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bittersweetarts · 1 year

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Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 11)

Aemond Targaryen x You – Chapter 1

Word count: 5202 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Sexual content, misogyny, dub-con (kind of)

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Chapter 11: Cherry Wine

You knew that your public outburst with Lord Cregan Stark would be gossiped about throughout the Keep, but you did not expect the one-eyed Prince to hear about it mere hours after it had happened, before the sun even set, given that he was out hawking with some noblemen for the afternoon. Yet he had, and had stalked about the Keep in search of you, furious at what he had heard happened.

After the disaster with the Northman, you had desperately wanted to cry and hide face, embarrassment overpowering any other emotion you might have felt otherwise. You could not understand why you had let your temper get the better of you, and why you had reacted so poorly in front of so many others. You were normally a level-headed woman, and Lord Cregan had not said anything outrageous or belligerent. In fact, he had empathised with you, and had gone out of his way to offer help. So why did you react so emotionally? Not to mention that you had abandoned your duties, which was inexcusable. You hoped that the servants or someone else would take over, but there was no assurance that they would, so there is the possibility that some sort of disaster has occurred as well.

At this very moment, you could not help but completely loathe yourself and your lack of sense.

In shameful punishment, you had sequestered yourself in one of the small study chambers in the Keep’s Library, with your Ser Landor stood outside, probably judging you as harshly as you did yourself. Though the Library was not nearly as grand of a repository of knowledge as others in the Kingdom, such as the Citadel, it was still large enough for you to find a quiet corner to mull over your feelings. It was fairly empty, as most opted to enjoy the pleasant weather and festivities, with only a couple of maesters present indoors. You knew that your chambers were not an option for refuge, for if someone tried to find you, that would be the first place they would look.

You were sat by one of the dark wood tables near the locked books, blankly staring at some large volume you had grabbed. It was silly, your reaction now even, but you felt at a loss.

Perhaps you were blowing matters out of proportion, but your confrontation with the Lord of Winterfell had made you feel disorientated, because it had made you realise that you no longer had any wish to leave King’s Landing. You have grown to care for Prince Aemond and his family, and in a way, you found a home with them. Never good with people, you had managed to find a friend in Helaena, and you cared for her children as if they were your own. Prince Daeron never failed to cheer your spirits, meanwhile Queen Alicent always tried to make you feel at home. Yes, you had grown to care for the Targaryens, and the one-eyed Prince was rather fond of you. Even if House Stark managed to help you leave, how could anything else be better? What more could you ask for?

With your hands on your head and your elbows against the table, you were staring at the book before you, lost in your thoughts. It took a loud, harsh voice to ground you back.

“Leave us. Now!”

The one-eyed Prince’s demanding voice ricocheted throughout the room. You hear some shuffling and the shutting of the entrance door, and this startles you as well. Looking up, you realise that the Prince was stood directly before you, his anger practically fuming out of him. Exhaling, you tilt your head up and cross your arms, maintaining face. You are not taken aback by his wrath, having expected it. Watching him, you see that his breathing is heavy, and he glares at you accusingly, as though you had committed a grevious crime. You quickly realise that he is purposefully silent, waiting for you to speak.

“How was hawking?” You say dully.

You did not really care about how hawking with a bunch of drunk lords went, nor did you care about Aemond’s rage. Your attitude only served to further anger the Prince, who loudly set his hands on the table, leaning over you.

“‘How was hawking?’” He repeated after you, angrily astounded.

“Hawking was just fine, and I was in a fine mood, until I hear upon my return that my Lady decided to parade herself at court, with a fucking Stark out of all people.” Aemond seethed, the words spitting out of his mouth. You found his overreaction to be irritating, especially as the issue was not that you were with Lord Cregan, but rather your outburst. When you roll your eyes, you feel a hand harshly grasp your jaw, forcing you to stand. As you do, you find yourself face-to-face with the Prince.

You should have just explained to him what had happened, been honest with him. Really, it is this exact issue that has had plagued your mind for the past few hours. You could tell him exactly what happened. You could tell him that Lord Cregan Stark had only spoken to you out of concern for your safety, at the behest of your beloved sister, and that you had declined it. Or at least you wish you could tell him, but you knew you could not. Because by being honest, you would not only put your sister at peril, but at the mercy of the possessive Prince, a man known to behave brutally when at the whim of his emotions. You felt sure that he would not respond well to a plot that would take you away from him, and that the perpetrators would not be safe. So instead, you opt to evade the truth, and to distract the Prince. Raising your brows, you cockily answer back.

“Actually, it was not just any Stark, but the Lord of Winterfell.” As you spoke, you could feel the hand on your jaw tighten.

“… and if I knew that it would attract your attention, I would have sought him out a lot sooner.” The fury in the Prince’s eye was unlike you had ever seen before, and you tried to pull back, but failed.

“My attention?” The Prince’s brows furrowed as he leaned more forward, manically whispering now. “You really believe me to be so daft, that I would not grasp that the cunt only spoke to you because of your sister.”

You flinch as he insulted the Northman and fear begins to sink in. Of course, he would know. Your sister is married to Lord Cregan’s cousin, and after your dramatic parting from her only weeks ago, how could he not grasp the connection. Feeling foolish, you drop gaze, which only makes the Prince hum in disapproval.

“This is the last time that I shall ask. What did Lauryn say to you?” As he asks, he tilts your chin up, but you still refuse to look him in the eye. You try to shake your head, but his holds on you is fixed, preventing you from doing so.

“Does it matter?” You respond in a quiet voice. You then feel lips press near your ear, and teeth sharply graze the sensitive skin there. You leap at the contact, and the Prince insincerely grins at you, delighted by your reaction. He keeps you in place though, not allowing you to pull away, steadfastly holding you by your waist. It is deathly silent, as the one-eyed Prince says nothing, and his stupid expression only serves to irritate you. Exhaling, you decide to provoke him instead. Maybe if his anger becomes directed towards you, he will forget about your sister and the Starks.

“Tell me, your Grace, do you like me like this? Do you like to see me upset? Afraid? With your hands on me so tightly that bruises form? Punishing me for things I have yet to do.”

You look him straight at him, pull your face back defiance, his nails scratching your neck and fingers bruising your arms. As you slightly pull away, you see his eye darken, and before you even comprehend, you feel his lips harshly collide against yours.

Suddenly, you are effortlessly lifted by your waist onto the table. When your back meets the wooden table, you arch your back in slight discomfort. As you do, the Prince only pushes himself more against you, deepening the kiss. You feel his teeth insistently bite against your lower lip, but you stubbornly do not open your mouth, enjoying the sensation and his frustration. Though you are in some pain, you cannot bring yourself to stop the Prince, as you shamefully realise that you may actually enjoy the rough treatment. Your refusal only changes the Aemond’s course, and his mouth trails to your neck, now sinking his teeth against the skin there instead, causing you to gasp, and you feel the hands around your waist leave, traveling lower.

“You are infuriating.” Aemond groans, pressing his nose hardly against your neck. When he deeply breathes, you feel your sensitive skin pucker into him, causing you to gasp. Out of breath, you gently grasp his face with a hand, so that he faces you, pressing your lips against his before softly responding.

“Perhaps, but you are not any less so.”

As you answer, your hand moves to his eye mask, pulling it aside without asking. As you do, his expression softens and he kisses you again, this time more gently. You think for a moment that he becomes more tender when his mask is off, but you quickly realise that your assumption is wrong. Swiftly, his hands lift the skirting of your gown to your waist, and you only realise this after the fact.

“Someone will see.” You mumble against his lips, but the Prince roughly dismisses you.

“Let them.”

Aemond pulls back, his eye straying downward, meanwhile your focus is on his face. You see the brilliant glisten of his left ‘eye’ (which you have learned now is a sapphire) and you never seize to be in awe of the gemstone, and how well he wears it. With it, his countenance is haunting, in the most beautiful manner. As you observe him adoringly, the Prince positions himself between you on the wooden table, knees against the ground, pushing aside the heavy book that you failed to read. As it fell, a loud sound echoed through the otherwise silent room. When the Prince separates your legs, your eyes widen with shock, but the Prince ignores this, staring ahead at a new sight.

“Let them see. Perhaps then every fucking lord here will understand who you belong to. Obviously, I have not been clear enough.”

Though his words are harsh and demeaning, you do not find yourself upset, distracted by a sensation you have scarcely ever felt before. As he spoke, the Prince’s fingers moved to your exposed inner thighs, kneading against them. As his hand neared your core, you felt your eyes shut themselves. You try to squeeze your legs together, but the blonde holds them apart, humming in disapproval.

“Aemond.” You say warningly, your hands now against the table, giving you support. You knew where this was going, and though you were not opposed to it, you were worried that someone would walk in on the two of you.

“Louder.”

As the blonde spoke, you realised that his face was now near you, with your legs over his broad shoulders. His words vibrated against the sensitive part of your thighs, forcing you to choke on your breath. As you feel hands skim your underclothing, your hands move to the Prince’s hair, gripping it softly. You find your gaze straying to the door, watching it warily, but the sensation of Aemond’s kisses and bites against your thighs distract your focus. Again, you repeat his name, this time more nervously.

“Aemond. Someone will see or hear.”

At this, you feel your undergarment slipped completely, and simultaneously, warm lips press somewhere that has never been touched before, forcing a cry from you. Your grip against the Prince’s hair also tightens, your nails scraping against his scalp, and this only serves this to bolden his movements. As you pull on his hair, you feel a sleekness press against your center, and your hips begin to move upon their own accord, pressing further into him, and you wonder how Aemond is managing to breathe, when his nose is so firmly pressed against you.

You know that you should be ashamed for your indecency, for letting something like this happen. You were a follower of the faith, and surely this is unacceptable before marriage. But what you felt was akin to nothing you have ever before, so rather than stopping the one-eyed Prince, you found yourself pushing him further into you.

And as his tongue moves across your core, you harshly bite on your lip to suppress a moan, but fail to do so, as a throttled sound escapes. As it does, the hands on your thighs sink deeper, leaving prominent marks, you had no doubt. Suddenly you jump as a cool breeze blows over your folds, and you restrain another cry, that is, until you feel a pinch there. Fingers replaced the work his mouth had previously done, and when you look down, at the Prince with wide eyes, you see him leering at you, pleased.

“Did I not say louder?”

By the time the Prince was finished with you, you were a sobbing mess, sweaty and flushed, collapsed on the table, eye lids heavy. As you laid there, the Prince sat beside you on the chair, playing with your long locks, relishing in your depleted state.

Aemond Targaryen found immense satisfaction in making you come undone, from hearing you say words he had never heard out of your pretty little mouth before. The look of complete devotion, your begging, the way you fell apart after you reached your peak. And by the Seven, your sweet, honied taste. He could not get enough. It was more perfect than he could have ever imagined.

He had intended to be patient with you, only waiting for a few more weeks until the two of you would be wed, when he could do with you as he pleased and fantasised about. He did not care about fucking you before the two of you were man and wife, but he believed that you did, so he was willing to be patient.

But after hearing about Lord Cregan Stark, a man that many noblewomen have pined after for years, and that you were alone with him at the Garden, when he had managed to vex you into throwing a fit – it all became too much. Upon being told this by some insipid Lady vying for his attention at the courtyard, the Prince felt himself become possessed, like a puppet to his impulses, envy clouding his vision. Though angry, he still did not intend on doing anything when confronting you.

But now, he truly does not know how he will manage to restrain himself for days, let alone weeks before your union.

As he observed you in reverence, the one-eyed Prince was pleased beyond belief. As he traced his fingers over the maroon marks he has left on your exposed décolleté, he could not help but wish to add more, as though he was a painter, and you were his canvas.

Slowly, his fingers move to your face, and you turned to face him in response. As you do, his fingers begin feathering over your lips, which were bruised and swollen. As you watched him, you realised that the sun was setting now, a deep red hue seeping into the room, glowing against Aemond. Now, his sapphire eye matched his natural one in colour, and you realised that this now your favourite. The two of you stare at each other in affection for some time, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, until Aemond speaks.

“What is on your mind.”

You lift yourself off the table, planting your feet onto the ground. When you do, the Prince grins at you, pulling you in by the waist, so that you straddle him as he sat on the chair. You have passed many bounds with regards to impropriety now, and this is one of the least shameful things you have done, so you could not even get yourself to feel any shame. Smiling you, your hands softly sink into his long blonde hair, carefully combing through its strands. Aemond, on the other hand, begins to press his lips against the many marks he has left along your neck and open chest. Though it takes a few moments, you do answer him.

“You.”

Leaning your face down, you capture his lips, and begin nipping against them roughly. As you do you feel something beneath you swell, which makes you move in a motion against him, eliciting groans that make you ache in yearning. Before you could go any further though, the one-eyed Prince grips your throat, holding it as he pulled away.

“Ser Landor will escort you to your chambers. You should get ready for tonight’s feast.”

Tonight’s feast. You had completely forgotten that tonight’s affair would be elaborately bountiful, at the Great Hall as it was the night before Jaehaerys’s oath ceremony. So, in the span of a some odd hours before the second most important celebration, you had managed to insult an important Lord, cause scandal, and get seduced by a Targaryen Prince, with marks on your prominent place evidencing this.

You felt ill.

Pulling away from Aemond entirely, you stand up and begin pacing on the spot, one hand on your waist and the other on your throat. Your breathing was heavy, and this worried the one-eyed Prince who, after adjusting himself, stood up, placing his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. After your breath evened, the blonde hunched to you, so that your gazes levelled.

