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l-uminescent · 4 months ago

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˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(

warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)

word count: 3.9k

ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky.

for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.

however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.

the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen.

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the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face.

you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young.

"i will go."

the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go.

"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing.

looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it."

her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.

another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."

you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes.

you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield.

"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.

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silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her.

flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up.

"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."

as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her

a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.

the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain.

a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.

despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.

aemond taragaryen had come out to play.

your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky, hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread.

in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.

flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done.

"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach.

unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour.

nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.

reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way. to kill the dragon you must kill the rider.

your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal.

none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours.

gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."

with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both.

allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.

pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do.

holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.

jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.

and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.

but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.

the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.

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shesjustanothergeek · 6 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch Masterlist

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader| ft. Yandere Aegon and Alicent

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

"I have outlasted all desire,

My dreams and I have grown apart;

My grief alone is left entire,

The gleamings of an empty heart.

The storms of ruthless dispensation

Have struck my flowery garland numb,

I live in lonely desolation

And wonder when my end will come."

Chapter One: My Dream

Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

Chapter Three: The Long Night

Chapter Four: Before the Storm

Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen

Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryen’s Youth

Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Chapter Nine: Time Mends the Broken

Chapter Ten: The Black Council

Chapter Twelve:

Chapter Eleven: The Weight of a Crown

Chapter Thirteen:

Chapter Fourteen:

Chapter Fifteen:

Chapter Sixteen:

Chapter Seventeen:

Chapter Eighteen:

Chapter Nineteen:

Chapter Twenty:

Chapter Twenty-One:

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Chapter: Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Chapter Thirty:

Chapter Thirty-One:

Chapter Thirty-Two:

Chapter Thirty-Three:

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Chapter Thirty-Five:

Spotify Playlist

The reader does have a name (no use of it) for the sake of titles and the typical Targaryen/Strong features, but other than that, descriptions are vague.

All House of the Dragon/A Song of Ice and Fire warnings apply, but I will put specific ones with each chapter.

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madame-fear · 3 months ago

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Imagine lucerys being betrothed to sunshine!reader😭💕 her parents meet with Rhaenyra when she becomes queen to arrange a marriage between lucerys and their youngest daughter, she’s just curious about everything because her parents never let her experience what her older sisters did because they sheltered her at a young girl age but she loves talking and making new friends. She’s so bubbly when greeting everyone like the Targaryens, and she’s not even scared of them because she believes that every one has kindness. And she’s so fascinated by dragons, she immediately comes to look at them and Arrax and Syrax actually like her and Rhaenyra just loves her because she’s kinda like the daughter she’s never had!!

AHHSHHSHD NONNIE thank you for feeding my mind with this !! i literally CAN’T get over this !! 😭

okay but literally imagine, I think everyone would be delighted by how bubbly & endearing you are. First thought I had beforefinishing to read the message, is that Rhaenyra would absolutely ADORE you the very second you greet her in a most respectful manner, with a wide toothy grin growing on your lips— it would take Nyra no time for her to treat you as her own daughter,, she would basically have you under her wing from that very moment.

Knowing that Luke is a little bit shy, I can picture him helplessly smiling at how lovely you simply are. Initially, he would be overwhelmed... But in a good way, of course! Much like his mother — and basically the rest of his family —, Luke would immediatly be swooped off his feet at the sight of, simply, how much of a kind young girl you are, and incredibly respectful as well to each one of his family members, and to him.

I can definitely see Lucerys offering you his arm to walk you around King’s Landing, or the Red Keep, for you to know your way around as you both gleefully chat. In a way, your personality wouod match perfectly with Luke’s— being the one to take him out of his shell, and swiftly improving his mood at the sight of your presence in the same room as he is in.

And since you have a great curiousity for dragons, and they have grown fond of you, perhaps even booping their snouts against your face playfully, Lucerys would take you to the dragonpit to greet them rather often. The way your eyes are simply impressed by the sight of these huge beasts is a loving sight to behold— and he’s most definitely the type to take you on dragonrides on whichever opportunity he has to do so; adoring the way your warm body eagerly holds him as the air delicately hits on your face whilst riding Arrax.

You are just perfect to be the Lady of the Tides, and I’m certain he would be thanking the Seven for gifting him such a wonderful little sunshine as his betrothed.

NONNIE THIS IS NOT ENOUGH,, I LITERALLY NEED TO WRITE A ONE-SHOT ABOUT THIS, WITH YOUR PERMISSION. 🙇‍♀️

#彡 ꒰ ✒ amira writes ; lucerys velaryon.── ꒱#lucerys velaryon x reader #luke velaryon x reader #lucerys x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #sunshine!reader #┆ ⤿ 💌 come chat with amira .ᐟ ୭ #lovely anons <3 #ask box #ask box messages #ask box open #✧.* amiraverse

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bumblesimagines · 5 months ago

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One More Hour

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Summary: As a child, Jace learns the hard way not to mess with his young uncle, Aemond. However, as growing man, he can't help the newfound curiosity.

CW/TW: Targcest/incest (Jace and reader are uncle-nephew), typical Got and HOTD warnings, Jace might feel OOC, takes place in s1, unknown age gap but Jace is like 18/19 and (Y/N) in his early to mid twenties, kinda cheating? (Jace and Baela).

