#lucerys velaryon x stark!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

controld3vil · 5 months ago

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here we stand

pairing: jacerys velaryon x mormont!reader

synopsis: news had broken out that the throne has been usurped. jacerys rides his way to winterfell, the end to the north where he meets cregan stark. and in evidently, you, lady mormont of bear island.

notes: first of all, HE LOOKS SO GOOD w/ long hair !! also this mentions the first scene in s2 ep 1, i just tweeked a few things where now jacerys receives the terrible news days after getting acquitted in at winterfell. and bc i wished for more jace & cregan interaction >:( no beta reading btw !!

Duty is sacrifice.

All know of it. It bypasses any blood or foe. To honor one's duty is to sacrifice one's possessions. And oaths can last long over through generations. It is bypassing children and their children. It is the utmost fidelity any honorable man should know. If for the Seven Kingdoms and everyone at stake at what's beyond the Wall. A barrier that towers over seven hundred feet from what lies more gruesome than death.

Your cousin, Cregan Stark took up the responsibility as Lord of Winterfell, sometime after the passing of his father, Rickon Stark. He's a noble lad, he took upon the role at the age of six and ten. He was young but quickly learned how to command and serve the people. Much like his House's words, he understood what was coming. Though unexpected news of an envoy from Dragonstone had landed him in monetary consideration. Of what's to come with his men and the upcoming raging war.

"This is only late summer snow, my prince. In winter it will cover all you see and all memories of warmth will be forgotten." The metal chamber that brings them to the top of the Wall stops and both men walk out into the cold winter bridge. It's desolate and high in altitude.

Jacaerys could only imagine what it would feel like in wintertime, where there is nothing else but ice. "It pleases me that over a century ago our ancestors were treated in this very place. The Conqueror and the King in the North." His brown hair, inches longer, flutters past the cold air. Even with his blood, the descendant of the ferocious fire-breathing creatures, his heart still churns with a chill.

"You at least had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon." The Lord of Winterfell smiles, eyeing the prince's reaction to the weather. No Southerner would know the true cold past summer.

The crowned prince returns his grin, looking out into the view beyond the Wall. From seven hundred feet above, everything, even the trees and people looked small. A wall that has been built this tall must offer security for what's beyond more terrifying than wildings and foes.

"While your men stand to protect against wildings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp my mother's throne. It is the duty of the Seven Kingdoms, and you, as Lord of Winterfell, to uphold your oaths sworn to the heir to the Iron Throne," Jacaerys gaze moves across where his eyes can take him off the Wall. It stretches out ridiculously long with men at every post. He has passed by a few to know whether or not, it was their obligation to join the Night's Watch, it was now their vow to protect this sacred place. However, he needed to remind Lord Stark of his reason for visiting. If the realm remained unbalanced, even Winterfell would not prosper.

"Starks do not forget our oaths, my prince," Cregan restates, with a look of sympathy and seriousness. "But you must know that my gaze will forever fall between the north and south. Here, in the winter, my duty to the Wall is more dire than what I ought in King's Landing. I need my men."

The prince of Dragonstone's look flickers, questionably. Until a holler from one of the watchmen signals Cregan of a visitor. He nods before glancing back at Jacaerys to dismiss him. A soft courtesy of his name before stepping down the post to greet the newcomer.

The cranks of the elevator come to a final stop. Before a pair of boots shuffle out of the old compartment to be met with the face of your cousin. Cregan's eyes meet yours in surprise and you subconsciously feel your shoulders untensed.

"Cousin,"

"Lady Mormont," He says with utmost respect as he can decipher the faint footsteps from behind Dragonstone's envoy. "What reason may you come to visit the Wall?"

"I received word that a messenger from Dragonstone came," Your bear fur coat holds you snug to protect you from the harsh winds. And your embroidered gloves, made from leather and deer fur have kept your fingers from freezing off during the trip to the edge of Winterfell. Your hands clasp together in an assertion. "Though I can already see he has arrived." Your soft stare transfigures onto Jacaerys and the sudden attention makes him slightly step aback.

Your lord gives you a playful look before turning back. "My prince, this is Lady Mormont of Bear Island. She is a close friend of mine and cousin." As embarrassed as the prince was, he could feel heat run up his spine as Jacaerys struggled to say anything welcoming.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Mormont,"

"The pleasure is mine," You blink innocently before addressing yet again your reason for presence. “Come, discuss matters over the fire,”

Eventually, a week has gone by with Jacaerys Velayron’s stay. His extended stay has left questions and concerns for the townsfolk. However, Cregan reassures them, replying to them in short curt responses. In all, he explains the prince should rest before riding back to Dragonstone as it was a few days' journey from the North. This brought no rejection from either party and allowed the two boys to catch up and take into consideration the risks.

You were always welcome at Winterfell. When you were little, your father, Lord Mormont, visited the black castle occasionally to meet with Lord Stark. The maids and servants knew you well as well as the Starks. They treated you like their own blood despite you being a distinct relative from a faraway island. Rare at times would they come to visit your home. Your homeland was not as welcoming as Winterfell some may say. Your House resided over lone shores, topped with horrific rock structures and charcoal reefs. A ruthless and barbaric landmark for the House of the Bear.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Lord Stark,” Jacaerys starts, holding his ale cup to drink as all of the other guests gather to feast for the night. The three of you alongside Cregan’s son, Rickon, were seated at the high table, enjoying the luxurious scene before you all.

Large condiments of meats, pastries, and wine for the people, nobles of the Northmen. Feasts were something that brought together everyone during harsh times. In times of violence or sorrow, it is the shared appreciation you all must endure to move forward. That is true of what the people of the North had that no other House had. The Velaryron prince gives you an appreciative smile. “And to you, Lady Mormont, I thank you for your sincere support of my mother’s claim.”

“Here we stand,” You raise your goblet, reciting your very House words. True to what it meant, your family stood prepared for what days would come to an end. You understood one day you have a place in something greater when the moment was right and here it was now, lying right in front of you. Mormonts are known to be willing to fight even when the odds are against them. So were you when you declared fealty to Cregan Stark, your dear cousin. Your loyalty towards him would only mean you would go to the ends of the Earth to fulfill your promise. “And here we fight for the queen.”

Despite not having Rhaenyra, her son knew she would be fond of you. Your attitude and strong integrity were something few held at King’s Landing. He acknowledged that people may not agree with his mother’s claim. However, there will always be those who still believe and support her. You are one of those people. Despite being hundreds of miles away from King’s Landing, Cregan and you showed fealty and loyalty to the oaths sworn nearly a decade ago. Some day, he wishes his mother would meet you.

“Of course,” Cregan begins, settling his cup down, before patting for his son to come towards him. “With the men we have, it is guaranteed they’d be ready to march the earliest as of the morrow” Rickon starts off his wooden seat and shuffles to his father’s lap. A clumsy stumble and the Lord of Winterfell picks up the child with ease with a soft smile. “From there, the men will march to King’s Landing.”

“Then I should leave by the morrow,” Rhaenyra’s son places his arms on the table.

Your heart skips a half second, knowing that the time you spent together would be short-lived eventually. The prince was sent as a messenger, nothing more. His stay was long overdue, though no word from Dragonstone has the eyes of the ravens yet. It sinks to you momentarily when you place the last piece of meat into your mouth and down the last drops of your ale.

“Yes, your visit has been short-lived,” Your cousin sighs, too aware of how the brief meeting would be over. Jacaerys was a good friend, being the same age as him, Cregan felt well acquainted with him. He had only wished that they had met under different circumstances and times. Perhaps when war wages on, they would meet again on the battlefield or after they have won against the Greens. Speculation of what was next was unknown. “But you have our support, my prince. Do not fret, we will prepare for what the Hightowers plan.”

Jacaerys nods, understandably. He turns to you who sweetly bobs your head in agreement. How delicate your features looked in the dim ambers of the Winter halls. He’s enamored by your presence with how often he gravitates towards your direction.

He had always assumed Northern women would be different from Southerners. They were different. Northerners were divine in their way. You excluded such poise and delicacy, Jacaerys sometimes couldn’t help but become curious of you. Your hobbies, what you liked to do, what was your favorite food, and your most desired ambitions. Southerners in King’s Landing were graceful and fragile like the summer breeze. However, you were like a chilly snow cast. The cold, it’s welcoming and he constantly feels chills running down his spine whenever your eyes meet.

“Now what do you think of the North?” Your lord light-heartedly brings up to lighten the mood. You and Cregan enjoyed the short mornings with the prince. The limited time you shared allowed for intimate discussions and a way to become acquainted with one another. The people, how things functioned, and how you adapted to the cold. It’s far much different than what he’s accustomed to in Dragonstone, where his home echoed through miles. Compared to the North, Winterfell was exceptionally enormous but had a sense of home and warmth.

“It’s different from Dragonstone,” The brown-haired envoy laughs, showing quite fond forever his home. “My home resides by the sea, surrounded by the high tides and rough shores. The castle is covered in obsidian stone and is known to be indestructible. My family has lived there for centuries now.”

“How fascinating,” Your cousin breathes, showing his teeth. “I’ve heard stories about Dragonstone. Some say you can find dragon eggs deep in the mountains.”

“That is true, our dragons reside in caves. They lay their eggs in crystallized magma. Our dragon masters look after the eggs and know when the time is right to harvest them.”

“What happens when a dragon egg doesn't hatch?” You lean your head forward, hands clasped together again. Learning about his family and their customs kept your interest for a long time. Not many Southern Houses come to visit from King’s Landing. They rather stay where it is warm and avoid the uncomfortable weather and travel to the North. Your eagerness was appreciated when Jacearys considered your question.

“We wouldn’t know for sure when they would or would not hatch. We simply wait it out.” He quirks a gentle smile when your gaze is sort of magnetic. It’s like you were in a trance every time he spoke of anything he was interested in.

“How long have you waited for one to hatch?” Cregan picks up his cup again to refill while his son pivots to run to the other side of the table, only to be greeted by you. With big smiles, you gladly carried the child to your side.

“A few years,” Jacearys remembers the day well. He remembers his brother Joffrey, struggling and whining to his mother about his egg. He was as young as four, however in the first three years of his life, his dragon had not hatched. It’s a mystery when the dragon decides to break out of its shell. He was fortunate with Vermax after months of being born, his companion was right beside him from the start. Lucerys had a similar reaction. Rhaenyra often told stories of many instances of good and bad hatchlings alongside their rider. Some may not have been awakened by its rider, for they might have been dead already. The unknown enigma of those ferocious beasts pales in the prince’s head.

“It must’ve been unpleasant,” You joked, hugging Rickon tightly, having his cheek meet with yours. The young boy giggles loudly, taking hold of both of your cheeks in excitement.

The atmosphere felt sublime and almost too perfect. Here in the warmth and formality of the Stark Household, everyone was lively and heeded no sorrows. How the prince wished upon the same for Dragonstone. If only the realm was brought together and the Hightowers had not usurped his mother’s throne despite her rightful claim. Would his family be united and happy finally?

He wasn’t sure as Jacaerys had never known familial love on his mother’s side. Both of his uncles vexed him, Luke and Joffrey. Helaena was kind, however, never showing malice towards him and his brothers. But the Hand of the King, and Queen Regent. Quiet in their schemes and distaste for bastards.

Affection is what fills the prince’s chest with glee. As he scans the dining room of men, women, and children, they all feast and brawl over pointless endeavors. The scent of mead and hot fresh meat fills the room with chaotic laughter and nonsensical bubbling. In another time and place, Jacaerys would have been thrilled to visit Winterfell during this time of year.

And his gaze slowly follows the wisp of your faint figure by the fireplace. With the heir of House Stark, you blow raspberry kisses against Rickon’s hot cheeks. As the boy squeals in delight, grabbing at the ends of your hair like ropes on the ship, bouncing them back and forth. You were good to Rickon, Jacaerys knows you care for the boy like it were your son. He thinks Cregan is grateful to have someone's endearment and protection toward his son. For the lack of a maternal figure had been long gone. You would be a great mother one day, he deciphers. You constantly fiddle Rickon’s hair which reminds him of his mother when he was little.

It was such a faint memory that stuck in his mind whenever he saw you with the children. Rhaenyra would question him if she were here. Mothers had a knack for spotting things such as things. The prince knew of his interest in you. However, would you do the same if he made them clear as day?

You never said anything to him. It makes him question if you were truly interested or not. You’ve shown fondness over meals and spoke of jokes whenever he came out to the stables, where his poor dragon, Vermax, gruntled in the snow.

“I’m sorry the farmers could not do much to help your dragon!” You shouted out one day in the early sunrise. He takes a few steps from his companion to find you in white fur coats and boots. You looked beautiful, the color suits you. As elegant and dainty as the pigment of his mother’s hair. Your locks were braided halfway with the rest, flowing down from your ears to your shoulders. “We don’t often have dragons visit us in the North!”

The prince laughs with small puffs of his breath becoming visible. “The stable boys did a fine job in accompanying Vermax.” At the call of his dragon’s name, it slowly hovers over his dragon rider. It purrs warmly in the frost as your eyes glower in fascination.

“He’s beautiful,” Your voice is nearly breathless at the size difference Vermax has over the buildings and people. It is a creature that comes far beyond your imagination and fairy tales. It's olive green scale prickle in delight as your eyes began to wonder back and forth. Dragons were rare in the North and it must’ve been a relentless recurrence for the people in King’s Landing.

The prince hums before kicking a chunk of frozen dirt. He makes an effort to be bold for once. “Would you like to pet him?”

You looked shook and it made him struggle to keep a composed posture. You stumble to make any words come out of your mouth. “I- May I?”

“Of course,” The dragon rider comes forward and grabs your hand, dragging himself closer to the beast. The sudden contact and closure make your heart beat faster than anticipated. As you find yourself glancing up at its reptilian eyes. In horror, you hold your ground, wanting nothing more than to back away. “It’s alright, he won’t hurt you.”

Jacery’s reassurance doesn't comfort you as you resist his grip on your wrist. Vermax merely stands, grumbling in curiosity as to your stricken presence. It’s trying to inquire about your anxiety when it was the reason for it in the first place.

Taking a short take of air, you stand in place. You did your best to calm your breathing, feeling a hand on your lower back to support you. Your dainty eyes meet the prince. And within contact, it felt as though you felt everything would be alright. His touch soothed your racing heart as you excelled forward, step by step closer to the beast. For you, it must’ve felt like the clock had slowed down when you were merely inches away from Vermax. Its enormous size was breathtaking and you could make your lungs free of oxygen again.

Yet your state of mind returns when the queen’s heir comes into view. The air felt a tension between fear and anxiety. It was both exhilarating and terrifying for someone who has never seen a dragon up close before. You took the last big step when you lifted your fingers above its nose.

Vermax shivered and at the last minute, you wanted to back out. Until Jacaerys hand envelopes over your hand to pet his companion. With such care and attentiveness, you should have realized the prince’s advances towards you by now.

The Godswood was a welcoming pastime you’ve grown to respect. With the decline in visits, you’ve come to value the historic tree for what it stood for and the ancestral value it had over your people. Cregan did not mind whenever you went away to pay your respects. He knew how important it was to you to respect the old gods and the new. War was coming. If you were going to support Rhaenyra, you only wish for your men to come out victorious.

You were no war-picking woman. But death was something you’ve come to accept recently. The passing of Rickon Stark brought a hole in your heart. You mourned in your ways, and so did Cregan when you had heard he had taken the mantle as Lord of Winterfell. He still is a young man, barely over six and ten. The best you could do was offer your presence and time. To him, being present with the people and acting lively was enough for him to regain his mind. Everyone looked up to Rickon for what he stood for and the House. There is no doubt Cregan would do the same in the coming time to King’s Landing.

“It’s saddening, isn’t it?” You breathe into the crisp air, only to feel your throat grow dry. But the person behind you knows you were referring to them. “How war affects us all.”

The prince of Dragonstone steps out from the shadows. His steps were slow and gruff, still worn out from the feast and the massive amount of ale that was offered to him. But you were the only thing that had piqued his interest. You were quiet, not expecting an answer from him. Until he stepped and stopped right beside you, shoulders nearly touching but inches apart. Your bear coat was held loosely on you as he recalled you too struggled to leave the dining table. You all drank too much tonight.

“The Godswood know of it all. They see everything,” The bear bronze sigil shines past his peripherals when he cannot meet your gaze. You were not drunk enough to do something reckless but not too sober to do anything either.

In return, all you could ever see was Jacaerys furrowed expression. He’s contemplating something. But you choose to stare and take in his features with such interest and curiosity. His soft and tranquil pout resembles much of a wolf you’ve seen. As though his curly strands, which you would imagine, are dim to the touch. The prince holds assertiveness in his duty, falling into the role of heir as for his queen. Perhaps he’s everything that his mother stood for. You admired it.

“Know you and your men's contributions would be known,” He whispers, it’s clear you could feel his breath close to your neck. The dark clouds could not even hide the indisputable truth. The crescent moon gleams somewhere in the far distance you can’t seem to find. But you know what’s true. Because moments ago, you could discern his distance inches away. Now it seems that he wants to close the gap by the second. “And that…”

“That we did our duties, nothing more.” You pant, unable to keep your eyes from moving from his gaze and lips. Strands of his dark brown hair trickle against your cheeks as you take one last glimpse at your prince. If any of this was acceptable. You wouldn’t exceed further to know he’d reject your proclaimed assumptions.

But nothing happens. It was as though the chill in the air had changed. When another figure reappears out of the shadows and into the light. Jacaerys distances himself from you. While you did your best to compose yourself for being caught red-handed by a servant boy.

“My Lady,” The innocent boy chants, as he holds up a scroll. “A message from Dragonstone.” Jacearys’s eyes shot up as you were given the letter. The moment you give the signal of approval, the servant boy leaves into the abyss and back into the cabin.

You unlatched the curly paper and patiently read its contents. The prince carefully awaits, every so longing to catch any misdemeanor you would have upon what letter had. He hopes and wishes it is good news more than anything. But you held a stone-cold expression and when you looked up at him, he could only discern sorrow with the words that come out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, my prince.”

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blakeswritingimagines · 5 months ago

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Leaving Kiss Prints On Them

Aegon: He's amused, maybe intrigued as to why you've done it in the first place. But at the same time, he would be strangely touched, flattered that you would want to leave your mark on him, to show others that you own him.

