cheer they gave was loud as they drank. You gave a small sip. “And should the Gods be generous, Cregan will give me more children who will then bear the name Stark.” With a promise that the Stark name would live, the cheers increased in volume, though the only person you looked at was Arra Norrey who had a neutral face on, which amongst happy flushed places, looked misplaced. She met your eyes and you greeted her with a smug smile. 

Cregan was your husband, for better or worse.

Finally sitting down keeping your eyes on her, to drive your point further, once more, as you did on your wedding day, you took Cregan’s hand and held it near your belly, which now carried your heir.  

As you sat happy, you felt the hand that held Cregan’s being lifted. You looked and watched as Cregan brought your hand to his lips and gave a long soft kiss. You looked deep into his eyes and for the first time, you realized just how gray they were. Never had you really looked towards Cregan as you did now. The forming creases on his face from stress, his long brown hair, but he was handsome, more so now as he looked up at you mumbling a “your grace” acknowledging you as his Crown Princess. 

For the first time since you had met Cregan, since you had married him, since you had been with him, a genuine smile crept on your face unwillingly, forgetting the sin he committed against you. He looked like perfection at that moment. Such gray eyes you had never seen, a sharp nose, a nicely sculpted face. If you had a son, you desperately hoped he inherited his father’s handsome and manly looks rather than the beauty Targeryens were known for. 

“More children, may the gods bless us.” He murmured against your hand which was still resting on his lips. You felt a pulse of desire hearing his Northern accent. Never had you wanted to hear the damned Northern accent more than right now. You could imagine it, hearing his rough voice and pronunciation whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he gives you another babe. The mere thought made you take a deep breath to calm yourself. You felt the warmth of his soft lips leave your hand and you felt almost deprived of his touch. His lips which you had forbidden yourself from touching. 

Why? 

At this very moment while looking at your husband who had done so much for you, giving you expensive gifts, accommodating your every want, giving you the warmest room in Winterfell, excused your leaves with Acrocanthosaurus, putting up with your attitude all without complaining, and giving you an heir for yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember why you would deny yourself such a man. 

You looked into his pretty gray eyes and then down at his perfect lips. You felt yourself lean closer into him seeking him out. For the first time in weeks, you sought him out. As you came closer and felt his breath, which smelt of sweet wine, you grew eager to taste him. Taste the flavor of the wine which was surely left on his tongue. 

Cregan reached his hand to cradle your face and you leaned into the rough calloused hand. Despite the fact that he is a Northerner who came from the cold North, you swore his hand was the warmest one you’ve ever felt. A warm hand to comfort you in the never-ending cold Winterfell seemed to produce. 

Just as your lips touched his own you turned away as someone called for your attention. As you looked up, you saw none other than your lady-in-waiting. 

Lady Arra Norrey. 

Suddenly the cold reality came crashing down on you. Your refusal to share something that should only be yours reminded you of why you treated Cregan Stark, the way you treated him. What he represented to you. The loss of your home, your throne, your place next to your mother as you both fought for your birthright. As you drew your face away from him and his warm hand you looked up towards the woman who stole what was yours. 

Your eyebrow quipped up in annoyance as you looked at her. To your side, you heard Cregan give a sigh, it appeared you weren’t the only one who didn’t want her presence anymore. You didn’t want to see her ever. She too was a constant reminder, a reminder that she ruined something for you. 

As you tuned out her little ramblings you simply looked at her to see what she had that you did not. She wasn’t prettier than you, you spoke better than her, were probably better educated than her, you had a dragon and she didn’t. Why would Cregan want her? Suddenly you felt very annoyed by her. Annoyed by her presence as you had been these last couple of days. Annoyed that she caused you to doubt yourself. Annoyed that she would forever remain a stain on your marriage. 

“My Lady, I am grateful for you and I am also thankful to Lord Stark for extending the invitation.” Arra finished as she bowed and excused herself.

My Lady. She had called you my lady again. Insult after insult she gave you. You wanted her gone. 

