𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓯

[hisoath]

ㅤㅤTHE WOLF OF THE NORTH . ㅤㅤindependent , private , && selective .

ㅤㅤ " Once a turncloak, ever a turncloak," Lord Cregan said. “You rose up in rebellion against your lawful queen and helped drive her from this city to her death, raised up your own squire in her place, then abandoned him to save your worthless hide. The realm will be a better place without you. "

ㅤㅤ #hisoath is a study in loyalty, decisiveness, and unwavering resolve. cregan stark of fire and blood / house of the dragon. based on canon materials and personal headcanons. mature content will be present. minors dni. ─── penned by 𝒹𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓈𝓊𝓈 

[tlkvikings]

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

"Aegon is grieving. He needs a friend, I think, and I don't know how to be his brother quite yet." A guilty conscience for that, for he does find his brother - should everyone be so truthful of his identity - to be strong, compelling, smart. Likely more deserving the title of heir than he is, given he is well known, aware of his heritage and with their mother alive? He is still named heir, though recovering from war injuries, so far as the realm is aware, he is told, but what should happen if he never recalls his past? Would they still leave the fate of the realm to a boy with no recollection other than an instinct, at least, for one specific dragon? It seems foolish and unlikely, despite his mother's hopes, his family's ideas that he will recall his past.

The implication is not lost on him, and he rolls his eyes - almost a reflex, which makes him second-guess it. So many reflexes that he is told are similar to who he was, who he could not recall, but he cannot help it. He would do his best to recall what he could, but the days passed swiftly, and nothing changed. He retained new memories, but old were simply locked behind a headache and a clearly well guarded door. Infuriating, but what he must deal with.

"So perhaps I should not allow you such liberties, then." Lighthearted, considering he does nothing to push himself away from how close they sit, how casually they touch. Or rather, how casually Cregan touches him, though he supposes he initiated it, the night prior, but he had been shocked, and tried to react appropriately. Once they were both finished with breaking their fast, he moves his chair back, creating some distance - he is still unsure, and more so now. It's confusing, complicated.

"Even though it hasn't helped much, I want to hear everything." For no story has given him recollection, beyond dreams that might continue them, that he thinks are more his own thoughts, and hopes to please those around him, than truth. "My mother would not have written to you if she did not think you knew something that might make me remember, right?"

The day is young, and he suspects that his recent duties - history, lessons, re-learning what he might have known before, as fascinating as it was, and as much as he did enjoy it - were now replaced, with another attempt to regain his lost life. There was already a light pounding resonating in his head, though he would do his best to ignore it. The headaches came with the attempts to get him to remember, when they were too forced, certainly. It didn't matter - he'd ignore it. "The boys were playing in the courtyard, but I think I might like to hear about Rickon, and maybe my time in the North, before I meet him again. Or we can leave that to another day." Jace is hardly a guide, barely knows the Red Keep, always surrounded by guards now, and has found little leeway, though more at night.

He almost wishes Cregan would have left his son in the North, one less person to disappoint, but who might? When the realm had just been in a turbulent civil war? But he was not a parent, and would never say such aloud. "What did I do in the North to make the other lords vow themselves to me and my mother? What did I do to make you do so?"

[hisoath]

"Give yourself some grace, my prince." How many times had he said that before? Jace was his own worst critic, and Cregan understood that better than most. When it was just the two of them, where titles mattered very little, Jace was still hard on himself. That trait would follow his lover for the rest of his days, quelled only when Cregan thoroughly distracted him. It was his goal to one day rid Jace of any sense of doubt. He was destined to rule the realm and there was no better candidate to sit upon the throne. Now his poor lover was only certain of his role and little else. What would happen if his memories never returned to him? Would Rhaenyra be comfortable allowing Jace to ascend the throne if he truly remembered nothing at all? Cregan had known that one day his dedication to Jace would disrupt the balance he had so carefully curated in Winterfell. Rickon was still too young to govern, but would one day assume control when Cregan abandoned her halls for King's Landing. Perhaps he could convince Rhaenyra to leave Jace in his care far away from the prying eyes of court. The bitter chill of Winterfell might have been exactly what the prince needed to refresh his memories. There were other possibilities, involving his mouth, roving hands, and nocturnal activities that could potentially work just as well. Cregan huffs. How could he think of such things when Jace couldn't even remember him properly? Yet he was a man with needs and since Jace had departed Winterfell he had taken no other lovers and never would now that his prince had returned to him.

Pushing away from the table, Cregan moves to stand. He offers a hand to Jace to take so he can guide them out of the outside of the hall. "I shall tell you of your first day in Winterfell, my prince. I'll do my best to recall every moment so that you might try to remember." Side by side they walk the halls of the Red Keep, inches apart but never touching. "You arrived upon Vermax during the last weeks of summer. It had been ages since a dragon had last visited Winterfell so it was quite the sight." He smiles at the thought, recalling watching Vermax descend from the heavens before touching down in front of the fortress. "It was I who greeted you, bowing before you and your mighty beast. I might be imagining this now, but you had blushed when I took your hand into mine so that I might kiss over your knuckles." His pinky brushes Jace reverently, savoring that millisecond of contact. "I thought you painfully beautiful which made up for how stiff you were." He teases, leading them to the gardens which now buzzed with life. Courtiers turned their heads to watch the unlikely pair stroll between planted flowers, manicured bushes, and articulate fountains. "I wonder now how you might have perceived me then. Being so bold, especially to a prince, could be dangerous. But I've never been one to shy away from danger."

[tlkvikings]

LEO SUTER as HARALD SIGURDSSON in VIKINGS: VALHALLA

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

Jacaerys. Even hearing it in jest, with a light heart causes him to roll his eyes a bit, though his back is to Cregan, after changing into the provided attire. Red, with some black accents, though not nearly as royally adorn as he would be otherwise, considering they were meant to be inconspicuous. He had a mask that had been provided by Cregan, loosely held in his hand. He was less excited about this venture than his companion, but he had little opportunity to outwardly make him happy, and this was one. It was a burden of royalty, how quiet they must be about all of it. He was far more subtle than his Hand, at least, though he would not deny Cregan these few indulgences. "I am ready, Cregan. I have been for some time. I still don't know if this is the best idea."

