#tom taylor

[artemisuns]

when i'm at the 'who loves their coworker the most' contest and these mf show up

[sylasthegrim]

Sons of the Wolf

Pairing • Cregan Stark x Targaryen reader

Tags • semi-graphic depiction of childbirth, protective Cregan, hurt and comfort, fluffy ending

Wordcount • 2,290

On your way to Dragonstone to visit your sister Rhaenyra, you find yourself in labor during your stop in King’s Landing. Cregan protects you from Alicent’s intrusiveness.

Cregan Masterlist

Laboring in the dreary atmosphere of the Red Keep had not been part of your plans. You had wished to give birth on Dragonstone, where your older sister Rhaenyra now resided, and had made your way south in good time, or so you had believed.

Your first child Rickon was his father’s pride and joy, a dark-haired beauty with a strong disposition and all the classic Stark features. Cregan loved his little son and had been eager to see you round with a second child.

Your second pregnancy had been slightly unpleasant but until then, you had yet to feel any pains or fatigue that would signal the nearness of your term. However on the eve of your departure from King’s Landing, your labor pains had suddenly started in the afternoon.

Forced to remain in the Red Keep, you had been given your elder sister’s old rooms for your longer stay, the ones you had spent many evenings of your childhood, making plans for the future with Rhaenyra.

Now the afternoon had turned into night, darkness falling over the Keep, and your labors had not progressed. Several midwives were fussing over you and the Maester hovered over your shaking form, trying to keep your lord husband away.

“It is not custom, Lord Stark, that the father be present during the birth. You are welcome to wait in the corridor and we shall call upon you when the child is in hand,” the Maester informed him carefully, but still the solemn northern lord squared his shoulders.

“Customs be damned, I shall not abandon my wife while she suffers to bring my child into this world,” he replied, and the raised voices and tense tones only added to your distress.

“Air, air,” you cried out, pushing one of the midwives away from you. She looked upon you with pity, turning to your husband with a sad look on her face. “I need air!” you wailed, frantically pacing.

“What is happening?” Cregan hissed to her, struggling to keep his composure. Your labors with Rickon had been painful but hadn’t carried any of this urgency and he dreaded to think what this unexpected panic meant for you and the child.

“She is unsettled, unable to find her breath,” she replied, shaking her head in worry. “Perhaps some air would indeed help.”

“All the windows are open already,” the Maester placated.

“Can you walk?” Cregan inquired, offering you his arm which you took eagerly.

“Please,” you begged, clinging to his shirt, the linen bunching under your hands. He had discarded his thick doublet a while ago, his worry making his blood run hotter than usual.

He welcomed you into his arms and you grunted through your next contraction, furiously breathing in his familiar scent. “I want to go outside, to the Godswoods,” you whined into his neck.

“Let us walk, then,” Cregan replied, and the midwife came to take your other arm, supporting you. Another kneeled in front of you, slipping your bare feet into slippers.

“My Lord, she should be abed,” the Maester continued and this time Cregan couldn’t reign in his temper.

“Silence! If my wife needs to walk then she shall,” he admonished, and the old man could only obey.

Holding your swollen belly with one hand, the other clutching Cregan’s arm, you painstakingly walked to the Weirwood tree. Your pained panting resonated in the empty corridors, but you finally breathed in relief as the cold night air hit your face.

Cregan prayed to your Gods in the secrecy of his mind, unsure if they would be listening—please bring her peace and ease, he pleaded as you leaned your forehead against the white bark.

Your groans and whines broke your whispered prayers, and for a long while Cregan held you throughout each of the waves that stole your breath and seized your body. Pressing his lips to your hair and murmuring praises, he supported you with hands to your elbows, until you cried out suddenly, bending forward.

The midwife rushed to you, kneeling at your feet and pulling the lapels of your robe open; your shift was wet, tainted with pinkish fluids. “Her waters have burst,” she said with joy, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“The babe is coming, I can feel it,” you laughed through the pain. An intense pressure came to your core, familiar and permeating. You had done this once before, delivering a son quickly after your waters had come and now you were confident you could do it again.

You slowly walked back to your rooms, feeling the babe make their descent into your hips with each step. Once again you refused to lay down and this time the Maester held his tongue, stepping out to leave you alone with the midwives and your lord husband.

Standing at the foot of the bed, you held onto the bedpost with all your might as the pressure grew until you heaved. You could vaguely feel your husband’s large hands rub soothing circles on your lower back, praising you softly as you panted and cried, and soon an urgent feeling overwhelmed you until you almost choked.

“Cregan!” you called, pulling urgently at your shift, your skin erupting with an unbearable heat.

He knelt in front of you, holding the fabric away as you groaned and pushed, your body yielding to the pain. Your core felt as though it was being cleaved in two, but the midwives’ joyous cries kept you going.

“Our babe is coming, my love, the head is out,” you heard Cregan gasp.

He watched, mesmerized, as a midwife caught the babe’s shoulders, and another took the fabric from his hands—together they encouraged him to reach between your legs. With a great cry you delivered a final push, and soon he was catching his child with his own calloused hands.

Those were the hands of a warrior, rough and dry, and now they were holding the first breath of his second child. Tears came to his eyes as you collapsed against the bed, aided by your lady, grateful sobs wracking your frame at the sight of your lord husband holding your crying babe.

His usually solemn face was trembling with emotion, utter joy and love painted over his noble features. “You have a son, my lady, my lord,” the older midwife said. “Healthy as can be.”

Cregan sat at your side as you laid down on the sheets, and he put the babe against your breast as the afterbirth came and the cord was cut. “You did admirably, my love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your hair.

You closed your eyes for a moment, surely exhausted, but to your husband’s dismay a maidservant entered your rooms.

Head lowered, she spoke in a meek voice. “It is custom, my Lord, that the babe is brought to the queen.”

Silence fell over you and your midwife sighed in regret. Surely the Maester had reported the impeding birth to Queen Alicent, robbing you of your peace. Without a word you pushed yourself from the bed, finding your feet with as much confidence as a newborn foal.

“Wife, you should remain abed,” Cregan admonished.

“Yes I should, but I would not stay in bed while my child is carried away,” you replied, clutching your son to your chest.

“Allow me to carry him, at the least,” he pleaded, and you allowed him to take him into his arms, cradling his small body to his chest. The baby fussed for a moment, but settled with a soothing hum from his father.

Your wobbled out of the room, pushing past the servant. Your sworn shield, Ser Erryk, called your name in surprise as you left the room, determined to match to the queen’s chambers with all your spite.

“Ser Erryk, please escort the princess,” came the order from Cregan, and the knight rushed to obey.

“This quarrel shall never end,” you complained to your husband as you were lead up the stairs, grateful that the late hour allowed you privacy from the prying eyes of the courtiers. “Her dislike for my sister does permeate everything.”

You remained silent save for uncomfortable grunts as you walked up the stairs, steadied by Ser Erryk’s strength. At your side, Cregan was carrying the drowsy babe, at which you smiled every time you paused for breath.

The Queen’s chambers were dimly lit as you entered, closely followed by your lord husband. He did not greet her, only nodded solemnly, which she did not comment on.

“Princess,” she said quietly, putting on a false smile. “Lord Stark. What a wonderful news in this cold evening.”

“Queen Alicent,” your husband replied coldly.

She approached, peering up at the bundle of linens. “A son,” he murmured, hiding his joy—he was a man of reserve, and did not wish to share his happiness with the queen.

“Little Rickon is surely elated to have a brother,” she replied.

“He will be when he learns of the news, we haven’t had the time to introduce him yet,” you said.

“Shouldn’t you be abed, Princess?” she suddenly gasped, as though she was only now realizing you were standing.

“Yes I should, your grace,” you replied curtly.

Cregan took in a sharp breath as Alicent pulled a lapel of the linens aside, and her face faltered slightly as she noticed the babe’s stark white hair. She had started her custom of seeing every babe born to noble ladies in the Keep after the birth of Prince Lucerys, curls as dark as his eyes.

Nature was strange indeed, and now that you had had a raven-haired child as well as one pale as snow, it did cast the shadow of doubt upon the queen's mind. “What is your son to be called, Lord Stark?” she asked, stepping away.

“We have not—” you started, but your husband’s answer stunned you into silence.

“Baelon.”

Tears rose to your eyes and you gasped audibly, reaching for your husband’s arm. You had often spoken of your departed brother, lamenting that you would only ever speak in this name with grief—you hadn’t dared suggesting it for your own children, as you thought a northern name would be preferred.

“Unusual name for a Stark,” the queen commented, and Cregan raised his chin in pride.

“A perfectly appropriate name for a child with dragon blood,” he replied. “Furthermore I thought it appropriate to pay homage to Queen Aemma, and to her departed son.”

Understanding dawned on Alicent’s face, but her gaze was looking over your husband’s shoulder. “A most kind gesture, Lord Stark,” said the king’s voice, and as your turned, you noticed your father standing in the doorway.

“Father,” you beamed, and Cregan was eager to hold the babe against the king’s chest as the frail man pressed a kiss to his pink brow.

“I am glad the name pleases you, your grace,” he said with warmth. “We shall take our leave. My wife needs to rest, and our son needs to nurse at her breast as soon as possible.”

“You shall nurse him?” Alicent gasped.

“It is custom in the north. Our children grow stronger for it,” Cregan answered and you leaned against his arm for support, looking at the queen.

Side by side, dragon princess and wolf lord, the two of you stood in silence and pride for a moment under the kind gaze of the king, and the colder one of the queen.

You used your husband as a crutch as you both walked out into the corridor, but you stopped at the stairs, pain making your head spin. “Thank you, husband,” you murmured gratefully, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I meant it. Your ancestry is to be celebrated. Now allow me to carry you, wife, you have toiled enough,” your lord husband offered.

“I would not get blood all over you,” you replied, looking down at the stones where blood was pooling under your foot, having run down your leg.

“I carried my wounded brothers on the battlefield, I can carry my bleeding wife after she gave me a son,” Cregan replied, and you knew there was no use discussing the matter further.

He then gestured for your midwife to come forward, and she rushed to him. She took the babe from his arms carefully, and proceeded to walk down the steps, herself escorted by your sworn shield.

“My mother used to say the childbed was the battlefield of women,” you remembered as your husband pulled you up into his arms, the back of your knees resting in the crook of his elbow.

If you weren’t so exhausted you would have blushed at his strength and the effortless way with which he carried you. “She was a wise woman,” he commented as he brought you down, step step, with a care that made tears come to your eyes.

“I wish you had known her,” you sighed into his neck as he cradled you closer.

“Perhaps you shall speak her name in joy again…” he hinted, and you smiled.

“I am barely done with delivering a babe, that you would give me another?” you asked, and another grateful kiss was pressed to your brow.