“… Do you regret it, what I have done to you?”

His voice was so unlike it normally is, so full of vulnerability, and this snapped something in you. Perhaps it is because you are so used to looking after others, but you quickly composed yourself and met his eye.

“Of course not.”

You still see doubt in his stare, and the frown on his face remained. Sighing, your hands moved to his face, grasping him before pulling him down to your chest, in order to cradle him, as though you were a swan cradling babes within her wings. As you hold, you press your lips against his hair, and feel his body relax, and his arms wrap around your waist. Your mind is blank as you hold him, and you focus on his breathing, which is deep and slow.

You do not know for how long you held him there, but when he finally pulled away, the room had gotten dark, and you could barely see him, but merely his silhouette and his shining jewel. Holding your arm, the Prince spoke quietly.

“Come. We cannot stay like this forever.”

Preparing yourself was an absolute nightmare, and for all of your efforts, you still did not look your best.

You were escorted to your chambers by Ser Landor, who you understood had stood guarding the door of the small library chamber, and must have heard you with Prince Aemond, leaving you absolutely mortified and unable to even look at the stoic knight. Upon your arrival, you were told that you had little time before the feast, but thankfully, you had nothing to do with its preparation, so your only task was to get ready and be present at the Great Hall before the guests arrive.

Unfortunately for you, you could not wear the dress you had intended to, as the dress revealed your arms and chest area. As you observed yourself in the mirror, you understood that the Prince’s earlier promise at Shipbreaker Bay was not empty; you really did look like you had been attacked by a beast.

Against your reflection, you could see crimson and purple teeth-shaped marks trail along your chest and neck, up to your ear. Your bare arms were in a better state, though pink scratches still ran across them, so they would have to be covered as well. The lower half of your body, ou were mentally unprepared to even glance at. Though your body ached and your skin was tender to the touch, you were not really in any pain. When you pressed against a bruise on your neck, the discomfort that flamed only brought back memories from earlier, making you flush, and feel shame for enjoying it.

Sighing in exasperation, you scavenge through your wardrobe, in search of your only option for the evening: a light pink fitted long-sleeve gown, which had an obnoxiously high neckline. It was one your least favoured dresses, and not suitable for King Landing’s warmer climate, but you had no other option. You also opted to keep your curls down, braiding a few loose strands, in hopes that it concealed the faint markings on your face as well, though your lips needed a darker lip paint to conceal the swelling.

The Feast was even more elaborate than those of the Summer Solstice Festival, with ever flowing cherry wine, an elaborate spread across all tables, and lots of lively chatter and music. Perhaps it was because you were a little intoxicated from drinking a little more than you should, but the room glowed in a warm hue, and it felt almost magical.

At a distance, in front of the Iron Throne, was a long table, where the Targaryen Family was sat, eating and drinking, as everyone else was currently. You avoided the eye of your Aemond, knowing that you would die on the spot out of shame. So instead, you let your gaze stray to others currently sat at the front. You occasionally met the eye of Prince Daeron and Queen Helaena, but they both seemed distracted by other matters. The children were happily talking with each other, with the exception of Prince Maelor, who sat sulkily, nagging for the attention of his mother, who sat beside him. Next to the Prince heir sat at the center, was King Aegon, who you uncomfortably shared eye contact with a few too many times. However, it was not as uncomfortable as being sat with Lord Larys Strong.

For the Feast, Queen Alicent thought it was best for you to be sat with Lord Strong and the members of his House who were visiting the capitol, seeing as your own family was not an option. As far as you knew, your Lord Father and eldest brother, Tommen, would be at the oath ceremony tomorrow, pledging fealty to Aegon’s heir. Otherwise, they were not present for any of the festivities, and it did not take wit to comprehend why.

While you were not eager on seeing Tommen in particular, you also were not excited to spend the evening sat next to Lord Strong and his House. His two sisters were also sat near you, but they were practically mute, their husbands conversing between themselves instead. You tried to speak with the younger of the two, Lyra, as she sat closest to you, but the strawberry blonde only mumbled half-responses, evidently not eager to interact with you.

So here you were, drinking a copious amount of cherry wine to cope with the uncomfortable conversations that Lord Larys attempted to have with you. It did not help your patience that you also were practically boiling in the room, which felt as though it were a furnace.

“It is a shame that you did not join us for hawking, my Lady, as some other wives did. I am sure you would have made a splendid huntress. Jerkin and trousers would suit you well.”

Pursing your lips, you try to come up with a response. This was question was not as intrusive as some of his earlier ones, regarding her family back home (the worst being about the marriage eligibility of your youngest sisters, who are still children). Forcing a smile, you answer before sipping on your goblet.

“Another time, my Lord.”

“Your current dress suits you well as well. It is very unlike what you normally wear, but lovely nonetheless.”

There was an inquisitive look in Ser Larys’s eyes, and it took all your might to maintain your forced smile and thank him. You were sure that he suspected something, for he was the Master of Whisperers after all. Thankfully, before the small council member could say another word, a deep voice called upon your name. Turning around, you see the tall Lord of Winterfell, stood before you dressed heavy in black.

“Lord Strong,” the Northman spoke loudly, in order to be heard in the loud hall. “May I borrow the Lady for a moment?” You see the Master of Whispers hesitate for a moment, as though piqued by the intrusion, prior to rigidly nodding. As you turn to face the Lord Stark, you see his hand before you.

“Can I ask you for a dance?”

Though you were not keen to dance with a man you had embarrassed yourself in front of, you were desperate to separate yourself from the Lord sat next to you, so you enthusiastically agree.

As you take his hand, he escorts you to the center of the room, with a hand on your waist, where many others danced in pairs, and you relished in the breeze you felt as the two of you walked briskly.

Though you felt many eyes burn on you, you do not feel intimidated because, despite the Northman’s daunting stature presence, his kind eyes bring you comfort. Or perhaps it is the liquid courage in your bloodstream. As you take his other hand and slowly begin dancing, you speak in earnest, to diffuse the little tension between the two of you.

“Forgive me for my outburst earlier today, my Lord. It was unbecoming and disgraceful, especially given the kindness you have shown my family and I.” Lord Cregan spins you and pulls you in, before responding.

“There is nothing to forgive, my Lady.”

His breath smells of ale, and as you look at him, you realise that he is smiling, the first you have seen since you met him. It suits him well, and you feel yourself returning the expression. You now wonder whether you should have drunk so much, because you feel yourself speaking without enough thought.

“You should smile more; it befits you better than your frown.”

He lets out a hearty laugh, and it is as welcoming as his eyes. The Northman is not used to women speaking to him as you do, as most are too afraid to even speak to him, let alone with the honesty and cheek that you do.

Before he responds though, the Northman lifts you, moving you away, and you realise as your shoulders softly collide with that hard back of a large man, it was so that you would not be pushed to the ground. The floor has become crowded now, with many drunk Lords and Ladies dancing with each other, and you are beginning to understand that you perhaps may have become one of them. And that you are rather enjoying it, the feeling of being not sober, and in a way, you have missed it.

Or at least you did, until your glance at the front on the room, and your eyes meet that of the Prince Aemond, who is sharply staring at you, with his jaw tightly clenched.

The table where the Targaryens sat was mostly empty now, as Queen Helaena had joined the dance with her brother-husband, and the children were playing by the table with their grandmother. It was only his grandsire who sat near the one-eyed Prince, talking of politics, but the Prince paid little attention to the conversation, instead obsessively watching you dance with Lord of Winterfell.

As he watched, the wayward Prince was gripping the table so tightly that the King’s Hand turned to look where the Prince’s gaze was. When he saw you dancing with the Lord Stark, he immediately excused himself, to maintain a safe distance from his grandson.

The Hand found it ridiculous that you chose to parade yourself in front of the Prince, given that the two of you were to be wed, especially following the events of the afternoon. Though your upcoming union with the Prince has not been declared yet, Otto Hightower did not expect you to act so foolishly, rousing the Prince’s jealousy by dancing with another, especially given his daughter and grandchildren often praised your intelligence. But what could he do? He knew how violently emotional his favourite grandchild could get, and knew better than to interfere.

A slower melody was now being played by the musicians at the Hall, and as it started, you looked up to Lord Stark, about to excuse yourself.

During your time together, Cregan Stark’s gaze persistently stayed on you, his attention never wavering. You, on the other hand, had gotten distracted, and after seeing your Aemond’s petulance, you understood that it would be better to join the miserable company of Lord Larys, or better yet, call it a night and leave to your chambers, for the sake of the evening and avoiding potential conflict. You would not be able to bear it if you were the one who spoiled the Feast before Prince Jaehaerys’s oath ceremony.

“Thank you for the joyful dancing, my Lord. I greatly enjoyed myself – ”

Before you manage to finish your sentence, you feel a hand possessively clasp your clothed shoulder, which takes you aback. Tilting your face to your right, you find the Prince Aemond, stood in close proximity to you, with a neutral expression that would betray nothing, if not for the flaring of his nostrils and the glare he gave the Northman.

Lord Cregan’s hands were on your waist, but upon the arrival of the one-eyed Prince, you had dropped your hold on his shoulders, and the Northman reluctantly followed.

“Lord Stark.” The one-eyed Prince acknowledges rigidly, his voice coarser than usual.

“Prince.”

Your eyes were firmly watched Aemond, almost afraid. You could see him contemplating how to proceed, and you had a feeling that whatever he would decide to say next would only result in disagreement. You were also acutely aware of how the three of you held the attention of the entire Hall, as other conversations have gone silent, and there was less dancing now. This only served to make you feel flustered and warm again. Taking a deep breath, you turn to face Lord Cregan, who you could see was watching you.

“Thank you for the dance, my Lord. Please excuse me.” Similar to earlier, you do not give the Lord of Winterfell an opportunity to respond, nor Prince Aemond, as you quickly shake off the blonde’s hand, and slip between the crowd gathered around, fleeing out of the Great Hall.

Author’s Note: Each time I write, I promise myself that the chapter will not be too long, and each time I fail. Nevertheless, I hope you don't dislike me too much for it, and that you enjoyed!

– Chapter 12

Tags: girl-obsessed-with-things 404slayer404 moonmaiden1996 rosaryos roseanimelover jovialfanatic wishfulwithwine missusnora maat-the-prescriptive @let-love-bleeds-red shnadaidas klutzyfreak mistalli pearlstiare nctma15 weepingfashionwritingplaid ihaveadogithink verycollectivecreator @thelibraperspective eddies-bat-tattoos marcs-luver kpopdistoyedmylife-blog solacestyles lonadane

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 month

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Cregan Stark Masterlist

To join my taglist

Kinktober 2023-2024

Requests: Closed

Cregan Stark: Vaelira Targaryen

Aesthetics:

Vaelira Targaryen aesthetic

Requests:

Jaenera Targaryen Aesthetic

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark fanfiction #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan imagine #cregan stark one shot #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #masterlist #valaenatargaryensdragon

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gtgbabie0 · 6 months

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heyy!! i saw that your reqs are open ans i was wondering if i could ask for an "cregan stark x fem reader" in which the reader is giving birth but she ends up having complications during the birth (blood loss or the baby simply taking too long to come out) and she ends up being unconscious for a while... if that's not ok please ignore it, thank you!! <3

-Cregan Stark x reader

{The birth of your son Brandon Stark was nothing but stressful, and it makes Cregan face some horrible realisations}

CW// descriptions of blood/ reader is giving birth

Hope you enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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It was early in the morning when it began. You were eating breakfast with Cregan when the sharp shooting pain erupted through your lower stomach, it took your breath away and you couldn’t help but reach over to clutch onto his arm with a gasp.

He stops mid-sentence as he watches your face contort with an awful look of discomfort, panic rising in his chest when your eyes meet his.

“My love? What is it?- what happened?” He asks, standing up from his chair. He helps you up, wincing as you scream out in pain. Cregan guides you to the bed his hand soothing your lower back in hopes it’ll relieve your discomfort, but his attempts are fruitless when he notices the tears that fall from your eyes and his heart drops.

You shake your head, squeezing your husband's hands as you try your best to ignore the blood that pools between your legs, “The maesters- please” You gasp between breaths and Cregan doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes out the door.

It isn’t long before people start to barge into the room, orders being thrown around as the midwives lay you down on the bed pressing a cold wet towel on your forehead.

Your body aches as a hot flush wash over you, and every sensation is far too overwhelming, it certainly doesn’t help that your skin is sticky with sweat. You can hear Cregan outside your shared bedchambers before walking through the wooden door, much to the dismay of the nurses.

“What is happening?- please” his voice is strained and he can’t bear to look down at you, the sound of you hyperventilating is enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

The maester looks up at him, “She has started her labour early lord Stark” he takes a deep breath, watching the worry that deepens within Cregan’s eyes, “You must let us work”

Hours have passed since then, the late afternoon sun is peaking behind the curtains and Cregan hasn’t left your side as your clammy hands squeeze his. He chokes back a sob every time you let out an agonising cry, your face pressed into the sweat-soaked pillow as you grit your teeth.

The nurses tell you when to breathe then push, breathe then push and you know for a fact that your body cannot handle much more pain, exhaustion is creeping through your already weak body.

“Almost there lady Stark, almost there” one of the nurses promises, as she switches your cold rag for a new one, and Cregan doesn’t miss the worry in her eyes as she glances down to the blood-soaked sheets beneath you.