Permanently. 

You kept your eyes as she went to converse with other Northern ladies. Ladies you never bothered to entertain. You watched her for as long as you sat, it wasn’t until the bastard of Winterfell tore your eyes away by tapping you. You looked at her with a perplexed look. The nerve of her to touch you. You watched as she smiled at you and as she was to open her mouth to speak, you stood up and excused yourself with a flat smile before she could get a word out. You could care less about what a bastard had to say.

As you made your way through the crowd to the corner where Lady Arra and her friends talked and laughed. You approached behind Lady Arra and the other ladies around her quickly fell silent. 

“Lady Arra.” You spoke and you watched her give a small yelp. 

“Oh, my lady, I was simply speaking to them about how wonderful it is to be your lady-in-waiting.” She gave a smile. 

Once again she insulted you and you felt your eye give a small twitch. You watched her take a breath and open her mouth again to speak. Before she could you raised your hand telling her to stop. She stayed silent. Then you looked behind her at the ladies whose names you didn’t bother with giving them a lifted brow. No doubt you’d have to spell it out to them to leave you. Luckily at least one of them had common sense and left. The rest followed like sheep. 

You looked Arra up and down with disgust and annoyance present on your face.

“That day in the GodsWood. You did something you weren’t supposed to do.” You spoke with a blank smile. You watched as Arra’s face fell. “Keep your face girl.” You were reprimanded. “That day you angered the dragon, my dragon. Who nearly burned Cregan alive, because of you. What do you think will happen when I’m not there to stop him? If he was willing to burn the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell. Do you think he would think twice about burning an insignificant girl, from a minor useless house that annoys me?” 

You watched her look away from you and towards the ground before looking back up at you with pleading eyes. “My lady, I never meant to annoy anyone!”

“But you are.” You stressed anger boiling threatening to spill over and cause a scene here in the middle of a banquet. “You’re annoying me right now. Every breath you draw in my presence annoys me, everything you do within these walls annoys me, so here is what I want you to do. I want you to leave my presence. Leave Winterfell right now and go back to whatever part of the North you belong to where they use pinecones as money.” You gave her an annoyed smile struggling to keep your face neutral. 

“My lady, Lord Stark, Warden of the North has-” You cut her off having enough of being called a lady. “Your Crown Princess is telling you to leave Winterfell. Whether in a carriage or a casket, I will be merciful enough to let you have that choice.” You watched her face drop at your implication. “So…are you going to try and wake the dragon who has already decided to burn you alive for your insolence against me, or will you appeal to me? Who’s still mulling it over?” 

You smiled as she bowed, mumbling a small ‘your grace’ before leaving the banquet. A smirk grew on your face as you watched her leave. 

Content with your work and a small smile on your face you went to walk back to your seat next to Cregan and on your side, the bastard of Winterfell. Despite the clear insult, you were happy with your work today. 

“Your grace, you are the eye banquet!” A cheerful voice sang next to you and you felt your smile nearly falter. 

The bastard of Winterfell stood next to you with a wide smile. Sara Snow. The same Sara Snow who had thrown a small look towards your brother Jacaerys during your wedding. As if a bastard would ever be worthy of your brother. Your brother was recognized by the crown and was named heir to Driftmark. This bastard had nothing to her name and only lived at the mercy of her brother. 

“Well, I am a Targaryen.” You give a smile as you look at her from your peripheral not bothering to even face her as you speak. 

“I am happy that you have taken well to your duties here in Winterfell. Even more so now that you have taken mine.” She spoke with such enthusiasm it hurt to listen. However, when she hugged your arm you looked down in shock that she would dare touch you. However, you kept face and kept that same practiced smile on your face. 

“I know my brother can be difficult at times and he can make such rash actions, but he means well. He has gone through so much in his youth. You must understand. However, you should not fret sister-” The moment she said sister you turned her out. You were in utter disbelief that someone who was not your family would touch you so casually.

 A bastard nonetheless. 

