Please proceed with caution, read at your own risk, my writing is somewhat… yeah bad; I promise I’m working on it...
just a fyi majority of my work was on my side blog @mydayy but I moved it here. if you ever want to request work, I’m more than happy to oblige, don’t know if it’ll be any good tho. hehe pls comment on my writing it makes my heart melt in a good way :)
★彡 Series ★彡
Durarara!!
Stalker!Izaya x Reader
1. I simply love humans genre: yandere | stalker
Izaya Orihara really does love humans, but maybe he adores you just a little bit more; because your one really interesting human being.
2. Human Desires genre: yandere | stalker
This time around, the target of Izaya’s sinister obsession is, you.
The start of Izaya’s new profound interest in her, soon takes a turn for the sinister and now there’s just no stopping him. From getting what he wants, and what he wants is her.
4. Game of Cat and Mouse genre: yandere | stalker | kidnapping
He began to slowly unwrap her. Her mind. Her heart. Her soul. He hadn’t gotten to her clothes yet. But she knew he would soon enough.
☆ scenario ☆
Anime
Amnesia
Relationship! w/ Amnesia Characters
Blue Lock
Coffee.
It’s a bitter taste now, and god how it felt like love.
Chainsaw man
Cigarette
Aki realized his harmful addiction wasn’t just cigarettes.
Taste of Cigarettes
After losing Aki, you took up a harmful addiction. The very same one you broke up with him because of.
Haikyuu!!
Jealous, Jealous
Kageyama wasn’t a jealous person, but he swore he had murder on his mind when he spotted you and Oikawa together.
Save Your Tears
Oikawa sees you for the first time since your breakup.
Jujutsu Kaisen
Empress & The Fool
You had your whole life planned out, for you since the moment you were born, the fate of the clan rested upon your shoulders. You were the eldest daughter of the Zenin clan after all. You always accepted this as fact, but soon you find yourself wondering if there is more to life. With just one chance encounter, your life is completely turned upside down and you soon find yourself falling for the young heir of the rivaling Gojo clan. But will your feelings for one another suffice? Or will your families never ending fued get in the way of your true love?
Red Cigarettes After a devastating breakup, you give up on the thought of ever finding someone else; but that all changed when you met a man with ocean blue eyes.
Arrangement
Megumi can’t help feel his heart thump anytime he sees you. Megumi would never admit it but he was eternally grateful to gojo. If it wasn’t for him he would have never met you.
Cigarettes.
Let me be your cigarette, baby.
I don’t like you, I love you.
You better than anyone should know Gojo Satoru’s truest feelings.
Jealousy
Yuta can’t help but feel his chest tighten in pain as he heard you chatting intimately with Megumi, and so he got incredibly jealous.
Lost Soul
He promised you, after all. And Satoru Gojo doesn’t go, and break his promises.
Love Language
In which you become very concerned after you hear of Megumi’s encounter with a high grade curse artifact. You then decide to tell and show him all the ways he effects you.
Sugar
Gojo Satoru loves sweets things, and that includes you.
Relationship! w/ Jujutsu Kaisen Characters
Jujutsu sorcerers — love at first sight troupe
Jujutsu Kaisan characters as yanderes: tokyo school edition
Jujutsu Kaisan as yanderes characters: kyoto school edition
Yandere!gojo x Darling!reader
Yandere!Gojo! x Darling!Reader!
Kuroko’s Basketball
Dangerous Bet
Akashi will win, he always does. And this time he’s betting it all on the line. You’ll be his, this he swore.
Stars, Fate and everything in between
Murasakibara didn’t believe in fate, but damn did he believe that all the stars just so happened to align so you could meet that fateful day.
Kuroko’s Basketball | Jealousy
Kuroko’s Basketball | Suggestive/Smut HC
My Hero Academia
hot girl bummer
Class 1-B, Neito Monoma can’t seem to never have anything good to say about anyone in hero class 1-A, and your not immune to his sarcastic behavior, and taunting criticism. But just maybe he takes joy in wanting to making you squirm, and have your face turn red with anger. And when he finally achieves to make you crack, he can’t help, but feel pathetic.
Tokyo Revengers
Strange Land , Strange Land Part 2
After a couple of years, you finally met your dear brothers. They left your home town Roppongi to make a name for themselves, in Tokyo, but you stayed and made sure to take care of the city. And circumstances arise, we’re you pay them a little visit. And maybe along the way you make new enemies, friends and something more.
Deadly Obsession
Sanzu has many addictions, drugs, alcohol, women, sex. But nothing compares to you. Your his deadly obsession. He’ll have you one way or another this, he swore.
Dope Lovers
He was entranced, for you were his newest addiction, and he so desperately needed more, a higher dose of.
Intoxicating
After a one night stand, Ran can’t help but fantasize about you. The way your body moved, the way you seemed so delicate, fragile, and absolutely mesmerizing pressed up under him as he made you, his. For after that night, Ran claimed you as his, and he’ll have you one way, or another.
Tokyo Revengers | Marriage Proposals
Tokyo Revengers | Marriage Proposals Part 2
Tokyo Revengers | Yandere
Otome Games
Genshin Impact
The Housekeeper
Thomas becomes very interested in up cleaning, and offers you his assistance during spring cleaning; but could it be a ploy to get into your home, and spy on you and your most intimate moments?
Diluc is madly in love with a maid at his estate
Tv shows
Peaky Blinders
Lookalike
But she wasn’t his, to call his own; she was but a lookalike and nothing more.
Unrequited
You of course did love Thomas Shelby, that was at least true.
Stranger Things
Heather
You have always been in love with your best friend, Steve Harrington but his heart belongs to another. The undisputed fact, only provided you with more heartache. But maybe along the way you saw how you weren't meant to ever be together, and that was just okay.
Kpop
Stray Kids
Distant
Changbin worried that you two might be growing apart. He hesitates to approach you with his concerns, but its proving to be rather difficult.
Movie Night
Felix really likes watching movies, but maybe he likes you a whole lot more.
Relationship! w/ Stray Kids
Stray kids as kdrama tropes
✧ Image ✧
Yandere x Reader
yandere! guardian angel x reader
๑ drabble ๑
Lover! x Reader
Hello, Stranger!
But here he was undeniably mesmorized by her, a total stranger
Kiss Me
they’re first time saying, I love you.
Rain
because it reminds me of you.
your my favorite
you confess, to your favorite person.
• blurb •
Dear, Bias
Losing You
Find You
Royal Flush
♪ song based writing ♪
this is what heartbreak feels like
this is what sadness feels like
this is what losing someone feels like
this is what autumn feels like
// poems //
I’ll mail the shattered pieces of my heart to you if you only asked.
words I never got to tell him because we don’t talk anymore.
do you love the rain? please love the rain.
hearts of flowers
Moodboards
blue
bucket hats
It’s the little things.
match made
sunsets
photography
[] i n p r o c e s s o f w r i t i n g []
_w a i t i n g _
coffee order
you’re the barista at a coffee shop and always screws up your crush’s name on purpose.
+
Jisung hates coffee, but goes to a coffee shop and drinks some just so they can see (Y/n), who works there.
Cupid’s Chokehold
Extravaganza
It was supposed to be like any ordinary day, but things never go according to plan. Ambushed and assaulted by a rival group, other wise known as Sanzu Haruchiyo was found bleeding out on your front door step. But the last thing he ever expected was, to catch feelings and all the emplucations that would soon follow because of it. Especially since you were his bosses’ diseased older brother’s women. But he can’t help feeling a certain type of way towards you.
Fairytale
My Starry Sky
They say time apart makes the heart grow fonder but is that really the case after years of miscommunication and silence. You encounter one another again in a unexpected way and many different situations arise.
Queen of Curses
She’ll get retribution on those who forsaken her, one way or another. She’ll have no problem cursing those she finds repulsive; and distasteful. With just a single glance, you’re cursed. Death is but a luxury when your within her grasp. She’ll make you pay three-fold, regardless of your transaction. She’s the embodiment of hate and death, after all. The queen of curses they called her.
Side Effects
It was supposed to be like any ordinary day, but things never go according to plan. You were driving back home late one night when you suffered a collision on the highway. Due to the heavy rain and slippery roads an accident occurs, that leaves you suffering from memory loss. But the last thing you ever expected was, the emplucations that would soon follow because of it.
Villain
Sometimes you have to make peace with the fact that you are a villain in someone else’s story, even if you thought you were doing the right thing. You don’t get to tell them how to narrate their experience. There are no hero’s without villains and there are both in each of us. What is good? What is bad? Everyone does what they have to do, in order to survive and of course (Y/n) was no exception.
Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform. This work belongs to @somemydayy
Autumn was her happiest season. Leaves changing different colors in the trees. Hot chocolate, and movie nights with s'mores. Pumpkin patch outings in matching scarfs. Corn mazes, and treasure hunting in the autumn breeze.
Every time she would gaze out her window, and see the brightly colored trees lose their green and be replaced with a multitude of colors rivaling the shades of the setting sun a deep longing would be rooted within her.
Apple pie, and ice cream was something she secretly indulged on particularly chilling days, as she was wrapped snuggly in her pajamas, fluffy socks, and snuggly fleece blankets. She was made for autumn, and Everything in autumn was perfect to her; from the way the weather grew chill as the days pass by, the crisp mornings, the slight chill in her fingers, the warmth in a coffee shop as the smell of cinnamon rolls runs throughout the air, the way her hair would tousled in the breeze, and how she would cozy up with a knitted scarf whenever she would venture out into chill weather. Hugs and warm embraces were simply the loveliest part of fall. The warmth that came with handmade knitted sweaters, and freshly baked cookies she indulged herself in.
The weather was a mix of late autumn fall, and of mid October chill. Her exposed cheeks, as well as the top of her nose had turned a slight shade of pink due to the harsh cold breeze. Her gaze lingered on the falling tree leaves, as her lips glazed over her slightly dried up lips. Suddenly as if broken from her trance, she looked up as a throat clearing ripples out in the cold afternoon breeze. A tall figure stood in front of her, a splash of coffee colored hair lay on top of his head, framing his features. Her eyes filled with warmth as she looked back at a pair of milk chocolate-colored hues she came to look forward to seeing.
The barista’s locks were a hue, an almost perfect color that held a bit of playfulness to him, soft and cheeky. He was always with a quick witted grin followed by a chipper greeting whenever he heard the doorbell chime; signaling the arrival of a old and new patrons. A connoisseur of delectable coffee beans, roasted, blended, pressed and mixed. Coffee maker.
He lets out a soft smile when he sees them. Those bright and cheerful eyes that held a gleeful spark within their beautiful hues. A magnificent shimmering of their cascading locks, that seemed to tangle around their pointer finger in a dwindling motion. The slight curve of their smile in glee, and the joyous laughter that followed always made his heart swoon.
She returns like autumn, and he falls every time.
As they walked towards the exit of their favorite coffee shop, they glanced down at their coffee cup.
YOUR BEAUTIFUL ♡
I would say, you're like the first autumn fall leaves, like the sound of the fall breeze. The leaves flow and change of color of the trees leaves. A mesmerizing effect of warmth and coziness you embrace. A beautiful view of nature, warm and stunning. My beautiful Autumn breeze.
Was written in place of their name. They glanced back, and their eyes meet.
We feel in love in October.
That’s why I love fall.
She smiles at him, and a knowing look is shared between them, See you later.
But it was her eyes that told wonders, all the words left unspoken. It was those autumn colored orbs that pulled them in. Those amber pools that made us fall in love.
He was falling for her and she was falling for him.
golden cage and silver wings - TargtowerReader x Cregan Stark
summary: Your family is defeated. Your brothers are dead, the throne lost. And you are given away by your half-sister like a prize to her allies. Cregan Stark, the Wolf of the North. A harsh, ruthless man, as cold as the North he rules. A life sentence for you. However, everything turns out differently than expected.
words: 7.457
warnings: arranged marriage, angst, death family, brief thought of suicide, Cregan is a good man
Part 1/2 4 (ups) // Part 2
a/n: no use of Y/N// Reader has Targaryen features// English is not my first language// not proofread
requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist/AO3// fic masterlist
You sit in your chambers by the window, looking down at the courtyard of the Red Keep. You watch as people run from one side to another, the normal bustle reigns. You can't muster any enthusiasm for the lively activity. You have spent your whole life here, but the feeling of home vanished long ago. Ever since your half-sister Rhaenyra usurped the throne from your brother, you have been imprisoned in your childhood chambers. You can't think about it for long without tears welling up in your eyes.
Your brothers are dead. Your nephews are dead. Your entire family was killed in this war. Your dragon was slayed by an angry mob of smallvolks. You sat by this very window as you watched as Aegon was beheaded after being brought here from Dragonstone. You are separated from your mother, you don't even know if she is still alive. Would Rhaenyra kill you too?
They have taken almost all your belongings: your jewelry, your harp, no writing paper, no ink or quill, no embroidery. Only a few books remain. You shiver slightly. Your are cold despite the crackling fireplace. Not even dragonfire could dispel the chill within you.
Your days bleed into each other, you find no joy in the stories in your books, no inspiration to sing. You would rather cry all day long. You barely touch the meals brought to you three times a day.
Gone is the joy of the court, your brothers, flying through the Crownlands on dragonsback, dancing, music, playing chess with Aemond, hours-long walks with Helaena and the twins in your rose garden, celebrating and drinking with Aegon down in the city. You receive no visitors. Even your ladies-in-waiting, your friends, have been taken away from you.
Your old, happy life is lost forever. You try to be strong. However, the longer you sit into your chambers, the deeper you sink into your agony. The reality of your life is dull. Locked away, alone and in grief. The world outside blurs as tears well up in your eyes.
If only you knew if your mother is alright. If Rhaenyra would give you the chance, you would fall to your knees before her, begging for just five minutes with your mother. But your half-sister refuses to see you.
You hear the lock click. Don't bother to turn around. The guard at your door is a stranger. Your sworn shield Sir Rosby is presumably dead as well.
"Princess." you don't react, continuing to stare out the window, unable to see anything clearly. "The Queen wishes to speak with you."
You close your eyes, take a deep breath before you rise. Without a word, ignoring the guard altogether, you walk past him and out of the door. It's the first time in weeks that you left your chambers. Even though you hate being locked up, with every step you take through the familiar corridors your stomach clenches painfully. Memories hunt you with every step. You suppress the urge to wipe your sweaty hands on your skirt. The dark fabric is soft, yet you despise the dress. No elaborate embroidery, no golden dragon patterns woven into the fabric, no green fabric. Rhaenyra has taken all of that from you. Your long, blond braid feels too light without your jewelry. The people openly stare at you, whispering.You stare ahead stubbornly as fear tries to overwhelm you. Are you walking to your own execution?
Before the throne room, you pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and straighten your back.
Your half-sister can take your jewelry, your beautiful clothes, your happiness, your friends and your belongings. But not your pride. You recall all the lessons your mother taught you and force your emotionless mask onto your face.
The large double doors open. You enter the throne room, staring straight ahead. If you are going to die, you will die with dignity. You will not let them see your fear. Rhaenyra sits on your brother's throne, dressed in an elaborately crafted black and red gown. Your father's crown rests on her head, her gaze fixed on you. You can't read her expression as you stand in front of her. The throne room is deathly silent, your heart pounding in your chest. Your guard clears his throat slightly behind you. You force yourself to curtsy without lowering your gaze. "Your Grace." her nostrils flare slightly, her fingers digging into the throne. Only now do you allow your gaze to sweep across the room. Daemon stands beside the throne, his hand resting on his sword hilt, stares at you with pure hate. You recognize Lord Corlys, a few other Lords, every single one of them is a traitor. Then your eyes fall upon your mother.Tears well up in your eyes at the sight of her. She appears unharmed, her clothes clean, her hair neatly tied back. However her eyes are empty, sad, her cheeks a little sunken.
"Mother." your mask falls without your control.You body moves before you can form a clear through, want to run to her and throw yourself in her arms to weep bitterly.
Your guard's hand closes around your arm, holding you back. You flinch because of the pain. You want to break free, hit the man behind you, curse. You would love to kill them all. Rage burns beneath your skin. Rhaenyra looks from you to your mother. You expect her to laugh at you.Instead, a shadow crosses her expression.
“Let them.”
Your guard releases you. You start running, your mother starts moving too, and you fall into her embrace. You cling to her. Her arms close around you and you bury your face in the crook of her neck. You can't stop a soft sob. "Mother," you manage to say. She gently strokes your neck, just as she always did when you were sad. Strangely, it calms you a little, the nausea inside you eases.
"Shh, my little girl." her voice trembles too, but she pulls you even closer. She kisses your tear-stained cheeks.
"Princess." Rhaenyra's voice echoes through the room. Reluctantly you step back from your mother. Alicent reaches for your cold hand. Squeeze it tightly. You take a deep breath, drawing strength from your mother's presence. She is alive. You are alive. But for how much longer?
You muster all your strength, knowing what you have to do. You manage to keep your voice from trembling as you force the words over your lips. "Thank you for seeing me. Sister." you try to smile.
Daemon laughs. You don't even look at him. He killed your brother. For that, he will burn in the seventh hell.
Rhaenyra nods. "My sweet sister. Your mother has already sworn her loyalty to me. Now it's your turn."
Your brother is the true king. You swallow all your anger. Your life is so dreary. Why do you even fight? For your mother? For yourself? You don't even know. But the thought of dying makes you tremble. So you sink to your knees.
"I am loyal to you, my Queen. You are the true heir. Please forgive me for my crimes against you and our house," you say. The words taste bitter in your mouth, but you maintain your expressionless face.
