#the warden will be on that council

[stubz]

i shared a fic about Megamind that had him have a prison family and now I'm gonna dive into that

I'm 90% certain that crime improved/increased with Megamind's arrival at the prison. It improved in that those who were released became better people and many crime rates for different charges decreased significantly.

But it increased in that after becoming an uncle/brother/father to this blue alien kid, some things just hit differently now.

Like Ivan who is a big-time thug can't just ignore how his boss treats his very own daughter. Jimmy doesn't find it funny anymore when his crew has homeless kids working for them for moldy bread and a place to sleep. Gregor nearly kills his landlord for what he heard him say to the child whose family just came here from Egypt.

Things hit differently when you have a kid of your own. And that's what happened to hundreds of men when Megamind arrived.

Most probably just improved and moved on but I see a lot them sending him letters and visiting whenever they can. Some who have no one, act up so they can stay and take care of him. Even after learning that a lot of the guards care for him too.

[ndostairlyrium]

I'm glad I have these two angry middle-aged women watching over the south (off screen) <3 Arl Teagan's worst nightmare

[gnost-stories]

Werewolf: The Apocalypse 5th Edition is an edition of Werewolf: The Apocalypse I can actually show to my friends without accompanying it with an asterisk for each chapter. The Tribe renames actually serve to make tribes more global and reduce the actual limitation of tribes to certain ethnicities or national identities.

Not to mention the Tribe now called Galestalkers used to be named something you're not supposed to say according to the First Nation it is from.

It's not as if the renames are eurocentric in nature either, because even the Hart Wardens got changed from what they used to be.

The removal of the crinos-born means there's no longer in-universe Proof That Eugenics Is Justified and they're no longer using the name of a marginalized group that's frankly been through enough bullshit in 500 years.

Thank Gaia for Werewolf: The Apocalypse 5th Edition.

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Harry Dresden by Mika Blackfield

[saykataruok]

Swooping is bad.

[halfarsedhermit]

Hot Shot Warden Another character from our Dresden Files game - young warden running with a bunch of vamps and a lyft driver.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Cregan stark is in awful mood but his wife knows how to set his mood. What could be better than being naked in bed for only him to see and use.

No smut in this one (sorry), but Cregan smut is coming!!

Warnings: 18+, nudity,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Over the past weeks, an influx of ravens came from Castle Black and the Wall. According to the messages, a large force of three thousand wildlings from beyond the Wall had launched major raids to force their way south of the Wall at Queensgate. The movement was led by a wildling chieftain called Sylas the Grim.

Being Warden of the North, it was Cregan's duty to take care of the matter. He spent most of his days in his drawing chamber, strategizing with his council or writing and sending ravens to rally what able-bodied men were left to his banner and combine forces against Sylas. 

You could see that he was under a lot of pressure and stress. He was tense too, resulting in a quick temper. Before last night, you never saw Cregan snap at a servant for bringing him mutton stew when he asked for beef. You apologize to the poor servant on your husband’s behalf when you crossed paths with him in the corridor, telling him Lord Stark had heavy matters on his shoulders at the moment and that he did not mean his bad mouth. 

Following that incident, you decided it was time to help him take out that pent-up tension in ways only you knew. 

After supper, you went up to your chambers and set everything. You lit candles and added more logs to the fire to warm up the room, creating a cozy ambiance. Although the bed had been made by the maids in the morning, you arranged the pillows just right and smoothed the fur pelts, making sure everything was perfect.

Once everything was ready, you sent a servant to request Cregan’s presence in his chambers. He would not be pleased to be disrupted, but he'll change his mind when he sees what's awaiting for him. 

Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you disrobed. Using a wet cloth, you wiped your body from the dirt of the day and rubbed some rose oil on your skin. Then, you climbed on the bed, the pelts soft on your skin, and waited for your husband. 

In the drawing chamber, Cregan was sitting and massaging his temples as his eyes scanned the countless numbers on the many maps spread out before him. His heavy cloak was draped over one of the unused chairs. When the knock on the door came, he let out a sigh. 

This better be important, he thought. 

‘’Come in,’’  Cregan said with irritation in his voice.

The door creaked open and a young male servant stepped shyly into the room. 

He bowed to his lord politely. ‘’My lord. Lady Stark requests your presence in your shared chambers.’’

Cregan raised an eyebrow, a small frown on his face. He glanced at the pile of maps, and then back to the servant. ‘’Did she mention why?’’ he asked the servant, his face stern.

‘’She did not, my lord,’’ the servant replied. ‘’She just said it was important, my lord.’’

With a sigh, Cregan stood up from his chair. ‘’Very well.’’ 

Back in your chambers, you listened carefully to the sounds outside the doors for Cregan’s footsteps. When you heard the familiar heavy footfalls, you leaned back on your arms and wiped your giddy smile from your face.

The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit chamber on the other side. Cregan’s gray eyes scoured the room in confusion, taking in the soft candlelight and the warm fire crackling in the hearth. 

He stepped inside, opening his mouth to ask what it was that you wanted, but your sweet voice filled the room first. 

‘’Good evening, lord husband.’’ 

Cregan turned his attention toward his bed, all thoughts leaving his head when he saw what greeted his eyes. He couldn't help but stare at your naked beauty, laying on the pelts that covered his bed, his eyes roaming over your form with a mixture of desire and awe.

The northman tried to speak, but at first, only a hoarse croak came out. Clearing his throat, he spoke again, his voice thick with need. ‘’What is the meaning of this?’’

You ran a hand up your stomach, painted with lines from your last pregnancy, and over your full breasts, tracing your fingers across your nipples. You gave him a mischievous grin, feeling his eyes burn into you. 

‘’It has come to my attention that you’ve been very stressed and tense lately with all that is happening at the Wall. I took it upon myself to give you a way to unleash all of that pent-up stress by offering myself to you, to take however you wish,’’ you explained. 

Cregan’s gaze was still glued to your hand as it explored the curves of your body. His jaw clenched as he took a deep breath, feeling a tent form in his breeches from watching the movements of your fingers. 

Since the first raven mentioned Sylas the Grim arrived at Winterfell, sex got pushed to the side to treat the urgent matter. And now Cregan was feeling the consequences of his negligence. He’s never been this painfully hard since puberty knocked on his door at four and ten. 

You felt a rush of heat over your body, Cregan’s eyes fixed intently on you with lust and desire, as if he were hunting his prey. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, his body tensed and taut as if ready to pounce. 

‘’You have no idea what you're getting yourself into,’’ he said in a deep, rough voice and a slight smirk playing on his lips. 

You leaned back against the pillows, offering your body to him. ‘’Show me.’’

—

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[entitled-fangirl]

All is fair in love.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT

Summary: Cregan hates when they fight. He loves when they make up.

Warnings: fingering, breast play, doing stuff in public (the woods), orgasm denial, etc

Masterlist

………………………………….

Cregan hated disagreements with his wife.

He was the Warden for gods sakes and still the little woman questioned him.

But worse than the arguments themselves was the first attempt at making up with one another. Especially when neither side wished to apologize.

They often found themselves at standstills, prompting a new argument atop the old ones.

But when one finally caved?

That was often Cregan's favorite part.

…

"I have a wager then," Cregan offered, trying to ease the tension of their previous fight that had yet to be resolved.

She sighed, her jaw set harshly as she leaned against his broad chest. "And what's that?"

His hands stretched out to brush his horse's neck, forcing his chest against her back roughly so he could whisper lowly in her ear. "The bet is this: who can stay silent longer?"

Her brows furrowed. "That sounds ridiculous."

He placed a finger over her mouth. "Quiet. Or you'll lose."

"And what do I win?"

"What do you want?" He asked.

She was thankful that they were alone in the forest or all of the North might have heard her racing heart.

"I want you to admit that I was right," she said immediately.

"That set in your ways?" He mocked.

"And," she added. "I want a place on your council."

"You have a place on m-"

"- I have a place as your wife. That is hardly a place. Northerners do not listen to wives. Give me a true place on your council."

He ran a hand up her side, staring at the curve of her neck as he contemplated her tall order.

Perhaps a difference in opinion wouldn't be all that bad.

"Fine."

"Fine," she tutted. "And if you win?"

He ran his tongue over his top row of teeth. "We'll see when we get there, won't we?"

"We won't," she seethed, still leaning on him.

"A shame you married a quiet man," he teased, letting his hand roam over her stomach.

"Quiet, my arse." When his hand began to wander over her breast, she huffed, "Cregan, w-"

"Shh, we've started," he teased further.

So this was his game? Very well.

She rested her head against his chest as they rode, letting Cregan's hands wander wherever it pleased him. 

Which was anywhere he knew would please her.

It started innocent, a brush of her breast, a brush down her thigh, a breath against her neck. 

The only sound was the horse's heavy steps and the sound of the wind rustling through the remaining leaves on the trees.

And though she stayed quiet, she'd be lying if she said his touch didn't get to her.

Particularly when he grew bolder.

He slipped a hand into her riding pants, the button coming undone. The cold air made goosebumps break out over her exposed skin.

When his hand grazed over her small clothes, her breath hitched.

He knew he had a chance then.

He delicately slipped under the band with one finger, teasing it across the fabric until he let his entire hand go with it. She shifted her weight, clearly fighting back a sound.

When his cold fingers brushed over her sensitive clit, she instinctively grabbed his wrist, her entire body shuddering with the sensation she tried to fight.

Her grip on his wrist stopped nothing, for his fingers began to gently rub circles. Her mouth opened in an attempt to fight off a sound.

Cregan's head rested against her shoulder, a breathy chuckle sounding when he touched a rather sensitive spot that made her arch away from him.

He wanted to tease her vocally so bad.

He traveled lower, letting his fingers now gently prod at her, spreading her just to get a reaction.

Her eyes were closed at this point, fighting whether to scold him or rock against his hand.

He watched her hands shake when he pressed two fingers into her. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her lips were being bit to pieces. 

He was sure he'd have her by now, and he was beginning to grow frustrated. He practically forced the reigns into her hands. And now with his own free, he snaked it up her riding tunic. His icy cold fingers caused goosebumps over her warm stomach. 

He pressed the cold digits against her, desperate for a vocal reaction but no such luck.

But he did get a shiver from her. 

He took it gladly, now continuing his track up her stomach with one hand, the other now pumping lazily into her.

When his fingers grazed over her breast, she sucked in a breath. She was beginning to hold in everything now and he gently pulled and brushed at her nipple.

He decided it was now or never. And like a sudden wave of confidence, he pumped his fingers in and out at a steady pace, rubbing at her clit with his thumb. His other hand pulled at her other nipple now, and his lips sucked just under her jaw.

Her entire body jerked, prompting a small squeak of her voice out. 

And he stopped. 

His fingers paused.

And a broad smile pulled at his lips against her neck.

"That's unfair," she panted as her hips still rocked up for friction.

He didn't give it to her, keeping his hand close to her body. "I fail to see how."

"Cregan, please," she whined, placing a hand over her tunic where his hand rested. "Please, please, I did your bet."

"Apologize."

She whined. "It can wait-"

"-Apologize," he said again.

She bit her lip in defiance. His finger flicked over her nipple, making a small moan come out of her mouth. "Fine! Forgive me!" She begged. "I was wrong!"

"-And rude."

"And rude."

He kissed her neck. "And selfish."

"And selfish."

"And you understand you were wrong?"

"Yes! Yes! Just-"

"-And," he pushed further, "you understand that I'll still give you a place on my council?" 

If she heard the words for what they were, she didn't quite show it. "Yes! J-"

"And when we return to our chambers, I'm going to fuck you until the morrow?"

"YES!" She finally yelled in frustration. "Cregan! Ju-"

"-I know," he cooed. 

He resumed his movements from before, completely enjoying the sounds that now openly spilled from his little wife's mouth.

"Fuck," she moaned. Her free hand wandered behind her to the back of his head. "Fuck, you're s-so good to m-me."

"Am I?" He teased lowly.

"So good. You're so good! I… I think I'm gonna-"

His hands paused again. 

A deep pitiful whine came from her, her body now leaning forward in a little slump. "I said what you wanted," she whined.

"You did," he agreed sternly. "But I won the wager." He kissed the shell of her ear before purring into it. "And I've decided that you cannot come until we reach our chambers. Can you wait until then, pretty girl?"