“I am merely assuring you of my eagerness to fulfill my duties as your husband. If you ever desire a little daughter to call by your mother’s name, then I shall provide,” he vowed, and ahead of you in the bleak hallway of the Keep, your baby soon cooed in the arms of your trusted midwife.

Dividers by @arcielee

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@thenameswinter99

[amyposts34568913]

A CHILDHOOD LOVE IN WINTERFELL.

Jacaerys Velaryon x Cregan!sister

summary: You were betrothed to Jace when you were both children. Now, the dance of the dragons has begun, and Jace finds himself in the North, seeking your brother, Cregan Stark, and his army.

Because... There's never lived a Stark who forgot an oath and with House Stark the North will follow.

click here for part 2!

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

Your brother and Jace talk in the hall, and you walk past the entrance. You couldn't wait to see your man so the door creaks softly as you push it open. Inside, the hall is dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Your brother Cregan stands near the hearth with his arms crossed—stoic as ever—while Jace faces him in polished Valyrian steel armor. At your entrance, both men turn. Jace’s dark hair catches an orange of firelight—and for a heartbeat too long, he just stares at you.

Jace's breath hitches—almost imperceptibly. The boy you remembered, lanky and teasing with sea-green eyes, is gone. In his place stands a man: taller, sharper-jawed, shoulders broad from war. Cregan raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Jace takes one step forward—then another—and suddenly he’s before you. Without ceremony or formality he pulls you into a fierce embrace.

Jace holds you tightly, his armored chest cool against your cheek. He smells of salt and steel—of the sea and battle—and for a moment, nothing else exists: not the war outside, not the tension in Cregan’s gaze.

He buries his face in your hair briefly before pulling back just enough to look at you.

"Gods," he whispers "you're even more beautiful than I remembered."

Behind him, Cregan clears his throat pointedly.

"Be careful, or you might be killed right here" you chuckle.

Jace glances over his shoulder at Cregan, who is now glaring with the intensity of a wolf guarding its den. A slow, reckless grin spreads across Jace’s face—one that says he knows exactly how dangerous this moment is… and doesn’t care.

He leans in closer to you anyway, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Worth it," he murmurs—and then presses his lips firmly against yours.

A bold move. An outrageous one. The kind that could earn him a dagger between the ribs from your brother.

Cregan moves—fast as winter wind. In one stride, he’s across the hall, his hand slamming down on Jace’s shoulder to wrench him backward with brutal force.

The kiss is broken violently. Jace stumbles, nearly tripping over a rug—but catches himself just in time to see Cregan loom over him like a storm cloud made flesh.

Your brother doesn’t shout. He doesn’t draw steel but the murderous chill in his gaze speaks volumes.

"Jacaery's" Cregan says softly "you dare kiss my sister like that?"

Jace straightens, undaunted despite the sheer radiating from Cregan.

"Yes" he answers simply, no hesitation. Then, with a reckless smirk: "I’ve been wanting to do that since I got here."

A dangerous answer. A suicidal one.

Cregan's jaw tightens. His fingers twitch toward the dagger at his belt.

The air crackles with tension—one wrong word and blood will spill on these stones.

"Well is the feast today?" You ask to break the uncomfortable silence.

The sudden shift in topic cuts through the tension like a blade. Cregan’s glare wavers slightly—his murderous focus disrupted by your casual question.

Jace, seizing the lifeline you’ve thrown him, exhales quietly and nods.

Cregan finally releases Jace with a rough shove and steps back, though his expression remains stormy. He folds his arms again.

Aye," your brother grunts. "Food at dusk."

A pause.

"Jacaerys will sit at my right."

"Good, I didn't plan on sitting too long" you said casually.

Jace suppresses a small smile, and even Cregan lets out a gruff chuckle. You’re not the kind of lady to sit around waiting. No, you always have a plan—and your own mind, gods be damned.

Cregan gives you a sidelong glance; a rare glint of approval in his ice blue eyes.

"No," he agrees dryly, "you've never been one to sit and look pretty."

"I plan to drink more wine than I should and dance" You said with a grin.

Your carefree declaration earns a snort from Cregan, and even Jace can’t quite hide his amusement. You’ve always been the wild she-wolf amidst the northmen—the one to ride fastest and laugh loudest.

"Of course you do," your brother grunts, though there’s a hint of affection in his voice. "Drink, dance, and charm the pants off any poor fool who crosses your path."

"That's what I'm best at." You shrug your shoulders.

Jace's grin widens, full and bright like sunlight breaking through winter clouds. He remembers this about you - the way you owned every room with nothing but your presence.

"You always were," he says warmly. "Remember at King's Landing? When we danced that summer night before I left for Dragonstone?"

Cregan raises an eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with the story. Jace turns slightly toward him.

"She had half the court dancing by morning - lords, ladies... even my father couldn't stay seated."

"It was a great night" You say. "And morning..."

Jace chuckles, a rich sound that fills the hall. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he recalls it vividly.

"That morning after..." he starts, then stops with a smirk. "You stole my cloak and rode off through the city like a thief. The guards chased you halfway to Flea Bottom.

Cregan listens in silent fascination - this side of you was new to him. He'd known his sister as fierce and untamed... but not recklessly joyful.

"And when they caught up?" Jace leans against a wooden beam, arms crossed as he recalls the memory with visible delight. "You leapt off your horse right in front of the Red Keep gates. The entire Gold Cloaks were shouting after you like madmen."

"It was a long time ago.." you said memorizing your childhood with him.

Jace's expression softens, a bittersweet nostalgia creeping into his gaze. Six years since that night - six long years of war and distance.

"Too long," he murmurs. "I thought about you every damn day."

Cregan shifts uncomfortably at the raw honesty in Jace's voice. It wasn't like him to be so open with feelings - not when he'd been trained as a soldier, a prince.

You clear your throat looking at Cregan, because of course Jace can't keep his mouth shut even around him.

Cregan catches your subtle cue and takes the hint. He unfolds his arms and grunts gruffly.

I should... oversee the preparations for tonight," he mutters, casting one last warning glance at Jace before striding out of the hall.

Once he's gone, the silence settles heavily between you and Jace. You're alone now—truly alone for the first time in six years.

You walk up to him "I missed you" you say truly.

Jace's breath catches. For a man who commands armies, he suddenly looks uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"I missed you too," he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. "Every godsforsaken day."

Without hesitation this time and without fear of your brother interrupting, Jace cups your face in his hands and kisses you properly - not the quick peck from earlier, but a deep kiss full of six years' worth of longing.

"Just...don't do that in front of my brother" You said pulling away from him just a bit.

Jace pulls back just enough to smirk, his lips still close to yours.

"I can't promise that," he admits shamelessly. "Your brother hates me. Might as well give him something real to glare about."

Then, quieter: "Besides... I've waited too damn long for this."

He kisses you again - slower this time, savoring it like fine wine after years of drought.

"I know you are the prince and you think you can do whatever you want, but control yourself..." You said with a grin laughing

Jace's smirk only grows wider at your playful scolding. He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Control myself? Me?" he teases. You know I've never been good at that"

He presses another light kiss to the corner of your mouth, then one on your cheek - testing boundaries like a man who's spent years without you and has no intention of wasting time now.

"And if I don't control myself... what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know, maybe one day you will see..."

Jace raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your cryptic threat. A challenge? From you? That was new.

"Oh?" he says, his tone laced with amusement and curiosity. "Is that a promise or a warning?"

He leans back slightly to study your face - searching for clues in the curve of your smile, the glint in your eyes. The mighty Prince of Dragonstone... genuinely unsure what you might do next.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders "I think you will be satisfied no matter what"

Jace rests his hands on your hips, pulling you closer until there's barely any space left between you. He cocks his head, a lazy grin playing across his lips.

"Hmm," he murmurs, feigning skepticism. "You think so? I can imagine a few things I'd be very satisfied with."

His voice dips lower on the last part, gaze darkened with a desire that's anything but subtle. He tightens his grip on your hips, just enough to make his meaning crystal clear.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" you said teasingly.

Jace exhales sharply through his nose, a mix of amusement and barely restrained hunger in the sound.

"First," he says slowly, "I’d kiss you like this."

He does exactly that - claiming your mouth with slow, deliberate heat. It’s not frantic or desperate; it’s thorough, as if memorizing every detail of you after years apart.

"And then..." he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips,

Jace breaks the kiss just enough to trail his lips along your jawline, speaking between feather-light brushes of his mouth against your skin.

"Then I’d take you somewhere private," he says, voice rougher now. "Somewhere with a bed. Or a table. Hell, even the floor if we have to."

He nips playfully at your earlobe before continuing:

And then? I’d remind you exactly how much I’ve missed you."

Shiver runs down your spine at his words. "You know, my chambers are pretty comfortable, maybe you should visit...after the feast?"

Jace's smirk turns downright wicked at that. The feast may be a few hours away, but his mind is already racing with visions of what could happen afterward.

"Are they?" he drawls, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your hips. "I suppose I need to check that myself."

He pulls you flush against him again, the heat in his eyes unmistakable now.

"After the feast then," he murmurs, his voice husky and full of promise. "No more waiting."

You kiss him again, just a peck on lips. "I like your new hair... the curls are really... Northern."

Jace chuckles against your lips, the sound warm and pleased as you compliment his hair. He’d grown it longer for this campaign - a tactical choice to blend in with Northerners, but he hadn’t expected you to like it so much.

"You do?" He asks between kisses. "I thought maybe you'd miss my old shorter style."

He reaches up self-consciously, running fingers through those very curls.

"No, they suit you better" You started to play with his curls "And those freckles..."

Jace's breath hitches as your fingers explore the new freckles dotting his nose and cheeks - faint but unmistakable, earned from months of riding under the Northern sun.

"Fuck," he mutters, "I forgot about those. Do they look stupid?"

He asks with sudden self-consciousness, something rare for a prince so used to admiration. The wind and cold had marked him differently up here - not like a pampered Dragonstone lord anymore.

"Are you kidding me? You look handsome, I wish I could have those"

Jace's face lights up with boyish delight at your compliment. The freckles - which he’d initially thought were a flaw - suddenly feel like something to be proud of.

"Really?" he says, his voice softer now, almost disbelieving. "I mean... I spent the whole summer riding and they just appeared one day."

He leans into your touch as you continue playing with his curls, clearly enjoying the attention. For a man who'd faced down armies without flinching, this level of affection from you unraveled him completely.

"Probably from the sun..." You murmur "How is Vermax by the way? Isn't he too cold here?"

Jace's expression brightens even more at the mention of his dragon. Vermax - a bronze-and-green beauty with wings like silk - had been his companion for many years now.

"Vermax's doing well," he chuckles, a note of fond pride in his voice. "It took him some adjustment, but he's been hunting now, in Godswood"

Jace pauses to roll his eyes. "Gods know he won't eat the salted beef the Northmen keep feeding us."