AAHEEEM.

~~~

Jace could do nothing more than stare at his plate with his fists resting over his thighs, one ear listening to the annoying whispering from his uncle while the other desperately tried focusing on the conversations floating around the room. The tension had lessened significantly since everyone first settled down at the dining table for the first time in many years but it did little to prevent Aegon from being a bother. It certainly didn't help that across the table sat his other uncle, (Y/N), who watched the two of them with immense amusement.

He'd changed since Jace last saw him. No longer a child on the verge of teenagehood but a man-grown talented in sword fighting and the art of making ladies swoon. His silver locks looked vibrant in the warm candlelight and each time Jace glanced upward, his grew captivated with the twinkle of his violet eyes. (Y/N) appeared poised, relaxed and content, with a cup of wine in his hand that he occasionally sipped from as dinner continued. His eyes flickered between observing Jace and checking on his twin, Helaena.

Jace still vividly remembered the only proper interaction he'd ever had with (Y/N), for the Targaryen often kept to the library or hung around his twin whilst she worked on her embroideries or played with bugs. The two never strayed too far from one another, so much so that it'd surprised Jace when he'd heard the news of Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

It'd been a warm day full of joy and wonder as Jace and Luke had welcomed their newest baby brother into the family, a sleepy little newborn by the name of Joffery. Of course, despite the wonderful addition to their family, Jace and Luke had plotted with Aegon to prank their uncle, Aemond, whose dragon egg had refused to hatch in the cradle. It was a subject of teasing for them all, harmless and playful in Jace's opinion, but it seemed like not all believed a clumsily put together wings on a pig and offering it over to Aemond had been a fun prank.

Roughly fifteen minutes had passed and the boys all continued giggling and laughing about it, recounting the look on Aemond's face between snickers, when the door was pushed open and in walked (Y/N) with Helaena trailing behind, her hands cupped and cradling a spider. She barely batted an eye at them, even when (Y/N) strolled up to his older brother and slammed his knee into his groin, only muttering quietly to herself about things the boys couldn't quite understand.

Jace's amusement in Aegon's pain as he toppled over with a low groan was short-lived, as (Y/N)'s hand curled into a fist and swiftly connected with Jace's jaw. He'd landed the hit well and hard enough for Jace to topple onto the floor as well, crying out in pain as he held a hand to his slowly bruising jaw. Little Luke had attempted to jump to his brother's defense but his smaller frame was easily pushed onto the floor and angry tears sprang into his eyes.

In the end, Rhaenyra and Alicent had argued over who was in the wrong whilst King Viserys lectured them on fighting outside of training.

But Jace thought of the interaction often, thought of how cool (Y/N) had looked bringing his brother to his knees so easily. Even though his jaw tingled each time the two made eye contact, Jace couldn't help the awe that bubbled in his chest. (Y/N) appeared fully in his element, only observing and providing little input throughout dinner. Regal and with looks that spoke for themselves, such as the one he sent Aegon that forced the older boy back into his chair with a scowl. Otto smiled approvingly. The favorite of his grandchildren, Jace assumed.

Dinner, however, ended with an outburst covered up to be a speech from Aemond with thinly veiled insults. Their parentage had always been a sore topic for the Velaryon boys and his temper got the best of Jace, prompting him to lash out and cause a stirrup that forced the night to end with all the children instructed to head to their respective bedchambers.

Jace, of course, fumed all the way to his and Luke's temporary shared bedchambers, although he couldn't find a wink of sleep in his simmering anger and humiliation. Luke had already nearly been brought to tears when their blood had been put to question for courtiers to see by Vaemond Velaryon, they hardly needed a repeat. So, when sleep proved to be a hopeless desire, Jace slipped out into the halls and reacquainted himself with them until he noticed his uncle leaning against the railing of one of the balconies.

"Uncle," Jace greeted him quietly, the chill of the cool night air bringing goosebumps to his skin. (Y/N) spared him a glance, his attention more captivated by the sky. When Jace squinted through the dark and clouds above, he noticed the silhouettes of two dragons flying together, almost playing from the soft rumbles and half-hearted nips. "Dreamfyre and Grey Ghost get along well, it seems."

"Sometimes I wonder if they're bonded, as Helaena and I are." (Y/N) responded, his voice gentle and soothing to the ear. His eyes tracked the two dragons until they disappeared well above the clouds, finally diverting his attention to his nephew. Jace swallowed under his keen gaze. "The hour is late, Jacaerys, yet you are up."

"So are you."

"You've seen my reasons." (Y/N) nodded toward the sky. "What are yours, little prince?"

The heat that enveloped his face surprised Jace. "I... I could not sleep." He answered, and hoped the darkness around them hid his reddened skin from the Targaryen. Not many brought such a reaction to him. Sure, there were pretty ladies at court who caught his eye, his newly betrothed among them, but such intense heat...

"Aemond only meant to anger you and you gave him precisely what he wanted. He wishes to get even for what happened in our youth now that he's capable of protecting himself." The rings adorning his fingers glimmered in the moonlight, drawing Jace's gaze to them before it flickered back to his face.

"We were children." Jace insisted.

"But not toddlers incapable of knowing right from wrong." (Y/N) lifted his brows and Jace fell silent, cheeks puffing out slightly when he scoffed quietly. The Targaryen reached out toward him, fingertips grasping his jaw and running along it until they reached the exact spot his knuckles had met years prior. He grinned. "I taught you a lesson because of it, didn't I, sweet nephew?"

Jace shivered, unable to tell if the goosebumps were still from the cold or his touch. The cool metals of his rings pressed against Jace's warm skin, the designs engraved in them leaving marks when his hold tightened. His instincts screamed at him to pull away, to create distance between himself and (Y/N), for the gleam in his violet eyes only spelled trouble. Jace remained still, however, unable to break away from the trance.