[hisoath]

Even in something as ordinary as plain clothes, Jacaerys cut a striking figure. He had all the mannerisms of a king and never faltered in his presentation. Cregan had quickly discovered that Jace never let that mask slip. He was one of the few people who had seen the king at his most vulnerable and felt for him. Which is why a night of fun would do his prince some good. It had taking a lot of convincing for Jace to abandon his royal duties for the night and let loose. Cregan had only won him over because he never asked for anything, existing solely to keep the North prosperous, and to serve his beloved. "You needn't worry about anything this evening." Cregan crosses the room, taking the mask Jacaerys held so he could lift it to the boy's face. "For tonight you are not King Jacaerys. You are simply Jace." Cregan muses, leaning in for a kiss. "We're going to have fun, I promise."

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

"Yes." The answer is succinct, short, as is his temper with this man now. He has no desire to remain in Winterfell, nor to return here again should he be able to escape. The idea that Winterfell might be where he dies has not escaped his mind, that if he is imprisoned because Cregan's words were lies, and he has truly allied with Aegon and his faction, it will end with his execution. He has resigned himself to that, although he has no plans to make it simple, to not re-iterate the lack of honor the Lord of Winterfell seems to possess, centuries of Starks never forgetting their oaths forgotten.

Jace hears his words, but they have little impact, considering the situation, and how many days have passed before he has decided to admit this truth, if it is that, and not simply deception. Jace lets him speak his piece, before using his hands to shove him back, though he knows it will give little leave. Physically, he is not unaware that Cregan, older and taller, is also stronger. He does slide away from him, using the limited space to get free. "The man I spent the last few weeks hunting and toasting with would have told me that truth the same day, not waited a further three after imprisoning me to even bother seeing me."

Escaping this specific trap was simple enough, but he knew the doors were barred, and guarded, should he manage to escape. "You don't get to touch me either, Lord Stark. If they have your son, you know the answer to get him back. You would have to kill me. Is that what they ask?"

He can sympathize, but it does not take away his anger, or his doubt. He still cannot be sure these words are true, when all the previous had been betrayed by his imprisonment. He does not want to stand close to Cregan Stark, does not want to hear his excuses. "If that is true, you should know I would have done what I could to help you. If you could not trust me, why should I now trust you?" Now that he has re-established some distance, he feels a bit more secure, not allow himself to be swayed by sympathy. He was brought here, locked in, so swiftly after being told about his brother's murder - it felt far too calculated to be coincidence. He cannot think otherwise, with how the news arrived, and then his current predicament. It was too perfectly timed.

"You received the news of my brother's murder and promptly imprisoned me. How am I meant to see it as anything less than you having already pledged to Aegon prior to my arrival? Would you not see it the same? If anything were to break the true Queen's resolve, it would be delivering her the news of the deaths of her children."

[hisoath]

He doesn't budge when the prince moves to shove him away. Cregan begins to reach for Jace but allows him to slip away. Beside the window he is aware of a faint breeze that guides cold air up and into the room. If it had been any larger Jace would have surely made his escape through it. He has spoken his truth, and speaking aloud would only put Rickon in danger. So Cregan remains rooted in place, watching Jace carefully. His prince would be angry with him for days to come, or maybe even months. He was deserving of the brunt of his anger and then some. Cregan had dishonored all that Starks held dear, but it had been necessary. If only he could make Jace see that. "I will not kill you." He finally moves from the window back to the chair where he had left Ice. "They might have my son, but I would never harm you." Cregan hadn't considered what he would do if Aegon carried through with his threat. He would see that man impaled by Ice, and left to bleed in the snow if he hurt as much as one hair upon Rickon's head. "In imprisoning you I acted carelessly." He admits, leaving a respectable distance between them. "Fear had seized me, derailing all rational thought." Cregan wants to extend a gloved hand for Jace to take so he can hold it. Instead he curls a fist, anger and regret raging inside of his barreled chest. "But I am here now to make amends and to plan our revenge." That wouldn't be enough to convince the belligerent prince. Jace would need time, reassurance, and action. If he would ever forgive Cregan, that was. He didn't want this to ruin their relationship further. They had something special, something that not even a forced betrayal could ruin. "T'was purely a coincidence. I received two ravens that day. One informing me of your brother's fate, and one from Aemond. Demanding your head." Cregan crosses his arms across his chest, shutting his eyes while his emotions rage within him. Ice was close enough to the prince that he could have grabbed the sword if he wished. Cregan wouldn't have moved to prevent this. For all he had put Jace through he deserved to be put to the sword.

"What do I have to do to prove my loyalty to you, my prince?" He asks after a moment of silence between them. Cregan was prepared to fall to his knees, to swear utter and undying loyalty to Jace. He had all but done so before his betrayal. He finally extends a gloved hand toward the prince, beckoning him forth. "Please, Jacaerys. Find it in your heart to heed my words."

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

"Aegon should be challenged. He's quiet. I feel he has lost a lot of brothers, and even if I'm here, I'm really not, am I?" While he can acknowledge that they are all convinced he is their lost Prince returned, only injured and lost, he is still unsure. The dragon is the only reason he believes it might be true, though there are bastards who claimed dragons through the war, he was told, and perhaps the Prince died, and this one found him an acceptable replacement. It helps him feel less guilty to think perhaps they are all mistaken, that he is just some other boy whose memories have been lost.

His appetite does find itself throughout the meal, perhaps the ease. Cregan is the first person to not treat him as though he might shatter, as though he is not made of glass, aside from the scene the prior evening. Now? He seems as comfortable as he might have been were Jace's memories still in place. More so, perhaps. He had dreamed of something that he might ask on later, something that might have been a memory. The obvious physical affection, even hidden beneath the table, is clearly something he is familiar with. Were they this way prior? Perhaps, if Cregan is so at ease doing so.

"I can show you all I have found, though I am sure there are several passageways that I haven't discovered. There seem to be several." The Red Keep seems to have been built with sneaking about in mind. Once he is finished, he relaxes a bit, sitting back in his seat while Cregan indulges. He has already once taken Cregan's hand, and perhaps it is that gesture of his own that has emboldened the Lord from the North to act thus. They're alone, so discretion is less necessary, but likely more familiar.

To Cregan, at least.

Jace is still so confused, torn between dreams that might be memories and what he is told. It is much easier to lean into everyone's expectations of what he should do than to try and remember who he is, but he finds himself trying to be amenable. Was he before? No one has stopped him from behaving thus, or acted confused how he behaved. Why not lean into it? Some of it feels natural, such as leaning into the touches of his mother, or embracing his brother when he offers it, so he finds himself curious if it is repressed memories telling him that he would have reacted the same way, or if he, who he was now, without his memories, would act the same way.