Aemond: As he looked into the mirror, the glistening traces of a deep red lipstick print stood out boldly against his pale complexion. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the mark's presence. The memory of the partner flashed through his mind, your passionate kiss leaving a lingering kiss upon his skin.

Jacaerys: "Oh, you cheeky wench", Jacaerys exclaimed, surprised by the bold display of affection from his partner. He touched the mark on his cheek, feeling the slickness of the lipstick and a smile playing on his lips. "You know you're marking your territory?", he teased. "This better wash off, or I'll be walking around with your signature smudge for days."

Lucerys: He would blush and smile genuinely, appreciating the sign of affection from you. He'd gently touch the lipstick print, feeling a sense of closeness and love. After a moment, he would take your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you close for a tender embrace.

Rhaenyra: Upon realizing the lipstick mark, she would feel a rush of warmth and affection. She'd reach up to gently touch the mark, a sly grin curling her lips in appreciation of the affectionate gesture. Her fingers might linger there for a moment, tracing the faint outline of the mark, her thoughts filled with the memory of the kiss that left it behind. "Attempting to mark your territory, huh?"

Daemon: He'd chuckle, running his hands through his hair before giving you a playful smirk. With a gentle tug, he pulled you closer until your front was flush against his, a hand moving to rest at the curve of your waist. "Leaving your mark on me again, darling?" He says, arching a brow in amusement.

Alicent: It is a pleasant surprise to find a mark of affection on her cheek, like a colorful stamp of love. She might glance into a mirror to appreciate the delicate contour and color of the imprint against her skin. A smile would likely spread across her face, touched by the thought that you took the time to leave this intimate memento as a silent declaration of tenderness. She might even feel a slight flutter of affection, feeling her cheeks warm up with a hint of bashfulness.

Helena: When you leave a lipstick print on her cheek, she feels a mix of amusement and flattery. She can't help but smile at the playful gesture, knowing that you've marked her as yours in a subtle but endearing way. The glossy imprint on her skin reminds her of your presence and the affection you have for her. As she catches a glimpse of the colored stain, it serves as a pleasant reminder of the intimate moment you shared or the playful banter you engaged in.

Harwin: He would chuckle softly as he felt the warm, familiar softness of lips against his cheek, leaving a trail of a vivid lipstick stain. The subtle scent of sweetness and roses gently drifted to his nostrils, prompting him to lift a hand and brush his fingers against the mark. A soft smile played on his lips. “You’ve left your mark, I see,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice, though the words were laced with an unmistakable fondness.

Cregan: He noticed the lipstick stain on his cheek and ran a finger over it, a sly smile spreading across his face before he turned to you, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, well, it seems someone has marked her territory." He leaned back in his chair, still smiling as he regarded you with a playful gleam in his eyes. "And here I thought I was the possessive one."

Criston: At first, a flush of embarrassment washes over his face as he becomes self-conscious of the lipstick mark. However, it quickly dissolves into a smirk at the realization that you have marked him as yours. A wave of possessiveness washes over him, and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing that everyone will know whom he belongs to. The rest of the day, he’ll find himself subconsciously rubbing his hand over the lipstick print, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

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athenasarahsstuff · 6 months ago

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Who else saw this scene rewind it a few times to make sure this was baddie Aemond Targaryen. Raise your hand!! 🙌

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winnysplayground · 4 months ago

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you WILL write house of the dragon fan fiction, you WILL write house of the dragon fan fiction

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #cregan stark x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #gwayne hightower x reader

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l-uminescent · 4 months ago

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˚⁀➷｡˚GOD OF OLD VALYRIA ━━━ DAERON TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

synopsis: cregan stark's sister (reader) is sent to king's landing in order to find a suitable marriage arrangement. after a year however, you start to lose hope at finding a betrothed. that is, until the king announces the arrival of his youngest son daeron targaryen.

notes: hello! i have yet to see many daeron one shots or fics so i’ve decided to try. and as usual, i have aged him up to about 19/20. requests are also welcome bc i’m running out of ideas 😭

warnings: don’t think there is any apart from my rusty writing bc i have not written anything in years and most likely some spelling mistakes

word count: 1.8k

BEING CREGAN STARK'S YOUNGER SISTER PROVED ITSELF TO BE BOTH A BLESSING AND A CURSE. with the death of his wife arra, and being left with a son to raise by himself cregan struggled to find the time to find a suitable suitor to have as your lord husband as you came of age. the result of this, meant you being sent off to king's landing in hopes that the queen consort, could provide help with finding you a husband. it's not like you minded being sent off to the capital, you were keen to explore the south after having lived in the north for the entirety of your life. but after being in the red keep for almost a year, you were becoming less and less confident at the queen's promise to your brother that she would find you a betrothed.

however, that was all soon to change with the arrival of daeron targaryen from oldtown.

it was his elder brother aemond, who informed you of daeron's arrival from oldtown after having been sent away years ago to squire for the hightower family. despite aemond's intimidating aura and the obvious anger he holds within, you two often found solace with each other in the library as it appeared neither of you had many friends around the castle. tucked away, reading books on the history of the north, and that of the previous targaryen kings and queens, aemond often sat near, as he too enjoyed your presence as much you he.

today, he explained that there was to be a feast held in the throne room, at daeron's arrival as he had not been in the red keep for quite some time. your presence was to be required at the feast for some reason unbeknownst to you (but not to aemond's, who was aware of his mother's plotting).

rushing back to your chambers after waving your friend goodbye and thanking him for the information he told, your stomach began to knot as the feeling of nervousness took hold. you had heard stories of the youngest targaryen, of his beauty, how his silver hair fell shorter than his brothers, barely covering his eyes. you often heard gossip that the price frequently made the girls of the realm swoon if they were to ever encounter the boy in oldtown. if the rumours that circled around the red keep were to be believed, than it was also said that daeron targaryen was the most popular of the king and queen's sons. as well as his beauty, you had heard that he was an outspoken and witty boy, a skilled swordsman and returned the kindness that was given to him.

brushing away these thoughts, you began to wash and paint you face with many creams and serums, until doting yourself as presentable to the targaryen family. you called on a maid to help you with your hair and dress. no matter the time you spent in the south, you were never one to forget your northern roots which often reflected in the clothes you wore and the hairstyle that adorned your head. black dire wolves, were subtly sewn onto your grey dress, a direct nod at your stark lineage, showing how proud you were of it and your hair was twisted and braided until it reflected that of what you so commonly wore in winterfell.

as the maid finished helping you ready, the nervous feeling once again made home in the pit of your stomach. deciding it was time to make your way to the feast, your hands found themselves fidgeting with the rings on your fingers that were lovingly gifted to you by your mother father and brother, (family heirlooms that once again showed your pride of the north) in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

you still could not fathom where this sudden wave of nervousness came from. you had met the other two targaryen boys, even the three velayrons that had moved away to dragonstone a mere week after your arrival, and this skittish demeanour was nowhere to be found back then.

taking a deep shaky breath and swallowing, willing your hands to stop fidgeting you walked through the doors to where the feast was to be held, making a beeline straight to where you usually sat. ignoring the piercing glare of a pair of indigo eyes that you were unused to, you bowed to the king and queen before taking your seat, still refusing to meet the eyes that looked upon you intently.

"it is my greatest pleasure to announce the return of my youngest son daeron" king viserys announced. even in his sickly state the pride he had for his youngest son was not mistaken, making it painstakingly obvious who the favourite child was (second to rhaeynra of course.)

as he continued, you could not help but notice the soft look alicent had gave you. you had heard the rumours of how unkind the woman was before your arrival yet, she did everything in her power to make you feel comfortable during your stay. almost as if this was her second shot at motherhood.

you did not need to wonder for long what she had meant by the look this time before viserys continued his speech. "and to announce his betrothal to the lady of house stark."

at that moment you did not care if the shock in your face was evident as your mind raced at a hundred miles an hour at the news. feeling your heart pump faster, a bright crimson appear on your cheeks as the entire table had turned to look at you. the embarrassment at the attention you faced had soon turned to rage at the thought of your brother cregan not warning you of the news to have allowed yourself to mentally prepare. you cursed your brother for that. yet it soon faded and was once again replaced with anxiety as you remembered the boy beside you was the man you were now betrothed to.

you could not help the thought of this being failing marriage, one that was doomed from the start. your northern customs differed heavily from that of the royals in the south and you were afraid that it would offend your betrothed. you barely knew the man, there was no telling that he was as kind as you had heard, for all you knew one simple argument and he could feed you to his beloved dragon tessarion.

willing yourself to calm down, you took a shaky breathe before twisting your head to the side, finally allowing yourself to look at the boy that had been the cause for your nerves the past few hours. you had to hand it to the gossips of the court, the boy was handsome. with a sharp jawline and piercing indigo eyes staring into your plain ones you felt your face heat as his eyes continued to hold yours. taking in his features you noted that his hair, fell perfectly to his eyebrows, and a small scar ran down the left side of his lip. he was absolutely mesmerising. you had always been skeptical at the idea of targaryen's being closer to gods than men, but in that moment you believed.

daeron targaryen looked as if he was a god from old, straight from valyria.

you found the knot in your stomach grow and tension find it's home in your shoulders at this revelation as you struggled for words to say to your betrothed, feeling unworthy in the presence of true targaryen beauty. your belief of the old gods wavering in favour of the valyrian ones, every time your eyes caught his.

you only prayed he was as kind as he was good looking.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

"mother, i will accompany lady stark back to her room." it wasn't until the meal had ended when you had heard his voice for the first time. if you weren't nervous before than by the gods you were now. with your heart rate elevated your fingers found the rings adorning your hands again, fiddling with them as you stood to be guided back to your chambers by the youngest prince. his voice perfectly matching the god like features of his face, melting like honey as every syllable reached you ear. you were truly enamoured with the targaryen boy.

with a bow to both the king and queen you and daeron had left, an awkward silence following as the words you wanted to say dying on your tongue every time you glanced out the corner of your eye at him. once again, blood rushed to your cheeks as the boy turned to you. "you don't have to be scared of me you know, my lady." he smirked. by the love of the gods, you prayed the answer that left your mouth did not make the embarrassment you felt worsen.

"i believe i have a right to my fear, my prince, seeing as your dragon lays only a hill away from where we stand."

at this, daeron let out a laugh, wondering where the shyness from the feast had gone. "well my lady, tessarion isn't as scary as she seems. maybe one day we shall go out riding."

"i would like that indeed my prince." you returned, smiling at the thought of him allowing you to meet his most precious creature. you had always wondered what a dragon had looked like up close, let alone to ride. the mere suggestion of it showed that maybe this marriage wasn't doomed after all. "well here is my chambers. thank you for walking me back."

the two of you turned to face each other now, allowing you to take in the entirety of his face. and by gods you were even more starstruck than before. in the torch lit corridor of the red keep, he seemed even prettier — truly a god of old valyria.

"goodnight my lady." daeron breathed out, seemingly as entranced as you were with him. the piercing indigo roaming about your entire face as he believed you would disappear if he even for a moment looks away. he had encountered many beautiful strangers in his time at oldtown, had read many history books that described creatures as beautiful as gods and angels. yet no matter how many detailed accounts he had read of valyria, how enchanting those who had lived before the doom were, and how he had inherited this fairness from his ancestors , in that moment he swore he had never met anyone as more beautiful as you. how you took pride in where you came from with the northern rings and stitching on your dress. how your hair was held with clips that were clearly heirlooms of the stark family. he was in awe.

"goodnight my prince." you whispered, pressing a small tender kiss to the side of his porcelain skin before turning to your chambers.

to daeron targaryen, you too were a god of old valyria

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wxstros · 4 months ago

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Bonds Forged in Fire

In a world where dragons did not dance and Rhaenyra reigns unchallenged on the Iron Throne, her legacy endures through her three valiant sons, with the Targaryens having bowed to their rightful queen. You, a traveller in this medieval tapestry, have at last discovered the opportune moment to seek solace in Essos, intending to live out your days unburdened and free. No longer are you compelled to mend the fragile bonds among feuding cousins, having already nurtured a brotherhood among the Velaryon and Targaryen youths. Freed from the duty of attending to Alicent, appeasing your father Daemon, or strategizing for the benefit of the realm and its beloved Rhaenyra, you stand on the cusp of true retirement... or do you?

warnings: typical targcest/inc*st. DARK CHARACTERS; controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting. cursing. reader is a modern human. dance of the dragons did not happen. canon typical violence. yandere behavior!

pairings: hotd x reader, daemon targaryen x daughter!reader (platonic)

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

Quiet and Commanding. Graceful and Bloodthirsty — you were both the calmness of the sea and it's tempest. In a desperate act of survival, you reshaped the fate of Westeros; a no ordinary feat by all means, and you bore the scars of fabricating this delicate peace.

You sought to end a war before it grew to become one. Tearing the heart of the dragon so it no longer bore heads, you suffered the consequences of your meddling, self-preserving nature, from the curse of Targaryens.

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

Paranoia is ever common among people of power, and in your whimsical rendition of the present, you found yourself ensnared in the very web you sought to untangle.

Your knowledge of the succession of events was vital in its formative years; you were the weaver of histories yet unwritten, the keeper of secrets that shaped destinies. In the quiet chambers of the Red Keep, where whispers carried more weight than steel, you stood as a sentinel of wisdom amidst the unfolding of ambition and intrigue.

Once, you navigated the tapestry of Westerosi politics with a sure hand, guiding alliances and decisions that now lay woven into the fabric of a new era. But the future you once knew, predictable as the turning of seasons, now unfolded with unpredictable swiftness.

The absence of war reshaped the contours of power, leaving uncertainties where once there were certainties... and you had become one of it's unfortunate casualties.

"If I may speak, my lady," she began, her voice a whisper that hung in the air like the fragrance of roses in bloom. You turned to face her, your expression calm yet attentive, silently inviting her to share the secrets that threaded through the underbelly of courtly life. A strategically placed informant, a madame you kept in your good graces, for her valuable informations.

With practiced ease, you gestured for her to continue as you returned to your preparations, the delicate clink of jewelry punctuating the quiet conversation between you. The madame hesitated, her words measured and cautious, betraying the weight of the information she carried.

"I've come upon certain... revelations," she finally ventured, her tone laden with the gravity of her disclosure. She recounted, with a waver in her countenance, the princes' preferences— their specific demands echoing through the chambers like whispers of scandal. Each word revealed a world hidden behind closed doors, where fantasies intertwined with the obligations of royalty and it's stifling constraints.

Your hands paused momentarily, the silver earrings poised between your fingers as you absorbed the implications of her words. You feared the unspoken consequences of such desires. One that transcended the boundaries of rank and decorum, casting shadows upon the noble facade that adorned the princes in public.

"They call for you," she had confessed in a hushed tone, her eyes troubled yet resolute. "Not just any women, but those with your likeness. They cry out your name in the throes of passion, seeking to recreate a semblance of what they know in the sanctity of their chambers."

With a nod of dismissal, the madame withdrew, leaving the chamber with a bow of deference. Alone once more, you resumed your preparations, the morning light seeming dimmer now as you contemplated the delicate balance between power and discretion within the heart of the Red Keep. Yet, the madame's parting words lingered, her voice tinged with an urgency that unsettled you.

"Forgive me, if you must call me insolent." she had said, her eyes wide with concern, "Leave this place once you get the chance. These princes... they are not what they seem. Their love is a dangerous thing."

The weight of her warning wasn't missed, nor unrewarded. Leave, she said. And you almost wept at your desire to do so. The thought of escape had always been present, but now it seemed more pressing, more necessary.

The Targaryen madness... a curse that had plagued their bloodline for generations, was not a mere myth. It was a living, breathing beast that lurked within the halls of the keep, a beast that had ensnared even the most unsuspecting hearts.

The tales of their ancestors, the whispers of dragons and fire, echoed in your thoughts.

You had seen the cracks in their facades, the fleeting moments when the mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath. It was in the soft utterance, in a mad whisper of devotion.

with me, no harm shall come your way; rhaenyra, whispers.

i would kill anyone who tries to take you from me; daemon, vows.

you must always have me in your heart. it must have only me; aegon pleads.

It was devotion that threatened to consume you. It was in the quiet plea for acceptance. It was in the vulnerable displays, where the attachment grew into something you could no longer control.

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

The madness was not just in their blood; it was in their very souls, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf all who drew too close.

As you finished your preparations, you pondered your next step. To outmaneuver the most powerful people in the realm; to extricate yourself from their grasp, required more than just cunning. It required a keen understanding of the intricate dance of power and madness that played out within these walls.

As you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the madame's warning heavy upon your shoulders, you knew that your journey was far from over. The road ahead was treacherous, but with each step, you inched closer to the freedom that lay beyond the reach of the dragon's fire.

The small council was filled with nobles loyal to Rhaenyra's claim. People who were wise, honest, and unbearably scheming. Aemond was among the council, a concession to allow for unity and to placate those who supported his family. Yet, his presence was more than strategic; Aemond had always been smart and decisive, qualities that made him a valuable asset in matters of governance and warfare. His sharp mind and keen insights often cut through the labyrinth of political machinations, bringing clarity and resolution to complex issues.

Jacaerys, the crown prince, also held a seat on the council. As Rhaenyra's eldest son, it was imperative that he learn the intricacies of rule and the delicate balance of power within the realm. His participation was both an educational experience and a symbol of continuity, showing that the future of the realm was in capable hands. Though Aemond and Jace had a fraught history, they had reached a tenuous truce, understanding the necessity of cooperation for a shared cause. Their interactions were civil, even if not genuinely friendly, a testament to their shared commitment to the greater good.

Aegon, noticeably absent from the meeting, was occupied with securing an allegiance with a rich noble visiting. His transformation from a reckless youth to a responsible leader was a surprising deviation from the expected path, proving that even the most unlikely individuals could rise to the occasion when the realm demanded it.

Where there was once dignified discussions had unravelled into a heated one...

"A marriage allegiance, to the North?" Daemon repeats incredulously, a frown marring his features at the absurd suggestion from one of the lords in the small council.