"Oh, I'm sorry my prince. Maybe I will ask the chef to cook something different for you, since you don't like our food." You tease him, hands on his chest

Jace's nose wrinkles in mock offense, though his eyes spark with amusement.

"Please don't," he says dramatically, "I’d rather eat roasted rat than offend the Northmen’s pride. They work hard on that salted beef."

He covers your hands where they rest on his chest, squeezing them gently.

"And how is Lucerys? I haven't seen him in a long time" you ask softly.

Jace's expression softens at the mention of his younger brother. He pulls you closer, almost instinctively.

"Luke... he's doing well." he says quietly. "Gods, you should see him now. He's growing so fast."

Jace hesitates for a moment, then: "He misses you." he adds, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "We both do."

"I know.. I've missed you too, so much"

Jace exhales shakily, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

"I thought about writing to you. A hundred times. I even started letters." He admits quietly. "But then the war got worse and... I didn't know what to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or pathetic."

His arms tighten around you slightly, like he's afraid if he lets go, this moment might dissolve - that maybe it was all just some cruel dream after months of separation.

"I hope it's not gonna turn out worse.."

Jace takes a deep breath, his expression growing more serious at your words. The war - the real reality of it - is impossible to ignore, even in this stolen moment of comfort. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

"It won't," he says firmly, his voice a low, reassuring murmur against your ear."I won't let it. I promise."

There's a fierce determination in his eyes - the same one he has when facing down an enemy on the battlefield. He means every word.

"I worry about you.. and your family, but I know you will get through it"

Jace cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the worry creasing your brow.

"You don't have to," he says softly. "I've got Vermax. And I'm not stupid - I fight smart."

A small, lopsided smile forms on his lips as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"And when this is all over? We're going back home together. Just like we were supposed to."

"I know, maybe after all of this, we will finally get married " - You said with a hope in your voice.

Jace's smile broadens at that, the thought of it almost a tangible thing between you

"Yes," he says, his voice full of quiet certainty. "When this is over, we'll be married. And we'll have peace. And land. And... a family, if the gods are kind."

His gaze softens as his fingers brush lightly along the curve of your cheek - gentle, tender in a way that contrasts with the rest of his battle-worn exterior.

"We will, I know it" You say with excitement in your voice, knowing everything it's going to be fine.

Jace exhales, slow and steady, like the weight of all his hopes is finally being voiced aloud.

"Can you picture it? A wedding at Dragonstone. The cliffs would be decorated with banners - silver and sea-green. My mother would cry." He chuckles fondly at the image.

"I know, it's going to be perfect. It's all I dreamed of." You admit.

Jace's eyes shimmer with something dangerously close to tears, but he blinks them away quickly - a prince doesn't cry.

"You've dreamed of that? Of marrying me?" he asks, voice thick."All this time? Even when I was gone?"

He presses his forehead to yours briefly before continuing:

"I used to lie awake in my tent and imagine it too. The hall decorated. The feast. You in white."

"Of course I did" You say "You were the only thing on my mind" You kissed him again, deeply, just to pull back and walk away towards the door.

Jace lets out a small, frustrated sound at the loss of your lips, clearly not done with the moment just yet. His eyes follow you as you start to walk away, almost a physical pull between you.

"Where are you going?" he calls after you, an edge of impatience in his voice. "You can't just kiss me and then walk away. That's cruel."

"Of course I can, and I have to get ready" You said with a smirk.

Jace crosses his arms, leaning against a wooden beam as he watches you leave. His smirk is still firmly in place, but there's an unmistakable pout forming.

"You're really going to make me wait? After that kiss?" he complains dramatically. "You used to be nicer when we were children."

A pause. Then:

"Hurry up and get ready then. I'll see you at the feast."

"See you at the feast... and after that" You wink before closing the door.

Jace waits until the door clicks shut behind you. The hall is silent again, save for the crackling of torches.

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his newly grown curls as he stares at nothing in particular - replaying every word of your conversation in his mind.

The feast tonight was suddenly going to be unbearable. Every second would stretch endlessly until it was over and he could finally see you again.

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

The Great Hall of Winterfell is alive with the sounds of a feast - clinking goblets, laughter, the occasional roar from drunk Northern lords. Long tables groan under platters of roasted meats and breads.

Jace sits at Cregan's right as promised. He wears his finest Valyrian armor - polished to perfection despite its battered war scars.

His eyes keep darting toward the entrance where you're expected to arrive any moment now.

Then he sees you- every eye in the hall turns when you appear - but none more than Jace's. He sits up a little straighter in his chair, his gaze tracking every movement as you glide into the room. He's not the only one watching you - the entire court seems to have grown still at your arrival

Jace stands abruptly, ignoring the smirk Cregan throws him. He strides across the room until he's standing a short distance away, looking you up and down shamelessly: "Gods, you look..." he trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Yeah, yeah I know, you look handsome as well" You said teasingly.

He scoffs, clearly trying to downplay the compliment, though a hint of a flush appears across his cheeks.

"I always look handsome," he says arrogantly, raising an eyebrow. "That's no surprise. But you..."

He takes in the way the dress hugs your figure, the way the fabric's color makes your eyes shine brighter than ever. "You look like the most beautiful thing in this godsforsaken castle."

"Thank you"... blush covering your cheeks. "Where's the wine? I'm thirsty"

Jace bursts out laughing - loud, unrestrained. The sound cuts through the hall's noise, drawing amused glances from nearby lords.

"That's my girl," he says proudly. "Right to business."

Without hesitation, he signals a servant with a sharp wave of his hand. A maid scurries over instantly with two goblets of deep red wine - strong Dothraki vintage that Rhaenyra had shipped north for diplomacy.

"Is my brother kind to you?" You ask.

Jace takes a sip of wine before answering, his gaze flicking to Cregan, who's in a heated discussion with a group of northern lords. He looks every inch the Warden of the North, cold and regal in his furs and wolfhead brooch.

"Kind isn't the word I'd use," Jace finally replies, a wry smile twisting his lips. "He's a hard man, and he doesn't trust anyone. Especially not a prince from the south."

"I know, the Northerners don't trust the South. But he will be loyal to you. A stark never forgets his oath. And maybe if you wouldn't be so touchy with his sister in public, he could like you even more" You said pinching his shoulder.

Jace takes another slow sip of wine, considering your words. His fingers tap lightly against the goblet as he thinks.

"You're right," he admits after a moment. "I probably shouldn't have kissed you in front of him like that. It was reckless."

He sighs, running a hand through his curls "But I've been apart from you for so long - seeing you again after all this time? My self-control isn't exactly at its best."

"I know, I think I won't control myself around you, today." You said low so no one could hear you.

Jace's eyes darken with something far more intense than just affection at your whispered words. His breath hitches slightly, and he leans in closer to you - close enough that his lips nearly brush your ear as he responds.

"Then don't," he murmurs, voice low and rough with promise."I won't either."

A pause. Then:

"Tonight after the feast... I'm not holding back anymore."

"Me too, I hope you remember where my chamber is."

A wolfish smile slowly spreads across Jace's face, his eyes glinting with mischief as he straightens up again.

"Oh, I remember vividly," he says, his voice barely above a growl now - the one you knew all too well. "You think I haven't spent hours laying awake imagining what I'll do when I finally have you in there again? You have no idea." He leans in just enough to almost touch your earlobe with his lips.

"Tonight."

You peck his lips quickly and Jace's lips tingle from the fleeting kiss, and he instinctively chases after them when you pull away - but stops himself just in time. The hall is too crowded, his brother-in-law too watchful.

He exhales sharply through his nose before taking another long drink of wine to cool off.

"Tease," he mutters under his breath with a smirk. "You're going to be the death of me."

"I know" You wink at him, and go towards the crowd to dance sipping your wine.

Jace watches you move into the crush of people, his gaze following you unabashedly. His eyes trail over the curves of your form, lingering on your hips and thighs as you dance. He bites his lip unconsciously, his thoughts drifting to later that night.

Her brother Cregan appears beside him suddenly, a goblet of his own in hand.

"You're not being very subtle," he observes dryly.

Jace keeps his gaze locked on you as the musicians strike up a lively northern tune. The crowd parts slightly, and you're swept into a dance with one of the younger lords - some jovial Stark cousin who clearly knows how to move.

Cregan takes another sip from his goblet before speaking again.

"You've been staring at my sister all night." It's not an accusation. Just an observation.

Jace finally tears his eyes away from you when Cregan speaks, turning to face him fully. He keeps his expression neutral - diplomatic.

"She's my betrothed," he says simply, as if that explains everything. "I'm allowed to look at her."

A beat passes before he adds:

"And I plan on marrying her after this war. You know that."

"Of course you are," Cregan says, his tone flat but not hostile. He studies Jace for a long moment - assessing him like a general evaluating an ally.

Then, surprisingly: "You seem to truly care for her." It's not quite approval yet... but it's something close.

Jace nods solemnly, his usual arrogance momentarily tempered by the seriousness of Cregan's words.

"I do," he says firmly. No jesting, no smirk - just raw honesty. "More than anything."

He doesn't elaborate further. He doesn't need to. The intensity in his eyes is enough - a prince who's fought through fire and blood for this woman now standing before them both.

Cregan's expression softens just a fraction, and he gives a small nod - a sign of begrudging respect.

"I can see that," he grunts.

He glances back over to you and the young Stark lord dancing. You're laughing at something he's said, a bright smile lighting up your face.

Cregan studies you both for a long moment before speaking again.

"You should know that..." he starts, his voice low and cautious.

Jace's gaze snaps to Cregan, his expression suddenly serious. He can read the hesitation in the Warden's voice - this is important.

He nods once, a silent cue for Cregan to go on.

Cregan exhales slowly, steeling himself. He keeps his eyes on you as he continues in an even lower voice.

"The Northmen are fiercely protective of their own. They won't readily accept a Prince from the South as their future King. And they won't just stand back and watch you marry my sister either."

Jace absorbs this information, his jaw tightening slightly. He hadn't considered the political weight of it - not just marrying you, but doing so as a foreign prince in a land that distrusted southerners.

"Then what do I need to do?" he asks bluntly. No pride here - just strategy. "How do I win them over? What will make them accept me?"

He's fully focused on Cregan now, ready to listen like a soldier taking orders from his commander.

Cregan leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur.

"First - you don't act like the Prince of Dragonstone here. You act like one of us."

He gestures vaguely toward the hall where Northerners drink and dance.

"No showing off. No ordering people around. They respect strength, but not arrogance." A pause as he studies Jace's face for reaction.

Jace bristles slightly at that, but he knows there's truth to Cregan's words. There's a lot of the spoiled prince in him - a habit from a life of privilege. He clenches his jaw, swallowing his pride. "I will do my best... for her."