She shifted, trying against just to get friction. "You're cruel," she whispered.

"All is fair in love and war, my love," he grinned, lazily tracing over her clit again.

He took the reins back, guiding the horse the long way home.

……………………………….

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[othercrossee]

Volos still the true enemy btw

[softspiderling]

happy birthday! I'm here for 🏖️ ... can i request cregan x reader, and the word/trope is 'sister'? thanks!

ha ha. HAHAHA you’re so funny 😐 jokes on you because i’m writing it @eldrith

the secret of us | c.s

word count: 1k

author's note: this is my first time writing cregan so pls be gentle 🙂‍↕️also unbeta’d bc i wrote this for my beta bestie sister wife <3 (cringe)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“You wanted to speak, so speak.”

Stilling, you held your breath, hearing the voices next door. You were in the library - not the large one, accessible to everyone - no, you were in Cregan’s personal library. Calling it a library was generous, it was merely a small room right next to his study.

The same study, in which Cregan was holding council apparently, with what seemed to be Lord Karstark. The sound of the door shutting made you nervous; it must be an important meeting. You pressed yourself against the wall; you wouldn’t face any dire consequences if you were discovered, but it would be uncomfortable either way.

The chairs scraped against the stone floor as both men took their seats, Lord Karstark let out a small sigh.

“Your twenty fourth name day was a moon ago.”

Silence followed and you couldn’t see Cregan, but you just knew he was staring at Lord Karstark, waiting for him to continue. Lord Karstark took a breath, like he knew Cregan wouldn’t like the words that would follow.

"It is time for you to find a wife."

Your eye twitched at the prospect of Cregan taking a wife, despite knowing it was to be expected of him. His line of succession was at risk, with no direct heir. You had wondered when the time would come. Cregan let out a scoff, but there was no argument.

“I will consult the maester and we will have a list of suitable ladies ready for you on the morrow,” Lord Karstark said, his tone pleasant, like he hadn’t expected for Cregan to give in so easily. He guffawed however, when Cregan suddenly mentioned your name. You were in a similar state. Cregan couldn’t possibly be suggesting what you thought he was…

“What about her?” Lord Karstark asked carefully.

“What if I were to marry her?”

Your breath stocked in your throat and the book you were holding nearly slipped out of your grasp.

“She grew up in Winterfell, was raised on our customs. She would make a fine Lady Stark.”

“She’s your Ward.”

“She was my father’s Ward.”

Cregan’s voice was heated, and Lord Karstark stayed quiet and Cregan let out a displeased grunt.

"She's not my blood."

“She is your sister in everything but that,” Lord Karstark said. “It is not proper.”

“Leave.”

“My Lord,” Lord Karstark stammered. “I did not mean to insult you-”

“You said your piece,” Cregan stated, his tone even. “Leave. I have other business to attend to.”

The feet of the chair scraped against the stone floor again.

“My Lord.”

The door opened, before it shut again; but you still held your breath, hearing Cregan standing, moving around in his study. His heavy steps came towards the library and you quickly hurried to the furthest corner of the room, acting nonchalant when Cregan entered. If he was surprised to see you in the study, he did not let it show. He rarely did.

“Good day,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Cregan tilted his head, a silent greeting, as he watched you flit around the library.

Of course you had noticed his looks. His gaze lingering on you, the heated look on his face, the way his eyes followed along the line of your body. It wasn't how a man would look at his sister.

But you weren’t foolish enough to let yourself hope. He was the head of his house, the warden of the North, and you were merely a girl his father had taken in when you were a babe. You had nothing to offer were you to be Lady Stark.

The shelf next to the window caught your attention, and you slid the book you were holding back in its place as you studied the neighboring books.

“Find what you were looking for?”

You kept your gaze on the small book shelf, seeing Cregan move towards you out of the corner of your eyes.

“No,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the book spines. “Have you?”

You could feel the warmth of his hands before even touched you, his palms stretching around your ribcage as he flipped you around to face him, keeping his grip on your waist tight. Not tight enough to hurt, but just enough to make heat pool between your legs.

“Do not feign ignorance,” he whispered, one hand coming up to brush a tendril of hair behind your ear. “It does not become you.”

“I was not trying to listen,” you said defiantly, lifting your chin as you spoke. “Your voice travels.”

Cregan looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t often that he let his emotions show, but lately, it was more often than not. He stepped closer, his feet caging you in, his strong thighs brushing over your dress. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, an act of intimacy you rarely allowed yourself, but in the privacy of his study? It would be alright.

“What do you say?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “To me being your wife?”

Cregan merely blinked at you, not filling the silence but you only sighed, looking away.

“Lord Karstark is against it,” you muttered, evasive. But Cregan wouldn’t have any of it, cupping your chin with his hand, gently turning you to face him.

“Who is he to tell me who I can marry or not?” he asked with a soft voice. “I only care what you think. If you will have me, I will fight anyone who dares to protest.”

A grin tugged on your lips and you cast your eyes down, but Cregan ducked his head to keep your gaze, a frown on his forehead, uncertainty filling him.

“Will you be my wife?”

“Oh for Gods’ sake,” you laughed, swatting at his chest. “Of course I will be your wife.”

A smile lit up Cregan's face and he leaned down to capture your lips with his, pressing your against the bookshelf. With a soft sigh, you reciprocated, your hand diving into his dark hair. His lips were hot against yours, stroking the heat between your legs into a fire, but he pulled away, letting out a soft breath.

"My wife, Lady Stark," he declared and you huffed, shaking your head.

"We are not wed just yet, husband," you reminded him with a grin, the title rolling off your tongue easily, but Cregan only pulled you closer, his arms settling around your waist.

"My heart has been yours from the moment we first kissed, my love. We might as well be wed."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: also tagging my cregan girly @dipperscavern MY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION IS STILL ONGOING!!! head to my inbox/check my pinned post🤍

[cherryheairt]

Idea by @itsaslaminak tysm 🩷

In His Arms

Summary- Cregan Stark comforting his wife through a thunderstorm

named! reader with no desc, made up house between Dorne and the Reach.

not proofread just wanted to get something out. I've been so swamped

When Lenora discovered her betrothal to Lord Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, she was confused first and foremost. Her, a firstborn daughter of House Keaton, a house that bordered between the Reach and Dorne, a dry and arid place. Northerners hardly married anyone who wasn't born and bred in the North, let alone married from a house allied with Dorne. Never in Westeros history has such a marriage been prospected, but a sudden need for alliance had sprung up one Winter.

The Starks were in need of livestock in stead of the harsh winter, and Martells were in need of supplies and ships. A pact was made for an annual trade to by conducted every early winter, for as long as relations were well between the two kingdoms. With the Martell Princesses all being married off already, Prince Qoren decided to send a vassel house's daughter instead. So, Lord Lent Keaton provided his eldest daughter to Lord Stark in a marriage and trade alliance, providing a generation of trust between the Dornish and Northerners.

It had taken months to travel North, with Lenora dreading every step that brought her closer to her mysterious bethrothed. Her parents and ladies in waiting could not join her on such a far journey, their services needed elsewhere during the time, so Lenora was left with only two of her maids and the guards protecting her carriage. The weather, too, was almost unbearable. By the time she had gotten there, the boats of livestock had long since reached the North to get the people through the harsh winter. Winter was long over by her arrival. Though, it hardly seemed that way given the powdery show falling over her hair and shoulders the moment she stepped from her box.

A welcome party was in Winterfell's square to greet the young Lady, consisting of Lord Stark, his sister, and a few of his trusted council members and bannermen.

It was easy to tell which one was Cregan. With a broad and tall figure, dusty brown hair that was half tied back, and a massive brown pelt held over his shoulders and clasped together with the signature Stark direwolf. A long face, straight nose, and fine lips turned into a straight line. As she got closer, she noticed steely grey eyes to match the longsword strapped to his shoulder. An intimidating sight, one quite unlike the friendly faces of Dornish men.

Was he unhappy with her? Burdened by the fact that he had to marry a Dornish girl in order for his people to thrive in the cold winters? Or was it simply the face of a hardened Northerner? Lenora had heard they were all miserable and serious, even with their own close families. Glancing at Sara Snow, she wasn't quite sure of that. The girl's pale face was set in a charming smile as she bounced on her feet as if to contain her excitement.

Lenora was glad to see a friendly face in such a cold place. Perhaps even if her husband was distant, she could still have a friend to keep her company.

Her eyes trailed back to Cregan, who stepped forward to meet her. Tilting his chin down slightly, he grabbed her hand to meet her knuckles in a kiss that seemed too delicate for a man like him. "I welcome you to Winterfell, Lady Lenora. I hope your travels were not too arduous."

Even his voice was rough, with that thick Northen accent she had only heard in King's Landings' tourneys. The stark difference between his accent and the usual one of her own kin made her stomach stir with warm nerves, the tone pleasing to her ears.

"It was no trouble at all, my Lord. Though, I dare say that the bite of the North was not at all as I expected. I half-thought the tales of the permanent snow where merely exaggerations."

He smiled, showing a softer part of him that Lenora hadn't expected to see. Truthfully, she was unsure if he could smile at first sight. She decided it fit him well, and hoped such an expression oft graced his comely features.

"You'll find Winterfell much different than the summerlands of House Keaton, my Lady. I will ensure that you can acclimate to our lands quickly. I've had some warm dresses and pelts commissioned for you over the winter, if they please you." He offered an arm to Lenora, which she took with a warmed face.

He glanced up and down briefly at the young lady, assesing her clothes discreetly. She had taken her warmest gowns for her travels, though even bundled up with many blankets in the box, she did not find much warmth. Hopefully, North-made attire would prove to be more useful. The dress she wore now exposed more than she had seen on other women at the passing inns and small Northern towns. In the heat of Dorne, modesty was not taken so prudishly as it was in other places. People were free to wear thin silks, laces, and cottons as well as strappy and more revealing necklines. Skirts were thin and flowy, as they should be for ease of walking and air flow.

When visiting King's Landing, her outfits earned her more than a couple of prolonged stares, either of judgment or unveiled lust. She took them all in stride, only strutting past any onlookers with a striking confidence; as any Dornish lady should uphold.

Now, she couldn't help but feel sheepish under Cregan's steel gaze. Did he think her silly for not preparing garments herself over the winter? Or perhaps unfit to serve as Lady of Winterfell with such improper attire. Sara had dressed like a true Stark, with a light blue dress lined with wolf pelt at the wrists and collar along with brown gloves to match. Even while showing off little of her figure and only her face, she still looked a picture of Northern beauty with blue eyes and contrasing dark black hair.

"Anything you provide, I am most grateful for, my Lord. I am not a difficult person to please." She mentioned, tilting her head up to meet his eyes as they walked into the Great Keep.

Inside, it was much warmer. Lenora felt the Keep's ancient. presence surround her like a safety blanket. It was a heavy feeling, much different from the open walls of her own family house.

As if noticing her relief, Cregan started, "Winterfell is built on a group of hot springs, keeping it warm throughout all the seasons. The water lines the walls," he nodded towards the stone walls surronding them. "To keep us warm. You will find it most comfortable in the Keep, but I hope that does not deter you from exploring Winterfell and Winter Town as you please."

Lenora nodded, taking the halls in and memorizing them as they walked. "I am excited to meet the people of Winter Town. I hope to settle in to my duties quicky." She said pointedly, glancing at Cregan to guage his reaction. Many lords in the Crownlands, Reach, and Stormlands did not care for their wives beyond just making heirs, and so they were often cast aside and did not have any duties to take care of. Lenora grew up with her mother and father both being busy constantly with their duties, sharing the burden as head of a great House.

Winterfell was an even greater House yet, one that Lenora hoped to be welcomed to by the commonfolk and leige lords alike. That started with being active in the communities, and an attentive Lady.

He nodded, "I will let you get adjusted to the North before anything else. After the wedding, and the honeymoon period, I will teach you the duties of a Stark Lady." Cregan promised her kindly.

Lenora was grateful for the immediate response, and found herself eager for this arrangement. 'A Stark Lady' ran through her mind many times as she settled into her temporary chambers. She liked the sound of it.