The man, while relatively small in stature, held his stance despite receiving hostile glares from multiple pairs of scathing gazes. He was certain they wished to command his head off, but the loyalty to your cause remains in him. "The princess is of the right age to marry; it would strengthen our ties with the North and ensure their loyalty," the lord persisted.

Aemond tensed, repressing the urge to draw his sword and cut the insolent bastard's tongue for his brazen suggestion. His dear, sweet cousin, would not debase herself to a mere wolf when she had the blood of a dragon coursing through her veins!

Jace had a similar, quiet indignation. You would not marry to distant mountains, let alone to a foreign man. It was one thing to share your affections among their family, an entirely different one, should it be directed to another entirely.

Rhaenyra, at the head of the council, was first to voice her dissent, her expression calm yet resolute. "The realm is at peace. What need have we for an alliance with the North? We do not need to complicate matters with alliances that may bring more harm than good."

"Peace reigns now, the future is uncertain. Strengthening our ties with the North ensures stability in times of unforeseen turmoil. The marriage alliance is a precautionary measure, one that could safeguard the realm," the lord insisted, gathering murmurs of support around the table.

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "We have dragons! We should be the ones feared, not groveling for alliances like beggars. The North should be seeking our favor, not the other way around. This talk of marriage is a distraction, a needless concession."

"We do not need to rally more support. Our house is strong enough without resorting to such measures," Jacareys adds, stoic though his eyes blazed with unspoken fury.

The defiance in the room was palpable, a wall of resistance against the idea of your marriage to a northerner, the famed Cregan Stark warden of the North.

Every time the notion of marriage was presented, they always had an excuse, a reason to dismiss it. Their hatred for the idea was unmistakable, rooted in their desire to keep you close, to maintain the unity of the family within the confines of King's Landing.

You never much bothered to disagree. Marriage was never your priority; you were trying to stave off the extinction of the Targaryens, where could you find the energy and time to please a husband?

However, this time, you decided to break the pattern.

"I agree," you said, your voice steady and calm. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to you in shock.

"You what?" Daemon's voice was low, dangerous, a silent threat hung in the air as if begging you to repeat your agreement.

"I admire Cregan Stark," you continued, ignoring the rising tension. "He is known to be handsome, domineering, strong, and capable. Such a match would be beneficial for our house."

And he lives in the desolate cold. Far from King's Landing. Come winter, and no dragon, however mighty, could cross its threshold.

Rhaenyra was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Daemon's face turned a deeper shade of red, his anger barely contained. Aemond and Jace looked as though they were on the verge of losing their composure, their fists clenched tightly.

"You would leave for the North?" While emotionless and composed, Aemond was anything but.

"This is absurd. You can't possibly mean this," Jace added, his tone equally tense.

You met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "This alliance is strategic. It ensures the realm's continued prosperity and stability. It is a decision made for the greater good."

Daemon's expression darkened, his frustration palpable as he struggled to reconcile his paternal instincts with sound reason, and not violent tendencies. He thiught it much easier to wield a sword and conquer cities.

"Whoever wove these tales, planting fairy-tale notions of a prince charming into my daughter's head, is a deceiver. They think they can trick her, make her believe in an idyllic fantasy. My daughter is naive and innocent in their eyes, easy to sway. But I will find this manipulator and have his head for daring to poison her mind with such nonsense!" He uttered, voice laced with venom, a final threat to whoever disagreed with his judgement— Daemon thought you naive, and gullible to suggestion, believing it was not your own will, but a treacherous cunt's ideas.

Afterall, you would never desire to leave him; your poor father... and the rest, whoever they may be. He still has no idea which was whom; he kept a tally of one or two silver haired kid, and the rest were lost to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her composure returning as she placed a hand on the table, grounding herself.

"We must weigh all options, think of the ramifications. A marriage... it is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Despite her words, you knew her mind was already made up. She had always been fiercely protective, and the idea of you leaving King's Landing, leaving her side, was something she could not easily accept.

The path to freedom was fraught with peril, but you had come too far to falter now. Your nod to the Arryn lord, was subtle— indicating he back down from his duel of wits. It was an issue for another day. Rhaenyra had made it so.

With a determined breath, you resolved to tread carefully, to gather the strength and allies needed to break free from the chains that bound you.

The Targaryen curse was a formidable foe, but you were no stranger to battles fought in the shadows.

***

do comment if you want to get tagged! 💗☺️

#hotd x reader #yandere hotd #hotd x you #hotd fic #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon

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painted-flag · 5 months ago

Text

Between the Pages - A HOTD x Fairytale Series.

✧.* A series of classic fairytales rewritten with the characters of House of the Dragon.

✧.* note: this series will act as parts in separate universes. characters from the show may appear in multiple parts, but play different roles. each fairytale will not be exactly as they have been told, as i do prefer to take more creative liberty. with that said, i do try and preserve the elements that make them classics in the first place, minus any misogynistic/bigoted values (i'm looking at you Disney's Peter Pan, my enemy #1).

✧.* an x reader series, but with limited/no use of Y/N.

Snow White - Jacaerys Velaryon

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Snow White and the Seven Bandits.

Little Red Riding Hood - Cregan Stark

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Part 1/2. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ Part 2/2.

Beauty and the Beast - Aemond Targaryen

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Part One. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ Part Two: TBA .𖥔 ݁ ˖ Part Three: TBA

Sleeping Beauty - Daemon Targaryen

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ release date TBA

Peter Pan - Benjicot/Davos Blackwood

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ release date TBA

Cinderella - Aegon Targaryen

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ release date TBA

The Little Mermaid - Lucerys Velaryon

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ release date TBA

Rapunzel/Tangled - Harwin Strong

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ release date TBA

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the-fatal-impact · 5 months ago

Text

Jace: Your grace. Lady Jeyne Arryn has pladged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale.

Rhaenyra: And what about Lord Stark?

Jace: Tall, handsome and dreamy!

Jace: Wait, I mean…

Jace: Lord Cretan Stark has promised 2000 men…

Rhaenyra: Oh, please! Tell me more!

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #jace x reader #jacegan #I mean she is that kind of mom #this conversation takes place in AU in which Aemon kindnaped Lucerys to make him his wife xD #random thoughts

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

Text

Main Masterlist Here

Game of Thrones Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Aemond Targaryen ♡

Lemon Cakes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Modern Aemond HCs

Courting HCs

Jealousy HC's

🆇Polaroid's Part 1🆇 🆇Missed You Part 2🆇

🆇Collar🆇

♡ Aegon Targaryen ♡

Modern Aegon HCs

Promise

Artist

🆇Reward🆇

🆇Passageways🆇

Wrapping Presents

Birthday Celebrations

Neighbour part one Daughter part two

♡ Helaena Targaryen ♡

Modern Helaena HCs

🆇Wife🆇

♡ Jace Velaryon ♡

Modern Jace HC's

Cocky Part One 🆇Part Two🆇

🆇Nsfw Alphabet🆇

🆇See You Again🆇

Modern Crush Headcannons

🆇How to Treat a Princess🆇 (featuring Aegon)

🆇Yours🆇

Frat Party Part 1- Frat Baby Part 2

🆇Perfect Wife🆇

Studying

♡ Luke Velaryon ♡

Modern Luke HC's

Dance

Study date - part one - part two

♡ Daemon Targaryen ♡

Modern Daemon HC's

🆇My Sweet Dragon🆇

🆇Partition🆇

🆇In Charge🆇

My Moon & Stars (sequel to in charge)

【P】Swear it【P】

Sugar Baby Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - 🆇Part 4.5🆇 - Part 4 - Part 5 Wedding - Honeymoon

🆇Missed You🆇

🆇Rings🆇

🆇Moved In🆇

♡ Rhaenyra Targaryen ♡

🆇Perzītsos🆇

🆇 Worth it🆇

♡ Harwin Strong ♡

🆇Take Care of You🆇

Suitable Match

♡ Criston Cole ♡

🆇Test my Devotion🆇

♡ Cregan Stark ♡

🆇 Princess🆇

🆇Perfect Little Prisoner🆇

♡Alicent Hightower♡

🆇Dreams🆇

Preferences/Multicharacter

How they react to you being drunk – Aemond, Aegon, Heleana 🆇How he is in bed🆇 – Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Daemon, Harwin 🆇Modern NSFW Heacannons🆇- Jace, Daemon, Aegon, Aemond How they react to your period - Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Cregan, Luke

Modern boyfriend Headcannons - aegon, aemond, jace, luke

New Years Countdown - aegon, aemond, jace, luke

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

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madame-fear · 2 years ago

Note

Request, Enemies to Lover, Stark!Reader X Lucerys Velaryon.

(Also a lil bit smut, hehe...)

*ೃ༄ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 .ೃ࿐

— ☆ amira speaks : ok so, few notes: the starks and targs made alliances first and a short while after luke was sent to storm's end bc this is my own canon, yes? also, conceptually this is a mix of enemies to lovers + slowburn (kinda??) but with the relationship being fastforwarded, iykwim. And, dialogues in italics are from past events. Lucerys is briefly aged up. — summary : [ — ✧ request ] after your brother Cregan became allies with House Targaryen, you are occasionally forced to stand the smartass Prince Lucerys Velaryon, whom always knows how to get on your nerves. Eventually, you soften for each other after he has certain gentlemanly acts with you. But, your relationship drastically changes for the better good when Lucerys is gravely injured on Storm's End, and you are asked to "take care of him." — word count : 4.7k

— pairing : lucerys velaryon x stark!reader — genre : smut, enemies to lover, some fluff.

TW | mentions of near death, unprotected sex, P in V, slight profanity, creampie.

After your elder brother Cregan made strong alliances between House Stark and House Targaryen to support Princess Rhaenyra's birthright to the Throne, you are occasionally forced to tolerate her cocky, smartass secondborn son: Prince Lucerys Velaryon.

No one knew why your relationship was as complex as that, even if your Houses got along together pretty well. Lucerys just knew how to have an ease to pick up on you with small, silly things, and you just always dismissed Luke, retorting back to any remark he would make. If you had to stay in the same room, you would simply whine and hesitate the entire time you're together, not tolerating each other's presence near one another.

“Why don't you like each other?” is a question you'd both hear frequently, simultaneously. The answers are always: “Because he's a spoiled, cocky, and annoying prince”, and also “Because she's boring. I'd rather die than be on the same room as her”. Yet, none of the responses helps your relatives to make you properly bond together.

With the brief passing of time, you learnt to stand whatever thing you thought about each other, and ignoring yourselves. The main situation that helped you slightly tolerate him, was one time you were in the library and you couldn't reach a certain book you fancied to read. There, his hand appeared from your side, and took the book, reaching it down for you with a rather cocky smile on his rosy lips.

“Thank you.” you spat out, taking the book from his hands, staring at him intensely into his eyes. “No need to thank me, Lady Stark. I am simply being a gentleman.” luke would reply back, ruffling your hair in a stupidly teasing manner, with his prideful smile remaining. Afterwards, and strangely enough, you both leisurely softened for each other even if you simply tried ignoring one another; not finding your presences so bad, after all.

Another situation that helped you bond slightly with each other, was the very first time that, during dinner between House Stark and House Targaryen, Lucerys stood from his seat only to offer you his hand, and take you dancing. He mainly did it because his mother suggested him to do so, and he did as he was told even if he protested against it. Obviously, you took his hand a bit hesitantly, and danced together in the centre of the dinning room.

“I figured, I'd much rather take you dancing, than hear continous political chaos, no?” as the princeling gently swirled you around with constant grace, he whispered to you, breaking the silence. You scoffed, humming briefly in response. “Finally, something we can agree with.” you retorted back, making him widely smirk. “Funny girl.” lucerys replied in a murmur, as you both continued dancing around the centre of the dinning hall.

“I would've thought of you as a terrible dancer, but it seems I was mistaken.” the young prince continued talking in a whisper. In response, you chuckled. “And I would've never guessed you would admit being wrong for once, yet, here we are.” the young Velaryon rolled his eyes at you, as you kept talking. “But, thank you. You aren't a bad dancer yourself as well.” you finished, widely grinning at him.

Despite none of you would ever admit it, you realised you actually had more fun dancing together than you originally would've thought. Some chuckles and giggles were heard coming from both of you that night, and it was a relief for your families to see you both in that state.

Luke occasionally loves to bother and annoy you, but what used to be a tedious rivalry where you couldn't even be in the same room, slowly became mere fun teasing to each other, even if you both preferred to keep the 'we can't stand each other' facade with the rest of your relatives. None of you either wanted to admit to yourselves that you didn't find each other as annoying as you used to.

Curiously enough, the feelings that grew for each other was unwanted as well. You found yourselves focusing and thinking on one another more than you should. Occasional mutual staring because you think of one another as... Strangely attractice, feeling the need of defending each other when someone disrespects you, and using random excuses to be near your presences. Oh, and with all of this, you still manage to roll off a 'gods how can they be so annoying?' from your lips. An overwhelming sensation of bittersweet, mixed feelings with each other.

By the time you were already less bothered with Lucerys, eveytime you had to return to Winterfell from Dragonstone, the thought of not being around Luke and tolerating the way he playfully picked up on you constantly made you feel unused to not being around him. To a certain extent, long for his presence, but you try to wash away those feelings.

Upon arriving back to your home in Winterfell a few days after one of your many visits to Dragonstone, you found yourself sitting down on the floor in a calm manner. The direwolf you tamed rested his head on your lap, immersed in a profound slumber, while your fingers leisurely caressed it's soft, fluffy grey fur. The only sound heard resonating through your room was that of the fire crackling coming from the small chimney in your quarters to keep it warm in the usually cold atmosphere of Winterfell.

Your eyes stood fixed on said crackling fire, being drowned on your own sea of thoughts. The mere idea of feeling the slightest of longing for the — now less — annoying Prince Lucerys made you feel confused regarding your own feelings. Despite you insisted to your own mind that you could never feel attracted to that cocky future Lordling that always found a way to get on your nerves, your heart always reminded you of how gentlemanly, and more delicately he's been treating you on your latest visits to House Targaryen.

A sudden knock on your door interrupted your waves of thought, making you turn your head to stare at the door, as well as awaken your sleeping direwolf. Before you could reply, your brother Cregan swiftly opened the door. His facial expression seemed to be tinted with concern, and inner conflict. “(y/n),” he sweetly greeted you, as always. A brief grin formed on your lips. “Cregan.” you greeted back. “Is something the matter?” you inquired, intrigued at his notorious worry.

“Indeed,” he rapidly retorted, standing at your door. ��We must return back to Dragonstone as a matter of urgency.” your brother stated, making you furrow your eyebrows, even more confused. Before you could ask why, he continued. “Prince Lucerys has returned from Storm's End gravely wounded, and we must travel to Dragonstone to support House Targaryen.” a huffed sigh escaped your lips as your brother finished speaking, your eyes widening in surprise at his statement.

“How unfortunate.” you replied to Cregan, continuing to leisurely pet your dire's grey fur. Even if you didn't want such feelings to overwhelm you, you couldn't help but feel a scintilla of deep concern and... fear, for his safety. 'How severe are his wounds?' You wondered to yourself. The feeling of growing worried for Lucerys seemed like a foreign concept for you, but here you were; your heart pounding fast against your chest with nerves, hoping for the best.

A sigh came from Cregan's lips as well. “I know that, even if your relationship is... strangely complex, to put it in a way,” a scoff escaped your lips in response. But your brother wasn't wrong; your relationship with Lucerys had been oddly mixed lately, especially after the certain situations you had together where you found his actions to be proper of a gentleman, but you still picked up on each other and constantly mentioned how much you hated one another.

“But please, meet Lucerys on his chambers, and use the situation as an opportunity to bond together. I am certain the Prince will appreciate your actions after having nearly faced death.” your lips were formed as a thin, straight line as Cregan finished talking. Without responding much, you nodded in agreement.

“Very well, then, I will do my best, and I will go see him.” the tone of your voice seemed weary, but only because you tried to cover the true concern that tightened your chest at the thought of a badly injured Lucerys. And, even if you hated it, a hint of enthusiasm grew on you at knowing you'd see him.

Traveling from Winterfell back to Dragonstone was, fortunately, a rather fast trip. As soon as you arrived to your destination, you were warmly welcomed and thanked by House Targaryen as always, now more than ever, as you provided full support to their House, and for the health of Rhaenyra's secondborn son. A polite, courting smile remained on your lips as Rhaenyra guided your brother and you inside the rocky castle.

Both your brother and you hastily made your way inside Dragonstone, with quick steps following Rhaenyra from behind. Your heart oddly thumped loudly against your chest, and you tried remaining calm with your clasped hands resting in front of your body, attentively listening to Rhaenyra as she briefly spoke about what the inconvenient in Storm's End had been, with overwhelming concern.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” you suddenly spoke, as a moment of silence was made. A soft, low tone came from your lips, yet vehement. “Would it be too much trouble, if I go visit Lucerys and wish him well on his health recovery?” despite your voice being slightly quivering, you somehow managed to inquire Rhaenyra about visiting a recovering Lucerys on his quarters as Cregan suggested without stuttering for a bit.

A warm, polite smile danced on her rosy lips, giving you a single bow with her head. She knew how your relationship with her son was a mix between tense, yet had been latelt formal enough to slightly tolerate one another in the same room. And, even so, she could see the way you occasionally stared at each other, or often found yourselves being on the same room under some dumb, plain excuse. “You may, my sweet girl.” she replied, seemingly happy about your question. “I am certain Luke will be fond of your presence.” Rhaenyra added, and you briefly curtsied as a way of saying thanking her.

Afterwards, a Royal Guard fleetingly guided you through the grey, large halls of Dragonstone, towards the chambers of the Princeling. Fortunately it was a rather short walk, and you quickly found yourself standing in front of a large, dragon-carved wooden door, meaning you had already arrived to his quarters. A respectful, single bow with the head was given to you by the guard, and he left back to where Rhaenyra and your brother where conversating.

Taking several deep breaths, you prepared yourself to be less awkward with the usually teasing future Lord, disliking the feeling of being too nervous at the sight of him badly injured. Your fist was raised slightly, and you knocked the door twice. Not allowing anyone to answer, your hand swiftly opened the door, allowing you to enter.