Rhaenyra nods, seemingly satisfied. "I forgive you, sweet sister. After all, you are of royal blood, a princess. I welcome you back into our family and trust in your loyalty." you are sure the smile on her lips is fake. But she wouldn't forgive you if she wanted to kill you, would she? Elegant as you have been all your life, you rise again and stand beside your mother. Head held high, didn't look around. These traitors don´t even deserve a gaze from you. Rhaenyra addresses the assembled Lords and Ladies. "Loyalty is important." her voice is firm, her gaze proud. But you see through her facade. She is no queen. She just plays pretend. "And loyalty is rewarded. In my darkest hour, you lords and ladies stood by me to fight for my birthright. When the citizens of King's Landing, blinded by the lies of the usurper, turned against us, one stood out above all others: Lord Cregan Stark." the lords and ladies applaud. One of the men beside the Iron Throne, presumably Cregan Stark, nods slightly. He seems uncomfortable with the sudden attention as he scans the room with his stormy gray eyes. "To celebrate this loyalty and in eternal gratitude, I offer a union between our two houses. House Stark and House Targaryen, bound by marriage and blood. With a heavy heart, I give you my sister's hand in marriage."
You gasp in shock, feeling the blood drain from your face. A knot forms in your stomach as you swallow the rising acid. Your vision blurs. You lean on your mother to keep your balance. She can't do this! Your mother squeezes your hand, her expression cold. Your gaze returns to Lord Stark.
He looks at you and offers the faintest hint of a smile. He knew. Did he demand it? Claim you as a price? A way to take revenge on your brother for the war?
"Your Grace- " you begin, wanting to beg her not to do this. You suddenly sound like a whiny toddler.
Your so-called sister, who is more of a stranger to you, doesn't let you get a word in. "Lord Stark has expressed the wish to return to the North soon. The North needs its Warden, after all." she gives her ally a smile. "The wedding will take place tomorrow” with these words, she rises and walks out of the throne room. You stare after her, fighting back your tears.
A wave of panic washes over you. You can't look at Lord Stark. You can't look into the face of your future jailer.
Your guard approaches, reaching for your arm again. You take a step away, closer to your mother, but she can´t offer comfort.
"Can she do this?" you whisper, still struggling to stay on your weak legs. You hate yourself for your trembling voice. You want to curse and scream, to run away.
"Yes," whispers your mother, squeezing your hand again.
"Princess." your guard's voice is irritated. "It's time for you to return to your chambers."
"My mother will accompany me." you lift your head, glaring at him with all the hatred you feel.
"The Queen Dowager will come to your chambers tomorrow morning," he says, reaching for your arm once more. His grip is so tight you are sure you get a bruise.
"Go," your mother whispers. You fight back tears as her hand slips from yours. You pull your arm free. You won't break here, you won't let yourself be humiliated like this. You are a princess. Even if the queen has just sold you like cattle. With your head held high, you leave the throne room again. You try to control your breathing as your thoughts begin to spiral.
Rhaenyra has thought of this cruel punishment for you. You will freeze to death in the cold north, among strangers. At the mercy of your husband. You recall his image. He is tall, broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones, and dark curls, a longsword strapped to his back. A warrior through and through.
You barely register your surroundings, flinching as the door slams shut behind you and the lock clicks shut. You sink back into your seat by the window. Only now do you allow tears to stream down your face. You sob, not even trying to be quiet. Your whole body trembles, you can barely get enough air into your lungs.
Gods, your nightmare has just become the seventh hell.
Why doesn't she just kill you? You would rather lose your head in the courtyard than slowly wither away in the cold North.
Would he torture you? Beat you? Scream at you? Lock you up in the cold Winterfell and only visit you for his own entertainment? Would you even live to see the next winter?
Black, cold walls fill your thoughts. Winterfell is surely dark and cold. Imprisoned in a white hell with no way out. This isn't how your life was supposed to be. You were supposed to enjoy the pleasures of court, with your family, happy in the Keep. Now your future is even darker than it was this morning. Tomorrow you won't be a princess anymore, you will be Lady Stark. In the cold North, with a cruel husband.
You stare down into the courtyard. For a moment, you consider taking the same path your sister Helaena took. You blink. No! You can't do that to your mother. She can't lose another child. You and Jaehaera are all she has left.
Gods, you will never see your mother again. She would be here in the clutches of your enemies while you are far away in the North, in the clutches of the wolf.
Your dark thoughts give you no peace. All sorts of horrific scenarios race through your mind. You don't even try to sleep, and when the sun rises the next morning, you feel like you have to vomit. Someone brings you breakfast, but you feel far too sick to eat anything. Your body feels as if you've fallen from your dragon, or drank all of Aegon's wine and then fought Aemond in a sword fight. Your heart aches. Tears well up in your eyes once more. You are surprised that you still have tears left. The courtyard fills again with lords, and ladies. It can't distract you.
Your door gets unlock again, and you hear someone enter your chamber. However, you don't want to get up from your seat. You don't even bother to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Can't even bring yourself to be upset about the disrespect of someone entering your chamber uninvited. Nothing matters anymore.
"My little girl." your mother's voice trembles slightly. You whirl around. She gives you a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. You jump up, run to her and fall back into her arms. You have missed her so much, and soon you'll have to say goodbye to her forever. Your heart clenches painfully.
"Mother, please save me," you whisper, unable to stop your sobs from breaking out.
"I can't," she replies softly.
"Your spies, Lord Strong might - "
"He's dead. We have no allies left, my sweetest girl."
You don't want to accept the truth, you shake your head. She strokes your cheek, but only more and more tears keep flowing.
Without a knock, the door opens again, and guards and maids enter the chambers. Apparently, your private chambers haven't been private for a long time.
"The Queen has had a dress made for you for the wedding," says one of the ladies, beckoning a page forward. He's carrying a cream-colored dress.
You swallow a snide remark. How long has Rhaenyra been planning your downfall?
You look at the pale dress, disliking the cut. The skirt is too wide for your taste. A red, three-headed dragon is embroidered on the back. You hate it. "I want a different dress."
"The Queen chose it," says the maid, smiling. She, too, is a stranger to you. You want to scream at her and curse her out, but you know it's not her fault. You look back at your mother.
"But I don't want it." you feel like stamping your foot on the floor like a small child.
"Don't fight, my child. Conserve your strength," she says, kissing your forehead. Then she turns to the guards. "A little privacy," she hisses.
"We have strict orders to stay here."
"Wait outside the door." she almost sounds like the queen she once was. Gods, how you long for those times. You were safe and happy.
To your surprise, the two guards leave your chambers. They will presumably wait outside the door. No escape for you.
You take a deep breath, resign yourself to your fate, and sit down in the seat in front of the mirror. The ladies get to work. They begin braiding your long blonde hair into elaborate braids. You look in the mirror. Sad eyes gaze back at you as tears stream down your cheeks again. Your mother sits down beside you and takes your hand. You wish she would comfort you, but you also know there are no words that could lighten your heart now. You miss the time when you thought you would be killed every day, you would prefer that.
"What do you know about him?" you ask, unwilling to say his name.
"Lord Cregan Stark," your mother begins, not even trying to remove the hate from her voice. "He fought well in this war. He crushed the Smallfolk rebellion before they could take over the Keep. Tracked down and executed Aegon's allies, helping Rhaenyra secure her throne." She sighs softly. "She asked him to be her Hand."
Hope rises within you. Perhaps you wouldn't die in the cold North after all."So we'll stay here."
Alicent squeezes your hand, smiling bravely at you. "No," she replies. "He refused. He wants to go home."
You swallow your disappointment. "And that's why he'll take my home away from me." tears stream from your eyes again. Your mother leans forward, gently wiping the tears from your cheek.
"Yes, that's how it is for women like us." she sounds more tired than you've ever heard her. Your insides clench painfully. You look at your trembling hands in your lap, then back into the mirror. The rubies in your headpiece reflect the light with every movement, but they can't distract from your appearance. You barely recognize yourself. You're pale, your cheeks sunken, your eyes red and swollen from all the crying. One of the maids gently pinches your cheeks to give you a little color. Not even the tinctures and colors they paint you with can prevent you from looking like a ghost. You feel like a doll as you're being helped into your dress. Even dressed, you don't like it any better. It wouldn't matter what the dress looked like, you'd hate it anyway. You hate everything about this day.
"You look beautiful, my child." You glance over at your mother. Your heart breaks at the sight of her. This is the woman who always fought for you and your brothers, who risked everything for you, for your safety. And now there's no fight left. She's broken. You have to swallow back tears again.
Alicent comes closer to you, takes your cold hands in hers. "Tonight," she begins, and you feel sick because you know exactly what she's getting at. "Don't resist. Let him do what he must do."
You shake your head. No! Your mother may have no fight left inside, but you do. You won't let this monster break you, you won't simply let your punishment befall you. "Never," you say.
Your mother sighs deeply. "It's better this way. You can't stop him. It's less painful if you don't fight. Believe me. Do your duty. Bear him a child. You will love your children. That love will make you strong. Makes it bearable."
You want to contradict her, but a knock at the door makes you jump. "It seems the time has come." although your voice is weak, you manage to straighten your shoulders, drying your tears. No one will see your tears. Lord Stark won't see your tears. He can't break you, ever. "Will you ride with me in the carriage?" you want to spend every last moment you have with your mother.
"You will be married in the Godswood. In tradition of the old goods. Only the Small Council and the Queen will be present."
Another humiliation. You have no idea about northern traditions or the old goods. Your wedding should be a lavish celebration, before all the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms. There should be dancing and a grand banquet. As it's fit for a princess like you. Not a small ceremony in the Godswood.
"Of course." a hysterical laugh escapes your throat. You put your hand over your mouth. Your mother pulls you into a tight hug.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers in your ear.
"Don't worry about me," you say, trying to ease her pain a little.
Another loud knock, this time more forceful. Should you wait until they drag you from your chambers? It would only be painful for you. You suppress a sigh. You long for your old life as you resign yourself to your fate. Perhaps for the last time, you leave your chambers. Fittingly, you also leave behind your old life, your happy life.
Your mother is right by your side. You can't imagine what your life will be like without her. As you walk through the keep, you feel like you're on a funeral march Yet you hold your head high.
The walls surrounding the Goodswood seem like prison walls to you. A few lights had been hung in the treetops, but even their twinkling couldn't cheer you up.
Lord Corlys awaited you beyond the entrance. "It is my honor to give you to your husband Princess." he smiled kindly, but you didn't believe him for a second.
Your mother opened her mouth in protest. You squeezed her hand, swallowing this further humiliation. You took a deep breath, forcing a blank expression onto your face. You want to rage and scream. You fought back the tears. None of these traitors would ever see you cry.
"Lord Corlys," you said, without even lowering your gaze. He wouldn't get that respect from you. Your mother walked past the assembled lords with her head held high, taking her place at the very front.
You took another deep breath, straightening your shoulders. Lord Corlys offered you his arm. You want to spit in his face. However, you allow him to lead you down the narrow path. You look ahead for the first time.
Before the Heart Tree stands your future husband, Lord Cregan Stark, dressed in festive silk. His belt is adorned with a direwolf's head, but he carries no sword, and black furs are draped over his shoulders. You allow yourself a moment to look at him. His dark curls fall across his forehead, his beard is clean-shaven, his face has sharp contours, and his cheekbones are high. Upright posture and broad shoulders, he exudes a certain authority and calm. His eyes are grey, like storm clouds.
You have to admit, he is beautiful. A beautiful beast that will tear you into pieces.
Lord Corlys gives your hand to your future husband. His hand is warm, the grip surprisingly gentle as your hand disappears into his. He gives you a soft smile.
"Princess." his voice is deep and pleasant. "You look beautiful."
You maintain your expressionless face, turning away from him to look at the septon. You always thought that didn't exist in nordic traditions. But you are not sure. Lessons about Westeros were always boring for you.
Nausea rises in you as your hands are wrapped in a golden cloth. You stutter over the words, struggling to hold your voice firm. A shadow crosses Lord Stark's face, his gray eyes looking down at you, and you fear his wrath. You will not cry! You will not humiliate yourself like this. He will not see your suffering. You will not break before Lord Stark. As he drapes the grey cloak with the direwolf on its back around your, you flinch from his touch, the soft fur of the collar tickling your skin. You want to scream and cry. To tear the cloak from your shoulders and run as far away as you can. You can't move an inch. Lord Stark's gaze flickers across your face, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. You can't read his expression. Your lips touch for only half a heartbeat. It's not even a real kiss and you are glad about this. However, his lips are surprisingly soft, his touch gentle. Not like the harsh claim on you you have expected.
You hear cheering, but it's a lie. You look at your mother,tears well up in her eyes. Yet she smiles at you.
Bravely, you raise your chin, trying to appear as confident as possible, even though you desperately want to collapse in tears. You are bound to him forever now. You are no longer a Targaryen princess, but Lady Stark.
Rhaenyra gives you a fake smile. You want to scratch her eyes out. Hatred rises within you.
A banquet has been prepared in the throne room. You can't eat a bite. Your husband, sitting beside you, is also picking at his food. You try not to look at him. You have to restrain yourself from shifting restlessly in your chair. You wish you were far, far away. The lords and ladies of Rhaenyra's court are chatting happy, the queen is calling for dancing, the music is joyful. You reach for your goblet of wine in front of you, your arm brushing against his. You feel his gaze on you, but you just keep staring straight ahead. Your neck aches from the heavy hair ornament on your head, but you remain still, your posture upright.
How you used to love the feasts in the Keep. You danced until your feet hurt. Gods, your old life feels so far away. You want to go back to your chambers, lock yourself in and cry. Maybe you should have jumped out the window after all. But now it's too late. You're bound to the monster beside you. How would he torture you? You swallow acid. You take another large gulp. Could you drink enough to make the pain bearable?
"A dance, Princess?" Lord Stark reaches for your hand, you pull it away.
"I don't dance Lord Stark," you say without looking at him. It's a lie, and you both know it. Your husband sighs.
"Cregan," he says suddenly, his voice almost gentle. Your head jerks toward him.
"What?" you ask, then bite your lip.
"I am your husband. Please call me Cregan."
You don't want that. It makes him human, but he's a monster. A monster who will be your end. You nod slightly. You'll never speak to him anyway.
Daemon's laughter echoes through the throne room. He raises his goblet, grinning wickedly at you. Monster, murderer, asshole. You want to kill him. You want to kill Lord Stark. "Time for the bedding ceremony," calls the Prince Consort.
You almost drop your goblet. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You look for your mother's eyes. She can't save you. You feel sick at the thought of those strange hands tearing your hated gown from your body. And then you'll be alone with Lord Stark. Panic takes your breath away. Fear of the pain. You wouldn't give up without a fight, he'll have to force you. He can surely break every bone in your body. Would he do this just for fun? Would he take pleasure in your suffering?
"No bedding ceremony!" your husband rises from his seat so suddenly you flinch. Daemon and a few of the lords around him begin to boo. Cregan's hand clenches into a fist. "No discussion." his voice is stern, allowing no argument.
"As Lord Stark wishes." Rhaenyra raises her hand, the lords and Daemon fall silent.
"Princess." Cregan offers you your hand. You look from his hand to his face, he smiles at you comfortingly ? It lightens your heart a little. You blink, not wanting to be lulled into false trust. This man is your jailer, your downfall. He would take you from your home to the cold, desolate North.
You rise, ignoring his hand. You're not entirely sure if he sighed or if you imagined it. Beside your new husband, you leave the throne room, hearing the footsteps of guards behind you, but you don't turn around, forcing yourself forward with each step. You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirt, the knot in your stomach pulling painfully. You notice your mouth going dry. The corridors of the keep aren't long enough. Your thoughts spiral, and you wish you were far, far away. Memories of your brothers and sister haunt you at every turn. You reach the guest chambers, and as the door clicks shut behind you, you're alone with the monster.
Cregan moves across the room, removes his cloak, and slips out of his heavy boots. The fireplace is lit, the flames reflecting off the blade of his dagger as he draws it. You froze,thoughts racing. Is he going to just kill you here and now?
"Don't fight," your mother's voice echoes in your head. No! This man was forced upon you, you were given away. As a price. Not a princess, but a reward for the murder of your family. Your heart pounds in your chest. You hear your own fast breathing. No, you won't let yourself be given away so easily. You won't surrender without a fight. You won't simply let yourself be broken.
Instead of attacking you he goes to the bed with the snow white sheets. Acid rises in your throat. He cuts his own hand, lets a few drops of blood drop on the sheets. You watch him confused as he wipes his dagger and then places it on the table.
"You are not in the right headspace for marital duties, Princess," he says. His words don't help with your confusion. “But nobody needs to know." his tone is light, as if you were old friends joking around.
Your gaze is fixed on the dagger. Your body is already moving before you can even form a clear thought. Lunges for the dagger. However Cregan is faster, whirling around to face you. His hand grips your wrist tightly, while his other hand closes around your throat, though he doesn't squeeze. You gasp in shock and freeze. If he wants, you'll be dead in a minute. If he kills you, you would be free of this misery. Better a quick death than a slow, agonizing death. Cregan's gaze flickers across your face. His grip on you loosens.
"You wouldn't even make it down the hall, Princess." his voice sounds almost amused. You try to break free from his grasp, and to your surprise, he lets go. You take three steps back, out of his reach. Tears well up in your eyes, but you fight. You don't want to break. You can't stop your body trembling. He'll kill you, or worse.
"I hate you." you scream angrily, feeling like a small child. You're so angry at Rhaenyra, angry at your father, at Aegon, at everyone, at the whole world. You cross your arms, glaring at him as if he were responsible for all the suffering that has befallen your family and you.You want to beat him, kill him.