A bastard who was making excuses for her brother. She was an annoyance to you. A shame and right after you had just rid yourself of one. 

Breathing in you smiled towards her facing your body slightly more to her. “Who are you?” You asked with an unfaltering smile. 

“I’m sorry for your grace?” Sara looked towards you with furrowed brows and a smile on her face.

“Who are you Cregan?” You resisted rolling your eyes at her. You stood in front of her to block her face from Cregan who you could feel staring towards you.

“His sister,” Sara spoke in low tones as her grip around your arm lessened.

“Half-sister no? You have a different mother, yes?” You corrected her. She needed to learn her place. A bastard had no place talking to you or even a seat at the main table.

“Yes,” Sara spoke in even lower tones as she stared down in shame, feeling your burning eyes and unforgiving smile on her.

“Did the late Lord Stark remarry after Cregan’s mother?” You feigned confusion as tilted your head to the side slightly.

“No…” This she whispered out as you felt her hands start shaking a bit. 

“So that makes you what?” You lowered your face to her level as you leaned in with a mocking smile and fraudulent innocence. 

“A…” She couldn’t even say it as you saw tears on her waterline. It pleased you to know that you were the one to properly educate her on the place of bastards in society. 

“Bastard.” You finished for her as you lifted your hand which she had cupped in both of hers. “Even a common true-born is higher than a bastard.” You kept your smile as you peeled her hands off of yours. Finally, as her arms dropped and you forced her to look you in the eye your smile dropped revealing an unamused disgusted face.  “You ever presume to touch me or call me sister again, I will have Acrocanthosaurus burn your already average-looking face off. Nobody wants to marry a bastard, much less an ugly one.” 

You watched her give you an incredulous look. “And don’t ever make excuses for your brother in my presence again, do you hear me?” A futile effort on Cregan’s part to justify what he did on your wedding day. Your face twitched slightly as you watched her nod. Deciding you’ve had enough, you gave a flat smile and turned away from her, walking towards Cregan to inform him you were retiring for the night. 

…

Cregan watched you walk away. The Southern crimson dress contrasted the dark walls of the Great Hall and the clothes of everyone else. The Southern up-do of your hair, elaborate with jewels, twists, and braids. Gold dripped from your fingers and your neck. You were regal, and it was all he could bother to pay attention to, even if his sister came back with a solemn face and Arra had left after you’d finished talking to her. 

You had made a promise to him. More heirs, made by you and him. It was all his mind focused and soon his pants felt tight on him. He watched you until the doors of the Great Hall finally closed, your figure leaving his sight. He replayed the memory over and over in his head. His lips are on the back of your hand. Your eyes looking into his and a small smile on your lips. Lips that he was so close to kissing tonight. His hands are on your face tonight, when before, he was only able to touch you when you slept. The weight you pressed on his hand when you leaned into him. Everything about it was perfect. You were perfect, and tonight he was so close to tasting it. 

However, it is ruined when Lady Arra interrupts. A shame, though he supposes he could ease you tonight, as you seemed in a rather generous mood. To carefully undo the laces that held your Southern dress together, he’d hate to ruin such a dress that looked so pretty on you. The golds around your neck and on your fingers. It all served as a stark reminder of where you were from, and where he is from. Polar opposites. However, opposites attract, don’t they? 

The feeling in between his legs was beginning to hurt. So while he would normally ask his sister what was wrong with her, his mind was only clouded with one thing. 

You. 

So ignoring his sister, he stood and left the banquet, chasing after you.

When he entered you chambers he found you bent over placing your golden jewelry in a chest. 

He loved Southern dresses.

He raked the room finding it filled with your Southern ladies-in-waiting, and luckily for him, no Arra Norrey. 

With a look, the ladies bowed and left. He watched you look at him over your shoulder and he heard a sigh. 

Seems he would have to ease you just a little back into the woman he had in his hands hours before. Walking behind you he hugged you, praising himself. Northern dresses tended to be thick, better for insolation and keeping the women warm. These Southern dresses were thinner, let him feel you. Cregan would make sure to have more Southern dresses made for you. 