As soon as you were inside the quarters of Lucerys, your breath sharpened, flinching briefly. A maester stood by his side, Luke laid on bed with a pale face. The princeling wore a silky, white gown, and his face was full of fresh, slightly bloody scars and scratches. Tossed aside on a chair rested his dragonriding clothing, noticing they were dirty, and stained with dried blood. His hair seemed to be wet, and messy. Luke's facial expression was weary, and yet, his green eyes slightly widened at the sight of you entering to his quarters; clearly, he had not expected you to show up.

“Lady Stark.” the maester greeted curtsying you, as Lucerys shyly descended his gaze to his lap upon noticing you, with a tint of pink on his scarred cheeks. Giving the maester a single bow with your head as a form of greeting back, you then fixed your stare on Lucerys. “Hello, maester.” you spoke, with a little grin, and a gentle tone. “May I have some alone time with Prince Lucerys, please?” you kindly asked, and the maester, without hesitation, rapidly left both of you alone on Luke's chambers, bowing down at the two of you before closing the door shut behind of him.

Hesitatingly, Lucerys lifted his stare, shyly taking a look at you. It was annoying to realise how fast, and tight his heart had recently began to feel against his chest at the mere sight of you, but at the same time, he had to admit he enjoyed having you around. “So, you came, Lady Stark.” lucerys mumbled, fixing his eyes on yours, as you gracefully walked to his side of the bed.

“Indeed.” you replied, your lips drawing a genuine smile. “The second my brother and I received the news of your inconveniences on Storm's End, we fleeted to see you, and your family.” as you kept talking, you daintly sat on the edge of his bed, but close enough to his face, resting your hands on your lap, gazing at him. “I must admit, I was deeply concerned for your wellbeing. But... Hearing, and seeing that you're safe and sound relieves me.” the young Velaryon could tell by your gaze, and voice tone, that you were honest. Not even a scintilla of doubt grew on him at your words. A weak smirk formed on his delicate lips. “Thank you, (y/n).” he retorted.

Briefly making an awkward moment of silence, his eyes fell to stare at his own lap. There, the previous pink tint formed on his cheeks, being notorious amongst the freshly bleeding injuries and scars on his face. “I know our relationship is... Strange, to say the least,” lucerys began, as he fidgeted with his trembling fingers. “But even if we're supposed to despise one another, I...” the brunette-haired boy paused. The words seemed to get stuck on his throat, struggling to roll off from his rosy lips. “I... Was frightened of never being able to have your presence near me.” with a sudden keen feeling of courage, Luke lifted his gaze from his lap, staring at you.

“I don't truly care what you think about me, or the things I say to annoy you... But, I genuinely care for you; your presence never fails to lighten my day, as much as I dislike admitting it outloud.” at his words, your lips were briefly apart with surprise. Your face slowly became near to his, being able to admire the precious glint his hazel eyes carried. With shame, he nearly lowered his face back to his lap with slightly weak movements, but you managed to gently take his chin with your fingers, and make him stare back at you.

“You silly, silly boy.” you began speaking, with a stupid wide grin forming on your lips. His eyebrows were furrowed for a brief moment, but you didn't reply, as you boldly pulled yourself closer to him, and planted your lips to the corner of his mouth, dangerously close to his lips. The Prince swallowed nervously as you did so, goofily grinning at you as you leisurely pulled back, staring back at Lucerys.

“I should keep hating you, but I figured... I think, I just love you too much to keep despising you.” you mumbled, as his hazel eyes unconsciously fell down to your beauteous lips, admiring every inch of them. Your own eyes did the same on his enticing, rosy lips. It seemed the tense atmosphere was fervidly felt between the two of you, but it was a passionate, fiery type of tension.

Without saying any other word, you abruptly clashed your own lips against his, while the future Lord of the Tides followed the movements your lips did to kiss his very own. It was alluring to kiss each other, just like two missing pieces of a puzzle that had just found each other. The more intense it became, the more your panting increased; resonating through his quarters.

Despite both of you briefly pulled apart from one another to catch some air, you rapidly returned to keep clashing your lips and kissing, nibbling on each other's lips occasionally, and feeling your accelerated, hot breathing against one another. One of his hands was tightly gripped on your shoulder, and the other one desperately clawed on your back. The way his hand clawed on your back, tugging on your dress, indicated that he so needily wanted to pull you closer to him; and you understood his signals perfectly.

Not breaking the passionate, moist kissing, one of your legs slowly creeped to his side, helping you get on top of him. A breathless moan escaped from him at the feeling of your weight pushing down on his erected bulge that you could feel poking on your in between leg. “Sȳz riña.” luke whispered breathlessly in between the kiss, allowing his eloquent High Valyrian come to light in such heated moment.

'Good girl'. That, you understood. Being a Stark that was deeply immersed in historical readings and had an appreciating thrill for the language of Old Valyria, you had taught yourself how to read and understand High Valyrian. The reaction you were getting from Lucerys made you smirk in mischief, raking your nails on his wet, messed hair, pulling it back, and your other free hand rested on the large, wooden bedheader to keep your balance on top of him.

His shaking hands went to firmly grip on your waist, only to leisurely travel lower to your legs, and slightly hike the skirt of your dress up; giving Lucerys more access to slide his hands under your dress. Even if his hands teasingly moved under your dress to make their way towards your underwear, he managed to, somehow, control your body and keep pushing you on top of his fully erected member. Some strangled noises unwantedly escaped your lips as you rubbed your still clothed, dripping wet core against his bulge.

“You have no idea, how badly I've been lately fantasising about wildly fucking you, every single night.” he husked, beginning to place kisses on your neck, causing you to hitch your breath as you slided your trembling hands through his chest. “Fuck,” you whimpered, feelings his hands precipitously remove your underwear, willingly helping Luke to toss them aside. The windy feeling of the atmosphere hitting your exposed, pulsating genitalia, plus his hands holding a tight, firm grip on your hips, sent shivers down your spine.

Needily, your hands rapidly travelled all across his clothed chest, to all the way below his silk-textured nightgown, rushedly hiking it up to his waist. Your fingers gently — and hurriedly — began working on sliding down his underwear, as your face leaned down to continue placing sloppy, wet kisses on his lips. As you removed his underwear, your exposed, wet core immediatly sat on top of his erection, rubbing yourself against him; his tip already releasing pre-cum from the arousal. The hand that raked it's nails through his hair remained there, holding a tight grip on the back of his head as he released a quivering pant at the pleasure being received.

“You can't tease me, princess.” lucerys kept mumbling in between kissed, intensely fixing his hazel eyes on you as his nails dug deeper on the skin of your hips. “I know you want to desperately fuck me, as much as I wish to.” in response, you teasingly scoffed, and bit his lower lip as to provoke him. Without giving you a warning, you suddenly felt his cock harshly being shoved inside of your wet, throbbing core, causing you to release a sudden gasp against his lips, feeling a brief stinging pain. A strangled noise escaped him, feeling how your walls tightened around his rigid size.

“Fuck, Lucerys...” you groaned, closing your eyes shut, tightening your hand firmly on the bedheader, as you adjusted to his hardened size. Both your breathing was accelerated, hitting against one another's skin. Lucerys descended his lips to trail some small, provoking kisses on hour jaw, and lower his way towards your sensitive neck. As his nails were digging on your skin, he softly began thrusting inside of you a bit deeper, making sure of being as delicate as he could without causing you any type of pain.

You threw your head back, with lips being partly open. Quivering pants and some quiet moans escaped from your lips, as you felt him entering his size deeply inside of you. “You like the way I feel inside of you, no? You're already dripping wet for me, sweet love.” he whispered in a breathless manner, trying to so badly contain his own moaning, widely grinning against your neck, continuing to kiss and nibble gently on your neck to stimulate you even more.

“S-Shut up, and fuck me faster.” you whimpered, nearly begging to feel more, as Lucerys moved dreadfully slow inside of you. “Hae ao jaelagon.” luke growled, briefly pulling apart from biting on your neck's sweet spots, and harshly pounding his entire size against your pussy, leisurely beginning to make an in-and-out motion, having full control of your body. The feeling of your moist genitalia tightening it's walls around his shaft made him throw his head back, parting his lips as some grunting escaped from him.

“Tepagon ziry ry naejot issa, jorrāelagon...” he whimpered, moving your body inside of his erected member. Some slight drops of sweat began appearing on your bodies, as you clenched your jaw, with desperate hope of containing the moans and panting that escaped from you. The wet noises of his own member fervidly pushing inside against your wet core began echoing through the room, slowly being accompanied by your whining moans.

One of trembling his hands kept it's tight grip on your waist as to help his ridge enter deeper on your shaft, as the other one went to take hold of the back of your hair, slightly pulling your hair. “Fuck, you feel so good, p-please, don't stop–” you whined, stuttering and being occasionally interrupted by your own moans, which got louder with every thrust. His twitching cock knew exactly where to continue hitting continously, as to make you reach your orgasm faster.

“Seven Hells, you feel so good” he yelped, fluttering his eyes shut, as he groaned in pleasure. “You are so tight and wet around my cock, y-you feel better than I-I imagined...” as he kept whispering breathlessly, stammering, your own body began shoving itself all the way down to the end of his rigid member, pulling your hips down hard, penetrating as profoundly as he could. “Lucerys...” you whined, barely being able to form a proper sentence.

The rougher he kept pounding against your dripping pussy, getting moister every passing second, the more dumbfounded you felt. You could barely think to form a proper thought, or sentence. Both of you were misted by a cloud of pure ecstasy, beginning to feel an aching inner heat tightening inside of your chests, as an uncomfortable knot inside your stomachs formed. “L-Lucerys, I-I think...” pausing for a second, a crying, loud moan escaped from your lips. Luke's own moaning continued, being joined by growls.

“I-I'm going to cum...” you cried, tightening your hand, whose fingers were deeply interwined around his messy, already sweaty hair. His lips once again went to your neck, but only being placed against your skin, harshly breathing on you. “Māzigon syt issa, dōna jorrāelagon–” lucerys commanded, a cry of pleasure abruptly escaping him.

Hearing his High Valyrian coming from him while he fucked you roughly, made you shudder in pleasure. Your legs were violently trembling at feeling how he continously hit said sensitive spot, making your knees buckle; feel weak and vulnerable under his touch. The uncomfortable knot formed on your stomach was suddenly released, making you scream with pleasure, as a shockwave was felt travelling all across your body. For a second, Lucerys stopped his penetrating motion as his warm cum was rapidly discharged from his twitching cock, to inside of your fluttering walls, accompanying you in your screaming of pleasure, throwing his head back as a trail of fire invaded his insides.

Your hands were firmly, and tightly placed on his shoulder as you had a simultaneous release, having your mutual orgasm. His semen dripped out from your pussy, along with your own wet liquids; it was a rather pleasuring sight for Lucerys. Both your bodies were heavily sweating, as you panted together, deciding to take a small break from all the intensity. Your eyes were shut, your chest arose and fell trying to catch some air. Feeling your weak legs trembling, you lost some balance, and suddenly let your head fall to the crook of his neck.

“I didn't know you could fuck so well.” a breathless chuckle escaped from your lips, relaxing your body on top of his own as his member remained inside of you. One of his hands went to be wrapped around your delicate body, and the other one sweetly played with some sweaty strands of your hair, vastly grinning at your comment. “Now you know, and I have so much more to give, byka jorraelagon.” lucerys murmured, planting several soft, little kisses on top of your head.

“I can only hope my brother didn't hear us. Otherwise, he'd send our direwolves to bite off your cock and balls.” you joked, fluttering your eyes shut. Another chuckle — this time, louder — escaped from his lips, stupidly grinning. Lucerys couldn't care whether or not his brother liked the fact that he was now head over heels for you. All he needed, was to have you by your side, and fill you with all the love he tried to contain for you.

A brief moment of silence was made, as you tried coming down from your high on top of his body, with your eyes shut and your head on the crook of his neck. Lucerys peacefully caressed your silky hair, looking down at you with admiration. “You know, (y/n),” the Lordling began, breaking the silence. “I know we're constantly talking about how much we despise each other, but I suppose it's time for me to admit, that I actually love you. Your personality, your beauty, your grace, your courage, everything.” a deep, crimson flush took over his face, as you once again opened your eyes, and lifted your sight to gaze into his hazel eyes.

A shy smile formed on your own lips, mimicking his very own tint on his cheeks. One of your quivering hands travelled to be placed on his cheek, caressing with your thumb a fresh scar all across his angelical face that still contained some blood, now dried. His face flinched briefly, but rapidly, he gave into your warm touch. “As I now love every inch of your being, Lucerys Velaryon. And when my brother told me about your near death in Storm's End, I realised, I would be so lost without you.” your voice was soft and delicate, making sure to fix your gaze on him, so he could see the glint of certainty on your (e/c)-coloured eyes.

Without allowing him to say another word, you delicately leaned closer to him, tightening your grip on his face — as your hand remained on his cheek —, and tenderly placed your lips against his own trembling ones, savouring his sweet taste. Lucerys wasn't used to such display of affection coming from a Lady, and it was quite a surprise all that it had just happened, but he realised... That with you, he could begin to get used to it.

The mutual hate vanished away rapidly, being turned into something much beauteous and graceful, provoking the feeling of butterflied fluttering on his heart whenever you kissed, stared, or caressed him. Even if he had nearly faced death at the hands of his uncle back on Storm's End, it didn't matter anymore.

The situation made him realise how he would fervidly miss your presence, and how you helped him forget about all his troubles, and he would forever cherish you for such thing by constantly providing you with love, and undying protection.

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spicy30 · 2 months ago

Text

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 ̑̑

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blakeswritingimagines · 4 months ago

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How They Worship You

Aegon: He prioritizes quality time together, whether it's through shared meals, adventures, or quiet moments together. He prioritizes physical intimacy and expresses affection in ways that make you feel cared for and desired. He prioritizes your well-being, from emotional support to practical assistance. He plans special surprises and gestures to show you how much he cares. He prioritizes your opinions and feelings and works to build a healthy and equal partnership based on mutual respect.

Aemond: He expresses his support and loyalty to his partner through small and big gestures, such as making you your favorite meal, planning outings and adventures together, or simply holding your hand and reassuring you of his love and devotion. He works hard to build a stable and secure relationship by being a reliable presence in your life, and by consistently showing up for you in all aspects of life, whether it's career, personal life, or the bedroom. He always strives to make you feel safe, heard, and loved, and to be the best version of himself for you.

Jacaerys: He worships his partner by prioritizing your happiness, needs, and desires. He makes sure you feel loved and appreciated by demonstrating kindness, respect, and affection. He is present and engaged when you speak, and he makes an effort to listen with his whole being. He supports your goals and dreams, and he is open to exploring new experiences with you. He prioritizes communication, honesty, and understanding, and works to build trust and deepen connection. He takes time to express his love and admiration and cherish every moment spent together.

Lucerys: He worships his partner by doing small acts of kindness, such as offering a warm cup of tea, giving a massage, or writing you a heartfelt letter. He makes an effort to be thoughtful and proactive, remembering important dates and occasions, and surprises you with unexpected gestures. He takes time to learn your love languages and adapt his behavior to make you feel loved in the ways that resonate most deeply with you.

Rhaenyra: She strives to be a safe and reliable partner, someone you can trust and depend on. She shows up for you through action, not just words, and follows through on her commitments. She is open and honest, and communicates clearly, respectfully, and openly with you. She is willing to compromise and find mutual solutions to problems, and she approaches conflicts with an open mind and a willingness to listen and learn. She works to strengthen your connection and build a partnership based on mutual respect and equality.

Daemon: He worships his partner by making time to spend together, whether it's going on dates, having intimate moments, or simply enjoying each other's company. He prioritizes your comfort, security, and stability, and works to create a safe and supportive environment. He is willing to compromise and make sacrifices for the sake of the relationship, and he tries to be forgiving and understanding when mistakes or conflicts arise. He prioritizes physical touch and makes sure to express his desire through physical connection.

Alicent: She honors your boundaries and respects your space, understanding that you need time to yourself and independence like anyone else. She expresses her love and appreciation through both words and actions, such as planning dates and leaving notes to let you know you are on her mind. She prioritizes your well-being, offering support and assistance whenever she can. She is committed to personal growth, both for herself and for the betterment of your relationship. She is always open and communicating, not only to listen but also to be vulnerable and express her feelings.

Helena: Her devotion to her partner goes beyond anything simple. She ensures that you feel safe with her, both physically and emotionally, and she works to create a secure and stable foundation for your relationship. She is dependable and consistent, following through on her words and actions. She shows respect for your autonomy and individuality, allowing you the space and freedom to be yourself. She takes an interest in your hobbies, passions, and pursuits, and she celebrates your successes. She makes an effort to maintain intimacy and connection, both physically and emotionally, and she prioritizes spending quality time together.

Harwin: He surprises you with small gestures of affection like buying your favorite snacks or leaving love notes. He plans fun date nights and makes sure you feel pampered and prioritized. He also makes an effort to spend quality time with you, engaging in activities you enjoy and actively listening to your thoughts and feelings.

Cregan: He expresses his love through small acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, such as getting your favorite dish, giving you a comforting hug, or surprising you with a small gift. Additionally, he makes an effort to prioritize your emotional and physical well-being. He helps with housework and other tasks and makes sure you have adequate rest and time to relax. He is supportive and understanding during challenges and setbacks and offers comfort and assurance when you need it. Overall, he makes it his priority to make you feel loved, valued, and respected at all times.

Criston: He expresses his love through acts of service, like making you your favorite meal or doing small gestures to make your life easier. He surprises you with unexpected gifts or experiences that reflect your interests and bring joy. He makes an effort to learn about your love language and communicate in a way that resonates with you. He prioritizes quality time together, whether it's a romantic date night or simply cuddling on the couch. He shows vulnerability and a willingness to grow and learn with you, and he makes it a priority to be a safe and supportive space for you.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #helena targaryen x reader #harwin strong x reader #cregan stark x reader #criston cole x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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damn-stark · 5 months ago

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Chapter 9 Pure as The Driven Snow

Chapter 9 of Moonlight

A/N- We’re back with new chapters! I hope you guys like it. I got real nervous writing this. I don't know why! Also is it a sign that your dragon likes your lover more than your husband?

Warning- some swearing, talks of pregnancy, Angst!, fluff, hunting SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- After 1x10 & before 2x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW MONTHS AGO*

“Dragon fruit for the dragon Princess?”