"I know," he says, sounding sad? No, that can't be. Cregan runs his hand over his face. He suddenly seems older than he is. Still handsome. You quickly shake the thought off. His gaze is fixed on you, as if he's aware of every move you make. "You should know that it wasn't my wish to take you as my wife."
You blink. What? You thought this was his revenge on your family. You take another step back, feeling the wall at your back. You feel like a caged animal. You are trapped. You search his expression for the lie he's obviously feeding you. However, his eyes are warm, his features relaxed, even though just two minutes ago you were trying to stab him with his own weapon. You snort contemptuously, refusing to believe him. He wants revenge. To lull you into a false sense of security, only to intensify your pain when he betrays you.
"Liar." you almost spit the words out. Your mother would curse if she saw how unprincess-like you're behaving right now.
Cregan chuckles softly, a warm sound. "I am many things, my lady, but a liar is none of it." you frown. He seems so honest, so completely different from the lords and ladies you know from the Keep. No treacherous shadow in his eyes. Your breath comes a little easier. Still refuse to let your guards down. This is surely a wicked game. Cregan takes a step toward you, you flinch, your back slamming against the wall. He raises his hands disarmingly, stops. Your hands clench the soft fabric of your skirt, trying to hide your trembling. You can't believe him. His stormy grey eyes are fixed on you. You can't read his emotions. You don't know if you're angering him, if you should anger him. You swallow hard and try to ignore the painful knot inside you. You're going to die anyway. He will be your downfall. "You don't have to be afraid of me."
Another lie from his mouth, but his voice is gentle, almost as if he's speaking to a frightened deer. Before he slaughters it?
"I'm not afraid." you try to maintain your composure, but the way Cregan's lips twitch, the way he shifts his weight slightly, tells you that you're failing.
"Of course not." his gaze sweeps from you across the room. For a split second, you consider trying to escape, but he's probably right, and you wouldn't even make it down the hall before the queen's soldiers caught you.
Your thoughts are racing. What is he playing? Is he lying to you? What if he isn't? If he didn't want you as a reward for his actions in the war, why did he marry you? It makes absolutely no sense to you.
Cregan moves through the chambers, goes to the table to pour two cups of wine. He pushes one slightly toward you. You narrow your eyes. Is he trying to poison you? Gods, your head aches.
"Why did you do it?" the words escape your lips before you can stop them, your voice trembling far too much. Cregan raises an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that you're asking him a question. "Married me," you clarify.
"The alternative would have been your death. Many of the lords on the Small Council wanted you dead, my lady. So Rhaenyra suggested sending you as far away as possible. So she proposed our union."
Now you're certain he's lying. Of course he's lying. How could you have thought for even a second that he was being honest with you?
"She publicly humiliated me." she forced you to fall to your knees to renounce your brother, to betray your real family.
"She wanted to forgive you. It had to be public," Cregan states. You snort contemptuously. “So she can give you a chance to survive your treason.”
"I'd rather die than be in your clutches." you feel tears welling up in your eyes again, your throat tightens. You want to curse him out.
Cregan closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a sip from his cup before slumping into the chair at the table. He gestures to the chair opposite him. You don't move an inch from the wall.
"Rhaenyra isn't a monster princess." you snort again. Liar. "She just doesn't want you here in the Keep. You can't stay here. The Lords are already furious that she hasn't killed you. This marriage is your chance to live."
"So she's dumping me in the worst place she can imagine. She wants revenge."
His jaw clenches. "The North is my home. It's beautiful there."
"Of course. Ice, snow, and cold. I can't imagine anything better." maybe you shouldn't upset him any further. Shouldn't insult his home. But your tongue is faster than your brain.
"Winterfell isn't cold. It's warm, and the people are open and kind. Not so many snakes and liars." you can't believe that's true.
"Of course, your lords will be thrilled. My brother is the reason you waged war instead of preparing for winter," you hiss. You sound like a petulant child, trying to make a point without evidence.
"My lords don't care about your fight over an iron chair." he shrugs.
It feels like he had punched you. Your whole body tenses in pain. Your brothers are dead. Your nephews are dead. Your sister is dead. All for the Iron Throne. And he dismisses it as if it doesn't matter. Because it doesn't matter to anyone anymore. Your family died for nothing, you've lost. This washes over you like a storm. Tears burn in your eyes and you can't suppress a sob, you put a hand over your mouth. Your facade crumbles and you can no longer hold back your tears. You hear the chair scrape across the floor and suddenly Cregan is standing right in front of you. You flinch. He raises his hand to wipe the tear from your cheek, but you pull away.
"Don't touch me," you manage, barely able to get enough air into your lungs. To your surprise Cregan actually takes a step back as you try to regain your composure. A losing battle. Your reality crashes down on you. You have no one left, no one to protect you. Separated from your mother, bound to a stranger. Who might not be the monster you thought he was. Or a monster who plays a wicked game with you.
"Princess." you don't react, you can only cry, trying to control your trembling. Cregan says your name so gently that you're sure you imagined it. "Please look at me." you raise your gaze, looking directly into his eyes. He looks at you with concern. "I'm sorry," he apologizes.
Your thoughts race, grief and confusion mix within you as you try to find some meaning in it all. You have to blink. You don't understand. You don't understand your own feelings. This morning you thought he was your downfall, but now he looks at you as if your tears are breaking his heart. You take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, to put your mask back on, but you only half succeed. You wipe your own tears from your cheek. "My family is dead because of this iron chair. My dragon is dead," you say, and once again you're struck by the emptiness her death has left inside you, as another sob washes over you.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there in time to prevent this." he sounds sincere. All your instincts, everything you learned during your life in the Keep, screams that you can believe him. "And I didn't mean to dismiss your brothers' deaths as unimportant. You must have loved them very much."
You nod. "Yes, I did." you lean weakly against the wall behind you, more tears streaming down your cheeks as your heart aches. "I miss them terribly," you admit. Then you shrug. "I suppose you don't care."
"No. Princess, you are my wife now. I made a vow, and now your well-being is my highest priority."
You don't understand him. You don't understand why he's doing all this. "Why?"
"Because Rhaenyra asked me to. Because you are innocent, you didn't fight in this war. You don't deserve to die the way the other lords want you to. And because I don't want you to drown in your grief. I know you hate me. I understand. But it doesn't have to be like this. You have no reason to trust me, Princess, but I intend to earn that trust." you frown. He gives you a slight smile. "Please sit with me." he extends his large hand. You look from his hand to his face and then back to his outstretched hand. Should you trust him? Can you really trust in his words? What would the alternative be? To fight against him, against this marriage, against everything? Not that there's any other way out for you. Your old life has been lost for a long time. Probably since the moment Aegon was crowned. Your brain is slowly beginning to grasp reality. You look into his face, his eyes, the faint smile on his lips. He doesn't want to destroy you. Doesn't want to fight. Could it be true that he's saving you simply because he's a good man? Is he lulling you into a false sense of security only to betray you later?
But why would he do that? You're at his mercy anyway. He could have forced you to be his the second you step into this champers. Instead, he wants to talk. Not argue. Not hurt you. He's offering you a way out of your misery. A path other than death.
Hesitantly, you take his hand. He gently takes it, leads you to the small table, and pulls out the chair for you. Like a proper Lord. You sit down, reach for the goblet of wine and empty it in a few sips. The sweet drink warms you from within. Cregan sits down opposite you, now seeming a little more relaxed. You don't understand him. You can't believe he means what he says. Yet there's no tension in his features. Stormy grey eyes gaze gently at you.
"I didn't fight because I wanted to stay with Helaena. After Jaehaerys died, she was unwell. Not because I didn't want to fight. I'm not as innocent as you think." the words come over your lips before you can stop yourself. Don't feel the need to lie to him.
Cregan nods, pours you more wine before taking a sip himself. "Still no reason for you to deserve death."
You laugh joylessly. "I wished for death." a shadow flits across your husband's face. Pity. You don't want his pity. His pity probably saved your life. "I thought you were going to torture me. That you want revenge."
"I'm not that kind of man, Princess.” maybe he really isn't. Maybe Rhaenyra really isn't the monster you thought she was. You avoid his gaze, looking down at your hands. They're no longer trembling. “I hope we can have a pleasant life. I want to be a good husband to you.”
"So we'll travel north tomorrow." you finally resign yourself to your fate. You decide to take him by his word. He said he is a good man. Wants to be a good husband. And you're no longer a princess, but Lady Stark. And maybe this isn't the death sentence you thought it would be.
"Yes, your things are already packed. My affairs are settled. We'll leave early tomorrow morning."
"Can I say goodbye to my mother?" you ask.
"Of course. You can write her letters, too. Maybe she can come and visit us sometime." your heart leaps. "So you can smile." he says suddenly. You hadn't even noticed.
"She'll be able to visit us?"
"If she don't plan against the Queen, she'll surely allow it. Rhaenyra still thinks fondly of the friendship that they once had.”
You feel as if a weight has been lifted from your heart. Your next breath is easier. Your mother is not in danger. You can hardly believe it. You feel a glimmer of hope. Perhaps false hope, but you don't care right now. You have no strength left. You smile again.
"Thank you, Cregan."
He smiles back at you, and you notice once again how handsome he is. Cregan's hand twitches as if he wants to reach for yours. He doesn't and you're glad he doesn't, unsure how you would have reacted.
"I'm sorry I wasn't a good bride today.You deserved better."
Cregan chuckled warmly. "I expected you to cry all day."
You shrugged. "I'm not that weak." you lifted your chin slightly, regaining a bit of your pride.
"I believe you immediately." he leaned back in his chair, seemingly relaxed. You were trying to come to terms with this new reality. You had been locked in the Keep for weeks, and tomorrow you would simply be able to ride through the open gates. You would be able to see your mother. Tears welled up in your eyes again. "Please don't cry again." he sat up a little.
"I just didn't expect to survive this evening unscathed. I imagined the worst, but I didn't count with you being so kind," you admitted openly, still can't believe its really happening.
"I will never lay a hand on you, Princess. Never force myself upon you. You will be free in Winterfell. And maybe, someday, happy too.”
Hope flickers in your heart. You don't know if you'll ever truly be happy again. But you're getting your life and your freedom back. That's more than you expected. You reach for your cup and take a sip of wine. "Tell me about Winterfell, please."
Summary: You and Aegon have been married for several years and while you are happy with him and your children, you long to feel the cold winds of the north again- your home. When a letter from an old friend reaches you, you convince your husband to see the snow covered lands for himself. Unfortunately, Aegon was a jealous man and Cregan Stark was far too happy to see you again.
Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Wife!Reader, (unrequited) Cregan Stark x Reader
Word count: 7427 words
Warnings: Reader is female and is from House Karstark, arranged marriage, brief talks of smut, suggestive themes, jealousy, angst, a bit of fluff here and there, it’s briefly mentioned that the Reader had an abusive childhood, aegon being a good dad, no mention of Y/N
Notes: This didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, but I hope you’ll like it still! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛.
The soft moon light fell through the high windows of your marital chambers in the Red Keep, casting gentle shadows into the room that served as the nursery. Aegon Targayen, second of his name, sat at the edge of one of the beds, watching his sleeping children with tender eyes. The twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were wrapped in warm blankets, their silver curls falling over their faces, and little Maelor, the youngest, had his tiny fingers wrapped around a stuffed dragon, clutching it tightly to his chest as if he would never let it go.
It was quiet. A peaceful moment — something Aegon would never have imagined possible a few years ago.
His wife sat by the window, her needle gliding through the fabric of her embroidery. But you were not really looking at the thread; your gaze was distant. Your brow was furrowed, your thoughts elsewhere, far from the warmth of your shared bed.
"Darling?" Aegon asked quietly, but there was no answer.
He rose from the bed and walked toward you with silent steps, his boots gently treading on the cold stone floor that was so typical of this castle. He stopped right behind you and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered on your soft cheek, as if gently bringing you back to the present.
"What are you thinking about, my love?" he murmured in a low voice, filled with a tenderness that only you could evoke.
Your eyes flickered and blinked, as if you needed to ground yourself and reassure yourself that you were still in your chamber and not in an entirely different world. But you did not answer at first. Instead, you sighed softly, and Aegon knew the answer before you even spoke it. He saw it in the way your gaze wandered over the castle walls, lost in a place only you could truly understand. Someone who grew up there.
"The North again?" His voice was gentle, yet it carried the weight of a question you had danced around for years.
You nodded your head slightly, barely a movement, but enough to feel the truth in its weight and depth, even if you did not use words.
Before he could continue, a soft, sleepy voice interrupted him.
"Father?" Jaehaerys stirred, his eyes half-open. Aegon smiled and returned to his firstborn's small bed, where he lovingly stroked his son's hair. The tension vanished like morning mist. "Sleep, my little dragon," he whispered, the warmth slowly returning to him where your answer had dispelled it.
"The sky never looks the same here. It is always blue, gold, or red—never white," you whispered to yourself, but Aegon heard you.
He always heard you.
His fingers continued to gently stroke the silver curls his son had inherited from him, while his gaze slowly slid over his twin sister and his youngest son, who could barely speak yet but was already so loved.
"I always thought I would be a terrible father, but they make it easy," he said into the room. His voice was loud enough for you to hear him sitting by the window, but quiet enough not to wake the little ones.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a smile creep onto your rosy lips, causing his heart to leap a little in his chest. You had this effect on him for quite some time now. Ever since he started seeing you, really seeing you, and you let him in.
"You are doing better than you think," you replied in the gentle tone that was so typical of you.
For a moment, the chamber was plunged into silence, but it was not heavy; it was pleasant. Whenever he did not know what to say, and you could not find the words either, you remained silent. Your children usually filled the silence with their games, jokes, or Maelor alone with his tears or shrieks when he had still been a baby.
"I still miss it, though. The snow. The silence. The way the world felt clean."
For a brief moment, the prince's gaze hardened, and his fingers stopped combing through the boy's hair, who had fallen asleep once more. Your story and your longings were familiar to him, and there was one topic that often hung in the air, but one that neither of you ever spoke about.
"Do you miss home, or is it him you miss?" he asked without looking over his shoulder at you.
"Aegon…" you sighed, shaking your head before finally putting down your needle and thread and standing up. The fabric of your white nightgown rustled as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, your face buried in his shoulder.
His hand found yours and he squeezed it — protectively, possessively.
"I am sorry, my love. I... I know he was your friend," he whispered to you, and you heard in the gentleness of his tone that he was truly apologizing.
"No, you are right," you finally replied. "We were promised to each other once. The Starks and Kastarks are very close as houses, and we have been friends since childhood."
He did not notice it, but you could feel his hand immediately tighten around yours, as if he wanted to keep you with him. Forever.
"Do you love me?" His voice was vulnerable, honest. He had asked you that question hundreds of times over the course of your marriage, and you had the same answer for him every time.
"You are my husband, Aegon. It is my duty and my pride to love you and to call you mine. I love you, I love our children, and I would not trade that for anything in the world. I regret nothing."
Your prince leaned into you and turned his head so he could press a kiss to your temple. Then to your cheek, and finally to the edge of your lips.
"I love you too, my darling. More than I could ever show you," he replied, causing a slight giggle to escape your lips.
"I did not know my husband could be so romantic."
"I have many other sides to me, darling,“ he replied and you knew immediately, as you saw that twinkle in his amethyst-colored eyes, that you would not get much sleep that night.
"I know. We have three children, and it seems to me you are trying for a fourth."
A wide grin crept onto his lips, and he turned fully toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close to him.
"A fourth, a fifth... how about ten?" he asked you mischievously.
You could not help but roll your eyes and flung your arms around his neck, tangling your slender fingers in his always messy silver hair, for which the Targaryens were so known for.
"Do you mean to overshadow King Jaehaerys, my dearest Aegon?"
"If the decision were mine, we would fill every spare room in this Keep with our children," he answered before pressing his lips against yours.
The kiss was, like him, demanding, fierce, possessive, but also so full of love and affection that your heart melted within your chest.
It had not always been this way, but thank the gods, it was now and it would always continue to be this way.
The letter arrived in the early hours of the morning, while you were both still in bed.
Only a thin sheet covered the bare skin of you and your husband, and he was still sleeping soundly. Aegon's face was buried in your shoulder and his arms were wrapped around your waist, while your legs were still entwined with his, and your fingers traced small circles on the pale skin of his back.
He always looked so beautiful when the golden light of morning fell on his face.
A few years ago, things had been very different. You had rarely slept in the same bed, and when you had, it had only been to fulfill your duty as husband and wife. He had drank and slept with whores, and you had been as unhappy as a lone wolf abandoned by his pack.
But then your twins had been born, and he has changed. Not overnight, but with every single day he had spent with you and the children instead of in the city among whores and drunkards.
And finally, your third child, little Maelor, had not been conceived out of duty, but out of love. A lord had cornered you during a feast and would not let you go, but before you could call for the guards, Aegon had punched him square in the face.
The lord had a broken nose afterward, the Queen had been furious, but your husband had told you for the first time that night that he loved you. He had whispered it against your lips over and over as he took you that night as if it were his last moments on this earth.
And you had finally felt whole again. You were no longer a lone wolf, but a mother and a wife. A wolf with a new family.
But your longing for your former home, the North, had never fully disappeared, and now it returned, like the first wave washed back onto the shore after the tide went out.
A servant had quietly entered your chambers and placed only the sealed letter on the bedside table before quickly and quietly disappearing through the doors like a little mouse would.
You did not want to read it at first, assuming it was from your mother or one of your brothers, but then you saw the seal. Gray wax with the face of a wolf in it. Stark.