Inhaling your scent he pressed soft kisses against your exposed shoulder and like always you gave him better access to your neck. His hands traveled up your front side against the hard corset you wore until one of his hands cradled your face and the other lay on your stomach. He tilted your face towards him intent on finally claiming your lips after weeks of agony. 

As he went to kiss you, he felt your head tilt down and he instead made contact with your forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes in annoyance. 

“I am already with child Cregan.” You spoke in low tones as he rubbed your belly though he could only feel the hardness of the corset.  

He let your face go and buried his face in your neck. 

“Why do you deny me my wife?” He mumbled against you. He felt you shudder under him. Then he felt your finger massaging his scalp and you rested your head on his. 

“Why don’t you understand?” Cregan heard you mumble and he lifted his head looking towards you. You looked at him with unmoving eyes, a tired look on your face. 

“What is there to understand? Every night you deny me.” Cregan walked in front of you cupping your face with both hands looking down at you. “I have played your game, wife, what more can I give you?”  

“What game Cregan?” You lifted your hands holding onto his wrist, perplexed by his answer.

“I have tried to give you everything! I have respected your space, I have tried to understand you, and I have done more than what anyone else would do in my position!” His grip hardened on the sides of your face as he looked trying to decipher you. 

“It is truly a shame, I thought you were an honest man.” You pulled your face away from his hand as you pushed him away, narrowing your eyes at him. “You don’t think I know of your whore!?”

“What whore? I have been faithful to you, I have never needed anyone but you.” There was no way you would’ve known about the kiss, and in any case, you were not married to him yet. Though Cregan knew they were excuses. To kiss someone under a weird wood tree. Any Stark knows that only oaths are sworn under that tree.

“What happened that day? The day where you were nearly burned?” You finally asked him, your patience had run out. You watched him as he avoided your eyes and stayed silent. 

You scoffed and an unbelieving smile on your face. “You cannot even face yourself! I would’ve never thought it of you. You didn’t seem the lying kind, had it not been for my dragon, I would’ve been none the wiser.” You shouted at him while he stood in silence. You walked closer to him, your eyes narrowed in anger and betrayal. “And you never would’ve told me. You’d be happily prancing around with her, behind my back whilst I labor?” 

“Fine! Yes, I kissed her-” Cregan admitted, but never did he ever think of taking her as a mistress. 

“At the very place where you and I wed!” You cut him off. You didn’t know what to name this feeling. It was humiliation and something else. Something for which you did not know the words for, and it caused you to doubt yourself. What did she have that you did not? 

“It was a mistake, one I will spend the rest of my days atoning for it! I do not care for her!” Cregan spoke desperately trying to make you understand that Arra means nothing to him.

“And this!” You made a gesture towards yourself and him. “What a waste! This is such a waste!” Your hands covered your face as if trying to hide you from the ridiculousness of it all. “This marriage could’ve been so much more! If you had just- IF YOU HAD JUST THOUGHT WITH WHAT IS IN BETWEEN YOUR EARS AND NOT WHAT'S IN BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!” You screamed at him, it was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him. Raise your voice at anyone in Winterfell. 

“It was a mistake and I am sorry, truly!” He gripped onto you trying to keep you still as he reasoned with you. “You are the only woman in my life! Never once did I ever think of Arra once you and I married. Not another woman has held me as you have! I do not ask for your forgiveness, not yet, but I ask for understanding. I ask that you know that you are the only woman I will ever love, the only woman I will ever give children to. You are the mother of my children. You are all that matters to me!” He held your face and you tore away from him

“You have disrespected me, Cregan! Humiliated me in front of someone who doesn’t compare to me in any way. Yet you…” You breathed before looking at him with an accusatory look.

“You made me doubt my worth.” You spoke in low tones as if confirming it to yourself. 