“Pearl necklace for the Siren of Driftmark?”

“Oranges? They are good for a growing babe.”

You touch your 6-month-old swollen belly and come to another stop in front of a stand to study the big round oranges stacked so neatly on the crates.

“How much?” You ask the vendor.

The man puts his hands on his hips and studies his fruit for a moment before facing you. “Discount for you Princess. 5 Silver dragons.”

You glance at Aemond, and he makes his hesitation known before handing you your pouch of money. He doesn’t find this trip necessary, he says that whatever you want can be brought to you right away, especially because you’re with child, but, being stuck in the same rooms all day is torture! You told him the baby and you would go mad while batting your eyelashes really sweetly and he hesitantly accepted without a fight.

“I’ll give you 10 golden dragons instead of silver,” you tell the vendor as you get out the golden coins that make the man’s eyes almost pop out of eyes. “Find good use for it.”

The man shares a nervous laugh and takes the money, but holds your hand before he steps away and bows his head. “Thank you, Princess. Thank you, may the gods bless you and yours.”

You offer him a kind smile, and then gently pull away to pick the oranges, but he suddenly blocks the oranges with his hands. “No, these are no good. I have perfect ones. Juicy and sweet.”

He crouches and pulls out a box from under the table and hands it to you. Albeit before you can even reach for it, Ser Criston takes the box for you.

“Have a nice day, sir,” you direct at the man before you continue down the street lively with people.

“<He ripped you off you know,>” Aemond grumbles in High Valyrian so the people around you wouldn’t understand him.

You scoff softly and hook your arm around his. “In Winterfell, Lady Arra, and Lord Stark treated their people like they were friends and they got respect.” You sigh and shrug gently. “Of course, I know not everyone has good intentions, but Lord Stark taught me how to read people. I try to use his advice when talking to people here, it is why I know this guy was no trickster.”

Aemond hums in comprehension but doesn’t actually agree or take in what you said. You may be down amongst the people, but he’s in the clouds where he’s untouchable. The only thing that matters is your mention of Lord Stark.

“You and Lord Stark are close friends?”

You don’t remove your hand from his arm even if you’re tempted to, you don’t let your eyes flicker even if you have the burning need to look away to hide the truth. You keep the faint smile that decorates your features and keep looking around. “Well considering I lived in Winterfell for five years, yes, we are good friends. Or were.”

“You don’t write?” He probes and keeps his focus on you to try and watch for anything that might give you away. “You often get letters from Winterfell.”

There’s no excuse for a lingering silence, you can’t breathe a certain way because he’s paying close attention, so you turn your head to meet his gaze and share your rehearsed lie. “Sometimes, but I talk to someone else. A lady friend that lives in the castle. One of late Lady Arra’s friends.”

Aemond holds your gaze and tries to pick up on something just a hair out of place, but you keep composed well and he goes unaware once again, letting you let out a small breath and smile with relief.

“I won’t go poor by giving these people something extra. Bless them and the gods bless you. Lady Stark would say that.” You return the subject to what you were previously talking about. “Besides I actually got a craving for oranges. Or the babe did.” You grin and touch your belly again, feeling a small movement now that makes you giddy.

“Feel,” you beckon Aemond and snatch his hand from his side to press it against your small belly. “He’s moving.”

Aemond comes to a stop in the middle of the street and caresses your belly very gently, letting you watch his blue eye soften, and those thin lips show a faint smile.

And since it took him no time to show his affection or his bliss you can’t help but grin in awe before you slide his hand to the other side. “See?” You interject softly. “He wants oranges.”

A wider smile tugs on Aemond’s face before he takes your hand again and continues to walk with you down the street.

“You do not know that it is a boy,” he likes to remind you.

You giggle. “I do. It’s an instinct. When I imagine the babe I see a boy. Always. We will have a boy. I’ll even bet you.”

Aemond scoffs and smirks. “You can place your bets with Aegon. He never turns down the chance to gamble. I believe you.”

“Good,” you grin. “Now I wonder how many kids we will have, six? I want a big family. But if I can’t have so many I will be content with two, but we need to have a baby girl.”

“So you can name her Daenys?” Aemond finishes for you, making you look at him with awe.

“You remember?” You probe.

A small smirk spreads on his lips and he nods. “I do. You’d only bore me with stories about her.”

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t bore you. You’d bring me the books!”

“Because it was your favorite,” he counters softly.

You laugh softly and nod. “It still is. Maybe our Daenys will be an amazing dreamer just like the great legend that saved our house.”

“Yes,” he agrees with an obvious glee in his voice. “Maybe.”

You let out a content sigh and rest your head on his shoulder while you take in the stands you pass.

“Spare some food? Money?” A child with his face covered in dirt asks. “Something small?”

“<He just wants to steal from you, they always have money.>” Aemond points out.

Even if he did, you don’t care, you stop and turn to pick out an orange off the box.

The kids' eyes grow curious, and they follow your hand as you move it towards him. You pretend you’re going to give him a single orange, but you then hand it to Aemond and instead grab the box from Ser Criston’s hold.

“Take it,” you tell the kid. “It’s for you.”

You put the box down in front of him and offer him a smile before you move on. This time Aemond doesn’t remark on your actions—you wouldn't care either way, so he just lets it pass and takes your hand in his again so you wouldn’t wander off just as you approach the outer castle gates.

However, before you can cross the courtyard, a woman with a bright red dress walks out of her house and announces something that steals your immediate attention. “Wish to know your future, my Princess?”

“Princess,” Ser Criston immediately interjects. “She’s only trying to take your money. It’s a scam. Leave it.”

You flick your wrist down and take the money pouch from Aemond’s side.

“Your worry is misplaced, Ser,” the pretty lady with beautiful and remarkable colored eyes cuts in. “But I understand. Patience is a fickle thing is it not, Ser Criston Cole? If only you had known it, you would be happy now.” Her eyes dart to you and then go back to him quickly as if trying to point something out.

You don’t read into it, or demand an explanation, you let her continue as she looks between all three of you. “I am a humble servant of the Lord of Light,” she rebuttals, “I only mean to give the Princess insight for her eyes are covered and her soul is basked by darkness.”

You smile at her eagerly and let Aemond go to step towards her. “What is your name?” You ask first.

The woman's bright eyes meet yours and her lips tug upward just slightly. “I am Kinvara, Priestess of the Lord of Light.”

Your name passes Aemond’s lips, but you disregard his warning and the priestess tries to ease Aemond’s worry in your mother tongue. “<I am no one to fear, fear resides in the whispers that are heard in the shadows, and from the lips of pretenders,” she pauses and narrows her eyes on him. “You see clearly with her at your side, venture too far and you're left blind. Don’t let the shadows consume you, My Prince, or darkness is all you’ll know.>”

You glance at him and grin brightly before facing her again. “Now can you tell me what I seek?” You press impatiently.

Kinvara turns and walks inside, speechlessly motioning you to follow, but before you can you face Aemond first. “Wait for me out here,” you tell him.

Aemond shoots you a pointed glare and grabs your arm. “Let’s go. This is all fake. She will take your money.”

You pat his cheek and give him one last piece of reassurance. “She can try but she’ll never steal my riches,” you quip. “I’ll be fine, it’s just for fun.”

You shoot him a small smile and then lean in to kiss his cheek before you follow after the Red Priestess, finding a single fire lit on a golden bowl in the middle of the elegant parlor room.

“How much will it cost?” You ask her as you slowly wander to the stand holding the bowl.

“Nothing but your attention,” she shares in a soothing voice. “And a drop of your blood.”

You stop before the bowl and don’t question offering her your hand even if you should, and Kinvara doesn't make it any harder. She’s quick and doesn’t hesitate picking out a single thin needle before gently cupping your hand and poking the sharp end on the pad of your thumb.

When a scarlet drop of blood crawls out of the small wound she pulls your hand over the flames and turns it to face the flames. After the single drop of blood falls in the flames she lets your hand go and throws the needle in the flames to let the fire eat away at it.

“You have fire-made flesh, a gift from the Lord of Light,” she begins to say bluntly.

You would’ve liked to be eased into it, but you’re no expert so you clasp your hands over your belly and watch her eyes read the dancing flames with curiosity.

“You have salt-littered blood and a dragon-made soul that burns fiercely and passionately; she flies high within the clouds in search of something…” she lets the words slip out as if she was chanting a spell, and then meets your gaze across the flames.

You should be intimidated, but you’re just eager to know more.

“…three hearts,” Kinvara adds. “One made of ice, two of fire. Three soul made dragons…”

Three, huh?

“…and loyalty.”

It’s hard to piece anything together but you still can’t help but feel joy, and an overwhelming curiosity that pushes you to pick at one thing that caught your attention. “Three soul-made dragons? Does it mean I’ll have three kids?”

Kinvara smiles sweetly. “Smart girl, but you’ll have seven. The three I see will grow, they’ll know happiness and long lives.” She hums and blinks whilst her smile fades to a smirk. “But sins will burden them and cast over them like shadows.”

Right away your smile fades and for the first time since you saw her, fear begins to crawl across your mind. “What…does that mean?” You ask quietly.

The red priestess lifts her chin and sighs. “You’ll know.”

How insightful.

“One more thing,” she interjects and moves away from her spot to reach you and grab your hands “Fire kills the girl and awakens the dragon. Follow the flames for they are sweet to you since the moment your right was taken.”

You let out a deep breath and nod stiffly. You don’t understand completely, or at all actually, but you nod in comprehension before you just feed one more piece of curiosity. “Could I read the flames as well?”

Kinvara moves back across the flames and points her chin to the fire, encouraging you to try and read what the flames could tell you.

“You might not see your own future, remember that. If you see anything it will only be glimpses,” she lets you know while you step forward and focus your eyes on the bright flames seeming to lure you in; but not like every other time before, this calling is different now, you don’t have the urge to touch the flames or bathe yourself in their fierce beauty.

What calls you now are whispers; unclear, but trying to make sense in their own way.

“Listen,” Kinvara says as if can read your mind. “And open your eyes.”

She can’t mean your actual eyes because those are already open, she must mean it metaphorically or whatever, and as difficult as it seems you draw out a deep breath and focus on nothing else but the dancing flames; you don’t let Aemond come to mind, nor do you think about what was told to you, you narrow your gaze slightly and watch in silence.

After a few moments, you start to grow irritated, but suddenly before that frustration breaks your focus you freeze and catch your breath when you see snow falling. It’s clear as day as if you’re living through what you see.

Something falls with the snow though, something thicker and different in color. It’s slightly intoxicating and brings a stench of fire and smoke with it.

You have the urge to dive deeper to figure out what you see, but the scene changes to more white plains covered in snow, ashes, and bones, and above it stands a woman with silver hair. She stands above it all while a winter storm descends upon her. You see her start to turn her head but before you can make out her face, fire is all you see.

“<A long winter.> Kinvara breaks the silence and pulls your attention back to her.

“<Yes,>” you respond in High Valyrian as it actually makes sense.

The priestess offers you a smile and walks to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll see you again.”

You’re left in so much disbelief that you don’t question what she means by “I’ll see you again.”, you bid her a farewell and return to Aemond.

“I was about to barge in there,” Aemond says in a rush.

You blink repeatedly and meet his gaze with your disbelief still clinging to your features. Aemond notices and grabs your shoulders.

“What is it? What did she do?” He hisses.

You draw out a deep breath and with that push away all your disbelief to not worry him over something that’s not clear.

“Nothing, she simply told me we’ll have seven kids,” you share the only thing that was clear.

Aemond scoffs in disbelief but he leaves it at that. Just as you do.

——

*NOW. WINTERFELL*

When you think of home, Aerion, your mother, and your brothers are what you picture in your mind. They are your home, it doesn’t matter the place, as long as they’re with you that’s what you call home.

But oftentimes, when the word home comes up, when you think about home sometimes you picture these tall grey walls, you see these snow-covered hills, the white skies that stretch for miles and bring icy winds and delicate and beautiful snow. You see grey eyes and a timid smile. You remember the warmth from all the fires lit all day and the warmth his body provides. You think of home and someone who isn’t your husband is all you see. You try to fight it, but your longing is stronger than your will.

Now as you stand in these snowy planes and feel this instant comfort fill your heart all you can think about is how dangerous it is.

You were too hasty to make your suggestion and climb your dragon. You’re only steps away and as heart racing as it is, you also can’t help but strain your heart with anxiety as well.

Letters are completely different than seeing face to face again than feeling his hand grab yours and feeling his lips brush your knuckles. Jacaerys is here but will that stop your deep desires? Will that stop him from being mad at you for being distant and not writing to him anymore? Will that stop that tension?

But why is it that a problem?! You’re married! And you love Aemond, he’s your home too; him and Aerion are your family. A family you built after being apart from your own, and even if you have this new strain, you still want to fix it, you still want to fight for Aemond and your family. You have to be strong for them. You can’t give in to what feels comfortable and what your heart might cry for. You have to be strong. You have to be friends and nothing more.

“It’s snowing,” Jacerys muses as he reaches for a snowflake. “I honestly thought there would be more.”

You glance at the open gates and already imagine him waiting in that courtyard in front of his staff, family, and friends. It’s impossible to ignore two dragons descending in front of your home after hearing about an impending war and a call for a declaration from the Greens.

“It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be down here,” Jacaerys adds to his rambling. “How did you ever do it?”

“Well we are in the North,” you mutter unaware of your tone.

“Oh, no need to get snippy, I know where we are,” your brother remarks.

You sigh and turn to him. “Sorry,” you admit. “It's just what if he says no? It’s almost winter, his people need him here. And what would he gain from supporting one or the other, he could just decide to remain neutral.”

Jacaerys leans forward and tries to be assertive. “He’ll gain the Queen's lifelong gratitude, and a chance to prove his loyalty…he’s a Stark, you know that, they take pride in their loyalty. I don’t see why he’ll turn us away. Do you?”

No, but that’s not really why you’re worried, in one form or the other you just needed to be assured.

“I see your point,” you tell him.

Jacaerys gaze lingers on you to be an assuring brother for a moment longer before it’s time to break away from your running thoughts and growing panic and face Cregan with your head held up high, and a fierce determination on your face.

Yet when you walk past those main gates, that fierce determination is met with inklings of worry. Your head is high, but it’s practiced, it’s years of practice, there's a tension on your shoulders, and your breathing is slightly hitched because of your racing heart making your lungs work overtime.

You try to show your confidence in your stride, you are the Queen's daughter after all, but the closer you get to that courtyard the more you hide behind Jacaerys, as if that will help you avoid anything you’re about to face.

If someone were to guess, they’d say it’s your first time here with the way you’re cowering behind your brother and letting him carry all the confidence and pride for you both, but it’s not. As you trail behind your brother, some people you pass by actually recognize you.

You are Winterfell's luminous sun after all, the warmth and light in the darkest winter storm and lightest snow days, capable of melting the most stubborn ice. To their Lord though you are much more and it’s been easy to notice since the moment your purple dragon was seen. You are the reason he smiles, and the sun that gleams in his grey eyes.

But like the sun you hide. You finally make it to the main courtyard but Jacaerys is the first one seen and almost the only one they can see. You don’t want to come out of hiding because you don’t want to see him.

Your heart is pumping so fast, and your hands are trembling. You can almost feel a tightness grab ahold of your chest.

“Jacaerys,” you call out in a quiet panic.

Said man turns and when he does he uses his whole body to move away from you, in that moment leaving a clear and open view of none other than Cregan Stark. There he stands, tall, proud, and mighty. Grey eyes bright and soft even against his hardened gaze. His pink lips form into the faintest smile that you notice right away because you can’t help it, everyone and everything disappears, leaving only him and you in the snow-covered courtyard.

Not even your initial panic exists anymore, it melts away, and your body eases with a simple look into his familiar eyes. Your once-racing heart slows down, but now flutters and skips a beat, and you can’t stop it. Just like he can’t help himself because here you are again, across from him with light snow perfectly raining over you, eyes so deep and captivating that he loses himself within with ease. Your face is basked by a gleam of light that makes you so much more divine, and a heartwarming smile decorates your perfectly sculpted lips.

Now he knows composure, he knows his place, but in this small escape where only you and him exist, it’s costing everything within him not to break away and capture your lips with his. He just wants to grab and kiss you, but your trance is broken by the sound of your name being announced followed by your house.

“…of House Velaryon, wife of Aemond Targaryen.” And then there's that ridiculous reminder that you are not his anymore.

Luckily that cruel reminder is not with you, instead, there’s another, smaller in stature, but still standing tall and mighty with gold dragon emblems on his belt and on his cloaks broach. He proudly wears the colors black and red which shows who he is without the need of an introduction.

“Prince Jacaerys, of house Velaryon,” the guard still announces the man you’re accompanied with.

“My Prince, my Princess,” Cregan speaks in that thick northern accent that makes your heart swoon. “Welcome to Winterfell.” He bows his head, and the crowd behind him mirrors him.

When he raises his head again and stands tall the first thing he does is meet your gaze. You should glance away and share why you’re here, but you part your lips and only a soft breath comes out as you hold his gaze.

“It’s a pleasure to have you back, Princess,” Cregan addresses you formally, hiding away the history you share. “The North has missed you.”

Your cheeks grow warm, and your lips form a flattered smile before you announce it. “You flatter me, My Lord. I have missed the North, and the snow as well.”

He huffs in amusement and spares a glance at the falling snow. “Well you’re lucky then, it just started to snow. It seems you brought a late summer snow with you.”

You share a breathless giggle, and his eyes share his awe.

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cuts in and reminds you he’s here too.

“Oh right,” you cut in and look at your brother, seeing his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you and then glances at Cregan. You ignore him and grab his arm to go on proudly. “Lord Stark, my brother, and my mother's heir, Jacaerys Velaryon.” You share what he was already told, but it feels right to introduce him yourself again. “Jacaerys, this is Lord Cregan Stark.”

“It's a pleasure, my prince, welcome to the North,” Cregan addresses him kindly, making you smile. “Your sister has told me many tales about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Your brother bows his head. “Likewise, my sister speaks fondly of her stay here too.”

Cregan glances at you and the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly.