And while your lord husband was still asleep, his arms and legs still wrapped around you like a snake, you broke the seal with your sewing needle and let your tired eyes glide over the inked words:
To my old friend of House Kastark,
The North misses you. It has been more than half a decade since I last saw you, and my heart aches at the thought that we have not seen each other for so long. I hope you and your children are doing well in the capital, as is your husband. My own wife — may the old gods watch over her — recently passed away, and my son mourns her every day. Winterfell is without its lady. These are dark days, and I must confess that it is difficult for me. I cannot do this alone. So, I would like to ask you, my old friend, if you would visit me at Winterfell for a sennight? Your children and your husband, as well as his dragon, are of course welcome here as well. The North misses you, and I would be glad to see you again after all this time. I await your raven until the end of this moon.
Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell
"No," was the first thing Aegon said as he finished reading the letter.
You sat at the foot of the bed, slipping into your shoes after wrapping yourself in a dress and a robe. He, on the other hand, wore only plain linen trousers that hung low on his hips as he paced back and forth in front of the open window, clutching the letter from the North tightly in one hand.
"It has been so long since I have seen my home, Aegon. I miss—"
"But this is your home!" he interrupted immediately. "The Red Keep, our children, me. Or do you not consider us your home, your family?"
A deep sigh escaped you and you ran a hand through your long, dark hair, which was still uncombed. You were in the habit of always doing your hair and jewelry last.
"My love, you and our children are my only family. The only one that matters. But do I not deserve to at least feel the snow on my skin again? To hear the howling of wolves and feel the cold winds brush through my hair after all this time?"
The silver-haired prince shook his head firmly and threw the letter back onto the bed where you had just given it to him. You had woken him with a kiss and snuggled so close to him that he had thought this morning would be a truly beautiful one, but then you had started talking about a letter.
A letter from the North. From him.
"But what about him? About the Stark? He mentioned his recently deceased wife. Why do you think he did that?" he asked you, his eyes hard and brooking no argument.
"I don't know, my love! Maybe he is looking for sympathy or—"
"Or what?" he snapped back, taking a quick step toward you.
Your shoulders tensed, and you instinctively took a step back, holding your breath. You knew your husband would never be violent toward you, but you had your instincts. Your father had been less reserved when he was alive and before you were placed in the care of the Stark family.
"Forgive me," he whispered, wiping his face with a hand before walking back to the window, where he leaned against the wall. "My heart, I know how much you want to return to the North, but are you sure we can trust him?"
You walked over to the bed and picked up his tunic, which you had placed there earlier for him to wear. The fabric was soft and pale blue, like the sky outside. You loved that color on him.
"Here, my darling. Come here," you said in a soft, conciliatory voice, and he obeyed immediately.
With a sigh, he came to you and slowly raised his hand before placing it on your cheek. He was always so gentle with you, for he himself knew what it was like to be treated roughly. He loved you more than anything in the world, and your children even more, and if anything were to ever happen to you or them, the world would not be ready for his wrath.
You leaned into his touch and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his hand before finally standing on tiptoe to pull the tunic over his head. He helped you by tucking his arms into the sleeves and finally tucking the ends of the fabric into his trousers before he noticed he was still wearing the pants he always wore to bed, which, even though they were rather comfortable, were not suitable for the outdoors.
"Do you trust me?" you finally asked him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
For a moment, he simply looked into your eyes before leaning toward you and kissing your forehead. "Do you really have to ask me?"
You raised your eyebrows, and he wrapped his arms around your waist.
"I love you. If I ever don't trust you, I want you to take a dagger and stab me through the heart, because then I would not be myself anymore."
A soft laugh escaped your lips. "How soon can we pack?"
"You will see your snow again by the end of this week."
"Higher, Sunfyre! Higher, I want to show my wife the sun!" Prince Aegon shouted over the wind so his dragon could hear him. He did not speak High Valyrian to him — he never did — but the golden beast always seemed to understand him anyway. It was almost as if dragon and rider were one and the same.
His arms were wrapped around your stomach, and his chin rested on your shoulder most of the way as you flew north. You had already been traveling for ten hours without a break and had five more to go. Your back was already aching, and all you wanted was to rest in a bed or stretch your legs, but no. Your husband insisted on traveling the entire way without resting.
It was too risky for you to take your children with you, especially Maelor, because he was still so young and you did not want him to get sick under any circumstances. He had already caught a fever shortly after his birth, and it was only thanks to the gods that your little boy was still alive.
Your children were the most sacred to you, which is why you did not want to risk losing one. Never.
"There, Aegon! I can see it!" you suddenly called out, causing him to briefly lift his head from the crook of your shoulder to look in the direction you were pointing.
"What? What do you see?" he asked, confused, because nothing unusual caught his eye. In the far distance, he saw a lot of white, but that could also be fog or clouds obscuring your view.
"The snow," you whispered in a tone that sounded almost reverent.
Aegon narrowed his eyes, and sure enough, the white thing he saw was not fog. It was snow as far as the naked eye could see.
It was beautiful.
As Sunfyre descended through the clouds, Winterfell came into view — an ancient stone heart nestled in a sea of northern forest. From the sky, the castle looked like a gray fortress carved directly from the land itself, its high walls squat and strong, weathered by countless winters. The massive, circular curtain walls enclosed a maze of rooftops, smoke curling gently from chimneys into the crisp air.
The great Keep rose at the center, solid and square, flanked by the first Keep, even older and more worn. Between them lay open courtyards and twisting paths, dotted with figures like ants — soldiers, stablehands, and the dark-cloaked shapes of people belonging to the Nightswatch moving with quiet purpose.
To the east, the Godswood sprawled like a shadow, a dense stand of ancient trees clustered around a single, pale Weirwood Tree, its red leaves vivid even from high above. Nearby, the steaming mist of the hot springs rose from the ground, giving the castle an ethereal quality, like it breathed warmth into the cold northern air.
Beyond the walls stretched snow-dusted fields, training yards, and the stables, with the rugged terrain of the North unfolding to every horizon —harsh, beautiful, and endlessly vast.
"Oh, Aegon," you whispered, leaning forward instinctively, as if that would help you see more of your homeland, which you had not seen in seven long years. "Is it not wonderful?"
The prince shivered all over. He had never been to the North before, and even when you had told him to wrap himself in thick fur, he had not listened, thinking it was summer and that it would surely not be so cold in the North. He was wrong. Even under his leather gloves, which he always wore for flying, his fingers felt like they were frozen to ice.
"It’s cold," he finally managed, his teeth chattering.
"I told you so, you imbecile," you replied with a loud laugh. One that sounded so free and melodious that he wondered why he had only brought you to the North now. You sounded so free, your smile was so broad, and with your cheeks flushed from the cold, you looked so beautiful that his heart melted in his chest. Perhaps your warmth would still save him from dying of the cold.
While your gaze rested solely on Winterfell, Aegon's amethyst-colored eyes swept over the streets surrounding the ancient fortress. Everywhere were people dressed in dark clothing and carrying at least one cloak over their shoulders, all looking up as Sunfyre flew overhead.
Pride rose in his chest, knowing that these people had probably never seen a dragon of such beauty and splendor before. He hoped they were also afraid, for his faithful companion was not only beautiful but also just as deadly.
He landed Sunfyre in the snow outside the stone fortress, and immediately a crowd gathered, curious and wide-eyed, to see the dragon as if it were a deity descended from the heavens. The children and young people, in particular, seemed thrilled, while their mothers had to restrain them.
His dragon let out a loud roar, and the prince climbed out of the leather saddle and slid down the beast's flank until his feet touched the ground. You followed his example and carefully slid down the dragon's side, where your husband was waiting for you below and immediately wrapped his arm around you. You knew why he did that.
He wanted to show everyone that you belonged to him.
"Come with me," you whispered to him and began to lead him inside the walls of Winterfell, where you immediately smiled at the sight of the courtyard you had not seen in so long. But it felt like only yesterday that you left the snow-covered lands.
Aegon was still shivering beside you, unaccustomed to the cold, when you saw him.
He stood in the middle of the courtyard, tall, with pale skin and brown hair that fell to his shoulders, wrapped in black furs and leather. At his side stood a small boy who looked no older than five.
The Northman smiled invitingly when he saw you, and you could not help but walk a little faster, oblivious to the way Aegon's expression had hardened and he was staring at the two of them as if they were about to declare war on you at any second.
"Hello, old friend," you greeted Lord Cregan Stark with a friendly smile on your lips. "You have grown."
"And you are just as small and delicate as you were then," he replied with a shake of his head.
"Come here, you old wolf," you said, slipping out of Aegon's grasp to embrace Cregan. The Northman let go of the child's hand and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. He was tall, and your head barely reached his shoulder, but somehow you had known that.
As you savored the embrace, lost for a moment in memories of the two of you running through this courtyard as children, throwing snow at each other until you were tired and exhausted, Aegon clenched his fists so tightly it almost hurt.
He did not want to see this. He wanted to leave again, he wanted to take you home to your children and hold you so tightly in your arms that he was sure you would not leave him. All of them, but not you. Please, not you.
After a few seconds, you broke the embrace and knelt on the ground to be at the same level as the boy standing next to Cregan.
"And you must be the little Rickon, right?" you asked him in a gentle voice. You were a mother through and through.
The little boy, who had dark hair and looked almost identical to Lord Stark, though with softer eyes, nodded cautiously. His eyes were slightly reddened and his lips curled into a slight pout — still mourning his mother, no doubt.
"He does not talk much since his mother died," Cregan sighed, and you stood back up, feeling Aegon's hand on your lower back. Almost protective.
"My sincere condolences, Lord Stark," you said, and you meant it, even though you had not known his lady wife. He was your oldest friend, and you wanted him to be happy. Just as happy as you were with your children and your husband.
"From me too," Aegon said, but you heard the politeness in his voice, not the sincerity. You could not blame him, though. He did not know him, and neither did he trust him.
"Thank you, my prince. I did not expect you to come so soon, but it was a very pleasant surprise when I heard that a dragon had been seen in the sky," Cregan told you, as his son snuggled close to his side.
"My wife expressed to me her wish to see the snow again. I cannot refuse her anything," Aegon replied, instinctively moving even closer to you, as if to prove to the man that he should not even attempt to touch you.
Cregan Stark nodded his head. "That was very kind of you, my prince. Your wife is a wolf through and through, a beautiful northern flower."
You looked away and shivered as you saw Aegon grinding his jaw. His eyes were darkened, and you knew that he hated him. These two men would probably never be friends in this lifetime.
"She is beautiful, yes. My wife is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love her very much. Our three children too," the silver-haired Targaryen said, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek.
For a moment, the courtyard was enveloped in silence. The only thing that could be heard was the howling of the winds, the roar of Sunfyre in the distance, the conversations of a few men and women, and the loud, metallic clang of a sword being forged on an anvil.
"My dear friend," you began, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "My husband is too proud to admit it, but he has been cold ever since we encountered the first snow, and all I want is a warm bed to put my feet up in."
The Lord of Winterfell laughed and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing once before answering again. "Yes, forgive me. Your chambers have already been prepared for you, and the servants will prepare you a hot bath as well."
"Thank you, Cregan. It feels so good—"
"Yes, thank you. And Sunfyre needs a load of sheep. My poor dragon has not eaten in hours, and you do not want him feasting on the village children," Aegon interrupted, causing your eyes to widen in shock.
"Aegon!" you hissed quietly, but Cregan just chuckled in polite amusement.
"No, tis all right. We have ten sheep to give your dragon. Two each day until you leave," Lord Stark explained, to which your lord husband agreed. Two sheep might not be much, and back in King's Landing, Sunfyre would get an extra portion, but he did not want to overstay his welcome and have these people become angry that they do not habe enough sheep anymore.
The Northman whistled, and a young servant came immediately: "One of our handmaidens. She will escort you to your chambers and attend to your every need. Your belongings will also be brought to your chambers," he explained.
You were about to say something else, but Aegon had already wrapped his arm around your shoulders and subtly pushed you toward where the servant girl was waiting.
These five days would likely be the hardest and most strenuous of your life.
"He desires you," the Targaryen prince grumbled while he was scrubbing at his skin in the bathtub.
A deep sigh escaped you and you could not help but shake your head while you sorted his and your clothes in one of the drawers. You have already washed yourself and was now wearing a simple white nightgown, whose fabric was firmer and warmer than that in the south so that you would not get cold at night.
"My dearest love, he just lost his wife. He is only happy to see a friend again after all these years."
Now the prince is the one to sigh and he leaned his head against the head end of the wooden tub. Wood — not marble like in King’s Landing — because it was probably easier to carry it from one room to the other.
"The way he looked at you! As if he was already seeing you underneath him," he said, scrubbing the sponge even more over the skin of his arm, so that it was already completely red and partially scratched up.
You closed the drawer and moved to kneel down next to the tub, while you did not care that the ends of your gown probably got a little dirty.
"Give me the sponge," your voice was firm, but at the same time gently. He did not want to argue with you anyway.
After giving you the sponge, you began washing him as gently as ever, since you did not want him to smell too much like his dragon in bed. You did not want him to accidentally hurt himself, as he often did with his fingernails or the skin around it. A habit that he apparently inherited from his mother the Queen.
"Do you think I would let him do that? That I want him?" You asked him quietly, a test of his trust.
Aegon turned his head to you, his eyes wide, his soft lips opened slightly and you could see how much he thought about his answer. He did not want you to be angry on him, which you were not.
"I don't hope so," he murmured softly.
"Aegon."
"What?"
You put your hand on his cheek so that he would not look away, because you wanted him to become aware of these words: "I love you, Aegon. You. Not him. Yes, we were betrothed to each other once, but I never had romantic feelings for him. Cregan was always just my friend."
As best as he could, he turned his upper body, so that he could look better into your eyes while leaning his face in your loving touch.
"I love you too. Say, my darling wife, would you like to join your husband in the tub? There would be room on my lap."
You roll playfully with your eyes and let the sponge fall back into the now dirty bathing water. "You can count yourself lucky if I let you into bed at all."
"Do you want me to sleep like a dog in front of the fireplace? A wolf?" He asked you with a grin while he started moving the sponge over his chest again, washing the lingering scent of dragon away.
"I am sure you would enjoy it, when I kept you on a leash," you grinned and sat down on the bed while you looked at him with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. Maybe you should not sleep with each other in a place that was not yours and possibly overkeep the hospitality, but this had been your home. You wanted this.
You observed your husband, how he bit down on his bottom lip in thought and how his violet eyes moved your body up and down. A pleasant warmth spread in your stomach and, following his gaze, he felt the same thing.
"Do you still remember when you told me that I would try to make an effort to have a fourth child?" He asked you, emerging from the tub and grabbing a towel to dry his wet body largely before he would climb into bed with you.
"Of course."
"How would you like it if it was conceived here in the north? In the snow?"
A smile spread on your lips and Aegon replied by letting his towel fell to the ground and quickly climbing on top of you, like he has done so many times before and like he would do it over and over again until you would grow tired of him.
Not Cregan saw you underneath him tonight.
He did.
The next morning, as the sun was just casting its first rays over the white long northern landscape, you were invited to breakfast with Lord Cregan and his son.
The prince wore a black doublet with gold embroidery on the arms and chest over a warm tunic, and over it a warm fur that was almost the same color as his hair. You, on the other hand, wore a dark green dress and a fur cloak over your shoulders, although it was brown rather than white, so that you too would stay warm.
You sat next to each other, with Cregan sitting across from Aegon and little Rickon across from you. The boy was sweet and innocent, and he somehow reminded you of your beloved son Jaehaerys, who was probably playing with his twin sister or studying with a Septa at that very moment.
"I hope you are pleased with your chambers," Cregan said, trying to start a conversation so you did not just have to listen to the sound of chewing or the fire burning calmly in the fireplace.
"Very," your husband answered before you could. "The bed is extremely comfortable and does not creak, even when you exert yourself."
A blush rose in your cheeks and you looked down at your plate to avoid Stark's gaze. Gods, why did he always have to make those lewd comments? You love it when we gets lascivious, but more so within your chambers and not when anyone was listening.
"I am glad to hear that," Lord Cregan finally replied, his tone neutral, taking a long sip from his cup, which was filled with strong northern wine.
His gaze turned back to you, and for a moment you could feel him looking — really looking. This time he did not just see a friend, who had to leave him back then after being betrothed to the prince. He saw the woman you had become over the years. The noble lady who would have been more than worthy of the title of a Lady Stark.
"My lady, how are your children?" he finally asked himself, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. "You have three, right?"
You nodded, and immediately your features softened again, because you loved thinking and talking about your little ones. You were so proud of them, even though they were still so young. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were both four summers old, and Maelor had had his second name day a month ago.
"Yes, exactly. Two boys and a girl," you told him proudly, looking at Aegon, whose gaze never wavered for a second from the man across from him, as if trying to skin him with his gaze.
"Little dragons, I presume?" His question was playful, but Aegon still placed a hand on your thigh under the table. Actually, he had to promise you last night not to be jealous anymore, because otherwise you would not have allowed him to spread your legs and dive into your softest flesh, but he could not help it. Aegon was indeed still jealous.
"Silver hair, violet eyes, and strong lungs," you chuckled, which also brought the briefest hint of a smile to Rickon's face.
"I would have liked to meet them," the Lord said, and his voice sounded as if he actually wanted to. Part of you felt bad that you could only tell him about them, but at least at home, the risk of them catching a cold was smaller.
"I would have liked to bring them, but I do not want them to get sick, and Sunfyre can only carry a maximum of three people. Not five, even if they are small," you answered honestly, to which he nodded his head in understanding.
"Then I suppose I will have to visit King's Landing one day to meet them."