"That's the right answer" Cregan raises his goblet slightly, a silent toast forming between the two men. It's not friendship yet - far from it - but it's something new: mutual understanding.

Jace lifts his own drink in return, clinking their cups together lightly before taking a long swallow of wine. The tension that had been coiled in his shoulders eases just slightly.

The feast continues around them, loud and vibrant as ever.

Jace's face lights up when he catches your smile across the hall. His whole demeanor shifts - shoulders relaxing, eyes softening in a way that's only ever reserved for you.

He raises his goblet slightly in return, mirroring your silent gesture with his own small toast before taking another sip of wine.

The Northern lord you're dancing with says something to make you laugh again. Jace watches the sound ripple through the crowd - warm and bright as candlelight on snow.

He can't help but be envious. He'd give anything to be the one making you laugh right now - to be the one holding your hand, spinning you around to the music, feeling your body close to his. But he can't. Not yet. Not with Cregan watching like a hawk. Even now, he feels eyes on him from across the hall. So he contents himself with just watching you - a silent guardian from afar. He knows he will have you all for himself in the night.

[catastrophicalcat]

I loooove the concept of Dinah getting Wildcat's old gym, and having practice fights in it with the Batfam and Green Arrow fam.

Detective Comics #1107

[gwaynes-hightower]

HARRY COLLETT as JACAERYS VELARYON and TOM TAYLOR as CREGAN STARK HOUSE OF THE DRAGON // 2.01 A Son for a Son

[vampirlor]

“go to hell” is basic. “i hope the only ongoing books your favorite character is in are written by tom king and tom taylor” is smart. it’s possible. it happened to donna troy.

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Chance - a cregan stark x reader

summary: with the threat of war looming over the kingdom, your hand is forced in asking cregan a huge request. to do so, cregan must take a calculated risk of deciding what matters more: your life or a chance Winterfell may never get again.

cw: smut, fingering, oral!f receiving, p in v, teasing, some praising, YEARNINGGG, lots of angst to sex and sex to angst and angst to fluff idk wtf happened, lots of arguing, a little bit of ooc behavior but nothing too bad, not very lore accurate dance of dragons but not entirely inaccurate either just basically an au at this point,

word count: really fucking long guys like at least 8k idk what happened i lost the plot bc now there has to be a part 4

part 1: his second wife

part 2: his second child (not necessary to read prior parts but worth it)

taglist: @targaryenprincess1 @nics-fxy

two years after your first born daughter

“I don’t think they like it when I sit in.”

It had been the third meeting this week between the houses in the North; a clear sign tensions were rising throughout the kingdom. You told Cregan you had wanted to sit in, and he was all for it. It was your mother’s claim he was defending, after all.

But, the Northern lords had made it clear you were not welcome. Whether that was because you were a Southerner, or a lady, you had no idea. But, you could tell they weren’t happy. In fact, the reason for their disliking was probably due to both of those things.

“Who cares?” Cregan replies, clearly starving as he slams down his third plate of meat. “You’re the Lady of Winterfell, not to mention Princess of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I know, but-“

“Who is it? Do you want me to send them to the Wall?” He asks, trying to make you feel better. You smile softly.

“No, Cregan, I just… I don’t know.” You answer, not fully knowing how to put your feelings into words.

He puts down his fork, noticing how much the situation bothers you, despite your attempts to hide it.

“Alright, look,” he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “on the next council meeting I’ll make it clear any affairs in Winterfell are the affairs of the Princess. If any man even looks at you wrong, I’ll send him to take the black.” He says, resting his hand on yours.

“Thank you, my love.” You say. He looks at you, reassuringly. Despite the situation being resolved, he could tell you were still saddened. He looks at you, softly playing with your food. “I’m tired of rabbit.”

He pauses to think for a moment. “Would you like me to take you hunting tomorrow?”

You perk up, instantly. “Really? You don’t mean it.”

“Of course I do. We’ll go bright and early, so try to sleep through the night instead of waking up to have me-“

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” You cut his risqué sentence off, jumping on his lap to give him a kiss. Your hands rest on his cheeks, kissing him all over his face.

He doesn’t resist, enjoying your sweet kisses. “You can still wake me up, by the way.”

“Oh, would you like that?” You tease, hand sliding down his chest.

“I would love it.” He sighs, leaning his head back.

The winds of winter rush outside, whining against the windows of the dining hall.

“Are the children asleep?” You whisper into his lips.

“Not likely.” He sighs, running his hands along your waist.

“I’d better go take care of that then.” You stand off his lap, walking away from the table.

“Nooooo.” Cregan whines, reaching his arm out for you, although you are far out of his reach. “Come back, my love.”

You tease him, unlacing the back of your dress as you walk.

“Oh, Gods, you’ve got it coming for you, girl.” He moans.

“Have I?” You turn to face him, sinking to your knees. “I’m so frightened.”

The wooden chair scrapes as Cregan stands abruptly to rush you, but you stand back on your feet quickly, giggling as you walk out the door.

“Gods, give me strength.” He mumbles to himself, sitting back down.

You enter the children’s room, shaking your head at the mess that Rickon and Lyanna have torn up.

“You’re both supposed to be abed.”

“There’s a bear, mama.” Rickon says.

“A bear? Impossible, my love. This winter is far too cold for a bear.”

“Closet.” Lyanna says.

“Now, there is no such thing to be afraid of, my children. You have wolf and dragon blood in you.” You say, checking the closet to bring them comfort. “See? Only your clothes.”

“It’s hiding in the clothes.” Rickon says. You sigh, leaning further into the closet to sift through the clothes, knowing you’ll find nothing.

“Still nothing.” You turn, just as Cregan comes up to scare you with a bark.

“Fuck!” You yell, nearly falling back into the closet, until your lord husband catches you with a firm grasp on the wrist, pulling you into his chest. He and the children laugh, before Rickon gasps and covers his mouth while pointing at you.

“You’re not supposed to say that.” He says.

“Don’t worry, Rickon. Your mother will be dealt with accordingly.” Cregan winks at you. “As for you lot, you’ll be dealing with much worse than a bear if you don’t get to bed.”

“What’s worse than a bear?” Rickon asks. Cregan is silent for a minute.

“A wolf!” He yells, scaring them under the covers as they scream. Cregan smiles at you.

“Good one.” You say, sarcastically.

“What did I do?” He asks, sneaking a pat on your bottom as you walk towards the children.

“I’ll protect you, Lya.” Rickon says, holding her.

“Aw, such a sweet boy.” You say, smoothing his curls out of his face. “We have to always protect and love each other.”

“Why?” Lyanna asks, innocently. Cregan kneels beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“That’s just what family does. Especially Starks.” Cregan says, “Although, your mother’s side is a little too good at it.”

“Oh, hush.” You say, smacking his arm while the children giggle at the joke that clearly went over their heads. You stand, “Goodnight, my loves.”

You and Cregan exit, closing the door softly behind you.

“Really?” You ask him, hiding a smile.

“Oh, come on. I’m just teasing.” He says, kissing your cheek.

“You annoy me so.” You say, walking past him. “I can still get this annulled and be with my brother, if I please.”

“That’s repulsive.” He says, but you simply smirk.

You enter your chambers, falling back onto your bed. “Now, what did you say earlier, Stark? That I had something coming to me? That’d I be dealt with accordingly?”

“Aye, and the Gods are just in giving me the power to do so.” He shuts the door behind him, not taking his eyes off you. He removes his warmer layers, agonizingly slow. “This just won’t do, love, you are far too dressed.”

He flips you on your stomach, tearing the remaining laces of your corset in two. You gasp, but he pushes you into the mattress with his hips, making you moan in the soft furs.

“Teasing me in the dining hall,” Cregan pushes your dress off your shoulders, “cursing in front of our children,” he runs his hands down your smooth waist. “You’ve been awful troublesome today, wife.”

“Have I? For that, I do apologize.” You say, your voice thick with lust. He pulls your dress off your hips, kissing your bare shoulders as he places his hands on your waist, grinding his clothed length against your bottom.

“I liked that dress.” You complain, staring at the torn garment.

“I’ll buy you another.” He says, more kisses to your bare skin. “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“I have you wrapped around my finger. Don’t I, Stark?”

“Gods, yes.” He moans, resting his forehead onto your back. He sinks to his knees, pulling you toward him so your lower half hangs off the bed, then presses gentle kisses to your bottom, running his fingers on your smooth thighs.

“You make me so weak.” He admits, kissing softly on your cunt.

“That’s no good.” You say, breathlessly.

“No, it isn’t.” He says, licking a stripe up your cunt. You hold back a moan, instead flipping over so you can see him.

You sit up, resting your left leg on his shoulder so he has easier access. He looks up at you, longingly, as his cheek rests into the palm of your right hand. You caress his soft face with your thumb, admiring the Stark below you.

“After all that you ate earlier, you’re still hungry?” You ask. He nods, kissing your palm. “Are you gonna keep me in anticipation?”

He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your legs and pulling you onto his tongue. You throw your head back, soft whimpers and moans escaping your lips.

“Fuck, Cregan.” You whine, hands gripping his hair. He holds you still, despite the desperate movement of your hips into his face. “You act as though you’re starved.”

“I fucking am.” He breathes, eating you relentlessly. His fingers tease your entrance, leaving you gripping the sheets of your bed in a desperate urge for him. “I love the taste of you.”

Your hand finds his hair, pulling on it as an attempt to get him even closer to you.

“Gods.” You whine. “I’m so close.”

“Stop moving.” He mumbles in you, trying to hold you still.

You moan, fighting to catch your breath, still wiggling in his arms. He wraps his forearm around your lower back, his other arm moves to hold your leg beside his head. He finally gets a grip on you, holding you still enough so he can savor your taste.

“How bad do you want it?” He teases you.

“So bad.” Your moans are short and quick, your body focusing in on the feeling of sweet release.

“I’ve got you, my princess, come on.” He urges. You pull his hair, still fighting his grip as you fuck yourself against his face to finish on his tongue. Your other hand grabs your temple, fighting to choke back your moans from being too loud.

He cleans up every drop, not shy to hide his moans and groans of ecstasy at your taste.

He kisses up your body, moving painfully slow to get to your face. You grab him by his collar, pulling him the rest of the way up to meet your lips.

“You’re teasing.” You moan in his lips.

“Am I? For that, I do apologize.” He mimics you.

“Undress,” You whisper in his lips, “and then come fuck your wife, Lord Stark.”

He wasted no time the second you said those words, immediately ripping off his lower layers as you moved up to the top of the bed.

You turned, ass facing him, crawling seductively towards the pillows.

“Gods, stop.” He moans, hands shaking with adrenaline as he fumbled with the buttons his shirt.

“Or what? Tell me what you’ll do to me.” You say, leaning back on the bed and watching him still struggle.

“Please,” He begs, “You’re killing me, my princess.”