“Do you know how much I was worth before I married you?” Your voice rose as you pointed to yourself. “I secured crucial alliances all with the possibility of my hand! Not even a promise, but just a possibility that my blood, the blood of the dragon, would flow through their family line!”

Cregan watched you and though you yelled at him, he felt pity for you. All you saw yourself, all your worth was from your name. From what you stood to inherit.  

“I am worth a thousand of your men and twice as many noblewomen because of my blood! There is not a power that can hope to stand against the House of the Dragon if it were united!” You yelled your chest oscillating as you attempted to catch your breath. Your hair was loose as golden trinkets fell on the floor. 

Looking at the gold that fell, you pulled out another piece and threw it at Cregan who had just been standing there, giving you this…a look you couldn’t describe but it irked you.“Do you see this gold? All of it means nothing when compared to me! Others wear gold to elevate themselves in the eyes of others. When I have gold, the gold wears me. I elevate anything I touch and you make me doubt myself! And for what? A lady of a lower house!? Nearly common!?” You yelled. That woman was nothing to you, yet he saw fit to degrade you to her level. It was unthinkable. You were heir to the Iron Throne, the blood of the Dragon. You would always be worth more than anyone else. 

You watched as Cregan stepped closer, and as he did you stepped back. For every step you took backward, he took one forward. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for this man. Someone who did not see your worth. Someone who had you questioning everything about yourself. Suddenly your back hit the warm rock. You had never noticed the walls being warm. They always seemed so cold to you. 

Cregan’s warm rough hands cradled your face once more. You tried to move but his grip was firm. He had never used this force with you, always letting you tear yourself away from him, but now, you were caught between a wall and him. 

“Let me go.” You hissed out looking away from him. 

“That is not what you are worth to me,” Cregan spoke in a low voice. 

Your eyes turned to look at him with confusion. “What?” It was a small whisper that came out a bit muffled with his hands on your face. 

“The blood of the dragon means nothing to me. I did not agree to marry you for the blood you carry.” He spoke as he watched your face morph into a puzzled look then into a defensive one. Your hands came to hold his own while they held your face. “You are to be the mother of my children. You simply are yourself to me. That in itself is worthy enough. Your blood was not the one that captured me when you first kissed me, even if it was not where I wanted you to kiss me.”

You felt disappointment pool in your stomach as he spoke. “I only matter because I will be the mother of your children!?” 

Cregan sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek. “You matter to me because you are my wife. If you were not, then you would matter to me because I made an oath to you. You matter to me not because of the worth you carry, but because you are mine and I am yours. There is no one else.” He rested his forehead against yours.

As you felt his skin against yours, you wanted to rip yourself away. Your entire life has been defined by one thing. Your blood. Blood of the Dragon, Blood of the Seas. It had been questioned, your worth had been brought into question. All your life had been spent telling you how important you were because you were your mother's heir. Always had to act the part, always had to look the part because your it was your blood’s worth, your worth was always called into question. For someone to tell you this, for the very man who had managed to make you feel as if you lost all your worth by marriage, for him to tell you this, it was like poison to you. No one can live with such poison. The hope that it gives you, the hope he gives you. It is a poison that anyone could become addicted to. If taken away, it would kill you. 

You shook your head refusing to accept the poison he was feeding you, but as much as you shook your head, you tilted your face upwards, closing your eyes, a yearning that should not be there. 

You felt his lips brush yours. A slight roughness to them, and before you could register, you found yourself pulling his hands away from your face desperate to kiss him.

However, he lifted his face upwards instead of kissing your forehead. 

A pang of humiliation hit you hard as you looked down. Even now he humiliated you, even as you gave in to him.

You felt his hands cradle your face again and made you look up. But your face was a shade of red that no matter how hard you tried to push down, it wouldn’t leave. This room that had once been so cold, now you felt as if it was burning your skin. 

“I swear to you, my Crown Princess. Your grace, now and forever, till the end of our days. I will always tell you the truth, truths about yourself, and truths about myself. Never will I give you a reason to doubt me. I will not let myself have you until you accept your worth to me.” Once more he leaned forward and you let yourself close your eyes not having the will to say anything back. 