“You hear that my love? Almost there” He leans down to press a kiss to your damp hairline, pushing back the wet strands.

His thumb caresses the space under your eye, wiping your tears away as he holds your cheek. “I can’t- Cregan I can’t” you sigh, trying your best to smile up at him.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours “Yes you can. You are the strongest woman I know” he whispers.

You nod, taking a deep breath before squeezing your eyes shut, pushing one last time as the nurses and maesters all shout praises. “A boy!” You hear someone gasp but they seem miles away, and then you hear your baby cry as the midwives move quickly to clean him, wrapping him up in a clean blanket.

The noise of the room seems to bleed together, muffled as if you were underwater and with it goes your sight, then everything seems to stop and for a moment, for the first time in the last seven hours, there is clarity and the ache in your body ebbs away as your eyes flutter close.

The moment your grip on Cregan's hand loosens his heart stops, and the sight of your limp body covered in sweat makes his whole world come crashing down. He can’t think straight and the feeling only grows stronger as his eyes drift to the blood-stains all over your legs and bedsheets.

There’s a lump in the back of his throat that chokes him, and all the words he wants to say, needs to say, die on his tongue.

“My wife- is-” he isn’t able to finish the sentence as the Maester hands him his son, his cries hit Cregan's ears, a painful reminder that no matter what happens to you he has to carry on, a harsh reality that he can’t bare to face.

Before he has time to even look down at his child he’s already being whisked away from his arms, wet nurses attending to him. It’s almost as if the world has slowed down, and he can’t breathe.

“She has lost a lot of blood, my lord,” The maester says, his tone soft and gentle as he cleans up, taking out some strong-smelling herbs. “The best we can do is let her rest, if she doesn’t wake within the hour hold this under her nose” he nods about to leave the room.

“She’ll live?” Cregan's voice is weak as he gently holds your hand.

“Of course my lord, as you said, she is a strong woman” he smiles before leaving the room, and it’s only when the door closes that his tears fall so effortlessly from his eyes, and he pleads to any Gods who are willing to listen to him that you’ll be okay.

Cregan doesn’t leave your side once as the hours pass by. His hand gently lays over the top of your heart. The feeling of it beating beneath his palm gives him hope. He gently pushes your hair back, tucking the strands behind your ear as he waits on bated breath for you to wake up.

He watches your eyes flutter and immediately sits up, shuffling to sit closer to you. You groan something incoherent, but he can tell from the way you sound it’s out of nothing but pain. He’s quick to hush you, guiding you to lay back down, to your dismay.

“Y/n, please- relax, my love” he pleads with you as you grab ahold of his hand.

“Our son? Is he-?” You panic, voice hoarse as you try to sit up, ignoring the pain that seizes your body.

“He’s fine, I promise-” He whispers, watching your panicked eyes flicker frantically around the room, "But you, my love- please you need to rest” The way his voice trembles with worry makes you listen, that and the unbearable ache in your bones.

You look up at him, tears in your eyes as the heaviness of the situation finally weighs upon you. “I want to see him, please?” You whisper, and the hoarseness in your voice makes his heartbreak.

He wipes away the tears that fall from your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You will, I promise.” His voice calms your nerves. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? He’s not going anywhere” Cregan smiles as you nod.

“Okay. I do need a bath” You let out a raspy giggle, relief washing over you as Cregan chuckles beside you.

“Of course, my sweet wife” he smiles, his hand gently caressing your cheek before disappearing off, but not without looking back at you, a sad look clouded over his tired eyes.

The water is pleasantly warm against your skin, your hands grasping onto your husband’s shoulders as he helps you into the wooden tub. There’s a thick layer of silence that falls upon you both, it almost feels suffocating.

Cregan doesn’t mutter a word as he washes you. The water sloshing around, and the harsh wind is the only thing you can hear. It’s you who breaks the silence, catching his hands within your own.

You bring his hands to cup your face, “I’m okay. Cregan? Look at me, please?” You plead, noticing how he hasn’t been able to keep eye contact since you woke up.

There are tears that build up in his eyes, a dam of emotions that burst out of him. “I thought I lost you” he whispers, voice strained as he breaks down completely, the last hour finally catching up to him.

“But you didn’t Cregan, I’m right here” You don’t bother trying to hide your own tears, and he’s quick to wipe them away.

He leans to rest his forehead against your own, “I know” his voice is so quiet that if he were sitting any further, you wouldn’t be able to hear him, “But you almost weren’t, and I can’t live without you” he presses his lips against yours in a gentle, loving kiss.

“You don’t have to, I am right here, my love,” you tell him, kissing him once more before he pulls away. “I love you” you smile, as he goes to start washing your hair.

“I love you more… more than words could ever express” he finishes washing you. His touch is overwhelmingly gentle, so full of love that it makes your chest bloom with warmth.

The way his fingertips graze along your arms, how his lips feel as they press kisses along your shoulders. Small whispers of sweet nothings shared between you both in the candle-lit bathroom only ever to be heard by the pair of you.

You lean on Cregan like a crutch as he helps you from the bath, drying you off and changing you into fresh clean sleep clothes. Your bedchambers have been aired out by herbs and incense, and the bed sheets have been changed.

It feels so heavenly as you climb into bed. The sun was well and truly set. “I have a visitor for you” Cregan smiles, walking into the room with your son in his arms, wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp as he hands him to you. He stirs from his sleep with the movement. His tiny fingers wrap around your own as you admire him. “He’s perfect” You press a kiss to his forehead. Cregan sits beside you on the bed, the back of his fingers caressing his son's cheek.

“Brandon Stark” you whisper, looking over to your husband as he glances over at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

You lean your head against his shoulder, smiling when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer, before pulling the sheets over your legs. “Brandon Stark” he repeats with approval, and you both chuckle as your son gurgles up at you with wide eyes.

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ireneispunk · 19 days

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how they hold you x HoTD men

i saw these photosets and could NOT refuse! so here are the HoTD men and how (i imagine) they would hold you included: aemond, daemon, jacaerys, aegon, criston cole, harwin strong

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

+bonus

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fairysluna · 29 days

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Canon era Cregan Stark + being a softie with his Targ wife in the Godswood, just him and her playing in the snow type vibes

-🦊

how i looove cregan x targ!reader, so im just gonna add this little drabble to my among wolves and dragons series, though it can obviously be read as a standalone!! thank you foxy for this cute request!! ily🤍

tags — just fluff and domestic cregan for my cregan girlies out there.

Your hysterical laugh would make his heart burst with joy — contagious enough to make him giggle like a boy as he chased you down the Godswood. You heard his fastened breathing and the cracking of the leaves behind you, knowing he was about to catch you; you tried to run faster, but your long dress and heavy fur coat made it impossible for you to move quickly through the sticks and snow. It was no surprise when your husband finally put his arms around your waist, holding you against his chest as he let out some breathy chuckles against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Got you,” he whispered in your ear, causing shivers all over your body. You shrink in your position, his breathing tickling you and making you giggle. “Got to pay me now, right?” he mentioned before turning your body around in order to face you. Involuntarily, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to get closer to him. He closed his eyes and pouted his lips, asking you for a simple kiss. You contemplated his beauty for a second, using your fingertips to trace his manly features before you cupped his face — his stubble brushing against your palm as you motioned him down, closer to you.

You brushed your nose against his, humming when his grip around your body tightened; his touch so possessive, yet so gentle. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed as his expression softened, quickly turning into a puddle between your arms. He leaned forward, blindly and instinctively searching for your lips. He was growing impatient, but complying to his wishes was not in your plans.

Before touching his lips with yours, you took him by surprise and pushed him into the soft, cold snow. You attempted to run away from there, thinking that your silly game would continue; however, before you stepped any further, you heard Cregan starting to groan almost as if he was in pain. Your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and guilt as you quickly reached his side again, kneeling and trying to see where he was hurting. His name became almost a chant from your lips as you desperately tried to see what was wrong, until he suddenly trapped you with his big arms once again and pressed you down the snow.

You squealed, hearing him laughing victorious. “You're such a fool! You scared me!” You tried to push him in the chest but his large hands grabbed yours and placed them above your head. He then leans towards you with that smug grin that would make your knees weak, and he kissed you so fervently that a soft moan left your lips. His touch was possessive, a bit rough and brutish, but it did not fail to make you see stars behind your eyelids. You sighed enamored once he pulled back.

“I'm just claiming my price, my love,” he softly said, giving soft kisses all over your face as you tried your hardest to look mad.

“I shall feed you to my dragon if you do this to me again!” you threatened, receiving a low chuckle from him.

“I'll take the risk.”

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

CREGAN TAG LIST — @purplequxxn @iloveharbingers @jeongiegram @koobratzy @foxyanon

#cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #cregan stark fanfic

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loveslibrarywp · 4 months

Note

Kindly begging pretty please for Cregan content with Rhaenyra’s daughter!reader and her going to Winterfell/marrying him for the sake of the Blacks 🙌

Marriage for duty

Cregan Stark x Velaryon/Strong!reader

Summary: After delievering the message and proposal from your mother to the Lord of Winterfell, you’re now stuck with getting married to a Lord you barely know. Yet, he comforts you during your time at Winterfell and completely changes your mind.

Warnings: Cregan being a cutie.

Authors note: shitty summary but whatever..

You sigh as you take off your fur coat as you were now in the heat of your chambers. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking in some of your last days as a free, unmarried woman.

Your mother proposed that you marry Lord Cregan Stark, a man you had just met. She did this to unite their houses and to gain more men for the war. Cregan wasn’t cruel or evil from what you saw, and he wasn’t old either. He was a handsome man, that was a plus to this arrangement.

But, you weren’t ready for marriage. You didn’t know much about being a wife or your duties as such. You picked up your comb and brushed out your long, dark curls. After a long day of negotiating and talking to the men of Winterfell, you needed a hot bath.

A knock came from your door, startling you. You put down your wooden comb and opened the door. A gush of cold wind came rushing through. It was Cregan standing outside.

He quickly came in and shut the door. “My apologies for my sudden arrival, my lady.” He said as he looked down at you. “It is alright, my lord.” You said as you went to go add more firewood to the burning flames of your fireplace.

“I have noticed that you aren’t very comfortable here..” he said as he watched your form move around the room. “I’m fine, my lord. Just not used to the weather here is all.” You said as you brushed your hands on your dress as you awkwardly laugh.

“It is not that. Perhaps, you aren’t very comfortable with me and our betrothal?” He questioned as he cleared his throat nervously. You look up at him, “No, my lord. It is the idea of marriage itself. I fear I am not ready.” You sigh, your face full of sorrow.

He steps towards you and takes your hands into his grasp, “you will be a wonderful wife, I know it. And I will be a good and faithful husband.” He reassures you, caressing your hands with his fingers. “I know you will be, you seem to be a very kind man.” Your face feels hot and his gaze is intense. Your eyes drift to the ground to avoid his eyesight.

“You’re too beautiful to hide your face.” He said as he lifted your face up to meet his gaze. Your eye widened and you blush furiously. A little smile appears on your lips, “you charm me, my lord.”

“That is the goal, my lady.” He smirked, you laugh at his remarks. His smile only grows at your laughter.

“I shall take you on a walk through the village tomorrow. Maybe I can even introduce you to my favorite stalls that sells the most delicious desserts you will ever have the pleasure of tasting.” He goes on, you smiled up at the man, feeling much better than you did before.

“I’d like that very much, my lord.” You said. He gleamed at your approval, “perfect, I will see you in the morning then.”

“Until then…” you said with a bright smile. “Goodnight, my lady.” He kissed your hands, never breaking eye contact with you. Your cheeks had to be redder than cherries by now.

“Goodnight..” you said as you watched him leave your room. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all..

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #hotd cregan #hotd #house of the dragon #winterfell #house stark #rhaenyra targaryen

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koobratzy · 3 months

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The Jewel of the North

Just a little fanfic idea I had. No one writes for Cregan, so now I take it upon myself to deliver what we've all been waiting for. Let me know what you think, and please reblog if you like what I wrote so far. It will help me reach a bigger audience <3 I love you all. Remember to take care of yourself!

Y/N Valaryon always knew she was a bastard. Her silver hair and violet eyes protected her from such rumors, making the court believe that she was the only trueborn child of Leanor, but she knew the truth. She was as much out of wedlock as her younger brothers.

The princess could see how Daemon Targaryen looked at her. He tried to be discreet, but his eyes always followed her like a shadow, no matter where she went. The prince was like a ghost. Hovering over her at all times but invisible to the naked eye. When Y/N managed to catch his gaze, there was longing inside. Desire to be near, to show his devotion for what it was. Love for his firstborn child. But he couldn't openly do that. The court was too watchful of Rhaenyra anyway, even without his involvement in the young princess's life.

Her own personality convinced her even further. She was full of fire. The veins inside her body transported heat with every breath, her heart burning with so much anger that even the princess got scared sometimes. From a young age, Y/N trained with a sword, just like her brothers did, and the abilities she presented could put many young lordlings to shame. It only became more apparent when the dragonless princess was found by Cannibal. Rhaenyra was terrified, her only daughter standing so close to the ferocious beast capable of swallowing her whole. And yet, it never happened. The dangerous monstrosity picked her. Of all dragons, she was chosen by him. The only beast that could match her inner flame and rage.