The weeks since he has returned, mind lost, have been confusing and he has done his best to recall whatever might be lost, but it often only results in headaches. Anything he thinks might be a memory, he often associates with just what he is told, does not inquire further. Would it not disappoint them, if he mentioned something that was false? He cannot keep doing that. It has been all he has done since arriving, disappointing these people who remember him, and he can see nothing. "Thank you, for that. It seemed to turn the war in our favor. I have been told what happened, but that is all. Maybe your perspective would be quite different. Considering you must have only gotten back to Winterfell only a few weeks before my mother sent the raven, and then you traveled back to King's Landing so swiftly. I must have made quite the impression in Winterfell. I would like to hear more about that too."

[hisoath]

"Then he's in good hands. Rickon is anything but quiet." He took after his mother in that regard. Arra had always been unafraid to voice her opinion, especially in the company of men. Between the two of them she had always been so boisterous, making her an excellent match for Cregan. Would she approve of Jace, he wondered? She probably would have thought him too fussy for her liking, but knew that Cregan liked them temperamental. "Don't be so hard on yourself, my prince. You are here. Even if your mind isn't whole." He offers the amnesiac boy a soft smile, placing a hand at the small of his back for a moment. Cregan smiles, "I was teasing you, my prince. It is far too soon for us to be sneaking off together." He wouldn't take advantage of a prince that couldn't remember their very first kiss. Cregan takes a deep swig from a mug of coffee. Perhaps that was a kindness. He couldn't think back to their first kiss without being immolated with shame. Jace had been a good sport, and would have returned the kiss if Cregan hadn't been drunk. The kisses that followed were much more fulfilling, and culminated in a kiss before the Godswood. That kiss had bound them together, linking their souls, and mixing their blood. "Though once you've regained your memory I expect a proper tour of your secret passage." Cregan winks over his mug of coffee. More teasing, meant to show just how carefree the ordinarily stoic Northern Lord could be in Jace's company.

He doesn't want to treat Jace as if he is foreign to him. Cregan had cupped that handsome face in his calloused hands, kissed those lips, and put those thighs upon his shoulders. Cregan knew every inch of Jace, and for now it was forbidden. That close proximity only made it difficult for Cregan to behave. For an entire year he had thought Jace lost and was now eating breakfast beside him in King's Landing. The Old Gods were surely testing him now, measuring both his patience and resolve. Cregan would accompany his prince for however long it took for him to regain his memories.

"Don't give me too much credit. By the time we marched the war was nearly over." Cregan wasn't particularly proud of that. He should have made the order to depart Winterfell sooner, but they had needed to prepare for the winter. Leaving wouldn't have changed anything. Jace had still been lost at sea, and the Greens were still trying to regain control of the city. Cregan had culled their forces, smothering their withering might beneath the fury of the north. He smiles, "You left quite the impression. You not only enchanted the entirety of the north, but it's warden as well." Fondness wrinkles his eyes as he sets his fork done, having finished his first plate. "What would you like to know of your time in Winterfell? We've all the time in the world, and I've got a good memory."

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

"No - you lost the right to address me as a friend might, Lord Stark. And you do not command me." Prisoner or not, he is still the Prince of Dragonstone, and the true heir to the Throne, no matter what the Hightowers continue to claim in King's Landing. Jace eyes the food, the table, the chair, and the man, before looking back out the window. If Cregan Stark wanted to kill him, he has had several opportunities before now. Vermax is out there, he knows, and the relief in knowing his dragon does not trust nor care for others, meaning he can easily get away if needed, if threatened. The idea that he might be able to convince Cregan that, even from this distance, without directly giving the orders, he might still be able to command Vermax to reduce Winterfell to cinders is a tempting one, but one he will hold onto for now. It is not a threat he can follow through with, in any case. He would need Cregan to believe it.

Perhaps he should start with the men posted outside his chamber doors, after their liege lord leaves. Convince them of it.

"Then why keep me here? I came as an envoy. Though I suppose it would send a signal to my mother, should both her envoy sons be murdered whilst they should be protected by Guests' rights." He turns back to face Cregan, leaning against the wall, keeping his distance. There's a dagger hidden near the bed, but he is too far to grab it, not that he expects he would be able to do much, particularly when Ice rests so casually next to the other man.

"My mother, whom your father once swore an oath to, though you seem to have forgotten that." The pointed word, knowing it might embitter him, but he deserved worse. Oathbreakers here, kinslayers in King's Landing. Were they truly to find themselves without allies? He can only hope Daemon has made it to the Riverlands, managed some success there, though he doubts he will be given any further information. Any future ravens will be unlikely to find their way to his hands, until he escapes. "What did they offer you? Some sweetened deal with the Usurper, to sway your allegiances. A marriage alliance with your son and his daughter, perhaps? Or some future promise of lands? Greed must be prevalent in the North, considering how much you already possess."

[hisoath]

"I do not command you but you ought to listen to me. Please, my h--" One of several nicknames he had given Jace bubbles on his lips before being quickly snuffed out. Cregan wanted to reply bluntly, telling the prince to shut up and listen to him. Doing so would have only infuriated Jace further, making him less compelled to reason. "Shall I only refer to you as Prince Jacaerys then?" He asks, watching his prisoner from across the room. Cregan didn't know how much more of this farce he could manage while Jace was drowning in turmoil. He had to make his involvement in the Hightower's scheme convincing. With a spy in the castle his lack of action would lead to Rickon being killed and Winterfell being reduced to ash. It pained him to see Jace so cross with him, but it was necessary. He would hopefully understand in time. Aemond's letter felt like a stone in the pocket of his cloak. The weight of it would crush him if he couldn't tell Jace the truth. "Do you think me so heartless that I would simply kill you?" He had to keep his voice low, constantly paranoid that another was listening in on all of the conversations he had. He trusted the guards outside of Jace's door with his very life, having known them his entire life. "--I cannot bring myself to harm you. No matter what is being asked of me." Cregan implores Jace with a soft look of his gray eyes. He spoke from the heart, burdened with the guilt of what he had been forced to do thus far. Harming his prince was out of the question, no matter what Aemond threatened. Cregan pushes up and out of his seat, crossing the room while abandoning Ice. Jace could have attempted to slip away, but Cregan is quick. He is upon the prince before he can react, catching his chin between thumb and forefinger. "Listen to me." He says through gritted teeth, his own eyes reddened with frustration. "I did not do this of my own volition." Cregan maintains his grip on Jace, his mouth suddenly having gone dry. It had been three days since he had been this close to the prince, and it felt foreign to him now. He knew that Jace would recoil or push him away in a bid to put distance between them. Cregan leans in close, his stubble raking over the prince's soft flesh. "They have my son." He didn't need to say more than that, Jace would understand. Cregan loved Rickon, and as one of his few surviving family members, he would do anything to protect him. "If I hadn't locked you away they would have killed him."

