@worthyheir : ❝ i hoped that you would come. ❞
𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑺 𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑬𝑷 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑶𝑫𝑺. except for now , which he walks with purpose — strength enough within to rival the bulk of his own arm. it feels familiar and warm. he is in the right place.
his prince's words sing into his ears as he shuts the heavy , wooden door to jacaerys' chamber. it's the first of such invitations — mostly any late night together they would spend in his own. two chairs by the stoked fire and never moving.
his eyes wander to the fire in front of his prince. roaring and something to sink his existence into. some stopper in the spilling of his own soul. and it takes a large pull from his chest — as though an arm protrudes from it , to guide his mind elsewhere. he could act as though nature pulls at every facet of his being and yet still leave the prince's chambers unsatisfied. tonight , especially , there must exist something more. born of winter and calloused hands and something warm that could fill the cracks in his own being : he takes the RISK.
perhaps his prince had hoped he would come solely to keep him company and perhaps his prince had hoped for something more. days upon days of looks and body language tells cregan that the odds are in his favor — the prince hopes for more. as does he. he strides toward jacaerys. right hand grips his forearm. left hand grazes his princes's neck — tentatively and yet tenderly all the same. he does not feel as though words might convey his desires of the evening. and so he swallows them all and places his lips upon jacaerys'. warm and feeling of sunrise and warming him quicker than the walls of winterfell. this is a life — could be a life. just him , lost within his friend forever. no one or nothing able to determine where one of them begins and the other ends. it's a life.