Young Valaryon knew that she was his. They could pretend all they wanted, but she knew the truth.

When Laenor Valaryon died, the curtains of the theatre of life they played so long finally fell, and Daemon got what he always wanted. His firstborn daughter. He could finally be the father he always wanted to be and help her reach full potential. Show not only how to control her rage but also how to use it to achieve whatever she dreamed of. His daughter would always be protected, either by him or her own strength.

Their life on Dragonstone was perfect. Cheerful, free of any worries, luxurious. Peaceful without the constant unsettling presence of her uncles. But dark clouds were gathering over the clear skies. A storm more dangerous than any in history was coming way quicker than anyone expected, and it was ready to devour House Targaryen with its jaws, throwing the realm into chaos.

What will become of Y/N's life? Will her entire world burn? Or is a bit of ice and snow enough to extinguish it before it turns into ashes?

#house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #targaryen reader

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dragons-and-handcuffs · 3 months

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Cregan Stark x Targ!reader

Okay but imagine Cregan Stark and Rhaenyra's daughter!reader. It's a arranged marriage completely for political reasons and strategies. Cregan is a man, not a boy like your brothers or your uncles. He is the warden of the North. Whereas you are inexperienced and only blossomed into a beautiful woman not long ago.

You always felt like you are a bargaining chip. First your mother tried to arrange a marriage between you and Aegon, then to a son of Vamond Velaryon, then to your own brother Jace. But at last it was decided that marrying you off to Cregan Stark is the best strategy. Because of all these you thought your marriage was just a duty to your queen, but Cregan was looking for a wife, a companion.

You thought maybe if it comes to it Cregan would also use you as a bargaining chip. You were so very wrong.

Imagine your wedding night. You are shy and scared. But Cregan is so gentle with you. Just you and him in the cozy room. He can tell you are inexperienced and he has a lot to show you, teach you. That night it was all about your pleasure. His fingers and tongue made you cum many times before he finally claimed you. Imagine waking up the next morning in his arms, both coverd with a thick blankt of fur.

There is a hight difference and size difference and your husband loves it. You found him intimidating at first but you have grown to feel secured around him and with him.

He doesn't mind you wearing the Targaryen colors at all, but the first time you wore the Stark colors he was mesmerized. Immediately pulled you into a kiss, didn't care who was watching.

Imagine you opening up to him. Telling him how you feel like a bargaining chip all your life. And how you were not expecting to find a home at the North, a home with him. Imagine saying all this to him right after you two made love in front of the first place and now only overed with his fur cloak, his arms around you, gently caressing you, kissing your shoulder and neck.

Cregan assuring you that you were never a political arrangement to him, but he is happy that none of the other betrothal worked out. He loves you and he will love you till his last breath.

Imagine you laying on top of him, looking at him and talking as he caresses your back.

Imagine you flying your dragon and Cregan on his horse. A silly race that end on your both making love in a beautiful place with a beautiful scenery

#cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hotd #game of thrones #house of the dragon #game of thrones imagines #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd one shot #house of the dragon imagine

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damn-stark · 6 months

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Chapter 27 Million years

Chapter 27 of Moonlight

A/N- Are they finally gonna get together?

Warning- Swearing, angst, talks of death, fluff!! and SPOILERS for future events of HOTD!!!!

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

Episode- After 1x09, events based off of Fire and Blood

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW WEEKS LATER*

“The scouts have not sent any new reports on Alys, but they’ve heard rumors spreading about a babe with scales and a tale being born to a witch.”

You hum in comprehension and look out the balcony to think about what was just said to you.

They probably won’t find her, she’s smart, and she’s lived for a long time for that reason. Is it worth it to keep looking for someone who can see visions? There’s so much on your plate already too; annoying Lords, being Queen, the wedding, the rest of the Martell family, and Dorne’s most respected lords coming for the wedding. And it’s not like you can undo what she did, you should have known better than to trust her. Plus you’re beginning to lack enough anger to try and chase after her around the Riverlands.

She may rot—

Suddenly you lose all train of thought as you catch Cregan down below walking, talking, and smiling with the black-haired beauty that is Lady Alysanne Blackwood. She’s so close to him, basically rubbing arms, she’s batting her eyelashes at him, and he’s flashing his charming rare smiles. He’s—

You had to let him go, it was better to let him go, but you still can’t help but feel…jealous. You feel it deep in your stomach. You feel slight anger growing within you at the sight of the pair, at the thought that they make a good couple. They make a more plausible couple too.

But you still want that to be you at his side, you still want to see him smile and look at you with a soft and loving look, and you want to laugh with him without having to hide. You still want to be at his side, you want to be her…

But you can’t. You can’t be together and you have to accept that—you accept it, besides you’re getting married soon and so far Prince Namor isn’t terrible…

Life was so much easier when you were with Aemond. Your only desire then was to see your mother and brothers again, you didn’t have any significant concerns. It was easy with Aemond and you only realize that now.

“Your Grace?”

“Hm?” You hum and pull your eyes away from Cregan to look at one of your new ladies-in-waiting helping you with the wedding.

“Which design for the wedding dress’s cape do you prefer?” She asks.

You spare one last glance at Cregan and Lady Alyssane, and frown with displeasure before you look at the designs the designer has drawn up. They’re all beautiful, one is red adorned with gold, and the other one is long and shaped like dragon wings. You’ll probably go with the latter.

“Have this one brought,” you point to the dragon wing cape and slowly look out the balcony again and still see Cregan and Alyssane.

It’s like he’s torturing you. You hate it, you hate seeing him with her. But you have to—

“Ser Crane,” you cut off your lady-in-waiting to address the Lord Commander of your Queensguard, a tall muscular man, with a stern face, a shaved head, a dark goatee, and a kind heart. “I request the presence of Lord Stark right away.”

The man bows his head and quickly heads on out, letting you focus back on your lady-in-waiting. “The dragon wing one is fine, have the second dress brought, I really don’t mind, it’s my third wedding I just want to get it over with.”

The lady looks at you a bit puzzled at your lack of excitement, but does as you ask, letting you wait for Cregan in the parlor room.

Considering he wants to stay here until the kingdom is somewhat stable you see a lot of him. A lot. He’s at every council meeting, he’s at every hearing, if you’re out in the city he is too, he’s like your Hand or a Queensguard. Without actually having the titles.

You like that he is but you also don’t like it because he’s a temptation. Plus Prince Namor and him don’t get along so well.

And well, you understand why Cregan wouldn’t like him, but you don’t understand why Prince Namor doesn’t like Cregan, it’s not like you talk to Cregan a lot in public. In private? Yes, he likes to come visit Daenerys, and he can’t exactly spend time with her alone because people would talk, so you’re always there acting like you need his help. But other than that you don’t know why Prince Namor is so hostile—does he see something?

Nevertheless, a knock raps on the door, and when you welcome the visitor you see exactly who you need, Cregan.

“Your Grace,” he greets and bows.

You cross your leg over the other and offer him a faint smile. “Lord Stark,” you greet formally as your Queensguard walks out. “Sorry, my request is so sudden. I hope you weren’t busy.” You offer him a wider smile and watch him come sit down across from you.

“Well,” he says. “Whenever you call, I come. So no, I was not busy.”

The room's doors close and Cregan looks around. “Where’s Daenerys?” He asks.

You grab your goblet of wine and shake your head. “Not here. This is about another matter.” You take a sip and meet his grey eyes as he looks at you with curiosity. “This is actually about the Night's Watch.”

Cregan leans in and props on hand on his leg to probe. “What about it?”

You made a promise, so you will see through to that promise, or at least prepare the next ruler if it doesn’t come true in your lifetime.

“How many people are posted in the Night’s watch, at all castles? Just a rough estimate,” you continue to ask without actually being clear about anything.

Cregan sits back and shrugs. “Not much, perhaps just under one thousand men, or even less…why the sudden interest?” He presses. “Royalty doesn’t really bother to care for the Night’s watch.”

You swallow thickly and avert your gaze.

You know you can trust him, you know that the smart thing would be telling a Stark as well, after all the threat comes from the distant North, they deserve to know. But it’s difficult speaking about something told to you by your mother.

“Do you remember the stories you’d tell me?” You begin slowly. “About what may live beyond the wall?”

Cregan nods. “Yes, just children's stories.”

You exhale deeply and meet his gaze. “What if they aren’t just stories? What if…something like the Long Night happens again?”

Cregan blinks repeatedly in disbelief and his lips twitch to a teasing smile. “It won’t, it can’t be possible. The first member of the Night's watch drove them away. But again, it’s just a story.”

You put the goblet down and lean forward so he can see you’re being serious. “Cregan, listen to me. I'm being serious. And you can’t tell anyone, I wasn’t allowed to tell you, it’s a secret passed from Targaryen ruler to heir, so please guard this secret with your life.”

Said man narrows his eyes and his teasing smile falls. He doesn’t hesitate to assure you, mostly because he thinks you’re somehow joking. “I swear.”

You exhale deeply. “Long ago,” you begin. “My ancestor, King Aegon, had a dream. A prophecy of the end of the world of men that begins with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant North.”

Cregan swallows back nervously and you see his shoulders tense.

“Aegon saw darkness riding on those winds,” you continue. “And whatever hides within will destroy the land of the living. And when this Great Winter comes, all of Westeros must stand against it. And if the world of men is to survive it a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. Someone strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the darkness. So that's why I ask, the Night's Watch is our first line of defense, it may not happen in my lifetime, or in any of my children’s lifetimes, but I still made a promise. I can’t fail her, nor can I fail them.”

Cregan drops his head and brushes his fingers through his hair.

“I know,” you add softly. “It’s hard to believe. But you have to believe me. I wouldn’t toy with this.”

Cregan stays quiet for a moment before he snaps his head up and meets your gaze with a narrowed look. “You believe the prophecy?” He asks. “With your heart?”

You don’t hesitate, you nod. “I do.”

Cregan raises his chin and nods. “Then I believe you too.”

You smile and sigh with relief. “Thank you.” You whisper.

“What do you want me to do then?” He asks.

You sigh. “We can’t force people to man the castles, one it might not happen anytime soon, two, people don’t volunteer like before. But I will try from my end to send prisoners to the Night's watch. What I need from you are reports from every exploration the men have. As boring as they may be, I can’t risk missing something.”

Cregan nods in comprehension. “I will do it. But you must visit them too, you know? Just as Queen Alysanne did.”

You grin softly. “I will. I mean I do have a dragon to travel far so I will,” you assure him. “We often tend to forget the Night’s watch. I will try not to.”

“And…” Cregan adds with a growing smile. “You stop by and visit me too. Winterfell will always be your home. It can be.”

“Cregan,” you warn him.

“You’re still not married, why can’t—”

“I just said one reason,” you cut him off. “Besides even if there wasn’t a reason, would you have left your home behind, your land, and people to become King?” You ask seriously.

Cregan’s smile falls and his face grows hard and serious. “No,” he answers bluntly.

You scoff softly and nod slowly. “Exactly. So please just don’t bring it up again. I still want to be your friend.”

Cregan holds your gaze for a moment before he scoffs and looks away and shakes his head. You’re about to question him, but a knock raps on your door so you’re left in tension.

“Come in,” you address the visitor.

The door opens and you look over and see…Rhaena.

The annoyance and tension you just felt falls completely and your eyes fill with happy tears.

You haven’t seen her since the war started. You’ve heard of her from letters or other people’s mouths, but it’s been so long. You thought you would never see her again, you feared something would happen to her even if she was in a safe place.

“Rhaena,” you muse and jump off your seat to run over to her. She matches your pace and meets you halfway with an embrace.

“Y/N,” she whispers.

She’s one of the few family members you have left. One of the two people you grew up with. Your home was when you were with your mother, with your brothers too, so you’ll never feel at home anymore, but with Baela and Rhaena still alive there’s a sense of safety you do feel.

“Why…” you trail off and pull back to face her. “Why wasn’t I told you were here already?” You ask.

Rhaena smiles. “We wanted it to be a surprise. Baela says you’d appreciate it.”

You flash her a grin and nod. “I do—and your hatchling. You have a dragon now!”

Rhaena nods and pulls away to glance back at the crate that’s brought in by a servant. You were so distracted with her that you failed to notice her servants.

“Wait,” you cut her off and glance back at Cregan standing by the table you were just at. “I should introduce you to someone first.” You wave Cregan over, and he quickly makes his way to your side.

“Rhaena this is Cregan Stark,” you introduce him. “An old friend and Lord of Winterfell, of course. Cregan, this is my cousin, Lady Rhaena Targaryen.”

Cregan bows his head out of respect and Rhaena smiles at him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Lady Rhaena,” he says. “The Queen here would speak fondly of you when she lived in Winterfell.”

You grin wider, and Rhaena looks between Cregan and you before she focuses on Cregan. “It’s nice to meet you too, Lord Stark.”

“I hope to make your acquaintance whilst my stay here,” Cregan adds. “Your sister is quite the spitfire, I’m interested in getting to know you too.”

Rhaena laughs softly. “Likewise.”

Cregan sighs and faces you. “I’ll see you later, My Queen.” He bows and then bows his head at Rhaena before he leaves. Once he’s out the door you follow Rhaena to the table and watch her open the crate to then pull out a small pink and black hatchling.

“Oh gods,” you muse excitedly. “Look at it!”

“Her name is Morning,” she reveals and turns to show her off to you.