Many moon turns later, Lenora had turned her attentions almost fully to her duties. Organizing the Great Keep's staff, taking care of Winter Town's events and charities, and so on. She took to it naturally, with Cregan's help, and found the commonfolk of Winterfell had accepted their new Southern Wardeness with open hearts.

Cregan, too, shared that sentiment. Though the wedding was a beautiful affair, it was a bit tense given that the bride and groom were only just acquainted. The honeymoon weeks were spent purely in each other's company to get to know the other. Horseback rides in the mornings, hunts in the afternoons, settling down in their marital chambers in the evenings; all their days were spent in content and relaxation. At the end of their honeymoon, they finally felt comfortable enough to perform the bedding ceremony without the watchful eyes of any Lords or maesters.

Though Lenora had shown no signs of being with child yet, she was still content. Cregan showed no comtempt with the matter either, telling his wife that a child would come when it was time, should the Gods will it. She agreed quite happily, secretly enjoying having her Lord husband all to herself.

On night's like these, she was ever more grateful for it. After they finished their separate days, Lenora and Cregan settled into bed together. Lenora, in a baby blue night shift and Cregan, in only a loose pair of trousers.

Lenora had oft told Cregan how comforting it was to listen to his heartbeat as she fell asleep, so he took to sleeping without a tunic since their first days together. The chill was kept away by the many pelts on their bed and their own body heat combined.

With her head lying on his chest and his large hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly, she felt herself drifting from the light conversation.

"...not to worry too much about the solstace feast."

"Hm?" Lenora murmured, lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Cregan smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "Never mind, we can discuss that in the morrow. Go to sleep, my girl." He said quietly, kissing her hairline gently.

Unable to resist sleep's great temptation, she only hummed and placed her head back in its place. Thump, thump, thump, and she was asleep.

Lenora was woken by a thunderstrike. It crashed with a piecing 'bang!' and left her jerking awake.

The sound of pouring rain upon cobblestone roofs and glass windows surrounded her on all sides. Bright shots of lightning peeked in from the window in their chambers, followed by more thunderstrikes. Lenora flinched harshly, each strike sending a spike of fear into her heart.

She had rainstorms, of course. But none as ferocious as this one. Never such loud, nauseating thunder and bright lightning in her homeland. Duststorms were common back in her childhood homeland, something she could handle easily. This was a complete turn from that.

When another strike hit, sounding ever more close to Winterfell's keep, she clutched onto whatever her hand was rested on. Coincidentally, it was Cregan's forearm. He stirred then, lifting a hand to his eyes to rub at them tiredly. "What's wrong, my girl?" He murmured.

How had he slept through the noise? Was he so unconcerned with a flood happening, or the roof collapsing under the weight of so much water. Or fire, struck on the Wolfswood trees by stray thunder?

"The storm." She hissed worriedly. He sat up, moving his hand on top of hers and rubbing atop her knuckles soothingly.

"What of it?"

"I've never seen one so strong. Will the Keep not flood, or the woods catch fire? We should prepare—"

A deep chuckle came from beside her. At Lenora's confused and panicked look, Cregan shook his head and cleared his throat.

"'Tis Summer, wife. Monsoon season is upon us for some weeks, it happens every year. We are well prepared for anything that happens. Our roofs are slanted for rain to slide right down, our food is stored in sealed silos, and fires stand no chance of spreading with such heavy rain."

Lenora's heart slowed slightly, calmed at the thought of Winterfell being safeguarded by its years of tradition and preparation. Though, she was not completely calmed by his words alone. The pelting of drops hitting the roof and window still made her veins feel ice-cold, even with the hearth still running strong in their chambers.

Cregan reached out to grasp her face gently in his hands. "It will be like this for only a short time. We are safe in here, I promise you."

She nodded, clutching onto his large hand with one of her own as she leaned into his warm embrace. There, he held her firmly to his chest as he stroked her hair. Kissing the crown of her head, he spoke. "Shall I fetch more pelts? You are shivering, my heart."

Lenora shook her head, not wishing to part from his arms. "Just stay here with me, please."

"Of course." He obliged, succumbing to her whims as easily as the wind blew seeds from a dandelion. His wife came before all else, after all.

Slowly, he layed them both back down on the bed. Covering them up snug under the thick pelts of fur, Cregan rested his wife's head to his chest, covering her exposed ear with a cupped hand.

Wordlessly, he soothed her without needing to be asked. Never annoyed at her soft demeaner, he delighted in taking care of his beloved wife.

Comforted by his steady heartbeat instead of the thundering rain outside of the Keep, Lenora found herself drifting back into the welcoming and warm arms of sleep. Cregan stayed up all the while, ensuring his wife could not be disturbed again that night. He kept a hand held over her ear, adjusting to fit around her whenever she shifted in her sleep. His over arm lie firmly over her waist, rubbing circles at the small of her back distractingly.

Lenora did not wake again that night, oblivious to the raging storm outside. Every night after that, during the season of monsoons in Winterfell, Cregan was exceptionally careful that she rested throughout the night and was never scared again by the storms.

[manhandlememando]

loving you is a bloodsport. | cregan stark

cregan stark x f!Mormont!reader

format: one-shot

tw: (buckle up y’all, we’re in for a ride) MDNI warning: attempted SA, heavy gore, violence and resulting injury descriptions, BLOOD, descriptions of injury to an animal, ptsd symptoms, anxiety attacks, language, blatant sexism, female rage, enraged/feral Cregan (the warning is very necessary he almost bites off someone's finger)

NSFW warning: this work has sexual elements not suitable for those under 18 years old. please MDNI. (piv sex, oral (both receiving), face fucking, praise kink, sickly sweet Cregan, semi-rough sex, the Stark breeding kink, THEY BREAK THE HEADBOARD), no physical description of reader other than female anatomy and hair that is somewhat long.

word count: 12.3k

song inspirations: talk by Hozier, moments silence (common tongue) by Hozier, me and the devil by Soap&Skin, girl with one eye by Florence and the Machine, brutus by The Buttress, seven devils by Florence and the Machine, devil’s backbone by The Civil Wars, shallows by Daughter, foreigners god by Hozier, it will come back by Hozier, to be alone by Hozier

excerpt: The growl that escaped the beast reverberated throughout the small pit, being felt within the chests of all the men spectating. However, fear eluded her as she looked into the animals eyes, accepting her fate with a fury. The cry that left her as she charged the creature could have caused even the most barbarous of warriors to quell in fear. Dodging the swipe of its large paws, she lunges forward with the small blade that was provided to her. If she is to die here, it will be a death of integrity knowing she was more like the beast in front of her than anything as meek as the men watching from above. They will not take my strength, she thought as the claws of the grizzly descended upon her.

- or -

Lady Stark is abducted in the night from the walls of Winterfell by a vassal house of the Starks. Thinking that by placing his wife into the jaws of a grizzly, the Warden of the North would bend to their will. They do not know how mistaken they are.

this story is dedicated to all those who have felt the heavy hand of the patriarchy upon their shoulders, or have fallen victim to it. i see you, i hear you, our rage is valid. keep fighting.

It was a commanding sort of presence that she held, not forceful, but one of reserved strength that cultivated respect amongst the people of Winterfell. Their Warden of the North and Liege Lord had chosen wisely in his marriage pact with House Mormont.

It was this same conserved ferocity that drew him to her, he could feel the magnetic pull of her tenacious spirit the second he was in her acute vicinity. Her eyes held a look that was as firm as stone, and her mind was as sharp as a blade. It was known that the women of House Mormont held a certain standing on their island that couldn’t be found in much of Westeros; women could be rulers, and warriors. Having been raised by her father, Lord Mormont, after the passing of her mother in childbirth. The young girl grew into a fearsome woman, having been trained as the successor to the Mormont line, she was raised as any heir would be; as a son. Given her families ancestral sword, Long Claw, at the age of just six and ten she was a formidable fighter in just two years time. With the full understanding of how she would be viewed as the “weaker sex” by the men on her fathers council, she made sure to mold herself into one of the most indisputable warriors on the small island. No man dared to raise a sword against her unless they wanted to be met with the what most referred to as the “she-beast”.

Cregan knew from the moment they met that he would wed her. They were young when they first made each others acquaintance, not more than 10 years of age. She had traveled with her father to attend the annual feast which House Stark held in the Great Keep of Winterfell. He still remembers seeing her for the first time as she descended from the wheelhouse that she had ridden in. Feeling his heart clench and his throat go dry, Cregan was not normally at a loss for words, but her whole presence consumed him. She was like sunlight embodied, a miracle born within a person. Her beauty touched everything in her vicinity with its warm glow. It was hard for him to look anywhere else when she was near. It was an instinctual feeling, one that arose within him being something involuntary and foreign to him. As if it had been whispered to him long ago by the Old Gods themselves; she will be your wife, someday.

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The flesh of his back had been clawed raw. Teeth marks and deep bruises left behind by her violent kisses had begun to blossom on Cregan’s neck and shoulders. She is a bear, indeed, Cregan thought to himself as an amused expression crossed his face. Gazing at his reflection in the looking glass in the corner of their marital chambers.

The bedchamber was a haven for both of them, the privacy lending itself to their most animalistic acts. The two had been wed only a day previously, not being able to leave the sanctity of their post-coital bliss much before falling back into one another. Ripped clothing strewn across furniture, fur pelts and pillows lined the floor, the carved wooden headboard now on the verge of cracking due to the fissures created in the wood as they tore into each other.

The bedding ceremony never seemed to end, although it never truly began as Cregan refused to allow anyone to view such an intimate act. Feeling incredibly protective over his newlywed, he would hear no argument on the matter because her body was for his indulgence, and his only.

Although, for those living within the walls of the castle it was very apparent that the consummation had taken place, many times. The sounds which echoed throughout the castle that night could be heard by all as Cregan led her to her highest peaks over and over again. But the symphony of pleasure didn’t stop once the sun graced the horizon, or even when it was touching the highest point in the sky.

However they had grown increasingly hungry as the night grew closer and dusk layered its deep blues around the fading light on the horizon. The stars beginning to seep through the darkening navy sky, as if surfacing from the black ocean where they swim to look upon the Earth as the eyes of world did the same to them. Standing upon the balcony which sat just off of their bedchamber, she took a long breath as a small smile rose to her lips, turning her eyes to the shining specks in the sky.

How lucky am I? She thought to herself, knowing that she no longer had to prove herself worthy of a station, or a role in a council. Having been raised as the heir to Bear Island she had always felt a sense of pressure to encapsulate the image of the "perfect daughter". However, her father thought she did not see his disapproving glares or glances of doubt or disappointment as the time passed. He wanted a son, not her. But now she finally knew what it felt like to be wanted, having not known the feeling from her father in her lifetime, it was an emotion she couldn’t even put into words. Her father cared for her, to an extent, but mainly treated her as a thing to be trained and disciplined, rather than a daughter to be loved.

“Darling?” She heard Cregan call from somewhere inside, pulling her from her thoughts. Moments later the large wooden door creaked open as he finally appeared, the softest smile gracing his face as he laid eyes upon her.

“What’re you doing out here? You’ll catch a chill, my love,” his voice laced with concern as he pulled the wool housecoat from his shoulders and placed it around hers.

“I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air before we go dine for the night,” she responds, smiling as he pulls her into him.

“We have worked up quite an appetite, have we not?” Cregan teases, leaning down to brush his nose with hers. “Shall we go?” He asks softly, his lips brushing hers as he speaks. She nods and giggles as he swallows her answer in a kiss. It would be a miracle if they made it to the dining room at all.

————————————————————————

The food prepared for the Lord and Lady of Winterfell was decedent and rich, warming her stomach and easing the hunger that began to naw away at her gut.

“Does the foodstuffs suffice, my love?” Cregan asks, looking at her with an amused expression on his face. She was almost inhaling her meal, the answer to his question being quite obvious. She nodded as she took another bite, humming in contentment at the burst of flavor in her mouth.

They sat in silence as they each devoured what was left on their plates, sharing kind glances and small laughs of amusement. After they had finished dining, he beckoned one of the servants to bring forth their dessert. However, his breath seemed to escape him as he felt a hand begin to creep up his inner thigh.

She had reached under the tablecloth and begun to slowly move her hand to the rapidly growing bulge in her husbands trousers.