“I do wish I was here under better circumstances to have some of that fun my sister always goes on about,” Jacaerys starts to get to the point, leaving no time to wander. But that’s good, you are here on business, you can’t forget that.

“But unfortunately we are here under orders of the Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Jacaerys proclaims, making the crowd murmur as the whispers they’ve heard are finally confirmed.

Cregan nods stiffly and glances back at his great hall just behind him. “I assumed so,” he says and looks back at Jacaerys and you. “Let’s go talk inside. I’m sure this change of weather is not so agreeable for southerners used to warm summers.”

Jacaerys scoffs softly and nods before he follows Cregan’s lead unaware of the fact that he’s leaving you behind as you’re stopped by some people in the crowd.

“Princess,” a thin middle-aged man who works inside the castle greets you and steals your attention.

“Good sir, John,” you greet him with a smile. “How is your daughter?” You ask as you remember how she had been when you left.

The man nods eagerly and smiles in return. “Very well, my princess. Healthy and strong. The gods let her survive her fever,” he shares and points behind you. You follow his line of gaze and see his daughter in a tall tower watching what you can only assume are the dragons in the distance.

“I told you she’s strong,” you tell him with genuine relief.

“Princess,” one of the cooks addresses you, making you turn to her and smile.

“Ms Maribell,” you turn your attention to her. “I’m glad to see you.”

“And you,” she returns sweetly. “I hear you have a son, where is he now? Why didn’t you bring him?”

You nod. “Yes,” you share excitedly and touch your chest. “Aerion. He’s four months old, but sadly I had to leave him behind with my mother, what I’m out here doing is no place for children I’m afraid. But I do want to bring him after these affairs are in order.”

“When you do, stop by here,” she suggests. “I’m sure he’ll love Winterfell as much as you did.”

You grin and nod, but before you can add more to your friendly conversation, your name cuts through the icy breeze. You look over and see your brother with a pressing look.

“My brother beckons me, I’ll see you all later,” you excuse yourself and offer them a small head bow before you stride to your brother and take his arm.

“<We are not here for a friendly visit,” he whispers sharply in High Valyrian. “I know your history here, but please stay focused.>”

You sigh and look ahead, catching Cregan’s vigilant gaze focused on you after he, unbeknownst to you, watched you interact with his people and treated them like they were your long-lost friends. It honestly fills his heart with a warmth that makes his grey eyes gleam with a joy that you easily notice against his nonchalant expression while he waits for you and your brother.

Since he so often wears a hardened expression on his face it’s hard to know what he feels, but after five years you learned how to read him like a soulmate reads its other half without a need for words. Yet you don't know the exact reason why he was so touched.

“Forgive our delay,” Jacaerys instantly brings up like a proper Prince. “My sister is easily distracted.”

Cregan lets you walk in the great hall first and once the doors close behind him he huffs and responds. “Yes, I remember, so do not worry, my Prince.”

You glance at your brother and pass him a teasing look. He meets your gaze and shoots you a warning glare before he brings you both to a stop just under Lord Stark’s throne.

“I hope the northern winds weren’t too harsh,” Cregan addresses while he walks to his chair.

“Well they were colder the closer we got to Winterfell, but they helped our dragons pick up speed to deliver this message from Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Jacaerys makes a quick workaround to why you’re here.

“Just last night I received an envoy from your uncle who calls himself King as well,” Cregan says as he takes the sealed scroll from Jacaerys.

“No, you got an envoy from a Usurper,” you immediately correct him. “The true ruler is the one the late King Viserys appointed as his heir, Queen Rhaenyra. That never changed nor was it his will for it to change after his death.”

Cregan glances at you and stares at you in silence for a moment as he processes your words before he finally opens the scroll and reads what was written.

“Your father bent the knee to Queen Rhaenyra when she was named heir, and swore that House Stark and the North will follow the line of succession,” Jacaerys adds to the point to try and further convince Cregan. “Now Queen Rhaenyra’s throne was stolen and demands you follow your father's path and stand proudly in support of her rule and war if it arises.”

You have seen so little of your brother's political side since you were reunited, so now that you see it you can’t help but be in awe of the man standing tall beside you, proving himself a worthy heir.

“Your words move me,” Cregan finally interjects as he lowers the scroll to look at Jacaerys and you. “And your presence honors me. Winterfell is almost at the edge of the world, but you still came to deliver this in your mother's regard,” he says and makes some of that tension release from Jacaerys shoulders. “I know of my father's oath to your Queen. I also know how deep disloyalty cuts when it’s made by one’s own kin, your sister was here to witness my uncle usurping my rightful place as Lord…which is why I do not intend to break oath today. The North will not break oath today,” Cregan proclaims confidently and with no falter, relieving your brother of his worry, but not yours.

“But,” Cregan proves your worry worthwhile. “Winter is coming my Prince, my Princess. And these seem almost like family affairs. The Queen has my loyalty, but why should we support this war? My priorities are with my people and providing for them before Winter arrives.”

You and Jacaerys share a conflicted look, but neither of you are stuck on what to say, you're just debating who should speak in your defense. You with an advantage, or Jacaerys with a blunt but respectful tongue?

Honestly, you both probably have great points, but in your speechless exchange, Jacaerys trusts you.

“I understand,” you argue and step forward, gaining all of Cregan’s attention. “I have not lived a true winter, but I understand your hesitance, My Lord. I understand your people need you now more than ever, but the Greens have an advantage, that’s something we can admit, and they will not be afraid to use it against you, and your Queen. They already steal from her, will you stand to see them take more? Will you stand and see your people and lands burnt? Will you sit and do nothing as injustice is acted upon your Queen? Or will you and your people fight for what’s right, and for the greater or good of the North?”

Cregan shifts in his seat and keeps his hardened gaze on you for a long and tense silence. You could read what he might be thinking, but you look at your brother and fall back by his side to wait for a response.

“Your words move me,” Cregan interjects with a small huff. “And leave me a lot to think about. I hope you understand my choice will not be taken lightly, I must speak with my own people on these matters, just be assured that the North supports the rightful Queen.”

Cregan stands from his seat and Jacaerys steps forward to cut in. “How long will we have to wait?”

Cregan raises his chin. “Soon, I swear,” he promises. “As for now, you must be tired from your travel. Baths will be drawn in your quarters, and supper will be served shortly in this hall.”

You draw in a deep breath and much to your surprise you’re the one who grows impatient instead of Jacaerys. “Thank you, My Lord Stark,” you deadpan and bow your head.

Said man catches your tone before the change on your face, but says nothing on the matter. Instead, he walks down and points to the door that leads to your apartments.

Yet before you can make any attempt to walk out, the doors open and a servant carrying a dark-haired child walks in, and without as much as insight to clue you in, you know who the child is right away, you can see it in his familiar dark eyes, and that kind resting face.

“Oh gods,” you muse excitedly and lose all your annoyance in the blink of an eye. “Is this baby Rickon?” You direct at Cregan.

“Yes, this is my boy,” he assures you and you don’t wait for the wet nurse to come to you, you meet her halfway.

“Jacaerys,” you exclaim as you grab the child’s hand with a bright grin. “I helped deliver this child!” You squeal and turn back to the baby.

“I believe it,” your brother mutters.

“Hello little Lord,” you greet the baby a bit too excited. “Look at you, you look like your mother…May I?” You direct at the wet nurse, and she doesn’t hesitate to hand you the child who is a mirror of Arra.

“Hello,” you greet him again a lot softer this time since he looks at you puzzled. “I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you. How old are you now? 1?”

You don’t expect an answer, but the baby does. “Hello.”

You beam at him and caress his head while you share a happy look at Cregan. “I can’t believe it. Words truly aren’t enough, Rickon is so big. I’m so proud.”

“He would’ve been out to greet you but you caught him in his naptime,” he says and steps towards you but keeps his distance.

“He looks like his mother,” you tell him and look back at Rickon, catching him taking the pearls around your neck. “Ah, yes, nice huh?”

“Hello,” he says again, making you laugh and turn to start heading to your quarters with the others trailing behind you. “My Aerion likes my jewelry too,” you tell him. “But he likes to suck on it. You just like to look at it, hm?”

“I reckon this little lord is a lot kinder than your Aerion,” Jacaerys teases as he falls by your side.

You roll your eyes at your brother and reassure Rickon. “Don't listen to him. He’s just mad because Aerion can sense his impatience. He’s very sweet, and I’m sure when he’s older you’ll be great friends. I’ll make sure of it.”

The baby is unbothered by what you say, but you couldn’t be more happier than to see Cregan and your friend's child. He reminds you of Arra, and when you think of Arra you think of where you are, and when you think of where you are all you feel is that comfort embracing you harder, consuming you little by little.

Which is dangerous, you know. The longer you stay here the more you let yourself get consumed by what’s familiar and kind that the reality in the distance becomes easy to forget.

But you can’t. You can��t let yourself feel complete comfort or you’ll run the risk of falling into the temptation you long for the most. Thus when you finish your bath you don’t linger in your borrowed quarters, nor do you explore what you left behind out of curiosity to see what’s new, you act as if you’ll be leaving any minute and visit where Arra was put to rest.

Yet that temptation finds you there and puts it all at risk. You don’t know about his looming presence until you turn away from Arra’s tomb.

“Lord Stark,” you gasp.

Cregan bows his head. “Forgive me I did not mean to startle you, I did not want to interrupt your moment that's all.”

You laugh nervously and glance back at Arra’s tomb. “If I did not visit her while I was here she would haunt me.”

Cregan hums and you stop avoiding his gaze to look into his grey eyes.

You had hoped to contain yourself, but in the silence that falls as you just look at one another, you can’t contain your joy, it takes over you and before you know it you’re beaming like a shining sun and striding over to him.

Cregan gives in the moment you break and meets you halfway with a tight and warm embrace.

“I had come to terms with not seeing you again,” Cregan breaks the silence first as he holds onto you.

“Me too. I really did not think I would see you again,” you murmur excitedly and hold on for longer than either of you wanted to. You just can’t seem to let go even if there's a shared silence in which you keep in words that you both are aching to say and just add tension.

“I…I’m happy to see you again,” he says instead and pulls back to face you

“You grew out your hair,” you point out to change the subject. “You said long hair was for barbarians.”

Cregan chuckles, and you smirk. “Well, I thought I could try it out,” he says. “And it keeps my neck warm.”

You study his brown hair that falls just above his shoulders and let yourself have this one thing. “I like it. It suits you well.”

Cregan offers you a thankful nod and takes this time to study you closely again. “You seem happier this time around,” he points out.

You scoff. “What are you saying? Did I look miserable when I got here six years ago?” You tease lightheartedly.

Cregan nods. “Yes. You did. This time you look happy though.”

You sigh and glance at the exit as if you’d see your brother. “Yes, well my brother is here. As annoying as he can be, I am happy he came with me.”

“Mhm.”

You smile softly in response and to avoid staring too long into his eyes you start to walk out. But for a few seconds as you walk aimlessly there’s a silence that lingers until he finds what to say. “Arra’s friend came to see me a few days after you left.”

You glance at him with a curious gaze and probe. “Why?”

He exhales deeply and confides in you what he hasn't had the heart to share in letters. “She came to blame me for her death. She said I was the reason she died.”

You come to an immediate halt, and he follows suit and slowly turns to face your sorrowful face.

“She was hurt, Cregan. It was not your fault. She was just grieving,” you try to comfort him even if he didn’t ask for it because you know how much guilt he already carries for Arra’s death and because you can't stand hearing him blame himself.

“Well, there is some truth to it is there not?” He says breathily and averts his gaze.

You draw in a deep breath and reach out, but before you can touch his arm you clasp your hands and fiddle with your ring. “No. There is not,” you say firmly. “Childbirth is not easy. I hate to admit it but her loss is common. It cannot be helped, so no it is not your fault. Arra’s friend was just grieving the woman she loved.”

Cregan blinks and meets your gaze with gratitude behind his perked lips but hesitation in his grey eyes. You don’t think he’s going to say anything and leave it as him just processing what you said, but as you continue walking side by side he finally interjects hesitantly.

“Your son…how is he?” He asks as if it pains him to actually ask.

You smile proudly. “Good. Spoiled endlessly by all the love my mother is giving him, but he’s good,” you muse. “I wish you could have met him.”

Cregan swallows thickly and finds it in himself to speak. “I wish I could have seen him too, I am sure he looks like you.”

You meet his gaze briefly and nod with glee.

There's so much you can say at this moment, but there’s also so much you can’t say that you end up in this battle of not knowing what you should do. Should you touch into this past that you need to keep closed? Or leave it all unspoken and just filled with tension that threatens to overflow and break you both?

No one would have to know. You could speak about this unspoken past you both cherish…But! Then you think of Aerion, and when you think of your son, you think of his father and once again, you still want to fight for this relationship even if you stand on opposite sides now.

Thus you leave it untouched and just lean towards something else.

However, when you speak Cregan’s name to address something else he also speaks your name, leaving you at a crossroads he luckily lets you cross first. “About why I came—”

“Did you come to sweet talk me, princess?” He cuts in and does assume right, but that’s not what you’re going to say.

“Maybe,” you laugh breathlessly and exhale deeply to get at what you want to say. “But look, I understand you’re needed here, your people are your priority. Winter is dangerous, which is why we won’t ask for a lot. We’re proud and honored to get your loyalty, but anything you can spare will help. We may have more dragons, but they lack experience in war, unlike Vhagar.”

Cregan nods in comprehension and does assure you honestly. “I meant when I said I’ll try. I want to help the Queen, I swear. Let me just see what I can spare, winter is not friendly, winter is cruel, you know that.”

More than most…and more than he knows…

“I know.” You agree softly. “How long will that take?”

He sighs and shrugs. “A couple of days. Not long. Why are you in a hurry?”

You drag your gaze over to pass him a knowing glance because he knows that your presence means much more than anyone knows, and it brings risks.

Still, he smirks faintly at you.

“I will say,” you admit and smile at him. “I am glad to be back in the North. I missed it. It’s so loud in Kings Landing compared to here. And the view from my chambers?!” You exclaim without a care in the world. “Over there it’s busy streets, and here it’s serene hills.”

Cregan chuckles softly. “I told you there’s no place for you so far South anymore. You bring your son here and it is over for you.”

You laugh and nod. “I do love the sun though, and a sea in which I can swim in!” You nudge his arm, and he leans to the side with a smile.

“I will bring the warm sea here, I told you.”

You snort and shake your head. “While I'm here we need to show Jacaerys some of the fun we would have. I want him to see some part of Winterfell before we leave.”

Of course, Cregan doesn’t argue, he gives in but when he meets your gaze from the corner of his eyes he grows sweet and smug. “Not all the fun though?”

You hold his gaze and shake your head. “No. Not all the fun.”

He hums and looks at you with a dangerous longing look that you quickly look away from.

“Ice fishing?” You suggest.

“You have an entire day to waste?” He brings up and clears his throat.

You hum in agreement and stroke your chin, unaware of the fact that you’re being walked into the great hall.

“Owl hunting?” Cregan teases in that stern nonchalance, and you can’t help but burst out laughing as you remember what he means by that.

“You think you’re funny huh?”

“You just laughed.”

You shake your head and grab his arm to laugh more and much harder.

“I can’t believe you fell for it the first time.” He keeps taunting you.

You stand tall and throw out an excuse. “I was young.”

Cregan looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed and you look at him and laugh again, unaware of how lost you were until you hear your brother.

“Sister. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

You blink repeatedly and catch your breath before you point back at where you came from. “I visited a friend, Arra, remember? I needed to go visit her resting place before we left.”

Your whereabouts don’t really matter anymore, he was worried when he knocked on your door and you didn’t answer, but now what he finds more interesting is who you walk in with. He looks between the both of you full of curiosity and takes note of the way you walked in laughing, as well as the smile you wear, and the faint one that decorates the Lord's lips.

“I hope you are both hungry,” Cregan interjects while you come to a stop in front of the grand table. “We had something prepared for your welcome.”

“That’s nice—”

“We’re starving,” you cut your brother off bluntly and make your way around the table. “Flying for so long isn’t only draining for our dragons, but for us too.”

You approach Jacaerys and he surprises you by pulling a chair out for you. “Oh,” you praise his gesture. “Thank you, Jace.”

When you sit though he doesn’t walk around Cregan's seat like he should have, he makes sure to sit at your other side, leaving you in between both men.

“<What are you doing?>” You demand to know in High Valyrian.

Jacaerys pulls in his chair close to the table and looks at you to whisper back. “<Sitting.>”

You blink and lean your head back with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “<Are you nervous?>”

He squints and rebuttals immediately. “<What? Why should I be?>”

You’re choosing to be too naive and pat his shoulder. “<Your big sister is here do not worry.>”

He swats your hand away, and you steal a glance over at Cregan taking his seat beside you

“How many days do you have to be here before your husband sends you a raven?” Jacaerys fills the silence.

At first, you don’t want to entertain his question, he’s only going to make fun of Aemond, but you give him an assumption to be nice. “Three days. The last thing he wrote was, ‘come home now. Your place is here.’ And that was before we left the Eyrie.”

Jacaerys leans in and continues. “Has he actually written that he misses you?”

You hold his gaze and part your lips to argue in your husband's defense, but those words have not been written on paper so you don't rebuttal Jacaerys, you deflect. “Have you tried to make a move on Baela?”

Jacaerys clenches his jaw and speaks through gritted teeth. “What are you on about?”

You grab the cup in front of you and shrug. “What? She is your betrothed, it's okay to sneak off and you know, have a little fun.”

“Stop it.”

You take a sip of your drink and lean towards him. “When we get home I will play a game and lock you both in a room—oh! No! I’m brilliant!” You exclaim and push yourself back, making him grimace.

“Shut up.”

“Nothing boosts romance more than a fun little adventure, just you and her alone,” you share excitedly without shame that you’re talking to your brother about romance as if he were a lady. The gods didn’t give you sisters, just five brothers, so you have to make the best of what you have. “I will throw you out of the castle to go fetch dragon eggs, or you know, something fun.”

“You’re childish,” he snaps at you under his breath.

You exhale deeply and sit back proudly. “And when your wedding comes I will be paralyzed with joy. Unless she marries one of our Velaryon cousins,” you finish in a whisper to just light a small fire under his ass.