You reach over and caress her scaled head and beam at her. “You may be our savior,” you tell the little dragon. “I’m happy for you Rhaena,” you direct at your cousin. “I know how much you’ve dreamed of having one, I’m glad you finally bonded with one. It’s a great pleasure.”

“Thank you. And I’m happy too, I can’t wait to ride her,” she muses.

You hum and step back. “It’s really the best thing in the world. How is she? Does she eat? Sleep well?” You ask since there are so few dragons left now. Greyghost flew away after Ser Jason’s death, and Silverwing and Astraea are the only ones that are left in King’s Landing. Two out of so many that were alive.

“Yes, she’s doing well, she’s healthy,” Rhaena assures you as you walk over to sit on the couch to take advantage of the fact that you’re not being swamped. “Is Astraea doing well?”

You nod. “Very. She’s healed well.”

“And Lord Stark?” She asks and catches you off guard. “First name bases?”

You avert your gaze and shrug. “Yes, we lived together for five years. Of course, we go by each other's first names.”

Rhaena walks over with a smile and her dragon draped on her shoulder. “Hm…okay, your eyes and smiles say otherwise.”

You glare at her. “You’ve been here for just a few minutes what—Baela.”

Rhaena smirks. “You burned half the city this is just some free punishment.” She rebuttals.

You scoff and go serious. “What do you think about that? Baela is upset, she’s calmed down a bit since then, but she’s still upset. What are your thoughts?” You ask on the matter.

Rhaena draws out a deep breath and frowns with sadness. “I think you could’ve done things differently. But I also know that sometimes the most ugly things have to be done. I know…my father would’ve approved.”

You scoff with amusement.

“I know that Rhaenyra could’ve used more fire…perhaps then she would still be alive,” she mumbles with a hint of sadness in her tone. “So I think you did what you had to do. Besides you did it already we can’t take it back, we have to move on. Right?” She asks and meets your gaze.

You hold her gaze for a moment before you nod softly and feel your breath tremble as you breathe out. “About that…I was waiting for you to come…” you trail off and feel your eyes water, your throat begin to burn, and you feel your chest get heavy. “…so we could hold a funeral for my mother. I know you were close to her, so I thought you’d want to be there. Prince Namor said it’d be healthy, so I want to have one.”

A short silence follows before Rhaena interjects quietly. “That would be nice…I would be honored to be there. Thank you for waiting for me.”

You keep your head down to avoid seeing the nightmare flashes and memories that threaten to show. “No problem…it’ll be before the wedding,” you mention shakily.

“Y/N—”

“It’ll be okay,” you cut her off to avoid falling into that hole. “I’m okay.”

——

*LATER*

“Your Grace, The Lannisters are approaching and should arrive by nightfall. And the Baratheons will be here this evening.”

You look at Ser Crane through the long mirror and nod in comprehension. “Thank you, Ser, and if I’m not here by the time the Baratheons have my grandfather set up their welcome according to their status.”

The Lord Commander nods and turns stiffly to walk out. And while he was walking out one of your ladies in waiting walks in with a bouquet of Blue Winter Roses.

“My Queen,” she says with excitement in her voice as she approaches you. “These are for you from an old friend they said.”

You turn away from the mirror and take the bouquet from her hands. You read the notecard and even if it doesn't say a name you know it can only be from one person. One person knows that out of every flower in the world, these are your favorite, Cregan. Only he knows that these flowers are a symbol of your love.

So what do the flowers mean this time? He gave you some for your wedding tournament to show his love, to show you aren't forgotten. And this time what else can they be but another symbol?

It’s a symbol of hope now too. They’re a temptation you finally start to give into as your grief is crashing into you a lot stronger than before as you dress in all black to say one last goodbye to the woman you loved. They serve only to bring out this deep desire of wanting him to shield you from that pain, of wanting him to hold you until you feel an ounce of comfort back in your limp heart.

You want to be with him, and these winter roses are like a sign to give in and sacrifice everything just to be in his arms and go back to a place where you had felt happy once before. They’re a declaration of love and an offer.

And you’re in so much agony, you feel it now eating away at you as each second brings you closer to lighting her pyre. You just want some relief…

So you look up from the flowers in your hand and break into a stride to go to him. You feel eager and selfish. Like a fragment of who you used to be could return at the sight of him in this very moment.

However, the door opens for a third time and Prince Namor walks in, so you stop in your tracks and drop your smile.

“Those are beautiful.”

You made her a promise. You remember now at the sight of your betrothed.

“Who are they from?” He asks.

You blink and offer him a faint smile. “An old friend,” you mutter and turn to put the winter roses down on the table.

“Oh, well, they’re beautiful,” he says as he follows you back to the mirror. “Anyway, your cousins are ready. Are you?”

You pick up your mother's valyrian steel necklace from the cushion and sigh deeply as you remember her wearing it.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “I am ready.”

——

*25 YEARS LATER. 156 AC*

What good is peace if all you wear is mourning attire?

“Today with these ashes we spread, may he return to the sand, may he return to the earth…”

Ashes fall from the septon's hands and trinkle onto the sand below. You follow the particles of what had remained of your husband until it mixes with the grains of sand.

“…may he give life to what sprouts so that his legacy lives on forever in the hearts and minds of the four children he leaves behind, Prince Maekor, Princess Valaena, Prince Laenor, and Prince Rhaegar. And so his wife, her grace, Y/N Targaryen carries him on forever in her heart.”

You sigh and keep your eyes on the ashes that mix with the sand below, and then feel a hand carefully wrap around yours. When you glance over you meet the dark eyes of your youngest son with Prince Namor, Rhaegar. The boy named after your mother, you offer him a faint smile and give him a reassuring squeeze.

“May he meet his ancestors and continue to watch over his kin. May Prince Namor of House Martell find peace!” The septon shouts. You look up at him and then hear snickering, so your attention drifts to your right side and you see your second youngest son, Prince Laenor, snickering at his brother since he sees him holding your hand. You think nothing wrong with it though, Namor was their father, he was a good one at that, and Rhaegar is like Lucerys, sensible and more open to showing and receiving affection.

Thus you shoot Laenor a glare and he quickly drops his smirk and goes quiet, and once he does you point to his older sister, Princess Valaena as she stood crying for the father she lost. Laenor understands what you want and even if he sighs he steps forward to wrap his arm around his sister, making her husband Lord Ellis Blackwood pull his arm off her shoulder to hold her hand instead.

You smile at the interaction of your daughter and her husband. They’ve been married for three years now, but seeing how kind and smitten he is with her still surprises you and brings you joy as if it were the first time seeing it. And you know you react like that because of your fear of marrying your children outside of Targaryen, and or Velaryon families. You only accepted this match because Lord Ellis is the eldest son of Bloody Ben, the man-boy you fought alongside at Tumbleton, the man-boy who had retrieved Addam’s body.

Other than that, all your other kid marriages are kept between the Targaryen’s and Velaryon’s, you don’t want to make the same mistake your grandfather Viserys made when he married Alicent.

It’s why your Hand was Baela for a few years until none other than your little brother, Viserys returned a few years back. With a wife, you wouldn't approve of, but she’s gone now and her family was basically his captor when he came back, without her they wouldn’t let him stay. It was smart but regardless, he’s your Hand now. He’s smart, tactical, and kind.

His kids though…more specifically his eldest, is something else, but that’s besides the fact.

What matters now is that you are a widow for a third time. It’s unfortunate that you had to be Aegon's widow, but at least now that title is gone and you’re Namor’s widow now. It’s bad to point out, but this new loss has your mind raveled. Not like when your mother or the rest of your family died, but after you spend 25 years with someone it has to affect you in some way. Especially when you had 4 more children with him.

But it’s those 4 children, plus the other three, that don’t make you fall into that pit you were stuck in before. They keep you upright now, and they’re all the ones that make you feel your heart again. Instead, you are there for them as they grieve their father. You comfort them as best as you can as you get taken back to the Red Keep.

Once you’re inside and attending the banquet in Namor’s name you approach Valaena.

“Forgive me, mother,” she interjects in a shaky voice.

You furrow your eyebrows and cup her cheek to dry away her tears. “Whatever for?” You query.

“Crying, for not being strong, especially in front of everyone,” she reveals, making you scoff softly.

“Oh my sweet girl, it’s okay to cry, he was your father,” you assure her. “You can cry as much as you want to.”

“But you’re strong,” she says and holds your other hand.

You smile and shake your head. “When I lost my own father I was inconsolable, I wanted to jump off the ship that was taking me to Winterfell to see your grandfather's resting place. I was anything but strong. So it’s okay.”

Valaena lets out a shaky sigh and offers you a soft smile.

“Now,” you add and slide your hands down to grab her hands. “How are my grandchildren?” You ask and look at her swollen belly. “Five more months to go.”

Valaena grins. “They’re great, moving, and with strong heartbeats. The both of them.”

“Great, I’m glad.”

“Prince Aerion of House Velaryon! Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides!” The guard announces.

You and your daughter share a short glance before you turn and watch your only son with Aemond and the proof of your love comes waltzing in late.

Your guests greet him as they make a path towards you and your family, and he redirects that greeting with a formal smile. But when his blue eyes land on you and the rest of his siblings his grin widens, and one person quickly pushes himself out of his seat and runs around the table to greet him.

“Aerion!” Your eldest son with Namor, Maekor, shouts excitedly.

Said man chuckles and changes his pace to a jog as Maekor runs down the steps and runs to his brother. When they meet halfway, Maekor jumps on his brother, and Aerion doesn’t hesitate to squeeze him back.

“Maekor! Brother!” Aerion greets and lets his brother go.

Ever since your first child with Namor was born you made it your job that they got along, that they all got along and didn’t treat each other like Aemond and Aegon treated your mother. Your kids fought, of course they did, but they never hated themselves like your mother and her siblings.

“Aerion!” Laenor shouts and runs over followed by Rhaegar, while Valaena and Daenerys stay with you to wait for Aerion to finish greeting his brothers

“He’s late,” Daenerys mutters. “And where’s Daenys?”

“Probably getting here even more late,” Valaena counters.

You hum in agreement and watch as the three boys huddle around their older brother

“Which reminds me,” Valaena interjects. “The Stark’s didn’t come.”

You glance at your daughter at the mention of that infamous name and then look down to think about Cregan.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, ten years perhaps? Maybe even more? You really wanted to see him, he’s a widow too, longer than you have been.

“Mother!”

You snap your eyes up and see Aerion approaching with his arms open, but you place a hand on your hip and shoot him a pointed look.

“You’re late,” you point out as he wraps his arm around you. “Three days late.”

Aerion presses kisses on the side of your head to try and make you forget, and it works because you hug him back and when you pull away you grab his jaw. “I missed you,” you tell him, making him grin. “Where’s Daenys?”

Aerion sighs and pulls away, his smile falls and he looks at his sisters. “Well,” he adds. “Uh, Daenys stayed in Driftmark because she gave birth.”

You gasp and grab his arm. “Birth? It’s a month too soon,” you stammer out.

“Is she okay?” Daenerys asks right away.

Aerion nods. “Yes, she’s just recovering. She’s okay. Both her and our son.”

You sigh with relief but you still pinch him. “Why didn’t you say anything? You should’ve sent a Raven.”

Valaena steps forward to smack his arm. “Why didn’t you start off by saying she’s okay? Jerk.”

Aerion chuckles. “Well, it wouldn't have mattered, you all still would’ve worried. Anyway, she’ll come in a week or two. I came early to be with you,” he directs at his sister's, mainly at Valaena. “I don’t remember my father, but I do know longing. And it does get better, Valaena.”

Valaena offers him a gentle smile and they hug before he hugs Daenerys. She’s actually about to say something, but then Aerion gently pushes her away as he spots Ser Crane.

“Old man,” he greets. “You get older every time I see you.”

Ser Crane huffs. “Yet it’s possible I might outlive you, my Prince.”

Aerion grins and pats his shoulder when he sees him and then moves past him when he spots Valaena’s husband.

“Ellis!” He shouts before he runs over to embrace him and pats his back.

“Aerion, buddy, we've been waiting for you!”

You watch your other sons huddle around the pair and turn to walk to Lord Cane.

“He says Daenys gave birth,” you mention and watch your nieces approach their respected partner. “That’s why he’s late.”

“The boat has been here since this morning,” he rats Aerion out without hesitation. “He was probably sleeping or joined in some tournament.”

You scoff. “I don’t know where he gets these tendencies from, his father was never like this.”

“His uncle was—”

“I’ll burn you,” you cut him off before he could say Aegon’s name, making him chuckle.

“I’ll talk to him,” Lord Crane assures you and passes you your goblet of wine.

You shake your head. “Don’t waste your breath, he’s almost 30, he won’t learn anymore. He’s got a thick head.”

Lord Crane chuckles.

You smile and take a drink of your wine before you change the subject. “I’m going to make rounds.” You turn, and he mirrors your actions to follow you to the first Lord and Lady you see, but then the guard at the entrance interrupts you.

“Lord Cregan of House Stark, Lord of the Winterfell, and Warden of the North.”

You gasp softly and snap your eyes to the door, catching him, Cregan, your old friend, and love your life, walking down the steps with his men and a young lady you assume is one of his daughters Lord Alyssane gave him during their marriage.

Everyone watches the mighty Lord with his fur cloak over his broad shoulders and body that's grown more toned over the years. But through the sea of people, he finds you.