Aegon opened his mouth to reply, but you quickly intervened, knowing your husband would not have been polite: "Of course. You are always welcome at the Red Keep."
“I will take you at your word.”
"I hope you realize he meant it," Aegon grumbled as you led him outside to show him around. You wanted him to see the beauty of the North with his own eyes, not just the bad.
"I know, dear, but enough of that. Look around!" you laughed, spinning around in a circle, the skirt of your dress touching the snow and dirt on the ground as small snowflakes landed in your hair.
"I do," he said, but he did not see the snow, the stone houses, or the trees in the distance. He only looked at you. Always at you.
"Lady Stark!" a woman suddenly called out, her skin wrinkled and her hair graying.
You instinctively turned to the woman, as if answering by that name. Lady Stark. Aegon swallowed the lump in his throat. He did not mean to get angry, but unfortunately he had always been quick to anger.
"Her name is Kastark, and she is no longer a lady, but a princess," Aegon snapped, whereupon the old woman stopped and bowed deeply, which certainly could not do her old knees any good.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I knew her when she was a child," said the woman, still bowing deeply.
"You are the baker," you realized, holding out a helping hand so she would not have to bow any longer. Your husband remained suspicious at your side.
"You have grown so much. And beautiful you have become, too," the old woman gushed, gently squeezing your hand, at which point you could not suppress your smile any longer.
"We were all so sad when your betrothal to our Lord Stark was broken off, because of your father‘s death. You would have made a wonderful Lady Stark."
It was not the words themselves that made Aegon turn around and head back toward the fortress, but the way she said them. It had been so full of hope and regret, as if that old woman were hoping it could still happen. That you would still become the Lady Stark of Winterfell.
"Aegon! Aegon, wait!" you called after him, but he did not want to listen to this conversation any longer. He did not want to be reminded that this Cregan was a good and respectable man who would have made a wonderful husband to you. Probably a much better one than he was. Perhaps you would have been much happier here in the North than with him in the South.
You had always been too good for him, too kind, too polite, too—
"Mm—My prince?" a small voice stammered as he had just climbed the stairs to the entrance lost deep in his tumultuous thoughts.
Little Rickon Stark stood below, looking up at him with wide eyes, as if he did not know what to say, or as if he were afraid of something.
"Yes, boy?" he asked with a sigh. The child was innocent, and he did not want to frighten him.
"I—I wish to see the dragon."
His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head. "He is just up ahead. You have legs, have you not?"
The boy looked down to the ground. "Father forbade me from going to him alone. He said he did not want me to end up like a roasted pig."
Something about the way the boy looked at him reminded him of Jaehaerys. It was probably his eyes, so wide and full of childlike innocence. This boy was the child of his self-proclaimed enemy, but he could not just send him away all sad and disappointed.
Besides, he was talking now, which he did not do before.
"Fine. Come with me," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him toward the gate, where Sunfyre lay curled up together in the snow like a giant cat. Peaceful as ever.
"His name is Sunfyre. The maesters call him the most beautiful dragon that ever roamed this earth," Aegon told him proudly, reaching out to gently stroke his golden scales.
"Is—Is he dangerous?"
A grin formed on his lips, and he could feel his earlier anger slowly fading. "Every dragon is dangerous unless you are its rider."
"Do your children have dragons, too?"
The silver-haired prince shrugged. "They have eggs that will hatch one day, so the gods will, and then, yes, they will have dragons."
"I want a dragon too!" Stark's son exclaimed enthusiastically, and for the first time, he saw him truly smiling broadly, his eyes shining. "I want to fly through the sky and see him breathe fire!"
"Do you Starks not have wolves, or at least big dogs to keep you company?"
"Yes, but father says I am too young to have one," the boy replied, still staring at the dragon with wide eyes.
"And he is right about that," your voice suddenly sounded from the side. You had overheard the conversation from the side, and it warmed your heart. Even though he was grumpy, this was the man you loved. Your lustful, angry, stormy dragon named Aegon Targaryen.
You were happy with him.
You could not help but wrap your arms around your husband and rest your head on his shoulder, which immediately calmed him down, because now you were with him again.
"Go back to your father, little one. Show him your smile," you said, and the boy immediately obeyed, running back toward the fortress where he was going to tell his father about the dragon.
Sunfyre raised his large head and simply looked at the two of you. Somehow, he looked happy, even though he was probably mostly cold. Well, if a dragon could even get cold.
"You are a good man," you whispered in a gentle voice.
For a moment, he said nothing, simply unsure what to say. He was not a good man. He was a drunkard, who had been whoring all the time, before he fell in love with you, and a jealous man who was afraid of losing you. So very afraid.
"I am not, and you know it, my heart," he sighed softly, raising his hand and stroking Sunfyre's chin soothingly.
"And yet I love you," you said, and the honesty in your voice nearly broke his heart in half. Suddenly, he was feeling terrible that he had ever been angry with you, ever thought you were not happy with him, because you were. Your smile told him that every morning.
"Did you hear me? I love you, Aegon," you repeated.
The gold-scaled dragon leaned into his hand, and Aegon blinked rapidly several times to hold back the tears. He did not want to cry, not now. Not out here, where everyone would see his weakness.
"I am so sorry. All you wanted was to see your cursed snow again, and I am ruining all that by being a jealous husband."
You shook your head and stood in front of him so he would look into your eyes and not be distracted by Sunfyre's beauty. The dragon laid his head back on the snowy ground and closed his eyes again. Out here in the north, he seemed to prefer lying around to flying. Perhaps he sensed the Wall, which was a few miles away from this place.
"You have not ruined anything. I understand that you do not like Cregan and that you want me to be safe, but I am. I never had and never will have any romantic interest in him," you told him, and you meant it.
"But I-"
"Stop it," you interrupted, repeating the same words to him you had said to him before: "You are my husband, Aegon. It is my duty and my pride to love you and to call you mine. I love you, I love our children, and I would not trade that for anything in the world. I regret nothing. Nothing."
A lone tear rolled down his cheek, and you moved to stand on your tiptoe and kiss it from his cheek before placing your hands on his chest.
"We have only been here a day, and I already want to go home," he chuckled, his pale cheeks flushing pink.
"You will survive these few days," you smiled, and he leaned toward you to press a tender kiss to your lips.
"As long as you are with me and I can call you mine," he murmured against your lips.
"Always."
And as the snow rained down on both of your heads and you held each other in your arms, he too realized that you would never leave him. You loved him, and he loved you. You and your family, which would hopefully continue to grow some day.
And if all he had to do for that was taking you to see the snow and not murder Cregan Stark, then he would do it.
Summary: You and Aegon have been married for several years and while you are happy with him and your children, you long to feel the cold winds of the north again- your home. When a letter from an old friend reaches you, you convince your husband to see the snow covered lands for himself. Unfortunately, Aegon was a jealous man and Cregan Stark was far too happy to see you again.
Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Wife!Reader, (unrequited) Cregan Stark x Reader
Word count: 7427 words
Warnings: Reader is female and is from House Karstark, arranged marriage, brief talks of smut, suggestive themes, jealousy, angst, a bit of fluff here and there, it’s briefly mentioned that the Reader had an abusive childhood, aegon being a good dad, no mention of Y/N
Notes: This didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, but I hope you’ll like it still! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛.
The soft moon light fell through the high windows of your marital chambers in the Red Keep, casting gentle shadows into the room that served as the nursery. Aegon Targayen, second of his name, sat at the edge of one of the beds, watching his sleeping children with tender eyes. The twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were wrapped in warm blankets, their silver curls falling over their faces, and little Maelor, the youngest, had his tiny fingers wrapped around a stuffed dragon, clutching it tightly to his chest as if he would never let it go.
It was quiet. A peaceful moment — something Aegon would never have imagined possible a few years ago.
His wife sat by the window, her needle gliding through the fabric of her embroidery. But you were not really looking at the thread; your gaze was distant. Your brow was furrowed, your thoughts elsewhere, far from the warmth of your shared bed.
"Darling?" Aegon asked quietly, but there was no answer.
He rose from the bed and walked toward you with silent steps, his boots gently treading on the cold stone floor that was so typical of this castle. He stopped right behind you and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered on your soft cheek, as if gently bringing you back to the present.
"What are you thinking about, my love?" he murmured in a low voice, filled with a tenderness that only you could evoke.
Your eyes flickered and blinked, as if you needed to ground yourself and reassure yourself that you were still in your chamber and not in an entirely different world. But you did not answer at first. Instead, you sighed softly, and Aegon knew the answer before you even spoke it. He saw it in the way your gaze wandered over the castle walls, lost in a place only you could truly understand. Someone who grew up there.
"The North again?" His voice was gentle, yet it carried the weight of a question you had danced around for years.
You nodded your head slightly, barely a movement, but enough to feel the truth in its weight and depth, even if you did not use words.
Before he could continue, a soft, sleepy voice interrupted him.
"Father?" Jaehaerys stirred, his eyes half-open. Aegon smiled and returned to his firstborn's small bed, where he lovingly stroked his son's hair. The tension vanished like morning mist. "Sleep, my little dragon," he whispered, the warmth slowly returning to him where your answer had dispelled it.
"The sky never looks the same here. It is always blue, gold, or red—never white," you whispered to yourself, but Aegon heard you.
He always heard you.
His fingers continued to gently stroke the silver curls his son had inherited from him, while his gaze slowly slid over his twin sister and his youngest son, who could barely speak yet but was already so loved.
"I always thought I would be a terrible father, but they make it easy," he said into the room. His voice was loud enough for you to hear him sitting by the window, but quiet enough not to wake the little ones.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a smile creep onto your rosy lips, causing his heart to leap a little in his chest. You had this effect on him for quite some time now. Ever since he started seeing you, really seeing you, and you let him in.
"You are doing better than you think," you replied in the gentle tone that was so typical of you.
For a moment, the chamber was plunged into silence, but it was not heavy; it was pleasant. Whenever he did not know what to say, and you could not find the words either, you remained silent. Your children usually filled the silence with their games, jokes, or Maelor alone with his tears or shrieks when he had still been a baby.
"I still miss it, though. The snow. The silence. The way the world felt clean."
For a brief moment, the prince's gaze hardened, and his fingers stopped combing through the boy's hair, who had fallen asleep once more. Your story and your longings were familiar to him, and there was one topic that often hung in the air, but one that neither of you ever spoke about.
"Do you miss home, or is it him you miss?" he asked without looking over his shoulder at you.
"Aegon…" you sighed, shaking your head before finally putting down your needle and thread and standing up. The fabric of your white nightgown rustled as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, your face buried in his shoulder.
His hand found yours and he squeezed it — protectively, possessively.
"I am sorry, my love. I... I know he was your friend," he whispered to you, and you heard in the gentleness of his tone that he was truly apologizing.
"No, you are right," you finally replied. "We were promised to each other once. The Starks and Kastarks are very close as houses, and we have been friends since childhood."
He did not notice it, but you could feel his hand immediately tighten around yours, as if he wanted to keep you with him. Forever.
"Do you love me?" His voice was vulnerable, honest. He had asked you that question hundreds of times over the course of your marriage, and you had the same answer for him every time.
"You are my husband, Aegon. It is my duty and my pride to love you and to call you mine. I love you, I love our children, and I would not trade that for anything in the world. I regret nothing."
Your prince leaned into you and turned his head so he could press a kiss to your temple. Then to your cheek, and finally to the edge of your lips.
"I love you too, my darling. More than I could ever show you," he replied, causing a slight giggle to escape your lips.
"I did not know my husband could be so romantic."
"I have many other sides to me, darling,“ he replied and you knew immediately, as you saw that twinkle in his amethyst-colored eyes, that you would not get much sleep that night.
"I know. We have three children, and it seems to me you are trying for a fourth."
A wide grin crept onto his lips, and he turned fully toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close to him.
"A fourth, a fifth... how about ten?" he asked you mischievously.
You could not help but roll your eyes and flung your arms around his neck, tangling your slender fingers in his always messy silver hair, for which the Targaryens were so known for.
"Do you mean to overshadow King Jaehaerys, my dearest Aegon?"
"If the decision were mine, we would fill every spare room in this Keep with our children," he answered before pressing his lips against yours.
The kiss was, like him, demanding, fierce, possessive, but also so full of love and affection that your heart melted within your chest.
It had not always been this way, but thank the gods, it was now and it would always continue to be this way.
The letter arrived in the early hours of the morning, while you were both still in bed.
Only a thin sheet covered the bare skin of you and your husband, and he was still sleeping soundly. Aegon's face was buried in your shoulder and his arms were wrapped around your waist, while your legs were still entwined with his, and your fingers traced small circles on the pale skin of his back.
He always looked so beautiful when the golden light of morning fell on his face.
A few years ago, things had been very different. You had rarely slept in the same bed, and when you had, it had only been to fulfill your duty as husband and wife. He had drank and slept with whores, and you had been as unhappy as a lone wolf abandoned by his pack.
But then your twins had been born, and he has changed. Not overnight, but with every single day he had spent with you and the children instead of in the city among whores and drunkards.
And finally, your third child, little Maelor, had not been conceived out of duty, but out of love. A lord had cornered you during a feast and would not let you go, but before you could call for the guards, Aegon had punched him square in the face.
The lord had a broken nose afterward, the Queen had been furious, but your husband had told you for the first time that night that he loved you. He had whispered it against your lips over and over as he took you that night as if it were his last moments on this earth.
And you had finally felt whole again. You were no longer a lone wolf, but a mother and a wife. A wolf with a new family.
But your longing for your former home, the North, had never fully disappeared, and now it returned, like the first wave washed back onto the shore after the tide went out.
A servant had quietly entered your chambers and placed only the sealed letter on the bedside table before quickly and quietly disappearing through the doors like a little mouse would.
You did not want to read it at first, assuming it was from your mother or one of your brothers, but then you saw the seal. Gray wax with the face of a wolf in it. Stark.
And while your lord husband was still asleep, his arms and legs still wrapped around you like a snake, you broke the seal with your sewing needle and let your tired eyes glide over the inked words:
To my old friend of House Kastark,
The North misses you. It has been more than half a decade since I last saw you, and my heart aches at the thought that we have not seen each other for so long. I hope you and your children are doing well in the capital, as is your husband. My own wife — may the old gods watch over her — recently passed away, and my son mourns her every day. Winterfell is without its lady. These are dark days, and I must confess that it is difficult for me. I cannot do this alone. So, I would like to ask you, my old friend, if you would visit me at Winterfell for a sennight? Your children and your husband, as well as his dragon, are of course welcome here as well. The North misses you, and I would be glad to see you again after all this time. I await your raven until the end of this moon.
Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell
"No," was the first thing Aegon said as he finished reading the letter.
You sat at the foot of the bed, slipping into your shoes after wrapping yourself in a dress and a robe. He, on the other hand, wore only plain linen trousers that hung low on his hips as he paced back and forth in front of the open window, clutching the letter from the North tightly in one hand.
"It has been so long since I have seen my home, Aegon. I miss—"
"But this is your home!" he interrupted immediately. "The Red Keep, our children, me. Or do you not consider us your home, your family?"
A deep sigh escaped you and you ran a hand through your long, dark hair, which was still uncombed. You were in the habit of always doing your hair and jewelry last.
"My love, you and our children are my only family. The only one that matters. But do I not deserve to at least feel the snow on my skin again? To hear the howling of wolves and feel the cold winds brush through my hair after all this time?"
The silver-haired prince shook his head firmly and threw the letter back onto the bed where you had just given it to him. You had woken him with a kiss and snuggled so close to him that he had thought this morning would be a truly beautiful one, but then you had started talking about a letter.
A letter from the North. From him.
"But what about him? About the Stark? He mentioned his recently deceased wife. Why do you think he did that?" he asked you, his eyes hard and brooking no argument.
"I don't know, my love! Maybe he is looking for sympathy or—"
"Or what?" he snapped back, taking a quick step toward you.
Your shoulders tensed, and you instinctively took a step back, holding your breath. You knew your husband would never be violent toward you, but you had your instincts. Your father had been less reserved when he was alive and before you were placed in the care of the Stark family.
"Forgive me," he whispered, wiping his face with a hand before walking back to the window, where he leaned against the wall. "My heart, I know how much you want to return to the North, but are you sure we can trust him?"
You walked over to the bed and picked up his tunic, which you had placed there earlier for him to wear. The fabric was soft and pale blue, like the sky outside. You loved that color on him.
"Here, my darling. Come here," you said in a soft, conciliatory voice, and he obeyed immediately.
With a sigh, he came to you and slowly raised his hand before placing it on your cheek. He was always so gentle with you, for he himself knew what it was like to be treated roughly. He loved you more than anything in the world, and your children even more, and if anything were to ever happen to you or them, the world would not be ready for his wrath.
You leaned into his touch and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his hand before finally standing on tiptoe to pull the tunic over his head. He helped you by tucking his arms into the sleeves and finally tucking the ends of the fabric into his trousers before he noticed he was still wearing the pants he always wore to bed, which, even though they were rather comfortable, were not suitable for the outdoors.
"Do you trust me?" you finally asked him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
For a moment, he simply looked into your eyes before leaning toward you and kissing your forehead. "Do you really have to ask me?"
You raised your eyebrows, and he wrapped his arms around your waist.
"I love you. If I ever don't trust you, I want you to take a dagger and stab me through the heart, because then I would not be myself anymore."
A soft laugh escaped your lips. "How soon can we pack?"
"You will see your snow again by the end of this week."
"Higher, Sunfyre! Higher, I want to show my wife the sun!" Prince Aegon shouted over the wind so his dragon could hear him. He did not speak High Valyrian to him — he never did — but the golden beast always seemed to understand him anyway. It was almost as if dragon and rider were one and the same.