"Velaryon seed is strong," (Y/N) murmured, his hand moving to touch the brown strands Jace had inherited from his real father, from Harwin Strong. He'd accepted it long ago. He was no fool. If Laenor Velaryon had truly been his father, he and his brothers would share the signature Targaryen look; those beautiful silver locks. "You are no Velaryon, Jace. But your mother's blood makes you a Targaryen."

"I was raised Velaryon." Jace nearly growled despite the feelings swirling inside him. "My father, Laenor, cared for us-"

"Fuss all you want, Jace. We all know the truth." (Y/N) clicked his tongue and drew closer, hand slipping back to grab his jaws again and hold them, fingertips sinking into his skin with an iron grip that'd likely leave questionable bruises. His lips curled upward in some twisted mix of delight and curiosity. "You may not be Velaryon but you are pretty. I'm sure Father would've insisted you and I wed if you'd been born a lady." He leaned in close enough for their noses to bump and whispered lowly, "You would've been swollen with a babe by now if that'd been the case."

Jace gaped at him, heat spreading through his body like dragonfire and making his breeches abruptly feel far too tight. His brows knitted together and his hands flew up to slam against (Y/N)'s chest. His uncle willingly released him and stepped back with a short laugh that echoed through the hall. "What makes you think I would've wished for that?" He bristled despite the redness on his cheeks and aching in his stomach.

"Look at yourself, darling nephew," (Y/N) cooed, invading Jace's personal space again and forcing him against the railing, the roughness of the stone pressing against Jace's palms when he clung onto it. A strangled gasp escaped the brunette when (Y/N)'s hands grasped the underside of his thighs and lifted them, pressing Jace against him. Jace failed to swallow the whimper in his throat when (Y/N) moved his hips against him. Fear invaded his veins at the realization (Y/N) could easily push him over the edge and into an untimely death but it mixed deliciously with everything else.

"You-"

"What is it, Jace? You look so red." (Y/N) snickered. He truly was the brother of Aemond and Aegon. "Imagine what sweet Baela would think if she saw you like this. I'm sure she'd be horrified and humiliated by her future husband."

"Fuck you." Jace spat, the grooves and bumps in the railing digging into the skin of his hand. (Y/N) quirked a brow and released Jace's thighs, making him stumble as he regained his footing and released a heavy exhale of relief. His uncle clasped his hands behind his back and chuckled again.

"If that's how you feel, nephew, then I'll bid you goodnight. Safe travels." (Y/N)'s smile morphed into one that could be mistaken for genuine and kind before he turned and headed down the hall to his bedchambers. Jace stared after him, feeling breathless and angry and so annoyingly aroused.

Digging his teeth into his lip, he peeled himself from the railing and followed the older prince to his bedchambers, his annoyance growing at the way (Y/N) ignored his presence yet allowed him inside his bedchambers. The door slid to a close behind him and Jace's heart fluttered at the smirk (Y/N) sent him over his shoulder. Jace lunged forward, bawling up the collar of his shirt in his hands and tugging him closer, their lips slamming together and teeth almost clacking.

(Y/N)'s bit Jace's lip hard enough to draw a trickle of blood and leaned back. "Behave." He huffed at him. Jace smirked, the blood smearing on his teeth.

"I don't think so."

It'd been a near hour later when sleep finally crawled up his spine and threatened to lull him into a deep slumber. His lips felt swollen and tinted red from blood; the skin across his body was littered with suckled bruises and teeth marks; his jaw and hips ached with a burn Jace had never felt before; his throat felt hoarse and in desperate need of rest. Thoroughly exhausted and with the events at dinner temporarily erased from his mind, just as he wanted.

(Y/N) remained laying on top of him with his chest pressed to Jace's back and made no move to release Jace from his tight hold. Jace hardly minded despite the aching and the part of him that whined for milk of the poppy to soothe him. His cheek nuzzled against the spit and sweat-drenched pillow, hardly paying attention to anything other than the feeling of (Y/N) on and in him.

"What a shame." (Y/N) purred teasingly, his breath tickling Jace's ear. "I thought it'd take a little more to break you."

751 notes · View notes

cherriready · 4 months ago

Text

By order of the King

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader, Helaena Targaryen x Niece!Reader (Possibly in the future), Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader (Possibly in the future)

WC: 2.4k

Summary: Amidst political turmoil and family feuds, the only and eldest Velaryon daughter, struggles through a tumultuous marriage arranged for strategic gain that quickly escalates into betrayal and tragedy. As she grapples with grief and tensions mount, she faces heartache and sorrow, she grapples with her future as a looming conflict threatens to engulf her in a web of deceit and fear.

Warnings: Mature themes, sexual content (mentioned and lightly described), power dynamics, toxic relationship, violence and death, incestuous overtones, emotional turmoil, psychological themes, character deaths, ambiguous morality.

If you wish to be tagged let me know :)

Not only was war about to break out, ready to blow everything up — including the Targaryen dynasty. Her damn marriage of convenience was also about to explode.

It was King Viserys, her grandfather, who proposed the marriage between his eldest granddaughter and his second son, Aemond Targaryen. The idea was not well-received by any of the black team's supporters, especially Rhaenyra Targaryen, but having to ensure that her son Luke was the heir to Driftmark, she had to give in and betroth her firstborn and only daughter, her dear baby girl.

Not everything was disadvantageous, since having her younger half-brother married to her daughter would bind and commit the greens to seeing her as the future queen.

Or so they all briefly thought, until the King's death.

"The rift in our family will heal, and we will be more united." This was what Viserys the Peaceful said, with difficulty, as he received Rhaenyra and Daemon, and all their progeny, at court for the first time in six years.

The wedding was held that same afternoon, privately. Only the closest to the king attended the ceremony. His children, his wife, his grandchildren, his nieces, the Hand, and Princess Rhaenys. Shortly after, he succumbed to pain, having to be taken to his quarters where he drank milk of the poppy to be able to sleep.

The Hightowers thought this would benefit their discussion about Driftmark's inheritance the next day. Without the king present, they could declare Vaemond Velaryon as heir to his brother, the Sea Snake, who was still hovering between life and death. And, in a way, they could more freely insinuate the illegitimacy of Rhaenyra's elder children. Killing two birds with one stone.