Cregan’s grey eyes find you as he makes his way to you first. And when he reaches you, your heart skips a beat as if it were the first time you’ve seen him. He proceeds to bow and the young lady beside him does too.

“My Queen,” he greets.

You hand the goblet of wine back to your Lord Commander and when Cregan straightens out, you offer him a kind smile. “Lord Stark,” you greet sweetly.

“My condolences on the loss of your husband,” he says first. “I knew the prince consort briefly, but all I heard were great things.”

You sigh. “Thank you, Lord Stark. I’m glad we could see you. Even if it is at the banquet,” you say bluntly.

Cregan’s serious expression breaks as he smiles. “Yes well, there was a storm that damaged our ship, and when we changed to a carriage our carriage broke a wheel. It’s been quite a hectic ride.”

You blink and look at him with worry. “Oh! Is everyone fine?” You ask and step forward.

Cregan nods. “Yes, yes, we’re all fine. Thank the gods.”

You hum and glance at the lady with dark brown hair. Cregan follows your line of gaze and grabs her arm. “This is my youngest daughter Mariah Stark.”

The girl curtsy and when she stands up you offer her a sweet smile. “Ah, you have your father's grey eyes. Very beautiful.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” she mumbles.

You nod and meet Cregan’s gaze again. “It’s nice to see you, old friend. It’s been…years.”

Cregan nods and his eyes soften, catching those around you off guard that this cold and serious man was looking so gentle. “Ten,” he clarifies. “Ten years. But I’m here now and I hope we get to reacquaint ourselves during my stay.”

You grin and nod eagerly. “Yes, that would be great. Now,” you trail off and grin wider. “Meet my children!” You walk over to the group of kids watching from a distance. “I’ll start with who I see first, there’s a lot.” You laugh.

And of course, Laenor pushes himself to the front, so you start with him. “Cregan, this is Laenor,”

Said man feigns a cough so you correct yourself. “Sorry, Ser Laenor. He’s a knight.”

Laenor flashes Cregan a grin and then glances at his daughter to offer her a flirty smile. And right away you notice that the girl blushes at the charming tactics of your son. But she’s not the only one, since he’s the only prince who’s a bachelor, many young ladies have been swooning over him and giving him their sympathies in hope he’d return their affections. But they’ll find that their brothers or their household guards will gain his affection a lot quicker than them. He just likes to tease women.

“…and this,” you move on to point to the man next to Laenor. “This is Rhaegar, my youngest.” You grab his shoulder and give it a tight squeeze.

Rhaegar glances at you and then offers Cregan a more nervous smile, letting you move on to the next person and feeling him feel grateful for it with the way his shoulders untense.

“Next to him is my niece and his betrothed, Lady Valeria Hightower, daughter of my cousin, the Lady Rhaena.”

Cregan bows his head and then glances back at one of his men. When they approach you see him holding a bouquet of blue winter roses.

“Thank the gods these survived our trip,” he says and plucks one from the bouquet to hand it to Valeria.

“Oh! This is beautiful,” Valeria gushes. “Thank you, my Lord.” She curtsies and then turns to Rhaegar to show him the pretty rose.

“This is Lady Laena Velaryon, daughter of my cousin Lady Baela, wife of my Maekor, and future Queen.” You grin.

Cregan bows his head and once again he plucks a rose from the bouquet. She’s more timid than Valeria though, so her response is softer. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

“It's an honor to make your acquaintance, my Lady,” he interjects. “And future Queen.”

Laena smiles and gently bows her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, the Queen speaks fondly of you.” She reveals.

Oh.

Cregan smirks. “Does she now? I should hope so.”

You avert your gaze and move on to the next person so he won't get any more smug. “And you know my Maekor, my heir.”

Cregan once again bows. “My Prince.” Cregan greets.

Maekor offers him a small bow and a gentle smile. “Lord Stark. It’s a pleasure seeing you again, the last time I saw you—”

“You were a little lad,” Cregan cuts him off. “With your front teeth missing.” He chuckles. “You’ve grown, my Prince. And I hear you have sons of your own too.”

You beam proudly, and Maekor nods.

“Yes, I do, Jacaerys and Jaehaerys,” your son reveals.

“It’s quite a change,” Cregan says. “You make me feel old.”

“That’s because you are,” you quip

“Likewise.” He counters, making you feign a laugh before you move and point to the tall skinny man next to Maekor. “You probably know him. Lord Ellis Blackwood, son of Lord Benjicot Blackwood.”

Cregan nods. “Yes, we’ve met. I hear a congratulations are in order, my lord, I hear you're expecting your first child.”

Ellis grins brightly and nods before glancing at Valaena. “Yes, twins the maester says.”

Cregan glances at your daughter and offers her a smile. “Congratulations Princess, I’m sure the gods will grant you healthy babes.” He then turns and plucks three roses from the bouquet. “For you and your children.”

Valaena gently takes the roses and brings them up to her nose to smell them, causing a sweet smile to grow on her lips. “Thank you, my Lord, you are very kind.”

Cregan bows his head and now you move on to your last two. “Now, you know…” you trail off as Aerion is gone from the line. “Oh, well here’s Daenerys.”

Cregan stops in front of Daenerys and his smile softens. “Princess,” he greets softly and studies her face.

Daenerys doesn’t know the man before her is her actual father, you couldn’t risk it, so it will always be a secret between Cregan and you.

“Lord Stark,” she greets without as much emotion.

Cregan lingers there before he grabs one winter rose and hands it to her. “It goes with your hair well,” he says, making her giggle.

“It does, thank you.” She then looks at you and smiles.

“Father,” Cregan’s daughter cuts in. “Look they have my favorite, come with me.”

Cregan blinks and then glances at you. “And the rest are for you,” he says and grabs the rest of the winter roses to give you the bouquet. “I’m sorry for your loss, again. We’ll talk later. Yes?”

You smile softly and nod. “Yes. And Lord Stark.” You proceed to approach him and talk quieter. “Join us tomorrow for breakfast. The whole of my family will be there, and I want you to be there as well.”

Cregan holds your gaze with a smile and doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I’ll be there.”

You grin wider and nod in comprehension. “Good,” you whisper and feel your heart skip a beat once again.

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

#fanfiction #damn-stark #moonlight #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfiction #Cregan stark #Cregan stark fanfiction #Cregan stark x fem!reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #Cregan stark x Velaryon!reader #aegon iii targaryen #viserys ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond Targaryen fanfiction

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thewriterwithnoplan · 3 months

Text

THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

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

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.”

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen

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mystcldydrms · 1 month

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you're rhaenyra's daughter. ever since birth, your future has been laid out for you. everything has been planned out. your betrothal to aemond had been finalised as soon as the two of you could walk. he has been a dear friend to you your whole life, although he had attacked your brother when he was younger. you have always been looking forward to your and aemond's wedding. but now everything has changed. the news that your betrothed had killed your brother tore you apart. there was no desire in yourself left to still get married to him. the only thing left inside of you was hate and rage. you confided in your mother, knowing she would be on your side. she immediately called off the betrothal, but unbeknownst to you, she already had another man in mind for you to marry. and it was none other than cregan stark.

this idea came to my mind today, and I'm not sure, but I feel like I'd love to write it. I just don't know if I can do it justice, but let me know what you think of it.

#hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #cregan stark imagine #aemond targaryen blurb #cregan stark blurb #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen headcanon #cregan stark headcanon

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vincentsambershades · 8 months

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How not to tame a dragon

Cregan Stark x Targ!fem!reader

Summary: when Cregan Stark informs his Targaryen bride that she cannot bring her mount with her to Dorne, all hell breaks loose.

(I usually avoid writing since English is not my native language (be warned). I was, however, inspired by some hotd-fics from my favourite creators and wanted to write something fun, about our favourite northern man, mister cregan, which I'm actually pretty proud of. So here it goes.)

Word count: 2.5k-2.6k

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, fingering, p in v, tiny bit of breeding kink, flufffffff

When Cregan Stark was first presented with the young Targaryen princess he didn't fail to notice the fire that erupted from within her. A fire caused by her close attachment to her dragon. Her Cannibal, albeit frightening, had served the both of them well enough after their wedding. And even though Cregan was hesitant to ride on dragonback, his wife had charmed him in doing so relatively early in their marriage.

In spite of how much Cregan admired the beast, as well as the bond between his bride and her mount, there were moments when he wished he hadn't been married to a Dragonrider.

The princess was used to roaming Westeros with her loyal travel companion. Therefore, when the time had come for the newly wed couple to head to Dorne, in order to manage 'certain financial and commercial matters', as her husband had called them, Cregan prevented her from bringing her beloved dragon along. He insisted that a dragon, despite being a sign of force and power, would create an intimidating environment that would leave no room for impartial negotiation. He was right of course, as always, but the wrath of the dragon was easy to provoke.

"Cannibal is coming with us to Dorne! The cold of the North is no good for him! The heat will soothe him!" she was red in the face and as terrifying as the wild thing she had managed to tame.

"My love, you know we cannot travel with a dragon to Dorne, bringing your beast along will only serve as provocation which we cannot afford!" said Cregan only fuelling his wife's fury.

"This is outrageous!" she looked almost as if she intended to feed him to the dragon.

No direwolf would ever be able to save him from that fate.

She didn't speak to him for at least two weeks after that.

Around that time, their journey to Dorne began.

After long hours of travelling, as night was setting, time had come for them to rest and as Cregan helped his men set out camp for the night, his wife was taking a stroll near the frozen river. She was wrapped in more furs than he could count and looked as if she would tumble over from their weight any moment now.

She would appear comical had it not been for that sour expression on her face.

Separating her from her dragon seemed to toll on her more and more as the days passed. Her denial to exchange more words with him, other than 'Good Morrow' and occasionally 'Good night', didn't seem to improve her mood either.

It didn't matter to her that she missed him. The princess wanted for her husband to be the first, out of the two, to break. She wanted for him to seek her out, chase her and claim her all over again.

Cregan needed her too. He had always known that half her heart belonged to her dragon. That was what happened with all Targaryens.

He had come to terms with that.

Yet, there were moments, like this when the mere view of his beautiful wife had him hoping that he owned at least some part of her heart.

He felt silly. He knew that their marriage was a political arrangement. Her father had established that when the match was made. However, Cregan couldn't help but feel lucky to have found a match in the princess, their chemistry was undeniable and their times together were filled with all the passion other political marriages lacked. There was mutual understanding in their marriage.

Cregan shook these thoughts and concentrated on the task ahead. So called traders from Dorne had been entering his borders and tormenting villages on his coastlines. Of course, the Lord had tried to diplomatically remove them from his land but when the situation became unbearable and his ambassadors came back empty handed, he knew it was time for a formal visit to the far South. He had been tempted to use his wife's creature in order to intimidate them, but the thought of causing further commotion, when the throne was so vulnerable, prevented him from doing so. For a Stark, Cregan's will to maintain the peace was greater than his thirst for battle.

Cregan was lost in his thoughts as the men sat around the fire, passing around carafes of ale to warm them during the cold night. It took his companions quite a bit of convincing, but he finally accepted to take a swing.

"To keep you warm, Lord." insisted the man who was sitting on his right. Cregan took the carafe, offering the man a grateful smile, and drank generously.

Instead of downing more, he wrapped his coat tighter around him and relaxed while watching the flames. Cregan managed to lose himself in the moment. He didn't know what it was, the easy atmosphere or his companions' laughter, but something warm bloomed in his chest. How he had missed travelling. Roaming the North with his friends as the moonlight illuminated them.

It felt even better this time. Because in this particular occasion, he had her to share it with. His stubborn little wife. His fierce dragon rider.

And that was when it hit him.

Cregan realised he hadn't seen her in more than an hour. The last time his eyes had fallen on her, she was wandering around, kicking the snow with her feet. He didn't think she had headed for the woods, he knew she wasn't that careless. Before they began their journey he had, after all, made sure to inform her of all the dangers they might come across, wolves, bears and other animals humans shouldn't meddle with. Therefore, she had to be in their shared tent.

"What is it Lord?" the man turned to him again. Cregan attempted to hide the worry off his voice.

"Have you seen my Lady around?"

"I fear I haven't, Lord, she must be resting." offered the man with a toothy grin that did nothing to ease Cregan's worry.

Cregan rose to his feet swiftly, turning on his heels and heading to the tent where he found nothing but an untouched bed and a trunk he himself had placed there. He exited the narrow space, searching for any sign of his wife. His vision, despite being acute, served him little in the moment and the full moon, albeit helpful, didn't shine enough light upon the heavy snow. His mind ran several miles an hour, considering all the possible paths the princess could've taken. He began his search without being in control of where his feet took him until he reached the river. He looked for footprints but found none. Even if she had taken that route, the fresh snow would've covered her tracks.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by a crack on the ice that had gathered at the edges of the river. The sound of the rapture was followed by a splash in the cold water and a womanly scream, one that undoubtedly belonged to his wife.

He followed the direction of the sound only to be met with the sight of the princess' attempt at defying the coldness of the river and swimming to the surface. Without second thought, Cregan rid himself of his fur coat, keeping on his less warm leather attire. He placed the heavy coat to the side and got in the freezing water aiming for his wife. She was easy to identify, even in the dim moonlight, and so he reached for her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her out, letting her limp body rest against the snow covered ground but only long enough for him to pull his dry furs on top of her soaked ones. After she was securely wrapped in them, he carried her unconscious back to the untouched bed he had prepared for her.