“Will you haunt my cunt?”

Your words send him over the edge.

He grabs you by the ankle, still not done undressing, and pulls you right back to where you just were on the edge. You shriek, giggling, but he finds nothing funny, and you quickly find out the joke was on you.

He rips his shirt off, buttons scattering on the floor.

“That’s the second item of clothing you’ve-“ He leans over you; one hand covers your mouth, and the other positions himself at your entrance before sliding in like water. You gasp into his hand, immediately gripping his strong arms for support.

He thrusts into you, slowly at first to build you up before picking up the pace. You throw your head back, mouth still covered as you moan into his hand.

“All day.” He moans. “All fucking day.”

“All fucking day I’ve had to hear that sweet voice and not get to…” He looks down at himself fucking you, groaning at his lustful thoughts; they were so shameful to want to do to a princess. “Gods, I can’t even say it. All day I’ve had to watch you walk in that fucking dress- Gods, I love that dress- and then- fuck- and then I have to hear you, and watch you tease me while I can’t get this fucking shirt off. Gods, you’ve got me so worked up.” He moans, fucking you relentlessly.

“My princess… If I hear that sweet voice one more time, I think I might start crying.” You look him in the eyes, smirking underneath his hand. You had him right where you wanted him, it was too perfect. He knew it, too.

He pulls out, flipping you on your stomach before pushing back in. His hands grip your waist with a bruising touch, too lost in your cunt to realize how rough he was being. But, you ate it up, loving the side of him that knew how to get the job done. He was a giver, after all.

His forehead rests against the back of your head, trying, fighting, breaking, to hold back tears from how good you felt. He fucked you into the mattress, letting the spring push you back into him, inching as deep as he could without hurting you.

“Please, my- fuck- beautiful wife…” He groans, so close to releasing. “Get on your knees.”

Your fingers gripped the mattress, an ounce of frustration hitting you.

Ever since… ever fucking since you had Lya he just refused.

Every time you were in the bedroom, he would cum. Every time without fail, just never where you wanted.

On your chest, his chest, on your stomach, on your ass, on your back, your throat, your tongue, your hands, your god damned thighs, fuck even on your cunt itself, but never inside you.

And you knew why. You knew even just the thought of what happened last time scared him to death. So, you didn’t push it. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and for a time you were perfectly content not having another.

But, it’d been so long. He’d only ever finished inside you once. Once, and it gave you Lya. You yearned for the feeling of his warmth inside you, yearned so bad you might have even killed for it.

As he went to pull out, you grabbed him by his wrist, pulling him down so his chest was on your back.

“Don’t.” You begged. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His thrusts continued.

“Please, Cregan.” You begged, “Give me another child.”

You felt the hesitation, felt even the twitch in his cock at the sentence. Because fuck, did he want to fill you up so bad. He wanted you walking the halls with it leaking out of you, wanted your stomach round and your breasts heavy. The thought alone gave him chills.

“What?” He breathed out, knowing full well he heard you.

“Cum in me.” You moaned, fucking yourself onto him when he stopped moving. “Give me a boy.”

“You’ve gone mad.” He tried playing it off as a jest, but you were so serious.

“I’m not joking.” You say, still fucking yourself on him. His hands grip your waist, finally halting your movements. He pulls out completely, stepping away from you and wiping himself off with his torn shirt.

“Cregan.” You say, sitting up; frustration in your voice, or maybe desperation.

“I’m finished.” He answers.

“What about me?” You ask.

“I have two perfectly good fingers on my right hand. Maybe even three, if you so wish it.”

You fume with anger. He hears Silverwing roar outside; you and that damned dragon were too in sync.

You’re so angry you could cry, and he senses it. “My wife…”

“You are a fucking bastard.” You curse. You can see the shock on his face for a moment, but it quickly fades. He says nothing, sighing as he walks into the closet for night clothes.

He dresses quickly, wanting to be able to come calm you down, and comes out with a sleep gown for you.

“Gods, you’re being serious?!” You yell, noticing he was dressed for bed. He still says nothing, handing you your clothes and sitting beside you on the bed.

It was moments like these his stoic features frustrated you so. He’d let that guard down most of the time around you, but he was able to hide his emotions behind that stone face when needed.

“Listen-“ He begins, but you ignore him, indeed not listening.

“It’s been two fucking years, Cregan. No, three! Three years since you’ve cum in me and I’ve said nothing. I’ve given you your peace, I’ve let you give it to me every other possible way for your sake. But, I can’t-I can’t do this any longer.”

You can’t hide the desperation anymore. You crawl on his lap, still naked, holding his cheeks in your hands as he looks down to avoid your gaze.

“Please, please, I need this.” You beg, kissing his cheeks and his lips softly. You grind on him, wetness leaking from you onto his clothes. His hands rest on the small of your back, savoring the feeling of your restless movement on his length.

He grows hard, you feel it underneath you.

“Yes.” You whisper, your hand reaches down, slipping underneath the waistband to rub him. You pull his length out just as he pushes his bottoms down, urging himself against your slit, his nails digging into your back at the sensation.

You sit down, both of you gasping into each other’s lips.

“Yes.” You moan, “Yes, my lord.”

Gods did you know all the ways to make him fall apart into your hands like glass.

He whimpers into your lips, loving the way you bounce your hips on him.

“So good to me.” You pur. His head falls on your shoulder, unable to contain his moans. “Look at me.”

He listens, staring at you with those glossy, gray eyes.

“You’re so good.” You moan. “Such a good boy.”

“Fuck.” He chokes out, nearly breaking. “Keep saying it.”

“You like when I tell you that?” You whisper, filling his head more with your praises, and he nods, whimpering against your shoulder.

He holds you close to his chest, your breast rubbing against him with each bounce of your ass on his cock.

“Fuck, oh gods… I… Fuck, I can’t.” He folds, feeling himself on the edge of cumming. He lifts you off him, steadying you on your feet before pulling his bottoms back up.

You stand before him, naked, but he looks down again, right hand smoothing over his forehead in anguish.

You were ready to cry again, and he didn’t have to look up to notice.

“I love you.” He says, looking at you now. “I love you so much, it hurts. It aches my damn heart when I think about how much I love you.”

You say nothing, letting him continue.

“But…” His voice breaks. “What I had to watch you go through with Lyanna.” He pauses, trying to keep his composure without breaking down into tears. “All of those bloody late nights… holding you as you cried in pain, sick and chilled constantly… laying next to you all night as you tossed and turned, crying cause you were just so bloody tired… holding you as I watched the fucking life drain from your eyes…”

He exhales, wiping his eyes and speaking in a firm voice, a voice that couldn’t be persuaded with no amount of pleading or begging or cursing or lusting. “I can’t in good conscience put you through that again.”

“Ever?” Your voice barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, eyes closed and holding a fist to his mouth. “Ever.”

You wanted to fall to your knees. Now, you needed to dress. You pulled the slip on over you, sitting next to him on the bed.

“I want to give you what you want so bad, my wife. You are so beautiful. I want nothing more than to fill you every damned day.” He pauses, trying to drive the lust driven thoughts away. “There is no worse feeling in this world than telling you no, except losing you and never getting the chance to tell you it again.”

“Cregan, I want this.” You say. “I know what I went through, and I’d do it all again, a thousand times over.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do it.”

The anger comes back.

“What do you think will happen when this war ends?” You ask. “Be honest with yourself. Be honest with me.”

He looks at you, saying nothing.

“Cregan, when this war ends, and it will end one way or another, who do you see sitting the Iron Throne?”

“Your mother.” He says. “If not her, your brother.”

“Jacaerys fights on the battle field as we speak, Daemon has died killing Aemond, my mother-“

“How could you even think like that?” Cregan stands, looking at you.

“Me?!” You ask. He shakes his head. “Cregan, this war is coming to a close. Winter is here, and if my mother and my brother-“ You’re yelling at this point, but Cregan interrupts.

“I won’t hear more of this, Y/N!” He yells back. “If you get pregnant again in this life, it will not be by me!”

“Oh, yet how could I think like that?” You cry out. “We need heirs!”

“For what?! Do you truly expect to sit the Iron Throne?!”

“Jacaerys will die! I’ve seen it!” You cry out, tears falling.

“What do you mean you’ve seen it?” He asks, lowly.

“Daenys, my ancestor, saw the Doom of Valyria.” You say. “Targaryens are dreamers.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Cregan shakes his head again, scoffing.

“My brother will die, Cregan. Whether you believe me or not, it will happen and I will be the heir to my mother’s claim.”

“And… you’ve just never thought to tell me this before?”

“Tell you what exactly, Cregan? I’ve had visions and dreams of the future? How exactly does one tell their husband that information without looking mad? When does one tell you that information, hm? When the first part of our marriage was spent in silence and the second part was spent pregnant and dying?”

“I get it. The timing was never right.”

“Is it ever?”

You’re both silent for a moment.

“You support her claim. Would you support mine?” You speak up.

“Of course I would.”

“Despite what they call my brothers?”

“You are no bastard, and neither are they. But, when it comes to you, there can be no claims against your birth right when you look exactly like your mother.”

“Do you know what they call her? The Whore of Dragonstone. Will you stand by me when they call me the Whore of Winterfell?”

“Don’t you dare ask me that.” He points at you. “I’ll stand by you until the day I die, and I’ll kill any man who’d dare to disrespect your name.”

“And you’d rule with me? In King’s Landing?”

“I made an oath to your mother, just as I made one to you. I’d follow you to the seven hells and back.”

“So, we need heirs-“

“We. Have. Lyanna! I will not say it again! Do you realize what you’re asking of me?! You’re asking me to mark you for death! I will not kill you too!” He holds you by your arms, desperate to get it through your head.

“You didn’t kill her and you didn’t kill me!” You yell. “You cannot blame yourself for what is natural any longer!”

“So, then, tell me what else did you see. Did you see these halls running with children?” He asks.

“I suppose, in a sense. I-I don’t know, maybe they were ours. I can’t tell, fully.” You answer, truthfully, your voices coming back down.

“Tell me it honestly, right now, my princess.” He says, “Did you see yourself sitting that throne?”

“Yes.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

His hand covers his mouth, still in disbelief.

“You must train Rickon-“

“I cannot hear this any longer, truly. I’m going to bed.” He says, walking around you. He grabs a bucket of water, throwing it in the hearth to put out the fire that was meant to keep you warm.

“Oh my Gods, you’re being so dramatic!” You yell, as the room goes dark, except for a few small candles. 

“I do not wish to fight with you. I love you, I’m sorry I yelled, and I’m- I’m really confused how to feel right now. I want- no, need to sleep.” He says, and the guilt hits you. You had said so much information in less than 10 minutes, no wonder he was uneasy.

“Please come lay with me.” He says, getting into bed. You sit on the bed next to him, but don’t lay down. The questions eat him alive.