“What?” Jacaerys asks in a shocked whisper, which you ignore to share an amused smile with Cregan.

“Princess,” you hear someone call before you see Lady Maribell approaching with servants carrying supper. “We made your favorite to welcome you and the Prince.”

You watch your plate get put down with a big appetite and then look at Lady Maribell and touch your chest. “Thank you, ma’am, I’ll make sure to savor it well.”

The lady bows her head and leaves the hall, letting you appreciate your supper and the fact that these people took the time to prepare your favorite meal by their own will, or for the wishes of someone else, you don’t know, but it’s a huge difference with the way you get treated in the Red Keep.

“I would like to make a toast,” Cregan’s voice booms throughout the hall as he stands up, pulling the attention of those gathered in the hall. “To the Prince and Princess. Welcome to Winterfell, you honor not only me but the entire North for coming in person in the Queen's regard…”

You smile up at Cregan before you share your joy with Jacaerys.

“Your stay will not be long, but we will do our best to make you feel at home,” Cregan continues before he looks over Jacaerys. “The North may be a drastic change, but it is beautiful. I hope you learn to grow fond of it just as much as your sister has.”

You don’t check Jacaerys reaction, you meet Cregan's gaze and follow him all the way down to his seat with a soft appreciative smile, while his own gaze softens…for a moment, because his gaze then drifts over your shoulder and it loses that gentle touch.

You follow his line of gaze and meet your brother's thankful but slightly narrowed look that he holds with a smile. And as to not make suspect something you raise your cup to him.

He returns the gesture before looking past you again, making you now look at your steaming food and let out a slow deep breath as you try to remind yourself to keep yourself contained. In doing so, albeit you remember the tragic dinner you had at King's Landing not many nights ago and you now start to feel amused by the memory.

You happen to let your gaze wander over to your brother in the midst, and he slowly locks eyes with you. Silence follows for a moment, but then as if mentally tangled with your thoughts you both start to giggle before you chuckle together.

“Man,” he says between laughs. “I wish I would have seen your right hook. I missed it!”

You cover your mouth and stifle the laugh you want to let out and respond. “He was so shocked! I was holding that in for so long!”

You snort and lean towards each other. “It was such a mess from the start, but I applaud your toast. That was smooth.”

“Really? Thank you, I think I landed it too.” He takes your compliment and you both laugh together again before he grabs your shoulder and turns you towards the man at your other side.

“Lord Stark,” he happily drags Cregan into the conversation. “Considering you are friends with my sister, I will tell you a great feat she completed a few nights ago on our last night at Kings Landing.”

You shake your head lightheartedly and lick your lips as you catch your breath.

“To make this story short, one thing led to another and my sister landed a right hook on the usurper,” Jacaerys shares, making the corner of Cregan's lips twitch.

“He slammed our brother's face into the table,” you try to give reason to your actions. “I acted. My rings helped too.”

Jacaerys laughs softly and you meet his gaze and smile wide.

“It seems like an impressive feat indeed,” Cregan says and lets his gaze linger on you. “But I cannot say it surprises me, your sister has never been one to recoil from such things. I’d say she's fond of it.”

“Too much,” Jacaerys remarks. “It is why she would always get in trouble.”

Cregan huffs softly and meets your gaze. “I only wish I could have seen it,” he says directly at you while also letting your brother hear.

You can’t help your deep breath, or stop your face from burning under his impressed gaze. You don't say anything but luckily that conversation leads to a lighthearted dinner where Jacaerys and Cregan start to talk more instead of just passing glances.

Unfortunately, you do the one thing you told yourself you didn’t want to do, and that’s losing yourself in the bliss that comes with interacting with your brother and Cregan, the man you…have a secret past with.

You thought you could do better, you wanted not to get lost at all, but it pulled you down rather quickly and you couldn’t fight it. Especially because there’s something about seeing Cregan interact with your brother without tension or disdain, that makes your heart swoon.

“Jacaerys,” you blurt and turn to him. “Let’s dance.”

His eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head before he answers. “What? No!”

You ignore him and jump from your seat to grab his arm and pull him with you to the center without as much as a protest. He likes to act all tough and nonchalant in front of others but he’s a big sweetheart when it comes to you and your brothers.

And he proves that further when he doesn’t fail to make you smile when you’re dancing slowly at first to follow the beat of the music that plays in the corner. When the music picks up he becomes faster but disregards the actual beat to start spinning you around the room.

“That’s not how you dance this!” You remark without much meaning behind your words. “You’re going to get me drunk!”

“You can handle it. You love it!” He assumes right and goes faster around the room without that initial worry of being judged or carrying this tough and proper image.

Neither of you actually find a worry in the world, it’s just him and you in that moment, laughing, and unaware of the pair of grey eyes that follow you all around the room. People talk to him, and a commotion surrounds him but Cregan finds a way to keep watching you laugh with your brother as he takes you around the room.

He should feel somewhat upset that your brother is bringing this different kind of joy out of you that he never saw when it was just you and him, but his heart only fills with bliss as he sees you so overjoyed. He knew how much you missed your family when you were living in Winterfell, so how can he be upset and petty that you’re so drunk with bliss by your brother's company?

Only a fool would refuse you this joy.

“Princess!”

You come to a quick halt and give your attention to the one who seeks it; catching Ser Rolf, one of your greatest friends just past the door.

“Ser Rolf!” You greet once you know who has beckoned you, and let your brother go to rush to your friend.

“I heard you were here and I came as fast as I could,” he says and answers your curiosity as to where he’s been before you had the chance to ask. “I almost feared I missed you.”

You shake your head. “No, you got lucky. Come!” You pull him with you to return to your brother. “Ser Rolf, this is my brother, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.” You immediately introduce them.

“My Prince,” Ser Rolf greets him properly.

“Jace, this is one of my greatest friends from here, Ser Rolf,” you explain. “He went to my engagement tourney and played in my honor.”

Ser Rolf scoffs. “Well, I needed to show off my skills, and not let you Southerners forget how talented we can be.”

You smile at him and you both purposely leave out the other reason why he had gone.

“It's nice to finally meet you,” Ser Rolf directs at your brother. “Your sister often spoke fondly of you and the rest of your family.”

“Did she?” Jacaerys presses and flashes you a smug smirk. “When we return to our brothers I’m proudly going to use that over her head.”

Ser Rolf laughs and nudges you, and you roll your eyes.

“Do you mind if I steal your sister from you, My Prince?” Ser Rolf asks.

Said man shakes his head. “Not at all, go ahead, I need to step out anyway. I will be back.”

You offer him a comprehensive smile and watch him leave the hall before you face your friend. “Are you going to dance with me?”

Ser Rolf scoffs. “No. Unless it’s a command.”

You smile in amusement and shake your head. “Never to you.”

“Good, I may be swift with a sword, but I'm afraid I'm not a gifted dancer. My wife can attest to that,” he breathes out and points his hand away from the crowd of people dancing to walk away together.

“How is your family?” You ask.

Your friend looks at you and smiles sweetly for the first time tonight. “Good. My girl is a year old and a delight. You have a son, I heard.”

You clasp your hands together and nod. “Yes, Aerion. He’s four months old, and his father's pride.” You share now that you can share it with someone since so many details about your son felt wrong being shared with Cregan.

“About…the father,” Ser Rolf picks on that matter as he sits around the first table you see. “I hope my actions in that tournament did not get you in trouble. I saw him later that night at a feast after the tournament was over.”

You sit down first and sigh before you shake your head. “No. Do not worry…was he…” you trail off and glance at the ring Aemond gave you to fiddle with it. “…with anyone?”

You can feel Ser Rolf press his gaze on you, but you avoid it and wait, even if you shouldn’t considering who’s occupying your mind now too.

“No,” Ser Rolf answers hesitantly, making your heart skip a beat. “He was lurking in the corner watching over the other silver-haired Prince.”

You swallow back nervously and meet your friend's gaze to press him since he didn’t sound convincing. “Tell me, Rolf. I can take the truth. I mean look at me, I’m on opposite sides of this war.”

Ser Rolf quickly shakes his head and looks at you with a pitiful look. “I swear it, Princess. He was lurking the entire night. When his brother brought in women and tried to gift him one as an engagement present, he finally left.”

You let out a relieved sigh and nod in comprehension, feeling a lot more assured now than before. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Of course.”

You feel it now…how much you’re starting to miss Aemond. Which is all so conflicting, but you admit it, you miss your husband, especially when it’s just you and him. That’s when he lets his guard down and lets out this person he keeps within; this sweet, affectionate, and amusing person that knows how to love you in the way you want to be loved, and knows the deepest parts of you, while he lets you know his.

He doesn’t hide his love for you in public, he's not overly affectionate but he makes it known that you’re all his and he’s all yours. And perhaps that makes you a little too attached to one another, but you take pride in it and never feel alone.

But…

Yes, there’s a but when you’re in Winterfell, when Cregan is close, and when he comes to mind. You can’t let Cregan go. The love you shared was so consuming, it was full of passion, it was exciting, and it had so much to give that no matter what, you could never get enough of one another.

But that's it isn't it? Was. You need to let go.

“How are you…holding up?” Ser Rolf breaks you from your troubled mind and only makes you confused. “With…you know…” he trails off and points to the side.

You follow his line of gaze and realize that he’s referring to Cregan.

“Rolf,” you warn him, making him laugh.

“He’s finally smiling,” he makes matters worse and makes you smile down at the table while your stupid heart skips a beat.

“He hasn’t been with anyone,” Ser Rolf clarifies and you snap your eyes at him and kick his shin.

“Stop.”

Rolf smirks and rubs his wounded area, while your eyes wander to the man you’re talking about, and you see him leaving the hall.

You almost find it in you to follow him out, but what will that bring? Nothing but temptation. You did good before when it was just him and you, but the stars are out, and the snow blankets the ground, it will feel like one of those nights when you would admire the sky in each other's embrace, and you’ll probably lose it, so you stay put and keep talking to your friend while also watching for your brother.

Eventually, more of Cregan's friends join Ser Rolf and you, but as much as you enjoy their company you can’t rest easy without knowing about your brother. He left a while ago and hasn’t returned. He would’ve told you if he went to bed, but he hasn’t. He said he needed to step out and hasn’t returned.

Maybe he froze out there since all he’s used to is a chill—but more seriously you should go check on him.

You stand up and just as you’re going to excuse yourself you catch your brother walking inside in front of Cregan.

They approach the table and you want to ask about your brother's whereabouts, but Cregan interjects. “I've decided we could take him hunting tomorrow morning and have lunch there, so he can know some of the North’s wilderness.”

You look at your brother and he gives you an assuring nod. And considering Cregan hasn’t given you an answer you have no choice but to accept. “Very well then.”

“I might’ve overshared with your brother just now,” Cregan continues to direct at you as you step back and sit back down.

“No, no,” Jacaerys shakes his head. “He glorified.”

You cross your leg over the other and press them. “What?”

Cregan glances at your brother and then looks back at you. “I might have praised your archery skills on dragonback.”

You smile at Cregan and pass your brother a cocky look. “It’s true. I am an excellent shot on Dragonback, but I cannot take all the credit, Astraea helps me when she flies. I think Lord Stark is just too in awe of the dragon itself.”

Cregan huffs and points his chin at you. “You are being too humble. You deserve the praise, not anyone can hit the target while moving, especially while flying. And you like to stand, which, that alone deserves its own praise.”

You shake your head. “You flatter me too much.”

“But I do suppose the same cannot be said about your traps. She almost caught her own leg once,” he shares a bit too amused. “Arra caught her in time.”

You shake your head. “It was not my fault,” you rebuttal. “You were distracting me. Hunting is done in silence and you distracted me.”

Cregan scoffs. “Are we talking about the same day?” He teases. “You are remembering wrong. I did not do such a thing.”

You touch your chest and slowly get up. “Lord Stark, are you calling me a liar?”

He shakes his head. “Admit it, you could have used help.”

You inhale deeply and nod. “Only if you admit you spoiled our bait for that fishing evening on your name day.”

Cregan parts his lips but he can’t deny you so he presses his lips together and nods slowly, causing you to nod in return, and share a mutual agreement to your questions through shared glances that you don’t break. There in the middle of your friends and brother, you look at each other as if it’s only you and him in that hall, in this world entirely. You exist only for each other.

Until the reminder tears it all down and pulls you back into reality. “Sister why don’t you sing us a song,” Jacaerys exposes you.

“What?” You gasp and ignore all the looks you get.

Jacaerys nods. “It seems fitting. It’s still early, I think it would be nice for you to fill the hall with your song.”

You blink repeatedly and shake your head quickly hoping he’ll get the hint, but he does the opposite as if purposely torturing you. “Wait…you have not sung here?”

You stay quiet and spare a glance at Cregan who is too amused by what’s going on.

“Wow…” Jacaerys trails off to chuckle before he faces the crowd of your friends and Cregan. “That is why she is called the Siren of Driftmark.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and groan.

“I thought you said it was because you were a good swimmer,” Ser Rolf points out.

You shake your head. “No,” you grumble.

Jacaerys moves over to you to grab your shoulder and shake you gently. “She’s really good. She sings all the time,” he praises you. “She just sang the other day when we got to Dragonstone.”

You shake your head and feign a smile. “No, no, my brother is being too nice. He’s exaggerating.” You laugh and then turn to your brother to shoot him a burning glare. “You’re exaggerating,” you sneer at him through gritted teeth.

Jacaerys chuckles and pushes you forward. “Sing us a song. Come on!”

You share a breathless chuckle and turn on your heels to point back at your brother. “I would not want you to cry,” you reveal and glance at the crowd. “When he was a boy he would hide at the back of the crowd so no one would see him cry when I sang.”

Jacaerys doesn’t give you the satisfaction of being flustered, he just smiles, and Cregan steps in.

“Come on, prove your name, princess.”

You pass him a glare and sigh deeply.

“Just one,” Cregan insists with a sweet and intrigued look that really makes it hard to say no to.

“Fine…” you give him brugrudgly. “But…I’ll sing a Sea Shanty. One father liked to sing with us, Jacaerys, so you can sing with me.” You smirk.

Your brother is quick though and shakes his head. “No, no, anyone happy enough can sing a Sea Shanty. Sing a different song.”

“You’ll be surprised not everyone can,” you murmur and stare at your brother with a piercing glare but don’t argue now. You’ll get nowhere, so you begin to step away from the crowd. “Only if you do it,” you protest and turn back to your brother.

“No,” he snaps.

“Do what?” Ser Rolf probes.

You grab your brother's arm and he gives your friend the answer. “Our father would present her to the crowd as if she was a famous singer before she sang.”

You nod eagerly and shake him, but he shakes his head to deny you of such a pleasure.

“I’ll do it,” Ser Rolf volunteers and takes you with him, but leaves you at the side as he runs to the center and steals everyone’s attention.

“Can I get everyone’s attention please! Tonight we have a special guest blessing this hall with her song! May I present the Siren of Driftmark!” He shouts and you don’t shy away or protest now, you run to the center, and bow to the crowd while you spread your arms out like a dragon spreads its wings.

“Hello, Winterfell!” You address the crowd and stand tall without a hint of smugness or your nose in the air to show your royal status, you show off a charm that hasn’t been seen in this hall and gains all the wavering attention to you, as if you were born to lead the masses. “Now, now I know what you may be wondering! Can she really sing, she’s never proved that to us! But,” you laugh softly. “I promise that I at least will not make your ears bleed.”

The crowd laughs and a warm look grows on the serious Lord’s face.

“This song goes to my brother who accompanies me this time around,” you let it be known so you don’t share all the attention. “And of course to your Lord Stark. Thank you for hosting us tonight, my friend.”

You flash him a smile and he nods gently in return, unable to keep his eyes off as you whisper to the band in the corner. He follows your every step with a curiosity that grows only as you clear your throat, take in the crowd that’s gathered in the hall, and draw out a deep breath, because after you part your lips and start to sing softly for all the crowd to hear, all he knows is complete awe as you grow louder and more enchanting with your song.

You become one with yourself and it makes it impossible for anyone to turn away, all the attention is on you as if you were a real-life siren. Yet no matter how many eyes watch you, how surprised and amazed everyone is, and how that prides you, all your attention falls on one man who only watches you with awe, because in this hall it’s just you and him once again.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Fishing has never been your strength, you enjoy the quality time when you go with someone, but besides that, you aren’t patient enough to wait for a fish to take the bait.

It’s why as you watch the blue fish in murky waters you make sure to stay out of the water as you slowly pick up your bow, and align your arrow, hoping it won’t hear you and swim off somehow.

Albeit the fish with blue scales moves, making you hold your breath and wait…

Good thing it just moves under the sunbeam that casts in the water. Now though, you do feel guilty for trying to kill it, it’s so beautiful, its scales glimmer a deep blue against the sun like the prettiest gems are stuck to it.

Yet a fish is all it is.

Before you can shoot though, the fish swims away quickly. “Damn, damn,” you hiss and move your aim along with its hasty movements to not let it get out of sight. And just before it can escape into the shallow river, you let the arrow go and luckily shoot the fish right through its eye.

“Haha,” you celebrate to yourself and throw your bow aside to pull your fur cloak off and leave it on the giant rock so it doesn't get wet when you step into the water.

“Oh,” you gasp at the icy touch and rush to grab the fish on the tips of your feet whilst letting out quick ‘oh’s at the cold touch of the water.

However, before you can attempt to turn and run out of the water you catch a branch snap behind you and stiffen.

There's only two people it can be, but you’re still so nervous that the Greens are going to find you that your mind panics and quickly makes you reach for your dagger around your belt.

When you hold the handle you slowly peer back and gasp when you just see Cregan. “Gods,” you breathe out and let the dagger go. “You startled me.”

Cregan finally walks out of the tree line and puts his hands up. “Forgive me, I didn’t want to interrupt your moment. Forgive me.”

You laugh nervously and walk out of the water with relief, and your trophy in hand.

“You’ve been on edge lately,” he points out as he watches you trade your trophy for your cloak.

You sigh. “With this impending war, my husband and his family have been insistent on getting me and Aerion back to King's Landing, that I fear they’ll be in every corner I turn,” you share as you hang your cloak around your shoulders.

Cregan drops his head and nods gently. “Well, no Greens will reach you here. You have my word.”