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

"I'm not hungry." It is less his own resolve and more grief that has forced his stomach to close, but the reasoning is irrelevant. He has gained exactly what he needed, which was the man who was the reason he was no longer a free man, an imprisoned Prince in the North, when he had come here in peace, an emissary. Weeks here and he had been received favorably, by both Cregan Stark and his men. He had hunted with them, and dined with them, and drank with them. Jace had even saved their liege lord from a bear, when the other men had failed to do so. Perhaps the men of the North were full of falsehoods.

"What I need is to return to Dragonstone, and you continue to prevent that. Why?" He can guess - perhaps the Greens had sent a missive, or perhaps they had arrived before he had, since he had been sent to White Harbour and the Vale prior, as they were on the way. A week. Perhaps far more than enough time. It did not explain why he would not be sequestered upon his arrival, rather than spending several weeks building a comradery with him. Were his men as complicit in this entire scheme? He can hardly believe so. It must be simply Cregan's own scheme.

He does not know, has only had three days to speculate, but he is smart, not above thinking of even the most obscure ideas. Jace does not move, though he keeps his eyes on Cregan, who he no longer trusts, has no reason to do so. "I cannot trust your words. Why should I trust your food? You have already lied to me, and broken the oath of your father. I would prefer to die without being full of poison." His fingers stop tapping upon the window, fresh air now forbidden to him. Vermax must be growing furiously impatient. It won't be long before the irritable beast attacks one of his men.

What will Cregan Stark do then? There is nothing in Winterfell to slay a dragon.

"I will eat, when I am back at Dragonstone. Unless you have plans to send my head to King's Landing, to the Usurper." Jace cannot leave, but he can tell Vermax is furious, ready to burn any that approach, as Jace had never restrained him - he hopes Vermax will fly to Dragonstone, warn them in some way. "If that is the plan, then get along with it, Oathbreaker. You come here with Ice, knowing I am unarmed." There is no reason to keep him prisoner unless it is at the request of the Greens. He is angry, and his body is weakened by preventing it food and drink for three days, but his resolve is strong. "I will not be a bargaining chip. My mother has other sons - if you think I find my value as eldest higher than any of theirs? You are sadly mistake."

[hisoath]

"Jacaerys." Cregan reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He had expected this. Having just threatened the prince, Cregan had no actual intent on following through. His shoulders ached with the weight of what he was expected to do. Jace didn't deserve to be put down like a rabid animal, especially after suffering the loss of his younger brother. Would he understand when he finally admitted that Rickon was in danger? Jace would have surely done the same if one of his siblings or his mother was at stake. "You need to eat." He insists, picking up the neglected tray of food that Jace had deliberately left on the floor. He sets it down onto the table in the prince's chamber. Cregan slides Ice off of his back, placing it beside him before sinking down into one of the chairs at the table. "Sit." He folds his hands over one another, knowing there was a high possibility that Jace didn't join him at all. "I cannot tell you." Cregan had been instructed to keep Aemond's involvement a secret. How the one-eyed villain would hear about it, Cregan wasn't certain. There must have been a spy amongst his staff. Perhaps after discovering the culprit he would be able to inform Jace of the Hightower's involvement. "Poison would be unbefitting for you." He wanted to quip, joking that a fitting death would be one at his side. But he had burned that bridge. Cregan lifts a piece of bacon off of the tray and takes a bite out of it. He chews. He swallows. "Eat." He insists again, leaning back in his chair before crossing his arms beneath his chest. Cregan does not blame Jace for being so hostile. He had panicked, thinking of Rickon in great peril when he ordered that Jace be seized immediately. His men had been confused, all having grown fond of the prince. They still followed their orders, escorting Jace to his room where he had remained now for three days. "I wouldn't be doing this if I had no other choice." Cregan hisses. "You have to understand." He implores Jace with a look of worry in his eyes. Images of Vhagar soaring over Winterfell, awfully majestic, and nearly blotting out the sun fill Cregan's mind. Vermax was much smaller than the dragon of Aemond. What would they do if Vhagar returned to scorch the North? He speaks softer now, as if he's afraid that someone might be listening. "There's no need for that. I don't intend on murdering you." He gestures with his eyes to the seat across from him. "Won't you come closer so I can admire you, my prince?" Perhaps flirting would convince Jace that he was being threatened, forced to break the very oath his father had made before he was born.

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

@hisoath / plotted starter

'You, at least, had the mercy to not threaten me with your dragon.'

He should have seen it coming then. Perhaps it was a warning. Or perhaps it was just an errant thought. In either case, they had returned to Winterfell three days prior, and whilst he had believed he would be leaving to return home, particularly after the raven had been sent alerting them of what had occurred at Storm's End, it seemed other plans were made. Starks never forget their oaths - that seemed to no longer be the case. Three days locked in the chambers he had been brought to when he had arrived, several weeks prior, door opening under guard only when food was brought to him. Food he was ignoring, petulant and angry about how he had gone from Prince to prisoner in only a few moments.

That must be why Cregan is here now. Considering he had given him no explanation, nor seen him for days.

Jace is standing by the window, fingers tapping furiously against the sill, though his eyes narrow at the sight of the Lord of Winterfell. He has no words for him, truly, and does not wish to greet him. Anger has not over-taken his grief, though he refuses to show that emotion before Cregan Stark, though he is certain his eyes remain red, raw from the knowledge that his brother was killed, and he cannot even return home to mourn, imprisoned when he ought to have been treated as a guest. There is little he can say, but he does offer a single greeting, knowing it will hit it's mark. A nod of his head before he speaks, though his tone is hollow, the single word spoken with a dry throat, raw from anger: "Oathbreaker."

[hisoath]

Cregan wanted none of this. Yet, he had no other choice. Aemond Targaryen had kidnapped his son, sneaking Rickon out of Winterfell in the dead of night. Waking to a letter in his chambers, he was left with a choice: Betray Queen Rhaenyra or Winterfell would be burned to the ground. Rickon was kept as a bartering chip, keeping the Northern Lord in check. His son would be returned when Jace was shipped to King's Landing. Dead or alive. Cregan couldn't bring himself to harm Jace, so he confined the prince to his chambers like a prisoner. He hated himself for this. Jace looked upon him with so much contempt he was certain he would have caught fire if possible. Cregan now wished it so. Immolation was preferable to this.