You felt his soft lips against your cheek before he let you go. 

You stood there as he let you go. You kept your eyes closed as you felt the cold air hit your face when he walked behind you, his body no longer shielding you from the cold. 

You felt his hands on your hair, taking out the gold pieces and undoing your braids. Then you felt his hands undo the laces on your dress. As he took your arm pulling out from the sleeve of the dress, then doing the same to the other. Until your dress fell down leaving you bare, safe for your undergarments. 

Despite that, you felt awfully vulnerable as his hand went to take yours. You had been bare in front of him many times before, but this time, you felt like hiding away from him. Your hand went to cover your breasts as he sat down on the bed facing you. 

Cregan took your hand and pulled you to him. You fell onto his lap as he laid back. You hid yourself in him. He fixed himself on the bed bringing you with him as you stayed hiding within his chest. You both stayed like that. His hands wrapped around you holding close to him as his fingers traced symbols on your back, and you relished the safety of being able to hide away and the warmth he provided. In the same room where the cold had been unbearable, you now took cover from it using your husband.

…

You cried out shaking your head begging. “I can’t, I can’t! Make it stop! Please! Please make it stop, I can’t, I can’t!”

“You must push!” The Master spoke as the wet nurse cleaned the sweat from your brow. 

“No! No! No, I can’t!” You cried as you felt the excruciating pain between your legs. The child refused to come out, and you couldn’t anymore. It was too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” It was all you could say and only stopped to gasp for air. 

“It’s too much, it hurts, it hurts. Please just make it stop” You continued to cry. 

Cregan stood by you watching as you struggled. He watched the Maester stand as Cregan followed.

“Help her.” It was a command. Cregan had watched you struggle for hours, but the child simply wouldn’t come. The Maester looked at him with a helpless look as your cries continued in the background. 

“I do not think the child will live like my lord.” The Maester spoke. 

“Will my wife?” A child, they could make another, but you? After these past months, everything he’s built with you? There was nothing that could replace you. 

“Possibly, at the expense of the child my lord.” The Maester spoke with such carefulness. “We can extract the child and it will live…however it would cut into the mother’s womb directly-”

“No, save my wife.” Cregan rejected the idea immediately. There would be too much blood loss, he would lose you and that wasn’t an option for him.

“If the child does not live, there is a possibility that she will become infertile.” The Maester tried once more. “Save. My. Wife.” Was all Cregan said before returning to your side as you cried. 

“They're going to take out the baby, it’ll be over soon.” Cregan watched you nod as tears spilled from your eyes. 

He watched the Maester as you gave one final push.

“The child! It was crowned! Push once more! Once more, the child will be out!” The Maester urged and gave it all you had, you pushed and you heard a cry. 

Cregan furrowed his brows. The Maester had said only one of you would live. Cregan stood up leaving you to carry your newborn. 

“What did you do?” Cregan asked in a low tone, narrowing his brow at the Maester. “I did nothing, I swear it. It was your wife. She persevered.” The Maester assured him.

Cregan looked back at you, a gleam of sweat on your face as you held your child. White hair on the top of its head. 

“A boy your grace.” The wet nurse smiled. You looked towards Cregan and gave him a smile and he returned it. 

Cregan walked to you and kissed your forehead as he looked down at his son, your heir. “He looks like you.” 

“A shame, I wished he took after his father.” Cregan gave another smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“Hold him.” You told him as you handed him off to your husband smiling, feeling the warmth radiating off your husband. Though you think the window is left open, because even as you felt Cregan’s warmth, the cold air seemed to overwhelm it. You shivered a bit as you looked towards your child and Cregan. 

“A Valyrian name. He was born Targaryen, as his mother.” Cregan leans against you, warming you. 

“Meaximus.” You whispered out smiling. “Meaximus Targaryen, my heir.”