“When did you have these dreams?”

“Years ago.” You answer. “Sometimes, I still see them. But, they didn’t make sense then. They only do now. I’ve had to grieve my mother and my brother while they are still living, Cregan. How does one live with that?”

“I do not know.”

Silence for a moment.

“Cregan…”

“Don’t.”

“If you train Rickon-“

“I’m warning you.” An empty threat.

“If you train him, and give us more children, I will restore the North as an independent kingdom.”

Cregan sits up, looking at you in disbelief. You couldn’t have just said that. He’s sure he misheard you.

“What?”

Your hand finds his.

“If you prepare Rickon to take your place,” You say, slower. “I will restore the North as an independent kingdom.”

“You’re lying.” He says, still shocked.

“I would not lie to you.” You say. Cregan falls back in the pillow, palms covering his eyes. He takes them away after a few moments to look at you.

“You’re being serious, my wife?”

You nod. “You told Jacaerys your gaze is forever torn between North and South. Let me take that burden from you.”

“I… I need to sleep. I cannot think about this right now.” He says.

You concede. If that didn’t get him up right then and there to do it, nothing would. You kiss his temple, blow out the last few candles, and get under the furs to lay beside him. You stare up at the dark ceiling, the only light in the room coming from the moon into the window.

Cregan faces away from you, eyes wide open as he stares at the wall. Your hand covers your mouth, choking back sobs, but he feels your frame shaking.

“Oh, my princess.” He whispers, turning to hold you. You don’t hide it anymore, sobbing into his bare chest. “I’m sorry.”

You sob. “I’m cursed.”

“Sh, no, no.” He whispers, brushing his fingers through your long hair. “I love you. I’m so sorry if I was unkind. I love you so deeply.”

You held him tight against you, refusing to let go until you fell asleep.

You were alone when you awoke, which wasn’t a surprise to you. You had already expected him to wake up earlier to go be on his own, but the truth was he never slept.

You put on a robe, exiting your chambers to find him. Your bare feet pattered against the cold floor on the short walk to the children’s room, which was just a few doors down from your chambers.

And there he was, sitting beside the bed and softly playing with Lyanna’s hair while she slept. He loved his children both so much, but she was his angel, much like you.

“Cregan.” You said, softly, trying not to wake them. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise.

He looked up, and wiped his eyes quickly.

“Sorry, my love.” He said, standing and coming to you at the door. “I was just saying goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” You said, louder than intended.

“Mummy?” Rickon stirred awake.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You and Cregan both whispered, walking towards the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Rickon asked, as you both sat on the edge of their bed. They had their own, yet insisted on sleeping together every night.

“Nothing, my sweet. I’m so sorry, I did not mean to wake you.” You assure him. “We just were checking on you both.” Cregan brushed his fingers through Rickon’s curls.

“Why were you fighting?” He asks. You and Cregan look at each other. What else had they heard being so close to your room? Perhaps, it was time they switched halls.

“We, uh…” You hesitate. “We weren’t, my love.”

“I heard yelling.”

“Tell them the truth.” Cregan mumbles.

“Stop it.” You mumble back.

You both look at Rickon and smile, trying to reassure him nothing was wrong, despite the fact everything was wrong. Lya had woken as well, quietly staring at you and Cregan.

“Well, we were fighting, my children.” You admit. “Adults fight sometimes. You both fight sometimes too, yes? Over your toys?”

He nods.

“What’s important is you love each other, despite your arguments.”

“Were you and father fighting over a toy?” Rickon asks.

“Sure.” You smile at him. “You’re quiet, Lya. Do you have anything you want to say?” She doesn’t react, too small to understand your words.

“Go back to sleep, it’s late. We’re sorry we woke you.” Cregan says, tucking them back in and kissing them both on the head.

You close the door softly on your exit. “Why would you tell them that?”

“They knew we were fighting, I’m sure the whole bloody castle did. It’s better they know.”

“Where are you going?” You cross your arms.

“We have a hunt, remember?” He says. You nod, the conversation returning to you. You had gotten so wrapped up in your argument you forgot he promised you a day out.

“Go dress. I’ll wait for you outside.” He kisses your cheek for a long time, his hands on your arms, not wanting to let you go.

There was clearly still tension between the both of you, but you decided it best to move past it. You loved him to death, whether he gave you more children or not.

Cregan was at war with himself the whole night you slept. You wanted more children so badly that you were willing to give him the North; the entire bloody North.

But, even with that offer, your life meant so much more to him. He had nearly died when you did. He could not do that again. His ancestors would have given everything for an offer like that, and who knew if his lineage would ever get this chance again? He didn’t know if he wanted to take that risk.

Sitting with his children brought him to the wrong answer: more heirs. Especially, Lyanna. She looked just like you, and how could he not want more of that? Then, Rickon, who was not yours but who you loved so deeply he may as well have been. He wanted a son with you, with both of your blood, of course, to sit in either Winterfell or King’s Landing. Which brought him to his next issue: with Lyanna as your first born and heir to your throne, who would she wed? A Targaryen always needed to sit the Iron Throne. But, Lya was a Stark which meant she needed wed to a Targaryen, and he refused to see his daughter marry one of your brothers, or her uncles.

To make matters more complicated, Cregan would be King in the North until Rickon came of age. He was barely four, how was Cregan to rule in the North and you in the South? Then, the worst thought of all: what if you were advised by your future council to wed Lyanna and Rickon? He couldn’t accept.

“Cregan? Are you ready?”

You interrupted his racing thoughts, and you couldn’t have picked better timing.

“You warm enough?” He asks, standing to greet you at the door of the council chambers.

“I think so.” You say, looking down at your thick layers of furs. He rests his hand on your back, walking you outside to the dark cold.

You stood aside as he made sure the saddle and supplies were secure on the house, the only light coming from the moon.

He held your hand as you placed your foot in the stirrups, making sure you got up okay. When you were settled he sat behind you, his warmth sending a chill up your spine. You scooted closer into him, wanting to feel it everywhere. He wrapped his arm around your stomach, securing you while holding the reins.

You rode in silence, but your ass against Cregan’s crotch was sending him into a frenzy. Each little bump in the trail bounced you against him, and you weren’t even trying.

He had made a silent vow to himself: you would not be having sex until he could get himself under control, no matter how long that took. He knew if he was intimate with you, he’d give you just want you wanted. Gods, he nearly broke last night when you sat on his length to take it yourself.

You were dangerous, and your cunt even more so.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, as the wind blew your hair into his face. He wasn’t complaining though, the floral scent of the soap in your hair was keeping him grounded.

“Perhaps, a hot bath when we get back?” You proposed. Gods, he was gonna fucking break.

“Okay.” He answered, dryly, only adding to the tension between you both. But really, he was just trying to keep himself under control. How couldn’t you see it? He didn’t need the North, he just needed you.

You rode further, but a sound nearby made him stop the horse in its tracks, taking his racing thoughts elsewhere.

“Quiet.” He whispered.

“I didn’t say anything.” You whispered back. You watched him take the bow off his back, poising an arrow and aiming, but you couldn’t see where.

The sun had slowly started to rise, turning the sky into a low blue, but your vision was not as perceptive as Cregan’s, who had clearly been doing this for a long time.

You leaned forward, trying to give him more arm space to aim, unintentionally pushing your ass into him even more. He gripped the bow, trying to keep his focus on the large elk in front of him.

He released the arrow, missing by a mile.

“Fuck.” He said, watching the animal run away into the woods.

“Stop squirming around, I can’t focus with you moving on my cock like that.” He said, bluntly.

You couldn’t help but scoff, smiling a little. It really was unintentional.

“Perhaps, you could just get better.” You taunted, still leaning forward. He grabbed the back of your collar, pulling you to sit back up against his chest. But, he said nothing. You had bested him.

The tension of your argument had faded, and now, a new kind formed.

You went a little further down the trail, the sky turning a softer, but still low shade of blue as your search continued.

He was surprised this time when you grabbed the reins to stop the horse.

“What are you-“ He asked, his voice agitated.

“Sh.” Your turned slightly to have your hand cover his mouth, pointing with the other. “There.”

He saw it, another elk, and it was huge. He didn’t know how he had missed it. Seeing one was lucky, but two in a day was rare. He knew he couldn’t miss this shot. You took your hand off his mouth as he grabbed another arrow

“Do. Not. Move.” He whispered, and although you hadn’t the first time, you really held still for this one. You didn’t even dare breathe.

Cregan aimed, and hit it, the animal groaning and falling to the ground. You couldn’t help but shriek in excitement, before he quickly covered your mouth. But, he couldn’t hide his excitement either, smiling ear to ear.

“Sh, sh, sh.” He said, trying not to laugh. He stepped off the horse, helping you down after him. You both approached the animal slowly, Cregan holding his arm out to shield you behind him, just in case.

It was dead; a clean quick, death for the elk. You covered your mouth in excitement, jumping up and down in the snow.

He grabbed the antlers, lifting its head to hold it up for you.

“My Gods, it’s huge!” You said. “It’s almost as big as you!”

“Very funny.” He says, dropping it.

“That’s a compliment.” You say. Thankfully, his already red cheeks hid the blush.

He dragged it over to the horse as you watched, sweat dripping down his forehead, despite the cold.

“Could I get a hand here?” He asks, wiping it with the back of his hand.

“Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.” You tease. He huffs at you.

He gets the elk on the horse, only finally getting help from you at the end. He ties it down, panting in exhaustion. Dawn nearly breaks.

“Shall we call it a day?” He asks.

“I haven’t got anything.” You whine.

“Princess,” he laughs, “We should consider ourselves lucky we even saw two elks this quickly in the day. We won’t find anything else in this cold without being out here for hours.”

You pout, your nose and cheeks red from the bitter cold.

“Look at you,” He says. “I know you’re freezing, I can tell by your nose. Besides, I’ve got blood on me I want to go clean up.”

You pout more as he gets on the horse. He looks down at you standing beside it, and holds his hand out for you.

You both stare at each other for a really long time, his arm getting tired as he finally breaks. “Get on the damn horse.”

You sigh, taking his hand and straddling the horse, purposely pushing your ass on his crotch this time.

“Seven hells, I cannot stand you.” He moans.

“Good thing you’re sitting down.”

Cregan turns the horse, heading back the way you came. His arm is wrapped around your stomach again to hold you in place, and his gloved hand weaves under your layers, rubbing patterns against your skin to warm you up.

You lean back into him, head resting against his shoulder.

“I love you.” You say to him. He wraps his arm tighter around you.

“I know.” He says, kissing your temple.

It’s there he realizes he can’t resist you anymore. His vow to himself had lasted five hours, maybe. Maybe it was your warmth, or the way your ass moved against him each time the trail was rough, or the way your little red nose and cheeks brought out the sharp violet of your Targaryen eyes. Either way, it was all too much.