“My mischievous wife, what do you think you’re doing?” Cregan whispered, giving her a warning glance as the dessert was placed in front of each of them. She didn’t respond, only sliding her hand further up his thigh. He had to suppress a groan as her palm grazed his hard length, giving the serving butler a curt nod and dismissing the rest of the staff from the dining room. As he hears the rumble of large hinges moving and wood connecting, he knows they are finally alone.

“I think you know exactly what I’m doing, dear husband,” she said as she sank herself onto the soft pelt on the floor beneath the table. Crawling beneath the expansive wooden slab to appear between Cregan’s knees, a smirk dancing on her lips as she licked them in anticipation.

“You will be my dessert, my love. I desire nothing more than what you have to offer me,” she said in a low seductive voice, beginning to undo the thin strings of his breaches. Cregan stared at her with eyes the size of the serving platters resting on the table. His mouth hung slightly agape and a soft moan escaped his plush lips as she finally released him from the confines of his breaches and smallclothes.

“I do not deserve this, let us continue in our -,” Cregan begins to reason, not seeing the point in allowing her to indulge him when he’d done nothing to deserve it. But before he could finish his nonsensical statement, he was cut off in a loud moan as she took him fully in her mouth. The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat immediately, causing her to gag slightly but she was not discouraged from her actions. Only opening her throat more to accommodate her well-endowed husband.

“Fuck… oh dear Gods,” he groaned, his breath staggered as his hands tightly gripped the arms of the dining chair, his self control beginning to lack as she continued her heavenly ministrations. As she rose to the tip of his cock, she revealed the sensitive head to her lips, kissing his leaking tip and circling her tongue around it. Cregan could barely think, the sweet whimpers and moans falling from his lips caused a burning coal of desire to ignite in her womb. She adored the way he could hardly say her name without it transforming into a delicious groan of ecstasy.

“My love - Seven hells… oh fuck,” Cregan couldn’t form a sentence before another moan would swallow his words and leave him breathless. Looking towards the ceiling with brows furrowed and his jaw slack with pleasure, Cregan was a sinful sight to the Gods.

She slowly ascended off of him, bringing her lips to the base of his length and laying a kiss to the sensitive spot that laid just above his heavy balls. She relished in the choked groan that the action elicited from him, Cregan's hand grasping her hair so tightly it stung but she only hummed at the sensation. The vibration of her moan as she took him back into her mouth sent Cregan into a heady space, suddenly feeling himself lose any sense of restraint. The hand that was laced into her hair moved to the back of her neck as he sat up somewhat, gasping and panting as they shifted position. The hand that wasn’t anchored to her was tightly gripping the top corner of the chair as his hips shifted to change the angle; he wants leverage.

Just as the thought ran through her head she felt his hips buck upward, beginning to slowly move in rhythm with her mouth. She let him take control of the pace after several more thrusts had hit the back of her throat. She knew Cregan loved it when she allowed him to fuck her mouth. He tried to be gentle, he really did. But within a minute of such actions he was gripping the hair at the back of her neck with a force as he arched his back and drove more power into his thrusts. He often got lost in the oasis that was her form, his love and lust mixing and becoming so intense even he became blinded to his strength. Although he would never intentionally bring harm to her.

As she took a fleeting look up towards his face, she wasn’t able to find her breath at the sight before her. His head was thrown back, mouth open in an illicit moan, neck strained and flushed red. His Adam's Apple protruding and bobbing along with his moans. The scarlet hue disappeared down past the collar of the thick tunic he wore, his chiseled chest out of view. However, she knew full well how far down that sea of hot, flushed skin really went. She could see how his body was arching off the back of the chair, muscles in his arms flexing with the strain of each thrust. The only thing keeping him from falling off his perch on the edge being his other arm finding purchase on the back of the chair. In that moment he looked down to her and seeing those beautiful hues in her irises staring back at him, he felt himself tip over the edge into the Seven heavens themselves.

She felt the slight stutter of his hips and with a final deep thrust into her throat he came with a howl of a groan.

"OH - ngghh - fuck... yes, fuck like that," he gasped, a low whine rupturing from deep within his chest, trying to ground himself as his wife continued to slowly drag him through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He slumped against the steep back of the dining chair, his legs trembling as he spread them wider and his hands found purchase on the arms of the chair once again. She finally lifted her mouth from his cock, her lips glistening with a mixture of spit and his arousal. He chuckled lightly at the sight.

She is a gift bestowed upon this Earth by the Old Gods themselves, he thought to himself.

"I do not deserve you," he said as he smiled softly, reaching a hand down to cradle her jaw as she hummed in contentment at his words. "You are more angel than human, I am astounded by you with every passing moment we share with one another. I love you, I do hope you know that," Cregan spoke, the sentiment behind his statement clear within his words as well as his tone. His eyes searching hers, looking for an answer.

"I do know, my dear husband. I know very well, and I love you just the same," she said, a smile gracing her features as she rose from the floor beneath the table. Grabbing Cregan's breaches from the furs and handing them to him with a smirk, she moved back to her seat to his left at the large table.

"Shall we finish our dessert?" She asked cheekily, and his only response was a hearty laugh that filled the room with his joy.

————————————————————————

Several weeks following their wedding, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were torn from their bed in the night. It is still unclear to Cregan how his men had been so easily overwhelmed, how he hadn't heard anything, or seen anything. No one had.

It was as if he had woken from a slumber into a nightmare itself. Cregan felt himself be ripped from the sheets and dragged to the floor before he had a moment to comprehend exactly what was happening.

He reached for his beloved but was met with empty air and soon opened his eyes to find her being held up by her hair, whimpering in pure terror as Lord Bolton loomed over her. Feeling the strong arms of some of Bolton's guards beginning to constrict themselves around Cregan, he fought against them as hard as he could.

"You bastard! What in the Seven Hell's is going on? Let her go, don't you dare touch her!" Cregan yelled, beginning to thrash against the men trying to contain him. Lord Bolton only chuckled darkly as he then took her by the neck and hauled her towards him.

She let out a choked cough as his palm pressed her airway. Pinning her back to his chest with his hand still snaked around her neck, she began struggling against him and clawing at his wrists.

“You foolish… foolish girl!” Lord Bolton exclaimed, wrestling against her as she continued to thrash against him. Holding her still with him other arm, Lord Bolton finally subdued her.

“The ties between House Mormont and House Stark will be forever broken tonight. The Stark household has had control of the North for far too long, and with this new union it is made clear to all other vassal houses that they are less important. It is whispered we will have less say in certain matters, and that this bitch and her feeble House Mormont has more standing than mine own,” Lord Bolton seethed, releasing her neck and yanking at Lady Starks hair once more. She let out a small huff to shroud her discomfort, she would never show weakness to this man as long as she could help it. Although, as she looked at Cregan who was now being held to the floor of their bedchambers, she felt the small trickle of terror slip down her neck and root itself into her spine.

“I will not let that stand,” Lord Bolton snarled and nodded to one of his men to step forward. With much difficulty he was able to get a black hood over the woman’s head, his fingers narrowly dodging her nashing teeth. Cregan bellowed as he fought against the hands holding him down, barely allowing a hood to be placed over his head as well. Spewing profanities and declarations of violence, Cregan tried to make his voice sound as poisonous as possible. But through his verbal assault he could hear her slight gasps and whimpers of pain, and not being able to see what was befalling his wife, his panic grew tenfold.

“Bolton I’ll have your fucking head for this!” Cregan barked, yanking at the hands on his limbs as they hauled him from the ground and to his feet. He could still hear her growling at Lord Bolton, hearing a shuffled noise and a clear sound of struggle, Cregan’s breath hitched as his throat closed. He was powerless, his vision stripped from him and his strength subdued.

“Get off of me you sinister man!” She shrieked as she felt Lord Bolton grab at her waist and snake his arms around her from the back, holding her tightly to him. He had since been able to tie her hands behind her, with much difficulty. Therefore she was powerless to the blade she could feel against her neck. As she tried to pull away from his taunting grip the blade cut into the skin of her throat causing her to shout in pain, the abrupt sound ending in a rumble of fury.

“I will slit this beautiful throat like that of a lamb for slaughter,” Lord Bolton sneered to her.

“You’re fucking dead, Bolton! You’re dead! I’ll kill you myself, get the FUCK OFF MY WI-!” She heard Cregan roar from what sounded like only ten feet in front of her, only to be cut off by the sound of a crack of metal meeting skull. The slump of his body could be heard faintly as he fell limp into the men’s arms. She was then dragged from the bedchamber and into the halls of Winterfell, the bitter cold of the stone floor scraping against her bare feet.

"The Stark family has had too much say in the matters of the North over these many years, they are not the only house capable of holding The Wall. Have you ever wondered what it could be like if your father ruled as the Warden of the North? Or... possibly myself?" Lord Bolton ventured in his treasonous explanation of how he would take control of the castle, as he had already done with some of the Stark's guardsmen. She was struck then with the notion that Lord Bolton and the men he brought with him must have had help to enter and now exit the Keep without being noticed.

"Who have you been conspiring with in these treacherous plans? How did you gain access to the Kee- ," she begins to question sharply, not giving him any recognition on his comments. Only until she is struck again, this time blood sprouting from a small cut on her lip. The taste of iron and musk on her tongue only angered her more.

"Shut up, you stupid woman. You dare interrupt me when I am speaking to you? Such behavior will not be tolerated when you are my wife," Lord Bolton sneered, she could feel his hot breath through the dark cloth of the hood, recoiling from him at his statement. Beginning to pull against Lord Bolton once more, she spoke her rejections to the union loudly, trying desperately to get free of this torment. In her effort to evade her captor, she received the same end as her lord husband as she was knocked unconscious.

————————————————————————

She did not know how long she had been unconscious or where it was she had been taken, but by the biting feeling against her wrists and the throb in her head she knew the attack wasn’t a nightmare. The Lord and Lady of Winterfell had been kidnapped and many of their guards slaughtered. Feared gripped at her chest as she felt rough hands on her arms holding her still, and the cold bite of the wind against the exposed skin of her hands and upper chest only furthered her anxiety. Was she outside? She thought so, but even with the hood over her head she could barely tell if it was night or day.

“Has she awoken?” She hears Lord Bolton ask somewhere in the distance and the soft padding of feet on muddy ground neared towards her. Suddenly she felt a strong grip on her arm, gasping at the brutality of it as her skin stung with the aggression of his hold on her. Feeling herself being let go by those who held her previously, she was then pulled forward, her feet betrayed her once more as she stumbled in the mud.

“Come here,” she heard Lord Bolton growl as he yanked her upright, her stumble having caused her to fall to her knees.

With a flash of blinding light the hood is then torn from her head, and she is not able to see her surroundings for a moment or two as her eyes adjusted to the light of day. However, she could hear Cregan’s protests from somewhere close, but they were muffled. Sounding as if he was trying to speak through wads of fabric.

They fucking gagged him, she thought as she felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach. The emotion making its way into her body as the flames of ferocity licked up her spine and finally nestled themselves in her chest cavity, making a home in her heart. As her eyes adjusted, they burned holes into the figure before her; Lord Bolton finally coming into focus.

She could see the smug expression wash over his sharp features, twisting them into something more sinister than that of what lied within. She despised this man, and all like him. The audacity of man knew no bounds, reaching far and wide, ever perpetuated by its own grueling ends; unable to breed love for one another, men would sooner tear each other apart then see vulnerability conquer over power. As for the women and innocent, the vulnerable and the weak, it is them who are forever afflicted with the agony of oppression, the pain seeping deep into their bones and finding a final resting place in the generations to come.

She knew this, she had known all her life what it felt like to want to be a son. Although her father granted her the liberty of becoming the heir to the Mormont household, it became quite clear what his true intentions for her were when the marriage proposal from Cregan was accepted. Her uncle was then named heir to the seat she had been promised since her first breath.

Men had already disappointed her more times than she could count, and although she did love Cregan dearly, her father had broken her heart as he had his promise to her. Therefore, she did not fear Lord Bolton or his threats towards her, even as he grabbed her by the chin and forced her to meet his eye. Her response was only to sneer and spit in his sullen face, his expression morphing into one of disgust as he brought his hand across her face with a quick slap. Watching his wife be struck, Cregan could be heard roaring against the fabric that had been shoved in his mouth, soft grunts of effort could also be heard escaping Lord Bolton's men as they tried to wrangle Cregan into standing still. The disgraced Northern Lord turned towards her lord husband with a rather nauseating smile. Yanking her forward he neared Cregan enough to reach out and take the dark fabric from her husbands mouth, barely moving his hand away before Cregan could catch it in his teeth.