His arms were wrapped around your stomach, and his chin rested on your shoulder most of the way as you flew north. You had already been traveling for ten hours without a break and had five more to go. Your back was already aching, and all you wanted was to rest in a bed or stretch your legs, but no. Your husband insisted on traveling the entire way without resting.
It was too risky for you to take your children with you, especially Maelor, because he was still so young and you did not want him to get sick under any circumstances. He had already caught a fever shortly after his birth, and it was only thanks to the gods that your little boy was still alive.
Your children were the most sacred to you, which is why you did not want to risk losing one. Never.
"There, Aegon! I can see it!" you suddenly called out, causing him to briefly lift his head from the crook of your shoulder to look in the direction you were pointing.
"What? What do you see?" he asked, confused, because nothing unusual caught his eye. In the far distance, he saw a lot of white, but that could also be fog or clouds obscuring your view.
"The snow," you whispered in a tone that sounded almost reverent.
Aegon narrowed his eyes, and sure enough, the white thing he saw was not fog. It was snow as far as the naked eye could see.
It was beautiful.
As Sunfyre descended through the clouds, Winterfell came into view — an ancient stone heart nestled in a sea of northern forest. From the sky, the castle looked like a gray fortress carved directly from the land itself, its high walls squat and strong, weathered by countless winters. The massive, circular curtain walls enclosed a maze of rooftops, smoke curling gently from chimneys into the crisp air.
The great Keep rose at the center, solid and square, flanked by the first Keep, even older and more worn. Between them lay open courtyards and twisting paths, dotted with figures like ants — soldiers, stablehands, and the dark-cloaked shapes of people belonging to the Nightswatch moving with quiet purpose.
To the east, the Godswood sprawled like a shadow, a dense stand of ancient trees clustered around a single, pale Weirwood Tree, its red leaves vivid even from high above. Nearby, the steaming mist of the hot springs rose from the ground, giving the castle an ethereal quality, like it breathed warmth into the cold northern air.
Beyond the walls stretched snow-dusted fields, training yards, and the stables, with the rugged terrain of the North unfolding to every horizon —harsh, beautiful, and endlessly vast.
"Oh, Aegon," you whispered, leaning forward instinctively, as if that would help you see more of your homeland, which you had not seen in seven long years. "Is it not wonderful?"
The prince shivered all over. He had never been to the North before, and even when you had told him to wrap himself in thick fur, he had not listened, thinking it was summer and that it would surely not be so cold in the North. He was wrong. Even under his leather gloves, which he always wore for flying, his fingers felt like they were frozen to ice.
"It’s cold," he finally managed, his teeth chattering.
"I told you so, you imbecile," you replied with a loud laugh. One that sounded so free and melodious that he wondered why he had only brought you to the North now. You sounded so free, your smile was so broad, and with your cheeks flushed from the cold, you looked so beautiful that his heart melted in his chest. Perhaps your warmth would still save him from dying of the cold.
While your gaze rested solely on Winterfell, Aegon's amethyst-colored eyes swept over the streets surrounding the ancient fortress. Everywhere were people dressed in dark clothing and carrying at least one cloak over their shoulders, all looking up as Sunfyre flew overhead.
Pride rose in his chest, knowing that these people had probably never seen a dragon of such beauty and splendor before. He hoped they were also afraid, for his faithful companion was not only beautiful but also just as deadly.
He landed Sunfyre in the snow outside the stone fortress, and immediately a crowd gathered, curious and wide-eyed, to see the dragon as if it were a deity descended from the heavens. The children and young people, in particular, seemed thrilled, while their mothers had to restrain them.
His dragon let out a loud roar, and the prince climbed out of the leather saddle and slid down the beast's flank until his feet touched the ground. You followed his example and carefully slid down the dragon's side, where your husband was waiting for you below and immediately wrapped his arm around you. You knew why he did that.
He wanted to show everyone that you belonged to him.
"Come with me," you whispered to him and began to lead him inside the walls of Winterfell, where you immediately smiled at the sight of the courtyard you had not seen in so long. But it felt like only yesterday that you left the snow-covered lands.
Aegon was still shivering beside you, unaccustomed to the cold, when you saw him.
He stood in the middle of the courtyard, tall, with pale skin and brown hair that fell to his shoulders, wrapped in black furs and leather. At his side stood a small boy who looked no older than five.
The Northman smiled invitingly when he saw you, and you could not help but walk a little faster, oblivious to the way Aegon's expression had hardened and he was staring at the two of them as if they were about to declare war on you at any second.
"Hello, old friend," you greeted Lord Cregan Stark with a friendly smile on your lips. "You have grown."
"And you are just as small and delicate as you were then," he replied with a shake of his head.
"Come here, you old wolf," you said, slipping out of Aegon's grasp to embrace Cregan. The Northman let go of the child's hand and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. He was tall, and your head barely reached his shoulder, but somehow you had known that.
As you savored the embrace, lost for a moment in memories of the two of you running through this courtyard as children, throwing snow at each other until you were tired and exhausted, Aegon clenched his fists so tightly it almost hurt.
He did not want to see this. He wanted to leave again, he wanted to take you home to your children and hold you so tightly in your arms that he was sure you would not leave him. All of them, but not you. Please, not you.
After a few seconds, you broke the embrace and knelt on the ground to be at the same level as the boy standing next to Cregan.
"And you must be the little Rickon, right?" you asked him in a gentle voice. You were a mother through and through.
The little boy, who had dark hair and looked almost identical to Lord Stark, though with softer eyes, nodded cautiously. His eyes were slightly reddened and his lips curled into a slight pout — still mourning his mother, no doubt.
"He does not talk much since his mother died," Cregan sighed, and you stood back up, feeling Aegon's hand on your lower back. Almost protective.
"My sincere condolences, Lord Stark," you said, and you meant it, even though you had not known his lady wife. He was your oldest friend, and you wanted him to be happy. Just as happy as you were with your children and your husband.
"From me too," Aegon said, but you heard the politeness in his voice, not the sincerity. You could not blame him, though. He did not know him, and neither did he trust him.
"Thank you, my prince. I did not expect you to come so soon, but it was a very pleasant surprise when I heard that a dragon had been seen in the sky," Cregan told you, as his son snuggled close to his side.
"My wife expressed to me her wish to see the snow again. I cannot refuse her anything," Aegon replied, instinctively moving even closer to you, as if to prove to the man that he should not even attempt to touch you.
Cregan Stark nodded his head. "That was very kind of you, my prince. Your wife is a wolf through and through, a beautiful northern flower."
You looked away and shivered as you saw Aegon grinding his jaw. His eyes were darkened, and you knew that he hated him. These two men would probably never be friends in this lifetime.
"She is beautiful, yes. My wife is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love her very much. Our three children too," the silver-haired Targaryen said, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek.
For a moment, the courtyard was enveloped in silence. The only thing that could be heard was the howling of the winds, the roar of Sunfyre in the distance, the conversations of a few men and women, and the loud, metallic clang of a sword being forged on an anvil.
"My dear friend," you began, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "My husband is too proud to admit it, but he has been cold ever since we encountered the first snow, and all I want is a warm bed to put my feet up in."
The Lord of Winterfell laughed and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing once before answering again. "Yes, forgive me. Your chambers have already been prepared for you, and the servants will prepare you a hot bath as well."
"Thank you, Cregan. It feels so good—"
"Yes, thank you. And Sunfyre needs a load of sheep. My poor dragon has not eaten in hours, and you do not want him feasting on the village children," Aegon interrupted, causing your eyes to widen in shock.
"Aegon!" you hissed quietly, but Cregan just chuckled in polite amusement.
"No, tis all right. We have ten sheep to give your dragon. Two each day until you leave," Lord Stark explained, to which your lord husband agreed. Two sheep might not be much, and back in King's Landing, Sunfyre would get an extra portion, but he did not want to overstay his welcome and have these people become angry that they do not habe enough sheep anymore.
The Northman whistled, and a young servant came immediately: "One of our handmaidens. She will escort you to your chambers and attend to your every need. Your belongings will also be brought to your chambers," he explained.
You were about to say something else, but Aegon had already wrapped his arm around your shoulders and subtly pushed you toward where the servant girl was waiting.
These five days would likely be the hardest and most strenuous of your life.
"He desires you," the Targaryen prince grumbled while he was scrubbing at his skin in the bathtub.
A deep sigh escaped you and you could not help but shake your head while you sorted his and your clothes in one of the drawers. You have already washed yourself and was now wearing a simple white nightgown, whose fabric was firmer and warmer than that in the south so that you would not get cold at night.
"My dearest love, he just lost his wife. He is only happy to see a friend again after all these years."
Now the prince is the one to sigh and he leaned his head against the head end of the wooden tub. Wood — not marble like in King’s Landing — because it was probably easier to carry it from one room to the other.
"The way he looked at you! As if he was already seeing you underneath him," he said, scrubbing the sponge even more over the skin of his arm, so that it was already completely red and partially scratched up.
You closed the drawer and moved to kneel down next to the tub, while you did not care that the ends of your gown probably got a little dirty.
"Give me the sponge," your voice was firm, but at the same time gently. He did not want to argue with you anyway.
After giving you the sponge, you began washing him as gently as ever, since you did not want him to smell too much like his dragon in bed. You did not want him to accidentally hurt himself, as he often did with his fingernails or the skin around it. A habit that he apparently inherited from his mother the Queen.
"Do you think I would let him do that? That I want him?" You asked him quietly, a test of his trust.
Aegon turned his head to you, his eyes wide, his soft lips opened slightly and you could see how much he thought about his answer. He did not want you to be angry on him, which you were not.
"I don't hope so," he murmured softly.
"Aegon."
"What?"
You put your hand on his cheek so that he would not look away, because you wanted him to become aware of these words: "I love you, Aegon. You. Not him. Yes, we were betrothed to each other once, but I never had romantic feelings for him. Cregan was always just my friend."
As best as he could, he turned his upper body, so that he could look better into your eyes while leaning his face in your loving touch.
"I love you too. Say, my darling wife, would you like to join your husband in the tub? There would be room on my lap."
You roll playfully with your eyes and let the sponge fall back into the now dirty bathing water. "You can count yourself lucky if I let you into bed at all."
"Do you want me to sleep like a dog in front of the fireplace? A wolf?" He asked you with a grin while he started moving the sponge over his chest again, washing the lingering scent of dragon away.
"I am sure you would enjoy it, when I kept you on a leash," you grinned and sat down on the bed while you looked at him with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. Maybe you should not sleep with each other in a place that was not yours and possibly overkeep the hospitality, but this had been your home. You wanted this.
You observed your husband, how he bit down on his bottom lip in thought and how his violet eyes moved your body up and down. A pleasant warmth spread in your stomach and, following his gaze, he felt the same thing.
"Do you still remember when you told me that I would try to make an effort to have a fourth child?" He asked you, emerging from the tub and grabbing a towel to dry his wet body largely before he would climb into bed with you.
"Of course."
"How would you like it if it was conceived here in the north? In the snow?"
A smile spread on your lips and Aegon replied by letting his towel fell to the ground and quickly climbing on top of you, like he has done so many times before and like he would do it over and over again until you would grow tired of him.
Not Cregan saw you underneath him tonight.
He did.
The next morning, as the sun was just casting its first rays over the white long northern landscape, you were invited to breakfast with Lord Cregan and his son.
The prince wore a black doublet with gold embroidery on the arms and chest over a warm tunic, and over it a warm fur that was almost the same color as his hair. You, on the other hand, wore a dark green dress and a fur cloak over your shoulders, although it was brown rather than white, so that you too would stay warm.
You sat next to each other, with Cregan sitting across from Aegon and little Rickon across from you. The boy was sweet and innocent, and he somehow reminded you of your beloved son Jaehaerys, who was probably playing with his twin sister or studying with a Septa at that very moment.
"I hope you are pleased with your chambers," Cregan said, trying to start a conversation so you did not just have to listen to the sound of chewing or the fire burning calmly in the fireplace.
"Very," your husband answered before you could. "The bed is extremely comfortable and does not creak, even when you exert yourself."
A blush rose in your cheeks and you looked down at your plate to avoid Stark's gaze. Gods, why did he always have to make those lewd comments? You love it when we gets lascivious, but more so within your chambers and not when anyone was listening.
"I am glad to hear that," Lord Cregan finally replied, his tone neutral, taking a long sip from his cup, which was filled with strong northern wine.
His gaze turned back to you, and for a moment you could feel him looking — really looking. This time he did not just see a friend, who had to leave him back then after being betrothed to the prince. He saw the woman you had become over the years. The noble lady who would have been more than worthy of the title of a Lady Stark.
"My lady, how are your children?" he finally asked himself, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. "You have three, right?"
You nodded, and immediately your features softened again, because you loved thinking and talking about your little ones. You were so proud of them, even though they were still so young. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were both four summers old, and Maelor had had his second name day a month ago.
"Yes, exactly. Two boys and a girl," you told him proudly, looking at Aegon, whose gaze never wavered for a second from the man across from him, as if trying to skin him with his gaze.
"Little dragons, I presume?" His question was playful, but Aegon still placed a hand on your thigh under the table. Actually, he had to promise you last night not to be jealous anymore, because otherwise you would not have allowed him to spread your legs and dive into your softest flesh, but he could not help it. Aegon was indeed still jealous.
"Silver hair, violet eyes, and strong lungs," you chuckled, which also brought the briefest hint of a smile to Rickon's face.
"I would have liked to meet them," the Lord said, and his voice sounded as if he actually wanted to. Part of you felt bad that you could only tell him about them, but at least at home, the risk of them catching a cold was smaller.
"I would have liked to bring them, but I do not want them to get sick, and Sunfyre can only carry a maximum of three people. Not five, even if they are small," you answered honestly, to which he nodded his head in understanding.
"Then I suppose I will have to visit King's Landing one day to meet them."
Aegon opened his mouth to reply, but you quickly intervened, knowing your husband would not have been polite: "Of course. You are always welcome at the Red Keep."
“I will take you at your word.”
"I hope you realize he meant it," Aegon grumbled as you led him outside to show him around. You wanted him to see the beauty of the North with his own eyes, not just the bad.
"I know, dear, but enough of that. Look around!" you laughed, spinning around in a circle, the skirt of your dress touching the snow and dirt on the ground as small snowflakes landed in your hair.
"I do," he said, but he did not see the snow, the stone houses, or the trees in the distance. He only looked at you. Always at you.
"Lady Stark!" a woman suddenly called out, her skin wrinkled and her hair graying.
You instinctively turned to the woman, as if answering by that name. Lady Stark. Aegon swallowed the lump in his throat. He did not mean to get angry, but unfortunately he had always been quick to anger.
"Her name is Kastark, and she is no longer a lady, but a princess," Aegon snapped, whereupon the old woman stopped and bowed deeply, which certainly could not do her old knees any good.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I knew her when she was a child," said the woman, still bowing deeply.
"You are the baker," you realized, holding out a helping hand so she would not have to bow any longer. Your husband remained suspicious at your side.
"You have grown so much. And beautiful you have become, too," the old woman gushed, gently squeezing your hand, at which point you could not suppress your smile any longer.
"We were all so sad when your betrothal to our Lord Stark was broken off, because of your father‘s death. You would have made a wonderful Lady Stark."
It was not the words themselves that made Aegon turn around and head back toward the fortress, but the way she said them. It had been so full of hope and regret, as if that old woman were hoping it could still happen. That you would still become the Lady Stark of Winterfell.
"Aegon! Aegon, wait!" you called after him, but he did not want to listen to this conversation any longer. He did not want to be reminded that this Cregan was a good and respectable man who would have made a wonderful husband to you. Probably a much better one than he was. Perhaps you would have been much happier here in the North than with him in the South.
You had always been too good for him, too kind, too polite, too—
"Mm—My prince?" a small voice stammered as he had just climbed the stairs to the entrance lost deep in his tumultuous thoughts.
Little Rickon Stark stood below, looking up at him with wide eyes, as if he did not know what to say, or as if he were afraid of something.
"Yes, boy?" he asked with a sigh. The child was innocent, and he did not want to frighten him.
"I—I wish to see the dragon."
His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head. "He is just up ahead. You have legs, have you not?"
The boy looked down to the ground. "Father forbade me from going to him alone. He said he did not want me to end up like a roasted pig."
Something about the way the boy looked at him reminded him of Jaehaerys. It was probably his eyes, so wide and full of childlike innocence. This boy was the child of his self-proclaimed enemy, but he could not just send him away all sad and disappointed.
Besides, he was talking now, which he did not do before.
"Fine. Come with me," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him toward the gate, where Sunfyre lay curled up together in the snow like a giant cat. Peaceful as ever.
"His name is Sunfyre. The maesters call him the most beautiful dragon that ever roamed this earth," Aegon told him proudly, reaching out to gently stroke his golden scales.
"Is—Is he dangerous?"
A grin formed on his lips, and he could feel his earlier anger slowly fading. "Every dragon is dangerous unless you are its rider."
"Do your children have dragons, too?"
The silver-haired prince shrugged. "They have eggs that will hatch one day, so the gods will, and then, yes, they will have dragons."
"I want a dragon too!" Stark's son exclaimed enthusiastically, and for the first time, he saw him truly smiling broadly, his eyes shining. "I want to fly through the sky and see him breathe fire!"
"Do you Starks not have wolves, or at least big dogs to keep you company?"
"Yes, but father says I am too young to have one," the boy replied, still staring at the dragon with wide eyes.
"And he is right about that," your voice suddenly sounded from the side. You had overheard the conversation from the side, and it warmed your heart. Even though he was grumpy, this was the man you loved. Your lustful, angry, stormy dragon named Aegon Targaryen.