"Now you are a recognized Targaryen, despite your illegitimate descent, wife." These were the first venomous words Aemond addressed to his now wife for the first time in years. "I will make sure you do not follow your mother's path, that the children you carry in your womb are mine, and no one else's." He murmured, while caressing his wife's dark hair, a certain warmth and delicacy in the act.

"I would never think of it, my prince." She whispered, carefully watching his movements as he circled her.

As if she were his prey.

"Do you know what comes next? What is expected of you on our wedding night?" He asked, tilting his head, once he stood in front of her.

"To consummate our union, to give you an heir."

"Hm." He hummed. "I will not be harsh with you, I will be gentle. Until you ask me not to be."

There was no love between them, not even the slightest hint of the friendship that once existed in their childhood. She would be lying if she said he did not keep his word. He was not rough or harsh with her, but considerate and gentle. The union brought something she did not expect, pleasure.

She felt a lot of pleasure; he gave her pleasure. She supposed it was to keep her satisfied, so she wouldn't seek comfort in another man's arms, thus avoiding the possibility and shame of bastards.

Bastards of a bastard, it sounded ironic.

Once he finished inside her, after making her climax three times, he caressed her face, looking attentively at how her face reflected pleasure and satisfaction. Then he got off her, dressed, and left her alone in her room, without a word.

A few days later, her mother, her brothers, Daemon, and her stepsisters had to return to Dragonstone, leaving her in that place infested with snakes and traitors — without knowing what was to come.

Her grandfather died that very night, and the next day, not even a full day later, they crowned Aegon as king in the Dragonpit, in front of the entire people. Placing the conqueror's crown on his head, wielding his sword to the cheers of the people.

She could only bite her tongue and dig her nails into her skin until she bled, while averting her gaze. Not recognizing her uncle, the usurper, as king.

That night, when her husband visited her chambers to have sex with her again, as expected of him, as had been the case every night since they married, it was she who took control. It was she who set the pace and used him, leaving behind the gentleness he had previously offered her. It was she who began to be harsh.

Their encounters became rough and hard, with no room for frills or romance. After all, that was the only way she had to vent.

They did it, finished, and each went their separate ways.

In less than a month she was already pregnant.

"Blessed be the gods for this good news." Was what Alicent Hightower said upon receiving the news, while taking the hands of her young daughter-in-law. "Viserys would be delighted with this news. Finally, the Seven smile upon us."

"Do you think? I think they mock us." She whispered, tears in her eyes.

She wanted to go home, to find comfort in her mother's arms, who should be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms and sitting on the Iron Throne.

From the day they received the news, Aemond stopped visiting her at night, and she spent hours staring at her bed canopy, caressing her still nonexistent baby bump. The life growing inside her was the only thing she had in that cold place.

How she longed to talk to her mother freely, but of course, writing to her and sending a raven at that time, without supervision, without practically the entire king's small council approving it, could be considered treason. And to think of proposing to visit her, by the Seven Gods.

What a fucking mess.

Days went by, her loneliness grew, her breasts became more sensitive, her aversion to certain smells became more noticeable. Still, the only pleasant company she had and found some comfort in was Helaena and her children.

Beings of light, innocent and joyful.

"How are things with my brother?" Helaena asked while observing the cages in which she kept some insects.

"He usually asks about how I am feeling, how the pregnancy is going — but other than that, we do not... interact. We practically live separate lives."

"Does he not discuss his duties with you?"

"The bare minimum. I only know that today he is leaving for Storm's End, to speak with Borros Baratheon."

"Oh." Helaena said, looking at her with an expression she couldn't decipher.

"What is it?"

"It is just that I feel a storm is coming. I do not know, it is strange."

"But the skies are clear, Hel?"

And the storm came, just as Helaena had said.

The next morning she woke up later than usual, none of the maids who usually attended to her came to wake her, which made her wonder why no one had disturbed her until then. She tried to dismiss the thought, leaning towards the belief that they were simply letting her rest due to the lack of energy she felt because of the pregnancy.

When she left her room to meet Helaena and have breakfast with her, she encountered one of the Kingsguard, Ser Arryk Cargyll, who had been patiently waiting for her, for who knows how long.

"Did Helaena send you for me?" The young princess asked doubtfully, as it was usually not Ser Arryk who escorted her anywhere.

"No, princess." Replied the sworn knight softly. "The queen mother sends me; she is waiting for you to meet her and Prince Aemond in her apartments." He said, pointing out the path they were to take, a fleeting, small, empathetic smile adorning his face as if he were trying to hide something.

"Has something happened, Ser Arryk?" She asked as they walked towards Alicent Hightower's apartments. Uncertainty gripped her, for each time they encountered someone from the court, or a servant or guard, they averted their gaze from the young woman, as if not wanting to reveal something. "Have I been accused of treason or something?" The young woman murmured with a mix of doubt and jest, stopping and looking at the Cargyll twin.

"Not at all, princess." The man replied, shaking his head. "The reason for the audience will be revealed when we arrive, I promise."

"Has someone died, by any chance?" The young woman asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ser Arryk did not respond, simply escorting her to the queen mother's chambers. Where, indeed, she discovered that someone had died.

Her baby brother, Luke. At the hands of her own husband, ironically.

With one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach, she shook her head, under the watchful eyes of Aemond, Alicent, Otto, Aegon, and Ser Criston. She leaned against the brick wall of the queen's chambers, her gaze passing over each of the people present, her tears welling up in her eyes, and the words unable to pass her throat, where she felt a tight knot.