Cregan went once more to kiss your face, but before he could process it, you moved yourself so that you would be kissing his lips. Your lips fit perfectly against his, moving in perfect motions as if this was your millionth kiss when it was your first one. The first kiss was shared with your husband. 

As you broke off the kiss to breathe, you gave him a smile. “You are my love,” You kissed him again. “My joy.” Once more you kissed him cupping his face. “You are my refuge.” Kissing him as if it were the last and he returned your eagerness. “And the truth of my life.” Once more you kissed him hoping to feel the warmth you had spent the last months basking in.

However as you kissed him, the warmth that he once filled with was overwhelmed by a cold. As you pulled away from him shivering and giving a smile you pulled the sheets up trying to keep yourself warm. You had never felt this cold, the fire in your blood, never allows you to run this cold.

But here you were, shivering. “P-perhaps they should…close the window no? It’s cold Cregan. He could catch a cold.” 

Cregan furrowed his brows. There were no windows open, in fact, this room was the warmest in all of Winterfell. He had made it so, knowing you much preferred warmth. He looked back toward the Maester whose hands were coated in blood. A slow shake of his head made Cregan shiver. He looked back at you, the flush of your face that always seemed to be there was now gone, and instead, your teeth clattered and your eyes looked tired. 

“Come!” Cregan spoke in desperation trying to keep you warm. “Just come,” You listened and cuddled close to Cregan, fingertips touching the cheek of your son who flinched away and made a face as he began to cry. 

“I’m cold Cregan.” You spoke as your hands touched his face. You were trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist. 

Cregan felt your cold hands draw him closer and once more he kissed you, but your lips were no longer warm, instead, they were cold and he felt them chapped. He leaned back. He watched you give a small smile as you began to cry. 

You looked up at him, then down to your son and as you did a lone tear escaped your eye. You didn’t want to die. Not yet, not now. Not when everything was going so well. You wanted to live, to have more children with Cregan, give him an heir. To see your son grow and you hope that he inherited his father's rugged handsomeness and not the beauty from the Targaryens. To see your little brothers meet your son. To see your mother rise to the throne and bless your son. You didn’t want to die. Not yet. However, it didn’t stop the black dots from taking your view. 

“Please…” You heard it faintly being spoken, like prayer or more so begging and you faintly registered a feeling of something on your lips. Closing your eyes you leaned into the kiss. A final kiss from your husband.

…

“He is beautiful,” Rhaenyra whispered as she looked at the boy whose beauty was unparalleled by any other child she had ever seen while tears escaped her eyes. She watched as Cregan nodded. The son between you and Cregan would be beautiful. A beauty that would transcend time and be sung about in ballads hundreds of years from now. 

Your son, your heir, your legacy. All that remained of her firstborn child. Her first and only daughter had lived with her. Try as she might, Rhaenyra could not stop the tears from falling. Her daughter, her heir, lost to childbirth as her mother was. Your dragon, Acrocanthosaurus, stood off to the side ready to burn you when commanded. Cregan had been kind enough to bring your body back to her to be burned like how all Targaryens left. 

Once more, she was made to burn her own family. As she tried to move forward, she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to burn her daughter. Not her daughter. So she stayed still watching what remained of you in his father's arms. 

“Dracarys!” Rhaenyra heard and she turned her head to find Jacaerys with that same look she once had when she had to burn her mother. Rhaenyra watched her sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey look at their sister as she burned. Little Aegon and Viserys in Daemon’s arms as he watched ahead with an unmoving face. 

Then she looked over to see your son who did not look upon your burning body but instead looked up towards Acrocanthosaurus. A wobbly smile grew on Rhaenyra’s face as she began to sob. 

The only thing that remained of you, it would only make sense if your blood once again reclaimed Acrocanthosaurus.

Notes: Jon Snow would hate to see reader coming. She does not fw these bastards 😭

Took inspo from Cerslay of Cuntly Rock (this edit pushed me to finish it)

All credit to tik toker: moonqsnat

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