Three days worth of food had gone uneaten, meaning Jace was starving himself by choice. This paired with a very angry and confused Vermax, forced Cregan to step in. He couldn't allow the dragon to rampage, and he couldn't allow his prisoner to starve. Cregan allows himself into the room, eyes dark and lips drawn into a thin line. He doesn't greet Jace formally. My prince. The words would have felt tainted slipping past his lips. Jace had every right to be furious with him. Cregan doesn't flinch when the boy spits such a vicious insult at him. Starks didn't forget their oaths. That was what his father had always said, but the old wolf had never gone against the might of a dragon. "You need to eat." Cregan moves into the room, closer now, but still at a distance. He can feel Jace's grief and anger swirling around him like a tumultuous storm. "If you do not eat you will be forced. Do not make this harder than it needs to be." He keeps his eyes fixed on the prince, his lower lip quivering at the sight of Jace's reddened eyes. Cregan felt like an absolute bastard. He had held the prince when he had received news of Luke's passing, and ran a hand through his curls while the prince sobbed into his chest. Cregan tightens the grip he had on Ice, tucking away all feeling where Jace couldn't see it. His people are also confused by the sudden betrayal, but Cregan had explained it simply. They had to detain Jace or they would all die.

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

The book he had been thumbing through is closed, something he will set aside once they sit to dine. His hands move behind his back, holding the book, a simply history of the realm, nothing too important, but one he was told he had pored over several times before. And has done so since. His family history? He can near recite. His own? Still so lost, though he is unsure if these dreams have been memories or just thoughts, based around what he is told, manifesting in some hope to appease those he is constantly disappointing.

"Good morning, Lord Stark. I have not been waiting long. A few pages, at most." He replies, a half-smile on his face, holding the book in his hands. There was a day before them, where he had been excused from lessons that Jacaerys Velaryon had learned before. Now that Cregan Stark was in King's Landing, he had been given grace to not attend lessons. His mother's last attempt at getting him to remember, by allowing him the freedom with another who might remind him. If Cregan cannot, he has heard her say, when he is meant to be out of earshot, and none of them were able, perhaps his mind was truly lost. Could any man in the realm feel more guilt, the heaviness of disappointment on his shoulders, without having any recollection of the war? It made him feel even worse.

"Shall we break our fast? There is often a spread available, for we all seem to wake at odd hours." He nods his heads in the direction of the dining hall, before he begins to walk, the book he had behind his back, almost certain Cregan would follow. "I saw Aegon with a boy that I can only assume was your Rickon, on my way here, so I suppose he woke earlier, and asked for or found breakfast. They were playing in the courtyard." If it could be called play, for Aegon was so quiet, reserved, said hardly a word unless prompted. Seeing him with a boy near in age? It was nice. While he did not remember his supposed-brother, he was still protective, in these weeks of spending time with him.

When they enter the hall, only a guard and his mother remain, though Jace expects that - his mother meets him each morning, that same hopeful look in her eyes as she approaches him, her hands place upon his cheek, a question asked, to which he shakes his head. The disappointed look he knows will be in her eyes? He meets them anyways as he does provide the reply he knows she does not want to hear. That he does not remember. She nods, though the look on her face, the smile between sadness and understanding, turning then towards Cregan Stark. 'Lord Stark.' Her words come out clear, her hand still on Jace's cheek, and he does not move, lips pursed, knowing she will need to leave soon enough. 'I would wish to speak with you later today. I have some things to attend to now, but later on?' She nods her head at Cregan, looking past Jace, before she looks back to her son, removing her hand, placing a kiss on his forehead, before departing. A ritual he has grown quite used to, and while the tension might be apparent in his shoulders, his hands are only tense because he has the book as pretext.

The table before them, however, has a spread - meats, fruits, breads. "Help yourself." Jace says, once she has walked past, her guards following after her. His own, he hears, is dismissed by his mother. Perhaps it is because she knows that Cregan will defend him, should anything happen. Jace sighs, exhaling deeply, before placing the book on a table, and walking around the table, taking a seat. He takes the end piece of some bread, tearing some off and eating it, though it lies heavy in his stomach, leaden with the guilt he feels.

Once they are both seated, he speaks again. "So, what shall we do today? I didn't approach Rickon - In case you wanted to be there when I met him…again, I suppose. But if you feel it's too soon, that is fine too. You wanted to see me this morning, you said. That is why I came to your chambers." Though Jace can hardly imagine what Cregan thinks might happen. "I know you were in King's Landing briefly before, for the Coronation. Did you get to see much of it? I've had little to do but explore, if you wanted to see more." His questions are asked as he tears apart bread, eats bits of fruit, drinks some of the juice set before him. Not much - his appetite is low. Anxious, a disappointment, depressed without his memories. He releases a heavy breath, before shaking his head. "You are the guest here, after all. What would you like to do today, Lord Stark?"

[hisoath]

The sight of Jace waiting for him in all of his princely finery emboldened Cregan. "I'm glad to hear that. It would be very unbecoming to keep my prince waiting." Cregan smiles around his words. Jace might have belonged to the realm, but he was truly his. Cregan can't stop grinning as they walk side by side through the red keep. This is how it should have been. In another life where Jace hadn't sacrificed himself in the name of love and duty. His lover might have forgotten him and their time together entirely, but Cregan wouldn't give up. He wouldn't squander a second chance with Jace now that he had one. Cregan would take the prince back to Winterfell in a bid to restore his lost memory if necessary.

"Aye. Lead the way." He hadn't realized that he had only eaten once on the road yesterday. Cregan had been so consumed with concern for Jace that he focused on very little. He had made sure that his son and all of his men were taken care of, but disregarded the painful rumbling of his own stomach. "Hopefully my boy hasn't caused too much trouble. Since returning to Winterfell he's been rambunctious." Rickon no longer hid behind his father when spoken to, and was often found in the courtyard playing with the other children of Winterfell or exploring her ancient halls. "I had hoped that he and Aegon would become friends. He needs them." Cregan pitied the boy a year ago when he was certain that Jace was dead, leaving Aegon with no siblings. Five boys. Four of which were lost to war. He couldn't imagine that kind of suffering.