Alicent tried to approach her, raising a hand to touch her shoulder in consolation. "Oh, sweet girl, this was—" she tried to speak, as she finished approaching her.

The young woman, with a slap, pushed her hand away and took a few steps back to distance herself. Now, with tears streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision, she clumsily opened the door and briskly set off towards anywhere far from any of them.

Without a fixed direction, she turned every corner she encountered until an overwhelming urge to vomit flooded her, and she ended up clutching a large decorative urn, where she emptied her stomach. Amidst the vomiting and retching, she felt a hand rubbing her back in support.

“No, no—” she tried to speak as she pulled away from the person, slightly dragging herself on the ground, wiping her lips with the sleeve of her dress. “No, please,” she whispered through tears, her eyes closed.

“I do not like feeling sick either.”

“What— Jaehaerys…” she whispered the boy’s name, who brought his little hand to her face and wiped away a tear.

“Does your tummy hurt, Auntie?” asked the little boy, who was kneeling beside her, his head tilted and looking at her with concern. Innocence was all that reflected in the eyes of the usurper's progeny.

“A little, yes. Something did not sit well with me, little one.” The young woman sniffed and tried to smile at the boy as best she could.

“Jaehaerys.” Helaena called to her young son, and seeing how he tried to comfort the princess, she approached them, kneeling in front of the duo. “Why don’t you go play with your sister, hm? I shall stay and take care of her, yes?”

The silver-haired boy looked at his mother and then at his aunt, who was still giving him a small smile, even though her lower lip was trembling. He nodded and looked at the small wooden dragon he had in one of his hands before placing it in the young princess’s hand.

“You can keep it until you feel better.”

“Thank you, little prince.”

“Maybe playing with it will help you.” He murmured before standing up and running towards one of the servants who took care of Helaena’s children.

The usurper’s wife, whom she had adored since childhood, helped her up from the ground, and with an arm around her, while she cried silently, accompanied her to her room, where she broke into almost agonising, pain-filled sobs. Helaena sat at the foot of the young woman’s bed while she cried with her head in her lap, broken with grief.

For hours, the one considered the new queen, with a pure heart and only good intentions, stayed in the same position, doing everything in her power to calm and console her dear one, who was her sister-in-law, niece, and friend, all in one person. She stroked her long hair while trying to offer comforting words; the young Velaryon, slightly younger than her, could only cling to her waist with one arm, while in the other hand she held the wooden dragon that little Jaehaerys had given her. She kept her face hidden in Helaena’s lap, crying and crying, until finally, she fell asleep from crying and sobbing so much.

“Leave. Have you not made her suffer enough?” she thought she heard Helaena say sharply, something that very rarely happened, in the distance of her dream.

She knew that the one who was now definitely her only trusted person in the place had just thrown out her husband, the murderer of her younger brother.

Aemond did not manage to articulate a word to excuse himself when he showed up, merely mumbling under his breath, his gaze fixed on his beautiful wife, clinging to the body of his sister.

Helaena gave him a fierce, defiant look, insisting without repeating her words that he leave, which he eventually did. The slam of the door behind him woke the princess, who turned her head and stared at the door.

“Do not worry, he is gone now,” murmured Helaena, looking at her with sadness and empathy, still stroking her hair.

“I do not know what I am going to do,” whispered the young Velaryon, her voice hoarse from crying so much, as she lowered her hand to her belly, where her baby was growing.

That creature, who was also the progeny of a Kinslayer, the prince with one eye. The person she could most despise at that precise moment.

The mere thought of being responsible for giving him a child, something that was already happening, made her blood boil and filled her with deep disgust for the situation.

And indirectly, a certain rejection, towards her unborn child.

She was condemned to spend the rest of her days with him, bound to him, because of her condition. Because of the son or daughter who had not yet been born, but soon would be.

She was in that position by the decision of Viserys, her late and naïve grandfather. “By order of the king…” she murmured sarcastically, as she felt the tears well up in her eyes again.

By order of the late king, she was in that situation, but that would not stop her from making things difficult for Aemond.

A shadow began to loom over her, just as the war that was about to be declared.

Although, to be honest, they were all screwed.

So royally fucked.

419 notes · View notes

j-k-writes · 29 days ago

Text

The Bronze Targaryen - 7

Summary - Ten years after the marriage of Prince (Y/N) and Princess Rhaenyra, Prince (Y/N) Royce, Lord of Runestone has returned permanently to Kingslanding.

Warnings - childbirth, childhood bullying, general HOTD warnings, fighting

“Keep breathing.” The midwife instructed Rhaenyra. “And push.”

Rhaenyra clutched (Y/N)'s hand tightly as she did, and (Y/N) just rubbed his other hand up her arm, murmuring words of encouragement to his wife.

“And again.”

Rhaenyra groaned, turning away from (Y/N) to face the midwife on her other side. She was breathless as she spoke, “I can’t.”

The babe held no regard for their mother’s feelings as Rhaenyra cried out once more, squeezing her husband impossibly tighter as she pushed. (Y/N) closed his eyes at the sounds of his wife’s cries, repeating a mantra of soothing and encouraging words as she labored.

“A boy, your graces.” (Y/N) opened his eyes as the piercing cries of a babe echoed through the room.

Rhaenyra breathlessly chuckled, releasing (Y/N) to reach for the babe, “Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, princess.”

(Y/N) beamed, pressing a kiss to his wife’s sweaty forehead as she held the babe. “Well done, ñuha jorrāelagon.

The peace did not last more than a moment as soon Elinda was bursting through the door, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) turned to look at her as she paused in front of them. “Princess, the Queen has requested the child be brought to her…immediately.”

“Why?” Elinda did not answer, only bowing her head and (Y/N) pitied the poor girl. He felt Rhaenyra move to get up beside him, and he grabbed her, mindful of her recent labor and the babe in her arms. “I’ll take him myself.”

“You should remain abed, Rhaenyra-” (Y/N) protested.

“Yes, I should!” She snapped at him, before sighing and turning to her handmaidens. “Help me dress.”