"Tell me, Stark, is she an obedient wife? She seems fiery in nature, is she the same to bed?" Lord Bolton asked, turning to look back at her as his grip on her arms tightened.

"No! No, no please!" She shrieked as she felt him tear her robe from around her frame, leaving her in only a thin shift. Pulling away from him, digging her bare feet into the earth as she tried to escape his hold. Her hands and wrists ached as she tugged at the twine that had bound them behind her. Her breath beginning to come to her in short bursts as the true reality of the situation had sunk in. Cregan was making threats of terrifying violence towards all those present and participating in this coup. Hurling vile insults at Lord Bolton as he practically foamed at the mouth with fury. However, beneath the horrifying facade Cregan adorned, he was struck with fear to his core.

"Stop. Fighting." The vile brute of a man grunted as he tried to control the woman in his grip. She looked to Cregan then who could be heard howling in protest the entire time, continuing his struggles against the limbs of the men holding him. He held her gaze, the terror reflecting between them as his heart broke over and over again. Cregan couldn't protect her, and as much as he tried, he couldn't seem to free himself. Although, at the thought of being made to watch the horror before him as Lord Bolton took hold of the one thing in the world that could affect him, Cregan vowed he would die before allowing it to happen.

The woman was proving a worthy adversary to the Lord of the Dreadfort, continuing to evade his full control over her as she slipped from his grip once more. Her arms were welted and showing the signs of the struggle she was putting forth. The cold of the wind seemed to lash at her limbs that were now fully exposed to the elements. Her robe had been stripped from her and she stood before the men in just her cotton sleeping shift. The fabric was thin and pale and left little to be desired from the view of her frame, she saw the young knights of the Dreadfort and how their eyes wouldn’t move from her, even if they put in an effort too. Bile rose from deep within her throat at the thought of not only this disgraceful man taking advantage of her against her will, but also knowing it would be for all else to see.

Although the fear was prevalent in her mind, the adrenaline was finally beginning to kick in as she felt the hairs on her body stand at attention. With a final tug of her body from Lord Bolton’s grasp, she stumbled and fell into the muddy earth of the pit below.

With a sharp gasp and piercing shriek she hit the ground hard, causing the wind to evade her lungs and a struggling gasp to pass her lips. Having been standing so close to the edge of the circular, wood-paneled ring, it was not surprising that she had fallen over the edge in her attempt to finally get away from the Lord of the Dreadfort.

She could hear the menacing laughter emanating from above her, the vile sound bouncing between Lord Bolton's men and the Lord himself.

"It seems our entertainment will begin sooner than expected, boys!" Lord Bolton announced, walking towords Cregan, addressing him as he did. "See, I had planned on taking her as my own as the Gods bare witness, as well as yourself. Prolonging your pain would be more satisfying than flaying a man alive, which is my custom as you well know, but it seems the Gods have other plans. After consumating the union of my new marriage, I was going to leave you to the beast and watch as it mauled you for our wedding entertainment. But this seems to prove more interesting, does it not?" Lord Bolton smirks and Cregan only bellowed louder. "If she survives, she will be my prize, and I will have the pleasure of killing the Warden of the North myself," Lord Bolton sneered as Cregan spit at him. The fury behind Cregan's eyes was unhinged, dragon fire could not even compare.

Wiping the saliva from his face, Lord Bolton only grinned, "Hold him still. I want him to see all of this," he said to his men. Cregan couldn't think straight, the fire residing within him spreading across his entire body as he pushed and pulled against the men holding him in his place. Looking down into the muddy pit below, he could see a door being opened to reveal a large, formidable animal, and the fear that gripped his wife as she struggled to free her hands.

She looked up to be met with a mass of dark fur and the small dark eyes of the massive creature before her. A bear, the sigil of House Mormont, a beast that she was raised to respect and model her own spirit after. Something she found strength in, a force akin to religion, something to find faith in; and now she was being made to destroy that of which she had built her own strength upon. The notion of it all was revolting. Looking around her, she drew in shaky breaths, she searched for any form of weapon to defend herself with. In that instant Lord Bolton seemed to find a sliver of remorse in his heart and tossed a small blade down to her, smirking as he did so. The bear emitted a thunderous roar as it began to circle the circumference of the small pit. She brought the blade to the twine still binding her hands behind her back and was able to free herself after somewhat of a struggle, moving away from the carnal animal as she did so. Fear subsided to her more natural instincts and suddenly her head became clear. She looked up to meet the eyes of the bear before her, drawing in deep breaths and settling into a skin that was known to her; the skin of the "she-beast".

My old friend, how good it is to have you with me again, she thought to herself. She would not allow these men to diminish her power or to take it from her. Every woman is born with the rage of their mother nestled deep within their chest, the resulting anger of years of being made less than human. The sorrow of being made to sacrifice their bodies and their souls for a man's pleasure, weighed upon her shoulders. She could feel it, she always had. It seemed accustomed to every woman she had ever met, to share a deep-seeded understanding that this world was not made for us, but for us to attend to. She refused that notion, and in this moment when no other woman was there to share this fury and sorrow with her, she decided to embody it herself, for all those who didn't have a chance to fight. For all those who were made less than, or treated as only a body to be taken. They will not take this from me, she vowed to herself.

The growl that escaped the beast reverberated throughout the small pit, being felt within the chests of all the men spectating. However, fear eluded her as she looked into the animals eyes, accepting her fate with a fury. The cry that left her as she charged the creature could have caused even the most barbarous of warriors to quell in fear. Dodging the swipe of its large paws, she lunges forward with the small blade that was provided to her. If she is to die here, it will be a death of integrity knowing she was more like the beast in front of her than anything as meek as the men watching from above. They will not take my strength, she thought as the claws of the grizzly descended upon her. Her mind had been captivated by adrenaline, her muscles now following in the steps of combat that they had walked before. Although she had never faced such a formidable opponent as this beast, she knew her training would serve her well. She rolled to evade the claws of the bear, ducking beneath its giant form and bringing the blade to its underbelly as she did so. An agitated sound escaped the brute as she cut into its fur, resulting with a swipe of its large paw in her direction. However, this time she wasn't quick enough to side step the beast and its claws caught her collarbone and ripped the flesh open. A scream of agony left her and she stumbled to the outer part of the fighting pit. The bear's eyes met hers once more and she could see the bloodthirsty look reflected within them. The beast snarled and ran towards her, outstretching another paw to swipe at her again, but she managed to dodge it once more and bring the blade across the creature's arm this time. This only resulted in more fury from the beast, a deep grumble of rage came from its bared teeth.

I can do this, she thought to herself as the bear stalked her along the edge of the ring, contemplating its next move. There was a moment of stillness between them, as if they were both assessing the other and its next move. Although, she knew it wouldn't be long before another move was made, so she chose hers. With a terrifying yell she charged the beast, it rose on its hindquarters with its two front paws out to block the blow, but as she got near it, she ducked. Deceiving the beast and sliding in the mud towards its belly. The blade was firm in her hand as she drove it into the creatures heart, twisting it as deep as she could, so the hilt was half-way into its flesh. A pained cry came from the animal, and it slumped over her, still thrashing its paws at whatever it could reach. She only drove her own body deeper under the bear, trying to avoid the creatures talons as much as possible.

Cregan watched in horror as the whole ordeal played out, not knowing if his wife would survive or not. When she disappeared in the mound of fur his heart clenched at the notion that she would not emerge.

When she arose from beneath the creature, it was as if the bloodthirsty beast had become her. Drenched in deep maroon, her torn shift clung to her form as the blood created small streams down her limbs. It matted her hair and splattered her face in a nauseating way, creating an image that struck fear into the souls of all bearing witness. As she lifted her gaze, she was met with the sight of Lord Bolton descending from his perch at the edge of the pit.

“You don’t have a choice, anymore,” he spoke in a tone laced with malice and smugness, as if taking claim to her before even placing a hand on her.

“NO! Don’t you dare touch her, you cunt!” Cregan screamed, finding more strength in his limbs and beginning to fight back against those holding him still. The three men had to be assisted by two others as Cregan had broken one of his hands free and connected it to the nearest jaw he saw. Cregan was spouting profanities at Bolton’s men as he was once again pinned to the cold ground. Two of the men now holding each of his legs, two pinning both of his arms, and one having to climb on top of Cregan in order to prevent him from getting up. However, the man holding his left arm down was not paying enough attention to the positioning of his hand upon the Lord’s shoulder. Cregan lunged his head down and caught the man’s pinky between his teeth, and without a second thought he bit down, hard. The man shrieked in pain and recoiled from Cregan in seconds. His pinky still intact but bent at an angle and would sport a nasty scar at the base of it for the rest of the man’s life.

Cregan only smiled, a sickening sight as his mouth was stained crimson. With his hand now free he reaches behind him to unsheathe one of the other’s swords, and then in an instant he rolled to his right, causing the man perched atop him to fall to the ground. It took Cregan a moment to gather his mind, because before swinging the sword as he glanced over and saw how Lord Bolton was stalking towards her. He was beginning to undo his cloak and doublet, it only further spurned the fire that was burning hot in Cregan’s chest. However more men who had been spectating came to replace those of whom suffered the Wolf of the North’s wrath and had fallen to him. Although, this time they did not pin him. Instead choosing to hold him upright with a blade to his neck, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to watch as the devil descended upon his wife. Cregan refused to show weakness, but in his chest arose panic and fear as he struggled against the men’s hold on him. Small cuts littering his neck as the blade was pushed harder against it.

“I’ll slit your fucking throat, don’t think I won’t,” the man holding the knife whispered into Cregan’s ear.

“And I’ll have your head for this,” Cregan spit back, yanking his body forward once more as the men stumbled with him. His strength a hard match for the four men it took to hold him in place. The blade dug into his skin but he didn’t care, the pain of the small knife was nothing compared to what he was being made to witness.

She let Lord Bolton approach, standing as if stone had solidified her muscles, but pulled taught as if ready to spring. The moment his hand outstretched towards her chest she reacted, swiftly ducking beneath his reach and taking hold of his exposed wrist and plunging her knife deep into the supple skin. Only releasing the blade when she felt the crunch of bone as it connected.

Lord Bolton screamed and crumpled around the fatal wound, holding his limp hand in his grasp. Towering over his quivering form she lifted a leg and connected her foot to the man’s shoulder, easily pushing him to the ground. As he continued to whimper and gasp in the depths of pain, she slowly descended upon his form. Kneeling beside him as she lowered her mouth to his ear.

“Any sane woman would choose a feral beast over the threat of a meager man and his cock, every time. Know this, Lord Bolton, fore if you leave the woman to the bear long enough she will learn its ways, and will return to rip your heart from your chest while adorning a smile," she whispered, her bloodstained lips twisting into a malicious smirk.

"Seven Hells," Lord Bolton cowered, wincing at her words.

"Yes... I do hope you experience every single one of them, and when you meet with each of the seven devils, tell them who sent you; they should learn my name," she growls, her face only inches from his, and he could see then that this unadulterated rage with which she embodied was going to be his demise. It was then that she arose to her feet, grasping the man's sword as she did so.

Too enthralled in her own fury, she was not perceptive of how the audience before her had gone quiet. The men of House Bolton becoming increasingly aware of their Lord's imminent death. With a final cry she drove Lord Bolton's own sword into his chest, spearing him through the heart. The blood curdled gasp he released was one of disbelief, not understanding that he had lost, indefinitely.

She couldn't feel her limbs as she ripped the sword from his chest and raised it above her head, but she heard her words clear as day.

"Anyone who wishes to challenge me for the Bolton line, step forward now!" She shouted, looking to each of the men that stood above her at the edge of the ring. Her husband took the opportunity to continue to physically lash out at each of the men, continuing to pull ferociously at each of his limbs at an attempt to break free. The audience of men was stunned, looking between each other with gaping mouths as they waited for someone to make the first move. It was one of the men trying to hold Cregan still that acted first, letting go of his Liege Lord and stepping back with his hands raised. The others followed suit, taking several steps away from the enraged man as they released their hold on him. Cregan let out a cry and began attacking anyone who was in reach. Landing multiple blows to the man's jaw and screaming obscenities as he did so.