"You stupid girl..." he scolded her while peeling her clothes off and leaving them near the fire to dry. Despite being close to the fire and covered in all the blankets Cregan could find, she was still shivering. "The blood of the dragon is not enough to keep you warm after all..." she had awakened during this time and was aware of everything he threw at her.

Had she been in her senses, she would've jumped at him for daring to question the fire in her veins. But she was weak and defeated as she watched him pull his own clothes off.

He knew there was only one way to warm her up fast and that was body heat. And no matter how mad she had been at him for the past two weeks, she couldn't help but feel grateful as he covered himself in the blankets and pulled her to him. His arms found their place around her waist and she buried her face in the crook of his neck inhaling the manly scent of him. He started running his fingers up her back, all the way to her damp hair, and down again, just above her rear. He grabbed her thigh, hiking her leg over his hip and drawing her closer. His fingers found her front and caressed the skin below her bellybutton, tentatively delving lower. She heaved a sigh, her now hot breath hitting his neck as he let his urges overtake him.

His hand found its place between her thighs. She was warm there. Warm and soft. He dipped his fingers in her delicate folds, finding her oversensitive bud and circling it. They hadn't coupled in a while and his desire for her was driving him crazy.

"Cr-Cregan..." she whimpered and for a moment he thought she was hesitant. That thought, however, didn't plague him for long. When he pulled away to look at her face, to search for a negative reaction, he saw her pouty lips regaining their colour and her eyes reddened with unshed tears and clouded with want, pleading for him to finally touch her.

"Please, please, please-" as much as he usually enjoyed her begging him to take her, he was quick to stop her whimpering by capturing her lips in a kiss. His lips felt hot against hers and as he replaced his index finger with his thumb on her pearl, reaching lower and teasing her entrance, she gasped offering him the perfect chance to deepen the kiss. His fingers felt heavenly inside her, pumping in and out of her always hitting the rough spot that Cregan knew made her see stars.

Even with his fingers inside her and his length, brushing against her lower stomach, the kiss was his personal way of reclaiming her, swallowing her whole.

She reached her smaller hand between their bodies, taking him in her hand and stroking him as he sat hot and heavy in her palm.

She pulled away and her slack expression, lust filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips could have made him peak at that instant.

"I want you inside of me, now." she stated and how could he refuse her. Especially when she looked so eager, practically begging him to fill her.

He was quick to pull his fingers out of her, leaving her with an empty feeling. She didn't complain though, not when the sight of him getting on top of her and settling between her thighs had rendered her speechless.

He lowered his hips, reaching between his legs to tease her with his tip before entering her in one forceful thrust. She let out a yelp and choked out a moan.

The feeling of him long and thick, stretching her out after weeks of refusing him couldn't compare to anything.

Except, perhaps, for the feeling of her, wet and warm and tight, around her husband. Cregan swore there was no other woman besides his wife that felt so perfect.

Her tears, from how intense their lovemaking was, had Cregan remembering their first time together, right after their wedding feast when he had her lay on silk sheets, broken her maidenhead and molded her to him.

"Cregan I need to-need to-" she tried to say while Cregan delivered licks and bites to the sensitive skin of her neck.

"What do you need, my girl?" he thrust in her hard and fast, the way she liked it as his lips landed on her breast, sucking lovemarks and taking her nipple in his mouth, making her moan loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"I n-need to peak, please!" she managed and who was he to deny her wishes. He led his fingers to her pearl, rubbing it while hitting her sweet spot.

"Suck a good girl for me, begging me for her peak. Do it, I want to feel you come apart on my cock" he commanded her and not long after that her climax hit her. She held onto him, her nails digging into his biceps as he kept his unrelenting pace. His murmurs of 'that's it' and 'good girl' were muffled by her hair. Endless mantras of his name left her lips as she rode out her orgasm, her hips moving involuntarily against his own.

"Do you want me to spill in you, uh, my love?" he asked almost mockingly as his thrusts grew uneven, a sign he was close.

"Sp-spill in me Cregan!" she yelped as he continued to abuse her insides. Her husband groaned at her lustful pleas, grabbing her face and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I will, sweet girl. I will spill in you, make you round with my pup. You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cregan came apart with a satisfied moan, his warmth filling her and then running down her thighs as he grew soft and pulled out.

He didn't leave her side after that. He laid beside her, instead of on top of her, and pulled her to him. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to regain her breath and Cregan placed reassuring kisses to her forehead.

After a few moments of utter silence, he heard her sniffle and mutter something against his throat. He soon came to realise she was apologizing. He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she had to apologize for.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you for two weeks, it was stupid and immature of me and I'm so so-" he silenced her with a kiss to which she responded quickly.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Her expression was hopeful. "I understand what it is like to be parted from something or someone you've truly set your heart to. That's what staying away from you felt like" she gave him a nod before letting his words truly set in. Her confusion painted her face a scarlet red and her anticipation was later imprinted in her voice.

"What are you saying?" she questioned and he sighed softly, cupping her cheek and wholly giving into her.

"I love you infinitely, my fierce dragon princess. And you needn't say it back. Not unless it's your truth." a weak smile formed on her lips.

"I love you too, have loved since I married you, before that even." her cries ceased. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, inviting him to her. "I love you my wild man from the North, my wolf." he laughed at that, an honest heartfelt laugh, the vibrations of which she felt against her own chest, and proceeded to kiss her.

Cregan kissed his dragon princess like his life depended on it.

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #cregan stark smut #house targaryen #house stark #cregan imagine #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #my writing

736 notes · View notes

gtgbabie0 · 2 months

Text

-Cregan Stark x Reader

{You learn that your husband is a very affectionate drunk}

I’m so back… Enjoy my lovelies! 💕

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Northern men know how to drink, it’s something you learned from first-hand experience on the night of your wedding. How the lords and ladies danced and drank together throughout the night, slurring their words and spilling their ale.

Today was no different, a celebration for your husband's name day that has been going on since the sun had started to rise. You couldn’t complain about it, it was nice to see Cregan not overwhelmed with his duties.

The dining hall is dimly lit with candles that are littered everywhere, the white wax melts in clumps on the wooden tables that are stained with ale and wine. You notice how much calmer the atmosphere seems to be, now that the evening has approached, as you lean back into your chair.

Most of the guests had taken their leave by now and only a few Lords and Ladies remain, and even their faces were visibly exhausted. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you glance over to Cregan, who is already looking at you with soft, glossed-over eyes.

“You look beautiful” he whispers, his words are slurred from his drunken state, but they still carry so much honesty and love that it melts you.

The smile that teeters on your lips is uncontrollable and it only makes Cregan admire you even more. He leans back in his chair whilst he drinks the sight of you in with hungry eyes.

You rest your hand over Cregans as he squeezes your thigh gently. “Have you had a good day?” You ask as he nods his head, his big hand caressing your thigh lazily.

“The best… thanks to you my lady” he says with a soft chuckle at the way you give him an almost shy smile. He can’t help but adore everything about you… you’re beyond perfect, 'a gift from the gods' as Cregan always says.

“I’m glad, though, perhaps it is time to call it a day now?” You tell him as you take his calloused hand within yours. He hums in agreement as his thumb soothes against your palm.

Getting him back to your shared bedchambers was a very humorous challenge. You were practically dragging him along as he leaned onto you for support, his hands soothing against your hips and waist whilst you guided him through the cold halls of the Winterfell castle.

The fireplace warms your bedchambers, bathing the cosy room in a soft light, as it crackles and pops. Cregan watches you take off your jewellery before changing into your nightgown with a soft smirk, his eyes gleaming with fondness.

“Gods, look at you… an absolute goddess” he says, his raspy voice just above a whisper. He wastes no time in approaching you clumsily, his hands grasping needly on your body as he tugs you closer to him.

The giggle that escapes you leaves Cregan breathless and it certainly doesn’t help when your fingers begin to brush through his hair as you stand between his legs. He looks up at you with a smile as you cup his face gently… he simply can not get enough of you.

“You should sleep,” you tell him softly knowing how awful his morning fog will be. He shakes his head softly as he rests against your stomach, his hand still grasping at your hips.

“Not before I thank you properly… my queen” His tone is teasing as he lets out a soft chuckle at the way you gasp.

“Shh… your words are dangerously close to treason” you whisper softly as your hand moves to clasp over his mouth, you look down at him with an almost shy smile.

"My words will only be treason if someone hears them... and we are alone." He pulls your hand away from his mouth, his fingers caressing your wrist. The way you look when he praises you makes him crazy. Your eyes, your smile, you are beautiful.

He hugs you close, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "But you are my queen. You rule over my heart. No one could ever take that place from you."

The honesty and love that are woven within his each and every word takes you back, your expression softens and your eyes start to well up with tears. It’s an overwhelming feeling that warms your chest and makes your skin tingle.

You take a seat on the bed beside him with a soft sigh. His thumb wipes away your tears as he presses another kiss to your cheek. “Don’t cry… you’re far too pretty for that” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

A bright smile teeters on his lips at the sound of your precious laughter, he brushes your hair behind your ears before pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you, Cregan.” The words feel so natural and he absolutely relishes in the way you say it. He buries his face into the crook of your neck with a boyish smile.

“I love you too… my queen” he replies, his tone heavy with exhaustion as the alcohol starts to weigh on him however that doesn’t stop him from pressing lazy kisses all over your face, his hands soothing against your hips and waist whilst he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

Cregan will soon find sleep, with his arms wrapped around you and his face buried into your neck. You’ll have to tease him tomorrow about how much of an affectionate drunk he is.

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misguidedasgardian · 6 months

Text

The Hour of the Wolf (4)

IV. It is you

MASTERLIST

Summary: Pressures makes wind, earthquakes, and marriages

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon,

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Notes: I don;t think this is going to be a love story, this is about politics, and a truly arranged marriage, their relationship will develop of course, but I just wanted to get that out there

“You have done a great job with her”, Cregan raised his eyes to encounter the mythical Jeyne Arryn, cousin to the late Queen Aemma, keeper of the East, Lady of the Eyrie, they both contemplated you as you sat the Iron Throne and gave audiences

“I have done nothing, it’s all her”, he said severely

“You are good with her, for her”, she said then, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes

“I know what you are implying…”

“She needs a husband”, she said

“You should stay here in court, as her hand when I leave”, he said almost at the same time

“You can’t leave her”

“I have to, I have a child…”

“She needs you, the realm needs you”

“The North needs me, she will be fine”

“You know that is not true, she is still too young to differ allies from foes”

“She will learn”

“At the cost of the realms”, Cregan Stark looked at her severely, but he had met her equal, this woman was not going to back down

“What about my son? What about my people? How is that going to work?”, he asked then

“You can come and go”

“A year at a time”

“Maybe”, she said. The small council had been relentless, just as Jeyne was being

His name was in that alliance

He pledged to take you to wife, you, in name, regardless of who you had become… you were his betrothed. And it’s not like he gave his word lightly, only, like he said, he need a wife and a lady of Winterfell, he did not want to become the King consort of the Seven Kingdoms, he did not want to take care of you… forever…

But he had taken the capital for you

Yes he promised your mother…

But he had done it for you, an unknown princess, on his mind

He found himself looking straight at you

Like the first time he saw you, he thought, again, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Since he took the capital, color had returned to your face, you no longer had darkness under your eyes, your cheeks were fuller, you also filled your dresses more, meaning you were eating more, sleeping longer…

You were better

His eyes then trailed over all the faces of the Lords gathered there in the throne room, lickspittles, asskissers, many of them, without honor, just hunger for power and gold

Did he really care for what happens to the people of the other six Kingdoms? Were you really in danger? Kings had been surrounded by traitors all their lives and nothing major had happened…

Well… until Otto fucking Hightower

No, he couldn’t let that happen again

He thought he only wanted to bring justice to the traitors, but it wasn’t true, he cared about what happened

He cared about what happens to you…

The realization made him shift on his feet

He cared about you

He did not want you to get married to someone who was going to please the small council and take your place eventually, who was going to manipulate you or worse

He didn’t want you married to someone who…

No… he just didn’t want you married to anyone else… that’s it

The bare thought made him shiver

You felt yourself being watched intensely, and found Cregan Stark’s eyes

You felt your cheeks heated, as you looked away like a little girl who had been caught doing something silly

You were only a young woman, barely turned eight and ten name days

And Cregan was only a young man who had the power of the biggest country in the seven kingdoms and wanted to use it to avenge his Queen

He was himself impulsive, reckless even, maybe the rest saw him like the greatest choice, but he knew the truth

He wasn’t

What if he tipped you off a ledge? What if he sets you off resulting in the destruction of cities and the annihilation of thousands?

And yet…. He was the only one you trusted

Months on the road, maybe years away from you, years away from his home, his child… There must always be a Stark in Winterfell

But when he leaves you to be in Winterfell, he was going to wish he was in King’s Landing, and when he is here, he wishes he could be in Winterfell, he was already missing it, he wanted to see his son, his five year old son, he had left him in good hands, with his loving half sister, and trusted friends and servants… but still

He was so small, he had it when he was so young, the only thing he had left of his dear friend Arra

If he married you… if…

He was going to give you children, his child, second child, was going to sit the Iron Throne one day… and his oldest was going to be Lord of Winterfell

That was… enticing, to say the least

Too good to be true….