(Y/N) opened his mouth to protest more as Rhaenyra handed the babe off to him and a fresh dress was brought over to her. But she just shook her head, “I must bring him myself, (Y/N), or she will not be satisfied.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but turned his attention away from the stubborn princess as the babe began to cry. He gently shushed him, bouncing him lightly up and down. He watched as Rhaenyra birthed the afterbirth, and she did not meet his stern gaze as her maid’s finished cleaning and dressing her. Rhaenyra took the babe back, despite (Y/N)’s protests, as they exited the chambers.

“Will you at least take my arm?” (Y/N) grabbed the arm she held out as she slowly limped through the halls. She paused at the start of the stairs, bending in pain. “What? Rhaenyra what is it?”

“Fuck,” She whispered, before holding her head high and steeling her expression. “Just walk.”

(Y/N) lifted the front of her dress with his free hand, “This is ridiculous. What could she possibly want?”

“You know what she wants.”

“I thought we were past her attempts at undermining your position.” The only response Rhaenyra gave was a wince and they continued up the steps.

“Princess, Prince (Y/N), it is a privilege to be amongst the first to congratulate you.”

“Thank you, Lord Caswell.”

“If I may be of any service.” (Y/N) rolled his eyes at the lord.

“The day may yet come, my Lord.” Rhaenyra responded, wincing only a few steps later and once again bending in pain. (Y/N) caught her, holding her upright.

“That’s enough.” (Y/N) said, making to turn around. “We’re turning back. Alicent can come to us if she wishes.”

“No.” (Y/N) scoffed, but Rhaenyra continued. “Not unless you wish to carry me down those fucking stairs.”

(Y/N) looked at the babe in Rhaenyra’s arms, and just shook his head. He gathered up her dresses again and helped her finish her walk. “This is absurd, Nyra.”

Rhaenyra just made a noise of agreement limping stone faced to the Queen’s chambers. Ser Criston Cole was stationed outside the Queen’s door, and (Y/N) glared at him as the knight bowed and opened the door for them both. Alicent was standing, waiting for them, as they entered. She turned to look at the parents, feigning surprise at their presence.

“Rhaenyra!” Alicent said, “You should be resting after your labors.”

(Y/N) scoffed, rolling his eyes at the woman before guiding Rhaenyra to sit.

“I have no doubt that you would prefer that, your grace.”

“Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess.”

“There’s no need.” Rhaenyra said, but (Y/N) saw the way she winced at the small movements she made to get comfortable. The maid positioned the pillow under Rhaenyra anyways, and Alicent dismissed her handmaidens. Before she could speak, however, Viserys entered the chambers, a smile plastered on his sickly face.

“What happy news this morning.”

(Y/N) smiled, “Indeed, your grace.”

“Where is he?” Rhaenyra handed the babe off to (Y/N), who turned toward his uncle. “Where is my grandson?” (Y/N) placed the babe in Viserys’ arms, smiling as his uncle cooed over the boy. “A fine prince. Sturdy, he will make a fearsome knight.”

“Does the babe have a name yet?” (Y/N)’s smile immediately fell at the sound of the Queen’s voice, turning to face her.

“We have not-”

“Joffrey.” (Y/N) paused at Rhaenyra’s words. She smiled at him as she continued. “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

“That’s an unusual name for a Targaryen.” Alicent’s mouth curled up.

“He is a Royce,” (Y/N) said, unable to keep his disdain out of his voice. Alicent had never been kind to his sons, spreading ill rumors about the source of their dark features as if their father wasn’t a Lord of the Vale.

Before anyone else could respond, Viserys spoke once more, “I do believe he has his father’s nose.”

(Y/N) smiled, and Alicent rolled her eyes. Clearing his throat (Y/N) tore his gaze from the Queen turning toward his uncle. “If you don’t mind, uncle. Your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest.”

Viserys nodded, and Rhaenyra stood up with (Y/N)’s help. But before they could take the babe from the King, Alicent stepped in front taking him into her arms. Both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra tensed as they watched Alicent with Joffrey, as Viserys approached his daughter (Y/N) followed after the Queen.

He watched her carefully, motioning for her to give his son back to him. She smiled at him as she handed him back, although it did not reach his eyes. “Do keep trying Prince (Y/N), sooner or later you will get one with your eyes.”

(Y/N) returned her false smile, “He has the eyes of my ancestors, Queen Alicent. It does not matter which ones.”

“I do not understand why you must always respond to her, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra said as they walked side by side back to her chambers. “You are only giving her the satisfaction of angering you.”

“Should I just stand back and watch as she makes vile accusations about our sons.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, limping ahead of him. “You seemed content with watching for the first ten years of our marriage.”

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) picked up his pace to catch up with his limping wife. “My absence was necessary.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra did not meet his eyes. “Certainly necessary in Alicent’s plan to undermine me. It was after all your continued absence that let the rumors spread so far.”

Rhaenyra continued the walk in silence, and with that (Y/N) knew the conversation was over. She reached the chambers, where Jace, Luke, and Harwin were already waiting for the couple. Harwin stood at the sight of them both, which in turn caused Jace and Luke to notice their presence.

“Mother,” Jace stood, rushing over to a pot placed upon leather on the table. “Look.”

“We chose an egg for the baby.” Luke spoke.

“Ah, that looks like the perfect one.” Rhaenyra smiled, as Harwin helped her lower herself into a chair.

“I let Luke choose.”

“Thank you, Jace.”

(Y/N) smiled, walking slowly over to Ser Harwin. “That was kind of you, Jace.”

“Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, your graces. I thought it best to escort the lads.”

“Rhaenyra and I thank you, Commander.” (Y/N) smiled, holding Joffrey up for Harwin to take.

Harwin smiled, taking the bundle gently from (Y/N)’s arms. “Another boy I heard. What a fine knight you are going to make.”

“His name is Joffrey.” Rhaenyra said, and Harwin hummed, bouncing the babe. (Y/N) smiled at the sight of the two of them, looking over to Rhaenyra who met his gaze with a smile of her own.

“Father,” (Y/N) turned just in time to catch his two eldest before they ran right into Harwin. “Please may I hold Joffrey.”