He pulls his hand from you, removing the glove and putting his bare hand back against your stomach. He trails his fingers up and down your sternum, sending chills up your spine. Your hands place themselves against his legs, anchoring you for support.

“You’re so mean to me, my lord husband.” You breathe, voice coated with lust. “You yell at me all night and then wish to touch me.”

“Let me make it up to you.” He whispers in your ear, his hand moving to massage your breasts, fingers pinching and playing with the skin.

You moan, and he drops the reins to take off his other glove, moving another hand down into your pants.

“Hold the reins.” He whispers against you, fingers rubbing against your slit. “Keep us on the trail.”

You moan, shaky hands grabbing to hold the reins and keep the horse steady.

You’re a whimpering mess, and your body naturally bucks forward, but Cregan holds you tight against him, still playing with your chest.

His fingers are relentless against your cunt, leaving you crying and shaking against him.

“Sit still.” He says, lowly, but his fingers on your breasts and the ones threatening to enter your cunt are too much. He slips two inside, knowing you’ll squirm even more.

“You’re gonna scare the horse.” He warns, yet thrusts his fingers into you without a care in the world. Your hand grips his thigh, still trying to hold the reins with the other, but the horse veers left and right from time to time.

“Are you gonna cum all over my fingers, wife? Have it leak out and stain my saddle?” He teases.

“Fuck you.” You moan, and he smirks. “You’re cruel.”

“Look at that,” He purs, “You’re confusing my horse.”

The horse moves back and forth on the trail, and his hand threatens to leave you and take the reins.

“No, no, please!” You beg, closing in on not only your release but the castle too, which grows closer and closer through the tree line.

“Then, keep the horse straight and keep your voice down.”

“I’m so close.” You whimper.

“I know you are.” He whispers into your hair, “You’re running out of time though, my love.”

You drop the reins, hands moving to the wrist in your pants, pushing his fingers with your own in desperate need to finish before you’re out of the woods.

“Be quiet.” He warns, “I can tell you’re about to scream.”

and he was right. The volume of your breathless whimpers grew more and more. He was so hard against you, his cock begging to break from his pants and fuck you.

You were right there, stuck on the edge of release but held back by the anxiety of finishing fast enough. You just needed that one thing, something to push you over, whether it was something dirty said from Cregan or a motion of his hand, just something.

He knew it, too, so his hand moved from your breast and wrapped around your throat, softly at first, then tighter to quiet the moans that were eliciting from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck.” You cried, attempting to lean forward and out of his reach again as you came, but his grip on your throat held you against him, and he let your screams go, saving them in his head to think about later.

Your grip on his wrist tightened, nails scratching at his skin as he groaned in pain, but he let you do it. He pulled out his fingers, wiping them on his pants and letting go of your throat, finally letting you lean forward to catch your breath. Your ass still arched against him, and his hands rested on your waist.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You nod against the horse, still shaking and whimpering.

“That’s my good girl.” He says, patting your back. “Let’s get back home.”

The horse pushes on, straight now that Cregan had the reins, and you eventually sit back up to lean against his chest. You exhale softly, falling asleep against him before reaching the castle. He let you rest, riding extra slow so you had more time, adjusting your buttons and straightening your furs before arriving back at the castle.

He shook you gently, seeing the kids waiting for you both in the yard. You opened your eyes, smiling upon seeing them wait.

“What’d you get? What’d you get?” Rickon asks, jumping up and down as you enter.

“Nice elk. He was big and strong.” Cregan says, flexing his arms to make them laugh. Lya points at him.

“Like you, father.” Rickon speaks for her.

“My sweet babes.” He says, picking them up to show them the elk on the horse.

You step down, Cregan shifting the kids in his arms to give you a hand.

“Don’t touch, Lya.” You say, catching her hand going to poke the dead elk.

“Can you take me, father?” He asks.

“Soon.” Cregan tells him, “It’s about time for your naps right now. Let’s go inside.”

You walk inside, Cregan carrying both of the children to their room as you hold the door open for him. He lays them down, while you light the hearth in their room to keep them warm.

You sit at the end of the bed, while Cregan sits at the headboard, one child under each arm lying on his chest. For some reason, he avoids your eyes. The tension of being home and needing to face reality at some point lingered in the air still.

Cregan was faced with his decision again, and being in the woods had given him a brief moment of peace for it to be forgotten. He didn’t have an answer, but felt like he owed you one. But, you knew his answer, or at least thought you did. You would only ever have one true born child, and she would be your only heir to the Iron Throne.

This didn’t stop the fact Cregan knew she would be betrothed to a Targaryen, which he would not accept for his only daughter.

“What troubles you?” You finally ask quietly, once the kids are sleeping. “We had a good morning. Forget about last night.”

He hesitates, “I’m not a gambling man but if I had to bet, you’ll wed her to a Targaryen, won’t you?”

“I… I haven’t even thought about that, Cregan. Gods. She’s two years old.”

“Don’t lie.” He says, “A Targaryen must always sit the Iron Throne, and while you’ll always be a Targaryen in the South, Lyanna is a Stark everywhere.”

“Well, now that you bring it up, yes. I will wed her to a Targaryen.”

“How could you?!” He says, quietly but aggressively, slightly leaning forward to show his anger, but still trying not to wake them. “It’s her choice!”

“I didn’t get to choose!” You spit back.

“You had a fucking easy choice, you didn’t need to! We had history.” He says. Lyanna shuffles in her sleep, crawling closer onto Cregan’s chest.

“I’d barely call it history.” You scoff and roll your eyes, standing to leave the room, him still trapped under the children.

“Come back here, now!” He whispers, quietly snapping his gloved fingers at you. You look at him from the door.

“Oh, you want me to come over there?” You mess with him. “Where, right here? Outside the door? Be specific.”

“Oh, my pretty wife, you are such a-“ You close the door, turning and walking to your room.

Cregan, as swiftly and calmly as possible, moves the kids off his chest, shushing them to stay asleep while putting the blankets over them.

He follows you to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and walking to you on the bed.

“You will not name her heir.” Cregan says.

“Try me!” You yell.

“Name one of your twin brothers, or Joffrey even as your heir, but not her!”

“Listen to yourself!” You cry out. “She’s my first born daughter, I am my mother’s first daughter, my mother is my grandfather’s first born daughter. If I do not name her my heir, everything we do will be for nothing!”

“Not my daughter.” Cregan repeats.

“Our daughter! I carried her for nine torturous months-“

“You would not have her if it weren’t for me!”

“I’d have more if it weren’t for you!”

“I can’t keep having this fucking argument!” He says, flipping a night table over.

“Oh, please spare me the dramatics.” You sigh, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“You are trying my patience, wife.” He says it with venom. “You’re hardly the woman I fell in love with anymore.”

“Funny!” You yell. “I was just going to say the same about you!”

He says nothing, instead turning and leaving.

You sigh into your hands. You hadn’t even sat on the Iron Throne, yet the prospect of it was tearing your marriage apart.

He was gone for maybe 5 minutes when the door opens again, and you’re surprised to look up and see it’s him.

“What? Come to flip another table, maybe punch the wall this time?” You ask, but he says nothing. You’re trying to read his features, sensing shock coming from him.

“What is it?” You ask, your tone much softer. He’s struggling to find the words. “Cregan, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

“Y-Your brother.” He says. “We just received word from a raven he was killed in the Gullet.”

You knew it was coming, you foresaw it years ago, and yet the words sent you falling apart.

He’s frozen in place. The news of your brother was a shock to him, of course. But, you really had seen it, that shocked him more.

He breaks out of his trance, pulling you into him to let you cry, but he can’t find the words to comfort you. You’d said it yourself, you grieved him while he was still living.

Then, your mother. Gods, it really would happen. You really would take the Iron Throne. He hadn’t fully processed it until now.

He was panicking inside. You were already a target, only no one dared threaten you here in the safety of the North when winter was at its climax. Now, when your mother inevitably announced to the kingdom that she named you as her next heir in line, Aegon would send his army hunting for your head.

And not just yours, but any heirs you had, including his Lyanna.

He had so many questions, and it felt like there was so little time to ask them.

You awoke to an empty bed again. The sun was barely rising, and your room was dimly lit with the blue hues of the early morning sky. There was a hot tea left on your nightstand, and you took a drink before going to find Cregan again.

He was not in the children’s room, or his council chambers, or the dining hall. It was only when you stepped outside for some fresh air, did you find him on accident.

He stood in the training yard swinging his sword against a training dummy. He was so skilled in combat, you at times forgot you and your husband were both still young, only in your 20s.

“Cregan.” You say from atop the balcony. “When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

He looks at you, his eyes clearly tired. “I wish I knew, my princess.”

He looks back down at his sword, finger tracing the blade. “Another raven arrived in the night… You’ve been named heir to the iron throne… and your mother has left King’s Landing until it is safe to return.”

You say nothing, taking time to process the information. You had a target on your back now, and you knew if Winter ended early the Greens still might try to march here, despite your dragon and the foreign soil.

“I will give you what it is you want, princess.” Cregan says. “But, I must stay here.”

“Cregan-“

“You do not need to restore the North as an independent kingdom. I think it best if when this war ends, you rule here and the South. I’ll ensure you sit that throne, and I’ll bend the knee and pledge my oath to you once again.”

You walk down the stairs to the yard, straight to him without stopping. He drops his sword, wrapping his arms around you as you press your lips to his.

“I won’t do any of it without you by my side.” You say, holding his cheeks. His gloved hands holds yours against his face, closing his eyes to embrace your touch.

“My place is here.” He says.

“But, my place is with you.”

“My love… Duty is sacrifice.” He says. “You know that you must serve the realm when the time comes.”

Tears fall from your eyes, and he wipes them away.

“You and I will march when this winter ends. I’ll ensure you’re safe-“

“No.”

“I’ll bring- look at me- I’ll bring you a sworn protector. I will give you a babe over and over, as many times as you want-“

“You don’t mean this.” You say, stepping out of his hold.

“I…” He pauses. He didn’t mean this, he had said it himself he would’ve followed you anywhere, but he was at a loss of what to do. “I don’t know what to do any longer. How are we meant to rule two places at once, or to have Rickon rule here at four years old? And what of Lya? No where is safe for you or her.”

“We’re safe wherever you are, Cregan.” You press your forehead to his chest, before looking up at him. “Our children will come with us wherever we go. We rule in King’s Landing, you name a hand for Winterfell to rule until Rickon is of age, and Lya… I will name one of my brother’s as my heir instead of her, and I will let the courtships come to her.”

Cregan paused. He did not want Lya on the throne, and he did not want Lya wedding a Targaryen, and you knew it. He’d seen how King’s Landing treated your mother, the rightful heir, he’d seen how they treated your brothers, calling them bastards of Harwin Strong, and he had seen how they treated you… the shameful ways they spoke about your beauty… He did not want Lyanna to go through that, which she would if she ruled in King’s Landing.