She watched as her husband tore through two more Bolton men, the Wolf of the North making appearances through his blinding rampage. The sword felt heavy in her hands, and she could feel her legs begin to grow weak. The sword hit the ground before she did, exhaustion taking hold of her frame as she stared into the greying sky, rain drops began slowly falling and painting her blood-tainted skin with lines of pink and white as she let the darkness take her vision.

————————————————————————

The darkness of the night brought the greying memories hidden in the back of her mind that kept her recollection of that day, into full florescent light.

Cregan found himself waking at least once every night after that treacherous one, to the sound of her screams and pleas for mercy that weren’t warranted to anything outside of her own mind. It had become something of a routine they had subconsciously formed, a torturous nightly ritual that seemed never-ending. Cregan would wake with terror at the sound of a wail, instinctually he would turn in the direction of the sound and try to bring her into his arms as quickly as possible. Holding her tightly to his chest, brushing her sweat-matted hair from her forehead and placing soft kisses in the wake of his fingers.

“You are okay, my girl. You’re alright. We’re home in Winterfell, you’re with me, and you are safe,” he whispered into her hairline.

“You are safe,” he repeated the statement in reassurance as he began to rock her slowly. But a soft pang rang through his chest as she continued to tremble in his arms. He could hear her still weeping, burying her face in his broad shoulder and clutching him like he would disappear into thin air. He brought his hand to the back of her head and cradled her to him, continuing to mumble sweet nothings into her ear.

“I just want to stop seeing it, even in my sleep; seeing him lying there in front of me slowly approaching death from an injury I inflicted. It keeps happening over and over in my head, it’s torturing,” her voice shook as she explained the terrors that plagued her memory. All Cregan knew at this moment was pain, knowing he would not be the salve to heal this wound to her mind. But he would be here for her always, holding her as she fought a battle in her head that he couldn’t get to; it was torture for him too.

“I’m so sorry, my sunlight. Such a beautiful brain shouldn’t be polluted with this grotesque darkness. You did not deserve to have this happen to you and I am sorry I wasn’t able to protect you from it,” he said softly, emotion weighing his voice down as his sentence came to a close. He felt as she trembled in his arms, wanting nothing more than to bring her the comfort she so deserves. Yet, once again, he was left to fall on his metaphorical sword and watch as she suffered these horrors in her own mind; feeling forever helpless.

————————————————————————

The Lord of Winterfell had been summoned to a meeting in the council hall by his Bannerman of the North, regarding an urgent matter, or so it stated in the note he had received.

“Why have I been summoned here when it is I who should be summoning you?” Cregan snarled, his icy gaze spearing through all the men gathered before him as he stalked to the head of the long council table.

“Well… it is the business of your lady wife, my Lord… and the incident that has recently taken place,” Lord Cerwyn spoke timidly. Looking to the empty seat where Lord Bolton used to reside.

“What business? What opinion do you, of all people, have to offer?” Cregan snapped towards the lord.

“It is just that… we fear she is a risk to you, my Lord,” Lord Cerwyn continued to explain.

“Do you think she would harm me? Mine own lady wife? Do you truly believe she would attack me, or anyone else for that matter, unprovoked?” Cregan scoffed, taken aback by this ridiculous notion.

“It is a possibility, my Lord,” Lord Cerwyn muttered quietly in response.

“Do you know what it is like to feel helpless, Lord Cerwyn? How it feels to know you will never be able to give your wife what she needs. I have sworn to protect mine and even I could not do that. What if Lady Cerwyn had suffered the same situation as my lady wife? What would you do then? Lady Stark was assaulted, and if she hadn’t acted when she did, her and I would both be dead. You would do well to remember that,” Cregan growled at Lord Cerwyn.

“Apologies, my Lord. It is only that we worry for your safety, as I stated previously. As well as the safety of those on your court and in the public, my Lord. If the question of safety is at stake should we not consider other options?” The vassal Lord responded, surprised when the acceptance of his ideas came from the Warden of the North.

“And what would those be?” Cregan asked, his tone as sharp as the blade of his sword, poised to strike at any moment. He was completely opposed to any ideas this nuisance of a man gave him, however he would entertain any chance he could to defend his beloved. Wanting to eradicate any idea of doubt they had towards her and her sanity.

“Perhaps the Lady Stark may take some time away from Winterfell? Or rather… be solely kept within the walls of the castle? Just until she is well enough of course,” Lord Cerwyn suggested, hesitating with anxiety as he saw Cregan practically boil over in rage from across the table. The other lords grimaced, knowing the on-slot that was about to ensue.

“Are you out of your damn mind to even suggest such a thing? She is your Lady of Winterfell, and just because she has more courage than the whole lot of you, doesn’t mean she should be feared. She should be revered!” Cregan reviled the men before him as they all refused to look at their Liege Lord as he shouted about their lack of respect for his lady wife. Specifically looking at Lord Cerwyn while doing so.

“I am repulsed by you and the thought that you could ever come to me and suggest such a thing about my wife,” Cregan seethed, rounding the corner of the table to meet Lord Cerwyn at his seat. The vassal Lord stood up slowly as Cregan towered over him, staring daggers into the man’s soul.

“Get the fuck out of my castle,” Cregan sneered with venom laced into his words, looking to the rest of the men around the table.

“GET OUT! ALL OF YOU!” He roared, stepping away from the table and motioning for a guard to begin the escort of the Lord Bannerman from The Keep.

————————————————————————

When Cregan had gained his composure, he went around the Keep attending to his evening duties as he always did. As he made his way to his marital bedchamber he was struck with confusion at seeing his wife’s handmaiden standing outside the door.

“Ayla, what are you doing out here?” Cregan asked, concern painting his face, but nodding politely when she bowed slightly to him.

“I’m so sorry, m’lord. I have tried to get her to open the door, but she refuses. I did not know what to do with my Lady’s nightgown… so I’ve just been waitin’ for you to arrive, m’lord,” the young woman said as she kept her head down, taking a slight glance up at him but feeling intimidated she chose to look away once again.

“Thank you, Ayla. That was very kind of you to wait. But may I ask, how long have you been here exactly?” Cregan inquired, worried about the condition of his love and how long she’d been like this.

“I couldn’ say, m’lord. But if I had to venture a guess, possibly an hour, m’lord,” Ayla spoke again, still avoiding his now deeply concerned expression.

“I can take this on from here, Ayla. My thanks, again,” He spoke, trying to keep his tone more professional as he took the clothing from the handmaidens arms and watched as she walked out of sight before trying the door.

He called her name, announcing his presence, but heard nothing.

“My love, please come to the door, I do wish to sleep in our bed in the near future if you so permit it,” he said loudly, trying to keep a lighter tone and not give off the impression of any sort of anger. When met with silence again, Cregan feels a trickle of dread slip down his spine not knowing if she was okay or if something had happened. He began to rap on the door, his knock growing louder and more desperate, along with his pleas to her.

“My darling, I must see that you are alright, plea-,” Cregan begins to beg but is silenced by the sound of the lock coming undone from the other side of the large doors. Without hesitation he enters the room and looks around for a moment before his heart falls from his chest and onto the floor at the sight of his wife in such distress. She is already in a nightdress, but it is wrinkled and in disarray upon her frame. Clearly in a state of panic he could see she was covered in a thin veil of sweat that caused her hair to stick to her skin, as the rest stood at odd angles or was mussed in some way. When she looked up at him from her seat on the floor in front of their hearth, it was evident that fear had her in its midst and was racking through her mind, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her breath seemed to be lost on her. Cregan went to his wife in an instant and knelt on the furs next to her as he gathered her in his arms. Stroking her hair in comfort and placing soft kisses to her temple, Cregan tries to calm his wife, but in her anxiety-ridden state she was unable to resist the waves of terror washing over her. It was clear in the way she couldn’t catch her breath, and how her body would tense and relax repeatedly.

“Okay, okay. Shhh it’s okay - that’s it. Breathe, my darling, just breathe,” Cregan spoke softly into his beloveds hair, rocking her back and forth as she tried to gain control of her breathing once more.

“My darling girl, what has caused this pain?” Cregan questioned, his tone laden with concern. She had to take several more deep breaths before she was able to finally respond coherently.

“I am no longer worthy enough to uphold your family’s house values,” she whispered, not meeting his gaze as he had tried to get her to look at him.

“No, my girl. How did you ever reach that conclusion?” Cregan’s heart breaking at the thought that she believed herself not good enough for anything.

“The men on your court, they wish to see me kept away, I heard it with mine own ears. I have put a stain on your house with my actions. I hear what they whisper about in the corridors, and in your court, calling me the 'the Mad Lady Stark'. I am anything but honor or duty, I killed a man that was the lord of one of your vassal houses. I don't want to be feared, Cregan. I dislike it very much... I am starting to fear myself," she finally explained, “…they said I should be locked away,” she whispered again, her voice cracking and her chin trembling.

“They would have to slay me first before anyone else took you from me. Honor be damned if it means having you by my side, no matter what anyone may say,” Cregan responded, his palms cradling her jaw, softly pushing her head up so he could look her in the eye. The statement rolling off his tongue so easily he didn’t even realize what the implication of that sentence was; he would throw away honor and dignity for her every time.

“I seek no kind of absolution from anything other than that of what lies within your soul and the God who crafted it. In your absence, my life would be without purpose. Fore if I am not permitted to love you and keep you, my days would be spent living half a life,” he proclaimed, tears gathering on his lash line. She too was weeping, her eyes distant as if she were not seeing him in front of her.

“Do you hear me?” He asked, his gaze desperate as he searched her eyes for understanding.

“You are safe, no one will take you from me,” he concluded as she finally focused back onto him and slightly nodded her head.

“Okay,” she relented, not wanting to take his words for truth even though she knew they were, it was the distrust she had within herself that was stopping her from believing. It was hard to hold his gaze, knowing he could read the thoughts dancing through her eyes like seeing something through a clear window. She couldn’t hide from him if she tried.

He could feel the uneasiness still residing within her, so he brought her hands in his and pressed kisses to her knuckles. Slowly taking each fingertip to his soft lips and laying feather-light kisses along them as well, then moving to the inside of each of her palms to do the same. As he moved lower and pressed his lips tenderly to the inside of her wrists, he saw her resolve begin to dissipate. Her insecurity dissolving at the touch of his lips to her skin.

“These hands protect you, they know how to wield a sword better than most of my men. They comfort me when I am in need, they will hold and comfort our future children. I am so in love with these hands; do not fear what they can do, because if it wasn’t for you we would both be deep in the frozen ground by now,” Cregan explained in a soft but sincere tone, continuing to place soft kisses to her knuckles and wrists.

“Cregan…” she sniffled, a small smile coming to her lips as he continued to travel his lips further up her arm, and then slowly moving upwards he pulled her nightdress from her shoulder to reveal her collarbone. The three large scars that ran along the soft skin were close to being fully healed, as much as they could be. Cregan leaned down and placed the tenderest of kisses upon them. He cradled her waist as he pulled her into him, her thighs wrapped themselves around his middle as he stood slowly from the ground, bringing her with him. Moving to the bed, he set her down on the pelts gently, shifting her up the bed as he crawled over her, his eyes searching hers for something.

“It is never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable by my advances. But if you would permit me, may I show you how in love and committed to you I truly am?” Cregan asked in a whisper, still keeping himself propped up above her. A soft smile spread over her face, her cheeks heating up at the notion of such adoration.

“If you do not wish it then it shall not be done,” he reassured, his eyes still searching hers for any type of doubt or hesitation.

“Cregan… prove to me what I cannot prove to myself in this moment,” she responded softly. With the permission granted, he smiled as he laid a heavy kiss onto her lips. Then as he had done moments before, he pushed the sleeve of her nightdress down her shoulder to reveal her scars to him. He continued to kiss over the marred skin, trekking lightly up the slope of her neck until he reached just below the shell of her ear.