Luke and Jace both reached for the babe, who Harwin dutifully held out of their reach. “No, no. You two must go back to the Dragonpit.” The boys groaned, making their father laugh as he gestured for the kingsguard outside their door to escort them. (Y/N) shut the doors behind the boys as they left, hearing Harwin speak to Joffrey behind him.

“You’re asleep in front of the Commander of the City Watch.” Harwin mused. “Terrible lack of respect.”

“A certain insolence runs in the family, I’m afraid.” Rhaenyra smiled, shooting (Y/N) a look as he took a seat next to her.

He blinked, “What?”

Harwin laughed, “Nothing, love. Nothing at all.”

(Y/N) frowned, leaning back into the cushions of the seat. Rhaenyra let her head fall on his shoulder, and his hands found their way into her messy hair. “I left you two alone for too long, you’ve teamed up against me.”

“Did you give your cousin a pig?” (Y/N) asked, already knowing the answer by the look on the two boys' faces. Viserys had come to the Lord of Runestone with his wife’s worries earlier that day, and (Y/N) had just sighed, promising his uncle he would deal with it.

This was not the first of these types of incidents, however, it was the first (Y/N) was present for; only having returned permanently to Kingslanding three moons prior. Rhaenyra had written to him of the boys’ behavior multiple times throughout the years and during his visits to Kingslanding he had addressed it with them, but his lectures never seemed to take hold in his sons’ heads.

Neither boy responded, and (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He desired Rhaenyra’s presence, the boys more inclined to listen to her, but Rhaenyra was busy with the king’s council. So while his wife was busy fixing the boys’ mistakes in court he was left to fix them here.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourselves?”

Jace frowned, and Luke slowly dragged his gaze from the floor. He spoke softly, “It was Aegon’s idea.”

“Luke!” Jace shot his brother a dirty look.

“Enough, Jace.” (Y/N) snapped, causing the boy to shrink in on himself. “Is what Luke said true?”

Jace nodded.

“Do you always follow your cousin blindly?” (Y/N) asked. “With no thought toward the consequences of such actions?”

The boys stayed silent, and (Y/N) sighed. He kneeled down to their level, “Boys look at me.” They looked at him, and (Y/N) continued. “Jace, one day you will be heir to the Iron Throne, and you Luke, you are the heir to Runestone. Your cousin is none of those things. He may be older than both of you, but that does not mean you should be following his lead. Especially in matters like this.”

“We understand, father.” Jace said, and (Y/N) nodded. He stood up, bringing the boys toward him. He pressed a kiss to the top of their dark hair.

“I want to hear no more about these types of incidents.” (Y/N) sighed, releasing them. He urged them toward the door where he knew there were kingsguards waiting to escort them toward their lessons. “Go to your lessons, I will see you after.”

(Y/N) watched as his sons walked away, collapsing into the chair behind him. He sent a silent apology to his mother in the afterlife, and he knew she would find joy in his sons’ antics after everything he put her through in his youth.

Rhaenyra was pacing the room as (Y/N) entered the chambers. Joffrey was gone, most likely with his wet nurse, and Jace and Luke had yet to return from their lessons.

“What is wrong?”

Rhaenyra paused, worrying at her bottom lip. “Harwin attacked Ser Criston in the yard.”

“What?”

“Ser Criston made…unflattering comments about his relationship with our sons.” (Y/N) huffed, turning on his heel but before he could go anywhere Rhaenyra grabbed his arm. “Do not. Harwin is in enough trouble, do not make it worse.”

“I simply wish to hear what unflattering remarks Cole made.” (Y/N) seethed, and Rhaenyra laced her fingers through (Y/N)’s. “He should not be allowed to speak those lies so blatantly, Nyra.”

“Right now we need to worry about the consequences of Harwin’s actions,” Rhaenyra rubbed her thumb in soothing circles on (Y/N)’s hand. “You can deal with Cole later.”

(Y/N) deflated, Harwin’s father would not take kindly to Harwin’s actions. His position as son of the Hand would not be enough to save him from the repercussions of attacking one of the kingsguard, as loathed as Cole was.

“Come.” Rhaenyra led him to the back of her chambers, pushing open a loose piece of the wall. (Y/N) followed his wife into the corridor, giving her a questioning look. “Your father informed me of these.”

“Of course he did.” Prince Daemon, corrupter of young princesses.

Rhaenyra smiled at his tone, although (Y/N) could tell it was only half-hearted. (Y/N) followed her throughout the corridors, both walking silently as they went. (Y/N) held his breath as the sound of the Hand’s voice carried through the corridor, inching closer and closer to the room.

“It fills me with unrelenting shame.”

“So that’s what this is about then?” Harwin scoffed. “Your shame.”

“Our shame, Harwin!” (Y/N) flinched at the volume of the Hand’s voice, and Rhaenyra grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Shame on the whole of House Strong.”

“What? Because I laid my hands on that insufferable Cole, the son of a steward?”

“He is a knight of the kingsguard now-”

“He assailed Prince Jacaerys, the future heir to the throne.”

The sound of shouts from both men was too loud for (Y/N) to make out any words, but he could hear and see items being thrown across the room. He’d thought he escaped this type of arguing when he left Runestone, but it seemed even Kingslanding was not safe from petty infighting.

“You have laid us open to accusations of an uglier treachery.” He heard Rhaenyra’s breath hitch next to him, and (Y/N) frowned.

“And what treachery is that?”

“Don’t play the fool with me, boy. Your intimacy with the Princess Rhaenyra, not to mention Prince (Y/N),” (Y/N) winced, “Is an offense that would mean exile and death for you, for them, for the children!”

“It is rumor only. Spun by the Princess’ rivals.”

“There are people in this court who believe otherwise. You are lucky His Grace the King does not accept these rumors, it is his belief alone that stands between you and a headsman.”

“I wish my father affected a similar belief.”

“Have I not these many years? And yet today, you publicly assaulted a Knight of the Kingsguard, knowing the rumors, in the defense of the children of your-”

Rhaenyra turned away, covering her mouth as she started her descent back to her chambers. (Y/N) watched Harwin’s reaction to his father’s words, unable to help the small smile that graced his face at the commander’s response.

“You have your honor and I have mine.”

By the time (Y/N) returned to the chambers, Rhaenyra was sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. (Y/N) walked up behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulder rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