He looks up and you meet his gaze and offer him a gentle and thankful smile before you grab your arrow from the rock and show off your prize. “I promised my little brother Joffrey we would go fishing, but I think this way is more effective, do you not think?”

Cregan gets closer and tilts his head to the side to shrug. “Can’t say it’ll be called fishing if that’s the way you go.”

You scoff and flick your wrist to brush him off. “Sure it is, we will just use a bow and arrow to catch our fish. I don’t want to wait hours to get one on a hook.”

Cregan huffs and you take that as a challenge. “But I know fishing in the extreme is not for everyone.”

A faint smile breaks on his face and he remarks. “Who do you think you are talking to exactly?”

You shrug and pick up your bow to offer it to him. “Prove your skill, Lord Stark.”

Without further argument, Cregan takes the bow and narrows his gaze. “You know how much I hate it when you’re so formal with me,” he remarks.

You shoot him a simple teasing smile and let the bow go to fall by his side instead. “Alright there’s one right across from us,” you whisper as you hand him an arrow. “Quietly.”

Cregan aligns his arrow and tilts his head down toward you. “Who taught you to hunt?” He picks on your comment.

You lift your gaze, catching the gleam in his eyes, and giggle. His gaze lingers, threatening to drive your heart mad so you look down first and he follows your gaze to follow his prey. When he thinks he has the right angle to catch the fish he lets the arrow go, but the wooden weapon whizzes to the fish's side and only works to startle it away.

“Aha!” You blurt and grab his arm. “I told you. Skill!”

“Oh, hush you,” he brushes you off with a grin before he walks over to collect your arrow. “Oh, by the way, singing?! How come you never told me?”

You sit back on the giant rock and shrug. “One, because I was quite timid to sing to you,” you admit and make him smile at the ground. “And two…after my father died…I just lost my heart to sing. It did not feel right.”

Cregan steps out of the water and his smile fades to show his comprehension. “I understand,” he says quietly and puts your arrow bag in the leather holster.

“I would sing for my grandfather Viserys when I returned to the Red Keep, but I didn’t have a heart to sing until I had Aerion,” you muse as you miss your boy. “He made me find my voice again. And now he falls asleep to my song.”

“What a lucky lad,” Cregan says and steps toward. “You have a beautiful voice. I understand why you got your name.”

A warmth creeps on your cheeks and you smile at the rock beneath you. “Thank you,” you whisper. “And don’t take it as something I hid from you, you are just learning something new from me.”

He hums softly and adds. “It’s just a way to keep me on my toes, I respect that.”

You return his hum and blink to look over at him, catching his watchful gaze, and feeling at that moment a need to entrust him with something that’s been troubling you, something that didn’t satisfy you when you spoke about it to your grandmother.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask hesitantly. “If it makes you uncomfortable, tell me, all right?”

Cregan shifts in his stance and nods without hesitation. “It’s all right, go on,” he assures you to keep going.

You avert your gaze and fiddle with the ring that Aemond gifted you. “It’s just,” you breathe out and make sure Jacaerys isn’t approaching before you continue. “You’re the most loyal man I know. Your oaths are everything to you,” you tell him, making him slowly sit down beside you. “So can you tell me where my loyalties should lie? Should I return to my husband? Especially now that we have a child should I follow him blindly? Growing up, the Septa’s would plague me with how to be a good wife, Alicent makes indirect comments all the time, it's my job as a woman to be a loyal wife, but…” you trail off and look up at the sky and exhale shakily.

“I love my mother, I love my family, and I know she’s the one who belongs on the throne,” you continue to confide in him. “It was stolen from her, nothing will ever make me look at that differently. I will follow her rule, but…Aemond is my husband. He stands loyally on the other side, shouldn’t I stand by his side? Follow him blindly?” You ask from the depths of your torn heart and drop your gaze to look at Cregan with an aching look that wounds his heart.

“He might be your husband, and you may have a responsibility to him now that should come over your mother, but you still have your beliefs,” Cregan says with sincerity since he knows that all you need now is a friend, not a jealous ex-lover. “What you want still matters. And you know what you want to do, I hear it now, I see it with my own eyes. Don't betray yourself just because you don’t want to disappoint one or the other,” he reassures you softly and leans closer to you without actually touching your hand that’s pressed on the rock next to his, he doesn’t let his breath unfurl over your skin, or let his lips brush against your cheek. He just gets his face closer so you can feel his comfort.

“Would you do it?” You can’t help but ask. “Would you go against your wife if she was on opposite sides of a war?”

Cregan sighs deeply and doesn’t debate his answer, he nods, and you add something that pains him to hear because he knows what it really means. “Even if you loved her?”

Cregan swallows thickly but he doesn’t let his eyes fall, he nods stiffly. “If it was the right thing to do, yes. Even if it pained me.”

You drift your gaze away and nod, hoping you can beat the stinging in your throat, but tears fall from your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It will be okay.”

You sniffle and meet his gaze to probe speechlessly.

Cregan understands your gesture and nods, making you offer him a gentle smile and lean towards him. “Thank you, Cregan. It really means a lot.”

“Of course,” he says with a caring look that works to assure the doubt and lift the weight you’ve been carrying on your shoulders since you found out what happened.

“Thank you,” you add much to his surprise and yours while letting yourself grab his hand. “For loving me.”

Cregan stares at you for a lingering moment with his eyebrows furrowing and unknotting with every emotion that runs through his mind and makes his heart race. “I would do it again, it was my honor,” he speaks softly.

Your bottom lip trembles but you don't cry, you let your head fall on his shoulder for a brief second to express the deep unspoken love that you’ll never actually be able to let go. It’ll forever be scarred in your soul.

And that’s all you could ask for in this world full of horrors. Even if there's no proper goodbye, and there’s so much left untouched, this moment is all you could ever want, it welcomes a comforting silence that brings a smile to your face as you both watch the serene environment.

“We should find your brother,” Cregan breaks the silence after a long moment of being selfish.

You hesitate for a moment but you slide off the rock and collect your stuff before you lead the way back into the forest.

“Do you…” Cregan starts to say while he helps you by carrying the fish you caught. “Still dream of flying to faraway places?”

You keep your eyes out for your brother and purse your lips together as you sigh. “Would you be disappointed if I said I did? Only sometimes though.”

Cregan chuckles. “No, of course not. I’m glad you still do. Where to?”

You suck in air and twirl around to face him as you walk back. “Maybe,” you breathe out and happily share what he wants to know. “Yi Ti. I was given this beautiful gem necklace from there and I’ve been completely enamored by the place ever since. It’s said princes live in solid gold houses.” You nod eagerly, making him scoff.

“My most favorite gowns are made of silks from Yi Ti,” you muse and turn back around on your heels. “Some I have yet to wear because I have been saving them. Hopefully, I get to wear one soon! Don’t worry though my feet are still on the ground,” you make sure to assure Cregan. “I have not forgotten what I learned here.”

You hear him hum before he mutters. “I’m quite curious about these expensive gowns.”

Your breath catches in surprise and you peer over to shoot him a pointed look. He responds by flashing you a charming smile that makes you roll your eyes and hold back your smile.

Thankfully in that next moment, you spot your brother in the distance and force all your focus on him.

Jacaerys doesn’t seem to spot you right away though, so after a quick and brilliant idea hits you you leave Cregan behind to sneak around Jacaerys. Once you get close and he’s made some distance from the tree you’re hiding behind, you slip out and avoid stepping on all the branches and dry leaves. When you’re close enough you bite back your smile and raise your hands to jump on his back, but much to your misfortune he’s too perceptive and ruins your plan. “I saw your foot behind the tree.”

You blow out air and drop your arms with a pout. Jacaerys turns and spots Cregan walking out of the shadows first before he faces you and shows off the rabbits he caught. “What did you catch?”

You frown deeper and point at the single fish, making him chuckle. “That’s all?! I thought you were some great hunter!”

You roll your eyes and sputter out an excuse. “Well, I did see some rabbits but I didn’t want to kill them, they were adorable.”

And you can’t say Cregan distracted you either, for the most part, you were just walking and taking in the sights you left behind last year.

“Uh-huh.” Jacaerys nods with a smug smile on his face. “Sure,” he quips. “You are such a girl.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off before you get ahead of the group and lead the way to a distant clearing where you’ll have lunch. “A few months back,” you share to fill the silence and avoid your previous topic. “I was at the market street and on our way back I ran into this Red priestess.”

“A witch,” Jacaerys corrects you, causing you to turn around and counter.

“No, a red priestess. Calling them witches is kind of mean.”

Jacaerys scoffs and turns to Cregan for support. “I say witches, what do you call them here, Lord Stark?”

Said man grabs his blade hooked on his belt and meets your brother's gaze with a hidden smugness behind his eyes. “Witches, but sometimes we call them pretenders, depending on the price.”

Jacaerys chuckles and you know they’re obviously just working against you so you choose to ignore the negativity and go on. “Anyway!” You exclaim and twirl back around. “She told me my future. She said…” you leave them with anticipation for a few seconds before you share what you were told. “I would have seven kids.”

“Gods,” Jacaerys murmurs.

“Mhmm.”

“Now,” Jacaerys cuts in and rushes over to fall by your side, leading Cregan to fall on your other side—“Who will give you all these children if your husband dies in this war?”

Without as much as thinking you turn to your brother and nudge his chest to make him think it’s something you planned when really you’re just teasing him. Kind of. “You. We could get married.”

Your brother's face falls and he immediately shakes his head and turns you down bluntly. “No. I would not marry you.”

“Oh right, there’s Baela,” you point out and grab your chin as you think deeply. “Well…I could take her. She’s quite terrifying, but yes,” you nod and look back at your brother. “I can take her in both a dragon fight and hand-to-hand combat…I think.”

Jacaerys' nose scrunches and he shakes his head again. “No, I would not marry you! You are…you.”

You look around confused and pick on that considering your house is known to marry within the family to keep the bloodlines pure. Aegon and Helaena are married.

“So?”

Jacaerys parts his lips but he can’t think of a strong argument that will beat the truth. Yet you do take a good look at Jacaerys and find an excuse. “You are right,” you mutter. “We could not, I do favor taller men, thus maybe...” you trail off to think, leaving Jacaerys offended by your bold comment.

“A Prince from Yi Ti with a house made of gold,” Cregan finishes for you, making you snap your eyes at him and smile slowly in amusement.

“Funny,” you hold back your laugh. “Very funny.”

He rolls his head down and hides his smile.

Gods laughing with him is so much better in person. He can be very funny in a serious way that only makes what he says or does that much funnier.

“She also let me see in the fire,” you continue to share more excitedly now. “And what I saw was a girl—”

“Wait, wait,” Jacaerys cuts you off and wipes away his smile. “Now when this priestess of yours talked to you, was she on the other side of this fire?”

You look away and bite your cheek before you lie by shaking your head as a response.

Albeit Cregan knows you well and points you out. “Liar.”

“Yes, fine!” You exclaim and gently nudge him away. “She was at the other side, but it was not her that I saw, it was a girl with silver hair,” you catch your brother's serious attention now. “She…stood on top of a mountain covered in snow, ashes, and death.”

Cregan’s own amusement falls and your brother doesn’t dare to tease you now, so you go on.

“All brought by…<A long winter,>,” you finish in High Valyrian to mirror the way the Red Priestess told you before you repeat in the common tongue. “A long winter.”

Both men look at you but one doesn’t look at you with disbelief, nor fear, he’s serious and deep in thought, while your brother lets out a dry laugh and shakes his head to try and deny what you shared.

“I believe it,” you defend yourself and what you saw in that fire because it was clear as day as if you were seeing a memory that hasn’t happened.

“I also believe what this old man said about Ice dragons living past the wall,” you tell your brother, and Cregan interjects right away.

“Old man Thomas is known for tall tales. There are things that are true, but what he says is not.”

You shrug. “He’s well-traveled, why wouldn’t it be true?” You rebuttal and lean towards him.

“Because,” Cregan argues and leans towards you. “He likes attention. And he’s drunk all the time.”

“A drunk man is less likely to lie, you know that because you don’t lie when you’re drunk.”

His lips twitch and before he can respond with something in his defense his eyes turn to your brother at your other side. You discreetly follow his line of gaze and catch your brother's attention so you play it off quickly.

“All I’m saying is I believe what I saw, it may not happen in our lifetime, but it’s in our future,”

A short silence follows that only works to make you grow nervous over what your brother might’ve just thought. But he thankfully brushes you off.

“Maybe but you probably got ripped off by a fake witch.”

Once again you choose to ignore this negativity spouted by your brother and instead drift your attention to lunch, and since Cregan was more in charge of guiding Jacaerys, he didn’t catch anything. All you have is the single fish you caught and the rabbits Jacaerys caught, but neither one of you wants to skin them, so you eat a small lunch and share the fish over a quite fun moment where you, unfortunately, don't receive an answer from Cregan, regarding what he’s willing to offer your mother.

You hoped he’d finally say it during supper, but supper came and passed, and nothing. That lack of response followed until the next two days too, leaving your brother quite impatient now.

“What have you told him?” Jacaerys greets you ever so warmly.

“What have I told who?” You pretend to act clueless while you pick a square cake from the tray and study it before you plop it into your mouth.

“Lord Stark,” he snaps.

You knew he was getting to that since you spotted him stomping over to you and Astraea, but you had hoped he wouldn’t get to it yet.

“It's been days and you said you would talk to him! We don’t have days to waste,” he remarks and spats out your name before going on to give you a mean reminder. “We need to leave and we have nothing.”

You don’t intend to sit up or fix your gaze on your brother, you keep yourself against your dragon's large arm and respond calmly. “He promised he would give us an answer—”

“When?” Jacaerys cuts you off and crouches down to take the tray of cake from you. “When?”

You drag your eyes up and nonchalantly answer. “He cannot pull the army out of his ass, Jacaerys. We have to wait, if he promised he would do something he is going to do it.”

Your brother rolls his eyes and turns away to let out a frustrated breath. “There's a difference between saying a promise and actually committing to it. I do not know how close you are or if you have actually talked to him, but you need to figure something out, that is why you are here.” He mutters.

You watch him knowing that he has a right to be annoyed, Lady Arryn gave you her answer quite quickly, and you’ve been in Winterfell for days but still haven’t received a word on what Cregan will give to support his Queen, but you also trust Cregan, you know he’s going to do what he says, you just need to wait.

“I’ll talk to him again,” you assure him. “If he doesn’t give anything then we’ll return home with his simple loyalty.”

Jacaerys rests his hand on his hip and lets out a deep breath. “All right, that sounds good.”

You sigh and nod, letting a silence linger for a moment before you lean forward. “Can I get those back?”

“What?” He breathes out and turns all dramatically with his cloak twirling with him.

“My cake pieces,” you point at the tray in his hand with your eyes.

Jacaerys passes you a judgmental look before he leans over and lets you take the tray he took.

“Aemond found me,” you let him know of the raven that came to you this morning. “He said ‘come home at once’. Shorter than the last one but still persistent.” You giggle.

Jacaerys walks over to sit next to you against a sleeping Astraea. “Will you?” He asks with genuine curiosity.

You take a cake piece and shake your head. “No…our mother belongs on that throne and I am going to stand by that,” you say confidently now that you know where you want to stand. “He can try to take me by force if he wants, but I am going to fight for her.”

Jacaerys looks over at you with a faint smile and nods in comprehension. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You mirror his smile and offer him a piece of cake. As he takes one a memory creeps in and your smile widens before you can tell it to him. “Do you remember a few years ago, when Lucerys disowned me because he thought I ate the last piece of lemon cake?”

Midchew Jacaerys loses himself in thought before he snorts, spitting out pieces of cake, and causing you to scrunch your nose in disgust.

“Ew,” you grumble and he interjects abruptly.

“Yes! I remember he’s like you cannot be my sister anymore because you are selfish and you ate it all!” He mocks your younger brother.

You giggle and nod, but before you can add to that shared memory Astraea suddenly raises her head, bringing Jacaerys and you to a pause to look over; noticing none other than Cregan approaching.

When he’s near he bows his head and greets the both of you on the ground. “Good day, my princess, my prince.”

You smile at him and greet him for both Jacaerys and you. “Good day. It is nice to see your face today, we ate lunch and breakfast alone.”

Cregan bows his head again. “I am terribly sorry, I have been busy all day, I only barely got out.”

You remember his long days, on some terribly long ones, he wouldn't be let out until it was time to go to bed. You would usually meet him in his chambers on those days and just lay down enjoying each other's company. Today all you can do is look at each other as nothing but old friends.

“I hope your day has not been dull,” Cregan worries.

You shake your head. “No, we were just reminiscing about a day of our childhood when,” you snicker and go on. “Our little brother Lucerys disowned me because he thought I ate the last piece of lemon cake.”

Jacaerys nods and continues the story for you. “We both knew there was more so she pretended to leave. Our mother came in a few moments later with more and Lucerys completely freaked,” Jacaerys laughs and stands up as if that would change the way he was telling it. “He started bawling and ran out to look for our sister.”

“When he found me,” you finish the story. “He’s like I am so sorry, I never meant what I said. Come back, do not leave us. You can have as much cake as you want!” You finish with a laugh and Jacaerys joins you.

“That sounds like quite a memory,” Cregan says and reaches out to pat your dragon's snout since she leans towards him with dilated eyes. “Did your mother say anything?”

You and Jacaerys stare at one another in search of the answer, but you can’t recall.

“Not that I remember,” you mention and look back at Cregan. “But it was quite a memory. Lucerys is a sweetheart.”

Cregan hums and Astraea groans softly in response to his touch.

“Oh, maybe you needed something, my Lord?” Jacaerys only asks now.

“Well,” Cregan sighs. “I only wanted to invite the both of you to Castle Black on the morrow so you could see the wall, My Prince. Just before you leave, that is.”

You and your brother share a hopeful look and even if Jacaerys was quite impatient to leave, now he accepts Cregan's invitation. “I have always wanted to see the wall. It would be a pleasure.”

“Good, we will leave at first light then.” Cregan lets you both know and leaves you hoping for a good response that will hopefully make your mother proud.

A/N- Who’s the 2nd heart of fire? A new character we’re getting soon, or someone else

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

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thewriterwithnoplan · 10 months ago

Text

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

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