You were happy with him.
You could not help but wrap your arms around your husband and rest your head on his shoulder, which immediately calmed him down, because now you were with him again.
"Go back to your father, little one. Show him your smile," you said, and the boy immediately obeyed, running back toward the fortress where he was going to tell his father about the dragon.
Sunfyre raised his large head and simply looked at the two of you. Somehow, he looked happy, even though he was probably mostly cold. Well, if a dragon could even get cold.
"You are a good man," you whispered in a gentle voice.
For a moment, he said nothing, simply unsure what to say. He was not a good man. He was a drunkard, who had been whoring all the time, before he fell in love with you, and a jealous man who was afraid of losing you. So very afraid.
"I am not, and you know it, my heart," he sighed softly, raising his hand and stroking Sunfyre's chin soothingly.
"And yet I love you," you said, and the honesty in your voice nearly broke his heart in half. Suddenly, he was feeling terrible that he had ever been angry with you, ever thought you were not happy with him, because you were. Your smile told him that every morning.
"Did you hear me? I love you, Aegon," you repeated.
The gold-scaled dragon leaned into his hand, and Aegon blinked rapidly several times to hold back the tears. He did not want to cry, not now. Not out here, where everyone would see his weakness.
"I am so sorry. All you wanted was to see your cursed snow again, and I am ruining all that by being a jealous husband."
You shook your head and stood in front of him so he would look into your eyes and not be distracted by Sunfyre's beauty. The dragon laid his head back on the snowy ground and closed his eyes again. Out here in the north, he seemed to prefer lying around to flying. Perhaps he sensed the Wall, which was a few miles away from this place.
"You have not ruined anything. I understand that you do not like Cregan and that you want me to be safe, but I am. I never had and never will have any romantic interest in him," you told him, and you meant it.
"But I-"
"Stop it," you interrupted, repeating the same words to him you had said to him before: "You are my husband, Aegon. It is my duty and my pride to love you and to call you mine. I love you, I love our children, and I would not trade that for anything in the world. I regret nothing. Nothing."
A lone tear rolled down his cheek, and you moved to stand on your tiptoe and kiss it from his cheek before placing your hands on his chest.
"We have only been here a day, and I already want to go home," he chuckled, his pale cheeks flushing pink.
"You will survive these few days," you smiled, and he leaned toward you to press a tender kiss to your lips.
"As long as you are with me and I can call you mine," he murmured against your lips.
"Always."
And as the snow rained down on both of your heads and you held each other in your arms, he too realized that you would never leave him. You loved him, and he loved you. You and your family, which would hopefully continue to grow some day.
And if all he had to do for that was taking you to see the snow and not murder Cregan Stark, then he would do it.
Hearts of flowers bloom within my most deepest crevices deep within my darkest days of life. I spend every heartbreak bleeding flower pedals, no one knows my love. Baby, take the garden within my heart and nurture my soul. I bloom for you, and only you, my love.
“I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me.” Beau Taplin // Bad and Beautiful
summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you
warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights
this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter
divider by @princessbellecerise
Jacaerys Velaryon
Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you
The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you
Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option
Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him
After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral
Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational
Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?
He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you
Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else
You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no
He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge
“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”
That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated
As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door
No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible
You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that
It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him
Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option
If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane
You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else
The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen
There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think
Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes
When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his
He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony
Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes
Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong
He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care
Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works
A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works
You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true
A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning
You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn’t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms
When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father
When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood
Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision
After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation
As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course
But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected
Aegon Targaryen
Aegon is angry when your father tells him no
And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you
In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond
Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen
You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily
He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed
Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse
You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan
He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked
Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that
Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt
It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you
You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded
All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation
You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach
Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below
Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father
He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing
Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”
Daemon Targaryen
Daemon is amused upon being told no
He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself
After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary
In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says
Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife
And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold
He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment
He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again
He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you
Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you
He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen
If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you
He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme
He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for
With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives
In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies
He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself
And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years
Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that
And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you
He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon
Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you
The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing
He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back
It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars
There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount
As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face
Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word
“Dracarys.”
Lucerys Velaryon
Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal
It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life
Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what
Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan
He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again
And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night
With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring
You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married
Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child
Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow
And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your
concerned father
They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?
And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress
Almost
You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes
“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly
You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins
“Y/N is with child.”
Aemond Targaryen
Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge
Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really
For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead
He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you
The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to
The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker
He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss
They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man
You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles
You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree
After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat
He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision
Don’t call me selfish, I ain’t sharing. You’re mine.
I can’t get this man out of my head.
Geta hated sharing.
He’s already done his fair share of it throughout most of his life, whether it’d be Rome, the throne, it seemed that the only curse that the gods had placed upon him was the curse to share many -if not all- aspects of life with Caracalla. A curse he once thought strong enough to brace the burden of, only to fall short when he finds that he can’t have something without Caracalla having a share of it too, a endless burden that he swore was going to be the death of him sooner or later; only to be remembered as the cruel emperor who shared everything with his brother who was -ironically- also a cruel and ruthless emperor.
Gets desired something of his own so deeply and almost to the point of desperation that once he has found you, he was quick to cling onto you however he could in anyway he could just so fate didn’t conspire against him in the off chance he’d be forced to share you as well; something he wasn’t too keen on have happen because hadn’t he given enough for the gods and the people of Rome to warrant a reward? Or were the gods still playing another trick on him and guiding him towards a false sense of security with you, only for it to be soon revealed that he was once again played the fool by them for their amusement.
However Geta’s hatred towards sharing didn’t stop at his brother but other people also. He didn’t like the idea of people getting to close to what wasn’t theirs to within close proximity in the first place, and while jealously is a strong emotion, what Geta felt went beyond jealously. It was possessiveness and an unhealthy obsessiveness that consumed his thoughts and his heart alike with ideas of keeping you within the palace, locked away in places only he knew and only his eyes could see you.
The idea was tempting but Geta was forced to discard it as soon enough people would ask questions of you situation, possibly to just spread mindlessly rumours that he had done something to you, possibly even killed you. So Geta was made to watch from afar as people flocked to you as his grip on his drink was the tightest it ever was, his jaw clenching in silent and unbridled rage that only gotten worse and worse whenever someone brushed your hand by accident or let their hands linger too long on your shoulders.
The feelings within his chest raged on like an underfed beast and his mind was poisoned to believe that anyone within the room with you both was more than capable of taking you away from him, and he couldn’t exactly have that, not when it felt like his nerves were on fire and his restlessness has begun to take over a with the urge to keep you by his side; showing everyone that you were very much taken by the man who held their fate within one hand and the gods judgment in the other.
So while the gods had cursed Geta with the necessity to share, the gods cursed you to deal with Geta and his possessive hands that gripped your waist as a way to calm his soul, to remind him that he did have you and that nothing could alter that reality; not that anyone dared try without being killed on the spot for trying to take what rightly belong to the emperor of Rome. It was a look that was unbecoming of him but then again Geta wore possessiveness and obsessiveness as finely as he wore silk clothing.
‘My dearest must you always look upon others with eyes filled with the influence of envy? You’re the emperor, what could they possibly possess to threaten you?’ You asked Geta one day when it was just the two of you after Geta had dragged you by the wrist away from an older man and elsewhere.
‘He were looking at you with lustful eyes only I am allowed to express towards you.’ Geta starts, ‘he sought to take you away from me as though you aren’t already mine, that or the idea of stealing what’s rightfully mine entices such men into becoming bold creatures, viewing others who are tethered to another all the more enticing.’ He finishes as he lets go of your wrist to possessively hold your face within one of his hands. His eyes held a fire within them that would burnt anyone within vicinity, making them flinch away in fear, but you have grown accustomed to such a gaze to know it came from a place of hidden fears and insecurities that he wasn’t afforded the privilege to feel as freely nor safely as you.
You only smiled softly as you reached to hold his face between your hands, watching as his gaze faltered for something more softer and sweeter, as he nuzzles himself against your palm. ‘Geta,’ you say softly as you drew him close, resting your forehead against his own, ‘such a thing would never happen when my heart is happily yours, besides you’d have them slain for such even bruising a single finger against my skin.’ You kiss his lips, hearing him sigh deeply once you pulled away, feeling as his hand that hand moved to your neck began to caress the pulse point there softly, almost observant of his it reacts to him before you continued.
‘My heart and soul were crafted by the gods to love yours, for now unto eternity and even beyond that for we are intertwined my dearest Geta, and should such a creature who dares to call himself a man act against such knowledge is going against the will of the gods.’ You finished as you searched his dark, rich eyes in hopes that your words had soothed some part of his possessiveness away for something more palatable. You knew this to be truth so why couldn’t he? Many people were too fearful to look you in the eyes directly some of the times in due to who you were fated with, and even those who were bold enough to speak to you were members of his court or his brother Caracalla.
‘Your honeyed words are balms to my heart.’ Geta says, his head now clear of all that once clouded it mere moments prior as a smile now graced his lips. ‘Some might believe you a witch with how you calm me.’ He teases as his hand squeezed your neck ever so slightly before his thumb came back to caress your pulse once more as his eyes took in every aspect of you now that the anger and possessiveness has faded from view, leaving only you to be seen clearly within his peripherals that softened as the light made his dark eyes look akin to that of warm golden syrup.
‘They can call me whatever they wish but they can never call me theirs like you can my emperor.’ You replied as you smiled softly at him, glad to have the man that you were privy to behind closed doors come back to you. ‘However I do have to say that your possessiveness was quite…enticing in and of itself in retrospect.’ You then add playfully as you eased his hand from your neck to kiss his knuckles. ‘Now will you come join me in the garden or do you have somewhere else in mind you’d wish to take this discussion further?’
Geta made a face of thought before smirking as he then intertwined your fingers and lead you towards your shared chambers. ‘That should be quite self explanatory my beloved, after all what I’m about to do to you should be all too reminiscent of the prior events of last nights…mishap.’ He tells you and needless to say neither of you left your chambers for the rest of the day or night for that matter.
[You meet Noritoshi Kamo for the first time in your life at the age of 7. He sucks at making sandcastles.]
tw: arranged marriage au, forced marriage, child marriage (not yet but soon, my condolences), noritoshi x reader, no use of 'y/n'. fluff, angst (a little i suppose?), no smut
#2 : The Ring Ceremony
This Kamo boy was annoying you- he just couldn’t get the sandcastle towers correct. “Hey!” you yell out, “I’m telling you again, we only need one tower on each side, and not crooked like you are making, what are you even doing?”
He looks up at you. Perhaps. Under all the pin straight shoulder length hair and creased brows, you weren’t sure where his focus was.
“Kamo-san, I’m telling you, just do as I tell you to!”
Noritoshi had been playing house with a seven-and-a-half-year-old you for the past hour, outside your home. The Zenin estate, he mused, was large and luxurious, and clearly comfortable for you. Two maids watched over you two playing, following whatever you ordered them to. Guards patrol the periphery of the estate, just out of sight. Both the Zenin and Kamo families, discussing matters in the house overlooking your playground, cast a happy glance over you now and then. And you, a beloved daughter of the Zenins, have clearly no idea what is going on.
How should I break it to her? Noritoshi was significantly older than you; he was almost 12, and enrolled to start Jujutsu Tech School within the next coupe years. Should I even? Perhaps I should let her enjoy her life for now.
“Kamo-san” you were starting to bristle with anger, never having been ignored in your life. This guy can’t just come into your house and into your playground and then ignore you. “Kamo-san, what are you thinking about that is so important, huh?”
Noritoshi got up, accidentally breaking a sand-tower he had made to please you, and walked back towards the house, without a word. You stared at him, indignant. Fine, you thought, if he doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t play. Nii-chan will play with me. You ask a maid to bring her to you, and moments later she comes back with a worried looking Mai. “Is everything okay, Einstein-chan?”
You giggled at her as she took that idiot Kamo boy’s place. “Oh, is our little Einstein girl happy now?” She smiled too, pinching your cheeks. Of the twins, Mai was the one who doted on you. Maki was… distant, maybe? Not very interested, you suppose? It wasn’t yours to solve, so you didn’t care much about it, especially not when Mai would bring you sweets and flowers and play with you. Life was great. You were beloved, pampered and indulged in– what more could a child need?
“Nii-chan” you whined, trying to wheedle some sympathy chocolates out of her. “Kamo-san just left, and he broke my towers too.” But Mai, instead of being angry on your behalf, just laughed.
“You must forgive him, sweetcheeks, and also- don’t call him that. Say ‘Noritoshi-sama’, okay?”
“Don’t be overbearing, Mai”. You whip your head, where did Maki even come from? “Do you want to play too, nii-chan?”--you offered Maki.
“Hmm? What are you playing?”
“House, we’re making a castle and then we’ll make the princess and then rescue her, or burn her at the stake, whichever you like, nii-chan” You beam up at Maki, who doesn’t return the enthusiasm one bit, in fact, she whistles and crouches down to your level. Mai tells her to stop, don’t do anything rash, please don’t make matters worse, please don’t, but Maki doesn’t seem to even hear it. The maids around you look a bit, what is that emotion? Perturbed? But you can tell, having no power to stop Maki, they do their best to look away, as if they were no witness or accomplice to whatever Maki has planned. Panic hits you all of a sudden, what’s happening? What’s wrong?
And then Maki says, “Why don’t you go up to the house and show everyone your talent?”
Mai is angry at Maki, she says something harshly, the maids, where are they? The sandcastle breaks as you gingerly step over it, over the playground, to the house full of your whole family, the Kamo family, they are all laughing and drinking and talking and there is your mother, in the corner, and your father, stamping his sign on papers amid cheers and pats to his back, and there is the Kamo boy, there is Noritoshi-sama.
Cursed Technique: Distillation
Time pauses. So does everyone and everything. The papers your father is stamping is regarding the distribution of the conjoined assets of the Kamo and Zenin clans after your marriage. Naoya, your cousin, is congratulating your father, but he’s not very happy actually, he had wanted to marry you eventually. The Kamos are demanding a dowry of 40 million yen for Noritoshi’s Blood Manipulation technique, but Grandpa Naobito is refusing thoroughly, and demanding an equal bride price of 47.5 million yen: 40 million for your Distillation technique and 7.5 million for your youth. The sake they are drinking was chosen by Noritoshi’s step-mother. The ring ceremony is in three months from now, and the wedding when you reach menarche. Your family is really happy. The Kamos are begrudgingly happy. Noritoshi has accepted his fate, no further opinions beyond that. You are to be married to Noritoshi Kamo.
—-
The words of delight seeing you in the room start falling silent when you start wailing, sobbing, screaming. You just stand there and cry loudly, the way little children do. Your mother promptly picks you up, apologizes, and whisks you away. As you walk away, still crying, you hear your family try to soothe the situation, hearing phrases like: “ …gets overwhelmed using her cursed technique…” “ …just a child, hahaha, got shy…” “... yes yes, too shy, a young bride, hee-hee, what a cutie …” and you begin to cry even harder.
If the Kamos were disturbed at the impolite interruption, nothing came of it. You were arranged to be given in marriage to Noritoshi Kamo, in a few years from now on.
----
A/N: I'll explain Distillation further dw, tho it is pretty clear even now, lemme know if i should tag you!
warning: implied death of loved one, significant other loss, angst may occur.
A loud creaking sound of the door alerted the bartender. They were preparing for a bombardment of drunkards on their last stop. Youths who came for a drink after clubbing, or the occasional regular surge of office workers after a long day on the job. He expected the same from few to far between regulars who always came for a quick drink or two, sometimes more as they drowned down their worries with liquid courage.
But what they least expected was to see, you, and the sight of you was quite horrifying, to be completely honest. Mangled, knotted and twisted hair in what could be described as a rat's nest sat atop your head. Your hair looked messy, and that was putting it nicely. Disheveled, battered jeans that seemed to have way too many rips for comfort, that plain white t-shirt you oddly like to wear on the weekends, and those distinctive recognizable dreadful squeaky shoes he could hear from a mile away. Chapped lips, bloody, and bruised finger nails from that horrific habit of biting your nails whenever your stressed out, or feeling overwhelmed with your thoughts and emotions. He feared you were going to rip out your hair with the way you were gripping onto the roots of your scalp. Your eyes were bloodshot and held a distinctive glassy look to them that he recognized instantly; it was apparent to anyone that looked at you that you had been crying. From the way your mascara was smudged at the corner of your eyes, or the way your nose seemed to remind him of a cherry tomato.
He found himself focusing on your face. He noticed the way your makeup seemed slightly off, and more dewy then usual, or maybe it was the tear streaks dripped all the way down the apple of your cheeks. Oddly enough he thought you looked hypnotizing, similar to that of the heavy rain that was currently thrashing against the windowsill in a recurring stream. Was it the rain, or was it your tears, he didn’t really have the heart to ask.
“Bad day?”
“Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t ask you much about why you were doing out so late, it was a apparent to anyone you looked like you needed a break from whatever you found yourself enstrangled in recently.
“I can tell.” He didn’t mean to let it slip past his lips, but his mouth had a mind of its own. And he felt himself shuttering at the thought of being so thoughtless, especially towards you in your current state.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life. I was just worried about you is all.” He stammered out a apology, he was expecting a harsh response, maybe a demand for compensation, a scoff even, but he was taken aback by your reaction or lack therefore of one.
“It’s okay.” her lips were pressed together in a gentle smile as the teardrops fell down her flushed cheeks.
“Burbon?”
There was something about the taste of burbon that reminded me of the way he used to kiss me —gently, but with a bite to it.
“Your favorite, right?” he asks gently, in contrast to her rough swing of the glass against her hand. He stared as she gulped down the drink in one fell swoop.