Having children with you, a thought that enticed and scared him in equal measure

A child of Ice and Fire, a child who was going to be a Northerner by blood and a dragon rider as well…

He shifted on his feet again

He wanted it

And he could pretend he had a choice all he wanted, but he didn’t… he had signed the pact… the woman… the Queen seated in the Iron Throne…

Was his betrothed

It didn’t have to be two months, a week long boat ride to White harbor and another week on the road and he could be home quickly…

It had to work

Did you want this?

He gave you the service of ending the courts early, and then you abandoned the throne room.

But before he could reach you, he was intercepted by Celtigar

“I need to talk to you”, he said, Cregan only nodded as they walked together to a hallway of the Keep which seemed to be empty

“What is it?” He asked, his patience long gone

“I can marry her”, he said quickly

Cregan stopped in his tracks, and frowned

“You trust me, don’t you?”, he asked when he saw his face

“yes, but…”

“I can get you out of the pact… if she is the one to accept”

He should be relieved, he should have said yes immediately, but the thought of you marrying someone else… he didn’t like it.

Not that he didn’t trust his friend, he did, he was the best choice according to him, the day before he had offered himself, the thing is… he had changed in the last 24 hours…

He wanted it, you, the seat at your side, the children you were going to give him…

But he wouldn’t even accept it himself, this was deep inside of him, he wanted to protect you, none of those southerners had what it took, only him, he didn’t trust anyone else, not really

Only him…

“My name is in those papers”, he growled

“But perhaps if I speak to her, began to court her…”

“I’ll talk to her”, he cut him

“I really think I should be the one…”, with only one look Cregan makes his friend stop speaking. He had just realized what he truly wanted to do, and he did not need to be contradicted now. “You are marrying her, aren’t you?”, he said, a smile sneaking on his friend’s face

“I don’t know yet, I don’t want to pressure her”, Celtigar only hummed

“I want to marry her too”, he said then. Cregan looked at his friend and he understood him, he was challenging him…

“May the best man win her affections then”, Cregan said.

He was not going to lose

And as he walked away Celtigar only smiled, having pushed his friend in the right direction by only pretending to want your hand in marriage

Cregan had asked Lord Redwyne for help and together they had set you up with young ladies, that shared your age, your ladies in waiting as it were. But instead he found you alone in the Red Keep garden, walking and escorted by one of your white cloaks

“What happened with your ladies in waiting?”, he asked point blank as he approached you, the lack of property, referring to you not as “your grace”, and it made your guard almost wince

“I send them on their way”, you said simply, leaning in to smell a beautiful flower, barely acknowledging him

“I don’t want you to be lonely”, he said gently, you raised your eyes to look at him

“yes, I know but they are so… vain… “this lord looked at me”, or “have you seen the dress she was wearing…”, Cregan only smiled condescendingly at you, “and I…”

“You are thinking about the wellness of millions”, he said, “concerned about the future of the entire realm, I understand”

“I understand the need to be distracted for a while, but…”, he only nodded

“I understand”, he said shortly

“Why are you here?”, you asked, nervous, he didn’t understand the change in your dynamic, you had felt confident and calm enough to cry in front of him, but now you were evading his gaze, and shifting in your feet in nerves

In your mind was a bit more clearer

You realized you liked him, you found yourself feeling butterflies in your belly when you saw his handsome face, and you wanted to punch yourself, for being so childish, you were not a young girl in front of her knight in shining armor, you were a Queen now, he was your hand, your advisor, and the head of one of the most important houses on the entire realm.

But you felt your legs shake, and your breath caught in your throat every time you saw him approach you

And every time he was near, you wanted him to stay near you, you felt your chest strangle your heart each time he walked away from you.

Gods this was strange even for you

“I want to ask you something”, he said slowly, you looked at him then, concerned

“You are leaving”, you said.

You were not an idiot, you knew he had a son, he was the Lord of Winterfell, he needed to rule his home. You couldn’t expect of him to stay here forever

That took him by surprise

“No”, he said softly

“But you have to go one day, don’t you?”

“That is what I wanted to talk about”, he said softly, your attention was on him then, you tried to pull on those dark feelings that would make you mad at him when he did decided to leave, he could not see that wide-eyed little girl who had a crush on him, not now, and you will not beg when he tells you it was going to be time for him to return home…

“... the marriage offers”, you were lost for a second but that certainly brought you back to attention

“Uh?”, you asked

“You had been offered several hands of many lords over these past few days”

“Did the small council put you up to this?”, you asked, bored

“You need to get married”, he said severely, “we need to make your family strong again, you need to settle your line…”

“I understand”, you said, looking down. You knew he had signed a pact to marry you, but you also did not want to hold him to it, there were different times, it was naive for you to think he was going to hold up his part, he had done enough already

“A marriage is also an alliance”, he continued, “you need someone who will help you and guide you, but not manipulate you…”

You only nodded

“A strong person, with a powerful family name…”

“If you say Tyland Lannister I swear…”, he chuckled, and shook his head

“No…”, he said. He then stopped all his movements, you felt his gaze on you, so you stopped as well and raised your head and eyes to look at him, “who do you want?”, he asked then

“I’m not sure”, you said, but you did… you wanted him

For the doubt in your mind made him question his own decision. He thought you were going to name him, but you were truly doubtful

You didn’t think he was an option

“I don’t know any of those men”, you said then in a whisper

“You know some…”, he tried, you looked at him

He felt even guilty for wanting it

He gave in to his deepest desire, of power and lust.

“Yes you are right”, you whispered, looking away from him again, “I just…. need to think this through”, you said with a low voice, you wanted to end this chat

But he didn’t, he needed you to say it

He had heard the small council ask him to, he had heard Lady Jayne Arryn… but he needed to hear it from you.

“There must be someone in your mind”, he said softly, with a gentle, soothing voice

“There was”, you admitted

“Talk to me, I’m your hand”, he continued, “I am here to advice you”

“Until you leave me”, you say then, without thinking, it was barely a whisper

So that’s it, he thought, you resented him for even the mere thought of him abandoning you

“I can come back”, he said then, with a hint of amusement on his voice

You only hummed, you didn’t believe him, and you were going to feel terribly lost without him, again, alone, like you had been before he saved you…. before he took the city in your name and put you on the throne

He did all of that

There was nobody else you wanted by your side but him

You shared a longing look, a long gaze

What did he want? you asked yourself. He looked like he wanted to listen to you but also to speak, at the same time. You didn’t know what else to say

“What does that mean?”, you asked then. He sighed, loudly

“I signed a pact…”, he said

“Yes, my brother offered my hand in marriage in exchange for your allegiance and your swords”, you said lowly

“No”, he answered back, you looked at him intently, “he asked for my loyalty, he had it already, but he negotiated our union for the simple fact he was scared of something befalling you, he wanted to send you North under my protection to keep you safe from harm, from the war, and from the Greens”

Ah yes, safe from Aemond and Aegon

“That sounds like my brother”, you said, melancholy tainting your voice

“He wanted to keep you safe”

“In more than one way you had kept your promise”, you assured him, “you took the city, took control…”

“I did”, he said softly, “for you”

“You are going to put a crown in my head”, you said

“In three days”, he said then, “and then you should announced your betrothal”

“I don’t have one”

“You do”, he said finally, his eyes, piercing eyes bore into yours, he dwarfed you in size, and even though he had left his fur cloak behind… he still look big and imposing

“Cregan…”, you called

“Say it”, he encouraged

“You signed the pact…”, you said.

As you looked at him, you grew angry

What did he want from you? to beg? you didn’t even know. He had signed that past, to marry you one day, and yet, he dodged that part at every turn, he needed to return home, you understood that he had a son, a little boy who needed his father, so why was he here? talking to you in this way?

“You promised to marry me”, you said softly, he barely nodded, his eyes looking intently at you, “but I understand…”, he frowned then, and you started walking away from him. Letting him standing in the garden

You called in a small council meeting, on your own accord

They were right, you needed to make your family bigger and stronger…

“I called in this meeting because I have to make a demand”, you said firmly, your small council looking amongst each other, Cregan was silent, playing with the dragon eye in front of him

“Tomorrow the Barahteon will present themselves to me, and I want to tell you my intentions so you’ll be prepared”, you said firmly, “It is to my understanding that princess Jahaera, daughter of Aegon the Usurper, is still in Storm’s End…”

“As a guest”, said lord Lannister

“As a hostage”, you said then, “It is to my understanding that she was on her way here, when Aegon was poisoned”, you said softly, “I know because it was discussed at the dinner table in front of me, yet, she is not here, I understand they are trying to keep her safe as some sort of leverage, but…”, you continued, and then you soften your gaze, “I want her here, she is a little girl, a Targaryen, daughter to my lovely aunt Helaena, and she should be with me and Aegon, with family”, you said softly

“Your grace is most graceful”, muttered the Maester, the others murmured their affirmations

“Tomorrow I will demand of the Baratheons to bring little Jahaera back to me, when she is here, we will betrothed her to Aegon, to finally solidify the family and end this madness”, yous aid with a soft smile

Aemond, Aegon, Alicent and Otto are and will burn in hell

But not Helaena and her children

She was an angel, so were the little boys that lost her lives

Jahaera was the only one left, you owe it to Helaena to keep her safe

After the affirmation and support of your small council, you walked towards your little brother’s chambers

He had become so quiet and sad, which was expected, but still, you tried to keep his mind busy, you would put Septas and maesters to teach him and accompany him, at all ours, soon, one of your King’s guards will teach him the art of the sword.

Now you make sure to sit and dine with him

Even though he barely spoke

“Jahaera will come to court soon”, you whispered to him as you served yourself a cup of wine

“Who was Jahaera?”, he asked innocently, of course he didn’t remember

“Helaena’s child”, you said, “she is your age, you can have fun together”

“Oh”, it's the only thing he said, while continue to have little pieces of bread and meat

“Maybe one day you can get married”, you said lightly

“When are you getting married?”, he asked then and made you laugh

“Soon, but I don’t know with whom!”, you said as it was a joke, it was sad that it was true

“Marry Cregan”, he said simply

“WHy?”, you asked him, amazed

“I see the way he looks at you”, he said simply

“How does he look at me?”, you asked him

“As papa looked at mama”, he said, and you got quiet

“He has to go back North”, yous aid lightly

“You can command him to stay, you are the Queen”, he said, still not looking at you

“If I only command without listening to reason I’m a Tyrant”, you said softly, “not a queen”

“He wants to stay”, he said

“I don’t know if he does, you know Northerners don’t fare well here in the south”, you joked

“Command him”, he insisted

“Aren’t you a little tyrant?”, you teased, reaching over the table and tickling his side until he squealed in a laugh

But gods if that made you think…

“He looks at you they way papa looked at mama”

Daemon Targaryen wasn’t much of a communicative man, he didn’t need to speak, it was all in his eyes…

He could make men tremble with just his gaze, he could make his children giggle with a wink, and he could make your mother swoon with that sparkle in his eyes.

Even little Aegon could tell

Even if the nannies took control over your little brother, you were by his side until he fell asleep, and then you went to your own room

You served yourself a cup of wine, another cup of wine.

“Call in Lord Stark please”, you asked Eryk, and he nodded and went to fulfill your requirement

It was inappropriate, to say the least, to summon a man to your chambers at this late… but you needn't to worry about such matters… Or you did

Your brother was right, you were a Queen, you had to begin to act like one

Cregan foud you seated by the fire, in a relaxed stance, with a goblet of wine in your hand

“Your grace”, he greeted, he seemed serious, but you believed you found a glint in his eye… you were started to get to know him and his facial expressions, as cold as they may seem

“My Lord Hand”

“You will summon me and believe me, I will attend to your calling, but I must say, if someone sees me coming into your chambers at the hour of the owl, where we are going to be alone…”

“I’m aware”, you said, smiling at him

“What do you need?”, he asked gently, with a smirk on his lips

“Today in the garden…”, you started, “you mentioned the pact you sign”

“Yes I did”, he said

“Why?”, you asked him

“Why?”, he asked back

“Why would you bring it up?”, you asked again, “it seems that you do not intent to honor it”, he got quiet then, analyzing you

“I meant…”

“There is no one else…”, you said, “it is you”, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling. He softened his gaze

“Is that a command?”, he asked, amusement in his voice, it was like he was playing a game.

“Marry me”, you said, “honor the pact of Ice and Fire… you can come back home, on the condition of course that you come back…”

“To you”, he said

“To me”, you agreed. “Everyone will be at ease, well, except for the Hightowers, when you sit at my side in the throne…”, you said, he barely nodded, still smiling

“I don’t think so…”, he said finally, you stopped all your movements, was he rejecting you? he was not going to marry you? you had to command him, if he refused, you could fall through, you couldn’t make a man marry you… you started feeling ashamed of even summoning him here… you were starting to feel like an idiot

He turned his back to you and went to the small table in the corner and served himself a goblet of wine.

“I think they will feel threatened..”, he continued, you smiled then, taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “you and me together…”, he continued, taking a sip, “soon they’ll realize… the dragon and the wolf sat together… and they are all sheep”

You both smiled widely at each other

this is the vibe I was going for jajaja

Cregan is... complex... everyone wanted a tougher Cregan, i'm giving a gray one. He has ambitions, and wants power, and he is not indiferent to us, the beautiful young Queen... of what I read about Cregan, it is what I perceive... anyways... hope you like... maybe I moved it a bit too quickly but I want to get to the good part

taglist! ❤️

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@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos

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