Entering the great hall, Cregan is surprised to find Queen Rhaenyra there. He straightens his posture, folding his hands behind his back. She had called upon him when he had arrived in King's Landing, imploring him to do what was necessary to restore Jacaerys back to his old self. Cregan had been so certain that the sight of him alone would have been enough. He had failed Rhaenyra yet again. There was still work to be done, and Jace had showed a fondness for him that gave him hope. His prince wouldn't have just held his hand to appease his aching heart. Cregan watches as Rhaenyra takes her eldest son's face into her hands. The sight makes him dizzy with recollected life. He couldn't remember his own mother. She had been lost to sickness after birthing his younger brother, and all memory of her had nearly been forgotten. It is the voice of Rhaenyra that brings Cregan back to the present. He gives her a solemn nod, "I'll be there. Just call upon me when you are ready, my queen." Cregan doesn't relax until his queen and her guard leave the great hall. It is a growl of his stomach that breaks the silence that follows. Jace was already seated, helping himself to bread by the time Cregan joins him. He notes the lack of guards, finding it particularly odd that the crown prince would be left without. Rhaenyra must have thought highly of Cregan if she believed him capable of defending Jace. She was correct, of course. Cregan didn't boast of his own skill, but stories of his swordsmanship and prowess on the battlefield had circulated the seven kingdoms. Joining his prince, he sits at his side. Their thighs touch, and Cregan makes no effort to make distance between them. Besides, it was essential that he remain by Jace in order to protect him. Cregan helps himself to pieces of bread, porridge, and fruits. He does his best not to devour the entirety of the spread before him. Jace is filling the air between them with conversation, and Cregan doesn't mind. He loved everything about his prince, particularly his voice and those lovely lips. "Rickon will be happy to meet you. After we finish our meal we can track him down. He'll be with Aegon, no doubt." Beneath the table the hand he wasn't using to eat rests upon Jace's thigh. Hidden beneath the table, he could be affectionate with the prince where no others could see. They had sat side by side in the great hall of Winterfell and afforded each other fleeting touches just as this, and it made him nostalgic. "During the Hour of the Wolf I had little time to do much of anything." Cregan smirks at the name given to his short tenure as Hand of the King. "If you would like to give me a tour of the keep, I wouldn't refuse. You can show me all of the hidden passages and secret rooms.." Cregan squeezes Jace's thigh, smiling down at his prince. Perhaps it was flirtation that would rouse the boy's memories?

[hisoath]

@worthyheir

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"Vermax seems to be snapping or snarling at even the Dragonkeepers. Only I have been able to get close, or someone with me, or he lashes out, I am told." He keeps up a calm pace, not wanting to seem as though he is dragging his feet. It is not as though Cregan has treated him with any sense of normalcy - everyone had reacted in a nearly similar fashion, with tears and grief, guilt that settles on his shoulders for it. This? This is atonement, for not remembering, when he knows those memories exist, somewhere in his mind. He is still smart, still sharp, retains everything he has learned since, including having to, apparently, re-learn High Valyrian.

The hand in his doesn't pull away, and he finds himself more than a little pleased by that. Even if he is still partially convinced they are all deluding themselves into thinking he is their lost prince, he finds Cregan's presence has been the most calming and welcome, aside from Rhaenyra's. "I do not sleep much, you are right, but I am not sure it is the same as was." Now? He does not sleep, for he has the strangest dreams, mostly involving him being struck by arrows, and being unaware of why.

When Cregan speaks of the North, he almost pauses, but he continues his steps quickly, swallowing that hesitation. There is a flash of a fire, where he sits close to the man he walks with, but it disappears as quickly as it appears, and he can only hope his pause is unnoticed, especially as it occurs at they reach his doors. Thankfully.

"Well, my Lord, I hope you find your chambers here comfortable enough." He is hesitant to go, but he knows that if he stays, Cregan will be forcing himself awake to speak with him, and he can see that the Lord of Winterfell is dead on his feet. He needs to sleep and, in truth? The stress of the day is wearing on Jace as well. "If you rise before I do, please come to my chambers. If not? I suppose I shall come to yours, to learn more of our time together." He says, a smile in his face, taking the hand he grabbed, and placing a kiss on the back of it - if Cregan's words are truth, this action should not bother him, he thinks.

He smiles up at Cregan, once they are outside of his door. "ease, get some rest. Tomorrow. We can talk more. You can try to remind me of everything." The same hope that he has each night, that he might wake up with his memories, passes through his mind, for after this? He must go say goodnight to his mother and brothers. An exhausting venture, for he must endure the same pitying stares, the same questions that, tonight, will come with the same disappointing answers.

Before he does depart in truth, he places a swift kiss on the back of the hand of Cregan's that he holds, before letting it go. "I shall see you on the morrow." His reply is said with a smile, though Jace does walk off rather quickly, mostly to ensure that Cregan will not remain awake on his account. Jace has rested much more than usual as of late, the only weight on his shoulders being the slight guilt of either being a false impersonation of the lost Prince or not remembering those he loves.

He does go to his chambers, and he does sleep, though he can hardly call it relaxing. His dreams seem to be taunting him. Some joke of his supposed time in the North, some fabrication, though, when he does wake up, an hour or so before dawn, he does consider asking Cregan about it. If what he dreamt was a memory, or merely a hopeful fabrication. But if it is the latter? He considers that might be cruel.

Instead? He finds himself bathed, changed, and standing against the wall outside of Cregan's chambers just as the sun rises, now impatient. His brothers and mother are not persistent, and while he knows little of Cregan, he is certain the other will try and recite their time together well enough so he might remember it. That alone is enough to have him standing across the hall from the closed doors, his guard standing down the hall - for Jacaerys Targaryen is not able to escape a guard any longer, since he nearly died the last time, though this guard often keeps a respectable distance - a small book in his hand, waiting, for he is certain Cregan was exhausted, but he must awake some time, and if his words were truth? Jace has no doubt Cregan will not wait to find him and continue the conversation.

[hisoath]

Poor thing. Vermax had fought valiantly, soaring into a calamitous battle that raged over open waters. Neither dragon or rider had been in real combat before, and it had showed. Cregan had heard several accounts of the Battle of the Gullet, and each retelling made him sick to his stomach. Vermax had flown too low, crashing into the sea with Jace still upon his saddle. Arrows rained down upon the pair, piercing both dragon and rider. Cregan dreamt of that often enough. Bloodied waters, splintered ships, and a dark haired prince sinking to the bottom of the sea. In his dreams he dives into the ocean just in time to wrap his arms around Jace before he sinks. He could feel each arrow piercing his flesh, and the icy embrace of the ocean as he vanishes beneath her depths with Jace in his embrace. Still saddled to Vermax, they sink deeper and deeper until no light can reach them. Cregan tries to mantain his grip on Jace, ignoring the awful feeling of water filling his lungs, and the searing pain that pervades his entire being. No matter how hard he holds onto Jace, the prince slips out of his grip, forcing him awake. Cregan had woken calling for Jace, breath ragged, and drenched in sweat the very first time he had suffered that nightmare. It had felt so real that it shook him to his very core. Cregan was afraid that this was all a dream. His nightmare of the gullet had felt convincing enough that he couldn't believe that even this was real. But it was. Jace had survived his ordeal and was now walking hand in hand with Cregan. He would be a fool not to enjoy this, no matter how unusual.