She drank down her grief like it was the finest wine. Like it was the purest blood. After a while, she can never tell the difference between pleasure and pain.
“Umm, no. It wasn’t my favorite, but I grew to like the taste.”
Actually burbon was never really her favorite, she only drank it because it was his.
You reply it over, and over like a broken record stuck on repeat. The memory overflows, and spills out into a harsh wave of regret, heartache and despair. The memories are so vivid, it’s so beautiful and painstakingly solemn at the same time.
“Bourbon is a type of whiskey, much the way that Champagne is a type of wine. So all bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon.”
“I don’t get it.”
“All Bourbon is whiskey but not all whiskey is a bourbon.”
“Still don’t get it.”
“I hear they just opened up a new bar on main street, I’ll take you to there, next time. Maybe try some burbon while we’re at it.”
“I don’t think trying burbon is gonna help me understand the complexity of how it’s brewed or if it’s whiskey or not.”
“We’ll see, but I can’t wait for you to try it. I promise you’re gonna love it!”
The memories of him, you try to keep them ingrained within your mind, forever. From the way he used to grin after telling you a joke, the way his laughter almost always seemed contagious to a fault, the way his smile lines became more prominent whenever he grinned at you, the way his demeanor carried a sense of security, and love, the feeling of pure joy would fill his voice whenever he talked about his dreams, and aspirations for the future. The future that was painstakingly cut too short. The memories are still so vivid, and painful to recall, but they’re the only ones your left with now.
The air was warmer, and the sun shined brighter, and his voice sounded more prominent back, then. Now your faced with the painstaking truth of forgetting the way he used to call out your name, and it scares you. It feels like a nightmare, the terrifying feeling of being faced with never seeing the person you love the most in the world ever, again.
“You only drink hard liquor? Or are you going hard on me, huh?”
“Depends, I don’t think bartenders are supposed to drink with the customers.”
“We can make exceptions, I am the owner after all.” he says with a grin.
And he had no other words to describe what he felt, but heartbreak.
You’re never going to forget him. You’re always going to love the color of his eyes, and you’re going to search for someone with the same contagious laugh. You’re never going to fully let go of him. You’re going to have those nights when all the regret and pain comes rushing back. You’re going to miss him with all your heart, but you’re going to be okay.
Because that’s what living on means for you, and for him. He’ll always be in your heart, living on through you.
And now they’re only a memory. A fragment of his soul remains with yours. But how could you possibly live with this pain. This heartbreaking truth, of never getting the opportunity of telling them you love them ever again, never being able to feel the warmth of their embrace, the touch of their caress, hearing the ring of they’re voice greet you with such enthusiasm, nor will you ever be able to give them the love they gave you. But you must live on.
Maybe it’s okay to miss them when you’re trying to move on. Maybe it’s okay to cry on days like this and feel lost until dawn. Maybe it’s okay to constantly ask yourself why? Why did it have to end like this when all those times I thought it would end like in the movies, I’ve seen before.
Happy ending? But where’s mine, you continually ask yourself tearful, woefully.
Maybe it’s okay to hurt, somedays. Maybe it’s okay to heal, somedays. Maybe it’s okay to remember, and miss the person that gave you’re life a color. After all, they are the red stitch that was once woven into the fabric of your very soul.
But today, you’ll take one step at a time. Recalling memories, if that helps. Just today, you tell yourself solemnly.
You remember you were just a little less broken back then, and sometimes you wish that you could just glue the shattered pieces back together again, but how do you do that when someone took a piece of your heart with them when then left.
They say that grief is just love with nowhere to go.
And maybe you never knew what that truly meant, until you lost him; but that was then. Now you didn’t need to look back only forward. For something that was lost, because if it was meant to be, it would have been. But that’s just what people say to make themselves feel better.
But today, you’ll just take it easy.
He is many things, but one thing he couldn’t be was yours. For your heart belonged, yearned, and loved another.
“His voice. Please don’t let me forget his voice.” you often told yourself in moments of desperation, like a prayer you mumbled this to yourself on days such as this.
Lips up to a glass of liquid courage, and your heart set ablaze. Even as you downed cup after cup, and the alcohol began to burn at your throat you wondered out loud.
“I never understood why someone would drown their sorrows in alcohol, until now.” she said solemnly.
The only source of light came from the shallow lights bouncing off the corners of the room. The atmosphere was rigid. He stilled his sights upon you, who was seated infront of him. The words that were so heavily engraved in his mind overflow with curiosity and suspense slipped off of his lips, out onto the world.
“It’s okay for you to cry, the sky does it too.” he says almost apologetically, as he points to the nearby window being thrashing against by the falling rain.
Some people cry with tears, others with thoughts.
“I know.” you reply softly, with a hint of sorrow stuck within your throat as the tears begin to pour down your cheeks.
guardian angel is supposed to protect and guide you. he puts time and effort into maintaining your peace and safety so imagine his horror when you choose to blindly trust and follow such depraved people.
at first guardian angel solely said it was for your own spiritual salvation, keeping those soul sucking recruiters away from your pure and genuine soul. he was more so concerned with your own spiritual healing then you converting.
but as time went on, he started looking at your horrible dating history, the men you choose to let into your life were horribly deprived fiends. he had half a mind to deal with them on the spot, although that wouldn’t be quite angel like now would it. but as time went on, your dating habits turned from bad to worse. dating emotionally unavailable, constipated man-child, narcissists foul mouth filth that were lower then gum stick on the sole of a shoe. because that’s what they were, because a real decent man much less decent person would continue to deceive such a kind hearted person like you.
at first you started to think there was something wrong with yourself, why weren’t you getting dates, no good men would treat you like that right? but the only ones you were able to attract were not so kind and honest. you prayed to your guardian angel to make you change. to save your soul and heart, give a chance to you. give you a gift of a beautiful relationship with a loving and respectful partner.
at first he started seeking happiness for you, pleading to his superiors to give you the saving grace to lead a healthy, and happier life. but then the thought no mortal men could compare to your ethereal splendor sent him down a rabbit hole known as obsession. at first, it started with him obsessively looking out for your health, heart and safely. then it progressed into him obviously wanting, obsessing over your love life. he couldn’t comprehend how such a beautiful soul such as you could only attract bad men. because to guardian angel all men were unworthy of your love, much less your existence.
guardian angel started sabotaging your dates, he would show up to the potential date’s house and started leaving warnings and letters detailing how they weren’t a match, and how you deserved way better then them. at first it was advice, he detailed his opinions on how it wouldn’t last and divulging into unhinged rants. the date would usually brush it off, at first but then they started receiving threats and unsatisfactory responses to they’re continued behavior and communication to you. guardian angel even started causing problems with the other guardian angels, causing distress and disruptions in paperwork and other-worldly relationships so the other angel wouldn’t be present to attend to that man, but be busy with work.
he started off with petty stuff, like tripping them and throwing strong winds into their path, rain and thunderstorms. but unfortunately this man was a little too persistent. rain or shine, he would always make his way to the date. unfortunately every attempt to distract him, even inconvenience him was futile because he was too persistent, so guardian angel became petty and started sabotaging the dates. the waiter that spilled a entire tray of plates of food on your date, was his doing. the dog chasing after him and bit off the fabric of one of his pants legs, as he climbed up a tree was devious but satisfying. still that wasn’t enough to scare the man off, so guardian angel decided he would shamelessly make his life hell on earth.
guardian angel started sabotaging his professional development and career. the promotion was delayed, ended with another person receiving such promotions. the stress of work got to the man, unable to make further progress, resulting in a demotion. work was horribly stressful and home life wasn’t much better. from having a great relationship with his family, it dwindled into nonexistent. work was consuming, familial relationships was on the rocks. the tipping point was when you recommended a change of hairstyle to liven his mood. but you accidentally bleached his hair, too much resulting in him having it all fall off. he fell off the cliff, blew up calling you every name in the book. pressure and unrealistic expectations were constantly adding pressure to him, and he exploded at you.
guardian angel made it so, the pressure was consuming and the things he said were rooted in your worst insecurities and even traumas. guardian angel wasn’t even phased when you broke up with that undeserving man on the spot. he cried and pleaded with you, but guardian angel didn’t relent. one misfortune after another had that man crumbling, he even had a little trouble with the law. ex boyfriend started stalking and threatening you, soon afterwords.
but don’t worry, you’re guardian angel took care of it. unconditional (obession) love was his drive, so he made sure you’re life would go back to normal, before you were intertwined with such individuals. guardian angel’s love reached a point of no return, and now he wouldn’t care to share you with anyone else.
guardian angel only had one goal, in mind. keeping you safe and healthy. but his only motivation was corrupted along the way. he only desired you, being his. only his forever and always. he plagued your dating life, with misfortune with the sole purpose of being your saving grace. he made sure, he would be your one and last hope for your happy ever after.
Contains ✰ sfw! slight possessive behavior, tiny amount of jealousy, little bit of territorial behavior, minor pda, content of the boys being tested in a way?
Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩
Sakura knew something was off but couldn’t exactly pin point what it was. you went in for a hug since you haven’t seen your boyfriend all day. it was while he was in your embrace he inhaled a scent, a masculine smell that wasn’t yours or his, his eyebrows immediately furrowed. once you pulled away he examined your body, you looked fine, no visible marks, your outfit was normal… except for that over sized sweatshirt that was draped over your body.
“where’d you get that from?” he asked completely cutting off your babbling. you frowned over his abrupt interruption to your story. he didn’t even look sorry that he ruined your story just blankly staring at you until you opened your mouth to answer.
“a friend from class gave it to me, i was cold.” you answered confused why he was making it a thing. Sakura wasn’t the type to get jealous, it hadn’t even crossed your mind that something like this would ever bother him.
“what friend? boy or girl?” huh, what type of question was that? why would he ask that? there’s no way he could be bothered by something so small, right?
“uhm… a boy? does that matter?” you asked with your eyebrows slightly raised. you had never seen Sakura act so… weird? not over something like this.
“no, just curious.” he finally muttered out after what felt like a lifetime pause. the two of you continued your walk back home in silence. the entire time Sakura couldn’t fight off that frown setting on his perfect face. his eyes were stuck in a trance on you, more like that sweater on your body. you felt your entire body heating up by his intense stare.
you let out a sigh, getting the hint he was clearly upset over the sweater. you stopped in your tracks and pulled the sweater off your body. your boyfriends face immediately perked up after seeing you take it off. he was secretly grateful you did that because he was very unsure how to go about the conversation. before you even knew it, he was already taking off his jacket and putting it on you. you blushed at his action, it wasn’t something you were expecting him to do.
“just come to me whenever you’re cold from now on. i’ll warm you up.” he softly says with the warmest blush spreading across his face.
Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩
Umemiya is rather calm in most situations so something like this doesn’t necessarily trigger him into doing anything drastic. he didn’t think much of it, until you kept wearing it for the rest of the day— then he started thinking ‘it seriously can’t be that cold, take it off already.’ he didn’t want to ask you whose jacket it was since he didn’t want to come off as jealous… even if he is. one thing he did know for sure was that everyone knew you two were dating. he couldn’t help himself anymore before he started taking off his jacket and removing the one you were wearing. he did it so quickly you almost didn’t even get the chance to register what he did. before you knew it his jacket was wrapped around you. you opened your mouth to ask—
“i just thought you’d look better with mine on.” he cut you off before smiling. his words caused you to blush.
“thank you.” you mumbled still registering what had just happened. he took your hand and interlocked it with his own and continued your walk home.
“who’s jacket is it? i’ll make sure to return it for you.” he smoothly says trying to pry the information of who gave it to you in a subtle way. at least, his version of subtle.
“oh- hm i actually don’t even remember. i almost forgot i was wearing it.” you’re confused now since you actually can’t remember who gave it to you. you stopped in your tracks, deep in thought trying to remember. “ah! i remember now, don’t worry about giving it to her. I can do that myself.” you exclaimed happily as you finally remembered the nice girl who lent it to you. she said it was her older brothers but she was always stealing his jackets and hoodies.
“oh good, i’m glad to hear that.” he smiled as you reached out to grab the jacket from his hands. he was relieved to hear that the jacket was from an innocent classmate of yours.
Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩
as if anyone could even beat Suo into giving you a jacket before he does. Suo had already noticed the way your body was slightly trembling underneath the vent of the air conditioner. however, he also noticed another boy in the corner of his eye looking at you as well. he saw as the boy already begun taking off his jacket and making his way up to you. Suo suddenly felt this urge of territorial dominance creeping up as he wanted to show that you were his. before the boy could reach you Suo wrapped his arm around your chair and pulled your seat/desk closer to his.
“my poor baby, you’re cold. let me warm you up.” he offered with a smile before pulling you into his arms. your body instantly warmed up due to his own warmth. you happily accepted his offer as you buried yourself against his chest meanwhile he hugged you and rubbed your back with his warm hands.
Suo turned to look at the boy who already walked away after noticing you had a boyfriend to keep you warm. he let out a small sigh before keeping you huddled up on his side for the rest of class.
Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩
he didn’t even realize the jacket you were wearing wasn’t yours. it looked so perfect and well fitted on you he actually thought nothing of it. the two of you were spending the whole day together and he said nothing about it. until you took it off and he noticed the name on the tag wasn’t yours.
“this isn’t your jacket?” he finally asked looking closer at it.
“oh no. it’s my friends, she let me borrow it after i forgot to bring mine.” you admitted slightly embarrassed you forgot to bring a jacket.
“i thought it was yours this whole time…” he paused, he was unsure of what to feel. should he be jealous? is it not a big deal? should he offer his instead? he decided to listen to his gut feeling. “are you still cold?”
“a little i guess, her jackets pretty thin so i can still feel the air through it.”
“here, take mine instead.”
“thank you.”
“of course! ask me for my jacket next time you’re cold, i have no problem giving it to you.” he smiled before taking your friends jacket and carrying it for you. Nirei didn’t actually care about you wearing someone else’s jacket as long as you weren’t cold, however, he still would prefer seeing you in his jacket before anyone else’s.
Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩
“take that thing off.” Togame wasted no time expressing his feelings about you wearing another man’s clothes. in all honesty, it irked him way more than he liked to admit. his mind was racing with thoughts of who would be stupid enough to give you their jacket, knowing that you’re his girlfriend.
“huh?? why? i’m cold.” you pouted not wanting to remove the soft material off of your body.
“it’s ugly, you don’t need it. take it off.” his voice was way more stern this time. a small part of you wanted to stand your ground and say no. however, a much larger and smarter part of you knew it was better not to. you took off the jacket with a frown before he snatched it away from your hands.
“wear this instead, my girlfriend shouldn’t go around wearing other men’s clothing.” he scolded while handing over his Shishitoren jacket to you. you wanted to argue but you couldn’t help blushing at his possessive behavior. it shouldn’t have such a strong affect on you but it does.
“who gave it to you anyways? give me a name.” he ordered while scoping out the jacket. it looked strangely familiar but he couldn’t exactly remember where he’s seen it before.
“it’s Choji’s jacket. he offered it to me and said I can keep it until I find you.” you answered with a bright smile. Choji’s gesture meant no harm since he was just trying to look out for his best friend’s girlfriend. he knew Togame wouldn’t have an issue if he knew it was his jacket. yes, you were well-aware of the fact that Togame was only mad because he thought it was someone else’s jacket.
“oh.” the realization settling in as his whole demeanor changed into something more relaxed.
“yes, oh.” you giggled. you could’ve told him sooner that it was Choji’s but where’s the fun in that?
“you called Choji’s jacket ugly.”
“shut up, you should’ve said something sooner.”
Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩
Choji’s mood went from 100 to 0 real quick. his very bright and wide smile getting wiped off his face as his eyes landed on the jacket you were wearing. you tilted your head in confusion to his sudden mood shift. he was usually ecstatic to see you, you couldn’t help but sadden at the lack of emotion he was expressing towards you. were you two in the middle of a fight? had you argued with him and forgot? you didn’t know why he reacted like that. Choji walked up towards you and swiftly took off the jacket from your body. it happened so fast you couldn’t process what even happened. the emotion of confusion stayed in your body as he walked past you with the jacket thrown over his shoulder.
Choji made it his business as leader of Shishitoren to know everything and everyone. as soon as he saw that jacket on you he knew exactly who it belonged to. once you snapped back into reality you chased Choji down slightly worried about what he was planning to do. you found him with the guy who offered you the jacket by the Ori. you watched from a distance as Choji roughly chucked the jacket to the sitting boy’s face. the boy immediately stood up ready to defend himself.
“keep your filthy jacket to yourself and off my girlfriend from here on out.” Choji spat completely unamused by the whole situation. before the boy could even defend himself, Choji’s dark glare silenced him causing him to sit back down before muttering out a small “i understand.” he truly meant no harm by giving you his jacket but in hindsight he really should’ve known better than to do something so stupid. especially when considering you’re his leader’s girlfriend. Choji left it at that, it was his way of showing mercy and restraint.
“oh, you’re here.” he smiled once noticing you at the end of the street. before you could even respond he clashed himself against your lips roughly deepening the kiss as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat. you felt your face getting red, Choji typically wasn’t so affectionate in public, you knew he was doing this to prove a point. your grip tightened around his shirt before you pulled yourself off, small pants escaping from your lips.
“Cho-Choji you can’t just do that.” you argued extremely flustered.
“sorry! i forget you can get so shy, my pretty girl.” he smiled before softly giving you one more kiss. he had no doubt that the boy who gave you his jacket and his friends had all watched your little display of affection. he didn’t mind them watching, he wanted to remind everyone who exactly you belonged to. Choji wrapped an arm around your waist before pulling you closer as the two of you walked off.