Talking of prospects of the throne felt so strange, like you were plotting against your mother. But, you could not change fate no matter how hard you tried. All you knew is you would sit the throne, that meant the only thing you could do was prepare for it. You had written her letters of your visions, maybe that was why she left King’s Landing. Wherever she was going, you hoped she was safe.

“Stay with me.” You plead, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m losing you.”

The truth was you would never lose him, despite all this arguing and fucking, and fucking and arguing, he was always yours. He thought he knew love before you, with Alysanne, but he only knew the idea of it. But, your love with him was enough to make him fall on his sword for you, if you had asked.

“Not even close.” He says, pressing a deep kiss into your lips. “Oh, my sweet girl, I am so tired of fighting with you.”

“As am I.” You breathe into the kiss. “But, I fear we have a dangerous road ahead of us.”

to be continued…

[realmsofdreams]

fire in my blood, steel in my spine.

pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

summary: in the harsh, frostbitten lands of the north, you, the fierce valyrian-blooded wife of cregan stark, find your world unraveling with the return of arra norrey. pregnant with your first child, your strength is tested as arra’s presence stirs doubt and jealousy, threatening your place as lady of winterfell.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, jealousy, pregnancy, emotional turmoil, mild suggestive themes.

author notes: hi! in this one-shot, i picture the reader as having valyrian blood running through their veins, but without the signature silver hair or purple/blue eyes like the targaryens. however, they do speak high valyrian and ride dragons just like them. of course, this is an imagine, so feel free to picture the reader with any appearance you like. as always, enjoy and happy reading!

“do you think the babe will have your eyes?”

cregan’s voice rumbled low, a rare softness threading through it as he rested a hand on the swell of your belly. the fire crackled in the hearth, his calloused fingers traced absent circles over your gown, and for a moment, the world felt warm, safe.

you tilted your head to meet his gaze, your dark hair spilling over your shoulder like ink against the pale furs.

“i hope they have yours,”

you murmured, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“grey like the north, steady and strong.”

he chuckled, a sound that vibrated through you, grounding you.

“strong, aye. but they’ll have your fire, i reckon. that valyrian blood of yours, it burns brighter than any hearth.”

you wanted to hold onto that moment, to bottle it and keep it close. your hand found his, pressing it tighter against your stomach, where the babe stirred faintly.

“a wolf with dragon’s blood,”

you said, your voice teasing but laced with pride.

“the north won’t know what to make of them.”

“nor will i,”

he admitted, his grey eyes softening as they held yours.

“but i’ll love them all the same. as i love you.”

the words wrapped around you like a cloak, and you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. his heartbeat was steady, a drumbeat against the howling wind outside.

but the peace shattered when the doors creaked open, a servant stepping in with a hesitant bow.

“my lord, my lady… arra norrey has arrived. she’s in the great hall.”

the name hit you like a gust of winter wind, sharp and unyielding. cregan’s hand stilled on your stomach, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. you watched him, searching his face for a crack in the mask he wore so well.

“arra?”

you asked, keeping your tone even despite the sudden knot in your chest.

“i thought she’d settled in the mountains.”

“so did i,” he said, rising to his feet.

his voice was clipped, not cold, but distant like he was already halfway out the door.

“i’ll see what she wants. rest, love. i won’t be long.”

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, firm and fleeting, before he left. and as the door shut behind him, you felt it, the first splinter in the foundation you’d built together.

arra norrey was no stranger to winterfell.

she was a ghost from cregan’s past, a woman of the north with wild auburn hair and a sharper tongue. she’d been his companion in youth, a friend, a whisper of something more before you’d swept into his life like a storm from the south. the youngest daughter of a valyrian line, your black hair and fierce spirit had captivated him, binding him to you in a way that felt unbreakable. or so you’d thought.

you didn’t mind her shadow at first. you were secure in your place, in the way cregan looked at you, in the child growing inside you. but when she swept into the great hall that day, her presence was a tempest you hadn’t braced for. she was all sharp edges and familiarity, her voice cutting through the air as she greeted cregan with a smile that lingered too long.

“it’s been years, cregan,”

she said, her tone warm, almost possessive.

“the north hasn’t changed, but you… you’ve grown into it.”

you stood at the edge of the hall, unnoticed at first, watching as he returned her smile, not the one he gave you, but something softer, older.

“you’ve not changed either, arra,”

he replied, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes you couldn’t name.

nostalgia?

affection? it clawed at you, that uncertainty.

she barely glanced your way, her focus locked on him. and as the days bled into weeks, it only grew worse. she found reasons to be near him, of bringing tales of the mountains, offering to scout with him, brushing his arm as she laughed at some shared memory from a time before you. you told yourself it was nothing. you were his wife, carrying his heir. but every touch, every glance she stole, chipped away at the steel you’d forged around your heart.

one afternoon, you watched from a window as they stood in the courtyard, her hand resting on his arm as she spoke animatedly. he didn’t pull away. he laughed, a sound that once belonged to you alone and the sight twisted something deep inside you. your hand pressed against your belly, where the babe kicked harder, as if sensing your turmoil.

“i don’t know what to do, sara,”

you confessed one evening, your voice trembling as you sat with sara snow in the quiet of the godswood, the air was bitter. sara, with her dark eyes and gentle demeanor, had become an unexpected anchor in the storm. she carried no judgment, only understanding.

she tilted her head, studying you.

“you’re his lady, his wife. she’s a memory, nothing more. why let her haunt you?”

you pressed a hand to your belly, feeling the faint kick of the life within.

“because he doesn’t see it, the way she looks at him, the way she tries to pull him back to what they had. and i… i feel like i’m fading. like i’m not enough.”

sara’s hand found yours, her grip firm.

“you’re more than enough. you’re valyrian steel in flesh, stronger than she’ll ever be. but you’ve got to tell him, not me. he’s a man, thick as they come sometimes. he won’t know unless you make him see.”

“i’ve tried,”

you whispered, your voice breaking.

“but every time i look at him, i see her shadow behind him. i see the way he softens when she speaks, and i wonder… did he settle for me? did he choose me because i was here, because i was convenient?”

sara frowned, shaking her head.

“you think cregan stark, lord of winterfell, would marry a woman out of convenience? he chose you because you’re a force, a flame in this frozen hell. arra’s a spark that’s long gone out. don’t let her make you doubt that.”

you wanted to believe her, but the doubt had taken root, spreading like frost over glass. that night, when cregan slipped into your chambers, his hands cold from the yard, you couldn’t meet his eyes. he sensed it, kneeling before you as you sat by the fire, your hands folded over your swollen belly.

“what’s wrong, love?”

his voice was gentle, but it broke something in you.

“arra,”

you said, the name tasting like ash.

“she’s everywhere, cregan. every time i turn, she’s there, pulling you away. and you let her.”

his brows furrowed, confusion etching his face.

“she’s an old friend. she means nothing—”

“don’t,”

you snapped, your voice rising despite the tears burning your eyes.

“don’t tell me it’s nothing when i see the way she looks at you, the way you smile at her. i’m your wife, cregan, carrying your child, and i feel like i’m losing you.”

the silence that followed was suffocating. he reached for you, but you pulled away, the ache in your chest too raw.

“i thought i was your fire,”

you whispered, your voice cracking.

“but maybe i’m just the shadow she’s casting.”

he stood then, his expression hardening not with anger, but with something deeper, something pained.

“you think i’d choose her over you? over our family?”

his voice was low, strained, each word deliberate.

“i’ve been a fool not to see it, how it’s hurt you. but you’re wrong, my love. you’re everything.”

you wanted to believe him, but the wound was too fresh, too deep.

“then why does it feel like i’m fighting for you?”

the words slipped out, fragile and broken.

“why does it feel like i’m begging for a place that should already be mine?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he turned and left the room, the door closing with a soft thud that echoed in your bones. you sank into the chair, tears streaming down your face as the fire dwindled to embers. the babe kicked again, harder this time, and you pressed your hands to your stomach, whispering apologies to the life you carried, for the fear, for the doubt, for the cracks in the love you’d thought unbreakable.

the next morning, arra was gone.

you heard it from the servants first, she’d been sent back to the mountains, her horse saddled before dawn. the news came like a cold wind and unexpected, and you stood in the courtyard, watching the empty space where she’d last been. the snow crunched under your boots, your breath clouding in the frigid air.

when cregan found you, he looked weary, his eyes shadowed with something you hadn’t seen before, regret, perhaps, or resolve. he stopped a few paces away, his cloak dusted with snow.

“she’s gone,” he said simply, his voice rough.

“i told her to leave. for you.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding.

“why?”

“because i saw it, how she looked at me, how it tore at you. i’d never dishonor you, never let anyone come between us. arra… she was a piece of my past, a friend i thought i could keep at arm’s length. but i was wrong.”

he stepped closer, his hands reaching for yours, and this time you didn’t pull away.

“i should’ve sent her off the moment she arrived. i was blind, and i’m sorry.”

tears spilled down your cheeks, hot against the cold.

“i thought… i thought you regretted me,”

you admitted, your voice trembling.

“that i wasn’t enough. that she was the one you wanted, deep down.”

he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, his touch warm despite the chill.

“regret you? gods, no. you’re the fire in my blood, the steel in my spine. i’d burn the north to ashes before i let you doubt that. arra was a memory, a ghost i didn’t bury well enough. but you… you’re my life, my heart, the mother of my child.”

you broke then, a sob escaping as you fell into his arms. he held you tight, his warmth seeping into you, thawing the ice that had settled in your chest.

“i love you,”

he murmured against your hair, fierce and unwavering.

“only you. always you.”

you clung to him, the weight of your fears lifting, replaced by the steady beat of his heart against yours. the babe kicked between you, a reminder of the life you’d built, the love that held despite the cracks. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face as snowflakes caught in your dark hair.

“i’d fight the world for you,”

he said, his voice low but steady.

“every inch of it. you’re my lady, my wife, my flame. no one else.”

you reached up, your fingers curling into his cloak, pulling him down until his lips met yours. the kiss was desperate at first, all the pent-up fear and longing spilling out, but it softened into something tender, something sure. the cold faded, the shadows retreated, and all that remained was the heat of him, the strength of you, and the promise of what lay ahead.

as the snow fell silent around you, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the frozen air.

“i believe you,”

you whispered, and it felt like a release, a weight you hadn’t known you carried.

“i love you too.”

he smiled then, the one he saved for you alone, soft, unguarded, and full of the north’s quiet strength.

“good,”

he said, his hand slipping to your belly.

“because this little one needs us both.”

and in that moment, with the wind howling and the world vast and wild around you, you knew no shadow could dim the fire you shared.

[the end]