Pausing before the door of his chambers, Cregan contemplates inviting Jace inside. In an ideal world they would have reunited after the war, this very scene would have played out differently. Cregan would have carried Jace through the door before tossing him onto the bed. Now he walked with stooped shoulders, and a grim complexion. He looked so unlike the Warden of the North that Jace had first met in Winterfell. What would that Jace think of him now? The thought made him frown. Jace was right beside him, but absent of all memories that made him whole. He was an approximation of his prince, one that was shattered and put back together. "Aye. We'll meet on the morrow, after we've gotten shut-eye." His northern accent is crisp and rugged thanks to his exhaustion. He was so tired that he couldn't even stop Jace from lifting his hand to his lips. Cregan allows the kiss, aware of an all too familiar ache in his chest. Warmth bloomed where Jace kissed, returning feeling to his stiff fingers. He looks at his hand before catching sight of Jacaerys retreating around the corner. "Sleep well, my prince." Cregan calls out softly behind him. If Jace hears him, he is uncertain. Inside of his chambers, Cregan peels himself out of his clothes and tosses himself onto the bed. His entire body aches with exertion, quickly pulling him into a deep slumber. He doesn't dream that night. When Cregan wakes he does so with regret. For the first time in a year he had been blissfully unaware, allowed to drift amidst comforting nothingness where nothing mattered. It is a long moment before Cregan rises and readies himself for the day. He had a certain prince to find.

Donning a gray tunic, and trousers, Cregan opens the door to find Jacaerys there waiting for him. "Good morning, my prince." Cregan reaches up to tie his long dark hair up and into a low ponytail. "I was prepared to search high and low for you. Thank you for saving me the effort." He gives the prince a formal bow upon noticing the knight at the end of the hall. In the light of day, Jace looks just as he did when departing Winterfell. His curls were fluffy and full, and his brown eyes twinkled with the promise of tomorrow. Cregan had fallen in love with him then, but thus far had not said it. "Hopefully I did not keep you waiting long."

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@hisoath

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"Did he truly? He must trust me." For Jace cannot recall the child, and that alone pains him as deeply as it had when he had come to the woman claiming to be his mother, speaking of brother's whose faces he could no longer recall. "I wonder if he would again, though Vermax is quite temperamental of late. I would never wish to endanger anyone with him now." It is unaware to Jace that Vermax is temperamental with everyone, including those Jace loves, other than a select few, most of which are children. Who Jace loves and sees as vulnerable are the exception to the temperamental beast.

"Let me accompany you to your chambers, at least. It might be unbecoming for the guards to discover you half-collapsed in the hallways, and then I will know where to meet you on the morrow, when we are both rested." Though rest, it seems, is fleeting for him. He had broaching the concern with his mother, and she had seemed relieved, that it was something of him that was familiar, and Maester Gerardys had given him a draught, though he had only used it once. He did not enjoy the way it made him feel, upon waking, groggy and disillusioned.

Jace does not give him the moment to decline, the opportunity to do so. The hand on Jace's shoulder becomes one soon in his hand, already beginning his walk out of these chambers, for he will not hear a refusal, and if Cregan Stark's words are truth, he will likely not feel uncomfortable being hand in hand with the prince he was claimed to be sworn to. What is there for Jace, where even his name feels wrong, to find discomfort?

"I will leave you there, when we arrive, so you can rest. You came all this way to see me, so when you awaken, find me. I can hear more about Winterfell, and your journey, and perhaps I will have remembered something on the morrow." It has been what he has told himself each day, that tomorrow, he might wake up with something, some memory. He can sometimes feel as though he has found some remnants of his past life in his dreams, but he can only recall the vaguest feeling of them in the morning, nothing in truth. Just a feeling. Like his mind, now broken, is taunting him in his sleep. It is not a long walk, and he has no idea how to fill the silence, hopes that his escorting Cregan to his chambers is enough to appease him, since his return did not return anything to Jace. "Was it terribly cold, when you left Winterfell? Or has the snow slowed?"

[hisoath]

"He adores you." Cregan confirms with a warm smile. Rickon had taken an instant liking to Jace, and had asked for the crown prince countless times since he had visited them. Cregan had promised that they would both visit King's Landing when possible. He should have left Rickon in Winterfell, but he had made a promise, and Starks never forgot their oaths. Especially to their pups. "Rickon is fearless. He was never afraid of Vermax, and I think your dragon knew that. I was surprised that he was so gentle with my son." Cregan had watched the entire exchange with bated breath. Jace had assured him that Rickon was perfectly fine over and over again, but that did little to quell his heart. Vermax would never hurt Rickon, Cregan knew that. No matter how ill-tempered, he reflected the same kindness that Jace had held for his son.

He shakes his head. Cregan couldn't impose upon Jacaerys, especially after making such a fool of himself. "I appreciate the offer, my prince. But I ca--" His protest dies in his throat when a delicate hand slides into his own. Cregan resists the warmth that blossoms in his chest, knowing that this meant nothing. Jace was only doing this out of courtesy. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. Cregan found that he loved the sound of Jace's voice, and hearing him speak so warmly in anticipation of the morrow made him smile. This is how it should have been. Jace should have been beside him a year ago to celebrate his mother's coronation. Cregan had drank himself into a stupor then, going out to the sea so he could wallow in his misery. He knelt on the shore, allowing waves to crash against him while staring out at the great expanse of the ocean. It felt odd to be holding the hand of the boy he had mourned so painfully.

Cregan squeezes the hand that fits so perfectly into his own. "I wake early, and I know you sleep very little. If you're groggy in the morning I will take breakfast up to your chambers." He had already planned on taking Rickon through the gardens, and showing him around the castle. His short tenure in King's Landing had left him very little time to actually explore the Red Keep. Cregan had spent the entirety of his visit in the great hall where he cleaved heads from shoulders and doled out justice. This time, even with an amnesiac prince, he planned on enjoying himself. "It was a light summer snow. Just like when we visited the wall." Cregan smiles fondly at the memory, "When we return it'll be nearly autumn, and we'll need to prepare our harvests. Perhaps you could visit then? It won't be too cold, and if you feel so compelled, I know a certain northerner that would be happy to help keep you warm."