“We will figure this out.” (Y/N) whispered. He could tell Rhaenyra did not believe his words, in truth he didn’t truly believe them himself. He had hoped when Gunthor left Runestone, finally allowing him the freedom to leave Gerold as his steward as he left for Kingslanding, that he had left this type of drama behind him. But it seemed he’d forgotten the Queen and her sworn protector seemed desperate to undermine Rhaenyra, her children, and those around her at any chance they got.

(Y/N) sighed, walking toward the door. He opened it enough to speak with the guard outside. “Can you please summon Ser Harwin?”

The guard nodded, bowing before walking off. Harwin walked through the doors only ten minutes later, sighing at the sight of the two royals as he entered. Rhaenyra did not speak as he entered, but (Y/N) stood.

“What were you thinking?” (Y/N) seethed. “Did you really think you could get away with assaulting Cole in the middle of the yard?”

“He insulted your boys. I did nothing you yourself would not have done if you had heard that bastard. I view those boys as my own blood, (Y/N), and I will not tolerate insults from Cole, or anyone, against you or them.” Harwin spat back, immediately deflating after hearing his own tone. (Y/N) clenched his jaw, unable to stop his anger at Harwin from disappearing. Rhaenyra looked up at the both of them, motioning for Harwin to join her where she was sitting.

Harwin took a seat next to Rhaenyra, and she grabbed his hand. (Y/N) spoke as it seemed his wife did not feel up to the effort. He stood in front of the knight, “There are other ways to deal with such insults, Harwin. You should have come to me instead of attacking Cole.”

Harwin smiled up at the man, “I do not work in the shadows as well as you do. I am a Strong we fight our battles in the daylight.”

(Y/N) frowned, grabbing Harwin’s chin. “This will not go unpunished, especially by your father.”

“He has already expelled me from the City Watch, but I’m sure that will not be enough for him.”

(Y/N) sighed, looking at Rhaenyra but she just looked defeated. “I just returned to Kingslanding. I have spent years away from you both, and now we must be separated again?”

Rhaenyra finally spoke, “We do not yet know if Harwin will be sent away.”

Harwin and (Y/N) made eye contact, both knowing the truth Rhaenyra was denying herself. Lord Lyonel Strong was too much of an honorable man to take this type of action lightly. At the very least, Lyonel will send Harwin away from court in an attempt to put an end to these rumors once and for all.

(Y/N) decided to let his wife have her small comfort. He pressed a kiss to her head, “Of course. We will just have to see.”

“Be good to your mother lads. I’ll visit when I can” Harwin spoke to the boys. “But that may be some time”

(Y/N) watched as Jace ignored the man, practically running to him and Rhaenyra.

“Jace.” Rhaenyra said softly, and (Y/N) gently ran his fingers through his son’s hair. Harwin approached the three, four counting Joffrey asleep in his mother’s arms.

“I will return.” Harwin promised, taking Jace’s chin in between his fingers to force the boy to look at him. “I promise.”

He looked to (Y/N), who bit his tongue not trusting his voice enough to speak. (Y/N) just stared at the knight, hoping his expression would convey all the emotion he seemed unable to be able to put into words. Whatever Harwin saw in the prince’s face seemed enough for the man as he turned to Rhaenyra.

He bent down, pressing a kiss to Joffrey’s forehead. “I will be a stranger when we meet again.”

He looked up, making eye contact with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra’s eyes were watering, and she bit her lip as the knight looked at her. Harwin sighed, “Princess.”

He turned to (Y/N), “My Prince.”

Harwin gathered his things walking out of the room. (Y/N) felt Jace lunged forward, and the boy escaped his grasp before the man had a chance to stop him. (Y/N) ran after him, Rhaenyra following close behind. Luke seemed almost indifferent to the whole event watching everything from his place on the floor.

Jace stopped just outside the door, stepping away from both his parents as they approached.

“We will exchange letters by raven won’t that be fun?” Rhaenyra said in an obvious attempt of an olive branch.

“Is Harwin Strong my father?” (Y/N) tensed at Jace’s question. “Are the rumors true, am I a bastard?”

“No.” (Y/N) said, grabbing the boy’s shoulder. “You are a Targaryen and a Royce, what they say does not matter.”

He kissed his son’s forehead, and Rhaenyra ushered Jace into the room. She turned to (Y/N), watching him as he looked down the now empty hallway. She opened her mouth to speak but (Y/N) cut her off.

“I am going to the yard.”

Rhaenyra watched as her husband stormed off, sighing and taking Joffrey back inside the room.

She found (Y/N) hours later, he had upgraded from abusing the straw men of his youth to abusing the poor knights in the yard. She watched him knock down two knights before approaching. The third knight that (Y/N) had taken an interest in paused at the sight of the princess allowing (Y/N) to knock him to the ground.

“A word?” Rhaenyra said, and (Y/N) paused, turning to face his wife. Breathing heavily the Lord of Runestone walked over to her. “We’re finished here, we're leaving.”

(Y/N) furrowed his eyebrows,“What of your offer? Jace and Helaena?”

“I have been undermined and made a spectacle. They whisper about us in the corridors.” Rhaenyra said, “Well, let’s leave them to it.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Dragonstone or Runestone?”

“Dragonstone.” Rhaenyra said, and (Y/N) nodded again. It would’ve been easier for the prince to have his family at Runestone, so that he did not have to leave them to check on the castle and its holdings, but Runestone had enough trouble holding Vermithor. (Y/N) doubted it could hold four, five when Joffery’s egg hatched, dragons. “We should’ve left years ago.”

Rhaenyra turned to leave.

“What of your position?” (Y/N) asked, and Rhaenyra paused, turning to him. “We have always known if you were absent from court she would pour her poison in your father’s ear.”

“Our absence is necessary if we wish to spare our boys more pain.” Rhaenyra said, smiling at her husband before walking back into the keep.

(Y/N) smiled as he watched her walk away.

---

Translations -

Ñuha jorrāelagon - My love

#x male reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x male reader #x reader #x y/n #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #harwin strong #hotd x reader #hold x male reader #hariwn strong x male reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #why is joffrey's name the same idk plot reasons #also it is technically a name used in the vale so

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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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damn-stark · 5 months ago

Text

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

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