“These scars are proof of extraordinary resilience; proof of your undeniable courage, something I have always admired about your spirit,” Cregan spoke softly as he placed a kiss to her temple. “… and this… this stalwart, brilliant, stunningly cunning, and expertly charming brain of yours… you are a marvel to me… all of you,” Cregan continued to speak as he placed more kisses along her temple and under her jaw as she sighed and smiled. He began to move down further, kissing her unmarked collarbone and traveling south. However the hem of her neckline proved a worthy adversary to Cregan’s wishes to desire his wife. His hand travels from its place beside her body to slip under her nightdress and waltz up her thigh as the fabric went with it. He couldn’t help himself from running his fingers over the expanse of her thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake. The light caresses of her husband would always make her weak. She felt his hands grip her hips and carefully move her small clothes down her legs, a shaky breath escaping her as he does so.

“These hips… these hips will cradle your womb as you carry our child, they are strong and will birth the bravest of warriors,” Cregan spoke against her skin as he exposed it to himself. Having removed the dress fully from her body his lips began to paint tapestries across the skin of her lower stomach. His hands wandered, feeling every inch of skin he could reach, whispering his praises to every piece of her he touched. The noises that emitted from her were the sweetest melody Cregan had ever heard, the soft sighs and gasps of built up anticipation.

He loved it all.

Placing both of his hands at the back of her thighs he slowly coaxed them to rise as he shifted lower and placed his head upon her inner thigh, turning to meet his lips to the supple skin. He became drunk on the whimpers that fell so gracefully upon his ears as he teased the inner most part of her thighs with hot breaths and light caresses of his fingertips. Until finally he met his lips with what he considered the gates of the only heaven that truly mattered. In his hazed state he let his tongue wander through the petals of her cunt, like sifting through the petals of a freshly picked rose. He fell more intoxicated at her scent and taste as it poured over his senses, his grip on her thighs becoming stronger as his fingertips dug in. With a gentle force he moved her legs farther apart to be fully flat on his stomach, making the perfect angle for him to -

“OH CREGAN!” She gasped and cried out as she felt his tongue part her center and delve into her like a craved man. Her fingers carded through his locks and roughly tugged at the base of them, causing a moan to escape Cregan’s throat. As he continued unraveling her from the inside out, he loosened his grip on her thighs and began running his hands along the expanse of her skin. He got lost in the feeling of how soft and warm she felt against his fingers tips. He wondered how a human could possess such a physical sense of grace, as his skin had been marred by combat and in training, it was foreign to him to feel such a thing. As one of his hands began caressing her breast, running the rough pad of his thumb over her peaked nipple he enjoyed the sounds the small motion elicited from her. Beginning to get engulfed in desire, Cregan could not resist as his hips drove themselves against the mattress as he tried to get friction on his aching cock. The motion and resulting friction caused a small whimper to escape him, his cheeks burning at such a sound coming from him, but he couldn’t help it. It was all just too damn good. Retracting from her slightly he looked up to her, and was met with her gaze in return, their eyes communicating what their lips didn't have to.

They couldn't wait anymore.

His fingers never left her as he sat up and began undoing his trousers with his other hand, holding her soft gaze the entire time. She looked like an angel splayed before him, having fallen from the heavens and landed directly in their bedchambers. Throwing the garment to the side, he slid his fingers from her and brought them to his lips with a groan.

"You are the sweetest thing in all of the Seven Kingdoms my love," Cregan whispered to her as he climbed atop her. Feeling as her own hands roamed his broad shoulders and a moan escaped her as he tucked his head into her neck and began leaving soft trails of kisses down to her collar bones.

"Are you ready, my lady," Cregan asked softly, not wanting to move forward any further without her specific consent.

"Yes, my love," She whispered into his ear, a small smile gracing her beautiful lips. Taking hold of the back of her thighs, he hoists them around his waist and lines himself up with her entrance before slowly beginning to push in. The groans and gasps shared between them left them both feeling breathless. Positioning himself on his elbows to support himself, he cradled her head in one large palm as the other twisted itself into her hair. He began to move slowly, falling into the velvety bliss that was his wife. Moans and gasps danced from her parted lips as her husband gently led her down the road of pleasure, softly touching and kissing her. She adored the softness with which he caressed her, the way he held the back of her head like it was fragile. But she hadn't felt this intimacy with him in weeks, and she needed it a little harder and faster than what he was providing currently.

"My love," she gasped, her breathing staggered as he hit a spot within her that brought her the utmost pleasure, "my darling, fuck me," she demanded through gritted teeth, and he did not need to be told a second time. Bringing himself off of her, he balanced on his outstretched arms as he moved upwards, bringing her hips with him. This new angle provided her with the intensity she was looking for. Allowing him to meet his hips with her own in a powerful way, without crushing her with his enormous form.

One of his hands was softly caressing her face, cradling her jaw in his large palm. The action so opposing of the passionate and intense motion of his hips against hers, driving forward with a force as he got lost in her ether. The bed creaked and shook with the physicality of it all. The sound of skin meeting skin accompanied that of the complaints from the wooden frame of the bed and the sounds of pleasure ricocheted off the stone walls of their chamber; it was a sinful symphony. Feeling the burning knot of pleasure beginning to slip from his control, whimpers and grunts of desperation began to fall from his lips.

“My love - my light, I need you to look at me,” Cregan begged, his voice strained and thick with desire. Her eyes had been sown shut with the pleasure he brought her and her jaw had fallen slack, so lost in Cregan and the feeling of him that was surrounding her. It was an effort to look into his eyes as his thrusts became more erratic and she felt him hit that spot with a strength that took the breath from her lungs. It was impossible for him to come undone without looking into her eyes. She was the sun, blinding in her beauty to see with a naked eye yet captivating nonetheless, and he couldn’t look away.

He saw her struggling to focus and keep her eyes from fluttering shut as strangled moans came from deep within her. She was the most stunning vision to behold with her head thrown back and her hair splayed around her like a halo. The sweat-slick skin of her neck and chest as beautiful as fresh dew shining in the sunlight in the early hours of the morn. But he had to see her, look into her eyes as they took each other over the edge. He called her name gently, pleas quietly spilling from his mouth until moments later she was able to make eye contact with him.

The groan that came from him was desperate and loud as she finally answered his prayers.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Cregan grunted, all he heard in return was the rough panting and delicate groans of his wife as she felt nothing else but him. So consumed by him and his body she felt as if she might burst. Moving one of his hands down her torso as he ventured towards the space between them, wanting so badly to hear those gorgeous moans that fall from her mouth every time he touches her there. They both hung on a precipice, each thrust threatening to push them over the edge into oblivion. As he thrust several more times, the creaking of the bed was echoing off the stone walls of their chamber, the sound joining that of her whimpers and gasps of his name. Starting to thrust with a more erratic nature and needing more leverage, he pulled his hand away from the haven between her thighs and took ahold of hers, placing it atop the headboard to join the other, having took hold of it for balance.

In this position Cregan had never looked more strikingly handsome, his head hung between his outstretched arms above her, the dark locks of his hair falling around his face. He looked as if he was sculpted from marble, a statue of his grandeur created just for her. She heard quiet whimpers begin to fall from his mouth and she knew he was holding back with everything he had, but he didn’t need to.

“Come with me, my love,” she whispered to him between pants, their breaths mingling within one another, eyes never breaking each others gaze. The most divine groan fell from his plush lips, his face contorting in pleasure and then going slack as she felt his hips driving harder. As she felt the knot of pleasure begin to unravel in her lower stomach, she cried out his name in ecstasy and arched into him. The hand that was entangled in his gripped the headboard hard as she pulled herself up into him. Dropping his other arm to the mattress, he reached around her waist and anchored himself to her. With a final broken moan he felt himself cum as his hips met hers and he buried himself as deep as he could within her. They were still for a moment as they both began to come down, but suddenly Cregan began to move again. Dragging out his strokes and angling his hips so he could hit the one spot within her that he knew would result in another orgasm for her.

It was an intense and angelic experience for them both. As she felt him move slightly, squeezing her hip and holding her to him as he continued to rock into her. Cregan could feel the flutter of her walls as her peak never seemed to fade away, he was pulling the utmost pleasure from her and she never wanted it to stop. She clung to him with her available arm, running her hand through his hair and gripping the roots.

“Fuck, darling. You feel so divine.” Cregan spoke into her ear, his tone strewn with gravel as he too began to feel his ascension into the heavens once more. He ducked his head into the valley of her neck as he placed hot, needy kisses along the column of her throat. Her response was nothing more than mumbling and moaning, the love and lust clouding her mind to anything other than what he was giving her.

“I know baby, I know,” Cregan whispered and although he too was beginning to get lost in overstimulation, one of the only things he knew in that moment was he needed to feel her release one more time.

Cregan pulled back in that moment and released his hold on her waist as he then gently led her back onto the mattress. Having also released her hand that had been intertwined in his own on the headboard, he could feel both of them now moving over his skin and her nails slowly digging trails down his back.

He groaned at the sensation and as he went to shift his weight off the headboard, a sharp CRACK could be heard echoing off the walls, and suddenly Cregan’s weight dropped onto her. He caught himself, for the most part, but the sudden change had caused their lustful trance to be interrupted.

“My love, are you alright?” Cregan immediately turned his attention to his wife who was staring up at him in shock. With Cregan still sheathed inside her she was having a hard time comprehending what had just happened as she fought to focus herself.

“Yes, yes I’m okay,” she said to him as he brought a hand up to cradle her head, his thumb traces a dip from her cheek to her temple, a gesture of reassurance.

“Did we just break the headboard?” She inquired after a brief pause between them, an amused smile forming on her face and soon after an eruption of giggles poured out of her. Cregan looked surprised at the outburst at first but soon was chuckling at the circumstances right along side her. Slowly maneuvering off of her and to her side, they continue to share loving glances and can’t help the laughing that results.

“I think you know the answer to your question,” Cregan finally responded. Pulling her into his chest, their breathing slowing as they felt the exhaustion from the day wash over each of them.

“Do you know how in love with you I am? Do you understand now? Because I will spend every waking second I have left in this world trying to prove it to you,” Cregan whispered into her hair as he comforted her with soft touches and the warm embrace of his strong arms.

"I do know," she reassured him. She hummed in contentment as she felt his large palm move down to her lower stomach, encompassing the area above her womb.

"I do hope that took, I cannot wait any longer to see you round with my child," he says softly to her, adoration in his eyes as they looked down to where his hand is resting.

"Can you promise me something, Cregan?" she asked, looking to him intently but with a meaning behind her eyes.

"Anything, my sunlight," he responded.

"If we have a daughter, I want her to never feel as though she is not a son. She deserves to live in a world where she is not seen for her body but for her soul, and one where she isn't treated differently because of the gender she was born into. She should not have to feel like she needs to be anything other than herself, and we should provide that for her," she said, Cregan propped himself up on his arms and took his wife's face into his hands.

"We will provide that for her, I promise," he said, kissing her forehead and then gently placing a kiss to her lips.

"We will do better than our forefathers, and she shall know how special she is just for being who she wants to be," he reaffirmed, a smile gracing both of their lips as the promise of a better future was solidified between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @itsaslaminak @entitled-fangirl @ethereal-athalia @vastseamind @r-3dlips @hotdhoe @kaidaophelia @lv7867 @oni-jiri @mysticalhills @makaria-burton @ivorains @cregnstark @eldrith @bucksplum @swordgrace @earth4angels @princessvelaryon @dr3amfyr-e @username679273 @targtowerxstark @cregansdingdong @creganstarkswife @dipperscavern @xxselenite @v3lary0ns

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Harry Dresden by Mika Blackfield

[suiana]

hi sui,,,is it too much to maybe request a birthday drabble of some characters..

ᵖᵘˢʰᵉˢ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ⁱⁿᵈᵉˣ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵒⁿᵗᵒ ᵉᵃᶜʰᵒᵗʰᵉʳ, ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢʰʸˡʸ

idk of this is meant for my yanderes or pre-existing characters from games but I'll assume it's for my yans

yanderes who spoil you rotten and are just so happy for this day: yan! ex, yan! playboy, yan! celebrity, yan! seller, yan! gym rat, yan! prison warden, yan! golden retriever, yan! stalker

"happy birthday! i got you a cake, gifts, surprises- oh! we're also going on a trip to hawaii! don't pack your things, we can just buy more there later and-"

"dude i just woke up..."

you stare at the male, blinking slowly before you groan and push him away from your face. jesus, you knew he was overly excited for this day, but you didn't expect him to be this excited.