[mournfulroses]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Incest: A Jounal of Love; The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1947-1955

[worthyheir-deactivated20260318]

"Two months." Lost. Not that the rest of his life prior was not also lost. Before he had been found, and brought to Rhaenyra, for the lost dragon had been a clue to his origins, even if he could not recall them. Every day and night, every waking moment, is spent trying to find some familiarity, but other than the recent weeks with his family, all else is lost. The guilt on his shoulders is heavy, but somehow he manages it, which makes him think, perhaps, he has shouldered more weight than this, and that perhaps it will return. The headaches are frequent, his mind perhaps trying to return, but the pain giving him any pause of letting it in, particularly since it often occurred when he slept, waking with a headache, making it hard to rest again, when his morning woke with some familiarity, but nothing concrete.

"We have matching scars, and I believe you, your words, or her Grace --- " He hesitates, for he is still apprehensive of the claim, confused, unsure if he is the prince they claim, or merely a boy injured from war who resembled him just so. "My mother's words. I would prefer you to call me Jace, as everyone else claims I was oft called by family, friends, loved ones. And your words make me think we were more than friends, yes?"

Cregan Stark standing gives him the most relief, exhaling, for he cannot think of anything he might have done to reduce to the Warden of the North to his knees, in tears, when he had heard the tales. How Cregan Stark, upholding his vow and his father's vow, marched south, eliminating their enemies, and ensuring, in the end, that his mother had sat the throne. And then he had gone home.

And Jace had returned, later, though he cannot believe he is the prince that they claim, no matter how the scars align with the stories. "You saved my family. You have no need for my forgiveness. I cannot recall, but what I know, the Prince that you and all else recall? Would have found that to be worthy of admiration. And I do, as well." Even if he does not have the same memories, he does, it seem, have the same moral code, and some deep connection to his mother and brother.

"I apologize. I know that is disappointing. It has been quite the same for others as of late." His mother, his brother, Baela, Rhaena. While they all express their grief at not recalling his memories, he is unsure if they understand how stressful the pressure to recall is on his shoulders. "Rickon is your son? My mother told me some. Had I introduced him to Vermax, before?" A question, when ironically, the dragon was the closest company he had, now. Vermax understood him, in ways no one else had. But a dragon was not a person, and as much as he felt connected to Vermax, he craved that human connection, someone that he might find to relate to, whilst trying to remember who he was.

"He's young, is not he? I recall my mother saying he had just passed his third nameday? Or was approaching it? Everything gets a bit…confusing." Trying to remember new things, trying to bring back old memories, muddled them together. Now that Cregan was standing, he has to look up to speak to him respectfully. Everything he has learned about Cregan Stark, before today and in this brief conversation, he can understand why he, that is to say, the Prince who remembered, has exchanged a blood oath with this man, and can believe his other words as well.

"Your journey was long. It is a month, is it not, to get from Winterfell to King's Landing? You must be weary." His hands hang at his side, almost feeling empty now within the hand grasping his wrist. He does attempt a smile, though it falls more half-hearted than he means. "Though if you are not, I would like to hear more, about those two months. It appears no one here knows what happened there, other than that we became close, and you upheld your oath. If you'd like, we can even go to your chambers, and sit, rather than standing here. Less...formal, if you will." He is trying to appease everyone - a trait that he will one day learn is more of a remembered trait. And Cregan has confessed much, near collapsed before him. Jace owed him more time than just a few moments of disappointment. "And I can meet Rickon again whenever you think it appropriate"

[hisoath]

Two months. It had taken two months for Cregan Stark to fall utterly and irrevocably in love with the Jacaerys Velaryon. When his dragon prince had first departed Winterfell, he had expected his fondness of Jace to diminish in the sobering light of separation. He had noted his initial dislike for the way the prince carried himself, but discovered that it was done out of necessity. Jace was the crown prince, and lived every moment of every day serving as an example for his people. Cregan pitied him for that, and was glad to offer him succor from having to constantly put on a show. Behind closed doors he had seen a side of Jace that showed him just how genuine, biting, and affectionate he was. There wasn't one moment when they were together when the prince wasn't touching him.

Cregan nods, "We were more than friends, yes." That was putting it simply. He believed that the Old Gods had delivered Jace to him, to quell his aching heart, and to reward him for his dedication to the north. Naturally, their gift had caveats, and his relationship with Jace came with so many that they could fill the entire library of Winterfell with them. It was ironic that the very first man he had ever felt an inkling of romantic interest for would be the crown prince of the seven kingdoms. Jace was already sworn to another, set to one day rule beside Baela Targaeryn, whom he had grown a great deal of respect for. Believing Jace was dead, they had took comfort in one another, though Cregan didn't reveal the depths of his feelings for their lost prince. He felt guilty even now that he had robbed Baela of Jace's virtue.

He wants to snap at Jace, to tell him to stop apologizing, for he is tired of hearing it. His prince had done nothing wrong, and it felt hollow for him to keep apologizing for something out of his control. Those words, which were meant to soothe him, only made him agitated. Not with Jace, but the entire awful ordeal. "Aye, Rickon is my pup." His gray eyes twinkle with fondness for his son, acting as a buffer from the storm brewing within him. "T'was you who convinced me to allow Rickon to meet Vermax. I respect your dragon, and I admire him. But I would be lying if I said he didn't terrify me." Cregan admits with a soft chuckle. "You can't remember, but Rickon wrestled himself from my arms and into yours at the chance to meet him." The thought brings tears to his eyes, followed by a sigh that rolls through his barreled chest.

Having decided that he had shed enough tears for the evening, Cregan blinked them away. "I'm exhausted. I had ignored the fatigue in my bones until we reached the capitol. For I could think of nothing else but you." Cregan admits, offering Jacaerys a shy smile that reaches his stormy gray eyes. Now that he stood before his prince, and had done little to help his condition, he could ignore the ache in his limbs no longer. Cregan reaches for Jace, placing one hand on his shoulder. "I would like nothing more, my prince. But I'm afraid that with you in close proximity, I'll simply fall asleep." Knowing that Jace was safe, no matter the state of his mind, was enough for Cregan to sleep soundly through the night. He wouldn't be haunted of visions of Jace sinking into the ocean, or searching the woods surrounding Winterfell for him. He would be in front of him, within reach, and that was all Cregan had wanted for a year.

Cregan's hand travels upward, cupping the prince's face. "Perhaps another night. When I am not delirious, and haven't dumped all of my burdens upon your shoulders." He wasn't aware that he was being far too affectionate with the prince who could seldom remember anything, but it came naturally to them. "Though you can come to my chambers whenever you wish. For I would be a fool to turn you away, my prince."