"just... shoo. let me sleep a bit longer..."

"but but..."

you shoot him a stern glare, warning him not to push his limits before you go back to hiding underneath your covers again. you'll deal with his temper tantrum later. right now you just want to get some more sleep.

"and don't wake me up again. got it?"

"okay..."

yanderes who also spoil you rotten but are calmer(also secretly very excited): yan! student council president, yan! dilf, yan! emperor, yan! ghost husband, yan! criminal, yan! malewife, yan! foreign exchange student

"oh, you're awake my love. happy birthday."

your husband kisses you on the cheek, greeting you as you come out of the bedroom. you smile at him, hugging him loosely as your eyes scan your usually empty living room. you expected maybe a gift or two, not an array of gifts and a full course breakfast meal on the dining table.

"take your time. there's no rush for you to get to all of these gifts."

you stare at your lover, an awkward smile on your face as you release your hold from him. ah, he's always like this. so sweet. always so willing to spoil you.

"okay okay. um, thank you, really. i just-"

"oh honey, no need to thank me. I'm your husband after all. i should be spoiling you, especially on such a special day."

he chuckled, his hand caressing the back of your head before he looks down at you with an eerie smile that always manages to send chills down your spine.

"after all, i love you. and you love me too, don't you?"

yeah... yeah of course you love him. there's no other option anyway.

yanderes who act like they don't care (secretly very excited): yan! sleepy bf, yan! academic rival, yan! mean boy, yan! tsundere

"it's my birthday today you know."

"mhm."

"my birthday."

"i know, i heard you the first time."

your boyfriend mumbles softly, looking at his phone before glancing at you. you could only mutter curses under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest before you shift your position on the couch to face away from him.

you weren't expecting much. you always knew him to be a bit... distant? mean? you never really minded, you found it cute. but it's your damn birthday! at least give a gift or take you out on a date! you'd do that for him!

"ugh, at this point maybe we should just break up-"

"no."

your boyfriend interjects, suddenly facing you as he places a small gift box in your palm and frowns.

"i know i act like this but i actually planned for a date night later tonight. and i said happy birthday just now didn't i?"

he mutters, his arms tightening around your waist before he presses a kiss to your cheek. you let out a small shiver, involuntarily leaning into his touch as you continue to frown.

damn him, now you look ungrateful! ugh, you knew you should've just-

"... it's my fault though, should've told you beforehand. sorry baby."

your boyfriend hums, pressing another kiss to your cheek before getting off the couch and leaning his head against your thighs. you stare at him, eyes widening as you feel blood rise to your cheeks.

"how about i make it up to you?"

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 2

[Link to Part 1]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this.

Character Creation

It is the best CC BioWare has ever made in a game [source]

The faction we choose will determine who we as protagonist Rook were before they were recruited to put a stop to Solas [source]

Certain conversation options are only available to Rooks of certain factions. For example, Grey Wardens get conversation options that are focused on the Blight, as they know more about it from other people. It also impacts how people talk to Rook (reactivity from characters and then faction reactivity from plots relating to that faction) [source]

Faction choice affects a lot of things [source]

There aren't unique missions (I think this means like the playable Origins in DA:O), but faction choice does set the course for Rook for the rest of the game [source]

"body customization and morphing. From more muscular characters, to curvier builds, and just about any shape you want to give your character, there are all sorts of toggles to adjust so you can give them any figure you want". "There's even features that let you choose proportions, so you can alter their height, give them wider shoulders, and much more" [source]

There are makeup options [source]

There are tattoo options [source]

The hair uses a "Strand system" to "make them behave and move in a believable way for the different races" [source]. (Fel note/speculation: I think "race" here refers to irl, as opposed to like human vs qunari or something, as the language they are using for human/elf/dwarf/qunari is "Lineage")

There are 4 voices to choose from for Rook: two feminine and tow masculine (one American, one British for each) [source]

In CC, 'Lineage' is the game's parlance for race i.e. human, elf, dwarf, qunari [source]

We can pick Rook's name, but the dialogue calls them 'Rook' [source]

In CC we can "make a few key decisions that will impact how The Veilguard begins" [source]

"I really do think its our most feature-ful character creator ever." [source]

Story and lore

In the opening segment of the game (see more on the story's opening moments here), we're too late and Solas' ritual worsens, so Rook and the companions go to stop him. When travelling to the next location (Arlathan Forest) in the chase after Solas, the characters travel through an eluvian [source]. The Forest is where his ritual is taking place. Varric then asks the player if he should confront Solas, and players then work to take down the surrounding statues in order to stop the ritual. "I won’t spoil what happens next, but I’ll just say the player and Veilguard have a tall task ahead of them if they want to save Thedas." [source]

Four of the 6 faction options for Rook (Mourn Watch, Lords of Fortune, Veil Jumpers, Shadow Dragons) are "rooted in northern Thedas" [source]

Certain conversation options are only available to Rooks of certain factions. For example, Grey Wardens get conversation options that are focused on the Blight, as they know more about it from other people. It also impacts how people talk to Rook (reactivity from characters and then faction reactivity from plots relating to that faction) [source]

There aren't unique missions (I think this means like the playable Origins in DA:O), but faction choice does set the course for Rook for the rest of the game [source]

A line of dialogue Dorian had at the Winter Palace in DA:I about what Tevinter is like informed the devs' approach to bringing to life the setting of Tevinter: ""There's a line in Dragon Age Inquisition that we always like to call back to," Epler says. "Dorian goes to the Winter Palace, which, up to that point, is probably the most impressive thing you've seen [as the Inquisitor], and [he] says something like, 'Oh, this is cute.' And we had to ask, what does it look like? What is Tevinter if Dorian sees that [the Winter Palace] and thinks that?"" [source]

The fact that Minrathous used to be the land of the elves was factored into the location's design. John Epler: "You can see the architecture has changed. It's become a lot more elven focused. And something that we've kind of hinted at, but we've never really shown explicitly, is the idea that Tevinter is built on the bones of the ancient elven empire. Tevinter itself, Minrathous itself, all the magic you see, that's just a pale imitation of what the elves are capable of. So you'll start to see as you get deeper into the game, the elves, for example, worked Lyrium into their building materials. Tevinter can't quite figure out how to do that. So instead, you'll see more gold and gems, kind of imitating it, but not ever quite approaching what the elves are able to do, and really creating that continuity of the space. Obviously, Solas isn't too thrilled that this world is the way it is, because he lived in a time of miracles and magic, and even the most magical place in Thedas isn't magic like the elven people used to be able to do" [source]

At the end of the opening portion of the game there is a "jaw-dropping title card cliffhanger" [source]

On the opening sequence: ""One of the things we wanted to do with this game is make the prolog feel like the final mission of a different game," John Epler says. "We really needed to get the stakes, the spectacle, right off the bat. Obviously, players who had been waiting to confront Solas have been waiting for just this moment."" [source]

Each companion has their own storyline that runs parallel to the main story [source]

You cannot succeed without the companions. Each of them has a reason why they need to be part of your party, why they need to help you stop the end of the world [source]

All 7 companions are recruited in the game's first act [source]

The firey demon looking guys shown near the start of the Gameplay Reveal are Rage Demons. Demons in general got a revamp in this game "to more closely align their look", this can be seen with the shades and the Pride demons as well. "they’re creatures of emotion so they have a spectral nervous system look" [source]

The Pride demon the group fight at the Solas face-off in the Gameplay Reveal video "was more a direct tie to Solas than anything else, but it didn't escape us how much it echoed the beginning of DA:I". they wanted to show the stakes and the scale of Solas' power [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Harding was one of the earliest characters that the devs wanted to bring into DA4, because she was such a fan favorite. She is this game's 'traditional returning' character [source]

Each character's romance flavor or style is different. They don't want every character for the romance to feel the same. They want everyone to have their own flavor that's appropriate to them as a character [source] [two]

"We found as we were building a story, more than ever before, it's a story about the people around you; a story about building this team, and working with them." [source]

Each companion has their own storyline that runs parallel to the main story [source]

You cannot succeed without the companions. Each of them has a reason why they need to be part of your party, why they need to help you stop the end of the world [source]

All companions are pansexual (specifically pansexual, not playersexual) [source]

Their pansexuality may come through in what we learn about their backstories [source]

No companion romance is race-locked [source]

Companions reference their past experiences or partners, and they reference who they'll become romantic with. [source]

If you don't romance a character, they may find a different partner for themselves. This could be within the companion roster itself or outside of it in the broader world. [source] For example, if the player does not romance Harding, she may get together with Taash [source]

The game is rated M [source]

The game contains nudity [source]

We can start flirting with the companions pretty early [source]

All 7 companions are recruited in the game's first act [source]

It is not until later parts of the game that you really commit to romance and things get pretty spicy [source]

The nudity, spicy things etc is more towards the end of the game [source]

The devs want the companions to be relatable and fully realized. So things get spicy, but in a more relatable way for people than e.g. some of the more shocking and comical scenes of this nature in Baldur's Gate 3 [source]

How sexually explicit the scenes are varies between characters. Some are more spicy than others. They have diverse personalities like in real life. "Some of them are more physical, more aggressive, and some of them are more... we have a gentleman necromancer [Emmrich], for instance, that is more intimate and sensual." [source] "some characters may be a little more steamy while some characters maybe a little bit more innocent" [source]

The romance and relationship system is more fleshed out than in previous BioWare games. A character's romance will be better woven into their personal story arc and into their involvement in the core questline of the game [source]

"BioWare has also worked to ensure that getting to know your characters as friends feels just as satisfying - and that just because you're not banging your buddy, their (platonic) relationship with you will still continue." ""One of the things we tried to do with The Veilguard is it's not just romantic relationship building," Epler continued. "You need to get to know a person before you can really build that kind of relationship with them, and if you choose not to build a [romantic] relationship, we never want to feel like you're being cut off. There's no 'okay, well, their arc isn't progressing, I'm done'." We want to make sure the non-romantic relationships are deep as well, with friendships not just for companions and yourself, but also between companions across the party."" [source]

GDL reprises his role as Solas [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

The game has a photo mode [source]

Combat is fast-paced [source]

If you pause the game using the ability wheel you can scan enemies to learn more information about them [source]

Each of the 3 main classes is distinguished by how it generates and spends energy for abilities [source]

Each of the 3 subclasses for each 3 main class promise to offer some meaningful distinctions from each other [source]

for this, rogues have momentum. You build momentum by attacking, by dodging, by parrying, and you lose it by being hit, so there's really a focus with rogues on avoiding damage, avoiding attacks. They build momentum quickly, but they lose it quickly. Warriors have rage, which they build a little bit more slowly, but they don't lose [source]

Attacks can be cancelled [source]

Regarding enemy weaknesses, some of these are elemental. In other cases their defenses are more vulnerable to specific types of abilities [source]

Combat seems to be a matter of managing our abilities as best we can to whittle down enemy defenses and take advantage of their weaknesses [source]

Over the course of the game we get access to three abilities per companion as well as an additional two abilities we can slot, and an additional ability that coms off of items that the devs will not talk about for now [source]

Fully offline single player, no EA account linking, no micro-transactions [source]

The game uses advanced rendering tech in Frostbite, nice subsurface scattering, high quality meshes, while having a striking pseudo-painterly look [source]

There are blood spatters in the game [source]

Production values on the game have gone through the roof. It looks like a big improvement on what came before [source]

On the music: "lots of foreboding tunes mixed with epic flair" [source]

Good voice acting, great facial animations, good hair tech, busy-looking environments and worlds [source]

It's not open world. "There are open areas you can explore around in, but it's mostly structured/mission based, sort of like Mass Effect." [source]

There are difficulty options [source]

They will talk about PC spec stuff at a later time [source]

There is probably an option to see damage numbers [source]

There are many reasons why the game is M-rated [source]

There are lots of abilities, with 3 swapped in on the wheel at any one time [source]

There are a bunch of accessibility options and they will talk about these soon [source]

The ability wheel gives you flexibility to enhance your playstyle. If you don't want to use it at all, you don't have to and that's no issue as shortcuts are available [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[darkficlord69]

Fire & Ice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon

Warning: tastefully depicted smut (18+)

Word Count: 2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End.

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